Let’s see. I have a sprained left shin. I fell on Monday, walking around a piece of property trying to find out if it had two streams. It doesn’t. It has one, three feet deep and over 18 inches wide. Who cares? Well, if it’s over 18 inches wide, it’s a salmon stream and to build a house you have to be 150 feet away. Which means you can’t because it cuts diagonally right through the property. Darn. I did not fall in the stream. I fell into a nice hole by a tree and rolled my left ankle a little. My ankles are pretty strong from dancing. It seemed fine.
So the next day I hike the beach twice, with my daughter and then B, maybe 6 miles. I am tired of hiking boots and try the toe shoes instead. “You have toe SOCKS?” said my minimalist daughter. “Of course,” I said, “Otherwise they are uncomfortable.”
Ankle is fine.
Next day I end up moving furniture. Ankle is a little sore.
Next day I hike a couple miles of beach in the morning and then a friend from Portland and I do the spit. We get to within a mile of the lighthouse, which means we hike 5-6 miles out on sand. It is gorgeous. I am limping on both feet by the time we get back, but left shin is worse. It’s really dumb to hike 14 miles in shoes that you have only worn once in the last year. I elevate my ankle once in the car.
The NEXT day B and I are on a jaunt. My ankle now makes it known that it is NOT HAPPY with me. We stop at the store for fud, as my son calls it, and I get an ace wrap and wrap it. Later we pay $1.00 at a Fast Food Joint for a cup of ice water and I ice it. At his park unit he mows and I limp along the river until I am in the sun. Later we hike Rialto Beach. I wore my hiking boots. My ankle is not appeased.
Now we are at yesterday. I have tickets to the Sweet Honey in the Rock on line concert. At noon. Junteenth. Ooops, no, at 3 pm. Ooops, no, on the west coast at 5 pm. Then I can’t make the stupid ticket work. I am really really frustrated. Well. I send them emails, try to get a new password, I have the ticket number. I keep getting a 503 server OVERWHELMED. Dang. I give up after an hour.
But I am invited to a Sinatra Solstice Juneteenth Bash, formal dress up. In my town that means wearing anything you can think of. I put on a gray dress, sleeveless but it has little gray flowers with silver gray pearls in the middle, all over the front. I have above the elbow white gloves. My ankle has a snug wrap and I put on dark gray hose and silver shoes with a 1.5 inch heel. I won’t dance, too hard on the ankle. I have acquired a set of gray pearlish beads which is so long that if I do not wrap it around twice it reaches to my knees. Mysteriously enough, it has a clasp. Why does it have a clasp? So some giant can put it around their neck? I complete the outfit with lipstick and my oxygen tank. The tanks are lighter than the concentrator, though bulkier. They are slightly bigger around than a tall oxygen tank but are light. I change the tank before I go. A full one lasts about 3-4 hours.
It is an outdoor party, there is tons of yummy food and there is wine and mead but no beer. I brought one beer along with my contribution, so I nurse my one beer… and dance. My ankle does not like this, but the music is so fun. Our host sings sets intermittently and then there is a DJ. The above the elbow white gloves are very fun to wear dancing and I have to try not to whack people when I spin with the awkward oxygen tank.
One gentleman thanks me for dancing. He says I am having so much fun that he’s having fun just watching. Cool. I LOVE to dance. One woman says something about wanting to pick one of the gray flowers off my dress, and I say dramatically, “No, I shall not be deflowered!” A line that one cannot use often… People have wonderful costumes and feathers and gloves and hats. It is fun just seeing what people are wearing. People were asked to come only if vaccinated and I am mostly distanced. I mostly dance alone, but have a couple of dances with guys. It’s a bit tricky to spin without whacking them with the tank. Tank girl, heh, heh.
At last I get home. I got to the party at 6 and it is not dark when I get home. Maybe 8 or 8:30? I lie down on the bed with an ice pack, propping my pissed off shin up on a pillow, just for a few minutes. Crash and wake up three or four hours later with the light still on. I turn out the lights, move the ice pack and go back to sleep.
Long white gloves and an oxygen tank. I am so grateful for the oxygen. I feel better than I have in the last seven years….
….and today I might just rest the ankle.
Here is one of my favorite Sweet Honey in the Rock songs:
Happy Father’s Day. My father died in 2013, emphysema from unfiltered Camel cigarettes. Damn cigarettes. I miss him.
This is the dream that wakes me this morning. Before I went to sleep last night I asked for a dream. It’s when I am writing the dream out this morning that I realize that it’s my sister’s birthday. She died of cancer in 2012. Memory and dreams as tracery.
I am in a group of people on a platform. It is dark around us. It reminds me of a platform from a ropes course. In the ropes course we had to balance it. A rectangular platform on a log roller, held somewhat at the corners to keep it from dumping us entirely. A group version of a balance board. The trick is really that everyone has to stand still and only one person moves, very small amounts, until it is balanced.
But we are dancing in the dream. We are dancing, but people are uncomfortable. I am not sure why. Perhaps because we were dancing all together but individually and now there is a couple dancing. I realize that people are halting, worried.
I want them to be comfortable. I gesture to an older man. He comes towards me. His wife is there. He and I start dancing but I realize right away that this doesn’t make people more comfortable. They are less comfortable and even the other couple dancing stops. We are lit from above with darkness all around. No spot light follows us, so we move in and out of the light.
As soon as I realize that nearly everyone is uncomfortable, I stop my partner. He is an excellent dancer but that is not what is important here. I move with him back towards his wife and I sit on the platform. They sit as well. The other people around us relax. That is what they want, to sit, to talk quietly, to listen. That is what will make everyone comfortable. The others are settling around us, relieved.
This is Black Door Alley. They played yesterday for the Concerts on the Dock, a Port Townsend Main Street Program in the summer. Thursday from 5-8, live band and food carts, sponsored by local businesses and all ages present. There was a 95 year old dancing….she’s not in this picture…. This was taken during the last song.
Holy cats, am I feeling depleted! Since I got back from vacation, have worked every day including both days last weekend! Neck hurt this morning, all stiff, I need a day off! No medicine today…
And what repletes you? Walking outside and taking photographs repletes me: and wondering. The gull is hanging out with the whole flock of brant geese. They don’t seem to mind. Nice! Black and white together! And I think of Sesame Street: “One of these things is not like the other.” Really, when you get down to it, the brant each have their own individual characters too, right? Grouped by species or not.
And music and dance and singing replete me: here is a fabulous hour of boogie-woogie piano music with Daryl Davis and others. I danced to Daryl Davis in Maryland back in the 1980s! Go Daryl!!
Blogging from A to Z, my theme is happy things. The letter J for jump, jive, joy!
And jitterbug! I am a jitterbug dancer, east coast swing or 6 count swing, and lindyhop, and west coast swing. Salsa, merengue, cajun dance, two step, oh and a few clogging steps, about 6 total. I love to dance and I love the Jump Blues!
I took the photograph this morning: of an old t-shirt. We went to as many dance camps of The Savoy Swings Again as we could. There were two bands and lessons all day and I would have to increase my salt intake to keep my muscles from cramping. Deanna Bogart is still playing. And the Washington Swing Dance Committee still has a page devoted to dance!
On my last trip to the Washington DC area, my daughter said, “Let’s go dancing.” We found the DCdancenet site. We found a contra dance at the Spanish Ballroom, at Glen Echo Park. My son, his girlfriend, my daughter and I all went to the dance. The Spanish Ballroom is where I met their father and living on the west coast, I had not been back for years!
Jump, jive, joy and jitterbug! I am glad that dance is still going on, teaching, live bands and all the joy it brings!
And check this out: the same t-shirt shows up in this video of the Jiving Lindy Hoppers!
I spent much of yesterday at the Uptown Street Fair in Port Townsend. The Farmer’s Market was beautiful and busy, a second street was blocked off for craft stalls, and Lawrence Street had entertainment on stage from 11:00 until after 4:30. I finally danced myself into the ground and went home! I am a bit stiff this morning! Hooray for the bands and the tiny uptown parade, the color guard, the police and all of the people and businesses who put the fair on, came out, and shared a stunningly gorgeous day!
The Kinetic Sculptures were out, a wonderful drum group, the Port Townsend brass band, artists, dancers, buskers and lots of food.
Today is the County Picnic…..
For the Daily Prompt: trance, though I don’t think she was in a trance at all. I think the audience was entranced!
The photograph is from Thanksgiving in 2007, a friend using my camera. That is me and my daughter dancing. She was good at that lift! It’s mostly timing, rather than body weight. She jumps at the same time as I lift — and I’m jumping too!
My daughter called last night, stranded in New York City, the bus company she had set up with turning out to be very fly by night. But her brother got her a train ticket and she ran for Penn Station and now is with family! Hooray! I am thankful!
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