Saturday, March 21, 2009
how to tell whether or not you had a good cupcake party: by the mess!
Ryan and I have lots of friends born in the month of March. Instead of trying to keep track and get involved with lots of different party situations involving cakes and presents and cards and all the like, we decided to throw a big bash for all the birthday kids. The theme of the party was cupcake decorating, and it turned out brilliant. You can tell just how awesome it was by how neat and pretty the table looked before anyone started decorating:
and after.
The overall results, though, were soooooo worth the clean up effort (which was made easy by the disposable table cloth under all the mess and a few of my cupcake creating friends who helped tidy up).
and after.
The overall results, though, were soooooo worth the clean up effort (which was made easy by the disposable table cloth under all the mess and a few of my cupcake creating friends who helped tidy up).
Blue Shirt - a poem
for Kim Michelle Coakley
i let the music play loud through my headphones
let the sound of the world dissipate in the wake
of a drummer
- his base pedal at the base of my spine -
of a singer
- his voice echoes in a dome -
and fall asleep to dream only to rise
to wake
- with a cat on my stomach -
from some sugar induced hangover
and all i can see when i open my eyes
is the cat on my stomach
and a man standing beside me
and all i can see when i close my eyes
is the blue shirt he wares.
i let the music play loud through my headphones
let the sound of the world dissipate in the wake
of a drummer
- his base pedal at the base of my spine -
of a singer
- his voice echoes in a dome -
and fall asleep to dream only to rise
to wake
- with a cat on my stomach -
from some sugar induced hangover
and all i can see when i open my eyes
is the cat on my stomach
and a man standing beside me
and all i can see when i close my eyes
is the blue shirt he wares.
cupcake party hangover
the cupcake decorating contest was fabulous! i will post more pictures tomorrow... and by tomorrow i mean later today. it's really 1:30 in the morning already!?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
so beautiful
half asleep - she felt his lips between her shoulder blades -
and letting out a sigh - fixing for a morning stretch
fit for arms to wrap around and hold the pose -
counting up the daybreak minutes and grouping them
in separate sections for seductive reasoning and warm
breath on her neck shadowed in creased linen
behind laxidasical blinds over open windows -
cool air and his warm breath turning towards her breast
'you're so' he said - somewhere amidst a kiss and hummed -
he curled around the rest of the morning only to miss
the last bus back to the city so he had to call his wife
and letting out a sigh - fixing for a morning stretch
fit for arms to wrap around and hold the pose -
counting up the daybreak minutes and grouping them
in separate sections for seductive reasoning and warm
breath on her neck shadowed in creased linen
behind laxidasical blinds over open windows -
cool air and his warm breath turning towards her breast
'you're so' he said - somewhere amidst a kiss and hummed -
he curled around the rest of the morning only to miss
the last bus back to the city so he had to call his wife
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
1st Annual Cupcake Decorating Contest - THE MENU
i have recently discovered that March is a very popular birthday month. eight friends ryan and i have made in the past year or so all seem to have been born in march.
so, instead of celebrating so many individual birthdays, i decided to throw one big h○○rah. the theme, CUPCAKES! in fact, it's a cupcake decorating contest. naturally, not just any cupcakes will do. so i've been searching foodgawker to find the best recipes for cupcakes, and here they are:
1. Chocolate Cupcakes and Chocolate Frosting
the cupcakes and frosting recipes are from Lovin' From the Oven. and although they look absolutely divine as Kim intended... i'm adding Kelly's Creme Filling to really make these chocolate cupcakes stand out!
2. Chocolate Chip Cupcakes and Cookie Dough Frosting
A Good Appetite has a great, simple recipe for chocolate chip cupcakes. i've made them once already, and upon ryan's request i'll be omitting the cinnamon this time.
the frosting comes from HELLO!BAKER and is truly amazing to taste. i recommend it highly.
the combination of these two came out perfect when i made them last time.
3. Lemon Cupcakes and Butter Cream Frosting
am going lazy on these, because the lemon cake from the box is actually really really nice. as for frosting, i'll be making lots of HELLO!BAKER's butter cream and probably dying it lots of different colors for decorators to chose from ^_^
obviously, the three kinds of cupcakes and three frosting's will be mixed and matched for the competition, but these are my favorite partnering of flavors.
i can't wait!!
UPDATE: what do you think of rainbow colored lemon cupcakes!?
so, instead of celebrating so many individual birthdays, i decided to throw one big h○○rah. the theme, CUPCAKES! in fact, it's a cupcake decorating contest. naturally, not just any cupcakes will do. so i've been searching foodgawker to find the best recipes for cupcakes, and here they are:
1. Chocolate Cupcakes and Chocolate Frosting
the cupcakes and frosting recipes are from Lovin' From the Oven. and although they look absolutely divine as Kim intended... i'm adding Kelly's Creme Filling to really make these chocolate cupcakes stand out!
2. Chocolate Chip Cupcakes and Cookie Dough Frosting
A Good Appetite has a great, simple recipe for chocolate chip cupcakes. i've made them once already, and upon ryan's request i'll be omitting the cinnamon this time.
the frosting comes from HELLO!BAKER and is truly amazing to taste. i recommend it highly.
the combination of these two came out perfect when i made them last time.
3. Lemon Cupcakes and Butter Cream Frosting
am going lazy on these, because the lemon cake from the box is actually really really nice. as for frosting, i'll be making lots of HELLO!BAKER's butter cream and probably dying it lots of different colors for decorators to chose from ^_^
obviously, the three kinds of cupcakes and three frosting's will be mixed and matched for the competition, but these are my favorite partnering of flavors.
i can't wait!!
UPDATE: what do you think of rainbow colored lemon cupcakes!?
Monday, March 16, 2009
This - By John Bell
sweet John Bell stole my idea to write poems for people who've donated a title. i gave John "this" and he gave me "this" in return ^_^ love it.
This
for Katy Acheson
Midnight melody and a dash of blue
is my modest request.
I want to see the fireflies cavort
with Niagara Falls,
and have a rave party at the lighthouse,
which signals passing ships
in a cerulean bath. So that’s a bit
more than a dash, I know.
Just give me a melody to build on.
I’ll provide the blue.
This
for Katy Acheson
Midnight melody and a dash of blue
is my modest request.
I want to see the fireflies cavort
with Niagara Falls,
and have a rave party at the lighthouse,
which signals passing ships
in a cerulean bath. So that’s a bit
more than a dash, I know.
Just give me a melody to build on.
I’ll provide the blue.
early childhood - ekphrasis 13
for my deceased dryer
she wants to know his life history
to make sense of his misery and overt honesty
to understand him like an alternate past to her own
so she asked him to share his first memory
she wants to know his life history
to make sense of his misery and overt honesty
to understand him like an alternate past to her own
so she asked him to share his first memory
howl - ekphrasis 12
one for the dog
inspired by what they thought they new
of hemmingway's stories of bullfights
with big dinners after the races alongside
women in bright colored dresses and dark make up
they strode into town too early for dinner
too late for a siesta beer and too rich
for the afternoon to pass by without trouble
to start with the first and vibrate
through the rest of the arm
when it hit the dim server on the jaw
wrecked his night and his face
he joined the drunk tourists on their rampage.
inspired by what they thought they new
of hemmingway's stories of bullfights
with big dinners after the races alongside
women in bright colored dresses and dark make up
they strode into town too early for dinner
too late for a siesta beer and too rich
for the afternoon to pass by without trouble
to start with the first and vibrate
through the rest of the arm
when it hit the dim server on the jaw
wrecked his night and his face
he joined the drunk tourists on their rampage.
the long way (reposted)
this poem was published in the onion union, which seems no longer to exsist. so i've rummaged through my old files and found it for repost here. because this is my favorite poem that i've ever written, i wanted to share it with you all again.
the long way
we were lying down the long way
when the tides shifted in the cove
clipper ships swiveled and capsized
in the wake of a realistic day dream
or the juice of a plum that we shared
with the natives on fortified beaches
your sun-burnt stomach turned brown
under the orange moon of august
rising and falling like birds on loose cords
spanning mediocre highways in rural towns
and growing like a nest of twigs
our bodies absorbed the marshland salts
taking each seed home in separate pouches
that we traded for rifles and fishing hooks
special thanks to Marcus McCann for helping me retrieve this poem!
the long way
we were lying down the long way
when the tides shifted in the cove
clipper ships swiveled and capsized
in the wake of a realistic day dream
or the juice of a plum that we shared
with the natives on fortified beaches
your sun-burnt stomach turned brown
under the orange moon of august
rising and falling like birds on loose cords
spanning mediocre highways in rural towns
and growing like a nest of twigs
our bodies absorbed the marshland salts
taking each seed home in separate pouches
that we traded for rifles and fishing hooks
special thanks to Marcus McCann for helping me retrieve this poem!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
the act of being fruit (reposted)
i wrote this poem in the spring of 2006. i took the most of it down when it got picked up for publication in the online a'pos'tro'phe, which has been erased from existence. so, here's the full act of being fruit. enjoy.
a slight cherry condition
looming over the mango prophecy
the apple storm surging
starving the grape wrath
my cranberry vision
interrupted by a peach
the weather on this island
insufferable fruit bearing trees
never before a coconut
nor a lemon had fallen
now my pomegranate soaked lips
search through the woods
for the act of being a fruit
has only temporary value.
a slight cherry condition
looming over the mango prophecy
the apple storm surging
starving the grape wrath
my cranberry vision
interrupted by a peach
the weather on this island
insufferable fruit bearing trees
never before a coconut
nor a lemon had fallen
now my pomegranate soaked lips
search through the woods
for the act of being a fruit
has only temporary value.
girl friends (finale)
grad school girl friends
this is the final part of an epic, 3-part post. this post all came about because of the girls in this section. particularly jenni and nicole.
beth, sam and katey allen fall into this category too. and because this is a special category i feel i should also mention kate powers, ezinne and ling.
this group of women in my life (all inclusive) is the most unique and possibly the least mixable. they have mixed. particularly jenni and nicole. i think they have the potential to mix even more in fact, were it not for the fact that i love an hour away from where their lives happen.
this group of women for me, are most like me right now. yet, they are overall the least... accessible.
it's a complex and odd sort of relationship that i have with all of them. we work together, and sometimes it feels as though that's it. other times it's so much more. i laugh the most because of these women. that is without a doubt the truth right now. they make me so happy. simultaneously, they are the root of some sadness.
this sadness started with kate. kate was my best friend for 15 weeks. it was as if we dated and later broke up. the break up didn't happen fast, but i watched it happen. i watched he grow away from me. i've lost kate now. but we had many a lovely time complaining together at the underground cafe over hot earl grey.
it feels good to admit that it's over.
but the loss of kate leaves a blackspot in my mind... what if i lose them all?
i don't want to lose jenni. i don't want to lose nicole.
as much as i adore beth, as much as i am interested in sam, as much as i respect and enjoy katey's company... it's jenni and nicole i worry about, which is really odd.
i never thought i'd like either of them. there, i said it. not in the way i do now.
and now that i'm here, talking about them and thinking about them, i'm not sure where i want to go next... in this post i mean, even though they were the start of it all... this need to taxonomize my girl friends.
i guess... there it is. the girl friends of katy acheson.
and that's just the graduate students from grad school, i haven't mentioned yet liz pantani, kerry pepka, nicole mclernon or kristen t.w.. all of whom i consider my friends. girl friends even.
nor does this entire tirade mention the girls i've befriended online or through the twin peaks fest. for another day.
this is the final part of an epic, 3-part post. this post all came about because of the girls in this section. particularly jenni and nicole.
beth, sam and katey allen fall into this category too. and because this is a special category i feel i should also mention kate powers, ezinne and ling.
this group of women in my life (all inclusive) is the most unique and possibly the least mixable. they have mixed. particularly jenni and nicole. i think they have the potential to mix even more in fact, were it not for the fact that i love an hour away from where their lives happen.
this group of women for me, are most like me right now. yet, they are overall the least... accessible.
it's a complex and odd sort of relationship that i have with all of them. we work together, and sometimes it feels as though that's it. other times it's so much more. i laugh the most because of these women. that is without a doubt the truth right now. they make me so happy. simultaneously, they are the root of some sadness.
this sadness started with kate. kate was my best friend for 15 weeks. it was as if we dated and later broke up. the break up didn't happen fast, but i watched it happen. i watched he grow away from me. i've lost kate now. but we had many a lovely time complaining together at the underground cafe over hot earl grey.
it feels good to admit that it's over.
but the loss of kate leaves a blackspot in my mind... what if i lose them all?
i don't want to lose jenni. i don't want to lose nicole.
as much as i adore beth, as much as i am interested in sam, as much as i respect and enjoy katey's company... it's jenni and nicole i worry about, which is really odd.
i never thought i'd like either of them. there, i said it. not in the way i do now.
and now that i'm here, talking about them and thinking about them, i'm not sure where i want to go next... in this post i mean, even though they were the start of it all... this need to taxonomize my girl friends.
i guess... there it is. the girl friends of katy acheson.
and that's just the graduate students from grad school, i haven't mentioned yet liz pantani, kerry pepka, nicole mclernon or kristen t.w.. all of whom i consider my friends. girl friends even.
nor does this entire tirade mention the girls i've befriended online or through the twin peaks fest. for another day.
girl friends (part 2)
where did i leave off? college girl friends ...
so what happened after college... marriage, of course.
so the next taxonomy of girl friends is wifey girlfriends
when ryan and i got married, we didn't have any married couple friends. ryan had just moved and didn't have many friends here at all in fact. we didn't even have that much of a mutual friends group. i was friends with all his friends and vise verse, but for the most part they were either mine or his.
but over time, through work and dreadcentral.com, we made some couple friends. in this group we have, most notably, Debbie the wife of Josh and Michelle the wife of a different Josh. There is also Debbie the wife of Steve and the rest of the dread central crew who are all fabulous people.
these women mix.
well, michelle mostly mixes as long as she's not at war with her stomach. aside from the ability to mix, michelle is one of my dearest friends. we share similar dissimilarities. i mean, we're compatible. we both appreciate certain aspects of life and love and vinyl collectors toys but in our own unique ways. i think she is the most like ryan as any women i've ever known. except ryan never gets mad at me, and michelle gets mad at josh lots. but i guess i'm not josh, even though josh and i are sort of similar in our need for constant huggings.
so the wifey girl friends isn't that big of a section... but there's some overlap with the next section, which we'll call girl friends by proxy. by proxy meaning nothing more than by close location (they all live on the cape, well, almost all). this group ranges... in fact maybe i should put them into subgroups...
(this is where things get confusing...)
1. girl friends with boyfriends
erin van pelt is my friend because matt is friends with jared who's friends with ryan through eb games
nikki baldwin is my friend because she's friends with alex who i work with
liz is jared's (see erin above) wife. we met when her and jared were just engaged. we hit it off, to say the least.
2. liz's girl friends
erin van pelt falls here again
deanna
sian
taylor (girlfriend to another josh)
3. girl friends from my part time jobs:
kristen, jill and melissa from the pizza place (nikki baldwin could also go here)
ashley and erin/buttercup from the polar cave
all these girlrs mix because i got to know all of them in the mix. these are the girls that become part of ryan and my group of mutual friends. they're the ones i call in the summer at 11pm after scooping ice cream for 6 hours to see if they want to go swimming in the lake across the street. these are the girls i go out for cupcakes with or bring home with me after work to help decorate cupcakes. they're my doctor who watching cuddle buddies.
these girls, especially those liz brought to me, are all generous and lovely and close... they're here. and hopefully they know they're always welcome.
for me, these girls are easy to be friends with because they are here, because they feel comfortable in my home and hopefully they always feel welcome.
so what happened after college... marriage, of course.
so the next taxonomy of girl friends is wifey girlfriends
when ryan and i got married, we didn't have any married couple friends. ryan had just moved and didn't have many friends here at all in fact. we didn't even have that much of a mutual friends group. i was friends with all his friends and vise verse, but for the most part they were either mine or his.
but over time, through work and dreadcentral.com, we made some couple friends. in this group we have, most notably, Debbie the wife of Josh and Michelle the wife of a different Josh. There is also Debbie the wife of Steve and the rest of the dread central crew who are all fabulous people.
these women mix.
well, michelle mostly mixes as long as she's not at war with her stomach. aside from the ability to mix, michelle is one of my dearest friends. we share similar dissimilarities. i mean, we're compatible. we both appreciate certain aspects of life and love and vinyl collectors toys but in our own unique ways. i think she is the most like ryan as any women i've ever known. except ryan never gets mad at me, and michelle gets mad at josh lots. but i guess i'm not josh, even though josh and i are sort of similar in our need for constant huggings.
so the wifey girl friends isn't that big of a section... but there's some overlap with the next section, which we'll call girl friends by proxy. by proxy meaning nothing more than by close location (they all live on the cape, well, almost all). this group ranges... in fact maybe i should put them into subgroups...
(this is where things get confusing...)
1. girl friends with boyfriends
erin van pelt is my friend because matt is friends with jared who's friends with ryan through eb games
nikki baldwin is my friend because she's friends with alex who i work with
liz is jared's (see erin above) wife. we met when her and jared were just engaged. we hit it off, to say the least.
2. liz's girl friends
erin van pelt falls here again
deanna
sian
taylor (girlfriend to another josh)
3. girl friends from my part time jobs:
kristen, jill and melissa from the pizza place (nikki baldwin could also go here)
ashley and erin/buttercup from the polar cave
all these girlrs mix because i got to know all of them in the mix. these are the girls that become part of ryan and my group of mutual friends. they're the ones i call in the summer at 11pm after scooping ice cream for 6 hours to see if they want to go swimming in the lake across the street. these are the girls i go out for cupcakes with or bring home with me after work to help decorate cupcakes. they're my doctor who watching cuddle buddies.
these girls, especially those liz brought to me, are all generous and lovely and close... they're here. and hopefully they know they're always welcome.
for me, these girls are easy to be friends with because they are here, because they feel comfortable in my home and hopefully they always feel welcome.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
girl friends (a traditional blog entry)
i have lots of girl friends. i love them all distinctly and individually, as well as in specific groupings. certain girl friends don't mix with other girl friends, others do.
let's start with high school girl friends.
even though she's my sister, i still count meaghan in this group along with danielle and lauren. these three mix with all other groups because they are all more like sisters than like friends. i have come to the realization that keeping friends (real friends, not facebook friends) from high school is a normal rarity.
what i mean by normal rarity is that it is normal to keep a few rare friends from high school. most people i talk to who have been out of high school for several years and, for the most part, have moved away from their high school home town, only keep in touch with a select few girl friends from school.
danielle and lauren were the only high school girl friends i invited to my wedding.
meaghan, my sister. she's beautiful and i love her and i like her more and more as the years go by.
danielle, my surrogate sister. we've been living somewhat parallel lives with the exception of my being married. we both went to school, both made lots of new wonderful friends and grew, both took some time off before grad school, are both still on the cape and watching sci fi television shows. danielle mixes in with all of my friends like a sister.
lauren, lauren is that person for me who i can not talk to for over a year and then when we get on the phone it's as though mere days have passed by. we just click. ryan's like this with his best man adam. lauren and i were buddies, we always have been, and i think we always will be. we're soul mates in that respect.
then there are college girl friends.
mary k, bunny, dina and rachel are my life time loves. i will travel to see them. i am close, still with plenty of other girls from umass, like andrea, maya, rachel lewis and shannon, but i could have listed all the girls from high school who i still talk to too.
mary, bunny, dina and rachel. i lived with them, i saw them find their way, loose their way, and i'm watching them grow into adulthood through marriage and careers now. they too watched me through the myriad shifts in those three years we lived together. They were with me when i got engaged and married to ryan. they watched me grow, struggle, fight and learn. they know exactly who I am because they've seen every part of me.
for the most part, they mix. but, all on my own part, i don't mix them with others because i enjoy being an entire katy when they're around. they are all the female equivalents to me as ryan is my male equal. i never pretend with them. if i am in a bad mood, i never have to apologise for it. ever.
let's start with high school girl friends.
even though she's my sister, i still count meaghan in this group along with danielle and lauren. these three mix with all other groups because they are all more like sisters than like friends. i have come to the realization that keeping friends (real friends, not facebook friends) from high school is a normal rarity.
what i mean by normal rarity is that it is normal to keep a few rare friends from high school. most people i talk to who have been out of high school for several years and, for the most part, have moved away from their high school home town, only keep in touch with a select few girl friends from school.
danielle and lauren were the only high school girl friends i invited to my wedding.
meaghan, my sister. she's beautiful and i love her and i like her more and more as the years go by.
danielle, my surrogate sister. we've been living somewhat parallel lives with the exception of my being married. we both went to school, both made lots of new wonderful friends and grew, both took some time off before grad school, are both still on the cape and watching sci fi television shows. danielle mixes in with all of my friends like a sister.
lauren, lauren is that person for me who i can not talk to for over a year and then when we get on the phone it's as though mere days have passed by. we just click. ryan's like this with his best man adam. lauren and i were buddies, we always have been, and i think we always will be. we're soul mates in that respect.
then there are college girl friends.
mary k, bunny, dina and rachel are my life time loves. i will travel to see them. i am close, still with plenty of other girls from umass, like andrea, maya, rachel lewis and shannon, but i could have listed all the girls from high school who i still talk to too.
mary, bunny, dina and rachel. i lived with them, i saw them find their way, loose their way, and i'm watching them grow into adulthood through marriage and careers now. they too watched me through the myriad shifts in those three years we lived together. They were with me when i got engaged and married to ryan. they watched me grow, struggle, fight and learn. they know exactly who I am because they've seen every part of me.
for the most part, they mix. but, all on my own part, i don't mix them with others because i enjoy being an entire katy when they're around. they are all the female equivalents to me as ryan is my male equal. i never pretend with them. if i am in a bad mood, i never have to apologise for it. ever.
Friday, March 13, 2009
big fish, blue fish - ekphrasis 11
for Adam Burnett
sharks are hungry creatures
when kept in small pools
in basements with sings posted
that read: Do Not Enter
post script: dear adam, i have been thinking about this cartoon for days. three to be exact. i must look like a complete creep because as i walk to my car, for example, i'll smile at myself because this cartoon is funny. i have been trying to think of a poem to go along with it. it's been harder than i ever thought because i keep getting side-tracked by the humor and imagining this actually happening. i am still afraid of babies. affectionately, katy
sharks are hungry creatures
when kept in small pools
in basements with sings posted
that read: Do Not Enter
post script: dear adam, i have been thinking about this cartoon for days. three to be exact. i must look like a complete creep because as i walk to my car, for example, i'll smile at myself because this cartoon is funny. i have been trying to think of a poem to go along with it. it's been harder than i ever thought because i keep getting side-tracked by the humor and imagining this actually happening. i am still afraid of babies. affectionately, katy
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Jack Status Report
jack seems to be doing really well tonight. i took him to the vet this morning for more fluids and another dose of stomach medicine. when we got home, he went straight for his food bowl.
ryan came home at lunch and fed jack some wet gooey kitty food with his usual medicine (for his upi eye) mixed in and he ate that all up.
as of now, he's not thrown up all day. i've not seen him have any water yet, but at least he's eating (that's a big deal).
i will keep you posted. assume no news is good news ^_^
local paper boy - ekphrasis 10
for Rowan Harris
as he fell from the sky scraper
pistol in hand, he punctured a whole
in the side of my stomach
which bleed until my heart
no longer beat
for anyone
but him
as he fell from the sky scraper
pistol in hand, he punctured a whole
in the side of my stomach
which bleed until my heart
no longer beat
for anyone
but him
Cool is the Way
a poem for Kelly
we melt into the archetype
of homemade nostalgia
of gooey centers
and chocolaty pomp adores
in the kitchens of finer forms
the aroma takes him over
over the boundless scape
red with heavy desire
towards the grinding halt
that life makes us
when we come face to face
with a woman who bakes
we melt into the archetype
of homemade nostalgia
of gooey centers
and chocolaty pomp adores
in the kitchens of finer forms
the aroma takes him over
over the boundless scape
red with heavy desire
towards the grinding halt
that life makes us
when we come face to face
with a woman who bakes
Monday, March 09, 2009
dark sky's an undertow - ekphrasis 9
for Rowan Harris
the steep dish sides of a holding cell
waiting the breath for gluey bile
our secret city under constant watching
some tremor caused by urchins and flirts
listed on the sides of milk cartons
remind us of our green grass gardens
yonder the wondering corn meal cookies
we shared at the wedding in Wyoming
where there, there is no water to speak of
we made juice out of trees and rain
and sucked our thumbs as we dreamed
about such cities as this one
the steep dish sides of a holding cell
waiting the breath for gluey bile
our secret city under constant watching
some tremor caused by urchins and flirts
listed on the sides of milk cartons
remind us of our green grass gardens
yonder the wondering corn meal cookies
we shared at the wedding in Wyoming
where there, there is no water to speak of
we made juice out of trees and rain
and sucked our thumbs as we dreamed
about such cities as this one
Jack Shouldn't Swallow Stuff
I brought Jack to the vet this morning because he's been throwing up all over the past two nights.
The vet says he seems fine, but he's to stay there all day so they can give him a dose of fluids under his skin before coming home at 4pm.
Ryan says he saw Jack swallow something on Saturday night. The vet reported seeing nothing on Jack's xray and is going to go on what Ryan saw and give Jack some medicine to line his stomach and stop him from throwing up as much. Also, Jack can't eat anything until this time tomorrow, so all the kitties will have to go without noms for the night. I'll make sure to give Rowdy and Alli a can of wet food to share before Jackie comes home so no one's too hungry unnecessarily.
Poor baby Jack.
The vet says he seems fine, but he's to stay there all day so they can give him a dose of fluids under his skin before coming home at 4pm.
Ryan says he saw Jack swallow something on Saturday night. The vet reported seeing nothing on Jack's xray and is going to go on what Ryan saw and give Jack some medicine to line his stomach and stop him from throwing up as much. Also, Jack can't eat anything until this time tomorrow, so all the kitties will have to go without noms for the night. I'll make sure to give Rowdy and Alli a can of wet food to share before Jackie comes home so no one's too hungry unnecessarily.
Poor baby Jack.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
counting time on yellow cabs - ekphrasis 8
for Sam Giffin
time can be counted on yellow cabs
and homeless men with dogs outside grocers' shops
my emotions are filed
under streets without names
and miracles happen in the fashion district
when little men find smaller women
time can be counted on yellow cabs
and homeless men with dogs outside grocers' shops
my emotions are filed
under streets without names
and miracles happen in the fashion district
when little men find smaller women
fear revisited
we were up at 4am
because jack was throwing up
blood and slime on the tan carpet
today he sleeps sound
on top of a strawberry shortcake blanket
on the computer desk
he'll drink water from a bottle cap
taking small sensitive sips
before curling back into sleep
because jack was throwing up
blood and slime on the tan carpet
today he sleeps sound
on top of a strawberry shortcake blanket
on the computer desk
he'll drink water from a bottle cap
taking small sensitive sips
before curling back into sleep
rumored - ekphrasis 7
for Jenni Baker
to see image click here
rumor has it that Charles is cracked.
the rumor first started when Ben heard from Sue
that Charles wouldn't sleep with her.
Ben told Janet.
Janet assumed it was because he didn't like Sue,
but to make Sue feel better, Janet told Sue she thought
it was because there must be something
terribly wrong with him.
to see image click here
rumor has it that Charles is cracked.
the rumor first started when Ben heard from Sue
that Charles wouldn't sleep with her.
Ben told Janet.
Janet assumed it was because he didn't like Sue,
but to make Sue feel better, Janet told Sue she thought
it was because there must be something
terribly wrong with him.
Friday, March 06, 2009
simple glory - ekphrasis 6
for Beth Ayer
the oatmeal got cold this morning
sitting in the yellow chair
that by the stairs such an effect
as weather would procure on Sundays
memorable dates and clusters of
white laundry in corners hidden
from birds and bowls of sweets
with fashioned covers like lips
painted pink and pursed and kissed
until all the candy is gone
the wet mop bucket by the table
treater of song to dump the words
a poor man's wedding night to
the simple glory of a terrible storm.
the oatmeal got cold this morning
sitting in the yellow chair
that by the stairs such an effect
as weather would procure on Sundays
memorable dates and clusters of
white laundry in corners hidden
from birds and bowls of sweets
with fashioned covers like lips
painted pink and pursed and kissed
until all the candy is gone
the wet mop bucket by the table
treater of song to dump the words
a poor man's wedding night to
the simple glory of a terrible storm.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
noah rises again
Noah Eli Gordon in H_NGM_N
Noah Eli Godron was the TA who taught me that I didn't actually know what poetry was, and I blame him for many of my poetressings. I know "poetressings" isn't an actual word, but it says what I mean better than any real word.
Go read some of his pretty words.
Noah Eli Godron was the TA who taught me that I didn't actually know what poetry was, and I blame him for many of my poetressings. I know "poetressings" isn't an actual word, but it says what I mean better than any real word.
Go read some of his pretty words.
bankrupt
the fingers are dry, the skin cracking
a play list of songs on going on the tongue
of the girl alongside me, i trade positions
and play her a song of my own to let
my fingers bleed on the strings and strands
when the brushed grain's oil dried to a crack
to match the fingers that caress the body
a fine piece of architecture in my lap
and a cat at my feet to her who cried
until the bed was wet with all the sad
songs we shared on this cold and dry morning
a play list of songs on going on the tongue
of the girl alongside me, i trade positions
and play her a song of my own to let
my fingers bleed on the strings and strands
when the brushed grain's oil dried to a crack
to match the fingers that caress the body
a fine piece of architecture in my lap
and a cat at my feet to her who cried
until the bed was wet with all the sad
songs we shared on this cold and dry morning
catch - ekphrasis 5
for Beth Ayer
waking up late this morning
meant a missed chance
at over-coffee flirting
with the fit girl from apartment 12
her sneakers are bright white
and well worn and i wonder
how does she keep them so clean
in such a shitty city
waking up late this morning
meant a missed chance
at over-coffee flirting
with the fit girl from apartment 12
her sneakers are bright white
and well worn and i wonder
how does she keep them so clean
in such a shitty city
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
more than it seems - ekphrasis 4
for Brian Boutwell
hey!
you there!!
his tie flapped over his shoulder as he ran -
trying to catch the girl in the fitted dress
his french was poor - but he did his best to explain
how he'd ended up with her purse
she scowled at him - a white smudge on a black day.
her father died earlier - the tears still stung her face
he offered to buy her a coffee or tea - whichever -
he offered to impress himself upon her - make her forget
but she refused - took back her purse and cried
falling into the arms of the stranger who stole her purse.
hey!
you there!!
his tie flapped over his shoulder as he ran -
trying to catch the girl in the fitted dress
his french was poor - but he did his best to explain
how he'd ended up with her purse
she scowled at him - a white smudge on a black day.
her father died earlier - the tears still stung her face
he offered to buy her a coffee or tea - whichever -
he offered to impress himself upon her - make her forget
but she refused - took back her purse and cried
falling into the arms of the stranger who stole her purse.
flesh and blood - ekphrasis 3
for Nicole McLernon
she rose to the rhythm
of a gaining mist and weed
the trudge and trickle
down the back of her neck
the growing spine of a rose
bushed and thorned and beautiful
beside her - cupid's arrow struck -
a poor boy without a beard
between two white sheets his breath
heavy with the burden of bones
a man to become all flesh and blood
to the woman who feeds on light
he sleeps with a rose, a thorn
and the morning dew
like a weeping girl is all
a man could wish to comfort
she rose to the rhythm
of a gaining mist and weed
the trudge and trickle
down the back of her neck
the growing spine of a rose
bushed and thorned and beautiful
beside her - cupid's arrow struck -
a poor boy without a beard
between two white sheets his breath
heavy with the burden of bones
a man to become all flesh and blood
to the woman who feeds on light
he sleeps with a rose, a thorn
and the morning dew
like a weeping girl is all
a man could wish to comfort
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
stories - ekphrasis 3
for Ashraf Osman
dear friend, my feet are bare
and my fears are real. there's a war
in the distance, they destroyed the moon.
dear friend, there is a song,
sung by the warriors of plentiful nations,
about the sun that once shone.
dear friend, my feet are cold
and the sun is just a myth. but
we are true, you and i, to one another.
my dear friend, how i love the world
with you by my side, sun or no sun now
the scent of blossoms is a happy memory.
my dear sweet friend, let's carry on
caring and working and writing. or else
children might not remember the stories.
dear friend, my feet are bare
and my fears are real. there's a war
in the distance, they destroyed the moon.
dear friend, there is a song,
sung by the warriors of plentiful nations,
about the sun that once shone.
dear friend, my feet are cold
and the sun is just a myth. but
we are true, you and i, to one another.
my dear friend, how i love the world
with you by my side, sun or no sun now
the scent of blossoms is a happy memory.
my dear sweet friend, let's carry on
caring and working and writing. or else
children might not remember the stories.
Monday, March 02, 2009
not so good at being bad
i'm not so good
it turns out
i'm not so good at being bad
so it turns out
putting it off
i'm not as pretty when i cry
not as well loved either
and this pitiful expression
in words and small graces
is unbecoming.
so i do it well, do it all
and hide my tears from everyone
except the cats.
it turns out
i'm not so good at being bad
so it turns out
putting it off
i'm not as pretty when i cry
not as well loved either
and this pitiful expression
in words and small graces
is unbecoming.
so i do it well, do it all
and hide my tears from everyone
except the cats.
to be like a cup is, at peace and beautiful
i would like to be like a cup is,
at peace and beautiful and full of itself
i'm covered in the shed hair of cats
that love me and purr when i stroke them
but the stray orange hair in my tea
makes the cup more like me than i'd like
we are too similar for me to want to be
like the cup filled with tea, hot and bitter
i would not like to be the tea, but the milk
perhaps, that gives the tea a mild natured way
to think of the world in meals and tropes
and i would like to be free from poetry
all the poetry that is better than mine,
and all the poets, better at reading it out
in front of small crowds of wine drinkers
at local bookshops that wave the flag
of denial in the face of a dying way of living
like students with pocket money left over
from dinner last night because the girl they wanted
didn't want to go home with them, with him
i do not want to be like him, i want to be like her
strong willed and pretty and dressed
with small shoes and a book under her pillow
innocent and longing for true love
i don't want to be too pretty, just the right length
like a song in a movie that plays over kissing
the part where the perfect girl
is wearing the perfect dress and sipping
the perfect tea over the perfect conversation
with the perfect college boy
who reads poetry perfectly and then kisses her
when she least expects it
so that finally, she can taste love
without thinking too much about it before it happens
a perfect, pretty couplet
at the end of a perfectly written song.
at peace and beautiful and full of itself
i'm covered in the shed hair of cats
that love me and purr when i stroke them
but the stray orange hair in my tea
makes the cup more like me than i'd like
we are too similar for me to want to be
like the cup filled with tea, hot and bitter
i would not like to be the tea, but the milk
perhaps, that gives the tea a mild natured way
to think of the world in meals and tropes
and i would like to be free from poetry
all the poetry that is better than mine,
and all the poets, better at reading it out
in front of small crowds of wine drinkers
at local bookshops that wave the flag
of denial in the face of a dying way of living
like students with pocket money left over
from dinner last night because the girl they wanted
didn't want to go home with them, with him
i do not want to be like him, i want to be like her
strong willed and pretty and dressed
with small shoes and a book under her pillow
innocent and longing for true love
i don't want to be too pretty, just the right length
like a song in a movie that plays over kissing
the part where the perfect girl
is wearing the perfect dress and sipping
the perfect tea over the perfect conversation
with the perfect college boy
who reads poetry perfectly and then kisses her
when she least expects it
so that finally, she can taste love
without thinking too much about it before it happens
a perfect, pretty couplet
at the end of a perfectly written song.
Leon - a drabble
“Leon, do you love me?”
His feet felt like roots, like bricks in the pavement. He couldn’t move. What could he do? What could he say? How in the world could he answer a question like that?
“Leon?”
He looked her in the eyes, those big beautiful eyes. She looked at him with those eyes when she sang. The lyrics hurt with love: “it’s like running through deep water, trying to look into your eyes”.
Her eyes were soft and wet, threatening to tear over.
So he said nothing. He looked at her, in her eyes.
And he kissed her.
His feet felt like roots, like bricks in the pavement. He couldn’t move. What could he do? What could he say? How in the world could he answer a question like that?
“Leon?”
He looked her in the eyes, those big beautiful eyes. She looked at him with those eyes when she sang. The lyrics hurt with love: “it’s like running through deep water, trying to look into your eyes”.
Her eyes were soft and wet, threatening to tear over.
So he said nothing. He looked at her, in her eyes.
And he kissed her.
you're not who we thought you were - ekphrasis 2
for jenni baker
we're not who you thought
when you pulled the last petal
tore the breath from our breast
the beating hearts of coffee mugs
a pretty thing in a vintage dress
and the heady fragrance of spies
on the veranda, a breakthrough,
i think i'll love you anyway
we're not who you thought
when you pulled the last petal
tore the breath from our breast
the beating hearts of coffee mugs
a pretty thing in a vintage dress
and the heady fragrance of spies
on the veranda, a breakthrough,
i think i'll love you anyway
Sunday, March 01, 2009
the ekphrasis project
Give Me a Title, I'll Give You a Poem was a successful little project resulting in 27 original poems. each poem was written for the person who provided the title, and with the title the dedicated donated, naturally.
this is the squeal. give me i'll give you round 2
and here's how it's different: ekphrasis.
ekphrasis has many applications in the arts, and you can spend lots of time with wikipedia trudging through un-sited greekology. basically though, it's when one artists (be it writer, sculptor, singer, poet, bard, watercolorist, photographter, etc) attempts to capture the spirit of a piece of art from a medium other than their own in an original piece (in their own medium).
here's an example of some ekphrasis i've done
i love inspiration, so here's where you fit into the ekphrasis project: link me to a drawing or photograph online and i will write a poem to go with the visual.
if the picture or drawing has a title, i will use that first. if there's no title, you may create one, just like last time.
i will probably do one poem a day (not as swift a turn over as last time), but send me your images as soon as you can/want.
ekphras away!
this is the squeal. give me i'll give you round 2
and here's how it's different: ekphrasis.
ekphrasis has many applications in the arts, and you can spend lots of time with wikipedia trudging through un-sited greekology. basically though, it's when one artists (be it writer, sculptor, singer, poet, bard, watercolorist, photographter, etc) attempts to capture the spirit of a piece of art from a medium other than their own in an original piece (in their own medium).
here's an example of some ekphrasis i've done
i love inspiration, so here's where you fit into the ekphrasis project: link me to a drawing or photograph online and i will write a poem to go with the visual.
if the picture or drawing has a title, i will use that first. if there's no title, you may create one, just like last time.
i will probably do one poem a day (not as swift a turn over as last time), but send me your images as soon as you can/want.
ekphras away!
by the bird - ekphrasis 1
for john bell
an economy of star falls
freezing wages on the border
for the nesting patterns of squirrels
troubled with hiding trinkets
from owls and local authorities
with missions and research
into the mortality rate
of douglass furs
baring all fruit
to the goddess of lies
a small bird carves drawings
depicting the true nature
of life in the woods
when the stars go on strike.
an economy of star falls
freezing wages on the border
for the nesting patterns of squirrels
troubled with hiding trinkets
from owls and local authorities
with missions and research
into the mortality rate
of douglass furs
baring all fruit
to the goddess of lies
a small bird carves drawings
depicting the true nature
of life in the woods
when the stars go on strike.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
my little brother isn't little
in fact he's a hell of a lot taller than me, and he's 18 now!!!
in celebration of his old age, i made him these chocolate-chip cupcakes with cookie dough frosting.
in celebration of his old age, i made him these chocolate-chip cupcakes with cookie dough frosting.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
neck brace
the maroon around the left ear
holding the curious tilt
of a tea drinker in conversation
the milk matches the cream wool
woven with even hands
and brings out the white in her enamel
holding the curious tilt
of a tea drinker in conversation
the milk matches the cream wool
woven with even hands
and brings out the white in her enamel
the bull of the beautiful
for Ana-Maria Bell
there are beautiful people
singing beautiful songs
amidst the din of students between classes
papers rustling and a conversation
on the ethics of bull fighting
versus the cultural value
one singer stops because
she has an opinion
she is strongly opposed
and in her argument
she rides the pathos
of baby cows in spanish dress
there are beautiful people
singing beautiful songs
amidst the din of students between classes
papers rustling and a conversation
on the ethics of bull fighting
versus the cultural value
one singer stops because
she has an opinion
she is strongly opposed
and in her argument
she rides the pathos
of baby cows in spanish dress
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
broccoli cheddar soup
he held me like a child
as i wept just like one
over pennies we've saved
and the soup burning on the stove top
letting the world be my torture
i wish to fall asleep
so that when i wake
it will all be all better again
but fairies are not real
and the soup is still burning
as i wept just like one
over pennies we've saved
and the soup burning on the stove top
letting the world be my torture
i wish to fall asleep
so that when i wake
it will all be all better again
but fairies are not real
and the soup is still burning
Friday, February 20, 2009
how i got this wish coin
the eagle caught me off guard
when he asked me my nationality
i told him, American
but he persisted and asked again
what is your nationality?
so i told him, again, I am American
angry with my answer
he flew away
and as he ascended
he dropped a coin
and i heard him yell out,
make a wish or i won't come back
i still have it, i keep it in my pocket
but the eagle hasn't come back yet
when he asked me my nationality
i told him, American
but he persisted and asked again
what is your nationality?
so i told him, again, I am American
angry with my answer
he flew away
and as he ascended
he dropped a coin
and i heard him yell out,
make a wish or i won't come back
i still have it, i keep it in my pocket
but the eagle hasn't come back yet
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"Because someone has made up the word "wave," do I have to distinguish it from water?"
i want this
instead of dedicating 100% of my focus and attention on what i really ought to be doing, i decided to discover something. so i discovered Kabir. i want to study Kabir the poet and understand him and be able to quote him. why? because anything is better than working on this.
instead of dedicating 100% of my focus and attention on what i really ought to be doing, i decided to discover something. so i discovered Kabir. i want to study Kabir the poet and understand him and be able to quote him. why? because anything is better than working on this.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
new settings
new student settings
including new cutlery
and a change of curtain color
over the claw footed bath
all together forgetting
the drama that resided here
not weeks ago yet
including new cutlery
and a change of curtain color
over the claw footed bath
all together forgetting
the drama that resided here
not weeks ago yet
dream in
we float
in a boat on a sea
of sweet leaves
stuck on plywood stems
with carpenter's glue
you lean forward
to stretch your back
and feed in on
the rudder of my affections
flattering the scent
of your wisdom
at 7am on a sunday.
in a boat on a sea
of sweet leaves
stuck on plywood stems
with carpenter's glue
you lean forward
to stretch your back
and feed in on
the rudder of my affections
flattering the scent
of your wisdom
at 7am on a sunday.
erin has a whimsical dad
Erin spread the black current jam on the toast evenly from side to side and all the way to the edges. She hated to get a bite of toast without jam on, but she was far too economical to ditch the crusts. She’d heard on the radio once that women in Haiti ate cookies made of mud and grass. Just the thought made her queasy. She couldn’t save the world on her own, especially because her allowance was only enough to buy new stationary—on recycled paper of course—to write to her newest friend Janet, but at least she could be economical.
“DAAAAAAAAAAAADDY!” she hollered up the stair case to her dad, as the kettle started to whistle. She’d gotten really really good at making breakfast for her and her dad since her mom had left them a few months back. Erin had to be the strong one, she decided, because he dad was so busy with his research at the University in the city. She got really good at breakfast, except for pouring the boiling water—the steam was too hot—so she still needed her dad for something. She liked to think that her needing her dad a little bit for breakfast made him feel special. She always felt special when he asked her to help with his work, or with the laundry. They were a team.
Dr. Patel, Erin’s dad, rushed down the stairs to pour the water for the tea. His tie was loose around his neck and he’d only found one shoe so far. Erin had handled the divorce so well, it astounded him. He’d handled it pretty well too, he thought. Work helped. Erin helped.
“Toast again, sweety?” he asked gently, patting Erin on the head as he poured two cups of extra-hot tea. “You’re off to your friend’s tonight, is that right?”
“Yes. And you are going to pick me up at the Smith’s tomorrow at lunch time. Right?” She was always having to remind him about the little things, but she thought it was sort of charming. She hoped that the Smith’s wouldn’t mind her dad’s absent minded way because he was such a good scientist.
Turns out, the Smith’s didn’t mind at all. They didn’t mind having to wait while Erin called her dad at the University to ask him to fax a note to her school saying that she was allowed to go home with the Smith’s instead of going home with her after-school nanny because he’d forgotten to sign the note in her bag. They didn’t mind him calling twice late at night, once to ask Erin where the remote control to the telle was and the second time to wish her goodnight… at 11:30pm. They didn’t even mind that he’d locked his keys in his car and wouldn’t be able to pick her up before the Smith’s lunch engagements—they just dropped her off on their way.
Janet told Erin that she thought her dad was whimsical. Erin thought whimsical was a great word. She also thought that whimsical wasn’t the best thing for a single dad of a 6 year old girl to be.
“Daddy…”
“Yes, sweety? What’s wrong?” Dr. Patel turned The Iron Chef off and turned to his little daughter.
“I was thinking about what makes a family.” She waited to see how he’d react. She knew she’d need to stop if he looked too upset. “You know, not that we’re not a great family, because daddy we’re really great.”
He took her hand and waited for her to go on. He was so proud that his little girl was so mature, despite the terribly immature way he and his ex-wife had acted around her since she was born.
“Well, the Smith’s are a family too. They’re a really great family too. I am not saying that one family is better than the other, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Just… Daddy, I think because there are only two people in our family, and there are four in theirs, and all those animals, well, I think they don’t have to work as hard to be a great family.”
“But we do have to work hard, don’t we?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry sweety. I think you work really hard to make us a great family. Maybe I could work harder too.”
“No Daddy, you’re a really hard worker. I don’t think you can work any harder.”
“So… what do you think we can do? Think we could use a holiday?” he smiled, he would love to go on holiday!
Erin smiled back at her dad, he was so whimsical some times. “No, daddy! You’re so funny!” Erin giggled.
“So what do you think would make us a better family?”
Erin paused for dramatic effect, she just new her dad was going to love this idea… “A DOG!”
“DAAAAAAAAAAAADDY!” she hollered up the stair case to her dad, as the kettle started to whistle. She’d gotten really really good at making breakfast for her and her dad since her mom had left them a few months back. Erin had to be the strong one, she decided, because he dad was so busy with his research at the University in the city. She got really good at breakfast, except for pouring the boiling water—the steam was too hot—so she still needed her dad for something. She liked to think that her needing her dad a little bit for breakfast made him feel special. She always felt special when he asked her to help with his work, or with the laundry. They were a team.
Dr. Patel, Erin’s dad, rushed down the stairs to pour the water for the tea. His tie was loose around his neck and he’d only found one shoe so far. Erin had handled the divorce so well, it astounded him. He’d handled it pretty well too, he thought. Work helped. Erin helped.
“Toast again, sweety?” he asked gently, patting Erin on the head as he poured two cups of extra-hot tea. “You’re off to your friend’s tonight, is that right?”
“Yes. And you are going to pick me up at the Smith’s tomorrow at lunch time. Right?” She was always having to remind him about the little things, but she thought it was sort of charming. She hoped that the Smith’s wouldn’t mind her dad’s absent minded way because he was such a good scientist.
Turns out, the Smith’s didn’t mind at all. They didn’t mind having to wait while Erin called her dad at the University to ask him to fax a note to her school saying that she was allowed to go home with the Smith’s instead of going home with her after-school nanny because he’d forgotten to sign the note in her bag. They didn’t mind him calling twice late at night, once to ask Erin where the remote control to the telle was and the second time to wish her goodnight… at 11:30pm. They didn’t even mind that he’d locked his keys in his car and wouldn’t be able to pick her up before the Smith’s lunch engagements—they just dropped her off on their way.
Janet told Erin that she thought her dad was whimsical. Erin thought whimsical was a great word. She also thought that whimsical wasn’t the best thing for a single dad of a 6 year old girl to be.
“Daddy…”
“Yes, sweety? What’s wrong?” Dr. Patel turned The Iron Chef off and turned to his little daughter.
“I was thinking about what makes a family.” She waited to see how he’d react. She knew she’d need to stop if he looked too upset. “You know, not that we’re not a great family, because daddy we’re really great.”
He took her hand and waited for her to go on. He was so proud that his little girl was so mature, despite the terribly immature way he and his ex-wife had acted around her since she was born.
“Well, the Smith’s are a family too. They’re a really great family too. I am not saying that one family is better than the other, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Just… Daddy, I think because there are only two people in our family, and there are four in theirs, and all those animals, well, I think they don’t have to work as hard to be a great family.”
“But we do have to work hard, don’t we?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry sweety. I think you work really hard to make us a great family. Maybe I could work harder too.”
“No Daddy, you’re a really hard worker. I don’t think you can work any harder.”
“So… what do you think we can do? Think we could use a holiday?” he smiled, he would love to go on holiday!
Erin smiled back at her dad, he was so whimsical some times. “No, daddy! You’re so funny!” Erin giggled.
“So what do you think would make us a better family?”
Erin paused for dramatic effect, she just new her dad was going to love this idea… “A DOG!”
Saturday, February 14, 2009
happy valentine's day 2
i had a really great valentine's day. first of all, i got to sleep in until noon (or was it later than that?). when i finally got up, ryan offered to fix me a cup of tea--which he never does, but it's valentine's day so he was being extra sweet.
i had some breakfast and had been in the kitchen about half an hour before i realized all the dishes were done. the stove was even cleaned!! ryan got up early and cleaned everything; a whole week's worth of dishes!! this made me happy. i am actually still happy because of this. ^_^
then ryan, matt, erin and i went to Two Brother's (where i work) for lunch/dinner (i brought everyone mini cupcakes, as i'd promised). then we went bowling, which was a lot of fun, and detoured into the candy store on the way home.
now everyone's over, and we're going to watch 300. a lovely ending ^_^
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
i am the ant
i am the ant
that which nature made me
an army of strength
i carry you with me
the heavy, the light,
the dark and the forgiving
that which nature made me
an army of strength
i carry you with me
the heavy, the light,
the dark and the forgiving
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
lists of stuff - and i'm in them
at http://www.shadowofiris.com/, Matt's compiling lists of "worthy" poetics/poetry/creative wonderment, and by golly, he's included me. twice.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Saturday, February 07, 2009
taste testing
our friend Jared came home from boot camp for the week, so i decided to take the opportunity of having people over to experiment.
i made whole wheat buttermilk lemon pancakes:
the Pancakes were pretty good, but not as good as my regular buttermilk pancakes. also, i used 3 cups of buttermilk, instead of 2 and a half cups.
blueberry syrup:
the Syrup is really really nice... if you really like blueberries. next time (and there will be a next time), i plan on cooking the berries longer so it doesn't come out quiet so runny.
and spicy chocolate chunk cookies:
the cookies are awesome. i am going to try another batch with no cinnamon, just cayenne. we'll see how that comes out.
i made whole wheat buttermilk lemon pancakes:
the Pancakes were pretty good, but not as good as my regular buttermilk pancakes. also, i used 3 cups of buttermilk, instead of 2 and a half cups.
blueberry syrup:
the Syrup is really really nice... if you really like blueberries. next time (and there will be a next time), i plan on cooking the berries longer so it doesn't come out quiet so runny.
and spicy chocolate chunk cookies:
the cookies are awesome. i am going to try another batch with no cinnamon, just cayenne. we'll see how that comes out.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Bleddyn Gway
and again with the prose...
Bleddyn dropped his bags on the top step and looked up at the gutted factory building in front of him. Red Welsh brick, built by Welsh working hands. The stench of the bay swept passed him in gusts, reminding him how much he utterly despised the sea. How much he despised brick. And clocks.
The building had been remodeled to accommodate a collage of colorful low-income renters—single mothers, students, his brother. Since the textiles industry faded from prominence, more and more people started living in places never meant for living. No parking, cold metal railings everywhere, ornamental clocks that don’t keep the time and far too close to the stinking sea.
He pulled down the plastic case covering the bells and pushed the button labeled “Gway”. Number 14.
No answer. Figures.
Bleddyn sat next to his bags and reminded himself of all the other stuff he hated. He hated women, he hated coffee drinkers, he hated email, phones, people with phones, buttons, zips, anything practical, anything impractical. Shit. He hated everything. Fortunately, he was able to focus all of that hate on his queer little brother who, unfortunately, wasn’t even home for him to hate directly. Bleddyn just sat there, thinking hateful thoughts towards the ginger bastard.
And then the door opened. And what he saw was unlikely, repulsive and sort of beautiful. A young woman in a dress opened the door, unprompted, and looked down at him—the displeased lump of human being squatting on the front step of her building. What repulsed Bleddyn wasn’t the woman herself, but the dress. Why the fuck was she dressed in an Elizabethan gown? If she’d just been dressed in jeans and a top he’d have been able to hate her, like he hated everything else. But she wasn’t dressed normally, she was in a gown. He wanted to hate her so much for it, for denying him easy-to-dismiss hatred that he’d been growing accustomed to, but he couldn’t hate her the same way he hated old clocks. She was beautiful and probably mentally unhinged.
“Um, hi.”
“Do you want to come in? Do you know someone who lives here?”
“Why are you wearing that dress?” He didn’t move from his slumped position. He couldn’t. He was paralyzed with disgust and wonder.
She smiled. Goddamn it she smiled at him. Goddamn her, she’s pretty. He was hopeless.
He sort of smiled back. He hated women. He hated her, and her breasts. Goddamn women and gowns. “It’s, um, nice. Sparkly.” She smiled at him again. “A bit… unusual though?”
She stepped out onto the step beside him and sat close enough that he could smell her. She smelled like a woman, like a woman who used nice shower products. He hated women, and showers. It occurred to him that he hadn’t bathed in about four days and probably smelt worse than the sea. He shuffled away from her. He hated himself.
“Um, are you okay?”
“yeah.” He wasn’t okay. Where the hell was is brother and why the hell was she wearing that terrible gown? “where’d you get it?”
“hun?”
“Your dress… where’d you get it? You an actress or something?”
“Oh, no, I’m not an actress.” She smiled again and he cringed despite himself. “Are you sure you’re alright? You want to come in? Tea?”
“Why are you wearing it?”
She stood up and unlocked the front door. “Come on.”
He hated her, he hated himself, and most of all he hated his brother.
And though he hated everything and everyone, he followed this girl into her apartment and let her heal him. Let him forget why he’d come to see his brother and forget about the clocks and the phones and the sea. Let him undress her, though he still had no idea why she’d worn the gown in the first place. He convinced himself that she’d just lost a bet or some utterly mundane and normal thing. He let himself think she was something sort of normal, and that it was entirely normal to follow a stranger in an Elizabethan gown into her apartment and stay there for two years.
Bleddyn dropped his bags on the top step and looked up at the gutted factory building in front of him. Red Welsh brick, built by Welsh working hands. The stench of the bay swept passed him in gusts, reminding him how much he utterly despised the sea. How much he despised brick. And clocks.
The building had been remodeled to accommodate a collage of colorful low-income renters—single mothers, students, his brother. Since the textiles industry faded from prominence, more and more people started living in places never meant for living. No parking, cold metal railings everywhere, ornamental clocks that don’t keep the time and far too close to the stinking sea.
He pulled down the plastic case covering the bells and pushed the button labeled “Gway”. Number 14.
No answer. Figures.
Bleddyn sat next to his bags and reminded himself of all the other stuff he hated. He hated women, he hated coffee drinkers, he hated email, phones, people with phones, buttons, zips, anything practical, anything impractical. Shit. He hated everything. Fortunately, he was able to focus all of that hate on his queer little brother who, unfortunately, wasn’t even home for him to hate directly. Bleddyn just sat there, thinking hateful thoughts towards the ginger bastard.
And then the door opened. And what he saw was unlikely, repulsive and sort of beautiful. A young woman in a dress opened the door, unprompted, and looked down at him—the displeased lump of human being squatting on the front step of her building. What repulsed Bleddyn wasn’t the woman herself, but the dress. Why the fuck was she dressed in an Elizabethan gown? If she’d just been dressed in jeans and a top he’d have been able to hate her, like he hated everything else. But she wasn’t dressed normally, she was in a gown. He wanted to hate her so much for it, for denying him easy-to-dismiss hatred that he’d been growing accustomed to, but he couldn’t hate her the same way he hated old clocks. She was beautiful and probably mentally unhinged.
“Um, hi.”
“Do you want to come in? Do you know someone who lives here?”
“Why are you wearing that dress?” He didn’t move from his slumped position. He couldn’t. He was paralyzed with disgust and wonder.
She smiled. Goddamn it she smiled at him. Goddamn her, she’s pretty. He was hopeless.
He sort of smiled back. He hated women. He hated her, and her breasts. Goddamn women and gowns. “It’s, um, nice. Sparkly.” She smiled at him again. “A bit… unusual though?”
She stepped out onto the step beside him and sat close enough that he could smell her. She smelled like a woman, like a woman who used nice shower products. He hated women, and showers. It occurred to him that he hadn’t bathed in about four days and probably smelt worse than the sea. He shuffled away from her. He hated himself.
“Um, are you okay?”
“yeah.” He wasn’t okay. Where the hell was is brother and why the hell was she wearing that terrible gown? “where’d you get it?”
“hun?”
“Your dress… where’d you get it? You an actress or something?”
“Oh, no, I’m not an actress.” She smiled again and he cringed despite himself. “Are you sure you’re alright? You want to come in? Tea?”
“Why are you wearing it?”
She stood up and unlocked the front door. “Come on.”
He hated her, he hated himself, and most of all he hated his brother.
And though he hated everything and everyone, he followed this girl into her apartment and let her heal him. Let him forget why he’d come to see his brother and forget about the clocks and the phones and the sea. Let him undress her, though he still had no idea why she’d worn the gown in the first place. He convinced himself that she’d just lost a bet or some utterly mundane and normal thing. He let himself think she was something sort of normal, and that it was entirely normal to follow a stranger in an Elizabethan gown into her apartment and stay there for two years.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
the smiths
how about some fiction for a change? it happens oh so very very rarely. enjoy!
***
Mr. and Mrs. Smith grew up together. She was the Mary Jane to his Peter Parker all through secondary school. They shared a secret life together, even as very young children. When it was uncool, at the age of 7, to play with girls, Mr. Smith still went over to Mrs. Smith’s to color and make up stories with her. It was around that age—the distinctly uncool age to be with the opposite sex—that Mr. and Mrs. Smith promised to marry each other, and shared their very first kiss.
There were rough patches in their relationship, as in any. For example, Mrs. Smith went through a particularly academic phase while away at a big, snobby (in Mr. Smith’s opinion anyway) university where her dreams were filled with philosophical musings. Meanwhile, Mr. Smith apprenticed at a mechanical engineering firm which specialized in motion-sensor soap dispensers while attending night classes at a small, local college. At this time, they both saw other people.
They saw each other at the holidays, when Mrs. Smith came home. They humored each other with pleasantries, but learned how distinctly incompatible they really were. Though sweethearts, and terribly fond of one another, Mr. and Mrs. Smith expected different things from life. Mr. Smith wanted to invest in property while the market was good. Mrs. Smith wanted to travel obscure corners of the globe. Mr. Smith had a steady job, a car, drank coffee he made at home each morning, and enjoyed Douglass Adams novels. Mrs. Smith had two degrees in the humanities, a friend with a cottage in Greece, drank matte yerba after a long night of political discussion with visiting scholars and spent a lot of money on odd looking shoes.
Both lovely in their own respects. Both secretly admiring the strength and fearlessness of the other.
There was one whimsical summer romance between Mr. and Mrs. Smith. But as the leaves changed color and the cold set in, Mrs. Smith grew restless and Mr. Smith grew tired of her fancies. They split again.
They had, at once, given up on each other and dismissed their promise to one another of marriage in a heated battle of words and one unfortunate platter which, at the time, was covered in an array of sticky cheeses which, try as they might have, could not keep the platter from shattering into a significantly large number of small pieces. The carpet also suffered from the incident.
After many years of dissonance, Mr. and Mrs. Smith came upon each other in an office of all places.
This little office belonged to a coroner. This coroner, whose office was set adjacent to the hospital where both Mr. and Mrs. Smith had been seen into this world, had asked both Mr. and Mrs. Smith into his office to confirm the identify a body.
In the weeks previously, Mr. and Mrs. Smith had both reported a missing person; a close friend each had, very separately, kept in touch with over the years. This friend was called Janet. Mr. Smith walked Janet’s odd collection of dogs several times each week in exchange for the use of her garage where he kept the parts he was collecting to build his dream super car. Mrs. Smith had read the travel journals Janet wrote as a young woman and they spoke extensively over the phone after every one of Mrs. Smith’s adventures abroad.
Mr. Smith noticed Janet wasn’t home one Thursday afternoon and that her dogs hadn’t been fed. Needless to say, Mr. Smith took care of the animals, and as a second day passed and Janet had not been seen, Mr. Smith reported the woman missing.
Although she was miles away, Mrs. Smith had also noticed Janet’s absence. The two had arranged to speak the day after Mrs. Smith’s return from Botswana. Janet never missed an opportunity to speak with Mrs. Smith about her adventures. After several days of no answer to her phone calls, Mrs. Smith phoned the local authorities, asking if they would check in on the woman to see she was alright.
As surprised as Mr. and Mrs. Smith were to see each other after so many years of silence, they were equally surprised to see that the woman under the white sheet on the coroner’s table was indeed their mutual friend Janet.
They never found out what happened to Janet.
But they did some catching up, adopted Janet’s odd collection of dogs together, and invited Janet’s sisters to their wedding reception which took place a mere three months after Janet’s mysterious death.
They honeymooned in Greece and Mr. Smith got his super car running just three days prior to the birth of their first child.
***
***
Mr. and Mrs. Smith grew up together. She was the Mary Jane to his Peter Parker all through secondary school. They shared a secret life together, even as very young children. When it was uncool, at the age of 7, to play with girls, Mr. Smith still went over to Mrs. Smith’s to color and make up stories with her. It was around that age—the distinctly uncool age to be with the opposite sex—that Mr. and Mrs. Smith promised to marry each other, and shared their very first kiss.
There were rough patches in their relationship, as in any. For example, Mrs. Smith went through a particularly academic phase while away at a big, snobby (in Mr. Smith’s opinion anyway) university where her dreams were filled with philosophical musings. Meanwhile, Mr. Smith apprenticed at a mechanical engineering firm which specialized in motion-sensor soap dispensers while attending night classes at a small, local college. At this time, they both saw other people.
They saw each other at the holidays, when Mrs. Smith came home. They humored each other with pleasantries, but learned how distinctly incompatible they really were. Though sweethearts, and terribly fond of one another, Mr. and Mrs. Smith expected different things from life. Mr. Smith wanted to invest in property while the market was good. Mrs. Smith wanted to travel obscure corners of the globe. Mr. Smith had a steady job, a car, drank coffee he made at home each morning, and enjoyed Douglass Adams novels. Mrs. Smith had two degrees in the humanities, a friend with a cottage in Greece, drank matte yerba after a long night of political discussion with visiting scholars and spent a lot of money on odd looking shoes.
Both lovely in their own respects. Both secretly admiring the strength and fearlessness of the other.
There was one whimsical summer romance between Mr. and Mrs. Smith. But as the leaves changed color and the cold set in, Mrs. Smith grew restless and Mr. Smith grew tired of her fancies. They split again.
They had, at once, given up on each other and dismissed their promise to one another of marriage in a heated battle of words and one unfortunate platter which, at the time, was covered in an array of sticky cheeses which, try as they might have, could not keep the platter from shattering into a significantly large number of small pieces. The carpet also suffered from the incident.
After many years of dissonance, Mr. and Mrs. Smith came upon each other in an office of all places.
This little office belonged to a coroner. This coroner, whose office was set adjacent to the hospital where both Mr. and Mrs. Smith had been seen into this world, had asked both Mr. and Mrs. Smith into his office to confirm the identify a body.
In the weeks previously, Mr. and Mrs. Smith had both reported a missing person; a close friend each had, very separately, kept in touch with over the years. This friend was called Janet. Mr. Smith walked Janet’s odd collection of dogs several times each week in exchange for the use of her garage where he kept the parts he was collecting to build his dream super car. Mrs. Smith had read the travel journals Janet wrote as a young woman and they spoke extensively over the phone after every one of Mrs. Smith’s adventures abroad.
Mr. Smith noticed Janet wasn’t home one Thursday afternoon and that her dogs hadn’t been fed. Needless to say, Mr. Smith took care of the animals, and as a second day passed and Janet had not been seen, Mr. Smith reported the woman missing.
Although she was miles away, Mrs. Smith had also noticed Janet’s absence. The two had arranged to speak the day after Mrs. Smith’s return from Botswana. Janet never missed an opportunity to speak with Mrs. Smith about her adventures. After several days of no answer to her phone calls, Mrs. Smith phoned the local authorities, asking if they would check in on the woman to see she was alright.
As surprised as Mr. and Mrs. Smith were to see each other after so many years of silence, they were equally surprised to see that the woman under the white sheet on the coroner’s table was indeed their mutual friend Janet.
They never found out what happened to Janet.
But they did some catching up, adopted Janet’s odd collection of dogs together, and invited Janet’s sisters to their wedding reception which took place a mere three months after Janet’s mysterious death.
They honeymooned in Greece and Mr. Smith got his super car running just three days prior to the birth of their first child.
***
Monday, February 02, 2009
king cake stressed fassion
this morning, walking down the hall
of this dilapidated university
the toes of my shoes wet from slush
with my coat swung upon
a vision of academia, two magazines
littered to the brim with day dreams
fantasy low-residency MFA programs
daring to hang from the fingers of one hand
and in the other, a cup of earl gray
too hot to drink, or to hold tight
anxiety ridden over words i care not to write
but more for the words i need to write
the ones that no one pays much attention to,
but to call myself a poet...
of this dilapidated university
the toes of my shoes wet from slush
with my coat swung upon
a vision of academia, two magazines
littered to the brim with day dreams
fantasy low-residency MFA programs
daring to hang from the fingers of one hand
and in the other, a cup of earl gray
too hot to drink, or to hold tight
anxiety ridden over words i care not to write
but more for the words i need to write
the ones that no one pays much attention to,
but to call myself a poet...
Sunday, February 01, 2009
baked eggs
i don't claim the statues of "foodie", though i use it on a whim to describe my husbee. he does, after all, refer to his copy of "Hamburger America" as "the bible". as in "Katy, do you know where my bible is?".
instead, i am something else in relation to food... an eater? an emotional, out of control, gimme more eater. i was a fat kid, my mom is/was a yo-yo dieter at an opra level of wow she's big, wow she's thin.
growing up, i lived on comfort foods. fatty, sugary, wonderful food. because of that born-into habit with food (we could also call it lots of little bad habits), i had a love-hate relationship with food. i know so many people can relate to this.
so i'm out for a change. well, i have been out for a change for a little while now as a matter of fact. it's not easy though, working at an ice cream shop in the summer and a pizza place all year round (yum), but it's so worth it.
i've been trying new recipes. wait. no. i've been trying recipes, full stop. and i don't just mean baking. i mean, actually cooking stuff.
i'm still honing my roasted vegetable skills (what spices and herbs to use, for example), and my crock-pot still only makes two things: minestrone, and meatballs.
to research new ideas, i've been grazing the pages of foodgawker. though i drool a lot over the tasty goodies, i've learned that there's no limit to food.
take eggs for example. the incredible, edible egg. there are just as many ways to prepare eggs as there are blogs about food. e.i. everyone with a food blog has had a go at eggs.
i decided, then, that i would try something different with eggs today.
these, are baked eggs.
i don't know if i'll jump at the next chance to make them, but they were tasty and easy and really filling. kind of like an omelette in a ramekin.
i combined a couple of different recipes i found online (on blogs via foodgawker). essentially though, there's a slice of de-crusted, buttered whole wheat bread around the edge of the ramekin, which was then loaded with turkey bacon (a slice each), chopped tomato (i used the little ones, 'cause they taste better), some chopped sweet onion, an egg (i broke my yolk, 'cause i don't like it gooey, but left ryan's because he does like it gooey), and some shredded mozzarella cheese to finish it off. then i baked them for about 15 minutes at 375. Ta-Da!
there's also a recipe i want to try without the bread, which is using ham in a muffin tin, filled with egg. like a little... ham and egg cupcake. odd, but interesting.
instead, i am something else in relation to food... an eater? an emotional, out of control, gimme more eater. i was a fat kid, my mom is/was a yo-yo dieter at an opra level of wow she's big, wow she's thin.
growing up, i lived on comfort foods. fatty, sugary, wonderful food. because of that born-into habit with food (we could also call it lots of little bad habits), i had a love-hate relationship with food. i know so many people can relate to this.
so i'm out for a change. well, i have been out for a change for a little while now as a matter of fact. it's not easy though, working at an ice cream shop in the summer and a pizza place all year round (yum), but it's so worth it.
i've been trying new recipes. wait. no. i've been trying recipes, full stop. and i don't just mean baking. i mean, actually cooking stuff.
i'm still honing my roasted vegetable skills (what spices and herbs to use, for example), and my crock-pot still only makes two things: minestrone, and meatballs.
to research new ideas, i've been grazing the pages of foodgawker. though i drool a lot over the tasty goodies, i've learned that there's no limit to food.
take eggs for example. the incredible, edible egg. there are just as many ways to prepare eggs as there are blogs about food. e.i. everyone with a food blog has had a go at eggs.
i decided, then, that i would try something different with eggs today.
these, are baked eggs.
i don't know if i'll jump at the next chance to make them, but they were tasty and easy and really filling. kind of like an omelette in a ramekin.
i combined a couple of different recipes i found online (on blogs via foodgawker). essentially though, there's a slice of de-crusted, buttered whole wheat bread around the edge of the ramekin, which was then loaded with turkey bacon (a slice each), chopped tomato (i used the little ones, 'cause they taste better), some chopped sweet onion, an egg (i broke my yolk, 'cause i don't like it gooey, but left ryan's because he does like it gooey), and some shredded mozzarella cheese to finish it off. then i baked them for about 15 minutes at 375. Ta-Da!
there's also a recipe i want to try without the bread, which is using ham in a muffin tin, filled with egg. like a little... ham and egg cupcake. odd, but interesting.
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