Reasons to Smile

1. Listening to Son laugh as he reads Garfield comic book (also, when I look over, he's doing some hand motions and mouthing the words to himself)
2. Cuddling with Son (he entwines his fingers with mine so I can't get away)
3. Son trying to get me to fall asleep in his bed by rubbing my forehead and humming
4. Singing lullabies to Son
5. Working on a new story while Son watches movies in the hotel room
6. Taking Son to the ocean
7. Drinking delicious cinnamon coffee at Mexican restaurant
8. No rain!! on the wedding day
9. Finishing the wedding poem
10. Vacation
    

Transitions

Phase changes create difficulty. The shift, for example, from one side of the Atlantic to the other. Not, perhaps, technically a phase change, but a transition nonetheless.
To ease this transition, I offer these suggestions:

1. Regular doses of Pimms (pimms, fruit, mint, ice, carbonated lemonade)
2. Running (the harder the better, more difficult to dwell on ideas, must focus on breathing)
3. Crossfit (see running)
4. Hanging out with friends (add wine, food, music, etc.)
5. Movies (I have yet to do this...but it sounds helpful)
6. Food (in copious amounts)
7. Pool (will it stop raining?)

I am following this regimen.

A few photos

One of the buildings at Kew Gardens.
More Kew.
Me, with "Dr. Watson" at the Sherlock Holmes museum. Yes, it really was that cheesy.

Two photos and some comments

An orchid from Kew Gardens.

London and the Millennium Bridge

I'm glad to be back in Salt Lake. I had a lovely swim today outside. I fought with Son (everything back to normal!). I saw some friends.
Already, I am scheming ways to get back overseas...any help on this front?
Cheers!

I'll be home tomorrow

the most delicious gelato. Ever. Paris.

don't I look European?

they have Jackalope in London?

Before "The Cherry Orchard"

This is me by the Putney Street Bridge in Bath.




This is me at Stonehenge.



I saw this on the architectural walking tour of Bloomsbury.

Pints

This is a pint of Thatcher's Heritage, a cider. I drank this at Earth & Stars in Brighton.
















This is a pint of Deuchar's IPA. I drank this at Albert's near Victoria Station after Evensong at Westminster Abbey. We saw a man in a pinstripe suit with medals on his chest.
After this pint, I had a Greene King IPA.

You know how blogger uploads photos...so here they are, randomly.
This is my "outstanding value" which is a towel I got at Marks and Spencer so that I could shower. Yes, no towels at the hostel. Oh well. Now I have a bath towel and a hand towel and all is right in the universe.






This is the buffalo representing "America" in the Prince Albert Memorial in Hyde Park. You may not be able to see it, but the buffalo is being ridden by a "native American." According to this memorial there are 4 continents. All of them have fascinating animals.








First pub drinks in London (I had a Samuel Smith Old something Bitter). The other girls had cider, which was dry and delicious.












Parliment (blurry...). We saw a protest by Sri Lankans (?) about the recent deaths. It stopped traffic and there were many many police there. An educational experience to be sure.

Cheers!

Greetings from London. At the insistence of Otterbutt and Hightouch, I am blogging.
The trip was uneventful, except for the sporadic sleeping. Yesterday, we walked all over Kensington, found the park ("you know how I love the park!"), found where T.S. Eliot lived and died (accidentally), went to TK Maxx (that's right, not TJ, but TK), found Whole Foods and another store with delicious prepackaged food stuffs. Paid WAY too much for a coffee. Had Indian Food (delicious!).
I have been in London less than 24 hours. Have not yet had a pint, but will today, so don't worry. We're going to do a walk along the Thames to orient ourselves and, if I have my way, a trip to the Tate Modern, which might not be chronological, but will, nonetheless, be lovely.
Cheerio, chaps! I'm off to have my free breakfast or a protein bar.

Because

I am not a religious person. You know that.
You may not know that my grandfather was a Reformed Presbyterian preacher. They don't have accompaniment in church (no organ, piano). But what I most remember about the times I spent with my grandparent are the Psalms they sang. Before meals at camp. At church. Sometimes when I listen to Garrison Keillor I get a bit of what I remember from those days.
Today when I found out that my friend Craig had most likely died, the words of some of those songs came back. I think when we don't know what to say or do, familiar words return to us most strongly.
I thought of this "I lift mine eyes unto the hills."
Maybe they will make you feel better also.

Lon-Don

Yeah, I know I'm lame and about to get lamer. I haven't been posting, because I've been so busy, and now I'm not going to post. At all.
On Saturday I'm leaving for London where I will, no doubt, eat and drink too much and get sick of museums and then, just in time, flee for a weekend in Paris.
Before you know it, I'll be back.
Be good. I promise to bring pictures and trinkets and lovely stories.
I promise to seize the day.
You do so as well.

What to Do

When someone disappears half a world away, what can we do? My friend Craig is missing, and besides sending emails, calling people who can do something, what can I do? I know my anxiety and sadness is not productive, but still...
So please, keep Craig in your thoughts.
Here are some of his poems.

Nostalgia

Hightouch's post has inspired me to write about songs that I love, songs from childhood, songs that bring me to tears, or nearly, songs that I wish I could play on the guitar and sing along, if only alone, in my bedroom.
But before I get to my list, I have to say that I wish I had my father's old Ford pickup (greenish), with its AM radio, buttons that you could actually push in and sometimes they would get stuck in. And this radio played only real country music (not that shitty pop that tries to pass for country now). You know what I mean: Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams.
Okay, so here's my list.

1. Charlie Rich "The Most Beautiful Girl": This is the first 45 I ever bought. I must have been 5 or 6. I loved Charlie Rich.
   
2. "Tennessee Waltz": I think the version we had was by Andy Williams. I can't verify that. But here's a great version by Patsy Cline.
3. Kris Kristofferson, "Me and Bobby McGee": This is the only version I knew until I was in my 20s. Seriously. "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." This the way I remember him. He wrote this song. He's my hero.
4. Willie Nelson, "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys"
5. John Denver, "Rocky Mountain High" (Also his "Eclipse" is one of my favorites)
   
6. John Prine, "Paradise"
7. Bonnie Raitt and John Prine, "Angel from Montgomery"
8. Johnny Cash, "Hurt"

I'm sure there are others, but I have miles to go before I sleep. Miles!

Spring Snow Run

Though I saw blue sky this morning, and see blue sky now, in between there were clouds, a haircut, and a run in the rain/freezing rain/snow. I chose the least optimal time, but there you have it. Sometimes you just have to go for a run because you can. Sylvia and I took her dog Reno and went for it. We were barely out the door when it started raining. Then later it became freezing rain/snow. But if you are already out in it, you just have to buck up and keep running. It was fine. Really.
But it just reminded me that sometimes it's just getting your ass out the door. Once you're out, it really doesn't matter. Sun, rain, snow. You're running. Just keep running.
I'm looking forward to sitting in the hot pools tomorrow and eating Thai food and watching cable.
Did I mention I made myself a delicious breakfast? It was a spinach-Greek scramble. And it was so good. I recommend it (1 whole egg + 2 egg whites, spinach, half a tomato, some orange pepper, reduced fat feta). I also ate a WW english muffin.
Hey, I'm going to England. Do you think I can get an English muffin there? Let's hope.
That's all I have to report. I had a lovely day at home. I drank sufficient amounts of coffee. I took Gus to the dog park. All around, a banner day.

Eve Sedgwick

A touching obituary here.
I realize that I've entered that time in my life when influential thinkers, writers, artists begin to die. I enjoyed reading her theoretical and critical writing. I feel I should return to her essay about Our Mutual Friend or at least Austen.
Good stuff.

On Being Overtaxed: Literally

I've over committed myself lately. Saying I would do a book review (done!) of a book I hadn't read (but now have, obviously). Doing multiple proposals for various things (not done). Taxes (done!) after which we owed more than I can mentally deal with but we paid it, so it's over. Thinking about and planning the overseas trip, which also means emailing with students, and meeting with them. Conferencing with students (why??). Reading "Hamlet."
Some of it is wonderful and delightful: reading How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read for my book club. While the title sounds light and parodic, it turns out to be a really entertaining read, as well as good lit crit.
This weekend we are going to Idaho, so that should be lovely.
Okay, so now I said I would make turkey fricassee from the leftovers from Sunday's turkey. And I need to go to yoga, because my hips hurt, my neck hurts, oh, etc.
So off I go, to make some kind of concoction.
I also need to see a movie. Don't I?

In Which I Quits The Idol

I just can't summon up the energy to care about American Idol anymore. I know. You're asking yourself, how can this be? Even Simon irritates me. Adam may be the most overrated contestant since Danny Gokey since David Archuleta.
This is one of those times when only the word blurgh will do.
My prediction: Adam will win in the biggest yawnfest since Taylor and Katherine. Who should win? Probably Allison. I do still love Matt, and I do like Kris, but I can't sit through the rest of the insufferable performances, critiques, discussions and faux fighting between Simon and Paula just to get to one good performance.
Oh, how I long for the days of David Cook, Daughtry, anyone, really, but the jokers we are now being subject to. Something tells me I'm not the only one who has given up, is giving up, will give up.
Suck it, Idol!

Drinking

Middlebrow turned me on to this post, and this blog in general, over at the NY Times. It's about drinking, though at least one contributor is a recovering alcoholic. What kills me is the people who leave comments about how the blog is contributing to alcoholism, or about all the negative things that drinking brings into people's lives. Why are they reading a blog about drinking in the first place?
But this particular post took me back to the good ole days in Bellingham, where I once ran into a friend on campus. She was done with school, I was just a post-Bac, taking classes and working, still figuring out what the hell I was doing with my life. We headed down to the 3-B tavern, got a pitcher, slid into a booth and proceeded to kill the rest of the afternoon and probably most of the evening without moving, except to get more pitchers. The great thing about the 'ham, a college town of the best sort, is that, as we sat there, the bar filled with our friends, who would join us for a round and then drift off, only to be replaced by more friends.
Once, I left a greeting on my answering machine that began, "I've become one of those women who drinks alone, who sits at the bar and has just one, while the bar fills..." It was during a phase of my life when I left poems instead of traditional greetings. Once I got a message that just said, "Cool." I don't even know who that was. But once, a guy with the same name as Middlebrow (not an uncommon name), called me and heard that message. I wasn't home, obviously, so he just went down to the 3B and there I was. Of course!
Now that I'm past 40, with a real job and a kid, there are no opportunities for afternoon drinking or, at least, they are significantly different. Now, we have drinks in the front yard while Son rides his bike up and down the sidewalk. Now, we make vodka tonics and drink in the front yard with the neighbors, while the kids entertain themselves. We stop drinking at 9 or 10, or at least move it inside. We drink while we watch TV or movies. While we grade student papers. We try to mute the pain of inferior prose with beer and wine.
But we don't get to go into a dark bar on a perfectly fine afternoon for no other reason than we want to have beer, lots of it, and just talk, hang out, people watch, discuss, interact with each other. Afternoon drinking, long hours dedicated to nothing but beer and conversation, is a thing of the past.
I look back on those afternoons with nostalgia.

Nicholas Hughes

This is a touching column about the legacy of suicide, of Plath and Sexton. I taught both these poets recently, and it's hard to get away from talking about their deaths as a way into their poetry. But it's also hard to ignore, as a mother, their impact on their children.

Posting

I'll probably be posting more over at Poem A Day this month, so don't think I'm neglecting you. I will sometimes post other funny things here, like a link to this short essay that I find familiar and lovely.

And speaking of drinking, I'm contemplating my choices for this evening. Beer? Wine? Oh, what shall it be?