So today is Fat Tuesday, a day to be deliberate in everything I do. I'm going to listen to Chris Isaak all day and prepare a World Lit quiz. I love his song "Wrong to love you." Going to Fisher for the whole day long. and maybe the Cyber Cafe will have some delish soup offering today-- it's very cold here, but the snow has been minimal. Our heavy snow was end of December-beginning of January. I'm hooked on Isaak's voice-- fitting for Fat Tuesday.
In my childhood, Lent always began with a noble decision to give certain things up. The offering began in general terms, then as I slipped in fasting, I would modify what was being given up. Example: Candy, then everything but Clark Bars and cinnamon discs-- no,no, just gum, except Chiclets. It's no wonder I'm the way I am.
In my children's childhood, we would have the annual Margaret Mead Memorial Egg Hunt on the farm. It was a blast. My oldest friends and their children would come to the farm and bring
a stash of plastic eggs filled with candy and coins and some even had dollar bills.
The older kids would hide the eggs and the hunt would last a long time, because there are a lot of hiding places here. I used to love listening to the swap conversation on the living room rug. They would sprawl and talk about their loot, and make deals. We'd have a big picnic meal. Grilling was always interesting because Spring was around the corner, but still cold here. The Canada Geese would fly (still do) by the hundreds at the hour of dusk. It looks like the scene from the Wizard of Oz-- flight of the flying monkeys. I miss those days. Maybe I will recreate it with our new generation of children. . . .
I think I'm looking ahead, not sure if I will be successful giving things up this year, but I'll try. I would really enjoy giving up being responsible. Is that possible? I would love to be spontaneous
for forty days. What do think would happen?
I have attempted a poem a day in February and I'm a bit behind. I have 8 new poems and 3 sudden fictions. I really don't know how Blogville folks stay on track with their challenges-- Kudos to them. I get distracted by the work I've just written. I always go back, and revisit the lines, and tweak them a bit. I wrote one poem, which everyone gave thumbs up -- even my sister Karen, who is first to tell me something stinks. PU, she says. Karen has a great ear. And, you betcha, I listen to her.
It's starting to snow-- a delicate, small snowflake snow is sifting out there.
Make sure you dance and sing today.