A conversation....

One Sunday nobody was at home but me and my nanny, so we had a tea party with soda and my mom's antique tea cups. I recorded us talking so I would never forget it. Today I found the cassette tape that had our conversation on it.


Me: Tell me a story.
Nanny: Tell you a story?
Me: Yeah, tell me a story.
Nanny: Once upon a time, there was a little girl. And her name was.....
Me: TRACIE!
Nanny: huh?
Me: her name was Tracie!
Nanny: Huh. And she didn't have very much money. And she went out and.....uh.. she went out and bought a little thing like this [my tape recorder] that you could hear the radio on. And I used to play it. And..... that's about all I remember.
Me: What was her favorite song?
Nanny: Uh.....
Me: What was your favorite song?
Nanny: Uh... let's see. What was my favorite?
Me: Yeah. What's your favorite song now?
Nanny: Let's see.... what was her favorite? I don't know that she had one!
Me: But what was your favorite song?
Nanny: What was my favorite?
Me: Yeah, yours!
Nanny: Darlin', oh my darlin', clementine... I guess that's the only thing I can think of.
[Laughter]
Me: Tell me another story!
Nanny: You mean! You want another one after that one?
Me: Yeah.
Nanny: Golly Ned. That's... glutton for punishment.
[Laughter]
Well.... (pointing at the tape recorder) automatic stop. I'm glad that's automatic.
Me (while laughing): I love you, Nanny.
Nanny: I love you too.

♥

What makes me think of you: books, Lyndon B. Johnson, the future, religion, chinese food, blue cars, Ohio and Indiana and sometimes Arkansas, love letters, basketball, Bradley Hathaway, the extra room in my bed, milkshakes, songs about love, cake and pie, history, cream puffs, waterfalls, passion, reason, happiness, Bob Dylan, the future, It's a Wonderful Life, hand-holding, Ron Swanson, craisins, red balloons, book stores, bus stations, Ramen noodles, christmas, being tucked in, penguins, kitchen floors, Toy Story, peaches, Kurt Vonnegut, love in general, Only Skin, belly aches, smiling, the future, laundry, airplanes, my creek, philosophy, staying up all night, hip hop, black friday, goodwill, apple cider, the Beatles, ice cream, basements, Woody Allen, Chickfila, summer, spring, winter, fall, waking up, and the future.

♥

Early Morning Portraits of a Wintry Kitchen

A collection of haiku poems


I.

As blood fills all limbs

After a night of sleeping,

The sun, too, wakes up.



A morning with air

As damp as cold bath water

Spills about the day.



Eighty-two sixteen

Rutherford Street sits next to

The used mattress store.



The tiny white house

Has pear trees and an old dog

Making sure it’s safe.



II.

Smoke surrounds the red

Chair, yellow table, and fridge.

It hides the kitchen.



The kind grey haired man

Has an old heart that likes to

Swallow people whole.



His wife, a joyous,

Plump, robe-wearing soul, has just

Misplaced her false teeth.



Newspaper headlines,

A little cup, and warm food

Appear as smoke fades.



III.

Drenched in cold sunshine,

He devours his eggs, and

She drinks her coffee.



Both crispy and bright,

Happiness, it seems, has found

Its way to their home.

When was writing ever your profession? It’s never been anything but your religion. Never. I’m a little over-excited now. Since it is your religion, do you know what you will be asked when you die? But let me tell you first what you won’t be asked. You won’t be asked if you were working on a wonderful, moving piece of writing when you died. You won’t be asked if it was long or short, sad or funny, published or unpublished. You won’t be asked if you were in good or bad form while you were working on it. You won’t even be asked if it was the one piece of writing you would have been working on if you had known your time would be up when it was finished…I’m so sure you’ll get asked only two questions. Were most of your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out? If only you knew how easy it would be for you to say yes to both questions. If only you’d remember before ever you sit down to write that you’ve been a reader long before you were ever a writer. You simply fix that fact in your mind, then sit very still and ask yourself, as a reader, what piece of writing in all the world Buddy Glass would most want to read if he had his heart’s choice. The next step is terrible, but so simple I can hardly believe it as I write it. You just sit down shamelessly and write the thing yourself. I won’t even underline that. It’s too important to be underlined. Oh, dare to do it, Buddy! Trust your heart.

From Seymour: An Introduction

About my cats: Part One

For their papa who wishes he knew them better!

Mary Marie Martin
Mary is the prettiest little lady I've ever seen. She always tip-toes across the floors of my house as if she were walking on kitten-sized heels. Sometimes she will sit in my lap, but I am never ever allowed to pick her up. If I try to hold her, she smiles and politely (but assertively) makes her opinion on the matter known by finding her way back onto the floor. She's lovely and graceful and noncommittal and happy. Her favorite toy is a tiny red and green Christmas mouse that has catnip inside of it. Her face always looks curious and excited, and she is almost always sneaking into the refrigerator when someone opens the door. Also, she is the kitty who first decided that climbing to the tops of Christmas trees is a worthwhile art for kittens to master.
One of my favorite things about Mary is that she will eat anything. Roast beef I drop on the floor, fat free yogurt, pancakes, lady bugs, anything. Her appetite knows no boundaries; she is not a picky eater, and I love that.