Tuesday Life
Last night Andrew and I took our weekly walk to Roseville Tuesday Nights, the street fair we’ve been to twice before now, pursuing our quest to enjoy the city’s small-town charms. After walking the length of the fair and buying some tomatoes at the farmer’s market, we sat and watched the band for a while, people-watching. On this particular night a group of very little kids were maniacally dancing and running in circles around a tree; a man wearing a “TEAM CHURCH” t-shirt stood off to the side, doing a jerky, robotic dance of his own; and a man sitting near us embarked on what we suspected would be a successful effort to eat an entire large pizza straight from the box.
Near 9pm—closing time—a man got up to announce the band’s name and make a few other statements. He concluded by requesting that the band not play a particular song. “I’m going through a divorce,” he announced to the crowd, “and I’m not sure I could handle it!” He said this with a bright smile and a laugh that suggested he was trying to “see the humor” in it all. Andrew and I glanced at each other out of the corners of our eyes.
It was actually cool out last night—I wore a light sweater—as if Sunday’s sizzling hell never happened.
Near 9pm—closing time—a man got up to announce the band’s name and make a few other statements. He concluded by requesting that the band not play a particular song. “I’m going through a divorce,” he announced to the crowd, “and I’m not sure I could handle it!” He said this with a bright smile and a laugh that suggested he was trying to “see the humor” in it all. Andrew and I glanced at each other out of the corners of our eyes.
It was actually cool out last night—I wore a light sweater—as if Sunday’s sizzling hell never happened.
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