I have an acoustic guitar that I named Wally. I bought him on Facebook Marketplace about two years ago. A drummer in a country rock band owned the guitar and he never played it. He bought it so he could learn how to play, but he never got around to it. Wally sat in the man's garage for over two years and outside of needing new strings, the instrument was pristine. The sale price for the exact Yamaha model number was over $500 when I first bought Wally for $100; so I feel like I got a really good deal. I don't know if the drummer paid that much, he had a friend at Guitar Center who used his personal discount. I know the entire story.
When I brought Wally home I had intentions of learning to play him as well. I bought a book, I bought a CD on training yourself, but my fingers are not being very cooperative with my brain. My brain is not the issue here, the fleshy tenant of my skull is directing my fingers to do this or that, but they just sort of sit there; without being nimble and without being the least bit motivated. I can only do what I can do. So, what I'm doing now is intellectually training myself through reading, videos, etc, and if my hands ever do get around to wanting to partner up with my mind, I'll have a really good time playing Wally. Until then, I just strum along, sing little songs to my dog Ginger, and pretend I'm some sort of master. Don't laugh, we all do that.
Did you read the title of the Blog? I bought a pair of drumsticks. There was NO reason whatsoever for the purchase. The ONLY reason they ended up in my hands was that I took them from a toddler who was about to try and put them in his mouth again. His mother wasn't paying attention and the boy could have thrust them down his throat if he fell. Yep, that's me, Granny, on the spot! I was on top of that boy in less than a flash and grabbing those sticks from his open mouth. He stared at me, but I stared right back at him. I wonder if he actually has ever experienced a Southern Grandma before. He could be traumatized, I don't know.
Anyway, I walked around with them because they were covered in his drool and I didn't want to put them back on the shelf where someone could pick them up unsuspectingly; I'm so nice sometimes. Then, because I was walking around with them, trying to find the hand sanitizer, I thought I would just go ahead and buy them, clean them when I got home, and use them to torment the animals. Good plan. They are the best tormenters out there really. I have no idea what I'm doing when I beat and pound on things, I'm just channeling my memories of Alex Van Halen, and trying to make some sense of the world.
I did however because I'm cool like that, email the guy who sold me Wally. I told him the story and he said he would have grabbed the sticks and beat the mother with them. He and me both really. I can't blame or fault the woman though, you can't watch the baby 24/7/365. It's impossible. That's why God made angels, and that's why angels use Grammas. Reuben was about 17-18 months old when I had to let go of his hand to open a door, and he took off into the street behind us. I about died myself that day. I had put the thing I was holding in my left hand over the safety of my child. It happens. We are all fallible. God is great all the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment