Wednesday, October 22, 2014

How much stuff can you stuff in your brain before it all becomes one mass of memories?

It is a fabulous day today, I was going to write. And it is - it is rainy, and windy and damp and just a little dreary. Even with all the wind and rain and drear I sit here at my desk without any need for artificial light.

I was going to write about how, even tho I NEED sunlight and sunshine, sometimes it can be too much. Floating in my brain I hear  even sunshine can be...[something or other]. What is it from? I google several variations of the phrase and finally, ahh, finally, I find what I am looking for.

I have a copy of this poem cut from a newspaper some 20 years ago but that was not the first time I had read it... oh no, I probably came across it a decade before that, at least. I remember exactly where I was when I first read it...but no matter. It only matters that I have it tucked in a file in my desk and in a file on my computer - 20 years of safe-keeping.

Now some might say this poem is hokey or sentimental or trite or...something else cynical.  But there are certain girls and certain women (for surely in 1994 at age 48 I could no longer be called a girl) that need this poem. They need it the first time their heart is love-broken and every time after that. They need it when middle-aged and life has taken a nasty turn or two; they need it when death has interrupted the love that really was love. So many times in a woman's life when this poem will be a reminder, a comfort, a lesson and sometimes just good advice in the interim.

I was going to just put a link for the poem but decided to copy it here instead...It still means a lot to me, it gave me comfort when that was needed and a smack in the head when that was needed, and now,  while I am holding steady in an interim, it reminds me of those times when it was needed but more importantly when it was heeded.
After a While
by Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn
The subtle difference between
Holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
That kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes ahead
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child
And you learn
To build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is
Too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way
Of falling down in mid flight
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers
And you learn
That you really can endure
That you are really strong
And you really do have worth
And you learn and you learn
With every good bye you learn.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Wind, Wings and Eyes

I got a thing for certain things. Perhaps that should be a passion. I love wind - it is freedom and flying and wings. I've written about the wind. And then there are eyes - I've written about them too.

Something about a cat's eyes - and I never notice until I see them in a photograph.  I did not add any color to Frankie's eyes - I just adjusted everything else...


Sunday, October 19, 2014

And now for something completely different - The Larch

Well, no - not a larch. My mind just flashed on Monty Python while I was trying to think of a post title.

Saturday the wind was gusting with gusto which is why this picture seems a little fuzzy...


I tried to get some video because whee-ooo that wind was tossing the trees around but the wind, like the cats, stopped doing its thing as soon as I whipped out the camera. I did manage to get a few seconds - look at the trees in the back...

Saturday, October 18, 2014

I've never attached any particular significance

to balloons - they were just kinda fun. I wanted to write about the significance/symbolism of balloons but my research put me off that subject. I didn't realize balloons could be so depressing. Whatever you do, do NOT dream about balloons - no good can come of it.

One of my birthday presents was a balloon and it made me, my husband and Miss Frankie very happy. Why? Because the balloon was square!

A square balloon - Sa-weet!


(Since it has come up in the comments - here is a link to the symbolism of balloons in dreams.)

Friday, October 17, 2014

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

What do you call your table?

I call mine Louise...

Because there is nothing very stressful in my life, other than having 2 miniscule bathrooms and having to share a community laundry room, I find my mind meanders and then settles on the damnedest things. Such as - what do I call my table.

I grew up in a house with what is now called a 'formal dining room' and an 'eat-in kitchen'.  Therefore we had a dining room table, big, bulky, formal with matching chairs, a huge buffet and some other kind of cabinet, that if it had a formal name, I don't recall it. In the kitchen was a table, smaller, butcher block I think, with an odd assortment of chairs.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner was had at the kitchen table. Sunday dinners and holiday dinners were had at the dining room table. Homework was mostly done at the dining room table - it was bigger and, as I recall, as time passed the dining room table was used more often than the kitchen table - for every thing.

I haven't lived anywhere since then that had both a dining room and an eat-in kitchen - it was one or the other. The house in Philadelphia had an 'open concept' first floor, our apartment now has an L-shaped living room/dining area layout with the dining area in the short part of the L.

When I lived in places with a dining room I referred to the table in that space as the 'dining room' table; when I lived in places where there was only an eat-in kitchen the table was referred to as the 'kitchen' table. In all cases this was the only  table so it served all purposes a table could serve.

Sometimes the table was rustic and sometimes the table was a bit more formal and elegant. Right now we have an 'elegant' table in our 'dining area' that we bought last year and we are soon to have new chairs to go around it. No, not a matched set - I don't do matched sets. So what do I call the chairs? Dining room chairs? Dining table chairs?  And how to refer to the one and only table in the house - dining room table, dining table?

I find myself using the old kitchen table label - which it isn't because it isn't in the kitchen and it is much nicer than a kitchen table. Ha. But then it isn't a dining room table because, strictly speaking, it is not in a dining room.

And if I call my table Louise, then what shall I call my chairs?


(This is such shallow silliness - living the good life I am when what to call a table is paramount in my idle thoughts.)