Tag: writing

Humanity

Silver or gold. A prompt.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I wrote this in twelve minutes, you try.

Silver or gold? Is it a question, or a statement?

What do you think? Is it the wealth of the boat ladies down by the shore, you’d expect gold but it’s the class, the class of the plain silver, the ‘I’m so wealthy and have been for so long, that I don’t need to do anything ornate. I’m a New England Smith for goodness sakes.’ the gold is for the Italians, the Jews, the flash.

Silver or gold? The friendships, the new ones, the old ones? I don’t know which is which, I think I probably have some of the new England boat lady in me, although I’m sure they’d dispute me, but heavily mixed with the chicken shit and mud of the maine dairy farmer, and my friendships range but none are pure. None.

Silver or gold? On the tree, a mix of both. It’s the sparkle for me, the way in which the light catches and is reflected and yet also stays in place, static and kinetic.

My kids sparkle.the dog does not. He’s a solid peace of lead. Lovely for what you need, but leaden. Don’t put your tongue on him.

Silver or gold? Both. A slurry, that molten mercurial slither. Harry potter on audio. A night alone to make a fire and look at a tree and watch truly terrible but pretty movies.

Silver or gold? snowflakes hang around the kitchen . I think they are the evergreens, despite their whiteness. Did she just call snowflakes the evergreens, despite all evidence to the absolute contrariness of that sentence? Absolutely. (third person self-referencing just temporary, i swear)

Silver or gold? The singing snowman puts them together, no ‘or’, but an ‘and’. Both, inclusive.

Silver or gold? Maude is in here somewhere? The slurry perhaps. The mixing of metals and the melt into a new form.

The visiting room at the facility, the ways in which the lovers of the newcomers cling to their patients, not knowing anything but relief that the crisis is past, that they have survived it, unlike all the people who were not here. Who didn’t make it, who didn’t get found in time.

Silver and gold? The earrings that dangle in the ears of women, the bells, the come see me, the decoration at the heart of womanhood. What is it to refuse them? to not have silver or gold, anywhere, just flesh and fabric covering bones and blood. Nothing more.

Silver or gold? Working? Plaid shirts and Vermont in mind. Mountains and old guys in pickup trucks. Which one is that?

Hey there. Do a prompt. See what you get.

love you, do.

-kate

person holding gold and silver round coins
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Humanity

Yesterday I wrote. . .

Lovelovemotherexpletive

This: The constancy with which my brain flits around?, when I want to staple it to one particular subject? damnit.

I don’t have adhd or anything even close. But man, the way my brain skitters from the things I must think, or do. Reptilian, arachnid. Disgusting and in my own flipping head. The car certainly took over great swathes of field for the past few weeks, but I’ve got work to do, and tv to avoid.

also this:

I really want to be away, in isolation someplace, and I even want it to be something I have to stretch through, struggle with. I think I need to face myself. Label the parts of me that flit and merge and morph. I think the slips of paper will coalesce into something I can understand more.

me. yesterday, 12/6/22

I’m grateful for woodstoves. Coffee. Soft clothing.

I’m grateful that I’ve started to hold real boundaries. That I can see that they are good for me, that they hold me to the standard of protecting myself, in a healthy way. I’m grateful that I can rely on my sense of humor, even when I don’t know how I can possibly be accessing it. I’m just glad that I can walk through the world like I can.

I’m grateful for the time and the space I’ve had these last 7 years. This ability to ‘not work’, pay my bills and watch the kids grow, all because I married someone who now makes a lot of money. How ’bout that. I suppose I am supposed to stretch and say I’m glad I married him. Sigh. Working on it.

So glad of them, though, so unblemished a gratitude… so grateful that they exist, so proud that I find them so interesting and funny and full of heart.

pile of covered books
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

All in one day, folks. All in one day. It’s astonishing I’ve not won the Pulitzer, isn’t it?

Humanity

Not five, but blathering on…

Lovelovemotherexpletive

LIKES AND LOVES.

Its early morning here, now. My kids are all here, settled, sleeping still, after a whirlwind of a day yesterday. My former father-in-law is also here. He’ll be 90 in January. He’s a character, and unpredictable, and almost 90. 90. (eyes wide and oh my god all over the place) full houses do make me happy, and tired too.

The boys had another championship/states soccer game, which they won. The almost10 year old was picked up with a friend from school early by yours truly and we watched. Well, the girls helped in the snack shack and I watched the game. At this point, knowing what it means to the boys, I can hardly stand the nervous excitement. I’m a real sports watcher right now, full of angst and under-the-breath commentary. (no book, no phone)

The next game conflicts with lovey’s 10th birthday party, which I am hosting, so i’m not going to see it. It is also two and a half hours away, and at seven pm. (lets do that math, shall we? the game will most likely finish at 8:30 pm, with a two-and-a-half-hour drive home afterwards. ehem. solidly in favor of considering children and families in the planning of sports events. solidly. seems I am something of a rarity.)

After the game today, there was a Homecoming Dance. My boys are flipping ridiculously handsome and good nature too, mostly. But RIDICULOUS. so they were dressed and dazzling and I woke up in a panic at four because I didn’t know where they were.

home, in bed. The days are numbered when my panics will be resolved so easily. My eldest won’t be in bed here next year and I’m definitely in a low-grade constant panic about that these days. mix it up with the season, the grief and its a doozy.

So. What do you do when you’re in a tizzy? You add another job. (if you are me, that is. busy minds, busy hands, calm tizzies, something like that) Or perhaps you take a class. I’ve got three separate groups that I write with currently. And one class which I like but will be glad when it ends, because it conflicts with freaking everything.

and i’d really like to learn more about end-of-life caregiving. I know, this is a big thing, sort of a rarity perhaps in blog subject matter. at least here. but, really. If I balance it with the farming, and the flowers, perhaps I’d be good at that, be a flaming ball of goodness in the world.

And i’d still really like to get a greenhouse going.

And i’d really like to win powerball.

i’d like to finish the stupid story.

i’d like to take a pottery class.

i’d love to paint again.

i’d love to figure out how to keep rosemary alive indoors.

i’d like to figure out what i can make with five pieces of saffron that I grew myself.

i’d love to tell you all about how i wrote about a character this week who had bones like coral. isn’t that a beautiful but thought-provoking image? a real focaccia of skeleton.

like and love baby. thats what its all about.

thank you for reading and say hey sometime too, because i like and love that too.

-lovelove,

me.

black and white bones hand x ray
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Humanity

Probably the fifth five

Lovelovemotherexpletive

Today i have everything all upsadaisy as I’ve got a kid to take to a dentist, and a highly important sports event in the life of my children. So, everything is on hold, and there is no work because of it. It feels like a pre-holiday, the big event this afternoon at two. So, i’m cleaning weird things, and looking at the clock a lot.

i just wiped down a toddler chair that i will use in three weeks. it will promptly be covered with other things i am cleaning. fo sho.

i’m letting my kid zombie out on the screen while she waits for the dentist appointment. she does better than i do, the dr. is constantly checking on me. i am so very damn concentrated on her while she’s getting her cavity filled, like, i’m singlehandedly keeping her alive.

it is utterly ridiculous. i know.

I’m just looking forward to the donuts afterwards. and the possibility of planning out her birthday party which is coming and buying all the flits and flats at the party store to make the house an even bigger circus than it is. There will be crepe paper, there will be circus.

Around this time, i got distracted and stopped writing and a whole lot of time passed us by. Now its nighttime. The game was won. GO WILDCATS!! And I thought these things over the course of the day:

Living with a high level of threat. What does it do to you? How do you shake it off when its just below the surface and you can barely shift it, can barely get a handhold…?

what is red velvet? I mean, why is that a flavor? ITs not a flavor! Its a color, a thing, but not a flavor! I insist.

my daughter celebrated the beginning of birthday week with two donuts. a taste test to see which was truly better. double chocolate or chocolate glazed… I’m not going to spoil it for you.

I LOVE this small town. I love it. I’m an outsider looking in but I LOVE it.

LOVE.

Humanity

Five minutes, the fourth

Lovelovemotherexpletive

Well, here it is. I actually sat and waited for the clock to tick over into a number happier with addition, so i could do the five. This is appalling and I completely blame my mathematics education. Completely. I am a big fan of blame. I talk about it all the time. And shame. love that one too.

My best friend in the world has a lot in common with me, and many differences, and vice versa. She has started sending me helpful articles on how to deal with shame. She also demands that I turn the heat on, vaccuum more often and buy ACs for every window that there is. HELLO WISCONSIN!!

I’m cool with that. She’s my best. We’ve sorrowed many times over the fact that we most likely can’t flipflop our sexual preferences. Many times. But when you know, you know. you know?

So we muddle on. She is very funny, and man, laughing is a great thing. we should all do it more.

This week I restarted my chicken chores. Feeding them, collecting their eggs, washing their eggs, boxing em up and as it turns out, driving them around until they are all gone. Full circle. I love the little biddies. They do make me laugh. So cantankerous and just rock-like in their intellect. But, what a community of ladies. A hen house, all the time. A hen party. A gaggle. They form little packs, hierarchy is very strong with them. There are many first wives, but we call them badass bitches, boss bitches. Loud, yes, and strong. Weirdly aggressive in the watching of the egg collection. Someone pecks my leg constantly while I stand there. Not especially effective against me, but certainly annoying. everyone has their time in the box, i think. motherhood is a part of it. and loss. and complacency, and acceptance in a way. bother. dash.

be careful though. they’ll kill you and eat your innards if you let your guard down. Yes they will. the fluffy nutters.

and five.

wow. so, there that one is.

sorry, not sorry.

-chicken,

kate.

photo of chicken
Thats a rooster, that one. None of those in my henhouse. Zero. Photo by Kirsten Bühne on Pexels.com