there is a dog biscuit on the floor in the laundry room in the basement. i was about to put laundry in the washer when i saw it. “hmmm…” i thought. “what is a dog biscuit doing down here?” i wondered. our courageous dog has never ever been in the basement. he dislikes stairs. he is an aussie and, well, if you know any aussies, you know that they have interesting….issues. one of his, apparently, is that he doesn’t do tight stairwells. so, knowing this, i am aware that dogdog did not bring a dog biscuit to the basement. (not to mention the fact that had he had a dog biscuit in his mouth he would have consumed it.)
so. the mystery. i can only assume that one of the mice we seem to have accommodated this winter carried this downstairs for a later snack. when i picture a mouse carrying a milkbone i’m amazed by its tenacity – it had to be under tremendous stress with its milkbone-burden. and…where did it get its milkbone from? we have a tray with dogdog’s “cookies” in the kitchen; i shudder to think of a mouse sitting there evaluating which cookie to steal. and…furthermore…there are no mouse…ummm….poopies (as i call them) anywhere nearby. what to think….
by looking at the tiny bites off of dogdog’s cookie in the basement, i think that mice will go to great lengths for a snack. i guess.
life below zero has captured our attention. sheesh. we are not ‘those people’ who have to follow shows, but we find ourselves searching the channel-changer for the national geographic show or… wait-for-it-this-is-no-surprise … this is us. (so i guess, in essence, we are ‘those people’.) anyway, that’s not my point.
when david drew this, i laughed aloud. it is truly funny to think about what animals dream (like our dogdog who runs in his sleep and babycat who snores up a storm) and if their dreams distort reality, just as ours do. in the morning, over steaming mugs of coffee, we often tell each other what we remember from our dreams. talk about distorted reality! i crack up thinking about what jessie holmes (the most avid -and very-sweet-to-his-dogs sled dog guy on the show) would do if he saw this cartoon.
the last little vestige of winter is in the air here (well, maybe.) as i write, there is snow in the forecast. even though we had this amazing hike-gift the other day in sunny 65 degree temperatures, truthfully, i don’t really mind that winter hasn’t ended; it is a time of fallow and that brings great anticipation for spring and newness.
when he was a kitten, i wanted to name our cat ‘jack’ but The Girl and The Boy objected. to me, he looked like a ‘jack’ in the way animals look like names, plus every ‘jack’ i could remember meeting had been a really nice guy.
and, in line with my nice-guy-jacks, this jack – the one with the ‘save the beanstalk’ picket sign – is a nice guy.
another case of little-guy-vs-big-guy, jack just wants to face his giant, save what is good, fight for that which he worked hard, keep what is his safe, preserve what is organic and part of the earth. i immediately think of the many marches across our country.
beach towels
speaking their minds, good people are making an effort to face their giants, save what is good, fight for that which they work hard, keep what is theirs safe, preserve what is organic and part of the earth.
i believe that good prevails over giants, in the long run. sometimes, the long run is waaaay long. but good prevails. and beanstalks grow and flourish.
ahhh. i don’t even know where to start on this one. what angle do i speak from? the fears inside us? the unknown? those who hold power over us? and how do i avoid the obvious? or do i walk right in?
the goliaths out there know who they are. they are puffed up and loud and full of you-can’t-get-me-ness, mean-spirited and self-righteous, self-centered and whatever is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum of compassionate. they are BIG and are convinced, even, that they are bigger than anything. they think nothing can touch them.
but it’s not true.
you don’t have to look too far to find the davids out there. the driven, dedicated, passionate, thinking, empathetic, big-hearted, others-centered people who commit themselves to causes and gather power around them. they are fearless.
nothing that is rotten at the core survives long. including goliath. even if he didn’t think it was possible. to those goliaths i say, “yes! be scared!”
interrupting is an art form on long island. i know this. i grew up there. and, apparently, i carried this forward. it took d a while (read: a few years and meeting crunch) to realize i was paying attention, that i wasn’t ignoring what he was saying when i interrupted…i just knew where he was going with it and jumped ahead. now, i do realize that sounds pretty rude. it’s not my intention to ever be rude, so i have tried, in recent times, to w.a.i.t. before i speak…at least a little bit longer. if you are nearby when jen and i talk, you will think we are interrupting each other, talking in a circular path and arriving back at the point; carol and i have, for decades, conversed in short snippets of interrupted tangents. regardless of our intent, no one wants to be asked to “pay attention!”
yet, we have all these ways, nowadays (using this word makes me sound old), to not pay attention. how many videos have you seen where people are walking in a mall (or somewhere) texting or reading on their cellphone and fall into a fountain (or some other obstacle.) we sit with others and try to hold a conversation, but they are busy on their phone or some device checking facebook or texts or twitter or the news…so many ways to not pay attention, so many distractions. we see the tragic effects of split focus while people are driving cars.
we are no longer just giving our attention to the moment. we are interrupting conversation, our work, the activity we are involved in, each other’s safety. we would be well-served to pay just-a-little-more attention.
sisu sue swore by them. turtlenecks. she has them in every color, every kind of weave and fabric. she looks fabulous in them and wears adorable chic jackets over them. she is one cool and trendy lady and i adore her.
having already started the hot-flasharama-period of my life when we were working together, i would ask her how she could stand having a turtleneck on; it was (and mostly still is) out of my realm of imagination being able to wear a turtleneck and not ripping it off in the middle of -say- the choir room or the train to chicago or in the car while driving. this oh-so-wise treasured woman told me that someday i would understand.
THAT DAY HAS COME.
i look in the mirror, a few steps of days away from 59, and stare at (you might want to stop reading now) my NECK. what has HAPPENED? suddenly, my neck (and chin, for that matter) have become O-L-D. where has the time gone? where did my old neck go? and where did that new chin-under-my-chin come from?
my sweet momma, at 93, looked at me one day and said, “i looked in the mirror and (in a horrified voice) i saw an OLD woman.” “momma,” i reassured her, “at 93, you are an old woman, but you are a BEAUTIFUL old woman.” personally, i thought my momma was striking. every last wrinkle told a story. every last thing she saw as a flaw. but my words fell on deaf ears. she just stared back at me. probably feeling much the same as me. delusionally thinking that time would stand still in our necks and chins and -yup- everywhere else. time and menopause take their toll.
the next time you see me try not to stare at my neck (although i have likely set you up for that.) i may or may not be wearing a turtleneck. the ironic part is that a real turtle’s neck really does look a lot like mine. sheesh.
i hardly know where to start. eye to eye. i to i. dang.
it’s easy to look at this and think of my own daily-life-eye-to-eye challenges. but – i can’t look at this cartoon and stay away from the political climate in our country. whether you prefer blue or red – or even purple – you have to admit, we are not in a state of blissful co-existing. we have moved in together and have drawn lines down the middle of the virtual apartment, down the middle of the ever-increasingly important issues, down the middle of integrity, down the middle of people’s hearts. and, with such strong big-thick-font-lines drawn, there seems to be no meeting ground, no where to go. the “eyes” of wisdom and for-the-good-of-all-people have disappeared and the “i’s” have shown up, stronger and bigger and more powerful than before; superman without clark kent’s goodness.
where DO we start? pstacey said the other day that we have to start in our own little corner of the world. i agree. how hard is it sometimes to see eye to eye/i to i in our own relationships, our own families? ptom’s words “acts of radical kindness = building community”. i agree. in the middle of our own concentric circles, we make a teeny movement of goodness and the ripple spreads out. there is no where else to start. without our grounding in the breath-space we each take up in the world, we can’t make any progress, we can’t ripple out.
perhaps we all could work on seeing eye to eye (er, i to i) if we made conscious and generous life-giving decisions with every choice-we-are-faced-with that take into account a weighing-in of how it might impact others. we don’t have to agree. but we have to respect each other in the process, try to walk in another’s shoes, see another perspective, see what someone else’s eyes see. see i to i.
yes! there are two different product lines – each easily accessible by clicking on the “eye to eye merchandise” link OR the “i to i merchandise” link above.
my name is kerri and i was a razor-flip-phone-holdout. it’s occurred to me that i might have been the last person who ever had one; i went from having my own brand-new-razor to The Girl’s hand-me-down-razor to my friend’s hand-me-down-razor to my friend’s daughter’s hand-me-down-razor….you get the picture. i would hold tightly the little screws keeping both halves of the flip together as they loosened and fought to cease and desist – just to not have to move on and decide on (read: learn) a new phone.
The Girl and The Boy generously gave me my first iphone for christmas a few years ago. it was an iphone 4 and it was groundbreaking. all my fears of smart-phoning disappeared and i became a part of the 21st century.
if it weren’t for texting, there are few conversations i would have with my children-who-live-far-away-and-are-too-busy-to-be-on-the-phone-with-mom (i knowww you can relate.) it was always remarkable to me how fast The Girl could text; i teased her with thoughts of entering her in national contests. she rolled her eyes. apparently, this is not an uncommon skill. i have to say, i flipped out the day, some time ago, that my iphone deleted my string of texts from The Boy. these text-strings are pieces of life.
i have graduated one iphone beyond the 4. skipping the 5 i now have a 6. well, technically, a 6s (there are varying opinions as to what the ‘s’ means.) it still amazes me the kind of connectivity with the world i can have with this little device, how truly smart it really is.
text me when you land makes me laugh. an absurdly funny cartoon, you have to admit, texting is alive and well in all places.
i just asked david if he would illustrate a children’s book i wrote a long, long (did i mention long?) time ago. naturally, he said yes, because, uhh, what else is he going to say? so maybe one of these days you’ll see my snowflake-is-as-raindrop-does story in book form. in the meanwhile, i’ll tell you the story…hopefully succinctly.
once upon a time (because all great stories start like that) there was a little raindrop. after it had fallen out of the sky with a gajillion other raindrops it had a choice. whether to drop-and-roll quickly down the street and be transported through evaporation back up into the sky to reform and do it all over again or – and yes, i am definitely personifying this raindrop – it could choose to roll over to a small plant or tree or blade of grass that needed sustenance. the raindrop believed (had been taught by others?) that this sacrifice would end its journey…there would be no more going-up-into-the-sky-coming-down-as-a-raindrop-all-over-again if it made this choice. but the little raindrop rolled over to a little flower anyway, curled up beside its stem and sighed. what it didn’t realize would happen was this – that it still evaporated. it still went back up into the sky. it still reformed. but this time it was chosen to reform into a beautiful, unique snowflake, an honor bestowed only on those raindrops who had made a difference, who had yielded to a different choice.
so you’re thinking, ok, what does this have to do with snowflakes and snowmen? well, we just never know how our choices will impact our possibility or how we might be surprised by something different than what we perceive to be our intended possibility. you have to admit, being a snowflake in a snowman with a scarf and goofy hat that makes people smile and children dance would seem way more satisfying than being a snowflake in a dirty pile of snow in a parking lot. we learn to go with the flow. sometimes the unanswered prayers -loss of the UNlimited possibilities- turn out to be the best.
every time the girl texts me and says “dude!” i laugh aloud. i have to say i prefer “mom” or “mommommommommom” to “dude” but i’m just happy to hear ANYthing at ANY time from the girl and the boy that ANY name goes. i’m guessing AllMomsEverywhere get that.
there is a sweet bistro in town called wine knot that we love to go to. our favorite spot is at the bar at the end in the corner, where we can people-watch or chat with andy or jeremy, awesome bartenders who, for the longest time, knew to order – wait for it – brian’s amazing meatloaf split and two glasses of merlot – the instant we walked in. there is something smalltownish and heartwarming to be said about this. kind of like one of the things we all loved about watching the show cheers with a cast of ted danson & shelley long, kirstie alley and woody harrelson, kelsey grammar and george wendt and other regulars who became a part of our living rooms and lives. given our new dietary restrictions (gluten free/dairy free -more whole30 compliant and feeling good!) we haven’t been to wine knot as much lately; we are cooking more with glasses of wine on our counter. but sometimes it is nice to just go and sit and visit on a stool in the corner.
this past saturday we were at the cedarburg winter fest, an annual trip for the up-north-gang, an unparalleled and beloved cast of characters. we walk around town, in and out of fun boutiques and shops, laughing at merch together. we watch the parade of firetrucks and snow plows and scurry to the frozen river to cheer for the bed races. it snowed a bit and was very “winter-festival-ish” (as dubbed by dan) this year, as opposed to last year when it was, oddly, almost 70 degrees and forced the bed races to be on the street. we – without fail – end our day together at the crowded pub the silver creek brewing company. dark beers, gluten free ciders, wine and kettle corn are our fare of choice. it’s a total blast. everyone talks at once; the topics are all over the place.
this flawed cartoon wednesday in the melange makes me laugh. the “duuuude”, the (oh-so-wisconsin) “cow-eyes” pun, the bovines at the bar. every opportunity to laugh. it’s a good thing. happy wednesday.
reverse threading 