Monday, May 4, 2009

an embarrassment of riches, & also my feet are not pretty

It rained this weekend, I was homesick for Chris and Abe Lincoln, and I have two cold sores and PMS. Desperate times require desperate measures, so I grabbed a New Yorker and one of the delicious cookies my sweet Tonto sent and got into the tub,

where I read an uplifting article about David Foster Wallace's inability to finish his last novel and subsequent suicide.

When I got out of the tub -- finally warm but even more depressed and worried I might have contracted nun's foot, a strain of athlete's foot that's rampant in convents -- I found the British playwright had left flowers in my studio and my "art buddy" (a T.Diddy townsperson) had brought me some dried sage and other herbs from her ranch.

I am a lucky (if grumpy) woman.


  1. Omigod you are a brave soldier to climb into that bathtub. Just one look at the walls and I feel my clean-tub anxiety climbing out my eyeballs.

  2. holy witchiness batman! can you score your witch of a sister some of that sage?? it's beautiful. pea green with envy!

    That Tonto totally rocks it, sending you cookies?? she makes us all look like such slouches! oh wait, we are!

  3. photos really are amazing. You can write and take well thought out, inspiring, amazingly composed, color driven, creative photos? That's not fair, your'e only suppose to get one talent per person, per lifetime.