Marching to Pretoria

This in honor of my friend Ruth, whose husband had to drive there for something to do with passports.



I tried to find a YouTube with the Smothers Brothers’ version. That's where I first heard it. Here’s another classic. Vicious crevasses. Not to mention pumas.

Which led to this, both versions of Mason Williams’ Classical Gas. This song makes me understand why a group of larks is called an exaltation. Santana’s Smooth gives me that same sense of fierce, aching joy.

Which then led to this. I didn’t know that Clapton had recorded it, too. Exquisite, but this may be the only song he has recorded where I like another version better.

Secondborn found her father’s DD-214 [honorable discharge papers] at his apartment. This greatly increases the chances that they can get him into the VA hospital. Two non-interested parties witnessed him signing a DNR order and a medical POA. I called my office and got a link for a reliable financial POA, which Firstborn has saved and printed off her computer. That way the kids can make sure that his bills get paid [and the charming people with the get rich quick schemes, do not].

Middlest is wonderful. Looks good, so relieved to be home, fixed lunch for her dad and her aunt, and kept us entertained with funny stories. I left Firstborn’s just before rush hour and between rainstorms. I ran a couple of errands for the tribe and even managed to score the two remaining red aluminum crochet hooks that I lacked to make my series as complete as I think I will ever need. Who says good things don’t come to those who wait?

I did not take MS4 with me yesterday. That alpaca yarn, while lovely to touch, has lemming tendencies: the stitches like to crowd around the tip of the needle and push one another off. And then the dropped stitches like to holler “Geronimo!” and race to the bottom of the stole. So, I frogged it and have listed the yarn as for sale or trade on Ravelry. Which means that I need to come up with a commuter project. I will take a look at Friday’s clue on MS4 and see if I want to cast on again with a different yarn.

Dinner last night: a quarter of a canteloupe that I had bought and forgotten. A nectarine that was beginning to look like the before shot in an anti-ageing-serum ad. Six perfect meatballs. An individual portion of trees-and-cheese. Two small slices of bread from near the heel. A reasonable serving of those delectable sweet potato oven fries. And a snickerdoodle for dessert, because I had been doing unto others all day, and it was time to take care of myself.