Last day of August and we are counting down the days until we can be back on the beach with Oonagh. The “no dogs on the beach” season used to be Memorial Day to Labor Day but many beaches have extended it from May 15 to September 15, our town included. Bet you can gue$$ why.
Photo: Vintage late 60’s/early 70’s Catalina Swimsuit
We only have one more episode left of “Brokenwood,” Season 7 and unless it gets renewed for another season, that’s it. I’ll miss that offbeat town with its memorable cast of characters — and the soundtrack, sort of folksy-country, and while I am not a fan of country music, I do enjoy the soundtrack to this series, as the country-music loving detective and his crew cruise wide open roads amidst the rolling green fields of New Zealand wine country. The music of one song is stuck in my head lately, but the lyrics set to that music are of my own making — because if I can’t remember the lyrics, I can at least remember the tune. And I rather like my own lyrics. They speak to the daydream always stuck on repeat in my head. So to kick off the week, hope you have your own good daydream to get you through to the weekend.
This is a rolling tune for wandering the dusty back roads of towns urban renewal thankfully overlooked. “I wanna live in a little country town, where the sky is big and the trees are tall, and no-body gets me down.” Haven’t figured out the rest of the story yet but sometimes I like not knowing where it’s going. How about you? Got your own ear worm?
Photo: Harvesting grapes yesterday.
Finally getting a break from the blistering heat and the lousy air quality this weekend, if the forecast is accurate — who knows anymore?
At any rate, the hops and the grapes need picking, and every year the abundance increases. People are impressed with growing these things here, but they’re not difficult really, the vines create beautiful shade, canopy, privacy and ingredients for lovely libations and more. The bounty becomes overwhelming for our little household and while I make what I can with it — tinctures, smoke blends, and grape juice, to name a few, there’s so much more that could be done — beer, wine, jelly, jam, natural dye, pillows, and stuffed grape leaves. Living in a transient community, it’s tough to find makers and takers to share the surplus with. Unless, it’s tomatoes.
My friend’s been after me for a while to join her in a couple of dance classes at the local Senior Center and I finally went yesterday. It was so much fun, good to move, with lots of sweat and I was in front of the fan for goodness sake! The teacher had a great playlist from soul, blues, jazz, rock, disco and more. One of my favorites, was written for a German Threepenny Opera in 1928 by Bertoldt Brecht, Marc Blitzstein and Kurt Weill. The era fascinates me for many reasons as does the story, and there have been many versions — Sonny Rollins, Bobby Darin, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald (whose live version won a Grammy award) — of the tune amongst several artists. You might know the song as “Mack the Knife.”
“Now Jenny Diver, ho, ho, yeah, Sukey Tawdry
Ooh, Miss Lotte Lenya and old Lucy Brown
Oh, the line forms on the right, babe
Now that Macky’s back in town”
I used to work as a job coach in my early 40’s and in some instances, clients began work before stores opened for business. This was how I learned there was such a thing as mall walking — mostly among the “active older adult” and “retiree” communities. I used to joke with friends, “Shoot me if I ever turn into a mall walker.” Fast forward a handful of years and Snowmageddon hits, and what with Southern New Englanders having no clue how to properly drive in or plow snow, I was stir crazy from lack of exercise, and there I was — doing what else? Mall walking! Granted it was temporary due to weather and miserable walking conditions, and we used to do laps around the rest of the gang, and I despise malls and shopping but it served its purpose, and some of the regulars were really quite sweet, just trying to enjoy some camaraderie and beat the clock that is our aging bodies.
Just a quote from one of my latest reads. The book 300 Arguments, by Sarah Manguso, had several good ones, and while I’ll be returning it to the library, it’s one of those books that I may have to purchase, her musings are that good, as far as I’m concerned. So today I leave you with one:
“Talking with someone who reveals nothing, I hear myself madly filling the emptiness with information about myself.” Can totally relate to that, how about you?
Once I recovered from my initial indignation after I realized my memory lapse regarding Shakespearean sexual slang and repartee, I started thinking about how my error inspired some rather sweet erotic writing. Like all writing there’s good and bad, but Shakespeare’s sauciness really does lend itself rather well to the genre, and I may have to reconsider. I’ve always wanted to have a radio show and with the advent and ease of podcasts, it could be rather fun to offer an erotic story hour subscription, reading contributions sent in by listeners. Just a little Monday morning brainstorming.
Series II in French Postcards is now available – NSFW versions of this photo.
For some reason I’ve always sung the song as “Insy Binsy” Spider rather than “Itsy Bitsy,” perhaps just because I have a tendency to mangle song lyrics, even those of nursery songs. At any rate, I am one of those people who doesn’t kill insects indiscriminately — especially spiders. I will pick them up however I can and put them outside. With an old house and gardens, we have resident spiders with the beautiful webs they spin — those that are in windows or outside glisten and sparkle with morning dew, and sunlight highlights the intricacy of the lacy weave. When they are woven in inconvenient places, the latest one being across the top of the garden gate, I do try to be careful not to wreck the spider’s work too much, and at the same time also find myself apologizing to the spider in case I do. Anyone else engage with the creatures of the natural world like this?