Friday afternoon I met up with Margarita, the Polis, Cara’s Dad and Nathan at the Tourists’ baseball game. I didn’t get there until the 7th inning; just in time to walk in for free, catch up on the happenings, drink a pint and then leave without the normal boredom that comes with watching baseball. It was a gorgeous spring evening, the kind where the outcome of the game/match doesn’t matter as much as the enjoyment of the experience. After the game the group split, with most everyone going to Wedge Brewery for a pint and Nathan and I going to pick up his dog, drop him and the truck at Nathan’s house then walk to Jack of the Wood for the Habibigy show. Laura and Drew met up with us there and, as expected, it was a great night. The music was lively and unexpected, the conversation was meandering and the company was top-notch. It was another night in this town where I have to pinch myself that I live here, that this is my life. I get to be with my sort of people.
Sunday afternoon M-rita and I met up at memorial stadium to watch Doug, Dan, Clay, Aaron, Dave, etc play their guts out in search of glory and victory for Jack of the Wood’s soccer team. By halftime it was raining feverishly and Margarita and I took shelter in beach chairs under the bleachers. We stayed mostly dry and the boys won.
After the match the whole lot headed around the block to Dirty Jacks, the top-secret speakeasy brewpub for JotW for a Tres de Mayo potluck (or “Cinco de Tres” according to Clay). We played horseshoes, laughed, got herded inside by the grumbles of thunder and then trapped by the violent storms that followed. When I finally left, downtown was empty and without power—no cars, no streetlights, no stoplights—and the drive home was spooky, as if I was the only one left. It took me four tries to get back to my house; every street had a tree down or power trucks blocking the way.
There is no neat conclusion to this summary, only that this weekend I felt like I was equal parts observing life and living it.
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