NOTHING MUCH TO SAY

Oh, look!  She's back!  But does she have anything to say?

Whew...a bit of a creative dry spell in the blog'o sphere for me lately.  I was finally prompted by an out of town friend who thought she was missing my posts since Golf Porn.  Alas, there have been none.

Sometimes I am brimming with ideas that force themselves almost beyond my control to the page.  Other times, well, nothing seems worth writing about.  It makes me admire those who have to churn out opinion columns on a regular basis even when they don't have the "juice" to even have an opinion.  I guess that's why some columns are stellar and some just so-so.

Well, here are a few things that have caught my attention while I wasn't writing blog posts:

1. Interesting how commerce and art intersect and motivate.  I did prioritize my "paying gig"-- the Circling the Mat blog. http://circlingthemat.blogspot.com.  So money does matter -- as does the fact that a "boss" has an expectation of me to produce.  And I'm reminded that I have always been more externally than internally motivated.  I keep thinking that is no longer true, but I'm lying to myself when I say that.  Obviously.

2.  I did a public poetry reading with my poetry group last week.  We published a chapbook last year and were invited to be featured poets for February at a local cultural center.  There are six of us in the group (called The Five Women Poets -- because that was the original number and we just stick with it even when others come and go, increasing or decreasing our actual number).  We hadn't read publicly for several months.  It was fun.  We also sold a few books, so that's nice.  But I felt a bit like how Mick Jagger must feel when he has to sing "Satisfaction" one more time.  I'm pretty sick of my poems and realize that my essays for the blogs are in the driver's seat and my poetry has been sitting in the back, napping.  I'm taking a class on Billy Collins' poetry next month.  That should shake the poet in me awake.  He's my favorite.

3.  My local-est go-to Starbucks is closing.  Around here you can hardly go a couple of blocks without passing another one, but this one was most convenient for me and my route took me by it frequently.  Easy in and out, right in my shopping area, on the way home from Yoga (when my Outback, as if with a mind of its own, turns into the parking lot 9 times out of 10).  Other stores will do, but have their drawbacks -- lousy parking, crowded, long drive-thru lines.   It's unclear to me how they could determine there wasn't enough business at this one -- I had assumed my visits alone were keeping it in the black.  Alas, not.  (And don't tell me to use that espresso machine that sat on my countertop gathering dust for 5 years and now takes up space in the under-counter cabinet no one uses.  Just not the same.)

4.  And as if that news wasn't upsetting enough, later the same day I found out about the closure, the announcement came that Jon Stewart is leaving the Daily Show.  This news shook me to my pop-culture core.  I adore him.  Handsome, intelligent, articulate, incisive, ironic, goofy, smart, hilarious.  I counted on my nightly "date" with Jon Stewart to give me a lift from the doldrums of despair because if he could make fun of the absurdity of our current state of politics, media, and just general human craziness then all was not lost.  With Colbert gone already and Stewart on his way out, I feel lost and lonely, as if friends who remind me it's all going to be OK, if we can still laugh, have moved away.  I hope they'll stay in touch.

5.  I'm curious if my writer's block for the blog has to do with all the other, more technical, writing I'm doing lately.  Hub and I are on the Steering Committee for our church's annual Stewardship Drive.  In fact, he's the chairperson and with his organizational skill he is the man for the job if anyone is.  He's gathered a very creative and energetic group to assist him and it's a big, multi-part project.  I'm not only his "ghost writer" for most things he needs written, but with this project a friend and I are writing all the announcements for various publications, designing a mailer, an e-brochure, testimonials, and factual information hand-outs.   My head is sort of swimming with marketing strategies, details, facts, figures, and design elements.  It might be draining my creative energy for other things a bit.  But boy is it fun to work on a big project with bright, capable, and creative people and have it be time-senstive and time-limited.  My part will be over by mid-April....

6.  At which time I'll be deeply into and much distracted by getting to know our new granddaughter, who is due to make her appearance early in March -- 3 weeks until due date!  Woo-Hoo!

7.  Oh! NOW I think I feel a blog post bubbling up....I might have a thing or two to say about being a grandma.

At least, that's the view from here...©

ROCKIN' in my chair N' ROLLIN' my yarn ball

This is what it comes to, I guess.  I am 62.  Do the math.  I was in my 20's in the 70's -- the days of sex and drugs and rock n' roll.  I did some damage.  And OK, looking back, I could have been a wee bit more cautious.

In the intervening years, I did grow up, learned to be responsible and accountable, and loving of those other than myself.  I had a job, raised kids, took care of aging parents and nurtured a marriage.  Settled down, in other words.

Settled WAY down, as it turns out.

On Monday I decided to curtail the sweet tooth I'd indulged over the holidays and cut back on my mochas too.  I did great for 3 days.  But today I was out shopping mid-day for yarn to crochet a "throw" for an upcoming fundraiser at my church.    And I got hungry.  I should not leave the house on an empty stomach because I tend to get a little shaky when my blood sugar plummets.  So, what to do?

Well, you know what is on every corner, luring me like the Sirens in the Odyssey....that wily green-haired mermaid!  Walking through the door of Starbucks, my reusable cup in hand (save the earth!), I looked furtively about (as if anyone cared), feeling like I was walking into a crack house.  Ashamed.  Desperate.  Eager.

Here's what I ordered, my usual:  Tall, decaf, non-fat, no-whip, extra hot mocha.  Look at that!!!  There is absolutely nothing in that thing!  How could it be so wrong?!?  Right?  And I got the oatmeal cookie, because oatmeal is a health food.  So there!

But still, all the way out to the mall I felt guilty as I munched and sipped my indulgent lunch.  Oh, failure that I am!  Oh, weak-willed woman!

And as if that wasn't bad enough, I got to the check-out stand and discovered I'd forgotten my 1/2-off coupon!  Drats!!!  I actually thought of putting my yarn back, going home for the coupon and returning, which would have saved me a whopping $4.00!!!  (Um, about what I spent on the 'speed-free' coffee).  But I thought, no, it's OK.  The carbon footprint I would leave to make another trip probably is offset by the $4.00 overpayment....

Oh, it all gets so complicated!  Oh, for the carefree days of hip-hugger bellbottoms, the Doors, and a doobie!

And even more so when I re-read this post.  Let's find the key words of a changed woman:
"yarn", "crochet", "fundraiser", "church", "blood sugar", "decaf", "non-fat", "no whip", "oatmeal", "health food", "coupon", "Drats!" "carbon footprint".

I need a shot of tequila!                          

At least, that's the view from here....©

FROM TEA CAKES TO STARBUCKS

My maternal grandmother lived with us while I was growing up, having lost her husband to heart disease two years before I was born.  When I was a kid, I recall her sisters and often their daughters (my mom's aunts and cousins) occasionally coming for a weekday afternoon visit.  My maternal relatives all were of Norwegian descent and devoutly Lutheran.  So there was no foolishness, swearing, or outrageous behavior.  There was, however, genuine delight in being together, chatting about family and health and the fate of that summer's crops, this being rural northern Illinois and a family of current and former farm folk.  

Around 3:00 Mom would set out "lunch" which was really an afternoon snack, consisting of maybe little tuna sandwiches (no crust), a relish tray, crackers, cheese, and of course, a pot of coffee (Folger's or Maxwell House, brewed) to go with the tea cakes.  This was the best part of the visit from my perspective.  A tablecloth appeared, the good dishes were used, and a small vase of flowers or greens sat as a centerpiece.  Everyone was in jolly humor, joking and laughing about old times and people I didn't know and complimenting Mom on her "lunch".   It felt very feminine -- like a tea party.  It was a time out of time, a break from housework and routine -- a dress-up day for accepting visitors.  I haven't thought about that in years.

But today at Starbucks, it all came flooding back for some reason.  I think it had something to do with the Elder man in front of me in line.  He had the most engaging smile and intense curiosity about this place he found himself frequenting at 2:00 on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.  He had a million questions about the "menu" and some difficulty hearing the young woman who was working the espresso machine.  By the way, these "youngers" need to speak up!  The machine was noisy, the overhead Muzak was loud, other conversations were going on all around us....

Anyway, he ordered a mocha, but wasn't quite sure what he actually received once the drink was in his hand.  He asked what the difference was between an "Espresso Mocha" and "Frappacino Mocha" and did they have both chocolate and coffee in them and why did they come with whipped cream?  The barista was less patient with his questions than she was eager to find out if he also wanted a pastry or something from the cold case.

I guess that's when the vision of my mom's old percolator popped into my head.  I can just imagine Aunt Amy or Aunt Ellen standing at Starbucks in their sensible shoes and cotton print dresses, little straw and net hats perched on their blue/gray heads wondering what in the world had become of "lunch" time?

Now the afternoon respite is a quick meet-up with a friend at a chain store coffee shop, all basically with the same decor, the same menu, the same barista staff trained to ask the same questions, the same hubbub going on as some semblance of conversation takes place in fits and starts amid environmental distractions and cell phone interruptions.  It's what we call "normal"now -- even pleasant.

I don't really harken back to those summer afternoons at my mom's dining room table.  I love Starbucks, actually.  But I could understand the gentleman's confusion and could imagine myself in his shoes.  Actually this is exactly how I feel in the Apple computer store, shopping for the latest technology -- friendly, eager to learn, slightly confused, yet willing to give it a try, and having a hard time hearing and understanding as the young expert at the "Genius Bar" glosses over my questions with a burst of jargon that sometimes sounds like Swahili to my 60+ year-old ears.

So, seeing this fellow ready to leave without ever understanding the difference between a hot mocha and a mocha frap, I stepped forward to explain it to him.   He was most appreciative.  We both decided the occasional addition of "whip" is a good thing.

At least, that's the view from here....©