SoCS: Pins, Buttons, and What NOT to Drink

 Here’s today’s prompt: “pin.” Use it as a noun, use it as a verb, use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

Remember bobby pins? My mom had a lot. There might even be one around here. They were for your hair, like mini barrets. She would put her hair up in little pincurls and sleep in them overnight with an x of double bobby pins in each curl. Better than those big plastic curlers in the days before curling irons or whatever people are using these days.

Straight pins could be (and still are) useful for sewing a hem or keeping two pieces of fabric lined up while you sew them together with a needle.

Pintrest is so full of everything. I don’t keep up with my account. There are only so many hours in a day and so many other things to do.

I don’t wear many pins. My mom had a lot. I pinned her angel pin to the lapel of my black blazer which I used to wear a lot but have not worn in a long time. Maybe I’ll wear it this Christmas.

How many angels can dance on the head of a pin? I guess it depends on the size of the angels, and several other factors that have something to do with divine magic.

There are also pins that I have called buttons – campaign buttons, cause buttons, save the whales buttons – but they are really pins, because they have pins and you can wear them on your shirt or purse, or whatever. I had a big collection once. Now it’s smaller and kept in a glass container in the kitchen. Why in the kitchen? I have no idea. One button/pin says, “Get stoned. Drink wet cement.” When I was a substance abuse counselor, one of my clients gave that to me. It was funny. And weird. (Do NOT drink wet cement!)

Now I’m going to my pictures and type in “pin” and see where that leads.

• 

  My mom’s angel pin

• 

  The “get stoned” pin is bottom left

• 

  dragonfly on closthes pin

• 

  This one is still on the mantle.

• 

  I don’t know where this pic came from.

• 

  My dad’s MASH hat has pins.

…

For more streams of consciousness, rules and stuff, visit our host, Linda Hill at her blog here.

Burial Mounds on the Natchez Trace

 

A song unheard by my ears

Called to my being

and invited me closer.

My friends would wait

As I walked toward the mounds

through itchy grass

wondering what bugs I might disturb

To nibble my ankles

And thinking sneakers

would have been better than sandals.

But I had not known the song would call me.

 

They told me it was okay

not to come all the way

Because I was close enough

To feel the song.

They met me halfway

And I felt the energy of their spirits

 like a soft breeze

that raised the hair on my arms

yet the air was still.

 I danced to the spirit song

unheard by my ears

And for a moment,

I was free of the world.

∞ ∞ ∞

 

As I was about to leave the site of the Pharr Mounds, I spied a dragon fly:

It did not fly away as we got close, and I wondered if it was injured

or just reminding me to be still.

Then, as we headed to the car, I found a single butterfly wing in the parking lot.

A gift to help me remember my freedom.

 

My visit to the Pharr Mounds showed me that I do not have to work so hard to receive gifts. As our bodies slow, our awareness grows, and our spirits are more easily lifted.

I only saw a small portion of the Natchez Trace.  Just enough to wet my appetite. Next time, I’ll bring sneakers.