Good thing I mowed last night after work, not that much of the grass was mowing length, but it's rainy today and that'll make it all grow. At least by mowing I'll keep us from looking like bums. We're both looking forward to spending a little time with the girls. We don't get to stay long, only a couple days, but we'll cram in lots of visiting. Friday we get to see a run-though of Goodnight Moon at the Lexington Children's Theater where DIL2's the tech director/manager, then go to Keeneland to the races. We don't know what we'll do on Saturday, probably sightsee, and then find that ramshackle barbecue joint I saw last spring and eat there. (Oh, I have to remember to put fresh water in Dragon's bowl so I can take him to work. I figured Mrs. Boss won't mind feeding him while we're gone. Don't want to come home to a dead fish now, do I?) I finished up the laundry last night, Durwood had done about 5 loads through the day, and packed. All that's left is to put my laptop in its bag with the power strip of chargers (I have 4!) and then I'm set. I think. It's not as if we'll be gone forever, only 3 nights, so forgotten things aren't the end of the world. (You can't even see it from here.) When I get home from work all I'll have to do is throw Durwood's O2 tanks, oxygen accumulator, and the bags into the van and off we go. Slick as cat sh*t on a linoleum floor. (You and I both know things won't go that smoothly but let's pretend, okay?) Huh, I ran out of blabber early. On to the poem...
April 17--Greek Armband with Heracles Knot.
Loop of gold
'twined through another
locked for millennia
like you and me.
Garnets for blood,
emerald's earth,
gold means purity.
Truth of our union
sealed for all time
with red stone,
green stone, and
gold.
--bam
~~~~~
Sappy, I know, but I gotta tell you I'm stuck on Durwood. Stuck with and on. He's my rock. He makes me feel safe and calm and whole. What's not to love? Plus he tolerates and even encourages whatever mania I happen to light on. This one's for you, Dear.
--Barbara
And I'm so glad. It's good to leave and good to come home. I know I'll feel the same when/if there's ever a grandbaby to stay with and care for. Dorothy was right, "there's no place like home." *click, click* (no ruby slippers, just red fleece clogs with holey toes) And I don't have to share my banana either. Porter expects a share, and if one's good, more would certainly be better, all would be great, and MORE even better. Lots of signs of Spring in the yard this morning: lilacs blooming, primroses too, blueberry flowers, and asparagus for supper. Yum. Tonight after work I need to mow de lawn so that it doesn't get too long while we're gone this weekend. We'll be in Lexington visiting DD & DIL2, you know, and we're going to Keeneland to bet on the ponies and we'll eat some barbecue and maybe do something else. We'll definitely drive by Big Ass Fans and the JIF factory (choosy mothers choose JIF, I did and do). Mmm, that neighborhood sure smells good with the smell of roasting peanuts wafting around. I don't know what was up with the weather yesterday. It was warmish in the morning and then the wind picked up, really picked up, and blew in cold, winter coat cold, and they were talking about snow showers overnight. Snow showers. That didn't happen, but still, it's past snow time, people. And I heard from the AM talking heads that it was uber-hot in the northeast, like in the 90s. What is going on? All you people with lava rocks from Hawaii, put them back, send them back if you have to. Everyone get your houses in order, I fear that this might be the lead-up to Armageddon. Either that or I'm blaming sunspots. Yeah, that's it, sunspots, solar wind, La Nina... I've got a million of them. Oh, can't forget global climate change (global warming's out as a rallying cry--out). Pay no attention to the woman behind the screen today, she's not herself (if she ever is or was or will be). By the way, the alarm woke me at 6:30 today. I did not vault out of bed at 6:00. That's a good thing.
April 16--Diego Rodriguez de Silva Y Velazquez, Portrait of a Man. I went with the NaPoWriMo prompt which was to write about the ocean, one of my favorite places on earth.
Heart beat of the ocean
just beyond hearing
surge of water
regular as pulse
blood-warm silk
salty as tears
cocoon me in your care
--bam
~~~~~
The funny thing about the NaPoWriMo prompt of the 16th was that it was the first one where she used a picture as a prompt. I do that most of the time, have for years. I'm hanging onto daily prompt writing by a thread and I think that without a picture I'd fall into the abyss. Could be true, could be drama, but that's where I'm standing right now. Off to dress for work so we can run away tomorrow night to see our girls. See ya! (d'you see me waving?)
--Barbara
Finallyfinallyfinally the tiny buds on the maple tree are big enough to warrant being put in the scarf. Green! In the Maple Tree Scarf! I bought up a plethora of spring-ish greens and Durwood and I agreed that this pear color was the best representative of the delicate green of the nearly invisible buds on my tree. I thought of only putting in a few random stitches of the green (green!) because they're only visible if you really look for them but then I thew caution to the winds and just plunged in wholeheartedly. Ahh, green.
I finished up the Color Stripe Vessel #4 at work the other day. (you see, it's green too, at least partly) I'm anxious to see how it turns out when it's felted since I made the sides shallow. Maybe it'll be wide and flat like I wanted.This is my last dog-sitting day and I'm relieved. I'm not cut out to be a pet-parent. I'm just not. I'm more of a pet-tolerater or a pet-borrower. When it comes right down to it, I'm not soothed by her presence but too aware of her and annoyed. See? Not the right attitude at all. Not that I'm mean to her, no, I'd never do that, I'm just perfunctory. I'd really rather be left alone.
This is getting old and has to stop. Porter was lying quietly in her bed and I woke up. She wasn't pacing by the bed, whining. Nope, just lying there. Does this mean I'll be waking up at 6 o'clock for no apparent reason now? Is this the stage I'm at? Gah! I don't understand dogs. The other night when I was downstairs she was upstairs munching on a sliver of soap that someone (not me) had left on the edge of the tub. Then in the morning while I was upstairs getting ready for work she was downstairs eating, or rather shredding a napkin. I. Don't. Understand. And it's chicken feeding and watering day. This is my 6th morning here and I've collected all of 1 egg. One. Is she depressed? On strike? I suspect that she laid one Wednesday and Thursday mornings and disposed of them herself but since then only one has appeared. Unless she's hoarding them and there isn't anyplace in there where she could hide them. This is why I don't have pets. I don't get them. People are bad enough and you can ask them questions, animals are just, well, animals. Dumb animals. Dumb as in mute, not dumb as in stupid. Well, not all of them anyway. (Penny doesn't seem very bright.) We're off to see DD & DIL2 later this week and I can not wait to see them and spend time with them, then once we're home maybe my life will settle back down into its comfy rut and I can gather the scattered tatters of my wits and see if I can't knit or sew them back together. Except of course that there's a beer & food pairing dinner on the 25th and on the 28th the Tae Kwon Do women are reuning (what? it was in a Mensa crossword puzzle last week.) and there's the Barbershoppers concert that night. Okay, after that. I'm looking forward to the long drive to Lexington. Time in the car with Durwood's always good. We talk or not, point out random things along the way, talk. Like that. He loves to drive and I'm restricted to only a couple things to do, like knit (mindless stuff, nothing complex) or listen to an audiobook but that seems rude to Durwood. And Porter's eating a stick again. Why do dogs do that? She has plenty of food but she has a mania for tearing things up, landscape fabric is high on her list, my plastic shoes are good too, but the sticks that fall off the backyard trees are her faves. She also likes to "trim" the hedges along the fence. She gets under them and chomps off the low branches. ???? Nuts. No egg again today. *shrug* Haven't got a clue about that. Looks like it's about to pucker up and rain again. S'okay by me.
April 15--Girolamo Zenti, Harpsichord.
Touch a key
Note quivers in air
Hammer a taut wire
Percussion of sound
wave on eardrum
Cause Effect
Sound of music
--bam
~~~~~~
When I was writing last night (or trying to) the wind was blowing like crazy, this next one came from that.
~~~~~~
Roaring wind
sliced by trees
flings itself
through the neighborhood
stirring the darkness
--bam
~~~~~~
And that's that. It's time to munch on Cheerios, take a shower, dress, pack, and think about going to work. Ooh, it's payday. That's a good thing. Sayonara.
--Barbara
...and it's raining. (Oh, glasses make it better.) Porter does not want to go out if it's raining. Does that mean she's going to spend the the morning whining about it? Probably. I'm determined not to spend the day here with her. I'm going to go home and spend the day with Durwood. I miss him. He misses me too, I'm sure of it, he said he does. I'll take my newly potted shoes home to show him and I'll spend part of the day sans dog. I don't think I understand what you DO with a dog when you're not walking it. This one isn't content to just lie by your side like a faithful rug, she wants to have a conversation and have you doing something to her or with her or something just do something here let me lick you and nudge your hand with my snout and worm my way between you and whatever you're doing so it'll be easier for you to pet me or step on me. Yeah, like that. Right now she's standing looking out the back door like the world's turned against her. She's already gobbled up her food like it's the last she'll ever get, had a few laps of water, and now she's lying behind my chair sighing and harrumphing at the general cruelty of the world (I guess). Looks like Penny doesn't like rain either, she's huddled in her little house. (Will I have to wrestle her for the egg? Better get my umbrella. Wonder if there's one around here somewhere.) We need the rain so they'll just have to get over it. I'm kind of glad it's raining. Rain absolves me from feeling like I need to be doing something on the nice day, mowing or laundry or something productive. Damned work ethic. I'm not even Protestant. I'm glad we're running away after I get off work next Wednesday. We're shucking our responsibilities and hitting the open road, footloose and fancy free. I need to check what the weather guessers have to say about Lexington, KY next weekend so I can plan what to pack. Oh, and remind Durwood to go see about getting a new gas cap that doesn't wreak havoc with his sensor doodads. If you don't get the one he has now cranked down just exactly right, it says you don't have any gas. You know you do, but you glance down and the light's on and the "check engine" light's blazing away and just for an instant you panic. In town it's not so much but on the road it's a pain. With the sensor component I'm guessing a new gas cap isn't cheap, but he can check it out, right? Never hurts to ask, the worst they can say is "no." I think I had all of one paying customer at work yesterday plus one Instructor + kids dropping off gear from teaching a family pool skills, one visitor who hung out for 45 minutes or so (always nice to have someone to talk to), one son & mom looking at masks but buying nothing, and that was it. In 6 hours. It makes for a long day. I websurfed (too much, I need to scale that back, it isn't good for my wrist), emailed Skully some blog construction tips and encouragement, talked to Cookie on the phone, cranked up tunes (okay, it was classical music, free samplers, FREE! I got some jazz ones too) on the Kindle and knitted. I live on the edge. Not. It just feels like it sometimes.
April 14--Girolamo Zenti, Harpsichord.
Like silver pins
notes hold me
in place
while the music
dances from
his fingertips
Raw materials
join as the
musician/alchemist
turns
fruitwood, gilt, and ivory
into magic
--bam
~~~~~
Hey, housekeeping note, my "itol" email address is no longer good but I can't get Google to replace it with another or do it on my own. I've tried, believe me, I've tried. "Itol" is the address of record for this blog so if this comes to your email address you can't just hit Reply and have it come back to me, you need to reply to bookie1510(at)hotmail(dot)com (replace the parentheticals with the proper symbols) or you can come onto the blog and comment here. Ain't technology grand? Happy Sunday!
--Barbara
 |
| Victory! |
It wasn't even 6 o'clock when she woke me up to let her out. Six o'clock. On Saturday. Yes, I have to work today, but seriously, a person could sleep in. A person could be more awake when she posts. This person, I mean, not any random person cruising by. Me. Not-awake me, who has let the dog out, taken my vitamins, gone potty and dressed myself--in the correct order, I might add--even though it's not fully light yet. I DO NOT get up when it's dark outside, at least not willingly much less cheerfully. Ask Durwood. Yet here I sit in the "sun" room with a whining dog at my feet (no, I'm not going for a walk yet, maybe not ever today, I think I'm getting a shin splint) clicking away on the keys talking to you. I know there's a "you" out there, I feel you out there, I hear your breathing. Can you hear me? (creepy, eh?) Oh, air quotes! Two university students came into the dive shop yesterday and I stood up asking, "can I help you?" and she said, "we're here to sign up..." and he finished, "for our (air quote) certification dives (air quote)." I immediately said, "don't air quotes that, it's a real thing, not some joke you can just pass off with air quotes." I was smiling at the time and I "air quoted" a bunch of random things at him to show him how stupid and demeaning air quotes can be--in a friendly, joking manner, of course. And when I was fitting him in his wetsuit, I let him know that he could buy jeans that actually covered his underpants and rode on his hips instead of his ass and half-hard on. In a nice way, of course. (and I didn't say hard-on out loud, I used my inside voice [oop, I almost air quoted]) I swear that's how they keep their pants up; that's why they've got their hands in their pockets, you know, to keep things at parade-rest (so to speak) so their pants stay up. I'm sure of it. I've fed Penny too. I gave her a handful of wilted lettuce from the fridge, sliced up an overripe banana, and a few grapes which seems excessive, I agree, but there's a payoff. Look! I won! Victory is mine! *hops in a circle, fists on high* I put bedding and an old golf ball in her nest box and, voila!, I got an egg. A real, unpecked, freckledy egg. The first one since I moved in on Tuesday. Guess things hadn't gotten too far out of hand but I'm going to leave that golf ball in there and put another Slogger of bedding in before I leave for work. It's cheap insurance. What's a Slogger? It's a plastic, Croc-like garden clog that DIL1 and I each have a pair of that lives on their back step. We use them as yard shoes. I used them yesterday to carry nest-bedding out to the coop since there isn't a scoop or bucket in the bedding can. (What? It worked. It is now an official Unit of Measure.) I can't believe how crafty I am; Porter has been whining to go walking, I don't want to so my shin splint gets a day off, so I spread peanut butter in one of her bones and brought it outside so she can work on it. Did I mention that I moved the writing out to the patio so she'll be outside and not eat DIL1's Slogger? Or mine? I did. I am a genius. Certifiable. In the category "People are Odd," a guy called yesterday asking about getting certified and also about a wetsuit he can use for diving and windsurfing. We talked about dive class (I think he'll sign up online.) and that there really isn't a wetsuit combo that'd work for both activities up here where the water stays cold. He said he'd stop in before closing (7 PM) to look at suits. I said okay, and we hung up. He called around 5:30 to say he was running late and wouldn't make it, like we had an appointment. That was nice, but I work in a store. Do you call other stores to check their hours and then call to tell them if you can't make it there? No, you don't. I don't anyway. He must think he was my only customer, in truth he would have been but... well, I just thought it was odd. Don't you?
April 13--Franck-Francois-Genes Chauvassaignes, Seated Nude in Studio.
Androgynous
neither masculine
nor feminine
definitely one
but which
masculine jaw
feminine hands
slim hips
could be either
thick ankles
dirty dirty feet
Not worth the trouble
since no one's still alive
who cares
--bam (I keep forgetting to sign them. Remind me, will you?)
~~~~~
She/he was a singularly disappointing nude with a dissatisfied look on his/her face. And those filthy feet really turned me off. Couldn't she/he at least washed his/her feet before the shutter snapped? Didn't they have soap in the 1850s? I'm sure they did. Grandma would have told me if they didn't. Hell, she made her own soap; I'm sure someone in France in the 1850s knew how to do that. It wasn't invented in America in the 1950s. Well that's when I saw her do it so that's my frame of reference. Au revoir, mes amis.
--Barbara
Last night after work we tossed our bags and Durwood's oxygen equipment into his van and HIT THE OPEN ROAD. When we were driving into Milwaukee the sun was setting in a beautiful blaze of orange. The Value Inn in Kenosha was definitely a blast from the past.
This morning we drove away from the 70s into some rain but by the third tollbooth the sun was out and it never went away.
