Day 61: biplanes?

...I hope so. We'll see (next week) if I'm $60 shorter and a mile or so higher with some nice aerial shots thrown in just to prove that while propellers and open cock pits are out of style, technology makes all things possible.

In the meantime, what have I done?



(Prologue) Last night I went to the beach and wandered the scummy tide, taking pictures and relaxing beyond all reason. I love being this close to the ocean. Nothing calms me so well as being in the water even when my toes are freezing off and the wind is scooping my eyeballs out of my face and my hair looks like something is attacking my brain. But it's quiet. Or rather, there is no noise except the surge and surf of the water. And no cars and few people. Beautiful. I'm holding back from going again tonight. Maybe Friday...definitely Friday...and also Saturday. The weather has been baby-perfect (make of that what you will).



ONE: I was in a friend's wedding which resulted in the resurrection of "Reformation! The musical" brought to you courtesy of the United Methodist Hymnal, an empty chapel and two bridesmaids who were finished with hair and makeup and had nothing better to do than play on the piano, run races through the pews, and then hobble around on some forgotten crutches and a walker in a former police crime scene.

TWO: Tried, unsuccessfully, to chase a deer out of my yard.

THREE: Was asked out to dinner by some reckless youth who dashed from a coffee shop and down three blocks to stop me in front of the U.S. Bank where I almost stabbed him with my keys.

FOUR: Bought six books for $3 at a thrift store that supports women. How, I'm not exactly sure. But apparently years of reading frivolous novels and gaudy poetry have prepared me for reading "On Liberty" by John Stuart Mills, the ultimate homeschooler! (And then he had an emotional breakdown and was no fun in society...we can leave that part out). Also: another translation of "The Odyssey", "The Twelve Caesars" (mostly gossip and slander and shameless hero worship. Hooray!), something by Saul Bellow because it is expected of one, a Norton Anthology of essays (one essay written during and following the drug explosion across the U.S. suggests that people use drugs to escape their own destructive rage, their own desire to kill and hurt and maim and harm, which I found interesting having not read very much in way of drug literature).

FIVE: I received a "Bravissimo" from the publisher (who speaks praises in Italian, I have discovered. This is my first personal encounter with it. "Bravo" is the first level of praise; "Bravissimo" is the top floor. My blushes) for my work on the MUCH SLAVED OVER CLASS OF '69 REUNION (which you should read, if because I was able to worm in a reference to Jimi Hendrix's teeth). <---- that is the main story. I also wrote two longer profiles:

1. Ann Syrett - My hero (she has Christiane Amanpour's HOME PHONE NUMBER!!!!!!) and possible future contact for advice regarding Cairo.

2. Debbie Abel - Who was completely crazy and charming.

And then (yes, it's not over yet) I put together a series of smaller profiles. I wrote all of them except: Sandy Classen Makela, Debby Chan Robertson, and Steve Kotaniemi. Sue Cody wrote those. Man. This project.

I am looking down the gun barrel of 14 days (7 + 7 and days), and Tiffany's wedding, and the impending move back to Eugene, and an Expedition with Liz, and mostly turning into a human who has graduated from college and can write to her heart's content and who is alive most days and who will have at least five days in Portland to play piano, sleep non-stop, and watch cartoons with her brothers. Oh smile, my Polish heart.

Goodnight.