IT WAS LOVELY

The cats, mon, the cats. Even with a good dose of cat nip, they are still looking for territory on the bed. Oona wants to sit on the computer lap table, but that won't fly with me. Butterscotch is just looking for a cozy spot on the edge of the bed. They are all happier, as am I, having had the house sprayed and all with fresh applications of flea poison. I'm still getting a few bites, but things are better.

Will you just look at that bad attitude? She hates all of us who thwart her desires.

There was a point today where I thought I would write that I was in a good mood ... I know ... so rare.     I did have a remarkably, noteworthily fun weekend. But then I came back to the Springs house and the mom and the grief and drudgery and ... well, gentle readers, my mellow was harshed,

I slept quite late on Sunday, however, the operative word there is slept. As we know, successful capture of the elusive sleep cycle is cause for a least small celebration. This did set me back from leaving for my overnight in Ventura by a good two hours. I have been neglecting the garden as I have mentioned, and the hothothellhot weather demanded some plant kindness so I did a good water.

I got to Ventura just before gig time. DH met me at the hotel she had so kindlygenerouslywondrously obtained for me. Before we hit Amigos Cantina to see The Tossers, we stopped by a terrific new brewery, Leashless. Likely, it is dog friendly. The beer was superb, worship the brewers good. And Deb and I had time to do a smattersplatter of catching up before we hit the dance floor at Amigos for the next two hours.

So much fun. The Tossers only play British music, but, as we all know, that is a rich vein. I don't even know what they were playing as we walked in, but we were dancing before we entered the bar. I don't dance enough. And neither do you. You are called upon to pogo, even though your knees would prefer you didn't. I was a sweat monster, even given that I was wearing a fairly light sundress (it's polyester though, and I am pretty sure that was engineered to suffocate people). The vibe was stellar. The dance floor was never vacant.

I was asked to dance by men several times. This was quite odd. I really can't remember the last time a stranger asked me to dance. I demurred a bit, not to reject them, but because I need a breather and I am a bit shy in those interactions. They looked so rejected that I relented each time and gave them their money's worth.

There's such an adrenalin and endorphin high you get from good dancing and great music. Not so easy to come down from. JF and DM and I went out for their dinner and breather after the show, but it was a solid crash by 10:00.

Okay, time for bed and Middlemarch. This poem is not particularly related to these ravings, but I found it a good one.

GREEN BEHIND THE EARS

I was still slightly
fuzzy in shady spots
and the tenderest lime.
It was lovely, as I
look back, but not
at the time. For it is
hard to be green and
take your turn as flesh.
So much freshness
to unlearn.

— Kay Ryan, The Best of It: New and Selected Poems, New York, Grove Press, 2010