Thursday, February 23, 2012

More Letters

dear jonathan toews,

it's pretty important that you come back and play as soon as possible, so it was a little frightening to hear that you had run your car into an L pole this morning. smooth move, ferguson. as someone referred to as "beloved" by nearly-always-snarky hockey bloggers, it is hard to underestimate how important you are to this team. please get better soon, and also maybe think about having someone drive you to practice when you are (allegedly) concussed.

love, laura

ps nice mercedes.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Letters To Corey

Today

dear corey crawford,
thank you for staying in your fucking crease. .955 sv% in the last few games feels good, doesn't it? keep it up.
love, laura

feb 16

dear corey crawford,
please stay in your fucking crease. thanks.
love, laura

feb 15

dear corey crawford,
i think you should spend some time trying to locate your talent. retracing your steps can help. maybe you left it under a locker room bench? or try the pockets of the pants you were wearing in november. don't bother asking ray emery. he doesn't have it. if you can't find it, it's a long shot, but when you are in new york on thursday, you could try asking henrik lundquist to borrow some.
love, laura


Monday, February 6, 2012

Delightful Quotes From A Delightful Book

The Sweetheart Season by Karen Joy Fowler. It's about a girl's baseball team in a small town in immediately-post-war Midwest America. But these quotes aren't about the plot, I just thought they were charming.

"'No good ever came to me from arm wrestling men,' my mother always told me, and these are the words I've tried to live by."

"Women used to say, I can weave better than Minerva, or Minerva's hair is not so beautiful as mine, or my fourteen children are better than Latona's two. Not, I need to lose ten pounds before I buy a bathing suit, or I hate my thighs. Those ancient women had some self-esteem."

"Some place where women wore their hair in a curtain over one eye and left the dark red imprint of their lips on their cigarettes. Some place where the women all had pasts and the men loved them helplessly in spite of it. The real Paris."

"She was an avid reader, which is almost the same thing as having friends."

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Nearly Six Years Out

There are songs that still remind me so strongly of narrow medieval streets paved in uneven cobbles slippery under my shoes coming home late and drunk after closing time. Nothing so sweet as that, and the sliding into worn pink-flowered sheets and resting my head against the cool concrete wall. Maybe I've never felt as safe as I did in viale Milton 41, with the mopeds droning by outside the French windows. I miss you.