Aunt B reads my blogs every day. I love her for that. I find myself being more mindful that what I write before the writing is amusing or informative. So thanks, Aunt B, for helping me be better every day. She commented on yesterday's post about the fish she sees from her dock on the intracoastal in North Carolina and said that they'd seen a 4-foot shark off their dock. I don't think that they're right by the coast, I think that there's some distance of waterway between them and the big, wide, shark-y ocean, but isn't that cool? I'm sure they'll be a bit more careful when they're swimming out there but I'd love to be sitting on her, or my, dock and see a shark swim by. As a scuba diver I've learned that there aren't that many sharks in the ocean, that you don't have to part a carpet of them to jump in and then they slam back together over your head. In fact, I'd probably done 50 ocean dives before I ever saw one and it was a Nurse Shark (I met a diver once who thought they were called "Nerf" sharks, and no, she wasn't blond) but I was way more excited than scared. Since then we've seen sharks, lots of them, in Grand Cayman and when we dove in Palau we saw big ones on every dive. We even saw one coil up and eat something on one dive in Palau. That was crazy awesome but our dive guide dragged us away just in case the shark wanted a nip of tourist for dessert. I could go back to Palau any day except for the jet lag, I thought I'd die of the jet lag. And there was just a downy woodpecker trying to peck my vinyl window frame. Go peck on the fence, bird!
June 14--Peter Paul Rubens, Bust of Pseudo-Seneca. Piet grew up believing that there was a wire connecting his eyes with his right hand. How else could he explain his ability to draw what he saw? From the time he was small he could look at a person or a scene and it would appear on his paper. Not just a replica either, he had the ability, the gift to draw the personality there too. His family was poor. Most of the time there was no money for paper so he drew on stones or plaster walls with pieces of charred wood from the fire. When Piet was nine, the Italian professor up the street heard about his ability to draw and offered his father a place for the boy to help him with a project. Suddenly Piet had his own bed, enough to eat, and scraps of paper for his very own to draw on once the day's work was complete.
Once again I have dawdled too long doing crossword puzzles, talking with Durwood, cutting rhubarb for Bob, and posting this that I've got to take a speed shower and beat it out of here. Late, dudes and dudettes.