Finding Home

Sunday morning.

Today is my daughter’s last show in Cats. She’s Gemima, and she’s the youngest kitten. At first I was so nervous when she was doing her solos and dances that I kept twisting my hands like one of those old actresses from the silent movies. Now I relax. But what an odd, surreal show! Strangely costumed cats of all shapes and sizes skittering across the stage, and no connection from scene to scene–following true to T.S. Eliot’s poems. I see the last show today. The opera house is now air conditioned; when I was a child it was beastly hot in there, and I kept scootching in my seat, a hard, narrow thing. The seats haven’t changed, I don’t think.

So I’m currently writing an essay on Lyme Disease, and should have it ready to post for next week. No word on either of my books, and though the weather was lovely at the Farmer’s Market in Johnson, I didn’t sell a book. But a woman came up to me and said that she and her husband had read Peace Cottage and loved it, so that was sweet. They are looking forward to November, when Raising Evangeline comes out. A thank you to Maria, who posted about the book on her Facebook page. I really appreciate this, because it helps get my work out to people who might not know about it.

Here’s another vacation picture. I post them not only because they are pretty, but because they bring me back to a place I love.



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barcelona flaneuse

I've been to Barcelona three times and I'm ready to return!

Down to Earth

Finding Home


Finding Home

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