did you say Iceland?

A woman at work honeymooned recently in Iceland, so there was a lot
of discussion of that country and this book was recommended to me.
It was written in 1946, and won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1955.
I think I tried to read it once before and couldn't, but this time Independent 
People is resonating with me. Now I wonder if my friend Anna at Dutch
Hill Farm has read it? It's the story of a determined sheep farmer who
lives a harsh life and values freedom more than anything.

I found a brand new copy for $5.98 in a used book store. It's not the
kind of novel that one would want to e-read, that much I know for sure.

Livewires beat Kitties!

RR plays second

Livewires and coaches after the game

RR's Game Face ~ not Moody

RR's very first at bat

Sweet statue at snack bar

I had a fun time in Pumpkinville yesterday and the Livewires won (5 to 2)
and RR was stellar as a batter. There wasn't much action for her at 2nd base,
but she is learning the basics and I was impressed with the coaches and
how much time and care they give to the little players. Of course they
stress teamwork and of course I wanted them to WIN, because I am a
baseball fan. The Giants also won yesterday in another v. close game.
And yes, the coastal fog finally burned off, but it is June, and that's just
how it is here with our natural air conditioning, as people say way too often.

remembering what's important

Today is RR's debut as a Livewire and I will be driving down to Pumpkinville
to cheer and whoop and get some photos for commano. I look forward to
seeing Mr. and Mrs. Blogmaid and also RR's older purple sister and teacher,
Claire. Husbando will clean house as he does every Saturday. Don't they all?

Speaking of which, our Giants (the other team) are chugging along, mostly
winning by one run. The blue scumsucking Dodgers have lost five (5)
in a row and we are now only 4 out of first place. Catch the games today,
they are all wearing scratchy 1912 uniforms ~ our game is at 4:15, so
I'll be home to a clean house with a camera-full of treasures.

This sure beats working.

falling for The Fonz

Anonymous kitten

Griffin

More new kittens

Alicia ~ 3 months old

Fonzarelli

It had been 10 days since my last SPCA visit and there were a lot of
adoptions to make me smile. Even my favorite Tahoe-the-Restless has
a new home. I used to visit her first. Here are the adoptees ~ celebrate:

• Rudy
• Windixie
• Godiva
• Inky
• Pizazz
• Gracie
• Lil Bear
• Phoebe and Claire (Siamese Twins)
• Tahoe (sniff)
• Tons of kittens

Fonzarelli is my new favorite and I think that means his imminent 
adoption. He's 8 years old and chatters without surcease, in a quiet,
intelligent way, of course. It was a fine morning, why weren't all my
jobs this rewarding?

HBO does it again

Nicole Kidman and Clive Owens

We both were impressed with Hemingway and Gelhorn, especially all the
history and how they traveled to Spain, Finland, China, Cuba, Poland,
etc., to chase adventure as war time correspondents. Fascinating stuff. We
guessed that Hem was pretty much an alkie misogynist, but still it's not
easy to watch him self-distruct. Martha Gelhorn was his 3rd (of 4 total)
wife and she is an inspiration to all career minded women. The Flix® will
have it soon, I hope, for you non-HBO people.

flammable indeed

A Behanding in Spokane is playing until June 30th, and even though it's
a bit grisly, it's great fun ~  90 minutes of thrills and tension. Usually
I'm the one to yelp in movies and plays, but last night even Husbando
did the "oh no!" kind of screech. Rod Gnapp is one of our favorite
actors and the playwright Martin McDonagh gave us the wonderful
film In Bruges, so we knew we were in for a treat. We both recommend
this play, you won't be disappointed!

the lost souls

(sometimes I wonder what happened to all the big city crazies who used to

come to Borders to sit for a few hours ~ Buttercup, The Captain and

Tenille, Road Warrior, Perfume Lady, Neck Brace Woman, the Guy With

Carefully Tied String Around His Belongings ~ those who screamed and

cursed and those who never spoke a word. So sad, yet so difficult to

have to deal with on a daily basis.)

 

All Dharmas Are Marked with Emptiness

I'm talking now about the destitute and the wild-eyed, I'm
talking about the lady who made the head of the Virgin Mary
out of cut up pieces of magazines and broken glass and a
can of carpenter's glue—and then there's the girl I know
who works in the supermarket, who printed an entire anthology
of poems on a single eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of
Xerox paper and folded a hundred copies down to wallet size
and passed them out to anyone who dared look her in the eye.
You know what I mean: there are all those lonely, desperate,
weird minds—yours among them for all I know—and the
Dharma is everywhere, books and words and people thinking,
beat-up notebooks from the dollar store, scribbling the world
into them—a man has a mystery, a woman has an adventure,
the kids are banging rhymes together like tin cans full of
old nails. Where's it all going, this clatter, this wonder,
this rant against anguish? I tell myself to stay calm. I tell
myself to step back and take a breath. I twist and shift in my
tall black chair. I can hear the city coming in through the kitchen's
window-screens. Night birds, crickets in the unseasonable heat,
some might say dead souls keening in their rivers of fire or
choirs of angels out in the eucalyptus trees, but beyond it all you
hear nothing but the deep nothing—or maybe that's the far-off roar
of a motorcycle: If the night is just right, if the moment is perfect,
you know as well as I do that you don't need to tell the difference.
Frank X. Gaspar

Late Rapturous
Autumn House Press