the 3Day

Day 1

at 3:30am waiting for my ride...

 

With Kendal, Julie and Janice

 

Camp...

 

Day 2

Looking fabulous all day in my floppy hat and fancy sunglasses...

Day 3

With Dan & Moose - my favorite cheerers...

 

Myself, Julie and Janice with our victory shirts...



 

Boston Strong Tired...

 

 Only one tiny blister, which gave me no bother...

 

 

The End



summer pie

the first step to making a perfect summer pie is picking the fruit.  you can buy the sugar if you're in the north.  but you must visit a farm for your best ingredients. eggs. milk.

the pastry takes time. the pastry is likely to fail you at first. the pastry takes practice, but you have it in you.  fold the butter.  flour the pin. roll. cut.

"no soggy bottoms," from mary berry, with love.

apply love and attention to detail, but don't use a ruler. you don't want it looking so good, no one wants to cut the first peice.

(drabble 28 out of 31)

she keeps winning him

he woke up to the sound of morning commuters.  horns honking, pedestrians shouting.  a hammer or a wood pecker? he was shivering from a cold breeze. the window in the living room was wide open over the fire escape.  his hair was sticky from sweat.  his teeth felt fuzzy from all the cookies and cakes and coffee from the night before.  his knees were stiff from sleeping on a sofa. 

he felt old, dirty, cold and hungry. 

he wanted to go back in time, to before he lost everything.

but then the scent of café and toast won him over. 

(drabble 27 out of 31)

the bake off

his shirt was hung to dry, and she insisted it would need to be ironed.  so he had no choice.  he had to stay.  but for this he was grateful.  he had nowhere else to go.

so he stayed.

and they spent the time it took for a fine linen shirt to dry in a small humid apartment by competing in the kitchen.  specifically, they held a two-person bake off.  he made chocolate chip cookies with ground espresso and a dash of cayenne.  she made zesty lemon madeleines. 

they agreed to a tie.  another competition would need to take place.

(drabble 26 out of 31)

hand washed

he watched carefully as the young woman thrust his fine linen shirt in and out of the sink basin.  she'd filled the sink with hot water and woolite to wash it. 

he watched her, gave her his full attention, ignoring the café between his hands.  the fine china warming to nearly unbearably hot in his hands. 

her knuckles grew redder with each dunk into the hot, soapy water. 

he held back the threat of tears and the lump in his throat. 

she rang the water out of the shirt and hung it up over a makeshift line in the lounge.



(drabble 25 out of 31)

his last shirt

he watched a young woman remove his three hundred euro shirt from the grungy laundromat machine.  it was his last shirt.  he was paralyzed from saving it.  he watches as she unfurled it. the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown before she looked around, holding the shirt out in front of her.  paralyzed and embarrassed.  everything was falling apart. his marriage, his house, his job, and now his simple attempt to do laundry.  he knew he'd ruined his last good shirt. but he didn't know that the woman who held it was about to change his luck.

(drabble 24 out of 31)

early morning news

dan woke up to the smell of bacon. irresistible. he rolled over on his pillow, still sleepy.  he read the clock and rubbed his eyes.  as he clobbered down the stairs in his dressing gown the scent of coffee accompanied him.  

 

sissy was there, slippers and hair pinned back with a spatula in her hand, frying mushrooms and eggs in the pan while the bacon cooked in the open oven.

 

"this is lovely, sweetie..."  he wrapped his arms around her from behind, "but it's only 5am..."

 

she turned around, smiled and spoke in the clearest possible speech, "dan, we're pregnant."

a very true story

there is an orange cat. he is six years old and he lives in a house with two humans and two other cats. this house has a kitchen, which the humans built out of parts they bought from a store called ikea. there are many drawers. after many years of failed attempts, the orange cat has finally worked out exactly how much strength is required to pull a drawer open. he pulls the drawer open.  there are plastic forks and paper plates in the drawer. the orange cat opens the drawer, and then gets in.  and he sits there.  happily.

things

there were piles of them.  some covered in a shell of hard cardboard.  others glossy.  some stuffed.  some finished.  some unfinished.  some never started.  adventures. mysteries. love stories. paper clips hold places. folded ears mark favorite verses. the titles. the authors. the lonely and the popular. multiple volumes and missing parts. stains from tears and surprising rain storms. one wetted from a flood after a hurricane.  some with spines bent apart and broken.  some pristine, kept clean and new inside clear plastic. notes scribbled inside them. love and questions.  victories and defeats.  truth and lies.  intertwined by bards on pages. 

the whale museum is a real place

there is a museum for kids. a museum for science. a museum for arts. a museum for performing arts. a museum for sculpture. a museum for the history of science. a museum for history of sculpture. a museum for planes. a museum for harps. a museum for Hollywood. a museum for communism and tetris. a museum for war. a museum for rugs. a museum for doctors. and a museum for trees. a museum for glass flowers. a museum for cookies. a museum for natives. a museum for paper. and a museum for whales. there is a museum for everything here.

 

 

pick up line

it was not the best way to meet a girl, to spill coffee all over her.  but it seemed to work for Leo.  this was the second time he'd mindlessly bumped into a women of his own age at the local café and spilt both his and her coffee between the two of them.  it created such a hot mess that all anyone could ever do was laugh and clean up.  those awkward little moments of dabbling napkins on stained blouses proved valuable for chatting up.  both times he'd caused the incident, and both times he'd left with a number.

whipped cream

she carefully scraped the edges of the stainless steel bowl with the long handled silver spoon, collecting every last delicious splatter of whipped cream.  she licked the spoon between turns around the inside of the bowl.  she savored every molecule.  she closed her eyes.  she licked her teeth.  nothing ever tasted so genuine. so true. so believable as this cream.  nothing added but air from a hand-held electric whisk.  it had been so long.  there had been nothing like it there.  it had been years since she tasted real cream.  there was no room for cows on the space station.

seemingly perfect

every house on main street has window boxes filled with various-colored pansies.  the mail boxes are hand painted.  the houses are numbered in predictable sequence. every lawn in raked and mowed regularly.  children play basketball or jump rope in the driveways.  well trained dogs sit happily on decks or under the bushes by front doors.  joggers use the sidewalks and wave hello to each other as they pass.  drivers stop their cars at each stop line, wait for passer-bys and proceed at the posted speed.  it all seems perfect.

 

but no one who lives on main street likes their neighbors.

Opossum Castle

the snow-capped mountain is named the Opossum Castle.  opossum means white beast in the native language of the valley.  some stories are told to children to frighten them; stories about half sized people who live in the castle on top of the mountain.  they are covered in beautiful white hair.  they hunt yeti and pray to shapes in the clouds.  they rule close to the sky, closer to the gods and spirits than any of the valley's most prestigious shamans. the mountain sits like a precious jewel in the crown of the mountain range.  this range that spans the continent. 

cloud chaser

sophie stole her neighbors dingy last Saturday, not out of spite for them, but out of necessity for the dingy.  the mountains obscured her view of a particular cloud that had been morphing from one animal to another to another to another. she had been watching it tell a story all morning.

 

she didn't anticipate how heavy the dingy would be to drag off the beach. 

 

by the time she got the boat in the water and herself in the boat, it was too late to realize she had no paddles, and the dingy was already adrift in the lake.

 

earl grey

at the dim little bar in town they are known not for their beer taps, their fine wine selection, or the top row of elaborate bottles filled with an array of sickeningly bright-colored liquids inside that turn the heart to a steely resolve over matters of marital strifes and bad business deals that no one ever orders.  they're not know for the bands that play every week night to drown out the sound of clanging and banging in the kitchen where they prepare unremarkable foods for unremarkable guests.

 

at the dim little bar in town, locals order the earl grey. 

flowers

i took the camera out into the garden today and took some pretty pictures of my bluebells, strawberry plants, the double take scarlet storm, and my flower box pansies.

the backgammon games

every sunday afternoon some elderly women and men set up their backgammon tables around the duck ponds in the park. they play for plastic coins. at the end of the day, the player with the most coins gets a free pint of larger from the local pub. then the coins are redistributed, the tables are folded up and put away into the trunks of small cars and the baskets of bikes. they will do the same again the following week, and the week after that, and the week after that, and so on, as long as the weather is good.

the incident

to protect him from the storm, they allowed a horse into a local book store.  this was not the best idea.  not for the horse.  and certainly not for the book store. 

the horse, albeit happy to be out of the storm, was claustrophobic.  being caught in such fine quarters exacerbated his condition.  this lead to some rather unfortunate frothing and kicking.

the book store suffered from both the frothing and from the kicking.  the romance novels are, to this day, still not recovered from the incident.

in effect from that incident on, no horses are permitted into book stores.

beets

muriel grew many vegetables on her farm, which lay between the north village and the lake lands.  she was best known for the quality of her beats, both red and gold.  chefs from villages near and far sought to buy her beats to present to diners in salads and as accompaniments to the fresh-water scallops and lamb shanks they liked to serve.  last year, muriel received an award for exceptional quality from the farmers' association for her beets.  she was very proud of her beets.  however, she wished someone would notice all the work she put in to growing turnips.

shapes in the clouds

yesterday morning ben woke up late, made himself a pot of coffee, and looked out over the lake.  he was surprised to see a row boat floating aimlessly on the water.  he could see no one in it.

curious, he set out in his own small boat towards the wayward vessel.  he hoped he would be able to bring it in and return it to whomever it belonged.

he did not expect to fall in love.

then, no one ever does.

ben especially did not expect to fall in love with the girl lying at the bottom of the boat.

Betty's Donut Cart

Norman and his wife Beatrice once owned a full-blown bakery.  they were younger then and had the energy to be up early and keep up with the demand of the village's bread needs.  the couple grew tired and successful, and so they sold their bakery to a new young couple who were eager and restless for work. Norman and Beatrice took some time off.  they visited other villages.  they spent time in the city.  but all that visiting made them homesick.  homesick for their kitchen, their ovens, clouds of bread flour. that's when they decided to open the donut cart. 

the grassy foothills

couples gather on the foothills at the shallow-rising base of the mountain range for picnics in the spring time. men bring their dogs there for leisurely hikes.  women bring their children there to let out some bottled energy - preserved over the long, white winter here.  artists line up along the edge of parking lots with easels and battery-powered radios that only pick up the national weather service and an off-shore pirate station.  poets fall asleep under blossoming trees. bees discover new flowers where last year's had withered.  a ranger watches over the flocking people.  watching out for that bear.   

louise in the library

light shines in through the front window of the City South Library in the early evening.  in summer, the light casts long boxes over shelves of unsorted books, returned by readers and waiting to be placed back in order.

 

keen-eyed passers by will notice the silhouette of a feline etched out of the bottom few boxes of light.  this is the shadow of a white cat with blue eyes.  she is nicknamed Louise.  she came to the library on a warm winter morning, the same warm winter morning before The Great Blizzard.

 

she has lived in the library ever since. 

 

extra extra

 

he pours himself a thermos of hot coffee and pulls an orange beany over his ears to keep warm.  before anyone else in the village wakes, he has to make his rounds, delivering black and white printed newspapers to every neighborhood home and apartment. 

the village paper is gratis.  it's free.  and everyone expects everyone else to read it.

he never reads it.  everyone assumes he does. sipping from his thermos of coffee as he throws copies out of his truck window. 

he leaves whole bundles of papers at the train station and in front of the three local cafes.

 

local gossip

the blond haired girl that works the espresso bar at the big-name-bookstore around the corner has six tattoos.  there's one she never shows anyone.  it's the one she warns boyfriends about.  and it's the reason she always wears one piece bathing suit. 

 

the blond haired girl that works the help desk at the big-name-bookstore around the corner doesn't have any tattoos.  she does have a strange birthmark on the back of her neck though.  she too always wears a one piece bathing suit.  i don't know the reason for this yet.

 

i only started working at the big-name-bookstore on Thursday. 

bo

bo is a black cat with no tail.  he had a tail once.  he can't remember what it felt like to have one. but truth be told, he tries not to think about it very often.  thinking about it just gets him down. and down is no good for a cat on the up and up.
 

 bo is new to the neighborhood.  he was chased away from the last place by a nasty clan of raccoons.  raccoons have no manners.  no etiquette.  no panache.  not in bo's opinion.  this new place has no raccoons.  only the occasional rafter of turkeys. 


 

market

every friday morning the empty lot behind the roller skating rink fills up with men and women driving big trucks, pulling stalls, filled with wares.  fresh baked bread.  vine ripened tomatoes.  cabbages in multiple colors from throughout the rainbow. honey from bees who only pollinate nut bearing trees. locally harvested olives, grapes, capers, oranges, figs, lemons and lavender. there is a man with fresh oysters. a women peddling thyme, dill, sage and chocolate mint. families of quail hunters proving their stock to the passing crowds. and occasionally there is a bearded man there with a box of kittens for sale. 

star gazers

outside the bar three teenagers sit. the curb providing a foundation for both sport and reflection. skate boards rest, sullen, beside them. the smell of pizza lingering on their conversation. soda bottles half empty. their plastic bottoms scratched from the idle meditation. as they deliberate on the possibilities of places beyond the stars. they debate the truth of infinity. the infinity of nothingness. weather a "yes" is really a maybe or a reluctant agreement. tipsy dinners take big steps to avoid them. giggle. and then sigh.  because they remember what it was like to be hindered by so many possibilities.

tapas

the end meal. dealt by a tired waitress in black. to a couple just beginning. over muscles sautéed in white wine and butter. crostini with roasted red pepper and young anchovies. sangria with peaches and raspberries. questions about professions over courses of small plates. an awkward smile. finished with a glimmer of splendor. with admiration for an older man. a younger woman. a Tuesday night at a tapas bar. olive pits collecting on a tiny side plate. questions piling up. does he have any tattoos?  does she drink café or tea? when will i find out? should i just ask?

 

 

Macaron Boot Camp

With Adelaide, Cat, and Sara (and Rowdy)...

 

 

 

We took this picture for Nicole (think great British bake-off). ♥

 

 

 

beautiful and delicious Lemon Zest and White Chocolate Rose macarons!

boston, boston

on our way back
we saw

a bound land
where nightmares stop.

suggestions of love
obscure today.

we should have
helped everyone.




 
 
Been longing for the west coast lately, and seeing friend's pics of California makes me miss the good parts even more. Wish I could give it another shot - but rent is insane and pretty much impossible to pay on your own.

Anyone want to move to palm tree land with me?? :P (Liz Harrison)
Boston bound tomorrow if anyone wants to go for ride. Definitely a Lynwoods stop on the way back! (Michael Regan)
Hi Everyone, I went to the Jewel Box of Cape Cod today and Brian told me that I won!!! Thank you to everyone who helped me by liking my ring!! I won 450.00 gift certificate to the Jewel Box!!! Woo!! Hoo!! (Lorrie Roughan)
Anyone have any cool obscure film recommendations? I wanna get my mind blown again. (Jason Deehr)
If you have hulu plus, you should be watching Misfits. Right now. Thanks to Katy Acheson for the recommendation!(Deanna Mustachio)
Freaked the CRAP out of myself this morning! So, yesterday, I drew six "tick marks" on my left forearm - my Doctor Who friends know why. #impossibleastronaught day #counthesilence
This morning, when I got up and saw myself in the mirror, there were tick marks ON MY CHEST ... THAT I DON'T REMEMBER PUTTING THERE!!! Okay, sure, when the brain actually kicked in, I realized that the ink must have transferred in my sleep (presumably I was lying on my arm?), but there was that moment of, "WTF?! NO WAY...!"(Troy Pacelli)
I had a really great vacation but came home with a terrible cold. :( (Lauren Twombly)
Nearly done Joshua and looking forward to staring Judges.

Unrelated, but also in a much better place than yesterday. Here's to no nightmares in advance.(Caitlin Cloutier)
Anybody know why on the way to Boston I saw three buses from Rhode Island (touring style not school) and they had special written on their banner where they put where they are headed and two Rhode Island cruisers with their lights on on each end of them escorting them and two other state trooper SUVs in front as well as 4 more or so cruisers all from Rhode Island in single file?(Erin Fisk)
Can't wait to celebrate Momma Corley's bday tomorrow at Medieval Times (Maite Corley)
In pre-op, getting super nervous... (Emily Lagor)All this birthday love made my rainy day much brighter :) (Jessica Trufant)
My May is full of bass. (Glenjamin Washingmachine)
Does Ally Nolan need to know who the Ramones are? (Angela Nolan)
"I get very good results from feeding my lime tree with watered down urine…" Hmm, any other ideas? (Jonah Katz)

ten things i know to be true...

about jack.

 

1. jack likes to sleep in a USPS priority mail box.  it fits him perfectly.
2. jack prefers to be spoon fed his medicated wet cat food instead of eating if from the bowl.
3. jack purrs when you say his name.  if he was already purring before you said his name, he will purr louder.
4. jack does not like when his kitty-brother rowdy tries to clean him.
5. jack makes everything look comfortable, even the most ridiculous poses.
6. jack puts up with being picked up and kissed.
7. jack likes to sit on my lap.  and he likes to be picked up onto the sofa instead of jumping up himself.
8. jack stops to smell the flowers.  he really does.
9. jack's little feet twitch if his nose gets cold or wet.
10. jack snores the cutest snores.

crashing spirits

i am shaping beautiful hope
clearly closed and sometimes crazy.

but will you teach me respect for self
in the quake of others who are happy?



source: facebook status updates on April 12th, 2013
This WAS shaping up to be a beautiful weekend. Fuck! (doug frenza)
I'm happy. eh...what can I say. (Jason deehr)
Hannibal is an excellent show. I endorse it and hope others shall join me in watching it so that it shan't be cancelled. (john Michael bell)
hey tp people - is the snoqualmie falls hiking trail going to be closed this summer, or open finally? (karl lehtonen)
Note to self: stop arguing on twitter with people who are clearly unmedicated schizophrenics. (dave evans)
quantum quake (kevin drucas)
I got my aunt's number this week in Lebanon, but I don't have most on my numbers on it (ashraf Osman)
The respect with which we treat ourselves serves as the baseline for that which others give to us. (iliya yanamecho)
quite a nice start to the day
Lily slept till 7:00, got dressed and then we hurried to the bus (cos it was raining) but arrived 30 min too early at the bus stop by the nursery.. so decided to teach Lily how to jump in puddles.! (nadia hentze Knudsen)
I Love my life, its pretty cool :) Love you Moe, you drive me crazy sometimes, but your pretty cool too (donna simmons)
Thanks everyone, he's in good spirits as he goes to bed for the night, I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm gonna go to work tomorrow and pray I don't get a call on my cell 2 hours after I get there - fingers crossed - get better pop. (james beaton)
Anyone seeing the promotions for Hemlock Grove? Another stab at Twin Peaks genre? (angela Nolan)
When the Englishman who is crashing on your couch for two weeks cooks for the entire house and it's the best sauce you may have ever had ever #justthebritishthings #hashtagsmeannothingonfacebook (tina bowen)

better tomorrow

i keep tomorrow sunny
filled with hanging the flower
warm and dirty hands

i am busy when allowed
sneezing at hungry matter
all for fun

i have helped tonight
kicked the fun in
epic, but still play





source: facebook status updates on April 11th, 2013
Chilly night here on the harbor in Provincetown! Temp is hanging at 40.2 degrees with a light breeze making it feel like 30's. (Jim Hughes)
If I keep sneezing, you're dead. (David Brooke)
The TARDIS & The FABULOUS Hair: could Dr. Who ever be female & WHO would play him/her?! (Chris Matthews)
Tooth drilled, but still with the ow. Hoping tomorrow brings a better, less-hissing-at-the-intake-of-air-filled day. (Dean Sasser)
I got accepted into big girl school. Rhode Island College here I come! (Emily Tullock)
I want to have the first gay marriage when it's allowed in Kansas. Taking applications for flower people and ringbears. (Jason Deehr)
parenting confession: a glass and a half of wine tonight have made me much more tolerant; aka I've been a lot more fun, akak 'better' mom. Of course they'd already washed their hands and were eating when it kicked in, so that helped. Dirty hungry kids are no fun no matter what. ;) (ellen b rogers)
It's sunny and warm and Shannon is in Berlin?! What?! (ana-maria bell)
It's a busy week for my facebook family . . . birthdays, engagements, epic vacations, all sorts of fun. :-D (bill kollas)

warmer

every season i go visit

to India

to Vegas

to Cape Cod

all shotgun guru and his miserable prophet

i leave people who pretend to be everything

i become everything

all of a sudden i pick the course

to the Balboa Islands

to the suburbs of Berlin

to Scotland again

 

 

source: facebook status updates on April 8th 2013

Did it become allergy season all of the sudden? (mike regan)

Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole. (Danielle DeSimone)

So Jenna Jameson and I like to vacation in the same areas. (Vegas and Balboa Island). Awkward, yes or no? (Nicole Beaudoin)

Back home on Cape Cod. Can't say I missed it, but it's good to be back. (Ben Hughes)

Of course Massachusetts decides to get a bit warmer just as I'm about to leave for Scotland again lol. Can't complain though, it's been a great visit, and on Thursday I get to see Ana-Maria Bell in Berlin! (Shannon Cocci)

Watching Kumare, a documentary about an indian dude who pretends to be a guru and tricks all these people into following him as a prophet, and theyre all miserable white people from the suburbs who believe everything. Embarassing. (Tristan Harrison)

Every once in a while I like to go to the vet and just BALL OUT. #baller (Spock Ayer)

 

 

street drink

there goes the cowards.
they walk. kick. throw
 visual hate.

send your echo of wonder
with wisdom wearing a sign.

they discovered the joy of powerless cinnamon.

joys coated the season
with my favorite play ground.

deal over the day with noise.



source: facebook status updates on april 7th 2013
visual echo (kevin drucas)
yay -less than a few hours before I drink in all the wisdom of my favorite tv character... Sally Draper. (eben moore)
Discovered the joys of spit-roast pineapple coated in cinnamon at Bem Brasil! (Kerry Acheson Parker)
I'm way too excited for the season premiere of Mad Men tonight. (elise gilbert)
My throat really hurts. God damn I hate throat hurts. (Jason Deehr)
Yesterday I was going into work got off at Park street and there was a guy who was wearing a sign that said "Drones are for cowards" REALLY? WTF? You want more soilders going over there to DIE because you HATE DRONES? what is your deal A**HOLE! Since you dont like Drones how about we send your stupid A** over there to get shot you stupid F*** (peter Koch)
Starting my Sunday off with a dead car. Awesome. (nicki burns)
must collect the kids now for the day! I wonder what they have planned. Maybe we can play Star Wars. Which is simply-they are Jedi Knights, I am a powerless villain, they kick the crap out of me and throw me to the ground which is the Sarlacc Pit-and yes, I always make the Lando noise!! (jeff la carrubba)
Well there goes my Sunday... (maite Corley)
Ahhhh...A Morning walk with my favorite husband (susan forester loughlin)





























































          
     











          

note the time

i like listening to the heat vents rattle
with the warm air pushing its way towards me
at 6:31 in the morning
on a cold, spring's Saturday.

if i could stay here for the day
absorbing the sun through the glass doors
and windows
with the cats laid out like ornaments...

but i would fall asleep.

ten things i know to be true...

... about my dad.

1. my dad hates the song rock lobster by the b52s.  you can ask him why.
2. my dad is great at telling stories.  especially around camp fires.
3. my dad's idea of a camp fire is bigger and brighter than your idea of a camp fire.
4. my dad once arrested santa claus.
5. my dad once had to pull one of my classmates in elementary school out of a trash can at the museum of science in boston.  he was chaperoning a school trip.  i think that was the last time he ever volunteered to chaperon a trip for my class.
6. my dad used to build lego castles for my sister and i so we could play with (aka destroy) it.  i don't think he liked it though.
7. my dad would do anything he could to help me or my brother or sister.  and he does.
8. my dad likes mint lifesavers.
9. my dad took me to a Celtics game when i was too young to appreciate it.  i remember being so bored we ended up leaving.  i know he was disappointed, but going to the garden with my dad is still a vivid and brilliant memory.  thank you, dad!
10. my dad's homemade chili is still my favorite.  it's the best.  he's the best.


i know it's early for father's day, but I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately.  i love you, dad!

list format inspired by Sarah Kay's TEDtalks "If I should have a daughter..." viewable on TED.com or youtube

new terrariums built!

terrarium terror update

so they aren't/weren't springtails.  i did a lot more reading up.  springtails spring, as in jump.  the little white specs i found don't/didn't.

with the help of a few friends on facebook though, i decided to drizzle my terrarium with garlic infused EVOO (no fresh garlic in the house at the moment), and there are considerably fewer little white specs moving around than there were an hour ago.

now i'm wondering if the olive oil is going to impact the plants...

terrarium terror - the first real learning experience

i went to go take lots of pretty pictures of my pretty terrariums.  it's not very bright in here, so i used flash with my lovely camera.  alas, it's a good thing i did because this is what i saw...

 

 

i got the creepy crawlies instantly.

 

so i looked online and suspect that these little lovelies are called springtails.  several websites suggested that these come from too much humidity.  so I've put the plants in front of the dehumidifier downstairs, but i suspect i am going to have to remake my terrariums.  the soil i used had been in a big bag in our basement - not the driest space ever.

 

on the shopping list: new soil, new plants.  on the to-do list: clean everything and dry everything out before replanting new terrariums.  but i will see if dehydration works first.

 

less bugs in the house would be good.  there are already enough as it is.

 

 

building my first terrarium

i decided that i want some new plants in the house, and have for a while been drawn to the idea of a terrarium; a small little eco system encased in glass.  so i plan on turning one or two of the glass vases or jars i have at home (and never use) into a little plant world.

i did a little research: 

http://www.mahoneysgarden.com/blog/terrariums-part-1-introduction

and

http://www.wikihow.com/Make-a-Terrarium

and after looking at hundreds of beautiful pictures online, i have decided that 1) they aren't difficult to build, 2) they don't sound too hard to maintain and 3) even if i do completely mess it up, it doesn't cost much.

before work this morning i went to mahoney's garden center in falmouth and purchased some pebbles, charcoal, moss, and these five "itty bitty" plants...

i have uber mini figurines (a little swamp thing, an alien, and two ninja turtles) at home ready to traverse the mini landscape.  and i think we have potting soil at home already, but that's always something i can pick up at any grocery store this time of year. 

now all i need is some time at home to actually design and plant! 



table

he sat at a table, his back to space

he waited for the girl
who wrote the book

that held the secrets
of his past lives.

she entered with the captain.

the man at the table stood up,
shook her hand,
and offered to buy her tea.

he watched as she drank
from the small tea cup

and ate jammie dodgers.

he told her about his memories,
and about the book he thinks she wrote.

she did not reply.

frustrated he asked her,
"did you write the book or not?"

to which she stood up,
clearing the crumbs from her lap

and answered, "yes, hugh,
but i wrote it in another lifetime."

she left without looking back,
and she never said thank you

for the tea and biscuits.

A Love Poem Project part 19

We should have shoveled
In the middle of the night
Or sprinkled fresh salt on the deck
At the point we understood
When the white stuff wasn't going to stop

We might have saved outselves the huff and puff
With the daily grind
Paved in broad day light

Songs to Jonannes part III by Mina Loy from The Lost Lunar Baedeker

We might have coupled
In the bed-ridden monopoly of a moment
Or broken flesh with one another
At the profane communion table
Where wine is spill'd on promiscuous lips

We might have given birth to a butterfly
With the daily news
Printed in blood on its wings

A Love Poem Project part 18

Big scoop. Seed sale for farmers. How they lined up, pushed barrows
into farm town. Vroom, vroom. Such miracle growth is. Denim,
___ switchblades &

___ dirt: is life giving. It's funny how it rains but when we

were in it, right in it, we ran for cover. Did You? Or does you
only do toms & cucs? _____We want tasty vegetables to take

home this week with splendid prices.
Returning homeward. __ oh, yeah. Could be organic, should be a label
__ on each Round
__ to tell us. I'm living within my locavore

vegan mushroom ___ yet still smoke & covet the frito lays aisle.

house holds) by albert mobilio from me with animal towering

Big deal. Pillow sale for them. How they tied up, rode groovy
into Bitetown. Vroom, vroom. Such miracle love as. Notes,
___ Kickbaks, &

___ disturb: ing lubrication. It's funny now in retro but when we

were in it, right in it, we Felt squeezed. Did You? Or does you
only do luv & kisses? _____We got tasty tablets to take

upon this rock with sending sky.
Returning world. __ oh, yeah. Could be big, should a bowie
__ knife Round
__ us out. I'm living within my flaking

paintjob's room ___ yet still Clue & covet a Greyhound zone.

A Love Poem Project part 17

The first time we had breakfast together in a duvet
with white pillow cases, he leaned forward

and took my two hands in his hands and said,
I'm going to leave soon.  I want you to know that.

And I said, I think I do know.
And he said, What surprises me is that you don't.

And I said, I do.  And he said, What?
And I said, Know that you're going to leave.

And he said, No, I mean know that you are.

The Last Time by Marie Howe from What the Living Do

The last time we had dinner together in a restaurant
with white tablecloths, he leaned forward

and took my two hands in his hands and said,
I'm going to die soon.  I want you to know that.

And I said, I think I do know.
And he said, What surprises me is that you don't.

And I said, I do.  And he said, What?
And I said, Know that you're going to die.

And he said, No, I mean know that you are.

A Love Poem Project part 16

There are new breaks in New England.  Like the soilders
Each has fallen, against one another
Splintering in every way every time
a unique direction
And rubbing tightly past all of it
Fresh from the heavy winds
And the cruel New England storms.
The bow breaks, finds the ground
The ground caves.  Once someone
Put a car too close
And there for all to see, for all the children,
Every New Englander
saw tragedy. What I've seen
Is all I can bear: dead trees.

Product by George Oppen from Selected Poems

There is no beauty in New England like the boats.
Each itself, even the paint white
Dripping to each wave each time
At anchor, mast
And rigging tightly part of it
Fresh from the dry tools
And the dry New England hands.
The bow soars, finds the waves
The hull accepts  Once someone
Put a bowl afloat
And there for all to see, for all the children,
Even the New Englander
Was boatness. What I've seen
Is all I've found: myself.

A Love Poem Project part 15

I take myself a piece apart
beyond the light of worlds that to and fro,
But oh, the alienated hurt
Till someone finds me and takes me out.

'Tis pretty if the stars requiem
(Or so says i) than if they stare
I steal the night and transpire
under the starlight of a long day.

But so with all, from blades of grass
to the hide of a tree to Gobi fish,
So all must die to quell my heart
and I speak and tell you where to go.

Revelations by Robert Frost from New Enlarged Anthology of Robert Frost's Poems

We make ourselves a place apart
behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone find us really out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that  in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.

A Love Poem Project part 14

Saint Valentine.
although tired, should the interested party
impart the plot of the dreamer's cause
by permanently fixating?

Might you have killed a stale
form of the be-ers inconsiderate mind?
or bridge neatly a sober thought through
a perfectly false leaf from home.

dug up from underneath,
a wish for touch or that minute filled fully
and called "amorously unarmed
silhouette" fawning over a woman.

Or did the angel
prevent parasites from burying deep back against
those descendants mightier since a protest?
But wondering is the maker

of friends. Why tinker
with any of ours in connection
with the affair or the wine no one drank?
by then the mark did not fit.

For February 14th by Marianne Moore from Complete Poems

Saint Valentine.
although late, would "some interested law
impelled to plod in the poem's cause"
be permitted a line?

Might you have liked a stone
from a De Beers Consolidated Mine?
or badger-neat saber-thronged thistle
of Palestine--the leaves alone

down'd underneath,
worth a touch? or that mimosa-leafed vine
called an "alexander's armillary
sphere" fanning out in a wreath?

Or did the ark
preserve paradise-birds with jet-black plumbs,
whose descendants might serve as presents?
But questioning is the mark

of pest! Why think
only of animals in connection
with the ark or the wine Noah drank?
but that the ark did not sink.

A Love Poem Project part 13

First, a love must be magical,
Then musical as a sea-gull.
It must be a brightness moving
And hold secret a bird's flowering.
It must be slender as a bell,
And it must bold fire as well.
It must have the wisdom of bows
And it must kneel like a rose.
It must be able to hear
The luminance of dove and deer.
It must be able to hide
What it seeks, like a bride.
And over all I would like to hover
God, smiling from the lovers' cover.

(note: i know this seems like a very small change... but the poem is already so lovely.  i only have to change two words to change the entire meaning, and i do love it so)

Have Come, Am Here part 15 by Jose Garcia Villa from The Anchored Angel

First, a poem must be magical,
Then musical as a sea-gull.
It must be a brightness moving
And hold secret a bird's flowering.
It must be slender as a bell,
And it must bold fire as well.
It must have the wisdom of bows
And it must kneel like a rose.
It must be able to hear
The luminance of dove and deer.
It must be able to hide
What it seeks, like a bride.
And over all I would like to hover
God, smiling from the poem's cover.

A Love Poem Project part 12

Heartbreak is contagious, a hot fire
in the stomach, to numb the heart
and let sweaty palms grow moist
in the morning traffic.  We seek
out companions, imagine their forgiveness
along with a cool tangle of arms.
Before night, before morning they would
be bringing us back into warm motions
and rituals, all breasts eternally permitting,
growing in love.  We are hopeful.
A reunited beloved girl gains
our trust. A careful tongue hangs
on its every mouthful, its bright
mood bringing to life our pathos.
Our eyes turn cold and tired;
hair grows in our eyes; a stink
of deception, foul clouding of moments
and lies. But light comes, we break
our very best. The first bride to be.
Great sobs surface and softly subside
around us. Ancient ghosts of the past?
No, Friends are falling in our scene.

The Beginning of Myth by William Hathaway from The Gymnast of Inertia

Breakfast is congnac, a cozy fire
for the stomach, to numb the lips
and let swamp trees grow emerald
in the morning mist.  We fish
for crappie, imagine their huge eyes
aglow in a cold tangle of roots.
Before day, before history the wood
is swollen black, the water murky
with danger, all beasts eternally pregnant,
grunting in labor.  We are drunk.
A reptile becoming a bird groans
in trees. A purple tongue hangs
from the fish's mouth and its bright
blood drips to beetles in palmetto.
Our eyes turn old and terribly keen;
hair grows in our shoes; a stink
of dinosaur, flies clouding their mouths
and eyes. But light comes, we break
out the beer. The fish begin to bite.
Great bubbles surface and softly belch
around us. Ancient gases of the dead?
No, Frogs are farting in their sleep.