“Uh-huh, Uh-huh, Yo, Yo…”

Archive for April, 2010

photo of the day

photo by la

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love list lunes #16

Sí, hoy es lunes.

I love big, chubby babies. Look at my sister’s own fat one.

What’s on YOUR love list today?


For the love of words #4

photo by el jefe

“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.”

~Bob Dylan

Did you feel the rain today? I did, but only for so long until I got too wet.


love list lunes #15

ok, hoy es martes.  whateves.

I love my great, huge, monstrous, stinking ginormous familia.

I love my siblings: the ones with friendly eyes, or the ones with mischievous grins, or the ones with quick wit, or the ones with contagious laughs, or the ones with pleasant conversation, or the ones with kind hearts, or the ones with logical brains, or the ones that are plain goofy, or the ones with beautiful smiles, and I could go on.

I love their husbands and wives: their straight talk, their laughter, their kindness, their wisdom, their subtle humor, their big hearts, their hard work, their chattiness, their jokes…again, I could go on.

And, I love their children.

Oh, how I love my nieces and nephews! They are all awesome. All forty-two of them (forty-two?! I hope that’s right). Sometimes I wish I could have been born in their generation so I could be surrounded by so many cool cousins.   But lucky are my kids who get them as cousins.  So lucky.

photo by el jefe

This summer I hope to sit around one of these with my family again.

photo by el jefe

In the mean time I suggest they gather round their computers and warm themselves by this blog post.

What’s on your love list today?


Writing prompt #1: “Where are you from?”

Where I’m From

(an exercise in imagery)


I am from rough cedar walls
that gave me a sliver if I rubbed them the wrong way.
I am from pomegranates as big as my head,
nibbling and savoring tiny seeds, dripping its red juice
in the grass and shadows of Autumn afternoons.
I am from jars and jars,
shelves upon shelves
of canned peaches and apricots-
their orange flesh pressed against the bumpy glass signature of “Ball” or “Mason” .
I’m from rolling down grassy hills, avoiding metal sprinklers at all costs,
and landing at the bottom wrapped in laughter and itchy grass.
I’m from an oasis, standing in the middle of the desert,
but you’ll find, instead of palm trees, they’re mostly fruit,
and instead of a freshwater pond, a pool surrounded with hot cement and brown tile,
and two automatic pool sweepers named “Bill” and “Ted”.

I am from dancing in the family room
to Captain and Tennille records
following the lead of my tall, lanky sister teaching me to find my first “moves.”
I am from Barbie afternoons and Fisher Price mornings,
from architectural masterpieces made from books and blocks
from forts of purple blankets,
(or, big brother traps for innocent baby sisters),
I am from a playroom, long and skinny, filled with toys, books, and magic.

I am from whole wheat and honey, peanut butter, and orange juice.
I am from sizzling onions crackling in my ears and wafting past my nose in the anticipation of dinner.
I am from kneeling with arms folded and then a tumultuous race to the table,
from licking my plate to call my “spot”
but still ending up with my small frame shoved to the middle,
sandwiched between at least two bodies on each side
on that long sturdy wood bench,
no way out.
I am from defending my food from older brothers.
I am from eating my vegetables in order to get dessert and crossing my fingers
in hopes that it didn’t have nuts or raisins.

I am from splashing and kicking,
from Marco and Polo,
from sharks and sardines,
from living a second life as a fish.
I am from loud, playful days and hushed cricket nights
with Mom’s final warnings of bedtime, checking each child down the row.
I am from the number ten.
I am from a place holding both love and chaos,
a wooden sculpture forever imprinted on my mind.
There, sitting at 3440 East Harmon, I am from trees and grass and water:
a large house of brick and cedar wood that sometimes
sneaks into my dreams,
blowing the familiar wooded scent through my mind,
flooding it with a thousand memories.

by Laura Archibald

Where are you from?


photo of the day

photo by la


For the love of words #3

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in, forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day, you shall begin it well and serenely.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Goodnight April 14th, 2010, I will let go of all my blunders,   including the time that I lost my temper.  I will remember the good things, like the exact moment, from my kitchen table, I noticed that my six year old can reach the kitchen sink to turn it on (when did that happen?)  and how my 4 year old wrote a “book” about seeds that grew into flowers because “flowers are the best and rule the world.”  I will remember that it was a sunny beautiful day and even though my back patio needs some major attention my children still had fun riding their bikes.  Goodbye Today, thank you for your time.

What do your tomorrows hold?