searching for hootie

Making stuff for shows has been an interesting adventure, to say the least. Had I not taken the plunge, I would have never met my friend Robin, and had I not met my friend Robin, I would have never been doing a show in the studio of a marsh front home this past weekend, standing on the same street as lives Hootie himself, former pop star turned country singer Darius Rucker. Sounds almost glamorous, doesn't it? But I should also mention that had I not taken the plunge, had I not chosen to do this show, I also would not have been I have been sleeping in a chilly RV that hadn't been aired out in weeks, awakened in the middle of the night by the scratching noises of a mysterious animal that sounded to be a mere and alarming two feet from my head. All just a day in the life, really.

I've learned over the years that sometimes it's best to let go of life's steering wheel and see where it takes me. Most of the time, it all works out, and because of that I can hardly complain when I am greeted by some nocturnal creature who would probably be just as afraid of me as I would be of him. I never saw what it was scratching away in the middle of the night, just as I never met Hootie. But just as Baxter lives to hunt another day, so must I walk in my valley of fabric, in search of hooties.