To do this weekend:

make homemade salsa and homemade rolls. Don't eat together, but make sure they're both as tasty as I hope. If they are, begin selling to my awaiting public.

finish reading one of my books.

finish making an elephant, and make a pig and a whale.

watch the Wolverine movie.

try to understand why I sort of liked a Pussycat Dolls song on my drive to work this morning!

throw a party in Brigham City.

eat a smoothie at lunch with a friend.

craft a necklace.

clean my house, and actually get to all of it.

work on getting a chapter finished for my latest writing effort.

go to Costco, get some strawberries for jam, print some London pictures.

make jam. Maybe serve with aforementioned rolls.

pick frames for London pictures, hang in house, smile.

design some logos.

continue to be aggravatingly persistent in trying to learn how the heck to absorb the world of programming and create a website.

go on a hike. Or, if it's just too rainy, go to the sporting goods store, dream, and laugh at your pathetic attempts to learn how to swing a golf club. Charm everyone around you. If option two, go to the gym, too.

go to concert. Revel.

go to church.

enjoy a delicious potluck dinner.

buy tickets to California.

ummm... there were a few other things, but I can't quite remember.

Maudlin Pix: Even when I'm sad, I'm pretty.

Who am I to resist a trend? (Maybe the better question is: Who am I to deny inspiration?) I present to you: MAUDLIN PIX!





And the not-at-all-maudlin, but-I-made-it-myself, so-I must-show-it-off-to-the-internet (pardon my unabashed quest for validation) whale:

Translating.

Today I'm translating from Swedish to English. My favorite direct translation:

"We do the possible."

I realize that this should probably be a tweet instead of a blog entry. Oh well.

People are beautiful.

Last week.
Last year.
Unrelated to the last two clips, but two people that I love dearly for different reasons.
Watch and fall in love with people with me.

Blogs are like haiku

Blogs are like haiku:
A mere blossom blooming on
a burgeoning tree.

Another reason to love the iPhone.

Everyone knows the iPhone is just pretty. I mean, that's what Apple does. But has anyone ever noticed that the way people hold it because of the way it's balanced and used is pretty, too? The aesthetics of Apple always astound me.

Petit Chaperon Rouge

[Note: This video, by Tomas Nilsson, is most awesome with sound.]

The eensy, weensy spider

Dear eensy, weensy spider:

You are scary. I know that you're just eensy. But you're scary. You pack a punch of scariness, despite your size.

Or so I thought.

Until I saw EXTRA scary spider chasing after you. I think extra scary spider is extra scary for BOTH of us. But I still don't really feel like I've bonded with you.

I sincerely wish that you had stayed outside. Not just because you're scary. But because you brought extra with you. And that? Means I have to kill you both.

I'm building up my courage. Really. I'm semi-sorry I have to do it, eensy. And sadly, you're going to have to go first. Honestly? Because extra's going to take a bit more time to get courage to kill.

Best wishes,

E

P.S. I hear heaven's pretty awesome. But I don't personally stay in contact with anyone that's been there. So you'll just have to take my word for it.

Welcome, welcome.

I'm so excited about this:

I might love Billy Collins.

I have loved the first poem for a long, long time. I'm torn between explaining my love and just letting each poem stand for itself. I've chosen the latter, but would love to hear what you think.

Today

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.


Litany

You are the bread and the knife,

The crystal goblet and the wine...

-Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

Also see: Marginalia
And this: I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey's Version Of "Three Blind Mice"
This, too: The Art of Drowning

It's hard to stop, but I will now; as I said, it might be love.