Live Music...

I will sacrifice a little comfort for some good Reggae. During the spring/summer in Knoxville there are wonderful free concerts at Market Square called "Sundown in the City." Music starts at 7:00 and lasts until around 10:30 or so. I live a short walk away. I heard Little Feat, a couple of Thursdays ago, was even more packed. My affection for reggae music began with Bob Marley and also the title cut from a Robert Palmer album, Pride, in 1983 (the memory is definitely still there, for now). Look at the crowd. See the gray hair? That's one of the things I like about reggae. :)

And Then There Were Five!

I'm sure that my name is well known among the community of homeless feral felines in my neighborhood. Convos among cats are probably like this: "Yeah, let's hit Lucy Blue's house. There's ALWAYS food there and if there isn't we can just meow at her front door and she'll come out with food. She's SO easy." Two years ago I fed a feral mama cat who had four kittens. I ended up trapping 3 of the kittens when they were a year old and got them sterilized, vaccinated, etc. Adopted out all 3 of them. The fourth one, however, got away from me and bit the fire out of my right hand in the process. (And he had the gall to keep showing up in later months for food). After several doctor visits and major antibiotics, it was determined that the infection in my pinkie finger did not reach the bone and I'd be able to properly bend my finger. Whew! I had learned my lesson. No more missions of trapping feral kittens. But history being history, I couldn't just let the 2 young kittens that showed up at my house go unfed. I soon noticed one was pregnant (she herself still a baby) but when I noticed she had given birth and then never saw her offspring, I just figured she inadvertently stepped on them, killed them, didn't have the mother instinct yet, etc. She and her sibling live under the house next door to mine. Last night she presented her kittens to me but stayed close just in case I tried to touch them. This morning I noticed that they were still there, all curled up, and it looked like rain again so I walked right up to them. One of them hissed at me (which is SO funny considering how very tiny they are right now) and wobbled under the house and 2 more followed. That weird beige one, however, just stayed put. Poor thing. The runt. I picked him up with no resistance and placed him under the house with his siblings. He doesn't walk very well.
So now I'm all caught up in feline drama again. I'm not happy about it. I love animals but I don't enjoy the accompanying stress of worrying about these young kittens wandering out into the road, etc. And, you know, these 4 will just turn into 8 then 12, 20, MORE feral cats in the neighborhood. What to do, what to do.......

Don't Lick That!

I've been thinking about tolerance. I understand and appreciate this word much more as I grow older. Without tolerance, we’re (meaning the world) sunk. Don’t you agree? I'm aware that my outlooks and views about many things in life are changing, for the positive, as I move through the back half of my life. When I was younger I was far less tolerant and also fairly conservative. Now, I consider myself a liberal Democrat (although, I must say, I’ve always voted Democrat....except that one time for Reagan....but hey, I was young and didn’t know any better). I was also far more concerned about material things that just aren’t important to me anymore. I can honestly say that I don’t care if I ever own a piece of new furniture again in my life. I just don’t mind used things. In fact, I even prefer older pieces of furniture. I feel the same way about cars. As long as I have something that gets me from point A to point B, I'm satisfied. I have no problem wearing clothes that other people give to me when they're done wearing them. None at all. I have several things that I wear to work every week that I call my "dead lady" (no disrespect) clothes because a friend of mine gave them to me after a tall friend of hers died unexpectedly. Since I’ve never been married, most of the appliances and things in my "household" are used. You know, that brings up another subject. When a girl never marries, she misses out on that wonderful American custom known as the wedding shower. I’ve attended my fair share and bought nice gifts for friends. I used to be a bit jealous of friends who outfitted their home with shiny new appliances, matching towel sets, new sheets, etc. All right, all right, I was flat out jealous. I got beyond that feeling many years ago, however, when I realized that 90% of those wedding showers led to marriages that ended in divorce. I’m not sure all the shiny new things were worth it. :) But wait a minute. Tolerance. Things I used to tolerate, I just don’t care to tolerate anymore. For me, this is a move in the right direction. I can’t say I never let anyone "run over" me these days but I do try my best to always stick up for myself. Alternatively, things I used to think I’d never tolerate, I now gladly tolerate. Take guacamole, for instance. (Stupid example, you say? So what? This is my little corner). As recently as two years ago I was pretty sure that you’d never get me to eat it. Had I tried it? Well, no. But that’s beside the point. It’s cold, gooey and green. Isn’t that enough reason? Now, I merely mourn the years I could have been enjoying guacamole but for a pre-formed opinion based on unfounded and unproven facts. Now, artichoke dip is another matter entirely. I will never, ever, try it and I don’t mind telling you that my decision is based purely on smell. For me, a proven fact. That’s right. Smell. I’d describe what it smells like to me but you might not be able to tolerate it.

Strings and Things.....

Heard the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet last night. What amazing talent! If you ever get the chance.....go see them (www.lagq.com). Four men, 25 strings (one had a 7-string guitar). Beautiful music. My son’s father played classical guitar when he was younger. I thought he was very talented. So when my son showed an interest in guitar (this was after the clarinet experience), I bought him one and he began lessons. He now also has an acoustic electric guitar and he loves to play (around on) both guitars. Unfortunately, however, his paternal musical instrument talent genes got all messed up with my lack thereof (3 years of piano lessons and all I can play is "Santa Claus is Coming to Town").
I spent last weekend whipping through about 200 pages of typing. Fortunately, the Rossini Festival (and Italian Street Fair) was held Saturday. It was a nice break to walk around and look at all the crafts and listen to some music. We ate at the booth for my favorite Italian restaurant. And I learned something. There are port-o-potties that are painted orange and have a big "T" on them. I'm not exactly sure what, but there's just something wrong about that.
The last meeting of the International Literary Colloquy was today (discussing When the Birds Stopped Singing: Life in Ramallah Under Siege). We had a delicious curry chicken and cous cous lunch with flat bread and spice cake for dessert. Next fall we've chosen Latin American as our target area.
I formed a little book club that meets once a month at my house (I'd tell you our name but you might die laughing). I'd love it if my book club gals would also choose a country or "theme" of books, maybe in groups of three. But if we adopted that rule, we'd be violating Rule No. 1; which is, of course, that there are no rules. :/

Dog Gone Blued

Ah, Spring. So nice to see you.
Two movies viewed this week. Crash. Make sure you see it. Antares. Austrian and not great (although that has nothing to do with it being Austrian). Antares included several graphic sex scenes. We were warned prior to viewing. Being grateful that my friend, Hua (from China), had chosen this week not to attend, we enjoyed some grapes and chocolate as the movie began. Just after the first "graphic" scene, Hua walks in. :/
Crash is a work of art. Diverse scenes, diverse discussion. Good stuff....