This morning I walked over to one of my favorite coffee shops, just over a mile from my apartment. One of the baristas--who I hadn't seen since I got back from my travels--gave me a latte. Pretty pattern of brown & white on top. Almost too pretty to drink. Almost.
Brought out the cuter littler watercolor set & spent some time painting. My favorite, which I later gave to my friend Carol at the Haen Gallery, had a blue rectangle in the corner. Beside it I wrote: "This is the box in which we keep the sky," he told her. She laughed & laughed. "You can't keep the sky in a box," she said. "You can't keep anything in a box." (The last 3 words trail off all crooked, along with ribbons of twisty blue, the sky escaping from its neat box.) I let Greg the barista choose a painting, in appreciation for the latte. He picked one that said, You are held in the heart of the angel of the sky. Christopher at the Haen Gallery picked He dreamed he grew wings & could fly. The universe said, "Well, duh." One last one given away today, to Amy, whose job is changing & friends are dying & who is living with her husband & 2 cats in one room of their house because the remodeling is 8 weeks overdue: When she realized what a small portion of the infinite this current girl part was, it really took the pressure off.
After my painting & writing & bill-paying & post-officing & banking, I came home & meditated & took a little nap. Then I went to the co-op & bought 6 mushrooms & 1 zucchini & 4 boneless, skinless chicken thighs & some eurasian fusion marinade. That & some rice I had here already made me at least 3 meals worth of delicious. Plus I was cooking! I hadn't really gotten into the swing of cooking lots in the apartment much, between unpacking & traveling & just settling in, so it felt really good to be cooking with actual ingredients.
The other night I walked over to a park on Charlotte Street to "Shindig on the Green" where I saw square dancing & heard lots of fiddling & guitar & banjo picking & bass playing. It reminded me of hanging out with my oh-so-musical family. Came home & cut the finger nails on my left hand & tuned up my guitar. Whipped out a few favorite chords just for fun. Tonight I even got out a songbook & played & sang a little. (Things like "Gentle on my mind," an old Glen Campbell favorite.) The folks at Shindig on the Green don't have to worry about the competition, but then I don't think they would. It was a "come on & jam" sort of event, with tents for musicians to sit in even if they weren't on the stage. Did hear Grammy-winner Bobby Hicks--yee haw.
Maybe one of these days I'll take my guitar to a street corner & play a couple songs just for fun. Maybe someone will toss a quarter into my case. It'll be a while though...
I cleverly opened the create-a-post window while still at the coffee shop, so I could write it at home at my leisure. I'm lounging here on my green damask fainting couch (or chaise lounge, if you prefer, but I am never quite sure exactly how Frenchly to pronounce that, so I say "fainting couch" instead) typing these last few words. Then it's off to the wi-fi place to post them. Later, gators.
Blog alternative:
68. Chalk art. On a sidewalk somewhere.
