Rebel Against Hypocrisy

Some time ago, a person who lives in my building complained to building management about the beach umbrellas I keep to protect my plants when the temperature gets too hot. The complaint went nowhere. But the person kept jabbering about how the umbrellas were dangerous, saying that they could be knocked down by the wind and hit someone below (mind you, my umbrella stands are tied down to the rails). The person also suggested that my umbrellas make the building look ugly. A few weeks after the complaint was made, the person asked me for a cutting from my passion flower plant. I said no. Last week, I shared some of my tomato, sunflower, and black-eyed Susan seeds with a few of my neighbors. The complainer heard about it, and asked me if they could have some. I said no.

Be genuine
(in life and ink),
rebel against hypocrisy.

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #31: Genuine Ink.

Balance

not-quite Journaling, 36

 On the landscape

of my heart,
I grow words—

poems and tales
that turn blues and brights
into hope blooms.

 

“When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden.”
~ Minnie Aumonier ~

 

5/24/2022: My wee garden is no longer empty. Everything is sooo soothingly green. Some things are blooming (tomato, daisy, strawberry…), other things are fruiting (tomato, strawberry… *and the blue jays have noticed*). My treacherous digestive system, on the other hand, continues to be a mess. But things are very slowly getting better. I am tired, my throat is slightly raw, and I have not been able to eat my slice of birthday cake for this year. Still… my wee garden is no longer empty, and that makes the bad less so. Also, I’ll probably have my cake in the next week or three (and yes, I’m going to eat it too). 

6/6/2022: On my way to see the doctor, after my latest cycle of Crohn’s crappiness. I’m feeling great, and I hope today’s tests reflect that. I’m ready for a break that lasts more than a week--it would be nice to be able to go on a hike (or 3) in this lovely weather.

 

thorns and blooms,
to make the world think
of balance

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #30: Beloved Books.

On Not-So-Good Days…

I wake up at 0713. I rinse my mouth 3 times. I oil pull for 13 minutes and 31 seconds. I clean my teeth (brush, rinse, toothpick, rinse, brush, rinse, floss, rinse, brush, water floss). I shower. I make my bed. I make my breakfast (13 grams pecans *crushed and roasted*, 31 grams blueberries *sliced into thirds*, 39 grams grapes *sliced into ninths*, 69 grams yogurt). I brew my coffee (⅓ cup water, 1 teaspoon decaf coffee, 1 teaspoon raw sugar). I eat. I wait 31 minutes and 13 seconds before cleaning my teeth (brush, rinse, toothpick, rinse, brush, rinse, floss, rinse, brush, water floss). I write for 3 hours and 13 seconds (justify text, wordcount must be an odd number *preferably ending on 13 or 31 or 39 or 69*).

the OCD beast
turning sweet rituals to trap,
counterfeiting calm

via

a wee note…

- this was my response to a Mental Health Awareness exercise, which asked people living with obsessive compulsive disorder to “explain OCD in a way a non-sufferer can easily understand”. We only had 15 minutes to write a response, so this is not exactly complete--for instance, I didn’t note that on not-so-good days, I must wash my hands (the knife and cutting board, too) after handling each fruit, or that the corners of the bedsheet must form 45-degree angles (I use a ruler), or that I can’t step in the shower if the drain isn’t perfectly clean, (if I can’t avoid a not perfectly clean drain, then I must shower with my eyes closed, shaking so violently that I’m always afraid I might fall).

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #29: Little Rituals.