Sunday, October 04, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
End of summer days
We travel to Hawaii shortly. In the spirit of preparing for the journey I cut blooming flowers and stuck them in a vase so that I could enjoy them for the next few days. By the time I get back my flowers might very well have succumbed to a quick frost death. September is nearly over in my estimation. I am back to work two weeks ago and school feels as though it is grinding us all into the ground. Mr. M's cantaloupe crop has done very well this year. Even now I nibble on it, despite the fact that I don't like cantaloupe, it is possible I have been made a believer in this oh so sweet melon. Watermelon, however, is always preferable. Even in winter.
This afternoon I have not put down Fahrenheit 451. Leaves from the neighbor's birch are beginning to litter our driveway. Winter fashions line store shelves. I have stopped fertilizing the perennials. Soon we will be shrouded in weeks and months of cold wind and morning ice on windows. Baking will seem like a better idea than usual and the cupboard will run low on herbal and black tea. We are rebellious and sleep with the windows open. Hawaii is the last summer jaunt and of course we welcome it.
This afternoon I have not put down Fahrenheit 451. Leaves from the neighbor's birch are beginning to litter our driveway. Winter fashions line store shelves. I have stopped fertilizing the perennials. Soon we will be shrouded in weeks and months of cold wind and morning ice on windows. Baking will seem like a better idea than usual and the cupboard will run low on herbal and black tea. We are rebellious and sleep with the windows open. Hawaii is the last summer jaunt and of course we welcome it.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
First in a very long time
I wrote a poem. It is the first in a very very long time. Not perfect by any means so if my 3 readers have any feedback it is very much welcome.
Sand Dollars
Sunlight mirrors itself in the glass of soft
beach that extends beyond where she can see.
Down turned head twisting side to side,
slumped shoulders, baggy sweatshirt, pink hat,
despondent sighs do not hide her eagerness
to prosper from the sea’s exchange
of white money with the sand.
Broken in two dollars disappoint
with each brush of wave on the shore.
Sand Dollars
Sunlight mirrors itself in the glass of soft
beach that extends beyond where she can see.
Down turned head twisting side to side,
slumped shoulders, baggy sweatshirt, pink hat,
despondent sighs do not hide her eagerness
to prosper from the sea’s exchange
of white money with the sand.
Broken in two dollars disappoint
with each brush of wave on the shore.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tired of Michael Jackson
I find it very sad when anyone dies, celebrity or not. Life is priceless and ought to be savored. Now I realize if you're the "king of pop" and you pass away there's bound to be cover story after cover story on your life and latest demise. However, how many times could the story possibly be written? It's only a matter of time before a TV movie is made. I'll bet one is already in the works. Don't even get me started on the subject of the city of LA paying the memorial costs, especially when many state and city workers are not even being paid. Okay, it has been short and to the point.
Friday, July 10, 2009
The fear of heights thing
I'm not entirely sure when my fear of heights became an issue for me. Somewhere between my childhood and now. Fear of heights while hiking, fear of heights while standing on a bridge, fear of heights while painting my house, fear of heights while in an airplane, fear of heights while... you get the picture. I hope and pray that my fear does not climax to the point of tears and hysteria, like the woman I saw with her husband and three children at the Grand Canyon who would not stand any closer to the lookout railing than humanly possible. It's possible she was a solid three feet from the railing and she broke out in tears when her husband jokingly mentioned falling in.
Heights do not seem to phase Mr M. He has the ability to leap and bound over small or large boulders, skirt the edges of deep or terrifyingly deep chasms. Standing on the last safe step of a ladder does not make him queasy. This is one of the good reasons why opposites attract. He can do all the things I can't reach or refuse to reach. I clean bathrooms and cook in exchange for the ability to exercise my wimpyness.
Heights do not seem to phase Mr M. He has the ability to leap and bound over small or large boulders, skirt the edges of deep or terrifyingly deep chasms. Standing on the last safe step of a ladder does not make him queasy. This is one of the good reasons why opposites attract. He can do all the things I can't reach or refuse to reach. I clean bathrooms and cook in exchange for the ability to exercise my wimpyness.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
A taste of something new
I have often heard of people complain of their allergies. And when commercials might surface boasting that a certain drug could allow you to live your life if you suffered from allergies I felt relieved that I didn't have to succumb to drugdom.
I have now officially succumbed. I am using this space (since my three readers won't mind) to declare that I am now one of the, probably millions, who suffers from allergies. I find myself wanting to pop hydrochloride tablets and diphenhydramine like they are going out of style. At 2 A.M. I am searching web engines to see if I can overlap certain antihistamines. And for the first time ever I am about to check the pollen activity in my area on weather.com. It's a new feeling for me. A mixture of fear and dread really. Skipping through the fray with drugs in one hand and a kleenex box in the other does not seem like the epitome of a care free life to me. It's a new feeling, this one of co-dependence upon synthetic drugs. I wonder how it will play out in years to come, the constant sneezing and runny nose thing. Really you know I'm almost looking forward to it. Maybe I could be on a commercial.
I have now officially succumbed. I am using this space (since my three readers won't mind) to declare that I am now one of the, probably millions, who suffers from allergies. I find myself wanting to pop hydrochloride tablets and diphenhydramine like they are going out of style. At 2 A.M. I am searching web engines to see if I can overlap certain antihistamines. And for the first time ever I am about to check the pollen activity in my area on weather.com. It's a new feeling for me. A mixture of fear and dread really. Skipping through the fray with drugs in one hand and a kleenex box in the other does not seem like the epitome of a care free life to me. It's a new feeling, this one of co-dependence upon synthetic drugs. I wonder how it will play out in years to come, the constant sneezing and runny nose thing. Really you know I'm almost looking forward to it. Maybe I could be on a commercial.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
How I survived one of the seven wonders of the world
I saw plenty of mules during my trek in the Grand Canyon and I am happy to report that none of them were needed to drag me out. I am grateful for this 1.) because it would have been embarrassing 2.) they smell. I am also happy to report that Mr. M was very helpful and encouraging as I huffed and puffed, dragged my feet, took frequent stops, and quite often complained of my aching calves. I am once again happy to report that the weather was brilliant, the views incomparable and my hiking boots sufficient.
We began our shortish trek on Friday morning at 5:30 A.M. down the South Kaibab Trail. In tow was a walking pole, our state of the art cooling system otherwise known as handkerchiefs, wide brim hats, and a knee brace, not to mention of course water, jerky, and more water. As we descended I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of the sweeping vistas, layered colors of cliffs--whites, tans, burnt reds, greens-- and the detailed cracks, crevices, and fractures that were molded in the rocks and endless plateaus.
Seven miles and nearly 5,000+ feet later we arrived at Bright Angel Campground. Our campsite was next to a creek where we washed the sweat and dirt from our arms and faces. While exploring the canyon our backpacks at the camp were ferociously broken into by fat squirrels, despite the precautions we took right away by storing our food in the bins provided. Friday afternoon entailed lying around and reading and swatting flies away from our heads. The next morning we woke to the early tune of 4 A.M. and we were on the trail by 5.
Crossing the Colorado River on a foot- bridge in the dark is slightly eerie, but I recommend the experience if only to propel your imagination to greater heights of terror. The thing about Bright Angel Trail, which is so astonishing, is that it follows a lovely creek that travels beneath boulders and out of stone walls. The views from this trail are inhibited by mountain cliffs and it isn't until Indian Gardens (another campsite and ranger station) that the canyon really begins to widen. The top of the rim is accessible by eyesight. The last three miles of the 9.5 mile hike is grueling. It has been said that those who climb Everest develop a type of summit fever. This occurs when a person can see the top and feel like they are almost there, but in reality they are miles and hours off. They continue without heed to their oxygen or the warning signs of fatigue and many of them die. Similarly we could see the top. We could see buildings on the rim. It felt like an eternity to reach them all. Luckily we were not climbing the highest mountain in the world and rather than snow and ice we had dust, mules, and tourists to contend with— much milder elements. We ascended the rim in a whopping eight and a half hours with most of our time spent hiking the last half. It felt like I had actually accomplished something. It felt wonderful. I was exhilarated. It was exhausting.
We began our shortish trek on Friday morning at 5:30 A.M. down the South Kaibab Trail. In tow was a walking pole, our state of the art cooling system otherwise known as handkerchiefs, wide brim hats, and a knee brace, not to mention of course water, jerky, and more water. As we descended I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of the sweeping vistas, layered colors of cliffs--whites, tans, burnt reds, greens-- and the detailed cracks, crevices, and fractures that were molded in the rocks and endless plateaus.
Seven miles and nearly 5,000+ feet later we arrived at Bright Angel Campground. Our campsite was next to a creek where we washed the sweat and dirt from our arms and faces. While exploring the canyon our backpacks at the camp were ferociously broken into by fat squirrels, despite the precautions we took right away by storing our food in the bins provided. Friday afternoon entailed lying around and reading and swatting flies away from our heads. The next morning we woke to the early tune of 4 A.M. and we were on the trail by 5.
Crossing the Colorado River on a foot- bridge in the dark is slightly eerie, but I recommend the experience if only to propel your imagination to greater heights of terror. The thing about Bright Angel Trail, which is so astonishing, is that it follows a lovely creek that travels beneath boulders and out of stone walls. The views from this trail are inhibited by mountain cliffs and it isn't until Indian Gardens (another campsite and ranger station) that the canyon really begins to widen. The top of the rim is accessible by eyesight. The last three miles of the 9.5 mile hike is grueling. It has been said that those who climb Everest develop a type of summit fever. This occurs when a person can see the top and feel like they are almost there, but in reality they are miles and hours off. They continue without heed to their oxygen or the warning signs of fatigue and many of them die. Similarly we could see the top. We could see buildings on the rim. It felt like an eternity to reach them all. Luckily we were not climbing the highest mountain in the world and rather than snow and ice we had dust, mules, and tourists to contend with— much milder elements. We ascended the rim in a whopping eight and a half hours with most of our time spent hiking the last half. It felt like I had actually accomplished something. It felt wonderful. I was exhilarated. It was exhausting.
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