Missing Bumble

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

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


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

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

Moving into winter

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

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

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

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

Yesterdays news

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

Quick and Easy

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

http://twitter.com/Shitmydadsays


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

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

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

I have all my Christmas shopping done. Sweet.

How To Like It

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How to Like It

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

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

Yes, I Mention Rainbows

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

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

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

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

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

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

BTW

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

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


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


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

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

Bee good

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

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

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

Mom

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

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

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

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

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

Welcome Isabella

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We Love a Sale

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

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

Where am I?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Groovy, man.

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

Woodstock

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

True That

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













Here we are using it.....





































You can never go wrong with the silly straw.

faux hawk

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



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

Confession

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part II

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Happiness depends upon ourselves."
Aristotle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part I

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go Cardinals (#11 in a series of 30)

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, I'll try" he says.

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

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

Movie Review Day

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

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

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

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

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


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

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