WHEELS ON FIRE

Attended my first Minnesota Rollergirls match. My neighbor and the sister of an old 4-H buddy both skate. I had been curious for several years. I had been encouraging my neighbor since she started as a debu-taunt and worked her way onto a team. Way back in the proverbial “day”, aka 1970s, my grandfather took me to a match in southern Minnesota. He was an ardent wrestling fan and thought that it might be fun to watch. I wasn’t impressed by the violence and focused on reading my book. He became overwhelmed by the noise and we left at halftime.

This time I met my friend, sibling of the 4-H-alum skater, at a restaurant for supper and then we proceeded to the Season 10 Championships on Saturday, April 19th, 2014. We procured balcony tickets that cost only $15 but had to stand in line for general admission. We sat with some of her friends and cheered on the team. A well-balanced group from the Twin Cities Unicycle Club performed a pregame show. The music was rather loud but I do enjoy deep industrial synth music.

The game between the Dagger Dolls and Rockits began. Thankfully, a synopsis of the rules is in the program and my friend explained the rest. However, it wasn’t always apparent why people were called into time-out. The brightly clad players whizzed around the oval. They have to have great balance, stamina, and competitiveness to be involved in this sport. It was difficult to read the numbers on their vests so I identified the people by the colors of their leggings. Some of the costumes were extremely tight or rather spartan and I was surprised that no one became completely exposed at some point due to the intensity of the 20-minute match.

There were two games, one for third place, and then Atomic Bombshells against the Garda Belts for the championship. Bagpipes preceded the Garda Belts team, which was cool. Each of the other teams featured a mascot of some type and had color-coded flags and uniforms. Halftime consisted of a 30-minute concert by the Beatle’s tribute band, A Hard Day’s Night. They sounded okay but could use some vocal coaching.

After halftime, the second half of the matches occurred. The smell of sweat, popcorn, and beer filled the auditorium. I was rather perplexed by the people who chose to sit on the floor next to the oval. They would have been hurt if a skater fell on top of them. Several of the skaters hit the unforgiving cement floor badly so I’m sure that they got bruised. Flat track derby is assertive skating with a lot of aggression but not the violence of the previous era.

The games were held at the Roy Wilkins Auditorium in downtown St. Paul. The auditorium is much in need of a rehab. The event was very loud and I was glad that I utilized earplugs. One family brought sound reduction headphones for their kids, including an infant. I think it would have been better to get a babysitter because the vibrations were enough to be unnerving. I felt exhausted afterwards. Interestingly, the DJ ended the night with softer tunes including the Blue Danube; perhaps to help calm the crowd and the players.

The Rockits won third place, and the Garda Belts won the championship for the first time. It is a pro-amateur sport. None of the skaters are paid, even for parking. I am surprised that major corporations don’t sponsor pro-am teams, a little bit of cash would mean a lot to “alternative” sports like lacrosse and any female team. I am completely offended when female teams are sexualized. There was a flag-football league that played in bikinis, which is repulsive. Personally, I am rather perplexed that a full-grown female would choose to be referred a girl. Once you start menstruating you are a woman. What full-grown male wants to be called a boy? However, people can self-identify as they choose. Just don’t call me girl!

www.rollergirls.com and www.northstarrollergirls.com I'd like to view a North Star match and compare the bouts.

Roll on!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

GET IT ON

Hungry, then horney
Thumping carnival of ovulation
Obsessed with procreation
Fill me with chocolate as a consolation
Before the red parade of menses begins
Again.

Beau wanted!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

BLINK OF AN EYE

I am rather embarrassed by the lack of progress made on goals for the winter. I suppose that I fell into light depression due to my mother’s death. My best escape is reading. It focuses my attention and distracts me from sadness or anger. Over six months have passed but I still experience intense sadness and tears. Her birth date, my birthday, and what would have been my parent’s sixtieth wedding anniversary were all difficult days.

I also dealt with a physical illness that stole two months of energy from me. As I have written before, I coughed for about a month. I continued to occasionally hack for two weeks and was tired for another two weeks. The phlegm was milky so I don’t think that it was pneumonia or bronchitis. I have a terrible deductible for the health plan so I didn’t want to add to my already huge debt.

At least Tilly is doing well. She is back to being plump and sassy. You’d never know that she was about to die three months ago. My friend Roopa has started divorce proceedings. Her lawyer sent the papers to her soon-to-be-ex husband’s lawyer but the fool hasn’t filed them yet. This is vexing Roopa. Sadly, she refuses to see a counselor, which I think that both she and the kids could benefit from immensely.

Ted is back in Minnesota. He figured out that he did not have support system in Nevada and that aided to his return to alcoholism. He lost a lot of money during his venture. I have decided to be friendly but not seek friendship with him. He is gratingly pessimistic. Everyone goes through bumps but he is more like a sandpit, he’ll drag me down if I am not careful.

Keep hope alive.
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

IMA’S BOOKWORM REVIEW, VOLUME V, ISSUE 5

Seven for a Secret by Lyndsay Faye Four Worms
First-rate utilization of period vernacular but made understandable for today’s audience, the glossary was helpful. In-depth exploration of pre-civil war slavery and its affects on free blacks wrapped around a mystery. Surprise twist and humor included. Chilling emotional analysis of Grace on pages 276-277. Needed a map and helter-skelter term became redundant.

V-S Day by Allen Steele Three and a Half Worms
Brilliant examination of an alternative scenario with visceral descriptions. Annoying inconsistent use of first, last, and nickname for the same character, which is highly confusing. Final chapters were not as meticulous as the first three-quarters of the novel.

Gemini by Carol Cassella Three Worms
Story woven though time and characters was occasionally confusing because it did not adequately indicate flashbacks. Ending was too abrupt.

Burn by Julianna Baggott Two and a Half Worms
Final book of a trilogy. Needed more back-story to supplement the continuation of the narrative. Logic errors but the ending was strong.

Doomed by Chuck Palahniuk Two and Half Worms
Discombobulated continuation of a series. Some terrific humor interspersed between drool dialogues.

Get lucky with seven!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing: all rights reserved.

SPROUTS UP

The flowers are sleeping
Underneath the snow
The frost locks
Them down below
Strong sunshine will sound the alarm
Thawing soil will be the charm
Stir the roots to soak up rain
The green will rise again.

Smell the chlorophyll!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

TIGGER HOP

Spring has finally sprung after a grueling winter. The birds are merrily tweeting in the tree. They flit from ground to branch building a nest for the eggs that will be deposited soon. Plump squirrels that hibernated through the Polar Vortex are scrounging for food and preparing for the birth of their wee ones.

Sadly, the landscape is still bleak. Odd stuff and trash is revealed by the melting snow. Everything looks brown bland gray and gooey. Mounds of snow persist in the shade. Deep frost is slowing the thaw of the ground. Rain is wonderful but sometimes it puddles on the frozen earth and seeps into my basement.

Stashed away my winter coat and boots only to reluctantly drag them out for the April 3rd snowstorm. Cancelled my Friday plans to spend two hours clearing off the walkways and driveway. My wee but mighty helpful Toro snow-blower vibrated off a bolt, which secures the blower spout. I tried a regular nut to hold it but that rattled off very fast. I had to loop wire around but managed to secure the spout to finish blowing out the terribly heavy snow. I will have to seek the bolts when the snow melts, which started quickly because the sun is so very strong.

I deal in black gold, compost that is. After the compost bins freeze in the fall (generally in late November or early December) I place compostables in old gallon ice cream buckets. I stuff the bucket full and it sits quietly on my porch as tundra. However, as the weather warms so do the microbes. A nasty smell begins to permeate the porch but I cannot deposit the contents until I can scrape a hole in the compost bin. I celebrate the day when I can clear out the buckets and breath freely again.

Seeds were plunged into moist soil starting in January and some have sprouted. The tiny buds of peppers and tomatoes. I plant a few more pots every other week or so with a variety of veggies. I strive to ensure that they don’t’ all ripen at the same time. I had to divide the tomato plants and will have an abundance to share with others, plants in the spring and fruits in the summer. I don’t’ like to consume raw tomatoes but they are welcomed at the food shelf and by my friends who do not have a garden plot.

Look Ma, no coat!!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

COPPER STAR-BUGS

Crouched like a spider
Motionless, hidden just beside the rise
Ready to tangle you in a web of flashing red and white
Pulsing red eyes
Screeching wails fill the night
Making people pull over in fright
As you receive the expensive venom of a speeding ticket.

Drive the speed-limit.
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

HAPPY DAWNING DAY

Babies do not specifically select the date and time of their birth, unless you believe in numerology. They are born when they are ripe and ready, under duress due to a medical condition or else when the parent’s choose a cesarean extraction. I was born on a winter’s day as a result of a lusty summer’s coupling.

My mom always made a big deal out of birthdays. She would have a card and a small gift at breakfast time. Provide warm bread or another treat upon the birthday girl’s arrival home from school and the requisite cake for supper. If the child had acceptable grades and good behavior, we would venture out for a special meal, which was an unusual occurrence. My favorite restaurant was the Lavender Inn in Faribault, MN. It was fancy, smelled great, wonderful food, and contained an art gallery. Granted, most of the artwork was overwrought but I loved looking at the different styles. I was an art critic at an early age.

The past few years have been difficult. Mom had trouble remembering the dates and wasn’t always sure if she had children. Four years ago she stopped being able to cook, three years ago she wasn’t able to send cards, two years ago she had to be prompted who I was to even wish me “Happy Birthday” over the telephone. When I visited near my birthday last year I don’t think that she knew who I was and slept most of the day.

It was especially difficult this year. I had to attend an event for work and keep my emotions in check throughout the day. I had to focus on the job. Every time I thought about her I cried so I shed a lot of tears after work. I volunteered that night at my faith community and was honored by so many people who were concerned and gave me hugs. Again, I heard many stories about people who had “lost” the people who made them. Lost, what an asinine euphemism! I didn’t misplace my mother; she died last fall. She will not be found again on this plane of existence.

A lot of people sent me messages via Facebook. That is nice but I still prefer a physical card. A few people called, which was also nice. The day after my birthday I was surprised at work with a balloon, cake, and flowers from my co-workers. I cried again. They were kinder than I expected. My friends were sweet and took me out for lunch a few days later. They plied me with cute cards and gifts. I began to weep out of gratitude. I am so fortunate to have a support network. I wish that we would communicate and get together more frequently. It is better to have a party than a funeral.

Please reach out to those you hold dear. Meeting them in person is best, but a call is also good. Don’t rely upon social media, texting, or sharing photos as a substitute for a relationship. Humans are social creatures; we need healthy and stable relationships to thrive. Call your Mom and Dad (if you can) today!

Call home.
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

WEARY OLD ME

Every residual injury shouts with pain, each cell hurts. Aspirin isn’t enough to block the discomfort signals in the brain which also aches. Problem concentrating on… the task at hand. Difficult to conduct an intelligent conversation. My body buzzes, not with the hyper hum of adrenalin but the negative frenzy of fatigue.

After almost two weeks of non-stop work and other responsibilities I am too tired to sleep. Overly sensitive to light, noise, smell, and vibrations. Eating constantly to stay awake even though I am not hungry. Caffeine consumed to the point that I have the jitters. I just want the agony to end but I must plow forward until I can rest.

Wrinkle and dark bags hang like lazy moons under my eyes. I don’t smile much but feel emotional. Irritability complicated by “riding the moon” an odd euphemism for menses. Watch the clock in anticipation of a restless nocturnal venture. The feather dance is illusive without a cat on my lap. Obsessed with finishing each consecutive task, three, two. Cursing when responsibilities are added which delay the rest time as I feel relief when completing the final chore of the day. Must drive home safely.

Increasing dependence upon lists as the week wears on. I am obliged to write the reminder on a piece of paper or it will flit out of my mind like a leaf blowing in the wind. Handwriting becomes illegible. Verbal blunders increase. Dreaming of a lax schedule, though there is always cleaning to do, cats to cuddle, people to see, job search to conduct, blogs to write and post, and books to read. Some days I just want to be a lump on the couch.

The first day of rehabilitation is about sleeping and cleaning the essentials. Cats and the kitchen appreciate a scrub. Second day of recuperation is reconnecting with friends and tiding the home. Third day includes reading, increasing orderliness, blogging, job search, and enjoying the spring-ish weather. Not fully recovered but well enough to tackle work the next day.

Clean for spring!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

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PS I am still paying off Tilly's operation fee. She is doing well but my pocketbook is empty...

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Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved