On Not Flying to Hawaii

I could be the waitress
in the airport restaurant
full of tired cigarette smoke and unseeing tourists.
I could turn into the never-noticed landscape
hanging identically in all the booths
or the customer behind the Chronicle
who has been giving advice
about stock portfolios for forty years. I could be his mortal weariness,
his discarded sports section, his smoldering ashtray.

I could be the 70-year-old woman who has never seen Hawaii,
touching her red lipstick and sprayed hair.
I could enter the linen dress
that poofs around her body like a bridesmaid,
or become her gay son
sitting opposite her, stirring another sugar
into his coffee for lack of something true to say.
I could be the reincarnated soul of the composer
of the Muzak that plays relentlessly overhead,
or the factory worker who wove this fake Oriental carpet,
or the hushed shoes of the busboy.

But I don't want to be the life of anything in this pitstop.
I want to go to Hawaii, the wet, hot
impossible place in my heart that knows just what it desires.
I want money, I want candy.
I want sweet ukelele music and birds who drop from the sky.
I want to be the volcano who lavishes
her boiling rock soup love on everyone,
and I want to be the lover
of volcanos, who loves best what burns her as it flows.

Alison Luterman

19.10.09

Projects




It was only a week ago that I was praying the volleyball would be over. As much as I love my players and enjoying coaching, it takes all the time I have and leaves none for things I need or want to do. Even the menial things like doing laundry, playing with my pups, grocery shopping, or getting my cable fixed were out of the question. There simply was not enough time in the week for me to accomplish anything. Weekends even seemed drab because I was frantically trying to get things ready for the next week. No down time.
Now that volleyball is over, I'm starting to go through an awkward stage of trying to figure out what to do with my time (hence, writing blogs). Last week I went full force into my free time, using up every spare minute. I had my hair highlighted, cut the grass, took the puppy to the vet, had the satellite fixed, and then jumped into my house projects.
We have our annual block party coming up this weekend. This year, the party is in front of my house. This doesn't necessarily mean that people will be in my house, but just in case.....
First on my agenda was to paint the ceiling in my front room. The woman who lived here before me had painted the entire ceiling a hideous forest green. It completely closed off the room and sucked out any light. Suprisingly, painting a ceiling is not as bad as it sounds.
Next was my artsy project (thanks to Jackie for the idea) of painting an old chandelier my mom had given me. I stripped it of all it's wires and painted it a teal green. Now it's hanging on my front porch, looking spectacular I might add.
Then yesterday I tackled all the rest: framed pictures, worked on my picture wall, painted porch chairs, power washed the house, and planted new flowers. DONE! I must admit my hard work has paid off and on the slight chance someone might ask to see my house, I think I'm ready.
But now, today when I come home from work and am faced with four hours of free time (until I head off to the OAR concert!!) I don't know what to do with myself. It sort of scared me a bit to think of all the free time that is looming in the future. What do I do with all this time? My projects are all complete. Cleaning can't be done every day. The gym is always an option. But I feel like I need to do something productive. I need an end to my means, something to be proud of. What's next?

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