tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22509219719789720522012-02-16T22:26:33.080-05:00ridiculousness. suspiciousness. candy.maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.comBlogger3221100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-76683508737449625282012-02-07T20:56:00.000-05:002012-02-07T20:56:01.854-05:00

some days after breakfast the sweetie and i walk down the steps of the caboose and we head up the railroad tracks a little, walk the right-of-way through the trees and around the curve, past the field with that one cow on the east side of the rails and the wrung out land where the river came up to the west. but today i am restless and want to walk the other way, over the two lane road we call

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-51701376545939696262012-01-18T22:36:00.000-05:002012-01-19T17:02:24.186-05:00

this entry is for folks still here wondering what we'll do now and who will tell about it.  if you know my uncle jay you don't need me to tell you what sort of man he has always been. after all, he worked for the gas company, wore that gray uniform more often than he didn't, as far as i could tell. when there was some sort of emergency- a tornado, a flood, an ice storm, men like my dad and my

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-47227115101596105302012-01-01T22:49:00.001-05:002012-01-01T22:49:23.645-05:00

for the first day of the new year, an old secret the smell of old books and a woodstove is about all we need, the sweetie and me, to lure us in. if there is snow outside and an old dog inside and the guy behind the counter talks to us about the books we're holding like they are men he knew and lost during the war, we will stay forever, sniffing the smells of stories and maps and photos of

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-57899338501514633072011-12-29T13:00:00.000-05:002011-12-29T13:21:02.141-05:00

sometimes i write and then forget to slap the words up on the screen. these three seem to be comfortable being on the same page so here they sit, original dates right next to them so you'll know what's what- unexpected little things people gave me. i think maybe they're upside down, time-wise. you'll figure it out. spiderman, dated 11-01-11 i first realize he is spiderman when he puts a hand

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-89174665708740590892011-11-24T07:58:00.001-05:002011-11-24T08:37:40.207-05:00

the first time i saw him he was putting his fist through one of those glass panels embedded with chicken wire, the kind school stairwells had in the fifties. he shattered the glass pretty impressively but the chickenwire kept it from spilling all over the place. he cut his hand and bruised it a bit. he was mad, i heard later, at his girlfriend. i saw her in class a day or so after, tiny, eyes

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-43418909608530832912011-11-01T21:35:00.002-04:002011-11-02T20:01:50.957-04:00

in 8th grade he walked up to a group of older boys in the street and said something very bad in spanish. he waited for the fight to start but the boys, who were not the gang members he'd hoped they were, simply looked at him the way you'd look at a yappy puppy behind a fence. this frustrated him, as you can imagine, so he threw rocks at them. handfuls of gravel, really. they walked on down the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-28681300628351383302011-10-06T19:56:00.001-04:002011-10-06T19:56:50.911-04:00

i do not know the whole story behind why there are lightsabers in the desk, but there are two. they belong to the teacher who is in this classroom most of the day and we sometimes use them as swords when we are acting out macbeth. we have been acting out macbeth the last week or so. our floor, the english floor, is a quiet haven in the midst of wildness. except for the seventh graders. they come

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-48213066436416100602011-09-23T19:27:00.000-04:002011-09-23T19:27:38.471-04:00

this is the prettiest thing i have for the first day of fall. it should be read out loud. with passion. especially the dog's part. go gather up a pile of folks and read it out loud right now. go on. How To Like It by Stephen Dobyns These are the first days of fall. The wind at evening smells of roads still to be traveled, while the sound of leaves blowing across

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-66794168915555951272011-09-06T18:14:00.004-04:002011-09-07T21:03:07.992-04:00

my sister made the threats first. this is how she works. she anticipates the potential foolishness of a person and just goes right ahead and threatens that if whatever she thinks might happen eventually does, someone will get a near-fatal dose of her wrath. the thing is, i know she didn't just threaten me. she threatened him, as well. i guess she figured she didn't know any two people further

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-6157431808121518342011-09-01T22:28:00.000-04:002011-09-01T22:28:04.239-04:00

 the delaware and ulster railroad starts out sitting up above the high curvy cut of the bush kill. it heads through town along dry brook, crosses the intersection by casey joe's, slips past the caboose with the delicious scrambled eggs, then cuddles itself up next to the east branch delaware river. the two, the river and the railroad tracks, wind through a valley the river itself has been working

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-6891874321721584182011-08-26T11:05:00.000-04:002011-08-26T11:05:53.327-04:00

yet another entry about how everyone loves the socially awkward dog the small brown dog stands very still and stares straight ahead. until the woman in front of him situates herself so that he is looking at her. and then he moves. away. when he is at home, he likes nothing better than to stare balefully into the eyes of his victims but when he is here, out of doors, leashed up and eel-toothed,

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-24391121046565609292011-08-11T21:31:00.005-04:002011-08-12T08:24:16.183-04:00

                       every two or three years i reread mark twain's great saga from start to finish finding                         it as fresh as when i first read it. with the spirits of huck and jim pushing me i have                         been up and down the mississippi many times. though i travelled on big boats                         rather than intimately by raft i like to believe

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-40949708893467234372011-08-05T09:49:00.000-04:002011-08-05T09:49:13.440-04:00

first i ought to say i don't think brooklyn needs a big fat sports arena slammed down right in the middle of everything over on atlantic and flatbush. and i don't believe i'll see the affordable housing that's supposed to be coming with this grand new construction any more than i expect to see the cleaned up and "family-friendly"coney island gleaming with fancy new hotels snuggled up by the high

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-61521101725731425332011-08-02T11:03:00.000-04:002011-08-02T11:03:04.935-04:00

a 1970 chevy impala four door hardtop sedan with a v-8 engine is 18 feet of unbridled automotive fury. it is also just over six and a half feet wide. and in may of 1985 my own dear parents handed me the keys to more than 3,500 pounds of detroit steel and said happy birthday. i am telling you this so you will know that i know what i am doing. that i have known for a very long time. however,

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-14924814466189540872011-07-29T16:09:00.000-04:002011-07-29T16:09:48.576-04:00

one day pretty far back, historically speaking, the good folks of the city of new york looked around and realized the wells they'd dug and the rivers and springs on their skinny island were browner and dirtier and more full of typhoid and the like than they'd been before. they'd been making do with beer and whiskey and tea, but that will only go so far. you can't have a big city without any fresh

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-38855564046067305072011-07-25T21:17:00.007-04:002011-07-25T21:25:19.016-04:00

photos and video generously supplied by the baby sister.   it would be easiest to blame the parents because they are the ones who handed us our first explosives and the small crumbling bits of burning wand for lighting them. i do not recall when i was not allowed to set fire to wads of gunpowder wrapped in bright paper although i am sure there must have been such a time. maybe, because i am the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-55478402951918122462011-07-20T12:30:00.003-04:002011-07-20T12:46:00.823-04:00

the word possum refers to a beady-eyed, thumb-footed, stink-flavored american marsupial with no clear redeeming value. for much of my childhood i did not know that an o existed in the beginning of the word and to this day i do not know a soul who pronounces it. that o is a waste of time, just like the animal it's stuck on. and now, our drama unfolds: pretty new fig leaves emerging above

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-4151927203306362232011-07-19T12:42:00.000-04:002011-07-19T12:42:07.864-04:00

i'm trying out a new format. it's a little bit reckless. i might have got carried away. i took about five million photos of sunsets. i am working on the theory that i can store them up for use when i am back in brooklyn and cannot see the sky unless i am standing directly in the middle of the street. the sunsets here were relentless. we got one every single day! sunday evening. diving

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-28144440022413720662011-07-18T10:41:00.007-04:002011-07-18T12:49:14.888-04:00

i have lost my bearings. this is a selfish thing to say, considering. considering what all everyone else here has lost. cars and homes and trees, for some. people- children, grandparents, whole families, sometimes. photo albums. love letters. wedding dresses. baby shoes. we are at 26th and maiden lane. looking left i can see the shell of the hospital where my sisters were born, where my grandpa

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-27081670311996739712011-07-17T21:39:00.006-04:002011-07-17T23:04:14.291-04:00

part one of several entries about the big vacation.the week after school ends we find ourselves in maine. it is just after six thirty a.m. and the sweetie and his brother stand on the dock while i stare dubiously at the blue kayak. i do not know how to operate such a thing, but for months now, since the sweetie's parents sent word that the place we'd all spend a week together would be perched on

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-87606986422476640322011-06-26T12:50:00.011-04:002011-06-26T14:09:45.858-04:00

babies are sinister. there is no question about this although new parents will coo and drool about how close their own babies are to heaven, said babies having come just recently from there, how their hideously terrifying shrieks and howls are the voices of doves and angels. they will tell you with serious faces about the quality and volume and texture of the things they find in their own child's

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-91051760069783271362011-06-19T19:53:00.009-04:002011-06-19T22:19:12.547-04:00

warning: mildly salty language. because it's father's day.we head over to the caboose around 9:30 because we wake up too late for 5am fishing and figure we ought to at least eat a good breakfast before floating on the water fishless and in the blatant daylight. there is a porch on the caboose and you can sit out there with some scrambled eggs and enjoy looking over at the mountains or just being

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-30830727923129298772011-06-09T11:46:00.014-04:002011-06-09T21:29:22.588-04:00

the lovely pill i swallow daily to keep my wild brain content to sit still in my skull is salt based. it is the same chemical used to make the blood red showers of fire in fireworks. i like to think about it that way, me and the fireworks, full of this red sparking salt. i keep the salt happy with plenty of water and protein and chocolate and most of the time the salt does what it should, keeps

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-27044253037715616962011-06-07T17:35:00.004-04:002011-06-07T17:51:29.168-04:00

my dad wrote in to let us know how things are going. i figured i'd drag his note up from the comments section so folks won't miss it.It's amazing the compassion and help that's coming here from all over the country. It seems the whole world is wanting to help in one way or another, and it's VERY MUCH APPRECIATED. Donations are coming in daily..Food, Water, Clothing, and money...Strangers arriving

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-30065830786094096552011-05-24T16:37:00.016-04:002011-05-25T17:25:28.743-04:00

call 417-624-1995 or 417-623-0400 to make a donation to the independent living center tornado relief account through southwest missouri bank.or go to www.ilcenter.org to make a paypal donation.today is my 8th wedding anniversary. yesterday was the sweetie's fortieth birthday. the day before that was the tornado. here is how it started. the seventy year old father calls, chatting about the storm,

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-80500994583806362772011-05-23T13:41:00.001-04:002011-05-23T13:43:13.410-04:00

The family is safe. More to come later.

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-59462092922981737592011-05-19T16:55:00.010-04:002011-05-22T16:19:03.865-04:00

the boy puts his left hand around the right boot of the marquis de lafayette. he is careful not to catch his fingers in the spur just above the heel. his right hand grips the man's left boot. the boy leans back a bit, looks the whole situation over and shifts his left hand past the blade of a long sword so he's holding tight to the right ankle of the marquis with both hands. in one smooth

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-23939703207083523742011-05-18T08:36:00.009-04:002011-05-18T10:43:35.467-04:00

apologies for the poor picture quality. it was 6 am. it was raining. i was confused.the fourth floor fire escape landing on the building across the courtyard is pretty high up. four floors up, in fact. below it is the third floor fire escape landing and then down below that the second. there are the usual steps connecting each. on the fourth floor landing there's a ladder with rails like the ones

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-5461469194610162382011-05-11T17:13:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:24:47.527-04:00

for the small folks i know who make me laugh with their ownwild tales and, on occasion, their stories of traveling dogs. if you are the sort of person who keeps a dog lying around the house, sooner or later that dog will roll right over on the couch beside where you are sitting and he will look up at you. if he is a low, long dog, there will be a great deal of stretching and yawning and paw

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-57607714579071342572011-04-24T18:19:00.011-04:002011-04-25T18:43:35.535-04:00

our post office box is on the upper row, a small one just big enough for letters, the weekly shopper and a few seed catalogs. once in a while there's a yellow card inside that sends me to the front counter for a package. now, there's no telling what might arrive. peeps. taco doritos. bits of electrical things the sweetie will make into a guitar pedal. but a week or so back a steam engine came in

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-19960794181121043052011-04-19T16:45:00.016-04:002011-04-20T18:33:24.483-04:00

click these to see them up close and personal. not because i'm a good photographer. just because there's pretty stuff out there.well, it turns out that phone with the stereo in it also has a few cameras lying around inside that case. now, i have plenty of cameras for myself, all the way from pinhole to brownie to polaroid to digital. i don't mean to brag but i have an argus c-3. that's right. the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-37812000935127509322011-04-15T15:37:00.005-04:002011-04-15T18:09:49.215-04:00

for information on how you can help stop bullying of gay youth (or anyone else you love), go to: http://www.glsen.org/cgi-bin/iowa/all/antibullying/index.htmltoday is the national day of silence. because i am the sponsor, more or less, of the gay and non-homophobic children at our school, i decide to try to be silent. remember, i am a teacher. now, i share each class with a second adult but today

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-8638655481464412342011-04-11T06:50:00.006-04:002011-04-12T20:49:22.841-04:00

the sunday farm market spends winters in the old anerican can factory but now is back outside on fifth avenue over by the old stone house, a three hundred year old dutch farmhouse that figured prominently in brooklyn's contributions to the revolution. that revolution, yes. i have learned my lesson trying to wrangle a stubborn dog while navigating a farm market and so i go out into sunday morning

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-51447573210863238092011-04-10T12:52:00.008-04:002011-04-11T18:59:26.044-04:00

the saturday farm market is at grand army plaza. it is large and overwhelming and full of stroller-pushing maniacs with an undue sense of entitlement. they will run you down with a thousand dollar stroller designed to roll smoothly over the body of any victim the parent flattens with it. my desire to get green things overwhelms my stroller hatred so i take the dog. he carries his eel and the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-86579051173598252202011-04-05T21:23:00.014-04:002011-04-08T16:45:22.784-04:00

thanks to the middle sister for the eagles: http://www.raptorresource.org/falcon_cams/index.htmlthe egg looks like one of those grayish white river stones, smoothed by the water but not at all soft. it looks heavy, looks like it would hurt if you tossed it at someone. it is difficult to see this last egg because the two small eagles crowded up with it are that same dirty-snow color and they are

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-6570418771382182952011-04-02T07:02:00.004-04:002011-04-02T19:20:23.514-04:00

you need to call your mother insists the voice on the answering machine. it is the middle sister, the one earliest identified as being "vocal" about things. the one whose first nickname had an actual expletive in it. you need to tell her you remember that they made us trick or treat... and i know before i hear the rest of the message what she is talking about. forced trick or treating. while it

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-86648713811652246912011-03-25T15:56:00.005-04:002011-03-25T18:39:32.326-04:00

my first phone was about ten years ago, a thing that looked like a giant cicada. i put a faux wood case on it and carried it around for dialing up numbers. that's what it was for. my next phone, the phone i carried until about nine last night, was a waterproof, shockproof monstrosity larger than the landline phone we have. a cross between a submarine and a football helmet, this phone allowed me

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-13518850777172464582011-03-23T18:04:00.001-04:002011-03-23T19:17:16.358-04:00

we head outside this first seriously springish day, the small dog, his lizard and i. guthrie focuses immediately on the task at hand and drops his lizard in front of him, close under his chest where he can keep a good eye on it. he cannot pee and carry his lizard at the same time. this is his rule and he does not consider, probably because he is a dog, that the lizard is lying helpless on a slope

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-70646665719059911942011-03-19T22:32:00.010-04:002011-03-20T08:13:37.735-04:00

helpful info: the first two photos are mine. accidental flash and tiny, tiny moon. the last photo is the sweetie's. blow it up. see a crater or five.the full worm moon is out there. the almanac says so. it is the moon that keeps time with the earthworms and it promises spring. i head out with the camera around ten because it is not just the worm moon. this moon has edged up close to us, closer

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-219709765363407872011-03-12T18:49:00.012-05:002011-03-13T21:49:17.177-04:00

the seventh day of march last year i found three fat buds on the lemon tree i have nearly killed four times. a week later there were six. they bloomed and hissed out a tiny scent that is the way i want everything to smell. my house. my clothes. my hair. my eyes. the next week each white flower dropped into the dirt. all except one. that one formed a tiny green globe that grew so slowly sometimes

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-83576873616200087162011-03-11T15:22:00.008-05:002011-03-12T07:08:39.594-05:00

the original supernatural nephew is on the phone and he is none too pleased with us. it is the newer nephew's birthday and the whole family is together, halfway across the country, eating cake and being wild. but the original supernatural nephew detaches himself from the wildness and talks to the sweetie in a soft but accusing tone. i know it was you, he says, a fourth grade teacher trying to get

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-42216210495001709972011-02-23T15:16:00.003-05:002011-03-01T17:58:57.205-05:00

the smaller supernatural nephew calls to talk to guthrie. these conversations are elaborate, filled with squeals and raspy breathing and small howls. the child translates what the dog says for his parents. he knows they don't know a thing about dog language. this is his third language and he slides around in it easily, hears it like it is his own.initially, the conversation is about how the dog

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-61183732359844690422011-02-22T09:23:00.007-05:002011-02-22T16:25:01.519-05:00

the original supernatural nephew is planning to visit us. his mother calls to warn us, to prepare us, to let us know there's nothing more she can do. we have been waiting. since he was very small we have been waiting for him to be old enough to visit on his own. we didn't know him so well his first few years because of the great distance between him in missouri and us in brooklyn but we suspected

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-14941291276241866892011-02-18T16:36:00.003-05:002011-02-18T17:31:13.381-05:00

it started with the guy who was fighting with his tattoo. it was a newish looking tattoo, glossy and puffy and at first i figured he was on the phone, on some sort of earpiece, telling someone about it. he was staring at it, the design on his upper arm. the right one. but there was no earpiece and he was not chatting. his teeth were gritted and his brow was furrowed. his voice was low and angry.

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-82716426320363091232011-02-10T17:04:00.004-05:002011-02-13T21:51:52.689-05:00

1. the small boy wields the shopping cart like a weapon, swerving through the wide dairy aisle with no regard for those in need of butter or yogurt. "that child," i say to the sweetie, "is a monster." the sweetie pushes our own cart over to the milk and the small boy heads straight for us, a shark, a missile. but he stops short of killing us and says loudly, "what team are you voting for?" his

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-55164852160515589302011-02-01T16:57:00.005-05:002011-02-01T17:29:56.428-05:00

i am on the phone with my father because i have received several phone messages throughout the day reporting on his dangerous and bad behavior. now, he is no stranger to dangerous and bad behavior but his loving children have been trying, as he nears that venerable age of seventy, to rein in some of his more useless and silly bad behavior. and this is what these phone calls have been about. my

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-83256169613794590102011-01-29T14:37:00.003-05:002011-01-29T15:08:07.674-05:00

"ducks!" yells the sweetie as we pull into a parking space at the local grocery store. i would like to say my brain and body work together well enough that i hit the floor of the car as soon as i hear his voice. but no. the lack of brain/body coordination, coupled with a knowledge that the sweetie doesn't fumble his words, means i look up, expecting to see a flock of birds overhead.i should

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-49205094208468023322011-01-25T18:34:00.012-05:002011-01-27T19:32:00.116-05:00

socks are knit on big fat lion brand yarn called amazing. the color scheme, a self striping blue and gray, is called olympia. the pattern is a sock pattern i found online called "simplest sock pattern ever". and it is. we are sitting in the vet's office, the sweetie and me. we are waiting for an x-ray of the small dog who may or may not have tangled up his skeleton on a trip through the car wash

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-6097805024601373792011-01-22T07:50:00.009-05:002011-01-22T11:40:51.159-05:00

you think you will feel it right away. that there's a distinct and painful difference between temperatures on the fahrenheit scale with two numbers, such as 75 or 23, and temperatures with only one number. for instance, 5. you think your soul will freeze when you step into that sort of atmosphere. you think birds will shatter and fall from the sky and trees will split their limbs open from the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-30518973024957349072011-01-15T12:12:00.004-05:002011-01-15T12:58:32.735-05:00

we have ourselves a very nice noon siren here in arkville. as far as we can tell, it wails for a minute right at noon on saturdays and weekdays, resting on sundays. there are plenty of forms of speculation as to why small towns have noon whistles or sirens but because ours sits right on top of the volunteer fire station i can see from the living room window, i'm going to toss out the idea that

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-73063534264563117782011-01-04T16:49:00.004-05:002011-01-04T18:37:52.754-05:00

he is asleep when i get on the bus. it is not terribly crowded but i am still standing by him awhile before i notice him. well, at first i do not notice him at all. i notice the palm trees. and the soldiers. small men in camouflage posed variously with weapons. there is an olive drab helicopter hovering above them, secured there with a slender stick. there is an american flag waving over the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-72738383227615577532010-12-28T18:57:00.009-05:002010-12-28T22:27:26.693-05:00

we didn't get the blizzard. we waited. we watched. i stood by the window glaring out at the mountain. sometimes weather gets stuck on that thing, snagged up a while, wearing itself out, finally dragging itself over the tops of the pines and spruce weak and disappointingly light in snow. glaring at the mountain does nothing to undo this problem but it makes me feel better, smug and warm by the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-2364362053289324762010-12-25T18:25:00.006-05:002010-12-28T08:06:47.321-05:00

i am explaining the finer points of the monkfish to the original supernatural nephew, how it lurks along the bottom of the ocean using a small bit of itself, maybe the end of a dorsal fin, as a fishing rod to lure in tasty prey. he is pleased with this, i can tell, even from half a country away. some of them grow to be five feet long, i tell him. and though the monkfish is a hideous beast capable

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-22720424479762708072010-12-22T17:58:00.011-05:002010-12-26T17:49:49.827-05:00

the sweetie is sitting cross-legged on the floor of our apartment. the overhead light is blaring as is the sunlamp we dragged home from a flea market several years ago. he rewired the thing, pulled miles of cord from inside the heavy pedestal, and now i sit under it to knit. he hunches over the coffee table which was, when i first saw it, a monstrous slab of wood floor plank sprawled out on a

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-44221441421882640872010-12-08T21:13:00.006-05:002010-12-12T19:19:33.429-05:00

the boy on the bus is struggling with something. "no, no," he would say if asked, "i'm not a boy at all. i'm clearly a man!" he would jut out his chin so the faint hint of beard there might catch your eye. he is dressed for church, for an interview. he is dressed the way boys dress for graduation, in clothes that look awkward, even though they fit. his black wing tip shoes anchor him to the floor

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-73621176785681327142010-11-28T21:46:00.008-05:002010-11-29T21:59:19.178-05:00

he has been talking about visiting for a while, telling anyone who will listen that he will be traveling to brooklyn. he has been whispering it into phones, giggling about it with other children, telling strangers when the opportunity arises. i am foolish enough to think he wants to see me, to see the giant uncle. he tells us on the phone he can't wait and i believe him. but when i open the door

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-6513220308477226512010-10-31T12:07:00.008-04:002010-11-01T21:00:55.865-04:00

the brown dog is snuffling around on the corner. he's a small lab, old enough he's beginning to thicken in the middle and walk a little stiffly. he sees us, sees guthrie at least, as we walk toward him. he eyes the lizard in guthrie's teeth and his eyes brighten. his ears slide up and back. guthrie prances past without a glance but the brown dog watches intently. we cross the street and guthrie

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-35946166151990012962010-10-17T17:21:00.000-04:002010-10-17T21:44:14.016-04:00

in the thunderstormy part of spring the baby birds fall out of nests like soft hailstones. they are just out of their eggs, all skin and closed eyes and pointy ends and there is so much nothing to them it's hard to imagine the wind moving them at all. tiny bags of pinkish gray huddled down into nests in threes and fours. but the wind does catch them. and i don't know how it figures out how to

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-73396582274412111982010-10-13T09:01:00.004-04:002010-10-13T14:00:12.354-04:00

this morning is one of those good, cool mornings full of jackets and sweaters and small girls in new wool tights. we are walking, the low dog and i, in the morning rush to work and school. people step out of little cafes with steaming coffees and their shoes clatter on the iron treads of the steps down into the subway. some of them still have real live folded paper copies of the times wedged

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-71920063819238712322010-10-07T07:45:00.003-04:002010-10-07T07:48:51.763-04:00

this is something i suppose we've been expecting for a while. i mean, really, this is something we've seen coming on down the road since he was born. but it's one of those things like waiting for your child to hit puberty. some part of you secretly hopes the whole thing will never happen, but you know it will so the rest of you wishes you could just squeeze shut your eyes and hope that when you

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-19641635268470573302010-09-23T18:11:00.005-04:002010-09-23T19:53:38.960-04:00

they are boys i have known a long time. three years which is, to them, an eternity. i think of them, these children, as mine. this is how we all see wild and ephemeral things. the bird outside our window every morning. the rabbits hopping across the front lawn at evening. deer in the woods off the road one over. we have to maintain a special balance to be able to see them without driving them

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-69153677437438922422010-09-16T16:48:00.020-04:002010-09-22T17:16:32.331-04:00

warning: there's a pile of photos at the bottom. when someone says jamboree you ought to always at least consider whether you can go. when you hear that there will be steam engines, you decide you can probably go and all that's left is to figure out what time. but when you find out the engines will be older than your grandparents used to be, you kiss the dog goodbye, put on your shoes and get in

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-75989930659011743422010-09-09T12:05:00.008-04:002010-09-10T10:55:31.203-04:00

a graphic and educational depiction of what can happen if the odds are against you.first you decide whether you are person of faith or not. if you are, you do whatever supplicating is necessary to get the attention and favor of your god. you pray or fast or burn a lamb. then you ask for guidance and help on your mission. if you are not a person of faith, take stock of your life so far and

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-75355049617721503252010-09-01T10:56:00.011-04:002010-09-01T11:51:17.583-04:00

when i visited all those cranes and then strolled on down the cobbled street to the fairway, i didn't have a clue what was waiting. i had forgotten how close the place was to the statue of liberty, how anyone could just look out and see manhattan sitting there all shiny and tall. my brain was all abuzz with so much pretty sprawled out there like it was nothing, like it didn't demand notice. i was

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-4051449607004747972010-08-31T16:19:00.024-04:002010-09-03T11:09:08.419-04:00

big up these photos so you can see the birds and all. back of the big blue ikea in red hook, brooklyn you can find cranes. not the birds, although they are likely nearby, but the machines, standing on towering legs like giraffes in windbent high grass. they are scattered all over, on piers, in parking lots, up among the ships. they are the remnants of the demolished todd shipyards, unrescuable

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-60256193559757000782010-08-30T16:53:00.013-04:002010-08-31T13:08:29.788-04:00

back before this country's centennial some folks, including a man named bartholdi, started thinking about and then working on a statue that would be the embodiment of a beautiful democracy, the embodiment of a nation that had survived internal strife and had struck valiant blows against oppression. because building a giant woman (france's part in the celebration) and building a pedestal for her

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-3871082478630411912010-08-20T14:17:00.006-04:002010-08-20T16:00:20.672-04:00

when i pick him up from the dog dentist, guthrie doesn't know who i am. this may or may not be because of an intravenous cephalic catheter dripping valium into him all day. it's possible this catheter kept him anesthetized and the valium got into him some other how, but i can tell you he looked like a lot of moms did back in 1975 or so only without that blue eye shadow. i can tell you he likes

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-58389499843259032362010-08-09T11:03:00.012-04:002010-08-11T18:31:54.020-04:00

there is a 1959 denoyer and geppert pull-down classroom map of the state of new york, physical and political, on the wall of our bedroom. in the top left corner is an inset map of the state's rainfall from april 1 to september 30. (best growing months) whispers the inset. the bottom left corner is a population density map with a dot for every 500 people. bottom right is my own long island, which

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-73674117200120556692010-08-02T14:43:00.000-04:002010-08-05T16:09:05.808-04:00

click photos to enlarge. for a while when i was very little my grandparents ran a sort of motel or maybe a handful of cabins on beaver lake in northwest arkansas just out a bit from rogers. i can tell you now there's not much i thought i remembered about that time other than smells. the smell always of pine-sol from my grandma's cleaning and the similar, but oilier smell of the paints she used to

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-35487868763649860072010-07-27T17:52:00.006-04:002010-07-27T21:59:32.443-04:00

it is just past 5 and the air outside is lurking somewhere near 90 when guthrie and i go out. we head south, toward the park, toward the coolest part of brooklyn. i can hear the girls before i can really see them but when we come up close there are four of them, fairly close in age, with those skinny girl knees sticking out everywhere. one of them is dressed up in some sort of tutu outfit, white

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-23415586992891567092010-07-26T16:43:00.006-04:002010-07-26T18:39:16.398-04:00

things started to change back in the fall when the families started asking about christmas. what do you want? and because we live far away and most folks on both sides don't really get to see us much, don't know how we live our wild lives, we try to be helpful. we try to be creative. but then this year the sweetie said, "what we would like, what we would really like more than anything else in the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-56217370030601726532010-07-22T12:17:00.003-04:002010-07-22T14:45:16.711-04:00

this is supposed to be a story about how the original supernatural nephew took a metal detector to his grandmother and laughed while she beeped like a mine field, but i am selfish and i want it to be about how a nine year old child loves me enough he is smacked in the head by that love while riding in a car, smacked hard enough he has to call and say something to make himself feel better. and i

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-13489851269278207552010-07-19T17:55:00.001-04:002010-07-22T07:15:33.546-04:00

i am at the atlantic center. the atlantic center is what most of brooklyn has instead of a mall. i am in line at a discount department store, more or less, waiting to pay. there are thirteen people in line in front of me and three open registers. register three is occupied by a man who appears to be, fairly successfully, trying to pick up the woman behind the counter. i say this because the

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-50321472170720521102010-07-10T15:43:00.003-04:002010-07-11T08:32:05.212-04:00

our own farm market, just a bit down the road, is in a real live round barn. this is not the only reason we go there. the sweetie can be convinced to mosey on down there almost any saturday as long as someone mentions the word cheese. this is where we buy our summer cheese, or really, most of our cheese from midmay to midoctober. there are cheeses with beer and hops and jalapenos and some with

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-35809599703591903282010-07-09T08:48:00.001-04:002010-07-10T15:41:23.047-04:00

the blue jays who live in our yard are kinder than the blue jays of my childhood, the kind of birds who divebombed unsuspecting dogs with a scream and a flash of blue, leaving tiny specks of red welling up through the fur, who screamed at small children on sidewalks with such violence parents would run out and drag the children back indoors. the blue jays in our yard have never been mean to

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-87553220900121713672010-07-08T08:23:00.011-04:002010-07-08T12:59:01.159-04:00

the other day my brother in law was walking down the steps from his back porch. it’s one of those tall porches into a sloping yard, stairs down fifteen feet or so, wooden. he was taking food down to the dogs, probably, walking out there quickly in the rain. when he stepped onto the first step he didn’t notice the slickness of rainy wood and then that second or third step just jumped right up at

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-46999417087184729482010-07-07T16:31:00.012-04:002010-07-07T19:36:36.427-04:00

the small metal square on the front of the near gate, up close to the latch, says sears. there is a similar metal square on the far gate, though less rounded as i remember, stamped with montgomery ward. the fence itself and both gates come from when your own grandparents were in their heyday, home from overseas, flush with the knowledge that conserving metals and growing their own food had led

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-25724481609006602242010-07-01T11:27:00.006-04:002010-07-01T16:08:04.564-04:00

the wascomat signs might have been here since the fifties, both of them, one boasting the niftiness and perfection of the machines, the other a study in montgomery ward signage, directions on how to operate these newfangled celebrations of technology. and the machines, too. most of the wascomat jr machines have been washing so long the white operating instructions have been rubbed off the brown

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-46513909310091322010-06-22T19:48:00.008-04:002010-06-24T14:41:58.830-04:00

it's close to six fifteen when they walk along the outside of the park. it can be as late as six forty, though. they are two men who are maybe in their fifties or sixties, could be brothers, might be junkies with a shared habit, might even be in love. they have known one another a while and you can tell by looking they would have a hard time, each of them, without the other. they walk from

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-19767820641187132802010-06-20T18:28:00.005-04:002010-06-22T17:55:42.813-04:00

when i was small there was no indication that dad was wild. he seemed so normal- went to work every day at the phone company, went bowling with mom and their friends, played golf with my grandpa on weekends. he sang in church when the rest of us sang and ate dinner with us at night. we sat around a table eating pot roast or pork chops or enchiladas. like we didn't have a wild dad at all. thinking

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-1044075646167738232010-06-11T17:32:00.001-04:002010-06-13T18:48:26.192-04:00

i don't know how old he is but he has a ninth grade english class so maybe he's fifteen. maybe seventeen. he's only shown up three or four times to my first period class, each of those times solemn, at least an hour late. he is always quiet and i tell him i'm glad to see him, though really i don't know him well enough to say, i suppose. i cram books onto his desk like i expect him to do something

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-28304053834817367592010-06-05T13:54:00.011-04:002010-06-05T22:12:17.034-04:00

this is a long, meandering post. i've crammed in as many photos as i could to ease the reading.we see the first deer on the way to breakfast tearing out of the trees and brush on the south side of 28 the way deer do sometimes, without thinking at all, without looking first, even a little bit. it comes out with about nine hundred legs clawing the pavement, scrambling to the other side with an

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-32598295905879684942010-05-30T16:39:00.000-04:002010-06-01T21:07:47.313-04:00

it started the thursday just before, i guess, with one class of ninth graders who managed to show an interest in cat's cradle, a game mentioned in our book. not just interest, i have to explain, but fascination. and so all those pieces of yarn lying on windowsills and in defunct sink and in lockers all around the classroom suddenly tied these children up in little bundles, all crowded around a

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-50415657887192682162010-05-22T18:06:00.007-04:002010-05-23T07:15:02.718-04:00

at ten thirty am i am sitting on the upturned bottom of a fourteen foot johnboat on a grassy median in the parking lot at a large sporting goods store. to be fair, the lot belongs to a variety of large stores but this bit of grass is directly across from the door to the sporting goods store which is where this boat was resting quietly just a few minutes before. the weather is nice and i am all

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-67187512000644308872010-05-19T18:57:00.008-04:002010-05-19T21:45:09.708-04:00

this is what a fine time looks like.

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-80427868780167246352010-05-17T20:38:00.006-04:002010-05-19T21:45:28.732-04:00

we visited our maryland folks this weekend. i never really thought about what it is that makes me love them. i guess i should have known.1. we arrive, like we have before, around midnight. we have driven all the way from the big city with a thunderstorm scrambling to keep itself ahead of us. we bring the rain, just a little, enough to make the mounds of honeysuckle growing all along the fence

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-5062553195964260782010-05-14T17:10:00.001-04:002010-05-14T17:21:03.575-04:00

the drunk man staggers, arms outstretched, a wobbly jesus down from the cross, shakes his paperbagged beer at a little girl who pays him exactly no mind, then trips, veers into the pinkplastic all-the-time yard sale. two men drape across several steps of the stoop and watch him, watch over row after row of toys so filthy no amount of bleach could redeem them. five dollars says a sign attached to

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-10388551001894146802010-05-09T08:18:00.004-04:002010-07-12T17:45:23.102-04:00

my mom never taught me to cook because she thought i was a disaster. i never had that intuitiveness to know what "some" meant in a recipe. she didn't teach me to sew because she didn't really learn herself until she made me a formal dress my senior year of high school. dad taught me to drive after mom realized that a big yellow ford ltd and jj highway and me at almost sixteen was a horrible

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-79870431562492857302010-05-07T16:56:00.003-04:002010-05-07T17:02:49.721-04:00

a few months ago i received a mysterious text message from the middle sister. something about a metal detector and our grandmother. when i looked at it a second time i figured maybe it wasn't from her at all. the original supernatural nephew has a grandmother or two. the story in the text message seemed like it would fit one of those grandmothers in particular. the one who is also my own mother.

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-22673955267512251382010-05-05T16:35:00.003-04:002010-05-05T17:18:31.239-04:00

dear little girls,first let me say it was wonderful to spend the afternoon with you yesterday. you probably don't remember the first time we met, not long after you both had just started breathing air. i had never in my life seen human beings as small as you and most of me was afraid to even be close to such smallness. you looked as if any slight touch could stop you from being and your parents

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-65027671890963725782010-04-29T17:25:00.002-04:002010-04-29T19:21:36.866-04:00

today the eleventh graders came into the room in twos and threes, sat down quietly at their desks and began spreading out their work. this is day two of an exam, written by me to mimic and prepare them for and english exam our state requires that they do not seem to be interested in passing. their desks disappear under photocopies of two or three of the short stories we've read in class, some

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-38835224574577242782010-04-25T16:50:00.000-04:002010-04-26T18:08:34.312-04:00

most weekend days the sweetie and i eat our breakfast out. we don't so much go someplace fancy. we just like going. lately we've been spending our sunday breakfasts at a place in a little town about twelve miles from home. i like the drive because it takes us along a wild creek with a fairly impressive waterfall and, on good days, the largest cow i've ever seen. ever in the world. and i grew up

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-24273667250973393222010-04-23T18:57:00.007-04:002010-04-24T08:02:52.637-04:00

the newer supernatural nephew's sidekick was crying the other day and word on the street is this had to do with me. me and the sweetie. now, i'm not saying folks are saying it's our fault. i'm just saying we were involved. if i had to think about where to lay some blame for the tears of this small child, i'd be looking square in the direction of that supernatural child himself. i'm not saying he

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-57511580169234840192010-04-21T16:52:00.007-04:002010-04-21T20:46:14.962-04:00

yesterday as i am getting ready to step up onto the bus a blustery old man swoops past me and on up the steps. i walk around him and sit down in my seat and he says something loudly and importantly to the driver, then scurries to a seat. this is the terminal end of the route at six thirty in the morning. there is only one other person on the bus. a block from the first stop the man rings the bell

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-40289279949002993972010-04-19T17:37:00.005-04:002010-04-19T18:38:02.142-04:00

we are at the end of our walk, heading up seventh avenue, busy with shops and kids getting out of school and other folks with their dogs snuffling the chewing gum and cigarette butts on the pavement. guthrie has a toy and is focused, staring straight ahead. he knows where we are, knows where to turn and where to cross the street. he is single-minded. i do not notice her at first but she is a

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-55770137733560475012010-04-11T19:03:00.002-04:002010-04-16T15:44:13.861-04:00

warning: this post contains descriptions and photos of wild animal remains. also, the deer photos were taken by the sweetie. i first see the sharp white claw of ribcage when we are driving back from our fishing spot at the old bridge. we hadn’t been fishing, only stopping by to see if the water was still too high and there along the road the whiteness stood out enough to draw my attention from

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-43134807383885900232010-04-02T20:14:00.006-04:002010-04-10T11:42:43.168-04:00

"so, you should cut out gluten," says my doctor, smiling. "try it for a few months... well, six months, and we'll see how it goes." she says this with a smile on her face that suggests i'll survive this experiment but will wish i hadn't. and i smile right back. because in my own mind i do not see myself as a great consumer of bready things. burgers. sandwiches. toast. donuts. these are not things

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-80930225010380787942010-03-31T16:49:00.006-04:002010-04-01T08:12:36.633-04:00

today i walked to manhattan. that's right. on my feet. this is not what i had planned for the day but nothing ever goes as planned. i ended up covering about eight miles. i've mentioned before that my brain is sometimes less than reasonable and today when i need to get from brooklyn to manhattan for an appointment and must cross a very large river to do that my sweet brain assesses the two

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-18122323549814151142010-03-21T21:52:00.010-04:002010-03-21T22:23:34.539-04:00

here are some crocuses and bees. maybe they synchronized their watches last fall. i don't know. but they both knew to be ready while snow was lurking at the edges of the yard. p.s.blow up those last two. you can see the pollen sacs on the legs of that third bee and bee number four blows up to a monster.

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2250921971978972052.post-79536382157951091782010-03-20T15:39:00.010-04:002010-03-21T11:25:03.465-04:00

last time we drove away from our little blue house it was covered with snow and menacing icicles. we hadn't seen the ground in months and couldn't tell where the yard ended and flower beds began. but this morning the sun crawls right up past the 6:30 coldness and starts to get serious. so serious that by the time we sre finished with pancakes and duck watching the outside air feels like something

maskedbadgerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15643375608469236959noreply@blogger.com0