Do men in Australia often love their sisters in law, Mary pondered?

 

Mary was sitting looking at the execution of Mary Queen of Scots on TV while also mending some moth holes in her skirt.The only thread she got into the eye of the easy thread  needle was blue  but nobody was going to examine her with a microscope, she told herself gently
She also was thinking of her winter coat.Was raspberry really a good choice? Would dark grey  not be more useful?After all she often sat down  on garden walls while taking photos or even on old wooden  benches.What she needed was a folding cushion  or a small thick towel.No wonder women have such big  handbags.
Annie  her neighbour  came in the back door with a bag of broken biscuits.
Look at these!We used to get them in the market years ago.So for old times sake I have hit these with a hammer!
What sort of  hammer,Mary asked.
Why, are there different kinds?
Yes,but I expect yours is just the usual medium size.
Actually it was Ben’s.When he ran away he left it behind.
I suppose it was too heavy to fit into his suitcase.Where do he run to?
I don’t know,said Annie but as his sister in law went with him they might have gone to Australia.
Do men in Australia often love their sisters in law? Mary pondered
Who knows? The point is nobody would recognise them.Although if I went on  Saga holiday I might!More people travel now.My friend Jim went to Borneo  last yearm said Annie in a tone of wonder
So if we became lesbian lovers we could not hide in Borneo!Where could one hide now with all this travel?
Disguise might be best,Annie whispered.You could dress as a man!
You must be joking ,at my size.
Well, there are  plenty of fat men!
But would they have a shape like mine?

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So the two friends while away Saturday afternoon, both now darning Mary’s other clothes.
Why don’t you just buy new clothes,Annie  murmured kindly.
I can’t afford this quality.I shall have to keep combing Emile until I get enough fur to make into a thread.Then I can knit a scarf!
How ridiculous,You’d need a herd of cats to get enough,Annie informed  her with pity.
What a lovely idea,Mary cried,But Emile might be jealous.Or he might enjoy meeting a lady cat… or two.
I don’t think you could have more than six cats here and with food and bills it would be cheaper to buy wool
Still,a ball of wool is not so good to sleep by as a cat,Mary pondered slowly.And it has no loving eyes to look at when one comes in from the shops.
I suppose just  holding  wool in the hand might be very soothing,Annie retorted logically.
Otherwise we could join Soulmates she continued fluently.
Would men be attracted to a lady with darned moth holes in her clothing? Mary enquired humorously
Well, it  would show you were economical and thrifty,Annie cried sensitively
Surely that is not the main reason men choose a woman partner, said Mary wonderingly.
I suppose they like a woman with a gentle sensitive  nature.Annie screamed
Well.Denis Thatcher didn’t,Mary informed her delightedly
So true, but was she different once?
No, he wanted to be dominated.Mary decided.
I wonder if  he liked being whipped,Annie thought having read 5o shades of whey
She could have used the Government Whips, Mary chortled.
Both the women burst out laughing so much that  the sofa fell over and flung them onto the thick  red  and purple  striped acrylic carpet
That sofa  us unstable,Annie shouted.We could have died
Perhaps it’s us.Mary shrieked
Emile ran out into the kitchen and bit a piece out of  the Xmas cake.
I can’t help it, he mewed.They are both getting madder by the day
And so say all of us
Emlle’s a jolly good yeller
So pray  for all of us.

To judge or to be judgmental?

https://joshsummers.net/82-the-problem-with-non-judging/

“If I were to try and put the two together, I would suggest that — especially in formal meditation — we want to non-judgmentally allow our experience to be exactly as it is. We don’t want to condemn, deny or avoid any element of it. But once we’ve allowed our minds to gather and receive all the available data, there is a critical transition whereby we act upon that gathered intelligence with judgment – the sort of judgment that is increasingly wise.”

For we have different eyes and different seeings

I have seen so now I cannot doubt
But what I saw, I do not know its name
The laws of  common sense it likely flouts
Yet  it brings   ripe comfort to  the lone

A felt experience without any words
A  brighter, stronger comforter declared
As  swift as sunshine on a  flying bird
There was a living being who their love shared.

Shared is not the best word I might use
For this was someone stronger than a gale
Stronger than the sun, could nothing lose
Would always be surprising, could not fail

How hard  to  here  communicate   my seeing
For we have different eyes and different beings

 

 

A skein, a thread, a rope, a ball of wool

black-and-white-1305967_1920.jpgAn ancient skill, the making of a rope
Twisting threads into a strong,tough form
Used for tying up a fishing boat
Or ancient ships where slaves rowed till deformed

Ropes of pearls would decorate a queen
Yet ropes were used to hang condemned men
Who knows what  this rope above has seen?
Was it used by sailors now and then?

Primeval like  the gift of flame and  fire
Animals  tied  up so they  won’t run
In the form of wool  it has empires
Keeping warm  in  winter ,kingdom come

 

A skein, a rope , a thread, a ball of wool
From this sight, imagination’s full

 

Stan and the green jumper

Dotty cats

Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995
[the wicker basket now somewhat grey in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking,cooking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows
.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.Was he guiltyabout his flings with his alluring next door neighbour Annie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.
How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day.Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved,he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form
.Well,shall we have some tea,she enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.
You look terribly pale,Stan.Where’s your angina spray?
I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.
He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new green acrylicjumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.

As told by Emile to the local paper.
And believed by all of us

When  in  the grief and pain   my  own heart cried

My eyes saw a  dark tunnel drawing me
This might be my path as I felt  dread
Near a slope as grave  as  ends can be

Hesitating. wondering what to do
When with such  grief and pain   my  own heart  cried
My eyes  still saw the  darkness drag at me

Shall I go or stay, what will it be?
Not the  love  entire my heart once craved
Rushing to unravel mystery

Then a fire, a cloud of gold  I  knew
My frantic rush had  kept Love far away
My eyes  desired the  darkness beckoning me

Silent,warm , the  Good  caressed me
I recognised but had  no words to say.
The warmth. the golden  love  from language free

A sheet of tears fell from my open eye
I felt  the Love which saved  me on that day
Rejecting   the  deep  darkness  and its plea

In despair we’re frozen , cannot play
In despair Love comes without our prayer
My eyes saw a  dark tunnel beckon me
Down a slope as  grave as  earth might be.