The Perfect Country and Western Song

For weeks and weeks, I've been trying to remember what song Bob and Madison used to play on G105 on Friday mornings when I was in elementary school and woke up to them every day. They played something, something kind of country, every week, and it came to symbolize Friday for me. But what was it? I haven't been able to remember even a snippet, but it's been nagging me. Then, tonight at Azaleafest, I heard a riff of outdoor karaoke and suddenly remembered the line, "you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'. You never even call me by my name." Came home and Googled it, and now I have bookmarked the lyrics and a YouTube video of "The Perfect Country and Western Song" by John Prine. What a relief, and more than that, a feeling of accomplishment and recovery of something lost.

I've also been writing a piece about my old neighborhood, working my way through memories of each family in each house, and it's surprising how many stories life holds and how easily they slip under the surface of immediate need to know. So, it feels really good to remember things you forgot for a long time. And the Internet is like God because it's so huge and crucial that I take it for granted.

My hair is long enough to go in pigtails now, if I pin back the sides. The plant by the window is thriving. Skirts and tank tops are coming out of storage. We're almost home free on schoolwork, which is good because I've got Montana on the brain. So the future and the past are in pleasing balance.