I think the pollen count is off the charts here... even my skin itches.
Phoenix is in the throws of reproduction as the spring rains have given rise to wild exuberance in the plant kingdom... but it is making me miserable.
Red eyes feel like they are filled with sand.
Red nose from too much wiping, blowing and sniffling
Dry mouth and chapped lips from decongestants that leave me parched, but thank heaven, breathing
Scratchy throat with a voice that lurches through thick mucus.
Where my sister lives they still fear a late frost, but here it is dry and 95 today.
So hard to believe that someone lives where a sweater is still required, where the air is still crisp, clean and nearly sterile, where you can go for a walk and take in deep breathes of air as you look for signs of spring.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
ok, two pictures of those boys... P has since gotten his hair cut, but still looks as cute as a two year old can... W taller and skinnier every day. Last night he wanted me to play GI Joe with him, but when his dad showed up, he told me I could quit, because "Dad knows how to play, Grama"
Cheeeze!
Too cool to be bothered with pictures
Yesterday it was getting pretty sketchy, but today it is gone. Oh, I can whisper... I can even honk out a couple sounds now and again. But for the most part, silence. I find a day of it expansive.
This morning I headed to the gym... avoiding the pollen and pollution and looking for the steam room. I did this exercise I have perfected where I go down into a crouch, holding ten pound weights in either hand, and do kind of a sideways crab walk... first leading with one foot then the other. I do fifteen in a row, then switch, and between my sets I do fifteen lunges. These kick butt and mine can feel it already this evening. It looks pretty funny, but I think it is effective.
Cheeeze!
Too cool to be bothered with pictures 4/26/08
I have no voice today.
Yesterday it was getting pretty sketchy, but today it is gone. Oh, I can whisper... I can even honk out a couple sounds now and again. But for the most part, silence. I find a day of it expansive.
This morning I headed to the gym... avoiding the pollen and pollution and looking for the steam room. I did this exercise I have perfected where I go down into a crouch, holding ten pound weights in either hand, and do kind of a sideways crab walk... first leading with one foot then the other. I do fifteen in a row, then switch, and between my sets I do fifteen lunges. These kick butt and mine can feel it already this evening. It looks pretty funny, but I think it is effective.
I decided today I am going to pay attention to whether I am holding in my stomach. Honestly, my posture can sag into this s-curve so easily.
I also shopped. On line I purchase new Brooks running shoes... they are the only brand I have bought in several years... I read recently they are noted for their stability, and I can attest to their effectiveness. Also got some Columbia shorts, Chaco sandals, and a pair of Royal Robbins jeans that are made from a blend of Cool Max and Lycra... and probably some good old cotton twill, I'm really more curious about these than anything else.
I returned a dress I had ordered from Talbot's... it fit, it was very flattering... but it just didn't match my face... it needed a ponytail or something. Held my stomach in all the while I walked into the store and out.
Next stopped at the folks house to look at their toilet problem... it is funny, I an kind of an expert on toilets... I can pretty much fix anything that is wrong with one and diagnose what I can't fix... this was a can't fix problem. I was whispering the whole time, and my mom, who did not have her hearing aid in could not hear a thing I said unless I spoke right into her ear. I told her I spoke to L. this morning. She always asks.
After that I went to the mall... not my kind of shopping, normally, but they have a J. Jill store there and I had seen a denim skirt I wanted to try... Asked for a size ten, but ended up needing the eight... oh darn! Remembered to hold my stomach in the entire time I was in the store.
Went to Ulta2 and got some stuff I hope will make me look beautiful, to Trader Joe's and Sprouts (where I bought some throat tea by Yogi... maybe by tomorrow I will be able to speak if I sip this all night long), and finally to the library to drop off and pick up books.
Tonight, movies from the library, finishing up side one of the purse I am knitting, and maybe a chapter of one of the books I picked up.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
counting stitches meditation
This past week, I think I have been practicing just being. Just being in the moment, just being present, just being happy in it's simplest form. One thing that helps me 'just be', is knitting. The click of the needles, the self-talk (one, two...one two) to keep my pattern going, the pausing to look at what I am doing... even the little mistakes, which I seldom rip out, are all part of staying in this one place.
I'm making a purse from the knitted bag book I bought at the thrift store and some stash Rowan cotton-linen yarn I had bought as part of a ridiculously discounted kit a few years ago. I love it so far. I made a teeny mistake while knitting this morning, I one-two'd where I should have just purled all the way. But I think in the little nubs that have been created I might stitch in a bead. What you can't fix, feature, I always tell the kids.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
controlled chaos?
It is the final quarter before summer break. The kids, first through eighth grade went through four days of testing for the big Arizona test last week and we are all feeling a collective sigh of relief.
In the art room, fourth quarter, we have pulled out the scrap cardboard, the foam blocks I've been getting from the library all year, the computer and motorcycle parts I have scavenged and any other odd bit of wire, bottle cap, bead or sparkle. We are building fantastic sculptures!
The kids look at the treasure trove of recycled junk and wonder how anything can be made from it. Today I had second graders sawing foam. Probably none of them had ever touched a saw before. But there they stood, holding one side of the foam in one had and the saw in the other... I held the other side of the foam and monitored, coached and cheered them on. It was great fun. Kimberly, who can be a real busy-body pain was so pleased with herself she completely forgot to get into anybody else's business.
I like this. It is crazy and free-form. The kids need to work in groups, so the noise level gets pretty intense... by the time I reach the end in seven weeks, I will be worn out with it. I know I will get crabby. I really don't have room to store all these big projects, so the clutter factor will get to me, too. So I warn them, try to prepare them for my mini-explosions... they will happen.
Still, it is so worth it. I think they really learn more about being creative, working cooperatively, trusting themselves, and the joy of the unexpected in these last chaotic weeks when I pull out the boxes and bins of this'n'that than at any other time of the year. The projects, when they are complete will range from structurally sound and identifiable to wild and haphazard... but they will all be great. Getting something to just stand up is so very difficult!
The other day, listening to NPR a writer/journalist talked about how valuable being allowed to play was for his professional creativity. How working in an environment where play was not just accepted but encouraged really made him the celebrated journalist he had become. So these last weeks of school are my attempt to introduce that element of play into my classroom.
Today, as they worked and fiddled and talked, I stood in the back of the room and took some of the same material they were using and made what one boy said looked like a cowboy. They were amazed that I had erected something in so short a time.
How did you do that? one boy asked.
In fifty years, I tell him, I have learned what won't work.
In the next few weeks they will. too.
In the art room, fourth quarter, we have pulled out the scrap cardboard, the foam blocks I've been getting from the library all year, the computer and motorcycle parts I have scavenged and any other odd bit of wire, bottle cap, bead or sparkle. We are building fantastic sculptures!
The kids look at the treasure trove of recycled junk and wonder how anything can be made from it. Today I had second graders sawing foam. Probably none of them had ever touched a saw before. But there they stood, holding one side of the foam in one had and the saw in the other... I held the other side of the foam and monitored, coached and cheered them on. It was great fun. Kimberly, who can be a real busy-body pain was so pleased with herself she completely forgot to get into anybody else's business.
I like this. It is crazy and free-form. The kids need to work in groups, so the noise level gets pretty intense... by the time I reach the end in seven weeks, I will be worn out with it. I know I will get crabby. I really don't have room to store all these big projects, so the clutter factor will get to me, too. So I warn them, try to prepare them for my mini-explosions... they will happen.
Still, it is so worth it. I think they really learn more about being creative, working cooperatively, trusting themselves, and the joy of the unexpected in these last chaotic weeks when I pull out the boxes and bins of this'n'that than at any other time of the year. The projects, when they are complete will range from structurally sound and identifiable to wild and haphazard... but they will all be great. Getting something to just stand up is so very difficult!
The other day, listening to NPR a writer/journalist talked about how valuable being allowed to play was for his professional creativity. How working in an environment where play was not just accepted but encouraged really made him the celebrated journalist he had become. So these last weeks of school are my attempt to introduce that element of play into my classroom.
Today, as they worked and fiddled and talked, I stood in the back of the room and took some of the same material they were using and made what one boy said looked like a cowboy. They were amazed that I had erected something in so short a time.
How did you do that? one boy asked.
In fifty years, I tell him, I have learned what won't work.
In the next few weeks they will. too.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
fearless
I wanted my hair cut. Actually I wanted my head shaved... I wanted to start over... I wanted someone else's hair. But what I asked for, today, was a hair cut.
My youngest had come by to pick up a chest of drawers I was passing on to her house and I said, "Cut my hair."
I think I have mentioned I have curly hair. Not nice big shiny curls, but Brillo pad like kinkies with minds of their own. While she was fiddling with my computer I picked my hair out into a massive Afro. When she finally turned her attention to me, and said, "whoa!" as she viewed the fro, I told her to trim it just like she would a hedge, going for shape rather than all the same length. She mostly got it and with some help from me we ended up with something close to what I wanted.
After she left, I clipped a little more and the words, 'snicker-snack" blipped into my head. Jabberwocky! Now there is a story of fearlessness. At one time I had that poem by Lewis Carrol memorized. Full of joy, adventure and delight.
It will be tomorrow, after a shower and clips and gel, before I know if I can shout "Callooh! Callay!" over the hair cut. Once I get it in order, and that may take some revision, I will take a picture and let you see.
My youngest had come by to pick up a chest of drawers I was passing on to her house and I said, "Cut my hair."
I think I have mentioned I have curly hair. Not nice big shiny curls, but Brillo pad like kinkies with minds of their own. While she was fiddling with my computer I picked my hair out into a massive Afro. When she finally turned her attention to me, and said, "whoa!" as she viewed the fro, I told her to trim it just like she would a hedge, going for shape rather than all the same length. She mostly got it and with some help from me we ended up with something close to what I wanted.
After she left, I clipped a little more and the words, 'snicker-snack" blipped into my head. Jabberwocky! Now there is a story of fearlessness. At one time I had that poem by Lewis Carrol memorized. Full of joy, adventure and delight.
It will be tomorrow, after a shower and clips and gel, before I know if I can shout "Callooh! Callay!" over the hair cut. Once I get it in order, and that may take some revision, I will take a picture and let you see.
looking on the bright side
I bought a new pair of sun glasses. Amber lenses, polarised, too. The description said the frames would work for someone with a big head : )... that would be me.
Backyard tree without the glasses...
The mesquite taken through the amber glasses... look how the greens glow!
I will someday have a granddaughter, right?
I love them... I mean I love looking at my world through them! They remind me of the amber lenses Bill had on a pair of ski glasses... he said you just could not have a bad day looking through them. These are the same. Greens and yellows nearly glow... shadows are deeper, so everything looks a bit more vivid.
Arizona is in bloom. Palo Verde's are awash with yellow flowers... the olives around my house (ah-ah-choo!) are covered with their own sage green adornment. And the leaves on the trees are twisting and dancing under the 10% humidity breeze that lets every watt of sun energy come shining through.
Backyard tree without the glasses...The mesquite taken through the amber glasses... look how the greens glow!What a visual shot in the arm!
And then later with the glasses off, watching what fun two boys can have when they have a "fighting party" which I discovered was all about doing cool ninja moves to music.
I will someday have a granddaughter, right? Friday, April 11, 2008
writing
I used to write things I loved to read. Words came out and like Cynthia Rylant, I hardly had to revise... just do a spell check...
but lately words appear in fits and jerks
half formed thoughts
garbled speech
What do I do? Rusty, I tell myself, blocked. Just keep saying what is in there as best you can.
Tell whatever it is you want to tell today. Who reads this blog anyway?
but lately words appear in fits and jerks
half formed thoughts
garbled speech
What do I do? Rusty, I tell myself, blocked. Just keep saying what is in there as best you can.
Tell whatever it is you want to tell today. Who reads this blog anyway?
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
love and marriage
I met my friend, Maria probably fifteen years ago. It was a couple of days before school started and as the librarian at the time, I needed to be there when the new teachers arrived.
She walked into my library wearing MC Hammer pants, a too big, tie-dyed t-shirt, and sporting a tied back in a pony-tail, mop of unruly dark blonde hair. I remember saying to Paula, "I am going to like that girl." She was an independent spirit.
Over the course of that first year, I came to know that my first prediction would hold true. I did like her. A lot. Maria was funny and kind, thoughtful and brave, soft and tough at the same time. I talked her into hiking with me and got us signed up on the hike from hell. She was young and mature beyond her years. She would quote Dr. Laura to me... and I would tell her, "for Christ's sake, my mother listens to Dr. Laura"... and she would laugh and say, well, she makes a lot of sense...
She met Jimmy about three years later, put him through the Dr. Laura test, (I rolled my eyes.) and married him ten years ago.
They have had some ups and at least two deep downs... harder times, I think than I would have withstood. Four years ago, they had a little girl, Angelina Rose... Maria and I think maybe William and Angelina should get married, so we can be related.
Yesterday was their tenth anniversary (tin or aluminum for those who care) and they renewed their vows. I was invited to attend.
And as they stood before the priest, I thought about what a brave thing they were doing. It is easy, the first time, when what you have seen is only the good side of a person, not knowing how damned hard it can be to promise to love and cherish... but the second time, when you know it has been tough and will no doubt be again.
So there they stood, promising these things to each other with this full set of knowledge and trying to get their wedding rings back on their hands that have swollen a bit over the years... and Maria got confused and gave Jim her right hand first, by mistake. Angelina danced around the entire time, telling us her mommy and daddy were getting married. The laughed and kissed and I cried a teeny bit.
Later, Jim sort-of admitted that the renewing the vows thing had been Maria's idea, but that he was in for the long haul and hoped they could share a bed until the day they died... unless one of the started to snore... but he withdrew that right away, since he figured the snorer might end up being him.
She walked into my library wearing MC Hammer pants, a too big, tie-dyed t-shirt, and sporting a tied back in a pony-tail, mop of unruly dark blonde hair. I remember saying to Paula, "I am going to like that girl." She was an independent spirit.
Over the course of that first year, I came to know that my first prediction would hold true. I did like her. A lot. Maria was funny and kind, thoughtful and brave, soft and tough at the same time. I talked her into hiking with me and got us signed up on the hike from hell. She was young and mature beyond her years. She would quote Dr. Laura to me... and I would tell her, "for Christ's sake, my mother listens to Dr. Laura"... and she would laugh and say, well, she makes a lot of sense...
She met Jimmy about three years later, put him through the Dr. Laura test, (I rolled my eyes.) and married him ten years ago.
They have had some ups and at least two deep downs... harder times, I think than I would have withstood. Four years ago, they had a little girl, Angelina Rose... Maria and I think maybe William and Angelina should get married, so we can be related.
Yesterday was their tenth anniversary (tin or aluminum for those who care) and they renewed their vows. I was invited to attend.
And as they stood before the priest, I thought about what a brave thing they were doing. It is easy, the first time, when what you have seen is only the good side of a person, not knowing how damned hard it can be to promise to love and cherish... but the second time, when you know it has been tough and will no doubt be again.
So there they stood, promising these things to each other with this full set of knowledge and trying to get their wedding rings back on their hands that have swollen a bit over the years... and Maria got confused and gave Jim her right hand first, by mistake. Angelina danced around the entire time, telling us her mommy and daddy were getting married. The laughed and kissed and I cried a teeny bit.
Later, Jim sort-of admitted that the renewing the vows thing had been Maria's idea, but that he was in for the long haul and hoped they could share a bed until the day they died... unless one of the started to snore... but he withdrew that right away, since he figured the snorer might end up being him.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Questionaire
I have a questionnaire to fill out on my desk. It is for the class reunion I will attend this summer. Barbara Walters would have tossed these questions aside as just toooo boring and incomplete.
I am a word person, I think. I get hung up on words. Wording in surveys has driven me crazy! One misplaced word in a Sunday sermon will cause me to stew for weeks. And when my poor boss talks to me... and she is really a nice person... I just cringe, because the words she uses set off a wild fire of internal chaos within me.
Name, address, e-mail are standard and I completely get those... but married? Are you currently married? Does it matter? Would I like to be? Would I avoid it at all costs? I answered, no. But that seems such an incomplete answer for such a big question.
Number of children... they want a number, right? Two, 2. But honestly, a number does not describe these two incredible very different women. 2 daughters, I write, wanting to say more... wanting to say that one knows exactly what will drive you crazy and enjoys getting you there and the other is so soft and private you want wrap her in tissue and tip-toe around her, that one is terrified of all things crawlie and the other is bent on over-coming any fear, that one calls me if she gets a hang nail and the other lives somewhere on another planet, in another world, and tries so hard to only tell me what she thinks I want to hear... Number? 2.
Number of grandchildren? Two again. Grandsons, I say. Four and two. I don't tell them that they attract dirt like strong magnets, that if I don't kiss them goodbye, when I leave they go into melt-down, that they are smart and skinny, and that the oldest one, when he is throwing a major temper tantrum moves his body with such grace that if it weren't so damned annoying, it would be beautiful.
Most interesting place you have lived? Oh, give me a break! Where have I lived for crying out loud? Clinton, Illinois; Metropolis, Illinois; Joppa, Illinois (hmmm, that might be the candidate... Joppa was so strange... but strange is not the same as interesting.); Haines City, Florida (that was pretty strange, too.); KC, Missouri; and Glendale, Arizona. I said Arizona, but I am uncertain about the interesting part.
Most interesting place you've visited. (Maybe it is the word "interesting" that is getting me hung up.) I said rafting the Alsek river from the Yukon to Dry Bay, Alaska... it was certainly the most spectacular. Gosh, Alaska is just so big! And there is nothing like being stripped down naked, except for your big knee-high rubber boots, trying to take a quick but thorough bath in a 45 degree snow-melt stream while praying a curious grizzly doesn't pay you a call. Oh, it was interesting all right.
Favorite thing to do (hobby) I listed outdoor things and indoor things... but it seemed so incomplete! And I did not mention blogging or writing, or poetry, or meditating. Ask me what I enjoy, what makes my heart sing. It is words. I found an Annie Dillard quote today about arithmetic, or science... or how crystals form... and it blew my socks off. I read gkgirl's blog and her poetry and I am silenced. All the other stuff is to get me ready to hear the words!
Who was your favorite teacher? Does this mean I liked them or that they influenced me? These things are not always the same. Sometimes the biggest pain of a teacher will move you farther than the nicest, most pleasant one... I listed two names. One a teacher who told me what I could not do (write) and the other, a teacher who told me what I could (art).
Best memory from high school... oh please!
And, my favorite, Personal information you wish to share... I wrote a one paragraph bio. Said in a sentence what I had been doing the last forty-one years. Said I was pretty happy. Said I was looking forward to retirement... all the safe regular stuff.
What do you say to people you haven't seen in 41 years? I am the same. I am completely different. The person you knew is both here and not here. I grew up and thank heaven, you did too.
I am a word person, I think. I get hung up on words. Wording in surveys has driven me crazy! One misplaced word in a Sunday sermon will cause me to stew for weeks. And when my poor boss talks to me... and she is really a nice person... I just cringe, because the words she uses set off a wild fire of internal chaos within me.
Name, address, e-mail are standard and I completely get those... but married? Are you currently married? Does it matter? Would I like to be? Would I avoid it at all costs? I answered, no. But that seems such an incomplete answer for such a big question.
Number of children... they want a number, right? Two, 2. But honestly, a number does not describe these two incredible very different women. 2 daughters, I write, wanting to say more... wanting to say that one knows exactly what will drive you crazy and enjoys getting you there and the other is so soft and private you want wrap her in tissue and tip-toe around her, that one is terrified of all things crawlie and the other is bent on over-coming any fear, that one calls me if she gets a hang nail and the other lives somewhere on another planet, in another world, and tries so hard to only tell me what she thinks I want to hear... Number? 2.
Number of grandchildren? Two again. Grandsons, I say. Four and two. I don't tell them that they attract dirt like strong magnets, that if I don't kiss them goodbye, when I leave they go into melt-down, that they are smart and skinny, and that the oldest one, when he is throwing a major temper tantrum moves his body with such grace that if it weren't so damned annoying, it would be beautiful.
Most interesting place you have lived? Oh, give me a break! Where have I lived for crying out loud? Clinton, Illinois; Metropolis, Illinois; Joppa, Illinois (hmmm, that might be the candidate... Joppa was so strange... but strange is not the same as interesting.); Haines City, Florida (that was pretty strange, too.); KC, Missouri; and Glendale, Arizona. I said Arizona, but I am uncertain about the interesting part.
Most interesting place you've visited. (Maybe it is the word "interesting" that is getting me hung up.) I said rafting the Alsek river from the Yukon to Dry Bay, Alaska... it was certainly the most spectacular. Gosh, Alaska is just so big! And there is nothing like being stripped down naked, except for your big knee-high rubber boots, trying to take a quick but thorough bath in a 45 degree snow-melt stream while praying a curious grizzly doesn't pay you a call. Oh, it was interesting all right.
Favorite thing to do (hobby) I listed outdoor things and indoor things... but it seemed so incomplete! And I did not mention blogging or writing, or poetry, or meditating. Ask me what I enjoy, what makes my heart sing. It is words. I found an Annie Dillard quote today about arithmetic, or science... or how crystals form... and it blew my socks off. I read gkgirl's blog and her poetry and I am silenced. All the other stuff is to get me ready to hear the words!
Who was your favorite teacher? Does this mean I liked them or that they influenced me? These things are not always the same. Sometimes the biggest pain of a teacher will move you farther than the nicest, most pleasant one... I listed two names. One a teacher who told me what I could not do (write) and the other, a teacher who told me what I could (art).
Best memory from high school... oh please!
And, my favorite, Personal information you wish to share... I wrote a one paragraph bio. Said in a sentence what I had been doing the last forty-one years. Said I was pretty happy. Said I was looking forward to retirement... all the safe regular stuff.
What do you say to people you haven't seen in 41 years? I am the same. I am completely different. The person you knew is both here and not here. I grew up and thank heaven, you did too.
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