And what a fine vintage you are. Hronia pola, koritsi mou.
IT'S ALL ABOUT YOU!
(YiaYia and her friends say: Five-Oh? Po po.)
Cigar box assemblage with tile and feathers held in with tension.
Detail of above.
ATC using the tile as a focal point.
By the way, I am going to be teaching in Saluda, NC at Random Arts. September 22. Come see me. Maybe the Novocaine will have worn off by then, hindering my Sylvester Stallone impersonation.
How good of you to worry yourself over my well-being. Let me assure you that you needn't come fetch me. I am quite well and our party has arrived safely in Italia. Your descriptions, however colorful, did not prepare me for the magnificent beauty of this place. The deep blue of the waters, the heavy smells of coffee and baking bread wafting through the streets, the delightful contrast of the rough clay houses and jagged cliffs against the Mediterranean sky. It is everything you promised and more, offering an array of beautiful landscapes for me to practice my watercolors.There is a beautiful painting in my chamber of one of the noblemen who once owned this villa. It is done in the style of the old masters and is likely quite valuable. I have spent hours studying this portrait and wondering about its subject. He looks to have been a quite intellegent and handsome young lord.
Reviewing the above passages, Sir Wendall, I realize that by the tone of this letter I may seem quite hysterical. I must be clear: Botsotini has done nothing (thus far) that could be construed as inappropriate. However, it is very obvious to me that the Widow Applecross' trusting nature and benevolence are causing her peril.Please advise me as to what course of action to take. I cannot stand idly by when in my core I feel such unrest as to the character of this man. I only wish you were here to counsel me and offer your trustworthy advice as a voice of reason to our dear friend, Widow Applecross.
Warmest regards, I eagerly await your reply.Miss Antigone Emmerton
I received your letter. So sorry to hear of your misfortune. You must have caught a grippe on Uncle's boat. One must always keep one's paws dry on such occasions or suffer the consequences. Please use greater caution and discretion for the remainder of your time abroad or I shall have to come and fetch you!As for you mother, she is fine, busying herself digging in the garden and, of course, fussing over your dear sister's upcoming nuptials. There is much commotion over the table linens and the necessary procurement of a particular kind of lace, but I cannot give you many details as I am careful not to involve myself in such matters. Any display of even the faintest interest could result in conversations about the pedestrian qualities of the Battenburg variety for an indeterminable period of time. Mysteriously, your father's work has kept him in the city these many weeks.
My Grandma Lena had a St. Bernard named, you guessed it, Bernadette. Kinda like naming a wiener dog Heidi. Or Oscar. Grandma and her sister, Aunt Mary, had previously owned two standard poodles: Percy and Pierre. Maybe that's why her bathroom door had a tiny black poodle door knocker on it. Go figure.
I remember riding Bernadette like a pony, but she was only one of the many fantastic attractions at Grandma's house, an old frame two story that had been converted from a broom factory sometime in the '20s. The basement had a dirt floor, there were fabric accordion screens instead of doors in the rooms upstairs, and her pantry had in indescribable smell and a near magical quality.
Gram had a fridge with the freezer drawer on the bottom where we'd pull out delights such as orange sherbet push ups or ice cream sundae cups we'd eat with flat wooden spoons that came wrapped in paper. Gram had lots of tricks. She used to fill a 2 litre bottle half way up with tap water -- not just any tap water, Chicago City Water, the absolutely coldest, most delicious water in the world -- and lay it on its side in the freezer. Once it froze, she'd fill it the rest of the way up and put it in the fridge along side her carton of Salems with it's half frozen side slowly melting, ensuring a brain freeze for the drinker. We all drank straight out of that bottle and felt like we were doing something forbidden that our parents would never allow at home.
One particularly scorching summer when the tar in the street was molten and we were all too wilted to move, some boys opened up a fire hydrant across Roosevelt Road. They held a piece of 2x4 in front of the spout, diverting the gush into a wide arc . Kids came from several blocks away to run through that gloriously cool spray of Chicago city water until the CFD showed up and stopped our fun.
(I know, this tangent doesn't have much to do with the dog theme, but there was a fire hydrant reference.)
A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance,and to turn around three times before lying down.
--- Robert Benchley ---
Conn, Reese & Trumpet at Dog Beach in Florida.
Trumpet on vacation. I greased him up with SPF 30