Maytag Moments©
A Journal
04.08.2020: This is the way to start a Wednesday morning! I had to move the target to the west side for the Sun to be at my back. First time up, and I surprised myself.
We get letters:
Regarding an un-published (as yet) short story that is in PROOF form.
Thank you for writing so much in a short story. I will be reading it again and again.
Love,
Maryellen
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Thanks, Maryellen. I may write more shorts in the future. SET
This letter is from a fellow teacher who now lives in Nevada.
Readmore
Hi, Phyllis and Sam. I enjoy your blog and am grateful to know that you and your family are hanging in and doing ok—scary times.
Recently you wrote about wondering if anybody else has had the chance to commune with trees – YES, I do it often! I haven’t read that particular book, but have added it to my list of recommendations. Whenever possible, I sit in my back yard, often with my Kindle, sometimes just with thoughts, and enjoy the trees. (I also often get the song about, “I talk to the trees . . .” running through my head from the musical!) Most of the trees I see from my backyard are pine trees, not Ponderosa but still remind me of home (Flagstaff). In essence, the only problem is they are along the wall on the neighbor’s side, so fingers crossed those owners will continue to consider them valuable. I’ve been “talking” to the trees as long as I can remember, but even more of a stress reliever now that we are all staying at home.
For some kids, school is the only safe location during their day. We are closed through April 30th, unsure about after. Scary times.
Miss you both, love you, think about you often.
Love,
Brenda
xoxoxo
Yes, any trees are valuable. I hope they survive. They don’t talk back (usually). There is a spot high on the Catalina Mountains on the road to the observatories where I can walk about twenty feet into a copse of pines and hear their welcome in my mind. When PJ and I traveled to Icy Straights, Alaska, we cast a pinch of Robert’s ashes near some giant trees just off our path. I think the trees know when loving humans walk amidst them. SET
04.08.2020: 1000: Phyllis had her first appointment with her physical therapist at Body Central. His name is Sam. Young and handsome. They hit it off right away. He’s giving her some exercises online.
While she was at Body Central, I went to ACE and bought a new doorbell. Ours died after fifteen years. The cashier had a plastic screen suspended from the ceiling that separated her from the customer. I wore my Buff. Some people wore masks; some didn’t. I was able to install it before I picked PJ up. It has a Westminster Ring to it and is loud enough to hear throughout the house.
Returning home, I drove her by Culver’s, where she ordered grilled chicken, and I had fish. She is now sleeping. (The Doctor told her to take it easy for the first week.)
1500: Swombo is up. Break time.
1700: We appreciate all of your kind support of this crazy, mixed-up Maytag Moments – Journal – Blog. You were warned when you open it, that it may not be organized. It all depends on what comes out of the wash first.
There is a term for some fiction writers called Writing Into The Dark. Maytag Moments is sort of like that. As the idea crawls through my brain, I write it. Later, SWOMBO will read it. If she says, “Sam, this part doesn’t make sense, we talk about it. Sometimes, she even gives me a star for a page that she enjoys. I usually bow to her suggestions.
A couple of nights ago, we had a “Super Full Moon.” Either that, or it’s Jean-Luc Picard
on a final approach in the Enterprise.
04.09.2020: Up by 0500. 0600: Filling the birdbath in the garden. The cascading fountain is automatic; the birdbath isn’t. I must work on Dragon (again) and see why it won’t take dictation.
Neighbor, Al and Dexter Dog often pass by my office window on their morning walk. He left a clip on our Buick windshield from a 1960 memory when he was in his ‘sandbox years’. Published by the Saint Teresa’s Academy – February 12, 1960, Boise, Idaho, intitled Kackley Rides Again.
Here’s his opening remark: ‘…all the summer days started with nothing to do and so little time to do it in. If only I had known what one warm summer day held for me, I wouldn’t have gotten up out of bed.’
He then proceeds to write about his first experience at calf riding in a well-used corral. Al ends with”…if I didn’t look like a real cowboy, I smelled like one.”
How about you? You already know how my April 8th morning started. Send us a “morning experience” that you would be willing to share.
1130-1150: PJ and I walked part of Udall Park. She only had to sit once. Her step counter said 1600. That isn’t bad considering her steroid shot was last Friday.
1230: When we returned home, I made a tuna salad dish, with cold cantaloupe slices.
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“Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives.”
~Audre Lorde