Blue Penumbra

It's a Blue Monday in the blog, though actually gray, without the promised and needed rain. I've got a poem called "Blue Penumbra" in the new issue of Blue Fifth Review, which has a fantastic cover photo of a highway yearning toward a glorious blue sky. It's a great issue, and the prose poem "And," by Carol Reid, really got to me as I'd just heard an interview on NPR about the status of AIDS treatment and because medical marijuana (hey, hey, like the MONKEES) might be coming to our town...

I've just finished reading The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green (fellow Kenyon College alum!), for book group. It's my daughter's book, a Christmas present from Grandma, and she read it right before me, wanting to read the book before seeing the movie. We both like the humor in it, and my daughter is annoyed that the movie apparently leaves out some of the tough and annoying reality about cancer treatment that the book leaves in. (But I do see the oxygen tank cannula in the movie poster, so that's a good sign.) I also, of course, heard a good interview with John Green on NPR! And I sort of want these shoes.

Since every day is a Random Coinciday, I must note the reference to language difference and, specifically, the Dutch, in this book, on p. 209, where the narrator tells us the Dutch call lattes "wrong coffee" because they have "more milk than coffee." In The Language Archive, the play I'm directing, the Dutch are pertinent, as are different ways of saying things. But now I can't help but hear Michael Caine, as Nigel Powers in Goldmember (an Austin Powers film), saying, "There are only two things I can't stand in this world. People who are intolerant of other people's cultures...and the Dutch."

Invented Languages

I've just read a delightful book, In the Land of Invented Languages, by Arika Okrent. I read it as research, but it turned out to be great fun; she's a linguist with a clear style and a wonderful sense of humor, and she studied Klingon, among other invented languages. I learned more about L.L. Zamenhof, the inventor of Esperanto, and the burgeoning of universal languages in his time, and I learned how Hebrew, though not an invented language, took on some characteristics of one (new vocabulary, particular to its regions of use) as an ancient language resurrected 1000 years later!

I also learned that James Cooke Brown, the inventor of Loglan, a "logical language," lived in Gainesville, Florida, when I did, as a little girl, and was, evidently, a colleague of my father's at the University of Florida.

Brown also invented the game Careers, the antithesis of Monopoly, about finding happiness and a sense of satisfaction, not just money, in one's work. Who was it who recently told me about loving the game Careers? Who? Who?

Zamenhof was an eye doctor, and I am off to get an eye exam, making this a Random Coinciday in the blog. As well as a Slattern Day as, thus far, I am not cleaning my house.

Flower Communion

Today, the first two morning glories opened on the back fence. I saw the buds yesterday while weeding and tearing off the nightshade and its berries. I do spend time communing with the flowers but until today I did not know of the Flower Communion, an actual service also known as the Flower Celebration, of the Unitarian Church.

Today my church revived a recent local tradition of communal (shared) service with the Unitarians.

Each of us brought a flower to church, placed it in waiting vases, and plucked a random flower (not chosen, really, and not our own) from the vases during communion. (We also had grapes and yogurt-covered pretzels.) I learned about Norbert Capek, founder of the Unitarian Church in Czechoslovakia, and creator of the flower service. Capek died during World War II, at Dachau.

It's a Random Coinciday in the blog, because I was just telling the cast of The Language Archive, by Julia Cho, about H.E. Jacob, who also spent time in Dachau, as well as Buchenwald, but who survived to write Six Thousand Years of Bread, which really is a history of bread. Bread is an important part of the play, and Cho has used a quotation from Jacob's book as the epigraph to her play:

"'Why should I take up such a burden?' I thought to myself. 'Who would ever finish gathering so much material?' But then I did take up the burden. And I gathered--without finishing. And now, in the midst of the gathering, I begin the tale."

I love it when stuff in my life falls together like this.

Meanwhile, six thousand crickets have been born in my back yard, with nary a praying mantis in sight to eat them. Crickets are good luck, especially when found in the house. I imagine some will find their way inside. But not all six thousand. Jiminy Crickets! That's a lot of crickets. Maybe ten thousand. Maybe more. Plenty of good luck to go around.

Surprised Beyond Lilies

Well, it's Slattern Day in the blog, and, while I'm still as much as a slattern as ever in my house, I am tidy in my mind. And, though loving a little downtime, no slouch. I took an 8-mile bike ride this morning, past a lovely row of a neighbor's surprise lilies, those lovely, ghostly pale mauve lilies on tall stems, no foliage, and then on to the Farmer's Market. (Thanks for the ride, Dave Hirst!)

A bad surprise: yesterday my son tumbled over his handlebars (avoiding a car) on his daily commute to work (in Chicago), and banged his elbow. Today he woke up with more aches and pains. But nothing is broken, and the doctor says he should feel better in a few days. Good thing! It's the elbow on his drawing arm, and he's an industrial designer!

While I was unplugged, the yard and garden thrived despite a lack of rain, and Australia happened in the flower bed next to the toolshed. That is, lantana writ itself large in the corner by the downspout and the shed wall. Surviving beside it: echinacea, gloriosa daisies, and poinsettia. Oh, August, I love you.

Two nice literary surprises:

1. One of our EIL nominees has been accepted for New Poetry from the Midwest: "Child Sobbing at the Library" by Matthew Murrey.

2. New EIL book review by Seana Graham: Line of Fire: Diary of an Unknown Soldier--August, September 1914 (re: centenary of the beginning of World War I).

Must go weed. In my untidy back yard.

I Was Unplugged

Sometimes when I go away to Michigan with my family wamily for a week, I can't remember my blog password when I get back. I kept my phone charged because I had to contact people at week's end, but, in the meantime, nobody called me! When I got home, nobody had called me (except the appointment desk to reschedule a fasting blood test later in August; it had already been rescheduled once, and I rescheduled it for the day on which it had originally been scheduled. Loop-de-loop. I hope all the wine has worn off by then.) I think this means I live a fairly unplugged life much of the time. Or nobody likes me.

We had a lovely time in Michigan! Good company, good fun, good food, good wine. That's me, my mom, my sister, and my niece. Why does my mom look blurry? Why is the bust of a woman wearing Mardi Gras beads looking down her nose at us?

At week's end, I attended an annual champagne-drinking girls sleepover, while the hubby and kids visited the Garfield Conservatory (wow!) and played beach volleyball with friends.

It was also a thrill to read poems at Woman Made Gallery on Sunday afternoon, with a fabulous bunch of poets. I got to meet Donna Vorreyer, a poet I admire, and other fine poets who were also reading or in the lively, lovely audience. It was grand to meet several people I'd only met online. "You're so real," I said to Donna, who had/has a couple readings of her own in Chicago this month, too. Wish I could attend.

I came home to 2 rejections, a poetry award nomination, and poems to proofread for September publication. And lots of intense theatre work, preparing for the play I will direct this month for September performances, The Language Archive, by Julia Cho.

Part of my "unplugged" time was spent in preparation, perusing the play for the umpteenth time, making more notes, and re-reading The Art of Directing, by John W. Kirk, the guy in this picture, and picking the brain of my dear director sister, on the right.