Thunder Cells

Erratic power supply, I'll send when I can. I need a desk-top air conditioner for my black Dell. Someone said they make small free-standing units now. Last couple of days, some of these storm cells have been quite intense. The Scioto River is one shade of mud, dumping into the Ohio, which is a different shade; standing at the overlook you can watch the mingling. Fluid dynamics. After lunch, Sara sets the ceramics show, I move pedestals around and handle all the pieces several times, look at each piece closely. Potters are people too and personality is revealed in their work. Pegi mimics the Scott Dooley pieces in a kind of Balinese dance routine that's quite funny and absolutely on the money. I love working with Sara, setting a show, I learn something every time. Any given show, there are almost infinite variables, what you strive for is a pleasing presentation. When D and I work without her, we constantly ask ourselves what Sara would do and often the mere question supplies an answer. Early to town this morning, below the floodwall, and a skein of geese, forty or fifty of them, heading north. Squawking to beat the band, an eccentric V, a beautiful thing. Later, talking with Julia, a board member, while having a smoke outside, she mentioned calling in warblers with a tape recorder. Gotta go, thunder. Later. Most of these cells come from the northwest, moving southeast, at their worst I think of them as water balloons hurled my friends in St. Paul, but whatever, I can see and hear distinctly when the center has moved over me. I count -Mississippi one, Mississippi two, Mississippi three- and as it moves to my left, as I sit in my writing chair, I know I can log on and write you, because my power comes from the west. Be it ever so. I love the west, especially that band between the Rockies and the Basin And Range. The most beautiful place in the world, except for where I find myself in the moment. I try to live within my means, and that includes location. I'm not sure what I mean by comfort; as a base line we might use your head in someone's lap, their fingers in your hair. There could be a list here, things that make you feel good. Right then, I'm listening to NPR, and The Indigo Girls sing a song. Perfection may await, near enough works for me. What do you have to go on, a thin thread. If you're like me it's a very thin thread, you do what you think you need to do. Elvis. Made me shout out loud. No, no, but that's not true, what was said, nothing makes any sense.