Isn't a Solstice What You Put On Your Bunions & Boils?

My grandmother, God rest her soul, used to ask us all the time to look at that thing on her shoulder. Of course, there wasn't a thing that could be done about it, but I do recall her givin us a recipe for something like a solstice. It involved baking soda and clay and seltzer water, I think.


Anyway, the Principessa says we got it all wrong, that a solstice is "more celestial" in nature. 
Okay.
It's your party, ma'am.


So naturally we went to the world's highest authority again, and damn if she ain't right. Again. 


From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Summer_solstice

The summer solstice occurs exactly when the Earth's axial tilt is most inclined towards the sun at its maximum of 23° 26'. Though the summer solstice is an instant in time, the term is also colloquially used like Midsummer to refer to the day on which it occurs.

Oh! MIDSUMMER! Now we're talkin the same language.

From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midsummer

Midsummer may simply refer to the period of time centered upon the summer solstice, but more often refers to specific European celebrations that accompany the actual solstice, or that take place on a day between June 21 to June 24, and the preceding evening. The exact dates vary between different cultures. 

SO, little missy (we said to the Principessa), you must be draggin up your European roots (are they red, too?) to expose us all to a little culture down on the farm. We are: Ever. So. Grateful.


In fact, we're thoroughly intrigued now.
How 'bout y'all come and frolic about with us? And bring that cousin of yours. And a bottle of the hard stuff. And some chicken. Cooked ones, that is...

The Principessa takes some damn good shots.
But then it ain't that hard when your subject looks like this...

Summer Solstice, right here in Swanky Rosanky. Who'da thunk it?

We Had a Third Cousin Who Spoke Spanish & Gave Alamo Tours in the 1960's.

So we were thinkin, when we heard that one of the bands comin to play on June 25th is from San Antonio, that maybe we'd be able to get a family discount through them to see that sacred place of history. And this time we were gonna find that basement!


And we were all geared up to fix breakfast tacos outta calves tongue for 'em, too, so they'd feel right at home. But then we asked, "What kinda music y'all play?" (remember the last time we asked that question?) expecting to hear accordions and high tenors.

See that cow sneakin around the side of the house? Yeah.
We thought it was sneaky for a San Antone band to be playin Gulf Coast music...

Boy, were our faces red. But I bet you were thinking the same thing, weren't ya? So we all stand corrected, together, waving the Lone Star Flag. Here's the answer that came back to our hasty assumption:


The Bluebucks are...


Gulf Coast Blues and Roots. Good. Music.


So now we're thinkin instead of chorizo and tortillas, we'll break out the BBQ'd catfish and whiskey. Makes all kinda sense to us.

This is the kinda weather they expect along the Gulf Coast,
but the Principessa knows better. Y'all bring them clouds, if you got 'em!

Pa... What's a Limerick?

We were runnin' around the house, unpluggin' all the appliances since there were big, black clouds rollin' our way (and you know what THAT means!), and everybody was all a-twitter (not that new kind, either) when Junior stopped us all dead as doorknobs in our tracks with "Pa... What's a limerick?"


Well, as soon we got finished washing his mouth out with the bar of Palmolive and sent him to unplug the milk barn heater, we looked up the word.


Turns out, according the well-known highest authority Wikipedia, a limerick is this:

a kind of a witty, humorous, or nonsense poem,[1] especially one in five-line anapestic or amphibrachic meter with a strict rhyme scheme (aabba), which is sometimes obscene with humorous intent. 

See? We knew there was something nasty about what Junior'd said.


But then we got to thinkin'... this limerick-writing could be fun. And we don't have to utter a word to Junior about it.


We asked around and bet y'all might like to take a swipe at it, too. So here ya go: a limerick contest about -- what else -- swanky Rosanky.


Read up on the dirty details and send us those tawdry thoughts about the Most Beautiful Place For Snakes & Cows In the Universe (or at least The Republic of Texas). If you don't mind, please email 'em to swanky.rosanky@gmail.com -- that way we can read 'em in the privacy of our own boudoir. Late at night when Junior's in bed.


If we like your limerick enough, we'll let you and a friend hang out with us on June 25th in exchange for nothing more than your sweet smile.


We ain't lyin'. We might be up for a bit of naughty business, but we're honest as elephants to the bitter end.

That's just about the time we like to do stuff like read limericks.