to feed thy soul

my fisheye adaptor ended up, last week, somehow, in several alarming pieces, and i suspect, somehow, that i didn't reassemble it - tsk - properly.
so, the swell of this horizon is undeniably assymetrical, but i don't mind too much: the listing rows of hyacinths* still suggest, as i hoped they would, a sweet-scented tray of purple delicacies proffered, tilted, for approval and admiration.
you'd almost think, wouldn't you, that there were hills in this part of holland?

*perhaps i should have gathered a birthday bunch: a friend - er, acquaintance - is celebrating his 29th today; my best wishes to him!

and don't call me sugar

life can be complicated sometimes.
and when things turn labyrinthine, as they have now, i bless people like bob, in this
case for his via-via "when you see red, shoot it" quote: it distracted me today, teased me
into my files, took my mind off that call that hasn't come...

...and maybe won't.
there are few certainties in life, but this is one: the tiny flirtatious flutters of scarlet
do make a difference here, four times over.
and this is another: telephones never ring when you most need them to.

the cat and the fiddle

"the mere brute pleasure of reading - the sort of pleasure a cow must have in grazing."
- lord chesterfield (british statesman, diplomat and wit, 1694-1773)

a random quotation does me a good-turn-of-the-day:
these images didn't have much in common except that specific shade of teal blue.
and now they do.

fair and tender ladies

the neverending construction work in amsterdam has been known to make me
grumble, here - and to anyone within earshot as i stumble, harried, over yet another hurdle.
above the confusion and the rubble, though - along the rokin, for instance - the gables still soar, stately and serene, gentlewomen with dusty skirts, unperturbed and necessarily patient.
i'll just be patient, too, i suppose.
and i'll just keep glancing cloudward.

and now for something...different

"if you wait until you are sure, you will never take off the training wheels."
- unknown

i've had a holga for a while now, but its unfamiliarity and the price of film & developing kept me careful, and indecisive, and slow. i was sure, when i finally picked up the first prints yesterday, that most of the test roll would have to be written off as amateur bumbling.
i was right.
but wouldn't you know: the two acceptable images turned out to be one of bicycles...

...and one of boats.
tsk.
add one of café tables and chairs, and i would be totally predictable.

sweetness and light

"nice weather for paris", i said to rachel on wednesday, as we strolled through a sunny springtime amsterdam.
"any weather is nice weather for paris", she replied.
astutely.

*take a look, if you please, at bernard's anthropy, and a special look at this amazing image..and this...and. i could go on. see for yourselves.

one cool remove

he takes the call, there, in the chill shadow of empty market stalls, and, as she listens -
his voice is arch, charming - and shivers, he curves an arm around her.
it is an idle, an unintended, an unprecedented intimacy, and she leans, slightly
startled, into its absent-minded warmth.
"who was that, then?" she asks, as he pockets his phone.
"oh", he answers, "just someone..."
he looks, and slides, aside; their familiar distance is restored. they are, after all, just friends.
"...someone", he says, "from greece."

someone, today

wise dutch words say: you don't have children..you are given them.
i have been given, been blessed, twice.
my oldest turns twenty-four today:
happy birthday, thijs!

walking on clouds

on the eve of my final working day, just when my heart was heaviest, i received a
phone call from the one company that had actually invited me, a while back, for an interview.
i start my new job at the end of next week. i am very very happy .
sometimes i suspect that somebody up there - or somewhere - is watching out for me.

overflowing

"mama!", my daughter cried, this morning, at ten o'clock, on my one day off this week, "there's something wrong with the washing machine!"
we had - had - such fine friday plans, she and i: we would sleep late; we would ease into the day, spend a few hours in town, shop, pause somewhere nice; we would buy the ingredients for maccheroni al ragu bianco, which is her favourite dish. she has accumulated all the "study points" she needs to graduate, so this was part of her celebration: the meal, and the afternoon together.
instead, we mopped up water rippling an inch deep on the whole top floor, wrung out every towel we own, again and again, called the repairman, waited for his arrival, and accepted his somber verdict.
we did get into the city, though, but a bit later than planned, and a bit stressed.
and we did do most of what we intended to do.
and we did dine on maccheroni al ragu bianco...
because graduating from college is worth a feast, deluge or no deluge, as far as i can see.