Monday, August 25, 2008

post-it note

now, if you'll excuse me,
i've got to escape 
this dreary and bleak outlook:

please forward all my calls,
water my flowers,
and if you just must reach me,
you can find me lying on a beach
on the coast of turkey
sucking up the 
final moments of summer.

Friday, August 22, 2008


then there are
those people in the world
(like that grandma who lives upstairs from us)
who are lucky enough
to be able to set the standard
for enviable tresses.

and make the rest of us feel like
i've just got
to get a hairpiece. . .

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


gosh, and there i was
all worried to be
showing my 3-year-old
"adult situations"
in that first batch of movies 
i ever bought for her.
beloved nannies flying away,
cackling wicked witches,
bad guy threatening to kill little redhead. . .
at none of these did she flinch.

but that innocent little show
about the boy and his red balloon?

worry & tears 

turned to flat out hysterics.
why was he letting go of his balloon???

no words to console.
the movie had to be cut short,
for fear of forever traumatizing
my 3-year-old.
by the little boy who just wouldn't
grab that dang balloon.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

excerpt du jour

from Dorothy Parker's 
The Waltz

"Why, thank you so much.  I'd adore to.

I don't want to dance with him.  
I don't want to dance with anybody.  
And even if I did, it wouldn't be him.  He'd be well
down among the last ten.  I've seen the way he dances;
it looks like something you do on Saint Walpurgis Night.
Just think, not a quarter of an hour ago,
here I was sitting, feeling so sorry for the poor girl
he was dancing with.  And now I'm going to be the poor girl.
Well, well.  Isn't it a small world?

And a peach of a world, too.  A true little corker.  
It's events are so fascinatingly unpredictable,
are not they?  Here I was, minding my own business,
not doing a stitch of harm to any living soul.
And then he comes into my life, all smiles
and city manners, to sue me for the favor
of one memorable mazurka.  
Why, he scarcely knows my name, let alone
what it stands for.  It stands for
Despair, Bewilderment, Futility, Degradation,
and Premeditated Murder, but little does he wot.
I don't wot his name, either; I haven't any idea what it is.
Jukes, would be my guess from the look in his eyes.
How do you do, Mr. Jukes?  And how is that dear
brother of yours, with the two heads?

Ah, now why did he have to come around me,
with his low requests?  Why can't he let me lead my 
own life?  I ask so little--just to be left alone
in my quiet corner of the table, to do my
evening brooding over all my sorrows.
And he must come, with his bows and his scrapes and his 
may-I-have-this-ones.  And I had to go and tell him
that I'd adore to dance with him.
I cannot understand why I wasn't struck right down dead.
Yes, and being struck dead would look like a day
in the country, compared to struggling out a dance
with this boy.  But what could I do?  
Everyone else at the table had got up to dance,
except him and me.  There I was, trapped.
Trapped like a trap in a trap.

What can you say, when a man asks you to dance 
with him?  I most certainly will not dance
with you, I'll see you in hell first.
Why, thank you, I'd like to awfully,
but I'm having labor pains.  Oh, yes,
do let's dance together--it's to nice
to meet a man who isn't a scaredy-cat
about catching my beri-beri.
No.  There was nothing for me to do, but say
I'd adore to.  Well, we might as well get it
over with.  All right, Cannonball, let's 
run out on the field.  You won the toss;
you can lead.

Why, I think it's more of a waltz, really.
Isn't it?  We might just listen
to the music a second.  Shall we?
Oh, yes, it's a waltz.  Mind?  Why, I'm 
simply thrilled.  I'd love to waltz with you.

I'd love to waltz with you.  I'd love to 
waltz with you.  I'd love to have my tonsils out,
I'd love to be in a midnight fire at sea.
Well, it's too late now.  We're getting under way.
Oh.  Oh, dear.  Oh, dear, dear, dear.
Oh, this is even worse than I thought
it would be.  I suppose that's the
one dependable law of life--
everything is always worse than you
thought it was going to be.  

Monday, August 18, 2008

in season

i only remember doing it once.
one hot summer evening
for an fhe treat
so many moons ago.
back in the days
when the backyard's garden plenty
was on our kitchen table daily.
oh, how i dream of
such a blessing now. . .

but i'll never forget
that delectable dessert
of strawberries
dipped in sour cream and brown sugar.

Friday, August 15, 2008

park mendelshtam

dad grew up across the street.
ran through this park
as a child.

now, 25 years later,
it's his little girls'
favorite place
to run free.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008


honest, i don't beat them.
i swear on my life.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


many, many thanks!

Monday, August 11, 2008

unpaid ad

why do i love
burt's bees
peppermint shower soap?
because what's greater
than being able to 
recognize every ingredient
in your beauty product.

which i can not say
about my hair product.

now that stuff
is just plain scary.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

mary poppins

what is it
that makes me want
their childhood
to be so similar to mine?

when the only movies
i'll buy them
are the ones i watched 
when i was little.
you know,
mary poppins
wizard of oz
sesame street old school.

nothing wrong with that, right?

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

1st step

mounds of paperwork
months of running here
running there
a passport full of russian visas
63 headaches
a truckload of red tape
black fingertips

and i left this
jewel of a passport office
wiping my brow
with a stamp in my passport
making official
my first step in getting that
russian green card.
with still
plenty of work ahead.


Monday, August 4, 2008


a brisk summer evening
on the moscow river

at the restaurant called
(the jetty)

too brisk to take a dip

followed by some 
high speed go-cart racing

the air was thick
with exhaust
and competition.

and it was a happy birthday,

Friday, August 1, 2008


28 years
since he was 
this dang cute!!

happy birthday,
my forever friend!!