Modern Poetry Blues

Yesterday, I decided that I would act like I live here in Blacksburg: I got my library card. And, as Arthur taught us, Having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card! (if you don't believe me, see for yourself)

I walked into the Blacksburg Public Library, and paused. It is beautiful in there: full of community event bulletin boards, happy posters, pleasant workers, and shelves and shelves of books. I walked in and thought, I want to work here! And then it hit me: of all the positions I've held in my rather diverse work experience, I loved nothing like I loved working in the library. I think, when I'm able, I want to pursue a Masters in Library Science, specializing in children's literature. Doesn't that sound lovely?

I left the library with three books (Oliver Twist was checked out already...): Julie and Julia by Julie Powell, How to Buy the Love of Reading, by Tanya Egan Gibson, and The Best American Poetry 2010, edited by Amy Gerstler and Devid Lehman. 

Poetry. I need to get back in the game. That's exactly why I checked out the most recent collection of lauded American poetry: to see what poetry is now. I'm terribly old-fashioned, I know, but it saddened me to see the purposeful, careful, genius structure of traditional poetry replaced by prosy free verse that seems more self-important than concerned with containing a deeper idea, a beauty deeper than its own brilliance.  

I'm sure as I continue through this anthology, I will find poems I love and see the merit of, and perhaps I will learn to appreciate all of them for what they are, but now, sipping my coffee and reading the first handful of poems, I wonder what happened to men like Keats and Hopkins and Frost. We've replaced the subtlety of form and complex images with the shock of too-honest similes, too obviously full of sex, despair, or sentimental childhood memories.

I know many disagree with me, and perhaps I'm just not as informed on the subject as I should be, but I wonder what is to be gained by discarding structure, form, and purpose for a so-called freedom that shamelessly disregards the history and literature of hundreds of years; we've discarded the original masters like Shakespeare and Wordsworth for the more recent rebels, like William Carlos Williams, who dare to write obtusely and baldly, forgetting that poetry is about sound and sense and not a blank page on which to rant and shock.

It makes me sad to see that poetry, like our culture, like academia, literature, ethics, art, and relationships, has ceased to be based on its own foundation. I know I shouldn't be surprised, since we live in a world fast decaying, continuing the Fall that began thousands of years ago. I hate that beauty, too, is tainted and changed.

I wonder, if our poetry seems apathetic about its past, about the deep and beautiful tradition of its history, what's a girl to do?

My Blue(berry) Heaven

Guess what grows in Virginia?
Blueberries!

Photo: Andrew Sweeny

Andrew and I spent yesterday morning at a local farm, filling our bucket with pounds and pounds of the biggest, most delicious blueberries I have ever seen or eaten. The farm is completely natural; no pesticides or anything, so you can eat those guys straight off the bushes -- and eating is encouraged. Did you know that flavor in blueberries varies from bush to bush?

 I kept thinking about Robert McCloskey's Blueberries for Sal.

Image by Robert McCloskey, Image via mybutterflydesign.blogspot.com

"Little Sal picked three berries and dropped them in her little tin pail ... kuplink, kuplank, kuplunk!"

My berries went kuplink, kuplank, kuplunk, so loudly and delightfully in my large tin pail -- until, of course, Andrew and I picked over a gallon, so the plunking stopped.


Photo: Andrew Sweeny

And, of course, like Sal, we ate as many as we put in our bucket.

Wedding pictures! (indulge me a bit here)

I haven't posted a single picture from my wedding! I'm still waiting on our official wedding pictures from our fabulous photographer Kelly, but I can show you a few of my favorites from the candid shots I've been given (and though a few of these are on Facebook, not all of them are. I'm not just copying, no worries!).

My yellow tea kettle is whistling. How happy. Peppermint tea!

----------------

The weekend of our wedding was splendid. It was such a blessing to be surrounded by so many friends who love us and are rooting for us and our marriage. It eases all doubts when you marry someone you know you love, who is your best friend, and who is highly approved by your other friends. Andrew is friends with all my friends, and I love all his friends. I can't imagine how some people decide to marry without such support. I realize all circumstances are different, but I know that community has such an incredibly important role in my life -- and should in the life of everyone, especially those who claim the name of Christ -- that I can't imagine marrying anyone outside the context of such a wonderful, loving and supportive community.

That said, the community wedding weekend was wonderful. All the bridesmaids stayed at my parents' house with me, so all my friends from different places had to meet each other and be friends. Ha! I love each of those girls so deeply, and each of them has blessed my life in a tremendous way -- I wouldn't have shared the day without any of them. Thank you, my dear ones.

The Friday before the wedding, Andrew's extended family had a luncheon, since it was basically a family reunion for them. Andrew and I, and my immediate family, joined them, then we met up with the wedding party at the coffee shop for the afternoon.

Then, the rehearsal. My parents live about ten minutes from the Hill House, where the wedding was to take place. In that ten minutes, between leaving my house and arriving at the Hill House, the weather changed from too-hot June sunshine to a perfectly torrential monsoon.

Needless to say, the rehearsal was a bit scattered -- inside, then outside, then back in as the rain came and went, teasing us.

Photo credit: Rachel Jones

You can see how shiny the bricks are from the rain.

But, everyone was a good sport about it.

Photo credit: Rachel Jones

I don't know if you can tell, but we're standing in a giant mud hole.

Other than the rain, it was a nice evening. Dinner was excellent, though my appetite had begun to go already due to nerves, so I couldn't eat as much as I would've liked.

We made sure the wedding party knew the essential dances -- working at summer camp gives you odd priorities like that.

Photo: Rachel Jones

Andrew and I (with some help from Ridge Haven people, of course) taught them the essentials: "Cotton-Eyed Joe", and the ridiculous but oh-so-fun "500 Miles."

They thought I was crazy, but that's okay.

------------------------

Saturday was a perfect day, so I won't bore you with my chatter. Just look at these lovely pictures!

Photo: Rachel Jones

We were married here, at the Hill House in lovely Abbeville, SC.



Photo: Rachel Jones

Our two superb ministers: Jeff Thompson and Andrew Lupton; Andrew and his best man Dwight

Photo: Chris Kloc

My lovely girls and Andrew, waiting for me.

Photos: Tim Moss

My dad and I rode up in a horse and carriage -- not typical Millie, but it was my wedding day.

It was fun.

Photo: Tim Moss

And I saw Andrew's face...

Photo: Martha Faires

He had two perfect tears on his cheeks, one from each eye.

And then we got married!

Photo: Bonnie Sweeny-Hutchinson

Photo: Bonnie Sweeny-Hutchinson

Photo: Tim Moss

Photo: Bonnie Sweeny-Hutchinson

Photo: Bonnie Sweeny-Hutchinson

Photo: Rachel Jones

Photo: Taylor McKissick

Photo: Kelly Davie

My darling, wonderful girls.

Photo: Tim Moss

Photo: Tim Moss

Our beautiful and yummy cake was made by my best friend from high school and bridesmaid, Jessica Maddox. She's super -- and the cake was absolutely delicious. We only had a bite each, but sporatically during our honeymoon, Andrew and I would look at each other and say, "I hope they saved us some cake!"

Photo: Tim Moss

Photo: Tim Moss

Photo: Rachel Jones

Photo: Rachel Jones

Photo: Tim Moss

Everyone danced admirably.

Photo: Rachel Jones

Hi-fives and good-bye!

It was a blast -- a blart, as we used to say.

I'm so glad the day was splendid, and I'm so glad I don't have to do it again.

Interviews, Scams, and Corn Fritters

Job interview today! The only non-administrative job I applied for -- of course that would be the one I get an interview for. Sometimes I wonder why God keeps me out of the corporate world so fiercely.

The position I interviewed for is an "assistant to the innkeeper" position at a local bed and breakfast. The Clay Corner Inn, to be exact. It's lovely and relaxed and has the charm and personable workers that suit a small business. I would be a general help: housekeeping, laundry, some in the kitchen, some at the front desk. It's not my dream job, of course, but I think it would be enjoyable for the time being; the people seem pleasant, and there is the simple joy of "good, honest work," as the proprietor kept calling it. I should find out by the end of the week, I believe.

This interview came at the same time as an email in response to another job I applied for -- but this one quickly became obvious to be the very opposite of legit. A realtor needing a personal assistant because he travels so much (currently in Dubai?!), never mentioned a company name, terrible punctuation and grammar -- not at all how a businessman would compose an email or hire an assistant. After the second email, Andrew and I looked at each other and said, Wait a minute... I'm glad we realized the falsehood so quickly, but I feel silly for being taken in at all.

----------------

After a long and drawn out conversation about whether or not we wanted to just order pizza for supper, I left Andrew to study for his exam on Wednesday, and I pulled vegetables out of the freezer. We've been eating a lot of summer veggies, like summer squash (mmm!), zucchini, and corn on the cob. We had two ears of corn left, and I remembered a recipe I cut out from Everyday Food ages ago. What else can you do with fresh corn?

Corn Fritters! Yum!

My camera is still quite unresponsive (CPR doesn't work on electronics), but they look something like this:

Image via The Recipe Garden

See? Yum! Fresh corn and sweet batter, fried golden brown. What's not to love?

I used the recipe from Everyday Food, which you can find here. I modified the ingredients a little to fit what we already had in the cabinet: we only had two ears of corn, and I substituted Jiffy Mix for cornmeal. I kept all the measurements the same, just had a little more batter than corn, which was good, since we could really taste the sweet batter along with the sweet corn.

I highly recommend these guys. Different, but delicious.

Might is Right

Andrew started back to classes today, and I spent the day house cleaning and job hunting. I've gotten so accustomed to having Andrew around all day; it was a little pitiful how sad I was when he left this morning.

I spent a good while this morning reading through Hosea. I'm not sure why, but as I was walking down the stairs, I just suddenly thought -- Hosea. I'm going to attempt to strengthen my meditation muscles; or at least be more dilligent than I usually am in trying to get deeper into the meaning, rather than skimming the surface. I, an English major, a poet, of all people, should read the Bible well. And reader, I do not. It is one of the biggest shames of my life.

If God has impressed one thing upon me in the past two weeks, it is His sovereignty. He is in absolute control -- of all things. And more than just mighty, He is also not only wise and good, but faithful. He is completely trustworthy. He will never do anything against His character, never anything that is not for His glory and for my good. And I must trust this. Fear and uncertainty have no place in my heart if I truly believe that this is the character of God. I know I'll have to spend the rest of my life learning this lesson, but in all the frustation of a new place, of looking for a job, etc., I have been given grace to trust that He is good, and will do what is good.

"Whoever is wise, let him understand these things;

whoever is discerning, let him know them;

for the ways of the Lord are right,

and the upright walk in them,

but transgressors stumble in them.

Hosea 14:9 (emphasis mine)

Aslan

Child, I am telling you your story.
I tell no one any story but his own.

Original artwork from The Horse and His Boy by Pauline Baynes

Brand New Life

I finally come here again, almost a full month later -- now a married woman (a wife!), with a new last name, a new home, a new place and calling and duties.

We live here!

(Image via MagazineUSA.com and the state of VA)

Andrew and I moved into our new home almost two weeks ago, and have been slowly chipping away at the boulder that is unpacking, organizing, and sorting the contents of our many boxes. It is quite ridiculous how much stuff two people can have.

Our first evening here, half the living room floor was covered in unopened wedding gifts, which we decided to open while we washed a load of towels. (We had no clean towels to shower with, no shower curtain, no anything when we got here.) Towels in the dryer, opened the first present. Our gift-opening enthusiasm was abruptly halted, however, when our washing machine began banging and thudding alarmingly. We leapt up to see water seeping onto our floor -- and all our towels were wet, in the washer! I finally unearthed a handful of dish towels, which we used to sop up the puddle, and Andrew stuck his head under the machine to diagnose it. The drum had become loose in the move, but his dad was coming the next day, so we thought we'd wait until then to fix it. I hauled the wet, soapy towels upstairs to the bathtub to rinse the soap out of them, threw them in the dryer, and we finished opening our presents. The joys of being a grown-up are many...

Through the mess, our house has become a home. The entire downstairs (living room, dining room, kitchen) is box-free, and most of the mess left is contained to the guest room/study, which will probably be a catch-all sort of room anyway.

I wish I could show you pictures, but Maine killed my camera. (Our honeymoon was in Maine; I haven't told you yet! So lovely.)

I feel like my life is defined now by its many changes. A new home. A husband. BFF Lindsay is now living in Korea (we got to see her before she left, though. Not that I miss her any less, but it helped). Now the thoughts turn to a new job. I am so intimidated by the prospect of finding a job. Irrationally, the thought grips my stomach with fear. I don't feel very brave right now.

But God is faithful, always.