Debbie and I drove north on Monday when the clouds were finally lifting after several days of showers. I wanted to see the Mission Mountains, and she was happy to take the drive. On the way up the clouds were still low enough to cover the peaks. We continued on to Flathead Lake, stopping at the lakeside in Polson to have some fruit and ice tea. The air was still cool, but the sun felt great. Seagulls were very interested in what we were eating, but abandoned us for other lunchers after it became obvious to them that we were not dropping any treats. We headed back down to Missoula after a bit, and stopped at the Ninepipes Reservoir to take some photos. No breeze was blowing, and the surface of the water shone blue, reflecting sky and framing dry stalks of teasels. The Missions rise straight up from the plain, unbelievably beautiful. I hadn't made the trip north of Missoula since some time around 1983, almost 30 years ago. I shouldn't have waited so long before I saw them again, but the mountains waited for me, a small tic of time in their lifespan. Monday night at 10pm I went to VFW in Missoula to take in their open mic, which couldn't start until the Bingo game was over. It was me and two other performers, one of whom was the host. My cousins, cousin's spouses and friends provided over half the audience. I took the first spot, and played for about half an hour, picking songs that I thought would go over well with the bar crowd. We all had a great time, and even people I was not related to gave me good applause.
