Dad Says I Love You

Dad Says I Love You

Have you been changing the oil in your car?

Your older brother didn't get laid off.

Your younger brother found a new job.

How's your 401 (k)?

You sure are moving a lot these days.

Mom and I went out on the motorcycle today.

Got a boyfriend yet?

Going fishing this weekend. Wish you were here.

Grandma says hello.

You aren't a Vikings fan, are you?

The Brewer's lost again.

It's been rainy here.

When are you coming home?

We worry about you.

It must be pretty lonely out there.

Are you sure you're keeping that oil changed?

Busily working my way through my summer reading. Since the end of April (the end of the semester, completion of comps, ergo the beginning of reading for leisure), I've managed to complete the following:

1. Too Much Happiness: Alice Munro
2. The God of the Hive: Laurie R. King
3. Await Your Reply: Dan Chaon
4. Evidence: Mary Oliver
5. Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned: Wells Tower
6. The Solitude of Prime Numbers: Paolo Giordano
7. When You Are Engulfed in Flames: David Sedaris
8. Lolita: Vladimir Nabokov
9. The Glass Room: Simon Mawer

I always forget the sheer and unadulterated joy that comes from reading fiction. It is, perhaps, a little escapist of me to spend so much of my time with my head in a book, but it is a pleasure I am unwilling to forgo. I am currently wrapping up Paul Auster's Invisible, a rather peculiar little book, and am considering rereading The Great Gatsby for the sheer gorgeousness of the text. I'd love suggestions for other summer reading--I prefer fiction to non-fiction and LOVE short stories, but am willing to make an exception for a really finely wrought bit of memoir or book of essays.

Fate

The theme for this week on my other blog was "Fate." This is a version of the poem I wrote for it originally, but it wasn't coming together in time. I posted a different poem over at Glints and just finished this one today.

***

Anniversary

My daughter calls one night. I am smoking in the kitchen.

Her father puts in a new garden.

Before I can thank her for the card she sent

for our 30th anniversary,

she tells me, breathlessly, I think I'm falling in love.

She doesn't remember--she has called before saying the same thing.

I do not remind her. I listen. Ask the questions she wants me to ask.

I smoke. Make approving noises.

Say it's a nice time of year to be young and in love.

I roll my eyes at her father when he comes in to wash his hands.

He takes the phone, lights a cigarette of his own,

shakes his head at her exuberance.

He says he's happy for her, keeping the doubt from his voice.

We both know it will be enough to tell her, in a few weeks,

that love is never easy. And if it ever seems too simple,

one of you is lying.

TAL

I love This American Life.

By "I love This American Life" I mean I have a list of favorite episodes I can listen to over and over again. I make TAL references in daily conversation. I give to their pledge drive every time they ask for money. I've considered the "Radio By Mail" subscription to the program so that I can listen to the shows forever at my own leisure. I often tell friends which episodes they should listen to and why I think they'd love them. I have been known to tell whole stories from the show in an attempt to get people to try it. My dream is to one day be a contributor (although, I don't write particularly good non-fiction or short stories, so I'm not sure how that's going to work).

A friend asked recently for a list of my favorite episodes. Believe it or not, this is the short list. If you have a roadtrip ahead of you, it's worth downloading them (.99 a piece) and taking them along.

Testosterone

Act V

Giant Pool of Money

#1 Party School

Pray

Return to the Scene of the Crime

Allure of a Mean Friend

You Are So Beautiful...To Me

What is This Thing?

Valentine's Day 2008

Birthdays Anniversaries Milestones

Infidelity

Office Politics

A Very Special Sedaris Christmas

What I Learned from Television

Ruining it for the Rest of Us

Fear of Sleep

Tournament of Desserts Championship Round

Vote in the comments

Personal Chef for Hire

I am only partially joking.

I have a few strengths about which I am not bashful. I have an excellent sense of humor, I can be rather quick-witted and personal, I put a lot of time and effort into academic success.

But that of which I am most proud (as friends or relatively regular readers of this blog can tell you) is that I am a pretty damn good cook. I have afternoons off this summer and wish that I were in a wealthy enough area that someone would hire me on as a personal chef for the next few months.

The outline: I work 3-7 Monday-Saturday, with occasional Sunday hours should an event come up. For the price of groceries plus a nominal wage I would do all the prep work, cook dinner, and do the dishes, all in the comfort of your own home. Weekly menus will be provided every Sunday, with a 6 hour window for vetos and substitution requests. You have delicious leftovers to take to work all week and a stress-less summer full of good food and wine. I get to spend my afternoons cooking, making a little money, experimenting with new recipes, and get to add personal chef to my resume.

A girl can dream, right?

That said, I might actually try to get an apprenticeship with an artisan baker this summer.

We come from people who brought us up to believe life is a struggle, and if you should ever be really happy, be patient: this will pass.

-Garrison Keillor

I am unreasonably euphoric these days.

This of course means that something is probably about to go disastrously wrong.

In the words of the poet: my cup is full/let it spill.

***

Things for which I am Unendingly Grateful

Flowering trees. New recipes. Work. Curly hair. My London sweater. Michelle. My family. Lemon Berry Cake. Coffee dates. Brunch dates. Dates. Lauren and her risotto. The feel of a new book. My bed. Blue skies and puffy clouds. Study carrel 13. The New York Times. Pretentious Sundays. Puns in Church. The Eucharist. Summer. Daffodils, pasque flowers, lilies, and roses. Anticipation. The MIA. Friends in Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Portland, Seattle, NYC. Hugs. The Metropolitan Diaries. Tolkien. Lewis. Johnson. Bonhoeffer. Mozart. Mendelssohn's Octet for Strings. Letters. Mary Oliver. Aunt Margaret's Rings. The smell of cut grass. Apples. Theology. Poetry. More than I can name.