Kitties upset because they didn't win.

 

Three Graces and Serendipity

This week I’ve been looking at sculptures and paintings of the “Three Graces” (I’m on a mythology kick) and came across a bursting-forth version by Niki de Saint Phalle, whom I know very little about and think of never.  Then, in noontime class, today, Sally hands me a postcard I sent her 10/14/93 from Paris. “Sally: Well, I made it. Now I’m sitting in a café, the sound of pinball and murmuring help me muse over a glass of wine, as I watch the rain and people pass by. Phrase book and map are barely getting me along. So far, all I can remember is “Je voudrais…” (I would like) and merci merci merci. I flew from Dublin to London yesterday, then took an all night bus to here, so I’m fairly out of it. Every time I get someplace new all I want to do is go home but in a day all I want to do is explore. My walking shoes are sopped; soon I’ll return to my shoebox-sized room and collapse and write. Yes, you have to smoke here. And in Dublin, too. I'l clean out driving back across Arizona in a few weeks. For dinner? The best bread, a pear, and some goat cheese. This wandering has its fun moments.”  So who’s on the front but an elephant, “Sculptures animees de Tinguely et Nicky de St Phalle.”  So I have a Niki thing going on. And I am so overdue for a long solitary trip.

Poem of the Day

Messenger

By Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.

Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird— equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me keep my mind on

what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and

learning to be astonished.

The phoebe, the delphinium.

The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.

Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here, which

is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart and these body-clothes, a

mouth with which to give shouts of joy to the moth and the wren, to

the sleepy dug-up clam, telling them all, over and over, how it is

that we live forever.

 

 

Riffling in the morning

I was taking the casual commute to San Francisco this morning (2 people jump in a driver’s car, and speed across the bridge in carpool lane), and Eric (“The derrick”—so I remember his name) said his rider yesterday gave him $1 (standard), then in minutes riffled her purse to give him change equaling a dollar. “But you already gave me a dollar.” “Oh God,” she said, “It’s that kind of day. I put oatmeal in the cat’s bowl this morning.” I’m not that bad, yet, but of course the day is young….

Hot Water and Wrestling

Anniversary, wrestling masks, good friends, hot water, flowers, who could ask for more!?

Eclipse light

Not the transit of Venus. Rocket 89....uh make that, Rocket Number 9, take off for the planet....

The Mermaid and the Wrestler

Only in Indiana.

 

 

At long last

My chance to create  wallpaper from certain of my photos now seems possible:

 

http://www.designyourwall.com

 

 

 

I didn't take it

From our junk mail alias: “If anyone has accidentally borrowed a purple mug with the letters [redacted]  written across the entirety of the mug for the past week and a half, I’d greatly appreciate its return in the near future. It generally resides in the cupboard in the fourth floor kitchen until about 8:00 am Monday through Friday, which is where it can be returned. Sooner rather than later would be great, as this is the mug my mother gave to me when I left for college 30 years ago, that I generally use every morning so that I can tell her I still use it every morning, when I talk to her every week…which I didn’t do last week because I couldn’t actually tell her I used it last week. Or this week. Hopefully I can tell her on Saturday that I used it on Thursday. So, if you could just do a quick check to see if it’s sitting on your desk it would be greatly appreciated.”  UPDATE: Michael found his mug, within minutes. It wasn't my mug. I just liked the message.

Stripey

Well, I did not know one could purchase a zebra. Perhaps over the weekend I will wander down the nasturtium-strewn path, followed by grey boys, open to possibility, to see if there's room in the back 40, by the girl's clubhouse.