tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56999894187478593692024-03-13T22:58:48.590-07:00Strange PilgramObservations from a strange place... or maybe it's just me.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.comBlogger364125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-5458601024370263912016-05-25T11:54:00.000-07:002016-05-25T11:54:11.142-07:00wednesday humpty dumpHello Pilgrams! I find myself today, bouncing off the walls of my sick building (there is some serious funk in this old building), eyes to the blue sky out my window. Think I'll go for a stroll through the park and get some fresh(ish) air into me lungs. I've been "richly scheduled" this morning, plus I'm sporting a new haircut, all the makings for a rocking day. Yea yea, I am at work, I do commute, wake at the ass crack of dawn, have a messy house to clean and hungry kids... and it all just makes me want to stand in the courtyard handing out free hugs.<br />
<br />
Good day to ya!Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-50975062374961902412016-05-16T08:20:00.002-07:002016-05-16T08:20:08.402-07:00shashayMmmmmm music. Just love that lift, that pumped up feeling. Injected a bit of "Mr. Blue Sky" radio into my morning and I am FLYING!!! My mind jumps across a psychedelic background of happy energy. Too loud and I don't care. Can we pipe this into the speakers? All your drab, blank faces. Take it!!! Take it!!! Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me...<br />
<br />
Screw it. I'm shashaying today.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-21175388490481828282016-05-10T08:44:00.002-07:002016-05-10T08:44:47.833-07:00Tuesday after too little sleepwake <br />
clothes<br />
coffee<br />
train<br />
drive over the bay<br />
don't crash on the way<br />
b-52s chase off the blues<br />
stretching creaking moan and sigh<br />
wipe that sleep from my eye<br />
maybe if I brush my teeth<br />
I'll find the passion to<br />
live<br />
here<br />
and<br />
nowChristine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-14085768063953627842016-05-04T06:50:00.002-07:002016-05-04T06:50:15.107-07:00Thematic photo: 369Jumping right back in with <a href="https://writteninc.blogspot.com/2016/05/thematic-photographic-369-feeling.html">Written, Inc: Thematic photo: Feeling Nostolgi</a>c<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3mxIV23XCt0/Sw1_zwhbCDI/AAAAAAAABgg/asIvlygpvXgvTlpXmewrhvB9mSiHkzHygCKgB/s1600/DSCN0383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3mxIV23XCt0/Sw1_zwhbCDI/AAAAAAAABgg/asIvlygpvXgvTlpXmewrhvB9mSiHkzHygCKgB/s320/DSCN0383.JPG" width="273" /></a></div>
How I miss Trento. This scene, once so familar. Passed everyday. The sounds, the light. The air was different. Have you felt that? Another city, just the same you, but what you see, breathe, hear and feel is altogether different. Does that make a different you? Do you like that version better? Is it still there when you've moved on? Of course. Well, maybe not. She's lost to time. To a place. And she lives only in nostalgia.<br /><br />Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-22970192795497127512016-05-03T22:07:00.001-07:002016-05-04T06:34:53.628-07:00DriftingHello<br />
I have been lost<br />
No<br />
Buried<br />
Hurried<br />
Well...<br />
Gone too long<br />
And drifting<br />
<br />
Seems like air to my left<br />
And right<br />
Below me<br />
But that streak in the waves<br />
Caught me<br />
Again<br />
And again<br />
<br />
Something real<br />
Not just shadows<br />
Pulled from depths<br />
But solid and alive<br />
Even as my eyes cast recklessly away<br />
At risk of loosing it<br />
And drifting right past<br />
They find it again<br />
And fixated<br />
Here I am<br />
AgainChristine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-64194533544252783912013-05-15T20:29:00.000-07:002013-05-15T20:29:37.026-07:00can't cry when we say goodbyeI smile<br />It doesn't mean I don't care<br />You've changed my life<br />Added points of shining light<br />And that radiates back now<br /><br />Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-59696936036018008862013-05-15T20:27:00.000-07:002013-05-15T20:27:38.452-07:00daydreamerI am so tempted to just move to Amalfi. I love love love that place. Even in gloomy rain. We could a) quit our science careers and move to Amalfi, make enough money doing whatever to survive and never ever leave, or b) keep our science careers, keep living elsewhere, making enough money to travel, invest, explore and retire (early) to Amalfi. When I see it written this way, logic tells me that option (b) is the way to go. But I still daydream about option (a). <br />Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-89966470045623551692013-05-15T20:26:00.001-07:002013-05-15T20:26:54.050-07:0047 things1 I was born in Fort Knox<br />2 I have three younger brothers<br />3 I am 6 feet tall<br />4 My eyes changed color two years ago, from olive green to blue.<br />5 I broke my left pinky in two places while playing basketball.<br />6 I'm an excellent packer (everything from groceries to mini-hatchbacks).<br />7 My favorite children's books are "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pink-Magic-Donna-Jo-Napoli/dp/0618159851/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226914116&sr=1-1">Pink Magic</a>," "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Skippyjon-Jones-Judy-Schachner/dp/0525471340/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226914285&sr=1-4">Skippyjon Jones,</a>" "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Down-Sea-Magee-Chris-Dusen/dp/0811852253/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226914442&sr=1-1">Down by the Sea with Mr. Magee</a>," and "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Loud-Emily-Alexis-ONeill/dp/068984669X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1226914523&sr=1-1">Loud Emily</a>"<br />8 I sing my kids to sleep.<br />9 My family chocolate chip cookie recipe is written on the back of the Nestle chocolate chip package.<br />10 I'd like to teach childbirth education classes.<br />11 I like rain and thunderstorms.<br />12 I wish I spent more time outside. My ideal house would have a large outdoor living space.<br />13 I prefer to leave my armpits hairy.<br />14 As a kid, my birthday dinner was always baked beans, ham and pineapple.<br />15 is my lucky number.<br />16 I breastfed both punks until they were over four years old.<br />17 My secret crush is Mike Rowe.<br />18 I like photographs of feet.<br />19 I prefer to sleep in the cold.<br />20 I love playing basketball, rowing, and rock climbing.<br />21 I like my marshmallows hot, gooey, and browned to a slight crisp on the outside.<br />22 Foods I miss most from the US are Mexican, Indian, Thai, Japanese, and Chinese.<br />23 I play the piano.<br />24 46 sounds SO sexy to me. I'm looking forward to the next decade.<br />25 Some of my favorite movies are <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0107756/">Orlando</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093191/">Wings of Desire</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116293/">Female Perversions</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0237539/">Pane e Tulipani</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0420223/">Stranger than Fiction</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0103874/">Dracula</a>,<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0100519/">Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120601/">Being John Malkovich</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0151582/">Minus Man</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0166896/">The Straight Story</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0106834/">Even Cowgirls Get the Blues</a><br />26 Hubby was my one and only one night stand. I failed miserably.<br />27 I love campfires.<br />28 The first time I went backpacking I froze my ass off, thought about mauling my guide who was draped in fleece, and nearly fainted at the sight of the stars in the night sky.<br />29 My favorite smell is Muir woods.<br />30 Having my arms scratched turns me into pleasure jello.<br />31 I like shopping at Whole Foods.<br />32 I would love to ride an Indian motorcycle while wearing lots of black leather.<br />33 My ability in the culinary arts is up there with the likes of the mother in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088794/">Better Off Dead</a>.<br />34 I have no patience for couch potatoes.<br />35 I prefer pepper over salt.<br />36 Ben & Jerry's is my favorite commercial ice cream.<br />37 Muscles are my favorite seafood.<br />38 September is my favorite month.<br />39 I like to color. With crayons. In coloring books.<br />40 I keep my nails short.<br />41 I don't wear makeup.<br />42 I like the smell of the incense they use during Catholic Mass.<br />43 I believe in the spiritual nature of life.<br />44 I'm more comfortable talking to men.<br />45 I forgive others.<br />46 I think I am lucky.<br />47 For some reason, I've always wanted to visit Morocco.<br />Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-52178372683159750722013-05-15T20:25:00.000-07:002013-05-15T20:25:28.017-07:00three things<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8XTf-zDocKs/SQOHLsNG1ZI/AAAAAAAAAOk/Su78qzam1Jw/s1600-h/Triglyceride-GeneralStructure.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_8XTf-zDocKs/SQOHLsNG1ZI/AAAAAAAAAOk/Su78qzam1Jw/s320/Triglyceride-GeneralStructure.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261197424613315986" border="0" /></a><br />This is the general structure of a triglyceride. Yea, we're chemists here and we like this freaky stuff. Scary looking bugger. All grabby with those long arms and itchy little double bond Os. (Now I KNOW you're starting to doubt that I'm a chemist).<br /><br />Well, if you're up on your tryglycerides, then you know that<br /><br /><b>The National Cholesterol Education Progra</b><b>m guidelines for triglycerides are:</b> <table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="400"><tbody><tr valign="top"> <td bgcolor="#f7f7f7" nowrap="nowrap">Normal</td> <td bgcolor="#f7f7f7" nowrap="nowrap">Less than 150 mg/dL</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>Borderline-high</td> <td>150 to 199 mg/dL</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td bgcolor="#f7f7f7">High</td> <td bgcolor="#f7f7f7">200 to 499 mg/dL</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>Very high</td> <td>500 mg/dL or higher</td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td colspan="2" bgcolor="#f7f7f7"> <p>These are based on fasting plasma triglyceride levels.</p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Of course.<br /><br />My point? you ask...<br /><br />Yeah... well, getting to that.<br /><br />Here's the First Thing. My hubby just found out that his level is 1200.<br /><br /><table style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" width="400"><tbody><tr valign="top"></tr><tr valign="top"><td style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" bgcolor="#f7f7f7" nowrap="nowrap">Normal</td><td bgcolor="#f7f7f7" nowrap="nowrap">Less than 150 mg/dL</td></tr><tr valign="top"><td>Borderline-high</td><td>150 to 199 mg/dL</td></tr><tr valign="top"><td bgcolor="#f7f7f7">High</td><td bgcolor="#f7f7f7">200 to 499 mg/dL</td></tr><tr valign="top"><td>Very high</td><td>500 mg/dL or higher</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Look back at that handy dandy table... normal levels, 150... huh?<br /><br />No. I didn't mis-type that. It's TWELVE HUNDRED!<br /><br />He's a freak of nature. Or a walking heart attack. We've got to take better care of hubby. No more <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2007/06/marlboro_mans_f/">Marlboro Man Sandwiches</a>. I guess you have to <span style="font-style: italic;">actually</span> be a cowboy to eat those regularly.<br /><br /><br />Second Thing...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8XTf-zDocKs/SQOHb5yuvSI/AAAAAAAAAOs/it_J5kpMMH4/s1600-h/7200_blackonyx.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8XTf-zDocKs/SQOHb5yuvSI/AAAAAAAAAOs/it_J5kpMMH4/s320/7200_blackonyx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261197703138688290" border="0" /></a>Nice bike. If you see it around this very north of northern Italian towns, beat the person riding it with your Italian Vogue. Jerk stole it from said hubby from inside our building.<br /><br />Poor hubby. What is the world coming to!!! Now he can't even continue biking those 10 miles a day to keep his triglycerides in check.<br /><br /><br />Third Thing.<br /><br />We get a call from our internet provider that our usage is exceptionally high this month. Well, we've been using it for a year and a half... nothing's new. So, what the...?<br /><br />Turns out they have not billed us (in a year and a half) and we <span style="font-style: italic;">actually</span> have a plan where we need to pay 2 euros/hour during the week. Weekends are free. That's why they've named it the <span style="font-style: italic;">FREE</span> plan.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">telephone guy:</span> you've got the "Free" plan, right?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">hubby:</span> yea, that sounds right.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">telephone guy:</span> ok, well, that's 2 euros/hour.<br /><br />Wait. What the ...?<br /><br /><br /><br />So, later, hubby, distressed says... "oh, what's next... I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">dying</span>, my bikes been <span style="font-style: italic;">stolen</span>, we <span style="font-style: italic;">owe</span> thousands of euros to the internet slime balls... what <span style="font-weight: bold;">else</span> is going to happen?!?!"<br /><br />And this is where, I assuredly tell him, with my all american good sense,<br /><br />That's three things. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</span> else bad is going to happen. <span style="font-style: italic;">These things come in threes</span>, of course, as all we optimistic gomer smiling, good americans <span style="font-weight: bold;">all</span> know. You're done. Kaput. That's it. Finito! Not so bad, right?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8XTf-zDocKs/SQO92ImhkRI/AAAAAAAAAO0/nZcQR8qumoI/s1600-h/011608-igor-young-frankenstein.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_8XTf-zDocKs/SQO92ImhkRI/AAAAAAAAAO0/nZcQR8qumoI/s320/011608-igor-young-frankenstein.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261257527418523922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Could be worse...<br />Could be raining...<br /><br /><br /><br /><table style="width: 8px; height: 130px;" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr valign="top"><td bgcolor="#f7f7f7" nowrap="nowrap"><br /></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td><br /></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td bgcolor="#f7f7f7"><br /></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td><br /></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td colspan="1" bgcolor="#f7f7f7"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-243702014144674182013-05-15T20:22:00.000-07:002013-05-15T20:22:59.378-07:00sbaglio... mistake<br />
My italian is riddled with them<br />
broken and gasping through the discussion of our evening plans<br />
what we "will" do expressed as what we "are" doing<br />
the ten year old patiently corrects my conjugation<br />
again<br />
My hardened brain<br />
I imagine it something like the brains you see floating in glass jars<br />
Rubberized by the American formaldehyde bubble<br />
These sbiglii (?) are one of many weak defenses I have<br />
As my children bob along in the soap<br />
They were American, then Italian, and now American again<br />
Simply comfortable with their reality<br />
Accepting what it presented to them<br />
I'm the only one that sees the past and future<br />
And blinds herself with panic of what will be lost<br />
Or gained.<br />
<br />
And in defense of my sanity<br />
I put up blinders and try to see what they see for a time.<br />
All is not lost<br />
They still are what they were<br />
They are evolving, still rich with experiences we worked so hard to give them<br />
Distinctly suffering through their mother's broken Italian<br />
And I see they are fine<br />
And I am also<br />
And sbaglii are essential to where I am<br />
Where I want to go.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-4458138593789847122013-05-15T20:20:00.000-07:002013-05-15T20:20:48.169-07:00they let anyone do thisIrresponsible parenting:<br /><br />When no one can sleep at 2:37 am, you all go out for donuts.<br />Starting school holidays a day early just because everyone has had enough.<br />Watching "The Office" wednesday afternoons with your 7 year old.<br />Disco dancing in the living room when you really should be getting ready for school.<br />Leaving the Grandparents to babysit via Skype.<br />Agreeing with your second grader that his English teacher is indeed an idiot.<br />Kissing attacks as a form of punishment.<br />Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-43652425671361606432012-02-27T04:30:00.001-08:002012-02-27T04:41:04.079-08:00dark closetStuffed with wool coats<br />
It's quiet and dark<br />
A safe little space<br />
For big dreamers to park<br />
<br />
Ships sailing seas<br />
Across wide stretches of blue<br />
Far foreign faces<br />
I know to be true<br />
<br />
Now that I'm reaching far<br />
Fetching dreams of my past<br />
I'm hiding in closets with<br />
New questions to ask<br />
<br />
Not yet so sure of myself<br />
As I should<br />
I seek dark quiet spaces<br />
And the graces of goodChristine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-73455218530470369242012-02-10T07:05:00.000-08:002012-02-10T07:07:01.277-08:00go fish!Punkone was sick this week.<br />
Yea, remember him? Sweet little guy is in FIFTH grade. Yeoza. He's so amazing, such a sweet soul and seeming in a constant struggle to cope with the crap that life dishes out.<br />
<br />
Sounds a bit jaded, I know.<br />
<br />
But the US version of 4th and 5th grade have not been easy on this guy. More specifically, homework is sucking his will to live. As you can imagine, this doesn't sit well with me and I keep myself up a good many hours, devising how I might reverse the tide and inject the joy back into our weekday nights.<br />
<br />
OK, so just for clarity... this isn't about "do your homework" kind of stress. This kids does his homework. He's organized, he plans ahead, and just gets to it. It's amazing to me he's related to me at all.<br />
<br />
This is about having our time as a family being delegated to providing a right environment for him to do homework in. The environment that we spend a great deal of energy shaping to mean "family" for us. The space where we share stories, act silly, discuss news, laugh at bodily functions, connecting with each other in a way that only we can.<br />
<br />
School has him all day. So, yes, it irritates me that it hedges in on my time with him. It irritates me that we can't have a few hours, everyday, in which we do just what we damn well please.<br />
<br />
We're evolving. I got us a huge dining room table and it's surrounded by boxes of pencils, glue sticks, rulers, scratch paper... we sit around it all night and chug away at our homework together. We still act silly, discuss, and laugh at our farts. But we all have a bit of sadness in our hearts. A longing for nights when we could sit around the table and play a game of "go fish!"Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-24914264822722561242012-02-09T07:52:00.000-08:002012-02-10T06:27:53.554-08:00U - Oumbrella open<br />
colors cast<br />
respite in the rain<br />
with you at last<br />
<br />
<br />
ombrella aperto<br />
i colori sono cascada<br />
riposo nella pioggia<br />
finalmente con teChristine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-68114550959459910302012-02-08T20:14:00.000-08:002012-02-09T07:53:51.107-08:00you don't win friends with saladThis <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aM6xVQwIOYQ">tune</a> plays through my head<br />
As I reach for the salad tongs<br />
Pile high the spinach leaves<br />
And then almost a bit giddy<br />
Pick my way through the bar...<br />
Beets (always!), carrots, celery<br />
Beans and seeds<br />
Cabbages too, both red and blue<br />
No, not blue<br />
Potatoes, asparagus, mushrooms<br />
Slightly steamed broccoli and cauliflower<br />
Radishes to salt<br />
Drop of guacamole on top<br />
Maybe you can't win friends with salad<br />
But I love making friends with meChristine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-82458993815580254952012-01-27T21:17:00.000-08:002012-01-27T21:17:15.351-08:00an exercise in optimismleaving at 5 am gets me home by 4<br />
there's no traffic<br />
my neighbor waits patiently at the door<br />
she calls me sweety<br />
Starbucks is open<br />
And I like driving at night<br />
tunnel of light through darkness<br />
gives me time to think<br />
or indulge in a daydream<br />
<br />
and about 4 o'clock<br />
we weave and we talk<br />
through paths and events of the day<br />
two beautiful faces so happy to see me<br />
and one a bit later slides his key in the door<br />
although there is much that I miss <br />
I can't quite complain as there's nothing I long for.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-75554942584443800552011-09-13T07:17:00.000-07:002011-09-13T07:17:34.518-07:00distractedA litany of something in the background<br />
What was it?<br />
"Replace the letter or letters with the letter or letters..."<br />
"What fraction of boys is the least..."<br />
Or something... you lost me at the second letter.<br />
I'm staring at a brick and feeling very good about it.<br />
This is a nice size brick<br />
Painted white.<br />
How odd... I generally don't like the look of painted bricks.<br />
But there is something about this brick<br />
Something unifying, well known.<br />
Hello brick. Have we met?<br />
Stare into it like it understands.<br />
Can you read my thoughts?<br />
I decide I'm certain that it can.<br />
The brick sees all.<br />
Sees the meltdown, smackdown, the lowdown<br />
But still it stays.<br />
I get the sense that the brick gives us the benefit of the doubt.<br />
Knows our good intentions.<br />
Is sure of love and lasting.<br />
<br />
Or maybe just lacks the ability to go.<br />
But no<br />
I don't feel anguish or desperation<br />
Or even the absence of a thing<br />
The feeling is good<br />
This is accepting<br />
Even pleased.<br />
<br />
"...underlined letter or letters and write the new word"<br />
Like brick, trick, trip, slip, ship, shape, sea, swell, breathe, sigh, neigh...<br />
Sorry. What?Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-5150230249321013672011-08-30T09:57:00.000-07:002011-08-30T09:57:37.846-07:00diffractionWhen things are right<br />
I see rays of light dance across the bay<br />
Music carries my day<br />
I’m right at home<br />
At home in my heart<br />
And I rightly shine<br />
Until I don’t<br />
<br />
When things are right<br />
Morning light marks the new day<br />
Bringing the come what may<br />
The world seems lush green<br />
And wills my being<br />
Until it won’t<br />
<br />
When you and I are right<br />
I am never happier in the worst of storms<br />
The world and I get along fine<br />
I can be what I am<br />
Am what I be<br />
That is<br />
until<br />
I’m not<br />
Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-13219982607808311432011-08-23T04:08:00.000-07:002011-08-23T04:08:03.841-07:00face of the earth<i>A left and a right and a left-hop-skip<br />
I think I've gone and hopped right off it</i><br />
<br />
I've let myself dive into the persistent cloud-cover,<br />
feeling the gray and gloomy days.<br />
While lush mountains with their woolly green coats<br />
flock the sulking Shepard.<br />
Who sits on her rock and consoles her heart<br />
drawing rivers with a stick in the mud<br />
You see, the earth and the rain are playing a game<br />
coaxing this crab from her shell.<br />
For sit long enough on the most comfortable rock<br />
and your bony ass will get sore<br />
And your numb bum and the soft filtered sun<br />
will cause you to stretch and to eye (unawares)<br />
Whereupon Mother Kesey and her gang of merry pranksters<br />
Swiftly sneeze you into the sky.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-49079521749845569782011-08-19T22:33:00.000-07:002011-08-19T22:35:33.132-07:00punkette me ditMy mash up of Punkette and MIKA:<br />
<br />
<iframe width="400" height="255" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NiHWwKC8WjU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
And she says<br />
why do these stairs hate me?<br />
why do I fall down so much?<br />
world has gained up on me!<br />
<br />
And she says<br />
I have so many scrapes<br />
look here's another four<br />
it's true her knees are cut and bruised<br />
<br />
And she says<br />
I don't want to play or jump<br />
I just keep getting hurt<br />
I try but then the world fights back<br />
<br />
And she says<br />
I give up on this world<br />
Can I watch another show<br />
The couch is the only safe place for me<br />
<br />
And she says<br />
as she bites the dust<br />
as she hits the floor<br />
you'll come give her wings<br />
to go back for more<br />
<br />
as she get's fed up<br />
and needs to scream and shout<br />
you'll shout with her too<br />
and show her what to do<br />
<br />
get up! jump to your feet<br />
get up! come feel the beat<br />
get up! feel the beat<br />
Dance! dance! dance!<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
<br />
Really, just an excuse to post MIKA's latest release ;) Danse!<br />
Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-41163580131510670892011-08-18T12:49:00.000-07:002011-08-18T12:49:17.452-07:00dreamsI have dreams.<br />
Dreams of scaling El Capitan<br />
Clamped to the edge of the world,<br />
Drifting at the edge of space.<br />
Dreams of tall pines and sap on my fingers<br />
The sting of scraped knees and my breath<br />
Caught as we sway with the wind.<br />
Or being old and weaving loose ends<br />
The loose ends of a fortunate life.<br />
Loose ends that slip into a comfortable knit<br />
With an old friend with the right loose ends.<br />
Dreams of being unknown<br />
But knowing myself<br />
Just driving off in a new direction<br />
And being exactly what I feel like being.<br />
Or spinning these things<br />
Bits of death and love and reaching far places<br />
With an unseen touch into the web.<br />
Into the ebb, into the bed,<br />
Into... and<br />
Out of my head.<br />
I will not live in dreams<br />
But dreams are the thing.<br />
The things that fill up the vast empty spaces<br />
An oil that carries heat from the fire<br />
To everything cold<br />
To everything real.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-31676660903819366412011-08-01T11:15:00.000-07:002011-08-18T17:32:16.055-07:00laying tracksSun shines off rails<br />
Grass crisp to golden<br />
And I imagine the clang from cow bells<br />
Across the dusty path on some Italian mountain top<br />
My body is the vessel I use bring myself into work in the morning<br />
Back through the door at night<br />
But I am the cool shadows<br />
Rainbows cast through the air that sits on the edge of leaves<br />
Those colors in my eyes<br />
Breathing in the sun<br />
The urge to dance in public<br />
I am the same in any language<br />
In any place<br />
Its still me<br />
Seeing sleeping bears in the hills<br />
Willing to climb all the way to the very top<br />
Just to slide down<p>- ChristineChristine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-63217603514261379322011-06-28T17:28:00.000-07:002011-08-18T17:42:13.244-07:00think I canReposted from "Gram at 5AM"<br />
<br />
I like the train.<br />
Sort of the same way I like wooden bowls or handmade baskets<br />
Spice racks<br />
This strikes me as strange.<br />
Trains symbolize technology<br />
Steel, speed<br />
But from an era gone by.<br />
And my pace on the train is slow<br />
I notice things along the track.<br />
The kinds of trees, where pools are or hovels hidden away from the street.<br />
Old telephone poles left to stand with their scraps of cable cut.<br />
I study the landscape the way you might examine the yarn you chose for knitting.<br />
Riding the train gets me thinking about home and what's for dinner. Something served at the table with placemats and napkins. Ready for love and quality time.<br />
It's all quality time.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-86921911074836903792011-06-18T06:21:00.000-07:002011-08-18T18:29:44.301-07:00shadow run<br />
<br />
This morning was tough. Lots of reasons to stay in bed. My half-assed enthusiasm getting out the door was made up for by a mad dash from the car to train. I hope I remembered to turn off my lights.<br />
<br />
The light now makes the world look like it has been cut out on black construction paper and lit from behind. Like that siloette of my brothers head he made in the second grade. The sky is a swirl of light blue and grey; everything else is still black as night.<br />
<br />
Reposted from "Gram at 5AM"Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5699989418747859369.post-33118304734589722962011-05-01T21:25:00.000-07:002011-05-01T21:35:57.541-07:00summer daysWow.<br />Seems I blinked April away. How did that happen? I'm now sunburned and ready to collapse in the bed at night with beaten muscles and a clear head.<br /><br />I am loving our block. It's not exactly like where I grew up, but reminiscent of it. Kids play in the street, tag and hide and seek spills over into neighbor yards... I can tell my kids to "go outside and play" and they do, drawing neighbor kids out for random fun.<br /><br />And I'm playing catch or basketball or tag right along with them. When do Moms stop doing this? I can't remember the last time I saw another Mom shooting hoops or playing catch with her kids. Did I miss a memo? Is there some etiquette book somewhere that I didn't bother to read? Oh I'll chat it up as much as the rest of the Mom's on the block, but I can't resist an invitation to play ball with one of my kids.<br /><br />The happy result is a sunburnt and beaten body. Plus two kids that took all of about 2 minutes to fall asleep tonight. I think I'll join them.Christine Gramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13783180729146518061noreply@blogger.com1