city holiday

Usually I work on holidays, so it was a rare treat
to have yesterday off. San Francisco is a perfect
holiday city because there is no traffic, there IS
parking and yesterday there was sunshine all day.
Today there is a thin coastal marine layer, which we
used to call fog, but that is bad for the booming
tourist industry. The dollar is way down (thank
you Mr. Bush and Company), so the city is filled
with people trying to dress like Americans (fresh
jeans and clean Nike running shoes), speaking
many different languages and taking digital photos
of everything the rest of us take for granted.

We had lunch down at the Farmers' Market on the
Embarcadero. There were no outdoor stalls and
hardly any people, so we bought sandwiches at The
Slanted Door and went out to sit on a bench on
the bay. I can't think of a better place to have
lunch as we watched the boats, tourists, city
folks and dogs. San Franciscans give up a lot to
live here - mainly sunny weather and reasonable
housing prices - but to most of us, it's worth it.

one of my faves

From an Atlas of the Difficult World

I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before running
up the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know
you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your
hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn
between bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else
left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

Adrienne Rich

may sarton

My friend Ginger (currently in Kansas)
introduced me to Ms. Sarton back in 1989.
I would recommend her "Journal of
a Solitude", if it's still in print.

I like this statement by May Sarton:
"One must think like a hero to
behave like a merely decent human being.

blog fever

Suddenly my little world has ignited with
bloggy happenings and people asking ME
questions as though I speak HTML or something.
We really can only blame our Salon Mistress
who said those damning words,"some day blogs
will be bigger than emailing". Well, I
didn't want to be the last person on the
blog to jump into the template, so here I am.

Tonight we watched "The Aviator". Fabulous,
3 hours worth of fabulous. I will discuss
it with the Doctor tomorrow at work.

I do have one question. Wouldn't you think the
spell check on a blog site would know what
"blog" is and not try to fix it every time?
Same with "email". Now, really....

mysterious links appear

Check 'em out - right up here in the left hand
corner! I come home from a long (and tedious)
day at work and a miracle has occurred. And
they work. Today The Great Plotnik tells us
a bit about his family Treenik and the South
Coast Viewer features a fabulous North Coast
photo. Thank you Goleta Guy for the links.

Soon I'll add Martha's Big Blogs, I hope. She
was not born with them, folks.

On my walk home I was thinking how I no longer
feel the PRESSURE to publish now that I have NMCP.
1) the final blog product looks so professional
2) people are reading my work and commenting
3) I am writing every day
4) rejection letters (when they bother) are
depressing
Then I check out the musings of the Salon Mistress
who says sort of the same thing - only better.
I choose to write for the sake of writing at
this point in my life.

It is imperative that the Giants beat the Padres.

neatniks and plotniks

I just finished my daily write and now I need to
massage commano here so she doesn't get stale.
I'm enjoying a blog entitled "The Great Plotnik"
and one day I will LINK (there I said the L word)
it here so you can all read it. If you wish to
comment and ask me for the blog, I will send it
to you post haste. I love getting the comments
here, by the way. Three today on last night's
baseball game. A record.

Michael de Goleta was able to link Jane's blog
on my blog, but I can't ask him to keep doing
this because that would be taking advantage
of his bloggy expertise and good nature.

It was not easy going back to work today and
the emails had piled up in triplicate. Very
important, each and every one. We are gearing
up for HP #6 on July 16th. (That would be the
next Harry Potter book, of course). Chaos.

dodgers suck big time

We had a fabulous time at the game last night.
Two home runs each: Pedro Feliz and Moise Alou.
Final score 10-2 (blue). I almost felt sorry
for Dodger Doug. Almost.

golden days

It's unusual to have such fog-free days here
in San Francisco, and 3 in a row on my days
off is unheard of. Yesterday I finished
"Lighthousekeeping" and started "The History
of Love" by Nicole Krauss. Good so far.

The daily writing prompt is: That's Ridiculous

Some irony. Since I am unable to insert links
or photos here, I emailed a picture I took on
Monday of Sutro Baths to my friend in Goleta.
Michael posted it (quickly, I assume) on his blog
and has already had positive comments. Great.

The Giants won last night and we are going
tonight thanks to Dodger Doug. He will wear the
garish blue and we'll be in orange/black. It
will be fun watching Wilson Alverez.

lighthousekeeping

"My mother called me Silver. I was born
part precious metal part pirate."

So opens Jeanette Winterson's fine little
novel about a girl who moves from the side
of a cliff into a lighthouse in Cape Wrath.
Not only does the author skip a comma here
and there (I always like that), but she
weaves a moving story using beautiful words
and unusual phrases. Rich.

keep it simple

Tonight a friend called for some advice on a corporate
kind of problem. Of course she already had all the
answers and just needed to talk it out. During one
such time a friend sent me the following and I still
refer to it when my work life gets catastrophic.

HOW TO SURVIVE A BUSINESS CRISIS

1) Show up
2) Pay attention
3) Tell the truth
4) Trust in the outcome

18 months old!

Happy, happy birthday to Ryan Rosemary in
Pumpkinville. She's a beauty, if only I
could include a photo - maybe when she
graduates from college.

3 days in may

I won't have another little break until I head
to Kansas in July, so these 3 days off seem like
a mini-miracle. And, behold this weather. Today
is a comp for working the wretched Memorial Day
a week from now, but let's not think about that.

Yesterday my store loaned me two new novels which
I will report on later. I also bought an HTML
plastic guide sheet thingy and maybe there will
be a breakthrough on the technical front here
with commano. I would like to include a photo
or two one of these days....

My daily prompt is: make a list and give it a title

That will be easy because I love list-making:
Writing, updating, crossing-off and sharing lists.

Bill and I will drive out to the so-called Great Highway
and walk at the ocean. It will be packed on a day
like this. Don't these people work?

I will read the draft of the second chapter of my friend Martha's
novel and write highly complimentary comments in red because
it is a winner indeed.

Oh, and I'm a little late with Spring planting, but I will
work in our garden today or tomorrow.

The scumsuckers in blue arrive from SoCal tomorrow for 3 scary
games at the Jewel. Those games will take a lot of my energy.

mind the gap

That is what my friend Michael e-said when I told him
I downloaded Firefox yesterday. It appears that this
tedious link issue (we never say "problem" in the
corporate world) has to do with the AOL browser. I
haven't the vaguest idea what to DO with Firefox, so
today I'll look for the book.

It was nice of Bruce Almighty to devote his lunch hour
to MsBook and me yesterday and I thank him. Also thanks
to Dr J for the ride home.

In "On Writing" by Stephen King, he states that if he
doesn't write every day he feels at loose ends and
has sleep problems. Or like that. It's OK, I believe,
to misquote Mr. King. I wonder if he has a blog.

take my computer to work day

Here I am at work with my computer, trying to learn
how to do these friggin' links. I will tell you about
the Writing Salon and maybe link it here.

amber afterglow

I always feel tired and good after my writing
group meets every other Thursday night. Fridays are
difficult, due to lack of sleep, but I chuckle
during the day reviewing what was said the night
before. Tears, laughter and applause. I'm not
much of a "let's join together" kind of woman, but
I felt right at home with these friends from the
very first meeting. The group is called Tiapos
(This Is A Piece Of Shit) because we are not allowed
to give long disclaimers about our work before we
read it. "Tiapos" each of us will say, if we feel
the need to apologize or explain. On the short drive
home from Jane's, I am inevitably smiling and muttering,
"how fortunate am I?",to have these people in my life.

where worlds collide

Yesterday in the bookstore there was a woman cutting
her hair. Big globs of it. Using our scissors,
which another manager took from her citing "health
issues". That's even better than the man in the
red sweater who demanded to know if we carry guns.

comma sutra

Many thanks to Sarah in my writing group
for the above headline today.

You will notice that I misspelled Luddites
in yesterday's post. Thanks for that
correction from a certain Mermaid.

Spellcheck doesn't know sutra or luddite
here in bloggerland.

link field = mine field

Well, let's see how this works when I praise Jane's
wonderful blog today. If it works I thank Michael
in Goleta, if not I go to work and pout all day.

ludites can't link

OK, for now I'm just going to type in Jane Underwood's
web site address. If you want to write (and change
your life for the better) visit:
www.writingsalons.com

I pay to write

I don't write on a daily basis because I...oh, you
all know the reasons. I belong to my mentor/friend
Jane's Round Robin group and she sends us prompts
every day. My goal today is to link her blog site
to mine, but if I don't get it now, I will one day.

Today's prompt: Write About the Last Time you Cried

Easy, I cried on my friend Jen's last day at work. That
was Black Friday, May 6th. She is going to a far, far
better place (Europe), but it is not nearly as "fun"
where I work now. OK, I needn't write the entire 10 minute
assignment here, but it's tempting.