Tag Archives: break

Hello Hello Again

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Holy Cow.  What the heck happened to the first week of May?  My page-a-day calendar is stuck on Tuesday.   One more work day and then I’m off into the wild blue yonder, ready or not.  Feels like I’ve been packing for weeks, but there’s a real science to ‘packing light’.  I wish I knew what that means and how to do it.

My silly ducks have been landing in the backyard every day since I first saw them, once early in the morning and once or twice late in the afternoon.  Sometimes they perch on the garage roof until they’ve checked things out, then they swoop down and clean up the spilled bird seed.  And then off they go until the next time.  Sometimes they’re joined by a squirrel, a crow and a magpie.  None of these creatures was what I expected to attract when I hung up my bird feeders, but this little mini zoo is what I got.

The lawn people have done our spring clean up, and tomorrow we’re supposed to get the shingles replaced on the roof of the house and the garage.  I guess that’s cheaper than buying a new house once the roof starts to leak.  The shingles are supposed to last thirty years.  Weird to think the roof will likely outlive us both.

Also weird is a lady who told me today while I was adjusting her glasses that she must have the arms bowed out so that they don’t touch her temples on the way back to her ears, because every time the wind blows, her head swells.  I swear I couldn’t make shit like this up if I tried.  I just did what she wanted and didn’t ask questions.

There’s a few posts scheduled to appear between now and the 27th of May when I return, but this process also got weird for me.  Felt strangely like time travel.  Or tempting fate.  So I stopped.  Time for a blogging break anyway, going somewhere new and experiencing something different.  And thus having something new to talk about.  As long as no one expects an intelligent Greek history lesson, we’re good.

Catch you on the flip side. ♥

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A List of Beautiful Broken Things

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Found on Facebook. On somebody’s Facebook Page. Shared by other Facebook Pages. My news feed is too long and crazy to search for it again.

A shopping list (noun) is a list of items needed to be purchased by a shopper, a grocery list is the most popular type of shopping list– including items that need to be procured on the next visit to the grocery store.

Kintsukuroi is a Japanese noun meaning “to repair with gold”; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

Hard to believe the queen of lists missed the shopping list prompt for the promptless.  It certainly wasn’t for lack of lists floating around in my life.  Just maybe it was all those other things floating around with them that I’m too lazy to grab hold of and run with.

So, two prompts in one – Voila! – a list-y poem about breaks.  No, I can’t explain how I came up with that exactly.  But that’s the beauty of poetry – the inspiration for it rarely makes sense. And I’m going with the part of the prompt that said to make up my own.

I have plagiarized and hopefully improved upon my own work from a previous poem.  I won’t link to it, because it sucked even worse than this one.  But I’m having fun!  And that’s all that really matters, right?  Don’t be critical, you could break my heart.

broken vase
broken vase (Photo credit: Leonard John Matthews)

Things That Break

When dawn breaks,

Morning has broken.

Night falls, but it never breaks.

Give a guy a break and break it to him gently.

Then take a coffee break.

Go ahead and break a leg, break a horse,

Break the connection, break a code.

Break away and break bad habits.

But don’t step on a crack and break your mothers back.

Don’t break in and don’t break out.

Don’t break mirrors, don’t break your neck.

I’ve broken up, I’ve broken down.

Broken hearts, broken promises,

And the silences that must be broken

Before we break apart .

Break a record, break a rule,

But never break a spirit or anybody’s bones.

Precious things get broken.

When you add up all the shattered bits of china

What are the broken pieces worth?

It’s impossible to say.

Might as well try to break it down

For every sorry fragment

Of a broken dream.

Broken Dreams
Broken Dreams (Photo credit: jumpinjimmyjava)

Related links:

the matticus kingdom – and what a story it is

Mahabore’s Mumblings – A real hero

The D / A Dialogues – Broken

Deep Subjects

Wishing well at the castle of Zumelle, Belluno...
Wishing well at the castle of Zumelle, Belluno, Veneto, Italy. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well……

It appears I’ve taken an unplanned, unannounced and ridiculously long break.  Long for me, anyway, because of this blog-a-day thing with which I like to torture myself.

I have many teeth stories that even I’m sick of hearing, so I’ll just say I now have a mouthful of them thanks to a small permanent bridge filling up a space that’s been empty for years.  Yay for one less empty space in my head.  And only one more trip to the dentist, and then he can go off on an extended vacation once my bill is paid.

Yesterday was seniors day at Shoppers Drug Mart and the cashier didn’t even ask me for ID to prove I’m over 55.  Seriously.  Even though I’m well over that and have an honest face, she still could have made my day by doubting me.  Whatever, the discount was nice.  Getting to be ancient has it’s perks.

Not so perky is the hearing loss where I misunderstand people who mumble in a quiet and irritating manner, saying things like “seduced LSD is a sin” when they actually mean “reduced elasticity in the skin”.  Come on people, either speak up or I’ll have to go see an audiologist.

And speaking of ‘seeing’, yesterday I misread the question “What makes a great teacher?” as “What makes a goat tender?”  That was on my phone where the printing is small.  Could have happened to anyone, right? And means practically the same thing.  My life has become infinitesimally more interesting lately.  No wonder old people wander around looking dazed and confused.

At work I continue to be a geezer magnet.  Eighty year old men love me.  A ten minute glasses dispensing job turns into a half hour gab session as they tell me their life stories.  A delightful man told me all about his triple bypass surgery, and how he had to stay in the hospital an extra three days due to constipation.

Another explained how doctors removed four litres of fluid from his asbestos inflamed lungs, and now his feet swell up all the time.  I did not ask how those two facts are related.

Did you know that a box of ammunition for a 22 rifle used to cost twenty five cents, and that an 11 year old way back in the day picking off gophers could become a sharp shooter really fast? Neither did I.

Canada is the absolute best place in the world to live and in Texas you can shoot an intruder and then just call somebody to come pick up the body.  I could think of no reply to that double barrelled  bit of information, but I think perhaps one or both of those statements may not be entirely true.

Well, who knows.  Maybe I didn’t hear him right.   Because, you know, think about the winters here.

It’s been another beautiful fall day.  I went for a hair cut and didn’t cry.  W brought home Chinese take out.  I was able to chew stuff.

Life is good.