Being in a band on tour is a lot like golf. Golf is an insidious game. When you play a round of golf, you hit the ball approximately one hundred and twenty times in about seventy five different directions, cursing and swearing that you will sell your clubs and never play again… and then the last couple of shots are amazing. The ball flies straight and true to the hole and you start making plans to join the tour and make millions. Suddenly it was all worth it and you can’t wait to do it again. That’s what tours are like.

You start to get exhausted about halfway though… then by the end you are at a level of tired and cranky you did not know existed. You can’t wait for it to be over so you can go home. Then something wonderful happens… the last couple of shows… your balls go straight and true… and you can’t wait to go home, pet your dog… and go back out on the road and do it all again!

All the no-sleep nights on the bus suddenly become great late night bull sessions with the band… All the bad hotel rooms suddenly become suites at the George IV in Paris (oh, I’ve been around!). Suddenly all the bad food becomes… well, actually we LIKE bad food on the road so the goat meat enchiladas STAY goat meat enchiladas. just MORE of them.

We had two shows left.  We are headed home on Saturday after a few weeks on the road and we are in that zone where we are all as sensitive as little shaved kittens. Looking the wrong way at someone can get you a severe tongue lashing. Now certain times on the road musicians have been known to pay good money for a tongue lashing but that is a different use of the phrase. A poorly chosen adjective can pull a tour bus to the side of the highway faster than the State Police after a Willie Nelson concert.

We played an outdoor concert in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Six thousand people. Totally screaming and digging our rockosity. It made me suddenly wish this tour was never going to end. What? Go home and not sing “Feelin Brave” every night? Who needs your own bed when you can lie on a hotel mattress and have the air conditioner blow directly on you! (if I seem to complain a lot about hotels it is simply because they have suddenly become a dominant part of my life.)

We will be home for about a week. No blogs. Wean yourselves off them very slowly and carefully… like ambien. Stopping reading about us too suddenly can lead to depression and night sweats. (Believe me…I know about night sweats. I sleep in the bunk under our drummer) Perhaps go back and re-read old blogs and pretend that we are still in Northern California working our way East. We play tonight in Minneapolis in a theater (which has wonderful potential for shenanigans and/or hijinks) and then Georgia and I bid adieu to the band, the bus, Kenny and… (I think I’ll miss YOU most of all, Scarecrow!) you… the 17 people that read and give a rodential posterior about our adventures!

I’ll let you know how tonight goes but after that… take up knitting or collaging or something to fill the awful void where Blue Sky Riders used to be.

Till September.