unedited version:
Tuesday, 5-30-06 6:07 PM on Sylvanna P, (Sylvia seems to have suddenly died) Tomorrow is my 60th birthday. Tonight we are riding in the car with ML. We are going to meet some of Keith's cousins. Graham and I are in the back seat and it is hot. I am dressed in my new brown striped blouse that I got with my wedding clothes. I am wearing a brown skirt of Susan's and I think it might be wool. I'm sweating. Profusely.
Ruining my nice clothes.
When I opened Sylvanna, there was a file that I thought was labeled "GOATS," but was in fact labeled "GOALS." When I thought it was labelled Goats, I thoughtit was about my goat novel andwas excited to see what I might have writtens, and was disappointed to see goals instead.
I wanted to immediately write what I would have liked to have read, but it makes no sense to start working on another different novel. I needto finish some of the one I am already working on.
I wanted to work then instead, on The Herpetologist, or After the Party. But all my work on that is located in diverse of ther places. Including some I don't have at all any more, since it was stolen and never came back to me.
If I could just think of some of the puzzles that need to be worked out, I could work on those.
One thing about novels is there is so much stuff that needs to be held in themind and it is so hard to do. Or, you have to have a marvelous filing system.
One problem is to decide who knows about Alicia and what Alcia knows, if anyone. I'm inclined to say at this point that no one knows,but that Crogan is worried and reports his worries to Tony Baloney.
I keep thinking I need to refer back to the manuscript, but of course, the manuscaript is gone. For example, shelly. Is everything I wrote about Shelly gone, or not? What about Beardsley Beardsley? How much is in the version I do have? I need to reread it. Really, I can't do this until I see what I have and what I need to reinvent.
We are nearly at Applebee's anyway. I've been participating in the conversation, anyway.
Sunday, July 16, 2006, 5 PM
I am out walking alone and using Sylvanna Psion for the first time in along time. Both Sylvia and Sylvanna have been down for a while and now at least Sylvanna is working again. The space bar on Sylvanna and most of the Psions is very poorly designed. I have to work very hard and be attentive to make a space between the words and it's annoying and disruptive.
Keith left this morning so I am alonefor the first time in two weeks, and a bit sad to be alone again and stuck here at the Kimbrook house with so much work to do.
I am going to attempt to write a letter to Dr. Carter at Chapel House to express my appreciation for it.
The heat is making the screen dark. I stop andtake a pictureof someroasideflwoers. I'm sweating buckets and amalready thirsty, but didnot think to bring a water botttle as I strolled through the neighborhood. The a's don't print well either.
* * *
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Dear Dr. Carter,
My husband Keith and I are writing to express ourdeep appreciation for Chapel House. We arrived On July 10th, whichwas theonemonth anniversary of our marriage. Because of certain circumstances in ourlives at this time, we havebeen unable to take a honeymoon and havebeen strenuously busy attending to affairs.
It ws truly wonderful to have a spiritual placeofretreat and contemplationwhere it was calmandquietto renew ourselves,body and soul. We made wonderful anddelightful use of the library, loved the artwork, immersed ouselves in thesilence,andgenerally were heled and made whole again.
It was Keith's first visitto Chapel House,andhe wasa little bit nervous about how it would work out,but I talked himinto it. I had been before severaltimes,and found itto be relaxing, healing and full orgrowth and wisdom. And Keith loved it, as I knewhe would.
Ourfirst afternoon there, we took a quiet contemplative wlk on thetrils in thenearby woods, and saw two young deer, quite close. What a thrill. On our second night there, we observed the blossoming of the residentnight-blooming Cereus. An incredible treat and truly aspiritualexperiencesymbolic of the opening of our souls to the delights of silenceand solitude. Each day brought new treats. Weenjoyed the well-prepaared meals andthecompnay of other retreateers at mealtimes. We neverwent into town orleftthe retreatexcpetto stroll on woodland trails. We didn't want to breakthedelightful silenceand contemplativeness.
((Iamsweating so much myeyes are burning andI had to stop and wipe the sweat from my eyes with a hankie))
I made a fewsketches of the lily that our charming hostess Susan hadplaced on the table, of the nightblooming Cereus, and anotherplant in the breezeway, wrote aa fewmeditative jornal pieces and a little story, and sat andmeditated, in additionto reading and wlking. Itwas a wonderful relaxing three nights and fourdays. We were very sad to leave and hope to return again soon, and again,and again.
We wanted to write and let you knowhow happy wewereto comeandhow glad we are that Chapel House exists andoffers refuge and solace. We deeply hope that it will continue.
Sincerely yours,
Keith Taitt and Mary Stebbins Taitt
(enclose pix?)
* * *
I wanted to write this while Iwas walking because now that myretret is over, it'sback to the oldgrand, nose to the grindstone work work workon the house. And I was afraid I'dnever get it written.
I am walking pretty slowly because it's so dang hot.. The sun is blaring and Imust be getting my quota of vitamin D today! I'm so thirsty.
"Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in thenoonday sun." Well,it's not exactly noonday, it's 5:30 PM, but it is HOT. Amazingtomethat there are people out mowing lawns and raking and doing yardwork. Ican barely stagger along. But, trthbe told, there aren't manypeopleout. It'spretty quiet and still.
My skinis slick and shining anddripping withsweat and suddenly, I think of the air-conditioned Grosse Pointe Farms house.and wish I were headed back there instead of to the Kimbrookhouse. Phew.
Everyone in a while, there's the touch of a little breeze and it feels utterly heavenly.
Or I pass under asmall patch ofshadefroma rare tree--they seem rarerthan usual today. Or better yet, a patchofshade and I breeze!
But then,back into the blinding sun.
Aguy goes by on a Harley, revving theengine with megaphone pipesand generally acting anoying,but I think of my little BMW, Raven Fire, and I think how cool it would feel to ride along and let the wind blow on my face and body.
6:03 PM I come in and sit down and drink two large glasses of waterandsweat profusely. Itry to downlod this file with the letter and it won't convert. AK! ;-(
--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary
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