Baino!

I can't do her justice, but I hope her spirit, courage and hope come shining through:
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Your first observation is the fuck and the wit
Highlighted boldly, a quite perfect fit
For this woman who waxes and cleverly wanes
About family and futures and gentlemanly manes.
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Not! Australian by birth,
Open by choice
She welcomes outrageous
In her tolerant voice.
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Is her accent as cool as one might conclude?
I imagine she yells, but stops cold at rude.
She swears and complains and cynically chats
Yet a vulnerable kindness covers all that.
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A writer she is, with a widely world view--
A pudgy white chick who knows what to do.
She polishes tales of corruption and rabbits,
About ClareBear and Dummerboy and various habits.
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She’s Baino the brave
And she’s plotting her trip:
A stop in New England
Then Houston and zip
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To the west coast and back
Cross the sea to the Royds.
Whatever she lacks
She’s too real to avoid.
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A Shirley Bassey style
And a backside with plunge
She'll travel long miles
Through beauty and grunge.
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She fashions herself
With a steady true hand
And welcomes you warmly
Into Ms. Baino-land!

And My 20,000 Visitor is....

BAINO
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BAINO
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baino
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BAINO

.baino
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How fitting that the irreverent, intriguing, irresistible and down under Baino is my 20,000 visitor. She is thereby entitled to an original kj poem of her choice. The subject/theme can be anything her heart desires, expect, Baino, please don't ask me to enter the medical or non-medical world of bodily functions. I'm simply too genteel for that.
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Shall I rhyme? Or not?
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Include favorite words?
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Write about favorite people?
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Or philosophize?
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Or politicize?
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Serious or silly?
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I await instruction. It's up to Baino....

P.S. Studio Lolo, you made a valiant effort. :)

19,922

That's how many visitors I've had since I started my blog.
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If you happen to be visitor # 20,000 I will write a poem of your choice for you. Any theme or topic you want
with the exception of bodily fluids.
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I'll keep you posted.

A Night Away

Just one night. Not much to pack, an hour or so west, dinner reservations, and no chores.
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JB and I live in Western Massachusetts, but Stockbridge is western Western Massachusetts. Nestled in Berkshires, mountain tops everywhere, it is serenely beautiful. Although the Red Lion Inn is quite famous, we first stumbled across it last spring. Last weekend we made good on our plan to stay there overnight.

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Here's the background on the Red Lion Inn:
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Some time around 1773, Anna and Silas Bingham established a general store in Stockbridge on the road that connected Boston to Albany, which soon evolved as a stagecoach stop, tavern and Inn, under the sign of the red lion. Travel at the time was difficult and uncomfortable, and the Bingham's little tavern quickly became a popular and welcome rest stop for bruised and battered travelers.

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The Red Lion Inn also became the center of village life, where people could gather, exchange pleasantries, discuss the issues of the day and relax at the end of the day. In the winter of 1786, Daniel Shays led a group of more than 100 local farmers and citizens in protest to burdensome post-war taxation. Stockbridge was chosen as its headquarters for what became known as "Shays Rebellion," and sentinels stood on guard and patrolled the streets. The Red Lion Inn's participation in these early events in the birth of the United States has earned it a place in the history books.
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So welcome to Stockbridge, Massachusetts:

"You can get anything you want...at Alice's Restaurant." Do you know the tune?

Staying at the Red Lion Inn is stepping into history.

This is the fourth floor hallway where JB and I had a no frills room.

And ended the night with a great meal--me tilapia with a red pepper sauce and JB salmon with a green sauce I only know tasted great.

Not even twelve hours later, we checked out and headed for a day of back roads and small shops.

I returned home relaxed and care-free.

Totally worth the price of admission...

People I Know: "H"

I was a Consultant where she worked for a couple of years. On my last day, she left a small stained glass jewelry box she had made for me and a card on my desk, just minutes before I headed out the door. The card said “I’d like us to be friends.” That was seven or eight years ago.

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We met again quite unexpectedly two years later at a conference in Florida. She was with her best friend and I was with JB. The four of us had a grand time sunning and funning through the soft sand and warm nights.

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We’re separated by a hundred miles and too little time. Still, “H” manages to sneak away every six months or so and for a couple of days we catch up and wind down. Other times we bring our families together, often in Provincetown, where her thirteen year old son and I rise early and along with our cameras watch the sun rise too.

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She arrived last weekend with a bottle of wine and box of tea. It was on a hard day when I had just left a three year old little girl and her two year old brother. They had not seen their mother since they were taken from her two weeks ago for neglect, and they found comfort in my familiar voice and face. They held on to me and sobbed when I had to leave them. I won’t forget the sound of their sadness any time soon.

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I was telling “H” about this and we got to talking about how few people anyone can really count on in life.

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“How many for you?” I asked her.

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"Not many at all,” She paused, “well, you,” she said. “I consider you someone I can count on,” Then she added, “But that wouldn’t be easy for me to do.”

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“Me either,” I replied.

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We smiled at each other. “You wouldn’t judge me, would you? I’d need to be sure of that,” she said.

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“No, never,” I told her. “And I would need to be sure that you can keep a secret.”

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“Definitely,” she said.

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We both nodded. We smiled again.

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Two friends established two rules:
--no judging
--no telling

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And in that simple exchange, our confirmation and communication was sealed.

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“We should try to see each other more often,” she said.

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“Two times a year for sure,” I replied. “And three would be super.”

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The next day I asked her, “Could I come for Thanksgiving dinner if I had no where else to go?”

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“Of course,” she said.

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Later, I cooked spaghetti and she had four helpings. I made note of that, because it reminded me there's an often unspoken third rule in friendship: notice the little things. That is something I don't want to forget.

Seven Things

The wonderful and ever-fascinating Miladysa has tagged me for the following meme:
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Share 7 facts about yourself - some random, some weird.
Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs.
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Seven things about me:
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1. I can't keep my clothes neat and folded. I don't know why.
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2. On a related note, I hate hangers. They attack me. Same with vacuum cleaners.
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3. I welcome the chance to be kind.
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4. But I strongly dislike being taken advantage of.
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5. I lived in Germany for two years without heat or hot water. My then husband and I had a small stove in the living room and a water tank in the bathroom and we would have to build coal fires to get any warmth at all. I would lie in bed at night and look at my chattering breath in the darkness.
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6. I was arrested at age 13 for breaking and entering. My father embarrassed me at the police station by asking if I could pick up leaves at City Hall for punishment.
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7. I didn't have a date for my Senior Prom in high school and it just about killed me.
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I'm not tagging anyone because this week I prefer voluntary participation. Volunteers: take your places please...

Saturday Lite

A woman and a baby were in the doctor's examining room, waiting for the doctor to come in.

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The doctor arrived, examined the baby, checked his weight and found it somewhat below normal.
The doctor asked if the baby was breast fed or bottle fed.

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"Breast fed," the woman replied.

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"Well, strip down to your waist," the doctor asked. She did. He pressed, kneaded, rolled, cupped,
and pinched both breasts in a detailed, rigorously thorough examination.

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Motioning for her to get dressed he said, "No wonder this baby is under weight! You don't have any milk."

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"I know," she said, "I'm his grandmother, but I'm glad I came."

An (Amazing) Update on Publishing a Book

I've been writing for a few years now. Several years ago I began by holing up in Provincetown for most of a summer, free of my paid job and mostly in the company of my dog. Every morning she and I would walk one block to the bay and stroll along the sand and seaweed. I was working on a book on happiness then--who is, who isn't, and why--and I was falling into one day after another writing, reading, walking and dreaming. It was a luxury I had never had before.

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I found an agent for the happiness book, but a half dozen revisions of the book proposal later, I had to face that the subject was too dear to me to shop around without more experience. The agent wanted the book to be lighter--a kind of Loretta LaRoche "Ten Easy Steps"-- and that was not what I wanted.

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I've spent the last two years writing often. This blog has been a total joy. I wrote a first draft novel through National Novel Writing Month, polished up the bones of a career book called "Good Work if You Can Get It," wrote dozens of poems inspired and supported by deep abiding love, finished a couple of short stories, and today--now--am preparing to publish and release my first novel: the story of Alex and Lily, titled "The Light Stays On."

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It was naive and gutsy for me to decide to self publish. I just decided to take matters into my own hands. I knew that if I waited for a publisher to pick me up, it would take another 1-2 years for the book to hit the stands.

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So I've started an entity called Chihuahua Press. That wasn't hard. I thought up a name, arranged for a separate bank account, and ordered a IBSN number--required for every book publication in every continent. I asked a few special people for endorsements, gratefully accepted feedback and suggestions, arranged for the page layout and cover design, and just this week--selected the printer and distributor. I've finished the budget: I will be investing $ 2000 of my own $$$ with the hope that I will break even within 3-6 months. I've had to learn how the publishing industry works--its margins and profits and markups and discounts. I've had to learn how one book travels from the printer to the seller to the buyer.

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In less than a month, the book will be released--probably just after Thanksgiving. If all goes well, it will be available on-line through Amazon and Barnes & Noble,and can be ordered through any bookstore (or through me). To get it on the shelves of local bookstores and into libraries, I'm developing a marketing plan that includes public book readings, book signings, email blasts, a five city mini-tour, media interviews, canvassing of independent bookstores and specialty groups, contacting libraries, and a few dozen other steps.

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I'll be sending copies to book reviewers and to the actress Jody Foster, who I think would play a great Lily in a movie version of "The Light Stays On."

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Mostly, I'll be investing the time I have outside of my paid work to promote this, my first novel, as joyfully and fully as I can. And, like Lily, I'll be looking upward saying thank you, thank you, thank you.

MANohMANohMAN!

Indescribable relief. Unbridled hope. Limitless pride.

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That's how I feel this morning after watching the historic election of Barak Obama as President of these United States. Four years ago, when the uncurious and dogmatic George W. Bush won a second term, he smirking at the victory podium and saying, "Americans gave me political capital, and I intend to spend it,", I felt thoroughly confused and embarrassed and shocked and despondent. I have shrunk with shame that he represented my country and my neighbors.

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Today I have watched the page turn with unprecedented speed. I don't expect miracles, but my faith in karmic redistribution has been restored.

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I know there is strong Republican-Conservative concern, even anger, that President Obama and a Democratic congress will prove far too liberal. As a moderate liberal myself, I understand that concern. I support Welfare-to-Work. I'm in favor of fewer abortions and more alternatives. I oppose deficit spending. I know immigration has to be worked out in some way fair to the border states like Texas that bear the burdens.

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And yet, this election is about so much more. Here's what conservative columnist Jeff Jacoby said in this morning's Boston Globe:

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A turn in the wilderness will do Republicans good. During the GOP's years in power, the onetime party of fiscal sobriety and limited government turned into a gang of reckless spenders and government aggrandizers. Perhaps a few years in exile will lead Republicans back to their conservative, Reaganite roots.

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But the most lustrous silver lining of all is the the racial one. As a politician and policymaker, Obama distresses me; his extreme liberalism is not what the nation needs. But as a symbol--a son of Africa poised to lead a majority-white nation that once enslaved Africans and treated their descendants with great cruelty--Obama's rise makes me proud of my country. The anthem of the Civil Rights Movement was "We Shall Overcome." Impossible as it might have seemed scant decades ago, we have.

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Myself--I offer two remaining words on this remarkable morning: AMEN and YIPEE!

Alphabet Soup

Ever since I went to the poetry manuscript weekend almost a year ago, where I learned my poetry was, shall we say, "unfinished," and that rhyming was out of fashion, I haven't written poems the way I used to. Okay, there are probably other factors too, but in any case, here's a re-visited poem I thought then and still think is moderately clever. You may or may not agree:

Can’t Do

Could you?
I’m at the beginning:
Accept, Accelerate, Acquiesce,
and sprinting to the L’s,
Long, Loosen, Lighten up,
Onto to the T’s:
Trust, Turn in, Truncate,
Then to the final stop:
Zero. Zilch. Zenith.
I am plucking words,
Seeking sounds,
And mixing colors
To explain why oh why
You are there
And I am here
And the in-between
Is alphabetically and phonetically speaking
All Wrong.

Mr. Ryan Arrested

Mr. Ryan, age twenty one months and reportedly unemployed, was observed driving erratically yesterday morning in front of his home. He was charged with driving to endanger and resisting arrest. When approached, he immediately abandoned his Elmo pushcart and attempted to flee the scene of the crime, laughing and running faster and faster until he was forced to stop at the front door of his house. He was arrested while screaming "Mommy! Daddy!" and additionally charged with disturbing the peace.

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Mr. Ryan was escorted to the local police station and placed in a holding playpen until his parents arrived. He pleaded 'not guilty' to all charges, indicating that the police officer failed to understand the priorities of a small child. He was released on bail and is scheduled to appear before Judge Cookie Monster on November 15th. If found guilty, Mr. Ryan may face sentencing of up to one week without his favorite cookies.