Saturday I got together with Gregg again to work on our few songs for May 22nd. I brought my ukelele to play on one of the songs, "Busted", because it has a mandolin part on the recording and I thought the uke would work as a substitute. It does work and sounds cool so I'm going to play it on the gig. I will need to practice practice practice and cut my fingernails shorter. I can feel the tips of my fingers today from pushing on the strings. We're going to get a really good spot in the line up because my friend McG is the headliner and since I'm going to be singing with Mike as well as Gregg, we'll be scheduled close by. The guy who organizes this thing is publicizing Mike winning the Great American Song Writing Contest. Hopefully it'll be a good sized crowd with few children.
I had a wonderful lazy Sunday. The entire complex was quiet - probably everyone off celebrating Mother's Day somewhere else. Tink and I had a nice long walk, I did a little housework and then spent the entire afternoon knitting and the evening knitting and watching DVDs. It was heaven. I finished up the Green Gable, put it on my dummy and took a picture and forgot the camera at home today. I am nearly done with the pedicure socks I started last week - maybe an inch or two left of the cuff to go. I think I'll still be needing them for another month, which is why I decided to put them to the top of the queue. Then I started a new project. I was going to start the little lace jacket thing but then changed my mind and started the Rondeur. Oh, and the yarn I bought for that is just gorgeous!! It's called Aimee and it's by Louisa Harding. It's cotton and cashmere and so incredibly soft. I only got started - an inch of twisted rib. It's going to be a beautiful little top.
I finished my latest audiobook yesterday - another Kate Atkinson book. I really enjoy her and promptly bought another one. The one I finished - "Started early, took my dog" - ended with one of my favorite poems called "Hope", by Emily Dickinson.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Here's hoping we have a lovely, warm and sunny week. But don't hold your breath.
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