Life interfered with my Slice of Life

So I've had trouble posting here every day. In fact, I missed five in a row. This week was a week of extras. Extra work. Extra commitments. Extra everything but the tasty peppermint gum. First there was the interview for a local television station to promote a film festival. The station (though local) was an hour away and aired on the same channel as the NCAA Basketball tournament. It goes without saying that the game ran long, so the local news show was shortened (and so were the interviews). I had less time to talk about the festival already, but one of the hosts also began the interview with a question that had nothing to do with the festival. I got us back on track (badly because I was thrown), but that left only time for a quick run-through of events. On top of these problems, the committee chair forgot to show up, so the interview was all on me. Argh!

After amazingly large piles of papers to grade, I also had a cracked windshield to take care of. I set up an appointment, giving the shop plenty of time to order the glass, but when I went in, the manager had forgotten to make the order. He apologized and said he'd do it right then, so it would be in that afternoon! I went back the next morning, and the part was there, thank goodness. Now I have a new and clean windshield (at least for awhile).

The festival took up the week for me, so I can't say much more. I'm a failure at the daily slice-of-life posting but have still enjoyed thinking through some of the funny things that happen every day.

Shopping for Donna

I have a friend going through some major health problems that make her so dizzy and woozy she has trouble driving herself anywhere, including the grocery store. Since I usually shop on Friday afternoons, I have added her list to mine for the last few weeks. In theory, this should be an easy task with a simple separation of items at the register. But our shopping habits are as different as they could possibly be: I'm a vegetarian, and Donna's allergic to fiber.

I usually spend more time in the produce aisle than anywhere else in the store, adding soy milk, almonds, and whole wheat pasta to my usual mushrooms, carrots, and organic bananas. These last few weeks, though,  I search through an aisle of pop tarts for the frosted cinnamon and chase Cadbury eggs across the cart. My worst nightmare is the hunt for the right frozen dinners in the freezer section. There are Stouffer's pastas and Smart Ones beef stew. Marie Callender's cheesy rice. And pepperoni pizzas--only the think crust will do.

Today I had an interview in Champaign(about an hour from here), so I shopped early at the local grocery rather than Walmart. That meant I couldn't get the pharmacy items Donna needed for her dog, so I had to pick those up at a drugstore on the way to her house. Now that I'm writing this, I think I forgot the cheesy rice dinners. The list this week went on for two pages, and I forgot to turn to page 2.

Productivity

I like being able to cross items off a list, almost as much as I enjoy making the lists in the first place. I kept a journal for years. I wrote in a diary with a lock and key during my teen years, writing down school crushes and fears, and even throwing in a cuss word or two for emphasis.

Now I just keep lists, a plan for the day beside my computer and a compilation of films I've watched on what used to be a telephone table. Today I successfully completed all the tasks on my list and added another movie to my notebook. I wrote a grant proposal and promoted a film festival, but most importantly I had time to meet a friend for coffee and a chat.

And yes, I added my coffee date to my list along with the usual emails and memos. Instead of just listing jobs, I like to include events and social outings, highlighting the memories, but also drawing parallels. For me, these events are just as important as the tasks I have to complete. For me, a coffee date makes it easier to spend hours at a computer. I even include my exercise classes and dog walks.

When I was writing in my diary as a teen, I sometimes had trouble sleeping, but instead of counting sheep, I went through all the activities of the day one by one, showing myself how tired I should be after such a busy day. It usually worked. I started yawning, slowed my breathing, and fell asleep. Lists work for me and always have.

The Simple Pleasure of Existence

Today I finally finished evaluating films for a festival we're hosting next week as part of Women's History Month. We decided to make submissions easy by using Film Freeway, a free online service for festivals. The new submission method worked very well---so well that we received 864 submissions! I was feeling rather overwhelmed at the numbers, but after honing according to our criteria, I found that we could work through the short films more quickly than expected. The due date for our evaluations is Friday, but we finished today, two days early.

This year we're showing these winning films along with two features: Fish Tank  and Mosquita y Mari. Last year, though, we showed Beetle Queen Conquers Tokyo, a film that highlighted Japan's interconnected relationship with insects. The film inspired this poem:

the simple pleasure of existence

two men hunt insects

pulling beetles from a knothole

one stamps a tree trunk

crickets with weak wings cannot cry

dragonflies:

strength

courage

bravery

fireflies:

unrequited love

we learn from insects

their numbers are much fewer now

the world is being destroyed

Happy St. Patrick's Day: Memories of the Ohio River

I spent the weekend in Florida with my Mom, Step-dad, and former exchange student Ole, but when the cousins visited for a barbecue, I was back on the Ohio River, floating on a pontoon boat, eating catfish and frog legs, and fishing with my brother. 

Cousin Bill and Judy were there, so I thought of Uncle Carl and Aunt Nellie. But cousin Mike and Sandy were also there, my Uncle Charles's son and his wife. Only Uncle Arnold and Aunt Audrea were unrepresented. Here are a couple of poems about the river:

Fish Kill

Uncle Arnold got fat

that summer

belly full

of potato candy

a sugar roll

bursting

with peanut butter

like pimples

Aunt Midge popped

on his back after work.

Red, white, and blue

puffing him up

painting his lungs

like fourth of July

beside the Ohio 

Uncle Arnold died 

at the bottom of an oil tank.

Aunt Midge

drew fingers through

curly yellow locks

knocking catfish off hooks

into bloody buckets

watching them

gasp and swell

under a rotting sun.

My Aunt Nellie

My Aunt Nellie ate a banana a day

every day after her husband, Carl, got his pacemaker.

The doctor noticed the red splotches on her face and arms

and took her blood pressure in spite of her protests.

My Aunt Nellie wore pastel polyester shorts

with elastic waist bands and sleeveless white shirts

with mock turtle neck collars

every day the summer I visited her.

She looked like a turtle herself

in her green rubber webbed thongs.

She could almost swim across the Ohio

and dive for her dinner on the way back.

My Aunt Nellie smoked Salem 100s out of the corner

of her pursed red lip-sticked mouth

until the end of that summer on the river.

Carl’s doctor warned her, gave her little

white explosive pills she forgot to take—

Carl spent too much time in the garden without a hat

and lost part of his nose. Aunt Nellie snapped half-runners

into a thick iron pot, tossed in wide slices of fatty bacon

turned the burner on low and walked downstairs

to the screened-in garage summer house.

She drove an off-white VW bug with a stick shift

to the market for corn and tomatoes.

My Aunt Nellie fished all afternoon on the dock

in her straw wide-brimmed hat.

I sat on the river bank porch swing with my brother

dreaming of capless blondes and redheads

wearing jeans so tight no corn bread and fried catfish

would fit between their seams.

I hugged my Aunt Nellie when I left her.

Aunt Nellie ate a banana a day every day until her husband, Carl,

entered the hospital one more time. The doctor didn’t notice her shortness of breath

and fading color. She drove home from her sister’s climbed the steep stairs to the living room door and searched her purse for the house key.

The neighbors say she staggered and fell on the stoop without a sound.

But when I eat my banana a day every day,

I hear an explosion

and smell half-runners flavored with bacon simmering on the stove.

Florida Beach 2015: A Source of Memories

My Mother Tells Stories

Grandma carried a catfish

wrapped in newspaper

and an empty bird cage

on a bus ride across the river into the mountains.

She must have missed the muddy river

where turtles, frogs, and bottom feeding fish

fed family reunions and summer parties

on her brother’s river bank and pontoon boat:

When she moved Grandpa to Florida

they bought a house between the Ocean

and the River, so close to each you could

see water on both ends of the street.

After her sister moved down

Grandma phoned her every morning

begging her to beach fish

after typing practice.

Wearing Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouses

straw visors and clip on sunglasses

they sat on short green woven folding chairs

and threw long lines into the waves.

Once grandma caught a shark

on a long pole in a bucket

and kept it on the hook

dragging it up the beach and the block

just to prove she’d caught it.

A neighbor made necklaces

out of shark teeth, wearing one

with a puca shell bracelet.

My mother tells stories.

Scrub jays swoop down from live oaks

grab peanuts out of fingers

fly off to peck ground holes

and bury shells in the sand.

Gators in the Florida Wetlands

During our last Florida outing, we toured a nearby Wetlands, and I took tons of pictures of water birds of all shapes and sizes. More interesting to my Step-Dad and friend Ole, though, were the alligators. According to one hiker, more than 21 were spotted during our late morning stroll.

The pictures I took reminded me of a poem about alligator-mouthed dogs:

The Yard in Oklahoma

A five -foot chain link

around a sage lawn

cut weeds and razor grass

stinging

like the bee hive I mowed over on Thursday.

Two dogs nap on a shaded patio.

A neighbor’s chicken feed

batting for corn

 into the wind

over the fence.

The collie herds the chicken toward the hound.

Looking like alligators

their long snouts open to rows of white

slicing breast

 like grass.