Suddenly I'm In the Jackson School Gym

I realized the other day that I didn't have any music to play and sing with LC so I went online to look up Tom Pease who is a homegrown kids' singer, a troubadour of the silly-songs-set from central Wisconsin.  When DS and DD were in elementary school he'd come once a year for an assembly, and I think we had either a cassette or record of him singing since they can still sing many of the songs. Amazon didn't have one with the songs I remembered, Banana Slug in particular so I searched for his website and there it was.  I tried to download the mp3, but every time I tried to check out it told me that my cart was empty.   I tried to order a CD but that would wouldn't stay in my cart either.  I scrolled down to the bottom and found a phone number, so I called it.  Tom Pease answered the phone!  The real guy.  I stammered around because he's Tom Pease but I managed to order a CD.  It came yesterday.  I just peeled off the wrapper and slid it into the player of the laptop.  It's playing right now and in my head I'm sitting on a rickety folding chair in a gym, that smells like pb&j sandwiches and snowpants, full of squirming, singing kids.  Good times.  I gotta listen to relearn the words.  (Yeah, that's why I'm listening, singing along in my head, and bopping in my chair.)  DIL1 even knew him when she was a kid, knew him will enough that they went to barbecues together.  Suddenly I think she's even cooler than I did before and I've always thought she was very cool.

I got a ways on the second Choco Cherry 2-needle mitten, it kind of matches, and I'm happy with it.  I don't know why it seems like mittens made this way go a lot faster than ones I make in the round.  Maybe it's going faster because this one's not an adult size?

It's snowing.  Not a lot, not enough to cover the ground, but it's falling at an angle.  That means it's also windy, and it's Friday night so there's knitting, which means yours truly will be out in the blowing snow flurries in a couple hours.  Can't miss knitting, nope can't do it.


February 13--Marc Muench, MM-9801.  Elaine could tell that the mountains she saw out the window of the plane were young, they were jagged with sharp edges and sheer cliffs, not soft with gentle slopes like the mountains in the East.  These ranges looked like they could chew you up and spit you out, and be glad to do it.  She felt the plane bump and tilt a bit in the rising air from the sun-warmed rocks and traced the silver thread of a river twining its way to the south and the wide river they had flown over earlier.  The guy in the seat behind her was going on about the Continental Divide.  Elaine didn't know if the woman whose bored voice she heard was traveling with him or not.

It's Friday the 13th.  I don't feel like I've had any special serving of bad luck today, not so far anyway, and I even got all my errands done.  Well, they were out of the canned soup Durwood wanted but I got a rain check so I'm good.  I'll zoom over earlier tomorrow and hope they've got what he wants, if not I'll try the next day or the next.  I've got all week.  Because I don't have to go to work until a week from Monday.  Woohoo!
--Barbara