I need all of you to know about this great website.....
snopes.com
They get to the bottom of any rumor and tell you the facts. They are totally NOT affiliated with any political party, in fact, politics is just one of about a hundred headings on their site (sports, entertainment, financial, Disney, etc). It is a great site for finding out the truth, although you might be disappointed when you find out, no, Obama is NOT a radical Muslim.
I am not going to get political (although I did vote today....early voting rocks!) but I have to educate the masses on this one thing. If you're sending out, or if you receive, a "factual" e-mail about either candidate, or if you heard a rumor about Bruce Willis dating Drew Barrymore (I made that up), or if you just think that we never really went to the moon but filmed the landing in Studio 7 at Universal Studios, go to snopes.com.
And please, have the common sense to check out what the real truth is before sending off uneducated, fear-based, e-mails.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Day 2, (file under drivel)
Things that made me happy today.....
* Buying a ring made out of colored wire and beads from the little neighbor girls.
* Sleeping in, reading the paper, and watching SNL snippets on the computer with B.
* Changing out the kitchen faucet ALL BY MYSELF (except for the goo application and the tightening of the thingey).
* The following article.....
AP – Retired General Colin L. Powell, one of the country's most respected Republicans, stunned both parties on Sunday by strongly endorsing Sen. Barack Obama (D-Ill.) for president on NBC's "Meet the Press" and laying out a blistering, detailed critique of the modern GOP.
Powell said the election of Obama would "electrify the world."
"I think he is a transformational figure," Powell said. "He is a new generation coming ... onto the world stage and on the American stage. And for that reason, I'll be voting for Senator Barack Obama."
As a key reason, Powell said: "I would have difficulty with two more conservative appointments to the Supreme Court, but that's what we'd be looking at in a McCain administration."
Powell, once considered likely to be the nation's first African-American presidential nominee, said his decision was not about race.
Moderator Tom Brokaw said: "There will be some ... who will say this is an African-American, distinguished American supporting another African-American because of race."
Powell, who last year gave Republican John McCain's campaign the maximum $2,300, replied: "If I had only had that in mind, I could have done this six, eight, 10 months ago. I really have been going back and forth between somebody I have the highest respect and regard for, John McCain and somebody I was getting to know, Barack Obama. And it was only in the last couple of months that I settled on this."
"I can't deny that it will be a historic event when an African-American becomes president," Powell continued, speaking live in the studio. "And should that happen, all Americans should be proud — not just African-American, but all Americans — that we have reached this point in our national history where such a thing could happen. It would also not only electrify the country, but electrify the world."
And one thing that made me laugh out loud......
*
* Buying a ring made out of colored wire and beads from the little neighbor girls.
* Sleeping in, reading the paper, and watching SNL snippets on the computer with B.
* Changing out the kitchen faucet ALL BY MYSELF (except for the goo application and the tightening of the thingey).
* The following article.....
AP – Retired General Colin L. Powell, one of the country's most respected Republicans, stunned both parties on Sunday by strongly endorsing Sen. Barack Obama (D-Ill.) for president on NBC's "Meet the Press" and laying out a blistering, detailed critique of the modern GOP.
Powell said the election of Obama would "electrify the world."
"I think he is a transformational figure," Powell said. "He is a new generation coming ... onto the world stage and on the American stage. And for that reason, I'll be voting for Senator Barack Obama."
As a key reason, Powell said: "I would have difficulty with two more conservative appointments to the Supreme Court, but that's what we'd be looking at in a McCain administration."
Powell, once considered likely to be the nation's first African-American presidential nominee, said his decision was not about race.
Moderator Tom Brokaw said: "There will be some ... who will say this is an African-American, distinguished American supporting another African-American because of race."
Powell, who last year gave Republican John McCain's campaign the maximum $2,300, replied: "If I had only had that in mind, I could have done this six, eight, 10 months ago. I really have been going back and forth between somebody I have the highest respect and regard for, John McCain and somebody I was getting to know, Barack Obama. And it was only in the last couple of months that I settled on this."
"I can't deny that it will be a historic event when an African-American becomes president," Powell continued, speaking live in the studio. "And should that happen, all Americans should be proud — not just African-American, but all Americans — that we have reached this point in our national history where such a thing could happen. It would also not only electrify the country, but electrify the world."
And one thing that made me laugh out loud......
*
Saturday, October 18, 2008
November
I have so much to say.
I am filled with words. They are buzzing about like a full hive, bumbling into various folds of skin and battling my thick skull.
I have performance anxiety.
In blogging, I have performance anxiety. I think about writing every day, but I don't. So, I decided to just GET OVER IT. I don't really believe in writer's block. Either one writes or one doesn't. I just haven't been writing. But there are slumps. It might be laziness. It might be fear. I have a solution. I found my solution a few years ago when I wasn't writing much poetry. I just decided to write a poem a day. Can't write??? Then write all the time. About nothing. Write bad poems. Write one sentence poems. But just f**king write. Okay, I set out to do it for a year and ended up making it four months. It was HARD to write every day. But after, I wrote more consistently. So, for the month of November I'm going to write every single day. Yes, I know it's a holiday month. Plus, my niece, Ann, is getting married. I could, however, make excuses for EVERY month if I wanted to. So, that's my goal. I work better with goals. Especially ones that I splay out there to everyone. So I can be scolded and reprimanded (wow, maybe I like being scolded and reprimanded). Ehwww.
When I wrote a poem a day, I definitely wrote some shitty poems. And, I wrote some good stuff. Here's one that I liked that came out at 11:57 pm just because I hadn't written that day and I felt OBLIGATED.
How to find out (a recipe poem)
Unfold a checker board
on a plain table
with a cute boy. Have fun,
be ruthless, drink
cold beer and cheer
for yourself
and the boy too.
When it is inevitable you
are going to win and the boy
is seething quietly, turn
the board around, play
his two remaining pieces
against your former seven
(including two kings)
and win still. He will either
be wildly impressed
or hate your guts.
You need to know which
early on.
Not profound. Not really publishable. But I like it. And I wrote, whether I wanted to or not. No excuses. That's really all I want, to keep writing. It's very freeing to write crap and not care. So, of course, you should also see one of the bad ones...
The Copper Creek Mine
Juan took us down
into the mine.
It smelled like rain
and was as dark
as a brown bear.
Juan said
anyway
at the end of
each sentence
and the tunnel got
colder and colder
every hundred feet.
When we walked up
outside of the earth
an hour later,
Juan’s words
still sheltered us
against the bright collapse
of sun and lethargy.
Even I didn't know what the point was. Sun and lethargy?! WTF?
So, I'm going on a November marathon blog. And the rules. You KNOW I love rules. I'm NOT going to write about "writing". THAT will be refreshing. I'm so excited I kind of want to start today.
Shoot! What the heck. I think I will. Yes, I start today, October 18th. One month. I just became totally anxiety ridden. See you tomorrow.
I am filled with words. They are buzzing about like a full hive, bumbling into various folds of skin and battling my thick skull.
I have performance anxiety.
In blogging, I have performance anxiety. I think about writing every day, but I don't. So, I decided to just GET OVER IT. I don't really believe in writer's block. Either one writes or one doesn't. I just haven't been writing. But there are slumps. It might be laziness. It might be fear. I have a solution. I found my solution a few years ago when I wasn't writing much poetry. I just decided to write a poem a day. Can't write??? Then write all the time. About nothing. Write bad poems. Write one sentence poems. But just f**king write. Okay, I set out to do it for a year and ended up making it four months. It was HARD to write every day. But after, I wrote more consistently. So, for the month of November I'm going to write every single day. Yes, I know it's a holiday month. Plus, my niece, Ann, is getting married. I could, however, make excuses for EVERY month if I wanted to. So, that's my goal. I work better with goals. Especially ones that I splay out there to everyone. So I can be scolded and reprimanded (wow, maybe I like being scolded and reprimanded). Ehwww.
When I wrote a poem a day, I definitely wrote some shitty poems. And, I wrote some good stuff. Here's one that I liked that came out at 11:57 pm just because I hadn't written that day and I felt OBLIGATED.
How to find out (a recipe poem)
Unfold a checker board
on a plain table
with a cute boy. Have fun,
be ruthless, drink
cold beer and cheer
for yourself
and the boy too.
When it is inevitable you
are going to win and the boy
is seething quietly, turn
the board around, play
his two remaining pieces
against your former seven
(including two kings)
and win still. He will either
be wildly impressed
or hate your guts.
You need to know which
early on.
Not profound. Not really publishable. But I like it. And I wrote, whether I wanted to or not. No excuses. That's really all I want, to keep writing. It's very freeing to write crap and not care. So, of course, you should also see one of the bad ones...
The Copper Creek Mine
Juan took us down
into the mine.
It smelled like rain
and was as dark
as a brown bear.
Juan said
anyway
at the end of
each sentence
and the tunnel got
colder and colder
every hundred feet.
When we walked up
outside of the earth
an hour later,
Juan’s words
still sheltered us
against the bright collapse
of sun and lethargy.
Even I didn't know what the point was. Sun and lethargy?! WTF?
So, I'm going on a November marathon blog. And the rules. You KNOW I love rules. I'm NOT going to write about "writing". THAT will be refreshing. I'm so excited I kind of want to start today.
Shoot! What the heck. I think I will. Yes, I start today, October 18th. One month. I just became totally anxiety ridden. See you tomorrow.
Friday, October 3, 2008
art
watch this
A friend of mine sent me this short film. I thought it was really interesting and I liked it. It's a little graphic in a place or two (I think there's a breast somewhere. Okay, I do not usually consider a "breast" graphic but there are those times that children stand behind you peering over your shoulder, which by the way, makes me CRAZY, but since I don't know your family boundaries on viewing breasts, just thought I'd mention it). It made me happy that people are out there doing unique art. Seeing things like this makes me want to write more poems and paint more furniture, to take classes and read more books, to take more chances. It always makes me think the same thing going to see my mom used to make me think...Live Your Life Now. I have a cool digital camera that I don't even know how to use aside from taking video of Jay playing basketball. Why? Why aren't I being more creative with my resources? Well damn, I guess it's up to me.
A friend of mine sent me this short film. I thought it was really interesting and I liked it. It's a little graphic in a place or two (I think there's a breast somewhere. Okay, I do not usually consider a "breast" graphic but there are those times that children stand behind you peering over your shoulder, which by the way, makes me CRAZY, but since I don't know your family boundaries on viewing breasts, just thought I'd mention it). It made me happy that people are out there doing unique art. Seeing things like this makes me want to write more poems and paint more furniture, to take classes and read more books, to take more chances. It always makes me think the same thing going to see my mom used to make me think...Live Your Life Now. I have a cool digital camera that I don't even know how to use aside from taking video of Jay playing basketball. Why? Why aren't I being more creative with my resources? Well damn, I guess it's up to me.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Stories
I think I like telling stories best of all. I have a couple tonight.
Once upon a time there was a little girl. That would be me. Well, she wasn't that little, maybe ten years old. Her grandfather, who was kind of crazy and a bit mean, was in a nursing home outside of Halstead, Kansas and the little girl's mom (my mom) wanted to go see her father. Well, felt like she HAD to. It had been planned for a few weeks and the mom, Anna, hadn't been to see her own dad for quite a while. The grandpa's name was Henry, and he had been an ornery cuss, according to Anna's husband, Jay (my dad). He could never keep a job when the girl (now the mom), Anna, was a child; came home bruised up after fights, pushed the girls in the family around. Once, when he had lost several jobs, he decided to raise rabbits to sell, and Anna and her sisters had to kill and skin them because that's all they ate for many months (my mother could never bear to even look at rabbits as long as I knew her). When Anna turned 16, she went to work at Kreskies drugstore in Hutch, and her father, Henry, came by every Friday to pick up her check, which he cashed himself and spent. He didn't believe girls should go to high school, and my mom was the only girl out of three sisters who did go. Anna got a job to get out of the house, and was married to my father by the time she was in 12th grade.
So, anyway, back to the other story. Anna had a child, me, and we got in the car, an Oldsmobile Sedan, on that warm, gold, breezy summer day. My grandpa, who used to rub his whiskery face against mine hard until I would cry, was going to be waiting for us.
We got to Halstead around noon. My mom and dad and I walked into the nursing home, which was a single story building out in the smack middle of a million corn fields. We sat on those cold steel backed, vinyl seated chairs while my dad went up to the front desk to check in. Well, my grandpa was gone. He'd gone into town on a bus that morning at 10:00. Wasn't coming back until 3:00. We'd traveled three hours and he'd forgotten about us, or, as my dad figured, knew we were on our way but left anyhow. We were there though, and we were staying.
First, my dad and I wandered around the corn fields. I remember standing inside the field, and listening to the sound of the stalks swaying and brushing against each other. My dad asked me if I heard that sound, and I knew which sound he meant. I said yes and he said, that's the sound of the wind. I got bored out there and we walked back to the building. We sat outside and after a bit, a boy joined us. He was truly just a boy, maybe 25 years old. He lived in that place. He started picking through the ash can, taking cigarette butts out and trying to smoke them. My dad walked over to him and began talking to him to shift his attention. The boy's words came out slow and blurry. He went back inside at one point and my mother answered the question I asked her with my eyes like this; "He was in a tractor accident. He lives here now. That's why he talks funny. His brain was damaged"
He came back out. It was only 1:00. One hour had passed. The boy asked me a question. I could hardly understand him. He knew. He asked again, slower still. "Will you go to the farm with me?" My dad stood near me and heard the boy too. I didn't know what to say. My dad spoke, "No young man, she needs to go home with her mom and dad" The boy looked at me, then me dad. He said "I have something.
I give you a present" He walked off into the yard of the Home. He knelt down and looked at the ground for not more than a minute. He picked something up and came back. He handed me a four leaf clover. Really. I looked down at that clover in my hand. I said thank you. I was kind of sad that I couldn't go to the farm with him, because he had asked and I felt bad that he was in this place filled with old folks and with people like my grandpa. I also remember feeling acutely aware that I wanted to go home with my mom and dad.
The boy went back inside. My dad crawled around in that yard for the next hour looking for another four leaf clover, which he never found. My grandpa showed up a little after 3:00 and just laughed, but not the kind of laugh that makes you feel good. I carried that four leaf clover home with me, held in the palm of my hand for five hours. I put it on a piece of lined notebook paper, covered it with plastic wrap, and taped up all four sides. I still have it. I carry it in my wallet. It's pretty battered, and the clover is stuck down in the corner. During those times when I'm sure I've left my wallet at the library or at Target or at some bar, I don't worry about the money. I worry about that piece of notebook paper with the clover sunk down in the corner.
My second story is about a cat and a dog so I must now introduce B. I don't really know how the people in my life feel about being blogged about. I never really mention any of them by name, except Jay, and he doesn't read my blog. And of course, my parents, but they're cool with it. So, I mention B by initial, but I think about him with an exclamation point.
Jay and I are taking care of B's cat, Barney. Barney is named Barney because he was found in a barn. It's not really true that just Jay and I are taking care of Barney (aka Mr Barnes, Barnstormer, Barney Miller, Barnabus Collins, Barnaliscious, Barneyshmarney, etc, etc), B is here quite a bit so we're, in fact, all taking care of Barnes. Well, Stan the dog was here first. He was under the impression that HE was king. But now Barney and Stan share the couch. They share the bed. They eat each other's food and drink each other's water. There was never a hiss or a growl or a nip. They LOVE each other. But when Stan had a bath, courtesy of B, I could see it. Barney was right there, perched on the side of the tub. Looking a tad smug. Dipping his head down occaisionally to lap up a little bath water. And thinking;
WHAAAHAAHA I AM KING NOW!
I'm including the following quote (which I posted on my blog a year ago also) for a couple reasons...
Jay had to pick out a quote for his 5th grade class. I let him peruse my quotes, all 57 pages of them. After looking at quotes for half an hour, this is the quote he chose, with no help from me. It made me proud. Secondly, I should read this quote every day because sometimes I forget to keep doing the things that make me come alive. Instead I find (like everyone, I'm sure) myself doing the things that make money, or are easy, or contain no fear.
F**k that!
"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
Once upon a time there was a little girl. That would be me. Well, she wasn't that little, maybe ten years old. Her grandfather, who was kind of crazy and a bit mean, was in a nursing home outside of Halstead, Kansas and the little girl's mom (my mom) wanted to go see her father. Well, felt like she HAD to. It had been planned for a few weeks and the mom, Anna, hadn't been to see her own dad for quite a while. The grandpa's name was Henry, and he had been an ornery cuss, according to Anna's husband, Jay (my dad). He could never keep a job when the girl (now the mom), Anna, was a child; came home bruised up after fights, pushed the girls in the family around. Once, when he had lost several jobs, he decided to raise rabbits to sell, and Anna and her sisters had to kill and skin them because that's all they ate for many months (my mother could never bear to even look at rabbits as long as I knew her). When Anna turned 16, she went to work at Kreskies drugstore in Hutch, and her father, Henry, came by every Friday to pick up her check, which he cashed himself and spent. He didn't believe girls should go to high school, and my mom was the only girl out of three sisters who did go. Anna got a job to get out of the house, and was married to my father by the time she was in 12th grade.
So, anyway, back to the other story. Anna had a child, me, and we got in the car, an Oldsmobile Sedan, on that warm, gold, breezy summer day. My grandpa, who used to rub his whiskery face against mine hard until I would cry, was going to be waiting for us.
We got to Halstead around noon. My mom and dad and I walked into the nursing home, which was a single story building out in the smack middle of a million corn fields. We sat on those cold steel backed, vinyl seated chairs while my dad went up to the front desk to check in. Well, my grandpa was gone. He'd gone into town on a bus that morning at 10:00. Wasn't coming back until 3:00. We'd traveled three hours and he'd forgotten about us, or, as my dad figured, knew we were on our way but left anyhow. We were there though, and we were staying.
First, my dad and I wandered around the corn fields. I remember standing inside the field, and listening to the sound of the stalks swaying and brushing against each other. My dad asked me if I heard that sound, and I knew which sound he meant. I said yes and he said, that's the sound of the wind. I got bored out there and we walked back to the building. We sat outside and after a bit, a boy joined us. He was truly just a boy, maybe 25 years old. He lived in that place. He started picking through the ash can, taking cigarette butts out and trying to smoke them. My dad walked over to him and began talking to him to shift his attention. The boy's words came out slow and blurry. He went back inside at one point and my mother answered the question I asked her with my eyes like this; "He was in a tractor accident. He lives here now. That's why he talks funny. His brain was damaged"
He came back out. It was only 1:00. One hour had passed. The boy asked me a question. I could hardly understand him. He knew. He asked again, slower still. "Will you go to the farm with me?" My dad stood near me and heard the boy too. I didn't know what to say. My dad spoke, "No young man, she needs to go home with her mom and dad" The boy looked at me, then me dad. He said "I have something.
I give you a present" He walked off into the yard of the Home. He knelt down and looked at the ground for not more than a minute. He picked something up and came back. He handed me a four leaf clover. Really. I looked down at that clover in my hand. I said thank you. I was kind of sad that I couldn't go to the farm with him, because he had asked and I felt bad that he was in this place filled with old folks and with people like my grandpa. I also remember feeling acutely aware that I wanted to go home with my mom and dad. The boy went back inside. My dad crawled around in that yard for the next hour looking for another four leaf clover, which he never found. My grandpa showed up a little after 3:00 and just laughed, but not the kind of laugh that makes you feel good. I carried that four leaf clover home with me, held in the palm of my hand for five hours. I put it on a piece of lined notebook paper, covered it with plastic wrap, and taped up all four sides. I still have it. I carry it in my wallet. It's pretty battered, and the clover is stuck down in the corner. During those times when I'm sure I've left my wallet at the library or at Target or at some bar, I don't worry about the money. I worry about that piece of notebook paper with the clover sunk down in the corner.
My second story is about a cat and a dog so I must now introduce B. I don't really know how the people in my life feel about being blogged about. I never really mention any of them by name, except Jay, and he doesn't read my blog. And of course, my parents, but they're cool with it. So, I mention B by initial, but I think about him with an exclamation point.
Jay and I are taking care of B's cat, Barney. Barney is named Barney because he was found in a barn. It's not really true that just Jay and I are taking care of Barney (aka Mr Barnes, Barnstormer, Barney Miller, Barnabus Collins, Barnaliscious, Barneyshmarney, etc, etc), B is here quite a bit so we're, in fact, all taking care of Barnes. Well, Stan the dog was here first. He was under the impression that HE was king. But now Barney and Stan share the couch. They share the bed. They eat each other's food and drink each other's water. There was never a hiss or a growl or a nip. They LOVE each other. But when Stan had a bath, courtesy of B, I could see it. Barney was right there, perched on the side of the tub. Looking a tad smug. Dipping his head down occaisionally to lap up a little bath water. And thinking;
WHAAAHAAHA I AM KING NOW!
I'm including the following quote (which I posted on my blog a year ago also) for a couple reasons...
Jay had to pick out a quote for his 5th grade class. I let him peruse my quotes, all 57 pages of them. After looking at quotes for half an hour, this is the quote he chose, with no help from me. It made me proud. Secondly, I should read this quote every day because sometimes I forget to keep doing the things that make me come alive. Instead I find (like everyone, I'm sure) myself doing the things that make money, or are easy, or contain no fear.
F**k that!
"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
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Pointless
I am so remiss. Here is a fact...I'm a writer. I love this whole blog thing. But I haven't been very consistent about writing lately. Then, tonight I read my blogfriend Jen's truthful/funny/poignant blog about losing her virginity to a circus clown, and my blogfriend Imez' truthful/funny/poignant blog about falling apart at a wedding, and I thought, holy crap, my posts are really getting shallow.
It's not that I don't have things to write about, I just can't really write about them.
Over the last couple months I have collected the "chicken coop in the backyard" story, the "going to therapy with my son" story, the unbelievable "night in jail" story, and of course, the "I may have found a good man and be ready to break my vow to NEVER write about relationships" story. But for a plethora of reasons, I have chosen not to write about those things. Right now. (Someday you'll be riveted by the mounting suspense of "the morning I realized SHE was a rooster" and the melancholy recounting of "graffiti on the cement walls of the slammer")
So, instead, my blog has been reduced to sound bites about my longing for year round school and the fact I actually have a JOB. Sorry. Hang in there while I push poems and quotes and tidbits about what I had to eat at the FAIR your way.
Oh, okay, I guess I do have one thing. Wait, I don't want to talk about that one either. Damn. I guess it's back to sound bites for a little while longer...
Register to vote. And vote for who I want you to. Thank you.
Regarding the above sentence, yes, I know I end sentences with prepositions. BUT, I found the following in the American Heritage Dictionary so take note all you literati....
"There is nothing inherently bad about ending a sentence with a preposition. Such placement may cause awkwardness by giving undue stress to the preposition or it may provide a weak ending. But often, the final position is the only natural one for the preposition." See asterisk * below
I do not like drawing names for Christmas presents. I want to buy for who I want to buy for. There.
I have enough potted plants. I want cut flowers. Irises. Yes, I know they die eventually. But then I get to be done. I can enjoy them, maybe take a couple pictures. Then they go away.
*My biggest fault is that I think I'm right most of the time. The problem is, I usually am.
(I have the urge to follow that statement with one about gratefulness just to redeem my arrogance but I'm not gonna do it)
I'm reading some good books....A Thousand Names For Joy by Byron Katie, Poemcrazy by Susan Wooldridge, and those teen vampire books by Stephanie Meyers (THAT revelation was a bit embarrassing).
"We walked through night 'til night was a poem"
--Brenda Hillman
(what does she mean by "night" anyway? Is it night as in the time of day, or is it night as in darkness, sorrow, the hidden, the lost?) (Anyway, great quote)
It's not that I don't have things to write about, I just can't really write about them.
Over the last couple months I have collected the "chicken coop in the backyard" story, the "going to therapy with my son" story, the unbelievable "night in jail" story, and of course, the "I may have found a good man and be ready to break my vow to NEVER write about relationships" story. But for a plethora of reasons, I have chosen not to write about those things. Right now. (Someday you'll be riveted by the mounting suspense of "the morning I realized SHE was a rooster" and the melancholy recounting of "graffiti on the cement walls of the slammer")
So, instead, my blog has been reduced to sound bites about my longing for year round school and the fact I actually have a JOB. Sorry. Hang in there while I push poems and quotes and tidbits about what I had to eat at the FAIR your way.
Oh, okay, I guess I do have one thing. Wait, I don't want to talk about that one either. Damn. I guess it's back to sound bites for a little while longer...
Register to vote. And vote for who I want you to. Thank you.
Regarding the above sentence, yes, I know I end sentences with prepositions. BUT, I found the following in the American Heritage Dictionary so take note all you literati....
"There is nothing inherently bad about ending a sentence with a preposition. Such placement may cause awkwardness by giving undue stress to the preposition or it may provide a weak ending. But often, the final position is the only natural one for the preposition." See asterisk * below
I do not like drawing names for Christmas presents. I want to buy for who I want to buy for. There.
I have enough potted plants. I want cut flowers. Irises. Yes, I know they die eventually. But then I get to be done. I can enjoy them, maybe take a couple pictures. Then they go away.
*My biggest fault is that I think I'm right most of the time. The problem is, I usually am.
(I have the urge to follow that statement with one about gratefulness just to redeem my arrogance but I'm not gonna do it)
I'm reading some good books....A Thousand Names For Joy by Byron Katie, Poemcrazy by Susan Wooldridge, and those teen vampire books by Stephanie Meyers (THAT revelation was a bit embarrassing).
"We walked through night 'til night was a poem"
--Brenda Hillman
(what does she mean by "night" anyway? Is it night as in the time of day, or is it night as in darkness, sorrow, the hidden, the lost?) (Anyway, great quote)
Friday, September 5, 2008
Tidbits
Wow, what happened to August?! I was going to write about it this morning but I WAS WORKING AT MY NEW JOB. Oh, fine, I was working for two hours. I suppose that anyone who listens to me talk about this wants to stick a sock in my mouth. Yes, I have a new job. A job in an office. At a desk. Under florescent lights. I file and write data on forms. I try and figure out escrows. I look up addresses on the MLS. I work for a Realtor. I cannot say anything bad about this. I was offered the job. I took it. Twenty hours a week. The bosses talk about getting me my real estate license. Sweet. Not. Okay, actually, it's just not me. I don't know what direction I'm going on this, only that I've figured out ONE MORE THING I do not want to be.
Back to August. My son went back to school. Whooo-Who! I love my boy but I would have a nervous breakdown if the school week was only three days long. I'm all for year round school, and if I had the time you'd probably see me outside the grocery store armed with a petition on a clipboard.
The fair. We didn't enter a darn thing this year. We went and ate fair food. Cotton candy. Funnel cakes. Chicken on a stick. Played the games. For the first time, Jay lost more than he won. That was good. It's scary when your child's experiences with gambling turn out well. We didn't do any rides (after the tilt-a-whirl last year I kinda gave that up) but we did check out the animals.
On relationships; here's one of my favorite quotes;
"I don't think it's the other person's responsibility to make you whole. It's the other person's responsibility to make you laugh, to give you a dance now and then, to read the newspaper and tell you about things you don't have time to read about, to introduce you to music you don't know...to fight fair, to be good in bed, to say, 'come on, let's go have an adventure' when you've become a little bit of a stick in the mud."
--Susan Sarandon
I've had that quote on my fridge for twelve years and never met anyone that I thought could do that. Until now.
Jay asked me this question tonight....
Does the world have it's own birthday?
Tidbits. Dim sum. Tasty morsels. I love how that can relate to food or, or, or...ANYTHING! Little yummy pieces. Tidbits and dim sum are just other ways to say tasty morsels. In the thesaurus (I LOVE the thesaurus) it lists these others; nibbly, goody, and delicacies. I love words. I think Tasty Morsels would be a great name for a book of poetry. Haiku. Oh, and get this; I'm not teaching poetry this semester. First semester in YEARS. I didn't have enough students. Instead I'm working in an office. Under fluorescent lights.
Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
--Anne Sexton
Back to August. My son went back to school. Whooo-Who! I love my boy but I would have a nervous breakdown if the school week was only three days long. I'm all for year round school, and if I had the time you'd probably see me outside the grocery store armed with a petition on a clipboard.
The fair. We didn't enter a darn thing this year. We went and ate fair food. Cotton candy. Funnel cakes. Chicken on a stick. Played the games. For the first time, Jay lost more than he won. That was good. It's scary when your child's experiences with gambling turn out well. We didn't do any rides (after the tilt-a-whirl last year I kinda gave that up) but we did check out the animals.
On relationships; here's one of my favorite quotes;
"I don't think it's the other person's responsibility to make you whole. It's the other person's responsibility to make you laugh, to give you a dance now and then, to read the newspaper and tell you about things you don't have time to read about, to introduce you to music you don't know...to fight fair, to be good in bed, to say, 'come on, let's go have an adventure' when you've become a little bit of a stick in the mud."
--Susan Sarandon
I've had that quote on my fridge for twelve years and never met anyone that I thought could do that. Until now.
Jay asked me this question tonight....
Does the world have it's own birthday?
Tidbits. Dim sum. Tasty morsels. I love how that can relate to food or, or, or...ANYTHING! Little yummy pieces. Tidbits and dim sum are just other ways to say tasty morsels. In the thesaurus (I LOVE the thesaurus) it lists these others; nibbly, goody, and delicacies. I love words. I think Tasty Morsels would be a great name for a book of poetry. Haiku. Oh, and get this; I'm not teaching poetry this semester. First semester in YEARS. I didn't have enough students. Instead I'm working in an office. Under fluorescent lights.
Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
--Anne Sexton
Monday, August 18, 2008
Stream/River
I like stream-of-consciousness-writing. However, I usually revise what I blog. Spell check, not ending sentences with prepositions, not too much cussing, keeping an eye on anything self-indulgent. I don't want to do that right now (except maybe the spell checking). I just want to write. 
I think a lot about how hard it is at times to be human. How we talk and interact and try to figure it all out. And how, most of the time it seems like either not enough gets said, or too much, but not often the right amount (that's kind of like Goldilocks). Everything becomes a contradiction. I don't think I suffer from guilt, and then I find myself wondering if god or karma or the universe wants to put me in my place or reward me. And I wish I knew which thing I deserved; to be put in my place or rewarded.
I think about the people I know, some of you will read this, and I feel so inadequate when I want to call or drive there or e-mail and I don't. And then, I go to the place of thinking about how busy we all are, and how in the hell could I keep in touch with everyone I want to anyway. And even if I did call, would you be too busy to talk? But I want to. I want to sit down and just talk. I think about the limited time we have here, and how I want to wring everything out of it, and then how, actually, I just want to sit on the couch with a good man, and watch movie after movie. Or how I just want to sit at the kitchen table, drinking passion fruit tea and reading, and listen to my son out in the yard, driving nail after nail into the wall of the fort he's building. 
I think about how I don't feel like I have enough time in the day to do what I need to do. And then, knowing that, I spend an hour on the computer looking up funny videos and rereading e-mail. I tell you, I have a blog, a myspace, and then, a week ago, I signed up for facebook! Holy crap. I got on it, and I immediately had a dozen friends. Some of them were people I never talk to but miss. Their bulletins told me they were doing things like "drinking juice right now" or "tired from a fabulous vacation". I love some of these people, but I couldn't do it. 
I had to delete my facebook account because I could just visualize myself starting to think it was important to keep up with everyone, when all they were really doing was "wanting to drink juice," "drinking juice right now," or "just finished my juice". I think about getting a job and can only sit and drool. I have no real talent and I'm going to end up in a cubicle for 6.50 an hour. This is negative thinking, I know. My friend, Kate, says, "anticipate good". I love that. The thing is, I go back and forth. I'm scared and then I'm brave, I'm so sure of myself and then I think I'm totally incapable of anything. Sometimes if I'm in a group of people, I think, 
"I have no idea what these people are talking about. What day did I miss at school where we learned this stuff?" And then sometimes, I'm going on about some drivel like wine facts and I realize someone else is thinking that themselves. I suppose it's all just the human condition, and I think about it too much.
The thing that makes it all bearable is how everyone goes through it. There is this quote (of course) that I may have put in before but I love it. It's "Life isn't fair for anyone. That's what makes it fair for everyone". I think about how the grass in my front yard came back to life and seems all lush and beautiful, when I never thought it would. I think about the universe, and how sometimes I think my dad still talks to me.
He always said that he wished he could have gone up in a spaceship and seen the earth from way up there. Maybe he got to do that. I think about how I'm raising this child, and no one ever gives me a report card on how I'm doing. I have a neurosis for tying all the strings together at the end of my writing....but not this time. Here's a few quotes I like, that have no relevance to either this post or each other.....
If we listened to our intellect, we'd never have a love
affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go into
business, because we'd be cynical. Well, that's nonsense.
You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your
wings on the way down.
--Ray Bradbury
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your
riches, but to reveal to him his own."
Benjamin Disraeli
"I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds around my neck."
Emma Goldman
God gives every bird a worm, but he does not throw it
into the nest.
--Swedish Proverb
AND A POEM.......
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
~ Rumi ~
I think a lot about how hard it is at times to be human. How we talk and interact and try to figure it all out. And how, most of the time it seems like either not enough gets said, or too much, but not often the right amount (that's kind of like Goldilocks). Everything becomes a contradiction. I don't think I suffer from guilt, and then I find myself wondering if god or karma or the universe wants to put me in my place or reward me. And I wish I knew which thing I deserved; to be put in my place or rewarded. 
I think about the people I know, some of you will read this, and I feel so inadequate when I want to call or drive there or e-mail and I don't. And then, I go to the place of thinking about how busy we all are, and how in the hell could I keep in touch with everyone I want to anyway. And even if I did call, would you be too busy to talk? But I want to. I want to sit down and just talk. I think about the limited time we have here, and how I want to wring everything out of it, and then how, actually, I just want to sit on the couch with a good man, and watch movie after movie. Or how I just want to sit at the kitchen table, drinking passion fruit tea and reading, and listen to my son out in the yard, driving nail after nail into the wall of the fort he's building. 
I think about how I don't feel like I have enough time in the day to do what I need to do. And then, knowing that, I spend an hour on the computer looking up funny videos and rereading e-mail. I tell you, I have a blog, a myspace, and then, a week ago, I signed up for facebook! Holy crap. I got on it, and I immediately had a dozen friends. Some of them were people I never talk to but miss. Their bulletins told me they were doing things like "drinking juice right now" or "tired from a fabulous vacation". I love some of these people, but I couldn't do it. 
I had to delete my facebook account because I could just visualize myself starting to think it was important to keep up with everyone, when all they were really doing was "wanting to drink juice," "drinking juice right now," or "just finished my juice". I think about getting a job and can only sit and drool. I have no real talent and I'm going to end up in a cubicle for 6.50 an hour. This is negative thinking, I know. My friend, Kate, says, "anticipate good". I love that. The thing is, I go back and forth. I'm scared and then I'm brave, I'm so sure of myself and then I think I'm totally incapable of anything. Sometimes if I'm in a group of people, I think, 
"I have no idea what these people are talking about. What day did I miss at school where we learned this stuff?" And then sometimes, I'm going on about some drivel like wine facts and I realize someone else is thinking that themselves. I suppose it's all just the human condition, and I think about it too much.
The thing that makes it all bearable is how everyone goes through it. There is this quote (of course) that I may have put in before but I love it. It's "Life isn't fair for anyone. That's what makes it fair for everyone". I think about how the grass in my front yard came back to life and seems all lush and beautiful, when I never thought it would. I think about the universe, and how sometimes I think my dad still talks to me.
He always said that he wished he could have gone up in a spaceship and seen the earth from way up there. Maybe he got to do that. I think about how I'm raising this child, and no one ever gives me a report card on how I'm doing. I have a neurosis for tying all the strings together at the end of my writing....but not this time. Here's a few quotes I like, that have no relevance to either this post or each other..... If we listened to our intellect, we'd never have a love
affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go into
business, because we'd be cynical. Well, that's nonsense.
You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your
wings on the way down.
--Ray Bradbury
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your
riches, but to reveal to him his own."
Benjamin Disraeli
"I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds around my neck."
Emma Goldman
God gives every bird a worm, but he does not throw it
into the nest.
--Swedish Proverb
AND A POEM.......
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
~ Rumi ~
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Miracles vs. Crap
"To be alive, to be able to see, to walk...it's all a miracle. I have
adopted the technique of living life from miracle to miracle."
Arthur Rubinstein
Well, the quote comes first today. I guess, in a way, I'm feeling a bit of Thanksgiving in August. Rough week in some ways. Got through it (still loving the fragment). I'd like to tell you a story but I can't think of a good one right now. Oh wait...maybe one.
When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the dark. I was very attached to my parents and at about 10:00 or 11:00 pm, if I had woken up, I would pad into their room and they would be sleeping. Some nights, I would just lie down on the floor at the end of their bed and cover up with a blanket. Some nights, I would walk to the side of the bed where my dad slept. I would tap him lightly on the shoulder as he slept, and when he woke, I'd say, "wanna get a drink of water"? and he would get up. We would walk down the hall and into the kitchen and he would open the fridge door. There was always a water jug stashed in the door and I would take it, unscrew the lid, and take a big swig. I'd hand it to him and he'd take a swig and then we'd put the jug away and walk back down the hall. No chatting. He would veer off to their room and I would go back to bed and sleep until morning. The thing is, he never one time said "no" to my request. He always got up with me and walked into the kitchen. The patience and care involved in that simple act has stayed with me.
Now, as an adult, when bad stuff happens, I think those childhood blessings helped make me strong enough to deal with some of the shit in life (of course, the therapy helps too).
If I could thank everyone wonderful in my life, it would take a hundred pages, if I could cuss out everyone who has been horrible to me, I could do it in a paragraph. That was a good realization this week. Life seems to be a series of miracles, interspersed with an occasional hefty dose of crap. I'm very aware of both.
adopted the technique of living life from miracle to miracle."
Arthur Rubinstein
Well, the quote comes first today. I guess, in a way, I'm feeling a bit of Thanksgiving in August. Rough week in some ways. Got through it (still loving the fragment). I'd like to tell you a story but I can't think of a good one right now. Oh wait...maybe one.
When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the dark. I was very attached to my parents and at about 10:00 or 11:00 pm, if I had woken up, I would pad into their room and they would be sleeping. Some nights, I would just lie down on the floor at the end of their bed and cover up with a blanket. Some nights, I would walk to the side of the bed where my dad slept. I would tap him lightly on the shoulder as he slept, and when he woke, I'd say, "wanna get a drink of water"? and he would get up. We would walk down the hall and into the kitchen and he would open the fridge door. There was always a water jug stashed in the door and I would take it, unscrew the lid, and take a big swig. I'd hand it to him and he'd take a swig and then we'd put the jug away and walk back down the hall. No chatting. He would veer off to their room and I would go back to bed and sleep until morning. The thing is, he never one time said "no" to my request. He always got up with me and walked into the kitchen. The patience and care involved in that simple act has stayed with me.
Now, as an adult, when bad stuff happens, I think those childhood blessings helped make me strong enough to deal with some of the shit in life (of course, the therapy helps too).
If I could thank everyone wonderful in my life, it would take a hundred pages, if I could cuss out everyone who has been horrible to me, I could do it in a paragraph. That was a good realization this week. Life seems to be a series of miracles, interspersed with an occasional hefty dose of crap. I'm very aware of both.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Bits
I have lost my wine glass. It's just not that big of a house. Or yard. I had it half an hour ago. I was pulling dandelions, making zucchini bread, doing dishes, watering the lawn....and somewhere in all of that I set my wine down and forgot where. Then, I asked my son, "Have you seen my glass of wine, I can't find it"? As soon as I said those words I thought, that's not the thing to ask your ten year old. Oh well. I'll probably find it in the yard tomorrow, miscellaneous bugs crawling about, or more likely, dead from alcohol poisoning. You know what it means when you misplace your wine? Go to the cabinet and get a new glass :)
We found a fuzzy caterpillar. Weeks ago. (I'm liking fragments tonight) We put it in a jar (I said "three days, and if it's not a cocoon, we're letting it go"). In a day we had a cocoon. I kept it inside the house on the counter. 
Waited. Went to Kansas. Came back. Still, a cocoon. Then, one morning, there it was, a speckled moth. The cocoon was so cool. It was as if that caterpillar had plucked all the fuzzy fur off it's own back and made the cocoon with it. I love nature. Of course, we were hoping for a Monarch butterfly.
But the miracle's the same anyway, I guess.
Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 91. I met some old guys (I say that with the greatest affection possible) in Kansas and a couple of them were in their nineties. On one hand, it could have been a sad thing, missing my dad, feeling that whole, "it's just not fair that he's not here" thing. But it was actually pretty cool seeing some men in their nineties that were still hanging out, sipping coffee at the drug store and telling stories. Some of them I met going into stores where they worked! Yes, working and smiling at ninety-one. I'm happy some of them made it. I like that there are those guys out there telling me the stories that my dad would be telling me. I like to imagine him there. That's why I made the zucchini bread. For him on his birthday. Happy birthday dad.
On being a mom. The deal is, I love my son. The deal is, also, I cannot wait for school to start. I do not get those mothers who want to spend actual TIME with their kids DOING CRAFTS. I will gladly spend time with Jay while we drive around town doing errands and even gardening together out in the yard. But PLAYING?! He can play during recess. I'm counting down the days (18) until he starts fifth grade.
I really love this next quote. I try to do these things, and sometimes I'm not successful. But I think if I just remember this quote, I'll improve.
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
We found a fuzzy caterpillar. Weeks ago. (I'm liking fragments tonight) We put it in a jar (I said "three days, and if it's not a cocoon, we're letting it go"). In a day we had a cocoon. I kept it inside the house on the counter. 
Waited. Went to Kansas. Came back. Still, a cocoon. Then, one morning, there it was, a speckled moth. The cocoon was so cool. It was as if that caterpillar had plucked all the fuzzy fur off it's own back and made the cocoon with it. I love nature. Of course, we were hoping for a Monarch butterfly.
But the miracle's the same anyway, I guess.Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 91. I met some old guys (I say that with the greatest affection possible) in Kansas and a couple of them were in their nineties. On one hand, it could have been a sad thing, missing my dad, feeling that whole, "it's just not fair that he's not here" thing. But it was actually pretty cool seeing some men in their nineties that were still hanging out, sipping coffee at the drug store and telling stories. Some of them I met going into stores where they worked! Yes, working and smiling at ninety-one. I'm happy some of them made it. I like that there are those guys out there telling me the stories that my dad would be telling me. I like to imagine him there. That's why I made the zucchini bread. For him on his birthday. Happy birthday dad.
On being a mom. The deal is, I love my son. The deal is, also, I cannot wait for school to start. I do not get those mothers who want to spend actual TIME with their kids DOING CRAFTS. I will gladly spend time with Jay while we drive around town doing errands and even gardening together out in the yard. But PLAYING?! He can play during recess. I'm counting down the days (18) until he starts fifth grade.
I really love this next quote. I try to do these things, and sometimes I'm not successful. But I think if I just remember this quote, I'll improve.
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
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I Love To Dance (Metaphoricly)
I have ALL new music, girlfriend! It's taken me forever to pick it all out (note my blog time). So I amused myself by checking out stranger's myspace pages and found this excellent "Who I'd like to meet" which continues...."People who have aspirations and convictions, ethics and thoughtfulness, but aren't afraid to fuck up." I'd like to meet those people too. And, I cannot seem to spell metaphoric-ly and I'm too darn tired to look it up. Plus, I just love to dance; metaphoric-ly, physically, in the living room, in my mind, in the car. Every way possible. It just seemed like an appropriate title, what with the new music and all. Okay, I'm going to bed now.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Messages
Well, I have a couple stories. The first one, as happens quite frequently, is about my mother. Jay and I were in an antique store in Hutchinson, Kansas. We had browsed for a bit and Jay found a mini (1"x2") licence plate from the fifties that he wanted to spend his money on (Don't ask me). As he was making his purchase, I looked down to my left and saw this beautiful spinach-leaf-green yearbook. I thumbed through it, passing time and looking at people whose lives were just beginning. 
I was thinking about how between then and now, they had had families, or not, fallen in love, or not, been sick, recovered or not, gone from teenagers to adults to the elderly, and then, I saw my mom. There she was, 10th grade, a picture I'd never seen before but most definitely my mom. I found her name. I knew she had not ever owned that yearbook. I think she got the one where she's a Senior but her family would have been too poor, and her dad too stingy, to have bought a yearbook when she was in 10th grade. Her father didn't believe girls should even go to high school. There she was. I thought I was going to weep. I've been so evolved and together through the memorials and the dying, and then when I saw her 16 year old self, I was so giddy-happy and heartbroken at the same time. I showed everyone in the store. "Look, this is my mom. She's here in this book" Yeah, I bought the book.
Then, we headed to another antique store. We were in the business of looking for a tractor seat. Not the heavy, cast iron variety but the light, pressed steel version. Jay and my friend, Barry, built a go cart that needs a solid seat and we thought a tractor seat would be perfect. So, we mosey into this place and ask the old fella behind the counter if he has any tractor seats laying around. Well, no sir, he does not, BUT he calls most of the other antique stores in Hutch trying to find us one (THAT is Kansas). As we're getting ready to walk out the door and head to the next place (one with a tractor seat!) he calls over to Jay, "Son, see this penny? If you keep it till you're as old as I am, It'll be worth something" and he hands Jay a wheat back penny. The thing is, my dad and I used to collect wheat back pennies. When I find one, I always think it's my dad saying hi (I've found two in four years...each one in a parking lot right outside my car door).
I love those old fellas. They still call women, "gals", and they can sit at a table at Frase Drug Store and drink coffee, and gab all day. They're very respectful and kind and friendly, and as we'd leave wherever we were,(after chatting them up for half an hour) they would say the same thing to Jay. Either, "Nice to meet you, son" or "Now take care of your mother."
One more thing. See this bag? It's dried banana chips, no added sugar.
They do not even taste like cardboard, they taste like rubbing alcohol. I am trying very hard to be healthy. I have started taking vitamins again. I do not always drive up and down the parking lot at the grocery store until I find a close parking space, I actually walk from 12 cars down (sometimes). But I cannot eat these strange banana things. I obviously want healthy, high fiber, vitamin filled food that tastes like chocolate. Damn.
I was thinking about how between then and now, they had had families, or not, fallen in love, or not, been sick, recovered or not, gone from teenagers to adults to the elderly, and then, I saw my mom. There she was, 10th grade, a picture I'd never seen before but most definitely my mom. I found her name. I knew she had not ever owned that yearbook. I think she got the one where she's a Senior but her family would have been too poor, and her dad too stingy, to have bought a yearbook when she was in 10th grade. Her father didn't believe girls should even go to high school. There she was. I thought I was going to weep. I've been so evolved and together through the memorials and the dying, and then when I saw her 16 year old self, I was so giddy-happy and heartbroken at the same time. I showed everyone in the store. "Look, this is my mom. She's here in this book" Yeah, I bought the book.Then, we headed to another antique store. We were in the business of looking for a tractor seat. Not the heavy, cast iron variety but the light, pressed steel version. Jay and my friend, Barry, built a go cart that needs a solid seat and we thought a tractor seat would be perfect. So, we mosey into this place and ask the old fella behind the counter if he has any tractor seats laying around. Well, no sir, he does not, BUT he calls most of the other antique stores in Hutch trying to find us one (THAT is Kansas). As we're getting ready to walk out the door and head to the next place (one with a tractor seat!) he calls over to Jay, "Son, see this penny? If you keep it till you're as old as I am, It'll be worth something" and he hands Jay a wheat back penny. The thing is, my dad and I used to collect wheat back pennies. When I find one, I always think it's my dad saying hi (I've found two in four years...each one in a parking lot right outside my car door).
I love those old fellas. They still call women, "gals", and they can sit at a table at Frase Drug Store and drink coffee, and gab all day. They're very respectful and kind and friendly, and as we'd leave wherever we were,(after chatting them up for half an hour) they would say the same thing to Jay. Either, "Nice to meet you, son" or "Now take care of your mother."
One more thing. See this bag? It's dried banana chips, no added sugar.
They do not even taste like cardboard, they taste like rubbing alcohol. I am trying very hard to be healthy. I have started taking vitamins again. I do not always drive up and down the parking lot at the grocery store until I find a close parking space, I actually walk from 12 cars down (sometimes). But I cannot eat these strange banana things. I obviously want healthy, high fiber, vitamin filled food that tastes like chocolate. Damn.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Kansas Redux
I never blog anymore. I will again someday. It's just a phase. Oh yeah, and I'm on vacation and HAVE NO INTERNET ACCESS. It's weird. I had no idea I was so infatuated by being on-line. I like surfing the Internet. It makes me laugh to watch "trampoline accidents" on youtube. I want to e-mail people and sit for an hour writing my blog. Too bad for me! Since I've been back in Kansas (one week today) I get 30 minute bits of time, in book stores and coffee shops, to check in. So, since my half hour is almost up I'm going to put on a few pictures, make a few more inane comments and then go fishing.
The train ride was wonderful. If you have never taken a train trip, get on it!! We slept good (in coach seats) and played games and read and ate. It's cheaper than air and took us way less time than driving.
I have a bit of garden grief.
My brother in Salina has a beautiful garden. But, get this...it's a community garden. It's in the country and for fifteen dollars (FIFTEEN DOLLARS. TOTAL) he gets a pretty big garden plot, free water, and they till it up for him at the beginning of the year. It's made me miss having a garden and watching all the shoots poke up out of the ground, the flowers turn into melons or squash. Next year.
This year, with the move, the Kansas deal, the late start, it just made more sense to take a year off. But I miss it.
Everything is so green here. Jay and I are headed out to East Lake near Newton to cast out for fish for a few hours after this. Today we already painted the pink bedroom and had someone come out for an estimate on the guttering. I'm getting things done.
My high school reunion was Saturday night. It was really fun. I don't keep in touch with many people who I've known since kindergarten but I saw a few there on Saturday. It's funny, I haven't seen them since the last reunion but it seemed so comfortable and familiar. I really like those people....and some of them were in totally different cliques than I was, but when we became adults, a lot of that separation just melted away. We laughed and talked and caught up and I was really glad I went.
This last photo is me driving a tractor pulling a load of kids. Okay, it's a mower, not a tractor. But I could drive a tractor if I had to. It's a requirement of the State of Kansas that if you own a home, you must know how to drive a tractor. Just in case.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Numbers
Getting ready to head back to Kansas (yeah, already) in a week. We're taking the train. Whoo-who! Here are the top 10 reasons why I like Kansas (in random order)...
1. My house there is very old and the floors tilt.
2. Scads of really nice people.
3. There is this heartbreaking feeling of loneliness when you look out
on those wheat fields going on forever.
4. The smell of the thunderstorms.
5. I have family there.
6. Rivers and streams and ponds and lakes....and green everywhere.
7. I have stories in my head from that place, and when I'm there,
I can see them so much more clearly.
8. Brick streets
9. Chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.
10.The memories of my mom are all ones when she didn't have Alzheimer's yet. I see
her as she was in Kansas. When I think about her in Flagstaff, I have trouble
seeing her healthy, when I'm in Kansas, I ONLY see her as healthy.
Then, after a bit, we'll be coming back to Flagstaff. On the train again, where we'll play farkle and dominoes and eat snacks and watch the scenery. And here's the top 10 reasons why we're going to come back.....
1. No tornadoes, no mosquitoes, no humidity.
2. Scads of really nice people.
3. My house here is pretty new, it's perfect for parties, and it's pretty darn clean (most, okay, SOME of the time).
4. My friends are cool.
5. Stanley.
6. This is where I'm registered to vote.
7. The smell of the monsoons.
8. What a stellar place to raise a child.
9. When I think about my parents, this is the last house they were physically in with me...my dad sat on this couch in this room, relaxed on this back porch, and raked this front yard. It's a good set of memories.
10.There are so many things here filled with hope.
The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to
count our blessings.
--Eric Hoffer (1902-1983) American writer & philosopher
1. My house there is very old and the floors tilt.
2. Scads of really nice people.
3. There is this heartbreaking feeling of loneliness when you look out
on those wheat fields going on forever.
4. The smell of the thunderstorms.
5. I have family there.
6. Rivers and streams and ponds and lakes....and green everywhere.
7. I have stories in my head from that place, and when I'm there,
I can see them so much more clearly.
8. Brick streets
9. Chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes.
10.The memories of my mom are all ones when she didn't have Alzheimer's yet. I see
her as she was in Kansas. When I think about her in Flagstaff, I have trouble
seeing her healthy, when I'm in Kansas, I ONLY see her as healthy.
Then, after a bit, we'll be coming back to Flagstaff. On the train again, where we'll play farkle and dominoes and eat snacks and watch the scenery. And here's the top 10 reasons why we're going to come back.....
1. No tornadoes, no mosquitoes, no humidity.
2. Scads of really nice people.
3. My house here is pretty new, it's perfect for parties, and it's pretty darn clean (most, okay, SOME of the time).
4. My friends are cool.
5. Stanley.
6. This is where I'm registered to vote.
7. The smell of the monsoons.
8. What a stellar place to raise a child.
9. When I think about my parents, this is the last house they were physically in with me...my dad sat on this couch in this room, relaxed on this back porch, and raked this front yard. It's a good set of memories.
10.There are so many things here filled with hope.
The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to
count our blessings.
--Eric Hoffer (1902-1983) American writer & philosopher
Monday, June 23, 2008
Virtual Tour of Newton (kind of)
Okay. I try really hard not to ever offend anyone on this blog. I even hold back from trashy language and stories about table dancing. But, if you are from Dalhart, Texas, I'm just so sorry. Please understand this is just an observation and not a judgement. That town STINKS. Jay and I stayed there on our way back home. We were so freaked out we didn't even have dinner. We just barricaded ourselves in the hotel room and pulled the sheet over our head. The swimming pool was green. The front desk clerk was really spooky. I've seen enough scary movies to be able to envision a trap door opening in the bathroom and three men with chain saws and handcuffs creeping into our room. I had to pretend, for the sake of my child, that it was all fine and normal. I just kept saying, It could be a lot worse, while tears seeped out of his eyes. I'm afraid I've turned him into an elitist who needs fine hotels with fluffy robes and room service. About the stinky part - there are stockyards everywhere, and they smell so bad. 
I may have also turned my child into a vegetarian. He said, What are all those cows out there for? And I said, That's what we buy in the grocery store when we want a good juicy hamburger....those cows put through a meat grinder. The look on his face, which I see more and more these days, said to me that I probably gave him too much information.
We are back in Flagstaff now. I drove 2,870 miles. I am so flipping tired. But we had so much fun and it was such a great trip. We did so much to the new house; some of it fun, some just putting out fires. The fleas were horrible.
I've never experienced that before. It's such a weird psychological thing. I immediately felt gross and dirty. I was FREAKED out. But, being in Newton, when I called the pest control guy, he said, "I'll be out there in about ten minutes (yes, TEN MINUTES)" and then he was. And the fleas were all gone within 2 hours. Then, the next day when I did a load of laundry, the washer drain pipe just SPEWED water everywhere when the rinse cycle came on. 
Called the plumber and HE said, "Okay, I'll get out there in a few minutes" and he was there in a few minutes. Weird. So, things feel fixed and okay. The house is all furnished and I am shopping garage sales for a porch swing. 
There is this beautiful friendliness thing in some parts of the Midwest. Newton is like that. There are a bizillion grandmas and grandpas back there and they all want to talk. So does every bank teller and store clerk. And it's so genuine. They truly want to know what you think and where you're from and how you like the Dillon's store down the street.
Here's a story about the trailer.....When we got all the furniture unloaded, I just wanted that trailer off the car. It bumped around and made a ton of noise. Jay and I drove to the only U-Haul place open on Sunday and went in. It was a huge room in an old (1940"s) strip mall. Really run down. Stuff (junk) everywhere. Parts of threshing machines, cans and jars of screws and nuts and bolts. There was a white haired man sitting at an ancient, dark brown office desk on the phone. There was an old fan on the floor, set at high, that was held together with duct tape and wire. I looked around and on his bulletin board was one thing; a paper certificate that said "Robert Unrue has been a member of the Lion's Club for 60 years." It was very official looking. On the wall were tacked two pictures from when he was a pilot in World War Two. He got off the phone, talked to us and got all the info necessary. Told us he's 88 years old and was born in the house behind this shop. I mentioned his certificate and the pictures and he really smiled. It was obvious that he was truly very proud of his commitments. He directed us to drive the car across the street to a grassy lot that had a couple more U-Hauls on it, go around the second tree, down through that shallow gully, and wait. I thought, who's he gonna have take the trailer off? We drove over, looked back, and there he was, with a bright red walker, making his way slowly across the street and over to us. He disconnected the wires and chains, lifted the tongue of the trailer up and set it on the grass, and we were free to go. Good, proud, hard-working people. Salt of the earth stuff.
I have to admit, when I first walked in the house, I thought "What the F**K did I do? I mean, there are cracks in a few of the walls and the sills could use some sanding. The porch needs to be painted and a couple of the windows have a difficult time opening. There's a root cellar in the back yard that needs a sump pump and a new roof to make it tornado proof and dry. So, there's work to be done.
But being there for days, settling in, meeting people and listening to the thunderstorms....I think it was one of the best decisions I've made, albeit a bit impulsive. I love fixing things. It makes me think of my dad. And everything is so green and there are creeks and ponds and streams all over the place. Here is a picture of the downtown and it is beautiful. There is a great coffee shop and a cool bookstore.
There is a health food store that is wonderful and not expensive. Antique stores and a brick, old, corner tavern. It's a growing town, not a dying one. This grain elevator is three blocks from my house. The train station is four blocks away. My brother lives an hour to the north. And my parent's grave is thirty minutes from my house. I made another good decision...man, I hope this is a pattern.
Follow your bliss. - Joseph Campbell
I may have also turned my child into a vegetarian. He said, What are all those cows out there for? And I said, That's what we buy in the grocery store when we want a good juicy hamburger....those cows put through a meat grinder. The look on his face, which I see more and more these days, said to me that I probably gave him too much information. 
We are back in Flagstaff now. I drove 2,870 miles. I am so flipping tired. But we had so much fun and it was such a great trip. We did so much to the new house; some of it fun, some just putting out fires. The fleas were horrible.
I've never experienced that before. It's such a weird psychological thing. I immediately felt gross and dirty. I was FREAKED out. But, being in Newton, when I called the pest control guy, he said, "I'll be out there in about ten minutes (yes, TEN MINUTES)" and then he was. And the fleas were all gone within 2 hours. Then, the next day when I did a load of laundry, the washer drain pipe just SPEWED water everywhere when the rinse cycle came on. 
Called the plumber and HE said, "Okay, I'll get out there in a few minutes" and he was there in a few minutes. Weird. So, things feel fixed and okay. The house is all furnished and I am shopping garage sales for a porch swing. 
There is this beautiful friendliness thing in some parts of the Midwest. Newton is like that. There are a bizillion grandmas and grandpas back there and they all want to talk. So does every bank teller and store clerk. And it's so genuine. They truly want to know what you think and where you're from and how you like the Dillon's store down the street. Here's a story about the trailer.....When we got all the furniture unloaded, I just wanted that trailer off the car. It bumped around and made a ton of noise. Jay and I drove to the only U-Haul place open on Sunday and went in. It was a huge room in an old (1940"s) strip mall. Really run down. Stuff (junk) everywhere. Parts of threshing machines, cans and jars of screws and nuts and bolts. There was a white haired man sitting at an ancient, dark brown office desk on the phone. There was an old fan on the floor, set at high, that was held together with duct tape and wire. I looked around and on his bulletin board was one thing; a paper certificate that said "Robert Unrue has been a member of the Lion's Club for 60 years." It was very official looking. On the wall were tacked two pictures from when he was a pilot in World War Two. He got off the phone, talked to us and got all the info necessary. Told us he's 88 years old and was born in the house behind this shop. I mentioned his certificate and the pictures and he really smiled. It was obvious that he was truly very proud of his commitments. He directed us to drive the car across the street to a grassy lot that had a couple more U-Hauls on it, go around the second tree, down through that shallow gully, and wait. I thought, who's he gonna have take the trailer off? We drove over, looked back, and there he was, with a bright red walker, making his way slowly across the street and over to us. He disconnected the wires and chains, lifted the tongue of the trailer up and set it on the grass, and we were free to go. Good, proud, hard-working people. Salt of the earth stuff.
I have to admit, when I first walked in the house, I thought "What the F**K did I do? I mean, there are cracks in a few of the walls and the sills could use some sanding. The porch needs to be painted and a couple of the windows have a difficult time opening. There's a root cellar in the back yard that needs a sump pump and a new roof to make it tornado proof and dry. So, there's work to be done.
But being there for days, settling in, meeting people and listening to the thunderstorms....I think it was one of the best decisions I've made, albeit a bit impulsive. I love fixing things. It makes me think of my dad. And everything is so green and there are creeks and ponds and streams all over the place. Here is a picture of the downtown and it is beautiful. There is a great coffee shop and a cool bookstore.
There is a health food store that is wonderful and not expensive. Antique stores and a brick, old, corner tavern. It's a growing town, not a dying one. This grain elevator is three blocks from my house. The train station is four blocks away. My brother lives an hour to the north. And my parent's grave is thirty minutes from my house. I made another good decision...man, I hope this is a pattern.Follow your bliss. - Joseph Campbell
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Newton
We're at Mokas. Mokas is a small coffee shop on Main Street in Newton. They have free wireless!!! Jay is eating cinnamon french toast sticks, I just had a blueberry cream cheese coffee cake and a latte. I have a lot of catching up to do...
First, I have no Internet service at my new house. It seemed silly to pay 30$ a month
when I'm only here a few weeks a year. So I'm unable to just sit on the futon at night and write and e-mail and blog.
The trip so far.....
Last blog we were in Amarillo. We left the next morning and drove about 6 hours into
Newton. I am so not going to bore you with the minutia of my trip, so suffice it to say that we made it to Newton, unloaded and drove to Salina where my brother lives and where there were tables and chairs, a couch and a washer and dryer to load up to drive back to Newton (thank you!!).
Two words - River Festival I usually do not put in a series of pictures, but I think the pictures say so much. The festival was four days of incredible art, bands and community. Salina has a population of about 48,000 but they have a daily turnout to this festival of at least 10,000 people. We ended up staying Salina for two days so we could go to the festival (and sleep). A few words about the pictures....that butterfly is painted on the grass!
And that's a picnic table in the background. It's on the bank of the river.
The ants are wire sculptures. Every bridge had some sort of art attached or surrounding it. There were poetry walls, tons of kids activities and two big stages. There were bands and dancers and poets and story-tellers.
The art, food, and crafts were all juried and were awesome. I had one of the best music experiences I ever had; a band called Black Violin. They are two guys, classically trained violinists, playing in a more hip-hop/rock/R&B style. They were incredible. And here's Jay with a big spider.
The next two pictures are more random art; a string of fish on the river and a grass snake on the bank. I was just really impressed with the caliber of the art and music and food. We had alligator on a stick!! So, that was a fun and unexpected detour.
We got to Newton on Sunday and unloaded that day. Monday we traveled to a farm house in Sedgewick and bought a fifty dollar stove, we cleaned, we made Walmart runs for a toaster and a shower curtain and a set of tools. Jay vacuumed and did dishes.
Tuesday (today) we woke up to fleas (YUCK) but just a few and I already had the pest guy come out and KILL them all. (Me, on the phone, "I need you to come out NOW, or I need to call someone else because I am FREAKING out) We are headed to go get a refrigerator and then my friend, Kristy from Topeka is coming in to see us.
I have so much more to write about, and pictures of the house and Main Street and all the beautiful green trees everywhere but, Jay apparently does not want to sit in a coffee shop for two hours. So before we have to step outside to settle this, I'm going to head out and write more later.
First, I have no Internet service at my new house. It seemed silly to pay 30$ a month
when I'm only here a few weeks a year. So I'm unable to just sit on the futon at night and write and e-mail and blog.
The trip so far.....
Last blog we were in Amarillo. We left the next morning and drove about 6 hours into
Newton. I am so not going to bore you with the minutia of my trip, so suffice it to say that we made it to Newton, unloaded and drove to Salina where my brother lives and where there were tables and chairs, a couch and a washer and dryer to load up to drive back to Newton (thank you!!).
Two words - River Festival I usually do not put in a series of pictures, but I think the pictures say so much. The festival was four days of incredible art, bands and community. Salina has a population of about 48,000 but they have a daily turnout to this festival of at least 10,000 people. We ended up staying Salina for two days so we could go to the festival (and sleep). A few words about the pictures....that butterfly is painted on the grass!And that's a picnic table in the background. It's on the bank of the river.
The ants are wire sculptures. Every bridge had some sort of art attached or surrounding it. There were poetry walls, tons of kids activities and two big stages. There were bands and dancers and poets and story-tellers.
The art, food, and crafts were all juried and were awesome. I had one of the best music experiences I ever had; a band called Black Violin. They are two guys, classically trained violinists, playing in a more hip-hop/rock/R&B style. They were incredible. And here's Jay with a big spider.
The next two pictures are more random art; a string of fish on the river and a grass snake on the bank. I was just really impressed with the caliber of the art and music and food. We had alligator on a stick!! So, that was a fun and unexpected detour.
We got to Newton on Sunday and unloaded that day. Monday we traveled to a farm house in Sedgewick and bought a fifty dollar stove, we cleaned, we made Walmart runs for a toaster and a shower curtain and a set of tools. Jay vacuumed and did dishes.
Tuesday (today) we woke up to fleas (YUCK) but just a few and I already had the pest guy come out and KILL them all. (Me, on the phone, "I need you to come out NOW, or I need to call someone else because I am FREAKING out) We are headed to go get a refrigerator and then my friend, Kristy from Topeka is coming in to see us.
I have so much more to write about, and pictures of the house and Main Street and all the beautiful green trees everywhere but, Jay apparently does not want to sit in a coffee shop for two hours. So before we have to step outside to settle this, I'm going to head out and write more later.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Over Half Way
Jay and I are in Amarillo, Texas (this is the view out the hotel window). If I wanted, I could have eaten a 72 oz steak within one hour and it would have been FREE. It was on billboards all over the highway. I thought about it. Instead, we're at a pretty sweet hotel, watching the play-offs and eating a pizza from Pizza Hut (they deliver). I drove 607 miles today. We were on the road for over nine hours. We listened to music, sang a bunch, Jay watched DVD's and we ate. It's amazing we ordered a pizza we ate so much on the road. We had apples, apricots, peaches, raspberries, beef jerky, pop, peanuts, chocolate chip/M&M cookies, coffee, danish, cheese, two sandwiches and carrots. We still have a lot left in our cooler and tomorrow we are not stopping for lunch either. I have about six hours to drive tomorrow to get to Newton. The facts are this....I was worried about the trip. I'm pulling a U-Haul for the first time ever and I had my fears. In the shower this morning I even had a moment when I thought I was going to cry. Jeesh! What can I say....I worry sometimes. I am afraid of hydroplaning. I am occasionally afraid of large objects falling from the sky and hitting my windshield....and I don't mean hail. I think more about pieces of space craft breaking through the atmosphere and careening downward (so there is a modicum of irrational thought going on too). But once we got on the road and it was a reality, I just had to kick back and have fun. And here we are, halfway there and having fun. Just don't anyone mention that tomorrow is Friday the 13th.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Field Trip and Itty Frogs
One of the things this whole "not working very much" thing has afforded me is the chance to go on field trips. Official field trips. With my son's class. This year we did an overnight camping trip to Jerome, a two night camping trip to Kartchner Caverns, and a trip to the San Francisco Peaks. Today we went to Red Rock Crossing in Sedona. It was beautiful. There's only two days left of school and the kids have been done (in their minds) for at least a week, so it was the perfect day for a field trip. The picture above was the view from behind where we set down our towels. The creek was in front of us. There was no sand, just red rocks, huge ones, that we sat on. The kids played for hours, caught tadpoles and chased each other in and out of the water (which, for the record, was FREEZING). Here are two teeny frogs, with their tails still on a bit.
I wanted to take them home. We always tell the kids they need to leave the wild things where they found them, you know, take only pictures, leave only footprints. But in my head, I always think, I WANT them. I sound, often, like a seven year old in my head. I WANT those frogs and I want to keep them in a baggie until we get home and then I want to put them in a fish bowl and keep them FOREVER. But I don't. Jay caught this big crawdad. He is not the kind to just pick these things up but he did and brought it to show me. 
(When I saw my skinny white son running around I became obsessed with taking him home and making him eat a big bowl of pudding or a huge plate of chicken nuggets or even just giving him a big sack of candy....the boy is THIN.) There was also a speckled fat toad, a zillion tiny fish, more crawdads, and tadpoles everywhere. There were no injuries, very few tears and several fourth grade infatuations in the making. I have heard that the change from fourth to fifth grade is big. It's when some of them start noticing the "other" sex. It seems like, up until now, they've all been one big microcosm, similar interests, dispositions, and mannerisms. Now, and I can see it in them, some are getting ready to morph into being the nerds or the jocks or the freaks. I remember all those cliques, like small villages, and now my son and his friends will start that long branching off into what they will become. They don't have any idea where they are headed. But they are anxious to get there. Everything about them is getting bigger; their emotions, their bodies, the importance of who says what to who, and why. The changing of grades is as crucial as birthdays. As Jay keeps saying to me, "in two days, I'm a fifth grader".
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)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Dragonfly Time
Dragonfly time. Whole different gig. Well, kind of. Let's see.....
During my one year of Opus I didn't buy clothes or articles of adornment. (Yes, I remember the accidental tee-shirt) So, tomorrow I'm going to go out and buy these; new sneakers (mine have holes in them), new Levi's 505 jeans (one pair. and why is it called a pair? does that refer to the number of legs?), one package socks (men's tube socks, for the winter), I think that's it. Refine my first new sacrifice. Tweak the old one a bit.
1. I can only buy ONE wearable item a month (and no more house buying).
Rule two from Opus was no credit card usage. Still works.
2. No credit card usage.
The former third rule was only two bought coffee drinks a week. I've done pretty good with that. I've driven right past Starbucks countless times and just made a french press at home.
3. Same. No more than two bought coffees a week.
The fourth was a secret sacrifice and that will stay the same too.
4. The Secret One
Since those are pretty much the same as before, I feel compelled to add a couple new things. Which I don't necessarily think of as sacrifice but just "commitments" to my year. And now that I think about it, I want to think of them all, the sacrifices, the goals, the defining things, to be Commitments. Simplify!
5. Figure out a way or have an idea or create a situation where I give back. Where I do something to make the world better for someone else. (Is that f**king hokey!? Man, I need to go drink a few beers and pull myself together.)
6. Get a flipping job. Whoa! Okay, let me just get this out right now. Ready? I AM NEVER AGAIN GOING TO WORK AN EIGHT TO FIVE JOB. Whew. But, as no one is throwing cash my way to just exist, I have to be realistic (Dragonfly - moving beyond self-created illusions). Here's my dream. Work a twenty hour a week job (with benefits?!), also teach my poetry class, and do other things to piece it together. Flexibility is key. Maybe sell my furniture (Hahahaha), or teach a poetry workshop outside of the college arena. I don't know. I'm throwing it out to the universe (please take care of me, universe).
7. The creativity - No more four hours a day. I'm going to shoot for two. Two hours a day, five days a week of working at the creative. I still have book ideas, documentary thoughts, and, oh, ten more pieces of furniture in the garage. I did not learn how to can in my year of Opus, so I'll do it this year. Failure is NOT an ending, it is a chance for a new beginning (Could someone put that quote on a calendar?).
There. Seven commitments. And I'm going to throw out a challenge for you. Make two commitments. From June 1st to June 1st. Oh, do it. It helps to tell people. You can e-mail me. I think this last year, for many reasons, made me stronger, and more appreciative of what I have. It felt good to want a skirt, and NOT get it. The separation of want and need is important. That does not mean that we shouldn't also get what we want, (See, I didn't NEED that house in Kansas) it just feels good to be very conscious of the choices we make. And baby, it's all about the choices.
I can't find the quote I wanted to put here but I can kind of remember it. It's like this....
If you want to change your life, you have to CHANGE YOUR LIFE.
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