I Like a Parade
New Haven had its St. Patrick's Day parade a week early for some reason, which is to say, today; I'm not sure whether it precedes the actual holiday every year or just this year. I spent most of the parade on a street corner with coworkers, one of whom hosted a brunch at her apartment right beforehand, though I missed most of that gathering due to forgetting the start time and also neglecting to set my clocks forward until 10:30 (rather 11:30) this morning.
So, fortified with a thick bloody mary and some quiche, one watches the procession of good people constituting a parade: fife and drum corps, little kids in Irish dancing clubs, bagpipers, firemen riding restored vintage trucks, mounted police, Civil War style riflemen, cyclists on odd bicycles, elderly Purple Heart recipients, Miss Greater Hamden and Miss New Haven County and Little Miss Branford and so forth. (I wondered if they have full-fledged pageants for all of these crowned young women.) For some reason there was a group of people costumed in Star Wars getup: one Jedi plus Darth and a gaggle of Storm Troopers. Later along, three or four pirates with a cannon. Fewer high school marching bands than I would have thought, but enough to occasionally overlay and produce a Charles Ives-y cadence clash, a nice sound appropriate to the old composer's stomping grounds.
Someone said that about 200,000 people attend this parade, but I have no idea whether that's accurate or not. We were situated at a quieter corner of the route, near its beginning, which suits me just fine since it keeps you away from the municipal-frat-party vibe in downtown proper.
Good times. They more or less let you drink on the street today too, so we all did.
Certain key muscles in the leg, back, and (um) gluteal regions have been a bit cranky today, owing to an informal practice yesterday with a group of people I may or may not play in a softball league with. (Okay, fine, I'll stretch next time. Not as limber as in the ol' college intramural days: check.) It is good to know that I can consistently catch soft fly balls and even hit reasonably well, however. Like today, it was mostly cloudy and in the forties, perfectly acceptable weather for early March.
Tonight, about forty minutes ago, it occurred to me that I felt as robustly happy at the moment as I had in some matter of weeks—but I can't remember why (there was no real reason) and I'm happy enough to let that go and just hit the hay: an untroubled mind, a clear conscience, eight hours of sleep and no further agenda.
Anyway, happy workweek to all & to each. Five days, holiday-free: another one of these.
So, fortified with a thick bloody mary and some quiche, one watches the procession of good people constituting a parade: fife and drum corps, little kids in Irish dancing clubs, bagpipers, firemen riding restored vintage trucks, mounted police, Civil War style riflemen, cyclists on odd bicycles, elderly Purple Heart recipients, Miss Greater Hamden and Miss New Haven County and Little Miss Branford and so forth. (I wondered if they have full-fledged pageants for all of these crowned young women.) For some reason there was a group of people costumed in Star Wars getup: one Jedi plus Darth and a gaggle of Storm Troopers. Later along, three or four pirates with a cannon. Fewer high school marching bands than I would have thought, but enough to occasionally overlay and produce a Charles Ives-y cadence clash, a nice sound appropriate to the old composer's stomping grounds.
Someone said that about 200,000 people attend this parade, but I have no idea whether that's accurate or not. We were situated at a quieter corner of the route, near its beginning, which suits me just fine since it keeps you away from the municipal-frat-party vibe in downtown proper.
Good times. They more or less let you drink on the street today too, so we all did.
Certain key muscles in the leg, back, and (um) gluteal regions have been a bit cranky today, owing to an informal practice yesterday with a group of people I may or may not play in a softball league with. (Okay, fine, I'll stretch next time. Not as limber as in the ol' college intramural days: check.) It is good to know that I can consistently catch soft fly balls and even hit reasonably well, however. Like today, it was mostly cloudy and in the forties, perfectly acceptable weather for early March.
Tonight, about forty minutes ago, it occurred to me that I felt as robustly happy at the moment as I had in some matter of weeks—but I can't remember why (there was no real reason) and I'm happy enough to let that go and just hit the hay: an untroubled mind, a clear conscience, eight hours of sleep and no further agenda.
Anyway, happy workweek to all & to each. Five days, holiday-free: another one of these.
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