My soundtrack is taking on a life of its own. Now, when a song works its way into my psyche, I pay attention. This morning it’s “My God” by Jethro Tull. I absolutely love their musicianship. What a band. I love them to this day. In fact, there is very little music from “my” generation that I feel I have outgrown. Some of the lyrics are debatable and dated, but the music is impossible to beat. You can have all the current “popular” artists. Give me alternative, independent or “My Generation”. Oh, and I like Frank Sinatra, too. Ella Fitzgerald. Oh, hell. I like good music. And, the artwork on the album covers? Where did that go? All we get now are pictures of the artists. Have you seen the cover of Aqualung? Amazing. These influenced an entire generation. Now, art is considered a luxury. How sad for us all. I think I might listen to Cross-eyed Mary and Locomotive Breath.
I have spun the past two nights. As you all are well-aware, two in a row does not a habit make. Still, I’m pleased. This roving (unknown origins) requires a mighty spin. It needs that because if the twist isn’t pretty tight, it just disintegrates in my hands. I really don’t have any idea what it is. Of course, my spinning experience is quite limited to date. I have spun a bit of BFL, but that’s about it. I have alpaca and merino and a few blends, but haven’t spun them yet. I’m getting there, though.
Do you have big plans for the 4th? I’m cleaning and spinning and doing a bit of knitting. Maybe some laundry. This weekend is one that I’ve been needing for some time. I will be off for the next 5 days. I have many chores, but also some fun things planned. My BB, BSIL, Peanut and her boyfriend will be over on Saturday. We are having Midwest beer brats, grilled prawns, potato salad, homemade caramelized onion dip and for our cocktails, Citrus Wine Cocktails. I’ll let you know if the cocktails are good. Basically, it’s dry white wine, orange liqueur, and club soda. Easy peasy, but we’ll test it for you first.
This picture is a perennial in our front garden. The blooms weigh it down and it spends the summer on its side, but it’s so pretty. I have no idea what it is, either. I plant it. It grows. If I like it, it stays. If not, it’s moved. Since it’s been there for at least ten years, I’m sure I knew at one time what the hell it is, but no longer. The flowers are little buttons of yellow and the foliage is a pale green with feathery leaves. No clue. Don’t care. I admire gardeners with organized gardens (weeds don’t count, everybody has ’em). Norma, Heide,you are the gardeners I’m talking about. I look at your gardens and I’m so impressed. I look at mine and feel weepy.
So, to avoid unnecessary tears and chest beating (that would hurt), I will bid you adieu. Have a good one!