Kick up your heels.

"Obsessions with self-preservation
Faded when I threw my fear away
It's not a thing you can imagine
You either lose your fear
Or spend your life with one foot in the grave.
Is God the last romantic?" (over the rhine)

This weekend I attended a lovely celebration. Dusk fell over the neighborhood, the windows of the Wachsmuth urban homestead glowed, there was fried chicken and cheesecake. We stirred up the dust, kicked the hay bales and alamand-lefted like there was no tomorrow. That’s what I’m talkin about. Square dancing has definitely improved as I have aged. In case you were wondering, here's something interesting.

Also, on Saturday, I heard something happy.

Autumn is just a few thousand acorn plunks away (more specifically, 40 days). That deserves some good ol Pablo:

"Nosotros cantaremos con el vino fragoso
de la tierra: golpearemos las copas del Otono,
y la guitarra o el silencio iran trayendo
lineas de amor, lenguaje de rios que no existen,
estrofas adoradas que no tienen sentido."

("We'll sing along with the sharp wine
of the earth: we'll knock back the glasses of Autumn
and the guitar or the silence will go on briniging
love-lines, the languages of non-existent rivers,
well-beloved stanzas with no sense at all.") pablo neruda