* The elegance of a cat. Ballet. Grace. The transparency of a cat. Never concealing what thoughts transpire.
* Freshly laundered laundry working hard to be dry before I have to haul in the racks as the sun plops down so as not to offer the raccoons playtime amusement.
* Landing on a calm after two weeks of medical questions. Acceptance.
* Discovering the birth place of my great-great-great grandfather. Kirk Ireton, Derbyshire, England, 1788. Also found his middle name. How did he get to Ohio?
* What do you do when you cannot sleep? I sing. Supine. If I merely vocalize the words to songs all goes well. It is when I ramble off to envision what the words mean that I find myself wide eyed at the last bar. Intent upon remembering the entire gift list of the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' last night, I paused. 12 drummers drumming? What a cacophony, an eardrum splitting when combined with the 11 pipers piping. 10 lords a-leaping with 9 ladies dancing? There's going to be trouble there unless one of the lords leaves for a smoke. How large is this place anyway? Lots of activity. Do the 8 maids a-milking include farm animals? A lowing moo might fit in but what if these maids are a-milking goats or filching from the master. Almond milking would be quieter. A-swimming swans necessitate a water feature, unless they paddle around in the punch. Golly gee, I hope this show has been moved outside. Dinner must include an 8 geese a-laying omelet, huh? Gold rings come in a variety of sizes? As to the 4 calling birds...are they feathered creatures or '60's guys yelling at women? Get the cauldron hot for the 3 French hens. Well, at least there is the correct number of turtle doves to sidestep an altercation. Lonely partridge in the leaf denuded wintertime pear tree. Tonight I'm singin' songs in a language that is so foreign to me that I haven't a clue to the words.
* Crisp celery.
* A splurge, indulgence. Every two weeks I order a flower arrangement from a local florist which I collect and enjoy at home. I carry it room to room as I move about the house and it is what I see when I open my eyes in the morning.
* Sitting quietly in a room to play AML's 'Well then, what do you like?' game. Full sentences using no negatives.
* Arranging comfy nests for the dogs in each room. "Okay, she's on the move. Let's cuddle up here." One such is by a window where they can guard the backyard.
* A soft seat by the winder. Sun streaming through cold panes. Dogs beside edging for a spot with a view. The view for me...desert glow shed, round smooth rocks, dried penstemon asleep for the winter, brown leaves dressed trees. For them the view of a squirrel's (or squirrels's) nest way up high in the crabapple tree. The hope of spring and rebirth set on the shelf. The rhythm of life.
* Country music:"three chords and the truth"
* "We never step into the same river twice."
* "talked off the edge of a tantrum"
* Tongue stripping fresh pineapple. "Just another piece." Then, "Yipes!!"
* A fresh pot of cranberries bubblin'.
* Fred Rogers:"Often when you think you're at the end of something, you're at the beginning of something else."
* "The only thing that has to be finished by next Tuesday is next Monday."
* The subzero weather and recent snow zapped the remaining leaves-on-trees here. A ginko (I almost typed 'kinko') which yearly enchants me succumbed to the dead leaves hanging story. Not all is gloom however because propelled by the wind the leaves-on-trees shudder to produce a marvelous rustling sound.
* Schopenhaver: walking=a continuously checked falling.
* 'In Vlaamse Velden' Always I am interested in how the film industry of other countries present. This particular series offers the Great War from the viewpoint of Belgium. Several languages are used, as they are in Belgium, and the tension (ethnic?) between the speakers is portrayed. How invaded peoples react is informative. "To the German army and Germany. Soon may they be reunited" is a toast given by the owner of a house taken over by German officers. A bit of a soap opera at times but isn't that a fun way to present history? Fashion and costumely speaking, the Great War is my favorite era. The GW, a time between tightly corseted of previous eras and burn the damn thing (corset) with a great, healthy, full intake of breath. The soft, feminine, embellishments are still on the garments but the drag in the mud and filth length is gone and women can actually get down to productive work, unencumbered. Ghent is the home town of several characters and the sluices are opened to slow the German invasion which I knew happened in WWII in the Netherlands but was interested to learn the Belgians used this defense in the Great War.
* I have been away from the alphabet tapping here due to switching around rooms chez moi. A paint job, book moving, and more produced exhaustion and diversion from the recent voting in which (the vote) I did not participate. All is settled now and I am able to walk around in the dark without bruising (me).
* Three candles sit side by side, lit. Two flames are constant, unwavering. The third flame dances to unseen, unfelt tides.
* The freshness of fallen snow when I stand outside. The city rattle and hum is muted. A humidity in the air quenches my arid pores.
* I have a Sunday assignation on screen which is a golden appointment. Not wanting to miss it, I log on with fiercely straggling hair. (No aroma screen yet so I am safe with the smell part.) He:"Your hair, your hair!" And he laughs because his hair is a wreck also!
* I splurged on two wreaths. Their aroma permeates my bedroom and I wake to lavender, eucalyptus and thyme.
* I did not vote. Rhett Butler's parting words hum in my mind.
