I always look at the funerals when I pass St. Anne’s. Often they have a very good feeling of people coming together, despite the occasion. I actually attended a mariachi funeral mass there once. A few days ago, saw:
All in black
with bright green hair
at the funeral
Last night I dreamed I was writing a BEAUTIFUL poem. I made sure to memorize it. Imagine my horror when I woke up and could recite an atrocious line: “the house flew through the air on little wings of yellow stucco!” I mean, really. I should have stayed asleep.
But being awake is good, because there is soup. Yesterday Rich and I went to Souper Bowl at the convention center, fundraiser for the Food Depot. You eat numerous (too many) little cups of soup. I got seduced into voting for a clam chowder a thousand miles from the sea because, well, I love it and each tiny portion had a real open clam on top.
But also voted for–and I’m not making this up–a white chocolate cream soup. Isn’t this sort of cheating? Who wouldn’t like this soup?