Our grandson Cameron is freshly returned from Peru and day after tomorrow he begins the tenth grade. Exciting. Till the end of the year, he’ll be taking Algebra 2/Trigonometry, AP Physics, and French 3. Batten down the hatches! it’s going to be an interesting ride.
Otherwise hereabouts, I’m in the midst of my Beginner’s Bonsai Class…this week studying the physiology of trees—so that when I snip off a twig or apply constricting wire, I’ll know what effect it’ll have on the whole plant. And studying form in bonsai…classic shapes. It’s all very beautiful and daunting—the art of bonsai is hundreds of years old–and brings me closer to my mother who excelled in the art.
Recently we had to get a new wi-fi modem for the household and it came with the bonus of an Apple watch. The watch’s bells and whistles were explained, and I decided to wear it. It does one particularly good thing: buzzes me sitting at my desk when it wants me to stand up for one minute. Otherwise its technology is over my head, but I will master it one of these days.
Bill is writing. Marvelously. And in wonderful form. I must say our three-times-a-week sessions at CrossFit have given us so much flexibility and strength…go thou and do likewise!
My work of fiction inches along…I’m happy with it…
Was shocked and saddened by news of the death of a childhood friend. Jill Schary Robinson was a successful novelist/memoirist…but her success came at a price. She wrote about pain. Hers. Jill left this planet two weeks ago, and it was a shock because maybe a year or so ago we got in touch and agreed to see one another again… We last were together when Jill was thirteen, I was fourteen, and I was her weekend guest in a house in Running Springs. Her father, Dore Schary, was Head of Production at MGM, and other guests were Cary Grant with Betsy Drake (I actually sat on the same piano bench next to Mr. Grant and played a duet, “Blue Moon,” as I recall), and Walter Huston came over from next door to dinner …Jill gave me those memories.
And meantime, granddaughters are forging ahead, staking their claims, being purposeful, courageous, heroic. Grandsons, too, a’course, but I seem to be more in touch with the ladies. It’s amazing to me my grandchildren are pushing thirty.
The vegetable garden is lovely but puny. Two luscious heritage tomato plants—abundant green leaves but no tomatoes. The eggplant leaves keep looking soft and purply but produce nothing. It’s been too cool a summer. I know…if you’re reading this where it’s been beastly hot, that can annoy you. Apologies.
Am over the moon about the Democrats. I’m most especially happy about Kamala Harris’s judgment—that for her running mate she didn’t go with the pol’ who could deliver a state or a constituency but the person who shared her values, was also a People Person. Our remarkable friend Deborah put it perfectly: “I don’t think the Democrats could have done better if God had given them the option to create their ideal candidate.”
And I cherish Van Jones bon mot: “…when Trump coughed up a fur ball—J.D. Vance.”
Big hugs. Thanks for listening.
4 Comments. Leave new
fur ball – very funny! that was news to me.
It’s a good one…so is he, yes?!
Right on!
Thank you, dearest Linda!