Tangents

The subject line is from Fleur Adcock's "Kissing," which begins, "The young are walking on the riverbank," which immediately had me thinking about Paris in May 2009, where there were some lovely strolls along the Seine.

Even so, 2009 was a crucible of a year. When things get stupid intense these days, I sometimes think back to 2009, and then I say, "Ha! 2015, I am armed. I have survived gnarlier years than you!"

Among other things, 2009 was when I hauled two laptops with me around the Czech Republic and France and sucked down litres of soda while whaling through work that couldn't wait:





But I made time for some sightseeing anyway. These shirts in the window of a Strasbourg kiddie clothing shop window reminded me of the tentacle crowd:



And now, like then, there will be doting on doggies:



This entry was originally posted at http://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/391856.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

For reals:


Some other goings-on:

The 2015 Texas Poetry Calendar is now available. It includes my poem "Texas Instruments."

The Changeover published my essay "Accounting for Tennis Prize Money," and Sports Illustrated noticed.

Also now available: the 2014 Dwarf Stars anthology, which includes my poems "Even an Empty Life Can Hold Water," "Newest Amsterdam," and "Making Rice Dance."

Also, three rejections, the usual bug bites, half of my horses finishing third (which is useless when you're making win-place picks), and two hours in a waiting room with a TV on (but at least it was tuned to HGTV, which I find more tolerable than what's usually on). And a dress I bought just last month is not working out, but is already stained in multiple spots, so into the ragbag it went.

But at least I figured the not-working-out on second wearing, which was a quicker scramble out of the denial swamp (aka making-do morass) than my usual wrangle with buyer's regret. Also, I won a gold medal in Green Acres (fantasy tennis tournament) and drafted a new poem on my phone while sipping a free glass of prosecco at a neighborhood bar. And now it's back to the drawing board...

This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/86243.html.

The third time is confirmation, methinks: no matter what color is in the jar (Voodoo Blue, Atomic Turquoise) or how much bleach I've used, my hair will turn into a deep, vivid green. I'm not complaining: it happens to match my glasses and eyeliner. There are worse superpowers to have.

What I need, though, is to cultivate a gracious way of handling St. Patrick's Day jokes while steering the chitchat into other directions. (March 17 coincides with a sad anniversary in my personal history.) I wonder if there's an economist or Nobel laureate I could make the green in honor of...

Oho, here we go: Joseph Bienaimé Caventou. French. Pharmacist. Co-isolated chlorophyll and caffeine. Caventou, you're my man!

(When you can't berate them, make their eyes glaze over. Heh.)

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From Flower Confidential's section on Multi Color, a flower-painting factory:

"We can glitter anything," he said, moving cheerfully past the roses.

The chapter in general ("...a rose the color of blueberries. Actually, it's hard to compare this blue to any color you'd find in nature. It was more of a Las Vegas blue, a sequin-and-glitter blue. A blue you'd find in nail polish or gumballs, but not in a garden. Peter had hundreds of these blue roses...") reminded me of the the daisies that are doctored with shoe polish to pass for black-eyed Susans during the Preakness Stakes.

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The window for Rhysling nominations will remain open until Saturday, February 22. My eligible poems can be viewed via this Google Doc until then.

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I was thinking of baking a gingerbread Washington pie (from my Complete American Jewish Cookbook) in honor of the holiday, but we ate a a lot of dessert last night, and there are some savories higher on the list (specifically turnip cake and artichoke quiche). Also on this week's agenda: finetune 600 endnotes; relearn how to play poker; reacquaint myself with riding a bike (temperatures are supposed to reach 64 F this week); work on a birthday gift. Onward!

This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/76278.html.