By Mary Jo Bang
Here we are, on top of the utopian arc. The water is shallow. An oil spill shimmers on the surface like a lens catches light and folds it in front of a mirror. If someone stands next to you, they are there, even when outside the picture. Which makes total obscurity relative to luck and such. Unlike the law, architecture lasts. A façade, like an ideal, can be oppressive unless balanced by a balcony on which you can stand and call down to those in the street, Come over here and look up at us. Aren’t we exactly what you wanted to believe in?
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I had a fairly quiet Friday morning doing chores. Then in the afternoon we went out to do some shopping -- Michael's for Mod Podge, Petco for urinary-friendly cat treats, Safeway for food -- and to walk out on the dock, where a nutria was hanging out eating the lily pads and many ducks and geese were enjoying the warm weather. We got home in time for most of the Maryland-Virginia game, which the Terps were losing when we arrived and which they then gloriously won 42-14.
We had a low-key Rosh Hashanah dinner though it did include apples and honey. Then, after the horrible Orioles game, we watched Billions (if only Grigor Andalov would kill Mike Prince, so many problems would be solved), Foundation (if only Lee Pace were not both cruel and insane, he could reprogram his mommy-lover robot), and The Wheel of Time (if only Liandrin were not Evil with a capital E, well, it would be a different series). Some views of the beach and pier at Edmonds:
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