Home again, home again, jiggity jig

I rolled in at 12:10 a.m. Tuesday morning. Never let it be said that I did not maximize my vacation time.

Hiawatha was a lot of fun, except for Monday morning when I had to pack everything up and drive home. They need to fix that; it’s easily the worst part of any music festival, even worse than drunken idiots yelling at 4 a.m.

My car has new tires now. Apparently, the answer to the question “How much life do they have left,” when asked around July 1, was “1,200 miles,” i.e., one trip to Louisville and 2/3rds of a trip to music festivals up north. Only one had gone flat (on the way back to the festival from Wal-Mart—don’t ask), but since they all had 58,000 miles on them by then I’m sure failure was just a handfull of miles away for all of them.

So Monday’s agenda was: 1. Pack campsite; 2. Go buy tires and try not to cry in front of the guy who gives the price quote; 3. Drive 450 miles in the rain. No wonder I am not terribly happy now. Plus, I have to go to work.

Although, really, I’m not terribly unhappy. That’s probably due to all the fiddle tunes bouncing around my head still. The music library part of my brain still thinks I’m up north, I guess. I played a lot of back-up guitar to the fiddlers, but for quite a while I played mandolin, with which I played some of the actual tunes instead of just kaCHUNKa kaCHUNKA rhythm. I’m not completely competent on the mandolin yet but I could see competent from where I was, for a while. That was fun.

The only things I lost were a bottle of shampoo (I hope it can be useful to one or more Ramblers, since that’s where it probably is) and a folding pocketknife (lost at Blissfest, dammit; it was a nice one). I came back with lots of bug bites, and photos, and fiddle tunes in my head (and I don’t even PLAY fiddle!).

More about Bliss and Hiawatha later. Maybe even with photos!

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About songdogmi

I'm a longhaired almost-hippie stuck in the inner suburbs of a major rust-belt metropolis who's thoughtful, creative, and kind of geeky. In exchange for a paycheck I run around in a cubicle maze most days. When I escape, I play music, hang out in coffee houses, dink around on the computer, take naps, and think I should be off in the woods somewhere. Every once in a while I get in my car and drive far, far away, though I've always come back so far.
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2 Responses to Home again, home again, jiggity jig

  1. Anonymous says:

    Not lost, but left behind:

    (1) Pair of shoes. Will be snail-mailed soon.

    (2) Southwind Waltz. Another one of those fiddle tunes…

    Great fun. Let’s do it again next year!

    • songdogmi says:

      Those shoes! OH NO… I’m sorry I inflicted those on you and your house. They, um, smell bad when they get wet. (Your cat might really like them, though.) I brought them just in case my feet needed a break, but decided it was better wear hiking boots all week. If you send them back, I’ll be grateful (and will send you back an air freshener or something to try to compensate for the shoes).

      Southwind Waltz… I don’t remember it, actually. I bet it’s pretty, though.

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