The Fiance has a thing for banjos. Always has. I associate such things with frightening people that live in the hills and make strangers squeal like pigs. This is ridiculous, I know, but there's just nothing sophisticated about an instrument that inspired countless hours of Hee Haw proclamations like, "I'm a pickin' and I'm a grinnin." Doo, dee, doo, doo, doo, doo, doot, doo, doo. Not a refined instrument. Last night a very dear friend showed him how to play a bit. And he was picking it up pretty quickly! Instead of being happy for him and enjoying his joy, all I could think was, "There's going to be one of these in my house soon. I just know it." He was playing the friend's "Good Time Special" banjo (seriously, that's it's name; just sounds like something designed solely for The Country Bear Jamboree) and they decided his would be the Goodwin Special and his surname made it destiny for him to be a picker.
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