Friday’s Object Writing

I am very displeased with my writing today! I had a lot of trouble connecting to the “objects” at hand. As it were… Bicycle-5min, bracelet-10min, stockings-10min, puppy-90sec

 

Bicycle. Cold, hard metal. Round rubber tires. Riding my mountain bike through the grass as a kid. Riding everywhere on any terrain. In my bathing suit, hoping my towel didn’t get caught in the spokes. The smell of fresh cut grass in the summer air. I run through the sprinkler at my memaw and papaws house. Watermelons floating in the pool on the fourth of July. Riding my bike down the beach over little patches of sand blown up on the street. Past the big park with the playgrounds. Skip to my college years. Riding a bike to school on the snow covered streets of Salzburg, Austria. I skid out and fall. Not injured, just embarrassed. Vowing never to ride a bike again, claiming it hurts my bum. I do ride bikes, just rarely, and on a simple path! Times change, things aren’t so easy as an adult as they were in childhood

Bracelet, woven, made with love. Ever color of the rainbow, stacked up my arms. Made by my friends. Never to be taken off, only when they fall off can they be removed, lest I hurt someone’s feelings. Different patterns all strung together. Colors picked thoughtfully, made by hand. Bracelets of metal, stackable, that jingle as you wiggle your arm. Raising your hand to push the hair out of your face. Insisting they match perfectly with your earrings, rings, & outfit. Designer bracelets, David Yurman, Pandora, Catherine Popesco. The bracelets that cling, must match the ring. Bling that rhymes. Bracelets also from childhood, friendships made at camp. The arts & crafts shack. Making candles. Finally able to sign our name on the craft shack our last year as campers before becoming counselors. The ropes course was always my favorite! Bringing me back to ropes, thread, string, tied round the wrist, quintuple knotted together for dear life! Over under through the loop. Twisted together, color swirls, boxed, braided, knotted. safety pins through the loop or knot to attach to any near surface. The back of a chair, a pillow, whatever is near to continue working tirelessly on this piece of unique art for your extraordinarily beloved friend!

Stockings, pink, with a line up the back. Ballerina’s wear soft pink, as if gently kissed by the blush of a light pink rose. Tap dancers wear black fishnet, with rhinestones. Jazz dancers wear nude with a small hole at the bottom to poke the foot through when so desired. Often this is done and they are rolled up the calf, just below the knee. Dancing barefoot. Toughening your feet, developing calluses. Gymnasts/tumblers wear nude with the stirrup feet. Old ladies wear knee highs with garters. Much thinner are these “panty hose” than those “tights” dancers sport. Stockings hung by the chimney with care. They look more like giant crew socks, stuffed with candy & teddy bears when you wake up Christmas morning. The fire crackling and popping in the fireplace below. Reading books by the fire. A fancy Christmas meal. Colored dominos and puzzle time with the family. Never realized how many types of stockings there are. Other words with stock, livestock, stock market… Body stockings, another thing dancers can wear. They come all the way up under the leotard and have shoulder straps so as not to create a waistline, although these are awfully uncomfortable! No one even wears tights anymore except ballerinas. Blanking now, mind drifting. Time is running out… in life. Every minute closer to our last breath than before!

Puppy, cute & cuddly with puppy breath. Barks so weak! Jumps on top of you licking your face incessantly. Potty training is so not fun! Play fetch in the yard, bark at everything that catches attention

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s