In which I admit one of my few failings—I'm a class 1 hoarder.
In which I shamelessly brag about my next seven squares in my 365 Granny Squares project.
In which I sing the praises of crochet and talk about my current projects.
In which I show off photos of the work from the first seven days of a granny square/mandala a day.
In which I contemplate crocheted mandalas and life lessons.
Happy New Year everyone! I realize I haven’t been good about posting my own writing for the last few weeks. I’m sorry for that, but I hope that at least everyone has enjoyed the poetry and other reblogs I have shared with you and that you have had a chance to discover someone new to… Continue reading Begin, again. And Granny Square #1
In which I share a thought from the Lithium Chronicles: On Poetry #1 by Nicole Lyons
In which I call on the fierce power of love and decency to change the world and announce my alignment with the forces of good.
Here’s a thoughtful snippet from someone whose brain thinks like mine, but better.
Synapses and Other Conjunctions
My advice? Wear boots, even among the dead.
Our barefoot friend, having separated the rattler’s
head from its body, picked up the six-foot
length to show off, and stepped back onto
the head, which though not alive, still managed
to squeeze venom from the ducts and inject it
through its fangs, into his foot. Consider this
a metaphor, if you must, but don’t belabor
it. This morning I am searching for
connections. The plumber says that when
the overflow is clogged, the sink won’t drain
properly, and I notice similarities between
vision and words and the dryer’s vent — how
twists and hard angles and blurry lint may
confuse the issue, perhaps even start a fire.
And before you say, yes, yes, that’s what
I want, a fire, consider other possibilities,
not to mention consequences. Confuse
one word for another, and you’re an idiot.
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