Sunday bunch on the patio, GRAM

(a poem on the occasion of Lisa's 31st birthday)

thin slices of pineapple and melon
taste for ten
beneath walls of glass and concrete
smooth gray squares, 30 feet or higher,
in which our groups' two architects are well-pleased.

see and be seen
by cloud and sky
through rectangle roof cut --
we are out-of-doors but still inside something
that feels to me
like a temple to a cool and quiet god.

nearly bite-sized blueberry muffins,
fruit of the vine and the work of human hands,
cheese and eggs and a glass of water --
we drink it and we thirst again.
and someone takes a picture of embarrassed green eyes smiling,
and someone lightly lays her little finger on the edge
of her husband's hand,
and if I lean back one inch more i will fall over
in this chair,
but it's fun to press your luck and to feel yourself
on the edge of a thing: sometimes temptation for temptation's sake
is the hardest to resist.

two gray-haired women eat at a table ten-yards away
and a half-mile from us a turtle warms on a rock
in the middle of the most modest Grand river.

the things we say are those it occurs to us to say,
the questions we ask are the ones that come to mind,
while your hair curls leisurely at your ears,
blonded by the summer sun
and falls carefree around your shoulders
and down your back.

-M. Lott

(For those who made this weekend so lovely--you know who you are--much love and gratitude.)

me and the boys

with Andrew and Heath outside the church after Ben and Anna's wedding

catch!

Micah and Caleb in Kentucky in June.

the soda dam(n) in the Jemez Mountains

Chris and I went for a truly lovely drive through the Jemez Mountains yesterday. We stopped to stretch our legs a few times, once at the soda dam, where Chris rolled up his sleeves and I stole the iPhone to take a hasty self-portrait.

the Santa Fe Opera

A lovely night with Chris and his mom at the Santa Fe Opera on Wednesday.

Santa Fe or Bust.

I'm heading out to Santa Fe today. The folks at Image Journal were nice enough to give me a grant to attend The Glen, a workshop that's part of the Seattle Pacific MFA program and held in cooperation Image Journal.

While there I'll be staying with Mr. Coucheron-Aamot. So, you know, there will be shenanigans.



Me and Chris in Annapolis a few years ago.

Andrew gets married = everyone dances!

from the March wedding of Andrew and Melissa

the girls are back in town

KT and JD rockin' the Rapids on a recent visit.

less bitter. more sweet.

Yesterday AW and I drove to Ottawa.

And back. (a long drive, a longer story)

AW was along for his combination of mad staying awake late and driving skills and for general moral support. He didn't complain at all when I kept my window open long after the wind and temperature made that ridiculous. Or when I sang along with the music. Or when I asked "what are you thinking?" On the contrary.

And as we slipped back into Michigan under the cover of dark--exactly one year to the day after I'd driven into Michigan with my car full of suitcases and boxes--it felt sweet to be settled into a new home and to have a new friend. And it reminded me of a stanza in the poem ML wrote for me when I moved to GR:

here's a strange thing about the future
(i imagine you've notice this too):
we know its coming
but we don't know what it is.
and here's an impossible thing about the future:
to appreciate fully that some unknown happenings
will befall you

Unknown happenings like a party at which you meet someone new that you just click with, or a night at Founder's where you sit and drink in solidarity with the quiet, or a standing date to read a book together. So, to AW and MD and CM and AD and MD and BN and JD and KD and the entire alphabet in Grand Rapids, it was impossible to appreciate fully how you would move me. Thank you.


typographyphotography.com

bittersweet

It's an odd day. Today.


One of a series of postcards that was passed out at my farewell party June 9, 2007.

have fun storming the castle!

It's been a really lovely long weekend out in Ottawa. We spent most of the hours outside in the backyard where Laura and Mom have the garden in such lovely shape. And where A and M worked some technical magic and set up a slammin' sound system and outdoor theater. There was a lot of grilling, a lot of friends, a little bit of Salsa dancing on the back patio, some hiking and bike riding, some lightening, and even a screening of The Princess Bride under the stars. All my clothes smell like campfire smoke. Which is to say, it's been pretty much a perfect holiday.

another goodbye

My friends Katie and Jes are moving from Grand Rapids to Denver this week. I'll be out of town when they disappear into the sunset, so tonight we'll be sitting in our usual booth at our favorite Mexican joint and drinking some beer and saying goodbye.

Today I can't help but think of the night we said hello when I moved to GR last summer. I wrote this on my "Michigan at Dusk: Experiments in Goodbye" blog shortly thereafter:

One of the things I miss most about being in Chicago is the feeling that the city was mine. We'd been living together for more than 10 years after all. You get to know each other's habits, moods. And you develop a shared circle of friends. I never ceased to be amazed at how often I would run into people I knew when I was out and about in Chicago. Sure. You know you're probably gonna see M at The Perfect Cup in the morning. And R at Cafe DeCarte when she has an afternoon off from school. SS outside Le Bouchon taking a smoke break. But for such a big city, I also frequently bumped into people I knew but wasn't expecting to see. MN and RN at The Empty Bottle a few weeks ago. SP, in from Iowa for a show, at Schubas. JR on the Lake Shore walking path. That crazy girl who lived next door at Moody at Target. I miss that sort of serendipity (and the potential for that sort of serendipity).

As I was driving into my neighborhood after work on Tuesday, I said a small prayer. It was something along the lines of, "God, I would just love to run into someone I know in my neighborhood tonight." It didn't have to be anything major. A mutual head nod to someone I'd seen around. A short chat with someone from work who was out for a walk. And even though I haven't been struggling with the question of whether or not this move was right, I added something like, "It would just be a wonderful confirmation that I'm in the right place."

I pretty much forgot this prayer almost as soon as I said/thought it. Despite the invitation to trust him with the desires of our hearts, I think I was embarrassed about suggesting to God such a specific way in which he could be good to me. He from whom all good things come; he who clearly knows about being good to me (cf. friends and family, the stars in West Texas, My Morning Jacket, Soldiers Bathing by F.T. Prince, the dream job, etc.).

A few hours later I was standing at the counter at Kava House when I heard my name in question form from the direction of the door. "Lisa?" I turned around to see two of my favorite people from college--K and JD--flabbergasted. A flood of exclamations and smiles and hugs followed. JD and K live in my neighborhood and were driving down the street when they saw what they thought was me walk into Kava. So they pulled over. Serendipity.

And as we parted ways--after drinking coffee and iced sodas, with plans to get together and numbers exchanged--I remembered that prayer. A yes, and such an extravagant yes! And I reflexively whispered under my breath that call and response from my Bible church days, God is good? All the time. All the time? God is good.

Before the summer was out I'd moved in with Katie and Jes while waiting for the apartment I wanted to become available (an apartment Katie and Jes had connected me with via an acquaintance with the landlord). I didn't count on their friendship when I made the decision to move here, but now, looking back, it's almost impossible to imagine settling in without them.

I won't be able to attend the official going away party for Katie and Jes, but I've been thinking about the stories that the hostess asked friends to bring. I've been thinking about the late nights we spent at the student newspaper office during which Jes would sing and dance to Sons of the Never Wrong and wrestle with James and fix comma splices. And the Halloween party when Katie showed up at my place in goth garb, with Jes trailing behind, an old woman with a walker and powdered wig who was likely to sit on your lap if given even the briefest opportunity.


Katie and Jes pose with James (the giant) and Donovan (Lenny Kravitz)

I've been thinking about all the laughing. But it's a warming realization that my favorite Katie and Jes story might just be the most recent one, the one that started the night at the Kava House last summer.

Here's to new stories.



Katie and Jes at my 30th birthday party last September.

a birthday

Today is the birthday of W.H. Auden. And also of another person I really dig, M.E. Lott. In celebration of their years, a favorite poem:

If all a top physicist knows
About the Truth be true,
Then, for all the so-and-so's,
Futility and grime,
Our common world contains,
We have a better time
Than the Greater Nebulae do,
Or the atoms in our brains.

Marriage is rarely bliss
But, surely it would be worse
As particles to pelt
At thousands of miles per sec
About a universe
Wherein a lover's kiss
Would either not be felt
Or break the loved one's neck.

Though the face at which I stare
While shaving it be cruel
For, year after year, it repels
An ageing suitor, it has,
Thank God, sufficient mass
To be altogether there,
Not an indeterminate gruel
Which is partly somewhere else.

Our eyes prefer to suppose
That a habitable place
Has a geocentric view,
That architects enclose
A quiet Euchlidian space:
Exploded myths -- but who
Could feel at home astraddle
An ever expanding saddle?

This passion of our kind
For the process of finding out
Is a fact one can hardly doubt,
But I would rejoice in it more
If I knew more clearly what
We wanted the knowledge for,
Felt certain still that the mind
Is free to know or not.

It as chosen once, it seems,
And whether our concern
For magnitude's extremes
Really become a creature
Who comes in median size
Or politicizing Nature
Be altogether wise,
Is something we shall learn.

After Reading a Child's Guide to Modern Physics
by W.H. Auden

New Year's Eve: Hot Tub Edition

Andy had a dream: to have a pool party on New Year's Eve. In Michigan. And he made it happen by essentially constructing a large hot tub in the abandoned pool in his back yard. I was in Chicago so wasn't able to attend, but this has got to be the coolest (or hottest) pool party in my memory. From what I hear, the pool stayed packed pretty much all night with a pretty steady stream of party people. A hot tub, cold drinks, and snow falling--sweet. The video below shows the engineer in action.

New Year's Eve 07: a moment in time

Heath and Thais strike a pose in front of the official backdrop; 2/3 of the prom committee; moving it on the dance floor; some moves just can't be left in high school; Ryan and I had a brief-but-sweet reign as prom king and queen, dancing to Whitney Houston's "One Moment in Time"; Dena and Marissa at the stroke of midnight

ole!

Dena captures the action at The Candy Shop last Saturday, where A and L were the wonderful hosts for Lisa's birthday and Rick taught us all a few Salsa moves.

Drinking with Søren

Tonight some friends and soon-to-be-friends got together at Wealthy (the new Giddy para mi) to kick off a bi-monthly Drinking with Søren gathering. The plan is to read and discuss Kierkegaard while ... you guessed it, drinking. First up: Works of Love. We got off on a jovial foot, probably not properly melancholy enough for Søren actually. But the spirit was much more in keeping with the fact that today is the birthday of my favorite Kierkegaard scholar. Cheers Jennifer!

a weekend to remember

I turned 30 a month ago. The celebration consisted of spending a weekend with people I love at a beach house on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. There was a lot of time on the beach and reading and eating and drinking and a glowing party featuring a concert by the Corn Fed Girls on our final night.























































The lovely illustration was drawn by Laura for the invitation. Pictures taken by Jenn Lockhart, Casey Bernhard, and Lisa Beth Anderson and me.