What I Look At Every Day

Here's the windowsill over the kitchen sink. You can see it's raining. It's been raining. It will continue to rain. Distracting us from the rain, from left to right: a brightly colored clay basket made by my granddaughter many years ago; a painted rock; a nail file to clean my nails after gardening; a clay rooster bowl from Mexico that has a toxic glaze so is not suitable for guacamole but works nicely as a catch-all; a delicate bird skull from Bodega Bay; sweet flamingo salt and pepper shakers from my son, a long time ago; vase of narcissus and freesia, scents that are strong enough to stop you in your tracks whenever you get near the sink; the famous cup that my friend ordered all the way from the UK (alas, after a long story it arrived broken, but mended up nicely); a square off-kilter glass vase from SF MOMA--they have them on the tables in their restaurant, but don't worry, they also sell them in the gift shop; blown glass pumpkin, another gift from my son; ceramic frog that I've known since I was a little girl when he sat in the window well over my father's basement workbench--he has a mended foot; pink pitcher from a yard sale; and, a very tiny, only partially visible, grey ceramic horse that lived on my aunt's corner shelf for years--I think these little figures came in boxes of teabags and she had quite a collection. 

So that's the inventory. My collage mojo just isnt working today. I spent some time trying to clean up my sewing/art room, and I actually have two small visible flat surfaces now. Shortly after that my back spazzed out enough to take my breath away; been doing floor exercises, icing, heating, massaging, and having a Manhattan.