Did you know what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you know what you wanted to do with your life? Did you have a plan? Have you followed it or has it veered unexpectedly? I never did. I still don’t. It’s not that I don’t like who and where I am, but these days I feel I have lost a way I never knew I was on. Or else I’m veering.* Which way is the real question, though. Which way? Really Great Writing Out There Right Now: On End *or else I’m tired.
Wild swans are winging by overhead; the third time in as many days. They call as they fly and I wonder if they are just having conversations with each other, like we would on a long car trip…the younglings honking, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” and the elders threatening to turn this flock around and fly home if the kids don’t behave. Are they commenting on the things they pass at 70 miles an hour, or is it the waterfowl equivalent of buzzing the natives? “HONK HONK NYAH NYAH! Can’t catch us, boo yah!” If they’re trying...
Having a work laptop at home is not good. Well, I mean it is good for getting WORK done. But here it is Saturday night at 10 p.m. and I have been working since 1 p.m., nearly nonstop. With only mini-breaks for a load of laundry, dinner and a walk to the nursery to buy potted purple tulips and a glorious golden-orange begonia, and to write this journal entry. I have had a headache for nearly 24 hours because I picked up new eyeglasses yesterday. I was not amused last November when I finally got new glasses after 4 years...
I fight my inner packrat constantly. I can’t remember if it was before or after my father died that my mom told us that he, a notorious and shameless packrat of the First Order, had refused to throw away, among other equally horrifying things, boxes of moldy college textbooks from the 60s that had been caught in a basement-flooding years ago and 10-year old road maps and box after box of computer cables and ports and parts. Boxes of pens. Boxes of paper. Boxes of old magazines. I don’t think my father ever threw anything away that he thought might...
The Animal That Drank Up Sound by William Stafford One day across the lake where echoes come now an animal that needed sound came down. He gazed enormously, and instead of making any, he took away from, sound: the lake and all the land went dumb. A fish that jumped went back like a knife, and the water died. In all the wilderness around he drained the rustle from the leaves into the mountainside and folded a quilt over the rocks, getting ready to store everything the place had known; he buried— thousands of autumns deep—the noise that had used...
Some Things I Love About Sweden: 1. that tarragon is dragon in Swedish 2. Men who can wallpaper AND change diapers AND knit AND fix the car 3. Pettson & Findus 4. barnbidrag and föräldrarledighet* 5. Rebecka, Marie and Cajsa Stina 6. The pretty, pretty money 7. Rapeseed in bloom 8. Carl Larsson 9. Mazariner, lyxbiskvi and vaniljhjärta 10. that television and films are subtitled, not dubbed 11. Moose! Hey! If I bring 4 friends on a moose safari, I get to go for free! Who’s with me?? Tell me something YOU love about Sweden! *governmental dependent subsidies and parental...
I used to wonder how people could stand it in the States, working all those crazy hours. Today I worked a 12-hour day and it wasn’t the first one this month. It wasn’t even the third one. And the scary part was that I had to tear myself away. I wanted to stay and keep working, keep getting things done, and only the knowledge that working straight through for a week wouldn’t even get all the things done that I have to get done prevented me from staying longer. That doesn’t make any sense, but I plead half-full bucket of...
I’m at the whiny stage of the cold now. It’s like the 5 stages of grief only with a bucketful of phlegm in my head. Denial: What’s that? a tickle in the back of my throat? It’s nothing. I am not getting sick. No matter that 2 of my colleagues have been swarming with germs in and out of my office, I WILL NOT GET SICK. Anger: Stupid %$#^%@! coworkers and their stupid $^#&$*!~ germs!! Bargaining: If I pop 2 Tylenol now, I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’ll just go to sleep a little earlier, and do my walk tomorrow....
I’ve been sick as the proverbial dog all day. I slept most of the afternoon, but it hasn’t done anything to shake this headcold which has liquified my brain and replaced it with bucketfuls of phlegm. Ew. I’m so grossed out by the thought of bucketfuls of phlegm I can hardly stand myself. That wouldn’t even make a good name for a band. Being as how I haven’t been able to do more than drag my weary carcass from bed to sofa to bed, book in hand (did you doubt it? Sick as a dog, but I can still read—I...
How do you live in a head that’s divided? I used to know who I was, I used to step firmly, moving forward, arms swinging freely. There might have been obstacles in my path but they were of no moment. I passed them easily, dodging blithely, skipping past, taking them in stride. That person that I was, she’s still there somewhere inside, but she stumbles now, hands forward to feel the way, patting each obstacle thoroughly, wondering if the best way past is over or under or around. I stand with empty hands, with empty mind. Everything has already been...