This past weekend was full of activity. It was, as they might say, abuzz. Thing were abuzzing. We actually got out of the house and, like the party animals we are, stayed out way late (you know, midnight – yeah hardcore!) on both Friday and Saturday.

Friday we stepped out to our favorite tapas restaurant with GFEdna for eats and drinks and dancing to the cumbia band playing that night. Admittedly, I don’t know how to dance, I don’t think I’m a particularly good dancer but because I’m particularly good at making a fool of myself – I dance. I do like to dance and really, who cares as long as you’re having fun, yes?

GFEdna is originally from El Salvador. She asks us, ‘When are yeuuu going to veeseet my cown-tree?” Because we have told her we would really like to veeseet her cown-tree. So, the plans have been started. We can stay with her mother or sister in San Salvador, we will take a side trip to Guatamala, eat lots of pupusas and dance, dance, dance. Edna is teaching us all the curse words – she is a big party in a little package.

It was Spanish food and Mexican music on Friday, then Saturday we went to the opening of an exhibition for Nigerian born multi-media artist, Folasayo Dele-ogunrinde. The exhibition was coordinated by ARTreach, a non-profit arts organization started by my BFFTerri. The queen and I both volunteer for ARTreach. I do their website and marketing. It makes me feel like I’m contributing to the greater good and not just sucking up air and using precious resources without reciprocity.

photo courtesy of Sandy Buller

It was a fun evening. The basic theme throughout Folasayo’s visual and spoken word art is that women have to put up with a lot of crap from men. I recently found an essay written a few years ago by a man who wonders why the artist is so angry at men. Personally, I don’t think she’s angry at men, I do think anytime a woman doesn’t exalt men to the pedestal they believe they’re entitled to, they think they’re hated. Criticizing men = You hate all men. Men do bad shit. Not all men do bad shit. But the men who do bad shit, that shit is really bad. She’s basically pointing that out.

Keeping women from voting and going to school is a patriarchal form of oppression. It’s hard to give men a glowing review when they feel the need to treat women like so much livestock. It’s hard to give men a glowing review when they get pissed off that Apple took away their I-Boob app but they don’t get pissed off about rape.

I thought the most compelling piece of the night was her short film titled, The Hunt. It’s brilliantly creepy – really well done. Not a video to view at work or with small children around.

Yesterday, I did some sidewalk chalk drawing. There are photos, I’ll post when I get them.  BFFTerri bought kids sidewalk chalk, lots of colors – all the same intensity – day-glo bright.  Let me just say, I woulda eaten a can of Spam if it meant I could get a contrasting color.

This weekend I’m going to do some sidewalk art with chalk. It would be totally cool to be able to pull something off ala Julian Beever, he of sidewalk chalk art fame but, alas, I don’t think that’s in my skill set at the moment. But I may give it a try. Something simple. We’ll see what happens.

Last year, in April or May, I took the queen’s lead and offered up a ‘Gratitude Gift’. The first five people who responded to the post would get a handmade ‘gratitude’ gift sent to them by the end of the year. Uh, yeah. How fitting it was last week our friend Patti sent this poem -

last Tuesday in February

and it’s raining, predictably. These past weeks, my front door has swollen so much I’ve had to use my whole body weight just to close it. Then, too, is the disproportionate number of hours I’ve spent sleeping, wooed by the soft, somnolent hums of winter. The metaphors are not lost on me. Strength and surrender: this is how a life must dip and crest, our fervent plans posing, occasionally, an ill match for reality. How what we’d thought would be a race begs, instead, for rest. Or what we’d pictured needing pause in fact requiring more force. Sometimes the way to stay on track is to wander off the course.

-Maya Stein

Ah yes, “our fervent plans posing, occasionally, an ill match for reality.” But sometimes if you just keep at it the plans and reality start to meet on the road from Procrastination to Productivity. Which means I am closing in on the final stretch of the Project Gratitude.

I should know better by now. Next time I won’t give a time line. To thine own self be true.

We had the good fortune to be part of a quilting project with a gaggle of other lesbians led by head quilting lesbian, Sue. Ours was the effort from afar as all the other quilters live in northeastern US. The queen’s piece is here. Mine is here. And together they are here…

It’s quite lovely and will be donated to someone who needs a fabulous, queer quilt.

The last day of our travels in South Africa saw us in Franschhoek - a town everyone we met said was a necessary visit. It’s nestled in a valley of hills and mountains resplendent with vineyards. If it’s considered the food and wine capital of South Africa it’s easy to see why. The town is surrounded by wine and there are restaurants lining the main shopping street. It’s a small, quaint town with eclectic shops but a tad on the touristy side. There is, however, a lovely art gallery full of these art pieces made of lacquer and paint and whatever else. Some of the pieces are quite representational. Others not so much. Most of the art didn’t appeal to me so much but I really liked the piece shown above. It was the most original piece in the gallery and also had an ‘African’ feel to it. I heart it.