ticket holders

Market Day

little legs BiG SnOw

we wake to day luxuriously late

and unwrap the present of this day

with white white wonder

the streets are full of snow

and i am as excited as the dogs i meet
snow day full of glee

we
leap bounds of snow
shuffle along
tracks others have left

owen walks behind me
as i create a wind barrier

we walk
and we walk

and the white colours all the other colours

suddently the painted lillac trellis speaks to me
as we shuffle along

the sky is white too
grey white

the sun behind snow
smaller and wanting

and we trudge along
one foot in front of the other

two feet followed by two feet
clad in small red rubber boots
with woolen socks home made
my faithful owen follows

diligent in the journey
pretending to be an old dog
but really a relaxed dog
some might call lazy

we run into a small pack
playing wildly nipping
and barking with the general air of partying

owen waits on the outskirt of this
appealing to the humans
wondering if any food offerings are available

i stand back as well,
a little too gleeful
and impractical about this crazy dumping of
awesome, yes awesome powdery fantastical snow

i am taken back to the times of childhood
but mostly embrace the profound silence that is bestowed
even in this frantic city

all the dogs smile at me
every single one

then owen and i head home
trudging back

at this point
everyone is out
shovelling the stuff

and there are people present outside familiar houses
that i have never seen before

the city becomes smaller
as we are all under this white blanket
of wintery possibility and duty

and coming home on my tired legs
inside i pick off the snow balls on owens tired little legs
melting them with warm hands
one as big as a golf ball

and giggle at the humorous sight of my companion
wearing an icy mask from breathe and cold and snow

inside we eagerly eat our breakfasts
and owen deservedly naps

Method Reader

I am reading a book entitled 'The Outlander' by Gil Adamson.

From the back cover:

"In 1903, two vengeful brothers and a pack of bloodhounds track a mysterious young woman across the western wilderness. She is nineteen years old. Half mad. A widow by her own hand. "

So I haven't washed in a week, other than my teeth because that can lead to tooth decay an irreversible dilema.
I have washed my hands and face, but haven't bathed. Getting that western wilderness unwashed feeling. I have been working solitaire at home alone, my daughter enjoys her own brand of deshelvelment and my husband has a dull sense of smell. It's deep winter so when I go outside I wear a big parka and a talk neck tube scarf and a hat, so I figure my smell is contained besides it's breezy outside and I am accompanied by my dog who I can blame for any escaped stench.

I am enjoying the sameness each day of putting on the same clothing as the day before. Today on Fashion Television there was a feature discussing the 'uniform' of different designers, often a black tee and dark jeans. Einstein had a uniform of suits and John Cage had a uniform of denim. My uniform is khaki and olive greens and grays, my favorite neutral. It is very nice not thinking what to wear and the familiarity of the same clothing each day. I am also reminded of cartoon charactors like Nancy and Tin Tin. It is sort of a vacation, a mini sloth experiment, a fermentation.

I do have a social occasion coming up this Friday and in honour of this I will bathe throughly and put on fresh clothing. I haven't decieded if I will launder the clothing I am wearing or come up with a new 'uniform'. Something to be said for relaxing the hygene routine. Saving resourses, water, and realizing how long it takes to get stinky. I am looking forward to the newness of getting clean and know I will really enjoy that.

Books do not come with odour, other that that discribed. Rumbled and relaxed. Mind on other matters and an empathy for the charactors riding horses, living rough. Who says one needs to book a vacation to take one. Austerity as vacation rather than opulance. Experiences and experiments that are accessable to get into the skin of a fiction charactor to test limits and elements and to choose to stop. Social conventions challenged. Exploration in daily routines.

Just thought I would share my enjoyable some what malodorous state.

Remainders of the Lunch

ahh you have lost your lunch bag...

oh well it seems they only have a shelf life of half a year

happy the old lunch box is found

left to fester in a warm school for the holidays

i didn't consider this until i opened the bag

stepped back
and then leaned in

wafting out an odor i can only describe as green
and not in an inviting way

lean in

an unidentifiable element
almost round
completely green
and powdery
like a spawn
an alien
nothing earthy
up until now

no stranger to fungi
as i did do a science fair
on the subject

growing small amount of mold
in tiny baby food jars i keept in the fridge

spores
space ships

lean in
and find
what is this new thing
initially repulsive
not edible for certain

a strange mutation
of an orange tangerine
i conclude

and i am a little less repulsed
a little smitten with this
powdery disolving orbish creature
who i didn't give a name

but
plundged a plastic fork into
and disposed of carefully
incase it was catching

you never know
how things will appear
and the challenge of seeing past
your preconcieved notions

and intense prejudice
of food gone bad!

but given half a chance
the possiblility in that mold
the powder
the green of it

was kinda

well

cool

Reset Button

The last of the Christmas lights

the glitter removed from the wrapping

and left with the contents of a sweet cardboard box
old and familiar

filled with nothing but possiblility
and a little nostalgia in the corners

from the prior restet button
that each year brings with it

resolutions made
and new plans etched out

that my dear friend was last year

this is a new page
a new leaf

an empty delicious plain brown thin cardboard box
to fill
and empty

and watch

and breathe life into

happy we hope always

happy posibility

and sweet and savory