Saturday, September 15, 2007

Poetry and Life



I found the nicest thing the other day. Several years ago (1995) I was part of an artists' sale at my friend's loft. One of the artists was/is a poet and she was selling these sweet little books made of paper salvaged from a small, independent press and printed with this lovely poem. I bought one of them:


The Sky

By Amy Halloran

When Mary is sad,
I have to name the colors
of the sky myself.

She practically owns the sky,
the way she spies its shades
faster than an auctioneer
sees bids.

Before her, I swear I never
looked at the sky once.
I walked with my eyes on my business,
that is, the sidewalk,
glancing occasionally at a tree
for the source of a leaf.

Words are my colors.
I can see letters
better than I can tell vermillion from red.
I need Mary
to tell me the difference.
So when she is sad,
I am miserable.

Trying to decipher the sky,
I repeat her declarations.

Look at that lavender!
Can you believe that blue?
No one would if you drew it.
Maxfield Parrish de ja vu.

I repeat her declarations.

I fill my head with her words
so I know
what it is
I see.


Isn't that lovely? I also love what she wrote in the back of the book, "...for my friend Mary, who helps me more than a pair of glasses." That phrase just makes me happy. I'm not entirely sure why.

(The lovely Amy graciously gave permission for me to post her poem here. Please be advised that it is copyrighted - 2 permissions in one week, how about that?)




Have you ever seen that Food Network show called Dinner Impossible? A chef is given a seemingly impossible dinner to prepare (poor conditions, bad food, help with no food experience, inadequate equipment, etc.). Throughout his mission he checks in with all his help to check the dinner's progress and frequently ends up repeatedly calling out the phrase, "Nothing done? Nothing done." Well, that describes me right now. I'm working on several projects and seem to be at a standstill with every one of them. I seem to do a lot of work on something only to discover that I'm not liking the result. Do I push on? Do I scrap it and start over? Do I try to fix what I don't like? At what point am I putting too much work into one small piece. Is there such a thing as putting too much work into one small piece?


I did accomplish one small thing today. I made a small change in my "Magic and Wonder" piece and then I hung it on the wall in Rexy's room. It looks pretty cute. I was going to take a picture but forgot and now she's sleeping.


My goal is to get her room decor finished. It will be the only room in the house that is finished. Her speech therapist from school - and her teacher, too, in a couple more weeks - will be making a home visit next week. The rest of the house is its usual disaster so I'd like at least her room to be in good shape. They (SLP and teacher) are going to come and observe Rexy's therapy to get a feel for what the UW is doing. I so glad they're doing so. Rexy is much less verbal at school and they don't require her to be more verbal because they don't know what she is actually capable of. Hopefully this will make a difference.



The other school issue is that she absolutely refuses to use the potty there. On Thursday they actually called me to come down and bring her another pair of shoes after she had a big accident (there's always a change of clothes in her backpack - a preschool requirement). Oh, boy. I'm not sure how to fix this one. She was getting really good, too. Now it's like she's taken a huge step backwards. She's started having accidents at home again, as well, and I've gone back to using the timer. Hopefully this setback is only temporary.



Lastly just one for my gratitude journal again today:


1. I am grateful for Phil, my sweet husband of exactly 6 years and 4 hours.


Happy Anniversary Honey!




(Our heads look sort of spookily disembodied, don't they? My head, btw, looks nothing like that anymore. Can't do the upkeep on red hair these days, I'm back to my semi-natural dishwater blond)
Note to Amy H. - Here's your photo!

3 comments:

Manastash said...

a. Your husband looks like my husband and we have both been married 6 years and that amuses me.

b. Someone told me long ago when my difficult son was being extra difficult that when they "backslide", kids are about to take a giant leap forward. I have found that to be true. Hope it's true for you.

Sam I Am said...

awwww happy anniversary!!! what a sweet pic!!! :)

Lilly*s of London*ish said...

Love the poem. Here's a Haiku:

Tagged you on my blog.
Tell some interesting stuff.
The world is all ears.

(hee, hee, hee)

Gina