Tag: roses

Monday Random

~ Pleasant Street ~ 4 Comments
  • I have bought some basil plants that are still in the little containers I bought them in
  • and today is the day.
  • I will get them in pots and learn how to grow them indoors.
  • I have a great SE window that will allow that I think, if I do not blow it.
  • I am told that using fresh basil is miles away from dehydrated
  • and that it just might change my life.
  • I am willing to give it a go.
  • I will also try and save two begonias that the squirrels have been trying to bury their nuts in on the porch.
  • I do NOT have a green thumb.
  • I can learn, right?
  • Old dog, new tricks?
  • We are both home today as Monday is our Sunday, and I will keep dinner simple.
  • I am making a pizza crust soon, and letting the dough hang out on the counter until we are ready.
  • Then, pizza and movie night.
  • He has never seen “Dr. Strangelove”, and I think everyone should see it once.
  • I got it delivered from Netflix, who I am told, will stop delivering movies by mail sometime in September.
  • So I got hooked up with it again for kicks, and honestly it is kind of nostalgic, the sentimental mood it puts me in when a new movie arrives in the mail.
  • I also miss Blockbuster.
  • We lived for a while on a corner a block away from a Blockbuster store.
  • Back then we had very few surprises in our life, and no air conditioning.
  • On a hot day we’d cross the street, hand in hand, me and my children and go into this wonderfully chilled place with movies galore.
  • One for each kid and one for the folks. It is a nice memory.
  • In the meantime , I am continuing to downsize, and moving furniture to make everything fit better.
  • Writing is taking a hit, but I have not given up on it.
  • I just find lately that I write more journal entries than creative ventures.
  • I hope my funny bone is not broken.
  • I hope my poetic license is still up to date.
  • Meanwhile, we have pizza and a movie to look forward to
  • and a salad and cookies.
  • Is Pup-peroni made from puppies?
  • I was just wondering.

Happy Monday, I hope you find something to give you a chuckle, or at least a smile. When all else fails, go smell the roses, that always works as a mood-changer.

What the bees know

~ Pleasant Street ~ 7 Comments

Autumn flew in my window
yesterday, the leaves talking
swishing around the birds who were left, still
a sudden chill feeling good with the oven on

I fought it, driving to my errands
in clam-diggers and a t-shirt, my
jacket on the back seat ‘just in case’, and my
open shoes sounding silly–‘flip-flop, flip-flop’

Shivering, skin bumpy
whilst waiting for the oil to be changed
‘Step inside?’ (a well-meaning cashier)
/No thanks, I’m good./

Leaning to sniff a last rose
an angry ‘bzzzzzz’ passed my ear
putting my senses in their place, hugging
myself with cold arms, then the sting

A man passing, remarking, ‘some folks
don’t know when to quit’
a smug grin, zipping up
his jacket, his eyes head to toe

Turning my back to inhale the rose’s aroma
once more, hearing the jingle of keys
my car was done, holding my cold water bottle
to the rising bite on my forearm



Mondays: Small talk

~ Pleasant Street ~ 8 Comments

brief-encounter-fire
Come evening we sit in the front room–you with your chamomile and I have my crossword puzzle on my lap. I swear when I make a mistake in ink.

The phone rings across the room. I cough. You turn your head once, but you don’t get up. I claim that I can tell it is a telemarketer by the tone.

“Is there any beer?”
I continue working on 23 down, not answering.
“Is there any beer?”
“There is no beer.” I write in the answer.
“Pity.”

The clock strikes 8.
I put down the puzzle.
“Meet you there?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, it is Monday night.”
“So it is. Did you?”
“Yes, of course.”

I stand in the doorway in crimson.
I typically wear only black, but promised to always wear
his favourite color on Mondays.
“A new one. Lace?”
“Yes.”

After
we lie very still
he on his side and I on my back
smoking.
He makes a pretense of coughing.
“Your hair looks like satin in this light”

“And you look like the boy I met on the train.”
“Was that 1988?”
“You know it was.”
“Best day ever.”
Smoke rings at the ceiling speak of it.

I sit cross-legged while he brushes my hair. Every few strokes he leans forward and speaks directly into my ear, whispering
“I love Mondays.”

“Did you say you bought roses?”
“Red ones, two dozen”
“Where are they?”
“I saw you were home and ran in quickly. They must be in my car.”
I smile.
“Silly.”

I lie on my side and he on his back. I push hair off his forehead with a delicate gesture. He closes his eyes.

“Let’s lay here ’til Tuesday.”