The Good Will

 Today I gave Goodwill a massive, ripped, soft double bass case, a fan with a detached front grill, a box of Halloween costumes that have been in the attic for 20 years, a cat scratching post and 3 bags of old clothes.  The gentleman who took my belongings repeatedly thanked me for my donations, but I sensed, from the look in his eyes, that he was shocked that anyone would be donating such worthless nonsense. 

An older woman, also dropping stuff off, asked me if I had a cat.  I said that our son and his partner visited us during the pandemic and brought their cat and dog, but alas they had left months ago.  She said, "My cat died. She's been gone for seven months and I still can't bring myself to get rid of her things.  I miss her so, but  I'm too old to get another one."  

Then she held up a plunger that still had the tag on it and said, "They wouldn't let me return this to the store, but I never used it.  I wasn't strong enough to push it down."  

I thought that she must have used the plunger.  Unsuccessfully, perhaps, but used it nevertheless.  I could see she was embarrassed to be donating it, but why live in denial about the plunger's past? 

A friend told me that he sometimes brings stuff to Goodwill at midnight so he doesn't have to see the reactions of the workers. I considered doing this, but I gathered gumption and drove over to face the music in broad daylight.

I guess we're all just doing our best and we need to forget the rest.   

Shout out to the Goodwill workers for helping me through the shame of donating trash to their store. 

The Sabbath

Dale Enochs Time Flow

We have a neighbor who has been working for well over a year fixing up the house next door.  He bought the house in a state of disrepair and now he works on it every day.  Even on the weekends.  When's he going to be done?   His working all the time is starting to get on my nerves.  Right now he's over there carrying two by fours around. Sometimes you've got to stop working and rest your body and mind.  Especially on a Saturday. Let's respect the Sabbath, my friends. 

And by Sabbath, I mean the day of abstinence from working, and I do not mean a meeting of witches with the devil. Let's be clear about that. 

The Novel

Nancy's Photo:  Cecropia Moth

 I finished a great book yesterday -- Nothing to See Here -- by Kevin Wilson.  I was charmed by the characters, two of whom spontaneously combust from time to time. In his Author's Note, Kevin Wilson writes about his childhood feeling that he might combust and he also describes feelings of anxiety that are part and parcel of his personality.

 I love when a quick read also has so many things to think about along the way.  One of his other books, Family Fang, is also excellent. Husbandman and 30 Something also enjoyed this book.  So did KC and Nancer and Mary Morris in California.  Have you read it yet and if not, why not?

 Kevin Wilson lives in Tennessee, so Husbandman and I are driving down there this weekend to meet him and to discuss some ideas for his next novel, which deals with a math professor who goes on sabbatical to a foreign country and abandons his wife when he decides to become an undercover investigator. Then the wife also becomes a private investigator of sorts.  Husbandman is going to help Kevin with some math stuff for the book. 

The Moth

 

Nancer went away for a week and asked me to watch over a cecropia cocoon. Every day, following Nancer's directions,  I would squirt some water on to the cocoon.  Today I went to water the cocoon and a stunning cecropia moth startled the heck out of me.  I called Nancer who I knew to be recently home from her trip and she hurried right over.  I didn't get good photos of the cecropia, but I think Nancer will send me some this evening when she offers the moth its freedom. 

The cecropia moth, as you may know, is North America's largest moth.  Its wing span can be up to 7 inches.  Nancer's cecropia was absolutely stunning and I wish I could keep it with me forever.  The problem is that this beautiful moth only has a couple of weeks to live.  It will mate and then, if female, lay some eggs on some leaves.  This cecropia moth has no mouth, nor digestive system. It doesn't eat.  It has a job to do and it's going to get it done.  The female cecropia emits some pheromones to attract the males, who can detect her emissions from a mile away. 

Geez Louise.  These moths are fascinating. 

The Moon Intentions

 KC has gotten me interested in crystals and tarot and moon intentions.  These are the stones I bought.  And you can see they do look powerful. 

This morning I wished that our lawn could be mowed and guess what?  The guy who always waits weeks and weeks to mow our lawn showed up an hour later and mowed it.  Husbandman pointed out that he texted the guy yesterday to give him another friendly reminder, but I believe the wishing, and the crystals, contributed to my wish coming true.

I have 9 other wishes written down.  I'll read my wishes under the light of the new moon in a few days.  The crystals will be there with me, glowing gloriously.  

Do you use crystals when making moon intentions? If so, that's pretty awesome.  If not, maybe give it a try on June 10 with the next new moon.  KC said we could also do some ecstatic dancing. I'll see how I feel on June 10 and dance if I feel like it.

The Walking Stick

 Father's Day is coming up.  I'm thinking about buying my dad some hiking sticks so he can hike the Appalachian Trail this autumn.  

There are different schools of thoughts on hiking sticks.  Some people say that one stick is enough, but two sticks are essential if you're carrying a 70 pound pack and hiking over scree (slopes covered with loose rocks).

Many people even find one pole sufficient for fording rivers and streams. I'll probably just buy my dad one stick.

My dad hasn't expressed much interest in the trail, but I believe the hiking stick will provide motivation.  I'm going to visit my dad later this month.  I'm hoping to put away his walker and get him training around the kitchen with the walking stick. 

Dale "Graybeard" Sanders is currently the oldest person who has hiked the Appalachian Trail. When he was 82, he hiked the entire trail in seven months.  I'm out to see my dad beat Graybeard's records in age and time. He's 92 and I'll put money on Dad completing the trail in less than six months. 

Counting Crows

Cora looked out her window.  She saw a crow in the garden.  Another crow on the old maple tree. A third crow standing smack in the middle of the driveway.   "What is this, a crow convention?" she muttered, tapping on the glass.  She poured a cup of coffee and returned to the window. The crows were still there.  Cora saw another land on a lower branch in the maple.

Two in the tree, one in the driveway and one in the garden. This is going to be a problem.  What if more come?  There could be thirty crows in the driveway by the time I finish this cup of coffee.  What if they don't move when I try to leave?  Should I plow them down?  Then I'll probably have to dispose of the carcasses.  Probably have to pick dead crow out of the car grill with a screwdriver which last time I looked I couldn't find.  If I injure a few, I'll have to find cardboard boxes and drive them over to the animal care center.  Can't leave them out there writhing in pain waiting to die. What am I going to say to the animal care volunteers when I drop them off?  "I ran these crows over with my car because they wouldn't leave my driveway?" There's no way I'm picking up injured crows with those vicious sharp beaks.  How could I drive anyway with them distracting me with their crazy cawing?  I should probably call and cancel my meeting with that so called social worker. These crows look like they're settling in for the day.  At this rate, there'll be 60 mixing and mingling like it's happy hour by lunch time. Who could blame someone for getting rid of them with a vehicle or a hatchet or even a pistol if they owned one? I've read that crows are clever birds.  I see these four signaling to each other with their blinks and wing gestures.  I'll have to wait them out.  The social worker will understand.  She's used to me cancelling appointments. 

The Final Week

 3 more days with the Thirdlanders.  I've loved this class AND we're all ready for summer vacation.  We have cicadas all over the place here and they're making recess a jolly good time. 

The main hassle for me right now is this.  I have to pack up all my teaching stuff and haul it all home because next year we'll be on a sabbatical leave.  Word on the street is we'll be spending some time in Lyon and then in Paris.  

So, if I can get through all this packing and end of year rigamarole, good times are on the horizon. I have a lot of stuff to sort through.  I know I shouldn't complain because I'm lucky and all that, but it's not going to be much fun getting this room packed up, my friends.  Husbandman says he'll help me.

We'll do our best and forget the rest. 

The Potato and the Teacher

A teacher and a potato

were dancing at the prom

They shimmied and shagged and shuffled

People said they were the bomb

 

At the end of the night they were hungry

so they went out  for a basket of fries

as they ate,  potato and teacher

stared into each other's eyes

 

The night was finally over

So they bid a fond good bye

The potato sang to the teacher

a hash brown lullabye

 

The teacher felt lucky yet wistful

for the night time of memories she'd stashed

for in the news the next morning

she read her potato was mashed

 

3 years 3 months ago

 a cup of coffee

a valentine

a photo of magnolia blossoms texted this way

a game of cards where everyone cares about the other people more than winning the round

a squirrel uses his tail to wave hello before hopping to another whole tree altogether 

for some reason

i'm thinking 

of 

my heart's 

desires

The Sunshine

We have a couple of fine Farmer's Markets in our town. Husbandman and I visited both this morning in search of carrots, bread and also flowers to plant in the garden. Our teeny side garden is in shade most of the day, but I always buy flowers that say, "Plant in Full Sun," because I like those flowers the best.  I take my chances and roll the dice year after year, and usually the plants grow for awhile, sprout a flower or two, and then stall out, failing to thrive. I spent several hours this afternoon planting marigolds, nasturtium and lantana. All these flowers prefer to be planted in areas that get a lot of sun.  I think this will be the year that my luck changes because as I planted, I talked with each plant about why its location should be fine and gave each various words of encouragement.