Coloring the fall

I'm still woefully short on free time. Time to breathe. And me time? Forget it.

 

Didn't I say I was going to get better at this whole blogging thing? Ergh. It all goes back to free time, doesn't it? Yes. And though I have begun to reclaim some time—enough, say, to do dishes or laundry or yardwork, or to steal a few minutes in the backyard, letting the ferrets bounce—I'm still woefully short on free time. Time to breathe. And me time? Forget it.

There's a blog entry I've been meaning to make for two weeks now. It's about how beautiful the fall colors on my street are this year. I've been in my house for 12 years, and this is the most vibrant and multi-hued I've ever seeen them. And yet, in the midst of nature's glory, the city of U. City has seen fit to mark a number of the not-so-brilliant trees (all right, the dying ones) with angry, fluorescent orange X's, signaling their impending, hastened demise. It mars my appreciation of the beauty, that's for sure.

Tonight we're at a show, our fourth of the week. (Yes, this is about my limit. Don't even ask how much beer I've drank this week.) I'm out of sorts and I can't pinpoint the reason. Long day working, both in front of the computer and caring for other people's dogs. But it's more than that. This band we're watching—they're very good. I keep thinking of them as Killers lite. Their music's tight, catchy; some really memorable guitar licks and drum segments.

The lead singer has a solid if unremarkable voice (obviously studied Bono's stylings a bit too much). Maybe that's it, or the fact that he rarely picks up an instrument, instead posturing and posing (or—let's be honest here—the fact that he thanked everyone but the venue (the place that let them play) and us (the show sponsors and the ones who ultimately got the venue on board and pulled the lineup together).

OK, yes. I'm bitter. Here's a lesson to you, then: Remember who helped you. And thank them.

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