The last three bananas are gasping, practically on life support, are freckled to the point of being brown all over . . . I had to do something! And so I did.
Have you ever tried to draw a banana from a photograph? I sat in bed listening to the rain last night, well after lights out. Thinking, "There's got to be a better way . . . " I went downstairs and took a picture of these things. I'd said I'd make banana pudding, but this new strain just leaves me uninspired. I
hate dislike fruit flies immensely! I wash the bananas in hot soapy water before I'll eat one or even cook with them. JC says I'm turning into Howard Hughes but I don't care.
The new bananas even have a different smell. I can't stand it. I cannot eat the slices in the pudding, but the pudding and wafers are enough for me. They're the best parts, aside from the flavors, and while I like the idea of being a purist, I'd probably consider using banana flavoring . . . Okay, maybe not. I don't love banana pudding. And that nasty Betty Crocker ginger bread almost made me gag. It tastes of watered down spices and modified flour. JC and I secretly hope it'll disappear on its own, or maybe it'll grow fruit flies, and have to be thrown out.
But bananas make for good mail. This is the only thing I wrote last night. All the rain striking the roof and windows was too distracting, and I love rain, but I confess, again, to opening the drapes, pulling up the blinds, and peering into the darkness around 3 A.M.. One of the loveliest sights in a storm is my willow dancing like a caged go-go dancer. Ah! Even better: The dancing willow is so like Tina Turner dancing to "Proud Mary." Every time I watched Tina whippin' it, I hardly blinked--in case I'd miss seeing that wig go ballistic. The wig never flew. Tina retired. Had it happened? The sight would have been on a par with the recent eclipse. Tina! Tina! Tina!
Markers leak in this kind of weather. But you know that, right? Fountain and ball point pens misbehave too. Pencils never falter. Paper does. It's sensitive to moisture. Drawing out the storm might be better, so perhaps hand-drawn postcards might be the way to go. I scraped away most of the rust, oiled my drawing joints, and realized "the brain remembers," as I watched the banana take shape. I need new Copics, especially yellows. *sigh* But, practice still makes perfect, but do I have to like bananas to draw a good one? *grin*
Thunder's rolling overhead. A clear sign that I should give this up and climb into bed . . .
Thanks for your good thoughts.