For Me: Poem of the Day "The Waking"

Yesterday, Emma and I made a poshmark (love) sale to someone whose code name is "wake to sleep." This reminded me of the Theodore Roethke poem. I never teach this because in my department, courses in English lit (and that is where I'm at) can NOT include anything outside that category. No boundary violations!* No thematic courses! So I found my book, sat down, and read the poem over and over, as I used to do all the time, and still sometimes do. And should do more.

*All cultures have boundary conventions. In Paris, Tom and I wandered through Monoprix and a grocery store looking for aspirin. Non! Only available in pharmacies--behind the counter. 

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   

I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.   

I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?   

I hear my being dance from ear to ear.   

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?   

God bless the Ground!   I shall walk softly there,   

And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?   

The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;   

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do   

To you and me; so take the lively air,   

And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.   

What falls away is always. And is near.   

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   

I learn by going where I have to go.

   This is a villanelle. In a good one, the pattern of repeated lines always makes me teary-eyed (why, I do wonder). This is a good one. The last two lines come together with the beauty of inevitability, or perhaps, the inevitability of beauty.

Notes for Myself: What They Were Wearing in Paris summer 2018

No guarantee of complete sentences or thoughts--this is for me.

--Off shoulder dresses and tops on all ages
--Sneakers
--more yellow than usual, but not THAT much more

In my neighborhood (15eme): beautiful African fabric garb, long dresses and headpieces.

The ubiquitous Pliage bags of several years back are less in evidence. Main designer bags seen: Chanel, on tourists in the Louvre (perhaps a Paris purchase?)
Most beautiful bag: a malachite green Hermes kelly bag on a woman in headscarf and nondescript long clothing--at the Louvre.
Most chic women: Asian women with beige and black puzzle bags. The reason these looked so good--puzzle lines picked up black straight hair; beige picked up neutral architectural PLAIN clothing.
Best dressed--again in Louvre--couple with reverse tee shirts, positive and negative of same image.
Most powerful looking: a white couple in expensive attire surrounded by young black men in formal attire. Opposite the Presidential Palace. Tried to figure out  what was going on. No idea.
Runners up for most powerful: the men (all men) standing outside the Senate near the Luxembourg Gardens. The men (again, all men) standing outside the elite schools (esp Something Po) smoking.

My purchases: two identical tencel denim dresses at Monoprix, the first 25 euros and the second on further markdown our last morning at 15 euros. These loose dresses have saved me this hot summer,
--lightweight low quality viscose leggings @3 euros each. I returned to the market for a second pair. The seller--originally from Pakistan--remembered me. I practiced my French and he practiced his English. I said (in French/English) that we would perhaps see him next year.

He said, "If God gives us life."

I hope so.

Margaret Atwood Robber Bride

Not a very good book, alas. I do like Blind Assassin. Opened to the right page though: 262.


Karen/Charis 262

Once she went back to the farm, her grandmother's farm, she wanted to see it. But it wasn't a farm anymore; it was a subdivision. Charis tried not mind, since nothinbg that was or had been would perish,, and the farm was still inside her;it was still hers because places belonged to the people who loved them

Musings--complete sentences/thoughts not required.
No comments--this is for me.

Thinking about moving/retiring

Students--mostly weak ones--handing in stuff late--too late--begging for "points." End of semester chaos. One of "best" students in class told me he hadn't read the work he wrote his paper on--just a few pages. Always "what's it all about." Have to slog though all this late work making little check marks. Then recording online. Lots of opportunities for error.


JF-old friend--pointed out a while ago that we had no need to live in town we live in. Educated and affluent (for poor and uneducated state)--decent schools which we augmented with enrichments (diy0. Heavily Republican area and I am not happy with day to day life. Katha Pollitt essay on "one year in": "I hate people."Me too. (Don't feel that way re students though). So if we retired we might have to move. One of Emma's friends called it a toxic environment.

Then--errand jaunt--mailed 15 books for Emma and deposited two checks--ran into beautiful tall Bonnie--"friend" from thrifting. Had not seen her for a few years. Artist/horse career. Husband also artist--worked for Blaine Kern designing Mardi Gras floats. Whispered--did you vote for T? She said No in horror. So one kindred spirit.

Things I like to do that I couldn't do if I retired: teach Paradise Lost, teach Donne's poetry, teach sonnets of various sorts...truly a transporting experience. Oh yeah--teach Araby and The Dead by Joyce. I teach lots of other things--but these put me in state of bliss.

Things we can do if we retired: live abroad for 3-4 months. But we can do that anyway--at least up to 10 weeks.

A Commercial Moment: We Heart Poshmark

I let this blog fall into a moribund state because I felt that whatever I had to say about frugality, I had said. But also--and this was a secret--because my daughter and I discovered Poshmark. Poshmark fulfilled one of my fashion/cheapitude fantasies: that all the people who lived near Eileen Fisher outlets, or found the stuff I wanted at thrift stores could get it to me at a not unreasonable price. We tried some of the others (Twice Clothing, Tradesy) but they either went out of biz or became outlets for large commercial concerns.

Poshmark worked for us. As usual with me, things got out of hand. Emma and I sold our stuff, and then....stuff for relatives and friends. And then we also bought things...mostly Eileen Fisher. My cravings for EF have finally subsided. I have enough. So does my daughter, who has a very snazzy wardrobe for someone who is at the beginning of an art career.

Also: I have stopped going to thrift stores and so--surprise--am finally making some headway with the clutter I have amassed.

HERE IS THE COMMERCIAL PITCH. If you use my referral code--marcelproust--after my husband's literary obsession, you get $5 off and WE GET $5 in credit. Other than my Paula's Choice (love!) hawking, this is my only toe-dip into commercialism.

With my usual ineptitude, I am doing  it at a point when I have ALMOST NO READERS.

But just in case you want to try: poshmark.com

Et moi, marcelproust!

Pillow Case

Ceci n'est pas a blog, folks.
I've been writing about various trivial things and will post here as I complete. They are for me.
Older posts remain.

Note to self and universe: I have had to give up thrift stores for the greater good of decluttering. It is tough. Approaching 6 months.


Another difficult part of my decluttering process is LINENS. I love percale sheets, the kind that used to be ordinary and are now impossible to find--200 or so thread count COMBED cotton percale. So I pick them up when I see them. Since they are white, they can be bleached. If one cares. I do not.

I have such linens bursting out of baskets in the few storage areas of my old house. I made a pile, Marie Kondo style.

Well, I didn't get rid of many. I have a lot. Everything sparked joy, sadly. Even the old Cannon twin sheets marked with a hospital laundry code. I figure I won't have to buy linens again for the rest of my life. I did separate by size and function.

My best surprise was at the bottom of a pile. It was a king size case (I don't have a king bed or pillow). Of course, I have no recollection of buying it. It was yellowed. It felt so good. I peered inside to see if there was a label. There was: D Porthault. A $200 pillow case. I imagine its mate was thrown out because of some minor damage and the orphan went to the thrift store where it was sold for 99 cents. 

I washed it and put it on my pillow, a down pillow that was likewise thrifted after I learned that you can wash down items in the machine in hot water. You can. There are loads of down pillows available because pillows have the "EWWWW" factor written about by many thrifting experts. The pillow case looked ridiculous as it is way too big for the pillow. My pillow will not be featured in Architectural Digest. 

Still, it felt delicious.

Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,

The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, 

Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 

Chief nourisher in life's feast.

Paradise Lost, Book 7

though fallen on evil days,	25
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues,
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone