The Eagles Have Landed

I used to be pretty savvy with new innovative gadgets, but as I grow older I have come to realize that either my brain is a little slower or things have gotten harder and a lot more complicated. Take text messaging for instance. I got it with a package on my last phone and it completely eluded me. I watch as these little kids use their thumbs to fly across the tiny phone keyboard.I used the service for a month and tried to converse with my niece who would send a message and it would take me ten minutes to compose and then type a response. She would then answer in a microsecond and I had to reply. Hell I can't even type on this keyboard without a lot of problems. I'm struggling here with my right index finger pecking out letters that often are inappropriate because I can't find what I need. It may partly be because I'm trying to eat raspberry icecream with my left as I compose. Sandy keeps wondering why the keys are sticking.The other day I was driving down the street and this chubby little urchin was peddling down the sidewalk on a funny looking bike with one hand up to his ear talking on his cell phone. Now who was this little devil talking to riding on his bike?I always have to hunt for question marks, and I'm trying to invent some way to blog without any punctuation. I think I'm doing pretty good because the indentions for paragraphing have so far eluded me(obviously). The crises-du-jour electronically has been the acquisition of a new mp3 from my mother-in-law because I cut her grass. I figured out how to put some of my favorite cds on the thing from the computer and thought that I would save space and erase them from the computer hard drive in preparation of loadind more cds onto the mp3. Well I ripped more music on the computer and then hooked up the old usb to the mp3. Guess what? the computer took my first downloaded songs off like I had taken off the harddrive. Seems like the computer got pissed that I got too cute . I won't do that again. The GPS that my mother-in-law got me has also found disfavor in my heart. I have grown tired of that smart assed little woman's voice telling me every time I take a turn she doesn't want me too. Hell, I've had Sandy telling me about wrong turns for 35 years, for free no less. I just quit using the GPS because there is a duet of feminine voices telling me where to turn, which brings up the purpose of this blog. I think it was in early SEptember that Sandy got us tickets to see the Eagles in concert.Now we've been watching the Melborne concert on DVD all winter and we had made the pact that if they ever came anywhere near we would go see them . Well we went to St. Louis and watched the Eagles at the Scott Trade Center where some hockey team normally plays, and it was wonderful. The Eagles came out and performed for three hours. There was some new material out of their last album , but mostly their classics spanning 40 years. The crowd loves it all, but when Joe Walsh starts playing Walk Away the concert really starts. Everything is great ,but Joe is my favorite. Sandy likes him the least. She favors Don Henley when he closes out the show with Desperado.We liked the concert so well that we have tickets in November to the same show in Cincinnati.These guys only get better as they age, not to mention wealthier.I wonder if Joe Walsh has as much trouble with technology as I do? I wonder if he text messages people? He certainly is one of the top five rock guitar players in the industry.I've often said that I would trade one and one half masters degrees for the ability to play guitar like JOe or Eric Clapton.I would bet Joe has as difficult a time text messaging as I do, at least I hope he does. We were just over in Charleston, South Carolina the past few days, and I did pretty good driving Sandy's Yukon around except for when I nearly ran over this young yuppie couple trying to cross Vendue Street off of East Bay. The guy was okay, but his young mate was shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Look Babe, I could have run over you!As it was I didn't even touch them, mainly because they were young and fast-quite fast, if I remember.I was reading Nelson DeMille's new book The Gatehouse, and I was interested when JOhn Sutter orders a pink squirrel at a bar. Turns out a pink squirrel is four fingers of scotch on the rocks.That Babe I almost bluecrossed probably needed a double pink squirrel. One of my most vivid memories of the Isle of Palms was of Dave the Magistrate sitting in this bar called Coconut Joes overlooking a magnificent beach while watching Kentucky figure out how to lose to Georgia in the last 28 seconds. Dave was drinking a pina colota with whipped cream and shaved chocolate on top. I tried to tell him that he couldn't look very manly and indignant over Kentucky's loss with such a sissy-assed drink in his hand ,and he calously brought up that I had nearly run over a young couple on Vendue Street. He was right.The only thing that would have been more perfect that afternoon would have been Joe walking in and doing Rocky Mountain Way.Here's to a pretty young brunette with rage in her eyes.