As we ask the lyrical question, “When will I wake up? Escape from this crazy dream?” (Los Lonely Boys) N.B.: need to cut back on that morning cigar habit.
Bunch of unrelated stuff:
Blue Moon was loosely defined as a 4th full moon in a 3-month period until the 1946 Sky and Telescope came up with the definition of two full moons in one month. The web is useful for useless information like that.
Talked to people on the phone, typed scopes, typed answers to questions. Went for walk, and I stopped at Austin own Mexic-Atre Museum for the Mexican Calendar Legends exhibition.
I took a couple of notes, as there was some breathtaking works of art. Two items stood out. Maybe more. One was picture of a light brown haired woman with a bow and arrow, I think, most folks would call her blond, and she was standing in front of an antelope, I’m guessing here, but the title to the piece was “Diana, the Huntress.” Mixing a little mythology here, but it worked.
The Mexican tricolor was quite visible, along with the Virgen de Guadalupe, as was something else that stood out. Betty Page? She ain’t got nothing on any of them models depicted. Nipples. Seemed to be a cold season, for all the years concerned.
Instead of an 8-inch square reproduction, some of the pictures were up to five feet tall, maybe more. Perhaps “Mexican Calendar Art” isn’t common everywhere, but it’s pretty endemic in my world. And pretty amazing. The use of sunlight in Veracruz Natives (1950), or the simple, classic lines of a nude in La Estrellita (1946).
After the museum, it was a guilt trip. I’ve been playing phone tag with my parents, and while Ma Wetzel was in the mountains with spotty cell service? I let her know I’d need years of therapy for my own mother hanging up me.
“I didn’t hang up on you, the phone dropped the call,” she said.
Once in a while, it’s nice to throw a little of that back, “My own mother. Hanging up on me. And I’ve been so worried about you.”
Swim in the creek. Drink a shot of espresso. Saunter off to Baby A’s to meet a couple that I’ll be marrying at the end of the month. Sagittarius and Aries. Oh this is fun, a “pre-marital consultation with the minister (me).” Not joking, everyone’s mom called during that meeting. In-laws and out-laws. Deep East Texas meet New York City.
“Mom, we’re talking to the guy who’s going to marry us, okay?”
It rained like a cow urinating on a flat rock, but after happy hour was over, so was the rain. Once again, I sauntered off in one direction, got a call, and turned around to meet Bubba Sean at Sandy’s. There’s a reason why I stay off of Barton Springs Road whenever possible. I ran into a Cancer, an Aquarius, a Leo & her Libra, and finally, Mr. Astrowhore dot org. We were watching a drama unfold while eating ice cream, in front of Sandy’s when I saw a familiar visage in the front seat of a mini-van, some of my suburban friends. Libra, Libra, Aries son. Small world. Sooner or later, everyone turns up on Barton Springs Road, I guess.
Or maybe only once in a blue moon.