"And Flun is the letter I use to spell Flunnel,
A softish nice fellow who lives in a tunnel.
He only comes out of his tunnel it's said
When the right kind of softish nice music is played
On a kind of a hunting horn called the O'Grunth.
To learn how to play one takes month after month
Of practicing, practicing, isn't much funth.
And besides, it's quite heavy, weighs almost a ton-th,
So few people bother to play the O'Grunth
And the Flunnel's been out of his tunnel just one-th."
—Dr. Seuss, On Beyond Zebra
(I hope I got that all right. No copy handy to check.)
Finally down to practicing music for the IRM picnic on Saturday. Gary and I ran over a selection of train-related songs he has picked out. Tomorrow morning we'll meet with Amy and go over some again. And possibly Thursday afternoon with Neal. Then he meets with Neal and Amy on Friday while I'm at work. And then it's Saturday and we try to fit it all together live. Ha ha. Ho ho. Hee hee.
Getting back my guitar calluses after years of slacking is rough. And that says nothing about trying to get back the actual licks. But no matter.
*licks sore finger tips* I hope.
At least the weather has been nice. Hope it holds up for the weekend. I swear I saw an Anna's hummingbird at the library. And we are swarmed with orioles and goldfinches here at home. Thought there was a baby screech owl nearby last night, but it could have been a neighbor weaning a foal. The sound is not that different.