It's a lovely day. Straight up - as the kids say, absolutely lovely. It's cool...I got my bike ride in...I just finished hanging the laundry and now I'm engaging in my writing. What I always say I want to be doing. What I do REALLY well in my head but somehow never get to the next step of actually getting the thoughts from my mind to the blank canvas - whether a piece of paper or on the screen. But hey - I'm doing it now so let's just keep going.
Anyway - not only is the weather lovely but so is the place that I'm living at. As I hung the clothes on the line to dry, I got to listen to the little chicks peeping along, following their mom who from all impressions is just the best chicken mom ever. The intermittent squawk of a rooster - one of several who live here - hence the name of the farm, breaks the calm. I can hear the breeze blow through the leaves and although faint, the sound of young children playing in their yard some distance away. All this leads to a lovely time of reverie and reflection and then...."Jo, imma do the dishes later." Umm - sure, later. Ok - where the heck did this imma come from? Who is Imma, I want to ask. And then I move from "oh lord, if my parents were around to hear the complete disintegration of our language", to the inevitable song segue - "Baby, Imma want you, baby Imma need you...you're the only thing I care enough to hurt about....' and so on. Yep "Imma's" been around since the 1970's - the olden days. I've heard that song for the last 40 years and I really like but it still irritates the heck out of me to hear - "imma." Who knew that Bread was so ahead of their time? "Bread." Such an innocuous image...a slice of bread...could be white, could be whole wheat...pumpernickel even. Well, back then that was about the extent of one's choice...oh wait - don't forget rye. The waitress always made sure to ask when you ordered a sandwich, "will that be white, wheat or rye?" And that was about it. Now, asking what kind of bread the eating establishment offers, leads to the spin-off the 31 Baskin-Robbins flavor menu. White, country white, whole grain white, non-bleached white..yes, getting to the wheat, regular wheat, whole grain, 9 grains or maybe 12....artisan, local, and so on. You know, maybe I'm not really hungry but thanks for asking.....
Oh yeah - this was about sounds, language, grammar...no, grammar's been done. To death....not sure there's anything else to add to that discussion. But there's that "imma" thing and the inevitable self-query as to how we got from I AM to IMMA or in a similar vein from "GOING TO," which has somehow become, "GONNA." Or if really trendy - "GUNNA" Ick. Although I do it myself, it's hard to when I'm writing. Even that odd form of writing known as texting - although it could be argued that texting is a cousin to haiku or some other form of short poetry. Well, maybe that's tweeting...more to the point. I mean we get the idea across either which way don't we? Oops - J doesn't like that phrase - either which way. I'm not sure why as it works for me when I'm trying to make a particular point. O.K. - just keep going.
Outdoor sounds, imma, song memory, back to camp in my mind. And for real tomorrow. I'm attending the annual alumni dinner at Camp Matollionequay in Medford, NJ. It's a chance for former campers to come back and hang out, sing camp songs and hopefully touch base w/good friends from the past. Nowadays I have mixed feelings about going. Last year - I took the kids (foster) and it wasn't the best experience. I only knew 1 or 2 people from my time and apparently I've also turned into an old fart. The present day campers, as part of their evening enjoyment sang every song that they ever learned. Now, I love the camp songs...I will sing them any time, any where as we travel around but there is a difference between singing and screaming &/or shouting. Ok - I know, we sang loudly as well. But not from the time we sat down until the time banquet dinner ended. Or did we? Geez...I clearly remember sitting at our tables and singing but also being told not to scream; by at least one or two of my counselors. Don't I? Don't I remember that happening? Well anyway - even my 3 who are not averse to making or listening to their own noise were distinctly uncomfortable. We finished dinner and then walked around then left. So, I missed the banquet night play and green feather ceremony - (description will come another time)...and headed with the kids back to a friend's house were we spent another couple of days. This particular friend is someone I grew up with. So here we go round and round again - back to those lazy, hazy, crazy days of the summers of my youth.
Well, that's enough randomness. I have a few other things to write but they're more for my C2C blog....Jersey shore girl getting ready to leave the farm and head off on another XC trek, following my passion. NO! Not biking...but biking to end the cycle of poverty. It's not camp but it is a really great way to spend a summer....
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