Friday: it beats the crap out of yesterday
This afternoon started much like yesterday: standing in a long line. I decided that my leg is too damaged for a ski trip today, so I'm taking it easy and hoping to heal it by the time the Sunday pick-up game rolls around. Hearing that the Obama rally would offer much more seating than the Slick Willy event yesterday, I decided to take my chances on another wait in the cold.
Kaijsa and I started nearly twice as far back in the line (and Cass stayed home to recover from yesterday's unsuccessful foray in the cold), but the event was so much better planned that we made up that distance in virtually no time and were seated in section B, about 20 rows up. Aside from some minor shenanigans in getting seated, things went smoothly. But even before that, the weather seemed to bode well. In the place of slicing cold wind was a nearly warm sun. An auspicious breeze to blow us to our places inside.
Then, the rally. It was good. Our man Obama made a joke about the Secret Service confiscating Pistol Pete's six-shooters. And one about his cousin Dick Cheney.
Afterwards we met up with Brett, who rode his bicycle over to the Library to claim a table for us and Peter and Matt and Tanna, and we had a tasty dinner and some rather flat microbrew and good conversation about Obama and roller rinks and chapstick. No long wait in line, no cold, no lousy service. Wyoming at its best.
Then four of us headed to the ok go concert. I only knew one song by them, but I liked their style. Now I'm headed to bed, feeling like God has smiled down upon this day. Friday: it beats the crap outta yesterday.
Kaijsa and I started nearly twice as far back in the line (and Cass stayed home to recover from yesterday's unsuccessful foray in the cold), but the event was so much better planned that we made up that distance in virtually no time and were seated in section B, about 20 rows up. Aside from some minor shenanigans in getting seated, things went smoothly. But even before that, the weather seemed to bode well. In the place of slicing cold wind was a nearly warm sun. An auspicious breeze to blow us to our places inside.
Then, the rally. It was good. Our man Obama made a joke about the Secret Service confiscating Pistol Pete's six-shooters. And one about his cousin Dick Cheney.
Afterwards we met up with Brett, who rode his bicycle over to the Library to claim a table for us and Peter and Matt and Tanna, and we had a tasty dinner and some rather flat microbrew and good conversation about Obama and roller rinks and chapstick. No long wait in line, no cold, no lousy service. Wyoming at its best.
Then four of us headed to the ok go concert. I only knew one song by them, but I liked their style. Now I'm headed to bed, feeling like God has smiled down upon this day. Friday: it beats the crap outta yesterday.
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