(Photo by Steve Rawley)
Went for a walk this morning — still some snow on the ground. Crazy for this time of year. Saw two gorgeous deer up the street, hiding in the forest. #iloveoregon.
This has been our favorite cold weather dish lately. So good, especially when we’re in a hurry for dinner, which is basically every night. This recipe calls for an insane amount of butter — we try to use half that much. try being the operative word.
“You need to get back on that board is what you need to do. You gotta just pull yourself up by your wetsuit, get back on that board. Hey, look man, if you’re attacked by a shark, are you gonna give up surfing?”
“Probably, yeah.”
“Let’s go in, alright? Tacos are on me.”
— “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
What I really need today is a photo of the snow coming down, with the cherry and plum blossoms on the trees, in the background. Crazy, crazy weather. The mourning doves and frogs don’t seem to mind, and the daffodils don’t mind, either.
Happy Monday.
— wm
“Litany”
by Billy Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry; I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and — somehow — the wine.
Prayer
Every day I want to speak with you. And every day something more important
calls for my attention—the drugstore, the beauty products, the luggage
I need to buy for the trip.
Even now I can hardly sit here
among the falling piles of paper and clothing, the garbage trucks outside
already screeching and banging.
The mystics say you are as close as my own breath.
Why do I flee from you?
My days and nights pour through me like complaints
and become a story I forgot to tell.
Help me. Even as I write these words I am planning
to rise from the chair as soon as I finish this sentence.
Marie Howe
(thank you for that, Lovely Laura.)
Dear Some of My Former Co-Workers,
As you are drinking yourselves silly at the wake tomorrow for our late co-worker… let’s just call him DUI Guy, for his sake… plz you will remember that alcohol isn’t the best temporary solution. But it’s a pretty good permanent one.
Love,
nancy
ps yes i know this graf needed an editor.
Here’s a related story for you.
And another one. Happy Friday, y’all. RIP, RIP, RIP to those who need it.
also, Peter Bhatia? kind of a wussy-boy. He’s all, You?! You! Are a Troll! and a… a… blogger.
oh my heck. This from the man who after he did yet another slice n dice on the newsroom, gathered us all around in an all-hands meeting, gave a big ol’ smirk and said, “The only person who likes change is a baby.” (Actually, he said that a lot. That was just the first time we ever heard it.) I told my co-workers, “This is a man who obviously has never changed a diaper.” oy.
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
from today’s Publishers Lunch, under New Deals:
Richard M. Cohen’s I WANT TO KILL THE DOG, a humorous memoir and countercultural ode about living with his wife Meredith Vieira’s animal menagerie and the havoc the pets create; and Scratch and Peck blogger Lauren Scheuer’s illustrated ONCE UPON A FLOCK: Adventures with My Backyard Chickens.
Make a stand for fiction. Go buy a copy of my novel.
Happy Thursday, y’all!
— nancy
(Photo by Steve Rawley)
Out for a job interview this a.m. Dressed-up! Grown-ups! Resumes and W-4s and INS forms and here’s my passport, woot!
Ran errands: Fred Meyer, lunch, but seemed like double that cuz of rain, wind and traffic.
Perky weathergirl on country station, on the radio: “We do have some folks without electricity, due to the high winds. We had a 3.1 earthquake off the Oregon coast and tomorrow we might have snow!”
Ye Gods.
I drove home through flying branches and tree limbs, scattering all over the road, to no power at the library = can’t check out books. Blown-down fences, lights out all over the place… branches covering the driveway at our place, but lights on, house warm, cats confused.
Ah, winter. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?
(edited Tues to say: it snowed like crazy half the day, then stopped and the sun came out. crocus and daffodils dancing in the breeze, happy. Steve and I had Thai food for lunch, so perfect. Green curry, tom kha soup and salad rolls. Spring is on the way, i don’t care if it’s snowing or not.)
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