Three things from DAH. Free every Friday! Except I'm driving early on Friday morning, so I'm sending this Thursday evening to save on stress.
You can subscribe and browse past issues HERE 

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. “You cannot save people, you can just love them" (Anaïs Nin).

First up this week: Monkey … 
Monkey and elephant are my imaginary spirit animals. We've a house-full of sock monkeys and elephant figures. DAH pop-psychology moment: Monkey symbolism fits my id (mischief, playfulness, generosity) while elephant symbolism fits my ego (intelligence, loyalty, strength). I turn to my monkey-ness when I need a playful poke or push. Monkey mocks the malarkey of my occasional elephantine gravitas (Eeyore-ishness in fact, despite this donkey nod having nothing to do with monkeys or elephants). But then what of Paddington whose figure also figures in our home? Even monkey and elephant agree that we benefit from some marmalade-loving, Peruvian-bear-like gentle naivety.  
 
Second up this week, Monkfish …
Nothing to do with monkeys, but maybe monks. Out for supper in Seattle with members of The Rhone Rangers board of directors, years ago now. Sharing a wide variety of small plates (Spanish-style tapas restaurant). One winemaker friend felt compelled to order the smoked monkfish liver. I felt compelled to sample it. I've never forgotten that distinctive aroma, texture, flavor, and aftertaste. "Can you bring me something to counteract that?" asked my friend. A quite-sweet Muscat was suggested, presented, and shared. It did help. But I won't need that antidote again. More smoked monkfish liver is unrequired. It was a taste too far for DAH.

Third up this week, Melodrama …
I often explain, "If I can't go over the top, why go anywhere?" A great pleasure I take in some of my more outgoing friends: Their willingness to be melodramatic. I prefer the application of melodrama for laughs, even when the subject is serious. Truly tragic melodrama can be over-fraught. And, of course, I often (always?) go too far myself. "It's not the end of the world but you can see it from here" … imagining extremes is just part of who I am. Sharing my melodrama for laughs is also part of who I am. "With me it's all er nuthin'. Is it all er nuthin' with you?" (Oklahoma! Rodgers & Hammerstein). Always checking to see if we're all all-in.

A book I'm just beginning …
Miss Benson's Beetle, by Rachel Joyce. 
Recommended by Karen (thank you!). It looks perfect for me today. Post WWII, a mismatched pair of English women adventure in search of the golden beetle of New Caledonia. "Miss Benson’s Beetle is a joy of a novel, with real insight into the lives of women, the value of friendship and the lasting effects of war" (Katy Guest review in The Guardian)

And a bit more: 

Basket of Figs, by Ellen Bass

Bring me your pain, love. Spread 
it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, 
warm eggs, cinnamon
and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me

the detail, the intricate embroidery 
on the collar, tiny shell buttons, 
the hem stitched the way you were taught,
pricking just a thread, almost invisible.

Unclasp it like jewels, the gold 
still hot from your body. Empty 
your basket of figs. Spill your wine.

That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, 
cradling it on my tongue like the slick 
seed of pomegranate. I would lift it

tenderly, as a great animal might 
carry a small one in the private 
cave of the mouth.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's Sometimes

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.