Dandy Walker

September 10 is Long Gone

2011-12-25T09:27:00.000-07:00

I was actually worried that I wouldn't know my password to the blog. That's sad.
9:15 AM here and the household has long-since settled back into a stupor. Christmas morning lasted from about 6:30 - 7:30.
Delighted to report that I have my two Christmas breakfast standards: the cheeseball my mom used to make, and cranberry-orange bread. Of course, the cheeseball recipe has been reduced to 3 critical ingredients that don't need measuring, and it's just spooned into dishes now, not carefully molded like Mother did. Oh, and the cranberry bread? From a mix, I'm afraid, with a healthy handful of pecans added.
Both are acceptable alternatives to the labor-intensive versions. Delicious, even. (Not that I wouldn't welcome the real things.)
Last night was spent around the bagna cauda again, as last year. If you don't remember what that stuff if, you could look it up. It's good, in a once-a-year kind of way.
We also played taboo, and even Rose did a great job for her team.
For the evening party, Rose insisted on wearing her fancy dress, tights and new dress shoes. Then she earnestly turned to me and asked, "Can I choose my own jewels?" She had plenty to choose from, thanks to her Aunt Teenie, and loaded on several necklaces and a couple of bracelets. She stopped short of a tiara but we put a giant bow on her hair.
My throat hurts, in a raw way like I've been shouting. And smoking glass shards.
There has been a guilty throat here in the household for a couple of weeks and I think it's spreading.
Rose sounded suspiciously hoarse this morning and said her throat felt a little weird.
The Avalanche tickets I got for Andy will have to be passed on to someone else. I bought them before he was gainfully employed.
That's right, gainfully employed. At a movie theater. We are all very happy about this.
Grades? So far acceptable.
No point in trying to catch up from September. We are happy here on Christmas Day, and hope you are too.

Pears

2011-09-18T19:03:00.000-06:00

I worked on this piece today and I guess it's finished. I used several techniques that were part of my summer online painting class, including the basic composition. I had already used most of the techniques before, just not together.

Miscellaneous

2011-08-27T07:55:00.000-06:00

Rose has a cold, after a week of school. She's biserable.
Speaking of a week of school, it's not clear if she is feeling accepted in her class. I am hoping she was just tired and achy as the cold descended, but she has been very reticent about her classmates and her teacher. I am REALLY NEEDING this not to be a repeat of third grade.
After an earthquake, Irene visits my friends on the east coast. Thinking of them and hoping it's just a big rain storm.
Art club today- it seems like forEVer since I've spent uninterrupted time just playing. I am very excited about this. We are working with plaster gauze- yes, that's right, the stuff they used to use for broken arms. It's going to be messy fun!
We had to have our sweet boy Rex- a.k.a. Arfie- put to sleep this week, as his cancer had invaded everywhere and he was failing. Needless to say this has made it hard to be home.
The last time we had to do this, we did not have Rose or even Andy. Rex was 14, and lived with us for almost as long as Andy has. The personal devastation now has an added dimension as I grieve with my children. Very, very painful.
But let's not talk about that any more.
My new job is keeping me on my toes as I face the challenges of coaching teachers both willing and unwilling, addressing large groups with little or no prep time, working on the district science website, mixing it up with the "suits" of the district on a regular basis (hence the new clothes) and spending a surprising amount of time with my head in professional literature. I am enjoying it very much. I could, however, do without the record heat wave, as I spend a lot of time in my car.
Andy has changed high schools, after spending the summer trying to decide. He chose a smaller school, with more emphasis on and access to sports, somewhat less rigorous academics, and a really stellar audio/visual lab. He does not seem to have second-guessed this decision. He and I attended his back-to-school night on Thursday, and it was apparent that he has already made an impression (good, so far!) on his teachers.
Book club is coming here next week! I haven't had my friends here in some time, and it does seem like forever since I had my head in the game. A year or so of depression robbed me of the joy of reading, and hosting my friends was kind of a last-minute thing the last couple of times. Sadly, one of the most memorable events was hosting them when I neither did my own cooking NOR read my own book choice. Not so this time. I did spend some time choosing the book- The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie- and I did read it.
I liked the beginning of the book, mostly because of the voice. The main character is a quirky 11 year old amateur sleuth/gifted chemist. Deeper into the book, plot takes over and the author doesn't have quite the zing in the prose, but I did enjoy it. It's a 3, "Tell a Friend," on a scale of 1-5.
I still haven't come up with a menu. I remember the first time I hosted the book club I spent about a month researching recipes that fit the book. Many, many times, I have subsequently ordered take-out, without apology. I am not an especially enthusiastic cook, and I am a nervous hostess.
Very few friends make it into my house, because I am also a sloppy housekeeper who nevertheless wants to impress. If I am hosting an event, I want the place to look its best, which requires more effort than I generally exert. I think the book club suspects the truth, however, after a decade of friendship...
Anyway. It'll probably be takeout again, but I did arrange for the cleaning lady to come on the same day. Ha.
I HAVE TO GO TO THE DENTIST THAT AFTERNOON, TOO. Timing is everything. Yep, it'll probably be takeout again.

A Little Knowledge

2011-08-15T19:54:00.001-06:00

I hear a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Today in a meeting with a principal I piped up with a concept I had just been reading about- just STARTED reading about- and I seem to have talked myself into giving a two hour presentation about it. In two days.

I'm not sure that's exactly what the originator of the saying meant (the internet says it showed up first in Alexander Pope's writings), but that's what it means to me today.

An equally meaningful lesson would be "keep your trap shut," which this same principal has suggested to me (wisely, with respect and humor) time and again in advance of these types of meetings.

Broke Down

2011-08-07T19:05:00.000-06:00

Well I broke down and bought new clothes. Now I will have no worries about dressing professionally for my new job.
Um, four dresses, a jacket, a pair of slacks, one blouse and a pair of shoes.
Is that bad?
What would Thoreau say?!!!!!
In other news, Bronc Day was small town fun. The parade was kind of sweet, although a pitiful shadow of its glory days.
Rose was pleased that dogs were in it, dressed in costumes. She immediately started planning a parade on Raleigh St. with dogs.
This parade is going to require us to buy two chihuahuas and a poodle, and it turns out that I HAVE the heart to tell her that's not going to happen.
The big draw was the creek, where she and her cousin and friends from Texas spent most of the day.
I laughed as the Texas parents gradually reversed their creek policies: "Stay OUT of the water." "Ian slipped and got his shoe wet." "DAD slipped and got his shoe wet." until finally they broke down and both boys were in, shoes off and shorts getting dipped.
I do remember the boys' mother spending all day playing in the creek when we were kids, and she was pragmatic about it yesterday.
I don't remember my mother telling me to stay out of it, although I do remember stories about my grandmother telling HER to stay out of it.
Playing in that creek is one of my own childhood's most enduring memories, so let's just carry on the tradition, shall we?

Dress Professionally

2011-08-05T06:57:00.000-06:00

What does this mean? I think I'm doing it now in my new job, and I haven't had to buy anything yet, so I guess I'm covered (ha) on the Thoreau front.
“I say, beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes.” — Henry David Thoreau
Anyway, my point is I'd rather spend the time thinking about the work than the clothes, but at 7AM and no real plan, the "dress professionally" mandate is slowing me down.
More on the job later. I love it.

Mt. Princeton Retreat

2011-07-24T09:30:00.000-06:00

With just a few days left of official summer vacation, it was time to take a, well, a vacation.

Mt. Princeton seemed like a nice idea.

Five of us were able to go. We rented a cabin and stayed for two nights. We brought dinners and drinks, so the pressure was absolutely off.

We stayed at a hot springs resort. Chalk Creek runs right through the hot springs so we climbed over the rocks and alternately boiled and froze in the mixing water.

Liz and Courtney

Kelly. Also featuring my pink toes.

Leann, and some strangers. Nice view of the creek though.

After we experienced that novelty, we decided to go for the relaxation pool, which has water that is all the same temperature. It also bars anyone under 17, which we thought was grand. We teachers have to take our breaks when we can. There were three little hot pools, and one large pool that was comfortably warm.

The next day, we went to St. Elmo, a well-preserved ghost town. It was situated close to mines and to an important railroad tunnel, so it was a supply town.

Then we took a short hike up to a stream. Leann sampled the water and it was COLD.

This is about the only picture there is of me. Notice that I am so happy I am glowing.

Back at the cabin we all read our books, chatted and napped. Lovely! We had deer walk past out window each morning. Kelly got great pictures, including the baby fawn who was impossibly cute and spotted. I didn't get pics- I need to pirate those!

Then Leann discovered a hummingbird nest just about five feet off our balcony!

She was a very good mama, and didn't seem worried about us at all.

You can see a tiny egg. They were about the size of Tic Tacs!

What would I change about this trip? I would get the morning coffee right, and I would get more and better pictures. Overall, a huge success!

Tree Wrangling

2011-07-12T20:08:00.001-06:00

We got three estimates on taking down this tree.

All of the companies said it was the biggest box elder they'd ever seen.
Two companies said take it down immediately. One said it had a couple more years.

We are glad we decided to take it down. Box elder is heavy hardwood, and our neighbors' homes are very close.

Here's what it looked like by 4 PM.

And here they are cutting the final wedge to drop the main trunk.

Here's the diameter.

Rose got to see a brand new baby robin.

They saved that portion of the tree and built a temporary tree with the ladder. We could hear the mother robin later in the evening and are hopeful the two were reunited.

The crew was just a great bunch of guys.

Summer Reading Intensive.

2011-07-07T07:39:00.002-06:00

but first...

Owen Wilson may be this generation's Woody Allen.
Yikes.
I know, I know, he's far less geeky. But he is just as quirky and just as overly reflective.
Saw their new movie "Midnight in Paris" and found it to be intelligent and delightful.
I have referred to Rose's summer intensive and should probably be more clear. She is attending Lindamood Bell learning systems for reading help.
It is 1:1 tutoring with very clear, very specific learning targets and a systematic model which essentially repatterns some brain processes. (They don't say that, but I think that's what's going on, with 240 hours of intense and repeated exercise.)
I expect that she will have gained somewhere around a year to a year and a half in her decoding and comprehension. (I am trying to be conservative. It is possible to research the program on the web and find far more dramatic results.)
She has about two weeks to go, so at 6 hours a day, that is still 60 more hours of really intense work. She may move more by the end.
They have about 4 hours of evaluations at the beginning and end of their work, so the reports are very valuable for the regular school.
It is quite an investment, but we have seen good results. They have services lined up to help with financing. We are very fortunate that there is a center close to us and that we can find a way to pay for the program. It is certainly not within everyone's reach, but I thought I would describe it in case it can help someone.
And why not go take in that movie, just for grins?

Bullets

2011-07-06T09:33:00.000-06:00

Getting an oil change and breakfast burrito at the SAME PLACE.
Rose has two weeks left of her summer intensive. Today she read the word "complete," which fascinated me. I think this was a great move, although she certainly won't be up to grade level.
Just finished the book Cutting For Stone, and rated it a 5 out of 5. It has been a year or so since I rated a book so highly.
Also reading Little Bee, which is fascinating, very well-crafted and depressing as hell.
But not yet finished, so there is still hope.
Planning a retreat to a mountain hot springs.
Painting pretty consistently, and I don't mean Rose's bedroom, although I need to help with that, too.
Have not found an art workshop that I really want to attend this summer, but I may attend one anyway, which isn't quite the media I want.

OT and PT for Dandy Kids

2011-06-23T08:19:00.000-06:00

One of you lovely blog visitors asked for help with a 19 month-old. I don't have a clear understanding of how severe the balance/coordination challenges are. I guess the best advice is to take your cues from the baby, build on what he seems to like, and keep safety in mind always. (I found that I tended to over-protect, and still do. Maybe you have a trusted friend who will tell you the truth about "hovering," but still, err on the side of safety.)

I am of course not an expert. If you don't have therapy with OT/PT, etc. ask your pediatrician to help with research and referrals- that's what they are for! Our pediatrician's office has a social worker who helps us with resources. If you don't have a case worker, you could try asking the local school district to help you find one. Contact the special ed department and ask to speak to someone who works in "Child Find." Tell them your child is not yet 3, and you need assistance with evaluations and therapies- could they put you in touch with a community centered board.

Our little girl started OT and PT at 4 months old. (She started Speech/Language at 9 months old, not that anyone was working on speech. They were just trying to wake up her mouth, with chewies and electric toothbrushes. They worked a lot on receptive language, of course.) We didn't know she had sensory integration disorder. We just knew that she had poor strength and flexibility.

As time passed and we saw how upsetting certain input was for her, the therapies became two-pronged: build up her strength and dexterity, and soothe her by providing more of the type of input she sought (in her case, joint and muscle input) and desensitizing her to the type of input she avoided (tactile sensations, bright light and heat, busy visual fields and certain sounds). If your baby exhibits distress consistently in certain situations, take the time to start a log and see if you can isolate the triggers. If you have an OT, she can do an inventory to help you.

Anyway, sometimes the things that babies love turn out to be what they need. Rose LOVED her pacifier. Now, at 10 years old, she still needs a chewie sometimes. She loved her little baby jumper, and loved her baby swing. Those things were replicated in the complex hospital gym where we spent so much time. (Trampoline, ceiling mounted swings.) So if you are trying to work on balance, sometimes a lot of gravitational input is just the thing. If your little guy likes to swing, see if your local playground has one of the bucket seats and pop him in there. If he DOESN'T like to swing, try de-sensitizing him very slowly and gently, like with a hammock or rocking chair.

I think it is important to keep the babies out of baby carriers as much as possible. They cut off their peripheral vision, which is part of what helps them develop balance and gravitational security.

Of course balance also requires core strength. Our PT had us do wheelbarrow-walking with Rose. Just hold his little legs while he is on his tummy and see if he will try to move forward on his hands. You can also do lots of rolling and tumbling, with assistance. A disk-type swing is probably too much for a toddler, but you can see how hanging on to a single rope and using the legs to keep the seat level would be great for building up core strength. The hospital gym had pads on the floor and all kinds of safety belts. If you don't have access to that kind of facility, improvise or look online for soft helmets, etc.

One book that really helped us is called The Out of Sync Child. This is actually for kids with sensory integration disorder, but there are a lot of gross motor activities in it. We also did take our little girl to "gymnastics" very early. Just observe at the facility and make sure they understand and embrace all types of kids. Our people knew that Rose was not there to become an Olympic competitor.

Anyway, this seems kind of general. I hope it is helpful. I think the main thing is to keep the kid engaged in interesting things around him so he is motivated to go get it, and of course always, always keep safety in mind.

Boys Town

2011-05-29T17:29:00.000-06:00

In a dramatic departure from bridal showers, the bachelorette party is a walk on the wild side. Not for the faint of heart. Not for old people. I was concerned that it didn't START until seven o'clock- horrors! Well... that was just round one. Round two, the main course, so to speak, didn't start until TEN o'clock. I am so lame.

Bride-to-be, in hot pants.

We relocated from the very hip bar, Delite, to the tawdry gay joint, Boys Town. Possibly even "Boyz Town." They had saved us tables right by the stage!

That's right, folks, a pole.

The bouncer was absolutely sweet. He totally commiserated with my friend Kim about the picture on her driver's license. He hates his, too. Everybody had to have two drinks (there's no cover charge) so Courtney bought us pitchers of beer.

Chance came around and introduced himself. I thought he might be the owner; he was so genuinely happy to have all of us there. A bodybuildin' fool, is Chance, with a perpetual smile and hugs for all. Oh, but there is more to Chance than meets the eye. That is, the rest of Chance met our eyes a little later.

The first performer looked barely old enough to be in there, and, as Becky said, looked like he might have been the dishwasher or the cook, commandeered to do the opening act. There was nothing sexy about him.
The second and third performers were equally silly, and may I just point out here that all of them LEFT THEIR SOCKS ON. That is just way too Risky Business to be anything but sophomoric. Then our friend Chance came down the stage. He at least had fabulous muscles. But his sweet, constant smile makes him too cute to be sexy.

Anyway. None of them stripped down to nothing. Courtney did tip them, and wished audibly for hand sanitizer afterwards. There were also several barely controlled fits of giggling. I mostly wished I was sleeping.

I knew it would be blogworthy.

Here's the baby

2011-05-27T05:00:00.000-06:00

Not home yet, but together finally.

We All Scream

2011-05-26T20:05:00.000-06:00

Today I accidentally agreed to help chaperone Rose's fourth grade classes to the park for their ice cream social. Then I scooped ice cream, picked up trash, passed out water, knocked some heads together and twitched.

What do you think?

2011-05-26T15:36:00.000-06:00

Just more to share

2011-05-24T20:32:00.000-06:00

I kissed a girl.

I bought a bike.

I drank Moroccan sweet tea.

I am waiting for their new baby to come home with them.

AWARDS DAY

2011-05-24T14:36:00.000-06:00

Rose got a reading award!

The rest of us got parking tickets.

Coincidence?

And in other news...

2011-05-24T09:58:00.000-06:00

Doomsday preacher revises his math
Massive tornado breaks grim 60-year record
Palin insider releases tell-all
Aniston debuts new 'do

Coincidence?

Swan Lake

2011-05-16T04:56:00.000-06:00

Did I tell you about the time Rose was walking around in circles flapping her arms?
I had asked her repeatedly to pick up her toys and she walked and walked and walked past me. Finally when my tone brooked no more silence, she said, "No."
That's right.
"No." She said, "Swans don't clean up."
On her next pass, she fluttered her fingertips at me and said, "Swans have wings."
And that's why it's tough to argue with her, folks.

today

2011-05-05T07:58:00.000-06:00

Cinco de Mayo, by the way.
I started my celebrations by ramming my knee forcefully into my desk.

Barfie Arfie

2011-05-04T04:46:00.001-06:00

I have noticed that it's not so important to be tan. Not like it was when I was a kid. One of my younger colleagues mildly ripped on an older one, "Visiting the cancer coffin?" and sure enough, K. had been to the tanning bed. C., the younger, is fair as fair can be and never thinks twice about white legs. She is beautiful and stylish always, and it has never, ever occurred to me that her legs are too white to be on display.

I have noticed with some annoyance that our dog has learned how to fake like he is gagging. He does it because he knows we will rush to let him out, and the thing is, you don't want to wait around to find out if the gag is real or fake. He's getting older and a little eccentric. What he wants to do is sleep- on the couch if possible- all the time, but if we are standing up, he thinks he should be standing up as well. Standing up makes him want to eat, or go outside. So we have to let him out every few minutes if we aren't sitting down to a task. Very tricky, hack, hack.

Noticing also that my harmless little bouncing marbles games make the computer freeze, while Andy's kill-everthing-that-moves games can go on for seventeen hours.

May Day

2011-05-01T13:45:00.001-06:00

If only I had dropped off anonymous baskets of flowers around the neighborhood. No, the best I can say about today is that the lawn is being mowed- surely a good sign. Also, it snowed some yesterday but did not stick.

Rose, the almost-ten-year-old and frankly-scary-packrat is working right now with the professional organizer who has been attached to the family for several months. As she likes to say, we can't afford NOT to get organized, but in answer to your question, yes, it's kind of expensive. The 15 hour contract is running out after today, but I will reschedule. My own tendency is to avoid the work, so having someone arrive every few weeks has really been worthwhile.

In other news... there isn't much. I did not get up to watch the royal wedding. I have not been birdwatching or made any new art. Although I don't feel much like reviewing it here, I have read The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks and recommend it. I have finished a class for 3 semester hours and nearly finished another, but will probably stop after this one, for a while. School is out in just over 2 weeks. Next year I will work at a district level job.

My hands...

2011-03-20T11:13:00.000-06:00

...are covered with ink and peeling layers of gel medium, but damn my feet look good.
I have a little weakness for the pedicure.

I have never

2011-03-19T07:03:00.000-06:00

been to the U.K. or France or Spain or Australia.. ..but I HAVE been to Mexico and Canada and even to Greece and to Japan
been hang-gliding or scuba diving or bungee jumping... but I HAVE been hanging off the face of a cliff and sliding down a glacier with an ice axe
read poetry at a tea house or sung karaoke at some bar... can-canned onstage, and cried and intoned and danced in I-Dream-of-Jeanie costumes
had my writing published or my music recorded... had my art hung in a gallery, and had my voice heard when it mattered
lived in a hovel or a castle or a biosphere... lived for timeless hours in magic places away from the rest of the world

The thing is, sometimes it's easy to forget what you have when you think you should have it all.

On Self-Discipline

2011-03-11T05:38:00.000-07:00

I can't think of anything.
Ha. Just kidding.
There have been a few accomplishments in my life which appear to have been achieved by sheer determination. I lost a lot of weight once.
I made it through the teaching certification program.
Getting the children required patience. A lot of paperwork, and a lot of suffering of fools. It did not require self-discipline except to the extent that I had to curtail the sarcastic remarks.
Washing my daughter's hair night after night appears to be a task which is calling for simple gritting of teeth.
So the thing is, I really HAVE to take a few bad habits out of my life.
Caffeine. So far, so good. One cup in the morning, period. I am trying to switch out to decaf, and from there maybe just nothing?
Exercise. My knees are painfully problematic right now, so I have that as another excuse in my elaborate list of excuses, but this is becoming a non-negotiable.
Natural light. Faithful readers know this is big for me.
Consistent sleep habits. This may make faithful readers scoff, as you know that I am a 10-12 hour per night sleeper. The truth is, though, that has not been the case for over a year, and I succomb day after day to heavy, drugged-like, hours-long naps. It's actually distressing.
My mother, (known for decades now as Muth, short for Muth-head, which should be spelled mOth, except that spells "moth" and that's not how it is pronounced) has more self-discipline than anyone I know. At 75, she walks with a friend about 10 miles or so per week, plus has a strength training program that she completes at home.
I asked her to help me, knowing that she would take it seriously, and she has already begun.
She has sent me a brief article, with a simple exercise program, and she accompanied this missive with a phone call. I admire her very much for her commitment to me.
But she can't do it for me.

Natural Park

2011-02-26T05:24:00.000-07:00

Awake at 1:00.
Awake at 2:00.
Reading at 3:00.
Eating toast and drinking coffee at 4:00.
We have some raspberry preserves on hand, here. I'm not sure why we have them; the others prefer strawberry, and I don't care for the seeds in the raspberry. Sometimes I buy seedless. The last time I actually made raspberry preserves, I strained out half the seeds. In any case, I put some on my 4AM toast this morning.
And the FIRST TASTE took me to Natural Park.
When we were kids growing up in the mountains, a few times every summer we would walk up and down, through some fields, zigzagging down the sides of hills, and end up in a glen that our friends the Sanborns had named Natural Park.
Actually, it might have been the Cusacks who named it that.
Anyway. Such an imaginative name.
The thing is, wild raspberries grew there. We would bring pots- the weight of the berries themselves crushed the juice out of the first layer, so baskets, although picturesque, were not appropriate for the job. It was usually hot, always scratchy, and sort of sticky and staining. Anyway, then we would bring the berries home and if there were enough, Mother would make preserves.
All kinds of stories sprang from the place. Myth, for sure, is the one I told about encountering a bear there; certainly that one borrowed heavily from Blueberries for Sal. Not that we did NOT encounter bears growing up; we did. And I told that story enough that I can almost believe it.
All of this, friends, from a piece of toast at 4AM. Try it. Who knows what will happen to you?

So I thought I had an appointment...

2011-02-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

The appointment fell through, so I went to the studio, speaking of guilty pleasures. I finished a new piece, and took some pics of older stuff.

Cherry Blossoms- transfer technique with water color

The newest

a wild older collage

Guilty Pleasures

2011-02-23T18:55:00.001-07:00

I am listening to a cd that I made called "Guilty Pleasures."
Do I have your attention?
Yours, in particular, Madame Librarian?
Among several other artists currently nameless but the information is FOR SALE, on this cd is music by:

The Jackson 5

Tom Jones singing "What's New Pussycat?"

The Monkees

I turned it on in order to overcome both lethargy and EXTREME IRRITATION, and I must say it is doing the trick nicely.
Tom Jones especially. hiLARious.
p.s. what the HELL is Michael WEARING? daisy gym shorts over pants? Just asking.

Dining Out

2011-02-20T04:17:00.001-07:00

I went to a health education class last week and we watched a Jamie Oliver video on TED. In the course of becoming almost apoplectic about the state of America's diet, he pointed out that in general, Americans are not passing down a food culture in their homes.
The implications are: the next generation won't know how to cook, the next generations won't have family recipes as part of their heritage, and the additive/high fat/high sugar processed food industry will work its insidious way into our health care industry.
At least, those are the implications to me.
I know very well how important it is to dine together. We are guilty of missing the sit-down meal most nights, although at least the kids have and know the ritual of setting the table, saying what they are thankful for, clearing and cleaning afterwards.
I did become very, very lax about food preparation, in the course of years-long depression.
I have unloaded ten boxes- YES, TEN BOXES!- of unneeded kitchen and dining wares, and am amazed at how much easier it is to cook. Not that I have resurrected a nightly homecooked meal, and not that I have resurrected a weekend shopping and chopping ritual. But there is hope.
Meanwhile, dining out at probably a very swank restaurant on Monday night- TOMORROW!- with an old friend.

Several Universal Truths

2011-01-29T17:40:00.000-07:00

I read this wildly successful blog which is packed full of life lessons. Usually the posts have a number in the title, like "Five Ways to Embrace the Present," or "12 Dozen Ways to Ruin Your Own Life, and One Way to Win."
I'm sure you know the kind.
So I thought, I am SURE I can pass on some UNIVERSAL truths and fundamental values.
And then, I thought, uh, no, I can't.

But let me try:

Just because your mother likes it doesn't mean it's art.
The only thing you don't have to tolerate is intolerance.
Oh! Here's one! Just because your husband hates it doesn't mean it ISN'T art.
Ha!
If someone asks you if they can help you, they mean it. Let them.
Sometimes other people are actually right, and you are wrong. Sorry.
Oh. And how about: you don't have to be good at everything.
It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you happen to live near him.
That last shamelessly lifted from Tolkien, but it resonated with me the first time I read it, at about age 12, so I say go with it.

Anything you can work with here?

The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius

2011-01-23T21:07:00.002-07:00

POSSIBLY a little crabby.

So last summer, when we went to the downtown aquarium and realized that to get in would cost $75, we decided to buy their family membership. After standing in a twenty minute line listening to blaring and frankly nasty music, I paid (???!!!) for the opportunity to return to the place for a year- it was about $150 for the four of us- AND THEY DID NOT HAVE ANY MEMBERSHIP CARDS. AND THEIR CAMERA WAS BROKEN. AND THEY DID NOT HAVE ANY GUEST VOUCHERS. So the guy told me to save my receipt, and I did.

Anyway, today was our first trip back to the aquarium, and I was absolutely prepared for them to have no record of my membership. I was pleasantly surprised when they found me in their computer, and neither pleased nor surprised when we then had to stand in a 20 minute line to get the membership cards. But eventually we made it in.

The aquarium actually does have a pretty nice design, but jeez, making your way through feels like a trip down route 66. "See!!! 80 foot tall jackalope!!!" They have decided that pretty much everything in there is an opportunity to hawk some crap. There is ACTUALLY A SIGN UNDERWATER advertising scuba lessons. You can pan for gold en route, for $3.50. There is a seat on a barrel and you can stick a quarter in to get your feet massaged. You can buy a stuffed otter after the first fifty feet of the exhibit.

(note: the installation of this aquarium was very, very controversial here in our land-locked city, for many reasons, not the least of which was the addition of TIGERS (because they are so, you know, aquatic) and the original owners were unsuccessful. It was acquired by the owners of a well-known seafood restaurant corporation. Imagine that.)

Once you emerge from the aquarium, you can: ascend a climbing wall: $5. Get your face painted: $3. Touch a horseshoe crab, or feed something, I forget what: $2. Eat a pretzel, or a snowcone, or some other ghastly stuff. $500.00

Then, to get out, you HAVE to pass through a gift shop, or you can eat at the actual restaurant, for $500. At the gift shop, you can purchase any number of Barbie Mermaids. See below- kind of a cool restaurant, if you like bad service and $500 food.

Plus, outside, you can go into some shaking, vertigo machine for an extra charge.

Finally, the only restrooms in the 3 story facility are in the basement. To get to them, you have to, you know, pass through the climbing wall/face painting place, pass the restaurant, go through the gift shop, and then go through THE BAR.

Great place for families, folks.

Dang it? Where's the bison?

2011-01-20T17:48:00.000-07:00

All hail Wyoming.

This mountain man is hailing a Native American man who is greeting him with a gift. That's how it is out west.

Rose needed a walking pole inside the state capitol.

The rotunda.

Senators eating box lunches while we watch from the gallery.

All of Wyoming's residents approach the capitol building to celebrate MLK Jr. Day.

A lot of big boots are on street corners in Cheyenne.

This was where we had lunch, in a converted trolley car which had been a diner SINCE 1926.

And no, I do not ordinarily say either "diner" or "Wyoming" in the same sentence as "luxury."

Luxurious condiments.

I guess the senator took that picture of us with my phone.

Latest

2011-01-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

So the latest is that winter arrived- we had a beautiful, Christmas-y snow.
Also spinouts, wrecks and 90 minute commute times.
Fortunately no one we know was a spinout or a wreck.
Rose and I bopped up to the cowboy state on Monday and celebrated Martin Luther King Day there.
We went to the state capitol, got our photograph taken by an American Bison (not ALIVE, silly).
Ok. The photograph was not taken BY THE BISON ITSELF. They have hooves.
It was taken by a senator.
And we were NEAR a bison. Behind plexiglas.
Um, also the teen has been avoiding trouble for the last 10 days.
I was invited to, get this, an ORGANIZING PARTY.
Hostess claims she invited ALL her friends, that the invite was not to be taken as some kind of categorization.
huh.
It's not that we are going to go to her home to organize it, although that idea has merit, come to think of it.
It's like a tupperware party. To get organized.
huh.
Anyway, it is at the home of a flippin' delightful mom, and I will have a great time regardless.
(And can I tell you that she wants to get organized because she is too slavishly adherent to her organizing systems?!!! What the...? She says they have become gods unto themselves, these systems.)
(So I said, that is why you are never invited to my home, Liz. It's a GODLESS WASTELAND.)

Kate called me "Family"

2010-12-29T13:04:00.000-07:00

The teen at his best.

Sammy: I'm not leaving you alone until you put me on Andy's team.

Hot chocolate before the big game.

Pat: I'm not playing pitcher for nothing.

Please note birdfeeders in the infield. Note also the ponderosas in the outfield.

Aidan: Pat! I'm gonna smite you. Laurie: Who says smite? The son of Aidan, that's who.

Neil: I'm just scared of slipping on these bases.

This is why Laurie devised the "fair" teams of Everybody Else vs. Sammy.

Chris: Mo! Little bit lefter!

Chris: (pant, pant)

Kate:(on deck, and passing off her BEER) Sammy. Hold this.

Neil (quietly, to himself): I hate that game.


Of course the ball got stuck in a tree. Ponderosa: one. Andy: zero. Someone else did valiantly chuck a birdfeeder up after it. Ponderosa: two.

Patrick (bowling a rock into tree): Let me show you how it's done.

Kate: It's just a flesh wound.

It got dark, so the crowd switched to glow-in-the-dark ultimate frisbee. It was not long, though, before...

Laura: The frisbee is in the tree?

Bridget (matter of factly): No. It's on the roof.

Neil to Pat: I'll be the cherry picker now and you can run your tail off. Pat: Here's that palm island in Dubai, and here's my pod on the two-story plane, and here's the machine that vends GOLD INGOTS.

Laurie loves Kate.

Some stuff I've certainly been taking for granted

2010-12-29T08:30:00.001-07:00

I grew up with this view, and it's only about 75 minutes away.

She's a nature baby for sure. She would gladly have stayed for another 2-3 hours.

Certainly have not appreciated how stable our family is and was.

He's freezing, and he's pondering how he would tackle the technical climbing. He's involved in plenty of emotional climbing, but he's a great kid. I know it, because Kate told me so.


He's not just indulging his Mom for this picture. He is so great with his sister.	Wish you were here.

Late in the evening

2010-12-29T07:24:00.000-07:00

Dinner for 18. This room held ages 10 and up.

Welcomed into the fold, as was the unicorn. Indeed, he proved to be something of an entry ticket. No one needed an explanation, no one needed help understanding her. Little girls all embraced her as-is, but interacted with her with an intuitive wisdom and grace that is not just uncommon, but uncanny in little children.

This is the girls' annex. When their mamas, papas, aunties, uncles had helped them with their plates, they said their own version of grace ("thank-you's") unprompted, and with simple insight and sincerity.

After dinner Balderdash. About 24 years ago, I sat at this same table, playing the same game, with his father.

Yikes. These two together keep everyone vigilant. Liam on left is insanely high in energy and fond of jokes of a practical nature. Aidan on the right is intelligent, articulate and wickedly funny.

Just look at the pursed lips. He is ramping up for some kind of editorial remark.

Mo is tattling on one of the littlest girls. I noted to her parents that this little one, Bridget, is unusually insightful and incredibly sweet and sensitive. Mo is sharing how Bridget had BEEN MAKING PRANK PHONE CALLS. That's just how this family is...

One of my best friends EVER, but over the years, and spending as much time as I have with the various configurations of the family, my interactions with her are only slightly more intimate than they are with any of them.

Patriarch, in a very familiar pose. One of those annoying people who completes crosswords in pen. I'm sure he realizes it's his legacy, this buoyant, authentic, wholly hospitable, supportive, articulate, energetic and dangerously witty clan.

I almost deleted this, as I felt the looks on both their faces were unnerving.

... but that made Chris laugh so hard that I kept it.

Here's something

2010-12-29T06:55:00.001-07:00

Pleased with this EXCEPT for overall size. Something has been telling me for close to a year to work larger, and something else keeps saying "no."

This piece is mounted on 12x12 wood panel, with four smaller panels carrying the main images. It has "citra-solved" Nat'l Geo pages, phone book pages, a really exciting photo tranfer technique that I devised all by myself, although I assume it's pedestrian to more experienced artists, the elongated triangles that are featured time after time in my work, and it has text, of course, with vigorous words attesting to the power of wild places.

Showing examples of the photo transfer technique. It's parts of the same photo, but they are layered over different background paper. The detail is surprising, when you can see it live.

In the above, anything that looks sort of melted, IS, in fact, melted. Solvent on ink from magazine images. This image also shows a triangle made of really decorative paper, that elicited a comment from my first and most powerful mentor- just a passing comment, but it started with, "One thing Laurie's really good at..." This was wildly affirming.

He's one reason the thing feels so cramped, but as far as the composition, group (and I) agreed he's integral.

Now you can see the background paper for portion on the left.

Background paper on the right very plain. This also shows some accenting with silver.

So next, I need to figure out how to do the photo transfer on a much larger scale, to see if I can get rid of that cramped feeling. I don't mind the viewer interacting with it very closely, as I said- the detail is unbelievable- but I do mind it that they HAVE to.

This piece is so very satisfying because it was created wholly "in the zone"- start to finish in 4 hours. I love the composition, I love the elements that I could not control (some of the papers are altered with solvent), I love that it has text, a theme of man's eternal tussle with both harvesting and protecting natural resources, I love the dimension, I love the subtle interplay of verticality with the tangled branches, and most of all, the photograph itself is profoundly sentimental. I love it.

Blind?

2010-12-26T21:18:00.001-07:00

I know all of us filter the world through our own lenses. And then when you add in blinders, it's a wonder any of us can ever see anything the same way.
I do fortunately have a couple of people willing to point out my prejudices. And regarding the blinders, I am delighted to report that mine are metablinders. In other words, I am blind to my blinders.

Isn't that funny? Oh, wait, if you're reading this, you must know me, and if you know me, you don't find it funny at all, do you?

Stupid Economies

2010-12-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

When preparing for my big summer trip to NYC, one of the little details I had not handled was buying post card stamps. I did have some Forever stamps.
On the last afternoon, I was eager to get to a certain museum, but REALLY WANTED to mail the postcards from NYC, (not DIA), so rattled around FOR ALMOST TWO HOURS looking for a post office.
By that time, the museum was closed.
Did I mention that I HAD FIRST CLASS POSTAGE STAMPS IN MY WALLET?????

I actually liked it

2010-12-25T15:46:00.000-07:00

Did I mention butter and garlic? So what's not to love?

Uh huh. And pretty sure I mentioned anchovies. Willing to go there, although the APPEARANCE at this point is off-putting, at best.

So then they add cream (?) and RAW CELERY (note, must not allow it to soften).
Seriously. The person who conceived of this was down to the last 3 foodstuffs in the house, and desperate.

Jill. Her mom recounted a family reunion experiment: each family was to prepare their own version of bagna cauda, and all could enjoy. She described how in the end, each family was huddled around their own pot. It's one of those things, I guess, like the family chili recipe.

It tasted very... fishy. Frankly, it was quite evocative of a visit to either coast. Otherwise, I don't usually eat a lot of fish. But I did like it. Could be the wine, though.

bagna cauda

2010-12-24T10:24:00.000-07:00

Going to Joan's for Christmas Eve. Joan is our "rent-a-grandma" who saved us last spring when daycare imploded.
Joan also drove Rose 2-3x a week for her sp ed preschool.
We ended up getting extra speech therapy during those rides. That's how fabulous Joan is.
She recently unearthed a special book she had made for Rose to look at during those rides, full of pictures and corresponding vocabulary words.
Never intended to help Rose read.
Just intended to help Rose learn, store, and articulate common words.
Frankly, about to cry with gratitude for Joan in my life.
Met Joan through Jill. Met Jill through daycare when Andy was 3. I ADORE Jill and Joan both.
Jill now counselor at a high school, "recruited" Andy although it's in another district. (Happens to be district in which P teaches, though.)
I always feel that she gives way more than she takes in our friendship, and probably in life overall.
Crying about Jill, too. Because I'm a little thin-skinned that way.
You should see me during chick flicks. whoa.
Wow, so Joan. Joan is such a lovely, dignified, wise, generous and gentle person. Except, I suspect, when pushed between a rock and a hard place. She does not suffer fools.
So both Joan and Jill have warned that the traditional Italian dish which will be tonight's centerpiece is not for the faint of heart.
And they don't even KNOW I'm back on the ww (points plus!) wagon!
Bagna cauda. Directly translated, it seems to mean hot bath.
As you know, I'm a fan of hot baths.
This, however, is apparently anchovy gravy, kept hot over a heat source, eaten standing up. You serve yourselves by dipping up some of the gravy with a raw celery stick, then pouring it over your traditional Italian bread.
The recipes I have found are basically anchovies "melted" in olive oil, with garlic, butter, pepper, etc.
Joan and Jill both allude to cream in their own family recipe.
I am not faint of heart, and I adore being allowed into family rituals. So I'm just planning ahead, budgeting the day's food allowances....
Must say, though, not so sure about anchovy gravy.

LIST

2010-12-20T08:30:00.000-07:00

make list
check twice
get over idea of baking
get over idea of germ free house
get over yourself
but do get red nails
~~put self first~~ put kids first
~~put self second~~ put homeless people second
put self third
go make some art

just wondering

2010-12-15T21:08:00.000-07:00

So I have signed a lease on an art studio. I make it over there about once a week, although with some time off at Christmas, I imagine I'll be there for hours. It surprises me how productive I am in that space, all alone. I complete one or two pieces every time I go there, pieces that I really like. It is a luxury, although I have a great deal money-wise. But taking this step seems to have changed my self-concept. I think of myself as a working artist, not a dabbler or hobbyist.

Now. The real job is evolving as well, and strangely. I need to double-check that I actually have my hands on the wheel. Otherwise, I'm a passenger, not the driver.

Here's another thing that's on my mind: the cost of competence. Have you ever been taken advantage of because you're good at what you do? Been given tough assignments because you could handle them? Been promoted out of what you love and into something thankless or sterile or pointless?

Just asking.

Latest

2010-12-12T05:42:00.000-07:00

So the Dandy Girl does NOT have a tethered spinal cord. She has one vertebra that did not completely form. This is called spina bifida occluda, and does not in itself cause any problems. Whew.
Our big dog Rex had a big lump removed and has a bunch of staples closing the incision. This means he has to wear one of those big collars. Why anyone ever decided to call them "Elizabethan Collars," I don't know. I think the more recent "Cone of Shame" is far more descriptive, based on how dogs act when they have to wear them.
Anyway, a cone of shame suitable for a Great Dane has an opening with a diameter of at least 18 inches. Consider the problem of doorways and narrow passages. Clearance is very slim. Poor Rex has been getting stuck for a couple of weeks now.
Consider also the problem of stairs. Rex's cone of shame is big enough that it rams into the risers. This causes his whole body to jam backward and he falls. He can get up, because he did figure out a pattern of taking a step and then lifting his head for clearance. Mostly, though, he whines at the bottom of the stairs. It would be pitiful if it wasn't so frustrating.
There is one advantage that he has discovered- it works as a kind of snow plow. Rex has been shoving us around insistently, towards his food, towards his leash... It would be kind of funny if it wasn't so annoying.

The Joke's On Me

2010-11-20T20:08:00.001-07:00

It's been a quiet week in Lake Woebegone. Here in Denver, however, a few events are worth reporting.
Do you ever find THE answer to your questions, needs and dilemmas, and then turn around to find that it has bitten you in the ass? And the joke's on you.
The Dandy Girl has for years had trouble with urinary incontinence.
So doc said- hmm, maybe constipation. Let's get an X-ray.
X-ray revealed that indeed, constipation. So very treatable.
Also revealed that both the urinary incontinence and the constipation are probably due to that dark anomaly on one of her vertebrae. ha ha! Joke's on her.
So the Dandy Girl now has an upcoming MRI to confirm the neuro-surgeon's suspicions about a tethered spinal cord. While the spinal cord should hang loosely and slide freely through the vertebrae, in some cases there is tissue which connects it. With growth and aging, this results in stretching and thinning of the nerves, I guess, which leads to weakness, unreliable motor control, and even paralysis.
Apparently it's great news to find it during childhood, as it is surgically correctable.
Bah. It's very hard to consider it "great news," but I am very aware of everything that Rose has been spared, and I try to be thankful.
So I have been taking a new anti-depressant.
Presented at a state science conference yesterday and in a quieter moment, marveled to see that I was on a hugging basis with at least 8 people there, including the science director of the Colorado Department of Education. Odd.
This new drug does seem to have helped- the fog has cleared away enough for me to realize that...
... there WAS fog, tremendously thick fog, and I guess my judgment has been impaired for close to a year.
I am not suggesting that becoming a part of the state and regional science circle represents impaired judgment, but if you know me well, you'll see why I think it's, well, odd.
So, new drug. I was delighted to report to the counselor that I hadn't cried in 5 days, and
...she looked at me with some indication of pity, and gently said,
"That's great. Not crying for 5 days is much, much better. But you still have a lot to work on."
huh. Joke's on me.
And clearing the fog seems to have kick-started my art. I have 4 pieces hanging in one of the front offices at school, where they give me pleasure.
Reports from friends indicate they give others pleasure too.
Rose and I moved in to a new art studio today.
I transposed two digits on the alarm code, which was not an auspicious beginning, but I did succeed in canceling the alarm and fielding the phone call from the security company. No cruisers arrived, thankfully. Poor Rosie was concerned we would have to go to jail.
So last weekend I went to art club and STARTED AND FINISHED a piece that inaugurates a series. I do love it so.
But after the four hours of really intense, focused work sitting down, I stood up and something in my knee went, "ka-twang!" and really, really hurt.
So I was limping for several days, and then realized that the other knee was hurting as well, probably from trying to compensate for the twanged left one.
So then I realized I was walking like a 91 year old,
and needed to hold on to things,
and strangers were offering me chairs,
and the pain did not go away with sitting, reclining or even during sleeping,
and so it turns out that
a documented side effect of E!!exor is severe joint pain.
ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Joke's on me.
Tune in next time for more comedy.

closer to fine

2010-11-07T18:38:00.000-07:00

THIS was our surprise today

2010-11-07T18:24:00.000-07:00

Ray and his mother have moved back to Colorado. He and Andy hatched up a birthday surprise for Peter.

So we all went down to Steuben's for some brunch and then some cake.

Welcome home, Raymond.

revisiting Raleigh St.

2010-11-07T06:40:00.000-07:00

OK.
Overheard on Raleigh St.

Happy Birthday, Daddy. You have to walk like an old man.

overheard

2010-11-06T21:21:00.000-06:00

Overheard on Raleigh Street:

"You're a weiner."

"No, you're a weiner."

"Arfie, wag your tail if Daddy's a weiner."

Wag it! Wag it!"

Good boy."

Truer wags were never spoken....

Boo.

2010-10-31T17:25:00.000-06:00

We rode the light rail to a hip downtown. Browsed the funky shops, a used bookstore, a former garage turned restaurant, and a coffee and chocolate shop. Then rode the light rail back. It was a snappin' fall day, with impossibly blue skies and crunchy leaves.

Rose and I look SO GREAT in our hats. Here we are in front of the Littleton WPA era library.

This time of year, we refer to these as eyeball trees. Especially when we step on one of the rubbery fruits and it gives with a slight pop...

Mother Nature's compositions mock my best.

Waiting for the train. Considering putting a penny on the track.

Here's where you wait to get on. Note the nonskid surface.

Finally, an art deco frieze around a building on 16th and Stout. Lovely.

Humbling

2010-09-21T20:13:00.000-06:00

Visited a friend today. She just had a surgery and was finally home cuddling with her daughter. Went to hospital alone. Grandma loaded daughter and son onto the city bus to visit before she went in. Woke up alone. Cried alone.
She is a tough, outspoken and even aggressive person. When I first met her, what a mama bear. So angry at the schools for her son's behaviors, achievement and self-concept. I sometimes steered clear of her because of her anger.
A series of grueling wake-up calls later, including a devastating diagnosis explaining the son's struggles, and she is still a tough cookie, but so, so wise, and so humble. So ready to listen. So ready to learn. Edgy, funny, energetic.
So she's been humbled, but so have I, really. This is not the first time I have been thrown together with someone so very different from myself and learned from them. There was Andy's foster mother, Elsie. There was Raymond's mother Nancy. And now R.
Everybody has a story. Everybody has a gift.

Always Alert

2010-09-19T10:47:00.000-06:00

So the teen has the Homecoming Dance next Saturday. It turns out that there is already a tradition for the restaurant, so no thinking required there. (Girlfriend explained that she'd been there for the last three years. I helpfully added, "...with her LAST three boyfriends..." but Andy was not discomfited with that idea.)

We still haven't dealt with what he's wearing, and I keep pestering to find out the details of her dress so we can order a corsage. Something really unusual, I think. She's a sophisticated girl. With fire engine red hair. Job one, though, is just finding out if she'll want a wrist corsage or one for her gown. Since Andy was a little unclear on what corsages were at all, I've had to persist.

Oh! Not to worry! He did a little detective work:

"Yea she doesn't have a dress yet, but I was right there when she and this other girl started talking about their dresses and the girl goes, "So do you have a bra?" and (E) goes, "Oh yes, it's strapless and everything. And I thought, 'That's all I need to know," and I got out of there."

Red Delicious

2010-09-19T10:27:00.001-06:00

I've never liked Red Delicious apples. Mealy. Bitter skin.
We don't buy them, here at Casa Waalka.
We do, however, celebrate the arrival of Galas. With a fete.
Rose showed up this morning with one in each hand, each with a bite missing.
I merely raised my eyebrows; why fight it? It's an apple.
She explained that "this" one was a sleeping apple, and "this" was a dead apple.
Sure enough, I witnessed her dramatic demise mere moments later, although how she managed to take another bite of the dead apple after eating the whole sleeping apple, I don't know.

Just dancing to the flying bullets

2010-09-16T18:59:00.000-06:00

When the boss asked which of the three of us wanted to go to conference in Las Vegas, all of us were mute. THAT should tell you the state of affairs in fifth grade... I don't "get" to go. Courtney. Alone. After writing sub plans for a week. Whew.
Meanwhile, I am consumed with relief so I can TEACH MORE MATH AS FAST AS I CAN.
The basement bathroom is now functional, after 8? 9? months. It's not finished- it MAY be this weekend, though. But it has fixtures.
And not a moment too soon. Literally, the day the downstairs sink was installed, I heard splashing on the floor under the upstairs sink. Yep. Something had rusted ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Groans...
Andy and Peter "fixed" it- although a plumber is needed. Then later that night I heard Peter, who was doing the dishes in the kitchen, "You have GOT to be KIDDING me." Yep. Water was shooting sideways out of the kitchen sink faucet.
I steered clear of him as long as I could, but when Rose took her shower the next night and the basement drain backed up, I did have to consult him about having the guy come and clean the roots out of the pipes...

Meditation

2010-09-11T20:25:00.000-06:00

I love these kids.

And I love this place.

Prince Charming

2010-09-11T19:36:00.000-06:00

Andy announced that he was going to Homecoming. This was delivered in an off-hand manner, but I knew it was a really big deal, because he has girlfriend who has joined us on two family outings, who is two grades older than he is, who went to a pre-med summer camp, and who is president of her school's honor society. Wow. Love that girl. All of his other "girlfriends" have been nameless phantoms who made him miserable for a week or so.

Anyway, I tried not to over-mother while asking him if he had covered the basics:
"Oh? When is it?"
"I dunno. It's probably in my planner. Next week some time, I think."
'NEXT WEEK???!!....ahem, I mean, next week? You better find out right away. You have a lot of stuff to get together."
"Um, yea, ok."
"You'll need a ride, you need to figure out where you're going for dinner and if you're going with other couples, you need to get her a corsage, so ask her what color her dress is..."
"Um.."
"Andy this is kind of a big deal. You need to find out."
Meanwhile, the girlfriend herself is texting him: So homecoming? Yes or no? (Apparently his completely casual attitude about it all has begun to give concern.)
"Mom, it's not prom.. It's Homecoming. Every year they have like a picnic or a barbeque or something, and then there's a football game."
"Andy I think there's a big dance. I mean, my high school didn't have Homecoming, so I'm not sure, but I think there's a big dance. Like, rent a tux kind of dance."
"No. It's not like that."
A half hour or so later, he showed up swaying in my doorway.
"Mom? It's a dance."
I could not stop laughing. Poor kid. At one point he actually whimpered. Emily was texting him about boutonnieres, which he had never heard of and could not pronounce. He was laughing too, but he was truly horrified.

My baby, all grown up.

Risky Classified Advertisement

2010-08-19T21:40:00.000-06:00

I managed a couple of restaurants, in a previous life. It is thankless work, and hard to make creative. And if any member of the staff can't or doesn't make it in, guess what? The manager does it. In her manager dress and manager shoes.

So there is strong incentive to get and keep dishwashers. However it's hot, dirty, heavy work for low pay. Even the pleasure of working for ME (cleverly referred as Miss Manager... get it?) wasn't much incentive to accept or keep a dishwashing job.

And holy cow. The applicants that arrived when you were forced to run an ad for the position. Aye. I don't wish to describe, for fear of offending the many fine, upstanding, hardworking dishwashers. It's mostly the APPLICANTS who are scary and smelly and vaguely... felonious.

Imagine my relief when Terry arrived: lean, bespectacled, earnest, almost compulsive. Neat. Clean. Punctual. Early, even. He did smoke like crazy, but he could have sniffed glue right in front of me and I would still have been delighted with his job performance. What a relief. A reliable guy. Respectful. "Miss." Quiet.

And imagine my extreme dismay when he did not come to work one morning. I was dismayed not just because of the usual disgust at trying to plug the gap and make it through the lunch rush. I was dismayed because I was WORRIED. It was SO unlike him.

I actually DROVE DOWN to the place where he lived. It was a motel on one of the downtown, down-at-the-heels avenues. I knocked on his door; no answer. I was really worried that he was feverish in there or something. I went to get the manager and tell him something must be really wrong.

It was.

He said, "Lady, you better get yourself another dishwasher. About 4AM the cops come in here and got him. He'd escaped from prison in Texas but now they found him from the chemicals he was sending through the mail. So they hauled him outa there, cuffed 'im and stuffed 'im and threw 'im in the slammer for good."

um?

bullets of August

2010-08-15T07:03:00.000-06:00

In an effort to explain and end the ongoing August- well, July and August, really- headache, I went to the eye doctor.
Who changed my left contact (which I use for near vision) to a much weaker power.
Who said that 2/3 of patients are not successful with this technique.
And who is a nature photographer with a picture of a Western Grebe and a picture of three Sandhill Cranes in his exam room.
I'll be needing to go back, and it's not for the bird pics.
Seepy left eye, coronas around all the headlights for night driving, eyeball ache.
OK, and I LOVE the sound of crickets at night.
The bluejay whining in the morning is not so pleasant, although I appreciate the effort.
I have a student whose IQ is 51. I'll say no more, except that I love him.
Turns out ginger beer is not beer at all. Much stronger, more gingery than ginger ale. I love it.
The hair salon faces east and in this blazing summer, their METAL DOOR was SWELLING and they could NOT OPEN in the mornings.
One of the contractors called to solve the problem recommended that they
KEEP A BUCKET OF COLD WATER ON HAND to cool it down.
And he submitted an invoice for this advice.
I love people who make me feel competent.

Selflessness

2010-08-08T10:45:00.001-06:00

Last night when I sent food out to the treehouse, where my teen son and his teen buddies were playing Monop0ly by the light of a camping lantern, I included a pound of fresh cherries.

I suspected that they would eat them all, and they did.

I believe this sacrifice will get me a luxurious after-life.

universal language

2010-08-05T21:29:00.000-06:00

So today I was having my nails polished, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I LIKE TO DO, and a lovely older woman was doing them. We chatted just a little bit about how pretty her salon was, and I asked her about the pretty cherry blossom branches on the walls. It occurred to me that she had to have made them herself, and, indeed, I was correct. She said, "We could not buy it big. But we wanted it so badly. So we just, make it." She said she couldn't decide how to change it for autumn and winter.

Then her friend came and sat beside her while she worked on my hands. I have often observed the quiet exchanges between the employees- they are almost inaudible, a lilting sort of language- Vietnamese?- that is at once glottal and melodic. So these lovely women were talking and laughing with each other, and I was closing my eyes and just listening to the rhythm.

But they were really laughing more and more. They were telling stories back and forth, repeating phrases and laughing harder and harder. I peeked and saw that one of them was actually wiping away tears. They were getting a little louder, and their laughter was so infectious that I was laughing, although I had no idea what they were talking about.

Finally, mid-lilt, out came a quote, "Excuse me sir, he come in ONE MINUTE, he's ina toilet!" Gales of laughter. Then she repeated the quote. Then back to the lilt.

Really. Could YOU have let that go? I said, "I don't know what you're talking about, but it's hilarious." So they confided that they were talking about one of their nieces, who is 23, "but she act like a baby sometimes." They tried to describe her through anecdotes: "She ask the customer, 'Do you want me to keep talking to you, or do you want me to stop talking to you?' (Auntie observed that there is no way to answer that question- it's a trap.) and finally through a stereotype: "You know a blond? A blond people? She like a blond people."

We were on a hugging basis by the end... sigh.

Just a sip...

2010-07-26T08:09:00.000-06:00

The other night at a swanky restaurant, I had a cocktail that had me truly questioning my moderate position on alcohol:
Pat's Porch Pounder. - mint, cucumber (!), vodka, simple syrup, GINGER BEER... I had about 1/3 of it before I was strangely relaxed, but I pressed on and finished another third of it. Very refreshing.

Meanwhile, my daughter gestured vaguely at something this morning and said she had tried a little sip of it. I asked for clarification... and yes... it was MAPLE SYRUP.

2010-07-18T20:13:00.000-06:00

New York Stock Exchange

Just another couple blocks to get to Patrick's house

Yes, there are newsstands in the subways

What you can look at while you wait in line for forty-five minutes at the Empire State Building

There's still more above you when you get to the observation deck

What you can look down if you take the stairs

The one time I was a little unnerved- a short street behind Canal Street- graffiti, trash, idlers. But look at the attractive couple.

I went to Canal Street to go to this New York City artists' mecca

The department I wanted was on the fifth floor.

It was quite a climb

And I met this guy, who doodles on the counter when he has no customers

Looking for connection

2010-07-18T10:23:00.000-06:00

Dear jaq, I am sorry that I have not been able to reach you in order to talk about our children. I know it is scary, lonely, and painful. I know that each new challenge can bring you to desperation, I know that it is absolutely humbling to never have the answers, and I know that every sign of progress is a triumphant joy.

One of the warmest and most active groups I know is the Dandy Walker Alliance. Here is the link: http://www.dandy-walker.org/

I would love to hear more about your sweet son, and talk about what works, what hurts, and how we take care of ourselves. There are other lovely families out there reaching out, and I know we can all support each other. Please do leave another comment, look for me on facebook (Laurie Waalkes) and reach out through the DW Alliance. I hope we can get to know each other.

Angry Ankles

2010-07-18T09:50:00.001-06:00

My feet and ankles really did take a beating, and they are still swollen. I posted a picture a couple of days ago- scroll down- but there's a story there:

My host Patrick gave me some cream to soothe them- you know, one of those minty, therapeutic, cold/hot deals- and I put a bunch of ice in a plastic sack and put them up on the footstool. aahhh.....

Then I shifted the ice pack and AHHHHH..... my legs were violently black and red! I had a momentary horror that my feet actually LOOKED like that, and then we realized that the strong minty cream had dissolved the ink on the plastic bag! (It was once of those "I heart New York" bags, hence the black and the red).

Pretty impressive, though, huh?

breaking through the shell

2010-07-17T15:36:00.002-06:00

See, mostly these people are just tired. They see thousands of people every day, are mostly treated as functionaries and treat their customers correspondingly. So you just ask them how long they've worked there, or comment on their jewelry or something.

And the next thing you know, you've got eye contact, a smile, and sometimes an earnest, "Thank you for visiting New York City." It's very touching, and it makes visiting any place so very meaningful.

When I needed the museum security officers to call my friend in his office, the woman stepped out of the bag check line. At first, she could not reach my friend, but then double-checked what she had dialed, apologized to me for dialing incorrectly, and got through successfully. She and I chatted back and forth and laughed some.

Meanwhile her gruff partner was checking ALL THE BAGS and giving her a little grief, to which she responded, "Shut up."

She explained they were very busy and tired, but she was really friendly and helpful. Then I filled out the visitor's pass and while the guy was STILL CHECKING ALL THE BAGS, she proceeded to PEEL THE BACKING OFF THE STICKER FOR ME while he muttered something like "don't worry about me..."
By this time all of us were laughing. Here they are- can't you just hear their New York accents?

Another security officer in the shop at the end of the Silk Road exhibit was singing, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road," out loud to herself. So I gave her a look and said, "No, different road," which she thought was HILARIOUS and went into gales of laughter. She thanked me for the laugh when I left.

Oh, and here's part of the handrail at the museum:

Oh, and here's what I saw every evening when I walked home from the train:

Old headstones in churchyard by Ground Zero.

Entrance to park in Patrick's neighborhood.

I cut diagonally through this block every evening.

drinking through the fire hose

2010-07-16T21:02:00.000-06:00

My neighbor Barry warned me that a week in New York was going to feel like trying to drink through a fire hose, and he was right.

I fit in as much as my feet would allow.

My brain was working on overtime also- when I was NOT at the institute, I was intensely focused on figuring out which train to take, and which way was up when I emerged from below ground.

When I WAS at the institute, I was trying to sort out math coaching, literacy coaching, coaching-coaching, self-coaching,.... META coaching, as my friend cleverly suggested.

I can report with complete confidence that I walk more in one day here than I do in a week in Denver. I walk up/down more STAIRS here in one day than I do in at least two weeks, maybe longer.
I brought some pretty shoes, which I won't likely do again.
I brought some makeup which, why bother? First of all, no one's looking at me, and second of all, it all melted off in the first hour. I never put any on again.
I brought a ton of jewelry and never wore any of it, because it's so oppressively hot here that I could not stand the idea of having anything extra on my skin.
I thought that it would be sexy if I bought some SHOES IN NEW YORK. So I went into a shoe store to try some on and when I looked down I DID NOT RECOGNIZE MY FEET because they were grotesquely swollen like tree stumps.
Which makes me feel old.

Culver Lake, New Jersey

2010-07-14T19:35:00.001-06:00

My good, good friend Kate has a sprawling affectionate, intelligent, energetic family. If a family member introduces a friend into the family, they are completely embraced by one and all. I am one of these fortunate people, and I spent the weekend with Aunt Dorry and Uncle John, nieces, nephews, boats, rocking chairs and crossword puzzles.

Just when you thought you knew someone...

2010-07-06T20:34:00.001-06:00

... NOTHING CHANGES. You absolutely pegged it months ago, and what you predicted would happen is exactly what is happening now. You SAID she was going to do that, and now she's doing it.

Is it even MORE annoying that the annoyance you predicted is in fact exactly what's annoying you now?

(Waiting for it to happen is just as annoying, because you are convinced it will happen any minute, so even though it WILL BE annoying when it happens, you're annoyed because you know it's coming...)

Meta-fun: for the self-involved

2010-07-04T07:26:00.000-06:00

Shamelessly copied and pasted from wikipedia, I bring you the problem with my mind:

Meta- (from Greek: μετά = "after", "beyond", "with", "adjacent", "self"), is a prefix used in English (and other Greek-owing languages) to indicate a concept which is an abstraction from another concept, used to complete or add to the latter.

For example, the commonly used term metacognition refers to awareness of one's own thinking and learning processes.

Other examples:

Meta-reference, a meta-fiction technique, is a situation in a work of fiction whereby fictional characters display an awareness that they are in such a work, such as a film, television show or book. The oldest use of meta-reference in cinema is possibly in the Marx Brothers' movie Animal Crackers, in which at one point Groucho speaks directly to the camera, saying, "Pardon me while I have a strange interlude."
Meta-joke.- This kind of meta-joke is a joke in which a familiar class of jokes is part of the joke. An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walk into a bar. The bartender turns to them, takes one look, and says "What is this - some kind of joke?"
Meta-advertising refers to a hybrid form of advertising, where the advertiser advertises for an advertisement. Meta-advertising can also include ads which advertise for advertising. This is common with billboards, such as a billboard that says "A thousand people will pass by this billboard today. To advertise here call..."

This one is so ridiculously me that I am actually meta about my meta-emotions.

Meta-emotion refers to the emotional reactions to one's own emotions (second-order emotions about primary emotions). An example would be being angry (the primary emotion) and being afraid of one's anger (the meta-emotion). (Chuck Pyle says: I'm angry that I feel guilty for being ashamed of being afraid.)

And finally, the ultimate in hamster-wheel, tail-chasing, mental exercise for the sake of avoiding reality, I bring you:

Metaphilosophy, also called philosophy of philosophy, is the study of the nature, aims, and methods of philosophy.

Everybody Knew You Didn't Give No Lip to Big John

2010-07-01T07:32:00.000-06:00

My sister bought me a novelty birthday card which included a cd of music from the year of my birth, 1979.

It is full of the goofiest, hokey-est music. Neil Sedaka! Jimmy Dean! Harry Belafonte! Out o f 20 songs, there are 3 or 4 that I will listen to in their entirety. And one of them is "Big Bad John."

Shamelessly manipulative, clearly progeny of American folk tales and at only 90 seconds long, impressively rich in context, it's an incredible vehicle for Jimmy Dean's rich voice.

ok. Maybe that birth year was not accurate. You do the math.

This song is so, so irresistable- the hokey backup singers, the catchy tune, the heroic story, Dean's awe at the big, big man, and the song's overall position at the crossroads of country and pop.

I made Andy listen to it, and he literally laughed out loud at the unfolding, predictable events. AND THEN HE ASKED ME TO PLAY IT AGAIN. He was singing along. When he got home, he called his band buddy and told him to start learning it, because they were going to record a remake.

So I said to myself, I said, "Self..."

2010-06-30T08:05:00.000-06:00

Check this out: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128194886 This is very interesting. (I especially appreciate the one who comments about her ass- pictures of me at my summer opera internship at age 20 show a wildly unappreciated body- at least unappreciated by ME.)

If you eliminate the possibility of do-overs- because at this point, why contemplate that?- is there anything you could say to yourself that you would listen to? If some lady more than twice my age had tried to advise me, would I have listened? (Actually, I did listen very carefully once to my boyfriend's mom, and she was very helpful...)

At 20, I was in a pretty big hurry. I was surrounded by people who were trying to get my attention for very real reasons, but subconsciously I doubted their motivations. I can actually think of several people at the moment. I was on my way to Greece for a semester abroad. I was maintaining ties with high school friends, while cutting those same ties (Good trick, huh?)

What would YOU say to your 20 year old self? I can think of a few things.

You have nothing to be afraid of.
Get over yourself.
Why not?
Pay attention.

It's going to be ok. You are going to make mistakes and you are going to have some heartaches. You'd be better off not being QUITE so melodramatic, but the emotional lows will be balanced by profound joy.

(ACK! NO DO-OVERS! I am resisting the impulse to TELL her what to do here, I know very well that she OFTEN wants someone to come down from on high and tell her what will happen if...? what her regrets might be... successes, failures...)

Three Steps to Brain-Based Language-Learning | BrainWorld

2010-06-26T21:34:00.000-06:00

Three Steps to Brain-Based Language-Learning | BrainWorld

A new magazine. I first saw it at one of my summer science conferences- a keynote speaker has an article in it. I love stuff like this!!!

What's on your list?

2010-06-19T19:21:00.000-06:00

stumbling and ended up here...
How to Think Yourself Happy - What Makes Us Happy in Life on ELLE.com

here's a quote:
Willard Spiegelman, in his excellent book of essays, Seven Pleasures, offers a list of activities that lead to sanguinity: reading, walking, looking, dancing, listening, swimming, and writing. But it’s just his list.

in other news...

2010-06-18T08:46:00.000-06:00

My dear friends have completed a long journey home which has her installed at a rehabilitation hospital and him sleeping for 18 hours. It started with a husband/wife getaway to the canyons of Utah, three miles into a canyon hike. He determined that she was having a stroke. The details are both horrifying and serendipitous, including a handy Eagle scout troop who bore her down the canyon in a litter they made of saplings and the accumulated belts of all the hikers on the trail, a handy nurse who was one of said hikers, an 80 mile ambulance ride, a subsequent medical flight, hours of sweaty, unshaven, unfed anxiety far from home and family, etc. etc. She has maintained cognition and receptive language. Expressive language is strong and growing stronger.

And she wiggled two fingers and a thumb yesterday.

I will visit soon.

I have wrapped up a month of professional opportunities that earned me a little extra money and netted a lot of contacts and future opportunities. I'm a loose ends now as I look summer in the face and realize I have no real plans or goals or intentions left. At least, not until July, when I hope I will be at another institute for a week, learning more about coaching adult learners.

I had a ball yesterday for my birthday with friends new and old, and a PINK ice cream cake WITH RIBBONS (guess who chose this for me?) once I got home.

LOVE the new book club book Headlong. I was certain it would be another example of a bleak and heartless story winning the Man Booker Prize. When July's hostess announced the title and its awards, I groaned inwardly and probably did make some kind of remark like, "Oh goodie."

But it is very interesting in terms of context, very compelling characters and narrative, and very, very funny in that dry, huge-vocabulary British way.

Random randomosity

2010-06-12T12:33:00.000-06:00

Occurs to me that if Phil Collins hadn't been a pop musician right on the edge of KBCO-calibre rock, he could easily have been a Hollywood mafioso.
OR POSSIBLY an edgy leading man, although perhaps only in remote, never-quite-trust-him roles
Plenty to be said for local diners- I went to one this morning, where they cheerfully made me a patty melt at 10:00 AM, called my daughter by her name, and refilled her whipped cream (not her hot chocolate)
Remarks to yourself, please, about both the hot chocolate and the whipped cream
Where has Henry O'Neill been, and how is it that I am just attending to him?
Do you think he sounds like John Legend?
Do you ever put 51 cents in those grindy machines and get your penny smashed and imprinted with scenes from tourist destinations?
Chronic but unpredictable basement leak problem in spring time here. Vigilance advised.
Good day for a movie, in fact, a movie with popcorn sounds swell.

What's Up?

2010-06-10T21:31:00.000-06:00

Neighborhood still has a few lilacs, heavy, heady roses, poppies almost finished, irises definitely done. How can this be? Spring flowers finished, summer flowers over-ripe? Lawns trending more brown every day?

I haven't quite felt summer start yet, although a high school reunion sandwiched between two rigorous professional weeks was a very promising taste. I am LOVING catching up with old friends, and the reunion weekend was totally worth all of the fretting that came before (should I attend even though I haven't written the great American novel? What about liposuction...?). I think I'll attend my 11th reunion, too. (ha)

Tonight was the weekly barbeque- our friends invite any and all to their home every Thursday from Memorial Day to Labor Day. It is a boisterous, jovial, messy free-for-all with plenty of toddlers, dogs, brews and toys to go around. Highly stimulating, yes, but don't you wish YOUR friends hosted a barbeque every week? Want to come? Because literally, all are invited. Just bring a dish to share.

Looking very much like I will be attending another conference for a week in July, as a result of some groveling in various arenas. I have found lodging and may have gotten free registration to the institute I am so, so longing to attend. Do you think I can convince the airlines to send me gratis? No? Plus: food. Ground transportation. AND, the very real problem with the nerves- big scary city, country bumpkin me.

Time to grow up, I guess.

Either You Like It, Or You Don't

2010-05-29T18:16:00.000-06:00

tapioca pudding- like it
fruitcake- like it
liver- pah! pah!ppptttoo!
beets- like them
brussels sprouts- like them
cooked spinach- like it
raw spinach- not so much
spam - no
buttermilk- ick
cottage cheese- like it
spam- I'm not sure I've ever had spam
turnips- like
mushrooms- like
mayonnaise-like
faux mayonnaise (what is that stuff called?)- do not like
lima beans- no

The Silence and the Acceptance

2010-05-29T09:00:00.001-06:00

I seem to have "misplaced" The Sound and the Fury. What a shame. Seriously. I'm reluctant to admit that I really can't find it, but as we know I routinely lose things in my own detritus.

This is not how I like to think of myself. I was thinking today that if there was a magic purchase I could make, it would be for will-power. If I had will-power, I would have already read the book...

The Sound and the Fury

2010-05-16T20:54:00.000-06:00

Rachel usually picks classics when it's her turn to host the book club. This is a good thing, a very good thing. I forgive her for choosing Hemingway; he's a genius and it was worth it. I am still frowning VERY MUCH about Tess of the d'Urbervilles, but even then it was a noble effort.

The Sound and the Fury, people. Depressed/anxious already. This book is not helping. I think you probably remember that I simply never even opened up Of Mice and Men, and The Kite Runner was given only 50-60 pages in which to hang itself.

So, I'm drinking some hard pear cider, and feeling defiant about it. In fact, maybe I'll just HAVE ANOTHER ONE. How about that? (One of the most memorable meals I have ever eaten was in Vancouver: fry bread with salmon, and hard pear cider. Who needs anything else? I mean, except, obviously, pecan pie.)

chucking it all

2010-05-16T09:10:00.000-06:00

My "new year's resolutions" often come in summer. Or when the new school year is beginning. This makes sense; even those whose work life is not paced by the school calendar were conditioned by it as children, and of course those raising children are inevitably controlled by it.

I feel poised for a new start in so many dimensions. This sense of possibility is accompanied by a sense of claustrophobia- almost suffocation, really- that just makes me feel like FLEEING.

An alternative is to back a rollaway dumpster up to the back door and get rid of everything. Then roll it up to my classroom and do the same. Next would be, I don't know... buying a wig? I'd like to just do something COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED, like come home with a car I've purchased without advance discussion. Go see a tailor and plan an entire wardrobe that suits me. Pack up Rose and go to... New Mexico? for a week?

Take my son and go for some kind of Ou+ward B%nd experience? Or just visit a prison or something? And remember, NOBODY AT MY HOUSE READS THIS BLOG or cares about it, so I can say whatever I want.

I have put two bites out into the neighborhood for a studio space. I have aggressively sought support for professional development opportunities. I have tried to write a philosophical mission statement that clarifies my artistic vision.

Sometimes I totally understand how people just... disappear... and start a new life. But I am very attached to certain aspects of this one. Sometimes I totally understand how the sensory deprivation/flotation tank industry, corny as it is, continues.

Hermitage? Closet lined with black fleece and locked from the inside?

Turnsh out alsho

2010-05-11T22:13:00.000-06:00

Well it turns out that SOME people can follow my train of thought.
Anonymous, for example. So astute.

Turns out also that my pants were right- I HAVE gained weight since the bathroom scale was relocated to a place other than the bathroom. So says the master scale at WW. ugh 6 pounds!!!

And finally, I have met someone, a delightful someone, a joyful, cheerful someone with a lateral lisp. Alert readers know that one reason I love Zippy so much is that when she was a child, she and her evil friend affected the lateral lisp until the friend's mother finally tchashed her out of the houshe with a yardshtick.

It is also why I love my friendsh Shushan and Sharah, whose last names are Shandersh and Shadler. It is why I love shoups, shtews and fricasheesh, and shlotted shpoonsh.

So this guy is working the express lane in the early morning shift at the supermarket. His name, my friends, is Ellis. He is reading groceries like they were tea leaves: "You're having a cookout! A barbeque! At school...? Looks like hotdogs, hamburgers..." And my total was $36.67.

If you read the above with a mental lateral lisp, you'll see that Ellis and I were meant for each other. Sherioushly.

As It Turns Out

2010-05-10T18:52:00.000-06:00

Well as it turns out, it is actually possible to host the book club at your own home without having either read the book or cooked the dinner.
As it turns out, the problem with the containment housing for the deepwater oil well wasn't ICE CRYSTALS. Because jeez. Did that drive you nuts trying to figure out how ice crystals were forming when surrounded by.. you know.. water? At the pressure created by a mile of ocean above? Really, it drove me nuts. I'm not going to explain it to you, though. I'm just saying that as it turns out, those headlines were too casual.
You could look it up, though. (I didn't. I consulted someone else, who looked it up.)
As it turns out, you can go to work without makeup on and no one will say anything. Or faint.
Turns out also that if you dismantle a bathroom and all of its former contents are stacked in teetering piles of unrecognizable detritus, it is possible to start gaining a lot of weight without realizing it. Until your pants don't really feel comfortable.

When the conditions are right...

2010-05-02T05:37:00.001-06:00

Sometimes the teen gets in a zone and becomes the man he will be.

Yesterday, while his dad was haggling with a roofer, Andy proceeded with the work on the basement bathrom and FRAMED A WALL.

He has always been at his best with physical work that is spatial. He has always been almost supernaturally comfortable with mechanical and electronic constructs. He always responds well when an unspoken assumption leaves him alone with work that is done by men, not boys.

AND YET, there was a day last week in which he called me TWICE to ask for help analyzing poetry. So he has this strange little spike in his communication center- extremely articulate, vast vocabulary, and finely attuned reception for creative expression.

I suppose every parent of every teenager sometimes faces discouragement with the high school scene and its temptations. But every week or so, he impulsively hugs me, rubs my back and looms over me with good humor.

There is hope. In fact, a lot of hope- sometimes great confidence that he will grow into an adult who likes himself and finds fulfillment.

I love that boy.

White Water May

2010-05-01T06:16:00.000-06:00

It's May Day. When we were kids, we really did make little paper baskets and fill them with the only blooming flowers available in our montane community, pasque flowers. We couldn't hang them on very many doors; we lived in an area where the homes were on larger plots of land. We had to drive in order to deliver them, so usually just a couple of friends and our grandmother. After all, May Day is usually a school day!

Then in college, we ushered in May with Kentucky Derby Day. We invited our friends to dress up, wear hats and drink mint juleps. I remember the parties as being kind of chilly, and the juleps being worthy only symbolically. Not very tasty.

Rose is reporting on her upcoming birthday with increasing urgency. Of course there is a new present request at every turn, but more than that is the idea that she will be 9, that she will be heading to 4th grade soon, and that she is a bigger girl.

Yesterday, in an undiscussed, needed, but scary advancement, Daddy allowed her to walk the dog around the block by herself. He hovered at the corner and watched until she disappeared around the corner, then scampered to the alley and watched her pass by the far end of it, then scampered to the other corner to watch her come back towards him. It was a huge day.

By the time I got home, she was having her milk IN AN OPEN GLASS. This is definitely a big girl thing; it is hard for her to hold a cup steady, and controlling her lips and swallowing without a straw lets in a lot of air.

But she was almost shrieking in triumph when I got through the door, showing me her glass, and reporting about walking Rex.

That is what May should be bringing. And as it is no longer April, and the last week of April has been simply stunning in its challenges, I will not look ahead to the rapids in front of me as the last few days of school pass. I will try to embrace May 1 and May 2.

Happy May Day.

Arachnophilia

2010-04-28T06:20:00.000-06:00

Little Rose has passions unexpected. On our walk yesterday she asked, as she had been asking for a day or so, if we could study spiders.
So, in another example of our strange tech world, I googled the phone number of our neighborhood bookstore, called them and asked if we should take the risk of coming in. (If we went in and there wasn't a book about spiders, we would end up having to buy a book about some pink princess.)

I try to make regular purchases at this local store. I am very happy to have a bookstore 2 blocks away, and invested in its success. If they don't have what I ask for, they always tell me they can get it in 2-3 days, and I'm sure they could, although I always decline.

We were assured that they had something which she could read independently and indeed, they did. It was a fun extension of the usual afternoon dog-walk. (Plus Arfie, our great big Dane/Lab mix boy, is welcome in most neighborhood stores, so he came right in to the bookstore with us. Love that.)

We have several book projects to complete. She is planning on weaving an orb web for this book. I love that girl.

some scenes from the field

2010-04-20T09:07:00.000-06:00

Courtney, Becky and I in a Dr. Seuss tree.

Batiquitos Lagoon

That bird out there in the water is a brant. Never saw one of them before. I'm sure you're thrilled.

Large cactus on the hillside near the lagoon.

I really have learned a great deal at this conference.

will not bore you...

2010-04-18T04:59:00.001-06:00

...with all the details. Plus it'll just piss you off.

cleverly remembered cable lock to my laptop!
sadly forgot the KEY
cleverly caught myself before locking the laptop around the steel base of the safebox in my room
sadly forgot phone charger
cleverly located local provider and dealt with
sounds here are different than sounds at home. The birds are frankly just taunting me- they know I don't recognize them so they loudly harass me with song.
saw two park rangers pawing through a backpack they found thrown in the brush. (They assumed it had been stolen and had to locate any clues.) Had a nice chat, laughing with them as I told them they were FBI. They were pleased that I loved their little wildlife refuge and encouraged me to join the "Friends of..."
the plants here all look like they were created by Dr. Seuss
big believer in saying hello. That's how you taste the day. Loved yesterday's shuttle driver- we cracked up all the way- he's a college student in education, but drives that shuttle like a NewYork cabbie. Loved yesterday's Hertz rental shuttle driver- she positively LIT UP when I told her I was going to the mission. Loved that large birder from Virginia who was struggling with the California towhee (I was too, buddy, I was too. It was ACTING like something else...)
renting a little sedan is enough to put me in a dealership soon

don't hate me

2010-04-18T04:49:00.000-06:00

My friends claim to want to go to the hotel spa for massages and pedicures. They claim to want to go shopping. They claim to want to go to the local chic see and be seen retail and restaurant district.

I want the birdies, and I want the history. Just saying.

SoCal

2010-04-17T07:25:00.000-06:00

When I look back at old blog posts I really do marvel at how my job, job performance, and its unexpected benefits have evolved. Faithful readers know that some years back I had an out of body experience in which I took on a school district and invented my own job. I feel almost affectionate about the intervening years, my naivete, my frustrations, the challenges I have been forced to take on, and the regular feelings of doubt. This year has been one of resounding success, with advancement in student achievement in the building, district attention, and regional/national networking.

But let's not talk about that now.
Latest benefit of this job assignment is the conference I mentioned. I have arrived in beautiful southern California. It's early- the sun isn't up- and there is actually a full-throated songbird in a palm tree right outside my window. I have been battling the post-travel headache, but gave up on sleep and started planning my day. (got here a full two days early- why wouldn't I?)

Devoted to birds, people, surely you didn't think I was headed to Knott's Berry Farm? Or Sea World?
(although I will almost certainly try to take in historic missions and forts. Because I am a huge nerd. (which? realized last night that the only book I brought with me except for birding books is about "the siege of Malta, the battle of Lepanto, and the contest for the center of the world." ????))

So here's a little non-bird-related episode to wake up those of you who are SNOOZING (LIZ!!!)
I had fun riding in the shuttle and talking to a guy who was on his way from the airport STRAIGHT TO A BAR for what promised to parallel "The Hangover." (yes, incredibly, I have seen it twice and would see it again. But only under certain circumstances.) Driver and I privy to the conversation with his wife and the conversation with one of the dudes, who was supposed to pick him up but was already too drunk. It was like hearing two different languages. My favorite quote: "Can you circle your drunken wagons and try to figure out what I'm going to do with my luggage at the bar?"

Great guy, then offered to help me with San Diego sights, as he had lived around here for a few years. He was momentarily stymied when I told him I would spend the extra time birdwatching, but managed to use the word "estuary" in his response. What a charmer. He lives in Seattle now, so I asked about the time he had lived "here." Apparently his definition of "here" is far broader than mine. He was "here" in college, because he went to school in Claremont at Pitzer College! This revelation right as we were pulling in to my hotel, and he was DELIGHTED that I went to Pomona. I of course mentioned that I had been there well before his time, and he said, "Well, but not by much..."

I do love these encounters. Won't see that fellow again, likely won't see the cross-bill sentry again, but they become new displays in the gardens of my mind. And little excursions for blog readers.

National What EVer Month

2010-04-11T06:15:00.000-06:00

April is National Poetry Month, a concept of course eagerly embraced by our local library district. First of all, I generally find that anything starting with "National" and ending with "Day," "Week" or "Month" to be gratuitous and annoying.

But (second of all, and SCANDALOUSLY) I spent most of my life thinking generally of poetry as affected and effete.

Then in my masters program, I took a class with a local educator who was an alumnus of the same creative arts program. It had so affected her that she ended up publishing this book. In the... two?... weekends I spent with her, we created at least 30 poems, and at least 10 finished visual arts pieces as companions. I have never been the same.

I was so "meta" about my first poems. They were coy and ironic. The work just sucked me in, however, and now I kind of wallow around in poetry. In fact, (and in spite of the fact that I do not teach literacy in my current job assignment) when teammates think of me, describe me, plan birthday celebrations for me, or create some kind of tribute to acknowledge a career anniversary, they go straight to art and poetry. (not drama, and not science)

Isn't it a strange world?

Unsinkable Faith in My Fellow Humans

2010-04-07T04:40:00.002-06:00

Well. Some of them anyway.

Just got home from a big outing! It's late and bedtime for the little girl.Took Rose and her little buddy Lucas to visit the Molly Brown Summer House. It was a vast farm owned by the so-called "unsinkable" Molly Brown; now the house is owned by the third generation of the SECOND (third?) owners.

Mary Rose a.k.a. Momo, fourth generation, showed the kids all around the house, taught them about lintels, Lyons sandstone, eyebrow windows, and dragontail finials. She showed them a "secret window" and brought them into the beautiful parlor to show them picture after picture.

THEN SHE GAVE THEM GIFTS.

The reason we went is that Rose has to make a model of the home for a school social studies project. Momo gave Rose a cookie jar of the house- ($40!!) and Lucas a teddy bear.

She had such faith in Rose, gave me tips about sites that will read aloud to kids, praised her, trusted her, and loved her. I had- and actually still have- a big lump in my throat.

Happy day.

Kismet?

2010-04-05T21:43:00.000-06:00

Fate? fortune? God's will?
Serendipity?
coincidence?

The power of positive thinking...
giving it up to the universe.

I am not completely dismissive of forces beyond my comprehension, but generally, I am happy to take happiness where I can get it, In fact, I will claim that I have created my own happiness whenever it is even remotely plausible.

I have been a little troubled recently by the troubles of a colleague. I am the friend, the close colleague and, in fact, the coach for this educator. And this person's job performance was not adequate.

And I feel that on many levels I could have, should have, and didn't know how to do more. I am not by any means taking responsibility for the current state of affairs- obviously the job of a teacher requires almost infinite responsibilities and a certain outlook that is less common than many assume.

But I think I could have seen more, done more. Did I need to be less of a teammate and more of a coach? Did I need to be more blunt? Did I need to be more inspiring? Should there have been more direct modeling?

In any case, my dismay led me to request more professional development for working with adult learners. I am FOREVER requesting this kind of pd, and forever met with more SCIENCE METHODS pd. But a good science teacher does not necessarily make a good cognitive coach.

In a long overdue meeting with my principal and my own coach, I said as much.

Between the two of them, they discussed several possible courses of action.
And within two hours, I was booked for a 4 day professional development conference!
I will be attending with four close colleagues from my school.

Kismet? Luck? Asking for what I wanted?
Hey, whatever works.

Charmed I'm Sure

2010-04-03T07:07:00.002-06:00

Someone once told me that I lead a charmed life.

I was describing a series of exchanges that had led to an exquisite, but humble gesture that endures.

And I wonder, DO I have some kind of spell cast over me that brings this kind of magic to my life? Or is it really about noticing, and expressing, and acting?

Faithful readers know that I often, OFTEN, do not notice, or act. ( Faithful readers know that I express, sometimes far too much.) I take a lot of day to day magic for granted.

But when I do notice, I try to express my take on the magic. I try to tell my stories in a way that gets past their plodding trappings and pushes towards some kind of philosophical alignment.

I think perhaps the day to day magic is all we have to fuel our larger efforts.

Plum Blossoms

2010-04-01T07:21:00.000-06:00

From about ages 7 to 12, I lived in a pretty little Spanish Colonial home on the dark side of a mountain valley. It has been a shock to realize that was our home for only five years. In my mind it was THE childhood home. My sister and her husband bought it, in one of life's lovely symmetries, and are raising their own family there now, and their tenancy has already far surrpassed that of our childhood.

It was a creamy stucco, with the iconic toit de tuiles rouges. (That is one of those strange phrases that sometimes stick over the course of foreign language instruction. One of my friends held onto the German term for commemorative stamp, which by far trumps my retention of the French for red tile roof .)

Some dreamy caretaker had planted plum trees in front. These are small trees, locally called sand plums, although for some reason I was CERTAIN that my mother had taught me they were called Japanese plums. I thought then, and think now, that those inky purple leaves and faintly bloodied white blossoms are the most achingly beautiful sign of spring. As a particularly sentimental child, I earmarked such literary encounters as On The Banks of Plum Creek and a sweet story of a plum tree and a lonely girl in Japan as references for my personal aesthetic. Connected, of course, only by the reference to plums, these two titles nevertheless seem to have echoes in later years- of course my fascination with westward expansion has never palled, and then there was that naive trip to Japan.

Plums themselves, in fact, rarely satisfy. The flesh never seems to quite compensate for the bite of the tart skin. Apparently, however, I have not been persistent enough. Browsing through the internet's offerings about plums, plum compote, plum tart, plum brandy, plum PLUMs... it's clear that my exposure has been sadly limited.

Liz?

strange little world

2010-03-31T07:51:00.001-06:00

Everybody has their thing. Some people build model airplanes. Some people dress up like stuffed animals.

I like to go look for birds. And walk through the marshes, and the weeds. Like reading Shakespeare, it usually takes awhile to get in the zone. But eventually my vision and hearing become more sensitive, and I glimpse slight movements, and I hear faint twitters. Usually when I first head out, it has been so long since the last trip that I move from area to area very quickly, "seems like it's a quiet day here," and feel almost thirsty.

Far more successful is to choose a place and stay there quietly for an extended time.

I met a man who has mastered this patient, custodial kind of absorption. Without going into arcane detail, he discovered a pair of birds quite rare to Colorado. He has watched them for 5 months. He is by their tree in a the quiet cemetary, with them for many hours every day. He offers his charges to like-minded others, sending detailed descriptions of both the location and the birds' behavior. ("11:10 AM female left nest for snowbank")

People journey to this tree. Some of them come from very far away. The man is there, writing down the names of the pilgrims. He freely shares his equipment, his knowledge, and his philosophy. He told me that since he first sighted the birds and spread the word, over 500 people have visited.

My visit lasted an hour, maybe an hour and a half. In that time, our discussion ranged from the merits of exploring the local world deeply or ranging widely, the mistakes and regrets of parenting and desperate hopes to deliver some lasting code of ethics, and the tension between sanctuary and alone-ness- "nature has never let me down"- and the desperate search for connection to fellow humans.

He's just a regular guy, and freely exposed his flaws. He's not a holy man on a mountain.

But word of mouth sends people to him. He has a parlor there under the tree among the headstones, and people find him. He doesn't like them all, and he challenges and even baits some of them. He judges some of them, but then he grapples with his flaws afterward, and invites the next visitor into the struggle.

I did see those birds, they were exquisite, and I saw the babies gaping for what mama and papa brought back to the nest. That alone would have been a triumph that defined my day, my week, my season.

But meeting this strange man in his orbit was a rare cosmic collision.

jigsaw puzzle

2010-03-30T08:44:00.001-06:00

Almost 20 hours spent in creative production further clarified my personal aesthetic, added to my body of media and techniques, and improved my understanding of artistic productivity as related to artistic communication.
Communion with friends from my past reminds me that all the pieces can, and do, add up to a unified whole that is unique- and you know how important it is to me to be unique.

note to self

2010-03-27T07:44:00.000-06:00

An American Wigeon on a good hair day does not a Eurasion Wigeon make.

note to self

2010-03-27T07:23:00.001-06:00

Remember that sleeping at a hotel will not be easy. ALWAYS bring:

your own coffee and a decent sized cup
your own pillow
a humidifier
saline solution
advil

note to self

2010-03-27T07:23:00.000-06:00

Remember that not all vacation destinations are exotic.

the local paper will at best amuse, but more likely annoy
there is a reason why the television in your own home doesn't even work
there truly is such a thing as a cow town
and the politics there will stun you

A Good Talk

2010-03-25T12:41:00.000-06:00

Having been involved lately in more than one conversation with people from my past, I am particularly enjoying my new book, A Good Talk (The Story and Skill of Conversation), by Daniel Manaker.

His analysis sounds pretty interesting :The main part of a conversation, particularly with a new acquaintance, establishes some kind of common ground...finding that common ground and then moving beyond often has two stages... the Survey, in which the people involved discuss some important aspects of their identities...(and) Discovery, in which sometimes significant connections are unearthed.... Finally as conversation develops, the two people occasionally and often sporadically take on defined Roles, particularly when there are large age or status or other differences between them: confessor and confessee, adviser and advisee, pursuer and pursuee, hothead and cool cucumber, comic and straight man, new kid and old hand, and so on.

I have read only the first chapter, though, so although the progress of my various conversations certainly parallels his posited stages, the main reason to keep turning the pages is his incredible voice and hilarious sense of humor: I'm going to battle against talking about the dialogic differences between men and women, but sometimes I'm going to lose. Like right now: Women take longer to say good-bye than men do, and to see the certainty I have on this subject, however anecdotal that certainty may be, say out loud the name of the punctuations mark at the end of this sentence.

It's irresistible, isn't it?