Monday Random: cleaning out the refrigerator

  • Buying healthy for two instead of four is challenging. I hate throwing food away, and did, often in the first months. But now I’m savvy
  • It’s less hot and low humidity today so that means it’s time to make Italian red gravy and chicken vegetable soup for the month
  • It was really scary opening the veg drawers in the fridge, and I did throw out half a cabbage and some potatoes that were beyond thought of food
  • Celery–not too many stalks went in the bin, the rest chopped fine. Some for the soup, a little for the red sauce, the rest in the freezer in a container I keep for lean days and busy days
  • Carrots–same as above–when I learned recently to make Bolognese sauce and put diced carrot in it–which I forgot to hide from hubby–I was astounded. Delicious addition my mother would not have approved of. It helped also with the acidity so I didn’t have to add sugar
  • Green pepper–pepper and egg sandwiches for breakfast and the rest in the freezer for when I make chicken cacciatore
  • So far–on one cup of coffee– the sauce is bubbling with meatballs in it, and the sink is full of sudsy water to wash dishes as I go.
  • It should be noted here that when we were first married, my husband said, ‘if you just cook like this all the time, I will the dishes’
  • Let’s not re-open that wound and put lemon juice in it
  • Seriously, I should not be able to count on two hands how many times he did dishes in 27 years. That should be at least 27 Mother’s Days
  • Okay, okay, we’ll skip to something positive, haha
  • I wanted to show you this rose:

hope rose

  • I don’t know what type it is, but it was supposed to be a large yellow bloom. We planted the bush in remembrance of my mother-in-law and the other deep pink one for my own mother, may they rest in peace.
  • If anyone knows what variety this is, do tell. Now that we have it, we love it. So delicate
  • You may recall my neighbor mowed over these struggling bushes when the landlord let the grass get too high. One, this one, had a few mangled leaves left and the other was completely gone. Just a broken twig was all I saw left in the dirt
  • My mother’s now has fresh growth on it and this one, well as you see, there is still life in the old girl
  • The metaphor did not escape me for something that felt dead and was mangled and beat up, like my life was for awhile, and finding that there is still a spark inside
  • If it weren’t for God I wouldn’t be making it. I was barely breathing. So grateful–

I can’t help but feel much hope that I have yet another Monday to work and grow and write and share.  I bid you a good day and wish for you a great, productive, creative week–

–Rose

are we allegory
are we poem
are we become
the monster we despised
when we were kids
under the bed
dogging us
saying, ‘hey man–
when you gonna’

my brother says
I over-analyze
the situation
that people are simpler
than all that
blood and ache
and resistance
but I say the birds
still sing to one another

we are merely
listening in

My tank feels empty

I wrote something this morning. I shared it with you because even though it was rough, I always want to tell you the truth. I wrote it quickly and did not edit it. It wasn’t great, but it was good. There was truth in it. I don’t want to post verbal spewing, but that is where the truth and heart is, the words I write before I have had a chance to muck it up, or chop it into pieces, or make it sound bigger than it is. Hipper than it is. It isn’t ageless literature. This is not Whitman I’m writing here. This isn’t Frost. It’s a big heart from a big, bad place. It is a journey from darkness into the light. Not the light they tell you to avoid, but the warmth of peace and contentment no matter where I find myself

It is love, pain, sorrow, tears, regret, longing, sadness, hope, choking, loss, care, love, loathing, vengeance, cost, ringing, silence, deadly, hopeful, chance, wisdom, idiocy, lust, craving, darkness, life, light, craftiness, gratitude, defeat, melancholy, rebuke, aching, anger, revilement, tenderness, grief, crazed wishes, damned mistakes, mercy, grace, want, desire, apathy, music, hate, crashing, thunder, lightning, devastation, obliteration, pain, death, touch, relief, resilience, endurance, thankfulness, love

puzzle pieces
all we have carried since then
birdsong still
the wishing that brings hard work
unexpected pleasures

(leaving) Yesterday

Walking in the morning still moist from the night before, I blow away mosquitoes and duck pine boughs. No matter what took place in my heart last night, I know this mo(u)rning is a gem to be polished. It is a moment to be cherished and last night is a time to be embalmed and buried. I am through with it.

It is because of You only that I can find peace in this back o’ beyond, these sticks, these boonies, this place where the days merge into something brand new, if I do not stay there.

limbs stiff with worry
sorting wishes into rows
birds serenading



grief

they mar our rainbows with death
they color outside the lines
so we can no longer see
where the boundaries are
our long held hopes
barely showing under the scars

in the morning house
the rooms do not feel the same
as they felt last night
the floors were discouraged
I heard the walls lament
and the ceiling sag

this morning
they are silent
as I move about in bare feet
as I seek out my breakfast
they have little to say
about last night’s losses

Monday Random: Quotes

  • In the end, only kindness matters. — Jewel
  • I’m so ugly, that’s okay cause so are you — Kurt Cobain
  • A mistake made by many people with great convictions is that they will let nothing stand in the way of their views, not even kindness. — Bryant McGill
  • Poetry destroyed? Genius banished? No! Mediocrity, no: do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No; they not only live, but reign, and redeem: and without their divine influence spread everywhere, you would be in hell–the hell of your own meanness. – Charlotte Brontë
  • All you  need is love. — Lennon/McCartney

Continue reading

3 a.m.

I can hear no cars. I might be the only one in this time zone awake.

The mind is errant when left on its own. With no goal in mind, it wanders through places my mother warned me about – with fancy names and neon.

Everything here is shiny and bright. My tired eyes blink, trying to make out shapes and faces. I see you, waving to me. I try to be nonchalant.

I remember it was a drag the day I realized I was the girl mothers warned their sons about. I couldn’t argue with the facts.

There is nothing left now to do but keep it as a memory, and sand down the edges for posterity. Once I am gone, I will not be able to explain.

Now that I have passed the fulcrum of this night, I will stay awake and watch the sun come up. I hate to think this stardust will be wasted.

Monday

sunrise June.jpg

Monday could be a drudge
a gray, murky day, where
I play catch-up
the gallons of coffee
reminding me I have work piled to the ceiling
with no time to think of your eyes
or how you touched my hand
once-
Monday could be dull-
or
I could look out at this fresh day
the breeze ruffling my blouse
slipping through the weave
caressing my skin
and I could be reminded of this gift-
that I woke
and stepped out
and saw the moment
that the sun kissed the lake
Monday
could be mine