It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)

Ha roo, pups and cool cats!  Oh, you may have thought since I chose the title of an old jazz classic for the title of my post that it would be Dave - but no!  It's me!  So there we were yesterday:  Dave was on Guard Duty in the kitchen, Mom was out in the gardens moving rocks around (don't ask me!), and I was at the front window giving Dad a little advice on his golf swing.

"Bend at the hips, Dad!  That's good!  Keep your back straight!"

Then ... Mom must have snuck up behind me and snapped a photo.

Me - swing coach

I couldn't be interrupted - I was too busy analyzing Dad's swing.

"Keep the tilt in your shoulders, but close them up a bit!"

Oh.  Yeah.  The cushions from the sitzbank?  All part of being Dad's swing coach.  Sometimes I get so frustrated with him, I throw the pillows on the floor!  But as they say, "It don't mean a thing!"

Play bows,
Zim

PS:  Yes, it was me.  I'm not going to try to hide it.  I tossed the pillows on the floor - but I have a history of doing it very neatly (click here).  I mean - I was named after a Drill Sergeant!