Sunday, December 26, 2010


To: Self
From: Me & I
Re: Christmas 2011

Lest you forget the adventuresome nature of this year's celebration, here's a list of things to do next December.

1. Thaw the ham before the day.
2. Check to see if said ham is cooked. If no, check the cooking time of uncooked hams.
3. Trust but verify with the propane company. "You are scheduled to be filled." does not mean "We will definitely get to you before before we go home and enjoy the bubbly."
4. Posting wish lists online doesn't work for mother in law. Make sure she has access to them even if it means printing them out and mailing them with a stamp.
5. Dark chocolate, figs, anise, salt, and pepper make great bark.
6. One batch of sugar cookies may not look like much, but it is indeed sufficient. Congrats on your baking restraint.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Merry Christmas, Adam

Dear you,
These are some of the poems I wrote in April 2010 as part of the National Poetry Writing Month challenge. Thanks for the inspiration. Merry Christmas ! 


Meeting You
I stand there stickily seething, contemplating
my brand new Mr. Pib perfume and body lotion.
You introduce yourself, offering help.
Gratefully, I accept. A decade later, I am still grateful
to a child and a can of soda on a camping trip.


I knew

I knew that you
would share my children
the moment I saw you
rescuing a friend's
child from a dreaded
splinter with
patience and a
pocket knife.


Talking to You

Your eyebrows say so
much, just by
going like this:
Always asking me
the question of
the moment.

The alarm goes off
"I slept great. You?"

You open the bathroom door
"I'll be done in just a sec."

The kids race between us,
trailing their argument
like a kite.
"They've been like this
since lunch. It must have
been something in the
peanut butter."


evidence they leave behind

socks on the sofa
pencils on the table
underwear under the chair
science experiments in the corner
crumbs on the tile
hugs in the morning
mischievous smiles


Country City Mouse

If only,
if only you had chosen me
if only...
you would not
end each day with dirt under your nails
you would not
spend precious hours commuting to your life
you would not
have to sweep the yard back out of the kitchen everyday
you would have
enough time for art, for poetry, for music
for unhurried creation and uninterrupted appreciation
If only you had chosen me,
had stayed on the coast in the capital...
If only!

All of that might be true
if only I had chosen you.
I would wear heels and suits
instead of slippers and sweats.

I'd plant in neat balcony pots
instead of sprawling yard plots.

With you, though, I would not
live in the harmony of seasonal time,
appreciating super starry nights
and putting up fruit in its prime.

If only I had chosen you,
would I value you? Or -
would I ache for this
the way I ache for you now?

You might have led me around the world
following fulfilling work,
but you would never have given me these
children, who are products of this place.

You would never have shown me this path.
I did not choose you. I chose this, and
I am finished with 'if only'

for now...


We Two

Always one step beyond,
you ground me
keeping me from
blowing in the wind.

Always patient,
you put up with
my waffling
in my decisions.

Some days,
I drive you crazy,
but where there is tolerance
there is love.