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Flower bower, well wishing, and books of light(ness)

2011 May 30

FREE SMELLS: I’m not big on decorating and (lately) on cleaning (I pretty much only clean when people are coming over), so I try to distract from the messiness at the Starkweather residence with pretty flowers. I got these tulips at Trader Joe’s for $6, and I got the lilacs for free from my dad’s shrubbery. Check out the cool pic of my ‘rents bein’ hip at college on the right. Also, I was thinking the human race needs to get a little adventurous in our plant-giving traditions. Why isn’t it acceptable to give someone a bouquet of leaves, for example? Or branches? Or a handful of tastefully arranged grass?

CONGRATULATIONS: To my dad who is about 10 cups of coffee away from retirement. Your life is about to get about 17 times more amazing. The soil of Lorain County is, reportedly, despondent at the loss of its great protector. To lovely Lana, of my Borders Friends, who recently got married — I am so happy for you and your lucky new husband! To Sue who is also celebrating her retirement. There are so many teachers and students who are better because of you.

CLASS IT UP/CLASS IT DOWN PART II: I’m currently reading “Light in August” by Faulkner, which is dark, twisty, and amazing. Check out this description: “His voice sounds light, trivial, like a thistle bloom falling into silence without a sound, without any weight. He does not move” (89). B.A., Faulkner. B.A.

In a complete departure, Erin recently informed me of some more current and exciting “literary” news — the author of “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” is releasing a fifth book about Tibby, Lena, Carmen, and Bridget when they’re in their 20s. I’m pretty psyched. Don’t judge. I spend a sizeable chunk of my reading time looking for Gramsci’s ideas in postmodern literature. So I allow myself this indulgence. You should allow it for yourself, too. They’re actually pretty good — they get to the heart of the kind of indescribable lovliness of finding people with whom you are your truest self.

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