A lot of this post has to do with a link.

I read the following article several days ago. It's quite fascinating, provocative especially for me who lives in a home drowning in every imaginable color.

One question that made my brain sore was: Can we see something if we have no word for it?

Much has been studied and researched regarding this concept. Rather than giving a synopsis of the article, I suggest you read it - it's fascinating.

I especially was taken by the scientist who reared his daughter by avoiding any reference to the color of the sky. One day he asked her. She look up and saw no color. She had no reference.

Since reading the article, I've pondered all that might be in my very midst, but goes unseen. Surely there must be things and colors... but because I haven't a word for them, they remain unseen?

I'm not talking about angels and stuff. We have those words.

What else am I not seeing?

I really look forward to your comments here.


The Color Blue.




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Aunt Kim the first night we were all together the weekend of the Bridal Shower honoring Olivia. Kim is a Bonus Sister if there ever was one! I adore her.







Kim is a remarkable artist with too many talents to list here. She's amazing! And she's agreed to design the invitations for the Rehearsal Dinner that her brother and I will host the eve of Olivia and David's wedding. I'm thrilled!

This *license plate* arrived in the mail a couple of days ago. Isn't it fabulous! Thank you *Little Kimmie* (She was 12 years old when I married her brother.)


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Sadness descends at the most unexpected moments. I don't like being sad. It hasn't been my nature. I think it might be symptomatic of my illness. I fight it. And don't win as often as I'd like. Hence my quiet days.

Today I was streaming a show called House of Cards starring Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright. There was a scene when Spacey, President of the US, is touring the war monuments in Washington.

I started to weep because he focused on FDR's monument, which is designed to accommodate disabled people. I visited that site with David quite a few years ago. I was in a wheelchair throughout most my visit. (David wheeled me all over Washington, DC.) FDR's monument was our favorite. Um, no, Korean War Memorial - so powerful. Um, no The Vietnam War memorial...





I don't think people realize I've dealt with disabilities for many years.






Me with David's Teach for America friends


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This is important. My favorite book is a slender one I discovered about 35 years ago when I was living in Mission Hills, KS. Anyone who reads this book joins the ranks of considering it a favorite.

It's written by Carmen Bernos De Gasztold, translated by Rumer Godden. I've gifted many, many people a copy of this book - some of them, even paperbacks, are now incredibly valuable.

I must confess that I adore every poem. Every single one. And I beg you to acquire a copy of this book. It's transformative. Not all are *religious* like the one I share now.

One of my many favorites is:

The Oyster

Moist, glaucous,
in my mother-of-pearl house,
its door tightly shut
against intruders.
I drink in a dream from the sea:
Oh, let an iridescent pearl -
a milky dawn,
a faerie sheen -
find its tints in the heart of my life.
Then if, slowly,
day by day,
this mysterious seed
grows more perfect,
for my joy
and Your glory,
Lord,
nothing else will matter.
If it must be, I shall die
to let it reach its fullest splendor,
shining - only for You,
Lord-
at the bottom of the sea.

Amen.


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I have a Guardian Angel moving into the apartment. I'll write more about it another day. Thrilled!


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Thanks for stopping by. Always appreciated.