Thursday, March 20, 2014

Smile. It's Spring


I've been in my car all week. I'm not sleeping the best either because my brain in processing the next day's road trip. It's a huge job and it fell onto my shoulders and that keeps my brain going and going when I really want it to just be quiet and rest.

So, on the drive this morning, I finally found a radio station I could tolerate. It plays oldies from the 1960's through the 1980's. If they get to late 1980's, I'm not real certain of the song or the artist, but I've enjoyed the mix, although I heard "Crocodile Rock" by Elton John twice yesterday; once on the way up and once on the way back. (That's a post for this weekend. More on radio music upcoming.)

I find myself drifting. You know the feeling. You're concentrating on the drive and then, suddenly, you realize a section of pavement has passed by and your brain was off somewhere. My best friend was killed in a head on collision 13 years ago when she fell asleep while driving home from work. When I find myself nodding or not paying attention, I drink lots of water and turn the radio up, forcing myself to sing along to songs I really hated when they were popular. (I'm looking at you "Night Moves".)

There was a dusting of snow on the ground, the deck and the Jeep this morning. Grumble. The air was filled with snow. Grumble. There was slick pavement and people pretending it didn't matter if they drove 70. Grumble. I don't want to be here yet I'm forced to be. Grumble. And the tea wasn't strong enough. Grumble.

Then, the sun came out as I worked my way north and, the radio station started a song that shoved all those "I'm too tireds" out of my head. Maybe you know this.

This is John Fogerty's homage to baseball, "Centerfield". You can't listen to this and not be happy. Right after this, the announcer said opening day is 2 weeks away.

Now, I'm not that much of a baseball fan anymore. I was a die hard Cubs fan, but when they started paying people millions of dollars, I lost interest. The steroid scandal and the fact that it would cost me upwards of $70 to attend a game at Wrigley Field just reinforce my feeling that it's not something fun anymore. Professional sports isn't. Still, I hear this song, and the memories of summer evenings spent watching baseball on TV or watching the high school baseball and softball teams play make me smile.

Then, I get to where I'm going and the sun is shining.

Opening day is 2 weeks away. "Put me in coach. I'm ready to play, today." It's spring.

Beverage:  water


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