So now I'm doing it again, for this week. I like it. I like seeing the words in my own handwriting, and this way I take his little nuggets for better living with me throughout the week.
I write them on pieces of paper that are in the scrap paper basket, but which are originally from my "Word Origins 365-Days Calender". You know the kind where you rip off a piece of paper each day? So these pieces of paper are a good size. The word on the back of this random scrap is from June 16th, and it is "Pima".
Pima: Imagine the scenario: a conquistador rides up to an Indian tilling a field in the Arizona desert and asks, politely, Quien es usted? ("Who are you?") The Indian replies, Pim'ach, and, satisfied, the conquistador enters that name on his map. "Pima" it has been since, naming an Arizona county and a kind of cotton, but what the Indian said was, "I don't understand you."
I spent the last half of this past week up in North River, at the home of two friends, a couple from New Hampshire. They needed some walls painted, and we also enjoy each other's company, so it was time well spent. I also learned a few new things about interior wall painting, as the female half of the couple used to be a professional painter. It's always good to acquire new skills! It's also good to spend most of a day just applying vibrant color onto white walls. It's meditative and it's pleasing to the eye.
Now I'm home. I unpacked, then cuddled with my favorite cat, and then went out to the back garden to check on my Cherry Grandes. So many more have ripened! I picked some to bring to the house to ripen them indoors, eating the most ripe on the way. This is why I grew them, after all. To be able to eat tomatoes without worrying about buying more. To eat them to my heart's delight.
There's no theme to this post, nothing that runs through all of it and ties it all together. Except me, of course.
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