Saturday, September 26, 2009

Slow posting again

The Excuses for No New Pix:

1. The Business Trip -- Two and one-half full days in San Mateo; productive, but not of art.
2. The Plumbing Excitement -- Just before The Business Trip, my bare feet told me our carpeting was wet. Fortunately, the good new plumbers we found helped quickly, but still.
3. The Press of Commerce -- Work work work work work.
4. The Academic Path -- Writing, researching and getting prepped for presentations at TEMA and Kalamazoo (woo-hoo!!!)
5. The Italian lessons -- troppo studio.
6. And so, no time out for wandering.


Dale said...

ts'okay. We can wait.


am said...

I miss your photos and poetry selections when you are busy, and I like this medieval painting very much. I like just knowing that you are here or somewhere (-:

Kind wishes!

lowenkopf said...

Just beyond San Mateo, in Woodside, I have a writing workshop every other month. It's the land of the Prius and the rolling hills. No bbq in mitigation.

Granny J said...

Excuses, excuses, excuses :)

Lori Witzel said...

Hey all y'all -- before I get into brunch with The Mur and Italian homework...

Dale: Grazie.

am: :-) I am probably more likely somewhere than here...but I should check to see.

Shelly: Yes indeedy, I think the Priuii are spawning somewhere in Muir Woods. There's no other reason for seeing such piles of them loose.

Granny J: *snork*

am said...

Speaking of San Mateo, my parents moved there from San Francisco when I was their week-old firstborn. My first memories are of San Mateo are in an apartment on Hillsdale Boulevard. That was in the early 1950's. A different place and time.

I'm still fond of the San Mateo County coast. Parts of that haven't changed much. The ocean is magnificent there.

lowenkopf said...

Quell giorno piu, non vi leggiamo avanti...

Lori Witzel said...

Pensa, lettor, se io mi sconfortai
nel suon de le parole maladette,
ché non credetti ritornarci mai.

I'll be back...but it's been busy, and rainy. Com'è triste ...

Anonymous said...

"Quelli ch'anticamente poetaro
l'età de l'oro e suo stato felice,
forse in Parnaso esto loco sognaro.
Qui fu innocente l'umana radice;
qui primavera sempre e ogne frutto,
nettare é questo di che ciascun dice."

XXVIII, 139-144