Pink Slime, etc.

In the morning there was a poem, Crows, which reminded me I heard them on my morning walk, so they’re back. They rule the tall hood trees in summertime.

There was a belated present, my ancient marble collection, put in a drawstring bag I gave a second-grade friend. Never thought I’d say, “Google ‘how to play marbles.'”

Then assisting my fancy friend, a girl in that class, as she wrote to a new penpal in Alaska, I found out I’d just missed her birthday.

“What would you like for a present?” I asked. She could have asked for anything.

She lit up. “Pink slime. One time I saw it and my mom said it cost too much…” I have no idea where one buys pink slime, but I’m on it.

Midday, there were readers, unpacking portfolios and talking about books. It amazes me how quickly they can say yes or no to a book. It is like food. You don’t have to hold cauliflower in front of me long before I say, “Yes, please.” And visa versa with dead cow.

More poems later afternoon. I read aloud from Jacqueline Woodson. The writing club reads some poems. Then they had a go at some free verse. Line breaks and writing for sound and rhythm is new to those trained in complete sentences and paragraphs.

“Well, if you downloaded the lyrics to your favorite song, what do you think it would look like?”

“Oh, I get it,” one smiled.

Over the phone I held my youngest who was in tearful exhaustion, still recovering from the flood. She recounted how her discarded trunk of journals had been returned causing her to have to look again at all her writing of 30+ years. Some pages completely tie-dye ink smears, some clear, perfect penmanship. She wept telling me an entry at 10 years old, sitting on a dock wanting to die. She loves her life! She wept explaining that she bagged them all up again – this time not in a trunk – in white garbage bags and let them go again. She wanted my love and I gave it with phone hugs and listening.

Late afternoon I walked the surprisingly hot neighborhood. Mom asked for “a stiff martini” [limit one] so I went to the basement for the hidden gin. Store bought, not bathtub.

My neighbor came over and agreed to the new fence between our properties. This one will face my yard: he hardly sees the fence with all the giant clay sculptures on his side.

My long-lost handyman showed up after dinner to go over plans and materials for the catio. Clever ways to install the cat tunnel. Fence posts in the morning. Yippee.

And the sky got dark so now I’m thinking my day was like a poem. It was poemish, at least. Topped off with frozen dark sweet cherries.

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