Morning all:

Last night it started immediately after dinner and the ‘before the thunderstorms start’ walk with Shang. A cup of espresso and then I transformed myself into a pretty decent reincarnation of Lucille Ball. My shock of red hair (compliments of the costume party three weeks ago), an apron, vacuum cleaner in one hand, a damp dishcloth over the shoulder, and a new can of Pledge in my pocket. You see my vaca….dreary solo days are almost over—Marcia is coming home this week.

It dawned on me later that I was quite fortunate to not have one of the many ‘obscure environmental cause petition/fund raising effort’ coeds that frequently come through our neighborhood knock on the door while I was in my full cleaning regalia. It could have been quite embarrassing.
Me: “Yes hello”
Petition/fund raiser lady: “Hello”……long pause…..”Excuse me, but are you just happy to see me or is that merely Pledge in your pocket?”

Last Saturday I did finally complete our taxes. In celebration I bought myself a last-minute ticket to see a choral production at our Aronoff Center for the Arts and have been delighted with my choice all week. A local composer, originally from India, wrote a choral composition entitled Shanti, A Journey of Peace. The word Shanti means peace. Not so much peace as war and peace, but an internal and universal all-encompassing peace. India with its 5000 year history has an enormously rich culture that has, over the eons, assimilated the various thinking brought in by conquering groups.

All of this was expressed musically, and how! A massive 140 voice choir assembled from the Cincinnati Indian community, plus Muse – Cincinnati’s Women’s choir, the Martin Luther King coalition choir, and the choir of St. John’s Universalist Church—totaling 200+ voices. Accompanying this was a Western Orchestral and an Eastern Orchestral ensemble, and over thirty dancers. It was an amazing night.

I did look a little out of place with my leather bomber jacket and blue jeans among about 1500 ladies dressed in the finest silk saris ever seen, an amazing sea of color. All of this color was broken up by tall turbaned Sikh men, their Kirpans jutting out of their waistbands. Cincinnati’s Indian community was out in force.

I struggled with the lyrics, all sung in Indian. For example, this 7th century refrain “The eyes that beheld the dark-complexioned Krishna eating butter; may those eyes never sight upon anything else.” Were sung as follows: “Kondal Vannanai Kanda Kangal Matrondinai Kaanave Vennai Unnavaiyanai Kanda Kangal Matrondinai Kanave” Heavy duty stuff.

Last weekend Jason, Marin, and I went to Zips, our old neighborhood pub for a fine lunch, followed by a visit to the Home Depot. On the drive home, Marin, who’s not quite three, mentioned bathroom needs. As the need grew more urgent Jason struck a deal, hold it till we get to Opa’s house and you can stand on the old tree-stump in the backyard and pee there. In a cold stiff wind, standing on that old stump, his little hiney (the size of a tea-cup) hanging out, a grinning Marin proudly exclaimed “I have never peed this far before”. He won his first contest!

Wednesday I meet up with Marcia in Las Vegas where we’ll spend a few days. I am anxious to see the video tape showing the killing of the rat in Marcia’s room. This, her last weekend in Tonga, Marcia and Adrianne are spending on a little resort island called Mala. From all reports, aside the heat and humidity, the ladies had a great visit. The party is over Adrianne, back to work for you!

Happy anniversary Vince and Kirstin, and happy birthday brother Art—keep it up and you’ll eventually catch me.

Make it a great week everyone.
Cheers,
Dirk