online pop-up books!
August 8, 2008
Deb turned me on to this awesome site full of aminals, pop-up books and messages about recycling.
Go see, go see! It’s at ecodazoo.
i can’t hide it any longer!
July 21, 2008
I’m working on a new joint, which I hope to unveil soon. (It makes this place look more than a little shoddy.) I’m so excited, I want to squeetle!* Here’s a sneak peek:
*Squeetle (skw?t’l) n. 1. something terribly cute that makes a little squeaky noise when you squeeze it too hard 2. something that likes to be squeezed in this fashion 3. something that runs around squeaking all the time. v. 1. the act of squeezing a squeetle. Get over here, or I’m gonna squeetle you.**
**I totally made this word up.
why i love my mother-in-law. just look at her having the good times with me. cameras can’t even catch her for all the fun she is having. that’s bananagrams we are playing, in case you were wondering.
July 8, 2008
me, hatted and happy
July 7, 2008
This is the effect my mother- and father-in-law have on me.
why i don’t hate everyone (alternatively titled ‘some happy-makers’)
October 20, 2007
How can I hate everyone when there are people in the world who send me communications like this:
I still plan on addressing your comments regarding polycephaly and identity.
Or this:
You may also like to know that the two star-shaped guys fit together reasonably well for dancing.
Or this:
… for each line, I must go to the library and consult the Holy Scriptures, the Koran, the complete Golden Bough, Bulfinch’s Mythology and the Brooklyn telephone directory from 1956.
I know I’ve taken these quotes out of context and am giving you no background. That’s because I’m difficult like that, and also because I like to create mystery. Mwahahahaha!
But now you know how to talk pretty to me. You know what I like. Mmmmmm.
we were not the only couple sleeping near the water
September 9, 2007
My husband and I just got back from an afternoon in the park.
We watched leaves lift from branches, float for a while, then make their soft landings. We watched sunlight penetrate the leaves remaining on each tree with such intensity the leaves appeared to be internally illuminated: countless strands of lime-green holiday lights all switched on at once.
A crow landed on a branch above us, paid careful attention to its surroundings — whatever it is crows pay attention to. (I wouldn’t presume to know.)
My husband’s face was the largest thing in my field of vision, lying next to him as I was. I realized he’s the one person in this world I have any real chance of knowing.
He gave me a kiss. We slept. Whatever happened while we slept will always be a mystery to us, although I am certain the crow was still there, and the leaves — as well as the wind that stirred them.
This is my blog wherein I, Dana Guthrie Martin, write things and stuff. Most of the time, writing and I hobble along in a sort of three-legged race where there is no finish line. (more...)
It’s not every day that the world arranges itself into a poem. — Wallace Stevens (Yes, it is. — Me)
-
beg, borrow, but don't steal
This work is licensed under Creative Commons. If you don’t credit Dana (by using her full name and preferably by linking back to the appropriate post) for however you copy, distribute, transmit or adapt her words, you are being bad. And naughty. And she will have her servant monkeys hunt you down and cut your hands off so you can never copy, distribute, transmit or adapt anyone’s work again and call it your own.
(Unless, of course, you were to use your butt cheeks to manipulate your keyboard with the copying, distributing, transmitting, adapting and whatnot, but Dana fortunately has only met one person whose butt cheeks are that talented. He could play a major third on a piano using nothing but his ass. She kids you not.).
-
flick, flick, flick
-
i cannot be bought
