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

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.

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.

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)

Humor

This was funny to me.

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.

One Year Of Opus

This blog post is so important that I'm starting it a day ahead of time. It's Friday afternoon. Jay is on a little field trip. Stan is sacked out but (obviously) contemplative. Tomorrow, the 31st, is the last day of my One Year Of Opus. If you have no idea what I'm referring to, you need to read the July 16, 2007 post. Whew. Do I have a lot to talk about. So, go pour a cup of coffee, grab a beer, or make yourself a nice martini. This might take a while.

I did so many things I wanted to do. I knitted hats and made furniture and gardened and made goofy beaded glass candle hangers. I read a lot of books and I saw my own book become real. I wrote poems and ideas and letters. I made up recipes and cooked a lot of food. I tried to drink more water every day and eat better. I made collage envelopes and strange weird wire flowers. I taught poetry at the community college and did a couple Book Festivals. Okay, I even finger painted and wrote a poem on a pair of jeans with a bleach pen. I did not stick to the four-hour-a-day plan of being creative. But somedays I spent three hours painting, two more hours writing, and then another hour tending the garden. I also played kick ball and golf, started walking more and got back to dancing in the living room. I moved. I moved back to my old neighborhood, into my old house, away from bad decisions. I got to go on overnight, middle-of-the-week field trips with Jay. Some of those things I would have done anyway, Opus or not. But some of them I would have felt limited in, guilty or just too tired to do, had I not made rules and a conscious decision to be different.

One of the best things I was able to do in my year was to be with my mom. I got to be present with my mom when she was dying. I got to take care of her and feed her and see her to the end. I'm sure this blog got most of it across, but it was so hard at times. And it was so right and perfect and good for me. I cannot imagine not being there. Sometimes my whole insides felt hollow and empty, like everything had left except the grief. And then my mom would smile or give that little laugh and look at me and I felt so grateful to have that time with her. I would feel so filled up with absolute rightness.

I'll tell you a story....I used to be afraid of her body. I was afraid of how it might look. I didn't want to see her. Maybe it was even just the exposed, naked sense of skin transferring into the emotions. I was just frightened by the thought of sagging and sore parts and mess. The mess of the human body, old. How should one look at 87 years old? I was just afraid. Then one day, I went into her room and she was in the bathroom, just beginning to be bathed by one of the caregivers. She was sitting on one of those little seats. I kind of hung around outside the bathroom door. Then I mosied toward the bathroom and walked in. She was kind of fighting the aide so I just walked up and took hold of her arm and her shirt and help pull it off. I said, hey, I'm here, and she gave me this look like, Get me the hell out of this place, but she settled down. Wow, my mom looked beautiful. Her skin was soft and light. I just soaped up her back, which was as smooth as could be. I washed her hair and then I held her small, wet body to help her out of the chair. My clothes were wet and she was unsure of her footing but I helped her up and got her dressed and just thought, This is my mom, and she is so beautiful. I will never forget the grace of that moment. Like I was the luckiest person in the world.

If there was one reason for my year, I believe it was to be there, present, with her. I still have many moments when I feel selfish about my year. Like, who the heck am I to take time off and not have a full time job!? I know some people think I'm a little out of my mind. I love those people. I AM slightly crazy to have made the choice I did. But I have no regrets, only wonder.

Let's see, what else happened. The move back home was big. Mostly, I made a good decision where in the past I've made a bad one. That was a huge thing for me, feeling rather like a failure AGAIN, and then making and sticking with the decision to move on. And feeling strong in that....albeit, still a bit of a failure. And yet knowing, so KNOWING it was the right choice for Jay and I. This poem kind of says it for me....

The Journey
----by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Another thing about the year. Failure. It's okay. I failed sometimes. I didn't fail other times. Someone said to me the other day that it's our failures that we truly learn from, not so much our successes. I liked that.

One thing that really worked for me was the ban on buying clothes. Or jewelry. Or shoes, purses and ear rings. Aside from one accidental Arizona Cardinals Tee shirt, I did not buy any items of adornment. And it was a huge relief. I saved so much time! I could walk into Target and be done in 10 minutes. I walked right by Dillards and Penney's. It was not nearly as difficult as I thought it might be. It was a good and positive thing. Of course, I did buy a house.....

INTERMISSION
If you need to go warm up your coffee or make another martini, go ahead!!!
I have so much more to say :)

What next? WHAT NEXT!?!?

The next year...... From June 1st to June 1st. Now what? Holy Cripe. First, I've decided I want to have a year every year. A purpose, rules, ideas, goals. There were things that I thought about this year but didn't put into action....I could do those. Part of this is just how I am. Being a round peg, I can't fit into those square holes. I guess It's about time I realize that. When I graduated from high school my mom took me out to Macy's and bought me a suit. The soft brownish linen. The vest and jacket, and the skirt that came down to my knees. I thought, at the time, that was what I was supposed to do. Wear the outfit and get a job. Be a secretary. But I failed. I went to L.A. to be an actress. I drove n ice cream truck. I had mediocre, at best, relationships. I never made a dime at anything I did. I loved to dance. I loved to write. So I wrote. I liked to work retail and chat with folks. When I opened up my wine store, I did so because I didn't want my son to be in day care for 9 hours a day. That's all. I got out of the bad relationships before they killed me. (This all might be too much information but this is the last day of my One Year Of Opus so I get to spill). So, here's my next year....

It's the dragonfly year......

Dragonfly symbolism crosses and combines with that of the butterfly and change. The dragonfly symbolizes going past self-created illusions that limit our growing and changing. Dragonflies are a symbol of the sense of self that comes with maturity.

They are fantastic flyers, darting like light, twisting, turning, changing direction, even going backwards as the need arises. They are inhabitants of two realms - starting with water, and moving to the air with maturity, but staying close to water. Some people who have the dragonfly as their totem have had emotional and passionate early years, but as they get older they achieve balance with mental clarity and control. They gain an expression of the emotional and mental together.

Dragonflies are old and adaptive insects, and are most powerful in the summer under the effects of warmth and sunlight. Their colors are a result of reflecting and refracting the power of light. As a result, they are associated with color magic, illusion in causing others only to see what you wish, and other mysticism.

The are often represented in Japanese paintings, representing new light and joy. To some Native Americans they are the souls of the dead. Faerie stories say that they used to be real dragons.

Dragonflies are reminders that we are light and can reflect the light in powerful ways if we choose to do so. "Let there be light" is the divine prompting to use the creative imagination as a force within your life. They help you to see through your illusions and allow your own light to shine in a new vision.

I have a dragonfly doorbell and a dragonfly wind chime. Other than that, I am NOT becoming some cosmic whoo-ha. I'm still average and regular. And I am not going to start collecting unicorns and/or mermaid figurines (not that there's anything wrong with that).


So, actually, I just realized that it's still, technically, my One Year of Opus. Tomorrow, June 1st. I'll give you the rules, regulations, and hopes for the next one. The Year of the Dragonfly....

Marigolds and Beautiful Fear

Great weekend. I planted marigolds in pots. I can't decide if my front porch looks kitschy or hip. You be the judge. But, either way, I love the marigolds. That flower always reminds me of my mom. When I was a kid, we would spend several days in the spring planting marigolds and petunias. We would sit at the side of the house, amid clover patches, and dig holes in the dirt garden and plant. It was a patch of dirt probably three feet by twenty feet right up next to the house. Earthworms would writhe about and we always had a coffee can to put them in for my dad's fishing. The house next door had window wells and my friend Kristy lived there and we usually had a toad or something wild that we had made a house for and stuck down in that windawell. The sun would be bright and my mom would let me help. I think about that when Jay wants to help and I think, No, I Can Do It Faster (and better). Instead I try to remember that it's okay if it's not done perfect or even, always, well. I know I didn't dig good holes or plant those marigolds straight, but it was so good to sit in the green grass and have dirty hands. And now I can dig good holes. I used to like to take a single marigold flower and pop it off the stem. You could peel the green bottom away and there would be a million marigold petals with their own white little stem with the black tip. I thought if I flung them out in the air, marigolds would grow in everyone's lawn but they never did. I only realized a few years ago that they had to dry first.

Regarding fear. I am so afraid at times of so many things. I worry about driving back to Kansas. Will there be a tornado? Or a driving rain storm? Or a blow-out? Or a fifty car pile-up? Will I stop at a rest stop at the same time as a deranged psychopath? At the same time, this is the cool mystery of life. The other side is; will we see a herd of antelope against the setting sun? Will I stop at a Wendy's and find a twenty dollar bill? Will there be a light rain sprinkle that makes the air smell clean and then a triple rainbow? Will someone I know, at the last minute, say Hey, Can I Drive Back To Kansas With You? Will I buy a lottery ticket in Albuquerque and win 27 million dollars?

But still, fear is around. I think about it because I've talked to four good friends of mine in the last week who have brought it up. Fear. Of getting older, of the employment conundrum, of gas prices and how to make ends meet. Of making relationships work, and raising kids, and parents getting old. It's so real and big. It's not like a phobia. It's just that general feeling of, Holy Cripe, what if this happens? What will I do? How do I make my life work? I'm glad the people I know talk about it. I think there is no solution except that.....talk. Sometimes I think I have mild agoraphobia. I just want to sit in my house writing and painting and never travel and never climb a ladder. But then I get in my car and head out to Kingman for the Bookfestival or plan a trip to Kansas. I climb the ladder and change the light bulb (note; I'm only on the third rung) and my hands shake and I think about the screws coming out of the rungs (I am a dork) but I really want the light to work.

I see those "No Fear" stickers and I think it's such a good idea and the stickers are cool and motivating but, man, fear can be overwhelming. And it's useless more times than it's useful. There are times when it works, or could work....like in those Friday the Thirteenth movies where the girl goes BACK into the house after finding her friend skewered on a coat rack. That b**ch needs to USE her fear and get out of there. Same deal with lumps. You find a lump or a patch of skin that has turned odd and speckled and you feel fear; take that fear to the nearest phone and make an appointment to check it out. Useful fear. Actually, it was fear that made me start my one year of opus, Fear that I would waste this life. That fear motivated me to live more, take more heart risks, be more real.

But most of the others, I think you just have to dive in. Get in the car and drive. Say what you mean. Approach your parent about assisted living. Climb the F**king ladder (Uh oh, that's my second use of veiled profanity in one post). I suppose I'll always be afraid of stroking out, or people I love going away, or getting a flat tire during a tornado near an asylum. But it's not going to stop me from dancing.


Do one thing every day that scares you.
----Eleanor Roosevelt.

Snow

This is Flagstaff today.....

And, because I seem to be unable to stop writing as of late....

I was reading a little Vonnegut last night in bed and I remembered this quote (see below), from my 67 pages of quotes in my "Quote" file. Then when I looked at it this morning, I thought, and yes, it's also cold in the summer. And then, reading over my blog from last night (see below), I was feeling interminably grateful for all the wonder in my life, all the simple things like having a bed and food and a boy doing homework in the kitchen and a dog on the couch, and it made me think of all the scary things out there and all the people going through really rough times - the earthquakes and tornadoes and just the plain, hellish lives some people are living. Then, I felt so helpless in wanting to help SOMEHOW but not having a clue as to what to do to make a difference in the world. THEN, I decided (back to this quote) that while I'm trying to figure out how to help and how to be a better person and how to make a difference, probably being kind is the best way to start. Talk about stream of consciousness......

Hello babies, welcome to earth. It's hot in the summer and
cold in the winter. It's round, and wet, and crowded. At
the outset babies, you've got about a 100 years here.
There's only one rule that I know of babies – Damn it,
you've got to be kind. There's only one rule: you've got to
be kind.
--Kurt Vonnegut, from "God Bless you Mr. Rosewater"

A New Low

I'm going to do something I said I'd never do. I'm going to stoop so low I may even lose a few of you to better and more interesting blogs. Yes, I am going to blog about....my dinner. It's over now. I have finished my dinner and am now basking in the after-dinner glow. In fact, I just finished eating several bites of Jay's Dreyer's cookie dough ice cream right out of the container. I am not normally an ice cream person so the ice cream is Jay's. But, in my post-dinner joy, I dug around in his ice cream and ate the chunks of cookie dough out of the regular vanilla surrounding them. He's going to be pissed. But, back to the dinner.

Jay had Boy Scouts tonight and he ate dinner there. That left me on my own. I used to make this great pasta and I had not made it for ages. It's very simple but also filling and hot and yummy. So, I started by cooking up some whole wheat angle hair. While that was cooking, I put about a quarter cup of olive oil in a sauce pan, pressed about four cloves of garlic in there and put it to simmer. I had two brilliantly red, ripe tomatoes so I cut them up into the oil and garlic, added a bit of fresh basil and fresh parsley. I let it all simmer together for 20 minutes or so. Drained the pasta and added the pasta to the saucepan with the sauce. I had some real Parmigiano Reggiano that I grated all over the top. Then...THEN, I opened a half bottle of Duckhorn Merlot, 2002. O.M.G. I sat in my father's recliner and watched the news while eating. Jay sat in the kitchen doing his homework. After I sat down and placed my wine next to me on the table and looked down at my beautiful pasta, I must have laughed because Jay hollered over, "What are you laughing about?" and I realized I was giddy about my food. I was so enamored by my dinner that I took a picture of it.

After having been on both sides of the stick, so to speak, I never take this shit for granted.

Now, I am going to go read Jay a chapter out of By The Banks of Plum Creek, clean up the kitchen, and drink my second, and final glass of Duckhorn. And next time, I'll try and have something a bit more interesting to write about.

We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.
--H. G. Wells

What's So Fun(ny)

(Still immersed in my parentheses fetish)

Did I mention that I love The Office? I love it so much that it makes Jay angry. I say, on Thursday nights, If you want a story, you better be in your bed, teeth brushed, by 7:40, cause I'm watching The Office at 8:00. And, if he stalls and pokes about and gets in bed at five till eight, I have to throw it down....Sorry, dude, my show's coming on, turn your light off when you're done reading (kind of in the vein of Don't Let The Door Hit You On Your Way Out). Then he says ten-year-old-boy things like, I Wish The Electricity Would Go Out Right Now And Then You couldn't Watch The Office And You'd Have To Read Me A Book. At which time I fling back, Still Couldn't, No Lights Dude.

And for another good laugh, I had my celebrity look-a-likes configured. I found this on my friend Tyge's blog (okay, we've never met, but my theory is that if I like someones writing, and they make me laugh, and they have any musical taste whatsoever, they must be a friend). It appears that I look like lots of cool people. I wonder if Don Rickles or Ruth Buzzi ever pops up on these things. I especially like that I look like Rob Lowe.

MyHeritage - free family trees, genealogy and face recognition" target="_blank">

On to the fun. I have been listening to a new band (new for me; they've been around for awhile), Widespread Panic. I put one of their songs on my Ear Candy so check it out.

Jay and I went fishing again and I got the Blue Heron picture.
And Jay caught fish. Two trout.

The Kingman KABAM was very fun. I read my poems, worked in the high school and just had an overall good experience.

I don't know if I'm reaping in some karmic goodness, or just being a lucky s.o.b. right now, but I'm experiencing all these good, kind, full-of-heart, interesting people. I'm having some great experiences and supreme, groovy, joyfullicious (new word alert) moments. So, whoever I need to thank; the universe or god or my mom and dad, I am so flipping thankful.

I've been writing a lot lately. Trying to work my brain before I have to (Aacckk!) go check out the "real job" arena. One-sentence poems have been my new personal assignment so I'll leave you with one of those....



o.s.p. 4 heron
From here I see
the wind tousle
the smoky feathers
that give you flight
and I hear
their sound
as you rise up
in the still
sky, whispering
freedom.

Mother's Day

I wrote this poem for my mom several years ago. I was reading it today, thinking about her, wondering, again, where in the heck is she? Then I looked at Jay, and I thought, well, there she is. I looked at the curio cabinet in my living room and saw this teeny, old teapot, one bitty cup and half a lid to an equally tiny sugar bowl (all that's left from her set from when she a child) and thought, there she is. I looked at these cool Asian pictures on my wall, ones that my dad brought home from some war, and remembered how, when she was early in her dementia, she would come over and take them off the walls and put them next to the door because "these are mine and I'm taking them home" and then by the time I'd take her back to The Peaks, she would have forgotten them, and damn, I thought, there she is. I thought of all those nameless things, how on Friday I gathered a bunch of canned food up and stuck them in a bag next to the mailbox because there was a postal food drive, and I did it because SHE would have done it. So, I kind of found her today, and although it's not the phone call I really wanted, it's enough.

Here's the poem, and even though I had it in an older blog, it seemed so right for my first Mother's Day without her.....

Care

I would stand in the circular drive
at McEachron elementary school, my hand splayed out
above my eyes, watching
for the Olds.
When it pulled up, I would struggle
with the heavy door against
the Kansas wind and settle my slight
ten year old self
on the burgundy velvet bench seat.
We were going to Bike’s
Burger Bar for thirteen cent hamburgers
while all the other kids sat
at the gray formica tables in the stark gymnasium,
eating beef-a-roni and drinking milk
from tiny red and white cartons.

Every other Friday at exactly noon
she came to get me;
the only one leaving school for lunch, the only one
having a Bike’s hamburger with french fries
and a pop. Sitting at the speckled table,
my mother would listen as I talked in-between bites;
she would ask questions,
and make sure I had enough ketchup.
I don’t know what we talked about; recess maybe,
a mean boy or how my cat, Tony,
could meow the loudest of all the cats.
And before she took me back
she would dip her napkin in the cold,
sharp ice water and wipe my face.

On Saturdays she would let me
polish the philodendrons with a cotton ball
and a plastic cup of milk and mayonnaise.
She would vacuum,
and iron sheets and handkerchiefs
while I knelt on the floor
and cleaned each soft green leaf.

Now we are walking down a sidewalk
where nothing is familiar
to her. Not the cars passing, not the house
where they have lived
for seventeen years, not even me. I think
that I would like her to take me to Bike’s Burger Bar
again, or mix the milk and mayonnaise
with an old tarnished spoon
and let me wash the leaves
for her. I would like to sit together
by the side of the house, planting marigolds
and petunias, dropping the pink, writhing earthworms
in a Folgers Coffee can; the scant grounds
of coffee left in the bottom
for food. I would like to go somewhere with her
and have her listen to me, and ask questions,
and make sure I have enough ketchup.

She will not ask any questions today.
But the hand that I hold is the one that once held
the damp napkin and washed the lunch from my face.
It is the one
that held the iron
and planted the marigolds, the one that
opened the Folgers and turned off the light
before I slept. As we keep walking, I settle
myself against her slight frame,
draping my arm across her shoulder,
and hold tight to the body, living.

Change

I used to rearrange the furniture in my house all the time. Every other month or so, I'd spend an evening moving the couch, putting the plants in different places and changing what tables the lamps all sat on. It made the place feel like a new house. I used to experience change by moving to a new town or going to a different school. I still love change, but in smaller doses. I love the change of the seasons here. I love the house I'm in, the town I live in and the friends I have. So, when I moved this time and after all my furniture was put where I wanted it, I looked around and thought, wow, I like this layout. I thought, I might not change this furniture around for a long time. So, now I think I'll be fairly content with changing my blog look occasionally, switching out my eating utensil drawer (that's a funny one when people are used the spoons being in one place and then they have to hunt for them...it makes them think they're CRAZY), and moving the outdoor furniture around on the back deck. And I put my music back on too. I'd gotten e-mails and comments about it...and I missed it too. Now it's up to you to turn it on.

Book Festival #2, etc

Hey, I'm doing another one. May 15 - 17, I'll be at the Kingman KABAM.

I'm planning on doing the Oprah show in the fall, although I haven't heard from her yet. Silly.

Jay and I are also heading to Kansas in June. Holy Schmoly, I forgot, I bought a flipping house in Kansas. What was I thinking?! We're excited. I love road trips and I think it will be a beautiful drive. Plus, not a bad time of year weather-wise. Aside from the massive, driving-rain, swirling tornados.

My family is having a memorial for my mom and dad back there in late June. It's very hard, sometimes, to believe they're gone. I think a lot, probably too much, about that. Where are they? I don't know exactly what Heaven I believe in. I want to know for sure but there is no "knowing for sure". It's helped me at times to read what other people think. I've found some books and quotes (of course) that make me feel a modicum of comfort. There is one that I loved that talked about how the body is the womb for the soul. How, when the soul is born, it discards the body. I liked that one. I get mixed up sometimes between hope and faith and grief. I would pretty much be satisfied by only one thing....if they would call me on the phone and say, "Hey, It's your dad (mom) and I'm doing fine here. Now go get a real job" That last part would assure me it was really them.

I want to put some of this in a book and I'd love some help, so.......
If you could send me an e-mail that says, in a few paragraphs or so, what you think happens when we take that very last breath....and into the next few minutes or hours or years (or is it timeless?). What happens? What happens. Where do we/you/they go? Send it to jilliebug@aol.com - If you can get anyone else to write, do that too. And if you are a close personal friend of Bono or Obama or Cher, or even somebody from American Idol or your local City Hall, have them give me their thoughts too. Or the Chinese man at the bakery or the woman with the big blond hair at the gym. Really.

I'm thinking about writing books and doing the documentary about my mom. I'm thinking of finishing up the furniture and getting my garden started. I'm thinking of filing an extension for my One Year of Opus....... uh oh.

Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having at the moment. -Eckhart Tolle

Updates.....

Bookfest - Wow. That was so much fun. I met so many very cool people. I heard Tim Seibles read (Tim, I really meant it when I asked if you could just call me at night and read me stories) and what a wonderful voice and presence he has. I had a student in class today that said that when Tim read, "you just want to melt into your seat and realize how right everything is in the world." I also listened to Dorothy Allison (what a great woman) read a story that has stuck with me since the reading. She made the room resonate with her characters and power. Oh, and then there were about three dozen more awesome writers that made my weekend. If you missed it, you are a fool! The only way to redeem yourselves is to go to a bookstore and buy books and lose yourself in those books for a WHOLE F**KING DAY. There. Go do that.

Field Trip - You may not know this but, at 7:00 am, the day after the Bookfest, I went on a two night field trip to Kartchner Caverns with my son. And THAT was so fun too. There were 19 fourth graders and 10 adults. Kartchner was beautiful, and we went on hikes and swam and sat by the camp fire. Here are a couple pictures from the hikes. Note - there is a bee in that yellow flower. I am, as a matter of fact, not scared of bees. And, if you click on the red ocotillo flower and make it big (maybe even make it your desktop) it looks so cool. It's the clearest, sharpest close-up I've ever taken and it should be seen enlarged. True confession - we stayed at a KOA. It was kind of somewhere between camping and a hotel. There was swimming, mini golf, and all of the tents were about six inches apart. But it was funnnn. I love night time when I'm camping. I have a new sleeping bag and it was cozy and soft and wondrous. I curled up in there and read Bookfest books with my little head lamp and listened to the wind and worried about monsters from the ghost stories. Luckily, there were other people in other tents a mere twelve inches away from my head. Oh, and...there were showers. Yes, we were living in the lap of luxury.

The quote of the day today has relevance to nothing I've written here. Sometimes they relate but not today. I include it only because it makes me laugh. For two reasons; one, it's funny, and two, it's said by "Mango." What is THAT all about?

"Life is hard. It's even harder when you're stupid."
--Mango

Okay, yes, I have had moments when that would apply to me :)

Bookfest Week

Just a reminder...it's Bookfest weekend and if you can get to Flagstaff, you should come! Great writers (Dorothy Allison, Tim Seibles, Sean Carswell, Todd Taylor, Christine Granados, Greg Pape, me, and many more), excellent panels (Twain, Wilde, and Who is This Jon Stewart Fellow?), and fun until you just can't stand it anymore. Check out our website nazbookfest.com and get over here. Mention this ad and I'll buy you a beer. Psych.

Picture(less)

(I've really had a thing lately for parenthesis)

I have pictures in my head that I need to get on the computer but I can't find a plug-in on the computer for that (or on my head).

You know how sometimes you do something that you really set out NOT wanting to do? And then afterwards you're really glad you did it? And you really had an okay time? Yesterday, Jay was off school. I had six billion things to do. I knew he wanted to go fishing. But I DID NOT HAVE TIME TO FISH. After running around all morning, doing errands and dropping off checks and making phone calls, we made it home around lunch. I was all ready to get into unpacking more boxes and Swiffering the floor when I looked at him in the living room, a little dejected on his day off from school.

"Get your tackle box and pole together" I said, "let's go fish." He was ready in 49 seconds and we were heading out. I should have taken my camera. But all I could think about was coming home in an hour or so.

Then, suddenly, we were sitting on the ground at Lake Mary and Jay was deciding whether he should use a spinner or a bobber, and I was listening to the sound water makes when it hits the shore. I looked down the edge of the water about 30 feet and there was a Great Blue Heron! Just hanging out, waiting for fish to fly in its mouth. It was so beautiful. That's my first camera-less picture. Water sparkly in the background, a tall bird, feathered bluish and grayish. Long, thin yellow beak and several white feathers protruding from the top of his head, drooping slightly toward the back. The sky in the background is the color of wind. Spindly legs the same color as the beak. One eye watching. (Can you see him?) Black feathers near the eyes. His "s" shaped neck is silky and is the part you most want to reach out and touch. He's not perfect, his feathers slick in some places, shaggy in others, and there's an odd ruffle part way down his back. It looks like a bird cow-lick. His beak is scratched in two places; it looks like someone used a brillo pad to clean off some fish residue. His expression is perfect. Wary, watchful, calm. Yes, wary and calm at the same time. He is not looking at the camera, but slightly side view, head turned more toward us than away. That's the picture. In the video, he slowly opens his large angel wings and lifts off from the water, his bird feet suddenly emerging, his neck straightening out, all grace and flight. You can hear the wings flap, like a whisper by your ear, and he glides over to the other shore, landing in the reeds to peruse the fish availability over there.

Now we've been there an hour. I've been alternately reading a book (Trash, by Dorothy Allison) and taking the errant weeds off Jay's hook. I'm the official hook "de-weeder" on this outing. No fish have been caught. The man 60 feet down the shore has caught 30. Really. Jay just keeps reeling in weeds. But he's good. He's casting it out, reeling it in. He likes this. He's rather have two trout on his stringer but we're learning patience in fishing.

I stand and walk a few feet up the shore. I look down. Here's the other picture. A weed. Large, the size of a milk carton. Partially in the water. It's stems are papery, with a few dime sized, sand colored flowers here and there, dried and dead. In the center of the plant are several brilliant green leafy pieces. They are growing straight up the middle. Then, you notice the orange. Tiny droplets of bright orange. Ladybugs. Twenty-seven. Doing lady bug business. Some are almost red. Some are nearly pastel. Most are identical beautiful orange. Black spots everywhere. Tiny black heads. Even tinier peeks of ladybug legs. Because it's a picture, they are all frozen in place, but you can tell some are moving about by the way a few are slightly blurred. They are their own little lady bug world. The brown stems at the water's surface are darker and look a bit slimy. They sit on the water like small strands of tissue paper. The water itself is brackish but still reflective. The ladybugs are about the size of those little pink erasers that are stuck on the tops of pencils. In the picture, some are bigger, close-up. You can even see the barely brownish ring that separates the orange background from the black dot. There is a corner of the picture that is the mud of the shore. It has speckles of black and brown and gray everywhere. It looks thick, almost clay-like. In the video, the lady bugs keep moving, busy and mindless on their temporary thatched home.

We fish for 2 hours. Well, Jay fishes, I read and take mind pictures. It's an good day. We also get irritated and tired. It's windy and the sun squints my eyes too much. Jay's line gets caught on his last cast and we both are tired. He gets mad at the pole, and I cut my finger on the line trying to get it uncaught. We get in the car and I muster up a good attitude. "That was fun, even though you didn't catch anything, we still saw some cool stuff. And you did get some bites. We'll come back in a few weeks." Jay musters up the good attitude too, to my immense happiness..."Yeah, that was fun. I love fishing."

Musical Blog

If there is music playing right now, it's because I have a play list at the bottom of my blog. I put some of my favs (Doesn't the word favs just make you cringe) on there for your listening pleasure. If you despise them, or just prefer to read my words in silence, you can turn it off. In my poetry class one semester, I had everyone make mixed CD's for each other as the midterm, hahaha, just kidding, of course I gave a real test. (Lyrics ARE poetry, btw) Anyway, it was so cool. I got introduced to scads of new music that I NEVER would have heard otherwise. Music is sort of like quotes...it can change your whole outlook, just one great song. Actually, thinking about it, it can also totally get you so far down it's like you're in a deep black hole. So, yeah for music!

Stan has a new dog door and as you can see, he is not pleased. He would prefer I jump up from the couch or sprint to the door every time he has to (as my mom would say) tinkle or explore bugs or hunt for the ball he hid fifteen minutes ago. It's a swanky one with two flaps and a tunnel thru the wall. I have to stick his head through it and push his little furry ass and then he's outside. He needs no help coming back in, of course. He'll get used to it.

I just made a big pot of coffee and it's 5:00 pm. I have so many boxes to put away and things to sort through from moving and I've been yawning all day. There's something so fun about drinking a pot of coffee and staying up until 2:00 am. Oh, wait, did I say fun? I meant to leave the n off and add something else :) I have gotten rid of so much crap, and cleaned and purged. Even after not buying clothes or ANY accoutrement to wear since June, my closet was stupid full. Cleaning house. I love it when the metaphor matches the action.

This move has been good, yet difficult at times. I have to say, again, I love my friends. They have stepped up for me and helped me move and listened and hung out and been there. So here's a quote for them.......

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

And another, just because I like it.

I found out that the things that hurt us the most can
become the fuel and the catalyst that propel us toward
our destiny. It will either make you bitter or it will
make you better.
-- T.D. Jakes

The Lost Week (end)

I moved. And it was time to get things cleaned up. I moved into a house I own but had moved out of two years ago. Then I moved back in. The carpet was yucky. The walls were smudged. It needed paint and a different floor and some real work. So, that's where I've been. It's weird, when something so takes over your life like moving. I let every other single thing, including e-mail, phone calls, Bookfest and poetry fall by the wayside. All I did was pack and paint and tear out carpet and throw things in big black trash bags labeled "kitchen" or "office." All I did was try and figure out, "is this mine or his" and "did I switch all the utilities?"

Mostly, I mention the moving thing because my cast of characters has changed and my scenery is different. Archie and Miss Helen did not move with us. And now I have a purple door. Things like that. I have made it a point to not EVER use this blog to write about relationships (of the romantic sort). I think too much usually gets said there (and you know what a private person I am hahaha) and I want my blog to be a place away from that. But here are a few insights on moving (on)...
1. There really is such a thing as too much alcohol (and I'm not talking about me).
2. It's good to have friends. It's even better to have friends that will help you move (You guys rock!).
3. If you can get it all done in one day, do it (even if all you want to do is sleep and your friends force you to finish it up).
4. When buying furniture, always ask for the floor model. You get a sweet discount (although you mustn't be bothered by scratches, nicks and a faulty door latch).
5. And finally, one of my favorite Zen quotes..."Fall down seven times, stand up eight" (Yeah).

Go Read a Book

This is a shameless plug for a wonderful event. The Northern Arizona Book Festival is coming to Flagstaff and it is gonna rock. We have some very cool writers who will be reading their work. We have a dance troupe (what a strange word, troupe. It's one of those words that when written down, just looks weird, misspelled, not quite right, but in your head it makes perfect sense), art, and interesting panels (yes, another. It's panels as in people sitting at long tables talking about stuff, not sections of walls). I'm having a little bit of word wonderment today. Ahem, moving on. If you can't make it to Flagstaff (for all my readers in Madagascar), please check out the authors and just read the books in whatever place you live. Dorothy Allison is wonderful (read Bastard Out of Carolina), and Tim Seibles is an awesome poet. (I'm also having a parentheses obsession) Finally, I have been trying for half an hour to get a picture of the poster on this blog and I have failed...so, go to this link and check it out. Oh, I'm reading too. For the Bookfest. At night. In a large auditorium.

And since I can't seem to get a picture of the poster up, I'm just going to put up this one I took of my front yard.

Oh, I'm just kidding (but if you were going to have pink flamingos in your yard, wouldn't you want it to look like THIS?)