A few photos:
Cello - little brother, mad into cars, tough cookie, sweetie pie.
Corinne, her nephews Gavin, Cach and Cello:
Grandpa, Abuela and the guys!
Last night David and I went to a Poetry Slam in Belfast. It was "open to the public," not just to attend but to participate and I thought about bringing poems to read, but was intimidated. Later I felt very humbled; about 12 or 15 poets participated and for at least 4 or 5 of them, it was their first "slam" experience. I did learn that they do a slam every other month, so I can participate in August if I have the nerve. David (along with 4 other "randomly" chosen audience members) was chosen to be a "judge". The judges use Olympic style cards to give scores between 1.0 and 10.0. It was fun and mostly but not entirely tongue in cheek "judging". In the end, weird how the judges' numbers came out. After 3 rounds and a lot of "scores" with decimal points in them, there was less than a 1 point difference between the person who won and the person who came in second. Then we drove home through heavy fog along the coast; a little scary, but arrived safe and sound.
Today we finally had sunshine. After relaxing with coffee, I went out to mow the backyard with our push mower, got out our electric weed wacker, trimmed edges and wacked those hard weeds that stick up throughout the yard the mower won't cut. After cooling off inside, and schmoozing with David when he came home for lunch, I vacuumed the living room, dining room and kitchen, cleaned the bathroom.
I was putting the vacuum away when I slipped on the rug in our hall, lost my balance, and put out my arm to catch myself. Unfortunately a broken brass hook on the wall caught and slashed my forearm instead. Hurt like hell - and blood! I took one look, saw a big ragged gash and a lot of blood and thought for sure I'd cut an artery. I grabbed a clean kitchen towel, wrapped it tightly around the gash. David was back at work until after 4:00, I didn't think I could drive my manual transmission truck with the "tourniquet" on and our neighbors' car was gone. So I called 911. About 10 minutes later the EMTs arrived. They took off the dish towel, and the bleeding had more or less stopped. No artery, just a messy gash. They said I needed stitches. Since I didn't have any way to get to the hospital ER, they took me. A couple of excellent nurses, a doctor to suture me and a tetanus shot (with Pertussis vaccine included - apparently there's a new wave of whooping cough, who knew?).
A couple of hours, 7 stitches and a big bandage later, I'm back home and feeling foolish. Thinking if I had had the guts to look at the cut, I might have skipped calling 911 and the ambulance ride and figured out how to get to the ER on my own for the stitches. Oh well, live and learn.
Wishing I didn't have to work tomorrow. That's the problem with taking a week off of work - it's just long enough to make you NOT want to go back... Next weekend there are synagogue services to look forward to and the soup kitchen on Sunday. The following weekend is the North Atlantic Blues Festival here in Rockland. We bought our weekend passes today. Meanwhile, work, work and more work, fireworks, fireworks and ore fireworks (poor Ella! Ella HATES fireworks and the teenager next door has been "practicing").
Peace ... from a worn out, cowardly and clumsy poet-friend in Maine.
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