Siren Sky to a Pulled Muscle

Sunday by Rieshy
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Blue air and clouds calling for,
swinging limbs,
rhythmic lungs; albeit noisy older ones.
Dripping sweat 
and a brain slowed to mere systems check.

Sports chew wrapped in wax paper 
assuming role of proverbial carrot.  
Must wait, must wait.
Just one more mile marker,
then dig it out of soggy sports bra pocket without looking weird,
hopefully.

Freedom, torture, joy, blessing.
Aloneness under Siren Sky.

Aloneness 
most gruelingly refreshing.
Skill not required, just endurance.
and
mothers are made of endurance;
But
by definition, not aloneness.

Except,
 the penalty box of injury, 
 turns each blue clear day into a siren wail of enticement,
singing low and sweet, "Lost miles, come and play, 
you were only 22 on that facebook real-age survey anyway." 

Mock my infirmity, oh Siren Sky. 
Promise the world, promise toughness and oxygen, promise sharpness,
 but in reality you offer only


further boots of ortho-shame.






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A Jaunty Monday

Monday by Rieshy
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My garlic tips its cap to you.



Horton will be by shortly


to listen for Whoses.





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Double Checking

by Rieshy
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Early-thirty one morning I was answering an email from the director of my senior daughter's high school tutorial. They needed to finish a powerpoint presentation that was to run on a large screen during the reception after graduation exercises.  Two of the questions were:

1.Scripture you pray for your student
2. Words for the future


 Our daughter is taking a gap year (a year in which one recovers from burn-out, makes some money, and assesses the color of one's parachute) and is trying to figure out what direction her life will take, so the verse and blessing that came immediately to mind was from Proverbs- the verse about trusting in the Lord and how he will direct your path....  So I glibly typed in Proverbs 5:6.  

"Or is it Proverbs 5:4-6," I wondered?  "Hmm.  I think Proverbs 5:6-7."

I was in a hurry.  I was already way late responding to the questions because having to be thoughtful in a public way terrifies me.  I'm not sentimental; I fail entirely at "making memories" and had already answered the school's query of, "Would you like space at the reception to make a memory display for you daughter?" with a thoughtless return email of, "Just shoot me now."

Being thought a good mom of daughters sometimes feels as though it hinges on being able to design gee-haws and tie hair bows-  both of which I've never mastered.  Only at the last moment, right before I pressed send I reflected on how incredibly sleep deprived I was and how that sleep loss is known to impede memory.  

So I double checked Proverbs 5:6 and its surroundings.  Too bad I did.  In large letters on the screen at the reception people could have looked upon a cute photo of my daughter's 2 year old self, dimpling a smile while dressed with an apron configured as a cape, accompanied by the following caption:  (according to the NIV):  

but in the end she is bitter as gall,
sharp as a double-edged sword.
5Her feet go down to death;
her steps lead straight to the grave.
6She gives no thought to the way of life;
her paths wander aimlessly, but she does not know it.

Now that would have made a memory.



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They're Just Words

Friday by Rieshy
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I just emerged from a puddle of reading entitled, The Fault In Our Stars, by John Green. Terminal illnesses and dying children.  My kids like to give me hand grenades masquerading as books because they love me.  Who did I relate to? Who else but Hazel's mother... And Augustus.  I too want a valiant quest filled life while living a day to day one.

I type now with that disjointed feeling of emerging from fiction to realize it's only 8 a.m.  At some point I'd thoughtlessly given permission for my youngest to play a video game on a weekday morning just so I could cry through the last chapters.

One of my favorite poems is Erlkoenig, by Geothe, because, well because I've been on that horse riding "geschwind"  with my child while trying to veballly prevent him from dying as we raced to the hospital..  And my son and I? We've defeated the Erlkoenig.  We've won.  Every time, every separate race..  Reading the words of the poem guts my heart for the fictitious father yet simultaneously fills it with a heady victory.

Words aren't medicine.  Words aren't cures.  But then again they are.

"In the beginning was the word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  John 1:1



"I'd always associated belief in heaven with, frankly, a kind of intellectual disengagement.  But Gus wasn't dumb." Hazel- The Fault In Our Stars


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Beware The Rental

Wednesday by Rieshy
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After 27 years and 3 teens we finally had a fender-bender in the family.  My van is at the body shop getting a manicure and I'm driving around town in a Nissan Pathfinder.  Before the rental I couldn't have pointed out a Nissan Pathfinder if it had rolled over my foot.

Who would think that a Pathfinder would handle better than a 12 passenger Ford Econoline 350?

Oh, everyone.

And they would be right.  I call my van a shoebox on wheels but I love my shoebox; it's dependable and large.  We will be driving it to Colorado with 7 kids this summer.  Did I say it's large?

...But the lure of the sleek and relatively small Pathfinder.  It's like a midlife affair.  My 8 year old son summed it up perfectly and completely honestly, "Mom, I like this car better because the van has become too familiar."



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Flag Day

Monday by Rieshy
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I have a 6 year old that's in a state of "disequilibrium" which, for the uninitiated, means he's got a short fuse and a chip on his shoulder with blinking letters which read, "Unfair".  What's unfair, you ask?  The fact that my son's brain and body have gotten out of alignment in their growth spurts and he suddenly realizes that he is not master of his own domain.... or any other domain... anywhere.  Sometimes it's hard to be six, especially if you have older siblings whom you incorrectly assume have it all together- after all, the 8 year old sibling NEVER loses at Sorry, ergo life is fundamentally unsound.

I took him for a mommy morning; sometimes time away from siblings is good for the soul.  We stopped at the auto parts store and bought a new tail light and red tape and ordered a tail light assembly.  He held the parts while I yanked the old bulb out.  He compared the new light to the old.  He helped me put red tape over the hole in the old assembly.  He walked in the parts store ALONE to return the scissors and say thank you.  He swaggered out.

Next we went to Starbucks.  He bought an Izzy that he coddled the rest of the day.  All his.  No need to gulp.

The County Clerk's office was fun too.  Lots of strange people to look at, and he got to hand the papers to the registrar.  She chatted with him.  He swaggered some more.

Cosco.  The crowning glory.  Inexplicably full of samples early in the day.  Even dropping the free smoothie didn't dampen his mood though they dampened his clothing.   We chatted and chatted and he thought up a menu for the household.   A very alarming man with one bulging eye handed him a small American flag while we were in line.  He thanked the man and self-consciously waved it slightly while I payed.

In the van, I asked him if he had had a nice day with me.  He answered in an uncharacteristically shy voice, "This was the best day ever because for my whole life I have always wanted one of these flags!"

I choose to believe that the flag, in the grand tradition of flags,  represented something more- and even if it didn't, there is nothing more precious than a 6 year old day.






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We Don't Feed It.

Thursday by Rieshy
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We don't have a cat.  
See?



It's beautiful. 
It's always in our yard, sleeping on our porch or back deck.  It lets my boys carry it around.  It lays in their fort guarding them as they play and only stalks off if they really, really offend it.  It tries to drive to karate class in our van with us.
It's been around for about a year.  The neighbors refer to it as ours.

We don't feed it.  We don't have a litter box. We don't have vet bills.  It's healthy and shiny and fat.
It's the best cat we've never owned.

My sister was visiting recently and named it.

Notourcat.

It comes to it's new name.  



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