with a big side helping of inspiration.
Followed a link to a performance by Russian ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, then age 61 in 1986 of the Dying Swan.
But then, over in the sidebar of other related videos, there was the promise of her dancing a modern composition, to Ravel’s Bolero. Yes please.
Thank you.
Yellow warning light came on the dash. On FIATs you only see WHAT that means when you turn the car on, then it appears briefly as a scrolling message. So first chance, I turned the car off and back on and it says “License Plate Lamps are out” or something similar. PS you only see this message IF the headlights are on. Lights off, no warning light or message.
So I figure I can pick up the bulb(s) and DIY. I get out the manual. You might remember I had to do some finagling to get a manual… Anyway, the manual lists all the replacement part numbers for the headlights, interior lights etc but for License Plate it just says “LED”.
When I look at that thing called the internet and oh, oh, it says that for early 2012 FIATs the License Plate Bulbs aren’t really replaceable. I call the dealer. They say oh no, we have those, they’re not expensive… But can I replace it myself? Oh yes. Are you sure? (hate it when people ask ME that question) Oh yes.
Stop by the dealer tonight. The fellow at the parts counter has to look and look and then he goes off to try and find the bulbs. He apologizes because inventory says they have ten but he can’t find them. Meanwhile I find that they don’t have a FIAT on display nearby because well because so I can’t look to see if it looks like mine.
Stop at a NAPA and they can’t find any listing for the part either and they thought it was weird.
I come home, take off the license plate and get one of the bulb housings off and take a couple pictures and voila – it seems I have a non-DYI FIAT.
I made pizza today (after having started the biga last night). I have had such a strong yen for pizza and am continually disappointed by pizza had elsewhere. You can probably do a search for pizza over there on the right and find earlier times with frequently made pizza. This is like a returning to the fold: it’s been quite awhile and while I certainly can follow the dough recipe, much of what makes it really really good is, like so many things, practice. Also it was cold last night and cool and damp today which didn’t help the rising of it.
Practice makes the dough wet enough and slack enough and rested enough to handle easily.
Having said all that, both pizzas were delicious. One was cheese with a few veggies and the other was pepperoni. Yessireebob it was delicious. How I know I did pretty good is that the bottom has golden spots on it and the rest of it is chewy and tasty. Despite restraint, I put a bit too much toppings on it. (and a huge pot of sauce was made for the quarter or half cup that I used LOL)
Now I have to put away the sauce I made and all the other stuff and do the few left over dishes. Then I will rest my happy tum on my laurels and find something else to do for the rest of the night.
A poem…begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Letter to Louis Untermeyer (1 January 1916).
and then
Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes all the pressure off the second. My mouth is sealed for the duration of my stay here. I’m not even going to write letters around to explain to collectors my not having had any Christmas card this year. I’m not going to explain anything personal any more.
Letter to Sydney Cox (3 January 1937), quoted in Robert Frost : The Trial By Existence (1960) by Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant, p. 351, and Robert Frost and Sidney Cox: Forty Years of Friendship (1981) by William Richard Evans, p. 223.
and then, the end of The Sound of Trees
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.
“The Sound of Trees” (1920)
As to marriage or celibacy, let a man take which course he will–he will be sure to repent it.
