Hand me a hanky. I’m considered a – a – a –retinue. Bless me.
So says Mr. Mead of Blogorrhea fame. It’s not to be confused with something in your eye.
Instead, I’m a retinue … to Mr. Scatter’s gadabout.
Lest you think I’m talking nasty, this comes from a communicable blog award that’s considered, um, a good thing. You have to be prolific to get it. It’s really called the Prolific Blogger Award.
This is like an accolade. It’s a nice gesture from Mr. Mead.
Mr. Scatter is the prolific one. I’m just the retinue. Which means I drop in now and then. Or act like a groupie. Or drive the car. Or something. Combine all this and what I really do is drive-by blog posts now and then.
The Large Smelly Boys get to be retinue, too. But we don’t let them drive yet.
Mr. Scatter is so prolific that he sits in his cute little kitchen nook and types away. We call him for dinner. We leave the hall light on for him. He just continues to tap-tap away. We leave crusts of bread on the table for him now and then. The Large Smelly Boys have grown mustaches since you last saw them, Mr. Scatter.
Mr. Scatter says he’ll have to acknowledge the honor more formally soon in the blog scroll. Actually, he said, “I’ll have to pass it along.” I’m not sure Mr. Scatter realizes that a condition of receiving the award is that on the site he has to add his name to Mr. Linky. I fully realize the irony of suggesting my husband will be both communicably prolific and the more responsible one in crafting a response.
Speaking of prolific …
“I just sold a vasectomy.”
Don’t you just love school auctions. This is what happens when people drink and bid. They give up body parts. Willingly.
This was actually quoted to me Friday night after two – TWO – vasectomies were sold. Coincidence?
These people support their kids’ education by making it impossible to have more kids.
This item is Standard Operating Procedure every year at the auction that benefits the school where at least one Large Smelly Boy has attended for nearly a dozen years. Some fund-raisers back, the auctioneer and his sidekick lived across the street from each other. When the Standard Operating Procedure came up for bid they reminisced about when they clipped their future stock holdings at about the same time and hung out on the front porch together with two ice bags and a bottle of whiskey.
Aren’t these matters that should be discussed – um – privately?
Saturday night, we popped in for a looksee at the Spring Performances of NW Dance Project. We had to pick one of FOUR dance events going on! Fortunately, we can still catch POV: The Ford Building Project next weekend. I’m sorry to miss shows by Katherine Longstreth at Conduit and Richard Decker at Performance Works NW. I met both of them only a few days apart. They both moved to Portland in only the past few years. I’m amazed to think how much the Portland dance community has grown in the past decade.
The NW Dance Project performance was highly polished. These dancers have some impressive chops, nuanced and athletic, poignant and powerful. Art Scatter’s highest paid correspondent reviewed the show HERE.
Mr. Scatter has been gadabouting by moderating discussions with the choreographers. See his past posts HERE.
He wore a matching crushed velvet skirt and cape, laced-up sandals and a giant Trojan helmet. He had beefy forearms and wrist cuffs. He even had a big fake bloody gash drawn on his bicep. He swayed a bit. I did what any polite bar-goer would do. I gawked unabashedly. When he wasn’t looking. I tried to take a sneaky picture, but it was too dark and I didn’t want to flash a stranger in a bar.
He downed his drink, staggered past us and walked out the door. Our waiter surreptitiously watched him and then brought us two place-settings.
“How long has he been here?” I asked.
“Half a second. Just long enough to drink an ouzo. Everything’s back to normal now.”
ILLUSTRATIONS, from top:
Pollice Verso, 1872, by Jean-Léon Géréme/Wikimedia Commons
Ukelele Loki’s Gadabout Orchestra. Give it a listen.