Soup, Pie, Nil

Friday, March 25, 2011
11:34am

Spring Break is winding down all too soon. I'm sitting in my pajamas, listening to nothing but the sounds of the dryer and the furnace. First thing this morning, I cut up a 3 pound chuck roast and tossed it in the Crock Pot to make vegetable soup, or really... more like to a stew. John's down in his office, and it seems this morning is almost eternal for the loneliness. I'm trying to relax into it, because at any other time, I would want time expanded.

We just got back yesterday afternoon from our little getaway in the woods at Berkeley Springs. We rented a cabin there for a couple nights and were mostly lazy. There was a jacuzzi on the deck... I wished we could have made it hotter, but 104 degrees wasn't so bad once you got used to it, and you could stay in it longer that way. On Wednesday we were sitting out in it, and there had been rain all morning so that the woods were enshrouded in fog and the the trees looked more gray than brown, blending with the air around them. The steam coming off the water and hitting my face before bouncing on up toward the sky made me also feel very blended. But then, it's just a thin layer of skin that keeps our blood and organs back, holding us separate from the world around us.

We played a couple games of Scrabble while we were there, one of Monopoly, and passed the time burning Duralogs in the fireplace. Last night I met up with the aerobics crew at Chili's. Betty, a woman I perceive to be in her early 70s, very beautiful, used to be a model, asked what we did there. Skiing? Something exciting? We played lots of Scrabble, I said, and she raised a brow and wrinkled her nose. I suppose that didn't sound so appealing. But... sometimes it is nice to just stop. Watch the world move on by, and the only thing you really want to be separate from is time, which pulls you unwillingly along on its strings, stitched together by some unseen hand. And all you want to do is pause. Look and hold. And it's silly, of course, because this is not possible. Nonetheless, the slower you get, the closer you get. And the arcs made as x approaches infinity, never quite touching, crossing, intersecting, but still you think of it. It was really nice to just move slow for a couple days and just be there with each other. I didn't take the computer. I didn't get on the internet. We didn't use the TV much. Just the last night to watching "South Park" and a couple other things, but we were doing it together. I'd like to be back there, but that invisible seamstress keeps tugging at the thread I'm sitting on, of course, and it's time to move along. I have, however, cleaned the trailer all up and, although time is always in such short supply I can't keep things neat, am trying to bring a homier feel into our home and let it last as long as possible. I'm not necessarily on a domestic kick so much as trying to remember that the small joys are the things that ultimately seem to matter most and so to... draw as much flavor from the bones as I can. Why can't I say anything straight? Language always eludes me like some strange animal disappearing into a dark forest. And maybe this is why sometimes I see no point in talking. Things are disappearing, and it's not bad and no reason to be scared of it, but... why blubber on giving meaning to the disappearing things? The meaning perhaps is only in the witnessing, for me, anyway, and I like to watch.

I am in a weird mood, because I am reading a book called The Secret Scripture about a 100-year old Irish woman. Her voice is so strange, her thoughts crazy and crystal clear... much madness is divinest sense. Yes, that's how I feel today. I think maybe I'll make a pie later.