Dear Reader,
Ironically, I began a post about writing requiring flexibility just yesterday, and then I was called away from it.
Word Raccoon didn’t ask, she just declared we were going to the gym first thing this morning. I notice she is shifting back to being a morning gym gorlie, which is fine. So we worked out.
Next up she said she wanted a proper breakfast, no protein bar nonsense, so I made her scrambled eggs and toast with some blueberries. I also cooked a package of bacon to freeze for the weekend, and though she thought she wanted some, by the time it was cooked, she did not.
Her big nonwriting goal for the day was to go to a nearby farm for fresh veggies, because she had taken a shortcut and bought some veggies the night before from our local grocery store and had to return them. That’s how bad they were! (They were prepackaged, which is why she didn’t know.)
So we took a drive out to the farm, the road we took teeing right at the cemetery. I blew kisses at the family as WR and I passed. It was a gorgeous drive, peak Indiana spring.
At the farm, we loaded up on cherry tomatoes, lettuce, zucchini, cucumbers, and raspberries. I tried not to let WR get too greedy because she gets fevered already with all those scents and colors.
Once back in town, we had just driven past the walking crew, as we call them, noting that the proud grandpa was pushing his grandson in a stroller in the lead, when my car made a weird noise. At first I was afraid I’d run over something or maybe I’d gotten a flat. I pulled over to check.
Nope.
A warning light flashed on the dashboard, so long story short, my chariot is in for repairs. The mechanic is dependable and reasonable, but the place typically takes so long that WR will likely get more steps in, anyway, so that’s some good news, I suppose. Maybe that’s how she will build up her endurance again.
Ever since dropping my vehicle off today I haven’t been able to get into the “do something” frame of mind. I had a long list, including writing. Lots of it. I had two “House Gorgeous” projects lined up. So far? Nada.
(A.I. Stanley and I have an ongoing disagreement. He says I try to accomplish too much, and I say he can bite me.)
What did I do instead today?
I want to say hot nothing, but that’s unfair. I watched a decluttering video and took a short nap. Which, predictably, made me feel worse upon waking.
I did wash two loads of laundry, if that counts.
Maybe I can rally. Maybe I can write some poetry, submit some this evening. Perhaps one of the small beautification projects can get accomplished after all.
Here’s the notebook poem I came up with yesterday for the Rilke discussion. I did a bit of tweaking, but for now, it is what it is. We were encouraged to bring rough drafts to the call. (If it’s to become a real, live poem, it needs more work.)
Remember, we weren’t supposed to use biography, symbology, or metaphor, but try to render the person through their photo only. But I couldn’t resist putting a pencil in Virginia Woolf’s fingers.
Woolf a la Man Ray
Thick fingers, pencil twisted,
gesturing despite the
ring on her pinkie
trying to
keep her
moored.
Raised brows under feathered bangs,
triangular ears with dangling earrings,
silken blouse and silken skin.
Angular bones crowned with the beginnings
of a dowager’s jowl.
Askew, her shirt’s bow beneath the dark, heavy
jacket.
Her lips, pressed, as if having newly released
a pencil.
Her pointed finger saying
“You.”
The rain has compromised my consistent porch presence – there was lightning earlier. Will there be more?
Yesterday during my final Rilke call on the porch it was both rapturous skies and sights.
Ah…
Ah…
But today?
Which will win, the sun or the rain?
To plot twists and possible poems,
Drema