this is part one

i hate that the first part of the blog is in another place so i've copied it here. now i can release the other one into cyberland, especially seeing how i don't have the passwords for it anymore...

Monday, October 30, 2006

another day

I went outside this morning, to go down into the cellar to look for the windows software. It was about 7:15; I was determined to solve my computer problems after a somewhat sleepless night worrying about lost data and the hours I spent on the accounting program, interspersed with "i will buy a memory stick tomorrow" mantras. Stopping at the table, I looked out at the crispness of the morning. I looked down at the Iranian cloth I had put out yesterday to air; what was the white stuff on it? I stared down at it, momentarily confused, and put a tentative finger out to touch the unrecognisable substance. Oh! It's cold!! Oh My!! Is it frost? It's FROST!! I was so surprised. As I gave a little chuckle, I noticed another cold weather phenomena; my breath misting the air. I closed my eyes, threw back my head and took a deep breath, and then another, my arms clasped around my body. My favourite Goethe quote murmered past my lips: "Nothing is worth more than this day".

Saturday, October 28, 2006

a walk on the beach

A walk on the beach really isn't that much of an event anymore. In the sense that a walk is an event if it seldom happens, that walking for pleasure is something that is not often thought of or engaged in. I go to for the beach walk once a day, twice if i remember to do it. Now I know that sounds strange - "remember" to walk?? How can one forget? I'll tell you, it is easy for me to forget that I can walk to the beach because I can, because I want to, not because I only have 3 or something days left before I go home and can only remember the walks on the beach. I must actively remember that a walk on the beach is an easy possibility for me. It is a quiet walk, a gentle time (although the climb down is hard on my knees and the climb up works my circulation) that does not involved lots of trash on the path, lots of other dogs and dogshit, wind and dust in my eyes and ears.
The walk to the beach from Geddes starts out in civilisation; it is a walk down a paved country road with no curbs, shoulders or lines. Then, carefully or you'll miss it, take the path, the one lined with rocks on the right side, down past the last of the cultivated plantings. Down to the south, gently past the big trees and about a million tendrils of ivy. Now that you are lulled into a sense of easy going, here comes the down bit. Down, down, grab the handrail, step down sideways, take the definition of "steps" loosely, then walk the two planks to the beach.
The beach is a small one, very craggy and scattered with drifted-in logs that I'm sure have a technical name. There are rocks to throw and climb, and sets of stairs to the homes that flank the path to this spot on the water. There are many excellent places to sit, and tomorrow when I go I'll be taking a blanket and that book I started this morning.

Keemo and Felix like going on the beachwalk, although, I suspect, not with each other. Keemo is Sarah's dog, he is 9 years old, a dignified pitbull something that has the softest ears I've ever felt. He is with me for another week while Sarah is in NYC living her dream. Keems came with three balls, two of which I've had to put away as he and Felix spat about them. The big white one lives outside and goes on the beachwalks with us. He sleeps with Amber, which has pissed Chinook off as she usually sleeps with Amber. We've found if we separate the dogs for the important things in life, like eating and sleeping, they slightly less likely to fight. Yesterday they got after it in the kitchen; thankfully I had the presence of mind to turn on the sink sprayer and get them both, which immediately stopped the contact. Amber just sat there; I said to her later "Amber you must never get in the middle of the dogs fighting" and she replied that she knew that, why did I think she just sat there??