Tag Archives: Beloved

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Names

Last night I go to the Cowboy Ball, replete with cupcakes. It is the kick off of our local county fair, which is in two weeks. There is an hour two-step lesson and then a really fun band. The crowd is very mixed. There are some people who can two step, though not very many. There are some people faking it. After a while there are people dancing six count swing or tango or salsa, but everyone waltzes when they play the waltzes. It’s not quite a polka.

One dance partner asks, “Are you the poet doctor?” I blink. “Yes,” I say, pleased. “Which open mike were you at?” “Disco Bay.” I have done four there in the last three months, three at the poetry open mike and one at a music open mike. I was assured that they want poets too at the latter. Ok, then. “And what do you play?” I ask, because it must have been the music open mike. “Drums.” He is with a band that I know. “When do you play again?” He wrinkles his forehead. “I’d have to check my calendar.” “Get back to me!” I say and he says, “Thanks.” All this while dancing. We are doing some two step, falling into swing whenever one of us messes up a step.

I am nicknamed the dancing doctor by the coffee stand at the Farmer’s Market. She writes that on my cup. They are right next to the outdoor “stage”. I try to lure small children out to dance, solo since they don’t know me. They are wonderfully free and fun when they do come out.

I am pretty thrilled to be the poet doctor! We will see if that sticks in this community.

The photograph is Simon Lynge and Janna Marit two weeks ago at the Farmer’s Market. And here is the coffee stand.


And look! The poster for the Cowboy Dance in the lower left!

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: community.

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Child memories

This photograph is from a box sent by my cousin. My sister Chris and my mother Helen. On the back it says “pear tree”. My mother would try to assemble the parts of the Twelve Days of Christmas. When I was in my teens, she would hang glittery pears on her avocado tree that she had grown from a seed. One partridge, two calling birds. She had seven tiny glass swans that she would set swimming on a mirror lake, with white fluff around it for snow. I don’t think she got past seven. My mother had wonderful traditions that she developed for Christmas. She loved the old carols and wouldn’t sing the modern ones at all.

I think my grandfather or grandmother took this photograph. I thought, why isn’t it square? But it isn’t: it was cut from a page and is a bit of a trapezoid.

My sister is about four, so this would be from around 1968.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: children.

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Welcome rain

We are having a little light rain this morning. It has been weeks. The grass is very brown, as you can see. I don’t water in the summer and my grass comes back and it has lots of weeds as well. I am encouraging herbs to take over. I have parsley, spicy oregano, pineapple sage and thyme all competing with the grass/weed ground cover.

The climate news has been fairly appalling. The sinkhole in Russia, people falling in Texas and ending up in the burn unit because the sidewalk and asphalt temperature reaches 130, and the northern Atlantic Ocean breaking temperature records. I have two friends who are moving from Portland, Oregon to New Mexico. They have health issues that do better in heat than rain, rain, rain, but I worry. My daughter wants me to travel with her and I would like a destination that is not on fire. We are negotiating.

I did water the roses yesterday. Most of my plants are used to there being a couple month dry spell in the summer. Perhaps they steal water from the morning mist. A rhododendron died this year. I think the temperature of over 100 was too much for it last summer.

Elwha in the dry grass.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: climate.

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Sol Duc sploot

Here is Sol Duc splooting as a kitten, in October 2021. It was not very hot, but she did like to lie that way.

She also did the opposite of splooting. Is there an unsploot?

Elwha is more of a “rub my belly” type. He means it and will not ambush you. He doesn’t bite but just does full throttle purring for belly rubs. He also is not supposed to be on the table.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: splooting.

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my current trolls

I am getting some Facebook trolls. My favorites right now are two who requested that I friend them, ostensibly guys, but both said how beautiful I am and charming and etc. The picture that they put the request on is the poster for the last concert. The picture is of a sea lion.

Heh. Guess they think she is beautiful. I replied, “Uh, guys, that’s a sea lion.” They do not acknowledge this.

I am also getting peculiar friend requests. Often there is one friend in common. I contact a friend in Virginia to ask about one. She doesn’t remember the name, so I don’t reply. I also take a look at their home page before replying. If there is nearly nothing there, I think it’s a fake account. Pretty weird.

I am not answering WordPress’s daily questions, either. I think that is feeding ChatGPT or Big Data or someone. Nope.

Ok, let’s feed something random to the algorithm: Al Gore rhythm! I hope that confuses things. How is Al Gore’s rhythm anyhow? Can he dance? Can he shake it? Does he twerk? Work the twerk, Al! As usual, I would like to thank my personal AI, whose initials are MM. She knows who I mean. Sending you love, MM.

Now I will get Al Gore and twerking in my Facebook ads. Are there YouTube videos on How To Twerk? Inquiring minds shy away with horror, though it’s probably decent exercise.

Have a lovely day, trolls! MM, would you go mess their feeds for me? Give them Al twerking!

The photographs are from a museum in Europe in March 2022. Which is a troll? Maybe neither.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: troll.