Changes, Visitations, Music

The Police: I forgot how much I enjoy big concerts, the whole lost in the groovy crowd, the whole being one with strangers for a few hours, the power of the sound. As you know or would guess, The Police reunion tour is a greatest hits tour. Which is fine. In fact, some of the new arrangements of the songs are both surprising and very strong. The layers of Sting's many ventures over the years work their way in here and there. It's fresh, and familiar. Which ain't no easy mix. -- Interesting to note as well: the benefits of yoga and other soulful exercises. Sting looks like himself. Vibrant, taut, in motion. But, Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland look and feel very middle aged, a little haggard even. Which, takes nothing away from their performances. Vibrant, taut, in motion. -- What was not V, T, I M was the crowd. Lots of these folks were standing, or sitting, and seemed, well, restricted. Too conscious of being at a concert they were too mainstream to attend when young, or of the fact that they had to get to work again the next day, or that they had grown up. They were not taking the opportunity to meld into a large group of very happy people. Speed, The Woman, TJ and I however were in motion. It reminds me there are people who are alive, and people who live. The shift from adjective to verb being rather key. Pics up once I locate my camera, which is probably lost in my car.

Visitations: Andrew and Hiram drove up from Dallas for Independence Day and for touring and antiquing. There was much crash course catching up, and walking, and driving, and eating. I took them to Dressel's, and they were suitably happy with food, Welsh Ale, and portraits. On the 4th, they came out to the house to see my folks, wander about in the country. Then off we went to Cindy Lauper and Fireworks on the levee. Nice time there. We missed the rain, got seats on the Grand Staircase, and did lots of people watching. Andrew was astonished at the lack of olive skinned and brown folk in the crowd. He's Lebanese, and Hiram is Puerto Rican. Not alot of their sort live here. I reminded him that this isn't Texas, and it's not Dallas. We don't have as many or as integrated a number of folk from places other than Europe and Africa. Though I didn't get the chance to get them out to the Korean and Vietnamese 'hoods. Cindy was cheerful and bouncy and fun in every way. And when I got home the visitations continued into changes.

Changes: I get home and out of the back of the house comes my neighbor's dog Jack -- a young, large, Golden Retriever. I thought the heat had gotten to me. The heat had sort of gotten to me (i'm such a heat-wimp it's just ridiculous). Did not compute at all. Turns out that our "darling neighbors" were popping off their fireworks in spite of the fact that one of their dogs is Terrified of them. My thought: so stop it with the fireworks, you dolts. Jack ran over to our house and practically climbed through the door in manic flight, I'm told. Not surprising. Actually, he did the same thing last weekend when some folks down the road were playing pyrotechnicians, and I had to sit outside with Jack for an hour to calm him down. Fleur called Neighbor Mom and told her Jack was here. NM complained that Jack is afraid the explosions (shocking, i know), and she just "doesn't know what to do with that dog, is thinking of taking him to the pound." Yeh, because you're neglectful of him, haven't trained this most trainable of dogs, and generally treat him like some imposition you yourself choose and bought. You're right that he doesn't like you. I wouldn't like you either if I were that dog. I'm not that dog, and I don't like you. Geeeeyad how I despise this sort of thing. Like the dog's purpose in life has anything to do with your neurotic self-obsessed not knowing how to live in the country yelling at your kids for nothing self. So, we're adopting Jack. Who really needs a good bath (seriously smells like a creek bed) and in One Day has learned to sit, lie down, heel, almost stay, and negotiate both a staircase and cats. I plan to make him my dog. Foxy is not happy, Wags is indifferent. She's outlived so many other dogs that another new one is nothing to her. Foxy really hates competition for human affection. So, pet Jack, pet Foxy, pet Foxy more than Jack. The cats are seriously mad. But, in a month, all will be well.