Newscoma

We sat and chatted last night over a cold beer as chilly weather began to make its presence outside, talking of tombstones for pets that were discovered by Dirk Diggler, politics and the local college, and how we would be lost without it. The bar was too smoky even for me, and someone played some of the cheesiest music I have heard in a long time after a local woman had done good getting her Elvis Costello,  and giving me the thumbs up as she knew I loved him.

We know what we likes, if you know what I mean. Good music followed by some variation of hair metal. Ehh, our differences are what join us together in the church of the fellowship of the bar.

It was charming in its own way and so we settled in for a bit because, as always, visiting is of the good. It needs to be done every now and then, where heavier issues are set aside for a moment.

I will be headed to see this grave marker, which Dirk swears has a picture of a dog on it and that the dog has on glasses. As you know, that’s right up my alley. He said that from what he has heard, the dog was buried alongside his human. For some reason, this gives me a feeling of sadness and exhilaration this morning after.

Why? I do not know.

The place was more packed than usual, and I had a conversation with a man about how pizza in Europe is so much better than pizza here. The only place that has been able to recreate it, in my opinion, is New York City, although Pizza Perfect in Nashville is also VERY good. I think it’s because I like gouda mixed with mozzarella, and he just talked of being in far off place where the food is different and exotic. He is in the National Guard. We also talked of German beer and how it will knock you on your hiney. The thing is that it’s just better there. You can’t get that type of hopps and barley drubbing here with what is available.

Earlier in the day, Squirrel Queen and I heard about the adventures of being an engineer (and how trains are like a fussy mistress who bears a great weight), about local ghosts and ate nachos that were entirely too messy. I asked a local real estate agent where the best ghosts were and he looked at me like I’d lost his mind. I will ask my friend, Realtor Mom, to let me in on the secrets of our town. I think she won’t mind in the least because it’s sort of fun to know these things and she is very groovy about these things.

As we gathered around with a couple of my local bromances and one of my sismances (who is KK) we watched folks play darts as the evening winded down. as people laughed and good-naturedly competed with each other to be King/Queen of the Darts that particular evening. Bragging rights are always good during a recession, I assure you.

I also heard from Dirk that he saw Mr. Jimmy making his usual rounds around town and not to worry.

“He was out walking the other day,” Diggler said. “He’s fine. No worries.”

I think it is in these moments where the world is left outside that there are moments of unusual clarity that everything is going to be okay, and if it’s not, then each of us will get through it.

Random, I know.