Today at work I began Under the Tuscan Sun again, and realized again how wonderful it is. There is something luscious and alive about Frances Mayes' writing, subject matter, voice. It made me feel more alive after reading it. It made me remember how much I love fruit. I know it's probably difficult to see a connection there, but evidently there is one.
Today also the ice that has been building between myself and Brian (ice of which he was probably completely unaware) was broken. The cracking began, actually, when I accidentally dropped a bucket on his head. Sometimes I get defensive, and then I get obsessive, and then I become ice woman. I'm glad it's melted a bit.
Today I went to an art opening with my mom, and some of the paintings were just stunning. I hope I can paint like that, someday. I guess I'll have to get over my fear of oil paints first, though, as most of the paintings I loved were oil paintings.
On the way home tonight I watched the moon, imagining different shapes around it. Usually the crescent moon looks like a swing to me, attached by an invisible string to the star that's always near it. Tonight though it looked like a thumbnail, like a luminescent cat's nose, like a sleepy eye, like an aircraft, like a wide grin. The last made me grin back.
I realized, too, that it's the same moon that's always been there. I mean, the same one that has always, always been there. Einstein watched that same moon. Galileo, Chief Powhatan, Copernicus, and Isaac Newton watched it. Caesar, Pilate, and Jesus watched it. Mohammad watched it. Rameses. Homer. Eve. It's kind of difficult for me to grasp.
In other news, my friend Aby posted a link to this super awesome (but unfortunately, still just conceptual as far as I can tell) stove of the future.