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)

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

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 ~

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.