Remember, I love you, I appreciate you,
and I wish you a Fantabulous Week!!!
This morning’s newspaper says the Tries (Tri-Cities) where I live, are surrounded by wild fires. But, there must be a clear space to our SE as the breeze, such as it is, isn’t bringing smoke—so far. The sky has a hazy silvery tint to it, so I can tell it ain’t totally clear, but I just walked the dog, and no smell of fire.
My weather app says our AQI is 46-good, my EPA Air Now app says it’s 22. That’s a bit of a discrepancy, yes‽ And it matters, because there are a lot of people in the area who have sensitivities to things in the air we breathe! Me being one of the many!
And the Tries are located in the Columbia Basin, basin being the operative word. We are a sink hole, and as such, collect and hold stuff like smoke. Five or so years ago, I was getting ready to convert Coffee Break Escapes to a podcast and we were surrounded by fires for over a month. Even wearing a mask, especially outside, the smoke forever changed my voice. Part of it was my fault for trying to talk through the smoke-induced laryngitis, still….
I am considering recording some of my short stories and putting them up on my YouTube channel, including coughs, glitches, &c and “advertising” them as both written and narrated by a human. They won’t be as exciting as the AI stories but the tenses and pronunciations will be somewhat better. /snark/ But, probably not as funny.
New Read:
Last year, I read Frogs Don’t Sing Red poems by Sandi Stromberg and loved it. When I saw she had a new book out a while back, Moonlight, Shaken poems by Sandi Stromberg, my order was placed asap! From the first epigraph, “To what shall / I liken the world? / Moonlight, reflected / In dewdrops, / Shaken from a crane’s bill.” —Dogen Zenji (1200-1253) I was entranced. Both books are published by Kelsay Books.
Stromberg has lived in different countries, has travelled widely, partaken of cultures, languages, and foods from around the world. Her love of travel, and new friends and acquaintances, is shared in this marvelous book. Do I have a favorite? Oh, gosh, no. I have several. The one that affected me, physically, more than others (all affected me emotionally) was Sixty Seconds of Infinity. “”It’s just for one minute,” says the museum guard, // Out of the dark, hundreds, maybe thousands, ‘’ of golden lights careen toward me, tiny lanterns / ceiling to floor….” She goes on to describe a most fascinating sixty seconds. I close my eyes, try to visualize what she saw, what she felt, and the early twinges of vertigo began. That’s powerful writing. And now, claustrophobe that I am, I want to visit the Infinity Room, by Yayoi Kusama at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. All because of one poem!
Early morning sun (7:47), September 17, 2021, during our month of smoke. It never got better until it was gone.
‘Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?’ –Frida Kahlo