Those of you that know me best know it is a rare day when I have nothing to say.
So, regarding the occasional lapses in updates, our daily experiences are in no way become mundane to the point I have nothing to comment on. It is simply that my daily writing time has been pretty consumed with work (as well it should…) and I can only stare at the computer screen for so long before my eyes want to roll up in my head.
If you have created a routine of logging in and sipping your well-filtered American coffee while joining us for our moments both humorous and sublime, I apologize. We are alive. We are well. And we are slowly getting addicted to stand-up espresso bars and those little paper packets of coarsely granulated pure cane sugar. And by “we” I mean I.
Those of you that know me best also know that I am easily distracted. The clinicians would call it some sort of attention affliction. I prefer to look at it as a frequent and unbridled passion for my surroundings. Which is ironic since it is often in those busier environments where I tend to focus best. Call it white noise, or, as can be the case here, jaunting accordion music. Because here that environment of focus-friendly bustle, when I need to get out of the house and have a change of environment is often a bar. Now, before you start jumping to conclusions, let me explain something. Here the local bar is a mash-up of coffee shop, living room, bakery, post office, office water cooler, and…well…bar. Which has its advantages at nearly any time of day. Most have WiFi. Most will let you hang out and type away on your laptop while sipping pretty much anything. And most even bring you a little bowl of fresh seasoned olives if you sit long enough.
The thing most interesting to me is the interaction that happens, to which, thanks to my minimal command of the language, I am merely a sideline observer. Groups of old men gather around the bar, or over a dominoes game or bocce court, to squabble in heated and animated fashion, all the time and usually over the top of one another’s opinions. At times I brace myself for the fisticuffs. And they usually seem to merely be talking about the weather. Then they will sporadically break out into song.
So, regarding the occasional lapses in updates, our daily experiences are in no way become mundane to the point I have nothing to comment on. It is simply that my daily writing time has been pretty consumed with work (as well it should…) and I can only stare at the computer screen for so long before my eyes want to roll up in my head.
If you have created a routine of logging in and sipping your well-filtered American coffee while joining us for our moments both humorous and sublime, I apologize. We are alive. We are well. And we are slowly getting addicted to stand-up espresso bars and those little paper packets of coarsely granulated pure cane sugar. And by “we” I mean I.
Those of you that know me best also know that I am easily distracted. The clinicians would call it some sort of attention affliction. I prefer to look at it as a frequent and unbridled passion for my surroundings. Which is ironic since it is often in those busier environments where I tend to focus best. Call it white noise, or, as can be the case here, jaunting accordion music. Because here that environment of focus-friendly bustle, when I need to get out of the house and have a change of environment is often a bar. Now, before you start jumping to conclusions, let me explain something. Here the local bar is a mash-up of coffee shop, living room, bakery, post office, office water cooler, and…well…bar. Which has its advantages at nearly any time of day. Most have WiFi. Most will let you hang out and type away on your laptop while sipping pretty much anything. And most even bring you a little bowl of fresh seasoned olives if you sit long enough.
The thing most interesting to me is the interaction that happens, to which, thanks to my minimal command of the language, I am merely a sideline observer. Groups of old men gather around the bar, or over a dominoes game or bocce court, to squabble in heated and animated fashion, all the time and usually over the top of one another’s opinions. At times I brace myself for the fisticuffs. And they usually seem to merely be talking about the weather. Then they will sporadically break out into song.
Today a young man that couldn’t have been much out of high school walked into the small corner bar, took a seat, opened his backpack and extracted a full sized accordion, which he began to play. Much like you would find jovial high school students in Boulder doing in public places. Or not. Soon, singing at the top of his lungs, a collection of other patrons sidled up alongside him and joined in his spirited crooning. I asked the waitress if he was paid. Or performed here often. She considered me for a second. “No. He is just happy,” was her reply to my seemingly odd question.
For nearly an hour they sang, about what I do not know, but they sang. With conviction and gusto. There were no trays of shots going around. No cheering group of women to perform for. Just a group of everyday guys, arm in arm, celebrating the moment. At 2 in the afternoon. When they were done, someone must have clearly said something about the weather as they immediately returned to their heated argument and gradually dispersed into the streets to go about their day.
Anyway, it’s not something I see often at Vics. But it is a rather fun and unusual backdrop to my time at the office.
Finally, of all my blog posts to date, the one that received the most interested (and often skeptical) queries was the idea of a pole-dancing, tractor pull karaoke moment. Fortunately Kellie is a veritable quick draw of the cell phone camera and happened to capture the moment as we exited the parade. So I offer it here as proof. Ah, Italia.