Dear Blob -
It's been an exclamation-point filled time! Brand new challenges, specific to the tropics continue to say Meep!
Last night I played an extensive Ukulady set at Rey Momo, the bar run my by new BFF, Buster, a ridiculously brilliant punk-rocker/former-AP-genetics-teacher, from LA, who writes hilarious-angry punk songs about cooters & pain.
The threat of tropical rain loomed, but we hauled Buster's PA & mics to the bar; Buster introduced me to the Expat Retirees, who socialize every Friday, known as White Night. A few White Nighters came to The Ukulady show and during songs of candy outfits, cake months & unicorndogs, a Tropical Rain, unlike anything I've ever experienced, started coming down. It is still pouring, as I write, enormous, violent sheets of water in varying stages of weight.
Show over, Buster drove me home in his persnickity stick-shift. Extremely Withered from the humidity, 2 hour show, yoga-class I did & constant-vague dehydration akin to Burning Man, I entered Casa Azul and discovered the entire dining room soaked in rain. The carpet squelched. Then the power went out.
I found the flashlight! I moved all the furniture in the dark! I gathered every towel in the house and mopped up, perhaps 1/6th of the water pooling in the carpet. Dumping the beyond-soaking-wet towels in the kitchen sink, I discovered an adorable frog, about the size of my hand, perched on a spatula. Breaking from the flood crisis, I cooed at it's silken cuteness and snapped it's superfrogmodel picture. Then I briefly fretted about how to get it out of the house before, exhausted, I collapsed into bed.
This morning heroic Burbank-Larry arrived and together we lugged the giant, soggy, dog-hair-covered rug outside onto the covered patio, in the process becoming soggy & dog-hair-covered, but not giant.
There was a break in the rain; inwardly-praising my pioneer-diligence, I rung out the flood-towels in the kitchen sink and hung them outside on the clothesline, which is Not under a covering.
Then it started pouring again.
Then I saw an enormous Cockroach on the kitchen ceiling, discovered the Frog, now covered in dog-hair, hiding behind glass window, in front of the screen, trapped and un-movable, even by stick-prodding.
The Frog and Cockroach are still in their respective areas, unreachable by my T-Rex arms. The rain continues to gush and the stray cats yowl. I think of the Donner Party.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Amidst the soggy-dog-carpet-lugging, Expat, David, brought by a bike for us to use!
pps: Buster called my show a mix of Pee Wee Herman & Cyndi Lauper! Beyond a compliment.