Let's Not Talking About Mowing the Lawn (Okay. I Mowed. Ugh). But Now It's Friday & I Can Feel Good That At Least That Chore is Done

The problem with winter thawing is that the grass grows and with the sunlight on my house (with not much shade), it grows quickly and thick. I would rather wait until May, and it took everything out of me not to mow a few weeks ago. I hate the first time I get out there, because it kills the mower...I can only do a little chunk at a time. And there's so much clean up...the usual mulcher can't cut through the depth of the greenery. Yes, I get True Green. It comes truly green in the fall, but then dies out over the summer heat.

Still, I got it done. And it was frustrating. I am seeing all the outdoor work I need to know, and I'm hyper conscious of hornets and bees building nests in my home again.

Yesterday's prompt was about ending and beginning and my LA Public Schools fiend, Stacey Joy shared her poem to celebrate 40 years of teaching and her soon-to-be retirement. I love when I find teachers who love what they do and excel at it (and I love the NWP family). I went free verse with a shout out to her influence on so many of us who do #VerseLove.. 

I have to visit campus today and I'm looking at the calendar ahead, biting my nails. It is Friday, however, and I am looking forward to a weekend where I hope to let my mind slow down a little. Although I tried this yesterday, I spent most of the day going through emails I missed this week. 

All Endings are Beginnings

b.r.crandall (inspired by Stacey Joy)

a nd so he sleeps-in two extra hours, this chud, this slo b

l aughing there’s no milk, no eggs, just leftover chocolat e-

l ove from last night’s Whitman fest. and here he is eatin g

e very morsel for breakfast: molasses. ginger. caffeination. i

n eed renewal. restoration. revival. recovery. The year has bee n

d ecapitating Dionysus big-time; no moredancing with the moon.

i am five decades now. Another blobfish surfing a daily tsunam i,

n arrating lilypads with sea salt & caramel amongst cattails. a ma n

g arnishing tragic one-liners for comedians & morticians…a fro g

s wallowing manic flies all to make a dollar. c’est la vie. revelation s.

a nd here we are again, kid. bildungsroman. aging. acta non verb a. 

r eading one another’s mind on a screen, these fingertips togethe r,

e xisting in dialogue with the unknown - the dramatic improv gam e. 

b ut today is about hope & opening front doors in underoos. W e

e xist as our own cartoon. Stripe & Yellow climbing a mountai n,

g loriously searching for meaning (wings) after being cocoone d.

i llum oportet crescere, me autem minui. illlum oportet crescere, me autem minu i

nerd. dork. dufus, dingleberry. dweeb, dolt, turd, imbecilic moro n

(n ote to self: self-deprecation is survival). we must keep laughin g.

i t’s our job to roll pesky stubborn groundhogs up caterpillar pile s

n ovember will bring new stories. rhythms. bustling streets. Accr a

g hana. And I’ll be here…ready to read your prayer and hymna l,

s tacey. your poetry, careful & playful. engaging & inevitably joy fu l

acta non verba - actions, not words

illum oportet crescere, me autem minnui - for others more…more me, less.