Yes, last year's Thanksgiving entry is back again since:
a. Now I don't have to come up with anything new
b. I might as well get a bit more use out of this poem.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Monday, November 24, 2014
Guerilla Cleaning
Nothing like having three chapters sent back to you by your
editor to be re-worked to drive a person to other pursuits.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Thanksgiving Countdown
As the designated Thanksgiving cook, I’ve done much, much
better this year at delegating food responsibility among the family. I’ve
managed to farm out the mashed potatoes, squash, salad, rolls, and two desserts
to others.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Which Intelligence are You?
Here is a brief run-down of Howard Gardener’s theory of various intelligences that I mentioned in the last post.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Family Smarts
Intelligence
was both taken for granted and prized in my family. We knew we were smart, even
if the evidence wasn't always immediately at hand.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Left in the Dust
Friday, November 14, 2014
Saga of Satchel
Words for Wednesday
Is a writing prompt that can be found at
Under the Porchlight
I’m a little
late, but how could I resist this week’s words, containing as they do
the name of a favorite cat?
Minute, aggrieved, instantaneous, burlap, satchel, purloined
(The true story of Satchel the cat.)
Empty laps, absent purrs had left us aggrieved
How could we solve this, could it ever be relieved?
It had been many months without creatures hirsute
And the places cats filled in our hearts not minute.
To the shelter we sallied, the hall filled with mews
To a cage in the corner, a source that would soothe.
In a nest of brown burlap, dark face and bright eyes.
Bond instantaneous, to my arms he did fly.
My heart was purloined as I held him that day
His bunkmate came with him, couldn’t leave him to stay.
For Satchel and Sidney ,
fresh air and soft laps
For us, years of contentment, just call us cat saps.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Protecting the Past
My Grandfather Walker's home in Sapulpa , Oklahoma was almost a 'shot gun' style
bungalow. When you entered through the front door, you came upon the first
room, and the remainder of the first floor unfolded, room by room, until you
reached the kitchen. The house was identical to the one next door, where my
great-grandmother Rundell had lived. When my grandparents married, she had had
the second house constructed and instructed my grandmother Mamie that she and
her new husband Don, a young Sapulpa lawyer, would be living there. Great-grandmother Rundell was a force to be reckoned with, but that's another story.
I
remember walking around that first room as a child. It was completely filled
with the type of bookcases you would find in a lawyer's office. The front of
each shelf was covered by wood-framed glass door that you would lower to
protect all those legal volumes from dust. Except my Grandfather Walker 's bookcases were not filled with
heavy leather-bound books of past cases. His had moccasins and beadwork and
best of all, rattlesnake tails. My grandfather collected Indian and Southwestern
artifacts.
After
my father died, the UPS man delivered a large cardboard box to my house in Massachusetts . I carried the box to the dining room
table, snipped the string, and cut open the tape. Underneath layers and layers
of the Washington Post was a huge buff-colored bowl. I lifted it out and placed
it on the table. It was a foot and a half high and about the same in diameter at
its widest, rising to travel back in slightly to a wide neck with a lip. The
outside was decorated with faded black geometric designs and occasional accents
of deep russet. It was a Zuni Indian bowl and this bowl had not seen life from
the safety of a shelf. Its worn edge and soft colors said it had been used on a
daily basis, perhaps to hold corn or grain.
It
sat in my living room for years on a low shelf under a window. I enjoyed
looking at it and thinking of my Oklahoma roots and my grandfather’s room of wonder. Then two things happened. First, while
watching an episode of Antiques Roadshow
I learned the worth of a similar bowl, not quite as large as mine. Second, my daughter produced three
rambunctious sons.
Our
Zuni bowl now lives a quiet retired life on my bedroom dresser.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Monday, November 10, 2014
Random Monday
Even with my
almost-nonexistent math skills, I believe if someone could tell me exactly how
many individual leaves I’ve raked, blown, and toted this fall I’d finally
understand the meaning of one million.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Proximity
Today’s
poem in The Writer’s Almanac, “Husband” by Philip Schultz, set a few thoughts
in motion for me today.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Monday, November 3, 2014
Completely Random Monday Musings
Have you ever thought about what someone inevitably says as he‘s
standing there on a stage, a beaming dignitary having just handed him a medal
or trophy or plaque?
“This is such an
honor.”
Well, yeah, it is, but isn’t it tacky to point that out?
Rather than commenting on how humbled he is, how undeserving, he’s saying:
“Hey! This is a big honor, and look! I'm the one who got it!
#
We have stubborn shrubbery.
Yes, our maples turn a stunning banana yellow, our tiny
Japanese maple is a shifting to a deeper red, and the sumac is gorgeous even if it
is basically a weed.
In yards across our area everyone’s Burning Bush is doing
just that – transforming from just another green bush, indistinguishable from
any other bush, into a thing of beauty, blazing scarlet in the sunshine.
Ours – nope.
Every year it obstinately digs its roots deeper in the
ground and refuses to turn.
It will sit there, bright green and losing nary a leaf as
though the calendar says August instead of November. Not until everything
around it is reduced to bare twigs will it condescend to change color. Then it
will grudgingly turn a stunning red and then drop all its leaves after about 48 hours.
What a primadonna.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Scariest Halloween E v e r
There I was, in
Waynesville Missouri , only one
month into post-teenagerdom, and any family I had was five states away. It was
Halloween and I was alone in a motel room and there was a knock on my door.
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