Monday was a day off work and I rode almost 40 miles after having ridden over 30 miles the day before. I was wrecked after all that. I was eating everything in sight and napped a couple of times later that day. But it felt so good to be out on the bike. The new work schedule hasn't allowed for much riding during the week, a luxury I've enjoyed since the start of the pandemic.
Tuesday it was back to the office, and I've worked 40 hours in the last four days, and I'm back in there tomorrow morning for a few hours. But it's all really good. I'm really enjoying the work and my new coworkers. It is a great fit.
That hasn't left much time for much else, though, including writing. But tonight I got inspired and played my acoustic guitar and sang for a while. It's been a long time since I played that much and I'm surprised my fingers lasted. (The calluses I had for two decades* faded away years ago.) I can feel them now as I type. It feels good, like tired legs after a long ride. And I could still play the songs in my songbook, and still sing them decently, too.
I want the pandemic to be over so I can have some friends over for a night of music. An old-school hootenanny. Maybe in the back around a fire. They'll drink beer and wine, and I'll drink tea. At the end of the night, we'll all jump in the pool, which will still be really cold, and we'll have to huddle around the fire to dry off and warm up, but we'll still be shivering, laughing at our impulsive foolishness.
I'm listening to guilty pleasures tonight for reasons I can't explain. Third Eye Blind's latest record, from last year, which I haven't listened to yet. Skillet, who I didn't know had been making music this entire time since I listened to their debut record in college in 1996. I was a junior. The only original member is exactly my age and looks silly with black eyeliner, and their music is as earnest as ever, and kind of bad. Even worse than Third Eye Blind. But it's hard to go wrong with a driving beat and loud guitars.
* from 1995-2015, we'll say
Tuesday it was back to the office, and I've worked 40 hours in the last four days, and I'm back in there tomorrow morning for a few hours. But it's all really good. I'm really enjoying the work and my new coworkers. It is a great fit.
That hasn't left much time for much else, though, including writing. But tonight I got inspired and played my acoustic guitar and sang for a while. It's been a long time since I played that much and I'm surprised my fingers lasted. (The calluses I had for two decades* faded away years ago.) I can feel them now as I type. It feels good, like tired legs after a long ride. And I could still play the songs in my songbook, and still sing them decently, too.
I want the pandemic to be over so I can have some friends over for a night of music. An old-school hootenanny. Maybe in the back around a fire. They'll drink beer and wine, and I'll drink tea. At the end of the night, we'll all jump in the pool, which will still be really cold, and we'll have to huddle around the fire to dry off and warm up, but we'll still be shivering, laughing at our impulsive foolishness.
I'm listening to guilty pleasures tonight for reasons I can't explain. Third Eye Blind's latest record, from last year, which I haven't listened to yet. Skillet, who I didn't know had been making music this entire time since I listened to their debut record in college in 1996. I was a junior. The only original member is exactly my age and looks silly with black eyeliner, and their music is as earnest as ever, and kind of bad. Even worse than Third Eye Blind. But it's hard to go wrong with a driving beat and loud guitars.
* from 1995-2015, we'll say