To Haiti with Love

I'm pleased to be part of this auction to benefit kids in Haiti. I'm offering a copy of Lanterns (along with the goodies you'll find in the Light & Love package that I announced yesterday.) Even if you've already donated to help people after the earthquake in Haiti, please consider directing some of your secret squirrel money to the auction. (What's secret squirrel money? You know, that little account you squirrel away -- or steal from! -- to buy irresistible handmade stuff online.) There are loads of amazing items in the auction. The auction closes at midnight EST on Monday, February 8, 2010, and all the information you need is on the To Haiti with Love site.

Lanterns Light & Love Package (with chocolate)

The Chocolate Room (print available; see below)

Here in southwestern Pennsylvania, February days are short and grey, and even the overcast sunlight lies around, listless and tired. The weather is one thing, but my internal climate has been downright glum for a few days. January and February are not easy on the psyche, but I'm determined to get back my joy this month.

In case you're having a similar bout of the blues, I've decided to pour some honey on these slow, gloomy days by offering a sweet treat to infuse your mailbox (and heart) with light and love. First of all, copies of Lanterns: A Gathering of Stories are on sale for $15 each (normally $18). So if you've been waiting to get this six-by-six-inch square of goodness, now is a great time. Lanterns is 50 pages of gorgeous black and white photography, inspiring poetry, and encouraging prose. This curated collection takes an honest look at  living the creative life and celebrates the art-and-soul-sisters who help to light our way.

But here's the icing on top of the cupcake: If you (or someone you love) need an extra dose of sweetness and light, check out the new Lanterns Light & Love package. For just $20, you'll get this lovely bundle:

• one signed copy of Lanterns: A Gathering of Stories;
• one 5"x7" color print of "The Chocolate Room" (see photo above);
• an audio recording of the book's opening poem, "Oceans Vast: A Blessing," by Rachelle Mee-Chapman
• a handwritten love note; and
• a sweet treat, all thoughtfully packaged.

This set includes a print of the photo at the top of this post, which I took during a visit to Brooklyn to see Lanterns contributor Jen Lee. This cozy "chocolate boutique and dessert café" is home to the best chocolate cake I've ever eaten. Jen's daughter, a sophisticated first grader who knows what she likes, called the treats there "delish." When a six-year-old uses words like that to describe chocolate, you know it's good.  And just look at this place: even the counters are like warm, rich slabs of chocolate drenched in caramel. The photo is good enough to lick.

But don't lick your screen. Head on over to the shop to get your helping of light, love, and chocolate.

Reclaiming the Joy of Grey

image sources below

Because Maryse reminded me in the comments of the last post that like pink, grey (one of my favorite colors) is also a new-named color for something-plus-white; and because grey goes so well with a week of pink, a poem:

Reclaiming the Joy of Grey

The mourning dove:
Her purring song calms my mind
And lengthens the minutes.

My cats, one big, one small:
Their whisker quiet senses
Divining my every mood.

Dryer lint:
Soft and precious,
If only for a moment.

That sweater, that sweatshirt,
That ratty old jacket:
Warmer than any fur coat.

The color of waves,
The whale, a smooth
Sea stone.

I take my grey with an "e,"
Never an "a,"
And no sugar, please.

**  **  **

1. pink and gray, 2. Light on a Gray Day, 3. Grey crocheted hat, 4. dark simplicity with bokeh, 5. Dusky Bokeh, 6. Grey and Pink, 7. Gray's Lake Grove - November Fog, 8. Great Grey Owl, 9. Grey Elephant teapot

{a week of} pink: a poem

image sources listed below

Liz is hosting a week of pink on her blog and has invited anyone who needs a little color during the grey days of winter to join in. Today I went in search of something pink, because truth be told, I'm feeling grey on the inside. Sadnesses small and large are piling up in my psyche, making me feel sluggish, sleepy, and small. Pink seemed like a good place to start in the search for joy.

Pink Stands Alone

The color of innocent baby girls and ironic punk chicks,
Pink has no peer.
It is the magical alchemy of red mixed
With white.
But any other color -- blue, orange, green --
Stays itself
No matter how much white you fold in.

Pink is for bubbelgum and lovers,
For breast cancer survivors,
For all the parts of our bodies we cover
In public.
In my youth I hated the color,
A soft rebellion
Against my mother.

Today, blue means home
And pink, joy.
I move from room to room
In this body.
Pink is a part of myself,
But not all.
Every color is love.

 
**   **   **   **

1. Pretty Pink Tint N Bokeh, 2. I HEART You, 3. pink bokeh, 4. pink bokeh friday, 5. pink daisy bokeh, 6. pink bokeh, 7. pink joy bokeh - Explored (and didn't know it) Nov. 17, 2008 (#481), 8. Blue & Pink Bokeh, 9. oh, tuesdays///how pink you have become since I discovered pretty pink tuesday///

My Words

My words have been buttoned up in tight tuxedos, choking on champagne, cliché, and caviar. My words are tired of these too-tight high-heels that manage to look sensible, not sexy. My words have been holding their breath, corseted and small. My words have been making small talk but missing the flirty banter at the other end of the bar. My words ache to wear a sexy red dress that shows off a fair piece of décolletage. My words want to sprawl atop a piano. Or maybe my words prefer a seedy bar and a sequined halter top, just because they've never done that sort of thing before. Beer is an acquired taste, a bitter fizz and pop on my words' tongue. My words want to whisper in the dark, play it fast and loose, run across a field of wildflowers with a bottle of whiskey and Tom Petty singing sweet-yet-dark in the soundtrack sky. My words need to laugh, need to shoot up, need to let the bottom fall out. My words have never scandalized anyone, but they are still trying. My words are a carousel in the desert heat. My words drip honey onto hot buttered toast.

My words pick locks, jump out of planes, know exactly how to touch a man to make him moan. My words know First Aid. My words will never tickle you, because tickling is cruel, not fun. My words want to ride a fast horse. My words take a long, hot bath and then an ice cold shower. My words heard a strange noise in the night and whimpered. My words learn something new every day. Yesterday it was the term crepuscular, which sounds clinical but is actually something beautiful. My words try to speak French. A Cuban woman once mistook my words for Spanish. My words never flag. My words are in love. My words shake their fists and yell at the sky. My words miss you. My words have traveled to every timezone on the planet and never had jetlag. My words always say please-and-thank-you-very-much. My words will sing you a song. My words saw you standing there.

My words know when to be quiet. My words saw a hawk and called it an eagle. My words like to make an entrance. My words know all about cause and effect. My words mimic your casual affect. My words are Whirling Dervishes who live next door to Rumi. My words have fled the sand of the desert in search of water. My words are a sure-footed mountain goat with a little white beard. My words crossed the river. My words strip naked and streak across the page. My words will run in circles and all fall down. My words will keep you company. My words will shed a tear. My words will muster up a barbaric yawp and let it loose over the rooftops of the world. My words will spin you right round baby, right round. Like a record, baby. My words are your words. From California to the New York Island. My words hide in the shadows of a campfire. My words disco in the woods. My words will carpe diem. (Yeah, my words saw "Dead Poets Society." So did you.) My words strain at the seams, finger the hem of your dress, bite the soft pad of flesh on your upper arm. My words are hungry. My words don't know when to stop. My words are willful and ignorant, like a crab in the sand. My words are heavy ripe fruit on a tree. My words know how to count to one-hundred. My words are lullabies. My words are stars. My words will listen. My words know nothing about the ways of the world.