Mood: Memsical: when musical memories preoccupy you
Monday’s been foisted on us and annointed as April 15, 2024.
This is Tax Day in America for some. Forges recall of past Tax Days for me, watching people get in line to mail it at the post office. There’d be lines. Sometimes, it was a line of cars as the PO set up to take them in and stamp the date. On and on the cars came as clocks approached midnight. Other times found people in line, snaking out of the PO’s customer service section, spilling out of the building and onto the sidewalk. Surreal scenes.
That’s less likely these days. I s’pose those folks are instead online somewhere, trying to get their forms posted and accepted.
Spring with wintry samples haunt Ashlandia today. It’s a dry, cloudy day. Our temp floats around 50 F. 60 F might be possible. It’s the air that brings up winter to my senses. Just smelled like winter this morning. I half-expected flurries to drizzle down around my head. Getting out where I could see the mountains, I scanned for white patches and tops. None were there. Guess it was all in my noggin.
Speaking of noggin, The Neurons cranked up Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble in the morning mental music stream (Trademark taketh away). The song was an instrumental called “Scuttle Buttin”. It amused me to little end that my wife suddenly became an SRV fan and a blues fan about 35 years ago. She was mostly a pop/dance person before that, although she gravitated toward female vocalists. She enjoyed Etta, Bonnie Raitt, Aretha. Suddenly, about a year before SRV’s death in a helicopter accident, he enthralled her.
I didn’t mind, mind you. I was always a rock and blues guy, oriented toward lead guitars and bent notes. Stevie delivered these and more. Once more, I find gratitude that we have technology that helps us relive our past.
Stay strong, be positive, and Vote Blue. I’m coffee’d up, and ready to rock. Here’s Stevie, burning up that guitar. Cheers
Today is Sunday, 4/14/2024. I’m late to the show. A friend needed some help, so the day was given over to that. She’s advanced in age. Neither she nor her husband can drive any longer so we took her shopping up the road in Medford. And since it was a long day, we stopped and ate out. Just soup and sandwiches.
Soup and sandwiches were perfect for this April weekend. Rain was Sunday’s main course. Temperatures hung around in the low fifties as the rain practiced speeding up and slowing down. It’s only now, as we cruise toward sunset, that the sun made a cameo, slipping out of the clouds’ protection to say hello before it says good night.
Being with my wife and our friend, listening to them chatting about friends inspired The Neurons. They quickly planted “With A Little Help from My Friends” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark helped). Yes, it was morning. We left the house at 9:30 AM and returned about 4 PM.
Although the song is a Beatle tune, I’ve always favored Joe Cocker’s cover. Coming out in 1968, he brings such soul and energy to it. Countering Cocker’s raw vocal energy are female backup singers pitching soft, precisely enunciated verses. Hammering away on drums is B.J. Wilson of Procol Harum. Searing along with the vocals is Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin on lead guitar. Tommy Eyre offers that exquisite organ opening, gently mesmerizing but cajoling us on into a higher state. Sweet.
I was twelve when the song was released. Hearing it on my AM clock radio, the song cemented my sense of what I like in rock, and how rock carried me. Hope that makes sense.
Stay positive, be strong, Vote Blue. Hope you enjoy this music. I’ve had a day of coffee, thanks. Here’s the music.
Saturday, April 13, 2024, has emerged through timid sunshine and mild, sporadic showers. 51 F degrees now, the thermometer’s advance will end somewhere around 60 F. That’s life in April.
The cats and I were spoiled by that burst of warm sunshine, though. We want it, we cry. Papi the ginger warrior is particularly vocal about it. “Screw this wet stuff,” he cries. “Give me the shine.”
Tucker has magnificently recovered from his surgery. While still an old boy, north of 14 years old, we believe, his personality has re-asserted itself after bearing pain for several years. I’m sorry I didn’t help him sooner but I was really leery about having all of his teeth removed.
I’m feeling Saturitis today. It’s a blend of it being Saturday and the need/desire to get some work done that is also conflicting with the idea that it’s Saturday, let’s do something fun! Undermining the Saturitis mood is the weather, which doesn’t seem overly conducive to either end of the Saturitis spectrum.
Mom seems to be doing better. Hospitalized, enduring pain and discomfort, going through physical therapy. She said she’s there for another ten to fourteen days. Also said she’s doing alright. “The food is terrific.” That’s always welcomed. She had meatloaf with peas for lunch with banana cream pie for dessert.
An odd song was summoned to the morning mental music stream (Trademark showing) today. The Neurons somehow pulled up “Enola Gay” by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD).
This song was released in 1980. It’s about the Enola Gay, the American B29 Superfortress which dropped the atomic bomb, called ‘Little Boy’, on Hiroshima, Japan, in August, 1945.
I didn’t learn about the song until I was helping my wife with a Hiroshima/Nagasaki vigil she was setting up in conjunction with WILPF – Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom – around 2006. She asked to help brainstorm some music. I came across the anti-war song, “Enola Gay”. The techno-pop tune was rejected as too silly and lost to the standard American anti-war and pro-peace pop/rock offerings.
I don’t have good insights into why The Neurons brought “Enola Gay” forward today. Maybe they just confused April with August. Hard to say with them.
Okay, stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue. Coffee has found its way into my body. Here’s the music. Please give it a chance. Cheers
Thursday arrives with a whisper so soft, most miss it. It’s April 11, 2024.
Spring outside pulls me in. 51 F degrees. Still wind and expansive sunshine. The air is expected to bring temperatures in the low 70s.
Sounds of the city travel through the yard. Cars on the roads. A train warning of its advance. Hammering and sawing. No voices except crows, robins, and sparrows passing on observations. The cats listen. They don’t reveal what they’re thinking.
OJ Simpson passed from cancer, Alexa tells me when I ask her about why she’s lit green. My wife says, I don’t know what to think about that.
Truly. Simpson was once an American hero on the gridiron. First in college, then in the NFL, if those things matter to you. Otherwise, he was just another citizen. Then came the murders, the trial, the riots, the questions. It all hangs over us like a pause in existence.
In personal news, Mom is still coping at the hospital. The place was packed. After spending most of the day in a bed in a hallway, she was moved into an ER space for the night.
She’s being transferred today. They’re going to put her into rehab and work on her balance and mobility. She’s grumbling about it. A creature of habits, she gets uncomfortable being wrenched from her ruts. I know because I’m much like her.
As far as the fever and pain over the last several days, the med staff is postulating that this is just the after effects of her abdominal surgery. The surgery was five days ago, so my little sister on the spot has flagged it as dubious. But, that’s how it’ll be treated, going forward.
Thinking about our small town’s sounds later in the morning has The Neurons summoning songs about cities. Stevie Wonder’s music about living in the city whispers through the morning mental music stream (Trademark under construction). Then comes Billy Joel. 1982 “Allentown”.
Yes, more it’s more fitting. Billy Joel’s song was about hopes and changes. Substitute America for Allentown. Change some other words and you have a new anthem for the U.S.
“Well, we’re living here in the USA.
“And the way it’s changing is hard to say.
“Standing in lines, watching our phones.”
But the song’s real heart for me comes later when he addresses the promises made or implied by teachers that we would succeed and advance, “if we worked hard, if we behaved.” The promise was hijacked. I put it on corporate greed, but that’s fueled by individual greed, selfishness, and now, by a GOP that is trying hard to go back in time as a way forward.
Sorry, boys, but there’s not a DeLorean big enough to fit all of us to take us back in time and change now. The vast majority of us know that. We’re moved on. We’re moving forward, and we’re going to keep moving forward.
I don’t think of everything in terms of politics, BTW. May seem like it’s so but it’s more that this seems like a politically charged period for me and many others. I also look back through the lens of history to see what changed, how it changed, and what did not.
Stay positive, despite what has happened so far. The promises were made or implied that we’re part of a grand experiment in the US, creating a government by the people, for the people. It’s a work in progress. Other nations are doing it as well, and many have become better at it than we are now.
I’ve already boarded the coffee train. Here’s the music. Cheers
Our intrepid band of three hundred million plus call Earthlings or Terrans come at last to the day noted as Tuesday, April 9, 2024. Once a date studied by prophets and feared by rulers, the reasons for that have been lost. Only one man knows the truth, but he’s been frozen and forgotten. And so we, the survivors, skip through this day not knowing its significance.
It’s sunny in Ashlandia. The sky’s blueness is marred by some lazy stray clouds hanging above the valley’s high edges, as though spying for an enemy ruler. Current temperature is in the upper 50s F. We’re shimmying toward the upper 60s. This is a fine example of how spring should appear in the middle of the season in Aslandia.
My wife and I have been involved in a jigsaw puzzle. She picked it up at the library of things last Friday. We began working on it that day.
It’s a Ravensburger, which is my favorite. Ravensburger puzzles have solid pieces which fit together well, and vibrant colors. This one is a tableau of a beach house living room looking out over the sea. A small dog rests on his bed in the foreground, looking back at you. His orange toy is on the bed beside him.
A coffee table dominates the center. It sits on a striped rug on a hardwood floor. Sharing its surface top is a tray of food and wine, a long scarf colorful with sea creatures and flowing aquas, purples, oranges, and blues, a gold-rimmed bowl of shells and starfish, and a plate of food. Sea foam green easy chairs and sofa are arranged on either side of the table. Past the table are open sliding doors leading to a deck.
Beyond the deck is the sand and churning waves. Further out are sailing vessels and a coastguard ship. Osprey and gulls wheel through light clouds and blue skies.
I’d love to live in that place. Wish I was there now, listening to the ocean and reading a book. Small stacks of books are on the sofa and the coffee table’s lower shelf.
The puzzle is coming together fast. We are now about 85% finished. Sky and sea remain, along with the birds.
It wasn’t that way yesterday morning. Back then, we had one edge piece missing. The coffee table was almost complete, and the dog and several other areas were completed. I’d say it was thirty percent done.
I was focused on that missing edge piece. My obsessiveness had kicked in. I hadn’t plan to work on that puzzle at the point in the day. It was mid-morning and I had things to do. But I sure wanted to find that missing piece.
Going through the pieces, I began asking deities and fates for help. None came but The Neurons, taking up my issue, began an ABBA song: SOS from 1975 began playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking).
I found an American Bandstand episode with Dick Clark and ABBA on the net. Seeing Bandstand shook up memories like they were in a snow globe. Many teenagers and pre-teens hustled into a television’s presence to see the show in the 1960s. I never became deeply into it, but my older sister surely was. ABBA wasn’t a group I followed. I didn’t aspire to their style. But I respected their talents and their drive to succeed. There they were, doing what they’d set out to do. Congrats to them. I knew about them because AM radio broadcast their music. Then there were the friends who were so into them, too…
By the way, I didn’t find the missing piece and left for the coffee shop. My wife returned from her exercise class and answered the call, finding the missing piece. She’s my hero.
Stay positive, persevere, and Vote Blue this November. Coffee is being actively consumed in parallel to my typing. Hope you have the kind of day you wanted when you awoke this morning. Here’s the music.
Another spring day of entangled weather. Descending clouds obscure the western ridges’ face with rain threats. Sunlight powers through in the east and attempts to buck the temperatures up. Wind sometimes gambols like a newborn foal.
Temperatures rose to 50 F from 38 F but have now slipped back to 48 F. 55 F is as how as we expect thermometers to climb around most of Ashlandia.
Today is April 7, 2024.
Papi, my lean, lanky ginger floof, played nine solid innings of Let me in/let me out. Do you know this game? This is when a house floof makes noises to rouse their servants to let them in and out of the house. It’s scored by how many times they can make it happen and how fast it happens.
I think Papi scored a perfect score. There was some swearing involved, as he didn’t even take a seventh inning stretch. Bored, hungry, restless, frustrated, lonely, disappointed in the weather…I think it was all of these things. Started at 5:30 AM and went on past 9:30.
Mom continues recovering from her appendicitis. Late update was that the appendix had ruptured ‘some time ago’. Gangrene had set in. She was lucky, the medical folks declared.
I was surprised. Several years ago, they mentioned she’d perforated her appendix and had gangrene but then backed off and claimed something else. I was always dubious of that shift. As for surviving, ‘survivor’ is one of many words I’d immediately apply to her. ‘Tough’ is another.
Staying with family medical situations, my aunt just had her colon removed. Well, all but an inch, is the claim passed to me. My father’s sister, she and Mom are the same age and have been friends since they were nineteen. They’ve been through a lot together and remain friends even through Mom and Dad divorced back in the early 1960s.
My aunt has been intermittently battling colon cancer for a while. She was declared clean on a January follow-up. But she went back in March because “something didn’t feel right”. At that visit, they declared she had a mass as large as a cat. That description had me visualizing a cat curled up, sleeping in her colon. Like Mom, my aunt is tough, survived the surgery despite a bad heart, and will be discharged, wearing a bag, in a few days.
Texting with sisters, thinking about Mom and my aunt, I wasn’t overly surprised when The Neurons introduced “Those Were the Days” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark setting). I’m remembering the Mary Hopkins version from 1968. I seemed to have heard it a great deal in my youth but I don’t think I’ve heard it in years. It’s amusing that The Neurons pulled it up out of memory.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. I’m on my second cup of coffee, and the day is moving on, with or without my involvement.
We’re getting started on another Saturday here in Ashlandia on the third rock from the sun.
It’s April 6, 2024. The weather isn’t anything to write about, but I will note it’s rainy and cloudy and sunny again today. Present temp is 46 F. Add six degrees to it, and you have the day’s expected high. There is enough sunshine to energize me and filet depression, anxiety, and frustration off my mood.
In personal news, Mom headed to the hospital for stomach pain yesterday afternoon. Appendicitis was the diagnosis. I called a sis for details. She was accompanying Mom and I was able to briefly speak with her. Sis and Mom were both in good spirits at the hospital. Even though, at that point, Mom was in the hall, cold, awaiting a room, awaiting surgery, over twenty hours removed from eating anything, at almost eight PM.
They operated on her that night. The 88-year-old woman survived without issue. It was related back to me that the medical staff claimed it was “the worse looking appendix they’d ever removed.” Mom seemed proud about that.
Today finds The Neurons plugging “Goodbye to You” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark eclipsed). This song by Scandal and Patty Smyth was released in 1982. It’s a fun, driving rocker. Dance floors filled up when it came on in clubs.
I know exactly why The Neurons summoned it today. My wife was reading the news and addressing her frustration with certain politicians. During her brief diatribe, she mentioned she’d be very happy to see several Republicans gone. She said, she would love to be able to say, “Goodbye and good riddance.”
Click. “Hit it,” The Neurons commanded, and the song began. I think it’s a good song for the day and purpose.
Stay positive, and be romantic, and — whoa, don’t know where that one came from. A slip of the head, I supposed. Be pos and strong, I meant to write, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Got any extra coffee on you? I think I need some.
All things must pass, and so Thursday has passed into Friday, April 5, 2024.
It’s a rainy day. Was a rainy night. Clouds are blockading the sun. That’s April weather in the US, isn’t it? “April showers bring May flowers,” and all that.
Not an American idiom, though, but a British one. I looked it up on the net, so it must be true.
April showers bring May flowers
Adversity is followed by good fortune. An old proverb, it was taken more literally in days gone by, and in fact it appeared in a British book of Weather Lore published in 1893.
So, be optimistic, I tell myself. I hold to hope even though sometimes adversity follows adversity until it’s an absolute train wreck.
It’s 38 F in my slice of Ashlandia. Expected to reach 52 F. Showers are also expected. But sunshine soaks the back yard and soars in through the southern windows. Papi, my ginger house floof, is engaging the sun in the yard. Tucker, the black and white house floof. is luxuriously grooming in sunshine through the eastern living room windows.
After feeding the two floofs earlier, Papi hunted me down in the kitchen. I was preparing my meal. (Floofs eat first. House rule. Not sure who decided…) Papi sat beside me and planted a level gaze on me. “What is it?” I asked. “Are you hungry? Need more to eat?”
Papi responded, “Meow.” I recognized that as, yes. Well, probably yes. It could also mean, no. Or, what? Or, maybe.
Taking it as one of those, I fed him again, since morning pate remained. He ate a thumble’s worth and headed for the back door. I believe I misinterpreted his meow.
We spent last night out with friends. First, food at a Medford restaurant, Tap & Vine. Then we headed to the Craterian Theater to catch a show, “The Simon & Garfunkel Story”. It’s a little story about the American folk rock duo, Art Garfunkel and Paul Simon. The story was interspersed with a cavalcade of their songs over the years.
What a cavalcade. “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, “The Sound of Silence”, “The Boxer”, “Homeward Bound”, “I Am A Rock”, “Cecilia”, “The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine”, “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme”, “A Hazy Shade of Winter”, “Bookends”, “Mrs Robinson”, “Feeling Groovey”. I’m certainly overlooking a few.
Probably not a surprise, but the crowd was a mostly over sixty collection. One companion joked, “Gray hair is required to attend.” There was a significant quantity of gray in the hair among attendees. But Simon & Garfunkel songs peppered our youth. Yet, Mom knew them, too. I remembered her singing “Mrs Robinson” to me when I was trying to ask her some question.
The song that often stays with me is “Richard Cory”. Why not? A 1966 song based on the Edwin Arlington Robinson poem, “Richard Cory”, it’s a tale of envy and jealousy. A man works in a Richard Cory-owned factory. Cory is rich, a man about town, attending the theater, driving fancy cars, having big parties, etc. The worker singing in the song works in the factory, hates his job and despises his poverty. But it’s Richard Cory who ends up killing himself.
Ironic, isn’t it, we mock. The man with everything is the one who takes his life.
Anyway, this is the song which The Neurons planted in the morning mental music stream (Trademark illusive) on this April Friday morning. Hope it brightens your day.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. I’m into my coffee already, thanks. Used it to wash down a buttered bagel. First course was canteloupe chunks. Fine way to start a Friday. Here’s the music.
Here we go again, another Thursday. Seems like there’s fifty of these a year.
Today’s Thursday is 04/04/2024, which offers a nice set of four symmetry.
It’s up to 41 F now in Ashlandia. Sunshine graces the east. Snow is scattered on some heights of green trees to the south. A plate whipped potato clouds brood over the western and northern skies. Rain and snow are forecast as possible. Sounds like one of those weather days, right? A high of 50 is being dangled in front of us.
I was a bit frustrated this morning. Connections was so easy. Wordle went well. Suduko was accomplished. But I couldn’t see the Spelling Bee pangram. I put it aside to try again later.
I watched some Jimmy Kimmel talking about politics this morning. Gave me a chortle so I thought I’d paste it up here so you can have a Thursday chortle, too.
Jimmy K summers the same fate as me. I can’t believe polls show DJ Trump leading President Biden in several swing states. Jimmy asks, “How is that possible?” Then he proceeds to present comic reasons about why it shouldn’t be possible.
WARNING: Kimmel shares some footage of Trump speaking. If you’re like me, you’ll need a barf bag on standby.
As for me, I don’t think those polls matter. I put my faith in Simon “Hopium” Rosenberg. He’s the Democratic strategist and analyst who refuted a red wave coming in 2022.
The idea of this interview is that, at a time when there is so much fretting in the Democratic world, you are not — and have never been — a bed-wetter. Can you explain why? This goes back to the midterm congressional elections in 2022, as I recall?
Yes. The argument I made then was threefold. One was that the Republicans did something unusual in 2022. Usually when a party loses elections, they run away from the politics that caused them to lose. And Republicans were running toward it. They were becoming ever more MAGA, even though MAGA had lost in 2018 and 2020.
Second, that Biden was actually a good president, and we’d have a strong case to make. And third, there’s been this huge increase in citizen engagement in the Democratic Party. We’ve been raising crazy amounts of money and have an unprecedented number of volunteers because of the fear of MAGA.
Simon R.’s position sums up my own tack. How can the things which didn’t work thrice before work this time? Don’t make no sense. I’ve also read several articles and posts about why the polls are off, and they give me strength.
Today’s music is a Green Day tune. I read about their SF Bay Area concert on SFGate and sought out the video. After enjoying it, The Neurons put it on a play loop in the morning mental music stream (Trademark eclipsed).
This song, “Living in the 20s”, came out this year. As might be anticipated from Green Day, it’s a sardonic take on living in the 2020’s twisted reality of shootings, media, and general craziness. I’ve selected a video so you can sing along. Also, not surprising for Green Day, it’s a fast-paced rocker.
Stay positive, lean forward, sip some coffee. Sorry, that was my reminder to myself. Your reminder goes, stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue.
Hello my fellow beings. Following the general trends of reality of which we are aware, we’ve shifted to the next elements in the sequence we’ve been following for centuries. If you’re using a solar calendar, of course. And Gregorian. If so, today is Tuesday, April 2, 2024.
Each morning when I rise, I put it out to the universe, can you slow down time for me? I’m not asking for much, just enough to finish some things on my lists while still being able to chill a little. Instead, I’m often looking at the time and wonder if someone’s pranking me by messing with the clocks and calendars. Maybe I’m being hypnotized for an hour and then awakened and forced to rush. I suspect the cats. They always appear to be sharing a secret that amuses them.
It’s warming up here today. Already at 60 F, we’re expecting the sun and air to take us to 78 F before the day is shuttered. Don’t get overly excited. As we’ve learned, it’s gonna change again. Tomorrow — Wednesday — is promising to be rainy, with a high of 55 F.
These sort of weather patterns always present me with a conundrum. The rain is good for us but I like the sunshine. I suppose, if I’m not going to be selfish, I should cheer the rain and accept it.
My floof boys are appreciating the sunshine, though. They’re airing their fur and soaking up rays, and looking sweet and charming, out there in the green grass and sun.
With Easter, I was thinking about family. Back when I was growing up (I’m now growing down, I think, becoming a little shorter each year), Mom made Easter a big deal. We dyed eggs. They were hidden. We hunted them. She presented us with elaborate baskets. Managing to prepare them in secret, they arrived on Easter morning like magic.
Those baskets were loaded. Sugar and chocolate dominated. She always ensured we each had a huge solid milk chocolate rabbit. We also had a large, lavishly decorated coconut eggs. Marshmallow rabbits and chicks, chocolates shaped like bunnies or eggs wrapped in colorful foil, and jellybeans and colorful marshmallow eggs set in plastic green grass lining the basket’s bottom finished the scene.
Then there were our clothes. My sisters bought new pastel dresses. I was presented with a new little three-piece suit and shoes, and taken for a haircut, so I was freshly groomed. I wore a crew cut then, held in place with Brylcreem. Didn’t need to shave in those days, so that saved time and effort. Dressed like that, we crowded into the packed local Protestant church to hear about Jesus and the Resurrection and sing hymns that I didn’t know.
Next, off to the Grands for a big family Easter dinner. Grandpa was in charge of making a huge Easter ham. That sucker tasted awesome.
Quite a turnout, it was. Dad wasn’t usually there. He and Mom were divorced and he was serving overseas in the military. But his family took Mom and her brood in. Beside us four and the two grandparents were four siblings and their significant others and children, anyway from twenty to twenty-five people.
Later that night, as children gradually retired on our overdoses of food, sugar, and socializing, the adults gathered to drink, smoke, and gamble with cards. Ah, Easter!
I don’t think it was the religion that made it such an awesome day. It was Mom and family, and the effort they put into it. Also, I was a child and had no responsibilities.
My sisters and Mom informed me of their Easter events via social media this year. It’s the new norm. It’s a smaller gathering. One little sister, Grandma Gina, hosted. Her daughters and her grandchildren and their spouses came over, along with another sister and her sons, and Mom and her beau. Not quite the extravaganza it used to be. I don’t think they even bought new clothes. They had plenty of food, though, especially desserts.
With these thoughts of family in my head, The Neurons delivered “Fly, Robin, Fly” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark imploding). Back when I was visiting for Easter one year, that song played on the car radio as I drove her somewhere in my Camaro. I was nineteen and in the military. She was nine, and so cute, with her straight bangs and shoulder-length shiny brown hair. As the song played, she turned to me and said, “This is my favorite song.”
Surprised me. The 1975 Silver Convention song was a disco classic, all about rhythm and dancing. Three words are repeated a few times during the song, and then there’s, “Up up to the sky.” I wasn’t into disco so much. But with my sister’s proclamation about the song, I heard it in a different way.
Stay positive and remain strong. Election day is growing closer. Lean forward and Vote Blue. I’m on my second cup of coffee now, so the day is going well for me. After writing, there’s shopping, and yardwork. Hope your day goes well. Here’s the music. It’s a fun video and will stir disco memories, if you were there. If you weren’t there, you can watch and learn.
Michael Seidel, writer 