Great kick-off.

Not as I planned for a year or more, but awesome just the same.

I got home Wednesday (after two days of driving) and yesterday (Thursday) morning had some minor foot surgery.  I'm supposed to take it easy on the foot for a couple of days, which isn't easy since apparently my car sneezed into my house Wednesday night.  Usually I leave my house clean and ready to relax back into when I go on vacation, but there was so much going on in the weeks before this one that I left the house in less than pristine livable condition this time.

So much going on as I ended a career, saw a son marry the woman of his dreams, underwent a weird process to help me embrace a healthier lifestyle, and prepped for what was supposed to be three weeks of solitude and self-sanctuary and instead developed into something else.

I get ahead of myself.

In linear fashion from the earliest to most recent.   Sort of.  Because it was all happening at the same time:

The Wedding.

My younger son is thirty-five.  He's an amazing guy.  Unfailing kindness and movie star handsome.  Talented musician, loyal friend, and an organizational genius (he gets that from me).   A well-loved friend.  A Burner.  With two green thumbs, he managed to get veggies to grow in ground that I can't get anything to survive in. (Maybe because I only have one green thumb.)  He's had a succession of high value girlfriends - including some very serious loves - over his young adult years, several of whom he met online.  Which is where he met the one that - during this exciting spring - he announced he was going to marry.

In three months.

They are perfect together.  I've never seen two people so happy with each other.  His bride is also a musician - a singer - and  they are currently making their way through a year-long music festival of their own design (instead of doing Coachella).  Stevie Wonder. Billy Joel. Garth Brooks. Queen.  More that I can't remember.   She has a personal connection to Elton John, and my son was going to give her The Ring at his concert until Elton John became ill and cancelled.

Anyway, they are wonderful together.  And I was thrilled to hear that they would marry.  But July 9 was the chosen date, which made created some hurry-up project timelines.

June 9 was the bridal shower (The Bride said she didn't want any, but I'm happy to say that her mom talked her into it.)  I volunteered to do the food.

The Bride's friends did a delightful decoration job, indoors and out.

Grandma looking radiant in her toilet paper bridal gown.

Kept it simple.  Pulled pork in the crockpot on Hawaiian rolls as sliders.

Two different salads. Was surprised that the least healthy version was the most popular.

Fruit salad and homemade strawberry shortcake (used an Amish shortcake recipe) that was very popular.

I was honored when The Groom asked me to make him a wedding vest.  Out of, it turned out, drapery fabric that he found online.  It was a complex pattern with a difficult fabric and ate up more hours that I really had to spend.  But it was worth it to watch him refuse to take it off until several hours of 100+ temps had passed on the big day.

 

I was impressed.  The Bride had this lapel pin made for The Groom.  I was pretty  sure the choice of fabric was to include his dad in the ceremony (color-blind in two spectra, my late husband only enjoyed the color yellow).  The lapel pin was the perfect way to make sure he was included.

 

It was the most perfect wedding I've ever attended.  And it wasn't just me.  No wedding planner, just the bride and her mom and a couple dozen people who loved the couple helping to set up to make it special.  Bar, buffet, live band, a zillion flowers (that the bride picked up in Los Angeles the day before) arranged by a family friend that morning.  They even set up lawn games.  Eat when you want, drink when you want, dance, play and hugs all around.

My son's best friend officiated.  Just before the bride was due, the sound system went out.  Verdict:  the venue had slid closed the big glass doors and cut through the extension cord to the  speaker.

Are all grooms so excited to get married?  I doubt it.  Halfway through the reception, he came to our table, slapped his had down and announced, "I'm married!"  Yesterday he came home for a few minutes and I asked how he was doing (hadn't seen him for three weeks).  He mentioned having an issue at work, then - glowing - announced "Even when I'm sad, I'm happy!"  I've seen the other times as he has grown up.  It's a thrill to see so much joy for him now.

The Retirement.

I made the decision in the 2015-2016 school year that I would retire at the end of the 2016-2017 (the next) year.  As always, the super majority of my 160 students were wonderful young adults who reassure me that my future will be fine in their hands.  However, there was a higher-than-average number of challengers, and so I had no hesitation to embrace it as my last year.

It was a busy - and rewarding - time.  I gradually reduced the amount of Old Stuff (I was teaching the same curriculum in the same classroom for 23 years - unheard of in middle school education) and in the process gave last rights to probably a half dozen trees as I cleared files.  Fortunately, I knew I was being replaced by one of my young teacher friends who was going to take over not only the classroom, but the teaching assignment.  I lectured him that I would in no way ever presume to tell him how to teach by imposing my materials on him.  However, I would have loved it in my first few years if my predecessor had left me a few teaching materials for those time when, as a new teacher, I would get overwhelmed.  Ultimately, he said that he would just trust my judgment to leave what might be useful.  It made it a lot easier to leave behind what I considered my best stuff, including a year's worth of lessons arranged by quarter in big white binders.

The project that I am most proud of, as I reflect back on my career, is the family history project.  Here they are, displayed at the last Open House of my last year as they have been every year for the last twenty-five.  There is a lot in it, but the key pieces are the biographies written by the students based on interviews with their three oldest relatives.  Over the twenty-five years my students have documented nearly 12,000 stories that would not otherwise have been recorded.  Yeah... I'm proud of that and proud of the students for doing them.  And they are proud of themselves, especially when they see the finished products laminated and bound.  I've lost count of the number of students and parents who have come back over the years and thanked me for having them do that assignment.  Not that they loved it at the time, but as they start their own families or lose their loved ones, the experience takes on new meaning for them.

Once Open House was over, the feting began.  There were two teachers, on instructional aide and one front office team member who retired this June.

I still work on dealing with some heavy-duty rejection issues going all the way back to before I can remember.  I have a hard time accepting that people actually do like - even love - me.  So it was pretty overwhelming to experience such an outpouring.



The first was the annual union retirement dinner.   My younger son came to the dinner with me, even though he was swamped by his wedding preparations.  I really appreciated that.  I used to be the person who organized these dinners,  and I know that usually the retiree and one other person get their dinner free, and they invite others who pay a nominal price for a nice dinner at one of the community rooms attached to a golf course near the ocean.  In my experience, each retiree would have one or two colleagues join their party.  So I was overwhelmed when close to a dozen of my colleagues came to the dinner in my honor.  I was fine, having a great time, when my name was called to say a few words about my time as a teacher in this community.  As I started to walk up, though, my colleagues - my friends - started to sing.

For several years, on picture day, the photographer who would be taking student portraits for a day in the fall would set up risers in the front of the school for the faculty picture.  It took a few minutes for everyone to arrive, but when most of us were there, someone would give a downbeat to the impromptu choir gathered on the risers.  We would serenade the entering students by looping "You are My Sunshine."  And that's what they were singing.  To me.

Yeah, I lost it.  And then was immediately supported with hugs and pats and words of encouragement until I could pull it together.

A week went by, and then the celebration picked up again.  For a number of years, my colleagues and I indulged ourselves in what was called Friday Munchies.  The campus was divided into teams, and each team brought in nutrition snacks to share.  Usually we all brought enough to feed all the staff (about 75 people)  at nutrition and lunch.  Unbeknownst to the retirees (how did they pull that off?), in that last week of school they had planned and prepped The Day of Celebration. No teams this time.  The entire staff (minus us four) brought in food.  It covered every counter, and we ate. all. day.

It was an Under the Sea theme, as interpreted by one of the instructional aides who is a genius at balloon art.

But I have to admit, thrilled as I was by all the excitement, the event that touched me the most was the lunch by The Boys.  The Boys are the handful of young, male teachers with whom I've spend lunch in the teacher's lounge for the last decade or more.  In their thirties and forties, two with young families (one had a newborn at home), they secretly organized a farewell Mexican lunch for me in that last week.  Sounds easy, but one of them had to use part of a day off - with toddler in tow - to go across town and pick up the food.  When I expressed how touched I was, their response was an incredulous, "Well, of course."  Like I said, issues.  Still gets me all teary that they would do that for me.

And then, in a whoosh, it was the last day.  Or, half day.  I spent it sitting in my clean classroom, waiting to turn in my keys.  Friends came by.  The principal came by for a while.  I consider myself very lucky to have finished my career with this man as my principal.  We got along just fine.

 

I didn't cry when I turned in my keys.  It was the right move at the right time.  But it was surreal to walk out to my car, on the outside of the fence, for that last time.  Oh, it won't be the LAST time.  I'm eligible to go back as a substitute in January, and the little bit I could make as a sub is still enough for plane tickets to travel.  And I still have an older son and his family in Tokyo.  But it's a different part of the team.  The bench players rather than the first string.

Retirement wasn't official until all the paperwork was done and in, including the insurance stuff.  Which seems to all be in and fine.  I'm getting my own pension plus 75% of my husband's, so feel comfortable financially.

The Other Stuff.

No topping a wedding and a retirement, but I did do other stuff in there, too.

The day after that last day, I left for Fresno to spend the weekend with friends.  She works at a dinner theater called Roger Rocka's and it is a blast.  They were doing Damn Yankees and for community theater, they did a first rate job.  As a personal perk, I found a colony of swallowtails in the sage near the restrooms at the rest stop.

I continue to raise Monarchs and Frittilaries and the little blues that feed on the violets, but with all the other commitments, my garden got away from me this year and the milkweed is infested with aphids.  The Monarchs don't lay where there are too many aphids, so I may not get many this year.  Good news is that August is the second wave and if I can clean off some plants soon, there may still be time to run some eggs through before I leave for Massachusetts.

Released just before I left for Utah.

My garden continues to be where I experience "flow."  Particularly happy with the water features this year.

Water lily "Georgia Peach" has put on several flowers this year.

Very excited and - yeah - proud to have a blooming LOTUS this year.  "Beautiful Dancer" put up this bud which bloomed open just before I left on vacation.  From Lilyblooms aquatic nursery.  Can't say enough good about these folks.

My first success with lotus.  Apparently we wait weeks for the bud to open, then it lasts a day or two.  I'm sure there's a Zen lesson in there for us, but I don't care to figure it out at the moment.

A new addition this year from my local pond store.  Labeled only "Japanese Lily".  Seems to be pretty happy.

And turned out to be yellow.

 Disneyland:

Did manage to  work in a couple of visits, one with my Mom and one by myself.

The one by myself was to get a couple of Jarrod Maruyama prints signed.

 

 

The signing wasn't until six that evening, so I got to the Park early and just hung around.  I had breakfast at the Rancho del Zocalo and was treated like a Disney Princess...

...by the Disneyland sparrows.

From the chair back...

...to the table...

...to the edge of the tray...

...to finally helping himself to some of my scrambled eggs.

He and his brother were pretty cheeky about helping themselves to my breakfast.  Their dowdy sister made it only as far as the table, them chickened out (yeah, bad pun, I know).

The second trip went from somewhat disappointing to happily memorable thanks to one castmember and his friends.  Again.

Mom and I went to the Coke Corner to try to catch a set of Musical Chairs featuring the Mad Hatter, and were saddened to see there wasn't even a piano player that day.  She seemed so sad that I looked him up on the Disneyland app and found he was due at the Mad Tea Party in just a few minutes.  We trekked out there and got a place within a little alcove under a shady tree.  Within a couple of minutes he strolled by and glanced our way, saw my Mom and made her day with his customary shout of "Hi, Lady!"  He came in and visited with her for several minutes, then noticed several "friends" were arriving.  White Rabbit, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum and her Highness, the Queen of Hearts.  Before we could blink, he raced away and brought them to meet her.  A parade through the little alcove, with each character taking her hand to greet her.  Her Highness came back later in the set.

The rest of the summer so far was spent rigging some watering systems so that I could leave for a few weeks.  I went to Utah.  Turned in my Medicare B paperwork on August 1 and headed to Eden for three weeks of planned solitude.

But that turns out to be another story for another time.

Excited

Wanted to stop and brag.  On my way out of the house to see my younger son get married.  I no longer have a "little boy."  He is creating his own family.  Happy to say,  I'm crazy about her AND her family. 

This is a magical pair.

Lasts.

Today I graded my last set of assignments.

160 of them.

Or, actually, I finished the four sets that I've been working on for a few days.  But that last class felt special.  Like, this is for reals.

I don't have to do that ever again.  It was truly the WORST part of teaching, grading papers.  Not that I minded reading some of them.  Sometimes.  But who am I to judge where a kid is in their life, what drama they are enduring at the moment they created what was on that piece of paper, what trauma they escape just to come into my classroom and have me tell them they are a failure when all they really want - all they really need - at this moment on this day in this school year - is a safe place to rest for a while?

I hated it, and I never have to do it again.  I won't miss it.

There are four people - two teachers - retiring from my school.  A total of four teachers in the district. Tomorrow I will be among three recognized at the union retirement party.  The fourth teacher retiree is the other teacher from my school, but declines to participate in the dinner.  We have had a lot of gloating fun for the last few weeks, however.

We have a secret sign.

"I don't care, I don't care..."

We sit through meetings.  The bandwith isn't strong enough to support the number of computers on campus and must be fixed for next year.  I look over at my colleague and we both start doing the "I don't care" hand flip.  New textbook adoptions.  Handflip.  New frameworks.  Handflip.  Homework policy.  Handflip.  Upcoming students with challenges.  Handflip.

There is a lot to not care about.

I'm supposed to give a little speech tomorrow.  What I won't miss, what I will.

What I won't miss?

Cavalry parents.

Call slips from the office.

The stock phrase when teachers want to pull their students out of my class.  "They know they have to make up the assignment."  Gawd, I hate that phrase almost as much as the practice.  Because, yes, I do think what I'm doing in my class has value, as much as what the other teachers are doing.

Fortunately, the list of what I will miss is much longer.  Big things, like the colleagues who have been crewmates in this lifeboat I've been in for half my adult life.  Little things like the glorious view of the mountains between me and the ocean as I pull into the parking lot.

But as I tried to figure out what I will say during my little segment of the program tomorrow, I decided it best to focus on just three things from that list that represent the one big thing I will miss most about being a teacher.

I will share about the girl who was tested and qualified as retarded but placed in my regular ed history class anyway because her parents didn't want her to be away from her friends.  She was so disabled that we (her special ed resource teacher and I) created special tests for her.  Five multiple choice questions instead of twenty-five (and no essays) with only one correct answer and one distractor and the correct answer highlighted.  She still failed them.  Nevertheless, in age-old eighth grade tradition, all of my students are required to recite the Preamble to the Constitution from memory, and this girl had the same assignment as the others.  Memorize it, stand at your seat when called, and recite.  For a grade.  Mom called and begged me not to make her daughter do this in front of the class.  "She can do it during lunch."  Um, no.  The speech pathologist came to me and begged me to let her do it during the nutrition break.  Um, no.  These parents insisted on her being in the regular ed class; she would do what the regular ed students do.  As I recall, even the principal questioned whether making her do it with the rest of the class was the best decision.  The big day came, and she stood when called and recited the Preamble.  Perfectly.  The class applauded her as they had everyone else, but she was the only student who floated out of the classroom.  Mom called me the next day and apologized for pressuring me.  "She has never been like this before."

Just this year, another student, this one with a serious speech issue faltered his way through the Preamble.  When it was time for the three-minute Genius Hour presentation, there we were again.  "Doing it during a break is a perfectly acceptable accommodation."  Um.  No.  And again, he got up in front of the class with his brilliantly assembled slide presentation and used his hard-practiced speaking skills to do his three-minute presentation.  Not perfectly and I'm sure was the only person in the class with teary eyes watching him use his coping skills when the stutter threatened, but he stopped and he breathed and he focused and he got through it.  And I got the thrill of yet again watching a student grow exponentially in self-confidence and self-pride.

None compare, however, to my experience of three years ago.  I've written of it here before.  His mom still gives me giant hugs whenever she sees me.  I had a student with cerebral palsy.  Movie star handsome with a killer smile and a wicked sense of humor, he walked (or, more honestly, dragged himself around) with crutches and had serious speaking  challenges.  When it was his time for the 3-minute presentation, I gave him a choice.  In class or break?  At your seat or in front of the class?  I was pretty sure what he'd choose but I gave him a few days and finally he told me, "In front of the class."  I scheduled him for fifteen minutes at the end of class, knowing that he might have some computer issues because of the CP.  Ultimately, because of those issues coupled with computer slowness issues, his presentation took thirty minutes.  On pizza reward lunch day.  Five minutes into the lunch period, I stopped the presentation and offered to the class that they could leave and go get their pizza.

Not one student moved.  They just looked blankly at me like, "Are you nuts?"

I quickly sent the aide to the pizza line to tell them what was going on while the speaker valiantly continued his presentation.  A total of thirty minutes, fifteen minutes of their lunch time.  On pizza award day.  The entire class stayed to the end, then applauded and left with smiles and high fives and "Awesome job!"

The last students were heading out the door when I lost it.  On my way out I was greeted by a wide-eyed, teary principal coming in who said only, "Oh, my God!"

That's what I will miss the most.  Watching students who are given a chance to do something the world is telling them they cannot, do what seems impossible.  Having the privilege of watching their spines straighten, their faces light up and their feet lift off the floor.

As I've packed my classroom, I've run across a thin file labeled "Inspiration."  In it is an end-of-the year thank-you note from yet another special needs student.  She wrote, "For the first time, in your class I felt like I could do what the other kids do."

So, I guess most of all, I will miss kicking kids' butts into what the world tells them they cannot do.  And absorbing the joy when they sparkle with the knowledge that they can.

Celine Dion - How Does A Moment Last Forever (live in Las Vegas)

The new music for this movie really resonated with me.  I loved the new songs.

Lasts

... and firsts.

Tonight was my last Open House.

These things always make me nervous.  I have just enough "issues" in a school year to nurse a little bit of dread before an open house.  But, I'm happy to say there was not a hiccup.  In fact, it was a lovely reminder of why I should be a little bit sad to be retiring.  Ex-students from years past who won't be able to drop in and say hello.  A little sister that made the sign of a tear track when she learned she would not have me for a teacher as her two older brother had.  And parent after parent sharing how much their child had loved my class and how much the family had learned because their student brought home and shared what they had learned.  (The "Wizard of Oz" lecture is always popular.  "Mind blown.")

Tonight was particularly gratifying because there was a record number of parents wanting to thank me for assigning the family history project.  As part of the project, each student has to interview three relatives, then write their biographies to be bound into a magazine.  (That's some of them on the wall tonight.)  The parents wanted to tell me how much it meant to their parents or grandparents to actually have a child ask them questions and learn their stories.  I couldn't receive a nicer compliment.  As  I reach the end of this career, I calculate that my students have documented nearly 12,000 stories that would not have otherwise been recorded.  It's the achievement of which I am most proud as a history teacher.

I really hope my replacement continues the tradition.

I had SUCH a nice weekend, this past.

I decided to go to Disneyland for some special shopping.

Dang, it was packed!

First time I've ever waited an hour just to get to the kiosk in the Mickey and Friends parking structure.  The line was all the way onto the freeway, and I believe I was one of the last couple of hundred cars allowed to park in the structure.  It was full - I was in the next to the last row on the top level with the others full - before 9:00 am.  I heard that they had to start turning people away in the afternoon because they had reached capacity.  I left early so wasn't there when it happened, but the crowd I did experience in the early hours is enough evidence that it was a remarkably full day.

Still, I rarely ride anything anymore, and didn't have any problems doing what I wanted to do.

I started with a nice bacon and eggs (and biscuit, no potatoes) breakfast at the Rancho del Zocalo, then a few songs by the Silver Dollar Six over the entrance to the Golden Horseshoe.   I had stopped at World of Disney for the new Sleeping Beauty Tsum Tsums, but they didn't have them so trekked out to ToonTown to see if they had them.  Nope.   I had promised some friends to send a picture of the new light saber churros in Tomorrowland, so I detoured through Tomorrowland on my way back to Main Street.

While there I slipped into the Little Green Men pin shop for some special purchases, then headed over to Coke Corner.  Met a new friend in the bushes behind me...

...while an old friend entertained on the ragtime piano.

After a couple of sets (appreciated hearing some special favorites), I headed over to the Disneyana shop to check on my cell set purchase.  It was not really time for it to be done, but they had said they would call to tell me when it was ready and I had realized a few weeks ago that I had no idea what their number would be.  Since my husband died I no longer respond to strange numbers on my phone, so I thought I should find out what number I should keep an eye out for.

Turned out, the cast member I was talking to was the one who kept track of the comings and goings of these special orders.  She asked my name, then disappeared into the back room.  She came out to confirm the name I'd ordered under, then disappeared again, re-appearing with my purchase!

This picture isn't anywhere close to showing how gorgeous this cell is.

Perfect timing.  It had come in during that week, so I could take it home at this most convenient time.

I left the park, then took a walk up to Wonderground, where I didn't find anything to tempt me (for a change) before doing some shopping at the Acorn gift shop in the Grand Californian Hotel.  I was able to complete my collection of Arts-and-Crafts styled tiles that I hope to use in a kitchen remodel.  Someday.  I was a little disappointed that the piano player I had heard there a few weeks ago wasn't playing again, but I figured I already got lucky once that day so I shouldn't be piano greedy.

Now loaded with purchases, I went to Storytellers Cafe to re-hydrate and have a terrific Cobb Salad for lunch.  Got to interact with the BEST Pluto ever.

While I waited for lunch, I looked up the nearest Disney Store to try to find the Sleeping Beauty tsums.  Turned out there was one just a few minutes drive down the 5.  I caught a limo-tram (happens all the time that I load onto the tram from the wheelchair ramp - I was using my walker that trip - and they end up taking just me to the parking lot) and in a very short time was in a comfortable mall in Santa Ana.  I was thrilled to find the little toys I wanted just two doors down from See's.  Irresistible.

All of this was just time killing before my real reason for being in Orange County.

A few weeks ago someone posted a video of a male hula dancer on facebook.  I was impressed, not only with the dancer but with the off-screen singer.  Turned out the singer was the amazing (and famous) Hawaiian artist, Robert Cazimero.  I shared the video, and an old friend asked in comments if I had ever seen a Cazimero live performance.  I had followed the Brothers Cazimero on facebook for a few years but no, had never seen them live.  My friend then informed me that Robert Cazimero would be performing in Whittier in May, so I hopped over to the website and got myself a ticket.  I managed to get to the theater relaxed and ready for an evening of hula.

This was one of the best musical experiences of my life.  The little theater was intimate and the production beautifully crafted in every way.  I'd heard of the "spirit of Aloha," but have never experienced it before.  Aloha energy filled the theater.

And Cazimero!  What a voice!   What a piano!  He was getting over a virus and noted he was not in top form (really?) but even in not top form, his singing was stunning.  It was a full program of beautiful music and gorgeous hula dancing with a thread of unexpected humor through the evening.  I was lucky enough to buy a copy of his latest album before the concert (ten bucks, such a deal), and then got it signed afterward.


 
 (I might be just a little bit in love with this man for a while.)

It was a long, late drive home, but I had no problems staying awake with that fabulous baritone teaching me new songs to sing.  In Hawaiian.

The next morning was a slow start but I managed to get a few chores done before heading to the garden.  I'm working slowly at getting the vegetable garden whipped into shape, and Sunday's chore was adding a new composting device.  As is most of the garden space (which takes up about half the back yard), the space where I wanted the composter was full of weeds and covered with leaves, so I spent over an hour cleaning.  Eventually I had to engage in some jiu jitsu with that weed in front of the planter, but thought I was victorious in the end...

 ... and the composter landed in its new home.

As I wrapped up my couple of hours, I decided to water my little container garden and something zoomed past me to land in the rosemary.  I thought it was a hummingbird, it was so big, but was shocked to see the biggest grasshopper I've ever seen.  Anywhere.  And my uncle was a Kansas farmer.  They have grasshoppers there.  But mine wins.

I don't use pesticides and in general have a "let nature do its thing" philosophy.  I admit to inviting the mockingbirds to make a lunch out of this guy.

I ended my weekend on a slower note that I began it.  Remember my claim of victory over the weed?  I was somewhat premature in declaring the win.  Sometime during the match my sneaky opponent managed to injure my knee.  According to the MRI, my left knee has six things wrong with it, one of which can be helped with surgery.  And that's my good knee.  My bad knee is now practically un-use-able.

Ouch

I did not need this, now.  Fifteen work days left and a classroom to clear out of by the 16th of June.

Wish me luck.  Me and my best friend, ibuprofen.

Happy Mother's Day

Mine is the best.

Found

It doesn't make practical sense, but when I get overwhelmed with the things I cannot control, I often find myself making a big mess - usually re-organizing storage - that I can control.  This morning I realized that I was digging into a box (which usually has stuff stacked on it) for something I wanted several times a week when the drawers the box sits on sat full of stuff I never needed.  So this morning I dumped all the contents of the drawers and the box (which usually has stuff stacked on it) onto the bed and spent a calming hour re-arranging so that the rarely stuff will sit in the box (which usually has stuff stacked on it).

While I was messin' with the mess I ran across a stray page from a writing group I belonged to for a while.  I guess I needed to re-read this now.

I decided to store it here.
December 12, 2012

What Was Left Behind

Half of the flour from
the cookie recipe

A tune that meant something

An invitation floating
to be acted on or forgotten?

Rows of baby plants not yet checked for survival
Seedlings and bulbs hibernating in the garage
Stratification run amok

Regrets not left
carried along though the years
like pocket lint
in a Goodwill sweater

Sometimes they just come out that way.

8:55 am