Humanity

I have a day off.

Except for one lacrosse game, which will be the only one of his I have seen all year. So I’m in it, fully. I actually enjoy lacrosse, its so much like hockey, so violent. (i don’t know anything about hockety, honestly, but i know sticks are used as bats and they are allowed to slam into each other. lacrosse is like that.) If my kid were small, I’d be terrified. As it is, he gets battered. Something about males, I know. but god, its so peculiar how much they love it.

And maybe its a female thing, that I sit and am okay with the brutality, from afar. I can deal with the aftermath just fine, and the distance allows me to feel safe that I am not involved. Weird, right?

So, on this day off, which is sort of sprung on me by my own inability to keep going, I have woken groggy from a night with a ceaselessly barking dog. As I am mostly deaf, you can imagine what a racket he was making. A herd of gazelle? A pack of coyotes? Coven of squirrels? I have no idea. It was forever. Anyhow, I am not feeling the joy of an opportunity day before me. I’m just tired and i suppose, a little grumpy.

I’m supposed to finish up a writing project today. I’d be satisfied with four thousand words. I need to move the story along substantially. But. So far I have made coffee. I have broken the lawnmower in a fairly substantially way, but only after finishing the front. So from the street, I look like I’m handling things just fine. It works for passers by, and it works for me. Its satisfying to drive in and see a little neatness. I’m going to try and fix it soon. wish me someone else’s luck.

I haven’t got final numbers from the plant sale yet, but I’ll be happy to have cash in hand. Maybe I’ll buy some chickens. ? I need to figure out the fencing situation though, I can’t let them free-range anymore, they are getting eat and hit and its just too much. (more brutality). I wish I could let them wander, as they really decimate the tick population. And I hate worrying about going out into grass. My god, this world.

(yeah, no, ticks are not the bigger problems i think we need to worry about. just to be clear.)

also. my washing machine doesn’t feel like spinning. so the clothing is sopping wet. and i need one of those wringers my grandmother used to have. where does one get a wringer these days, aye?

also. i know we all like johnny depp but why do we feel so glib about assuming he is not an abuser? seems like a popularity thing going on right now. its so weird and is making me feel very funny about the whole thing. haven’t we learned anything at all?

sigh. (does this count as writing if i bore several people right to death’s door?)

grayscale photography of front load washers
Photo by Adrienne Andersen on Pexels.com

Humanity

Momadriver

Dromedary?

Yes, same thing.

Yesterday all three needed to be picked up at the same time in three different places. One, in another town. At the last minute, literally, their dad calls and asks if I need help. (it is his night that night so he’s in town-ish) I send him to pick up the farthest away who just called saying he’s hiding in a shed to keep out of the wind. Go get that one, fella.

All was well. Next week, things will have adjusted, and others will be involved. Certainly.

Surely.

Because i’m in the middle of a cycle of ‘toomuch’. I have perfect mom hours and I get home and I drive for the next three hours and then make dinner and then I fall down dead. I’m full of busy and the downtime I have is filled with lethargy, television and scrolling.

Even when the kids are gone, and the house is quiet, I am struggling to find my way to my space. I’ve added meditation minutes to each day, and plants, lots and lots of plants. I need to go put a chair in there. Maybe i should meditate in the plants. kill two birds and whatnot.

See? Even the meditation and beauty-hunting get multitasked to death.

Multitasking is the devil.

One of my jobs is bossed by a woman who has one million things running through her brain, as most farmers do. But the threads between the items, tying them into a web of ‘done’ have pulled loose. (my description, not hers) So things get left undone all the time. And, not in a way that is hurting her or her business, its just how she’s developed her system, running it solo as she does. And she knows what to prioritize, and ‘finished’ can be an unnecessary goal. Sometimes I dream of sneaking in and finishing all the things I’ve left behind, not even for her, just for me, so I can rest easier.

The great luxury of time and a slow-moving brain is that you can focus on one thing, beat it to death, revive it and send it on its way.

(hollah to the easter story, unintentional, and no blasphemy intended.)

But the release, the ‘send it on its way’ is part of the story. And, in oblique reference to the above hollah, its probably the most important part. Right? For living on…?

my brain is not slow, this i know. but man, I am missing the time to let it leap. Ask me to pick forty-five perfect nasturtium blossoms in under five minutes and I’m on it. But getting into writing, or letting my mind wander over a keyboard is so much more difficult to fit into a five minute block. And there’s kids here quite often, and I’m responsive mostly. And I haven’t figured out how to give myself a way to write each day yet. Its been since January that I’ve been working all week. . . And Now its the end of MARCH, and is this my IDES, I ask you, is this my torment?!

I know i’m whining, and I’m more irritated than you are, i swear.

I’m here. There’s my big plant sale in May, a thing that will finish… and I think my brain will be more interwoven after that. My house will be less full of plants, and maybe my fingers will run for more clicketyclack. I’m hoping so. Deeply.

I’m leaving you with a photo of what goes on the compost heap. Truly amazing. So, I want you to think about this, (she says also to herself),

when you are focused on a perfect blossom, maybe you should be focused on the perfect dirtpile. when you are focused on finishing, maybe a focus could be on starting.

what the hell man?

Purple pansies in a compost heap.
Humanity

Again, covid.

Here we are, face to face, a couple of silver spoons.

There is no logic to why I just recalled that lyric from the opening to a ricky schroeder show from the 80s. Evidently, he is a bit of a dick. go figure. i digress.

Neither do i feel much logic in the way the cold-like covid has returned to my family nest. Just one, so far, this time. But we will see. There are two of the four of us vaccinated here now, so will the story be different this time? Hm.

I don’t know. I surrender to the gods of eighties teen sitcoms. I do not know.

I think I’m close to speechless though. So, there is that novelty.

I’ll come back soon, most likely.

sigh.

  • lovelove
Flea market finds. photo by kate @unwifedmotherexpletive
Humanity

FLIP FLAP, Zombie Mom scuffle.

A list, and a lot of mind-flakes.

  1. I hate Putin. I cannot understand. I heard a guy on tv saying america is weak but supporting him by buying oil. this from the same citizen-base who blames gas prices on presidents. I’m so confused by the way people look at things. I just cannot understand any of this and my heart is broken for a mindset that says its okay to destroy a nation, for any reason at all. What the fuck.
  2. I don’t watch tv news. But I get suckered by what shows up on my computer screen sometimes. Flickering light of doom.
  3. I am having a hard time with my brain. Adjusting to life outside of my house is proving much more difficult than I’d imagined. (i mean, realistically, not hard, but listen..) I’ve spent most of sixteen years completely at-home. Time moves differently here. There were jobs, small ones. There was and is, a pandemic. Time and space give my brain an elasticity that goes away when everything is rush and hurry. The scheduling of my life has taken a new, more powerful role and yes, i can adjust. I keep bumping into these speed bumps though, and i fall off the road. For instance, I don’t take a lunch at any of these jobs, because what? lose money? no. So, i arrive home around 2 or 2:30 without having had food. I’m not good at feeding myself, and the kids are home and so i forget. So, I’m derailing around 4, moving automatically but not well, and thinking about making dinner or preparing it, and then suddenly its taxitime or bedtime, and i haven’t written, haven’t done a single thing for my inner world, and goddamnit. Its a problem.
  4. Zombie mom is not a good mom.
  5. I’m having a giant plant sale in May. Snapdragons, pansies, sunflowers, nasturtium, you name it, come and buy it. Me. All me. And both my farmers are trying to help me and dude, nothing is planted yet. How does one wrap one’s brain around so much potential and possible disaster all at once? I do not know. I’m sometimes freaking out.
  6. Zombie mom is not a good mom.
  7. I’m starting another refinance process. I’m starting my taxes. They both feel just as good as each other. Skunks with porcupine quills. Imagine that.
  8. Hi, and I’m sorry I haven’t written more. Believe me.
From awhile ago, but goddamnit. I own this post. Here I am.

Humanity

Drastic Times, and shoes on the wrong feet.

Okay. I did it. I cancelled my two dating apps and I am absolutely jonesing for the ping of the phone. JONESING.

the ways in which the random ping can make you think of possibility and romance and dreamy? Oh. yes, sex and titillation, it is all in there. and perhaps i’ve been needing the dopamine hit of a like, a shot of ‘what if?’ once and again.

i’ve been telling myself i can go back to it whenever i want, no pressure. but i’ve already noticed i’ve been less attached to the phone.

honestly, i need some quiet time. the kids were here with me in a way that felt like every day all day and we managed and now they go to school this coming tuesday and my brain is feeling cluttered. very cluttered, as if i haven’t done a sweep in a week, and the dust bunnies and hairdevils are taking over, the world blurry with softness that still manages to be disgusting.

blech.

i’m out of mac and cheese, if you can believe that. i haven’t done a big shop in a million hours. MAC AND CHEESE? HOLY GOD.

i feel like shaving my head. (only kind-of kidding.)

I feel like a wild stallion locked up.

and also, in a rush, i feel like i’ve got to do something fast, or i’ll just repeat all the things i’ve repeated before. you know?

dissatisfaction. the hindrance of the cockeyed feet.

in my head i’m calling people cocksuckers a lot. i’ve also had the kids today for ten days straight with no break and so i think i need a literal quiet moment and also a much larger reorganization of my entire life.

fantastic.

no problem.

win.

gar.

love love,

me.

brown and white stallions running in a field
Pent up no more. . . Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com