1. Leftover roast potatoes, which can be turned into the most delicious hash (p.s. that link takes hash way more seriously than I do...but it looks delicious!). This hash can also be accompanied by
2. Roast asparagus spears and
3. Berries with just a little bit of sugar on them. Don't be sniffy--just a little!
4. The swoopy, swift, fluid passing of the Golden State Warriors, along with
5. Stephen Curry's baby face, and also
6. His darling baby girl.
7. Pink.
8. The pair of navy blue cigarette trousers that survived all the closet purges of recent years, and which got me through some anxiety today. Navy blue cigarette trousers back you up, yo.
9. The fact that, for the most part, these days I don't have to go looking for a grown up outfit to wear to meetings that make me anxious in advance.
10. The Publication Center at SLCC. It is so choice.
11. This website, and also this series of photos.
12. This song, don't judge.
13. The way the air feels so cool when we take Bruiser for his walk at night.
Showing posts with label list. Show all posts
Showing posts with label list. Show all posts
Thursday, June 04, 2015
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Top 10 things about being home.
1. I located the following in my kitchen, without having to give any of it a thought: box of pancake mix, egg, milk, sunflower oil, maple syrup, griddle, plug for griddle, butter, knife. My favorite mug. A yellow plate.
2. I slept till the blessed hour of 10 a.m.
3. The comfortable bed in my study.
4. Quiet morning.
5. Buying groceries for the week.
6. The sounds of my son's friends downstairs.
7. Going to my daughter's for 'hodge podge bbq,' her words, and eating outside while the children played and ran around, as if it were spring or something.
8. Bruiser, ever faithful, ever waggy, ever at the door when I'm carrying the groceries in from the car.
9. My bed, ever faithful, ever cozy, ever the best night sleep guarantor. Well, usually.
10. The whole street has burst into bloom.
(the item that is without number): Seeing the historian at the airport, and when I woke up. Taking a walk in the morning and evening with him and Bruiser. Listening to him at his desk in the next room. Watching television together.
Tomorrow: work. But today: home.
2. I slept till the blessed hour of 10 a.m.
3. The comfortable bed in my study.
4. Quiet morning.
5. Buying groceries for the week.
6. The sounds of my son's friends downstairs.
7. Going to my daughter's for 'hodge podge bbq,' her words, and eating outside while the children played and ran around, as if it were spring or something.
8. Bruiser, ever faithful, ever waggy, ever at the door when I'm carrying the groceries in from the car.
9. My bed, ever faithful, ever cozy, ever the best night sleep guarantor. Well, usually.
10. The whole street has burst into bloom.
(the item that is without number): Seeing the historian at the airport, and when I woke up. Taking a walk in the morning and evening with him and Bruiser. Listening to him at his desk in the next room. Watching television together.
Tomorrow: work. But today: home.
Monday, December 01, 2014
Notes for December.
Here are the things I want to do in December so far.
See a billion movies.
Bake and eat cookies.
Make delicious wintry dinners.
Eat pancakes.
Get a Christmas tree.
Read.
Nap.
Look at Christmas lights, the more colors and blow up figures and white-light-reindeer the better.
Go to Louisiana for college daughter's graduation!
Have piles of family fun with the folks around here, and those visiting.
Possibly take on an epic television program like (finally) Breaking Bad.
OR just watch a zillion episodes of Modern Family or so.
I would like to go for a wander downtown or around a neighborhood with my camera.
I would like to walk someplace where there is water.
This little listicle does not really comprise a story, it is desultory and generic. But I tell you, tonight while we were walking with Bruiser, we walked past a house that had a snowman with lights that changed colors, including all pink, and I thought: December, it is on. Bring me your everything: your evergreen, your wreath, your tangled strands with fizzly bulbs, your too much noise and crowds and excess of desire, your quiet and melancholy. Bring the darkest night. Bring your stars and bring the cold. Bring snow. I'm in the mood for a solstice and a nativity, for song and candles: let's sing and light them together.
Monday, November 24, 2014
In which I write another post for this blog, for no apparent reason.
Five good things:
1. Chinese takeout, just waiting to be dinner.
2. A cold walk on a brilliant afternoon.
3. Possibly the best socks ever.
4. The proximity of no more grading for a week. Almost there!
5. Such good movies on the horizon.
Oh, okay. A few more:
6. Thanksgiving is just around the corner!
7. Ergo, pie!
8. My LSU daughter is just about to graduate!
9. Ergo, beignets! in New Orleans!
10. Yesterday, I wrote a poem. For no good reason!
Let's see if I can blog again tomorrow for no apparent reason.
Wednesday, October 08, 2014
Some things about the hospital.
1. No one, and I mean no one, can predict when the doctor is going to come around.
Except for that 6:30 a.m. rounds thing.
2. I have eaten the same sad salad at the salad bar too many times.
Lettuce, kidney beans, mushrooms, carrots, cucumbers. Croutons, a few. Some sort of ranch-y dressing. What can I say? It is my go-to salad bar salad, and unless the salad bar is quite fancy, it'll do, or have to do.
3. Places I have spent a lot of time:
The surgical waiting room. The CVICU. The Starbucks in the lobby. The cafeteria.
4. There is fairly reliable wireless. So you can "teach" from the hospital.
5. Your nurses are what you have going for you, most of the time.
Most of them are pretty awesome.
6. When things get unnerving, the whole gamut of medical professionals are an awesome team.
However, the minute there are a million specialists coming in and out of the room, you can have a bunch of different narratives of what is happening, and someone needs to be there to synthesize. And critically think. And generally to resist, even if for a few moments.
7. It would be amazing to be able to ward off their worst case scenarios. Like, with a shield or something.
I would tell you some of the scenarios spoken in certain ICU rooms, but you, dear reader, don't really need that. You really don't.
8. The doctor will say things to you, but unless he writes it down, it's as if you made it up.
You know, when you try to tell it to a nurse later. Is it rude to say to the doctor, "So are you writing that down?"
Also, today, when we were trying to track down a chimerical order that was spoken but not written, one of our nurses said, "I'm gonna see if I can track down those CT desperadoes and get to the bottom of this."
9. I wish I could send a dozen roses to one of our nurses from the ICU.
Because he was splendid.
10. In the cafeteria's favor, they do have Banbury Cross doughnuts.
Except for that 6:30 a.m. rounds thing.
2. I have eaten the same sad salad at the salad bar too many times.
Lettuce, kidney beans, mushrooms, carrots, cucumbers. Croutons, a few. Some sort of ranch-y dressing. What can I say? It is my go-to salad bar salad, and unless the salad bar is quite fancy, it'll do, or have to do.
3. Places I have spent a lot of time:
The surgical waiting room. The CVICU. The Starbucks in the lobby. The cafeteria.
4. There is fairly reliable wireless. So you can "teach" from the hospital.
5. Your nurses are what you have going for you, most of the time.
Most of them are pretty awesome.
6. When things get unnerving, the whole gamut of medical professionals are an awesome team.
However, the minute there are a million specialists coming in and out of the room, you can have a bunch of different narratives of what is happening, and someone needs to be there to synthesize. And critically think. And generally to resist, even if for a few moments.
7. It would be amazing to be able to ward off their worst case scenarios. Like, with a shield or something.
I would tell you some of the scenarios spoken in certain ICU rooms, but you, dear reader, don't really need that. You really don't.
8. The doctor will say things to you, but unless he writes it down, it's as if you made it up.
You know, when you try to tell it to a nurse later. Is it rude to say to the doctor, "So are you writing that down?"
Also, today, when we were trying to track down a chimerical order that was spoken but not written, one of our nurses said, "I'm gonna see if I can track down those CT desperadoes and get to the bottom of this."
9. I wish I could send a dozen roses to one of our nurses from the ICU.
Because he was splendid.
10. In the cafeteria's favor, they do have Banbury Cross doughnuts.
Monday, March 03, 2014
Well well well.
I have accomplished the following recently:
1. achieved the insight that, if I'm behind, I feel I don't have time to write--or that taking time to write might put me further behind, so, you know. Hence, no writing.
2. what the hell.
That said,
3. I arrived home from Seattle,
4. did the laundry,
5. cooked a dinner last night,
6. enthused/ranted about the Oscar on various social media, and to Bruiser and the historian,
7. made pancakes for myself,
8. made approximately 4% progress on my To Do list,
9. ate lunch with my daughter and granddaughter,
10. came home and made 4% more progress (total, if you're keeping track: 8% progress),
11. was the guest speaker in the class of a friend,
12. came home and ordered a vegetable pizza like a boss,
13. and so forth.
Upshot: still behind, but writing a list-y blog post.
One of the things on my list was to
14. organize all AWP notes, which
15. I have not yet done.
I do, however, have all my AWP swag
16. organized in a single bag.
17. the AWP tote bag. So, you know.
18. what the hell.
That said, I did
19. make a new header and background for my blog, and
20. write/"write" a blog post. So, you know.
That is twenty things I have accomplished, the people. I don't know what you're complaining about.
Bonus accomplishments:
21. clean sheets,
22. have listened to new Beck album (verdict: gorgeous)
23. have chatted with son in China and
24. both other sons via text. AND
25. I have a more than vague idea of what I will do in class, and
26. most importantly, I have a plan to accomplish all the other stuff I need to get done. So, you know.
A plan is literally the best.
1. achieved the insight that, if I'm behind, I feel I don't have time to write--or that taking time to write might put me further behind, so, you know. Hence, no writing.
2. what the hell.
That said,
3. I arrived home from Seattle,
4. did the laundry,
5. cooked a dinner last night,
6. enthused/ranted about the Oscar on various social media, and to Bruiser and the historian,
7. made pancakes for myself,
8. made approximately 4% progress on my To Do list,
9. ate lunch with my daughter and granddaughter,
10. came home and made 4% more progress (total, if you're keeping track: 8% progress),
11. was the guest speaker in the class of a friend,
12. came home and ordered a vegetable pizza like a boss,
13. and so forth.
Upshot: still behind, but writing a list-y blog post.
One of the things on my list was to
14. organize all AWP notes, which
15. I have not yet done.
I do, however, have all my AWP swag
16. organized in a single bag.
17. the AWP tote bag. So, you know.
18. what the hell.
That said, I did
19. make a new header and background for my blog, and
20. write/"write" a blog post. So, you know.
That is twenty things I have accomplished, the people. I don't know what you're complaining about.
Bonus accomplishments:
21. clean sheets,
22. have listened to new Beck album (verdict: gorgeous)
23. have chatted with son in China and
24. both other sons via text. AND
25. I have a more than vague idea of what I will do in class, and
26. most importantly, I have a plan to accomplish all the other stuff I need to get done. So, you know.
A plan is literally the best.
Sunday, January 05, 2014
this & that.
I think I would like seeing this.
Someone should figure out how to make all of these clothes for me, stat.
I have reached the point in this particular cold where I would rather blow my nose than take this or this anymore.
This guy will be back from Mumbai in January (for two months)--can't wait to see him!
Sure, I'll be watching this, but with a jaundiced eye.
On the other hand, we'll be watching this (streaming) and DVRing this (so we can binge-watch later).
Hoping to visit the modern-day version of this town over spring break.
When we visit Chengdu this spring, I hope I get to see this.
Having an after school snack with this guy on Monday, and sneaking kisses from this tiny girl.
I'll be sorry to see these two go home tomorrow afternoon.
Loved watching this again with my son and his friend.
I hope I hope I hope that these people will be in Utah this summer.
Looking forward to being well again, so I can finally see this (after reading this and this and this).
This is compulsively readable!
Someone should figure out how to make all of these clothes for me, stat.
I have reached the point in this particular cold where I would rather blow my nose than take this or this anymore.
This guy will be back from Mumbai in January (for two months)--can't wait to see him!
Sure, I'll be watching this, but with a jaundiced eye.
On the other hand, we'll be watching this (streaming) and DVRing this (so we can binge-watch later).
Hoping to visit the modern-day version of this town over spring break.
When we visit Chengdu this spring, I hope I get to see this.
Having an after school snack with this guy on Monday, and sneaking kisses from this tiny girl.
I'll be sorry to see these two go home tomorrow afternoon.
Loved watching this again with my son and his friend.
I hope I hope I hope that these people will be in Utah this summer.
Looking forward to being well again, so I can finally see this (after reading this and this and this).
This is compulsively readable!
Monday, July 08, 2013
Litany of small pleasures.
1. The daily walk. I am sorry to say that I am not yet at full strength, but this morning I decided to take the walk anyway, and it made me feel so much better. Just moving.
2. Two awesome songs in a row. This has been an endless joy to me, back to the days when you mostly just listened to the radio. That also happened to be the days when radio djs actually programmed their own music (which still happens, I believe, on BBC radio, which is yet another thing that makes the UK awesome). Anyway, today on my shuffle, on my walk, first this awesome song by Robyn came on [warning: language!], then "This is Not America" by David Bowie and Pat Metheny, one right after the other, and I loved it.
3. Eating my breakfast on the patio. Where the birds are singing and the breeze (not to say a hot wind, not yet anyway) is blowing and the wind chimes are making their music.
4. A whole day ahead of me, wherein I can do what I want and need to do.
5. Toast.
6. Waking up to the light.
7. Bruiser hopping up on bed between us for a small pre-arising-for-real snooze.
8. A slow morning.
The people, I hope that your day has many small pleasures in it. For that matter, also large pleasures.
2. Two awesome songs in a row. This has been an endless joy to me, back to the days when you mostly just listened to the radio. That also happened to be the days when radio djs actually programmed their own music (which still happens, I believe, on BBC radio, which is yet another thing that makes the UK awesome). Anyway, today on my shuffle, on my walk, first this awesome song by Robyn came on [warning: language!], then "This is Not America" by David Bowie and Pat Metheny, one right after the other, and I loved it.
3. Eating my breakfast on the patio. Where the birds are singing and the breeze (not to say a hot wind, not yet anyway) is blowing and the wind chimes are making their music.
4. A whole day ahead of me, wherein I can do what I want and need to do.
5. Toast.
6. Waking up to the light.
7. Bruiser hopping up on bed between us for a small pre-arising-for-real snooze.
8. A slow morning.
The people, I hope that your day has many small pleasures in it. For that matter, also large pleasures.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
A few things that I like.
1. saltines.
2. Emergen-C.
3. playing with the grandchildren.
4. episodes of The New Girl and The Mindy Project.
5. a late afternoon nap.
6. a walk in the cool spring evening.
7. yellow skirt, yellow sweater, yellow shirt.
8. yellow sneaks.
9. teaching the stories that Dr. Write gave me.
10. the Thursday New York Times.
11. an unspent gift card from Target.
12. more light more light more light.
feeling good, the people. also: I think you're swell.
2. Emergen-C.
3. playing with the grandchildren.
4. episodes of The New Girl and The Mindy Project.
5. a late afternoon nap.
6. a walk in the cool spring evening.
7. yellow skirt, yellow sweater, yellow shirt.
8. yellow sneaks.
9. teaching the stories that Dr. Write gave me.
10. the Thursday New York Times.
11. an unspent gift card from Target.
12. more light more light more light.
feeling good, the people. also: I think you're swell.
Monday, July 18, 2011
The good things.
Having my daughter home for a few weeks before she launches into a big brand-new adventure.
Cherries in the fridge. Iced tea morning noon and night. Lemonade. Toast.
AC in the afternoon. The breeze sifting through the trees in the morning. Windchimes. Sitting on the patio for an hour or two, writing.
A beautiful, big, wonderful dog who wants to go on a walk, morning noon and night, and who greets us at the door with a whole-body wag.
Realizing that I have the doldrums every single summer at the exact same time, a realization which allows me to mitigate it, even if a little, even just by writing a list of the good things.
Writing, always. Always.
An old friend, a new friend, the oldest friend.
Daughters and sons, hither and yon.
The beautiful, loyal, funny and smart historian, who is always on my side.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Some stuff I could tell you about.
1. how my oven has it in for me.
2. how our lights are flickering, dimming, then brightening (poltergeist?).
3. how we're calling an oven repair guy and an electrician guy tomorrow morning (also: exorcist?).
4. how the e-mail is still a-tricklin' in.
5. how there is a dearth of excellent Christmas movies showing up on television at the moment--is The Wedding Crashers a Christmas movie? I submit to you that it is not.
6. on the other hand, if I never see White Christmas again, that will be just fine with me.
7. how we ate (a) jasmine rice, (b) broccolini, and (c) plain old salad, plus (d) oranges and bananas for dinner: the plainest dinner ever. Did it ever taste good.
8. how it is super cold when you walk the dog at 11:15 p.m.
9. how I got a draft of a poem ready for my writing group.
10. how I still have so much grading to do.
But I can't tell you about any of these things, because it's bedtime. See you tomorrow.
p.s. I really want to eat these.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
A couple of notes on writing.
1. Your plan is nonsense. That list you've made of what you're going to do today, during the 3 or 4 hours you've got to write? You will almost certainly not accomplish what is on that list. And if you do, it won't be an actual accomplishment, more like a gesture in the direction of the eventual accomplishment. You hope. Because that's how writing is.
2. You are going to flail. Just because the last time you took 3 or 4 hours to write, you were able to draft two whole new poems about of your piles of notes, it doesn't mean you're going to turn this particular pile of notes into a whole new draft. Probably, what you'll do is add more notes to the pile. More notes do not add up to a draft.
3. Writing does not necessarily make you feel good, at least not right now. If only you weren't in a coffee house, with people studying for their math exams on the left, their chemistry exams on your right, and talking on their cell phones straight ahead of you--if those people weren't there, and if Christmas music weren't playing overhead, and if all the above weren't be punctuated by steam and clinking ceramics, you could just break down and cry like you want to. Come on. You know you want to.
4. Sometimes the notes you added to the pile of notes yesterday turn into a draft today. Yippee!
5. So it turns out, that list actually does help. It just might take you a little longer to cross stuff off. A little longer, or a lot longer.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Top 5 of everything.
At the moment, anyway--
2. Baby walks around saying "Oh my GAH"
3. Bruiser
4. Googling "cottage in France" and finding a bazillion, some of which we could afford
5. the memory of Ireland
Thursday, April 15, 2010
To do.
Things I need, really really need, to do:
- plant 10,000 poppies
- plant a hedge of red roses, like Sleeping Beauty
- prune my roses
- paint my bedroom
- strip the bedroom wallpaper so I can paint my bedroom
- air everything out
- clean like mad
- think for hours without talking to anyone
- write no more letters forever
- wake up when I wake up
- be outside
- give grave and deeply considered thoughts to things like dinner
- purchase the food of spring, with many many vegetables
- put all my sweaters away
- put all my tights away
Today's poem. Who knows how many poems there will be by the actual end of April.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Signs that a young person is living at home again.
I asked running son--who came home from the wide, dangerous world just before Christmas, then left to visit his dad in Lousiana for two weeks, but will be coming home again tomorrow for about 6 weeks until he races off again, this time to Beijing--what he wanted me to buy at the store. You know: provisions. Here's what he said:
TAGS: provisions, signs, horrible food, food that cannot seriously sustain life, food that 20-something males eat, junk
Nacho Spicier Doritos
Frozen Pizzas
Ham and Cheese supplies
Tortillas
Tortilla Chips
Salsa
Fruit Snacks
Hot Dog Stuff
Are we out of Ketchup? I think so
Ranch
Gram Crackers
The Chapelle Show
Apple Juice
or some other exotic JuiceThat should be good, thanks for looking out for me
You are totally welcome.
TAGS: provisions, signs, horrible food, food that cannot seriously sustain life, food that 20-something males eat, junk
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Michael Phelps vs. me: an eat-off.
Because I have to fuel myself to, y'know, get through my day, here's what I ate today:
Upon arising:
I know, you're asking: Where are the proprietary energy drinks? Why so little mayonnaise?
On the other hand, having leftovers from your previous evening's book group makes dinner preparation a snap. In fact, the only major calorie burning activities today? Shopping and cutting up that watermelon.
Upon arising:
- a little orange juice to drown my Claritin
- an omelet with spinach and mushrooms
- the hashbrowns God eats when he has breakfast
- sourdough toast
- potato chips
- lemonade
- leftover piece of cherry tart
- leftover tabbouleh
- leftover cucumber salad
- leftover crostini with tomato topping
- watermelon
I know, you're asking: Where are the proprietary energy drinks? Why so little mayonnaise?
On the other hand, having leftovers from your previous evening's book group makes dinner preparation a snap. In fact, the only major calorie burning activities today? Shopping and cutting up that watermelon.
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