Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that is veritably tap-dancing its way across the keyboard this morning in a nimble frenzy of linguistic soft-shoe inspired by the one and only Jerry Jeff Walker.It was one of random iPod moments, when, out of the blue, a song we hadn’t heard in years came piping out our miniature electronic jukebox. Whoah! Just call us Mr. Bojangles. We’re good with that, and if someone wants to swing by the Summit Up corporate suites and donate a pair of castanets, we’ll REALLY get going. In the spirit of world music, we’re going to start a new musical style, a spicy blend of Flamenco and American roots music, and we’ll call it Folk-a-menco. You may laugh, but just wait until we release our first million-selling CD. We also love all those other cool body-related musical instruments like finger cymbals and those big bass drums you can wear on your back.***
And it seems we’re not the only ones feeling all rhythmic and musical today. We had a quick note from one of our favorite Summit Up correspondents who started the day by singing old James Taylor tunes in harmony with a flock of bluebirds twittering in the trees. We love the Disney-esque feeling this evokes, and we can picture our friend in a summer frock wearing a wreath of wildflowers, belting out “Sweet Baby James” and skipping barefoot through a verdant meadow while birds and multi-colored butterflies circle ’round. Lovely image, isn’t it. We’re going to hold that thought in our heads as we begin to delve into the more serious side of life this week, using it to recharge our souls whenever we start to feel frustrated by little things like multi-lane cone zones stretching from here to Timbuktu.***We didn’t want today’s column to be all bad news, but here’s a little. Dennis sent us a pair of Scum Alert! Scum Alert! notices:”Scum Alert No. 1: To the scumbags who thought the middle of Pioneer Park was the place to dump broken tiles, subflooring, cement board, lumber and cabinet parts. This is also a personal a front to the five or six people who worked their butts off cleaning up Pioneer Park during Frisco Clean-up Day.
“Scum Alert No. 2: To the dirtbags who used the Animal Shelter’s dumpster to get rid of empty beer bottles and six packs. Better than in the park, I guess, but these idiots were only a block from the Recycle Center, the right place to get rid of brown glass and cardstock.”We agree. Thanks Dennis. May the culprits have perpetual filth under their fingernails …***Why is it that there are no playgrounds for grownups, and we’re not talking about Vegas, baby. We’re talking about things like swings and see-saws, or is it teeter-totters? Is there a difference between the two? Or is this a question of regional semantics, see-saw on the West Coast, teeter-totter in New England? And how ’bout a giant slide? Anyone else remember heading out to the playground with wax paper and polishing the incline to get more speed?In any case, every now and then we really get in the mood for a good swing, especially this time of year. There’s really nothing quite like tilting back in one of those little bucket seats, getting your legs and hips pumping and getting up as high as the bar, close enough to touch the sky.
Problem is, all the playgrounds around here, the swings are built for the toddler set, and, well, let’s face it, even though we generally boast fairly slim physiques, our keesters are just too darn big to fit comfortably. We say this smacks of age-ism, and think our civil rights are being violated. We DEMAND equal rights. Heck, if dogs can get their own park, how about an adult-friendly playground, where the swings are really big, and the teeter-totters have padded seats – wouldn’t want to injure the old kidneys, you know! And what about a full-size merry-go-round? What’s could possibly be better on a summer day than the centrifugal head rush of spinning around while laying on your back and watching the clouds spiral around? We think the world would definitely be a better place if grownup had a place to get their ya-yas out; less stress and grief and whole lot more laughter and joy. Playgrounds rule, cone-zones drool!Drop us a quick message to firstname.lastname@example.org and tell us what your favorite piece of playground equipment is.
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