‘to commit to memory…’

 “I’m never going to forget this.”

“I will never forget that face.”  

“Hell will freeze over before I forget this!”

Then the fairy trickster godmother sentences that item to a remote, sticky glob of grey matter.

A mixed bag of blessings, I would say.  Whilst clawing through cobwebs and grey ooze to find sequestered memories, we live the benefit of forgiveness.  The slate is cleared of all but the dimmest trace of what we seek.

There is freedom in letting go.

I guess that’s why stuff is so important to humans; our sensory ‘calendar’ marking our journey.  To be sure, not every item is precious.  Every item is, however, evidence of a life lived.  What a pity to rely on such tangible proof.

Damn! I think I just understood a tiny bit of what hoarders must deal with.  Eeegads!

I’m going to go sort out some stuff right now!

Via Daily Prompt:  Memorize

Header Image:  Matt Gibson’s Brain

These old boots…

When was it, exactly, that my hubs became enamored with retirement?  It’s been at least a couple years, I’d say.  His passionate dream of not clocking in has paralleled my journey of inability to work.  Me, at home, with assorted physical limitations.  Him, at work, with a longing not to be there.

On Thurs., 8/24/2017, our two worlds converged.  He is retired.

retirement - boots

Never, in all our married life of 35 years, have we lived a ‘typical’ work schedule.  I have worked mostly a 9 to 5 -type work week, M-F.  He has worked various shifts, the odd days off, holidays, etc.  It meant he missed a lot of events over the years.  It meant I was a quasi-single mom.  It kept us fed, housed, clothed.  He and I did the best we could with what we had.

You know, like most of us!

And now what lies ahead? Grand schemes for travel? Great building projects? Second careers?

For now, we’re learning how to share space.  He is trying on his freedom, finding small projects, rising and retiring at “normal” times.  I am a fly on the wall — watching.  My goal is not to interfere too much, allowing him to feel and experiment with this strange landscape.  He has worked since he was a young teen.  He is 64 now.  He doesn’t know it yet, but he probably will struggle a bit with the sheer strangeness of it all.

Either way, I’m here.

via Daily Prompt:  Enamored.

Photo:  Retirement by Mark Bonica

Remind you of anybody?

Again,  our friend Merriam-Webster provides insight:  Visceral  

not intellectual

dealing with crude or elemental emotions

I handpicked these definitions because they feel so “Trump”.

Never has the presidential veneer been so eroded as it is today.  One has only to read, listen, and watch to see our president instantly splay his raw, unfiltered self in the media.  While President Obama put social media into play, it is President Trump who uses it with reckless abandon.

His visceral and public reactions expose the man.

His enemies feed voraciously upon the fodder that he spreads.

It’s all a bit nauseating.

Call me old fashioned, I don’t care.  I find myself longing for a good measure of restraint.

Not a pleasant word…

Merriam-Webster:

“To exude something often in a faintly repellent manner.”

My initial reaction to the Daily Prompt ‘ooze’ was one of repulsion.

Sure, you can ‘ooze with confidence’.  A turtle can crawl through the ‘ooze’.  You ‘ooze’ moisture when you sweat.  Evolutionists might say we climbed out of the ‘primordial ooze’.

My mind turns to words like ‘seep’ and ‘percolate’.

If you have a septic system (we do), and have replaced a tank and drain fields, then you probably know about the importance of percolation.  Basically, there is a lot of oozing involved.

And there you have it.

 

 

Head Bangers’ Ball

Two new adventures last night. First, helping Pam (my sis-in-law) at the door taking tickets and checking IDs at the Eagles.  Second, a metal music show. I took out my hearing aids for this one, opting for foam earplugs instead.  And what fun!

Can a 59-year-old fall in love with a genre so riotous? Yes! I felt like a child lining a parade route, horns and drums pounding a primal reverberation in my chest.

And the crowd? The range of ages was staggering. The leathers and spikes and tattoos and chained wallets were donned by nice people. They were old and young.  I saw shorts, dresses, boots, denims, nose rings, dreads, shaved heads and sweaty jumping folks.

It was such fun!

Would I do this again someday.  Yes! Only maybe I’ll try a henna tattoo in one my arm first, LOL. Hey, I gotta start small.  😉

Photo credit 20120413 – Heavy Metal – 72 by T. Kenbrock