Mainely Write

The new year sneaks in  Past the old  And lays claim to  All that is  And is yet to be.

Sometimes when you are reading other people's material, and you make a connection . . . like, "yeah, that's totally happened to me", or  "hey, I'm with you on that one, dude". . . but you never wrote it down . . . Unwritten thoughts Spilled and are lost All for the want of my pen Gone to the wind Float to the sky Never my musing again Someday they will Drift back to earth Finding some other like soul With pen in hand They’ll scribe those thoughts Claiming a notion they stole Check out more poetry topics for Friday on Poetry Friday hosted by Julie at The Drift Record

Funniest thing - just before I this happened, I read Christy's posting about the train wiring directions! Goose bumps.  I just had to post! My husband and I went to RI for a couple of days last week on business.  As we were driving down, I received an email on my phone from my sister.  She had come across my grandmother's recipe for Carrot Pudding, hand written by our mom, on a little piece of paper tucked in an old cook book. Loving the sweetness of seeing it written in our mom's handwriting, she scanned it and shared. A couple of days before getting the recipe email, I had been thinking about making my grandmother's Carrot Pudding for Christmas, but didn't know where to find the recipe.  Then, here it shows up in my inbox in Mom's handwriting!  I hadn't even told my sister...  I asked my sister if she might also have the copy of the recipe for the White Sauce for the pudding, but all she'd found was the pudding recipe. On our return hom

I looked down.  And there it was.  Sad, lonely, waiting. The first lost glove of the season. It had followed its owner to Starbucks, riding quietly along in the car in the front seat.  Gloves had been very helpful in the chilly air as Mr. started up the car.  But it got warm in the car, so Mr. took off his gloves and laid them on his lap for the drive to Starbucks before doing a bit of Christmas shopping with Mrs.. Mr. and Mrs. had talked about what to get the kids.  New mittens, of course, would be on the list.  Having a basketful of mismatched mittens at home from prior seasons of cold, meant it was time to adopt a couple more pairs from LL Bean or Reny’s. When they reached Starbucks they pondered whether they should go in or just get a drive-thru coffee vente.  Mr. thought they had plenty of time, so they decided to go in and enjoy a few minutes of Starbucks magic. As Mr. got out of the car, the inevitable happened.  One glove fell to the floor of the car, while the othe

Mr. Claus? Mrs. Claus? 'Tis the season. Visions of sugar plums, hopes of glimpses of that jolly old elf...that's what's going on. Last year in December, someone mentioned in passing that my husband and I looked like Mr. and Mrs. Claus. And this year, this week, out of the blue, on Monday, we were at our local Starbucks, and the staff exclaimed, "Here come Mr. and Mrs. Claus!" as we entered the shop. I do not know these people. They are not welcome to sit on my lap, nor my husband's.  No one but me is going to sit on my husband's lap...although that hasn't happened since the time he said he couldn't feel his feet. This morning we got on an elevator heading for the rooftop....well, the top floor, anyway. A woman was already on the elevator as we got on. We rode in silence to the fifth floor where the elevator stopped for her to get out. "Have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Claus!" she called back as the door closed. Our bellies sh

Linked to Dori Reads blog, hosting Poetry Friday for December 23, 2011.  Go there to read more great poems posted by others! I am thinking about getting into the Christmas spirit.  This year Christmas comes on a Sunday.  I hope that doesn't interfere with celebrating Christmas... now what was it I was supposed to be remembering on Christmas? There's so much to do,  with fruit cakes to make,  Decorations to strew, and cookies to bake. There should be some stockings to hang with some care, And a tree to install or the house will look bare! The manger must grace the uppermost shelf Where it will be safe from Cat, Grandson and Elf. The turkey once bought will have to defrost, But first I'll buy presents no matter the cost. Lights will adorn the windows and more, And a wreath will encircle our humble front door. Put out the NOEL mat To scuff off all shoes. Get out the Santa mugs; there's no time to lose, For Christm

My 15 words for today... For my husband. Just when I think Our love Is fully grown - New shoots On old branches Appear. Note to self and others: I wrote 379 words to come up with these 15.  Sometimes you just have to write a lot to get a little.

  Quinzaine comes from the French word quinze , meaning fifteen.   A quinzaine is an unrhymed verse of fifteen syllables. There are seven syllables in the first line, five in the second line and three in the third line (7/5/3). The first line makes a statement, and the next two lines ask a question relating to that statement. I used the Quinzaine format, to make a longer poem of 8 stanzas. My husband killed a spider last night...and we all know what that means for the weather.  And of course the dog got alerted to something...probably the rain.  She usually does that when my husband isn't home. I love that.  Don't get me wrong; I'm happy that she lets me know about dangers and such, but she usually goes and hides, barking from a distance.  And then when all quiets down and you're all cozy and comfy, don't you just hate when you have to uncozify and uncomfyize to wake up and go to bed???     The dog growls low and then barks. Did she hear somethi

The eyes don’t have the depth of color But twinkle just as nice. The ears don’t hear the quieter sounds But listen for them twice. The legs don’t move as fast as once But make a comfy lap. The arms don’t hold the weight they did But hug you while you nap. The lips don’t always speak as quick But hum a happy song. The heart doesn’t seem to beat as loud But loves you just as strong. *I know some of these should have 'ly' at the end, but I don't care...poetic license, doncha no.

We may be older We may be slower But only because we have Lived long. We may be more sore We may be more stiff But only because we have Lived fully. We may be more deaf We may be more blind But only because we have Lived aware. We may be more reserved We may be more discerning But only because we have Lived watchfully. We may be more loving We may be more forgiving But only because we have Lived with faults. We may be wiser We may be happier But only because we have Loved truly.

A new child Untold tale Nothing’s been scribed Or erased Tabula rasa A blank slate Nothing’s been etched Or traced   Beginning now No regrets Nothing’s been tried Or tossed Newness of life Fresh new start Nothing’s been won Or lost Life beginning Script to come Everything’s planned And known Guided soul From the start Something once hidden Now shown

I was cleaning today and found this poem I'd written in 2008. I remember feeling this way as a kid.  I had a few "best friends", depending on the day and the situation - what I felt like playing that day, where I was in the neighborhood, who had come to my house... As a teacher, at recess duty, I always tried to imagine myself at play again with the imagination and enthusiasm of these charges that are "off duty" from the classroom.   I treasure the glimpses into their world. Swinging, sliding, Playing tag with a friend, Laughing and racing Every day without end. Best friends forever, I looks like we might Be best friends forever. Who cares if we fight? The next day we're back To share a new day Ride on our bikes and Run off to play. Best friends forever, It's our goal to be Best friends forever Just you, you and me! Oct. 21, 2008

Empty Bowl – Striding. Telling looks Harsh stares Thinking. Devising. Commanding. You must have what I want. You must know what I want. You must relinquish what I want. Yes. I have what you want. I know what you want. I am busy. Ignoring. Resisting. Aarrgh,  caving. Relinquishing. Telling looks Harsh stares Striding – Bowl Full. The writing process to this piece, from 1st at the end to 5th and final (above).  It just seemed an interesting process to me and I decided to keep my copies as I revised. 4. Food Gone, Striding to me. Telling looks – Harsh stares – He is thinking. Devising. Commanding. I must have what he wants. I must know what he wants. I must relinquish what he wants. Yes. I have what he wants. I know what he wants. I am busy. I am ignoring. Resisting. Aarrgh,  caving. Relinquishing. Telling looks – Harsh stares –

This evening, while I was sewing, and obviously not paying enough attention to Purrsee, our Maine Coon Cat, he got hungry and bored. He began sliding a spool of thread off the table, and I caught it about 4 times.  Then I started my camera. You can see at the end he has figured it out and is now teasing me!   This morning, he was hungry also, and when he's hungry he likes to get my attention by opening kitchen cabinets (there is no cat food in any of these cabinets and he knows it). In this clip, he has already opened two kitchen cabinets, that you will see him walk by on his way to see if his dish has food in it yet.  I got my camera again, a bit too slowly, but you can see him in action just as the clip starts. When he knows I'm filming, he gets camera shy...or obstinate, perhaps is a better word!

At a restaurant this morning We sat down to dine With mom, dad and baby... And baby was fine! Although we had worried And imagined distress His first public dining Was quite a success. It reminded me though, As I thought of our son, Of our first dining venture Where he came undone. I ate with one hand And soothed with the other. I stood up and rocked Like every good mother. I passed him to father, But that didn't last, Baby was cranky; His nap time had passed. Then strangers appeared And came to my seat, And those angels held him So new parents could eat. I like how having a grandchild brings back delicious and delightful memories, some of which weren't so delicious or delightful at the time! I wonder if those people at the restaurant still talk about the time they helped out some new parents at a restaurant one day 31 years ago.

Today I'm taking a back seat. For the next 8 hours I'm just sitting in the back seat listening to my two men - father and son - talking about cars, guns, work and other guy stuff. Deep voices back and forth. They don't get to talk like that much. I'm trying to sit quietly in the back seat and let them forget I am here. I don't want them to feel guilty that they aren't including me. I don't want them to include me. It's so comfortable to hear their voices. I feel safe and happy. In my back seat world I'm also texting my daughter about cooking her turkey on Thursday, and about making turkey pie with the leftovers. I'm sending her pictures to keep her updated on where we are in our Thanksgiving pilgrimage. She makes me smile when she says how excited my 3 month old grandson is to see me! We like our senses of humor in our family. It is a comfort to know you don't have to explain that you are joking or explain that what you said really means YOU

I don't know why I have to make such a big deal of sewing. I have had this material since my grandson was born.  That will be three months in two days.  And now I am, at last, bravely cutting the material and single-mindedly sewing. After a few little tweaks...like setting the material all folded up in little squares, then in strips, out on my bed, to see how it might go together; after looking at countless quilting patterns, after downloading quilting apps, after coloring paper strips and piecing them together, after taking everything out and putting it away again about 10 times; and after going to the store and buying ANOTHER larger cutting mat and new rotary cutter,  it just materialized, so to speak. Two days ago, I came to the realization that I didn't want to put so much work into the quilt that I wouldn't want a baby to use it, and the job became so much easier to start! I began cutting and sewing yesterday. I am looking at the floor that needs vacuuming, and

Okay.  So it's come to this.  I wanted some peanut butter.  It's natural and has an expiration date somewhere on it.  I finally located some writing on the edge of the lid.  I wore bifocals up until I stepped on them...well, no.  They were my new bifocals that I got to replace my "over the counter" reading glasses that cost $9.99.  I did not need to get bifocals.  I just thought it would be easier than continuing to use two different strengths of reading glasses, as my optometrist suggested I could do. Wearing them would save me about $300 but I would have to have two pair of different strength reading glasses with me at all times: one for distance and one for close up.  I decided to go with the bifocals.  However, I broke my expensive bifocals within the first 3 months of ownership, and while I waited to see if I would actually go in to get them fixed, I began wearing two pairs of glasses again.  My daughter loves when I go out with one pair on top of my head

Today I worked with a teen, teaching her to sew.  We sewed the first of many pillowcases to donate to the women in a residential addictions program.  I started to write about that, but when I started writing the word "pillow" it made me think of other words... I like the sound of pillows, billows and willows. I think there should more illow words - millows of them - ********************************************************** In the lillows of the valley, the fragrance is so sweet. In the frillows of the brook water splashed upon my feet. In the nillows of the night, fireflies glowed, and darkness lightened. In the villows of the tree many creatures lived unfrightened. In the sillows of a web, the dew drops sparkled with perfection. In the chillows of the winter, new snow shone the moon's reflection. In the gillows of the rocks little mice were nibbling corn. In the rillows of the mind is where mighty dreams are born. *****************

Roadblock? Take a detour? We were A little late; Now we're Lots late. On the island Detours Are little things That mean  A lot.

We had to run up to Gull Haven this afternoon because a snowstorm is headed this way. We had to drain the water tank just in case it froze tonight. There's no heat in the house, so just in case . . . The sky was already getting overcast by the time we got there. And now, on our way home, it is starting a slushy rain. We're supposed to get 6 inches of snow tonight. It was cold getting the house settled in for winter, so we stopped by Moody's Diner and had some good, hot and hearty beef barley soup with hot from the oven biscuits with real butter. Oh, yeah, and wonderful warm gingerbread topped with real whipped cream to go with that hot coffee! Now, I ask you, is there anything better than battening down the hatches?

Posted also on Poetry Friday RoundUp hosted by Random Noodling, and on Gull Haven , where I put updates on this house. The house with the wrinkled wall Stands firmly And squat By the sea The house with the wrinkled wall Waits quietly And longs For me The house with the wrinkled wall Wants warmth And life To tend The house with the wrinkled wall Sleeps still And gray Till then The house with the wrinkled wall Knows the time Is soon To come The house with the wrinkled wall Starts a low But joyful Hum

Today is my birthday! Yea! I will probably have to make myself a cake if I want one. My husband won't make one. My daughter doesn’t live here any more.  And my son, well, he is not a mom’s birthday cake maker kind of guy. He may remember that it’s my birthday though. Whenever I think of making a birthday cake, I remember the time I made Mom a surprise birthday cake. I must have been 12 or 13. It was summer, so I was babysitting my three youngersiblings.  Mom was working at the store with Dad as she usually did, so I had all day. I wanted to get it made and surprise her with a birthday cake when she got home. Well, I got out the red cookbook and then pulled out all the ingredients for a cake; there were no mixes back then. I mixed the ingredients by hand.  We did have a mixer, but I didn’t use her beautiful chrome Sunbeam mixer.  I loved that thing.   I knew just how to let the bowl spin and use a spoon to push the batter back down into the bowl without getting the spoon caught in t

Why I Write Writing is not a choice. Writing is a challenge put forth by my inner me. It’s the reason I write. It has always been there as far back as I can remember. Addiction and obsession are too negative sounding but could be factors. Liberation and communication…now those are the results of the addiction/obsession, but they sound much better! Let’s keep this positive! Writing is a sport: a game of putting the right words together at the right time in the right place.  A challenge put forth by my inner me. “I triple dog dare you,” says my brain.  And then, I have no choice, I have to write it down. It’s time to pick teams. Let the games begin. As the coach, I invite the words to come and try out.  I decide which words I want for the team, which words get to play and which ones don’t. Some words get sent back.  They just aren't playing nicely; they lack sportsmanship and cooperation. Some words just don't make the cut; they’re just not good enough

  For Poetry Friday linked at Jama's Alphabet Soup : Shush! The wind outside Is shushing Listen to the autumn Rolling in Skip to greet the Incoming waves Splash Ankle deep in Leaves Scoop and toss Giggle At leaf spray Sprinkling down On faces and necks Dive into The cool Tidal pool Of autumn.

Do you ever . . . have a question that you don't dare ask because it may sound stupid? wish that it were true that there are no stupid questions? wonder what your dog is thinking . . . and how he's thinking it without words? look up and imagine walking on the ceiling instead of the floor? try to imagine the sun is shining when it's raining? wonder what a butterfly thinks when he finds out he's not a caterpillar anymore? wonder if a butterfly and a caterpillar speak the same language? go the wrong way because it's the way you remember going . . . and it was wrong then, too? wonder what the ocean would look like without any water in it? feel like flying with wings and landing on a high tree branch? imagine how life would be if you were a seal? want to be a character in a book . . . or their best friend?  wonder what it would be like to live outside all the time, like a deer? imagine you can walk on clouds? want ice cream for breakfast? pictu

Little man, Just two months old, My prayer for you If truth be told: That you would come Into the fold, Receive the Love That's pure as gold; And then a wife  To have and hold, A love on earth That God would mold. He just turned two months old.  It is never too early to plan for the future of your grandchild!   This week his great grandmother is going to see him for the first time (not counting his FaceTime debut)!

We are looking for fixtures for the new house, and decided to go to Lowe's to see some in person.  It is nice ordering on the Internet and getting things shipped, but sometimes you need to touch things to get a good idea of size, quality, etc. We looked at lighting first, then went to the washers and dryers, then over to toilets and bathroom sinks.  After that it was on to faucets for both bathrooms and kitchen.  On the way there, we passed the displays of kitchen cabinets, set up with countertops, sinks, faucets, wallpaper and flooring.  A mom and her two sons were just leaving the area. The younger son, probably 5 or 6 years old (I didn't see his teeth, so I was not positive) pointed to a display and said, "That's a beautiful kitchen!  I didn't know they sold kitchens here.  How do they get them out?" I could see the mom smile slightly, trying not to laugh, as she very seriously told him, "I think they take them apart."  They passed by me not

Hello! Yes, you!  I do not appreciate being startled.  I was just leisurely crossing the road, and here you come barreling down the road in your growly, bug-eyed, little vroomything.  Have you ever thought that you could bump into me with that?  I didn't think so.  I had to hurry to the side of the hard-path.  This isn't the first time you've done this.  You should know by now how much I hate when you stare at me.  So just stop it!  I hate it!  I wasn't ready to go off into the woods yet.  I wanted to browse along the edge.  But no .  You had to creep up and stare.  So now I'm down here.  And... you are still staring at me!  What is with you guys?  Go away! Okay.  I'll go away.  Come on, Bambi.  I almost forgot you were here with me.  Did you know you blend in very well with these saplings and the dark shadows?  They didn't see you either...well, until now. They were actually watching me, but now that you've moved, they are watching you, to

Across the road A week ago we closed on our retirement cottage, but with the weather kind of yucky, and my husband working all week, Saturday was the first day we could go up there and really look at it now that it belonged to us.  The weather was absolutely gorgeously warmish and sunny! We went up today to meet the contractor and figure out the renovations we want to do.  When we were done, we just sat for a bit on the front steps and listened and watched.  People we've never met before drove by and waved to us.  We returned the gesture.  Two women walked by and called out "Did you buy this place?"  The SOLD sign was still up. We smiled and called back "Yes." "Oh, I'm so glad!  This is such a sweet place.  You have a great view!  Oh, I'm sorry!  We've interrupted your view time!" Nonsense, we will have more view times.  It was great to meet friendly people there: people who were glad we were in the neighborhood. There are lobste

Is there anything better for breakfast than oatmeal on a sunny, but cold, autumn morning?  Yes.  Oatmeal in my favorite bowl with my favorite mug filled with coffee.    Since I've retired, I've taken to making more foods from scratch.  This oatmeal is not your Quaker Quickies.  It is either Silver Palate, or my new favorite Bob's Red Mill Organic, Extra Thick, Whole Grain Rolled Oats.  Now that's a mouthful...literally!  Silver Palate takes 8 minutes to cook, and Bob's takes 12 whole minutes to make!  Now that's cooking!  Anything that takes longer to make than it does to eat is what I deem cooking.  If the clean up after the meal takes longer than it did to eat it, it's cooking, too. I sprinkle cinnamon on it, then raw sugar, almond slivers or slices, then some Maine wild blueberries (fresh raspberries or strawberries will also do fine), a drizzle of real maple syrup and last a little bit of milk.  Fill the mug with coffee, and voila!  Breakfast is s

I felt like I should write something, but I’m not sure of what, about Apple.  I worked for 2 years as a Specialist at an Apple store.  I was in the core training group before the first (and only) Apple store in Maine opened.  It opened with a bunch of enthusiastic, energetic, creative and intelligent people of all ages and all walks of life.  We went through a month long training together where we learned the Apple products and a lot about each other.  We were a close knit group by the month’s end. I never thought I'd enjoy retail sales, but this was a different brand of sales, a different level of retail.  There was a calm, unpressured sales attitude at Apple, an expectation that you would work with a customer until they got what they needed, even if it was only their questions all answered and no sale.  For me it involved hours after school to closing and all day Saturdays, leaving me little free time. People asked how I could do it, how I could keep up the pace of tea

I see trees and sky over there! Yesterday a bird hit one of our front windows.  He flew off landing in a low branch as I watched.  Many times they are not so lucky. This bird I believe hit it again later in the day and survived yet another time, flying to the porch roof for a breather this time.  I hope he's related to a cat... so he'll have seven to go. Last fall one hit our back sliding glass door and landed on the ground below it.  (We have a new house - only 12 years old - so the deck isn't on the back yet - hey, we have plenty of time to get that deck.)  He must have seen the windows in the front and thought he could fly through back to front.  He sat there for a couple of hours just looking around.  I called Chewonki, which is a place around here that does Nature Education classes and also takes in injured wild animals, to see what I should do.  They were closing for the night, so said to just watch him, maybe put him in a box lined with towels and put a cover

Up, down,  Mom grips,  Runs, Then lets go.  Up, down,  Weaving wheel  Snake prints  In gravel and grass.  Up, down,  Two pedals,  Little bike,  On the ground.  Up, down, Boy’s spirit,  Knee Scuffed.  Up, down,  Little bike  Put away  For another day.  Up, down,  “I will  do that  when  I know how.”  Up, down,  Door slams.  Up, down,  Mom sighs.  There’s no  Explaining That you  Need to Do it  To learn How. There’s no  Explaining  Down, up. That was a hard day.  How do you convince him that he can't just not do something until he knows how to do it?  Of course, now he's grown, having learned how to ride his bike shortly after that incident, and now rides a motorcycle!

This newsletter design generated with Smilebox Do you use SmileBox? Did you know it's free for teachers? Did you know you can make a slideshow, an invitation, a scrapbook, a calendar, newsletters, recipe books/cards, etc.? Did you know you can add music? Did you know you can post your creations online at Facebook, Blogger, Twitter, WordPress and TypePad; email them; print them or burn them to CD/DVD? Did you know it's a great way to post/publish student work? Did I mention it was free for teachers? Below, I've posted a sample newsletter design and a scrapbook design I made with student work last March. For St. Patrick's Day we drew and colored pictures using only crayons that had the word "green" on them somewhere. (It's not the one I originally published, as there are a couple of typos in it!) There are loads of options for backgrounds and embellishments. Enjoy playing! This is not an advertisement...really! I just enjoy this program and thou