
too early for most
city park in quietude
for now it is mine
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Solitude

too early for most
city park in quietude
for now it is mine
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Solitude

Sincere words of courage and wisdom
solicit resounding amens from the choir loft,
and hallelujahs that reverberate
through vacant pews and empty stares.
The familiar message inspires those
who came to sing along, and though
not having fallen on deaf ears, it nonetheless
does not reach the ears of its hoped-for audience.
A lackluster congregation adjourns
to the fellowship hall to await dispensation of
the promised coffee, cake and cookies.
But the coffee is cold, the cake is stale,
and the cookies have raisins
instead of chocolate chips.
And so it’s no wonder that,
after the uplifting words
heard by none save the choir,
the good folk in the fellowship hall
see no recourse other than a
coffee-splashing,
cookie-hurling, and
oh-so-ungodly
food fight.
Let the Congress say…
amen.

Couldn’t Resist
#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.

Women’s March in Portland, OR
If we were having coffee I would tell you it hasn’t been a very productive week. My kitchen is still completely torn up from my DIY remodel. The rest of the house looks like a tornado passed through; a tornado with lots and lots of white fur. And I’m tired of subsisting on frozen dinners because my range is covered by a drop cloth and a grand array of hand tools.
Of course, all of that is totally under my control to change if I just managed to get up off my derriere and do something about it. Okay, I admit I’ve been binge-watching Haven on Netflix. And going to visit my grandkids. Oh, and then there was that little march thing on Saturday. Maybe you heard about it: the Women’s March?
For someone who even has trouble being in a crowded grocery store (no joke), it was a bit daunting to be walking shoulder to shoulder among 100,000 people in the streets of Portland, OR. But in a last minute text, my daughter asked me if I would go with her.
I wrote back, “No. I can’t,” and as I paused to consider how to phrase the notion that I wouldn’t be able to handle the crowds and it would be too overwhelming to be out and about like that, I looked at what I had written. “No. I can’t.”
And I thought to myself, “Yes. I can.” It would be difficult and challenging, and maybe even completely overwhelming, and I might have to leave as soon I got there. But yes, I could at least try.
So I deleted those two words, and instead wrote, “Sure.” And we went. And I survived. And I’m glad I showed up. And I’m glad the other 99,999 people showed up as well.

Portland PD monitoring the Women’s March 1.21.17
Did we make a difference? Yes, I think we did. It made a difference for me. In me. It made me challenge my “no I can’t” beliefs, not only about my anxieties, but about my ability to help effect positive change in a country that so sorely needs that right now. I’m glad I went. I’m glad my daughter extended the invitation, even though she probably expected my response to be, “No, I can’t.”
I still don’t plan on going to the grocery store, at least not until my freezer full of entrees needs replenishing. And I don’t know if I will ever join another march. But I did it, and – dare I say – I’m proud.
Now I just need to apply my “can do” energy to house work and kitchen remodeling tasks. But first I’m going to nuke something from the freezer for lunch, and then play with my dog just in case he hasn’t shed enough fur on the furniture. Oh, and then I’ll be visiting my grandkids this afternoon.
Seems I’m just too busy to be productive! Maybe next week…

After multiple seasons of chipping my lawnmower blade on a chunk of concrete protruding from the grass at the very edge of my property, I decided one day to dig the offending obstruction out of the ground.
I grabbed a shovel and set to it. The more I dug, however, the more I found. Ultimately, I discovered I had come upon the burial site of a heavy concrete birdbath — pedestal and all – chunked into several pieces. Kind of like a victim in a creepy ax murder movie, only with cement dust instead of blood. More than I had bargained for, at any rate.

I loaded the pieces into my wheelbarrow and dumped them next to my driveway until I could figure out a way to get rid of the body – er, I mean birdbath. After a few months of staring at the rubble, I came up with a plan. I would hide the body in plain sight!
I had dug up a circular section of turf in the middle of my yard several months previously, admittedly with no clue as to how I was going to incorporate it into my landscape theme (or lack thereof). Keep the neighbors guessing, I always say.
So here I had this garden-like circular space and these rock-like concrete chunks. What better way to kill two birds with one birdbath, than to combine the garden and the rocks to build a rock garden!

Of course, I don’t really know how to make a rock garden, but I lined the circle area with the concrete chunks, and then planted a shrub in the middle for good measure. Maybe shrubs don’t belong in rock gardens, and maybe the rock garden will morph into something else over time. Apparently it’s not just the neighbors whom I confound with my actions; I have no clue either as to what I’m doing.
I think I’ve pulled off disguising the birdbath corpse, though. At least there haven’t been any robins or sparrows in long black overcoats and fedora hats pulled low over their eyes knocking at my door.
I wonder what else I will uncover as I continue my random landscape projects. I’m thinking of tearing down the old shed behind my house… what do you suppose lies hidden beneath that?
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Repurpose
tears frozen in time
‘til the heart can bear the flood
once allowed to fall


What is the color of ten?
the smell of restraint?
the taste of velocity?
the sound of one hand
falling in the forest?
How does the intangible feel?
warm? brittle? dry as a circle?
When I have all the answers to
these vital life questions, perhaps then
the world will make sense.
The Daily Post daily prompt: Ten

This post is based upon a post I wrote for a prior blog I maintained in a previous lifetime.

Cats are amazing creatures. Not just the whole landing on their feet thing, although that is pretty impressive. But think about it: how can an animal that spends so much of its time sleeping actually manage to develop a personality? And speaking of personalities: how does a pet that really doesn’t give a rip about anything or anyone become so endearing to us?
There’s a lot we can learn from cats, and not just how to eat an entire shrew in one piece. Here are five takeaways from my feline observations:
1. Two naps are better than one. At times when we are trying to weigh out a difficult matter, we are advised that it might be best to “sleep on it” rather than making a rash decision. Cats are very deliberate. They sleep on everything. Eat now or later? No rush, let’s sleep on it awhile. Tease the dog or ignore the dog? No need to decide right now. Sleep on it. Someone has laid out their best clothing for a very important engagement? Oh, cool! Let’s sleep on it!
2. A little spit goes a long way. Cats make do. They are masters at grooming. And yet, compare what they have to work with to our arsenal of personal hygiene products. We have deodorant, shampoos, conditioner, body soap, body lotion, skin cleansers, skin softeners… just to name some bare essentials. Cats have rough tongues and spit. They are minimalists, but they get the job done quite efficiently.

3. Sometimes you just have to cough up a hairball. Cats are unceremonious about getting rid of what’s bugging them. They don’t worry about proper protocol; they just do what needs to be done. Sometimes we spend so much time hemming and hawing about how to do or say something that we forget what the issue was in the first place. You got something to say? Spit it out. Tactfully, of course. And not on the carpet.
4. Fetch is a four-letter word (and cats can’t spell). Cats don’t kowtow to anyone. You wanna throw a stick… you go fetch it. It’s not that they don’t care about anyone else. Well, maybe that’s it exactly. But for our purpose here, let’s just say that cats have high self-esteem and don’t feel the need to grovel. Groveling is bad, and it messes up the fur.
5. If it didn’t sit well the first time, don’t eat it again (are you dogs out there listening?!?). Cats are known for being finicky about what they eat. And not to pick on dogs, but dogs will eat things that cats won’t even look at sideways. In fact, dogs will eat things that cats have already eaten once. But I digress.
The lesson here is that we can be discriminating about what we will and will not accept or put up with in our lives. And just because someone else thinks something is a good idea for us, just remember it’s not their face in the food bowl.

As I watch my kitty sitting next to me and staring blankly into space, I’m sure he is contemplating more nuggets of wisdom to reveal to me some day.
We’ve only just clawed the furniture – er, I mean scratched the surface.
The Daily Post Discover Challenge: Conventional Wisdom
had I thought to speak
my mind and heart and conscience
where might we be now

The Daily Post daily prompt: Oversight