20160610.0742

I am staying out of the way
I know I do not loom large enough to effect change
To turn the juggernauts from their paths
And I would rather not be
The small detritus
Crushed and driven into the ground
If I can avoid it
Although I know
If I am seen to get out of the way
I become a target
More points accrue for felling the fleeing

20160609.0658

The hills of oak and cedar are unusually green
The recent rains' effect on them thus easily seen
Yet the undergirding limestone structures of the land
Are not so easy to discern from where onlookers stand
We know that under soils thin the white chalk-stone is found
And porous stone that powders, breaks, makes for uneasy ground
If ever tremor shakes it. Though it has not happened yet
That it will never do so--I will never take that bet.

20160608.1306

I always mean to do better
It seems I keep doing worse
What am I doing wrong so damned much of the time?

I clearly do not see it

Did I
I would do better
Or I like to think I would

20160607.0636

I had meant to get up at what had been my regular workday time today. I had meant to take the quiet time before my daughter wakes to get some work done on the freelance piece that awaits me. (My current office arrangement is not conducive to my working while keeping an eye on Ms. 8, and the latter is of more urgency than the former.) But that did not happen; my alarm went off at the appointed time, and my hand slapped the snooze button thereupon before I could rouse enough to recall the plan. It happened twice more; I hauled myself out of bed before it could happen a third. So I began the day behind myself. I have some time to spend on the freelance piece, to be sure, and when I am done writing in this webspace, I will return to working on it; I have research to do, but it should be easily done. Still, it is not a good thing that I start off behind schedule. I need the money much more than I need the delay.

Aside from the small flub, however, things have gone well. I have been quite domestic of late, cooking dinner day after day and doing what I can to keep the house clean. If nothing else, the floors are getting swept daily, and the lawn is freshly mown. Things seem somehow easier at the moment, likely because I am under somewhat less stress than I have previously been. The move does not loom as it did, for one, and there is some assurance of income through my freelance efforts--which are increasing. Too, more support is coming available; among others, I will be picking up my parents as they return from their trip today, and they are pleased to keep an eye on their granddaughter. As such, I will have a bit more room to attend to some of the work that awaits me, including the current freelance piece and the large proofreading job that is coming my way this weekend. (I think I also have a teaching demonstration coming up, which will be helpful. I think I will be talking about citation. It is a good topic for me to cover.)

Ms. 8 still revels in being in the Hill Country. She has been enjoying being around her grandparents' dog, a Dachshund/Chihuahua rescue puppy that joined the family while I was an undergraduate. She has also been enjoying their backyard and the local park--both of which she has gotten to use more often than she had at Sherwood Cottage. (Since I cannot work and keep an eye on her, I keep an eye on her, and that means more play time.) Today, then, between my getting back to work and my getting in the car to pick up her grandparents--and I think Ms. 8 will go with me on that trip--I will make a point of taking her to a place or two to see what all she can see. There will be plenty of time for me to work afterwards, just as there will continue to be plenty of work for me to do. There always is, after all...

20160606.0638

Today marks thirty-five years that my parents have been married. I have marked their anniversary before (here, here, and here), as well as the coincidence of that anniversary with the anniversary of the D-Day assault on Normandy. I remain happy about it, even if I was not able to fund their trip this time--they are enjoying themselves on the East Coast--as I was five years ago, on their thirtieth anniversary. Then, of course, my Mrs. and I had them up in The City and in the best of its boroughs (Brooklyn, just so we're clear), owing to my then-greater access to resources of all sorts. Now, they have my Mrs. and I in their home, as well as their granddaughter, and matters are somewhat changed. But that does not mean I do not wish them well today, as well as on their return trip to the Hill Country, with which I will be helping somewhat. Someone has to get them back from the airport, after all...

Ms. 8 will be glad to see them, I think. She delights in her grandparents, and they in her. She is also adjusting well to life in the Hill Country. Her mother and I are working to that end. Yesterday, for example, we took her to the main local park, where a splash pad and improved playground equipment were installed relatively recently (well after I would have been of an age to use them...). She spent a fair bit of time laughing--shrieking with laughter, really--as she ran around the facilities, even when the footing betrayed her and she fell on the sunlit, water-drenched concrete. When she fell, though, she quickly picked herself up and began to run again; I am pleased to see her resilience, and I think she must have gotten it from her mother. Whatever its source, though, I think it will serve her well in her life to come--not because I wish hardships upon my daughter, but because I know the time will come that she will have to face them, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it.

I can work to ease those hardships, however. Encouraging her resilience is one way. Attending to additional work is another, and there has been some fortunate development to that end. I took on a freelance piece yesterday; it will involve a bit of research for me, but it is the kind of thing at which I excel, so while I expect there will be some investment of time, it is not the kind of time that will pass badly for me. Additionally, I have at least one phone interview today, and I have every intention of going out to fill out another one. Yet others might find their way from me out into the world. One or another of them will, with luck, result in something like a regular job offer so that the Mrs., Ms. 8, and I can return to having an independent home of our own. We are not doing poorly at the moment, to be sure, and I am grateful that we have had the cushion we have had, but it is not the kind of thing that does well to be a long-term arrangement...

20160605.0903

Yesterday
I threaded through the hills of oak and cedar
Crossed rain-swollen creeks and rivers
That rarely show themselves as such
Stood upon ranch-lands
Looked on cattle
Worked with animals
Not because I am any kind of cowboy
But because the in-laws have been
In times past
And they still live where they did then

20160604.0701

I'm sorry, folks,
But this is the kind of thing
I said
Would happen
Because the cats cannot be watched
All hours of the day
We have to sleep
And most of us do so
As one
Together
But the cats do not
And I did not
Not after the one cat
You know which one
Got up on the stand
And knocked over the glass
Onto the tile floor
Backed with concrete.

I cleaned it up
But shattered glass does not respond well to my hands
As we have long known

Like I said,
I am sorry, folks.

2060603.0900

She found a job after little looking
I have any number of applications out
Only one offers promise
And its vow is perhaps not the best
I can have such a job closer to home
Perhaps
If the locals will let me

20160602.0734

April showers may be sweet
And bring May flowers, oh, so neat,
But hail has come with storms in June
That show no sign of ending soon,
And while we welcome water here
The creek-beds growing all too near
Give pause.

            Despite the rain we need,
And hail we don't, we must proceed
About the business of the day.
At least, that is the thing to say.

20160601.0837

As flowers and their month recede
And the summer approaches
I find myself like a bird
Scratching after the rain has gone
But what worm it is that hides from me
What worm it is I seek to feed to others
Regurgitating what I take in
I do not know

Yet