Magnolia

In high school, when my friend Jane and I passed notes back and forth, we used code names in case our information fell into enemy hands. I went by “Magnolia.” It came from that Grateful Dead song, which I loved, but I don’t think I really thought about magnolias much until we moved to Arlington, Va., into a house that had this magnolia tree growing in the front yard. I’m posting a picture of it in honor of National Poetry Month.

That Joyce Kilmer “I think that I shall never see” poem? I’m pretty sure he was talking about my tree. (Just in case he wasn’t, I try to sneak magnolia references into my own writing when I can.)

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You can also follow this link to see my Magnolia in Winter.

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Alex Chilton, RIP

big-star-97-lThere have been a number of celebrity-type people who have died recently that I’ve wanted to write about. John Hughes, the man who directed the movies that became both the text and the soundtrack for my coming of age. Michael Jackson, who brings with him a cavalcade of bizarre, mixed emotions that are somehow chased away when I turn on the happy beats of ABC. I let them pass without any written words. But tonight when I learned that Alex Chilton had died I wanted to try to put something down on paper/keyboard. I thought I was speechless, but it turned out I was only almost speechless. I tried typing his name. I had plenty to say.

Read on

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Five for St. Patrick’s Day

1. Why, when I cook corned beef, does it always turn out gray? Poor meat.
2. We used to live across the street from a little bar named Paddy’s in Cambridge, Mass. It was a neighborhood joint, one of those places where you rarely saw a woman enter. I always think about it on days like today, and wish I’d gone in to stay instead of just to peek.
3. Green beer = unappealing. Green bagels = even worse. Green cookies = another story.
4. I am a fan of any holiday that promotes fun and silliness. Pickle Week? I’m there. My only problem with St. Pat’s Day is that the other kids always pinched me, even when I was wearing green.
5. Apparently there is a shamrock shortage in Ireland this year due to severe weather. We’ve had a winter here, too, but today it’s sunny and 60 and I’m going to plant some Japanese turnips and some rainbow Swiss Chard.

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Penny Winner

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It is time once again to put my trusty numbers into my trusty hat and pick a winner of a copy of Moira Rose Donohue’s PENNY AND THE PUNCTUATION BEE. This particular hat is one of my favorites; it looks like someone got hold of the Bedazzler and went a little nuts. The sparkles make me think it would be suitable attire for an exclamation point, no? And the winner of the Penny book is (drumroll): Heidi Quist, who loves the dash.! You can find Heidi’s blog at fictophile.blogspot.com. Congratulations to Heidi and thanks to everyone for entering.

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Poetry Friday and a lost cell phone

I left my cell phone in my pants pocket last night and — to use the passive in an attempt not to cast blame, particularly upon myself — it got washed. Friends have pointed out that it is now a very clean cell phone. It is also, unfortunately, dead. (My friend Tracy, who has worked for years in the cell phone industry, suggested, as a last ditch effort: brushing it with alcohol, then putting it in the oven at no more than 125 degrees for a few minutes, then placing it in dry rice. I’m trying that, but even he doesn’t hold much hope. We’re talking spin cycle, people.)

I posted a very brief status update on my Facebook page that sounded a bit like a haiku. So now I am posting a real haiku as part of Poetry Friday. If you, too, have destroyed your cell phone and feel like writing a haiku about it, leave one in the comments. Here’s mine:

soggy little cell
washing machine waterloo
my life on a SIM

And, heck, here’s another.

cell awash once more
at least it’s not an iPhone
Uncle Ben can’t help

Poetry Friday this week is hosted by Becky and Becky’s Book Reviews.

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