Farmers Market – Now & in Two Weeks
7:00am came far too early this morning and the blaring beeping of the alarm clock jolted me out of a not so sound sleep. Once again, hubby had had a restless sleep and his tendency to take up 3/4 of the bed while punctuating the air with the occasional loud snore snort, which meant that my sleep was less than desirable. I pondered the idea of getting up and watching tv or playing some Guitar Hero, but that wasn’t an option either. I may, however, think about going and sleeping on the spare bed downstairs if this pattern of sleeping continues because I’m starting to feel a little tired from not sleeping properly.
Once I finally convinced myself that I really did want to roll off the bed, my feet hit the floor and I began preparing for the day ahead. Propping my eyes open, I stared at myself in the mirror, pretending that it could not have been me looking back at myself in the mirror – hair spiked and sticking up in ways I never could convince it to do, even with the assistance of copious amounts of gel. I’ve had one friend tell me they pay lots of money to have their hair look like mine does in the morning. If only I could figure out exactly how you should lay to get people’s hair to look like mine, I could patent the process and supplement my income.
Hair firmly mostly patted in place with the aid of some sculpting putty, the remaining duty of taming it left to the use of a trusty baseball cap, I found my way to the kitchen. As I looked at the coffee pot, I realized I had absolutely no desire to make a coffee this morning, so I headed to the front door, scooped up my guitar and plunked myself into the car after depositing my guitar on the front seat. Cranking up my latest Seether album, I made a beeline for Tim Horton’s as having no desire to make coffee in no way meant I didn’t want coffee.
A view from the hill
After hitting the TIm Horton’s drive-thru and feeling a bit miffed because they had gyped me out of an extra large coffee by accidently giving me a large, I shrugged and carried on. Sipping my coffee and continuing to listen to Seether, I was starting to feel like I was awake. I was, however, a bit too early to pick up my brother, so I took a quick right hand detour and went for a drive up to a park. The park in question is most beautiful, situated high up on a hill. Back in the settler days, because the city I live in is at the junction of two major rivers, when the city would flood, the hill would become a place of refuge. It was gorgeous up there … early enough in the day not to be overrun by people and yet just late enough that the sun had warmed the air, removing any early morning dew off the grass. Parking the car, I got out and did a quick wander, enjoying the sights, and stopped long enough to snap a few pictures. Glancing at my watch, I noted that I could safely carry on to my brother’s house.
I arrived at my brother’s, and after a cursory knock on his door, he waved me in. No time to sit though, as our day had just begun. He gathered up his stuff and while I went back out to the car to wait, he locked up. Opening the back door to the car, he slid his guitar on top of mine and we headed on down to the Farmer’s Market. Finding a parking spot located not too far away from where we were going, I parked, plugged the meter with four quarters, and my brother and I sauntered off to the market, seeking out our favorite playing spot.
As we got closer to where normally situate ourself, we were greeted with a most unusual sound. Cocking my head to the side and peering a bit closer, I spotted the culprit. Someone had decided to regale the market goers with a didgeridoo. Well, I am a pretty open minded musician, but a didgeridoo? No matter, it’s a free world and my brother and I walked past the enterprising muscian and found another promising spot to play. Tuning up our guitars, we began our renditions of songs like Clayton Delaney, Killing Time, and Lodi, to name just a few. During one of our frequent pauses where my brother and I debate which song to sing next, the manager from the Farmer’s market approached and informed us that there is a special Farmer’s Market happening in two weeks and part of the celebration will be organized entertainment which she asked us to be a part of. My brother supplied her with a name and a phone number and next week we will be informed of what our time slot is.
. . . . .
Several hours after the Farmer’s Market, I delivered my brother back to his house, and returned home myself. The guitar is safely tucked away in the living room and I know I will be picking it up lots to practice over the next couple of weeks. I’ve fielded a call from my brother asking me if I have “The Boxer,” (I do) and we talked about learning some new songs for that day. I’ve no clue what other songs we will learn, as there are plenty within our repetroire which we just don’t normally play, and a few that he plays which I don’t because I am too chicken to learn them. I confess to be terrified to play in an organized event (no big surprise to anybody, right?) for I am a social player, but a shy social player. The instances where I play formally have been limited to a handful of times, and then the crowd has always been a known to me. This upcoming event is anything but a known crowd.
Theoretically speaking, the fact that I will not know most people who will hear and see me sing and play in two weeks should make the peformance easier. Theoretically speaking! Realistically speaking, I am feeling way out of my comfort zone. I know that I could probably tell my brother that he can play solo for the day, but I don’t have the heart to do that. Besides, despite feeling panicky about performing … okay, I am fibbing a bit here… I feel overwhelming panic at the thought of performing but that’s my point. I have for the past year or so, held out that the Farmer’s Market is my exposure therapy – it is the one place I go, that regardless of feeling panic, I go because I a) enjoy playing guitar b) need to get out to public places.
Chin up! Time to by new guitar strings to make that guitar sound a little crisper and cleaner. Time to dig out the song book and start cruising the net looking for inspiration for new songs. Time to convince myself that it will be fun to play for a whole bunch of people I don’t know.
Bye for now.
