It’s a breezy evening in Los Angeles. The last bit of sun is heading south over the hills throwing all sorts of gorgeous deep gold light into my art room as I type this. There is a line from a poem that is always running through my head:
I dreamed of days that stopped in the beginning
Well I dream of sundown times that last for 8 hours. My sister wants 7-9 a.m. to last for 12 hours instead of 2. Which time of day would you like to stretch out?
I worked in my visual journal AND made mailart all day. There was also time for napping and reading. I include only a few snippets of the mailart so as not to spoil the surprise. My mailart always gets hungup somewhere. The ponies from the Pony Express that service my neighborhood are a bunch of good-for-nothing, apple-eating steeds that have more important things on their minds than the delivery of my mail. Next time I see them I’m going to lasso them and give them a good talking to. I hope they don’t bite.
Over 20 years ago I got a job at the equine department of the vet hospital at Kansas State University shoveling horse doo doo. Well it wasn’t exactly a job. I HAD to work to pay off a $500 pelvis replacement bill. No, it wasn’t my pelvis. No, the cat who got the new metal plate didn’t thank me. He ran off shortly afterwards. Anyway I worked with 2 old fellers that were about 100 years old, but they were v.v. strong. They showed me how to heave-ho the prairie grass and other assorted bales into the horses stall, clean out the doo-doo, spread out new straw, and not get kicked in the head or the arse in the process. They failed to mention that horses bite. One day I was petting these cute little baby horsies and cooing and marveling over their long horsie eyelashes when…..CHOMP! One of them bit me on my knocker. No, not the door knocker, my knocker knocker. You know boob, breast, teat, winnebago. I screamed so loud the 2 old fellers came running to see what was the matter. They seemed to think that was mighty funny. Anyway my point is that the ponies on my route are probably those kind of horses. Cute from a distance, but sneaky and prank-playing up close.
Tomorrow is Monday and I’ll go back to work. Fortunately my kiddos don’t bite (not me anyway), but they do like to horse around. I guess if I’d stop laughing at their tricks I’d stop encouraging their misbehavior, but I can’t help it. Some of them do the darndest things.
I include in my photos today the lovely Gator Pride who opened up further today, a journal page, some mailart fragments, and a very bad kitty who looks very innocent when he falls asleep with his paw on his duck. Do not be fooled by such trickery