Day 244 – Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Day 244

Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time by William Shakespeare

When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o’er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing ‘gainst Time’s scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Is it time management or is it crisis management?  Time seems to slip through my fingers no matter how tightly I lace those fingers and I just can’t seem to stop it FOR EVEN ONE SECOND!  Each morning is filled with grand plans of how each productive moment will be spent.  In my mind, I ration those precious minutes, leaving myself with the luxury of extra minutes to do whatever I want.  Then reality and my true nature take over.  One thing leads to another and pretty soon I am multitasking, I am here, there, and over on the other side, doing this, that and something else too.  Not content to take care of my own list of to do’s, I am helping myself into other people’s to do’s in an effort to help them ration their own precious minutes while my own dwindle to nothing then go speeding into the negatives.
Each night I help myself to some of those non-existent spare minutes to spend a bit of time here in my playground, while the playground monitor yells at me, “You have this, that and something else to do!”  (I really do have to get the kitchen cleaned up, clothes folded and another load started and quite possibly some sleep tonight.)
Before I leave recess:  I was given a lovely award by the Amazing Kiwsparks
In keeping with this award, I am to tell you something about me.  I know that everyone is pretty much aware of my attraction to shiny things so I’m not going there!
This is Something About Cyndi
She counts things obsessively, while driving,  from horses, to accent lighting, to Buicks, to red, white and blue cars (in that order) to driveway reflectors.  It gets tiresome, but someone has to do it.
She has double-jointed elbows that look broken when she ‘straightens’ them out.  In fact, while she was managing a store in Lansing, she frightened one of her staff members so badly with them that he fell down.
Her music tastes run to the not-so-run-of-the-mill.  Her favorite songs are Suantrai by Anuna, Northern Star by Ollabelle, Camel Walk by Southern Culture on the Skids, Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars, Whisper by Morphine, Mambo de la Mort by Los Bombom and Beautiful Things by Gungor.  She has many other favorites, but these ones are her bestest ones.
Cyndi dreams of sea shells all of the time and the seashore.  In her dreams, she is always looking for and picking up seashells of every variety while waves are crashing on the shore and the wind is blowing her hair.
She went to Kendall School of Design and has used her education wisely. She managed retail stores for many years and is now a librarian.
And now I am to pass this award on to some deserving bloggers:
Pablo Buitrago 365 – 365 Days, 365 Photos, 365 Opportunities.
Stacia at Fluffy Bunnies – 1 family, 1 year, 6000 miles away from home.
Tay Learning Photography – World expressed in words, thoughts and pictures
Jennifer Mendez Photography – A Sneak Peak of the World through my Lens
I am keeping it short but sweet as I can see the other children leaving the playground – those of you whom I have re-gifted this fine award:  respond if you would like to, but if not, just bask in the sweetness of well deserved recognition for your hard work!
The bell is ringing and recess is over.  I am off to do my home work…

Day 177 – Time Stands Still in This Place

Time Stands Still in This Place

Day 177

Still Here by Langston Hughes

I been scared and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me,
Sun has baked me,

Looks like between ’em they done
Tried to make me

Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’–
But I don’t care!
I’m still here!

Day 135 – Time Harkens

Time Harkens.

Day 135

Old Times by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times;
Of the long lost golden hours.
When “Winter” meant only Christmas chimes,
And “Summer” wreaths of flowers.
Life has grown old, and cold, my friend,
And the winter now, means death.
And summer blossoms speak all too plain
Of the dear, dead forms beneath.

But let us talk of the past to-night;
And live it over again,
We will put the long years out of sight,
And dream we are young as then.
But you must not look at me, my friend,
And I must not look at you,
Or the furrowed brows, and silvered locks,
Will prove our dream untrue.

Let us sing of the summer, too sweet to last,
And yet too sweet to die.
Let us read tales, from the book of the past,
And talk of the days gone by.
We will turn our backs to the West, my friend,
And forget we are growing old.
The skies of the Present are dull, and gray,
But the Past’s are blue, and gold.

The sun has passed over the noontide line
And is sinking down the West.
And of friends we knew in days Lang Syne,
Full half have gone to rest.
And the few that are left on earth, my friend
Are scattered far, and wide.
But you and I will talk of the days
Ere any roamed, or died.

Auburn ringlets, and hazel eyes
Blue eyes and tresses of gold.
Winds joy laden, and azure skies,
Belong to those days of old.
We will leave the Present’s shores awhile
And float on the Past’s smooth sea.
But I must not look at you, my friend,
And you must not look at me.

Day 19

But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day. ~Benjamin Disraeli

Day 19 found me looking at an angel given to me last September after surgery.  Photo after photo from different angles — I hated all of them.  The clock on the other hand, has been on my mind and calling me to photograph it.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you. ~Carl Sandburg

The clock was a wedding gift and has graced our front rooms for over 13 years.  Right now we are arguing with our son about how many years we have been married and for some reason he is arguing that since he is 13 in June the clock can not possibly have been with us for 13 years.  How do you reason with a pre-teen???

♥ ♥ ♥

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. ~Henry David Thoreau

At times it seems that the clock has been around forever and other times it seems it came into our possession just yesterday.  I wouldn’t trade one of the moments, good or bad, away for anything here on earth.

This clock represents the continuity of my family and marriage.  I adore it.

It's still the same old story A fight for love and glory A case of do or die. The world will always welcome lovers As time goes by.