Denise Dances: A Return to Perfect Health - Body, Mind & Spirit!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

How to Avoid Heat Stroke

DRINK UP HOURLY. During hot weather, do not wait until thirsty to drink 1-2 8-oz glasses of water. If excercising, drink 2-4 glasses an hour.

SHADE YOURSELF. Between 11-3pm, use an umbrella or wear a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses.

CHECK UP ON MEDS. Some meds can make you more sensitive to high temps.

REPLACE LOST MINERALS WITH SALTY SNAX. Sweating depletes the body of salt and minerals. Munch on potato chips, pretzels, peanuts or cheese n crackers.


REDUCE HOUSE HEAT. Use your microwave instead of stove and oven.

FROM: Women's World weekly magazine.


"...Liam had always been serious about his work. He had known from his childhood that he had been born to paint. It had set him apart and isolated him even as a child, and later as a teenager and young man. He had always known he was different, and didn't really mind. His mother had always encouraged him, and told him he had to follow his dreams. The rest of his family hadn't been nearly as enthused, and even his own father had treated him like a freak. It had created a chasm between them forever. It was as though only his mother was able to see his special genius. The others, his father, brothers, and even their friends, had just thought he was wierd, and his early paintings meant nothing to them. His father called them junk, and his brothers referred to them as scribbles. They shut him out from everything they did, and in his isolation, he had sought solace in painting.

Like all people who had suffered early on, Liam was much deeper than he looked...All of the artists she knew had had some private grief or hell to live made their lives more painful perhaps, but strengthened their work and commitment to art."

(But you like it!) -- R.C., Late Summer / Fall 2010

(FROM: "Impossible" by Danielle Steele, Copyright 2005. Bantam Dell, a div of Random House, Inc. New York, NY) -- Did you check out those fireworks over Manhattan last night? I got dizzy!

Watercolor Artist

I met the watercolor artist, Leah Robinson at the Spring Street Cooperative Gallery last Monday on a hot sunny afternoon.  Once a former elementary school teacher, she began selling her watercolor paintings after her first year as an artist and has been doing so for the past twelve years. She sells her work four times per year at the Block Island Artist Guild fairs, as original watercolor paintings and reproduced prints. Arts and music program funding is being cut from the public school systems and so, 10 % of the sales go to fund school programs in the arts.

But, she adds, "I paint for me." In other words, her heart is in her art. Elderly. Petite. Graying hair. Unassuming. As a weaver, she couldn't earn any money. She has been a successful artist for the past twelve years. As a summer resident on Block Island, she is now showing her work at the Spring Street Gallery for the first time.  For more info, check her out at:

In Sterling, (978)422-8516
On BI, (508)331-3280


Ah, yes...a little fresh Island air and some white wine in the summertime make for creative writing!

UP NEXT: I return to the Peacable Kingdom in my "backyard." Really, Town of Groton is just five or ten minutes over the Goldstar Bridge, just down the street from where I live in town. Taking it outside for lunch out back, in the grass, where my Peacable Kingdom here back home abides. Out back to visit with my rams and lambs once again!

UP NEXT: "Watercolor Artist." I finally get to meet her, the inspiration for starting MAAP (Making Art Affordable to the Public in June 2009).

And...UP NEXT: "Impossible." Who? Me? Yet another dangerous and difficult situation I now face? Nooooo! an excerpt from the latest novel that I am reading by Danielle Steele!

UP NEXT on Fool's Gold! A trip back in the time machine to Willimantic and my, ah, her college days! with CREATIVE WRITING / POETRY! in a blast from the past. For more info, go to:

UP NEXT: Tips to Avoid Heatstroke and...Excercise to the Beat!

PARABLE: Animal Farm

I chose to walk the route past the Manisses Farm into Town. I was bemused by the behemoth Mr. McDuff, rime steer and the white steer, his companion. A white duck snuggled into a patch of clover, almost buried in it. Mallard ducks, male and female roamed freely, outside the barnyard and within the coati mundi cage. A flock of Canada geese grazed on the far banks, although it was late June; instead of early Fall.

As I meandered along the rocky path, a strange disturbance took place amidst this Peacable Kingdom, the mama llamas and baby llamas; the two black and white fainting goats, etc. A mean brown Shelby duck flew over the head of a scrawny, pure white duck in the barnyard. The unfortunate duck ran outside the gates toward a parked car. Dissatisfied, the brown beady-eyed buzzard flew at the pure white duck; low, overhead; pushing the white duck further away, driving her into the bushes.

"Stop that!" I shouted. "You leave him alone!" As the brown buzzard stood there, I ran at him, charging at him until he flew off into yonder sky.

The fuzzy white duck walked back toward the barnyard, along the fence, into the backyard paradise of the Manisses Inn instead. A small pond with stone walls awaited. A fountain gurgled spray mist. There were white chairs and a twisted tree. A far better place than the barnyard; a peaceful paradise.

A while later, I decided to check on my feathered friend. I found her nestled on the banks of the small pond, among the clover. As she stood in apprehension, I admired her long, fuzzy neck; her yellow eyes; pale orange bill and long pale orange legs with webbed feet. A fragile, graceful and delicate beauty. I spoke softly to her, soothing words of encouragement.

Then, I moved onward to take a Pilgrimmage, reminiscent of Summer 2005 with Paula.

Later that afternoon, I returned to check on my fine, feathered friend once again.  Against a sunlit hill, she stood grazing peacefully on the grass with about four or five other barnyard animals: goats, llamas, donkeys, an ostrich, a camel, etc.

After dinner, I returned to check on my little charge again. She meandered outside the barnyard fence, in the backyard paradise of the Manisses Inn now, with the knotted trunks of the willow tree and the white wrought iron chairs. As I approached her from a distance, a brown mallard duck appeared on the other side of the fence. "Peep, peep! Peep, peep!" the mallard called to her would be friend. However, the well-meaning mallard meandered into the woods instead. I realized I would have to leave in order for my fragile friend to trust and befriend her new counterpart.

As I walked slowly uphill past the ambling Manisses Farm, I spied the mean old buzzard, that vile red-eyed brown Shelby duck bathing in the pond in front of the large farmhouse on the hill. Beating his wings in the pond, he splashed up a storm and poked at his feathers in frustration! (If you see him...would you please shoot him...before I do...and put us all out of our misery?)

Wish That She Was Me!

Oh, how I wish that I could be
As wonderful as she
Seems to be to me
How I wish that I were she!
Oh, how I wish that I were straight!
Why'd I have to be so gay?
Wouldn't have it any other way --
Why can't she pull her own weight?
Standing on the edge of time
Looking past the years
The laughter and the tears
Wonder who she'll turn out to be.
If I had it all to do again
Why can't we be friends?
Why'd it have to end?
Wish we could've found a way!
Wish that I could see
If we're meant to be
Why can't it be
Easier than it seems to me...!
Oh, how I wish that she were mine!
She's my Valentine.
Sure we'll know in time
What she's meant to be!
I wish that we'd all play it straight!
Why can't we be gay?
Have to have our way
Hope to find some peace some day!
Standing through the test of time
Some of us are gay
Have to have our way
Why can't we be friends?
Does it have to end?
Time will show the way!
Soon we'll know someday!
By Denise Hickey
June 2011
Tunes of "Mo Better Blues" on Music Choice,

Ain' Gwine to de Hospital!


Ain't gwine to de hospital --
No hospital bed fo' me!
Tho' my teeth get old
And crackly bones
Ain' no hospital bed fo' me!

Though de saliva be running down me beard
And ye shoutin' words I ain' able to hear
Ain' gwine to be
No hospital bed fo' me.

Ain't gwine to de hospital
No hospital bed fo' me!
Tho' my teeth get old
And crackly bones
Ain' no hospital bed fo' me!

Tho' my eye sockets be yeller
And I ain' able to teller
Me right elbow from me left --
Ain' gwine to be
No hospital bed fo' me!

Ain't gwine to de hospital
No hospital bed fo' me!
Tho' my teeth get old
And crackly bones
Ain' no hospital bed fo' me!

What? I can't hardly hear ya!
Though I be right near ya.
Ain' gwine to be
No hospital bed fo' me.

(This post, I would like to dedicate to Russell Cavanaugh, who became my closest friend from August 17, 2009 until April 16, 2011. I am so blessed to have met...a gentleman of a certain acquaintance!!!...* * * :) My life is all the better for having known him during his last two years, here on Earth. I guess some people just weren't meant to get old.)

Denise Hickey
New London, CT