tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26169117201950169842012-01-30T23:26:09.977-05:00Fish Head SoupA little bit of everything in one pot.Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.comBlogger3821100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-15020959652707491372012-01-30T11:22:00.000-05:002012-01-30T11:22:10.310-05:00No Sugar, No Spice: Not So NiceThe Wise Woman (as I will ever after refer to my therapist) said that sugar was masking my emotions, and I wondered how much more emotional I could possibly be. I tear up several times a day while listening to my iPod, and then again in the evening while reading bedtime stories to Buckaroo and Sweet P. Cynthia Rylant's The Old Woman who Named Things gets me every damn time.
I often let my dream Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-29248736644595393252012-01-24T19:02:00.001-05:002012-01-26T19:10:36.438-05:00No Sugar Dip of Chocolatey GoodnessTomorrow will mark one week of my being sugarless. Woo hoo!
I'm trying not to replace refined sugars with naturally occurring sugars because that doesn't seem right, but I'm not being a total stickler, either. I did add a half jigger of honey to the batch of soup I brewed the other day, and I had a bottle of bubbly juice at friend's party, but nothing that's sent me into relapse so far.
HoweverPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-51568955726045137002012-01-20T16:41:00.000-05:002012-01-20T16:41:26.200-05:00Puttin' Down the CookieI've always been a little bit proud of my sugar addiction, honestly. After growing up in a family of alcoholics and addicts, sugar seemed a harmless habit, and there are so many fun ways to eat sugar.
I don't know when it began. My mother tells me that I was three when the dentist said to lay off the candy bars because they were turning my teeth into black stumps. Mom says she attempted to curb Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-22076668576964453342012-01-12T13:34:00.000-05:002012-01-12T13:34:31.195-05:00Lessons with Snow ShovelI've shoveled the entire driveway for the first time after living in New England for more than three years, and here are a few rules I've created for myself:
Never fling where you scoop. There's a similar, equally important, saying about going potty.
Shoveling in a snowstorm is a Sisyphean feat. Get zen with it or become a recluse 'til spring.
You may think you hear the snowplow coming down Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-19456432818134588342012-01-07T14:30:00.000-05:002012-01-07T14:30:38.087-05:00Update from The Woods
Hello from the land of 50 degrees in January! While my family laments that there's no fun to be had in a snowless January, I rejoice. It certainly is easier to take out the garbage, and drive, and walk without falling on my arse. This is the first January since we moved to The Woods that I have not felt like feeding myself to the bears (they're asleep, I know, but they'd find me in the spring). Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-4466379644971090662011-12-14T19:42:00.000-05:002011-12-14T19:42:39.559-05:00Who Needs a Bookstore?Buying books at Amazon is a big, fat win-win for authors and readers alike, argues to Farhad Manjoo at Slate Magazine, because books are cheaper, there's more variety, great reviews, and authors can self-publish with Amazon.
It's a surprising stance considering that the company is not only bullying authors into publishing e-books solely through Amazon, but recently, in an ugly attempt to break Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-6243847027171764732011-12-05T13:33:00.001-05:002011-12-05T13:37:47.055-05:00Nogged OffAmerica's Favorite Hometown Dairy, Garelick Farms, adds good old fashioned high fructose corn syrup to its egg nog, so that every year I'm torn between choosing local or choosing organic.
It's an insult to hardworking heifers everywhere.
I sent Garelick an email and asked the company to take the HFCS out of its nog. I know many, many mamas who'd be happy to buy local. They wrote back to say Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-58760598001961738832011-11-30T12:48:00.003-05:002011-11-30T23:21:34.466-05:00The Girl in the BoxI'm reading Shel Silverstein poems to a girl living in a cardboard box.
It all started with Buddha. I read Roland Merullo's Breakfast with Buddha, and it spoke to me so clearly about letting go of anger-- and at a particularly angry moment in my life-- that I picked up Best Buddhist Writing, 2011, in which there is a detailed meditation exercise that goes like this:
Imagine sending love to Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-90553042234415485342011-11-03T22:09:00.000-04:002011-11-03T22:09:49.003-04:00Star-Spangled Heart
I'm researching women in history and found a WWII advertisment I'd never seen. It hadn't occurred to me, but women in Japan were also being drawn into traditionally male roles during the war-- and were paid less than their male co-workers. So much in common.
It makes me wonder what I would have done if I had been an American woman in the Rosie age. Would I have felt loyal and true to the Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-78905137576440339182011-11-01T13:16:00.001-04:002011-11-01T13:16:19.486-04:00Ploughed Over
I just found out that my poem "Piece by Piece" was chosen by Nick Flynn to appear in the spring issue of Ploughshares. Would it appear terribly immature if I shouted, "Woo Hoo," and did a little happy dance?
Too late, I'm afraid.
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-34981997602230251652011-10-24T10:02:00.000-04:002011-10-24T10:02:26.451-04:00Kindergarten Conundrum
I'm working myself into a tizzy about the land of kindergarten, where Buckaroo is meant to travel one year from now. We moved to The Woods for many reasons, only one of which was better school choices, but now I find myself reminiscing with some lingering fondness over Sweet P's kindergarten days in California. She spent half days at a neighborhood school, and most parents walked their kids eachPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-57413088332760206612011-10-07T23:01:00.000-04:002011-10-07T23:01:46.115-04:00This Litte Piggy Wore Pink
I am generally a day late when it comes to the media, and sometimes also a dollar short (Hulu, please let me finish last season's Glee-- for free? I'll be your best friend.)
This is something that in hit the scene in April, but I just heard about it while catching up on my Savage Love. I can't imagine I'm the only slowus pocus in America, so I'm sharing it with you now.
In the full bloom Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-29652501465138078542011-08-27T19:08:00.001-04:002011-08-28T21:44:06.721-04:00Thimbleberry & Fungi AnniversaryOur dear babysitter concussed herself playing soccer and was not able to spend time with Buckaroo so that Honey Man and I could celebrate our anniversary with the usual comestibles and libations. We're wishing her a speedy recovery-- and not only for our own benefit.
Since the woods were wild with mushrooms after the sudden summer rains, instead of alone time with noodles and wine, we took Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-61784254248478606042011-08-10T12:35:00.000-04:002011-08-10T12:35:33.667-04:00Poem in Honor of Philip Levine's Poet Laureatedness
You Would Not Exist
If I had eaten dinner
If he had not ordered tequila
If Philip Levine had not been invited to read
If your father had not caught up with me in the hallway,
If he had not asked, If I had not said yes,
said no, my boyfriend is waiting in his truck outside
If the boyfriend had not had a meeting
If Levine had not mentioned the apple of his eye
If I had not been the apple of my Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-11850170144168987882011-08-08T23:31:00.001-04:002011-08-09T19:34:59.718-04:00Fluffernutter, Oh Right!
Buckaroo is quite a conversationalist these days, but his four-year-old topics of interest vary greatly from mine; he prefers to chat about cars, heavy machinery, and Busytown, while I . . . don't. Lately, while conversing, he'd stop me in the middle of my response and demand that I respond differently, sometimes shouting and kicking the floor in frustration.
I couldn't understand his Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-6440540046128668412011-07-12T10:16:00.000-04:002011-07-12T10:16:01.852-04:00BreakwaterMy poem, "Chico, September" is in the current issue of Breakwater Review. Check it out!Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-35657139316640884762011-04-08T13:02:00.002-04:002011-04-08T14:00:40.198-04:00Poem #8 Now for Something Completely Different
How Does a Dinosaur Brush his Teeth
(with huge thanks to Jane Yolen)
How does a dinosaur brush all his teeth?
Does he run from the sink,
and give his mom grief?
Does he clamp his mouth shut,
paint the mirror with paste?
Does he yank at hand towels
to cover his face?
How does a dinosaur
handle the floss?
Does he shout,
“Stand back, Dad! I am the boss!”?
Does he break the Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-36848620577847687132011-04-07T21:27:00.001-04:002011-04-07T21:38:20.642-04:00Poem #7
African Mother Carrying Her Child (Wikimedia Commons)
what thirty american dollars will buy
five dark godiva tulips
obwisana sa na na
one hundred lindor truffles
the rock it crushed my hand, grandma
two harry & david bunnies
obwisana sa
one ghanaian boy, age twelve
the rock it crushed my hand
one thousand bitter kisses
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-80286718697968568032011-03-30T10:40:00.000-04:002011-03-30T10:40:28.339-04:00A Bright Month of Poetry
The Poem, Frederico Andreotti
(courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)
April is National Poetry Month, y'all. How do you plan to celebrate? I intend to take up the poem-a-day challenge and post my raw scraps and snippets right here on my bloggity blog. I just hope to keep up as it is also the month of the bunny as well as Buckaroo's Diggity Doggity Dinosaur Birthday.
But the goal here is quantity, Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-76551279940038063092011-03-28T10:46:00.001-04:002011-03-28T10:48:40.401-04:00Spindled ReviewCheck out my review of Jacqueline West's first book of poetry, Cherma.
One tidbit I neglected to mention in my review: My female college classmates and I were instructed that we should never consider writing children's books if we wanted to be taken seriously as poets. It turns out that women in many different fields of study were given the same warning: you won't be respected if you choose to Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-78505033109933162602011-03-17T22:24:00.000-04:002011-03-17T22:24:41.254-04:00A Walk at Winter's EndWelcome to my neighborhood.
I hope you brought boots.
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-21373885186204789372011-03-16T21:41:00.000-04:002011-03-16T21:41:49.109-04:00Back StoryRose and Thorn created a cool new section called Back Story where authors talk about their inspiration or writing process. Here's my post about writing the poem, "Problem Solving."
So kind of them to ask me to participate.Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-62389565265133596472011-03-09T23:15:00.000-05:002011-03-09T23:15:58.540-05:00Stoked with SmokeThe Smoking Poet is out, and I'm in it with some fabulous folks. Take a gander-- or a goose. Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-32120028434178779162011-03-07T10:14:00.000-05:002011-03-07T10:14:42.241-05:00March Melt
The rain rattled the house all night, washing the snow lakeward, and in the morning I lifted Buckaroo to the window so he could see the bare, bashful patches of dirt, leaves, and acorn caps. He announced, "Spring is coming," and I said, "Let it be so."
Daughter, Walking Ahead
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-41354359031394293632011-02-25T17:04:00.000-05:002011-02-25T17:04:27.038-05:00Getting It DoneI have a tiny job, a minuscule thing really. Also, I edit fiction and write reviews for an online journal. I read, blog, write poetry, research, edit, revise, submit-- or at least those are things I'd like to do on a regular basis. Oh, and I'm a stay-at-home mom, but maybe I should have mentioned that first.
Hold on, I have to break from writing because my preschooler wants cinnamon untoasted.
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-64570958006497777832011-02-05T16:23:00.000-05:002011-02-05T16:23:23.855-05:00Phoetry (Photo + Poetry) Project #2To read the second poem in my poetry project at the Fitchburg UU site, click here. This poem was inspired by the albatross photographs from Midway Journey (see previous post).
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-62050143284834410802011-01-31T11:30:00.003-05:002011-01-31T21:19:50.416-05:00In the Belly of the Albatross"We’ve come to make sense of this embrace
to see the shapes of ourselves in these birds"
--Victoria Sloan Jordan
The Great American Garbage Patch-- it almost sounds quaint, doesn't it? As if it might be a junk pile on the back acre of grandpa's farm where one could find and re-purpose a rusty old wagon or a two-wheeled tricycle.
The name Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-52432555095122399332011-01-28T13:17:00.000-05:002011-01-28T13:17:31.883-05:00Winter Blahs
Most days, it's hard for me to get out of bed, not because I'm old and feeble but because I feel tremendous sadness in the morning. I'm usually able to shake it by the time I've slid Buckaroo's bowl of oatmeal across the table, but some days not.
I know what I need: exercise, poetry, a dose of love, vitamin D, maybe a smidge of therapy, and warm makes-ya-happy-to-be-alive sunshine. The latter Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-19103749305927403292011-01-25T11:19:00.001-05:002011-01-27T09:08:44.705-05:00The Great Bedroom Switcheroo Whenever Honey Man (as I've decided to re-title R) stresses about our finances, Frog Mama tells me to remind him that one must let go of money so that it may go forth and multiply and return bigger and better-- or something like that.
Actually, I've never passed that tidbit of wisdom on to Honey Man as I'm afraid he'll snarl at me, but this weekend we put that lesson into practice in a Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-21319973881189367252011-01-20T23:11:00.001-05:002011-01-20T23:11:58.328-05:00The Honey Man TastethThe Bee Man gave R a dead hive to dissect and examine, explore and tidy. Here, R is scraping at the capped honey so we three greedy bears might have a sample. Not too shabby.
Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-58410443954917675222011-01-19T22:13:00.001-05:002011-01-19T22:14:23.421-05:00Wintery MixI wish that a wintery mix were some Chex-like snack with white chocolate morsels and raisins. It is not, much to my dismay, and if it were I've had enough of it to become quite plump with the stuff. It's been a week of snow, sleet, rain, ice, and every variation here in The Woods, and January is slinking by in its slothy way.
I often find myself enjoying nearly erotic fantasies about the SF Bay Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-25411696113845470112011-01-18T22:19:00.000-05:002011-01-18T22:19:27.945-05:00Phoetry (Photo + Poetry) Project #1I've started a new project at the Fitchburg UU site. Check it out by clicking your mouse here.Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-15336453779126669792011-01-16T18:00:00.000-05:002011-01-16T18:00:29.352-05:00Rosie Posie, Take III got a little ahead of myself before when I posted the link to my poems in Rose and Thorn, so now, without further hullaballoo, here is the entire Winter Issue of Rose and Thorn. Enjoy!Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-71486753898842175782011-01-13T11:51:00.000-05:002011-01-13T11:51:20.085-05:00Life without FacebookI have several thousand New Year's resolutions, but the grandaddy of all my resolutions is that I'll spend more time writing poetry and fiction instead of status updates, sending submissions instead of friend requests. I have a new policy whereas I allow myself to visit the site only on Fridays.
I've been at it three weeks now-- I like to get a jumpstart on resolutions-- and the result is . . . Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-89353821416905794382010-12-31T11:50:00.001-05:002011-01-01T19:43:18.185-05:00Family Phrases of 2010I feel obliged to join in the end of the year summing up, so here are our most oft repeated phrases of 2010 (I'll leave it to you to figure out whom said which):
"Did you lose the mail?"
"Please put your flat iron away."
"Come wipe my tushie!"
"Did you see on Facebook . . ."
"Come say your thankfuls."
"Please keep your saliva in your mouth."
"Who tooted?"
"Have you washed my jeans?"
"DoPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-50327610974355323162010-12-27T13:13:00.004-05:002010-12-27T13:22:04.008-05:00Christmas Eve EnlightenmentHere's a little Christmas posty I wrote for First Parish in Fitchburg. Merry Happy, one and all!Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-7910762595707914632010-12-27T10:23:00.009-05:002010-12-27T10:52:15.873-05:00Snow TripThe lake is frozen, which I will always find baffling, but as all the neighbors were skating away joyfully out there I could hardly refuse to allow the children their slide across the ice. We trekked to the islands yesterday just before the blizzard was upon us. I didn't last long in the frost, even with my several layers. Self-Portrait with Ice I blurred out Buckaroo's boogy nose and eyes. He'sPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-3433137600322227152010-12-26T21:02:00.004-05:002010-12-26T22:07:10.588-05:00Letter Home #1I began this blog as a way to keep our California peeps up to date with all the news from The Woods, and I've been remiss in that endeavor of late. So here's the latest and greatest from the Fish Head family: R fears he's become the guy who talks obsessively about one subject; namely, bees. Yet, he can't help himself because bees are so darn fascinating. He did read, however, that a beekeeper is Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-64536094950876804322010-12-21T21:33:00.001-05:002010-12-21T21:35:14.238-05:00SpindledThe latest issue of Prick of the Spindle is up! Check out my review of Alexandria Ashford's Danke Schoen.Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-75911608378242970472010-12-19T22:20:00.002-05:002010-12-19T22:28:48.044-05:00HissI know this looks like a photo of Buckaroo making the "naah naah nah naah naah" face, but he's actually showing me his cobra yoga pose. And that boy can downward dog like nobody's business. Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-75991084594303264042010-12-11T23:35:00.011-05:002010-12-12T00:29:59.428-05:00Brattleboro Boogie My dad was the king of the road trip, and so I guess that makes me Princess Road Trip. R did not always share my fondness for a long car ride with scowly-faced children and Raffi radio. I can't think why. But now that's all changed because R wants to visit the farms, and today we drove all the way to Brattleboro Vermont to see a man about a pepper-- in fact a whole pack of peppers. While we werePatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-41672180823203023472010-12-06T10:16:00.004-05:002010-12-06T11:15:56.807-05:00My Honey Loves Him Some HoneyR fell in love with the bees. I'm not sure when it happened. His interests have roamed through mushroom growing, cider brewing, chainsaw wielding, egg laying, gourd drumming, and bulb planting. He's not flighty, as he's still interested in all of these activities and has them in the works as well, but he's suddenly become an apprentice bee keeper. A couple of years ago I wrote a blog post about Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-68194307816563897822010-10-26T14:25:00.003-04:002010-10-28T20:12:42.860-04:00The Ache to be WorthyWhen I told my mom I was giving a testimonial of faith at the Unitarian church she said, "I don't like to tell people what I believe because I'm afraid they'll try to change my mind." I feel that way, too. But the great thing about the Unitarian church is that we all sort of agree that faith is a constant journey of discovery, and it's OK to have different ideas, as long as they include love and Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-35406170485849519892010-10-19T09:33:00.002-04:002010-10-19T10:37:59.865-04:00Eat, Prey, LeaveLast night Sparkle Mama, FMF, and I journeyed to a little second-run movie theater in Clinton for a much needed evening of Eat Pray Love. Say what you like about Julia Roberts; she has kind eyes. We stopped for a quick bite of pizza, and Sparkle guzzled her beer so we wouldn't be late for the previews. I have to say that I really enjoy the previews and often use them as a way to gauge the movie Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-6367230358703601752010-10-17T09:01:00.000-04:002010-10-17T19:24:39.414-04:00Of Marriage and MushroomsThe card R painted and gave me for our fifth wedding anniversaryOne day, long before I knew R existed in the world, I was expressing to a friend my flabberghastedness at the idea that two people could remain committed, monogamous, for decades upon decades because at the time most of my relationships spanned about three months.Lately, I've thought a lot about her response: "I asked my grandfatherPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-88111827312487151612010-10-15T17:04:00.004-04:002010-10-16T09:47:36.192-04:00It Gets BetterI thought I was shouting about the "It Gets Better" project every where I went, but then R said, "I just heard Dan Savage on All Things Considered talking about this new project. . . " and I realized I hadn't even mentioned it to my very own husband. So, here it is! Check it out:I've heard some criticism that it doesn't solve the problem. No, it doesn't, but sometimes change comes one baby step Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-31845525367180505602010-10-02T20:10:00.003-04:002010-10-04T18:14:08.429-04:00"Forever" and Ever, AmenIf you are the one person left in the world not familiar with Judy Blume's Forever, let me tell you a little bit about it: Katherine and Michael are seniors in high school. They date, they make-out, and *spoiler alert* eventually they have sex, which, I suppose, is why there are so many attempts have the book banned from libraries all over the country. I speak as the mother of a teen when I say IPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-29335580479141510972010-09-13T20:35:00.004-04:002010-09-13T23:00:45.592-04:00At Long Last, the Farmer's MarketToday was my first trip to a New England farmer's market. Yep, it's taken more than two years to get myself there, although I do frequent my neighbor's farm stand. And it turns out that, at least on this blustery day, our little, local farmer's market was about the equivalent of my neighbor's roadside hut.I know I've rattled on about my love of sidewalk wandering in Alameda, perusing the downtownPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-72698770314291269142010-09-03T09:35:00.002-04:002010-09-03T09:38:11.148-04:00Missing: OboPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-23037157126114565972010-08-31T23:09:00.002-04:002010-08-31T23:24:21.853-04:00For the Lurve of Birch The downside of Ball Hill Trail in Leominster State Forest is where you can smell the town dump, so that's unfortunate, but the upside is where the mushrooms grow. R is becoming a mushroom connoisseur, and while he promises never to eat them, we spend a goodly amount of time inspecting and photographing fungi. We took Buckaroo for a few hikes last weekend as it's becoming our new favorite Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-83956349732565818182010-08-17T21:35:00.002-04:002010-08-17T23:09:15.689-04:00Buckaroo's SongBuckaroo and I are reading the complete tales of Winnie the Pooh. Buckaroo likes Pooh's songs best, so yesterday as Buckaroo began to nod off in the car during the long trek home from Sparkle Mama's house, I asked him to make up a song with me-- nap time interferes with bed time these days. I was trying to encourage rhyming, so it goes a little something like this:One Two ThreeI'm busy as a Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-11830682256016553482010-08-11T12:41:00.005-04:002010-08-11T20:26:02.321-04:00Then Again, Maybe I WillI've mentioned somewhere in this bloggity world that Judy Blume's book Deenie changed my life, turned me into a reader of chapter books. What I didn't remember about that time, until recently, is that after reading Deenie I set out to read more Blume books and checked out Then Again, Maybe I Won't from the library. I never finished the book, but not because I didn't like it. I was twelve-ish. I Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-39474675071455950182010-08-06T23:24:00.004-04:002010-08-07T21:20:39.200-04:00Figgy the Singing SquirrelI wish I could be funny in my poetry, but I tend to take myself way too seriously. The funny factor is probably what I admire most about Billy Collins's poetry. I just found this poem in the Spring 2010 issue of Poetry East.PalermoIt was foolish of us to leave our room.The empty plaza was shimmering.The clock looked ready to melt.The heat was a mallet striking a balland sending it bouncing into Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-35409703107049994072010-08-05T22:48:00.002-04:002010-08-05T23:04:25.284-04:00Old GoodiesWhile sorting through some poems, trying to spiff up my old manuscript and possibly pull together a new one, I discovered a pack of poems I wrote in college. They're fairly lousy, but I love this one. It certainly doesn't foreshadow any great writing career, but I love it mostly because I'm so much further away from sixteen now than I was when I wrote it, and now I have teenage children of my ownPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-7740780834325841312010-08-03T16:41:00.002-04:002010-08-03T18:46:54.436-04:00Summer Sundries Here's an update on the fam for the folks in California. I'll try not to sound too much like a Christmas letter.We took Obo and Sweet P to the airport yesterday, and they flew off in opposite directions. It's hard to watch them say goodbye. After a month of being nearly inseparable, singing Lady Ga Ga and Taylor Swift tunes at top volume and whisper-giggling at any phrase remotely resembling Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-89599028016450052632010-08-01T00:57:00.003-04:002010-08-03T11:13:33.557-04:00Leave Your Misogyny on the PorchEvery year on Fourth of July the neighbors around our lake have a fantastic fireworks competition. They begin lighting off whoozles and hoolyboppers long before sunset and goad each other by shouting jovial insults across the water. The friendly rivalry results in a lovely display for those of us too cheap or law-abiding to provide our own pyrotechnics. This year as R navigated our boat through Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-53256338233723576012010-06-20T22:33:00.003-04:002010-06-20T22:36:08.375-04:00SpindledI helped edit the fiction for the most recent edition of Prick of the Spindle. Plus, my review is up, too. Check it out here.Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-2593586852444784532010-06-08T12:55:00.009-04:002010-06-09T13:38:46.054-04:00ImpoundedI've been reading Impounded: Dorothea Lange and the Censored Images of Japanese American Internment edited by Linda Gordon and Gary Y. Okihiro. The book contains more than a hundred photos Lange took before and during the Japanese internment.There are so many moving images in this book I don't even know where to begin, but there are two images in particular that stick with me. The first is the Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-44227243280954649432010-06-03T10:27:00.011-04:002010-06-08T10:13:15.646-04:00Joan Chittister: Spunky Revisionist"The important thing to remember is that religion itself is meant to be only a means to sanctity, not an end in itself. Religion is at best a finger pointing at the moon." -- Joan ChittisterI'm not Catholic, and I struggle to find common ground with the Catholic Church, but I do love a feisty woman, and Sister Joan Chittister is nothing if not spunky. You know the Laurel Thatcher Ulrich quote, "Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-10618087729395715522010-06-02T21:10:00.004-04:002010-06-02T22:00:42.930-04:00Michael Perry: Ladies' ManI don't mean to say that Michael Perry is chasing the ladies, rather, that he's a writer women (or women like me) would enjoy reading. I've mentioned that I have trouble reading books written by men because they sometimes, not always, on occasion, sound like they're trying to prove themselves. You don't have to prove anything to me, Mister. I know. I know. It's a huge generalization, and women Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-39511785393180956892010-05-28T23:01:00.004-04:002010-06-01T10:46:30.708-04:00Becoming the Kite: My June ChallengeIf you've spent any time reading this blog, you've probably noticed that I talk about myself probably more than is polite or healthy, and so I have to say a big fat THANK YOU if you've kept reading. Now I'm going to talk about myself just a little bit more, and then I promise to stop-- at least for a spell. June holds the day my dad died, and then two seconds later it's Father's Day which wasn't Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-19533245209241000252010-05-27T09:39:00.009-04:002010-05-27T14:08:04.230-04:00Sibling Loneliness or Parenting Against the PastAt times it's easy to forget there are ten years between Buckaroo and Sweet P. I'm thinking in particular about when they squabble over the TV, but there are good moments, too, the times when Buckaroo plays fireman and Sweet P runs around the house pretending to be on fire. It's a morbid little game, but they race with screaming giggles, which is a good sound to hear while I make dinner. Right Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-60758427572934617482010-05-21T09:55:00.007-04:002010-05-21T10:26:38.473-04:00Twelve Slightly Useless Lessons from the GardenThere are snakes out there. Don't kill the snakes, People! They are good and helpful creatures. R took this photo on his hike up the hill last weekend.Here are a few other things I've learned while trying to become one with the earth:1. One person's weed is another person's flower. 2. Beautiful things can grow in really bad soil and a lot of rocks.3. Some plants really do return after the snow Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-38940168004021021972010-05-12T01:33:00.002-04:002010-05-12T02:08:40.764-04:00Mullet: It's Not Just a Bad Hair Cut AnymoreOur lake has a tiny concrete dam at one end where the water splashes over, runs through a pipe under the road, and flows downstream to our neighbor's pond. Throughout all of April there were fish swarming the dam, crammed in belly to belly, and it was very stressful to watch because the fish would get so close to the precipice that their tails would dangle in the air. I held my breath waiting forPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-80093414735871608412010-04-06T12:09:00.004-04:002010-04-15T13:13:38.614-04:00So Long, MickI have intended for some time to post a few of my favorite things, and I haven't, but this is a good opportunity to mention two of them: the New Yorker fiction podcast and PRI Selected Shorts podcast. I download them from iTunes, listen in the car, and it makes the journey seem much shorter, which is a good thing because it takes ages to get anywhere from our spot in The Woods. When I mentioned Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-71670859635619372072010-04-05T14:38:00.002-04:002010-04-05T14:41:53.967-04:00Part XIII-b--Ingrid and Carey doze for a while, damp, blanketless and pasted with feathers. She wakes briefly, remembering Billy Crystal’s line from When Harry Met Sally—“I took her to a place that wasn’t human. She actually meowed.”She meows once, very softly. “Hm?” Carey asks from a dream, then snorts once and breathes rhythmically.She pulls the sheet over them and sleeps.--Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-45100122733025247682010-03-18T21:57:00.005-04:002010-03-20T12:51:01.515-04:00I Can Bring Up the Babies & Blog About Them, TooOn March 12, the New York Times ran an article by Jennifer Mendelsohn titled, "Honey, Don't Bother Mommy. I'm Too Busy Building My Brand." While the headline accuses blogging mothers of neglecting their children in order to write, I know that journalists don't often create their own headlines and decided to overlook it. While the article was snarky and condescending, it wasn't evil. Writing aboutPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-2514175772297258942010-03-16T10:23:00.004-04:002010-03-20T12:52:08.290-04:00The Not Good EnoughsHave you met the Not Good Enoughs? They are a large family, and some of them live in my brain. I'm guessing they're camped in the back right curve of my skull where it always feels like I've slept on my ponytail. There's Not Good Enough Mother, Not Good Enough Writer, Not Good Enough Wife, Not Good Enough Daughter. I could go on. Often their cousin Not Smart Enough visits for an undetermined Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-91002517516815100832010-03-15T20:01:00.002-04:002010-03-15T21:18:51.316-04:00Movie ChatterWhen Sparkle Mama and I agreed to meet for a Friday night showing of Alice in Wonderland, it didn't occur to me that the theater would be sardine-packed with teenie boppers. It's probably wrong of me, but I tend to be nervous about viewing a movie with young people because they are, at times, noisy and texty. I don't mind sitting through a cartoon with a bunch of chattering children. I expect Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-4693196337049828712010-03-15T18:38:00.002-04:002010-03-15T18:41:32.304-04:00Fiction for DessertI re-worked an excerpt from my long/short story for Fiction for Dessert's flash fiction contest. It was a really good exercise in cutting out the fat. Don't fret, more on that story coming soon-- or maybe you're all hoping that was the end? In any case, I'm working on it. http://www.fictionfordessert.blogspot.comCheck it out!Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-79032980834914175692010-03-14T17:17:00.005-04:002010-03-14T18:53:49.547-04:00Alice in UnderlandDid you know that Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton are domestic partners? You probably did. But did you know that they live in adjoining houses with an attached door because they don't think they could live in the same house (according to Wiki)? I guess that makes them neighbors more than domestic partners. They do have two children together, though. Sometimes that happens with neighbors. JustPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-75487216625752619672010-03-10T19:41:00.012-05:002010-03-10T22:59:45.050-05:00Spies, Blue Bloods, and Japanese KittensWe now interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you this announcement:Sweet P just finished the third in a series of teen spy books by Ally Carter. The first is titled, I'd Tell You I Love You but then I'd Have to Kill You. When I asked if they were anything like Harriet the Spy, Sweet P tried to conceal her eye-rolling. "I like how she describes, like, spy gadgets and stuff," Sweet P Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-36355200927342808752010-02-17T21:11:00.003-05:002010-03-10T23:03:04.771-05:00Worcester MagazineIf you've not yet heard me blabbing on about this, my poem "Bargain" is now in Worcester Magazine, along with a very edgy photo of me. HA! I'm about as edgy as a marshmallow.Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-67634098858839218132010-02-17T20:58:00.003-05:002010-02-17T21:11:08.955-05:00AnalyticsJust a quickie:I have this handy dandy little analysis tool that tells me who's reading my blog. Well, it protects the names of the innocent, but it gives an overview of where people live and what brought them to my blog. The part I like best is that if someone types a few words into google search and then clicks on my blog, it tells me what the words were. What I have discovered is that people Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-49885550308421348972010-02-16T11:46:00.005-05:002010-02-16T12:30:50.530-05:00The Frost is HeavingIf you've ever been on The Matterhorn at Disney, you know how it feels to drive the road we take into town. Both give me that fresh "is there a chiropractor in the house?" feeling at the ride's end. Sometimes I worry that we're all going to smack our heads on the roof of the car on the occasion that I fail to avoid a pothole. Of course, avoiding potholes often means steering into oncoming trafficPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-69471583313863106562010-02-15T11:09:00.008-05:002010-03-10T23:04:08.024-05:00The Dish on WaterR and I are looking to replace a couple of appliances (yay, tax refund!) and save some water. The bummer is that none of the salespeople really know anything about how much water a dishwasher uses. We can't possibly be the only people asking this question. Grateful Mama suggested the ASKO dishwasher because it uses about two teaspoons of water per wash, but getting our hands on one seems a bit Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-30476971317035267502010-02-13T10:41:00.003-05:002010-03-10T23:04:36.794-05:00The Funny GeneR took a small break from his nasty flu-ness last night so we could watch a movie, The Love Guru with Mike Myers, and unfortunately I spent most of it thinking that I'd rather be reading my book. R, however, spent most of the movie watching me and asking, "You didn't think that was funny?" So then I was having flashbacks of when Sweet P's dad and I split up and he said he couldn't wait to Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-18585246773170062242010-02-11T16:45:00.002-05:002010-02-11T17:08:55.289-05:00Sweet Potato Goes TeenSweet P turned into a teenager yesterday: 13.Every time I see a recent picture of my girl I think, she looks so grown up, but a few years (sometimes months) later, I look at the same picture and think, she looks like a little girl. The days are long, but the years are short. I don't know where that phrase originates but, shew. So, I'm trying to look at Sweet P in photos and in real life and not Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-61080511003458159982010-02-02T09:39:00.004-05:002011-11-21T10:45:58.087-05:00Shel & Me
With thanks to Monkey Girl for inspiring this post.
Nana Pat and Papa James gave me Where the Sidewalk Ends for my 10th birthday, and from that day forward I knew I wanted to be a poet. I quickly memorized nearly the entire book and at the slightest provocation, I would recite any one of those poems to whomever was nearest. In fact, I'm sure I became a bit of a pest to those who didn't share Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-1915423893800050822010-01-31T13:21:00.004-05:002010-02-09T15:45:28.366-05:00Smoke by SeasonThanks for the comments!Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-51086756353203014262010-01-23T12:17:00.004-05:002010-01-28T12:37:53.340-05:00When Fog FreezesOne morning last winter I woke very early, bundled Buckaroo, leashed the dog, and headed to the great outdoors where I discovered frosty particles dangling from every surface. It was the kind of beauty that made me reconsider my harsh feelings toward winter. Because I am usually a late sleeper-inner, I thought I was daily dozing through this incredible spectacle (and was hoping to capture it withPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-90525652608591155522010-01-21T21:12:00.002-05:002010-01-21T21:24:05.576-05:00Guerilla StorytimeI'm gearing up to implement Phase 1 of Guerrilla Story Time. I'm not sure what Phase 2 might entail, but Phase 1 involves reading stories to Buckaroo in public places where small children are hanging out. The problem is that so far I've only come up with the laundromat as a possible reading spot. I suppose fast food joints might work, but then-- must we have to eat the food? They must be places Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-47856579884857212082010-01-20T23:50:00.001-05:002010-01-31T13:20:52.309-05:00January PoemThanks for your comments!Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-17394962945857362422010-01-15T09:42:00.000-05:002010-01-18T17:25:07.326-05:00Retrenching/In Another LightBuckaroo playing drums in music classI've been complaining a lot lately-- not just complaining, actually: whining. I keep apologizing to the friends who graciously listen to me again and again, but then I catch myself starting back up. A couple of weeks ago I started to write a new post about how frustrated I am that we're cutting back some of our expenses-- the kids' classes, our grocery bill, Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-1916249921268919452010-01-05T19:23:00.000-05:002010-01-05T21:21:51.471-05:00Feeding the FireR's hands are cracked and red and raw. They often burn and sometimes bleed. It's because of the firewood. We didn't get our firewood in the house before the snow arrived. I say "we," but I didn't help at all, which is probably why it didn't get finished. So R digs under the snow every day, loads another pile of frozen wood into the wheel barrow and hauls it into the basement to dry. It doesn't Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-24845915251958375632010-01-04T22:08:00.000-05:002010-01-05T19:23:02.485-05:00SfogliatellaR and I took the kids to the North End last snowy Saturday for lunch and pastries. We went to Mike's Pastries on Hanover Street because we'd heard (separately) that it was the place to go. They had a huge selection of baked goods, and it was fun to watch them wrap the box in string, but my carrot cake frosting was a tad too sweet-- in fact, I'm not sure it was cream cheese at all. My friend Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-19517244848072473632010-01-03T22:59:00.000-05:002010-01-03T23:32:52.535-05:00A Few More Words about WinterWell we have officially arrived at winter, and I console myself with the thought that every day brings a little more light. I moan about the cold more than I should, probably, because winter sans ice storm is really so incredibly much better than winter avec ice storm. My knuckles are tapping wood as I write this. Here are a few more things I'm learning to love:Sledding: We took the kiddies Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-75130654582812174002010-01-01T19:19:00.000-05:002010-01-02T04:43:02.453-05:00A Whole New YearI struggle to stay in the moment. I tend to want to look backward (with regret) or forward (with anxiety) instead of enjoying where I am, and I'm really working on that. At the same time there's a lot of reminiscing happening around here-- everyone talking about where they were at the turn of the last decade. The first time someone asked me that question my immediate response was, "I don't reallyPatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-26060234332011848022009-12-30T16:02:00.001-05:002009-12-31T15:32:04.558-05:00Her California CousinSweet P and her cousin have known each other since birth. They are not first cousins (and I could tell you how exactly they are related, but it'll hurt your brain), but they were born four months apart. As toddlers they lived less than a mile apart and could pronounce only the vowels in each other's names-- no one else knew of whom they spoke-- and spent most of their time taking toys from each Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-79134986419787408292009-12-27T23:06:00.000-05:002009-12-28T13:49:24.758-05:00A Change of DreamMy friend Reggae Mama and her family moved to The Woods from the Bay Area just a few months before we did. She recently told her husband that she wants to buy a house now. She's ready to have two feet planted on the East Coast instead of straddling the country with one foot in California. I know I have one heavy foot in California, but I'm not sure how to drag it out this way-- or even how to Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-81470512410716420642009-12-17T21:45:00.000-05:002009-12-17T22:46:48.574-05:00Rocky the Red-Nosed FroggieEach night after Buckaroo and I read stories, turn off the light and tuck in, he asks me to make up a story, and then he gives me the subject. Usually the stories involve him and his best little buddy riding a roller coaster. I attempt to make the stories as brief as possible as the goal is to get Buckaroo to nod off. Sometimes I get wrapped up in the adventure of it and forget I'm trying to get Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-3198555872220270862009-12-06T20:02:00.000-05:002009-12-06T20:48:32.903-05:00Spray-O-MaticI wonder if the progression of one's perfume choice says something about her. Here's mine:1. Love's Baby Soft2. Stetson (I know, it's men's cologne. I wore it anyway).3. Obsession4. Tresor5. Truth6. Now I'm lucky if I remember to wear deodorant (or everyone else is lucky). Also, I've become aware of other people's scent sensitivities, so if I wear perfume I have guilt. My friend Sparkle Mama (Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-63377469396903954462009-12-02T22:49:00.000-05:002009-12-03T18:19:47.020-05:00Good Day, SunshineI've had a string of dark days, and today was a day of pulling myself out of the muck. As a get-out-of-bed motivator, I decided to make a photo journal: One Day of Life in The Woods. 6:50 a.m.: Sweet P plops Buckaroo into my bed, and I grab the camera. R is long since out the door. 7:15 a.m.: Sweet P leaves for school-- without a coat or mittens despite the 28 degrees outside. She did toss a hat Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-32704249832536436702009-11-20T11:15:00.000-05:002009-11-20T17:20:12.467-05:00What Would Scout Do?I was baffled by Publisher Weekly's choice to exclude books by women from their "Best of 2009" list, but as I mentioned I couldn't really argue with them since I hadn't done the reading. Now the National Book Award people have announced their top 2009 picks, and again, no women. Odd. They did, however, give Flannery O'Connor a "Best of the National Book Awards" award. Meanwhile, Kamy Wicoff, Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-12710138984472149392009-11-16T15:17:00.001-05:002009-11-18T17:27:36.733-05:00The Birthday MonsterYou may remember Buckaroo's poem from a few posts back. The FMF added an illustration of her own and turned it into something like a page out of a children's book-- just for me on my dirtday. I told her I'd never before had a birthday prezzie that made me cry. I must be getting smooshy in my old age. And I was so worried there would be a dearth of friendship in The Woods. And just because I'm Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-45922497919092489802009-11-14T17:14:00.000-05:002009-11-25T19:21:55.830-05:00The Subjective TenPublisher's Weekly created a list of the top 2009 books, and there's a lot of uproar about it because their top ten includes nary a woman. My initial reaction was, "Really? Not one woman? I'm dubious." Then again, I don't really prefer to read books by men-- just check out my "Quite Incomplete List of Favorite Books." I could say more about this, but I'd probably just manage to insult a lot of Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-74948017239229686862009-11-09T08:45:00.000-05:002009-11-09T09:44:46.739-05:00Our Buddhist HeartsIn my quest to chill myself out, I'm reading Awakening the Buddhist Heart by Lama Surya Das. I haven't even finished the first chapter-- I'm a bit of a slow non-fiction reader-- but I found this interesting tidbit you probably already knew: "According to Tibetan Buddhism we have each had so many births that in all probability our paths have crossed time and time again. Wondrously connected to onePatricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-71776638161751276172009-11-05T23:34:00.000-05:002009-11-06T00:55:42.912-05:00Pass the Peas, LoverTwo Peas in the LeavesI always considered the word lover a kind of secret word, meant to be whispered in an ear or repeated behind a closed door, the kind of word only spoken aloud by characters in novels-- racy novels.Then during college I was having dinner at my friend G's house one evening, when G's mom turned to G's dad and said, "Please pass the peas, Lover." I nearly choked on my chicken Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-21041623351902127372009-10-28T10:43:00.000-04:002009-11-05T00:01:16.024-05:00Tall Girl with HorseSweet P had her first riding lesson yesterday, and I swear when we pulled up to the stable there was a red wheelbarrow beside some chickens. I took it as a good omen, and tried to get a photo but forgot an essential component of the camera. Today I bet the wheelbarrow is even glazed with rain. Sweet P rode a lazy white, blue-eyed horse named da Vinci-- I guess he doesn't take much after his Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2616911720195016984.post-38193974718854288042009-10-26T22:30:00.001-04:002009-10-26T22:56:35.763-04:00Take-OutIn general I try not to be snobby about my California ways. It's not helpful, and it's certainly not going to win me any friends, but here's where I probably cross the line: chow mein. In California, chow mein is a delicious dish with noodles. Well, of course, all of you west-coasters are thinking. Mein means noodle, doesn't it?Maybe, maybe not. Out here in New England an order of chow mein will Patricia Caspershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17048071609997739569noreply@blogger.com2