I'm having a ball with my new musical toy, jumping around like a music fiend on crack and loving every minute of it. Right now I'm listening to Chicago thinking about my uncle Jimbo and how he was always the fun music teacher. He took his daughter and friends to concerts at the only big venue available at that time in Memphis. He was an inspiration for the musician within me and also for the art of having fun just making something. He's the one who took us to the jail on a field trip. He and his wife taught me how to play the piano and read music. At his funeral, I sat with the girls as one of his own. To this day, I wish I could just sit down and have another beer with him.
My sweet little southern belle of a mama taught me how to cook, against my will, and I'm glad she did. That has proven to be a real "man magnet" over the years, if you know what I mean. She's a cross between Paula Deen and Martha Stewart and simply will NEVER stop planning. It's not in her nature. As for me, I'll leave the scheduling to everybody else and be the idea guy. It's less stressful, considering all the variables of engineering the twirl of the world. Wherever I end up, I expect to find rainbows. I've moved on to the ex-Doobie, Michael McDonald and his raspy baritone singing Motown. He's right up there with JT in my book, although I do enjoy World Gone Crazy. Like, a lot.
Anna and BG gathered with me earlier here in the office/doggie sitting room and the talk turned to the state of our world and how sometimes you have to make some noise for truth and goodness and the american way. Fires and stun guns aren't necessary...just a simple "take care of our village" will do. I'm tired of bitching about it. It is what is is...right Sue?
I have two days off and a much needed therapy appt. Don't call me...I'll call you ^j^