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It was the cake that had nothing going for it. The bag of shredded carrots had been labelled “Best Used Before December 7, 2011”. I had run out of eggs and then scrounged a few from some unsuspecting roommate. The 1.5cups of veggie oil was supplemented with olive oil (yes, extra virgin). The mixing wasn’t...
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We threw a grand party in honor of Bilbo and Frodo last night. Homemade carrot cake (my aunt’s recipe) with homemade cream cheese icing. Very fall. Very hobbity. Party Planner and architect extraordinaire stringing lights over the fence and party tree. Nicolle Mauer did the writing for the incredibly lovely birthday sign. Candles lit on...
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Just wanted to share this link, especially to those of you who have read this blog for a while: http://www.curatormagazine.com/dana-ray/in-word-and-dance/  Parts of some posts I did here on ballroom dancing turned into a longer essay on dancing and writing. The Curator published it and I am excited to share it with you in a cleaned...
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I recommend following these instructions. Take a walk. Talk a walk in the cold before the snow comes and fills in to the road edges several feet thick. Take a walk and enjoy the line between gravel and pavement and the grass next to the field. Note the similarities between the sound of frozen grass...
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More lovely times at Irvings. I think Word Party is going to have to become part of regular life. I spent three hours at Irvings with some fascinating people. We talked about our writing processes, read some Annie Dillard and a play called “Arcadia” and Elizabeth Bishop and what makes us scared to write. My...
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by Jane Hirshfield November. One pear    sways on the tree past leaves, past reason. In the nursing home, my friend has fallen.    Chased, he said, from the freckled woods by angry Thoreau, Coleridge, and Beaumarchais. Delusion too, it seems, can be well read. He is courteous, well-spoken even in dread. The old fineness in him...
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I met my name last month. It was the rainiest day we’ve had this fall. Everything was cold and wet and had been cold and wet since early the night before. It was going on late afternoon now and I was doing some work at the kitchen table. Someone knocked on the door. Our knocker...
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“Grounded. Cha-cha is about being grounded,” Jolene insisted. I was confused but I took the pointed critique. “The problem with you two,” (here she looked away from me and towards my partner, James), “and it drives me crazy to see you doing it, is the way you both live on your toes. What are you...
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