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in a bubble? [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“living your life in a bubble will give you the illusion that everything is ok.”

i know this is true. i know that – even though we are not members of the fiscally-elite, the upwardly-mobile, the investment-heavy, on the supposedly-can’t-be-touched rung of the caste ladder – we still live in a bubble. because we are white. because we were born to citizens of this nation and are – clearly – citizens ourselves. because we – even in the mediocre middle-ish of middle-class where we plop our pins of existence – are privileged. we – even with the challenges we face – in terms of income, healthcare and living expenses, loans of whatever sort we all need, the ability to get and consume food and water and a safe place to live – we are fortunate.

we are aware. and we are grateful. there is not a day that goes by that we don’t look at each other and – truly – say how very lucky we are.

and, yet, in that awareness we know that everything is not ok.

the membrane of whatever bubble in which we might reside is permeable. we participate in the gleaning of information, the parsing out of truth, the speaking-up against bigotry and extremism, the knowledge that these are dangerous times. we cannot linger within a bubble that allows us to flit from one day to another sans worry.

to walk in a world where you won’t talk about what is actually happening, where you won’t discuss corruption or the decimation of our nation, where you won’t “go there” as we have heard from those unwilling to, well, go there – feels as if there is an illusion that everything is just fine, that one feels untouchable, that someone else’s pain is not yours, that empathy is no longer in vogue.

it is disturbing that in order to reclaim our country we need all talk and join together and yet there are so many who just choose to linger in their bubbles, flitting about doing “normal” life – at a time when nothing is actually “normal” or, worse yet, floating in an echo chamber of propaganda – like a pod unto itself.

the bubble wand is one of those instantly recognizable things. it immediately conjures up images of iridescent bubbles floating mid-air, powered by nearby breezes. it is a visceral memory of childhood – ours, our children’s. a happy thought.

bubbles go hand in hand with unicorns and magical sunrises, joyous icons of life.

but bubbles pop. and unicorns don’t exist. and the sun draping the sky with the colors of rising doesn’t last beyond dawn. and reality is reality.

we are all in this…this world. everything is not ok.

lest we get lost in the illusion – and are therefore surprised at the cruelty, the destruction, the demolition of things good and natural and constitutional and humane – we need to be open to the truth of it all, to not be deluded, to not place stake in a mirage or a floating effervescent air globule.

everything is not ok. can we please address this honestly?

*****

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opportunistic foragers. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we are equal grape jelly opportunity suppliers (egjos, for those of you who like acronyms). though our dedication to grape jelly is – supposedly – for the orioles and house finches, house sparrows and hungry potbellied squirrels are enthusiastic fans. and i mean, who can blame them? they are opportunistic foragers so all’s fair game.

we personally don’t have an issue with sparrows and squirrels eating jelly. we just clean the vessel and refill it as needed. watching from the deck or the patio is a joy and those squirrels – well – they are sooo entertaining with antics that challenge world-class acrobats (all while they are also always keeping an eye out for dogga).

opportunistic foragers take what they can get. if welch’s is on the table, then welch’s it is.

in the last few days, few months, couple of years, we have read numerous articles about the government of this nation – you know, the government of the people, by the people, for the people – eliminating all kinds of regulations that protect the people, protect the people’s land, protect the people’s food, protect the people’s water, protect the people’s healthcare, protect the people’s education, protect the people’s social programs, protect the people’s rights, protect the people’s vote, protect the natural resources and wildlife that is part of the land of the people. and why is that? because – in an innocent google – i came across a term that describes them in a polite way: they are opportunistic foragers. they will take whatever upon which they can get their greedy paws.

“…politicians are widely characterized as opportunistic foragers who navigate their environments by adjusting policies, rhetoric, and alliances to maximize power and secure reelection.” (ai)

not cute like pudgy squirrels or innocent like house sparrows, they are robbing our grape jelly and absolutely everything else we-the-people value. the corruption is rampant, the conscience is absent, the constitutional cornerstone of this country is ripping.

and they keep on foraging.

*****

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tabouli party. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

in dramatically exciting news, this has been the week of tabouli. with heat indexes off the charts, it’s a refreshing change of pace.

it’s only mid-july and already our little potting stand garden is rocking. we have sooo much mint, a wild burst of chives and some curly parsley (our flat parsley has been the incredible-shrinking parsley – which must be because it’s on the preferred diet choices of our local squirrels.) the first batch of jalapeños are ready to harvest, many of the cherry tomatoes are orange-ing up, the basil is happily basil-ing along.

in an effort to use the herbs of which we have plenty, it brought to mind our quinoa tabouli – which uses the harvest we already have at our fingertips.

in these days of sickly sticky parasites invading the fruits and vegetables of these united states it feels extra good to have just gone a few steps outside to clip off what i needed for this fresh salad. it is a weird world with way too many things to worry about.

pasta with basil, homemade pizza margherita, jalapeño poppers, pesto, mint and lemon suntea that basked on the deck…and soon…more of our own cherry tomatoes for everything under the sun…the recipes line up in wait.

our adirondack chairs adjacent to our little burgeoning herbandveggie garden, we sat outside – after dinner – after sunset – while the fireflies danced through the backyard – and talked. our tiki-type torches lit, dogga conked out on the deck, we reviewed yet another strange set of days – strange in an insane number of ways. we wondered – yet again – what we can do.

we are beyond saddened by the schisms that deepen with every single corrupt thing that is reported (leaving us to truly ponder what is too opaque – too silenced – too hidden – to be reported, even by hardworking alternative media sources.)

and yet we know – even with our intense sadness – that there is no going back. anyone who thinks that all this is acceptable in any way – including what seems too easy to avoid – the new veggiefruit parasites running rampant because of this administration’s gluttonous greed and incompetence – is lost to us. that loss is mindboggling. it is heartwrenching.

and so, i guess we’ll just party on with our tabouli.

*****

WEEPING MAN mixed media 48″ x 36″ (available for purchase)

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schmancy-fancy. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

our lakefront is really quite beautiful. the city does a remarkable job with the gardens; flowers are everywhere. the harbor and the pavilion at the park are sites for many a photo shoot – anything from proms to family reunions to weddings to quinceañeras. just a few days ago we walked past a bride and groom and their stunningly-dressed wedding party celebrating over by the beach, just beyond the ribbon-wrapped-chairs in the garden.

i imagine this sequin-lace-tulle butterfly is from either a quinceañera dress or, less likely, a prom gown. somehow it took wing and flew from the hostess’ frock, this froo-froo landing on the harbor sidewalk where we walked by it on a hot summer day. though i snapped photographs of it, we didn’t pick it up, thinking that maybe a little girl or boy might pass by and claim this magical butterfly, seemingly waiting for them. i can dream a little.

though i have a few sequins – concert performing clothes – i haven’t worn any in quite a while. these few hangers have been relegated to a side of my small closet – things that hold no current relevance. even most concerts didn’t merit sequins. not because the audience didn’t merit them, but because i am not really a sequin person and i like to perform authentically.

we just aren’t fancy-schmancy people.

20 stared at my flipflops the other day – wrinkling his brow and grimacing with a few words, “expensive flipflops, eh?” and “i don’t like flipflops”.

old navy flipflops have pretty much been our standard fare in the summer. though age and knees and hips and such have made us hike in actual hiking sandals. nevertheless nothing schmancy. i wrinkled and grimaced back at him.

i have to say, though, that i have taken a liking to fancy bandaids. because i am having some sort of toe issue – i injured my toe and the nail fell off – i know, ewwwww. i have taken to wearing a bandaid over my toe to protect it.

now, i am a toenail polish girl – mostly because i inherited these enormous toes from my parents and painting them makes me feel better about their gigunda size (and also distorts my reality by making me think that they look smaller, more dainty and feminine with merlot-colored toenail polish on them). in real life, i suppose no one is really looking at my toes – though they might now that i have drawn attention to them. regardless, a plain beige (plastic or flexible fabric) bandaid on my big toe is gauche perched next to my other toes with self-painted merlot. (some of the perils of womanhood are grander than others.)

and so, i went on the search for fancier bandaids.

funny. most printed bandaids are for children. they have tons of options. not so much for adults or – specifically – a woman trying to disguise a non-nailed toe amidst her other toes, which aren’t so cute to begin with.

i did find a box of wildflower bandaids. the distribution of sizes is a challenge. they parse out 15 tiny bandaids, 10 medium bandaids and only give you like 5 bandaids of the largest size – the size i need for my nailless toe. (of note – in case you need this information: large wildflower print does nothing to tone down a large toe. small wildflower print helps minimally.) i honed my skill at layering a plain bandaid with a fancy-schmancy one and bought a second box just in case. lord knows how long the grow-out might take. and what if i have to go to something fancy-schmancy in the meanwhile…something that requires cute sandals and a sundress or the flowy overalls in my closet i like to wear with flipflops that have a little slanted platform (also old navy and so many years old now that i dread their demise)…

if, perchance, you are worried about my wearying of this one print of bandaids (two if you count the layering approach), i certainly welcome any and all suggestions of other schmancy bandaids you have found.

in the meanwhile, i could always wrap my toe in tulle, sequins and lace and call it good.

ahh…the saying “you can dress ’em up but you can’t take ’em anywhere” comes to mind.

*****

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on the horizon. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

in the “what’s in your wallet” series of ads, adorable jennifer garner is featured as a fixture of the marketing campaign. pictured everywhere, she quips, “what’s in your wallet?” advertising for the capital one credit card.

staring south down lake michigan we can sometimes see itty-bitty evidence of the chicago skyline. the curvature of the earth…the line of sight – slightly angled upward looking south – appears farther east, the right atmospheric conditions and refraction of light in the atmosphere…bending light’s path, the time of day…best when the sun is lower in the sky: all factors in the the ability to see even portions of that incredible skyline. the words “what’s on your horizon?” come to mind.

as the sun set in the west, the east put on a show the other day. with shades of trader joe’s dried mango slices and glasses of provence rosé dancing along the horizon, i waved at chicago, fully believing our son could see it. the magic of the horizon is like that.

i suppose that we don’t know – day to day – what will really be on our horizon. there are no guarantees and so we really should do the best we can to live best each of these days – chock full of horizon possibilities. like my sweet momma said, who would have been 105 a few days ago on the 5th, “live life, my sweet potato”.

but in these uncertain times we find we also have to draw some lines – on our horizon. we cannot pollyanna that which is ‘out there’. there are things we refuse to ignore, things that impact people we love and care about and, yes, even people we do not know, things that are based on cruel and extremist ideologies (if you can even call them ‘ideologies’ – which seems generous, considering the intentions behind them). there are things that color our days, whether or not they directly affect us. we can’t look away or be dismissive. we can’t become part of a kind of conscious avoidance, of avoiding the seeing of or learning about what is really happening in an escape to having to push-back against it, or – even worse – a denial of knowledge of its existence. the horizon is all of it. all the layers.

and even in the day to day of our lives – with all the layers of personal stuff to deal with on our own horizons – it is impossible to not feel the burden of trying to save this democracy, the heavy weight of trying to hold true to the constitution and its amendments, all the colors of what it means to live right now coalescing to make our horizon complicated.

we look down the lake, squinting to see chicago. sometimes the view is clear and sometimes – when the conditions are not in place – it is totally obstructed.

maybe we need to keep looking – to view, to discern our horizon at all different times of day and night, during all different weather circumstances, at all ages and stages – in order to get an accurate picture of what’s really out there, to grok the magic and the challenge of the horizon: all its choices and decisions, all its beauty and its ugly, all it can show us about living authentically – so that we can honestly answer “what’s on your horizon?”

*****

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one glorious iota. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“…and the moon rises, so beautiful it makes me shudder, makes me think about time and space, makes me take measure of myself: one iota pondering heaven…” (mary oliver – the sweetness of dogs)

in the moments we all sometimes immerse – those moments when we take ourselves way too seriously, when we feel intertwined with angst, when we foolheartedly believe there is allthetimeintheworld – we should sit and watch the moon rise.

it has risen every day whether or not the old truck’s battery was dead, whether or not all the burners on the stove worked, whether or not we wore namebrand clothing or had namebrand cars, whether or not the student loans were paid, whether or not the bedroom furniture matched, whether or not we had a few pounds to shed, whether or not we had a mighty 401k, whether or not we had granite countertops, whether or not my hair looked good, whether or not the old wood floors squeaked, whether or not we had extension eyelashes, whether or not we had plaques or certificates lining our office walls, whether or not the chimney leaked, whether or not we had visited saint lucia or monaco, whether or not we had a 72″ tv, whether or not we had central air conditioning, whether or not we had a walk-in closet or a dishwasher, whether or not we were retail fanatics, whether or not we had followers, whether or not we had fiscal or commercial success, whether or not we lived authentically.

because the moon is like that. it is incessantly dependable. it is a sure thing. it is the tide of our souls. its passing by – its wax and wane – brings us to the peaks and the abysses, both.

and though we may – from time to time – linger in the whatwedon’thaves, that moon – annoyingly – is unperturbed by it all. its rise, its fall – like breath in our chest. we, like the moon, keep going nonetheless.

and i stood and looked at the tiny crescent moon above our beloved old house and i could feel all the passage of time – zooming through me – until i arrived at the moment i was in.

and everything i had seen or felt or lived made sense. the dots connected for the briefest moment. and i was – yes – one iota.

one glorious iota.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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paper plate holiday. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

there are paper plates hanging on trees just off the sidewalk all over our ‘hood. they announce that there will be a fourth of july parade early on the 4th.

for all the years i have lived here – longer than i’ve lived anywhere – there has been a childrens’ bike and stroller parade on independence day here in allendale. we used to have jack andrea at the front of the parade, beating a snare drum – with everyone, all decked out in red, white and blue with decorated bikes and strollers and wagons, following along. a joyous time followed by ice cream on author florence parry heide’s front lawn (now, for years, moved to a different front lawn).

at some point our children became too grown-up to participate in this parade and it was handed down to the younger children in the neighborhood.

for years now, we haven’t participated in it, but it still holds an old-timey sense of charm for me and i still can feel the anticipatory glee of little children who get to be in a parade.

only this time – as the parade makes its way around the blocks – i worry about what is to come for those very little children. this time – though we are celebrating our democracy – i wonder how long it will hold. this time – though a 250th celebration should be a big deal – i have to sit it out – the glee, the charm, the excitement. this time i have deep concern about where it is this country is heading.

dogga is more and more bothered by the fireworks, so we will not be leaving him as they proliferate throughout the lakefront. as our boundary-less neighbors set off giant fireworks directly behind our house, we will try to shield dogga from the noise and flashing lights, from the fire in the trees and the sky.

i worry about the opossums, the raccoon babies and the birds and squirrels in the trees adjacent to those pyrotechnics and crackers that rock the house. i worry about the fallout of bits of firework that we find in our yard and on our patio, our deck, inevitably our roof, the next morning. i worry about the lack of regard to safety and – as it approaches the wee hours of the night – i wonder about the lack of respect for others.

what is it they are celebrating? i wonder. what is it we-the-people are passing on to our children, our childrens’ children?

what about our country – in these moments – in the throes of unprecedented corruption – is there to celebrate?

the purple allium is in the garden over behind the art center on the lake.

as much as i have enjoyed a good fireworks display – and even a hand-held sparkler from time to time – this time – this year – in this country’s current circumstances – on this paper plate holiday – i will just glance over at the striking allium – exploding in all its purple glory – and call it a day.

*****

FIGURE IT OUT ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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thinking about you. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

purple has been her favorite color for as long as i can remember. so every single time i come upon a purple flower i think of her. this time – this downy wood mint – was no different.

i don’t always send a picture or a message that says i’m thinking about you but maybe i should.

because in these days i’m realizing that people really need that. people really need to hear that you are thinking about them, sending them good wishes, holding them close at that moment. because these are not normal times.

we are sticking closer to home, closer to our dogga. we don’t want to miss any moments with him, don’t want to not be there if he needs us. it’s not too much to ask from a beautiful being who has loved us unconditionally from the first. and so we hang out at home, out on the deck, on the patio.

sometimes we go to the store to resupply and sometimes we go for a hike. we ask 20 for help when we have to be gone a little longer, to stop in and keep an eye on dogga.

we won’t be going on vacation – away – this summer. it’s just not the right time for that. our priority needs to be this amazing pooch who has stood by us in every moment.

and so we tend our little garden – herbs and vegetables and flowers. we make suntea on the deck and move our adirondack chairs from sun to shade and back again. we are grateful for the littlest things – the house sparrows taking dirtbaths in the holes our dogga digs. the squirrels scampering across the wire and down the spruce to get a sip of water at the birdbath. the intermittent hummingbirds at the feeder, the cardinals on barney munching on birdseed, the baby raccoon trilling from the maples behind us. nothing extraordinarily exciting, but it all feeds our souls on this daisy path.

and – as we chat – planning or reminiscing – we pick up our phones every now and then and let someone know we are thinking of them. at that very moment. knowing how good – how reassured – it makes US feel, we try to do the same.

because these are not normal times.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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the best we can be. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

in a diverse cross-section of life, i sat at the round table – one of fifteen such tables in the room. there are chairs, too, but not enough to accommodate all the people in the room, waiting.

it is a waiting place.

it is a jury room…and the hundred-twenty-five or so people gathered there all held a little orange card with their panel number on it.

it was a strange time to be serving jury duty, for more than one reason. the climate in this country does not seem to be one where the law is upheld, where the court is respected. and the ultimate court, those supreme justices, seem to be strangling the constitution at every turn. it is disconcerting.

i take this responsibility seriously. i’ve been on jury duty twice before. the first time i was merely 18 and in new york, called for two weeks. the second time i lived where i live now – and i, likely, sat in this same room as i waited for the high sign about my duty. that time i was sent home the first day. this next time, i was one of about 40 who remained in the room…

…and so we waited.

eventually we were told that cases had settled and that there would be no jury trials, that we could go home. i admit to being relieved, for i had much on my plate that might have precluded me from being the best juror i could be. and i believe that one must be the best juror one can be. in every single case.

and so as i look at the most recent decisions of the highest court of the land – the jurists above all others, i am appalled. how are these decisions upholding the united states constitution? how are these decisions aligning with the touted compassionate nature of this country? the empathy gap is extraordinary; the rhetoric of this political polarizing is aggressive and downright cruel beyond imagination. how is this the best these supreme judges can be?

it is utterly shameful.

another waiting place.

i hope for a profound watershed moment. i hope for the sun to come back out – to find its way, to wipe away the sickening darkness that has fallen upon our country. i hope for people to actually be the best versions of themselves – to use good moral conscience, to have compassion, to care about their sisters and brothers in the country and in the world, regardless of any social identifiers. i hope for this despicable time in the history of this country to end, for our nation to honestly examine how it got here, for people to honestly examine how their hearts embraced this bigotry and extremism. i hope to eradicate all that is choking off our democracy’s true potential so that it can be the best it can be, so that we can be the best we can be.

*****

WATERSHED © 2004 kerri sherwood

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the pale blue dot. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it’s been 38 years since i’ve moved here. thirty-eight. it even takes me by surprise. when we moved here, the deal was “three to five and then we move on”. uh-huh.

but it’s where we bought this old house, where the children were born, where life was lived – good and bad, happy and sad – and time seemed to fly by. truly. and now it’s 38 years later.

in the time i’ve been here – this place where i was transplanted – i cannot remember weather that has been as ornery as this spring and summer.

yesterday, while trying to keep up with yet another tornado warning coming from the west, i was on jake’s weather page on facebook – a local and much-appreciated meteorologist. he was reporting on the progress of the storms heading in our direction, with his predictions about them.

i read the comments on his latest post and totally agreed with a few, particularly:

“good grief! not again!” and “i can’t believe these storms this year.”

exactly.

because climate change is real and our extreme weather is directly related to it.

because global warming is real and our extreme weather is directly related to it.

because ecology and green sustainability are real and dealing with our extreme weather is directly related to both.

because caring about our resources, our natural environment, our atmosphere, our forests and seas and aquifer and pollution control and this good earth is real and we should care about all of it, protect all of it, invest in all of it. our extreme weather – and the extreme weather around our state, our region, our country, the global world depends on us and what we choose to do.

the survival of this place we call home – whether it’s wisconsin or any other place on this planet – is dependent on us to make good choices.

there is no way around it, despite any twisted misinformation that the current administration wishes one to believe.

make good choices. time flies by.

our world becomes our childrens’ and then their childrens’. our home becomes theirs.

“preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.” (carl sagan)

*****

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