Trombones, for sure. You can have my steak when… Nah, forget it. You can’t have my steak.
I was very surprised to learn my dad played slide trombone in high school, and according to his yearbook, was pretty good at it and played a lot. He went off to college, the Depression hit, and I don’t think he picked up a slide trombone again.
What’s central changes as we grow and our circumstances change, I guess. A sweet, lively little Spice Baby sounds like a wonderful priority to me. 
Mine either 
!!! Snarling, baring of teeth commences…
I played trombone in high school. I kept it up for a while after high school–even played in an R&B garage band for a bit. But I haven’t touched it for years now.
It’s a fun and surprisingly difficult instrument. I played from fourth grade through freshman year of college. In high school I was in symphonic band, marching band, jazz band, and pit orchestra for our musicals. I did a solo freshman year of college but that was the last gasp. I do miss it, but as much as I loved music, I love writing fiction more. So that’s really what I should be doing in my free time.
Believe it or not, I still have some free time. Somehow we got the world’s easiest baby. Not only does he sleep all night, he’ll spend gobs of time exploring on his own. He’ll play with me for twenty minutes and then, “all right, Mom, time for me to take a trip to the kitchen.” Godspeed, little one.
Do what you love. I loved writing fiction (see the Short Fiction threads), and I can still do and enjoy that. But I think I love music more. To each their own, eh?
Time to retire. Be well, all; and I’ll see you tomorrow night.
Another late night with no sleep. How’s everybody doing?
I have a cold. Not Covid or the flu. A cold. Trying not to cough up gunk at work when guests are around is hard.
My anxiety is through the roof. The upcoming election doesn’t help, but I also have some personal things going on. If it weren’t the election I’d probably freak out about something else.
Both of the above. Not being able to sleep is maniacal. Anxiety is like wolves nipping at my heels every minute. The election dread is worse than I would have guessed, in my kind little midwestern town they called off school today and Tuesday because of concern about kids’ safety being out and about going to and from school. Never thought I’d see that here.
Hey, late-night friends. If you could, could you pass along best wishes to my cat, Tigger?
He’s not doing well. He’s been losing weight, and on Monday, I made an appointment with the vet for Thursday.
In spite of the weight loss, on Saturday, he was just fine, bugging me as normal, and jonesing for kitty treats. On Sunday, he jumped up on the arm of my easy chair, like always, and we watched NFL football on TV (and he begged for kitty treats). On Monday, he wandered around a little uneasily, was clearly in discomfort of some sort, and ignored his food. That signaled real trouble (Tig always complained if there was less than three days worth of dry food available), and I made the appointment with the vet.
Monday night, I again watched football, but this time, Tig could not jump up to the arm of my chair to watch the game with me. He came up to the chair, but could not make the effort. He went back to his favourite napping place, and fell asleep.
Thankfully, I’m a late-nighter, and if I have to pull an all-nighter, I will. I’ve been checking on him every fifteen minutes or so, just to see if he’s still breathing. So far, he is, and I plan on calling the vet first thing. I don’t know if he will last until Thursday, and I don’t want to take any chances.
Please, good thoughts for Tigger.
Oh, my goodness; all my best thought to Trigger. Poor boy.
We’ll be thinking of you and poor Tigger.
Lots of positive thoughts for you and Tigger, @Spoons.
Of course, good thoughts for Tigger. My beasties send some too, international feline friendships and all.
And Spoons, good thoughts being sent for you too. Heartrending vigil for you and we are here for you in spirit.
Hoping for Tigger and long-distance hugs for Spoons.
Thanks, folks. Your comments mean a lot.
Tig made it through the night. So did I, mostly. I couldn’t make it past 5:00 am though, and fell asleep. Woke up about 10:00 am, and checked on Tigger first thing. Thankfully, he was still breathing.
I have an appointment with the vet this afternoon.
Peace and light be with you all. We will be riding alongside you both.
Okay, we’re back from the vet.
In brief, Tigger is wearing out. He’s 17 years old, and old age is taking its toll. The doctor drew blood and urine, and we should get the test results back in a day or two. Those will help us to decide how to move forward with treatment, though the doctor did warn me that the results may indicate that euthanasia may be best.
The doctor did suggest that Tig might do better at the emergency pet hospital across town, for a day or two, where he could get IV drips and whatnot. I turned that down, and the doctor agreed with me when I said, “If Tig passes in the next few days, let him do it at home, where he is surrounded by familiar friends, and his usual napping spot, and my voice, and the TV and so on; and not someplace totally unfamiliar and scary.” I was glad that the doctor agreed with that.
For now, Tig is back home. He has some special food (Royal Canin Recovery) that he is to get a little bit of every few hours. It will help a bit in the interim, as will the glucose he received. He’s settled in for another nap.
Thanks again, friends. I know that Tig thanks you too.