"This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine
Let it shine
Let it shine"
27 January 2011
14 December 2010
09 December 2010
SaveOurSairy
Although I have known Sairy for forever, and we've never been particularly close, I have always felt connected to her because of our dad's (who used to work together once upon a time) and because we are both a part of a three-sister clan (she also has a sweetheart brother Russell) (& we happen to be of similar ages & all grew up in Benzie County).
The thing about Sairy is that no matter what's going on, she shows up. I can look back at the past four years of living back in northern Michigan and although I don't make it to all the great events I'd like to, I can recall running into Sairy at so very many of the ones that really mattered to me (deeply--soulful ventures)--whether it was a poetry reading or art exhibit or live music in Bellaire, or a benefit for someone in need, or the support of an amazing cause like Eco Seeds or Higher Grounds Trading Co. (or so many others).
Sometimes, it was just running into her at Oryana Natural Foods Market, seeing her on one of the sidewalks in Traverse City, or a favorite time; just listening to her talk, lovingly, about her work, on a summer's afternoon on her sister Rachael's porch.
Sairy has been & continues to be a lovely source of inspiration & I wish more than anything for her 100% health! Much LOVE Sairy!!
Please stop by the web site built in her honor if you cannot make the fundraiser tonight at Higher Grounds in Traverse City, MI.
http://www.SaveOurSairy.org
The thing about Sairy is that no matter what's going on, she shows up. I can look back at the past four years of living back in northern Michigan and although I don't make it to all the great events I'd like to, I can recall running into Sairy at so very many of the ones that really mattered to me (deeply--soulful ventures)--whether it was a poetry reading or art exhibit or live music in Bellaire, or a benefit for someone in need, or the support of an amazing cause like Eco Seeds or Higher Grounds Trading Co. (or so many others).
Sometimes, it was just running into her at Oryana Natural Foods Market, seeing her on one of the sidewalks in Traverse City, or a favorite time; just listening to her talk, lovingly, about her work, on a summer's afternoon on her sister Rachael's porch.
Sairy has been & continues to be a lovely source of inspiration & I wish more than anything for her 100% health! Much LOVE Sairy!!
Please stop by the web site built in her honor if you cannot make the fundraiser tonight at Higher Grounds in Traverse City, MI.
http://www.SaveOurSairy.org
07 December 2010
01 December 2010
For the health of it!
Read some simple, smart, definitely-worth-it tips for the health conscious!
http://bit.ly/fCyYNa
http://bit.ly/fCyYNa
04 October 2010
a headline from today
City Regional Chamber of Commerce Bi-Weekly News Digest, Week Ending Fri., Oct. 1, 2010
Is It Over For Bernero?
The airwaves are dark for Democratic Gubernatorial nominee Lansing Mayor Virgil Bernero -- leaving pundits to wonder whether the tide has gone out on the Democrat's gubernatorial hopes.
"It was openly asked on the Off the Record show and elsewhere a few weeks ago. That was: What was the maximum amount of time Bernero had in which to try to change the race before the Democrats started pulling money from his race to be divvyed up for other races?" Inside Michigan Politics Editor Bill Ballenger told MIRS. "People generally estimated that he had about two weeks, or until the end of the month. Now here we are . . . so it's not surprising that we're talking about this right now."
Apparently what has been happening is as follows:
A little over a week ago the TV ad activity for the Bernero campaign, which had been fast and furious in mid-September, slipped off the cliff. The word was that Bernero was out of money. His campaign hasn't made a buy since Sept. 22. A few days later the Michigan Democratic Party (MDP) stepped in with a $200,000 cable TV buy for Bernero. Then as the end of last week neared a second $200,000 MDP buy for Bernero was supposedly coming, but according to those watching in the opposing camp, it never happened.
A well-placed source has told MIRS that the Democrats are polling to try and find out what, if any, effect Bernero's mid-September ad blitz had. Insiders say that unless the ads did more than shore up the Democratic base a bit and push a few Snyder supporters back into the undecided column, potential Democratic financial backers aren't likely to be impressed.
Politics aside, why in HE** does money become the deciding factor on the potential for an election of any kind? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY does it have to be this way??????????
Is It Over For Bernero?
The airwaves are dark for Democratic Gubernatorial nominee Lansing Mayor Virgil Bernero -- leaving pundits to wonder whether the tide has gone out on the Democrat's gubernatorial hopes.
"It was openly asked on the Off the Record show and elsewhere a few weeks ago. That was: What was the maximum amount of time Bernero had in which to try to change the race before the Democrats started pulling money from his race to be divvyed up for other races?" Inside Michigan Politics Editor Bill Ballenger told MIRS. "People generally estimated that he had about two weeks, or until the end of the month. Now here we are . . . so it's not surprising that we're talking about this right now."
Apparently what has been happening is as follows:
A little over a week ago the TV ad activity for the Bernero campaign, which had been fast and furious in mid-September, slipped off the cliff. The word was that Bernero was out of money. His campaign hasn't made a buy since Sept. 22. A few days later the Michigan Democratic Party (MDP) stepped in with a $200,000 cable TV buy for Bernero. Then as the end of last week neared a second $200,000 MDP buy for Bernero was supposedly coming, but according to those watching in the opposing camp, it never happened.
A well-placed source has told MIRS that the Democrats are polling to try and find out what, if any, effect Bernero's mid-September ad blitz had. Insiders say that unless the ads did more than shore up the Democratic base a bit and push a few Snyder supporters back into the undecided column, potential Democratic financial backers aren't likely to be impressed.
Politics aside, why in HE** does money become the deciding factor on the potential for an election of any kind? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY does it have to be this way??????????
14 September 2010
stella
oh stella, old gal
it breaks my ever-lovin' heart today
to know
that you took
your last
zoom
down the 'boulevard'
of green-tree'd, blue-sky'd
life
who else
has been by my side
through all the laughter
tears
funerals
celebrations
kisses
the ditches
& unfortunate encounters
with springtime snowshower hydroplaning
or
keys
locked
inside
(dare I crawl through the trunk?)
the times you
saved
my
life
the songs
belted
(when perhaps you wished the windows to be open or the laryngitis
to kick in).
i will forever
love
chevrolet
not just
for a taj mahal song
but because you got me through 225,803 miles
of a beautiful life.
the good with the bad gal.
RIP to the independence of my youth!
(Stella = my 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier who took a knee today...)
it breaks my ever-lovin' heart today
to know
that you took
your last
zoom
down the 'boulevard'
of green-tree'd, blue-sky'd
life
who else
has been by my side
through all the laughter
tears
funerals
celebrations
kisses
the ditches
& unfortunate encounters
with springtime snowshower hydroplaning
or
keys
locked
inside
(dare I crawl through the trunk?)
the times you
saved
my
life
the songs
belted
(when perhaps you wished the windows to be open or the laryngitis
to kick in).
i will forever
love
chevrolet
not just
for a taj mahal song
but because you got me through 225,803 miles
of a beautiful life.
the good with the bad gal.
RIP to the independence of my youth!
(Stella = my 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier who took a knee today...)
insurmountable
when you can't go back to correct
the mistakes that you've made
and
moving forward
seems tantamount to a deep sea dive to hell
and back
how do you put
one foot
in front of the other
& just take it one day at a time.
when does crawling out of the abyss you've fallen into
end?
will it ever feel like breathing again
and not gulping for air you
forgot to inhale during moments
stressed
and strained
and hot red
& itchy
shiny bright beaming blue sky
sun rays
moon shine
i see and feel
your light
my pores sop it up
like salty earth to rain.
i want to
and continue to
believe
yet
...
yet...
y e t ...
my hope flag's
flyin'
kinda
low.
the mistakes that you've made
and
moving forward
seems tantamount to a deep sea dive to hell
and back
how do you put
one foot
in front of the other
& just take it one day at a time.
when does crawling out of the abyss you've fallen into
end?
will it ever feel like breathing again
and not gulping for air you
forgot to inhale during moments
stressed
and strained
and hot red
& itchy
shiny bright beaming blue sky
sun rays
moon shine
i see and feel
your light
my pores sop it up
like salty earth to rain.
i want to
and continue to
believe
yet
...
yet...
y e t ...
my hope flag's
flyin'
kinda
low.
03 August 2010
Ode to Isabel
Silky-soft palms, too smooth to hold onto much...
A dash of this, and this, and that...
mix dry together
then
ever-so-slowly,
add warm to dry
stir and knead and let rest and knead and roll
thin
thin
thin
s t r e t c h e d flat like a record.
sizzle-sizzle in a big, round pan or a HOT
flat
griddle...
[Isabel style: shred your favorite cheddar grab your favorite butter]
or summer harvest
red, green, orange...
chop, chop, chop.
paper thin disks
sizzle
on dry heat
turn quick, over and over and over
and then keep warm; nearby.
ring the dinner bell.
eat up.
with zippy hot salsa!
zam!
what of flaky, freshly caught fish tacos?
or
one dollop
of
bright green
avocado (guacamole)
added on top...
black beans.
orangeyellowredPEPPERS!
oh Isabel Najars, how the heaven on
Earth of who you
were to us, held closely
near your
apron strings,
feeding hungry kid-mouths
who played, and played and
never
stopped
playing...
oh Isabel.
we hold you in our hearts
close like a granny.
close like a sweet, sweet heart
of
our little girl hearts.
A dash of this, and this, and that...
flour
salt
baking powder
[warm] milk
olive oil
mix dry together
then
ever-so-slowly,
add warm to dry
stir and knead and let rest and knead and roll
thin
thin
thin
s t r e t c h e d flat like a record.
sizzle-sizzle in a big, round pan or a HOT
flat
griddle...
[Isabel style: shred your favorite cheddar grab your favorite butter]
or summer harvest
red, green, orange...
chop, chop, chop.
paper thin disks
sizzle
on dry heat
turn quick, over and over and over
and then keep warm; nearby.
ring the dinner bell.
eat up.
with zippy hot salsa!
zam!
what of flaky, freshly caught fish tacos?
or
one dollop
of
bright green
avocado (guacamole)
added on top...
black beans.
orangeyellowredPEPPERS!
oh Isabel Najars, how the heaven on
Earth of who you
were to us, held closely
near your
apron strings,
feeding hungry kid-mouths
who played, and played and
never
stopped
playing...
oh Isabel.
we hold you in our hearts
close like a granny.
close like a sweet, sweet heart
of
our little girl hearts.
23 June 2010
Illusive Lover
Screechy-yellow
Bright light
Squinting into you
I ache
Deep inside
I have a lovehate
Relationship with you.
Somewhere in late july or early august
When my sunblock-shopping-sprees are maxed...
You wile me
into believing you are safe and
Cozy and warmhearted (and sexy).
Morph my freckle
Into a cancerous lump and
I
WILL
slityourthroat
With my shiny, shiny pocket
Sword.
Oh, be-nign-baby...
be mine (benign).
jennryan2010
Bright light
Squinting into you
I ache
Deep inside
I have a lovehate
Relationship with you.
Somewhere in late july or early august
When my sunblock-shopping-sprees are maxed...
You wile me
into believing you are safe and
Cozy and warmhearted (and sexy).
Morph my freckle
Into a cancerous lump and
I
WILL
slityourthroat
With my shiny, shiny pocket
Sword.
Oh, be-nign-baby...
be mine (benign).
jennryan2010
17 June 2010
In honor of...
The other day as I clicked to “Like” my alma mater’s ‘fan page’, I read a friend’s post which heiroglyphed an “RIP” on the electronic footprint of the page, it was in honor of a woman who attended college at the same time that we did.
I attended a small, private, Midwestern, liberal arts college in the 1990’s, and although I did not know this woman very intimately, we shared friends and classes in common, and in particular, I remember her bright eyes, exuberant smile, and a laugh, that would make most any heart sing.
After reading about her death, I inquired further and learned that sadly, a number of tragic circumstances including the loss of her mother, the loss of her home, financial complexities, and other personal problems had all contributed to her untimely demise. In fact, she intentionally took her life, in a somber act of suicide.
In the moment of recognition of what this young woman had determined to do, I mentally stepped into her shoes, and looked around, trying to imagine the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness that she must have been overwhelmed with. I saw a grey smoky haze, hanging all around. It was murky, heavy, dim. As I inhaled, a sputtery cough began deep in my esophagus and it was difficult to breathe.
Card-catalogue drawers of thoughts careened through my mental space, recalling loss—the loss of family, of friends—both naturally and by their own hand. Recalling financial woes—paycheck-to-paycheck living, blocks of government cheese eaten as a child; my own experience with foreclosure and in the ‘difficult personal problems’ category, tragic decisions such as terminating a fetus.
In the seconds it took to step into her shoes, to take a few steps in the reality that she may have experienced, treading lightly on the memory of my own war story, I wondered why it was that she chose to go, and I chose to stay?
For even in loss and failure and utter chaos; even when overwhelmed with embarrassment or hasty decisions, the ramifications of which might haunt me a life long, I stood tall. I stayed earthbound. I am here.
Thank goodness.
In honor of the beauty that was this woman’s center, her soul; I salute her. I raise high, my heart-of-hearts, and send an unequivocally unwavering sweet gesture, holding space for all that she was and is now, free, spread far and wide across the universe.
So too, do I honor the memory of all the sweet hearts who have gone before... Mary* today is the anniversary of her death, Roseanne, Daniel, Arthur, Russell... there are too many names to type here... they are all here, in my heart.
*Picasso's 'Dove' seems appropriate to leave here today, for all soaring souls...
I attended a small, private, Midwestern, liberal arts college in the 1990’s, and although I did not know this woman very intimately, we shared friends and classes in common, and in particular, I remember her bright eyes, exuberant smile, and a laugh, that would make most any heart sing.
After reading about her death, I inquired further and learned that sadly, a number of tragic circumstances including the loss of her mother, the loss of her home, financial complexities, and other personal problems had all contributed to her untimely demise. In fact, she intentionally took her life, in a somber act of suicide.
In the moment of recognition of what this young woman had determined to do, I mentally stepped into her shoes, and looked around, trying to imagine the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness that she must have been overwhelmed with. I saw a grey smoky haze, hanging all around. It was murky, heavy, dim. As I inhaled, a sputtery cough began deep in my esophagus and it was difficult to breathe.
Card-catalogue drawers of thoughts careened through my mental space, recalling loss—the loss of family, of friends—both naturally and by their own hand. Recalling financial woes—paycheck-to-paycheck living, blocks of government cheese eaten as a child; my own experience with foreclosure and in the ‘difficult personal problems’ category, tragic decisions such as terminating a fetus.
In the seconds it took to step into her shoes, to take a few steps in the reality that she may have experienced, treading lightly on the memory of my own war story, I wondered why it was that she chose to go, and I chose to stay?
For even in loss and failure and utter chaos; even when overwhelmed with embarrassment or hasty decisions, the ramifications of which might haunt me a life long, I stood tall. I stayed earthbound. I am here.
Thank goodness.
In honor of the beauty that was this woman’s center, her soul; I salute her. I raise high, my heart-of-hearts, and send an unequivocally unwavering sweet gesture, holding space for all that she was and is now, free, spread far and wide across the universe.
So too, do I honor the memory of all the sweet hearts who have gone before... Mary* today is the anniversary of her death, Roseanne, Daniel, Arthur, Russell... there are too many names to type here... they are all here, in my heart.
*Picasso's 'Dove' seems appropriate to leave here today, for all soaring souls...
08 June 2010
Playing catch
Last evening was spent with most of my immediate family as we watched my eldest nephew play a game of baseball. The age range spanned 56 years, the stories in those years, varied, colorful, tragic, irreverent...
A small, sweet, chilled-early-June moment that stood out involved a game of catch between an energetic (albeit allergic) five year old boy and his grandpa--playing a simple game of catch with a lime green tennis ball--furry and buoyant in the blue skied air.
A spitfire of sorts, the little guy cocked his arm, aimed, and drilled the ball.
It careened away from his body, the trajectory off course, and collided, suddenly, with a thud, against the temple of a young mother, also present to watch the 'big boys' baseball game in the ball field behind this little game of catch.
Stunned, she jumped, as the ball merely grazed her temple and designer sunglasses, she turned to see that it was a furry, green tennis ball; NOT, perchance, the squishy, furry flesh of one of the millions of tent worms/gypsy moths which have over run our lovely Northern Michigan foliage of late.
She grinned, laughed aloud, and the little guy chirped with a frenzied, emotional clatter of response, "OOH, SORRY!!!"
A small, sweet, chilled-early-June moment that stood out involved a game of catch between an energetic (albeit allergic) five year old boy and his grandpa--playing a simple game of catch with a lime green tennis ball--furry and buoyant in the blue skied air.
A spitfire of sorts, the little guy cocked his arm, aimed, and drilled the ball.
It careened away from his body, the trajectory off course, and collided, suddenly, with a thud, against the temple of a young mother, also present to watch the 'big boys' baseball game in the ball field behind this little game of catch.
Stunned, she jumped, as the ball merely grazed her temple and designer sunglasses, she turned to see that it was a furry, green tennis ball; NOT, perchance, the squishy, furry flesh of one of the millions of tent worms/gypsy moths which have over run our lovely Northern Michigan foliage of late.
She grinned, laughed aloud, and the little guy chirped with a frenzied, emotional clatter of response, "OOH, SORRY!!!"
28 May 2010
Satiate
Spending time surrounded by colorful mixed media, listening to music--quiet or loud, depending on the mood of the day; immersed fully in the creativity that is pouring forth, is my favorite space to be within.
I thank my stars for the keen ability to recognize this need to nourish and the luxury of quiet weekend space to fulfill it by the spoon full.
27 May 2010
Vroom-vroom...
Monday through Friday, I drive 37 miles between the tidy city streets of downtown Frankfort, to the industrial corridor of Traverse City, Michigan. Home to work and then back again. Depending on the weather, the time of year, and the time of day, I can make the trek in about 40 minutes, and/or 90. It all depends.
In December, I found the trip was taking 75, consistently. Everyone was driving about 40 miles an hour as we were pounded, day after day with a steady stream of white, puffy snowflakes. During this seemingly less than tolerable portion of my commuter’s history, I found listening to our local public radio station, IPR, practicing Spanish, and listening to a couple of holiday gifts (mixed cd’s) got me through it all.
I haven’t always been a car-driving commuter. I’ve had the luxury (and general proximity) of such frivolities as apartment-above-the-garage convenience (during the stint I was a nanny in New York), or the ‘three doors away’ convenience of an artsy loft in the neighborhood of the studio I worked at for three years. Another time, I chose to purchase a house that was not only on the main drag, close to the highway, but less than three miles from my office and on a main bus route. Normally, ‘work’ is nearby and the option to ride my bike, walk, or roller blade has been the plan of attack. BUT, change is inevitable.
I’ve been driving a 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier since January of 1997. “Stella” as she is named, because of her general demeanor and car-riding charisma, has gotten me from here to there, forever.
She kicks more ass than I can count.
In December, I found the trip was taking 75, consistently. Everyone was driving about 40 miles an hour as we were pounded, day after day with a steady stream of white, puffy snowflakes. During this seemingly less than tolerable portion of my commuter’s history, I found listening to our local public radio station, IPR, practicing Spanish, and listening to a couple of holiday gifts (mixed cd’s) got me through it all.
I haven’t always been a car-driving commuter. I’ve had the luxury (and general proximity) of such frivolities as apartment-above-the-garage convenience (during the stint I was a nanny in New York), or the ‘three doors away’ convenience of an artsy loft in the neighborhood of the studio I worked at for three years. Another time, I chose to purchase a house that was not only on the main drag, close to the highway, but less than three miles from my office and on a main bus route. Normally, ‘work’ is nearby and the option to ride my bike, walk, or roller blade has been the plan of attack. BUT, change is inevitable.
I’ve been driving a 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier since January of 1997. “Stella” as she is named, because of her general demeanor and car-riding charisma, has gotten me from here to there, forever.
She kicks more ass than I can count.
24 May 2010
Engage
"Never get tired of doing little things for others. Sometimes, those little things occupy the biggest part of their hearts." -- Author Unknown
I find this suggestion to be one of the favorite of my life. For whatever reason, I learned long, long ago, the sheer delight of doing just this--the trick is knowing that it does not have to be about spending any money on anyone, but simply being thoughtful... stepping outside of the 'bubble' of yourself long enough to notice the other wonderful folks all around, and interacting and reacting on behalf of something that you recognize in them-- it could be the simplest gesture...
:)
Practice Random Kindness & Other Senseless Acts of Beauty!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
lovely africa
