I haven’t been to enough concerts to know how big the average mid-sized venue is but, since we were going to see Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians, I figured we’d better get there pretty early to make sure we could still get tickets. I certainly did not expect to be the first car in the parking lot at 6:30 for a show that started at 8. The doors didn’t even open until 7, so we hung out at the bar next door for a bit, where we bought pizza, beer, and our tickets.

Seven o’clock rolled around and still only a few other people had wandered in. We carried the remainder of our meal into the next room and found a sweet little drink table against the wall and right in front of the stage. It was the last of maybe 8 tables and there were more stools in the back which we rounded up for the rest of our group as the room finally began to fill with people, casually milling about, beer in hand.

Joe Purdy opened the show with Brian Wright and some of the New Bohemians. I’d never heard of him or his music before, but he rocked it so hard I bought the CD after the show (which also rocks). It’s a style of music I would call river folk and was the perfect lead in for Edie.

The woman must have perfect pitch. She was just rock solid throughout the entire show, mixing old favorites in with some really good new material. Which, by the way, I watched from about 10 feet away. I bought her new CD, too. The few times that the view was blocked, it was by the beer fetching half of a couple that was so matchy-matchy that I just couldn’t help but giggle. Picture a sort of weight-lifter build in jeans and a black leather jacket. Perfectly feathered blonde hair. Now picture it again at half again the scale with a moustache and a white shirt instead of pink. Too. Funny.

Mid-size venues are the best.

Sometime back in June or July I decided to learn how to make toe-up socks. It was the same basic design, just knit in reverse. These would also be intended for summer wear, which required a thinner yarn and smaller needles. But still, how hard could it be, right?

The first sock went through half a dozen froggings (unraveling completed work) and took well over two months to complete. I only kept at it because the self-striping yarn rocked, I was learning a valuable skill, and these would be the first pair of socks I wasn’t making for someone else.

Or so I thought.

Having finally finished the first sock a couple of weeks ago, I immediately put it on and started the second half of the pair so as not to lose momentum. The completed sock looked fabulous but, after a while, turned out to be just a wee bit too tight for comfort. And it didn’t breathe as well as I had hoped. Still, I couldn’t leave the job half done. Luckily, the second sock went much faster and was completed last night. Just in time for the first snow of the season. I hope to give them to a good home.

For your viewing pleasure, here they are, the toe-up socks of dooooom.

I’m feeling drained of words lately. It’s not so much that I haven’t had anything to say but that I’ve temporarily lost the ability and the will to express it to my satisfaction. My muse has taken a vacation; my mind is blanketed.

Maybe it’s the fall season quieting my spirit; encouraging me to slow down for a while. Take a break. Relax and recharge. Maybe sit in front of the tv and finish that one sock I’ve been working on all summer.

Mym and I drove out to a beautiful state park about an hour outside of town today. The trees were beginning to turn to reds and golds, shedding leaves lightly in the breeze. We meandered down a path and hiked up a rocky trail, stopping often to rest, enjoy the view and dislodge the hosts of asian beetles hitching rides on passersby. It turned out to be harder going down than up since the rocks had been worn slick from the many feet trafficking across, but we took our time and made it back without incident.

It was a rare gift; a day for zen. We had no schedule, no plans, no demands on our time. We were content to wander as the mood struck us… or not.

Sitting on a park bench together… watching a family throw a stick into the lake for their enthusiastic black lab… listening to the wind rustle the leaves… remembering the spectacular apple pie from the orchard up the road.

It was a good day.