I am feeling a little claustrophobic, being stuck inside. I go out once in awhile, but honestly? I don’t find playing in the snow with the children and husband to be all that relaxing. I love them dearly, I would die for them, but I don’t want to die because of them, know what I’m saying?

Probably not.

Let’s just say, I’m a fraidy cat. Also, I don’t like to be cold. The three of them (plus Miss Honey Butt’s Daughter, who has moved in for the week) are risk-takers and daredevilish and “pfffffffffft pffffffffffft pffffffffffffffft thump thump thump…” (that’s the sound of me, sucking my breath in, heart pounding).

Also, it seems like one of us always ends up with a nosebleed or a head injury. We had to walk to Plaid Pantry ‘pacifically to buy 1) more butter for baking and 2) another box of band-aids.

Still looking for peace. Still trying to avoid chaos. (ha ha ha arggggggggggggggghhh…) Still trying to get the house clean, just in case we do end up having Christmas Day over here, as planned. It’s not going that well, what with the wet mittens and boots and snow gear strung from one end of the house to the other.

I haven’t been able to do the last-minute shopping, and I’ve been so busy the last couple of months that it is all last-minute shopping. (Not the way I usually operate — I’m a planner. Who am I kidding. I’m an OCD over-planner.)

Go look at Byron Beck’s new blog — he’s living it up with Anthony and Storm so I don’t have to. Not that I wouldn’t love to live it up with them but you know. That would involve leaving the house.

Anyway.

These are the closing lines from “A Child’s Christmas in Wales.” You’ll like them. (Thank you, L. This is beautiful.)

Peace.

wm

“Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the light in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steadily falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.”
-Dylan Thomas

ps — i’m eating half an acorn squash with butter, salt and pepper and mango chutney. The girls put their hair into matching pigtails and are baking chocolate crinkles (this recipe calls for oil, not butter, so it’s a good one for those times you don’t feel like walking to Plaid). Pittsburgh Pens and Buffalo Sabres game is tied up 2-2. Have achieved zen. No chaos, except on the ice. It’s a wonderful life.

“Who overcomes by force hath overcome but half his foe.”
— John Milton, poet (1608-1674)

“Basically, I don’t like to talk about anything I’ve written or that I’m writing. What you write down, there it is and you’ve done it.”

— Joan Didion on the phone with the New York Times, 11/18/2008

POEM AGAINST THE FIRST GRADE
by George Venn

“Alex, my son, with backberry jam
smeared ear to ear and laughing,
rides his unbroken joy with words
so fast we let him get away
on the jamjar without clean cheeks first.

I hope for a bad seal on Ax and tister,
encourage the mold of joyous error
that proper sad giants, armed to the ears
with pencils and rules, all forgot.”

POEM AGAINST THE FIRST GRADE
by George Venn

“Alex, my son, with backberry jam
smeared ear to ear and laughing,
rides his unbroken joy with words
so fast we let him get away
on the jamjar without clean cheeks first.

I hope for a bad seal on Ax and tister,
encourage the mold of joyous error
that proper sad giants, armed to the ears
with pencils and rules, all forgot.”

Mother on Fire. Funny interview — give it a read.

so much depends
upon

— “The Red Wheelbarrow,” 1923, William Carlos Williams

“Stop eating ice cream on the Stairmaster”

Do you love Yvonne even half as much as I do? No, I don’t think you do, because I love her THIS MUCH. Her obsession with bean dip and Rick Springfield (not in that order. I don’t think, anyway), her funny hubs and kids, especially her charming little kick-ass daughter. She is so damn sexy — all the time I’m thinking, honey. You are gorgeous! Go look in the mirror! Also, she takes superb photos. She needs a little lovin’ right now and frankly, so do I.

Plus we are Thyroid Sisters. And now, being older, I can one-up her: I have Other Troubles. (Is that vague enough? I’m sorry, but I cannot be specific. You can e me if you want all the grim details.)

She sez:

Dear You,

Me

I’m asking you — do the same for me, would you? Because I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired.

wm

Two new words for you:

Your French word-of-the-day:

gazouillis (gah-zoo-lee) noun, masculine
1. twittering, chirping, warbling (birds), gurgling (baby) ;
2. babbling, murmuring (of running water)

Your English word-of-the-day:

ebullient (i-BUL-yuhnt, -BOOL-) adjective
Bubbling with enthusiasm or excitement.
[From Latin ebullire (to boil up), from bulla (bubble).]

Library life, Internets, is going quite nicely. That’s about all you’ll hear from me on work. Happy Tuesday — have fun.

xxox

wm