Friday, December 31, 2021

A Sheep in Wolf''s Clothing

Not like this. This is a wolf in sheep's clothing. And believe it or not, it's from a front yard Christmas display in my neighborhood. It could well be some pop culture commentary that I am unaware of, but I think it's more likely political commentary. Some sheep are marked red. Others are blue. I mean, it's weird and kinda scary, right? Maybe also a little funny? Here's the whole thing.
The driver of the team of sheep is Planet of the Apes meets the Grinch. And the baby. I don't know what to say about the baby.
Anyhow, here's a happy thought. What if Omicron is a sheep in wolf's clothing.

Saturday, December 18, 2021

Comfort and joy to you

And how about some joy to the world while we're at it? Oh, wait. Yeah. Supply chain. Well, I have a Christmas tree inside and another one outside. I look at those lights a lot.
I settled on my New Year's resolutions today. 1) Be excedingly polite to everyone I encounter. 2) Walk every single day in January, no matter the temperature.
I will not follow this trail out onto Lake Harriet, but I am lucky to live in such a beautiful place with a lovely creek that leads to the lake, and I will walk, even if it's so cold I can only go a little ways. I actually love winter if I don't have to drive in it. And I've made up with my Yak Traks, which last year I thought didn't provide quite enough traction. Somehow I feel very secure in them now.
Hope you're feeling secure in some way, dear reader. I hope there's joy in your world and comfort too. Let your light shine.
Here's a poem I heard yesterday.

Wednesday, October 13, 2021

Breaking up with Mr. Zio

Mr. Zio is my heart monitor. We've been close these past two weeks, investigating all of the pings and rattles. Anxiety? Not anxiety? Who knows these days, right? But tomorrow, I peel him off my chest and send him packing in a box. Such wonders modern medicine provides! I'm a little fuzzy about what happens after that, but I'm sure there'll be some sort of report. How are you, dear reader? What's pinging and rattling in your life? I'm obsessed with making collages. No art background. Just pandemic online heart-saving classes. I'm mystified by the glues and finishes. I like my finished work to be smooth. I don't want wrinkles. I don't want shine. But I put together these masterpieces with all kinds of snippets, and some papers like one type of glue with other papers like another.
These two collages seem to me to be about luck. Luck feels like such a mover and a shaker to me these days. I'm planning a party--a missed major milestones party. I've ordered food and cakes (one cake for each of the four big occassions we've missed.) My son and his family are traveling from Phoenix. Hey, Southwest Airlines, I'm imploring you NOT to cancel that flight. Because 38 tacos. Because four cakes. Because I have not seen them for more than two years. I'm just so shocked every time I think or say that. More than two years. For god sake, dear pilots, I've already put the extra boards in the table.
Dear everyone, wishing you luck with your endeavors.

Tuesday, September 21, 2021

Thanks for the memories--and your martini recipe

It was my mom's birthday a few days ago. I had a martini and bought a lottery ticket--which is the way I celebrate now that she no longer enjoys these earthly delights.
It's an odd feeling to have both parents gone. Sometimes I feel like a pale balloon, disconnected from the people who landed me here.
A dear friend sent me this book,"Heartwood" by Barbara Becker. It arrived on my mom's birthday. I've just begun to read it. Here's what the author says about the title which comes from the name for the central core of a tree. "...this supporting pillar no longer participates in the life process of a tree--transporting and storing water and nutrients. Although dead, heartwood will not decay or lose its sturdiness while the outer, living rings of newer growth sustain it. In the perfect ecology of a tree, the dead become the heart of the living, and the living nourish the enduring essence of the dead."
So that's what I was doing with that martini--nourishing the enduring essence of the dead.
Every night as I settle into bed in my freshly painted room, I think of my dead loved ones. And how it is to love the dead. It's so different from how we love the living. To be able to touch. To be able to talk. These are the profound joys of the living.