I noticed this the other day, and I'm wondering if I'm the only one...
When creeping pictures on Facebook, and you're looking at lake pictures, is it just me, or does every lake/yard/cabin/beach area look the same? When I don't know what lake said pictures are from, I automatically scan the background and try to pick out landmarks that would identify the lake as one of the five or so that I'm familiar with in the area. Oh snaps! I recognize that American flag! That's totally right down the shore from Steg's place at Maple Lake! Man, that blue cabin with the triangle-shaped window looks so familiar....oh yeah, it's right across from Ike's place at Union Lake, where we tipped over the jet ski and I almost got my head ran over!
And it always turns out that I'm completely wrong (Minnesota does have 10,000 lakes, you know. It's their motto and everything.) Am I alone on this one? Should I stop talking for awhile, sit the next couple plays out?
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I've mentioned before how there are certain singers whose voices make me fall in love with them. Singers like Jenny Lewis, Alicia Keys, Prince...you get the idea. Usually it's an immediate swooning; I'm swept off my feet upon first listen. This time, though, it took me years before I finally had the realization: I am in love with late 70's era-Aretha Franklin. Just a big, sassy black woman, hittin' notes and doin' work. If I was a child in an affluent family, living in a southern town in 1977, I would want Aretha to be my family's live-in babysitter. Then, as I grew into puberty and later high school, I would come home late one early September evening, having gone to a high school football game, then snuck out to the old Swanson farm, swiped a few beers from his storage shed, and drank them with my buddies, laying on the hood of our cars and talking about girls. I would come home and Aretha would be out on the porch, not being able to sleep, and although she calls it "just having one of her thinkin' nights" really, I know it's because she's missing her husband, who passed away nine years ago. Then we would start talking, and she would slowly but steadily seduce me, right there on the porch, and I would learn all about the sweet lovings a woman can offer, from Aretha the 1970's Housekeeper, on the outskirts of the sleepy town of Decatur, Alabama.
So long story short, I really enjoy Aretha Franklin's voice.
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I'm going to Minneapolis tonight to visit some buddies; the reason this week was picked was because the elusive ADawg, who moved to Oregon after his wedding almost three years ago and never comes back for holidays or weddings or anything, will be in town. While it will undoubtedly be a good time, and I'll get to cross an event off the sports bucket list when we trek over to Lambeau Field for a preseason game on Friday, there's a kicker: the Red Sox, who only come to Kansas City to play the Royals once a year, come this weekend. Between the Metrodome, trips to Boston, and KC the last few years, the last year I haven't attended a Boston game live is 2002. This has happened to me an obscene amount of times since I moved to Kansas. Hey, the Avett Brothers are coming to Kansas City! Oh, crap, I'm out of town for a wedding that weekend. What's that? You've got free tickets to the KU/K-State game on Saturday? 8th row? Dammit, I have friends in town this weekend, they're not big basketball fans. Guess I'll have to pass. Holy shit! They're handing out free chili cheese wraps at the Sonic on 31st at 9 pm? Too bad I'm leaving to go home for Christmas earlier that day.
I don't have much of a point, just that I'm tired of missing things in the Kansas area cause I'm doing other stuff. I blame ADawg.
(Also, those last two examples are entirely fictional. We all know I would NEVER pass up free 8th row tickets to a KU basketball game, and would probably punch my mom in the face while she's sleeping if it meant free chili cheese wraps.)
