First things first, congratulations to the citizenry of France for blocking the fascists decisively. My heart swells with joy for you.
The absolute best thing happened in my neighborhood this afternoon. What at first I interpreted as a small mariachi band started playing somewhere across the street. It kinda sounded like they were just jamming, a few trumpets and a drum kit. But over time, the sound grew, and I realized there were far more instruments at play (pun intended). I looked through the trees, and zeroed in on the source of the sound. I could see a shiny brass Sousaphone standing proudly above the fence in the yard that backs up to the neighbors directly across the street. They played for hours, sometimes seeming to repeat what I'd heard before, but it was nothing I recognized for certain. It all had a complex mariachi vibe, but with the tuba, there was a lovely oompah component too. The orchestration sometimes came across as second and third parts, without the firsts, which made me think it was marching band practice for a large group of friends who are prepping for the upcoming season. And then the trumpets backed off an hour in, and I could hear clarinets? Were they there the whole time? Whoever they were, this lovely band, I cannot thank them enough for the hours of entertainment. Also, damn, after that long, how do those trumpeters still have lips? Mine would have been blown by the end of the first hour.
The boys are back from the mountains. Beinn was mostly good, I've been told. He "r-u-n-n-o-f-t a couple times," but returned when called. He ruined it, though, when they came home, and he jumped out of the truck before the back gate was opened, and hoofed it down the alley. The Mr had to chase him down in the truck, capture him, and then chase him again when he pulled that crap immediately when he parked in front of the house. This was only his second trip to the cabin. Maybe he will calm down as he gets used to it.
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