Wheeeee...

...that's me. Whizzing down the slide into the pool of 40. I thought I'd check in with my Project 40 list to assess how things are going. I am reminding myself that these are goals I am trying to meet sometime within my 40th year. Also, though I likely won't meet every single goal, I will meet so much more of them than if I hadn't made the goals at all.

I have marked the ones I've accomplished and also hope to make a few separate posts in the next few weeks about several of these goals that I've met, marked in blue.

*=ones I've done
#=ones I'm working on
X=ones I'm not going to do

X1. Run a 5K
X2. Run a 10K
*3. Run a Half marathon
4. Go to New Orleans
*5. Sew a Skirt
*6. Sew an Apron
7. Sew a Pillow
#8. Memorize 40 Poems
#9. Read Les Miserables
#10. Sew a Dress for my Girls

11. Go to Oxford, Mississippi
12. Visit Lazy Magnolia Brewery
13. Take a Long Weekend Alone (3 Nights!)
#14. Send Novel to Agents
#15. Send Short Story to Literary Review
*16. Listen to Live music at xx Theatre
17. Visit Flannery, Carson, or Eudora's Home
*18. Plant Calla Lilies
*19. Hang Wallpaper
*20. Eat raw, organic, or do a detox diet for one week

21. Learn Calligraphy
22. Read One Hundred Years of Solitude
*X23. Try 12 recipes from The Gift of Southern Cooking
24. Go to Helen Keller's home
*25. Plant a Lemon Tree
26. Read a Hemingway
*27. Read a Faulkner
*28. Attend a Literary Conference
29. Eat at Float-Away
?30. Go to an EmmyLou Harris concert (as of now, the only dates she has within five hours of us are during a weekend we already have plans during.)

X31. Eat Oysters in Appalachicola (may need to be amended)
*32. Learn 12+ Birds that live in our area
#33. Learn 12+ Trees that grow in our area
34. Teach a writing workshop
35. Go through Pioneer Woman's photography archives
36. Start Bee Hives
37. Watch last season of Six Feet Under
X38. Be able to do 40 Push-Ups
39. Make Mole' Sauce
40. Make a Video of my children's first 4 years

Poem #18

Won't you celebrate with me
By Gwendolyn Brooks

won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.

Poem #17

Classic Ballroom Dances
by Charles Simic

Grandmothers who wring the necks
of chickens; Old nuns
With names like Theresa, Maryanne,
Who pull schoolboys by the ear;

The intricate steps of pickpockets
Working the crowd of the curious
At the scene of an accident, The slow shuffle
Of the evangelist with a sandwich board;

The hesitation of the early morning customer
Peeking through the window-grille
of a pawn shop; the weave of a little kid
Who is walking to school with his eyes closed;

And the ancient lovers, cheek to cheek,
On the dance floor of the Union Hall,
where they also hold charity raffles
on rainy Monday nights of an eternal November.

Poem #16

Resume' by Dorothy Parker

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

I really like this poem. I don't know anything about Dorothy Parker except I quote that I've read that is attributed to her: "I don't know anything about being a millionaire, but I bet I'd be darling at it." Isn't that a great quote? Don't we all feel that way? Given the chance to be filthy rich, wouldn't we be gracious and generous, darling yet down to earth?

One thing I like about the poem is the rhythm. It goes along at a happy little clip, contrary to the subject of the poem. And while subject is heavy, the end is hopeful.

My favorite thing about the poem though, is the title. At first, I skimmed over the title not letting it affect my reading of the poem. Without the title, the poem seems almost hopeful in its delivery. Don't go to all those dark places, just make the best of it. But, with the title, the reader is forced to reckon that the speaker of the poem has tried each of those things. Much the way an employee puts projects and undertakings on their resume', the speaker of the poem does the same in this poem.

This poem reminds me of a Langston Hughes poem I used when I taught middle school English. When we talked about the importance of titles, I'd use one of his poems. I'd write it on the board and cover the title up by taping up a sheet of paper. I'd ask the students to write about the poem for five minutes and we'd discuss. Then, I'd uncover the title and ask them to write again about the poem. Then, we'd discuss how our readings were changed by the title.

The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.

Read it and think about what the poem evokes for you. Then click on comments and read the title, seeing how that changes your reading of the poem.

Class dismissed.

Project 40,

Downhill slide. That is what I am on--with the Big Four-Oh at the bottom. I thought it might be a good idea for me to check in with my Project 40 list. I've had to amend the list a bit. My knees are giving me trouble since I finished the half marathon in April. So, I am done with running--at least for a while. I don't plan to get all these finished by June, but during the year I am celebrating 40.

#=ones I'm working on
*=ones I've done
X=ones I'm not going to do

X1. Run a 5K
X2. Run a 10K
*3. Run a Half marathon
4. Go to New Orleans
*5. Sew a Skirt
6. Sew an Apron
7. Sew a Pillow
#8. Memorize 40 Poems
#9. Read Les Miserables
#10. Sew a Dress for my Girls

11. Go to Oxford, Mississippi
12. Visit Lazy Magnolia Brewery
13. Take a Long Weekend Alone (3 Nights!)
#14. Send Novel to Agents
#15. Send Short Story to Literary Review
*16. Listen to Live music at xx Theatre
17. Visit Flannery, Carson, or Eudora's Home
18. Plant Calla Lilies
*19. Hang Wallpaper
20. Eat raw, organic, or do a detox diet for one week

21. Learn Calligraphy
22. Read One Hundred Years of Solitude
#23. Try 12 recipes from The Gift of Southern Cooking
24. Go to Helen Keller's home
#25. Plant a Lemon Trees
26. Read a Hemmingway
27. Read a Faulkner
#28. Attend a Literary Conference
29. Eat at Float-Away
?30. Go to an EmmyLou Harris concert (as of now, the only dates she has within five hours of us are during a weekend we already have plans during.)

X31. Eat Oysters in Appalachicola (may need to be amended)
#32. Learn 12+ Birds that live in our area
#33. Learn 12+ Trees that grow in our area
34. Teach a writing workshop
35. Go through Pioneer Woman's photography archives
36. Start Bee Hives
37. Watch last season of Six Feet Under
#38. Be able to do 40 Push-Ups
39. Make Mole' Sauce
40. Make a Video of my children's first 4 years

Poem #15

Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sag
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Poem #14

Why I Wake Early
by Mary Oliver

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety--

Best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light--
good morning, good morning, good morning

Watch now how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

Scalloped Tomatoes

For my Project40 undertaking, I am attempting a dozen recipes from Scott Peacock's The Gift of Southern Cooking. Here is one that I tried that I love. I adapted it in several ways. I have added roasted red peppers, though I've also made it without the red peppers. It is great either way. Also, I use sourdough instead of white loaf bread, and I skip the sugar. The other major change I make is that I don't use any butter. I toast the bread without any fat and then just drizzle some olive oil in the baking dish before I pour everything in.

6 large vine-ripe tomatoes, peeled and seeded, and cut into 1 1/1 inch pieces
1 small onion finely chopped, about 1/3 cup
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 tsp sugar
4 slices of white loaf bread, crusts removed, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
7 TBSP unsalted butter, melted

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Put tomato pieces, onion, salt, pepper and sugar in a bowl. Toss well.
Drizzle 4 TBSP butter on bread cubes. Toast them until they are golden, 8-12 minutes.
Add bread to tomatoes and toss well. Taste for seasoning and adjust.
Turn everything into a buttered 9-13" baking dish. Drizzle the remaining melted butter over. Cover with foil and bake 35 minutes. Uncover and bake 10 more minutes.

The cookbook also has a similar recipe that calls for using green tomatoes. It is just as good.

40-40 Vision

Have I mentioned I am about to turn 40? Yes, I'm knocking on the door. Ten months from today. 304 days from today I will be officially old as all get out.

Have you also noticed I like lists and goals and challenges?

Below is a list I created back in January. I wrote it all down one morning under the heading 40-40 vision. These are all things I'd like to get done either by the time I turn 40 years old or sometime that year.

1. Run a 5K
2. Run a 10K
*3. Run a Half marathon
4. Go to New Orleans
5. Sew a Skirt
6. Sew an Apron
7. Sew a Pillow
#8. Memorize 40 Poems
#9. Read Les Miserables
10. Sew a Dress for my Girls

11. Go to Oxford, Mississippi
12. Visit Lazy Magnolia Brewery
13. Take a Long Weekend Alone (3 Nights!)
14. Send Novel to Agents
15. Send Short Story to Literary Review
16. Listen to Live music at xx Theatre
17. Visit Flannery, Carson, or Eudora's Home
18. Plant Calla Lilies
*19. Hang Wallpaper
20. Eat raw, organic, or do a detox diet for one week

21. Learn Calligraphy
22. Read One Hundred Years of Solitude
23. Try 12 recipes from The Gift of Southern Cooking
24. Go to Helen Keller's home
#25. Plant a Lemon Trees
26. Read a Hemmingway
27. Read a Faulkner
28. Attend a Literary Conference
29. Eat at Float-Away
30. Go to an EmmyLou Harris concert

31. Eat Oysters in Appalachicola (may need to be amended)
#32. Learn 12+ Birds that live in our area
#33. Learn 12+ Trees that grow in our area
34. Teach a writing workshop
35. Go through Pioneer Woman's photography archives
36. Start Bee Hives
37. Watch last season of Six Feet Under
38. Be able to do 40 Push-Ups
39. Make Mole' Sauce
40. Make a Video of my children's first 4 years

#=ones I'm working on
*=ones I've done

Poem #13

This is one of the poems I taught in my middle school English classes. I loved it because it is a simple, straight-forward poem but you can surmise a lot about what else the poem might, or could, mean. I also love the rhyme scheme: a chain rhyme of aaba bbcb ccdc dddd. Then there is the rhythm of the poem: every line has four feet (eight syllables). Iambic tetrameter, if you care to know. An iamb is an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, in case you forgot (I know you didn't).

I recently read that Robert Frost tried to commit suicide when he was young and that he has been awarded more Pulitzer Prizes than any other writer (four). That is something we all should remember when things are not going our way. I hope you enjoy poem number thirteen.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
to watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Poem #12

When I heard this poem on The Writer's Almanac about a month ago, I immediately knew I had to memorize it. It is a fantastic poem, from beginning to end. Plus, it has "holy diapers" in it. Who ever knew there could be a wonderful poem with that phrase?

Dharma by Billy Collins

The way the dog trots out the front door every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance--
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

Hope, poem #11, updated

Update: So, math was never my strong suit. Maybe I should figure it out numerically rather than in words. 40-12=28. 28/11=2.5454545. That's two and a half poems per month. I was figuring I had another poem in the back of my head and rounded to a dozen. I can surely see how I gave the accurate impression that math ain't my thang.

Hhmmm, I need to get kicking on my 40 by 40 quest. I've got 11 months left to memorize 38 poems; that is close to three and a half poems a month.

Here is the latest poem I've chosen. I hope you enjoy it.

Hope
by Lisel Mueller

It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green angels
that sail from the tops of maples.

It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm segment
surviving cruelty,
it is the motion that runs
from the eyes to the tail of a dog,
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just been born.

It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one another,
it is in this poem, trying to speak.

13.1 X 5

The last weekend of this month we headed north to Nashville for the Country Music Marathon. NanaLin's son Chris ran the full and I ran the half. We loved being with NanaLin and GrandPa and NanaLin's family for the weekend. H was a trooper dragging LEM around the course to try to get a glimpse of their Mama. I felt good during my race and finished in the time I wanted to (12 1/2 minute miles=2:42:12). The thing I felt best about while running was that I had not gotten crazy and signed up for the full marathon!
The children did great on the ride. It is AmaZing how much easier travel is becoming. It is almost enjoyable now. Saturday night we went to the OpryLand Mall where the children got to pet sting rays and eat at the Rain Forest Cafe. The next weekend this area of Nashville was completely flooded and is still recovering.
One side note about Lucia. Her favorite color is orange. It always has been. Mazie and I ran in Target to grab something when we were leaving Nashville Sunday. Mazie saw a pretty orange bathing suit for Lu. So we bought it and gave it to Lu when we got to the car. She held it for the next hour or so of our drive and kept saying things like, "Thank you for my orange bathing suit" and "I love my new orange bathing suit."
We are thankful for safe travels and a safe race.

Happy 2010

Our family wishes you a year filled with health, happiness, adventure and serenity. For your enjoyment I am sharing the tenth poem in my project40 undertaking. I suppose this is not technically a poem, but I think it is one of the most beautiful things I've read, so for me, that constitutes poetry.

Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi.

Lord make me an instrument of thy peace
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much as seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in the giving that we receive;
it is in the pardoning that we are pardoned;
it is in the dying that we are born into eternal life.

Poem #9

Preacher Don't Send Me
by Maya Angelou

Preacher, Don't send me
when I die
to some big ghetto
in the sky
where rats eat cats
of the leopard type
and Sunday brunch
is grits and tripe.

I've known those rats
I've seen them kill
and the grits I've had
could make a hill
or maybe a mountain
so what I need
from you on Sunday
is a different creed.

Preacher don't
promise me
streets of gold
and milk for free.
I stopped all milk
at four years old
and once I'm dead
I won't need gold.

I'd call a place
pure paradise
where families are loyal
and strangers are nice,
where the music is jazz
and the season is fall.
Promise me that
or nothing at all.

Poem #8

My pattern is to read one substantial biography a year. When I taught school, I usually read it over the summer. A few years back I read Savage Beauty by Nancy Milford, her biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay. I loved it and have loved Millay's poetry ever since.

Travel
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And I hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing,
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take
No matter where it's going.

Poem #7

One day a few years back when I was staying with my grandmother, we were talking about poems and she pulled out a newspaper clipping of this poem, telling me it was one of her favorites. I went to bed that night and memorized it.

The Coin
by Sara Teasdale

Into my heart's treasury
I slipped a coin
That time cannot take
Nor a thief purloin,--
Oh better than the minting
of a gold-crowned king
Is the safe-kept memory
of a lovely thing.

Poems #5&6: Dickinson

I don't love (maybe I should just admit: I don't get) many of Dickinson's poems, but when I do love (get) them, I fall hard.

both by Emily Dickinson

To Fight Aloud

To fight aloud, is very brave--
but gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
the Calvary of Woe--

Who win, and nations do not see--
Who fall--and none observe--
Whose dying eyes, no Country
Regards with patriot love--

We trust, in plumed procession
For such, the angels go--
Rank after Rank, with even feet--
and Uniforms of Snow.

*****************************
Tell All the Truth

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant--
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As lightning to the Children eased
with explanation kind
the Truth must dazzle gradually
or every man be blind--

Fourth Poem

I love this poem. Isn't this the way Love should be? Love with complete abandon.

Song
by W. H. Auden

The chimney sweepers
Wash their faces and forget to wash the neck;
The lighthouse keepers
Let the lamps go out and leave the ships to wreck;
The prosperous baker
Leaves the rolls in hundreds in the oven to burn;
The undertaker
Pins a small note on the coffin saying "Wait till I return,
I've got a date with Love."

And deep-sea divers
Cut their boots off and come bubbling to the top,
And engine-drivers
Bring expresses in the tunnel to a stop;
The village rector
Dashes down the side-aisle half-way through a psalm;
The sanitary inspector
Runs off with the cover of the cesspool on his arm--
To keep his date with Love.

The Altar

I wrote about Garrison Keillor earlier this month. I have found new poets to love in his collections of poetry. Two of the ones I am most glad to find are Charles Simic and Lisel Mueller. I think one of the reasons I like this poem so much is that I have little altars everywhere: on my bedside table, in the console of my car, on the window sill at the kitchen sink. I mostly display things that remind me of happy occurrences, but also things that bring to mind a certain attitude, like gratefulness and generosity and loveliness.

Here is poem number three in my installment of Project40.

The Altar by Charles Simic

The plastic statue of the Virgin
On top of a bedroom dresser
With a blackened mirror
From a bad-dream grooming salon.

Two pebbles from the grave of a rock star,
A small, grinning wind-up monkey,
A bronze Egyptian coin
And a red movie-ticket stub.

A splotch of sunlight on the framed
Communion photograph of a boy
With the eyes of someone
Who will drown in a lake real soon.

An Altar dignifying the god of chance.
What is beautiful, it cautions,
Is found accidentally and not sought after.
What is beautiful is easily lost.