Busyness, broken hearts and boots

Still alive - just finished a project and sent it off.

The problem with having a public holiday is that you child is home, even if your sporadic workload cannot account for that.

Oh, and your partner is home - although that has been a constant of late, what with him having lurgy for most of last week and his own sporadic workload not reigniting until Wednesday.

Had a busy weekend: Continued wrecking the kitchen (this is not intentional, just a combination of coast living and chipboard cupboards...); groceries; markets; playdates; fishing; mowing; playing; cooking and trying to catch up with myself - didn't succeed.

Have a busy week ahead: work report due and volunteering in 'Salina's class tomorrow; tuck-shop lady Wednesday and Friday (as new regular lady is turning 40 and has all her relatives - several wheelchair-bound - in town); networking and learning furiously at Agro-Trend on Thursday and possibly Saturday; trying to finally get to a poetry event also on Saturday...

Somewhere in there I need to clean the bathroom (as in I am ashamed of it, and for it to be at that level it needs doing); wash the floors (so as to stop me from sticking in one spot); keep up with the laundry (there is no pause button) and feed the people who appreciate my cooking!

Of course, last week when I was not so flustered - I had no inspiration. Now I appear to be overloaded I have ideas for blog posts coming out of my ears. Honestly, they keep me awake at night (along with to-do lists, pitches for new business, wedding plans and the forgotten details of the day).

For those of you easily influenced by my sister baying for poems: Hidden within these posts, and all of this post actually have some of my work.

But here is another for a blogger who I read often and is going through a bit of a tough time:

---

MY HEART


I offered my heart
No strings
No regrets
On a platter to the one I found love in.

It was a good heart
Large enough to give
And give
To many, for many purposes.

You, lover one,
You took this heart
Studded it with garlic
Spiced it with chilli and other herbs
Boiled it quickly in a mixture of wine, vinegar and stock,
And, about to consume it, seemed surprised when I said
“No”.

I picked up my abused organ
And vowed this would never happen again.


So, next Spring,
Along comes lover two.

I offered my heart,
In halves
For the promised returned of another.


It was still a good deal.
This heart I presented was nimble,
Expandable,
Yet able to be carried with apparent ease.

You, lover two,
You took this half,
And buried it in the back corner of your yard,
Covered it with leaves and twigs
So that it looked like none was there
Said some magic incantation over it to make it stay
And guarded it with a barbed wire fence.
Yet you were also surprised when, upon seeing this ritual,
I said
“No”.

I dug out my tattered organ
And vowed this would never happen again.


So, August year next,
Along comes lover three.

I offered redeemable stakes in my heart,
Non-voting shares,
Little profit likely,
A denigrated deal.

You, lover three,
Spat on it.
Yet still you seemed surprised when I said
“No”.

I wrapped my desecrated organ in tenderest dressings,
And vowed this would never happen again.

© Sophie Jean 1993

---

By the way, neither 'Salina's father NOR V are represented in the above poem - it was written when much younger and learning the ways of life - there have been a few more stanzas along the way, just not incorporated!

If I get my creative hat on, I will have three posts coming up for you, my faithful readers, to judge which is most worthy to enter into Scribbit's monthly writing competition - obviously it is open to everyone, so see if you can dust off your shoe stories for it too!

Of course, I am the opposite of the stereotypical shoe-loving diva, and so what shoe memories I have are quite distinct and bizarre - thus the inspiration for three.

Lets hope I get around to it!