6 July 1999
the satisfying zoom

 

 

I've got two unread weeks of the Sunday Times abandoned under my coffee table, but I can't be bothered. I've been away.

There's so much that I promised to write about that my head now feels stuffy and overwhelmed with weekend catch phrases. Let me begin with...

Let's begin with the fact that about 15 minutes ago I nearly jumped out of my chair... every hair standing on end... because without warning my new purple whirlywriter pen spontaneously activated itself and began to thrash and whirl around my writing table, slapping against the Adrienne Rich book that I pulled off the shelf earlier tonight. I knew it was just begging to whirl around an empty, white sheet of paper. And so, like a tiny sprite-like fairy, I granted its wish and post it here for you to admire.

Laine said she couldn't resist the oversized purple pen that said "whirlywriter" on the side... and she snuck to the register and bought it for me before I even had a chance to lay eyes on it. Once we loaded it up with a AAA battery last night, we took turns whirling it around junk mail envelopes and the backs of receipts. I took it to work today and Todd promptly saturated our small cube with that dentist-office drilling sound. He hailed it the cure for my helpless tornado whirlwind drawings. It's like a magic wand.

And that was only the beginning.

This weekend was all about Madame Laine's fortune telling "Q" cards forecasting an "encounter" laced with "love potion number nine" in my next three-months; a loquacious kayak guide pitted against "Shh!" the Harbor Seal, protector of nature's peace and quiet; and Laine's graceful "sparkler" ballet coupled with a facial expression combining utter fear with sheer joy. There was an eerie walk atop Cadillac Mountain in a fog that swallowed the plump, ruddy moon and a quiet car ride filled with dread and paralysis. No stars... but a fireworks finale from across the bay. Hot, sticky, sun-soaked skin... but also a comforting early morning thunderstorm with gusts of wind knocking against the glass.

Mostly, it felt like living. The zoned-out thought and hearty laughter making days zoom like freeway traffic photographed at night. And there's some kind of satisfaction in that.

How was your holiday?

biggest kiss...

...kristen