Signatures

https://static01.nyt.com/video/players/offsite/index.html?videoId=100000005831633I love to sign my name. I’m in awe of how popular authors manage to sign many thousands of books. Surely you practiced signing your name at some point in your life. I did!

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In other news…

It’s not often I get to experience something for the first time and something that no one I know has reported… but this week… yup, that’s me!

I was patting myself on the back recently for remembering to restock the old toilet paper after putting the last roll in the bathroom. Pat. Pat. Pat. Well done woman, well done!

Time passes and the day comes to break into the new package and put the next roll on. Something seemed weird from the beginning but it took me a few days to figure it out. And I’ve been laughing ever since because…

This roll of my normal plain ol’ Scot 1000 HAS NO FREAKIN’ PERFORATIONS!

You may begin to laugh now… maybe there’s a poem in there somewhere.

Day Thirteen, NaPoWriMo

I don’t remember if the accompanying gold had a specific name but that green darkened many a kitchen cabinet and appliance in its day…

Long ago, in a childhood
far away in upstate New York
kitchens used to be
avocado,
A color foreign,
dark olive green, not
quite army or khaki
sometimes paired with gold.
But avocado was something
unknown, a mysterious myth
of something which
might be real. Somewhere else.
As a fashion decorating goal
it ceded to red or blue or white
and now, I think, concrete
but what that name,
that dark color meant here,
so close to New England
was not revealed for many years
when a bowl of green appeared
next to chips and that
new thing, salsa
as wonderfully exotic as
the dance of the same name.
Now, feeling time-traveled
like readers arriving
finally at the red planet
we embrace the avocado,
not just for chips
it’s snuck into sandwiches
and now, for breakfast
welcome on our toast.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Here we are in veggie central, but first a look at veggies past:

You rarely have time for everything you want in this life, so you need to make choices. And hopefully your choices can come from a deep sense of who you are. — Fred Rogers a.k.a. Mister Rogers

Or you decide, what the heck, one more vegetable and yes, please, pass the potatoes back here.

Thursday in New Zealand

I have zipped my suitcase shut. Thus endeth my labors for this morning. 

This guy did not help me, lol.

Saturday, Landing In Wanaka But Beginning…

I have a few days of photos to upload and commentary t’boot but today… today folks, the day started with

Cheezehenge:

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-five and My Tuesday

rain on a Tuesday
wind makes it chilly
tree buds just showing color
below a swatch of ski-slope
more rain tonight
but driving home
forsythia
splattered against
hedgerows and yards
splashed across
the wet pavement
and still-dark woods.

Today I went to pick up three books I won at auction at the Milne Library book sale. Then, the plan, weather permitting was to paint on the hill overlooking the Clark. If the weather didn’t permit I figured I could always go inside to the two exhibits I missed last time. The weather held – no rain at least – so I trudged up the hill and set up and started to paint. It was very windy. I had to make a few adjustments to batten everything down after my board with paper tried to fly away. I finished the first landscape and decided to try the Crystal by Thomas Schütte – an installation which is inspired as I recall by New England-y sheds. I walked up the path and found a double door on the back and there I was, inside looking out through the opposite opening. And, conveniently there’s a bench along one of the other walls. So I set up there thinking it nice to be out of the occasional sprinkles and a little more protected, when a burst of wind blew through the opening and pushed out through the two doors. How very exciting. There were two couples that wandered up the path and through the Crystal too but they weren’t anywhere near as exciting as the wind.

View from the Crystal by Thomas Schütte

By the time I started down the hill again I was pretty darn cold. I dumped the painting stuff in the car while wondering if the museum cafe was still open. As soon as the hatchback of the fiat closed, I knew the keys were inside. Started AAA on the way, found out the cafe was closed, warmed up a little inside the building and then went out to wait. Young guy showed up in his big tow truck and had the front door open in no time. His first Fiat, he said.

Drove home. Ordered a few more watercolor supplies. (That’s it. I’m done unless I run out of something. Seriously. No more!) Watched The Voice. Write my NaPoWriMo poem while drinking some peppermint tea. Now I’m going to heat up the bed and go finish The Martian.