Happy Hopscotch, y’all.
There are a lot of us out there for whom Hopscotch feels like Christmas. BETTER than Christmas, for there is no squabbling over plans, no frantic wrapping of a thousand gifts, no awkward office gift exchanges. Hopscotch is a gift, pure and simple.
Occasionally the generosity of my former self astounds my current self. She bought me a Hopscotch wristband in February, with the last paycheck from a job which was always a bad fit, days from that same office closing dramatically. Former self had no plan in place for another job. Did not know what the coming year had in store, did not know that within a few weeks she’d find a better, infinitely and indescribably better, gig which she did not know existed. Did not know that things would turn out fine. So she bought me a Hopscotch three-day pass, knowing that even if she never, ever, ever found another job, that I would really appreciate all this lovely music, come September.
And I do. More than I can say.