Weekend with Harry

I spent the weekend. With Harry Potter. Not to worry. I'm not giving up any secrets. I didn't expect to be reading. I've been number 891 on the library's hold list for quite some time. But then. I went into the library on Saturday morning to pick up some other books on hold. And there were 4 copies on a cart near the front door. I pick one up and asked, "Are these actually check-outable?" They held a few copies for local library users. But I guess since no one knew, there were still a few left at 9:30. I am reading by a stroke of magic. Of a copy not captured in the bookstore at midnight. I am on page 498 of 759 pages. And even when I have a secret to share. I won't.

When I Started to Blog

When I started to blog. I made a promise. To myself. I decided that I would never feel like I had to write. But rather. If something welled up from inside. Or caught my attention. And I found myself composing in my head. Then. And only then. I would write. I've hit what I would call a dry spell. But really it's a distracted spell. Where I am just being. Gathering my resources. For when I travel again. In the meantime. I knit. I sleep. And I read.

I am nearly done with Daughter of the Ganges by Asha Miro. Early on, she mentions going to a women's cooperative in Mumbai, where, if it weren't for handwork they did for the fair trade market, they would have nothing. That's why I travel. As part of an organization that sustains those women, and the basket makers in Rwanda, and the tea growers in Darjeeling.

Seasonal Blogger

When the days are long. And summer is here. I am. A seasonal blogger.

I spend my time. In the dog park. In the yard. Looking at the tomato plants. Which have grown chin high. And are covered with clusters. Three. Four. A dozen. Of tomatoes. All green. Every day. I check. For the first tinge of pink. But every day. There are more. Green tomatoes.

The marido. Is in Oaxaca. On a human rights delegation. And then Chiapas. To the "Intergalactic Meeting Between the Zapatistas and the World.” The Zapatistas. And the world.

I plan. A fall trip. To India. Tea plantations in Darjeeling. Calcutta. Chennai. With a stop in Kathmandu. A city I love. Before my return.

In the meantime. I sit at my desk. And go to the dog park. And watch the tomatoes grow.

I am a seasonal blogger.

Street Names

Today I was driving. And came into a neighborhood. With beautiful street names. Like Jade. And Crystal. And Agate. Wouldn't it be lovely to live on a street named Moonstone? A lot of newer streets bear the names of the developer's family. Heather Circle. Jennifer Lane. And then there are the servicable names. Numbers. And letters. And then there are truly awful names. Like Grim. Our house in Missouri. Is in a neighborhood. Of Grim Drive. And Grim Street. Might as well be named Dreadful Drive.

I wasn't planning to watch any of Live Earth. But then Keith Urban and Alicia Keyes kicked it. And I. Couldn't turn it off. John Mayer. Is logging on some miles. Four days ago he was in Milwaukee. Now he's doing LE in the UK.

The book. I haven't read it. But I like the cover. And I will.

My 4th of July Manifesto

Today I will not celebrate my country. I will weep for it.

We look at countries in Africa or Latin America and declare them corrupt. Why, we ask, can they not keep their governments in order? And now countries around the world look at us. And declare our government corrupt. Why can we not keep our government in order?

How have we reached new levels of lying and cronyism? Ridiculous heights of unchecked power? Unaccountability? Money driving legislation and elections? Recklessness?

I walked around the Wisconsin State Capitol yesterday, over the body outlines chalked on the sidewalk. With names and dates. Of people from my state who died in Iraq. Dead.

I’m not going to miss the fireworks. I’ve hated them ever since I was a little girl. They’ve scared the shit out of me. Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do though? Simulate bombs?

Today I will not celebrate my country. I will weep for it. It has gone too far. And gone on too long. And I am saturated with rage.

Lightning Bonus Weekend at the Goodwill

I expect. That either you’ll get this post. And say, “Wow!” Or you won’t get it at all. It probably depends. On your relationship with thrift stores.

The marido’s parents took him and his siblings to a thrift store to buy clothes when he was a child. He, consequently, doesn’t like ‘em and does not understand their glory. My parents took me to Marshall Fields as a child, but we then walked to J.C. Penney to find something comparable to what they had in Fields. I guess that’s neither here nor there. That said, I love thrift stores.

There are 3 Goodwill stores in my city. Because I seemed to be on a roll, I went to all of ‘em. And came home with bags with the following delights. I’ve numbered my top 3 favorites.

A small image of an Indian women (in the photo) made from crushed semi-precious gemstones (amethyst, agate, jasper, sodalite, etc.). This is my number 1. It is so cool.

2 pair pastel jammies, 1 for summer, 1 for winter

2 small botanical water color vignettes by Cross Plains, WI, artist Beth Ann Hamilton

A large Indian block printed table cloth

A small heart-shaped Bennington Pottery dish, cobalt blue sponge painted. My number 2.

An orange to gold pressed glass grape-motif footed dish

Small porcelain doll parts, 4 arms and 1 head, for my art stash

An all-purpose Coldwater Creek black dress. My number 3.

A stone apple. I don’t think it’s onyx because it’s bright yellow, but I’m not sure what it is. Probably made in Pakistan.

A like-new yoga mat in its mesh bag.

Brown onyx tea light holder.

One of those crank-the-handle mixers

A medium-sized frame make of twigs

A small blue and white lidded talavera tile box that says, “Hand painted Puebla, Mexico” on the bottom.

A couple of sweaters, one Liz Claiborne

An Italian hand painted small decorative plate with a bird in the center.

An oval birch bark basket

3 tops

A medium-sized glass pan. We've switched over to nearly all glass and cast iron, because of heebie-jeebie worries with metal pans.

A pair of recycled Mexican glasses, stemmed, green tint with blue rims

Various beads, caboobles, and doodads

All told, it was a very good weekend at the Goodwills.