Friday night, we got to see Old Crow Medicine Show and the Del McCoury Band and some other bands who are sure nice folks but not quite as good as Old Crow Medicine Show or the Del McCoury Band.  It was a good night.   I’ve been trying to see OCMS for years now.  I learned about them through sheer luck, fell hard, and then whimpered as each and every friend I introduced to the band’s music got to see them at amazing shows which, for one sad reason after another, we had to miss.  The curse is broken.  Granted, the show allowed too little time for those Crow boys to pick.  I may never get over that.  And the audience at the show didn’t appreciate the importance of some of the racier historic lyrics.  But damn those boys picked a hot set.  Before and after, I knitted on a sock and bopped away on the lawn at Wolf Trap.  I have no pictures though, because unlike the other patrons of Wolf Trap, I actually obeyed the sign and left my camera in the car.  In fact, it’s still there in Scott’s glove compartment.  It makes photographing my knitting more challenging than usual. 

Saturday, we skipped the traditional tubing with the pals, as is traditional for us since the sun makes me so very unhappy, but cruised out to Lovettesville for a good hang out and pot luck with the gang in the evening.  Several of whom didn’t know about the show at Wolf Trap, and may not forgiven us for neglecting to invite them except that they have hopes of receiving handmade felted cowboy hats with horns and/or antlers.  We got to watch the fireworks in the neighboring county in true ‘billie fashion, standing on the side of the road, adult beverages and/or barefoot children in hand.  I heart fireworks.

Sunday I decided it was time to be good and mad at the festival again, because my bone-headed spirit of volunteerism made me miss the Dukes playing on the Catoctin float so I could go to a board meeting.  On a holiday weekend.  I’m going to kick my own ass here in a second.

Deaaaammmmmmn, that makes me sad.  Fine fine, no tubing for me.  But it’s a rare thing to see my buddies play in a parade.  Grumble grumble.  I had to snag this photo from Chip, because if it isn’t challenging enough to take pictures from inside a glove box, it’s really really hard to take pictures when I’m in Upper Marlboro and the camera in in Fairfax and the subject is in Lovettesville.  From what I heard they sounded great.  Sigh. 

Right, no more whinging.  One month to make a slew of stuff and get to PA for two weeks of insanity and relaxation. 

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