riddick movies are ridic but i can't turn them off
things i forgot about last night: the hostess at the restaurant had a star of david tattoo, so of course my sister had to comment (favorably, natch) and we got to have a super short conversation with the hostess because when you find fellow hebs out in the wild, you have to talk to them. also my sister must have told someone it was our parents' anniversary, because when it was time for dessert (which we probably all would have passed on, because we ate so much dinner) (it didn't even seem like a lot) the waitress brought out a galaktobourekakia, which was basically a cube of custard with phyllo and honey on top. it was sooo goood. and it had two candles in it! a blue one and a pink one, which is both gender essentialist and super cute. seriously, it was adorable. and delicious.
and i got some comments on my hair! usually no one notices but the head of marketing at work told me it looked good, and my sister said something! ok, so that something was "did you get a haircut?" but at least she noticed.
a while ago i kickstarted a project of knitted cacti, which were the various rewards tiers. i got mine yesterday, and it is as promised a tiny knitted barrel cactus with a tiny knitted flower nestled in a tiny terracotta pot. SO CUTE. SO, SO CUTE. you can see a bunch of knitted cacti on the knitter's instagram. (she's actually an archaeologist, and she started knitting cacti for her lab because there are no windows and real plants would die.)
i did not make it to the pre-bar-mitzvah dinner that was tonight, because i didn't get out of work until almost 6:30, and then i had to go to the post office. everything happened at the end of the day. hmph.
and, embarrassingly, i got a text from my landlady wondering if everything was ok, because apparently i forgot to drop off my rent. >.< mediocre, self. all week i kept thinking i was forgetting aomething, and i guess that was it. oy.
and on that cheerful note....
The wind then, through seams of bluestem,
or switchgrass swayed by a coyote’s passing.
Where the fabric gapes, Barthes said,
lies the sensual. A prairie cut
by winding seeps, or winds or shearing wings.
Mare’s tails, mackerels, cirrus,
distance dispersed as light. Under a buzzard’s bank
and spiral the prairie folds and unfolds.
Here between the stands of bluestem, I am interruption.
I rake my fingers over culms and panicles.
Here seeds burr into my sleeves, spur each hem.
In a prairie, I am chance. I am rupture. The wind-
thief, ruffian, quick-fingered sky, snatches a kink
of my hair. The broken nap falls, wound round
like a prairie snake, a coil of barbed wire, a snare
for the unwary. In the fall, volunteer naturalists
will wrench invading roots and scour grassy densities
with fire. Wick, knot, gnarl, my kindled hair
will flare, burn, soften into ash, ash that will settle,
sieve through soil, compost for roots to suck
and worms to cast out, out into the loess that raises
redtop, turkeyfoot, sideoats grama,
and all the darkened progenies of grass
that reach and strive and shape dissent from light.
--"Burn", Janice N. Harrington
and i got some comments on my hair! usually no one notices but the head of marketing at work told me it looked good, and my sister said something! ok, so that something was "did you get a haircut?" but at least she noticed.
a while ago i kickstarted a project of knitted cacti, which were the various rewards tiers. i got mine yesterday, and it is as promised a tiny knitted barrel cactus with a tiny knitted flower nestled in a tiny terracotta pot. SO CUTE. SO, SO CUTE. you can see a bunch of knitted cacti on the knitter's instagram. (she's actually an archaeologist, and she started knitting cacti for her lab because there are no windows and real plants would die.)
i did not make it to the pre-bar-mitzvah dinner that was tonight, because i didn't get out of work until almost 6:30, and then i had to go to the post office. everything happened at the end of the day. hmph.
and, embarrassingly, i got a text from my landlady wondering if everything was ok, because apparently i forgot to drop off my rent. >.< mediocre, self. all week i kept thinking i was forgetting aomething, and i guess that was it. oy.
and on that cheerful note....
The wind then, through seams of bluestem,
or switchgrass swayed by a coyote’s passing.
Where the fabric gapes, Barthes said,
lies the sensual. A prairie cut
by winding seeps, or winds or shearing wings.
Mare’s tails, mackerels, cirrus,
distance dispersed as light. Under a buzzard’s bank
and spiral the prairie folds and unfolds.
Here between the stands of bluestem, I am interruption.
I rake my fingers over culms and panicles.
Here seeds burr into my sleeves, spur each hem.
In a prairie, I am chance. I am rupture. The wind-
thief, ruffian, quick-fingered sky, snatches a kink
of my hair. The broken nap falls, wound round
like a prairie snake, a coil of barbed wire, a snare
for the unwary. In the fall, volunteer naturalists
will wrench invading roots and scour grassy densities
with fire. Wick, knot, gnarl, my kindled hair
will flare, burn, soften into ash, ash that will settle,
sieve through soil, compost for roots to suck
and worms to cast out, out into the loess that raises
redtop, turkeyfoot, sideoats grama,
and all the darkened progenies of grass
that reach and strive and shape dissent from light.
--"Burn", Janice N. Harrington