Day 143

Windmill framed by something other than other windmills

It isn’t a good quality photo because I was too far away, and had to zoom way too much. Someday I’ll take the same photo, except I’ll get nearer the windmill. I just need to find another day when I can safely stand in the middle of the street.


I have a confession to make. I sometimes listen to music that I would normally not admit that I like. For instance, this morning I was playing one of my old tapes, and who should I hear but Barry Manilow singing Could It Be Magic and I liked it. I will never buy one of his albums, but I have copied a few of his songs. I like The Captain & Tenille, but I will never understand why anyone would write or perform or listen to a song about rodent amor. Of course that holds true for America, another soft rock group, but a group I proudly admit that I like.

I started thinking this afternoon about many of the artists I listen to on a regular basis, and how many of them are now dead. Off the top of my head I can list Rosemasry Clooney, Steve Goodman, Lou Rawls, two-thirds of the first two incarnations of the Kingston Trio, one half of The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Mary Travers, Doc & Merle Watson, Paul Desmond, and those names came to me because I heard something by each of them today. Thank goodness for recording technology. I’ll be able to listen to them perform for many years to come. I plan on living many more years, and maintaining my hearing.


Cindy and I were on our way to Maely’s T-ball game this evening but stopped in to see Flo. Well, Cindy went in; I waited in the car; I had been there earlier in the day. While I waited I put on my headphones and turned on my MP3 player. I closed my eyes and let the music bring me peace. I sat that way for a few songs and then to decided to open my eyes and look around. One of Flo’s neighbors was standing in her doorway taking a picture of me in the car. I wonder if I’ll end up in her blog.