Minding Your Words

Or even as thought balloons that lingered for quite some time after the words were spoken. . .

#MicroBlogMonday 

Tough Week

I'm trying, but it isn't working out so well this week. It is taking every single ounce of energy I have to get up, get to work, do my work (to the best of my ability) and make it home, where this week I've been crashing, asleep before eleven only to wake up at 2: 30 ish. Again at 3:30 ish and yet again, at 4:30 ish, only to have to be up by 5:30 and out the door by 7--to do it all over again.  I'm trying not to dwell, I'm trying not to wallow. But, I don't feel like doing anything but wallowing. But, she wouldn't like that so again, I rise.

May 26, 1940 - Feb. 18, 2013
Peace, be still. 

Too Sharp to B Flat

Photo by Amol Art 

My son ("The Actor") is, through a variety of means (youtube tutorials, books picked up in thrifts, and one-on-ones with working musicians) learning to play the blues harp as well as acoustic guitar.

He's played on the streets to the delight of passers-by, he's participated in open mic type jam sessions at one of the few spaces featuring live music, he has held guest appearances with some featured acts.

The actor has been having a grand time learning, jamming, building his repertoire. Though he isn't striving to become a working musician he does anticipate having music in the mix will further enhance his résumé.

Today is the anniversary of the actor's birth. He continues his slice through time with his usual grace and aplomb; staying in tune and razor sharp to the bone.

 Happy 34th birthday to Bluesman slash Actor.

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Super Bowled Over

I don't know how much a Super Bowl ad spot is going for these days. I do know, that the ads ARE the thing. And of the few that have I've seen so far, this hit me. Full disclosure, I am not a huge fan of ketchup and as a "Chicago Hot Dog" person (when I eat hot dogs) NEVER on a hot dog. Still, I like this ad. It's fun.

I'll tune in to see what folks who paid trillion bucks (or whatever it is) for air time bring to the party.

Oh, and somewhere in there, a football game will be happening. Cheers and pass the chips!

 

Be Still My Heart

Aretha Franklin has been as much a part of my growing up as collard greens and cornbread. Carol King's Tapestry was one of the first albums I bought with my own money. This moment was one of the greatest TV moments in my recent memory and I shall cherish it for years to come. 

Natural. Women. Swoon. 

#MicroBlogMonday   

No Offense Taken

A "senior" coffee is fifty-five cents at the local quick service spot near work. I only know that
because this morning, the clerk who took my order charged me for a  "senior" coffee.  Which sent me on an
all day bender trying to figure out what it was about me
that had her take me for a "senior" whatever that is
in their establishment.

My head was covered (winter, dontchaknow) but even if it wasn't my hair is still more pepper
than salt. It is possible she just gave me the once-over and decided by coat (and / or
over-all manner of dress) was just not trendy enough to be anything less than, "senior" Again,
whatever that is to her  (all of 20, if that) and/or the establishment.

I was feeling pretty spry after y long bus rides having worked out the kinks and plantar
fascitis type aches and pains, cause for the occasional limp--so I don't think it was my gait that read,
"senior."

All day I wondered.

 Until I decided that it wasn't my appearance
that drove the clerk to the "senior" key.
It was how I ordered or rather,
how she heard my order .

"May I have a 'small' coffee and 2 oatmeal cookies?"
became, "May I have a 'senior' . . .

That has to be it, she heard senior instead of small.. Yes,
that has to be . .
IT!

#MicroBlogMonday  

Soon-Ah, Very Soon

Simple things, some lovely simple things.

#SixWordSaturday

New Year, New Plan

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One of the brunch aunts gifted me with a blender. While we were chatting that Saturday,  I mentioned wanting / needing one and she had an extra (older model) and so, now I have a blender. I have spent the better part of last year collecting healthful alternatives and adding more fruit and vegetables to my total intake. 

This morning's smoothie: pineapple, yogurt, cranberries, and spinach. 
  
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Woke Up Weak

We (me and various members of my extended family--even those who have died) are gathered in what looked like a big treehouse. We are there for a nephew’s 6th birthday party. As folks are getting their party hats on, so to speak, the smell of frying fish and chicken wafts throughout.  

Someone yells that we needed ...something. I hop to volunteer to go get the something. Cinnamon and I get into an uncle’s Chevy Impala. There aren’t any parking spaces, so I double, jump out and ..   SHIT!  

Engine running, door locked, Cinnamon inside.  

Panic explodes on the inside of my head.

I try to figure out a way inside the car. Thankfully there was no traffic in fact, no one was on the street. At. All. Still, my head is spinning with what could happen. Running car. Dog inside. Folks at the party waiting for me (and whatever it is I went to get). All the doors are locked, Futility pushes me to try them anyway.

Sweet sassy molasses, the passenger side door isn’t locked. I swing it open, reach across the seats to turn off the car and grab the keys out of the ignition. As I stand, three women with beehive hairdos approach and proceed to enter the car. Appearing mildly miffed by the presence of the dog slows but doesn't stop them. They are chattering away. 

I am temporarily stunned into silence but do find voice enough to ask what

they are doing. Again, miffed that I seem so dense; as it was clear to them I was the ride arranged by the planners of whatever event they were attending. I stumbled out an explanation that I was not, in fact, their ride and they had to get out of the car. I was still frantic to get back to pick up . . . whatever it was I went to pick up for the party and get back before too much longer.

The ladies with the air in their hair start to argue or negotiate when 

Cinnamon BARKS and I wake up.  

With a headache.

First dream of 2016.

#MicroBlogMonday Go check out Mel's place for more MicroMonday entries.

So Far, So Okay

Happy New Year. So Much Ambition. 

#SixwordSaturday

Bringing in the New/s

This is the time of year when we (as a collective) tend to think about resolutions and the like, in one way or another. Some of for 'em and make them. Some are agin 'em and don't make them. Some are on the fence, don't feel strongly either way but will allow that breaking into a new year warrants . . something.

And some, don't. Anything.

Though I haven't used the word I have, at year's end (or the very beginning) over the past several, written of things that I wanted, hoped, resolved to accomplish or at the very least, try making some headway toward achievement. Some disciplines have been put in place, some headway has been achieved.

But, by-and-large, I am not where I resolved to be in most of  the areas.

It has been a challenging few years; both parents dying within months of one another, a lay-off after 30+ years of steady, gainful--solid middle class--employment, several months of unemployment, several months of unemployment masquerading as sales (100% commission) and several months (and counting) of working earning less than half of the pre-layoff salary.

Challenges. It has been difficult staying on task (any task). Grief takes a toll. Eagle-eyeing a budget, robbing Peter to pay Paul, takes a toll. Crossing all fingers and toes that not another thing breaks or otherwise needs replacing, takes a toll. Trying to keep up with preventative maintenance on such a slim margin, takes a toll. Lack of a particular brand of companionship, takes a toll. Being the leader, takes a toll.

Still, I managed to write a letter a month over this past year. I posted 30
31 more times in 2015 than 2014. I crafted 2 more holiday greetings this year over last. I filled 4 pages in a sketchbook. I practised Spanish. I studied and have earned a couple of certificates in the medical terminology and medical billing programs. I colored pages in my Celtic Mandala pattern book.
On the other hand, I am still a good 40 pounds from my goal weight, inconsistent with steps, lazy approach to food--which usually results to less than positive choices.  I have much more purging and organizing in both my physical and virtual worlds, to do. And then there are the home maintenance and improvement projects.

It isn't just the lack of funds, but that is factor. Challenges.

So, I will resolve to try. I will endeavor to maintain the disciplines established. I will work to improve the track record toward positive changes. I will try to remain on task toward finishing some things and thinking about how I may stay present in the day-to-day. I will try to not fret over results. I will try to focus on taking the steps, picking up the pen (or whatever tool) and just doing the thing--whatever the thing is in any given moment, on any given day. I will try to avoid becoming overwhelmed with the weight of it all.

Long story short, I will try to keep on keeping on, do whatever it is in my power to have more yay and fewer nay days.

May the force  . . yada x3.

#MicroBlogMonday   Click the link to read more MBM offerings.
 

Brunch with Aunts

These lovely ladies are two of my mom's four remaining sisters. Mom was the middle girl between them. Closest to us geographically throughout my growing up, mom spent a lot of time with them for they were closer to each other than with the other (many) siblings. Seeing them, speaking to them brings back so many fond (and some not so fond, but that's family) memories. 

The three had a tradition of gathering around Christmas, eating, drinking, laughing and just being sisters, friends.This year I was invited to share in an evening of talk, frivolity, food, and more. I was hesitant to accept the invite for I miss my mom more when I am in their company. But, I also miss my mom less when I am in their company. I suspect the same is true for them. That realization sealed the deal. 

It was so much fun.  

#MicroblogMonday. Go, read. Write. :-)  

One Hour and Thirty Minutes

Two Boys in A Box 

The one-way AM commute, using the best route takes one hour and thirty minutes, most days. And most days, the evening commute is a crap shoot but takes at least one hour and thirty minutes.

If  I go to the nearest laundry mat, early enough on a Sunday morning, don't have a wait for either a washer or dryer, I can complete a double load of laundry in one hour and thirty minutes--not counting putting away once home again.

Last Tuesday, one hour and thirty minutes was spent saying a final good-bye to a cousin, supporting a mother burying her only child, a son who was himself a father and grand-father. The hardest, second most emotional hour and thirty minutes of 2015.

I am finding a small measure of comfort in measuring the time it takes to do things. One hour and thirty minutes from lights out tonight, I hope to be asleep and to rest for longer than the one hour and thirty minute stretches of the last several days.

#MicroBlog Monday    Go. Read. Blog.

Occupations

My son, the actor, decided long ago that he wouldn't use the word actress to describe a female actor. He would simply use, actor. One arguement is that as the nature of the work doesn't change with the gender, changing the word just doesn't make sense.

Few are the occupations that change the word based on gender.

Even in the arts it is one of few (only?) occupation titles that gender sorts. Dancers, Vocalists, Musicians, Designers, Directors, Bassoonists, etc . . none of these and more identify the gender of the performer.

We (he and I) have spoken often of the ramifications of words, the import of terms and how they are wielded. My son, the actor, decided long ago to cease use of the word actress to describe a female actor.


Can you think of any profession in which the word for same is different depending on the gender of the performer?


#MicroBlogMonday

Canyon

Instinctively, her arms jut as she tumbled. Deliberately, I extended mine, not to catch her, but to join her in the tumble as we sought purchase in canyon of love.  


#MicroBlogMonday

Second Weekend in November

Sixty degree temps in the middle of November prompted a trip outdoors to get down to the yard work put off for too many weekends to count. The fallen, blown leaves ankle deep needed to be curbed, shrubbery grown out of control needed to be tamed, and trash by way of empty cups and assorted wrappers resting atop and buried within the ankle deep fallen leaves needed to be properly disposed.

And so, for several hours over the two weekend days I raked, pruned, and collected trash to be disposed. Work mostly done on auto-pilot usually means the mind (mine, anyway) wanders. My wandering mind settled on a list, which is not surprising, of rampant and recent annoyances, which is kind of surprising.

In no particular order:

Folks who won't use trash receptacles to properly dispose of their trash.

Neon signs that scream "open" when the establishment is in fact, closed.
And businesses without posted hours of operation. AND businesses that have posted hours
but do not adhere to them consistently.

Folks who use "actually" in a manner that is . . . superfluous, to say the least.

Bombs. I cannot imagine being in a space directly impacted by the act of bombing. But, even from afar, I am annoyed. Angry, even.

Just to name a few.

I am grateful for the sixty degree days and the opportunity to wrangle the yard into shape for I know the other side of the weather coin is but a pattern away. I am grateful too, for having a mind--even if it does wander--even if the wandering leads to less than pleasant thoughts. Those too, can be productive, in time.

But, that's a thought for another day.

#MicroBlog Monday.  

 

Welcome to November

$14.57 on hand with five days to go before the next payday, a mild panic rose in her chest. A quick check of her transit card balance and even quicker calculation toward determining how much of the $14.57 had to be committed to getting to work for the next four days, elevated the panic from mild to extreme.*


#MicroBlogMonday -- go see, read, play along. 

*fictionalized reality.

Fun Day

Pete may or may not have been having fun. Buttah, though seemed 

to be enjoying himself. 

Feeling more like Pete these days. 

#MicroblogMonday~ go check 'em out. 

Older. New Thing.

Yesterday was my daughter's thirtieth birthday.  The thirty days leading into her birth date has been a journey down memory lane, much of which was shared in this space and to my FB circle. From this day forward I am the parent of two "kids" in their thirties.

And so today, I had flour-less pancakes; banana and eggs. Hmmm...  I think tomorrow I shall try it with cinnamon.

#MicroBlog Monday 

Thirty Out Loud

Over the past thirty days I've shared "through the years images" of my daughter in pre-celebration of her thirtieth birthday, which is today. 

Over the past thirty years my daughter and I (and the rest of the family) have shared much, as you may imagine. She has been the source of some of my greatest joys and the opposite. 

Over the past thirty days I have come to recall some moments of the last thirty years, sparking wonder-filled conversations and laughter. 

Over the past thirty years I have helped my daughter navigate; learning as I taught.  

Over the past thirty days, as I've re-visited words and images I am reminded of the tenacity of her spirit, 

the expanse of her personality, the quality of her character. 

Over the past thirty years there have been ups and downs. We survived, I believe because we have been able to talk. And write what may have proven difficult to verbalize.  

Over the past thirty days I re-visited the large and small celebrations; remembering how we've cheered each other's  triumphs. Here's to the happiest of happy days today, tomorrow, and beyond.