Just here for the clips? (sulking.) Fine; go here.

Vacillations in the heavens all day - sun, moody clouds, sudden humidity, brightness, rain. Within ten minutes. Over and over again. We’re due for another cool weekend, and I don’t mean “possessing an indescribable quality of laconic charisma.”

Took the dog to the vet for his heartworm pills; they discovered he also needed rabies and other shots, and they washed out his ears. He bore it all well. It’s interesting to see how he reacts to other dogs - the bouncy playful let-me-smell-you big galumphing dogs bursting with rude vitality. He isn’t afraid, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. There comes a point when you give up on your species entirely, it seems. Too bad dogs don’t have their version of dogs. It would be a comfort.

A day, it was; just a day. Did a podcast in the morning, went to the office to do a video show in my finery, filed a column, got a text from daughter:


I sent back: now?


I sent back: we’ll talk about it at dinner, and that doesn’t mean No.


Well, it means remembering when I was close to her age, and had my heart set on a French-class trip to Dijon, and was crushed when my parents said - eventually - no. The eventually part lead me to believe that my Mom just didn’t want me to go, and made the case to my dad, who was probably inclined either way. So I knew we’d probably say yes, and since it’s contingent on the class raising the money themselves, it might not happen. But if it did she’d have the experience of a lifetime. Again. She gets a lot of those. For me the experience of a lifetime prior to the senior class trip to Paris and Rome was a plane trip to the truck factory in Kentucky, followed by a long drive up the freeway back home. (That’s where yesterday’s Evanston Illinois Holiday Inn material came from.) The ride home in the truck began when it caught on fire a few miles from the dealership. I hate thinking about that, because it’s one of the few things I recall from the entire damned year.

Probably just as well. Life was good, so the bad stuck out.

Speaking of Paris and Rome -

No, later. Just wait. Trust me.





Now, the Cues! Do I have to explain? Fine; if you're just joining the Listen project, it includes a selection of music cues gleaned from "The Couple Next Door." Library music the producers dropped in to get them in and out of scenes. It's the background soundtrack for mid-century life. Many more can be found here.


Toodling music for general toodling:




This was filed under “General Happiness #26,” perhaps; it’s the end, suitable for concluding the first act. Not a show closer.




I think I’ve had this one before, as I always say after listening to them too many times - it’s the way it really sails into the melody with a big intake of breath:




Now. You ask yourself what this one’s about. The end gives it away.



That’s right: baby music. The plot concerned naming the baby, another arc that dips in and out.

More skipping-along music, with a completely unexpected modulation at the around 10 second mark.




If you’re going to be dealing with opinionated men, especially middle-aged ones, hand it to the cellos and let them scurry along self-importantly while the wife-notes comment:




Had this one last week, and noted: "in the key of W, modulating to T and then ending in F:"




It gets odder.




And then we end with an ending which is just a wee bit more ending than we need.










I mentioned Paris, right? Check out the update below. Trust me. (By the way, it's a small preview of the stem-to-stern overhaul of lileks.com - flat, centered, Google fonts, with a site-wide consistent navigation bar at the bottom. Individual sites will have their own character, but there will be an element that ties them all together.)

Anyway, it's a 1970s Paris Hotel brochure. Trust me.


A column at startribune.com (scroll down to the columnist section) and other things here and there! Have a grand weekend, and I'll see you around.



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