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Naked conversation …

15 Mar 2016 Leave a comment

This weekend’s spa soak found us once again solving world problems by means of logic, common sense, and positive thinking in the face of current events. No, really.

KIM: So if the economy crashes again, we should have a realistic idea what we might do.

ME: Realistically, a van down by the river would be a plan. No problemo, baby, I’d live under a bridge with you.

KIM: Or how about an Airstream? We could get a cool antique truck to pull it with.

ME:

KIM: What?

ME: You need to focus.

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He knows I’m serious about the “whither thou goest” schtick, though, partly because we were in the bathtub when I said it and he always tells me you can’t lie to somebody when you’re naked.

Also, Headline Checker App, I didn’t appreciate my low grade on this one and I’m not sure your management style meshes with our goals at present, so buh-bye. Who needs that kind of negativity … jeez.

Image by Judy Smith

Playing with a headline checker this morning and finding that a passing grade is hard to earn — my words don’t meet the parameters for drama, bite, and maximum grabbiness. However, since I’m not selling anything I find that level of failure acceptable. Happy Spring to you, whether it’s early or late in your world!

Image by Judy Smith

Has to be spring …

13 Mar 2016 1 Comment

… because they’re telling us it’s time to cut the top off the blanket and sew it onto the bottom, thus allowing DST to wreck us once again. Found comment I can get behind: Let’s make Eastern & Central one time zone, and Mountain & Pacific another and be done with it.

If that sounds like an outstanding plan to you, start a petition or a march or something, please? I’m going back to bed …

Spring_Forward

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And because it’s apropos in some weird way and made me laugh …

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Image by Judy Smith

The rain in Spain …

08 Mar 2016 1 Comment

waiting_for_a_train_in-the-rainy-day

Sitting out

watching the rain

hearing the trains

theatrical horns chewing scenery

while wheels rhythmically

play understudy.

No sweeter melancholy.

~JSmith, 3/8/2016

Image by Judy Smith

The Nickel Tour …

07 Mar 2016 Leave a comment

As promised yesterday, a brief reading list from Playing for Time’s archives. Bets are now open as to how many I can repost without editing …

NOTE: Each link should open in a new window.

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2013/01/30/behind-every-good-woman-is-a-good-man/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2015/10/31/everyday-garden-variety-bleeding-hearts/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/12/08/what-scares-you/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2013/03/12/why-yes-as-a-matter-of-fact-i-was-raised-in-a-barn/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2013/05/22/memorial-day-reflections/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/09/30/well-this-sucks/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/09/23/queer-eye-for-the-straight-girl/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/10/28/a-tuesday-full-of-thankfulness/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/10/24/my-brothers-keeper/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/12/22/not-going-down-without-a-rant/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2015/07/18/the-tale-of-the-topless-dancer-the-baby-clown-and-the-cross-country-heist/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/12/04/a-fairytale-for-throwback-thursday/

https://playingfortimeblog.com/2014/10/25/its-saturyay-try-something-new/

There you go, and I was generous — these are favorites from the past three years and I hope you’ll enjoy one or more. Actually, I hope you’ll adore every single one of them, but how needy would it sound to say that out loud, jeez. I reposted them as I found them, and they’re a semi-cross-section of my blog, including humor and tears, longer posts and shorter posts, nostalgia and brashness, and maybe a window or two for peering at the writer in her cage.

If you like poetry there’s some of that sprinkled around, and a few of the creations are my own. It’s a genre I want to spend more time working with because of the way it pulls words and feels out of me.

The last link is one recipe that is tried & true, in case you read yesterday’s post — Kim has made dozens of these, inspiring awe and reverence each time, so you can trust it as well as many other recipes we’ve enjoyed since I posted them. If you have concerns, of course, just ask. I recommend asking someone who writes a food blog.

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Image by Judy Smith

Sit here by me …

06 Mar 2016 2 Comments

Hey, hi, if you’re new to my blog and wondering how you got here, wondering if you want to stay here, wondering what’s for lunch, I’m here to help. 1.) I have a page called ABOUT that you can take a look at and I hope you will because it has its moments, but it tells you mostly about me, which why wouldn’t you want to know? However, it probably gives you not much clue as to what my BLOG is about, which may have been what you were wondering. 2.) Nor can I personally give you much clue as to what my blog is about because it ends up being about pretty much everything. 3.) Lunch is not my problem. I lied about helping.

If you sort of collect food blogs, this isn’t that, even though I go off the rails and post a recipe once in a while because although I haven’t cooked in close to fifteen years it’s like riding a bicycle and it’s always fun to find recipes I know would be fabulous, hand them to Kim, and sit down and eat them. That shit never gets old. Hint: A respectable food blogger would not share recipes, techniques, ingredients he/she hadn’t personally tested. I have no such scruples, so cook at your own risk.

Do you love book blogs? Books are precariously near the top of my list of loves, but this isn’t a book blog, I just hold forth sometimes on things I’ve read that end up making my bravo list. If you’re looking for erudite literary fellowship and enlightenment I’m not your girl, sorry not sorry, there are plenty of those guys and girls out there to call on. I read what I like and write what I know. Chances are good that since you found me we share a few of the same tastes and/or philosophies, and that’s always a rush — that ZOT!! of connection.

Playing for Time isn’t a self-improvement blog, but if growth happens for me in the process of writing — BONUS. And if in some small way my invaluable insights affect you through osmosis and you benefit, I expect a cut.

This is emphatically not a fitness blog, bwahahahaha!! If you follow me very long you’ll know why that’s funny.

Not a travel blog, either, although I think I’d be darling at it. Once we settled into our happy place in our happy town, leaving on a jet plane doesn’t sound like as much fun as it used to be. THAT’S BECAUSE IT ISN’T. What a Not-Happy Place for man or beast. So yeah, I’m not jetting around the globe dashing off travel reports to my publisher that are stream of consciousness and sparkling with wit. Crap.

Not a self-defense blog. HA! (See fitness, lack thereof.)

Not a relationship blog, even though that’s up there above books in my stack of good stuff. I’m still figuring it all out myself … so no … relationship gets talked about quite a bit here, but not on the advice end of things, so no worries.

There are obviously a lot more things my blog isn’t than things it is, so I’m caught lying to you again because I told you that “it ends up being about pretty much everything.” By which I meant, of course, everything I want to make it about. Tomorrow I’ll post links to a few of the pieces I’ve written — it can be frustrating trying to find something that interests you. And maybe these won’t but they’ll be ones I sort of like.

I’m glad you’re here and I hope you’ll talk to me in comments.

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Image by Judy Smith

Emergecy, emergecy!!

24 Feb 2016 4 Comments

Not a typo, a quote from my baby nephew back in the day. It’s a thing, friends.

Pre-retirement, Kim crawled home from his soul-killing job as a service writer one day, burst into the house, and yelled “Read me something from the Bible, quick, before I go back and kill somebody.” Yes, darling, I feel ya’.

Today is that day again in Smithville, so I’m asking y’all to throw me a bone, a carp, ANYthing. We talked about books the other day … now I’m asking for your go-to when you just can’t even. Do you rage, cry, throw things, hide out in a book, drink, talk … what works?? I mean WORKS. NO PLATITUDES or I will rage, cry, and throw things at you after drinking and before hiding in a book.

I’m usually pretty good at the Zen, the calm, the considered, the adulting, but sometimes I’m not, so sue me. When you wake up pissed, everything hurts, idiots are still getting away with murder in all its iterations, the music in your head is relentless, the construction asshole who’s been tearing up the parking lot with the big honkin’ telehandler against all admonitions is still at it big as life and twice as natural, and people need your help but you have nothing left in reserve, WHAT DO YOU DO? Please. Dangle a rope if you have one.

But first:

I understand nothing lasts forever — I’m about as old as God this morning and I’ve been there.
Things are never as bad as they seem. (See #1)
You’re blessed, fed, clothed, housed, and people love you, dammit.
Look at all the people who have shitty lives but aren’t complaining.
Okay, whatevs. Did you never, ever, at any time wish you could turn in your human card?

Just give me whatcha got, I’m not fit for man nor beast until the storm blows over … and the Flying Monkeys are clamoring to be unleashed.

Image by Judy Smith

Let’s talk books!

19 Feb 2016 11 Comments

In the face of life beyond my control I’m currently a prisoner of the music, so I’m exercising my powers of creativity in every way I can. The only time I don’t hear the squirrel party in my head is when other music is pouring into my ears or I’m asleep. If I could I would simply go unconscious until this is over as it makes me want to jump out of my skin and be somebody else for a while.

Since none of the above is an option, come talk to me about something dear to my heart — what you like to read and why. What are you currently engrossed in? Do you read more than one book at a time? Who are the authors who speak to you?

My own reading tastes are eclectic to the max, so I’m truly interested in knowing what grabs your attention. What sorts of things compel you to spend your time reading when you could (should?) be doing other things?

I’m currently enjoying this one:

poor-mans-feast-cov-600x

And some recent good reads:

Have you read any of these and did you like them? Another question: If you start a book and can’t get into it do you persist or do you operate by the rule that Life Is Too Short and ditch it for something else?

Seriously, come share your reading world with me. The life you save could be mine.

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On cleanliness and opportunity …

15 Feb 2016 Leave a comment

Conditions in the broken-bone sector have improved enough that spa-tub soaks are again in the picture and after several weeks’ worth of spit baths, sink baths, and whimper-laden assisted showers, basking in hot water and bubbles up to my armpits is the height of ecstasy. It’s the shiznit for sore muscles but beyond that it feels wonderful to be clean all over again.

Luxuriating in all that therapeutic goodness makes me acutely conscious of my fellow travelers who lack access to basics like showering, washing hair, brushing teeth, stepping into a clean set of clothes. Inevitably, after days, weeks, and months on the street they’re cringing inside a filthy threadbare meat suit that reeks of underbelly and in no way represents their spirit, but it’s what everybody sees. After just a month of enforced immobility and minimal hygiene I’ve been dismayed to find my skin taking on a slightly gritty texture and rejecting its host, namely me. The nails on my usable hand are constantly grubby simply because I can’t do this right now …

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But because I ordinarily have access to all the soap and water I’m big enough to handle, I can start every new day clean, lotioned from head to toe, wrapped in clothes that smell like fabric softener and fresh air, and that alone means I don’t have to justify my needs to everyone I meet, or fight for my right to exist. I have the luxury of owning words and concepts like these:

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… and it makes all the difference. Healing happens easier, quicker, better, and it’s a fact that as I roll through life the advantages I enjoy and the possibilities that are open to me are fairly limitless. It seems apropos to acknowledge that once in a while …

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… because none of it comes with a lifetime guarantee.

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Image by Judy Smith

Is the doctor in?

13 Feb 2016 Leave a comment

It was nipply out yesterday, but I defiantly sat in a sunny chair on the balcony for a while in my all-purpose jams, paw-print flip-flops, LFK bag-lady sweater and a field jacket. I know you have to get back on the bicycle at your first opportunity, but it isn’t the same without Miss Fireball. She’s supposed to be out there with me, patrolling the perimeter and yipping at intruders, first and foremost all four-legged trespassers. Every balmy evening this spring and summer we’ll miss her dancing on two legs for cocktail hour treats and zipping around non-stop to see it ALL, while the warm evening hugged us and made the three of us oh so grateful to be in the world together. And Maddie gradually letting herself fall asleep on Kim’s chest or my lap, lulled by our voices and the after-sunset sounds of home. There’s a whole world to miss.

Wonder how long until I stop checking behind and under me before rolling back from my desk. How long until I can unwrap a cheese stick or a chip bag without cringing that I pushed her feed-me button? Or until I stop saving loud videos to watch later so as not to disturb her sweet sleep, always right here beside me. Maybe some fine evening me n’ Boo will be laughing over margaritas on Cielito’s patio and the stars will be out and the air will put its arms around us and we won’t cry, and we won’t look at each other and think “We should get back and check on the baby.” Maybe some fine time that will happen. Or not.

Thanks for listening, Doc, I’ll leave my 5¢ on the counter and show myself out …

Maddie

Image by Judy Smith

Make it shtahp!

12 Feb 2016 2 Comments

Talk to me, friends, this is getting wackadoodle. Ever since the recent ice capades on the balcony, my life has had a sound track! That might make me happy except that it’s the lamest, most insipid music on the planet — somebody’s inside my head playing a big honkin’ Wurlitzer, an organ I didn’t even know was on my personal parts list. It’s been droning on for weeks now, virtually nonstop until I fall asleep. A B3 would be fabulous, but no, this is old-school swirly-wurly all the way. The sedate tempo never varies, the glisses and runs are utterly predictable, the plummy bass notes swell and rumble, every ending abides by a schmaltzy-sounding template. It’s all tediously drama-infused, and just as I reach the edge of madness the tune changes, always transitioning directly from one song to the next, some of which I recognize but most of it painfully generic, although yesterday’s selection was Desperado on ‘ludes and endless loop.

It’s like I’m living in a mortuary or I wandered onto the soundstage of a Gaither Reunion in full-on veneration mode, and very little external input has the power to punch the mute button. This is new territory but it doesn’t feel creepy … yet. My head did thump the ice and concrete fairly aggressively, so there’s that. And there’s all this better living through chemistry that’s been going down for the past month, giving me reason to hope that once my friends morphine, oxycodone, hydrocodone, cyclobenzaprine, et.al. go back into the closet the music will find a hidey-hole of its own and go there to die. Not all of it (!!), just this mawkish, never-ending recital of every trite melody ever devised. Bizarre, fascinating, and some of the chord progressions are precious, but I’m so over it — can’t I please go back to the sounds of silence up top now? That would be nice.

Meanwhile I’m nothing if not pragmatic, so … ALLLL SKATE!!

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Screenshot 2016-02-11 at 05.41.41 PM

Image by Judy Smith

Maddie

10 Feb 2016 7 Comments

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Image by Judy Smith

To the bone …

10 Feb 2016 2 Comments

This morning I’m feeling inordinately proud of my skeleton. I’ve had doubts about it in the past, but this time, when slip came to slide, my little boney bits marched right into formation and got busy. They were treated to a photo shoot yesterday and the films are gorgeous — all the shattered pieces are in place and getting chummy with each other — what Dr. Pro calls *sticky.* Sans cast or surgery those little guys shouldered (eh?) the job and did what had to be done. Part of my personal staff:

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It’s been a sobering month at our house; therefore, good news is primo, and when is it not? So on a sunny day in February it’s fun to know I’ve still got it, even if it’s on the inside where you can’t see it. You know why old people are grouchy? Because they hate getting old, end of story. We try to grace it all up and pretend to be philosophical … mature, ha! … all the while feeling slightly bereft that not very many people can hear or see the eighteen, thirty, forty-five-ish, never-gonna-grow-up real soul that is us. We’re having such a good time! How could the ride be so far down the tracks already?

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That’s why we can’t have nice things and the reason we say shit like “Get off my lawn,” and “You’re one smartass comment away from being bitch-slapped so hard Google won’t be able to find you.” We mean well.

I just realized today is Whinesday, which explains everything, sorry not sorry. Enjoy the sunshine — it’s always out there somewhere.

Image by Judy Smith

Write what you know, they said …

09 Feb 2016 2 Comments

There was no doubt a time when you thought that just by becoming a grown-up you’d know shit, right? Yeah, me too, and when you’re pocket-size there’s a lot to sort. Turns out Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and adulthood are all fantasies spun to deer-in-the-headlights kiddos, thereby infusing every experience of childhood with a healthy layer of skepticism. And hello, Home Skillet, the more life swoops in and slaps that grin off your face, the deeper the trust issues get. Trust me.

Santa and the big magic bunny didn’t hurt much when I found out the truth about them, especially the rabbit, I mean really. Adulthood, on the other hand, smacks the crap out of us and the only way we make it through for real is knowing somebody has our back. Sitting here this morning trussed up like a Christmas goose I’m asking myself the hard questions, such as … what’s my trustworthiness quotient? How closely do my actions match my words? When people get to know me are they sick with disappointment over the contradictions that begin to show through? All of that matters for every reason in the world.

I adore living, but it’s fairly cold and heartless out there for most of the human race, as you may have noticed, so it feels amazing every time we can change that even a little bit for someone, am I right? Writing what I know and measuring it against what I do, because it would suck to be weighed in the balance and found wanting.

Oh, HEY, how ‘BOUT those Broncos?!

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Image by Judy Smith

Dear Diary …

07 Feb 2016 Leave a comment

This is one for the record books, my constant confidante — Sunday morning comin’ down, followed by all hell breaking loose. So what’s new, I hear you thinking. I guess when you put it that way, not much.

“On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.”

-Kris Kristofferson

Lately there’s nothing half as lonesome as the KIMN8R taking care of a one-armed wife and one sick puppy. It doesn’t stop, and after this morning’s incredible sunrise and half a cup of coffee the day quickly morphed into a slippery slope to the bottom. Kim’s like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, but the good news is he’s winning.

So, ya’ got your classic Sunday sunrise, great coffee, things are looking up, and before you can absorb all that artistry ya’ got your classic Colossal Sick-Puppy BM-Blowout on a large portion of the new rug, SHAZBOT! just like that. Wow, we didn’t know she had it IN her. Haha, turns out laughing at life is often the only honest response there is.

Maddie and I love and appreciate SuperKim (I understate) not least because we both know we’d be up Shit Creek (haha, right?) without him. He single-handedly — sometimes I crack myself up — got rid of the evidence, wrestled the rug onto the balcony, hit it with the hose (oh my!), draped it out to dry, came inside and made omelets for breakfast. I’m assuming he washed his hands between operations, but that’s barely worth caring about at this point.

The sick and walking wounded are once again tucked in clean and warm, the house restored to a semblance of order, and SuperKim is out foraging for Super Bowl noshes and libations because we are, after all, Americans. There’s sunshine above the clouds and the day is cruising along once again, with the additional bonus of friends coming over later. Life is simple, it’s just not easy.

“But easy’s like, who cares? Easy’s like, how much is easy going to get you?”
― Anne Lamott, Crooked Little Heart

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Image by Judy Smith

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Playing for Time

Naked conversation …

Focus on Spring!

Has to be spring …

The rain in Spain …

The Nickel Tour …

Sit here by me …

Emergecy, emergecy!!

Let’s talk books!

On cleanliness and opportunity …

Is the doctor in?

Make it shtahp!

Maddie

To the bone …

Write what you know, they said …

Dear Diary …

Judy Smith

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Follow Blog via Email

ALL the stuff …

Top Posts & Pages

These people know better but they read my blog anyway.

Join the conversation …

Categories

Were you looking for …

I choose favorites …

The Nitty-Gritty

COPYRIGHT

Winnowing the Chaff

Search My Site