Daybook: Monday, December 28th, 2009

From Peggy at Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Outside my window… the wind is howling around the corners of my building. The snow from last night has returned and dances down to the ground in swirling flakes.
I am thinking… about my family (still visiting but leaving tomorrow), the start of a new semester in a week, and babies.

 
I am thankful for… dinner last night. R and I went for a cozy, warm Sunday night dinner at our parish priest’s house. He and his family live in a renovated Victorian house in a historic district nearby. The conversation was great, the candles elegant, the shining mahogany enviable.
I am wearing… jeans. Since I don’t have to teach today, it’s casual day!  
I am remembering… an old friend living overseas, with whom I’ve not been able to get in touch. Blessings to you, dear one.
I am going… to be extremely careful driving home. Almost slid into oncoming traffic today, as the roads are covered with ice.
I am currently reading… Salman Rushdie’s latest, The Temptress of Venice. So far, horribly cheesy histrionic revisionism. But I’d pay just to watch Rushdie’s paint dry, so I’ll give this one a fighting chance.
I am hoping… for a new baby. Wednesday Ob/Gyn appointment!
On my mind… problem students. Syllabi. Textbooks. I KNOW- and it’s not even January!
Noticing that… I am a better person and friend when I choose my words carefully, and use few. See below:

 
Pondering these words…

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means. 

(Billy Collins, Introduction to Poetry).

From the kitchen… came, this morning, the mournful sound of the coffeemaker, sputtering into disgruntled action.
Around the house… is the detrius of Christmas past. I don’t think I’ll ever get the house clean.
One of my favorite things… warmth.

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13 Responses to Daybook: Monday, December 28th, 2009

  1. opoetoo says:

    nice post. i really liked the Billy Collins, will have to get into it.

    hope everything goes well Wed. ( i am a stranger but i do mean it)

    thanks

  2. Evenshine says:

    Thanks for visiting, opoetoo. Collins was the poet laureate of the US a while back. I like his casual, wry style. He has one about the Victoria’s Secret catalog that makes me laugh so hard I cry.

    And thanks for the good wishes!

  3. Pam says:

    I hope you get that new baby too. I am wondering if God has any more for me.

  4. Samantha says:

    I have always perused the Salman Rushdie books, but never actually gotten around to reading one. I’ll have to pick one up.

    Best of luck with the appointments!

  5. Kathy says:

    Hi Evenshine, and thanks so much for stopping by my Daybook!

    Loved your Billy Collins words – made me laugh and laugh – especially when I remembered homeschooling my son thru poetry 😉

    Have a wonderful week, Kathy

  6. Evenshine,

    I NEED that Victoria’s Secret poem! Awesome!

    Thanks for thinking of me…we’re hanging fire over here. Among the detritus that is hanging around from our Christmas, too.

  7. Hope your baby wishes come true…

  8. faemom says:

    It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one wondering if the house will ever be clean again. I’m thinking not.

  9. evenshine says:

    Fae- I know, right? Wishing for a hoom-ba, for the whole house. Which would also spot-treat my laundry. And bathe my kids.

  10. evenshine says:

    same back atcha, les.

  11. evenshine says:

    TKW- the VS poem is online. Makes me chortle every.time. Best wishes.

  12. incognitomom says:

    Good luck on the baby front. I wish someone had reminded some of my English teachers of Billy Collins’ words. Nothing like wanting to enjoy the works of an author and being made to analyze them until hate sets in. I tend to think this is why so many students rank English classes as their least favorite. Truly sad because often times there is nothing more beautiful than the written word.

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