Sunday, December 26, 2010

yay it's christmas yay it's over

Not that we do much about it on a personal basis, but at least I won't be hearing Alvin and the Chipmunks for another year,  and all the pre Christmas sales  have turned into post Christmas sales,  and my latent guilt at not sending cards or buying gifts can go back in the carton with the tree we didnt put up this year.

I know, I know, bah humbug. Go, Scrooge.

Now we can settle back into the process of getting in and out of winter in time for spring.  Some years it's a close call.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Solstice Poem



At any time of the year
you measure the dimensions of the sky
one constellation at a time
give it perspective in terms
that you can understand

but at this darkest point
the nadir of the calendar
stars become much more
than pinpoints on a chart
sometimes it's all you have to steer by
and you begin to weary of the darkness
there is so much of it

Having lost the light
you announce yourself with candles
in every window
drape strings of icicles
from eave to eave
calling softly into the winter sky
over here over here

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

memories that never quiiiite fade

Everyone has from time to time been visited by the ghost of  a particular song, the kind of thing that drifts into your mind but seemingly never drifts away, just lingers behind a potted fern for the appropriate moment.  You are sorting socks and realize you're humming Yankee Doodle Dandy, and have been doing so since breakfast.  Yikes. Or riding to work, the strains of OOOOOKlahoma...suddenly careen around the corner of your mind,  and you know you'll be mentally singing "OOOOOklahoma where the winds blow heavy da da da" for the next eight hours.

It may be "London Bridge," or the Hallelujah Chorus, the entire "Memories", or "Old Man River" (even worse, Stan Freberg's version, "Elderly Man River") anything that plants itself squarely in your brain and sticks, wearing an ever deeper groove in the record up there. 

My own bete noir is  the Oscar Meyer Weiner song, with alternate endings, and on really bad days, Eddie Fisher singing "Oh My Papa".  Feel free to borrow either of these  if you feel the need for different material. 

Hope this  helps.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Earth cycles, 1, Global Warming 0

This morning at 5:am the thermometer read -1.  In Britain they are experiencing the coldest winter in 100 years.  Europe is digging out its long johns and wondering where they put the snow plows. 

Last year during the much-touted Global Warming conference in Denmark there was a blizzard.  Probably directly over the conference center.  This year the Global Warming folks are in Cancun and if I lived there, I'd bring in my pets and buy some warmer clothing.  It seems, somehow, that every time they decide to meet (and very expensive meetings these are, indeed) to 'discuss' global warming",  the thermometers plunge, and the conference tables turn to blocks of ice.   Perhaps if they turned all that money into actually doing something instead of actively discussing doing something,  I'd be a bit less cynical about the whole deal. 

Time to feed the stoves.  It's turning into a 3 stove day, for sure. 

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Any forward motion helps at this point

In two weeks the days will begin to grow longer.  The one thing at this stage that gets me through the drama and drek of January, February, and ice storms, is knowing this.  Minute by minute, the day grows brighter sooner. 

Sunday, December 5, 2010

A bit of nostalgia for what is now 'the good old days"

Something has gone out of message boards, as a general rule, and I miss it. There is no longer that free-wheeling sense of creativity there once was, bounded only by your imagination and what the board itself would tolerate. 

I cannot fathom any board out there now allowing the freedom to "spin" that we once had at places like Excite, or the old Speakeasy, Fresh Press, or even Multiverse  in all its strange incarnations. 

There are message boards, to be sure,  but they are specific; writing, talking about writing,  tractors, skate boarding, politics, etc etc.  The freedom to get down and stream-of-conciousness creative seems to have disappeared.  That may be why I have such a difficult time sticking with any one board, these days,   there's simply no room to haul in the bean bag chairs and the new bar stools. 

Thursday, December 2, 2010


Brought to you by the good folks who last year on their church marquee proclaimed, "BLESS GOD, AMERICA"--this year they ask us,  "IF GOD CARRIED A WALLET, WOULD YOUR PICTURE BE IN IT?"
It is hard to imagine the mind that could imagine God carrying a wallet in the first place. Strange questions arise. 

Does he have credit cards?
How much cash would God carry?
What about a driver's license?