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I had a really great day today. Like an A+ Saturday. I went to the Linganore Wine Festival in Mt. Airy, Md. Thousands of people gather for music, fun food, arts and of course wine. It was gorgeous weather, except for the few minutes we were inside looking at awesome stuff for sale and eating this.
That’s little bits of raspberry over dark chocolate. The wine was great, and abundant. Lots of laughs with my friends.
So I got home and decided I didn’t want to nap away the rest of my Saturday. The washing machine is broken, so I grabbed my laptop and headed to the laundromat. I haven’t been to one in 25 years at least. Here is what I learned.
It’s 100 degrees in here.
There are no seats. I’m writing this from a folding chair I keep in my car.
To wash a load of laundry is THREE TO SIX FUCKING DOLLARS! I haven’t gotten to drying yet.
And the people are really nice.
I am not going to get into racism. There is nothing to discuss. It’s is unbelievable and absolutely horrible what people of color contend with in this country. But I do find myself asking, why are people in this country so often put off by people in different socioeconomic situations? I have no answer, but I’m asking the question. Most people in here aren’t here because their washer is broken and they are still buzzed from a day of wine. I look at what is costs to do a load of wash in this sweltering, shitty little place and think, my God this nation is hard on the working poor. Really fucking hard.
I feel a very long way away from this suddenly.
Yesterday was a bizarre and amazing the day, probably worthy of a #Mondayblog share. Please forgive typos and ramblings. I’m on my phone, here…
That’s my interpretation of the seemingly requisite legs and toes facing the surf pic. You’ll have to settle for a knee sliver.
Anyway so I arrived at the eastern shore of Md yesterday and noticed immediately the town was insane. It was like the day before Christmas at Tysons, combined with the night before Thanksgiving at Wegmans and the Mall on the 4th of July. (Too much local color?) Pulling up to my hotel I nearly ran off the road as a bright red bi-plane (Is that a thing?) flew about 6 inches over my SUV (I’m serious) before nearly taking off the roof of my hotel and climbing vertically, then spiral diving the beach leaving an enormous contrail. Clearly a terrorist attack.
After I pulled myself off the floor of my car I started to notice signs and banners and a celebration under way. Oh… an air show. Huh.
An hour later I was sitting on the beach with a good friend and 4.2 billion other people. It was interesting, but a Xanax or 12 bourbons might have helped. I think I saw some very interesting planes that other people would have known. I did not, but this one was very interesting and terrifyingly fast and loud.
And this helicopter rescue stuff was very cool…
And then it happened. Unbeknownst to my dumb ass, I was front row center at the Beatles Show of aviation. “Next up, THE BLUE ANGELS.” Ummm what?
My Dad was a Blue Angels fanatic! I can’t remember how many times, or where I was, but all I know is that I was on my Dad’s shoulders watching. Watching The Blue Angels. These are some of my earliest childhood memories. My Dad would have LOVED sitting on this damn beach smelling the smoke.
What a gift! It is impossible to watch the Blue Angels and feel anything but grateful. Here’s to unexpected surprises.