On Sunday morning, I sweated over a passage in my fledgling manuscript, trying to capture the cadence of my father’s hellfire-and-damnation, call-and-response sermons. Glory be, and can I get a witness: that was very hard work!
What better reward, then, than a matinee performance of WICKED? Okay, so I bought tickets months ago. We’ll call the timing serendipitous.
Those wildfires in Orange County? Fortunately, they didn’t come close to my house. But it hit 96 degrees here yesterday; by late afternoon, it was hot as Hades! I’m not complaining, though: the warm sun’s working its seductive magic on all the budding plants in my yard. Here, unfolding blooms from my champaca tree and banana shrub, tropical relatives of the magnolia. They aren’t especially beautiful, but wow, they smell heavenly! (Champaca flowers have a sweet fragrance, like Hawaiian plumeria; banana shrub blossoms smell like — you guessed it — bananas. Or maybe Juicy Fruit gum.)
I’m headed to Portland this week, to do more research for my memoir project. I’ll also be taking some side trips — the Oregon Coast, a few Willamette Valley wineries, and Hall Street Grill in Beaverton, where I’ll meet three lovely LJ friends for lunch. Boy, do I feel blessed!