I Am This Woman

Inspiration comes in many forms, but I often find myself doing one of two things when I sit down to write.

1. I either sit down to write a thought or turn of phrase I had, which needs some exploration. It might be a title, a pun, a response I have to something I overheard, two ideas that come together in an idle moment. Sometimes, it’s a walk into the neighborhoods of my brain that are dark and scary, uncharted.

OR

2. I hear a message on television or a news story, and I say to myself, “That is precisely the kind of thing I should write.” To me, it is a Really Good Idea that has a complete shape and form, having been fully realized on Oprah or CNN, and all it requires is MY voice, chiming in.

And guess which one is more often than not the most successful seed from which a page or paragraph doth spring? (more…)

Mike The Dog, originally uploaded by tigerwillow.

I can still imagine the texture of his silky woolly wavey hair and the pudge of his pink tummy… already an old man when I first met him, he was patient and wise. And a little obsessive. But a metrosexual dog like this has to be - all that white fur! the pressure to be cute AND manly! living down the trips to the groomers when the guys tease you. Mostly he was a lovely boy who liked a good long snuggle on the couch, a long and verrrry slow walk on the beach and most of all, his human.

Today, his human my friend had to put Mike to sleep because of multiple, hourly seizures. Time had come, and all.

Tonight, I know that Mike is trotting along the beach, leaping at seagulls, barking for no reason, and rolling in nice smelly fish. His life was blessed after his adoption, and his life was a blessing.

His legacy can be a blessing too.

I’m putting away the tree and ornaments this evening. I’m tucking the on-sale special containers back in the garage, stuffed with the ribbons, bags, paper, books, doodads and little orts that come out once a year, and scream “Christmas.” In December, they warm my heart and are so lovely - shiny, red, green, gold, sparkly, kitschy.

In January, their festive air dulls and reads more as clutter. After three weeks, I’m ready to move on. I’ve got a little seed planting project, the dining room needs things hung on the wall, and there’s another wall to paint. I want to move the piano over there, and the TV back over there… get these boxes out to the curb, call someone to come pick up the old couch… (more…)