Courthouse Lawn

Last night was some gorgeous music in a gorgeous spot: Hillsborough.

Somehow, living down the road from Hillsborough for eighteen years, I’ve never managed to spend any time there.  There’s the sweetest little downtown.  There are a thousand historical markers, in a four-block stretch.  We went to a festival, and there was music all day on the steps of the old courthouse.

We got there and set up our blankets on the lawn in time for Onward, Soldiers.  We made a Weaver Street run, and were treated to James Justin and Co.  After that it was Yarn, who did my favorite kind of Yarn set: nice and tight, plowing through my favorites at full speed, one after the other.

It was great fun.  Thus far, however, 2012 giveth, and 2012 taketh away; I was thoroughly enjoying fall night and friends and falling leaves and Americana on the blanket when I rolled over, and everything in my unstable knee suddenly sounded like popcorn popping, and I thought, “that doesn’t sound good,” and today everything is achy and I feel like someone should wrap me in bubble wrap.  I am not in the mood for knee surgery.  I am not in the mood for crutches.  I am not in the mood for the $5000 out-of-pocket expense which my effing intern architect health insurance will require, in that I do not have $5000. Oh, and no sick leave, either.  I am aware that my knee is held together by the forces of cheer and caution and optimism.  Please please please, let it hold out until some future date when I am better insured.

So, today, I am sitting quietly, and am thinking that porch time and a book would be the best option.  No sudden movements.  I have to remain intact for Tuesday, when I will achieve a critical Life List item, “hear Bruce Springsteen sing Thunder Road,” I hope I hope I hope.

2012 does indeed giveth, some.  Fingers crossed it does so this week.  Send good vibes everyone.  I’ll do the same in return.  This year isn’t over yet. I’m still looking for good things to come.

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