No, Thursday's Out....

When my daughter was little, we’d sometimes leaf through clothing catalogs together, comparing style opinions: Yes, No, NEVER. One time, we finished a catalog, something like Forever 21, and I said, “Wow, I didn’t like one single thing.” She gave me The Look and said, “Mom, it’s not FOR you.” This still slays me. I’ve been not-the-target audience at two events recently: the Radical Faerie Arts Fest, and the 11 pm showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Clinton Street Theater. I went to the RadFaF opening because a friend had his paintings there, and because the timing was so easy. I had to be downtown anyway, an hour later, for a dinner meeting, dress code: Business Casual. So I had on a dress, and my white jacket, and my pearls – I looked the very opposite of Radical or Faerie-like, not that I generally look all that close. There were two greeters on the door, both bedecked in tie-dye and jewels and feathers, and they weren’t sure about me, for which I don’t blame them...

A desire to clean out the fridge seized me. That happens VERY rarely. You know that oft-quoted Mary Oliver line, from Poem 133: The Summer Day: Tell me, what is it you plan to do /  with your one wild and precious life? I have never gotten a life plan together, but I know for certain that I do not want to spend it cleaning out the fridge. Or cleaning much of anything. Still, once in a while, the urge hits, and this was the urge for a serious cleanout: every jar and bottle had to be opened, eyeballed, sniffed, and tossed if found wanting. This could devolve into a horror story, I know, but we are avoiding that and going for a MYSTERY instead. The mystery involved two jars of yeast in the lowest and least-used fridge door pocket, one marked in Sharpie as BOB’S. I know a few Bobs, but none likely to bring their private yeast stash over to my house and put it in my fridge. I snapped a photo and sent it to Rick, who was out of town. He said: No clue. If you examine it closel...

I never belonged to a book club or wanted to, until - during the pandemic - I got super lonely, and joined two, one online. The offline one has a delightful new member, and when we started this month's book discussion, she spoke up first, saying “I LIKED it!” This novel (like many) moves back and forth in time, with multiple story lines. Other people in the group said they liked THIS bit but not THAT bit, or THIS character was so thin as to be just a resumé , or this resolution was too pat … and when we got back around, our new member agreed completely and said, “Well, I skipped the parts I didn’t like.” Soul mate! I did this a few years ago with a thick bestseller that alternated Tragic War Story and Poignant Love Story. After a few chapters, I read one, skipped the other. Powered through, found out what happened, got a taste, I dunno.   If I really dislike something with a compelling central mystery, I’ll read just the last chapter, before I return it to the library. Freedom!...

Went to Wildcraft (first time), took a class in basket-making and made a tiny basket (first basket ever)! The teacher kept reassuring us that our baskets were imperfect just like a “first pancake” is imperfect.  I liked that. Showed my basket to my neighbor, thinking he would be impressed, but no – he earned a merit badge in basket-weaving, back in his Boy Scout youth. I think he is the first guy I’ve met who earned a merit badge in basket-weaving. Feel free to correct me if you too are a guy with said badge! Met a baby in the park named Alfonso. I think he is my first Alfonso, but again, do set me straight if I’m wrong. Got my first strawberry of the year from our garden. Most of it. The slugs got the other side. We specialize in rare, shade-grown strawberries, which do not drain the soil because each plant puts out maybe three berries, tops.  I'm kidding. We have feeble strawberry plants. But our local greengrocer has the first Hood strawberries of the season, and I at...