Mr. Popper's Penguins

We just got back from the Bookworms Club, a chapter book reading club which meets every week at the public library. Last fall we, or rather Jimmy, attended the picture book club, which I thought was probably a bit below his reading level, but I wanted to start out easy getting him used to the norms of the group. When the schedule came out for the new session, I signed him up for the chapter book club, and his first meeting was this afternoon.

Sue, one of the children's librarians, reads to the kids and then leads an activity related to what they're reading. Today the kids came upstairs from the meeting doing a stiff, penguin-like march, and Sue told me she's reading "Mr. Popper's Penguins" to them.

According to Sue, this is her first time reading it, but I remember the book well from my childhood, when I received it as a Christmas gift one year from my grandparents. If you have or know kids, it's a great book to read and share with them--funny, imaginative, surprisingly tender--and apparently, soon to be a motion picture starring Jim Carrey in the titular role.

After what he did to the Grinch, I may not be able to watch it; some things are better left alone.

NaPoWriMo #16: soundtrack

A few years back I saw O Brother, Where Art Thou? for the first time. Ordinarily I can take or leave the Cohen Brothers (loved The Hudsucker Proxy and Intolerable Cruelty; The Big Lebowski and Raising Arizona, not so much).

Maybe it was because O Brother, Where Art Thou is based on Homer's Odyssey and I'm a sucker for The Odyssey, which I still managed to enjoy even while translating it from Latin my sophomore year in high school... I'm not sure. But I loved the fanciful update of a great story. I loved George Clooney's manic lip-synching to "Man of Constant Sorrow". I loved Pete getting "loved up and turned into a horny toad." And I especially loved the tins of Dapper Dan pomade and cows swirling through flood waters. But most of all, I loved the soundtrack, which I promptly went out and paid, well, almost full price for (I bought it at Costco).

Tonight Jim and I were watching In Plain Sight, one of our new favorite shows, which is just starting its second season. At the end of the episode, one of the tracks from the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack—my favorite track—started to roll. And I suddenly felt inspired.


O sinners let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sinners let's go down
Down in the river to pray

—“Down to the River to Pray”, Traditional Baptist Hymn


Down in the River

A smoky sweet autumn wind
weaves along river’s bank
caresses aspen leaves turned gold
coaxes maple leaves turned scarlet
gentles them down in slow spirals
through willow’s weeping tendrils
to catch shifting shafts of honey light
as trees bow in the breeze

I’m bowing in the breeze
gentled down low to weeping
coaxed to kneel broken-hearted
clothed in scarlet as I wait
leaves caressing my hair
carpeting the grass and dusty shore
under my knees and feet
how long till I give way

how long till leaves and grass give way
to smooth cool of riverbed rocks
under my bare soles
under my knees
till I give myself to living waters
washing dust from my feet and hands and mouth
till I float white-clad down the river
hair fanning out behind me
with maple and aspen spiraling above?

NaPoWriMo #11: charade

Last Friday Read Write Poem had a great prompt, but I just wasn't feeling it then: write a poem about an old movie. So. I'm working oh so slowly through my writer's block, just trying to gentle my way into writing again, and today has felt a bit more fruitful.

I'm a sucker for Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn, and Charade is one of my all-time faves (right up there with Rear Window, To Catch a Thief, His Girl Friday... yeah, they just don't make 'em like they used to). It's got great comic and romantic chemistry, a phenomenal ensemble cast, a seriously haute wardrobe for Miss Hepburn, and snappy dialog that includes some truly memorable one-liners ("She batted them pretty little eyes at you, and you fell for it like an egg from a tall chicken!")

If you haven't seen Charade, rent it (but don't even waste your time with the lousy remake The Truth About Charlie, starring Mark Wahlberg and Thandie Newton).

Oh, and here's the poem.


You Forget I’m Already a Widow

You were going to get a divorce
because you loved him
and he didn’t love you
now all you have left of him
fits in one small blue bag
comb, toothbrush, tooth powder
key, wallet, agenda
ticket to South America
and one letter stamped but unsealed
addressed to you
my darling Regina

what now, now that you’re
alone with a small blue bag
alone with $250,000
missing in plain sight
alone with your Givenchy
and filtered cigarettes
like drinking coffee
through a veil
alone with all these men
Adam
Alex
Peter
Brian
hiding behind the same cleft chin
and graying temples
what now

can you trust him to
steal from you
protect you
kill you
love you?

Enchanted april

A year ago at Christmas, a friend gave me a copy of The Enchanted April, one of her favorite books. Immediately I was drawn in by the Maxfield Parrish painting on the cover, and found it to be a refreshing read, especially in the cold desolation of mid-winter here in central Washington. Then a few months ago, I caught the 1992 film adaptation on television. It was faithful to the book, and stood on its own as a well-crafted period piece.

Last Saturday I picked the book up off the shelf and read it over the weekend. I get a lot of flack from Jim for reading the same books over and over again, but for me there's something reassuring about it, like visiting with old friends; I always know what to expect and yet occasionally I'm surprised by a new and thought-provoking insight I couldn't have anticipated.

I remember enjoying my first reading: the lush Italian scenery described in loving detail, gorgeous flowers, moonlight across the water, humorous characterizations, a comedy of errors, and unexpected friendship and reconciliation. It was all there this time, and more.

Maybe it's all the changes I've been making in my own life over the last year, because this time I had a much greater appreciation for the themes of forgiveness, letting go, love, beauty, serenity, and making time to just be. And I found unexpected inspiration for my upcoming poetic endeavor in the idea of making time for beauty and the transforming power doing so can have in my life. Dare I say it, I'm actually looking forward to NaPoWriMo, the opportunity to take a few moments each day to create, to express the beauty I see around me, the love I feel, and joy at just being alive, being me.

NaPoWriMo #27: outrageous

The first thing that sprang to mind when I looked at this week's prompt at Writers Island was something Janet Livermore (Bridget Fonda) said in Cameron Crowe's Singles: "I think time's running out to do something outrageous." Except I remembered it wrong. When I googled it, I realized the quote is actually: "I think time's running out to do something bizarre. Somewhere around 25, bizarre becomes immature."

I started thinking about why I had once related to Janet so much. She was almost exactly where I was at emotionally when I first saw Singles in 1992. I was her same age (23) and I completely understood the drive to be whoever, whatever I needed to be to preserve a relationship, no matter the cost. Janet did some pretty bizarre things to try and keep things going with her deadbeat grunge boyfriend Cliff (played by a hirsute Matt Dillon). Probably the most bizarre thing I ever did (that I would admit to) was to stalk a former boyfriend I had broken up with by driving by his house every night on my way home from work to see if he was home, for the first month after our breakup. Make that two former boyfriends. But the first guy was the one who ended it with me.

Which is why Janet intrigued me. She did a lot of the same dumb, desperate kind of things I had done, and yet she was able to walk away. The scene with Janet up on the rooftop of her apartment was a mystery to me, a place I aspired to reach. She'd just broken up with Cliff, and reclining on a lounge chair she said, "I've always been able to do this. Break up and never look back. Being alone, there's a certain dignity to it." By the time I got to my second drive-by ex, I had the courage to break up with someone I knew was totally wrong for me; I just had a hard time not looking back. It took me over a month to get to the point where I could be alone and do it in a dignified way. But I did do it.

Incidentally, I disagree with Janet on one point: I don't think there's any statute of limitations on doing something bizarre. Or outrageous.


Driving By

It might take me
a while to discover and
by a while I mean several
more weeks or even
months of waiting till
after dark to drive by hoping
for a glimpse of
you walking out your door
you checking your mail
you on your bicycle or even
you getting into a car with
someone else yes it might
take some time to know not
just believe I'm better off
without you the good news is
no matter how long it
takes you'll never know.

Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K

Okay, I admit it: I like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. What can I say? It's got So-crates, Keanu Reeves before his Shakespearean aspirations, and a totally bodacious soundtrack. My favorite song was "Two Heads Are Better Than One" by Power Tool (yes, please ignore the less than subtle sexual innuendo), which played as Bill and Ted were getting acquainted with Joan of Ark (Noah's wife).

Moving along... I've been away from my computer most of the day, but when I checked in this evening, I got a pleasant surprise; my dear friend Aubrey bestowed this upon me:



I, in turn, would like to share the love by rating the following blogging poets as most excellent and inspiring:

• Paisley at ...Why Paisley???
• Deb at Stoney Moss
• Catherine at Still Standing on Her Head
• Clare at Clare's Sunflower Sky

I've been reading each of them for a while now and am continually amazed by this diverse group of women writers, their command of language, and gift for crafting beautiful poetry. They are quite deserving, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!

Anyone can cook

Yesterday afternoon we fired up the popcorn popper, slipped our latest shipment from Netflix in the DVD player, curled up as a family on the couch, and watched Ratatouille, the animated feature about a rat named Remy with aspirations to become a chef. The story was cute, the dialogue clever, the computer animation absolutely amazing. What stuck with me, though, was the message conveyed in the famous chef Gusteau's cookbook title: "Anyone can cook." Although the movie takes this idea in a specific direction (a rat can be a superlative chef who takes a great recipe and makes inspired improvements rendering it brilliant), I've been thinking about it on a slightly different vein while making dinner this evening.

I'm sure this sounds odd right after I posted about the drudgery of meal planning, but I think cooking has a very Zen side to it—kind of like golf—in that you don't have to be good at it to enjoy it. Anyone can cook, and anyone can enjoy cooking. It's all up to the individual to decide how much time to invest learning new skills, practicing, perfecting your game.

I cooked another new recipe tonight: chicken pot pie. Sometimes trying unfamiliar recipes is risky (no breading on the chicken cacciatore, please!); this one had the benefit of a previous test drive. The week I got out of the hospital after Audrey was born, women from our ward brought dinner to us each night, including Susan, our bishop's wife. She made us a chicken pot pie that far outstripped my own recipe. She even cut out a cute little chicken shape from crust and put it on top. While the golden-brown pie looked wonderful, it tasted even better: a savory filling overflowing with chicken and vegetables, and an unbelievably light, flaky, seasoned crust (it was the crust that made me have to have the recipe).

At first I hesitated to ask. Within our little church community, Susan is a famously accomplished cook. At ward potlucks whatever she brings is gone within the first five minutes. Sometimes people who are good cooks are highly secretive and won't share their recipes—or if they do, they purposely omit or change the amounts of ingredients to maintain their reputation as the only person who can make it "just so". We have one friend who makes this amazing dish, which elicits raves from anyone who eats it, and we were only able to get the recipe through completely nefarious means because s/he wouldn't share it with anyone who asked for it. (I cannot reveal any particulars of the dish and person or s/he would know we have the recipe, and while it was absolutely worth the shady means employed to obtain it, if I told you, I would have to kill you.)

Fortunately, Susan has no such scruples and when I asked, she freely shared her recipe with me. I found out the secrets of the delectable flaky crust: shortening (I usually use butter) and celery seed. Who knew? So while my pie wasn't anywhere as cute as hers (no chicken cut out), it had the same flavor. And I know with practice, I'll be able to perfect the presentation.

While I was rolling out the crust, I started to think about what makes people so stingy with their talents. Recently I had big wake-up call when I volunteered to make a pie for Thanksgiving. I had been gloating because I make a really tender, flaky pie crust and usually my apple pie is (and I say this in all humility) pretty terrific, but for some reason this year it went all wrong. Actually, I know exactly what went awry: I sliced the apples too thick because I was in a hurry. They were so thick they didn't cook through and it ruined the whole pie. That's what I get for being smug about my pies; it just goes to show I can't afford to get cocky (or rush myself), even when I'm good at something. So as an inner penance, I offered to teach one of my sisters-in-law (a young wife who is still learning to cook) how to make pies.

I think if you have a talent, you should share it. After all, I wouldn't have any cooking know-how if my mom and many other teachers hadn't shared their knowledge and abilities with me. Teaching someone else skills does not diminish your own skills, right? If anything, it guards against the culinary hubris of "super-secret recipes" and spreads the wealth of good food and good times making that food.

Think pink

In my distant childhood I remember loving to dress up and twirl around in a full skirt, pretending I was a ballerina. That was offset by a lot of time reading books about ancient Egypt and making repeated attempts to dig up buried treasure in my backyard. Sadly, my aspirations to become the world's first ballet-dancing archaeologist have yet to be fulfilled, but I still spend a lot more time in denim than in frills.

Over the years, I've eschewed wearing pink and other girly pastels in favor of more saturated hues like blue, black and red that flatter my coloring and harmonize with my personality—with the notable exception of a pink dress my mom made for me in 1984, which I absolutely adored and wore out.

Then, a couple years ago, I unexpectedly experienced a pink renaissance. After Jimmy was born, I lost a lot of weight and started to experiment with fashion. About that same time, I saw Funny Face (another Fred Astaire film, co-starring the incomparable Audrey Hepburn). Early in the movie is a musical number called "Think Pink" featuring the hilarious Kay Thompson as a fashion magazine editor extolling the virtues of pink.

While it would be a stretch to call it an anthem for my new wardrobe, the song got stuck in my head and when I was out shopping, it became a catalyst for stepping out of my comfort zone. Slowly I incorporated pink into my sartorial selections, although I usually chose shocking pink, fuschia or other vibrant shades. Here's a clip from Youtube.com that has the song in its entirety:

Now that we've found out we're having a girl, I'm starting to think pink again. Not that I don't want balance for her wardrobe; I've made sure to include blues, browns, purples and so forth. But I'm reconnecting with my inner pink-ness. On Wednesday Jimmy and I went down to Jo-Ann Fabrics in Yakima and I bought some fabric for sewing projects.

I finished the first project, a double-sided flannel receiving blanket, just yesterday.


Here's a closeup of the bow detail. Stay tuned for the matching dress (which I'm going to work on this weekend).

Night and day

You learn something new every day (especially if you're me). This afternoon while folding my Friday laundry, I watched The Gay Divorcee with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and found out that one of my favorite songs, the old standard "Night and Day" by Cole Porter, was written for this particular film. The movie itself is an appealing light musical comedy with plenty of the duo's famous dancing (my favorite part).

In The Gay Divorcee, Astaire sings "Night and Day". Many others have covered it since the film came out in 1934, but my favorite version is by the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald. Every time I hear it, I envision myself in a flowing gown, being swept away à la Ginger and Fred, dancing on my own personal cloud.

I have an mp3 of Ella Fitzgerald singing "Night and Day"; however, Blogger doesn't support sharing mp3 files. So I googled like crazy to try and find a link to a recording of it, but no dice. Then I remembered Youtube.com and got lucky. This isn't quite as smooth as the track I have on mp3, but it's still a wonderful live performance by a consummate artist of a beautiful love song.

Oh, and by the way—Youtube.com also has a trailer for The Gay Divorcee, which has a short clip of Astaire singing "Night and Day". That particular scene is charming; it's where he finally wins her over with the song and a romantic waltz. If you've never seen it, this classic film is worth watching.

Adagio

Last week when I was getting my massage, I noticed some familiar music playing. I asked my massage therapist the name of the CD. It turned out to be "Classical Healing" by Tom Barabas, but the track I recognized was listed simply as "Adagio," with no composer credited. It started to bug me, like when I was obsessing about Katie the Cleaning Lady. But the more I thought about it, I knew that I had heard the music on a movie soundtrack and that it was playing during a tragic scene, maybe during a war. So I got on the internet and went to my trusty friend, IMDB. There I searched movie soundtracks for "Adagio" and amongst the many hits I found a movie that I had seen, "Gallipoli". Looking at the movie's soundtrack listing gave me the name of the composer, Tomaso Albinoni, and a more exact title of the piece of music, "Adagio in G minor for strings and organ."



I saw "Gallipoli" for the first time in a high school history class, when we were studying World War I. Directed by Peter Weir and starring a very young Mel Gibson, it was a scathing idictment of the British role in the loss of life of Australian soldiers, as well as a general anti-war piece. Weir is a great craftsman of film and one of the things that makes his movies even more compelling is his selection of music. I think that the music is what made this movie stay with me for so long, even though it isn't my favorite movie by Weir. "Adagio in G minor" is one of the most hauntingly beautiful pieces of music I've ever heard: aching, poignant and compelling.