They stare up at me, waiting, their luminous eyes large, and tracking my every move. Every flash of my knife makes their heads twitch a little bit. Every time they hear the blade contact the wooden block they flinch slightly, moving one foot just a little bit, then easing it back into its starting position.

Small worried noises escape from their throats though they are clearly trying not to whimper. They are anxious sounds, loaded with need, hope, excitement, fear. When I glance at them, their eyes seem to bulge, as if it takes all their effort to be quiet, to remain still.

Finally, preparations are complete. I put down the knife, wipe off the wooden block, pick up the matching blue plastic containers, and cross the room, uttering a quiet but firm, “Stay,” under my breath.

To their credit, they obey, until I have placed each container on the floor. Then, almost gleefully I announce their fate with a single word, “Dinner!”

They scramble to be the first to reach a container, gulp down food as if their last meal was far longer in the past than twenty-four hours.

You ask me when I feel powerful? I have power coursing through my veins all the time, but it’s the strongest every day at five.

Why?

Because they are dogs, and I am the Keeper of Food Bowls.

Have you ever fallen in love with a complete stranger…and had a whole affair in the space of maybe three sentences, and one fast moment? Have you ever glimpsed the alternate reality, the limitless possibilities, in an encounter that lasted no more than fifteen or twenty seconds?

They all laughed at Christopher Columbus
When he said the world was round.
They all laughed when Edison recorded sound.

Sometimes, I think I was born in the wrong decade, and would have been much happier around the era when the Rat Pack was in their prime. I am constantly humming tunes from that period, the ones that we now refer to as “standards,” and three of my favorite modern-era musical performers are Harry Connick, Jr., Michael Buble’ and Diana Krall.

They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother
When they said that man could fly
They told Marconi wireless was a phony
It’s the same old cry

I appreciate a singable sort of song. Oh, I like to bop around to pop and dance music as much as anyone, but give me a big band and a melody with equal parts scat and swing, or the encouragement to belt (I do love to belt) and I’m not in my living room any more, but on stage at the Tropicana Las Vegas, wrapped in satin and torch-singer red lipstick.

They laughed at me wanting you,
Said I was reaching for the moon
But oh, you came through,
Now they’ll have to change their tune

It’s good to have a rich inner fantasy life and a musical vocabulary that lets you explore many different dreams. Espresso in Havana? Sure! Tap dance down 42nd Street? Why not. Inhabit the world of a nightclub chanteuse, if only for a couple hours? Absolutely!

Yes, it’s completely geeky. But it keeps me happy. And relatively sane.

They all said we never could be happy,
They laughed at us and how!
But ho, ho, ho!
Who’s got the last laugh now?

Wintersweet at LJ (who I’m not linking because I never remember who is friends-only and who isn’t, mentioned this the other day, which reminded me that I hadn’t mentioned it.

Museum day is a national event that Smithsonian Magazine sponsors. This year, it’s co-sponsored by Hyundai. If you click the image above, or go here, you can fill out and print a card that gives you and a guest free admission to any of a number of museums around the country, this Saturday, September 29th.

(Apologies to my Canadian readers, this only applies to museums in the U.S.A. – though if you live near the border, and feel like driving…)

Fuzzy and I have plans to go to the Frontiers of Flight museum at Love Field. Where will you go?

I’ve been writing a lot about insurance for work this week, which, I have to be honest, is a refreshing break from cars. I’m now an expert, by the way, in how to reduce your premiums. Just ask me.

Because of this, it seems only natural that when talking with my mother about my hope to spend May writing in France, and her wish to spend the same spring exploring Italy with my stepfather, that the conversation eventually got around to traveler protection, and specifically travel insurance for people over 65 – like my parents – or rather, like my step-father.

We also had a lovely laugh about the “instant Mexico insurance” that people used to buy before any trip across the border. It doesn’t exist any more, but really traveling to Mexico is safer than traveling from New York to San Francisco, as long as you’re reasonably aware of your surroundings.

Speaking of travel, I found that the Ethan Hawke/Julie Delpy movie Before Sunrise was one of the free videos on demand on Uverse last night, and had it playing while I was writing. I love that movie, and it’s sequel, Before Sunset because really, they’re just fascinating conversations set against amazing scenery. It’s like a walking tour, with someone else doing the walking.

Movies like that always make me feel like writing.
Yes, I find inspiration in odd places.

An early payday from a paid blogging service I work with has been translated into a new order from Black Phoenix.

Here’s what I’ve ordered (italics are BPAL’s descriptions):

Bottles:

Beaver Moon:
Traditionally, Beaver Moon is named thus for a very obvious reason: during this time of year, beavers are hard at work building their dams and preparing for the onset of winter. However, we at BPAL rarely let an opportunity for sleazy campiness pass us by! For your pleasure and amusement, we present this year’s incarnation of Beaver Moon: wild cherry with vanilla cream accord, and a hint of strawberry.

Samhain 2007:
Truly the scent of autumn itself — damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

Also imps (sample tubes) of:
Black Phoenix
Blood Kiss
Catherine
Kill-Devil
Nocturne
Windward Passage

which descriptions I won’t post.

I find that the descriptions of their scents inspire me as much as the actual scents do, if not more, and I like having options so I can pick a scent – or scents, some layer really well – to change or enhance my mood.

I spent most of my life not allowed to wear perfume because my mother is allergic.

I might be overcompensating now.

But only a little.

I am a beach baby, and I come by it honestly. The day before I was born, my very pregnant mother spent the day at the shore, floating and paddling in salt water until the lifeguard asked her to come in, telling her, “Miss, please come back to the beach now. Your mother is worried, and frankly, so are we.”

My first word was “beach,” and while I did have blocks, and play with them at a young age, my first toy was sand, my first structure a castle that looked suspiciously like an inverted paper cup fashioned from wet sand, with a sea gull feather as a flag.

I don’t live near enough to a beach to indulge in making sand castles all that often, but part of me still has that urge, which is why I was interested to learn of moon sand.

Moon Sand is technicolored modeling sand, softer and less messy than clay, and not dependent on water to make it stick together the way beach sand is. It’s non-toxic, contains no peanuts or wheat products, and you can get a sample kit for less than $20 (tax and shipping not included).

The folks who make Moon Sand also have come really cool sand castle molds, and an inflatable sand box that can hold enough sand for an entire model of Carcassone, or merely accommodate a collection of small hands. Even better, it doesn’t absorb water, and it floats, so if you wanted to build a moat around your castle, you totally could.

I’m really excited about ordering some moon sand.
Sand castles, here I come!

I like to write in bed. In fact, I do my best writing in bed. I even just emailed a friend that I was thinking about taking the desk out of my writing studio and replacing it with a day bed, so I could write the way I want to, and still be in my own space when Fuzzy’s monopolizing our bedroom sleeping off his over-night maintenances.

I mention this because if I do take such a drastic measure, it’s an excuse to go shopping for bedding, not that I need an excuse, really. Like books, you can never have too many pretty quilts or soft cotton sheets.

I browse online a lot, so when I found Terry’s Fabrics, you can bet that I was excited about the bedding potential they offered. Then I realized all the prices were in pounds, and they were in the UK. Still if I’m converting correctly, their prices are great, and they have an entire section of their website devoted to interior design tips, which I really enjoyed reading through, since my official knowledge is pretty much limited to grouping things in odd numbers, and never referring to draperies as drapes.

If you actually live in the UK, you may want to know that they have actual physical storefronts in Staffordshire and Stockport. Personally, I’m always a little bit more comfortable doing business with a click-and-mortar shop instead of one that is online only.

Check them out.
And then tell me about your design inspirations.
I really want to know.