|A look at the songs that have shaped|
my life and ended up on my devices.
On the jukebox, Traffic's trippy "The Low Spark Of High-Heeled Boys" floats into the air.
It fits my mood perfectly as I munch down my cheese-and-sausage pie -- introspective, drawn-out and melodic. I'm in no particular rush on this day, one day before the Highland Games, exploring downtown Flagstaff and the various shops, chilling out in the mountain air before kilting up tomorrow. I would love it to rain, but the skies don't want to do much. The mountains are getting socked. We're getting what's left over.
As long as the storms don't drown me while I'm driving, I'm fine with it. I know better than to go through high water. I've watched too many people try to do that on the news. It's not really the monsoon until an idiot thinks they can muscle through a wash.
The storm moves off and avoids downtown. We will get no deluge on this day. But it's a lot cooler, a lot less humid, and I'm ready to get back out into the high country once more.