Tag: SoCS

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Blather · collage · Writing

Finish My Limerick – Y

Sally16 Comments

There once was a snail named Yoda
Whose slime was a written code(ah)
“In the goo, my words are —
Crunch me not, oh large car”

YES! The finish line is in sight!

I feel like I’ve been running a marathon.

Or maybe a biathlon.

Or triathlon.

The multi-event races are probably a better depiction of my month of April.

So. Many. Things.

I chose to participate in the A-to-Z Challenge — which involved posting through the month of April using a different letter of the alphabet for each day. April 1 was A. Today, April 29 is Y. For the challenge, I chose to write four lines of a limerick and ask my readers to finish the limerick.

Like an idiot, I thought, I’ll collage every day, too. A collage to go with each unfinished limerick I post.

Each collage takes time.

And they started to feel forced.

For me, art needs to kind of happen.

When I sit down to intentionally create something, it generally looks like crap. BUT, when I sit down and start to play with the various images I’ve already cut out, something different happens. I suppose, it could still look like crap, but the process is definitely more satisfying.

Take my superglued tiara princess of yesterday. Here’s the process of how she came to be:

  • The letter X. I searched for names that begin with X. When I saw Xaviera, I thought of a tiara. That was the seed.
  • I looked through what I had with princesses and tiaras, but all those darn tiaras were sitting firmly entrenched on the princesses’ heads —
  • SUPER GLUE! — Actually, I thought of Ramona Quimby making a crown for herself out of burdocks. I remember reading that to my kids and KNOWING that had I thought of that at age 8, I would most certainly have done it.
  • From there, I went to the idea of princess whose crown kept slipping, and like Ramona, didn’t think through the consequences of her solution.
  • Where would the princess be after that? I suppose she would have gone to see the royal physician to get it removed. I found a picture that I could use as background for a doctor’s office.
  • I labeled the blank tube “Super Glue.” Sure she would have brought the tube with her to show the doctor.
  • I labeled the book Stupid Things We Do. I wanted to write Stupid Things People Do but didn’t have enough space. Surely the royal physician would have had to pull out a book like that for a reference before he tackled the problem at hand.

Today’s limerick proved to be a problem because once I settle on Yoda, I wanted to use Yoda-speak, but my mind couldn’t twist the words around appropriately. I felt like I was in a yoga class with pretzel people.

So anyway — this month I had those two things going on — limericks and collages — and then life kept happening, too.

Work — busy, busy, busy.

Church — must write the minutes to a meeting that happened two weeks ago!

Taxes were in the middle of the month — yes, I procrastinated.

The grass is growing — must figure out my mowing dilemma.

Life keeps chugging along.

The good news is that two things will finish up tomorrow — limericks and collages.

This blather has been brought to you by Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Blather · collage

Finish My Limerick – S

Sally10 Comments

There once was a woman named Sally
Who dreamed of going to Denali
Or to the moon
In a hot air balloon

To be honest, I don’t dream of going to Denali. Two of my children have been there and I guess it’s pretty amazing, but, for whatever reason, it doesn’t make my top ten

Top ten places I want to visit — off the top of my head, of course, because today is Saturday and I try to do Stream of Consciousness blather writing. Today’s prompt: scene. Each of these places is scenic. Does that count?

  1. Scotland — I could easily break it down into a bunch of places.
    • Edinburgh
    • The Shetlands
    • The Highlands
    • The Borders
    • The Western Isles — specifically Iona to see the abbey
  2. Cornwall — especially the Coastal Path
  3. Nice — I’ve been reading about Matisse and I really want to visit the Matisse Museum (Musée Matisse)
  4. Copenhagen — yes, I’ve been there, but I want to go again. Same for the next three:
  5. Fjords in Norway
  6. Bosnia
  7. Dubrovnik
  8. Rome — I hear there’s a little history there.
  9. Jerusalem
  10. The Great Wall of China

What a wacky list, right? Some are sites, some are cities, and some are countries. Some I’ve been to, some I never have, some I never will.

How about you? What’s on your list of places to see?

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Blather · collage

Finish My Limerick – M

Sally7 Comments

There once was a man named Moveable
(I’ve seen his grave — so that’s proveable)
He never settled down
’til he was six feet underground

Ah, Saturday — aka Blatherday — time for my weekly monologue of nothing but blather.

To the best of my knowledge, Moveable Jones does NOT exist.

I recently got back the results of my ancestry DNA and found that I have a distant relative named Experience. That just got me thinking about unusual names.

Can you imagine holding a wee newborn baby in your arms and naming him or her Experience? (For the record, it was a her.) Was the thought going through the new parents’ minds, Whoa! That was an experience! ? Or, was it more of a prayer/blessing — Please, Lord, let this new little person experience life in all the very best ways?

I have a friend who, on giving birth to baby number six or seven, said the midwife announced the sex of the baby and asked if they had a name picked out. She looked at her husband and asked, “Do we?” He replied, “Dewey. Hmm — hadn’t thought about that name.”

This was the same dad who also wanted to give one of his children the middle name “Longtoes” because the child was born with — you can probably guess — long toes. The mom nixed that one, although I think it could have been a great conversation starter.

I read about Experience in my family tree and had a thousand questions. What was she called for short? Experience is quite a mouthful when calling someone in for dinner, or scolding someone when they didn’t do their chores. Also, that’s a long name for a tombstone. Did she like the name? Did she consider naming a child the same thing? Or had she learned from — oh, never mind.

But, Moveable. The stories I could make up. A mom giving birth while part of a wagon train in the mid-1800’s, looking at the newborn and saying, “I’m sure glad you’re moveable.” And it took.

Or, a family living through one of those droughts that wreaked havoc on settlers. The child was born. The mom or dad looked out the window at tumbleweed blowing past, and said to the baby, “May you grow up to live anywhere but this God-forsaken place,” and assigned him the moniker.

Or how about a flood situation — where the family has to get out quickly before, during, or after the birth.

All the stories I can think of involve a family in a tough situation, right?

Some wealthy estate owner would never name a child Moveable. They would give him four or five names to signify the depth of the family roots. John James Michael Henry the third or fourth or fifth. Longtoes would never be suggested.

My children follow the traditional pattern: first name, middle name, last name. The names are mostly run-of-the-mill. No strange spellings or made-up names. No adjective names. Just names that I loved for one reason or another.

One daughter complains about her “old” name. “Everybody has a grandmother or great-aunt with my name,” she has told me. For the record, I had a grandmother with that name.

Two sons go by middle names instead of their first names — and that’s on me. We gave them their names, but chose to call them by their middle name. Don’t ask me why. I think I know, but whatever.

Do you have any good name stories?

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Blather · collage

Finish My Limerick – G

Sally23 Comments

There once was a guy named Greg
Who had a thing on his leg
(A thing??! Please explain!)
Well, it was kind of arcane –

According to Merriam-Webster, arcane means “known or knowable to only a few people: SECRET”

Kind of makes you wonder about Greg’s leg, right?

Today is Saturday — Blather-day — the day of the week when I give myself permission to blather away about whatever nonsense pops into my head using Linda Hill’s Stream-of-Consciousness writing prompt. This week it’s: “starts with gen.” Find a word that starts with “gen” and use it in your post. 

The first word that came to mind when I read the prompt was generative because one of my sons had recently used it in a conversation multiple times. I didn’t want to sound foolish and say, “I’m not sure I know what that means.” I could guess what it means, based on context and possible root words, but I could still be totally wrong.

Like arcane. Until I looked up the definition, I would have defined it more along the lines of archaic, which means old, old-fashioned, or not in common use anymore. And I would have been wrong.

I’m glad I looked it up.

Which I did after I stuck in a limerick because it rhymed.

Well, that, plus I genuinely wanted to know what it meant.

Honestly, I could guess at generative. Something to do with growth or new growth or inspiring new growth?

[now leaving stream-of-consciousness writing to look up generative.]

Merriam-Webster says: : having the power or function of generating, originating, producing, or reproducing. I wasn’t too far off.

Do you ever do that? Think you know what a word means, look it up and you’re wrong? Or, think you know what a word means, look it up and you’re right? Or, think you know what a word means and don’t look it up? Or, hear a word you don’t know and don’t ask or look it up because …. I don’t know!

Gosh, it’s so easy to look up meanings of words these days. I looked up generative on Google to get my above definition, but I just asked Siri what generative means — which took me all of 2 seconds — and she gave me a pretty thorough definition. Right on my phone! I don’t know why I didn’t do it immediately after I first heard the word.

I will need someone to explain to me that second definition. Or give me examples. That one means nothing to me.

I think it’s an arcane definition.

Like the thing on Greg’s leg — which is what I’m most curious about today. What do you think it is?

A to Z Blogging Challenge · collage

Finish My Limerick — A

Sally24 Comments

There once was a woman named Annie
Whose sense of smell was uncanny
One day she was frantic –
What she smelled was GIGANTIC
(__here’s where you write your line____)

Blather

For those just stopping in, allow me to explain. For 2023, I’ve tried to post 23 words – exactly 23 words – every day. However, Saturdays have become blather-days when I write an unlimited amount of words. It’s like being on a diet and giving yourself one free day each week.

Also on Saturdays, I try to use the Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness prompt, which this week is “‘antic.’ Use it as a word or find a word that contains it.“

AND, for April, I’m doing the A-to-Z Challenge. I plan to write the first four lines of a limerick every day and leave the last one for the readers to finish.

Lastly, I hope to post a collage that may or may not go with the limerick. You decide.

Whew! That feels like a lot to fit into one post! Blather, antic, limerick (today’s letter: A), and a collage.

I read a post yesterday from someone else participating in the A-to-Z Challenge. She had nearly finished all her posts for the month! So impressive. So not me. I’ve written seven limericks, but even the one for today I had to edit to fit in -antic words.

I’ve also done a few collages ahead of time. That Matisse quote from the other day is one I need to frame. I ordered this collage magazine called Kolaj and leafed through it. My collages in no way look like the collages in the magazine.

I feel like many of the collage artists are trying to make a statement. Their art is edgy. I often refer to mine as kitschy, but maybe whimsical is a better word.

Is kitsch art? I suppose. It’s just not considered good art — which in my head I translate into “real” art.

Other poets considered poetry by Robert W. Service (author of The Cremation of Sam McGee and a gazillion other entertaining story-poems) to be doggerel. (Doggerel definition from Merriam Webster: loosely styled and irregular in measure especially for burlesque or comic effect. also : marked by triviality or inferiority). Doggerel is the poetry equivalent of kitsch.

I happen to love story poems AND Robert W. Service poems. I’ve written poetry like that.

So my poetry is doggerel and my art is kitsch.

Meh. If I like it, does it really matter?

Now help me out — go finish my limerick for me!

A to Z Blogging Challenge · Blather · Life

A-to-Z Theme

Sally7 Comments

There was an occasional blogger
Who was something of a slogger
She decided to see
If she could go A-to-Z
Using finish-my-limerick fodder

It looks like I missed the Theme Reveal for the A-to-Z Challenge. I read March 12-18 as INCLUDING March 18 — which is today. When I went to the site though, it said that the theme reveal was closed.

I’m learning to take these things in stride.

Seriously, does it really matter? Does anyone really care what my theme is?

The older I get, the more I realize how few things there are that really matter.

The self-portrait exercise (from my Lenten devotional) was meant to force an eye to the basics, to the things that really matter. My 15-second self-portrait could have been drawn by any child who recognizes those basics: eyes, nose, mouth, hair.

In my room, I often stare at the row of portraits that my parents had done of their five children. The boys are all looking off to the right. My sister and I are looking at the artist. Mine is the only one with a tilt to the head.

I do that still — tilt my head. When I realize it, I upright it. I like to think, though, that the head tilt is a listening posture. Listening, and trying to understand. I do that, too.

The Stream of Consciousness Saturday word is “tape.” In my room, I often also stare at the many things I have taped here and there. On the back of the door. On the wall. I even have something taped on a piece of artwork to cover a place it’s damaged and to remind of a poem that the picture brings to mind.

Tape is a handy-dandy thing.

Back to my theme-reveal. I realized that limericks neatly fit the 23 word limit I’ve given myself most days. Especially if I let YOU finish it. Also, there’s no ache in writing a limerick. They’re light and silly. I have enough struggles in my days that I thought, maybe a month of silly — with an occasional collage thrown in — would be fun.

So starting April 1, I’ll post the first four lines of a limerick, and you can tape your answer on to finish it. The A-to-Z part will be the name of the person in the limerick. For example, “A” might begin “There once was a man named Arnold” — but I can’t really think of anything that rhymes with Arnold, can you?

And even though I missed the theme reveal, I’m revealing it today, because, you know, it doesn’t really matter. Right?

Travel

As I was going…

Sally7 Comments

As I was going to Virginny, I met a Mat who was quite skinny.
Upon each hand, he wore a mitt.
Upon each mitt, a mot* was writ.
Within each mot, there was a mutt.
Inside each mitt, a hand was put.
Met. Mat. Mitt-mot-mutt.
This may mean something; I know not what.

*My new word for the day — MOT (pronounced ˈmō ). It’s short for “Bon Mot” or a pithy saying.

Here’s a mot with a mutt in it:

A mutt is couture-it’s the only one like it in the world, made especially for you.

Isaac Mizrahi

I’m a little punchy after a long day of driving yesterday. I worked 5am – 11 am, then left my house a little after noon to drive to youngest-daughter’s college where I was meeting up with oldest-daughter who was driving with me to visit middle-daughter. Got that?

I think the sun was out when I left home. After collecting daughter #1, we drove off in the snow. “Winter Advisory” signs flashed at us all along I-81.

And I had opted to drive first. Ugh.

It was slushy sloppy slippery slow driving for about 4 hours. Shortly after she took over driving, the weather and the road cleared.

I dozed.

A lot.

We didn’t meet a single Mat, skinny or otherwise. (Side note: I really do know a Mat with one “t”) No mitts, no mots, no mutts. But that was the prompt given for Stream of Consciousness Saturday: mat/met/mitt/mot/mutt.

All I could think about was going to St. Ives.

For those of you not familiar with the St. Ives riddle, here it is:

Blather · collage

The Obliviousness of Tigger

Sally8 Comments

The other day I was trying to explain to someone my artistic process. It was an odd conversation from the get-go because I don’t consider myself an artist and I don’t know what my process is.

“The collages happen,” I said. “I start cutting out pictures not really knowing what the final piece will be. Somewhere along the line, it takes a turn and I’m looking for specifics. For backgrounds or animals or people. It’s like shopping for a gift for someone you love; I know it when I see it.”

Today the Stream of Consciousness writing prompt is “wild animal.” I knew immediately what wild animal I wanted to do — a tiger. I had been to the zoo a few weeks ago with my granddaughter. The tiger there fascinated me.

It was so beautiful and huge and sad, pacing back and forth along the fence at the far side of its enclosure. Padding, padding, padding, down and back, its huge paws silent and powerful.

I read the explanation at the zoo about how tigers are losing their natural habitats to human expansion. According to the World Wildlife Fund, they have lost 95% of their historical range. They are also poached and their body parts traded.

We “save” them by putting them in zoos.

So tigers — for a collage. I cut out half a dozen of them last night, then sat down this morning to create my collage.

My favorite tiger didn’t make the cut.

I mean — he made the cut from the book, a beat-up scribbled in copy of Where is Christopher? by Anne Lawrence. He didn’t make the cut for the collage. Tigger, however, did.

Oblivious Tigger. Goofy smile. Happy-go-lucky. Oh, the wonderful thing about Tiggers, right?

I think his obliviousness is less about the danger from the tiger and more about the greater plight of the tiger, don’t you think?

It would be so easy to extrapolate this to humans. We are oblivious to the plights of our fellow human beings.

It would be so easy to jump on a soapbox about this, but I will be the first to admit my own obliviousness and my ignorance.

It feels like too much for me to take on.

I will pad back and forth in my enclosure.

And pray.

Lord, help me to see.

Blather · collage

A Sunflower from Maggie

Sally12 Comments

In 2022, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston decommissioned this piece by Georgia O’Keeffe and sold it at auction to benefit acquisitions for the museum. However, it fell short of the $6-8 million estimate of what it would bring in, selling for a mere $4.8 million.

I heard on the news the other day that Manchester United, the soccer team, was for sale. The price was in the billions. $4.5 billion? $5 billion? $8 billion? I can’t fathom numbers that high.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the price of eggs.

Mimic the master attempt #2 — I tried to make a collage version of “A Sunflower from Maggie.”

This will not win a prize. Every time I try to collage I learn something from my frustrations.

  1. Glue stick is sticky, messy, and dries too quickly.
  2. Mod-Podge is sticky, messy, and makes the paper buckle and curl.
  3. Art requires infinite patience — and I’m sadly lacking.
  4. Art requires time — and I’m sadly lacking that too. I’m surrounded by far more important things I should be doing, but I’m stuck. So I cut up books. Sheesh.
  5. Prestigious artists earn their prestige. I doubt anyone just wakes up one morning and starts creating masterful art. It takes practice, time, patience, and maybe some Mod-Podge and glue sticks.

When I look at other collage-art, it’s very different from mine which makes me think I’m not doing it right.

But it’s mine.

And I like it.

Sometimes.

Blather · collage · Februllage

House, Home, Property

Sally7 Comments

In America the word “home” is a synonym for “house“; it is a traveling concept, one which you carry around with you — your home is wherever you happen to be living. One might speak of a “development of new homes” in America; in England, such a phrase would be nonsensical, because a house, in England, is merely a “house”; “home” is an altogether broader concept, implying rootedness and long residence.

Ruth Brandon, A Capitalist Romance (1977)

I guess I’m not as American as I thought.

My parents bought an old farm in 1967. At that point in my life, I had lived on four different army bases and I have memories from two of them. My roots, however, are here, on this piece of property.

And they are deep.

When I first heard the concept of “thin places” — that Celtic-Christian idea of physical locations where the distance between heaven and earth is barely perceptible — I immediately thought of this place, from the river to the crest of the hill, where I am rooted and from which I draw strength.

It goes beyond my parents’ property. It’s this community, the streets in this town, the shores of this lake. It’s the seasons here — the rain, the snow, the blaze of color in autumn, the long days of summer, the short days of winter. It’s the fog that covers the road some mornings. It’s the whitetail deer. It’s the peepers in spring.

I move away. I come back. I move away. I come back. I’m here to stay.

“I worry about you,” my sister said to me the other day, “all alone in that big house.”

No, no — don’t worry about me.

I’m home.