Saw that on the back of a t-shirt at the High Mountain Hay Fever Bluegrass Festival in Westcliffe this weekend. We went with Dancehall and family. And my Dad was there too, for part of it. It's a great spot for a festival. High in the mountains (8000-ish feet), with the Never Summer Range looming in the background. The bands were good too. Very purist approach, as opposed to say, the Telluride Bluegrass Festival, which allows folks like Elvis Costello and Barenaked Ladies to perform. I love Elvis. But he's not exactly bluegrass.
The only downside was that the crowd was pretty old (meaning, older than me, of course). Much older than the Rockygrass demographic, for instance. And some were not too tolerant of little kids. Or talking. Or any signs of human life. The woman next to us told us she loved children, but we soon found out this love was mostly theoretical, and didn't extend to actual children, displaying actual behavior. She actually stood up and loudly shushed Dancehall's husband for speaking in conversational tones. At an outdoor festival. At the back of the seating area.
I'm glad she was there, though. Without her, we might have experienced a moment of authentic joy, unfettered by guilt or angst or fear. And nobody wants that.
Pedro's back! The Phillies signed Pedro Martinez last week, so, pending the physical exam, he's pitching again. Now, the Phillies are divisional rivals of the Mets, but I guess I'm gonna have to start rooting for them every fifth day. Because Pedro transcends mere team loyalty.