Feeling in a bit of a daze but I'm sure that a lot of that has to do with the weather.
Over the last six weeks, I feel like I've had to get my act together in a hurry because of the holidays falling on the weekend or bad weather. I think that I've done a pretty good job of figuring out what to cook but I'm running out of ideas. Made Cheesy Chicken Fajitas and used the remainder to make a salad yesterday.
All of this cooking is wearing me out but also makes me think of this poet whose book centered around her brother's death. She wrote: He had washed his last dish.
I'm still here so I guess there are more dishes to wash etc...
Went to 11:00 a.m. yoga and saw one of the women who went on the yoga retreat. It was such a moment of delight because she's a nice person and because it brought up such nice memories...
The teacher at the helm of today's class is new and I totally liked it when she (Tracy) said No one needs anything from you for the next hour. You don't need permission to relax but it's nice to have a cue.
Also liked it when she had us do bee breath (minus the fingers in the ear)...
Wish that I could remember the name of the woman who wrote the poems about her brother's death. Recently someone announced, indirectly, a death in the family on social media and I wanted to leaving a comforting remark. Later on I pulled out You Don't Miss Your Water, a book of poetry by Cornelius Eady. Most of Eady's poems in You Don't... deal with the death of his father.
Fetchin' Bones
My father's a sealed tin of dust, riding in the trunk of
my rental car.
My sister and niece are in the back seat, and I
choose not to inform them of this.
Later, I will meet with my cousin at the church
where the memorial service was held.
I will set the box on the curb while we talk.
I am carting around the rubble of the man who
loved to call me stupid, who made my sister feel like
nothing, who drove my mother nuts.
I have done this in order to shave a few dollars off
the funeral costs, I tell myself, as a small part of me
gives in, fans the smoldering pleasure.
It's always awkward knowing what to say to the bereaved. I think the traditional, trite phrases are best - "I'm sorry for your loss." Because you don't really know how that person feels, you don't know what they think about the deceased, you can't conjecture their emotions.
ReplyDelete"All of this cooking is wearing me out." You and me both.
Yes, someone once told me that cliches say it best. Still, it feels trite but I think most people take it for what it's worth but appreciate the acknowledgment of the loss...
ReplyDeleteI wish we could afford chefs.