We walked over to the Living Traditions festival last evening, got food from the booths, a gyro for D and some Nepalese curry and sel roti bread for me, sat on the grass and watched people, listened to a Tongan brass band, and waited for the Salt Lake Scots. Thankfully, we both love bagpipes, since the alternative is to loathe them. Never met anyone wishy-washy about bagpipes. They bring tears to my eyes, apparently I have that switch in my brain that would flip if I had to charge to battle urged on by pipers. I would be one to go all Brianblessedbillyconnolly at the sound. It's not about being Scottish, either, since the Burmese have pipe bands for their military as well. Something ancient and either encouraging or enervating, depending on which genetic branch one draws from. The local band is long established and very professional.
Either way, it's the one place and time in this state where I am not in the dark-haired minority - grey notwithstanding. The first time, about 25 years ago, I'd only been in Utah for a year, after growing up as a minority pale person in Detroit. Here, I felt like the dark stuck-out-thumb, until this festival, and all the world turned out. More Pacific Islanders, first generation Africans and Tibetans these days, we plan to eat at the Ethiopian restaurant this week, so it's all a wonderful mix.
Took Moby out this morning on the retract-a-leash, as I got the beans in and watered. Let it play out, and he dragged the handle - which I could hear. Had to untangle him a few times and pull him back once or twice. He was lingering near the back door, when I heard the handle move fast, Moby out of sight. He'd gotten through the porch slats, into the space between the houses. Looking back up at me, "what?"
So I walked around to pick him up, and he darted under the porch. Dragged him out, to his annoyance, and unceremoniously hauled him back. Much mewling and a final hiss. Tried to let him wander again, but he had one goal in mind. Inside goes the cat. Ah, well, adventures. When done, I came in, and he rubbed up my ankles, all is forgiven.
String beans, sorry - bush beans, planted with inoculant - since I have no idea if there have ever been beans out there. Weeding done.