Orion and I swam, then while he napped I started painting the kitchen cabinets. Actually, what I started is more like a painting that begins on the kitchen cabinets and will spill over onto the far wall. I've been thinking about it for some time and had the supplies on hand so, just like that, I sat down on the floor and began.
Tonight I picked Aubrey up from her friend's at 8:30. The thermometer read 100.
You've probably gathered already that I'm interested in doing some underwater photography. I emailed Mimi Ko and (she is so cool) she emailed me back some options for working with what I have on hand. Already I've found a case for my camera. Thanks, Mimi!
She'll be visiting in August and we'll get really creative---though, not necessarily under water.
Recently Pete called in to the Marshall Gilbert radio program regarding rabidly right wing Ann Coulter's new book The Church of Liberalism. He requested Gilbert present another side(ours) by interviewing Sam Harris, author of The End of Faith. The End Of Faith, by Sam Harris
We're sure that Gilbert, who is as Right as Right can be, will not, but hope the mention may have sold a couple of books for Harris.
I finished The End of Faith several weeks ago and will say that, though I don't agree with it wholesale, it's a smart, rational argument and well worth the read.
Since the upsets in the Catholic Church, the religious infestation of the White House and the flack over Dan Brown's mediocre but fun Da Vinci Code, people seem to be talking about religion more openly than ever before. This, at least, is a step forward.
On that note, here SlaughterHouse Studios: Sacred Sand I explain how I came to The "Church" of the Desert. It's a "rerun" for those of you who've been with me for a long time, but some of you found me more recently and might enjoy it. Somehow, in today's heat, it carries a strong presence for me.
Since I began writing this it's cooled down to a brisk 98 outside. Aubrey, Orion and I are going for a quiet nighttime swim before bed.
On Tuesday I'll be back in the studio. If I fail to tell you about what I've decided to to for Tiny Stories, please remind me. And back in there, I'll remember to say what I wanted to about burning. But I can't sit here any longer. It's cloistering, even in the air conditioning.
If I haven't said so lately, thanks for being here. Thanks for commenting. Thanks for thinking.