The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key...10? poems for List Friday

(Donald Swann)

This is a re-posting. It was originally posted sometime in June. I wrote it on a Sunday and then hid it in the previous week's archives. What can I say, sometimes a girl needs to be sentimental. It's been a rough week in Sarah Louise Land. But I am still learning.

So, a reprise of "The Grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key..."

Loretta's List Friday was about what ten things (aside from live loved ones) we'd grab from the house in an emergency. My inner life is too tumultuous at the moment to even imagine an outward emergency.

This morning, I awoke early and wasn't ready to get out of bed. So I grabbed one of my latest Goodwill finds, a book of poetry/prose compiled by Elizabeth Goudge. I was pawing through the pages, looking for something, not knowing what. When I found IT, it took me all over my apartment, tearing through my "treasure boxes" for a poem that I love. While searching, I discovered something I had made lost and am now ready to embrace, a translation of the Love chapter (1 Corinthians 13) done by my last love, a complex man that I knew for two years, dated for one of those. He is now happily married, and through the magic of the Internet, I know that the day he defended his doctoral dissertation, his first son was born. I never subscribed to the "I'll always love you" theory--I figure, we're broken up, you married someone else, I'm glad.

But a poem by Agatha Christie (I'm assuming the mystery writer) changed my mind, that love could be this ineffable stream, not necessarily linked to the reality of now. That it's okay for me to still love what we had, that moment in time. Even though now, it exists outside of time. So I played really hard and fast with the rules of List Friday. These are the poems I would never want to lose. These I have searched for high and low in my apartment or from scraps of keywords in Google. If ever there was a post that would get me in trouble with the Feds, it's this one. I'll try to link to sources if I can find them.

Thursday (from First Fig and other Poems, by Edna St. Vincent Millay)

And if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?
I do not love you Thursday--
That much is true.

And why you come complaining
Is more than I can see.
I loved you Wednesday--yes--but what
Is that to me?

This poem was important to me when I was snubbed by the guy who wrote the next poem, which is no longer posted anywhere on the 'net and he would probably kill me or call me long distance from England, so I'm censoring myself. It's a poem about losing someone from your memory after you've lost them the first time. Just so you know, this post will only be "up" for today. Tomorrow I'll hide it in last week's archives.

"The Second Time" Censored.

The prose piece from the Elizabeth Goudge compilation that got me, right there:

Our moments of happiness are those when we see a burning light through the bars of our personal prison, when for some amazing reason we look out through the cracks; or perhaps by suffering with someone in charity, we leap out of the prison itself, guided by the Spirit, which has never lost its New Testament talent for walking through brick walls. The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key, that comes from time to time and unlocks the heavy doors.

--Donald Swann

(from A Book of Faith, compiled by Elizabeth Goudge, p. 291)

This image, of the prison doors opening, took me to pawing through my apartment for at least twenty to thirty minutes, for the box that held the next poem. I know not where I originally found it, only that it for me is a favorite.

"After All these Years"
(my note on the creased page, which is in pink ink--of course--says poetry lines, leading me to believe it was not set up as prose as you see it here.)
(okay, I put it in "poetry lines," but I have no idea the original source, or whether the lines as I've set them out are matched to the original poem.)

When I fantacize your kisses it rattles me,
like downing four mugs of coffee in advance of noon,
making me tremble unnervingly through the whole lunch hour.
But your real kisses,
when they come to me,
calm me like half a Valium chased with beer,
so that my convict heart stops banging its cup on the bars--
because the iron door has suddenly shuddered open,
and the guard's waving me out,
waving me out with a smile
after all these years.

(Joseph Hutchinson) (I'm assuming my link is the same guy--I have no actual proof.)

This next piece was a Christmas gift the year we each gave each other eighteen gifts. We spent Christmas day together, without family, because we worked the 24th and the 26th for Fox Books. We traveled on the 27th I think, to our respective homes. But that day was ours alone. And he gave this to me, framed. I don't like to keep mementos from past lovers so the frame is long gone. But I kept this copy. I have hidden it from myself again, each time I found it. I found it folded, among other papers. He translated it from the Greek. (Any wonder that I long to learn Greek, any wonder that I have pined after seminarians?)

And yet I show you the far superior way to take.
If I should babble in the tongues of humans and angels, but I have not love,
I have become only a clanging cymbal or a ringing bronze.
And if I should be able to interpret the divine will
and I should have all the knowledge
of what is both within human grasp and what exceeds it and I
should possess all the faith to alter a mountain,
and I have not love,
I am nothing.

Even if I should take all that I own and use it to feed the poor,
singing against my body in such a way that others would boast about it,
and I have not love,
then I am helped in no way at all.

Love is long in suffering, love is good and kind, not jealous or full of itself.
Love does not act unseemingly, it does not seek what betters itself alone,
Love is not provoked, it does not keep score against those who wrong it,
Love does not delight in the unjust, but rejoices with the truth;
Love endures everything, trusts everything, hopes everything, survives everything.
Love does not fail; but wherever there are divine interpretations,
they will be abolished; wherever humans or angels babble,
those babblings will be made to cease;
wherever there is knowledge, it will be no more.
For we know a part of the whole and we interpret a part of the whole divine will;
But when the end toward which we strive should come,
that end will abolish that part which we possess.

When I was childish, I used to babble childlishly,
I used to think in a childish way,
I used to consider as a child would; whereas I have become a man
and I have abolished those childish ways.
For even now we see in riddles through a mirror, but then face to face;
even know, I know a part of the whole,
but then I will acknowledge just as I was acknowledged.
And now, these three remain: faith, hope, and love;
And the greater of these is love.

Paul of Tarsus
1 Corinthians 13

So, now the Agatha Christie. I'll finish with that chick. I can't remember her name at the moment.

"Remembrance"

If I should leave you in the days to come--
God grant that it may not be--
But yet if so,
Your love for me must fade I know.
You will remember--and you will forget.
But oh! how imperisable--strong
My love for you shall burn and glow
Deep in your heart--your whole life long,
Unknown, unseen, but living still in bliss
So you shall bear me with you all the days.
Forget then what you will.
I died--but not my love for you,
That lives for aye--though dumb,
Remember this,
If I should ever leave you in the days to come.

(from The Book of Faith, compiled by Eliz. Goudge, p. 190)


Remember
by Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

I'll have you know that I searched high and low, hither and yon, to find this poem. Thank you to the Academy of American Poets.

Oh, how could you do a post on poetry and lost and found things without Elizabeth Bishop?


Elizabeth Bishop - One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

And now, it is beyond the time I should have driven to the North Hills to pick up the pill I generally take at 9 am, so I throw caution to the wind with two more treasures:

"Variations On The Word Love"

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.
Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.

- Margaret Atwood


"Outwitted"
by Edwin Markham

He drew a
circle that shut me
out —Heretic, rebel,
a thing to flout.
But Love and I
had the wit to win:
We drew a
circle that
took him in!

Oh, and this one. Sigh. I read this to him once after a fight. It kept us together a little longer, a few more weeks. How do you define love, anyways? It's pretty damn ineffable. So I'll finish with the Bard.

"Sonnet 116"

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

T, I lost you. May I find myself and love again, once upon a time, happily ever after, Your L.

But you must have wondered about the mysterious way small objects seem to disappear.

Nothing of great value--small things, like pencil stumps, safety pins, stamps, corks, pillboxes, needles, cotton spools--all sorts of things?" Mary Norton, The Borrowers Avenged, p. 9

List Friday--Lost and never regained items. Sponsored by Mrs. Pom. (forgive the crazy formatting...I'm losing my patience...)

Loretta already knows that I have great fun with List Friday. It just so happens that I'm trying to come up with a list for parents and children of good audiobooks for the summer (you know, for those long car rides.) AVOID Ben and Me. It's by Recorded Books and the reader is dull as a doorknob (are doorknobs dull?). But as soon as I put in The Borrowers, I listened all the way home and part of my morning commute. Which put me in mind of lost things, of course.

1. Two rings. One was a Christmas gift that year and the other I bought at a Renaissance Festival while in college. I took them off for a nap and I swear the Borrowers got them, because they were nowhere to be found later on. My mother has now gotten in the habit of giving me rings for Christmas and I need to tell her to stop. I only need one for my right hand and I have one, with three amber stones.

2. A teardrop earring. Probably on my first movie date with Daniel. We went to see Jerry Maguire and I lost my earring. I found the other one a few months ago and am glad that I lost that one, because the teardrop earrings I now own are much more stylish.

3. My watch! It's a men's watch I got at Target while in grad school. It's a men's watch b/c men's watches tend to have a second hand that is a different color from the hour and minute hands. The second hand on this watch was red. I love that watch. It's been lost since Christmas, when I got a new watch from my mom. (You don't think she got rid of my old watch...)

4. An earring that I know is under my couch, but I probably won't find it until the next time I move the couch...it's from Brazil and it has an opalescent sheen.

5. A lot of money in Internet scams. Ugh.

6. A bracelet that I bought at the Highland Park yard sale just a few weeks ago!! It is beautiful, with glass beads of multicolors.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster

(Elizabeth Bishop, "One Art")

7. Marla Kuhn. She was my friend in 5th grade, I think. She moved, or I moved. I think of looking her up every once and awhile. She was the first friend I fought with. We played Barbies by making elaborate houses "Borrower" style. A bowl was a swimming pool, books became floors or walls...

8. Sally Brown. We were best friends in fourth grade. Then, right before she moved to China, she told Troy Zepeda I liked him. We reunited in the seventh grade, when we were both living in the DC Metropolis, but after that I lost her. I'd run into her mom occasionally, who volunteered at a thrift shop I liked in Falls Church.

9. Sally Himmens. I think she wigged out when I went manic. I did get better. It's such a shame that people are so afraid of madness, however temporary.

10. Tanya Dill. I went to her wedding shower, I went to her wedding. But after that, I lost her. She never answered calls, or emails, or letters.

11. Boston...in the process of losing. I talked to her every day when she had her chemo treatments for ovarian cancer (the kind she should not have survived.) We've called each other on our birthdays every year for 17 years. There are things I wouldn't tell anyone but her.

But I can't bear to think of this beautiful day (It is GORGEOUS here in da Burgh) to only be thought of with lost things. So a few found ones...

"I once was lost, but now am found..." (John Newton, "Amazing Grace")

1. My commonplace book. It was lost for months and months in the wreck of my apartment. It has all my favorite quotes and poems, including some that I've written.
2. The earrings I'm wearing today. They are clear Brazilian crystals. I tend to take earrings off before bed and sometimes that means they get caught in the carpet. I've lost and found them about 5 times.
3. my friend Lorelei. We had a few years where we completely did not talk and then somehow one of us started back up again.
4. my other friend Sally--she was totally into the kids for a few years there, but now we talk occasionally and even go to the movies! (Yes, I attract Sallys like moths to the flame)
5. Stamps. You know, they aren't as many cents as the new ones.
6. Contact solution--two bottles. I knew I bought some.
7. Kleenex--pink. (I only buy pink.) I now have three extra boxes.

I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it.

(Pablo Picasso)

The runner up for this title quote was "Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist when he grows up." (also our friend Paul.)

So Mrs. Pom today wants us to list what unblocks us from our artistic blocks. As always, I'm playing fast and loose with the rules, so I'm including what unblocks me in general when I'm blocked, in life as well as art.

In no particular order, things that unblock me:

1. Re-reading old books. Right now I'm re-reading A Patchwork Planet by Anne Tyler. It is one of, if not her only, books that is in first person. It's a coming of age story of Barnaby G., who turns thirty by the third chapter. The book is full of dry humor, and as we read, we see Barnaby turn into a man with sufficient self worth. Barnaby is the "black sheep" of his family, working for a company that offers assistance to elderly Baltimorians. Rent-a-Back's services include escorting clients to the grocery store, helping them set up their Christmas trees, and putting out their garbage cans on trash day. Every time I re-read this book, I am struck by the wit. Such lines as, "Oh, my life was a wide-open book to half the old ladies in Baltimore," just slay me! (I guess you need more context, but this is a list of un-blockers, not a book review.) (Watching movies again and again also falls into this category.)
2. Taking a walk. As I awoke this morning at 4:15 (not by choice, mind you) one of the options available to me was an early morning walk. I generally walk five minutes out, five minutes back, routed through the Seminary near my house. Walking on the quiet grounds, looking at the historic buildings, I get my bearings back. Today I wanted to spend some time at the Union Project cafe, so I did half the walk.
3. Spending time in a cafe. There's something about being somewhere that isn't home that gets those juices flowing. Today I merely read more of my Anne Tyler book, since I had spent a lot of my creative juices earlier doing another thing that unblocks me:
4. Writing. I wrote a rather long email to Erin, one of my e-pals.
5. A deadline. When I had to create Station #(whatever it was, Jesus speaks to the Women of Jerusalem) I knew about it months in advance. I thought about it months in advance. But then I went to Baaston and then I visited my dear friend Susan and I couldn't really work on my station in either of those places. So when I returned to da Burgh, I had about a week left. I set aside two evenings, and went to town. But not before:
6. A trip to the art store. Even if you only buy a few things, just wandering around an art supply store gives ones creative juices a run for their money. I found great paper scraps and there was pastel/chalk on sale (5 cents a piece) so I was on a roll. But I was hoping for something else, I wasn't sure what, so I drove over to Joanne Fabrics. Which is where I found the linchpin of my project, the rack I used to hang my greeting cards on (The Station I created was the "Gospel in Greeting Cards," using the passage found in Luke 23:27-31, which is a very hard teaching.) (It didn't photograph well, which is why I never posted photos.) If I had not gone to Joanne Fabrics, and the wooden rack had not been on clearance, ($5!) I might have come up with an entirely different product in the end.
7. Just do it. I set up to work on the two evenings I'd set aside, and worked with what I had, made mock-ups, made the actual cards, and Voila! (Um, but it took both evenings, so don't think that #7 is the easiest part. It's just the hardest to explain, how I got creatively from point A to point B.)

Creativity isn't as hard as it might seem. I always get angry at people who say "Oh I'm not creative." Um, who dressed you this morning? You created an outfit when you picked those earrings to go with that skirt and top. I could rant on this for hours. But I won't.

A few books I've found helpful as an artist:

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. Full of writing exercises, you won't be able to read this book straight through without the itch to write!

Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, by Madeleine L'Engle. This book is more how to think about art. But it has been very helpful to me, as I think about what I consider art, and how art can transcend cultural, religious, and whatever other boundaries we might want to constrain it with.

Both of these books were gifts from my friend Lorelei and her mother. Her mother passed on recently, but her legacy in the way I think about art and creativity live on.

I live in envy of many fabulous creative bloggers. My favorite one is Il Bloggo, written by Hanna, a Swedish journalism student. I am always in awe of the work she does.

A blogger's blessing: may the keyboard rise to meet you, may the words come out in a lucid stream, may the photos download quickly, and may the spell checker not replace "blogging" with "blocking." Buena suerte! (Which is Spanish for good luck.)

The one about memes (for Memorial Day)

Now, who can see the mistake in that title? Raise your hand...yes, Babs? Meme rhymes with cream? Thank you! I can see you use your dictionary. Six? Well, that's wonderful. No, I only have two, plus a paperback Roget's.

Meme is a word that was coined by Richard Dawkins, who writes about genes. He coined it in his 1976 book, The Selfish Gene, shortening the Greek work mimeme, "something imitated."

Traveling hither and yon on the World Wide Web, (triple dub never quite caught on), I've found the word meme defined as innocuously as:

"A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another." (from the American Heritage Dictionary, linked on Answers.com.)

and as viciously as:

"a mind virus that lives in the minds of people and is spread through proselytization and other means. " (from The Christianity Meme Web Site)

Holy Toledo, Batman! I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!

So all this time, I thought a meme was something bloggers created. Turns out, memes are big!

But now that I've gotten all that research out of the way, I'd like to talk about memes in the blogging sense. A meme on a blog could be "13 on Thursday" where people list (how clever!) thirteen things on Thursday. Um. Or it could be "Show and Tell," where people post pictures on a theme (But don't tell Blackbird, she doesn't like to think she does memes.) Another popular meme at Pink Sneakers N'at is Loretta's List Friday.

Some of my favorite memes:

My own, which I made when I played fast and loose with Loretta's first List Friday.

Joke's first Meme. It's the "things you'd have to -- to understand me better) Joke's, Gina's, and Badger's and Babelbabe's.

Joke's second Meme. (He often has a lot of free time.) Go to his March archives. Scroll down to March 12. I can't find a direct link. But here are Babelbabe's and Gina's.

Memes are everywhere--it's the attack of the meme! (And I still can't make it pronounce right in my brain...) Before we looked it up on the 'net, Babs and I conjectured on what it could mean: Me-me (as in ME!). If you pronounce it wrong, it sounds like the beginning of "memory." (And a lot of memes are about reminiscing...)

So go be creative! Make up your own meme! Or find one at The Daily Meme.

Now you know.

List Friday: Summer Fifteen!

Well, this week, Loretta wants us to talk 'bout summer.

Her desire is 5/5/5: five drinks, five foods, five activities that usher in the season that is all about SUNSHINE (unless you live in Bonn, Germany, where summer means rain) (as Badger would say, ask me how I know.)

Well, y'all know by all I don't always follow directions, so I'm just going to go for what I get.

5 Drinks Songs: (I drink Iced Tea year round.....)

1. In the cool cool of the evening (HOW I LOVE THIS SONG!!!) (and being so young, I only just discovered it a year ago.)
2. Summertime (and the living is easy) (from Porgy and Bess)
3. Low Rider (featured in A Knight's Tale) (again, showing my youth...)
4. Summer Nights (from Grease)
5. Wipeout

5 Foods: (and these are all summer.) Fresh tomatoes are assumed.

1. Fresh corn on the cob
2. Watermelon (spit them pits!)
3. Italian Ice (in the category of "things I forgot to tell you," our Italian Ice guy died. So he won't be coming out this year, or ever again. *moment of silence*)
4. Chocolate: (which has its proper season: "any month whose name contains the letter A, E, or U is the proper time for chocolate"--Sandra Boynton.)
5. Potato Salad (Yes, I'll post my recipe at some point.)

5 Activities: (and these are all summer)

1. Movies at Flagstaff Hill.
2. Concerts at Hartwood Acres.
3. Summer Reading Club at the library (can you say it with me: I cannot wait until it is August and over!)
4. A visit to Sandcastle
5. A trip to the Lake (in the Poconos, with the fam.)
(6.) A graduation or a wedding. These tend to happen in the summertime...

Oh, and something to be sure to happen in the summer in Pittsburgh: in June, when we have the 3 Rivers Arts Festival, it will rain 75% of the time (or more).

(Which it is doing right now.)

List Friday graduates from college!

Well, Mrs. Pom asked for "advice for the graduate." Being my own creative self, I'm giving more than one list.

Advice/Things to avoid/Things to Do once you graduate:

1. Hug your parents. Whether you got loans or paid for it yourself or they paid, you are a product of their hard work and encouragement. Go ahead, I'll wait.
2. Back so soon? Hug them again.
3. Stay in touch with your parents. A story? So, when I graduated high school, my parents moved to Poland (yes, that country that used to be communist.) When I graduated from college, they moved to Brazil (yes, not the movie, but the place on the other side of the equator.) I didn't take it personally, but it was a little hard to keep in touch. (Time differences, costly phone bills--which they paid for or #3 would have been toast.) My dad reads at least three newspapers a day, easier now in the e-era. He would mail me articles. I would read them on the bus and think of him. I never ever thought I would be the kind of daugther that called her parents every day. And that doesn't happen overnight and not everyone is like that. But I thought at some point my parents would be irrelevant, I'd start going to Vail or the Bahamas when I got some time off, and we'd see each other at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
4. If your parents aren't around (geographically or otherwise) find some wise adults. I have so many mothers it's not even funny. The church secretary and I did Mary Kay together, ages ago and she is dear dear dear to me. We've been in Bible Studies together....anyways, a lot of stuff. I know if I need a hug before work, I can drive through Oakland and get one or two.
5. Which I guess brings me to the one that truly has saved my life: join a church. I know, you're on your own now, you want to sleep in on Sundays... Well, for me, there's a number one reason (Jesus) but even if that's not one of yours, here are the benefits: you will find those wise adults that can stand in for your parents. And if you're lucky, you'll find a priest or preacher who makes you laugh, and everyone knows that laughter is healthy, so there you go. Plus, singing. It's good for you.

Advice for the parents (SL, that list maker...)

1. If you say you'll pay for something (i.e. phone bills home or car insurance) warn them once you think they're ready to pay their way. My first job barely paid the bills and my father was in Brazil so he couldn't really understand that the only way I *was* paying my bills was that he was paying my car insurance. So after six months, he stopped. We didn't have a conversation--he just stopped. I did a major financial tailspin. TALK TO YOUR KIDS ABOUT MONEY!!!

2. Hug your kids (this is a corrollary of 1, 2, and 3, above). I mean, I didn't exactly take it personally that they moved far far away when I graduated, but graduation and re-entrance into the non-academic world (Sorry, graduates, don't read this part.) JEST AIN'T A PIECE OF PIE. It took me 2 years to find a job I liked enough to stay at longer than a year and it took a Master's Degree and a diagnosis of bipolar and three years back in the nest (yes, I know, you thought they flew the coop permanently, but life happens) for me to find a job I loved at a living wage.

3. TALK TO YOUR KIDS ABOUT CREDIT CARDS! Oh, this is crucial. They may have to learn the lesson on their own, but they will remember the conversation. It's like those commercials where they show kids and parents fishing and they say, "Talk to your kids about smoking." JUST DO IT.

4. Did I mention hug your kids? Even if you are not geographically close, send them a letter. Or an email. KEEP IN TOUCH. And connect them with extended family, if those happen to be geographically closer than you are. Heck, connect them with extended family, period. Family can save a life.

Graduates, you can open your eyes again.

A few closing thoughts:

It took me a long time to get a job I liked at a wage that didn't have me dependent on my credit cards. It took me a long time to figure out if I was still dating guys that looked like my first loser boyfriend, I might want to look into why he had such a grip hold on my heart. It took me a long time to realize that my parents sacrificed a lot for me. Be patient.

When I think back, I know that friends and family saved me. I owe a huge debt to my friends that I'll probably never be able to repay.

I hope that helps.

Oh, and one last thing: figure out early how to get to work on time. If you have to eat your breakfast in the breakroom, do it. This will pay dividends later. I gotta go wash my hair or I will be late for the staff in-service day.

Coming tomorrow: SL celebrates her blogiversary: one full year on the web, woo hoo!

I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

(Song of Solomon 2:1)

Flowers...how I love thee, let me count the ways. A memorable scene from the movie Enchanted April (it's a crime the quote isn't on their memorable quotes page on imdb.com!) (a crime, I tell you!) is where Mr. Wilkins says to his wife, Lottie, (not a direct quote):

"Flowers are the worst extravagance--they just die! Lottie, I am not a rich man. I own no bonds. What would happen if I was hit by a streetcar and you were still buying flowers?"

My favorite flowers (List Friday, courtesy of Mrs. Pom):

• Tulips. Red, then pink, then the ones that are all swirly colored.
• Roses. Red, but I'll take chocolate ones any day...
• All other flowers.

Yes, I'm that discriminating!! I have silk flowers of all types all over my apartment and when tulips are 6.99 at Whole Foods or Giant Eagle, I generally splurge. I'm partial to brown eyed Susans, which are the state flower of Maryland. So "scenic overlooks" and such are all marked by brown eyed Susans... (I refuse to call them black eyed Susans, it sounds so violent!)

Someday I hope to go to Tulip Time, which takes place in Holland, Michigan, where my parents, grandparents, and baby brother all went for college, at Hope College. (Actually, I think both my aunts started there and then transferred out.) I almost went there (who couldn't love a school whose motto is "Hope in God" from Psalm 42:5, which is a pretty depressing Psalm until you get to the end) but ended up here in da Burgh.

Gotta go (um, I'm sposed to be packing, for my weekend away, but I'll take any excuse to go shopping with Babs!) to Fox Books.

****

'mback--I got Babs to buy my favorite book (at the moment) Eat Cake. You should read it too!

I promise next week to take time with you--I've been writing on the quick this past week...

List Friday: 10 alternate career choices for Sarah Louise

Ten Jobs I’d love to have (in no particular order...) (the links are for the locales I'd apply to...)

1. Video store clerk (you get to be with all the cool movies) I'd love to work at a cool video store that had all the old classics, the ones I've had to order off Amazon 'coz no video store stocks them, like Metropolitan...
   
2. Movie theatre person (I hear you get to see movies for free). I pay good money to see movies on the big screen, multiple times. It's a thing I do...so why not get paid while doing it?
   
3. Own a children’s or used bookstore (Just like in You’ve Got Mail, without the Fox Books shuffle) As a child, I visited Cricket Books outside Olney, MD almost every Saturday.
   
4. Have a talk show (I’d model it on Ellen!) I mean, I'd get to interview Robin Williams, hug that guy that sings "You've Had a Bad Day" (I did, ::sob::)
   
5. Craftsperson/Artist (I’d have a studio…and exhibit things in galleries...) I love making things out of paper, cloth, using scissors, glue, buttons, ink...
   
6. Radio DJ on WYEP, "where the music matters." This radio station is one of the best parts of living in da Burgh. When I was in college they played acoustic/folk music for four hour stretches (less now, but they've stayed solvent, so I forgive them.)
   
7. Advertising Executive (They seem to have fun in the movies: Picture Perfect, What Women Want) In high school, one of my favorite things was making posters for our literary magazine's quarterly croissant sales. I also wrote the announcements read over the PA system.
   
8. Magazine Staffer/Editor (I have always wanted my own magazine—one of the reasons I like blogging, I’m sure) Sassy was the magazine du jour when we were in high school, and *I* was the one to first discover and then subscribe to it. It had a few good years and then went bad and then died. Alas...
   
9. Folk singer (Christine Lavin, eat your heart out!) I would love to be one of the Chenille Sisters, actually. They seem to have so much fun!
   
10. Interior Designer (I’d be the next Alexandra Stoddard!) I may have a messy apartment, but it has a quirky flair all my own. Floral things abound. Silk flowers, tastefully placed.
    

List Friday, courtesy of Pomegranates and Paper.

I luv ya, Black and Gold!: List Friday

Loretta wants to know why we love where we live. List 10 reasons. Ten, I scoff! A mere scratching of the surface of why I love this city in which I live, but here goes:

10 reasons I love living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (not in any particular order)

1. WJAS 1320 radio, WYEP 91.3 Independent Public Radio, Saturday Light Brigade on CMU radio, 2 country stations, Bob-FM: radio wasteland we are not!
2. The Primanti’s Bros. Sandwich.
3. The Open Door at the Union Project (walking distance from my house) and all the other great missional emergent churches going on in da Burgh!
4. The Pirates, The Penguins, and yes, the World Champion Steelers!
5. Hills and rivers.
6. Sandcastle: it may be 5 hours to any decent ocean beach, but the water slides and the boardwalk fries can help you imagine you’re at Atlantic City.
   
7. Highland Park, the best park in the city, walking distance from my house.
   
8. Tazza D’Oro, the best coffee shop, walking distance from my house.
   
9. Babelbabe’s house, walking distance from my house.
   
10. My lovely garret—10 years with no increase in my dirt cheap rent and a skylight, divine!

Bonus round:

1. Mr. Rogers was from here. (When I went to see the movie, Joy Luck Club, he was in the audience. I didn't see him, but a friend told me.)
2. IKEA is 45 minutes from my house.
3. The song says "I left my heart in San Francisco," but I left mine in Pittsburgh.

Oh, and the natives talk funny, n'at.