Humanity

okay okay

here we are: the otherside.

I’ve completed the hardest of my projects for this week, and i’m basking. Just momentarily, but still. And, a birthday is completed, and I can’t tell you how glad I am. And the cactus in the houseplant section of my kitchen are blooming. and there is joy in mudville. and tomorrow I get to go feed the chickens again. and that is invigorating. so much so.

so, its not necessarily the otherside, but its well down the path towards it. I can see those greener pastures of january first, i can.

there will be bumps, this is guaranteed.

I’m a bump-ridden kind of girl. But also, I’m a bump rider. I throw my hands up when the car goes over the tracks and I love the thump of my base when I hit the speedbumps. SO.

I wrote this morning about what is in my fridge and how I’m sadly familiar with the liquifaction of zucchini. and thats a bump, but i’m waving my arm around like I just don’t care. Can you see me? More liquid magic for the compost heap, baby.

And, determination. So much determination that maybe next year, I’ll even plant zucchini, just to prove it to myself that there is a way, somehow, someway, to get my kids to eat it. There is. I will lazerpoint my steely eyes on those children and watch them with glee when it happens to them.

The zuke.

(whats funny is that most of my writing this morning had to do with myself being a ‘pantser’ style (by the seat of your pants) writer, a writer without a plan who gets an idea and just runs. This post is a perfect example of the problem with pantsing. No doubt you did not expect the first sentence to lead you through this journey. Neither did I. I’m just along for the ride, like you.)

And herein lies the problem with this every day thing… no, no, i’m not going to say it, or type it, or even think it anymore.

i’m just going on faith here that if you read it, you’ll find something in it that you like. go digging. find something.

maybe my kids won’t need me to play hide the zucchini.

and because I think that sentence is so funny and leads to so much joy and hysteria, i’m going to stop right there.

love you guys. dig for it.

-kate

pexels-photo-128420.jpeg
Photo by Angele J on Pexels.com
Humanity

Morning! 6

day six of thirty days. writing myself silly for my own jollies.

Its dark out. pitch. Its slightly before seven am on a Saturday. My weekday alarm went off by accident, one of the two kids in my bed reached over my head to shut it off. Yes, two out of three.

The clocks change this weekend which always fucks me up. And I realized I’ll be doing chicken chores in the dark this week, which bites it. (I guess, I mean I’ve never fed 1200 chickens in the dark. I’m guessing its going to be fairly messy. I should invest in a head lamp maybe. Am I going to have to deal with coyotes? fug.)

I’ve been feeding the chickens at my friend’s farm twice a week. I deeply love it, once I’m there. I do. Its a challenge physically, and mentally, and I need that kind of challenge. It gets me out of the house, away from the projects and the ‘must do’ list, and outside, with 1200 little things that love me for my feeding potential.

I can see this as a way forward, once the kids are out of the house. How deeply I need something to let me love them, and care for them. How deeply I need something to run towards me with confidence and love.

Man, you got to see chickens run. It is such a delight. Little dinosaurs.

And that, my friends, is what I’m thinking about this morning, at 6:56 am, with a temperature outside of 28 F. For my brits, and irish and italians, that is slightly below freezing. I’m not doing chickens this morning, thank god. Love of warmth wins out today.

Love you, bear with me during these less pithy posts.

  • kate
Humanity

I’m taking a class.

Amidst the hellacious mess that there is in the basement and my finances, I am taking a class on Powerful Questions. And, amazingly, it has to do with listening.

Its a class that is held over the phone and I’m flatout exhausted at the end of the hour, listening so hard, translating those bits I can’t make out into bits that make sense. I just finished an hour now and my ear muscles are sore, yes they are, don’t argue with me . . . and neck and face, where i was holding the phone, so tight, so tight. usually i wear gigantic headphones, bigger than my face, but today i was too distracted to find them in time, and so i squished that fucker phone right into my brain.

its exhausting. and then kid #2 walks in the house and wants a ride hitherandfro. and if i had a partner, i would just lean on them in quietude for a little bit.

but instead i have a sweet five minutes before i start yelling/begging about ‘when? when do you need a ride? tell me when and i will take you!’ because i’m trying to beat the bus for kid three back to the house. His inability to match my speed and ferocity is legendary.

these are not the questions that the class is teaching.

I’m finding it really interesting actually.

how you formulate a question to someone can really open a door.

What do you want to happen instead? (get dreamy on your bad self, man, get dreamy…)

Is there anything else you can tell me about that? (get detailed, put those details in your dream, your story…)

What is something you can do in the next few hours to get that feeling?

I’m digging it. Its all about activating the different ways you can listen, so it feels especially ironic to me, the deafie. exhaustion and enjoyment. isn’t that a hoot.

yeah. i said hoot.

-love love,

me.

attentive eagle owl sitting on tree branch
Gorgeous Hoot. Photo by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz on Pexels.com
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
Humanity

An ass-kicking

Family style, work.

My mom had been telling me that my uncle wanted to teach my boys how to paint, for a couple of months if not since the last time I saw him, pre-covid. This is my dad’s brother, the skinniest man alive.

So, I knew, when he came to visit my mom, that he would probably spend a morning here. He is 78 years old and a powerhouse of work ethic. He lives in Florida now so mostly its a twice a year proposition.

He called me last weekend to make sure I knew what supplies to get, which made me realize the error of my ways.

My kid owed me money for utlizing paypal without asking (big fucking no on that.) So my uncle had a chance to teach him how to scrape down stair risers, let them dry and then prep them for painting, and then paint them.

Which he did.

Oh, and then they hauled. And they powerwashed.

My uncle also uncovered the patio pavers, which were covered almost entirely by grass and the dirt and friends that grass brings.

He and my mom restored part of my garden to beauty, pruning a rose bush back into a non-dangerous specimen and giving me a chance to see my daylilies again. By doing so, they uncovered the peeling of the paint on the breakfast nook that my uncle had seen at his last visit. it had bothered him. this would be at Thanksgiving, of pre-covid, so… November 2019. I’m going to type it out, yes, the peeling paint on my window sills bothered my uncle twenty one months ago.

So, the whole point of this post is here. Make a list. Cross things off. Its the best thing in the whole world. (for your nieces.) A long list, a 21 month list.

Honestly, my mom and uncle kicked my ass. They worked like beasts and my kids and I ran around following orders and pulling away tarps full of yard debris. A deck was powerwashed by me, in the fervor of ‘oh my god, work!’ … I made lunch once, drove to pick up lunch once, went to work once… It was two long half days and I’m really truly giddy with some of the things they did.

Its kind of amazing to realize how much things weigh on you, that aren’t even making your lists. It can feel pretty insurmountable here, this house, this yard. It really can.

That said, I’m going to go paint another stair riser, because I wrote a bunch this morning, and I really want to paint more.

A list!

but first, some more painting.