you will notice that once in a while a pygmy goat will show up.

A Very Classy Christmas to All...

ent sounds

i got up to go the airport at 4:15 this morning and it was 4 degrees fahrenheit.
with every breath, any moisture on the way toward my lungs froze for a moment.
i love how in this kind of cold the snow doesn't melt and it retains that delicious crunchy frictiony sound--when i am parking my car it reminds me of Ents, which is always a good thing. like ice breaking and moving down the Hudson.

right now:

it is snowy, windy and very cold (currently 16F not counting the wind chill)
a robot made my hot cocoa a few minutes ago
it is hot and dry in this building
i have a bag of smart food on my desk
if i went and stood on the mass ave bridge facing east, within seconds i would not be able to move my facial muscles very well, and i would be looking at whitecaps on a dark gray-blue river that appears to be flowing backwards toward the continental divide. but don't worry, it's not.
i am looking forward to this evening and to seeing my family this weekend
i am thinking about baking cookies when i get home
i would like to have a snow day

look at this!

big fuschia

big fuschia is a cardigan (i think). here is a picture of her first sleeve:



she kind of looks like the devil with an iPod in this shot. i am both excited by and frightened of big fuschia, in part because she has no pattern and i have never knitted anything except scarves and hats. whenever i show her sleeve to people they say "that's a big sleeve" and i say "yes, it is"

this is not the last you will hear of big fuschia. and once she's done, she may no longer answer to that name.

happy 100th aunt sirarpi!

Today is my great-great aunt Sirarpi's 100th birthday. Aunt Sir is one of the most vivacious people I know. She still writes, cooks amazing food and paints, and she recently testified in front of the Maryland State and U.S. Senate about the Armenian Genocide. She has a great attitude about life. Here's a little something she wrote when she was 92 that I find inspiring:


I hope my life will be an inspiration to the new generation--systematic 15-minute calisthenics and 3-mile walks every day, rain or shine.

After college and 2 years of medical school, I continued my education by reading books, newspapers, and interest in current events. As I got older, instead of stagnating with people my own age I spent time with younger people. I kept myself mentally young by helping and getting involved with their lives.

After raising three children, I began working at age 54. I took pride in my appearance and looked 20 years younger because I never smoked or drank alcohol. At age 85, I retired.

Seven years ago, my husband passed away. I was totally lost. I felt sick and despondent and wanted to die. My granddaughter encouraged me to write my life history. I wrote 500 pages and gave copies to my children and grandchildren.

Today, I am 92 years old. I still walk 3 miles a day. I have joined church groups, and I read and lecture. I take pleasure in group vacations, and instead of wanting to die, I have learned to give.

pearls melt in vinegar

layman:
oooooh! um, is that really true?

chemist:
yes, vinegar reacts with pearls, according to :
CaCO3 + 2HAc -> Ca(Ac)2 + C02 + H20
How fast this happens depends on a number of factors like concentration of acid, surface exposed to reaction, temperature, agitation, etc. I believe that the term MELT was employed in a common sense for a layman.


yes, a layman. a romantic, poetic, visceral image-loving layman.

oh, feelin yucky

gotta keep an eye on my valuables, i'm on the cold meds again. my wallet is locked up as I speak.
gonna drink me some tea and sleep me some zs.

when i was a waitress

When I was a 20 year old waitress, after my day shifts ended I used to go to this huge hill to watch the sun set through the forest. I would get there just when all the geese were gathering at the bottom of the hill. When I arrived, they would be eating, and as the sun sank lower and lower, they slowly moved up the hill, still eating. Within minutes I was completely surrounded by them and the dulled tearing sound of a hundred rounded beaks pecking at the earth. When the first layer of geese reached the top of the hill, one or two would start calling. A few would assemble amidst their dining peers, and the few would take off into the sunset, wings beating close to the top of my head. They continued in this way for about 25 minutes, until all the geese had taken wing and I was alone in the autumnal Pennsylvania twilight.



Wild Geese 

You do not have to be good. 
You do not have to walk on your knees 
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. 
You only have to let the soft animal of your body 
love what it loves. 
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. 
Meanwhile the world goes on. 
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain 
are moving across the landscapes, 
over the prairies and the deep trees, 
the mountains and the rivers. 
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, 
are heading home again. 
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 
the world offers itself to your imagination, 
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place 
in the family of things.


© Mary Oliver