gratitude · Life

20 Things I Love

Sally1 Comment

The RDP prompt was “cardinal” which led me to a post I had written in 2015: “Quick — 20 things you love.” That was over 11 years ago. Without studying the old list (although I posted it down below), I thought I would post the first 20 things that came to mind today.

  1. Flowers in the asteracea family — you know, the ones with petals, like daisies. My Shasta daisies are blooming in abundance. The purple coneflower is starting to bloom
  2. Stories — personal stories. Oral histories. I love when someone sits in my office and shares a sliver of their life.
  3. Melty vanilla ice cream
  4. Cold crisp Chardonnay
  5. Calls for no reason other than to say hi
  6. Books that make me think
  7. Travel to other countries where English is not the first language
  8. New sneakers — especially from Xero shoes whose zero-drop shoes gave me a new lease on walking
  9. Homemade cinnamon rolls
  10. Kneading bread dough
  11. Dinner out
  12. Photos of my grandkids — especially those that are spontaneously sent to me on my phone. They brighten my day.
  13. Blue skies — you need a few smoke-obscured skies to appreciate the blue ones.
  14. Getting rid of boxes of stuff — so satisfying
  15. Birdsong at dawn
  16. Coyotes howling in the middle of the night
  17. The smell of vanilla
  18. Simon & Garfunkel
  19. Jumping in the lake
  20. Going for a long walk

 Quick – 20 Things You Love

A friend posted this challenge: “Quick. Twenty things you love. (Not family, friends, or Jesus. We know that.)”

1. Going for a walk
2. My mother’s smile
3. Biscotti
4. A Military Tattoo — the kind with bagpipes, not ink on skin
5. Old stained glass windows
6. The smell of chlorine from a swimming pool
7. Days when I have nowhere to go
8. Bare trees of winter
9. Bare trees of winter with cardinals adding color
10. A good poem
11. A handmade quilt
12. Sunrise
13. Losing weight
14. A full tank of gas
15. Sleeping in my own bed when I’ve been away
16. Lilacs
17. Getting real mail
18. Warm feet
19. A free hour to spend in a used bookstore
20. A new song that catches my heart so I listen to it six times in a row.

Life

Song Lyric Sunday: Empowerment

Sally10 Comments

This is my second stab at the blogging challenge called Song Lyric Sunday. This week the theme is to find a song that carries a message of empowerment.

The first song that came to mind was Simon and Garfunkel’s The Boxer. I won’t post all the lyrics but would encourage you to listen to the song. It’s the story of young man leaving and essentially being beat up by the world, squandering what little he had, longing to go home. The final verse is this picture of hope:

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains

The fighter still remains.

Perseverance. Grit. Sticktoittiveness. Tenacity. Call it what you want. It’s an empowering picture.

Honestly, I’m not a fan of boxing. It seems a poor way to settle anything. I found this photo of my father the other day, though, boxing with his brother at a summer camp where they worked. I’m throwing it in just because.

nonsense · Writing

Sometimes

Sally1 Comment

Sometimes I am lazy
And use imprecise words
Instead of wrens or robins
I just refer to them as birds

Sometimes I can catch myself —
I know what I should do!
But sometimes I say “sometimes”
Instead of “yesterday at two”

This is my stream-of-consciousness ditty brought to you by the prompt “sometimes.”

family · poetry

Gravy

Sally7 Comments

I learned from my mother
Who learned from her mother
Who presumably learned from her mother
How to make gravy
The finishing touch to a homemade family dinner

On the Starship Enterprise
The crew got their food from a replicator
They could order anything they wanted
It came out piping hot or cold, cooked to perfection
3-D printed nourishment

But
Replicated gravy
Made without love
Won’t taste
Right

Star Trek replicator

This is my response to W3 Challenge. Here are the rule which I sort of bent.

Write one three-line stanza poem that brings together a cultural tradition and modern technology.

Your poem can be playful, thoughtful, imaginative, or personal. Each line stanza may contain any number of syllables, so feel free to follow your own natural rhythm.

Structure

  • Line Stanza 1: Mention something traditional from your culture, such as a craft, art form, festival, song, food, or dance.
  • Line Stanza 2: Connect that tradition with technology, such as AI, an app, a digital tool, a virtual space, or a smart device.
  • Line Stanza 3: Show how the tradition and technology can work together, inspire one another, or create something new.

Most importantly, enjoy exploring how the past and the future can meet in just three lines stanzas.

Life

Temptation

Sally3 Comments

This post was in the draft folder and dated: 2016/05/06 at 1:14 pm. It came up when I searched my Draft Folder for the word “timing” — RDP’s prompt today.

I got a phone call yesterday that has been rattling around inside.

In a good way.

Kind of also in a bad way.

“Hi, Sally,” the voice said, “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” I said. I was just washing dishes. They could wait.

It was the AD (Athletic Director) at Greene. I knew him. I had worked for him before, and, at one point, lived two doors away.

“We’re looking for a varsity swim coach for both the boys and girls next year. Our contract requires that we do an internal search to fill coaching positions which we’ve done, but your name keeps coming up. We would love it if you would come back to coach,” he said.

He went on to do some salesmanship, telling me how they’ve updated the timing system, put in a new heating system, refurbished the diving boards. “We’d really like you to come back. You did a great job before, and we’d love to have you as part of our swim program again.”

Oh my goodness.

The dangling carrot was so appealing.

I love coaching. Oh, not every minute of it, as my children could tell you. But the overall reward of being involved with young people, especially of the teenage variety, is incredible.

Several years ago I wrote a post during a time when I thought I was done coaching called “MomSwimCoach.”  It’s now up at Laura Brown’s Makes You Mom site [no longer active], and is about a one of the greatest gifts I ever received — a quilt with squares made by one team of swimmers.

But this temptation — to have the whole swim program and run with it — so so tempting.

I knew the answer.

“Thank you so much for thinking of me,” I told the AD, “but my mother died in November and I’ve been taking care of my father since. I couldn’t commit to you the time needed.”

We finished our conversation with pleasantries, but, as I said, it rattled around.

I went for a walk, mulling it over.

Temptation comes when something

And there ends the draft.

If my draft had shoulders, I would grab hold of them and shake them. “When something WHAT?” I would demand.

It’s funny that the prompt word — timing — was triggered by my reference to timing systems for swim meets, but the bigger broader story has to do with the timing of an opportunity. I’m in the same boat today. I have an opportunity, and it’s a great opportunity — but I have to weigh it all out. The timing is questionable. I should write the details in a blog post and save it in the draft folder for 8 – 10 years.

For the record, I have zero regret about not pursuing the swim coach job. In fact, I had totally forgotten about it until this showed up after searching my draft folder. I made the right choice back then. Now for a repeat performance.

family

Fill in the Blank

Sally8 Comments

From June 2011 —

*****

I laughed aloud the other day when I heard a quote from Sartre — “Hell is other people.”  I don’t necessarily agree with it, but it made me laugh.  Sometimes dealing with people is hard.

My sister, who works in a church, once told me, “Ministry would be fun — if it weren’t for the people.”

Last night I found myself thinking, “Parenting would be fun — if it weren’t for the kids.”

You could go all sorts of places with this quote — just fill in the blank.

(blank) would be fun if it weren’t for the (blank).

A teacher might say, “Teaching would be fun if weren’t for the students.”

An RN might say, “Nursing would be fun if it weren’t for the patients.”

A retail salesperson might say, “This store would be fun if it weren’t for the shoppers.”

And so on.

Last night, Laurel couldn’t sleep.  There was a storm earlier in the evening.  But I don’t think that was what caused her insomnia.  The next day was going to be a busy day and I think she was anxious about it.  The problem was that I was tired.  I wanted just a few minutes to myself.  My compassion was very low.

Finally, after I snapped at her unkindly, she came to bed with me.  Parenting would be fun if it weren’t for these darn kids.

In the middle of the night I rolled over and found myself face to face with Chim-chim, her stuffed monkey.  She was hugging him in her sleep and I hadn’t even noticed that she had him when she came into bed.  Her monkey did a better job comforting her than I did.

Beyond the monkey I saw a little girl just trying to deal with life.

My heart melted.

Being a kid would be fun if it weren’t for the parents.

For the record, hell isn’t other people.

And being a parent can be heaven.

*****

Note from 2016: Draft folder rescue — this was first written 5 years ago. I briefly published it, but then took it down. I didn’t want anyone to misinterpret what I was saying. Parenting is incredibly fun — because of the kids. Sometimes parents just get a little tired.

Today’s note (July 9, 2016) — I took this post down not long after I published it THE SECOND TIME. Today it showed up when I searched “insomnia” which is the RDP prompt word of the day.

For whatever reason, it strikes a nerve and some people find it offensive. Let’s see how long it lasts this go-round.

poetry

WYSIWYG

Sally7 Comments

I never speak with candor
My words are lies — not some words, every
I am selfish to my core and care naught for any man
Look! It’s obvious that I’m not who I pretend to be!
Gah! People choose to be blind —

This is my response to the W3 Challenge, which this week is inspired by Emily Dickinson’s famous poem:

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

For this prompt, write a poem in which every line is a lie — except one.

You may take this playfully, seriously, mysteriously, or emotionally. Your “lies” might be obvious falsehoods, gentle self-deceptions, exaggerations, masks, evasions, myths, dreams, denials, or things the speaker wishes were true. Somewhere in the poem, however, let one line tell the truth plainly.

Extra credit: Try writing your poem as a Golden Shovel.

A Golden Shovel poem borrows a line from an existing poem and uses each word from that borrowed line, in order, as the final word of each line in your new poem. For example, if you use Dickinson’s line “Tell all the truth but tell it slant,” your poem would have eight lines, ending with: Tell / all / the / truth / but / tell / it / slant.

Life · swimming

Swimming Lessons

Sally4 Comments

This is a post that I started in 2018 and never finished. It’s a draft folder find when I searched “lane way” because LANEWAY is the RDP prompt word today.

M– drove me crazy.

He was always late to practice — through no fault of his own. He lived in the next town over, so his mother had a longer drive to the pool. Plus he was only eight years old with the short attention span so many boys that age have.

He usually walked out of the boys’ locker room twirling his goggles on one finger, carrying his cap in the other hand, and looking at the ceiling, or the other lanes, or out the window, while we were finishing up the warm-up in the lanes right in front of him.

“Whaddawedoin’?” he asked while pulling on his cap. Then he jumped right in the pool without waiting for an answer.

“I’m going first,” he said to one of the girls in his lane and planted his scrawny little body in front of hers.

“You need to warm up,” I said to him.

“Nah — I’m good,” he said.

“You need to warm up,” I said again, and thus began the first argument of practice.

M– argued with me about everything.

“Every time you push off the wall, I want you to get your arms up into a streamline position,” I told my group at every practice, demonstrating with my arms extended over my head, squeezing my head, my hands overlapping to form a tight point. Then I stood at the end and watched as each swimmer pushed over the wall.

Here endeth the draft.

I remember M– well. Unfortunately, I don’t remember where I was going with this story.

M– was bratty kid, but a talented swimmer. He went on to set records on the age group team and the high school — none of which had to do with my coaching. I actually tried to get him moved down to the beginner group until he could behave himself better, but I was overruled.

At the final meet that year, he swam fast, won races, set records, blah-blah-blah. He came to me and took me by the hand. “I want my picture with you,” he said. I dutifully smiled next to a scrawny kid on a starting block, but I still resented his disruptive ways.

The next year, he moved to the next group, and I stopped coaching to take care of my father.

Then there was a pandemic.

I didn’t lose sight of him. This is a small town, and the swimming community is even smaller.

I watched coaches pander to him and fuss over him. Team rules didn’t really apply to him. He was fast. Yes, he was fast.

Here’s where I get on my soapbox. There are things that are far more important than athletics. Being nice ranks pretty high for me. As does being thoughtful and listening. Respect, moral character, leadership — I could go on.

Hypothetically, if M– became an Olympic swimmer and got disqualified from an event at the Olympics, I would hope that he would take his lumps. If the disqualification call was a bad call, all the better. Those build even more character. The worse thing that could happen to him would be for the President of the United States to call the President of the Olympic International Committee to plead with them to reconsider — and then have the call reversed.

But that’s just me. There are things I value more than gold medals, World Cups, or bragging rights.

Life · poetry

The Pussy Willows

Sally8 Comments

Many years ago
During a very dark time
A shroud hung over my thoughts
Lost and confused   
I got into my car
And started to drive.

Like a horse that heads to the barn
When given free rein
My green VW bug drove me home
To Cooperstown.

My parents were away
The house was locked up
I knew where the key was hidden
If I had wanted to go inside
But I didn’t
Instead I walked across the street
Down through the pasture
Behind the barns

It was late April
Most of the field was brown
With the remnants of grass and current spring mud.
Fallen stalks of goldenrod
Broken by the heavy snows of winter
Criss-crossed in a mat beneath my feet

I can still feel that moment
Arriving at the pussy willows
In the spring of 1983.

Ah, pussy willows
Bare sticks with furry gray catkins attached
No spectacular color
No showy strength
Soft wet ground underneath

I absorbed their presence for the longest time
Reaching up
Stroking the catkins
Walking slowly through the little grove
Sighing
Pondering
Weeping

As the sun dipped lower
A chill settled over the field
I got back in my car
And drove back to Syracuse
Nothing had changed
Yet everything had
Thanks to a grove
Of pussy willows.


This poem is in response to this week’s prompt for W3:
When life becomes overwhelmingly busy, we often dream of having time to ourselves. … Have you ever experienced such a moment? …What did the quiet teach you? …What thoughts, memories, or emotions does it awaken in you?

poetry

Roots

Sally6 Comments

So hardy
This darn garden weed party
They send out underground shoots
Roots

I’m rooted
Genetics aren’t muted
Love for this ancestral throng
Strong

This is a deibide baise fri toin, an Irish poetic form

  • The poem and/or stanzas within the poem are quatrains (or 4-line stanzas).
  • Rhyme scheme for each stanza is a simple aabb pattern.
  • Lines one and two rhyme on a two-syllable word; lines three and four rhyme on a monosyllabic word.
  • Line one has three syllables, line two has seven, line three has seven, and line four has one.
  • 3-7-7-1

I’ve had a crazy week with little energy for writing. This will have to do for the W3 prompt which was to use the garden for inspiration and go below the surface.