McBeth.
Tie two birds together.
They will not be able to fly, even though they now have four wings.
-- From within and without, they meet up and hang out for coffee while I transcribe. --
This morning I sat outside on the front steps of my house, trying to carefully yank the crusted muck from the inside corners of my eyes while navigating some complicated early-morning emotions which followed an earlier-morning phone call from one of my sisters.
After my 227th game of PDA Solitaire I slowly contemplated moving indoors... maybe to the bathtub, maybe to a dusty window with a towel and a bottle of Windex, maybe back to the coffee pot for a refill, maybe to a long slow stare down with the broom and dustpan (no, two against one. They'd most definitely win). Maybe I should grab a pen and a notebook to extrapolate the wordless frustration, or find something to physically break -ruin- to help shake loose my tension.
It was while trying to unravel this 'which way do I go?' conundrum when I heard a soft chuffling sound indirectly above me. Not cooing exactly; not squawking, but more of a high baritone or perhaps a very low tenor's throat clearing.
Grus canadensis
Sand Hill Cranes
Likely immature, given the brown color of their bodies (though I have read that even the mature birds, which are blue-gray can also be a brownish-red color due to the waters which they hang out in). The two distinct 'V' formations flew over my head, one containing four birds and the other, six. Marvelous huge creatures these birds are, putting the local geese and ducks to weight (at roughly ten pounds) and height (at five foot stature) shame.
They were too far away (and the two flocks located too close together) to designate who was calling out which way, but I could clearly make out both their 'unison call'', which they vocalize as male/female pairs to reinforce their bond and to threaten other cranes or predators (and which, incidentally, sounds very much to me like nature's own little wind chimes) and their 'guard call', which they vocalize to either warn cranes of danger or to warn away other cranes. Such beautiful noise, those guttural ku-rluuuu-uuing.
This time of year reveals the return of life to the seemingly lifeless rolling hills of end-of-winter Wisconsin. I am no closer to understanding how to settle my heart around a satisfactory solution WRT family issues that aren't mine to solve, but the ka-ro-o-oooing of the migrating cranes placed me slightly closer to center. That helps. It opens me to gratitude. It reminds me that I am in control of very little, that I could consider making more of a concerted effort in letting the world flow over and past me, because the world does that anyway, regardless.
I used to think I had ambition ... but now I'm not so sure. It may have been only discontent. They're easily confused.
-Rachel Field
Roller derby girls are quite something to watch (and jeer, and cheer, and and and).
There are five season tickets that exist. When the season began KD and I stopped in to buy the just-available season tickets from the roller rink. After some confusion with the owner who said there were no season tickets to buy, KD spoke with Crackerjack (a sexy and sassy MadRollinDoll), who got us the five season tickets we were seeking.
We're still not sure why no other season tickets were sold after ours but we cling to ours like the manna from heaven they are. And we do so love the Dolls.
I am Chocolate Flavoured. I am sweet and a little bit naughty. I am one of the few clinically proven aphrodisiacs. Sometimes I can seem a little hard, but show warmth and I soon melt. What Flavour Are You? |
I AM: easily distracted, easily distractible
I WANT: the most expensive thing, even if I don't see the price tag first
I HAVE: such a lovely life, despite gripes and groans
I WISH: my mother would say 'I'm sorry', and that I'd have an open forgiving heart to hear it
I HATE: extremism
I MISS: the magic of early childhood, when I really could be a doctor, or a princess, or both
I FEAR: people's expectations of me
I HEAR: my kid's chuckling rising up from somewhere downstairs
I SEARCH: for meaning in snippets. And for the meeting minutes I lost a month ago.
I WONDER: if the day will come when I no longer concern myself over matching socks with outfits
I REGRET: not making peace with Mark before he killed himself
I LOVE: catching the perfect snapshot
I ACHE: to be loved the way I most need it and to give love the way she most needs it, and to clearly understand/respect the differences
I AM NOT: patient with people who tell me what to do
I DANCE: when the spirit moves me
I SING: Christmas songs and commercial jingles in elevators, then leave, knowing others will be humming them shortly
I CRY: at commercials and nearly anything else when I'm *ahem* hormonal
I AM NOT ALWAYS: on time
I WRITE: to keep my synapses firing and my fingers busy
I CONFUSE: people's names. It's likely I confuse people as well
I TASTE: delicious
I NEED: a lot more sleep than I ever imagined. And ungodly amounts of time to myself
Thanks to 'ShutupDude' for the meme idea.
If you ever feel as though you've lost your marbles, check your bedside table before you choose to get overexcited.
You might have forgotten that you put them in a jar last night to soak.
I haven't participated in a Photo Friday Challenge in a long while ... it's about time to jump in again.
http://www.photofriday.com
Jane's daddy hurt her terribly
He was a nervous sneaky man,
drunken and smelling of sweaty Old Spice.
So she sometimes has to relieve the pressure of
her childhood sins
by slipping away from us
sneaking off to smash her head against hard things
like bloodied brick walls
or by sticking 64 safety pins underneath the skin of her pale forearms.
See, Daddy? I am worthy. I am.
Jesus still loves me.
Estella speaks little English,
her roommate knows only 'mi casa es su casa'.
But the silent language of tears
translates easily to me over our cans of Sprite and packets of crackers
when Estella's purse tips,
and Bethany's cray pas art therapy project is discovered,
the unexplained stardusting of delicate shreds
within,
Nesting materials for the rotting reeking remains of
dozens of snitched breakfast items.
David is unable to open up during group
His old girlfriend has just been admitted, he whispers.
And though he's been informed she is on the locked ward
He knows she will eventually be free to roam
on this side of the steel door.
He worries he might harm her
Again,
when he is absent.
Slightly-stooped Michael has established
his supremacy over the night.
Overrated unnecessary sleep, ha!
He paces the halls in great loops
remarking as he passes the very beautiful girl
sitting in the smoking room
that Joe DiMaggio did well to marry her.
Every other lap he winks twice, alternating eyes
one lid bowing cavalierly to Joe's gal, the other to me,
as he turns the corner,
resuming his judicious unraveling of string theory
shoelace by shoelace.
Esther's hands shake absurdly
Jell-O tumbles from the cheap white plastic spoon
cruel green globs dribble down her shirt
'This is no way to live', she keens to no one in particular.
From the nurse's station, I see dark eyes raise.
Reminders that her food tray will be reviewed
Rated
Assessed
Checked
Counted
Analyzed
Tabulated
Discussed,
along with her vocalizations,
and sleep patterns, and her appearance,
and her cooperation,
and the latest in expressed suicidal ideations,
Compiled into what she will eventually choose to label
'The test I could not pass',
Her final grade.
In the day room
Jesus just broke the D string
of his beloved battered vintage Gibson,
strumming with all his gusto.
I'd hoped to play a quiet hand of Solitaire
but could not find a full deck anywhere,
so I gave up the game,
Instead, settling in to watch the presentation.
His forehead furrows into uncharacteristic grooves -
'I ain't gonna study war no more', he wails.
His swaying groupies know about faith,
With their eyes closed,
They believe.
The ripple of lake sounds, like intimacies breathed
twinkle by sparkling twinkle
in my ear this morning,
ebb twisting itself over flow .
You above me,
In front of me,
behind me rocking
looking at all of me, your early morning repast.
Hungry shore birds, flapping our fluttering anticipation.
You, veritable ice floe,
dripping dripping
drop
melting, streaming off
warm, flesh melts
awakens and eddies,
condenses to rejoin with me,
warm flesh, waiting all those frost-suspended months
downstream.
sweating, revealing
robustly starting,
sharing
claiming, continuing,
given to wanting
giving in to being wanted.
Lazily paddling your finger oar
in circles
through reedy lowlands
to the clearing,
deep and wide,
on the other side
of oh yes,
Lap longingly
bid me dive
unclothed and carefree
into the first fervid waters
of the new season.