• I’ve been too busy to write, or even to read blogs.  My unread blogs are in the triple digits. I’m teaching 101 with a new text, which I didn’t finish reading over the break because I’d promised I’d read over a manuscript of poems for a friend before she submitted it to a local publishers, and that took up my spring break reading time. I know better than to try a new prep in a regular quarter. Why won’t I ever learn?
  • Someone stole the rainbow ribbon that said “support diversity” off the back of my car. When I bought it at the Vagina Monologues a few weeks ago, the pastor of the local Rainbow Cathedral said that it would probably be stolen. “I’m never able to keep one on my car for more than a few weeks,” she said. I’d had a pink “Breast cancer” ribbon, and a blue “Wage peace” ribbon on my car until both disintegrated in the rain and sun, so I had hopes my ribbon would stay where I put it. No such luck.
  • I’m finally back on track with visiting my dad, after months not getting across the pass. I’ve been to the beach to attend the Barber of Seville, then for Easter, then for Beethoven’s ninth on Saturday. He used to ask my sister to go, but she’s still breastfeeding, so now I’m his classical music concert and opera companion. Still, every time I’ve driven over the pass, I’ve missed being stopped for one reason or another. I can’t believe they’re still having to perform avalanche control this late in the season. When my daughter, her friend and I were on the way back yesterday, the westbound lanes were backed up miles because the traffic had been stopped. Luckily we were going east.
  • This weekend I finished cleaning out his planter boxes, and bought flowers, and filled the wooden containers up with splashes of color. I surreptitiously carried bags of garbage up the the dumpster at the top of the hill, too. Once I asked him if I brought an old pair of Birkenstocks over would he let me keep them in the porch so I wouldn’t have to put my hiking boots on and off every time I went in and out. “I never throw anything away,” he said. “If you put them in the porch, they’ll stay there forever.” Yep. A WWII child, he learned to conserve. “You’ll find a use for everything within seven years,” he always said. So his shop is so pilled up with bits and pieces of broken appliances, and wire, and string, and old newspapers and you name it that it’s hard to get into. And his house would be that way too, but I’m always quietly cleaning out the worst of the junk. If I told him I were taking it, he’d protest, and nobody would be able to get in the door.
  • All the trips up and down the hill I made have warped my calves into knots of stiffness. It horrified me how unfit I’ve become. I walk every day, but there are no hills to walk on around here. All the walking places are along level dirt lanes or narrow tracks between canyon walls. Sigh.

4 responses to “Snippets

  1. No pressure to write or read blogs. Once it becomes a duty it can easily stop being a joy.

    I thought I was fit until I did a wonderful 8 mile walk in the hills a few Saturdays ago. Sunday I couldn’t move – exhausted to the marrow. I’m doing another next Saturday …..

  2. You show such kindness to your father. And we all get behind in reading even our favorite blogs.

  3. mm: It sounds wonderful. I miss the Irish hills.

    Stella: Dad raised me, so it feels right to help him now. I enjoy it. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s