that's mrs. mediocrity to you

This morning, I sat at my kitchen table with a journal and a pencil. Morning pages, so to speak, the result of a table that was cleared, sunlight glinting just so off the surface, and the time and space to savor a cup of tea, a blank page, the scratch of a pencil.

Outside my tiny kitchen window, the one I always wish was a big bay picture window but never will be, the birds were having their breakfast. A pair of cardinals sat together on a branch for a moment, winter lovers in shades of heart. Chickadees flitted in and out, always busy, always happy, I think the word flibbertigibbet was invented just for them. And as I sat there, writing, watching, writing, I heard the alarm caw of a crow. One of my crows, the three that come every morning for breakfast in the driveway, two on the ground, eating, one posing as lookout in the tree overhead.

Moments later, a large flock of starlings (isn’t it early for starlings?) landed in the hedgerow, chirping and fluttering and fidgeting and then moving on just as quickly as they arrived, in a great flurry of feather and branches and sunlight.

My naughty kitten was pretending to meander down the driveway.

All of this in just a few moments, but enough to make me get up to find my camera. And yes, of course, when I returned, there were no birds in sight. And so, more scratching, more tea, more listening. To a quiet that is never silent, the hum of the refrigerator behind me, the sound of pencil, and there, again, the caw of crow.

They had returned, my three musketeers, two down, one up, always waiting, watching, working. My sentinels of morning.

I snapped many shots of the watchman, but this was my favorite, the dropping down to earth, after deciding it was safe, to feast on seed.

A moment in time that happens a dozen times every day, but only once in all of eternity.

I love that.

Somehow, despite the fact that I’ve barely left my house in the last 10 days, due to the tiny stitches I had just under my nose after I had a “spot” removed, I have managed to catch a cold. I think it may be more accurate to say that the cold has caught me.

And so, here I am, on the couch in the morning, reading poetry.

If my throat didn’t hurt so much, it would be a perfect day.

Just before Christmas, I stumbled across a poet I had never read before, Ruth Stone. My daughter bought me her book, What Love Comes To as a gift.

Oh my. Yesterday, I said that I want to live my life inside a poem.

Today, I’m going to live my life inside this book.

The Long Chill

The blankets scream to be folded.
After all it’s almost noon;
the sun’s pale powder glittering
and with no clear demarcation,
and too chill; as if when
the mammoths, strolling on the steppes
and consorting, paused, as usual,
as the first light dust of snow began to fall.

~Ruth Stone

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I decided, the other day, that 2012 will be the year of discarding.

Letting go, relinquishing, dropping, hurling, setting free, releasing.

Words and tchotchkes, things and thoughts, pounds and insecurities. Worries and doubts, stuff and clutter, possibilities and promises. There is so much that I don’t need.

I want to sit here in this room surrounded by nothing, I want the quiet to seep into my skin, I want to be enveloped in space.

I need more room. Elbow room, breathing room, leg room, room to grow, a room with a view, living room, my own room.

My life is cluttered with things I don’t need, things I must have, things that replace other things. I want less, more or less. I want fewer things and more words. Less stuff and more substance. I want to hold nothing in my hand and watch it turn into something.

I want to give away everything I have and expect nothing in return. I want to build a tower of hope and climb all the way to the top. I want to let my hair down and run laughing through the forest. I want to live off the land and inhale the morning. I want to sing the sun to bed at night and whisper rhymes to the stars. I want to wrap my arms around the ocean.

I want nothing. All of it.

I want to find an empty place to curl into, a bowl, a pail, a vessel, something to float away in. I want to feel the air rushing at my face as I soar through clouds of forgiveness. I want to lie on my back in a meadow alone and let butterflies land on my nose.

I want to be still.

I want to be.

Still.

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Write a letter to yourself about how you would like your life to be
different at this time next year.

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savor every first sip.

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{reverb11} check it out here {resound11} check it out here

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What did you believe in this year?

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i believe

in smiles and broken hearts

in dancing in the moon circus

in hope

in today

in walking the path less traveled

in forgiveness

that i know nothing

in love

in summer and tomatoes

in silence

that mountains make me whole

in death

that my garden feeds my soul

that writing feeds my soul

that not all empty spaces are meant to be filled

in looking to the sky

that someday i will soar

there is never enough, there is always too much

normal is just a notion

kindness is the cornerstone of love

you have to pay attention

i prefer questions to answers

in pushing the limits

hemingway is still my favorite writer

hugs are free and also invaluable

life is not supposed to be easy, it’s supposed to be lived

i need to stand up and be counted

i occasionally suffer from wiggly spirit

i am surrounded by heroes

that i will always miss george

i will never love mirrors

love doesn’t have to be perfect to survive

my parents are the best

there is both more and less time than you think

i’m a romantic at heart, an idealist by nature
and a purist by design
except sometimes i’m not any of those things
and sometimes i am their opposites

some days are red, some days are blue

and

i believe that being alive is a gift

i believe that being grateful for every breath you take
is the only way to say thank you

i believe in so much and so little, all at once.

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these are all ideas or lines from my posts this year

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{reverb11} check it out here

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If you could have lunch with anybody, who would it be?

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well, that’s easy.

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you.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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A Community I Love
Online & in real life we’re all part of a multitude of communities.
Tell us about one that moves you.

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We also have the crazy one, the old lady, the little girl (who is actually 3x little), and my handsome man.

Yes, I am talking about cats. And yes, I am a crazy cat lady.

This one, the one in the picture, has become king of the castle, just by the fact that he gets to go outside. He rules the roost, or, at the very least, he tries.

He brings me gifts I cannot look at, carnage that makes me cringe, and an indifference that leaves me chasing after his affection. (If you have cats, you know what I mean.)

He’s a vicious killer, a well-trophied hunter, and a sweet doodle bug all at once. I know, I know, I am crazy.

He guards the yard while I work inside, spending my days with the other four kitties as they amble in and out of my attention zone, all unique, all funny, all loved and well-fed and spoiled and snuggled.

He stops in for visits and snacks, and goes right back outside for more hunting. More chasing. More napping. When he doesn’t check in, I get nervous. I check the road, I call his name, I pace.

I know, I know, I am crazy.

There are so many communities I love that I could have written about, my family, my real-life friends, my online friends, so many people that add richness to my life.

But this is how I spend my days, here, alone, with these five cats. (And one crazy dog.) And I almost didn’t write this post about my cats, because I didn’t want to seem like too much of a crazy cat lady.

But I AM a crazy cat lady.

And I’m crazy in love with this cat.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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Post your best photo of the year.

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This was a tough one, requiring judgment
and singling out and paring down
when there were so many lovely things
to look at this past year, so many favorites.

::

But in the end, I had to choose this one.
First, because it took days and days of hiding in the bushes
and waiting patiently to get the shot.
Bluebirds are very shy.

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And second, because when the bluebird of happiness
lands right in your backyard,
well, it’s the best.

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{reverb11} check it out here  {resound11} check it out here

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What made you laugh this year?

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this.

365 days.

times 5.

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and i

still miss

george.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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Think about this past year. Is there a song that you’ve heard that
has really struck a chord, one that has spoken to you?

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This year, there was a song.

I fell in love with it the first time I heard it, and then I played it
over and over and over again for months.

I do that sometimes. I’m weird like that.

My husband and son got tired of hearing it.

But I didn’t.

I suppose you could say that it is a sad, melancholy song.

But to me, it is laced with hope.

And as you probably know by now, I’m big on hope.

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Lines like:

Hello, hello, there is no place I cannot go.

Look at the stars beneath my feet.

Said he’d seen my enemy, said he looked just like me.

And my reflection troubles me, so here I go.

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James Blunt. Same Mistake

I’ve never embedded a video here, and
I don’t think I’m going to attempt it now.

But here’s a link if you want to have a listen.

(I tried to find a version that didn’t force you to watch a commercial first.)

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Happy Monday.

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{reverb11} check it out here  {resound11} check it out here