A long time ago, in a universe far, far away there was a small unincorporated town next Called Bloomington, CA. My folks bought their home before there was mail service because they liked the area and thought it would be a good place to raise kids.
I grew up and moved away, but kept track of what was happening in the old home town and one year they were going to have a grand parade to celebrate the towns 100 year birthday. A call went out for Veterans to lead the parade and I thought about Dad right away.
I knew he wouldn’t want to go, but I was already wise in the ways of men so made a plan. I took drove my Triumph Spitfire over to their house and asked him to look at the U-joint because it was making noise. I brought a chair out for Mom because I wanted a witness. While Dad was under the car, I started telling him about the parade while handing him tools. He uh-huhed and that’s nice, hun so I knew just how much attention he was paying and told him that I was going to sign us up and let him know what time to be ready. “Sure, hun, be sure to remind me OK? And hand me that 5/8th socket”
I mentioned the parade to him about a week before but didn’t say anything about him being Grand Marshall, just what time it was going to start.
The day of I showed up to get Dad and he said he didn’t feel like walking that far (No worries, we are riding) and that he had things he needed to do. I pulled out my best teenager whine But DAAAADDD! You PROMISED!!! He was going to back out until Mom told him, “she’s right, you said you would do it” so he went and changed his shirt, combed his hair and off we went.
I was able to get us signed in and loaded on the lead truck before it was fully decorated and he didn’t register the placement. He had a great time, he waved at everyone he knew, waved at everyone he didn’t know and really enjoyed himself.
It wasn’t until the paper came out the next day that he learned that he’d been the Grand Marshall. I had the picture framed and the last time I saw it was at his funeral.
I was pretty proud of that 
I think I’ve mentioned that Hubs was the president of a motorcycle club in Arizona. It was called the Leathernecks and was a military support club. We rode in so many parades and funerals. The most important lesson I ever learned about parades is that you need to plan around the potty stops and avoid that second cup of coffee.
We used to ride in the Ira Hayes memorial parade down in Sacaton. I have a lot of things to say about the treatment of Native Americans that I could share if you have a week or so, the abject poverty on the reservations is appalling.
So, yeah, while I didn’t actually march in any parades, I’ve been in almost a hundred.
So yesterday was really hot and now it is 47F and overcast. We had a big wind storm blow in and a line (not power) from the main pole to our cat-sitter’s place is hanging down over our fence. I called it in and we will be having repair guys with their big rumbly trucks out there soon. That will be very exciting. Jolene will have a good view from Hub’s room or my french doors so we know the job will be supervised properly. George just gets annoyed at the noise and disturbed bird watching.
So far today he’s run off several cardinals, some spotted doves, a starling and a charm of goldfinches.
I looked up the embroidery shops address and learned that they are closed on Mondays so we will just get the 'shine today and go thread shopping tomorrow.
So off into the day, I hope everyone week starts out nice, even if you still have to work.