Cemetry Gates

A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates


So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now ?



With loves, and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born And then they lived
And then they died
It seems so unfair
I want to cry

A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetry gates

Actually, it was a lovely sunny day so went to visit Wendy in her new condo, her posh Park City slope side condo. Very nice! We ate sandwiches and went for a walk. We enjoyed the crisp fall air and took a stroll over to a hidden historic Park City cemetery. It was the kind of cemetery that you think of when someone tells a spooky story around a campfire. It seemed a very appropriate October activity. However, I got the impression that Saffy just thought it was another fun playground.

Park City is always lovely in the fall and today was no exception. We're so happy that Wendy could finally get moved into her place. I'm sure she won't the commute up Parley's Canyon during the winter.

My mental jukebox

This morning while shoveling the driveway, an old Spike Jones song started playing in my mind:

My driveway is covered in snow
I'm so tired of shoveling it
But at least snow is pure, white, and beautiful
And it's better than shoveling...

(Chorus)
Shaving cream, be nice and clean
Shave every day and you'll always look keen

Does anyone else have this problem? You're going along in your day and something triggers a song and you have to step back and figure out what you did and how it relates to this song. I can't tell you how often this happens to me. It's kind of bizarre.

This week Lisette's birthday flowers were looking a little sad and so I pulled out the dead ones. So a stupid song from the 80's (which I didn't even like) pops into my brain:

The flowers you gave me
Are just about to die
When I think about
What could've been
It makes me want to cry
(Could've been - Tiffany)

Maybe I've listened to way too much pop music in my life. When Melinda and I would first married we would have conversations and I would slip lyrics into the conversation. Boy, she hated that! It took me a while to break that habit, but every once and and while I'll do it.

We still have this ongoing joke concerning a particular Smiths lyric. Actually, I could quote a Smiths lyric for almost every situation (well at least every depressing situation.) We'll ask each other "do you still love me?" and then finish with the lyric:

I still love you, oh, I still love you
...Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love