by Pat Laster
FAREWELL
(a Farewell pattern with Acrostic)
G alloping swiftly, as on fire;
O ver minutes, hours and days,
O beying nature’s agenda,
D ashing through time down the
B ackstretch of December,
Y ou daze us with speed—an
E ntire year gone.
c 2011 – Pat Laster
~~~
FIND SOMETHING USEFUL YOU CAN DO EACH DAY
(a Villanelle pattern)
Find something useful you can do each day
that isn’t subject to the world’s review,
that alters life around you in some way.
Your friends may need an advocate and pray
for you to light their way and help them through;
find something useful you can do each day.
You’ll make the earth a better place to stay
if you engage yourself in derring-do
that alters life around you in some way.
A smile, a thank-you note, a gay bouquet,
some thoughtful deed to make a life less blue;
find something useful you can do each day.
You need a useful task to lift dismay,
a project you can throw your heart into
that alters life around you in some way.
It may be taking time to read or play,
or dreaming of the things you’ve yet to do.
Find something useful you can do each day
that alters life around you in some way.
c 2011 Pat Laster
~~~
AND THEN I SAW IT WAS JANUARY
(a Laurette pattern sequence)
I looked around
some days beyond
December, found the year
had fled. Instead
the Janus month,
cold January’s here!
Oh, snow and ice
and bitter cold.
The north wind howls apace.
The schools are closed,
some churches, too,
but, oh! Bright winter’s face!
The old cat sleeps
beside the fire,
his paw above an eye.
Before too long,
’Mom Nature will
blow January by.
c 2011 Pat Laster
~~~
I had intended to include William Carlos Williams' "Burning of the Christmas Greens," but thought better of it since I couldn't find who owned the copyright.
May the memories of Christmas strengthen you for the vagaries of the New Year.
God bless us every one.
###
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Christmas letters
by Pat Laster
Dear Gas Company: Before you send me a letter saying my gas usage was way above all my “efficient neighbors,” let me explain.
My college-age grandson/"fifth child”--whom we in this neighborhood call Kid Billy, though he’s definitely not a kid by chronological age—is home for the holidays. That means all the time he’s in his room, he has the window AC, the oscillating fan and the ceiling fan going. (He likes it cold.) Even though his door is closed, there is still leakage of cold air.
Since the gas heater for the three bedrooms and bath is in the hall, and since one bedroom—KB’s “game room,”—is on the northwest corner of the house—the stove runs constantly when it is cold outside.
The second gas heater warms the living/ dining rooms and the office-cum-blue room where I write when I can. The gas log unit pilot is still unlit and while the “fireplace” is pretty, it doesn’t put out much heat—just memories.
I have used the dishwasher a lot this month washing all 125 pieces of Avon’s red Cape Cod glassware that I have collected/been given. And which I intend to use on Christmas.
Plus, I washed all other glassware--which “sat out” collecting dust--on the buffet, the piano, the mantel, the book shelves and in the windows of the blue room. So that is some of the gas usage.
The clothes dryer has not seen any extra work this month; however, I notice KB lugged his bin of (what were--after Thanksgiving--clean) clothes home. He seems to be living out of it.
I hope this letter will explain my place as 95th (or whatever high number you give me) out of a hundred neighbors in gas usage for the month. Fondly, one who went from #6 in November (good) probably through the roof in December, pl
Dear National Wildlife, Easter Seals, and others who send labels and greeting cards without being asked to do so. Sorry, but I’m not as good a person as my mom was. She felt guilty about using the enclosures without sending you at least $5 for your trouble.
I figure you know what you’re doing, giving away freebies. Oh yes, in the past, I’ve sent money for your causes. But now, with a kid in college (at my advanced age), and with the economy like it is, I have to watch my pennies, er, dollars closer than before. Merry Christmas and Happy 2012.
To the folks who prey on seasonal guilt, groups like children’s homes, church food pantries, and all other charities who keep the postal carriers busier than usual this time of year, hear ye: I throw your solicitations straight into the recycling bin. Unless, of course, they contain gift tags, labels, stickers, or notepads.
To the magazine people who keep sending notices to renew at (probably) a great cut rate for a subscription I took out because of a granddaughter’s school’s “gimme” project, cut it out! Save your money. No, wait. Postal carriers rely on junk mail (I was told once by a mailperson). Be it known that your letters also go straight into recycling.
Dear friends and family who have sent greeting cards this season: Thank you for spending your precious funds to wish KB and me a solicitous and felicitous season. May it be also with you.
Merry Christmas—or Happy Holidays—to all.
c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
Dear Gas Company: Before you send me a letter saying my gas usage was way above all my “efficient neighbors,” let me explain.
My college-age grandson/"fifth child”--whom we in this neighborhood call Kid Billy, though he’s definitely not a kid by chronological age—is home for the holidays. That means all the time he’s in his room, he has the window AC, the oscillating fan and the ceiling fan going. (He likes it cold.) Even though his door is closed, there is still leakage of cold air.
Since the gas heater for the three bedrooms and bath is in the hall, and since one bedroom—KB’s “game room,”—is on the northwest corner of the house—the stove runs constantly when it is cold outside.
The second gas heater warms the living/ dining rooms and the office-cum-blue room where I write when I can. The gas log unit pilot is still unlit and while the “fireplace” is pretty, it doesn’t put out much heat—just memories.
I have used the dishwasher a lot this month washing all 125 pieces of Avon’s red Cape Cod glassware that I have collected/been given. And which I intend to use on Christmas.
Plus, I washed all other glassware--which “sat out” collecting dust--on the buffet, the piano, the mantel, the book shelves and in the windows of the blue room. So that is some of the gas usage.
The clothes dryer has not seen any extra work this month; however, I notice KB lugged his bin of (what were--after Thanksgiving--clean) clothes home. He seems to be living out of it.
I hope this letter will explain my place as 95th (or whatever high number you give me) out of a hundred neighbors in gas usage for the month. Fondly, one who went from #6 in November (good) probably through the roof in December, pl
Dear National Wildlife, Easter Seals, and others who send labels and greeting cards without being asked to do so. Sorry, but I’m not as good a person as my mom was. She felt guilty about using the enclosures without sending you at least $5 for your trouble.
I figure you know what you’re doing, giving away freebies. Oh yes, in the past, I’ve sent money for your causes. But now, with a kid in college (at my advanced age), and with the economy like it is, I have to watch my pennies, er, dollars closer than before. Merry Christmas and Happy 2012.
To the folks who prey on seasonal guilt, groups like children’s homes, church food pantries, and all other charities who keep the postal carriers busier than usual this time of year, hear ye: I throw your solicitations straight into the recycling bin. Unless, of course, they contain gift tags, labels, stickers, or notepads.
To the magazine people who keep sending notices to renew at (probably) a great cut rate for a subscription I took out because of a granddaughter’s school’s “gimme” project, cut it out! Save your money. No, wait. Postal carriers rely on junk mail (I was told once by a mailperson). Be it known that your letters also go straight into recycling.
Dear friends and family who have sent greeting cards this season: Thank you for spending your precious funds to wish KB and me a solicitous and felicitous season. May it be also with you.
Merry Christmas—or Happy Holidays—to all.
c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Seasonal preparations continue
by Pat Laster
Little by little, slowly but surely, Couchwood is beginning to look more like Christmas and winter. Sunday night I washed the last two windows and laid “blankets of snow” on the frames where upper and lower sections meet. On the “snow” are freshly washed pieces of cobalt blue glass--the light-weight ones ballasted with marbles.
Monday’s task was to organize the loose papers from the library table, one end of the buffet-cum-cabinet and the work table in the middle of the room. My BFF Dot (dothatfield.com) wrote on her blog last week about kudzu. My flat surfaces are kudzu-ed for sure.Here it is Thursday and those papers are still a mess.
When I told people that I was taking a break from church, one person said, “But the Christmas music! You don’t want to miss the Christmas music, do you?”
My CD and cassette players, the radio, the two bell symphony music boxes Billy (and his mother) bought me, the Christmas VHS movies, the piano with all the Christmas songbooks out of the bench and onto the ledge—how can I miss Christmas music? (OK, writer friends, I know I used Christmas five times in two paragraphs, but…)
Oh, and I was lucky enough to get invited to ride along to the River City Men’s Chorus Christmas concert last week. Talk about beautiful music! But a downside: the next morning, I had a fresh cold, a sore throat, as well as all-day sneezing and dripping, the first such malady to hit in many years that lasted longer than 24 hours.
Alas! My paperback dictionary finally came apart at the “o”s. (If I were on Facebook, would that be the kind of information I’d post?) Keeping to the trivial, I have something in common with Taylor Swift, who at 21, is the same age as grandson/ward Billy: “I love a good flea market,” she told Parade magazine.
Parts of Arkansas woke up to a surprise snow last week Check out my blog, pittypatter.blogspot.com to read some poems that developed from it.
Records for a one-day rainfall fell in five Arkansas towns on December 5. Amounts at Adams Field in Little Rock broke the record set in 1936 (my birth year). In North Little Rock, the last record was set in 1984. In Hot Springs, in 1996. At the Jacksonville/Little Rock Air Force Base, rain shattered the old record set in 1984. And in Batesville, the record set in 1943 was broken. I still haven’t dared look in my basement to see how high the water is.
Billy auditioned for next semester's Henderson State University Chamber Singers and “made it,” he told me last week. Color me proud, again. I missed their concert a Sunday or three ago. It was raining and I didn’t want to drive in it. Color me cowardly. He said me there was a link to viewing it, but he’s yet to show me where.
Hot Springs’ son Eric “didn’t get even one shot off” during this deer season, he said. None he saw was large enough to produce a “trophy.” But his 10-year-old niece (my granddaughter) Emma killed two in Mississippi. There should be enough venison to go around in the Paulus-Laster family in 2012.
May it be so with you and yours.
Little by little, slowly but surely, Couchwood is beginning to look more like Christmas and winter. Sunday night I washed the last two windows and laid “blankets of snow” on the frames where upper and lower sections meet. On the “snow” are freshly washed pieces of cobalt blue glass--the light-weight ones ballasted with marbles.
Monday’s task was to organize the loose papers from the library table, one end of the buffet-cum-cabinet and the work table in the middle of the room. My BFF Dot (dothatfield.com) wrote on her blog last week about kudzu. My flat surfaces are kudzu-ed for sure.Here it is Thursday and those papers are still a mess.
When I told people that I was taking a break from church, one person said, “But the Christmas music! You don’t want to miss the Christmas music, do you?”
My CD and cassette players, the radio, the two bell symphony music boxes Billy (and his mother) bought me, the Christmas VHS movies, the piano with all the Christmas songbooks out of the bench and onto the ledge—how can I miss Christmas music? (OK, writer friends, I know I used Christmas five times in two paragraphs, but…)
Oh, and I was lucky enough to get invited to ride along to the River City Men’s Chorus Christmas concert last week. Talk about beautiful music! But a downside: the next morning, I had a fresh cold, a sore throat, as well as all-day sneezing and dripping, the first such malady to hit in many years that lasted longer than 24 hours.
Alas! My paperback dictionary finally came apart at the “o”s. (If I were on Facebook, would that be the kind of information I’d post?) Keeping to the trivial, I have something in common with Taylor Swift, who at 21, is the same age as grandson/ward Billy: “I love a good flea market,” she told Parade magazine.
Parts of Arkansas woke up to a surprise snow last week Check out my blog, pittypatter.blogspot.com to read some poems that developed from it.
Records for a one-day rainfall fell in five Arkansas towns on December 5. Amounts at Adams Field in Little Rock broke the record set in 1936 (my birth year). In North Little Rock, the last record was set in 1984. In Hot Springs, in 1996. At the Jacksonville/Little Rock Air Force Base, rain shattered the old record set in 1984. And in Batesville, the record set in 1943 was broken. I still haven’t dared look in my basement to see how high the water is.
Billy auditioned for next semester's Henderson State University Chamber Singers and “made it,” he told me last week. Color me proud, again. I missed their concert a Sunday or three ago. It was raining and I didn’t want to drive in it. Color me cowardly. He said me there was a link to viewing it, but he’s yet to show me where.
Hot Springs’ son Eric “didn’t get even one shot off” during this deer season, he said. None he saw was large enough to produce a “trophy.” But his 10-year-old niece (my granddaughter) Emma killed two in Mississippi. There should be enough venison to go around in the Paulus-Laster family in 2012.
May it be so with you and yours.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Another report card from the gas company
by Pat Laster
One day last week, I made a quick trip to Arkadelphia. Kid Billy had left his choir folder on the piano when his Thanksgiving break was done. It was my suggestion to leave it there, thinking I would play over some of the music while he sang his part. Never happened.
On the way through Benton, I stopped at Goodwill to see if they had a solid blue tie and a solid red tie, which he said he could use. I forgot until just now that he also asked for a gold long-sleeved dress shirt, or I would have looked for that, too.
Next stop was Payless, where I purchased two pair of brown shoes—one less dressy but laced, one darker but slip-on. Because his socks in the wash were such rags, I also selected a 6-pack of tube socks and a like amount of low-cut ones. Making arrangements with the clerk to return with the pair of shoes and pack of socks that he didn’t want, I drove off south.
Just so happened that when I got to the Caddo River—our traditional calling landmark—I found him in Caddo, the HSU cafeteria. He directed me to a meeting place. But, saying he had food waiting for him, he politely took all the purchases without even looking at them, thanked me kindly and directed me off the campus. So much for returns. It’s a good thing I had a $15-off coupon!
While that close to Bismarck, I called a writer friend who is soon to move to Durham, NC, and asked her if she could meet me at Cracker Barrel for lunch. “I’ll see you in a couple minutes,” she crowed, but it turned out to be a few more than that. I browsed at the lovely (expensive) items while I waited.
We had the best visit, the longest visit, the most personal visit in all our friendship, which dates back to when KB and I lived in Arkadelphia during the late 1990s and early 2000s.
On the way out of the restaurant, we passed a young serviceman sitting alone. I stopped, stuck out my hand—which he took—and said, “Thank you for your service.” He smiled and thanked me back.
Remember the chide from the gas company about my using waaaay more gas for heating than my “efficient neighbors?” I emailed them, but got nowhere. Last weekend, I received another letter giving me a “GREAT” and two smiley faces. I had used 80% less gas this month, only two CCF. “Efficient” neighbors averaged ten CCF and “All neighbors” used 19. My rank—out of 100 neighbors—was #6. Their suggestions for energy saving: check air filters each month, seal air leaks, be smart about dish washing—only full loads, use air-dry setting, avoid special cycles like ‘rinse only.’
Happy 49th birthday (on December 3) to my second son Eric, a career highway department employee, who lives in Hot Springs with wife Lisa and daughter Lainee. His son James lives in Little Rock. Color me proud, proud, proud.
Final note on the lentil-sweet potato fiasco: even the outside cats wouldn’t eat it! Am I gonna gripe at that gal who submitted the recipe in the first place!
One day last week, I made a quick trip to Arkadelphia. Kid Billy had left his choir folder on the piano when his Thanksgiving break was done. It was my suggestion to leave it there, thinking I would play over some of the music while he sang his part. Never happened.
On the way through Benton, I stopped at Goodwill to see if they had a solid blue tie and a solid red tie, which he said he could use. I forgot until just now that he also asked for a gold long-sleeved dress shirt, or I would have looked for that, too.
Next stop was Payless, where I purchased two pair of brown shoes—one less dressy but laced, one darker but slip-on. Because his socks in the wash were such rags, I also selected a 6-pack of tube socks and a like amount of low-cut ones. Making arrangements with the clerk to return with the pair of shoes and pack of socks that he didn’t want, I drove off south.
Just so happened that when I got to the Caddo River—our traditional calling landmark—I found him in Caddo, the HSU cafeteria. He directed me to a meeting place. But, saying he had food waiting for him, he politely took all the purchases without even looking at them, thanked me kindly and directed me off the campus. So much for returns. It’s a good thing I had a $15-off coupon!
While that close to Bismarck, I called a writer friend who is soon to move to Durham, NC, and asked her if she could meet me at Cracker Barrel for lunch. “I’ll see you in a couple minutes,” she crowed, but it turned out to be a few more than that. I browsed at the lovely (expensive) items while I waited.
We had the best visit, the longest visit, the most personal visit in all our friendship, which dates back to when KB and I lived in Arkadelphia during the late 1990s and early 2000s.
On the way out of the restaurant, we passed a young serviceman sitting alone. I stopped, stuck out my hand—which he took—and said, “Thank you for your service.” He smiled and thanked me back.
Remember the chide from the gas company about my using waaaay more gas for heating than my “efficient neighbors?” I emailed them, but got nowhere. Last weekend, I received another letter giving me a “GREAT” and two smiley faces. I had used 80% less gas this month, only two CCF. “Efficient” neighbors averaged ten CCF and “All neighbors” used 19. My rank—out of 100 neighbors—was #6. Their suggestions for energy saving: check air filters each month, seal air leaks, be smart about dish washing—only full loads, use air-dry setting, avoid special cycles like ‘rinse only.’
Happy 49th birthday (on December 3) to my second son Eric, a career highway department employee, who lives in Hot Springs with wife Lisa and daughter Lainee. His son James lives in Little Rock. Color me proud, proud, proud.
Final note on the lentil-sweet potato fiasco: even the outside cats wouldn’t eat it! Am I gonna gripe at that gal who submitted the recipe in the first place!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
A lull between Thanksgiving and Christmas
by Pat Laster
I love the Fridays after Thanksgiving. No Black Fridays in my activities. I rested, listened to the Razorback-Tiger game as I added journal jottings to the book-in-progress.
Collegian/grandson Billy watched the game from his air-conditioned bedroom, snacking on Doritos, dip and flavored water. On Thanksgiving, he was one of five young men and two young women at our family gathering—an unusual happening. One baby and a ten-year-old added more spice and flavor to our event.
I didn’t hear anyone groan because of over-eating, but here’s such a complaint I wrote two years ago for our local poets’ contest.
I Did it Again! An Overeater’s Complaint
As men of old did, so I bring
my thanks—for Alka-Seltzer! Sling
--or hide—leftover turkey. Take
me to the bed; my stomachache,
with time and darkness, should abate.
Do not disturb. I loathe myself
each year. With this much food, the elf
and waif within insist I eat
three platefuls: broccoli and sweet
potatoes, dressing, gravy, beans,
cranberry sauce and rolls. My jeans!
Unzip my jeans before I burst!
Ah -- aah. That’s good. I get immersed
in savoring the tastes of pies.
The mincemeat, pumpkin testifies
to culinary skills of those
among us. Cakes and fudge impose
their calories. Today, if I should die,
please bury me with spoon and apple pie.
An item in Joey Green’s book, Contrary to Popular Belief (Broadway Books, 2005) will cover the period between the last of November and Christmas.
In an entry titled, “The Mayflower did not land at Plymouth Rock,” he says that none of the diaries of the Pilgrims mentioned Plymouth Rock. “The Mayflower landed at Provincetown on Cape Cod on November 25, 1620, but deemed the spot unsuitable.”
So a scouting party headed by Captain Miles Standish took an open boat, stopping at Eastham on December 10 and Plymouth on December 26.
A follow-up on last week’s Lentil-Sweet Potato Salad. BAD FLOP. Tasted OK if one likes lentils, but it looked as pitiful as anything I’ve seen. First off, I cooked the entire package of lentils, but I measured out half of them which equaled one cup.
Without weighing, how much potato is two pounds? Its dressing—all of the ingredients I had to buy new—was too sparse for the veggies. I will turn it into either lentil soup or into outside-cat food. The five feral felines will eat … should eat it if they’re hungry enough.
I will spend the week between now and December 3 cleaning floors and windows, moving papers off table tops and organizing them—or tossing toward the recycle box. It is amazing to me how five flat surfaces in this office can gather so much stuff. Surely your office space is neater.
May your early run-up to Christmas be full of dust cloths and window cleaner and wax and furniture polish. And may all of your strings of Christmas lights work at the first plug-in. May your hoses and lawn furniture be out of sight until spring, and don’t forget to add Stabile to your lawn mowers and boat motors.
Welcome to December.
I love the Fridays after Thanksgiving. No Black Fridays in my activities. I rested, listened to the Razorback-Tiger game as I added journal jottings to the book-in-progress.
Collegian/grandson Billy watched the game from his air-conditioned bedroom, snacking on Doritos, dip and flavored water. On Thanksgiving, he was one of five young men and two young women at our family gathering—an unusual happening. One baby and a ten-year-old added more spice and flavor to our event.
I didn’t hear anyone groan because of over-eating, but here’s such a complaint I wrote two years ago for our local poets’ contest.
I Did it Again! An Overeater’s Complaint
As men of old did, so I bring
my thanks—for Alka-Seltzer! Sling
--or hide—leftover turkey. Take
me to the bed; my stomachache,
with time and darkness, should abate.
Do not disturb. I loathe myself
each year. With this much food, the elf
and waif within insist I eat
three platefuls: broccoli and sweet
potatoes, dressing, gravy, beans,
cranberry sauce and rolls. My jeans!
Unzip my jeans before I burst!
Ah -- aah. That’s good. I get immersed
in savoring the tastes of pies.
The mincemeat, pumpkin testifies
to culinary skills of those
among us. Cakes and fudge impose
their calories. Today, if I should die,
please bury me with spoon and apple pie.
An item in Joey Green’s book, Contrary to Popular Belief (Broadway Books, 2005) will cover the period between the last of November and Christmas.
In an entry titled, “The Mayflower did not land at Plymouth Rock,” he says that none of the diaries of the Pilgrims mentioned Plymouth Rock. “The Mayflower landed at Provincetown on Cape Cod on November 25, 1620, but deemed the spot unsuitable.”
So a scouting party headed by Captain Miles Standish took an open boat, stopping at Eastham on December 10 and Plymouth on December 26.
A follow-up on last week’s Lentil-Sweet Potato Salad. BAD FLOP. Tasted OK if one likes lentils, but it looked as pitiful as anything I’ve seen. First off, I cooked the entire package of lentils, but I measured out half of them which equaled one cup.
Without weighing, how much potato is two pounds? Its dressing—all of the ingredients I had to buy new—was too sparse for the veggies. I will turn it into either lentil soup or into outside-cat food. The five feral felines will eat … should eat it if they’re hungry enough.
I will spend the week between now and December 3 cleaning floors and windows, moving papers off table tops and organizing them—or tossing toward the recycle box. It is amazing to me how five flat surfaces in this office can gather so much stuff. Surely your office space is neater.
May your early run-up to Christmas be full of dust cloths and window cleaner and wax and furniture polish. And may all of your strings of Christmas lights work at the first plug-in. May your hoses and lawn furniture be out of sight until spring, and don’t forget to add Stabile to your lawn mowers and boat motors.
Welcome to December.
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