That Ends With “Y”

By order of appearance.

 

Tuesday – a.k.a “Chewsday.”

Wednesday – Sneaks up on you because it almost always never comes. Hard to remember, easy to forget. Happy Humpday.

Thursday – Pre-Friday, Post-Tuesday. A place holder day if there ever was one.

Friday – Never too soon, or soon enough. Sometimes too soon and too much. Right?

Saturday – [redacted]. You know.

Sunday – Promises, promises. Nothing guaranteed. Sorry (not sorry).

Monday – Sunday’s regrets. Dregs, trepidations realized and reset. Something for everyone on this day. Please, help yourself.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Routines, THE FUTURE, THE PAST, Time

Sleepy Time

Between No Sleep and Interrupted Sleep, there is the sweet, sweet spot of Sleep.
Sleep on a spectrum, can you believe it?
I can’t believe it.
Seems quite unbelievable.

***

If not Sleep, I’d rather have No Sleep than Interrupted Sleep.
I need to get into the rhythm, get into the flow. And if I can’t do that, then I don’t want any of it.

Anyway, there’s a certain inexorableness, a fatefulness to No Sleep that, in its own way, is to be much appreciated. You know what you’re going to get, which is none at all. Make peace with that and move on.

Interrupted Sleep, however. There’s a still that hope that some sleep will occur, isn’t there? Any kind at all. Any kind that will do. And it’s that hope that will kill you, isn’t it? If you’re not careful. It’ll get you in the end.
Dare to dream?

***

Knock, knock!
Who’s there?
Interrupting Cow.
Interrupt –

Anyway! You know the rest.
Besides, I forgot the…um, you know…?
What was I saying again?
Oh. Right.
MOO!

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Dreams, Health, Interruptions, Mind and Body

Elementary Logic

One of the first people to influence my love of books was my elementary school librarian, Mrs. Oliver.

(I’m not sure if that’s her real name, it was certainly something that sounded like “Oliver.”)

Tall, straw-haired, soft-spoken Mrs. Oliver. Quick to help you find the books you’re looking for and to suggest other books you might enjoy, sometimes very much and often for different reasons. Knowledgable and stalwart, friendly yet adamant, Mrs. Oliver.

She was very good at her job. She was, in every way that counted, perfection.

Our library was small but serviceable, the books arranged according to grade level as well as alphabetically. Lower grades (kindergarten to grade 3) on the lower shelves. Higher grades (4 to 6) on the higher shelves. Easy peasy. A very workable, easy-to-understand system.

I read widely and largely ignored this system. The “fact books” (i.e. “Facts on Dogs,” “Facts on Trucks,” “Facts on Trees,” “Facts on The Breeze”… your basic all-purpose non-fiction for beginners) located on the fourth shelf from the bottom – the shelf meant for the older students and not second-graders like me – were a particular favourite. I read them often, even checked a few out using our self-check-out system (back then, a sign-out sheet with matching card placed in an envelope glued to the inside jacket of the books).

I did this for weeks. I did it for months and months.

***

This is a true story:

One day, as I reached for the fourth level self, Mrs. Oliver appeared and, gently but firmly, stopped me.

“You can’t take those books out, I’m afraid. They’re for the older students only.” She pulled the book from my hands and put it back in its place on its shelf. From then on, she watched me whenever I was in the library, making sure I would not access books above my grade. Making sure the system, the whole system, in its entirely, worked, and was therefore perfect.

She was always still and in every other respect, the one and only Mrs. Oliver.

By the time I reached the fifth grade, and was therefore able to take out almost any book I wished, Mrs. Oliver was gone, replaced by someone whose name and face I definitely do not remember.

But I do remember thinking, the day she took the book away from my small hands: “Oh, Mrs. Oliver. You just did it, didn’t you?

You made an enemy for life.”

Let me repeat.

For life, Mrs. Oliver.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Books, Childhood, Education, People, School, THE PAST, Words

Much Alike

My sister and I look very much alike. Her friends and mine confused us for each other all the time. Still do.

My parents always wanted me to be more like my cousin – poised, prim and perfect – but I look nothing like her.

My relatives say that I look like my mom. But she’s had some nips and tucks and doesn’t quite look like herself anymore (which, of course, is the point).

I must look what she used to look like, even though she never looked like my sister and bares no resemblance to my cousin.

Don’t believe me?

Just ask my sister’s friends. They’ll tell you. After all, they’re right about half the time, if not even more than that.

Looks can be deceiving, but not all the time and certainly not for everyone.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Childhood, Family, Friends, Relationships, THE PAST

Bad Eggs

My grandma died, and then my mom got rid of all the eggs in our house. For years, no eggs. Not for breakfast, not even for cooking.

No eggs. Not one egg among us. None.

Ours was not a household in which questions from the children were encouraged or treated seriously.

Grandma died, and then no more eggs. 

Grandma died, so no more eggs.

No more eggs because grandma died.

No sense asking why.

It was a mystery among mysteries (another reason we as children did not question it – it was merely one among so many exhausting many).

Later – much, much later – I learned that my grandma died of a heart attack (my mom initially told me she died because she had “a hole in her heart,” once again allowing her penchant for tasteless euphemisms to cloud event and circumstance and circumvent understanding). The belief was that high cholesterol was the cause of the heart attack (caused her heart attack). And because my family believed that eggs caused high cholesterol they, all of them, each and every last egg, had to go.

I don’t remember exactly when eggs were reintroduced into our home. But come back they did.

One mystery solved, only to be replaced by another.

At least no one had to die to cement this one, to hold it in place for us all.

At least, I don’t think so.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Childhood, Death, Family, Food, THE PAST

General Improvements

  1. A system of pneumatic tubes.
  2. Better snacks (healthy or otherwise).
  3. Gobstoppers!
  4. More dogs.
  5. A little less blame and a lot more slack.
  6. Keep it to 90 minutes or less.
  7. Make it optional…informed, but optional.
  8. Fire him already.
  9. Polish it.
  10. Yes to no.
  11. Unlimited dipping sauce.
  12. No time limits despite expiration dates.
  13. Your face.
  14. Still more dogs.
  15. SMOOTH LINES.
  16. Better coffee.
  17. Let it play out first.
  18. Just ignore it sometimes.
  19. Portable numbing agents.
  20. A cat or two. Or three.
  21. To the left, to the left.
  22. Now goes to 11!
  23. Prioritize those odd numbers.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Animals, Change, Dogs, Entertainment, Food, Movies, Thrift, Time

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

They are best, in my humble opinion, when slightly spotted. But only slightly so – that, after all, is what gives them the perfect touch of sweetness to go with their inherent starchiness.

But anything more than that is too much. Too sweet, not enough starch and a rather unpleasant softness that sets in and only intensifies after that.

Buy them by the bunch, eat them too slowly (or not fast enough) and watch them all go bad at once.

My solution? Make banana bread!

(Or at least I would, if I knew how.)

My alternate solution? Store the soft, effectively useless bananas in the freezer until the day I learn how and decide to make banana bread!

Now, I admit it took a while. Realization was slow in coming, but as all things, it eventually hit. The frozen brown and black bananas (previously soft and still effectively useless) I’ve found in the freezers of a few of the places I’ve moved into over the years…they are the same bananas. They are different, but exactly the same as the ones I’m even now storing in my freezer.

They will never be bread. They were always not going to be eaten, never going to be bread.

That’s just nuts.

Just plain nuts, you hear?

 

 

 

 

1 Comment

Filed under Food, THE FUTURE, THE PAST, Thrift, Time

Just Another Fish Story

I often dream of fish tanks. Several large and small and each and every one full of goldfish with bubble eyes and fish with glowing skin and sharp, innumerable teeth. There are also bettas and a few catfish. Quite the collection.

The fish tanks appear in different dreams, dreams not about the fish tanks but in which they linger in the background.

Regardless, in every dream, whatever the dream in which the fish tanks appear, I approach them and am horrified, struck by the realization that I have not fed the fish.

The fish are starving, and it’s all my fault.

So I feed them. But as I feed them the fish grow larger, they swell to grotesque size and multiply. More feed, more fish, more fish more feed. So many fish, it is insane.

I don’t often wake up at this point. But beyond this point the dream gets hazy, and I don’t know what happened (what happens) with the fish tanks and I don’t know what became (what will become) of the fish.

I know I don’t regret feeding them because of the fact I forget (have forgotten) that they are my responsibility, and I need to make up for it. It’s too late not to feel that way. Everything after that is perhaps regrettable, but then how do you fight the multitudes? Is that even the point?

Not when the fish are starving.

No, not then.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Animals, Dreams, Pets

Lay of the Land

Some people are landscapes, and I catch myself staring at them so that I can take them in; their vistas, outlines and curves and bends. Each and every one of their distinguishing (and distinguished, depending, frankly, on the face) features.

It’s something I’ve done since as long as I can remember.

(And I remember getting into more than one schoolyard fight for “staring hard” at other kids and, once, as a first grader, getting into it deep a sixth grader whose prominent brow, delicate nose and permanently puckered mouth was like staring into the very depths of a suddenly de-randomized, nearly cogent universe…I feel like I was very close to something then, even if that something ended up chasing me back to the little kids’ side of the schoolyard, fists like cinder blocks raised in semi-righteous anger, puckered mouth ruining itself like a torn suture as they raged on at me).

It’s true, though: sometimes they catch me, the people do, staring at them. Taking them in. My options then are very limited. 1) Ignore and break away, or 2) Keep right on staring. Very little needs to be said in the moment.

Look. It’s not personal. You just have an interesting smile, a striking pose, an odd jawline, great limbs, a kind expression (or a monstrous one).

These are not compliments or criticisms or facts.

Just me, taking in the lay of the land and then moving on so we can both get on with the rest of our lives.

Now doesn’t that sound nice – isn’t that OK – if not totally one hundred percent reasonable?

 

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Childhood, Hobbies, Mind and Body, People, School, THE PAST

Frequency

If it wasn’t for the radio, I’d never be introduced to new music (new and new to me “new”).

What is this a sign of? Advancing age? The times?

If I am listening to the radio, I am likely in the car (the stations are pre-set from the previous owner so I just mash at them till I find something that I like or don’t dislike). Or I’m at the office. Or someone else’s office, the doctor’s, say, or the dentist’s.

But offices tend towards Top 40, which to the untrained ear (mine) sound like one long indistinguishable song with commercials jammed in at prescribed intervals.

Or they play “oldies,” the criteria for which are becoming increasingly arbitrary with time (like 50’s “Oldies”, 90s “Throwbacks”?). No help there, not for the uninitiated.

At my previous office, they played talk radio and podcasts. Even less help there. For all I know, they’re playing such things still. No music. No new (or “new”) music.

As for me, I will continue to experience new music as it comes, one song at a time, one car ride at any given time…

Unless I hook up the Bluetooth – which of course I will – with my playlist of exactly 8 songs, circa 2003.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Change, Jobs, Music, Pop Culture, Transportation