Everything but the kitchen sink

Not really sure what to write about today. The thing is that this kind of writing challenge is for me to get out some things from my fingertips that have been here, deep down, for quite some time but first I have to brush off the dust.

So following are some musings that maybe shouldn’t grace the pages of the internet, but will, all the same.

I’m currently sitting on my bed in my grandparents’ house. I remember the first Christmas (in memory) that I spent here was in first grade. My family was back to the U.S. for furlough from Argentina and it was our first time experiencing snow and ice, this amount of cold, and everything that comes along with Christmas in the Midwestern United States. I also came back from Columbus, where my grandparents live, with a stuffed doll that I called Ginger–a present from my great-grandfather Bus.

I’m not sure what it is about but I think that the cold brings out the worst in people, but sometimes the best.

I put eggnog in my pancakes.

I don’t want to write about any of these things.

How about the feeling that you get when you are driving on the road and the wind is swirling the snow into such geometric patterns that you feel like you are at sea or smoking some kind of potent weed.

Flannel sheets are the best invention ever.

My parent’s neighbors have a wind chime as tall as their house. I hear it every morning and it is the first thing I know when I get up and the last thing that I hear when I drift off to sleep. The first time that I saw it a couple years back I was appalled that such a large wind chime would exist and it was ostentatiously placed on the tree that is directly within eyesight of my parent’s back windows, or half of the windows of the house, including “my” bedroom. The first time I saw it I simply laughed and proclaimed it ridiculous. This time that I made my visit to my parent’s house I have appreciated the deep and grounding sounds such an instrument makes in my bedding down and waking hours.

Talk is cheap, but I don’t know what else to do when I want to go deep, but it seems like there’s nothing really there to anchor me as I dive.

Yesterday in my yoga class a man was breathing loudly the whole time. At the beginning of class he started making some weird grunting noises and I realized that his partner’s mat was right next to his and I knew that I was going to be in for it. He felt himself at home, being that his partner was right there and there were only two other young women in the class (me and someone else) I’m sure he felt as though he could do whatever he wanted in terms of sounds—grunts, loud breathing, exasperated sighs, you name it. The whole while I was trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying and I was trying to imagine myself calm and collected no matter what was in my presence. This is what yoga teaches and sometimes I can be really hard-pressed to really take these things to heart. People eating loudly, or more than a little bit of dirtiness in the wrong spot can turn me into an OCD individual real quick. I don’t mean the DSM-IV type, but just in general, I am pretty persnickety when it comes to certain things.

I am learning important life lessons during this small rendezvous to the Midwest. My centering point. Coming back to the fulcrum to then have the pendulum swing right or left again, depending on the wind.

A conversation during New Year’s Eve had me talking about Hoosiers, you know, those people from Indiana. I told people at the bar that one thing that I missed about “living” in California is that people there were a lot more distant, less friendly, they take their time in warming up to just about anyone. I appreciate this about Hoosiers and most Midwesterners in general. It seems as though one of my stereotypes of the Midwest is that its citizens are very conscientious about making people feel at home, they are friendly, they dive right into small talk, and they don’t skip a beat. “This makes me tired,” my best friend from high school comments, “sometimes I wish I could just not say ‘hi’ and simply be on my way.”

“You got to be in it to win it,” says a wise yet very young individual about the lottery jackpot.

And that’s all I have for today, last night rather.

My Grandparents kitchen sink.

2 thoughts on “Everything but the kitchen sink

  1. Colin 5 January, 2018 / 12:18 pm

    A few observations I’ve made over the years that might be relevant:

    1) re: having nothing to write about. I’ve found that when it’s time to submit a column for my newsletter and I have nothing to say, get ridiculous. Do a “this day in history” comparison, or try some cheesy poetry (your poem the other day was fine, but it was serious. Try something cheesy, like rhyme or limericks. They’re easier and more fun, and they force you to use a thesaurus, which can accidentally lead to other ideas. And your readers become easy to please when you get funny.

    2) re: cold bringing out the worst in people. In SB, it was never cold, but it did rain on occasion, which meant we couldn’t play our scheduled outdoor roller hockey games. That led to people not only having an extra couple of hours of time on their hands for every evening that would’ve otherwise had a game, but their main outlet for pent up frustration and aggression was also unavailable to them. When people find themselves unable to do the things they want to do, with nothing to fill the void, and worse, no outlet for their frustrations, the natural thing to do is to exploit the grumpy mood they find themselves in by complaining about something. If it goes on long enough, their ambition increases, and they put it in the form of written complaints that some poor shmucks in charge have to listen to and address. When the weather clears, and people can get back into their routines, it usually all blows over. Same thing happens in the yacht club. So I’ve come to expect it and treat it as entertainment.

    3) re: snow and wind when driving. Since my high school years, I’ve been a star wars geek, and as such, I like to imagine the snowflakes are stars whizzing by me as I travel through hyperspace. (BTW: that blue swirly tunnel thing they use for hyperspace now is bullshit!)

    Miss you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • raquelita 7 January, 2018 / 10:45 am

      Thanks, so much Colin, as always for reading, but also for letting me know what you think! I’m really wanting to try out your advice on lightning up a bit and just being silly in my writing. We’ll see where that makes it in in my January writings. Also, you make a good point about the weather changing people’s moods. I think that besides treating it as entertainment, people (me included) can just make sure and get some outlet for their frustrations (aka the weather among other things). I think this for me as well as many other people is just getting out to play (whatever that may entail). Thanks again!!


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