Q. Shenaynay
Come celebrate with me the passing of February! My least favorite month of the year will die at midnight tonight! And tomorrow when we arise it will be -- gloriously! miraculously! -- MARCH!!!
O frabjous joy! Callou callay!
February for only one more day!
Haul out those sandals, girls!!!
February 28, 2006
February 27, 2006
Things I Learned (or realized more fully) in 2005
Q. Shenaynay
~ That the running tape of my father's wisdom that plays in the background of my thoughts shapes me more than I ever realized, and saves me from untold trouble... therefore, I need to be passing that wisdom along to my children every chance I get while I still have them at home.
~ How right my brother was when he gave me this bit of advice: "You will never ever waste one minute that you invest in the younger people in the church... and the younger they are, the bigger your return for every minute invested." Preach it, brother.
~ That a true friend is that rare person who always keeps your best interests at heart, even when it's not the easy thing to do. And that being married to that sort of person makes life worth living.
~ That when the Lord calls you to let go of something -- a friendship that no longer edifies, a habit, a personal idol, a dream -- and you obey Him even though it hurts like mad, He will repopulate your life and restore your joy in ways you never imagined.
~ That if I'm the only person who can do some good thing that needs to be done, even if it looks like a mountain I can't climb, I simply must do it -- and trust the Lord to more than match my efforts.
~ That trying to love people the way Christ loved us -- the "new commandment"-- is a process that just grows more complex and yet more beautiful the longer I work at it; that neither the full meaning of it nor the daily challenge of it ever stop growing in magnitude... and that it's the only thing that makes life worth living for any of us.
~ And furthermore, that loving people merely in my head -- in other words, in a way that they cannot feel and does them no appreciable good to speak of -- does nothing except make me feel better about myself, and is therefore only a self-serving sort of love. Ouch. "And by this (our love for one another) shall all men know that ye are my disciples..." means that the Lord means for my love for others to be observable.
~ That every minute I've ever spent earning my children's trust was time well spent, especially now that two of them are teenagers.
~ That a day at the park is cheaper than a month of burnout, and two cappucinos at Starbucks cost a whole lot less than the toll of inadequate communication between friends.
~ That when the Lord gives you a burden to pray for someone, and you are faithful to do it, get ready: He may well call on you to roll up your sleeves and do more for them than just pray.
~ That if what you need to keep yourself sane and joyful in this vain, wearying world is a weekend three states away with the people who love you best, the important thing to remember is that filling a gas tank is still cheaper than filling Zoloft prescriptions... even if you drive a Suburban.
~ That the more I pray for direction, the more I will just know things -- the more I can trust that thing people erroneously call "gut instinct" or "sixth sense" or even "woman's intuition." And that I need to trust that gut instinct more than I do.
~ That satan doesn't mess with me as much while I'm singing hymns or praying, and I don't do nearly enough of either.
~ That if I eat that many peanut M&Ms again this summer, I will gain yet another 5 pounds. But it sure will be fun.
February 26, 2006
Shieldmaiden Quote of the Week
Fa-so-la-la
Claire and I take our music very seriously. Our lives have a constant soundtrack--before doing just about anything, we confer on what music to play while doing it.
So today we began a massive project to rescue our room and bathroom from their present state of semi-decay and disrepair, and of course started it off with a discussion on what music to play. I suggested that we give our new Andrea Bocelli album an inaugural spin, and she replied, in dead earnest and without the batting of a single eyelash,
"Oh yes! There's nothing like a little high drama for scrubbing toilets!"
An Atheist In Love
It's awfully sweet of the Future
To be so indefinable, so postponable.
The best political move ever,
And so good for the economy!
By its very nature it grants us leave
For all the Spunk and Pluck
We care to indulge in-- how kind,
How thoughtful of it.
We're left here, cheeky, like a reader
On the first page of Middlemarch--
--The end is, after all, so many inches away!
Anything could happen! You'll see!
So thank you, dear Future! A thousand
Thousand thanks-- from politicians,
Sports fans, the self-employed, artists,
And unrequited lovers everywhere.
To be so indefinable, so postponable.
The best political move ever,
And so good for the economy!
By its very nature it grants us leave
For all the Spunk and Pluck
We care to indulge in-- how kind,
How thoughtful of it.
We're left here, cheeky, like a reader
On the first page of Middlemarch--
--The end is, after all, so many inches away!
Anything could happen! You'll see!
So thank you, dear Future! A thousand
Thousand thanks-- from politicians,
Sports fans, the self-employed, artists,
And unrequited lovers everywhere.
February 25, 2006
everything to someone
"How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone?"
- from What's Wrong With the World? by G. K. Chesterton
[I shamelessly lifted this quote from The Common Room blog... because a) it's too good not to pass on, and my very dear friend The Headmistress is a notoriously magnanimous being and would want all Beehive readers to enjoy it, and b) because I'm sorta kinda reading this book, albeit at a snail's pace, and therefore feel quite validated in my thievery of said quote from said blog. ;-)]
- from What's Wrong With the World? by G. K. Chesterton
[I shamelessly lifted this quote from The Common Room blog... because a) it's too good not to pass on, and my very dear friend The Headmistress is a notoriously magnanimous being and would want all Beehive readers to enjoy it, and b) because I'm sorta kinda reading this book, albeit at a snail's pace, and therefore feel quite validated in my thievery of said quote from said blog. ;-)]
Spuddy Love
Q. Shenaynay
A conversation with Spuddy Buddy, while snuggling by the fire on the sofa:
Me: I'm so glad you love me.
Spuddy: I'm so glad you love me.
Me: I'm so happy you're my boy.
Spuddy: I'm even happier that I'm your boy.
Me: You know what? I lived a very long time without knowing you. And all that time God was looking at me and smiling because only He knew the big secret.
Spuddy: Yeah! He knew me, and He knew He was sending me to you! (tickles my chin, kisses my nose)
Me: Yes, and I think He was probably chuckling inside a little all that time, like when you know you've got the very best present ever for someone you love very much, and you know it's going to be the most awesome surprise they'll ever get.
Spuddy: Yes... God decides who your children will be because He decides everything. And He decided to send me here (and here he gets all chuckly and lapses into his Cool Soul Man voice) so you all wouldn't be livin' like da Blevins! Woo! (scrunches his face) Three girls, no boys... imagine!
No, my Spuddy Buddy, I don't think I can imagine that anymore... ;-)
A conversation with Spuddy Buddy, while snuggling by the fire on the sofa:
Me: I'm so glad you love me.
Spuddy: I'm so glad you love me.
Me: I'm so happy you're my boy.
Spuddy: I'm even happier that I'm your boy.
Me: You know what? I lived a very long time without knowing you. And all that time God was looking at me and smiling because only He knew the big secret.
Spuddy: Yeah! He knew me, and He knew He was sending me to you! (tickles my chin, kisses my nose)
Me: Yes, and I think He was probably chuckling inside a little all that time, like when you know you've got the very best present ever for someone you love very much, and you know it's going to be the most awesome surprise they'll ever get.
Spuddy: Yes... God decides who your children will be because He decides everything. And He decided to send me here (and here he gets all chuckly and lapses into his Cool Soul Man voice) so you all wouldn't be livin' like da Blevins! Woo! (scrunches his face) Three girls, no boys... imagine!
No, my Spuddy Buddy, I don't think I can imagine that anymore... ;-)
February 23, 2006
Ticonderoga code
Q. Shenaynay
I'm always fascinated by the odd and endearing shorthand that develops within a family and between close friends -- the easy code language that emerges from days and years of sharing context.
For example, yesterday Fa and I had to smile over the way we both know precisely what's going on when one of us, looking glazed and distracted, quietly asks the other:
"Quick, please bring me a sharp Ticonderoga."
It means "and please do it quietly and don't talk to me too much just now, because I've got a poem swimming in my head and I need to hear it and I can't hear your voice just now anyway and I need to get it on paper quickly before it flees, and I'd really like to write it with one of those really smooth, fine pencils with near-liquid lead that we save back for this sort of thing because they skate across paper so and I really want to enjoy the sweetness of rendering on paper these words I'm hearing."
But "please bring me a sharp Ticonderoga" is so much more efficient, not to mention more anticipatiously suspenseful for the pencil fetcher.
I'm always fascinated by the odd and endearing shorthand that develops within a family and between close friends -- the easy code language that emerges from days and years of sharing context.
For example, yesterday Fa and I had to smile over the way we both know precisely what's going on when one of us, looking glazed and distracted, quietly asks the other:
"Quick, please bring me a sharp Ticonderoga."
It means "and please do it quietly and don't talk to me too much just now, because I've got a poem swimming in my head and I need to hear it and I can't hear your voice just now anyway and I need to get it on paper quickly before it flees, and I'd really like to write it with one of those really smooth, fine pencils with near-liquid lead that we save back for this sort of thing because they skate across paper so and I really want to enjoy the sweetness of rendering on paper these words I'm hearing."
But "please bring me a sharp Ticonderoga" is so much more efficient, not to mention more anticipatiously suspenseful for the pencil fetcher.
February 22, 2006
"Please try again at a later date. Thank you!"
Fa-so-la-la
I tried to use a cliche earlier. It wouldn't come. So I inquired about a bit to find out what was up, and it turns out that cliches are temporarily unavailable, due to a shortage induced by rampant cliche use at the Olympics which has manufacturers scrambling to meet demands. I'll just have to try again later.
I tried to use a cliche earlier. It wouldn't come. So I inquired about a bit to find out what was up, and it turns out that cliches are temporarily unavailable, due to a shortage induced by rampant cliche use at the Olympics which has manufacturers scrambling to meet demands. I'll just have to try again later.
February 21, 2006
Stars on the Water
~a waltz~
In the dark
he’s bedazzled by
stars on the water
never thinking the night
will pass by
And stooping
to gaze long at
stars on the water
he falls in, but feels
oddly dry.
He’d dreamed
it was warmer –
those stars and this water –
but he treads there and
doesn’t ask why.
(To a man
in the dark
a mirage on the water
is a doable dose
of the sky.)
Heaven’s sun
shames phantom
stars from the waters
while kindling veiled glories
on high
For the night
when, mourning lost
stars on the water,
he’ll look up and gasp
at the sky.
In the dark
he’s bedazzled by
stars on the water
never thinking the night
will pass by
And stooping
to gaze long at
stars on the water
he falls in, but feels
oddly dry.
He’d dreamed
it was warmer –
those stars and this water –
but he treads there and
doesn’t ask why.
(To a man
in the dark
a mirage on the water
is a doable dose
of the sky.)
Heaven’s sun
shames phantom
stars from the waters
while kindling veiled glories
on high
For the night
when, mourning lost
stars on the water,
he’ll look up and gasp
at the sky.
Of course we all know why...
"Whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
--Max Erhmann
--Max Erhmann
February 20, 2006
TAG!
Fa-so-la-la
I'm it! I hereby tag myself to write the ten most important things I learned last year. I want to do this for my own sake, really. It's actually a very worthy exercise, especially after such a learningful year. So here we are... the top ten things I learned in 2005.
(Wait, wait. Hold it. Something tells me I'm gonna go waaay over the limit. Consider yourself warned.)
(Oh, and I tag The Shieldmaiden.)
(And just so you know, I learned a lot that isn't on this list. Like I said-- a learningful year. Very. Lots of small stuff. Lots of big stuff. Lots and lots. This is just a select sample.)
(Ok, I'm really gonna start now....)
- Music is the single most comforting thing to me outside of prayer. I've always loved music, but I've really only just discovered the extent of the effect it can have on me. I've learned that sometimes, I really just need to sing along to some Gershwin and wash dishes (another oddly comforting act). Or sit and listen to Sean Watkins and think. Or fall asleep to Bebo Norman (magical stuff for that sort of thing-- can soothe you right back into a good frame of mind, and always makes you meditate on the power of the Lord). Or go play some Chopin for an hour or so. It's amazing. And even if it doesn't exactly make you feel better, it at least helps you enjoy feeling bad. hahahahahhahaha.
- I'm happiest when I'm writing frequently.
- I'm a lot lazier than I ever suspected. sigh.
- I'm also a much worse night owl than I ever suspected. People, it's baaaad. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. Oh deary me.
- Some people just need a little grace. Meaning that if the Lord loves 'em, I'd better too. Even if it's hard.
- Ain't nothin' wrong with a little clannishness. Stick with the tribe.
- Time is largely irrelevant. You can bounce along for two years and not change much, and then become a completely new person in two months. Maturity is much more independant of the passing of time that I ever suspected. To prove my point, most of the stuff on this list I learned in the last five months. What exactly I was doing before that I'm not quite sure.
- Peanut M&M's are wonderful things....so wonderful. Oh yes. Yes yes yes.
- I have a terrible and previously undiscovered weakness for skirts. Oh my yes. I see them. I fall in love with them. Everywhere I go I lose my heart to one. What shall I do???? Oh deary me. Limited closet space. Limited cash. And unbounded love in my heart for....sigh.... skirts. Especially big fluffy ones. Or short swingy ones. Or long swooshy ones. The list goes on. And on. I love skirts.
- And flats. Did I mention flats? As in the shoes. They're peachy.
- Emotions are not nearly as hard to come by as I used to think.
- There are some things that just don't need to be said.
- Cell phones make the world go round.
- There's a fine line between vanity and concern for other people's eyes.
And the single most important thing I've learned all year-- for that matter, the single most important thing I've learned in a long time:
- When you find people really and truly worthy of being loved, it's hard, yea, even impossible to love them too much. And when you love people, it's hard, yea, even impossible to show them that too much. The thing to do is to just get over yourself and love them as hard as you know how. I've never met anyone who couldn't use a little more assurance that they are loved. I discovered this year that I very often feel big love for people and do absolutely nothing about it. This must cease. After all, we all grooove on looooove. :-)
Wait, wait. I take that back. This is the single most important thing I've learned--
- When the Lord says to be still and know that He is God, He means it.
Pointless
Q. Shenayay
Why, oh why do all of my children have the sillies today?
They are bouncing all over the house like Tiggers (boom-boom-boom on the old pier and beam). They are bursting into rather jarring forms of laughter at the slightest provocation. They are goosing each other all sneaky-like. At present they are trying very hard to get through their readaloud assignment of Sir Walter Scott's The Antiquary, but today he's suddenly just hilariously funny and melodramatic.
We are getting nothing done. But they are all smiling infectiously and way happy.
I give up. I give in. I think I'll go blow raspberries at them and bounce around the den for no reason at all. Spuddy probably needs to be tickled till he can't breathe. Fa could definitely benefit from encountering a sheeted ghoul exploding out of the hall closet. And The Shieldmaiden might need some ice down the back of her shirt...
Why, oh why do all of my children have the sillies today?
They are bouncing all over the house like Tiggers (boom-boom-boom on the old pier and beam). They are bursting into rather jarring forms of laughter at the slightest provocation. They are goosing each other all sneaky-like. At present they are trying very hard to get through their readaloud assignment of Sir Walter Scott's The Antiquary, but today he's suddenly just hilariously funny and melodramatic.
We are getting nothing done. But they are all smiling infectiously and way happy.
I give up. I give in. I think I'll go blow raspberries at them and bounce around the den for no reason at all. Spuddy probably needs to be tickled till he can't breathe. Fa could definitely benefit from encountering a sheeted ghoul exploding out of the hall closet. And The Shieldmaiden might need some ice down the back of her shirt...
A Hymn
God Moves In A Mysterious Way
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
February 19, 2006
At Last...
After many many years, it's happened.
Count the hot dogs, count the buns.
We will now be free! As long as this goes on, no bun will be left behind after all the hot dogs have been eaten! Woot!
February 18, 2006
Hearth Thoughts
It's good to see the origins and ends of things;
To lay and light fires
And watch them through to glimmering conclusions.
The joy of knowing both first and last page
Of books, first and last day
Of years, dawn and dusk of days.
Small eras, yet
irretrievable and true.
Larger origins and ends may pass silent and unseen--
Sleek cats slipping through fence-post clutter
Of things that were significant for a week or two;
So there's nothing for it but to cherish them all,
All dawns, all dusks, bad and good, irretrievable and true, all,
All. Cherish them all. You never know.
To lay and light fires
And watch them through to glimmering conclusions.
The joy of knowing both first and last page
Of books, first and last day
Of years, dawn and dusk of days.
Small eras, yet
irretrievable and true.
Larger origins and ends may pass silent and unseen--
Sleek cats slipping through fence-post clutter
Of things that were significant for a week or two;
So there's nothing for it but to cherish them all,
All dawns, all dusks, bad and good, irretrievable and true, all,
All. Cherish them all. You never know.
February 17, 2006
Jane and the Flower Children
Fa-so-la-la
The other day, Spuddy Buddy, Shieldmaiden and I were watching Emma together (Kate Beckinsale version, for the curious). It got to the part on the Common where the gypsies 'attack,' and Spuddy cried with out with terror and dismay,
"Oh NO! Sisters! Here come the hippies!!!"
The other day, Spuddy Buddy, Shieldmaiden and I were watching Emma together (Kate Beckinsale version, for the curious). It got to the part on the Common where the gypsies 'attack,' and Spuddy cried with out with terror and dismay,
"Oh NO! Sisters! Here come the hippies!!!"
February 16, 2006
Happy Birthday to us!
Happy Birthday to us!
Happy Birthday, dear Beehive...
Haaaapppppyy Birrrrrthdaaayyyy to Usssssssssss!
Yes, The Beehive is one year old today! And this is our 293rd post in 365 days. Not bad, eh?
We started this blog for the sole purpose of having a family forum for the five of us to journal our thoughts and household happenings -- a record of our days together. We didn't think anyone else would be interested, and certainly never expected to draw around 100-140 visitors per day! We continue to be rather bowled over by that. And we are quite honored that our toddling blog was nominated for two "best-of" blog awards in recent months. Even made the finalist rounds, which almost went to our heads. But don't worry -- we lost, so we're back to normal and humble again.
I couldn't begin to pick a favorite post from the past year, but I could definitely come up with my top 10 if pressed. But the one that has garnered the most comments ever was about... shoes. Flip-flops, to be precise. Go figure.
To paraphrase the immortal words of Eeyore, "Thanks for noticin' us." We adore the Beehive Faithful for bothering to visit us and for delighting us with all your comments. To tell you the ugly truth, we just love the attention. So please keep it up -- it makes us happy, and that's what we're after.
Please join us in a little toast, would you?
Happy Birthday to us!
Happy Birthday, dear Beehive...
Haaaapppppyy Birrrrrthdaaayyyy to Usssssssssss!
Yes, The Beehive is one year old today! And this is our 293rd post in 365 days. Not bad, eh?
We started this blog for the sole purpose of having a family forum for the five of us to journal our thoughts and household happenings -- a record of our days together. We didn't think anyone else would be interested, and certainly never expected to draw around 100-140 visitors per day! We continue to be rather bowled over by that. And we are quite honored that our toddling blog was nominated for two "best-of" blog awards in recent months. Even made the finalist rounds, which almost went to our heads. But don't worry -- we lost, so we're back to normal and humble again.
I couldn't begin to pick a favorite post from the past year, but I could definitely come up with my top 10 if pressed. But the one that has garnered the most comments ever was about... shoes. Flip-flops, to be precise. Go figure.
To paraphrase the immortal words of Eeyore, "Thanks for noticin' us." We adore the Beehive Faithful for bothering to visit us and for delighting us with all your comments. To tell you the ugly truth, we just love the attention. So please keep it up -- it makes us happy, and that's what we're after.
Please join us in a little toast, would you?
February 15, 2006
February 14, 2006
First Love
Fa-so-la-la
Yes, Uncle David was my first love. He was da man.
So affectionate...so caring...
He bought me stacks of presents...
He took me for long romantic walks hand in hand...
And when he held me, it was like I was on top of the world....
Alas, as time has gone by other women have replaced me in his life. Aunt Karen for instance. So I content myself with fondly recalling the dear old days when Bunca Sugar was my beau. Sigh. But I still love you, Bunca Sugar.
Yes, Uncle David was my first love. He was da man.
So affectionate...so caring...
He bought me stacks of presents...
He took me for long romantic walks hand in hand...
And when he held me, it was like I was on top of the world....
Alas, as time has gone by other women have replaced me in his life. Aunt Karen for instance. So I content myself with fondly recalling the dear old days when Bunca Sugar was my beau. Sigh. But I still love you, Bunca Sugar.
The Hallmark Holiday
by Great Scot
On the way to work this morning, I heard on the radio that the observance of St. Valentine's Day was derived from English/French traditions. The custom of St. Valentine's Day began following the observance that birds began pairing up in mid-February. I guess you could say that, quite literally, love was in the air! Well this historical observation lead the other commentator on the radio to remark that, "Well this goes to show that St. Valentine's day is for the birds."
Happy Valentine's Day and much love to all the inhabitants of The Beehive.
On the way to work this morning, I heard on the radio that the observance of St. Valentine's Day was derived from English/French traditions. The custom of St. Valentine's Day began following the observance that birds began pairing up in mid-February. I guess you could say that, quite literally, love was in the air! Well this historical observation lead the other commentator on the radio to remark that, "Well this goes to show that St. Valentine's day is for the birds."
Happy Valentine's Day and much love to all the inhabitants of The Beehive.
Quirky Love Poems, Part Two
Q. Shenaynay
I couldn't resist after Fa posted two of my favorites, so here are three more delightfully unsappy love poems, the kind that transcend the usual Hallmark-y mush... and worth reading on a day such as this.
This first two are by Thomas Hardy (1840-1928). I adore this first one -- isn't this just the way it so often happens? You can just hear his pitch and tempo escalating as his heart gradually gets away from him...
A Week
On Monday night I closed my door,
And thought you were not as heretofore,
And little cared if we met no more.
I seemed on Tuesday night to trace
Something beyond mere commonplace
In your ideas, and heart, and face.
On Wednesday I did not opine
Your life would ever be one with mine,
Though if it were we should well combine.
On Thursday noon I liked you well,
And fondly felt that we must dwell
Not far apart, whatever befell.
On Friday it was with a thrill
In gazing towards your distant vill
I owned you were my dear one still.
I saw you wholly to my mind
On Saturday -- even one who shrined
All that was best of womankind.
As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea
On Sunday night I longed for thee,
Without whom life were waste to me!
* * * * * * *
The Sigh
Little head against my shoulder,
Shy at first, then somewhat bolder,
And up-eyed;
Till she, with a timid quaver,
Yielded to the kiss I gave her;
But, she sighed.
That there mingled with her feeling
Some sad thought she was concealing
It implied.
-- Not that she had ceased to love me,
None on earth she set above me;
But she sighed.
She could not disguise a passion,
Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion
If she tried:
Nothing seemed to hold us sundered,
Hearts were victors; so I wondered
Why she sighed.
Afterwards I knew her throughly,
And she loved me staunchly, truly,
Till she died;
But she never made confession
Why, at that first sweet concession,
She had sighed.
It was in our May, remember;
And though now I near November,
And abide
Till my appointed change, unfretting,
Sometimes I sit half regretting
That she sighed.
* * * * * * *
And this last one is for some young fellows I know... and you will know who you are (hint: bare feet and ponytails).
Delight in Disorder
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness.
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoestring, in whose tie
I see a wild civility;
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.
I couldn't resist after Fa posted two of my favorites, so here are three more delightfully unsappy love poems, the kind that transcend the usual Hallmark-y mush... and worth reading on a day such as this.
This first two are by Thomas Hardy (1840-1928). I adore this first one -- isn't this just the way it so often happens? You can just hear his pitch and tempo escalating as his heart gradually gets away from him...
A Week
On Monday night I closed my door,
And thought you were not as heretofore,
And little cared if we met no more.
I seemed on Tuesday night to trace
Something beyond mere commonplace
In your ideas, and heart, and face.
On Wednesday I did not opine
Your life would ever be one with mine,
Though if it were we should well combine.
On Thursday noon I liked you well,
And fondly felt that we must dwell
Not far apart, whatever befell.
On Friday it was with a thrill
In gazing towards your distant vill
I owned you were my dear one still.
I saw you wholly to my mind
On Saturday -- even one who shrined
All that was best of womankind.
As wing-clipt sea-gull for the sea
On Sunday night I longed for thee,
Without whom life were waste to me!
* * * * * * *
The Sigh
Little head against my shoulder,
Shy at first, then somewhat bolder,
And up-eyed;
Till she, with a timid quaver,
Yielded to the kiss I gave her;
But, she sighed.
That there mingled with her feeling
Some sad thought she was concealing
It implied.
-- Not that she had ceased to love me,
None on earth she set above me;
But she sighed.
She could not disguise a passion,
Dread, or doubt, in weakest fashion
If she tried:
Nothing seemed to hold us sundered,
Hearts were victors; so I wondered
Why she sighed.
Afterwards I knew her throughly,
And she loved me staunchly, truly,
Till she died;
But she never made confession
Why, at that first sweet concession,
She had sighed.
It was in our May, remember;
And though now I near November,
And abide
Till my appointed change, unfretting,
Sometimes I sit half regretting
That she sighed.
* * * * * * *
And this last one is for some young fellows I know... and you will know who you are (hint: bare feet and ponytails).
Delight in Disorder
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness.
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthralls the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoestring, in whose tie
I see a wild civility;
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.
February 13, 2006
Quirky Love Poems
Fa-so-la-la
And now, this being the season of love and such, don't you know, we would like to introduce you to two of the most unusual love poems ever--
Insomnia
by Elizabeth Bishop
The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
far and away beyond sleep,
or perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.
By the Universe deserted,
she'd tell it to go to hell,
and she'd find a body of water,
or a mirror, on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well
into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow as the sea
is now deep, and you love me.
* * * * * * *
Oh, when I was in love with you
by A.E. Housman
Oh, when I was in love with you
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well I did behave
But now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.
And now, this being the season of love and such, don't you know, we would like to introduce you to two of the most unusual love poems ever--
Insomnia
by Elizabeth Bishop
The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
far and away beyond sleep,
or perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.
By the Universe deserted,
she'd tell it to go to hell,
and she'd find a body of water,
or a mirror, on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well
into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow as the sea
is now deep, and you love me.
* * * * * * *
Oh, when I was in love with you
by A.E. Housman
Oh, when I was in love with you
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well I did behave
But now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.
Resignation
At the risk of perpetrating a cliche
I must admit-- the light in this room
Is golden. Just plain golden.
There's nothing I can do about it,
Either. Not even the most original
Flight of poetic fancy
Will render this light anything
But golden. Humph. Ah well--
One must resign one's self
And recall that all the best things
Are cliches; from golden light to poetry to
Love, and that most of all.
I must admit-- the light in this room
Is golden. Just plain golden.
There's nothing I can do about it,
Either. Not even the most original
Flight of poetic fancy
Will render this light anything
But golden. Humph. Ah well--
One must resign one's self
And recall that all the best things
Are cliches; from golden light to poetry to
Love, and that most of all.
But Great Scot is Cuter
We checked this book out at the library and somehow didn't notice until Great Scot pointed it out to us that the piper's kilt is our clan tartan!
But I bet this piper dude doesn't have The Swish that Great Scot has... and it's all about that.
::fans herself::
February 8, 2006
Brotherly Love
Q. Shenaynay
Well, it's February, and love is in the air -- which apparently means it's that time of year when little boys get crushes on their big sisters. Now this is just about the cutest thing ever.
Spuddy has got Valentines on the brain. All he could think about this morning was making lovey cards for his sisters, and planning when Daddy can take him to buy them big red hearts full of chocolate. He's got it bad.
First thing this morning, in the middle of a rather restless phonics lesson, he blurted out,
"Mamadah, pleeeease excuse me for a second."
Why? asked the Mamadah.
"I neeeed to go kiss Sister."
Again: why?
Big swoony grin.
"I like kissing her."
Hey, you ask an obvious question, you get an obvious answer.
So he went galloping down the hall to find Fa on her bed, wrapped up in her blankie and reading her Bible. He pounced on her, gave her three big puckery smooches right on the smacker, then fell back on the bed giggling, all goosey and delirious. And then he crooned in his best Cool Soul Man voice, "I grooove on looove." (Fa was eating it up, of course.)
The swooning little brother phenomenon is not limited to our household, of course... our friend Kathryn, who has two little brothers palpitating over her, reported this little episode to Fa:
Little brother Shafer: (studying her devotedly) Kathryn, why do you hold your teacup like that? Is it because you're a pretty girl?
Kathryn: I don't know why... but sugar, I'm not really a pretty girl.
Little brother Dalton: (alarmed, indignant) Don't say that, Kathryn!! No! You're beautiful!
Shafer: Yeah! I think you're the prettiest girl in the whole wide world! Well... (sigh) you and Caitlin.
Adorable. (Hey, Fa is having a good week, no?)
Well, it's February, and love is in the air -- which apparently means it's that time of year when little boys get crushes on their big sisters. Now this is just about the cutest thing ever.
Spuddy has got Valentines on the brain. All he could think about this morning was making lovey cards for his sisters, and planning when Daddy can take him to buy them big red hearts full of chocolate. He's got it bad.
First thing this morning, in the middle of a rather restless phonics lesson, he blurted out,
"Mamadah, pleeeease excuse me for a second."
Why? asked the Mamadah.
"I neeeed to go kiss Sister."
Again: why?
Big swoony grin.
"I like kissing her."
Hey, you ask an obvious question, you get an obvious answer.
So he went galloping down the hall to find Fa on her bed, wrapped up in her blankie and reading her Bible. He pounced on her, gave her three big puckery smooches right on the smacker, then fell back on the bed giggling, all goosey and delirious. And then he crooned in his best Cool Soul Man voice, "I grooove on looove." (Fa was eating it up, of course.)
The swooning little brother phenomenon is not limited to our household, of course... our friend Kathryn, who has two little brothers palpitating over her, reported this little episode to Fa:
Little brother Shafer: (studying her devotedly) Kathryn, why do you hold your teacup like that? Is it because you're a pretty girl?
Kathryn: I don't know why... but sugar, I'm not really a pretty girl.
Little brother Dalton: (alarmed, indignant) Don't say that, Kathryn!! No! You're beautiful!
Shafer: Yeah! I think you're the prettiest girl in the whole wide world! Well... (sigh) you and Caitlin.
Adorable. (Hey, Fa is having a good week, no?)
February 6, 2006
February 4, 2006
February 2, 2006
Good Stuff
Fa-so-la-la
Those of you who frequent Teadrey (and a jolly good place it is, too) will find some aspects of this post rather familiar. Because I am going to show you pictures of things that make me happy. Yes, yes, I know Dan has already done this. BUT: I am not copy-catting, I actually had the idea first-- he just got around to it before I did. :-)
So here I give you a few random happy things.
Our bookcases. This picture does not even begin to show the enormity of our bookishness. We've got cases floor to ceiling on two walls of our living room crammed with books, and more laying around all over the place. I get the Beauty and the Beast feeling whenever I look at it.
Many happy hours have I spent here.
I recently came to the realisation that I am the main consumer of milk in our household. I drink it so much it's a wonder I haven't turned into a cow. It's just so....good.
Oh yesssss...... the #1 most inspiring sight in the world. Nothing like it.
My personal movie collection. I know it's small, but hey, can't beat the quality.
The place above my bed where I put good song lyrics. I really like the black ink and white paper and blue walls together.
Simply the most wonderful Post-It notes ever. I think they're adorable (these have notes on them for a story).
My bedside table. Claire says it's a wreck, but I think it's a good sort of wreck, the best kind. Books: An Annie Dillard collection, a book of sonnets, the notebook I write poetry in, the notebook I doodle in when I can't sleep (doodling being defined for a verbal person like me as 'writing down lots of random words'), David Copperfield, Gulliver's Travels, my Bible, Shirley by Charlotte Bronte, a collection of Wislava Szymborska (the polish-lady-poet), Complete Stories of Eudora Welty, Pride and Prejudice, my journal (which I haven't written in in three months, probably because this stack is so tall I can't get to it), the book I copy good poems into, and a Bible with study notes. The CD's are my favoritey favorites, the ones I love enough to merit them a place on this crowded bit of real estate. You can probably see what they are, but the ones not in cases are Myself When I Am Real, Michael Feinstien sings Gershwin, and a CD of various jazz/big band.
Eleven and a half years later, it's still one of my favorite school lunches. When Queenie was expecting Spuddy Buddy, The Shieldmaiden and I practically lived on this stuff.
Our tree-top angel from when we were little. We recently got a new one, but The Shieldmaiden and I are sentimental fools and couldn't let the old gal go. She now sits atop my bookcase and serves wonderfully as a lamp.
And lastest but not leastest, our blog. Oh how I love it. It's such great fun.
Those of you who frequent Teadrey (and a jolly good place it is, too) will find some aspects of this post rather familiar. Because I am going to show you pictures of things that make me happy. Yes, yes, I know Dan has already done this. BUT: I am not copy-catting, I actually had the idea first-- he just got around to it before I did. :-)
So here I give you a few random happy things.
Our bookcases. This picture does not even begin to show the enormity of our bookishness. We've got cases floor to ceiling on two walls of our living room crammed with books, and more laying around all over the place. I get the Beauty and the Beast feeling whenever I look at it.
Many happy hours have I spent here.
I recently came to the realisation that I am the main consumer of milk in our household. I drink it so much it's a wonder I haven't turned into a cow. It's just so....good.
Oh yesssss...... the #1 most inspiring sight in the world. Nothing like it.
My personal movie collection. I know it's small, but hey, can't beat the quality.
The place above my bed where I put good song lyrics. I really like the black ink and white paper and blue walls together.
Simply the most wonderful Post-It notes ever. I think they're adorable (these have notes on them for a story).
My bedside table. Claire says it's a wreck, but I think it's a good sort of wreck, the best kind. Books: An Annie Dillard collection, a book of sonnets, the notebook I write poetry in, the notebook I doodle in when I can't sleep (doodling being defined for a verbal person like me as 'writing down lots of random words'), David Copperfield, Gulliver's Travels, my Bible, Shirley by Charlotte Bronte, a collection of Wislava Szymborska (the polish-lady-poet), Complete Stories of Eudora Welty, Pride and Prejudice, my journal (which I haven't written in in three months, probably because this stack is so tall I can't get to it), the book I copy good poems into, and a Bible with study notes. The CD's are my favoritey favorites, the ones I love enough to merit them a place on this crowded bit of real estate. You can probably see what they are, but the ones not in cases are Myself When I Am Real, Michael Feinstien sings Gershwin, and a CD of various jazz/big band.
Eleven and a half years later, it's still one of my favorite school lunches. When Queenie was expecting Spuddy Buddy, The Shieldmaiden and I practically lived on this stuff.
Our tree-top angel from when we were little. We recently got a new one, but The Shieldmaiden and I are sentimental fools and couldn't let the old gal go. She now sits atop my bookcase and serves wonderfully as a lamp.
And lastest but not leastest, our blog. Oh how I love it. It's such great fun.
Our thinking vs. God's promises
"It's impossible."
The things which are impossible with men are possible with God.
(Luke 18:27)
"I'm too tired."
Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
(Matthew 11:28-30)
"Nobody really loves me."
For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son...
(John 3:16)
"I can't go on."
My grace is sufficient for thee.
(II Corinthians 12:19)
"I can't figure things out."
Man's goings are of the Lord; how can a man then understand his own way?
(Proverbs 20:24; and 3:5&6)
"I can't do it."
I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me...
(Phillipians 4:13)
"I'm not able."
And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work...
(II Corinthians 9:8)
"It's not worth it."
For we know that all things work together for good to them that love God...
(Romans 8:28)
"I can't forgive myself."
If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins...
(I John 1:9)
"I can't manage."
But my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
(Phillipians 4:19)
"I'm afraid."
For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
(II Timothy 1:7)
"I'm always worried and frustrated."
Cast all your care upon Him for He careth for you...
(I Peter 5:7)
"I'm not smart enough."
If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.
(James 1:5)
"I feel all alone."
I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.
(Hebrews 13:5)
February 1, 2006
The Secret Life of Fa
Q. Shenaynay
It's amazing what you can learn about your own family when they are under the weather and off their usual game.
For several nights now, Fa-So-La-La and I have been camping out on the two sofas in our living room, because our usual respective bedfellows are considerably sicker than we are. This sleeping arrangement wasn't purposed to be fun (Fa and I don't feel so hot ourselves, mind you), but since we have never figured out how not to have a blast together, we're beginning to feel like we're having some twisted slumber party adventure, albeit one punctuated by coughing fits.
And the mother in me is beginning to think that daughters and I should maybe do this sort of thing more often (minus the cooties, though)... because it's funny how scenarios like this -- a late hour, a cup of hot tea in the dark, enough time for slow, pondering conversations -- can prompt a girl to come out with the things she normally keeps locked up tight in the dark corners of her heart. Amazing.
But not all such secret revelations are intentional. For last night I learned about one of Fa's really amusing, endearing, charming quirks -- something I honestly did not know about her.
When she thought I had fallen asleep, she cocooned herself tight in her blanket and began to hum. It was quiet and breathy at first. And then I began to make out that she was puzzling out the shape note syllables. She would spit out a string of them -- "mi-- re mi do do mi re do re mi re" -- and then hit a snag and whisper, "no no..." and start over. It got faster and faster, and then suddenly changed: "so so re re do re mi re do-- do-- re re mi fa mi re..." She quietly ripped through the notes to the entire hymn, at shocking speed. Then she paused. I could almost hear her thinking, "drats, I'm still awake." I was chuckling into my pillow and feeling big fuzzy waves of affection for my sweet girl - I mean, how charming it is to learn such a dear thing about a person you love so much. So this is what she does about her blasted insomnia... wonderful.
And then she started another hymn, but slowly this time. I recognized it -- her old standby, the one she turns to when life seems uncertain and out of her control... "do-- do re mi so- la- so mi re do, so- la do do ti la so la..." -- and somewhere in the middle of a stanza, her voice began to sound like I remember it from her little girl days -- easy, assured, unstudied and unspeakably sweet -- and then all I heard was peaceful breathing. She was asleep. She was smiling.
(Fa says virtual M&M's to the first person who can name those three hymns!)
It's amazing what you can learn about your own family when they are under the weather and off their usual game.
For several nights now, Fa-So-La-La and I have been camping out on the two sofas in our living room, because our usual respective bedfellows are considerably sicker than we are. This sleeping arrangement wasn't purposed to be fun (Fa and I don't feel so hot ourselves, mind you), but since we have never figured out how not to have a blast together, we're beginning to feel like we're having some twisted slumber party adventure, albeit one punctuated by coughing fits.
And the mother in me is beginning to think that daughters and I should maybe do this sort of thing more often (minus the cooties, though)... because it's funny how scenarios like this -- a late hour, a cup of hot tea in the dark, enough time for slow, pondering conversations -- can prompt a girl to come out with the things she normally keeps locked up tight in the dark corners of her heart. Amazing.
But not all such secret revelations are intentional. For last night I learned about one of Fa's really amusing, endearing, charming quirks -- something I honestly did not know about her.
When she thought I had fallen asleep, she cocooned herself tight in her blanket and began to hum. It was quiet and breathy at first. And then I began to make out that she was puzzling out the shape note syllables. She would spit out a string of them -- "mi-- re mi do do mi re do re mi re" -- and then hit a snag and whisper, "no no..." and start over. It got faster and faster, and then suddenly changed: "so so re re do re mi re do-- do-- re re mi fa mi re..." She quietly ripped through the notes to the entire hymn, at shocking speed. Then she paused. I could almost hear her thinking, "drats, I'm still awake." I was chuckling into my pillow and feeling big fuzzy waves of affection for my sweet girl - I mean, how charming it is to learn such a dear thing about a person you love so much. So this is what she does about her blasted insomnia... wonderful.
And then she started another hymn, but slowly this time. I recognized it -- her old standby, the one she turns to when life seems uncertain and out of her control... "do-- do re mi so- la- so mi re do, so- la do do ti la so la..." -- and somewhere in the middle of a stanza, her voice began to sound like I remember it from her little girl days -- easy, assured, unstudied and unspeakably sweet -- and then all I heard was peaceful breathing. She was asleep. She was smiling.
(Fa says virtual M&M's to the first person who can name those three hymns!)
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