As the mother of an almost middle-schooler, I’m happy to report that Judy Blume is alive and well and working her magic at my house.
Nothing against Harry Potter or Percy Jackson, but sometimes a girl just wants to read about a girl not unlike herself, a girl mulling over friendship and religion and bras. And stuff like that.
Having Judy Blume swoop onto the scene with Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret is like having the perfect aunt come to stay — with empathy and understanding, humor and gumption packed in her suitcase. I’m so grateful she’s here…
"… stay aware, listen carefully, and yell for help if you need it…" — Judy Blume
I have a sick Small One home with me today.
She’s already had tea, a bath, and all varieties of nasty-tasting tinctures.
But still, she’s feeling mad and powerless.
There are only seven days of school left, and she wants to be there for each one.
(Cue the irony here regarding the many days of school that sounded, um, less than appealing to her…)
"What would you say to those germs if they could hear you?" I asked.
There was quite a pause.
She closed her eyes.
And when she opened them, she said, "Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste and get you from our court!"
I’m well aware that Friday, May 21st isn’t any sort of new year. It is, in fact, the end of the week and nearly the end of both the month and the academic calendar. (Hallelujah.) But it’s new for me in that I officially miss blogging and am ready to get back at it.
Today it’s easy — I have a crown sonnet to share! A few years back, I worked on my first crown with a group of Austin poets called The Brass Tacks. I said yes before I knew how scary they were. Since then, as many of you know, I’ve dealt with my Crown Sonnet PTSD by inflicting it upon our very own Poetry Princesses. (Bwah ha ha…)
Now, that first crown has been published in the online journal Poemeleon, and here it is! I wrote the final sonnet for our piece, which means my first line was the last line of the sixth sonnet and my last line was the first line of the whole thing. You’ll see how it works if you give it a read — it’s quite a puzzle.
To tempt you, here’s some of the first sonnet by the very fine poet and my good friend D’Arcy Randall:
from Rising Water: A Crown of Sonnets
Sometimes you feel it lapping round your knees — the life — that life — the one in dreams that lifts you out to sea. It’s like a bass line riff perceptible beneath the melodies, but nothing you can attend. As if set free again, it tosses back its hair, stiff with salt, and aims its surfboard toward the cliff, across the chops of waves. Who could foresee it could swerve in time? And not allow the swell to lift it high, then dash to smithereens?
(Read the rest of D’Arcy’s, and 6 more in this crown, here!)
It has been, as I suspected it would be, a delight to look through this particular lens each day this month. Honestly, it never ceases to amaze me what an expansive container this teeny tiny form actually is. And, like last year, I have a feeling I won’t step so easily away from it. I’m used to looking around this way now.
I want to thank you all again, those of you who’ve stopped by and, often, left notes. I’ve not been good at responding, which I regret because I do so love the conversation.
More soon and in the meantime, namaste.
Haiku 30 4/30/201
Run along the lake past chess boards, homeless men, gulls. Where is it I fit?
So much to say today, and hardly a hint of oomph with which to say it.
I’m in Chicago. I arrived this morning, which feels like about three mornings ago.
I would like to write about my school and library visits this afternoon. (Funny) (And cute)
And I would like to write about the warm and gushy way Greg shared my poem today at Gottabook. (Warm and gushy) (And blushy)
And I would really, really like to tell you about being here in this city and space with my agents and about 20 of my agent mates, talking about books and schools and blogs and editors and, oh, chocolate and yoga and stuff. (Funny) (And cute)
But I’ll have to wait and share some of that over the weekend.
Right now I just want to say that today is my husband’s 46th birthday.
He is currently in between feeling "bad" and feeling "worse" thanks to the curse of dividing cells and the wonders of modern medicine. But nonetheless, he is at home celebrating his birthday by taking Small One to gymnastics and helping Tall One learn a mariachi tune on her violin and just being the all-around good guy that he is.
All the things I’d like to say about him right now would sound a little sappy and sentimental and starry-eyed. So, instead, here’s his birthday haiku.
And thanks, Honey, for everything….
Haiku 29 4/29/2010
You leave breathing room, space for birds to sing, and fly. So of course they do.
This is from this morning but I’m just getting around to posting it now. I love mornings. I know lots of folks call that certifiably crazy but I just plain do.
Haiku 27 4/27/10
Toast and marmalade and a wren at the window. What does today hold?
When you have a house full of kids and animals, there’s always something new, something happen’. I’m beginning to think that’s kind of the point of having a house full of kids and animals. Y’know?
Haiku 26 4/26/10
hermit crab molting a new shell and skeleton a new joie de vivre
We went to the dreamiest wedding on Saturday evening.
I love weddings. I always cry (which is one of the things I love) and I get both nostalgic and happily expectant at the same time.
I especially adore outdoor weddings. I had one, so I’m biased, but I think there’s nothing so conducive to a big, beautiful, expansive marriage as gathering all of a couples’ friends and families together with the bugs and birds and wind and sky, in recognition and celebration. Really, I think it’s a visceral way to say, "Yes, we’re ready for everything, bring it in and on…"
And this is never truer than when rain taunts (which, as a rule, it does). You’ve planned an outdoor wedding and rain taunts and you have to be both flexible and hopeful, both prepared and willing to be surprised. And not to oversimplify life or marriage or anything, but what else is there?
For this wedding, all the rain (and threatened rain) of last week went away. The sun came out, the fields dried up, the hoop house at the farm was laid with long, simple tables and strung with tiny white lights. Charley and Sarah were married. Happiness and mazel tov.
Haiku 24 4/24/2010
crops in sunset fields bride and groom under chuppah what fine promises
