fascinating information from the internet - and my office

1. I have unsubscribed from The Sartorialist. (I'm not linking. You know who he is.)

2. Best Thanksgiving post of the year.

3. I don't like dogs and haven't a care for Fiona Apple but I am in tears.

4. Ditch the earworm.

5. I think I have to make this. It has all my favorite ingredients.

6. Makes me want to run away.

7. The Huckberry Guide to Thanksgiving.

8. Thanksgiving stories from the staff of the Times.

I'm off today but that doesn't stop the work email. K (at work) and I have lost the venue for our holiday party and must re-think, and fast.
Meanwhile, as is his wont, my boss has sent us a poem. He does that - sends all 117 of us poems for occasions. This one hit me.


by Eleanor Lerman

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to 
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a 
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have 
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman 
down beside you at the counter who say, Last night, 
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological 
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old 
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it 
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.

And then life suggests that you remember the 
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.

Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you 
were born at a good time. Because you were able 
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And 
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland, 
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel, 
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.


Anonymous said…
1. I am so proud of you for doing this.
2. I almost wet my pants at the vegan green bean recipe, because? Been there.
Duyvken said…
Oh bb, I love that cabin site. I will spend a lot of time there, I think, dreaming my way out of the laundry pile.
And, how wonderful to be in a poem-filled workplace. I'd be feeling very thankful about that.
Anonymous said…
Happy Thanksgiving bb! I will be looking for you today and saying to the room, "Maybe that's bb." It is fun to wonder. Thank you for all the links for today and always.
Julia said…
Thank you very much for passing along the poem. Remembering what life lets us do makes me turn and look at it just a bit more than I usually do.
Mary said…
Oh that poem!
shadygrey said…
The poem. Thank you.

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