Change

Nothing much really changes, does it? Someone said – can’t remember who – that he measured his life with coffee spoons. I measure my life with Thursday night writes, dog walks, Friday night drives down to Mill Creek, PeaPod deliveries, orange scones and hazelnut coffee, episodes of Dirty Sexy Money and NCIS, paydays, mortgage payments, mammograms, garbage days, Morning Joe, June’s in Saratoga Spring and July’s in Taos, Brunch at Nordstrom’s before a day of Christmas Shopping.

american horrific

In the morning there is a mist on the creek. The surface is completely undisturbed except for the bait fish that are feed on the morning hatch. Their first taste of the day. Gulls circle low over the water. The air is chilled. I stand, enshrouded in the cotton robe I bought last August in Porta Porquese. Thoughts of the campaign and the November 4th election creep in. On November 5th will it be American Horrific or a New Day in America?

Romanesque Arches

When was the last time I memorized a poem?

When was the last time I wrote a poem?

It's time.

I'm Feeling Blue

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I spent the last Friday afternoon of my vacation sitting in our rented Fiat Bravo in Molina, Italy with a sprained ankle – or at least a badly twisted ankle – while John went – at my insistence – to see the Molina Falls. And we were nearly out of gas. But the GPS said there was a gas station less than three miles away. It was hot in the car. I was sprained hot and blue.

A Day in the Life

Canine Competition, originally uploaded by imustwrite.

Saturday – October 4th

I wake up in Falls Church, Virginia with two other creatures in my bed instead of three. John is on Assateague Island in pursuit of the elusive Red Drum (that’s a fish, not a percussion instrument) and my bed mates are a 60 pound Samoyed named Arlo and Darcy – a Dalmatian/Hound mix. It is 6:30 AM and they are hungry. Since we are down to one can of Science Diet I split that between them while I fry up burgers for the dogs and an egg for myself. I must get to PetSmart first thing. But it is a luxury to have the house to myself on a weekend morning so I do what I usually do when John is away….I clean. I keep a list of things I must do at the ready –in my head. First on the list – remove the moss from the brick walk before someone slips and sues us. While I’m attacking the walkway with bleach and determination I hear the phone. I let the machine get it. Next task – laundry. I begin by separating the items I will drop at the cleaners on my way to PetSmart and lugging them out to the Jeep which is already full of books that I have collected for the book sale at today’s annual Day in the Park. (Having done my stint as president of my neighborhood civic association, my duties are now limited to editor of "The Holmes Runner" and organizer of our annual book sale.) I groan. It’s already after 10:00and the book sale starts at 1:00 PM. I still haven’t brushed my teeth. I pour my third cup of coffee and carry it out to the hot tub. I leave my moss stained jeans and t shirt by the tub and climb into the relaxing 104 degree water. Ahhhhh! One of the luxuries of a privacy fence.

Ninety minutes later I am back home with five cases of dog food ($109) and a carload of things I just had to have from Target. Target is next door to PetSmart and it seemed like a good spot to pick up a birthday card for my assistant who turns 30 on Monday. Among the items I picked up were nifty hangers that hold four pair of trousers, a set of flannel sheets and more bleach.

I am feeding Arlo and Darcy lunch when the phone rings. “Where were you?” It’s John, of course. “I called twice.”

I smile. “How’s the fishing?” He had caught a skate, but Catskill John (my husband is Bunker John) had caught a 50 inch Drum. I listen for a few more minutes before telling him I have to hurry because I’m late for Day in the Park.

Even though I’m really late I can’t resist putting the new sheets on the bed and seeing how the new hangars work. Fifteen minutes later I am amused to learn John owns 32 pairs of trousers - not counting the ones I’d just dropped off at the cleaners and there is another trip to Target in my future – to buy more of those nifty hangers that hold four pair of trousers.

It is five minutes to one. I load Arlo and Darcy into the Jeep and head to the park. Before the book sale there is a “canine competition”. At home when I play harmonica, Arlo sings along….but not when we are in public. This is the 4th year he hasn’t sung along. Darcy obediently sits and gives me her paw on command. Neither wins. The prize goes to a huskie mix who dances on his hind legs. I take Arlo and Darcy home and return to take my place at the book sale table.

Four hours later I am on my way to the George Mason Library to drop off the unsold books. Back home, I am too tired to cook. I eat peanut butter out of a jar and watch a rerun of NCIS before tucking myself into my new flannel sheets – accompanied by Arlo and Darcy, of course.

Please don't feed the swans, he said

Please don't feed the swans, he said, originally uploaded by imustwrite.

Now I'm home again. Back from Italy. Back from not feeding the swans. Back from eating pasta twice a day. Back to the gym. Back to work. Laundry. Football. Back to my own bed. My dogs. Back to work. And blogging. Now if iI just had something to say.