In my write mind...

I've got a million stories here. OK, well, maybe not an actual million. Could be more. Could be less. Who knows? Oh, well, I know that there's someone out there who knows, or at least thinks he does... someone who's good with numbers and such. But that's not me. I know, I know. A lot of people say they aren't good with numbers. And what they mean is that they can't do math. But I'm not like that. Math is good and generally quite useful. I don't have any kind of particular phobia or whatever with math and all its ramifications. Math is fine. It's the counting that's the problem for me. (OK, well, there was that one time, the first day of my college calculus class, when the graduate teaching assistant said that if he took a step toward the wall that covered half the distance between where he was and the wall, and then another step that was half of the remaining distance, and then halved the distance again and so on and so on, then he would never reach the wall.... Let's just say that I took one look at his size 13 clodhoppers and concluded that he was a bit overly optimistic of his ability to walk a fine line. But that's not really what this is all about now, is it?) Anyway, as I was saying, I've got nothing against numbers, per se. It's just that I can't, for the life of me, remember them. I punch in my zip code when I'm trying to key my lunch account code. Forget telling me your phone number. Birthdays I can generally do, cause there's only so many possibilities for those, after all, but street addresses? Nope. I'm quite certain you'll have to tell me more than once. Or better yet, write it down. You know how they always wanna give you some sort of confirmation number over the phone for stuff? Ha. Expect me to remember that? It'd be more useful to expect me to remember all the words to American Pie. (Actually, I kinda do remember all the words to that song, but then again, those aren't numbers now, are they?) Anyway, so, yeah. A million stories? Who the hell knows? Certainly not me.

But here we go, the first one. It's short, so don't worry.... How the hell did this blog get this crazy name?

Well, I'm a band geek. More accurately, I suppose, I'm a former band geek. Marching band, starting in 7th grade and going all the way through college. (Auburn University in the 70s... 5 football seasons and not one bowl game. How's that for numbers?) Anyway, the title, if you know anything about marching bands, stems from that. More specifically, it stems from my brother - Rupert's his name and I shall be telling you stories of him soon, I'm sure - giving me a journal for my birthday one year. He had inserted a page in the front with suggested titles. Most of them I don't remember but one stuck.... You guessed it.