Last Saturday and Sunday I communed with fellow cyclists and a ravenous horde of mosquitoes and ticks during the annual Pedaler's Jamboree to Boonville. Split Lip Rayfield and a few similar opening bands provided the bluegrassy ambiance for us as we set up our tent in the sun. After $2 showers at the adjoining YMCA, my partner in musical crime and I walked with friends and their hungry chilluns to the local A&W where we'd been promised the best root beer around. (For the record, my root beer float was good but not as good as the few bites I snagged from my partner's Buck's ice cream float the weekend before. Buck's wins.)
(Buck's parlour of goodness)
Sunday I went to my first crawfish boil. We don't have these in Chicago. I have to confess to a curious love of this sort of thing. Standing around a table ripping the tails and legs off a bunch of red sea things in the scalding sun? Unique! Wacky! I love it. It makes me feel like I'm on vacation.
(This is how it's done...)
I'm not sure what this weekend will bring. I'm intrigued by Sedalia's Scott Joplin Festival but won't likely make the drive because of other things—like a wicked proofreading deadline and dinner plans with friends at my paramour's place Saturday night. Speaking of which, I need to compile a playlist of several hours of eclectic tunes for the event...
Hermann has its Taste for the Arts; there's Art in the Park; and I'm sure there are other events in the area that feature the word "art." We are an art-lovin' bunch here in mid-Missouri.
I owe you a music calendar for June and many music-related posts. I have become a half-assed blogger these days. Mea culpa.
One last thing: Thanks to Zac of The Comoian for pointing out that my Twitter account may have been compromised. I apparently sent the entire Yards and Gods group a tantalizing offer for erectile enhancement. Sorry, folks, the only post I'm working on right now is this one.
Have a great weekend.