Sunday, January 31, 2010

“I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wondering awed about on a splintered wreck I've come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty bats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them...”

Annie Dillard

Thursday, January 28, 2010

"When you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody."

J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

Monday, January 25, 2010


I like that word more and more the older I get.

I like to say to my husband when I get home from my
little holiday that my drive home was "uneventful."

It looked at times today as if it were going to be anything
other than uneventful. Strange weather patterns.

I kept going in and out of the front. First, just light snow
and little wind. 80 miles later, blowing snow and almost
whiteout conditions. 5 miles down the road, west bound,
the sun shining all around and these thin, loner clouds hang there,
not 50 feet from my head. Like I was seeing those low-lying
wispy clouds with 3D glasses on. And all above and around
those clouds were enormous clouds, clouds with names like
nimbostratus and stratocumulus, the sky dark gray and
ominous to the north and east. Wonder what the wispy ones
are called.

20 more miles westbound and I am back in the whiteout
conditions, only this time the wind is so strong it pulls
my car to the far right shoulder of the parkway, almost
to the guardrail, which is the only thing between my car
and a creek about 20 ft below. But I hang on, and within
a mile or two, the sun shines again.

15 more miles and I am in a snowglobe, thinking how lovely!
To the south, a patch of blue, like a giant siamese cat's eye peering
through the clouds. I can hardly keep my eyes on the road
for wanting to see everything. But I do. Keep my eyes on the
road. Keep things uneventful. I do like it that way.
"The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his day."
— Cormac McCarthy (Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West)

Thursday, January 21, 2010

The truth knocks on the door and you say, go away, I'm looking for the truth, and it goes away. Puzzling.

Robert Pirsig

Monday, January 04, 2010

Never is a long, undependable time, and life is too full of rich possibilities to have restrictions placed upon it.

Gloria Swanson

Sunday, January 03, 2010

Saturday, January 02, 2010