Chalk Up Another One and Tell the Band to Keep On Playing.

Tough business being a moving target- knowing that driving down the road, at any minute, a cop or statey could pull you over. Your only crime? Driving a fancy, black sportscar. The risk only amplified, driving through the country and the lush hills of upstate New York. No good. I didn't have these problems in the Blazer and if anything, there was the threat of being pulled over because the ol' girl sounded more like a motor boat than a clunky old SUV.

Things have changed.

That sporty '08 Corrola is just begging to be pulled over. It's a real emotional Corrola-coaster.

But the ladyfriend and I made it to Cooperstown safely, with no visits from Johnny Law and many nice conversations had at normal volume levels- a nice departure from the Great Adventures of Kimalicious and Ryno earlier in the summer where we were constantly drowned out by the loud droning of the Blazer. The quiet made the new Spouse album sound that much better the louder we played it.

This weekend in Cooperstown, it was how I remember summer to supposed to be- sunny and in the mid-seventies. At night it was a little cool with a soft breeze in the air, with the only noise coming from the wedding party the night before the ceremony, making their way home from one of the two bars in town. You can't kick us out. We're two-thirds of the rooms! Although in a town like Cooperstown, surrounded by towering and rolling hills- there is always the looming threat of vigilante justice. The only difference would be the baseball bats they'd be wielding.

They would no doubt to be autographed.

And vintage.

Cooperstown is less of a town and more of a Main Street with a few branches. The houses are large, wooden, and interestingly old-school. It's a summer community constructed by well-to-do Victorians and advanced by baseball-loving junkies and their patient significant others. Sitting in the center of the town in a under-stated, brick building is the Baseball Hall of Fame- surrounded by eight to ten stores over-flowing with baseball memorabilia. How many Yankees' jerseys can one dude buy? I overheard one lunatic stuck between two and three.

Two or three too many for this Red Sox fan.

Then we got to see Dave and Heather get married in an amazingly genuine ceremony right on the lake. I love when weather works out for weddings and I loved the lack of severe humidity; this being the first wedding of the summer where I wasn't steadily sweating from the get go. The black suit, the one I bought with help from Gram, isn't possibly the best suit for summer weddings in the sweltering Mid-Atlantic. But it's my suit and it'll do. And we saw two college friends get married- a ceremonial & well-dressed twofer. A few gin & tonics, some great food, excellent guitar playing and one last slow dance with the ladyfriend to some good ol' country music before calling it a night.

Back to it now, back to sweaty Philly where apparently it's illegal for the temperature to dip below 90 degrees. It's the summer of multiple t-shirts and re-application of deodorant. But it's also the summer of change and bringing it all together, bringing it all home to the new home with the new lady and the new life that comes with it. It's the summer of lovely dinners at the kitchen table, holding hands because it's awesome, tingles and jingles, and huggles and cuddles.

This weekend was yet another fun weekend in an all around fun summer. I won't be sad when it's over, just incredibly happy that it happened.

All the best to the Robinsons and all the best to Cooperstown.

Go Red Sox.

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