Tuesday, August 17, 2010

oh my we hate to see summer's end

Regis pointed out this poem on the Writer's Almanac the other day.

Last Meal

by Bill Holm

On death row you celebrate your last night
with your last dinner, your choice, your last craving
to make at least your stomach happy before it stops
craving anything at all. Many choose
simple food: a hamburger, mac and cheese, ice cream.
What might it be for you, my friend?
Duckling Rouenaisse? A roast of unborn lamb?
Washed down with Veuve Cliquot '59 and old Armagnac?
And how do you know, my friend, that you are not
eating your last meal at this very table now?
Chew slowly. Make sure you take in all the body and the blood.

Now he says, "Chew slowly, my friend. It could be your last meal".

The last line is that of my husband and not Bill Holm.

We had a call from our friend and poet Bob Bengtson tonight. We're trying to pull together an autumn showing of poetry and love songs by Bob and his wife, Marilyn. I think we could pull this off at our house but Regis is skeptical. He thinks we need a bigger venue so I'm going to ponder that. If you have ideas, please leave a comment. Our house is on the small side for that kind of bash. Maybe the Donahower House. Youch. I see they charge $500 for events. Well, on to the next idea. It will happen and it will be wonderful.

We roasted a chicken from our new friend, who is labeled in my cell phone as Meat Mike. Mike is a very nice fellow who takes good care of his chickens and cows. He told me his dad had an operation for a hundred cows and now he has 12 cows in the same space so they are well cared for. He invited me out to see the cows and their accommodations. Oh, no, I said. I think I will trust you and believe that the cows have a happy life. The chicken was delicious and we are ordering some more. We like the idea of meat that comes from a real farm and not a Walmart farm, if you get my drift.

I spent the last two days at a meeting where we wrote a plan to help our district make adequate yearly progress toward 100% proficiency on the standardized tests. Oh, for god's sake. I wanted to stab myself in the neck with a fork and twist it. First of all, I can't look at numbers for four hours without having them float up off the page and waft around my head like spirits. I have a hard time even looking like I'm paying attention.

Then we spend the next 12 hours writing a plan about something that is almost totally unattainable. It's hard to get your head around it in a realistic way and I admire people (sort of) who can sit there and do it. I stare at the ceiling, I think about what I'm making for dinner, I take a nap with my eyes open, I look for other people who are equally apathetic and I talk to them about their drinking problems. It's hilarious. All of this is evidence that I might want to consider retirement. They all deserve to have a person with more enthusiasm than I currently possess.

Today I ran 3.5 miles. I think that's what it was anyway. I'm a little too random to keep track of this the way I should. My knees hurt tonight so I know it was a long dang way. How in the hell am I going to make it ten miles?

1 comment:

Jill said...

I'm sorry your knees hurt. I'm NOT sorry I'm not a part of the planning to have 100% proficiency on those idiot tests. I could rant, but I won't. Hope your knees feel better tomorrow.