Tuesday Nights at Durty Nellie’s

I was walking on the treadmill tonight.   And though I’m not suppose to “run” until the first of the year, I did try to jog a bit on the TM.  What I did didn’t really qualify as running so I do not feel I defied any doctor or therapist orders.

None of that has anything to do with what I was going to write about.

But it’s where I was thinking about something.   I was having a memory moment while treadmilling.   Which is often the only way to get through treadmilling.

The memory?

Of a group of friends who have gathered.  For years.  On Tuesday’s.   To socialize.   And sing.   And they share that with total strangers.

We received that gift one night.

And I only shared it that one night.   But I miss it.

As I trudged along in the basement in the dim light with my MP3 player skipping along from song to song I realized I wasn’t even listening to the music I was skipping through.   Nothing was hitting my mood.   So instead I just played that night in my head.

So instead of treadmilling I spent a night in Ireland.  In the dimness of the pub.   Listening to a group of friends sing along.   Singing under my breath a little.  Careful not to sing loud enough to be heard.   That would not have been pretty.   I had a grand evening.   That night, and thanks to that night, for a few minutes on the treadmill.

A great few moments of joy.