October, my favorite month
Out of control sugar cravings
Oy, the sweet temptations*
Oh, the compulsive sweeping of leaves
Owing to deferred maintenance,
the hOuse inside is haunted by dust bunnies
ghOulish garbage and stacked
maggOt-zines.
Orange colored skies,
gOrgeous pumpkin pies have
given way to Outlandish plastic buckets
full Of sweets
NOw it's time to say
gOod night.
GOod night, sleep tight.
Happy All HallOw's Eve!
DOn't let the
bed bOoogs bite!
*Lucky me! My honey is taking me to see the Temptations musical very sOOOOOOOn!
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Monday, October 23, 2017
All Hallows Heave
On this coming All Hallow's Eve
How many goodies shall we leave
When we head across town to
Celebrate with family who
Live on a street with lots of kids
Trick or Treating with their sibs?
At the old house every year,
Warlocks & witches would come near
Our new neighbor kids seem missing in action
Halloween on the hill gives no satisfaction
On the night of boos & ghouls
Do they seek out malls and schools?*
Where do all the children go?
No candles in carved pumpkins glow
Not one ballerina, nor comic hero
Do I hear the fiddler Nero?
How many costumes? How 'bout ZERO?
Am I simply being romantic?
Is this vacuum symptomatic?
Life now feels so automatic.
Lives are busy, this we know
Can we conjure olden times slow?
Popcorn balls and apples caramelled
Homemade treats still unparalleled
In this age of fear and compromise
It's not just milk that we homogenize
One size fits most; experience blended
Originality used to be splendid
Where are the pirates with charcoaled cheeks
And ghosts made up of household sheets?
Store-bought masks replace bound-with-laces-
Handmade costumes and painted faces
We champion diversity in Oakland's city
Yet the pop-up sellers of atrocity
Sell electronic decorations that dart
Or shriek or moan or smell of farts
Hobbling us to putrid conformity
Wreaking of stifled uniformity
Life with nearby community
Has much to offer you and me
Beyond the night of bats and clowns
All other nights the whole year 'round
We live near humans rich in wisdom
Stories ignite communal vision
We may learn more from those who're different
From us; who had to keep their upper lip stiffer when
Through adversities they had to go
Hearing their lessons helps us to grow
As we listen with our hearts open
For world-wide softening is what I'm hopin'
Coming soon, the night of wonder
Hoping the Orange Trumpkin doesn't blunder
Ripping the entire world asunder
Hell's fury sounds a mighty thunder
While he rants & tweets at each broadcaster
I fear this most unnatural disaster
Every atomic tweet I hear
Ramps up ever growing fear
That life on earth which we hold dear
Will end up on a funeral bier
But come, my friends, let's strike a chord
Turn against the ugly hoard
Of divisiveness and rancor
Let melody & harmony be our anchor
Happy Halloween!
* Our Nextdoor Neighborhood chat site contemplated this question. Answers to why there are no kids here on Halloween include naming our neighborhood unsafe because it's poorly lit and there are no curbs, and the lure of wonderful venues where kids can show off their costumes in the light of the mall and consume a LOT of candy given out by shop-keepers.
Still, I wish I could take the granddaughter and her pals back in a time machine to the "fun house" we neighborhood kids constructed in howling winds October 1958 - complete with sensory delights like peeled grapes for eye-balls, cooked spaghetti for brains and walking on eggshells meant to simulate broken glass.
Moms sixty years ago certainly allowed for messier celebrations than most kids are allowed currently.
How many goodies shall we leave
When we head across town to
Celebrate with family who
Live on a street with lots of kids
Trick or Treating with their sibs?
At the old house every year,
Warlocks & witches would come near
Our new neighbor kids seem missing in action
Halloween on the hill gives no satisfaction
On the night of boos & ghouls
Do they seek out malls and schools?*
Where do all the children go?
No candles in carved pumpkins glow
Not one ballerina, nor comic hero
Do I hear the fiddler Nero?
How many costumes? How 'bout ZERO?
Am I simply being romantic?
Is this vacuum symptomatic?
Life now feels so automatic.
Lives are busy, this we know
Can we conjure olden times slow?
Popcorn balls and apples caramelled
Homemade treats still unparalleled
In this age of fear and compromise
It's not just milk that we homogenize
One size fits most; experience blended
Originality used to be splendid
Where are the pirates with charcoaled cheeks
And ghosts made up of household sheets?
Store-bought masks replace bound-with-laces-
Handmade costumes and painted faces
We champion diversity in Oakland's city
Yet the pop-up sellers of atrocity
Sell electronic decorations that dart
Or shriek or moan or smell of farts
Hobbling us to putrid conformity
Wreaking of stifled uniformity
Life with nearby community
Has much to offer you and me
Beyond the night of bats and clowns
All other nights the whole year 'round
We live near humans rich in wisdom
Stories ignite communal vision
We may learn more from those who're different
From us; who had to keep their upper lip stiffer when
Through adversities they had to go
Hearing their lessons helps us to grow
As we listen with our hearts open
For world-wide softening is what I'm hopin'
Coming soon, the night of wonder
Hoping the Orange Trumpkin doesn't blunder
Ripping the entire world asunder
Hell's fury sounds a mighty thunder
While he rants & tweets at each broadcaster
I fear this most unnatural disaster
Every atomic tweet I hear
Ramps up ever growing fear
That life on earth which we hold dear
Will end up on a funeral bier
But come, my friends, let's strike a chord
Turn against the ugly hoard
Of divisiveness and rancor
Let melody & harmony be our anchor
Happy Halloween!
* Our Nextdoor Neighborhood chat site contemplated this question. Answers to why there are no kids here on Halloween include naming our neighborhood unsafe because it's poorly lit and there are no curbs, and the lure of wonderful venues where kids can show off their costumes in the light of the mall and consume a LOT of candy given out by shop-keepers.
Still, I wish I could take the granddaughter and her pals back in a time machine to the "fun house" we neighborhood kids constructed in howling winds October 1958 - complete with sensory delights like peeled grapes for eye-balls, cooked spaghetti for brains and walking on eggshells meant to simulate broken glass.
Moms sixty years ago certainly allowed for messier celebrations than most kids are allowed currently.
Monday, October 16, 2017
Burstin' Buttons
Our older daughter graduated Saturday from an arduous two-year Montessori Teacher Training program. It was such joy to witness her enthusiasm and grace as she MC'd the student part of the ceremony for her 15 classmates.
We, her peeps, are so proud of her that we're burstin' our buttons! We're also VERY happy to have her back. Her professors and examiners thanked us family members in the audience for our patience during this time of "Maximum Effort" - a commitment which all of these vibrant young women made and completed. The three-ring binder books they have created take up a minimum of two feet of shelf-space. The teaching tools they have fashioned from bits of ribbon, cardboard, felt, and ingenuity are sure to wow their students. I've heard that Daiso became their most frequented store for teeny tiny objects with which to construct lessons for eager young minds to tackle.
Maria Montessori, certainly knew how children learn and she developed methods for their guides (teachers) to keep curiosity alive in young ones.
I have to say, because it's true, that Mosa embodies the irresistible and genuine enthusiasm that makes wanting to learn contagious. Lucky are those who get to be in her classroom. Lucky is her daughter to have such a clever and hard-working mama. Lucky are we to have landed in a place (Oakland) where we got to support the process by hanging with our delightful eight-year-old granddaughter as part of the care-team while her mama BARTed over to San Francisco for school so many evenings and all day Saturdays these past two years.
How lucky we are to celebrate with both our daughters and the grandie, this monumental accomplishment. It gives such satisfaction to prepare a celebratory feast. My beloved and I feel extremely lucky to have daughters and granddaughter who are self-actualizing women all! Thank you for coming up for the weekend, Megan! Your presence makes such a positive difference.
We also count ourselves lucky to have a home. Ninety-thousand have had to be evacuated in the North Bay this past week. Many folks still are not sure whether their homes have been spared or devoured by hungry chaotic flames.
The Red Cross may be the most efficient organization for making things happen on the ground during the on-going relief effort. It's hard to stay away from the fire zone when so much work needs to be done ASAP to support folks suffering horrific loss, but for now, the roads must be kept free for emergency vehicles. I was relieved to hear my high school buddy Judy's voice on the phone Saturday morning as she let us know she's safe and staying with a friend.
Many thanks to the persevering firefighters from all over the state and beyond. Gratitude too, for the inmates fighting the fires in Napa, Sonoma and Mendocino. The combined heroic efforts seem finally to have turned the tide as of Sunday. Containment is increasing. While there are still red-flag warnings for the tinder-dry hills in "Smokeland" where we live, we are, for the moment, also safe.
May all beings be safe, May all beings be healthy, May all beings be happy.
We, her peeps, are so proud of her that we're burstin' our buttons! We're also VERY happy to have her back. Her professors and examiners thanked us family members in the audience for our patience during this time of "Maximum Effort" - a commitment which all of these vibrant young women made and completed. The three-ring binder books they have created take up a minimum of two feet of shelf-space. The teaching tools they have fashioned from bits of ribbon, cardboard, felt, and ingenuity are sure to wow their students. I've heard that Daiso became their most frequented store for teeny tiny objects with which to construct lessons for eager young minds to tackle.
Maria Montessori, certainly knew how children learn and she developed methods for their guides (teachers) to keep curiosity alive in young ones.
I have to say, because it's true, that Mosa embodies the irresistible and genuine enthusiasm that makes wanting to learn contagious. Lucky are those who get to be in her classroom. Lucky is her daughter to have such a clever and hard-working mama. Lucky are we to have landed in a place (Oakland) where we got to support the process by hanging with our delightful eight-year-old granddaughter as part of the care-team while her mama BARTed over to San Francisco for school so many evenings and all day Saturdays these past two years.
How lucky we are to celebrate with both our daughters and the grandie, this monumental accomplishment. It gives such satisfaction to prepare a celebratory feast. My beloved and I feel extremely lucky to have daughters and granddaughter who are self-actualizing women all! Thank you for coming up for the weekend, Megan! Your presence makes such a positive difference.
* * * * * * * * *
We also count ourselves lucky to have a home. Ninety-thousand have had to be evacuated in the North Bay this past week. Many folks still are not sure whether their homes have been spared or devoured by hungry chaotic flames.
The Red Cross may be the most efficient organization for making things happen on the ground during the on-going relief effort. It's hard to stay away from the fire zone when so much work needs to be done ASAP to support folks suffering horrific loss, but for now, the roads must be kept free for emergency vehicles. I was relieved to hear my high school buddy Judy's voice on the phone Saturday morning as she let us know she's safe and staying with a friend.
Many thanks to the persevering firefighters from all over the state and beyond. Gratitude too, for the inmates fighting the fires in Napa, Sonoma and Mendocino. The combined heroic efforts seem finally to have turned the tide as of Sunday. Containment is increasing. While there are still red-flag warnings for the tinder-dry hills in "Smokeland" where we live, we are, for the moment, also safe.
May all beings be safe, May all beings be healthy, May all beings be happy.
Sunday, October 8, 2017
Tweets, Sweets, PRGs and Shame
There is danger in conducting international policy using 140 characters, especially if insults are being flung into space on the wingless tweets of a narcissist with intent to threaten a wildly irrational leader of a cold-war country north of South Korea, who seems intent upon lobbing a nuclear warhead into our country's space.
Sleeping soundly is no longer an option. I feel as if I've been flung back into junior high school when the bus ride to the campus took us seventh graders past house after house where fall-out shelters were being dug. Dreams of those days featured me weeping at the total extinction of all creatures on this beautiful earth. Somehow, I was looking down on the events from on high - as if from somewhere off-planet. If you've got coping mechanisms to share for use in these troubled times, I'm all ears.
Sleeping soundly is no longer an option. I feel as if I've been flung back into junior high school when the bus ride to the campus took us seventh graders past house after house where fall-out shelters were being dug. Dreams of those days featured me weeping at the total extinction of all creatures on this beautiful earth. Somehow, I was looking down on the events from on high - as if from somewhere off-planet. If you've got coping mechanisms to share for use in these troubled times, I'm all ears.
* * * * * * * * *
Celebrating the beginning of my 70th year over the weekend involved some sweet treats. In addition to some stellar flourless chocolate cake in the shape of a heart, thanks to my honey Marko Pun-O, there were various kinds of chocolates at a women's retreat I attended Friday through Sunday. Chocolate amongst friends seems to bond us, much the way a lovely wine may do by empowering us to bolder, more authentic disclosures.
* * * * * * * * *
I disclosed to my older daughter that on my way home from the retreat on Sunday, I stopped at a very crowded estate sale in the neighborhood. The reason this final day of a three day sale was swarming with people was that all were invited to fill a large packing box to the brim with ANYthing and pay only $5 for the total content. It was the fabric that was my downfall. Gorgeous fabrics and hand-tatted lace, hand knit scarves by the home's owner, who was there and with whom I had a lovely chat about her quilting days, Ukrainian cross-stitching, and downsizing. Clearly, she was ready to downsize. Clearly I'm still operating while at the effect of my family's curse: the PRG or the Pack Rat Gene. All fabric has since been washed and is now hanging over multiple chairs in the dining room to dry. Autumnal colors, vivid greens, batiks, silks, linens - just every sort of wonderfulness for projects well into the future. By my seventy-fifth birthday, if I haven't completed some of the dreamed-of quilts, collages or costumes, then please remind me it's time for my own garage sale, won't you?
* * * * * * * * *
The most salient nugget I brought away from the retreat has to do with shame and the pervasive quality of it among my sisters on the planet and me. I joke that if it's a smoggy day in LA, it's my fault. Sad but true to say, that's how I feel some days - as if I should be a better person and solve these problems that dog us all. Hyper-responsibility syndrome? Maybe.
It's no wonder that more realistic extensions of myself into the world, when not done to my highest standards cause me grief. I've been a non-blogger for two weeks preceding this entry. Mostly, for six and a half years, I've been showing up for myself as a writer, using My Monday Muse as a carrot in front of my nose to keep my chops oiled. I have little to no expectation that anyone is reading it. Most of it is, as the title states, merely musing. But when I don't follow through with my intent, I feel bad. So, I'm writing a mish-mosh now, as a place holder for better things to come... hopefully before my 75th year. I'm not sorry to be using more characters than the tweeter in chief.
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