mundane

men's choir on the left, gospel on the right.  gospel choir posed in dynamic "gospel style" figurations.

christian found these two sets of barbie choirs at d.i. in the locked "rare or vintage" cases in the front of the store.  he photographed them for me, knowing how much i love barbies.  each set is a hundred dollars.  a good price, but where on earth would i display them?

did anyone out there know of such a thing as barbie choirs?  please tell me what this is all about.

other than a tiny pique of curiosity about these two choirs of barbie dolls, i felt emotions ranging from blah to depressed today.

hey, maybe a list will make me feel better!

1.  wrote morning pages.

2.  took lula to tennis.

3. took lula to lifeguarding camp.

4.  answered 15 emails for online class.

5. submitted 6 manuscripts.

6. made my first batch of ice cream in my new ice cream maker (after agonizing for weeks over what to spend my williams sonoma birthday gift card on).

7. washed and dried, but did not fold, three loads of laundry.

8.  polished off the last of the 26 ears of corn we bought on tuesday at a dinner with my sister and her boys at grandma and grandpa's house.

9.  reunited with cecily and moses after they spent 10 days in arizona with cousins.  i missed them so much! so grateful to the cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who took care of them.

10.  took lula, ingrid, and nephews to sammy's for pie shakes (but no one got a pie shake, in the end, rather italian sodas, cokes, and a mango shake.) dropped ingrid and lula at muse music for open mic night.  cover charge:  $1.00.

summer: a sweet disorder

summer hiking leg wear

hiking in big springs

new for summer:

1) hiking is my new, shoulderless yoga.  since i have a shoulder injury and have to take it super easy in yoga, i'm doing more hiking instead, and i'm learning how much ego and competitiveness is still left in me, though i had fooled myself into thinking i was uber-enlightened.

2) bare legs are the new tights.  i'm not sure what to do with all this liberation & freedom.  i miss my, as it were, corsets for the leg.  my scarves, jackets, tights, leggings, and so on.  minimalist summer dressing can feel boring after a while, and gives you nothing to hide behind, to disarrange.

3) cherries are the new strawberries.  i don't love strawberries.  the best fruit in the world is now in season.  making a clafoutis this weekend.  had a salad last weekend with fresh cherry. eating cold cherries while i write

4) city of provo summer adventure camp is the new summer school.  i decided to let my elementary kids off the hook this time and not make them go to june summer school.  shout out the the wonderful counselors and fun activities the kids are doing with them this summer, and to the city for providing affordable activities and recreation for its citizens.  i really, really like the city of provo more with each passing year.

5) herrick is the new herbert.

jk.

herrick could never, ever replace herbert.  never.  but herrick makes me happy.  herbert makes me float.  herrick makes me smile.  i love the abandon and lack of censor in this poem, and, i just happened to run across it while i was thinking of how much i hate not wearing structured clothing for three months of the year.

Delight in Disorder

BY ROBERT HERRICK

A sweet disorder in the dress

Kindles in clothes a wantonness;

A lawn about the shoulders thrown

Into a fine distraction;

An erring lace, which here and there

Enthrals the crimson stomacher;

A cuff neglectful, and thereby

Ribands to flow confusedly;

A winning wave, deserving note,

In the tempestuous petticoat;

A careless shoe-string, in whose tie

I see a wild civility:

Do more bewitch me, than when art

Is too precise in every part.

summer symptoms & a little reflection

the shrine at the hell's backbone grill gardens in boulder, utah

i'm feeling that familiar anxiety, the existential anxiety of freedom, that i've experienced every summer for as far back as my memory extends.

the hours a week where i have to be somewhere to do my job are drastically reduced, but the number of projects and work i want/need to do are mounting.  i really miss having to be at work.  i'm a weirdo.

this is a nice problem to have, i know, and i don't want to sound ungrateful for the luxury of this kind of life.  i probably do anyway.

one thing i've loved about daily blogging this year is the little bit of structure it puts into my day, and even if it's not clear why i'm doing this, or for whom, i still do it anyway.

so, thank you world, readers, technology, & julie for the opportunity.

the lessons i'm trying to learn/re-learn come from yoga (sorry i'm such a yoga nerd), and this blogging project in particular seems to reinforce some of the teachings:

1) gaze at the tip of your nose.  my yoga teacher says this.  i think it means to stay present and focus on your own actions and no one else's.  (is this the same as "stay on your mat?")  this is probably most important for me.  i tend to think too far ahead, get tripped up by fears of the future and regrets of the past, and to compare myself to others too frequently.  beginning to work through this has been a profound experience for me.

2) practice, practice, practice.  for as long as you live.  every day is different, every day is practice, and arriving at a static point means you're dead.

3) falling is learning. for me this is a strong lesson because i used to think that falling was failing, and now i think it's progress, a step towards overcoming fear, a move towards the embrace of risk.  in poetry writing,  i feel like my best work happens when, at the moment of writing,  i think i'm doing something totally stupid, weird, or wrong, but i do it anyway, even if i'm scared.  my best work comes from not rejecting scary practices.

legwear:  bare, with the striped dress i wear too much.  at least i didn't wear yoga pants all day again today.

inspiration:  yoga teachings and daily blogging, whether i'm in the mood to blog or not

looking forward: to the provo farmer's market on saturday, my first one of the season & eating street tacos, tortillas hecho a mano.

burn/game on/what i did today

burned out on outfits--overwearing my striped t-shirt dress

 

not burned out on vegetgables--asparagus-potato salad with lemon cream dressing

 1. primary series yoga with russ.  c.'s back is better, so he's coming with me again.  (and julie, i know exactly how you feel! i admire that you practice at home.  i can't seem to do an unguided practice.)

2.  chorizo breakfast burrito at beto's after yoga then

3. to provo bakery to get donuts for kids. on the way home i found a lost crying toddler & rescued him.  he had escaped from his backyard without anyone noticing.

4. shopping for yogurt to make raita (i'm making dal for the salon/fireside tomorrow night).

5. practiced with c. for salon/fireside tomorrow night.  i'm approaching music practice more like yoga these days--trying not to think about the gap between where i am and where i want to be, how much better other people are, how different it feels today than yesterday.  musically staying on the mat, if you will.

6.  thought about making a lemon tart for tomorrow night using the huge bowl of lemons we brought back from arizona (c. and the kids picked them from my mom's neighbor's tree.)  didn't make tart because

7.  i suddenly got completely exhausted and burned out.  so

8.  i took a nap.  planned on waking up, doing laundry, cleaning out the kids drawers for spring/summer season but

9.  woke up still exhausted & binge-watched 5 episodes of restaurant impossible (that's what's on in the background of my picture.

10.  mustered enough energy to make dinner (pictured above) and eat with the family.  but still no game on, still feeling the burn, still no lemon tart.  what do you do when you get slammed with burn-out & you really need to get your game on?

legwear:  none

inspiration:  sucking at yoga & other stuff, but doing it anyway

looking forward: to shucking off burnout

pocket-sized, baby-o

student tights, photographed at sammy's

in honor of poem in you pocket day, i did three things (i've really tried this year to emulate my festive co-blogger, who observes so many holidays so very well):

1) read sections of christopher smart's enormous, rambling, mad, brilliant jubilate agno.

2) had my poetry students find and agree upon one small poem to distribute to the pockets of walden students.  they chose this blake poem.

3) printed out this diane di prima poem.  it is pocket-sized, with it's tiny lines and it's condensed emotion about the outsized mother love that even a crazy dame like d.d.p. is not immune to.  also found out that she's having health problems and actress/poet!!! (i didn't know tamblyn was a poet, did you?)  amber tamblyn's been holding a fundraiser for diane di prima, who has been touted as the "only feminist beat poet."  do we know if this is the truth, that di prima is the only feminist beat, my scholarly friends?

 anyway, here's the poem:

Song for Baby-O, Unborn

by
Diane di Prima
 

Sweetheart

when you break thru

you’ll find

a poet here

not quite what one would choose.

I won’t promise

you’ll never go hungry

or that you won’t be sad

on this gutted

breaking

globe

but I can show you

baby

enough to love

to break your heart

forever

 ---

the first stanza kills me!  the criteria for liking a poem shouldn't be that it says something that you would say, but that's how i feel about it anyway.

& here's something di prima wrote about motherhood (pardon the french), that also reflects my own feelings, at least in part, on the matter:

“I wanted everything—very earnestly and totally—I wanted to have every experience I could have, I wanted everything that was possible to a person in a female body, and that meant that I wanted to be mother.… So my feeling was, ‘Well’—as I had many times had the feeling—‘Well, nobody’s done it quite this way before but fuck it, that’s what I’m doing, I’m going to risk it.’”




 

inspiration: julie's devotion to festivity

legwear: no tights, just boots

looking forward: to cecily's violin recital, then a break from lessons. . .

sabbath schooling

 

to continue the burlesque show of GITP (legs! legs! legs!), here are my legs walking themselves to church

 we were schooled on this radically beautiful text today in an excellent and strong sermon:

love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.

this seems so hard to do.

i think, though, that it is one of those challenging postures that, once you achieve it, if only for a moment, you'll realize is the easiest thing in the world.

that continuously practicing and falling will take you to a point, finally, where, without effort, you are suddenly filled with love, hate falls away, and, i imagine, you are filled with the most expansively beautiful liberation a person could ever experience.


what is the practice that gets us to this place?

i want to hear your methods and inspirations, and would love some more sunday school in my life from diverse persons and readers.

the tulips, who lead such wildly brilliant and brief lives, are up

 i'm committing to a week full of vegetables.

what's on your menu this week?

le petit déjeuner, chez moi

legwear: bare, in honor of 83 degrees

inspiration: sermon on the mount

looking forward: to monday's guest blogger

performing for the camera

crushing on my new sandals & all the concrete in this structure

on our last day in arizona, c. and i had a little outing to meegs (i.e. mi amigos) for seafood tostadas, guacamole a la mesa, tortilla soup, red chile enchiladas, and limeade.

then we went to tempe and visited the arizona state university art museum.  this is a little gem of a museum.  i love the scale of the place--not too big or crowded and constructed in an interesting under/above ground design using mostly concrete.

i don't know what my problem is, but i have a hard time spending a long time in one museum.  90 minutes is max for me, an hour leaves me wanting just a little more, but happy to go still.  when we lived in nyc, i used to visit the met frequently & in short bursts.

this place you can do thoroughly in an hour.

birthday cake building

we spent most of our time in two exhibits.  the first was called "performing for the camera" and was an exhibit of staged/performative photography.  there were a couple of really moving pieces in there (and a SUPER ugly--on purpose, i'm sure--cindy sherman).  one series i loved was by spencer tunick--large scale crowds of nude people.  my favorite was a photo shot in flanders of the backs of nude figures lying on their sides with their legs all pointed in the same direction.  it made me think wow--how could the same species be so diverse?  everyone has basically the same equipment, but so many different varieties.  maybe that's not so profound, but it was striking at the moment.

miracle stories gallery

yasumasa morimura as jodie foster

then there were some self-portraits by yasumasa morimura as catherine denueuve, bridgette bardot, and frida khalo. he's way rad.

another exhibit featrured video monitors and sound recordings of people telling stories of miracles.  the videos recorded only the speakers' hands, and you couldn't tell which hands went with which voice, or really distinguish the different speakers unless you chose to wear the headphones dotted around the room to hone in on one of the stories.  in one story, a woman told of her husband wrestling a demon in a dream trying to protect her, and the next morning when she woke up, a large tumor that had been on her face for thirteen years had disappeared.  another girl told about her dog getting hit by a truck, then coming back to life.

both exhibits were thought provoking in that both had a strong bent towards illuminating the threads that bind, rather than divide, humanity.  i guess i'm gettin' all soft in my old age.  it was a happy thought upon leaving the gallery that we have more in common than we do differences.

i went to the music building, right next to the gallery, where i studied violin for three years as a teen and used to practice in the practice rooms.  the building is nicknamed "the birthday cake" for obvious reasons.

it's also thought provoking to remember your much younger self, right? visits home will make you do this, sometimes painfully.  as we're taught to do in yoga, i worked on observing those thoughts about my younger self and trying not to judge her, resent her, harsh on her, or wish she'd been different.  i've gotten a little better at that over the years.

how do you feel about your younger self?

looking forward: to my own bed.

inspiration:  similarities, not difference

legwear: i kinda have a crush on my new sandals

tights trajectory/ a missive poetry prompt

leaving utah--encountered blizzard outside of beaver, ut.

did i know the bowling shoes would match my dress in mesa, az.?

pool legs, sans tights, scottsdale, az. 

so, one more day of spring break "vacation" (decision:  taking kids places is not a vacation--it's much, much harder than going to work.  not to say it's not a worthwhile endeavor, but it's certainly not relaxing.  or is it just me?)

it's the end of the day, so i won't go into much detail, but we've gotten to see all siblings and spend an entire day at the pool, so mission accomplished--sun & sibs.  got to hold my newest nephew, marco, aka mr. bubbers/papi/chubby hubby.   he's very advanced and handsome, as are all my nieces and nephews.

i barely had time to post my guest poetry prompt from book balloon today, so i'll let it double for my blog post as well.  it's inspired by yesterday's post, and it uses jean valentine's poem again which i love more and more with each read.

i'd be so overjoyed to read anyone's attempt at this poem.  the idea for it is rather nascent, so it would be great to see how writers respond to it.

& DEFINITELY go to book balloon, register, go to the forum and click on "go--get creative."  janet mcadams has been posting a prompt for each day of april, except wednesdays when i prompt, and she has a few surprise guest poets coming up.  so do it!

A Missive, A Supplication

To whom do you supplicate?

I’ve been thinking about the poem as a prayer, a cry, a missive, a plea, an attempt to speak about something we need but we don’t have the right words, in the expository sense, to ask for. 

So we send a missive out into the world, “This is my letter to the world, that never wrote to me,” Emily Dickinson said, not knowing whom, exactly, in the world or universe, is listening, or what they will hear.

Prayer and poem connect on many points, but specifically in the way that they can be expressive in a non-direct, non-linear, nonsensical way that sometimes someone will understand and make their own sense of. 

I love this poem by Jean Valentine, and think of it as a prayer; in the end, God knows she needs to take “Jim” into the wide front porch of her lap.

The Rose


by Jean Valentine

a labyrinth,
as if at its center,
god would be there—
but at the center, only rose,
where rose came from,  
where rose grows—
& us, inside of the lips & lips:
the likenesses, the eyes, & the hair,
we are born of,
fed by, & marry with,
only flesh itself, only its passage
—out of where?    to where?

Then god the mother said to Jim, in a dream,
Never mind you, Jim,
come rest again on the country porch of my knees.




So here’s the prompt for a missive poem, after all my blah, blah, blahing (thanks for listening!)

A.  Dear __________________, (insert a word that is god-like or ungod-like here.  How about “toothbrush”?)  Please___________________________.  (Insert your cry for help here.)  It can make sense (“Brush my soul clean/Sweep my heart with your bristles") or not sense ("Please tell me who you are/change from neon pink to clear/make the teeth fall out of my head.")

Repeat this warm-up 10 times.  Here are a couple of my first attempts:

1. Dear Strawberry,  please curl me up in your tongue until tendrils sprout, and I become we.

2. O pencil, please write and unwrite, write and unwrite, write and unwrite until god’s breath makes me clear and blank as a spirit.

3.  Beloved bowl, please don’t mock me for overturning you and wearing you to the winter formal and pretending like you are an Alexander McQueen.

Okay, so some of those are silly, but I’m brainstorming and therefore not getting too critical yet.

B.  Choose three to five lines that you like and make a stanza for each, letting the prayer extend itself to wherever it wants to go?  (Who would EVER have predicted that, in Valentine’s poem,  “Jim” would come into the picture, or that god would be a mother rocking on the porch with her big comfortable lap for Jim to sit in?)

What I’m trying to say here is let your poem write itself into a prayer, let the poem tell you, your toothbrush, god, your pretty bowl, ripe strawberry, or the stars above, the words that need to be said.

Then post on book balloon, and/or get on your knees & speak your prayer aloud in a dark room.


legwear:  cocoa butter & bathing suit

inspiration: baby flesh/mr. bubbers

looking forward: to going back to work/routine

march mood: angsty baby chicks

today's baby chick craft project

only my outsized sense of duty is making me write a post tonight. 

i don't have too much to say after yesterday's mammoth blog post.

& i miss the inspiration of my blogging partner who's on leave for a while as she deals with the loss of her father. 

here's a list of my day:

1) rehearsed lalage with c.  six new (hard) songs.  good ones.  one song made me cry, no, sob, actually. (8.45 a.m.)
2) got pictures taken of my boobs ((no, not the those kind of pictures, the kind in the office with the pink ribbons everywhere that make you sad.)) (10.40 a.m.)
3) museum of art gift shop--birthday present shopping for my 5 siblings and one mother-in-law who all had birthdays recently--if by recently you mean starting in january.  i'm going to arizona to visit them next week, so i thought i'd do it in an efficient sweep.  the gift shop has rad free gift wrapping.  (11.08)
4) birthday lunch with bam at noon.  molly's.  a cafeteria-style restaurant with a mormon sunday dinner menu.  i had pot roast and bread pudding and they make a tasty cheese biscuit.  the kind of place at which ladies of a certain age love to lunch.  (12 noon)
5) macey's for strawberries and cadbury eggs. (1.10 p.m.)
6) home to make the above pictured felt chicks with activity day girls. (2 p.m.)
7) laid on the couch and made a list of stuff i gotta do, talked to kids, tried to help cecily find a friend who is "mature" and "doesn't like to play stupid things." (3.30 p.m.)
8) yoga. (4.30 p.m.)
9) bought pizza for kids (6 p.m.)
10) el salvador for pupusas, plantains with beans and cream, chicken/yucca tamales with mom, dad, aunt b., sister & her new hubby. (6. 45 p.m.)
11) sub-zero for ice cream (8.30 p.m.)
12) ran through sixth new song with c. (10 p.m.)
13) sat on couch thinking of stuff to blog about, feeling sadhappy.  a very march mood. yesnoyesnoyesno.

legwear:  boots & bare legs

inspiration:  duty--sheer grit

looking forward:  not much at the moment, but it'll get better, right?

frippery, foppery, finery & such

spring bunny at clifford farms

did i mention that it's spring?
yesterday, teaching spring poems to students, one rad poet said:
"what's the big deal about spring?  it's so shallow."
another rad poet followed up the first rad poet's comment with:
"yeah, you just have to keep reminding yourself not to get too optimistic because it's gonna end in death."
clearly, these teen writers are true poets, no?
they both passed my "are you a true poet test" yesterday.

*
today was emotionally draining.
like i do every day, i asked
"why am i doing ______?"
are my motives pure or impure?
(impure ((always))).
(what is pure, anyhow?)
& sometimes that makes me tired.
you?

*

a dandy lives at clifford farms

ingrid posted this rad onion
article from,
get this,
1996.  (the 90's
were fine
& gay & i miss them.)
do yourself a favor
and read
foppish dandy disregards local constabulary
in the onion 
& while you're at it,
also read
women voters can't help fawning over sexist g.o.p.
also in the onion, also posted by ingrid
who is my curator of online life.  how totally rad
is the onion?  i would totally pay them
to let me write for them,  wouldn't you?

*
speaking of foppery, frippery & finery,
did you want some new tights?
cuz you currently have an excellent chance
of getting some.

*
 
did i not give you enough reading material today?
oops.  sorry about that.
here's a poem by allison adelle hedge coke, from the
poetry foundation:

Redwing Blackbird

Feet firmly perch

thinnest stalks, reeds, bulrush.

Until all at once, they attend my

female form, streaked throat, brownness.

Three fly equidistant

around me, flashing.

Each, in turn, calls territorial

trills, beckons ok-a-li, ok-a-li!

Spreads his wings, extends

inner muscle quivering red

epaulet bands uniquely bolden.

Turn away each suitor,

mind myself my audience.

Select another to consider,

He in turn quiver thrills.

Leave for insects.

Perhaps one male follows.

Maybe a few brood of young,

line summertime.

Silver Maple samaras

wing wind, spread clusters

along with mine, renewing Prairie.

As summer closes, I leave

dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies,

mosquitoes, moths, spiders, crickets for

grain, see, Sunflower;

join thousands to flock Sky—

grackles, blackbirds, cowbirds,     starlings—

Swarming like distant smoke clouds, rising.

legwear: nada, under maxi skirt

inspiration: knowing that i won't always feel this way

looking forward: to a change in energy 

bravery, skirts, & you may contribute a verse

french connection skirt, thrifted in seattle last summer

i decided to try a little harder today and wear my french connection skirt, fuschia with a nearly 12 inch border of red mohair, thrifted from the lake city way value village in seattle, which is where all our best family thrifting is done.

the skirt is tight-ish and hard to style, and requires some effort to wear.  today was a day that required effort, so i decided to match it with a little more of a sartorial stretch.

1)  i taught my first locavore cooking class of the new term.  it's big and intense and we made asparagus with hollandaise, meyer lemon tarts, fettucine alfredo (what the kids ALWAYS want to make), and a sharp cheddar fondue with cubes of marble rye.

2)  one student is going through a difficult and dangerous transition.  he's very brave.  i won't reveal what he did today in order to protect his privacy, but it was big & bold,  and i admired his moxie.

3)  i was fasting, day three.  done now, but it required a little more effort to get through the day.

4)  taught my first poetry class of the new term.  i asked the students to bring in a poem that really spoke to them and one of my favorite student poets brought in this, from whitman:

Oh me!  Oh life!

by Walt Whitman
 

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

                                       Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

these verses rocked me today.  thank you, o student, for bringing it before me again.

o walt!

i can think of nothing right now more affirmative than that last line, the idea that we have the privilege of contributing a verse in our endless city fill'd with the foolish, in our sordid crowd, our empty years and recurring questions.  

how hard, but how lucky!  to have a life & to have the opportunity of contributing a verse! 

legwear:  bare

inspiration: the bravery of one who goes against the dominant culture

looking forward: to seeing my sister tomorrow!

GITP Monday Guest Blogger Ingrid, aka Bing, Bingle, Ingy, or Bingie

the fabulous ingrid

editor's note:  so, yeah, ingrid is my daughter, but also a (s) hero of mine.  she's such an inspiring person, and i can safely say that at least once a day somebody tells me that ingrid is also their hero.  she has dealt with many difficulties and obstacles in her life, always with so much grace, style, and wisdom.   i can brag about her since all of this is despite, not because of, the fact that she has me for a mother.  she's way hardcore, and she got that entirely from her father.  so i should only get credit for having good taste in choosing a partner.  

ingy and mama

1.  Are you in a tight place?  If so, what are you trying to do about it? 

     As a college student, I feel that it is my duty to be on a tight budget and a tight schedule. I don't really have a lot of say in the matter, but I try to think of it as a necessary part of the college experience so I don't get too bummed out about it. To illustrate, it is five thirty in the morning and I am working on a lab report that I wanted to send in at midnight. I am not great at chemistry, but I still can't get used to budgeting five-ish times as much time to get my work done for my General Chemistry class than it takes other students. I'm sitting in a nest of papers, books, my computer, and rose petals (long story) on the floor of my hall. When I finish this lab report, I have to write a take-home exam to turn in in class tomorrow (er, today) which means that I probably won't be sleeping at all tonight. I also try to embrace the "poor college student" archetype-- I'm wearing a thrift store skirt and a free box sweater and my midnight snack (perhaps "breakfast" would be more appropriate) was straight peanut butter from a jar I've been refilling at the dining hall's jumbo peanut butter canister. I even made a label for my beloved jar that reads "Hunger Trumps Dignity".

ingy's hallway study nest

In terms of what I'm trying to do about my tight budget and tight schedule, my favorite method is to try to keep a good sense of humor about the whole thing, mostly because I know that I'm just a kid and that not having enough time or money doesn't really matter because nobody else is depending on me to feed or take care of them. There's not a lot I can do about my tight budget, so I try to make peace with that, especially because I am currently receiving the best education money can buy and making a fuss about scooping dining hall peanut butter into a jar I've been refilling since August seems in poor taste considering the Fancypants University for Refined Ladies I'm attending. 

I could certainly do something to make my schedule less tight: I could quit one of my jobs, give up my pre-medical dreams, drop one of my dance classes, step down from the leadership of one of the clubs I'm in, give up one of my TV shows, or learn how to say no, but as Captain von Trapp tells us, "Activity suggests a life filled with meaning." I love being busy with places to be, and I am very open to the possibility that I'm addicted to meetings, but whatever the case may be, I'm at a point in my life where I can pull an all-nighter with relatively few consequences and nobody gets neglected if I'm out of my room all day, and it feels really good to be a part of a variety of engaging and exciting groups. This is all a very long way of saying that the only thing I'm doing about my tight schedule right now is trying to have a sense of humor about it. Also, let's be honest: I probably spend as many hours daily on Facebook and NetFlix and talking about nothing with my hallmates as I do asleep, so it's not as if there's absolutely no way I could get more sleep if I really wanted to. 

ingrid at her school for young ladies

2.  What do you want to get done this year?

      Thinking about one year in a holistic way is hard for me, since my calendar years tend to take the form of a weird triptych-- the last semester of one year, summer break, and the first semester of the next year. The one thing that I will be working on all year long is earning money to pay tuition, which is a little bit boring. This year I hope to completely finish my two semesters of General Chemistry so that I can move on to Organic Chemistry, Physics, and Calculus (which I will probably stumble through with as many tears and all-nighters as I need for Gen Chem), make more things (I am majorly inspired by Rozsika Parker's The Subversive Stitch), risk arrest as part of a Non-Violent Direct Action with the Earth Quaker Action Team, and develop my aesthetic values. 

3.  What inspires you? 

     I try to keep a running roster of (s)heroes, including professors, parents, classmates, carved owls that decorate the exterior of my dormitory, and people I haven't ever met, and today I am particularly inspired by agatha olek for her audacity, her reappropriation of traditional femininity in a guerilla setting, her dedication to her craft, and her playfulness. 

4.  What is your favorite legwear? 

      Wearing clothes is always a tiny bit uncomfortable for me, so as much as I love tights, going bare-legged is always my first choice. I don't especially enjoy shaving my legs, but I do like having bare skin through which I can feel the sun and the wind, and I love feeling skirts and dresses swirl around my legs. Also, I don't think this counts as legwear, but I absolutely love wearing boots.

almond lu

the sun is out

 laundry
& donuts
(crying)
swimming
& steam room
hair cut at shep salon
popcorn
& dvd
macey's
(crying)
for asparagus
almond flour
& oranges
& grading
yoga
(crying some more)
& allergies
short sleeves
& bare legs

a day
with beautiful
& excruciating
moments

luckily
i have a daughter
named lula
to sit on the couch
with me
and shoo
the black dog
away

and lula has a new haircut, a glass of chilled almond milk

ten more rad things in provo, part trois

1. provo peace  i was über disheartened by lady hate like this and this (the second one's personal, as my daughter's a barnard senior, my other daughter attends a women's college, and my husband and i both have degrees from women's colleges) recently, but boy am i heartened by the justice-seeking young people of provo.  plus, what good taste in poets they have!  i look forward to celebrating international women's day with them tonight.

2. gamelan bintang wahyu not every community has its own gamelan, an indonesian percussion orchestra, and we're lucky to have one right here in provo.  they played with the 700 student provo school-district elementary choir last night.  also, their director, professor jeremy grimshaw is super rad (and funny)  and has a new book out about experimental composer la monte young, of mormon extraction, who influenced everyone, i mean everyone, who did anything cool in music in the 60's and 70's.

3. slab pizza for five bills you can get a hand-stretched slab of pizza and a drink just south of byu campus.  their sauces are homemade--my favorite is the new mexico green chile with a fried egg on top.  love the convergence of artisan, locavore, and diy going on at slab.

4. kimberly johnson this gal's the real deal (or the 'rill dill' as we say in provo) of poetry.  she recieved a guggenheim this year, and her book leviathan with a hook is fantastic.  read it.  and know that poets are among us.

5. andrew the cheese monger technically he works in orem at the harmon's on 800 north, but just a hair over the provo border, so i'm gonna count it as provo.  andrew's for real (rill).  he went to cheese school and everything.  his cheese section enables provoans to create cheese boards like this one.  seriously, if you want to expand your taste buds and kick your parties up a notch in sophistication, go in and talk to andrew, get yourself five cheeses of various hard and softnesses, some bread, fruit, and beverages, and you'll be feeling all french in no time. (i'm excited to go make mozzarella with him tomorrow.)


6. elders every day my neighbor sets off in her black tracksuit with white stripes down the legs and arms at an alarmingly fast clip.  i don't mean fast for a 93 year-old dame.  i mean, the girl is race-walking.  she has never missed a day or slowed a smidgeon in the five years i've been her neighbor (okay, maybe that one time she got taken to the hospital in an ambulance).  but she was soon back to her walking, fast as ever.  the structure of our community means that we have a lot of mixed-age interaction, and i'm so grateful to know so many folks in their 90's.  vigorous, smart, classy, and giving me perspective on the world.  i'd love to know if we have more 90 year-olds living in provo than in other places, or if i just see them more often.  our clean living makes us prone to old age, and it's good to see people who do it with style.  (though i could wish my neighbor backed her white caddy out of the driveway just a tad more slowly.)

7. provo orem word, march edition, 2012.  check out the cool things provoans write and do.


8. dual immersion language programs we have spanish, chinese, french and german.  if i have my facts straight, we have to most dual immersion language programs per capita of any community in the united states.  i have a few concerns as an educator about full inclusion in these programs, which we can talk about some time, but in general, the more words we have to describe the world with the better.  i love that my community values language so much.


9. tight-knit communities of course we can always do better at making sure everyone feels included, but i think we do a pretty good job of taking care of our neighbors here.  we have a neighbor in need right now,  and i know our community will rally to help him.


10. kodaly string program kodaly is a lovely way of teaching music to children.  we happen to have creative and energetic music teachers here who, in collaboration with the district specialist dr. jerry jaccard, have created a string program integrating kodaly training.  as far as i know, this is the only kodaly string program in the world.  it's a beautiful thing, and the children can really sing and play here.  best of all, it's a public school program available to all children.

legwear:  bare under maxi-skirt
inspiration:  men and women working for equality
looking forward: to full parity