Cuddles, Callouses, and Compact Discs

My wife did 'a thing' that has been making us laugh for three or four days now.

It's not shareable.

Don't ask.

But while we were giggling about it this morning, she said that if 'the thing' ends up on a blog then she was "Going to start separating our CD's."

I won't betray her trust. But I will steal the line. And three thoughts popped up. One, how I was going to introduce the line, two, how does one split an iTunes acount, and three, I better start digitizing our music to my hard drive before the roofies wear off and she realizes I'm not Batman.

I get to be part of the one and only generation that lived off of vinyl, casset tapes, and compact discs. I might never have a reason to buy any of those again. Makes me sad that when my own boy is an awkward teenager with a crush on a pretty girl(boy) he will have no idea how to craft a mix tape.

A 'Playlist' is not the same thing!

Don't even think it!

It also hit me pretty hard that nobody buys CD's anymore. Five years ago I would sell ten discs every show. Now, nothing, nada, zilcho.

But I'm playing a lot more shows.

And I finally have the fingertip callouses to prove it.

Although - and I never would have guessed this - the iPad doesn't respond well when you have thick callouses on your finger tips.

Live, my friends, live and learn.

Yet, here's a cool little tidbit, calloused finger tips give the best back scratches.

Sounds a little gross typed out like that, but it gets the job done so much better than those soft girly fingers tips or those long gnarly fingernails I use for plucking guitar strings.

I'm like a Swiss Army knife when it comes to back scratches.

I have to keep today shorterish cause we're heading out to San Francisco for a little day trip. It was supposed to be 106 outside, but we get muggy overcast instead, and the plan was originially Netflix and A/C and massive cuddling. Now it's going to be fast cars, screaming kids, and sourdough bowls filed with clam chowder.


Maybe there will be a car chase involved and I finally get to see if my toyota flies just as good as Mcqueen's mustang.

Oh yeah. There's gonna be a car chase. And shots fired. And in between bowls of soup, crime will be solved. And when the people gather with their awe and their applause, I will pass out copies of my new album and tell them not to listen to it in their cars, but with a good set of headphones or their dad's hi-fi, and then a child wil come up to me, tug on my pant leg and say "Who are you?"

I will smille at that boy.

Then I will smile at my wife.

Then I will scratch the top of his head with my calloused finger tips.

"I'm Batman, son.

I'm Batman."

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