Thanks to Jim Adams, for hosting Song Lyric Sunday. Each week my blogging friend Angie at King Ben’s Grandma plays his game. He gives a prompt (or a series of prompts) and bloggers write a post related to the prompt. Every week, I find myself writing long, rambling comments on Angie’s blog related to the theme du … Continue reading Frenzy
Resilience
Susan and Sophie drove off to pick up carryout. Look at us gamely gutting through our vacation. Resilience. I read a blog post comparing it to a coat hanger. When a coat hanger gets bent out of shape, you can bend it back, Heck, you can untwist it, fish your keys out of a locked … Continue reading Resilience
Postcard from Maine
~ Not Eli ~ Eli crashed hard. I assume. I didn’t see it, he speeded ahead when the terrain got dicey. Or really, I slowed down and he didn’t. I rounded a bend and saw him flat on his back in the middle of the path, his bike in the brush. I could tell he … Continue reading Postcard from Maine
All Roads Point North
We arrived at five-thirty. Hours earlier than I expected. As late as eight seemed possible, but more likely seven. And no, we didn’t get an early start, we simply had a smooth ride. Mostly. We pulled off the highway in Easton to use a bathroom. The blue amenities sign before the exit showed a McDonalds … Continue reading All Roads Point North
The Quiet Grace of Rosasharn Joad
Rosasharn: that’s a marble-mouth pronunciation of Rose of Sharon, the third or fourth oldest child of Ma and Pa Joad. Blessed with a beautiful name at birth, her whole family mangles it as if they've crammed a massive plug of tobacco in their mouth. Her age is unclear and hard to compare against her brother … Continue reading The Quiet Grace of Rosasharn Joad
Meat
Gasp. A running post! I can’t remember the last time I wrote about running. You know the adage—don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. No one wants to read me spewing venom about my slow mile-pace, the dwindling distance of my long-run, the way I feel like I’m suffocating three miles … Continue reading Meat
Rain on My Parade
Take it easy, take it easyDon't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazyLighten up while you still canDon't even try to understandJust find a place to make your standAnd take it easy That’s the 1972 hit song Take It Easy written by Jackson Browne and recorded by the Eagles. I loathe both … Continue reading Rain on My Parade
Killing Another
We crammed into Scott’s office, six or seven of us. Wasting time, shooting bull, gabbing. Shelly was there, Gerard, the other Scott—Scott Van-Something, the Irish one from Boston. Me too, obviously, and a couple of others, the normal crowd. The conversation ranged as it usually did, free-flowing, following unpredictable paths. Details are murky, this happened … Continue reading Killing Another
Brood X
The entomologists call them Brood X—the United States' east coast seventeen-year cicadas. The name appeals to me, reminiscent of a late-seventies punk band. Each generation emerges from deep underground, molts, mates, lays eggs and then dies. Their path to sexual maturity extending longer than even humans. Their bizarre life-span leaves them without an obvious predator. … Continue reading Brood X
Queen of the Coast
Queen of the Coast by Laura Cantrell, so beautiful it makes me ache. Susan often talks about the divine. Specifically, musicians being touched by it… the divine. Her favorite example is the Beatles—really just John and George. I need to think about that, my favorite Beatles song is Don’t Pass Me By, written and sung … Continue reading Queen of the Coast
Jeff and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (Medical) Day
Do you know this title reference? It's from a kids' book. I don’t know the story: Alexander’s Super Bad Day, etc. I never read it as a kid. By the time the book came out, I was too old for it. And somehow, as a parent with two young children and a serious read-aloud addiction, … Continue reading Jeff and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (Medical) Day
Blaiku
Blossom blizzards blowbelow blust'ry blissful blue,blanket blushing blooms.
Questions with Jeff
Do you talk to yourself? Years ago, I took on an accounting position that sat vacant for eight months. My new desk languished in a sea of paper—two-hundred-forty stacks of daily accounting records waiting to be entered. Each day’s data took five to ten minutes to input unless there was a variance to research. There … Continue reading Questions with Jeff
Sheena
Sheena’s gone; Roz has diabetes; King Tut, cancer. Last week, I wrote about Tommy’s sudden laryngitis. I worried it could be—as cat-laryngitis sometimes is—the onset of a serious illness. Clearly, I worried about the wrong pet. Last night, Susan walked by Sheena’s habitat. “Oh no, Sheena died!” Sheena’s the corn snake we got when Sophie … Continue reading Sheena
The Wait
Every conversation is pretty much the same. “Mao?” *“Mao.” “Meow?”“Meow.” “Mew?”“Mew.” This goes on as long as I want. Tommy loves to talk. Typically, water is involved. He sits on the vanity at the edge of the sink, neck extended like a duck or a goose and rubs his head on the faucet, waiting for … Continue reading The Wait
Meditation
Jeff Cann, Meditation Practitioner. Cool title, maybe I should print business cards. I toyed with calling myself a meditator—Jeff Cann, Meditator—but I don’t like how it sounds. And who gets to decide which words end with or versus er? We’ve got bakers, renters, fighters and even practitioners. But then we’ve got meditators, mediators and aviators. … Continue reading Meditation
Destiny, + or –
Spoiler: Eli and I both tested negative. Predestiny. It isn’t a thing. We all have our beliefs. Some (mine) might be hurtful to others. Many people of faith view the events of life like a movie already in the can. The scenes play out as shot, no deviation from the plan. We, the actors, are … Continue reading Destiny, + or –
A Plate of Shrimp
Suppose you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate of shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in looking for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconsciousness. -- From the 1984 cult-classic movie Repo Man. Today, the cosmic unconsciousness is clicking in … Continue reading A Plate of Shrimp
One Hit
Rosemerry wrote of regret. A taste of winning… once. Fleeting fame and a lifelong slide. One hit wonder. Wonder how my life turned out without that one big hit. Rosemerry wrote about choices. Decisions and consequences. Success or failure, which is worse? Sip the elixir now, it dries to sawdust in your throat. Rosemerry wrote … Continue reading One Hit
Summit
This morning, Susan interrupted my Zoom to give me an update on the day. “…and Eli’s getting together with a friend this afternoon.” Grrr. I wanted us to go bike riding in the woods later on. It said so right on the meeting agenda: 1:30 – go bike riding in your local forest. Over the … Continue reading Summit
