Daily Grace, Presence

Music in a Target Parking Lot

July 22, 2023

Who were these bands? At first, I had no idea. But now I do, at least a little. Which makes my world bigger and brighter.

I went to a Shinyribs concert with a friend this week. She did not bully me into it, although she later confessed that she was afraid that she might have. It was a band that I had never heard of playing a type of music that I wasn’t familiar with. Wikipedia labels their sound as “Southern soul, swamp-funk.” I did not know much about “swamp-funk.” I drove about 100 miles to her house, because she is a friend who does not live close by, and then we drove about another hour to the venue.

The concert was outside in a cordoned off area at the back of a brewery which was at the back of a Target parking lot. Somehow, they created a concert venue there. Somebody fenced off an area, created a “grassy” (I think it was Astroturf) hill where concert goers could sit in low-backed chairs, brought in a few picnic tables facing a stage, and sectioned off an area in the middle near the stage where folks could dance. There was a bar at the back and food was included with your concert ticket if you purchased a package. So along with a concert, you could enjoy tri-tip with German potato salad and tasty baked beans or barbequed ribs with French fries.

I have been to a few concerts in my life, but none in recent years.

(It is possible that the last concert I attended was by Barry Manilow in Ohio when my daughter, who recently graduated from college, was in first grade. Barry Manilow is not swamp-funk).

I certainly had never been to a concert like that. The band: Shinyribs. The band members: mostly not young. Mostly, I think, possibly older than even me? Which was also true of many of the concert goers.

None of that mattered, though.

How could it matter when the 50-something lead singer,  in a bright green shirt and orange hat, careened around the stage with crazy good dance moves and nonstop energy, even doing the splits on stage?

You wouldn’t even have known that it was an older crowd, if you closed your eyes a little, enough so that you didn’t notice all the grey hair, and only saw the dancing. This crowd was alive. The dance floor was packed. There was nothing but joy there.

I felt the joy, too. Which was what my friend wanted for me, I think. Because the last time I saw her (since you don’t always see friends who live that far away as often as you would like), I was going through a bit of a rough patch. You know about those, I bet. Continue Reading…

Presence

Too Hot to Crockpot

July 15, 2023

It is so hot this weekend that the cat has to lie down to drink his water.

The weather has been good to us this year; we were lucky that way. (I know many other regions were not so fortunate.)

We had record amounts of rain and snow, and while that wasn’t always easy, especially when the power went out for days and there was five feet of snow between my house and Main Street, we survived. We survived, and the snow and rain filled up our reservoirs, and for the first time in years I feel less guilty about turning on my sprinklers and watering my flowers. The trees are fruiting. It hasn’t even been that hot!

Until now.

This weekend?

It’s hot.

We’ve historically known what to do in these parts when the days get hot. Open the windows at night to let the Delta breeze blow in. Close them in the morning to lock in that cold air. Most older homes around here weren’t built with air conditioning. I grew up to the song of my Mom calling me to “open the windows” in the evening and “close the windows” in the late morning. I’ve had my children do the same thing. Sure, the house can get a little uncomfortable in the late afternoon when the sun is beaming in, but hang on for an hour or so, and the sun dips, and the breeze wanders back, and all is well.

All is well, that is, when the overnight lows drop into the fifties and sixties, which is “normal,” according to the weather charts.

Except normal is not so normal anymore.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this problem of our “new normal” before here, possibly 1000 times. It is just difficult when the overnight lows stay in the seventies and daytime highs are in the hundreds. The low tonight will not be 59 degrees (our historical average). It will be 75. And 75 feels pretty sweaty when you are trying to sleep. I know that a window air conditioning unit would help, except my windows are old, fancy ones that open outward with a crank, and there is no way to put a unit in them. (We do have fans, and they help a lot.)

It occurred to me this morning as I was making my bed that perhaps it would be a good idea to finally take off my flannel sheets and down comforter (which just goes to show you what a lovely spring and beginning to summer we’ve had this year). Also, I remembered that it’s smart to use appliances that radiate heat early in the day. My new rule: no appliances that emit heat once the sun is up. That means making iced tea and hummingbird food early and remembering to start the dryer if I need it. It’s also meant that I leave my crockpot on the shelf.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but that thing seems to radiate a little heat, which is lovely in the winter, but not so good right now. It’s not a huge problem, though, because when it’s 80 degrees in the house, hot food doesn’t sound so appealing anyway.

Here is one good thing about the heat, though: my vegetables are loving it. The cucumbers I planted a few weeks ago have grown tall enough to reach out and grab the fence netting that is next to their planter box. Something about that strikes me as so miraculous. Like, how do they know that if they reach out a little further, they will find something to hold onto? Seems like it happened over night. One day they were on dirt, and the next they had wound their little tendrils around the support that they needed.

I am going to try to be more like those cucumbers: reaching out for support, especially on days that are brutally hot. I’m grateful for my friends who have pools who invite us over to swim, for friends with air conditioning who let us come for a visit. I’m thankful for our little community pool that is open every day in the summer, for the cooling centers that have sprung up in nearby towns. Somehow, we make it through these days together. And hopefully there will be cucumbers, tomatoes, and a little break in the weather soon.