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A labor of love

I keep forgetting it’s not summer anymore, and sunny days like yesterday keep goading me into foolish actions. Last night Marta, Kelly and I drove to Golden Gardens and froze our ever-loving asses off. I tried to play guitar as we watched the beautiful sunset, a deep red blush over the entire length of the Sound, but I met with limited success because I couldn’t feel or move my hands very well. Eventually we found some hippies who wanted to share their fire and their food, and snacked on hummus and bread for a while.

Marta, Laurel, and I went back to my house for a movie while Kelly picked her little sister up from the airport. All I’ll say about the movie is that if you haven’t yet seen Amelie, watch it before seeing He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. Otherwise you’ll never buy Audrey Tautoo’s performance in the former.

Kelly arrived back at Marta’s house around 11:15 with Lindsay, the sister in question, in tow. She’s been buttering up Lindsay and I to meet each other for at least a year, telling each of us how amazing the other is, which put no small amount of pressure on each of us. Despite this, I think we got along pretty well. Lindsay is basically Kelly, just smaller. If you know Kelly that description will suffice, and if not… I can’t help you. It was a little eerie to have a miniature version of the craziest girl I know wandering around causing mischief, but watching the two of them interact made it all worthwhile.

I should probably mention that a few of Kelly’s friends from Burning Man are fire spinners. One spins fire with a pair of big felt balls on chains called “poi”. You soak them in kerosene, light them up, and whirl them in interesting patterns until they go out, hopefully not lighting yourself on fire in the meantime. Kelly has been practicing, unlit of course, for the last week or so, and “burned” for the first time last night. I was a little nervous, given that the last time I watched her fling about her practice poi, a pair of big rubber dice, she whapped herself in the back of the head and the ass so frequently that at times it looked intentional. I’m pleased to report that she did fine – spun the flaming balls like a pro and only hit herself a couple times, never long enough to burst into flame. Her friend John Paul actually is a pro, and put on a show I would have paid to see. He spun in Kelly’s (and Marta’s) backyard, and the next-door neighbors, sitting on their porch, were duly impressed.

Hopefully you’ve noticed the new “photos” pane on the right there, with a random image linked to its page (to refresh hit F5 on Windows and don’t talk to me if you’re on a Mac). All the photos I have are now up, but expect more in the semi-near future. Maybe.

Posted in Musings.


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