Wednesday, September 30, 2009

{radical acceptance}

"An old, old woman who has been living in the same town for many years. She sits by her window and thinks
what does she think about" {*}

The barking dog in the yard next door that belongs to the family with three children although you wouldn't know there were three children you never see them and they never play with the dog who is left outside and barks barks barks day and night and it never seems to quiet down a bit, joining in the fray of Good Humor Ice Cream Trucks and fire engines and the blaring of the air raid siren the first Tuesday of the month at one p.m.

although no one is certain whether the siren is for tornadoes or a Soviet air strike, neither of which has ever been a problem in this town, given that they are just far enough east to be out of tornado alley and something about the air currents or trade winds or Gulf Stream current or forestation in the region means the town is considered safe from the scourge of twisters, and it would be a very misguided Soviet attack indeed that hit the town instead of one of the cities several hundred miles away; why would they bother with the air raid siren for an attack on a fairly distant city, anyway, and wouldn't the planes have to come from Cuba rather than some mysteriously undetected aircraft sauntering over the Pacific and the U.S. airspace or maybe Mexican would undoubtedly raise some FAA eyebrows, and Cuba just seems audacious and unlikely given that entire Bay of Pigs fiasco which was just a media circus act of propaganda anyway, it never made any sense for Castro to take on Miami and who was president then,





reading
the combined joys of delightfully witty verbal and visual contemplations, delivered by the New York Times
weather
pastry season in full swing, perfect perfect crepes with strawberry compote will be followed by a blow-out batch of blueberry scones / but can "The Village Baker's Wife" really be out of print?

{*} many thanks to Linda for the custom prompt!