She did it again.

There's a conspiracy in the house.

New readers may learn about me here.

So, you know Kona. Hurricane on fire. Never found a limit that couldn’t be broken?

You know Sharon. She’ll business anything, somehow, or die trying.

You know Gus. Steady box of surprises - fixes anything, lifts heavy stuff. Somehow keeps Kona purring.

You know Callie. Data wizard.

Apparently when I wasn’t looking, these four cornered Louisa and the next thing I knew, they overloaded a golf cart, Kona standing on the back seat with Sharon and Callie each holding a leg, Kona owning the world as they tore out of the driveway. I wouldn’t say their attire was legal, but it was brand-forward.

Honestly, I try to stay out of the blast zone when the energy gets too fired up around here. I love the porch because it’s quiet, and I can write letters to the roosters.

That was Tuesday. Now, fast forward four days later and a few hours into my late afternoon substack review of people I know and read, Callie went by my wicker throne, hauling one of the big speakers out into the yard. Followed by Gus with another one and then Kona dragging the stands in their bags. Not even two minutes later, Sharon went by, groaning and carrying an amp box.

“Ya’all planning something?” I asked, a little worried about what was happening.

“Just grilling out this evening,” Gus replied.

“We’re gonna do a yard dance,” Kona chirped as she untangled the yellow power cord from the snarl on the ground.

“I see.”

And that’s how I left it. I shifted my focus to writing a philosophical essay on appropriate places to store fishing gear in a house full of non-fisher-persons while I waited for substack-people responses to my restacks and notes.

Six thirty found the grill in yard, smoking and smelling like heaven, Gus wielding tongs and testosterone with great effect, various girls assembling a buffet table and talking about non-outfits, stream ideas, butterflies and assorted things. The kids-on-bikes count seemed higher than normal, but it was a weekend, and the street is a good place for them to scoot around.

“No bird pepper sauce tonight!” I heard Sharon directing Gus. “We don’t want to get sued.”

He clapped his tongs and gave her a huge smile.

“Just how big is this thing?” I asked, starting to wonder if I missed a memo. Gus was stacking chicken bobs on the grill like he was working a county fair. Tonya’s cart eased past the front gate and turned into the drive. The marine generally brings sanity, or at least control, so my pulse dropped a little, seeing her arrival.

“Just a few neighbors, maybe,” Kona said. The thing about Kona is, she may be stretching the truth just a bit, but I never know.

Tonya joined me on the porch, a paperback book in hand. “Looks like it’s coming along well,” she said. “Kona asked for chairs, but didn’t say how many.”

“Chairs? What exactly…. never mind. It’s Kona’s thing. I have a chair.” I wiggled in my wicker, just to be sure. Somehow, it was both warm in my chest, but also a little terrifying. I’ve got to start reading the house memos.

Louisa fiddled with her phone and music started filling the yard at a conversational level. Callie attacked the chair pile on Tonya’s cart, setting them up around the yard.

Pretty soon, out on the street, I saw neighbors walking. Mack and Myla among them, sharing their world view with Myrtle who was walking over from her house.

“You think Myrtle’s gonna corrupt M&M?” I asked Tonya.

She looked up, marked her page, and took in the world. “Probably not. They exist in overlapping orbits.”

I wasn’t too sure what to do with that, so I played along with a non-committal “Hmmm”.

So, nothing exploded, nobody got arrested, and the thirty or so people who showed up seemed to find something they liked on the buffet. The kabobs were excellent, and the bird pepper sauce stayed firmly locked in the fridge.

We were having a lovely, if somewhat cramped, evening. After the plates were cleaned and the buffet mostly consumed, the general hubub seemed to increase. Somewhere along the line, people started dancing. I’m guessing Louisa had curated the play list - there was something for everyone’s taste. For about a half hour, music played and people gyrated between breaks, and some talked over cans of cold bubbles before rising again. Louisa and Kona were moving, working the crowd, encouraging, dancing with the kids and others alike. Gus was a gentleman with the matrons, moving constantly to keep them engaged. Somehow, it looked a lot more scripted than a casual neighborhood cookout.

I made my way out into the grass, playing the elderly no-idea-what’s-going-on hostess role, trying to remember names of people I may have met here and there. I did a wiggle shimmy dance move to a modest beat with one of our bachelor neighbors, which seemed to go over well, before retreating to the porch where some folks were camped, chatting. Joining them, we watched the world with a general sense of approval and relief.

Mack and Myla were slow-dancing at one point when the music popped into a faster beat and they started doing a sock hop move. I watched in awe, wondering if someone was going to break a hip.

Then we got Konafied.

The music stopped and Gus lifted the kitten up and parked her on his shoulder and a hand mic appeared as she wobbled at altitude. “Hey Neighbors!” Kona’s do-me-now sultry-soap voice foamed instant desire across the yard, street, and surrounding houses. “Tonight’s a special event here in Tiara Land.” Gus turned slowly so she could address everyone as she chattered. “You’ve watched us online, you’ve seen us on stage, and tonight, we’ve started a monthly yard dance - everyone is invited back next month. Before we close it down, we have one more thing to do….” She flung an arm toward the porch in a classic Vanna move, very nearly toppling Gus in the process. They wobbled as she carried on. “For the first time ever in public…. Introducing our own Momositas tribute - written and performed by OUR VERY OWN WEESA HOT BUNS! WOO!”

She slid down our hunk of muscle as Louisa started playing. I felt something in my chest, looking around from my spot on the porch. It was nice. It was touching. It was emotional as the island sound rolled out across the yard. People sitting around me seemed entertained.

Then I noticed Gus, Kona, Sharon, and Callie joining hands out in the crowd, and then they started singing along and dancing, while Louisa owned the night from her stage on the porch and singing and playing through the amp.

At one point, while the lyrics rained down, I buried my face in my hands and felt Tonya’s touch on my shoulder, reassuring, and her other hand set a box of tissues in my lap. Music sometimes does that to me.

It was a pretty magical moment.

So, we’re hosting yard dances now. And apparently headlining a musical star.

-Mills

P.S. Turns out all that time they were gone this week? They found a studio. We didn’t have any gear recording anything at the dance, but Callie fed me a studio cut to share with you all.

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