Holy Moly......it is a week since I uttered a blog-word to my dear friends and I am deeply ashamed, sorrowful, repentant and whatever. And it isn't as if I haven't tried......I have sat here staring at the virgin New Blog screen on many a morning and been unable to come up with a swingle word........that, of course, was meant to be "single" but I rather like "swingle"...if it isn't a word it ought to be.
I have also spent many an hour trying to analyze what the impediment is (very different from writers' block) and what may have altered within me during my recent trials and tribulations but I keep bruising my nose against a solid blank wall. However, today is my caregiver's day off and I am detecting an ineffable something........the vibrations are different when I am here alone and when Consolee is here with me...........somehow the solitude seems to have turned off the evil rays which have been blocking my blogging. Now, don't get me wrong, folks.....I am not blaming Angel-child Consolee.............and it is not simply that, when I have someone to talk to, the need to blog is somehow diminished because no conversation compares with the sharing that goes on here. I can only assume that the distraction of a presence alters my Blogability in some way. Or perhaps it is simply that Lois, the Hermit is a Blogger while Lois, the gregarious social butterfly is not. At any rate, I will simply take advantage of this hermit-day and pass on a few photos and random thoughts while the spirit is with me.
First, I must revert to my Pollyanna state and confess that, when the two of us sit in Crochet Corner gazing out into my little overgrown courtyard where the bougainvilla and jasmine vines spill over the wall in wild profusion, I am constantly reminded that I have the enormous privilege to live in Paradise. When I ripped out the 3 little sash windows in my living room and installed floor to ceiling glass panels I certainly knew what I was doing though I never envisioned that a klutzy tumble would install me in my recliner to gaze out for so many hours at a time. Anyway, all I can say is I am certainly glad I did.
Oddly enough, speaking of bougainvilla,. I have never had such a profusion of blossoms until this year when I have been forced by my enfeebled condition to neglect everything that is growing outside........hmmm.....could it be that plants resent having a Jewish Mother who is constantly pinching their little leaves and muttering, "eat, eat, and flourish, mine kindt" ?
These are potted bougainvilla in the back yard overlooking the pool...........never looked this good in all the years in have wrung my hands over them.
And, here is a rare shot of Baskin, my anti-social ingrate of a cat who has not let me touch him in the 6 or 7 years I have had him and for whom I went to the trouble of adopting Winnie to keep him from being so lonely....as you can see......my ploy was a success....he huddles near Winnie whenever he can and basks in her presence.......the little idiot. He could have had 7 years of petting if he weren't so stubborn....ah well......maybe some cats need to be hermits.........ya think?
The New Yorker covers: August 4, 1975
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