Month: September 2009

More writing about writing (writing tools)

Ephemera / writing

They have a pen store here in Boulder. It seems, too, that my hand is no longer too shaky from the operation to write with a fountain pen. I have a kid’s pen, which I can and have labeled with my name. There seems to be a primal urge to paste my name over everything I own. Memory of Mom sitting in her chair in the golden light of the floor lamp, sewing name labels […]

Processes of writing

music / writing

Image by Tom Marcello via Flickr Two days ago, my friend Donna and I, as well as Other Patti, whom you might know from these pages and who is visiting me here and doing some work on our home (she’s an interior decorator, did I mention that? I think I might have, but am not sure) had lunch together at the Dushanbe Tea House here in Boulder. We got to talking about many things, one […]

Sunny downtown Boulder

Ephemera

I am blogging to you from a very rainy downtown Boulder. It should be sunny. Sunny is what I signed up for. Maybe a cloud or two when it snows. Not this chilly damp, which I thought that I left at home in Cincinnati. However, here I am, trying another independent coffee house which offers free WiFi. There are many of these in Boulder, each full of people like me drinking lattés and staring intently […]

Sarah the scary woman

Ephemera

After Tripp was born, Sarah would pay more attention to our son than she would to her own baby, Trig. Sarah has a weird sense of humor. When she came home from work, Bristol and I would be holding Trig and Tripp. Sarah would call Trig—who was born with Down syndrome—“my little Down’s baby.” But I couldn’t believe it when she would come over to us and sometimes say, playing around, “No, I don’t want […]

Changes in the neighborhood

Natural world

It is the start of fall, and all changes in season bring changes everywhere. But not all changes are due to the seasons, I figure. Our windows in Boulder look out upon the windows of the condos in another building, who have a good view of us. One learns about one’s neighbors, habits if not names. To my sadness, the Old Ladies With the Cats, who lived directly opposite us, are no longer there, and […]