Monday, October 3, 2011

burn, clean, clean

*To burn with frustration then glance at a puppy who is doing puppy things---and giggle.

*Clean carpet.

*Clean eyeglasses.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

only, back, glass

*I am tromping through the maze of house purchase. The most cheerful thing I can say about it is that this entire situation (fiasco)has challenged me to find and explore hitherto unexplored ways of reducing stress.

*"The Good Wife" is back.

*Sitting on the hillside I can see the yellow trees reflected in the looking glass lake.

Friday, April 1, 2011

bask, plugs, map

* Basking in the new April sun I turn my face to capture it on my right cheek and ! see that the little tree has lime green delicate tiny leaves.

* The park looks like a Martian landscape after the plugger machine swaths back and forth.

* World map on the wall, I reacquaint myself with how the countries fit together.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011


*It's time for another trip. The hotel soap from the last one is all gone.

*Clean sheets and sleeping with the window open.

*Turning the television off.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

short flowers, voices, willows

*Nearly veered into a street sign when I spotted yellow croci in the tree row of the botanic gardens.

*Shrieky voices from children playing in the snow denuded park.

*Pussy willows.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Alice, wool, award

*Alice in "Vicar of Dibley".

*wool...wool...wool. (sigh)

*To see a person who most deserves an award actually given an award.

Monday, January 31, 2011


*All day he has looked at the snow out the window and exclaimed that I certainly know when the snow and cold is coming and when it is time to start an eight hour's drive home. I glow because I have always known things and it is lovely for him to notice now.

birthday, early morning, life

*I had the happiest, happiest birthday ever I had for a long time--and so simple it was.
Museums in the morning. Sitting on a sun warmed bench in the afternoon until my bottom was numb and my nose was cold. Then up the stairs to the San Francisco Grill for a Cobb salad to eat at a table by the window. We sat looking out until the still entangled Christmas lights of the Plaza were turned on. We walked back to the hotel to read in bed.

*We woke at the same time and walked out into the dark, under the arcade to buy some coffee. The Plaza was deserted, the arcade also. Our shoes counted out rhythm on the cold bricks. Coffee. Then into the car through the Sunday sleeping city of pinon smells and animal eyes glowing in the dark and crisp air.

*Life isn't about
for the storm
to pass,
it's about
to dance
in the rain.

Sunday, January 2, 2011


BECCA: Does it ever go away?
NAT: What?
BECCA:This feeling.
NAT: No. I don't think it does. Not for me, it hasn't.
And that's goin' on 11 years.(pause) It changes though.
NAT: I don't know. The weight of it, I guess. At some point it
becomes bearable. It turns into something you can crawl out
from under and carry around--like a brick in your pocket. And
you forget it every once in a while, but then you reach in for
whatever reason and there it is: "Oh, right. That." Which can
be awful. But not all the time. Sometimes it's kinda...not
that you like it exactly, but it's what you have instead of
your son, so you don't wanna let go of it either. So you
carry it around. And it doesn't go away, which is.....
NAT: Fine...actually.
"Rabbit Hole"

temperature, veg, leaps

*The subtle discernment of temperatures in the winter. Right pinky finger numbness. Hair crackly. Toes unfelt. Nose hair frozen at inhalation.

*Cleaning out the refrigerator of old, forlorn vegetables. Into a warm nourishing soup they go.

*Small dogs leaping over snow drifts to follow.