Friday, Feb. 24, 2017
Dear Friends,
I got a cheery 5:30 a.m. (8:30 EST) call reminding me of an upcoming doctor’s appointment in Tallahassee. That one fell through the cracks;I should have canceled before. Oh, well, I like to get up at 6 anyway.
I first thought it was Jennifer, who had planned to call at 8, my time. In the dark stupor of sleep, iI wondered if she meant 8 her time. This is the way it is when you take a giant step west.
Thanks to Jennifer, several friends joined for a FaceTime get-together. That is exciting -- being able to connect from over here, across the continent.
Then Zing and I went for a long walk (it was sunny, finally) to check out development on R Street (bars, restaurants, lofts — in buildings old and new. One house that’s still occupied dates to 1910.
We also did a little shopping. I made a wrong turn, but was able to nose along the back streets and get where I was heading anyway. I’m learning.
And what do you think of the Washington Post’s new slogan: Democracy Dies in Darkness — ? My journalist friend Eve likes it, and I hate it. On Facebook Noreen asked why. Here’s what I think:
While I certainly agree with the statement, it sounds like it was written by a committee. It lacks conviction, It doesn't even sound sincere. It's coming from negativity, and it sounds like SOS before the ship goes down. I want the press to lead, not despair.
Eve is an editor on Florida’s East coast. Here’s her link:
On that note, have a great weekend!
Saturday, Feb. 25, 2017
It's barely 9 p.m. and I'm ready for sleep already.
Just came in from final walk with Zing, and there were two fire trucks at the complex next door. Zing and I walked right past — calmly strolling by that awful flashing light.
Earlier today, we walked around the Arena.
Got lost going to Walmart.
Ended up at Land Park, and Zing whimpered. So I pulled to the curb and we walked around Fairyland, which was just waking up. Fathers and their kids. Moms and Grandparents. When we returned to the car, a man asked if it was OK to park there, since there are no parking meters. “Yes, I park here all the time,” I told him confidently.
I didn’t tell him I only ended up there because I was lost.
Later, on Third Street, near our condo, Zing and I walked past a couple of restaurants, and everyone seemed to be looking out the window at Zing. When I finally realized this was happening, I smiled at the diners, and they waved back. Zing doesn’t have to do anything — he simply charms people from the sidewalk.
I’m organizing the studio. Finally. The last step toward making a new home.
Just came in from final walk with Zing, and there were two fire trucks at the complex next door. Zing and I walked right past — calmly strolling by that awful flashing light.
Earlier today, we walked around the Arena.
Got lost going to Walmart.
Ended up at Land Park, and Zing whimpered. So I pulled to the curb and we walked around Fairyland, which was just waking up. Fathers and their kids. Moms and Grandparents. When we returned to the car, a man asked if it was OK to park there, since there are no parking meters. “Yes, I park here all the time,” I told him confidently.
I didn’t tell him I only ended up there because I was lost.
Later, on Third Street, near our condo, Zing and I walked past a couple of restaurants, and everyone seemed to be looking out the window at Zing. When I finally realized this was happening, I smiled at the diners, and they waved back. Zing doesn’t have to do anything — he simply charms people from the sidewalk.
I’m organizing the studio. Finally. The last step toward making a new home.
No wonder I’m tired.
Sunday, Feb. 26, 2017
Nothing much happened today. I took Zing to Grateful Dog — waiting for when I can leave him alone on a quiet Sunday morning! I went to Mass — lucky to be close to a church that is very much in the open spirit of St. Francis. I do not like the Church’s authoritarian and paternalistic history (among other things!), so I skim off the comfort and peace.
Then, at the farmers’ market under the freeway — the one that doesn’t admit dogs — I bought oranges. I told the guy that I’d gotten rotten oranges (squishy and black, deep in the bag from Safeway) “You’ll be back for more next week!” he promised. “We harvest them ripe from the tree. Supermarkets don’t do that.” Tomorrow at breakfast we will see. I love the taste of a ripe orange, and they are decorating trees along the streets here now. Must be the season.
Then, with Zing back, I took a nap on the purple couch, organized my studio some more, ate pasta with butter and cheese. Now I’m going to read the history of the world.
Love,
k
 |
| We passed the Anti-Cooperation League |
No comments:
Post a Comment