Places I Would Rather Be

The last two days have been spent trying to decide where to go, while my little patio is overrun with house painters.  I've hung out at the public library, looking out on the apricot orchard; at the Stanford golf course, under a sprawling oak, with Maya hot chocolate and notebooks; in the art store, picking out textured rice paper and a chocolate brown brush pen; driving through campus tempted by art museum and café and the sun-dappled arcades of the quad; and at a shaded sidewalk table at the Anatolian Kitchen, meeting with a friend over spiced lamb kebabs and a confetti salad bright with purple cabbage and red radish.  I've been discombobulated and am ready to settle, though maybe all of these should be in my routine, like bits of colored glass in a mosaic—the ancient millefiori.




image:  Joaquín Mir Trinxet, aka Joaquín Mir (Spanish Catalan, 1873–1940): Orange Trees in Majorca (Paisaje Mallorquín con Naranjos), I Require Art