It is 1:57 in the morning and I am writing in the dark. I am being kind to my husband who is asleep. Pens are quiet. Turning the page might not be. We'll see.
I cannot see anything that I write. It's possible that I am writing over words already there.
Always, though, it seems we are doing these things.
We write or type words but when they leave our fingers, we don't know where they go. Who reads them? Do they fade into nothingness? Do they disappear in the air?
And aren't we always writing over words, preconceptions, beliefs?
I am writing in the dark but, really, this is not my first experience at it.
We all write into obscurity and hope to find a place among words already there.
JAHD
Flowers in California
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Impressions from This Morning
People get on the bus - their eyes - what will they see today? what do they want to see? what do they fear?
A man walks his dog back home. The dog no longer needs a leash; it follows behind the man. The dog has done this many times and moves more slowly now.
Children jog by outside a school. It's gym class or a running class. They'll feel refreshed later; they don't look happy now.
A woman boards the bus and, instantly, all the fallacies of the beauty industry crumble. her face, softened by the years is beautiful. What stories does she have? Does anyone ask her to tell them? Does anyone listen when she speaks?
The bus moves on, traffic moves in different directions. The city is alive, each of its people precious.
JAHD
A man walks his dog back home. The dog no longer needs a leash; it follows behind the man. The dog has done this many times and moves more slowly now.
Children jog by outside a school. It's gym class or a running class. They'll feel refreshed later; they don't look happy now.
A woman boards the bus and, instantly, all the fallacies of the beauty industry crumble. her face, softened by the years is beautiful. What stories does she have? Does anyone ask her to tell them? Does anyone listen when she speaks?
The bus moves on, traffic moves in different directions. The city is alive, each of its people precious.
JAHD
Monday, February 9, 2015
Listening Within
I have a habit of collecting inspiration quotes. I collect funny quotes too but I don't think the funny quotes are a problem. And while the inspirational quotes may offer good guidance and ideas, I think t here's a limit to how much outside guidance we need to ask for in our lives.
We each have wisdom. If we take a break from paying attention to the cacophony of voices, ideas and hysteria around us, maybe our own inner voices would feel more free to speak. And when we did speak, write, somehow share our thoughts, the world would be better for hearing, reading, knowing them. I am going to take a break from seeking inspiration from quotes. I will listen to myself more. Maybe I will uncover some inspiring words of my own. (Right now I am thinking that I should put my left sock on my foot. That's not really inspiring but it is a good idea to wear two socks. So I'll consider it a good start.)
JAHD
We each have wisdom. If we take a break from paying attention to the cacophony of voices, ideas and hysteria around us, maybe our own inner voices would feel more free to speak. And when we did speak, write, somehow share our thoughts, the world would be better for hearing, reading, knowing them. I am going to take a break from seeking inspiration from quotes. I will listen to myself more. Maybe I will uncover some inspiring words of my own. (Right now I am thinking that I should put my left sock on my foot. That's not really inspiring but it is a good idea to wear two socks. So I'll consider it a good start.)
JAHD
Monday, January 19, 2015
Random Observations on a January Day
1. I bought a new scale. In addition to weight, it shows various statistics about one's body (perhaps even hat size - I can check). I'm interested in this but puzzled as to how the numbers can be accurate. If I stand on the scale with a large (or small) watermelon in my hands, how will the scale now that I'm doing that. It doesn't happen often but it could. And if it does know that you're holding fruit, how does it know what type? At least if it asked (Ma'am - is that a honeydew or a watermelon you're holding onto there?) you'd know it was trying. If it doesn't ask, and acts all snooty like it just knows your body fat and percentage of water regardless of what you're holding, it's not as great a device as it makes itself out to be.
2. For someone who is trying to eat a lot less gluten, I bought way too much cereal for myself over the weekend. And we already had excess cereal in the house. I thought of throwing a cereal party where guests bring their own bowls, we supply spoons and everyone digs in. The invitations would have to be very specific though: I wouldn't want people to show up at the door bringing their own cereal or offering it as hostess gifts. I fear my disdain at the introduction of even more cereal to the house would show. I'd have to warn people against bringing oranges too. We have way too many oranges. Perhaps they could be dessert at the cereal party - I'm never sure what food best pairs with a main course of Cheerios. (And I think that one of the unopened packages of cereal will go to the food bank. Some mistakes end up being beneficial.)
3. When the dishwasher is full of clean dishes, I feel that emptying it will take days of my time, I will not be able to breathe or function in any normal ways while emptying it and that afterwards, I'll have to spend at least another six or seven weeks reloading it and will probably never have a life again beyond the area of the kitchen near the dishwasher. When the dishwasher is empty, however, I am not troubled by the thought of reloading it at all. Even when a sizable crowd of mugs, plates, glasses and cutlery has gathered on the counter (and is starting to get a bit unruly) I am pleased to put them in the dishwasher and feel no sense of impending doom. And I like that. It's never particularly enjoyable to have a sense of impending doom.
4. I know now to include gloves as part of my outfit when attending a social function with dry, irritated hands. Recently, I attended a family dinner without gloves. By the end of the evening, someone had recommended I try her favourite brand of hand cream and had me sample it. By the end of that week, people had purchased two containers of it for me as well as foot cream made by the same manufacturer. My foot care needs hadn't even been discussed and my feet were never visible at the dinner table (that night). I appreciate people's care and concern but I had hand cream at home that I like and once I stopped using a certain soap, my hands were fine. It'll be easier (and more mysterious and that's cool) to wear gloves. Perhaps I should start a business selling "indoor gloves for people whose extended family members insist on taking on their dry skin issues even when the issues are really not all that bad." I will relish both the privacy that the gloves provide me and others like me and the profits my entrepreneurial adventure brings.
5. I had considered a drug store a good place to purchase small Christmas gifts. They have such a variety of items. When I started looking, however, I encountered items such as Gaviscon and Cepacol. I don't know that I'm entirely comfortable giving those items as gifts. There's a chance that someone will be experiencing heartburn on Christmas morning and will consider Gaviscon to be a perfect gift choice. But one can't predict something like that, especially when you live at a distance and can't cook for them in a way that encourages digestive discomfort. Likewise, throat lozenges can provide soothing relief but conditions have to be right for you to appreciate that. Ideally, you have to have a sore throat. And while people may appreciate notebooks and pens and I hope people like soap (I give soap A LOT. I really encourage a clean and fragrant world), massaging gel insoles, bandaids and all manner of products to contain all manner of, um, liquids probably won't light up faces on Christmas morning. So shopping at a drug store for Christmas gifts has limitations. But if you received or gave Gaviscon as a gift, that's great and I hope that there was just the right amount of digestive struggle to make it right for everyone.
6. At some point, I saw wrapping paper at Costco with penguins on it and it seemed like a good idea to buy it. It seems like a good idea to buy lots of things at Costco. Often that turns out to be true. With the wrapping paper, though, the paper was large. It was very large. It still is. I managed to lug it from the basement to my wrapping table. I wanted to use it. It was hard to use it though as the whole role was just so big. I don't want to have to clear out a sizable area around me when I'm going to move the roll, I don't want to fear that someone could get seriously injured if this paper ever rolled off the table and hit them. And I don't want to wrap people's presents so that all they see of a penguin is an arm/wing/flipper/upper right appendage. I was not giving large presents to most people (although thankfully there was a penguin-loving yoga mat recipient in the crowd - that worked out pretty well); the penguins were getting chopped up pretty badly. I learned from this that the scale of things at Costco can be different to the scale of things in my life and home. Costco is ideal for big organizations, big families. Big penguins (probably Emperors and Kings) may like shopping at Costco. For small families and people wrapping small presents, the scale can be off unless you're wrapping a big penguin. Or something like a moose. Then this paper would be good.
Well, it's now a January evening or night and in some places a January morning. Whatever time it is, enjoy it, and I hope you're not suffering any digestive distress. It makes me feel bad that I didn't buy Gavison for anyone after all.
JAHD
2. For someone who is trying to eat a lot less gluten, I bought way too much cereal for myself over the weekend. And we already had excess cereal in the house. I thought of throwing a cereal party where guests bring their own bowls, we supply spoons and everyone digs in. The invitations would have to be very specific though: I wouldn't want people to show up at the door bringing their own cereal or offering it as hostess gifts. I fear my disdain at the introduction of even more cereal to the house would show. I'd have to warn people against bringing oranges too. We have way too many oranges. Perhaps they could be dessert at the cereal party - I'm never sure what food best pairs with a main course of Cheerios. (And I think that one of the unopened packages of cereal will go to the food bank. Some mistakes end up being beneficial.)
3. When the dishwasher is full of clean dishes, I feel that emptying it will take days of my time, I will not be able to breathe or function in any normal ways while emptying it and that afterwards, I'll have to spend at least another six or seven weeks reloading it and will probably never have a life again beyond the area of the kitchen near the dishwasher. When the dishwasher is empty, however, I am not troubled by the thought of reloading it at all. Even when a sizable crowd of mugs, plates, glasses and cutlery has gathered on the counter (and is starting to get a bit unruly) I am pleased to put them in the dishwasher and feel no sense of impending doom. And I like that. It's never particularly enjoyable to have a sense of impending doom.
4. I know now to include gloves as part of my outfit when attending a social function with dry, irritated hands. Recently, I attended a family dinner without gloves. By the end of the evening, someone had recommended I try her favourite brand of hand cream and had me sample it. By the end of that week, people had purchased two containers of it for me as well as foot cream made by the same manufacturer. My foot care needs hadn't even been discussed and my feet were never visible at the dinner table (that night). I appreciate people's care and concern but I had hand cream at home that I like and once I stopped using a certain soap, my hands were fine. It'll be easier (and more mysterious and that's cool) to wear gloves. Perhaps I should start a business selling "indoor gloves for people whose extended family members insist on taking on their dry skin issues even when the issues are really not all that bad." I will relish both the privacy that the gloves provide me and others like me and the profits my entrepreneurial adventure brings.
5. I had considered a drug store a good place to purchase small Christmas gifts. They have such a variety of items. When I started looking, however, I encountered items such as Gaviscon and Cepacol. I don't know that I'm entirely comfortable giving those items as gifts. There's a chance that someone will be experiencing heartburn on Christmas morning and will consider Gaviscon to be a perfect gift choice. But one can't predict something like that, especially when you live at a distance and can't cook for them in a way that encourages digestive discomfort. Likewise, throat lozenges can provide soothing relief but conditions have to be right for you to appreciate that. Ideally, you have to have a sore throat. And while people may appreciate notebooks and pens and I hope people like soap (I give soap A LOT. I really encourage a clean and fragrant world), massaging gel insoles, bandaids and all manner of products to contain all manner of, um, liquids probably won't light up faces on Christmas morning. So shopping at a drug store for Christmas gifts has limitations. But if you received or gave Gaviscon as a gift, that's great and I hope that there was just the right amount of digestive struggle to make it right for everyone.
6. At some point, I saw wrapping paper at Costco with penguins on it and it seemed like a good idea to buy it. It seems like a good idea to buy lots of things at Costco. Often that turns out to be true. With the wrapping paper, though, the paper was large. It was very large. It still is. I managed to lug it from the basement to my wrapping table. I wanted to use it. It was hard to use it though as the whole role was just so big. I don't want to have to clear out a sizable area around me when I'm going to move the roll, I don't want to fear that someone could get seriously injured if this paper ever rolled off the table and hit them. And I don't want to wrap people's presents so that all they see of a penguin is an arm/wing/flipper/upper right appendage. I was not giving large presents to most people (although thankfully there was a penguin-loving yoga mat recipient in the crowd - that worked out pretty well); the penguins were getting chopped up pretty badly. I learned from this that the scale of things at Costco can be different to the scale of things in my life and home. Costco is ideal for big organizations, big families. Big penguins (probably Emperors and Kings) may like shopping at Costco. For small families and people wrapping small presents, the scale can be off unless you're wrapping a big penguin. Or something like a moose. Then this paper would be good.
Well, it's now a January evening or night and in some places a January morning. Whatever time it is, enjoy it, and I hope you're not suffering any digestive distress. It makes me feel bad that I didn't buy Gavison for anyone after all.
JAHD
At Christmastime and Beyond
I started writing this entry before Christmas. I hope it still has something to say. We'll see.
In the Christmas season, as throughout the rest of the year, people have worries, sadness, sometimes tragedies. In looking at a small family today, I noticed that the father didn't look happy. Sitting with his wife, a small child and a baby, one might in passing, consider his life to be charmed. When we see babies, children, we might think things are all good. But there can be worries, there can be real concerns. Even at Christmas. It's not all trips to see Santa and smiles and toys for young families. It's not all happy visits and good food and fun gifts for adults. There can be sadness too; there can be pain, there can be missing people and there can be emotional trips in one's mind back over the years.
We cannot, much as we would wish, stop the "slings and arrows," to quote Shakespeare, of life from flying around and hitting people sometimes. Christmas can't and doesn't stop it, nor does being good or working hard or getting a good sleep. We're humans and we're vulnerable and it seems, at least, that all this kind of stinks.
What we can do to soften the blows from the injuries people incur in life? I hope that, because of Christmas and the love shown by Jesus whose birth we celebrate that day, we can learn to offer our love to those who need it, and really we all do. I hope as well that Christmas does not, with its memories, its expectations, hurt people already be feeling pain. Rather, I hope that in quiet moments by Christmas trees, and in acts of kindness and of love, people can find healing, peace and hope.
Christmas is over for this year now. I hope it has brought goodness to you in whatever form you need it.
Take care, my friends. All the best for peace and healing and hope and joy after the holiday season as well.
JAHD
In the Christmas season, as throughout the rest of the year, people have worries, sadness, sometimes tragedies. In looking at a small family today, I noticed that the father didn't look happy. Sitting with his wife, a small child and a baby, one might in passing, consider his life to be charmed. When we see babies, children, we might think things are all good. But there can be worries, there can be real concerns. Even at Christmas. It's not all trips to see Santa and smiles and toys for young families. It's not all happy visits and good food and fun gifts for adults. There can be sadness too; there can be pain, there can be missing people and there can be emotional trips in one's mind back over the years.
We cannot, much as we would wish, stop the "slings and arrows," to quote Shakespeare, of life from flying around and hitting people sometimes. Christmas can't and doesn't stop it, nor does being good or working hard or getting a good sleep. We're humans and we're vulnerable and it seems, at least, that all this kind of stinks.
What we can do to soften the blows from the injuries people incur in life? I hope that, because of Christmas and the love shown by Jesus whose birth we celebrate that day, we can learn to offer our love to those who need it, and really we all do. I hope as well that Christmas does not, with its memories, its expectations, hurt people already be feeling pain. Rather, I hope that in quiet moments by Christmas trees, and in acts of kindness and of love, people can find healing, peace and hope.
Christmas is over for this year now. I hope it has brought goodness to you in whatever form you need it.
Take care, my friends. All the best for peace and healing and hope and joy after the holiday season as well.
JAHD
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Puddles and Plants and Stuff
As I sit here, I am looking at a puddle of water that has formed outside the plant I watered moments ago. As well, I can see a tray. If the plant were sitting on the tray, the water would not have leaked. Oh, what a simple solution. Oh, what a puddle to clean up.
OK, I solved that problem.
While I did solve that problem, I wonder what I can learn from yet another small domestic blunder. Am I to be reminded of how simple preventive measures can make life so much easier? Am I to question if, indeed, some people really aren't capable of handling the responsibilities of a house and need to employ domestic help, whatever the expense? Or am I just to realize that there is too much going on in this house, too much lying around, too many things that take up space and require attention but which don't advance the cause of anyone in this house or in society? Do I even want plants? Maybe. But do I enjoy them or merely toss some water at them once in a while out of a sense of duty and hope the water lands within the pots?
I'm about to read a book about an apparently great system of tidying up, once and for all. I hope this approach works. I feel that there is stuff around me in this house that is not serving my purposes anymore. Why do we try to hang on? I think I should let at least some of this stuff go.
And the next time I am in IKEA, near the end of the store, parched from thirst and bewildered by thoughts of what I may still want or not want to buy, I will try to stop myself from buying yet another plant. Buying one won't make me an indoor plant person. Nor improve my life in countless (nor even countable) ways. There are artificial plants in that section too. Maybe one of them is a better option. Or, I could take a few steps back and buy a picture frame. It may end up in a pile with the other picture frames whose sizes don't match any pictures you've ever taken or seen or bought but it won't require watering and it's not dangerous like a candle. Yes, perhaps I should stick to picture frames. I've amassed quite a nice collection.
And soon, I will go and stare at my plants. Perhaps I will realize that they are more wonderful than I had realized. Perhaps I will notice that there are more puddles and, since I can't hire a staff, I should probably buy some absorbent cloths. Or picture frames. Or something. Just not more indoor plants.
JAHD
Monday, December 22, 2014
Recommitting - and Connecting Anew
I did a little bit of thinking about this blog and, really, the purpose of it. I determined what that purpose going forward will be.
I want to connect with people again. Whether you're a new or old reader here, I will write solely again so that we can connect with each other.
Stay tuned and I hope that you are enjoying your Christmas preparations and/other holiday celebrations!
Joanne
I want to connect with people again. Whether you're a new or old reader here, I will write solely again so that we can connect with each other.
Stay tuned and I hope that you are enjoying your Christmas preparations and/other holiday celebrations!
Joanne
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
While I Wait for My Coffee to Cool
My coffee's too hot but I feel like if I don't have coffee, I might not be able to go on and I could add milk or even water to cool it down but milk doesn't always taste good in coffee and adding water sounds weird but if adding water enabled me to go on, perhaps it would be worth it but it's so hard to say because I don't have nearly enough coffee in me, just a few searingly hot sips, and I may have spilled some of this hot liquid as I transferred it to the end table over the disproportionately high chesterfield/couch/sofa arm and I'm never sure what I should call this piece of furniture but it probably doesn't matter - the height of its arms are more of an issue - and there could be an inland lake of coffee down there on the table but I'd have to look way, way down to see it and it doesn't matter right now anyways because until I drink some of that coffee, I'm not going to wipe up the coffee spill because I'll be sitting here waiting for the heat to escape that coffee and I think I actually have some notion of that element of physics right - heat escapes - even though physics was not my thing but I went down swinging and Mr. Munro was a nice teacher and he never came right out and said that I should give up - he always seemed to be looking at some far-off point in the future when students like I would finally see the light or at perhaps at the time when he would no longer have to deal with us - and, oh, high school science wasn't good for me but thinking like that doesn't get coffee into me this morning so, it maybe okay now to secure the system of ropes and pulleys to bring my coffee up to me and see if the temperature of it has cooled sufficiently that I can drink some of it and obtain the power I need to be able to go on.
JAHD
JAHD
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Thoughts of Hunger and Other Stuff While on A Plane
Last week I flew to Toronto. I jotted down thoughts as the flight progressed. My son contributed some of his thoughts too. I will share them with you now. I was pretty hungry when I wrote them. It did start off as a way for me to try to calm down. The massive security line-up and slow boarding had been unpleasant. No hats were harmed or eaten during the flight (as far as I know.)
I struggle, as I sit here, to find my center, to find my peace. I don't understand how it can take that long to board a plane. The thing I don't get is that these people must do this quite regularly and yet it all seems new. Maybe this (writing) is how I relax. Maybe this is how I center myself. Who knows?
I don't particularly enjoy bumps when I'm in a plane. What are we hitting? It makes all that science stuff a little too real. Contained in the plane and away. The wonder, the joy of flying.
Where's my pretzel bag? I was savagely hungry when I received them. Did I eat the bag? Oh man, I can just imagine when the flight attendant comes for garbage. She'll say "I know I gave you pretzels - what'd you do with the bag?" And I won't have a good explanation.
I could look at the on-board menu but my experience on planes has led me to believe that those menus are fictional. Is that fiction? There are pictures of real food but it's not food that is available on the plane. A work like that is kind of in its own genre.
Oh, I wonder if that was a mistake. I've put my glass in the seat pocket and now I'm thirsty. I don't want to use that glass again but fear that the flight attendant won't want to give me another one after the pretzel bag incident. I can produce the first glass so it's not that she'll think I ate it too but that whole thing may have turned her against me.
I was hungry in the airport. Oddly, while there were 14,000 people in the security line, the food area beyond security was not busy. And while I had wanted food that could be purchased quickly and would revive me, the service was slow and the food was not good. I didn't feel revived; I felt like I'd eaten bad food. It was quite disappointing.
Dehydration is starting to overtake me. The crew may be willing to serve me coffee as that would require a different type of cup. I hope that one flight attendant is ready to move on from the pretzel bag incident. Some time has passed. Perhaps we can begin again.
With hope I will look at the menu much as a child plays with a toy. I know it not real but briefly, it may bring me joy.
I have found a meal I want. I will retrieve my credit card and dream of the chance that I may receive the food I saw pictured.
The flight is going quickly. This cheers me.
The flight attendants just passed. I could have fought for my turkey and brie sandwich but they made no indication that we could order food. I don't have the moral strength to pursue the matter.
Nourishment still eludes me.
Words that describe the current situation: Shocked, Saddened, Betrayed, Bullied. And hungry. I feel them all.
I look at a member of my family who is sleeping. I resent him for the peace he experiences. But I will not disturb his slumber.
A brief game of "I Spy" with another family member proved confusing and controversial. We now know that this game can be played within a darkened plane. It doesn't make one feel less hungry, however.
I no longer hope that food will be offered despite all of those attractive food options I saw in the menu. Alas, it matters not what sandwich I chose.
Having given up on food service, I look at the backs of people's heads in front of me. I learn very little about them from this activity. I'm okay with that. From this vantage point, at least, they don't look like an interesting or inspiring group.
The seat of the person right in front of me is reclined very far. I could start stroking the man's hair if I felt a need to do that. I do not feel that need. He has nice hair though and I do not feel rage at his invasion of my space. Perhaps my hunger has rendered me too weak to feel strong emotions of any sort at this time.
A sleeping passenger across the aisle has removed his hat. He clings to it though. He should; it's a stylish hat. His appearance is different when he is hatless. I wonder what he looks like when awake. He has spent so much time sleeping I have not had a chance to find this out. Perhaps he is so hungry he cannot stay awake. I would not be surprised to see him munching on his hat soon.
While famished, I enjoy the peace on board right now. No one is in the aisle serving food (obviously) or drink and the flight is smooth.
While I know that flight attendants may have duties of which I am unaware, I notice that this flight seems to have a large number of them when one considers the service that has been provided.
Accepting that food will not be provided, I put my credit card and the menu away. Perhaps the garbled message near the start of the flight was intended to convey some information about the food and some unpleasant fate that had befallen it. Perhaps it is best not to know what happened.
Reaching down to put my credit card in my purse, I find that my foot is caught in one of the purse's handles. While it takes some effort to free it that is visible to other passengers, I am grateful that I learned this before I tried to get out at some point only to fall down in the aisle. I might have disturbed the sleeping man with the hat. I might have reignited the fury of the flight attendant who had tried to retrieve my pretzel bag. Neither of those things happened and that is good.
In my famished state, I glance at the map and believe that we have gotten close to Hudson and/or James Bay. This has not happened nor should it. I sort that out and come closer to figuring out where we are. It's good that we are nearing our destination; I really need to eat.
Beginning our descent, I try to accept the lack of food provided and aim to find food within the airport. A chocolate bar (or wrapper) would do. At this point, eating at least one of those items, oh, it is my biggest dream.
JAHD
I struggle, as I sit here, to find my center, to find my peace. I don't understand how it can take that long to board a plane. The thing I don't get is that these people must do this quite regularly and yet it all seems new. Maybe this (writing) is how I relax. Maybe this is how I center myself. Who knows?
I don't particularly enjoy bumps when I'm in a plane. What are we hitting? It makes all that science stuff a little too real. Contained in the plane and away. The wonder, the joy of flying.
Where's my pretzel bag? I was savagely hungry when I received them. Did I eat the bag? Oh man, I can just imagine when the flight attendant comes for garbage. She'll say "I know I gave you pretzels - what'd you do with the bag?" And I won't have a good explanation.
I could look at the on-board menu but my experience on planes has led me to believe that those menus are fictional. Is that fiction? There are pictures of real food but it's not food that is available on the plane. A work like that is kind of in its own genre.
Oh, I wonder if that was a mistake. I've put my glass in the seat pocket and now I'm thirsty. I don't want to use that glass again but fear that the flight attendant won't want to give me another one after the pretzel bag incident. I can produce the first glass so it's not that she'll think I ate it too but that whole thing may have turned her against me.
I was hungry in the airport. Oddly, while there were 14,000 people in the security line, the food area beyond security was not busy. And while I had wanted food that could be purchased quickly and would revive me, the service was slow and the food was not good. I didn't feel revived; I felt like I'd eaten bad food. It was quite disappointing.
Dehydration is starting to overtake me. The crew may be willing to serve me coffee as that would require a different type of cup. I hope that one flight attendant is ready to move on from the pretzel bag incident. Some time has passed. Perhaps we can begin again.
With hope I will look at the menu much as a child plays with a toy. I know it not real but briefly, it may bring me joy.
I have found a meal I want. I will retrieve my credit card and dream of the chance that I may receive the food I saw pictured.
The flight is going quickly. This cheers me.
The flight attendants just passed. I could have fought for my turkey and brie sandwich but they made no indication that we could order food. I don't have the moral strength to pursue the matter.
Nourishment still eludes me.
Words that describe the current situation: Shocked, Saddened, Betrayed, Bullied. And hungry. I feel them all.
I look at a member of my family who is sleeping. I resent him for the peace he experiences. But I will not disturb his slumber.
A brief game of "I Spy" with another family member proved confusing and controversial. We now know that this game can be played within a darkened plane. It doesn't make one feel less hungry, however.
I no longer hope that food will be offered despite all of those attractive food options I saw in the menu. Alas, it matters not what sandwich I chose.
Having given up on food service, I look at the backs of people's heads in front of me. I learn very little about them from this activity. I'm okay with that. From this vantage point, at least, they don't look like an interesting or inspiring group.
The seat of the person right in front of me is reclined very far. I could start stroking the man's hair if I felt a need to do that. I do not feel that need. He has nice hair though and I do not feel rage at his invasion of my space. Perhaps my hunger has rendered me too weak to feel strong emotions of any sort at this time.
A sleeping passenger across the aisle has removed his hat. He clings to it though. He should; it's a stylish hat. His appearance is different when he is hatless. I wonder what he looks like when awake. He has spent so much time sleeping I have not had a chance to find this out. Perhaps he is so hungry he cannot stay awake. I would not be surprised to see him munching on his hat soon.
While famished, I enjoy the peace on board right now. No one is in the aisle serving food (obviously) or drink and the flight is smooth.
While I know that flight attendants may have duties of which I am unaware, I notice that this flight seems to have a large number of them when one considers the service that has been provided.
Accepting that food will not be provided, I put my credit card and the menu away. Perhaps the garbled message near the start of the flight was intended to convey some information about the food and some unpleasant fate that had befallen it. Perhaps it is best not to know what happened.
Reaching down to put my credit card in my purse, I find that my foot is caught in one of the purse's handles. While it takes some effort to free it that is visible to other passengers, I am grateful that I learned this before I tried to get out at some point only to fall down in the aisle. I might have disturbed the sleeping man with the hat. I might have reignited the fury of the flight attendant who had tried to retrieve my pretzel bag. Neither of those things happened and that is good.
In my famished state, I glance at the map and believe that we have gotten close to Hudson and/or James Bay. This has not happened nor should it. I sort that out and come closer to figuring out where we are. It's good that we are nearing our destination; I really need to eat.
Beginning our descent, I try to accept the lack of food provided and aim to find food within the airport. A chocolate bar (or wrapper) would do. At this point, eating at least one of those items, oh, it is my biggest dream.
JAHD
Saturday, November 1, 2014
On Tomatoes, A Toaster and the Potential for Fire in the Morning
"What if the tomatoes catch fire?" That was one of my earliest thoughts after I got up this morning. I'm probably not the only one who dislikes dealing with a tomato-related fire at the start of the day. I was making toast. The tomatoes were in a plastic container near the toaster. We've had problems with the toaster before. There's been smoke. What if the toaster took aim at the tomatoes? I can't be sure its intentions are good. I don't really feel I know that toaster at all. As well, I don't know the chemical compounds that tomatoes and plastic could form. I'm not eager to discover them. The tomatoes wouldn't have have been a loss. They're aging. They're not aging well. The fire would have been a concern. If we were able to extinguish or at least contain it, we'd have to reassure ADT that all was well. I don't know the weekend fire alarm people at ADT well. It would be worse if we were unable to control the fire. I'd have to let ADT send the fire department this time. I'd miss out on my toast. The tomatoes didn't catch fire. That's good. My husband's reaction to the whole issue, when I recounted my concerns later, was "Why didn't you move the tomatoes?" It's likely that man will never be the one responsible for letting a kitchen fire start in our house. I admire that in him. But while he is moving potentially flammable objects away from dangerously hot small appliances, I'll be the one seeing the possibilities in situations and stopping to consider them, even as the threat of fire looms around me. Perhaps there is value in that too. Perhaps there's really not. Safe toasting to all, both the practical and the more contemplative among us! And happy tomatoes too!
JAHD
JAHD
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)