I haven't written a new blog post for a few days, and it's time. I've posted re-runs every day for a long string of hot days now. My computer is playing Neil Young's Harvest Moon, which puts me in the mood for writing. That song keeps reappearing in my life. You probably have a song like that, one that keeps showing up at various times, with memories tied to them.
*Dancing on the patio of Bridges Restaurant with my then-guy, while a solo guitarist plays and sings the song.
*Hearing it in college, hearing it at bonfires while the musically gifted get out their guitars and keep us entertained.
*Adding it to a play list as I suffer through the pandemic by MYSELF.
That was hard, dreaming up things to do all day long, looking at the clock and seeing that it's still 11:00 a.m. and I've already cleaned out another closet.
*Listening to music in a park with some of my favorite people (but never family members who are uncomfortable with my singing and my dancing, not because I'm not good, but because I am.
*Wondering why I said no to the woman willing to take a video as I flew around the concrete dance floor seven years ago when both hips still liked me.
But I digress.
The point of this blog is the crazy month I've had. Black mold is now abated and the new shower is done (just a couple little tweaks for Monday), me getting a surprise Facebook post that a well-known author and sort-of friend was speaking at Rakestraw with her two new books. I popped in on my way to a dancing venue, stayed for her talk, watched all the boys and a few girls play her Two Truths and a Lie game (from one of the stories). It was so fun to see the kids ages five to ten sit there so interested in her talk and especially her characters. I got the last copy of Dog Town, read it the next morning while the temperature kept going up and I had to dog sit while the contractors worked away. After lunch I read the Hank Hooperman book. I even got a recommendation to read Yellow Face from the bookstore staff (overheard her talking about it).
I danced a couple of outdoor venues these past two weeks and then had pain in the heel of my foot. Uh-oh, it feels like plantar fasciitis is making a comeback. I'd better find a Super Ball and get busy rolling it under my foot.
I did other fun things, like selling a young woman $130 worth of dishes. She was stunned at my collection (her word), inventory (my word). If I only get one good customer a week during this slow summertime sale, it's enough to keep me from packing it all up.
"Is this your hobby?" she asked.
"More like my side hustle," I said. I didn't go into how I buy the stuff at a fifth of the price, and my prices are low!
I might spend my time better by writing, but I've never been able to pull off a novel. I'm stuck in Picture Book land where the stories are no more than 600 or 700 words, and the audience is young. I also review picture books, and they keep getting more and more sophisticated, not really for four year olds anymore.
My dogs are having health issues. The black dog needs to be walked as early as possible during this heat wave. The air quality is bad today, too, because of some distant fire with the winds picking up and causing higher-than-usual fire danger. Another dog constantly coughs. The third dog has seizures.
I watched a video for the City of Berkeley, describing the five-foot rule, that houses with nothing flammable within five feet of their foundation can be saved in an urban fire, compared to a house with flammable debris within that space.
Two days ago, when it was only in the 80s in the morning, not the 90s, I went out front and dug up two ornamental grasses that were directly under a bedroom window. They are highly flammable. I was going to dump them and then realized they might do better at the beach. Another thing that happened as I walked a strip mall this week, I passed Lucky's grocery store, and the sign out front said Manager's Special, plastic pots for $1.99. The checker Joey rang up the two big ones at $16.99, then over-rode the price and changed it to $1.99 after I showed him the sign. I bought all the colorful ones (six in total) and left the gray and terra cotta ones behind. In my hot town, the plastic pots don't do well, but at the beach they are fine (unless a tree limb falls on them). Now the pots are filled with ornamental grasses, ready for a ride to the beach where they'll be planted in sand ( nix that – gophers, they'll stay in pots).
It's been a fun time recapping the past two weeks!
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