Sunday, January 15, 2012

1 cor 15

Untimely born I
blink and miss
the awaited belle époque

I never, through jostling
legs, stretch fingers to brush
the precious hem

I never, with clink of coin
into box
drop the finality of my last

I never shout, ecstatic energy
coursing through, Hosanna
it is time

I never weep, perfume spilling
on feet yet unmarred
my shattered humanity piercing

I untimely born
unworthy to be called
missed it all

But by the grace of God I 
am what I am.

it’s true what they say

and how you never really know
someone. You meet
take hat and coat to hang
in hall and so it begins
the code of smile
eyebrow raise and all
that goes unsaid
But when they go, and they do
stand waiting in the hall
you retrieve your heart’s
hat for a stranger
whose furrow shuffle means
 furrow, shuffle, give me my hat already
to wear
And you close door on the back
Of someone
you never          

Saturday, January 14, 2012

it snows in january and everyone's shocked: must be vancouver.

This morning reminds me (quite pleasantly) of my Fort Langley Saturday mornings. A quiet coziness settles with the snow and I seek expression for this contemplation.

I feed the cat around 9 when she is alternatingly walking up one side of my bed and then the other, poking her whiskers in my face and insisting "Mom, I'm hungry mom, I'm hungry now, mom". Sadly, rolling over and hiding my face only buys me another moment, as she makes her loop and finds me again.

The cat fed, I return cocoonward and doze happily until people began to text me. Really people, texting on a Saturday morning? Napolean and I exclaim in unison, "Gosh!"

Upon actually getting up, I make myself  a coffee misto with the last of the Christmas blend, check out the snow outside my door (already melting) and settle in at the computer to check on the world (Ironic? Not in the least).

 Today is the last of my new year's freedom, the last Saturday where the biggest demands on my time are my brother coming over to fix my computer and my friends coming over for a dinner before we go see the Swell Season documentary. Sigh.

I google search the lyrics of the song in my head, (Tom's Diner by Susanne Vega). My sister, a teen in the 90's, used to sing this song to me and it has remained, nestled in the layers of my soul, bursting out every now and again. Thanks to 21st century technology, it takes me less than a minute to find the late 20th century song title, the original music video, and upload it to facebook. Funny, funny life.

Da-da-da-daa, da-da-da-daa, da-da-da-da-da-da-daa!

Tom's Diner for you who need it like I do!

Sunday, January 8, 2012

ferreted away

Amanda has a ferret. She tells me a lot of stories about this ferret. Stories that have made me curious and even a wee bit enamored with the idea of ferrets. But meeting Ozzy was an experience unto itself. No stories could prepare me for this furry, wriggling little body in my hands. Or his little eyes imploring me to stop wearing him like a scarf.

Ozzy is hilarious. Endless hours of entertainment in a furry package. From his faux-sleep reflex that kicks in when you scruff him (see video), to his skittering sideways, and of course, his penchant for exploring (read stealing from) unattended purses.
                    Video demonstrates how to "Scruff" your ferret

My visit would not have been complete without witnessing this alleged thievery.

I placed Ozzy in my purse, put it down and walked away. He sorted about, finding nothing immediately of interest (there was no food or gum) and came back out. But something pulled him back into the purse and he rooted around some more.  Finally, his rear-end wiggling in delight as he burrowed further into a pocket, he emerged with my brand new lipstick triumphiantly in his teeth and booked it across the room.

I actually had to pry it out of his tiny jaws. And yes, I felt a little mean. But come on, Ozzy! I mean, pick anything else and I would let you have it. But this brand new bright red Clinique lipstick, yeah, that's not happening. And besides Oz, its not even your shade.