Do you remember The Carpenters? Karen Carpenter used to sing this song, "Rainy Days and Mondays Get Me Down." What if the rainy day IS a Monday, too? But I will put my prejudices about Monday aside, and let myself enjoy a rainy day.
When a rainy day gets me down, I watch a Harry Potter movie, it doesn't matter which one. The location is modeled after the Highlands in Scotland, with lots of bleak, mountain vistas and wind, snow, rain, and/or winter going on. But all of that fits the magic going on in the plot. And so, on rainy days, I imagine I live in Hogsmead, and just have to trip up the road a bit to be outside the gates of Hogwarts. It cheers even the most gloomy of days.
Of course, I could always pretend that I am living in the Scottish Highlands, and really, the only thing lacking is the different sheep everywhere, lots of farms, and things that catch the eye, like fences built of huge slabs of shale, set on end into the ground. The trains are very clean, and the horses in that area are a bit more rugged that I could see, built for the cold. And the pastry shops! Oh, ye gods! No where in this small valley is a pastry shop that comes close.
You step in out of the cold and rain to greet the phalanx of pastries under gleaming glass counters. Tuna sandwiches are made to order, and there are soft drinks in a small cooler in the corner. For some reason, there is corn mixed in with the tuna. There are pastries oozing raspberry, and currants and fluffed with powdery sugar. There is no blackberry there, that I could find. Coffee is not an idea that is entertained, it being a prohibitively long way from South America for the casual offering up of coffees that you see in America.
What is offered is the lightest, flakiest bun, each with it's own halo of powdered sugar. You can eat all you want, because you have to walk or take the bus the rest of the day. For one breakfast there, my brother and I shared a dozen of the best raspberry pastries I will ever taste, straight out of the oven. I think I lost 2 lbs. that day from walking.
If you can't tell now that I haven't had breakfast, you haven't had that second cup of coffee, and so cannot think straight yet.
Run and get some. I'll see you tomorrow.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Old Moon
Last night was a full moon, and it so happened that a new snow fell in this small corner of the world. Unicorns are plenteous in the snow, and Ratty spent the night happily hunting. Which is not to say he didn't come in. And I took the dog, Max, out to say his farewells to the night, and the light of the full, old moon on the icy snow convinced us to stay out as long as we could. I could see my breath, and the rich velvet of the woods' shadows fell like iron bars on the field closest to us. I scattered what bread I had in the snow, for the dawn-feeders, and we came in, to a warm bed and some candles, scented like pine and cinnamon, and ginger.
It is truly winter in this small corner, and I am happy to see it come. It will be gone by next Tuesday, but it is a late Christmas present to see real winter come again.
Now, the Rat Cat and the fat dog sleep, and I have come to have coffee with you here and now. Or tea, if you prefer, I'm not a plutocrat. What is it you see outside of your window? There is still snow here, although it has warmed rapidly to a little above freezing, or 0 C. And it looks to be a bright day. I think it will be a laundry day, because there is nothing like the damp air coming out of a dryer to steam the windows and warm the dry, cold air.
I have been missing my blogs because it is the time to contemplate what I want to write, and what I want to do with what I write. February is spring for me. I suspect I am alone in this view in the small corner of the world I live in. Although that may be changing, global warming being what it is. I used to walk everyday in the winters, and by March, there was so much daylight it was useless to insist it was winter, still. So I set my own time back, and list February as a spring month now.
Anyway, Spring is almost here by my clock. And since the earth is washed clean in the spring, I feel renewed. I may not feel that way forever, so I look at this year as one to gather and edit my works, and publish. And if anyone out there wants to weigh in with their opinion on what and how I write, feel free to contact me. Constructive criticism please.
It is truly winter in this small corner, and I am happy to see it come. It will be gone by next Tuesday, but it is a late Christmas present to see real winter come again.
Now, the Rat Cat and the fat dog sleep, and I have come to have coffee with you here and now. Or tea, if you prefer, I'm not a plutocrat. What is it you see outside of your window? There is still snow here, although it has warmed rapidly to a little above freezing, or 0 C. And it looks to be a bright day. I think it will be a laundry day, because there is nothing like the damp air coming out of a dryer to steam the windows and warm the dry, cold air.
I have been missing my blogs because it is the time to contemplate what I want to write, and what I want to do with what I write. February is spring for me. I suspect I am alone in this view in the small corner of the world I live in. Although that may be changing, global warming being what it is. I used to walk everyday in the winters, and by March, there was so much daylight it was useless to insist it was winter, still. So I set my own time back, and list February as a spring month now.
Anyway, Spring is almost here by my clock. And since the earth is washed clean in the spring, I feel renewed. I may not feel that way forever, so I look at this year as one to gather and edit my works, and publish. And if anyone out there wants to weigh in with their opinion on what and how I write, feel free to contact me. Constructive criticism please.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Peace Out
Life can be triggering; a social life with other humans. Nature hasn't triggered anything but good, in all the years I have dealt with her. My life with animals hasn't triggered anything bad, either. Animals are more of a flood of joy than anything else. But interaction with other people is problematic at times...it is the same for all who have an MI, (mental illness.)
I believe that everyone has that trait, one way or the other; we all fight, or love, at our peril. And the truth is, I don't know why I am labeled the way I am...I don't feel any different than anyone else. I mean, I don't think I express any emotion that is outside of the human range. Of course I don't.
Some well-worn posts on FB and some news stories do make it seem as if people with MIs do feel things no one else does. But this is nonsense...people with MIs are people all the same. It just seems that my reactions to differing events is too much of a reaction for some. An example is my deepest rage and fear, and outrage and sometimes love, is expressed in a way that is too much: for my family, for others I know and for strangers. "Drama Queen," "Too intense." I have heard it all.
Despite my jokes, and the controversy raging in the news about Newtown and the 'gun debate', I don't really take an anti-Evil pill every morning. People with MIs are not innately evil, anymore than anyone else...but the times, they are a changing. The captains who perpetuated the massacre at My Lai, or Wounded Knee are held responsible for terrible events. They aren't slapped with the label of Mental Illness and THEN held responsible.
Once again, humans have looked at the question, "What is it about us that makes us do evil?" and have been fooled into thinking that a question that can be put so easily and concisely, can be answered in an easy and concise way with two words, "Mental Illness."
Humans have been violent through all of history, and a simple two word answer is not an answer at all, but a sound byte. Answering the Slaughter of the Innocents with the diagnosis of 'mental illness' is just too pat. Aberrations and evil are illnesses. But I see it as a genetic defect and a nurture defect. It is also a societal defect.
But all of that will be flushed down the toilet in the debates. Has already been. I just ask that, if you want to slap the label of mental illness on distorted thinking coupled with aggressive action, then we think of some different words for personality disorders. Instead of lumping the two groups all together and throwing the baby out with the bathwater, as Granny used to say.
As for guns...I am a pacifist, but have pulled a Glock on an intruder trying to break into my home. I thought of killing a stranger, and decided against it. I decided I wanted to see whom I was killing or wounding. After that, I learned to move around my house quietly, in total darkness, with a frying pan and a heavy iron bar. No flies on me.
And it is my considered opinion, that everyone's 'right' to a material thing, a gun, does not supplant everyone's innate right to Life, Liberty and our peaceful Pursuits. Rights do not belong to material things. Rights belong to humans and animals and the earth (as an environmental being.) Nor do I believe a law should give anyone any 'right' over my body, over and above what I consider my well being. Just throwing that in to let you know how I really feel about Life, the Universe, and Everything (Douglas Adams.)
It is good to look for an answer to evil, and aggression. It is not good to think the answer will be simple. But assault rifles are simple machines for a single purpose and are shallow enough to be answered in a simple way...by being banned.
These are all the answers I have today. Tomorrow I will have more answers, and the day after.
And to my Pdoc peeps, sorry about the triggers and Peace Out. Core mindfulness is always the answer. Breathe. Love you.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Bee Vomit*
*For those of you who don't know or like the page on Facebook, "I fucking love Science"
And it sleets in this part of the world. Which exactly matches my mood this morning. Kinda silvery, fragile, yet dangerous...
One of the unicorn meat eating cats is desperately trying to imitate being a computer key, so he can get all the strokes I am giving the keyboard. It's also hard to pry him away from the nice fan that pumps cat-warm air from underneath the laptop. But I do have to draw the line when he lies down on the keyboard.
********
Facing the emotions left over from a scarring incident is harder to live through than the scarring incident. The broad look is this: women are supposed to feel and express positive emotions. Focusing on and expressing emotions like rage, hopelessness, fear, anger, and vulnerability is so hard that I cannot think of a way to describe it...except as a scene from a forest. You are walking in a beautiful wood, and run across a circle of trees struck by lightening, or a sudden, sharp downblast of wind. The trees are still lovely and green, but the exquisitely sharp teeth of the broken trunks gleam...
Your heart is broken for the ravaged grove, and silence cloaks the trees nearby. A feeling of contemplation is in the air. And horror. You stop and stare. You have never seen the like. You feel as frozen as the sap on the trunks. In time, moss will grow and creatures rework this grove until the signs of grief disappear.
Nothing breaks the silence as you leave the wood, except for the quiet drone of bees...
And it sleets in this part of the world. Which exactly matches my mood this morning. Kinda silvery, fragile, yet dangerous...
One of the unicorn meat eating cats is desperately trying to imitate being a computer key, so he can get all the strokes I am giving the keyboard. It's also hard to pry him away from the nice fan that pumps cat-warm air from underneath the laptop. But I do have to draw the line when he lies down on the keyboard.
********
Facing the emotions left over from a scarring incident is harder to live through than the scarring incident. The broad look is this: women are supposed to feel and express positive emotions. Focusing on and expressing emotions like rage, hopelessness, fear, anger, and vulnerability is so hard that I cannot think of a way to describe it...except as a scene from a forest. You are walking in a beautiful wood, and run across a circle of trees struck by lightening, or a sudden, sharp downblast of wind. The trees are still lovely and green, but the exquisitely sharp teeth of the broken trunks gleam...
Your heart is broken for the ravaged grove, and silence cloaks the trees nearby. A feeling of contemplation is in the air. And horror. You stop and stare. You have never seen the like. You feel as frozen as the sap on the trunks. In time, moss will grow and creatures rework this grove until the signs of grief disappear.
Nothing breaks the silence as you leave the wood, except for the quiet drone of bees...
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Wilderness of the Mind
You know you have one up there, too. I have a dear friend who wrote her Master's thesis on all the meanings of wilderness, which included the wilderness inside of us and outside. And I know that my forte is writing about the natural world that surrounds me. Something there is in nature that pulls at me with me with all it's force; and produces the most passionate writings I can give you.
But, while I could fill my blog with passages of the changes of the seasons, there must be time for the wilderness of the mind. Simply, my thoughts intrude. So hang in there, when I grow retrospective; it is all part and parcel, like meat loves salt.*
And if my worldview collides with yours, that's ok with me. It may not be ok with you, however. But I am writing this blog, as an expression of myself, and so all that I write is simply my own opinion. I do love my readers, and have met some very fascinating, deep people through my blog. I am eternally thankful to meet others who care as I do.
Meanwhile, the dog, whom I found out is NOT a Corgi mix, but a Red Tick mix, is snoring deeply and sleeping soundly. I won't treat him any differently after finding he is a Red Tick mix. He will get the same food, and receive the same amount of love. He finally had to "go" so badly last night, that he consented to be led out into the rains, and tied to his traveling line. He got so excited about that, that when he came back in, he proceeded firmly to my bed, as fast as he could, artfully bypassing the towel I had waiting.
Georgia plays this morning, but the two boys are settled in for the duration of the rain. As am I.
It is not a pounding rain we are having in this small corner of the world, nor a driving rain. But some soft, spring rains that we need so badly. My grief at the rapid climate change is punctuated by the drought that has it's hold on us. Where is the cold? The rain? The ice? Where is the winter?
And the Doomsday Clock stands firmly at 5 minutes to midnight, as international organizations urge the U.S. to join the fight for the preservation of our climate; the health of this small earth.
For me? Spring starts in February. When I was very ill, and walked everyday for the medicine of it, I was so surprised at how brightly the light showed, and how late it lingered in February. There is nothing like the sunlight on Tinker Creek...
Good morning...
*Grandfather Tales
But, while I could fill my blog with passages of the changes of the seasons, there must be time for the wilderness of the mind. Simply, my thoughts intrude. So hang in there, when I grow retrospective; it is all part and parcel, like meat loves salt.*
And if my worldview collides with yours, that's ok with me. It may not be ok with you, however. But I am writing this blog, as an expression of myself, and so all that I write is simply my own opinion. I do love my readers, and have met some very fascinating, deep people through my blog. I am eternally thankful to meet others who care as I do.
Meanwhile, the dog, whom I found out is NOT a Corgi mix, but a Red Tick mix, is snoring deeply and sleeping soundly. I won't treat him any differently after finding he is a Red Tick mix. He will get the same food, and receive the same amount of love. He finally had to "go" so badly last night, that he consented to be led out into the rains, and tied to his traveling line. He got so excited about that, that when he came back in, he proceeded firmly to my bed, as fast as he could, artfully bypassing the towel I had waiting.
Georgia plays this morning, but the two boys are settled in for the duration of the rain. As am I.
It is not a pounding rain we are having in this small corner of the world, nor a driving rain. But some soft, spring rains that we need so badly. My grief at the rapid climate change is punctuated by the drought that has it's hold on us. Where is the cold? The rain? The ice? Where is the winter?
And the Doomsday Clock stands firmly at 5 minutes to midnight, as international organizations urge the U.S. to join the fight for the preservation of our climate; the health of this small earth.
For me? Spring starts in February. When I was very ill, and walked everyday for the medicine of it, I was so surprised at how brightly the light showed, and how late it lingered in February. There is nothing like the sunlight on Tinker Creek...
Good morning...
*Grandfather Tales
Monday, January 14, 2013
Dog Walk
My mantra for a while had been, "It's not all about me." Now that I am better, my mantra is, "Sometimes it is, indeed, all about me." That is, I am working on myself at this point in my life, while keeping an eye on the whole, the dynamic system which is my world. This world includes others, and so I poke my head up now and again to see how everyone is doing, center myself on the most steadfast persons I know, and promptly go back to working on me: my attitudes, habits and choices. Believe me, you are better off that I do...
After falling out of my very best habits, over the holidays, I am back to a good routine. And I have been rewarded this morning by the soft rains falling over the mountains. The heat wave from the weekend is dissipating, thank the universe, and we are heading for some arctic blasts in a week or so. My promise to myself today? To walk the dog, if I can get him to go out in a fine mist. He has already decided today, that he doesn't have to pee, so much as to stay dry, and wouldn't let me tie him out. For a former country-stray, this dog is mighty picky.
Georgia wants out, but I have decided she is an indoor only cat, now. To wait and watch for her wild predecessor, Echo, to come back from the hunt, sometimes for days, took it's toll. Oh, my Echo! Her small presence still sleeps at the foot of the bed.
I have a small clock that I got a long time ago, and right now the only sound I hear is that clock ticking. And the soft pad pad of Minkins' feet. Rarely do I get a quiet morning like this one. And so I feel very peaceful. I will keep an eye on the rain, but am determined to walk today, dog or not. Time for the anti-evil pill...
After falling out of my very best habits, over the holidays, I am back to a good routine. And I have been rewarded this morning by the soft rains falling over the mountains. The heat wave from the weekend is dissipating, thank the universe, and we are heading for some arctic blasts in a week or so. My promise to myself today? To walk the dog, if I can get him to go out in a fine mist. He has already decided today, that he doesn't have to pee, so much as to stay dry, and wouldn't let me tie him out. For a former country-stray, this dog is mighty picky.
Georgia wants out, but I have decided she is an indoor only cat, now. To wait and watch for her wild predecessor, Echo, to come back from the hunt, sometimes for days, took it's toll. Oh, my Echo! Her small presence still sleeps at the foot of the bed.
I have a small clock that I got a long time ago, and right now the only sound I hear is that clock ticking. And the soft pad pad of Minkins' feet. Rarely do I get a quiet morning like this one. And so I feel very peaceful. I will keep an eye on the rain, but am determined to walk today, dog or not. Time for the anti-evil pill...
Saturday, January 12, 2013
The Wilderness
Well, for the first time, someone in Nigeria has actually discovered my blog, or so Blogger says. If you believe him...
I have a unicorn meat eating cat sitting by my side purring, and swaying to the rhythm of the purrs. Ratty spent all day outdoors yesterday, rolling in the grass, and finding just the right spot to sleep in. And while I love balmy days, I used to love the ice storms we got every winter...and the arctic wind blowing snow. Global warming is moving a lot faster, I think, than some may believe. And so, I am happy to be finite, as I love all aspects of the Earth, and do not mind her cold and snow enough to wish it summer year round.
But you know that I love the bare bones of Winter by now. The darker colors of bark, the sharp shadows of the trees on the gold fields, and the stark, bright sunlight illuminate the goldenrod bones. There is no lack of color in the Winter, simply a more 'natural' coloring. The colors match the creatures of the forest now, and they drift slowly through the trees. They eat as they go, or sleep in dens...The dusky blue and purple and sand colors are more harmonious than the Summer colors, less riotous. Sometimes, a flash of a red cardinal goes from one branch to another, and the scent of pine underneath is intoxicating. A picked flower rolled between the hands drifts seeds and chaff into the wind and stillness. And my dog sniffs the wind.
This is the quiet, lonely time of the year, that we need to feel complete. There is a sense of the wildness of the wind in the season, that holds us to the edge of the forest. We listen and long for that of which we know but a little.
It is good for us to be lonely this way, to be scudded by the wind as if we were clouds. And clouds we are indeed, always passing. It is good for us to listen to the sound of the wind, as it blows around the world and back. And mountain dwellers know that the wind blows through the loneliest hollows of the earth, and brings that sound back to us; the small winter groaning of the hills...and the music of the forests that live there.
We are wild creatures at this time of year, listening to the sound of snow, and the careful stillness that falls with it. I miss the echoes that come with the snow and the ice. And maybe you do, too. As we miss the fire that comes with winter...
I have a unicorn meat eating cat sitting by my side purring, and swaying to the rhythm of the purrs. Ratty spent all day outdoors yesterday, rolling in the grass, and finding just the right spot to sleep in. And while I love balmy days, I used to love the ice storms we got every winter...and the arctic wind blowing snow. Global warming is moving a lot faster, I think, than some may believe. And so, I am happy to be finite, as I love all aspects of the Earth, and do not mind her cold and snow enough to wish it summer year round.
But you know that I love the bare bones of Winter by now. The darker colors of bark, the sharp shadows of the trees on the gold fields, and the stark, bright sunlight illuminate the goldenrod bones. There is no lack of color in the Winter, simply a more 'natural' coloring. The colors match the creatures of the forest now, and they drift slowly through the trees. They eat as they go, or sleep in dens...The dusky blue and purple and sand colors are more harmonious than the Summer colors, less riotous. Sometimes, a flash of a red cardinal goes from one branch to another, and the scent of pine underneath is intoxicating. A picked flower rolled between the hands drifts seeds and chaff into the wind and stillness. And my dog sniffs the wind.
This is the quiet, lonely time of the year, that we need to feel complete. There is a sense of the wildness of the wind in the season, that holds us to the edge of the forest. We listen and long for that of which we know but a little.
It is good for us to be lonely this way, to be scudded by the wind as if we were clouds. And clouds we are indeed, always passing. It is good for us to listen to the sound of the wind, as it blows around the world and back. And mountain dwellers know that the wind blows through the loneliest hollows of the earth, and brings that sound back to us; the small winter groaning of the hills...and the music of the forests that live there.
We are wild creatures at this time of year, listening to the sound of snow, and the careful stillness that falls with it. I miss the echoes that come with the snow and the ice. And maybe you do, too. As we miss the fire that comes with winter...
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Medication
Switching to a Google + account has apparently screwed up my blog. Thanks Google and Blogger...no, I don't want to sign in on Google...every day it's something.
Of course, it has nothing to do with waking at 2:30 am. After all, the cats are awake at that hour...
But I really wanted to talk about my meds today...do you like your medicines? I am taking a new one, that apparently works...I don't feel paranoid anymore. I don't feel anything anymore. And I eat. Who thought this was a good idea? And, as always, there are X rated effects, but all the meds have that. It's like really wishing to see unicorns because you believe so much to hope that, one day, crazy meds won't have any effect on our sex drive.
But yes, the decision is now, emotions or not? Sex drive or not is not a question. You give up all hope of that the day after you are diagnosed. And this seems a good point to weigh into the non-debate about a "mental health registry." Oh, you mean keep an eye on the people who bother to go to a doctor, despite the expense and trouble and stigma, and get diagnosed? Or the ones who actually take their meds? Did anyone see any previous diagnosis on the Sandy Hook killer? Oh, wait, maybe you want to register disenfranchised, white, male teenagers who mothers are gun advocates? That last list I would go for.
Why? Because the sad FACT is: all these multiple, assault rifle killers are young, white men. Who has the most power in the country? Older white men. It's what they don't want to look at. There is a corollary.
Enough already. I don't want to blow a gasket, but Newtown is passing us by, and soon, more than nothing will be done.
So, new topic: I love these early mornings watching the dog snore, and the unicorn meat eating cats park themselves near the blower on the bottom of the computer. I have moved my electric heater so Georgia is not stuck in a cold corner on a fake sheepskin, which is now sprinkled with catnip. Apparently, I have an unending need for quiet time, me time. Either that, or I just love sitting in bed drinking coffee and smoking my head off.
I love less, the unseasonal weather coming our way. Balmy weather in winter is nothing to rejoice in, in my view. I want the flea eggs dead, dead, and dead. I don't want to have to buy flea protection in January. I don't want to have to wash my bedsheets and vacuum every freaking single day, like I did last summer, because we had a mild winter before that. I am not attached to housework as all that.
Ah, well. What else is there to talk about at 5 am besides some rambling blitherings?
Of course, it has nothing to do with waking at 2:30 am. After all, the cats are awake at that hour...
But I really wanted to talk about my meds today...do you like your medicines? I am taking a new one, that apparently works...I don't feel paranoid anymore. I don't feel anything anymore. And I eat. Who thought this was a good idea? And, as always, there are X rated effects, but all the meds have that. It's like really wishing to see unicorns because you believe so much to hope that, one day, crazy meds won't have any effect on our sex drive.
But yes, the decision is now, emotions or not? Sex drive or not is not a question. You give up all hope of that the day after you are diagnosed. And this seems a good point to weigh into the non-debate about a "mental health registry." Oh, you mean keep an eye on the people who bother to go to a doctor, despite the expense and trouble and stigma, and get diagnosed? Or the ones who actually take their meds? Did anyone see any previous diagnosis on the Sandy Hook killer? Oh, wait, maybe you want to register disenfranchised, white, male teenagers who mothers are gun advocates? That last list I would go for.
Why? Because the sad FACT is: all these multiple, assault rifle killers are young, white men. Who has the most power in the country? Older white men. It's what they don't want to look at. There is a corollary.
Enough already. I don't want to blow a gasket, but Newtown is passing us by, and soon, more than nothing will be done.
So, new topic: I love these early mornings watching the dog snore, and the unicorn meat eating cats park themselves near the blower on the bottom of the computer. I have moved my electric heater so Georgia is not stuck in a cold corner on a fake sheepskin, which is now sprinkled with catnip. Apparently, I have an unending need for quiet time, me time. Either that, or I just love sitting in bed drinking coffee and smoking my head off.
I love less, the unseasonal weather coming our way. Balmy weather in winter is nothing to rejoice in, in my view. I want the flea eggs dead, dead, and dead. I don't want to have to buy flea protection in January. I don't want to have to wash my bedsheets and vacuum every freaking single day, like I did last summer, because we had a mild winter before that. I am not attached to housework as all that.
Ah, well. What else is there to talk about at 5 am besides some rambling blitherings?
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Crown
The dog gets pissed when I wake so early, and buries his head in the blanket to shut out the light. The cats are ecstatic...they love water out of place and the early morning hours. I think they shape my dreams, being dreamy characters, and they have to be awake and roaming in the early hours to chase mine.
Last night I dreamed that I was a bull-rider in the county circuit, and that my Mom was alive, and I was still taking care of her. I won a crown for the bull riding, but lost it the same day to another competitor. For some reason, the county ladies association had asked Mom to cook some suet, and she couldn't remember how because of her dementia.
I think it was the tuna salad that I made yesterday. Mom was known far and wide for cooking two things...her tuna salad and her potato salad. Many who have eaten these have been sucked up into their own private Rapture, just from the taste. I learned to make it long ago, as a peeler of eggs for the tuna salad, and a peeler of potatoes for the potato salad.
Many of my earliest memories of growing up surround her peeling potatoes. She was forever on some kind of diet, and we did not eat junk food. "Fast food" was a piece of potato snatched from the cold water she soaked them in, after she peeled and diced them. To this day, I love the taste of a raw potato.
In February, it will have been 3 years since she died. And I still dream that I take care of her as I peel the eggs...
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Meditation
True winter sun came out yesterday for a time, and I drove through the hills of the neighboring county until I was filled with it.
I have, for the first time in months, bought some coffee by the pound from Mill Mountain Coffee and Tea (MMCT) and I am trying not to jump out of my skin. I love to go to MMCT, just to hang out. The baristas are always young and hip, quite funny considering my father's generation grew up inhaling coffee. But all the stores have comfortable chairs, and big, big windows. The floors are wood, and so reflect the sun coming in the windows. They cook and grind their own coffee, and the scent when you walk in is better than the coffee itself. It's composed of tea, herbal and otherwise, coffees from around the world, bottles of flavorings, and the unbelievable desserts sitting in a glass case as you walk in, which is just cruel. Cruel, I tell you, just cruel.
I mean, who can consume dark, handsome coffee and deny the Snickers pie? Only a madman. My favorite MMCT is in the small town of Daleville, where I used to live. Simply the charms listed above, and the familiarity makes it my fav.
I sit next to my Corgi mix this morning, who deeply sleeps and makes me want to do the same, I try to remember why I thought espresso had any caffeine in it, as I sip Tanzania Peaberry. I have already headed off an argument between the unicorn meat eating cats, and assured Max he doesn't need to go outside at this hour. Ah, the small things that make up our day.
And today, I will spend more time in the sunlight, and watch the gold fields with their tree shadows shifting in the wind. Enjoy your coffee or tea this morning, and know I am thinking of you.
I have, for the first time in months, bought some coffee by the pound from Mill Mountain Coffee and Tea (MMCT) and I am trying not to jump out of my skin. I love to go to MMCT, just to hang out. The baristas are always young and hip, quite funny considering my father's generation grew up inhaling coffee. But all the stores have comfortable chairs, and big, big windows. The floors are wood, and so reflect the sun coming in the windows. They cook and grind their own coffee, and the scent when you walk in is better than the coffee itself. It's composed of tea, herbal and otherwise, coffees from around the world, bottles of flavorings, and the unbelievable desserts sitting in a glass case as you walk in, which is just cruel. Cruel, I tell you, just cruel.
I mean, who can consume dark, handsome coffee and deny the Snickers pie? Only a madman. My favorite MMCT is in the small town of Daleville, where I used to live. Simply the charms listed above, and the familiarity makes it my fav.
I sit next to my Corgi mix this morning, who deeply sleeps and makes me want to do the same, I try to remember why I thought espresso had any caffeine in it, as I sip Tanzania Peaberry. I have already headed off an argument between the unicorn meat eating cats, and assured Max he doesn't need to go outside at this hour. Ah, the small things that make up our day.
And today, I will spend more time in the sunlight, and watch the gold fields with their tree shadows shifting in the wind. Enjoy your coffee or tea this morning, and know I am thinking of you.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Same Time, This Year
Yes, Congress revoked their pay raise, fearing they wouldn't be reelected, no doubt, and proving that the voice of the American people can still be heard, out there in the distance, like the snort of a unicorn in a field...
Of course, the Violence Against Women Act is still unendorsed and lives in limbo. Which is just unexcuseable. If anything, you and I know it should be expanded.
The newest unicorn meat eating cat, Georgia, brave girl, made it all the way to the bed this morning. I suppose she decided that anyone who feeds her unicorn meat can't be all that bad. And so my arms were filled with her smallish body, gray and gold, and soft, soft, and purring. Ratty Catty is face down on the bed covers, and Minkins is hiding under the bed, his favorite scene.
And the days are getting longer, minute by minute, everyday. And February starts my favorite time of the year, as I count it a month of Spring. I suppose there are some who think of it as pre-Spring, the last of the Winter months...but not me.
I have walked on the Hollins campus in February, and have never seen a sky so clear, or smelled air so fresh. At this time, the sunlight has nothing in it's way, and it beams run like clear water in the air. The shadows of the trees are dark against the green of the moss, and Tinker Creek rushes like black silver between it's banks. The sand colored gravel Hollins lays down is more gold in the winter. And I walk knowing that soon, a pale green mist will blanket the trees. Not enough to hide their bones, but just enough to form their hair. Rock is dark gray this month, and the moss on it stands in giddy profusion.
I wait for the sun to rise...or the clouds to lift this morning, I can't tell which, yet. And so I'll see you tomorrow, same time, same place.
Of course, the Violence Against Women Act is still unendorsed and lives in limbo. Which is just unexcuseable. If anything, you and I know it should be expanded.
The newest unicorn meat eating cat, Georgia, brave girl, made it all the way to the bed this morning. I suppose she decided that anyone who feeds her unicorn meat can't be all that bad. And so my arms were filled with her smallish body, gray and gold, and soft, soft, and purring. Ratty Catty is face down on the bed covers, and Minkins is hiding under the bed, his favorite scene.
And the days are getting longer, minute by minute, everyday. And February starts my favorite time of the year, as I count it a month of Spring. I suppose there are some who think of it as pre-Spring, the last of the Winter months...but not me.
I have walked on the Hollins campus in February, and have never seen a sky so clear, or smelled air so fresh. At this time, the sunlight has nothing in it's way, and it beams run like clear water in the air. The shadows of the trees are dark against the green of the moss, and Tinker Creek rushes like black silver between it's banks. The sand colored gravel Hollins lays down is more gold in the winter. And I walk knowing that soon, a pale green mist will blanket the trees. Not enough to hide their bones, but just enough to form their hair. Rock is dark gray this month, and the moss on it stands in giddy profusion.
I wait for the sun to rise...or the clouds to lift this morning, I can't tell which, yet. And so I'll see you tomorrow, same time, same place.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Hard Boiled Egg
Whoa! Who would've believed that I could make it to the New Year last night. But indeed, my sleep patterns are so messed up I was actually able to 'ring in' the New Year, albeit, on the computer next to the dog, Max, and Ratty Catty maneuvering for the best spot on the bed.
I haven't checked the news yet this morning, but heard Congress adjourned without a resolution to the fiscal cliff...while managing to give themselves a raise. O, dear reader! I believe in Obama, but what was he thinking when he signed this one? We need to rise up, People!
This is the kind of news that tells me to wear my Sassy Pants today...
I suppose today is a day of celebration and reflection, if you insist. The thing is, I do so much reflecting anyway, being a writer, that I would like to take a day off from pondering and relax. I know my writer friends know what I mean.
And of course, the news will be filled today with everyone's lists of 'good and bad', if you're into that dichotomy. But, having coffee with you this morning, I have no list to offer. You should feel good about that; I just want to smell the coffee and spend time talking with you. I would like to feel new in this old world. And wish everyone would behave the way I think they should...but that is not going to happen, and is a pattern of thought I have abandoned for the much better one of "Live and Let Live."
Not that I can't protest if I think you are wrong...but apparently the government doesn't see it that way. The scary news that the FBI, and some other government agencies investigated, cracked down on, and may have planned assassinations toward, the "Occupy" movement is the scariest thing I can think of for the New Year, my friends.
To me, the Occupy movement is the epitome of peaceful and lawful speaking of the mind(s). And to think that the government considers that a physical and internal threat, means way too many people have way too much power, money and time on their hands. It is the breakdown of our civilization. Rome was not known for such lengths, but Hitler's Germany was. So was Stalin's Russia.
I would like to paint a cheerier picture this morning. There is always Hope. But, my friends, I put it to you that I have lived without Hope, and it's not life.
I don't make New Year's resolutions, why set myself up for failure? But I do resolve, here and now, and I hope I resolve in your company, that I will be involved more this year. That I will speak up, until I am silenced. That I will work for the Human, and the other nations of Animals, and not for the company profit personhood that has overtaken the world, and now seeks to stifle us.
Look around you this morning, and thank whatever force of the Universe you belong to, that others surround you. And hopefully, they love you as much as you love them. Because that is the Hope the World rests on. You are Hope.
I haven't checked the news yet this morning, but heard Congress adjourned without a resolution to the fiscal cliff...while managing to give themselves a raise. O, dear reader! I believe in Obama, but what was he thinking when he signed this one? We need to rise up, People!
This is the kind of news that tells me to wear my Sassy Pants today...
I suppose today is a day of celebration and reflection, if you insist. The thing is, I do so much reflecting anyway, being a writer, that I would like to take a day off from pondering and relax. I know my writer friends know what I mean.
And of course, the news will be filled today with everyone's lists of 'good and bad', if you're into that dichotomy. But, having coffee with you this morning, I have no list to offer. You should feel good about that; I just want to smell the coffee and spend time talking with you. I would like to feel new in this old world. And wish everyone would behave the way I think they should...but that is not going to happen, and is a pattern of thought I have abandoned for the much better one of "Live and Let Live."
Not that I can't protest if I think you are wrong...but apparently the government doesn't see it that way. The scary news that the FBI, and some other government agencies investigated, cracked down on, and may have planned assassinations toward, the "Occupy" movement is the scariest thing I can think of for the New Year, my friends.
To me, the Occupy movement is the epitome of peaceful and lawful speaking of the mind(s). And to think that the government considers that a physical and internal threat, means way too many people have way too much power, money and time on their hands. It is the breakdown of our civilization. Rome was not known for such lengths, but Hitler's Germany was. So was Stalin's Russia.
I would like to paint a cheerier picture this morning. There is always Hope. But, my friends, I put it to you that I have lived without Hope, and it's not life.
I don't make New Year's resolutions, why set myself up for failure? But I do resolve, here and now, and I hope I resolve in your company, that I will be involved more this year. That I will speak up, until I am silenced. That I will work for the Human, and the other nations of Animals, and not for the company profit personhood that has overtaken the world, and now seeks to stifle us.
Look around you this morning, and thank whatever force of the Universe you belong to, that others surround you. And hopefully, they love you as much as you love them. Because that is the Hope the World rests on. You are Hope.
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