I’m rereading Margaret Atwood’s novel, The Handmaid’s Tale. This post-apocalyptic novel is absolutely chilling in light of all this abhorrent trump administration holds dear.
I swear the first time I read the book many years ago I didn’t get all the ramifications. Now, they’re hitting me right between the eyes. If you’ve never read it, I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Peace and vigilance, people.
In 1973 I was a sophomore at Floydada High School in Floydada, Texas. I know this because as I was cleaning out a closet today my yearbook from that year fell from one of the top shelves and landed on my big toe. I cursed. Loudly. Then of course I had to sit for awhile and thumb through this piece of vintage gold.
This is my class photo. I was a plain child and obviously something of a snob. Look at my disdainful expression:
I was also thin enough that if I turned sideways all that was visible was my nose. Man, I loved that belt:
Okay, I’m through resting my toe. Back to work.
Peace, people!
Give this man a cigar.
The lush coleus creates a lively pattern. Let’s call this one, “I’ll Take Five Yards of That Fabric.”
They burn, these harsh words,
Scalding souls and hearts and minds.
Cauterize the wounds!
Affection withheld,
Absence scalds the heart that’s left.
Denies gravity
Your scorched earth tactics
Only make hearts grow fonder
For an unscarred love.
Studly Doright took the day off work today so he could get in a practice round of golf before a big multi-club championship this weekend. I accompanied him around town this morning and learned something important. That’s why I call this one, “So That’s How He Shaves Strokes Off His Game!”
Mom weighed next to nothing as she lay dying; the hospital bed displaying the decreasing
Pounds like a stopwatch ticking off seconds. I couldn’t take my eyes off the digital
Readout, like maybe if I concentrated hard enough the numbers would reverse themselves.
One twenty seven would read one seventy two and the cancer cells would be rubbed out like
Misspelled words on a fourth grade composition. Little pink eraser dregs lingering,
To be brushed away by pudgy fingers. The marks still visible, but inconsequential. A week
After she died I dialed her number to relay a student’s amusing comment about
The complexity of simple machines, but realized after the third ring that I’d lost her forever.
I could not concentrate enough or erase fast enough to bring her back, to hear her voice.
I had a dream about this dog last night. Damned Ajax. Worth reblogging. Enjoy.
Studly once brought home a dog from work, having offered to care for it for a co-worker. You can imagine my, ahem, delight when this large, white, furry ball of frenetic energy entered our home for the first time, jumped on my lap and began slobbering on my face. He then bounced about our living room like a demon dog on steroids, snapping at invisible enemies and licking anything that moved.
His name was Ajax and he really was a beautiful dog. His coat was a glossy white and his eyes a vivid blue. We thought perhaps he might be part Husky. According to his owner he was really smart and knew multiple commands. In Spanish. The only words Studly and I knew in Spanish were of a base nature, and they certainly weren’t words one would use to control a dog. His ears did perk up to phrases such…
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Wish I lived near Arvada, CO! I’d love to visit this festival.
The armor of the samurai. Labor intensive, intricate, beautiful and full of meaning. Rows of leather and plates of metal woven together with silk cord to make formidable protection. Functional yet mesmerizing.
Dazzling helmets designed to strike apprehension into opponents upon recognition.
Join us this Saturday or Sunday, March 4th and 5th, at Simpson United Methodist Church, 6001 Wolff St. in Arvada, Colorado for the 49th Annual Hina Matsuri Festival. Hours are 11:30am to 4pm and this is a free event.
Enjoy the doll room, tea ceremony, bonsai displays, ikebana (flower arranging) display, nonstop entertainment including music and martial arts or have your name written in Japanese characters.
Here are a couple more displays you will be able to appreciate:
Huge blossoms usually get the spotlight, but today I wanted to give the little guy some attention. The clusters of yellow flowers on this Thryalis Glauca display the essence of the season to come.
I call this one, “Springish.”
Praying for Eyebrowz 