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For the last six years, the ladies of Shimmy Mob Memphis have joined women across the world in danced to raise funds and awareness for local women’s and children’s shelters to help end domestic violence.

We invite you to join us this Saturday, May 21, 2016 for a fundraiser show and silent auction at Club 152 on Beale Street at 7 p.m.  Admission is $15.  Proceeds go to the Family Safety Center of Memphis and Shelby County.

Our performers will include the beautiful dancers from Alima Tribe, Tribal City Bellydance, Pyramid Dance Company, Sahar, Mystic River Dance Company, and of course Shimmy Mob Memphis.

There will be presentations about the Family Safety Center and a silent auction with lovely items on the auction block.

(Bring cash or a check for the auction!)

Please join us for a fun and sparkly evening in support of a great cause!

 

SM 2016 group

SM 2015 group

 

 

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Shimmy Mob donation class 2016

Buried beneath warm blankets, in the quiet shifting shadows just before sunrise, there arises an urgent need to share…

Me: Ostriches look like they have a lot of pent up anger with no adequate means to express it.

Him: That’s what you’re thinking?

 

 

Hiram, Circa 1913

Exhibit A. Hiram, circa 1913

Clearly, I come from a long line of distinguished goat people. It’s written in my DNA.  If you don’t believe me, refer back to Exhibit A.  That is my grandfather Hiram, Goat Wrangler Extraordinare.   My cousin, The Elitest Jerk, sent me the above picture.  She came across it yesterday while sorting through family heirlooms.

Recently, as I have dilly-dallied about the yard, I’ve been hearing the distant, but happy sound of goat bleating. The song of my people is in the air! My neighbors two doors down have made a recent acquisition.  I struggle to catch a glimpse, but to no avail. The summer foilage has grown too thick.  There is some comfort in knowing that goaty goodness is getting closer and closer to Peace.Love.Home…

In a world where color-coded tampons represent a gesture of affection just think what testament of love could be expressed in the gift of a goat…

Remember, it is the Year of the Goat.

Feb 2015 007

 

This weekend I was in the kitchen minding my own business, when he walked in and announced, “I organized your pads by size and color…”

Perplexed, I stood at the sink trying to blink some sense into his utterance. Nothing about those words or their arrangement fit into our normal everyday existence. This is not a man to organize anything by size and color.  We share a closet, you see, and I took over laundry duty years ago for the sake of my sanity. Under his charge, if clothes were lucky enough to make it from dryer to closet (and rarely were they ever), they were hung all willy-nilly, coat hangers askew, pants cavorting with shirts in an unholy way, with no thought given to color or context. This is the man whose shoes I pick up and return to the closet multiple times throughout the day.  Flip flops and dress shoes and Birks and not one but TWO pairs of work boots. All in the bedroom, but not the closet. Who puts on and takes off this many shoes in one day?

But there he was standing in the kitchen Sunday showing me proof of deed. In his hand was a Tupperware container he had commandeered for the purpose.  T’was a veritable rainbow of feminine hygiene products tucked neatly inside this cornucopia. I stared dumbfounded, mouth agape, as he followed up with, “…just in case you ever forget what love is.”

family

This is the first time in the four-year history of My Little Spacebook that I’ve gone over a month between posts.  There’s so much to report!

In August El-D and I celebrated our 20th anniversary.

1st 230

El-D & Lunar in the Pirate Phase of our Youth

 

We have seen each other through many faces, phases, places and lives…not to mention various hats and corsets. Whether leaving for the house for dinner or the grocery store, we continue to ask each other “Who are you going as tonight?” There’s Country Gentleman and Woodland Fairy, Monday Night Bowler and YoginiTini, Mickey Mouse Man and Bag Lady, The Professor and Mary Ann.  The odd pairings seem to be endless.  It’s great fun.

Also in August, I turned 40.   My wonderful family made it the best birthday ever!  The party was dubbed “The Redneck Shindig” and featured Slip’N Slides, Italian cream cake, a million baby crickets, and family members trying to one-up each other’s tales about the fires I’ve started in their homes and wrecks I’ve had in their cars.  Good times. Thank you, dear family, for loving me in spite of the havoc I have wrecked in your lives.  I love you and your terrible singing and zany presence.

Forty is fabulous!

Forty is fabulous!

 

One of the highlights in September was a six-hour kayaking trip on the Wolf River. Things were going great until I rounded the bend to enter Ghost River. At that very instant Nature got all up in my business. Plant life reached out to caress me in a creepy-uncle sort of way and two big spiders – one fat and hairy and one little-bodied with long skittering legs – leaped simultaneously and aggressively into my kayak.

Before I go on, I want you to know I can appreciate spiders when they spin their string art and sit around calmly eating less superior bugs. In fact, I appreciate them so much I take pictures and wax poetic about them (see Centered Scribe Spinning, Spinning ) I can even appreciate momma spiders when I disturb their peace with my weed pulling and they take off running with their egg sac full of future spiders.

a mama carrying her silver orb

See? I know this spider and her progeny. We coexist peacefully on the farm!

 

However, when spiders jump in my tiny kayak and proceed to run AT ME despite my flailing paddle and panicked shrieks, I will fight them until death.  It was a long, hard battle – and I had doubts about who would paddle or skitter away the victor as the kayak tilted precariously this way and that. After all that, I thought I was done with kayaking for awhile.

Ghost River

Wolf River

 

So it was a bit of a surprise last week when I found myself back in a kayak, this time in the bayou, on a soul journey with nine strangers. I’m still trying to figure out exactly how that happened and what it was all about.  I’ll let you know when the pieces come together…

Altar on Deer Island

Altar on Deer Island

 

 

 

This time of year I think a lot about my grandmother.  She was born into this world and left it during the summer months.

Kiki was a fabulous and funny lady. She taught me lots of things: the names of flowers, my first prayers (“Dear God, Bless Roy and Cathy and Carey…”), how to multitask (she would exercise in the den during Wheel of Fortune), how to drive with my elbows, how to be independent (“It’s my money and I’ll wipe my ass with it if I want”).

She taught me beauty secrets such as taping your face at night to prevent wrinkles. And on that last note, when I came across this funny video today, I immediately thought of her….

 

Dear Far-Flung Family & Friends:

I am alive and well despite my lack of digital communications.  I’m having difficulty facing the screen when there is so much  presently unfolding “out there” in multiple dimensions that is demanding attention. Nonetheless, I miss you! You really should come for a visit.

This month marks two years since we arrived at Peace. Love. Home.  I continue to be awed everyday by the largest and smallest things.  Eggs for instance appear daily, as if by magic, in the dog house.  I could build a pyramid  large enough for all four of the chickens to live in with the eggs they laid this month.  How do all these eggs fit inside these fluffy feathered girls?

all my eggs in one basket

this is not even a quarter of my eggs in one basket

The chickens are comical in so many different ways.  When I go around the barn to tend to the ducks, they try their hardest to spy on me.  They cram themselves in the corner between the doghouse and the fence practically on top of each other as they vie for the best view.  When I walk back around the corner into their line of vision, the chicken totem pole disbands and they scatter as if those nosy girls couldn’t possibly be interested at all in anything I could ever do.

Apparently, word has gotten out that this place is “bird friendly” because we’ve been visited recently by interloping fowl trying to figure out how to get IN on this domesticated action.  The two wild mallards below have been touring the property regularly, checking out the ducks’ pen and the chickens’ digs.

 

june2014 003

Myrtle, Pearl, and Gertrude bow respectfully as they bid the interlopers adieu.

 

There’s also a lone Canadian goose who drops in to check everyone out.  He wanders around in the mornings honking incessantly for hours at at time.  One afternoon last week I spotted a coyote who was drawn in by all this birdy action.

Perfect strangers (of the human variety) have also dropped by this summer to share stories and cry at the kitchen table with me about things that matter, which turns out is quite a lot.

 

I think I do more reading in the colder months than the warmer ones, how about you?

My leisure time in the summer seems consumed by flowers, bull frogs, and butterflies. In the dark of winter I will spend hours reading in the bathtub or bed, but in the summer I’m usually too exhausted by daytime existence and heat to read in my usual haunts. Reading for fun happens mostly in little snippets of time, mostly while I’m in transit –  like in the car being shuttled to a family function, or while waiting for someone’s luggage at an airport, or in a too-long line at the bank.

 

If you’re looking for something to read this summer, here are a few Book Quickie Reviews of the stuff that occupied my winter nights:

Title:  Fowl Weather 

Author: Bob Tarte

Why I Read It: It has a duck on the cover! (I’m a bit bird-brained in case you haven’t noticed).  I spotted it on the shelf at the Goodwill.

Synopsis: It’s the memoir of a kindred spirit who chronicals life with his menagerie. In his own words, it’s the story of, “how thirty-nine animals and one sock monkey took over my life.”

Highlights: Bob Tarte makes me seem normal by comparison. He’s funny and taught me a lot about my ducks.

Most Relate-to-able Quotes:  What can you ever say to a dead duck?  

It bothered me that I’d exhibited more patience with a duck than I seemed capable of extending to my mother…

 

Title: Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking

Author: Malcolm Gladwell

Why I Read It: It was a good book day at the Goodwill.  I hadn’t read anything by Gladwell, but I’d heard good reviews about his work. The idea of thinking without thinking was compelling.

Synopsis:  Through a wide range of case studies and behavioral research Malcolm explores the cognition behind “gut feelings.”

Highlights:  I am in awe of Gladwell’s ability to synthesize information from many different lenses into such a coherent picture of unconscious cognition.  He weaves together research and examples from such far flung fields as marital communication to military strategy (actually those two domains may not be as disparate as they seem on the surface) to museum curation.  It was as fascinating as it was well-written.

Recommended to: Folks interested in psychology will love this book. Also, firefighters and police officers, and others who must make quick, high-stakes decisions would benefit from this information as well as educators and policy makers.

Best Quote:

We live in a world saturated with information. We have vitually unlimited amounts of data at our fingertips at all times, and we’re well versed in the arguments about the dangers of not knowing enough and not doing our homework. But what I have sensed is an enormous frustration wtih the unexpected costs of knowing too much, of being inundated with information. We have come to confuse information with understanding….we are desperately lacking in the latter (Gladwell, 2005, p. 264-265).

Title: Poser: My Life in Twenty-three Yoga Poses

Author: Claire Dederer

Why I Read It: Yoga and Memoir – these are a few of my favorite things!

Synopsis: Dederer shares her experience of coming to terms with motherhood and balancing a career with family life through a (sometimes reluctant) yoga practice.

Highlights: I love stories about the transformative power of a yoga practice.  Dederer tells her story with a wickedly funny kick.

What surprised me: I wasn’t expecting from such a funny flippant lady the depth of knowledge and insight with which she wrote about the women’s movement of her mother’s generation and the cultural trends in our own generation.  She challenged me to think more deeply about my own relationship with my mom and the social and political factors that defined mom’s generation and how that might have led to some of her baffling behaviors.

Best quote:

Without our mothers and their mass 1970s exodus to who knows where, we might not have gotten those crucial years of learning who we were.  I am not sure any of the mothers meant to give us this gift, this terrible gift of freedom…they bought our freedom with their courage (Dederer, 2011, p. 297).

——-

Disclosure: I signed up to be an Amazon Affiliate, which means 1.) I can use their book cover images in my posts without having to worry about them suing me, and 2.) if you use one of the links I provide in the blog to purchase the book on amazon.com I’ll get like a nickel or something.  I’m disclosing this so you will be aware that if you click on a book link, our electronic “footprints” will be walking together toward amazon.

 

 

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