that's mrs. mediocrity to you

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Being moved.
Tell us about a time this year that you were moved by the generosity of another.

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This is a story I wrote earlier this year over at Vision & Verb.
When I read this prompt, this immediately came to mind:

hand me downs

Last week, I went to make pickles with my mom and my 85-year-old friend, Katie. It was a good day, we prepared the cucumbers and after we had put them on ice, we had three hours to spend together chatting and eating pie and catching up.

We talked of things that need fixing, people who are ill, people Katie’s age who are getting remarried, neighbors and neighborhoods that have changed, children and grandchildren and times that no one can keep up with. We talked of life.

At one point, Katie brought up the fact that she is trying to clear things out of her house, to prepare for the future that none of us wants to think or talk about.

Gradually, she has begun to give things away, clean up, hoe out, pare down. She is 85 and still lives on her own in the house she and her husband lived in, despite the fact that she is on crutches and, if her doctor could get his way, she would be in a wheelchair. But she’s a fighter, and refuses to give in to that, refuses to move into any sort of senior living facility, refuses to give up her independence.

From what I can tell, she lives in constant pain, one of her hips is basically deteriorating, bit by bit. And so, with the help of family and friends that love her, she gets by on her own. I have to say, I admire her tenacity.

As we sat there, chatting, she told us the story of how she wanted to pass her “good” china on to her daughter-in-law, and how this offer was promptly refused because the dishes, being antique porcelain rimmed with gold, have to be washed by hand. Imagine that! She had then tried to offer them to her granddaughters with the same reply.

We continued on with our conversation, catching up on all the news as the afternoon rolled by.

When it came time to move onto the next step, the mixing of the brine, we got up to gather the ingredients. While we were standing at the counter Katie opened a cupboard door and said, “See, there they are. What am I going to do with all these dishes?”

I looked at her and I said, “Well, I don’t have a dishwasher…”

And she started to cry, saying that she had wanted to offer them to me, but she didn’t know if I would want them, either.

After assuring her that I would love them, would in fact, cherish them, we gathered up boxes and newspaper and began packing them up, a twelve-piece place setting of antique gold-rimmed dishes that I have no idea where to store, but will most definitely love with all my heart.

I have a feeling that each time I use them and have to stand at the sink carefully washing each one by hand, I will have fond memories of a feisty little five-foot-tall woman to put a giant smile on my face.

And that washing these beautiful dishes will always remind me to take very special care of the ones I love.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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If you could have lunch with anybody, who would it be?

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well, that’s easy.

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you.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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Loathing
Who or what do you loathe and how have you expressed that in 2011?

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There is very little that I actually loathe in this life,
but I will do my best with this one.

Loathe:
Wasting time.
Going to the doctor (see: wasting time)

Terrified of:
Worms. On a phobic level.
Wasting time.

Strongly dislike:
Hearing, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”
(see: going to the doctor)
Onions.
Bitterness, not in food, in people.
Intolerance. (see: wasting time)
Insincerity.

Fear:
Losing the people that I love.
Losing the ability to run.

Bothersome:
Getting up too early.
Getting up too late.
Insomnia. (see: getting up too late)
Mean people.

Pet peeves:
Snoring. (see: insomnia)
Bad grammar, especially my own.
Lukewarm tea water in a restaurant.
The phrase “authentic living.”
(see: if i’m breathing, i’m authentic.)

Squeamish:
Violent movies.
Spaghetti. (see: worms)
Anything that looks like worms. (see: spaghetti)

Banes of my existence:
Laundry.
Middle-age spread. (see: losing the ability to run)
To Do Lists.
Reply All.
Paperwork. (see: to do lists)
Fear.
Loathing. (see: wasting time)

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{reverb11} check it out here

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A Community I Love
Online & in real life we’re all part of a multitude of communities.
Tell us about one that moves you.

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We also have the crazy one, the old lady, the little girl (who is actually 3x little), and my handsome man.

Yes, I am talking about cats. And yes, I am a crazy cat lady.

This one, the one in the picture, has become king of the castle, just by the fact that he gets to go outside. He rules the roost, or, at the very least, he tries.

He brings me gifts I cannot look at, carnage that makes me cringe, and an indifference that leaves me chasing after his affection. (If you have cats, you know what I mean.)

He’s a vicious killer, a well-trophied hunter, and a sweet doodle bug all at once. I know, I know, I am crazy.

He guards the yard while I work inside, spending my days with the other four kitties as they amble in and out of my attention zone, all unique, all funny, all loved and well-fed and spoiled and snuggled.

He stops in for visits and snacks, and goes right back outside for more hunting. More chasing. More napping. When he doesn’t check in, I get nervous. I check the road, I call his name, I pace.

I know, I know, I am crazy.

There are so many communities I love that I could have written about, my family, my real-life friends, my online friends, so many people that add richness to my life.

But this is how I spend my days, here, alone, with these five cats. (And one crazy dog.) And I almost didn’t write this post about my cats, because I didn’t want to seem like too much of a crazy cat lady.

But I AM a crazy cat lady.

And I’m crazy in love with this cat.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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Sometimes we find teachers in the most unexpected places.
Who surprised you as a teacher this year,
and what did you learn?

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Funny because just yesterday, my 18-years-young niece
taught me a valuable lesson.

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I mentioned that someone had upset me by being
bitter and acting in a very un-holidayish manner.

And she said “eh, forget ’em! tis Christmas!
those that anger you, conquer you.”

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She’s a very cute wise old soul,
don’t you think?

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{reverb11} check it out here

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When did you feel most at home this year:
in your life, in your space, in your career, in your skin?

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Since I already wrote about where I feel most at home this year (here), I’m going to flip this prompt on its side and write about where I feel LEAST at home.

Apparently, it’s in my own skin.

I hate photos of myself, even all doctored-up and prettified ones like the one above.  Really, I’ve always been that way, but it has definitely gotten worse as I’ve gotten… ahem, older.

I no longer feel at home in this body that is breaking down much more quickly than my mind.

Inside, I still feel 25. I think this is Mother Nature’s sense of humor. We get the wisdom of age with a body that is too tired to act on it. Just when we start to feel comfortable with who we are, finally, our bodies turn on us, slapping us in the face for getting fresh and thinking we could do all the things we did when we were young.

I want to run, every day. Even every other day is a struggle now, knees and hips and muscles stay sore, need rest, complain loudly.

Parts start to wear out, those knees and hips, teeth and eyes. And I won’t even go into the sagging. Or the money I’ve spent on face creams and their promises, promises. Photoshop helps, managing to hide the flaws and wrinkles and extra skin. At least a little. And that’s a good thing.

The problem is, my mind hasn’t caught up to my body. This body that is home to my soul. A soul that is still working to stay airborne. A body keeps me tethered to the ground, calling me home with shouts and exhaustion, aches and admonishment.

Often, I find myself looking at my body with derision. Scorn. Anger.

Asking, why can’t you keep up?

And so it is.

I suppose I will get over it eventually. Settle in to this skin that is more wrinkled than smooth, more loose than firm, more dry than elastic.

But I have a feeling that by the time I reach that point, it will be time for my soul to fly on its own.

So for now, I will simply call a truce with those wrinkles, those weary bones, those aching muscles. We will agree to disagree and move on. We will be roommates out of necessity, sharing days and weeks and years.

But I’m keeping my face cream all to myself.

Take that, Mother Nature.

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{reverb11} check it out here  {resound11} check it out here

what happens to all
the questions
that go
unanswered?

what space do they
fill,
what mirror reveals
their reflection?

i see them sometimes
at night
when my eyes are filled
with insomnia

they glow in the dark,
a little

offering up silhouettes
and sibilance

but the edges
are always

blurred

and

when i reach my hand out
in the dark
there is nothing

there

but

i hear whispers

tiny bits
of vowel and consonant
syllable
inflection
rejection
perfection

hints of laughter

it’s funny though,
the way i never
hear

music.

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this post is part of dVerse poets Open Link Night join us!

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What scared you this year more than anything else?
Did you learn anything new about yourself?

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loss.

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of youth.

of life.

of running.

of comfort.

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it’s a

good thing

i had hope

to balance

it out.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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What are 12 things your life doesn’t need in 2012?
How are you making out on your 11 things from last year?

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all i really need to do is add one word to last year’s list.

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i can pick at least eleven twelve things
the whole world could do without:

war. poverty. hunger.

intolerance. abuse. disease.

hatred. cruelty. disaster.

violence. indifference.

inertia.

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after that,

all the things i don’t need,

well, they’re just

things.

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still.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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What do you wish you had done more of in 2011?

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laughed until tears poured down my face.

run faster and harder and further.

danced in the shadow of a mountain.

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hugged.

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believed in everything and nothing all at once.

laid in the grass and stared at the clouds.

extra cups of morning tea in my garden.

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said i love you.

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listened to all of the music that i love.

worried less and smiled more.

read books until the wee hours of the morning.

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accepted.

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held hands beneath the stars.

spent lazy nowhere-to-be time with my family.

gave less time to work and more time to love.

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kissed.

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ignored the clock and the calendar.

invited the moon inside.

collected all the words that spill from my mind.

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nothing.

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{reverb11} check it out here