Sewing all day with only Toby for company this week has made me lose my focus: I’m having a hard time typing accurately; I didn’t give yesterday’s Project Roundup a clever title; and I let my cell phone sit in my car and die, thus panicking my parents, who thought I had suffered the same fate.
Fortunately, I am not dead and now I have an excuse to put up a poem about parenting. The Writers Almanac had this Ellen Bass piece up in the last week or so and it really resonated with me, even though I’m still just a cat parent. (I guess worry is a universal emotion.)
After Our Daughter’s Wedding
While the remnants of cake
and half-empty champagne glasses
lay on the lawn like sunbathers lingering
in the slanting light, we left the house guests
and drove to Antonelli’s pond.
On a log by the bank I sat in my flowered dress and cried.
A lone fisherman drifted by, casting his ribbon of light.
“Do you feel like you’ve given her away?” you asked.
But no, it was that she made it
to here, that she didn’t
drown in a well or die
of pneumonia or take the pills.
She wasn’t crushed
under the mammoth wheels of a semi
on highway 17, wasn’t found
lying in the alley
that night after rehearsal
when I got the time wrong.
It’s animal. The egg
not eaten by a weasel. Turtles
crossing the beach, exposed
in the moonlight. And we
have so few to start with.
And that long gestation—
like carrying your soul out in front of you.
All those years of feeding
and watching. The vulnerable hollow
at the back of the neck. Never knowing
what could pick them off—a seagull
swooping down for a clam.
Our most basic imperative:
for them to survive.
And there’s never been a moment
we could count on it.
I haven’t mentioned yet that I have this week off, which means this pile of materials will probably be at least half finished by this time next week: The floral in the middle is the stuff from Japan, obviously not stuck in customs. And see that yarn? I couldn’t decide which blue to order for the pullover sweater, so I changed projects completely. Now I will have a nice neutral cardigan that matches what I’ll make out of the fabric.
You’ve all seen this. 1.5 million people on YouTube have seen it. But I think we all need to see it again on Monday:
1. My Japanese fabric is in customs in San Fransisco. I hope it’s not stuck.
2.I’ve been fresh out of political outrage (burned out, rather) and haven’t been paying much attention to the economy or the bailouts or the First Puppy. But I read a post that changed my mind about whether we should give automakers any part of that huge aid package: I thought those greedy fat cats could wither and die but this made me realize that there are people behind the fat cats, and abandoned machine shops, and that it all ties in with my own ethos of “create something.” So here: Don’t let them die. (It’s long, but good. There are pictures, too!)
3. Mr. Isbell announced this morning, “If Toby did work for free, it would be Tobono.”
This is a subject that has been on my mind the last month or two. I’ve been spending the second paychecks with abandon (not the point of a second job, really, but I did need shoes and jeans, and knee socks and fabric are ALMOST essential). Emily Dickinson understands, though:
The morns are meeker than they were—
The nuts are getting brown—
The berry’s cheek is plumper—
The Rose is out of town.
The Maple wears a gayer scarf—
The field a scarlet gown—
Lest I should be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.
(I found that poem on this blog, which is one of my new favorites. Be sure to check out the “imaginary outfit” category, in which she imagines what she’d wear if she were a children’s book author, or rode a Vespa, or was a physicist. Fun…but it makes me want to buy more things.)
1. A new space heater arriving for Toby. (We’ve been borrowing Minas Heatas from my parents.) The new one isn’t tower-shaped, though, so it will need a different Lord of the Rings name. Helm’s Heat, maybe?
2. The start of Christmas gift knitting. Will I finish at 11:00 on Christmas Eve, like last year? We’ll see!
3. Fabric coming from Japan. I splurged just a little (mostly on shipping, obviously), had to figure out meters needed instead of yards, and convert yen to dollars–but the fabric is awesome and I can track the package online. It left Kyoto prefecture and arrived in Osaka prefecture sometime yesterday, although the whole time difference is stumping me this morning.
1. “Chicken tractor” is the best word combination I’ve heard all week, but it’s an actual item, too: A floorless, moveable chicken coop so your chickens can scratch and eat bugs in whatever part of your garden needs cultivation. There’s a gallery online, which included this literal interpretation:
2. From BoingBoing: The Internet Anagram Server + “Quantum of Solace,” the latest James Bond movie opening today = 18,258 possible titles, including:
- A Quantum Of Close
- Futons Equal Coma
- Scam Unequal Foot
- Aqua Focus Melt On