tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58213212012-01-12T15:28:40.046+01:00lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.comBlogger11641100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-41238951084812750572011-11-30T15:20:00.003+01:002012-01-12T15:28:40.059+01:00

turkeydressingmashed potatoesgravybrussels sproutsgreen bean casserolecranberrygooseberryrollspumpkin pieapplecaketopfenstrudelhot buttered rumcheese

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-49113938933821617322011-10-02T13:22:00.000+01:002011-11-17T22:21:38.888+01:00

you're learning to write, to draw. You can do up your own coat. You are already starting to be growing out of pink - i knew it wouldn't last forever, but it still goes by so quickly. We build things with legos, all of us, we read books, we draw. You love food and have very specific ideas - for your birthday, you wanted gazpacho and bear cake and yogurt-berry glass cups. you help in the

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-18347120121507708482011-09-30T09:46:00.002+01:002011-09-30T11:57:51.117+01:00

i feel like i have been dipped in honey. Obviously i mean this in a good way - i swim in it, breathe in it, float on. My favorite color is the yelloworange sun, the green that grows, the infinitely variable blue sky.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-11540344601508708942011-08-05T17:38:00.000+01:002011-09-05T17:39:12.340+01:00

SCENE II. A hall in the castle. Enter HAMLET and Players HAMLET Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-37561833628641179342011-07-05T17:35:00.000+01:002011-09-05T17:36:40.754+01:00

SCENE I. A room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS And can you, by no drift of circumstance, Get from him why he puts on this confusion, Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?ROSENCRANTZ He does confess he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-53272166471672175542011-06-12T20:44:00.003+01:002011-07-27T11:05:19.680+01:00

only water, clear water. i find my body in a place i did not leave it: i look around and inspect myself, and i am unharmed, and this is when i observe it simultaneously quite unremarkable, rather expected really, and utterly shocking. (this cheese sandwich is sublime. Want to hear about it? Nah.)

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-25631762019583347852011-06-08T09:45:00.003+01:002011-06-08T11:33:04.870+01:00

i know i don't have to repaint the old place (though they'd want it all white if i did) but i want to leave it clean and habitable. i want my deposit back, sure, but i want to close it and leave it behind me and, i don't know, maybe not be ashamed of the time i was there, of the state i left it in. And so i touch up the walls, all the same, the holes in the tile from the vormieter i can't do

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-45522343277842714802011-05-26T22:26:00.007+01:002011-05-27T22:33:17.735+01:00

(or, rather, i may have skipped several chapters, i can't ... have that conversation, over and over and over, i can't. i'm done. i won't.)i think maybe something in me is whole that wasn't before.but that isn't it - that isn't it at all. those are entirely the wrong words, it'smaybe i should learn tibetan. maybe hindu. aramaic, even. i don't think it would go any better in german. but ii

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-29732459734418948272011-04-15T08:04:00.000+01:002011-05-02T08:05:43.689+01:00

SCENE I. A room in the castle.Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS And can you, by no drift of circumstance,Get from him why he puts on this confusion,Grating so harshly all his days of quietWith turbulent and dangerous lunacy?ROSENCRANTZ He does confess he feels himself distracted;But from what cause he will by no means

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-56802824678086284722011-03-01T09:43:00.004+01:002011-03-01T14:21:05.411+01:00

i dreamt, in the very literal sense, while i was sleeping, some days or even weeks ago: i'd had it before, a hundred times or more, and never come to the end. i did it, finally, and it was what i'd been dreading, and it was all okay, when i was there. It was my turn. It was only the anticipation that was so awful.I know this, i've always known, since the beginning. I remember talking about it

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-7105828258807400562011-02-23T10:21:00.004+01:002011-02-23T10:42:43.272+01:00

THE BEST MASKED COSTUMES CONTESTCasting:Thursday, March 3rd, 12pm-2pm and 4pm-5pmFriday, March 4th, 12pm-2pm and 4pm-5pmSaturday, March 5th, 12pm-2pm and 4pm-5pmConclusion:Sunday, March 6th, from 3pmPiazza San MarcoTHE GRAND FOYER OF SAN MARCO SHOWFrom Saturday, February 26th until Tuesday, March 8th. 2pm till late night.Piazza San MarcoDuring the Carnival time, from February 26th to March 8th,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-86198458487788785952011-02-03T21:53:00.003+01:002011-02-03T22:10:22.244+01:00

tea with milk and pajama separates and a nine hundred page book on the recent history of europe to slumber with - this, this is living, too. when i sit very still i can feel the tea scalding my esophagus, down and down and down. For a Quaker you sure like talking. well, for a scientist i sure don't ask a lot of questions.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-52502212375334098222011-01-31T09:04:00.003+01:002011-01-31T13:44:06.010+01:00

Think of how they catch the sunlight from the window and gleam, and the edges curl up and firelick into warm. i rinse coffee mugs, two by two, plan to visit the Italians downstairs. Plan laundry again, and glad for it. There is a trivet shaped like a turtle in the key-and-shoemakers' down the street, not the nearest one, i think castiron but big brassy yellow on top, and i have been walking

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-26698478055399964032011-01-23T21:48:00.004+01:002011-01-23T22:35:07.889+01:00

I wonder idly what it sounds like in Pamplona, that day, if it's humid or if dust rises in the streets. If i'm dreaming i think i am floating, not far, not high, but enough. If i'm dreaming i think i can't see, they were right after all, before my eyes are open again, and the moment i blink lasts a lifetime. I am not dreaming.If i step back i see myself tracing paths, i know how it works, and

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-32197529013711521282011-01-17T09:40:00.003+01:002011-01-17T12:36:42.661+01:00

a cat in sunshine, a crow on a high breeze. A lizard on a warm rock. I stretch and curl and know i have time left. My skin is oily from long days, my eyes tight from not sleeping, somewhere between my shoulder blades, there is a tightness, and my hips ache. I feel much older than i used to do, and more appreciative, to be found as my own long-forgotten friend. I know i am here. I know this

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-91717783548406823022010-12-14T19:32:00.003+01:002010-12-14T20:46:54.014+01:00

Not bloody likely, clear. The snow is blowing sideways, blowing my eyes shut and watery, unwrapping scarves, borrowing hats if you're not careful, and the cold is never so bad but the wind, the wind. The wind! How anyone could forge a city in this blasted place, and i think, i know, i say this about everywhere i've ever lived, and sure, they might have been coming from somewhere unimaginable,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-67026794178541725172010-12-10T12:29:00.004+01:002010-12-10T12:52:43.748+01:00

crummy coffee but i am still warmed to my toes. i leave my phone number at the international church, that i have a spare Gitterbett, maybe someone can use it, someone like me with no family in Vienna, maybe they will know someone who would need it, that i live here, nearby, and i feel oddly Christian, in the season, in this season, like that i've inadvertently eaten a fish on a Friday and only

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-40246644250052045282010-12-09T20:09:00.002+01:002010-12-09T22:43:24.367+01:00

moving only the tip, like a subtle, patient, hunting cat, but not like at all. I am hungry and not hungry, weighing myself against myself, frantic and not frantic. i did not see this coming. how could i have seen this coming? everyone said, when everyone always said. seconds become minutes, minutes become hours, i can only imagine what it would be. i do not think i ought to be surprised,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-61664060119167217072010-12-06T13:14:00.003+01:002010-12-06T14:44:29.086+01:00

a lazy Sunday and i only leave the house to walk the dog: it counts as getting dressed, as going outside, as a technicality. I pull on my hat and gloves at least. Outside is minus eight degrees, snow and ice and wind, and inside i have hot coffee, hot bath, the easyconstant invitation of a flannel duvet. I brought home a new blanket from the Swedish furniture place again, a pillow for the

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-1669599634843689812010-11-29T12:05:00.003+01:002010-11-29T13:21:44.194+01:00

It was white in Vienna last night, on the sidewalk and the trees and the grass, cars wrapped in cloud with headlights showing the little rushing dancers. I remember driving in snow, the way it comes at you all hypnotic-like, and even now though i am not moving fast it comes in the same way when i look up, appearing out of nothingness, tracing paths that add up to chaos. The treeboughs in the

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-10472124391423052572010-11-28T22:06:00.001+01:002010-11-28T23:10:50.979+01:00

There are three open bottles of wine in my house. I delegate bringing wine, it's easier, and then this is what i end up with. What ever shall i do ...Salud.P brought an appetizer, consisting of feta and salad and stuffed mushrooms and those breaded sage leaves, and i don't know what she does to the mushrooms but she nails it every time.The first day i cubed the breads, made a couple of potatoes

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-33420236768913847692010-11-23T12:11:00.004+01:002010-11-23T14:40:00.234+01:00

the sun is shining, now, in november. E asks if it is summer, points out the little white clouds, the big white clouds, moving fast against each other. I feel the wind in my hair, distantly, and i can hardly remember what it is to be cold. I feel like a great bear with the heart of a hummingbird, lost and found in the same moment. Flying time is glacial-still, running and notmoving,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-84436753684337393062010-11-18T21:15:00.003+01:002010-11-18T23:51:48.508+01:00

i think i play my cards close in, without meaning to. a door closes, a door opens, a door swings back and forth in a saloon, moving stripes of light on the dust in the air. i look up.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-92231063435043402802010-11-17T17:13:00.004+01:002010-11-17T17:47:49.369+01:00

if living well is the best revenge, equally, living well is the best tribute. how is that possible? i saw his reflection in la joconde, before the age of digital cameras ... doesn't that mean you live forever? find peace, luke, old friend. I hate when this happens.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-52562090748293675442010-11-16T16:29:00.003+01:002010-11-16T16:41:55.093+01:00

construction again and some fluorescent yellow vests direct traffic like matadors, flourishing their hands with every lane change. All stop! Now you! And stop again! The traffic is backed up badly on the main road. Some of the billboards have been taken down and there is a vista of holes, of cranes, of diggers and bulldozers, of some massively tall and solid and repeatedly loud machine that

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-72525794772776814732010-11-14T20:32:00.002+01:002010-11-14T20:46:56.683+01:00

a white half-moon, a black sky. i wish i knew what the future tasted like. Is it salty, is it sweet? Maybe it smells like an inkjet printer, maybe like a rich old forest. Maybe like fire. i find the raclette that's been in the fridge for so long already, i still have no options, no implementry, and i melt it over an omelet, good mushrooms, good morning.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-3261605663636112782010-11-13T08:03:00.004+01:002010-11-13T08:25:58.441+01:00

ninety-five hundred is ninety-five hundred more than two weeks ago, but with the month a third gone it'll probably finish before i do. That's okay. A kick in the pants is a kick in the pants ... and i am happier about every new distraction. not stopping, not now, maybe not ever, but i will forgive myself if it's done in december, done in january.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-71147861165683851022010-11-07T23:21:00.002+01:002010-11-07T23:34:40.754+01:00

Fifty thousand words is a lot of words.Just saying.For the record, google docs has a word count.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-89932101979578212412010-11-01T17:51:00.003+01:002010-11-01T18:25:59.014+01:00

it is november. why is my computer with all my notes on it in the fucking shop? ARGH. Fine. Does this mean i have to do yoga instead? or does google docs have a word count? Wish me luck.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-54926211812596153642010-10-24T21:25:00.004+01:002010-10-24T22:06:30.894+01:00

I wake up to the first Noble Truth and do not have to search for its origin. Compliments come in many forms, in many lessons, i fizz with the sum of them. I walk the dog and find fifty forints on the foundation wall of the building across the street. I walk the dog through the park, yellow leaves on the wet green grass, trees red against the sun, a mallard at the pond, a male, with his shiny

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-593949551105178272010-10-14T07:51:00.003+01:002010-10-14T12:18:49.109+01:00

I walk because then it feels like i'm getting somewhere, when she's at his, i leave it all behind me, a trail of black smoke rising from my ears, streaming behind me in the Vienna wind like a gymnast's ribbons. I stop when i want, windowshopping, walking fast, leisurely fingering the scarves hanging on the sidewalk stands. I flow between people, single or in groups, men and women, old and young

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-60725102200025273922010-10-13T13:11:00.003+01:002010-10-13T13:22:06.358+01:00

i read like i am drowning - i am nearly halfway done with Postwar, i have devoured three novels this week, and i will finish these before i am done here: Against the Day, Finnegan's Wake, Moby-Dick. i will burn through that pilates dvd. i will finish the damned rosetta stone, i have to, i should take the german integrationsvereinbarung test. i will clean the floor every day when E is done with

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-18276865960490347292010-10-05T09:53:00.000+01:002010-10-05T09:54:24.060+01:00

Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants KING CLAUDIUS Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!Moreover that we much did long to see you,The need we have to use you did provokeOur hasty sending. Something have you heardOf Hamlet's transformation; so call it,Sith nor the exterior nor the inward manResembles that it was. What it should be,More than his

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-35652004408462390402010-10-04T11:34:00.004+01:002010-10-04T12:42:09.062+01:00

A man in blue factory overalls and a worn flannel jacket holding a tiny, longhaired dog, its leash looped halfway around and nearly dragging on the ground. Eyebrows close together, mouth a pinched line, he holds it on one arm close to his chest and strokes its silky ears with his other hand, gently, ever so gently, looking straight ahead. The man's eyes are wide and glistening and his forehead

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-50108102581286492712010-09-25T15:39:00.002+01:002010-09-25T16:14:34.578+01:00

a rainy day, stopping often enough but never a lot of time for the street to dry. words on a shirt, words over a sandwich, words between coffee, an easy river. I watch the people go by on the street, raising and lowering umbrellas, hoods, newspaper. The beggars stand up and make their way homewards. i dream: a boat, blue water, blue sky. i take myself away and breathe sunshine. all of this

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-86305424517017409962010-09-22T13:06:00.004+01:002010-09-22T19:32:26.538+01:00

i cast a circle, a perimeter fence, i draw it in close against my skin like a layer of sweat. this will not hurt me if. this will not touch me if. i test its safety, moving within it, shifting beneath it, measuring myself against glaciers and tides and redshift. (you are so far away from me.) i trace its outlines, toe its edges, skirt it like it doesn't matter after all.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-38868113882001943672010-09-15T17:10:00.004+01:002010-09-15T17:58:02.187+01:00

black is white. up is down. yes is no. I will never give knives as a wedding present. first an onion: tear off the skin, trash. Quickly dice, oil, flames, bigblueflames. i cut the peppers, i tear out the whites, big chops, big pieces, slicing, slicing. Everything on the fire. I force out the insides of mushrooms with my thumbs. I put my wet finger on an ice cube and wait, again, three

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-7695094661705419422010-09-14T08:50:00.003+01:002010-09-14T09:13:11.943+01:00

The coffee machine at work sputters, the nozzles must need cleaning, and i lick warm cream from the rim of my mug and close my eyes.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-68955330400315619922010-09-13T08:19:00.003+01:002010-09-13T08:33:46.226+01:00

a glider, over the city, just below the autumn clouds of morning. So delicate, so slow, and i imagine the pure silence of it. Compare to here on the road, the cars and the trucks and buses and the construction scrapes and hammers, big-man motorcycles with no mufflers, horns and radios and people shouting, and i look up and the glider skims the cumulus underside like a waterbug.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-26162677909563109342010-09-12T19:02:00.004+01:002010-09-12T20:12:08.421+01:00

a day at the zoo. i jump with both feet into nothing, over nothing, with no preparation. we see the baby elephant. i risk everything, like i almost remember how i used to do. there is a mass of people before the tiger, but the lions are always sleeping and abandoned. small things, big things, and my perspective cuts between, racing in sequence, until i can't tell which battles to pick and so

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-4776041949194384732010-09-10T07:56:00.001+01:002010-09-10T07:56:37.621+01:00

*save template changes*sweet.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-66208188827827424612010-09-09T15:31:00.005+01:002010-09-09T16:36:16.408+01:00

I press my opportunity while noone is in my office: i will take this fried chicken with my fingers. The Austrians will not see me. How on earth they use forks and knives for the darndest things, i think i am too old to learn, but i keep chopsticks at my desk.Munchkin comes home from kindergarten and requests, specifically, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a plate. On a plate, mommy, i

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-1786315556650374002010-09-07T10:05:00.000+01:002010-09-07T10:11:56.035+01:00

The Dream in a relative greenspace, a fine bedtime story for my princess, with the painted fairies and the giggling and the Dramatic Dashing About. We may go back again. She doesn't get the jokes, i hope, not yet, but cheers when i do. He gave back the flowers for the premiere - i tried to get her to choose roses, i wanted the yellow ones, but she had none of it, so now they sit on my table.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-35280439677188354242010-09-06T08:00:00.003+01:002010-09-06T09:08:33.931+01:00

Picked up on that, did you? I am not afraid of this moment, this bubble of time within which we travel. Not now, not today. Maybe tomorrow i call the lifecoach again, who can say? (PSA: holy shit, do i ever recommend that.) When i was a kid, i said no when i should have said yes (when i should have said yes i will yes), and then i had regret for things i had not done. Only ever for things i

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-7704346828272048412010-09-04T15:47:00.004+01:002010-09-04T16:11:55.446+01:00

I love peaches when they're perfect, in season, yellowflesh and with the promise of sticky leaving a line down your wrist. This one, these, all of them. I love mangoes, the way i always think the skin smells intoxicatingly like a pine forest on a certain day (however long ago that was), the way the insides are so slippery, the way the strings that get caught in your teeth still taste of it, and

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-79644399362991229562010-08-31T19:57:00.005+01:002010-08-31T20:15:05.828+01:00

It's stopped raining but the streets are still wet. I wonder how many of the slugs on the sidewalk made it through the day; i wore my winter boots for the second time in a week. It will be cold again soon. I open my window, i can hear the cars on the gurtel. No trucks at this hour. Most of the other windows are dark, as ever, but i can see a few: there is someone playing video games around

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-65530419029881018502010-08-29T10:00:00.004+01:002010-08-29T19:49:16.912+01:00

it's been simply ages. And how do i? but of course, i remember, i remember, i remember ... ow, my head. I'll wait, and stand here, and hold back, and let them go on, and stay in the dark and not think about anything. I step into a doorway and pretend to be a giraffe. Again. Does it matter? The delicacy lingers on my hands, i breathe it in.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-45431234264336988982010-08-24T11:48:00.003+01:002010-08-24T12:11:01.415+01:00

Have just finished reading chapter one of Winnie the Pooh. I told you there wouldn't be very many pictures and that you couldn't read it by yourself (and you said, But when i am big like you mommy, i can read it) and you insisted that i buy it there at the english second-hand bookshop (Why, how, why, could an english second-hand bookshop possibly respect itself at all when it has no Joyce and no

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-70272021080101102442010-08-15T19:54:00.005+01:002010-08-15T22:06:19.759+01:00

the difference between knowing something in my head and knowing it in all the rest of me and the space between those, that rushing chasm, and then i catch up to myself and on the one hand it's great and on the other, well, i already knew that, right? sometimes i think i can almost explain relativity. what is that? what is that? To calculate, exactly, how much slower i am going if i meditate,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-56036004093584065042010-08-12T12:04:00.001+01:002010-08-12T12:06:18.533+01:00

[img] Dalai Lama There is a common perception that compassion is, if not actually an impediment, at least irrelevant to professional life. Personally, I would argue that not only is it relevant, but that when compassion is lacking, our activities are in danger of becoming destructive. This is because when we ignore the question of the impact our actions have on others' well-being, inevitably

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-12062912873779041382010-07-05T18:29:00.003+01:002010-07-05T20:23:32.961+01:00

E: (at dinner's end) I'm excused. I'm scused. Scuse me. I forgive you mommy. I forgive you.Me: That's nice, sweetie. What are you forgiving me for?E: I for giving you a pony.E: Sing Plum mommy.Me: (verse one seven times, plus the bridge, since it's all i can remember, and now i'm apparently going to have to study it)E: I'm gonna sing too mommy.Me, trying to figure out how on earth she

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-42184501793132861332010-06-05T09:51:00.000+01:002010-10-05T09:53:04.465+01:00

SCENE I. A room in POLONIUS' house.Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO LORD POLONIUS Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.REYNALDO I will, my lord.LORD POLONIUS You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,Before you visit him, to make inquireOf his behavior.REYNALDO My lord, I did intend it.LORD POLONIUS Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,Inquire me first what Danskers are in

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-517203963412463042010-05-24T19:12:00.003+01:002010-05-24T19:30:54.724+01:00

You might consider this the best day of your life. You woke up early, early early, and i convinced you to stay in bed until the sun was unavoidably up, and then i put on "da Pwincess movie and da Fwog movie" in a desperate bid to nap on the couch (which worked) but it was still over before even 07:30. We played both kinds of legos, and doppel-moppel, and i think you did a puzzle while i was

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-63686113282475407372010-05-17T08:38:00.002+01:002010-05-17T08:52:41.533+01:00

Oh, E. Why am i not surprised that the little dinosaur is sitting on the mommy dinosaur's head.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-90499691771256654052010-05-16T19:28:00.003+01:002010-05-16T22:39:38.250+01:00

Day Two of pasta e fagioli and you know how that gets better the longer you wait. Gave E a bath (needed, she was coated with sauce after two and a half bowls. Smart girl). Bottle of red. Another (another!) movie with Philip Seymour Hoffman, again, completely by accident; i was aiming for Bill Nighy. this was so much more cheerful sounding in my head three hours ago.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-77033992871644465272010-05-13T15:51:00.004+01:002010-05-13T16:11:22.470+01:00

Despondent. Like anybody wouldn't be despondent. I have every reason for this. And anyway, it comes and goes. I don't know why i keep expecting life to be fair, to make sense. Expecting people to act in ways that are not self-destructive, or to be consistent, or to be anything more or less than human, in a mainly pejorative sense.i play U2 so the neighbors can hear. Dylan. i turn up

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-34034864625748386122010-05-09T19:43:00.004+01:002010-05-09T20:01:40.345+01:00

I? I had a dream, not very recently - maybe last month, that M was in my kitchen, making something in the oven. E was home, the dog was home, everything was normal. Taking out the baking pan he seared his arm from second knuckle to past his elbow on the hot metal, black, red, bits trailing smoke. E was screaming, terrified, and M would not accept help, would not see a doctor, would not do or

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-12583667579860757812010-04-29T15:52:00.003+01:002010-04-29T19:15:07.725+01:00

i know it is spring because the fountains aren't turned off any more and when i walk past an open window somebody is playing the Blues Brothers inside. and i? I walk across a fire. I see things, i hear things, in the name of all that is holy i hear things and how i keep from tearing out my hair is worthy of a medal. I cut my hair at midnight, again, like it's a hobby. It's now time, she

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-73209979833433100692010-03-25T08:51:00.003+01:002010-03-28T21:28:08.694+01:00

Coffee, good coffee, like new silk stirred into cream. A golden silhouette of an eclipsing cloud. The sweet velvet smell of sun on my lips after winter, my eyes closed, in the patience of a long streetcar ride north - i hear people get on, get off, and they are not of the world. These words in a whisper. So long, it's been so long, i am so hungry and so accustomed. My skin is electric,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-57527592593612592972010-03-21T15:42:00.001+01:002010-03-23T21:15:55.948+01:00

Vienna waits for you like Ungoliant, like It, and i say that with all possible affection towards Tim Curry. The spring flowers are showing, the little white asteraceae, the pink, the yellow. Those small dark purple violets that aren't violets, not proper violets, not quite, lying dormant through the long winter, a sleeping dragon, a hibernating bear, biding until their moment comes in the sun.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-37762089917824969562010-03-19T21:22:00.001+01:002010-03-19T21:25:18.888+01:00

what do i need, and what do i believe, and what do i know, and why? if i change this, touch this, know this, see this, feel this. Cold in my house. cold in my bed. am so tired, so morally exhausted. cold in the sun by the window, cold in the bath. if all i am is cold, disconnected, this is no panic attack. I breathe, i do not fear death, i have no physical pain. Some things are better

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-68087035444387979582010-03-18T22:51:00.002+01:002010-03-18T23:25:10.848+01:00

the ground, there, underneath, an illusion, an allusion. I fell, I fall. Two roads in a yellow. It stops. I want to chuck it into the sea and let some lucky diver. A thousand things, a hundred thousand, tiny things, big things. I should sleep, i should sleep, what an idea. If i paint my fingernails black, red, purple, still too near. I notice.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-952407560895660202010-03-17T14:15:00.001+01:002010-03-17T14:26:12.972+01:00

marigold blossom tea, no cakes. A coaster i'll have to replace, cork, on the table i painted by hand, a coat of poly, and another and another and another. The wind blows, the ground crumbles, a city turns to dust. I am terrified of stars exploding. Not ours, particularly, or at all, as i won't see it; but the bigness of them, the power, the cataclysm. Those color photographs NASA publishes

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-81709229803164653252010-03-16T21:30:00.002+01:002010-03-16T22:13:18.041+01:00

The sun shone today: i saw it, there on the far side, away from the rain. I saw it. and then it was gone, again.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-46977482841935367302010-03-12T23:47:00.002+01:002010-03-12T23:51:01.344+01:00

have just finished tropic thunder. Am filled with unexpected glee.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-74198338248829058882010-03-04T15:10:00.004+01:002010-03-04T16:55:11.387+01:00

i write half of something, it dwindles, ... if i follow a thought to the end, i don't want to. i see where they go, like cars on a distant highway. i let them go, on into the darkness ... i look at my fingers, at my hands, they are shaking, my fingers are shaking. i worry that this will sound like i'm depressed, i'm not, i don't think i am, and i think that counts for a lot. I write half of

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-43106589583423584332010-02-08T08:06:00.005+01:002010-02-08T10:02:17.185+01:00

Mommy time get up! Need a hug and a kiss.I want a blueberry yogurt please. I carry da spoon.Mommy dwinking coffee. I have a blueberry yogurt.You stay here, 'poleon. Be safe. 'Poleon under da table. (Napoleon is the ten-inch plastic bee on a string that i keep thinking she has grown out of.) Mommy doesn't fit under da table. Daddy doesn't fit. Mommy doesn't fit in da tent. Dats my

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-29717998462200457392010-01-11T12:39:00.003+01:002010-01-12T21:56:39.799+01:00

this blank space, this massive emptiness, this is the abyss. I fell off the edge of the world: and so i keep falling, and the naked monsters of uncharted madness reach for me. The old maps knew their way. You know, before, i didn't think it was such a sin? I feel like i am grieving someone who laughs at me from opulent pillows, but i am so much more practiced at grieving for death. I have

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-42191563251839276312010-01-08T23:24:00.003+01:002010-01-09T01:53:20.382+01:00

i need to write. Obviously. im itching for it. but how?relatedly, i need to turn up the thermostat and have some tea.I like Hamlet, the talking in circles, the innuendo, the way if you know what they're talking about it's all completely obvious. Other people post lyrics; at least mine is free of copyright regulations, so that's a plus as well. And the themes that sing out across centuries,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-44392438512759864482009-12-30T09:47:00.000+01:002009-12-30T09:47:00.484+01:00

Enter GHOST and HAMLET HAMLET Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.Ghost Mark me.HAMLET I will.Ghost My hour is almost come,When I to sulphurous and tormenting flamesMust render up myself.HAMLET Alas, poor ghost!Ghost Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearingTo what I shall unfold.HAMLET Speak; I am bound to hear.Ghost So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.HAMLET What?Ghost I

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-55565669276398732022009-12-28T09:46:00.000+01:002009-12-28T09:46:00.246+01:00

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS HAMLET The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.HORATIO It is a nipping and an eager air.HAMLET What hour now?HORATIO I think it lacks of twelve.HAMLET No, it is struck.HORATIO Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the seasonWherein the spirit held his wont to walk.A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, withinWhat does this mean, my lord?HAMLET The

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-62669902992647230152009-12-26T09:45:00.000+01:002009-12-26T09:45:00.155+01:00

Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA LAERTES My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:And, sister, as the winds give benefitAnd convoy is assistant, do not sleep,But let me hear from you.OPHELIA Do you doubt that?LAERTES For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,A violet in the youth of primy nature,Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,The perfume and suppliance of a

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-19215786248071969802009-12-24T09:41:00.000+01:002009-12-24T09:41:00.260+01:00

Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants KING CLAUDIUS Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's deathThe memory be green, and that it us befittedTo bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdomTo be contracted in one brow of woe,Yet so far hath discretion fought with natureThat we with wisest sorrow think on him,Together with

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-35871384774215507852009-12-22T09:39:00.001+01:002009-12-22T09:39:00.882+01:00

FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO BERNARDO Who's there?FRANCISCO Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.BERNARDO Long live the king!FRANCISCO Bernardo?BERNARDO He.FRANCISCO You come most carefully upon your hour.BERNARDO 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.FRANCISCO For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,And I am sick at heart.BERNARDO Have you had quiet guard

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-88602186328535646592009-12-18T22:10:00.005+01:002009-12-18T23:51:46.265+01:00

i could always post lyrics, post more recipes. Would that be vague enough for my own conscience, to keep this one slate still clean, if i don't say what i want to say but only one at a time, and one and one and one, until until i don't bleed any more when i open my mouth. i should paint. i could buy a thousand canvases and only black paint, and give them away like candy, black squares, black

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-31783862396579747672009-12-08T09:04:00.004+01:002009-12-08T09:21:50.891+01:00

verbatim so far today (you're throwing off the curve):Mommy time get up Erica turn on light.Mommy no touch juice leave alone! Erica bring juice. Mommy bring fork. Put on table!Erica eat egg big piece.Erica is friend toast peanut butter.Toast peanut butter all gone, Erica all done.Silly Erica!Mommy i like watch a movie please?Mommy come play trains.Where baby hat? Look oh no!Erica is not

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16451150308730577233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-10291748097277328512009-12-02T21:30:00.002+01:002009-12-02T21:32:43.374+01:00

pleaseplease don'tplease

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-75804389203030647692009-11-19T11:25:00.001+01:002009-11-19T11:25:43.700+01:00

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-74668839036155383442009-10-22T11:10:00.002+01:002009-10-22T11:12:49.975+01:00

can't hit publish. not like this.bad day. Again and again and again and again and again and.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-1336944351692222062009-10-07T11:36:00.004+01:002009-10-07T11:55:18.708+01:00

This is good coffee.I have been getting fantastic reviews at work.My daughter is smart and strong and healthy and beautiful.Tomorrow i am going to a chocolate factory.People exist who love me.With no dog i can finally get my house clean.With no husband ... i ... can ... live like this. I can live like this.

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-55686096994375593202009-10-01T20:11:00.002+01:002009-10-01T23:24:13.839+01:00

honey, you don't deserve this.you are so exuberant, so vital. And i feel like your life and your future is crumbling and i can't stop it and you can't either, of course.There are so many cliches i could use. So many. And the world is spinning, dancing like lights, swirling like vultures or sharks. Like a hurricane. Killer bees. and here i am at the eye, the center, the vortex, the nadir,

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-46694376183318873012009-09-14T16:17:00.000+01:002009-09-14T16:18:20.574+01:00

• 3 cups flour • 4 whole eggs • 1 tsp. salt • 1/2 cup sugar • not quite 1/2 quart of milk • 1/4 cup melted butter • 3 heaping Tbls. lard • Confection sugar In a bowl mix the flour, 4 eggs, salt, milk and melted butter.Mix with a whisk until smooth.Melt the lard in a cast iron pot, get it very hot!Pour in all the batter at once and cook it as a large pancake, over high heat.As it cooks lift up the

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-63480866581557027102009-09-13T21:25:00.000+01:002009-09-13T21:26:23.693+01:00

• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil• 1 onion, chopped• 1 (10 ounce) package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and drained• 5 eggs, beaten• 3 cups shredded Muenster cheese• 1/4 teaspoon salt• 1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Lightly grease a 9 inch pie pan. 2. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-5241500607878240592009-09-12T09:16:00.000+01:002009-09-12T09:17:50.781+01:00

8 oz. Cream Cheese8 oz. (2 sticks) Butter2 cups FlourSalt & Pepper to tasteGlaze: Egg yolk and ~1 Tsp. of milkPossible additions: crisped bacon bits, sesame or caraway seeds, onion bits, etc.1. Soften cream cheese and butter at room temperature.2. Work cream cheese, butter and flour together well by hand. 3. Roll out (on a lightly flowered surface) to about ½ inch thickness, and fold over;

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-22532427158503060212009-09-11T11:58:00.000+01:002009-09-11T11:59:05.934+01:00

1 1/2 cups whole-wheat pastry flour1 cup all-purpose flour2 teaspoons baking soda2 teaspoons ground ginger or 4 teaspoons finely chopped fresh ginger1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon1/2 teaspoon salt1 large egg1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar1/4 cup canola oil1 cup molasses1 cup applesauce1/2 cup buttermilk1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Coat an 8x11-1/2-inch baking pan with cooking spray.2

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-5035633524994458902009-08-11T11:56:00.000+01:002009-09-12T10:02:59.470+01:00

4 teaspoons fresh grated ginger4 teaspoons honey, or more to taste2 cups seltzer waterLemon slicesIce1. Finely chop or shred ginger in a food processor or with a hand grater. Boil 2 cups water and add the ginger. Cover and steep for 10 minutes. Strain.2. Add honey. 3. Let cool to room temperature. Pour 1/2 cup into a glass. Add seltzer, a lemon slice, and ice. Stir and serve. Refrigerate any

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-4236185989521066662009-07-20T19:51:00.000+01:002009-07-20T20:00:04.911+01:00

a deliberately empty post

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-16833784450066091242009-07-10T13:09:00.000+01:002009-07-10T13:10:49.307+01:00

Bought a summer rain coat. It was cheap. Now after not even a freaking month it has lost two buttons and the hanging tag. Is identical to this one and it's on sale now and i wants it. Should learn. Proper outerwear. Not the cheap stuff. (Learn also: shoes.)

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-46750889295139099842009-07-06T13:01:00.002+01:002009-07-06T13:47:52.909+01:00

Your grandparents, M's parents, are here visiting, and you recognized them from Skype immediately. Every day since they have been here, immediately when you wake up or at least when the doorbell rings you shriek, MIMI! GRAMPA! and are very happy and excited. I think the bunch of you are having lots of fun, going to the park and playing with all the toys they brought (the magnetic dress-up

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-59705364588458499412009-06-05T13:44:00.004+01:002009-12-21T09:56:51.212+01:00

That fucking whore

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-41532740793804202532009-06-04T19:09:00.003+01:002009-06-04T20:07:00.863+01:00

More sentences. Mama come. Sit down. Red yogurt. Go fast. Byebye people. And you can say please and dankeschön and bitte, and you can repeat numbers and nearly all the letters of the alphabet (your favorite is W: dubble ooo!) and will repeat many words that are said. You like to count, or to pretend to count, though it's hard to tell which. You are of course able to request more things as

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-61483344484787171582009-05-16T20:46:00.003+01:002009-12-21T09:53:27.209+01:00

including, most recently as far as i am concerned, the curious incident of the dog in the night-time. Which was not funny. also a confederacy of dunces which did not make me laugh. Rain man. it should be something one does for enjoyment, reading novels. And with these it was just depressing. I do not need extra things to make me depressed and isolated and exhausted and hopeless. all these

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-81473692137169726212009-05-08T19:32:00.004+01:002009-05-08T22:24:48.310+01:00

Sometimes you have days where you don't stop moving at all, and these days are exhausting and funny, and sometimes you have days where you won't leave my side at all and want to be held all the time and make your dying banshee noises if i put you down to even make you lunch, and these days are exhausting and funny afterward. We are finally, really and truly, done with the breastfeeding. At

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-50285104540321033532009-04-19T21:10:00.000+01:002009-04-19T21:23:23.193+01:00

Ever since we came back i have been eating brioche at every opportunity. As a snack, with nutella. For breakfast, with butter and jam. In sandwich form. Stacks of grilled cheese. And i think i might be missing the point by maybe just a hair because i get the brioche from anywhere, including the discount grocery, not even a proper bakery, and sock it away in the toaster and then it is warm

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-49043367468452936712009-04-19T10:56:00.002+01:002009-04-19T11:00:01.281+01:00

AA was once an apple pie,PidyWidyTidyPidyNice insidyApple Pie!BB was once a little bear,Beary!Wary!Hairy!Beary!Taky cary!Little Bear!CC was once a little cake,CakyBakyMakyCakyTaky Caky,Little Cake!DD was once a little doll,DollyMollyPollyNollyNursy DollyLittle Doll!EE was once a little eel,Eely,WeelyPeelyEelyTwirly, TweedyLittle Eel!FF was once a little fish,FishyWishySquishyFishyIn a DishyLittle

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-85269341587936476582009-04-19T10:55:00.002+01:002009-04-19T10:56:21.882+01:00

A birdie with a yellow billHopped upon the window sill,Cocked his shining eye and said:"Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?"

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-23536147617174996912009-04-19T10:55:00.001+01:002009-04-19T10:55:49.937+01:00

There was an Old Man with a beard,Who said, "It is just as I feared!-Two owls and a hen,Four larks and a wren,Have all built their nests in my beard!"

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-21931266482613370682009-04-19T10:54:00.000+01:002009-04-19T10:55:14.959+01:00

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,And what can be the use of her is more than I can see.She is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;And I see her jump before me, when I jump into my bed.The funniest things about her is the way she likes to grow-Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;For she sometimes shoots up taller like an India rubber ball,And

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-17408836315276404332009-04-19T10:53:00.001+01:002009-04-19T10:54:31.947+01:00

Two little kittens, one stormy night,Began to quarrel, and then to fight;One had a mouse, the other had none,And that's the way the quarrel begun."I'll have that mouse," sad the biggest cat;"You'll have that mouse? We'll see about that!""I will have that mouse," said the eldest son;"You shan't have the mouse," said the little one.I told you before 'twas a stormy nightWhen these two little kittens

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821321.post-14419891903926744652009-04-19T07:54:00.001+01:002009-04-19T10:53:09.090+01:00

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,"And your hair has become very white;And yet you incessantly stand on your head-Do you think, at your age age, it is right?""In my youth," Father William replied to his son,"I feared it might injure the brain;But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,Why, I do it again and again.""You are old," said the youth, " as I mentioned before,And have

lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09299201506487056087noreply@blogger.com0