Allo Lune

This Week's Love

2012-01-28T11:12:00.000-05:00

Here are a few things that made this week lovely:

Good Earth's Energizing Black Tea. Yum! I love this citrus and spice flavor-packed blend. Not your average black tea, especially with a slice of lemon and teaspoon of honey. Every day should start this way.

L'Oreal nail color in Club Prive. The weather in New England this week has been less than inspiring--gray skies, rain, slush, general yuck. I walked by this nail color at the store and couldn't resist its cheeriness. It's spring in a bottle. It's a nod to Tiffany's, to the divine feminine, to making it through the winter in good spirits. It even garnered compliments for the uber-hip sales girl at the local consignment shop. Score.

I read and loved this Jonathan Safran Foer novel a few years ago, and saw the film last night. It gutted me...just soul-scrapingly sad. I sat through the entire second half with tears streaming down my face. Admittedly, it's not the best movie I've ever seen. Acting in the early scenes was touch-and-go, and translating the narration of Oskar Schell from page to screen was not entirely seamless. Reviews have been mixed, though it was nominated for Best Picture earlier this week. Still, there were enough moments of sheer, honest humanity to make me love this film.

Hooray for good stuff!

Corners of Our Home

2011-09-01T17:18:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite bloggers intermittently posts photos of her family's new-to-them old farmhouse under this same heading, and given our recent relocation to an apartment all our own, I thought I'd do the same. I'm pretty thrilled to be where we are and to finally, finally be getting settled. Every box has at least been opened and most have been entirely unpacked. The mountain of cardboard in the basement speaks to the massive amount of work this has been. The results, however, are quite nice:

This is one of my favorite spots, the "conversation corner." The crow on the wall is wearing costume ears and was drawn by Boston-based artist Sophie Tuttle.

I couldn't be happier with my little office/crafting corner. The shelves need paint and that bare wall some photographs, but I love it anyway. Here's an up close of the mobile I made during the storm last weekend:

You can make one yourself by following this simple pattern.

I'll post more as these corners of our home continue to come together.

City and Colour

2011-03-16T22:39:00.001-04:00

Bookends: quiet and sweet. In the middle, a stomping good time.

Of course it's good; he's Canadian.

No Excuse Necessary

2011-03-16T16:42:00.001-04:00

In high school, my friend Geoff cut a lot of class. Today, he cuts a mean track with his band, Again & Again. Check them out.

Look-Listen of the Day

2011-03-12T14:00:00.002-05:00

Cool video, great song.

Resonant

2011-03-10T14:22:00.001-05:00

A little educational philosophy for you on this gray Thursday afternoon:

"...I enter the classroom with the assumption that we must build "community" in order to create a climate of openness and intellectual rigor. Rather than focusing on issues of safety, I think that a feeling of community creates a sense that there is shared commitment and a common good that binds us. What we all ideally share is the desire to learn--to receive actively knowledge that enhances our intellectual development and our capacity to live more fully in the world."

-bell hooks

What better way to summarize what I do, or at least what I strive for. The challenge, of course, is working within an education system not designed to facilitate this kind of learning, and teaching students who have never encountered education as such a noble pursuit. Still, we work at it, and while I know it's uncomfortable for most of my students, they show me regularly that they like it, that they're learning, and that they're up to the challenge.

Flat bottom pouch you make my rockin' world go 'round

2011-01-04T11:10:00.000-05:00

One of my goals for this year is to sew the patchwork duvet cover I mention below, so to start getting over my fear of THE SEWING MACHINE (scary) I took on this mini project: A flat bottom pouch for my mother.

I followed this tutorial in the hope that mine would come out having some resemblance to this adorable thing:

And so! I did it!

I'm packing it full of my favorite travel survival goods for my Mom's upcoming trip to Colorado.

Emergen-C and hand sanitizer to ward off stale airplane germs, hand lotion, Burt's Bees and eye drops to keep things hydrated in the dry, recirculated airplane air, floss and Altoids to keep feeling fresh even after a three-hour layover and a mini mirror.

Bon Voyage, Mama!

A “Holey” Philosophy

2011-01-03T10:38:00.000-05:00

I'm taking part in No Impact Week with YES! Magazine, an attempt to minimize my negative environmental impact on the planet one day at a time, in preparation for my weekend journey to Eco-Leader training with the No Impact Experiment. The first day involved not buying anything new, today is about not creating waste, and the rest of the week entails eating locally, traveling by non-fossil fuel transport, and conserving energy and water. Below are my first thoughts on the experience so far.

Striving for low impact has been a part of my life for quite some time, so the daily challenges of No Impact Week are not unfamiliar. I compost, carry a handkerchief for blowing my nose and buy locally grown whenever possible in my wintry New England town. I didn't think this week would be much of a stretch.

Day one was a breeze. Not buying anything new came quite easily on a lazy Sunday when, truth be told, I could barely rouse myself from dozing on the couch after a weekend of New Year's festivities. Shopping? Nah. That, plus the fact that I can't think of a single thing that I actually need. I tracked my garbage production throughout the day and made a tidy list.

Actually, it wasn't so tidy. It was quite long. But in my defense, I carefully reasoned, it's not every day that I clear my desk of accumulated papers and junk mail headed for the recycling bin in preparation for my return to work. This was clearly the culprit responsible for this pile of waste. Right?

Later that night, as I flossed and thoughtlessly tossed the refuse in the bin, my thoughts screeched to a halt as I registered this simple, daily act. As my Eco-Dent vegan-friendly recyclable carton dental floss that I'd used for less than a minute went sailing into the trash can, my brain buzzed with dissonance. What was this feeling? And so it was that I began to acknowledge the holes in my carefully crafted eco-philosophy, the omissions and allowances that silently slip beneath the radar.

This morning:
Tomatoes in an over-sized cardboard carton boasting, "New England grown, not too far from here, summertime fresh every day of the year!"

A bag of black tea grown who-knows-where headed for my compost bin, behind which grows (or rather, shivers in wintry gusts) a veritable plantation of wild (though invasive) mint.

A plastic mesh potato bag that's been sitting on my counter top for days, left by a friend after New Year's brunch. It's not mine, I argue, I didn't buy it. I resist claiming it on my list of waste.

Bread. I am facing the upcoming day of truly local eating with local eggs, milk, cheese and butter in hand but without a solid plan for how to produce bread. I can bake it, and I can even buy locally-ground flour from King Arthur 70 miles up the road, but where was that grain grown? I haven't the foggiest.

So I forge ahead, surprised by these questions but relieved to be asking them, to be learning and expanding my awareness through this no impact experiment.

Patchwork Color Match

2010-11-19T10:43:00.000-05:00

I'm scheming up a patchwork duvet cover for my down comforter and am trying to match my color swatch to this photo, which is my design inspiration.

What do you think? How well do the colors match? Which would you adjust? I made the color swatch using Kuler, a fun Adobe program. The hues will look a little different depending on your browser and the angle of your computer screen, but I hope this gives a general idea.

My plan is to send the color swatch to all the crafty folks I know and ask them to send me their scraps that match. Do you want to be included in this community craftiwork? Do you have scraps to share? Drop me a note below if you do.

Hey, You're Okay

2010-10-22T09:40:00.000-04:00

Read the awesome story of this song's genesis over here. How cool is that?

Two Songs

2010-08-26T23:26:00.001-04:00

It's a rare joy when the music at the bar makes the night. Two songs:

A few lovelies

2010-08-25T19:58:00.002-04:00

1. "Desiderata"
...You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should...

2. "Hurricane Angel," by Ellis Paul

3. "How to Be Alone"

4. My new wallpaper

Good Morning

2010-07-08T07:56:00.000-04:00

My day starts here:

That's my new bicycle! Today was the inaugural ride.

And that's my beautiful breakfast.

I love summertime.

Israel: Bethlehem & Being Arab

2010-07-02T10:00:00.002-04:00

We walk out of the city five miles and pass through the military checkpoint to Bethlehem, a city behind the wall. Inside, graffiti and political art and personal messages grace the gray cement expanse, an 8 meter monolith keeping Palestinians in, or out, depending on how you see it. Near the top in spray paint scrawl: "I want my ball back."

We walk up winding streets as cars whiz past, running us down at the heels. I scurry across at intersections to horns echoing everywhere. Everyone honks here, reason or not. It makes me anxious, but Suzi strides along crossing into traffic confidently and, inevitably, they stop for her. I do my best to follow her lead.

We pass through a market along a narrow, claustrophobic path. Vendors stalls on either side spill endless goods into the street. As obvious tourists, we draw a great deal of attention.

"Shalom yes Hello! You are welcome in Bethlehem! Come in!"

We crest the hill and amble down a steep cobbled street to the Church of the Nativity were we wait en masse to see the place where Jesus was born. It was not, as it turns out, in a manger so much a cave, and so the long line of tour bus visitors snakes its way from the back of the church down a stone staircase into the holy depths. The cave is space enough for ten of us to crouch, two at a time, beneath a gilded mantle and run our hands across a silver sixteen-pointed star. I crouch and touch it and pause momentarily, but feel like a lousy pilgrim. Others weep, kiss the stone, lay their faces to the smooth, cold ground.

Back outside, we sit on the curb eating nuts and dried fruit as the call to prayer, a Muslim practice, erupts from a crackling loud speaker overhead. We look out across the valley toward Jerusalem and I spot what look like ruins, crumbling sand-colored rock walls and pillars. I ask Suzi if she knows what it is but she doesn't. Nothing under 700 years old, she says, is really worth knowing here.

On our way back through town, a man calls to us from his shop and we pause long enough for he and Suzi strike up a conversation. Within seconds they have made a mutual connection in Jerusalem and Suzi has discovered that this man is Shabaan the money changer's brother. He offers us similar hospitality to his brother, so we sit drinking coffee awhile in his shop, taking refuge from the summer afternoon. He sits with us between phone calls and tells us about his son, fifteen, a superstar football player who darts in and out of the shop. He tells us also of his former life, before the wall, when he could visit his brother in the city.

"There is no way to solve this now, with the wall," he says. "When I have problem with someone, I talk with them in person. Now, no talking allowed."

We buy ceramic cups and bowls from him and he wishes us well. "You are welcome in Bethlehem," he says as we leave, and we know that this is true.

Before reaching the checkpoint we are drawn into The Dollar Restaurant by the owner who, recognizing Suzi from her last visit, insists that we stay for lunch. He is a swindler, a master salesman who orders for us from a non-existent menu with a wave of the hand to his waiter. "I don't know how you spend, but is okay. Don't worry about price. Chicken sandwich, it is the best in Israel! You will have that. Salad? No, no salad. Oh okay, salad, medium? No, large! Large salad. Okay."

He bustles about the restaurant as we wait for our food and pauses intermittently to sell us a tale. He talks with his hands, the big meaty palms of a well-fed Arab man, and warns us about Jordan. "Don't go there!" he says. "They are terrible, try to sell you everything and take your money! Jordan, pfft."

We eat quickly, the sandwiches just mediocre and the salads truly terrible, and pay more than they were worth. On our way out the door he impresses upon us how decent a price he has charged. "You find a salad like this cheaper anywhere in the world, you come back! I give you your money. If anyone asks, you tell them 'Big salad! With cheese!' like this one and see if they can beat my price. I tell you, no, they cannot."

As we leave we laugh, dropping our leftover salads which he insisted we take in an alleyway dumpster. "Being an Arab man is all about who you know," says Suzi, and now Mr. Dollar Restaurant knows us. Reaching Bethlehem's edge we pass back through the security checkpoint, our American passports greenlighting us out of the West Bank and out from the behind the wall.

Israel: Stories, Belief

2010-06-28T14:21:00.000-04:00

Late afternoon, we pass through Jaffa Gate into the old city Jerusalem under stone arches three meters thick. Once inside, the scale changes: narrow walks and tight corridors pressed in on either side by vendors' wares: leather bags and sandals, beads and glass, ceramics, cookware, hardware, sweets. Gauzy fabric slung across open passages dims these spaces and makes them glow. We serpentine past watchful salesmen leaning in doorways trying to catch our eyes, then turn the corner into an open courtyard where throngs of tourists are gathered outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Said to be the place where Jesus was crucified, suffered and was buried, this spot draws Christian Pilgrims from the world around. In one corner of the courtyard is a "bomb box," a gray, metal, spherical container for stuffing ticking bombs, backpacks, individuals, should they appear in the square.

In 326 A.D., Roman Emperor Constantine ordered his mother Helena to erect churches on sites that commemorated the life of Jesus Christ. And so, upon this site Helena was said to have discovered during excavation the tomb and true cross of one Lamb of God. Hotly debated and historically questionable, this claim holds sway over the hallowed structure and over so many willing believers. Outside, a ladder said to be unmoved for generations leans against an upper wall. The various Christian sects that claim ownership of this place stand in such opposition to one another that they cannot agree on where or even how to move it. Impartial Muslims hold the keys to the church, locking and unlocking it each day to avoid further inter-sect conflict. We cover our shoulders and go in.

Inside, women swoon at the stone where Jesus bled; they kiss the rock, pour oil, rub crucifixes and rosaries carried from afar. One woman dumps a small plastic shopping bag of WWJD bracelets on the altar and pushes them around, perhaps to absorb some of the holiness. I watch solemn, holy faces and bowed heads from a balcony just beyond and wonder what it's like to believe the way these people do. We forego the cramped line waiting to enter Jesus's tomb and explore dark, forgotten caves instead. Aside from its storied holiness, this church seems to me little more than a dank cellar space.

Outside, the market bustles like Algodones and we wind our way to the Arab quarter where Suzi's money changer gives us the best rate in town. As is his custom, Shaaban invites us into his shop for Arabic coffee, sweet and rich like molasses, from small plastic cups ordered by phone from a boy in a stall down the lane. We sit amid ornately painted cups and bowls, shawls and scarves of every color and camels carved of olive wood. Shaaban's nephew badgers us gently: "You can take pictures of our shop. Take pictures of our shop! Take pictures. Just one of me and Suzi." She obliges. He asks of our travel plans and invites us to his home in Hebron. "On Saturday, I will take you. You will come?"

As we leave, a chaotic collection of young Arab boys runs shouting down the lane, all bike wheels and sneaker treads and clanging, excited voices. I step quickly to avoid a collision with one as another runs headlong into my side. He looks up at me, eyes twinkling and grinning, and laughs.

We wind our way back toward Jaffa Gate where an outdoor bar under a stone passageway is showing the U.S.-Algeria Wold Cup game on a projector screen suspended from the mouth of a stone archway. We sit amid fans rooting for the only Arab team in the tournament and drink overpriced Palestinian beer, cheering and gasping as the competition takes shape. The afternoon sun is setting against the white walls of the old city, reflecting a gentle light down the length of the passageway where we sit. The breeze against my neck is a relief. After every Algerian near miss or slide tackle, our fellow patrons go mad. When the U.S. scores in the last minutes of stoppage time to break the 0-0 tie, we woop and holler and find two small groups of Americans nearby doing the same. We high five, then sheepishly find our seats.

As the sun sinks, we filter out of the bar and head for the Wailing Wall where Ultra-Orthodox families gather and divide, women to one side and men to the other. An ambulance unloads a stretcher where an old, ailing Jewish man with a long gray beard lays, and medics with sidearms wheel him toward the wall. On the womens' side, a set of shelves of holy books lines one side as visitors walk backwards away from the wall so as to not turn their backs on God. Suzi and I find our way toward the front where girls and women press prayer books to faces and rock back and forth, lips moving quickly, eyes closed. I watch them in their unselfconscious acts of public piety, surrounded by a community of like minded souls. The crevices in the wall before us are crammed to the gills with slips of paper, prayers placed their on the hope that the wall's magic will hold true. According to our guide book, prayers placed here are thought to have "higher than average odds of being heard and answered by God." Funny how sometimes faith and playing the odds are not so different from one another.

The blue light of dusk settles around the Old City as we walk atop the ancient wall up the hill toward Abu Tor. Green lights of neighborhood mosques glint on, dotting the city night.

Israel: Desert Divided

2010-06-24T11:07:00.001-04:00

We wake, the morning sun blazing off bright white walls of the Abu Tor apartment. I try to remind myself not to think about the middle of the night, which the dusty corners of my brain still think it is. We eat cherries and apricots from yesterday's shuk (market), peel away the spiky rose-colored skin of a lychee and sink into its white, sweet flesh. It's smooth and glistens eerily and reminds me of an eyeball, but I eat it anyway; it tastes vaguely like grape. Passionfruit's leathery peel gives way to greenish-purple seeds in yellow slime which we drink like oysters from the shell. They are tart; my mouth shrivels around them and I think of grapefruits. Everything here is almost like something I've known before.

After breakfast we walk the Promenade through the Peace Forest, stopping along the way to gaze down into the Gehenna (loosely translated, the Valley of Hell) where biblical folks once sacrificed children and piled their waste. Now, just beyond is a densely populated hillside, one of few Arab neighborhoods remaining on this side of the wall. Separated from their land and their families, they stay and wait the day when they will be extricated for no better reason than: we can. Israel doesn't want them here; they are a nuisance. Citizens of nowhere, granted no rights, no papers to escape they are simply trapped, taking up space in a city pressed tightly on either side by encroaching desert and political tension. Israel denies that it's apartheid. I wonder what else it could possibly be.

As we walk my neck prickles in the heat, the smell of sun-warmed pine needles and parched soil reminding me of the Yuha. The polished limestone underfoot gleams under the rising sun as red ants march in long strains carrying crumbs and dust and treasure. We approach a gated, razor-wired UN complex, the tall black letters dashed across every surface. Nearby, a tour group gathers for a concert on the terrace, a man's nasal voices crackling in unrefined tones across a loud speaker. He sings in Hebrew as school kids with hired armed guards lean on fences and cluster in sunhats around the show.

We climb up out of the park and cross a road, ambling our way up a small rise looking south across a bone-dry landscape. Someone has hauled mattresses and couches into a mini-arroyo. Stray cats slink between shadows and we stare into the southern valley toward Bethlehem. The Herodian, Herod's palace carved inside a conical mountain of his construction, rises oddly in terraced layers from the hilly expanse. Tomorrow we will walk there, crossing the wall into a Palestinian, Arab, Muslim, separate world.

We wind our way home to the apartment passing back through the park, rounding the bend to find two young soldiers with M-16s slung at their hips. They lounge casually on a park bench, one texting on his cell phone while the other hangs his head lazily, one foot propped up on the bench, his knee under his chin.

Israel: Sunset in City Center, Jerusalem

2010-06-23T07:44:00.000-04:00

We head to the open air market in a time zone haze, pausing along the way to point out the Dome on the Rock, the Old City, the wall separating us from the West Bank. The afternoon sun is white, hot and oppressive. The city feels familiar, if only in its urbanness, similar in a hundred ways to any other city: traffic sounds, busy sidewalks, shops full of cheap plastic crap. Jewish girls with black hair and brown eyes drink espresso and smoke cigarettes at a sidewalk cafe. We pause outside a bar to watch a minute of the World Cup game between France and South Africa commentated in Hebrew. Suzi catches a few words and phrases; I am reminded how far from home we are, though it doesn't feel that way.

At the market, the smell of fish laid gaping on tables mixes with garbage and spices rusty red and mustard yellow and fills the air. Burlap sacks overflow with cashews and pecans next to barrels of fruits I've never seen: lychees, passionfruit. Olives in all colors bob in vats on tables where men shout sales pitches in garbled dialect to one another along the line. Orthodox men in proper suits and hats pass by, curls framing their faces and blowing in the desert wind. Boys hold their kippahs tightly to their heads as they scurry between cars zipping past.

Everywhere, bi-lingual signs hock deals, Hebrew letters curling and exclaiming above blocky English text. "She can speak English to me," the felafel man says to Suzi, gesturing to me. She is translating sauces and spices and vegetables, paying in shekels as I stand mesmerized by the choices and the bustling corner where we've crammed into the tiny shop with fourteen other people. We eat at a dirty table by the roadside as the sun sets and the wind picks up. On the walk home, we turn into an alley near Suzi's apartment and a man, peeing in the corner, mutters as we pass by. Once home, I am asleep within 30 minutes and do not stir for 12 hours.

Travels: Israel

2010-06-22T09:54:00.000-04:00

Boston take-off. 8 hours, AlItalia, cramped bucket seats. Dinner then breakfast, the blink of an eye. World's worst in-flight movie. Rome layover: Latte, brioche in the middle of the night. Outside, a sunny Italian day. Brusque woman runs me down at the terminal gate, doesn't glance back. Three hours to Tel Aviv. Harried shuttle across the scrub land to Jerusalem, starry-eyed Jewish boys gushing life's every wonder across every kilometer. 9 Gihon, Suzi's apartment, desert winds across open air, tapestries waving in the windows. Today became tomorrow somewhere over the Mediterranean.

What It's Like

2010-05-25T14:49:00.000-04:00

I pick up a piece of paper from the table in my classroom and turn it over. Written on the back in one corner in small letters, someone has written "hooters hooters hooters."

Later, I am grading assignments at the picnic table in the school yard. I lift up my grade book and find, etched in pencil "420 4 life."

This is what it's like working at an all-boys high school.

The District

2010-05-09T18:54:00.001-04:00

They say they're worth a million, so I'll post these for now and save myself the words. The short version is that I took a trip to DC last month to visit my pal and see the place and walk around a whole bunch. Mission: accomplished. Stories with words to come, eventually.

Energy Star: Green Washing?

2010-04-14T08:17:00.000-04:00

I heard a worthwhile story this morning on NPR about Energy Star and how it's not exactly all it's cracked up to be.

The essential detail: for a product to become approved as "energy efficient" by the Department of Energy through the Energy Star program, all a manufacturer has to do is self-certify. In other words, the manufacturer just has to say, "Why yes, of course our product is energy efficient." To prove it, all they have to do is submit their own data from internal tests and studies.

Significantly: "In a recent test by the Government Accountability Office, the agency submitted 20 completely bogus products for Energy Star certification. Of the 20 applications, 15 were approved — including one for a gasoline-powered alarm clock."

I hate to cast a negative light on any efforts made by consumers to green up their lives and minimize their footprints, but I think this is an important thing to know. Let's spend our efforts where they really matter, not on things that may make us feel we're doing something but mean very little. Of course, feeling like we're doing something good is absolutely critical to continuing the crusade. But actually doing something is pretty important too. You know, to the earth and whatnot.

Granite State of Mind

2010-04-04T16:56:00.002-04:00

Just brilliant. Holler to the 603.

Health Care: Constitutional?

2010-03-29T20:09:00.003-04:00

In light of the Sarah "I-can-see-Alaska-from-my-house!" Palin/Tea Party shitstorm in Nevada over the weekend, three useful paragraphs from Yale Law Professor Jack Balkin on the constitutionality of the individual mandate on health care:

"The new law keeps insurance companies from denying coverage because of preexisting conditions or from imposing lifetime caps on coverage. The individual mandate makes these popular aspects of health care reform possible.

Without an individual mandate people will wait until they become sick to buy health insurance, raising insurance premiums for others and undermining the ability to spread risk that is necessary for private insurance markets. Requiring people to make a choice between buying health insurance or paying a tax gives people incentives to act responsibly and not attempt to game the system.

The Constitution gives Congress the power to tax and spend money for the general welfare. This tax promotes the general welfare because it makes health care more widely available and affordable. Under existing law, therefore, the tax is clearly constitutional."

-via NYTimes

Thank you. That is all.

:: Love ::

2010-03-23T21:43:00.000-04:00

In an e-mail to my love while he travels the world:

Still, it's passing rather quickly and I have been very grateful for this time to just live in my life and rely on myself and realize some important things: 1. I am surrounded by friends and love 2. The world is an amazing place 3. I am stronger than I realize 4. I am afraid of a lot of things, but I can get through them because I am strong 5. Everything is temporary...namely, my worries and anxieties and biggest fears, if I can only see them through 6. This is such an important journey that I am so grateful and proud to be on...

Its' important, this thing that I'm learning about love, the way it comes from within.

Health Care: Roll Out

2010-03-21T19:19:00.001-04:00

So. Healthcare. Sort of a big deal right now. But hell if I have a clue what they've been talking about or any real understanding about what it all means. This nice little explanation from Rachel Maddow breaks it down into when certain things will come into effect once Obama passes the bill. It all looks good. Except, 2014? What if Obama doesn't get reelected? And, what about the whole universal health care bit? When will it be time for me to leap into the ether of the unknown and pursue my passions without the constraint of having to stay in a job I don't love just for the health care? Huh, Nancy Pelosi?

"Ms. Pelosi said the bill would free people to pursue their dreams without having to worry about being bankrupted by medical bills or losing health insurance when they switch jobs.

“It’s liberating legislation,” Ms. Pelosi said. “It’s to free Americans to live their passion, reach their aspirations without being job-locked because they have to have health care..."

-via NYTimes

Oh well, one step at a time, I guess. And admittedly, this first step is huge. Nice one, O. Oh heck yes.

Spring Sushi

2010-03-21T10:39:00.001-04:00

My roommate and I hosted a Make-Your-Own-Sushi Party yesterday afternoon, stealing the last of the warm, sunny weather and entertaining on our back porch.

We made lemonade and kombucha for the party table and let the daylight and daffodils do the rest.

I regrettably did not get any shots of the rolling in action, but our friends revealed themselves true sushi masters. We provided the nori, rice, and wasabi and they brought all the fillings.

Avocado, peppers, carrots, smoked salmon, spicy mayo, cucumbers...

Everyone labeled their rolls creatively...

...and came up with amazing combinations. We feasted, drank craft beers from across New England, played games in the living room and were in bed by 10 o'clock.

Dishes can always wait til another day...

Dan Barber + Sustainability = Love

2010-03-19T21:44:00.001-04:00

My brother passed this TED talk, How I Fell in Love With a Fish, along to me this week and it is the single-most inspiring and thought-provoking thing I've encountered recently. Chef Dan Barber reports on his love affair with sustainability, and with a particular fish in Spain being raised truly, impeccably responsibly. His talk is brilliant and witty and just so goddamn sensible that I may just make my own TED talk entitled How I Fell in Love With Dan Barber.

If you care at all about food (origins or delicious qualities thereof) or your health or the great green earth that we're spinning on, you should watch this clip. It's 20-minutes long and will be, I assure you, some of the most worthwhile minutes you'll spend all week.

Look!

2010-03-18T21:15:00.001-04:00

These are lovely for decluttering your desktop. I snapped up the kite one for this week along with a few others that I loved like deft birds, subway train and flying horse. Hooray for simple, pretty designs.

Five-Day

2010-03-17T13:48:00.001-04:00

I've got a couple things up my sleeve for the approaching gorgeous weekend:

Like maybe a little reading on the deck in my sunhat. Oh yeah...

...and maybe some potting seeds for summer basil, re-potting straggly winter survivors, catching up with an old friend in from New York, hosting an afternoon sushi party on the porch, calling together my crafty friends and playing a little Ultimate. Or, I may just snooze in the sun all weekend long. Sounds good to me.

Sprung

2010-03-16T19:47:00.002-04:00

Spring is here, at least for today. I walked downtown to the library, then sat on our deck for the first time and read in the sun. Later, I made chili and ate dinner on our other porch, watching the sun go down close to 7 o'clock. The late sunset almost makes up for the morning darkness, but soon, daylight will book end my day.

I love the passing of winter into spring.

Good For What Ails Me

2010-03-15T17:56:00.000-04:00

Last week's busy schedule + the erratic weather + the changing season + daylight savings + being a teacher + the regular challenges in my head and heart = sick, again. Boo.

But, I've been doing some fun, colorful things and I've been needing to share them with you to keep the energy and spirit alive at AlloLune. My quietness around here always mirrors my stuck-ness, mentally or emotionally, somewhere else, and I'd much rather be here, unstuck, unquiet.

So:

I made this hat last fall but only recently finished it for good. I fixed the shape and added the tassels and now just have to find someone whose head is smaller than mine to wear it. Ha...oops.

I ate an entirely orange lunch, by accident. Clementine + carrots + tomato basil bagel. Yes.

I made these wood bead earrings. I love them.

I soaked black beans with cannellinnis and they all turned purple.

I made a hat for Mike. The gauge ended up bigger than I would have liked, it took a million tries to get it right, and it's a bit of a rough finish, but oh well. It's soft and warm and just in time for spring. Hmm...

Week In Review

2010-03-07T22:02:00.001-05:00

Birds

Here are a few things I've been saving up all week and rolling around in my head, a few things that have made me think and smile and love the world.

1. Sage wisdom from SouleMama to take good care of ourselves and honor time for just us. She quotes:

"...understand that to nurture and love others with the grace you desire means taking care of yourself and cultivating your own inner harmony."
~Peggy O'Mara, The Way Back Home

I've been thinking about this a lot lately as I strive to make myself more relevant in my own life and find the things that feed my heart and calm my mind, bring me joy and fill me up. Lately it's been blogging, knitting and reading. They are little five-minute crushes that I hope will turn into much more.

2. A cool little story on NPR about herbal medicinals from a young British botanist who makes them sound like a smart, sensible and natural way to heal ourselves and make life better. This story makes me want to own herbal field guides and grow a garden of soothing stuff this summer.

3. SARK! Crazy, lovely SARK and her outside-the-box approach to everything from standing in line to really loving ourselves by embracing our imperfections. This is a lesson I can afford to keep learning and learning and I appreciate the reminder that I'm not the only one on this journey. Check out the heartening and thought-provoking article over at Crazy Sexy Life. Who wants to lie down at the bank with me?

4. "How To Talk to a Climate Skeptic." This is what I'm teaching at school right now. This week we'll be staging a debate to wrap our heads around all the crazy information and misinformation clogging the works around climate change action today. This Grist collection of articles is a great, great resource containing invaluable ammunition for setting the record straight. Love it.

Today

2010-03-03T19:08:00.003-05:00

Today was not my favorite. I woke up feeling sad. I had to return to work after a long break. My students were gross and rude and unmotivated. The parking lot was oozing with mud. We had a pointless meeting. I spent a half-hour on hold with the wrong people about my student loans. A recorded robot voice reminded me how much, oh so much, I owe. My apartment is cold.

But, these are okay.

And eating one before dinner with a glass of milk was also okay. Finally making them after setting that stick of butter on my kitchen counter to thaw two weeks ago is okay. Looking forward to a good dinner is okay. And knitting, and going to bed early. These are both okay.

I'm okay today.

Piano Man

2010-03-02T18:52:00.007-05:00

My grandfather, my dad's dad, passed away two weeks ago at the age of 86. We traveled to Michigan to honor his life and say goodbye, though for me it was more a time of getting to know someone I'd only ever loved from a distance. Half a country separated me from him for my entire life, but my memories of him are still strong.

In the living room in the house where I grew up, a Chickering upright piano sits against the wall, waiting. Its ivory keys were rarely played by anyone in my house, but when Grandma and Grandpa came to visit the instrument, and our home, came alive. Grandpa spent hours sitting on the floor, tuning and tinkering and testing it out to get the pitch just right, making it sing. Then he would play and play. I remember the thundering sound that filled the house and the way his fingers danced across the keys, his hands spread wide and his eyes darting widely. I would stand beside him watching intently and when he finished, he would look up at me and grin.

My grandfather was the piano man. When he died, a friend sent well wishes to the family insisting that the music in heaven, lucky for them, had just improved. The wake took place in the funeral home where he had played the organ for thirty years in the city where, as a 21-year-old kid, he had filled in for the pianist of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. He played and tuned and taught lessons across the city for his entire career, making music and supporting his family of seven.

When I knew him he was witty and active and warm, always jumping at the chance for a play on words, a brisk walk or an opportunity to tell us all how happy it made him to have us all together. Tears would fill his eyes and the words would catch in the back of his throat. He would bring his fist to his heart and stand there grinning through the tears, making me regret, every time, the distance that kept us from spending more time together.

I wasn't there when his mind started to go. It happened fast, or so it seemed. Five years from my last living memory of him and what fills the space between is a series of stories told to me secondhand. The world stopped making sense to him, his home and his family familiar but lost in a swirl of cognition and confusion. Perhaps I'm lucky. My last memories of him were really him, at his best. Still, so much life happens between visits, across state lines and when we're busy doing other things. How much I have missed.

"It's a blessing," my grandmother repeated over and over as we moved from the wake to the service to the burial. He was simply finished living, had lived a good, long life and was ready to move on. It was the music, as we hugged each other and shook hands with strangers, as we prayed over him and put him in the ground, that made me not ready to let go.

A former student of his played violin at his funeral. A family friend played my grandfather's signature piano piece, Debussy's Clair de Lune, before we left the church. A naval officer played Taps as we stood, motionless, in the cemetery. A chill ran through me with every note.

It's strange to say I'll miss him, his absence from my daily life nothing out of the ordinary, but I will. I'll keep expecting him to show up at family gatherings. I'll keep seeing him in the white haired, fast-paced men on the street. I'll keep waiting to see him again, waiting for the piano to sing. At least I know the music will be good when I get there.

Here's to you, Grandpa.

Listen to Clair de Lune.

Closing Ceremony: High & Low

2010-03-01T09:00:00.004-05:00

High
Michael J. Fox loves Canada. We love Michael J. Fox, even if he'll always be Alex P. Keaton to me.

Low
Canada wraps things up with an embarrassing caricature of itself, as if to say, "Here are all the reasons we're the butt of the world's jokes." Inflatable beavers. Overly enthusiastic lumberjacks. Mounties galore, eh? As my brother suggested, the only thing missing was maple syrup being drizzled from the ceiling. Ugh. Shameful.

Unsurprisingly Delicious

2010-02-28T19:15:00.000-05:00

Smitten Kitchen, one of my favorite food blogs, has a neat little feature on the front page called "Surprise Me" which, naturally, directs you randomly to any one of the thousands of beautiful, delicious recipes found on SK. Living on the edge as I so often do (snort), I hit Surprise Me earlier this week and landed on Acorn Squash and Gorgonzola Pizza.

Photo via Smitten Kitchen, though ours came out looking just like it. Score.

Well! We made it last night, and it was so good. I loved the simplicity of it and the subtle flavors...not too many competing spices, but the tangy gorgonzola, sweet squash and earthy arugula were great complements of one another. It's the perfect seasonal cross-over food with winter squash and springtime greens. This one's a keeper. I recommend making one for yourself, or getting your own Surprise if you're feeling sassy.

Joy

2010-02-27T12:09:00.005-05:00

26

Elena Brower at Crazy Sexy Life writes eloquently about something I've been feeling accutely in recent months as I quest for balance, work through difficult emotional habits and attempt to stay present and patient in a state of slow (slooow, seemingly imperceptible at times) but steady progress. She writes:

As a collective, we long to find “home” within ourselves. In my search for home I’ve traversed ashrams, meditation, drugs, seva, chanting, yoga, childbirth, parenthood, teaching, social networking and back. What I’ve found is that our true home is a place of fearlessness in the heart—your heart, my heart, every heart. Furthermore, and much more importantly, home is not some fixed point toward which we aspire; it is a steadily expanding state...Now comes the practical question: How do we uphold this expansive awareness in our real-life interactions? How can this fact of eternal, ever-present expansion keep us from contracting within ourselves [and reacting] when we encounter challenging moments during a regular day?

I am blessed to know that feeling of home in myself, to have felt the fearlessness of my own ever-expanding heart, but still (and always) the day-to-day moments are challenging. So challenging, sometimes. But I am bolstered to read about others on this journey, as I think we all are, and I am grateful for the reminder, an opportunity to recognize the progress I have made as I continue on.

Birthday Braid

2010-02-26T16:57:00.005-05:00

I just finished this blue hue braided scarf for my mother's birthday on February 7th. Ahem.

At least it's still the right month! Happy belated birthday, Mom.

I saw a scarf like this one in a store this winter and thought, "I could make that," and I was right. It was fun and easy.

I knitted/purled three long strands in three shades of blue. Knit, purl, knit, purl, knit, purl...

Then I braided them and tacked it all together with stitches at a few places along the length.

Voila!

Wisdom in the Blogosphere

2010-02-26T09:47:00.006-05:00

I found this blog recently through a friend and, though I haven't read much yet, am inspired by what is there. The short passage below from her "About Me" section shines with wisdom.

via SouleMama:

Most importantly, please do remember that what you see on a blog is not 'all' of a person's life. For me, my blog is a place of daily peace, a reminder of family joys, and a celebration of creativity. Know that there are as many messes in my house as yours, 'raised voices' from time to time, and frustration and sadness and struggle, too. But for me - this blog space has always been about trying to find and focus on the joys - the everyday beauty and moments of bliss that we have together as a family. It's my hope that it can serve as a reminder and an encouragement to me - and perhaps to you, too - to savor the tiny moments.

This week I've been sorting through the internet-induced clutter in my brain and refining my approach to browsing the web. I'm replacing my old, dark haunts--Facebook, blogs of anxious women--that bring and breed negative energy with more joyful things. With beauty, creativity, peace.

I believe that the internet is both an incredibly powerful tool for building community and expanding the imagination and an emotionally dangerous place where one can easily lose her footing. It's happened to me. Things I've read on blogs about someone else's struggles and triumphs has eaten away at my soul in moments of my own insecurity. We are, I think, quick to assume that what others put on the web about their lives is the whole story and, no less significantly, the truth. I appreciate SouleMama's reminder that life is so much more complex than a pixelated view of it could ever hope to convey. I'm also inspired by her commitment to recognizing and honoring joy and beauty as it happens.

My list of links at right is ever evolving as I create the kind of web world where I want to be. Check out SouleMama, and stay tuned for more worthy web destinations as I find them out there.

New!

2010-02-25T16:16:00.003-05:00

The grass is getting greener around here. Perhaps my very-much-alive new banner will bring a little spring to this wintery, gray, slushy day.

Joy

2010-02-25T09:51:00.007-05:00

25
Pretty Things

Photo via Crazy Sexy Life

I love this room...colorful, a little rustic, comfortable, bright. It makes me want to do some quilting, which I have never done, particularly in light of my recent battle between i want simplicity versus I WANT STUFF! More on that soon...

Joy

2010-02-24T22:26:00.003-05:00

24
Oh!...so this is what I want to do!

I'm always thinking and talking in passionate exclamations about how organizations and companies and individuals could do things better, smarter, more sustainably and efficiently!

I spent two years getting a Master's degree called Environmental Education but found the most interest in classes about group dynamics, program evaluation and assertive leadership.

I've raved on and on about Gibran Rivera and the Interaction Institute, but hadn't really stopped to consider whether what they do is part of a larger field with an actual name.

Until, well, until my roommate hit the nail on the head.

"You're going to end up working in organizational development, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, as everything clicked suddenly and definitively into place.

"I am."

Love

2010-02-14T14:59:00.000-05:00

Joy

2010-02-14T10:00:00.007-05:00

23
Saturday

Making breakfast at the farm

Watching people fly...completely breathtaking

Taking a steamy afternoon soak

Watching kids I used to know perform for love at the circus

Feeling our worlds collide to foot-stomping "zoograss" at Flat Street

Joy

2010-02-11T21:51:00.006-05:00

22

"I am a complete slave to vocabulary. I ought to have named my cat Roget."

-Renee

I love words, how they fit together on paper and in my head. I love the way they bend and swoon around each other and rise and fall in tones. I love their rhythm and cadence. I love my love for words, and I loved this line in my most recent read. It's perfect and charming and true.

Joy

2010-02-09T21:50:00.003-05:00

21
Surprise Authentic Mexican and College Hockey

Mike took me on a surprise adventure last Friday. It began with dinner "South of the border" in Massachusetts at a Mexican place. They served mole. That's how you know it's good.

Then, we watched my BC Eagles wallop UMass at a real live game. It had been way too long since I'd seen hockey in real life. My Canadian heritage was weeping. It was a blowout game, but so, so fun.

Joy: About Time

2010-02-05T15:45:00.006-05:00

I haven't been keeping up here with my joyful list, but I've still been logging it, still noticing, still jotting things down in my little black Moleskine. Yes, days pass and I fret that I haven't found something to be joyful about. Afternoons come and go and the color of the winter sky does little more than make me wish for summer. But, in other moments, I'm overflowing. It's not feast or famine. It's just practice...practice at slowing down enough to notice, practice at looking small, practicing joy. So far I like it.

Here are a few of the things I've been tucking away and wishing I was sharing with you:

17
Gliding on cross-country skis

18
"You're a happy girl."
"Yes."

19
Mix CDs for friends

Girls Rock
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper
Poker Face - Lady Gaga
You Can't Hurry Love - Diana Ross & The Supremes
I'm Not Crying For You - Save Ferris
I Feel It All - Feist
My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson
Black Magic - Eve
Freedom Time - Lauryn Hill
U + Ur Hand - P!nk
Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pat Benetar
Volcano Girl - Veruca Salt
The Con - Tegan and Sara
Cue the Rain - Queen Latifah
A Different Kind of Love Song - Cher
Piece of My Heart - Janis Joplin
Ain't No Mountain High Enough - Diana Ross
Xs and Os - Trisha Yearwood
Thank You For Being a Friend - Golden Girls

20
Playing ultimate frisbee on ice:

Joy

2010-01-24T15:45:00.003-05:00

16
Blue winter hills

I would paint you this picture if I could. Each day I climb over the mountain and descend into the Connecticut River valley as wood smoke and the sun rise simultaneously and glitteringly into the Vermont sky. This week was blessed with near-constant snow flurries and as I rounded the final bend each day, the sun marched over my shoulders from the east and scattered a million diamonds across the landscape. The hills layer upon one another in the fore and the distance as white pines, blue spruce and hemlock that blanket the hillsides sigh under snow flakes and recede into subtle hues of blue and violet. Fog rises over the river, snaking north along my route. I cross over the covered bridge and find the day waiting on the other side to greet me.

Joy

2010-01-20T21:56:00.007-05:00

15
Ladies' Weekend

Meg was behind the shutter for this one.

Here it is almost the weekend again and I've been totally, utterly jam packed to the gills with stuff to do since returning from last weekend, which involved a whirlwind trip to Boston for a reunion with my best grad school girls.

And, joy of joys, what a weekend it was:

Having all seven of us together again, same as ever. Laughing until I couldn't breathe playing Apples to Apples. Making decisions like Antiochians do. Wandering down city sidewalks with elbows linked. The best eggplant burger on English muffin at the best seat in the house, in front of the fireplace, at Christopher's in Porter Square. Drinking enormous beers at the sloppiest dive bar on Boylston. Questing for jelly beans...perseverance conquers all. Getting silly. Sarcasm. Ripping on each other. Smiling 'til my face hurt. Leading my gals around downtown; knowing Boston. Hugs. Car rides to catch up. Snuggling in the mornings, hungover on food and wine. Playing in the park. Bead shopping, bra shopping, blowout deal clothes shopping. Being downtown Boston for sunset. Remembering all over again why I miss these girls so much.

Joy

2010-01-19T21:30:00.004-05:00

14
Feist: The Reminder

I just love this album; its rise and fall, the rhythmic variety, her voice. I could listen to it every day. In fact, I do.

Joy

2010-01-15T23:36:00.007-05:00

13
The Moth

Emily & Jared's living room, the wood stove burning, potluck-style eats, beer and wine and stories, oh the stories. This month's theme: Lost or Stolen. Nights like tonight make me love my life.

Joy

2010-01-14T21:31:00.002-05:00

12
My BLM belt buckle

Hello, I spent nine months saving the desert and earned this ball-bustin' belt buckle as my reward for surviving. I tell people it stops bullets. It might. I am incredibly badass.

But really, I am so thrilled to finally have a belt to wear it on. Good work, New Mexico.

Joy

2010-01-13T20:16:00.005-05:00

11
My cozy room

When I moved in, I drew it so it would come to be.

Then, it came to be!

This is the place I look forward to getting to at the end of every day.

Joy

2010-01-12T21:23:00.005-05:00

10
A really lovely dinner together

Spicy, creamy, savory, hot plus tangy, sweet, salty rim tequila plus easy conversation, stories to share, laughter, smiling, comfort. Joy.

Joy

2010-01-11T19:00:00.003-05:00

9
Catharthis

Aristotle was right. Telling it to someone who's listening and understanding, bringing it all to light--even if it's ugly and sad--is joyful.

Joy

2010-01-10T15:10:00.004-05:00

8
Down time
I can't remember the last time I found myself with extra time on the weekend. I'm staying in, writing a bit, crafting a little, cleaning, doing laundry and cooking. It's not that I'm not busy, I guess. Just free.

Joy

2010-01-10T14:57:00.004-05:00

7
Positive experience at the grocery check-out

Maybe it's just me, but oftentimes checking out gets the better of me. There's a lot going on! I'm unloading the cart and getting my bags in the right place and paying and signing and trying to watch the monitor, leaping to bag my own stuff and be extra nice to the employees (I was a cashier once. Be nice to your cashiers, people.) and manage my keys and wallet and credit card and mittens and button my coat and get out of the way quickly so as not to hold up the next person oh god! But sometimes it's fine and everyone's nice and I manage to keep it all together and I walk away feeling victorious. Yesterday, that happened. Hooray.

Joy

2010-01-08T20:48:00.004-05:00

6
Singing in the car

All those old songs I know by heart, out loud, on the drive to work.

Joy

2010-01-07T15:58:00.004-05:00

5
Teaching Science

"Is there more, less, or the same amount of water on Earth today as 1,000 years ago?"

"Less! Wait."

"MORE! Ice caps melting."

"NO! Ice is water, dummy."

"Humans! Humans use water. We need it! LESS!"

"So the water I just drank doesn't exist on Earth anymore? Okay, so say I die. I know, it's very sad, you come to the funeral, whatever. My body is cremated. What happens to all that water in my body then?"

"It burns and turns into steam!"

"And then?"

"Clouds. Rain!"

"So now the water that was in my body is falling from the sky and turns into a puddle that you just stepped in. Way to go. Thanks."

"..."

"So it's the same amount of water as 1,000 years ago?"

"Good."

Engaged brains, creative minds, curious hearts, humor. Some days, my job brings joy.

Joy

2010-01-06T17:37:00.006-05:00

3
Morning Oatmeal

Rolled oats, crushed pecans, dried cranberries, chopped apples, maple syrup and butter followed by a steaming cup of tea for the ride in. This is my perfect morning.

4
Milestones

A love letter on the occasion of one year.

Joy

2010-01-05T20:05:00.005-05:00

2
Savasana

Total relaxation, all tension gone, heat emanating from my body, organs sinking into one another, limbs sinking into the floor. Heart quiet. A challenging yoga class followed by an extended moment of bliss.

Joy

2010-01-04T19:36:00.005-05:00

1
Roasted Vegetables

Potatoes, sweet potatoes, eggplant, onion, garlic oh god roasted garlic, olive oil, rosemary, red pepper flakes, dash basil, touch dill, salt, pepper.

Mid-Winter Musings

2010-01-03T12:15:00.003-05:00

Just stopping by to say, apropos of nothing, that I want to spend summer in New England this year. Camping in warm weather, hiking bluebacked mountain peaks, canning local fruits into tight-sealed jars, basking in green grass, visiting the ocean, riding my bicycle everywhere. Yes, I think that's what I'll do. Come visit!

Howl

2009-12-29T14:04:00.005-05:00

Outside, the wind howls. Inside, the farm house windows rattle and the cats sleep curled in on themselves in chairs by the wood stove. The pony stands patiently in her stall. Potter barks at squirrels, then settles at our feet. We read. Mike keeps the stove fed and I draw a bath, steaming in the morning light.

Later we spread raspberry jam on crusty bread and drink steaming cups of hot chocolate. After noon Mike gets restless, heading out to find something active and industrious to do: shovel the pond, feed the horse an apple. I am content by the stove. He snaps photos outside and I click words on the screen. Soon I'll be back to reading.

Yesterday, we snowshoed down quiet trails through the woods, the blue sun beaming off the half-frozen brook, bubbling and gurgling and sighing with the season. The dog raced ahead and circled back, panting steaming breath into the unseasonably warm air. Sweat rose at the back of my neck under too many layers as I tromped effortfully up steep hills. Later, red wine and dinner. Ice skating. Tea. A soak in the tub. Flickering candles and Billie Holiday. A big bed under down covers. The skeletons of dancing trees visible from the window under bright purple moonlight.

Trying on someone else's life; housesitting. It probably doesn't feel quite this way to them: quiet, slow, spacious. We absorb what we want and leave the rest, imagining if it were ours. We'd insulate, we say, but would do well with chickens. Bright yellow yolks in the morning pan and something to care for each day.

They spent a year in India with their young children. We wonder about the Fullbright teaching position that brought them there. How competitive could it be, how hard to come by? "We could have stayed," she says. "The kids were ready to come back." An expat adventure and the promise of home: the farm house, the cats, the chickens.

We steep in their life: vacation for us, but on either side the thrust of real life: responsibility, schedules, work. But in these spaces we dream of ways to blend the two, of what we'll take away and stow for the future.

They say the bits we write down are more likely to come true. I've seen it happen. Dreams into life.

((r)e)volution

2009-12-11T18:38:00.002-05:00

In the latest issue of Whole Terrain, Antioch's journal of reflective environmental practice, Janisse Ray completely stops my heart. A friend read Ray's poem aloud at this week's release party for the journal, and I felt myself fill with awe and hope for a future re-envisioned.

from Revolution: beauty and the coming-apart of beauty, becoming beauty again by Janisse Ray

i
I am filling my hope chest.
In it
I have
a rake, a hoe, an adze, a froe,
shovel, a hammer, a curved knife,
a machete, an axe, a hatchet,
handsaw, drawing knife, scraper,
a screwdriver, pair of pliers, chisels,
wrenches, shears, a set of needles,
scissors, an awl, an anvil, a sledge,
clippers, a knife sharpener, a file,
hole-diggers, a broom,
a pocketknife.
Can you think of anything
else I might need?

ii
At our house
we have a machine
for
keeping milk cool
hearing news of the world
writing letters
turning fruits to juice
answering our phone
toasting bread
mixing cakes
washing clothes
cutting firewood
splitting firewood
listening to music
recording ourselves
taking pictures
sewing
sawing
sealing
drilling holes
turning wood
sharpening pencils
tuning guitars
sweeping floors
sucking moisture from the air
warming the house
heating water
brushing teeth
drying hair
popping popcorn.
I have taken more
than my fair share.

Today

2009-12-09T11:25:00.004-05:00

I'm having a snow day. I am watching the flakes fly from the sky with enormous velocity. I am thinking about teaching velocity in my yurt science classroom last week. I am watching a flickering candle. I am eating the season's last local farm tomatoes. I am contemplating how far superior toaster ovens are over regular toasters. I am finally hanging things on the walls of my two-month old apartment. I am making it feel like home.

What are you doing?

First Snow

2009-12-06T08:12:00.001-05:00

Good morning, beautiful snowy world.

Marvelous

2009-12-05T16:07:00.005-05:00

Some days, things are marvelous. Today I feel like I've got a long and growing list of things to be thankful and happy for. Maybe it's the changing season or my renewed commitment to positive thinking, but today I think the world is divine and I've got so much to celebrate. I know we gave thanks last week, but I've never been much for good timing, and I'm on a quest to feel it every day anyway.

So:

the first snow!
the season's last farmer's market tomatoes
fresh cut bread from the baker
home made apple butter
green chili egg brunch
red wine pasta sauce bubbling on the stove
drinks and dinner with friends
art walk
live music in warm places
familiar faces in unfamiliar places
feeling connected to my community
smiling strangers on the street
having a job I love
signing a contract! with benefits!
Saturday errands with my lovelies
a great haircut from the best salon yet
my ever-patient and clever boyfriend
New England microbrews
peanut butter toast

A list of mostly people and food. That seems about right. Here's to celebrating what's good and cultivating wonder.

Things I've Lost

2009-11-01T21:10:00.003-05:00

innocence
time
love
skin cells
brain cells
hair

buttons
my keys
my mind

a whole year

opportunities
bets
old habits
connection
phone numbers
my way
myself

one sock

certainty
insecurity
a safety net
ignorance
weight
friends

memories
games
my patience
peace of mind
posessions
half a life

a credit card
my deoderant
trust

Up to This

2009-05-18T19:14:00.013-04:00

Here's a little rundown of what I've been up to on my mini retreat in the country, minus all the boring parts with me sitting at my computer working away and the dog looking very sad indeed.

Jack and I went for a hike around Goose Pond with Meg and her dog, Tobin. Jack bounded around the 2 mile loop and passed out dead on the way home.

I made some snappy thank you cards for graduation goodness. There's something about scissors and glue and blue-green schemes that make me very happy. Take a look. You just might find one of these in a mailbox near you very soon.

I took Jack to ultimate frisbee where he met Steve's dog, Jackson. Jackson was three times Jack's size but no match for Jack's relentless play-fighting spirit.

Made the best sandwich ever for lunch: browned tofu with red peppers, avocado, lettuce and Vermont cheddar on a toasted sesame bagel. Yum.

Brewed a steaming cup of chamomile and tucked the garden in for the night. Why, you ask? Oh because tonight the temp is dropping to 29 degrees. Oh New England. You kidder.

There's also been a three-mile hike/jog down dirt roads and unmarked trails, a forded stream and a forest exit exactly where I hoped it would be. There's been good, loud music and this song, whose lyrics break my messy, beating heart. There's a to-do list full of crossed-off items and a clean dog after an unwelcome bath after Jack rolled in something gross that I won't tell you about. There's been long sleep in a dark house in the quiet woods with a warm, curled up puppy snuggled into my belly. And there's been time and silence, and time, and silence, and time.

Country Time

2009-05-15T13:56:00.005-04:00

View from the hammock

In spite of all the work I have to do, this feels an awful lot like just the vacation I needed.

Now, nose :: grindstone. Just a little though, with well-timed sunshine hammock breaks.

Fluttering

2009-05-14T08:03:00.006-04:00

Yesterday I hiked up Drummer Hill in the morning light. Up to the power lines and out of town til the only sounds were birds and breeze. I saw scat, coyote, and I knew because it was in the middle of the trail and perched on top of things, as high as it could get. I like knowing the secrets of the forest.

I got almost lost, twisting down the hill around mountain bike trails and ended at the highway, turned back, took a cross trail and ended up the road from where I began. The compass in my head did alright til just before the very end. One moment of panic as I looked side to side and all around me, forest. But I followed the slope and the sounds and remembered that I wasn't lost in the wilderness but in a wooded reserve in the middle of town, a blessing in itself. I'd ridden my bike there from my house in 7 minutes.

I found a perfect house near the trail head, a perfect cottage house with bay windows full of plants and a vine wreath on the wooden door. I stole a picture to remind me of beautiful spaces, the kind of place I want to create and live in some day.

This week I'm dog sitting for nine month-old Jack and staying at his own bright, sunny house in the country. I'm treating it like a vacation, a retreat. I have writing and reading to do, sewing and crafting and sleeping, hiking, walking, breathing.

Last night we trolled the yard before bed and I saw a moth with bright pink legs and pink spotted wings clinging to the screen door. The wind was blowing and its wings were fluttering but its tiny feet held tight. The air was cold and out here, the night is dark.

The weather is changing and I'm rearranging, regaining strength or finding what I never had. New ways of thinking on things that have gone round and round and round. New ways of forgiving, myself and everyone else, for what we are and aren't. I'm worrying less and thinking longer, letting reality catch up with my head and getting my heart in sync. It feels good to be right where I am.

PacNW Adventure: The Evidence

2009-05-09T15:34:00.003-04:00

Me and Mike with Opie the dog

Mike and I finally, finally found time to sift through all the photos of our Spring Break trip and post the best ones online for you to see.

I don't know about you, but March feels like a million years ago now that the grass is green and the trees are blooming their fragrant flowers all over the place. God I love spring.

But I also love travel, and adventure, and exploring new places. I love airports and crossing state lines, new places, old friends. I love the PacNW and our collection of shared memories that mark our trip together. So before we hustle and bustle on with the springtime and the rest of our lives, take a second with us to remember an excellent trip.

Photos

Slideshow

Earth Day, SCA and the Obama Way

2009-04-22T10:00:00.010-04:00

Photo courtesy SCA

I am so proud to be a part of this, even if only peripherally. Barack and Michelle Obama joined Bill Clinton and the Bidens for an SCA service project in Washington, DC yesterday. They worked alongside my colleagues and friends digging holes, planting trees and learning about watershed restoration.

If I'm going to be honest, this all makes me a little teary. To see something that I believe in so fiercely being recognized and honored by the President's presence is phenomenal. To know that there is someone in the White House leading my country and believing in things that mean so much to me is more than I can say.

The best part is that it wasn't just a photo op or a press stunt. Before planting trees with SCA, Obama got to work signing the Serve America Act into law. The Act allocates $5.7 million over eight years to make public service a more accessible option for people of all ages.

In his address, the President said:

We need your service, right now, at this moment in history. I’m not going to tell you what your role should be; that’s for you to discover. But I’m asking you to stand up and play your part. I’m asking you to help change history’s course. Put your shoulder up against the wheel. And if you do, I promise you – your life will be richer, our country will be stronger, and someday, years from now, you may remember it as the moment when your own story and the American story converged, when they came together, and we met the challenges of our new century.

This is a draft I can get behind. Happy Earth Day, everyone.

On Turning Ten

2009-04-03T21:28:00.001-04:00

Someone read this poem aloud at a talk I attended earlier today. I love Billy Collins, and I loved hearing something from him read aloud. The last stanza stops me dead in my tracks. I love it, love it, love it.

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

-Billy Collins

Picture Time

2009-03-22T09:57:00.002-04:00

This is fun. In case regular old boring clocks aren't doing it for you, or if you want to feel connected to everyone everywhere when you check the time, go see. People across the universe took pictures of themselves or their places that include a specific minute of the day. This website magically arranges them to appear in sequence with the passing of time. Neat-o.

And in case you'd rather slow it down and really get to know these folks, check out the Human Calendar for a monthly pace.

-via S. Wiley

On Love and Foolishness

2009-03-14T14:29:00.000-04:00

“I must learn to love the fool in me–the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool.” — Theodore I. Rubin, MD

Quote via Mighty Girl

Vancouver

2009-03-13T22:07:00.003-04:00

We arrived today in Vancouver to stay at this little downtown boutique hotel just a minute's walk from Stanley Park. We walked by the waterfront earlier, took pictures of giant trees, then drank red wine and took a nap. I think I like it here.

Our trip has been great. Wonderful, really. Seattle and old friends, Portland and new places, a few stops along the Olympic peninsula and coastal Washington and now here, Canada. We're having fun and exploring and getting to know each other, celebrating new records for waking up together and finding a lot to smile about.

I feel a million miles from home, from school and work and real life worries. Well, some of them follow us everywhere--the future looms large now that we have a second to notice it, but I'm getting along anyway. I'm so glad we came, so happy to be here together.

We have til Monday in Vancouver, then we're headed back south to catch our flight home from Seattle. More to come--photos and stories from the rest of our trip soon.

Josh Ritter

2009-02-09T23:46:00.006-05:00

I am completely over the moon for Josh Ritter. Am I the absolute last person to get on this crazy train? No? You're late to this party too? Friends. You can listen to almost all his albums on his website. Let's go!

(Oh, also? He's adorable. You're welcome.)

Dear Universe,

2009-01-28T08:57:00.003-05:00

Love,
Elli

Say It Plain

2009-01-20T15:04:00.002-05:00

Today, we made history. Today I sat on the floor, surrounded by my community, hugging my friends, and was moved to tears by the story we have created. Today I am proud, and hopeful, and brimming over with love for all that we are, have been, and will be.

Here, the words of poet Elizabeth Alexander as we welcomed our 44th president, Mr. Barack Obama:

"Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light."

Prettiest Tree

2009-01-15T08:43:00.003-05:00

I know it's been nothing but videos around here lately, but I promise you're gonna like this one. Here is my old high school friend John and his lovely lady, Leila, performing a little Ben Sollee song called "Prettiest Tree on the Mountain."

I had the luck to watch these two sing and play last April at an open mic at the Skunk in Vermont. Since then they've moved to Portland on the left coast and left New England bereft in their absence, both in music and charm. Watch this video, and wait til their smiles at the end, and I swear you'll miss them too.

Grey Goodness

2009-01-13T09:17:00.005-05:00

When I was in college, DJ Dangermouse released an unauthorized mashup called The Grey Album combining the Beatles' White Album and Jay-Z's Black Album. I remember hearing about it from a friend who was inexplicably tied in to the hip hop music scene from within the iron gates of our culturally-insulated campus. Something made me think of it again recently, and I checked it out today and found that it is totally badass. Dangermouse drops some serioues beats, but since EMI dropped some serious cease-and-desist battle cries you can't access anything but bootlegged home vids on YouTube. No matter. The following is particularly radical, especially after about 3:45. Check it ouuut.

Ringing It In

2009-01-01T09:49:00.003-05:00

Last night's house party was full of great people, good drinks, fun costumes, much shouting and joy, a bit of dancing and best of all, a little live bluegrass from the fellas in the back bedroom. Check it out.

Here's Andrew on cello, John and Alan on banjo, Kevin on guitar, Brian on washboard percussion, and Bill on upright bass. These boys are magic.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Onward

2008-12-31T00:28:00.000-05:00

This was a year, to be sure. Impossible to summarize, like trying to stop a watercolor from bleeding off the edge of the page. It was a year in technicolor, intense and terrifying and new in a million different ways. I am changed, changing, working on becoming something better than I was, than I am. It hasn't been neat or nice or even very fun, but I feel lucky and honest and in progress, always moving along.

It was a year of doing what I love, learning and growing into a vision that will eventually become my career. I field tested and tried my hand as an educator, found some things that worked and that didn't, and some others that still need time to brew.

This year I traveled. To Seattle twice, and I would be lying if I said that I didn't leave a part of my heart there when I left. I'm glad I went, and went back, and found space in the bustling city to imagine where my place might be. It may be just empty musing, at least for now, but it's still fun to dream.

This year, my friends and family cheered my heart, challenged me, and gave me a place to hope. In their passion for what they do, in their easy laughter and brilliant complexity, they are a gift and a lesson in love that I am learning, one foolish blunder at a time.

This year I felt, for the first time, true pride in my country and a real place among a people that is ready for hope. I felt change begin to whisper around corners, under doors and between railway tracks and I found a belief that we can, and yes, we will.

This year I became a runner, pushing myself out the door in late summer afternoons, falling for Burlington as I squinted into the setting sun, around hills and back up with the lake glittering down below. I went farther and faster, finding that the barrier was only ever my own stubbornness. As with most things, I could do it if I only decided.

And this year, a decision found me. To go my separate way was less a choice than a thing that happened because it was time and had to be. Weeks of crippling fear grew seasoned with distance, as May turned to June and life, in its way, carried on. The choice was only ever to listen to my heart, and try to love what I heard. And when things grew clear I felt relief, not because it was easy but because finally, my mind had been made. So I went, without knowing how or which way was up; knowing only that it was the right thing to do. It is only now, months later, that bits of the aftershock are making their ways back to me, in photographs and memories and well-worn, traveled tales.

I am looking ahead to a new year and hoping for slowness, for patience, for time. I want to sink in, to live in the heart of it, to keep feeling the tightness at the back of my throat that lets me know I'm moving, I'm growing, I'm here. I wish for more bravery and kindness, for honesty that heals, and for true connection that binds me to the people, the places and the ideas I love. I wish for you and yours a very happy 2009.

beauty

2008-12-17T16:21:00.003-05:00

I joined the gym this week since it's finally too wintery outside to go running. There's a huge television that hangs over the row of treadmills, and while I am not overjoyed that it's always on ESPN, I was thrilled to catch this clip today of Jason Blake juking the hell out of Devil's goalie Scott Clemenson.

I wish he had pulled it off during regulation play instead of a shoot out, but still! Sweet fluid beauty. Whoa dudes. It's hockey time.

skinny love

2008-12-16T10:08:00.002-05:00

This song, oh friends. I can't stop listening. I can't stop hitting "Replay." I can't stop feeling it sink into my bones and pour through my veins. It's rainy days, it's gloomy skies, it's long trips down flat highways, it's sunrise along the coast. It's everything life and love was ever meant to be. I just love it when a song does this to me.

"Skinny Love" by Bon Iver

l'hippopotame and other cuteness

2008-12-15T08:44:00.005-05:00

Is there anything cuter than a toddler speaking French? No, no there is not.

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

-via Lauren

Thievery

2008-12-14T09:33:00.006-05:00

Hey internet, stealing is wack.

I clicked through my referrals today and ended up on a Google results page that led me to this and thought, wow, that sounds somewhat familiar.

Dear "chew" from North Carolina,
Those were MY words. I wrote them. You took them and claimed them as yours without my permission or even a reference. That's called stealing, and it's not cool. In fact, it's sort of sad. Please don't do it again.
Sincerely,
Elli

Fourteen Weeks

2008-12-11T15:55:00.001-05:00

Autumn, flying by in kodachrome.

All photos taken by me at Robinhood Park in good ol' Keene, NH.

Emerging Zeitgeist

2008-12-10T18:36:00.013-05:00

This fall I went to an environmental education conference and listened to a keynote address that changed my life. The speaker, Gibran Rivera, is a consultant for the Interaction Institute for Social Change, an organization in Cambridge MA that is dedicated to bringing to light a more just and sustainable world. He spoke about the state of the things...the environmental crisis, wars, social divides, inequality and many other very real problems that are staring us square in the eye today. But he also spoke of change, of the transformation that is needed, and that we are capable of, to envision and create a better reality.

Over the last few months I have come back to his speech again and again, unable to shake the impact that it had on me. Just weeks after the conference we elected Barack Obama as our president, and the spark of hope in my heart that Rivera's speech had kindled burst into a roaring fire. Since then I have felt bolder and braver. Since then I have felt what before seemed like insurmountable challenges become manageable, tangible and human.

This week my friend lent me a book by Margaret Wheatley called Turning To One Another: Simple Conversations to Restore Hope to the Future. It's a book that asks us to reconsider how we interact with one another and to actively reengage our hearts. It asks for authenticity, patience, and honesty. Only later, after finishing the book and letting it stew in my head for a day, did I realize that Rivera had been talking about these very same things (had, in fact, referenced Wheatley and her work directly). Only later did I recognize that this is the same spirit with which Barack Obama ignited a whole movement behind hope and courage, and won our hearts and our votes.

There is a part of me that gets covered over some days in the detritus and dust of the mundane. It is the part of me that hungers for beauty and inspiration, that digs into the depth of things and comes out the other side breathless and starry-eyed and changed. And lately that part of me is ringing in my ears and stirring in my soul. It is sending jolts of life through every last cell and causing my heart to ache with imagination and the limitlessness of overwhelming possibility.

The synapses of the universe are firing at rapid speed, and the beginnings of change are palpable.Things are moving here. We are on our way.

Here are just a few excerpts from Rivera's speech, "Collaboration Across Boundaries." If you do nothing else, read the final quote I have included below and just consider the immensity of that image: we are the midwives to the new world that is trying to emerge.

To read Rivera's entire speech, which I highly recommend, click here to download the PDF.

“Our institutional arrangements, the core ways in which we have chosen to organize ourselves – as nation states, as economic systems, as spiritual communities and yes, even as agents of social intervention – are all solidly rooted in the very models that have brought our humanity this far while also falling dangerously short. What I’m saying – and this is central to my proposal for collaboration – is that our habitual way of doing business, our most established systems, the dominant paradigms are no longer fit for the job of helping us reinvent ourselves. I paraphrase Albert Einstein in saying that a problem cannot be solved at the same level of consciousness at which it was created.”

“It becomes useful to consider a sort of pulsation or evolutionary heartbeat that breathes outward towards diversity and breathes inwards towards integration.”

“The type of authenticity that is demanded for cross-boundary collaboration to be possible is defined by the practice of true inquiry…an inquiry that does not in any way pretend to know the answer.”

“It is an incredible privilege to be connected to a network of people who are passionately committed to figuring out what it takes to be a midwife to the new world that is trying to emerge.”

Clarity, Elegance & Irrelevance

2008-12-09T09:56:00.005-05:00

Writer Malcolm Gladwell was interviewed by GoodReads recently, and I love what he had to say about what it means to succeed as a writer. Check that part out below, or read the whole interview here.

GR: Many people read your books who may not normally pick up a nonfiction book, and especially not one with so many references to scientific research. What is the secret to writing accessible nonfiction?

MG: My writing model is my mother, who is a writer as well. She always valued clarity and simplicity above all else. If someone doesn't understand what you're writing, then everything else you do is superfluous. Irrelevant. If any thoughtful, curious reader finds what I do impenetrable, I've failed. My highest compliment is when someone comes up to me to say, "My 14-year-old daughter, or my 12-year-old son read your book and loved it." I cannot conceive of a greater compliment than that — to write something that as an adult I find satisfying, but also that manages to reach a curious 13- or 14-year-old. That's my model, and if that's your model, then you have to write in a way that's accessible. Clear writing is universal. People talk about writing down to an audience or writing up to an audience; I think that's nonsense. If you write in a way that is clear, transparent, and elegant, it will reach everyone. There's no idea that can't be explained to a thoughtful 14-year-old. If the thoughtful 14-year-old doesn't get it, it is your fault, not the 14-year-old's. I think that's a very important fact.

Shutters

2008-12-04T22:26:00.003-05:00

Oh hello,
Here's me looking somewhat miserable, but I swear I'm not. Actually, I am pretty excited about things. I know you can't tell it from the look of sheer exhaustion on my face, but honestly. It's just the end of the semester. It's just past my witching hour. It's just that there's so much to think about and see about and be about in the day that by this time in the night, I can't also manage to look utterly pleased to see you. But I am. I really am.

In two weeks I'll be done with another semester of glorious graduate school and I am both terrified and terribly pleased by this fact. In two weeks I'll be about baking cookies and going ice skating and finding a hill in this dang town to hurl myself down on a rickety sled. I can't wait.

In the meantime, I'm all business over here with designing curricula and hunting for springtime jobs. It's all triple-bottom-lines mixed with a little content and process for the ride home. Yup, all business, except for impromptu jaunts up a freezing Monadnock and near-nightly collapses on the couch to unpack my brain with a new-to-me episode of Heroes. It's a thrilling life, I know.

There's so much more to say, always, and not enough time or even proper words to say it. Everything's stirring in my head and heart and I'm finding myself exactly where I'm meant to be. Here and there and everywhere, and really, truly enjoying the journey.

I hope that you are too.
xo

Texty

2008-11-17T18:32:00.007-05:00

Here's an odd and lovely project that the internet showed me today: a series of romantic text messages, embroidered.

As Andrew Sullivan so wisely put it, "Running through the photographs gives one a sense of the relationship's rise and fall in an abstract but deeply intimate way...the mixing of contemporary technology with an age-old craft is oddly gratifying."

I love it. It breaks my stupid heart.

Before I Go

2008-11-12T09:10:00.001-05:00

Inspired by Maggie's Mighty Life list, here are one through 25 on my list of things to do before I go:

1. Ride in a hot air balloon
2. Visit British Columbia
3. Spend time in Montana
4. Take a multi-night backpacking trip
5. Go white water rafting again
6. Buy a standard transmission car
7. Ride the train across Canada
8. Live in Maine
9. Date a musician
10. Grow a big vegetable garden
11. Marry someone I love
12. Go to Italy
13. Learn to sail
14. Have a baby
15. Learn to tie five knots well
16. Be an inspiring naturalist
17. Be in charge of an educational organization
18. Be an excellent manager
19. Take a photography class
20. Own a nice camera
21. Learn to use a sewing machine
22. Learn how to knit a hat
23. Make pottery again
24. Take kids camping
25. Have a job I love

A New Day

2008-11-11T08:22:00.005-05:00

There are no words necessary or to do this moment justice. Watch this and just go ahead and try not to smile and bop yer head.

Update: Ooh! They disabled embedding on this video, probably because so many idealistic, hopeful, happy people are watching it all over the dang place. So, just go here and watch it. You will be glad you did. It still makes me smile and squeal, even the fourth and fifth time watching/listening to it. eeeee!!! We elected Barack Obama!!!!

Reverse Stalker

2008-11-10T22:28:00.002-05:00

There's something sort of creepy about being able to see where my website visitors come from. I can, in case you didn't know, by tracking my site statistics. They tell me where visotors' IP addresses are registered and the websites that referred visitors to my page, along with a host of other mostly impersonal information.

Which is why, when clicking through my referrals today I was able to see that someone visited my site after Googling the phrase, "crush on elli." My heart sort of leaped to my throat when I read that, sucker that I am for all things crush-related and romantically juvenile in nature.

I considered for a second that it might be someone I know. How many girls are there named Elli, anyway, and how many people would Google that? Maybe it was someone I'd met only once, but he remembered my name and didn't know how else to find me. It's possible!

But I clicked through some more and found that my smitten Googler is doing his/her Googling from Finland. Much to my dismay, I have never met anyone from Finland and, upon closer consideration, this person could have meant anything at all by the phrase "crush on elli." Maybe elli is a Finnish slang term for driveway and my Googler was looking for crushed stone. Maybe elli is a fancy type of drink involving crushed ice. Or maybe some sweet Finnish boy has fallen hard for a lucky Finnish girl named Elli, but when he went searching for her he found me instead.

Well, my Finnish friend, whatever it was I think it's awfully cute. You can have a crush on me if you want, as long as I can make up stories and have an imaginary crush on you.

The internet is so accomodating that way.

Jono and the World

2008-11-09T08:23:00.005-05:00

Look! My dear friend Jono and his lovely lady Ayesha are traveling the world, beginning with India, and telling us all about it. I am following along at home and breaking into laughter, tears and curses intermittently as the content insists. They are both fabulous writers and inspired souls, so check them out and say a little travel prayer that their trip continues down this wonderful path.

History: Made

2008-11-06T08:28:00.002-05:00

I am in love with America.

No Excuses

2008-11-04T08:08:00.003-05:00

VOTE!

And if you really want to make me happy, vote for Barack Obama. Now is the time. We are the ones we've been waiting for.