Photograph, San Francisco and moon on July 27 by Frederic Larson. See more of his outstanding work here and participate in his photo challenges.
You can also buy Larson's book Mystical San Francisco, which makes me homesick every time I glance at it. I also own two of Larson's mystical moon photographs.
I was tagged for an "eight random things" meme by Robyn at Garden Rooms. While I'm sure I've done similar memes at least twice, here are some more things you may not know about me.
Because I have a soft voice and good manners, people sometimes peg me as fragile. But like so many Southern women, I am a steel magnolia. Thanks to this core of inner strength - and a lot of prayer - I have persevered through tough times. I have little patience for those who once victimized, play that card endlessly. We all have our troubles, but we deal with them, then move on; we don't make the "poor pitiful me" act our life's work.
I am a backgammon wizard. But nine times out of ten, my husband beats me at Scrabble.
I appreciate the sounds of other languages being spoken all around me, even if I don't understand the languages. I find diversity reassuring and sameness worrying.
I love riding my bicycle, yet for ages, I've been too busy writing to take it off the balcony.
In recent years, I've developed vertigo; watching a moving carousel makes me dizzy.
My favourite cities all start with S and have a Spanish connection - San Francisco, Santa Fe and Sevilla. But I have no idea where my husband and I will live after Paris. If money were no object, we'd probably spend part of the year in San Francisco, part in Sevilla and the remainder in rural England - but not too far from London.
I am impatient, as well as a perfectionist - an impossible paradox.
You may have gathered by my political pieces and poetry that I don't suffer fools gladly. While I am polite and considerate of others, sometimes people don't deserve such grace. Before moving to Paris from London, my husband and I had dinner with a British colleague and his German girlfriend. She started the evening saying that in the 18 months she'd lived in Paris, the French were always rude to her. I quickly discovered why: she was one of the most aggressive and intolerant women I ever met. By mid-meal, I simply stopped talking to her, leaving my poor husband and his colleague to carry on the conversation. She was the only one oblivious to the tense atmosphere.
For SARK fans, here is an interesting piece in the San Francisco Chronicle.
If you want to play, post "eight things" on your own blog, or write eight things in the comments section here. Merci!