Archive | December 2016

PUZZLED

Blast this gift

It calls me from the living room

Spread out in bits and pieces

Initially heaped and piled

Now beginning to fall in place

Driving me mad

Usurping my time

My sleep

Days

and days

And nights

It grabs me on my way to the coffee maker

Pulls my eyes to that notched edge I sought for hours last evening

Gad

It was right there

RIGHT THERE

How could I have missed it

Aughhh

This does not match the image on the box

Not

One

Iota

Its colors trick the eye

Changing nobs to points

Clouds to puddles

Depending on  light and shadows

From back  windows

And pole lamps

It feeds my foibles

Addiction

Obsession

Frustration

Jubilation

Success

Back pats

Silent cheers

Yessssssss!

Finally total satisfaction at tearing it completely apart

And sending it to the next junkie

Enjoy!

Sucker

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GREAT COURSES DAY ONE

So, rather than listen to the shrieking voices of callers and hosts on the radio talk shows I listen to while reviewing loan files (the sky is not falling, my darlings, unless you let it), today I decided to listen to the first of twelve CDs accompanying my ‘Becoming a Great Essayist” class from The Great Courses. Professor Jennifer Cognard-Black grabbed me in the introduction by suggesting that a recipe could be the basis for a food essay…immediately my mind started wandering between the loan I was approving, and the old recipes I have on hand, and I became bored with the effort of the good professor to present an interesting lecture. I am not saying she does a bad job, but I realized she was reading her lecture, as in dramatic reading, with sighs and pregnant pauses designed to grab your interest and transfer the emotion of Virginia Wolff haunting London, or clarify her own emotion in writing an essay about her unfashionable, but wonderful, brilliant and scholarly mother. I realized that, like my grandchildren, when someone reads to me, I want to grab the page and read it for myself, putting my own intonations where/if necessary. I wondered what listening to the good professor in a classroom would be like. Would she speak more naturally? Does she speak this way normally? Does her whole family measure their words so carefully? How many times did she re-record this, making certain her voice was smooth and pleasant? I must say, she is certainly more interesting to listen to than Barbara Kingsolver droning through one of her books on tape.
 
It shall be a good course. I’m already wrestling with the professor, HA. And now to find those recipes.