At least I waited until the alarm went off before I rolled out of bed this morning. I did wake up around 2:30 thinking I heard Porter walking around on the floor. Nope, she was sleeping until I rudely turned on the light. We both got back to sleep just fine. Right now I'm trying to work up the oomph to put on outside shoes and take her for a walk. I know it'd be good for both of us, really, but it's frosty out there and I don't wanna. *waah* Last night Cookie and I went out to Mayflower Greenhouse to plant succulents in things. She bought a "frame" planter (they had a pile of 'em) with, like, a shadow box backing and chicken wire instead of glass, that you load up with soil and then poke the plants (plugs, they called them) through. I stopped at Goodwill and bought a pair of dark red, sparkle plastic pumps for $1.99, and I unearthed a McCoy strawberry pot that has killed everything I've planted in it for the last 15 years. I asked the curly-haired, hunky, Polish greenhouse guy (oh, yum) to drill a drain hole in it (broke my heart) so that these plants have a ghost of a chance of making it. Afterwards I invited Cookie over for a beer. I'm not sure I'm allowed to have friends over (she asked), but I'm the mom, at least I'm one of the mom's, so I did it. Porter barked at her (!), once, and not in a mean voice, but by the end of the hour she was rubbing herself on Cookie's legs and shamelessly flirting with her. Tramp. I ended my exciting evening by falling asleep in the couch watching Blue Planet (eep, how did that happen?) so I went to bed at 9:30, turning out the light around 10. Porty didn't mind, she likes going to bed "early." Now if I can only convince Penny to stop eating her egg when she lays it, life will be good. Or good-ish. (hey, I'm trying to perk up, really I am) I'm sure if I had a bit of that Mega Millions moolah they handed out last week, I'd be much happier. Or I could be cranky in a better location, that's it, because you know your mood follows you. Relocation isn't magic. I will be happier next week at this time. Guaranteed. I'll have spent a day driving to Lexington, KY with Durwood (always a good time) and be facing an entire day with DD. *sigh* It's a tough job but I'm up for it. There'll probably be barbecue involved too but no Hot Brown. Never again. I know it's not the real cause, but the last time I had one my gall bladder decided to rebel and I ended up spending the night in the ER and the rest of the visit on hydrocodone. (yeehaw) Not anyone's idea of a relaxing weekend. Okay, okay, Porter, we'll walk. Just let me get my poem typed and we'll walk. Sheesh, kids.
April 12--Sevres Manufactory, Teapot.
What tales it could tell
that Teapot
always seemed to have
its own agenda
that Sevres Teapot
Grandmama wielded it
like a jousting lance
that Teapot
symbol of ceremony
held callers in place
white paste porcelain glue
that fancy Teapot
held them so she could
run them through
silver Teapot handle flashing
oh so properly
~~~~~
Interesting, a teapot as a weapon. My kind of juxtaposition. Adios, muchachas. Off to walk the dawg. (gotta practice my Kentucky accent)
--Barbara
Gah! This is another reason why I don't own a pet, besides the fact that I don't really like them (only Porter and I don't want to own her, just borrow her every once in a while), they get up too danged early. She was whining and clicking her nails pacing on the floor. That means potty, I think. She doesn't really have an "I need to go out" signal so I assume everything means that she's going to have an accident any second so I vault out of bed. She probably does it on purpose, thinks it's funny when the flabby old woman flings off the covers and, in just her underpants, galumphs down the stairs to let her out. Yeah, not a pretty sight. (Ahh. I wound DS's antique clock from Mom so it just chimed. I like the sedate sound of this clock's bong.) DD called last night since she missed me last Sunday; this time next week we'll be rolling down the highway in Durwood's battleship of a van (is an Uplander a van or an SUV? *shrug*) to visit her. I can't wait; we can't wait. It'll be good to spend a few days with DD & DIL2 where it's warmer. It's 29 freakin' degrees out there right now. Twenty-nine! Brrr. I just went out to give Penny fresh chicken feed (hee) and water and nearly froze. And there was no egg--for the second day in a row. Either she's discovered how yummy fresh eggs are (yeah, they do eat their own eggs if they get a taste for them) or she's depressed because her people are gone. I do not for one minute think chickens are smart enough to get depressed. I might believe that she's lonely--might--because she's alone now and was used to having Henny around to be her pal, but depressed? No way. I just had a brain storm (okay, it was probably just a light sprinkle), I think I'm going to go load up my old backyard fireplace and the little pile of wood in the back of Beverly (I'll use a tarp so she doesn't get too dirty) and bring it here so I can have a fire at night. It's chilly enough and a fire would be nice. I can sit and watch the stars and sing old cowboy songs... um, no, won't be singing cowboy songs, it's been a while since I've been out on the range (never)... but I can talk to Porter and smell woodsmoke and enjoy the night. Plus it's a very sneaky way to get that fireplace and wood out of my yard and into one where it'll be used more than once a season, I am certain of that. I'll even bring my own chair and a blankie so I don't get cold. I know just where I'll put it too, way in the back of their deep lot so it's out of the way and yet close to the brush pile that will make awesome kindling. I could use a nice, muscle-exerting chore to sweat out my slump too. That'll be good. I'll get right on it--once the day's a bit more ripe, like into double digits. Hmm, maybe I can convince Durwood to let me load up some of the wood, and the wheelbarrow, into his vehicle so I can do this in one trip and not have to try and cram it all into Beverly. I don't think she'd hold it all in one go, especially with the wheelbarrow. I'll think upon it.
April 11--Japan, Bust of Warrior, NaPoWriMo, use all 5 senses.
Echoes of long ago fighting
reverberate in the pottery skull
Stink of battle clogs
the fine nostrils
Empty sockets watched
the horrors of war unfold
Battle cries from that silent
mouth spurred on his men
Insulated by armor
he felt no physical pain
There was no balm
for the inner hurt
There isn't still
--bam
~~~~~
I realized that I haven't been signing my poems. I like the "bam" signature because it's concise and punchy and attention-grabbing, and that's the way I want my poems to be. Don't often get there but I'm keeping on keeping on. I am one determined cuss.
Actually Porter didn't wake me up, I just woke up, all on my own at 6:00. (What's up with that???) So I let her out, took my pills, got (semi)decently dressed, and took her on a little walk. Not a big one, just around a few blocks. She might be raring to go in the morning but I'm not. It was short, maybe around 3 blocks, but it was better than no walk at all. She'll just have to deal. She barked! I let her out first thing and then went back upstairs to find my sweats and heard a dog barking. Close by. I looked out the window and there she was at the back of the lot, just a-barking away. I think I've only heard her bark one other time. DS & DIL1 are winging their way toward Munich, flying on Polish Airways (or whatever it's called--LOT??) to Warsaw (Frederic Chopin airport) and then on to Munich where they'll probably sleep for 12 hours or so, then get onto some serious vacationing. They're renting a car and driving, wending their way across Germany and into Belgium, sampling beer and touring breweries along the way. Sounds like fun, no? I'm staying all the way across GB (must be upwards of 4 miles) to mind the menagerie. Penny's pretty low-maintenance, I just need to give her fresh food and water every other day and collect an egg a day if she deigns to lay one, that is. Porter's a whole different story. She wants walks and food and being let out and petting and her smokey bone and a whole lot of other attention. I look on it as practice for when there might be a grandbaby. Porter can't talk, yes, but she's pretty expressive and I can make up what I don't understand since she's usually happy with whatever you do (except last night I was late getting here and found a puddle, oops , [where do they keep the cleaning supplies?] not her fault) and is pretty darned good at nudging me to do her bidding anyway. I won't go to bed as early as she likes to go though, not at 9 or 9:30, that's just crazy. Although if I did I'd probably have less trouble staying awake to write... nah, too early, I manage to eke out a few words. They may not be the best words or in the best order, but I get 'em out and onto the paper. Yay, me. I think I'm enjoying National Poetry Writing Month. I may not be cleaving to the official prompt every day but I am writing and posting, and that's a good thing. (urk, I channeled Martha Stewart there for a minute)
April 10--NaPoWriMo, Steal a First Line.
"When have I last looked on..." W.B. Yeats' Lines Written in Dejection
When have I last looked on
the face I love?
Only today through
sadness-shaded eyes.
His soft smile lifted
me up, kept me from
sinking
to the bottom of my
soul.
~~~~~
Well. Now that's cheerful, isn't it? Not. I need to perk up. I need to put on my big girl panties, pull myself up by my (not-inconsiderable) bra straps and get on with it. "It," in this case, meaning enjoying life, my life, not the life I wish I had because I'm never, no, not ever going to be svelte or have knees/legs that don't ache, so I just have to deal. And I need to stop sabotaging my efforts to eat healthy and make the scale numbers inch down ever so slowly. Oh, I'd love to wake up tomorrow a hundred pounds lighter but I've come to the realization that's never going to happen. Never. So I need to make myself happy with the way I am. I am a perfectly adequate human being and I need to start remembering that. Uber-expectations, begone! I'm turning in my Superwoman cape, or I would if it just wasn't sticking to me so tightly. I'll get it. Ignore any ripping sounds you hear from my direction. Oh good lord, listen to me rant and whine. Maybe a bowl of Cheerios will shut me up. How do you say goodbye in German? Anyone? Oh, I could Google it, couldn't I. Just a minute... well, duh... Auf Wiedersehen.
--Barbara
Jeez, that wind is cold today. I wore a hoodie, a fleece-lined vest, hat, gloves and fingerless mitts to walk with Porter, Skully & Maggie this morning and I was still cold. I got the lawnmower out of the shed and exchanged it for the snowblower and nearly froze my hoohoos off doing it. And that better not attract a snowstorm either. Porter just about turned herself inside out to try and get the halti collar off but I didn't let her. She doesn't pull my arm out of the socket and my back out of whack if I make her wear it. I give her special, only when she's wearing it, treats so it's not like I'm being mean to her or anything. Today, well, tonight I move across town and spend the next, um. let's see... 6 nights over there because DS & DIL1 are driving away to catch an airplane that will take them to Germany and Belgium for just over a week. Oh, I hope they have fun. I'm sure they will, they've planned their itinerary to drive in a rental car from tiny brewery to tiny brewery, staying in B&Bs along the way. They're very excited. They need a break, they've been going full speed since they bought their house last April, their jobs are demanding, and DS hasn't been to Europe. I can't wait to hear the stories they'll have to tell. This new Blogger has me off balance. It looks different, and it's a pain in the rump to arrange photos in it, and I can't find things. Why do they always have to screw around with things that work? Just leave it alone, people. Some of us are change-resistant and not so techie. Red grapes are on sale here. I bought some on Sunday and rinsed them today. I could eat them all. Every one of them. If I wasn't sure that it'd give me the runs. Better slack off.
April 9--Claude Monet, View of Vetheuil.
Bees bumble
flower to flower
mumbling to themselves
Gray spring days
rain to fill ditches
with tadpoles
Flames of spring
fires burn winter
dry brush
and sheds.
~~~~~~~
That's it for me. I've got a touch of the gray sickness today so I really want to spend the rest of the day on the couch, but I'll be finishing my to-do list and then packing to move to Porter's house later. Well, maybe a little nap.
--Barbara
We had a lovely day yesterday. I must confess that when I was running around like a crazed weasel frosting cakes, unpacking, and sweating like a hog, for 2 cents I'd have stayed home, but I'm so glad we didn't. We had a perfectly sunny and windy drive out to Shawano after we crossed town the wrong way to let Porter out to potty. DS & DIL1 had gone early to attend Easter service so the poor dog would have had to hold it a very long time. Happy to oblige, Porty. The drive gave me time to settle, to let my nerves unjangle, it was good. HZ had made a lovely ham, baby carrots, roasted fresh asparagus, au gratin potatoes, and the traditional Z family green Jello molded salad. It's a good "salad," don't make fun and don't roll your eyes. My bunny cakes were a big hit although with only 8 at dinner I could have frosted only one layer of carrot cake, thereby having thicker frosting and a cake in reserve. Now we've got a whole bunny cake to deal with before it goes bad. What a pity. After lunch we followed Jefe's car down to the Wolf River at the Shawano Dam to watch the sturgeon spawning. See? Fish sex. I've linked you to the "dam cam" (scroll down past all the ads) so you can see them close up. On the way home we swung by Walmart so I could get a rotisserie chicken and an onion (I splurged on a bag of red grapes too. Oooh, crazy) so I could make soup for lunches this week and next. I put in extra onion, 3/4 of a small head of cabbage, and a can of white cannellini beans, and called it soup. When I make soup, I feel like I could save the world. If they'd just keep me in deli chickens and broth, no one on Earth would go to bed hungry. I'd see to it. As I was finishing it up, a commercial about kids not knowing where their next meal was coming from came on the TV, I told Durwood that I'd make soup for all of them if they'd let me. Maybe that's my destiny, I can be an itinerant soup maker, going from town to town, village to village, stirring up soup, leaving full bellies in my wake. There's no such thing as bad soup, all you need to do is add a little salt and any veggie that holds still long enough to be scrubbed and chopped up. It's all good. Aw, man, look at the time! I gotta get a move on...
April 8--NaPoWriMo, Go Outside.
Prehistoric fish
heed the call
buried deep
in its DNA
writhe and leap
at the dam
rush of water
biological imperative.
~~~~~
Gotta run. Love you, bye.
--Barbara
At least I waited until the alarm went off before I rolled out of bed this morning. I did wake up around 2:30 thinking I heard Porter walking around on the floor. Nope, she was sleeping until I rudely turned on the light. We both got back to sleep just fine. Right now I'm trying to work up the oomph to put on outside shoes and take her for a walk. I know it'd be good for both of us, really, but it's frosty out there and I don't wanna. *waah* Last night Cookie and I went out to Mayflower Greenhouse to plant succulents in things. She bought a "frame" planter (they had a pile of 'em) with, like, a shadow box backing and chicken wire instead of glass, that you load up with soil and then poke the plants (plugs, they called them) through. I stopped at Goodwill and bought a pair of dark red, sparkle plastic pumps for $1.99, and I unearthed a McCoy strawberry pot that has killed everything I've planted in it for the last 15 years. I asked the curly-haired, hunky, Polish greenhouse guy (oh, yum) to drill a drain hole in it (broke my heart) so that these plants have a ghost of a chance of making it. Afterwards I invited Cookie over for a beer. I'm not sure I'm allowed to have friends over (she asked), but I'm the mom, at least I'm one of the mom's, so I did it. Porter barked at her (!), once, and not in a mean voice, but by the end of the hour she was rubbing herself on Cookie's legs and shamelessly flirting with her. Tramp. I ended my exciting evening by falling asleep in the couch watching Blue Planet (eep, how did that happen?) so I went to bed at 9:30, turning out the light around 10. Porty didn't mind, she likes going to bed "early." Now if I can only convince Penny to stop eating her egg when she lays it, life will be good. Or good-ish. (hey, I'm trying to perk up, really I am) I'm sure if I had a bit of that Mega Millions moolah they handed out last week, I'd be much happier. Or I could be cranky in a better location, that's it, because you know your mood follows you. Relocation isn't magic. I will be happier next week at this time. Guaranteed. I'll have spent a day driving to Lexington, KY with Durwood (always a good time) and be facing an entire day with DD. *sigh* It's a tough job but I'm up for it. There'll probably be barbecue involved too but no Hot Brown. Never again. I know it's not the real cause, but the last time I had one my gall bladder decided to rebel and I ended up spending the night in the ER and the rest of the visit on hydrocodone. (yeehaw) Not anyone's idea of a relaxing weekend. Okay, okay, Porter, we'll walk. Just let me get my poem typed and we'll walk. Sheesh, kids.
white paste porcelain glue
