On April 11, 2017 the Tuesday Morning Writing Circle began with a 10 minute warm-up on the theme of "Round Things." These pieces were written by the 8 women who were present that day.
Soccer Ball, by Gabrielle Vehar
My niece's soccer ball — which she brings everywhere with her — is a teal blue with yellow and orange highlights. It's a beauty of a round object. My niece is going to be 7 next month, so she's not really 6 years old, she's transitioning. She asked me yesterday if I wanted to play soccer with her. I should mention that I am going to be 53 years old in a few months, but I thought: it's fine, it's fine, how hard can it be to kick a ball for a little while . . . in 80 degree weather? So of course I said "Sure, no problem." She brought out her beauty of a ball and said "I've been on 6 soccer teams." So I countered "Well, I've been on 2." To which she replied "That makes me the better soccer player." Oh boy, I thought, this is going to be fun. So we started with a few warm-up kicks back and forth to each other. Then she said "This yard's too small, let's go over there." Over there was a pasture. "Okay, no problem," I said. Well, I got to running my almost 53-year-old body in 80 degree sunshine, after her kick, and I ended up flat on my back, with mud-stained clothes. Moral of the story: Always listen to your almost 7-year-old niece when she insists that she's going to beat the shit out of your almost 53-year-old self.
Kitty Crunchies, by Kim Falstick
My cats are Curious George (a handsome tiger) and Copper Doodle Dandy Bug (a big orange tiger with a great big purr). In the mornings George takes a drink from the bathroom faucet, then sits silently by his dish waiting for his human to attend to him. Copper, on the other hand, paces, plops down for tummy rubs, and meows ceaselessly until his human opens the pantry door. There are three kinds of kitty crunchies there, and also canned food as a treat. Only one of the kitty crunchies is round, the others are pellet-shaped, but the round ones rule. And the sound of kitties munching down means peace in the kingdom. Tails straight out — ignoring the human. That's how I know I have done my job well.
Tires, by Linda Keeler
We can't sit on our front porch, our favorite place, even though the temperatures are soaring and the blossoms are bursting open on the trees. Spring — no summer! — is here. And we are relegated to the side yard with its bare spots, where we get whiffs of neighbor's cigarette smoke or maybe it's some other weed. And why is the porch off limits, you ask? Sitting there in the center of things are four very round, very black, very new tires. With a very very very potent rubbery smell. Delivered by UPS a week or so ago, they are sitting just where the driver decided they should go. The tires are "wheels in waiting" — waiting for the all clear from above — the assurance that there will be no more snow. Then these porch-sitting inhibitors will be gone; they'll be rolling around the streets of Ithaca. And I'll be sitting on my porch once again. Stop by at 5 o'clock some evening.
Tractor Wheels, by Marty Blue
Giant tractor wheels fascinated me from the first time I met one. We lived in a small town but we also had a farm, and the whole family would travel there frequently to take care of the Black Angus herd, and the wheat and alfalfa fields. Sometimes Daddy would drive his big green John Deere tractor into town and give the neighbor kids a ride around the block. My favorite thing in the world to do was to climb up onto that enormous machine and perch myself on the smooth fender. When we were moving along I could follow the treads on the huge wheel under me. And I hoped I would never have to leave my throne.
Spheres, by Nancy Osborn
I'd like to be nice and make no comparison between my geometry teacher and round things. But I'm not going to be nice. My teacher, who shall remain nameless, was short, almost bald, and round himself — with a sweet little belly that stretched his suit coat. He was Italian, and very good-natured, and skillful at teaching high schoolers. I liked him, despite the fact that I was a terrible student of plane geometry, with its endless proofs to be memorized and reproduced on the blackboard, day after day in class. I was never interested in logic so of course I wasn't interested in these abstract proofs. I barely managed a passing grade for the semester. But solid geometry was another matter. Solid geometry seemed real to me — it dealt with 3-dimensional objects — pyramids, rectangular blocks, and spheres. Things you could actually hold in your hand. For some reason I particularly enjoyed all the equations that involved spheres. Spheres seemed mysterious to me — mysterious in terms of how one could measure them — for how can you measure something that has no edges, no sides, no anything to hold on to? But of course, with the help of solid geometry and its equations you can accomplish such measurements. And thanks to my little round, bald-headed teacher, I managed to pass solid geometry, with a good grade.
My Bottom, by Paula Culver
My bottom is round. Sometimes rounder than others, but always round. Remember that 10 pounds I lost? Guess what? I found it yesterday, right on me bum! There it sat, gleeful in its ability to elude me up until the last minute. The last minute was when I very tentatively ventured into the shed to get a lawn chair. It was suddenly and instantly summer and I couldn't wait to bask in the sun in the backyard, and there I basked with my book and big insulated mug of ice water. Then, I had to pee. I got up and guess what happened? Me bum clung to that chair and brought it right up with me. And there I stood, blinking in the bright light, a lawn chair stuck to my ass. Boy, was my face red! Or, did I already get sunburned? Yup, I guess it's the time of year when my bottom is on the fuller side, the rounder side. And I've always liked round things. Bagels, pizza, Oreo cookies. Hey, I wonder if round things like to stick together? If eating round things inspires my bottom to become round too? All the round things must want company, after all.
Big Orange Ball, by Sara Robbins
The big bright orange ball sits in my house, waiting for Jacob, my almost-two-year-old grandson, to come. He hasn't visited for many months, but I keep it waiting for him. I also have Mega Bloks, many books, a small table and two tiny chairs, large sheets of paper, crayons, some extra clothes he might need if he gets to sleep over again, diapers he's grown out of, wipes, organic baby food, soy milk and rice milk, a high chair he's sat in one time, sippy cups, bubbles, a small red ball, a big red bear, a small brown bear, harmonicas, bongos, and two other drums. I keep broccoli in the fridge because that's his favorite vegetable. His face is round and his big blue eyes are round. He runs around in circles in his house, a large house with many rooms to run through. On my birthday he will come to our house to share my day. His birthday is one day before mine. I will bake a cake that's round and write our names on it. And maybe we will play with the big orange ball.
Watch Faces, by Sue Norvell
We always assume a serene round watch face knows what it's talking about. "Yes, sure, you have time to check the garden, add the missed underwear to the laundry load, change the pillow cases, and clean up the cat's winter bed where she's shed enough fur for at least one more entire cat," my watch says. But sometimes the watch face lies. I am late for writing circle, again.
