Squish, squish, squish. That’s the sound from Zephyr and I walking through the park today. It is cold outside. I’d say it’s about as cold as it gets here, w/o snowing, which it doesn’t, well, very rarely.
Still, I needed to get out and walk today, puddles or no puddles. So, I bundled up in a scarf (mine 😉 ), felt hat (not mine), gloves and groovy new thrift store sweater that I had scheduled to become a pillow cover and wrist warmers, but it is sooooo cozy and beautiful, however a tad bit small. It’s the creamiest peach, lightly speckled w/red, turquoise, brown, orange. It could be a free range egg; the speckles, the sheen. I want yards and yards of this yarn! (I would show you but if you’ve been reading (bless you) you know my camera dilemma. (BIG SIGH).
The man collection is moving forward. I hooked a good length of a mocha scarf last night–longer this time–while watching Into the Wild–the story of Christopher McCandless. (We’ve got a starlet connection w/access to movie previews.) But I had to stop watching before the end, save the sorrow for daylight hours. The movie is exquisite. Photography, narration, all of it, beautiful. I kept praying for Alexander (Emile Hirsch) to survive, even knowing his end. Adapt or parish–hateful phrase, but seemingly true.
The look of utter loss and confusion he experienced on re-entry to L.A. of all places, and his urgency to escape. His peacefulness only found in wilderness, quite, emptiness. I get that. I am very familiar w/the escapist road trip: jeep, dog, books, tent, road. . . freedom. Yet near his life’s end, he writes “happiness is only real when shared.”
Blessing a swift release to Heath Ledger. I feel rather stunned. What a tragedy. May he hook up w/Christopher M.; a shared, peaceful, wild, freedom.
what a day, dahlila.