Amaryllis sillyramA

The expressions on their faces are the best part:
tough

Thanks to M. for sending that link along. While I was looking at the site it’s on (c-rap.com) I ran across a few DRI album covers, and boy did that bring back memories.

Then I got to wondering “what does DRI stand for?” I used to know but couldn’t come up with it & ended up going to google to find out. It’s not Dietary Reference Intakes in this case, nor is it Direct Rendering Interface (nor Infrastructure). Bonus points if you know the real answer off the top of your head!

Hi to Cat! (“Hi, Cat!”)
And Hi! to any of Cat’s lovely friends who have found their way here by her.

Henceforth I shall try to entertain more than just myself.

Yesterday I was sick in bed all day, sleeping some, reading some. Today for a while too. This book is another by Michael Chabon — I still haven’t got to The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay yet, but this other one, Summerland, snuck to the top of the stack and pulled me in. It’s been on my mind all afternoon. It’s definitely on the fantastic side — reminds me of Matt Ruff, sort of — but I certainly don’t mind a little wacky fantasy once in a while.

And there’s baseball in it! I can’t remember the last time I read anything related to baseball. My interest in the game has been waning over the last few years. At least I don’t follow the Mariners the way I used to, and I haven’t been near a sports section in ever so long. But I still love the game, and this book loves it too:

A baseball game is nothing but a great slow contraption for getting you to pay attention to the cadence of a summer day.

That’s so it.

One of the things that really hooked me though: I am afraid of the ball, and so is (was?) one of the people in this book. I would prefer to not be afraid of the ball, but I’ve been that way ever since I was forced to play dodge ball in junior high. For a while in my twenties I tried to play softball, but it was no good, and my teammates had no patience with me. Having that kind of bad experience in common with this character.. hmm, well I suppose I bonded with him more than a little bit.

Anyway, so far it’s a good read, and I can’t wait to see how it turns out.

Yesterday I stopped by the Metropolitan Market on the way home from work. It’s a good store — sort of like Whole Foods, but less crowded, even in the daytime. Good produce and nice people.

Outside the door they have a selection of plants and cut flowers, which I usually just walk by. This time I stopped to look at one of the potted plants, to see if it was a jasmine plant like what we got last summer. It was a weird clematis with little tiny flowers. But next to it was a 2-foot-tall Passion Flower plant! With a BLOOM and a bunch of buds! I’ve been watching out for one of these for years, oh, the last five years at least. Not necessarily at nurseries — don’t get to many of those — but just anywhere I see plants for sale.

The last time I saw one was in a different grocery store. It had been trained around a small heart-shaped trellis thing, and it was so tightly twisted around it, I had to bring it home and untangle it. That took hours. Afterwards I had a happy houseplant, at least for a few years. Perhaps it was a little too happy while it lived, since it never did put on a bloom. Apparently the passiflora that is all content will not bloom so well. That’s one of the things I learned in reading about them today. Another thing learned today: the tightly-wound plant is not uncommon, and doesn’t necessarily need rescuing. Still I’m glad to have freed that plant from its heart-shaped prison.

This time I believe I will plant it in the ground, if I can find a spot that is dry and sunny enough. Or maybe it will go in a pot on the deck. It’s sure sunny there.

The fruits are called maypops. I hope we get some maypops!

Now if only I could figure a way to grow some dragonfruit. Yum yum.

Nicholson Baker
A Box of Matches

Just finished this one again — read it a few months ago, then recently lent it to my mom. After she was done with it and it came time to discuss, I found I couldn’t remember what was in it. But I had enjoyed it so much! It was strange how little I remembered of it, even considering my sketchy memory. So I read it again, and it was just so good.

I honestly don’t know how Mr. Baker did what he did. Between him and Ms. Halliday I think I could learn a thing or two about how to write a book.

For starters, though, I need to get in the habit of writing at the moment the idea occurs. Otherwise I forget what it was I was going to put down. (See sketchy memory.) And then I just get mad, and that’s not good for anyone.