40 days to Easter

Here's a poem for Lent though the author is Orthodox and they do not follow the same calendar as the western church. Some years Ash Wednesday and Lenten season seem more heavy with things to let go of. I highly recommend letting go.

Shattered.

This morning was the day after a Valentine's Day of singleness. For me, this means reminding myself that I am worth dating which means hairdryer, hair product, makeup, date-suitable outfit (a good date too, an outfit for someone I want to look good for). None of this lead-in is really that important, but it adds to the tension and frustration of what's to follow.

I walked out to my car in my long brown boots and when I arrived I realized that the back window of my car had been shattered. Nothing had been taken from my car (I know. Who doesn't want to steal Rosetta Stone French I audio cd?) I stared dumbly for a moment and realized I wasn't going to church, which was probably ok because when you get dressed up that nicely for church it makes you wonder why it is you go to church at all. I called the police and went inside. I changed clothes and waited (I read the summer issue of Poetry Magazine).

Young Officer Bo showed up at my door and took down all of the important information all while chewing tobacco. He asked about how long it had been since I had seen my window intact and since I hadn't driven my car on Saturday it had been quite awhile. The he asked if anyone had anything against me.

Here's where I realized I was a bit loopy. After the obvious answers (which if you know me are obvious), my next thought was about those cats. I imagined the cats devising a way to get back at me for interrupting their amorous encounter-- to take revenge for all of the hissing. Maybe, if the whole herd were together and the jumped simultaneously the force would be enough to shatter a window. Who knows what they are capable of? I decided not to tell Officer Bo. But I've got my eye on them, believe me.

Your Valentine

I can't quite get in the mood this year. So here is a poem with little to offer this special day:

I Know, I Remember, But How Can I Help You by Hayden Carruth

And here's a song and a gondola ride.

Is cat-loving spinsterhood born or is it thrust upon you?

I do not know if it's that I'm not native town or that I am unaccustomed to the culture where I'm living, but I am getting frustrated with the stray cats. I have my very own herd. There is cat hair on the porch and they have stopped scampering away from me at all. They just stare as if my yard was their home. They congregate under the cedar tree and crouch as though they might pounce on me if I make any sudden movements.

This evening when I walked out to my car Clockwork sat in my path basking in the sun and then slowly stood up and sauntered three feet from me as I was leaving. Hampshire and Icing were sitting underneath the cedar staring. As I drove away I saw a sight that infuriated me. I saw the last straw. I saw Clockwork mounting Hampshire.

I slammed on my brakes and stomped over to the cats and demanded that they cease. It occurred to me that this would mean more cats and that they would be native to my yard if I let this behavior continue. (Does anyone know the gestation period for cats?)

Do town people call the pound about stray cats? Do I start throwing rocks? How can I end the circle of life happening in my yard? Can I put up barbed wire to keep out the herds?

Poetry for the occasion

I have heard both negative and positive reaction to Elizabeth Alexander's inaugural poem. Some say it sounded too much like prose, some praised it as Whitmanesque. Personally, I thought it was beautiful. You may compare it to the previous offerings.

And yes, this list below is it. Too bad if you ask me.

Miller Williams (yes, he is Lucinda's father).
Maya Angelou
Robert Frost (if you missed Writer's Almanac on Tuesday, the explanation for the two poems was interesting).

If you have any events for which you would like a poem composed, contact your favorite poet and ask about their rates. Most poets will work with you for a reasonable fee.

I can hardly wait for the mini-series.

I hate talking about politics, generally. People argue and judge you for having thoughts or for not having thoughts and for thinking out loud, but mostly for not thinking exactly like they do. So I am loathe to mention anything that is entertaining in politics, but I thought you should read this.

It's all about the dramatic irony of a particular governor quoting certain poems. I love it. I love the idea of a governor quoting poetry as his ship is sinking because it makes life poetic when it would otherwise be merely filthy.

But it begs a question about politics. Once someone gets big in politics, someone else begins writing his words so that he (or she of course) sounds good. Then you end up thinking about the tail wagging the dog. What is a loyal speech writer to do? Speak sincerely without acknowledging the ridiculousness of everything that has happened? The article presumes that the quotations are made without any one's knowledge and maybe that's true, but what if some guy who is soon to be out of a job and whose resume is going to include "speech writer for crooked man" decides to have some fun.

It seems silly that someone who believes he should represent the people pays someone else to choose his words. It's telling of our society, but also makes you wonder about all of the talented people who are writing stirring words which history will ascribe to another man. It's got to be an odd gig and wouldn't it be a little bit fun to mess with someone who puts that kind of trust in you especially if that person is a jerk.

............................................................................................................

Anyway, I read that Beyonce will sing the first dance song at the inaugural ball. If I were President I would have chosen Bob Dylan I think. Just because it'd be cool. Or maybe Raul Malo because I like his voice. Or maybe Over the Rhine so they could sing their President song.

color me bad

I am in the process of repainting my house. I live in a neighborhood of little houses from the 40s and 50s which are charming and in my case falling apart. The exterior of my home is aluminum siding and the paint started coming off in sheets following the insane hail storms from this summer. So, after loads of advice (thanks Robert!!), I am getting around to repainting. On Friday, I called the paint store to give my colors to the painter.

Then on Sunday, I parked on the street instead of in my usual niche (carport). From that spot I noticed a house which was pretty much the same colors that I had called in (mine were slightly prettier, but light green and dark green are essentially identical to "mesclun green" and "olympic range" when it's all said and done). This house is across the street from the side of my house. So if you were driving down the street and looked in either direction you would see these two houses. Would a driver say "How tacky!" upon encountering the similarities or would he turn up the radio?

I freaked out a little because I'm not really a native townie. Is it a huge faux pas to paint your house the same color as a neighbor's house? Obviously, it's not a problem if it's white, which most of the houses on my block are, but does that change when it's a brighter, more interesting color? Does it change if across the street is actually pretty far because of the wide streets?

The bottom line is the white and gray have to end. "Edgy gold" is the new "mesclun green".

The mysterious ipod.

Right now I'm listening to my ipod. Betsy once said that if I wrote a novel about myself that no one would believe the parts about my technological ineptitude, yet those parts are all too real.

For starters I can't figure out how to turn the volume down. It should be an obvious feature, but somehow it is completely baffling me. Next, I am listening to a download which I purchased to start out with just to get the hang of it. I've downloaded before, but never with an actual ipod to put all of the new music on. Anyway, I picked The Avett Brothers' "Gleam 2" because it's an ep and I have a difficult time justifying buying half an album (yes, I "bought" it, but I can't see it so it's different). Apparently I bought it twice. Don't ask me how I did it, but as soon as a song ends it begins again on the ipod. Which leads me to the next mystery: How do I remove songs from the ipod? I couldn't come up with a guess on this one. The little booklet is about as scant as the paint left on my house.

(So anyway, I've apparently been bad about having downtime lately and maybe that's why I haven't been blogging, but here I am trying again. Wish me luck.)

Makeshift costuming

What do you think this little boy is dressed as?

(Seriously, I dressed him and I was never sure what he was supposed to be.)

Fall photos

One happy girl and one sad princess (or maybe she is tired of the all the photos).


I know we don't experience the fall foliage as many do in other parts, but some days the sky changes the color of everything all on its own.

Falling asleep at the grocery store

When I fall asleep there is a moment of conscious thought mixed with dreamy uncontrollable streaming. Lately, I've ended up in the grocery store during this haze. Often, I'm shopping with someone and having an intense conversation. Or I run into someone that I know and they join me in wandering the aisles to pick up the 5 regular items which sum up my normal grocery list. During these trips I generally fall asleep, so, though the conversations are intense (or I feel like they are) they are not so intense as to keep me awake. Anyway, I do not remember the last time I went to the grocery store even for my regular items. ( I think last time the regular items varied in that I purchased goat cheese instead of Colby cheese. And I purchased plums as the fruit item which hasn't been the fruit purchase for some time. Really, I can't remember the last time I purchased plums, but they are really tasty with goat cheese.) (Yes, I did discover this randomly. I was in Hays and a girl who was going to Morocco was copying a bunch of music from a guy who I hadn't ever met until that evening, but he served various cheeses and plums.) So, I guess I was just wondering if everybody has these hazy non-dreams. What are your hazy non-dreams?

hiatus broken by question

Do insects breathe?

Paris

The Eiffel Tower was lit up in honor of the 50th anniversary of the European Union.

We chose the hottest day possible to climb the long hill up to the Sacre Coeur. One sign said 38 degrees Celsius. Of course, it was worth every step.

There are pony statues all over town giving Paris the nickname of "Pony Town" (I've never heard it called that until I said it out loud walking in the city, but it's an apt nickname) . The first night that we arrived we walked along the Seine River and kept walking. Every bridge is a little different. No matter how tired we were it seemed like we should keep walking because there was so much to see.
There are a couple of Courtyards outside of the Louvre. This is one in the evening with a classic view.

More in Paris

The Winged Victory. I actually cried when I saw her. She was everything I had dreamed she would be.

The Mona Lisa.
Spitting fountain.
The Musee d'Orsay. I lost my friends in this museum and took a picture while I was looking for them. I found them eventually, but not using the bird's eye method.

There were real ponies in Paris too.

Using my passport

I just returned from my European vacation. I wish to share, but where to begin? I have been back a full week (pert near).

This was my first ever trip across the Atlantic. I'm not sure that any trip can meet all of your expectations, but seeing as I had almost none, they were all met.

Truly, I did not know what to expect. My dear hosts were people that I had met through a mutual friend. I did not know them well before my visit and now I have lifelong friends. You can never expect such things. They are gifts.

So what I saw:
1. Strasbourg, France.
2. The Vosges
3. Munich, Germany
4. Paris, France

Things more beautiful than a poem.

Some poems are mundane moments with something to teach. Tonight I was embroidering a pattern stitch. I stitch unevenly. The pattern at the end is obvious, but far from perfect. Some lines are longer than others. Where I tied off the end too tightly the fabric puckers with no sign of a kiss. I like to think that it's the only way to know that it was done by my hand.

Then there are mundane moments that will never be a poem because they are just lovely. Sometimes life is lovely without teaching you a thing. Lying on my back in the grass on a summer evening at the park, my niece jumped on top of me. Her blue eyes shone and behind her the sky was dusky blue. I thought, "this is why my favorite color is blue".

For scale

This picture was taken last August. My niece was 2 years old and a little bit scared about walking up to the statue on her own
And here is the two year old with the Texan. I didn't think Margaret's pictures showed you how enormous this statue outside of Oakley is.

2 churches

Damar's St. Joseph
Pfeifer's Holy Cross Church.

I feel like I should apologize because my pictures don't feel up to par in the exploration of these churches which were also nominated for architectural wonders. I wasn't feeling too well when we went into these places and alas, I didn't even notice that I hadn't turned on my flash in the Damar Church. Regardless, they are both beautiful. Between the two, I do prefer Pfeifer. Ultimately it's probably the same reason that the pictures in Pfeifer look so much better. There seemed to be more light in Holy Cross Church. I am a fan of light. The voters in the contest seem to agree... Pfeifer's church was named among the 8 as was the barn I visited.

Holy Cross in Pfeifer

The view from the balcony.

The bar in front of the church leading to the alter is made up of some beautiful wood carvings. Jesus appears to be blessing the fishes and loaves. I've always liked that story. (It's the bar where people took communion pre-Vatican 2... does that have a name?)

There's a mosaic of Jesus as you enter the church. We should go back during the early morning and get a picture. There was no way to get a good shot at the time of day I visited.

St. Joseph's in Damar

This is one of the stations of the cross. My mom saw the artist drawing them when Uncle Monsignor was at this parish.

These pictures are random. I'm very sorry. I didn't get a lot of pictures that turned out at St. Joseph's. Like I said, I wasn't feeling well that day, but I think these pictures give you an idea about what a pretty church it is.