“Then she stopped abruptly and asked, grim-faced, if I’d ever had to evade sniper fire. I said, no, unfortunately not. Lickety-split she was off – dashing in a feverish crouch from one boutique doorway to the next, white tennis shoes a blur, all the way down the street to Restoration Hardware and the Baskin-Robbins store. Five or six perplexed Palo Altans stopped to watch as she bobbed zanily in and out, ducking her head, pointing at imaginary gunmen on rooftops and gesticulating wildly at me to follow. No one, clearly, knew who she was, though several of them looked as if they thought they should know who she was.”—LRB · Terry Castle: Desperately Seeking Susan
This afternoon was spent at the Liberty Country Club. I drove Rebecca and myself to the far away greens, where an isolated toilet hutch offers respite for leary golfers. The ladie’s golf group has decided to paint over all the concret-block and aluminum paneling mural-fashion, to beautify this glorious outhouse. I painted flowers for four hours, and stems, and I painted a little green with a little blue flag. Next week is another side. Shrubs, connifers, more little greens with little flags. The lady golfer organizers were present and helping, and were sweet and kind and gracious. They roller-brushed a big blue sky around the building, and submerged the below-horizon in a daunting shade of green, that as it dried turned more gray or brown depending on if I or Rebecca mixed it.