I was sitting in a waiting room at a doctor’s office the other day -- I had taken my friend who had the shoulder surgery there for his first post-op checkup -- and I picked up a magazine called FitAtlanta. In it was a fascinating article about the various benefits of goat’s milk and cow’s milk. If you think I'm going to mention any of them, you have another think coming. One of my readers, Jeannelle of Iowa (not to be confused with Eleanor of Aquitaine, the mother of Richard the Lion-hearted), lives on a dairy cattle farm. Another reader, Mary in Ohio, lives on a goat farm. Call me a wimp, but I don’t want to upset either of them!
In three weeks I am scheduled to be the pianist at another wedding. My duties this time will include accompanying a flutist who just happens to be the flute teacher of the bride. I must take some time between now and then to limber up the old fingers on the keyboard.
My time as a voluntary chauffeur continues. I will be taking my friend’s son, who has been here for a week, to the Atlanta airport tomorrow to fly back to California. Sometime this weekend I will go back to the airport again to pick up my friend’s other son, who also lives in California, who is coming here for a few days also. Son number two couldn’t make the trip earlier because he had gone to Kuwait and Iraq to operate the sound equipment for a musical group that was entertaining American troops. For me, the song of the not-so-open road has not yet ended either.
My oldest son’s family drove to Alabama this past weekend to spend some time with my daughter’s family. For several years they have seen each other only at family get-togethers during major holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. From what I hear, a good time was had by all, visitors and visitees alike. My daughter did spend some time in her kitchen, but the group also managed to hit a couple of Birmingham-area favorites: Jim and Nick’s in Gardendale for Southern-style barbecue and Nabeel’s in Homewood for Greek and Mediterranean food.
We saw the first jonquils of spring yesterday, scattered in profusion along the side of a country road. One year I saw forsythia bushes in bloom during the first week of January, but not this year. January around here was bitterly cold including a few days that never made it above freezing. The only snow we had this winter was a few flurries a couple of weeks ago. Midwesterners, please do not laugh.
I'm ready for spring.
