Are the cat food zombies made of wax? Or plastic?
For the RDP: waxy.
Meanwhile, the cats terrorize the doll house.

Are the cat food zombies made of wax? Or plastic?
For the RDP: waxy.
Meanwhile, the cats terrorize the doll house.

Taken two mornings ago.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: balloon. The space in the clouds is balloon shaped, isn’t it?
I visit my friend Amy in Portland. We are friends from medical school at the Medical College of Virginia, now VCU, Richmond, Virginia.
Her mother is Nancy Clough and lives nearby. Amy’s house is surrounded by bronze sculptures, because Nancy Clough works in bronze and pottery.
This series is in Nancy’s house. She says that she sold winter and needs to pour another. More than one set is out there.
I love the joy in these sculptures.
Years ago I bought a vase from Nancy Clough, when I was visiting Amy on the west coast. I still have that vase and now a new one, from this trip. I bought the smallest vase back years ago, because it was all that I could afford. My mother was an artist, so I know how much it means to artists to have people buy their work. And anyhow, I love the flowers on the vase.
I tried googling her and find her on LinkedIn. She can be reached regarding her sculptures, just message me. I want to photograph more of the sculptures in the yard, so I will have to plan another trip. Heads up, Amy, I am coming back.
One must go through the water.
One might choose not
avoid
there are ways to avoid feelings
Another one might choose not
I let go
and fall
and the water closes over my head
and I let myself sink
all the way down
even
if I am over
a deep trench
once down
once deep
I open my eyes
and let my breath out
and let the deep rush in
I don’t know why
people avoid this place
it is dangerous
but so beautiful
the darkness
with beings that glow
some attack
of course
but I too am a monster
bare my fangs
and receive respect
or fear
or friendship
I am very safe here
it is so familiar
in the deep
What are your mad skills?
My maddest baddest skill, shared with my younger sister, is reading hidden emotions. Children of alcoholics and addicts learn that one young. Or die. Or start drinking/drugging to numb young.
Our culture is bloody weird. Emotions are stuffed like turkeys until people are near bursting. I swear that half my clinic time was letting people talk about emotions and then saying, well, those seem like pretty reasonable feelings in view of the insanity going on in your family. There would be a silence while the person thought about the horrible terrible feelings being reasonable and then I would say, “You said you want an antidepressant. Do you want to discuss that?”
Often people put it off. Once the feelings are OUT and present and looked at instead of stuffed/contained/terrifying, the person would say, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I need it.”
“Do you want to schedule to come back in two weeks?”
Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If they wanted to start an antidepressant, I would caution that the recommendation was to stay on it for six months minimum if tolerated. Also, if they were starting it in June, I would say, “Don’t stop it in January. Wait until the sun is back. Here that can be July 4th. At least wait until spring.”
The plants are all thinking about spring now. My magnolia would like three more days of sun and then it will burst into bloom. The plums are budding and close to exploding. My camellia is usually first, but I trimmed it at the wrong time of year and so it is not blooming. It looks healthy, though. It is sort of sulking for a season. I would like to sulk for a season too.
Why is our culture, the US, so terrified of emotion? We think everything should be about logic. Emotions are both hormonally and electrically mediated through nerves and blood and they are INFORMATION about our environment and each other. We should let emotions roll through us like waves, and not worry about them so much. I think of myself as an ocean. The emotions are the weather. They roll through. Ok, big storm. Then rain, and lightening. Then low clouds and some fog. Then sun and a beautiful day to sail with a light breeze. But the deeper currents change slowly and the weather is not really that important. I reside in the depths.
The furor over rising prices seems ridiculous to me. The roaring twenties has begun already in housing and buying stuff on Amazon. I have bought two things from Amazon in the last two years. I like to buy local. One order was for my future daughter in law’s wish list. I think people are buying so that they do not have to feel. It is cultural mania. Everyone is rushing around trying to make money instead of grieving. Yesterday I thought, if this keeps up, we WILL have a depression like 1929.
Don’t do it. Don’t buy stuff to avoid the stuff inside. Sit still twice a day, for at least five minutes, and just listen. Try to listen to the depths.
Bun gets cat hugs and I do too. Warm and purring.
Today is my father’s birthday. He died in 2013. I am missing him this morning. I would like a hug, even if it smelled of unfiltered Camel cigarettes. Hugs to all.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hug.
Today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt is chunk.
One of the family jokes leaps into my mind first: How much wood would a woodchunk chunk if a woodchunk could chunk wood?
I know, it’s just rong, rong, terrible rong, but wordplay was a part of life.

I put up the picture of my friends canoeing under simple pleasures.
Yet it isn’t that simple, right?
We have to get to the lake. My friends live in Virginia, I live in Washington State. I fly to Sault St Marie, US and they fly to Sault St Marie, Canada. I take a taxi across the border and meet them with their rental car. We drive to the Lake, after stopping for supplies. The motor boat is ready for us. There is no road to the cabin, we go by boat.
The canoe is a Penn Yan that belongs to my family. I don’t know how old it is. It is treasured and cared for carefully.
The family needs life jackets, paddles and instructions on getting in and out of the canoe. One friend is a very experienced kayaker, so he doesn’t need help. The other two are less experienced. Sun hats are found and put on.
We are not going that far. I will be in a second canoe, a very tippy small one. We have lunch with us and water.
Not so simple after all, but definitely pleasurable.
https://woodencanoemuseum.org/builder-history/penn-yan-boat-company
Photo credit to Dr. W. Strang, with my camera. That is me in front of an truly amazing quartz crystal from Arkansas in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum.
I was back in the DC area with my daughter, visiting my son and future daughter in law. Hopefully after this year I won’t say future any more. This is round three after two postponements due to Covid-19.
Dr. Strang and I wanted to go to the Smithsonian but we got snowed in. The Smithsonian was closed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. We went on Thursday. We got to the Museum of African American History and it was CLOSED. They were opening late, at one pm. It was 10:30.
We promptly diverted to the National Gallery, which opened at 11:00. We spent a good 3-4 hours there. We went back to Natural History. I worked in the shop there years ago and wanted to buy a rock. I was underwhelmed by the rocks available currently. More expensive and a lot less of them. On the other hand, I suppose there are only so many rocks.
What about fear? I chose fear for the Ragtag Daily Prompt today. I was not terribly afraid at the Smithsonian, but I was careful. After my fourth bad pneumonia last year, this time on oxygen for months, I did not want to get Covid-19. We have used fear before, but I think some words can be reused.
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in front of the garden gate - JezzieG
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