Month: April 2025

I had a little excitement, one evening some weeks ago. But, to tell this tale, I need to start at the beginning. Several years ago, my neighbor Keith “badgered” me until I paid for a wearable emergency unit – you know … just in case.

I remember putting it off for some time and, then, succumbed to his insistence. The first unit that I had was one among three. One to wear on a pendant; for a while, I wore it pinned to my trousers. One for the bathroom affixed to a vertical surface out of the way of water. And, the third to wear when leaving the house because it had a GPS in it.

Today is Friday, March 21, 2025. We’ve taken this walk before, a walk with me through my day, and I wanted to walk with you, again, today. I was busily working my way through my day’s list and thought, what if I ask y’all to come with me. Truth be told, this will not be every single thing that I’ve done during this day.  So, let’s actually begin this day early yesterday and by late last night and early this morning things were worse. It isn’t a wonderful beginning.

Yesterday morning after eating my cereal, banana, and milk for breakfast, I took my morning meds. I very shortly began to feel less than well, but by noon, I was okay. The day progressed toward midnight and thinking I would stop working and go to bed, I actually fell asleep. At 1:38 am, exactly, I woke and lost anything that was still in my stomach. Not a pretty sight. After that, I finally got to bed and sleep.

About 8 am, I rose as usual – feeling well – and my day really began. Breakfast. Shower, brush teeth – you know – all of those things you do in the bathroom in the morning. Then, my day began for real.

First, start the laundry. There would be four loads, today. Every forty-five minutes is the schedule to load the washer, transfer the laundry to the dryer, remove the laundry from the dryer, start the next load, and carry the fresh laundry upstairs to be put away in the closets and drawers. Start the next load. Every forty-five minutes.

Sandwiched between those loads, the dishwasher needed to be cleared and reloaded, kitchen counters cleaned, and floor swept.

Katie has been staying with me for a while during the time her parents are skiing. Although we get up for the “last time” at eight, she always gets up at six am, goes out for a bit, and then gets back into her crate because I want to go back to sleep until eight. She eats her breakfast about the same time that I eat mine; of course, water is available to her at all times. She has a water bowl in the kitchen, as well as a water bowl in the tiny bathroom that is just off of my bedroom. It is very interesting to me that Katie will walk past the water bowl in the kitchen to go into the bathroom and drink out of the water bowl that is there. It’s the same water, but she empties that bowl, leaving the one in the kitchen filled.

During the day, we will go into the big back yard and play with the herding balls. She herds the big, indestructible ball four times and is ready to come back into the house. After playing ball, she is ready for a nap.

About mid-morning, it is time for me to start working on the computer. First, there is e-mail be read, answered, printed, deleted, filed away. And, then, it’s on to the writing. If my computer is behaving), I can just keep working on it. If not (or I’ve done something wrong – which is a common occurrence for me), I call Roger, my computer guru who always dials in and rescues me.

I have a meeting with my writing coach on next Tuesday. We will review my picture book that we’ve been working on to get it sent to a publisher, as well as the query letter that goes with it. You know, every submission needs a query letter created with the hope that it, along with the story, will convince the publisher’s editor to want it. Revise the story. Revise the letter. Be prepared. As soon as that story is sent to a publisher, I’ll immediately begin the work on another one of my many stories, so we’ll have to decide on which gets the next work.

My cell phone calendar rings with a notification that I have a late-morning, zoom meeting with the CSPERA (Colorado School and Public Employee Retiree Association) Board. I’ve been asked to be the parliamentarian for that board and will attend their meetings from now on. My sister keeps telling me that I need to learn to say, “No.” How do you tell someone “no” who needs your help?

At the end of the meeting, lunch was in order. A friend had called during the morning asking about lunch. Picking me up, we went to a local restaurant where we knew we would be served quickly; we both had many things scheduled for the afternoon.

The laundry was still being attacked during the afternoon. I figured I’d probably be done by about three with all of the interruptions that I had during the morning. About three in the afternoon, I always seem to really “wake up” and find that I can begin more writing and computer work. More e-mail has arrived leading to more reading, printing, responding, deleting, and filing away.

The work on the picture book continues. A blog may get started or, even, finished. Katie goes outside, again, and chooses to stay out for a while in the spring warmth. It is the time of month to write the April poem for the Denver Gem and Mineral Guild’s newsletter, Tips & Chips, to be published next week. I e-mail Beth, my editor, to learn what she wants me to write. She tells me something about rocks so I write the one I’ve included below:

Bring Me A Rock*
I stand in the room
with all of my rocks.
There used to be more
but now there are not a lot.

Downsizing is a constant
thing for persons who are
getting old. So, out the door
go those extra things we

think we can get rid of.
Four sets of dishes – I don’t
need them. Towels –
twenty-five are too many.

Quilts in every color and
design – I only need two
for my bed. Vacuum cleaners
– a carpet cleaner and a
hand-held are enough.

Out the door, the stuff goes,
each day, never to return.
And, rocks. How many friends
have so many rocks that their

houses feel, well – overstocked.
Choose those rocks that will go.
Mostly, the big stuff.  Chunk of
Amazonite. Sandstone from the

San Rafael Swell. No,
maybe, that one will
stay on the hearth. It’s
hard to choose. Travel

is no longer possible
for me. No exploring
for more big specimens.
But, I will still bring more

rocks into my house. Only
two inches big. When you
travel to those exotic places,
please bring me a rock! It

will be welcomed into my
rock collection of amethyst.

The last load of washing is complete, upstairs and in place. Kate gets to go out, again. Things keep moving toward midnight. Eventually my brain starts to want other things besides computers, supper, meds for Katie and me. Ten is Kate’s bedtime, so she goes to bed in her crate. I have two hours to wind down before bedtime. It’s like having a child who goes to sleep, and you have a few minutes to catch up. I stop working on the computer, start the dishwasher, find my pajamas, check e-mail one last time and let the computer go to sleep, and hope I don’t remember something that is urgent and has to be taken care of before hitting the hay. I make the rounds of the outside doors, making sure they are indeed locked; I’m always surprised when this inspection shows that I forgot to lock the door the last time it was opened and closed.

Around midnight, I’m in bed, CPAP and two liters of oxygen in place and on my way to REM sleep. When I dream, it is always in technicolor and very often they have dirt roads in them. I know that in six hours, Kate will want attention, and the list that I made earlier in the evening will direct my day.
And, with that, goodnight!

Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.
*Published in Tips and Chips, April 2025, Denver Gem and Mineral Guild

As I was posting an e-mail, last night, I realized that I was scared! Afraid! Terrified! I tried to figure out why. After all, it was only a poem. A revised poem, at that. You may know that I write. This blog. Stories for children. Minutes for meetings that I attend. And, poetry. So, that makes me a poet. What, I wondered, was making me so frightened of sending that poem out into the world?

It started back several years, some time within the past seven years. I don’t remember the exact date. My favorite poet lives in the middle of the country. Nebraska, to be exact. So, does my journalist friend Mary Jane. She lives in Kearney, Nebraska, and works at the HUB. As I remember, my favorite poet was having a book launch in my second-favorite book store located close to where she works and close to where “my” poet lives and works. So, I wrote to the poet asking if the three of us could go to lunch. “Yes,” was the answer.

This poet has twice been the poet laureate for the United States, as well as a Pulitzer Prize winner. To say that excitement was in the air as we approached the appointed time would be a vast understatement. We talked through lunch. Learned some about each other and, then, went to the poet’s studio where painting, in addition to writing poetry, is also a pursuit. A long wall of shelves held books.

Coming down from that “high” took most of the way driving back to my home in Colorado. Since then, my poetry book collection has added every volume of the poet’s work. Among the books of poetry are books for children and how-to books written for wannabe poets. The shelves also hold Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, and other poets, as well.

“My” poet retired from teaching at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, which meant that I would never be able to take one of those classes. In the meanwhile, I got to know the owner of Chapter Books; Carla is a good friend of “my” poet. I asked her if she thought I might become a private student, since I was never able to take a class in Lincoln – one of the biggest disappointments of my old life. Carla replied that “The worst that can happen would be a ‘no’ answer.” I reminded her that someone can only say “yes” if you ask.

She forwarded my request. The response came back that a full-time private student might be too much, but one poem a month would be reasonable. I was directed to send what I considered my best poem. And, so, the work began. I sent a poem in January. Got a response. Revised the poem. Sent it as my February poem. Got a response and revised it again. For March, I sent my favorite poem. And, again very quickly, received a response. This month, I thought a poem a month? Maybe, that would mean more than one discussion about the month’s poem. After the first revision, I sent it along. And, again, received a very quick response. So, Once more, I revised that poem.

Last night, about midnight, I was ready to send the second revision. It’s hard to put my feelings into words at that moment. I was afraid. Terrified, actually. What if I hadn’t paid enough attention. What if it was all wrong. What if … what if … what if … I felt clammy. I felt unsure. I felt like a high school kid turning in a research paper. And, that is something I have not felt for a long, long, time.

I should have realized that the critique would be gentle, yet exact. Rather than saying – do this – the comment is “if this were my poem, I would say ….” Daughter #3 and her husband who also read the poem before it was sent cautioned me to remember that, I am in a learning situation. I don’t know everything. That’s why I’ve asked for help. (And, wouldn’t you think that as an educator, I would know that?) I do have to say that with all of this, when I realize that a poet laureate and a Pulitzer Prize winner is reading my work and helping me to become a better poet, it actually makes me cry. I am so thankful and appreciative.

So, the question is: When was the last time you felt like a high school kid standing in front of a teacher with your assignment in your hand? For me, it was last night at 10:50 pm.

Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.

 

On a regularly irregular basis, I receive a communication from Xcel telling me how my energy usage compares to that of my “neighbors.” I know not who those “neighbors” are. Neither do I know that they really are my neighbors. I only have the information in the communication, which is suspect.

This communication indicates my natural gas usage is “Great.” But, as for electricity, it’s only “Fair.” It’s time to write to the Xcel to let the CEO know what I really think about this communication. So, here goes.