gimme that turkey.

On a typical Thanksgiving morning, I would've made cranberry sauce while watching the Macy's parade in my mom's kitchen. The cranberries would smell oddly like dirt, the kind of generic organic smell all fruits carry in one form or another. They would bob up and down in the water of my saucepan, popping one by one.

This year. I made banana pudding.

With, basically, none of the proper tools. Because my parents are coming to CA soon with all my pots and pans, I guess I just didn't think I needed to take my Grandmother's when we were emptying the house. And I think I missed an entire drawer of stuff, which included large spoons of any kind and the measuring cup.

So.

I found these bowls of my grandmother's that had probably never even been taken out of the box before (they still had plastic around them) that said they could "go from stove to refrigerator". I cooked what I hoped was at least close to six cups of milk and two packs of banana cream pudding in a metal bowl. On my new stove that I'd never used before. Cook on medium heat until mixture comes to a full boil. Are they kidding or did I just not use enough milk? Because this stuff turned into pudding right there on the burner. All while I was stirring constantly with a flipper/turner thing...which I'd really only used previously to take "break and bake" cookies off the cookie sheet. Aside from a strange condensation on the bottom of the bowl which ended up causing a strange hissing noise as it fizzled away, that part turned out okay.

But for future reference, I wouldn't reccommend transporting pudding from a hot bowl with no handle to anything else with a slotted flipper. I was actually considering using salad tongs, since, technically, half of the tongs was a spoon. Instead, though, I held two plastic spoons together and did this little hop dance from one bowl to the next.

This year, I'm thankful for bananas, the only fruit in the world that can be so easily cut with a plastic knife.

I'm thankful for many things. Life is looking up.

I hope you're reading this after your tummy is full and you've had a chance to count your blessings. Have wonderful Thanksgiving.

news blurb.

John and I have officially moved to Burbank. My commute went from being over two hours a day to about a half hour or less, which is really great. Lately I was spending more time with Robert Siegel than I was with my husband.

We've done some actual, grown-up furniture shopping. Pretty exciting stuff, buying a couch. Our new refrigerator is supposed to be delivered this afternoon.

a poem and a sad story.

The metaphor is almost,
no--
is too obvious.
This man who sounds like my father,
over the popping and crackle of a phone that's needed replacing for years,
tells me he feels fine.
The biopsy revealed
he has silica in his lungs.

Silica, in little paper packages:

in the toes of patent leather church shoes
with "little bitty buckles" his heavy hands could barely fasten
(as I brushed my cheek on his stiff collar--
Old Spice is almost,
no--
is too obvious now);

in molds, I think;

in countless nooks, crannies, and doll boxes;

to remove moisture?

The disease is shaped like honeycomb,
as though, somehow,
it thought we need

a reminder.

We already know these things.

Sylvia Plath was given a beekeeper.
I close my eyes
and see the man on stage,
spinning plates on sticks depend on his encouragement.

Honeycomb lungs for the man
who went to work on the morning of my wedding day.
He occupies my words as
wrenches and lathes:

Metaphor becomes useless with only the thing.

--October 30, 2004, sitting on the ground in Tomorrowland.

As I was shuffling around the entire section of tv/movie star biographies at work today, a man came up and started making polite conversation with me:

Wouldn't it be great if you could just internalize all the material in books just by touching them?

I nodded.

I'd just shelve books all day long.

Of course, I didn't have anything terribly interesting to say in response, so I just agreed and kept working. And then he asked how I got the job. Did I have a background in English? Was I from Kentucky originally? Why didn't I have an accent? What did I study? Rita Dove? Oh, yes, National Poet Laureate. Mhmm. Had I read much Wallace Stevens?

He had done graduate work at NYU. He was talking to me because he was in the store...selling his books. Because he has no job and needs money.

Selling your books because you need the money...

How does it go? Go to grad school and make yourself even more unemployable?

I want to keep the plates spinning, Dad. And I want to add more.

If I could only realize in "real life" the excitement I feel over being able to bring up in casual conversation that Ted Kooser is from Nebraska... Or even that I know who he is.

I don't know. Maybe I'm asking for too much.

I just keep going back to that image of the homeless man in Boyle Heights pushing a shopping cart full of books. Hold out. Hold out 'til the bitter end.

john cougar melancholy.

Well, actually, I was born in small town.

No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be

Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look who's in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and that's good enough for me.

Only, that's not really true. Not all of it anyway. I felt stifled and sweaty, like waking up in the night with the covers twisted around my body when it isn't even cold anyway.

We've been approved for an apartment in Burbank. An apartment roughly twenty yards away from a Starbuck's. Not a creek. Not a hayfield. A Starbuck's. And now that I'm thinking of it, what does their logo mean? Does it really have anything to do with Moby Dick? Because it should.

Call me Frappacino.

Rented Bridget Jones's Diary last night. I'd never seen it before. One of my guilty pleasures is chick lit novels and, Helen Fielding being the queen, I was sort of holding out to read the book. But John has been wanting to go to the movies and I'm sick of seeing Renee Zellweger's face everywhere without having any clue as to what was really going on. So we saw the sequel today.

And I really didn't like either of them. I just hate being out of the loop.

The rather obvious references to Pride and Prejudice were more than a little disconcerting. The best part of the whole experience is the idea that all British women are somehow influenced by Jane Austen the way American women are influenced by Cosmo.

That's not true, of course. Really, it's not all that true that all American women read Cosmo, either, for that matter. But a Jane-filled country is such a pretty thought.

Especially when what's been occupying your brain for the rest of the day is how you're ever going to pay rent in Southern California.

jimmy kimmel can't even make me smirk.

So. No more Hallmark. I now work in a bookstore. And I've decided that if I were in the X-men, I'd be a shapechanger. Like Rebecca Romijn. Only overweight and, you know, not blue and naked.

I watched the American Music Awards tonight. What a bizarre waste of time. John Mayer's guitar mic was turned up louder than the one he was using to sing...so it looked like he was just strumming away and mouthing the words. The audio seemed basically off for most of the performances. I missed Gwen Stefani altogether. Still not sure how that happened. Probably just as well though. Saw Josh Groban though.

I think my least favorite celebrity is Jessica Simpson. And, frankly, the very fact that I've formulated the thought of who my least favorite celebrity is...frightens me.

I'm glad I'm working in a book store now... Intelligence by osmosis. And so on.

moving day...

Well, this is the new design, new domain, and all that jazz. It might be a little buggy at first, but I'll try to stay on top of that...

Some things to look for:

-the new "photos" section--not totally finished yet, more to come.
-a couple of new reviews I've been holding back.
-an expanded links section.

If you come across any problems, please feel free to let me know. Thanks!

jesus was a liberal.

My mom is here for a visit. She came on Thursday, my second day working at Hallmark. So far, she's been sorting through a lot of my grandparents' things with my uncle. Tonight, she got a break and John and I took her to the El Capitan Theater to see The Incredibles. It was really nice. John had never been to the Chinese theater before, so we walked around and looked at the foot- and handprints.

Virtually unrelated to anything else: my husband's fist is bigger than John Wayne's.

A couple of weeks ago, John, sort of jokingly, said he was glad the movie was coming out after the election...so we could cheer ourselves up. And I didn't think much about it. But, really, I think that's sort of what we did.

The election. I wasn't even sure I wanted to write about it. What new thing could I possibly add to the entire universe of footage, data, and mindless internet babble about our country's so-called decision? Probably nothing.

I'm not sure I believe in signs. But I do know that after the attacks of 9/11/01, John and I made much more serious efforts to nurture our long-distance friendship. As a direct result, we're married now. The point of my bringing this up is not to draw any weird, grandiose connections between our worst national tradgedy and the importance of my own romantic well-being. My point is that bad things can be used for good purposes, after the fact.

On November 2 and 3, John and I recieved more phone calls from different people than we've received in any two-day span since we got married. And our friends are very sad.

When headlines like this one catch my attention, I'm reminded more and more how my country and my faith are supposedly merging into one, rather ignorant, bohemoth.

But that is not my faith. And furthermore, that is not my country, either.

This church study group we've been going to is great in a lot of ways. The people are friendly and knowlegdeable. There's a feeling of community involved. Normally, a really warm-and-fuzzy experience.

Today, though, I was pretty much constantly uncomfortable.

I'm not a good evangelist. And it's not because I'm ashamed of Jesus or anything... It's because the more Christianity is shoved down people's throats, the less responsive they are and the less they like Christians in general. I know because other Christians drive me absolutely crazy sometimes.

I think one of the reasons our society keeps getting into these black and white, or rather blue and red, debates is that fundamental Christians are gaining more and more power. And I'm not say fundamental Christians are fundamentally bad people. They're not. They're good people who read the Bible as a literal instruction manual. Not only do they expect following it to yield certain results, they also carry in their minds the idea that Satan is with them all the time.

That's the EXACT situation that led to the Salem witch trials.

Living with the idea that two entities are constantly surrounding you, watching your every move and keeping a tally, would not only be terrifying, but it would also give a person a way out: your enemies, not being of God, must be of Satan, and, therefore, are expendable. We've passed the point of arguing the concept that "an eye for an eye" was on longer valid when Jesus instructed his followers to forgive and "turn the other cheek," and come to that point in which we strike out the eye of "the other" simply so we feel like ours are better protected.

And I don't feel comfortable praying that someone, who I know to have already been told fully about the gospel and who still doesn't accept it, will suddenly decide to come to Jesus. I have issues praying for people as though there's something about them, as a person, that needs "fixing."

My liberal friends, they're sad. But they're getting stronger. And most of them are not Christians. By. Choice. Not because someone merely neglected to tell them about God.

And maybe we wouldn't be sad if we could all wrap up in the cozy idea that God is backing the current administration. But I know God. And I'm not only not tempted to accept that way of thinking, but I wouldn't have accepted it no matter who won.

Both sides pray before every game, every deal, and every war. The only way we can all win is to stop fighting each other. But no one likes saying things like that. They sound too easy, too juvenile. Too true.

In the mean time, I'm going to try and look for the good that will somehow be extracted from this disaster of an election.

trick or treat.

We ran out of candy at 6:30, so we bought more at the store down the street. We ran out again around 7:30. A little kid dressed like Stitch took a fist full of each of the two kinds of erasers we had out...which was funny. I wore black eyeshadow and red lipstick. John wore his suit, a mascara goatee, and little horns on his forehead. He told a clerk at the Super A, where he bought our second batch of candy, that he was supposed to be a Republican. Truly...this is a dark day.

Just kidding.

Happy Halloween!