Slow Down, Oh Speeding Clock!

It’s almost suppertime here on the prairie. The day has hastened on, as days seem to. It’s Saturday and the municipal landfill (aka “dump”) was open, so we filled our car with garbage & recycling and hauled it all to the dump. Every farm and acreage must look after their own out here in the country.

I rode along with Bob just for the fun of it. 😉 The weather today has been intermittently sunny and overcast; as we drove the maybe-sixteen miles there and back I observed the sky full of lumpy clouds that seemed to bumble along. They have passed on and the sun came out.

Right now my half of our office looks rather shambolic — a new word I picked up over at Merriam-Webster. As you can guess, it comes from shambles and means “a great confusion or mess.” In reparation for hauling recycling to the dump, and just on the general principle of getting rid of clutter, my husband (a bookkeeper) went through a bunch of old records yesterday and piled them at my corner, next to the shredder. Last night and this morning I was shredding and filling garbage bags with paper recycling — to be made into who knows what? I got half done; the rest awaits my attention.

But back to the title of this post and the incident that sparked it. Have you noticed that the days, weeks, months go by WAY too fast. I decided a few days ago to just make my morning coffee instant. I checked the date, as I do once every blue moon, I discovered that the almost full jar of instant coffee, which I bought about six months ago, expired Feb 1st, 2019. When six months turns into a year and a half, is that not proof that time goes by WAY too fast?

Speaking of blue moons, and other heavenly times, are you planning to watch the solar eclipse on Sunday?

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning was CLOISTERED, which comes from cloister, a religious enclave, a place or state of seclusion, which comes from the Latin root verb, “to close.” Since I rarely make tea for myself, I’ve cloistered a number of misc. assorted teas up in a top cupboard. Waiting there for me to get the notion for a cup of tea, the leaves are likely returning to the dust from whence they came.

However, my jar of instant coffee is in the main traffic area, right by the cocoa mix and peanut butter. How could I have neglected it so long? Not to be wasteful, I’m now drinking a lot of instant coffee. After all, those grounds are good forever — or at least another six months.

I have to admit, though, that apart from the swift flight of time, my problems are small ones — for which I’m very thankful. I had a blood test last week Monday followed by a phone consultation with my oncologist on Thursday, and she says my blood counts are all perfect: she can’t see from my blood-work that I ever had leukemia. And that’s something to rejoice about!

So I’ll close with this little poem:

We thank Thee, Father, for the care
that did not come to try us,
the burden that we did not bear,
the trouble that passed by us,
the task we did not fail to do,
the hurt we did not cherish,
the friend who did not prove untrue,
the joy that did not perish.

We thank Thee for the blinding storm
that did not lose its swelling
and for the sudden blight of harm
that came not nigh our dwelling.
We thank thee for the dart un-sped,
the bitter word unspoken,
the grave unmade, the tear unshed,
the heart-tie still unbroken.

Things We Do For Our Good

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is FOR OUR GOOD.

I’m thinking now of the many things we regularly do for our good. For one thing, we take multi-vitamins and other medications. I don’t know where my husband’s blood pressure would be if he didn’t have medication to regulate it.

I take a tiny synthetic thyroid pill every morning. Before the doctor discovered my thyroid was no longer functioning, I was so cold all the time. One time I was looking for my sweater and my daughter commented, “Maybe we should move to Florida so you can be warm for once.” And my husband told her, “If the sun went behind a cloud in Florida, your mother would put on a sweater.”

I have arthritis and find that glucosamine helps. In fact, if I forget to take it for a few days, I start waking up in the morning with headaches. I’m also very thankful for pain-killers. I can’t imagine how life must have been back in the day when liquor was about the only pain-killer known in the western world. Or laudanum, an opiate.

My husband has been dealing with macular degeneration and gets injections to keep this under control. Getting a needle in the eye might seem like a dreadful thing, but the only other option is blindness, so his doctor does this, and he suffers this treatment, for his good — and we are very thankful it works.

Experiment.Pub DomNow I think of the millions of people working behind the scenes for our good, trying to make our environment safer, healthier, and more convenient. Researchers, inventors, food handlers, manufacturers, health inspectors, law officers. They may be doing it for a paycheck, but since what they do ultimately benefits me, I want to let them know I appreciate their efforts.

Now that we have a virus to deal with, health authorities and the government have decided that, for our good, we should self-isolate. So we’re doing our best to respect their wisdom. In the end it will be debated whether it was really for our good, or what should rather have been done.

I need to say thanks, too, to all the Happiness Engineers at WordPress for making blogging the enjoyable experience it is. I doubt we realize how much they do behind the scenes to keep us safe from spammers and hackers and up-to-date with technology.

I’m also thankful for the friends who’ve told me some things for me good. No, I may not have appreciated it at the moment, sometimes outright rejected it and I’ve even fired back with a sharp rebuttal at times. But later, turning over their thoughts, advice — yes, even sarcastic comments — I began to see a little light in it, some area where I could improve.

So I’ll enjoy my many blessings. Thinking this all over, I’ll say with the song writer, “Lord, I thank you for the good folks in my life.”

Spiralling

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is LIKE A CIRCLE IN A SPIRAL.

ksenia-k-5ClvdUR-AEU-unsplashI suppose almost every spiral has a circle at its base, like the one in this image posted by KseniaK on Unsplash. But my mind went to another circle: that vice at the bottom of the downward spiral people sometimes find themselves in. Whatever the addiction that entices, when it takes hold, it tries to suck us down.

So here’s my verse, only lightly polished, as my response to today’s prompt:

THE SPIRAL

that first circle
a few young teens giggling
sipping into somebody’s
daddy’s stash of bottles

another whirl, the parties
everybody drinks at them
the high school dances
quick sips in quiet corners
circles spinning her round

somehow, sometime
the bottle reached out
grabbed her by the throat
and wouldn’t let go
fun turned to pain
and the spiral started
pulling her down its dark path

half-sober, she dimly recalls
those coins she once had,
the people she wanted to love
yes, she grabbed for them
wanting desperately to hold on
but one by one they rolled
lost among the empties
the spiral drew her down

the husband who didn’t stay
washed away in the foam,
her children, their eyes round
as they watched their mother
stagger across the house
then downcast, ashamed
when their friends saw her too
they left as soon as they could
and her life was full of empties,
so many circles in her spiral

she sheds a few tears
there in the dark stairway
when she’s sober enough
to remember what she once had
how much those clanking circles
cost as they bottled her

she needs another drink
the blinking neon beckons
across the road she stumbles
not seeing the bright lights
round eyes bearing down
a squeal, and the world spins
the pavement so bruising
perplexingly rises to face her

sirens pierce the night
scream through her brain
colored lights flash
bouncing off the pavement
hurting her eyes – such pain!
gravelly voices rock her mind:
Ma’am? Ma’am can you hear me?
the steady circling, circling
of those flashing lights
wailing, wailing
– or is that her?

If I Were A Reporter

Today’s article at The Write Practice was written by best-selling author Jerry B Jenkins and will interest anyone who’s hoping to earn an at-home income writing. He shares ten types of writing jobs a person could take on to earn an income while working at becoming a best-selling author buoyantly afloat on incoming royalties. (My words, not his.)

One of two fifteen-minute exercises suggested is to imagine yourself doing the type of writing that interests you: columnist, speech writer, screenwriter, journalist, blog content writer, etc. and write a piece in that style.

For example, if you’d like to be a JOURNALIST, write a newspaper article about something that happened to you this morning. I’m going to go with that, and try to incorporate a few other writing prompts into my tale. (Okay, didn’t really happen — but I did hang up two wren houses this morning.)

The Ragtag Daily Prompt for today is LIMP
Jibber Jabber with Sue prompt is CREATE
The Word of the Day prompt is NEW

Ladder.morneau olivier
Image by morneauolivier — Pixabay

An eighty-two-year-old Aurora woman was injured in a nasty fall this morning, breaking her wrist, dislocating her shoulder, and badly twisting one knee while attempting to hang a wren house in a tree. The accident occurred around 9 am at 448 Shady Elm Place. The injured woman, Margaret Fallwell, explained that she so much enjoys listening to the wrens sing and wanted to create a new nesting site closer to her house before the birds return from the sunny south.
To this end she set up a ladder and had managed to climb up with said bird house in one hand and a hook in the other. Unfortunately, Mrs Fallwell found once she’d gained the top of the ladder and begun screwing in the hook, her grip on the tree trunk was not secure enough. She sustained multiple bruises and scrapes trying to keep herself from falling; however she was not successful and tumbled to the ground.
A neighbor, noticing her lying limp beside the ladder, called 911 before rushing to her aid. Police, fire, and ambulance personal were dispatched to the scene. Meanwhile Mrs Fallwell, with the neighbor’s help, managed to get up off the ground. She was taken to the hospital where she received treatment for her injuries.
Sargent James Nelson, spokesman for the Aurora City Police, strongly urges residents, especially seniors, to seek qualified help with any home improvements that involve the use of a ladder. “It may seem like a simple job,” he stated, “but the consequence of a fall may be a broken hip or other injury that will incapacitate the victim for many weeks. The elderly are especially susceptible to broken bones and a longer recovery time. It’s not worth the risk.”