It's a good day. I'm recovering from some kind of upper respiratory thing, with the help of prednesone (sic) and cough syrup. Now everyone else in the house is getting IT; but I'm at work. I am working at the library today so I get to look at books ... heaven!
I watered all of my plants (babies) at home this morning. The desert heat is starting to scorch everything so I have to water every day. My poor tomato plant almost died. It looked so great, getting bigger every day, about 3' tall, and suddenly, tomato worms devoured everything on the top .. no leaves at all! I found three of them, pull them off, squished them and, tada, today there's new growth. I had a wonderful watermelon plant in the middle of the grass in the back yard, but the g-babies found it and brought it in to show me (sigh). But the watermelon in the front yard, growing under the watchful eye of my sunflowers) is still intact. I lose some, and some survive despite the obstacles.
I made it to work on time, nearly, got my banking done, called the school district about my sub job (fall 2005) and found a great quote for a new poem. Here it is: voyers of death. Think about the possibilities ... incredible!
Good chat last night with my summer writing workshop group. I'll need all the help I can get to organize and write a whole book. So, I've started the outline, finished the first chapter and we'll see what the group thinks of my offerings, so far.
Sad news, Killer, our 16+ year old Persian is on the ropes. He's barely eating and drinking, and cries at night. It's so hard watching him go, a little at a time. Even the babies are noticing now and ask if he's okay. I'm trying to soft pedal it, but am trying to prepare the older ones (10 and 12) by explaining that no one and nothing lives forever. I'm hoping that they don't catch on that poppy (whose health has been sketchy since his back surgery) is not as vibrant as he was three years ago (sigh). Since he's Poppy's cat he'll take him to the vet tomorrow. Lots of stuff hanging over me, the cat, poppy, no wonder poetry about death intrigues me.
Mom is 82, Jerry (Poppy) is 55, I'm 55, Killer is about 80 in people years, and Paca, our female Akita is 12, which is elderly for an Akita. It's good that the babies (Aaron 4, Kat 10 and Katt 12) are living with us, they keep us young.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Blog Poem of the Day - June 30th of 05
What is the ocean made of?
Mermaid tears
coral spears
timid whales who've lost careers.
Minstrel's harps
razor sharp
maws of sharks who caught a dart.
Cupid's arrow
long and narrow
studed sailor's deepest marrow.
Fin of fish
urchin's itch
remains of storms unfailing pitch.
Ground as must
dust to dust
tangy salty totten trust
Mermaid tears
coral spears
timid whales who've lost careers.
Minstrel's harps
razor sharp
maws of sharks who caught a dart.
Cupid's arrow
long and narrow
studed sailor's deepest marrow.
Fin of fish
urchin's itch
remains of storms unfailing pitch.
Ground as must
dust to dust
tangy salty totten trust
Monday, June 27, 2005
Blog of the Day -- Monday June 27th
spring baits us
as teasing soft winds
gentle rains
draw us into
the heart of summer
warm sunlight dapples
through trees
drunk on rain
our backs
question mark against the bark
as we giggle, whisper and
giggle again
summer ponders our love
shading kisses
building green bowers
where our hidden love
grows
and wanes
as angry clouds carelessly
hurl lightening bolts
recrimination, fury, loss
tendrils of green
reach out to inhabit my grief
howls of anguish
tear the azure sky
and summer
remains
as teasing soft winds
gentle rains
draw us into
the heart of summer
warm sunlight dapples
through trees
drunk on rain
our backs
question mark against the bark
as we giggle, whisper and
giggle again
summer ponders our love
shading kisses
building green bowers
where our hidden love
grows
and wanes
as angry clouds carelessly
hurl lightening bolts
recrimination, fury, loss
tendrils of green
reach out to inhabit my grief
howls of anguish
tear the azure sky
and summer
remains
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Who Gnew? - June 25, 2005
Okay, today is Saturday. After cleaning all morning, not alone though, I am now at work.
At home, through finely honed senses I can hear my daughter yelling at her daughters. "Finish cleaning the living room! No, that bathroom is not done yet! Did you pick up your clothes in your bedroom? The dog run is not done yet! If you sit there doing nothing you will never get done!" Is this what I've passed down to the next generation, "Pick up your mess?" Maybe, but then again, maybe that's not so bad. Think of how the world might be if everyone cleaned up their own mess, hmm.
Maybe Hermes has started a trend, cleaning up its own mess. Or was it their mess anyway? Was it just a disgruntled famous woman who believes that a store who recognizes a celebrity should reopen for business. Maybe this will lead to an increase in business for signmakers everywhere who have to include opening and closing times for "Bankers Hours" for those who help bankroll the business.
And as far as our Supreme Court, whose mess are they cleaning up when they decide that economic development falls within the meaning of 'public use' as far as the 5th Amendment goes, otherwise known as eminent domain. In other words, if it is determined that it is in the public good (increased income from property taxes and more jobs) that your house be sold to a developer, then according to the Supreme Court, the 'Sold' sign is on your lawn. They also decided that each state could restrict this action. So, basically the Supreme Court got to rule on a Connecticut property case, in favor of the State over the homeowner, while still giving the last say to the state. Sounds like a 'hand off' to me.
At home, through finely honed senses I can hear my daughter yelling at her daughters. "Finish cleaning the living room! No, that bathroom is not done yet! Did you pick up your clothes in your bedroom? The dog run is not done yet! If you sit there doing nothing you will never get done!" Is this what I've passed down to the next generation, "Pick up your mess?" Maybe, but then again, maybe that's not so bad. Think of how the world might be if everyone cleaned up their own mess, hmm.
Maybe Hermes has started a trend, cleaning up its own mess. Or was it their mess anyway? Was it just a disgruntled famous woman who believes that a store who recognizes a celebrity should reopen for business. Maybe this will lead to an increase in business for signmakers everywhere who have to include opening and closing times for "Bankers Hours" for those who help bankroll the business.
And as far as our Supreme Court, whose mess are they cleaning up when they decide that economic development falls within the meaning of 'public use' as far as the 5th Amendment goes, otherwise known as eminent domain. In other words, if it is determined that it is in the public good (increased income from property taxes and more jobs) that your house be sold to a developer, then according to the Supreme Court, the 'Sold' sign is on your lawn. They also decided that each state could restrict this action. So, basically the Supreme Court got to rule on a Connecticut property case, in favor of the State over the homeowner, while still giving the last say to the state. Sounds like a 'hand off' to me.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Blahg Blahg Blahg
It was Sunday, the time it happened, the last time it happened. I was sitting in Anabell's Beauty Shop getting my nails done for my radio interview in Atlanta, on Monday morning. She never, I mean never, works on Sunday but I begged, and then I promised to make my supreme lemon pie, and she caved.
He came in out of nowhere. I mean, it's a Sunday, the shop has the big red sign in the window, CLOSED. He peered in past the sign, saw me, hands stuck in a bowl of soapy water, feet propped up on a red plastic chair, sipping a beer, lite beer. Then it happened. He opened the door.
"Uh, Sheriff?"
"Yeah," I set my beer on the wobbly table next to the bowl of soapy water. "What?"
"Um," he stared holes through Anabell's tall beehive. "It's kinda personal."
I sighed and glanced towards Anabell. "Um, girlfriend, would you mind if we...."
She groaned. "I give up my Sunday and now this? Okay, fine, you've got five minutes and then I've gotta paint the nails." His crushed look didn't work. "Oh, please, can the theatrics. Just get done so I can go eat my pie," she grumbled, turned, jerked open the door and slammed it behind her.
"Okay, she's gone. Now what is it?"
"Jakie took my bike again, for the fourth time," allegator tears threatened to erupt.
"Now, none of that. Okay, where is it this time?"
His face brightened, "Down Main Street. He said to bring my best shot, then him and his buddies laughed at me. Can you get it back?"
I looked at my watch. "How far down Main?"
"Just to the alley before Pine."
"Okay," I grabbed my holster, ignored the beer, grasped his skinny nine-year-old arm. "Let's go. I have four and a half minutes left."
"Thanks Sheriff," he giggled sheepishly.
"It's okay Davey. Just,next time."
"Yeah?"
"Stay in the neighborhood with that bike. I can't be shootin' up all the little kids in Stone Mountain, you know." I tried to look grim.
"Okay, mom."
He came in out of nowhere. I mean, it's a Sunday, the shop has the big red sign in the window, CLOSED. He peered in past the sign, saw me, hands stuck in a bowl of soapy water, feet propped up on a red plastic chair, sipping a beer, lite beer. Then it happened. He opened the door.
"Uh, Sheriff?"
"Yeah," I set my beer on the wobbly table next to the bowl of soapy water. "What?"
"Um," he stared holes through Anabell's tall beehive. "It's kinda personal."
I sighed and glanced towards Anabell. "Um, girlfriend, would you mind if we...."
She groaned. "I give up my Sunday and now this? Okay, fine, you've got five minutes and then I've gotta paint the nails." His crushed look didn't work. "Oh, please, can the theatrics. Just get done so I can go eat my pie," she grumbled, turned, jerked open the door and slammed it behind her.
"Okay, she's gone. Now what is it?"
"Jakie took my bike again, for the fourth time," allegator tears threatened to erupt.
"Now, none of that. Okay, where is it this time?"
His face brightened, "Down Main Street. He said to bring my best shot, then him and his buddies laughed at me. Can you get it back?"
I looked at my watch. "How far down Main?"
"Just to the alley before Pine."
"Okay," I grabbed my holster, ignored the beer, grasped his skinny nine-year-old arm. "Let's go. I have four and a half minutes left."
"Thanks Sheriff," he giggled sheepishly.
"It's okay Davey. Just,next time."
"Yeah?"
"Stay in the neighborhood with that bike. I can't be shootin' up all the little kids in Stone Mountain, you know." I tried to look grim.
"Okay, mom."
Blog of the Day - June 24, 2005
My writing assignment for today: Write about what you see by starlight. Feel free to join in!
By starlight
the moon spreads
her gossamer net
taking captive
hill, dale and stream
forest deep
andopen field
By starlight
dreary tenements
translate into
dusky streets
taut with mystery
and excitement
By starlight
houses ruined by daylight
become ensorcelled
enigmas
oracles of the unknown
By starlight
the debris of living
is transformed
into a Chinese puzzle
of night.
By starlight
the moon spreads
her gossamer net
taking captive
hill, dale and stream
forest deep
andopen field
By starlight
dreary tenements
translate into
dusky streets
taut with mystery
and excitement
By starlight
houses ruined by daylight
become ensorcelled
enigmas
oracles of the unknown
By starlight
the debris of living
is transformed
into a Chinese puzzle
of night.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
I'm taking a writing workshop this summer. It's fun, motivating and lots of work.
I rode to work this morning with the windows down. The late night plundering of now whispy nimbus relinquishes power to cirrus, sweet nector, is a gift from the gods. Cumulous cool, moist air catapulted into my lungs, crashing through veins and capillaries with glee. Like a tall glass of cool water, soggy oxygen poured through my body, icy and invigorating, an unstoppable flood. Saturated brain cells, reviving and reveling in the sustenance of life woke. Steamy clams, with hungry mouths they devoured their drippy feast, carousing with the exstacy of being alive!
I liked it too (lol!.
I rode to work this morning with the windows down. The late night plundering of now whispy nimbus relinquishes power to cirrus, sweet nector, is a gift from the gods. Cumulous cool, moist air catapulted into my lungs, crashing through veins and capillaries with glee. Like a tall glass of cool water, soggy oxygen poured through my body, icy and invigorating, an unstoppable flood. Saturated brain cells, reviving and reveling in the sustenance of life woke. Steamy clams, with hungry mouths they devoured their drippy feast, carousing with the exstacy of being alive!
I liked it too (lol!.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Blog of the Day - June 13, 2005
Well, it's not Friday the 13th, but it could be. I haven't blogged in a while. I've been busy and want to get my life in order before I jump into blogging. The only problem is, my life leans heavily towards disorder, so it's an unending battle to organize the unorganizeable. Is that a word? Hmmm.
Anyway, a name sparked my interest, and my creativity, tonight. So here's a poem to the Monkey Puzzle Tree. My blog for the moment.
Monkey Puzzle
Puzzle Tree
Puzzle you and
puzzle me
tall you stand
above the rest
more to follow
Anyway, a name sparked my interest, and my creativity, tonight. So here's a poem to the Monkey Puzzle Tree. My blog for the moment.
Monkey Puzzle
Puzzle Tree
Puzzle you and
puzzle me
tall you stand
above the rest
more to follow
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