If only I were a camera

This was a weekend full of photos. Too bad I am not a camera, nor do I own one, nor could I have always had it out in enough time to catch all the sights of this past weekend.
It was a lovely busy weekend of concerts outside, trail clean-up, and perhaps a cocktail or two.

How do I tell you about the woman who brought her hula hoop to the concert in the park on Saturday? Do I tell you it was the biggest hoop I have ever seen? Or perhaps I should mention she was wearing white mom pants which harkened back to the 70's, which is, I think the last time someone actually brought a hula hoop out in public. She was tall and lean, and could really move. Like on a pole kind of moving. But, isn't a hula hoop a kids toy? I'm confused.

Somewhere else in that sea of humanity, there was a little boy and a little girl, about three years old each. They were dancing together, and it looked like little adults courting. Where did they learn to dance like that? Pocahontas?

I waited for our small town's rock-n-roll loving, amateur public access video maker to do his customary high kick, but I waited in vain.

The next day, I went to hear a community band on the square with some friends. After the concert, we had a round of cocktails and caught up on life. The cocktails and the cold sent us to indecision bench, where we sat for an hour watching the tourists go by. You basically have not lived until you see a big old truck with an Australian Shepherd hanging mostly out of it, wearing pink goggles and a bandanna tied around her neck like a little old, how shall I say this without causing offense? Little old lady. Someone in my group may have pee'd her pants. I can't say for sure.

My kingdom for a camera.