Last guest entry by Carrie, in Laurie's absence.

My mother always said I was lucky. She used to beg me to buy lottery tickets. And she was right, I am lucky - I have many friends. It’s a fortune I wish on everyone.

My friends are Artists, Musicians, Historians, Teachers, Engineers, Housewives, Lawyers, and, yes Laurie, Writers. They live all over the globe. Luck and friends coincided in 2001 when I moved to Venice for work.

Venice is not an easy city in which to live. Most of the year it’s overrun with tourists. But there are moments, even during tourist season, when it’s all worthwhile – the hustle, the jostling to get on the vaporetto, the heat and humidity, the noisy brash and ignorant visitors, the coldness of a shopkeeper who turns to Venetian to shut out the non-native Italian speaker.

Those moments are personified by those who have adopted the city and call it home. They open their hearth to friends, grow lemons on their balcony, write novels, make everyone sing for their supper and direct plays that appeal to a rather inside audience when performed. And I am the luckiest person in the world - I can call these people my friends.

Posted by Laurie Graham at 01:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

*the last words of Turner.

I was bookbinding this weekend, a rather repetitious and monotonous task, when my mind wandered to the light coming in the window and I began to think of light. This musing was helped, of course, by the most helpful of seasons; Autum.

The late afternoons are spectacular. Lazy and darkening slowly, as the light lingers long past the sun's departure. It's warm, the birds are chirping, I'd call it "Indian Summer" but I've been told we have no such thing in California. Indian Summer implies a warm spell after the first frost. Our winters may not include a frost at all, even here in Zone 14 (of the New Western Garden Book Zone designation).

Trees and bushes are blazing with color - made more obvious by the large amount of evergreen Oaks, Bay Laurels and Digger Pines. The vineyards, which cover a large part of Sonoma County, are beautiful, changing colors daily. That the Crush is still on amazes me but it is all about the sugar content of the grapes they tell me, not the season. My drive to work each morning is a cacophony of color and sound. Birds are migrating and talking, quite loudly, through the process, trees are turning, and even the dogs are content in these last lazy warm days. Stray cats are lounging in woodpiles and the dry mud puddles that edge the roads, moving slower than usual.

It's a Northern California Autumn, where our golden brown hills set a backdrop to the change of light. A poet, with gifts far beyond my own, said it most clearly: "There's no gold in California - and the Hills turn brown in the Summertime."*
- Carrie
*Kate Wolf

Posted by Laurie Graham at 03:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Filed by Carrie while Laurie enjoys herself on the Other Shore.

Laurie is right; I am absurdly in love with the Golden State. It’s not just because I am a native of the place. It’s the simple things about it. Like that it’s October and I am writing this next to an open window. Or that the garden continues to provide daily and it's artichoke season. Or that I can take walks on the beach at anytime of year. And my car never needs snow tires.

But it’s not just California – it’s the entire western part of the country. I love Nevada and New Mexico and Utah. I’m crazy about Wyoming. It thrills me that we have cowboy poets and black cowboy parades. I am particularly fond of long drives on lonely backroads going perhaps to the coast, the desert, the mountains, through lava flows, across the playa of an ancient sea bed or winding up and over granite peaks. The views are beautiful but there are also other thrills - the scent of sage in the high chaparral, the particular damp aroma of a redwood grove, the smell of a forest of Jeffrey Pines, the strong odor of tar as one nears Santa Barbara and the whiff of Eau d’Sonoma County - skunk on the night air.

I could wax on; indeed I am doing just that. But I am happy to be home after 7 years away, enjoying, once again, life on the Left Coast. I think I’ll stay awhile.

Posted by Laurie Graham at 02:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

At the Post Office this morning I was glad to take cover under the smokescreen of a foreign language. The Customs form for the package I was collecting made for interesting reading. I pair duck feet (Gents, Small). I pair Evil Pointy Eartips (Caucasian, Unisex). 3-piece Latex and yellow nylon chicken costume (Generous Cut). I sure was glad I'd had no occasion to order the Sexy Nun outfit.
I've told Mr Fitzpatrick, when his LL Bean order arrives he can go collect it himself. I have a feeling I'm being talked about down there.
And so the amateur dramatics pace quickens. We have one actor whose hospital appointment conflicts with a major rehearsal. We have another who wants to change roles because she doesn't think she gets enough good lines. And now we have a director who feels this is a good moment to leave the country, leave the time zone, leave the computer turned OFF. Two weeks of getting balled out by desk clerks, restaurant managers and other everyday New York City chop-breakers will make me more than ready to come home and face the (out of tune) music.
What am I going to do? I'll tell you. I'm going to eat All-Day breakfasts. I'm going to get my dry cleaning turned around in 24 hours, my sleeves shortened, my shoes shined. And I'm going to strip Filene's Basement like a plague of locusts. Ain't no suitcase big enough...
In my absence the blog will be manned by my buddie Carrie Galbraith, writer, book artist, travel companion non pareil, and California's most loyal publicist. Carrie is one of the few reasons I can think of ever to revisit the Politically Correct People's Republik. She's sure to have something interesting to say.

Posted by Laurie Graham at 08:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)