Shame

I loved this sign last Friday.

There's also no shame in admitting that my body is not working correctly anymore. And so I go. I used to be afraid of this decision, to be honest. But I'm so tired, that I'm past the fear, and just ready to move on. I can't be in this much discomfort 75% of my life. I noticed the other day that I've gone back to squirreling feminine products everywhere. They are under the seat of the car, in the glove box of the van, multitudes in every bathroom, in my purse of course, and I know where all the clean gas stations are on every route I travel. This must stop. It feels like a disorder of the weird-trying to hide it from the world. I carry on, smile and don't bend wrong, excuse myself often, discreetly. Besides the physical tiredness of making that much waste, I'm exhausted from the carrying on as if I'm fine, really I am. I haven't been writing much, I have begun several posts, but they sound random, distant.

I'm waiting for a doctor appointment this week, in my mind, that will end the waiting. I'll share more after he and I meet, but I hate wait. I've been scattered in my thinking, doing a little of this, not really finishing any started project. I've started a few more, what am I thinking? I think it's like a menstrual fever of sorts; I can't imagine living the rest of a week, a month, gasp, forever, this way. I love to play piano, but I haven't. I want to finish my wooden blocks project, but I haven't. I planned to paint my office, but I haven't. I have piles everywhere of
filing, of good ideas, I wonder ifs.
I wonder if I'm alone in the wandering mind syndrome. Probably not, but I'm realizing there's no shame in this either. Freeing, really.

The 50th Success

We had such a lovely day on the 15th of May. It was the only nice Saturday of the month, (the Farmer's Almanac was right again.) Dad felt well, Mom looked lovely, and the people came en masse. From 1-4, the line was a block long or more to wish them well. We lost count when the 300 napkins ran out before the four o'clock bell rang. Here are some of my favorite pictures and answers to some silly trivia questions you may have!

What did you do about the powerpoint/pictures issue? Mom and Dad did not want a fuss, as you know. Mom brought a framed picture of both of their one room schoolhouse photos, black and white, and full of memories for the older crowd that had attended multi-grade classrooms. She also brought their wedding picture and the rest of the table had some balloons and a flower bouquet. We didn't have posters or a slideshow, and it didn't feel empty.

What was the best food? Hands down, the bacon wrapped teriyaki chestnuts won the day. The chef warned me that they were "putzy" and expensive, but we ate them by the plate full, and there were only 3 left. Between you and me, they were worth every extra penny. Mom and Dad have been part of a New Year's Eve group of neighbors that get together every year since 1961. (I know, right?) And the chestnuts were mainstays of the bounty of food that sustained them through nights of cards, 500 Rummy, and laughs. The neighbors have long moved from the original neighborhood, even to Arizona, but they still get together. Through marriages, children, long dresses, divorces, different political views and hangovers, they gathered, put their penny antes in the pot, and ate breakfast with bloody Mary and eventually decaf in hand.

My mom counts things - she got 421 cards and sent over 50 thank you notes, despite saying "no gifts, please". Dad was feeling well, and they are now both so glad for the day. Relatives I haven't seen in over 25 years are now Facebook friends, and I treasure learning about their lives. Here are a few pictures that say more than my words could ever convey. I'm so glad it all worked out for the best.

Lebanon Cemetery, Apple Valley, Minnesota

My blog friend Roy is faithful in his treks to the local cemetery. He has beautiful posts about family names, stories about the possible people buried there, and such artistic ivy. These pictures are for you, Roy, as I attempt to do one of our local cemeteries justice.

The Lebanon Cemetery is located at the corner of two now busy roads, but it was not always so. The original cemetery was 2 acres of wooded hill amid the farmer fields and established during the civil war. The earliest recorded burial was May 25, 1861, and the stones of these first burials stand at the northwest most corner of the lot.
In May of 1997, Apple Valley voters approved acquisition of the cemetery and a bond referendum to obtain an additional eight acres of land. Transfer of the original two acres of the cemetery was made to the City in December 1998, and the additional land was purchased, and in 1998 went through some extensive remodeling.
Apple Valley was not always the name of our fair city. We were a township called Lebanon first, but the mayor in 1970's decided he liked the fair city in California with the same name very much. Apple trees grew on the west side of town, and many street names then and now have apple references.

Almost unheard of, this cemetery is owned and maintained by the city. The memorial is a very new addition to our only non-church cemetery. It is a public place to be buried, no questions asked. I really like that idea, that we can all become one, across denominations or no affiliation.
The pictures began as I was trying to capture the beauty of the lilac bushes across the road, and stumbled across the firefighter. There are more by another photographer here

Pictures coming soon, but it's been raining for over one week. Because the ground is holy to me, I can not push myself to trod its mossy mounds in the wet.

A Gift

May felt juggled,
tested,
wrestled to the ground.
Enough, enough!
Ambition and striving,
Due due, do.

Now, quenching, hydrating,
the June days greet me,
beckon, wryly wink,
in the gingham of a picnic,
bubbles,
sidewalk chalk,
root beer floats.

Unassuming,
as a great plain before me.
Will I focus on her vastness? or
discover the smile
behind a tiny, fragrant wildflower,
blooming and happy for the sun! Look!
Bee! Bee! Be.

© 2010 Wolf Piano Studio