And just in case you think writing was one of those things that fell by the wayside...

Afternoon Tea

I have spent too long

in a world of coffee mugs;

I am ready to return

to teacups:

delicate china teacups,

light as whispers,

fragile as our secret dreams;

cups filled with music,

the song of silver spoons.

Coffee mugs swagger

and speak in boastful tones

of deals made and checklists scored,

of long dark nights

of cigarettes and crumpled papers.

Give me instead

a vellum sheet of poetry,

a thimble of sherry,

a tiered plate of artful sandwiches

and

a perfect strawberry,

clothed in chocolate,

a cup of amber tea.

Learn to love the process...maybe.

And here it is: August! Somehow the summer has drifted away, along with all my good intentions. The poetry book is still unfinished, the third floor is still the same old mess, as is the storage facility, and my closets and dressers and cabinets. I think my problem is that I like the CONCEPT of organization, but not the process. If only organization depended only on having all the required tools!

And so, despite my instinctive aversion to (and general disregard for) To Do lists (I DO make them, but usually when I'm on the verge of melt-down and need to really see where I stand vis-a-vis deadlines) the time has come to draw a line in the sand (or dust, if we're talking about my house) and decide what really has to be accomplished.

Automate the watering system in the garden.

Plant the planters that flank the door.

Figure out a storage solution for the patio.

Finish the damned poetry book and send it off for publication.

Get rid of the tons of clothes, books, paper, junk that inhabits all the nooks and crannies of this house.

Streamline the kitchen.

Find chairs for the TV room.

Clear storage area of all the stuff we will never use. Or the girls will never claim.

Get rid of the upstairs PC and get the network printer attached to the network.

Take the classes on the Mac that I've been meaning to take since December.

There. That should keep me busy for the next millenium. :)

E-Mail

This poem on my screen

is defined by the flipping of electrons,

is coded into the speech of atoms:

a different music from that I seek, 

but beautiful, nonetheless.

There is an elegance in the dance of atoms,

but it requires an attentive ear

to hear equations singing;

an eye attuned to patterns

of unseen and barely-imagined

mysteries.

Surely it must be a kind of magic

(or even poetry)

that finds my signal

(the electrons of my message)

amidst the noise and chaos of this universe

and sends it straight to you.

Home again...and way behind the proverbial eight-ball.

It's been a busy summer. No sooner did I recover from Poetry Month in April than I was thrown (along with my sister and brother) into the maelstrom of getting things ready for my mom's move to a retirement community (which loosely translates to throwing out all sorts of treasured items that wouldn't fit in the new space.) Interspersed with that was a stint of babysitting with Audrey in Seattle while her mom got to do at least a little of what she had planned to do at the Sleep Conference. I returned home to the prospect of our Summer Associate dinner/wine tasting--only 30 people, but still requiring time and attention. Then the actual packing and moving process in Baltimore, culminating in...a two week trip to San Diego/Tucson for Audrey's first birthday and some long-overdue maintenance at the SD house. Coming back to Alexandria and picking up all the loose ends--in Baltimore and here--consumed most of last week.

We are home again, at last. And the pace is once again picking up. A poem for the Alexandria Birthday celebration. Church responsibilities. A firm summer party this week. A brunch in August for our Dine with Nine group. Contemporary American Theater Festival in Shepherdstown at the end of this month. A gig with the Del Ray Artisans Summer Camp on the 28th. And, of course, the weekly trek to Baltimore to see how things are going at what JC calls "the home."

My car needs an oil change and a serious wash. My garden is somewhat the worse for wear, given the lack of rain this month. I need to de-clutter the attic and make an attempt at clearing out part of our storage area. I'm bored with everything I cook right now. I need to touch base with all the friends who have been neglected while I dealt with everything else. I have started the process of self-publication of a book of my poems--but haven't worked through all the kinks. And I owe Audrey a photo-book of her 1st birthday.

In other words, I am returning to my quasi-normal, half-completed to-do lists; I have more to do than I'll find time to accomplish in what's left of the summer. I have seized upon watering the garden as one thing I CAN accomplish that actually shows results. It is, as they say, what it is. Or, in French..que sera, sera.

Audrey's birthday: June 30

Audrey: One Year Old

The smile snaps on like a halogen bulb,

blue eyes illuminating the darkened room;

a quiet coo, a delighted giggle,

an exuberant little bounce

precipitating a wiggle, a wriggle,

then a full-fledged launch at the edge of the bed.

 

She greets the morning full-tilt,

babbling, crowing,

hurling herself at the new day

and all it has to offer:

a grab, a taste, a pull, a push, a peek—

exploration in all directions…

She seizes the day in her tiny fists

and squeezes from it

all the juice, the meaning, the excitement.

 

Her face reflects it all:

this is the first day of the world. 

Seattle, June 2009

Click here to view these pictures larger

Seattle Babysitting

I just got back from a 4-day trip to Seattle, where I was babysitting my granddaughter while my daughter attended a conference. I am here to tell you, there was no 'sitting' involved. While I had only intermittent periods of responsibility, they were enough to remind me that there is a reason why one should have one's children when one is young.

During our sojourn, we managed to visit Pike Place Market a few times, rode the monorail to Seattle Center, the site of the 1962 World's Fair and the Space Needle. Audrey rode the carousel with Kay, and we took a few walks downtown. In addition, Audrey crawled/walked an estimated quarter mile across the floors and carpets of the Sheraton and the Convention Center. She opened and closed the bathroom door of our hotel room roughly 500 times, picked up a thousand pieces of non-edible trash from various floors, made approximately 100 beelines for 10 different electrical outlets, pushed a plastic chair about a mile across a food court (mostly in circles), and circumnavigated at least 5 tables about 5 times each. We remarked upon the flight of at least ten seagulls a day, pointed at and identified each other countless times, picked up what seemed like a box and a half of Cheerios from rugs and floors, and consumed large quantities of halved grapes, pretty much on the fly. Audrey crawls faster than the proverbial speeding bullet, and possesses (I am sure) other superpowers that we can only imagine. And envy.

Following her, feeding her, walking with her when she's cranky, chasing her, pushing her stroller, carrying her, and--above all--keeping her entertained is a full-time, 24/7 job. Fortunately, my stints were limited to a few hours here and there. I don't think I would have measured up very well against my daughter's high bar. I am in awe of the fact that she does this every day, and is still managing to write a dissertation and carry on a relatively normal life besides.

I guess we all did it once upon a time, but I don't remember the process of raising my girls as being this constant, all-encompassing undertaking. Maybe I just don't remember; maybe the fact that they were 14 months apart threw me into such a black hole of motherhood activity that I didn't notice that I was insanely busy all the time. Or just insane.

Kudos, Kay. I couldn't do it again.