#whimsh all righty then.  you’re lucky i didn’t try to throw in socks and death.

59. Write a POEM about your mother.

48. Write a POEM entitled ” Gravity’s Echo”

41. Write SOMETHING using the line ” Everything leaves a husk.”

29. Write a POEM using the following words: seed-pod, toes, dragon, syrup, membrane, ice

58. Write a POEM using the words zenith, ash, tiger lilies, breath, membrane, map.

Gravity’s Echo

As inevitable as gravity, the passage of time

Mother aging, relationship must change.

A membrane, delicate as ice. cold. hard.

On top of thousands of slights felt

For years beyond their need.

To this day she doesn’t know about green beans-

Those seed-pods turn to unpalatable glob of ash

Of how can you not know what your daughter dislikes.

The dragon of jealousy and non-forgiveness.

She did what she could as all mothers do.

Syrup on pancakes, dripping off and soaking in,

Sometimes the sweetness to the other

Waves as tiger lilies on a sultry August evening

And sometimes it’s the hot breath

Of the unfeeling sun at its zenith.

But then there was the strike of age

That made me see the future map

And I know that I am wrong to my toes-

That I must be the one to mend the membrane

Make it warm and strong because someday

I will know that everything leaves a husk.

The echo of intention replaces the

Loud thud of what was perceived

#whimsh 45. Write a FLASH FICTION entitled “Sonata”

She sat at the piano bench, short legs resting on a covered box.  The teacher taught simple songs and gave stickers for songs well played.  His hand gently reminded her of the correct hand position.  She practiced. 

Covered box no longer needed, reminders no longer required, but still received, she practiced.  Short excerpts from Beethoven added to her repertoire.  Stickers replaced by pats on her shoulder and soft y whispered, “Beautiful” close to her ear.  She stopped practicing, not wanting pats and whispers and touches.  And the piano was no longer a friend.

Until one day, she silently left her lesson.  Tears unshed.  And she never played another note.

(32. Write a STORY about rape that never actually mentions rape)  pushing it, I know.

My favorite sonata bit.  pathetique movement 3 (which again, i can’t play anywhere near that fast)

55. Write a POEM as a love letter you could never give to someone

What would you see looking in my eyes?

The shine of oil paints

The sparkle of laughter

The shimmer of unshed tears

What would you hear in my words?

The longing

Do you know how far I would go?

To know every one of your stories

To hear your voice

To feel you in the same space

Would you want me there?

Don’t worry.  There is none of that here.

One of the things I like to do (especially when I need some calm) is play the piano.  It quiets my head usually.  Gets my brain and fingers aligned with each other.  Just generally soothes.  I need some soothing this morning.  Feel free to send chocolate, hugs, and minis.

This morning, I was playing a song I’ve been working on for a long time.  It’s a tough one, boys and girls.  I know that I will never play it perfectly.  I can’t play even easy songs perfectly.  Which is what I’m writing about here.  I started playing this song and it was “perfect”.  Until it wasn’t.  That one measure that always gets me got me this time too.  And I stopped.  Because I wanted to know how far I’d gone on perfection.  13 measures for the record.  So I started over again and played terribly- kept making mistakes.  My head was focused on perfection instead of music. 

Then I let go the need for perfection.  And the music did its job.  What I can see is that those parts that are difficult are getting better and easier.  I see that what was once measures and notes and fingerings is more lyrical.  I feel the song curl its way around.  I look at the words on page 2, “con anima.”  I know enough about music to know this means with animation or with spirit. 

What else does it mean, though?  Jung, an important part of the message this year- as he is every freaking where in my world-, explains the anima as the the male’s feminine side present in dreams and also calls the anima the source of creativity.  Or possibly the true self.  From the Latin, anima means essentially soul.  My sad little memory was convinced it was mind.  Mentis.  Mens sana in corpore sano.  Not so much.  Anyhow, what high school Latin teacher is going to talk about souls?  Certainly not the plum and blue bewigged Mrs. (shoot, I had her name a second ago and it fell out of my head.)

Creativity is as necessary as air. 

My brain and I are not real connected this morning.

What a lovely video.  Music notes.  It doesn’t look that hard does it?  Sigh.

 

I want to wear jammies all day long. Which I get to do on Monday ’cause it’s pajama day at school.

I’m tired of brushing my hair.  I want to leave it the way it comes out of the shower.  Very attractive.

I’m tired of being too wiped out to stay up past 11.  I used to be a night owl.  I like the night life, I wanna boogie.  Ha, just kidding.

I want to read a book.  Preferably get to the end when I remember what the beginning was about.  Or where I put it last.

I want to get bored writing bad poetry.

I want to suck up dust bunnies.  Let me rephrase, I want dust bunnies to be sucked up.  By somebody.

I want to go somewhere fun.

I want someone to reach in my head and do the thing I most need them to do without me saying a word.  On the other hand, I’ve gotten pretty good this week asking people to do things for me.  Amazing. I’ve discovered that “yes” happens more often than “no”.

Positive, not whiny things:

High school choir concert last night- a little taste of all the high school choirs.  It was amazing.  From 9th grade mixed all the way up to the cream of the crop auditioned Master Singers.  Sophomores sang this song. (not them, i didn’t record anything)  In any case, the music program here is phenomenal.  I love that my kids like most of that. (They both like choir- it’s band that causes the drama.)

Presentation tomorrow night in class.  It’s no biggie.  I keep telling myself that.  In any case, it will be long done by this time tomorrow.

Anyhow.  That’s that.

 

The universe has been speaking to me lately.  For a while, I wasn’t getting the message.  Friday, I went into one of my favorite places to do one of my favorite things.  I’ve been working at this great art studio place doing summer camps and in-service days for several years.  Art. Kids. Completely coincidentally I make a lot more money doing that than for my real job.  Go figure.  Anyhow.  I knew I only had 3 little girls, all of whom I knew, and Spawn was coming along for volunteer time and I had lots of painting planned.  I love paint. Don’t you know.  Anyhow.  So I was kinda excited.  Until I walked in and immediately saw what this usurper woman had done to my studio. 

Anal Ana the queen of organization and cleanliness.  She’s going down.  Not that I’m opposed to organization and cleanliness.  Well, yea, I am.  It’s an art studio.  You make it clean and neat and I can’t find anything and I have to worry about making a mess.

Anyhow, Anal Ana annoys me.  Mostly because she painted over my freaking window.  A couple summers ago, I started doodle painting on a window frame and had kids help me.  It’s fun, for one thing, and just imagine coming back to a place summer after summer to see something permanent that you helped paint.  I mean the kids now.  I think it was valuable for them.  In any case, this summer Anal Ana painted over it.  Without permission from the bosses.  With permission from the bosses, my crazy friend and I started repainting it the week we did camp together.  And one of the kids from Friday helped.  Imagine my surprise when I walked in on Friday and the first thing I noticed was that the window was now teal and yellow (except for the places that someone didn’t paint. ha ha. so it looks sorta crappy). 

I went ballistic.  I must say.  For about 10 minutes before the kids arrived.  Because how could she do that TO ME! And she has filled the studio with the most obnoxious stuff.  Prefab cutesy colorful painted shelves and boxes.  And these disconcerting enormous paper doll things with stick legs and black circle eyes that stare like zombies.  And colorful mini plastic chairs.  I just wanted to barf.  I didn’t understand who died and made her queen.  I seriously thought that maybe this was a sign from the universe that I was done working there.  Vomitous saccharin cute is not my thing.

Then I had a fun day and I realized that once again, I had misinterpreted the message.  Because Anal Ana, first of all, didn’t do that to me.  She did it because vomitous sacharrin is her thing.  And we should pity her.  Anyone who thinks round-headed paper children with skinny black stick figure legs and big black eyeballs are anything but creepy should be pitied.  What’s more, I realized that the Overgrown Barbie is equally to be pitied.  The women’s club that she thinks is so important and all the other cookie cutter clubs that she belongs to where the most important thing they do is lunch gives her purpose.  So, when I remember that this stuff isn’t serious, it actually becomes funny.  Besides, I’m nearly done with her. 

In other news…

My funny cat.  The late night walk attendant.  The one who sometimes goes to school with me.  The one who who avoided us for months (because we are goddawful loud people).  The one who looks at me like I’m goddess.  Anyhow.  This afternoon I got in the car and started driving down the street.  I look over to the right and about wrecked the car, because there is Princess Buttercup with a “holy crap” look on her face.  As I turned the car around (since I wasn’t really looking for company where I was going), she took a stroll along the dashboard.  Put her paws on the steering wheel.  I don’t think she was trying to help me steer.  I think she maybe was worried that I hadn’t noticed her.  Ha. By this time I was pretty close to the driveway and she ended up all over me.  Of course I’m laughing.  Poor terrified kitty.  This is what happens when people (not me) leave the car doors open.

In other other news…

LLO played the cowbell in church choir today and I grinned through the whole thing thinking “needs more cowbell”.

Any day that includes one of these has gotta be pretty all right.

It’s a double, even.

I am a doormat.  At this moment I am a colossally pissed off doormat.  And this current issue, in the scheme of all potential, existing and imaginary issues in my life, shouldn’t matter.  I’m ticking down the minutes where I have to give a crap about that freaking women’s club. 

This overgrown cheerleader is going to be president next year and truly I feel sorry for the Board because… well, because I do.  A few weeks ago, she offered to help me by proofreading the directory that is my big (pita) job for the club (aside from screwing up nametags for the big fall soiree).  It is her duty as pres-elect to make the cover.  I reminded her several times and did everything but hold her hand to get her to do this cover.  I did my part, sent to printer and waited for the proof to be ready.  Finally called them last Saturday and they were waiting on the cover.  Which was annoying.  I emailed her again to remind her about the cover and to make the glorious suggestion that I just do the damn thing for her and to see when she could proofread for me.  Well, she doesn’t answer email on weekends.  So I get a message Sunday night to phone her Monday morning.  Why do I need to phone you?  Just answer my dang questions.  I emailed back repeating my questions and reminding her that I work for a living and that I was very busy on Monday.  She sent me another email informing me when I could phone her at her convenience.  Thank you so much.  Well, the phone call at her convenience, was essentially you can make the cover for me and you can drop the proof off at my house.  Gosh, thanks.  She had the proof for 2 days.  2 days!!!  I called her last night and she said I could pick it up this morning.  Gosh, thanks.  I picked it up and her note says “without the originals with corrections, I couldn’t proof.”  I’m sorry.  Did you actually want me to hang my computer on your door?  What originals?  There are no originals.   Two days.  To tell me she couldn’t do it.  And she OFFERED to do it.  I could have had someone with a brain do this 4 days ago and this job could be off my plate.  My very full plate.  Also, she didn’t say a word about the cover.  No thank you, no good job, no nothing.  What a freaking prima dona.

I hope nobody else offers to “help” me.

Also, this morning my father informed me that he wants to have a conversation with me today.  Oh goodie.  I can’t wait.  Spouse tells me to “have a positive attitude”.  I’m not going to say anything to that.  Is it ever something you want to hear when someone asks for a conversation?  I don’t think so.  I’d like to have a conversation with spouse about that piece of paper he didn’t think I noticed (which he apparently took to work with him.)  I’d like to have a lot of conversations today.  Instead I think I should probably take deep, cleansing breaths and have another cup of coffee. (and maybe a tylenol for this whopper of a headache)

What the heck, gratitude list:

1. I’m not parenting doormats.

2. I can survive the next two months and if I can survive the next two months, I can freaking do anything.

3. I live in a beautiful place with amazing blue skies most days and mountains and trees and interesting weather.

4. I have a great job that I love that almost pays enough to buy gas.

5. I have a lot of wonderful people all over the place who care about me.

6. My parents are living and mostly healthy.

7. I can decide for myself who and what I am.

 

Oh, hey. The other kid just reappeared.  Cool, I know where everyone else now. 

#whimsh Create a piece of WEARABLE art/craft that means something significant to you.

I took on a challenge yesterday that I didn’t even realize would get me credit on this scavenger hunt thing that I’ve been ignoring for days.  Ha.  The challenge: embrace my masculine side with painted man shoes.  A Good Will voyage later, I had man shoes which Spawn claims were ugly and were always going to be ugly.  Here they are my manly clown shoes.

Even though my shoes make me happy, I think I will rant.  I’ve been nursing this one all day.  The odds are good that I have unreasonable expectations of people.  Just in case it seems that way, then I can say “yea, I know.” 

We’ve been friends with a family since Spawn was in 1st grade.  Spawn and Emily were good friends.  LLO and Tori were good friends.  Same ages.  Live in our neighborhood.  The mom and I were kinda friends, but not close.  Emily has Asberger’s Syndrome which I think we ignored more than anything.  I think we’re tolerant people.  For a while Tori had Anger issues and we were accepting of that too.  We had the same church activities and it was convenient for me to drive all the kids at various times because I was going and their mom was not.  Tori came to our house after school often.  A summer ago, Tori seemed to be at my house every darn day exactly at lunch time. (which annoyed the crap out of me, because you know I don’t like to feed people.)  We watched their pets when they went on vacation.  Because we are nice.

One day this summer, all hell broke loose when my girls and Tori were at the pool.  It was ugly with a capital U.  And the next day when LLO called Tori to play her dad pretty much said no freaking way.  And they haven’t played since.  And Tori ignores LLO at school and on the bus and at church.  And today, I was 4 feet away from Tori’s parents and they wouldn’t even look at me.  And I’m hurt.  But more than that, I’m pissed.  Because I think loyalty should count for something.  And I have been more than loyal to that family.  When Tori was having bad days at elementary school, I hugged that girl.  When the mom had breast cancer, I did whatever they needed me to do.  All of the girls’ playdates and sleepovers were at my house.  So.  Those people suck.  And that’s that.

I hate to be used and discarded.

This is what I spied upon my bed this morning!

Yup. I screamed.  Like a girl. 

One of the kids at school (and adorable little child who has discovered that I blush when I laugh, so he tries to make me laugh all the time) found a spider picture in a book he was reading and wanted to know what kind it was.  I actually was successful discovering its identity on the computer.  Wolf spider, for the record. So now I’m the expert on finding species names of random animals.  The boys are constantly showing me pictures. 

I guess I’ll be looking up this menacing sucker when my heart rate gets back to normal.

 

Obnoxious day of good fortune.  So if you can’t stand to listen to a long list of itty bitty things that made yesterday pretty freaking amazing, just cut to the end.

1) Played hookie, went to doctor, got drugs for my sinus infection.  So I may actually feel like a human being for longer than an hour per day.

2) After napping all morning, I tried to rescue my wheelbarrow plants in containers that were ridiculously small (because that’s what I had) and this made me laugh.  A lot.  I know my kitty cats will be the next beings laughing about my indoor plants.  Maybe something will break and I can de-stuffify. It’s all good. 

3) I talked to my prof before class about the fact that I hadn’t turned in last week’s paper and he said not to worry about it being late because he hadn’t read them all yet anyhow.    It’s still crap. A more alert classmate discovered the hidden final due date on the syllabus, which is not soon.  yay.

4) I was moaning about the big honking paper I have to finish a draft for this month and a classmate asked if my advisor was helping me with that.  To which I responded that I hadn’t asked for help because I don’t like him anymore.  (He hurted my feelings.)  And she said she’d send me the guidelines they’ve all gotten from another class they are taking.  HUGE.  I nearly kissed her feet.  Seriously, flying blind was not working so great.

5) We had that comet sighting which was proved to be false.   

6) Got an email from LLO’s teacher.  It was a really, really good email.  She has a good attitude and enthusiasm.  She’s getting her work done.  And she’s been polite.  (She being my kid and not the teacher, who is also doing those things, but not my concern) This may seem like small potatoes to you, but this is huge for my little (felon) angel.

7) I got to talk to a lot of my favorite people too.  Not all of them, mind you.  There are only 24 hours in the day. 

LLO is going away for most of the weekend.  We haven’t had all of our people home for a night all week.  Maybe we’ll watch R movies all evening. ha.

HAVE A SONG