Week in Seven Words #525

This covers the week of 2/9/20 - 2/15/20.

fever

His face is beaded with sweat. On his nightstand, a thermos is perched on a short stack of books, and beside it a bottle of over-the-counter fever reducer.

frigidly

Our fingers are numb and chilly from handling wet bags of celery in a stiff wind.

gritting

Wounded, she staggers back to her feet, her jaw set.

outlet

Their backyard is a narrow rectangle, just big enough for the kids to take their noise outside for a while.

pausing

Some of my most peaceful moments that day are on an elevated subway platform, waiting for the train. It's a lull in my schedule. The day is cold, but the sun is steady, and I can stamp some warmth into my feet.

retrieved

A bit of biology knowledge – on meiosis – floats up to consciousness at a critical moment. Sometimes you don't know when you'll need to know something.

scavenging

The leftover fruit, soft with rot, is tempting. They shuffle closer to snatch up the firmer specimens, while ignoring every barked order to leave.

Week in Seven Words #483

appreciative
I need to see each day as a jewel that has landed in my palm.

avian
They've hung up bird feeders in one part of the woods. It's a bird plaza now with restaurants and chatter and excited cries. Squirrels try to intrude, while humans mostly keep a respectful distance, observing this avian culture with its own languages and customs.

birthday
A park ranger looks out over the formal garden and breaks into a smile when she spots two young men, her grandsons. "Happy birthday!" they call out, and she laughs as they hug her. Nothing could top a surprise visit from her grandsons on her birthday. They lead her down a path. Behind a mass of shrubs, a dozen other family members are waiting for her with balloons, cake, and gifts.

dress
In one garden, the ranks of daffodils and tulips look like pageant contestants; their gowns are creamy and crisp, pink and white and yellow. In another garden, the tulips are at a party, in disordered swirls of color at sunset.

egret
Close to dusk, an egret with a neck like a question mark poses on a flat rock.

juicy
Savoring a pear on a walk after dark past store windows with lurid sci-fi displays.

magically
When it barks, the dog sounds like a sea gull. A goose stands on a stone fringed with small blue flowers. A child in pink taffeta tears down an avenue of pink blossoming trees. I'm in a fairy tale.

Week in Seven Words #348

drumbeats
Outside the supermarket, they gather at a giant cardboard box filled with watermelons. They tap on each one and explain the connection between the sounds and the quality of the fruit. The lesson soon gives way to the pure enjoyment of listening to what a watermelon sounds like when a small fist is knocking on it.

entreaty
There's no other sound in the room but his beautiful voice expressing contrition.

pugginess
At the veterinary hospital, the animals that are unwell are tucked into back rooms, while in the lobby, a large healthy pug trundles around like a greeter. He belongs to one of the staff, but carries himself with a proprietary air, as if he owns the building.

strategy
How have these two teenaged girls spent their afternoon? The evidence is on the table: homework, novels open facedown, a dog-eared fashion magazine, and a game of Risk Europe in progress.

tempest
The violinist bends like a tree lashed by a storm, the wind singing through her.

tenderly
The second movement of Dvorak's New World Symphony is one of the most beautiful pieces of music. It's a reassurance that, one way or another, all will be well.

tremor
The dog is shaky and crosses the room in tentative steps, her head down as she settles on my lap.

Week in Seven Words #261

backgrounded
On stage, there's a doctor, silent for the most part, who hangs in the background of every scene reminding people of impending death. For the actor who plays him, it must be a fun if not challenging role - he gets to look grave and silent while listening to grand music, night after night.

fibrous
Mango in ropy slices on a blue china plate.

gutless
What he tells her is a cop-out. "Heaven will reward you," he says. It's a consolation that's easy for him to offer, as he gently insists - at no cost to himself - that she give up what's important to her in this life.

inching
They're all careful in the dim, carpeted room. Their shoes are off. They speak quietly, even about things that devastate them. On a table to the side, there's seltzer and cookies.

operatic
She sings her way to an early death.

rejection
When she hugs him, he keeps his arms by his sides and turns his face away.

threadbare
She takes the view that people are motivated either by fear or by love in anything they do. Love and fear are battling all the time in her, and she's exhausted with both.

Week in Seven Words #237

congested
Most of the air in the room has been absorbed into the furniture - chairs stiff with disuse, a piano that would croak at the touch of curious fingers.

essence
"We should all be well," she says, peering at us with eyes that see nothing but cloudy shapes and light.

fried
Old homes by the ocean criss-crossed by power lines, their bricks glowing and their gables peeling away.

prospects
In the fountain - coins, litter, and a water-logged postcard; maybe someone making a wish about the next place they'd like to visit.

smolder
The smell of cigarette smoke off a leather jacket can be attractive in passing.

splotches
A courtyard: sticky fruit on stone hexagons.

unfurled
Ferns in a blue vase on a balcony, with the river below.

Week in Seven Words #200 and #201

#200

counterpoise
The closeness to others is beautiful, as is the possibility of finding space to be on your own when you need it.

fantastic
Their Lego city is imaginative. Castles, modified Hobbit homes, and modern shopping plazas with headless mannequins, all on the same street. City residents get around on zip lines and in horse-drawn carriages. Nothing has developed in exact accordance with the instructions in each Lego box.

keep
A laden table, a lawn in the dark, lights at the window.

plotting
I hope she doesn't lose her desire to fill up notebook pages with characters and ideas.

springy
Tigger, bouncing around the Hundred Acre Wood, entrances him. As we watch, he turns to me with a slow smile, pleased to see that I'm also enjoying his favorite cartoon character.

unwind
When she finds someone who listens, she talks until she's breathless - thoughts, dreams, books read, plans for the coming days and weeks.

unyielding
I'm not surprised that she doesn't try one of the burgers; maybe it would be too much of a concession.

Week in Seven Words #107

passive-aggressive
The clerks at the library have sullenness down to an art. They would rather be anywhere than here, scanning your books and DVDs, and they let you know it with every dead-eyed resentful look.

quiescent
On the train he nods off beside me, clutching his backpack to his stomach. He's quiet, asleep, self-contained - a great neighbor for a train ride.

ricocheting
Playing soccer in the corridor, I feel like I'm in a pinball machine, trying to keep the ball from zig-zagging into doorways and slamming off the walls.

spelunker
She can't yet clear the couch, not consistently, so she settles for crawling under it, flattening out and squirming around in the dust, only her hind feet showing us where she is.

squinch
A steel bowl and in it strawberries, and over those, blackberries - the kind of blackberries that will always bring to mind Galway Kinnell's poem "Blackberry Eating" where the berries are so plump, firm and juicy you don't just eat them, you squinch and splurge well on them.

tackling
He reads four books to me, making his way through them with determination. The most daunting one is Green Eggs and Ham - 60 odd pages - but once you've seen 'could' and 'would' a few dozen times you're less likely to trip up on those silent 'L's.

truce
The city is gentle dark and damp after the rain. I'd like to think that bad things can't happen on an evening like this.

Week in Seven Words #85

confines
Résumés remind me of straitjackets.

fruitage
Apple sauce and apples smeared in almond butter. Autumn foods.

homey
Padding around the apartment, wearing socks to stay warm. Different books wait for me on tables and armrests.

pother
When she's fearful she likes to recruit people to her fears. She gets them excited and ready to act, agitates them, like a girl splashing around on the beach getting water in people's eyes and convincing them a shark's fin is just a dozen feet away.

sparklers
The large padded envelope she brings me is splashed with bright colors and streamers, and it yields cards and smaller envelopes like starbursts.

summertide
One lingering summer night. It's balmy out on the porch, where the trees creep close and leaves rattle on the paved path.

swing
Sing, Sing, Sing played by The Benny Goodman Orchestra beats and blares and explodes out of my laptop. It's the kind of music that can make people feel like born dancers.

Week in Seven Words #82

bustle
Without all the work of writing papers one would think I'd be less busy, but instead the days are cluttered with chores I'd postponed, errands to run, an apartment to neaten and organize in preparation for a new life.

conduit
I walk down a puddly brick corridor lined with trees, white flowers, and benches soaked in rainwater.

drupaceous
Slices of white peach on a damp paper plate.

gratis
Getting a library card is always a happy occasion. On this one the largest word is FREE, written in white letters on a red background. It reminds me of Emily Dickinson: How frugal is the Chariot/That bears a Human soul.

hull
The library's second floor is one long room with a raftered ceiling and some skylights showing sun and tumbling clouds. It's cozier than I expected, tables and shelves packed close together, babies crawling around among heaps of board books in the children's section by the picture window. We're in a boat voyaging across a quiet ocean; the skies are untroubled.

hypnagogic
Ten pm at the supermarket; I'm in a floaty-minded relaxed mood. Fellow shoppers include: an off-duty security guard, her face waxy with exhaustion; a mother herding a pack of squalling overtired children; a middle-aged man in a cut-off tee buying huge bottles of organic fruit juice. It's been a long day. I stop by the snow-white onions and try to figure out where the bananas have been relocated to.

temblor
The ground shakes. Shortly after, we shake hands and part. An unexpected earthquake coincides with a meeting that marks a change in the course of my life.

The life of a bohemian dog redux

Someone very near and dear to me adds his interpretation to this photo.

The life of a bohemian dog

Week in Seven Words #52

ambuscade
I feel a little unwell at the beginning of the week, but it passes, and I let down my guard. As it turns out, the microscopic fiends that made a scouting mission through my innards have retreated only to regroup, bring in reinforcements, and launch a surprise attack.

bracing
The outside world is crunchy. The streets crackle with ice, the snow on the curb crumbles to a fine powder on the sidewalk. The air has a clean healthy bite to it.

moment
When I get to the room, no one is there. I'm glad I decide to stay. Had I chosen to leave right then and there, instead of bobbing around by the door in a state of indetermination, I would have missed out on an interesting hour of learning.

pomaceous
Apple juice, plain and sweet, waiting in a glass bottle at the bottom of the grocery bag.

stilts
I'm running a fever and need to walk across the room. My head is somewhere near the ceiling, and I'm not sure if my feet are touching the ground.

stupor
T.V. is suddenly interesting. My patience for commercials seems limitless. Look at that shiny clean pan, that washer and dryer set, that lovely meteorologist swooping around in front of a map with low frozen numbers on it. As long as I don't have to peel myself off the couch and fall back into bed I'm good. Just let me stay here for a while.

sustaining
I'm so thankful she's here. She makes a weak tea that I can keep down. She goes out into the slippery unplowed world to get some necessities from the convenience store. She tells me I'm certifiably insane for thinking that I can go to class in my condition. She makes excellent plain white rice and chicken broth. When I'm at my lowest point she's there.

Week in Seven Words #31

chalk
It's been a while since I've seen a blackboard in use for an entire lesson or talk. I've gotten used to Powerpoint slides, to projectors and overheads, to occasional equations on whiteboard with marker - but chalk and blackboard, in a funny way I've missed it: the clack of the chalk on the board, dust rising from the erasers, all kinds of hand-writing from large and legible to white loopy scrawls that make you squint and tilt your head to the side.

clamant
The week is full of relatively major obligations, and pushing up among them are minor ones as well, like weeds thrusting up between paving stones.

din
The children enjoy the plastic and metal instruments. The parents, not so much.

dissatisfied
A pink cupcake is an occasion for tears.

frothing
Weather reporters post themselves along the coast, against backdrops of agitated surf and twisting branches.

succulent
Mineola is tangy and bursts in the mouth. Sabra fruit has a sweet flesh and tiny hard seeds that try to burrow between the teeth.

timely
An item arrives in the mail earlier than expected. With some last-minute assistance, a project prints on schedule. I catch someone I need to speak to in a two-minute window after a meeting. Small slices of time fit neatly into the week, making the week's work more manageable.

Week in Seven Words #9

anagrams
One game after another, on tables pushed close to sunny windows. The afternoon drifts by to the sharp click of letter tiles, laughter and friendly teasing, and the magic of the mental lexicon.

charoset (חרוסת)
Apples, bananas, walnuts, and wine; dashes of cinnamon. A recipe from home, lovingly made and spread thickly on matzah.

chelonian
A dozen or so turtles, sunning on rocks and logs. For several minutes they don't move; they could very well be fixtures in this man-made pond, statues carved of pale stone. But then one begins to inch up a log, its legs delicately testing out the wood. Another, who seemed as content as any of the others, suddenly lets itself drop. With a quiet splash it hits the water, where it bobs for a while in one place - as if it's stunned, and needs to get used to the stark difference between rock and water.

earnestness
Wisecracks are acceptable, so are sarcasm, irony, and flippancy. Let's not talk about important things as if they're important; let's express our passions and opinions with a smirk, a wink, a shrug as if to say these things don't matter much. It's startling when someone speaks or writes with directness and feeling. It shakes us up to hear or read something passionately worded, carefully thought out, with no sly and apologetic half-smile afterwards ("Whatever, I was just kidding...") I treasure an hour spent in that armchair taking in words that are unabashedly full of purpose and poetry, words of praise, words grappling with some of life's most important matters.

fret
In the midst of foolish worries I get distracted. Because of my distraction, I'm careless. Because of my carelessness I commit significant blunders that I did not at all anticipate; they weren't a part of my original worries. I think about these blunders and their consequences; fresh worries gnaw at me. Again, I'm distracted. Again, I slip towards carelessness. Somehow I catch myself this time, give myself a pat on the figurative shoulder ("Settle down, you've learned something, and it's not the end of the world so do please focus...") and with that the evening continues.

halcyon
A couple of quiet days with only the occasional squabble. There's rain at the windows, and we're gathered in one room, which feels warmer and more homey than usual. A game of Scrabble, paging through books in the yellow light, napping on the daybed, lunching on salads and cold meats. It's a good visit all around, ending with warm words and kisses to the cheeks and forehead. For a short while I feel like I'm lifted up above the many tasks I need to complete in a month's time. These are days that restore and renew; I wish for their peace to spill over into other days.

Seder
What do I love about each Seder? There's the singing, so many beautiful songs, somehow even more beautiful because we don't all match in key, tempo, or even melody; there are some songs that also speed up towards the end, and after a few cups of wine part of the fun is feeling your tongue flail around as you try to get the words out at an acceptable pace. Then there are the stories - the main one in the Haggadah, but also others told around the table along with questions that we don't usually stop to ask on other days and jokes that are more than a few lines long and are themselves beautifully crafted tales with clever conclusions. There's also the mix of people; individuals who normally wouldn't plan to eat together are all at the same table now and discovering interesting things about each other.

Week in Seven Words #7

buttery
A low-slung yellow moon. Daffodils in early evening light. The scent of hot buttered pretzels from the shop I walk past nearly every day.

haphazard
I had some sort of plan for the afternoon, but it gently derailed - I forget an address that I'm supposed to remember, confuse one building with another, sit in the cool shade beside two old men eating ice cream, spot a friend playing frisbee, listen to him then argue with another friend about love and sex and the meaning of it all (while the ice-cream eating men look on in amusement), hear an interesting talk signed by a deaf man (and spoken by an interpreter), and watch the sunset while sampling two flavors of lollipops.

impromptu
A last minute suggestion leads to a one-day trip. It's full of work, study, and difficult concepts to follow and grasp, but there's also that hour in the early afternoon spent taking a walk with someone I barely know (but get to know better), out in the sunny streets with the unpredictable architecture, and a small square (not green yet, but starting to show signs of green) where an outdoor band plays brassy music for an appreciative audience of passers-by.

nourishment
She goes out of her way to meet up with me; she brings me a homemade chicken sandwich and slices of orange. It's the first real meal I've had that day, and my headache starts to recede.

parallel
When he asks me if I'm paying attention to the conversation or just watching the birds battle it out over a scrap of food in the shrubs, I can honestly tell him that I'm doing both.

raisins
I find myself in possession of several boxes of raisins. And I do like raisins. They go on my oatmeal, in my yogurt, among chopped up fruits or salad greens, and embedded in my rice pudding.

unknot
On the other end of the phone he's scratching his head just like I'm scratching mine. And just by sitting and talking out the problem slowly and being befuddled together, we start to untangle some of it; we begin to pull apart the strands of this quandary.

Week in Seven Words #4

brontosaurus
He's a scientist and scholar, well-known in certain circles. One of the moments that stands out most in his lecture is when he displays his dinosaur tie. It's a necktie with a brontosaurus on it; he fondly refers to it as a "hideous gift" from his wife and adds that the only reason he takes it along with him on trips is to preserve marital harmony.

jewels
I like making fruit platters, not only because they're tasty, but because I like to lay the fruits out as if they're jewels on display - deep green and lush red, sparkling purple and plump orange.

raconteurs
I spend time in the company of two story-tellers. One talks about things that he actually did and experienced - an exquisite multi-course dinner in Spain, an encounter with brazen pickpockets in eastern Europe. The other makes stories up and relates them with an expression that never succeeds at being 100% serious (it's his eyes, they twinkle too much); with this second story-teller I have fun guessing how much is fiction and how much fact, and at the end it hardly seems to matter anyway, because I'm laughing too hard.

ramble
Great conversation full of both depth and digression, in a warm, crowded, noisy room. It spills out of doors afterwards, in a walk through slushy streets, where everything is mostly cold and still except for our voices and laughter.

refresh
Being able to rest my head on her shoulder, even for several seconds only, makes all the difference in an evening marked with weariness and aches.

saturation
Rain doesn't just saturate earth and sky with water but with sound as well. The sounds - of rain against roof, puddle, window, coat, and concrete - accompany me everywhere.

sketch
I don't know yet if anything will come of these tentative considerations, which center on a quiet town, a rocky coast, lighthouses, boats, shops selling fudge and ice cream, hiking trails, leafy parks and old houses, an inn with a large downy bed.

Tu B'Shevat is here

The Jewish "New Year for Trees".

The climate's not conducive to tree-planting where I live, but planting trees is very much a part of this holiday (though as it falls on the Sabbath this year, Jews who keep the Sabbath will plant the trees another time).

Soon I'll light the Sabbath candles, then go to synagogue, and then to the first Tu B'Shevat Seder I've ever attended (hosted at a local Chabad). In some respects it will resemble a Passover Seder - with people gathered at the table eating special foods and discussing the meaning (or rather meanings) of the day, and telling stories from Jewish texts and from their personal lives. There will be an array of wines, a large sampling of fruits, including the Seven Species - figs, dates, pomegranates, olives, grapes, wheat and barley (the last two as bread and cake).

Tu B'Shevat marks the day according to which the ages of different trees are determined (this is for purposes of tithing, and because a part of each tithe is donated to the poor, charity is also an important part of the day).



After a hectic week I'm looking forward to a day of contemplation, savoring, appreciation, and warmth. There's Tu B'Shevat, and also that wonderful constant in my life - the Sabbath.