Harvard Square Holiday Fair

This Saturday, at the suggestion of Ed, who takes care of Lily Beth, I went to the Harvard Square Holiday Fair in the basement of the Unitarian Church on the corner of Church Street and Mass. Ave., right in Harvard Square.

Though this annual fair has been around for a while, this was my first visit. It's small enough so you can see it all in less than an hour, and it's full of interesting craftspeople from New England and New York, all of whom were unfailingly nice and more than happy to talk about their work. I saw adorable handmade baby clothes, gorgeous ceramics, cool lighting made from recycled cans, and tons of jewelry. I bought some wonderful scented soaps and bath salts—including one called "Sore Muscles" in honor of my new workout regimen and one called "Amber Love" because it contains frankincense and when I asked what that smelled like the woman who made it replied "It smells like the Catholic Church."

I also bought this choker from Ed's wife, Jen, whose Parrish Relics is exhibiting there:


I think I was 16 the last time time I wore a choker, but this tickled me and, besides, recent hair issues have me experimenting with all aspects of my appearance these days.

I came home and showed Ben and he smirked.

"You're not really very wicked," he said.

"I know," I replied. "It's ironic. That's why it's funny!"

Still looking for something one-of-a-kind, local, and handmade for someone on your holiday gift list? The fair's last days are Thursday through Tuesday, December 18th through the 23rd. Stop by the Parrish Relics booth and tell Jen that Lily Beth sent you.

"Catch and Release" Published in The Fourth River

My essay, "Catch and Release," was just published in Issue 5 of The Fourth River. The issue's TOC isn't up on the magazine's web site yet (I'll update the link when it is), but my author copies arrived on Saturday. This was my first acceptance and it's a piece I finished up about four years ago, so it's a thrill to see it in print—and a relief to see that the footnotes aren't all in italics the way they were in the page proofs.

Poetry Slam

I've started writing poetry. Don't ask.

I showed one of my first efforts to Ben, who sees everything before my writing group.

"It's good," he said.

"Really? It's, like, my first poem. Good? Really?"

"Yeah, it's good."

I basked in his praise for a few hours before I thought to ask a follow-up question.

"What, exactly, was good about it?"

"Your poem? I understood it."

"You understood it."

"Yeah, you know, some poems you can't understand. I was able to read yours."

"So your standard for 'good' in poetry is (a) written in the English language and (b) intelligible?"

"It makes me sound like a philistine when you put it that way."

I stopped basking and got back to work.

New Design

I spent today switching blog templates. I liked the old one, but this one lets me get a lot more in the way of lists and other stuff into the sidebar in a space-efficient manner, so I'm going with it. I'll probably continue to tweak it for a while longer—comments and suggestions welcome!

The photo in the header is actually of the tree behind our house. I took pictures with our digital camera, imported them into iPhoto, cropped one to fit the new design, punched up the color a smidgen (OK, three smidgens), and voilà! I do love my Mac.

In Which I Realize What a Bad Person I Am for Patronizing a Chain Bookseller

"Hi," I said, walking up to the employee at the desk on the second floor in the literary nonfiction section of the big chain bookstore out by the mall. "Do you have the new Best American Essays?"

"Is that, like ... a book?"

Yes, my good man, it is exactly like a book. In fact, it is a book! Even though it is National Sarcasm Awareness Month (and thanks to the fabulous Miss Conduct for the notice!), I keep this observation to myself. I really want that ... book thingy.

"Yes, it's a series that's published annually. I think this year it will be Best American Essays 2008."

He types it in on the computer, with Ben and me looking over his shoulder.

"Yep, it's in stock," he says. "It's downstairs by the main information desk."

I sigh audibly for his benefit (I am a jerk) and head down the escalator. How can you not have at least a copy or two of Best American Essays in your essay section? I realize I am about to support, though my patronage, both this bizarre shelving scheme and the hiring of employees who have to think about whether something called Best American Essays is a book. I feel even worse because I heard this volume was available though the email newsletter of an independent bookstore that I love, but that is also a good 40 minutes from my house. I am a jerk, and lazy, and a bad, unreflective consumer.

Two take-aways:

1. Best American Essays 2008 (yes, I did buy it) totally rocks, about which more soon.
   
   
2. Find and patronize your local independent bookstore. Do it even when it's inconvenient and more expensive. The aggravation (and guilt) you save may be your own.