Party!

We are having our famous New Year's Eve party again. We would like you to be there.

Here's the story:
Starting at 7 in the morning we celebrate as each time zone enters the New Year. We drink Vodka for Russia, Singha for Thailand, moonshine from Cape Breton Island for the Maritime Provences.

Food will be served. There will be homemade candy. Homemade sushi. Homemade eggnog. There will be much, much more.

Come for one time zone or stay all day. Kids are welcome, especially before we cross the Atlantic. Come for Greenland, the Akavit will be cold. We will have nonalcoholic beverages as well, for those of us who need them. But not thematic by time zone.

Email orangeamanda@yahoo.com if you would like to come. We would love to have you.

Last night in my dream there was a new kind of Moxie, Alpine White. Black Arthur was selling it in a little stand maybe 100 yards past the last entrance to the Seaside Cemetery. The Gibsons were sitting on the old rock. I was bleeding.

Earlier this week I dreamed we were fishing. Not really. We were standing on the beach, but one or two people were in the water. Some large fish were swimming in toward shore, chasing smaller fish in toward the shore. I'm not sure what the smallest kind was, then pogies, then blue fish. I am deathly afraid of bluefish and was very nervous for whomever was treading water, mostly for the safety of their toes. The fish were jumping onto the beach and because it seemed like there was no other appropriate thing to do we were gathering them.

My sister gave birth on Thursday to her fifth boy. I had the other four, from 18 months to 7 years of age. Early in the morning on Thursday until a little past noon on Friday. They wore me out and I am coming down with a cold. Elijah (the youngest) moves things- bath salts are now in the bedroom. A bowl of fruit loops in the hall. Playmobile everywhere. I found a pair of socks stuffed under the heater in the bedroom this morning. I will be finding things for some time to come.

I have been so tired lately, too tired even to knit. This is no good what with Christmas coming and so many things left to make. I am thinking that Christmas presents will turn into Groundhog Day presents or Valentine's Day presents. Maybe I'll just wait for the Epiphany. My intentions are good but really I am worn out.

I'm cold and I can't seem to get anything done. Slow slow slow, I am so slow today.

No crush list this week, I have other things on my mind... of course there are the eternal crushes, you know who you are...

Jim's Eagles were on last night, more fun to watch football with the boys than without them. Seamus says the snow is crispy like a cracker. Today it is all ice. Houses built in the past couple of years have changed the drainage up on Squam Hill. The roads below it are all crusted over with layers of ice. Bridge Street is a sheet of smooth ice, absent of ruts other ice in Annisquam has. The driveway here at work is super slippery. The storm door blew off of the store. The office is just starting to warm up.

I'm off to work now. I'll be back if I get a lot of books cataloged.

Trying to make room for the holidays in an apartment with way too much stuff. We found the perfect angel for on top of the tree today, something to replace the white dove who has lost his eyes over the years. A skeleton fiddler with wings.

Looked for a meat-of-the-month club for my brother. I know meat is bad but he sure likes it. Turns out meat is more of a corporate gift- I found "corporate gift plans" that would deliver a different meat each month for only $399-$600.

Gata just bit the soft part of my arm.

What a funny season this is. In one store in Portsmouth we heard Disintegration, but it was drowned out by bad carols every time the door opened. Rampant holiday shopping and anti-war rally collide. The middle-class in Starbucks, the rich shopping in quieter side streets. Fancy underwear and "art" stores.

I recommend buying used for the holiday. So much depends on us spending every red cent over these few months. Why not support the people on the fringes of society who make their living selling things they've picked up at yard sales? It's all about redemption.

At work, taking orders and mailing books from Maritime List 148. I wonder if all of you who work at universities know the people I have been talking at the libraries.

I can't seem to get warm today. Left the car for James downtown and toof a bus to work. Of course, with all the snow around th ebus got stuck on Main St. and was about 15 minutes late. By the time I got to work my feet were wet from the snow and puddles and so so cold. Nearly 4 hours later they are finally not wet or frozen.

I've got to wrap books before the UPS man comes.

Didn't get to write after dinner, didn't get wooed half enough. Here is this week's poetic crush list.

10.Dan Bouchard
9. Nick Piombino
8. Shin Yu Pai
7. Jim Behrle
6. Joel Sloman
5. Mike County
4. Jim Dunn
3. Gerrit Lansing
2. Xtina Strong
1. Ed Barrett

I am leaving work soon, off to have dinner at my da's. Been thinking about my crush list for this week. Woo soon, there isn't much time...

It's hard to be this vulnerable. I spend my time pretending poemd are written for me even when I know they aren't. So what if my name isn't Maria? My name could always be Maria.

I volunteer to teach Xtina about sports for when she marries that Harvard meathead. As with most things it is a matter of language and logic. Learn the language first. "Pooch kick" the ball, down it at the one-yard line. Run the clock down. It's as easy as pie.*

It is important to note here that Xtina is not marryinga Harvard meathead anymore than the poems I have been reading are about me. If she were to do so, however, her being a master of language and logic would certainly help her understand sports.

James says this sounds mean. I certainly don't mean it to be. If anything I am looking to convert another girl to the world of football. And baseball. And real football. Or just to hang out with Xtina more.


*I also volunteer to teach Xtina how to bake pie.

Watching the snow fall and the tide surge- water halfway to the cherry tree, surely salting my squash garden. Last night in my dream I drove my car into the water somewhere near the State Fish Pier. My brother’s house was on the water near Rocky Neck. He had his own ramp and I was trying to push the car out of the water and up the ramp but they were having a barbecue and didn’t want me to push my car into their yard, never mind help me. I was sure if I could just get my car out of the water it would be fine—I would then submerge it in rubbing alcohol, which would displace the water and then evaporate.

I also saw a friend in the dream, a friend who is due to have a baby any day now. I have only seen her once in the past year or two. In the dream she was in overall, denim overalls, as she often is.

More overalls in my dream. Racks of corduroy and moleskin overalls that would make good gifts for Amanda Babson. Last night I walked in the snow down to her parents’ house to help her mother put the three layers of a quilt together. Lights flickering on and off and us on the floor of the living room, having moved all of Aunt Jill’s furniture to the side, smoothing the wrinkles out of the cotton batting. It is a beautiful quilt- square of bright batiks for Dave and Annalei’s wooden house.

When the electricity went out for a few hours last night I tried to make cookies and coffee over candle flames. Mostly for fun. The coffee never was finished, but it could have been if I were willing to wait another hour or two. Cookies bake unevenly over an open flame.

It’s hard not to fall for Mike County when he writes like this.

James is concerned with the amount of football I have been watching. Today I hope to finish a sock for my brother before the first game is over so I can knit something fun during the Pats game. I even watched college football yesterday. Of course, I was making pot holders at the time.

The snow is piling up out there. After nearly denouncing Christmas my grandfather got a tree and began to decorate. While I was at the hardware store getting new fuses for his light the electricity went out. Armed with a flashlight from their emergency kit I found them anyway. Got out by pulling the usually-automatic doors apart.

Can't find some books at work that are in the next catalog. Don't know who is supposed to plow there but I had to leave before I was snowed in. Received an order from a man named Snow.

James says we should cut the tree across the way down for Christmas. I assure him it would be noticed. Last spring the neighbor asked my grandfather if he could cut it down to improve their view. He said no and in that instant, thinking that maybe he wasn't being such a nice neighbor, told him that i was my grandmother's favorite tree. I assure you it wasn't.

I wish the leftovers in my fridge were gone. I would like to cook some nice new food but don't think I can because to waste food is bad. They aren't even my leftovers, most of them. I want to make a big pot of spinach oatmeal soup.

I have a hard time saying I am fine lately, even if it is true. Such a delicate balance. So many things could go wrong I feel like I should at least be prepared. That seems better than being very very happy and being blindsided.

Lovely dinner with J and M and Z and two of the boys are still talking but I am sleepy and will be going to bed...

Bibliogal was talking about dangling words... I want to say here that I love the lettering of signatures in uppercase then lowercase then AA and aa and mmmix(meaning the ninth page of signature mmm). I sold a book at the Garage fair (now held at the Hyatt)from Bartleby's booth (we share a booth, the he and G do the big fair at the Hynes). I forget the title or the author, something scientific with a small hole in one of the pages. The man who bought the book was impressed when I was able to find the page. He didn't realize the signatures were lettered.

I think Bibliogal would like Kenneth Karmoile's books. His books are pretty. White books, they call them, bound in vellum instead of leather. White books travel better than brown books. Brown books make red dust. But modern firsts pack easily.

My mom followed me to work today. She came in through the house not the office and talked to me there in the kitchen. I couldn't keep myself from looking at the triptych of G mowing around Galen's grave. Galen's grave. I don't go there as much as I should or as much as I want to, just down the street but I haven't felt safe there for years. Always looking over my shoulder. We used to ride bikes there, the lot of us, but it is filling in now with graves. Galen then Will then Norma and who else? I haven't been, I don't know. And it is December now. I would leave the country if I could.

I've done some turkey manipulation this evening that has me questioning why...

I am a firm advocate of trading leftovers but I may have gone too far today. When I offered to take some from my sister so they wouldn't go to waste I got more than I bargained for.

2 gallon bags of turkey
a bowl of Greek stuffing (rice, tomato, meat, raisons, etc.)
a bag of more traditional stuffing
squash and sweet potato soup with pancetta

Some turkey cut for a pot pie, wings and drumstcks in a pot to make a broth. Boil and bubble, toil and trouble. Joy of Cooking barbecue sauce (a little pungent, methinks).
Have you ever had pulled turkey in barbecue sauce? Me neither, but it is on the stove now. Pot pie with a gravy made with minced onions and mushrooms and the broth from the bones.

I have seen so much turkey tonight I don't think I can eat any of it.

On another note, someone got here searching for American politicians with fish names.

At work and I have hit a wall. Not enough time to start something new but too early to pick up James so I am counting myself out and spending a little time here. Car inspection gods looked kindly on me this morning and I got an extra month again this year. Went to my sister's for an Elijah fix. Drank tea as the kids played in the snow. How nice for them to be able to just go out in the snow! All over town kids look longingly out elementary school windows at the falling snow while my sister's boys are gathering enough snow for a foot-tall snowman.

Been a while, holidays and all. I've been taking a little break from the computer but I thought I should post this week's crush list at least. Just in case you checked.

10. John Mulroney
9. Mark Lamoureux
8. Mick Carr
7. Yuri Hospodar
6. Joel Sloman
5. Xtina Strong
4. Jim Behrle
3. Nick Piombino
2. Mike County
1. Gerrit Lansing

I've had some very long posts but they have been written in my head and we haven't got the interface yet for that sort of thing. Really I need a keyboard at the sink so I can write while doing the dishes.

Getting ready for the next holiday is a little scary. What to make? What to buy? Didn't buy a thing on Friday, not even a soda.

Had a lovely time on Saturday night. I might have more to say, I might not, but I want to say at least how happy I was to meet and see everyone.

I've got to update my Shameful List. Tonight alone I started two more things.

Julia, if you read this, I finished the collar of the purple sweater. Thanks for asking.

Woke up this morning wanting to go to a bar. Not to drink, but to be around people who are quiet and vulnerable. Instead I gathered Gerrit and we went to the Dorry then for a walk about town. Better beginnings.

Couldn't post my crush list yesterday but I certainly have one this week.

5. Malcolm Davidson
4. Joe Torra
3. Mick Carr
2. "Jaunty" Joel Sloman
1. Mike County

To the Kinvara today then my da's for dinner. Always waiting for the other shoe to fall.

(I didn't like the big picture so I took it out.)

In the Pooh Quiz I am Rabbit:

"Sometimes your creative solutions land you in sticky situations but you remain adventurous and undaunted by failure. You posess an infectious confidence and deep thinking comes naturally to you. Always on the go with many paws in many pies, Rabbits can appear slightly manic to others. But not to worry, you have everything under control... most of the time."

Successfully changed a halogen lightbulb. Got a big bottle of wine to have with dinner...

Gata has become a fan of eeksy peeksy. And of clawing the back of my neck as I sleep.

Some lovely goals this morning from Celtic, 3 for Sutton. Douglas didn't look so good. The usual suspects at the KV. Wanted to tell Stephen about the mouse at the harp but thought he might take it the wrong way.

Beef stew is better on the third day, once the bottle of burgundy has settled in. My head's in a bit of a fog and my throat is a little scratchy. I'm just having a cup of tea now before dragging myself to work.

I have been thinking a lot about new furniture. It isn't that I really want to buy new furniture, I just want some control over my surroundings. Right now my place is full of furniture that was here when we moved in that I can't get rid of, things we found on the side of the road that seemed to fill some need, and furniture family was discarding. Several bookcases purchased at yard sales, one from an office supply store. Couch from Leanord Street, white shelves from River Road. New cubbies from the long driveway near Coggeshell and Langsford. Just peel the contact paper off. I'll refinish them in the spring.

Some things fit perfectly, though. I don't mind how I get soemthing if it works. Metal shelves from Gerrit now on the computer desk, holding reference books and clementine boxes. One end supported by stacks of books piled on a board on the radiator. His white shelf that was in the kitchen bt was replaced by my sister's old baker's rack now lives on the other side of James's desk. His desk is an old sewing desk my mother found on the side of the road when he first moved to Gloucester.

When I got on the bus this evening Sewell's brother and Astrid's father immediately recognized me as the pediatrician's granddaughter.

It’s sort of a lonely morning, dreary and rainy. A horrible day for a funeral. After dropping James off and driving Alex to school I wanted to be around people. Bar people. I wish I knew where the Crow’s Nest people are at 8 in the morning. I probably should have checked the Crow’s Nest.

Drove through Manchester hoping to stop for coffee. Everything looked too just-so for me. Continued on to Café Sicilia. An hour later than usual, all the spots at the tables near the front were taken. I ended up at the table near the door and with no knitting and nothing to read I sat there, alone. Left lonely still. Considered going to Trupiano’s for meat for stew. Changed my mind and headed home in a round-about way through Rockport.

Went to the hardware store to wait for the yarn store to open. Considered light bulbs, paint, hardware for shelving. I should have measured something before I went. I could have measured anything. I ended up buying a little chopper that was on sale to replace my mini Cuisinart that died during Christmas candy making last year.

With my new chopper’s help I talked myself out of yarn. Went to IGA instead. Lots of root vegetables for stew. Home through Lanesville, one last chance to end the loneliness of the day. Postcard stamps from Lenny at the post office. Into the café where a new girl was working and the old postman who was arrested a couple years back was there talking to her. He makes me uncomfortable. No comfy coffee time for me, I left soon after I got there. To the package store, a bottle of burgundy for the stew and cabernet for drinking.

Browned the meat, turning first with chopsticks then a metal spatula. I hate using metal utensils, prefer wood, but with flour sticking to the pan and meat sticking with it I gave in. Onions and celery and carrots chopped super–fine with my new chopper into the pot, just a couple minutes ‘til the onions are soft. Meat back in, bay leaves, salt and pepper, cover it over with wine and a little broth. Amused by the new appliance. Chop mushrooms until they are barely mushrooms at all, sauté them, toss them into the pot. Using finely chopped vegetables for thickening.

Waiting now for the meat to turn fork-tender. Bowls of hand-cut root vegetables are on the table, waiting to go in. Turnips, potatoes, carrots and parsnips. Those little boiling onions, which I have never used before. Maybe more mushrooms, halved or quartered. Cutting by hand is ultimately more satisfying. Toss some rosemary in on a whim.

Don’t know what to wear to the service. Should I walk to the church? If I can find my umbrella. Not lonely anymore, it doesn’t take much for me. Just a comfortable feeling.

Home to a dark house smelling of smoke and the house matching my smell but its smoke of wood, mine of stale bar. Songs on the radio on the way home. You and me babe, how about it.

My mind spins when it is windy and warm. Along the causeway they are building a walkway named after a friend of mine killed there. It will interfere with one of my favorite morning views, sort of like to suicide fence on the A. Pyatt Andrews. I hope this is more successful.

Met a man in the bar tonight who remembered my aunt Judy. Him deaf across the bar, raising his glass and I raising mine, to Judy. When I was 16 and ready to escape Gloucester and the way it had trapped me Judy was sailing in the Pilot from Gloucester to California, through the Pananma Canal. Her husband Ross was not popular with my family. I spent some time with them and the rest of the crew on the boat as it was docked near the state fish pier. A boy on board not too much older than me at the time gave me a sprig of sea lavender he had gathered somewhere on a previous sail. I still have it in one of my many little woodern boxes. Long after Judy died, long after my first sailing adventure. Long after her brother and I cried, drunk, in the cabin of his Mug Up in Belfast Harbor, singing songs to Judy.

It being just past 8 in the morning I have already torn the study apart and moved a little furniture. Closed my desk in a little more, made the other desk easier to use. I am still trying to figure out where to put the filing cabinet and the dictionairy stand I made for James's OED. The chest in front of the guest bed is a bit of a problem now as well. That may move to the foot of my bed. That room will be cramped then but there will always be at least one cramped room here. The bedroom is so much more light than this room; it may be able to handle extra furniture.

Thank you, Nick for the advice on my finger. I held it in a shot glass of warm water last night and slept with it wrapped in one of the glittery bandages I got the night I stayed at Xtina's. It seems a lot better now. But I think I should still do as Dr. Nick says.

I am currently accepting folk medicine and wives' tales on how to get a bit of a thorn out of mu finger. I think it is still in there a little. Or it is just infected. Oh how it hurts!

I find myself wishing sometimes that Vincent Ferrini had a blog. That would give Karl a run for his money. Saw V.'s nephew Henry when I went to work today, he was going off on a walk in Dogtown with my boss. Saw the new office set up (about) as my sister arrived for reflexology. In a different room.

I'm looking forward to meeting Nick Piombino next week when he comes here to read. Maybe he'll even come out to Gloucester. If so, I'll cook.

The splinter I took out of my finger yesterday left a big hole. A big hole that hurts. It interferes with my bowhold and my knitting. It hurts when I do dishes. It hurts me so.

Friday my grandmother from Hawaii flies in. I am picking her up at the airport and will miss Mark's reading. Her coming makes me nervous about my father-- she is feeble herself and it makes me wonder just how bad he is if she is coming out on such short notice. But I miss her and love her and look forward to sharing a bottle of wine with her. I wonder how long she is staying.

A friend's grandfather died last week. He was a great man and will be missed. Friend says he just got weaker and weaker then died. Bodies do that, I guess, just give up.

Weather is getting cooler and I feel it in my fingers. Typing, knitting, playing violin, all a little stiff. Driving too much today and the dashboard like a light show. Helped my sister clean this morning. She's due in a few weeks, her fifth baby boy. All seven and under. Taking care of older boys now. I have to go get one at school. Later.

After a mostly useless day I got the house clean, took a bath and got dressed up for dinner. Set the cofffee maker up for morning. Tomorrow will be early. There are messages I mean to write but I just can't get my mind around everything- AB, AD, KR- I am thinking them! Pay close attention and they may arrive on the wind.

My crush list today is a non-rated list of poets I miss... Joel Sloman, Mike County, Jim Behrle, Sean Cole, Ed Barrett.

I would like to go to Ireland in the next week. It's too bad that I won't.

Pulled dead sunflowers out of the garden this morning. Picked an onion. Splinter in my finger, removed but with a slight wound in its place. Trying to put order into the week, the week into order, a weak order, really. Time is filling up. How can I let YOU down?

There are hurts that don’t go away. They follow us like the dead or the lost, and we mourn them as such.

Why is an elaborate bird song comsidered a trade off? Sex breast boat engine.

Tried getting up on both sides of the bed today, hoping one would be right. No luck. Morning phone call from my ma. Tried to reassure her but I really have no idea. The wind is whistling outside, Gata meowing in, and me grumping about all of it.

What is fair and what isn't? If it weren't so cold and windy I would throw all the windows open and clear this house out. The air needs some clearing. I could drink a lot of water. Cancel credit cards. Wash clothes. Nothing will be fixed by it, trust me. An article I saw yesterday had firemen and businessmen and little girls meditating.

To keep the cat from attacking the printer I have closed her out of this room. The fish tank needs filling, its gurgle is distracting. Wind on the left, water on the right...

Return to the List Method- get things done! Trying to remember how to make the most of a day. Work some, clean some, work some more. Some more, s'more. Off for more!

Home from being out and home the same tone as before. Gata's going crazy with my arm. Read moomin comics until my feet fell asleep, leaving me wanting tea and wanting to talk to a particluar friend so often gone mssing.

Trying to get going I made a list of things to do but I am walking on eggshells. Can't seem to do anything inolving any sort of disruption. Tummy sore, maybe from popcorn. What can I do? I want to make as little noise or motion as possible. I will consult my list.

I haven't done a single useful thing today, and I had a lot I needed to do. With an hour to go before I need to be somewhere I could go super-speed useful. Fold laundry, do dishes, balance checkbooks, etc. Or I could not.

Cutting onios for chowder the blade of the knife comes free and stays fast in the onion. No thyme but bay leaves. Salvaged two potatoes from the cupboard, should have had three. Fish stock in the pot and in a bit haddock.

Woke up in a good mood but these things change quickly. I'll do the dishes, get my work out of the car... year-end books to do, and some cataloging. May trim the rose bushes, fall is as good a time as any. So many things that should be done. Which to do?

Got the following as an email today, the subject line was my boss' name...

this guy is nuts,the sks rifle does not walk around an shoot buy there
selfs,a person has to do that,the same person could use a bat an kill,
so now we ban the bat.people like this really suck

Pork stuffed with an apple and sausauge stuffing for dinner tonight with a cranberry sauce of orange juice, Grand Marnier, a little sugar and a couple handfuls of fresh berries, simmered down a bit then zzzed in the blender. The stuffing was a little rich but fun to make. The biggest problem with cooking like this is all the dishes left along the way.

Brought my Da lunch today then helped my sister move her house from its one floor into the floor below it. Mostly kitchen. The bedrooms are staying up where they are, with another created by the move.

My fingers are sore from quilting last night, little needle pricks all in my middle finger. I should practice violin tonight (I should practice violin every night); I hope my finger doesn't give me an easy excuse not to.

Voted today in a lackluster election. Left a lot of things blank.

Mondays have a habit of feeling just like Monday. Woke up groggy from a weekend of book fairs. Unhappy with the house, not feeling well, no idea how to begin the day. Forget eating, no good food. To market, I decide, but first clean the kitchen.

Dishes books paper yarn. No dry cat food, Gata is mad. Vacuum the floor then mop. Leave it drying with paw prints all around.

Stop on the out to see Charlotte and her new knee. People in my family replace parts. My dad's up for new lungs again, it's got me in a state. I've got his car now and in it I can listen to cd's. Damien Rice makes me melancholy, one song makes me think of someone in particular for no particular reason. To Rowley past sewer work on 133.

At the market I try to use coupons. I stare like an idiot at toothpaste and canned soup and tissues and the like, calculating discounted unit prices. Stopping grey-hair traffic, those ladies can barely push the cart anyway. Give up at the kitty litter, too depressing to eke out the pennies. I'd rather work more. Hard time buying produce with my new rules about the ten most pesticide-ridden fruits and veggies. Leave not sure I have anything I need but still having spent plenty.

At home cook dinner slowly head hurts and body aches. Blacken tomatillos, roast garlic. Chicken in the oven. Rice on the stove. Puree tomatillos with chipotles and cilantro. Tortillas warming. Roast summer squash and zucchini. Re-fry beans.

James gone now, I stay home. Trying to get better so I can see my da tomorrow. Bringing him lunch. Want to spend some time.

I don't think I have crushes this week. I have worries and cares. Some nice thoughts of people in particular and some guilt for missing readings. Happy to have made guest appearances in dreams but unhappy with the dreams I am having. Add them to my list of worries.

In an MSN search for “listen to Leanord Cohen”, I.W. is #4. AOL search for “Amanda”, #3. #21 in the Yahoo search for “sheer mohair”. #1 in the MSN search for “Amanda Cook”. Why is this all so amusing to me?

To Boston with my Da today, hi-diddley-o,
I'll sit and knit in waiting rooms wherever we go.
We'll have fun with oxygen, tanks lined in a row,
to Boston with my Da today! Hi-diddley-o!

Sitting not quite in the dark, not quite in shock, but knowing either is possible.

My crush list took a little break while I was out and about, but here it is, in full poetic force...

10.Shin Yu Pai
9. Michael Franco
8. Aaron Tieger
7. Mark Lamoureux
6. Mick Carr
5. Sean Cole
4. Chris Rizzo
3. Jim Behrle
2. Xtina
1. Joel Sloman

Left the Grand sometime after noon yesterday and wandered toward Central Square. By myself walking, with men behaving like men can, and Nate and Jen yelling to me as they drive by.

Hoped to find Suzy at the Phoenix Landing, then anybody I knew at the Field. Realizing after a while with my Murphy's that yes, I was alone. Irish boys playing pool in the back room, me half expecting a recognizable face to plod into the room. No, my nearest friend would be the silent man several stools down who finished three pints in the time I had my one. Even the boys at the corner talking about writing seemed more distant.

Tried to get something to eat but everything looked too big. Took the T to Harvard Square. Walked into the Greenhouse, walked out. To Woolcott's, where too many new knitters were pawing single skeins of extravagant yarns, asking the inevitable "how many skeins will I need for a scarf?"

Next door, the Red Line, nearly empty at the bar and with the football game on. I stop in for a bowl of soup and another pint. Wasting time, it going too slowly... order desert and scotch, move down the bar away from the business man and toward the English Premier League match the bartender has turned on. The match ends in a draw. I finish what is before me and although this bar makes me feel a little less vulnerable in my loneliness I can find no other reason to stay.

Pack myself up, out the door and who is there but Joel Sloman! Back in for coffee for me and a martini for him. Talk talk and I lay myself out more than I meant to but it is so nice to see Joel after being so alone for those hours. Happy it was Joel I ran into. Happy Joel is Joel.

To Wordsworth for the reading, met back up with James and the crowd. Xtina read wonderfully, I would like to read what she read again, or hear it again. Joel was as expected, shattering, nearly, his stuff is so good. Wanda Phipps was lovely as well but I have to admit to being particularly affected by Joel and Xtina since they both mean so much to me.

At the end dinner with Ben and Zac loud, at John Harvard's, with a somewhat surly server and mediocre food. Good company, though. Happy to see them.

Overwhelmed by the day and it welling up inside me. On the way to the car I feel nearly like falling apart. So much on the line and impossible to notice, anticipation unseen. A city can make me vulnerable if I am not ready for it.

It is nearly the perfect season for naps. Afternoon sun shines into the window by the bed, warming my face. Even though I couldn't sleep I lay there for some time with the orange shine on my eyelids.

Beans for chili on the stove, tea water on and I am happy for the day. Traffic on the way home from the match was utterly yuppie at the exit for Salem. Witches! Witches! Abigail Faulkner, my great-(add many greats here) grandmother, found guilty of witchcraft. Erased from public record, "dead" to the public, but not put to death since she was pregnant.

Some things are lovely enough to note, such as the way eyelashes cling to eachother when wet. How tape laced along the road sparkles in the sunlight.

Gata is doing her excericises. I am cutting dead branches off the ficus tree. And the prehistoric pine.

Barely waking, time for cleaning. Laundry! Laundry! Special ways for special stains. What in this house can't be vacuumed? Whites in the washer, water the plants...

Morning talk with Gabriel concerning industrialization, then home to clean after being away so much. What evil things lurk in the fridge! Gerrit over for lunch, lovely as always. Me with that lovely feeling, a fluttering in my breast.

Violin in a new spot looking out out as far as I can see over the Atlantic. A new piece to learn, with shifts, and a pint for good measure. My mind is wandering and I am letting it go as it pleases. It has nowhere to be for some time yet.

A new song running through my mind so that I have no choice but to listen to it until I know it by heart. Another love song.

Back from Buffalo, here’s the report:

Friday morning tired and worn into the car and onto the road. A.D. and I navigating music and words, coming to common ground. Stopping stopping stopping for various indulgences and needs, all minor. Across the landscape full of texture and color, browns and reds, cross-hatched in the season. Chocolate in my mouth melting slowly.

Arriving in Buffalo some time after dark, into careful streets of quiet houses in Williamsville, past schools and jobs and stories littering the way. Hello to the folks, food for the belly, and out the door again. A couple beercicles later we are back and into bed.

Saturday morning bagels and lox. Family ride to the Falls, this side of the border. Floaty pen and shot glass, fudge and post cards. Over the border, past the floral clock, to lunch looking over the river. Two hours on the bridge.

Saturday night: Anchor bar for Buffalo wings, D. and A. and I are drinking rounds like fish drink water. Jon Jansen at the other end of the bar, we say hello and he meets my Hello Kitty notebook. Wee Canadians keep us amused as the rest of the place recognizes Redskins. Ted (ted!)shows up and in our glory we let him in on the secrets we know, but not all of them. More rounds, whiskey and beer. Cognac when Rick arrives. Waitress joins us for a glass of wine, busboy enters the conversation in his own way…

Out too late to get up early but by 7:30 I am up, knitting in the dark kitchen, watching squirrels eat bird seed. Family rises, breakfast is eaten, father to gym and the rest off to find a craft show. We failed. Then father, A and I see Blake at the museum. Arthur Dove and paper mache, explanations and theory. Muses on either side. Out for coffee and music and tremendous cranberry streusel. Back home for dinner.

Sunday night (surprise!) out again, pick up Ted and Jay and Rendezvous with oysters and crayfish. How to win a girl, a self-help program in 67 easy steps. Pink with the rat and the drummer, outside lacking fries and gravy.

Home late again. Morning bustle, up and out. Brunch, cider, Tim Horton’s. On the road to Albany. Dinner with friends and an escort out of the city by police car 105. Drive, drive, drive. Happy to be home collapsing in arms.

In Buffalo with A.D.- off to the Falls!

My dental hygenist this morning was a man. I wasn't ready for that. Posters of the inside of a cockpit, him on a motorcycle, Swedish and Italian flags. I wonder where the last hygenist went.

Clean teeth new brush free is always cheaper. Looking at the mess around the house and not doing a thing about it. Leaving for Buffalo in the morning and what does a girl bring to Buffalo? To Boston, to Boston, jiggedy-jig, no time to pack anyway. Unless you count now.

Packed books today for a fair in Springfield. I won't be there. Found some good books, some lovely books, folios, facsimile reprints, firsts, etc. Lovely Canterbury Tales, illustrated by Kent, 2 vols. First English of Freud's Interpretation of Dreams. Brownies and Water Babies.

Packing up my violin before my lesson scared to death by a spider, black with white on the back. Spent some time catching it, locked it in an old plastic container. Grabbed my spider book and ran off (late already) to my lesson. Tried to identify it but my book isn't so good.

I am afraid of spiders. Mostly the brown recluse, or the Violin Spider. I know this is not a recluse but I am nervous about letting it go until I know what it is: one needn't fear what one knows (although I would like to keep that option). I will try again when I get home tonight. If there is one spider there may be more. I would like to to have to be afraid of this kind altogether.

Bad mood day. Later letters of Lear, baseball is breaking my heart. Found my own copy of Goops, knew I knew it from somewhere and under the piles of art books in other languages there it was. Mom gets art books from the back room, Guest-man Rat boks for the book Rome.

A quick note on baseball:

After discussing the ugliness of yesterday's game over and over and over again, I've come to understand that I really don't like that part of the game. James talked at length about the violence that is inherent in sport. I understand that there will be some violent actions, but bench clearing? Coaches swinging at players?

I understand that intimidation and retaliation are part of the game. A pitcher has to throw inside. Occasionally he will hit a player. There will be hard slides, hard tags, hard plays. Fine. Good, tough playing is fine with me.

But keep it in the play. I am sick of this extra drama. There are 4 umps on the field, 6 for playoffs. Can't they keep some sort of order? As far as I am concerned, starting toward the mound is not okay. Coaches yelling at umps, screaming in their faces, is not okay. Benches clearing is not okay. If a basketball player leaves the bench, he is ejected. A soccer coach can be ejected if he leaves his box. Even in football coaches don't rush onto the field.

Why is this behavior okay in baseball?

There were some great plays in yesterday's game that will never get a second glance because f the rumble in the fourth inning. What about Damon coming back from his concussion, getting a few (albeit questionable) hits and catching a ball right off the wall, or that nice double play late in the game? Completely overshadowed.

I love baseball. Really. But I would like to see a little more accountability for bad behavior, both for players and coaches. Someone walks toward the mound? Eject them. A coach runs out onto the field? Eject them. Benches clear? Gone.

I know this is asking a lot, but unless the tone of baseball changes, ugly behavior will continue. This activity outside of plays takes away from the game. Come on, guys, play ball.

We are nearly rioting here for lack of baseball. The creation of dimples can be a tragic process with long-lasting consequences. That was bloody yesterday.

It is important to note that I bought my cowboy boots before the Red Sox clinched anything. Are you looking for another girl? Pornographic needlepoint can be disappointing and Moomins are hard to find. Little My! I don't want to change the world.

Boston seems so far away some days, what with roads and rain and stomach aches. Noah cleaned my tub on Friday, leaving little footprints of mud. Could've gone to the Pats game today but no! the rain! They've never heard of love.

I can get sentimental when I am homesick. I apologize to all who have been affected. Pears from the back yard make good crisp. They don't know about us.

Berry tea was very berry. Sports can be a good weapon for a girl. Old Joe Clark! Is Arm Sasser because of the catcher? He should know. Josh Reynolds and his stories of Columbian cowboys, holsters and man purses. I go to the dentist on Thursday.

Melancholy what with having pillows and stuffed mouse thrown at me and still no baseball! Good to be home. Tired, but good.

So here we are in the Seattle rain. I spent the day running around Capitol Hill, drinking beverages of all sorts. I replaced the Buzzcocks pin I lost in Maine this summer. I wrote postcards to my nephews. I browsed.

Met up with Babs and Angie to go to the Hot House Spa for steam and dry saunas, hot tub and cold plunge. Met Jess upstairs after at the lesbian bar upstairs and watched in horror as Johnny "Monchichi" Damon and Damian Jackson banged heads. Drank a pint-sized martini. Went for pho.

My crush list this week is Seattle-based and, I'm sorry to say, barely a poet on there. Lots of oceanographers, though.


10. Gus
9. David
8. John Mickett
7. Colin
6. Jess
5. Angie Dickens
4. Mark
3. Neil Banas
2. The Goodship (Lisa, Christie and Susan)
1. Babs!

Gus we met at the Pac Inn, watched the Sox together and enjoyed talk about Massachusetts... David is a bouncer at The Kells and a member of the Celtic Supporter Club out there... he talked to us and made us feel welcome at the bar at 4:30 Saturday morning... John Mickett kept me entertained at the First friday Kegger... Colin sand along to Leanord Cohen songs, but in a gentle, background sort of way... Jess showed up tonight! Angie is always nice to see... Mark was fun at the party and tea in the morning and such a nice voice for cowboy songs! Neil put up with me monopolizing Amanda and is amusing and sweet... the Goodship, well, such a nice group of girls, and they let me stay here! Susan, what you said at the party right back at you, if I wasn't, etc. Christie is the best example of "the adult thing to do" and still be a great person*. I'd want Lisa on my side in a bar fight, or if I were sad I'd want her around, or if I wanted to have a rockin' kick-ass time. And Babs, well, Miss Amanda Babson is just about the best friend in the world. And a decent shot at pool.

We're going to bed soon, tired from eating too much and wet from the rain. G'night, Seattle. G'night, home.

*"The adult thing to do" is what my boss says to me. It means to do things right without putting up with or giving much shit.

I hope Franz Wright won't dismiss me because Aaron is my friend. I'm worried now about the company I keep. Will we ever be able to overcome these social boundaries? Oh, Franz Wright, you don't even know me!

In an attempt to be fair, I would like to point out that there are a lot of people who don't know me. Stella McCartney, designer-daughter of Paul does no know me. Tony Kushner, whose play Homebody/Kabul I may disparage or applaud, does not know me. Jack Black does not know me. Nor does Jack White. The guy who does the weather on Fox News does not know me. Etc.

Friends, there are a lot of people out there. Even Nick Piombino doesn't know me. Really. That's the nice thing about this world. So many people we could come to know. I'd just hate to have doors close like that.

Franz, I promise I won't judge you by your friends. Maybe not even by your poetry. Nick, you are being held to a higher standard: I found your book Poems at a used book store in the University District out here in Seattle and plan to take it on the plane home to read when the old lady next to me asks if the yarn I am knitting with has any angora in it and could I please put it away? She is having a bad reaction...

Sunday morning coming down...

All my friends are still asleep upstairs but one. There are lots of donuts leftover. The party had 3 themes: Diner, Denner and Donner. Crazy kids. The night ended with a few of us drinking whiskey around the kitchen table singing Johnny Cash songs.

When will everybody wake up?

Today is Amanda Babson's birthday. We are getting ready for a party, with a secret theme to be revealed later. Neil is hanging signs. I am making soup. Babs is mopping.

We went to a Celtic Supporter's Club down near Pike Place Market this morning at 4:30 to see Celtic beat Rangers. Woohoo. It was still so early when we left, the sky was dark for some time. We had breakfast at Beth's, big big food and drunk drunk kids. Then shopping at the Farmer's Market. Donuts from Mighty-O's. For the party.

Last night we went to the First Friday Kegger for the oceanography department at U W. Those crazy kids. And adults. Bus home Pac Inn Fish Chips Beer. Yum.

Viva Viva SeaTac!

Got to Seattle last night. Dinner at Malay Satay. Kind of in the international district. Home to set up my bed on Amanda's floor (a futon brought up from downstairs) then out to the Pac Inn down the street. A couple beers, a very bad game of pool (on my part), a heartbreaking baseball game and a good night's sleep after.

This morning we had oatmeal with salmonberry syrup. Are cloudberries and salmonberries the same thing? We made our way on the 44 to the Ballard Locks. Big fish jumping. Jump, fish, jump! To Archie McFee's on the way home, then a couple of Scandinavian gift stores. I was looking for Moomins but didn't find any. I finished the second Moomin book Joel lent me on the plane. What I wouldn't do for my own Little My.

We went to a Norwegian food shop. Babs got a tube of smoked herring pate for Neil. I got a little piece of almond cake and, a moment later, a hot dog. The women were t alking about them in a way that it seemed sinful to leave without the option of trying one. So much better than American hot dogs! You'll never want to eat any other kind of sausage! How could I resist? I don't know when I will eat it.

We're going for coffee now (they have thebest computers and coffee and smack here, I heard). Then on the First Thursday Art Walk. We hope to see beaded oddities and pornographic needlepoint.

Monday, Monday and the v. boys beat the blue devils. Still chilly from watching the game by the canal. Soup's warmin'.

Busy weekend, busy as a bee. Friday to Tufts then Kingston K o' C then Medford. Saturday to Allston then Gloucester to cut sheep out of wood and sew and to Watertown and quick stops in Brighton and Somerville to drop off the friends then back to Gloucester. Sunday to Medford then home and happily so. And everything was lovely.

I'm getting ready to go to Seattle. Happy Seattle! What to pack? What to bring? Cowboy boots and velvet dress, knitting and Moomin book. Funky shoes and cozy pajamas. Paper for letter writing. Jeans and a hairbrush.

Origami paper?

I finished nearly everything on my list today. Had the boys for a bit, that interupted the list-doing and coffee after with my sister as well. I need to go food shopping tomorrow. Morning, I think, nice and early.

Blues is happening in the living room.

This week my crushes are as follows:

10. Aaron Tieger
9. Gerrit Lansing
8. Joe Torra
7. Xtina Strong
6. Mark Lamoureux
5. Mick Carr
4. Joel Sloman
3. Chris Rizzo
2. Shin Yu Pai
1. Jim Behrle

I typed Lansing as Landsing at first. I like it that way. Gerrit Landsing landsong sing song Gerrit. Last week someone searched for gerrit + lansing + chicken and ended up here.

Shin Yu, I'm perfect too...

Violin lessons make me happy. Nate said nice things to me about my tone, so nice. I learned to play The Auld Triangle last night. My instructions for Down in the Valley were to make foxes two miles away cry with my sweet notes. I have a new song to work on and am practicing double stops.

Took Mum to her last test for the week and then for a walk on the beach. Tried ona hilarious fake-fur coat in Rockport. Had more coffee. I love coffee.

I had an unexpected day today. Stopped for coffee at the grange and to get a juice for my mother for after her bloodwork. That all went well and by 9:30 I was at Gerrit's being talked into a mushroom walk. Had hope to see Mister County (doesn't one always hope to see Mr. County?) but settled for a quick hello on the telephone.

The walk was lovely with nurses and Erika and Sally the old lady from Manchester and Gary, who had more of that boy enthusiasm than the rest of us combined. This was my first time looking for mushrooms and it took a while for me to find anything beyond the most average mushrooms (which did excite me). I did get some nice edible mushrooms: Chanterelles, Boletes, Hen-of-the-woods, some puff balls, some Russulaceae, I think, and some Coral something. I should know the names better but by the time I got them home they were a little beat-up and harder to identify. I did get the experts to okay them all.

I can't wait for James to get home so I can cook them for dinner. There are a lot of bugs around them. That worries me a bit and I am trying to get them off. Gary flies out to Seattle to harvest Morels. He wants me to go to the Lochs when I am out there next week. They have great mushrooms near Seattle, he says.

Gerrit and I had lunch at Thai Choice, where we ran into my boss and Anthony Weller having lunch. I recommend the Artist's Lunch as a replacement for the Business Lunch. Poets, painters, music makers- go out for lunch! Discuss your ideas and spend time giggling over foolish and important things! Let the gentle pace rule the rest of your day! Then go, if where you are hasn't got good coffee, to someplace that does. Get a pastry. Split it, for goodness sake! What joy is there but in sharing such things!

So we did. Cafe Sicilia itself at a different pace than the usual morning time I am there. Paul laughing, bread already made and mostly sold. Old ladies buying cookies, two of each kind. Talk about politics and football. That's soccer to the rest of you.

Went to work, mostly to show Gregor my mushrooms. Put books away and stopped almost done to catch the bus. Home over the foot bridge.

I am sorry to have not made it to MGH to see my da today. I could have made it but the timing was all wrong and James needed the car. He doesn't mind, but I don't like him to be there alone too much. He is much better suited to it than I would be. From experience, I think. He has eased into that sort of peace of mind.

Just waiting now, for James. So I can cook mushrroms. I wonder what they will taste like. I am heating up the chowder I made on Monday so we have something more to eat than my handfulls of mushrooms that will be next to nothing once they are cooked.

I saw a dragonfly this morning by the back door. He was so large and still there and even when the dog passed his wings barely quivered.

It was a mean mean morning, meaner than I could have guessed, mean enough to almost turn the car around and not go back. Ever. But the afternoon turned to forgiveness and big steps forward. Momentum moves that way as well and let's hope it continues.

Watched the boys do drills on the fields that were once the town dump. The are so flat up there but with a little curve to the edges so you think it may be the curve of the earth. The sky raced by with mist hanging and spitting little drops, hair blowing wind-wicked. Just as practice ended the sky opened and as James and I walked to the car we were soaked through. Pools of rain into the ciupholders I cleaned witht his morning's nervous energy. Glasses wet and not a dry surface to wipe them.

Driving slowly through main-street currents, water rushing and falling in sheet. Too tired to go home and needing to sit facing eachother we ended up at Jalapenos for soup to warm us and a beer for the long day. Couldn't go straight home anyway. Rain like that floods the corner near Willowrest. Talked and talked. Glad to see Jaime, glad for tortillas, glad to be wet but still not cold. Glad for Chiclets.

On the way home shivering now cold pools easing off the streets and new potholes showing their faces. Up into the tub and into bed and listen to the game phone rings get up write this and though it's early I am going to bed. G'night.

Can't sleep, worried about tomorrow. I don't hear the bell buoy but the waves are loud. A light is flickering just enough outide to make my eyes want to be open. It is up near the hill, odd enough, not from the water.

I am thinking of dream places of places to escape and now they are gone to me. Wooded paths I would run down in the moonlight to the water and sometimes in, crescent beaches where I sat for hours looking for beach glass. The world ignored me in my hours there and then all of a sudden the place was overrun with ghosts.

My mother tells a story about swimming with a seal in Folly Cove. This year she hasn't been in the ocean once. Her eyes don't look out longingly at the water; they are like the water looking carelessly back at the shoreline. I wonder what that seal took from her. What was the trade-off for that swim?

What will I do when tomorrow falls apart? I would like to be able to go back to that beach, take the same path down. Are the ghosts still there? I haven't checked in so long. I am sure the rocks have been moved by storms since then. The ballroom, the split rock, sunset and sunrise. Do urchins still fill that crack? I once found a Christmas tree washed up on the rocks. I stood it up, trunk wedged between two granite boulders. It stayed there for months.

When I was five I walked in my sleep from my room to the antique store my mother owned, just next store and now the bookstore I work at. I curled myself up in a wrought iron crib and slept there until morning. Another time I ended up in the hammock hung between two weeping willows in the back yard. I haven't walked in my sleep since.

This week's crush list is based on the desire to have a meal or an ice cream cone with the following poets...

10.Nick Pimbino
9. Mike County
8. Simon Pettet
7. Shin Yu Pai
6. Jim Behrle
5. Joe Torra
4. Bill Corbett
3. Joel Sloman
2. Jordan Davis
1. Chris Rizzo

It is important to note that certain poets have been excluded, as I have the opportunity to dine with them often.

A German Google finds this site as the only match for

"and i am sad sad sad" song everything i am supposed to be

Ignoring illness working wonders.

The swans in Mill Pond are growing out of their ugly duckling phase. Most of them have shed their brown feathers for pure white but two have gone quite charcoal. Are we set for black swans? I remember one in Cork Loch, seeming to swim against the hundreds of white swans around him.

I am considering crushes. Today is my crush day and I'm not feeling all that crushed. Anybody's game, and bribery is fine.

Days of feeling crummy. I'm sick of that. Head still hurts, tummy a bit better. I'm mostly grumpy about it now because me da is back at MGH and if I am sick I can't visit him.

I haven't had a cup of coffee since Friday. This makes me bitter.

In spite of my grumpy bitter crumminess, I am going to have a good day today. If I get everything I need to do done in the beginning of the day I can just collapse and take a nap if I need to. Sleep is nice when you aren't worrying.

So tired! A nice tired, though, not grumpy but weary with all that is done. Days are full and long but in the end happy.

I woke this morning with a bit of a woozy head, too much of yesterday yesterday. Mid-week matches tend to get me in trouble. My cider went from the usual size to 20 ounces, and I'm still in the regular rounds. Ouch.

My sister came over with the boys this morning. We overcame our fear of the band saw by cutting out little wooden sheep and a shepherd for her Sunday School class. I don't believe in that stuff but she does. I do believe in helping her. I do believe in power tools. We also found and used hand drills. Big holes to put the posts in, small holes in the posts to thread a fence though. I am amazed at what we finished and want to make more wooden things.

I had my first violin lesson in a long long time today. I am nervous again about reading music. My bow hold and posture are still okay. Nate says my tone is good. My September Resolution is to practice more.

Daniel, Andrew and Noah slept over on Tuesday night. We covered all the furniture in the living room with old Star Wars sheets. Made a big sleep-over haven. I moved the coffee table from the living room into the kitchen. We all sat on the floor for dinner. The chicken took forever. We started with mashed potatoes and green beans while we were waiting. When the bird was finally done the boys tore into it. Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys.

Celtic lost yesterday. Ouch. Marcus Hedman is not my friend. Ben came to see the match and shared some curry chips. Zac showed up after. I like being drunk in the middle of the day. I don't drink all that often during the school year, mostly during these mid-week matches and special events. I like to make it matter.

Couldn't get on to Blogger yesterday or the day before. Oh well. I think it was something to do with my computer and connection. Maybe my absence of several days at a time will add to my mystique.

If not, my cowboy boots will.

So tired! A nice tired, though, not grumpy but weary with all that is done. Days are full and long but in the end happy.

I woke this morning with a bit of a woozy head, too much of yesterday yesterday. Mid-week matches tend to get me in trouble. My cider went from the usual size to 20 ounces, and I'm still in the regular rounds. Ouch.

My sister came over with the boys this morning. We overcame our fear of the band saw by cutting out little wooden sheep and a shepherd for her Sunday School class. I don't believe in that stuff but she does. I do believe in helping her. I do believe in power tools. We also found and used hand drills. Big holes to put the posts in, small holes in the posts to thread a fence though. I am amazed at what we finished and want to make more wooden things.

I had my first violin lesson in a long long time today. I am nervous again about reading music. My bow hold and posture are still okay. Nate says my tone is good. My September Resolution is to practice more.

Daniel, Andrew and Noah slept over on Tuesday night. We covered all the furniture in the living room with old Star Wars sheets. Made a big sleep-over haven. I moved the coffee table from the living room into the kitchen. We all sat on the floor for dinner. The chicken took forever. We started with mashed potatoes and green beans while we were waiting. When the bird was finally done the boys tore into it. Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys.

Celtic lost yesterday. Ouch. Marcus Hedman is not my friend. Ben came to see the match and shared some curry chips. Zac showed up after. I like being drunk in the middle of the day. I don't drink all that often during the school year, mostly during these mid-week matches and special events. I like to make it matter.

Couldn't get on to Blogger yesterday or the day before. Oh well. I think it was something to do with my computer and connection. Maybe my absence of several days at a time will add to my mystique.

If not, my cowboy boots will.

For the rest of you knitting rock stars.

I've been on a bit of a blog vacation. Really an internet vacation. My connection at home has been very very bad, kicking me off every time I try to do anything. I haven't had the patience to stick to it. I've done a lot of other things in the time I could have spent grumpily reconnecting.

I'm sorry, everyone who has emailed me that I haven't responded to yet. Soon.

I had a horrific Friday and a good and bad Saturday and a lazy Sunday and a decent Monday. Thursday also happened.

High points of the last few days: P and A's party, knitting a ball and a hat (short rows- gotta love 'em), sleeping lots on Saturday, chocolate ice cream and kahlua, finding the keys I lost a long time ago (months) in the toy box, devoting Sunday to American football and a bad bad movie, getting email from Simon Pettet, getting some good cleaning and reorganizing done, lunch with my Dad (I wish I called him Da... lunch with my Da sounds nice), my cowboy boots coming in the mail and fitting.

Low points of the last few days: My da feeling too sick to stay in Boston for his second appointment, Johnny Cash dying, spilling a bowl of Murphy's Oil Soap on myself (knocked over by a vacuum as I was trying to clean under a table), spiders, my mom's breakdown, feeling cruddy cruddy cruddy all weekend, another fish dying.

Some things are getting done, and I like that. Things with me ma are up and down. Today she sounds very together, makes a lot of sense, seems pretty happy, but reports that the clouds in Rockport terrorized her all day. I can understand how they would. I guess that's fine; being sensitive to the atmosphere is better than being miserable.

I bought a ticket to go to Seattle at the beginning of October. Cowboy booys to wear to Seattle!

I got cider donuts today. Took a back road to get them. On the way I found a big chalk board on the side of the road marked 'free'. I grabbed it for my sister, who is homeschooling her boys and is just about to make a classroom for them. Happy for cider donuts and chalk boards!

I missed seeing so many poets this week. My crush list is just fond thoughts as I sit here. The bad movie I saw last night had a moment in which George Clooney was explaing to J Lo a feeling similar to my butterfly on your shoulder feeling. Here are my butterflies for the week.

10 Aaron Tieger
9 Mark Lamoureux
8 Mick Carr
7 Xtina Strong
6 Joel Sloman
5 Chris Rizzo
4 Joe Torra
3 Gerrit Lansing
2 Mike County
1 Simon Pettet

I keep waiting until night to write, and by the time I do, I am very tired.

Today I had coffee at the Sunny Day and finished the back of the sage green sweater. I brought Gerrit a piece of pie and cast on for the front of the sweater while he caw-cawed to the crows. Joe arrived and after a brief piano interlude he and Gerrit went mushrooming. I went home.

I cleaned my room waiting for my mother to call. She had left two worrisome messages while I was out. After she called I cleaned my room while I was waiitng for her to come over. I like that slow sort of cleaning that involves sorting through things. It makes me feel like I have some sort of control over my life.

I went to the bank and to get coffee for James and myself. Walked in on a school newspaper meeting. Left the car and sat in the sun by the canal waiting for my sister to pick me up.

We went to the mall. Yikes, the mall. But we had a great time. She left most of her kids playing with a neighbor, so it was just her, Elijah and me. I got cowboy boots (ordered, they should be here this week), Star Wars guys for Noah for Xmas (E. is due to have her 5th in December, so we are trying to get all the shopping and making done early. And the guys were only $1.99 each). I bought a vacuum for my mother for her birthday. And bags and belts. And the service plan for when she breaks it, which she will. She always breaks vacuums. On Friday morning I am going to go over and help her clean.

Back to Gloucester, met James and TJ (just turned 21) at the Blackburn. Drank a Newcastle, then back to my sister's for the highlight of the day: Elijah's first steps!

It is so late again!

I had a good day today. Got a lot of things done. Little things, big things, lots of things. Washed the yellow flannel sheets for the guest bed and made it for whomever is next. mopped the kitchen floor. Finished Samantha's quilt and the quilt for Cole. Matched socks. Phone calls and money stuff. Stopped by and did my mother's dishes. Had cappuccino at Cafe Sicilia. Watered the plants. Babysat.

Yestrday I put all of my cotton fabrics for patchwork away in document storage boxes. It fits nicely and is easy to get to now. I have a box of Asian fabrics. Another for juvenle prints and brightly colored fabrics. A box for solids, stripes and dots. One box that has the vintage blue fabrics I have gathered for a quilt, the Hawaiian fabric Babs got me, African fabric and the fairy fabric I am saving for a baby quilt shold I ever have a baby. A box full of calico and flowers. The last is full of fabric that reminds me of fall, beaches, maps and wood.

I may put my beads in boxes next. I have 6 more boxes. I like the way they fit in the closet in the kitchen hall.

A quick note before I go to bed (just got home from babysitting)...

My Poetic Crush List
10. Ben Webster (for that line about Joyce)
9. Jim Dunn
8. Jim Behrle
7. Gerrit Lansing
6. Joel Sloman
5. Mike County
4. Joe Torra
3. Simon Pettet
2. Chris Rizzo
1. Xtina Strong

Maybe I shouldn't have counted the ladder/stool that Jess lent me when we were painting our first apartment that I never gave back as stealing. But how did I get violent?

According to the Inferno test, you may not want to be my friend. But I was brutally honest.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Low
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test

In trying to perfect shopping locally while avoiding the evil Shaws monster I ended up with too much food for dinner. My first stop, IGA, where I got enough for tonight and tomorrow. Haddock, chicken, veggies. Salt and Vinegar chips for when I pick James up, because he will be too hungry, I know.

Then, on the way home, I notice the Pigeon Cove Fish Market is open. I'd never been there, so I thought I should try it. Steamers and smoked mackeral. Couldn't resist.

Driving up past Folly Cove and there are Harry's vegetables. Organic, grown on a ledge hanging out over the sea. James had one of his first good tomatoes from Harry's farm. I don't need tomatoes at all, but I got some anyway. A bag of plum tomatoes, a bag of new potatoes, a big zucchini and two green peppers. Put the money in the little green box. I almost got beets but I don't think James likes them.

Now I don't know what to cook for dinner. Steamers in white wine with garlic and parsley? Haddock done in a similar fashion? Salad, of course, but maybe justa tomato salad with basil. I should cook rice before I pick James up so the rest of dinner is fast. Maybe I'll pick up a bottle of Moxie on the way. That would make him happy.

Routine 3, but with new coffee. What a good morning! All those little things that need to get done got done. I am trying to get that productivity to continye now that I am at work. Wish me luck.

In the google search for What should I cook for dinner tonight, my whirlygig was #3.

It is Knitting Night. I am wearinga hipster shirt and hipster shoes. I don't mean to wear the both together but I can't find my loser shoes. The gals may be overwhelmed with my hipness.

Anne Marie baked cookies and is getting abottle of wine before she picks me up. We all need wine and cookies on rainy days. I successfully cheered myself up earlier, a bath and ignoring the phone helped. Made hummus for James.

I knit a swatch of the yarn I bought today; it feels just like I thought it would. I can't find my Interweave Knits magazines. Did I loan them out? I don't know what to knit with this new yarn. If I am good I won't start something new. I'll bring a couple things to work on so I have the option of being good.

Routine 3: yesterday's coffee heated up and egg on toast. My new pants are ridiculously long. Iron patchwork from last night and rush out of the house. Woke up too fast still tired but didn't sleep well anyway.

Today she is in her pajamas. Looking through her purse for the accident information, finding everything as if it were new. Trying to explain how she hit the boy's car: monstrous curbs, a loud honk, her turning startled into his car. Can we stop at the insurance place? No. I called them on Tuesday. Won't do any good.

Tired. My eyes hurt. The rain has pooled into a great puddle by Willowrest in the two hours since I was last there. Onto the highway, Hydroplane Lane. She tells the story of the day her mother died and the dog ate the tube of cerulon blue. Sitting on the floor trying to make the puppy vomit. All the dogs at the vet's howling. They are sad because she is sad. And the vet saying "she'll be okay" but no, Marnie's dead. I promise we can buy paint after we buy cleaning supplies.

At the store she buys two of the biggest size of each thing- does that make the place cleaner? She is drawn to the broken things on the clearance rack. Money in her pocket and still buying broken. I talk her out of it. My boss would say "It's the adult thing to do." Too tired today for this.

Walking in a daze tot he craft store, the rain falling harder and harder. Picking up crap and commenting on it. I don't want a blue t-shirt, I don't want a stretch bracelet. I want to go home. I feel myself getting condescending. I dont want to do that. She buys tubes and tubes of paint. I buy yarn I don't need, because I need to do something. I feel selfish with my time. I want to make the trip partly for me.

On the way home I am hungry. I don't want to eat out but I won't have time to stop at home before work, so we stop at the rest stop in Beverly. Sub with vegetables and chicken, not so bad for me. Coffee and muffin for her. Through the purse again and chewing chewing chewing with her mouth open. I am losing patience, if I had any today. More stories, everything always about her. I try to talk. I'm tired. I am just quiet after a while.

In the car ont he way home The Connection is on, talking about fonts. My mother is a great sign painter. She has designed several type faces in her day. Today hand lettering is nearly obselete. She laughs at the anmes of fonts and recalls her favorites.

At the house I help her bring everything in, unpack the bags. Put the new dish pan and dish drain to use. The black grime is on everything again. It's from the coffee pot, an old percolator. Black from the gas flame. I take time to wash it off, scrubbing years of soot off before going to work. It's the only way. It won't come off my hands and I have to go.

At work now, things not going quite right, and all I want to do is go home and take a bath.

The sewing machine is out and it's not getting put away for some time. I don't expect any guests for a while so I am not fretting about leaving piles of fabric around the house. All around the house. I seem to have lost the front of the quilt for Samantha. That's no good.

I made a new curtain for the bathroom. Put it up and hated it. I like light to pour into rooms. I know some of my friends have rooms that are flooded with light at ungodly hours but with my face waking in a west-facing window I don't have that problem. Sheer dusky-blue makes the bathroom too dark, I think. I've considered making an elaborate beaded curtain but I think Gata would kill it.

I'm thinking of a baby quilt for Cole. Something blue and fishy.

Another idea for an unfinished project...

Talking with friends this weekend, noting missing ISBN numbers on little chapbooks, I thought of how else books are noticed. Bibliographies! I use them all the time-- Campbell's book on Bowditch, Gosse's Pirates, etc. So I thought I should start an online bibliography of small press poetry publications.

What say you, publishers of poetry? Would you like to be collected into a long list?

Email me.

Morning coffee back to routine 2 with Jim in Lanesville, new boy J.T. christian, no doubt, and John who mumbles that he hasn't seen me for a long time but I gave him a ride last week from the Lanesville Package Store to Willowrest. Read Rizzo's Spiritude, nearly fell off my chair by the time he brought up Moxie what with first and last lines no longer so tied up in eachother. At WBZ newstime 8 o'clock I up and go past the guys in front of the packy up past Judith's house and Ben's and the computer desk on the sidewalk and dill grow out of the crack in the road and everything flowering in the morning mist.

Into my old house with dogs barking and my mother in moon boots I hug her say no to coffee and we start to talk- things are going wrong - I want to tell her not to worry it doesn't matter but it does it all matters. Make a plan when Ralph comes down and talk talk talk like the hum of an old electric type writer buzzzzz with no pause no space for me to talk and I give up blow up what am I supposed to do? I don't have blinders on.

Drive mom's car backto her house check engine light on no windshield washer fluid wipers don't even touch the windshield. Call insurance company call Hamer call opthomologist call doctor call vet call Robert call everyone for my mother. Kitchen is messy with grime from the stove there is no other word for it but grime black and greasy and everywhere. Push it down deep into my toes get rid of dishpan no sponge wash clean dishes again they aren't clean get rid of dish drain try to clean sink wash dishes again and this time a new load. Clean counter of grime and empty bottles and half-full bottles of every kind of thing like lotion and vodka and orange cleaner and flea soap. Throw it all away.

She gives me money and a heart-shaped rock and chopsticks. I try to refuse it all but no use. Ride home car smells of dog. Stop at estate trash pile to look at stuff what might be a rug is fabric wet fabric she gives me some. I take it home to wash it, nice upholstery fabric but wet. Into the wash as soon as I get home.

Upstairs to rest to work I paint my toenails pink and don't answer the phone toenails wet take a bath bake do laundry. I think I'll take a day off from it tomorrow.

Morning coffe back to routine 2 with Jim in Lanesville, new boy J.T. christian, no doubt, and John who mumbles that he hasn't seen me for a long time but I gave him a ride last week from the Lanesville Package Store to Willowrest. Read Rizzo's Spiritude, nearly fell off my chair by the time he brought up Moxie what with first and last lines no longer so tied up in eachother. At WBZ newstime 8 o'clock I up and go past the guys in front of the packy up past Judith's house and Ben's and the computer desk on the sidewalk and dill grow out of the crack in the road and everything flowering in the morning mist.

Into my old house with dogs barking and my mother in moon boots I hug her say no to coffee and we start to talk- things are going wrong - I want to tell her not to worry it doesn't matter but it does it all matters. Make a plan when Ralph comes down and talk talk talk like the hum of an old electric type writer buzzzzz with no pause no space for me to talk and I give up blow up what am I supposed to do? I don't have blinders on.

Drive mom's car backto her house check engine light on no windshield washer fluid wipers don't even touch the windshield. Call insurance company call Hamer call opthomologist call doctor call vet call Robert call everyone for my mother. Kitchen is messy with grime from the stove there is no other word for it but grime black and greasy and everywhere. Push it down deep into my toes get rid of dishpan no sponge wash clean dishes again they aren't clean get rid of dish drain try to clean sink wash dishes again and this time a new load. Clean counter of grime and empty bottles and half-full bottles of every kind of thing like lotion and vodka and orange cleaner and flea soap. Throw it all away.

She gives me money and a heart-shaped rock and chopsticks. I try to refuse it all but no use. Ride home car smells of dog. Stop at estate trash pile to look at stuff what might be a rug is fabric wet fabric she gives me some. I take it home to wash it, nice upholstery fabric but wet. Into the wash as soon as I get home.

Upstairs to rest to work I paint my toenails pink and don't answer the phone toenails wet take a bath bake do laundry. I think I'll take a day off from it tomorrow.

Morning coffe back to routine 2 with Jim in Lanesville, new boy J.T. christian, no doubt, and John who mumbles that he hasn't seen me for a long time but I gave him a ride last week from the Lanesville Package Store to Willowrest. Read Rizzo's Spiritude, nearly fell off my chair by the time he brought up Moxie what with first and last lines no longer so tied up in eachother. At WBZ newstime 8 o'clock I up and go past the guys in front of the packy up past Judith's house and Ben's and the computer desk on the sidewalk and dill grow out of the crack in the road and everything flowering in the morning mist.

Into my old house with dogs barking and my mother in moon boots I hug her say no to coffee and we start to talk- things are going wrong - I want to tell her not to worry it doesn't matter but it does it all matters. Make a plan when Ralph comes down and talk talk talk like the hum of an old electric type writer buzzzzz with no pause no space for me to talk and I give up blow up what am I supposed to do? I don't have blinders on.

Drive mom's car home check engine light on no windshield washer fluid wipers don't even touch the windshield. Call insurance company call Hamer call opthomologist call doctor call vet call Robert call everyone for my mother. Kitchen is messy with grime from the stove there is no other word for it but grime black and greasy and everywhere. Push it down deep into my toes get rid of dishpan no sponge wash clean dishes again they aren't clean get rid of dish drain try to clean sink wash dishes again and this time a new load. Clean counter of grime and empty bottles and half-full bottles of every kind of thing like lotion and vodka and orange cleaner and flea soap. Throw it all away.

She gives me money and a heart-shaped rock and chopsticks. I try to refuse it all but no use. Ride home car smells of dog. Stop at estate trash pile to look at stuff what might be a rug is fabric wet fabric she gives me some. I take it home to wash it, nice upholstery fabric but wet. Into the wash as soon as I get home.

Upstairs to rest to work I paint my toenails pink and don't answer the phone toenails wet take a bath bake do laundry. I think I'll take a day off from it tomorrow.

This week's crush list, a day late and a buck short. Special birthday wishes, you know who you are...

9. Jim Dunn
8. Joel Sloman
7. Mark Lamoureux
6. Mick Carr
5. Gerrit Lansing
4. Mike County
3. Xtina Strong
2. Chris Rizzo
1. Patrick Doud

After sushi and shopping I am tired, but I have to wait for the white load to be done so I can put the clothes in the dryer. I am happy to have moved two projects from the shameful unfinished list. Someday all of those will be moved. Then maybe I won't need lists. I hope to finish more soon. It's just that I can't start anything new without feeling bad about it unless I finish some of that stuff, and I really like starting things.

I am not so happy that they are putting brick sidewalks down on Main Street. I like bricks, don't get me wrong, but the old sidewalks had a pattern of lines that were a big part of my childhood. Once upon a time it took two steps to get across one of the rectangles. Careful not to step on cracks. Now I can do it in one step, but if I don't pay attention I can fall behind and end up on a crack. With bricks it is too hard. The whole things is cracks. I don't know how long the current sidewalk has been there, but I remember at least 22 years of avoiding those cracks (or walking distinctly down them, or keeping up some pattern). Maybe I'm wrong. I think I can remember them at 5....

My fun day of work yesterday turned into a day of dirty cleaning jobs. I can't blame my boss so much, he is in PA somewhere drinking whiskey and researching his next book proposal. It is my own fault for noticing. And today is another day of it. I wrote a grumpy post yesterday about it which was eaten by the post gods. It may be best that way.

I like the way Jordan is saying things lately. I've been thinking that sure isn't spelled the way I think it sounds lately. Other words, too. Sometimes I want to write the way it sounds, but that is sooo tricky. Could come out sounding like Vincent Ferrini instead of Kellman. I don't think it is a risk I can take.

My head hurts from dust etc. I think I will go home for lunch to let things settle before I finish. I'm trying to decide whether I should go to New York for a book fair the first weekend of September.

Salad and gazpacho are calling me, I'm off for a bit.

Thursday morning, time for work. The weather is great today. I have a few shelves of rare stuff to work on, I am putting it off until 10:30. It's nice to be here in the office.

Shin Yu asked about red food. I bought a lot more red food than I served. When people started bailing I decided not to make so much. Here is the comprehensive list of red and mars-related foods I had in the house just in case mobs of people showed up:

red globe grapes * strawberry frosting, a jar of cherries and pink sno balls to decorate a cake I didn't make (don't you think sno balls make good craters?) * lots of tomatoes * red popsicles * mangoes * fresh cherries * pepperoni * milky way bars, big and small, and midnight * plums * nectarines * apples * red hot dots * sun-dried tomato tortillas * fruit punch * cranberry juice * after shock* nectarines * dinosaur egg plums, or pluots, I think they mght be called * strawberries * strawberry margarita slush (made with tequila, which keeps it a little soft) * sky bars

There may be more, I may ammend....

I just tried to eat a package of Sno Balls. Wow. When I was at Emerson this kids who lived in my building was attacked by squirrels in the Public Garden while he was eating Sno Balls. He had his 15 minutes of fame being interviewed on college radio stations far and wide.

Best google search today-
14 is too old for a babysitter.

Red Food! Red Food! Red Food!

Mars Party planning, must use tomatoes from the garden. Everything red or space related. Are you coming? Would you like to? Let me know if you are taking a train in to Gloucester so we can pick you up.

I have one room that isn't still covered in books. Looks like we'll mostly be outside.

Just back from dinner with Ariane, had a nice time...

Here goes, poets... in the words of my favorite search for this blog this week,

bug shoe OR foot "crush it".

10. Joe Torra
9. Simon Pettet
8. Mark Lamoureux
7. Mick Carr
6. Chris Rizzo
5. Gerrit Lansing
4. Aaron Tieger
3. Mike County
2. Xtina Strong
1. Joel Sloman

I give up with the books. GIVE UP.

Anybody who comes for Mars tomorrow may see piles of books all over the house. I'll call it Art.

Do you need directions? Are you coming?

I'm thinking about poets... crush list coming soon.

In organizing books I have found a number of journals and diaries I started over the years, beginning with one with a unicorn tapestry on the cover that I started at the ripe age of 6. I don't get very far in these books. There are lots of blank pages. It's a bit of a trip down memory lane. I don't know what to do with them.

I have been informed that Creeley was not on the Gloucester shelf, but that the Black Mountain and the Gloucester share a shelf. I should have noticed Duncan there. Williams was just there to make more room in general poetry.

Found the Christie's catalog for the sale of the John Quinn Draft Manuscript of the 'Circe' episode in Ulysses. That should go with the Joyce. I don't think I'll keep many other auction catalogs.

I am not having fun with this anymore, but every room is covered in books and I can't stop now. There just isn't enough space on the shelves.

Music and art come next. Music is bigger than I thought and needs to stay in the study. Poetry needs more room. It all needs more room. Gloucester, Latin American literature, Ireland and Irish Lit. China? No idea where that is going yet. Fiction is growing and now seems to have more than fiction in it.

My pet authors have moved to the little shelf near my side of the bed. Mayakovsky, D. H. Lawrence and Jean Rhys. I'm leaving Book Design of the Russian Avan-Garde: Editiong of Mayakovsky, bound with a bit of one of the plates, on the top of the big shelf, along with Russian grammer books. Next step, the gathering of Olson.

Snow White and Rose Red, When the Sun Rose. My own copy of The Lonely Doll, ex. lib. but sturdy in a buckram binding. No Flying in the House. Pierre, a Cautionary Tale in Five Chapters and a Prologue, which Noah likes to read several times before going to bed. Harold y el Lapiz Color Marado. So many Richard Scarry books! Steig with the kid's books, Thurber is not, even though I make a point of reading The Last Flower to the boys sometimes. Antique Golden Books. The Poop Book. (Whodunnit?) Read Aloud Poetry for Children. Best Poetry for Children. My First Book of Poetry. And always, always, always, Lear.

I am getting ready to organize books. Move them around, try to find homes on shelves... I am starting by gathering all of the books for children. They have been spread around the house. Once they are all together there may be some space somewhere that inspires my next move.

We talked about this a bit this weekend. Do all the books go together? Different spots for people you know? Do essays by poets go with poetry or essays? Why does my Gloucester shelf include not just Olson, but Creeley and Williams? Should books of music be in the living room, near the instruments, and musical history in the study?

What have you done with your books?

So here goes...

MARS PARTY!

Tuesday night, at my house in Gloucester. Let me know if you are coming and then I'll see what kind of party it will be. It will start at dusk. I may make food, I mau not, depends on who and how many. Make the trip out to Gloucester, bring your bathing suit, be ready for some lookin' up at the sky.

Friday night storms roll in. I sew the seams of sweaters watching the sky change lights. Just buttons left to put on sweaters for Aiden, 2, and her little brother, Cole, born yesterday. Working with wool is nicer after the warm weather broke.

So this is summer, and it is almost over. Tomorrow will be spent in Allston then Keene, for a big Hill Dinner. Should have talked to Aaron about Keene first. Oh well.

It is good to finish something. I am always setting rules for myself. One I set often is not to start any more projects until I finish the ones I already have going. It never sticks. It takes so long to finish things that the impulse to create is over before they are done.

I like to give things to people. I have someone in mind now that I am gathering little things for, although I probably won't end up giving them to her. A sheet of stickers, a book, a bracelet. I make care packages all the time. I don't always give them. All sorts of wonders inside. When I think about people I do things like that. Silly things. That's why I should always have your address.

We're of to Gerrit's now, to see Rob Norris. Fun fun!

Friday night storms roll in. I sew the seams of sweaters watching the sky change lights. Just buttons left to put on sweaters for Aiden, 2, and her little brother, Cole, born yesterday. Working with wool is nicer after the warm weather broke.

So this is summer, and it is almost over. Tomorrow will be spent in Allston then Keene, for a big Hill Dinner. Should have talked to aaron about Keene first. Oh well.

It is good to finish something. I am always setting rules for myself. One I set often is not to start any more projects until I finish the ones I already have going. It never sticks. It takes so long to finish things that the impulse to create is over before they are done.

I like to gove things to people. I have someone in mind now that I am gathering little things for, although I probably won't end up giving them to her. A sheet of stickers, a book, a bracelet. I make care packages all the time. I don't always give them. All sorts of wonders inside. When I think about people I do things like that. Silly things. That's why I should always have your address.

We're of to Gerrit's now, to see Rob Norris. Fun fun!

It is Friday morning and my car is still at Linsky's. I want to go somewhere, anywhere, but with these two feet it would take a long time. I may still after a bath. I wonder when my car will come home. I sort of need it.

The Book of Forms. Tiny rubber alphabet stamps. Tassle reaction. Baby spoon, s-hook, star wars stickers. Sonic Youth ticket stub. Sailor's stripes. Pumpkin Pez dispenser. Embroidered Greek hand towel. Christmas card receipts modern library 100 best list. Urban Dream Capsule Gnome adoption papers. Poems and Antipoems. Engagement card. Onionskin letter.

Ribbon and candle wicks, matches and butterflies. I sometimes put hardware in my jewelry box. A bowl of erasers shaped like animals, a small square of embroidered silk. Torsten Kehler's address. Paperclip, paperclip, paperclip. Mass Health. Candle snuffer. Picture of Emily.

Am I the only one who thinks life will be more complete with a power drill?

Oh, I am sad to have missed Shin Yu on Sunday! Maybe I should have a Mars party. Would anybody come?

In St. John, bowling means candlepin. No questions asked. A sign near Sackville: Bowling + Beer = Fun. At the diner along the highway a Brando Burger and a shake will get you a free pass to the drive-in.

Sitting on rocks ina river, figuring things out. Frogs crossing paths, trees creaking, berries blue and other. I have things to say to people, but Ican't get them to listen. I have things to ask people but I can't find them. The river makes a perfect place to get this kind of work done. I would have needed a bus to get everyone there. No, it was perfect as it was: too much would be too much. Us. Alone.

Last week was crazy for body and family and friends and lines. Chris, I should have taken a train home after we parted on Wednesday. By Friday I was ready to run away and that's just what we did. Two moose on the road!

James has what we did in lists. Sometimes my list would be different. Not by much, though.

I am in a Hallmark stage.