my life: e-nriched

I've written a lot about how much I love e-mails (and how I so
hate the phone) and I'm going to cut and paste a beautiful
graph from my friend Kristin who is another word bird in my
life. I don't think she appreciates her talent, plus she is so
busy being a loving mama, but I'm sure she won't mind if I share
her words with you down at the end of this post tonight.

You know they say that writers live twice, but I'm thinking
we maybe live three times because we also get to read our
work later and remind us not only of the details but how
we were feeling at a particular time in our lives.

So here is Kristin's Sunday last in Golden Gate Park with her husband
and 22 month old daughter:

Bill started feeding the pigeons and soon we were very popular (among
the pigeon population). All of a sudden they all flew up in formation and
did huge sweeps over the lake, and they actually looked pretty. The sun
caught the bottoms of their wings and they glimmered like silver leaves. I
couldn't get a picture to do it justice, but I was glad to know that even
pigeons could contribute some measure of beauty to this world.

not my cup o' assam

So I don't like monsters, aliens or scary sci fi stuff, so of
course I disliked Lost although the idea of 48 strangers on a
desert island would work for me. But then all the noise and
the dog and everything, plus the pilot in the tree...nope.
(Assam is a strong British tea, but you knew that)

This morning while reading my New Yorker outside the BART
station I ran into Anne from my first writing class and that
was such a fine surprise. I got to ask her how she named
her baby Lucca (aka Lucky) and YES, they named her
after our favorite deli on Valencia Street!  Lucca Camille,
isn't that a fabulous San Francisco name?  Anyway, Anne
looked even more beautiful than ever - what fun!

this pesky spam business

OK, so I missed a comment from Big Blog Martha, so now
I'm back to anonymous and I will ask that someone try
this new feature because you have to type in amtrak
backwards or something. I think this spam is electronically
generated to hit our blogs and it makes me v. irritable.
I didn't understand the team business either, some
blogger elitist thing, I guess.

getting lost

I broke down and went to Blockbuster on my walk home today
because Netflix has me on the "Wait Forever and Then Some"
for Lost (Disc One). Some of my fellow workers really like
this TV program and I want to see what it's all about. I agree
that the Emmys are contrived and I just watched a little
because I wanted to see Ellen and a few other stars, but of
course I had to go to bed early because I have the opportunity
of opening the store every morning at 6am. Rough, but it
beats the closing shift. Anyway, Lost won for best drama
series, meaning the wait from the Flix might last until Feb.
I hope I love it because I need a new addiction.

for Doctorow fans

Here's a brief review of a new book coming out this week. The March is a fictionalized
account of Union general Sherman's march in 1864, after he burned Atlanta. Sherman
marched his 60 thousand troops east through Georgia to the sea, and then up to the Carolinas.

Almost hypnotic in its narrative drive, The March stunningly renders the countless lives swept up in the violence of a country at war with itself. The great march in E. L. Doctorow's hands becomes something more — a floating world, a nomadic consciousness, and an unforgettable reading experience with awesome relevance to our own times.

writing is/as work

Be sure to read my friend (and teacher) Jane's post
today in her blog Writing Salon Mistress Muses. Funny,
I was thinking the same thing during my work day.
It's usually not a joyful experience for me to write,
I'm tired, I have nothing to say, I have no talent...
well, you all know these reasons and might even
use them yourself.

There are two reasons I write every day in my blog.
1) after 3 years in Jane's fine classes it has been
    drilled into me that writing begets writing, it is
    better to write badly than not to write at all.
2) when I first started commano, Dr J told me that he
    stopped reading his friend's blog because she
    didn't update it enough - so right then and there
    I vowed to write SOMETHING everyday. I mean,
    wouldn't you, if he stopped reading your blog?

and another goodbye

Today I want to wish my friend Bruce Almighty the very
best as he climbs the corporate ladder and transfers to
our store in Sunnyvale. He will be faced with new and
unusual challenges and my only hope is that they appreciate
him half as much as I do. The Almighty was always one
of my favorite employees because:
.he was never late
.laughed at my jokes
.teased me without surcease
.took care of yucky men's bathroom "issues"
.asked lots of questions
.took the service manager phone often and willingly
.helped me with computer problems (plug it in!)
.willingly did whatever we asked of him
.reads everything and shares NYTimes articles
.reads my blog and doesn't write enough in his
.had a gazillion good ideas and implemented them
.created all of our signs and tested me with a few
     misspelled words every now and then
So, I'll really miss you Bruce, but I'm pleased that
you have been promoted because you so richly
deserve this opportunity! Stay in touch...

bumper sticker

I saw this one on my day off, Tuesday.

NIXON IS NO LONGER THE
WORST PRESIDENT EVER

one day, two movies

This morning at 7am I was watching Walk on Water from
Netflix. It was filmed mostly in Israel with a few scenes in
Germany. I highly recommend this movie because it will
give you so much to think about. A story, really, of
friendship, love, forgiveness and redemption. Excellent.

Then this afternoon we went out to the Balboa to see
Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress and that was
a delight. We went with Mr. and Ms. Plotnik and had a
fine time losing ourselves in the mountain region of China.
The film was almost as engaging as the book. Almost.

small thoughts on big creations

I think I'm pretty typical in that I like quick doses instead
of long well-thought out pieces. For instance, I'm reading
(and returning, unread, I'm sure) Shalimar The Clown by
Salman Rushdie. One of his paragraphs (or "graphs" as my
dear Martha would say) is about 1200 words, I think. It
is beautifully written, but by the time I reach the end my
mind is wandering and I'm wondering about walking to Walgreen's
for a sweet.

One of the things we all like best, I believe, about Six Feet Under,
The Sopranos, Rescue Me, Seinfeld, etc. is the staccato pace.
All those intertwined vignettes. Not dwelling on one character or
situation too long. I have a short attention span and I don't think
I'm alone here. Books too - short chapters and even shorter graphs.
(Except Mr. Rushdie.)

Anyway, my friend Kristin asked me about Crash and whether it
was a downer. I didn't think so, although there are some unpleasant
scenes. I'm not a movie reviewer-type, but this reminded me of
Grand Canyon, Magnolia, Short Cuts - all movies that I really liked.
No time to get bored or press the pause button. Lots to think
about and some really interesting L.A. characters. So, yes, I
would recommend Crash with four Mitchell's ice cream cones.
Four out of five, that is. Small cones, that is.

and Barry's b-a-c-k!

Well, isn't this fun? We thought for sure that his very
first hit was a home run - and it was close. Every
pitch was exciting (and there were 10 or more of
them in Barry's firsr at bat). Now we realize just
how much we've missed him: the excitement, the
star power, the knowledge that we are probably
watching the best baseball player ever. By the way,
Baseball As America will be at the Oakland Museum
soon. Straight from Cooperstown. More on that...
now when does Barry hit again?

a poem from my friend will

We have been missing Will this summer because he
and Valerie are in their home in Provincetown, RI.
He is an important member of our writing group
and we eagerly await his return. He e-mailed me
this lovely poem and I will post it this Sunday, in honor
of my friend Joan whose son died a year ago
today. September is a difficult month for so many.

WHAT THE DEAD DO BEST

Will Walker

Though seldom said, it's true: the dead
release us when they die. We do not know it
for a while, we think we hear their voices,
we think they linger in the shadows of cats.
We think we become them, the way
they sneezed, the way they pruned
their roses. And yes they may be with us,
but now so far in love with the world
they watch us raise our glasses to them
and think Ah, a perfect earlobe,
Oh, the rippling sound of laughter,
the profligate perfection of fingerprints!
Then they do what the dead to best: watch a bud
grow to a leaf that lasts a green season,
then free itself in a brief, lit symphony
of flight and recreate itself as loam.
They love to watch a wave
course a thousand miles, pulse
over a whale, lift plankton near Greenland,
then build and break across
the patient sand. They breathe
in centuries. They follow dawn's
quickening birdsong around the globe
for decades. When they feel the need, they drift
into our sleep and light our dreams.
They love it that, through the years,
we realize we, too, are free.

it's september 10th, hurry in to shop

dead trees all over the streets.
Originally uploaded by swissmiss.

Yesterday I put the boxed holiday cards out in our store. I will not carry on about this today, because we have a lot of time yet to talk about the happy holidays and how they turn a reasonably sane woman (who works in retail) into a complete raving maniac by Dec. 25th. My friend Irving always said, "Christmas has us by the throat again" and of course I agree. Just now I spent 1/2 hour on Flickr trying to find the perfect picture - there were more than 2000 PUBLIC photos to choose from and all look amazingly alike. Lots of chubby children and animals under the tree. I wanted something different, so I selected this one by swissmiss. I try to remember when I last really enjoyed this holiday and it would to be more than 20 years ago when we would chuck all this silliness and go to Europe. That was simply the best.

just doing his job

The first item I read in today's Chronicle is
this superb piece by Mark Morford. Read,
enjoy and send him a "thanks" email before
you send it to all of your friends...
Stop! Don't criticize Bush for doing what he was hired to do

sometimes - a poem

Sometimes

Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it  happen to you.

getting my strength back

I'm not a "spiritual person" by any means, but once a week
I go to yoga in a beautiful old  building on Dolores Street in
San Francisco. I guess I've been doing this for 4 years now
because today I was remembering going to yoga the day after
911 and crying throughout the class. I cried some today, but
felt soothed too and it was good to stretch and chant after
all the family stuff, the airplanes and the depressing scenes
of all those poor people down on the Gulf Coast.

If you haven't tried yoga, invest in the Beginners Class and
on this web site you can find the schedules and some basic
descriptions of the classes. Integral Yoga Institute of San Francisco
You will be doing yourself a favor.

still more tears

Since I'm off on Tuesday, I was shampooing my hair in
the shower about 10am this morning and listening to
Ronn Owens on KGO. He played that tremendously
moving tape from the President of one of the Parishes
around New Orleans - the heartbreaking one about his
friend's mother who died in the rest home last Friday.
Waiting for help. I thought I had done all my crying
last week, but there is still more, it seems. The speaker
ends up yelling and crying because he was so, so
angry. Listen for it, if you can take it. And, read this
letter from the New Orleans Times-Picayune in this
fine blog: Critical Cloud

enough with the wave

Even though I said I wouldn't do this thing, even though
my heart has been broken every year since we used to
be season ticket holders at Candlestick (16 years or so)
and even though I said "NOT THIS SEPTEMBER", here I
am watching the damn Giants again and thinking the
unthinkable. Maybe, maybe we can get into the Post
Season and maybe even go on and - why am I doing this
to myself? Why am I hiding in the (dang) kitchen when that
dishonorable Jeff Kent hits what could be a double,
except that Moises Alou makes a fabulous catch...oh
can my heart take this again?

My baseball e-mail friends (Allen, Dougo, Sally and
Kristin) are starting to think Post Season too. We dare
to dream, we check the other teams and even though
Dodger Doug is anti-Giant, he will want us to suffer in
October and his insightful emails will increase in number
and intensity. I feel it, my nerves feel it. Here, late in
the season, I'm trying to figure out which are my lucky
clothes and second-guessing Felipe Alou and hoping
against hope. Those stupid L.A. fans are doing the
WAVE, of all things...so typically SoCal ridiculous.

right where I belong

It's early evening here in San Francisco and the sun
will set in a clear pink fog-free manner tonight.  A
lovely welcome home. Long day again on airplanes,
but this time we had the Sunday New York Times and
some impressive editorials on the ineptitude of our
federal government. In addition, I read the Malcolm
Gladwell article in the New Yorker on health insurance
(or lack thereof) for so many Americans. For a
wealthy nation, we do such a poor job and I was
in a funk of a mild depression because the rich just
collect more wealth, while so many suffer needlessly.
But it's good to be home and I'm starting to
recognize myself again after many days of frequent
smiles, family gossip, bad food, upper middle class
platitudes and long sleepless nights worrying about
those desperate souls on the Gulf Coast.

gazebos & flags

I'm coming up with a theory here about upstate New York.
First, every small town/village/hamlet has a park with a
gazebo. "Precious", as my friend Ginger in Kansas would
say. No one sits in or under these, but today the wedding
will be in the one in Clinton, New York. So maybe they are
Ceremonial Gazebos? I know in movies people use these
gazebos, but so far, not in real life.

Next, the flags. Oh, my, this is a nest of true patriots. Why
just one flag in front of your home when 6 will work better?
And the yellow ribbons. We ALL want our troops to be safe,
we want them home. Now. Yesterday we saw one house with
no flag and a sign that said, "Another Family For Peace"...I
had a moment of hope.

It's always a shock coming from Left WingLand to this other
world of Family Values. Plus you could get a huge house and
a lot of land for around $90,000. Tempted?

middle finger lake

blue lake, ny
Originally uploaded by the omster.

No, no - I just wanted to use The Great Plotnik's line here, it's really Blue Lake and we had a fabulous drive around the
Adirondacks yesterday. There was no traffic and the roads were in fine condition and there were so many lakes that most weren't even on the map. And it isn't commercial here - no billboards, no flashing lights. In fact, few motels and fewer restaurants. We stopped in Speculator (such an odd name) for coffee and fresh fruit and ended up in downtown Utica in the afternoon where we walked and had coffee at the Marbazon Pastry Shoppe & Cafe. So it was a full day of driving and oooohing and aaahing.

The sun is already out and bright this morning and the bridal shower looms. I will spare you family details.

In the meantime, our friend Mr. Moore:
Welcome to MichaelMoore.com! I'm sure you all get his emails, except maybe Dr J.

no fresh fruit?

new hartford, NY
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Here is the view from our motel room after we arrived yesterday about 6pm. Long day on airlines and then a strange rental car with the usual button and knob problems,
then msBook was cranky and didn't want to do anything until this morning, so it wasn't a very good night. But, as usual, the morning is better and we went to iHop where I convinced Bill NOT to have the funnel cakes even though the photo looked pretty inviting. We puzzled over the fact that they had NO fresh fruit at the International House and we muttered some other food-snobby things, as is our wont. But, the coffee was weak and the waitress told us her name, so all is well. I will not discuss dinner last night because it was horrid. But today we will have AN ADVENTURE and are heading to Adirondack Park and I think my next picture will be nicer than the one I'm sending today. This is Free Day and Family Days begin tomorrow.

the very best table

mission bay
Originally uploaded by the omster.

On those rare days when I'm off
and the sun is shining, we like to
buy sandwiches at the working person's
deli on Cesar Chavez and head for
Mission Bay to study the big ships
and to stare at the water. There
was only one other person, a man
fishing on the pier, and a bunch
of laughing sea gulls. It was so
peaceful - a pre-vacation vacation.
Someday this whole area will be
covered with condos and chic
restaurants and our little
graffiti covered concrete
table from today will be gone.

a beautiful overcoat

We saw ACT's The Overcoat yesterday afternoon and I
wanted a little time to think about the play before I write
about it here.  It is glorious, perfect. Based on the short
story by Nikolai Gogol, the 20 or so dancers do NOT
SPEAK A WORD. It is all pantomime and exceedingly
detailed dancing choreographed to the haunting and
dramatic music of Dmitri Shostakovich.

The story is bleak, yet funny. Our hero is Everyman
and he is universally understood, despite or because
of his wordless universe.

As the Salon Mistress often notes, I am a writer who
practices brevity and this production is under two
hours - one too long intermission between two 40
minute acts. Treat yourselves!
(Through Sept. 25th - www.act-sf.org)

today I was happy

TODAY I WAS HAPPY,
SO I MADE THIS POEM

James Wright

As the plump squirrel scampers
Across the roof of the corncrib,
The moon suddenly stands up in the darkness,
And I see that it is impossible to die.
Each moment of time is a mountain.
An eagle rejoices in the oak trees of heaven,
Crying
This is what I wanted.

another trip - no bus or train

On Wednesday my husband and I are flying to
Utica for a big family gathering and wedding.
I myself prefer small gatherings, another person
and myself...or just myself, but that's for another
posting at another time.

I like to travel with one poetry book and one "I'm
hooked" fiction book and some old New Yorkers.
I have not selected the fiction, but I am taking
Risking Everything -110 Poems of Love and
Revelation edited by Roger Housden. Some of
our favorites in here: Cummings, Collins, Neruda,
Oliver and Rilke. Tomorrow I'll treat us to a
short poem by James Wright.

Now you need to read a touching farewell
piece by The Great Plotnik - delightful.
The Great Plotnik

am I on the wrong track?

At the end of September I'm taking Amtrak from
San Jose to Goleta to spend a few days with my
three dear friends who live down there. I bought
my tickets at the Amtrak station in San Jose last
Tuesday. My friend Michael is visiting this week
and I told him that I thought it was ODD that I have
two tickets - long story (boring). Anyway, he looked
it up online and it seems that I am taking a BUS from
San Jose to San Luis Obispo (SLO). Why didn't the
ticket seller mention this? Why am I taking a BUS when
I bought a train ticket? I feel like I'm dealing with some
government agency here - oh wait, Amtrak is...
Anyway, I told Michael just now that this whole thing is
going to be blog fodder and I'll stick with the hand
that I was dealt. Stay tuned...

i'm gaining on you, Lance

A couple of months ago my husband bought a
perfectly fine stationary bike at the Salvation
Army for $50.00.  My excuse for not using it
(more than twice) is that I get bored too quickly.
So today we splurged on a TV at Best Buy ($73)
and then had to go back for an antenna ($13)
and now it is all set up in the garage and I'm
sure there's nothing I want to watch on daytime
television right now.

However, I do want to report that the Toynase
(spelling?) van up there on Harrison next to Best
Buy does have the Best Cubano sandwich in the
city ($6) and next I'm going to try the Large
Taco ($5) and then for sure I'll bike my little
heart out while watching my soaps. It takes 30
consecutive days to get a good habit going, and
about 10 seconds for the bad ones.

naked ladies

naked ladies
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Think of all the disappointed
folks who search this photo out
by the tag I gave it on Flickr.
Anyway, these gals are in our
back yard and have been with us
for 10 years now. Bill, Ginger
(currently in Kansas) and I spent
a glorious week in a rented house
in Mendocino in 1996. Ginger gave
us a Naked Lady bulb because they
grow wild and don't seem to need
any sunshine. We spent the week
in front of the fire, taking walks
and watching the Braves/Yankees
World Series. Yankees beat the
hated Braves - what a fine week
it was.

buses, trains, bad food

Today my husband and I took the train to San Jose,
but first had to take two buses (both late, of course) to
get to 4th and Townsend with only 3 minutes to spare to
catch the 10:07am Caltrain. The trip itself was so pleasant
with lots of room to spread out (we each took two seats)
and of course it beats driving and there is a lot to see,
although it seems that the ugliest parts of cities are
right by the train tracks. Interesting, if not beautiful.
The last bullet train is around 9am, but our non-bullet
only took an hour and a half, and we were not in a hurry.

The San Jose train station is right across from the HP
Pavilion (an unattractive monstrosity) and we walked
about 7 blocks to the heart of downtown. I was amazed
to see people in actual summer clothes without coats
or heavy sweaters and we were able to eat lunch
outside and be perfectly comfortable.  Since we are
San Francisco food snobs, we were not impressed with
the wilted lettuce salad or cardboard sandwich, and
the prices were high even though San Jose doesn't
have the $8.75 hourly minimum wage law that SF does.

It was a good mini-adventure, however. San Jose is
clean and quiet and sunny and sane.  I was glad to
get home to just the opposite.

farewell ruth, david, nate, claire

...Brenda, Maya, George, Rico and the entire extended
family of 6 Feet Under. I just wept through the final
episode and feel like some of my closest friends are
gone forever. Even though the program would often
irritate me (they surely did whine sometimes), the
writing was superb and the acting phenomenal. I
loved how every program would start with a death
and some of those were shocking and unforgettable.
Now I need to get used to life without the Fishers
and it's not going to be easy.

imagine - two gingers!

Today I had a delightful lunch with my other Ginger
friend who lives in Santa Barbara.  We talked about
Italy, friendship, fog/relentless fog, her 3 dogs, her
snake dress, movies, 6 Feet Under, the Orange Man
in Goleta, writing and even (gulp) money. Then I
went to see two of her dogs who were sleeping in
The Great White van but bounced up excitedly
when Ginger unlocked the door. (I know, you need
photos, and you'll get them in October.)

I am taking the Amtrak to visit her and my other two
friends in SB at the end of September and we are
making plans about what to do and see.  Lots of
dog walks and we are going to work on a writing
project - a long hike Ginger and her husband Ern
took a few years ago.  She has a journal, she must
find the journal....

How fortunate I am - friends make my life so rich.

mr. ferlinghetti

The beat poet, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, lives here in
San Francisco and this is a lovely quote from him:
Poetry is the sound of summer in the rain
and of people laughing behind closed shutters
down a narrow street.

my city

There is a dilapidated powder blue car parked in
just the right amount of space in front of our
house. It allows us to park there by our front
door, using half of our driveway. Parking and
housing prices are the two main topics of
conversation in San Francisco.  This silent
agreement between our neighbor and ourselves
is a major accomplishment.

The blue car never moves - it was probably
created back in the 50's. Once in a while our
neighbor will open up the hood or climb under
his car, but we've yet to hear the motor turn over.
This is as it should be.

Today I walked outside and there was a young
woman sitting on the sidewalk with lots of
paint tubes and brushes surrounding her.
"What are you painting?", I asked.
"The Hudson", she answered with a smile.
"Oh."  (Me being dumbfounded.)
"Is it yours?" she asked.
"No, it belongs to the neighbor", I said
and pointed.
I had to look down and see her work and it
looked ever so much better than the old car
that never moves. I love this city.

aqua fresca

Today's writing prompt:
BE THE WATER
I have been thinking about this all day while
I counted money for the bank deposit, dealt
with a couple of unhappy customers, called
corporate to find out why the computers
and the phones were all dead, picked up my
project at Kinko's and talked to my fellow
managers about a new hire.
I so appreciate having something other than
work to think about when I'm working.
However, I still have no idea what I will write
about - would you?

back in the game

Suddenly the Giants are playing extremely well and
I'm back to the breathing with every strike. There is
really nothing quite as exciting as a well-pitched,
tight game that we win. The kind of game where
I have to watch from the other room because it's
too scary to be too close to.  On the other hand,
the A's have crumbled way before I thought they
would, they usually save that for September.

walking on goldsworthy

de young floor
Originally uploaded by the omster.

You will have to click to
enlarge this photo of the
new "faultline floor" here
at the entrance to the new
De Young Museum in Golden
Gate Park. Those lines run
up and through the stone
slabs...like a real fault-
line. Andy Goldsworthy
brought all of this from
Yorkshire: stones, slabs?
How? It's beautiful, but
easy to overlook. Sorry,
you can't really see the
entrance doors here...

jen is in Paris

Notre Dame Gargoyles III
Originally uploaded by omj.

Today we were discussing
a man sleeping on the 4th
floor of our store. We
all had guesses as to
which of our sleepers it
was: guy in the jean
jacket? the stalker? Mr.
Smell Bad? But Jen gets
to go to museums and to
Notre Dame to look at
these gargoyles that I
found on Flickr.

another billy collins poem

This is from the New Yorker, 7/25/05

     STATUES IN THE PARK

I thought of you today
when I stopped before an equestrian statue
in the middle of a public square

you who had once instructed me
in the way of equestrian statues.

A horse rearing up with two legs raised,
you told me, meant the rider had died in battle.

If only one leg was lifted,
the man had elsewhere succumbed to his wounds;

and if four legs were touching the ground,
as they were in this case --
bronze hooves affixed to a stone base --
it meant that the man on the horse,

this one staring intently
over the closed movie theatre across the street,
had died of a cause other than war.

In the shadow of the statue,
I wondered about the others

who had simply walked through life
without a horse, a saddle, or a sword --

pedestrians who could no longer
place one foot in front of the other.

I pictured statues of the sickly
recumbent on their cold stone beds,
the suicide toeing the marble edge,

statues of accident victims covering their eyes,
the murdered covering their wounds,
the drowned silently treading the air.

And there was I,
up on a rosy-gray block of granite
near a cluster of shade trees in the local park,
my name and dates pressed into a plaque,

down on my knees, eyes lifted,
praying to the passing clouds,
forever begging for just one more day.

Billy Collins

the New Yorker

One day soon I will be copying another Billy Collins poem
that was in a recent New Yorker.  My husband marked
it and said, "for your blog?" and he will often comment
on a short story, poem or article that he particularly likes
and doesn't want me to miss.  That is one of the things
that we have in common, we both love the New Yorker.

I grew up in a Life Magazine household, but when I had
orthodontia work done in high school, the dentist's office
kept this exotic (to me) magazine in the waiting room.
As soon as I graduated from college I subscribed and
have loved the magazine ever since. The covers, too,
of course, are outstanding.  I'll never forget the one
after 9/11 - just a big solid totally black cover.

My love for the city of New York was probably
influenced by the magazine, too.  I'll type up the poem
for the blog tomorrow - it's a good one.

we love secrets

Here's a nifty little community blog where
people tell their secrets in a safe and
(maybe) anonymous way. I don't know if
I have the necessary art talent, but like most
of the world, I do have my share of secrets.
So have a look-see and enjoy...
PostSecret

in a writing mood

Tonight is Tiapos (my writing group) and I have a
small first draft piece about our upcoming trip to
Utica, NY, for our grand daughter's wedding. I
tried to make it a little amusing, even though I
am not looking forward to this huge celebration
with family members from all over the globe.
But I'm sure it will be fine...

I'm hooked

I started two books worth reading a few weeks ago,
but I can't seem to get into them, so I borrowed
a copy ofThe Broker by John Grisham. What fun!
Bruce Almighty recommended this as his August
Staff Selection and I wondered if the original great
story teller Grisham had returned, and it seems as
though he has.  I believe he got a bit lazy or dried
up or whatever for a few of his books there in between
the original "big hits" and the last ten or so average
(or less) novels.  But this is a superb story - fast moving,
with just the right amount of tension that builds from
the very first page. So, back to Italy...

always amending

In the tomato recipe below, you'll want to cut
the big guys into nice wedges and the little
cherry size stay as they are.  Best to wash them
all too - like, der...

tomatoes a la plotnik

There are 3 glorious things about August:

1) blueberries
2) tomatoes
3) naked ladies (the pink wild flowers -
       photo to follow one day soon)

Today we went to Whole Foods and spent
$20 on tomatoes - all colors, all kinds.
Last year The Great Plotnik gave me this
easy recipe for a BIG bowlfull of splendor:
.lots and lots of tomatoes
.thinly sliced red onion marinated in
   lemon juice and kosher salt (put in later)
.basil leaves, chopped - from your garden
.tablespoon red wine vinegar
.tablespoon balsamic vinegar
.3-4 tablespoons olive oil
.kosher salt
.lemon juice
Let the whole thing stand in the cool and
foggy SF climate - add the red onion
and serve with expensive bread as a salad
or even a main dish. (Taste it first, adjust)

another goodbye

I'll always connect the Millennium with Peter Jennings
who wore a tuxedo and worked from one edge of
the continent to another.  Our anchor of choice
died too young and too soon and even though ABC
had to show a football game tonight, the other news
stations talked about his life.  It turns out he was an
anonymous volunteer at a soup kitchen in NYC,
among other notable accomplishments. He was a
good and compassionate man.

it's easy not to write

I've been struggling to say something pithy
here in this blog and feeling guilty when I don't
write, or fill-in with photos and poems.  The
first and most important thing I learned when
I started at the Writing Salon 3 years ago is
that I don't have to be in a writing mood to
write.  I just have to write. That's really all
there is to it.  So here's a quote (to fill).

It's easy, after all, not to be writer. Most
people aren't writers, and very little harm
comes to them.
     Julian Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot

If I wanted to take the easy way out, obviously,
I wouldn't have taken all the writing classes
and filled my house with "How To Write" books.
No pain, no joy, no new group of writing friends
who mean so much to me. Onward.

not for the misbegotten

I'm ashamed to say I had to look that word up, even
though I've seen the play twice. It means of
illegitimate birth or of dubious origin.  As an adopted
child, I was always sensitive to the "illegitimate"
word and am pleased that we live in a time and in
the Bay Area, where I don't hear that word used
about children anymore. It's just plain mean.

But, I did want to write about the moon over there
to our right. Thank you, Michael, for somehow
getting it from the moon web site to my blog. For
one thing, we can now tell for sure if Ryan's
sleep issues coincide with the full moon.  She is
only 21 months old and her father has A Theory
about the full moon and her snooze button.

I do know for sure that our customers get crazier
when the moon is full, so now I can plan ahead
and prepare myself for dealing with those moon
soaked men and women in the weeks ahead.

Oh, you can click under the waxing crescent and get
right into the web site.  How cool is that?

hear the bells?

SF city hall
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Last Tuesday, our dear
friends Kristin and Bill
were married here at San
Francisco's beautiful
City Hall. Their two
daughters (Claire and Ryan)
were the witnesses and then
they had a festive lunch at
Max's where Ryan (21 months)
played happily with all the
items on the table. It
was a happy day indeed for
everyone (except maybe the
waitress).

back to class

The Salon Mistress just asked me to do some daily
writing (for a week) as a substitute in the Round Robin
class. Perfect timing because I have been using the
term "writer's block" when I really should be saying
"lazy, lazy" and haven't written much of anything
for a week or two.  Commano keeps me interested in
the written word, but it's too easy to copy a poem
or find an intriguing photo, and we all know the whole
reason I have the blog is because I promised to write
every day.  So I'll copy down the daily prompts now
and get back in the saddle.  Hi Ho Silver....

at our fingertips!

Imagine spending two minutes and no money and being
able to find any (it seems to me) photo that you want
to see or send or post on your blog, or whatever. There
are many of these free photo sites, but I am so
delighted with Flickr, that I'll be loyal to that one.
Welcome to Flickr!
A few of my photos are in my account there (I email
them in) and then when I need the Trevi Fountain I
just do a search and about 100 photos are waiting
for me to click and enjoy.  The only minor complaint
I have is that some folks like to empty their cameras
and there might be 10 shots of the same building
from the almost-same location.  But I have learned
to quickly scan through those boring photos.

Trevi Fountain - Fontana de Trevi

Trevi Fountain - Fontana de Trevi
Originally uploaded by Vir2005.

I love travel emails
and this year Jen
has been writing from
Italy, the Great Plotnik
from South Africa (and
me from Kansas.) There
is something so personal
and immediate about
the beautiful "I'm
sitting in an internet
cafe in Orvieto" emails
and I'm posting this
photo for Jen, who
recently tossed three
coins in here - just
like she's supposed to.
Keep writing, Jen!
Welcome home G. Plot!

Moonrise Mosaic

Moonrise Mosaic
Originally uploaded by 2005tigarn.

I am currently enamored of the
moon and found this on Flickr.
I wish I knew where it was
taken. Soon this very blog
will have a moon chart thingie
and it will change as...oh,
never mind, we'll see it soon
enough. But it's quite special.

how to enjoy a poem

Japan


Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.

It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.

I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.

And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

It’s the one about the one-ton
temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.

When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.

When I say it into the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its peppery wings.

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing for you,

and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.


Billy Collins

museum lite

One of my favorite activities during the work day is
to visit the SF Museum of Modern Art - on 3rd Street,
about 10 minutes away from my work place.  It's
easy with a membership because I don't have to wait
in line and I don't feel guilty if I only spend 1/2 hour
(or even less) at each exhibit.

Yesterday I went specifically to see the photographs from
the Paul Sack collection. These are arranged (as best I
could tell) by dates and places/people, but I will be
going back before the exhibit ends in early September.
At that time I hope to give you a little more information.
Paul Sack, by the way, is one of the city's "good" developers.

There are more than 250 photographs - the earliest from
the 1850's and they include all the best: Steiglitz, Diane
Arbus, Weston, Walker Evans, etc.  There is a spectacular
1878 panorama of SF (by Muybridge) that covers an entire
wall, but there were too many people in front of it, so I'll
return when the museum is less crowded.

I checked out the Tuttle exhibit, but I don't get too
excited about pieces of colored card paper attached to the
walls, so I hurrrumphed and left.  Oh, don't miss the wall of
individual wires that were neither pretty nor interesting.

all's well today!

Msbook was mended for a mere $78 and I'm feeling
secure and complete now. I had to use my old msMac
and she is slow and tired, plus I don't have blogs and
important information at my fingertips when I compute
with her.  (Work horse that she was for many years.)

Tonight is Tiapos, my writing group, and I always look
forward to that.  I dug out two old daily writes to take
with me - both are vaguely amusing because I've been
writing too much heavy stuff for the past few months
and I'm tired of that right now. 

The first piece is about selling cats to unsuspecting
people and including many rolls of paper towels for
the little cat messes, also a 4 ft. high mousy bank so
the owner can start saving for future vet bills.
The second one is entitled The Last Time I Told a
Lie and, surprisingly, it is about one of the times I
lied to a customer.  I had forgotten about that
incident, so this is yet another good reason to keep
a written record.

on the DL

Poor msBook is at hospital and we don't know
when she will return. Maybe a day or two. I took
her to the highly recommended Total Mac on
Geary Street (originally recommended by the
Salon Mistress) and I trust them and their
work - reasonable, too. My first quote (from
another repair shop) was $500, but Total Mac
will patch her up for under $100. So I'm on the
slowest iMac ever created and asking Michael to
put this on my blog today. Back soon!

su doku

On the cutting edge, pushing the envelope...
that's me through and through. Well, it's
most certainly not, but there is a peculiar
new number-placing puzzle that recently
appeared in the Chronny, right below our
friend Bizarro.  Then today our corporate
office wrote about some new Su Doku books
that will be arriving, and a few of us at work
have been playing around with this intriguing
puzzle that is a BIG DEAL in Japan and NY.
Yes, it is addictive...

kansas sunset

kansas sunset
Originally uploaded by the omster.

This was last night
right after our salads
and before the gigantic
bowls of ice cream.
I'm happy to be home,
but I'm missing my
friend - I had a most
wonderful time!

topeka

topeka
Originally uploaded by the omster.

This is a store in a
depressing (yet busy)
mall in Topeka.
I don't know what
else to say about
this whole public
Christianity thing,
except I think it's
dangerous.

the little apple

the little apple
Originally uploaded by the omster.

cristo in kansas?
We saw this on our
Saturday morning
walk in Ginger's
neighborhood in
Manhattan, KS.

errata

That town with Best Buy yesterday was Topeka,
not Wichita.  Sheeeesh, how could I make that
error?  Up early and getting ready for the drive
to Kansas City this morning for Midwest Airlines.
Looks like hot weather in SF, too. Hooray!

cameras & penguins

Record heat all day today, but that didn't stop
us from a 6am walk and then a busy day going
to Best Buy in Wichita for Ginger's camera.
That place is mostly shopping malls, it seems,
so it didn't appeal to me one bit.  However,
the camera was purchased and we'll work on
it tonight.  A knowledgeable sales person helped.

Next we drove to Lawrence which is a totally
delightful little college town with a long street
(Massachusetts) with tons of cute shops
and colorful flowers and shade trees. We had
lunch there, then went to see The March of
the Penguins movie which we both loved.

Going home tomorrow and I'll miss the peace
and quiet here, but mostly I'll be sad to say
goodbye to my dear/dear friend.  Now let's
see if I can get a Kansas sunset photo to
end these little trip notes.

serene spot

backyard
Originally uploaded by the omster.

apple tree
pear tree
buddha statue
wind chimes
bird feeders
bright red cardinals
many other birds
fireflies
locusts
peace
lattes
ice cream
tears
laughter
friendship

full color kansas

I'm sitting in G's backyard this morning wondering
how all those people in TV commercials work on
their laptops outdoors, because it is very hard to
see the screen.  But too soon it will be too hot out
here and I need to be outside in this lovely, quiet
place. It's about 9am now and heating up quickly.

"The fascism of beige", G said to me yesterday as
we drove around this area. In SF the homes (and
businesses) are all painted in every color possible
and I had forgotten this beige and brick world. I
think of BeigeLand more in the terms of SoCal
(Azusa, La Burba, Glendale, etc.) and now I am
guessing that most of America is safely beige.

"If you let them, they'll embroider the whole world
the color of goose shit" - Jacques Brel...misquoted,
probably. But germane.

Despite the lackluster surroundings, we had a most
delightful day yesterday - mostly talking and then
some more talking.  On our 2nd trip to the small
off-white airport, my luggage had arrived! The poor
clerk was so excited and relieved that he didn't have
to face my wrath, that Ginger and I burst into yet
more laughter. He jumped out from behind the desk,
ignoring other customers, to bring me the black
suitcase with the little red bow.  Just shows what a
few un-Kansaslike words can do from time to time.

"It's a sign of respect", G translated to me after the
43rd person said, "yes, Ma'm" to one of us.  We, of
course, know where they can tuck that respect.

In the afternoon Ginger took me out to see Tuttle
Creek Dam (and lake) and it is a beautiful spot.
Almost deserted, but on weekends they have concerts
and picnics and I could easily picture that. It is lush
and green here, one forgets.

So after a delightful full night of sleep I am having
some coffee and taking the cowboy walk again.
G was off to work early, but she'll be home around
noon for lunch - we don't want to miss any calories
on this trip.  So far, so good.

I am extremely content - a fortunate woman am I.

sunrise in kansas

sunrise in kansas
Originally uploaded by the omster.

It was already getting hot
at 6am this morning.

from the heartland

My goal today is to get a close-up photo of a bright red cardinal (bird,
not baseball) and see how many lattes I can drink before noon.
Ginger and I stayed up late talking and were up early for a
walk before it gets too warm.  I'm sitting on her back deck
now, looking out over her huge back yard and listening to the
birds chirp-chirp.  It seems so much closer to nature here
than it does in SF.  Probably because it is.

"Luggage is for amateurs" my friend Michael in Goleta tells me, so
I'm not worried that my suitcase didn't arrive in that way
too small 19 seat noisy little plane from KC to Manhattan
last night. The airport in KC was dead, but Ginger assures
me that no one in their right mind comes to KC in July. Oh.

One of the best things about being stuck on an airplane is
having time to read articles that I won't read otherwise:
elephants in Africa with stumpy trunks, Gertrude Stein's
affair with May Somethingorother (infuriating Alice B. so
much that she made Gertrude cross out any "may" word
in her writing, forcing her to use "could" instead) and
then losing myself in the Phillipa Gregory Other Boleyn Girl
book which is a little hard to believe, but it IS fiction and
I do tend to judge too harshly sometimes.

I think today we'll get Ginger a digital camera and set that
up.  Then we'll talk some more about everything under the
hot midwestern summer sun and maybe head for a large
bookstore so I can cast my critical eye once again.

plugs & gadgets

I've been packing for my trip to Manhattan, Kansas
off and on today and thinking a bit of how the world
has changed so much in just the past ten years.
For instance, now I can't travel without my trusty
laptop (msBook) or my camera and all the many
accessories that go with them. The camera gobbles
batteries, so I need to include extras and a battery
charger, too. Of course the cell phone needs its
recharger and all these quasi-tech items take up
blocks of space.  I barely have room for the pound
of Peet's coffee and seldom-worn sleeveless tee
shirts and shorts. It's going to be so sweet to be in
real summer weather - hot nights, fireflies, locusts
humming as soon as the sun goes down, and no
fog as thick as cookie dough the way it is here today.

jodie foster!

Imagine my surprise to see her in the delightful French
film A Very Long Engagement which we watched
tonight. I enjoyed the movie because it was filled
with mystery and sorrow and the strange quiet
beauty of the French countryside. Alas, the World
War I war scenes were almost as horrific as real
war, or so I imagine. Four plus stars.

mary oliver

City Arts & Lectures is bringing Ms. Oliver here in
November and I hope to get tickets.  Here is one
of her poems that makes me feel like I know her
just a bit.

               Answers

If I envy anyone it must be
My grandmother in a long ago
Green summer, who hurried
Between kitchen and orchard on small
Uneducated feet, and took easily
All shining fruits into her eager hands.

That summer I hurried too, wakened
To books and music and circling philosophies.
I sat in the kitchen sorting through volumes of answers
That could not solve the mystery of the trees.

My grandmother stood among her kettles and ladles.
Smiling, in faulty grammar,
She praised my fortune and urged my lofty career.
So to please her I studied - but I will remember always
How she poured confusion out, how she cooled and labeled
All the wild sauces of the brimming year.

jacarandas

jacarandas
Originally uploaded by the omster.

(My friend Kristin calls me The Omster
because I go to yoga.) But back to
these wonderful trees and the fact
that I can actually post this photo
myself. What a major sense of pride
and accomplishment I have today!
The trees are on 25th Street near
Harrison in the Mission District
of San Francisco.

the mac addict

Bruce Almighty showed me this article in the August issue of
MacAddict about blogging and isn't this something:
Some estimates claim that there are 60 million blogs on the
Web these days....(blah blog stuff) and about half a million
new blog posts appear daily.
I was particularly interested in a little graph on Photo Hosting
because I am frustrated that I can't send a picture every
now and then from iPhoto.  For instance, did you not want
to see the jacaranda trees on 26th Street?  They only grow
in the Mission district of San Francisco, not out in those
cold avenues or downtown. But I can't send it, so there.
Anyway, the author recommends Flickr (www.flickr.com)
so I'll check that out sometime after my trip to Kansas
next week when I'll be rejuvenated and can face technical stuff.

celebrate bastille day!

I happen to love the French citizens, however I
thought you might enjoy this quote from the
American writer, P.J. ORourke:
The French are sawed-off sissies who eat snails
and slugs and cheese that smells like people's
feet. Utter cowards who force their own children
to drink wine, they gibber like baboons even when
you try to speak to them in their own
wimpy language.
I will add that they still smoke which is totally
obnoxious and rude. In my humble opinion...

the birds of SoCal

I'm proud to announce that my friend Joan has a
brand new book coming out.  She has put a lot of
work into this and deserves all the glowing praise.
Joan is a dear newly rediscovered friend - we went
to the University of Colorado together and then
lost track of each other for a few decades.  I'm
thrilled to have her back in my life.  Check out
the book and congratulations to her.
Introduction to Birds of the Southern California Coast

getting impersonal

I've been thinking about this passage from A Long Way
Down by Nick Hornby.  First, and least important, it
appears that young Brits say "Der" instead of "Duh".

Anyone who knows me understands that small town
living doesn't appeal to me ("you'd be lynched", my
husband tells me). Bucolic is out. I don't want anyone
knowing what I do or say, even if I don't do or say one
thing particularly interesting.  I love the anonymity of a
big city, the big bookstore, a busy Starbucks, etc.
I never, however, considered this to have to do with
confidence.  So this drew my attention...
From the musings of Jess, a teenage girl in London:
I like to know that there are big places without windows
where no one gives a shit. You need confidence to go
into small places with regular customers - small book-
shops and small music shops and small restaurants
and cafes.  I'm happiest in the Virgin Megastore and
Borders and Starbucks and PizzaExpress, where no one
gives a shit, and no one knows who you are. My mum and
dad are always going on about how soulless those places
are, and I'm like, Der.  That's the point.

flixlist®

Actually, creating a book list is right up my alley because,
if nothing else, I am a list maker.  For some reason,
after we started with Netflix back in 04/04, I have
kept track of every movie we have rented.  I could count
them now, but that would not interest all my readers,
would it?  Suffice it to say that the first movie was
Under the Sand and the most recent Intimate Strangers.

We are the reason the movie theaters suffer.  We used
to spend about $40 a week on one movie, two popcorns,
coke. Now it's $20 a month for the Flix and we average
about 8 to 10 movies a month.  (My husband and I could
never successfully share a box of popcorn, so that means
we paid more than normal couples.)  I think Netflix is
a brilliant concept and I made some $$$$ once saying
nothing much at a focus group they had at their corporate
headquarters down in Los Gatos.  So I'm extra loyal.

and he writes every day

OK, I've started a folder here on my desk top and I will
be listing my all-time favorite books.  What a challenging
project, thanks Salon Mistress! Give me a few weeks, here.

Now I want to talk about Stephen King because he is such
an accomplished writer.  I don't particularly like his horror
stories, but once in a while the New Yorker will publish one
of his short stories - and it will be outstanding.  And I
truly appreciated The Shawshank Redemption and   
The Green Mile.                              

His book On Writing is, of course, nonfiction and he is
painfully honest about his addiction to drugs and alcohol,
but he also has some terrific writing tips.  For instance
King talks about how important it is to have a special
place, even if its very small, just for writing. He covers
the basics too: verbs, nouns, dialogue, plot, narration,
description, etc.  And he emphasizes that all writers
need to read and then read some more.  Well, that
part I got right.

Then, at the end of On Writing, Stephen King lists his
favorite books.  A few too many in the horror genre,
but I've read and loved these that aren't:
.Smilla's Sense of Snow
.The Poisonwood Bible
.Enduring Love
.Into Thin Air
.To Kill a Mockingbird
.The Secret History
But now I need to work a bit on My List.

appreciation day

Today all of us workers get 40% off, so I bought five books
and a cassette of 1776, unabridged, of course. The one
poetry book is Adrienne Rich's An Atlas of the Difficult
World  because it has that poem that everyone loves
("the bookstore poem") which begins "I know you are
reading this poem..." I need to devour more of her work.
The other books:
.Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
.The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
  (The Salon Mistress recommended this)
.The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory
  (because our women customers sing her praises)
.The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan
  (who can write no wrong - also this book is on
   Stephen King's "list of 100 best" which I hope  
   to conquer within the next 5 years)
I'm sort of like a kitten with a new sockful of
catnip tonight and ready for a boring plane trip.

3 o'clock curtain

I love intense theatre in a small setting, so going to
see ART this afternoon was a delight.  I also prefer
one act plays with lots of conversation - half price
tickets, too.  I highly recommend this 85 minute play.
The San Francisco Playhouse is about 1/2 block from
work, upstairs at 536 Sutter.  As you've probably
read, the story is about a piece of "modern" art, but
it is really about friendship and change.  One quote
I remember, "no true friendship ever begins because
of rational thought", or like that. Meaning, I think, that
friendship is based more on emotion and feeling than
rationality. The actors, as it turns out, are all regular
customers in our store - that made ART even better.
It runs through July 30th. sfplayhouse.org

lunch with willie

I had to walk back and forth to Kinko's twice today
because they keep screwing up our projects, but I
was cheered on the final walk to see our ex-mayor
Willie Brown and his friends Harry deWildt and
Wilkes Bashford having their traditional Friday
lunch at Le Central on Sutter.  I've always liked
Willie, but I have had to defend him often. He is
so very San Francisco, even if he's from Texas.

back to CNN

I hate these times when we have to turn on CNN. They
do the best job with the writing, reporting and photography.
We've been to most of those places in London and Bill's
counsin lives in Edgeware so we're waiting for an email
from him.  The look of shock on the faces of the Brits is
too much. When I got up this morning I thought, "today
is 07/07 - a lucky day".  Wrong again.

slightly sinful

One of the best things about foggy summer days is being
able to watch movies in the afternoon without feeling
too guilty.  Today, however, there was some sunshine,
but we watched movies anyway.  First Rescue Me that
Bill taped last night and next Enduring Love based on the
book by McEwen.  That book has the best opening scene
I've ever read (that I can remember) and the movie
captures it pretty well. Samantha Morton was excellent
in the lead.  Now I have True Romance that Dr J loaned
me about a month ago. Tarantino directs, so it
should be a good one.

thoughts on friendship

I was going to write a little bit about how very lucky
I have been in my life because I have such truly fine
friends.  Then I thought, sheeeeesh, I've also been
lucky with love.  Final thought: is there a connection?
Right now I'm not going to discuss the first phase
passion-glorious stage of love (which has been written
about by people far more talented than I), but about
the everyday "I'm glad to see you - let me tell you
about the neighbor with the blue SUV" give-and-take
how-was-your-day kind of love. I'm wondering
if that's why some relationships just don't seem to
work - the friendship factor somehow goes awry and
bickering enters to fill the void and becomes a habit.

All leading up to my thoughts on going to Kansas in
two weeks to see my oldest friend, Ginger.  We have
been friends for more than 30 years and that makes
both of us extremely proud.  If you're like me, you've
lost a few friends along the way, and even though they
may appear in our thoughts and dreams, the closeness
is definitely gone forever. 

I don't think there is one thing that Ginger doesn't know
about me. We have been through the muck and mud
together and we have laughed and cried too many times
to count.  How many miles have we walked? She has
taught me more than my mother ever did and through
her I have actually begun to realize my full potential.

So those are my disjointed thoughts on friendship and
love for now.  I'm guessing that people who make good
friends would make for good partners too - but of
course there are always exceptions, aren't there?

a patriotic act

For the 4th of July, I am going to offer you this blog site
that is doing the job that newspapers are supposed to
be doing, and aren't.  It was created by Mr. and Ms. Fesmire
of Sunnyvale, Calif.  who are outraged by the war in Iraq. 
Oh, sorry, make that the invasion of Iraq. Their goal is
to "awaken the mainstream media" to the series of eight
leaked Blair administration memos that were almost
ignored.  The blog has had more than 700,000 hits
since it started on May 13 of this year.
The Downing Street Memos :: The Blog

truth in poetry

THE JOURNEY

by Mary Oliver


One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life that you could save.

agnostic prayers

We are all worried about whether the BART employees will
strike next week.  It is a less than perfect system, but those
of us who take those trains have little patience with smelly
and crowded Muni buses.  We will know on Wednesday if
the strike is on of off.  Settle, folks.

gloria & self esteem

Self-esteem isn't everything; it's just that there's
nothing without it.
Gloria Steinhem

I was and still am a huge fan of Gloria Steinhem.  The
last time I saw her was on Actor's Studio when Jayne
Fonda was the guest star - several months ago when
Jayne's autobiography was published. Even though
Gloria was bold and strident during the hey dey of the
women's movement, she was able to deflect anger
because of her warmth, beauty and very sharp sense
of humor.  We wouldn't have come so far without her.

I am proud to be a feminist and I call myself a woman
with pride.  I do not want to be a girl or a lady.  For some
reason many women don't like to be called women, I guess
it's some sort of fear of aging thing.  Men don't mind being
called men.  But here's another quote, this one by Rebecca
West, an English novelist:
I myself have never been able to find our precisely what
feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist
whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from
a doormat.

a long way down

Today I'm going to bring home Nick Hornby's new novel
and here is an extremely interesting interview with him:
Powells Books - Nick Hornby

the missing link

Here we are - my friend Jane. The blog is under
remodel currently, so pardon our dust.
Writing Salon Mistress Muses

3 excellent years

I didn't start writing until 3 years ago when I joined Jane's most
wonderful class at the Writing Salon in Bernal Heights.  I selected
the Personal Essay class because it worked with my schedule,
even though I knew that I had absolutely nothing to say.  Since
that magical night I have produced three full notebooks because I
have written almost every day.  I followed the first class with a
few more classes and then participated in 4 (count them - four) of the  
Round Robins wherein we are assigned prompts and partners and
write every day for five or so weeks.  Wowza.

My work is on my computer and also in the notebooks and I really
need to do some organizing and make some decisions about what
to do with all this material.  When one writes this much, certain
themes emerge and I will write about these at a later date.  Suffice
it to say that when Jane complimented me I would glow for days
and email her comments to my friends who would respond with,
"way to go, Girl", because I have been blessed with supportive
friends who would like me to quit my day job and write all day long.

But tonight, I just want to celebrate the Writing Salon and urge
anyone who wants to join a community of warm and loving people
and stretch some of your muscles, take some chances, have some
laughs and tears, to click on Salon Mistress Muses (and God knows
where those links are floating around now) and change your life
for the better - as I did.  Thank you, Jane.