drive, knit, sub

*On the first day of autumn I drove to the old and new. South to a bookstore surrounded by ornamental grasses. Westward past a res losing water. Up into my favorite canyon, red walls, castle rock formations, blossoming rabbit shrub, llamas, down into the res valley.

* It is disconcerting to be misinterpreted and necessary to remember that people translate according to their own vision. My query into which hand the knitters sitting at my table use to move the yarn disintegrated into one lady thinking I was judging the knitters when I was merely curious about the predominance of left or right. I am a curious person and I have no agenda, truly.

* I like to have subcategories of seasons. Today we are in the 'leaves dancing on the roadway' part of  autumn.

* I am in love with my vaporizer.

charts, sheep, immersion

* Flow charts are such lovely, motionful things. Just when I cannot motivate myself to accomplish slipping my sandals I begin such a chart and it really does move. The chart. Feet still bare.

* I ventured out into the garden on an at last cool day with thunder miles away. "Wellllll. If I disconnect these 4x4's, turn them around, get more soil, I can double the size of the perennial bed." Sandals on, no SPF, a long hunt for a Phillips. The job not totally done when the rain comes, I realize (and make my room mate guess) what I have not planned for. I have eliminated the exit from the shed path for the lawn mower. Anyone have sheep for sale?

* Do not tell anyone but I have been watching a particular movie over and over again, repeatedly, for a month. My go-to background sound. I know all the dialogue and hum the music. It takes place in '45 and boy, do I want to seductively pull cigarettes from a silver case. My sinuses fill just thinking about inhaling and creating rings. Garter belts and stockings, no rigid shoulder pads in this movie. When I set the director conversation mode I find out the little packets in the bathroom drawer contain '45 condoms. When the action finally begins no condoms are used. Taken from a book, I analyze the decisions to subtract plot elements for the movie. Must. Go. Watch.......

yes...hot

* Ah, yes. Summer. 90 dee grees. I deeply question my January-in-the-cold decision to forego installation of a new AC system (current one was born in 1989). Considered a sound economic strategy (arrived at while wading through a foot of snow). I find I am playing AML's game of 'well then what do you like?' every 5 minutes. I migrate from the west side of the house to the east side and back again throughout the day, searching  for that nirvana cool spot. The dog no longer sleeps on the bed but finds refuge on the tile floor. Well then. What do I like?

^cut flowers on a book table, in sight when I wake up
^ice
^juice pops
^bird song in the morning
^immersing myself in books read ages ago and revisited
^veg from a CSA which forces me to eat things I would not necessarily buy and eat
^darkened rooms saturated in sweet, soothing smells
^rising with the bird song, getting chores done, driving through the still sleeping city
^which reminds me of visiting new cities and walking in the early hours as it wakes up
^hibernating throughout the day then creeping out just before dark and a little past dark
^supplying water to dogs, plants, me
^breathing, breathing

Frank, neck, changes, Davis

* Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.
   A. Frank

* I love coming home at the end of the day and untying the ribbon around my   
   neck that holds my head on.

* The enjoyment of reading a book then watching the movie based on the book 
   and being okay with changes. 

* When you hit the wrong note it's the next note that makes it bad or good.
   M. Davis

desk, feeder, produce

* "What did you do today?"
   "I moved my desk."

* The squirrel must have super strong throat muscles to swallow while eating upside down on the birdfeeder.

* I joined a CSA (the thing with produce) 30 miles away to insure that I leave the house one day a week...or was it the kilted men on the advertisement? (Added later:they really do wear kilt while working in the fields...)

silverware, uncertainty, sun, ?

* Mom’s company silverware has been on vacation in the far back of the cupboard forever. I have been saving it—until today when I asked myself “Why?” and “For what?”. Oh, yeah. That Thanksgiving block party=no. I chose a feminine flowery fork for my sautéed cabbage. Half way through the treat, I realized the fork had not been washed since 1990. Do people slather silverware polish before storing?

* The radio badgers me daily with their opinion that times are uncertain. Uncertainty is not new (if indeed these are uncertain times)-heard of the French Revolution? Plague in the neighborhood? Russia in 1917 if your name was Romanov?

* Early, early, I tiptoe onto the deck and deposit myself in a slice of sunshine. The garden has been shrouded in mist and rain for the last two days. I bask. I breathe. I read. Clouds develop and off I dash back into the house. (Then, thunder)

* I have great fun dissecting thoughts with my room mate. Is there pure grief? Is there ever pure love?

pro, cannot, always

* Simple way to save money:procrastinate. Procrastinate so long that I forget I thought I needed the things I thought I needed.

* I just cannot do it. Vacuum the dirt out of my car and tidy the beach towels I lay down to protect the upholstery. I begin the job then bags of gardeny stuff jump into the car. Plants crawl in unannounced. Long post, boards, wheedle their way through the windows. Muddy wellies take naps under the seats.

* Much has been (treacly at times) written about the glory of waking up to a fresh morning after a night's crisp rain and for me that feeling reoccurs every time and I am thankful for it.

room mate, zzzzzz, smile

* A room mate who is supportive and says, "That sounds good. Do it." (and carries heavy bags of things around to the garden)

* sleep..and sleep... and sleep.

* 'Always Be My Maybe'