November 2011 Archives


Pulled from yesterday's bowlful.

Which put me in mind of this:

'Bertrand Russell: One of the advantages of living in Great Court, Trinity, I seem to recall, was the fact that one could pop across at any time of the day or night and trap the then young G.E. Moore into a logical falsehood by means of a cunning semantic subterfuge. I recall one occasion with particular vividness. I had popped across and had knocked upon his door. "Come in", he said. I decided to wait awhile in order to test the validity of his proposition. "Come in", he said once again. "Very well", I replied, "if that is in fact truly what you wish". 

I opened the door accordingly and went in, and there was Moore seated by the fire with a basket upon his knees. "Moore", I said, "do you have any apples in that basket?" "No", he replied, and smiled seraphically, as was his wont. I decided to try a different logical tack. "Moore", I said, "do you then have some apples in that basket?" "No", he replied, leaving me in a logical cleft stick from which I had but one way out. "Moore", I said, "do you then have apples in that basket?" "Yes", he replied. And from that day forth, we remained the very closest of friends.' 

From Jonathan Miller, 'Portrait from Memory', on the LP Beyond the Fringe (1962) 

Cozy slippers wrap my feet in warmth. Mis-dated the drawing. Relaxed, sleepy, and letting go of details.

From the dinner table. I love the shape of this fruit with its shadows.

More like thread than yarn, really. A stainless steel and wool blend from Habu Textiles

A colored pencil, drawn in black and white and gray.

In the bowl on the dining room table.  

Quiet moment after a day of errands and preparation for tomorrow's celebration.

A brief pause before getting back to preparations for the holiday. House full of family and guests tonight.

My right hand and the edge of my sketchbook.

...or at least, what was left in the glass at the end of the evening.

I love the way a single lemon can scent an entire room. And the color is so cheerful as we enter the darkest time of year.

Sweet and green.

Water glass - one of a couple made by younger son in his glassblowing class.

One of them opens the cupboard in my lab.

From the grocery store. Not at all local. Not bad, though.

Home again. Rain falls through branches onto the leaves on the ground outside. Car on a wet street. A late train at the edge of the neighborhood. Inside, the clock ticks, some part of the house settles against another.

Dusk at the Portland airport. Was supposed to leave at noon, but such is the nature of travel. The conference was wonderful, and I have lots of ideas and a couple of good books to keep me company.

One clementine for a snack en route tomorrow.

Greenery on a table in the hotel lobby. (I'm in Portland, Oregon, for most of the weekend, attending the K-12 Teachers workshop at the Grace Hopper Celebration of Women and Computing.)

Awaiting the next project.



Handmade tall coffee cup, no handle.

Picked up a couple of leaves on the way home. 

Another piece of clementine peel.

French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana.

Visiting New Orleans this weekend, and had a moment between work appointments to draw the bend in the Mississippi River outside the hotel window.

(Sealed for your protection...)

One of the blotchy light green local ones with fantastic flavor.

This clothes pin looks delighted to be flying through the air.

Today is day 2500 of drawing or painting a picture in my sketchbook. I'm too sleepy to reflect on that at the moment - but will think more about it tomorrow.



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