Nice salmon-colored polo. Not.

I like when old man professor comes into MY classroom before MY class is over, and, reeking of his own atrocious entitlement, begins to erase MY board, move MY stuff, and let his students overtake MY students. I had two minutes left, and I will use 'em.

Back the eff off, pops. This is a young girl's game, ya heard?

Piano Player

After evening Mass last night (where I got roped into lectoring, but it was from the book of Genesis and a really short one where God tells Abram that he's got his back, so just chill for now, brother), Bridge and I headed to Hy-Vee so I could get soup and dried apples and turkey and she could get oranges and those new teriyaki tuna cups and Morningstar black bean burgers.

(How's that for (un)necessary detail?)

I am a sucker for community bulletin boards. Put up a corkboard and stick of tons random (and sometimes, kinda weird) annoucements on it, and I am transfixed. You just never know.

So, after paying for said grocery items, we stopped so I could peruse the board and we saw a sign that said:

"Live Piano Music. Tonight @ Raziel's!"

I am also a sucker for piano music. And those who play piano music.

We walked in and this 70 year old man was seated behind his Yamaha keyboard. And he was just a little dude. Glasses, wavy white hair.

He was amazing. I fell completely in love. He asked me what my favorite song was, and I told him Floyd Cramer's "Last Date." He rocked it. Trills on every note; I have never felt so warm in my life.

He played everything: a gorgeous Elvis medley, Glen Miller stuff, "Chariots of Fire" (another of my personal favorites). This man was good. One of the best I've ever heard. His name is Tony and he usually plays in Sioux Falls, the bar owner told us.

It was the nicest evening.

If Everyone Lived Like Me,

We would need 4.7 planets.

My ecological footprint spans 21 acres.

In the summer, my footprint shrinks--I can eat locally more;I ride my bike everywhere, but still.

4.7 planets.

How big is your footprint?

Rose comes into the house, all excited, ...

...because Miami is having a song competition. $10,000 goes to the person who writes the best lyrics and music about how great Miami is. I think the Chamber of Commerce is sponsoring the contest.

Anyways, Dorothy and Rose decide to team up--Rose on the old ivories and Dorothy pens the lyrics. They get writer's block. They fight. Rose probably gets smacked on the head with a rolled up newspaper. They try to rhyme "orange," which we all know is impossible!

Meanwhile, Sofia calls Blanche a slut. Or a tramp. Oh, I love these girls.

This is their first attempt:



You can see it doesn't work, right?

Anyways, the duo comes up with a great song:

Miami, Miami, you've got style,
Blue skies, sunshine, white sand by the mile!

Sadly, the girls come in second place. They walk in all downcast, but Blanche really wants to hear the song.

And then, the day ends with all four of them belting out the awesome, awesome song:

Reason #4,312 Why I Love Vermillion

Because you can walk into the Civic Council with nothing but a dream and walk out with a full, wooden, bed frame, complete with a classy headboard and footboard:





And, if you're a little bit country and a little bit rock n' roll, do you try to cover up and hide the quaint covered wagon that adorns your footboard? As though you were ashamed of your pioneers? Of your ancestors?

Hell no.

You celebrate it:

Ashes

My Lenten journey begins today. It may be depressing and somber, but I am ready.

This year, I will mind my manners.

I won't get to an Ash Wednesday mass today because of my teaching schedule, but I am fasting. Hour 20. And I will throw up a prayer or two on my solitary drive home tonight. I want the smudged cross of ash on my forehead, but I won't get that, either.

I once wrote a poem about Ash Wednesday; it was naughty, I suppose, but so did Timothy Liu and his was published in a book. In his book, next to all his other published poems, so what now?

It's the incense, the burning, the sacrifice.

Scenes from a Dakotan Weekend