Body, Mind, Spirit
Funny I should choose the color red during a week where I was almost brazen about taking pictures. The red ball of whatever in the planter, the red swing next to the picture window with the curtains pulled back, the front door with floor-to-ceiling sidelights, the side garden, and the two buckets someone was using to wash their white Toyota Camry were all pictures that required some nerve to take–at least for an introvert who prefers solitary walks.
My walk on Sunday derailed almost immediately when a young female stranger and I had to wrangle a lost dog into a corner so we could lure him back to his house. His name was Sparkles, which if you ask Mikey is as good a reason as any to run away from home. I called Sparkles’s home since his tags didn’t have an address, and I had the supreme pleasure of speaking to the teenaged boy of the house. Such a charming lad! Full of enthusiasm and zest for life! Quick witted, too.
“Hi, we have Sparkles.”
“Your dog. We have your dog, Sparkles?”
“Okay, yeah. Yeah!”
“Right. We can walk your dog Sparkles to you if you just let us know where you are.”
“Oh! Yeah, right. Okay. Um, so where am I…”
“Just an address and we’re good. Like, the numbers and the street. That’s all we need…”
“Okay, yeah. Um, 5280 Springfield. Do you know where that is?”
I told him I did, but even if I didn’t I would have driven to a gas station and bought a map before I accepted any sort of guidance from that hormone riddled amoeba. There are glaciers in Antarctica moving faster than that boy’s neurotransmitters. Within 10 seconds I decided, using all my cynical wisdom, that he was one or all of the following: (1) watching TV, (2) stoned, (3) a teenager, or (4) embarrassed his mom named a male dog Sparkles.
My young female stranger co-dog wrangler offered to take Sparkles back to his castle, and I happily allowed her to head off into the sunset with him tucked under her arm like a football. I had more pressing matters to attend to. A picture of my feet standing next to something red wasn’t going to just magically appear on instagram.
Song of the Week
Pandora snuck in a Doo-Wop song one day last week, and I had so much fun I searched around until I found a 50s station I liked. I’ve been listening to 50s Rock n’ Roll ever since. There was a period from junior high until my junior year in high school that I listened to 50s music more than a child of the 70s/80s should. Southern California people, I listened to K-Earth 101.1 all the time. Twenty years later and I still remember almost every word to every song. I don’t know why this music makes me happy, but it does.
It wasn’t until I found this video on Youtube that I realized Little Bitty Pretty One by Thurston Harris (a cover–Bobby Day recorded the original) was in the movies Christine and Matilda. I haven’t seen either one, so the all-out war in the comment section over which movie should be associated with the song came as a surprise. People eventually resorted to insults. Insults! All over a song from 1957 with, quite frankly, some sketchy lyrics. My favorite comment, which I now can’t find, went something along the lines of: Everyone just shut up and enjoy the music.
Little Bitty Pretty One— Thurston Harris