Tweeted Twaddle: A Blog Post “Written” Without Doing Much Of Anything

•  I can’t see straight today.  My April allergies are in full swing making my eyes itchy & watery.  This happens every year, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.  Now does it?

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•  Because I refuse to stop reading while my vision is blurry, I have set my Kindle’s font to old-people-rheumy-eyed large.  It’s a feature on there. Really.

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•  Naturally, while reading I became a bit peckish so I tried a new-to-me snack.  I did not like it, so I had to share this fact on Twitter.  That’s what Twitter is for, right?

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•  So in closing of this eclectic [some would say filler] post, I leave you, my gentle readers, with this tweet of creative writing in which I summarize what I wish was going on outside today.  Because a girl can dream. Yes?

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The Bean Abides

A Poem on the Occasion of the Beginning of my 12th Year in the Blogosphere

• • •

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• • •

I started small because I didn’t know,

What to expect from this blogging show.

My friends in real life ignored my blog dream,

It made me so mad that I wanted to scream.

But continuing on I wrote each day,

Knowing that others would head this way.

• • •

My mantra simple, my goals were clear:

Give the readers a story to cheer.

“I will not whine, nor over-share,

I will show up and rarely swear.

I am authentic, I refuse to mock, 

I enjoy learning, and taking stock.”

• • •

Perspicacious am I, willing to share,

Light of heart, but still I care.

Nuanced and nutty, in equal part,

I have been quirky, right from the start.

Stick-to-itiveness, I think you’ll agree,

Is the word that best describes me.

• • •

Free-spirited, niche-less, with content well-written,

Yet editors varied with me are not smitten.

No Freshly Pressed badge, will you see here,

It seems what I write, they just do not hear.

But now gentle readers, in you I confide,

No matter what happens, the Bean will abide.

• • •

A special thanks to la peregrina at Santiago Dreaming who’s been here with me from the beginning AND to Margaret at Stargazer who’s been around here for almost as long.  You both paid attention to me when no one else did– and helped me, a reserved introvert, gain the confidence to keep on writing.  Love you both.

[H/T to D. Parker at yadadarcyyada whose wonderful post “Why I Will Never Be Freshly Pressed” put me in a mind to write this poem.]

In The Spirit Of Gardening, I Am

IMG_0008We have no pansies in our planting beds this spring.

I don’t know where my mind was last fall, but it wasn’t on planning ahead for pops of color, courtesy of pansies, around the house.

My bad.

No, instead, the little bit of color that we have in the planting beds is from a few bedraggled, unenthusiastic, ancient daffodils who look like they’re huddled together outside taking a smoke.

If they could speak, they’d be talking in an old guy NJ accent, asking each other for a light.  “Hey, Murray!  You got a lighter over dere?  Whatcha say you lets me use it.  Tanks, buddy.”

I feel that I’m working with the landscape crew in spirit.

The crew started our spring cleanup yesterday, but it takes them a day or two to complete our property.  When we used to do the clean up ourselves it took us at least 4 weekend days, working together for 8 hours each day, to get this yard looking snazzy.

Too much for us.

So today while the crew is making things tidy outside, I’m inside perusing garden websites and gardening catalogues.  It’s amazing how many plants and garden doodads we need when I apply myself to the task of helping the landscape crew in this way.

And that, kids, is what’s going on around here.  I’m waiting for the big reveal after the landscape crew finishes, feeling that this expensive indulgence is worth the price.  And I’m grooving on the idea that when you get down to it, middle age has its perks.  

A Quiet Sunday Afternoon At Home With A Patient On The Mend

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“Ms. Bean, what the heck are you doing this weekend? I see you messing around with frozen peas. Now if it was peanuts I’d understand, but peas? Please explain, I’m all ears.”

•  Looking out the window today I see, beyond an inquisitive squirrel staring in at me, a spring day filled with pale blue sky above leafless gray trees.  A couple of daffodils have made their appearance in the yard, but the forsythia bushes are showing no sign of joining the daffs.

Outside the temperature is in the upper 30s/lower 40s, which is more wintry than springy.  However, I’m not going anywhere today so the weather can do that which it wants to do without me whining about it.

As if I have any control over it to begin with.

•  I’m at home today looking after Zen-Den who had surgery [to correct ptosis] on his eyes on Friday.  His recuperation is going well.  He’s walking around the inside of the house without any trouble, able to see well enough to play Farm Heroes on his iPhone.

And beginning to get bored with the 20 minutes on/20 minutes off post-surgery eye icing schedule.  No longer do the little plastic bags of frozen peas, used to ice his eyes, charm him with their whimsical healing properties.

No, he’s leaning toward grumpy now– and I fear that he’d rather eat the peas than wear them.  But I persevere and follow him around with the little green ice packs, forcing him to use them for at least 10 minutes on/30 minutes off.

This schedule will have to do.

•  And with that I’m off to bake some banana bread.  The surgeon’s office did not specifically mention it as necessary for a proper recuperation, but I figure it can’t hurt.  Zen-Den loves it– and it might just be the thing to coerce him into cooperating with me and those damned little plastic bags of frozen peas.

“If you sit still with your pea packs on for 20 minutes, then you can have a big slice of banana bread afterwards.  Now wouldn’t that be nice?”

Later, kids.  Much to do.