Tag: writing

Humanity

I am an egg, a good one.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I got back out to the chickens today, after a good long haul where I just couldn’t. My energy is still flipping low and my chest feels like there is a large prickly snowball in the middle of it. (thank you so much breakthrough covid.)

But there I was, moving slowly, slipping, even falling once, but out there with the ladies, feeling happy. I feel redundant telling you how much joy it brings me, but so it is. It does. I absolutely adore it.

And the eggs. So many eggs. It is my second favorite part of this job, getting my hands on and appreciating so much variety and beauty, and all the metaphor I can handle.

They come in all sizes, all colorings. I adore all of that. I find it incredibly easy to overlook the shit. Which is, in general, fabulously true of me. Win win. (because, why? why look at the shit, when there is a beautiful wildly miraculous thing to be seen as well, always. And anyhow, you can use the shit to grow things, so… )

SO here I am, realizing I am an egg.

I’m stronger than I look. I can hold the weight of things four and five times my size. And yet, there is a fragility to me. Outside forces better treat me right or I cause a hell of a mess and peel the paint right off your car.

I nourish many people. I can be quite colorful, and I can fade into the background, adding substantial protein to the mix. I am versatile.

I AM A GODDAMNED GOOD EGG.

Just saying.

-lovelove

Eggs at The Flying Carrot Farm. Metaphor Dance Indeed.
Humanity

Masculine and manly.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I don’t know if you know this about me, but one of my side gigs is that I write romance novels. Basically, once a month I crank out a page-turner. Well, maybe every other month at this point.

I wink, I nudge. I nod. Yes, I write them. Yes, you may have read them, if you read that sort of thing. I am a ghostwriter, so my name is not attached to the product anywhere and someone would be crushed if I gave you any identifying information, because they have built a career out of selling my words.

I’m mostly okay with that, my priority this year and last has been stable home-life available for kids. Well, lets make that the past five years. Their dad has really gotten his shit together and is more available for them now, so I can really and truly look around at what I’m doing and what I want to be doing.

One of the things in these books, that I have the most difficulty with, is the demand for men who are one-dimensional. Everytime I write something else, it gets kicked back to me.

Today’s example: My man gave and received too many hugs, and didn’t do a distanced enough, ‘thanks bro.’ because he actually just laughed, shook his head and appreciated it.

What is driving that, ladies? Why is this ‘Alpha Male’ thing still kicking around? We need a man who can protect us in a knife fight? Or throw their body down in front of a charging bull? Pay for all the dinners? Drive the nice car? Fuck us like rockstars? Make us feel like dainty princesses no matter how large marge we are? Make us feel safe despite all the evidence to the contrary?

Let’s look at the reality of our lives, shall we? The ACTUAL men who do that kind of shit? Can you talk with them? Laugh? (we must leave jason momoa out of this conversation, okay? that guy busts up my whole understanding of the universe.) I know lots of men who consider themselves Alpha, and honestly, a ‘REAL’ Alpha is absolutely not threatened by anyone, or any emotion, and is pretty confident in their own skin. (so says I.)

All this is to say, I’m crushed by the continuing need for characters that are not nuanced. WE are all SO COMPLICATED. There is nothing else. Even in a romance, isn’t a man who is complicated and charming and recognizes his feminine side and is unthreatened by challenge, isn’t THAT the guy?

Isn’t it?

Is it?

  • i don’t know, man.
  • i don’t know Man.

love love.

See what i did there?

Cracking up fondly,

kate

a funko pop toy of aquaman
YEs, the only free available image… Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com

Humanity

Whelp (x2)

Lovelovemotherexpletive

At the most, I’m laughing at myself for my lame-o attempt to write every day this month. And there is no ‘at the least’. I’m just laughing, and shaking my head, and doing what I can do.

Its been tough, and really good, and full and empty, and things were different than I thought and there has been a veil of sadness and I’m having to arrive at some hard decisions lately. So that is my November. My belly has been very full and complained in the most harmless of ways. It is all such a mix.

I have found the timer for the outside lights and gotten that all set up, those these first nights will probably be lit for the entire night as I’m just not savvy. . . and am craving more and more lights, but not out there. I’m imagining that I’ll end up with enough sparkle lights to leave the main lights alone. Something circus-y and yet deeply satisfying. Darkness fitting itself in and around the light.

We’ll arrive when we arrive, right?

I’m not there yet with healing and self-sufficiency in November, I’ve got a ways to go. There is grief, and dissatisfaction, and a growing need to assert. I’m not all that good with asserting myself and so sometimes I allow things that I should not, because there is noone around to point it out to me, what I am doing, this ‘allowing’.

The kettle is whistling for the hot cocoa to be made. Today was a first snow flurry of the season.

There is more delight than I could have foreseen in these teenaged years. Sometimes its just the tiniest moment between the tumults, but man, they are an entire world of glow. a secret look into the snowglobe of the world.

clamor, tumult, snowglobe shake.

i’m doing fine. My most fervent wish is that you are too.

lovelove,

me.

Christmas chickens
Humanity

Eclipse, evidently. (PLENTY)

Lovelovemotherexpletive

Yesterday (Friday now) was stupid, folks. I was swamped with feelings of inadequacy and frankly, jealousy. It is not a good look and not something I carry well. Inadequacy I’m familiar with. Jealousy? No.

Like all of us, a work in progress am I. It was just too much yesterday and I did hit the Walking Dead, and hard.

And then I missed a day of writing, And then another. So now I’m writing on a Monday, after a weekend of plenty. Saturday was The last day of CSA pickup before Thanksgiving and I spun in the luxury of plenty. Literally, as I served the people and packed the cranberries, and figuratively as I packed the foods of a feast to come. I really did. Leeks, Potatoes, Spinach, Butternut! Apples! Sage! Onion! I was still hustling to get stuff ready and I looked at the clock and my day was done. SO MUCH PLENTY! Cornucopias overflowing, my friends.

This Thursday is Thanksgiving in these united states. ha, on that ‘united’ . but i digress and thats a grief that I cannot touch these days.

Thanksgiving is one of my most favorites (because hello gluttony! and stuffing, and then more stuffing and potatoes too, oh my god, and gravy…) but it is directly after the anniversary of my dad’s death which was Sunday, and this will be the second year that there is no extended family plenty for me to host, which is a gigantic and enjoyable distraction that makes me feel centered and well. I LOVE having people that I love in my house, it fills me up all sorts of ways…

Sigh. I tried. I opened the invite to all, but with meager responses and drive and covid risk, its been winnowed down. Less than plenty, but understandable and a day free from driving will give many of my family a different sort of ‘plenty’, so i feel that spaciousness for them.

My grief group that I am supposed to write in was last night, but as it was the actual anniversary, I couldn’t do it. For several reasons. another kind of plenty. the anniversary of my dad’s death is not something I focus on, but am aware of. My siblings are more on top of things in that way and I appreciated the focus they gave me, really.

I did some driving for my mom who was having car troubles, and she could only just say she found it a stressful day. I did not dig but just rolled along, because that is what I do. I can roll.

I may be deflated, but I still roll babies.

So say we all.

I hope you have your own loving, gorgeous Plenty this week, and all the weeks.

Is there anything more ‘barn’ than this? Really?
Color overwhelm of Cranberry
Who knew this girl would be so happy being outside in coldness feeding chickens? Who knew?
Humanity

I like being busy.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I know. Its with a certain amount of chagrin that I say this, knowing how I’ve been complaining these past few weeks.

My projects wrapped up. and while there is a tiny thing I could do, I’m finding myself utterly at a loss and swept away by emotions. I do blame perimenopause for some of it, yes, but not all.

working for myself, at home, is not an easy gig.

i’m thinking i might go binge on the walking dead, because i can hide from the gratuitous gore and just hang on to the mystery of who is going to survive or what will ever cause things to get better. (i’m on season six somewhere so don’t say a word.)

the kids are also away this weekend and i’ve had them for the past two, so there is this gaping maw sensation. I’ve got some entertainment in my social life these days but i’m thinking i’m going to take the weekend off from that too. and so, its just me, and tv.

never fear. i’ve got a crockpot going and have fed the chickens and things look normal from the outside. but still. this month. tsk.

Its nice to think about cooking good food. I’ve been assigned brussel sprouts and butternut. Plus, mashed potatoes. All will be well. I can actually just live on those, anyhow, so we’re good.

love you guys. hope your search for food will be fulfilled.

-lovelove

My ladies, of Flying Carrot Farm