My Christmas decorations

A tree, a rock, a cloud

I'm thinking in fragments lately. Because I'm teaching the kids not to use them and I'm perverse? Because I'm scatterbrained? I don't know. I'm trying to write lately about my daddy, and the only way I can is in fragments. I fancy them up and call them "vignettes," but I know what they really are.

He's kind of like Ozymandias in the Shelley poem--"two vast and trunkless legs of stone" are all that's left. Anyway, I have four or five little Daddy fragments, not enough to say I'm working on a book yet, and all my eye notices is a bit of a landscape here and there. So there they are, little pieces of my town.

I'm thinking Carson McCullers was right; to love, you have to start with little things--a tree, a rock, a cloud, and go from there. Or a meter, a paintball building, a fence. Daddy would have no idea what I'm talking about.

Recalcitrant Geisha--Arty Girlz' Challenge

This is mine for Arty Girlz' Blue and Yellow Challenge
http://artygirlzchallengeblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/arty-girlz-challenge-75-blueyellow.html

Walt Whitman at the disco

The Dark--for Mixed Media Monday

A nuit, tous les chats sont gris

Flashlight

More men who look good on paper

I'm in love again. Last month it was the Athens chef; last night Alberta, Mr. Alberta, and I were serenaded by these captivating men in tangerine pantsuits, and it was a good thing their guitar straps said, "Police line, do not cross" or I wouldn't even be here this morning.

I tried to get Mr. Alberta to request "Ring of Fire" but he was deep into a fit of shyness brought on by his second margarita. Anyway, out of respect for our own impetuousity, Alberta and I better not go back to Frontera for a while.

XLo05's 73rd birthday card

“Chickie, my chickie, my craney crow”
The children mark off a space for their home; the old witch comes along, and they follow her, chanting, “Chickie, my chickie, my craney crow went to the well to wash her toe. What time is it, old witch?” The witch answers, “Six o’clock” (any time she chooses). They repeat the whole until she says, “Twelve o’clock,” whereupon she tags as many as possible and puts them in her home. The whole thing is repeated until all children are tagged. The last one caught is witch for the next time.

Hula girl

Meet hula girl, my new bff, from my new favorite coffee shop in downtown Monroe.

My muse (bottom right corner)

My new boyfriend

It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, whether he uses trans fats in cooking, or even whether he's available; I'm in love with a chef. I mean, just look at him. Have you ever seen anything any cuter? When Alberta and I were wandering the streets of Athens Saturday night looking for an art store, I saw him and told him I just had to take his picture because he was so handsome. I'm thinking--pesto with pignolia nuts, the smell of foccacia baking, being served cappucino on Saturday mornings, Puccini playing in the kitchen. Yeah, I'm feeling it. Don't tell me I'm living in a fool's paradise.