"I'm bored," he says and grabs his guitar. I sip quietly on my Mimosa (going with our dinner themed dinner) and curl my feet under me, settling down in a comfortable spot in the couch. I listen to him play and sing a random selection of songs; often replaying several chords over and over until he has them just right--they sounded right the first time, but I'm not even which song he's on now. The dog runs back and forth between the two of us with a dozen socks in her mouth (why the hell won't she play with anything besides MY socks?? It's been this way for four years and yet I still wonder). She's not sure what to do, she wants to give John her socks to throw, running close to him with them and then trotting away while looking back at him. She seems in awe of him. She's not alone in this. The guitar isn't even his intrument of choice...it's just "something he picked up on his own," he usually says in apologetic way, to somehow explain why he seemlessly moves from one song to another, figuring out chords in his head. I've never quite understood the apologetic undertone to be honest, I think he's pretty amazing.

He should be bored more often.