I hate the commercialism of Valentine's Day. I love the idea of making Valentines for my family and friends. I kinda miss the days when I had the little mailbox on my desk at school... So, since I've been in an especially crafty mood these days...what a little fancy paper and glitter can do for you!
Happy, happy!
Overheard on my way to the subway on Friday:
"See, in America, our technology is so much better. There's no pollution here because of our technology. Our factories are clean. Our cars are clean. It's not like China. They have pollution, but we don't. They could learn a lot from America. Our technology is just so good."
Why, for the love of God, doesn't anyone love me $299.00 (+tax!) enough to buy me these (BOSE noise canceling headphones) so I don't have to hear New York?
Okay. I am having a seriously bad semester with some crazily immature students. So really? I need this. Badly. Because I want to multi-task dealing with students and preparing guacamole. Think Christmas... I don't care that this is old news (2006) from Boing Boing. I have needs people:
http://www.boingboing.net/2006/03/01/silly-video-blendie.html
(make sure you click to WATCH the video. You really have to see it in action...)
Many of you who read this blog consider yourselves my good friends.
And you are. I love you. But I'm just saying this: it's 12:47 a.m.
and, good procrastinator that I am, I have a grant application due at 9
a.m. I have 4 1/2 pages written, a very iffy and badly drafted budget,
and a killer bibliography. Who is around to give me a little love?
Me, my coffee mug, my iTunes, Fawkes, and my bottle of pepto bismal.
That's all I'm saying: at 12:47 a.m., it's me and my best
friend--coffee. Do you think it's time to really write yet???
Ohhh la la! Lingual X's photography is featured in Schmap San Diego:
That picture of Spreckel's Organ Pavilion is mine, y'all!
Dear Mother,
I cannot help it that you are a technotard. I have tried very hard to teach you. You have been a very bad student, engaging in activity like spilling coffee on your keypad and driving over your laptop with your car. I fear that you are beyond help. However, to ensure that I am not despondent in the upcoming Navidad season, I will attempt to instruct you again. Here we go.
Here is the link. THIS IS THE LINK. Put your cursor over the words "THIS IS THE LINK" that appear to the left of this sentence in all capital orange letters (or slightly above it, depending on the spacing on your computer screen). Click the bar below your touchpad. You will, via the magic of the Internet, arrive at the original site. Happy. Christmas. Shopping. Because you have dallied, they are already sold out. So, now you have to call them and offer them lots more money to make one just for me. Oh, and it has to ship from South Africa. So really, no time like the present.
Love,
Lingual X
P.S. If you cannot manage this, I will also consider accepting a bibliomula, but only if it come pre-packaged with books AND if I can ride it to work. Please see the information below about a bibliomula (and really--wouldn't it just be easier to call South Africa?).
Dear Male and Female Parental Units, and Lingual Y,
Does anyone deserve this more than me? Really. I am begging you. Openly. Shamelessly. On the Internet.
Read more about it (and order it!) here: http://www.vestaldesign.com/blog/2006/11/holy-cow-a-bookcase.html
When I was a little girl, my mother and I used to make bread once a week for my mom, my dad, and me. I loved bread-baking day! My mother started me early and I always worked with her. At the end of the process, I got a little bit of dough to make my own tiny cinnamon raisin bread for breakfast the next day. Some of my fondest, deepest memories are of learning to bake. The smell of rising dough, the sweet mix of yeast and sugar and flour, delight every part of my soul. So, on a day when I have time to make bread, it's always a happy day. Sadly, my frenetic pace does not allow me to bake bread once a week (nor my mother's schedule either!).
So, this weekend I decided to bake bread. I got up early, intending to head to the store to buy my ingredients. Although I've been using the same recipe since I was 3 or 4 years old, I always double check it--White Bread Plus in Joy of Cooking. So, following my usual routine, I checked the recipe and then put the book on the floor, open to the recipe page. Our darlingest cat then decided to throw up. On the book. On the page. AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! So, I headed off to Barnes and Noble to purchase a new Joy of Cooking (mine was an old inherited version, circa 1970s) and what to my wondering eyes should happen? I discovered that White Bread Plus is no longer in Joy of Cooking! Oh no!
So, I came home, wiped the vomit off the recipe, typed it up, and taped it into my new copy of Joy of Cooking. And then? I made 6 loaves of bread! Hurrah!
Here's the recipe, if you're interested:
White Bread Plus
Joy of Cooking, circa 1975, no longer appearing in the book.
Makes Three 5 x 9 Loaves
This method of mixing bread dough calls for active dry yeast and an electric mixer. If using compressed yeast, use these same ingredients, but follow the conventional method given for White Bread. As this recipe requires less yeast and more sugar than does White Bread, and because this bread, started in a cold oven, has a longer proofing period, less yeast flavor is retained.
In a large mixer bowl, mix together:
3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
1 tablespoon salt
1 package active dry yeast
Combine:
2 ½ cups 120-130 degree water
½ cup lard or shortening
The shortening does not need to melt. Gradually add to dry ingredients and beat 2 minutes at medium speed, scraping bowl occasionally. Add to make a thick batter:
1 beaten egg
1 cup sifted all-purpose flour
Beat ½ minute at low speed, then at high speed 3 minutes. Stir in to make a soft dough:
3 to 4 cups sifted all-purpose flour.
Turn out onto a lightly floured board and knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Allow the bread to rise once in the mixing bowl and once in the baking pan. To bake, place loaves in a cold oven. Turn the heat to 400 degrees. After 15 minutes, reduce the heat to 375 degrees and bake 25 minutes longer. Test for doneness. Remove the loaves at once from the pans and cool on a rack before storing.
**Personal Note--my variations: If time, allow bread to rise 2 times in the bowl and once in the pan. This makes the bread very light and fluffy. Also, you can use 1/2 whole wheat flour and 1/2 white flour, for a healthier version. I haven't moved to all whole wheat flour--it makes the bread very dense.
Enjoy!
NPR tonight had a totally sweet (sorry for the pun) commentary by Anne Fadiman on the pleasures of ice cream. I love Fadiman's work, but in a bizarre moment of serendipity, I must say, she's wrong. In her overview of ice cream and its acceptable sinfulness, she says that flavors like "corn" can't possibly meet the desires of true ice creamaholics. I am a serious ice cream afficionado (in fact, coming from a long line of ice cream makers...) and before this weekend, I would have agreed with her. My own temptations run the gamut from chocolate to peanut butter to butter pecan to dulce de leche to coconut. Oh, but now I have to differ. Friday night, I had occasion to swing by Cones on Bleecker Street. And, in a moment of rash peer pressure, I tried corn ice cream. It was fabulous. Who knew? Corn ice cream.
If we were in the third grade writing the ubiquitous "how I spent my summer vacation" essays, the above pictures would pretty much summarize one major part of my summer (for those of you following the saga of our floor, that would be yet another major summer story). Quite literally the first day of summer for me, I was taking care of a variety of errands, including a check up breast ultrasound. Much to my dismay, they found 2 lumps, one .7 cm and one 1.3 cm. I spent 4 weeks waiting to see a surgeon, and another 2 waiting to have a core needle biopsy. So, here we are. I wanted to take pictures during the procedure itself, but I couldn't, so here are the after shots.
The procedure itself was pretty cool. They let me watch the whole
thing and explained what they were doing. My geek self loved the
technological advances of medicine (and the humanistic approach of the
medical staff!). The procedure started an hour late, but the doctor
immediately put me at ease with his story of how he got to work: he
drives a jeep and forgot to put the top up. Thanks to our August
thunderstorms, he had to bail out the jeep before he could drive to
work! (fairly hilarious!)
I'll have the results next sometime next week, but I've spent the last
6 weeks in a philosophical funk and being somewhat of an emotional
wreck. Instead of finishing all of the articles and the book proposal
I had planned for the summer, I spent the summer playing. I just
couldn't make myself work, so I tried to enjoy the summer. For the
very first time, since 1989, I actually took an entire summer off! It
was kind of amazing and filled with all sorts of the best pleasures.
Along the way, I made some startling realizations and I've come to some
personal conclusions about life priorities that were a long overdue.
So, not all bad.
I'll keep you posted on the results.
(Cross posted on both blogs).
Over the weekend, I was thinking about leisure time and the fact that there is never enough time for everything I want to do! I could fill up every day of the week with fun. So, I was thinking: pre-tirement. The time for retirement is now. I need the leisure time and I can enjoy it now, not later. Later, when I don't have as much energy to run around, that seems to me to be the perfect time to work. Later, once I use up all of my social security I can go to work and earn money. Go to work, sit in a chair, expend less energy. Reverse the current order of things.
Pre-tirement. Let's make it a campaign issue now.
G'day mates! LX checking in here. Many apologies for the down time. I was felled by the evil stomach flu followed almost immediately by a business trip. And I came home to an annual performance evaluation. So much to do, so little time, so much sleep needed! But, home again, home again, getting back on line. Check out some of my great pics from L.A. I had a chance to go to the gardens at the Getty Museum and at the Huntington Library. Gorgeous.
Best two signs I wish I had stopped to snap on my trip:
"Free Pregnancy Test. $25.00"
"Food Bank" (canopy outside of a deli)
And, for the record, apparently the Getty Museum is the hot L.A. spot for dating. Overheard outside of the women's bathroom:
"I bring all my dates here. You gotta try it, man. Art equals sex."
And now? Back into the political frey: Imus, the Supreme Court, Abortion Bans, Virginia Tech massacres, and so much more. Randomly regular updates to resume soon.
Yes, on a 6 hour flight from New York Los Angeles
Okay, for the most part, I am not cross-posting with my LX Project 365 blog, but for those of you who don't read that blog, here is my service announcement. Having a bad day? A bad week? I recommend the Indigo Girls. In concert. I was treated last night, by my fabulous friends, to an amazing concert. Here is a bad, blurry picture that makes me happy.
Okay, I'm not going to win any prizes for photography on this one (note especially the guy's head in front of me), but in the spirit of one picture a day, this was THE day. An Indigo Girls' Concert. They played at Town Hall which is a cool venue because you can really see the stage. I don't actually think I've ever seen the Indigo Girls indoors. And we were 5 rows from the stage. COOL!! Need I say more? ROCKING.
Hmmmmm.... I thought we were doing fairly well here without a car, using public transportation, etc. Guess there's much more work to do! What's your ecological footprint?
CATEGORY ACRES
Happy 2nd Birthday Lingual Tremors!
(Photo by Mylomilo)
Well, now, we've been on the web for two years. Thanks to all of my readers for making me want to sit down and write. Among many other things, blogging has changed my relationship to writing for the better! It's been a hoot, full of fun and politics with highlights like hosting the Carnival of Feminists last fall. Who knows what the next two years will bring!!! Stay tuned!!!
We love Ace of Cakes on the Food Network. The website for charm city cakes is here. I desire the Sushi, Muertos, and Death Star cakes in chocolate raspberry flavor. Lingual Y would like the Lush Ling Ling cake, probably in dulce de leche form. That is all from the house of televised desires.
I was skimming through The Happy Feminist's old posts the other day and I stumbled on this book meme which I decided to assign to myself! The problem with questions like these is that my answers change depending on my mood, but here's a rough go at answering these!
1. One book that changed your life?
Carolyn Forche's The Country Between Us; specifically, the poem "The Colonel." This was the first time I really understood the relationship between literature and politics. It was also the first time I fully understood the power of the written word. "The Colonel" marks the time in my own writing career when I began to shed my early Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton ideal of poetry for something less romantic.
2. One book you have read more than once?
Michael Harper's Dear John, Dear Coltrane and Luisa Valenzuela's Lizard's Tale. I have a poet brain and a writer brain and so I don't really think this is cheating :-). Dear John, Dear Coltrane is one of the classic poetry collections of the late 20th century. It embodies the best of poetry and pushes the reader hard on issues of race and class. Harper's language is so musical that I begin twitching when I pick up the book. Valenzuela, on the other hand, captivates my imagination more than anyone I can imagine. I appreciate a fiction writer who challenges me and makes me do work when I'm reading. Valenzuela is the pleasure of a hard day's work and the fascination of a dark, twisted, and gloriously gender-questioning work.
3. One book you would want on a desert island?
Gabriel Garcia-Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude: if I were on a desert island and I could have only one book, I would want the book that continues to inspire me today. Garcia-Marquez was the original George Lucas. I love the building of an original mythology. I love the complete and total world-building that he does. I get lost in his books and I wish I could step through the pages to that time and place. I want to meet his characters. Stuck on a desert island, Macun is where I would like to spend my days dreaming.
4. One book that made you laugh?
This is the easiest to answer--Richard Russo's Straight Man. I read that right after I got tenure as part of my "academic fiction" self-prescription. It's a hilarious send up of academia and well worth the read.
5. One book that made you cry?
I'm cheating here--2 books for very different reasons: I, Rigoberta Menchu and Mary Doria Russell's The Sparrow. I almost never get emotionally engaged in a book enough to cry. So, when a writer makes me cry, I consider it to be a major accomplishment. These are the last two books that really made me cry and left me with a profound sadness for days after I finished reading them.
6. One book you wish had been written?
Tory Dent's next book of poetry, but with her death last year, that can't happen. Black Milk, her last collection, is sheer brilliance.
7. One book you wish had never been written?
Larry Kramer's Reports from the Holocaust: I may change my mind about this later, but of late, I feel like we haven't learned anything about ourselves and our society because of the AIDS epidemic. I feel like, in some ways, our society is just as ugly as when Kramer first began writing about the AIDS epidemic. And, I wish AIDS hadn't happened. So, I wish Kramer wouldn't have had to chronicle the ugliness of society and the ways we exposed that ugliness while people around us were dying. But, since AIDS happened, and since that period needed to be chronicled, I'm glad people like Kramer were brave enough to take on the task.
8. One book you are currently reading?
Zadie Smith's On Beauty--beautiful writing.
9. One Book you have been meaning to read?
Ha Jin's War Trash--never enough time in the day to read everything I want to!
Personal Note to the Quixotic Tremor: Oh sage of all things lingual, I am very well aware that Menchu, Garcia-Marquez and Forche all need accent marks, so don't tell me that! I couldn't get the accent function to work this morning!!!
Well, it's almost 2 a.m. here on the East Coast, and the Tremors are finally retiring after finishing a long day of church services and Christmas preparations. Today, some of us went to 3 different services; some of us went to 4! One of the things I love about being home is the way we all slide into our familial rhythm. Today, dad needed our help with services. So, across 3 different services I served as: a liturgist, a greeter, and usher, and a communion steward. It's been a long, but wonderful day.
As I was driving to church this morning, I had on 9 Lessons and Carols, broadcast live from England. This is one of my favorite holiday traditions--listening to Christmas Eve fall across the Atlantic, filling me with anticipation for our own celebrations the next day. My other favorite tradition is the reading of the Christmas cards. The Tremors save all of the cards until P.T. and I come home. Then, we read them--all--aloud at dinner. It's a wonderful time to catch up on news about old friends and to see what an amazing impact mom and dad have had on their new community as people stop to wish them well. One of the many interesting things about our Christmas cards is the cards that ministers send to one another. They range from widely inappropriate humor to my favorite, the ones that "reveal" the person. As a case in point, we got a card from a minister of my dad's persuasion. On his liturgically appropriate card, he scrawled: "Thank God for the elections. We needed that change!" This is the kind of house I grew up in--politically astute, and focused on social justice. Good, but not surprising, to see that repeated amongst our friends near and far!
Okay, off to bed... merry, merry!
I think my wreath is sweet. And no, I didn't "make" it--but I did add the green ribbon. How very, very Martha.
Chez Lingual celebrates Christmas (what we call "Couple Christmas" before departing to the 'rents houses), but we live in a primarily Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. Thus, the surprising development this year in our very own apartment building of "My Wreath is Bigger Than Your Wreath." It's a war of the Joneses, New York City style!
Here is the Linguals' door, sporting a snow-encrusted cranberry wreath with a green bow:
All doors in our building are a standard size: about 3 1/2 feet wide by 6 feet tall. The Linguals' wreath measures a mere 8 inches all the way around (with extra height given by the dangling bow).
Here is our neighbor's wreath, measuring (yes, I did take a ruler to the wreath when no one was around) 36 inches wide and 36 inches tall. Although my photography skills are limited--you don't quite get the scope, it's MASSIVE:
Ahhh... what's next? Who can blaze the most lights out of their window? Or, perhaps, add festive details like Santa-themed floormats? Or, maybe, everyone is just enjoying the season in his/her own way???
Let's call it: Atmospherically Influenced by the End-of-Term Brain Meltdown. Of course it was Alanis Morissette, not Sheryl Crow. Duh.
Have a frightfully fabulous day! Love, Cleopatra
| HowManyOfMe.com | ||
|
(Image from: Elias Torres, photoblog)
With the Mets winning last night 6-3 last night over the Colorado Rockies, Lingual X started the beginning of summer vacation. In the next week, Lingual X will be off on an adventure (what some people MIGHT call vacation). I don't know if I'll have any internet access at all, so just in case, let's say I'll be back in the blogosphere on Sunday, 27 August. You can look forward to some serious posting on the New York Fringe Festival (I made 7 of 200 shows in the last week: House, Open House, Girl Scouts, Planet Samovar, Happy Sauce, The Deepest Play Ever, and Walmartopia), new and improved (!) updates on el mundo political, and gearing up for hosting the Carnival of Feminists. In the meantime, saunter on over to Being Amber Rhea for the most recent Carnival of Feminists. The usual gang is there plus some newbies. There are some great posts on the gender divide in cyberland. Enjoy!
Enjoy the last days of surf & sun! And, if I find an internet connection, I will post from time to time...
94 degrees today. 103 tomorrow. Air conditioning on the fritz. Lingual Kitty says: "I'm HOT!"
17 July 1996:
Rage, rage against the dying of their lights.
Now I love a rainy day, especially when I can curl up with a good book, but the east coast is starting to look like something out of Ray Bradbury's "All Summer in a Day":
It rained.
It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to the other with rain, with the drum and gush of water, with the sweet crystal fall of showers and the concussion of storms so heavy they were tidal waves come over the islands. A thousand forests had been crushed under the rain and grown up a thousand times to be crushed again. And this was the way life was forever...
To that, I offer Mr. Frog, all dressed up, summer style, and "waiting for the sun":
85 degrees; 61% humidity:
Air-conditioning in the bedroom only at home, so off to Starbuck's with my laptop & iPod. And yes, that is WHIPPED CREAM on my grande caramel frappuccino light. Good lord. The summer's only just begun.
We are what we buy, no? A thought on corporate whoredom:
I live in the American Gardens Building on W. 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and rigorous exercise routine. In the morning if my face is a little puffy I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do 1000 now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.
~Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho
And we all know how that ended...
Now that I've posted my grades & my semester is officially over, I'll be catching up on the old blog. As I think about the recent headlines I've missed blogging on however, Walter Benjamin comes to mind:
Opinions are to the vast apparatus of social existence what oil is to machines: one does not go up to a turbine and pour machine oil over it; one applies a little to hidden spindles and joints that one has to know.
Quizilla | Join | Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code Words of theological wisdom from the Divine Tremor (aka Male Parental Unit, M.Div.):
When fundamentalist Christians argue that "abstinence" only is the answer to sex ed in the United States, they fundamentally contradict their literal interpretations of the Bible. The Virgin Mary, by all accounts, was practicing abstinence only.
Let's hear it for a little liberal theology!
Dear Reader,
What do a broken dresser and poetry have to do with one another? I spent the weekend, among other things, attempting to put my dresser back together. The middle drawer came apart in four different places. With the notable exception of my desk and our dressers, the rest of the furniture in our apartment is of the post-graduate school, early professional life Target variety particle board decorating style. Call it truly shabby chic. So, I am loathe to do away with my dresser, made of real wood, with intricate woodwork--all in invisible places--where the sides theoretically lock without need of glue because of their perfect hole and peg construction. Only, there's warping and aging and the dresser drawer front fell off. In February. So, among my "spring cleaning" chores has been to fix the dresser.
I admire the clear craftsmanship of the drawers, but they needed reinforcement, so I bought Gorilla Glue. And, day by day, I have been rebuilding the drawer by putting the sides back together and then reinforcing them with glue. The result is quite ugly; I'm not that kind of craftswoman and I've been fretting over it. How to maintain the beauty of the drawer, but also make it functional?
And then, as the cat increasingly invaded my dresser (due to the gaping hole in the middle), saturating my clothes with cat hair, I just needed to finish the job. It occurred to me that sometimes, it's important to just hold things together, however you can. The glue is as important as the rest of the craft. Sometimes, it just has to stay together.
And sometimes, poems need to come together in other ways because they just have something to say. They might be a little ugly, or miss the craft of the MFA-style poem. But, all by themselves, they still say something powerful & important.
I was out and about with my camera today on my way to work and I started thinking about my recent crankiness with regard to poetry. I've always been a boom or bust poet. My writing is both deadline and emotionally driven. I write because I have to--literally for a workshop or a class or because I just don't know what to do with what I'm feeling. Lizzie West's song, "Take These Demons," certainly serves as one articulation of why I write:
Take these demons from my brain; I can't get caught in that thought again. And all these patterns seem the same. First my mind begins to slip. Then I fall and lose my grip. And it all comes back to this. Take these demons from my brain; I can't get caught in that thought again. And all these patterns seem the same...
But lately (oh, say, the last two or two and a half years or so...) I've taken to avoiding writing poetry at all costs. And, this blog is certainly yet one more distraction in the search to avoid writing. And, probably, at the end of the day, while I enjoy blogging, I don't consider it "writing" in the same sense I do a poem or an article. My blog posts tend to be immediate thoughts, reactions, and reflections written as first drafts. My poems, on the other hand, suffer through endless revision after revision after revision.
I've spent a lot of time thinking about why I am not writing, and why poetry seems like the only form of "legitimate writing" to me. I certainly spend my days immersed in words--from articles to editing to blogging to work-related writing--yet none of that seems to "count" for my writer identity. Even my scholarship doesn't feel like real "writing" in the way that poetry does.
Poetry, for me, is ultimately a task of housekeeping. It's how I make sense of the world and how I organize it. Poems allow me the opportunity to compartmentalize and order an often chaotic world. I won't die if I never write another scholarly article, but I don't know what would happen if I never wrote another poem. It's not a "hobby," or a "past-time," it's a vital part of who I am and how I interact with the world around me. Poetry makes more sense to me than anything else.
So, then, why do I avoid it? This morning, as I was meandering my way towards work, I saw this "Do Not Enter" sign and realized it's the perfect metaphor for why I am avoiding writing. For the first time in my life, I am censoring my writing, deciding that there are topics I just "can't" write about.
| You Belong in Paris |
 You're the perfect person to wander the streets of Paris aimlessly, enjoying architecture and a crepe. |
Happy Birthday to me!!!
(This comes from Brilliant Disguise...)
| You Are an Espresso |
 At your worst, you are: anxious and high strung You drink coffee when: anytime you're not sleeping Your caffeine addiction level: high |
and... "If I had a computer I'd blog against sexism day." Here's what I have to say about that. In Gerda Lerner's Creation of Feminist Patricarchy she writes, "Women have had less spare time and above all less uninterrupted time in which to reflect, to think and to write."
In the past week, I've spent: 2 full days in national committee meetings, 1 full day working on a journal I edit, 1 day running a fundraiser luncheon, 4 days of 10-12 hours per day of administrative hoo hah, 4 hours running workshops for adjunct faculty on pedagogy, and 4 hours teaching, and 6 hours writing an article that's overdue. That's 96 hours of work in 7 days and 42 hours sleeping. That does not count bathing, eating, commuting, or phone time.
If I had uninterrupted TIME, I would have blogged. Sorry!
In the next few days or weeks, I will probably do some posting about some recent upheavel in my family, which in large measure accounts for my recent absence in the bloggosphere. In the meantime, however, I have been focusing myself on Thich Nhat Hanh's guidance on mindfulness & compassion.
Drink Your Tea
Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis
on which the world earth revolves
- slowly, evenly, without
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.
~Thich Nhat Hahn
A nice biographical overview: Thich Nhat Hanh
Visit Plum Village
To the anonymous reader who e-mailed me off-blog:
So, you knit a scarf to match your blog's colors?
Yes, yes I did. Call it the blog scarf...
Hat tip to Mad Melancholic Feminista
Check out the link to Snap Shirts!
Like many others in my "Gen X" grouping, I am essentially a nomad. While I have a full-time job in New York, in many ways, I have yet to set down roots. Add to this my history as the daughter of a United Methodist Minister; we moved every 4-6 years. I am generally from New York and Pennsylvania, but I don't have real roots anywhere yet. Home i
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