Whassup, A to Z

Since I can't seem to write much of anything lately (even my recent Facebook posts have been mostly "shares" of photos and links and such), I thought I'd use the discipline of the alphabet to get the juices at least seeping, maybe dripping, hopefully flowing.

 

A - Alfred George Gardiner, a. k. a. "Alpha of the Plough." He is a delightful early twentieth-century essayist. I have four volumes of his work on my shelf: Pebbles on the Shore, Leaves in the Wind, Many Furrows, and Windfalls. So far I've only read the first two, so I have been rectifying that of late. If you like Morley, Hunt, A. A. Milne et al., you'll most probably enjoy Alpha/Alfred. That is, if you can find him, and good luck with that!

 

B - Bowling. My sister Celia and her husband Patrick were in town during the Easter octave, and one morning we all went bowling. Well, they and my other siblings-mit-spouses bowled; I sat and watched and ate french fries. Maybe someday, when my fingers are no longer crucial to the meager musical contributions I make to the liturgy, I will throw caution to the wind and a nine-pound brightly colored sphere down the lane (and, most probably, into the gutter).

 

C - Chopped All-Stars. My mom and I are great fans of Chopped!  on the Food Network. What weird combination of ingredients is lurking in the baskets, waiting for those chefs to transform it with their singular skills into something creative and delicious (or at least edible)? In the All-Stars version, there is some guarantee that the poor judges won't have to taste anything disgusting.

 

D - Dancing with the Stars. Yes, Mom and I are great fans of it, too. I'm very sad Dorothy Hamill dropped out. I suppose I'll root for Kelly Pickler (sp?).

 

E - Eternal Life  by Romano Guardini. Only just started this amazing book, but it is truly rousing my spirit to greater fervor and faith in the resurrection.

 

F - Floaters. In the eye, that is. A sign that one has truly reached middle age. I liken it to watching an old, unrestored film and seeing black threads and dots flit through the celluloid. The most frustrating thing about floaters, for me, is looking up at the sky and mistaking the darn things for purple martins. But, in most cases, floaters are as benign as hot flashes (and equally annoying). My eye doctor confirmed the benignity of my own this morning, as he gazed deeply into my dilated eyes and solemnly proclaimed to his assistant, "Chambers deep and quiet." I told him I was a poet, and found that phrase particularly poetical. He just laughed.

 

G - Granola with greek yogurt. More specifically, Trader Joe's three berry granola with Trader Joe's vanilla bean greek yogurt. Have it almost daily, though I find it so filling I can only eat a small amount at a time. But yummy, yummy, yummy in my tummy!

 

H - Speaking of yogurt, it can also be spelled with an "h" - "yoghurt" or "yoghourt." Knew about the first alternate spelling; never saw the second.

 

I - Intercession. I don't know how effective I am as an intercessor, but I love praying for the needs of others. Some of my friends have lately been asking me to pray for them, and I am always more than happy to do so.

 

J - Jane Austen, of course. Because I have recently re-read Emma and Pride and Prejudice.  The latter I read during my 20-minute saltwater soakings after having an ingrown toenail removed. Too much information? Well, it certainly made those 20 minutes go faster!

 

K - Kan't think of anything. Including Kant.

 

L - Listening. I have set up many different stations on Pandora to cover my eclectic tastes in music. My favorite at the moment is my Corelli station, which plays not only Corelli, but other mid- to late Baroque composers. My two gripes with Pandora are: 1) the customizing is limited. I can't specify which performers I prefer to hear on which pieces. So they might give me, say, Sir Neville Marinner and The Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields playing a Handel concerto grosso, when I'd much prefer Nicholas McGegan and the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra; 2) Pandora only plays a single movement of a work, so you don't experience the whole arc of a sonata or concerto.

 

M - Martins. Purple ones, that is. Every spring it is a particular joy to see the martins come to our condominiums in the back yard, to see them sitting on their "porch" with their neighbors, of both the martin variety and the sparrow (they live together quite amicably, once they've claimed their apartments); and to watch those prodigious flyers swoop and glide over our house like miniature airplanes.

 

N - Night driving. Can't do it anymore; at least, not in congested or unfamiliar areas. Headlights bother me, and I have a hard time seeing street corners and signs. Once, driving home from an unfamiliar location in the rain, I stopped at a red light, and a few seconds later I realized I had stopped smack dab in the middle of the intersection because I couldn't see the curb corners. No more night driving for me, despite my "chambers deep and quiet"!

 

O - Outings. For the past several months I have been going on regular weekly outings with my childhood bosom friend, Anita, who last autumn moved back here after living in St. Louis for many years. We had lost touch after her wedding, which took place not long after high school. It has been a great joy having her back in town!

 

P - Poetry reading. I gave another one last week, to a small but very appreciative group at an independent book store. I learned a very important lesson: drink only room temperature water during a reading. Someone gave me a bottle of carbonated, lime-flavored water that contained artificial sweetener. Artificial sweeteners (whether all of them or particular kinds, I don't know) upset my stomach and also create phlegm in my throat, two quite undesirable things to have when doing a long poetry reading.

 

Q - Quiet pleasures. My mother and I recently watched again Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel  (formerly known as Anne of Avonlea;  I wish they hadn't changed the title). Once again, we wept at the scene where Anne thanks Matthew for the dress with the puffed sleeves, the scene at the train station when Anne goes off to college, and of course, Matthew's death and the scene where Marilla cradles Anne in her arms and tells her, "You're like my own flesh and blood now."

 

R - Routine. I love giving poetry readings, but they're always in the evening and disrupt my routine, then I feel all discombobulated. I am a creature of routine. That doesn't mean I don't have variety or spontaneity in my life. For instance, when Anita and I have our weekly outing, it may or may not be on a Monday, and we usually go somewhere different each time, and sometimes just "wing it." So, you see, I have variety and spontaneity within the routine. As long as my hour of morning prayer remains undisturbed, and I make sure to arrange my evening schedule around evening prayer and my shower, I'm happy. But the poetry reading made me move both my shower time and evening prayer, so I felt extremely discombobulated. I am really such a delicate hothouse flower.

 

S - Submitting poetry. Something I've done precious little of this past year. But I'm rectifying that. I have two poems currently in print, and sent another submission just yesterday.

 

T - Telephone calls. In recent weeks, I've received calls from two old and dear friends. What a pleasure to hear their voices, not just see their words on a screen or even in a hand-written letter! Aside from Anita, all my dearest friends live far away, and though I believe very strongly in the spiritual bond of true friendship, it is wonderful actually to hear their voices, and even more wonderful to see them in person.

 

U - Underwear. I have too much of it.

 

V - Voice. I have too little left. My singing voice is but a faint thread of what it once was. My vocal glory days are past and gone, and I am left with barely two octaves of uneven, quavering, phlegm-ridden tone. Sometimes I can't even phonate around the lower passaggio without resorting to full chest voice. Oh, well. My fingers, too, are getting stiffer as we speak, and I'll bet a pretty penny I couldn't get through even half a movement of a Mozart sonata to save my skin. But I'm not really unhappy about any of that. There are so many other, more essential, things in my life that compensate for those seeming losses.

 

W - Word games. Word Drop, Word Paths, Word Chaos, Word Trouble, Word Search, Word Pyramid, Word Frenzy ... (huff-huff, pant-pant)

 

X marks this empty spot.

 

Y - Yelling at the TV. Specifically, at news reporters who say things like, "Several students have drank ... "

 

Z - Zzzzzzzzzz. Which is what you're probably doing at this point in reading my trivial ramblings.