Floor Scrabble

Decided to do a modified version of Scrabble. 

Sometimes, a big challenge to playing normal games w/the elderly is simply that the game pieces are too small and/or the print is too small as well. 

Hence - floor Scrabble: 

Super simple to make. Just print out the letters and laminate. 

I didn't put any point values on the letters. And my staff did more of a crossword puzzle than an actual game. 

But, you know, you could do whatever you wanted. 

Yup. 

There ya go. 

Peace. 

In case you want to go a-Maying

I was going through my photos and came across the pics from last year's Maypole "dance" at work.
A Maypole dance was one of those things that i always thought would be cool to do; then last year finally did, and will probably never do again.

Making the May pole was pretty simple.  There was a piece of some kind of heavy plastic-y piping left from some work that was being done. The magnificent maintenance director cut it down to size that i wanted.

All i did was wrap it with brown duck tape, tape strands of crepe paper to the top of it and stuck some artificial flowers on top. Voila.

Rocks in a beach pail in another pail thing worked to get to stand upright. 

And that was it. 

The whole thing as actually rather successful simple because members of departments were in  good moods (or just curious) that day and helped push people in their wheelchairs around the Maypole. 

We ended up with a rather large number of people who wanted to participate. I ended up adding more strands of paper to the pole. 

So, there ya go. Happy Maying. 

7.27.11(11.18.12)

7/27/11

&

11/18/12

I feel the need to create.

To give purpose to my hands,  head,  heart .. to my soul & the ancestors of my soul whose songs, poems & stories have become drowned out by ticking clocks, car engines,  & bad sitcom banter

Whose inspiration have been buried in deep empty pockets by material expectations

& I ….. I just feel that I am too heavy.

Bonded to the earth. & not  as a  fierce, primal passionate earth mother, soil sister dancing down the bones kind of way.

More like the roly-poly girl of my past (present) trying to be rhythmic & graceful of but unable to find lightness in the sole of her feet.

There is no lightness in the sole of my soul.

I miss giving birth to an idea, story, poetry, even a doodle drawing.

Simply Putting pen to paper

Words, phrases, ideas flowing from somewhere within

Sometimes laboriously & painfully pushing out the perfect word

Or gang of words to express exactly …. Exactly  “IT”

& getting lost – mind, heart & soul completely obsessed,

Dancing cheek to cheek

Heart to heart with my muse.

I miss my muse.

I miss her  murmurs & mutterings that softly tickled my insides then grew into

 playful whispers, sweet promises gentle caresses until there was nothing but my muse to me.

& with pure  abandonment of responsibilities, fear of criticism, I surrendered.

She and I would sit curled together

sometimes on a dirty floor in a corner of the kitchen,

or in a cold break room amid  conversations about the best price for pork loin and canned pears.

Sometimes in a parking lot in my car. The windows fogging up with heat of writing without abashment, without worry of being late for something,  of being something that I’m not for someone. 

Just me & my muse – rocking to the primal drumbeat of creativity – allowing her song to erupt, to spill forth until the paper was filled and was emptied ….  satisfied.

& maybe what we brought into this plane was good – maybe not. Not all children turn out well, no matter how much effort is put into their development.

But, the dance was beautiful.

I miss my muse. 

copyright 2012 

Jennifer Mason