Pas De Chat De Broadway

The Broadway Dance is performed by chorus boys
( mostly males ) and chorus girls.
Broadway dance is doing the steps together while smiling wildly
Broadway dance is to cover up for the stars who most likely can't even walk.
Broadway dancers are called gypsies because they
like real gypsies, wear cute and colorful outfits
and they all, males and females, have ear rings.

From Clarice and Mr. Q's Guide To The Dance And Other Movements.

Queenly advice

I dream a lot, and some dreams are weirder than others.
Last night I dreamed that the the queen of England came to visit at my house here in PV.
There she was, a tiny lady all in blue and red with hat and matching shoes and handbag.
She entered the house and sat on one of my dining chairs, a little ways from the table, feet neatly crossed at the ankles and the handbag in her lab.
I am sorry, I said to her, I have nothing in the house. Would you like a glass of water ?
No thank you, she said, graciously. I came here because I had to talk to you.
Talk to me ?
And then I woke up and and now I will never ever know what she wanted to talk to me about.

Toby the Schnauzer is getting older, and as happens to all of us, sometimes he has to go during the night.
And unlike the Worthless Ones, he will not go inside the house.
He will stand by the door of my bedroom, the one leading out to the terrace, and say
woof
until I wake up and open the door for him.
I leave the door open and go back to bed and, with luck, back to sleep till I hear his distinctive woof again, only this time at a different door.
Now this has happened too many times to be coincidental, but I don't mind.
After all our years together I don't mind getting up and open another door for him.
What worries me is, who is going to open the other door for me when I start to forget which door to use.

Evolution of Alan 1963-2003

A Parallel Universe

Living in Mexico is, at times, like living in a parallel universe.
I had a notice in my P.O.box, telling me it was urgent that I pay my fees and to do that I would need a copy of a household bill and a copy of identification, passport or such like.
Today, armed with all this I stopped by the post office, which is being re-painted in a vile Pepto-Bismol pink.
In the middle of the floor of the room that used to house the mail boxes, a young girl was sorting mail on a rickety wooden table and miraculously found my mail and said
Now you pay
And I went to the other end of the room, where some office workers were lounging on chairs, chatting and looking a wee bit annoyed at being interrupted and said
I would like to pay my fees.
You can't pay today, said one of the workers.
Whyever not ? said I.
Because, today we have no facturas and no facturas, no pay. Come back Monday.
And so I left, did the rest of my shopping and went home to find, on my gate, a note from the telephone company.
I have been waiting two days for them to show, and finally to-day, the day I decide to go to town, is the day they show up.
Please, the note said, call this number 24 hours before the next appointment.
CALL THEM !!!!!!
I had to walk for miles to a public phone to report, I had my neighbors call them, because the frigging line is DEAD
CALL THEM.......... duh.
I calmed myself down and grabbed my cell phone and dialed the number.
My phone is out of money.
It too is dead.
What else, I wonder, can go wrong.

The Daily Wine

About three in the afternoon I start to get ready to fix the doggie dinners and start eying the - as of yet- unopened bottle of wine, or more correctly, carton of wine.
Surely, I say to myself, surely I can have a glass of wine now, it is after three, close to four and almost five.
And if I get the food for the mutts ready early, why, I ask, should I not enjoy my wine a little early too ?
So I do .
And the mutts get fed and I have my first glass of wine
and suddenly things are not so bad after all.
Here's to the early and well deserved first glass of wine of the day
cheers.

Beans

At the grain store, looking for Lima beans, I pointed to a bag that contained what looked like the beans and said
what is this then ?
Ava, said the young man, not a bean.
It looked close enough to the Lima so I bought a quarter of a pound and said to the young man
please write the name on the bag
and with a felt tip pen and in big letters he carefully wrote
H-A-B-A
Small wonder I have such trouble with the name of my street named after the late star, AVA Gardner, with their silent H and the labial B it can cause a lot of misunderstandings.
Oh, and according to my search on the internet, Haba is another name for Lima beans.
So there.

The Postman's Song

I was young, I was emotional and I was stupid and I found myself stranded on the Greek island of Hydra the summer of 63.
That was the second year of the wildly popular Song of the Postman, everybody in Greece singing or humming it.
I heard it over and over and it became part of that painful summer.
Here I am, 46 years later trying to find the song, and I think I succeeded.
The internet is wondrous thing; I can now listen and recall that summer, I can hear that song sung by no less than Agnes Baltsa
and I remember
and I am glad that I am not that young or that stupid anymore.
Still emotional, though.

Sweet Memories

I remember as a student of the Kunsthaandvaerkerskolen in Copenhagen, I and some of my fellow students would, after school, go to a cafeteria, where we would share an order of Pommes Frites
and a bowl of Sauce Bernaise to dip them in.
I wonder what they are serving to starving students now, what with the leveling of taste and borders
deep fried potatoes and tomato ketchup ?