Saturday, June 16, 2007

some things i love...

peony - oh how i love you! the unfolding, the centering, the labyrinth of petals.

farmer's market trip today, i went up there later than usual today. i was smooshing paint around in the studio - and skypeing charles of charles lifestyle knitting - such a generous guy -- sending me links to all these great knitting sites. all of a sudden i realized it was 12:30! i rushed out of the studio, pulled my hair out of it's ponytail, ran water through it to get rid of the ponytail bump, replaced the 'studio pants' - too similar to my 'messy paper' to wear out in public. in addition to the treats photographed (& the tofu puffs) i picked up a big pile of nectarines. my favorite bags of salad were sold out (they put little flowers on top - so sweet).

the strawberries came in this little white cardboard container (beneath the peonies). i cleaned and removed the stems of only half of them so far. nibbled on them before eating my new *favorite* lunch treat - kung pao tofu from hodo soy beanery. if you live in the bay area (or are traveling here) and if you love a spicy meal, give this a try. so, so, SO good! we also really love their tofu puffs dipped in a bit of peanut sauce.

thank you mom! i just heard this again on cast on (though i heard it read elsewhere and liked that reading better - the curse of listening to *so* many podcasts is that i cannot remember where i heard it before).

"The Lanyard" Billy Collins
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the pale blue walls of this room,
bouncing from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past --
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift--not the archaic truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

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