Delights: July 17 to July 23

July 17: Getting a document notarized today proved to be a complicated affair. Eventually, after a futile scramble yesterday, I found a notary at a UPS store. I knew I’d need two witnesses, and I assumed other UPS employees would stand in. Unfortunately for me, the notary/UPS guy was flying solo today, so I needed to either drive all the way home and persuade two neighbors to spend an unpleasant hour this way or recruit strangers.

I chose the latter route. The first six people I approached looked at me with a mixture of incredulity and suspicion. Naturally, they said no. Then a man and woman my age walked in. I approached them, waggling the document, and made my request. They hesitated too; then, spying the woman’s Chicago Cubs tee shirt, I pumped my fist and said “Go, Cubs!” (I will pander when necessary.)

The couple smiled, which I accepted as an invitation to explain what the document was and what I needed from them. It turns out they fully understood the education-related document they’d be witnessing and, in fact, were in town to help one of their young adult daughters move into her new apartment.

They also turned out to be Red Sox fans. (The woman wore the Cubs tee shirt because she doesn’t mind getting it dirty.) We exchanged smiles about the Tartan Army’s conquest of Boston and wished each other — and our youngsters — well.

Maybe if I have an hour to spare next week, I’ll hang out at the UPS store and offer my “witness” services. Someone is bound to be as grateful I am.

July 18: Kevin and I tried to recall the name of a secondary character on a TV show we enjoy. Maybe we forgot it. “Or maybe she changed her name,” Kevin suggested. “Sure! That must be it” I said. “After all, I have a mind like a steel drum.”

Kevin doubled over, laughing so hard that I couldn’t help but join in. “It’s not a steel drum,” Kevin gasped. 

Huh? (I’m picturing a tight canister: nothing gets out!) “It’s — it’s —  a steel TRAP!”

OK! I’ve got it and I won’t forget. After all, I have a mind like steel wool. 

Bonus: Before becoming an artist in 1967, Fred Eversley was a senior aerospace engineer for NASA. The museum label for this piece, which was my first encounter with Eversley’s work, tells us:  “Eversley maintains that his work has more to do with black holes than with ‘being Black.’ His works, visionary for how they fuse art with optical physics, opened new dimensions in Minimalist sculpture.” I was delighted to see another of Eversley’s pieces at the Museum of Modern Art in June.

July 19: The heavy rain yesterday pushed wildfire smoke out to the ocean and nudged our humidity down a smidge. It also sent thousands of crepe myrtle petals fluttering to streets and sidewalks around town. Carpets of fuchsia ringed trees and laid pathways in garden beds. Laughing at the rain, the petals — like  confetti from a parade —  scattered joy underfoot. 

The magic eluded my camera. Maybe that’s a good thing, because my imagination has probably conjured a better, raspberry-tinted, memory.

July 20: Jeremiah, my typewriter-toting, Mont Blanc-free writer, spent last week at the Southampton Writers Conference. He devoted part of the time sharpening his own writing and the rest of the time assisting poet Billy Collins, who served as U.S. Poet Laureate from 2001 to 2003. (Jeremiah quipped, “I’m one of the few people in the country who has Billy Collins’ email address.”) 

I recently bought a copy of Billy Collins’ 2024 collection of poems, Water, Water. I excitedly told Jeremiah that the book was facing outward — conspicuously — on the bookstore’s shelf. Jeremiah helped me understand: “Mom, Billy Collins’ books always face outward on bookstore shelves.” Then he offered to get it autographed for me. 

So, unlike Jeremiah, I’ve spent the week not reading the poetry of Billy Collins. But I’ve taken more than a few peeks at the photo Jeremiah sent me as a consolation prize. 

Bonus:  I very much appreciated this quote by Billy Collins on the Poetry Foundation website: “I think my work has to do with a sense that we are attempting, all the time, to create a logical, rational path through the day. To the left and right there are an amazing set of distractions that we usually can’t afford to follow. But the poet is willing to stop anywhere.” Sounds like us, Dear Readers.

July 21: My sister Dianne walked into the restaurant + distillery carrying a half-empty bottle of bourbon. (I walked in with my appetite.) She loved the flavor, she said, but she had a question about condensation inside the bottle. 

Would we like to chat with the distiller? Yes. Would we like a tour of the distillery? Yes! Would we like samples of their Jamaican rum and botanical gin? Need you ask?

Dianne came home with answers to her questions and I came home with a bottle of gin. We also learned that the distillery’s building had begun life as a car dealership and that its name — Forgotten 50 — derives from the road: part of the original U.S. Route 50, which still stretches from Ocean City, Maryland, to Sacramento, California. The distillery’s label features an old-style wood-paneled station wagon. And in true California (and Maryland) fashion, the station wagon has a surfboard on top. 

July 23: Yesterday morning, I rose with the sun and threw myself into a desperately needed patio clean-up operation. The constant rain paused long enough for me to sweep the patio, trim border plants and pull weeds from compliant soil. Almost done. Then the rain resumed. Although I wore no hat (why?), I kept going. 

Have you ever seen people working outside — or baseball players? — moving about in the summer rain as though the day is desert-dry? I get it. After some initial fussing, I stayed out there far longer than I’d planned.

This morning, as I type this, the patio is clean, the garden is tidy, the breeze is gentle and the clouds seem more wispy than wet. Our pond fountain — another casualty of all that rain — burbled happily.

Of course, if the rain starts again, I’m running for the door. 

Readers, to receive notifications by email each time I make a post, just scroll all the way down this page (next to the “word cloud”), look to the left and click on the black button that says “Join Me!” And if you think a friend might enjoy these, please share the Delight!

If you’d like to browse my past delights, please consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands. Or learn a bit more about my Blog by visiting my Welcome page. You’ll also see links to four essays that were published in print magazines. I’m glad you’re here!