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Category Archives: merely a thought monday


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a merry little christmas. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

and today – after last night’s eve – we’ll turn on music. we’ll light all the twinkling lights and maybe have breakfast in the living room by the trees. i’ll remember our walk last night – all around the ‘hood – admiring lights and decorations and christmas trees in front windows. i’ll smile thinking of us standing in my candlelit studio singing carols together – in lieu of a church service. and then, a few luminaria on the deck in temperatures unseasonably warm for a wisconsin december.

and sometime this morning we will open all the cards that have made their way to us. in the last years we have started saving them – waiting until christmas eve or christmas day to open the greetings from far and wide. it is like a visit from each family member or friend then as we sit – in no rush – and read cards and letters. we know that time is precious these days and that it takes some of that precious time to sit and write cards, to select gifts, to craft messages and mementos. we are so happy to be thought of, to have community near and far.

the shiny brites are on our big lighted branches in the living room. they, too, are like a visit – specifically from my parents. i had a blue day last week in the midst of preparations – a little shopping, a little shipping, a little planning. because in my mind this year i’ve spent a lot of time on my growing-up long island. with all that remembering, it’s brought me back to 1960s and earlier 1970s christmases – times of unfettered bliss – of being a child and then young teenager in the middle of a family creating simple christmas magic. it made me miss my sweet momma and poppo. our holiday was never anything really fancy – it was just about being together. my mom didn’t plan activities for us nor did she prepare mountains of food ahead of time, except for krumkake and spritz cookies. dinner was always a turkey and all the trimmings for christmas day. christmas eve…well…my solidly norwegian grandparents would drive their gigantic beige and brown was-it-a-buick out from brooklyn, laden with the christmas eve fish pudding and rum cake. and yes, that meal is really as eh as it sounds. fish pudding, boiled potatoes, cauliflower and a white sauce with crabmeat – it’s a monochromatic meal that would horrify any child’s taste buds in the midst of christmas eve’s glimmer. we’d all survive it though and the very-frostinged layered rum cake was the reward. we lounged around and sipped eggnog and sang christmas carols while i played the organ or piano in the living room and my brother played the guitar. and then, as it got darker we’d go outside to walk around the neighborhood in the candlelight of luminaria, still singing. hot cocoa later and off to the 11pm service to ring in christmas. simple. nothing grandiose. most of it was predictable. but it brought a sense of comfort in its familiarity, just like the shiny brites on the trees in our living room.

these last years have had a different rhythm. sans advent and christmas directing, time has burst open. for those decades of immersion in church preparations yielded little extra time – and, for most years with the chaos of those responsibilities, brats on the grill were christmas eve fare. it was only on christmas morning that it was possible to – finally – take a deep breath. it’s a different season now.

today we will go to our son’s home in chicago. we’re excited to spend christmas with him, bringing his gifts and ever-present stocking, sharing in the making of dinner. we will sooo miss our daughter, but we shipped her gifts and will facetime with her after her travels out west. the rest of our families all also live out of state, so we won’t be posting those wide-angle holiday photos with scads of people posed in front of the tree. but we hold each of them close.

and tonight, on our way home from downtown, we’ll take the backroads, as always. we’ll go slow in appreciation of the beauty of the route, the festive lights, magic lingering in the air. the waiting is over.

and we’ll nod our heads together, agreeing that simplicity has been the real gift. 

and we will have had a merry little christmas.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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

“but it’s the holidays!” you protest. and yes, it is.

yet – in these days, in this community, this country, this world – there’s more going on than simply jingling bells and twinkling lights, a sleigh of gifts and eight reindeer, manger scenes and menorahs. and even now – in the middle of all of this – even in the middle of festivities – we need to pay attention. 

it’s risky to disagree. it’s risky to push back. it’s risky to declare that which has or those whom have wronged you or others. the membrane is thick and unforgiving, even vindictive. it’s risky to break the code of silence.

but it’s necessary.

to speak the crime/the wrong/the slight – the action or inaction – is not a crime, though those within the bonds of the code would want you to believe that. it is either impossible for them to see the forest for the trees or it has come to the time that no longer matters to them. to step out, to speak out, to speak against, to speak for – all are looked upon as deviant when silence is broken. righteous pontificators rail against the sole “deviant” – the one who stops the actual deviance, the one who holds the actual deviants accountable. they gather troops around themselves, searching for – or convincing – others of their sanctimonious correctness. they are invigorated by the quest to maintain the code – no longer merely complicit – instead, enabling – involving themselves in the dirty deeds of the codemakers.  their silence is active, perpetuating the wrong. and the circle exacerbates itself – concentrically outward – into an organization, a community, a government, a country, a world. and it is ugly.

for those out there who are questioning and breaking the code of silence, for those who are pushing back against injustice or inequity, for those who are pulling back the curtain exposing, revealing wrongs – whether small or overwhelming, for those who are not fostering complicity or harboring or sustaining wrongfulness, for those who have reached the place of “enough!”, for those holding fast to the values of goodness, for those who are actively pursuing democratic freedoms of choice for all peoples – i hope this season of light would grant unto you courage and fortitude, empowerment in vulnerability, the ability to stand tall and proud, others to stand with you, trust in the process of bushwhacking your way to revealing truth, accountability in the end, recovery and peace. i hope this season of light reminds you of your value. i hope this season will touch you beyond your wildest imagination and that jingling bells and twinkling lights – and all the other trappings of this season – will dull in comparison to the light you have brought in your deviance – breaking the code of silence and bringing forth truth and justice. you are necessary.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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and then their theme songs. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“dogga, dogga, you’re the one.

dogga, dogga, so much fun.

dogga, dogga, in the sun.

dogga, dogga, number one!”

he loves his theme song. it has a specific melody, but can be sung to many different tunes, in many different styles. what he knows is that it is his.

i suppose that theme songs go beyond the scope of exaggerated prosody – those patterns of rhythm, intonation and stress of the voice you use – most like that of talking to infants – with which dogs so easily identify. i’m not sure how it’s so easy to revert to this higher-pitched baby-talk but it gets his attention and seems to maintain it. there have been studies…whether dogs’ neural sensitivity is attuned more to this higher modulated speech pattern – a pattern that is directed to a listener with limited linguistic competence. as the more longer-vowel-sound-higher-pitched-sing-song speaker in the house, i’d say it’s true.

dogga responds to sooo many words and it does seem obvious: he is more sensitive to dog and/or infant type directed speech than if we were to just speak to him in adult-directed voices. his wagawag starts up as soon as he hears our “e.p.”, er, babytalk. i would guess he might roll his eyes and yawn were we to start holding adult conversation with him, particularly on topics of conversation during which he has retreated to the bathroom for escape. though i have had many a chat with him – he’s a good listener – he has not had the same level of response as he does with the prosody of adoring dogmom. “sleepyniiightniiight”, “loooooveyou”, “withmahhhhmma”….

“babycat. you are the cutest little babycat. you are the cutest little babycat, babycat, wah wah wah wah wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah…” (babycat)

“i’m a chopper-whopper-dinkus-baby and you are not; chopper-whopper, dinkus-bayyybee…” (chopper)

“hughie-hughie-hughie-huuwEEeeEE. hughie-hughie-hughie-huuwAHahAHH…” (hughie)

“i was smurfling along…” (missi)

yes, yes. the theme songs go way back – decades. and i suppose so does the tone of voice. in a world that can be pretty harsh, there can’t be much wrong with a little exaggerated prosody here and there.

certainly, there is no limit to it when it comes to our beloved pets. so much unconditional love.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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tiny snowflake. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it was as we were hiking that the snow started again. it had already laid down a couple inches and the wind was a bit blustery. and then…

they drifted down around us – as if we were in the middle of a snowglobe and someone had given it a gentle shake. we watched them – individually falling – cold enough to see them land without melting.

most of the time, in landing, they are more en masse – like toddlers playing soccer – a beehive of tinies running after a ball – snowflakes swirling together landing, tumbling, piles of tiny colliding flakes sticking together.

but as i watched, cellphone in hand, this one snowflake – all by itself – landed on this leaf. and the leaf, cold enough to keep the flake intact, held the magic so that i could see it. exquisite doesn’t begin to capture it. sometimes adjectives are so incomplete – superlatives even anemic.

this time, the tiny snowflake held its ground, its unsung miracle-ness distinct against the leaf. i was startled to see it as we stood in the falling snow. i was – also – ridiculously thrilled.

its oneness – this singular the-only-one-there-is snowflake – quiet individuality. its presence – without trumpets blaring or the dinging of any notification – silently suddenly here. its tiny-ness – in this vast world – the same as us. a gift.

we are snowflakes falling. it is up to us to choose how. with or without fanfare, conforming or not, with or without humility, a gift or not.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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taproots and light. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

the des plaines river trail is in several sections. there’s a section that circles round a lake. there’s a section that loops through the forest. and there are sections that run next to the river. in order to control invasive species and to maintain resources, the state of illinois has controlled burns each spring and fall. oaks and hickories have thick bark to shield them and native plant species have deep taproot systems to survive the intense heat. in fact, this carefully maintained ecosystem often contributes to more robust plants after the burn.

we came upon the remains. we hadn’t been on the loop in days and were surprised to see the blackened earth, stalks of char. when the snow fell, it became a landscape – seemingly – of black and white. yet the squirrels ran rampant and we couldn’t feel any stress from the underbrush – like when there is an unexpected fire and the land is scorched.

i knelt down in front of the charred cattails and started to photograph them.

and suddenly there were tears in my eyes. i could feel the fire and the scorched-ness, the cooling snow blanketing it all, the energy still there – underground. i could feel the tenacity of these stalks and twigs, having survived the storm of the planned fire, ready for rejuvenation, resurgence. scrappy and resilient, potent, sturdy – the light past the dark. the recovery post-fire, post-exploration, a renewal. i could feel their passage through it.

i held hands with the cattails as i knelt on the snowy ground. braced, the taproot within – infinite – held fast, reassured me.

and with them i peered into the dark and saw that the light was right there, just beyond the charred edges.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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dizzying taste. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was dizzying.

the flock of cranes were above – heading south – their bugling loud in a blue day still of rushing wind. we stopped on the trail and looked up, expecting to see one or maybe two sandhill cranes flying by, from one meadow to the next. instead, there were two distinct v’s – in the ancient pull of migration.

we stood there – still – watching…until craning our necks for the cranes was too much. i lowered my gaze and felt the earth tilt a bit in the headrush of returning to terra firma. a gorgeous sight – in my eyes and ears.

it is delicious – that sky. it is magnificent – that sky. in the day and in the night. i have been astounded and humbled. i have counted the stars and imagined the clouds. i have been soaked by its rainstorms and reveled in its snowflakes. i am fortunate to have felt the sun and the moon.

i have stood under that sky and i have realized that it is – yes – the same sky that the others i love are also under, despite any distance between us. in my mind i migrate to each – seeking the intuitive connection to their places in the world.

in tasting the sky all is possible. and, in my looking up, i feel grace and hope dizzying down on me.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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the i-withs. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

we passed the bench in the park. i couldn’t read the rest; it’s possible that the spraypaint was -somewhat- erased for a reason. nevertheless, what remained: i with.

in these days fraught with division, they were words of prompt, words that made me think, words that made me wince. because they hold in the air other words: i against.

it seems somewhat closed to just ponder the “i-withs” when one can see the “i-againsts” just as clearly. and, in this polarizing world, it’s generally the i-againsts that carry a charge. we read the news, we watch the world teeter and it becomes alarmingly clear how against we are against the againsts. our blood boils watching the mockery of governing; our hearts break watching the taking of lives in violent disagreement. we shudder at inequity; we are disgusted with closemindedness. we grit our teeth – nauseated – as we watch progress regress. close-in and further out, we are capable of listing our i-againsts.

and we are also capable of listing our i-withs. the place we stand – holding humanity, peace, fairness, equity, kindness, generosity. the tenets we stand with, the people who – actually – hold to those tenets. we ferret out those who pontificate, those who are righteous, those who are sanctimonious. instead, we clear the spaces next to us for the transparently authentic, who really do stand in the intention of goodness, who really do walk with us. the i-withs.

and we have gratitude for the i-withs. for we know, we are capable of days on this good earth because of our i-withs. we have gratitude for the i-withs for we know we could not be without them. we have gratitude for the i-withs and, in our mind, we spraypaint our list on the park bench.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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tomato-tomahto. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

well enough = fine.

these two equate for me.

well enough – is not quiiiite there. well enough – is under the bar. well enough – is status quo. well enough – is not really trying. well enough – saves time. well enough – is not holding life as a tiny flame in all the universe.

fine – is not quiiiite there. fine – is under the bar. fine – is status quo. fine – is not really trying. fine – saves time. fine – is not holding life as a tiny flame in all the universe.

i suppose there are many who really love leaving well enough alone. it doesn’t push any limits. it doesn’t poke at false bars. it doesn’t question. it doesn’t hold accountability as a north star. it doesn’t sort and ponder and ruminate. its tolerance is dubious. it’s easier.

and then, there are the other tomatoes.

those are the tomatoes in the bunch that won’t suffer well-enough. these tomatoes poke and prod. these tomatoes ask questions, research, study, extrapolate, piece together something better. these tomatoes make other tomatoes crabby.

but that’s all fine in the end.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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nada yada yada. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought-monday]

he was waiting on the trail for us. the eastern tiger salamander, poised, ready. we’ve never seen one – in all our hiking. so this was extraordinary and this little guy was trusting as we picked him up and moved him to the brush on the side of the trail, an effort to keep him from being hurt by fat-tire bikers passing by.

it’s the 300th week of our melange. we’ve been up and running these blogs-with-images for 300 weeks straight, sans interruption. some of that period of time it was five days a week; since may 2021, with the addition of our smack-dab cartoon, it has been six days a week. there is an imperative for us; writing begets more writing.

we sort the stories of our lives – threading back – and find clues and reasons and validations. we sort the stories of our lives – in the here and now – and find questions and individual moments – specific themes and thoughts. we sort the stories of our lives – moving forward – and see the utterly undeniable need to be present, to notice beauty, to go slow, to appreciate.

silly stories, divulging stories, grief stories, stories of wistful, ordinary stories, stories of pensive thought or roiled-up rant, stories of the essence of gossamer threads, we share with you – our dear readers – our lives. it is – truly – the yada yada yada of life.

we came upon him on a sunny and clear day, in a bit of shade on the trail. though a nocturnal creature and usually in an underground burrow or under a log in the daytime, this salamander was just there, waiting for us. as is our way, we talked to him for a bit. he didn’t answer any of our questions about why he was there, if he was ok, where he was headed. he didn’t seem to be moved by our telling him it was the first time we had ever – in all our time hiking in the area – seen an amphibian such as him. nor did he seem to care that we thought he was “a cute little guy”.

it might have been just too many spoken words – or he may already read our daily blogs – because as we carefully picked him up and moved him, hoping to save him from harm, he eyed us and squeaked out, “nada yada yada.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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joan’s tomato soup. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

and this week will drop down into the 20s and 30s. i suppose it is time to turn on the heat.

it’s also time for us to start breaking out all our favorite recipes for soups and stews, slow cooker or stockpot or tagine meals. time to try some new ones.

we’ve made joan’s tomato soup several times now. we make special trips to tenuta’s, an italian grocery in town for specific tomatoes. simple, healthy ingredients, it is nourishing and wildly comforting. with a baguette on the side – or a grilled wisconsin-5-year-cheddar cheese sandwich – it speaks to the need for reassurance and warmth.

we were in costco when we stumbled upon san marzano tomatoes – in a 106 ounce can. such a deal – a third of the cost had we bought 28 ounce cans – we didn’t pass it up. instead, we will make a giant vat of tomato soup, sharing some with 20 and freezing some – sans the fresh basil. since this week will really drop in temperature, i’ll put it on the calendar.

we are starting to pull out warmer vests, more clothes, our 32 degree baselayers, socks and – drumroll – our favorite furry boots. i can’t quite wear the furry boots until the first of november merely two days away, but all the other layers already apply. we are solidly in fall. the weather app doesn’t show any temp above 45, save for three days – anomalies – in the 50s. and we’ll see if those stick.

i suppose it’s time to put away the jean shorts and the capris, the tank tops and the flipflops. it’s time to pull out the 180° earmuffs and david’s favorite hat and have gloves at-the-ready. there’s no going back.

i guess maybe i’ll put on the flannel sheets.

and maybe i’ll switch on the heat. we’ll see.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

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