having way too much fun
tracing my own hand
I do it again...
I noticed a typo in my blog alternative yesterday & it was too juicy & delicious to change. Electramagnetic spectrum. (That means you might kinda sorta have an electra complex, but whoever it is you're attracted to, be it father or father figure, it's pretty magnetic.)
Our 6 to 8 inches of snow yesterday pretty much melted into the ground as it fell. That means our girls' poker night is still on. Years ago I had my heart set on a 54 inch round pedestal table, reasoning--correctly--that 54 inches is the absolute best size for cards. With a 60 inch it's hard to reach the middle to rake in cards, if you take a trick in pinochle, or a pot, if you win one in poker. With a 48 inch, you can't seat enough peeps. Pedestal because then no one is bumping knees on table legs. Then, voila, cold frozy day in Minneapolis & my poetry buds & I were early to something & walking around a block & the only thing open was an antique/consignment store. 54 inch round pedestal table just waiting for me. & now Tiffany, daughter-in-law-to-be, likes to play hold 'em & doesn't get an opportunity to do so very often, so my poker buddies & her poker buddy are coming over. Zach will hang out in the garage...
Another event for today is a trip to the Crossings Gallery in Zumbrota to see the poet/artist collaboration show, always one of my favorites.
201. Venture into an art gallery. Write a poem about one of the paintings.