The Blue Imp

These models have rigid struts that are connected to each other using only tension. None of the struts touches any of the others as the elastic pulls them apart. They are sometimes called tensegrity structures but they don’t meet the strict definition. This is because the struts are not only connected at their ends and so they are not in pure compression.

The five models are my own design, based on the five Platonic solids. They are made from coffee stirrers and small elastic bands used in hairdressing. They are considerably quicker and easier to make than my card models.

There was no total eclipse at my location today, but it got pretty close. I decided to have a go at something mathematical that was eclipse related while it was happening. I pricked out a pattern of holes in a sheet of card and then used them as pinhole cameras to show lots of images of the partially eclipsed sun on a blank canvas.

Louise Bourgeois, 2006

So many times I’ve rushed into airports frazzled,

my hair everywhere as I lugged bags along,

my face flushed from hurrying,

and my breathing loud and raspy.

But I will never be seen like that in Texas.

Because George Strait lives in Texas.

A friend saw him once at Gate 29 of Dallas-Fort Worth.

He is so nice, she said, and to prove it,

she handed me a picture.

George Strait had his arm around her. He was smiling.

I struggled so to share her happiness.

Though that was years ago, I believe that unending faith

precedes glittering possibilities.

I believe that the world is basically good,

and so I am certain that one day

I will just happen to run in to George Strait in Texas.

Maybe he’ll be buying the Dallas Morning News at a Circle K.

Maybe as I’m having a salad, he’ll walk into the same cafe,

like an ordinary person, and order a medium Diet Coke.

Each time I am in Texas,

my hair shines radiant,

I won’t allow dark thoughts to mar my face even for an instant,

my hat has been steamed and re-shaped,

my clothes are smooth and coordinated,

and I am never rushed.

Once as we dined alongside the Riverwalk in San Antonio,

my husband smiled at me and said, “You sure are pretty.”

“Thanks honey,” I said, “but do you really mean it,

or are you just saying that?”

“I really mean it,” he said.

I removed my sunglasses and searched his face

in the evening light,

but I couldn’t tell if he really meant it.

In any case, I glanced around very discreetly to see

if anyone else (maybe a country western singer)

shared his sentiment. Just in case, I reminded

myself to sit up straight.

No way.

You’ll never see me looking frazzled

or the least bit scuzzy in Texas.

Whether we drive through Dalhart, visit Fort Worth

for a few days, take in a Rangers game,

or whether I have a brief layover at Houston-Hobby,

I believe that one has to be prepared

for whatever Texas has to offer.

Sometimes as the plane glides over that vast, plain state,

above scattered herds of horses, I can see the luster

sparkling off their broad backs like intense hope and I am 

Wandering glider dragonfly. I had never seen one, then I read an article about them and then today at the pond near the park they were everywhere! Ducks floating on the water were reaching up and grabbing them out of the air. One flew around me and almost into my face, backing off when it was just inches away. I’m posting a link to the article because they’re such fascinating creatures, with the longest migrations and a global family.