So, I’ve reverted to the very cool Sunflower layout that Sarah did for me about a year ago. It’s a Georgia O’Keefe sunflower, and matches the box of stationery I have. It’s good to coordinate. Sometimes.

And now it becomes obvious why I will never get a tattoo: I can’t commit to a blog layout, so how could I ever commit to permanent art on my body?

Saturday Morning: Letter to my Aunt

This is an email message I just sent to my aunt, but it felt like a blog entry, and so it has become one.
It’s a day of soft grey light, and cool, slightly damp, but not really rainy air. A day when Nature gives you a facial and you smile into the mist and feel rejuvenated. I am sitting here on the bed, typing by the light filtering in through the partially-closed blinds. It is nearly noon, but we were up til five, puttering in our respective computer rooms, and so we’ve slept in.

Next to me, Zorro and Cleo are curled up in one furry ball. By day, they bicker, but when they are sleepy, they become best friends, sharing warmth, and looking insanely cute. It is my firm belief that the cuteness is a strategic ploy to get me not to move them. So far, it has worked.

Beyond the dogs is the Incredible Sleeping Fuzzy. He snores sometimes, and I make him roll onto his side, which stops it, of course. We have no firm plans today, except that I have a salon appointment at five. It’s been ages since I’ve had my hair cut and colored, and I’m looking forward to this with far more anticipation than I should have, considering I have no idea HOW I want it cut. (The color is a blend called “hershey bar” and I had my old salon send the formula to the new one.)

I spent part of last night in a marathon session of matching cd’s with their cases, and putting them on my spiffy new cd rack. Call it not-quite-spring cleaning, or just a fit of organization, but it’s nice having them all alphabetized. I even found some stuff I’d forgotten I had, and it was like getting a present. A musical present. Perhaps I should have these tidying spurts more often.

There’s a dog barking outside, and Cleo has an answering growl percolating in her throat. If I touch her back, run my fingers through her fur, and tell her it’s okay, she’ll go back to sleep. I love how predictable she can be. (Zorro ignores the other dogs in the neigbhorhood, espousing the philosophy, “If I can’t see you, you don’t exist.”)

I promised an accurate list of the books I’m reading:
Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, by Madeleine L’Engle and Nichole Nordeman
Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, by Kathleen Norris
Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis

The latter was suggested to me by Father Bob, the others looked interesting, and I generally like what both L’Engle and Norris have to say. I’ll let you know what I think as I finish each one.

The dogs are beginning to stir, and I’m hearing the shower call my name, so I shall end this now.

May your Saturday be as peaceful and pleasant as mine.