I was three minutes late to work one day last week because I was chasing the sunrise. If you’ve ever been on the backside of nowhere in the rural Georgia countryside between 7:45 and 8:00 just after the time springs forward, you’ve seen it: the most gorgeous glowing coral red sunrise ever, so rich and fiery it could be an over-easy orange yolk of a just-laid Buff Orpington egg, the kind still warm upon cracking into the pan, the kind that mesmerizes folks who’ve never seen a yolk so unhormonally free-ranging fresh, that didn’t come from a carton in a store.
Sometimes that egg yolk sun’ll be right in front of you, as it is when it’s waiting for me like a dog who wants to play chase, right at the end of my eastside driveway first thing in the morning on my way to work. Then, it’s like I’ve tossed it a stick. It takes off to the left when I turn south, then stays left when I head back east, only a little lefter than before. At the stop sign, it’s still left, just not as behindish, and then when I turn back to the south right before I turn back east again, I’m approaching what I know is THE MOST beautiful sunrise ribbon of roadway in the entire county and maybe all of Georgia, maybe even all of the southeastern United States or the world or the universe.
And sometimes I slow waaaaaaay down just to take it all in, if there’s nobody behind me.
My friend Barb Edler and I both made spooky posts Saturday. Barb’s post was about the possibility of aliens returning after their suspected driveway visit when her oldest son was a baby. Mine was about loss of sleep because of messages in a sound machine (probably possessed by evil spirits, because its twin is working fine).
All of this gnawed on my brain last night when the whatifs* started spinning on the midnight merry-go-round of my mind…..what if a tree falls on the campsite and crushes us right here in the camper? What if somebody up the hill forgot to chock their tires and their camper slides down the hill in the middle of the night and lands on us? What if a rogue tornado pops up and slings us all the way to Alabama? What if aliens invade Pine Mountain?
Aliens.
And then that whatif gobbled and swallowed my whole frontal lobe with a poem.
What Do I Do?
what do I do if aliens land here and the whole campground nudges me forward to greet the spaceship, elects me their spokesperson like some Hunger Games tribute?
what do I do when the ramp door lowers to the ground smoke spilling out against the backlit silhouettes of aliens the expressionless kind with big heads huge eyes and knobby knees?
what do I do when they confront me and stop toe to toe face to face expecting a word or a welcome or a warning?
what do I do when I start wondering if this is what the Indian Removal Act felt like for those pushed off their own planet?
what do I do when it looks like they start speculating about the speed of all our little earth-anchored sewer-hosed spaceships with lights over the doors?
what do I do when I feel like the fly before the spider says step into my parlor?
what do I do?
I do what I do best
I invite them into my teardrop to read poetry and sip tea
*with a nod to Shel Silverstein for the whatifs in his ear
Special Thanks to Two Writing Teachers for inspiring writers, especially sleepless ones.
#messages in the madness
The melatonin was working fine, just fine, I thought, but I figured either we had a rogue sound machine with broken buttons or that one of the machines was possessed. I kept hearing things, but my husband didn’t. Just like when the car starts making a sound, only not a car but a tiny little white noise machine.
So finally, finally – – he in his melatoninlessness began hearing mysterious sounds, too. I didn’t know whether to cry, be scared, or celebrate.
If your children tell you they hear funny voices at night, believe them and check the sound machine. They’re in there.
Shelley of Oklahoma is our host today for the final day of the March Open Write, encouraging us to write poems to help us relax. You can read her full prompt here. I have one of those conferences today – the kind in a town with a gas station and a stop sign and maybe a hot dog in the gas station and nothing else, and I’m driving in with coworkers from an hour and seven minutes northeast, and I’m not overnighting so I have to leave early and get home late and I know the coffee’s gonna suck because it always does when they have those plastic canisters of powdered creamer and only pink-packet off-brand sweetener.
But I’m trying to relax.
Really.
Frumpy
Relax - no one cares whether your pants match your shirt or that they're wrinkled
Relax - no one cares that the tops of your feet are white as unbaked bread
Relax - no one sees you picking at your fingers of chipped nail polish
Relax - no one knows your Odor Eaters are now expired by three months
Relax - just because you forgot to tweeze your lip doesn't mean don't go
After all: you're the driver....others are counting on you to get there
Relax - your oil got changed, your gas tank's full and your car is vacuumed out
Relax - your riders might find your car is cleaner than theirs (not driven)
Relax - wait, is that .....is that a seam coming out? It's right on the butt
Nope, don't relax. Go change pants. Nothing clean? That's what long sweaters are for.
Heck, grab a blanket and wrap up like a student .....relax for a change!
I bought a set of Haikubes a few years ago for a middle school poetry group, and I still find I love to pull them out of the box and give them a roll to see what the universe brings. Today’s haiku had journey and travel, so I rerolled other dice, slowly adding to the poem until the one in the picture was born.
These dice come in a love set, too, which would be perfect for Valentine’s Day poems.
For today, the travel bug bites. The Aurora Borealis is calling to me even through the dice. I’ve always wanted to see the hems of angel’s gowns in emerald and amethyst dancing through the heavens at night.
It’s just like a dream you can’t remember Even though you always wish you could When it’s gone, it’s gone forever When it’s gone, it’s gone for G – o – o – o – o – D
It’s my daughter’s 37th birthday, and I wrote an acrostic poem for her today. She’s celebrating on a trip to Arizona with her boyfriend, and they’re enjoying their time together, exploring the sights!
My daughter’s birthday
Arizona gift trip
Loving the cactus desert weather
Living the good side of life
Out for adventure
Rock-hounding enthusiast
Youthfully energetic
*She sent me this picture of a random cactus with this explanation: “We stopped for a wee and a fill up. This cactus was at the gas station. We’re 20 minutes from Tucson.”Classic Mallory text. I’m so happy that she is celebrating her birthday today!
My friend Margaret Simon of Louisiana hosts the weekly Poetry Friday Roundup by posting a photo and inviting writers to compose a poem inspired by the photo. Last week, she visited the North Georgia mountains with her family as a Christmas gift to her children and their families, and she posted her cherished moments of making memories with them. She invites us this week to write a poem about this photo of her mountain house.
Margaret has been using the elfchen form, also called an elevenie, in which the lines fall into the sequence of 1 word, 2 words, 3 words, 4 words, and concludes in summary fashion with 1 word that ties it together. She will announce her One Little Word tomorrow, and hints that it may be the last line in her own poem (Connection), so I’m giving an enthusiastic nod to her choice by using a form of connection as the last word in my own poem. You can read her post here, along with other poems that were written about the photo, and her picture that inspires her poem (and others) is below:
Mountain House photo by Margaret Simon
Presence
unhindered
time spent
unhurried memory making
letting presence be presents
connecting
Try an elfchen! These are fun to write, and what a fabulous way to preserve memories – using photos and short forms of poems. I like the way just a few words can encapsulate an entire experience and bring all the memories and good times rushing back.
A special thanks to Margaret Simon for inspiring my writing today. Some of my greatest blessings are my writing community friends, who encourage and inspire me to be better.
At the end of each month for the past decade plus a few years, I’ve reviewed my yearly goals and spent time reflecting on how I’m living the life I want to live ~ a way of becoming my own accountability partner and having frequent check-ins to evaluate my progress. The process I’ve been using has been helpful in guiding steps of intentionality and observable differences – – it has put teeth of quantifiable measure in the conversations I have with myself whenever I might attempt to believe that I’m making progress and provided a way to articulate exact progress so that I’m not merely shuffling things back and forth and deceiving myself. I make a table, establish goals, and keep an accountability log of accomplishments and action steps through month-end reflections. I learned this system somewhere in my early years of teaching and it was reinforced by my doctoral chair, Dr. Rachel Pienta, who assured me that it would get me to the diploma at the finish line with fewer tears and less frustration.
She was absolutely right.
This year, though, I’m tweaking my process by a few degrees to get to the things in life I need to accomplish. Everything on my list is not an ongoing action goal – – some of these are aspirations, and I need to recognize the differences and prioritize my efforts. Weight loss is an action goal that needs quantifiable progress markers with a timeline. Downsizing and retirement planning needs quantifiable progress markers with a less strict timeline. But gardening and hobbies like knitting or quilting or canning fig preserves are not as high on the list of priorities, and they’ll fit in between the more challenging goals where time permits.
So this year, I’m using a different system. I’m evaluating my progress in bold areas monthly, and all other areas quarterly.
I’m looking through a proverbial viewfinder for the big areas of life where I need the presence of some focal lenses, and I’m thinking of the smaller aspects of those larger lenses as I adjust the diopter lens and take snapshots of my journey.
2024 underway, taking us on a new scenic journey. The conductor punched our tickets at midnight – – (and where we live in rural Georgia, our front door literally shook with a sonic boom from someone’s Tannerite explosion welcoming the new year).
It’s here, folks! Welcome 2024, and cheers to you and yours!
The Viewfinder
Optical Lenses of Focus
Diopter Lenses of Possibility
Snapshots of Success
Hobbies and Life Outside Work
Sewing, Knitting, Quilting Traveling and camping Gardening Birdwatching Monthly reading group with Sarah J. Donovan Writing with Ethicalela.com 5 times a month, and every day in April Writing with Two Writing Teachers at the Slice of Life Blog every Tuesday and every day in March Writing with Spiritual Journey Blogging group on Thursdays The Stafford Challenge – a poem every day starting mid-January Writing group book proposals
These columns will be shared as progress occurs each month or quarter.
For starters, I am sharing my blog post on Slice of Life today. And just like that, I’ve taken a step into 2024 with a hobby that I enjoy.
Weekly Dinners and game nights In Person Visits FaceTime Visits Group Texts Traveling together Celebrate Red Letter Days
Mental and Physical Health
Reach top of weight range (I know this number) by June 1 and maintain it throughout 2024
Walking
Hiking campsite trails
My Table of Plans for Focusing on Success
My One Little Word for 2024 is pray. Today’s diopter word is step. As I pray for 2024 to be a productive and fulfilling year, I must step into it with purpose, and take the steps necessary – to do my part – to make it a great year.
Common Threads 