A picture is worth a thousand Words…
Three thousand Words that All Mean Love…
It’s been 65 years since the world was gifted this most honorable Guy…
Happy Birthday, Love-of-My-Life!
May you live a Long Life Full of gladness and health,
with a pocket full of gold as the least of your wealth.
May the dreams you hold dearest, Be those which come true,
The kindness you spread, Keep returning to you.
I’m having a weepy-kinda-miss-my-Mom Mother’s Day. I don’t always feel so sad on this happy day…wait, yes…yes, I do.
Mother’s Day kinda sucks without a Mom, even when your adoring children are fawning over you. It’s okay, even fine, to stop a moment and let a few tears flow as you remember her….
Mother’s Day Memo
by Anita Pulier
Breathe in her scent,
thumb through food stained pages,
touch her buttery finger prints.
Remove her little notes
on more garlic or less wine,
place them in your jewelry box
in case they contain
secrets, it’s time
to find Mom’s clues.
Bow your head to
this unique holiday offer
of sensory overload.
Recall family dinners crowded
around an orange banquette
curving around a Formica table,
strewn with flowered wallpaper
insisting on cheer.
Allow a moment to grieve
the loss of unconditional love.
Pour a nice cup of tea,
open the Times online,
place the cursor
on the world you live in now.
“Mother’s Day Memo” by Anita S. Pulier from The Butcher’s Diamond. © Finishing Line Press, 2018. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)
Hug your Mother, if you can. I’m going to pour a nice cup of tea…
The unthinkable happened, the thing that I even stopped fearing could happen — the draft of my Grandmother book is gone… I know, you think because nothing dies in the internet that it is out there somewhere, but it never left this computer, and in particular WordPress, and it is not in either of those places. I Know that I saved the draft… I KNOW that I did…but I guess I didn’t. That was about 3200 + words—three thousand two hundred plus — it made me kinda sick when I made the discovery. I guess I have to start over, but I really liked what I wrote. New Beginnings…
While I’m complaining, I must say that last week was very disorienting…with New Years Eve on a Monday, holiday on Tuesday, it felt to me like Wednesday was really Monday and if it hadn’t been for Olivia’s piano lesson on the usual Saturday, I’d still be thinking it’s Friday… And the weather didn’t help — we didn’t see the sun for a couple of those days, whichever they were. I never thought I would look forward to a Real Monday so I can pass the dementia quiz.
Today definitely feels like Sunday, though, and the sunshine is beckoning me to bundle up and go outside. I will get to the words later…
I love to take my morning coffee out on the front porch swing to Just Be in the present moment. I brewed some french vanilla the other morning, settled into my attitude of gratitude, but had a song stuck in my head.
90% of people experience such earworms, also know as Involuntary Musical Imagery. It bothers some people, but I usually just go with it…listening to my memory play like a stereo.
The song in question that day was Eli’s Comin’ by 3 Dog Night…girl, Eli’s comin’ you better hide, girl, Eli’s comin’ you better hide…hide your heart now… As the jukebox in my head played, I thought…that Laura Nyro was such a great songwriter… what all did she write? …
the music switched to “and when I die…and when I’m dead, dead and gone” …what was the name of that group? oh, yeah, Blood, Sweat, and Tears. While the tinny piano and cowbell from that version played in the background, I began to sort through Nyro’s discography…soon the music became a medley of Fifth Dimension songs…come on down to the stone soul picnic… i got the wedding bell blues..ain’t that sweet-eyed blindness good to me…
I stayed there for a while, letting those songs play in the background while I looked around at the patch of blue sky I could see through the trees, noticed the birds and squirrels were going about their morning rituals.
Suddenly, the songs were back with a nagging question…what’s that one that goes come on people… I brought full focus back to Laura Nyro’s discography… didn’t Barbra Streisand do one of her songs? Yes..going down to stoney end, I never wanted to go…cradle me, mama, cradle me again.. not the song I was looking for, but still worth remembering… I expanded to come on people, come on children, let’s go down to the ?jordan? river… I could hear the piano…but could get no farther..The not-remembering finally got to me and I came in to the computer and looked it up.
It was covered by the Fifth Dimension and that youtube video is a wonder of 60’s bright bell-bottoms, platform shoes, and awkward dance moves. But it was the artist herself, Laura Nyro, sitting at the piano and exuding the feeling of this powerful song that most moved me.
Step into the Wayback machine of black-and-white TV, watch this Vietnam war protest song that offers great wisdom…maybe get it stuck in your head.
It’s called Save the Country…
Laura Nyro was 49 when she died in 1997. She was so brilliant and if you don’t know her work, you’ll do yourself some good to listen to her albums.
May all of your earworms be inspiring…
We celebrated our 38th wedding anniversary on Wednesday with a stroll down Memory Lane. It seems like a lifetime ago that I walked down the aisle of Old North with 5-year-old Melissa as my maid-of-honor to join our lives with Casey. I wrote in 2011…
….”still married after all these years…through the happy and the sad, the exciting and the boring, the easy days and the difficult nights, we’ve melded our minds into a working partnership of supportive independence. “
In 2010 we celebrated our 30th at a Garrison Keillor “Summer of Love” Show up at Connor Prairie. I wrote about it Here…
Probably my best effort was the post of 2014… Wedding Anniversary Edition…
We were at Disney for our 35th celebration…
I’ve been having internet connection problems all week… We were having problems before we changed cable companies and since I was using the old company’s modem/router, I thought I’d be smart and buy a new modem and hook it to my old router. I am smart, but I’m still having the problem with the signal randomly going out and coming back on. It is aggravating. We are honing in on the problem, but I’m trying to do it without a visit from my son, just to show we can. He only has to answer the phone 5-6 times daily…hmm…he might want to make a service call and get me to stop bugging him. He doesn’t read this blog, though, so this is just between me and you…
Who does read this blog? I’ll take this opportunity to thank you all for showing up for today’s news… There’s not much to report…
The porch was newly-completed just in time for rain, but we hadn’t yet caulked the seams on the roof. As we watched the rain, we realized that the flat section was too flat and water was pooling in several areas. Damn. While we spent the next 2 rainy days observing, Casey developed a plan. He had to take that side back off and do a little engineering to give it some slant, pitch, grade–whatever–and then put it back on and caulk it. After another trip to Menard’s, he used the rainy days to paint and engineer, timing it perfectly to remove and replace when the rain stopped. It’s done… It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, so we’ll see, but it Looks like it will work much better…
The internet signal has been lost and found 3 (now 4)(now 5)(now 6) times since I started writing this post. I’m gonna go work with the modem…
I’ve been trying to write something all morning. Well, I have actually written a lot of words that didn’t go together and so I threw them away. I simply have nothing to say…
well, except for this…
I was going to post this on Thursday, but the tragic murders of students and teachers in Broward County, Florida left me speechless and grieving. Oh, yeah, I joined in a few “debates” about what we should do about these recurring murders, but the grief I feel for these families who have lost their loved ones so senselessly is beyond words. Hearing so many of the adults in the room defend the gun is mind-boggling, but the voices of the kids who are crying out for us to do something is clear. We need to do something to keep our schools safe. I just don’t know what, though.
When I was working as a school nurse, I came across some pretty fucked-up kids. Sometimes I got a little scared that we were going to end up in a shooting situation. Would I have been a hero? I have no idea. I’m thankful that it was not required of me, but I had a spot picked out where I would hide, and would have been safer than the kids in their classrooms. We need to Do Something. Listen to the children, hear them. What can we do to help? Let’s do it.
So, it seems a little trite, but this is what we did last week…
We finished up the Stairway Remodel…
Pretty neat, huh? I’m off to Amazonia this morning to enjoy the warmth and the Orchids. I’d love to see some of you there!! Even if I’m not present during your visit, I know the monkeys would be happy to see you!
I still don’t understand why, but “suspicious activity” had been detected, so they said. Okay. They wanted me to send them a picture of myself, so they could determine if, indeed, the me that was sending them the picture was the Real me. The Actual Person me was immediately offended, then concerned, so I took the problem to google and discovered that this is not an uncommon situation and it was safe to send them the picture. But what’s up with sending them a picture? Don’t they already have all my pictures? Couldn’t I just pick one of me even if I weren’t me? How does that verify that I’m really me? I look at recent pictures and hardly recognize myself, so where does Mr. Bigshot Facebook get off thinking he knows me so well. Shouldn’t they ask me piercing questions: What is the name of your first elementary school? What was your grandmother’s maiden name? What is the most surprising thing you can tell us about yourself? How could I surprise them? They — who the hell is They? — track everything I do on the internet. How, or why, would they suspect that I am not me? Who else could I be? I am decidedly me. And that old woman in the picture is not the proof you are looking for.
I checked my driver’s license. There is a picture of me, taken 12 years ago, wearing my nurse scrubs and dark red lipstick, long hair, few wrinkles. That’s not me, though it was me. I turned to my brand-spankin-new Medicare card. No picture, but the name: Christina J Casey. I was so bummed when I got my card and saw that I was now going to be, until I fly away from this terrestrial globe, Christina J. (I was named after my mother (Ruby Christina), a default measure after Dad wanted to name me Ruby. I don’t know why they never called me Christy, or Tina, or just Christina, but they didn’t. I was The Bug to my Dad and Jo to everyone else.) Perhaps that’s suspicious?
This all happened 4 days after I had started my hiatus from blogging, determined to retreat and reset. I got to thinking it must be a sign that I needed to verify for myself that I am still me.
I began a a spell of study with teachers from the Sounds True Meditation and Mindfulness Reatreat: Alice Walker, Eckhart Tolle, Pema Chodron, and Thich Nhat Hanh. I listened to some of Oprah’s Sunday interviews with Maya Angelou. I reviewed my Ayurveda lessons and did some Dosha and Chakra Work. When the snow and ice came, I watched the birds at the feeders and soaked up the warm cozy. I started 2 book challenges, one fiction, the other non and read 2 from each list so far. I dragged out my book of 40’s standards and played Misty and Cry Me a River.
I got back on the treadmill–but only once!!! Now That proves that I’m really me.
I did eventually send the folks at fb a picture of me, and a week after that, I was bombarded with a barrage of “come back and see what you’ve missed” emails and notifications. I really hadn’t missed a thing.
I am returning to blogging, though, refreshed! ready! But I still wonder who I am…
The aroma of hoppin’ john — my stock new-year-day lucky food–is filling the air, warming us on this frigid (10degrees), but sunshiny First Day of 2018.
I’m a little skittish about making Resolutions… I’ve done it before, but I’m just not a Resolute person. I have only a passing understanding of Determination or what on earth a Firm Decision would be. Same way with Goals… The very word implies Effort and there is a whiff of competition that has never appealed to me.
I reject Bucket List, because I do not have a terminal diagnosis, and I sincerely hope to have done Everything before I get the diagnosis…
But just like the traditional lucky food, and kissing at midnight, I usually make a list on New Year Day. The List was aimed at Self-Improvement, being healthy, changing my habits… The usual stop smoking, stop drinking, lose weight, join a group, take a class…I Would Become a Better Person!!! January was always full of hope… By February, I would be making excuses, and March always saw me in the line of shame to d/c my gym membership.
Why did I spend so much time criticizing myself, always falling short of my expectations. I set myself up to fail, then beat myself up, feeling undisciplined, even lazy!? Some of those habits changed, but never because I wrote it down on New Year Day. Time flew in and changed me. It works much better that way.
At the ripe old age of 64, I see the Year Ahead much differently. I look at the Year as an Adventure, Each Day as a New Experience, Every moment present and aware. So I’ll call it my Adventure List? My Experience List? My Learning List? My Here’s What I Want to Do in 2018 List?
1. Enjoy Each Moment, no judging
4. Spend Time with Family
5. Learn New Music
9. Spruce up the House