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Sunday, July 30, 2023

Don't Forget the Croissants

Several months ago I thought of three things I wanted to Google. As each occurred to me (never while I was actually at the computer or apparently even within reach of a pen and paper), I would file it away mentally so I could retrieve it later from my brain. Well, you know how this is going to end up. I forgot all three of them.

 

And then, once a fortnight, one of them would pop into my head and I'd exclaim (silently but with all the excitement of an over-stimulated cartoon character), "Oh, that's what I wanted to look up! Now what were the others?" And then I'd forget that one and never recover the others.

 

Over the span of a recent week I caught hold of two of the three. I Googled how to make an amaryllis re-bloom and found out that I was about four months late to do it properly, but I took the bulb, thriving with its strappy leaves, to the basement and will deprive it of water and light just the same. It may work. It may not.

 

Remembering the second question made me even more excited. I've made croissants since I was twenty, though at intervals of a dozen years. But every time I bake them, the baking sheets are filled with butter that oozes out and melts (rather, "melts and oozes out"). I thought this was normal. But then I bought a bakery's frozen unbaked croissants and they didn't ooze butter as I baked them. So that was my Google question: why do my homemade croissants ooze melted butter?

 

And the answer popped up in a nano-second: they haven't been proofed long enough. And this made perfect sense to me. There were further explanations, but they didn't really pertain. So the next time I make croissants (and I can tell I'm about due because my taste buds are getting set and I'm checking the freezer to be sure we have the required 84% butter on hand)—anyway, the next time I'll proof them from frozen overnight in a cold oven. Then all that butter will stay in the roll and end up on my hips, the way it's supposed to.

 

 
 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
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Sunday, July 23, 2023

On Being Read a Poem

I heard a poem read aloud but couldn't take it in.

My attention was high-jacked by a word,

an unusual image,

that whisked me away with the fairies

to ruminate and cogitate

and meanwhile

the poem continued to be read aloud

but I,

I was no longer in attendance,

instead creating pies in the sky

and clouds and crowds of daffodils

that cheered the greyness of that day.

Daffodils floated in my head

but the poet continued to speak,

when I returned to the room,

of hats (under his) and keeping quiet

(the difficulty of)

and I turned my ears away from his reality

and returned to the yellow gold of jonquils,

daffy-down-dillies,

narcissi,

trumpet flowers—

Mother Nature's silliest shapes

created to lighten our hearts.

 

 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor




 

Sunday, July 16, 2023

On the Floor

On the floor is often a place for exercising. Yoga mats go on the floor and even if it isn't actual yoga that you're practicing, still those exercises have to be done on the floor. Planks, for example. Crunches. Such-like.

 

A while ago I began following a simple exercise routine designed to foster flexibility and movement in aging bodies. All the exercises were so simple that even I could do them. Except for one. And that one alone would constitute a complete exercise program—if one could do it. If one could force oneself to do it. Namely: get on the floor and then move yourself to a standing position.

 

Now I don't remember a lot from my past, but I do remember taking a one-term modern dance class as a gym requirement at university. And I remember sitting on the floor, one leg bent, the other out straight, then swooping gracefully to a standing position with no effort at all. I loved the feeling of power that gave me. I wasn't much for body-based activities, then or ever, but modern dance I liked.

 

So I got on the floor for this current exercise routine, and I tried to get up. Swooping from sitting to standing is no longer one of my options. I roll over to all fours. And wow! Does that hurt the bones of my knees! Given how easily my knees bruise these days, it's hard to believe that I spent thirteen years, more or less, kneeling at daily Mass. On unpadded kneelers. Maybe if I'd kept it up my knees would be tougher now.

 

So there I am on all fours, waiting for inspiration to float me to standing. When that doesn't happen I rest my forearms on a nearby chair and lift one knee off the ground, putting that foot flat on the floor. Leaning with all my strength—and I'm not exaggerating here; I mean ALL my strength—I use my upper body for support as I scramble to get both feet under me and gradually lever myself to a standing position.

 

The exercise routine calls for three or four repetitions of this in each session. Maybe if I'd continued, powered my way through over and over—maybe I'd have built up some leg strength. But I didn't and I didn't.

 

My constant hope now is to avoid finding myself accidentally on the floor and revealing to anyone else the difficulty I have getting up. Where did this come from? Was I really supposed to practice my modern dance levitation from the time I learned it (at 19) through every stage of my life until now? If I had done that, would I not be so embarrassingly weak? Ah, well. Didn't do that either.

 

Good thing there are no really young grandchildren around now. I could join them on the floor to play blocks and games, but then I'd be stuck there until someone brought in a crane.

 

 
 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
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Sunday, July 9, 2023

The Common Good

Easy to forget the common good

immersed as we are in our petty

but oh-so-vital predicaments:

what to wear, what to eat,

where to go, whom to see.

We are consumed from dawn to dusk

with the trivia of our lives.

 

So let's reflect for a time

on the common good.

Of all the energies of our existence

it is surely oneness that is

the essential component.

How to engage so as to remain aware of

our common existence?

This is the question to which I will apply myself

and in so doing I will stumble upon the answer—

because that's how it works.

What I give my attention to

is what will grow into life.

The answer may still be beyond me

but I'm gaining on it.

 
 
 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor




 

Sunday, July 2, 2023

How to Spend the Days

Lucky stars are there to be thanked. Life continues. A long day is open to planning or to the unexpected, to delight and fear and boredom, and to little pings of joy through it all.

 

A day opens up, same as, different from, the one before, the one coming after. Some you have to slog through but the next might call for actual skipping (which may remain symbolic, or metaphorical, or virtual, depending on the state of your knees). Skipping is always good. Spend the day skipping in your heart. Through the night you can plan the next day's skipping.

 

 
Copyright © 2023 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor
Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor