Remember, when you think of those who gave their all for their country:
Archive for May, 2015
I took Marion to Bette Midler’s show at the Pepsi Center last night. It was her only appearance here as part of her Divine Intervention tour. I’d never seen her before in person, although I have seen both of her concert movies. We had very good seats, and it was a very good show.
I’d certainly be willing to see her in concert again.
Driving home this evening, I heard a radio advertisement for an art exhibition this weekend. The advertisement promised “thousands of pieces of art from more than a hundred forty plus artists!”
Pardon me for micro-aggressing with my command of the English language, but either the “more than” or the “plus” is redundant. “A hundred forty plus” is, by definition, more than 140. Therefore, the advertisement claimed that there would be more than more than 140 artists represented. Since “more than” does not imply an upper limit, you really can’t get more than “more than,” unless you’re going to get into infinities.
to be at Ukefest, I might have been tempted to attend this, which is taking place in my old neighborhood. As it is, though, Ukefest wins hands-down.
I’m not certain I want to know what this one means.
It was a strange and disjointed one. What I remember is walking through a city, then being in the dark, industrial-looking basement of a hotel with a couple friends. We wanted to go to the top floor, and I took the first elevator, while they decided to wait for the express elevator.
Since I was not on the express, my elevator car quickly got very crowded. A very short man who looked something like Pharrell Williams batted his eyes at me and tried to convince me that my t-shirt and jeans were actually women’s clothes, so I must therefore be a woman who was open to his advances. As if.
When I got off the elevator, it opened up on a large park. Hula music was coming from some unseen source, and a group of nuns were performing a hula dance. Nearby, a bunch of tourists in Hawaiian shirts were doing something like a Maori haka in time with the music. I moved over to some ruins, where I told a young boy clambering over them that he was about to step on some snakes, which had frilly growths on their heads that put me in mind of the seahorse that evolved to blend in with seaweed.
After that, I somehow acquired a ukulele, and tried to lead another group of tourists in performing Donovan’s song, “Happiness Runs,” as a round.
Then the alarm went off.
I’ve had my hummingbird feeder up for a little more than a week. Saw my first hummingbird last night. I’ve heard a couple near work. It would be nice if my feeder drew more of them.