December 20, 2020

Blue jay, crow, mourning dove, hairy woodpecker. 

Early evening, listening to Andrew Magill play the violin at All Souls over the airwaves. The mic picks up the ringing of the bells in the tower at the hour and half hour. Andrew looks great, square and rangy, but maybe more than one musician might have filled out the hour more fully.

Ruined a batch of spice cookies. Had the recipe (which was at fault) from Amy Vanderbilt’s cookbook, which got me through grad school and adult life. This is the first time she let me down. Noticed the little tag at front, “drawings by Andrew Warhol.” In 1960 he was drawing cakes and kitchen apparatus.  

Asked a lady in Ingles where the cookie sprinkles were. Neither of us knew. But a few minutes later she returned and told me, having gone in search of them on my behalf.

I’m not good at recognizing people behind their masks, and they almost always have to speak first, even tell me who they are.

Woke up determined to do whatever I need to do to paint again. Bought a table to put my painting stuff on beside the easel. Thank God Cheap Joe’s was not open, for I failed to buy the water soluble oil paints that seemed the solution to my fumes problem. By noon the whole idea seemed exhausting.