It’s been a few days since the Telluride Bluegrass Festival in Colorado ended. And I’m still riding the high on that experience, all while I sit here and do my laundry in West Waynesville, the air-conditioning of the establishment a reprieve from the intense heat and humidity this week. 

Hello from 34,000 feet. I’m currently on a United Express flight from Asheville to Denver, Colorado. Probably somewhere over Kansas at the moment. Who knows? What awaits me is another adventure, this time to the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. My first time there. Lifelong dream. 

It happened to me, again. Somebody stole my laundry. All of it. And it wasn’t even in the dryer yet. They ran out the door of my neighborhood laundromat in downtown Waynesville with two loads of wet clothes, never to be seen from or worn out and about one more time. 

It’s 12:23 a.m. and I can hear the tires from sporadic cars splashing through small puddles on nearby Walnut Street in downtown Waynesville. They say a big rainstorm is coming later today. For now, it’s another pull from the lukewarm Coors Light can.

Wednesday. Late morning. Another bluebird sky day here in the mountains of Western North Carolina. Warm rays of sunshine greeted my face when I stepped off the porch of my humble abode apartment in downtown Waynesville. Put the truck in drive and begin the day. 

It was one of those moments that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

A moment just to myself, where when the moment was unfolding in real time, you feel an immediate and deep gratitude for, this intrinsic connection to the universe. 

As I was cracking the third of four eggs into the bowl to then scramble the yolks, the chorus of John Prine’s seminal 1971 number “Spanish Pipedream” echoed throughout the room. I decided then and there that to make breakfast with Mr. Prine playing in the background is the only way to start your day. 

Early Tuesday morning. Sitting in the dentist chair, I stared blankly out onto the parking lot, only to then notice the bustling traffic on nearby U.S. 276. It was at that moment when the nice dental hygienist asked if a date and time in mid-September 2025 would be ideal for my next teeth cleaning.  

When it comes to the vast, vibrant landscape of American blues guitarists, few six-string aces have had as varied and as illustrious a career over the last 30 years as that of Jimmy Vivino. 

Yesterday was a rough one. Real rough. She moved out the last of her things from my apartment, formerly “our apartment.” She’d already signed a lease for a new spot across town. And she seemed genuinely excited to see what this next chapter of her life will look like in the coming weeks, months and years.