Month: September 2024

I met this man on the street as I was leaving the coffee shop and asked if I could take his picture. Then I asked how he was doing in this deeply trump town. His upbeat answer was that “It is hard to be angry with Uncle Sam.” I admired him for this. Especially when I had been told that a local business tried to run him off the sidewalk in front of their store. He reminded them that it was public property and he would walk wherever he wanted…”this is America” he reminded them.

In my neighborhood there is a corner of four houses displaying trump signs. After the debate earlier this week and the obvious decline into the deplorable behavior of their choice to run this country, I would have thought they’d be embarrassed enough to pull their signs in. But, no, all are firmly in place.

And because there are new people moving in, I am embarrassed for them. And ordered my equal-sized Harris for president sign. It will be delivered and stuck in the ground this Sunday. I will quickly take a picture of it in place before it will maybe disappear. Funny how only Democrat signs go missing in this country since trump controls the minds of his believers.

Please let this year be the end of the abhorrent behavior that has taken over an entire political party in this country.

My television died this week. And because I have a kind cleaning lady with an even kinder husband, my new one was quickly hooked up and the old one taken away.

A neighbor and I wanted to have Mexican food but realized that it tastes better with a margarita. A margarita makes driving back home hazardess. So I asked at the liquor store what I needed to make them at home. And was told there exists an already mixed margarita they could sell me instead…Jose Cuervo golden margarita in a nice large bottle. So I brought it home, set up our bar area, bought chips, salsa, and guacamole to go with our take out chicken taco salads.

We finished the meal off with a strawberry/margarita sorbetto. It seems we are both too old to have had a second margarita, so called it a night at seven. Both of us wanted time to rest up before the presidential debate starting in two hours. And I must say that in 2016 I quit hanging an American flag. Embarrassed for my country and having a hard time trying to explain the fear, selfishness, and ignorance that put such a foul human being in the top office to totally befuddled Australians and Canadians, I quit taking pride in our country. But after Joe Biden stepped aside in a selfless move to put his very competent vice president forward as candidate for president, I am breathing the sigh of relief shared by the rest of the free world. I might even get myself a flag!

Here are a couple shots of inside my house where I spend time when it involves food and drink. I have no idea why I took them, but here they are.

It is a good day for writing, so I am going back to my short story, Shadows, and maybe a bit of poetry.

Til later…..

I think the time is flying by in weeks.  Here it is Saturday again. So the day starts with laundry and vacuuming. Latte and English muffin. Water the gardens (which are minimal). Accepting an invitation to meet neighbors later this weekend. Once all of that is done, then pick up with my audio book from the library and draw something.

The basket makers of Tasmania were gathering again so I had to add more to my Gathering Book.

The other day on the way back from the gym.

Night before last my television decided to quit. a year and a half was all it had in it. I spent over an hour on the phone with a heavily-accented technical help person who slowly, very slowly took me through all the steps to get it up and running again. To no avail. I ordered a new one. It will come on Monday. Perhaps when my cleaning lady is here. Hopefully after I return from my early morning every five-week hair appointment.  Then it is just unplug one and plug another in. Simple, right?

Tomorrow morning I will mix up some insect control compound to spray around the house. My cleaning lady says I will only have to do it twice a year. It is time, as the crickets like to come in from the chilly night. Mostly they stay hidden until the cats coax them out. They won’t eat them, which I am happy for. But a lonely male, whining, cricket hidden under a bookcase is not something I want to hear all night.

I went to poetry this week and read Old. The critique comments on the copies returned were positive. But I think that is mostly due to the easy association they had with the idea of arriving in that place themselves. I need to get back to writing more. Since I have decided to not make art work that will only pile up, I need something for my creative mind that will not slow down. This next week I should promise myself to finish a short story and get The Fairy Book available to the public. I do have it all laid out and only need to go over it again. Re-read the introduction and send it in.

I have yet to understand my fellow writers’ need to be recognized and published in esteemed collections. What does it matter? It is the writing that seems so much more important than having some distant and unknown “authority” claim you have been accepted and now recognized. I see that it might matter greatly if you are adding it to a resume that will get you further in a career. But otherwise, just write and then write some more. And do it because the words can’t stay bottled up inside. They need to be lined up on a page, one following the other, until it is said, and then you can get on with the discovery of what comes next.

Here is a bit of philosophical observation from this morning.

There is still way too many “things” still taking up space in my house. Mostly here in the studio….materials, books, tools. How much of this will I even use once I  realized that it won’t be needed. Without students that I would meet on a regular basis, there is little opportunity to get the things into hands that can use it to help their visions be realized. It is hard to keep our work spaces from looking like an old man’s shed full of the “just in case I need it” accumulation.

But, it will find its way out of here one way or another.

I think I am going to pour an early  glass of wine and listen to a man read me a story.

Til later….