Thank God I had time to practise the bass with nobody calling me about a yard. I sat in the garage after putting the machines away and played the same part slow, because standing with the band I always press too hard and my left hand gets tired. Sitting down I could feel the strings under each finger instead of just trying to keep up. My little girl came and danced in front of me, even when I stopped, she kept going. By supper my fingers still had the marks but my shoulders were loose. My wife said she could hear that one part from the kitchen enough times already. I said now you can sing it Sunday.

I am trying to choose a song for the men's breakfast, something everybody can join without looking at a screen. I know many songs but when I write down the first line, my head goes to the bass part and I lose the words. My wife laughed because I tell her I know the whole service by memory. Knowing where to come in is not the same as knowing every verse, apparently. I called one brother and we sang on the phone, then both stopped at the same place. Now I have three half songs on the kitchen paper, right beside two estimates that are actually finished. Maybe I should ask the women first next time.

Mijo washed his little sister's muddy shoes without anybody asking, and I was so pleased I almost called my wife to come see. Then I thought he is sixteen, not six, he will hate that. I just told him good job and he said she needed them tomorrow. That's all. Lately every talk between us becomes about work or school and I get angry when he looks away, so seeing him quietly help her made me glad in a way I didn't expect. I wanted to stay there talking, but had nothing ready that wouldn't turn into advice. Left him with the shoes. Told my wife later anyway, she was pleased too.