Words For Life - Desiderata

This is my all-time favorite poem. It feels extra appropriate now that we are living in these End times.

Desiderata - Words for Life

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

— Max Ehrmann, 1927

Welcome Our Robot Overlords

Day Three of cohabitating with Rosie the Robot.  I am a fan.  In fact, I have been resisting the urge to set her to work all day.  She is one of those situations where I wondered why I waited so long.

Lucy, however, NOT a fan.  She hates anything inanimate that moves on it's own.  (Like balloons, for instance.)  She barked at it, she challenged it, she told us and the neighborhood about it, and she barricaded herself against it.  Kevin finally took mercy and asked me to send Rosie home.  Because he holds no power over the robot.

I will say it's disconcerting to have a robot move freely about the house.  A person sees it in movies where people are totally relaxed with A.I. in their lives and I'm all...hmmm.  I know it's just a vacuum, I haven't completely snapped from the 45 days of working from home.  Yet.  Something moving along on it's own throughout your house is a little strange.

Out of respect for Lucy, we pondered setting Rosie to work the overnight shift.  While listening to her whir, bounce off of items, and the whisk-whisk-whisk against a closed doors, I decided that I didn't need to wake up to a Stephen King movie soundtrack.

She does a very good job under the bed and does okay under the couch.  We inherited a couch years ago and it has a heavy skirt so it struggles at little determining if it's a barrier or not.  She has gotten stuck under our bar stools and she doesn't like the backdoor entry rug.  Otherwise, she has acclimated nicely into our household.  Well, other than Lucy.  I fear they will remain mortal enemies. 

The pillows were to keep Rosie from going down the hallway. And to provide base for Lucy, obvs.

Meet Rosie

I have always wanted a robot and now I have one.  Meet Rosie.  Extra points if you get the childhood reference.

For the last month I have been considering getting a roomba.  I have wanted one almost since they've become a thing.  Vacuuming is not my favorite thing and owning a robot is my favorite thing.

I've had it in my Amazon cart twice but never could bring myself to push the Buy Now button.  I've done some price comparisons, I've looked at reviews, I've considered if it was worth paying the extra for the robot that does both kinds of floors.  Still, I hesitated.

Kevin bought one frivolous small thing with the stimulus money but I hadn't yet.  Originally I was going to get a fire pit for the deck then Kevin rightfully wondered how much we would actually use it. Sigh. Captain Buzzkill. 

But it made me think of what I really would use.  Recently, I have really resented vacuuming.  For no reason, really.  Then my m-i-l bought a Shark cordless vacuum last weekend (well, I did, for her) and it lit a spark. 

This morning Kevin had to go to work so I was left to my own devices on a Saturday.  Saturday when I do chores.  After a week of watching the HGTV channel.  And commercials for a certain robot.

I did another shopping search and BEHOLD: bestbuy had it on sale and "Only 1 Left at your store".  It was meant to be, obviously. The Universe has spoken.  It was the dual floor one for the price of the carpet floor only one.  And the angels sang.

I clicked Buy and five minutes later, Kevin phoned to say he was on his way home. An hour early. 

This is where I had to explain that I bought a robot and well, kind of needed him to pick up said robot.  Unfortunately, the email said it would be ready in one hour and Kevin was off early.  I thought that I would just go into town later to pick it up but then another email arrived to tell me it was ready.  A pandemic miracle.

The store has curbside pickup and Kevin says he's never shopping any other way than that ever again. 

Set up was super easy.  The most difficult part was waiting for it to complete her initial charge. THREE HOURS.  I am an Immediate Gratification Person. THREE HOURS!!

Finally she was ready so I went through the set up, connecting her to the wifi and naming her.  Of course she was named Rosie.  What other name could I possibly choose? 

Okay, this is where I will admit that I startled and verbally objected when she took off from her base.  It's just a little unnatural to have a robot running around the house.  Once recovered, I snapchatted my best friends, as one does when you've purchased a robot.

Kevin came in from the shop because color him skeptical.  After watching her learn her way around the living room, he admitted "Okay, that is pretty cool. Creepy, but cool."

It's been about 45 minutes and she has completed the master bedroom and bath, the common folk bath, most of my office, half of the living room and some of the hallway.  She has alerted me twice that she is stuck and needs my assistance.

(The video is a text I sent Kevin when she first started)

She's teaching herself where everything is right now so it feels hit and miss.  I believe she will be more efficient each time she works. Because right now, my OCD is yelling a little bit in my head. "Finish the room before leaving it."  BUT, YES, AND: she has vacuumed under the bed so that right there is Pure Magic.

 Also, I have to remember to lift up the curtains, and shoes, and Lucy's toys.  Something that I don't think about but do when I am the one who is vacuuming.  Seems a reasonable request.  And I just realized that I can close the doors to the rooms when she is done to prevent her from getting distracted.  I love that Rosie has the same attention span that I do right now.

It's disconcerting to hear her hum along and bounce off of things in the other room.  I went into the master bathroom for a minute then returned to the living room, where Rosie had previously been working; only to discover that she had moved into the common folk bath, down the hallway.  

So, yeah. It makes little sense that now I'm home 24/7/365 that I would buy a robot but here we are.  I think once I get over the feeling that she will overthrow the household while we sleep, I'm going to be super happy not having to vacuum.

But...here's the one thing:  Lucy has been outside this whole time. Lucy does not enjoy things that move independently.  Setting Rosie to work while we are not home is a recipe for the complete demolishing of our house. So until they reach an accord, Rosie will only work while I am home.  

That's Not A Hamburger

When people hear that my in-laws basically live with us, invariably said people will sigh or awww and say how nice that is.

Sometimes it is. Sometimes when you don't have soup and they have it, it's nice.  When they watch the dog during the work day, then it is nice.  Us being able to keep an eye on them just by being around our own house is nice.

Every once in a while though, something happens that makes me laugh.  Like the getting food poisoning from the salmon dinner she made.  I mean, it wasn't funny-funny, but I really: it was my mistake eating it.

So I just returned from the mailbox and on the way back I noticed the f-i-l out on the deck, I waved and moved on with my life.  Then I'm working in the garden and my phone rings.  It's my mother-in-law.

I think I've mentioned this before but I am totally saying it again: She always, always asks if I'm sleeping when she phones.  Sigh.  And she giggles like it's the first time she has told the joke and not the eleventy-thousandth.

She wanted to know and I quote: "Do you guys want hamburgers for dinner? We have extra."  WAIT FOR IT...."But we don't have any fixings, no buns or anything so it's just the hamburger."

I wish I had video of myself when I get calls like this.  Just imagine me throwing my hands in a SERIOUSLY sort of way, a possible eye-roll, and in this situation: biting back laughter.

Falling back on my built-in excuse, I tell her that I would have to ask Kevin first.  This is 100% not true but I usually do ask him first.  And when it's a GEM like this? I'm totally calling him.  And the rule is that when she cooks, we say yes.

I hang up and phone Kevin.  Of course, he doesn't answer so I have to wait impatiently.  Finally he phones and is a little WHAT because he's had a long day and I don't usually phone unless something is wrong.

"Well, your mom wants us to have hamburgers for dinner but she doesn't have any of the fixings for hamburgers."

Silence.

"So...do you have the fixings? What does she need, exactly?"  he finally asks.

"No, bud, she wants know if we WANT hamburgers for dinner even though she doesn't have fixings for hamburgers."

Silence

"But...that's not hamburgers..." he musters.  I can envision him rubbing his jaw, a tell that he has when he's trying to figure something out and/or knows someone is full of it.

"I KNOW" I laugh

"But...what do you have?  Like, what could you make with it?"

"I have instant mashed potatoes and vegetables. No gravy though."

"You don't need gravy, you put BUTTER. Lots of BUTTER on the potatoes."

"I meant that there wouldn't be gravy for the not-hamburger, like a salisbury steak."

"You put ketchup on hamburger patties. As God intended."

"So, yes, for hamburgers for dinner?"

Sigh from Kevin "Yes, that's fine."

Then I phone my m-i-l back, because this Whole Thing has not been enough yet.  I tell her that Kevin said yes, but that he won't be home for another hour at least.  When she phoned, it was four o'clock and no one but eighty-year-olds eat dinner that early.

"Oh, well, that's too late for us."

"Yes, I know."

"Well, we can wrap it in foil and bring it over. Then you can just keep it warm until he gets home."

Hello, food poisoning, my old friend.  "Sure" I reply while trying to think what I was originally going to make for dinner.

Now I'm waiting for Kevin to come home. He just phoned and seems to have forgotten about the "dinner" plans we have.  It's been thirty-five minutes since she phoned and they haven't called to say it's ready or brought it over yet.

I wish we lived where there was pizza delivery...But then they would see the delivery car and that's a whole other bucket of worms.

Grocery Shopping Karma

One of the things that has happened during this lovely little quarantine is that I've set up the in-laws with the Clicklist at Krogers.  It's saved on a different browser on my computer and they just have to provide the list.  I mean, it seems pretty bullet-proof.

I've figured out to schedule a pick-up as soon as there is one available and just about every week.  It's taken some juggling but I think we have a system now.  (TIP: schedule in the early morning on Monday, that seems to be when there is the most availability.  AND do it even if you're not ready; just add like three things to the cart then modify the order when you're ready.)

At first though, it went with it's challenges. On the provided list, brand names weren't a thing, accuracy was fluid, and then there's judgement.

My f-i-l is "pre-diabetic", which frankly probably means diabetic.  We had to stop giving them candy for holidays because he would eat it all before the m-i-l could get any.  So, it's with a little bit of squinting that I add "6 pack of 20 oz. Sunkist orange soda" to the cart.  Hilariously - only to me, probably - one time they got the half-cans of soda because that was the substitution.  To me, it's just the universe telling him to stop drinking crap.

We had to have the discussion of "No, you can't order toilet paper right now" AGAIN.  This is Brand New Information and started the Number One Chart Topper this month of "Dear, we don't NEED toilet paper."  I just threw my hands and slid the door shut, walked back to the peace and non-crazy of our house.

Because they are in their eighties, they seem to go through a lot of staples.  For example, like, a LOT of butter.  Like a pound of butter every week-ish.  Some of it was baking, because he likes to bake now. But some of it I just wonder how in the name of Carmen San Diego are they using so much.

She keeps listing "Cremora Creamer"  I have zero idea if this is a thing of the past or what. I'm guessing it was a brand way back in the 1900's. What she means is the powdered creamer.  And like the butter, they use A LOT.

The f-i-l enjoys SO much going to pick up groceries.  We can't tell if it's because it gets him out of the house or if he thinks it's fancy to have groceries delivered to his car.  Probably a little bit of both.  I wondered to BFF if they will keep doing it after this passes.  I kind of hope so, it's just one more reason for them not to be out and about at their age.  Even if it does give me grey hair.

So, then I wondered what folks would question if they saw our shopping list.  We don't eat "clean" but we eat pretty well for people who eat like small children.   There isn't a ton of candy, cookies, chips.  I think the worst is ice cream and even then it's only Kevin that eats it. 

It also reminded me of when I was housebound and Kevin had to do the shopping. This is when we learned that Surely shops by color and not by actually reading.  Kevin would go to the store, put his bluetooth earpiece in, phone me, and then shop. 

I could tell him it's on THIS aisle, at eye-level, and in a blue package.  There were no brand names, sizes, or anything specifically definable. 

So I guess if I look at this situation from that perspective, grocery shopping karma is visiting me on the regular.

I Didn't Know That...

So, I'm one month and days into this quarantine time warp thing.  It looks like it is going to be extended until June so I'm starting to feel that little tickle of panic.

One day this week, I woke up in a full mood.  I worked, did some chores, then realized Everything Was Futile.  I put myself into a time out and pouted on the couch for the rest of the day.  I worried that was going to be the same the following day but it wasn't.

Apparently I just needed to pout it out.

I've been hearing and reading about families and spouses being quarantined together and how it's starting to wear on everyone.  Kevin is still working and working super long hours so that's not the case here.  Heaven help us if it were because I don't know that either of us wouldn't be buried on the property somewhere by the end of it.

There was a tweet about "I didn't know I was married to the guy who does/says..."  I found it entertaining to hear people vent about their significant others.

The other day I said to Kevin "Bud, I'm pretty sure you WON'T die if you turn off the light in the pantry." 

On weekend mornings he lets me sleep.  He usually makes himself breakfast, which could be anything from cereal to waffles.  For some reason, he always leaves a bowl or plate in one sink and the drinking glass in the other. Sigh.  I don't have the heart to ask him why.  He's being quiet so I can sleep so I can't slap him with WHY ARE THERE DISHES IN ALL THE SINKS.

These are relatively small things but they are the kind of things were you feel yourself quietly snap in your brain.  I think it's the cumulative little things that takes relationship out; not the big things.  The socks on the floor (he doesn't...but I leave shoes everywhere)  and bad habits like that.

So, what have you discovered (or have known) that makes you a little twitchy that your significant other does?

Angst & Melodrama - 1985 Poetry

Seriously, Young Surely...oh my gawd

Have You Called Your Mother?

I was explaining to my Bff the other day that I don't phone my mother very often.  When I do, it's mostly me listening anyway.  There is a running joke in the fam of how long each call lasts.  It usually clocks just under an hour each time.  There is usually very little said on my end of the conversation.  And I always, always, ALWAYS come away from it exhausted and annoyed.

Anyway...apparently rambling is genetic. 

The other day Kevin asked if I had talked to my mom since she was hospitalized.  Wait...did I tell you that story?  Short version: she was hospitalized for a few hours with a stomach virus that had gotten out of control.  She told my niece not to tell anyone (neat.) but my surrogate brother had already phoned to say that he was on the way to the house with the ambulance.  It's a small town. Nice try, mother.

I hadn't talked to her since that happened as the Niece was keeping us updated and implied that she just wanted left alone.  Kevin is always the one to prompt me to call.  He appears impervious to the sigh, eye-roll, foot-stomping that accompanies these prompts.

Yesterday was her birthday.  My initial impulse was to send flowers. Then I realized we live in the end times and that wasn't a thing. Then I got wrapped up into a project and absolutely forgot until Kevin returned home from work and it was 6:30.  Sigh.

I've mentioned that she is in the beginnings of dementia but says she's not.  I may not have mentioned that you can usually tell by the way she answers the phone whether or not it's going to be a pleasant conversation or if I want to drink afterward.

And...drink it is.

She told me that she's feeling better and that the Niece and fiance had visited on Sunday and they had dinner.  Wait...they what now?  I just let it go.  She waxes on about how great Niece and Fiance are (they really are) and the implication is "as opposed to the other children/grandchildren."

Then she said that she wanted to go into town but wasn't up for it yet.  YEAH.  "I know, I'm supposed to stay home because of this virus going around."

Let me say it again:  "Because of this virus going around."

I started with the "No, you need to stay home" but I sensed a shift in the ether and stopped.  She told me that Fiance told her she could go for a drive, just to get out.  That is different than going into town so...

Now we segue into how she doesn't like our governor and/or the California governor.  I stopped her and said the ever popular "We need to agree to disagree on this" so that she would stop.  She then states that "It's not a Democrat or a Republican thing."  Like that's EXACTLY what it is, but do go on.

Then she infers that the Stay Home order was not done on the state level but the federal level and how everyone needs to get back to work. 

How's your head?  Can I get you an aspirin?

I steered out of that one but she continued.  "It's a shame about that choir. They're the reason the numbers are so high here."  The choir made the national news because they chose to rehearse when it was only a request for everyone to socially distance and nearly all of them became ill.

And that statement isn't accurate.  Now, I've suspected she has been watching Faux News.  This pretty much confirmed it. 

Kevin is now sitting in his chair, waiting for me to finish so we can watch television and relax.  He must have noticed my blood pressure building because he began to distract me with a question about my project outside and something on the television.  It broke her concentration just enough but not enough to finish the conversation.

Know that my mom has zero idea where I work or what I do.  This has been the case for years. She can tell you what the brothers and nieces do but not me.  She has it in her head that I work for "The College".  Last night's question was "Do you go to all the events?"

Ummm...what now? 

Instead I say that staff is invited to "all.the.things" but I've yet to go because we have our hands full at home.  This pings off of her completely.

Then I just went quiet.  Any fight left me.  I mentioned that I needed to finish washing dishes and she says...."You don't wash dishes, you put them in the dishwasher."  Thanks, mom, this is brand new information.

And this, my friends, is why Kevin has to tell me to call my mother.

Tula- Books are Door Shaped, April National Poetry Month

Tula [“Books are door-shaped”]
BY MARGARITA ENGLE


Books are door-shaped
portals
carrying me
across oceans
and centuries,
helping me feel
less alone.

But my mother believes
that girls who read too much
are unladylike
and ugly,
so my father's books are locked
in a clear glass cabinet. I gaze
at enticing covers
and mysterious titles,
but I am rarely permitted
to touch
the enchantment
of words.

Poems.
Stories.
Plays.
All are forbidden.
Girls are not supposed to think,
but as soon as my eager mind
begins to race, free thoughts
rush in
to replace
the trapped ones.

I imagine distant times
and faraway places.
Ghosts.
Vampires.
Ancient warriors.
Fantasy moves into
the tangled maze
of lonely confusion.

Secretly, I open
an invisible book in my mind,
and I step
through its magical door-shape
into a universe
of dangerous villains
and breathtaking heroes.

Many of the heroes are men
and boys, but some are girls
so tall
strong
and clever
that they rescue other children
from monsters.

Margarita Engle, "Tula [”Books are door-shaped”]" from The Lightning Dreamer.  Copyright © 2013 by Margarita Engle.  Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Like a Fancy Bandit

With the whole Stay Home, Stay Healthy order in place and restrictions on shopping, I had to figure out the whole mask thing finally.  I ordered one from Etsy but it won't be here until Monday.  I only have one bandana and it's red.  Where I live, a red bandana is perhaps not a good idea; even though I'm a middle aged white woman.  (confirmed by Hispanic and Latina friends)

I dug through my cedar chest and found two silk scarves that were my great aunts.  I'm sure they are older than me.  One is flimsy but longer and the other is standard scarf size.  I started with the scarf one, thinking I could do the folding/hairbands thing.

Guess what doesn't cooperate with folding and hairbands?  Silk scarves.

So, while sitting in the grocery store parking lot because I don't plan things well, I am tying a bandit style scarf around my head.

And this is where we discovered that I don't like having my mouth/nose covered.  Like panicky Get It Off, Get it off, No seriously GET IT OFF.  Yea for past trauma that cannot be predicted to show up and say Hi.

I took it off, put my hair in a pony tail, and retied it around my head, pulling it tight enough to sit on the bridge of my nose and just kinda hang loosely. Like some sort of fancy bandit. I practiced breathing then got my stubborn on and went into the store.

Once I got the hang of it, it wasn't terrible but it was definitely not my favorite thing. Also, it felt like it was slipping constantly so now I'm Touching My Face.  And trying to breathe. And trying not to feel absolutely ridiculous.

Most of the people were wearing some sort of something in the store.  (some of the older folks weren't, which made me stabby)  It became a game to see who was wearing what style of covering.  There were bandanas, scarves, masks, homemade masks.  And everyone pretending like This is Perfectly Normal

I snapchatted my BFF when I was done and we commiserated about this is the world we live in now and how much it sucked. Because of the snapchat, I don't have a photo of when it happened so I recreated it just now.  Forgetting, because of who I am as a person, that I've been working in the garden all day in a windstorm.  So, crazy homeless hair for your entertainment:

Soothers

A former coworker posted on the social media a list.  Not one of those getting to know me lists, which are fun to read and sometimes participate in and not an essentials list.  It was a self care list like none I had ever seen before.  10 Soothing Things that I Like to Do.

Her list is different than mine because she is amazing with all her cooking, baking, gardening, homesteading skills.  And that's exactly the point.  What is soothing for her might not be for me OR it could be something that I hadn't thought to try. 

I think I've talked about this before but at this point in time, it's worth a revisit. 

This is her list:
1. Arancini
2. Having the tv on to a familiar show (like Firefly or something) in the background if I am doing a repetitive task such as sewing masks
3. The moment when my garden explodes into spring
4. Music in a wide variety of genres. One time somebody asked what I listen to when gardening and it’s more likely to be Missy Elliot than John Elliott depending on how strenuous the work.
5. Dancing, even though I am not great at it.
6. Picnics and other forms of eating food outside.
7. Canines
8. Cannabis
9. Fixing broken stuff
10. Kitchen experiments.

Now I had to think, when I am spun out what is it exactly that I do.

1. Coffee - the ritual of it, as well as the actual coffee
2. Big projects - organize a closet or deep clean something
3. Working on the family tree - looking at the past makes me focus on the bigger picture
4. Walkies with Lucy
5. Binge watch Greys Anatomy or Bones. Shows that feel familiar and not full of tension
6. Have the radio playing, always.  Right now it's JACK FM which I highly recommend.
7. Take photographs.  This usually requires going somewhere but it does at least make me go outside
8. Work in the garden. Pulling weeds, listening to wildlife, seeing growth and progress
9.  Take a drive, even if it's just the long way home
10.  Fairy lights...or Christmas lights, if we're being honest.  I have them woven on our headboard.

Runners-Up:
Cozy blanket and book (with occasional dog included)
Playing a game: online or in real, like dominoes
Writing - this can go either way, actually

I Can Be Both Things

I have been pretty okay with this whole thing.  This is an adventure, this is a challenge, I can do this, I told myself.  Until yesterday.  Yesterday was My Day to Lose It.

The governor extended the Stay Home Stay Healthy order, as expected.  What wasn't expected is that it was extended for One Month.  One month.  Which also means that I am furloughed for an additional week and one day. At least.

I know, I know. It's for the greater good. It's not that big of an ask, really, to stay home And, and AND I am very incredibly lucky that this hasn't devastated our family.

That is exactly the point though.

I can be cognizant and grateful that it could be worse.

I can also be upset and moody.  I am the definition of cognitive dissonance right now. 

I can be both things.

It's not a like I'm any sort of a social butterfly.  It's not like I am missing out on super great activities and opportunities, other than the ability to go anywhere other than work or the grocery store.

Kevin doesn't quite understand. (wait for it)  He says he'd welcome the opportunity to be home long enough to be bored.  It's because he hasn't been.  He's worked full time since he was sixteen and rarely takes vacations.  That is Be Careful What You Wish For territory, pal.

But I pointed out to him that I can still be upset.  I can be both things.

I hate not seeing my friends, I hate not being on a normal schedule, I hate that the grocery store is such an ORDEAL right now. I hate that the parental burden is increased now.  I hate that I can't just go take photos and that I actually Broke the Law the other day by taking this photo:

So, Cognitive dissonance. The shiny side: I'm still working.  There is still social media.  There are still tasks on my to-do list.  I am not without.  At the very worse, I am inconvenienced.  I am rebel enough to go out of my way to breathe and take photos. 

I can be both.

Finally, this was on the twitter the other day and it gave me solace. I just read it aloud to Kevin, who is on the struggle bus today.

Angst and Melodrama - A Throwback to 1986

One of the things that I am enjoying out of this whole terrible, awful time we are living in is seeing how people are entertaining each other.  Social media has reverted back to how it used to be: funny memes, cool photos, funny updates.  Mostly gone is the political,  humblebragging, nonsense that it has been over the past few years.

I have seen many throwback posts, especially on the instagram, which are so enjoyable.  Our racing photographer friends are posting old photos where we can remember how cool we used to be.  Friends are posting photos from their old photo albums.  Even I posted on the bloggity the other day about culling through old emails.

It's as if present day is so difficult and the future so fuzzy, we are all looking backwards.

So then, it occurred to me that it's National Poetry Month.  I have nothing but time to post poems that I love and discover new ones.  And then.  And then for some reason this idea popped into my head.  A combination of Poetry Month and Throwback Posts.

I give to you: sixteen-year-old Surely, a broken kid in a broken home.  Full of teenager angst, like only teenagers can be.  So awkward and melodramatic and Adult Me is dying right now. DYING.

Poetry Month - Wild Geese (and a teaser)

It's April and life is like nothing we have ever experienced. 

April is National Poetry Month and each year I try to share my favorites.  (Much to the dear and lovely Swistle's dismay. :)  )

So, today this one popped on my social media feed and thus starts Poetry Month.

But wait, I have a plan for Poetry Month.  I just have to dig into Monica's Closet.  Stay tuned.  Until then, enjoy:

Imaged nipped from the facebook Mary Oliver page