Life

Smooth, real smooth

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Smooth <— that’s the Saturday Stream of Consciousness prompt.

Honestly, I got nothin’.

The only thing that comes to mind — and KEEPS coming to mind — is the sarcastic “Smooth, real smooth” that I’ve heard when I’ve goofed up. Again.

Have I ever mentioned the fact that I’m a little awkward at times?

For my work, I have to call people, and it stresses me out. I think ahead to what I want to say when I have to leave a message — “Hi, this call is for [insert name]. This is Sally calling from the Membership Office.”

Sometimes, I get through the point of the call seamlessly.

Other times, though, someone will walk past my open door, wave, and I get distracted. That’s when I start babbling.

I think that as I grow older, it’s not just my body that loses some of its flexibility, but my brain also loses elasticity. I don’t multitask like I used. I forget names and/or words.

Then I feel a little like a fool.

Smooth, real smooth.

Life · poetry

Never Assume?

Sally2 Comments

This is my response to this week’s W3 challenge: write an alphabet poem

We had two options: 26 words (which I did) or 26 lines.

Assume
Question
Guess
Look
Notice
Unearth
Examine
Scrutinize
Ponder
Weigh
X-ray
Open, Close, Test
Build
Zero in
Deliberate
Know
Verify
Judge
Misjudge
Reconsider
Hope
Yield
Forgive

Never assume, because it makes an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me

photography

Juxtaposed

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The Lens-Artist Challenge this week is “to explore juxtaposition as a photographic technique.”

Years ago, I heard Nat Geo photographer Sam Abell give a talk on his photography. He talked about waiting for days for the light to be in the right place and for everything to come together for an amazing photograph. Even with all his planning and waiting, there was a certain element of luck or serendipity or something that came into play with the best photos. That, and shooting rolls and rolls and rolls of film.

Anyway, I snap pictures because I want to remember something. That’s pretty much it. I’m not an artist; I’m a memory keeper — although I think the best artists probably are memory keepers. Amazing memory keepers.

The following are my juxaposition submissions — with a little explanation.

Two #14s in perfect synchronization (2016?). What also makes it interesting to me is that one player is my son and the other his cousin who was on the other team. I only wish I hadn’t taken the photo in black and white but I was playing with settings.

That’s my mother in the foreground “resting her eyes” at her granddaughter’s high school graduation (2010). And that’s my youngest daughter looking at the camera and, I’m sure, wondering how much longer her sister’s graduation will go on.

My sister with her two younger brothers (1964). Juxtaposition of facial expressions?

Is this a juxaposition photo? I dunno. I thought it was funny — kids waiting to see Santa who’s getting a parking ticket from the military police. (circa 1964)

I took this photo today at the Munson Art Museum in Utica, NY. It made me laugh. Part of the museum is in an old Victorian house, with rooms staged with antiques, roped off with those red-velveted cords. Anyway, in one room full of glorious ornate pieces of furniture and statues and artwork, there was this yellow vase with a truck on it. Here’s the card that explains it:

I suppose tire theft isn’t funny, but I laughed. The artist, and the museum in the way it displayed his artwork, were very clever.

poetry

Time Change

Sally2 Comments

The next time change is two weeks away! GAH!!! On March 8, we must turn our clocks ahead and lose an hour. I’m not a fan.

In Val’s Seasonal Scavenger Hunt, prompt #3 is to write a Dizain describing your personal journey into the new season. A dizain is a ten-line French poetic form, popular in the 15th-16th centuries, featuring 10 lines of 10 syllables each (or iambic pentameter) and a strict ababbccdcd rhyme scheme.

Here’s a dizain bemoaning the upcoming time change.

I bristle when it’s time to change the clocks
It seems to me that time is time is time
The change of seasons we cannot outfox
Circadian rhythms are somewhat sublime
To muck with them just seems to be a crime
C’mon, old body, you can re-adjust!
It’s not a choice — in fact, you must! You must!
In the fall, then once again in spring
I’ll do it, but I’ll do it with disgust
The brittleness of age dislikes the swing

poetry

The Long Winter

Sally2 Comments

The apples at the store were soft
Their crispness was long gone
Too long sunsets were early
And too late was the dawn

Snuggling with her Tigger-Tiger
Kept little Molly warm
As outside snow swirled and blew
Another winter storm

“It’s almost March! When will this end?”
Mamma wailed and whined
The blinding blizzard hammered down
Of Spring there were no signs

Molly hugged her Tigger-cat
And cried, “But Mommy look!
Since we can’t go outside today
Let’s read another book!”

This is my response to Val’s Winter Scavenger Hunt‘s second prompt: Use the following words in a poetry form of your choice: apple(s), sunset, tiger, hammer.

Music

Under Pressure

Sally9 Comments

Yesterday, I walked on the track listening only to Queen. I had this idea that I could put together a whole play list of Queen for my senior walkers. My concern was that Queen may not appeal to the 70-year olds, but when I asked a few of them, they were in favor of it.

So I was walking on the track listening only to Queen. Their music is great: Somebody to Love, Another One Bites the Dust, We Will Rock You, We are the Champions, etc.

When Bohemian Rhapsody came on, I couldn’t help but think of our local summer opera company — Glimmerglass Opera — and how cool it would be to hear them perform that song. Can’t you picture it? Do opera companies ever do anything like that?

Anyway, back to walking on the track, a song came on that I didn’t recognize at first. I was a good way into the song before someone sang the words “under pressure.” Of course, I knew the song then.

Of course, I came home and watched the video, which I had never watched before. The chaos that they show — so appropriate for today. The whole song is so appropriate for today. The chaos, the scariness, the need for love.

So here you go — a little Queen and David Bowie.

I know Linda Hill wasn’t thinking of pressure as a starts with ‘pre’ word when she suggested that for the SoCS prompt, but I had the song running through my head when I saw her prompt.

poetry

Geranium

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Rubbing fuzzy leaves
Releases distinctive smell
Pink geranium
Awakening memories
Mom’s thriving houseplant green thumb

I’m late to the scavenger hunt (thanks, Val, for sharing it with me) but here’s my response to the first prompt: “Write a poem inspired by leaves (dying ones or newly emerged). For bonus points use a Tanka to express your feelings about the leaves…”

Since the scavenger hunt started in the fall, I’m sure it was intended to inspire poetry about the beautiful colors of autumn. However, I’m writing in February, and immediately thought of my sad geranium. It’s the one plant that I’ve been able to keep alive for multiple years. That alone tells me that it’s an easy plant.

Its leaves turn crispy brown starting at the edges when I forget to water it — which happens more often than it should. Now I’ve placed the plant in a place I walk past all the time so I’ll see it.

“Oh, yeah, you,” I say to those brown-edged leaves. “You need water.”

So I give it water and the whole plant perks up.

Once, when I went on vacation, my son was taking care of the house for me. He remembered to feed the cats but forgot to water the geranium.

Priorities, right?

Anyway, I thought the geranium was a goner that time — but just add water and it’s back.

I do love the smell of the leaves when I’m dead-heading and dead-leafing. They make me think of my mom who, I’m pretty sure, never killed a plant in her life.

This is a photo from a few summers ago. The geranium, on the left, is still alive today. Nothing else in the photo is.
poetry

Earthworms, Sea Pigs, Hoverflies, and Sally

Sally10 Comments

You hide, avoiding spotlight and regard,
Let others have their moments in the sun
Small talk, large groups for you are both quite hard
Thus you oft eschew the words, “Well done”

What creature, then, can I compare with thee?
An earthworm making soil in the dirt?
Or detritivore cleaning up the sea,
Hard-working anti-social introvert

A hoverfly works hard to pollinate
The lovely flowers everyone enjoys
Yet no one pauses to appreciate
The busy flying workers of no noise

Some people never see, will never know
The one who does, and doesn’t seek to show

W3 Challenge this week: write a love sonnet to yourself.

Let this line guide you:

There is in you something that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in Yourself … that is the only true guide that you will ever have.— Howard Thurman (1899 – 1981)

For Christmas, my brother gave each of his surviving siblings a mug with a QR code on it. My QR code leads me to a trivia question each day. My sister gets the bird of the day. Another brother learns a little history from his. The gift-giving brother learns about an unusual creature each day. The other day his creature was a Sea-Pig:

This high definition video framegrab was taken from MBARI’s ROV “Doc Ricketts” aboard the R/V Western Flyer at a depth of approximately 1260 meters on March 9, 2010.

Scotoplanes globosa, commonly known as the sea pig, is a species of sea cucumber that lives in the deep sea. It is considered a detritivore, or something that eats detritus, decaying organic matter. These kinds of creatures are crucial to the ecosystem, but we seldom consider them.

Out of sight, out of mind.

They probably like it that way.

I know that I do

family · people · photography

Photos — 1964

Sally12 Comments

Soooo… I’m looking for challenges or prompts to inspire me.

You understand, right? I want to post on a regular basis, but the question is what to post!

Dawn, a blogger that I follow, posted a photo that she called Triptych Crop. Her photo reminded me of a photo I have on my desk (someday I’ll post a picture of it) that is from Varde, Denmark, circa 1900. It’s the kind of photo that pulls you in. I followed Dawn’s rabbit trail which led me to a photography challenge called Unusual Crop.

Well, after looking at 60+ year old photos of my brothers playing chess, I went back to that album and cropped photos of each of my siblings (and me) from that same time period. I don’t know if the crops are unusual, but here’s what’s left of the photos I cropped:

Stewart
Donabeth
Peter
Sally (me)
Jim

How did I do?

family · Life

A Story in Pictures

Sally1 Comment

I had put out a request asking for seniors who would be interested in playing games after school with the children who come to the facility where I work.

A man stopped in my office. “I’d like to teach kids to play chess,” he said.

He had a magazine that showed a large group of children playing chess on the cover.

“In a lot of places,” the man said, “kids start learning chess at the age of 6.”

I immediately thought of this series of photos of my two older brothers. It’s from 1963 or 64, which would mean my brothers were probably 6 and 9.

Can you tell who won?