• One time, Bacon and I were sight seeing in one of Santa Fe’s Canyon Road art galleries. The exhibit focused on an artist, who painted abstracts. The art looked like spilled ink on corregated cardboard. As the crowd oohed and awed around us, we clamped our mouths shut, living by my mother’s axiom, “If you can’t say anything nice . . .” One patron stood transfixed in front of a box canvas, enthusing about the painting’s existentialist message to humanity.
We were outside and down the sidewalk before Bacon asked, “What’d you think?”
“Spilled ink on a Uhaul box.”
“Good, I thought I was losing it.”
When I read about the Republican candidate for Vice-President, I thought of this. The emperor has no clothes.
• Bacon and I moved Coco into her own bedroom. She’s shared a room with Cherry since they were two and four. Every day for the past week, Coco has put herself to sleep in my bed because she couldn’t quit talking to Cherry. Yesterday, Bacon and I decided, enough was enough. We cleaned out the playroom, and set up her bed. It was a harder move for me than anyone else. I liked to go in at night and see my babies sleeping in the same room. They’re getting so big.
• My friend, David Thweatt, made the New York Times this week. You can read about him here. Talk about empowering teachers, Bacon said, “I want to work for a Superintendent like that. He should run for Governor.” Just goes to show, you can take the debate coach out of the city, but you can’t take the controversy out of the debate coach.
• In the credit union drive-through, a middle-aged man sat sobbing in his car. He drove a Mazda filled with household items–a kitchen table, a footlocker, a small bookshelf still holding paperbacks. He was in the lane next to me leaning against his driver’s side door. I wondered why the teller didn’t speak to him until I realized his lane was closed. He wasn’t banking–just occupying space. I wanted to help, but what could I do? I was alone, depositing cash. I didn’t want to go in and get a security guard, who might overreact and make a bad situation worse. So, I said a prayer for the guy and moved on. I haven’t quit thinking about him.
CRISPLY SPOKEN 