Summer Sun

Hey, Jim Hill!  Thanks for hosting Poetry Friday today!

the summer
sun
was visiting
me
on a

winter day

in January

and I went

out to play

and skipped

in sand

and taunted

waves

and said 

good day

to gulls and

spray

before the

summer sun

returned

to gray

Gingerbread, Laundry and Hems, Oh, My...

What's left...

I CANNOT believe what I just did.  I had a post written about my lack of focus the past few weeks...okay month...and I just did something, and the whole thing deleted...speaking of dumb things I've done this month.  Maybe I should be writing this in Word or Pages and saving it.
Let's try again.
First I need to explain that I've been working on getting stabilized on some BP meds, and they have made me tired, nauseous, dizzy and unfocused.  And to top it all off, I was sick last week.  I'm just saying, I don't think this is the real me lately.
A few weeks ago I tried making gingerbread, and left out the baking soda, even after reading the recipe many times and getting all the ingredients out ahead of time.  I just put the baking soda back without using it.  The gingerbread came out of the pan in a nice flat, hard, uncuttable piece; a gingerbread cutting board of sorts.  We did not eat it.  I broke it up so it would fit in the trash better.
I tried baking something else and made a major error, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was now.  Sigh.  I guess I'm not all the way better yet.
The most recent thing that I did was to change the bedding last week after being sick with stomach flu.  My husband was out of town, so when he returned I wanted to make sure that he would not get sick, and he'd have a fresh, non-germy bed to sleep in.  So I stripped the bed, scooped up the sheets and tossed them into the washer.
At the end of the cycle, I started to throw them into the dryer.  As I did, I noticed that one of the hand towels that I washed with the sheets seemed to have tissue on it.  Great.  I'd washed some tissues that must have been in bed with me.  I hate washing a tissue.  White pieces of paper all over everything!  I looked more closely at the light sheets and noticed that they had the tissue on them also.  I looked in the washer to see if there was tissue on the walls of the washer.  Yup.
But what was that in the bottom of the tub?  A spring?  I panicked.  It was about a foot long and an inch in diameter...a very big spring.   I'd broken the washer!  How could my washer have thrown a spring?
As I looked at it, it looked vaguely familiar.  I'd seen it before.  And then I realized what it was.  It was the ring binder of a book I'd read in bed.  232 pages: 116 sheets plus front and back cover.  118 pieces of paper.  Washed with my good sheets.  The Egyptian cotton 500 count sheets.  My splurge set.
I set the load out on the floor and unenthusiastically vacuumed the inside of my washing machine.  Then I put it through its 3 hour clean cycle.  No more washes tonight.
I picked up the hand towel again to see what could be done.  I took it outside and began to shake it energetically, sending white paper snowflakes into the air, and all over my dark shirt.  When I was out of breath I stopped and examined it again.  The paper fibers were still in the towel fibers, permanently embedded.  Discouraged, I left the mountain of wet laundry on the floor hoping my feeble brain would come up with an answer to the problem.
I remade the bed with my not favorite bedding.
The next day, resigned to the fact that they were going to be way too much trouble to try to de-paper, I picked up the mountain to stuff it into a trash bag.  It was now dried into a nice paper-mache sculpture.   I was pretty sure my decision to discard the evidence was the right one.
Is it any wonder that it took me 3 hours last Friday to work up the courage to hem my husband's two new pairs of pants?  Four legs.  The opportunities were limitless.

Summer in January

It was a great day for the beach yesterday at 51 degrees, and even today at 41 degrees.  The sun was out.  A few people were walking their dogs on the beach, and others were, like me, just meandering around.  But for the most part each of us had our own piece of the ocean to ourselves.  It was a glorious day.

A quiet place to sit

My treasures

I love, love, love the ocean.  It was tough the first few years we lived in Minnesota.  I learned to love it out there too, but it wasn't the same as being near the sea.  I need it.

Soup in the Pot

Kid's View...or mine after passing out on the floor while I was sick.

Oh, my.  I have been so sick this week.  Stomach stuff.  Dizzy.  I still am retaining some of the dizzy and tired.  It seems so long since I've felt well.  I'm afraid I will be quite giddy when I finally feel like myself again.  Anyway,  I started this poem over a week ago while I was feeling good and thought I'd have plenty of time to finish it.  I was thinking about when I was a little kid, and remembering when Mom was cooking on the stovetop (maybe it's all the soup I've had lately), and I had to ask her what she was making because I couldn't see into the pan.  I couldn't even see the stovetop.  Funny that I remember that moment.  I wonder sometimes what makes a moment stick, and so many others get lost in a tangle of dendrites and bits of dandruff.
My goal for February is a poem a day, like I did in April.  Only this time it is going to be only poems that are kid oriented.  Robert Louis Stevensonish or Aileen Fisherish, maybe?... I like them both.

There's something in the cupboard,
There's something on the shelf,
There's something cooking on the stove,
Can't see it by myself.

I cannot reach the glasses,
Nor cookies way up high,
I cannot see what's cooking,
No matter how I try.

Someday it will be different,
I'll see soup in the pot,
I'll easily get my cup out,
For short, I will be not.

I'll be the one to get things
And into cupboards look,
I'll reach into the cookie jar,
And even help Mom cook!

Goldie Locks and the Cat Hairs

Our dog is a Golden Retriever.  So that probably explains everything to anyone who has ever had interactions with such a breed.  Pippi loves people.  She loves cats, in spite of the fact that our cat sees her as a toy.  Hmm.  I'll have to include a picture of Purrsee "loving" our dog. 
Purrsee is a Maine Coon Cat.  If you have a cat with an attitude, you will understand our household dynamics better also.

Purrsee hugging Pippi.

When we leave the house, we put Pippi in charge, but remind her not to tell Purrsee.  We all know who's really in charge, but Pippi likes to think she has some say in what will go on while we are gone.  Twice now we've found Pippi without a tail wag.  We took her to the vet the first time it happened.  He said she had a slight swelling on her tail and to wait a couple of days and see what would become of it.  $175, please.
The tail wag came back in a couple of days.
So this time when it happened, we ignored it totally.  Most of her tail wag has come back.  She kind of twirls her tail in a circle now though instead of back and forth.
When she loses her wag, she looks so depressed.  Her tail hangs, her head hangs.  She eats and otherwise appears normal.  But she definitely needs her tail to wag to be her cheerful self.
Both times this has happened it has been a sudden thing.  One day she's waggy, the next day droopy.  And I'm wondering, as I did the first time, if the cat has anything to do with it.
You see, the cat is large and in charge.  Sometimes the cat will hide around a corner and pop out at the dog.  The dog will go skittering away, feet splaying, and sometimes she falls as she tries to maneuver a corner to get out of the way of the cat.
Sometimes the cat grabs the dog around the neck and bites an ear, or licks an ear (we never know what mood he's in when he starts the game), then runs off.  Purrsee usually only chases her a few feet and then turns around to walk away with an air of superiority about him.  The dog goes to her bed to play with a stuffed toy, like nothing ever happened, a cheerful "I wanted to be over here anyway" look on her grinny face, contented that the cat's attention has wandered to something else.
When we leave the house, I see their two faces looking out the window at us.  The cat's face usually is the first to disappear, leaving the dog to stare wistfully.

Pippi with Puppy

Pippi is such a gentle dog.  She loves stuffed toys, preferably ones that don't squeak.  If they squeak she gets concerned about their health and well-being.  When we come home she brings us one of her toys and will let us take it in our hands (like we really enjoy holding a wet stuffed animal) for a few seconds.  Then she gets nervous about never seeing it again and will request that you hand it back to her by opening her mouth and prancing around you.  She takes it carefully by the ear or leg, walks off a safe distance, sets it gently on the floor, and repositions it in her mouth for better carrying.
Pippi is so careful with her "babies", she would have every toy she ever owned if we didn't periodically get rid of some.  She currently has a Winnie the Pooh, a green swan, an elephant, a lion, a green monster and her Christmas puppy - a golden retriever from Cabela's .  As my husband and I manuever around these toys, it becomes apparent that we will have to cut down on her litter some.  It gets dangerous to walk around the house, and I'm getting so that I don't think I want to break a hip, or anything else for that matter.
The cat has one toy excluding the dog.  He is partial to a ring with a ball in it to bat in circles, with a center pad for clawing.  The entire house is his toy though.  We have open stairs and railings that he can crawl through and around and sit atop for surveying.  He has his jester dog.  He has his maid and butler who keep his bowls full and his litter box clean.  There really isn't anything else a king needs, unless you count that mouse he wanted to keep for a pet.  We drew the line there.  I don't mind playing a maid, but I'm not taking care of his pets.
Mouse is gone.

Okay, so are cats related to owls?

My Dreams

Sliding

Floating

Waiting patiently

Careful movements

Quietly entering

This world.

I dreamt

He

Would be

A son.

First born,

A gentle soul;

Fearfully and

Wonderfully made.

I loved him

Deeply

Before

He knew what

Love was.

Kicking

Somersaulting

Arms akimbo

Feet askipping.

Tumbling into

This world.

Before she had

A name

She was a dream

And I named

That dream

So that when

She came to be

She would have

Always had

A name.

True to

Her name,

God has

Graced her

With a son.

Savviniatory Blatherings

I made a book for our grandson's great-grandparents for Christmas.  I ordered late, so they just arrived.  I am really liking them.  It is basically a photo book of lots of the baby pictures taken in the first 4 months of his life.  I had them printed in 8 1/2 by 11 size in hardcover so they are easy to see and handle.  Now when Great Grammie wants to show off her very great grandson, she can easily point to the "coffee table" book instead of trying to bring up the photos on her computer or iPad.
I am readying to compile the next few months of life, and have begun putting in poems and stories for and about him.  I am so excited.  Don't read this, daughter of mine; maybe it will be a surprise gift for his first birthday.
I also burned a DVD of the book as a slideshow set to music as a gift for parents and the other set of grandparents.  They are more computer savvy, so the book isn't as necessary for showing baby pictures.
Isn't savvy a good word.  Where did it come from?  It sounds like a shortened version of some other word...like savvination, savviniatory...something like that, but it was too long and hard on the tongue, so they shortened it to savvy.
They are more computer savviniatory... He has street savvination...
Yeah, you would have to change that to savvy.
No, really, where is that from?
Okay. Nevermind. It makes sense.  I should have known:
Per the online dictionary:

W. Indies pidgin borrowing of Fr. savez (-vous)? "do you know?" or Sp. sabe (usted)"you know," both from V.L. *sapere, from L. sapere "be wise, be knowing".
There.  I've learned another new thing, sabe?
Wouldn't that make a nice word for Grandfather?  Sapere.  I'll have to tell my husband.  Maybe he'll want to be Sapere.  He's already savvy.