Category Archives: Literature

A funny thing happened

We used to own goldfish. There were two of them, Swimmy and Splashy, and they lived in an old television that we stuffed with a fish tank and placed over our kitchen sink.

I know this because I wrote about them in a poem. I know about the poem because I found it today, while sorting through some of my portfolios from back when I was a creative writing major who wrote poems about things like goldfish.

But here’s the funny thing: neither Mitch nor I remember the goldfish. A dim, blinking light in the back of my memory confirms something about the television fish tank but little about the fish themselves (though presumably, they were gold). I don’t remember feeding them; I’m guessing that they died.

Maybe it’s my impending class reunion, or perhaps the second glass I’ve wine I’m working on now, but I’m a bit sad that we had so completely forgotten that detail about our first years of marriage. What else have we forgotten? I’m sure there are things that didn’t merit a poem that we don’t remember and so don’t miss. (Some of them did get a poem, but I’m still perplexed about the event that inspired it. For example, I found one titled “On the Way to Your Wedding,” but I have no idea whose wedding we were en route to.)

I’ll take a happy stance here, though, and suggest that so many good things have filled our memories over the course of the last eight years that there’s hardly space for remembering two simply named fish. We’ve lived in many small spaces with quirky neighbors and haphazard decor. We’ve made meals, hosted parties, taken up hobbies (and dropped them), lost objects, purchased new ones and seen friendships ebb and flow.

These years have been full, and they have been sweet. If I’m sorry to lose the memory of certain seasons, it’s a comfort to know that the ones I do remember are lovely, and the ones that I’ve forgotten aren’t gone. They may not be tucked away in an accordian file of old poetry, but someone does remember them, and He will remind me of them when they’re needed.


On shelves now

“Shelves” is an extremely general term in this case. If I were to be specific, I would say, “On my shelf now.” But I could be referring to your shelf as well, for reasons that will become clear in the next sentence or so.

Do you remember Little Red Riding Lu? Well, I put a picture book together for the girls through Blurb, and I thought I would give you the opportunity to order one as well. If you’re interested, comment below and I’ll get in touch with you, and give you further instructions.

Today, I’ll be blogging elsewhere

Jen at Artisan Home has kindly asked me to write a guest post for her blog, so I’d like to invite you over to her blog for the day. Artisan Home is a sweet site, run by the sweetest of ladies, and it’s chock full of crafting, cooking and hospitality, so please, loiter for a while. Enjoy yourselves!

As for my post, I won’t give you much in the way of summary, only this as a teaser:

(PS: that’s Lydia, not Sarah, and she still sleeps with that blanket.)

Little Red Riding Lu

Once upon a time, in the distant land of Living Room, there lived a girl named Lydia Lu. Because of the red hooded sweater she occasionally wore, her mother called her Little Red Riding Lu.

One day, Mother sent Little Red Riding Lu out with a basket of food to take to Grandmother, who was ill in bed.

(Just for good measure, let’s look at that grandmother again.)

Little Red Riding Lu’s grandmother lived all the way on the other side of the forest. To get to her house, Lu had to brave the dark and sinister Christmas Cactus Wood, but she hummed a bright tune as she walked along.

Unbeknownst to her, however, the Big Bad Wolf lurked nearby.

He was a bad seed, with a reputation for upsetting dishes, shredding origami boxes and pilfering baked goods from the kitchen counter. On this day, he was hungry for a helpless, elderly snack, so he hurried ahead of Little Red Riding Lu to Grandmother’s house.

He prepared to strike.

Once he finished with Grandmother, he decided to lie in wait for Little Red Riding Lu. The Big Bad Wolf was as clever as he was bad, so he disguised himself in Grandmother’s clothes, curled up in her bed and waited for Lu.

But though he was clever and bad, The Big Bad Wolf was not brave. When Lu burst into Grandmother’s cottage and cried, “Hi, Kitty!”, he coughed Grandmother back up like a hair ball, and fled.

(It was fortunate that he did so, by the way, because Sparrow the Woodcutter was fast asleep by the radiator in the Land of Bedroom. She would have been no help at all.)

With her grandmother restored to life and health, Little Red Riding Lu gave her the food that Mother had packed, and they feasted with great joy and thanksgiving.

Then, suspecting that it might rain, Little Red Riding Lu prepared to return home.

The trip home was uneventful, with chocolate milk waiting for her when she arrived.

(Note: This endeavor was inspired by these wonderful photos, which a friend sent to me in the midst of a rough morning. We dropped everything to play dress up for a while. We thought it was lovely, though Gunner disagreed.)

Like a job, but without the paycheck

Had you picked up a copy of this month’s What’s Up! magazine, you might have noticed, snuggled in the back amid the CD reviews, in itsy-bitsy italic print, my name, under two of this month’s reviews.

To all of the many things happening in the life of Rosenburg right now (baby! graduation! new job! moving!), I’ve added this: I’ve begun writing for What’s Up!, an event that fills me simultaneously with joy and terror. But mostly joy. And enthusiasm. I’m looking forward to listening to even more local music and then writing about it.

This, my friends, is my writing degree at work.


Lisa at Books on the Brain tagged me for a meme. Hooray! It’s about books and everything! Here goes:

1. Whatcha reading?

I’m re-reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Small Wonder, as well as reading J.I. Packer’s Knowing God and Tell is Slant, by Brenda Miller and Suzanne Paola. I’m also partway through Unceasing Worship, by Harold Best. For the sake of the meme, I’ll stick to Small Wonder.

2. How much of it have you read so far?

Previously, the entire book, but this time through I’m on page 14. This means I’ve completed the introduction and am partway through the first essay, “Small Wonder.”

3. What’s it about? (in a nutshell! A sentence or two is enough.)

Small Wonder is Kingsolver’s response to 9/11 spread out over several essays, most of which have nothing to do with 9/11 literally, but deal with aspects of the event either practically or abstractly.

4. What does the title refer to?

Miracles. Certain instances that seem to fly in the face of the darkness, violence and hate that seem to saturate the world at times. A bear who nurses a small boy, rather than devouring him. Little hopes. Small wonders.

5. Would you recommend it?

I would. Upon re-reading the book, I realize that I read it initially at a time when Kingsolver was exactly what I needed to hear. Sadly, this means that some of the power has gone out of her essays as I read them again at a very different point in my life, but they are still very good, and I would still recommend them.

I, in turn, tag Morgan (Morgan in Chile), Veronica Mitchell (Toddled Dredge), and Sarah (Wannabe Inkling). I can’t remember exactly how many people I’m supposed to tag, but three sounds about right to  me.

A deadline! How delightful.

Today I have the pleasure of guest posting over at Deep Muck Big Rake, so if you’re looking for content, why don’t you mosey on over there? I might have written my longest book review ever, just because I was so excited to be a guest blogger.

The fun of posting on somebody else’s blog is that it: a) gives me a deadline, and b) inspires me to edit and rewrite my post several times before pushing that big, scary “publish” button. Perhaps these are tactics I ought to employ more often on my own blog, eh?