Update: everyone gone, party a huge success, music fabulous, birthday boy received enough wine to stock a package store. Exhausted, even with two helpers who served and cleaned up after, as I spent most of the day working in the back yard grooming flowers, refilling hummingbird feeder, weeding, etc.-----and then it RAINED! But we had drinks and hors d'oeuvres in our new lower level before dinner and I loved the way we could go in and out between the inside and the covered patio despite the rain. Final head count of 14, two went out of town unexpectedly so it was a nice manageable number. Everyone had a wonderful time and honoree was in his element. Plans made for a repeat get together with this group plus a few absent friends at in December, for our Choral Society's Christmas concert and supper afterwards here. These people travel more than an hour to visit us, so we do our best to make it a festive occasion when they do.

My favorite is Waters of March (Ãguas de Março) by Antonio Carlos Jobim. Even though his native language was Portugese, he was fascinated by English, and all the words in the song are derived from Old English--nothing Latinate. He wrtoe both versions. A stick, a stone it's the end of the road, it's the rest of the stump it's a little alone it's a sliver of glass, it is life,it's the sun, it is night ,it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun. the oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush, the knot in the wood, the song of the thrush. the wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall, a scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all. it's the wind blowing free. it's the end of a slope. it's a beam, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope. and the riverbank talks. of the water of march it's the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart. the foot, the ground, the flesh, the bone, the beat of the road, a slingshot stone. a fish, a flash, a silvery glow, a fight, a bet, the range of the bow. the bed of the well, the end of the line, the dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find. a spear, a spike, a point, a nail, a drip, a drop, the end of the tale. a truckload of bricks, in the soft morning light, the shot of a gun, in the dead of the night. a mile, a must, a thrust, a bump. it's a girl, it's a rhyme. it's the cold, it's the mumps. the plan of the house, the body in bed, the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud. a float, a drift, a flight, a wing, ahawk, a quail, the promise of spring. and the riverbanks talks. of the waters of march. it's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart, a snake, a stick, it is john, it is joe, it's a thorn in your hand, and a cut on your toe. a point, a grain, a bee, a bite, a blink, a buzzard, the sudden stroke of night. a pin, a needle, a sting, a pain, a snail, a riddle, a weep, a stain. a pass in the mountains. a horse, a mule, in the distance the shelves. rode three shadows of blue. and the riverbank talks of the promise of life in your heart, in your heart a stick, a stone, the end of the load, the rest of the stump, a lonesome road. a sliver of glass, a life, the sun, a night, a death, the end of the run and the riverbank talks of the waters of march it's the end of all strain it's the joy in your heart

A Slip of the Lip (Can Sink a Ship) - Duke Ellington, 1943

Gloria Gaynor's I will Survive. The song picks me up. And it always reminds me of this cool wedding story -- https://apnews.com/13dc4c6d0b3297756443ecbc998c5eb6 The Crusaders Street Life Howlin' Wolf Wang Dang Doodle Chuck Berry Johnny B. Goode Jerry Lee Lewis Great Balls of Fire Glenn Frey's version of Route 66 is probably my favorite, but they're all good.