Small Day

( invisiblegreen )

This day so quiet and

small, full of tiny

accomplishments,

like

a good night's sleep

despite

pollen-clogged airways,

a couple new bras,

a vacuumed floor,

an opening rosebud,

a silent sunset.

Is this

what life is for?

If I measure my days 

by material accomplishments,

today was a bust, but

if I measure my accomplishments

by pleasure given,

this is what I gained today:

a smile from the elderly woman

next door when I stopped

to chat; a gradual relaxation

from the trembling hands

of the cashier who wrapped

my new lingerie (she was

my student once: a shy girl

embarrassed by seeing

what her teacher wears

underneath.

I remembered her name,

and her major, and actually

made her laugh, and the trembling

stopped); a purr

of contentment from the cat 

as I brushed her; another purr

from the other

when I shared my lamb

at dinner.  A check

to help my landlady

with necessary repairs.

A quiet sunset, joy from a song I've always loved to hear.

And this poem,

if you can call it that.

Indeed this day -- 

this small, quiet day --

has been a booming success.

Long Play

So,

please don't

be upset with me --

(I suspect you'll be relieved)

this is no intense

essay on the meaning of life, the world,

and everything.

I call those "channellings",

and this is not one

of them.

I am certain I lose readers when I do those channellings

those long,

long riffs -- and I'm grateful to those of you

who remain with me.

They're getting harder to do,

because what was meant to be said

in them,

has been said.

For the most part.
(But there may be more to come --
it's not something I have a terrific amount of control
over.)

For now, all I'm going to say

is that we should all learn to love life,

now, peacefully,

if we want to keep living life

as we know it.

That's all we can do.

happybirthdaypeace

So, in my own attempt

to learn to live life fully and happily

every single fucking lonely day

I decided to do a cleaning out of my stuff.

My goal:

to make sure that everything in my current house

is something I actually use and/or can use

in the near future.

Otherwise,

it's getting thrown out.

insideoscal

You see, I've moved so very much,

and accumulated stuff

all along the way,

and I've actually moved old stuff with me.

I'm talking old stuff, 

like this 30+ year old Sony TV

sitting behind me at this very moment.

It was always a good TV,

and it worked right up until

the change from switch

from analog to digital.

I'm bound and determined

to get it working this summer,

and I will.

The other thing I've carried around with me

-- also a Sony --

is a turntable,

that I bought in about

1983.

Seriously.

I've been absolutely convinced that

I would one day again

use it to

play the two boxes of albums I've also been carrying around with me

for the past thirty years,

or so.

Well, in my current abode, I have a room

that needs to be furnished,

and all my spare furniture includes

an old TV and my turntable,

and two boxes of albums.

hanskesteloo

So this past week I finally did it,

I went out to the nearby Radio Shack and bought

a receiver and speakers.

I took the first receive back
(I think it was a Panasonic):
it was a nightmare to set up and figure out,

and when I did figure it out,

I could not get either my turntable or my iPod

to work with it.

There I was: I had paid $200 dollars for this sucker,

and I was already thinking about the other components
I would have to buy to get it
to make due;

and then I got furious at my self: 

Why make due?  Why keep some crappy piece of equipment

that probably won't last even half

as long as my Sonys?

And I took it back,

and got

another receiver -
this one is a Sherwood -
that

not only plays my iPod, but also

my nearly 30 year old Sony turntable

is currently working as well as it ever did,

and me,

I'm a happy woman, listening to my old

Ricki Lee Jones collection,

and feeling like I found

a part of me again.