words for sunday

"Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God:

But only he who sees takes off his shoes."

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Calling Home

Don't know why I am only now alerting my 15 readers to the presence of this book in the world.

Full disclosure: I am related to the author, Rebecca Flowers, though not by blood (just incredible affection).

So, but anyway, in the interest of perhaps alerting one perfect reader for this perfect summer confection of a story, here goes.

Our heroine, Prudence Whistler, is the kind of person who likes to have her life all planned out, and when we meet her, pretty much everything she'd worked for has blown up in her face. Fired from her job, then unceremoniously dumped by her wimp of a boyfriend, she finds herself with no Plan B.

Luckily, Prudence Whistler is also the kind of person who finds clean pajamas and a DVD of The Godfather to be the perfect spiritual solace. She's tough, tougher than she ever imagined. And she becomes the unwilling companion to a spastic, ill-tempered cat. And her single-mom sister shows up, pulling lots of baggage behind her. Then there's the cute but gruff guy who owns the coffee shop up the street...

The book is witty, often wise, always warm, and definitely a lovely way to unwind.

Yes, it's summer, people. Escape.

Hypermiling

Here's a movement whose moment has arrived--at precisely the speed limit.

It's called hypermiling, and it uses techniques that tend to maintain constant speeds and eliminate braking. Hypermiling maximizes your mileage with potentially dramatic fuel and cost savings. There is some evidence (a little quirky) that it could actually break up traffic logjams, too.

And all you have to do is drive like me.

For years I have driven passengers crazy with my tendency to let my foot drift off the accelerator, my slow-rolling stops, and my overall lack of speed. I haven't done it precisely on purpose; I daydream a bit, you might say.

But today I consciously drove the hypermiling path, and I am here to say that it takes some getting used to, but is a very pleasant way to game the road. Since I drive in stop-and-go city conditions, it's more than a little hard to break the habit of scooting back and forth between the accelerator and brake, but maybe by the end of the week I'll have the hang of it.

And I might be driving more safely, I think. What with all that looking around to see who's speeding, who's stopping, and who is in between.

I've been getting about 18 in the city, and at $50 a fill-up, I'd sure like to gain seven miles or so per gallon. Fingers crossed.

April Is Not Only the Cruellest Month

...It is also National Poetry Month
















Always Marry an April Girl
by Ogden Nash

Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

Poetry Monday

The Rain
by Robert Creeley

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.




[via The Poetry Foundation. Image via realtater]

The Steampunk Desktop

Steampunk refers to a subgenre of cyberpunk that is taken up with the pleasures and regrets of the Age of Steam.

So much so, that steampunks will go to great lengths to outfit their modern conveniences--such as this LCD monitor--to resemble machines from yesteryear.

Check out the amusing and informative (if not always user friendly) Steampunk Workshop for all sorts of ideas on outfitting your latterday gear with brass fittings and analog charm.

Poetry Tuesday

Persephone, Falling

by Rita Dove

One narcissus among the ordinary beautiful
flowers, one unlike all the others!  She pulled,
stooped to pull harder—
when, sprung out of the earth
on his glittering terrible
carriage, he claimed his due.
It is finished.  No one heard her.
No one!  She had strayed from the herd.

(Remember: go straight to school.
This is important, stop fooling around!
Don't answer to strangers.  Stick
with your playmates.  Keep your eyes down.)
This is how easily the pit
opens.  This is how one foot sinks into the ground.

[poem via poets.org and the Academy of American Poets. Image via Special Organic Soils]