I found this poem (or part of a poem?) last week, tucked in with some letters. It’s pretty — I wish I could claim it, but I’m not the author of this one. No clues, no attribution, just a phone number on the back for someone named Renee, and a note scribbled down that says, B wc at 3. (That translates, in Nancy-speak, to B. — B. who? who knows — will call at 3.)

And now, the poem:

“This was the place where in spring
the ground swelled with the
burst of growing things, where
in summer, like now, the air
was a beautiful blue.

In autumn, in this still
place, the vesper sparrow
sang in the mornings, and,
according to his moods,
throughout the day, but sang
his sweetest, conducted his
best services at evenfall.”

A little round-up:

Reading/watching this week:

David Strathairn just knocks me out in this movie, based on the story of no-holds-barred CBS newscaster Edward R. Murrow and his producer and partner, Fred Friendly (played by George Clooney). It’s a toss-up really, whose performance is better in this, they’re all good, from the leads to the supporting cast. The film skillfully blends actual footage from the McCarthy hearings into Hollywood film and does it well. The ensemble cast — all splendid — include Ray Wise, Patricia Clarkson, Robert Downey Jr. and Frank Langella.

On to the books — yes, I’m tackling another Pollan book, that’s right. This time it’s “The Omnivore’s Dilemma.” It’s good, it’s tough going to read — really intense and lots of facts, background, science, math, names and places. You know I enjoy a “lite” summer read. Woof. It will make you look at corn in a whole new jaded way. Also, I never want to eat beef ever again. I’m serious. Even if it’s grass-fed, I’m sick of this crap — literally — and can’t support it any more. Remember the whole mad cow thing? OK — it’s not all right to feed cows other cows’ brains any more. Oh, yes, that’s bad. Bad, bad, bad. But as far as feeding them other parts? Game on. Blech. Sorry for my language, but it’s all shit, shit, and more shit, and then it’s re-gurged shit and it’s fed to us and our babies. Why are we agreeing to this? (Oh, sweet! Just noticed the McDonald’s pop-up ad is running on my sidebar. OK, I think I need to stop whoring it out here.)

This is a nasty, nasty country we live in, as far as our agribusiness goes. And our politics. And our need to drop bombs hither and yon, according to our whims. And our refusal to pay for education, books, teachers, social services and health care. Other than that, America Rocks!

Argh.

“America: Love It or Give It Back.”

Something lighter, please? Any Young Adult books by any of the Sharons are good: Sharon Flake, Sharon Draper or Sharon Creech. Just finished “Ruby Holler”; “Walk Two Moons” is next on the list.

“Accepting a generous spoonful, Dallas said, ‘I suppose we should have told you we were going –‘

Florida licked the honey from her fingers. ‘Well, ma’am, that’s a mighty interesting way to think.'”

“OLD VET

PLEASE HELP”

have you ever had that happen to you? well, I have, and it makes me mad, sad, but happy (for her, not me) all at the same time.

i miss my friend Ms. New Orleans, but she’s off to the Gulf for a new job and some new fun with her old friends. (sigh.) And honestly, how much time am I going to have to party, anyway? School starts for me three weeks from tomorrow. If I am Gainfully Employed, I’ll start back to that school even sooner. She teaches, too, so we never have any damn time.

and then there are my kids, starting middle school, at a new school (obviously) and the third-grader, and HIS new school, and my husband, who never gets any attention. as a matter of fact, he’s patiently waiting, right over there on the couch, while I finishing type-typing away on this.

anyway. that’s all.

xo

wm

seriously laughing hard over here, me and Wacky Girl, over Celine Dion smacking herself in the chest, like her heart’s stopped and she has to restart it (“My Heart Will Go On” — and on and on and on…), over the promo for Vampires Suck, over Hammer’s pants (I saw Hammer live, actually, man he put on a good show) but especially over this quote:

“I like Madonna, man, she’s alright. She can drop that 50-year-old ass in my lap any day of the week. Hell, yeah! ‘Justify My Love.'” — Sir Mix-A-Lot

(my favorite songs so far: “Jeremy,” “Under the Bridge,” “Sabotage” and, of course, “Waterfalls.”) (Oh, ’90s, you weren’t that long ago, damn. But you really were a million years ago. Love you, Left Eye. R.I.P.)

Steve walked in so we had to rewind it and watch it again.

“Oooooooooooh he hates REM!” (“Losing My Religion”: “Oh Life is bigger It’s bigger than you And you are not me” and to that I say, Thank God.) “The only band he hates worse than REM,” I say, “is… the Replacements!”

Steve: “Naw, I hate U2 worse.” The hit list included “One,” the song that “made them epic!” according to one of the commentators. “I thought Bono’s ego made ’em epic,” Steve said, thoughtfully. Then informs me that (formerly) my man Bono doesn’t like to pay taxes? But he is fond of moving the do-re-mi hither and yon in off-shore accounts.

But all by himself he’s ending world poverty, hunger and bad accessorizing, so I suppose he doesn’t feel the need to pay taxes, hmm? Is any of this true? What is the Internet for, if not to spread vicious rumors about Bono and U4, as their favorite waitress calls them.

More trivia: Did you know that Alanis Morrissette wrote “You Oughta Know” about Uncle Joey from “Full House”?

Also I’d forgotten how much I love “Baby Got Back.” Finally, a ’90s song Stevie and I agree on.

They had lessons at one of the neighborhood high schools, so my mom signed me up. They wouldn’t let the parents in the building. This aggravated her. They yelled at us a lot, then they made us all go off the diving board before we were ready.

“Sink or swim!” — credo of the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s

I was terrified. So they stuck out a long metal pole and told me to hold onto it and jump. I don’t remember what happened after that. I might have drowned for all I know. Oh, wait… here I am. I might have sunk to the bottom like a stone and needed mouth-to-mouth. I might have swam like a fish and learned my side-breathing. Oh, wait… I still can’t stick my face into the water and do the side-breathing and swim laps, no, it freaks me out. I love water aerobics, cuz the ladies all wear funny swim caps and it’s good exercise. I can swim okay, but don’t try getting me near a diving board. Also my dad had a sad, horrible death that involved water and honestly? I am proud of myself for even being near water, alrighty? Alrighty!

I write this today because here is the thing you never find out about parenthood ’til it’s too late — you can really be traumatized by it. Seriously. Both of my kids are swimming great, doing their side-breathing, one of them is flinging her body off the diving board and from the end of the pool into 12-foot water with so much reckless abandon that it takes my breath away. She also got invited into Black Belt Club with taekwondo, which doesn’t mean she’s a black belt yet, but means they want her out there sparring cuz she has that certain je nais se quoi. (And yes I spelled that almost exactly right without even looking. See? Talents of my own.) My reaction to her invite was, Wow, okay, Mommy needs to have a nice stiff drink then we’ll talk about that, okay? (and I wrote out a check to the studio for her sparring gear.) (her teacher: “I’ll custom build it myself, it will rock, she’ll love it.”)

Meanwhile, I’m by the side of the pool, hyperventilating. And when they ask me, after each and every lesson, Mom, did you see that? I’m all, Yes! goodjobsweetieniceworkwhewwwww…

Seriously. Seriously!!! Everything I know about parenting you could stick on the head of a pin and still have room left over for the Pledge of Allegiance.

buh-bye.

— wm

edited later to say: Just had a little chat with my girl.

me: “Black belt does not mean weapons, you know.” (I saw the note on the board at school last night that said, Black belts purchase your swords now!)

Wacky Girl, cheerful and full of glee: “No, but it means you can have weapons.”

Classic.

John was a big flirt and a funny, wicked talented artist. RIP, Big Guy.

love ya, Laura.

yeah, this is the kids’ new favoritest video. it is pretty funny, i’ll give em that. happy FRIDAY and happy WEEKEND!

nancy