On a dark desert highway
Sunday we rented a mustang convertible, left the glittery strip of hotels and slot machines and drove west towards California’s Death Valley. The morning started off cold but we drove with the top down anyway. I didn’t think to bring a sweater (thinking desert = hot) and so I started to complain and Greg just turns to me, “we are driving through a desert where you can see snow capped mountains in the background, no kids, no dogs, no parents and you’re complaining?”
So, I stopped trying to get him to put the top up and by noon it was lovely and warm. It was a wonderful day and I was constantly in awe over the beauty of the landscape. We visited all the tourist areas like the Devil’s golf course, Artist Drive, the Golden canyon and Zabriskie Point. Mainly we just pulled off the road anytime we spotted something interesting and walked around wondering why it was all so quiet. And we came up with no bird song, no rustle of leaves, no sound of water. Rocks are pretty damn quiet. I would go back there. There is this resort at a place called Furnace Creek and Greg and I stopped in for a drink on our way back and it was a lovely spot. Almost appeared to me that it could be a writer’s retreat. There was this older couple sitting across from us, both reading and he looks over at her and says, “is it time for our nap yet?” and she, who is engrossed in her book, says, “in a bit.” So, he puts his newspaper in his lap and his head on his shoulder and falls immediately to sleep. Greg and I smiled at each other both of us thinking how much they reminded us of his parents or possiably us in another thirty years.
Las Vegas Boulevard on the other hand was WOW - at first I couldn’t help but think of the fictional city of Arrakeen for some reason – it all struck me a bit strange and I wasn’t quite sure what I would do with myself while Greg was at the NAB during the days but I ended up enjoying my time - just wandering up and down the strip, walking through the casinos, window shopping, people watching, sitting by the pool, playing a little roulette and the days seemed to go quickly. It was only six days anyway but I did miss the girls, the dogs by about day three-
Everything worked out well here – in fact it was a great experience for the girls to spend that time with their grandparents without us in the middle. I could see that they had built up a greater familiarity with each other over that short time period. Grammy said she loves Erin’s humor. Monica thought Granddad was a wealth of information about the stars (he was a sea captain for fifty years, joining the merchant marines at the age of sixteen – didn’t retire until his seventies) and because of his help she aced her science test. So, everything worked out fine all around.
I’ve been through the desert with cool wind in my hair (got to check that one off of my life experience list ;) I still don’t know what colitas is though?
rambling sun talk
I could not sleep last night. Should wake the girls up but want to get this coffee down me first. So, I thought I would sit here and try to play with some words. Monica made the slow-pitch team. She is thrilled. It is all spring out there now. Buds and bikes and crocuses and young happy voices blended with bird song.
The mailman just came by with my passport. Which is wonderful since I am leaving in two days for Las Vegas. My In laws and my husband were very worried for me that it wouldn’t arrive in time and I kept telling them not to worry, that it would. One small skill comes out of being a lifetime procrastinator and that is the ability to judge where the last minute lies.
I don’t want to do anything today. It is too nice out.
A small sparrow lights on the fence
Her belly big. A sheet of paper held in her beak.
She jerks her whole body one way
And then the other
rays of sun reach out and touch her
Lending every tiny feather
Significance
Sun on my keyboard, illuminating one light coloured dog hair stuck in the groove of my engagement ring and as I type my ring sprinkles the laptop with tiny dots of rainbow.
the sun’s warmth
around my neck
like a child’s arms
Happy Easter
Just more of the usual. The pansies are planted –this year I bought all cream coloured ones. Almost the colour of buttermilk. They more or less blend in with the house but I sort of like the look. Shaping up to be a beautiful day out there. I lost some of the past week because I wrote – I didn’t lose it – I actually think I made some progress but because of it everything else sort of piled up around here. Greg said the other day, “just want to let you know that when I walked across the dirty laundry on the basement floor my knees were at the level of the washing machine.”
And now I have one day to pull this place together for Easter and that is including making a friggin cake.
Thinking of home of course because it is a holiday and all. For some reason I woke up this morning wishing I had a half-ton. Taking it down some rough back road with the dogs. Dirt on the floor mat. The whole cab smelling like the inside of a well used baseball cap. Crack in the windshield. A view full of trees.
Mornings like this I have no idea who I am.
Blessed Mary, mother of God
Send me down a tommy cod
(I don't know the origin of that-)
there was also
Blessed Mary, full of grace
send me down a boot lace.
my first attempt at a cover
dishes
It was the blue plate with the sunflowers – the last one of the set. It snapped in half as I pressed my soapy cloth into it beneath the water. It broke sharp pushing up along my wrist. I pulled my arm up quick, out of the suds to see if I was cut, my hand soft from the warm water. I immediately noticed two distinct lines running along my skin up into my palm. They ran parallel with the bluish green vein lying just below the surface. After staring at it for a moment, it appeared nothing was going to happen until finally tiny crimson pearls erupted from the thin lines like spring buds on a dogwood bush. I did cut myself. Not deep but not scratch shallow. It didn’t hurt at first but a slight stinging came a few minutes later and was with me the rest of the day, speaking up when ever I moved my wrist. I don’t know if it was just the small rush of adrenalin or something newly added to an otherwise typical day, but when I cut myself the room, for that instant, got a little brighter. Nothing like a small wound to remind me that I am not really an outsider, tucked away in my head, entirely separate from everything else. For a moment I was physical, like any typical animal, were self-preservation and the act of being makes good common sense. This small cut made me feel a lot of things simultaneously. First it distracted me. It made me vulnerable, made me strong, made me focus on the opening, on the blood, on the anticipation of pain. It scared me a little but also made me feel oddly proud like look what I just did. It somehow even disappointed me that the blood wasn’t as much as I first thought – only five small soaks on a paper towel. All in all, it brought about something unexpected, a little excitement, a lesson on being more careful the next time. It made my moment of dish washing sharp enough to stand out briefly in an otherwise typical day.
april showers
I had this amazing burst of energy for the better part of two weeks and got a lot accomplished. But now I am starting to fade again. Which isn’t good because Greg had just sent me an email with a list of new figures that he needs by tomorrow and I have a mountain of clean laundry sitting on the bed waiting to be folded. (I mean if laundry actually waits) and all these other piddly things. I love to know how writers find the time to write -
I have this little book that I jot things down in. Ideas that I think might grow into a short story or something and I swear, I have enough in that little book now to keep me busy forever. That is if I could get busy with it. Friday night I was at dinner with my in-laws and was listening to Greg’s dad tell this story about an incident in a small community up north (North West Territories) that took place in the 1950s and I couldn’t help but first think – wow, this would make a fine short story and then I thought No, it would make a better screen play and finally I wrote novel in brackets in my idea book – I got so excited about it I couldn’t fall to sleep the last few nights thinking about how I might go about it. But the thing is I would have to commit so much of myself to such an endeavor and the research that would be involved and --- but oh, it would be fun ---
Yesterday, I made a ceaser salad and lasagna for supper for Greg’s family and the girls and it turned out. I was still thinking about what to do for dessert about ten minutes before they arrived and ended up throwing together the ingredients for an apple crisp in about a minute and a half and even that turned out O.K. It was a nice evening. Also the dogs were well behaved. I think I might of actually looked collected in my mother-in-law’s eyes which would be a big first. I usually come off looking frantic.
And it just dawned on me this morning that Greg and I have an anniversary in two days. Fifteen years legal. I have no idea what I should get him. One year I wrote him a poem. It was God-awful but he liked it. Well, the poor guy couldn’t really say he didn’t? I think he would be happy if I manage to get this work done in a timely manner. So I will stop yammering on now.
