"Could it be, yes, it could, something's coming, something good," a line from an all-time favorite of mine, the musical Candide. [That's the 2005 version; mine was the original, 1956.] Oh it is tempting to get diverted here. But that will not excuse my drift from blogging.
Call it old age, maybe a critique of the fragility of the format, or simply Naomi malingering. Whatever, I have not let go entirely and believe it is in my own best interest to go at it again.
Certainly there have been inspirational moments-- that I
did not pick up on quickly. Visually the most powerful-- these startling tattoos on the woman helping me at the eyeglass place, Natalie. She reached forward, sleeve went back and there...
We shared our fondness for the power of the hen, her rightness as a symbol for women. Reaches across all races, ethnic groups; why did I not think of this in the dawn of the second wave (somewhat random link)?
And that was but one of her gorgeous tattoos. There were others. Told Natalie that these would go on my blog; finally matching promise to action. Definitely began to think more seriously of getting one myself. Oh, a modest image, on the ankle, perhaps.
Told Zoe, our 10 year old granddaughter, "Oh, grandma! Not really." Thought I'd get more support there.
So what have I been doing? Baking sourdough bread, one kind after another. Giving slices away to neighbors in my retirement community. I'll write more about the thrill, yes, of bread making. Went to a great class at Tabor Bread, local bakery; offered to teach making a sourdough starter at Portland's oldest food cooperative, People's Co-op. My bread's in the photo.
And discovered C.A.N., the Coalition Against Nukes, on Facebook, because politics always close at hand. More later.