Sep 30, 2008
Sep 29, 2008
Sep 27, 2008
Sep 25, 2008
Sep 23, 2008
Prada
Sep 22, 2008
Sep 20, 2008
Sep 19, 2008
Sep 18, 2008
The Road not taken
Giacomelli
....
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood,
And I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood,
And I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost
Sep 17, 2008
ODE TO IRONING
Poetry is white
it comes dripping out of the water
it gets wrinkled and piles up
We have to stretch out the skin of this planet
We have to iron the sea in its whiteness
The hands go on and on
and so things are made
the hands make the world every day
fire unites with steel
linen, canvas and calico come back
from combat in the laundry
and from the light a dove is born
purity comes back from the soap suds.
Pablo Neruda
it comes dripping out of the water
it gets wrinkled and piles up
We have to stretch out the skin of this planet
We have to iron the sea in its whiteness
The hands go on and on
and so things are made
the hands make the world every day
fire unites with steel
linen, canvas and calico come back
from combat in the laundry
and from the light a dove is born
purity comes back from the soap suds.
Pablo Neruda
Sep 16, 2008
Sep 15, 2008
Sep 14, 2008
Sep 13, 2008
BLACK EYE PEA YUMMY
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons chopped fresh oregano or 1 teaspoon dried
Freshly ground pepper to taste
4 cups peeled and diced cucumbers
1 14-ounce can black-eyed peas, rinsed
2/3 cup diced red bell pepper
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup slivered red onion
2 tablespoons chopped black olives
Sep 12, 2008
Sep 11, 2008
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