Life in Haiku

March 18:  

  

Cupcakes, soft and sweet,

Icing piled high upon top

I resist, then eat.

Six weeks to teach class

Hard work, late nights, stress galore.  

Slowly, it does pass. 

My "mole" is not a mole. 

My foot is healthy and well,

but for the little hole.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Morning

March 4: 

These woods are ones I really know. 

I drive through them daily to and fro; 

I sometimes like to stop here 

To watch the woods fill up with snow. 

My little car must think it queer 

To drive with so many snowflakes near 

In the quiet woods near my house just starting to awake

The gray and sparkly morning:  likely the last of the year. 

I pause to soak it in and then a deep breath take  

And brace myself for another day to move and shake. 

My list of things to-do is long and deep 

Full of busy tasks and decisions to make. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, 

But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep, 

And miles to go before I sleep.

with apologies to Robert Frost

*************************

Missing in Action

In the 100-hours since I've been home from my trip to San Diego,  I've slept through the alarm once,  forgotten to give Ellie her medicine twice, eaten my weight in chocolate, missed paying an important bill, forgotten a commitment, didn't enforce the kids' music practice at all, and for the first 24-hours thought all the toiletries had been stolen out of my bag until I found them all right underneath my bag the next day.

In other words....my brain is officially missing in action.  

I think I used it a couple times in San Diego while trying to figure out the music settings on my phone.    And maybe a little at Trader Joes when I pondered whether to get peppermint or chocolate covered JoeJoes and ended up buying both.     But other than that, I haven't seen it at all.  

In the meantime, my brainless state has proven to be a bit of a liability for me.    A couple of days ago, I eagerly tried to take advantage of a great earlybird discount for ordering our Christmas cards.   I designed what I thought was a very hilarious Hobbit themed Christmas card, but was a bit disheartened when I promptly got shot down by all my proof-readers because the card was  too nativity-ish and trashy at the same time.  Think about that for a minute.   Yep, they used nativity and trashy in the same sentence, which meant that I promptly ordered a million of them on the spot.  

Then yesterday, after thinking briefly that I might have regained the use of my cognitive abilities again,  I decided to help my mom out in her quest to collect the rest of the Christmas wish lists from my siblings.     I thought myself extremely clever and informed my entire extended family that my mom was buying them all puppies unless they sent her their list  pronto.     Unfortunately, my clever plot was quickly foiled when on the spot one of my brothers gladly rescinded his Christmas list and is now expecting  a cute little puppy in his stocking.  Sorry, Mom.

Then tonight I was writing this blogpost, and  I thought to myself, "Lara, (because I always refer to myself in third-person in my thoughts) Why not embrace your newfound empty-headedness and start writing poetry?"  

Hmmmm, why not indeed?      

See my first masterpiece:

My name used to be Lara Crain, 

but now it is Lara No-Brain. 

I love to sleep 

and hope my kids don't make a peep,

because if there's nothing in my head, 

I may as well be in bed.  

Good night! 

Bad Poetry Recap of Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Mommy was wondering when the lights would be dowsed;
The mismatching stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
And Daddy was threatening that they would all stay bare;

Unless the children were soon nestled all snug in their beds,
with nothing other than "Zzzzzz's" going through their heads.

They were all decked out in pajamas and 'staches,
when Ellie exclaimed with fluttering lashes

That she still had to write Santa a letter
and that letters to the reindeer and the elves would be even better.

Away to the pencils I flew with a dash,
Tore out the papers and told her to write like a flash.

Thirty minutes and three letters later,
our eyes were all bleary and I was as antsy as a gator,

to get on with sewing and munching and wrapping,
and sleeping and snoozing and napping.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard as quiet as a beetle
The chinking and humming of two knitting needles.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I saw Emma knitting a scarf as long as the town.

She was dressed all in pink, from her head to her foot,
And her glasses reflected the lights like glistening loot.

Finally, more rapid than eagles my threatenings they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Spence! now, Cami! now, Emma...stop your pitchin'!
On, Adam! on, Ellie! It's time to get out of the kitchen!
To the end of the hall! to your bedrooms without gall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

Although my belly was chubby and round as an elf
from eating the cookie plate all by myself,
  I laughed when we finished our tasks and I glanced at the clock.
For it was still before midnight and I knew that we rock!

A slow blink of my eye and a glimpse of our bed,
And I knew that there would soon be a pillow under my head. 

A few hours later, Emma sprang from her bed, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
Emptying the stockings and wondering why Santa was such a jerk,
that he labeled all of the presents with indecipherable code names
like Eleanor Roosevelt, Thomas Jefferson, and others of historical fame.

A little while later, their breakfast of cinnamon rolls they ate,
And finally giving a nod, Daddy pushed away his plate;

He sprang to the tree and gathered the family around,
And away they all flew with haste abound,

And I heard them exclaim, midst the click of Mom's camera,
"Happy Christmas to all,
and to all a lame poem and a boatload of pics"

To be continued....
(probably without the rhyming though)

An Ode to a Soggy Day

It's been four whole days of rain, rain,  rain
with nary a glimpse of the sun, warm and bright.
And I long for the day when the sky and my brain
are not the same color, so gray like the night.  

But even in the midst of the heavy barrage
that somehow even seeped into our garage,
we were happy to be safe, warm, and dry
up on our little hill, where our house is perched high. 

Through the soggy days,
normal life has marched on,

despite me searching for ways
to stay in the house and avoid being gone. 

When Cami informed me, her mother,
that her sport would go on in this weather,
I exclaimed in a loud voice, "Oh, brother! "
"I'll have to change out of this leather!"

Then Ellie and me, we jumped in the car,
to go get our Cami, an upcoming cross country star!
We got there with no trouble or strife
But the way home made for one frustrated wife! 

Bumper to bumper the soggy cars did sit
And we barely did move-- bit by tiny bit. 
Ellie watched an entire movie and still,
we'd barely made it over the hill. 

Then she announced in a desperate, loud voice,
that she had to pee in a horribly bad way. 
What do you do, when you're stuck with no choice
but to pee in the car or hold it all day? 

After a little convincing and fair bit of yelling
she finally did allow herself to pee in a bag.
Although the tears in her eyes were welling
I, for one, cheered at not having to scrub and gag.

Nearly three hours had passed,
and we were hungry, wet, and a tad bit weak,
but we finally got to our neighborhood at last!

A mere block-and-a-half from our home,
we passed this swirling, swollen creek,
normally tranquil and shallow as this poem. 

Nearby the creek was this dreaded sign. 
Luckily it was not the way we needed to go
Or I probably would have wielded a pine
and started sailing to and fro. 

Now we're all home safe and sound,

and school for Friday is already called off.

I'm sure hoping the sun will soon be found

and the rain will stop, because enough is enough. 

Hope you all are safe, warm, and dry

and not shedding a tear

for the painful poetry which on this page doth lie

because, my dear friends, never fear....

This is the end of all of this rhythm and rhyming

and horrible timing. 

Good night! 

**********

A Little Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz to Spiff Up Your Day

Once upon a time

there was a man who liked to rhyme. 

He called himself  "Dr. Seuss"

and pretty much he was as silly as a goose.

He wrote books especially for kids

and liked to make up funny words like "zids"

and "zads" and "zizzer zazzer zuzz"

and talk about creatures with a bit of fuzz.

Because of his natural knack

for making kids laugh and cack,

the school likes to celebrate his day of birth

with a whole week of fun and mirth. 

The kids had loads of fun

with extra reading in the sun

and on Friday each and every child,

wild, crazy, meek or mild,

got to be a favorite character

from a book by Seuss or any old merrickter.

Emma wanted to dress as someone smart and fun,
you know kind of like my daughters and son(s),
so she picked Hermione from the book about Harry.
Luckily Hermione is nice and not the least bit scary. 

Now my Adam is a man with a deep seated fear
of standing out in a crowd or causing a leer
I think that is why he chose a more Seussish guy...
the Cat in the Hat, complete with hand drawn bow tie
to be the one he dressed up to be.
Fiddle-dee-dee, Adam is like me.

Ellie is the one who surprised us the most
for we thought she'd dress as Barbie or a princess or even a pretty ghost
But instead she followed Emma's original tram
and declared emphatically  "Hermione-I-am!" 

So Hermione Junior joined in on the fun
although Hermione Senior tried to convince and to cun
that she should be the only Hermione in the house
and that Ellie should be a pioneer, or princess, or mouse. 

Unflappable Ellie couldn't be swayed
so the two Hermiones both stayed. 
In the end the kids in the house were all happy
and went to school looking spiffy and snappy. 

Now although it is a battle well-fought,
now you all know that a poet I am not. 
From there to here, and here to there,
. bad rhymes and poor grammar are everywhere.
And now I will close my silly little epistle
with loads of pictures over which you can whistle.

The End. 

I meant what I said and said what I meant....
that Lara is goofy one hundred percent! 

********

An Ode to Costco

Thank you, Costco, for all the things
That mean so much to me--
For prices low and ginormous sizes;
You sell to me abundantly. Your cheese and milk fill up my cart;
Along with Tide and juice and socks so new;
And I always feel so doggone smart
When my T.P. stash lasts through the next blue moon. It's plain to see that I may be your biggest fan, But I wonder if you could please explain,
With all the money which on you we spend; Why, oh why, Costco, are you still not my friend?
It's true that  you torture me so
With the painful way you make my wallet drain;
And for the crowded aisles and lines so slow!
 But, this dear Costco, is just too much! Strawberries and apples rolling down the street
Along with meat and juice that squashed my feet. My aching back, my tired legs,
All from chasing after errant eggs.
Don't you think it's time to call a truce,
And at least send me to a nice masseuse? 

Sonnet to Springtime

by Lara, age 17
(written on an icy January day in Minnesota)

In honor of the first day of Spring (yesterday) I have decided to share this sonnet I wrote as a senior in high school. It's not that it's that great of a poem, more than it captures the essence of my yearning each winter for the color and warmth of Spring again. Minnesota winters were SO long and hard for me, but even now that we live in a much milder climate, the arrival of the blossoms, gentle showers, and warm sunshine each year is something that fills my heart with hopeful anticipation for the days ahead.

The sky is azure blue, the grass is green.
The hyacinths are peeking through the ground
The hibernating animals are lean.
The sounds of songbirds echo all around.

The golden sunshine bathes and warms the earth;
A gentle shower washes dirt away.
The rain gives nature and the world rebirth,
And a radiant rainbow arcs its way

Over the mountain and into the trees,
Reminding the world of a promise made;
Never again would that gentle spring breeze
Be drowned in a flood, for a price now paid.

Spring will always come in life giving cheer;
Just remember who made all we have here.