lizardek's obiter dictum lizardek Home Now Then Friends Info Ek Family
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This work week is wringing me out like a washcloth, twisting just tight enough to make my shoulders cram up against the small bones where spine meets skull. It's been a week of breathless galloping through projects, and then galloping back and forth over my tracks, reined in by the wishes of others. Still, I'm satisfied. I'm getting things done, although I've had to say no twice to people, something I hate having to do. No, I'm sorry, I can't take your project although I know there isn't anyone else that you can ask, there isn't anyone else who can do it. I just don't have time. Saddening words for a people-pleaser to utter.

The weather has twisted up too, unsure it seems of just which way it wants to go, though it has no choice and nor do we, leashed to it like heeled hounds. The sun and the moon are vying to outshine one another, and though the moon isn't yet full, its waxing face, beaming silver in a clear black sky, is giving that old sun a run for his money. Sssh! Don't tell the moon his brightness is borrowed. Transparent, endless winter-blue skies are wasted when I'm stuck inside all day; thankfully tomorrow is a half-day and I'm hell-bent on getting out while the sun is still shining.

This time of year, when the sun is out, it seems as if the world is a great bell, struck and quivering. There's a music in the molecules of the air, set shimmering in the cold. It's a different song that winter sings, slower than the spring. More ponderous yet no less joyful, accompanied by stompy boots and the rasping soprano of ice scrapers on diamond-struck windows.

I shall take a book to bed. I shall fling another comforter across the counterpane and slide beneath to lie shivering until warmth fills the space and makes a bodyheat cocoon. Soon I shall consider wearing gloves as well, because my fingers stiffen and chill holding a book above the blanket's edge. But gloves make it hard to turn pages and I find my hands don't know the difference...if they hold still too long they chill from the inside out, circulation a faintly frozen memory. Anticipation warms me now, though. I'm looking forward to tomorrow, to the weekend (miraculously empty of plans), to the season of cold and snow song, to the time when the light of the winter sun is enough to keep me moving through the darkling days.

Clear and Cool Starlight Bright Birthday Wishes to vember!
mood: tired
music: Joan Armatrading—Willow

(no subject) - (Anonymous)

This whirlwind is counting on sleeping in tomorrow. MAN, was it hard to drag myself from under that 2nd comforter this morning, while the rest of my family slept on.

That entry was like a painting, really great imagery there!

aw, thanks :)

BTW, I have something to make you smile. You'll need sound for this.

OH! BWAHAHAHAA!!! that is HILARIOUS!! I can't wait to show my family!!

Lovely Lizerly writing, that.

I had an impulse Wednesday night to give you a quick shoulder massage. I should have acted on it.

I wouldn't have let you stop! :D


What a beautiful language you have!


thanks for the compliment! :)

This time of year... on diamond-struck windows.

i sent that passage to F in an email and said "my friend lizardek wrote this!" wow...!! (F is a big fan of the autumn)

So am I :) thanks!


"There's a music in the molecules of the air, set shimmering in the cold." What beautiful poetry you write, oh Liz of Lizards. I know that feeling, it's how I felt for most of our blue sky September, that the very air was vibrating with energy and song.

Enjoy your empty days, and I mean that!


3 responses

1!~THank you for that. What loverly descriptive writing.

2*And, a poem sent to me by a friend yesterday:

Autumn Light

The night sky was dripping stars all the way down to earth.
The trees were like liquid gold down the canyon.
I laughed with relief as I discovered this deep, familiar
Joy of being here
loving this sweet planet home
has never left me.
Nor is it in anyway connected to another.
It is my own autumn light.

3) And~ I wear a pair of gloves with the fingertips cut off~ warmth, but page turning ability

October 2019
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Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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