I'm Going To Moodle

I know what I’m going to do this August. I’m going to moodle. [Don’t you just love these off-the-wall words!] Fiona and Kaspa from Writing Our Way Home are running a Summer Moodle Course and as my inspiration has been flagging recently I decided that this would be just the thing to give it a boost.

The word moodle comes from a quote by Brenda Ueland;

“...imagination needs moodling – long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering.” ~ Brenda Ueland

An inspiring view of our garden
[tirelessly tended by Mr A]

I love the idea that being inefficient can be productive. It goes against everything we’ve had drummed into us as we grew up. And the same can be said for happy idling, for dawdling and as for puttering... when haven’t you wanted to putter and not feel guilty about it? Oh yes, this is exactly what my over-burdened, befuddled brain needs.

Fiona and Kaspa were the creators of the January Small Stones Project. You can see my small stones here. I did say that I would continue writing small stones even though the project was over but, surprise, surprise, not a single one has hit the computer screen since 31^st January. Now that I’ve enrolled for the Summer Moodle I might write a few small stones before the course begins to get myself thinking in the present. For those who don’t know how to write a small stone, it’s all about noticing a small thing/event/scene and recording it in words as a moment in time. Like I say, it’s all about living in the present.

One of the quotes included in the Summer Moodle Course information is by Natalie Goldberg. I often dip into her book, Writing Down The Bones. It feels like she’s speaking directly to me. The Goldberg quote that Fiona and Kaspa have chosen hits me right in the face;

“Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down.” ~ Natalie Goldberg

Some of the work for the Summer Moodle will be taken from Fiona Robyn's book, A Year of Questions: How to Slow Down and Fall in Love with Life. That sounds suspiciously like yet another book that's talking right at me!


So it’s going to be a summer of living in the present, of de-stressing, of slowing down, of happy idling... in fact I’m just going to moodle. Who’s going to join me?

[I'm adding an addendum: I'm not actually going to be doing nothing in August even though some of you who commented seem to think I am! Fiona and Kaspa are running a therapeutic online writing course that will rejuvenate my creativity. Sorry if you thought I was inviting you to do nothing with me. It's going to be a packed month of writing! Are you still up for joining me? Then visit Writing Our Way Home.]

[My Inspiring Writing Den update: After your kind comments on my previous post we've chosen Liqueur emulsion (a pale pinky-beige) for the walls, I'm planning curtains with an inspiring green splash of colour to them and yes I will post up a picture when it's finished but it may be some time yet. The sun has just come out and Mr A would far rather be in the garden!]

The Final Stone in my River...

…and a bit about the family too

This morning I placed the final small stone into my river. I did it! I completed the River of Stones January 2012 Writing Challenge. Some days I had to root round for an idea for my small stone while other days a small stone appeared on my computer screen without hardly a thought.

My final ten stones are listed out at the bottom of this post and, as with my earlier posts, I’ve selected two that hold a special meaning for me. This time the selection was easy and it’s no surprise that it’s all about family.

Odd to begin with a failed stone but interesting that the more emotionally involved I was to the stone, the harder it was to find the words to express exactly what I felt.

A failed small stone. I can’t find words to describe the aching tiredness in my body after an exhausting weekend with my post-operative daughter.

Just over a week ago my daughter had an op as a day patient at her local hospital. She was still very much under the influence of the anaesthetic for several days afterwards and needed a lot of t.l.c. She was hoping to bounce up and be back at work by now but, as with many things, it’s not been as straight-forward as we expected, although but hopefully she’s now on the mend.

My other special stone is no surprise.

A first. My little grandson said, “Here yar Mamma” and gave his dummy to the phone. He called me Mamma and it melted my heart.

He’s only 22 months old and I thought for a start he was talking about his Mum but he then said, “Mummee car.” So I’m Mamma. That’s so cute except that after I’d been talking to his Dad for a while he shouted “Bye bye Mamma” and waved at the phone.

Diabetes update: I mentioned in an earlier post that my grandson had been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes a few months ago. It was a great shock to all of us, not least because he’s so young, but now things are settling into a routine and, although his levels are still up and down, he’s coping really well with his new regime, including his four injections a day! 

Some of my blogger friends have been asking how Mr A's health is these days. Thank you for asking. He has fully recovered from the stem cell transplant and the levels in his blood are, thankfully, stable right now. We're keeping everything crossed.

My final ten small stones:

22.1.12  A failed small stone. I can’t find words to describe the aching tiredness in my body after an exhausting weekend with my post-operative daughter.

23.1.12  The dunnock knocks leaves from the gutter seeking out insects that had mistakenly preserved their juicy bodies for his breakfast.

24.1.12 Raindrops hit the puddles sending circles ever outwards, moving too fast for me to see, but I can hear them on the conservatory roof.  

25.1.12 T-shirts with bows, sequins, ribbons or stripes.Trousers straight or boot leg, on waist or hips. So many choices and now I’ve spent too much!

26.1.12 The frozen lump of beige soup softens in the pan. I take a taste, still can’t identify quite what I put in it but it’s surprisingly tasty.

27.1.12 Firm, white, shiny eggs in the bowl. I press down with my fork. Yolk appears, mayonnaise spreads. White and yolk mix. Egg sandwiches.

28.1.12 I stand in the dark at the landing window. A familiar silence surrounds me. At a nearby house lights shine, people chat, children play. My silence suffocates.

29.1.12 A first. My little grandson said, “Here yar Mamma” and gave his dummy to the phone. He called me Mamma and it melted my heart.

30.1.12 I run wet hands across cold clay. It softens and shifts beneath my fingers, warming to my touch, gently inviting me to mould it.

31.1.12 I wake to the perfect pitch of a blackbird greeting the morning. I smile even though he’s really issuing a warning, “My territory!”

For those who have missed my earlier small stones, I've poured the whole River onto their own page. Please click on the River of Stones tab on the green band at the top of this post.

Soduko, Bridge and More Small Stones

Collecting small stones is all about looking carefully at one thing each day for the whole of January and writing down what I see. It’s a fascinating activity. I’ve never done it before and I didn’t expect to get this far. I’m well over half way and think that I might just make it to the end of the month.

I’ve chosen two number-related stones to talk about and listed out my others at the bottom of this post. [I posted about my first nine small stones here.]

Wednesday 18th January: 1 to 9, 1 to 9, 1 to 9. Looking for patterns. Always different. My evening Soduko never fails to fascinate.

Thursday 19th January: Shuffle and deal. Sort the cards. *sigh* No bid… again! #Bridge 

Why does Soduko fascinate me so much? In theory it’s completely pointless. It makes no difference if I fill it in correctly or not, but in practise I’m quite passionate about it, almost as passionate as I am about Bridge.

Bridge also relies on working out numbers, counting the high card values in your hand, making a calculated estimate of how many points your partner has according to the bids of your opponent. I’m not sure if I do it to keep my brain active, or to keep me from thinking about life’s worries. Probably both if I’m honest.

Do you have a hobby that you’re passionate about?

My small stones from 10^th to 21^st January: 
10^th  It has a rich red base with black lines forming diamonds, circles, elaborate shapes, each one filled with blue, beige and red. This is the Turkish rug that I never see beneath my feet. 
11^th  A rotund pigeon approaches our tree, thrusts legs forward, leans back on an air current, flaps wings wildly… and he’s landed. 
12^th  I slice the cucumber so thinly the light shines through. My knife slips. I should hide the half slices but where? In my mouth!
13^th  The car wash guys have raw red hands and yet they chat and laugh as they wring out leathers, spray on soap, hose down suds. 
14^th  A thousand tiny fireflies have been skating all night on our frosted car roof to the tune of The Bolero. I know because I can see the lines their skates have left behind. 
15^th  A line of steam escapes from beneath the saucepan lid and gathers like dewdrops on the cold kitchen window. 
16^th  Yellow tulips dip over the rim of my vase like ballerinas bowing for applause. 
17^th  Pasta bows, soft and shiny, covered with sizzling cheese and spinach for Popeye-style strength. Supper for one. My choice.
18^th  1 to 9, 1 to 9, 1 to 9. Looking for patterns. Always different. My evening Soduko never fails to fascinate. 
19^th  Shuffle and deal. Sort the cards. *sigh* No bid… again! #Bridge
20^th  Two spikey-haired cats miaow at me as if I can stop the rain. Sorry girls. 
21^st Chocolate ice cream with real chocolate chunks, smooth and crunchy, cold and creamy. The taste lingers :-)   

Me, David Hockney and Small Stones

I had an amusing realisation last night as I watched Country File on the TV. Me and David Hockney have something in common. Hockney spoke about the way that people don’t really look at things. As an artist he takes in every fine detail of the world around him and transfers it onto canvas. I'm trying to look at the world around me for the January small stones project and I'm transferring it to the computer screen, which brings me to another similarity. Hockney is into modern technology too. He uses an iPad which he says does the job far better than the old fashioned sketch pad and pencil.

But now we come to the differences. Apart from the obvious fact that he's amazingly talented and world famous, he sees colour where I see black. He sees fine blades of grass where I see a patch of green. I’ve a way to go before I’ve grasped this small stones activity but I’ve stuck with it. I’ve been tweeting them out each day this month and one or two have even been retweeted by kind followers J

Thanks to Fiona and Kaspa for running this project at Writing our Way Home. I’ve listed out below my first 9 of 31 stones [it's only for the month of January] and I’ve chosen two of my favourites to talk about.

Waving arms together, clapping hands, hiding under the table and… boo! The joys of skyping with my 21 month old grandson.

I'm not sure if this is, strictly speaking, a small stone but it was such a precious moment that it had to be included. My little grandson has been seriously ill. In December he was rushed into hospital and spent five days in the High Dependency Unit, what we used to call Intensive Care. The doctors diagnosed Type 1 Diabetes. He now has to have four injections a day. For a start it was traumatic for him, and for his Mum, Dad and sister, but the jabs are now called ‘tickles’ and he’s accepting them as part of his life. He’s grinning and playing and running around again and, with much thanks to the Doctors, we have our lively little grandson back... but sometimes life seems so unfair.

A furry grey paw, chenille-soft, stretches across my lap. I stroke it. Mabel purrs and, if I could, I would purr too.

When Mabel arrived from the cat rescue centre last March she was traumatised and spent all her time hiding under the table. Her sister, Charlie, was traumatised too but she's more trusting. She’ll sit on anyone’s lap and insists on being stroked the whole time [like now while I'm trying to type this!] Mabel is more suspicious. She has not yet sat on a lap but she’s gradually moving closer. She now sits either next to me on the settee or on the back of the settee by my head and every now and again a cart-horse sized paw [she’s a big girl!] reaches out and she lets me hold it and stroke it while she purrs contentedly.

My First Nine Small Stones 

1^st Jan Bamboo canes, sturdy and black against delicate lime leaves, move to the rhythm of the wind like arms at a rock concert.

2^nd Jan The smear across the microwave door, a rainbow drained of colour.

3^rd Jan A hazy potato print against a marine blue sky. The moon has insomnia again.

4^th Jan With eyes closed the wind in the trees becomes waves on a shingle beach. 

5^th Jan A sparrow wipes his beak on the branch once, twice, fluffs out his sodden wings, nibbles a feather and he's away 

6^th Jan Metal wings slash white lines across a blue sky, tally marks to record yet more pollution.

7^th Jan A furry grey paw, chenille-soft, stretches across my lap. I stroke it. Mabel purrs and, if I could, I would purr too.

8^th Jan Waving arms together, clapping hands, hiding under the table and… boo! The joys of skyping with my 21 month old grandson.

9^th Jan With Hockney's words in my head I looked at small stones. They are grey, white, yellow, blue, black, orange and green. They are shiny, rough, flat, oval and round and everything in-between.

A small postscript for those who are interested: JOur local newspaper, The Leicester Mercury, rang me up last Friday and interviewed me about my opinion of David Cameron’s statement regarding his intentions to see improvements in hospital care. This is the resulting article here: Plans to improve nursing