It all started Friday. I went for a ride on Tank, because we finally got a REAL cold front that dropped our temperatures into the—oh joy!—70s. (I’d skipped my normal Wednesday ride because the heat and humidity were so bad I was extremely cranky, and cranky rider often = cranky horse…something I don’t think any of us wants to see.) Tank and I had a lovely ride, and practiced longer stretches of trotting to build muscle (for both of us) without winding up in a puddle of sweat.

When I got home, I opened all the windows in the house and sat outside on the lanai to read for a bit before dinner.

Saturday, I started the day with three of the loveliest words in the English language: library book sale. So far as I know, this was the first one my local branch has hosted, and though I tried not to get my hopes too high, I was eager to see what they’d have. Danielle at A Work in Progress often has wonderful luck at her library book sales, and I hoped maybe it would rub off on me. The sale was fairly small, and I came home with only three books: Stephen King’s Duma Key (to replace our missing copy—a truly amazing, though creepy, story); Perfectly Imperfect, by Lee Woodruff, a collection of essays about being a wife, mother, daughter and friend; and Sarah’s Key (Tatiana de Rosnay), a book I've had on my TBR list for a while. The lady who checked me out exclaimed, “Oh, this is such a good book,” when she saw it, so I feel that’s a good omen.

Later that day, my husband and I joined another couple for a trip to a little town nearby to browse antiques stores. No one found any treasures to take home, but we enjoyed the beautiful day, and the poking around through others’ interesting and unusual possessions.

We also stopped here:

Friends of ours own this candy store, so we bought an assortment of chocolate to (ahem) support their fledgling business.


And Sunday? Well, Sunday was the best of all. My son and husband went mountain biking, leaving me home alone for most of the day. I filled the hours, which went by like minutes, with reading (the Sunday paper and The Winter Sea), puttering (cleaned off my kitchen desk and the drawers and cabinet surrounding it while watching Eat Pray Love on dvd) and simply chilling out and enjoying the solitude. I also watched one of Laure Ferlita’s class videos, and fooled around trying to figure out what to sketch for the assignment.

My weekend was the perfect blend of activity and relaxation, solitude and togetherness. I especially loved doing something fun with my husband, instead of doing errands or household projects. I hope future weekends will be just as wonderful.

How was your weekend?

All this fun is just exhausting...

What will you do to feed your inner artist?

I take classes with Laure Ferlita...

A poor memory? I would have thought the opposite: a good memory to keep in mind the positive things that happen. Isn’t that what gratitude lists and such are all about? But after a little thought, I realize there are plenty of things we’d be wise to forget, such as:

Mistakes we’ve made. I know I need to work on this, because when I make a mistake, I have a tendency to replay it in my mind over and over, often blowing it out of proportion. Everyone makes mistakes. I make mistakes, even though I really don’t want to admit that I do. If necessary, apologize, and/or make things right, then move on. Cling to the philosophy, as the heroine in Anne of Green Gables did, that “tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet.”

Wrongs done to us. What good does it really do to dwell on them? Life isn’t fair. Some people are jerks. Other people make mistakes (see above) and hurt us, whether accidentally or on purpose. Let it go.

Past situations we wish were different. The ridiculous fight you had with your spouse. The time you didn’t make the varsity [insert sport here] team. The investment you made/didn’t make at the wrong/right time. The past is done…it’s passed. Time to move on.

As Barbara Ann Kipfer wrote in Field Guide to Happiness for Women (where I found the Albert Schweitzer quote), “The concept of forgetting the things that should be forgotten adds happiness to your life. But the flip side is knowing what not to forget.” Remember the good things: the love of your family and friends, the small details of today that give you joy, what you truly are grateful for. And, according to Kipfer, “Don’t forget that you are in charge of creating your own happiness.”

What do you want to forget? What do you want to remember?

I know a few people who simply don’t read. Well, that’s not quite accurate—they don’t read books. They read things on the internet, or they flip through magazines or the newspaper. Some simply aren’t interested in books, while others say they fall asleep as soon as they sit down with a book.

This is unthinkable.

My life would be immeasurably poorer without books. They’ve been my teachers and companions since I first deciphered letters on the page. If I were an Egyptian queen, I’d want to be buried with my library.

I find connection with other people through reading—a sort of validation that my feelings and thoughts are not unique to the world. I find this particularly in the writings of women, especially those who have the experience of trying to balance family commitments with some type of artistic life.


I read to learn—not only about practicalities, like how to take better photos (The Digital Photography Book) or use my time more effectively (168 Hours), but to see what it would be like to live in a different time, or as a man, or even as a horse (Black Beauty). As a writer, I read to improve my writing by immersing myself in beautiful language. I observe how other writers structure their work, and play with words. I read to try to understand other people’s points of view, thus expanding my own. I read to escape to new worlds, to laugh, to enrich my life. I know reading books isn't the only way to do these things, but I feel that people who don't read books miss out on a lot.


Mostly, though, I read for the sheer pleasure of it.


Why do you read?

Here’s a poem of mixed feelings by Don Thompson to help us launch October. Thompson lives in Buttonwillow, California, which sounds like the name of a town in a children’s story, don’t you think? [Introduction by Ted Kooser]

October

I used to think the land
had something to say to us,
back when wildflowers
would come right up to your hand
as if they were tame.

Sooner or later, I thought,
the wind would begin to make sense
if I listened hard
and took notes religiously.
That was spring.

Now I’m not so sure:
the cloudless sky has a flat affect
and the fields plowed down after harvest
seem so expressionless,
keeping their own counsel.

This afternoon, nut tree leaves
blow across them
as if autumn had written us a long letter,
changed its mind,
and tore it into little scraps.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by Don Thompson, whose most recent book of poetry is Where We Live, Parallel Press, 2009. Reprinted from Plainsongs, Vol. 30, no. 3, Spring 2010, by permission of Don Thompson and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2011 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.

Life is good