9.22.2017

red sky at night

View from Katie's last night
 Not so sure about the sailor's delight thing. Yesterday some boats made it back and forth. They brought tenants to Hannah's, so I left and took up residence at Katie's. After the red sky last night, though, the winds picked up and the tenants at Claudia's were unable to go home—boats cancelled today. So here I am until tomorrow. There are worse places to hide out!
A boat makes it into harbor yesterday morning

9.21.2017

the bells of san miguel


The bells they toll for thee, Mama.
My mother died early this morning. My sister and loving caregivers were there. More tk.

9.20.2017

blowing 30ish

The TV trucks are staked out in front of Hannah's Hideaway for a good view of the boiling ocean. (The surf, however, here anyway, is no good for surfing—just mush all over everywhere.) Boats have not run for the second day, and I am kind of hoping they won't tomorrow. Tenants are supposed to be coming in, and I would have to decamp early morning. Prepping for a night on Johnny's couch before I an get into my own pace. Wind whistling in the chimney and clanking anything there is to clank. Garbage cans rolling around the lawn. It's just another blow.

9.19.2017

hurricane dreams

My plan was to lie in bed all day and watch the waves roll in as Jose skirted the coast. I mean, who knows how long there will be a house here or a me here to watch. But I got up to put some stuff in the washing machine and the next thing you know another hurricane chaser came by and then there was socializing for some hours and anyway not much hurricane action. Power's on. Storm doors shut. Firewood in. Little bit of rain. Wind picking up to 20 mph or so—not even a decent nor'easter as yet.
  But I'm still wearing my bathrobe.

9.17.2017

birthday girlz


 She walked a tightrope between six and seven. The birthday party was over, but as the magic hour fell, alone in the back yard, she was still practicing on the slackline. She'll be better at it next year, and the next year.
   The all-Elmo birthday was a big success. She got the Elmo cake, made by Mama, and made herself an Elmo T-shirt, which she wore  despite her friends in party dresses. The paper plates and cups and napkins were Elmo too, though Mama was hard put to find stock that didn't say "first birthday." Who knows why, at sevn, in first grade, she had taken such a shine to Sesame Street. But she had, and it was a done deal. And everybody loved it.

9.15.2017

southern delights


 Can you even? Jan and I saw this bag of —what?—in Walmart and had to go for it. We were hysterically laughing at the (self) checkout counter. Jan was extremely disappointed that the inside of the package looked nothing like the outside and was simply filled with—chips. Sigh. She said she could detect a faint taste of gravy, but all I tasted was pepper. We did a blind taste test on a friend who could not tell what the flavor was meant to be. But they were a big hit with her dog.
  Other delights: My cousins Richard and his son Merrell.

9.14.2017

the story of calmamama


Daughter Hannah releases promo film just in time for the day she became a (lessthancalma) mama.  And I will see her and the mice tomorrow!


9.13.2017

now we are seven


Who's this snaggle-toothed, leggy creature? Camilla Imogen? How can it be? Can we even imagine life without her—only seven years and a day ago? Happy bday, Mimi!




9.12.2017

lot of water under

 Sixteen (?) years ago yesterday, I was painting on the beach in Block Island with Katie Knapp anders and  her class when Ed called to tell me that planes had flown into the World Trade towers and the Pentagon. He only got through because he was at Fox news. I couldn't really take that in. Everybody in the class borrowed my cell phone (not as pervasive at the time) to call family in New York. Nobody could get through. All I wanted to do was get to New York as fast as possible. But my brother Chris was in Block Island building the porch on Claudia's.
   Donna was in Europe, and her plane was grounded. You couldn't fly into New York.
   Frustrated by missing the biggest news event of all time in our hometown, we finally made it to the city to spend days wandering around downtown talking to people and taking pictures and video. I was pissed that I had just retired from People and had no brief to cover the story (though I later found out my editor would have been happy to have me cover it freelance). We never published our stuff but it did lead to our getting a gig doing documentaries at Oxygen.
    But this year, we were on the spot.
Donna Ferrato shoots the new World Trade.

9.08.2017

difference a day makes

 The difference a day makes. Started yesterday morning in clouds in the Great Smoky Mountains outside of Asheville, NC, and wound up at sunset on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Found a parking spot, but did not have the energy to empty the truckful of Missouri, Mexico and Alabama. Did that when I had to move the truck today. And now for the overdue bills.
   Word from brother Ben: Mom is in a holding pattern. Rarely conscious, but still in there somewhere.


9.05.2017

art in mexico

A young artist at work in his stuio and gallery.

At the bottom of the hillside where mom lives is an old fabric factory that has been converted into galleries and artists' studios. I had no idea. It is amazing, a giant labyrinth with scores of world class artists and thousands of works. People must come to buy from all over the country and from abroad.
  And then there is the found art in the markets, with pyramids of fruit and conglomerations of objects. Like zippers.
  I have left Mexico, however. My mother did not appear to hear me or see me when I bade her adieu, but apparantly this ayem she informed her overnight caregiver that I had left. So there is some there there. I am now in Alabama visiting family and friends and will head up the coast (chased by hurricanes?) tomorrow or the next day.

9.02.2017


Mom said she wanted to sit up, and the doctor  says, at this point, let her do whatever she wants. So Rosio and Omar and I wrestled her into her favorite rocking chair and lit the fire in the fireplace. Rosio planned to give her her Sunday bath. But she kept slipping down and flopping over, so we gave up and put her back in bed. The dog was very confused.