Making Lemonade

Good thing our phone was on the fritz a couple of weeks ago. That meant we didn't have Internet access on a Tuesday night when all my work depended on getting online. Needed to pay bills. Little stuff like that.

We packed a book to read (him), a computer (her), and went to Scotties, the nearest Free Internet With Your Cup of Coffee joint that we could think of.

I was (more than) just a little tired and crabby about not being able to work at home in my jammies and then fall right into bed. As we walked into Scotties, my ears went, "Is that LIVE music?" and the crabby started to leak right out of me. Four old guys were playing 1940's-60's tunes on electric guitars that were amped but not cranked. They sounded like my childhood guitar teacher, Rudy Schlichenmayer. They sat slouched over their guitars in a wide half-circle so they could watch each other and riff off each other. When they sang, their voices sounded like the records my parents used to play. My crabbiness left me. I started noticing that they weren't really all that old, now that I'm on the near side of old myself. They were probably in their 60's. They obviously liked each other and enjoyed getting together to have a public jam session.

I got my work done. We checked the schedule. They play every Tuesday night. I'll be there whenever I can.