Erka+Days

My mother is 87. She has style. (Insert Prince song here), you got it.  We went to pick my Ma up on the 4th of July to take her with us to a Veda Rose Dinner. She had on a red blouse, a blue skirt and a white sweater. And then she popped a red straw hat on her head that was adorned with a red white and blue bandana…Stunning. I neglected to take a photo.

Dinner was good.

A long weekend. A welcomed break from the daily.

I have certain requirements. Musical requirements. I have a list. I got to check a musician off my list the night before I left for Manhattan. Pop took me to see John Hiatt. Hiatt was awesome as was his band, just like I knew they would be. I just squirmed in my chair and grinned. What is with white folks and clapping at concerts. Too cool for their own good. Dorks. So last on my list are Ryuichi Sakemoto and PRINCE. Well okay not last because the list can grow at my discretion.

Spent five days in Times Square hell. Worked the Fancy Food show. Manhatten I love, but you can keep Times Square. Disney land in drag, huge waste of electricity. Good gravy what are you people thinking?

We have a daughter that carries a child. I have been asked to describe the sensation of a baby moving in my womb, the first sensation, a flutter by. I remember carrying a child, but with time gone by. I have also been asked recently, how soon I showed and how big I got. I remembered watching and waiting and wondering and showing and growing and getting used to the new shape with amazement. My women child daughter surfs the net for info and they send her to her mother in the end.

The garden is growing exponentially. Potatoes and squash, eggplant and onion, garlic and chard and much more. A single rust red iris stands on the hog, back lit by the setting sun. The blue bird that frequented the feeder has moved on.

A ruffle of fallen oak leaves look like a bunny from across the lawn.
The cottage is torn down this month. A year plus has gone by since my father’s death. Fitting to have the house torn down right about now. I still morn the events of last year. Tears are in waves.

A new sensation……Virtual Vacationing.

Neen in Viareggio, paper maché-ing cow head puppets, cooking, listening to language and observing a group of “spoiled” U of M students for his ethnography. Neen in the northern Italian mountains, Neen driving to Nice and taking the train to Milano to be with the Moo and Stefano. Neen and Moo, take a long train to Venezia, very humid and stunning. Stefano meets them there. Their hotel has no air, the prego negotiates air. They walk and  boat to be one with the canals. Another week goes by, language and immersion.  They all travel to Roma for another wedding, see family, finally the pappa can feel his baby kick. Back to Milano, a new job, a baby moving in the womb. The Bon gets to feel his nephew move. A third week of pizza with tuna and black olives, running and italian lessons.

Back home in Mitten land, it continues to rain, spreading the love in the garden. The garlic is almost. The beans are blooming, the spinach leaves are bigger than my hands. Peas are profuse. Potatoes just bloom and bloom. Chard, and mustard greens, kale and collard. Lilies, and california poppies.

Pop builds scaffolding for painting the peak. I worry about him up there.

I knit and worry about things, like growing old and not enough time. I am going around and around on a pinwheel blanket. Red for my Moo and her babe. A sweater for me. The need to spin wool is a push me pull you of desire.

I worry about my mom.

I would like a spinning wheel.