Poly, my sweet and sour muse, has been banging on my head to do some poetry. I have repeatedly told her that kind of thing doesn’t work with me. She thinks she knows better. Maybe she does, but don’t tell her that or I’ll never hear the end of it. Those of you who are not familiar with Poly, my muse, just click on this.
I cannot begin to tell you how much I would love to complain, but I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime, so I’ll spare you. Besides, on thinking through and pondering my life, there really are a lot of wonderful things to be happy about. I mean, who wouldn’t be happy about having a muse bang on her head? Could life be more fun or entertaining, I ask you?
Lately, I’ve been on a diet,
to have less weight on my brittle bones.
Makes sense, I think, so I thought I’d try it
so I swore off my favorites – cakes and ice cream cones.
Of course that’s just the top of the list,
’cause I am an avid and true food afficianado
who also eats the cardboard it came in, and also assist
in my digestion: organic, whole, and non-GMO.
So, really, I’m happy, and up until late
I’ve managed to keep the blues at bay,
But today a simple twist of fate
changed the scales on which I weigh.
The well from which our water springs
has decided to forsake us.
In fact it has brought on ugly things
depositing iron by the ton to take us
not to lovely one-digit sizes
but to weights that make us wonder why
the water we drink has plans and devises
to cause us to weigh ourselves and cry.
My dear Gentle Readers, the above poem is in reference to the extreme amount of iron in our water supply. You know you are arriving at the summt of self-delusion when you blame the water you drink for your weight problems. (But iron is heavy, right?)
During the course of my recent illness, I have come to the concluson that life is a wonderful gift, not to be squandered, wasted, or maligned. Even if it’s a fat life!
There can be a benefit, among many others, to being gravely ill (that’s not hyperbole, I assure you), and that is that pining over such silly things as the opinions of myself and others about my appearance is a complete waste of time. Maybe I have finally laid that “back-monkey” to rest.
I hope so. Arriving at home today after an extended amout of time in hospital, I almost burst into tears over the awesome realization that I was HOME with Ashley, heroine Princess, and our implacable Justin. To quote a young girl (and I did it without the ruby slippers), “There’s no place like home!”
I am trying to keep myself objective and practical in admitting my ordeal of late will likely come around again, but so what? After all, there’s always that proverbial bus around the corner just waiting for arrogant people who think they’re invincible to give them a reality check. So, I am sure Nancy Hatch will be pleased to hear from me that I’m actively and joyfully living in the now. I am alive, healing, rolling around at breakneck speed, and very glad to be home. For anybody, that is certainly enough. . .
(P.S. This post has been floating around in limbo land for some time. Not until today have I discovered why I had filed it away. It means more to me now than it ever would have.)