(Note: For the past two years, I’ve made a practice of free-writing something, (anything!)  nearly every morning. I no longer wonder what it’s for, what it “is” or whether or not it makes any sense at all.  Then it’s hit print, and add it to the big three ring binders.   Most of it only exists there, since when my old computer died, it took it all my entries  along with it, so  now I also save copies online, in a private journal space. I’ve no idea why, so don’t even ask!   This morning, it occurred to me it might be ok for me to share an occasional mornings work here, so this is just an  example of what rolls off this keyboard!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I come here empty-headed with not one single thought worth recording, from what I can tell. But still, it’s enjoyable to hear the click of these keys, so will stay awhile and see what wants to be said. My fingers do love to dance on the keys of this neat little keyboard, that has only the keys I need, and none of that fancy stuff.

It no longer matters  WHAT I write, only that I DO write, within the first hour of awakening, no matter what time of day it is. It’s what jump starts all other life systems, so it seems, anyway. That brings me an image of the old cars that needed to be cranked up before the motor can start, and..what?…bees?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wander around a rather empty life
(or so it must look to others)
but it doesn’t feel empty to me
it just feels like free and open space
in which I may rest or labor as I choose
like an very old bee in a big field of clover
I meander from blossom to blossom, sipping
nectar of my choice, while others tend to
the work of it all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There’s this place down by the railroad tracks
behind the building next door, where I often sit
amidst the weeds, wildflowers, and fallen trees
that have yet to be cleared away to make room for
more progress, and with little effort, can imagine
myself far our in deeper woods, alone with nature,
and so,  for a few moments I can be.. unobserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wintertime looms, the cold days confine,
the imagination must labor to place me where
I need to go to find greeness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sounds of life change so much with the years:
the reassuring click and clatter of a  rollator
tell me this is one more day of not being alone

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another neighbor has died, an old man
who caused me much grief awhile ago
I am too honest to say I will miss him
because I won’t
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To my right stands a black plastic thing
called a desktop organizer
it has six large slots and four cubbyholes
and it is choking to death as we speak
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just spilled coffee all down my front
because I had the cups lid on backwards
and it doesn’t even matter
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I spy a small book in my clutter
that is calling me. Oh,I thought it
was one of my meditation books,
but instead,it was Roberts Rules Of order
left over from days when
I thought I needed that shit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pile of clutter that lives
on the shelf to my right, is somewhat
interesting in it’s composition,
an exercize band sits atop
Pema Chodrens book titled “When
Things Fall Apart”, and under that
likes Matt’s book, “A River in Winter”,
beside those is the old three hole punch
I lifted from some long ago workplace,
and beyond that, a stack of saved papers
holding up a picture frame, a white candle in
a bronze holder, a small raggety clay figure
Holly made of Betty Bag, a brilliant yellow
sunflower lapel from the Singer Days, behind that
the stained glass turtle, two jars of pens and brushes
and in the corner, a big clay pot from which grow
beautiful bare tree branches embedded in river rocks,
why, I could spend the rest of my natural life
just writing about what I can see
from right where I am.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And here it is, that deep calm place
where the Muse always leads me, when I
can remember to step aside and let it
lead the way…
I love you, Muse,
you are the best part
of me

In spite of serious threats to my sanity (and my precious screen name!),  and more hours than I care to admit, I have PREVAILED in my war with WordPress, with the help of whisel and Diane. It took a prolonged  battle with Yahoo to reclaim that emial addy, which they won,   (so who needs YOU, yahoo?!? ) then another long negotiation with a new emial provider, and the creation of the third incarnation of “scribe”, but at long last, I am detached from the  long dead blog that was stalking me, and free, once again, to inflict myself on all you lucky folks!   I came here as scribe40, then became vintagescribe, and this time it’s scribeliveson!  (HA! Take THAT, WORDPRESS!   Can’t kill off this ol scribe with yer cyber-shennigans!)  Not yet, anyway.

I do think there is a limit ahead to my tolerance of techie snafu’s.  Computer troubles, cable access issues, cable box issues,  totally incomprehensible tangles like the one here that caused me to have to completely reinvent myself again., I have a hunch there could be some “last straw” ahead that may well tip me over the edge. At that point I may go out and buy a Red Chief Pencil Tablet, some number two pencils, and return to my beginnings!  (I might break the lead in my pencil, but I knew how to deal with THAT! )

Back then, there was nothing I couldn’t fix with my swiss army knife.  I even understood how cars were built, and how to change my oil and sparkplugs.  The phone was a study black box with a dial that worked ALL the time, without ever having to be plugged into an outlet.  Never once did I wish it could also take pictures. I had another black box that did that, and I knew exactly how to operate IT also. You don’t want me to tell you what I think of the new digital camera, nope, you really don’t.

Anyway, thanks Di and whisel, and ONward we go.. for awhile longer!

Went to the Doc yesterday for this bronchitis. Big notice on the outer door: If you have any respiratory problems, or cough, fever, sore throat, headache, you must use the hand sanitizer inside this door and put on a face mask. Wow, finally some smart behaviors being developed. Waiting rooms are undoubtedly filled with germs, and hacking/coughing patients are generous with their airborne pathogens. Plus the health care workers do not want to get sick on your behalf. This should be standard procedure, even without the threat of swine flu.

Hopefully, hospitals are taking the same precautions. I may buy a box of these face masks and keep them on-hand for the next time I have to go to a clinic/hospital for tests, procedures. The thought of ever being hospitalized again scares me, cuz it’s a pathological war zone in there.

Be well. Stay safe. Wash your hands.

 Best wishes, Whisel*  ….. masked and armed 

Just a jot to remember the what in what’s happening and the ‘what’ in what is it I need to do. Oh I don’t have a complicated life, really, but I do have a one-track brain of sorts.  Anything more than an original idea or commitment needs to have a colorful jot in my notebook.

The happy place I want to be, almost always and with every energy second is in front of a blank page or canvas. I may or may not make anything. But I do love sitting there and being thrilled with the possibility. haha… 

So I jot things down: to do, to be, to consider…

J is for January. I will be 65 then. I need to know what Medicare health/prescription plan will benefit me in 2010. My own plan has more than doubled in cost and dropped my major prescription. I may not have complicated life, but somethings are completely crazy anyway. I’ll just jot that down… and call on the heavens for a revelation.

J is for Janitor. Litter-boxes and laundry. Hm…. that almost converts it to an L word, doncha think?

J is for Juicer. I bought one of those blend masters awhile ago. I need to get it out of the box, soon, someday. I don’t even know if it works. Anyone else order anything and kinda work the unopened box into your furniture theme?  I’d better do this soon or J will be fore Jeopardy, meaning I invested almost $200 in a cardboard box.

J is for Joints. I’d better get with my daily exercise shuffle or I’ll be as brittle as a winter pine. Seriously, I think I’ll prioritize this with a red post it. 

J is for Jibber-Jabber…. I need to do less talking/typing and moving and meandering. I think I’ll tape this one to my forehead.  Oh gosh, I’m out of post-it notes!  Does this mean….. um….  that I have to actually get up? vacate my seat? and physically put myself in contact with my day???  Wow, I may even go for a stroll.

Oh wait a minute… J is for Jinx… actually bronchitis or some sort of respiratory infection going on now which will require a doctor visit tomorrow. So J is for Jarring and Jangly right now…. until I get those antibiotics…. and pick up more post it notes. 

And whenever possible, whether things are going well or not… J is for Joy. For me, it’s an internal choice rather than some external arrangement outside of my control. So have a good evening or a pleasant moment as you read this and maybe manage a little smile.

And always…..Best wishes in your numeric or alphalogical travels. Whisel*

If you have read any of my mis/adventures in the kitchen before you might suspect what is coming.
Yesterday I decided to make peanut butter fudge, I had made it several weeks ago and all went well, so I expected no problems with this venture. But, not so good, it crystallized, so I tried cooking it again.  This time it was runny so I put it in microwave for a few more minutes. It was still partially crystallized so shoot what to do?????
Light bulb goes on, what about that vanilla brownee recipe, what about using the fudge for the sugar, it already had the walnuts in it, so I went for it. It’s in the oven baking now so I will add in the results here when it’s done.

My second mis this week: this time it was cinnamon rolls. I started the dough that I’ve made a dozen times before and after 45 minutes it only rose a tiny amount, (apparently I killed the yeast) so what to do. I decided to go ahead with the “rolls” which now became a doughy gob with cinnamon, walnuts and so on, striated throughout like some sort of marble cake and into the oven it went, what will come out? Results, it was very thick and tough , but slightly edible, however I could not eat more than a tiny bit. I tried in vain to think of a recycle for this but have not come up with anything.
So if you were me would you give up cooking, stick with frozen food, eat out, what? LOL

I am happy that I could go out today and run errands. I am thankful for the drive-thrus at several places, so I don’t have to exit the car. I am thankful for handicapped parking spaces and scooters in grocery stores. A strong November sun pushes away the clouds, making my path bright today. Not too terribly crowded in spite of entering the lanes with the busy Weekenders.

People were helpful. People were preoccupied. An then….. finished at last. My mind is ticking off it’s concerns as I finally scramble back down the hallway, home at last… to the coffee pot and the cats. always underfoot. My beloved friend in Texas celebrating his birthday yesterday. Permanently blind from a stroke 3 years ago. I call him and wrap my wishes around him as he sleepily thanks me for remembering him. For as long as my memory serves, I will remember him.

A package arrives. “The Oversoul Seven Trilogy”…. 545 pages which I can’t wait to explore. But, patience, patience…. I need to finish “Elaine and Bill” and the “Edgar Cayce Primer” before I go head over heels into my next alternate reality.   And I do love these *soul journeys* I take when I open a fascinating book.

I sit quietly …. sending courage and healing to all my loved ones miles away. That they are comforted, embraced by a loving energy as they continue on their path. I see the Path as so many stepping stones in a river. Some are wide and stable flat rocks, good for balancing. Others are small and slippery, easy to chuck one’s journey into the drink. The experience of growing and learning is irregular in steps, leaps and tumbles. All of the paths are important, each one says: This way…. enjoy, live, understand, believe, do better, and…. keep moving. I complete my meditation by drawing down the blessings and the Light for each one of us, who in our own way, at our own pace, must find the way home.

And then, rest. Time to grant the favor of lounging horizontal, giving thanks for this jangly skeleton that still offers me an out-and-about periodically, so I can run with the herd on a Saturday afternoon. I hope your day is interesting, your attitude pleasant, and your experiences…. beneficial.

Best Wishes, Whisel*

(to the tune of “Oh Where, Oh Where Has my Little Dog Gone?”)

“Where, oh where has our whisel gone?

Oh where, oh where can she be?

With her whirling sparks and her tinkling joys,

Oh where, oh where can she be?”