Big nights in small towns always seem to amaze me. There's something audaciously fun about watching a small community come alive with the chatter and anticipation of a new event. Typically, weekends in Somerset involve lazy days filled will Wal-Mart runs, grocery store visits, a possible dinner outing, and a trip to the local watering hole to meet and greet with friends.
Last night proved an enjoyable distraction from the typical routine. Nothing like a big white tent filled with music to bring out the people. Listening to Tres Lads and The Clarks while mingling and catching up with old friends, drinking cold beverages, and enjoying the fine sport of people watching defiantly got the best of me.
I'd like to send out my thanks to my personal Nurse Chickadee for all the love I was shown. I can always count on you to let me ramble endlessly about death, construct a bed on the bathroom floor, photograph me at my finest, allow me to eat Doritos for breakfast, and then cap off the treatment with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. You rock my world, Chad-o. Thanks for bringing the Clarks to town, and thank you for making the hood a happening hangout.
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