Blazing Heat of Summer and Black Coffee Philosophy

As the coffee perks, I am swallowed in music. The banjo, my favorite stringed instrument strums across the bright kitchen. The echoed picking gets me to thinking about how our lives echo across the fine line of existence. How every decision we make is shattered into our livelihood and shapes us into our own unique individuals. Carved from the roots of our birth, we must find our own way. Like a ship sailing the ragged sea of life with all its dangers and precautions, we must stand fast at the wheel and follow our compass.

It’s majestic outside the snow veiling the ground but bitterly cold. Perfect for coffee AND researching. I’m working on an article about the Pawnee Indians that were indigenous to my area. Sadly enough I see the current political climate of the United States in rather the same light. Immigrants who’ve called America their home pushed out. Atrociously sad.

Spices blending and percolating in the filter slip into the pot, like late party guests slipping in quietly, unnoticed. The wind bouts the house as the tree limbs shake above like marionettes, the wind their puppeteer. The clouds, framed by the hills, stoop and scoot along the highest limbs, pretending to be foliage. But alas, the dead of winter freezes everything in its chilled and mesmerizing trance.

As I gingerly sip steaming coffee I philosophize about the summer. The sun coming in blazing and the hills covered in green followed effortlessly by its breaking and scattering across the hills, slowly extinguished in the black velvet night. This black velvet night adorned by the diamonds of the sky every star lighting just enough space to the next, as if in communication. The stars communicating with one another, like every person in our country, free to raise their voice and be heard. So be a star and raise your voice.

That’s how I imagine summer; coming in on the thrusts of natures finest, on the voices of the brave.

Hopefully, by summer, I will have completed a couple more short stories. I finally got up the courage, when I was completely bedridden, to publish two short stories on Amazon. I had to muster up a lot of courage to publish those. Courage is a hard thing to achieve but I’m so glad I published. Even if no one reads my works, at least I’ll have done it and it will go down in history; hehe maybe not a very long history, but wishful thinking, you know ;).

Wishful thinking is like black coffee it gets me up in the morning.

Hope your day is studded with awesomeness, you’re amazing, be brave and you WILL conquer.

Cheers!

-Smiling Coffee Cup

 

Lace, Coffee and Hope for a Bright Future

As I scrolled through the registry of tartans, I glanced across mine a simple green and red, my family tartan, which I’m so proud to hold. My hot cup of coffee in one hand and hours of bedrest ahead of me I had taken on the task of learning the language Scottish-Gaelic and literally engrossing myself in all things Scotland. I do so hope to go there in this coming year, God-willing.

The lace I have is on a book mark that has been passed down through generations of Scots. I daresay I cannot imagine what the lace has seen with its many eyes. So delicately woven in such a perfect pattern. Resembling a fine Scottish heirloom perhaps even made Clan MacMaster Tartanwoven before the Rising at Culloden.

How exciting it would be for me to uncover a lost ancestor!!

In fact, I was so consumed with this possibility that I went and bought an Ancestry kit! I’m going to have such fun uncovering my genealogy. At least that will keep me occupied for awhile… Which with this whole bedrest thing is proving more and more taxing.

The Prairie: Keep Reading

The snow is a drifting terribly tall and chill outside cause your noses to run. The winds a howling’ as the coyotes howl out their love songs. The deep and dreary winter is closing in soon to have the prairie in a death grip. Winter, as my dad puts it, is the time for “underachieving.” it is definitely a fine time to “huddle down in the wood shavings” and curl up with a good book. That’s a colloquial way we say stay inside warm in front of the fire with a book. Or another is, “It’s a good day to stay inside and leave the buffalo alone.” Language and colloquial sayings are dying and I have been so blessed to have grown up learning them.

Which, I daresay I will be doing quite a lot more reading this winter as my surgery will take its toll. But! On the sunny side I have compiled a goal sheet of 20 books that I hope to finish. As I err on the of Classics side of the bookshelf, I do believe I can hopefully read a couple.

Here are some I hope to read:

Inverno, Dante

As I Lay Dying, Hemingway

Notes from the Underground

I made a delicious meal tonight of spaghetti and meatballs; quite topical if I say so myself!
All the spices I used were dried though I definitely recommend using fresh if you have them. I decided to use up the turkey burgers we already had to clear out some space in the fridge.

1 can tomato sauce

1/2 onion

Olive oil

Oregano

Parsley

Basil

Salt & pepper

Garlic powder (definitely use garlic cloves if you have ’em)

Turkey burgers

mozzarella cheese (I used fresh)

Drizzle the olive oil in the pan, set on medium-high, and chop the onion sliding into the hot oil. Sauté. Add the spices and let cook for 5 minutes making sure they flavors meld. Break up your turkey burgers and add to sauce, stirring with a spatula to coat with sauce. Then lay in slices of fresh mozzarella cheese cook for another 5 minutes. Then viola! You have a tasty spaghetti and turkey dish!

Time Slipping through Milk

caffeine coffee cup drink

Photo by Burst on Pexels.com

Splitch. splotch. the milk dropped in my coffee like a cannon exploding into a waterfall.

The morning was grey and held silent promises of household chores. This farm seems stuck very much in the pioneer days. The wind whistles across the thresh as I gingerly step in the kitchen grasping the day late newspaper.  Yes, the newspaper comes a day late in this part of the country. Don’t they say, “A day late a dollar short?” The mail sadly is just a handful of ads and newspapers, more ads than newspaper I daresay.

The day holds a dirty house that needs cleaning and a whole lot of alone time. Time, that binds the human heart on this earth. Time, that slips unbearably quickly once you notice its there. Time, once you have a goal seems like, what was the point anyway?

Its melancholy. Its a lonely road, this life. We may be bound here on earth for a short time but soon we will be down the path to our selected afterlife. Do you ever wonder how your actions will effect that route? That path of fortitude or condemnation?

It keeps me restless, sometimes. St. Augustine once wrote, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” So, there is no escape from restlessness. No pills. No magic massages. We are here for a reason, however small or big. Many saints have shown us it is not how much we do but how much love we put into what we do.

This is a great contemplation for me in my life now as it seems to be drastically limp with my upcoming surgery. I am having my foot sliced open like the watermelon we pick in my family’s fields each summer. Sorry, didn’t mean to get to graphic there. So, I’m stocking up on books and movies and looking into learning a language.

Though this surgery is apparently going to fix part of the problem, when it all boils down to it, I still have a very large neurological problem that is growing into a bigger issue. Uggh… medical problems are such a hassle. And so hard to explain. My TBI has been the death of many of my friendships. It’s grotesque memory deficiency making any relationship difficult. My mood swings take over my life.

So that’s it. My waiting to get cut open like a watermelon.

Broken Dishes and Scattered Thoughts

The cold winds shuddered against the solid brick of the house as the grasses quiver. It’s cold and I’m having the biggest impulse to just cuddle down with a book or finish my Prime series. But, that’s not very productive. So, I’m making homemade mint tea and trying to resize a pair of jeans. Resizing jeans honestly is a pain in the arse… literally. The jeans are steadily becoming, I fear, potholders or possibly and apron. Resizing is a bit past my experience level, I think. Anyway, feeling drastically lonely, like a broken dish scattered across the floor, this morning. But hope and creativity will see me through it, God-willing. I’m slowly eeking out a letter to my love, far-far away. Which, thinking of him, honestly sometimes makes me want to binge watch Outlander. Haha, lol jk. I’m sure in the coming months after my surgery there will be plenty of time for that. Letters keep me somewhat balanced though, honestly. I have an entire book of partially written drafts of love letters. Some are so sweet to him and some are reminders of sweet memories for me. I submitted a short story to a publication this morning that, fingers crossed, may get me published, hopefully.  

A Return on Inside: The Brain TBI

I was feeling terrible, this morning, with a sad rain in my heart and a great irritation for living in my rental.

A haphazardly stacked pile of library books litter my nightstand as I reached for the pull string on my lamp. The packing ensues. It’s 6:20; no surprise, I’m just thankful its not 3:45 am, like yesterday.

Not that I haven’t enjoyed living in my rental, something just clicked, and the packing began. First the baking pans then the china teapot.

I never know what’s going to inspire me when I get up.

Its almost like a fight-or-flight reaction a TBI knee-jerk of sorts. I start feeling trapped by a situation and I move. And in these times, I literally hustle to get everything in boxes. This is not the first time this has happened to me either. Last year, this happened and I packed up my whole room one morning and wasn’t able to move for another two months!

it’s really hard to live out of boxes, let me tell you!