The Meat of Domestic Bovine

Cher Touties,
Today I offer you wisdom in dealing with bureaucracy.
First let me say that I have trouble spelling the word, and so have devised a clever way of remembering it in future: Cold (Bur) Water en Francais (Eau) Cracy (Grecian loan word).
Seems kind of silly, but what of it if it makes me remember.
Last anecdote, swear;
I google imaged 'bureaucracy'
the reoccurring theme in my findings, you might wonder?
Grey walls and angry faces.

Today the walls around me are grey, my face angry.
I don't really think one should be allowed the world wide web to broadcast individual boeufs, but make just one exception for me please, on this day.

When the lowly chalk suckers of federal/provincial government hammer down their rendition of law, please make sure you deal swiftly, less you wish to face the
WRATH OF IMPLICATIONS.

What kind of wrathful implications can one expect?
You name it, really.
The speed at which will startle you;
Bad to absolute worst in a season.

So how does the average Plain Jane deal with such *implications?
She sits on hold, on hold, on hold.

But wait!
Be it hell and high water, stay on and read between
THE LINES.

I refuse to give over my hard earned money so that they can build new offices and employ miserable people in air conditioning.

Appeal
Appeal
Appeal with Grace.

Appeal in a white Chanel pant suit from middle 1980's.
Appeal with the bombastic tenor of Pavorotti.
Finally, appeal so that your own migraine due-to-stress resides,
so that the thoughtless mucker at the kiosk weeps a gentle tear of defeat.

Stay below the radar, touties.

In Hiding,

JP

Noisy Grass

A perfect Sunday sounds like noisy grass and Celia Bartoli doing
Sposa by Vivaldi.

I want noisy grass.

It sounds like this: Tssssssssss Tsssssss Tssssss

In the morning when Perri and I walk by the tall ornamental noisy grass, I stop and listen.
I love the noisy grass so much that I wish I had it recorded for car trips and work days.


Tsssssssss Tsssss Tssssss
It sounds so lovely that it makes the Toddy Over dissipate quietly.
It makes it suddenly ok that there are dust bunnies on the floor, sand in the bed
and nothing left in the house.

Except!
Celia Bartoli.

She will be waiting, arms sprawled, on the new couch when I get home from my very long day.
She will not speak, but sing to me and shake blades of noisy grass as I ready for my sandy chamber.

Yes
Yes

I will rest well tonight.

Some Favourites

Rendering spaces and design concepts.

It all looks good and sounds good when my brain transmits data to King H's,

or it is the wine and carpacio.

Above you will notice a wider range of photographic items.

These are my favourite captured images of late.

Number one complies with my fascination of odd light.

V. Twin Peaks

Number two, my Canoli ku.

A Sunday night tribute to eating Italian and honouring happy times.

Number three, dancing mans!

They live in my front window sill and made me smile this morning.

Jerry Lee Lewis: Killer Tunes

This is a good night.
The neighbours listen to Jerry Lee Lewis.
The new girl next door sits on the front porch and stares.
It's dusky.

Friends don't let friends drive - drunk.
So the neighbour asks if so and so is okay, and she IS.
She has her mom's car, and discusses her weekend plans to see Crosby Stills in concert.
I want to go with her.

Keys jingle, not hers, but some other driver, also in a mini van.
Lots of kids, so lots of ball this summer.
Slow pitch, that under hand crap.

The trees that border Parker's pavement are dark soldiers.
Standing tall and still.

Jerry sure rips it on the piano.
I find out there is no slang for piano.
Harmonica can be harp, but nothing for the piano?
Baby Grande, the Grande Baebee?
In a french accent please.

Another young girl walks by, talking on her mobile.
Crying.
'I would never call my child a brat, you know?'
Pleading.
Only a brat pleads or cries.

The sound of a can opening.
A new guy on the porch, the party house porch.
Watching me with his legs wide.
I am a smug woodchuck.
Feet crossed in the cherry red recliner.

When are they going to ask me over?

I'll stand on their picnic table.
Crash the party, but in a good way.
Just as I roll in, the REAL party starts.
Puncture beer cans, drink it fast.
What is that game called?

I'd say, why on earth haven't we ever partied on Wednesday night before?

It is nice to meet you, neighbour.

Architectural Indulgence: Hen House

E: What grows in swamp?
JH: Swamp Blueberry
Swamp Cabbage
Peas, Beans - aren't too picky.
E: Alternately you could raise the beds though?
JH: Yes, E, as high as Mnt Zion.
E: Then we could grow happy tomatoes.

E: Won't the bugs drive you mad?
JH: I will throw rocks at them.
E: I won't, I will shout BEAT IT!
JH: Yes, then they won't bug you.
E: Har Har

E: Wood splitting?
JH: All kinds of it.
A wood pile as intricate as a jigsaw.

E: In the winter I would throw paper airplanes at you from the loft bedroom.
JH: I'd catch them all with my teeth.
E: It would make P mental.

E: Who would we have for dinner?
JH: Anyone who liked racelette and wild caught pigs.
E: You think there are pigs in the bush?
JH: Absolutely I do.
Bigger then you and I.
E: Mean pigs?
JH: Only if you put an arrow through it's heart.

E: I will make us a quilt.
In the middle there will be an arrow through it's heart.
Deal?
JH: I'll make the floor plan.

Sea Dog Blog

Greetings from Gorgeous New England!
As I write this, I am rolling up one pant leg, and setting to clam dig all afternoon with Hen.
Later tonight we will board one of those famed windjammers for an evening sail,
then settle into Lobster and Sauvignon Blanc back at our cabin.

Tomorrow we will cycle into Portland at some point, to visit LeRoux Kitchen;
hopefully my saddles will hold all of the fine wares we will return with.

Has anyone been to Emerson Books & Antique Maps?
Hear it's fab.

Well, can't really justify writing anything longer than this.
It's simply too divine to be electronic...

Reeking of Privilege,

JP

Beast Regards

Occasionally I sign off correspondence Beast Regards
Beast Regards is, of course, an error;
but today I'm thinking that perhaps it is a subliminal one?

Allow me to explain.
Last night I was in the skitter infested cedar forest of anon
I was thinking, thinking:
ESCAPE ROUTE

Not escaping the forest, rather, the real world, where I am skirted and cosmopolitan.
And busy.

In the skitter infested cedar forest I am a woman in Rubbers
A trail blazer next to my wood splitting hero.

A Huntress,
Your Huntress.

Best Regards: acknowledging my primitive self?

Beast Regards,

The Huntress.


PS
Found nice skitter rendition here:
http://leomatsuda-blog.blogspot.com

Beaver Valley Outreach

A gorgeoussimo silver footed cup cake plate.
A mysterious Italian widows scarf.
A near impulsive vest purchase for Dear Hen.

Still searching for copper...

Touties, I promised no shopping, but where is the incentive?
I ask myself.

For when you are as municipal as moi,
your luncheons are very cosmo,
very one hour.

My head this afternoon is in St Elsewhere.
I am longing for patience.
Patience. Patience.

Mind is racing:
1. Weed garden, lazy JP
2. Make strawberry jam, no excuse, you have pectin
3. Launder linens, line dry
4. Dream up delicious arrangement for tomorrow night theme: R&R
5. Tile bathroom (?)
6. Read: The G&M article on migrant African Lumberjacks - from Saturday

But...

The Linden Trees are fragrant today,
and last night, as the lightning flashed, I listened to Puccini's La Boheme.

By lantern, no lights this week.
Enchanted by shadows against the wall, crooked shadows that cast domestic histories.

Love Child sweat shirts
In step with Aretha.

I think I've got stars in my eyes
this summer.

Antique Anatomy

Antique Anatomy.
Essential Monsters.

On The One Hour Lunch:

I went strolling in the park.
Pencil skirt, spectacles
Bag of nuts.

It is sunny and cool this summer.
People who think that they are close to farmers complain:
'Wish it wasn't so damn cool all the time.'
I don't think it's too much a problem though.
I like a breeze.

Strolling led me to the forbidden fruit of the antique store.
Searched for thick Mexican throw blanket like the one from my happy Tuesday with JH.
No luck.
BUT did decide on spot a new thing to collect;
Oil Lanterns made in Canada.
Mind has created perfect spot for new collection inside the Gentleman's Parlor.
Imagine the GP:
Slate, paler then slate, gray walls.
Bone white plaster casts of animals mid-roar
Oil paintings depicting before the storm scenarios.
Beautiful hardcover books.
Red chaise lounge for the whores to drape.
Old black oil lamps on top of the record shelving.
Imagine when they are lit,
and I am listening to Odetta in a thunder and lightning storm.

I strolled about town after my guilty indulgence.
Oil lantern laced between my fingers like an old timey widow waiting for her sea dog to arrive home.
Instead though, I was skirted and stuffing face with cashews.

Me O My Imagination, Touts.

Until Tomorrow.

Cake Light

Much to my chagrin I did loath that Zin
And wished that I had purchased with thought
For impressions are hasty when wine is not tasty
And the old vines were definitely not.

Touts Nico songs swirling around my head. Highway ghosts, alternate routes.
I've been thinking about being more accountable for what I am writing, less - - poetic.
The busy beans of the J months come.
Just passed are the birthdays and gardens
on the horizon:
the weddings, the saying goodbye, and things.

O imminent change, you're alright when you don't knock my feet out.

You may be reading this and wondering what is fabulous.
What is the of-the-moment?
What makes the heart strings sing?
What?

1. Cake light
2. Effort
3. The bistro table, the linen, gleaming/shiny glassware
4. Tent pitched on rock
5. Loverboy - Everybody's working for the weekend
6. TT
7. The road less traveled.
8. Maira Kalman

In Vine Land news, I have noticed some Baco decay, due likely to the harsh winter past.
Foch are going to be moved to the Swarthmore lodge as soon as chance come.
When does chance come?
After church on Sunday,
quite bloody likely.

For the moment, Boblio is a swamp song of summer urgency:

1. Can I get my chillun's reading levels up in two months?
2. Can I?
3. I plan on reading through the 2008 book club selections in two months.
4. Yes, we are looking for a bobby card. We're vacationing for two months.

Reeky privilege.
AT LEAST there remains lemon cake, letter openers, big rain drops
and etc.

A Bientot