and I get to go to Sheboygan for the weekend with Lala! I need this break. I don't care if the weather turns to carp I'm happy to be going. We'll walk and write and talk and write, I'll knit and talk and write. Maybe I'll make poems, maybe I'll make a sweater, I don't care. It's going to be lovely to be out of my rut, footloose and fancy free. Yippee! (can you tell I'm excited?)
March 15--Iran, Parthian, Rhyton Terminating in the Forepart of a Wild Cat. It was gorgeous but it was also more than a little creepy. Jane had seen a lot of hunting horns in her days working with the collections in the World Cultures exhibit at the museum. Most of them were made of horn or bone, probably from the same animal the hunter wanted to kill, but this Iranian silver one was the strangest. Instead of some sort of whistle mouthpiece to blow into this one had a snarling cat for the user to blow into. She couldn't imagine placing her pursed lips over the feral cat's face to sound the horn. It seemed such an intimate thing. She blushed to imagine it. She stood with it in her cotton-gloved hands and felt her blood race at the thought of feeling the cool of the ancient silver between her lips. What had come over her, she thought as she lifted it to her mouth.
Actually, a rhyton is a drinking cup but I liked the idea that you blew into it rather than drink out of it. It was way creepier my way than the real way, don't you think?
--Barbara
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