Found poem

It's a ripple effect,a tantalizing carrot
sounding like chirping light rail wires
tasting like cigars and leather loafers.
Feeling like cool glass and clean metal.
A big hit for block 8.

The old fire station sits in the middle
of the trickle down development.
A cost.
An asset.
A decision.
A building?
The way they talk--in opportunities and promises--
you wonder if anything is real.

But they've brought bocce to the city,
an old, fat man's game
made new and sleek for dazzling neighborhoods
teeming with young professionals.
In their lime green and silver clothes
they toss the palino over oyster shells and sand,
speak of pinot and port.

Santa Fe wedding

Yes. We have a friend named Kip. Kip married a girl named Fancy, which is apparently a popular name in Texas. Here are some of the highlights of Kip-wed, 2006.

1. Kip's dad is named Chip. I wonder if Kip's grandfather was named Flip. Or Skip. If Kip and Fancy ever have a baby boy, I hope they name him Rip.

2. The day of the wedding, I heard my cellphone ringing, just as I was beginning a one-hour massage. I ignored it. Later that afternoon as I was sitting in Santa Fe at the Atomic Cafe, waiting for my fish tacos, I listened to my voicemail. It was Kip. "Hey! I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Can you pick up some pies? Like, four or five pies? A chocolate creme pie, key lime, coconut... maybe a pumpkin pie?"














3. Kip and Fancy held their ceremony on the Nambe Pueblo, at the Kiva Bear campsite. Kip told us twice that his shirt was designed in Japan, made in Italy. At their ceremony, the women were asked to scatter rose petals in a circle around the bride and groom. The men were asked to scatter corn meal. This represented sweetness and plenty. I cried the whole time.















4. Nimba, Kip's 15 year-old dog, cried too. She's a very emotional canine.














5. The ceremony started after seven p.m. We learned the gates to the Pueblo would close at eight! We drove our car 2.1 miles out from Kiva Bear, just past the gates, so we wouldn't get trapped for the night. But we'd have to walk those 2.1 miles to the car through the very dark, New Mexico desert. I imagined encountering scorpions and coyotes.

6. D'oh! Another wrinkle. The woman bringing the food was delayed. Her transmission died. We were afraid the wedding feast would consist of this (plus some pies and beer):

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We lucked out though because her husband was a state trooper, so the potato salad, pork and beans, and brisquet arrived safely in the back of a squad car, just before the gates closed (Mmmm. Good).

Jane Eyre on dreams

S. and I discovered we have a similar dream about haunted houses. The difference being that in her house, there's always only one ghost/scary thing. And usually she knows what it is and how to avoid it. In mine, it's always several ghosts. I'm in a big house with lots of windey staircases and hidden alcoves. I never see the ghosts, but I know they are there, and I dread having to go into the rooms they haunt.

It's always puzzled me, what these dreams mean. But maybe I just need to pick up my dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre to figure it out. Course, it's known among English majors everywhere that Bronte used the house as a metaphor for the mind. The madwoman that Jane discovers in the attic is just her own wild alter-ego.

Maybe, those haunted rooms are places in my brain I'm afraid of going. Maybe next time I have that dream, I should just march right in, proclaim I'm staying until the ghosts get out.

Suuuuuuh-mer

It's summer. Which means a few things. 1) I commute to work once a week on bike (18+ miles, one way). 2) I start conning myself into believing I'll actually lose a few pounds and be back to my normal weight by the end of the summer from all the biking. 3) I drink copious amounts of sangria, thereby negating all the positive benefits of the biking.

It's worth it though. Because here's my commute.



Usually, I'm driving over this bridge on my way to work each morning. When I bike, I get to zoom under it, then pedal along the Columbia River. Often, I see nervous rabbits and stately herons. Little birds pop up out of the tall grass after eating a breakfast of grass seed. They zoom alongside me and skim across the water's surface.



Also, another signal that it's summer: my garden is just on the brink of going absolutley Little Shop of Horrors. In another month, I'll be thinking to myself, "Oh my god, how could I let it get this way?" But right now, I have my first sunflower of the year. Oh--and the biggest banana slug ever, taking a snooze in the watering can.

Move over, Lois

Last night I was transported back to my youth when I saw the latest Superman film. What is it about Superman? No Christopher Reeve, but I got the same sort of swoony feeling. Oh, I wish Superman would fly around the world with me in his arms. Sigh. Look at his biceps. The new dude is pretty amazing looking, even if it is in an airbrushed sort of way.

I asked T. if, as a man, he wanted to BE Superman. He sort of chuckled and said "Well, that's kind of the point, isn't it?" As a woman, I want to be with Superman. There's some powerful mythology going on there.