Musings at 50

 Hello all, I am trying something new.  Follow me at my new home -https://librarygirl70.wordpress.com/2021/07/25/the-beginning/ Peace

 I am moving my blog to a new platform and procrastinating as usual. I have already started a Wordpress account and now I am just trying to find ways to personalize it and now after about a month or so I am hoping to make the switch. I will send out the link and the way to subscribe soon! I am also working on my book. I officially signed the contract on June 26 and met with my publisher on July 12. Now it is time to create a timeline that seems realistic and will not be a race for the end as most of my projects in past have seemed to be. Any ideas? I am working on a book for Arcadia Publishing called Spokane Parks. My first order of business is to find a bunch of images (200 or so). They will be black and white. I have a set of older negatives and images from the Spokane Parks Department I plan to digitize. But I am also looking for people who live in Spokane who may have enjoyed the parks in the Spokane area to show me their personal photos and share their stories with me. I am pl...

My heart is heavy today - this is the first 4th in a while that I have not gone to Iowa to celebrate the 4th with my family in Iowa. From a young age - we would drive the 12-14 hours from Newark, Ohio to Exira, Iowa. Spending time on my grandparents' farms seeing cousins, aunts, uncles and extended family. We congregated there for many reasons, but Exira will celebrate its 155th year this year of the 4th of July Celebration.   This is a town of farmers - people who worked the land to make a living. Many of these farmers came from farmers - not many of them had educations beyond 8th grade. They worked and shared and created a community where I could walk to the local grocery and ask them to put the items I purchased on my grandma's bill. My memories are of waking with the 6am cannon shot - getting ready in my red, white and blue for the parade - spending time at one grandparent's farm a ways from town, or at the others, right at the edge of town. Walking through a cornfield...

  Well, it is official, the PNW is having a heat wave. Yesterday it was 100. Today it will be higher, not sure what it will end up but it is predicted to be 105. That is right - 105. I thought to myself, how is this possible? For an area that is considered moderate - neither too hot or too cold. How can I be in a space where it will be 105 today? Let me be clear. I find temperatures above 70 to be too hot. In the winter my house is between 60-70 - usually 65 during the day, and 60 at night. I need it to be cool to sleep. In order to be active, I need it to be cool. I am amazed at people who embrace the heat. I am NOT one of them. I found out earlier this week that it was going to be hot. Not just 90s hot (which I am also not a fan of) but 100s hot. I immediately started to unravel. My husband said my freaking out was probably worse than what was actually going to happen. And, my brain just kind of flipped out. I went into fix it mode - how can I fix it and survive the weekend? ...

5/19/2021 - Big Magic by Liz Gilbert Do I have buried treasure within me? Sometimes I am sure that I do and other times I am not so sure. How to tap into it is always the question or how do I unearth it? I talked to my brother on the way home from the beach yesterday and he asked me how I thought about the things I write. I told him is the secret is that I don’t. When I am in the zone, I don’t think at all, I just write. It is when I think, bringing my mind into the equation, that I stumble - I freeze - I cannot seem to let the pen flow, or in typing, it is the curse of the cursor just blinking at me. It reminds me of the times in college when I would have an assignment due, people remarked on my procrastination and I’d say I’m thinking about it and when I quit thinking, that is when I will write. When it would come, that place of peace, I could be up for hours putting pen to paper or my hands typing on the keyboard. Ideas flowing freely. I would often try to create or stage that momen...

  I feel it...unraveling. You think you know who you are. You PRIDE yourself on who you think you are, and then, when all of the activity and flurry subsides, you find yourself unraveling. Who am I? What do I stand for? When I peel away the busy-ness, the to do lists, the work, how I show up for others, how much I think about others, projects, deadlines, activity, am I missing something? Who am I? I am sitting down I am slowing down I am uncomfortable I have said this so many times before. My idea of a living hell would be to be trapped with only my thoughts - no ways to escape. All of the ways I escape. Keep busy, help others, eat, drink, numb out using your thing of choice - wine, bread, to do lists, hiking, walking, movement, Cheetos, alcohol, fixing someone, fixing something, anything to ignore the biggest elephant in the room. ME! I am trying to be curious. I don't know myself. Just to write those words, I feel this deep pain in my gut, my eyes cloud with tears. I have spend m...

  When I let go... Can I really let go? I feel like a part of me is gripping so tightly. But why? What sort of attachment could I have? I think if I could really let go I would feel so free, free for new things to emerge New experiences New flavors New smells I'm tired of the old stories, they rattle around in my head bumping into new things, maybe taking up too much space. If I could let go I would feel spacious Am I afraid of that spaciousness? What could I do with nothing but empty space? How could I fill it? Would I fill it? Sometimes I wonder if I am afraid to release, let go Release control Surrender - If I could surrender all Makes me think of a hymn from my childhood I surrender all, I surrender all, all to Jesus I surrender, I surrender all... I'm not in a place where I am comfortable with Jesus - but what if I could What if I could let go of it all? Surrender makes me think of a very definite release One where you do not hold back, you do not hold on, no tension, no b...

  Around Memorial Day, I start to think about what I used to do on this weekend. I did it for quite a few weekends and now, they are treasured memories. In my 20s I had a rocky relationship with my parents, but I had a close relationship with my grandparents. They would help me fly out to visit over Memorial Day weekend. The weekend would unfold with them picking me up from the airport in Omaha. I have never seen two people so excited to see me. I am enfolded in their warm embrace and there is much chatter about the flight and if I am hungry. A quick stop in to the Garden Cafe, for a large delicious cinnamon roll (we probably ate other things but this is what I remember). Then we would drive back to Exira. On the way back, we would talk in the car about what I had been up to and what they had been up to. Once back to the farm, we would take a quick stroll around the farm, taking note of what flowers were blooming and which ones were not. That evening, a quick bite to eat and lots o...

  Moments of devotion, required discipline, required dedication, priest or priestess I'm attempting to reacquaint myself with discipline. Dedication. Because I believe the piece I was missing was devotion. And the word REQUIRED brings a shutter to my soul. I grew up in a very strict household, there were rules and boundaries and structure. Not a lot freedom to choose what you wanted to dedicate yourself to.  Fast forward to now, and I am so simultaneously attracted to and repulsed by structure. It feels so hard to create it. I seem to default to structure. I talked to someone just the other day about rules and structure. For everyone, it needs to be consistent and I said I could appreciate that but I could see the also and the and, and when I completed the conversation I fell like a light went on in my head. Me, the rules girl, the control freak, the type A, but also the rebel, the questioner, the critical mind that can see where a spot of light breaches a dark hole. Embrace t...

 The prompt was the group randomly picking pages from the dictionary and then our facilitator selected a word from each of the pages. Celsius, uncut, al dente, amaretto, tuft Use at least three - and try to use all of them. he stared at me with his piercing green eyes - his irises like slits, he rubbed his head on the table and splayed his legs out leaving tufts of fur on the table, his fur remained uncut, even though it is our custom to shave him on occasion. His wild outdoor side not welcoming the grooming. We shaved him one winter desperate for some control of his hair, his mane, dark black mixed with a smokey grey and deep rusty red - depending on the time of the year. He would patiently sit while the brush when through his fur but only about 3 or 4 times before he'd whirl around to bite or snap. From a small kitten, received from an abandoned house, left or all that survived, he came to us one November. Still with his baby blues, his fur a black amaretto but long, tufts of it ...

 First thing in the morning I flutter my eyes open - sometimes its the increase in car activity or the sounds of a robin singing the morning song. I wake wondering what time it is and do I have a few minutes to just lay there, listening to the sounds or do I need to kick it into high gear and get ready for the day. Depending on the day, I like to lay there and stare at the ceiling. Looking at whatever light is coming through the heavy curtains. If I can see daylight at all I know it is getting light and maybe I need to get going. My first thought usually is where is Tim? an indicator of time, if he is snoring gently next to me, I know it is probably still a little early. If his spot is empty, I know I need to consider getting up. There are those moments when I check and he has slept through his alarm so it is all hands on deck to get up and get moving. He prefers a silent ease into the day - he has a schedule from beginning to end. I'm usually consumed by the excitement of a new da...

In this moment I feel... In this moment I want... In this moment I feel relief - so much relief. I've made the decision to self demote at work. I feel this relief in all parts of my body. It's as if the tension I've felt over the last two years is melting away. I get to go back to doing what I truly love - Research. I get to go back to taking orders rather than giving them - which is also a relief. I get to work with the two most difficult people but as their co-worker I can tell them to FUCK OFF!! Which will be so nice. I'm on a timeline. First, a self demotion in June and then save some $$ for my car trip around the United States. I'm workin on my car, outfitting it so I can travel and sleep in it. I'm going to take it on a couple of maiden voyages to see what needs changed. The comfort and flexibility to do what is needed. It's weird but all of a sudden I also feel so calm. It feels strange to feel so settled and relaxed. Tension is leaving and I am feeli...

 I am a rock, sitting on the banks of the river. Wondering when I can jump in It is more likely that I will be dropped in or skipped in But I sit, nestled in the bits of green grass and brush The river is just below me One more hard rain and my perch could be washing into the rushing river The river flows by Sometimes it is fast and furious, dragging items along with it White caps and logs and debris Other times it is quite quiet, meandering along with no real purpose or direction Kept within its river banks But it hasn't taken me along yet I see the larger rocks The one the dipper uses to stand and dip his head and body into the cold clear water He shakes the river up and over only to have it drip off in beads and return to the river I'm often warmed by the sun on a sunny day Someone sat on me the other day And wrote a poem about the river They ate a sandwich and stared out into the river Almost longing to be in it as much as I Today I am grateful to be a godparent - my goddau...

  I decided to do something a little different this month and rather than write in my blog, I would post on Instagram and Facebook. I have mixed feelings about posting so publicly. Often I see my writing as a process, raw and unedited. Thankfully my sister gave me the shove I needed with the #12daysofshine and I decided to keep it going. I definitely want to return to the blog format. I waffle back and forth about how best to get myself writing and consistently as this is something I want to do.  Here is a collection from the first 7 days of my challenge in reverse order. I included my daily gratitude practice here as well. A reminder to remember the good. May 7 Lacey leaf left from fall Cradled in a cloud of green Gold trimmed beauty One last appearance As spring blooms around Gratitude Today I am grateful for coffee time with my husband this morning- staring out into our backyard gently starting our day. May 6 Painting in process - I came home last night and about cried beca...

Birds singing The scent of lilacs Warm chocolate chip cookies Green fuzzy moss Frogs peeping in the night My feet in the sand The sound of snow falling Light raindrops on a metal roof The purr of my cat Perdita My husband’s hand holding mine The ten things that bring me joy

  #houseiusedtolivein There was a turret With large glass windows Storm and screen inserts A large window In the center I could go out and Sit on the porch roof Bunk beds, Attic So stuffy in summer And freezing cold In winter Froze my glass bottle collection Filled with colored water Blues, reds, pinks From bottles dug From the cistern out back Large porch Perched on cinder block Columns Watching trick or treaters Pass by Wooden house Orange kitchen Fruit border above Pale wood cabinets Wooden mantels And fireplaces long forgotten Pocket doors hidden by paneling The cool room For music practice Refuge from summer heat Fans cool in summer And heater warms only Kitchen as skirt billows Around register Couch for stories at night And the low rumble of thunder Signals rain is near While the train’s sound Rocks the house to sleep

 Hi Everyone, I am 11 days into the National Poetry Month 30/30 Poetry Challenge. I always love the prompts and it does challenge my ability to come up with something. I sometimes try haiku but most of the time I am not using a particular type or style of poetry. This one was originally written in April of 2020 #nightvision I tiptoe through the dark house  in search of water And I spy With my eye Something small Run across my floor I blink What was that A shiver  Strolls up my spine And I dismiss As dark playing Tricks on me But as I Snuggle back into bed My last thought Before I slumber Is was that a  Mouse?

  April is National Poetry Month and for the past few years I participate in a poetry challenge online. It is one of the things I find redeemable about Facebook. I cannot lie, I do love reconnecting with people or catching a photo or two of what people I haven't see in years are doing, but mostly it seems to be advertisements and people being mean to each other in a way they would never do if the interaction was face to face. I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook. This is one of the things I love - the Groups. People who like to do the same things you are doing or they are working on the same things you are working on. Some Groups have some pretty strict rules...and that can be hard for people. I love the groups that enforce these rules. Once of the groups I am a part of is 30/30 Poetry Challenge. Most of the year, it is silent, then on April 1st, the group springs forth in poetry prompts and other people sharing their poetry for the whole month of April. Last year during t...

For as long as I can remember, I do not trust when I am in pain. From my earliest memory of falling and scraping my knees on the asphalt pavement to my recent fall in Hoh Rainforest, I do not trust when I feel pain. I am super curious about this - where did this come from? I remember being told you are okay after a fall - did I feel okay? Was that words of reassurance or did I take it to mean that though I feel pain, you're okay so quit crying and continue on. I have these moments I remember - like the one where I was crying while cutting wooden names on a scroll saw at Kings Island, my boss asking me what is wrong. I tell him my arm hurts and he takes one look and sends me to the ER. Someone at the ER tells me "It's just a kidney stone, nothing to worry about. It will hurt, that is normal." I took that to mean, why would you bother us with something so trivial. We learn that pain is an indicator of something - but we also hear no pain no gain when it comes to working...

#30/30April8 A good day My feet hit the wood floor Cool and dark Fuzzy robe on I Walk to the kitchen To start tea I stare out the kitchen window The darkness starts to Lift as pale grey and blue Lightens to white and yellow The birds begin their chorus Nesting my tea cup in hands I sit and stare out into The backyard as it awakes Wet pine branches sparkle As the morning sun hits What will I do today? Full of hope and possibilities  Whatever happens I am breathing and can see Today is a good day