Resolving to Resolve

My firmness of intent is most firm. 

Sweeping the crumbs of my infirmities into my back pocket, I'm determined to follow a plan. 

Be it a progression from dissonance to cacophony. 

Be it a formal declaration of my reconfiguration. 

Be it settled.

From this day forward, more unfastening, more angles (and more angels), more and more resolution.

Starting in about 16 hours, more abandon, more baggage--an excess of the barely luggable.

Coming to a theatre near you, an outrageous incongruity.

In 2009 I will probably bite my nails even more.

In 2009 an imposition of risk.  

In 2009 I will find the OED that's been packed in a box in our basement since April 2004.

In 2009 I will make the most attainable suggestions.

In 2009 I will work on the next five poems.

In 2009 my voice from within me will tell my voice from within me that it's within me to be tremendously striving.

In 2009, endpoints.

In 2009, time frames.

In 2009, failure gets a time-out; endeavor gets a playdate and a pajama party. 

It's 2009.  StarSong and Pinkey Pie take to the skies, their sparkly manes festooned with sparkly hair ties.

 

Much Ado about a Bare-Chested Barack

As we approach our annual New Year's celebration, we'll have the usual proseco (not champagne, Italian sparkling wine) and oysters (yes, we get them at Mutual Fish for a fraction of the cost you'd pay at a restaurant), our usual posse of old friends each providing a delectable course (one year a couple threw together a paella that would make a Spaniard's cold heart melt). But this year, instead of grumbling about the sorry state of our country, and despite the economic downturn /crisis/ nightmare/ had-it-coming-to-us mess, we will be raising our glasses to the future, and this year we will do this with sincerity and honest excitement. 

Okay, so he has a nice baud, too--what's the big fuss? We should all be nuding up on Jan 1 and jumping polar-bear style into the nearest icy lake. Yeeowwww!!

Happy New Year, everyone. 

Okay, My Turn to Interview Myself

I'm taking the Deborah Ager (32poems) challenge. Not sure anyone gives a hoot, but here goes:

Age when I decided I wanted to be a writer: 9 (started a diary)

First short story written: 6th grade (Footsie Island)

Age when I started working on a word processor: Not until at least 34, unless you count stealing time at law firms where I worked as a secretary.

Age submitted short story to a mag, sold one, number sold: have written a few short stories, not published any.

Sold a poem: you mean the first time an editor paid me money for a poem? My mid-30s?

Poems sold: maybe a dozen? (Average payment: $20, if a payment at all). 

Year of first book: 1999

Books pubbed: 2

In print: one definite, one semi (you can find it used pretty easily, though)

Age: 47

Am I writing more since my 401 (K) tanked and it got really cold here in Seattle? Yes, I believe I am. Every free minute I've been editing a poem I started last February. It is almost finished, so not sure what will happen next, but probably I'll start editing the other unfinished ones on my pile (I have about 6).  I have been reading actual books (even if it's only for five minutes at a time) and going to the library a ton. And eating more at home. And shopping more at Trader Joe's. And checking to see if Ebay has it. And bartering. And we joined a babysitting COOP. How about you?  

Craft Time!

Yes, it's December: the month of crafting. I can't tell you how happy it makes me when I get to fire up my glue gun. Bring it on, baby. 

Tonight the craft du jour was Dixie cup bells festooned with old buttons I've been carrying around in a sewing kit (yes, a sewing kit) since about the time Jimmy Carter was wearing his cartigan sweater and toting his WIN (Whip Inflation Now) button. 

Step 1: take an 8 oz dixie cup and cut off the first few inches from the lip (like where the flowery part is happening);

Step 2: poke a hole in the middle of the cup, and then send a piece of glittery pipe cleaner down the hole;

Step 3: from the pipe cleaner fashion a hook (to hang the "bell" on your tree) and a dangly-thingie that will resemble the bell ringer once you fasten a small colorful bead to the other end of the pipe cleaner;

Step 4: Using your coveted glue gun, cover your "bell" with many sequins, beads, and buttons  (often you can find a whole baggy full of each of these type adornments for less than a dollar at Value Village or Goodwill);

Step 5: Stand back and admire your gorgeous creation, fit to rival Martha Stewart (but why would you want to?). 

After you've had your fill of  bells, move onto . . . using the wooden  sticks you've salvaged from Dove bars:

It's easy! Just take 3 popsicle sticks, color with marker, then glue together to make an asterisk. Cover your asterisk ("star") with beads, sequins, and buttons. You  can hang your star by putting a thread or piece of yarn through a glued-on button, or by wrapping a pipe cleaner around one of the spokes. 

Voila, instant X-mas cheer!

Beware, though: glue guns can get really hot and messy. You have to watch your kids closely (no sneaking off to read a little from the new Best American Poetry and don't even think about writing a poem!), and mine your own self while you're at it (I kept burning myself when the glue oozed out from the button holes). But all in all, a great way to pass the hours while the kids are awake (and a painless and non-whiny screen-free eve--always a feat in our house). 

But when the kiddies are tucked into bed, what am I reading? AGNI 68, BAP 2008 (whoa, that's good stuff--you need to read Bob Hicok's poem "Oh my pa pa" right now), and lots and lots of student papers, many of which make me grateful that I am a teacher (and not a Cadillac salesperson).