SpazzleNET

Archive for March, 2007

And so I gave the site a new look. I was tired of looking at that silly old picture from last spring, so I revamped and ended up using another springy/summery picture. It felt like spring a few days ago, but that’s kinda in the crapper now considering theres a good bit of snow, sleet and ice all over the place.

Golf started last week when it was actually spring. I’m really excited for the upcoming season…the girls are all a lot of fun and we have a lot of matches scheduled already. Plus Biddy told Kris and I that he was going to name us captains even though he hasn’t done it officially. It’s nice to finally have a captainship under my belt after that whole volleyball nightmare…but yes, it should be fun. My goal is to shoot 100 consistently and to learn how to hit out of the sand because I’m awful at it…my game is done if I get in it haha.

I just watched the movie Cider House Rules…it was pretty good. I remember wanting to watch it when I was younger, but my mom said it would be sad so she wouldn’t let me rent it. I like Tobey Maguire’s acting. Earlier today I was watching season 3 of 24 which I never finished over Christmas Break. I need to finish it! I haven’t had the patience to sit around and watch it nonstop though, so I’m hoping the urge hits me sometime soon.

Alright well it’s 1…and I’m heading off to bed. Toodaloo.

Oh wait, Happy St. Patrick’s Day and Happy early Birthday Adam!! : )

So, I was looking through old pictures of the family and I found this one of me at Disney…I had just turned 3 a couple days before this was taken. Anyways, I decided that Chip and Dale still scare the absolute crap out of me today.

So I read this poem in Lit, and I figured since it was the first poem I every truly enjoyed I’d put it up. So…that’s that.

Sorting Laundry
Folding clothes,
I think of folding you
into my life.

Our king-sized sheets
like tablecloths
for the banquets of giants,

pillowcases, despite so many
washings, seems still
holding our dreams.

Towels patterned orange and green,
flowered pink and lavender,
gaudy, bought on sale,

reserved, we said, for the beach,
refusing, even after years,
to bleach into respectability.

So many shirts and skirts and pants
recycling week after week, head over heels
recapitulating themselves.

All those wrinkles
To be smoothed, or else
ignored; they’re in style.

Myriad uncoupled socks
which went paired into the foam
like those creatures in the ark.

And what’s shrunk
is tough to discard
even for Goodwill.

In pockets, surprises:
forgotten matches,
lost screws clinking the drain;

well-washed dollars, legal tender
for all debts public and private,
intact despite agitation;

and, gleaming in the maelstrom,
one bright dime,
broken necklace of good gold

you brought from Kuwait,
the strangely tailored shirt
left by a former lover?

If you were to leave me,
if I were to fold
only my own clothes,

the convexes and concaves
of my blouses, panties, stockings, bras
turned upon themselves,

a mountain of unsorted wash
could not fill
the empty side of the bed

Elisavietta Ritchie