On day 5 of March, I turned to the recycle/reuse cabinet of my kitchen. And what did I find there? Plastics. Plenty of plain, plastic repositories for putting away paltry paraphernalia. Plastics.
Side note, the tall container was the jug I mixed the nasty liquid laxative in preparation for a colonoscopy I had several years ago. What kind of person saves her colonoscopy prep bottle? Don’t answer that.
https://media2.giphy.com/media/l41Yzjtm0YbybMLHG/giphy.gif
Peace, people.
On Sunday I met up with members of the Tallahassee Women’s Meetup group for a visit to Birdsong Nature Center outside of Thomasville, Georgia. This was my second visit to Birdsong, and I had eagerly anticipated the trip.
http://www.birdsongnaturecenter.org
Anticipation can sometimes be the enemy, and leave one feeling disappointed by reality, but Birdsong delivered the magic once again.
Here are just a few of my extremely amateurish photos.
Dogwood in bloom:
A titmouse at the window:
A bright red cardinal:
Wild azaleas:
A nice fat woodpecker:
An even fatter squirrel:
The Listening Place:
And one more cardinal:
What a glorious day!
Peace, people.
On the fourth day of March I elected to purge the gossipy, publicity periodical, People. Please, no applause.
Occasionally I write poetry, and when the spirit moves me these poems deal with the horrors of gun violence. When I came across a piece on Facebook about a series of poetry reading events across Florida to keep the conversation surrounding gun deaths front and center, I thought to myself, “Oh, I’d do this if an event was scheduled for Tallahassee.”
Scrolling down the list I read:
Oh. I see there is one here. Deep breath. Myself isn’t feeling all that cocky right now.
The thing is, I don’t know if any of my pieces are good enough to present. I’ve only ever read my own works in front of an audience once or twice, and then I shook so hard my teeth rattled.
What say you, friends? Is this one of those things I should allow to fall by the wayside, or should I jump in with both feet? Awaiting the wisdoms of my readers, especially the poets among you. Please be honest. I’d rather not make a fool of myself at this event.
Here’s one for your consideration:
Guns in Church
Will we take our guns to church now?
Jesus take the wheel, but leave me my pistol
Dylan Roof opened fire in a South Carolina prayer meeting
Now more dead occupy the pews in Texas
Just wondering which firearm goes best with Psalms.
Yea, tho I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil,
For I am armed with an automatic weapon.
No doubt lawmakers will offer meaningless thoughts and prayers
Their mantra sounding weaker by the hour
Who will answer for these deaths?
And here is another:
Guns and Thorns
the fetishists have cried,
“leave our guns alone!”
when no one has called
for their removal.
paranoid fools who fail
to see or care, cry time
and time again that any
move breeds futility
while still more innocents
die and we offer up only
thoughts and prayers.
Peace, people.
March 3: A trio of tired tops; two are too tight:
For several months now I’ve been attending MeetUp functions with women in my area. Various members of the group get together for wine or lunch. Sometimes we go for leisurely walks and visit historic landmarks. I always enjoy myself.
I’m beginning to get to know some of the women who attend, and find some of us have a great deal in common. On the whole, we tend to be a fairly progressive group. Even those that tend to be more conservative politically are appalled by the antics of our current potus.
One evening last week seven of us met for wine and dinner at a local restaurant. I knew three of the women in attendance, but three were new to MeetUp.
One of the first timers bristled a bit when the talk turned to the need for action on gun control. The shootings in Parkland, Florida, on Valentine’s Day are still very much on our minds.
“Well!” she huffed. “I’m a member of the NRA, and we can’t ban assault rifles.”
I restrained myself–you all would’ve been proud of me, but she also announced that she was carrying (a gun, I suppose, but might’ve been drugs, the terminology is similar), so maybe it was fear and not restraint that kept me silent.
We turned the talk away from guns, and someone else mentioned the Me Too movement. Again this woman spoke up, “Just ridiculous. These women parading around with hats shaped like vaginas…”
“I have one of those. I wear it proudly,” I said.
“Well, it’s so vulgar and extreme,” she countered.
“Sometimes, we have to be extreme to make a point,” someone else added.
The conversation was steered away again, and we continued to drink our wine and snack on appetizers. We even found things we had in common with Ms. NRA. I don’t want to know if she voted for trump. I don’t want to discuss women’s issues with her. I definitely don’t want to take up gun control when she’s in the room. But, if she’s at any future MeetUps I’ll strike up a conversation with her. Maybe I’ll wear my pussy hat.
Peace, people.
March 2nd, on which I quickly had to find two things to purge in an alliterative manner:
A pair of pink plastic pretties, purchased, not purloined. Peace, people.
I’m so sorry, but there were requests for me to continue this. I’ll keep them brief and alliterative when at all possible.
Day one: A broken, bejeweled backscratcher:
Peace, people.
Last year I posted snapshots and tried to number them reliably, but I’m rather a disorganized soul, and soon jumbled up the count. I’ve never let disorganization stop me in the past, though, so I’m just going to number these things according to an ever changing set of rules.
I snapped this photo yesterday in the garden area of my dentist’s office in Tallahassee. Then I proceeded to ask everyone what it was. No one in the office had a clue. I guess that’s why they went into dentistry and not botany.
Anyway, perhaps a reader with some gardening knowledge can help me out:
The blossoms aren’t on the plant itself, so kindly ignore them. Do note the purplish serrated looking leaves, and the oddly bare trunk-like stem. The plant is striking in its almost alien demeanor. I imagine if plants grew on Venus, this is what they’d look like.
Thanks in advance for any assistance.
Peace, people.
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November,
All the rest have thirty-one.
February has twenty-eight,
But leap year coming one in four
February then has one day more.
2018 is not a leap year, thus today, February 28, is the last day of the February minimalist challenge. It has been a good month to get rid of stuff, beginning on day one with this green bath rug, which developed its own story https://nananoyz5forme.com/2018/02/08/be-careful-what-you-ask-for/.
Along the way I’ve surrendered books,
And old makeup containers.
I’ve also bid adieu to spices, shoes, sample products, and a boatload of other stuff that I won’t bore you with.
Don’t worry, the cat didn’t get tossed.
On this 28th day of February there was only one object I deemed perfect to celebrate the finale. Wine corks. Twenty-eight wine corks.
My cropping is lousy, but trust me, there is one cork for every day of a non-leap year February. I worked hard for those corks.
Thanks to everyone who followed my progress this month. Blogging about the challenge made it fun and gave me something to look forward to every day. I’ll continue in March, sparing you all the details, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that I have junk to spare.
Now, I think I’ll pop the cork on a new bottle of wine and celebrate the end of February properly.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
