Post Amniotic

(Yes, not the best. Too tight. Too controlled. I can feel it, but perhaps something to push something else out. Who knows. - re-revised. I like it better this way.)

Let the days fall
post amniotic.

Rake the heartbeat,
ancient whirr inside the womb.

Autumn in the nursery,
transposing every bone.

Ripples

Good news all around, publications, promotions, payoffs. Creekside I'm still sorting things.

A picture turned up this week in an old backpack, our house, circa '87, before Tom and Jojo, before the flower beds, before the mass of trees. It must have been late September, maybe October, because that maple tree that fell over one day in the storm is still standing with a crown of yellow leaves. There is no dogwood, no row of blue spruce, no 40-foot tulip trees, no volunteer cedar or catalpa. It seems like I've been standing still for a long time, but apparently that is not exactly true. Or maybe it is exactly true and trees are what happen when you don't move.

Regardless, the Monday morning epiphanies keep resounding. Something like, yes, yes, the trees are beautiful, but the party's moved, or some old cliche like that. Anyway, the long and the short of it is, I'm thinking about giving up my beloved freedom, the proofreading, and going out into the world and getting a job. On Monday the urge felt quite a bit stronger than "I am thinking about," but it is good to let passions cool before acting rashly. It's Friday now. I can slowly think things through, thoughts like, You're going to have a Bachelor of Arts in English. What job? Well, that is a problem, and no, I don't have anything in particular in mind. David suggested as an alternative I might take up drinking, but I am so bad at it that I am sure to fail and I hate to go into anything that I don't have a chance of success at. I'm going to keep it in mind as a backup plan, though, just in case I can't find a position that suits.

So that's how the trees stand this week, a slight ripple in the leaves.

Buttermilk or Whole Wheat

I can't be certain, but it does seem like the pancake below is trying to say something. Does anyone else feel that way?

And on, and on, and on

Okay. I couldn't resist. I took the animal quiz, too. There does seem to be a theme.

You're a Rabbit!

Sure-footed and exceptional at hearing, you have a great number of
physical talents. While you do love carrots, you have an aversion to lettuce that
no one seems to really believe. Looney Tunes have been your favorite cartoons for
as long as you can remember. Though you'd never admit it, you've always wondered
what it would feel like to be thrown into a briar patch. You really like, er,
procreating, even more than most people.


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Obviously

Thanks, Talia!

Somehow, this all seemed a little inevitable. And yes, I have actually read Watership Down, many eons ago. It probably entered my DNA when I was a teenager and is still working its way out.

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Repapering

Veni, vidi - I dropped all my classes. Monday morning light is illuminating. I just have a few general ed loose ends to tie up to complete my English degree and I thought I would take the 100-level course route. After two classes I thought I would slit my wrists. Think of it. The glorious liveliness of flowing blood, maybe the sound of a siren. Instead, I threw away my old schedule, signed up for Scanlan's E304, where at least I believe the people have blood, and some 200-level Russian history class, the only thing left, it seems. I'm now Tuesday-Thursday girl instead of Monday-Wednesday girl. I won't have long weekends and short school days. I have no idea how I'm going to get to IUSB, since this schedule conflicts with Jojo's high school schedule. It doesn't matter. I will sleep in the English lounge and talk with living people! That was a close one. Every once in a while good sense kicks in and I do the right thing.

The Great Disaster of 2007

Rain, rain, and more rain. The duck weed pond remained out of reach all week, the creek flooded, the footpath submerged. Then at last, yesterday, the sun. In the evening the waters subsided enough that walking the path was possible without being swept away.

Okay, yes, I did have to take off my shoes and wade through some mud. Squish, squish, squish, slippery creek mud around my ankles, in between my toes. Perhaps there will be a great disaster in the next few days, say a meteor, something spectacular, a quick death, not like the relatively slow effects of global warming, and my footprints will become fossilized and thousands of years from now someone will discover them and say, "Look, footprints, along this ancient creek bed. This unfortunate woman was probably fleeing from the great disaster, the meteor of 2007, (except they won't call it that) but it overtook her. Isn't it wonderful that we have her footprints here immortalized in the mud to forever mark her passing! Poor thing." Young children will come to look and study the distance between each of my toes and the length of my stride. They'll test the mud to see if there are any traces of foot fungus. They'll probably mark the place where I almost lost my balance and left long skid marks. They will argue about whether or not I was a lousy walker, unbalanced to begin with, or whether the mud in this particular place was just so slippery I was bound to slide. Oh, I imagine they're going to have fun with me, let me tell you. But they probably won't be able to tell I was headed for the duck weed pond and its green serenity. They certainly won't know that all the duck weed was missing, swept down the creek in the rain.

Pete Seeger - Abiyoyo

For Rebecca (and Jesus, too.)

The Bride

And for Talia, a picture of the dog bride, Ms. Cosy. And they all lived happily ever after.

The Knot

It's done. Everything went beautifully. Only one person had to leave by ambulance with a broken leg. Unfortunately that was the videographer, but there will be plenty of pictures anyway. Petey wouldn't stay in his tux, but he was very popular anyway.