Main Street

The tiny invasion
After 15 years in the same house, we’ve gotten used to the aggravation of ants. They typically appear in small groups, wandering the kitchen countertops or meandering the windowsills. We’ve become obsessively clean; our counters sparkle and shine, but the ants keep coming back, wishing we were sloppy and spill-prone.
Once in while (like last week) the scouts discover a crumb or a smear and call in the infantry. In the morning we encounter a parade of little soldiers weaving down the side of the cabinets, across the floor, maybe disappearing into a crack in the laundry room baseboard. So, we gear up for battle. We clean cupboards, wipe down walls and strew ant-house traps all over. We scrutinize their movements, and any sign that they’re taking the bait back to their lairs is a cause for celebration.
I have no doubt that grizzled old ants are terrifying young ants with tales of the horrible blue bottle that sprays the terrible liquid onto ant soldiers. “It was the Battle of Windex,” they rasp, and the youngsters squeal and squirm.
I Googled “What good are ants?” and came across a website called Antblog. The ant-lovers on the site claim that ants eat the larvae of worse vermin, aerate the soil, disperse seeds, and generally behave like they belong in the ecosystem. Rubbish. I will squash and spray them without mercy.
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Have you seen Pink? The singer also known as Alecia Beth Moore is often rumored to have a vacation home in the area, and reports of Pink sightings are common. Most of the sightings can be attributed to Renee Mengali. You might be forgiven for the mistake. Renee is tall, outgoing, and keeps her hair short, blonde, and spiky. She is often accompanied by a muscular, tattooed husband who dabbles in cage fighting. Renee has a wine country punk sass that seems to fit effortlessly with her day job as a successful and dedicated CPA.
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It was not unexpected that Healdsburger Tom Chambers dropped out of the race for Fourth District Supervisor. It was a principled and pragmatic decision. Tom got in the race a few weeks late, while other candidates were busy getting traction and early endorsements. The good news is that we can count on him to continue to be principled and pragmatic as a City Councilman.
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Among my many endearing quirks is a fascination with breakdance films. They follow a predictable plot. A young dancer is cast out by society, family, or friends, and proves him/herself by winning the big dance battle, either solo or with a crew of similar misfits. There is always a nemesis, usually an overbearing rooster of a crew leader, who taunts our outwardly-cocky-but-secretly-unsure protagonist, but loses in the end to our hero’s winning combination of purity and grit.
A romantic subplot involves a stunning and desirable distraction, who turns out to be a good dancer too, and may impart some arcane wisdom or motivation, after a mundane series of breakups, makeups, and reconciliations. Plot twists include the occasional older sage, who drinks a lot but still dances like a champion.
I can’t spin, break, windmill, power rock, thread, or freestyle. I’m quite the uninspiring dancer. My sweetie has been known to express concerns for my wellbeing when we dance if I unexpectedly raise my arms above my waist. But in my soul, I’m fresh.
Ray Holley is busting a move in his heart. He can be reached at ra*******@gm***.com.