Tag: writing

Humanity

so many things.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I just finished a therapy session, and haven’t had one in quite a while, so there was a lot to go through and I did all the talking, believe you me.

  1. my kid is a senior, and there is slow and steady shift in dynamics, beginning deep in my insides, about how to let go of control of the lives of my children. and clearly, there are still two that i will devastatingly control, but having a kid lean into adulthood is really something.
  2. I have this before-school school job that is really pushing me in terms of my hearing. I’ve gone and had an appointment with a doctor in boston who does cochlear implants to see if i can improve my hearing, because it sucks to miss so much when its kids. With adults I can get things repeated but kids often think they’ve done something wrong if you ask them to repeat themselves and the original impulse is lost. (Sidebar, today boy B was upset because his boogers were wet. I caught that one.) Generally though, I feel upset a little most days. I also have to be there at 7. Have I mentioned that? So early. So early. I do not enjoy.
  3. music is back and around again. I’m talking Wil Varley, Alexi Murdoch, the Cure. You dig? I’m enjoying.

4. I’m still outside and at work, and I still love it. Its hard and fairly gross at times but when I think about the most beautiful place in the world, it involves me standing empty-handed outside the coop, looking up at the sky. I wonder if my farmer knows that? I bet she does.
5. I’m still at a loss how to handle the many changes that are settling in on me here, changing familes, changing realities of finances, ears maybe, and love and tidbits of change in all the ways. the one thing i’ve let go of for these next few months is planning. I’m just going to ride the waters, whether it be wavy or calm, I’m just along for the float. Will see which shore we wash up on, I guess.
6. I’m not writing nearly enough. Not here, not anywhere. And I feel it. But today I have lunch with Robert, my writing partner, and that’ll be cool. He’s moving in May to be with a long-distance love affair. Can you believe things like that still happen? I am astonished. Perhaps I am too careful, practical. Someone make those into romantic things… Hmm.

Thats it, just checking in here.

Love you guys,

Kate

Humanity

it has happened, to me, finally. (fake drama)

Lovelovemotherexpletive
  1. there are no empty counterstops in this house. it is possible there are no empty surfaces at all. i need outside intervention that does not judge, in look, word, or attitude.
  2. two of my kids are away skiing with their dad. i’m spending a very long weekend with my eldest and we are going to eat out at almost every meal. this seriously may be the best weekend of my life.
  3. yesterday was my first fully-off day in a bit. well, i worked for an hour and a half with kids and was home by 8:30 am, but i’m not counting that. I made coffee, had a bowl of cereal and was on the phone most of the day until a kid came home. a FULL DAY OF NOTHINGNESS AND DECREPITUDE. i am not happy. the loss of a day. I mean, i took a nap, but it wasn’t even a particularly good day, just boring, and there were a million things I could have done and i’m pretty bummed at my blahghaness.
  4. Before the decrepitude, i had a six year old climb into my lap to snuggle. she lay her head under my chin and just sat. it is possibly the best thing to have happened in many weeks. we should all have such simple pleasures.
  5. A woman who is funny told me she liked my blog. In person. I’m still blushing and my ears are burning with flush and now i have to hide all the posts in which I whine. (no, i won’t, because it would be too much work, but oh god, it was cool and cool. )
  6. Okay, now that is the end of what has happened this week. Happy Friday loves!

-love love,

me.

have a great day sticker on brown surface
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Humanity

I’m good at…

Lovelovemotherexpletive

What are you good at?

In my mind this week, I’ve been writing a whole post on what I’m bad at, because I’m awful at so many things. Like breakups, and shame. So bad at them, and also, the math. But I need to switch it, don’t I? Can I live like that?

I’m good at looking at things and appreciating them. the shape, the line, the light. The beauty in the minute, the large, the fantastical and the mundane.

Sometimes I am good at capturing it in type.

I’m good at being with kids, making them feel loved. I’m good at making brownies, from a box, but good at it, still.

I’m way fantastic at self-deprecation, which needs work, surely.

I’m good at making clutter, and tidying it, and letting go of things. I’m good at staring quietly off into the corner, good at making the most of a pregnant pause.

I was good at being pregnant. Feeling my rotund self amidst the madness of the rest of it.

I am good at color, filling the house with the things of whatever the season, color beyond belief. The circus-ing of things.

I am good, mostly. Though it makes my eyes well up, I think it is true. I try, I try to be right with the world, this green and blue breathing thing, full of creatures.

I am good at reading c.s. lewis, and good at ignoring the bits I don’t like.

I’m good at being stubborn. Oh yes. Another problematic one, but still, so good.

I’m good at making baked ziti. And collecting santas.

I’m good at brewing nice coffee. I’m good at growing things, tending things, nourishing things.

I’m good at piling on blankets, and wood, and sweaters. I’m good at feeding the dog, the cat and soon, the baby chicks.

I’m good at seeming to lose control and reining it back in. reeling sometimes, in all the ways, another thing I am good at.

I’m getting better at saying no. the opportunities to practice coming more often lately.

I’m good at being cozy. I’m good at needing so little, despite the ‘so much’ around me.

I’m good at dreaming. I’m good at making do.  

A good ten minutes of freewriting, that’s all that was. Thank you Maddie and Pippa. We all should do a little focused action on what we are good at. We . ARE. GOOD.

-lovelove

Despite our best plans…
Humanity

I write during a soccer practice.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I’ve been jonesing to do something I’m proud of. My kids are putting a pressure on me to write, for myself. Not a real pressure because they don’t know what they are talking about. but still. Lately, I am able to get my daughter to her soccer practice and she wants me to sit there while she practices. I think it is inane to do that, but whatever. Seems I am one of very few who likes to drop and run. So, I sat down with a neil gaiman book, Neverwhere, which is good. He has a lovely style which manages to be clean and clear while covering dark and fantastical things. the details are astonishing. I enjoy.

But my attention span is not what it used to be, and sometimes I check my phone or look at my kid, and once, i had some thoughts that were so intriguing I thought to write them down. SO i hunted through my pocketbook *(what a dumb word. no book involved, and no pocket either) for a pen and a blank scrap and by the time I got that all settled, I couldn’t remember what I’d been thinking. So, I wrote this instead:

The way other people write; slow, thought-filled, raising images of tall trees in clusters, the dips in green shadow and oaken thrills. Deepened thoughts, greens mixed with blues of deepest unseen oceans, softness beyond despair but knowing it, having passed it by.

Handwriting swirls and curves. Steam from the hot mug, adding to the air, and realizing that I do too, steam, and add, even though I am not those other people.

The steps of a sun-blast grecian stone, heading upwards, fingers trailing along the wall, thousands before me, all of humanity it feels.

Oh, how I wonder when I will travel again, if i will.

caves and shadows, cold stone and damp. fire. whispers. nudges. heat making curls,

the drawl of ink.

sports sign in red and white paint
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–ooooh.

love you. do.

-llme

Humanity

Morovia. Morewoevia.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I’ve been ‘feeling’ a lot lately. its not my favorite.

No, nothing is really wrong. I’ve got no woe.

I’m aware that what I romanticize is distinctly untrue, and, that I do not need to be the one who provides my children with a lifelong grandmotherly estate. I’m just always going to be the mom, wherever I am, forever and ever. Its freeing, in many ways, and irrelevant in others, and a mixed bag of bulbs in the end.

I’m trying to laugh off some of the things I’ve heard this week, and I’m not doing especially well at it. Some of it, I can’t ignore, and I can’t figure out what to do about it.

I’ve purchased new chicks to raise, trying yet again to have a flock of my own. and this time, they will not be free range. poor babies. free range is not for the faint of heart, not with the coyotes, foxes, and other miscreants around here. i saw a coyote yesterday up close and it was much bigger than they look from afar. (He won the psych out, 100 percent.) I even got very cool chicks, that will lay very cool and colorful eggs. so i’m psyched. now all i have to do is keep them alive. no biggie.

I’m going to have to build shit, Dean. fuck.

I also ordered a bunch of peony roots. I am into investing in the ground lately. base level basic. They can live and recycle themselves for hundreds of years. I’m feeling the need for longevity I suppose, while at the same time longing for a life of much simpler means. Can I really runaway? Is that a thing? Like, after the last one leaves for college, can i just do a year abroad? And not even carry a phone? well, maybe just for them, so they can call if they need me. If I sell this house, I can live in a trailer and not worry about money. It could be anywhere, it could even be on wheels. Good, right?

or: Someone give me a ton of money, okay? I’d like to make an apartment at the back of the house so they can pay the mortgage and I can just be a flower farmer. Can we please do that? Please?

Sigh. No? Okay then.

I got this new job, and I’ve spent the money of my first paycheck (unreceived as of yet) already. Little bit twitchy about that. I’m now actually working to pay for impulse purchases. Will they make me happy? Yes, they will.

Yes, they will.

The weather has been fucking brilliant here. but fairly inappropriate for January and we’ll all be crying when we start our spring already in a drought. no snow man, no snow.

I’ve lost my lazy contemplative mornings with this new job, and its really messing with my days. I get home and still feel like the day is unformed, that I haven’t done anything, and should probably make some kind of list, but I’m wiped out, so I just sit down, and then it is all over. OVER.

I haven’t figured stuff out yet.

I should make that a bumper sticker. Someone else do it, I’ve already sat down.

love you. really, i do.

-kate

cash coins money pattern
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