Blog Entry CommentsComments: 4 (Last: Slaz · 2/9/14 2:03 AM)

the beaming sun
out there
a light bulb
the sun
is that bright
Ashville is on a mountain
of Crystal
that inspired me
I had to get out of there
depending on who
uses it
you make can
be broken
I can hear the faint
in the water
falling on tin
or stainless
steel. Its ugly
little message
doesn’t annoy me
so much as make
me wonder
if it’s making
lines in the air
my coffee is so
black and that’s complete
and so I must
break it. I had
so much to say
today and yet I stretched
out. I thought “62.”
That’s 8. And Cathy
said today was
a full moon. It means
everything: how I turned
my hip on the slide
and almost hurt
myself. The tray that
sat in my mother’s
house forever
is on my counter
now. Useless and like
forever. Greedy about
time these fifteen
minutes. It begins nailing
the sink like
a rattle has a finale.
Rather than allowing
me to search Doug
gently cut me off.
And this is enough.
The check could’ve been
larger. I wanted you
to be charmed by
how she lived with the plants
and the clocks
in the house. My insane
devotion to my
mother. I will not call
her. To thank her
on this day, an 8. No
I am enjoying
my rattling coffee
the sound of the knife
its drips really slicing
time which is
sound as whole
as I know. I understand
my perfect love
for you and this
is apart from that too.
Coffee like a black
pen on my birthday
a sound that is making lines
a hand that will fill
them. I deposit
my check. I say
thank you mother.

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 0

This song is from the perspective of a man in prison, watching a bird and longing for his wife. I think the longing is captured so beautifully. Even before I knew what the lyrics meant it would fill me with such strange mix of feelings.



So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain
Let him/her go to his/her not-too-long-ago seen master
Early morning I look up at the sky
Fine pocket knife, the rough-bread is being cut
Little calf's trouble has also been cut here
Early morning I look at the sky
My little angel

So s/he is listening to the whooshing of the rain
Let him/her go to his/her not-too-long-ago seen master
Early morning I look at the sky
There is a bird, who will carry away
My little angel

I am buried in it alive, alive
I am turning yellow, heavily
Mommy (meaning 'wife'), I will write when I am free

My little angel

So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain
There is a bird, who will carry away

My little angel

Early morning I look upward at the sky
So he/she is listening to the whooshing of the rain
There is a bird, who will carry away
Let him/her go to his/her not-too-long-ago seen master

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 0


Here are some more maple syrup recipes. It reminds me of my friend with his Sugar Shack and how he'd be boiling a lot of syrup this time of year:


Maple-Garlic Marinated Pork Tenderloin


Great on chicken, pork or fish.


2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon sesame oil

3 cloves garlic, minced

Fresh ground black pepper to taste

1 cup maple syrup

1 1/2 pounds pork tenderloin

Combine mustard, sesame oil, garlic, pepper and maple syrup. Place pork in a shallow dish and coat thoroughly with marinade. Cover, then chill in the refrigerator at least eight hours or overnight.

Preheat grill for medium-low heat.


Remove pork from marinade and set aside. Transfer remaining marinade to a small saucepan and cook on the stove over medium-low heat for 5 minutes.

Brush grate with oil and place meat on grate. Grill pork, basting with reserved marinade for approximately 15 to 25 minutes or until interior is no longer pink. Avoid using high temperatures as marinade will burn.


Maple Barbeque Basting Sauce

1/2 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup sherry
1/4 cup ginger
3/4 tsp dry mustard
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp salt


Marinate overnight with your favorite meat dish or baste as a sauce on the grille.



Maple Glazed Carrots

8 medium carrots
3 tbsp butter
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/2 tsp brown sugar


Slice carrots. Cook until tender. Melt butter. Add maple syrup and brown sugar. Simmer carrots in maple syrup mixture until glazed. (Try this on pork chops!)



Spicy Maple Syrup Salad Dressing

2 tbsp maple syrup
1 tbsp horseradish sauce
4 tbsp red wine vinegar
5 tbsp olive oil
1 clove garlic, finely crushed


Mix all ingredients together thoroughly. Chill and serve with salad or raw vegetables.



Maple Syrup Jam 


Ingredients (serves 10):

Prep Time: 10 mins

Total Time: 30 mins

  1. In a saucepan, bring the berries and syrup to a boil. Reduce heat.
  2. Simmer over medium heat until the mixture thickens slightly, about 15 minutes.
  3. Let cool.

Read more:

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 3 (Last: Lori · 2/4/14 7:02 AM)

For (and from) Jasmine, an old friend from Vox who died yesterday after many years of dealing with cancer (and all it brings) as best she could:


I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.


Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, — but the best is lost.


The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.


Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.


Collected Poems (HarperCollins, 1958)

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 3 (Last: LittleOddMe · 2/4/14 7:12 AM)

Puppies are never wrong.



Besides, it's the Chinese Year of the Horse. Just in time.

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 13 (Last: Lori · 2/3/14 12:40 PM)


Broncos cupcakes!!!
horse cupcakes final

These are actually not that hard to make. Bake up some cupcakes - and add food coloring if you want to color them). Other things you will need:


  • Circus peanuts candy in your preferred color - I'm picking the standard orange ones for the Broncos!
  • Frosting in your preferred colors - for me: blue, orange, and a little tube of brown or black for the eyes and nostrils.
  • vanilla wafer cookies (or any other color that suits your project).
  • Some sort of frosting applicator - I use a bag of frosting and a fine cake decorating tip.

Make your cupcakes early - they need to be cool to work well for this project. I am cooking mine the night before. 


First, glue two wafers together on top of each other using a little frosting. Cut them as shown below to make the neck of the horse. Don't throw away your spare wafer bits, you will need some of them later!


horse cupcake necks


 Next we are going to stick the Circus Peanut heads onto the necks. Stick the thin end of the neck onto one end of the bottom of a circus peanut. Use frosting as glue (I wish I'd colored my frosting for this). Let the frosting set well on the heads and necks for a while and move on to your cupcakes.


horse cupcake necks and heads

Cut a hole in each of your cupcakes like so:

horse cupcakes bases

To make it more easy to frost the cupcakes, I cut the hole and then frosted the cupcakes right over the hole. This will help to glue in the wafer-horse-necks.


Insert the thick (non-head) end of the wafer through the frosting into the hole, with the head facing down a little to form a nice sloping neck.


Now it's time to decorate the head.


horse cupcakes final

Use a very sharp knife to cut tiny triangles for ears. Stick them on the top of the head above where it joins the neck.


Take your "mane" frosting (blue in this case - Go Broncos!). I put it in a bag with a decorating tip for this. Pipe it on between the ears for the fringe of the mane, and then all the way down the back of the neck for the mane.


Two dots of black or brown for eyes, and two more for nostrils, and you're all done!



Photos (4)
horse cupcake necks and heads
Blog Entry CommentsComments: 3 (Last: Lori · 1/31/14 8:00 AM)

Yesterday a kid in a local school went into the cafeteria, drank some bleach and set himself on fire. Amazingly he's still alive, and in care for severe burns over 80% of his body.


To be honest, I kind of hope for his sake that he doesn't live. Because if he was struggling so much before, now will be even harder. But that's just me, the way I think. I hope whichever way he wants to go - life or death - he gets to go that way now.


Why I'm thinking about it is the article online which a friend of mine drew attention to today. Such horrible cruelty in the comments, but among them, this marvelous comment which I want to preserve to be able to look at later:


"If you are feeling like this young man was, please realize for every loud mouthed, dark hearted jerk who bullies or taunts you there are thousands who care what you are going through. Sadly, we are usually quietly going along with our lives and sometimes we are blind to your pain. It's not because we don't care. We're busy working and scraping by and keeping our own pins up in the air. But, oh, how that fails you! And then one of you does the unthinkable and we're transfixed again by the fact that the world is still cruel and we haven't made you the priority you DESERVE to be and the ones of us who know how to feel pain share yours. The ones who'll be that loud, constant voice in your head are the ones who revel in making your pain visible, while they mask theirs behind their evil, snarky, twisted words and deeds. But please be srrong! Remember there are legions of us quietly (oh, too quietly) rooting for you. When I was young I was an incest survivor. The kids at school knew I was different and I was bullied. I didn't know what to be. I only knew what NOT to be. And now, in my 50s, I choose to be kind. I choose to ignore hate. I choose to believe in you. If you are reading this thread and feel cut by the remarks of the bullies please remember the quiet legions who DO care about you."


Thank you for saying that, Paisley Print. Your words meant the world to me today.

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 1 (Last: Gyminy · 1/30/14 10:47 AM)

"To hell with everyone everywhere who ever mistook suffering for honor, and who ever taught that to their kids.  There’s nothing honorable about suffering.  Nothing." Eric Waggoner





Blog Entry CommentsComments: 2 (Last: Lori · 1/27/14 10:42 AM)


I saw this on Pintrest this morning. It reminded me that I got my old bike in the fall. Now, what color will I paint it this spring?


I was thinking of leaving it all rustic and rusty, but I think this will look more deliberate. I'm constructing a box for a front and back "carry basket" design to hold plants, and the seat will hold a watering can that flows into a little pond below.

Photos (1)
Blog Entry CommentsComments: 0


The difference between being loved and being fucked is I can’t remember how the first feels. I have a body like an open door. I have a body like an open hand. It is too easy to hold me.

Find me a boy with a heart more hopeful than spun sugar on a hot day, I will teach him to render me meaningless. The whole time, every moment, wishing he’d crack me open, rib by rib, to see how I work. How I bleed.


Here is the bitter truth: that mouthful of thorns you called our last kiss still lingers after so many others.


Darlings, sometimes love will come to you like a fire to a forest. When it does, be braver than I was. Just leave. Take only what you can carry. No tears, no second thoughts. You have hands like tinder boxes, the smallest spark will kill you.

Get in the car. Take water to the maps. Avoid gas stations. Don’t look at the flames dancing in the rear view mirror. Go to new cities, climb on the rooftops and slow dance with your coldest memories. Wallpaper your new home with every dusty, desperate love letter you swore you’d never send.

Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips. Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke.
Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when there is soot in your lungs.


It’s 11 am and I’m sitting in a restaurant 3 beers in. Believe me, even I’m surprised
I’m still alive sometimes. I have been drinking about you for 2 days. Lately you remind me of a wild thing chewing through its foot. But you are already free and I don’t know what to do except trace the rough line of your jaw and try not to place blame. Here is the truth: It is hard to be in love with someone who is in love someone else. I don’t know how to turn that into poetry.


I am 15 and he is my first boyfriend. He is 18 and 6’4” and his hands are the size of thick textbooks. He says he has a lot to teach me. He is drowning in his sadness. Drowning people often believe if they grab hold of someone else they can be saved, but it just makes you both sink faster.

I am 17 and she is my first girlfriend. The only thing we do more often than fight is fuck each other. I tell her about the boy’s hands and she tries to stretch her fingers wide to mimic them. I say stop it. I say I love you as you are.

I am 19 and in the first of many dirty rooms with books strewn everywhere and a mattress in one corner. These rooms always belong to boys with unshaved faces and tender hearts. Boys like this are a dime a dozen, but I don’t know that yet because tonight I’m with the first one. He hands me a beer. He says he thinks I’m smart. He orders me to take off my clothes.

I am 20 and in love with someone who tells a lot of lies. The punishment for telling lies is that I become cruel. The punishment for being cruel is being abandoned.

I am 20 and it is not sex because I don’t say yes. I say stop but that doesn’t make it stop. I am 20 and crying because my friend Aaron wants to kiss me, and I know if he does I’ll still taste like betrayal.


The Ways I Didn’t Leave You:

Even though I knew how it felt to love someone with a heart like the sharp edge of a knife, I pulled out the whetstone.

I asked you to bend, to be small enough to close my fist around. I wanted to be certain you could never get away.

I knew there was someone else, but I started looking through your pockets for proof I was wrong.

I threw a wine glass across the kitchen like a fastball, we both stood and stared at the shattered glass, proof that good people do terrible things.

I said “I love you” when I meant something much more specific, I should have said “Please don’t leave me, I’m afraid to sleep alone.”


I thought leaving you would be easy, just walking out the door. But I keep getting pinned against it with my legs around your waist. It’s like my lips want you like my lungs want air, it’s just what they were born to do.

So I am sitting at work thinking of you cutting vegetables in my kitchen. Your hair in my shower drain. Your fingers on my spine in the morning while we listen to Muddy Waters. I don’t know why I’ve got so much hope pinned to someone who will never call me home, but the way you talk about poems like Marxists talk of revolution it makes me want to keep trying. In the mornings, in my shower drain, in the music, I am looking for reasons to love you. I am looking for proof that you love me.


Here is what I know: You drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other. Once you kissed my neck in front of your friends and it made me very shy. Once you kissed my stomach and I started crying. I see the tender way you touch things and want to kiss your nose but I keep my mouth to myself. Your collarbones are craters big enough to fit my fist into. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months. I was not good to the last person I loved so I punished my heart (I let it break and bleed out then roughly sewed it back together.) It is hard to write poems when I only know how to fuck you. I am always trying. I am thinking of Somedays. I am saying goodbye. You asked why I never write anything honest so I am writing you this.


You told me mornings were the best time to break your own heart. So here I am
smoking your brand of cigarettes for the scent. I wonder if you still sing Beatles songs while you make coffee. You said your mother sang them to you when you couldn’t sleep, 19 years before we met and 20 before you moved your clothes out of our closet while I was at work. By the way I hate you for leaving all the photographs on the fridge, taking them down felt like peeling off new scabs, felt like slapping a sunburn. I spent so many nights carving your body into pillows I can promise you nothing feels like sleeping with your arm slung over me and your breath in my ear. Still, it’s comforting to know we sleep under the same moon, even if she’s so much older when she gets to me. I like to imagine she’s seen you sleeping, and wants me to know you’re doing well.


I know you and I are not about poems or other sentimental bullshit, but I have to tell you even the way you drink your coffee just knocks me the fuck out.

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 0
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Blog Entry CommentsComments: 0

The chicken police:


I HAVE to make this next time it snows. I can't wait!!!! C'mon, why's it so warm and sunny here!!!!????



 I think Paul will particularly like this:





And these next two videos have to be combined together. Listen to them in order. It's hysterical, I promise.


A wonderful wedding photo:



A report from  1981 about the internet:


These amazing pictures a mother took of her son:





Paul bought me the guidebook to the Pacific Crest Trail last year. This video filled me with longing:


The MOST adorable video of a man singing puppies to sleep:


Cat Heavens. 'Nuff said:

The German company specializes in making very attractive kitty towers and walkways.


“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”

― C.G. Jung


Food decoration ideas (breakfast edition):








Photos (7)
Blog Entry CommentsComments: 4 (Last: Lori · 1/20/14 1:01 PM)

She: I'm going to have a sake with lunch. 


He: I'm going to have a shoe-ee. That way with a sock-ee and a shoe-ee we can protect at least one foot-ee.


She: (groan)


He: Does this mean I'm the Designated Driver?


She: No.


He: So you want to drink and drive.


She: It's only one sake. I can still drive.


He: So you want to drive.


She: No, you can drive. You always drive. I like you driving.


He: So what you are saying is that I am the un-designated person who is arbitrarily operating the machinery that just happens to be taking you home on this day when you are consuming alcohol?


She. Yes.


He: Ah.



Blog Entry CommentsComments: 4 (Last: Lori · 1/17/14 1:37 PM)

It’s the color of her eyes; the color of the sea. In both you could drown, or find God himself. It’s the space between cities. Road signs & right turns, and the quiet determination to unravel in her arms. The sheets on her bed at 3am, where she whispers “I love you” and you’ve never been so sure of anything. The breath you exhale after you kiss her; it’s the color of the blood pumping through your heart. The heart that she keeps beating. The heart that has her name written all over it. It’s the heaviness in anticipation. The insatiable desire for a minute, just one minute. It is not the opposite of passion, like once suggested. It is passion. It is the sound of whispers. Her breath on your neck, and shivers down your spine. The color that fills in the weeks until you see her again. But most importantly, it will always be the color of her eyes. And it is no coincidence they are the color of the sea.

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 2 (Last: Kasey Corbit · 1/17/14 9:21 AM)
Apparently using lentils instead of chickpeas gives a more creamy dip with less fat and more protein and fiber. Found here.


  • 1 cup dry brown lentils
  • 2 cups boiling water
  • 1/2 cup plain, low-fat Greek yogurt
  • 2 lemons, zested and juiced
  • 1/2 cup grated Parmesan
  • 2 tablespoons prepared tahini
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 1/4 cup warm water
  • 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon mild or hot chili powder
  • 2 carrots, peeled, cut into matchsticks
  • 4 stalks celery, cut into matchsticks
  • 1 red bell pepper, seeded, cut into matchsticks


  1. Rinse the lentils under cold running water.  In a small saucepan, bring 2 cups of water to a boil.  Add the lentils and reduce the heat to low. Simmer 10 to 15 minutes, until the lentils are soft and the liquid has been absorbed.

    Transfer the lentils to a food processor.  Add the yogurt, lemon zest and juice, Parmesan, tahini, and garlic cloves.  Process until a thick, chunky mixture forms.  Add the water and process 10 to 15 seconds, until he mixture lightens in color and is smooth.  Drizzle with the olive oil and sprinkle with chili powder. 

    Serve immediately with the crudités or store in an airtight container, refrigerated, for up to 5 days.
Blog Entry CommentsComments: 5 (Last: Lauri · 1/14/14 3:13 PM)

Eggplant Pizza Recipe from Metabolic Cookbook:

(Found via Jennifer D - thanks!)

You’ll Need:
1 eggplant, sliced
1/2 cup pizza sauce
1/2 cup mozzarella cheese
1/2 tsp each salt and pepper
2 tsp olive oil for brushing
toppings as needed

Slice the eggplant and sprinkle with some salt on each side. Set aside for thirty minutes, then rinse and pat dry. This will take some of the bitterness out of the eggplant, especially if you’re using a larger/older fruit.
Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Brush each side of the eggplant slices with olive oil, then sprinkle both sides 1/2 tsp each salt and pepper. Place the eggplants on a cooling rack that’s on a baking sheet, and bake until they are softened and a little brown, about six minutes.
Spoon the tomato sauce on the eggplant slices, then add the cheese and toppings. I’m sure you know how to make pizza! Our favorite toppings are black olives, mushrooms, and nitrate-free pepperoni.
Return the baking sheet to the oven and bake for another five minutes, until the cheese is melted. Go ahead and broil it for a minute if you’d like some extra crispy toppings.
That’s it! The eggplants are a little more tangy than your everyday pizza crust, but I’ve come to really enjoy their distinct taste as an impromptu pizza crust.

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 1 (Last: Slaz · 1/7/14 8:23 AM)


I even have some Christmas wrapping paper left over.I have no presents to wrap, but still....


Blog Entry CommentsComments: 3 (Last: Slaz · 12/24/13 8:38 AM)

Nutter Butter cookies, frosting, pretzel twists, M and M's and you're set!

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 3 (Last: Slaz · 12/24/13 8:37 AM)

Now if only I lived near Lori for her birthday...

Blog Entry CommentsComments: 3 (Last: Slaz · 12/24/13 8:29 AM)
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