Mr. Chair

What in the world is going on in this photo that is inspiring a blog, you ask? Here's the deal: While I try not to blog about specific people, sometimes, one just jumps out you, and you can't help but make fun. Like who can forget The Guy.

So today we were at the Irish Festival, and John sees a guy who looks familiar (that would be the dark haired guy with glasses, seated at center). John can't place him at first, but then sees him walking around the Festival, carrying that wicker-ish patio chair you see in the photo.

A-HA! The chair put it all into context- this guy, we'll call him Mr. Chair, had come to one of John's drumming classes at a lady's house- and he brought with him . . . The Chair. John didn't make much of it, at the time, but seeing the guy now schlepping around this cumbersome chair at a big, crowded, rainy festival, and NOT SITTING IN IT, was just too weird. It was like a security blanket. And you KNOW I begged John to let me go sit in it, if not move it away while they weren't looking.

I know, I know, you are saying I'm cruel and lack sympathy, that it is for his wife's (unknown) medical condition (she is not in the photo, but looked healthy to us). But if she needs to sit down, can't she get a folding chair? or one of those tripod stools that people bring to watch golf tournaments? This was a piece of high quality patio furniture. And it is clunky. Believe me, there was nothing so cool about the Irish Festival that would make it worth the hassle of dragging around 25 pounds of . . . chair. We'll keep our eye out for Mr. Chair now, though. It's a small town. Maybe we'll see him at the gym. With his chair.