Sunday, December 31, 2017


* Catamount Hills cheese with bread and butter chips. Oh my!

rise, Fair Isle, books, good

* To rise just as the light begins to filter in through the blinds on the last Sunday of the year. To discover my room mate already shoveling snow. When I join him the sounds of our swipes reverberate. Are we waking the neighbors? The snow properly tidied, off he goes to gather grub while I drive through the magic of freshly fallen snow to a warm coffee house. I am alone by the window deciphering the NYT puzzle--until red nosed people begin to filter in and it is back to home where the aroma of his breakfast fills the air.

* May your New Year be like Fair Isle patterns:dynamic, bursting with color, full of details yet harmoniously flowing from one to another with ease.

*"I don't believe in the 'best of' books. It creates a hierarchy, and books are not hierarchy, books are medicine. We read what we need to heal us."

* "You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."

Saturday, December 30, 2017





chicken, still, tarps, paper

* Strolling past the roasting chicken display at the market. Oh! To climb into it, to live in it for the winter. I content myself with standing in front of it, basking in the aroma and the radiating heat.

* "Jesus has not been in Whole Foods" meanders through my mind as I pass the display of still water.

* To market, to market to buy tarps....shall I dash into the smelly, dark, guaranteed to be depressing big box store or.......the hardware store. No real quandary. The hardware store wins in a breath. I spend satisfying quarter hours browsing through things I do not need but that fascinate me. Much time elapsed, I walk out with the tarps and paint chips.

* Choosing Christmas wrapping paper to line drawers and looking forward to opening the drawers in the summer heat.

Friday, December 29, 2017

cough, knit, wind

* Doxycycline Hyclate Tablets (for her kennel cough)

* Knitting in bed

* A fresh west wind blowing

Tuesday, December 26, 2017

secret, strings

* I have secretly nurtured within me ideas, opinions, beliefs, visions, views for 45 years. They bubble out of me now with great joy. What time will I have for the bubbles? In quiet places I wonder. And I realize that any length of time is time.

* the violin,
   the fiddle

life, cold, perfunctory, Eileen

* "The urgency of life when it is being lived so close to death."
             Anthony Minghella speaking about Cold Mountain

* The cathedral height lobby is frigid. 
   "6 degrees outside," comments a lady with no hair.
   (How does she bear not hair without wearing a hat? I always wear a hat now.)
   I leave my coat, everything, on as I travel in stages to the exam  room:reception, weigh in room, corridor, nurses' station. In each stage of travel the temperature rises until at last the atmosphere is 
   pleasant when I get bearable for the exam.

* "perfunctory solution with a gun"

* Eileen Atkins

Monday, December 25, 2017

jolly, move, earrings

* It is really jolly to go into a coffee shop where everybody knows your name. (Even if the name you told them is an alias.)

* I have recently considered moving--but my current neighbors are so fascinating and vigorous that I have decided to stay around to observe what they will do next. 

* Pearl earrings that dangle.

alto, home, before

* Somewhere in time my voice became alto. Noticed at candlelit service tonight.

* Home to watch men roasting hunks of meat (a whole pig) over a roaring fire while women sing fado.

* Talking with women before the service.

Saturday, December 23, 2017

wind, lines, curves

* Wind sockets horizontal in the blizzard.

* The austerity, the clean lines of a desert.

* Fonts.

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

sweet, stay, yarn

* On the day before the blizzard and cold front I open the windows and doors to let in the sweet, sweet air. I hang my quilts and comforter on the line to sway in the breeze and bask in the sunshine.

* The dogs will not stay outside alone although I explain about the snow and cold coming soon so I must stay out with them for awhile (such a sacrifice!).

* A raid of the yarn shop, the result of worry that I will not have enough yarn if I get snowed in. HA!


When God calls me home
And my soul is laid to rest
That won't mean I'm gone
Darling, heaven knows
I'll love you just the same
So, don't you feel alone
You may cry a tear or two and that's okay
Just know I'll never be too far away.

I'll be sleeping in the stars
Shining through the dark
Watching, smiling, singing out into silence
Everywhere you are I'll be sleeping in the stars.

Some steps that we take
Leave an everlasting mark
Even death can't take away
So, if you're missing me
Just look inside your heart
And let the memories play.

You may cry a tear or two and that's okay
Look up and know I'm not that far away.

I'll be sleeping in the stars
Shining through the dark
Watching, smiling, singing out in the silence
Everywhere you are I'll be sleeping in the stars.

Jaida Dreyer, Mark Irwin, Gareth Dunlop

Friday, December 15, 2017

Airport, nose

* Totally surreal day. Early to the airport. Wait in an uncomfortable chair for 7 hours until the airline cancels the flight to sunshine and sand. What to do, what to do? My thought= how can I salvage this day planned to introduce someone to palm trees? We sink into soft chair at the oasis of Jamba Juice. Hop onto the shuttle . Home in an hour and a half. The gem was people watching, seeing their reactions to the cancellation, realizing a cancelled flight is not the end of the world, observing the puppies in transit. I am thinking of riding the shuttle to the airport next week to hang out a while.

* A tiny humidifier, easy to manage and my nose moves air around easier.

Wednesday, December 13, 2017


* I have not noticed any thoughts about 2018 year names on the blogs I read yet--perhaps Christmas planning  dominates the thoughts of people at this time. Looking back to February, 2017, I gave my year the hope and goal of 'Enough (already!)'. I am toying with the name for 2018 and keep landing on the word someone said to Dr Zhivago amidst the turmoil of revolution:'Adapt'.

* 'Enough' proved to be a perfect word using the definitions adequate and sufficient number, quantity, or amount. Like 'no more', 'we've had all we can take' with a little bit of 'we have everything we need to be content'. 

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

lights, discover, card

* I do not celebrate Christmas. Charmingly, magically every year at this time I am amazed and awestruck by lights, twinkly lights, on cold, dark nights.

* "It is possible at any age to discover a lifelong desire you never knew you had."

* My first Christmas card of 2017.

Sunday, December 10, 2017

sunset, sat, nuts

* Having been a grumble bunny all day I flop onto the sofa, continuing to grumble wretchedly. When the dog uses my stomach to catapult onto the back of the sofa my head jerks towards framed paintings on the wall and I catch the sunset's reflection. The sunset's gorgeous brilliancy. I glance toward the lace curtained window just beyond the rosemary plant's silhouette. Looking out the window later I can see the section of the garden once full of prickly, hurtful thistles now weeded and clean after today's work. 

* The last episode of a series satisfyingly executed.

* I have heard people mention 'It's a Wonderful Life' and the movie about the boy's gun as their favorite Christmas movie......My very favorite and the movie I return to all year 'round is 'Mixed Nuts'. When Steve Martin yells that his problem is a "weeny, woony one".......When Steve and Liev dance together, oh my! Adam and his uke...Madeleine stuck in the elevator.....

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

m'gram, WIP's, fierce

* I am awash in a sea of pink (never my favorite color). 

* I giggle realizing how many photos of WIP's I see displayed by people in their pajamas.

* A day of fierce, cold wind=lovely.

Tuesday, December 5, 2017


* Old well used well worn suitcases.

* Baskets.

* Cross body well used bags

* Satchels

Friday, December 1, 2017

Tony!, promise, ikons

* Oh!! Tony Shalhoub. Kiss. Kiss. "The Marvelous Mrs Maisel"

* When hollow with lack of sleep  I promise myself a return to bed after fulfilling appointments (this morning a blood draw). Just the promise catapults me out of bed. Just the glowing hope of returning to the coziness of a warm dog filled bed gets me to the place I need to be. Oddly, I hardly ever return to bed after the appointment. Other tasks get tidily checked off--well, I am in this side of town so I will do this and this and this until all the boxes are filled and I realize darkness is coming.

* I carry with me always little ikons from Greece in a Hawaiian pouch.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

escape, bacon, home, write

* I escape overnight to another town for my first Christmas party this year. Lovely! (Another one on Saturday)

* At breakfast I have bacon, thick long bacon, for the first time in months.

* And then home in the early morning. Home to furry dogs and touching base, catching up, with my room mate.

* "You don't put yourself in what you write. You find yourself there."

Tuesday, November 28, 2017


* Cogitating, as R and I so often did----how do we consider a person who creates aesthetically pleasing stuff but is a total s**t in personal life? Kicks dogs. Cheats on people. You know what I am writing about. 
This conundrum particularly came into our life when a man in our town who creates award winning books and is lauded by many shook and screamed at my 9 year old son at a party. End of my relationship with that author!  R persevered, even collaborating with the man.
And then there is a woman who screamed like a banshee (melting the telephone cord if I had one) at me the last time we (actually only she) spoke. I appreciated her networking ideas but come on.
This particular question is much in the news now.Do we compartmentalize? Do we cross them off our Christmas card list? Do we limit contact? Do we continue to pay $ to see, read, listen to their creations? Do we consider on individual cases?
Ah, well. This is not a gem except that it illustrates that I am still thinking, considering, being. 
And then Sam Shepard comes back to me: "Outfly them. Avoid situations that are going to take pieces of you. And hide out."

Sunday, November 26, 2017

measure, acorn

* I swear (frequently) if I had stacks of measuring (feet and inches) devices in every corner of this house I would not be able to find one when I need it. A woman who knits and moves furniture a bunch needs measuring devices always.

* I am knitting a sweater with interesting stitches and marvelous yarn the color of the inside of an acorn squash. What joy!

S. Claus, piles, fingernails, Tatlock, giggle

* What kind of moisturizer does Santa Claus use?
   Jojoba oil.

* I live from pile to pile: dirty clothes (high enough so the dog will not chew them), clean clothes (moved from chair to bed when I optimistically plan to sort them and put them away)(and most often moved back to chair so that I can sleep). I am perfectly great with this routine.

* Oh, Mother. If you could see my fingernails now. When I was young, even after marriage, you constantly bemoaned my gnawed off nails. See them now.? I have to trim them in order to use a keyboard!

* My thoughts slip back to my high school geometry teacher who told my father that I would never amount to anything. My father passed that bit of wicked analysis on to me. (Why? Who knows. To inspire me to work harder?) I am still at this advanced age flummoxed. Floored. To serve that kind of anathema  on a 15 year old is......the word escapes me. And so Mr Tatlock, Mr Ken Tatlock.....I say to hell with you.

* I inwardly giggle at the two women beside me at the cafe who are upset that I can hear their words. Sweetie pies, if you do not want to be overheard do not talk like that. 

Saturday, November 25, 2017


* I requisition the sofa. The black dog is unfazed, perching in his usual indentation at the top of the back. He arranges himself so as to see through the peek of his eyes just what I am up to on this warmish November afternoon. The sofa I usually leave to them, its human use consisting of a "how was your day" moment when my room mate comes from work. 
   The floor lamp on in obeyance of my dead father's warning of blindness caused by reading in the dark. Forget that the sun streams through the door and windows heartily. Admonitions ingrained while young echo through eternity. 
   I am pretzeled on this love seat reading on a November afternoon. I deliciously brought home a heavy bag of books, ate tomato soup, tried the sunny deck, sneezed, and now it is the sofa for me. I have discovered Alan Bennett's writings. 
   The book hits my nose.
   Later I wake to the large eyed staring of the yellow dog. 
   Must be up.

movie & songs

* "The Big Sick"

* "Sleeping in the Stars"

* "Speak to a Girl"

Friday, November 24, 2017

in the next weeks

* I have blood tests, pokings and a m'gram scheduled in the next weeks. I prod myself to investigate how I 'feel' about it all--something like analyzing a wound to determine its regeneration and pain. I imagine myself a kitten just fallen off the sofa for the first time="Hmmm. That was not too bad. I lived through that." Shake, shake. "Now I know what that is like and I lived through it and thrived." I lived through it all alone once and I will be okay this time if the numbers and shadings and bumps are not optimistic.

Sam, avoid, THE GIFT

* As Shepard told it, he watched as a crow continually dove at the hawk in an effort to drive it nuts. Eventually the hawk escaped his tormentor by flying higher than the crow would. 
    "Outfly them," Shepard said. "Avoid situations that are going to take pieces of you. And hide out."

Santa Fe New Mexican

* The glorious circumstance of being in the position of being able to sort people and situations for the ultimate loveliness of avoiding them.

* Every morning I stretch and contemplate with great gratitude THE GIFT.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

jewel, cards, hats

* Forget that Jack could have stayed on the door with Rose--why the bluidy 'ell did Rose dump the jewel in the drink?

* Jolly Christmas cards come.

* Hats.

* The lady (English) at the dog food counter notices my poppy pin which I wear year round on my vest. We have a lovely chat about the tradition with me returning to the store to mention the field of ceramic poppies that surrounded the Tower of London a couple of years ago.

Monday, November 20, 2017

they say

* "To forgive is to assume a larger identity than the person who was first hurt."

* "The truth is, rarely can a response make something better--what makes something better is connection."

* Something new written in the ashes of your life.

* We are each a river with a particular abiding character, but we show radically different aspects of our self according to the territory through which we travel.

* bureaucracy=the supreme institutionalization of helplessness

Sunday, November 19, 2017

wrap, dream, imagine

* Tingly glad that neck wraps (cowls, scarves, etc. not nooses)are "in". Never been "in". My neck without a wrap is always cold. Now I am "in".

* I wake from a warm happy dream, cocooned in comforters. The happiness lasts all day.

* I imagine whispering to someone who has shrieked like a banshee at me. Up close, in her ear. So that no one but us can hear and know what I think of her. What I want her to do with a certain part of her anatomy. I know I will never do this but it helps to imagine doing it. Hopeless I know because she will never understand how she hurts people.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017


* Lisette Lecat reads me to sleep. The House of Unexpected Sisters. Mma Ramotswe. JLB Matekoni. Mma Makutsi. Mma Potokwane. Mr Polopetsi. Phuti Radiphuti.

Monday, November 13, 2017


* Warm enough for deck sitting. Dogs cavort. Sunlight glistens and sparkles on the remaining leaves of the red twig willow. The solar bird bath whirs. Worries of weeds evaporate with a leaves covering. I pull my pajamas up to my knees. I leave my hooded sweatshirt on and over my head. Such joy!

Sunday, November 12, 2017

plan, life, gunk, back

* Slowly a plan begins to glow within me.....

* "Do not give up on the robustness of life."

* For me, fevers burn away the extraneous gunk.

* "Go back to where/when you knew who you are."

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Kilt, under, dark, deer

* The swingy, swayey, perky movement of a kilt.

* I hear of the outrage from harassment but there is a certain harassment in looking under a kilt to investigate underwear wearing, too.

* In the wee hours, in the dark, B. Franklinless, I read the toilet paper packaging, "40% more sh*ts." Then in daylight I realize it is 'sheets'.

* Graceful deer flowing over a fence. A tall fence. Is there a deer Olympics?

happen, ears, rhythm

* "Let everything happen to you:beauty and terror"

* My mother had a "you will get better or die" attitude about illness. Doctors exclaim when they see my eardrums (scarring). No trip to the ER when I fell out of a window while sock skating  on the newly waxed floor of my brother's bedroom (I am thinking she did not even know about the ER). Drying the inside of my ears (with the hair dryer) before leaving the house this morning I remembered the way she would warm up her hand for me to sleep on it when my ear hurt.

* I bought a drum. I bought a tambourine. Room mate has the overnight shift. Walls, prepare to vibrate.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

van gogh, laughing, dusk, point

* A grasshopper has been found imbedded in a van Gogh painting. An in the moment painting.

* Laughing made us invincible.
   Not like those who always win,
   but like those who don't give up.
   F. Kahlo

* "Life will take care of itself.
    Just continue to love, be happy, and stay open."

* The dusk closes into dark. I switch the lamps on and cover up in knitted       garments. Bring out the yarn and knitting porn. 

* On the last days home he said there was nothing of this house that was his 
   any longer. He had been away so many days of that year that I had begun 
   putting things where they accommodated me, hanging pleasing things in 
   eyesight, stocking the fridge with foods I like. It was a 'friction point' time
   with one foot in caretaker days still and the other in independence. His 
   independence from pain and mine from watching him writhe in pain. 

server, chai, silent

* "Your server is changing."
   Into a butterfly? Menopause? Her mind? 

* Biscotti
   Sluiced into hot chai
   OH MY!!
   (Just realized I wrote about chai & biscotti in Sept. Note to self:must cultivate new yummies.)

* When all the world is silent I tromp out to vanquish the snow.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017


* "Mary, Stacy will be late today. Her mule jumped the fence. It's the one that doesn't like to be touched."

Friday, November 3, 2017

nothing, c de m, berries

* Waking up with the knowledge this day holds no appointments, worries, 'I have to smile' minutes, nothing.And that I have complete control over my universe.

* How many women recently have tasted creme de menthe over vanilla ice cream a la a writer at 'Outlander'?

* Red berries in a clear glass vase.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

trauma, yarn, life

* Sleepy, at the end of the day, I heard "Masterpiece has the ability to bring great trauma to life."

* Beginning a project with luscious blue yarn.

* Decided to give up trying to keep up with the decisions for the  professional life of someone.

Wednesday, October 25, 2017


* home

Monday, October 23, 2017

points, sleep, flight

* I am flummoxed. (don't know what it means but always liked the sound of it) I am semi packed to leave a dog sitting job and only just now realized that for a week I have had my cardinal points mixed. Last night I was fumbling with my phone and found the compass. South is not where I thought it was. All the palm trees have misled me. Couldn't see the sunset properly.

* Why are dogs like children? They drag (yes, literally) you out of bed at a godly hour, demand nutrition.....then wump  back to sleep. Can I return to sleep? Hades no. The garbage I have not put in the bin for a week thumps me in the nose while my guilt at eating the cupboard bare squashes my brain.

* So, another flight tomorrow. Another struggle for luggage at the carousel, another marathon to the shuttle. Moving on, moving on, moving on.

Friday, October 20, 2017

alleys, aerie, drink

* I pine for alleys. I miss alleys. I grew up with an alley. An alley to short cut through. To burn trash in (a perfect way to learn about fire--how to start, control, put out,effects of wind on). To view the other sides of people's lives. (Riding a train is another way to do that.) I am viewing an alley right now at the apt where I am dog sitting. (Always thought that was weird "Sitting on a dog") I am high up and looking straight down a paved (fancy!) alley with brick and adobe fences which come right up to the alley's sides. I would have to bounce like a ball to see over them and into backyards. This part of town has utility poles with lines crisscrossing the alley.

* Not many distractions in my dog sitting aerie (sp? 'High up nest'). No radio, tv, internet sketchy. Wallowing in books and knitting and watching a huge dog sleep in my favorite chair. The boys' school plays taps at 9 every night and bells of the church chime hourly.

* I walked to the local farmers' mkt yesterday. Had a cold icy mint-cucumber-lime drink. Found the NYT.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

consume, plane, plane

* "Consume before January 2018" ha, ha!

* A younger than I thin man sits beside me on the plane wearing a hassock? Cossack? Oh, yes....a cassock. He begins praying before we taxi from the gate and continues over 2 states. "Then decided there was no point."

* The magicness of descending down through the clouds. There is land below, right?

Thursday, October 12, 2017

upheaval, tree, hair

* I have such intestinal upheaval when anticipating a trip. And during a trip. And for a brief time when I come home from a trip. Then it, the upheaval, retreats and I am relieved that I went. This is the case no matter how far or long the trip, grocery runs included. Been happening forever. So at last now when I am hurtling (not the stomach contents) down the 5 at 6 I know I will live. And I will be glad I went, travelled.

* My neighbor is admiringly organized. His maple tree drops its leaves all in one day. He mows them up the next.

* I have found at the beginning of my umth decade my perfect person of hair cutting.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

intent, taps, fireworks, awe

* I am intent upon reading in the sunshine then suddenly there are 50 young boys chanting at the top of their lungs. All levels of deep voices.

* Taps at bedtime.

* The fireworks at Disneyland always surprise me, heard from a distance.

* In awe of a son who figures out intricate math and geometry mixed in with customer interaction.

pie, aging, dancing, stop, crack

* Dinner with the nuns. Punkin pie oh my!

* I don't believe in aging..I believe in forever altering one's aspect to the sun. V Woolf

* Dancing on the edge is the only place to be.

* When someone yells "STOP", I don't know if it's in the name of love, it's hammer time or if I should collaborate and listen.

* There's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. L Cohen

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

post, pelican, fishing

* "The border post was like a dreary English bus station, plus, machine guns."
    Antonia Fraser

* I would like to come back as a pelican so I could carry books, pen, paper, photo ID, my throat.

* A person fishing pauses with line still in the water to nibble an ear of corn.

Monday, October 2, 2017

vaccy, soda, sand

* So...I am on a vaccy. (The speller thing thought I meant "vacuum".) A grubby one on which my glasses have an eternal film of grit and grease, I do not know when I next will eat or drink, my body muscles keep screaming "you have got to be kidding", and who knows when or where I will sleep or pit stop. It is good. And I love the person I am staying with.

* Trying to figure out when and how I can slip away to find a soda to drink in secret.

* Sand in my cuffs. Sand in my yarn. Sand in my eyes.

Friday, September 29, 2017

habits, ice, peanuts

* He always marveled, exclaimed, that I can do without something--coffee, cigars, ice cream. That I had no habits that were not able to be broken. I am slowly breaking the habit of him.

* A thin sheet of ice on the windshield in the morning if I forget to put the car away.

* Freshly ground peanut butter, eaten alone with a spoon.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

okay, flying

* If we see each other do not ask me how I am because I am okay unless you ask me how I am.

* Whenever  I fly, which is not often these days, I remember the time I flew with my father across 3 time zones. I was taking him to a new home. He had dementia. And Parkinson's. His legs pained him and the remedy was for him to walk up and down the aisle, tottering along. That was okay on the big, stable, plane but the small one buffeted around so much that on one pass of our seats he said in a voice loud enough to pierce the engine (yes, I think it was a singular engine!) roar, "Hell, Girl! Who's flying this plane?" In his walking he was very much like one of those wind up toys that strike out into the world after having been wound up. It took much diplomacy to get him to sit down so the pilot could land. The pilot was kind--he patiently circled the landing strip how many times before my father finally squeezed into his seat. I miss him so much....

shed, garage, Tonga

* I find a post of March written in happiness because I found a shed which was also a hot house. I remember that day. A bright jewel .

* So happy to be able to pull the car into the garage. Wallowing in anticipation of an ice free windshield.

* The person working on the sidewalk is from Tonga.

Monday, September 25, 2017

book, potatoes, game

* He says he will write me into his book--as the next door neighbor. I list my characteristics for him then giggle because he knows me well enough.

* "I think there's a dead mouse behind stuff in the kitchen."
   "Could be potatoes."
   "Dying potatoes do smell."
   "It was potatoes."
   "Potatoes are moisture triggered."

* "She remembered who she was and the game changed."

Sunday, September 24, 2017

text, furnace, suitcase, life

* I get a late night text: "I think there's a dead mouse behind stuff in the kitchen." Ah, the beginning of "dead mouse in the kitchen" season. Lucky her. None of my mice in the kitchen are dead.

* I sit in the big room. I look out the top of the windows at the trees (2 pines, 3 aspen) swaying in the wind, beaten by rain. I notice the dogs asleep on their bunk bed (the sofa). The clock ticks. A fragrant candle glows. First day of furnace turn on--in September?? Early this year.

* My suitcase (why call it a suitcase? I put no suits into it) is spread over the table that no one eats at. Very conveniently at waist level. A trip, an amble, an adventure.

* Old habits fall by the life side. Today I did not buy a NYT. Gradually, I put together another life. I sometimes feel deflated having lived up to now with 24 stuffed hours in my day. So I sit in the big room:trees, dogs, clock, candle, furnace.

Friday, September 22, 2017

pencil, step, biscotti

* I like scribbling with a pencil but it's skirt gets in the way.

* Reading Katherine Graham's memoir. What she stepped into after her husband's unexpected death!

* Biscotti dipped into hot chai. Oh my!

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Team, bear, faces, war

* I want a "team" so we can go on a "journey" together.

* A bear two blocks from the house.

* The dogs put up with my washing of their faces at the pump.

* "War is human nature on steroids." Ken Burns

Monday, September 18, 2017


* Spur of the moment I decide to take the car through the car wash. Confined to the tunnel of swish swish and monsoon water sprays I remember the okra that I  just picked up. Yum.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

yogurt, board, mouse

* Orange and ginger yogurt=yum

* With no more bookshelf space I repurpose (giggle at the use of that word) the ironing board.

* Mouse scampering about my garden=cute, saucy, dear.
   Mouse in my kitchen=the devil incarnate, evil.

cheeses, deck, bundled up

* Finishing up the cheeses I bought for R twelve weeks ago. My throat tightens and then a relief sweeps over me. He is gone but his pain and the downward spiral are gone also.

* The deck guy rebuilt the deck and now my pencil does not fall through the cracks!

* Reading all day on the deck garbed in sweaters and hat---almost ready to hop up and get gloves.

Saturday, September 16, 2017


* Up at 4 am, just done with sleep. Ah! A hot cup of chai. Why is the chai mix yellow instead of brown? What is that awful smell? It looked like the chai box! Really a chicken broth box.

stream, scrabble, line

* The drive to the po is a bit more tame these days. Use to be I drove through a stream of icy water in a low patch. The county got organized, unfortunately, and built a bridge.

* A continuing Scrabble game laid out on the dining room table--no tally kept.

* Why is the dog's favorite poop place on the ground under the clothes line?

Wednesday, September 13, 2017


* I am still reacting to the most vivid dream I have ever had:
  I am driving my wished for dream car (yellow VW bug) through a post apocholiptic (I know, I know, sp) landscape. "Mad Max" "Terminator" scene. Rutted road, towering hulks of building debris everywhere, grey sky. No shooting or warring people. My yellow car is the only color in the dream. (Similar to that scene in "Schindler's List"when people are being herded around, all in black. One little girl in a red coat is walking out in front of them.) In the back seat are my brother and father giving me driving instructions: "Turn here. Watch out for the hanging girder. No, no. Not the pothole!" I do not pay the slightest attention to them, do not yell at them or tell them to shut up but continue on successfully dodging obstacles. Doing it my own way.
Of note: in real life they are both dead & they both never thought me, a weak woman, could ever accomplish, navigate, live through anything. I have been reluctant to buy a yellow VW bug because I like to haul around things and I thought a bug is not big enough for hauling. However.....if my brother and father can fit in the back seat......hmmmmmm!

V/V,weeding, valley

*  "Get up.
     Shut up.
     Throw up."

* Oh, Matthias. "A Little Chaos" My garden needs weeding.

* The road to the PO will never bore me.  Every time I come to the crest of the hill and the valley pops out in front of me......always the mountains are different, the air is different. Today, sounds individualized and jumped into my open window....the snort of a horse who had his head over the fence close to the road....a single note of a bird...water let out of the res rushing through the ditch bending down the tall grasses.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

po, movies, best

* On the road to the PO aromas waft through the open car window: a freshly mowed alfalfa field, a prairie dog field, a herd of goats. The joy of late summer air.

* Watching movies previously verboten.

* Late at night I analyse my best moment of the day to be when I got the dog outside before she threw up inside.

Monday, September 11, 2017

O'K, phone, dogs

* I have done nothing at all this summer but wait for myself to be myself again.
   G O'K

* I turned off his phone today.

* The dogs follow me from room to room making sure they never sleep deeply enough to miss my moves.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

tired, Burns, movie, heal

* That oh so heavy eye lid feeling when so tired but want to finish the movie.

* Seeing the humor in bullies and arrogant people--straight from a Robert Burns poem.

* "Blue"

* "Always defend your right to heal at your own pace. You are taking your time. You are allowed to take your time." Read this to yourself when you think you are not progressing properly.

Monday, September 4, 2017

tree, dogs, meeting

* The daylight hours of two days I have spent outside on the deck under the maple tree braving the limbs still hanging by what looks like threads. Today the wind was such that the limbs creaked and swayed so that when the shade I chased was under them I avoided my book and looked skyward more than read.

* Long haired dogs whose tails blow about in the wind.

* Anticipating a first meeting of the year.

Friday, September 1, 2017

sheets, money, zoo

* Everytime I organize myself to remake the bed with clean sheets before I begin the dog jumps up for a cozy lie down. Everytime I have to convince him that a nap on the bed at this time is not going to be productive for either of us.

* In a quest for I won't say saving money but so that I can have more to spend. (Go figure that one out!) I am disconnecting the tv. None of my three children are connected so I know I can do this too.

* At times I am sure that I live in a zoo. One dog snores house shakingly (the spell correction thing had fun with that one). The other wakes in a bark at the least bit of sound or smell from outside. I cleaned under the bed today and found dried up throw up. But I have clean sheets tonight properly tucked in. Clean sheets in my zoo.

sheets, deck, tree

* Sheets with little tags that disclose which side goes where.

* A repaired deck. I do not want to put anything on it. I just want lie on it and watch the maple tree.

* Ah...the maple tree. A tree trimmer once left his saw dangling from a branch. There was the saw through the winter swaying over the deck, aimed at who ever came out the door. Too high for me to reach. When I hired to clean out the gutters I offered the saw to keep if he reached up and got it down. He did. I also gave him the saw with the long handle which had been left propped up against the shed. Did this tree trimmer on the spur of the moment change professions? "Hell. I'm not going to do this anymore."  So all in all it is an Edgar Allen Poe-ish tree.

Thursday, August 24, 2017

ready, place, hay

* Floor washed. Table in place. Blinds open. Ready to produce.

* Everytime I leave a place I take with me something to remind me.

* The bales of hay are piled like ramparts on the green grass.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

dig, lights, skeins

* The day goes well and then a phone call to tell me the 22 year old husband of the daughter of a friend has died on active service in Germany. Death, death go away. You are not wanted here. I must be allowed to catch my breath before you come again. Must I dig for gems on most days?

* Red fairy lights surrounding the silver urn.

* Skeins of yarn in the mail that I forgot that I ordered.

Monday, August 21, 2017

tub please,show up,Madeleine,continue

* I am determined to have a tub I can soak in this winter. This determination after a lunch date with someone I have not seen for years at a restaurant where I had not eaten  since 1991. She has invested in a house in Arizona where she goes for November and December, the slowest months of her business. Jeez, just give me a tub with hot water. Would it be weird to have a tub in the dining room?

* Be messy,
   and complicated,
   and afraid,
   and show up anyway.

  In my case, get out of my pajamas first.

* Madeleine Peyroux

* Deciding to continue the business after he is gone.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

music, job, market

* The music of jolly tinkley clicks of full milk bottles as I trundle the shopping cart across the car park.

* Discovering who I am after 45 years of employment.

* Relief to find out the market is not beneficial to sell.

Sunday, July 30, 2017

chore, clear, cattle

* I begin a chore that I have been dreading but it goes well and two hours later I am drenched in sweat ready to haul away trash.

* The day clears so in the late afternoon I can hang out sheets.

* When  I pick up the mail cattle walk in a line parallel towards the fence that divides us. It is as though they are combing for clues in a mystery-except they are munching grass as they walk. I cannot decide which color of fur I like. (Do cattle have fur?)

Saturday, July 29, 2017


and another....

* I so love to sit in a sun filled room long hours until suddenly I realize it is dark outside and I am in the dark.

* She says the flowers are affecting her sinuses so she brings the bouquet over to my house. I suspect that truly they were not bothering her but she just wanted me to have them. Simple kindnesses make me cry.

spent, film, windows, aches

* I am Edith. I am Lady Slane.

* "Truly, Madly, Deeply"

* Windows that crank open and shut.

* The perversity of the body that aches all day and finally when it is dark and I cannot go out and I need to go to bed, calms. 

Friday, July 28, 2017

yipes, food, dentist

* I sleep in after cathartic dreams, calm at last and at peace that I have accomplished perfectly all that is on the checklist. Then.....yipes! An e-mail about the urgent, catastrophic need for refrigerator water filters!! (not enough exclamation points in the universe) I am almost caught by it then dissolve in laughter.

* Family dinner night went well last week so tonight it is Greek.

* I have a reason to cancel a dental appointment.

Friday, July 21, 2017

dogs, season

* Late summer, when the dogs look as if they have been blown over : totally on a side with feet outstretched, tail an extension of body, ears in the flying position. Taking advantage of the cool floor. I creep cautiously through the  darkened room, careful not to tromp on them.

* The season of sunflowers. And clouds of lavender purple Russian sage, sticky hands when touched.

Friday, July 14, 2017

the res today

* the res

*the res

* the res

res, aspects, waves

* "I think I'll go up to the res today. There's a new relief map."
   "I like relief maps--they usually make me feel better."

* "Rivers had become adept at finding bearable aspects to unbearable experiences."

*"You cannot stop the waves but you can learn to surf."

* As I try to open the door someone explains, "That door doesn't always open."

Thursday, July 13, 2017

ice cubes, French, vest

* I forget to eat (imagine that!) and decide to stop at my favorite restaurant. At the table next to me the soup of a little boy is too hot to eat (and he has yellow curls) so his gramma puts ice cubes from her water glass into his bowl. I return to all our family trips when my mother's coffee was too hot to drink and my father was antsy to get back on the road. Ice cubes.

* Movies in French....and if I've seen the movie often enough I can knit and understand.

* I unpack his vest and remember Vera Britain unpacking with her fiancee's family his uniform and kit sent to them directly from the mud of WWI.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

forehead, laughter, sleep walk, urns

* I kiss his forehead and wonder if this is the end. I do not want him to go but he is so weary and nothing will bring him back to where he was.

* I forget there is someone in the basement until I hear laughter. And I am reassured that I am not alone.

* I sleep walk through the day ticking off to do's while humming the Skeeter Davis song, "...don't they know it's the end of the world..." Everybody does the usual, the hospital PA plays "Rock a Bye Baby" when a child is born----what is played when someone dies? I ponder on that a while as the beeps go on and numbers flash on the screen.

* Oh, no. Another decision---which urn (out of scads of them)? I choose one and say, "This one. I can use it for flowers when it is empty." 

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

realities, dogs, weeds

* How many new realities can a person adjust to in a year's time?

* Dear little dogs who forgive me for serving their dinner late.

* I finally hired a weeder for the east garden--I can now look out the window without a sinking, persecuted feeling.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

limbs, dumpster, solitude

* I was able to enjoy the beauty of the snow storm without imagining the destruction created by the heavy, wet snow. Afterword, a son tidied up the downed limbs.

* I rented a dumpster just before the storm which provided a place to put the downed limbs.

* Solitude, which helps me put back together the pieces of me that were flung in all directions after I took him to the emergency room twice in one day.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

food, chores, pad, freedom

* Gut full, I sit browsing food recipes and drooling at food photos. Go figure.

* Thank all above for several mellow cloudy rainy days when I am not pursued by garden chores.

* A clear plastic desk pad with photos and art post cards tucked underneath.

* The lamp conveys a pool of light that illuminates my book until I finish--Sofia has escaped the Paris concert hall and the Count has left his prison hotel to tramp into countryside he has not seen for years = freedom. And my freedom also. Sitting alone (oops! A dog shares the sofa) at midnight, the city hushed, the invalid tucked up, tomorrow's food simmering on the counter.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

do, days, do not

* "What do I know? Hell, I don't even suspect anything."

* Mellow, misty, subdued days when I can say, "Oh, gee. I'll read all day." And I do.

* Released from scheduled cooking and meals.

Saturday, March 11, 2017

glasses, coffee

* "I'll be glad when I get my new glasses. Maybe then I can see."
   "Honey, you don't have your old glasses on!"

* A woman of respectable age at the coffee shop wearing jolly running shoes with red laces: "I'm taking some coffee to my friend in the nursing home. She likes good coffee!"

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

tidy, roll, rosemary

* What joy! I tidy the east end of garden #4--rake the dead leaves off stones, ferret leaves from under the lilacs, create a red brick barrier, comb dead grasses. Muscles aching, I finally go inside when the wind picks up and begins to play with leaves.

* Later I sit in the sunshine surveying my work while the dogs roll in the grasses.

* I brush leaves of the rosemary when I walk by.

Monday, March 6, 2017

so what, toast, tape

* Thinking cap on.....
    face screwed up into unrecognizable form......
    hands thrown up into the air:
    What is wrong with putting catsup on a steak?
    So what to use scotch tape on a men's tie?

* I have a son who puts A-1 sauce on toast.

* In ancient times when the dress code demanded that we girls wear skirts or dresses to school I used scotch tape to repair saggy, disconnected hems.

flags, grey, off

* The flags outside the hospital are snap cracking in the wind.

* A large grey short table (actually two picnic table benches pushed together) piled with newly purchased books placed there so I can remember where I put them. "Now all we need is a samovar on it."

* The supremely wonderful super power of maneuvering the off switch on tv, radio, telephone, lights,  computer, thinking.....

Sunday, March 5, 2017

books, rugs, shed

* I sit on the floor, a rampart of gardening books surrounding me.

* Hardwood floors, totally devoid of rugs.

* I found a shed. (Whisper) I. Found. A. Shed.

Friday, February 24, 2017

horses, enough, road

* The horses brought down from the mountains for winter pasturing encircle a broken up bale of hay. When one has had his fill he shuffles off through the snow.

* At the change of the year bloggers (mostly women) named the year--willing what they want the year to be for them or finding a talisman to guide them through 2017. I thought but could not find my word for this year. The events of last year were so unexpected and draining that I did not trust 2017. I am not referring to political changes or the mood of peoples. Driving alone in the snow today I approached my search again and, engulfed in the beauty surrounding me, I thought, "Enough."

* I had the road to myself today. Horizontal snow. Snow fog.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

bushes, orange, fog

* "Snow makes whiteness where it falls.
    The bushes look like popcorn balls.
    Places I saw yesterday look like somewhere else today."

Yep. And I get lost driving home.

* Orange sticks to push back cuticles.

* Snowy fog. I like it.

hammer, hose, decks

* I FOUND THE HAMMER!!!!! (Snow bound projects can proceed.)

* Yesterday I outlined a garden project with a hose. Today snow covers the hose. On to the graph paper.

* Clear the decks (desks, really). Time for tax prep.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

watering, wind, rosemary

* "Make sure to mid winter water your trees and shrubs." What? Icy hoses, frozen spouts, numb fingers, snow, Arctic winds=what? This year, this year=yes! The blowsy wind makes the hose water dance but this is the first year I have ever been able to water in February. Lovely, lovely.

* The fierce wind catches the tendrils of orange-golden limbs of the willow trees. They flow as though alive. Wait...they are.

* More rosemary plants resting in the kitchen sunshine.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Lift, piñata, sheep

* The out of world feeling when I cannot lift a finger from exhaustion.

* A happy birthday party with a piñata.

* The fuzzy muzzle of a fuzzy sheep.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

hose, notes, here

* Ahhhh....February.....the time of garden planning and garden dreams. A time to grow a fresh perspective of what I have and what I can do. I map out a project with a garden hose.

* The versatility of post-it notes. Don' t want to or cannot paint a wall (landlord)? Paper  it with post-it notes.

* The dog follows me from room to room, always finding a comfortable place to settle. He does have his favorite rooms and when I am in one of his least favorite he stands looking at me, "Do you really want to be here?"

Saturday, February 18, 2017

sit back,earrings, board

* To sit back and let someone else navigate and drive.

*  Dangling turquoise earrings.

* My plant board across the kitchen window (put there to screen me from my neighbor's view) crashes to the counter. The top screw is insufficietly long enough and it popped out of the wall.
The new counter is undamaged! One planter broken. Dirt covers the floor. I repot the plants and give them some time outside while I tidy the floor--at the last minute remembering not to wash it with water (mud) until I sweep it. All is well. My visitor says " you ever use those plastic things pushed into the wall with a screw?" Noooo....I just got a longer screw. We smile at one another.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

chair, people, veg

* "How am I supposed to keep track of things if you move them around all the time?" And he falls off his chair from laughing.

* Watching the Grammies--"Who are all these people?"

* Pasta sauce with all kinds of vegetable in it.

switching, bookstore, cookies

* Switching between movies and thus disorienting him.

* Sitting with a friend at the bookstore, devouring books---not done with him since June.

* Girl Scout cookies and remembering they were 45¢ when last I sold them. ($4.00 now!!)

Saturday, February 11, 2017

pt, intersection, furniture

* A paper towel freaks me out. R scratches (thin skin) and bleeds easily (blood thinners) and has the habit of sopping up his blood from little nicks he gets (needles...insulin) with paper towels which he thumps onto the table beside his chair. When I walk past his table I see a paper towel with blots of purple (instead of red). What? What now? What makes blood become purple? Then I remember he spilled  some illicit red wine last night. (Next thought=if I do not tidy up how long will that purple splashed paper towel remain on the table. I will keep you posted....)

* Learning about intersection construction before it begins.

* When I move some furniture I decide that this arrangement is much better than the old and then I remember I decide that everytime I move furniture.

red, feeders, art

* Pure red lipstick, expertly applied. (Is it the memory of my mother meticulously applying red lipstick as I watched, entranced?)

* I have hung the bird feeders again. To hell with the squirrels.

* Ikons. 

Friday, February 10, 2017

visit, towels, load

* The excitement of an impending visit. Things get fixed. I replace the toilet seat held together with silver duct tape for more months than I have fingers. A final coat of paint in the alcove. The mysterious thing removed from the garbage disposal that sounded like some great beast gnashing teeth. I will not even begin to write about the state of the microwave.

* Enormous yellow and white striped towels.

* Lightening a load.

Thursday, February 9, 2017

July, fingers, sloshed

* "How is he/"
   "Since July it has been a rollercoaster."
   'Nough said. I do not venture into the gritty parts.

* In the early hours I peek at the clock, count on my fingers the hours until I have to get up. Until the early morning light pushes its way into my room through the slates of the blinds. What relief that I have 5 fingers of hours.

* Warm salty water sloshed against sore gums.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

gloaming, crown, shoes

* In the gloaming I sit waiting for my turn. Traffic snaking up the hill toward me appears like so many jewels.

* I enter the  office dreading the procedure then remind myself of the competency of my pony tailed dentist--her name was a Civil War battle. Such a cheerful, sweet smelling place! I wonder if I can put the super comfy chair into my pocket and take it home with me. A hygienist passes the doorway singing a Billy Joel song. I am immersed in the technology and techniques of the day's work so much so that I forget to gag. Four hours later I leave with a new crown.

* "Mahalo for removing shoes."

Tuesday, February 7, 2017


These I have loved:

White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines;and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shinning and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such--
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns....

Rupert Brooke

in, del, ana

*Unasked for,  the home healthcare nurse carries my newspaper in with her.

* To delegate:to commit a task to someone

*Musing on the recurring question: is a human's life to be analyzed on the basis of brilliant artistic productions or how much of a total sh** they are?
(Musings are gems because that means I have time and space to sit and think!)

Monday, February 6, 2017

Oatmeal, red, list,meetings

* Oatmeal.
add anything you want to it,
tummy soothing,
neutral color,
ancestor connected.

* A red hot water bottle, full of hot water.

* In the wee hours I stumble out of bed to view the day's to do list. "Well now, what really, really has to be accomplished today?" The list shortened to one, I ooze back to bed.

* I ruminate over which meeting to attend...D---has the possibility of containing people attempting to grind me down with their politics with no hope of telling them to shut up or offering an alternative view (they will not listen & it would not further our relationship). S---will offer disheartening stories with a little humor (I will do my damness to inject it) and possible glimmerings of hope. Or I can stay home with the red hot water bottle.

Sunday, February 5, 2017

crown, garden, streets

* I have an appointment for a I disclose here that I dread dentistry done to me. This dread is a shadow of the days when I followed my brother into the dentist's chair (always). A chair still wet with his copious tears. "Okay, now it is your turn to go into this odd smelling room from which recently loud howls have come." At which point I remember that the present day room smells quite nice, the chair ultra comfy, and the modern dentist cheery and kind. Deep breath, pull up the big girl panties. (Why am I saying that so often these days?)

* Joyous February days when I plan and sketch and dream of what I will do with the garden this coming season.

* Empty streets bereft of football game watchers--so easily navigated.

Saturday, February 4, 2017

clock, remember, plants

* I just realized there is no clock in the great room--it has been gone since I gave a clock to someone --and I do not miss it. Just kind of flow with what I decide needs to be done. (The dogs, however, do remind me of their nose bag times.)

* I trundle through the day's list, plodding not unhappily but plodding. Then I remember my birthday weekend and a real satisfaction overcomes me so the air is fresher and my eyes are spark-o-lee.

* I did not hang curtains at the kitchen window because I like to look out at the darkness. Oops! The near neighbor has the same idea! A row of plants across the window is the solution. I can still gaze out at the night but now from behind greenery.