A Spider Ditty

There’s a spider living behind my bathroom door
Snaring the things that I abhor
At first I stared, squeamish about her,
But soon found she was really no bother
She was still as stone when I first sat down
A dark black mixed with a little brown
When they scamper and scuttle across,
Goosebumps break out like patches of moss

But still she is now, fishing with a dainty net
She caught that mosquito from last night, I bet
For now I’ll spare the shoe and the jar—
Share space with an alien more comfortable afar
If she makes no move towards my tushy bare
There’s no telling how long I might leave her there
I’ll share her with my family when they get home—
To provide sanctuary for this strange unknown.

-- Grace


Art by Susan Seddon Boulet-- 'Shaman Spider Woman'

Successful Release

Yes it's true...after three years-- THREE!-- of caring for him and feeding him and cleaning his tank it its entirety and sucking up the poo from his gravel and buying crickets...........

It's happened. We've let him go.

The turtle is free.

(sigh)

Although a gift to my son from his grandparents, he had ultimately become 'mine'. Not that D didn't love him, and he used to get loads of excitement from feeding him worms in front of his friends, watching their little bodies gush in the water as he sliced them neatly in two. The turtle, not D. Trying my best not to raise a serial killer, you know. Although from what I've heard of the mothers of serial killers, they have no idea how or why or when it started to happen, so perhaps it is something one is born with.

But I digress.

The only trouble with a five, six, seven-year-old keeping a turtle as a pet is that they cannot seem to help much with the upkeep. You have to ciphon off the water into a bucket that then has to be dumped into the sink, or you have to use a hose in which case you have to hold it firmly while it sucks up all the water, and then you have to take out all the big heavy rocks and faux rocks that the turtle climbs on and digs into and clean them with a brush within an inch of their lives, and you have to clean the filter, taking it apart bit by bit and scrubbing at all the mechanisms.

In the end, it was just easier if I did it. And so if it didn't get done, the tank would develop a smell akin to that of plant material staying in a vase for too long. Unpleasant. It took me an hour to clean his tank, sometimes one and a half if it needed to be done very thoroughly. And then there was the aspect of a living creature that was growing quite well being confined year after year in a twenty-nine gallon tank. Anything bigger and I wouldn't be able to manipulate it to clean. Not to mention the fact that I live in a townhouse, which are not known for their excessive counter space.

In the meantime, D had all but forgotten about the turtle, whose name is Trach. (Read as 'Track', for trachedermys-- or some such spelling-- which is their genus name.) I would watch him as the days would go by and he wouldn't even go up to the tank to greet the gently paddling amphibian. Even I had stopped holding him and wiping his shell and talking to him. Life happens and goes by so quickly.

A dog is under your feet right when you walk in the door. It's vying for your attentions every second it's not napping or eating. They are easy to cuddle and very easy to play with: tag, chase, tug-o-war, hide-n-seek, beast and knight. It's endless. The turtle? You watch him eat a cricket or two and he does that cute thing with his front feet........and that's about the extent of the excitement. I personally loved watching him swim around, when his water wasn't filthy. Writing a lot lately has really put a damper on my turtle gazing, and the smell in the tank was getting progressively worse.

This is an extravagant lead-up to us releasing him into a little pond behind our tiny city's library. The pond itself always has ducks and fish and other 'stuff' in it, so I know it's a working ecosystem. As far as I've seen, there doesn't seem to be any other turtles there either, so it's open season as far as territory goes. Now he is male, and there is a chance that he might go wandering for a female. But if he chooses to stay, it looks like it would make a nice home.

He rode in the front seat of the Isuzu, in a white plastic bowl with a red lid on it to keep the water from sloshing out. (Mama was driving, after all.) D kept asking me what was in the bowl, and I kept answering him with, 'you'll see.' He and I had been having the discussion about getting rid of Trach for about six months, and it had ended in tears and shaking bottom lips, (his, not mine.) and so I had put it off. But it was time. And I was going to allow him to face his sadness at Trach's departure, not just suddenly realize that the turtle was magically 'gone'.

It's painful, yes, but necessary to learn how to part with things, even if you love them and wish they could stay. At times it is just better for everyone, the keeper and the kept.

He blended in well with the leaf litter at the base of the pond and the mud. He looked like he really belonged there. He turned and gave us one last long look before turning his little red-eared self around and ducking beneath the water, heading out at a brisk paddle into the darker depths of the pond. A mama duck swam by with her ducklings. A few tadpoles wriggled by.

It is a good place for a turtle. My son was actually happy to see him go, and to know that he was so close to us. There were no tears, just a faint feeling of sadness and hope.

Spring Cleaning Frenzy

Just the thought of it normally makes my scalp itch. But somehow...someway...it has grabbed hold of me recently. The funny thing is, though I like it when my home resembles a place where people could feasibly 'pop' by and I wouldn't die of embarrassment, I'm still disgruntled that I had to spend my 'off' time from work to, well...work. At home.

At some point last week, I woke up at around four in the morning and just decided to clean my house and TRY to organize it as if it really were my castle, and I, its procrastinating Queen. I poke at it a lot, but just don't keep it up. The Chaos Theory is alive and well here, believe me.

So for some reason, my son's room came first, as we've already laid a new floor downstairs. The downstairs has its problems-- least of which being the detritus from laying said flooring as the tools still inhabit the table on which they were finally perched as if any moment now we'll suddenly realize that we've done it all wrong and have to take up the whole of it and try it again. But for the most part, the downstairs is habitable.

'D' is turning eight this year, and there were just a few things I wanted to accomplish in order to get him ready for the looming 'big boy' years. More serious chores are high on the list, and keeping his room clean is going to be one of them. So, in all fairness because kids really have a hard time sorting out their stuff, I told him that I would take all the things out that he thought were too babyish, and put a few things in there that bespoke more of his gently maturing nature.

In with the good, out with the bad. A good lesson for him. He did very well at letting things go-- better than I did, to be quite honest. I was proud of this buddhist side of him.

A trip to Goodwill and several dumpster-loads later, and we had gotten half the goal under our belt. A trip to Target and then to WallyWorld gave us the other half of the plan, put in place just in time for him to have a new friend over this weekend for a little R&R in his new-ish pad.

Much of this was done on Thursday, my first day off this week. I finished the little details and also made a huge sweep of the downstairs today, my second day off.

My days off are leaving me more tired than my work days.

But I cannot bear to think that the rest of the house looks good while my bedroom-- my private boudior, my peaceful nook away from the rest of the house- nay, the rest of the world!- should go lacking. So it would appear that the next couple of days off are going to be centered around cleaning out a sadly neglected closet and organizing my piles of art debris that have just been accumulating like so much dandruff on a pair of black-knit-clad shoulders.

As an aside, I have discovered that drinking lots of water is, in fact, good for me. Are you as shocked as I am??? I mean, just because it's in all the health magazines and all over the latest medical news updates doesn't make it true, you know! Geesh! I have to trip and FALL face first into some things apparently.

I have been drinking at least 50 ounces every day-- and a bit more if I can manage it, especially if I've been sweating-- for about a week now. I don't feel nearly as hungry-- and I don't mean that to sound like I'm so full of water that I can't eat. Oh, I eat. REAL hunger sets in just like it did before. But if I sip between meals, I'm not grumpy and gnawing at my own leg when it comes time to actually eat something. My bowel movements are incredible. (Regular, easily passed, keeping me from feeling so inflated. You know, things I've not felt ever. I've always been somewhat incontinent. And I don't mean living in the USA.)

But in general, I just feel..........

Better. Which was one of my main goals this year. Body, mind and soul. It's time for me to feel GOOD about myself, about my life, my decisions, my current state and my hope for the future. I had already begun to grip a lifelong depression by the horns last year, and now I'm letting bits of it peek outwardly. It's a long, slow process, but one I'm very excited about, even with the little triumphs.

Spring cleaning, inside and out if you will. Hmm. And as always, thanks for listening to my ramblings about these little triumphs.

Visual DNA

This was quite fun...thanks for sharing it! I like the similarities between us, and the differences as well.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Apple Picking is OVER!!!!

It's sad, really, how I just re-opened this as an after-thought today. I have been writing-- been producing temendous amounts of writing all things considered-- but just...

Not posting anything here. There will probably only be one or perhaps two of you who will care enough to stop in anymore, and for that, I thank you. You've clearly made it into the annals of my heart for your perseverance alone, not to mention your utter and complete faith in the face of my inexorable procrastination.

I've decided to post thoughts, animal sightings, and tidbits from my 'other' writing here, just to fill in some blank pages, to not leave this standing here waiting for a date that never shows.

So for the lack of posting, to you my one (or two) most noble of friends, I thank you and apologize and grovel before your loyalty to me. May it ever be repaid in random kindness around you, and in my loyalty to you as well.

Pht.

Thought: DAY-um, it's been a long time since I posted on my blog. Perhaps I should go remedy that???

Animal: a falcon flew over my and my neighbor's head this morning not fifteen feet above us. Beautiful bird, fast as a jet. Clearly hunting one of the neighbor's many stray cats. Heh.

Tidbit: Gentle at first was the breeze blowing through the tree tops as the mid-morning sun rose well above the horizon. In spite of the timeless star’s burning glow, however, it brought little heat, and so the mist continued to roll in like a sly grey beast sneaking up from the valley, stalking its way through the underbrush and hulking close to the ground. It retained the chill of early morning to its last whispery breath, exhaled through frost-laden teeth. Tendrils of cool air born of the Fallomik River wove their way between the large chestnut, oak, and maple trees, crisping the leaves and slowing the sap within each ancient trunk. A group of crows complained noisily of stiff joints as small rodents lost in the leaf litter were chilled down to their whiskers. Tiny insects burrowed tightly into their hidden niches, not yet willing to venture out to forage. Even the fairies huddled closer together within their beds of milkweed down and feathers, afraid that the stretch of wings might break them off in the face of such cold.

Apple Picking

We had surprise fun today-- apple picking in an orchard about an hour north of here, sort of spur of the moment-like. It was too much to resist-- actual apples from actual apple trees. My son had fun picking the biggest fruit, and I found dodging the gynormous hornets that were buried deep in the rotting fruit scattered along under the trees very exciting.

I thought it was good that he see an actual fruit tree, and pick something from it, knowing later when he ate it that it's true-- the Earth gives us what we need in its all-knowing way. Sheer natural perfection.

He definitely enjoyed the pig race as well. Sheer country boredom.

I recall being bored beyond reason when I was young. I spent a lot of time in rural areas, even though I've been living near the city now for over twenty years. Still, the painful afternoons of time creeping by at a snail's pace is something not easily forgotten. Had I had access to pigs, I'm certain that I would have raced them too, and probably dressed them up in funny clothes and trained them to sit still at a tea party in the mud hole. Being an only child in the middle of the sticks is really a practice in the growth of patience. And in imagination. Which explains why I have such a calling for tedious artwork.

Anyway, I wholly recommend taking the youngsters-- and even ourselves-- to a farm where they grow apples, or pumpkins since 'tis the season. It's a bit crowded on the weekends, yes. But the mule drawn hayrides are so fun, and the press of people to buy simple things like apple butter and apple cider is intoxicating. You'd think they didn't offer such commodities in Kroger. And of course, they don't, at this value per actual tastiness.

There's something else you won't find at Kroger, though I'm of a mind that it might be a good thing that you don't. They had a kind of museum-- at least, that was what they were calling it. A Moonshine Museum. You walk along this old converted barn that still carries the stink of a multitude of animals living out their lives there, staring at the ill-painted signs denoting the different kinds of moonshine-making apparati available back when the craze was hitting the mountain folk. And as you shuffle along, you can see where the demarcation occurs after they've run out of examples to show of the main draw, in which case they begin to set up little dioramas of country life 'way back when', with a farming couple sitting around the fire; she with her sewing and he with a pipe in his mouth. Normally these sorts of things are pleasant, drawing in our memories pictures of ancestors and the kinds of lives they must have led when the country was still young and sans electricity.

But in these particular setups, they were apparently operating on a farming budget, because the people were not mannequins or even remote replicas of actual pioneering people. Oh, no. These people were stuffed shirts and pants with straw, with heads made from halfway deflated playing balls, topped with strange and unusual and unmatching masks haphazardly attached to them. The children looked downright freakish, and more than a few of the adults were sporting altered Halloween masks, simply repainted to look more 'normal'. I'm telling you, it was SO creepy!

But the apples were good, and the mules were tolerant of our patting hands, so all in all, an experience to have and to hold. I'll let you know if there are any nightmare flashbacks from the diorama 'country folk'.

Happy Apple Pickin' to you all.

Where DOES the time go???

That was an unexpected absence from blogging...

Life just filled up and spilled over into all my free time a couple of weeks ago. The most I can do in a short period of time is let you all know what's been going on in synopsis form, and then I can write again about frivolous things.

Let's see...My birthday was last week. (35 and feeling it) I spent the week juggling family and friends and family that don't get along and friends that do, etc. Fun!!

We've been trying to adjust to D's workload from school. This is not the second grade that I remember, let me just say that out loud and for the record!

I started a pottery class, which will help with Christmas/Solstice gifts as I'm finally getting good enough to classify my pieces as 'worthy of gifting' to people other than my mom, who loves just about everything I do. I'm carving into some of the pieces this time as well to personalize them more, which is, of course, much more time consuming.

I've actually begun to work exercise into my weekly regimen. There goes free time for blogging right there. Don't ask which one I'd rather be doing-- I'm trying to trick myself into thinking that exercise is GOOD FOR ME. And NOT BORING. And WORTH THE TIME.

Did I mention that I work full time? Or that I've been waiting about three months now for a raise that, so far, has not made it to my paycheck? Or that I'm highly addicted to the Sims 2 video game on my son's Nintendo DS?

Time management is getting beaten to death in my daily routine. I consider myself lucky that I have clean underwear most mornings, and that there is food in the house. I've also taken the 'I am SO fed up with the clutter around here that I AM going to do something about it, even if it kills me in the process!!!' attitude towards the state of my abode.

What's been going on with you all??? :-)

Autumn in the Air

Fall is coming.

Can you smell it? Not in the middle of the balmy day, no...but in the morning before the sun comes up. There's just something that changes in September. The rain is becoming refreshing-- not just an excuse for the asphalt to steam and the humidity to reach 100% without actual rain in the forecast.

Everything outside my window is wet and lush and dripping. You can hear the plants and trees heave a huge sigh of relief. Even the birds pick up the pace, having finished raising the babies. They can now become introspective once more.

I feel autumn under my skin like an impending excitement. I always have. Summer beats down on me, Spring drives me out of my peaceful frame of mind, and winter-- which is a close second to autumn-- can get drepressing. But the oncoming autumnal season makes me want to cavort out in the swaying grass, and run like a horse with the coursing thunderstorms.



Mushrooms in the yard? Delightful fairy rings! Being able to play outside without sweating to death? Invigorating! Purchasing Halloween signs and stuffed crows to adorn the foyer? PRICELESS!



Cheers to you all with the onset of Fall!

How do the seasons effect you? Just curious...