A week and a half ago, I went into a music store here in town, and priced out what it would take to get set up with an electric guitar. I’ve been thinking about this almost daily for months. The oddest thing was that playing guitar never really struck my interest until this past year. Several of my friends and colleagues play, and I love good guitar-heavy rock songs, but playing myself? Yeah, I must have gotten bitten by something.
After finding a combination of guitar and amp that I liked (along with a few other necessities), I sat on it for a few more days. Then last Saturday, I went back and purchased everything. With just the tiniest bit of sadness, I wasn’t able to bring the guitar itself home right away. The store only had a red version of the model I wanted, and I wanted a blue if they had one available. He checked their other stores around the state, and found a blue one. I asked when I he could get it in, and he said Friday. So, I decided that I could wait for few more days. As it turns out, not having the guitar this past week was a good thing – work and family activities went crazy for a few days, and most of the week was spent dragging myself to bed about 10:30 without really having time to do much of anything.
The store called yesterday to tell me had arrived, and so after work I drove down to pick it up. And I was a little kid again, barely containing my inner-squee! Here’s my new toy, a Fender Stratocaster 50:
Of course, when I arrived home it was like I had a new puppy. Everyone wanted to see what was in the box, and everyone wanted to play with it. Lucy, just coming off of a cold, was the most demanding and least patient, though. She insisted on getting her guitar to play (since Katherine and I both got string instruments this year – a violin and now the guitar – we preemptively bought Lucy a guitar a couple of months ago, to try to head off the jealousy). And then of course, she hands her guitar to me and says, “Daddy, you can play my guitar, and I’ll play yours!” And that’s just what we did.
Lucy on the electric and Dad on the badly-out-of-tune acoustic sounds about as pleasing as you might think, especially considering neither of us have any idea what we’re doing. But hey, we at least LOOK cool doing it.
At any rate, after the girls went to bed, I sat down in the basement and proceeded to try to learn how to tune mine. After a half an hour, I think I managed it. My first success. Then I felt like pressing my luck, and tried to play a couple of chords.
Um, yeah, “Misty Mountain Hop” is going to take a while.