Vulcanny

B.H. Vulcan has been partying for two solid weeks. His handmade green and orange hat is pushed slightly to the side so you know that he's for real. His large head wags with every small child's hand, an irresistable golden worry wobble for all of the elderly ladies that sit before me, and from the old men, Bobble Head "Party God" Vulcan gets the occasional tilted head, a push, and a chuckle. B. H. Vulcan parties all day on the ledge of my desk. I sit behind him at my workstation, chair a little too low, desktop a little too cluttered, enormous monitor flickering in front of my face. I try to keep in the party spirit, just for the little guy. I play a little of Benny Goodman's "Bluebirds in the Moonlight" and swing around in my swivel chair, legs tucked in and skirt aflarin'.

"There are bluebirds in the moonlight. Silly idea, Bluebirds in the moonlight, but that's how I feel when I'm with you...
There are night owls in the daylight. Silly idea. Night owls in the daylight. But maybe my heart is saying who...who...who..whoooo..Who is the one for me, that's what you've done to me...."

I lean my head over to the far side of the partition, glancing up to the security mirror, making sure the coast is clear. And then I spin around again and again, head back and eyes bright. I love these late afternoons in the center. I'm sure I'll miss them come December, when I'll be flying every moment room to room in the new Emergency Room. My legs and heart and head will be tired by the end of the day. But now...right now...I turn my head to my dear friend Vulcan, and to the pictures of Ralph "Soul" Jackson, Emilybird, and Edwyn Collins (thank you, gorjus) gathered on the wall around my phone, Count Basie laces some pretty melodies in his "How Long Blues" and I turn to see that it's time for me to hit the road.

Have a good weekend, my lovelies. I'm sure I'll see you out and about.