Weirdly, I went and saw live music three time this past week. That’s some kind of record, surpassing my late-80s habit of seeing every Dead show within, well, a something-mile radius. That was before kids, back when I could stay up past 9; before I had to write a sermon for Sunday morning. But I’m on some kind of roll here: STIG, then Darlingside in Saratoga—go see them asap— and today some bluegrassy-stuff at Stratton to bid adieu to one season and welcome to another.
Lots of shiny faces, lovely humans, groovy sounds, fanny wagging, good stories, mediocre pizza. And, as always, the girls. And … the SUN!!