As I was saying

Cerulean, with a touch of Thioindigo violet near the horizon. Too bad my little painting isn't presentable! It needs a "little work." I had a nice time, though. I sat at the edge of Mecox Bay, which touches the ocean in an ever-changing swirl of sand bars, depending on the season and the weather.

I need to paint a little more often. It makes me happy.

Cerulean day

Finally, a day to myself. A small work obligation will take me to East Hampton, but that means I'll be near the art supply store, where I have some lovely gift certificates to spend. I've been wanting a tube of watercolor called "Opera" -- a bright red/carmine concoction that I've dreamed of adding to my palette. And if I hear the whisper of the perfect Number 6 Sable brush, I just might answer.

It's a beautiful day, and I could stop at a beach somewhere (now that Summer is over, we can go to the beach without a pass or fee) and spend a bit of time by the ocean, maybe with a brush and paint and paper. This is the best time of year here, when the exquisite East End light seems to sharpen and clarify everything, and the sun makes the world glow. The greens are softening, and the grasses are taking on a purple hue that means their season is ending. The dome of the sky is right-out-of-the-tube cerulean (its grainy texture is perfect for capturing the sky on these days).

My desk is covered in papers, there's laundry to do, and I really have been wanting to organize some files. They can wait.

One evening's occupation

This is the baby panda at the Washington National Zoo. You can't have him, because he's mine, but I'll share a picture. I watch him on the PandaCam. Once you start it's hard to stop. I think I might have to visit him when I'm down that way.

This is my first Dulaan hat. Three hours flat (er, in the round, actually). One strand Peruvian Highland Wool, one strand Peruvian Alpaca, size 13 needles. Easy-peasy, double-layered and everything!

It's official: I made it through the summer.

Still not knitting

I can't. I'm too tired and the week has been too much for me. Tomorrow is Labor Day, though, and the exodus will begin in the early afternoon. The Summer People will have one last glimpse of the ocean, buy one last book, and then they'll turn towards home, to New York City or New Jersey, or even somewhere else on Long Island. They have had a good summer, I hope, and they didn't get washed away by a hurricane.

I can't think or write as clearly as Catherine, so I'll just tell you to go read her blog. Today's New York Times has two powerful op-ed pieces by Richard Ford and Anne Rice. Come to think of it, today's Times op-ed pages are worth a good, long look anyway, because there's a lot of truth being told. I can't be a political blogger; I can't shape my thoughts into words as well as I would like. I witness, though. I pay attention. I am present. This stuff matters to me, and I am grateful to all those who can write with eloquence and power.

I want there to be good news, so I've an idea to share something nice and normal and mundane:

• Clara sent out the roommate assignments for the Retreat, so it's really real now. I'll do a happy dance when I recover from this past work week.
• I saw "Pippin" at Bay Street Theater in Sag Harbor the other night. I'd dreaded it for some reason (too tired, too many people, etc.), but of course it was just what I needed. I went with my friend J, her marvelous girls, the twins R & R, and their grandmother. The R's were all pre-teen and sweet and silly, and they got B. D. Wong's autograph. Their neighbor (cute boy alert!) played Theo. J and I always say we need to do things like this more often, and it's true. Our next adventure: Rhinebeck.
• You know how I have loved and lived for blueberries -- well, they're sooo last month. Local peaches are my new New Thing. They'll save me, for sure.

I'm needed at work for a little while today. Somehow it doesn't bother me all that much. A few hours, then one final push through tomorrow, and I will have made it through the summer!