friday evening post

sometimes writing is like stage fright. the light is too bright and everything seems too big to swallow and words just won't come. but i figure if i stop thinking about it, and just do it, that's the thing that will snap the cord of indecision. i haven't written in so long on digital pages, and sometimes i wonder why do that when i have REAL pages? i don't know exactly. because of the other posts, that live here, i guess. but in any case, for the sake of fricassee and frying a hen, here is a post, little blog, you poor, forsaken old thing.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Daddy's been trying to kill that blessed rat for days now. The loathsome thing will take all the food from his special-sized Rat Trap, and lumber off with it. I've heard he's huge. Mama and Angelot were talking and he ran right through them.  Angelot said it was the biggest rat she'd ever seen, and that's saying a lot, cause she's had a farm. The old thing is cunning too, apparently. But Daddy will get him. Yes, Sirree.  Last night I came home and saw also, beside the Giant Trap, a bowl of succulent blue poison. Surely Daddy will succeed this time. That Rat can run and hide, but it can't resist deliciousness. 

For some reason, spring is the only time I think of baby birds hatching and growing into fledglings. But there have been lots of baby birds. There are three that must have hatched a couple of weeks ago. Chubby, awkward little things that can only squeak and hang onto the telephone wire, they just sit there, preening, watching other graceful birds skim the air lightly and skillfully. One day, they will sing beautiful songs and gracefully duck and dash into the air with the best of them. Until then, I get to watch them from our porch every morning.  

a good day's end

         "Rose!" Dawn shouts to Merry, whom she calls 'Rosamond', "I'm going to take a shower, and by the time I get out, you had better have made those chocolate chip cookies!"  But then she runs to Merria and puts an arm around her neck and says winkingly "I'z jest kiddn, kid.  We love you…now make us some good little cookies, Rosamond…"

It's old carpet and blue and very walked and sat and wrestled and laid on.  I sat on it, back to a doorframe and watched her play.  She's tough and short and spunky, and I love her. I love watching her play.  It's a doorway to her very soul, I think. D Formsma bakes cookies too, and the most steamy, crusty-on-the - outside- soft- on-the inside - kind of bread you ever tasted. And cinnamon rolls. But this day she was out of the kitchen and at the piano, just for me, and I felt as special as I should have at this token of kindness. She introduced to me Franz Liszt and his  "Three Concert Etudes S.144 No.3 "Un Sospiro".  I've never forgotten him since.

  It's not just the piece. It's the way she plays it that made all the hot wet things come splashing on my cheek and hands.  I love it now, for many reasons, and have listened to it over and over again today.

  Good old home. I'm glad to be back after a summer of traveling.  I love traveling, but you know, it's good to walk in and be home and to see and hear all the things of home that make it what it is…The smell, the creaky benches, the way the front door slams, the way the back door stays open because no one remembers to shut it; the faucet that, even though it's new, has now followed in the footsteps of its Elder Faucet and keeps sliding down and turning off, most inconveniently; the lantana that has bushed over the very mailbox and stretches itself in all directions, oblivious to its eccentricity and merely absorbing all the beautiful sunshine it can manage; the way the purple bathroom trashcan is forever being turned catty-cornered then straight again, and how the rug never stays in one place, because some like it by the toilet, others by the tub, others by the sink; the sunflower in the back yard that we watched and waited for, and is now here, tall and gangly; the way the school room fan bangs when it's on high and how the books keep trying to fall out of the bottom of the piano bench, because it's so full; the back closets - the closets at all - and how they have too much, and ever room for more; the oven with a broken handle, the teapot that gets turned on without any water; the perpetual pot of coffee; the crickets outside the windows at night and the way the summer light comes through the kitchen window in the evening…home is a wonderful place, nor would it be without its little imperfections. 

 Tonight at prayer it struck me again what an unworthy recipient of all my Father's goodness I am. 

Does He not daily, even moment by moment open the windows of heaven to pour out His kindnesses on my life and family?  Daddy took my hand and squeezed it in his big calloused one as I sat on the side of his chair {I declare, one day that chair is going to have a panic attack and fall apart}.  Everybody went around and prayed.  That quiet evening restfulness.  Our family with that Great and Kind Friend who is always with us.  I like the way daddy's stomach rises and falls under my hand when he's holding it and the way he keeps holding it, even when mine gets hot like it does, and I like how the whippoorwill who lives in the front yard's evergreen tree seems to know the right time to sing his sweet, melancholy summer song. 

Merria just came and gave me a thumb full of chocolate chip cookie dough.

"Without chocolate chips, just for you," she says. 

All in all, I'd say that's a Good Day's End.

Tuesday is for Cowboys, Indians and Cornbread

 The Teachers of SCC, and the Lowly Minions.

"TIME FOR DEVO!!!" Dawn yelled on our end of the house.  I love our family devotions.  It's the best way I could think of to end a day.  Everybody has been going to school or work, soccer practice or have {like me}  been sitting in The Cave all day working on digital files to send (as Daddy would say) to the "World Wide Web".  Devotion ties all the loose ends together and we get to shove all the other things from the day out of our minds.  We get to laugh and tell each other bits about our day and whoever is the early bird gets to lay their head on Mama's lap, where she strokes and massages it.  Mama gives some of the best head massages. Dawn sits on the couch in soccer clothes, her face still painted from Cowboy and Indian Day at SCC and tells us about the girl on her team who makes strange noises with her mouth and about Bryson, who has curly blond hair and helps her on offense.  Anne stretches on the floor, her wet hair piled on her head, stuck through with a pen.  Merry's head is in Mama's lap, my head in Milly's.  Daddy's undertones make me sleepy at night. So low and rumbly.  I love it when he prays for us all by name.  Gives me almost a thrill in thinking that God is looking at my life in that moment of prayer, considering, loving and praying for me too.

  We were talking about Merry's Fellow tonight.  She had crawled onto Daddy's chair with him as is our fashion to do when he's sitting in it.  Milly worried,
"He still hasn't made Mayla mad enough to really see her bad side…"
"Yeah," confirmed Dawn, "He hasn't seen anything yet."
"I mean," Milly said, "He's made her a little mad, but not enough."
Daddy said, "He's seen the good side but make her mad and - " and with this he made his cat noise, clawing the air and grabbing Merry's leg."
"Boy, I can't wait 'til my guy sees my bad side," I said. "That's going to be fun, fun, fun."
"Aw," said Dawn, " You don't have to worry about it with Gabe so much.  You just leave her alone for a while and wait until she gets in a happy mood, then tell her she's been in a bad mood.  Or just scare her when she's in a bad mood and that'll fix it."
 {Dawn says this out of times of merciless experience when I have been victim to her scare schemes and have been "scared" as she says, "Into a Good Mood", but the reality is that I laugh so badly I can't help it, even if I'm not happy about it.}
"What about me?" Asked Merry to Dawn.  "What'you do about me when I'm in a bad mood?"
"I just stay out of your way." said Dawn.
Daddy chuckled, Dawn dribbled her ball in the living room and Milly told me that elbows have the oddest smell.  They all have the same smell, and it's an oddly Elbowish smell.  She examined mine.  "Well, Mildrow Wilson?  What do you say?"  She said mine was no exception.

Today was SCC and as it was First Tuesday it meant Pot Luck and Dress Up. Let me tell you, coming home from work to Mama's mashed potatoes, pork loin, green beans, home grown cream corn peas and cornbread was a treat to the soul.




                      ^ Sunfire the Mighty Warrior of her indian tribe, and Sunfire's Sister's Baby,  ^

whom Sunfire was caring for since her sister died.

Cowboys and Indians.

  .Sunfire.

p.s. let not your heart be troubled: daddy's got bacon in the freezer.

.Local Scalpings. 

for more info please dial

770.787.4039.

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Happy October First Everybody!!!
  I have to say, besides it not being nippy and chilly and blue, it was a perfect day to kick October off with.  Grey and downy and drippy all day long, I want to hug days like this. Kiss them and pinch their cheeks, they are so endearing.   The school kids had play practice today, then came to our house to hang out.

  Ah!!! But daft me!!! We had supper at church last evening, and after services I did what I always do: I walked out of the building over to the lunch room and ate supper. without picking up my purse/Bible/notebook. Unless I'm very good, I generally forget I've done that, and have to go back and retrieve my stuff after the doors have been locked. Well, it was raining, of course, but right as we were leaving, I realized I hadn't gotten my stuff. I wasn't worried so much about my purse as I was a certain book that was beside it: my journal.  I need my journal, folks.  It is an essential part of my sanity and thought process. To be without it, is to be wretched. Took the keys, ran in, {didn't turn on the lights} felt on our pew for my stuff - didn't feel it, ran back out, jumped in the car and asked if anyone else had gotten it. No. Daddy jumped out, ran in, {turned on the lights} and brought out my purse. But my journal/Bible/notebook were still in there. I felt a sinking and slapping sensation across the face of my better judgement. AH! This is what I dread. And always try to make NOT happen. As it is, I've been scrounging for scraps of paper to write on and wondering why I didn't just turn on the lights.  P.s. my new moleskine from Chris is red. That's adventurous, isn't it? It's a cherry red. It's a flamboyant red.

excerpt from an old one::

Sunday, July 15, 2012

'I have so many pressure points nowadays, it's strange.  I just laid down and my eyebrows pressed that book and it was an odd pressure point." Merry was - is - lying across my stomach and Milly was lying across my legs, one head burrowed in the blankets.  She raised her head and said,

"I've had some pressure points too…Not a lot; the main one is when I floss, that tooth hits a nerve in my collar bone."

 This trio never fails to make me smile.

as it was raining, a.g. and i had to be a little innovative with our workout set up tonight.

did we feel hick?

yes.

did we feel redneck?

yes.

did we still do it?

you bet. 

~~~~~~  

a.g. fixed my hair into an Anne Shirley do-up. But she says teasing is the key.  she teased it so much, it went crazy. { love that a.g. is laughing so hard here she's almost crying. love that she can make me laugh more than any other person alive.}

'i don't want starbursts or marble halls…i just want a camel and needle, and 

gilbert blythe'

{do we pass, do you think, as fitting A. of G.G. characters?}

congrats, dawn.

Dawn was my grammar student last year and being the generous, thoughtful, briber I am, I thought I'd take her on an "End of School Outing" in May to celebrate finishing school and forever seal my unquestionable position as 'Blameless Tutor'. Well, that day came finally, though a little later than I had planned.  Not sure how May melted into August like this, but it still works, eh?  So congratulations to Dawn! She officially finished grammar today.

She came to my room last night and we talked til nearly 12 about mind paths, where $20 bills have been, the challenge and reward of school, men like Thomas Jeff, John A. and John Q and the capabilities of humans. 

She started explaining an idea she has about  the collective force of multiple minds working together…but she didn't finish it.

"…all these different channels of thought and possibility and - oh! I get jittery just thinkin' about it, but what if all those channels of thought were connected, why, then someone in Japan could be thinking something and someone here could know what they're thinking and it's just - ah! so amazing.  …….and that's when I stop talking," she said, gathering her dollar bills and jumping off the bed resolutely, 

"because I get so excited it starts getting weird, so I take my money and walk out and put it in an envelope labeled 'tennis shoes'. 

goodnight."

Introducing 'Mango Tango'... little joint in town with super good frozen yogurt and sorbets.

incredibly thankful for this kid.

can't imagine my life without her…she's more than one in a million,

she's dawn.

eventide summer

coming home.

  Anne was behind the bathroom door, brushing teeth and doing leg lifts.  We had the same idea.
'What smells like a sweaty spaniard in here, Anne?' She pointed to Abe's shorts laid over the bathtub.

'Anna-Lou!' Merry said through the door, eying us both in the mirror,  'I don't know where you've been, but I've been holding this phone for at least 5 minutes!'  Melody's head appeared in the shadow behind Merry's and she ventured,
'If anyone wants to fix my hair for driveway dance, then…that would be nice.'
Anne explained, 'Merry, I was ready to exercise thirty minutes ago, but you said you had to do your little thing.'
I sighed.  Who's pile of hair is that in the floor?...Y'all…c'mon.'  {I try to…. encourage my sistren to sweep up their locks after brushing them out in the floors.}   Melody started laughing.
'They're mine…remember?'  And I did. Because I had brushed them out yesterday when I'd been fixing her hair. Drat. I'm constantly cornering myself, then slapping me, and laughing.

Today was my second time to "jump off"  a car.

visually: Me leaping from the roof of a car.

   Actually: Me trying to remember all the instructions Chris gave to me over my dying phone the one other time I'd done it before, then acting like I knew what to do this time: 'HEH! Jump off a car? Old hat, my dear, a terribly old hat.'…..But when it came to doing it, all I could think was, "Which one am I supposed to attach first??? Red or Black??? Wait…how do I open the hood??  Didn't he say by all means not to let one of them touch ANYTHING once the other one is attached???  I was just glad that this time all of Chris' neighbors were not watching me from their front porches.  But as I attached them, then sat in the truck waiting, I could imagine a clicking noise, then a deafening explosion, and then later, me in the hospital with hanging head, trying to explain to Chris "I thought I had the right ones attached…?"  Machines are such volatile things in my mind.
You can imagine the victory when the car took the feed and started, peacefully. {though, this was with Mama re-adjusting the cord some}.

And now I am taking a crew of kids home.  A crew of happy tired kids with pine straw taped to their faces because they want to be old men,

  good eve.

of madness and brumly.

In our family we firmly believe in butter, double dipping, and prefacing any story with topics, side stories, tidbits of information and observations, regrets and insecurities - relevant, or irrelevant - as long as it adds a little more spice, background, understanding or laughter to the subject. This last habit of heavily prefacing any story, fact or message was pointed out to us today at breakfast among eggs and buttermilk biscuits, coffee and fresh peach jams.  Unfortunately Daddy had just put some biscuit and jam in his mouth when Abraham began this observation and Daddy had to keep it there for the rest of the five or so minutes that Abe was talking because Daddy never stopped laughing long enough to swallow.
  "It's occurred to me," Abe began, "that it must be a family trait for us to heavily introduce any given subject. We can't just say 'Hey guess what?  Today I got hit by a car at 70 miles per hour!' We'd have to start, 'Well, I got up at five o'clock this morning, and if I hadn't been up at all hours last night, I probably wouldn't have had such a hard time waking up. But really I only drank one cup of coffee, when I should have drunk two - I promise I only drank one - and I started driving my way to work.  I decided about a week ago that I should be keeping up with some more people, so on the way to work I thought I should call so-and-so but while I was doing that the cd needed to be changed, so as I was trying to fix it, I suddenly looked up - and, you know how you have those moments of thinking to yourself right before something happens - I looked up and saw that truck coming towards me and I thought - well, I knew he must be going about 70 miles per hour and I thought - ….uh oh….'

 There are some times you must hold your own hand or your stomach or your knees or some other object because you're simply too tense and limp with laughter to do anything else. It was one of those times this morning because that hit us all square in the chest and realizing that if we ever did have to give a yes or no question it'd be like pulling nails.  That, plus the fact that poor daddy is about the only practical, yes or no person among us and that he's been in the clutch of people who will drag out a topic for however long it takes for them to examine every angle, savor every new glimpse of an old scene, turn over the same words, phrases, predicaments over and over, to where he is dazed in the repetitive grind and can no longer function, but was long lost in the maze of crossfires of winding thoughts and narratives.

   It's good to know these things about one's family, oneself.  I believe it aids in coping - in a small degree - to society and the world at large in recognizing them.

Mama made apple pie. I'm going to make another soon. Very.

thoughts upon my bed before drifting into oblivion.

i hope this isn't terribly wicked of me, but i sometimes put on a recorded sermon to go to sleep by.  i have sometimes thought of telling this to some of my favorites as an encouraging bit of information, but even as the words would be about to slip away from my mouth into the air, i'd realize how rude that could sound.  of course, in the way i mean it, it is actually a complement. the fact that i enjoy going to sleep by their preaching as opposed to a favorite artist would - i'd think - be nice to hear. perhaps this is one of those things about being a pk. odd enough to create strange habits, normal enough to cope somewhat with society.  we have cleaned since 10.00 this morning, but here, at 10.30 tonight i put my foot down and have taken a shower and am going to bed. cleaning is good. gives satisfaction, especially when doing it because people you love will be reaping the benefit of it...in just a few days, Lord willing, this house will be buzzing. if we don't all completely evaporate, that is.  this swelteringly hot days, broiling sun, sweltering heat...all i can say is, praise God for sweat and air conditioning.
   camp was wonderful, by the way. so much about camp has shaped my life - so many of the people and traditions and sermons and experiences. so thankful for that place. goodnight.

kathryn and kathryn.

because this is the way they always happen.

I'm amazed at how long it takes to get one family picture...just one.  

observe:

 oh dawn...

reckon we can't be accused of not trying.

Dawn came in my room tonight to say goodnight.

"I was  going to give you a foot massage, but I figured it might be kinda hard 

to do with this bandage on.'

 {dawn smashed - perhaps even broke her last two fingers in the 'jumpy place'...apparently some place full of inflatable jumps....? ...i don't keep up with the trends of society.}

'But goodnight,' she said, and took a drink from her water bottle.  

She continued, 'Mel says we all look like expecting ladies with our big t-shirts and water bottles...Goodnight.'

And she walked to the door.

"She actually said,'' added Dawn quietly, 'pregnant', but I'm not going to use that word.''

Goodnight.

saturday

today was absolutely gorgeous. i stayed outside as much as possible and even though our bamboo was chopped down by the hands of angelot, it didn't deter me from taking my usual position in the front side yard beside the now gaping openness of our yard and hers. i wrote and read and was productive, even with them staring at our zoo from their lawn chairs.  

fitly dubbed by jeremy, 'annsanity'

sunday

Heart of Life 

is Good

I don't really have something specific to write tonight.  I'm just happy, mostly.  I think you would be too if you were here right now...there's not really any way not to be happy. Or at least content.
 Michael is here.  So my windows are open and he's playing to all of us girls in the room.  Dawn is wearing a straw hat, asking me if the weight on my renewed driver's license is the same as the first one.  'Is it better or worse, gabe?'
  Anne to Melody,
 'New Hampshire?'
 'Concord.'
But they insist on pronouncing 'Des Moines'  (derh-m'ohns) because it was settled 'by the Frinch.' ...At least the river was named after something French.  Merry is lying on the bed propping her feet on Dawn's back and reading some secret book.  Mama sticks her head in the door and says 'whoosh! y'all need the air on back here...Michael, I'll play your cd in my kitchen if you'll make one for me,'  and Anne keeps smiling at something.  Crickets and guitar playing.  It's just right.  And so is the world tonight at the Grey Submarine.  Disappointment is a part of life.  I guess pain is too.  But beauty is also a part that is only intensified through both of those once we can see it again.  Some how - in some good way - all that is bitter and hard and saddening will be beautiful one day.   Days like this remind me of that.