Wednesday, January 31, 2007


Does anybody miss dancing as much as I do?
It struck me this morning, listening to the Pointer Sisters while exercising, how very, very much I miss it. On my elliptical (the most boring machine ever invented) my legs were remembering when moving was FUN! I am definitely my parents' child. Dancing was both their lives and it was mine, up till about the age of thirty when life got in the way. Yeah, it was nobody's fault but my own. I could have kept on dancing, it just slipped down the priority list. Till now, and my little trip down nostalgia lane--remembering the hot, sweaty nights of dancing till you dropped. Dirty John's Triangle Inn, the Crystal Ballroom, any little bar that had a wooden square big enough for a cool guy to swing you on, it didn't matter. And the music, oh the music--we were there--at the birth of rock n' roll and sorry folks, but it just doesn't get any better than that.
Did you watch Dancing with the Stars? I loved that show, and ordinarily I hate reality TV, but this one got me hooked and smooth, cool Emmitt Smith...
Today, before I knew it, the forty exercise minutes were up. About every other song I'd gotten off that boring machine and danced! And I was just getting started. Didn't know how old I was, didn't care. Felt like eighteen again.
Tango lessons, anyone?
Hello, Emmitt?
- mimi

Tuesday, January 30, 2007


It's snowing tonight. And very cold. Winter at it's finest, and what's
finer than soup in weather like this? Build a fire, light a candle,
put on some Nora Jones and the Little Willies and enjoy life. This is a
really easy soup, but very flavorful. All you need with it is some good
bread, a little wine, and of course, a bite of chocolate for dessert...
- 2 T olive oil
- 1 large onion, chopped
- garlic, to taste
- (2) 4 oz. cans chopped green chiles (your preference for fire content)
- 1 lb. ground turkey (or beef if you prefer)
- (1) 18. oz. jar green taco sauce
- 2 cans white beans
- 1 t ground cumin (or more, to taste)
- 1-1/2 t dried leaf oregano (or more)
- 2 cans chicken broth
Heat oil and saute onion, garlic and green chiles for about 3 minutes, until chiles are fragrant and onion is soft. Throw that in a crockpot, along with the taco sauce, beans, chicken broth and spices. Brown turkey and add, along with salt and pepper to taste. Cook all day on low, or at least four hours on high. If you like, serve with bowls of green onion, salsa, or your avorite shredded white cheese.
Don't forget the chocolate...
- mimi


Seattle Public Library - Photo by S. Auberle
If the doors of perception
were cleansed,
everything would appear to man
as it is, infinite.
- William Blake

Sunday, January 28, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

Saturday, January 27, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

found poem from the J. Peterman Company Catalog
Years of pink testing
by Dr. Alex Schauss
who gets paid to do such things
have proved fifteen minutes
of exposure to pink
calms anxiety and crankiness
as effectively as a tranquilizer.
I'm not surprised.
Pink is red
without the bared, sharp teeth
warm and sensuous
but unthreatening.
Pink is Rubens and Renoir
and Cupid coming into view
any minute now.
Bring pink power
on special occasions
for ones you want to make special.
Apply it wisely.

Friday, January 26, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

I'm the blue mountain today
wrapped in wind
the black art of crows
writing my life
on the sky.
- mimi

Thursday, January 25, 2007


Photo/Collage by S. Auberle

is the power
to grow roses
in winter
- Mary Engelbreit

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

and how could anyone believe
that anything in this world
is only what it appears to be--
- Mary Oliver

Tuesday, January 23, 2007


altered photo by S. Auberle

driving up the canyon
dark of the moon
snow drapes red cliffs
the road twists
and curves
up up up
into a cloud
beside the road
a thousand feet
in my vision
in my world
to cling to
a faint yellow line
and you
fog-shrouded headlights
behind me
that say press on
I'll share the night
share the beauty
catch you if you fall
the long road
winds home, love
but so full
of your light
- mimi

Sunday, January 21, 2007


Photo/Collage by S. Auberle
"The next day after yesterday is today."
- Henry, age 5

Thursday, January 18, 2007


- S. Auberle
in the arms of pines
sunrise rests so tenderly
awake, jealous heart
- mimi

Wednesday, January 17, 2007


Collage by S. Auberle
is that I am here
because many years ago
or was it yesterday
two ancient angels
looked down
or up, as the case may be
we really don't know
and saw a full moon
a warm June evening
a long-legged man
and a green-eyed woman.
The angels nodded and said
yes, this could work
picked up their dusty robes
and went searching
through the cosmic closet
for spare notes
unused by Mozart
a color or two abandoned by Monet
Whitman's discarded words
a few leftover snowflakes
a rolling green wave
a bird's wing and three glittery rocks.
They threw this odd combination
into a magic cauldron
stirred for nine months
and out tumbled me
an unlikely mix, confused
and searching for love
when all I really need to know
is that I am still here
on this day of shining sun and snow
desire coursing in my blood
groping my way through Paradise.
- mimi

Tuesday, January 16, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle
To see a World in a grain of sand,
and a Heaven in a wildflower,
hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
and eternity in an hour.
- William Blake

Monday, January 15, 2007


Photographer unknown
Today is the seventh anniversary of my mother's death. I still miss her. She was a beautiful, strong woman. Dancing was her life. In her mid-eighties she would still get out on the dance floor, with anyone who would whirl her about. I once made the mistake of suggesting, ever so lightly, that she might want to slow down just a bit. She looked at me with love, and said: you don't understand. What better way to die, than while dancing? I couldn't argue with that. IF there truly is a place we go after death, I hope she is this age, wearing this dress and dancing her heart out.
for Maggie, 1913-2000
Driving home--past the Great Miami river
where mighty Tecumseh once roamed.
Flowing out of its banks this rainy winter,
the water moves silently through stark trees.
A puzzled crow calls, a hawk,
its white breast ruffled in the cold,
surveys the river--no longer contained,
free at last.
I come to the Pasco road, turn north
toward the hill where you are buried.
As I climb, the earth is spongy beneath me.
The radio said snow is approaching.
It was seven years ago, in ice
and a wind more cruel than this
that you were laid to rest,
your small green urn so alone
on the frozen earth.
There are roses carved on your stone.
A plastic flower from someone's grave
skitters about in the wind.
In summer this is a singing place
with birds and sun and starlight on maples.
Today it lies uneasy in this winter
that holds off, wrapping snowy blankets
about itself, refusing to share.
There are miles to go yet to the place
where I was born, to friends' houses,
to laughter, wine and food,
so I whisper goodbyes, love,
apologies for leaving too soon,
place the plastic rose on your stone
and pray that from this grave
you are risen--the urn shattered,
no longer able to contain you.

Saturday, January 06, 2007


Photo and photo/collage by S. Auberle
Waning moon high in the sky this Feast of Epiphany morning and the drummers are drumming on this last day of Christmas. Snow covers the ground and the air is crisp and exhilarating. Yesterday, late afternoon, the wind was fierce as I walked. You could almost lean into it as I headed east up Abbey Road. The slush had turned to ice that crunched beneath my feet and little dervishes of snow whirled about me. The mountains were missing, veiled in white clouds.
Yes, there are those of us who actually love this kind of weather. And those who don't, who would, given a choice, spend these beautiful months in tropical climes. Which is why I've posted a picture for each above.
But for those of us snow lovers, there's also the joy of coming into a warm house, building a fire, settling into your favorite chair with a hot mug of something, or a glass of wine and your current favorite book. I'm reading at the moment, among about six others, American Bloomsbury. A fascinating book about the life and times of some of America's greatest literary geniuses:
"Even the most devoted readers of nineteenth century American literature often assume that the men and women behind the masterpieces were as dull and staid as the era's static daguerreotypes. Susan Cheever's latest work, however, brings new life to the well-known literary personages who produced such cherished works as the The Scarlet Letter, Moby-Dick, Walden, and Little Women. Rendering in full color the tumultuous, often scandalous lives of these volatile and vulnerable geniuses, Cheever's dynamic narrative reminds us that, while these literary heroes now seem secure of their spots in the canon, they were once considered avant-garde, bohemian types, at odds with the establishment."
I will never look at Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson in the same way again. Wow...
Apparently I've rambled on this long because I will not be posting for a week or so. Off to the Midwest where, unfortunately, winter seems to be missing. I will leave you with my second poem of 2007--though very modest, the words seem to have finally begun arriving--or else my muse is still recovering from a New Year's celebration. In honor of the twelve drummers drumming:
winter afternoon
woodpecker tapping on door
my heart says come in
- mimi

Friday, January 05, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

soul train
through softly
falling snow
muffled lament
of pipers
this eleventh day
of Christmas
- mimi

Thursday, January 04, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

Here it is, the fourth day of January, and not a SINGLE piece of writing--poetry or otherwise--has come my way.
Tlaqepaque is a very cool area in Sedona, Arizona filled with incredible art which I hoped would inspire me, but didn't. So, as usual, I turn to others' words. This arrived in my morning e-mail and while I don't usually pay attention to these things, I liked this one and it seemed a good one for the New Year. Though someone close to me labeled it "a bit sappy" (and I agree) it never hurts to be reminded of these things:
"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.
Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin."
- anonymous

Wednesday, January 03, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

Cool, glowing orb
you enthrall, enchant
captivate, charm
mesmerize, seduce.
You do not burn
like the sun
do not flaunt your light
yet who is there
that does not love you,
that is not, because of you,
swept into a foolish act
at least once
in their careful lives,
maddened, ecstatic
- mimi