Sunday Morning
It's a cloudy, chilly Sunday morning here in central Minnesota. I suppose calling 60 degrees "chilly" is pretty relative. Four months ago this would be tank top and shorts weather. Now it's jacket weather. But it feels great either way.
Yesterday was a good day. Dale, Brian, Bob and Kevin came over and we set up in the garage and had our one and only vocal rehearsal for Farm Fest. For not playing together for 11 months, things came together quickly. Plenty of songs had stops and starts, and we had to clarify who sang what on a few, but I don't think we sounded overly terrible. Like Brian said, "It's like riding a bike." That's true. Once you're not afraid of falling off, riding a bike is pretty easy.
Our next rehearsal as a full band will be on Friday before Farm Fest. Sheesh, you talk about cutting it as close as you can! But I think we'll be ready. I'm feeling pretty good about it now.
On Friday I went out to the farm and mowed. I encountered a wasp nest on the entry door of the storage shed which put me an hour behind schedule. The nest was fixed against the door and the top of the door frame. I wasn't sure if it was empty or not, so I stupidly opened the door, which in turn ripped their nest apart and I very quickly had a couple dozen pissed-off wasps dive-bombing me.
I can assure you fat men can run pretty fast if they have to.
I made it to my truck without getting killed and I sat there for a few minutes before deciding that I was pretty much the biggest idiot in Otter Tail county at that moment.
My only choice was to trek off to Wadena to get some ammunition. When I got back to the farm I waged chemical warfare on those buggers. I won.
And that was my excitement for the week.
The very pregnant Mrs. Branstner is about to put homemade caramel rolls into the oven, which is sort of becoming our Sunday tradition... and that's not a bad thing. That means it's time to go.
A quick story to close. The other night I was rocking my beautiful daughter before bedtime. I told her a story, then we talked for a little while. Soon she was quiet. I rocked for a little longer and I thought she must have fallen asleep. I was just about ready to lay her down when she shattered the silence by inexplicably announcing: "I have Tinkerbell underpants."
Moments like those make all the trying times worth it.
~
Yesterday was a good day. Dale, Brian, Bob and Kevin came over and we set up in the garage and had our one and only vocal rehearsal for Farm Fest. For not playing together for 11 months, things came together quickly. Plenty of songs had stops and starts, and we had to clarify who sang what on a few, but I don't think we sounded overly terrible. Like Brian said, "It's like riding a bike." That's true. Once you're not afraid of falling off, riding a bike is pretty easy.
Our next rehearsal as a full band will be on Friday before Farm Fest. Sheesh, you talk about cutting it as close as you can! But I think we'll be ready. I'm feeling pretty good about it now.
On Friday I went out to the farm and mowed. I encountered a wasp nest on the entry door of the storage shed which put me an hour behind schedule. The nest was fixed against the door and the top of the door frame. I wasn't sure if it was empty or not, so I stupidly opened the door, which in turn ripped their nest apart and I very quickly had a couple dozen pissed-off wasps dive-bombing me.
I can assure you fat men can run pretty fast if they have to.
I made it to my truck without getting killed and I sat there for a few minutes before deciding that I was pretty much the biggest idiot in Otter Tail county at that moment.
My only choice was to trek off to Wadena to get some ammunition. When I got back to the farm I waged chemical warfare on those buggers. I won.
And that was my excitement for the week.
The very pregnant Mrs. Branstner is about to put homemade caramel rolls into the oven, which is sort of becoming our Sunday tradition... and that's not a bad thing. That means it's time to go.
A quick story to close. The other night I was rocking my beautiful daughter before bedtime. I told her a story, then we talked for a little while. Soon she was quiet. I rocked for a little longer and I thought she must have fallen asleep. I was just about ready to lay her down when she shattered the silence by inexplicably announcing: "I have Tinkerbell underpants."
Moments like those make all the trying times worth it.
~
