Musically speaking, the sixties were a decade of distinct genres of music and there were very few "cross over" artists like today. You had your Elvis and your country and your "will you wear my ring and letter jacket" stuff dominating the airwaves. A few dance and swoon tunes and a truckload of R&B. And then there was what I was raised up on...classic rock. Never in my wildest dream as an idiot teenager did I dream that Poco, Blind Faith or Cream members would disband and disperse on the way to their respective solo careers. Hey..I was thirteen and it was 1969 ya'll. I suppose that's why watching sixties week on American Idol has been kind of like one of those nights I crossed the line and got groovy with the older kids then lost consciousness. Maybe it's how they weed out the really talented ones, huh? Anybody who can sing one from that era with a fresh twist deserves to be an idol. Like that last chick who did the one my grandmother used to listen to. Yeah, baby and yo dog.

George's funeral was a real tribute to his life and I learned a lot about the man that I knew casually as the joy of my friend Sue's life. He was an Air Force man like my Daddy for the entirety of his career ending it with a job as safety co-ordinator for the Air Guard in his area prior to his retirement three years ago. Throughout his celebration, the central theme was service to America and the joys of family and golf, not in any particular order mind you. His baby grandchild Kate does a mean Hannah Montana imitation, as demonstrated at the funeral food table. Precious.beyond.words.

On a lighter note, there is an urgent reason for me not to chase dust bunnies on the hardwood (as if I need a reason). Floor guy and Dad are talkin' and I don't have to do a thing until the new stuff is installed. If somebody lifts that stuff up a hundred years from now and sees that my floors were dirty I don't give a rat's ass. My focus will be keeping the top clean :)

More icy stuff on the way for the Poop family unless we manage to dodge the bullet. Personally, I'm not worried because I have two days off and plenty of bread and milk. And a sore throat. To steal a line word from my mostly risible friend *meh* I have photographic evidence of a cosmic sign from Big Ernie as to what my near future holds. See below: Exhibits A,B and C.

And then there's D who is forevermore up in my grill chasing the mouse.

Ya'll stay warm and sleep good. Don't let the bed bugs bite ^j^