Type Dancing

Be Nice to the Diva within You

It just wants to get out once in a while … and …. SING!

[Note: All pics taken with the Canon 1D by Dave Wiley or the Canon 10D by Ellen Wilkin]

What is a Diva? you might ask. Well, instead of trying to describe one, or its male counterpart, a Divan, here are some illustrations with captions.

Divas are Divine! There’s Liza Minnelli, k.d. lang, Blondie, and we think maybe Grace Slick, but not sure. (Left to Right: Ellen, Carolyn, Laurel, and Darcy.)

We’ve got Dale Evans with “Happy Trails” helped along by k.d. lang (Left to Right: Judy and Carolyn.)

A little Liza never hurt no one. “That’s Liza with a ‘Z,’ not Lisa with an ‘S,’ ‘cause Lisa with an ‘S’ goes ‘Sh’ not ‘ZZ’.” (Ellen)

You don’t necessarily have to be female to be a Diva. But, not to embarrass the male karaoke singer unduly, we refer to them as Divans. We don’t actually know who these Divans are, so we’ll call them the Mystery Men. Except second from left is probably Placido Domingo, or possibly Neil Diamond. Your choice. (Left to Right: Tom, Ken, and Giang.)

More Mystery Men with Placido/Neil. They are just having such a good time! (Left to Right: James, Richard, a little bit of Tom, and Ken.)

Sometimes Divas have to share the spotlight with Divans, but not very often. We just growl and they back off! Especially when you are talking Debbie Harry and Placido Domingo! (Left to Right: Laurel and Ken.)

Even Dave, the “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!” Croaker, joined in with a lovely and lively “Da-o” on the “Banana Boat Song.” (Left to Right: Dave, Ken, Darcy, Laurel, and Carolyn.)

Mud is Thicker Than Water

[Note: All pics taken with the Canon Digital Elf]

There is nothing like a good old-fashioned mud bath. I was visiting my folks in New York recently, and my sister dropped her kids and me off at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house. It was my sister’s birthday, and she was to get her hair done. It was good to be at the old homestead again, and I sat back on the couch and got ready to have a lazy afternoon watching my Dad play with his grandchildren. Pa is energized by the kids, and it is fun to watch.

One thing about being at the old homestead is that it rests on some swampy ground. It was spring. It was very wet. You know the ground has to be a bit, you might say, damp.

When my sister dropped off the kids, they were wearing some of their favorite outfits. Kate was in a rose-colored visor cap and a pink polo shirt that matched her pink capris. James was wearing an angel fish t-shirt with matching jams. The kids were looking pretty clean and cute. As I lay back against the couch after my sister was safely on her way to her appointment, my father says to the kids, “Who wants to go outside?” That was the end of me and the couch. I didn’t really want to miss Pa and the kids in action, even if it meant leaving the lap of luxury of the couch.

Pa and the kids ran out on the deck as I was gathering my camera and shoes. By the time I made it to the back yard, they were already at the creek.

I was just within sight when I saw Kate go in. Then, James. I was within camera range as they stumbled back out, my father laughing silently as he clutched his Dutch Master cigar box, ready to enjoy a good puff and a grandfatherly amusement.

James thought it was hysterical.

But, tell me, who is gonna clean up this mess? Is it Pa? N-o-o-o-o. One more guess.