"You Make me feel so Young"

Well, a friend requested that I blog a bit more frequently.  It didn't seem likely that anyone would be interested in hearing of my exploits (ahem, adventures) unless they were somewhat, well, adventurous.  Who knew?  So, here I go again...

After last evening's company "Christmas" dinner (held in February so we could get a better hall at a better rate), morning should not have started so early.  I'm sure that if requested, nature could have delayed morning for at least another hour.  But nooooo....  So when the light started shining in the window, and the cat walked across my head, there didn't seem to be much point in delaying the inevitable.  Besides, the getaway boots were beckoning, even if just for a day.

At first glance out the window, it appeared to be snowing, especially with everything coated in sparkly whiteness, but that's just frost, and the blurred appearance is due to fog.  No, really, it was foggy out, it wasn't just my personal fog from the night before.  Really. 

Am I going to make it to Tonawonda today for the NFCA show, "You make me feel so young"?  Fortunately, the fog clears within an hour, and the sun comes out and the sky is an intense, almost summery, blue.  Soon, a cloud appears in the form of a border guard, with a nasty scowl on her face, and an attitude the size of Texas. 
"What's your destination?" 
Me: "I'm going to Tonawanda to see a show". 
Border b---ch: "What kind of show?". 
Me: "A musical show, all singing". 
Border B---ch: "Talk to me, I need to know what you mean". 
Me: (Thinking, Huh?)  "It's a concert of barbershop singing, a couple of choruses - like choirs - and a few quartets".  (Thinking - How friggin' dangerous does this sound?)
B.B.: "Are you meeting anyone there?" (scowl, sneer)
Me: "Yes, I hope to meet some friends".
B.B.: "How do you know them?"  (translation, why on earth would an American citizen associate with a dumb Canuck?)
Me:  (Thinking, should I tell her that I met them in a Mexican jail?  Probably not).  "I met them through singing".
B.B.: "So you sing?"
Me: "yes"
B.B.: "Are you performing this afternoon?"  (sneer, accusatory tone, as though a Canadian singing on an American stage was a threat to the American way of life)
Me: (laughing heartily) "No, I'm not".
B.B.: "Have a nice day". 
Me: (thinking - ya right, you just spoiled it.  B---ch).

Off I go, finding the venue (a grade school) easily, with just enough time to get a seat, and scan the room for familiar faces (none really, but that's ok).  The bright spot of the show is actually not the star performers/hostesses (NFCA - which will only mean something to my readers that are members of Harmony Inc.).  It is the Senior Men's championship quartet, hot off the presses.  Literally bright (cherry red suits, with cherry red and white wing-tip shoes.  They still make wing-tip shoes?  Yikes!).  Was it worth the trip?  Well, not really this distance, no.  But it got me out of the house to do something besides spend money. 

So, off I go back home.  This time, the border crossing was amazingly friendly. 
Border Boy:  "What was the purpose of your trip ma'am?"
Me: "I went to see a show of barbershop singing" (learning to phrase it less suspiciously)
BB: "Oh, that sounds interesting, did you enjoy it?"
Me: "Yes I did, thanks".
BB:  "Do you have any thing to declare, alcohol or tobacco?"
Me: "No, I don't".
BB:  "Have a nice day".
Me: "Thanks, you too".

(And they say America is the greatest country in the world?   Certainly not if measured by the first face that visitors see).

And the sun shone on...