
never content with
the long littleness of life
the ladies who lunch
JSmith 6/8/2016

08 Jun 2016 1 Comment

never content with
the long littleness of life
the ladies who lunch
JSmith 6/8/2016

06 Jun 2016 Leave a comment
want to make progress
but our days are so laid back
the Zen always wins
JSmith 6/6/2016

01 Jun 2016 Leave a comment
June arrives on time
skies still hold sun rain sleet snow
fancy bull-shitsu
JSmith 6/01/2016

30 May 2016 2 Comments
Went back to my 2014 remembrance post this morning, knowing that for too many people every weekend is memorial weekend.
It’s a typically perfect Memorial Day morning here, like so many from my childhood, when every year we could count on it to be raining or blistering hot and windstill, or freezing cold, or all of the above, in gusts, or maybe cool and clear after one of those rains. In Lawrence this morning it’s 79º headed for 82, sunny, blue skies, humidity has dropped from 89% when I went out at 7am to 60% five hours later, and it’s exquisitely beautiful out.
But life holds more than beauty – especially for those who will never see any of it again – and cloudy skies take over sometimes. By 2pm we’re supposed to be mostly under cloud cover here, which seems altogether fitting for the day.
In 2016 I reshare my family’s story out of gratefulness, and out of reverence for, and abhorrence of, unspeakable loss on all sides throughout the generations.
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First posted Memorial Weekend 2014 (with edits 5/30/2016 – a personalized haiku for anyone who’s bored enough to find them all – link provided below.)
My grandpa enlisted in the Army at the age of 17 and served at the front as an infantryman during WWI. His six sons were all military men, Army, Navy, and Marines. The three Marines, 18, 19, and 21 were in the Korean Conflict at the same time, in the same general location, under miserable conditions. All seven Reese military personnel returned home intact in body and went on to raise thriving families of their own. Many of my cousins have also served with honor in the military. The only family member I’m aware of, without digging into the archives, who was directly lost to war, was my Aunt Bette’s husband, making her a teenage widow with a baby. The baby, my cousin Vickie, is standing in front of her mother and between our grandparents in the family portrait. My mama is top right in both the portrait and the thumbnail pics, somehow descriptive of her position in my life for all time. And kudos today to my Baby Aunt Barbara, lower right in both, who put this collage together.
So thankful to have four of the original Reese Dynasty kids – Vic, Jerry, Barbara, and Roger – present and accounted for, on this Memorial Remembrance in the year 2016. Hugs and kisses all around, beloved.
Ongoing family is priceless. Feeling deeply thankful right about now.

Okay, Constant Reader, the edits took on a life of their own, so don’t even try. If, however, you’d originally thought you might, for the haiku, throw me a subject and I’ll do it anyway!
27 May 2016 Leave a comment
fronts will come and go
rain falls rain stops rain comes again
the plants are rusting
JSmith 5/27/2016

25 May 2016 7 Comments
And by teachable, of course, I mean me. The fabulous one-of-a-kind Janis Ian led me straight down an enticing rabbit hole with her Godzilla haiku, and although I haven’t sent her my own personal homage to the Big Guy yet, I’m having fun with the new toy. Since I’m hoping you’ll add your own quirky lines in Comments (so I can psychoanalyze you), it’s time for me to branch out and experiment with alternate rhythms from yesterday’s teachable moment:
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want a piece of me
not enough to go around
get in line Sweetness
JSmith 5/25/2016
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That’s five seven five again. Next challenge…
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lunch is served
Chef Boy Are We Poor
act not proud
JSmith 5/25/2016
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Three five three and I like it!
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Two three two? What are the odds?
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puffed up
infested
jackass
JSmith 5/25/2016
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TA-DAA!! That’s the most fun I’ve had since last night and once you screw your brains out into left field and let them freewheel (were you getting worried?), the stanzas jump up and dance. You have to do this, okay? because it’s so much fun and you’ll be so.freaking.proud of yourself. Truth.
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I’ll just leave this here as the embodiment of inspiration for each of us today:

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Six five four, did you catch that? Just do it.
24 May 2016 Leave a comment
“A traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count.” That is hot off the interwebs, kids, so I’m giving it my No Housekeeping Seal of Approval and we’ll roll with it.
Unless we want to consider this generous input from Be Happy Zone:

See what I’m sayin’? EVERYBODY CAN DO THIS! So EVERYBODY DO THIS, OKAY? Here, I’ll get us started…
pain is not a friend
taking my chubby lumpkins
to the pool for cure
JSmith 5/24/2016
*My internal rhythm is partial to 5 7 5, but I promise to experiment with other patterns next time. SHOW ME WHAT YA’ GOT! (Post in Comments.)
23 May 2016 3 Comments

days sunny or gray
pass like water rolling on
inspiration dry
JSmith 5/23/2016
17 May 2016 4 Comments

rain rain rain all day
more falls while darkness covers
all the world so wet
~JSmith
Add your haiku in comments!!
12 May 2016 Leave a comment

whine
diss
opine
agitate if you must
so sad The Tombs were out of reach
tribe matters
~JSmith 5/12/2016


09 May 2016 Leave a comment
This is wonderful. My friend Ned Hickson wrote it and I stole it to share with you.

A mentor every writer should’ve been lucky enough to have.
Anyone who follows my weekly Nickel’s Worth on Writing knows Publisher’s Digest and The Master of Horror® Stephen King are frequently among those offering accolades touting the value an…
Source: Remembering a writing mentor who probably never knew it
24 Apr 2016 Leave a comment
morning glorious
blue-sky easy-breeze
families farmers mowers runners riders pedalers
dogs kids coffee sprouts
players hangers-on sun-babies
he does so we can
precious spoons accrue
Fat Lady mute
JSmith 4/24/2016
{Thoughts while pondering The Meaning of Life on a Saturday, prompted by feelings about the artists who’ve helped us get through the night, know ourselves better, value our existence more, give ourselves tacit permission to be weird. Those friends of the heart are relentlessly leaving us, and not by choice. They got older along with us, and talent can’t necessarily buy extra time – so we have a sacred responsibility to own what they tried to show us, and keep the lights on. Life is a good thing.}
A gift to my niece because she asked. She is a true poet and I love her enough to put some words out, knowing it isn’t a contest. ❤

19 Apr 2016 3 Comments
This sounds terrific for lunch tomorrow – somebody please do the work and get back to me with reviews, thanks! 

Cooking Notes at this link: NYTimes
18 Apr 2016 Leave a comment
DISCLAIMER: Girl is in a rainy-day mood – what does that even mean? Rain fills her with a happy melancholy that may or may not occasionally veer off into the blues, but it’s all good – and useful. Sometimes drippy sunless weeks make her dig through the laundry basket for her freak flag, and then things get fun. Hang with her if you want – she’ll be gentle – please keep your hands and feet inside the roll-cage at all times until the ride comes to a complete stop.
Roaming around her usual haunts this gray morning she’s laughing at all the prime new humor – the day-making kind because so.spot.on.
If it rains long enough, a bit of introspection sets in. After intense moments of spiritually-guided meditation over at least a five minute period today, all of her senses are telling her that she is salt in her community, with a well-honed bent toward rebellion. Cool. She has been seen and known.
Here’s a creative thing she does when she finds herself on the verge of punching bunnies in the face ’til they cry little bunny tears: She ponders the statistical probability that there are Others who are occasionally visited by weirdly unhinged storylines and who willingly entertain thoughts of same. This insight simultaneously encourages, appalls, and confuses her – and brings up a fun question: Who here is willing to admit that they, too, are Desktop OCD? If you write, how much power do your computer screen, your actual desktop, your direct surroundings add to that experience? Can you fully relax if not all of those things are in sync? Oh. Well, yeah, she can too (we assume), it’s just that she prefers it this other way.

When all her little proggies play nicely together, the soothing yet stimulating colors and designs cause her brain to overflow with copious, astonishing story ideas, hahahaha, yeah, no. But she’s happy, god knows, and nobody gets hurt. Are you out there, Dear Reader, kindred spirit? Don’t leave our girl alone in the universe. Say you do this, too, or something equally obsessive. Please show your work.
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