Like a glacial landslide
Inexorable, inevitable,
One mere inch at a time
The panic grows
Humanity waits alone
At the bottom of the hill,
Daring the drifts to stop
As progress slows.
The cries are anguished,
Circumstances advance
Like a cancer on the skin,
Yet everybody knows.
Keep the tides at bay
Hold the line, tote that bale
Slam shut the heavy doors
While despair feeds the crows.
Color Blind by Leslie Noyes
I once professed to color blindness, black, white, red, brown, all people looked the same, I claimed,
But the skin and its store of melanin or lack thereof does not a person make. No, color is bone deep,
Soul drenched, and we are different in beautifully messy ways. Better to be color aware than color
Blind. Better to celebrate the tints and tinges of pigments than to ignore our unique differences.
Peace, people.
My gardening skills are limited, at best, but on Saturday morning I attended a workshop at a local nursery and bought three plants that are supportive of monarch butterflies. Today, I planted them and since I cannot for the life of me remember what types of plants they are I call this one, “Larry, Moe, and Curly.”
Found today on Facebook. Appropriate.
I cannot imagine how difficult it must be, the work of being a cat. Between naps in the sun, one
Must stalk every individual dust mote that filters through a ray of light on its way from window to rug.
Then there’s the bathing of fur, pink tongue seeking out any hint of dirt or foreign substance with
A rough lick and a promise to bathe again should something upset the delicate balance between
Tidy and soiled, anxious and calm. Pleasured purring while kneading must be exhausting work
And is often closely followed by head butting and a thrice circled snuggle into mom’s cozy lap.
Scratching at posts, and pouncing on catnip-stuffed felt mice often induce wide yawns and paws
Covering eyes. A quick burst of energy when the word, treat, is uttered, even whispered, results in
A mad dash to the food bowl where petting is tolerated, but just barely. “Mom, petting just wears me out.”
Patches was jealous of Scout’s moment in the sun yesterday, so today she gets to be the star. I call this one, “Too Lazy for Words.”
In these times of drought
We celebrate rain’s promise;
Exult in renewal.
We worship rainfall,
Beg for its munificence,
Make wishes on clouds.
Earnest entreaties,
A worried mother’s prayers,
Please, don’t forsake us!
I took this one during a period of severe work avoidance mode. I call this photo of my kitty, Scout, “Daydreaming Cat.”
Our president plays fast and loose with the truth. It’s his calling card, and Americans have almost become accustomed to discounting the lies that spew from his ridiculously thin lips.
One of the most amusing (for we have to be amused lest we slit our throats) lies he’s told is that he coined the term “prime the pump,” to be used in an economics context, telling a journalist from The Economist that he came up with the phrase.
A quick google search of the term reveals that it’s been around at least since the early 1930’s, meaning one has to spend money to make money.
In the 30’s, government money was lent to banks and industry in hopes that it would spur growth, and yes, trickle down to the little people. Whether it works or not is a moot point. Trump didn’t coin the freaking term.
So, did he lie or is he, the president, that damned ignorant?
I’m thinking of coining a few phrases of my own. How’s this one: “holy crap we are being led by a freaking idiot!” I know, it’s a bit long and probably won’t catch on. But you never know.
Several years ago my daughter, Ashley, put together this collage of pictures of her and her brother, Jason, and presented it to me on Mother’s Day. It remains one of the best gifts I’ve ever received and makes me feel more than a little nostalgic for the days when they were little.
I’m so fortunate to be their mom, and they make me incredibly proud every day. I just hope I’m forgiven for sharing their bathtub photo!
Love you, my babies.
Praying for Eyebrowz 