Why I hate vacuuming: It drowns out
Capprecio Italien coming from the app on my smart TV. Why I don't hate dusting quite as much as vacuuming: I can listen to all of
Bolero while I dust this small apartment. That's how long it takes... one rendition
. But only if Keoni isn't playing in the orchestra, since I sit down and watch for the camera to focus on the violists for a moment or two. Ah well, I can tune in
The Pines of Rome to help me finish. (I can also iron two men's shirts in one rendition of
Pines, but I don't iron anymore.)
Then there's grocery shopping. It's fun to pick out what I need and look at stuff I don't need. But then there's the haul home. I'm tired, and driving home is ahead. That's when Siri keeps me alert and tunes my car radio to
Boogie Wonderland, followed by
Funky Town. I feel kinda cool 😎 thumping into a parking space at my senior apartments.
But if traffic moves slowly or I have to wait for the SEPTA commuter train to get out of the way, I can sing along to
Down to the River to Pray.
Lately, and I mean late, I do laundry down the hall and bring my sketch book with me instead of asking Siri to time the load, then going back to my apartment. Time flew as I sat there with pencil and pad.
Tuesday, I sat in on a drumming group up on the third floor of a part of this senior establishment. I had high hopes for it, but it was disappointing except for the view of trees out the window, so I went to my group of Tuesday artists. I was late, but managed to make an image for today. Say, hello to Rose...
Ry Cooder gathered together
The Buena Vista Social Club (full album) players, who, by then, were of advanced years. When I'm getting ready to go out to a concert or something special, I like to hear
Pueblo Nuevo's ancient player rendering this piece of Cuban jazz. He reminds me that age doesn't matter when the strings of our hearts are strummed.
All around us, strumming happens. Each day, we get to find out where or when or how or who or what, and that's the adventure.
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