Well, maybe I am. Just a little, though.

OK, so J over at the littlestpea and I have been having this discussion sort of thing about age. She insists that I am of a generation before hers, I have been insisting that we are just at different ends of the same generation. She is 31, I am 43.

So today I was helping some friends by painting the doors to the woodworking shop. There was an old radio on the windowsill, so I turned it on just to have some background noise. It was tuned to AM 1370 WDEA in Ellsworth, what is called a "nostalgia" station, meaning it played stuff my dad (66 years old) and my step mother (55) listened to when I was a kid and they thought music had just recently gone straight into the crapper. I heard some very old stuff by the Platters (ok, so there is no real new stuff by the Platters, but you get my drift) and some gentle rock 60s and 70s stuff, god help me, there was even a Barry Manilow, a John Denver and Anne Murray and Barbara Striesand. I even enjoyed songs by both Sinatras, and one of the other guys from the Rat Pack. Can't think of his name now, but it wasn't Dean Martin - it was one of the other guys. Not Sammy, either. Anyway. That's not the point I was getting to here.

The worst part of this little trip down memory lane?

I knew every word of every song. No exceptions. All of them. Even the Barry Manilow. Even the John Denver. Even The Drifters.

It is official. I am old. The music was not mine, it was my parents' but I still knew it. J had never heard Melissa Etheridge's first hit single. OK, J. You're off the hook. We are of two very, VERY different generations.

Mission Accomplished!

Uf-da.

The Screen Porch is DONE. The cottage it is attached to is not square, level, plumb or straight, so the pressure was not high for my portion, but it did not make it any easier to erect. The roof shingles were old and rotted in some places, so putting the flashing in was a challenge, but with enough caulk and spit, I think it will keep mother nature from getting in. Through the roof anyway. Through the screens, there isn't much I can do about that.

It will be good to spend a couple days just doing physical work that does not involve quite so much heavy thinking and figuring out. I am cleaning out a basement this week, and it will be a nice change. Yes, the work will be heavier than what I have been doing, but it will tax my brain less, and after creating the porch from scratch with no plans but an idea in my head, this will be nice.

There is talk of a Ferron concert in Bar Harbor next week. I think we might go to it. I think it might be required as a lesbian to go. I have seen Melissa Etheridge (several times) Melissa Ferrick (once) and the usual assortment of angry lesbians with guitars, plus Christine Lavin, Cheryl Wheeler and a bunch of other folkies, but somehow I have never seen Ferron. Or Ani DeFranco. Probably have to do that before I die. I saw Joan Armatrading once. Good God. That was amazing. Abso-fucking-lutely amazing. And then there was Joan Baez, the Indigo Girls (who opened for Joan) Tracy Chapman, Dar Williams (who also opened for Joan) and a bunch of others through the years.

It's been a while since I have been to a concert. Perhaps we should go just for that reason alone. Besides, it might be fun.

Not much to talk about today. Somehow that feels good. I shall save the heavy thinking for later. For now, I simply have to take out the trash.