rest

Lately, I haven't felt like picking up the camera or blogging much, other than snippets or lists. I love lists. But a lack of narrative blogging is not great for a writer. I used to blog in such a way that it was good writing practice. Now, not so much.

This doesn't mean that I've given up on my blog. I tend to my sidebar links faithfully, just so you know. And I have been writing - in my pretty duck egg blue & red bird journal. Some of these handwritten thoughts are for a percolating blog entry, in fact. As for photographs, you must check out Shorpy. I insist. It's a fascinating vintage photo archive.

I've been reading: Exodus, Tinkers, The Death of Adam, Books & Culture, and Wunderkammer. I've got my eye on Wunderkammer, such quiet beauty. I mean to submit an essay there. And Marilynne Robinson - we share a birthday, why not a brain? I wish.

I've been watching. Apparently, I was blind to neighborhood bird life last spring. We've seen several Red-winged Blackbirds while walking around the trail this year. Like, we stop dead in our tracks and say, "Wow, that bird is amazing!" You'd think we've never seen a bird before, but God creates the most beautiful, surprising things. I saw a Blue Jay in our yard yesterday, and today, I saw a bird with a brown body and navy blue head and neck, a color combination I particularly liked. I pulled out my laminated Houston bird guide, but the mystery avifauna wasn't there, unless it was a female Common Grackle. I'm not sure, though. Grackles are Johnny's favorite birds and he didn't seem convinced. I did further research on All About Birds, and as I played the bird's sound, Milo ceased from his typical morning-nutcase activity and went to look out the window for the bird. It was really cute and funny to see him spring into hunter-action, so I repeated the Grackle's sound a few times until he gave up in confusion. Yes, it remained funny.

I've also been watching Friday Night Lights on Hulu. Major addiction. I average 3-4 episodes in a row. But I can't help it - such a show is in my blood. My Dad is from West Texas and he's a football coach (among other sports), so that stressful/exciting vibe on game day is hard for me to ignore. Also, Coach Taylor and his family are good folks. Coach T. reminds me a lot of my Dad.

Speaking of, my Dad will be in town tomorrow for a track meet. It looks like we'll get to meet him for dinner, and hug his neck. I'm also meeting my pastor for lunch beforehand, for Tex-Mex food and encouragement. This is remarkable for two reasons. One, fajitas and guacamole are staples in my diet. Two, Holy Trinity is the first Church I've attended where I really know the people, and I know my pastor personally. I'm not here to slam mega-Churches, but I've discovered that I prefer small-to-medium sized Church families, family being the key word.

OH, and we're going to the Over the Rhine show with good friends on Friday night, stopping by Antidote on the way. I can't wait.

I've been baking - a batch of cookies for the kind ladies at the Physician's Preference store. I cannot tell you how helpful every single person is at the Hotze clinic. If you gotta be sickly, it's nice to be treated so well. I believe our country's medical practice needs to follow their rehumanizing lead.

As for listening, Pandora has been my friend - J.S. Bach and Wilco radio, especially. I think I tuned in to Wilco radio all day yesterday. It induced a little dancing from the reserved likes of me, so you know it's good.

Lastly, Béla Fleck's Throw Down Your Heart documentary trailer is worth your time. I was all set to buy tickets - it's screening at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston - but I'll be at the Trinity Arts Conference in Dallas that very same weekend in June. I'm excited about the conference - Gregory Wolfe and Jeffrey Overstreet will be speaking - but I really wish these two cool events didn't overlap. I'm consoled by the fact that a DVD of Throw Down Your Heart will be released in October, and the soundtrack is available now. We Simmonses love African music.

Today, it's all about resting for my healing soul. A little laundry, but mostly reclining, reading, Bedtime tea (my current nightcap), and LOST.

my husband rules friday

While trimming the hedges this morning, Johnny picked a few flowers to sit on my desk. The little things go a long way with me. Like, scrambled eggs, fresh avocado, and yerba mate tea in a happy mug for breakfast, along with The Writer's Almanac.

All of this makes for a good-mood-Jenni, and hopefully for great writing.

P.S. - My husband is also cleaning as I write since our friend, Stu, is sleeping over tonight. Seriously, I do not deserve Johnny.

still life thursday

In the midst of Curator article research - looking up Hirschl & Adler Modern which has hosted exhibitions of Jacob Collins's work - this painting by John Morra actually took my breath away:

[Breakfast, 2008. Oil on canvas, 14 7/8 x 20 7/8 in.]

Morra is a contemporary American realist; Collins is a classical realist. I'm finding that I'm a big fan of realism, and still lifes, in general. Though Jacob Collins is super inspiring, my article is not coming along easily at all. I feel more like a wrestler than a writer today. I'm nursing mugs of Think O2 tea - I need all the help I can get. I'm tempted to toss in the towel and sulk on the couch with the May/June issue of Books & Culture. But there are a few hours left until Grey's Anatomy, so I'll try to muster up some maturity and hang in there, even if my sentences are bare boned and "shitty," as Anne Lamott said. It's my blog and I'll whine if I want to...

another goethe-monday

I set up camp in my writing room today. I need a table of some sort to place by my desk, to spread out papers, notes, and things. I found an old bookshelf in the future baby nursery right across the hall. It's perfect for now: three shelves to help organize my brain.

This is what I call "deadline week" - I have a Curator article due on Friday. Today, I'm skimming articles on Jacob Collins, looking over my interview with the painter, taking notes, and writing an outline. I'll start pulling words outta my head in the morning. Along with preparation, I thought it wise to heed Goethe's inspirational advice once again.

Two little songs: "Guardian" by Sandra McCracken, and "Ellis County" by Buddy & Julie Miller.

A good poem: "Disgraceland" by Mary Karr.

Two fine pictures:

[the April page of Nikki McClure's 2009 wall calendar hanging above my desk]

[Milk Chocolate II by Jacob Collins. Oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches. 2007.]

A few reasonable words: A few Sundays ago, my pastor said that our most reasonable words are of worship. Knowing my lingo quick to worry, complain, and/or snap, I couldn't agree more. Johnny and I prayed through an Eastertide liturgy including the song of Moses and Psalm 1, for sure better than anything else I might utter today.

If Goethe were alive, I'd also recommend a cup of tea and a walk around his 'hood. Before we walk in just a bit, I'm sipping a yerba mate and rooibos blend with a splash of almond milk. Happy Monday, y'all. It's gonna be a busy, creative week. I just know it.

five senses tuesday

[we need a car wash ASAP...]

See.
-Cows, horses, donkeys, and goats grazing on green countryside, and the beauty that is a Texas sky.
-Field after field of bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes, and yellow primroses.
-The disturbing phrase, "Haulin' Liquid Chicken" on the side of a refrigerated truck.
-An Aggie asleep at Sweet Eugene's in an old leather armchair, study papers stacked on his chest.
-My cute drummer reading a book on a yellow velvet couch.

Hear.
-An interview with Rev. Vito Aiuto of The Welcome Wagon on Relevant magazine's podcast.
-Impressively bad music playing overhead in Fuddrucker's.
-Birdsong as we walked across the parking lot to the coffee shop.
-Some dude talking on his cell phone for a long time, and loudly, about centrifuge or chemistry or something.
-My interview with Jacob Collins in the earbuds.

Taste.
-A yummy grilled chicken-bacon-egg-almond-tomato salad.
-Shh... I smuggled in my favorite cookies since I can't eat coffee shop treats.
-But I did purchase two large mugs of Sweet Eugene's dark roast.
-And a cup of chamomile tea to-go.
-Raw cashews, the snack I most often stash in my purse.

Smell.
-That amazing outdoors scent as we snapped a photo of bluebonnets.
-Fuddrucker's bread - almost too much for me to bear.
-And French fries.
-The unmistakable aroma of a coffee shop.
-A sample of rooibos cinnamon apple, and a refill of rooibos almond in a box by our back door.

Feel.*
-With my hair in a ponytail, my youthful face, and tired eyes, I bet I could pass for a weary collegiate typing away on her laptop.
-Frustrated with the slow wi-fi while proofreading this Friday's Curator articles, I moved to another table to plug in. Then things sped up, hallelujah.
-Johnny and I should have a work-date at a different coffee shop every week. Houston's own Antidote next Tuesday, perhaps?
-I had an epiphany: offer paper to-go cups of coffee or tea to Johnny's drum students! An extra perk for the drive home.
-I'm dreading my jury summons tomorrow.

* - I suppose "Feel" should be textures or something, but don't internal feelings count, too?

it's a day early, but...

[click this icon to see it bigger. I insist - it's amazing.]

...happy Easter! We're celebrating tomorrow at Church, of course. My husband tells me we'll be singing one of my favorite hymns, "Deck Thyself, My Soul, with Gladness," during Communion. A guy will be baptized, too. I can't think of a better day to be baptized, can you? There's no way I'll get through the service without a little mascara-ruin. We're praying that the forecast for rain is wrong - how would the cute kids at Church hunt Easter eggs?? Afterward, we'll feast on Greek food at Yia Yia Mary's. I'm baking my favorite cookies as well; they're pretty much a staple in my diet now.

Praise the Lord, Jesus:

"And He Who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.' Also He said, 'Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.'"
[Revelation 21:5]

the small things

[art by Julie Morstad. The image is courtesy of small magazine - click to see it bigger.]

I have an article up on The Curator today: "The Small Things."

More blessings to y'all on this Good Friday.

a teapot still life

[Blue Teapot. 2000, Oil on panel, 6" x 10" (15 x 25cm). By Anthony J. Ryder.]

In addition to the Last Supper icon in my previous entry for today, the above painting caught my eye for obvious tea-loving and art-appreciative aspects of my personality. Just thought I'd share the beauty.

Can you tell I'm having a bit of trouble juggling blog-writing with my other writing? Never fear (as if you would) - I'm still pondering a more thoughtful blog entry soonish. Plus, I'll get the hang of increasing busy-ness as my body heals. It's just an adjustment period, that's all. Life is full of those.

Blessings to y'all on Maundy Thursday.

maundy thursday

Though I love Maundy Thursday during Holy Week, I spaced out this morning while swallowing vitamins and asked Johnny, "What does 'Maundy' mean again?" (this was pre-coffee...) He gave an eloquent answer much like this one from George Grant's blog:

"The term 'Maundy' is a shortened version of the Latin term 'Mandatum' or mandate--a word universally associated in the early church with Christ’s command that His disciples should love one another (John 13:34). Very early on in the first and second centuries there were special services on the Mount of Olives outside Jerusalem during which the Christians would sing Psalms and chant litanies of repentance, hear the teaching of the Word, reconcile with one another, covenant to serve the body, and then receive communion. May we hear and heed the call to this great 'Mandatum' today."

Tonight, we'll attend a Maundy Thursday service at our Church. I love that we observe this day, but only Johnny is allowed to wash my feet. We have an agreement, and really, it's a beautiful thing to wash my husband's feet.

Oh, and Johnny wrote some brilliant thoughts about the Revelation over on his blog. How I married such a smart one, I'll never know.

a beginner's manual to poetry

I read a lot of poetry, but I am no expert. Not even close. As a writer, I just love the sheer beauty of poetry. When I'm depleted of words and phrases, a poem or two fills me back up. So, in the spirit of April - National Poetry Month - here's some encouragement to simply enjoy poems:

How to Read a Poem: Beginner's Manual
by Pamela Spiro Wagner

First, forget everything you have learned,
that poetry is difficult,
that it cannot be appreciated by the likes of you,
with your high school equivalency diploma,
your steel-tipped boots,
or your white-collar misunderstandings.

Do not assume meanings hidden from you:
the best poems mean what they say and say it.

To read poetry requires only courage
enough to leap from the edge
and trust.

Treat a poem like dirt,
humus rich and heavy from the garden.
Later it will become the fat tomatoes
and golden squash piled high upon your kitchen table.

Poetry demands surrender,
language saying what is true,
doing holy things to the ordinary.

Read just one poem a day.
Someday a book of poems may open in your hands
like a daffodil offering its cup
to the sun.

When you can name five poets
without including Bob Dylan,
when you exceed your quota
and don't even notice,
close this manual.

tuesday doings

I'm watching the sprinkler glitter diamonds over the backyard.

The wind chime is singing a hymn.

Cats do live here. They sometimes don't know what to make of my sock monkey slippers. And Milo woke us today by stomping over our covered, cozy bodies, playing with a plastic bottle cap.



After Church on Sunday, I carried home two palm fronds. We started the liturgy outside and walked indoors waving the palms, singing a hymn, and placed the greens near the steps to the altar. After Holy Week, I'll try to weave the palms into crosses. Wish me luck.

I moved up another Arrested Development disc and Slumdog Millionaire in our Netflix queue.

I trimmed my fingernails to finally practice guitar chords (again). By the way, I started writing my first song of all things. A bit of melody and lyrics came to me last week. Very odd. Johnny likes the melody, so we're gonna work on it together. He's the musician in the family, after all.

We're excited that Rescue Me airs again tonight, though we'll have to resume washing our ears out with soap.

Mornings are one of the hardest times for my healing body to get with the program. I know this is true for many of you, too, but yeast toxins don't help. Johnny very often whips up breakfast and today, God love him, he selected a dish from Indian Recipes Under 30 Minutes on a whim:

Akoori (Indian scrambled eggs)

6 eggs
3 tbsp. coconut oil (or ghee)
2 large onions chopped
1/2 tsp. cumin
3 green chillies, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1/2 tsp. turmeric powder
Sea salt to taste
1 large tomato, chopped
2 tbsp. green coriander (cilantro), chopped

1. Heat the coconut oil in a wok; add onions and sauté until golden brown. Add the cumin, green chillies, garlic, turmeric, and sea salt. Sauté for 1-2 minutes.
2. Add tomato and sauté for another minute.
3. Lightly beat the eggs and add to the above mixture. Mix thoroughly and cook for 2-3 minutes.
4. Garnish with green coriander and serve immediately on toast (no toast for me, but I didn't miss it).

I could kick myself for not taking a photo - our delicious meal was a lovely shade of spring-yellow. I brewed coffee beforehand, but next time we eat akoori, chai would be perfect. I received a fragrant bag of Vermont chai from a blog-friend, in fact. Would y'all please share your stovetop chai recipes? Do you think coconut or almond milk would work?

Now I'm happily on dishes duty + laundry (aided by Cat Stevens), proofreading, transcribing, reading, and walking in this surprisingly cool Houston weather. It's a busy, sun-filled day.

what's wrong with this picture?

Harley is normally the more well-behaved cat. But I watched in amazement as he carefully crawled behind those books in the living room, right in front of my face. I pray to God that Milo wasn't watching because he loves to do everything his big brother does. However, Harley pretending to be a book made me laugh, so Johnny snapped a quick photo for y'all to see.

Now I'm off to the dentist for a teeth-cleaning. I loathe dental appointments for any reason, but it'll be nice to have clean teeth. Besides, the hygienist is a calm, patient woman with a stained glass window in the ceiling pretty tree right outside of her room, and my dentist is a kind man. Johnny's treating me to a bookstore afterward for a cup of tea while browsing. As I told a friend last night, I'm 34 years old and I still need rewards for medical checkups.

* Update - no dental trauma whatsoever, praise be to God! We celebrated at Phoenicia Deli; I had chicken shawarma and hummus (there's leftover shawarma to put on salad greens tonight). Then on to Whole Foods for a few groceries, including a blood orange. Then the bookstore. I sipped Tazo Zen green tea and jotted down a book title which sounds promising: The Well and the Mine by Gin Phillips. It's bad that I consider Dancing with the Stars to be the end of a very good day, huh?