Bookend (s)

My forward thinking mind is clouded with Christmas afterthoughts.

YES! We just survived one bookend (Christmas) - standing straight, upright, at full attention. A bookend, holding its own weight and supposed to hold that weight of complimentary items as well. We leapt over the hurdle; blew around the mast, plowed through the defensive end, (as if Adrian Peterson).

Beyond this festive bookend with initial rush and exhausted awe are days that extend out again as a continuous streaming pattern. The manmade 24 hour cycle churns relentlessly, day in and day out, filled with patchwork and pattern of everyday people breathing, moving, dreaming of tomorrow and a "new year." But, what's it come back to? (or go out towards?)

Children who initially dreamt of sugar plums - dream no more - through sheer exhaustion as sandman gives rest to the weary. And, soon enough, thoughts will progress and move beyond this short time of extreme merriment, towards daily invocations of playful engagement, studious learning and passionate survival.

I think to myself, "we must live beyond the holidays and plan for oncoming traffic". Eyes open, head down, offensively moving forward, but defensively aware of other offensive players.

Image courtesy via CC

Do bookends work better when there are two? Two bookends secure and hold tight, that in between: two hands with that cup of hot chocolate; two slices of bread for the PBJ; two arms for a giant bear hug.

If Christmas (this holiday season) is one bookend, where is the other? Does it matter? To me, (as a Christian), it can't be Easter... that comes too soon. And if not Easter then certainly not New Years, as that is only a week after Christmas. (bookends within bookends?)

Truly it is the content between bookends that is so important. Perhaps offering history, enlightenment, engineering. Capable of protracting advanced thinking (if not nourishment) beyond the ordinary day. Expansion packs of add-on information, meant for download, fulfilled with mindful, physical and the spiritual elements of life and meaning.

If we approach, enact and surpass one bookend (Christmas) - where is the other? Should it be there? If it was evident, would we be thoughtless drones without imagination and wonder? Knowing everything there was to know about the who, what, when, where, and why regarding - the end, the finale, the finish line. What if Christmas came at 9:13pm rather than 12 midnight? Is the streaming pattern capable of being a cyclical pattern - as if old growth wood, soaked, bent and shaped into a curving lathe of strength and durability?

At least we have this hope - for many in the deepest darkness (but not all), and through this cyclical frame we advance with solar guidance carrying the hope as a torch, out - after Christmas into the new year, through the common and obedient to beyond the fringe, where the "wild things" are. And one bookend works well, provided the weight it carries is manageable. Two bookends may be ideal, to assist in form with regularity, but how can all things be ideal? Poking through the Bible, it seems obvious that we weren't meant to be perfect, were we? (are we? will we be?)

I found this quote, when I found that bookend:

“Faith... is the art of holding on to things your reason once accepted, despite your changing moods.”

-C.S. Lewis

Lets (lettuce) grind some meat.

"Got Rolls and Pie"

“Got rolls and pie”, she text with fixed pleasure

Didn’t take seconds for his variable mind to wander

She thought of such sweetness, known prior from such forth-comings

Reflection from times past engaging and engorging on the satisfying warmth

His mind also set on sweet, from earlier encounters of engaging engorging

From past to present to future he enjoyed warmth also when offered so plain

She thought ahead to how each would be set, perhaps with accompaniment

Accompaniment was his aim, wreaked forth from such words as rolls and pie

The holiday was near, she knew they would be prepared in advance of the site

He thought of the site and was expectorant of enjoyment from holiday as well

Merriment meant modest gains from simple gifts as she enacted

Gained rolls and pie allowed merriment from gifts made simple beyond his modest memory

Two minds wandering and planning for festivity…

One earnest and thinking straight ahead, the other taking the devious roundabout... ablush.

Cleanup Lament

The spring has sprung
The jets have flown 
                -up over yonder towards the great unknown

An idea’s been cast
The play has begun 
                -three voyageur visionaries: run! (boundless) run!

Each on the road
Together they bask 
                -separately each head seeks goal of the task

One clairvoyant
One straight ahead 
                -one must make whole or eruption will spread

Feeling in or out of shell
Heroic but cautious 
                -avoiding all texture to prevent becoming nauseous

Engaging and forward
Touch that of champion 
                -beware if irrational strikes this companion

Loud as a siren
Preference for rail 
                -to bring all together as one and prevail!

The trap has been set
Think as one beyond snare 
                -gotta get along, work together, compromise, (maybe even share)

Boys will be boys
To make mess then exhaust 
                -(the parents of said boys stand shell shocked and at loss)

At end of the day
Though triumphant and exuberant
                -in such said words express this cleanup lament.

Potatoe Desert

What would a potatoe desert be like?

What resemblance would it take on?

Maybe like lefse - stark, flat and seemingly calling for additions like butter and jelly or cinnamon and sugar to bring on a better semblance of something sweat?

Or maybe mashed upon a desert pizza - landscaped with doe on the bottom, than a lair of finely mashed potatoes and something else like apricot spred to top it of and make it a certified desert.

Of course their is always sweat potatoe pye - richly created with a delectable gram cracker krust, then filled with sweat potatoe complete with hints of spys and cream on top thrown in for good measure.

Mmm Mmm, cold whether always brings on that feeling for home cookin’.

Do potatoes grow in the desert – spread amongst the grams of sand, which have fused together with top crust due to the lack of sweet sweet rain from dry weather (like how my yard is starting to seem)?

And, I want to thank Dan Quayle for causing me to think about spelling potato incorrectly every time the word pops in my head.

Hit me.

Coming Out of the Proverbial Shell/It Ain't Easy (On Your Own)

A shell is a great home. A comforting place to be. Where one can run around in their tighty whities free from the outside rantings and ravings and paparazzi. But, sometimes it can be a little too comfy – and we need to break out, or be forced out (preferably with clothes on).

Our oldest child knows what he likes – and he likes his shell. His insulated world with day to day sameness and configuration and common routine. Initially, he doesn’t like to come out of that shell, to step from familiar to unfamiliar (what is the root of familiar, family? household? something like that).

BUT, when he does come out and tries something new, it is amazing at how much he likes it and seems freed from the chains that bind. His horizon opens up, he makes new friends, advances two steps and then… perhaps hits a small snag and back in his cave he goes, eating his cheese pizza.

Seems to me this is what causes him to learn in fits and starts. He picks something up and goes with it, but then when he gets stuck, he rams his head over and over against the wall, though barely making a dent or a scratch. Perhaps his pistonlike neurons are firing at different intervals than the average. But, he knows what he likes - and seems grounded in that knowledge, which his peers seem to respect.

The recent controversy regarding Princess Kate and her risqué photos comes to mind. Many celebrities say that when you are a celebrity – to whatever extent, you need to mind every step and every move. Perhaps in your own house or shell you can bare all, but be mindful of who is looking at any point outside those walls, beyond the shell, with their greedy long range zooms.

Crabs, snails and turtles carry their shells around with them – and they have lasted millions of years. The mobile shells, though perhaps a hindrance to some extent, (say 15% of the time), seem to work for them overall (the tortoise did beat the hare).

Sometimes we have to dare. We have to step into the dark, leaving the comforts of home, leaving the comforts of government, leaving the familiar - maybe taking that last breath and passing into peace.

Coming out of that shell and making the most of what comes our way.

And it ain’t easy, on your own.

Sometimes you win sometimes you lose.

But that’s what puts hair on your chest.

And experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want.

(and tonight, the rest of us in this familia, want more than just cheese pizza)

PS.
I like turtles too.

We did "I do"... I done

Nine years since we said “I Do”, we did!

That’s quite awhile and it’s been quite a lot.

We have plenty to celebrate.

With this date, we can specifically celebrate that this marriage works.

Marriage is a wondrous thing and I hope all other humans, no matter which options they were created with, can marry who they love as well.

As well as you still love me, despite my hairy back (which wasn’t necessarily an option I would have chosen, if given that choice, maybe there is still a purpose for it… camouflage, warmth - or some unseen advantage to it... it certainly is unseen to me, since it's on my back, and I can't see it, follows me everywhere I go, feel like Wolverine).

I done.

(and I love you whatzhernutz)