Thursday, July 07, 2011

Miss I miss

I love the seemingly haphazard abundance of Velma's garden. The blue teapot gave up its handle and now,

the handle is printed onto a silk scarf. It's amazing where I was just a week ago, and now, I'm in the south. In a state that has "south" in its name. How strange. Being here is scary for me, for a million reasons. I am sore from playing tennis yesterday evening, barefoot for half the time. I haven't played in almost twenty years. I still make all the same mistakes I did as a teenager. Funny how those things stay with you, imprinted into your body.

The good tacket is closer to my hand. The other tacket un-plies too easily and is less attractive. So I made notes to myself: sew towards or away from myself? I already forget, which is why I make notes. But then I forget where the notes are since there are so many books in my life. I was writing to Elizabeth and she talked about deep waters, how we cross them. After a beach afternoon, crouching down near the sand so much so that my legs were tired the next day from being crab-legged, I realized I often do that: I twist down into shallow water and get frightened by the big waves crashing over my head, which would just be foam if I stood up. But I trick myself into thinking I'm in deep water, and panic accordingly. Like she said, storms in a glass of water.

1 comment:

  1. haphazard is the word, so cool how the imprinted scarf came out. has it changed again? i put my little tacket book in your folder, and must show you the vellum ones next time.


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