When You’re Not Edna St. Vincent Millay

I’ve been at a loss for words the past two years. Besides my anger over still recovering from breaking my body tripping over a Lego, I’m angry and fearful over my government. The government that holds my country together. That complicated and beautiful woven tapestry of words and beliefs and hopes called our Constitution.

Sometimes you try cheering me up. But nothing cheers me up. I feel really devastated . I’m not a party person. I’m the best person for the job sort of person.

I’m just so pissed off. So pissed off. Do men cry when they are pissed off? Women do. I’m just so pissed off and scared. I really don’t handle not knowing very well.

So, I’m hoping that this will all be over by Monday and that impeachment hearings will begin  and life can continue as it was two years ago.   Sometimes magical thinking s a good thing.  Was life really better two years ago?  Really, I don’t remember.  It felt better.

Ellespeth

I Should Have Been A Country Song Writer

I spend a great deal of my time rooted in imaginings of past present moments. When I decide to put my work up on WordPress, I search the web for images that say something – I think anyway 😛 – about the poem/sometimes story.

Sometimes, I do flash fiction here on WordPress. Look at a photograph and write something about it in 100 words or less. I don’t do very well with those. I actually have a love/hate relationship with those.  Like doing a book report.

Then sometimes, like today, I walk by our kitchen table and see these tulips y,ou gave me yesterday, so beautifully wilted.  The present moment.  I take this picture thinking I could and will write a million words about these tulips one day. But they won’t be about tulips.

I’m making a healthy version of smothered round steak with onions and some kind of fancy frozen West Coast mushrooms that are way cheap frozen, and all the lettuce we didn’t use last week  – yum. What can I say? I’m a transplanted Southerner living in Silicon Valley. It’s Easter Sunday. Lent is OVER. Pig out marginally.

I should have been a country song writer. Those are really wonderful stories.

 

Gone Girl – Book Review (up to page 19)

I’m a mystery reader.  Started way back in my Nancy Drew days.  For some reason, I made a conscious decision not to read Gone Girl.  It seemed every book I’ve wanted to read, for the past few years, has been compared to Gone Girl.  Today, after reading that comparison yet once again, I’ve downloaded the damned book to my Kindle.

I’m on page 19.  We sit down to supper and discuss our day.  I’m telling you about the book and how I hate the sister’s nickname ‘Go’ – for Margo:

You:   Go is the present and gone is the past participle.

Me:   You have told me who the killer is!

You:   No I haven’t! I only commented on the grammar between the sister’s name and the title, and you inferred that she was the killer.

Me:   I did not, you did.

You:   I haven’t read the book.

Me:   I’m just on page 19 and you’ve already told me who the killer is.

Fini

He could be wrong, so I’ll keep reading the book.

Ellespeth 

Love vs An Earthquake Or Two – Journal Entry

 

Oh!  This photograph.  I was still living in New Orleans when this particular earthquake hit the Bay Area.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother trying to be sure we are ready for an earthquake or, god knows, what else. I spent my whole life, before I moved here, preparing for hurricanes or some sorta bomb catastrophe.

When I fell and injured myself last year and strangers came to live with us 24/7 to care for me and I didn’t have any effin control over my life, that wonderful emergency earthquake stash of food and clothes and water was put back into shelves and closets and other places I’m still discovering. The metal box, holding our important papers, was put into storage with the pots and pans. Why? Who knows? Because it’s metal maybe?

Who thinks about such things as earthguakes when one is dealing with healing bones and realizing that life is forever changed? Well, not us until this morning when..ooops…a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on around here.

I know. I know. Why the hell would I move from an area of the country where we have at least 8 hours to evacuate for a hurricane to a place where an earthquake can hit at any second?

Love.

So…we spent an hour or more today preparing, once again, for an earthquake. I feel better. If it comes while I am sleeping I have my clothes ready at the door. A couple days of water and canned goods. Meds for a couple of weeks. I’m still searching for my tarot card deck I use when I travel and my worry beads.

If we don’t die or a redwood tree doesn’t fall on our car so we can’t get away and if nothing else horrible  happens, we’re all set. That’s a comfort to me.

When I read this back to you and I came to the part about being prepared being a comfort to me, you said you finally understood why it was important to me to be ready for an emergency.

I’ve prepared for both of us and our birdies.  You will thank me when you’re feasting on smoked oysters and rye crackers 😛

Until some tomorrow,

Ellespeth