Observations and Musings

The man stands there, looking out at the world.
His face, isn't especially striking,
But there is something there
That draws your eye.
Perhaps the weariness
The sadness at all he's seen
One thing after the other over the years,
But also the gleam of hope
Because he's seen good things happen, too.


Pentecost again.
Reminding us that the Spirit is with us
Always
Strange that we need reminding
But that's the way we Christians tend to be
Forgetful of the important things
Some of us too full of ourselves,
Others too busy judging everyone else,
And some of us just plodding along doing the best
We can.
Good sermon today,
Telling us it isn't that WE need the words or the actions
To show others how God is,
But rather that we need to shut up
And let God speak through us,
Showing others by doing
The right thing,
The kind thing,
The difficult thing,
The thing requiring discomfort,
And love,
And forgiveness.
Even if that means
We have to forgive ourselves.



We have a new doorbell. It doesn't ring in the house, it rings our phones.  We can see who's there no matter WHERE we are, and we can take their picture.  It senses motion, too, so it can do that whether they ring the bell or not.  Kinda freaky, and it goes off sometimes when the neighbor's dog comes cruising by, or the feral cat from down the street...
We got the sensitivity adjusted, now it just sees people who come up to the house.  Except the UPS man runs too fast for it to catch him...


I think I may need a lingerie intervention. I bought two more Panache bras this week. I already have SEVERAL.  They are all different styles, though, only one or two types do I have more than one color of...
And in spite of the cost, my husband does NOT seem to mind...

The June bugs (who are always early, it's still MAY, for God's sake!)  are out there bopping into my window and buzzing on the sill, dive-bombing the  driveway light, and generally being a poorly guided nuisance.

 As the weather fronts battle it out in the atmosphere, my sinuses battle with whatever it is that they kick up and spread into the air.  The last few days have been just awful in terms of congestion, itchy eyes, and sinus headaches.  I am beginning to think Spring really sucks!

Trying to fight off "Con Brain."  Planning and packing lists running amok in my head!  I am sure I will take more clothes than I will wear,but at  least I'll be prepared for almost ANYTHING!!
Also, deciding how much of my over-the-counter medications to bring along is an interesting problem.  I don't take anything that is prescribed for me these days, but I do take aspirin, antihistamine, and Muscinex almost daily right now...

Whatever I did to deserve these hot flashes, I'm SORRY already!  Please make them STOP!!  I am getting tired of feeling like I'm about to sweat through my clothes for no apparent reason, and sometimes burning up like that makes me feel a bit dizzy, too.  It's so very distracting, AND I can't seem to go an entire night without waking up sweltering at least once.  I can 't do hormone replacement because of my blood pressure, so that remedy is out.  Think I'm gonna try sleeping in a tub of ice.

Things you hear in the library:  "Batman vs Superman?  A local kid with fancy hardware versus an alien with superpowers."


Perhaps it should trouble me that I talk back to a talking toy?  Whenever my "Thunderbird 2" that Matt bought me says "This is Thunderbird 2, mission complete, I'm on my way home."  I always answer "Thanks for the warning, Virgil."

It's cold outside, and cloudy, and threatening rain.  I have decided to be lazy and curl up with a cup of something and something to read.

Why do I always start yawning and feeling worn out when I have things I want to do?

The End Of Poetry Month

I have just added the last poem to the month-long daily compositions that I have been posting all throughout April.
The discipline of writing something every day (well, nearly every day.  Some days I didn't, but many days I wrote and posted two) has been good for me.
There may not be daily posts anymore for a while, but I think the challenge of writing something every day may continue.  I may be more selective about what I post.  Admittedly, many of the poems this month are very rough still, some may not be things I would normally publish.  But they are what came to me each day as the month progressed.
The last poem, the one I wrote tonight, is about the TV shows that most excited me as a child.  I didn't mention titles, but anyone who is as geeky as I am would recognize Thunderbirds, Gigantor, and Star Trek.  All stuff girls weren't "supposed" to like.
Now, I was a terribly girly girl.  I had over 100 dolls, a playhouse, toy dishes, Barbies, home made Barbie clothes, frilly dresses, the whole nine yards.  I also LOVED spaceships, airplanes, and the idea of a giant robot who could fly and do all kinds of cool things.
My parents were rather schizophrenic in the way they raised me.  They kept telling me I was smart AND pretty, and expected me to go to college.  I think their real agenda was for me to find a "suitable" husband, but MY objective was to learn as much as I could.  About everything. Except maybe math.  Math and I don't get along.  Never mind that it is very necessary for those cool spaceships and robots that I love.  I like playing with words better, so here I am.

The poem about the little dog who waits at the library is one of my favorites.  I am also rather fond of my verse about trying to catch sleep.  All of the good ones seem to write themselves.

This has been a lot of fun, challenging myself to write something and get it up on the blog every single day.  I hope you have enjoyed it.

Watch Out, It's Poetry Month!!

April's Fool
C.K. Armistead 4/1/2016

And I wonder
Sometimes
If I am the only one
Who isn't paying attention
And missing the joke.
Everyone else is laughing,
And I wonder why.
Sometimes
I am afraid they are
Laughing
AT me,
Which I feel bad about,
IF you laugh WITH me,
I don't mind a bit.
My heart isn't exactly
On my sleeve,
But I can still be
Hurt.
Pretty deeply
When you're not looking
I cry all over the
Pages
And rain words
Like tears
Until I feel
Well again.

The Stuff Of Life
C.K. Armistead
4/2/2016

"Do not squander time,
It is the stuff Life
Is made of"
Or some similar thing
Said the sundial
Shown on
Gone With The Wind
I have always wondered
About that.
Time is such a fickle commodity.
Running fast as Spring storm water
Or as slowly as the proverbial
Molasses.
Slowly, and wearily
Ticking by
When life is hard upon us,
When we are sad,
Or waiting for news
Rushing and roaring
Right past us
When there are things
We need to do,
When we are with the ones
We love and do not
Often get to see.
There never seems to be enough time
To just hug the stuffing out
Of the ones you love so much
That are usually far away
Never enough time
To stop and say
I love you,
I really do.
My life would be SO much less
Without you in it,
Even if you are usually
So far away
 Physically.
 So, all of you
That I rarely see,
But who mean
So much to me,
(And I hope by now
you all KNOW who you are.)
I love you, I really do
My life would be SO much less
Without you in it.
Really.
Please know that it is true.

The Thief
C.K.Armistead
4/2/16

Time is a thief
We all know this.
You look up  one day
And the face staring back at you
Has wrinkles
And your hair is grey.
You think about things,
And it seems they happened
Only yesterday.
But it's been more
Than 30 years.
You aren't that old yet?
Don't feel too cocky.
Time's stealing your life away, too.
You just haven't noticed yet.
Why all this musing on time today?
Well,
Thirty years ago today
My Pop died.
He's been gone now
Longer than I had him with me in my life.
I was 26 years old.
Already married,
Already not living at home,
But still his Baby Girl.
His Sugar Foot.
Katie Didder.
Only HE got to call me that.
Nobody else better try it.
No matter how much
Of life Time steals away,
That little girl
Who loves her Pop
Is still here.
Still trying
To make him proud.

Spring
C.K.Armistead
4/3/2016

Warm inviting sunshine
But the breeze still has an edge
Trees still not quite leafed out
But daffodils blooming under the hedge.

Spirit yearning to stretch and grow
Yet flesh resistant to trust
That new, flickering, struggling glow
Afraid to stand and shake off the rust.

A season of such contradiction
Of profuse, expansive bloom
And sudden, freezing contraction
Of hope in the light,  but full consciousness of the gloom.

Lord of Springtime, Lord of love
Strengthen our trembling hearts
That we may show the world your love
And spread peace to all its parts.

And Do You Know?
C.K. Armistead 4/3/16

We speak so seldom
Hardly seems we could be
Friends.
Yet, I believe we are.
Your smile makes my heart happy
Your adventures are of interest
Even though you are not
Right here
In my everyday life.
So many of you,
Friends and family
Both.
That live in my heart
And always will
Though we don't often
Connect.
And do you know
That you are loved?
I hope you do
Because you are.
And do you know
It matters not
That we aren't close
You are still cared for.
Your presence matters
To me in this world.
Don't forget that
Please.
I've lost one who did forget
Who thought he was all alone
When he was surrounded by
Love.
Please remember
You are loved.
You are.
And do you know how dearly?
Do you?

Planting Dreams
C.K. Armistead
4/4/16

Spring air stirs the soul
Calls me outdoors,
Sets me to dreaming of beautiful
Flowers
Fragrant herbs,
And pleasant shady
Evenings
In the garden
With you.

Soil amended
New plants planted,
Prayers said for their
Prosperity.
Achy back and sore knees
Water bill going higher
All for the dream
Of fragrant beauties
Found in this garden
If Nature so pleases.

Brutus Waiting

C.K.Armistead 

4/5/16

He sits by Daddy's  chair

Ears up

Listening,

Bright eyes watching. 

He's always up to make a new friend,

But his eyes

Are watching 

For Mama.

He's  well behaved,

Quite polite,

Greeting all who greet him,

Never pestering those that don't

He always seems a happy boy

But oh, when Mama comes out,

You've never seen such joy!

If he could, he'd twist and shout

A Good Night For Sleeping
By C.K.Armistead
4/5/16

"It's so windy,
It's a good night for sleeping."
My Pop used to say.
I used to think he was nuts.
All I could hear
Was the old tree outside (and above)
My bedroom creaking, groaning,
And moaning like Marley's ghost
Thought it was coming for me
For sure.
But Pop loved the wild song of the wind
Loved the whispers of the places
It had been
The power in that invisible
Breeze
That could bend and even buckle
Mighty trees.
Even now,
When the wind is especially high,
I remember Pop
And his anticipation
Of being sung to sleep
By the song
Of the wind.

Awake 

By C.K. Armistead 

4/6/16

To wake up

To move, stretch,

Feel with your body

That your mind

Has come online again.

My body often resists,

Telling my brain 

To shut up,

I need more time.

Perhaps, rather, it is

My mind

That  seeks to stay

In the carefree realm

Of slumber, 

Where no demands are made, 

And no responses expected. 

To be awake, aware of the world 

Around us

Implies a responsibility 

To interact with that world.

There are things We must do,

Responses we must make 

If we are to function properly 

In the world 

Both for our own comfort, 

And that of others.

If we seek to remain 

Asleep,

We don't fulfill our side

Of the bargain with

Society 

That allows us all to live 

With at least some degree

Of peace.

We must, therefore, 

Be awake and aware,

And do our share

Of the work

Of civilization. 

So that the agents of

Chaos

Are not allowed

To destroy those 

Who cannot defend 

Themselves

Those who need their rest

And trust the rest of us 

To watch over the safety 

Of their sleep.

The Cyclical Nature Of Time
C.K. Armistead 4/7/16

Birth.
Life.
Death.
Waking,
Doing,
Sleeping.
Childhood,
Adulthood,
Old age.
We begin with little
But potential
Add knowledge
And experience
Every day.
End up full
Of emotions
And knowledge
But out of time
To share them
The trick is
To make the most
Of the middle
Life
Doing
Adulthood
The time to collect knowledge
And experiences,
But also to share them
So that old age
May be spent
Relishing them.
And all those
Who we met
Along the way.

Peaceful  Place

By C. K. Armistead 

4/8/ 16

There is an astonishing 

Amount of peace

To be found in one's own

Garden.

Never mind the awful amount

Of work involved in establishing 

And maintaining it

The blooms

And the birdsong

Bring such balm

As offsets all the toil.

A "Good" Tired
By C.K.Armistead
 4/9/16

Achy,
But not sore.
Weary,
But capable of more.
Awake,
But not wired.
Satisfied -
It's a good tired.

Goals set
And accomplished
Challenges met
Feeling astonished
That the race is done,
Our tasks are complete
We have won
We rest replete.


Dark Is His Path
By C.K.Armistead
April 11, 2016

When the sky
Turns ugly
And the wind whispers
Of threats coming
I turn my eyes
To the horizon,
And see the storm
Approaching.
I remember then
A line from an old hymn
"And dark is his path
On the wings of the storm."
About God's nearness
Even in turbulent times.
Still
It seems he does have
A very rugged and dark
Path
To come to save us
Along the flanks
Of that boiling,
Dark,
Flashing,
Howling
Storm.

Hurry And Worry

C.K. Armistead  4/12/16

The phone rings incessantly. 

On more than one line.

No sooner dealt with,

And it rings again. 

Time I do not have, 

For I am due 

At the service desk

Where a line of customers  wait.

All afternoon, 

One question after another,

One smile after another. 

Often they come with worry,

And because of information we have,

They leave with a smile.

There have been enough of those today

To make the hurry worthwhile.


Writing
C.K.Armistead 4/13/1
When staring at a blank page
It seems time drags like the last ice age
When ideas finally pop
You write so fast your hand will drop
Lifeless into your lap
Before you run out of creative sap.
If you try to force the muse
She will pout and flatly refuse
No words will flow, none will fit
What you produce will sound like, well, Sh*t.
When at last the muse agrees,
Writing will become a breeze
Images and words will show it
You are and always have been a poet.


I suppose these next lines count as a poem.  I wrote them today in honor of a friend's birthday:

To my friend Ron:
I can't make collages or do video
 Words are the only art I know
 So from my heart I will say
 I wish you a very happy Birthday

Perhaps I should rather say
 Greetings and felicitations on your natal day!


Is That Me?
By C.K. Armistead
4/14/16
Sometimes the mirror
Startles me.
Who is that lady?
The one with grey hair
But a cute haircut,
And who is in better shape
Than I thought I was.
Is that me?
Really?
Because I feel
Clumsy and big
Even though I am
But little.
I feel like the awkward teen
Who wrote angst filled verse
And dreamed of making
A splash in the world
But was afraid
Of her own words.
Who is that confident
Woman
Looking back at me?


For The Birds
C.K.Armistead
4/14/16

Dear Starling in the pecan tree
Bleeping and clicking like
An electronic device at me
Please be so kind as to take a hike.
Your incessant noise is most unpleasant
And the St. Francis statue below you
Doesn't look good wearing your excrement
Kindly find another loo!

Dear Blue Jay creaking on the fence
I know you only want a bath, you see
Please know that I won't take offense
If you make use of our birdbath facility.
I only ask that you take care
And don't fling the water everywhere
I'm not sitting that far away,
And I must look presentable at work today.

Dear Mocking bird scolding the squirrel
Please realize that he doesn't care.
You can scold and dive and whirl
And he'll just stop and blankly stare.
Please take your loud shenanigans
Away, I fiercely plead
For I have to begin all over again
This page I've been trying to read.

Dear Robin singing from on high
You alone are welcome here
Your song so lovely makes me sigh
It is a pleasure to my ear
If those others would so pardon
Us, and be on their merry way
Joining the pigeon squadron
 Off to find the next full feeder of the day.

Dear Sparrows flitting everywhere,
You may stay as well, I guess.
Your merry play without care
Eases much of my stress.
Though most of you can be a pain,
The yard would be lonely without you
So please, come back and visit again
But don't use St. Francis for a loo!

Come With Me!
C.K.Armistead
4/15/16

Come with me!
Look!
See?
It's all here in a
Book.
Adventures galore
Trips to a faraway shore
Rich and satisfying lore
Will leave you begging for more
Just one more
Story.
Please?
I'll go right to sleep,
I promise,
Just one more story
Too help me keep
My dreams alive tonight?
Please?
Listen...
Once upon a time
In a kingdom bright
A little dragon
Wouldn't say goodnight
He began to weep...
Because he didn't
Want to go
To sleep.
Sleep, little dragon
Don't you know?
All of us will watch
Over you
And wait for tomorrow
To hear your stories anew.
Away with sorrow,
Away with fear,
Sleep, little dragon,
You have friends here.

Symmetry 

By C.K.Armistead 

4/17/16

Symmetry  is supposed to be 

Attractive to the human mind

But it is evident to me

That my face is not

The symmetrical kind

My left eye is at a tiny bit

Of an angle

My dimples seem to sit

In something of a tangle.

It makes my smile quirk

With a twinkling sort of grace

And so it seems to work

For my particular face.

Spring Rain
By C.K. Armistead
4/18/16

And the rain came
And the waters rose
I feared for the safety
Of the new plants
Those not yet anchored
In the newly placed soil.
But they seem fine
Growing and prospering
In spite of the rain.
Perhaps because of it.
Just as we dread the dreary
Stormy times
Fearing for the safety
Of our tenuous connection
To this life
Yet they seem to bring
Deep nourishment
To our souls
Helping us flourish
In the end.

Remembrance
C.K.Armistead
4/20/16

Every year
April 19th brings
The sounds, the sights,
The feelings
Back.
The shock
The hurt
The tears.

Even now, sometimes
I see the ruin
Of that building
In my mind
And I remember
Families torn apart,
Our community's heart broken.

The day brings back
So much sadness
Those injured,
Those lost
Especially the children
Who never  had a
Chance to grow up.

It also brought gifts
The gift of love
In the face of  hatred
The gift of courage
In the face of terror,
The gift of healing
In the midst of broken hearts.

That day showed us all
Both how awful humans can be
And also how marvelous,
How loving and sacrificing
Humans can be.
That day taught me
That I, too, was now
An Oklahoman.

(In honor of the 21st anniversary of the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in downtown OKC.)

A Very Special Gift

By C.K.Armistead 

4/20/16

Perhaps the best gift

To come all unexpected  from

That sorrowful April  day

Is the musical gift

We have found

Since becoming a part

Of the choir.

In truth and in symbol

The harmonies 

We partake in 

Are a gift of fellowship 

And worship 

A wonderful unity

Found in that blend

Our individual voices

Into one.

Every week since

That awful day

We have been safe

In the midst of that

Harmony 

In the midst of our family 

Of faith.

Which if not for tragedy 

We might never

Have truly found.

Music is both worship

And prayer

Giving blessing

To both listeners

And singers.

A beautiful expression 

Of our love for God

And one another.


2016
By C.K. Armistead
4/22/16

I sit and stare at the screen
Sadness everywhere, it would seem.
So much loss, I want to scream
I truly wonder what it all means.

Once upon a time, Don McLean
Sang about the Day the Music Died
This year, to me, it seems,
Is the YEAR the artists died.

So many sad losses, one after another,
And on a personal note, we lost my mother.
Is there a plot out there to smother
Creativity?  Big Brother?

We will survive this year, I hope
Without losing anyone else so dear,
I don't know if I could cope
And despair is what I fear.



The Payoff
By C.K.Armistead
4/23/16

Now all the hard work
Of mowing and weeding
Is done.
We can relax
And maybe have
A little fun.
Sitting with a drink in hand
Surveying the beauty
Our efforts command.



Beware
By C.K.Armistead
4/25/16

The clouds are massing
To the Southwest
The teams are out tracking
The weather's brewing a mess.
Let us pray with all our might
That the Tornado monsters
Pass us by tonight.
With the ice balls they fling
And their terrible teeth
They destroy everything
That falls beneath.
This is one little town
That's had more than it's share
Of toothy tornadoes
And ice-ball filled air.
We've seen this misery all before
So tornadoes, just take yourselves
Right away from Moore.


Muses
By C.K.Armistead
4/25/16

Whimsical and inconsistent,
Oh, wordy spirits,
Hear my complaint!
You lead me on
Keep me awake all night,
Only to vanish
When I need you,
When I have time to write.
All night I hear poems,
Or clever dialog,
Interesting plot diversions,
But by morning, they are gone.
Trying to write them down at night
Is worse than trying to catch a sprite.
Whenever paper, pencil  or screen are close by
Those beautiful words and images fly.
And will not return until once more
I lie trying to sleep and listening
To my husband snore.

Calm Restored
By C.K. Armistead
4/26/16

The noisy meteorological show
Has finished it's bluster,
Gone somewhere else to rumble and blow.
And I  have my tidy world again
Where all is well and safe
Where nothing can harm
Or scare me
My happy place.
For you are here,
Your arms enfold me
There is no fear
When you hold me.


Happy Birthday, Mom
By C.K.Armistead
4/27/16

You aren't here anymore
Where I can send you things
Or call you up and say
I hope your day was wonderful
And I love you.
So,
Happy Birthday, Mom,
I miss you.
I survived another round of
Bad weather last night
Matt's doing well,
He sends his love.
I got to spend time with
Amy and her little girl
The last time I was
Back in California.
They are both well,
 And Amy's husband
Is a good man.
I went out there
To say goodbye to you
And to see where you and Pop
Are remembered formally
Upon this earth.
The place looks nice, all the trees
Are bigger, LOTS bigger than when
We said goodbye to Pop.
Not so easy to see downtown
From there anymore.
But the wind whispers stories
Through those trees,
And I bet Pop would love the place.
Mostly,
You are both remembered and loved
In our hearts,
All four of us,
and anyone else who ever knew you.
I miss you both,
And I hope you are together,
Because someday,
I want to see you both again.
And I hope you'll be proud of me
Of all I am,
Of all I have done,
Even though it isn't for wealth or fame,
I have made lives better.
I DO make lives better,
One little bit at a time,
Every day,
Every time I go to work.
Sometimes in a very quiet way,
A lot like you did.
I learned a lot about
How to be kind
From you.
I really miss you,  Mommy-Mo.


Sleep
By C.K. Armistead
4/28/16

Thou elusive sprite,
I'll catch thee yet!
My eyes shut tight,
The bedclothes my net.
Even though you do scorn
My company,
Long afore morn,
Mine ye shall be!
Leave off the aches that plague
Leave off the sniffling nose
I must fatigue assuage,
Before sanity goes.
Quiet,  thou clacking brain,
And peace, ye racing thoughts,
Let peaceful calm remain
And let sweet sleep be caught.



Escape
By C. K. Armistead
4/29/16

When reality is just a bit too much
I find a better place to look
For comfort, distraction, and such
I simply sit and read a book.
Doesn't have to be the paper kind,
Even though those are very nice
If it's electronic, I don't mind,
As long as there's power for the device.
Sometimes, I find myself dreaming
And making up my own tales
Instead of just reading,
Against harsh reality, writing prevails.
I crawl into my cozy world
And visit with old friends
Until my ennui is cured
And I can face life once again.


Seeking Sanctuary
(A poem based on Beauty and the Beast 1987)
By C.K. Armistead
4/26/16, edited 4/29/16

Catherine's thoughts one stormy night:

How I wish I  could go Below tonight. 

The wind is high,

The clouds are ripe, 

There's going to be

A storm up here.

I wish I could be 

Where candle flame

Glows cheerily

And everyone knows my name.

I wish I could go there

To my safest place where

I'll come to no harm 

When I  see his face

And rest in the safety

Of his arms.

Old Friends
By C.K.Armistead
4/30/16

I stumbled across an old friend today
An old TV show I used to love
When I was very young
And full of dreams.
This show, I should say,
Is not something girls are "supposed"
To have liked
In that era, when I was young.
It involved rockets and space ships
And rescues
And I am sure far more boys watched it.
But I adored it.
Never did I feel I could not
Be one of the daring crew
That went out and saved
People in need.
Not that I WANTED to,
But I felt I could have.
I just adored the machines
And the things they could do.
These old friends reminded me
Of a couple of other
Favorites.
One that I never let go of
And another I had almost forgotten.
One was a giant robot
Controlled by a young boy
The other was the crew of a Starship
Whose adventures I've followed
Forever after.
Because they made me dream
Gave me hope
Made me wonder how
We could get to a world
That much better than this one.
Yep. I was a geeky fangirl
LONG before it was cool.

Another Fine Group of Trivial Insights

867-5309 Jenny has to be the catchiest creeper song ever recorded.

When you have online friends, they are often just waking up when you are headed to bed, and vice versa.

Of all the coins that multiply in bottles, dishes, pockets, old purses and under couch cushions, why do pennies have to be the most prolific?

No matter how annoying, there is still something mournful that makes me think of tales that could be told in the notes of a train horn.

Random songs often get stuck in my head, especially things I'm working on for voice.  My voice coach says that this is my subconscious going over the details on its own.

Whenever someone comes to dine at our house, they end up spending an inordinate amount of time keeping us company while we do dishes.  (Small kitchen, lots of dishes.)

Being tired and knowing it's time to go to sleep doesn't make it any easier to get up from this desk and go get ready for bed.  The idea of getting up and doing that much stuff wears me out.

"Instant Dry" nail polish never is.

Laundry:  Another one of those jobs that has to be done again almost as soon as you're finished. Like dishes, cooking, or checking in books.

Yes, the Oxford comma is VERY important.

Coffee after 7pm or so is generally a bad idea where I'm concerned...

In winter, I can honestly say that I love my hot flashes.  (I'm never cold for long!)

My husband is a sweetheart, and he indulges me something awful.

Major appliances are always just waiting for the chance to betray you. This is why we buy service agreements.

I know I'm part Scot.  I know this because bagpipes stir something deep in my soul.  The response I have is visceral, and the old songs seem too familiar for the number of times I've actually sung them.

Why is it that on the days I really WANT to go out and walk, the weather is such that I cannot, and thus am stuck on the elliptical again?

Winter always reminds me exactly how many times it has visited me in the past.

Just because Shasta doesn't sell a diet version of their "California Dreamin'" Orange creme soda, doesn't mean I can make my own.  Half diet Cream Soda, half diet Orange Soda.  GOOD.

Cape Cod Sweet Mesquite kettle cooked potato chips should probably come with an "addictive substance" warning.

Giving feels especially good when you know it will benefit a cause dear to your heart.

The news media just CANNOT go with the information they have in hand, they HAVE to speculate.  It's never a good idea.

Some communities do not recognize the importance of their libraries, for instance, relegating them to "leisure activities".  Very thankful that our community sees us as a MAJOR asset, and not a "leisure activity", though we certainly provide plenty of leisure activities.  We are mainly seen as a valuable information and technology resource, and a partner in the education of the whole community.

Writing the Christmas cards is probably my least favorite holiday activity.

I must have been suffering from temporary insanity last year.  I put one of the cat's old bells on the zipper pull to this sweater.  Now, when I move, I keep looking for the cat so I don't step on her.  She's been dead more than two years...

I must be getting old.  It used to seem, when I was a kid, that Christmas would NEVER get here, and now, it seems like I no sooner get the decorations put away, and it's time to haul them out again, because Christmas is breathing down our necks again.  Still, I love this time of year...

A Poem For Michael

This is one I wrote for Michael Ornstein, an artist and actor who interacts with me on Twitter from time to time.  His work and his comments on it have caused me to ponder art of all sorts and its relationship to life.  Art is necessary to our existence, no matter what some may say or think.
This poem to me especially speaks of how Michael's art speaks to me. 
Thanks, Michael, for all the points to ponder, and for making me look at my own art, that of painting with words. 


Ruminations On Art
By C.K. Armistead
March 2014


Art is like life
You can't erase
You can only add
A layer to cover
To keep hidden the sad,
To smooth the rough over.
But still
It shows through
Just like in life
Truth finds
Its way out
Past the façade
We choose
To try
To hide it.




And here are my thoughts on my own art, not always practiced as much as it should be.


Ruminations on Poetry
By C.K. Armistead
March 2014


Words written or spoken
Cannot be taken back
Once said, once read,
They go on
Leaving hearts healed
Or broken
In their wake.
Like any art,
You can only add
Never take away
You can try to cover
The ugliness you say
Or perceive
But truth will out
Under the ugly
The beauty
Behind the hurt
The healing
If we're lucky.




I hope you enjoy these ruminations of mine.  I felt today to be a good day to write, even though I am at work this morning.  This IS a library, after all, a place of words and ideas, where they are sheltered, stored, shared.  If I cannot write here, where CAN I write? 
It is raining out this morning, and cool, and dreary enough to cause reflection and ruminations.  There is also an odd energy about the library today, cheerfulness and activity, people here and happy to see one another, children playing and reading and growing.  A good morning.  I hope it is where you are, too.