note to self:

full disclosure

five eight things you shouldn’t do when suffering a sinus infection and withdrawing from xanax:

1. drive

2. make promises

3. eat ice cream/drink coffee

4. converse with neighbors
5. look in the mirror (especially with reading glasses)

6. take personality tests

7. view optical illusions

8. listen to Syd Barrett

all fall down

I used to think fall was my favorite season, but now I realize it’s not. While I can’t wait for summer to end, it’s winter that I pine for. That sweet period between Christmas and Easter when the days are cool, the rain is gentle, the to-do list short, the kettle whistling and the shire…quiet.

I didn’t know I was so sensitive to smoke and ash, yet my sinuses have been screaming obscenities at my ears and I’m carrying enough baggage under my eyes to store Nicole Richie’s jean collection. Consequently, I’ve been holed up with a humidifier watching Project Runway, The Flavor of Love, E Channel and Food Network. My dear friend Jay surprised me with four copies of The Believer magazine in my mailbox this weekend. What a perfect antidote for the poison of the tube.

faith in violence

Very good dialogue regarding the Pope’s recent remarks and the ensuing uproar among Muslims.

Before or after you read it, take a look at this one too.

Community isn’t a buzzword

It’s a living organism, created and existing to care for people. Caring for people is a form of worship. Worship is an expression of love/adoration for the Creator. So, is community itself a form of worship? Are the activities inherent to caring for people as lived out daily by and through community heard by the Creator as a sweet song of worship?

On the subject of death

Everything has a lifespan.

Everything’s coming up ashes

Ick. It must officially be fall as the air was laden with smoke when we went to sleep at 1 a.m. Uncharacteristically, we slept with all the windows closed. When we got up, the shire was dotted with ash. The Day Fire is quite a distance from us but the Star reported that Santa Ana Winds caused it to take a more westerly direction last night. Damn Santa Ana’s. Good thing I liberally watered all the plants before sundown yesterday.

Hemlock Lane: a poem

I wrote this for a Soliton exercise last year. We were supposed to go to a street, sit there for a while and write about it. I went to my street (an alley, actually) because Sam was home doing homework and I didn’t want to stray too far. This is what I came up with. Any ideas what it’s about?

Hemlock Lane

Bottle brush bristles collect like blood
in asphalt cracks
oily maps for can collectors and ravens
Get in the house Mija, run!
Your faded playhouse, chickenwire castle
will not crumble in your absence
Leave your horse and carriage behind
late afternoon casts a wicked shadow
upon pretty litttle girls and imaginary heroes
But, chivalry is not dead on Hemlock Ln.
A new color was born today, do you see it Mija?
Do you see it? It’s for you.

foul weather friendship

I think J and I might be bonding around the parking situation. Today I heard the property manager for the Becker building getting an estimate for a chain link fence. The plan is to permanently lock us out of the upper lot. I heard him say, “We tried doing it the nice way.” I must have been gone for “the nice way,” or memory fails my 40-plus mind. So, I opened my door and stood there for a moment surveying the situation. The exisiting barrier is lattice that’s covered with creeping fig, so it’s not as if I was just staring at the two men. Just then, J came out and together we watched and listened. The manager approached the barrier and rudely asked me if he could help me. I told him, “No thanks, I’m just standing in my doorway, ya know.” So J said to me, “Must be something in the air these days.” I asked her if she’d experienced similar posturing lately and she said yes, close to home in fact. Very close. I listened and she talked. She opened up about some personal troubles and I feebly attempted to encourage her. Her humility in exposing her pain evoked compassion in me. Something is happening…

read my mail

Last week I slipped two notes into two mailboxes belonging to residents of the shire. One was a thank you note to J and K for taking care of things quickly (Darn, I forgot to mention the tomatoes) the other was a note to the neighbors rarely seen explaining that 4:30 a.m. is a little early to be hosing down their deck and inadvertently, our roof.

Tonight, I went up to get the mail where I encountered the neighbors rarely seen as they were leaving. I think it’s actually the first time I’ve seen both of them. Actually, I didn’t know there were two. A couple maybe? My note wasn’t particularly bitchy as I’m increasingly conscious of my approach and tone with people. Yet, when I looked up from my mailbox and one of them said, “Hello,” and it was a warm, “Hello,” I felt myself wanting to hide. I sort of grunted out a cowardly, “Hi” and headed toward my car.

Note to self: Keep trying to be friendly, eventually you WILL catch on.