Thursday night, Misti and I went to Palo Alto to meet up with the guy who was supposed to buy my saxophone. I'd talked to him on the phone in the morning, and he suddenly sounded less interested than he had in email. He said he'd still like to see it, though, so the plan was: 1) show him the sax, 2) if he wanted it, he'd make a Paypal payment, then 3) another day the following week, I'd get the sax to him. It all sounded kind of complicated and I almost backed out, but something told me I should go. I wasn't sure why, but hey, my mom taught me from a very early age to listen to those inner instincts. So we decided to just go for it.

Before we left Misti's place, I played the saxophone in the parking lot, to show her what it sounded like. She seemed to get a real kick out of it - the beauty and shine of the horn itself, the sound, the sheer volume of the notes coming out of it. I get a kick out of it, too. Actually, it sounded half-decent when I played, and a part of me suddenly wanted to keep it. (The next day, my jaw was popping like nobody's business, and I knew for sure that I needed to sell it.)

So I drove and drove, while Misti and I talked up a storm, sharing all kinds of life stories while listening to a mixture of rain pattering on the windshield and Bare Naked Ladies seeping softly from the speakers. By the time we were lost enough to call the restaurant, we were only minutes from being considered officially late. A few turns later, I laughed and said, "This isn't going to happen tonight. Forget it." We were already late, the dude's concert had already begun, and I know that if I were playing a jazz set, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be interrupted. So I proposed the idea of dinner instead, and Misti navigated us to a near-by location of Una Mas, where we had some tasty food. Mmm, Thai Chicken burrito...

On the way home, Misti and I got a chance to drive through some hail! I haven't done that since I lived in Texas!! It was pretty crazy. Other than hail and scary pounding rain, the drive home was excellent -- just as chatty as the drive down and wholly enjoyable.

Something tells me that that feeling I had compelling me to go to Palo Alto wasn't about saxophone guy at all, but rather a chance to spend a fun night with a great friend. Well hey, if my intuition is just trying to get me to have fun, I certainly won't object!

Oh, guess what else happened on Thursday? I fulfilled my jury duty responsibilities without ever even having to leave my house! I just called the number and it named my group and said, "Your jury services are complete. You are no longer required to call or visit our office." Well, okay then. That's my kind of jury duty!

Friday, I went ahead and talked to the next guy in the line of people interested in my saxophone. Truthfully, there were two people in second place. There were two things that differentiated them from one another:

1) One guy emailed me constantly telling me very specific times he could get together (5:15 on Saturday!), while always urgently asking for directions to my house. He might be perfectly nice, but he freaked me out just a little.

2) The other guy offered me $100 more.

So I talked to guy #2 and met up with him Saturday morning. Joe came with me, but sat off to the side to let me deal with the sale myself. P. seemed like a nice guy, I thought. He shook my hand and smiled a lot. He meticulously looked at every square inch of the horn before asking if he could play it. He'd brought his own mouthpiece, a beautiful golden one, with a reed already set inside. He began to play, tentatively at first. In those first few notes, my stomach sank a little as I realized he already plays better than I think I've ever played. It was nice to hear such beautiful sounds coming out of my saxophone, though. It's been a long time since I played well enough to enjoy hearing the notes I brought out of it. Then P.'s confidence must have kicked in a bit. He played louder, then played a few jazz runs. I couldn't help smiling from ear to ear while he played. I wasn't the only one. Other passersby looked over and smiled, too, as they headed past us on the way to their next shopping destinations. "Wow," I said. "You're so much better than me! You sound great!" We both laughed, and he thanked me.

P. sat down and looked at it some more. He discovered some scratches I'd forgotten about, and a missing Yamaha logo button on the neck. Then he said, "But I'm still really interested." Then he made me an offer, and I went ahead and accepted it. He handed me an envelope with the cash inside and waited patiently while I counted it all. Then we exchanged thank-yous. "Hey, take care of her, okay?" I said. "I really hope you enjoy it!"

"Oh, I will!" he said. "Thank you! Nice meeting you both!"

Joe and I waved and walked slowly away to get some lunch. "That part of my life is officially over now," I said to him, a little sadly. "I'm no longer a saxophone player."

"Well, that's not true," Joe said. "You just don't own a saxophone anymore. You can still be a saxophone player later, if you want." Joe is so cool.

For a little while, I felt bummed that I didn't ask for more money for the horn. It was fair, though, really. I got just under half of what I paid for it new, and it's nine years old. And as Misti pointed out, this guy's going to cherish it and play it often. My saxophone is in good hands now, getting to live the life I envisioned for it, and I think that's really cool.