Sunday, July 12, 2009

An Adventure

Tom was right; it was certainly an adventure. We showed up at the Pit Stop around 9:30 p.m. and parked out back. The empty lot next to the bar was roped off and full of all kinds of folks. Exactly what I should have expected but we had to check it out anyway. We went in for drinks (I needed an overpriced soda) and I don’t think it would be far off the mark to say I suffered some degree of hearing loss. I’ve been to concerts and I frequented bars in my much younger years but I’ve never experienced music that loud.

Tom and I went outside to wait for Nickie Muller and we had a pretty enjoyable time people watching. He showed me a Tattoo Location Decoder ( and we had fun drawing our own conclusions about what we were seeing (even with my own poorly thought out tattoo, I thought it was hilarious). Try as we might though, we couldn’t place anyone we saw. I imagine there were probably people there who walked the halls of YHS when we did but there weren’t any familiar faces. And then there was: Nickie!

Nickie is one of those friends I lost touch with after high school. Not the kind you sort of want to lose touch with either. She had a way of including everyone in her circle of friends and I give her credit for my inclusion in the amazing group of friends I had in high school. We had a class together early on and from there on out I was part of her crowd. She’s got a big heart, a sweet smile, and I’m awfully happy I’ve found her again. There’s something so comforting to me about being with those friends I’ve loved for more than half of my life and I’ve been blessed with more and more of that lately. I wished especially last night that Michael could have been there. I miss him and have really enjoyed the few times we’ve been able to spend together with my old friends. I want my friends to be his friends too.

On Friday night Michael and I picked a paper box full of apricots from a tree two doors down. I saw it heavy with fruit and knew it was pretty unlikely the folks who live there were going to use any of it. I knocked on the door and a teenager answered (I’ve only ever seen teenagers coming and going; I'm not sure if any adults even live there). I asked if it would be okay to pick some apricots and he looked at me like I was crazy. “Uh, sure.” We called Becky and we all picked what was ripe.

This morning Sierra and I helped Grandma and Grandpa can the apricots down at the barn. I grew up around this sort of thing but still would have no idea where I'd start if I was on my own. They tell me it’s simple, no big deal. I guess I just need to pick up a book and some motivation. I know it involves jars, lids, putting things in jars, putting lids on jars, and boiling water. Now if there was just something that ever occupied those jars that I wanted badly enough to actually learn about it, we’d be in business.
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