more of the same; waiting for spring

Today: more of the same. Still that brown-edged ice piles that once was winter snow. I am disappointed that we never truly had a snow storm, nothing that felt like freedom, like me leaping in piles with my sneakers. Nothing that kept anyone home for a day, bundled in blankets, shoveling the sidewalk in shifts. And now we're nearing mid-March, and I'm afraid this winter, it just won't happen. We maintained snow from just before the holidays, no bare ground, but we weren't walloped like Wisconsin, our baleful neighbor.

Currently reading: Fanny by Erica Jong. I read Fear of Flying too late, without guidance to appreciate it, and passed it along short thereafter. Groundbreaking then, it wasn't surprising to me, this Women's Studies minor, this girl who loved her GLBT Lit classes, this girl whose favorite poet is the visceral Sharon Olds. But I can appreciate what she's trying to do, can admire the rollicking adventure of her heroine. I can also brace myself as she capitalizes all the nouns in some kind of farce of 18th century Literature, though when she gets to listing, my eyes start to swim a bit.

Currently dreaming: A few nights ago, I dreamed I had my heart removed during surgery. I could get up, walk around, with an empty chest cavity, and though I felt woozy, I knew I had some time before it needed to be replaced. I was in some kind of gray skyscraper, and my principal and my mother were to help me back from the lobby to the operating room, but there was some distraction, and a low level panic began to rise up, flush my cheeks.

My spring soundtrack: Regina Spektor. I don't know why, but last spring, just as the snow melted, just as the world became nubby trees and bulbs pushing up through loam, I would listen to her CD over and over again, hopeful for the future. I also think so much about good educational memories: high school English classes, workshopping in college, that first semester at the U of MN and how good it was and how free I felt, independent of that safe apparatus that is family and childhood friends. There's something about her songs that reminds me of reading. I wish I could explain, but I think of those summer reading lists, of thick Russian novels, of reading belly down in the grass, of the sun shining on the page.

how to hold the heat in

I cannot burn candles any more; you've seen what happens. We have a reed diffuser, but the scent is only vague, not enough to fill up our home. And our dear friends the Urtels always kept a wonderful-smelling home. I found out their secret: they boil their own potpourri. Slices of lemon, slices of orange, cinnamon sticks, cloves, etc. We know how cooking scents can fill a home.

Of course, as I boiled it this morning, Husband decided he wanted some popcorn.


It's so cold here. My fingers are numb. It's so so cold here.

And my sister lives in Austin. It's so not cold there. But she's gorgeous and has good taste, and I love making and giving. So I knit up these two headbands--my first two finished objects for 2008--and they're plopping into the mail soon, a little random gift from me. I'm now addicted to making them: I simply cast on four, stockinette stitch (makes a nice rope, which is the only thing I've found myself not frustrated with in regards to st st) and pick a random pattern from this stitch dictionary. The one on the left is the chevron seed stitch and the one on the right is simple garter (I figured with the color, I'd see what it looked like patternless--now I'm trying the little arrow stitch with the same yarn).



I am thinking a lot about the way things take shape from a distance, the way a myriad of little things, a collection of our life, can make a picture. I think it is from all the blogs I've been reading recently, of artists, of appreciators of art: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, etc.

Aesthetic + color: milk, brown eggshells, small water-worn stones, mav's table, fog, charcoal, winter sky, birds on a wire, cream, Irish wool (with the flecks of grass stain green), leather, sparrows, warm chai, cinnamon, moss, brick, sea urchins, the ocean, iron, houseplants, gauzy curtains, wooden spoons, pinecones, rain, bread, soup, rosemary, the lake, pubs, gingerbread, snowstorms, asparagus, soot & ash, brie cheese, organic cotton, tea, glass jars.

This afternoon was the first day of our book club, but we didn't talk about the book much. It was good to be around good girl friends, nice to sit in the afternoon light (sunlight! blue skies!), talk about little fluttery in Kelly's belly, talk about Chris's bird who likes to peck at toes and sing songs. And I fell back in love with hummus; I had forgotten how perfect this food is.

Currently:

- discovering this adorable shop: the barn swallow (check it out!)
- being so sad about sculptures stolen for scrap metal
- having a crush on this art

Friday Flickr Favorites: Shades of Gray

1. Untitled, 2. Untitled, 3. an enchanted place, 4. {January 14} view from the curry house, 5. Untitled, 6. A Gaggle of Birds, 7. Untitled, 8. Stones, 9. Untitled, 10. simple setting of grays and whites, 11. en mémoire, 12. urchins

Inspired: mav from port2port, an incredibly talented artist, has a tradition on her blog. Friday Flickr Favorites. What I love so much is seeing images clinging to each other, the way they work in concert with one another. Think: 3191, noticing project, six one way. I am in love with mornings, with everyday life, with quiet beauty. With subtleness, with the stark majesty of the ordinary.

And these images above, oh how much I love them together. I'm enjoying playing with flickr, even a little too addicted maybe, but Florida will distract me--the beaches, the poetry, the hotel linen.

But before there is Florida, there is snow. Temperatures are supposed to plummet this weekend, which happens to also be the weekend the Urtels are making the trek from Winona to the Twin Cities. Oh, how cold it will be!

I remember when I first moved to the Midwest (from Chattanooga)... I remember the sprinkling of snow in October, the shock of slipping on the ice, wearing snow boots to school. I remember that one day in December, I was a freshmen at the University of Minnesota, and I had to drop off a paper--that's all--and how it took me so long to get off campus, how I had to stop in the old pillared buildings to thaw before I could move on, how I couldn't imagine waiting for a bus, but I also couldn't imagine the walk home either. I remember there was a time when I'd wear long underwear through the whole winter, not miss a day, how it was a period of something like five months.

How I haven't worn long underwear in years, so sturdy I've become, so used to this town and the way the wind whips as we walk the dogs. But you can be certain I will wear everything possible, will layer myself to Michelin-man status, will roll myself along with the furniture, the boxes of books.

I'm so grateful the Urtels aren't hoarders, like us. :)

Currently:

- trying not to feel shame at my low vocabulary while donating rice
- discovering this fun home site
- switching over to 100% wind energy

:: currently ::

It's hard to believe in a week I'll be in the thick of poetry workshops. And meeting Sharon Olds (imagine me, toppling over, more likely walking into a wall or table, stumbling about, forgetting my name). Right now, all I can think of is grading those Frankenstein tests, convincing my husband that the dogs don't really need to sleep in bed with us again, and how I'm going to get a nap in when he's working from home today.

Currently:
- exploring back posts of the glass doorknob.
- thinking about yoga classes.
- discovering tiny showcase
- looking at one of the sweetest things I've ever seen
- perusing pear threads
- and sweet felt goods
- discovering (via Nikki) eco libris--plant a tree for every book you've read
- obsessing over flickr