Potatoes

Hi, Mom.

I read a poem the other day and thought of you. It's from a book called Love Poems from God (which was given to me by the wonderful HWP). It's by Rabia of Basra who was an 8th century female Islamic saint. You can read about her here.

Here's the poem.

SLICING POTATOES

It helps,
putting my hands on a pot, on a broom,
in a wash
pail

I
tried painting,
but it was easier to fly slicing
potatoes

love you

 

A wedding, a Poem and Lots of Television Talk: Monday Six

Pretty new fall theme, right? Wait till you see the treat I have lined up for you for the holiday season on December 1st.

1. Jess & Matty Got Married! And there are pictures here! ToniK and I brought the "class" to the wedding. By which I mean to say that Jess is probably the only bride in the world who has pictures, taken by her hired wedding photographer, of her at her wedding reception in her lovely gown getting freaked by ToniK and I. I like to think that we were invited specifically to bring that type of behavior.




But here's the best story. So of course, I have no wedding ring so I am dragged to the dance floor for the bouquet toss. And so Jess tosses the flowers. And literally, it's like one of those moments that happen in slow motion. The bouquet launches into the air and directly towards me. And in my head, as this happens, in slow motion, I can only think, "No, no, no, no!" And I stand there and watch it as it goes "thud" on the ground below me.

And then, before I can control myself, my natural instinct kicks in and I TURN AND RUN IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION FROM THE FLOWERS AS THOUGH THEY WERE AN ACTUAL MAN.


That's the very nice woman who picked up the bouquet and kept it.

You only think I'm making this up. Sadly, I'm not. SMOS maybe should last a little bit longer.

These, by the way, are my favorite two pictures from the wedding:

*Before Marriage*

*After Marriage*


2. Setting a Good Example: This is an actual text exchange that happened this weekend:

C-Woo
I was scrapbooking this morning, and Baby C-Woo saw a picture of you and said, "That's the fairy woman!"

Me
Ah! That just made my morning.
C

C-Woo
It should be noted that it was one of the infamous "ass up in a club" shots.

I mean, there's a lot to be concerned about there, but I'd like to focus on wondering what picture of me going ass up in a club is a logical fit for scrapbooking? I mean, really.

3. Best.Thing.Ever: My mom sent my annual box of fall leaves that she picked out of our back yard. I love my mom.

4. And also: I updated The Nature of Sand. Listen, I know that this blog won't look like I'm on any kind of spiritual quest for the next two months because, well, there's a wedding or a holiday party or a vague excuse to have a holiday party every.single.weekend. That doesn't mean it's not going on, though. That is all.

5. Television Talk! I'm talking about Northern Exposure over on The Nature of Sand. I'm watching season three right now (which either shamus? or halff got me for Christmas last year), which I think is probably the best season. I forget what season it is when that show jumps the shark. It's whatever season it was when Anthony Edwards was on the show playing a boy in a bubble that Janine Turner was dating. But while in season one and season two the show is about the story, in season three the show becomes really metaphysical. Stories about mortality, and words. One of my favorite episodes of all time was the one that I watched on Friday where Marilyn falls in love with a man from the circus who doesn't speak, while Holling and Shelli get into a fight because he "says the wrong thing." And it's a really beautifully done study of how sometimes words get in the way of true emotion. That show was good. In season three, that show was particularly good.

And then, also on Friday night (because I am so old that because I had to do double party detail on Saturday I stayed in to save up energy on Friday), I watched Rock of Love. How did nobody tell me how good that was? I mean, it's certainly no I Love New York, but those chicks are CRAZY. The eighties hair. Brett Michaels new, puffy botox face. The slutty stripper dresses. Catch the marathon. It's worth it.

6. Bonus! A poetry meditation! Hil sent this to me this week "in case things were still hectic", which they for sure are. I meditated on it yesterday and will in the mornings as well. You should, too.

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

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 announding your place
in the family of things.