tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post8024243433238470707..comments2023-12-29T15:48:55.596-05:00Comments on Samurai Knitter: Goob photos and like that.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710658334966849773noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-75151229338011738272009-08-20T21:32:17.106-05:002009-08-20T21:32:17.106-05:00There's grass in Ohio?There's grass in Ohio?deananoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-22984859360020651552009-08-20T14:38:28.577-05:002009-08-20T14:38:28.577-05:00It's SO good to see her--and she looks so happ...It's SO good to see her--and she looks so happy! I haven't been to my local stomping ground to see the parade... I wonder if it's shrung too! I played the flute. Yeah, yeah... I'm a slacker.Amy Lanehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04885706951931450373noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-46547309556011615602009-08-19T23:51:28.832-05:002009-08-19T23:51:28.832-05:00oh man she's growing up so fast. I adore her l...oh man she's growing up so fast. I adore her little face!Bellshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01961733332080072331noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-87015451221059729012009-08-19T12:25:49.875-05:002009-08-19T12:25:49.875-05:00I wonder, absently, what she'll think of this ...I wonder, absently, what she'll think of this when she's older. <br /><br />Mrh.Baby nukenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-39666271343229985892009-08-19T12:14:25.754-05:002009-08-19T12:14:25.754-05:00I played flute and piccolo - I remember marching i...I played flute and piccolo - I remember marching in parades and just sweating and hoping I didn't trip! Happy memories (not) and why I switched to vocal music in 10th grade!Mandyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05629466576507448272noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-82638115278499431802009-08-19T08:31:26.430-05:002009-08-19T08:31:26.430-05:00I remember parades with kids riding bicycles decor...I remember parades with kids riding bicycles decorated with crepe paper; and local merchants on flatbed trucks decorated with inexpensive fabric, and sprays of wilting flowers. And everyone who had a horse rode it in the parade. But that was in a town with less than 2000 population and it was in the middle of the last century, so we'll probably never see parades like that again. But we waved like mad because we knew EVERYONE who was marching!<br /><br />Baloons are so cool! And the Goob is sprouting like the proverbial weed.roxiehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14916948065233137971noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-41368019618130898362009-08-18T23:52:15.061-05:002009-08-18T23:52:15.061-05:00That would be why I played clarinet - much easier ...That would be why I played clarinet - much easier to march with :-)<br /><br />My son once went to our local parade early with his dad to sell Rotary coins. He was recovering from strep and fainted at the head of the parade route, bonking his head on the sidewalk. I was sitting down the street wondering why the parade wasn't starting. They had to wait for 20 minutes to get an ambulance in and out before they could start the parade. Son was fine - husband got yelled at!Galadhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09246042661575565455noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-18865221892687271972009-08-18T21:23:21.066-05:002009-08-18T21:23:21.066-05:00I was a Dummer.
HusbeastI was a Dummer.<br />HusbeastAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-76999835455118080122009-08-18T19:45:46.526-05:002009-08-18T19:45:46.526-05:00as a favor to my future father-in-law, i once roll...as a favor to my future father-in-law, i once roller-skated, in a clown suit, behind his lions' club's purple fire truck in a 4th of july parade, while tossing candy to kids. <br /><br />with about 2.3 of 2.5 miles behind me, i slipped, fell backward and landed hard enough to tear rib cartilage. breathing was LOTS of fun for 6 wks.<br /><br />the only bright spot was that the fall hurt so bad i couldn't even cuss -- a very good thing under the circumstances.<br /><br />recently, i went to band day at the indiana state fair -- to see sheep & knitted stuff, not bands. but i saw kids in their band t-shirts between rounds of competition. one fairly sizable school's shirts listed its band's members . . . all 21 of them. sad.ellen in indynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-92020755159264419662009-08-18T16:45:45.242-05:002009-08-18T16:45:45.242-05:00Jeepers! She really is growing! Is that baby tummy...Jeepers! She really is growing! Is that baby tummy all gone?!?<br /><br />I remember a parade here, many years ago, celebrating the 200th (or something) anniversary of the fire department. Fire departments came from all around the state to march. My kids adored parades, and it was on a birthday to boot....but after a full hour the end of the parade was nowhere in sight & the kids had begun to whine, so we left.<br /><br />And then there was the parade when the fire siren went off in the middle, with the fire trucks all stuck at the tail end of the parade with no access. I was sitting across from the station; up went the doors & out came a little bitty ancient truck, the only one left. <br /><br />I have never marched in a parade; it sounds ghastly.Emilynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-9798348758728927192009-08-18T15:06:50.200-05:002009-08-18T15:06:50.200-05:00Jeeze! She is growing like a dang weed! Or maybe I...Jeeze! She is growing like a dang weed! Or maybe I just notice it more since the kid has been born. I'm already dreading the long days out in the Florida heat and humidity.Teshahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09510553178530691931noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21397483.post-47988755652762838582009-08-18T13:49:08.017-05:002009-08-18T13:49:08.017-05:00I was a trombonist. I feel your pain (except, not...I was a trombonist. I feel your pain (except, not quite...)Lizhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02226617138865451849noreply@blogger.com