|field of buttercups near Lincolnville|
Well, First of all, let's hear it for the Egyptians! Cheers, Ya'll! It sort of makes sense that one of the most ancient of civilizations might get the whole democracy thing right before anyone else on the planet does. You know, of the people, by the people, FOR the people, etc. Thirty MILLION people in the street with the collective thought that the group of hooyahs attempting to govern them are, well, hooyahs, and they want them GONE. BTW, the largest gathering of human beings in history, I'm told. And I hope they hang on to El Baradei, cause he was one of the few brave enough to publicly, and, admirably, in a very gentlemanly manner, buck Bush's lies and state emphatically there were NO weapons of mass discussion in Iraq WAY before we went in there and hammered them for no sane reason on earth.
|miles of buttercups|
So, GOOD for the Ballsy Egyptians. (Unlike, as many posts on the news sites have noted, the lazy Americans, who "tweet their complaints and then go back to me-me-meing." Begging the question: when are Americans gonna grow a pair and stop complaining about Congress and take to the streets with fekkin pitchforks?
Answer: As long as the cable's still working, not anytime soon.
SO! a BIG HOO- RAY! for that Texas Dynamo, that intrepid Wendy Davis, for standing up to the hideous Texas tyrants in that legislature who insist they have a right to tell us gals what we can and cannot do with our own uteri. (You like that little Latin thing there? Plural and all? Oh never mind.) I needed a new pair of sneaks and went onto Zappos.com and PROMPTLY ordered a pair of those very same sneaks (Mizuno Wave Rider 16) she stood up in to filibuster those assholes for, what? HOURS ON END! .....
Wendy for President.
Ju-ly. Stretch that word out when you say it, accent on the first syllable. Mid-summer and hot as Hades pretty much everywhere on the East Coast. Even the place we here in the midcoast fondly refer to as "the island" is too hot to bear without a fan blowing on you as you try to sleep through GLOBAL WARMING.
Whatever. It's here and it's queer.
We've made it through Wimbledon. US Open can't come soon enough. It was interesting without Serena and Rafa, got to see more of the field stepping up. Sorry to see Joko lose it in the final, tho I'm a Federer fan, but maybe now the Brits will have their Champion and get over it. (No offense to darling Brit pals.) Admittedly, Murray worked hard and earned it. I was hoping for Del Potro in the final, (something about his Eeyoresque, hangdog demeanor I just luv) but you can't always get what you want, as the Stones (Ron Wood among them, watching the final and looking rather ghostly in his, I presume, died black hair and zombiesque pallor) are wont to remind us.
|I celebrate without you (:(... not really. tee|
Speaking of not always getting what you want: I wish I could be in Carolina this week to celebrate the birthday of my AWESOMELY FABULOUS SISTER, who is, perhaps, the most gorgeous gal on earth, with a dynamite sense of humor, lilting voice, and delightful personality to match. (Yes, nothing like me, I admit.) HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TEE, AND MANY HAPPY RERUNS!!! May your troubles be small this year and your joys boundless. muah! muah! muah! *Something arriving in the MAIL so keep an eye out. *
|barnes exterior, very asian and cool. (My daughter tells me i'm not allowed to say "oriental" anymore. hmph.|
June was The Month of The Amazing Buttercup Proliferation here in Maine. Just vast fields of the things, waving in the breeze and defiantly refusing to succumb to the world's onslaught of bad news. Some hope there in Egypt tho, AND Turkey, and I do like Christine LaGarde's chastising the US for its austerity measures. She may turn out to be an asset for the have-nots in the long run. Who knew? She's always so tan and doesn't die her gorgeous white hair. sigh.
I headed south in mid-June to Philly, a visit to the Barnes Museum collection (I wept confronted with Matisse at such close range and in such VOLUME) and my awesome son of musical giftedness. My heart sighs with missing him. Reading Terminal Market was soooo Jersey/Philly, felt like home, and Chinatown provided me with the best straw hat I've found in a few years and a teeny, weeny painted paper umbrella for a friend's female and soon-to-arrive bun-in-oven. A copy of Eloise must accompany such a gift, don't you think? Then on to a wedding in North Jersey, a cousin I love, and seeing cousins I miss and adore. You walk into a room and past and present collide as you see your own face in nearly everyone there. And plenty of Humor and wit from fellow descendants of the British Isles and Ireland. (Those stuffy Scottish Presbyterians came from the other side of the family, but that didn't seem to stop them from causing a lot of embarrassing trouble. Which they like to deny.) Heart cockles warmed indeed.
|entrance to Chinatown|
|barnes entrance, note tranquil pools of h20.|
I have a summer gig "Driving Miss Daisy", une femme charmante, providing thoughtful grist for the writer's mill and delightful hours spent with a lovely individual. Chez moi, I've made what barely passes for a petit jardin, mostly in pots and boxes; it's....well, enough. .. I guess.. Evenings are taken up, lazily, with a couple episodes of MI-5, going through the whole series on Netflix. It never gets old, and is smart and fun watching if you haven't seen it in a few years.
|if it quacks like a duck?|
Books: I'm reading like someone on death row in a reading contest with a pardon the prize, seeking kindred spirits on the page, exemplars of inspired writing. So far: (as I can recall) I've plowed through
Clay by Melissa Harrison unbelievably amazing writing by a seriously gifted British gal, a story that will stay with you. DO treat yourself to this one. (She has a garden blog (click here) as well, but don't let that fool you. She's serious business.
Lit: the third in a trilogy of memoirs by Mary Karr, writer of The Liars Club, a wonderful poet and writer. (This is turning out to be Memoir Summer for me, reading-wise.) Thanks to Sukeee for putting me onto her.
Must recommend THE FUNNIEST BOOK in the WORLD! Oh PLEASE read this if you can get your hands on it. Jenny Lawson's Let's Pretend This Never Happened. OMG, tears running down my face. Reading this in public places VERY disturbing as everyone stops to ask what I'm reading after pausing to regard me skeptically first (thinking: is it safe to talk to this nutcase?) I am talking Riotously funny book by the woman known online as The Bloggess. I owe my librarian a drink for that one. Maybe two.
Do NOT bother reading the memoir "A Girl's Guide to Homelessness." I think it's actually Young Adult fiction I picked up by mistake. A case of serious misfiling at the library. Was looking forward to homeless peoples' stories. NOT. Just a long drawn out lesson in how not to pick the right guy. Seriously? I think that's a story we ALL could write on quaaludes in a hot tub without much effort.
And The Glass Castle by, um... oh i forget. A really wonderful memoir of a truly bizarre childhood. Talk about making lemons out of lemonade. As crazy and nearly abusive as her household is you somehow manage to end up envying her.. and counting your blessings. I'm now reading another of hers, something about Horses in the title.
Am considering reading George Orwell's new one. well I KNOW he's dead, but they just published, i forget, either his autobiography or his letters. Either way, 'sposed to be good, so that's on my list.
Reading in the sultry heat, a fan, and a cool drink. Precious off-duty languor. Nothing better, is there?
So HAPPY, HAPPY, TEE!!
and lots of love love love love love out there to anyone who's bothered to stop by here.
PS --- and the next person who addresses me as "you guys" is getting slammed with a pair of tits.
|my fave camden garden, it's a total mess!|
|long view with buttercups|