Hermitude/Birthday/Spice

Yesterday was my birthday. I have breathed air and shed skin cells for 25 years...A quarter century of being stuck to this wet marble as it plays ring around the rosy with the sun. I guess I have five years left before I officially start evaluating my life path.

Andy treated me to a dinner at The Pepper Sisters last night. The food there is really spicy, I am not sure what you would call that kind of food. Beans, sour cream, chicken, blue tortilla chips, coose coose...Maybe southwestern? Cajun? Great food. We had a few beers there and then came home to find Justin and Doug sitting on our porch cradling 40 oz'ers of Steel Reserve in high spirits. We joined them, talking for a while. Doug busted out the digital video camera every couple of minutes to record our conversation. After awhile, talking wasn't what we wanted to do anymore--listening to silence was no good either, so we all got instruments. Justin had my fiddle, Andy, his guitar, Doug, Andy's bongo drums, and me, my harmonica. Justin may be borderline schizophrenic, but he sure can play music. After the music we came in and Doug busted out his map of whatcom county outlining the areas he plans on living this summer. He is going to leave in June and live in the Cascade national forest for three months. He leaves civilization every couple of years to find himself I guess, who knows why people do the things they do. There were times when I wanted to move up to the mountains and be Davey Crockett or a hermit monk, but not so much anymore. Doug went on and on about that map, chattering into the wee hours of the morning. I had to work today, he doesn't have a job. Jobs. I finally said good night as they picked up their instruments, begining again that old style fiddlin' music.