Missing Bumble

Here is a picture of my Christmas cookies. I see pictures everyday in the checkout lane at Safeway of beautiful, decorated Christmas cookies. The red of Santa's suit is a perfect fire engine red, and you can make out a perfect Cupid's bow mouth and sparkling black frosting eyes. Well, I will have none of that! I will decorate my Christmas cookies with a strange chartreuse frosting and even though they were cut out with cookie cutters, I dare you to guess what shape they're supposed to be. The single cookie here is, in fact, Santa. There is no mouth or sparkling eyes. There is no discernible suit or smart black boots. My Santa cookie is a big blob of off purple. Is this appetizing? Hell, no. Is it yummy. Yes, quite. Who makes those perfect cookies? Is it that same woman who haunts me? The one with time on her hands and a dust free house? It would take me half an hour to decorate one flipping cookie that precisely. Who HAS that much time? Not me. I could use the excuse that my cookies look this way because I'm so busy this year but honestly, my cookies always look like this.

Bumble. I have to say I've been a bit down from my non-decorating Christmas. Here's the deal....my house is scattered. There is no floor in the living room. The furniture is in a big fat pile in the center of the room. I have 27 piles of paperwork and it's all covered by an inch and a half of dry wall dust. My Christmas boxes are packed in the attic. I have no tree, no ornaments, and no Bumble. Bumble is the abdominal snowman in Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer. The Christmas cartoon with Burl Ives voice and the elf who really wants to be a dentist. The misfit toys for cripes sake!! So, I always have a little Bumble scene out, along with a Fimo clay Nativity I made two decades ago and some Styrofoam ornaments my mom made. This year - nada. Here is a Bumble shot from a few years ago. How can you not be filled with Christmas joy just gazing at Bumble's foolish crazy grin?!


Oh. and I've got a cold. I have drainage and sinus pain and I make gross noises and I cough. Yuckkkk! And, I haven't even written my Christmas letter yet. For five years I have written a superb Christmas letter. I may have given up Bumble this year but the letter gets written and mailed this weekend. What happened to November?!?!

Okay, I think I've complained enough for one blog. Now I'll tell you some of the things I love. I love breathing. I love roly polies. I love my man and I love my son. I love morning coffee with cream, and reading the paper. I love that I have a bed. I love prime rib and Yorkshire pudding. I love this temporary wreck of a house. I love my town. I love the pumpkin loaf at Starbucks. I love my family. I love Christmas even though the Grinch of circumstance took away everything, even the roast beast. I love Trader Joe's chocolate almond bar. I love clean bathrooms. I love having a day off. I love getting on a train. I love the necklace my dad made me years ago out of weird dried oranges that he drilled holes through and strung on fishing line. I love to get in the car on a cold day and turn the heater up real high. I love my friends. I love Bumble and I will just have to see him next Christmas.

Moving into winter

My house is a mess. I don't mean that it's a little dusty (which would be normal) or that the furniture doesn't match (normal too). No, I mean that the interior doors are mostly all off, sheet rock is visible and very few electrical outlets have covers. We've been having a remodel done, pushing out the back of the house 10 feet, and it's been two months and I wannnnt mmyyyy hooussee bbbaack (simulated whine). It's going to be very cool when it's finished....it just seem like it's never going to be finished.

Starbucks is the same. You know those sleeves? The cardboard holders that go around the cup? We have to put them on the large (venti) drinks but often folks ask for them with the smaller sizes. I call those people "sleeve wienies" because, come ON, those drinks are not that hot. And it wastes paper. Damn tree killers. So, the other day I went in and got a small (tall) drink and walked out and MAN, that thing was hot. I refuse however, to admit that I needed a sleeve. I did not (plus, some people get them for cold drinks and THAT really pisses me off).

Miscellaneous checklist of my life.....Check out my last post if you live in my town - the Coconino Center for the Arts is having it's holiday sale this weekend and Barry's teapot is on the flyer. I give my final in my community college classes on Monday and then I'm done teaching for a month. I just received six bottles of wine in the mail (winewoot.com)! The chickens are NOT laying much as it's cold and dark here. I have a car (Honda Pilot) that seats 8 but there is only room for the driver right now because my car is FILLED with junk (chairs, Christmas gifts, books, etc) that don't fit in the house right now. Thanksgiving was nice.

Actually, I'm feeling a bit flat. You know that feeling? When you don't feel ungrateful but you're not really feeling grateful either? When you aren't being active or dynamic? When there's no great book on your nightstand, and your kitchen is too cluttered to cook a fun dinner? When your creativity bone seems to be broken, or at least sprained? Yeah, that's me right now. Ebb and flow. Ebb. And. Flow.

Yesterdays news

The reason I had no picture of the beautiful vase (see yesterdays post) is that it was NOT a vase but a teapot. My bad. And I do have a picture and it is on the flyer. And a big thank you to the Coconino Center for the Arts for putting it on the flyer. And just to clear up matters in my own household....I LOVE having three kilns in the backyard. Really. Heck no, it doesn't bother or upset me in the least. No, really. I absolutely was NOT complaining. Hahahaha.

Quick and Easy

This is a funny site. Some guy just writes down a sentence or two from his 73 year old dad. It's simple and will make you laugh...

http://twitter.com/Shitmydadsays


Here's Jay on Halloween. I am so wearing this mask next year.

Speaking of my son, he was voted onto the Allstars team for basketball. When he got the phone call, he just grinned for hours. It's been his dream for YEARS and he would always ask me, mom, do you think I'll ever be on the Allstars team? and I would always say, No, you're just not agressive enough on the court, and then this year he starts going for rebounds and BAM he's on the team. We go to Anaheim in April for the big game. Cool.

Barry's wonderful pottery got into a show here called It's Elemental. He entered this very beautiful vase that I do not have a picture of. Check out the Barry ware (He's going to HATE that I wrote that) at kindkilnpottery.etsy.com. We have three, yes, three, kilns in the backyard.

I have all my Christmas shopping done. Sweet.

How To Like It

So, here's the big damn deal (Maggie says that phrase sometimes and I think it sounds like poetry). My blog has gotten boring (to me). b.o.r.i.n.g. Boring. Fucking boring. Hahahaha. I forgot how much I like to swear. I'm a happy swearer. I only really cuss when I'm feeling good. Or silly. Or for wild emphasis. And to give myself credit, and to let y'all know how responsible I am, I do not swear in front of children or nuns.

I've read over the first year of this blog and it was MUCH more busy and interesting. Oh, and guess what, I wasn't working. La-de-da, I was being creative every day. Or, taking care of my beautiful mom. Or, in a crummy relationship with a scary man. So, in a nutshell, I was motivated a lot to live, to create, and to go do things to get out of the house. My life has actually improved a LOT since then. There was quite a bit of upheaval and grief. But I also had bunches of time to paint furniture and write. Maybe someday I'll have more free time, but maybe I won't, so I guess I better start being fun and interesting again in a hectic world so I can write better blogs. Maybe I should just start being fun and interesting again whether I write a blog or not. I always said I WAS NOT going to be the blogger that writes about when I'm having breakfast (THAT'S for Facebook. Hahaha) so I need to get to work.

(Boring. Really? Am I overthinking? Is it boring to me because it's MY stuff and so retelling it seems redundant? Is it my own self-doubt that barges in? Is it that no one ever comments so I don't even know if anyone is READING my boring content? Is it from being told as a child donotbragorinflateyourself so as a result I cannot find my own life worthy enough to be written down? Do most people think too much?)

I love when someone has their ipod on with headphones in their ears and they sing out loud by accident. Actually, I like to do that myself too. I have the worst voice EVER and it's fun to sing when I have earphones in because then I CAN"T HEAR MYSELF. Other people around me look panicked and embarrassed, thinking, omg, she doesn't realize she's singing and it sounds so HORRIBLE but folks, I know. Believe me, I know.

i LOVE teaching poetry. I think that could be my calling. I just don't get to do it much. Budget cuts at the community college leave me with one class a year, whereas it used to be one class every semester. And I'm pretty ensconced in Flagstaff (happily) and even if I could get a swell job teaching somewhere else, I don't want to move anywhere right now. So, I teach it when I can. I think I'm pretty okay at it. Here are a few real comments from anonymous students that showed up in my evaluations....Divine makes me smile at the clouds and Jill is an amazing teacher and really great course and I'm going to take this beautiful class again because Jill has great in-class exercises and assignments and I feel like a poet and my very favorite, Jill is nice and pretty and fun and I like her.

I did not have to pay those students very much at all to say those things.

But I don't think it's my calling because of those comments. I just LOVE it. I feel like it's a mix of making people feel safe and letting them express themselves and being creative all at once. When I'm teaching poetry I feel exactly right. Slightly giddy. In control of lightness. Able to guide with intuition. It's very cool. AND I get to introduce people to good poems......

How to Like It

These are the first days of fall. The wind
at evening smells of roads still to be traveled,
while the sound of leaves blowing across the lawns
is like an unsettled feeling in the blood,
the desire to get in a car and just keep driving.
A man and a dog descend their front steps.
The dog says, Let's go downtown and get crazy drunk.
Let's tip over all the trash cans we can find.
This is how dogs deal with the prospect of change.
But in his sense of the season, the man is struck
by the oppressiveness of his past, how his memories
which were shifting and fluid have grown more solid
until it seems he can see remembered faces
caught up among the dark places in the trees.
The dog says, Let's pick up some girls and just
rip off their clothes. Let's dig holes everywhere.
Above his house, the man notices wisps of cloud
crossing the face of the moon. Like in a movie,
he says to himself, a movie about a person
leaving on a journey. He looks down the street
to the hills outside of town and finds the cut
where the road heads north. He thinks of driving
on that road and the dusty smell of the car
heater, which hasn't been used since last winter.
The dog says, Let's go down to the diner and sniff
people's legs. Let's stuff ourselves on burgers.
In the man's mind, the road is empty and dark.
Pine trees press down to the edge of the shoulder,
where the eyes of animals, fixed in his headlights,
shine like small cautions against the night.
Sometimes a passing truck makes his whole car shake.
The dog says, Let's go to sleep. Let's lie down
by the fire and put our tails over our noses.
But the man wants to drive all night, crossing
one state line after another, and never stop
until the sun creeps into his rearview mirror.
Then he'll pull over and rest awhile before
starting again, and at dusk he'll crest a hill
and there, filling a valley, will be the lights
of a city entirely new to him.
But the dog says, Let's just go back inside.
Let's not do anything tonight. So they
walk back up the sidewalk to the front steps.
How is it possible to want so many things
and still want nothing? The man wants to sleep
and wants to hit his head again and again
against a wall. Why is it all so difficult?
But the dog says, Let's go make a sandwich.
Let's make the tallest sandwich anyone's ever seen.
And that's what they do and that's where the man's
wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator
as if into the place where the answers are kept—
the ones telling why you get up in the morning
and how it is possible to sleep at night,
answers to what comes next and how to like it.

This poem is by Stephen Dobyns and although it is set in the fall (and it's close to winter now), I find it so beautiful and honest. In class we can spend a bit of time of this poem, figuring who/what the dog is, why the line breaks are where they are, and what other things the poem is saying to us. Where the poetic language lies. And simply, what we like and don't like. Don't you just love shine like small cautions against the night? Wow.

Yes, I Mention Rainbows

It's been a pretty mild week or two at Starbucks. Occasional bees, people talking incessantly on their cell phones, just the usual. Although I did have a couple come through yesterday that made me laugh. First, they blew right by the ordering box, while coming through the drive-thru. When they got to the window I said to them, Hey, you forgot to order, and the woman driving looked at me and said. Well, it was so confusing. There was no sign saying "order here." Hello!? Have you never been through a drive-thru? There's a big ole menu board, and then there's a dark box with a microphone under a big piece of screen? Yeah, you can order there! Of course I didn't say that. Hahahaha. So I inquire about where they're from and they tell me they're from Oregon and that they're heading to Sedona to see the Red Rocks Amphitheater. You know the big amphitheater that's built into the side of a mountain where all the really big bands play. Oh yeah, that's in Colorado. (I wanted to write hahahaha here but it sounds so mean....but hahahaha). I had to tell them. But I did feel kind of bad about the mix-up and ended up giving them a ton of information about the RED ROCKS of Sedona and where to go and some things to see, like the drive down Schnebley Hill Road. I hope they had a great day and didn't end up in Albuquerque.

I harvested and blanched all my root vegetables this week. I had turnips and beets and carrots and onions. I wouldn't have picked the onions yet except we had to move the garden boxes for the remodel. I'm kicking out the back of the house ten feet and it's exciting! B and I spent the weekend tearing up the back patio ourselves to save some money on it and the garden boxes have to go. My house is tiny so this will make it average.
There's just one thing I'm going to miss about the house as it is now. At certain times of day, the sun comes in through a skylight and makes these great rainbows in the bedroom. Well, the door to the bedroom is going to be sealed up in its current location and moved farther down the wall of the living room and the sun won't come in that way anymore. Damn. Now they'll be on the wall of the dining room so I guess they won't be gone FOREVER. Would it be worth the remodel to lose the rainbows? I don't think so.

During the remodel it is my mission, my goal, to SIMPLIFY. I want to clean out stuff! So my quote at the bottom of the page is going to be my motto. However, I am not making any promises.

Jay was sick with the flu for four days. I'm sure it was the Swine flu. That's what everyone says (would another hahaha be too much here?) I told y'all it was pandemic. I love my son. You know I do. We all LOVE our children. But four days of a "I'm too sick to go to school but not too sick to watch Sponge Bob" child will drive anyone crazy. Especially me.

Have I mentioned that I miss my parents? There was this unbelievable amount of unconditional love there. Not that I was a hard kid, or even a difficult adult (no, I wasn't, so stop saying that). But there was always a great love there. Today a girl at work looked at my ring and asked about it. It says "So, when do we dance?" on it. That was the last thing my dad said to me and I had the ring made to have still another thing to keep me aware of LIVING. I started to tell her about it and at the very last word, got a little catch in my throat. It surprised me a little. Suddenly I just saw him again, so clear and real, and man, I missed him. Now, we dance now.

If you want a golden rule that will fit everybody, this is it. Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. - William Norris,1834-1896

BTW

I'm still here!!!!!! But I have some quandaries to ask myself. How can I like my job and yet hate to work? How can I be a writer and yet not write for days at a time? Weeks at a time?!?! How can I love to cook and yet end up throwing a frozen pizza in the oven too many nights a week? Where does the time go, people?! What I would give to have my One Year of Opus back (See July '07 post). Oh well. Damn. I'll figure out these questions (and many more, such as, why would anyone carve a statue out of butter for the Kansas State Fair?) by next week. (Click on the above picture to see the Kansas State Fair Butter Sculpture 2009)

It's fall. My favorite time of year. I took this tree picture a week ago, when I noticed the first turned leaf on the tree. And now it's getting in the low thirties at night. Now all the leaves are red.


My garden is done for the year. Beautiful tomatoes, peppers, squash and zucchini. Corn was buggy, but my dad used to tell me to put mineral oil on the silk just as it was appearing and I didn't do it. My bad. Beets, turnips and carrots still in the ground and I'm going to blanch them this weekend for use in soup this winter. I did have a cool garden anomaly this year...it was this three bulb tomato. Yes, one tomato with three separate fruits. That's what makes having a garden worth it to me.


Now, I'm going to bed. I've had a very long work day, that included a frozen pizza and no writing. It also included my son coming home sick from school and college students who could not differentiate between there, their and they're. I have a long work day tomorrow too, which most likely will not include a frozen pizza but will most likely also not include any writing. I'm going to finish with this cool picture, taken on the front porch of my little house in Newton, Kansas. It's a praying mantis and they're supposed to be good luck. So, I'm sending you all good luck. Actually, I have to confess, I don't know if I can actually send good luck through a blog (although I'm always getting e-mails that claim to be able to do that, if I would only forward them on to 12 people and DO NOT BREAK THIS CHAIN) but if I can, then I'm saying you're going to have am amazing Thursday with wild luck coming out your ears (I think at least one of you WILL buy a lottery ticket and WIN).

By the way, the frozen pizza was just a symbol/metaphor. Barry made vegetarian Hamburger Helper. I guess the gist is simply that I love to cook but can't even find the time to decide on a flipping recipe, since I was at work at 4:30 this morning and didn't get home until 6:00 pm. Holy cow.

Bee good

So, at Starbucks we have bees. Only at the drive thru window. They swarm around the trash that is about 20 feet past the window (where folks dump ALL THE TRASH THEY'VE ACCUMULATED IN THEIR CAR OVER THE PAST SIX MONTHS) and they often get confused and end up inside the drive thru. The area we're in is a little box. It holds two or three people, an espresso machine, cups, lids, flavorings, etc..... so when there are bees in there too, it's pretty crowded. Today I was enjoying the bees. As I would talk to people in their cars, I would watch the bees hang out by the straws and I'd look at their intensely furry yellow and black bodies. They're so cool. Their tiny brown legs are so busy and purposeful. They just want to slurp up a little vanilla flavoring and go put it in their honey (that sounded fun, yet slightly risque).

Well, I have no problem with bees. Bees never sting me. I'm not afraid of bees. There. I'm not afraid of bees. I like them, and apparently, they like me. I herd them out of the window with my hand, gently guiding them on their way back to the exquisite trash can filled with sugar products. So, later I volunteered to empty the outside trash. That can was overflowing with MacDonald wrappers and Burger King cups and BEES. There were at least three dozen little buzzers inside the bag. I tied the top in a loose knot, pulled it out of the metal can and carried it outside the store and around to the dumpster (glamor, my job, hell yes) and just as I about got there I noticed a bee crawling through the knot and WHAM, I got stung. I have to say, it hurt for a second. No welt or swelling. And it wasn't the bee's fault - it just wanted out of that bag. I pulled the stinger out and went back inside for another four hours of coffee immersion. And bee watching. But most everyone else, especially customers, were terrified of these bees. The involuntary movements that come from a fear of flying insects is truly hysterical to watch. Hands flapping randomly in the air, coffee flying into the back seat, Hahahaha. I kept thinking, everyone (who is not allergic and will DIE from bee stings) should just get stung. Once. It's nothing. Just get stung and get over it.

It made me think of when I was in my twenties and, for some odd reason, was deathly afraid of getting beaned in the head with a Frisbee while at a concert. A very specific fear, but a fear nonetheless. I almost never went down on the floor. I saw Foreigner, Berlin, Fleetwood Mac, and Tom Petty all from the safety of the seats. I danced in my chair to Golden Earring, The Rolling Stones and Bob Seger because I was worried about some lone Frisbee arcing through the air and meeting up with my skull. My fear eventually caught up with me. I was in California at Venice Beach and there, while walking on the sand, a Frisbee did indeed come out of nowhere and hit me right square in the back of the head. Yes, it hurt. I was momentarily disorientated and may have fallen to my knees. But I didn't bleed or die. And I was never afraid of it again. I saw The Scorpions and The Cars and several 80's hair bands that I'm too embarrassed to admit to from the floor after that, pushed and crowded and Frisbee fear free.

Mom

I never wrote my mom a note on her birthday. It was August 24th. It's not a required thing but since I wrote a letter to my dad, it would have been nice (and fair) to write one to my mom too. So, since I don't really know if time even matters in the after/life, I'll write one today.

Dear mom,
I forgot to write you on your birthday. I did think about you. I think about you often, but on your birthday I thought about how it would have been to have you around without the Alzheimer's. Right now I'm in Newton, Kansas. Yesterday, Jay and I went to the Historical Society. We talked with some folks who were so kind and friendly. It's one of the things we love about Newton. The Historical Society is in a three story building (plus basement) that was built in 1906. The stairs are old dark burnished wood. The windows are etched in places and have peculiar latches that I can't always figure out. I told the woman upstairs (the one in charge of archives) about the bible I found after you died. The one that was given to you when you were nine years old. When you lived in Newton. We never knew that you lived here. You didn't remember it.

I looked up your parents (my grandparents) in the City Directory. There they were. It was somewhat shocking. You lived HERE. In Newton. I had several dreams right then, in the space of five minutes. I thought maybe the house I'd bought was the one you lived in as a little girl. If that wasn't true, I daydreamed that I would drive by your house and it would be for sale. That it would be restored (the kitchen at least...who wants an old dingy 1927 kitchen?), but that the original woodwork would be intact. That the lawn would be green and mowed, and that the house would be an exceptional bargain. That in the attic I'd find an old doll or a journal of yours, or that somewhere I'd find something that had been yours. I'd buy the house, and I'd visit and own the house where you had lived.

The first night I slept here on this visit, I dreamed about you. I never dream about you. You were wearing a yellow shirt, and you weren't memory sick. You were just my regular mom, and you knew me. I looked right at you and said, "I KNEW you'd be here." and I hugged you and you hugged me back. Man, it felt so real and good. Anyway, after Jay and I left the Historical Society we drove to the address of where you lived. It was sad. It was an old, run down house that hadn't been taken care of. Jay said, "well, I guess you don't need a picture of that." but I took one anyway. Shoot, I don't care about that house. But the thought of you being here, maybe walking down Main Street on occasion, playing in your front yard, going to the Sunday school that gave you that Bible all those years ago, that I like.

If you and I sat down together, I don't even know if we'd say much. I think we'd just sit on some couch and pull our legs up along side us and chat a little. Your hands were always so beautiful. Nice nails, long fingers, smooth and olive in complexion. You would always play with our hair, just brushing it back from our faces. You would touch our shoulders or drum your fingers along ours. You were just perfectly affectionate with all of us. You loved us all, but you weren't sappy or mushy about it. You were strong and capable. You were a great mom, and I'm not sure if we celebrated you enough. Since dad's birthday was first, he seemed to always get the parties and the hoo-ha. And you were the one that held everything together. Don't think I don't know that. Don't think we didn't all know that. We did. So I'd like to celebrate the little girl who lived in Newton, with the beautiful hands, who grew up to raise a good family, and brush the hair out of all our eyes, and who showed us girls how to love, and care, and be strong and capable. Happy Birthday, a little late.

Welcome Isabella

This is going to sound funny, but I'm sleeping with Suzy tonight. I'm in the spare room at my sister's house. Suzy, my niece is lying about a foot away, asleep already. We've been sporadically sharing the same bed for 35 years now. We are just a few years apart and our birthdays are on the same day. We are in Phoenix today because her sister, and my niece (Hi Annie!) just had a beautiful baby girl, Isabella. And here we are, sleeping in the same bed, talking late and laughing. When we were little, I can remember lying in the dark, finally quiet and near sleep, and out of the blue she would ask me some goofy question, or make a comment that was completely off the wall. It happened so often that after a while, I would just start to giggle anytime I slept next to her because I was waiting on that voice in the dark.

I used to do this horrible thing to her. I had moved from Kansas to Phoenix when I was 21 and I lived with Suzy, her mother (my sister), my niece, Ann, and my nephew Neal. I worked late and would come in around midnight. Suzy and I shared a room and had a bunk bed and I would tap her on the shoulder and say (she was still in high school and on the volleyball team, which had practices at 5:00 am) Hey! Your alarm didn't go off! It's 5:15! Get up! and she would jump out of her bed and run in to the bathroom and get in the shower. She still talks to me. Amazing.

Annie had a baby. Her first. She is the baby and now she had a little girl, Isabella (Izzy) who is the youngest of that generation of kids. Jay loves her. It was really cool to see them all together. Izzy is filled with one day old babyness; strange funny noises, ability to curl up into a tiny ball, and itty bitty fingernails. The kids just want to hold her and stare at her little face and touch her soft head. Everyone is very happy about the new baby. Suzy's kids, my boy, and Annie's new baby. They're good kids. The future is coming fast.

Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the
universe, a moment that will never be again. And what
do we teach our children? We teach them that two and
two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France.
When will we also teach them what they are?

We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are?
You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that
have passed, there has never been another child like you.
Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move.

You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven.
You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel.
And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is,
like you, a marvel?

You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy
of its children.
--Pablo Casals (1876-1973)

We Love a Sale

I bought a Dutch Apple pie from Coco's tonight. On special for 6.99. Yum. Jay loves apple pie and I figure six slices must be the equivalent of one serving of fruit. Hahaha. Anyway, as he was eating his pie he looked at me and said, "Mom, you'll probably laugh at me when I tell you this, but right now I feel like I'm in the flower department at Sam's club. Or even the flower department at the Dillon's store in Newton. That's how good I feel eating this pie."

Yes, I did laugh. Yes, it was that good.

Where am I?!

So anyway, this is my day so far.......I wake up and I'm in L.A. at that nice little park off Sunset Blvd. I've been sleeping on a bench and there are children playing near by. I sit up and look around. I think I've been wearing the same clothes for a few days. The grass is a brilliant green and the sky is it's normal soft brown color. It's a beautiful day but I have no recollection of why or how I ended up in California on a park bench a mile from Beverly Hills. Was I abducted? Am I on a reality show? Am I dreaming I was abducted and put on a reality show? Did I eat too much chocolate and am suffering from extreme chocolate induced amnesia (this has actually happened to me several times)? Despite all these things going on, the only thing I can think about is...I DIDN'T BLOG FOR FOUR FREAKING DAYS. HOLY CRAP. Hahahaha. Not really. I'm still in Flagstaff.

I have no excuse. I just didn't FEEL like writing. Although for some reason I have thought about that little park a few times lately so I thought I'd work it in. I was quite fond of that small triangle of grass with the tiny playground nestled among all the Porsche's and Ferrari's. It was a good place to read a book, and of course, daydream that Johnny Depp (from 21 Jump Street fame) would walk up and ask me out to dinner. There are definitely a few things I miss about L.A., although It's been years since I lived there. I miss that house down by that park that looked like it was made out of white frosting. It had blue mosaic inlaid all over the place and there were swirls of very smooth stucco (I think) all over. I miss the beach when it rained, and Gladstones 4 Fish, which is still one of my favorite restaurants. Suzy and I would get there in the late afternoon and wait for a booth by the window and we would just look out at the ocean and watch the sun go down and we really felt like movie stars......plus, best clam chowder EVER MADE. I miss driving in L.A., through Laurel Canyon and over from the valley into Malibu. The pier was fun and interesting, and of course Venice Beach was a wacky destination if we only went there once a month. The L.A. Co. Art Museum was great. And, I could find any kind of food ANY TIME AT ALL. There are many things I wasn't wild about too, but that's another post. There are good reason why I'm here and not there. But my utopia is a conglomeration of all the places I've lived, and L.A. had some coolness I miss.

I start teaching school Monday. I like having poetry in my head. I like words. One poetry class and one English 100. The great thing about 100 is that we concentrate on perfect sentences more than perfect essays. It's so much easier to write an awesome sentence than an awesome essay. And since I'm a low achiever I have no problem being completely satisfied by that.

Starbucks chat........Now, you might not think It's a big deal to go through the drive through and order a Grande Mocha With An Extra Shot, and then when you get to the window and they hand you your drink, say, OMG, I MEANT TO ORDER AN ICED DRINK. You might think that you're the only one who has done this. This crazy act of forgetting it's HOT outside and you wanted iced and not steaming. You might even think it's as simple as pouring the hot drink over ice (Really? Could you really think that?). But it's not that simple. And you are not the only one who has committed this HEINOUS COFFEE DRINK ERROR. At least ten people before you and ten people after you have or will do this. Here's the solution! Just take the damn drink, go home, stick it in the fridge and in an hour, pour it over ice. There. If you don't order your drink right, just take some personal responsibility and buck up. Maybe you will learn to order the drink you want. Thank you.

I'm writing a book. That's all I have to say about THAT. I will never speak of it again until it becomes available at your local bookstore.

Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry,
without a certain unsoundness of mind.
--Thomas Babington Macauley (1800-1859) English politician

Groovy, man.

I'm watching a special on the History channel about Woodstock. Wavy Gravy, Ritchie Havens, Country Joe and the Fish, Santana. Sly and the Family Stone, Abbie Hoffman, Janis Joplin. I know some of you remember it. People CHANGED the world. I love seeing all the folks who are in their 50's and 60"s now that were there as teenagers. So many of them went on to make a difference (and yes, so many of them overdosed and didn't even make it to 30). What an energy there was then. Not just Woodstock but that whole era. I was on the tail end of it but those periods of great change are very fascinating to me. Human rights, Vietnam, Martin Luther King. And Woodstock. Every person between 15 and 30 needs to watch this special so you can thank all the people in their 40"s, 50's and 60's for making it a little easier to speak your mind and grow your hair and be free (and smoke pot). Watch it.

Woodstock

By the way, Country Joe MacDonald from Country Joe and the Fish looks like a high school principal now.

True That

Barry had a birthday. Here's what I got him.













Here we are using it.....





































You can never go wrong with the silly straw.

faux hawk

I learned how to get pictures off my camera. Here are the haircut pictures. (if I ever write the word "pics" there is something wrong with my head and someone should call a doctor. I don't know why but some words are just WRONG to me.) Anyway, here's the haircut that is STILL inspiring irritation in my house.



I had a bad haircut myself once. Actually it was a perm and a haircut. J.C. Penney's, fourteen years old. They cut off all my hair and permed it into a big puff ball. I was wearing a hooded sweater and I left the salon in tears with my hood over my new hair. I got over it...but I still remember it. I wish I had pictures of THAT.

Confession

I was not really on vacation. Hahahaha. I was lazy. Also, I wanted to refresh you on some great quotes. Mostly, I was lazy. I have several stories to relate but they include pictures that are still in my camera or phone and I'm too lazy to hook up the cords and hit "import." There's the "Haircut" and there's the "Barry's Birthday." and they both have photo input. But......

Jay got a faux hawk. This is a haircut that is not a mohawk but resembles one. Here's my conversation on THAT over the last couple days......

Jay - (Tuesday afternoon right after haircut) - I LOVE my hair!!!!
Me - Me too!
Jay - (In thirty minutes) - I HATE my hair.
Me - Why? It looks great!
Jay - It's all flat now. Everyone at school will HATE it.
Me - It'll be fine.
Jay - (Right before bed) I LOVE my hair.

Jay - (next morning texted to me at work) I HATE MY HAIR !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me - (No response)
Jay - (Noon, when I get home) - Did you get my text? I hate my hair. It's stupid.
Me - Yes, I go your text. It's not stupid, it's just a haircut. It'll grow out. And it looks good.
Jay - Really? Are you being honest?
Me - Yes, it's good!
Jay - (An hour later) - I LOVE my hair! I need stronger gel.

Jay - (After a gel run to Target) - I love my hair.
Me - Good.
Jay - (An hour later) - I hate my hair. I bet 60% of my class will hate it.
Me - Okay, stop now. It's just hair. Anyway, I bet only 15% will hate it.
Jay - Yeah? Who? Who do you think will hate it?
Me - No one will hate it. It's cool.
Jay - I'm going to be so embarrassed. It's too short.
Me - It makes you look mature.
Jay - (Right before bed) - I love my hair.

Jay - (This morning) - I HATE my hair. I'm going to wear it wet because it looks longer.
Me - No you're not. Stop grousing about your hair.
Jay - I hate it.
Me - (No response)
Jay - (Several hours, and three different gel applications later) I LOE my hair.
Me - I'm going to bed now.

Part II

Jill is still on vacation. Today is the second half of "favorite quotes." Enjoy.

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. - Ralph Waldo Emerson


in dwelling, live close to the ground.
in thinking, keep to the simple.
in conflict, be fair and generous.
in governing, don_t try to control.
in work, do what you enjoy.
in family life, be completely present.- Tao Te Ching

If you want to change some things in your life, you have to change some things in your life. This is because if you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always gotten - unknown

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects. - Robert A. Heinlein

The three grand essentials of happiness are: Something to do, Someone to love, and Something to hope for - Alexander Chalmers

Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
--Anne Sexton

Come to the edge. We might fall. Come to the edge.
It's too high! Come to the edge! And they came,
and he pushed...... and they flew.
-- Christopher Logue

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about
to begin--real life. But there was always some obstacle
in the way, something to be gotten through first, some
unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to
be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me
that these obstacles were my life.
-- Alfred D. Souza

Life is a grindstone. Whether it grinds us down or
polishes us up depends on us.
--Thomas L. Holdcroft

What will you do with your one wild and precious life?
--Mary Oliver

"When I die, I want to die like my grandfather--who died peacefully in=
his sleep. Not screaming like all the passengers in his car."
--Author Unknown

"Happiness depends upon ourselves."
Aristotle

"It's not having been in the dark house, but having left it that
counts."
Theodore Roosevelt

"Keep on sowing your seeds, for you never know which will grow -
perhaps it all will."
Ecclesiastes, 11:6

"Question: What do you see yourself doing five years from now? Answer:
I have no idea. I've never had a career plan and never will. I just
always make sure that I'm doing something I love at the moment, and I find
out where it takes me. I float downriver, then I wake up and say, 'Oh,
here I am. I've had a swell float.'"
Diane Sawyer, interviewed in US Magazine, September 1997

"Earth's crammed with Heaven."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
From Chapter 8, Giving

Become a possibilitarian. No matter how dark things
seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see
possibilities - always see them, for they're always there.
--Norman Vincent Peale

Perhaps the secret of living well is not in having all the
answers but in pursuing unanswerable questions in
good company.
--Rachel Naomi Remen

"I imagine that yes is the only living thing."
e.e. cummings

part I

Jill is on vacation and has left a list of her favorite quotes to publish in her stead. Please enjoy. She will return day after tomorrow.
--- The Editors

You may not be responsible for being down, but you must be
responsible for getting up.
--Jesse Jackson

I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by
risking, by giving, by losing.
--Anais Nin, Writer (1903-1977)

I could not believe in a God that could not dance.
--Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) German philosopher

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs - ask yourself what makes you
come alive, and then
go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
---Harold Whitman


If the only prayer you said in your whole life was,
'thank you,' that would suffice.
- Meister Eckhart

If you can't be a good example -- then you'll just have to be a
horrible warning.
-Catherine-

Your work is to discover your world
and then with all your heart give yourself to it.
--The Buddha

When you plant lettuce, if it does not grow well, you don't
blame the lettuce. You look for reasons it is not doing
well. It may need fertilizer, or more water, or less sun.
You never blame the lettuce. Yet if we have problems with
our friends or family, we blame the other person. But if we
know how to take care of them, they will grow well, like
the lettuce. Blaming has no positive effect at all, nor
does trying to persuade using reason and argument. That is
my experience. No blame, no reasoning, no argument, just
understanding. If you understand, and you show that you
understand, you can love, and the situation will change.
--Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Zen Master

I wonder why it is that we are not all kinder to each
other than we are. How much the world needs it! How
easily it is done!
--Henry Drummond (1851-1897)

The relationship between commitment and doubt is by no means
an antagonistic one. Commitment is healthiest when it is not
without doubt but in spite of doubt.
--Rollo May

You can't do anything about the length of your life, but
you can do something about its width and depth.
--H.L. Mencken, writer, editor, and critic (1880-1956)

How far you go in life depends on your being tender with
the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with
the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because
someday in life you will have been all of these.
--George Washington Carver

If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to
do is keep on walking.
--Buddhist Saying

Go Cardinals (#11 in a series of 30)

I'm sitting in bed eating zucchini bread. I think there's some rule about eating after 7:00 pm but I'm just going to have to ignore that rule. Nom nom nom. (I read that eating sound thing on facebook and it cracked me up.)

Jay and I went to watch the Cardinals practice today. We have a strategy; we get there when practice (2 hours) is halfway over, then I go hang out against the fence where all the players pass by after practice. Jay watches the practice and then joins me when practice is close to being over. It's very important to get a space right next to the fence. I am very protective of my spot and I feel it belongs to me. After all, I got there early and waited in the hot sun. Don't expect to get close to the players and get the good autographs if you aren't willing to stand in the miserable sun sweating with nothing to do. So, anyway, we were there, standing next to a kind of big kid around thirteen and a couple with their five year old. By the time practice was over there were scads of folks behind us but I was standing quite solid with my hands on the fence and my body A PIECE OF STEEL. They could not get by me. Hahahaha.

Jay was right in front of me. The couple on one side of me was nice. The boy on the other side of us seemed like a good boy, but his mother was a shrew. She was sitting in a lawn chair a ways away and kept walking over to yell at this boy. "Here's you brother's ball. Get it signed too. He got a ticket from the coach to go meet one of the players and he's getting a HAT."

"Mom" the kid said, "I can't get his ball signed too, they only sign one thing and then they move on"

"You'll get that ball signed or you can walk home, and Phoenix will take you awhile. Now do what I say. Your brother has Kurt Warner's autograph on his and you don't"

The woman next to me gives me a look. I looked at the shrew woman. The kid seemed a little embarrassed.

"Okay, I'll try" he says.

She's still yelling at this poor boy. "Don't drop your brother's ball. I don't know who you think you are mister but I better see a signed ball when this is over."

The players start to come off the field. We're getting autographs. The shrew woman trys to push in. We all hold our ground. She starts yelling at her son again. "Get it SIGNED. Get it SIGNED." Picture a younger, meaner Phyllis Diller. At the same time the woman next to me says "Stop yelling at your kid two inches from my ear" and I say "It's just an autograph." She hears us both, turns away and sits in her lawn chair. The kid smiles. Matt Leinart signs everything we ask him to. A point for our side.

Movie Review Day

Just watched a documentary called Young at Heart. It was a Sundance 2008 winner. Read about it. You'll want to watch it.

Young@Heart
Directed by Stephen Walker
Starring the Young@Heart Chorus, Bob Climan

It's been a long time since Fox Seachlight has released a documentary, but knowing their proclivity for music and popular crowd-pleasing fare, this one is right up their alley, looking at the Young@Heart Chorus, a group of elderly 70 and 80 somethings from Northhampton, Mass. who get together to create their own versions of alternative rock and punk songs. As it opens with their rendition of The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" you might assume this is going to be a novelty film or one that derives its laughs from watching old people singing unlikely music. In fact, this is a satisfying and touching film about the trials and tribulations faced by the group and its excitable taskmaster Bob Climan, as we watch him try to prepare the group to learn new material for their upcoming season. A fan of hip rock bands like the Talking Heads, Climan tries to find songs that the group can put their own unique spin on, and hopefully, that they can relate to, but the group's reaction to his introduction of Sonic Youth's "Schizophrenia" is absolutely priceless. Watching them try to learn standards like James Brown's "I Feel Good" is equally amusing.

Rather than just filming rehearsals and showing how the songs progress (or in some cases, digress), Stephen Walker talks to individual members and spends time with them away from rehearsals to allow the viewer to get a true feeling for the infectious spirit and personalities of these amazing people. It doesn't shy away from the sad fact that when people are that old, they might suffer from health problems, which becomes clearer when two of the group's beloved members suddenly pass away, making the group's version of Coldplay's "Fix You" even more emotional as the ballad is given new meaning in the hands of the elderly singers. If watching them perform this doesn't have you close to tears, then you are indeed a cool customer, but seeing a group of prison inmates watching the group's poignant performance of "Forever Young" and seeing not a dry eye in the house makes you realize that it's okay to let the emotion of this film wash over you.

Not just a movie for older people but one for those who have elderly parents or grandparents, this entertaining and often moving documentary captures a moment in time in the lives of these amazing older people, something that should help even the youngest of viewer get in touch with their own mortality and make it clear that life doesn't have to end at 60."


We also WENT to a movie called Funny People and it was hysterical. It was most definitely R rated. Adam Sandler can be good when he does more than just the slapstick funnyguy thing and he had some serious moments that were really excellent. And still, it was a bit raunchy and VERY funny. I LOVE movies. When I had my glorious One Year of Opus (see my third post, July 2007), I had "make a documentary" on my list and I never did it. I'm a failure. JUST KIDDING. I am not a failure, I just have not done it yet. When I watch documentaries I get so inspired, then I go work at Starbucks. AUUGGGGHHHHH. I have a desire to be more than I am. Does everyone have that desire? I get a little crazy and want to quit my job and go to film school. And the deficit/asset about me is that I might do it.

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would
hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left
and could say, "I used everything you gave me."
--Erma Bombeck

Hmmmmm

So I thought about writing one sentence per day. What if we could only say one thing in 24 hours? Would we make it important? Would it be simple? Would "can I have a glass of milk" suffice? What would one sentence a day do? Could we survive with " please hold me" or "I feel sad and need reassurance" or would it all be little things like "are we having pancakes for breakfast?"? What if your only sentence was "fuck you" or "bitch.?" What if it was "you're so cool" or "don't worry." Aren't the words we use amazing? Aren't they?

8/6/09

I fell asleep last night with my computer in my lap, open to this page. I was starting a blog and I just couldn't keep my eyes open. That's what happens when you have to be at work at 4:15 in the morning. You get flipping TIRED.

I was going to write about my lovely garden. I'm getting lots of zucchini, yellow squash, tomatoes, peppers of all kinds and beets and turnips. We had mashed turnips with butter the other night and Jay just about lost it. So, here's the recipe I use for zucchini bread. If you don't grow zucchini, go buy some and make this bread! Oh, I up the cinnamon to 2 tablespoons. Yum1


Easy Zucchini Bread


Ingredients for one loaf:
3 eggs
1 cup oil
2 cups sugar
2 cups peeled and grated zucchini
3 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup nuts
3 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking powder

Directions:
Stir together eggs, oil, sugar, zucchini. Sift together flour, soda, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder. Add to zucchini mixture. Stir in vanilla and nuts. Bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour. You may need 15 minutes more. Cool completely before freezing. Makes 2 loaves.

This recipe from ezinearticles.com

Picks of the Week

I read a great book. It's called The Book Thief and you should read it. Here's a brief synopsis....

"The Book Thief is a 2005 best-selling novel by Markus Zusak, and a 2007 Michael L. Printz Award Honor Book. As of April 2009 it has been on the New York Times Children's Best Seller list. Although American publisher Knopf has marketed the nearly 600-page book set in Nazi Germany as a young-adult novel, it was originally intended and published in Zusak's native Australia specifically for adults. The Book Thief is set in Nazi Germany. Beginning in 1939, it focuses on a German girl, Liesel, who is sent by her mother to live with foster parents in a small town near Munich. As Liesel learns to cope with her new environment, all the pains she has endured, and the extreme unhappiness of pre-war and wartime Germany, she yearns to escape via reading. Her foster father Hans helps her learn to read, and Liesel finds books here and there — in a snowy graveyard, in a Nazi book-burning, and inside the local mayor's house. She has a few friends; first her neighbor and classmate, Rudy, and later the son of a soldier her foster father knew in WWI, Max, a Jew whom her new family must hide in their basement. While the toll of WWII, Allied bombing, and Nazi brutality increases, Liesel's world starts to crumble, but words and reading sustain her."

The thing I loved the most is the poetics of the writing. Zusak adds little one or two sentence bolded lines that give hints or specific details. His descriptions are amazing. Yet it's an easy book to read. It was in the young adult section and yet is very much an adult book.

I also saw a great movie called Up. Here is a brief plot summary......

"A young Carl Fredrickson meets a young adventure spirited girl named Ellie. They both dream of going to a Lost Land in South America. 70 years later, Ellie has died. Carl remembers the promise he made to her. Then, when he inadvertently hits a construction worker, he is forced to go to a retirement home. But before they can take him, he and his house fly away. However he has a stowaway aboard. An 8 year old boy named Russell, whose trying to get an assisting the elderly badge. Together, they embark in an adventure, where they encounter talking dogs, an evil villain and a rare bird named Kevin."

This movie may be rated G but it's really for adults. You will love it and the first seven minutes will make you cry. Not sob, just sniff a few times and brush away a single tear from your eye that is watering because you are allergic to something in the theater.

I have no music recommendations. I can only say that my son is playing 3 Doors Down and Nickelback non-stop and today I finally had to turn on the news in the car and say "Do NOT TOUCH MY RADIO" when we drove to Target. I need to expand my music horizons as I've really let things slip. I guess I could advise listening to Counting Crows, August and Everything After again. I still think that's worthy. And Jethro Tull's Aqualung is never a wrong choice.

There. Picks of the week. Read the book.

The Rest of the Story

So, last night's post was a bit sparse. I wanted to honor my 30 days of Stuff even if I wrote (doodled) nonsense. So, consider it my introduction.....


I'm building a small addition onto the house. But first, the backyard, which we fondly call Beirut, needed a little fixing. There was a trampoline back there that Jay was done with, and as much as I liked it, it was time to make it go away. I called a few friends and found a taker. Carolyn came over with her two kids in tow in the early evening and we sat and drank a little wine and ate cheese and bread sticks. Chris, her husband, and his friend, Gabe, showed up a couple hours later and we sat around the outdoor table for another hour. It got dark! We had a trampoline to move! So, we just decided to carry it out of the backyard, set it on the roof of their car, and be done with it. Five of us moved it in fifteen minutes. I laughed so hard the entire time. Here are a few pictures.

We didn't even tie it down! We called it the floating potato chip and the huge alien space ship and then they got in their van and drove that thing home. Had we actually thought about what we were doing we probably would not have done it. We did not take out the satellite dish, although it was close. We did not put a hole in the neighbor's siding. We did not spend hours with screw drivers and springs. I like having friends that just get'er done. They got it home and it was being jumped on again by 10:00 am. Now that's a party.

Seven sentence post

Sold the trampoline tonight. Five of us carried it over the fence and stuck it on top of an older VW Vanagon and it sailed off down the street. Yes, there may have been wine involved. Pictures tomorrow. Work way too early in the morning. I have an empty back yard. Yeah!

When I grow up.....

Nothing profound.
Nothing witty.
Just a darn good example of macro photography.
Hahahaha.

I love stickbugs. One reason I bought my house
was that there were stickbugs about and I thought
that might be a lucky thing, I suppose
I tend to assign "luck" to things I like, which may still
result in lucky/blessed/stellar outcomes. It all works
for me! Also, I am growing round carrots,
which I did no even know existed. But they do.



Here is a list of some other things I would have liked to have been. I used to really like that quote, "It's never too late to be what you might have been" but I can see that it isn't always possible. Once you own a home and have kids and work a job and establish a life, it takes either a great amount or courage or a tremendous amount of stupidity to change it, especially when you LOVE the life you have. So, I fondly look at the things I would liked to have concentrated on earlier in life but didn't, either because I had no idea they were possibilities or because of lack of talent or because I just made other choices.....
Photographer
Architect
Singer
Psychologist
Archaeologist
Anthropologist
Hat check girl
Loan shark
Welder

When I was little, say ten or so, I wanted to be a witch.

Okay, I may still be a famous photographer. Or a loan shark. Give me a few years. The -gist's are probably out....I have no desire to go back to school and take math or science. I would still like to weld, but I would like to use it as an art, not work at some factory. The singer idea is a bust. My singing is so very wrong. Hmmmmm. Stay tuned.

The successful always has a number of projects planned,
to which he looks forward. Anyone of them could change
the course of his life overnight.
--Mark Caine

"TEN BUCKS" she hollered. (part III of a 30 day series)

Guess where Jay and I were today. Guess. Come on, do it.

Antiques Roadshow! Hahahaha. We were. Antiques Roadshow was filming in Phoenix today. We like to watch it on PBS. I always shout out the price I think am item will come in at.

"SIX TO SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS" I shout into the living room.
Underneath the item scrolls the words, Folk art chest 1870, $6,500.00.
I'm not always spot on but I tend to be fairly close.

Several months ago I heard they were coming to Phoenix. I got on-line and entered my name in the ticket lottery. Several weeks ago I got the e-mail that I had been picked to receive tickets. COOL. So Jay and I drove down to Phoenix. We took four items; an old sword, a vase, a bell and a cameo pendant. On the ticket there was an entrance time. DO NOT ARRIVE EARLY, the ticket warned in a menacing tone. We were at the door to the convention center at 10:50. Stood in the first line for about an hour. They gave us tickets for each classification (we had four different ones; Asian Arts, jewelry, military and glass). Stood in line another 20 - 40 minutes each for the vase, the sword and the bell. Did NOT make it to the jewelry table because we were starving and tired of lines.

The sword was made in 1890 in Klingenthal, France. It had been used, as in probably did sever a few limbs (how would they know that?). Worth $200 - $300. The vase had us going. The woman looking at it, got up and went to a few other appraisers to discuss it. We thought we were millionaires. Or at least might be able to afford a nice lunch. She came back clueless though. Could be real, could be a reproduction. She said to have it appraised by Southebys in New York. Yeah, right. Anyhow, I love that vase. The bell was from WWII Japan but worth about ten bucks. The best part was the people-watching. There was, sadly, an abundance of dashed hopes as folks were told that the hand carved walking stick they inherited from their great uncle Ted was NOT worth thirty thousand dollars. One woman had a clock all wrapped up in a blanket and bungee corded to a wagon. She was sure it was a major collectible. Thought it might be in the HUNDREDS of thousands. When the guy appraising that classification told her it was a reproduction and that there were a million made and hers might be worth about fifty bucks, I thought she was going to heave it at him. The guy in line in front of us had so much make-up on Jay and I could not take our eyes off him. He must have been 60, jet black hair that glistened with hair spray, eye liner, and a strangely orange tan that stopped at his neck and ears.

A good one was the carousel horse that was old and chipped and beautiful that was appraised for twenty thousand. That couple was very happy and as they walked out someone asked them what is appraised for. "The price of a new car" they said.

It was fun, and one of those things that I only have to do once. Done. Checked off the list. I'm very content to watch it on PBS. I think I'm going to sell the sword, keep the vase, wear the Cameo, and ring the bell while I sit on the couch watching Antiqes Roadshow to have one of the servants bring me another glass of wine. Perfect.

My Dad's Birthday

Dear dad,

Happy Birthday!!! I wanted to write to you but I didn't know where to send the card. I don't know what happens after the last breath leaves the body but I hope there is something else. Some people believe in the Golden Streets of Heaven theory, and I kind of wish I did (the idea of seeing you in your Knightsbridge trousers and one of those knit shirts you always liked is a wonderful thought), but I don't. So, I'm going to go with the crazy ass idea that maybe you read my blog. No, I don't use language like crazy ass all the time.

I'm okay. After you left, there were times I didn't know if I was going to be okay. I missed you calling me in the morning to help you with the jumble, and calling at night to see if the house was locked up. I wanted to just KNOW where you were. It was a hard time. Mom (Hi mom!) came up to live by us, and Jay and I would go get her several times a week and take her to the pet shop and the Galaxy Diner and the museum (I'm sure she's filled you in on all this). Her memory was shot, and she hated the place where she lived. It got better as her memory got worse. She liked it okay after awhile. Do you remember how she used to stand on the porch in Topeka and watch the storms come in? You and I would be in the basement and she would be in the wind and the rain looking for the tornado to reach down from those black clouds. And you could not get her down those stairs until she was ready. That's how it was. She was adamant that she wanted to GO HOME and she was NOT going to stay in that place. She had a nice, studio apartment in the Alzheimer unit but every time Jay and I showed up, she would have every single item in the room packed up and stacked by the door. "I'm ready to go now" she would say and Jay would look at me like SOMEONE must be crazy but he couldn't figure out who. She was there four years. At the very very end, when she forgot how to eat and it was really tough, she still smiled at me. I'm glad she's with you now.

There are some things I do because of you. I garden. Man, the garden is awesome. You would love it. I have all kinds of vegetables, although I did not grow okra. I could never stand it when mom made it. it's slimy, dad. Really. I make you zucchini bread every year with zucchini from the garden and send it up to you on November 1st, The Day of the Dead AND the day you died. I hope you can at least smell it. Barry made pasta last night with a sauce filled with yellow squash. I call it "squarsh" the same way you used to and Jay gets irritated at my butchering of the English language. When I say, "that's the way your grandpa said it" he smiles.

I also try to be a good person. I think I'm at about 80/20. You were always honest. You were always good to people and down to earth and dependable. Also, you were always curious about the world. You said once that you wished you had been able to go up in a spaceship and see the world from that high. You liked people and people liked you back. I'm working on all that. Except the spaceship thing.

Jay is a good boy. You would be proud of him. He is a basketball player and he does well in school. I still want to get him out golfing more. Remember when we used to all go golfing, you and mom and me? You guys would let me drive the golf cart even though I was too young and we'd go flying over those rolling fairways. Remember when we were staying in that hotel on our way to California to see Aunt Etha (Hi Aunt Etha!) and you and I crept out into that onion field early in morning while mom finished packing and we filled a paper sack with onions? And how six hours later after being the the sweltering trunk, they stunk so bad we had to throw them out? And wash EVERYTHING when we got to Etha's. Hahaha. That was funny.

Barry is my boyfriend. You would like him. He is good to animals and he taught Jay to play backgammon. He makes pottery on a wheel and you would love to watch him make something. It starts out as this lump of clay and then spins around and turns into bowls and cups. The clay seems like it has a life of it's own as it thins out and moves like liquid into a taller, finer shape. He is good to me. I know that's the thing that would matter the most to you. But he's also fun, and funny, and smart.

I work at Starbucks. I know that would be a-ok with you. You never had big aspirations for me, but work ethic was important to you. Sometimes I have to be at work at 4:15 am. Yes, I get up that early. Yes, I know you would not believe it. I also teach poetry at the college. Dad, my first book was published a year and a half ago. You would have given a copy to all your friends. You would have been very proud. Jay's on the cover.

When you died my friend Kate gave me this poem written by a little girl. I liked it and I've kept it and it's on my fridge. I thought you might like it. Somehow it made it easier for me. It's strange what makes things easier for people. It's all so different for everyone. This was one of mine......

When someone dies, a cloud turns into
an angel, and flies up to tell God
to put another flower on a pillow.
A bird gives the message back to
the world, and sings a silent prayer
that makes the rain cry. People disappear,
but they never really go away.
The spirits up there put the sun to
bed, wake up the grass, and spin the earth
in dizzy circles. Sometimes you
can see them dancing in a cloud during
the day-time, when they're supposed to be
sleeping. They paint the rainbows
and also the sunsets and make waves
splash and tug at the tide. They
toss shooting stars and listen to wishes.
And when they sing windsongs,
they whisper to us,
don't miss me too much. The view is nice
and I'm doing just fine.

Well, that's about all. I know there's so much more I'd like to say but I think I covered the basics. I have some great friends, I really like the town I live in, and I think about you guys a lot. I feel very grateful for this life. I miss you. Today is your birthday. I don't ever forget.

ox.

Thirty Days of Stuff

I have realized I have word constipation. I need to write, I want to write, but when I sit down and try to let the words plunk out, they get stuck. There I am, hunched over (this is NOT a pretty picture) groaning, and they just stay inside. Fuck. So, while I've been agonizing over what my writing THEME should be for the next 30 days, I have just not written a damn thing. So, starting today, I'm taking the writing laxative (a teeny pill with the even teenier words, I don't give a crap what people think, written on it) (Hell, I don't even know if anyone reads my damn blog) (Is there a rule regarding parenthesis-in-a-row?) (It appears also that I'm on a swearing jag), and I'm going to just WRITE every day for 30 days. No theme, no category to worry about, no guidance. Just write. I'm going to start with just a couple things.....

Can you all just have your money ready when you're waiting in a drive through line? Folks always look so surprised when I request a couple bucks for the latte they ordered. They've been waiting five minutes (talking on the PHONE of course, that's a WHOLE other post) and when they get to the window, they suddenly have to dig through change in the ashtray, riffle through their purse, or frantically search for quarters on the floor. Just saying.....

There was something about writing about constipation that made me swear more than usual. That's interesting. To me.

I'm not going to give myself any hard and fast parameters about this writing thing but I'm going to TRY to stretch and write about things other than ME. My friend Tyge wrote about 30 things and he wrote about bands and cock roaches and the like. I'm going to try and incorporate that It'snotallaboutme thing at least a few times.

There is a snake living in the backyard. Here's a picture of it. I like this. I feel like he's (she's?) just another part of the zoo. Doesn't bother the chickens. Stan seems oblivious. Barney could care less. The turtles stay inside. I picked him up the other day. He was really beautiful and felt dry and warm. He's about two feet long. He has a home under the porch and he has one particular small opening in the pavers that he has to crawl through to get in. He suns in the same place everyday. I find it to be a little gift, this snake living in the backyard.

And finally, because those of you that have been reading my blog probably miss the quotes, here's a couple......

My company mascot is the bumblebee. Because of its tiny wings and heavy body, aerodynamically the bumblebee
shouldn't be able to fly. But the bumblebee doesn't know that, so it flies anyways.
--Mary Kay Ash

"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."
--Drew Carey

DISCLAIMER: I, in fact, do not hate my job. I rather like it. But this quote ALWAYS makes me laugh.

____________________

There are too many things going on around here to write. I meant to say, there's nothing going on here to write about. Seriously, I'm still debating what to do my "30 days of _________" about. In the meantime, a few things......

My book, Game, was a finalist in the Patterson Poetry Prize. Li-Young Lee was the winner and he is amazing so I'm okay with it. I got the letter of congratulations - the one where they ask me to come and read my poems in NEW JERSEY. In FEBRUARY. For 300.00. And I put that letter in yet another one of my paper piles and thought...I can never do THAT. After a few days, during which time I realized I've never been to New York City, and I also realized (again) that life just fucking slips away if you let it, I have now decided that I am GOING to NEW YORK CITY. To read poems. And see museums. And Time Square.

My garden rocks.

I just started an etsy store. And, it's not about hand made stuff. It's a vintage store. It's only been up for a few days and I still have a lot more to add to it, but it's going. It's wonderbumble.etsy.com. I am too lazy to go through the cut and paste process right now, but if you look up wonder and then you look up bumble, that's got to be a good word if you smash 'em together.

Kansas II (psych)

I've been agonizing over writing my Kansas II post - not because something huge and emotional happened (or, more likely, something huge and embarrassing), but because I think I said it all in my Kansas I post. I had so much fun, but hey, I was only gone for 5 days. I even wrote a bit last night but it was so borrring. It pretty much went...

Oh I've been remiss. I've been meaning to write "Kansas II" and just haven't had time. So, here was Kansas in a nutshell... in the morning there was waking up, then coffee on the front porch. In the evening there were margaritas on the front porch. Blahblahblah. Neighborhood folks mowing lawns, riding bikes down the street, walking kids or dogs. Mostly, life was sitting on the front porch drinking something. Watching people. Waving to the neighbors. Blahblahblah. I like that life. Never want to live in that life on a regular basis though, just visit it from time to time.

I think there were another couple paragraphs but they are so very not important. So instead I thought I'd show you these nice reading glasses I stole. Yes. I stole them. Went in to my eye doctors to pick up my contacts and started trying on glasses. Nice, expensive reading glasses. Wasted a crapload of time trying on GLASSES that I was never going to BUY. Then, I get home and I have a pair on my head. Hahahahaha. I felt like an idiot. It reminded me of when my dad used to say, you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on. So anyway, they have been returned, I said my apologies, and the receptionist stifled a laugh.

I think I'm ready to do another "30 days of ___________." I was inspired by my blog friend, Tyge, who is doing "Thirty days of the simple things that make me smile" on his blog, The Neon Lounge. (which sounds a little goofy, but yesterday it was about dead cock roaches and it made me laugh really hard....check it out). I've done a couple of those blogs already....the "thirty days of beauty" and the "thirty days of blogging" so now I'm going to do (drumroll) "thirty days of recipes" Hahahaha. Not food recipes silly, although maybe I'll throw one of those in, but thirty days of how-to blogs, kind of like recipe poems. Let me explain. A recipe poem is where you poetically tell how to make something, or teach, or tell how something is done. So, I start tomorrow.

Kansas - I

After a while I start to forget the dead. My life becomes a routine. Eating. Drinking. Caring. Working. I don't even know what order to put them in.

Then, I read a great book. Or have a good conversation. I look at my child when he stands alone, staring into space in the front yard and I see him becoming a new person. A tomato or a squash becomes ripe. But still, I forget the dead. Then, I come back to Kansas. I see them everywhere. They make me smile. I see my mom at Pegues, shopping for a pair of gloves, or my dad, laughing with his buddy Nick about something funny from 30 years past. I see my grandma mashing potatoes or picking peas.

Today we did this; we went to see Nick. Nick is 90. He was one of my dad's best friends. He lives on a farm in the country. He has 20 cattle, a house he's lived in for 30 years, and a kind and humorous heart. He recognized my voice on the phone. He hugs me at the door. He tells us stories about driving out to see the new calves a week ago and getting his truck stuck. Then the tractor. Then his other truck. Then his other tractor. Then Woolsey came out and got his truck stuck. Finally, Woolsey's son came out with a friend, a winch, and a lift and got them all out. He treats my friends like they're good people. He treats my son like he's his own blood. He says, Some people want me to move into an easier place. This is where I want to die. Here. Have 'em dig a hole out there and put me in it. I got 140 acres. I hope he waits a while, but when he goes, I hope he goes sitting in the chair he sat in today when he was telling us the stories. When we leave, he gives hugs, shakes the boy's hands. He tells Jay to take care of his mother. He gives me directions to my parents graves because I can't remember.

Then, we went to see my Aunt Patty. She's my dad's sis. My cousin Jodi is there crocheting. I've been in Aunt Patty's kitchen a million times. My first cat, when I was nine, was a runt from her cat's litter. My grandma lived next door to her. She is our blood. She has made blankets for my sister and niece for us to take. We go out back and catch toads in the yard, like I did as a child. Jay is afraid of the toads at first, hesitates, then catches one. Soon, the boys are running through the yard carrying toads back to the garden. Last night it was fireflies in Newton. When we leave Aunt Patty gives us all a kiss and a hug. She is stuffed full of love and spills it out on everybody.

In between those two things, we eat Kansas BBQ. My dad loved BBQ. The dead are back. They sit with us while we eat.

Then, we drive past the penitentiary, past Main Street, and down Ave G until we get to the cemetery. My parents have a new headstone. It's beautiful. They would like it. We put flowers on the grave. Jay runs to the car to get his camera. We talk about them. How much we miss them. How much they've taken care of us. We walk to the car with our friends. We go get ice cream at Bogies. The sounds of lawn mowers and locusts are everywhere.