July 18th, 2008

fish jumping

Evening -



A trip on the ferry is a lovely journey.  I feel I've been gone for days.  I met a friend in the city, and she says she goes to the ferry building to work.  She feels the energy is so buoyant she can get done in one hour what would take four at home.  Her book has a publisher and will be out in 2009.  She is thrilled, obviously.

I slipped into Book Passage and found Goodnight Bush.  It looks exactly like Goodnight Moon,  but has a different slant.  It is an "unauthorized parody."

It begins, "In the situation room, There was a toy world, And a flight costume, And a picture of - A refinery plume, And there were war profiteers giving three cheers," and it goes on like that.   I recommend it.

The ferry was delayed coming home because they were filming actors and actresses walking on to the ferry.  We didn't count.  This happened to me once before.  I had ridden over on my bicycle and was taking the ferry back.   They were filming Streets of San Francisco, and wanted it to look cold when, in reality, it was a warm October day, so we were tucked away while they filmed.  It feels really odd, to be shunted aside for a movie, and people got pretty heated as we waited.   At each take, people clapped to let them know we thought it was good enough.  It is always interesting to see what filmmakers think people in SF look like.  I hope it was low budget as the acting seemed pretty stilted and unimpressive.

I am hosting a quarterly gathering of women, so will be cooking away tonight and early tomorrow morning.  Tis good!!  I made the stock for the soup last night.   Yum!





sleepy sea otter

Our daily tasks - our daily bread -




Daily
 
These shriveled seeds we plant,
corn kernel, dried bean,
poke into loosened soil,
cover over with measured fingertips
 
These T-shirts we fold into
perfect white squares
 
These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips
This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl
 
This bed whose covers I straighten
smoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanket
and nothing hangs out
 
This envelope I address
so the name balances like a cloud
in the center of sky
 
This page I type and retype
This table I dust till the scarred wood shines
This bundle of clothes I wash and hang and wash again
like flags we share, a country so close
no one needs to name it
 
The days are nouns:  touch them
The hands are churches that worship the world
 

 ~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~
 
 
 
(The Words Under the Words)