I feel like I'm sloughing off more and more unwanted things in my life: guilt, an unhealthy sense of obligation, certain religious beliefs, old clothes, sleepless nights, low self esteem, relationships that are harmful. That's a lot, and yet, I feel an almost urgent sense that it's not enough, that I need to purge more of the *stuff* that's held me down and held me back for decades.
I want to get to a space that's even clearer of this emotional detritus. I want to throw out the internal and external clutter and live life for a time as though it were a walk through an open meadow - leaving the noisy city, leaving the looming buildings, on the path toward the hills. Always the hills: the oak, the promise of enough stars and moon to walk by night if needed. Through the meadow, to the hills.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Body Image Stuff
Uh, okay. The kind and encouraging comments to my post yesterday were a good reminder that I (still) seem to have an inaccurate sense of how I look. I appreciate the compliments. I just have to at the same time hush up the rationalizing (unhealthy) part of my mind that says I get compliments because either people are just nice that way, or because they don't have an accurate sense themselves of *other* people's body image. It gets so tangled up, doesn't it?
Anyway, the bottom line (whether or not it's an aging sagging bottom on me or anyone else) is that exercise does much for my self-esteem and general emotional state, and it encourages me to eat more healthy food - always a challenge after the Easter Bunny has visited. And I am SO glad to be exercising again, now that my knee is better. Spent a good long stretch of time on the treadmill today. Feel much, much better. I will stop making self-degrading comments on this blog, and will stop thinking them too, as much as I am able, more and more as time goes on.
Anyway, the bottom line (whether or not it's an aging sagging bottom on me or anyone else) is that exercise does much for my self-esteem and general emotional state, and it encourages me to eat more healthy food - always a challenge after the Easter Bunny has visited. And I am SO glad to be exercising again, now that my knee is better. Spent a good long stretch of time on the treadmill today. Feel much, much better. I will stop making self-degrading comments on this blog, and will stop thinking them too, as much as I am able, more and more as time goes on.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Experiment results
Now that Lent is over, I'm looking at how well I stuck to my 30 minutes of meditation, getting rid of one thing per day & (later) sleeping 8 hours a night.
Not terribly well.
However. I did meditate more than I had been, and I devoted at least *some* of every day to contemplative thought or spiritual reading. The habit has been started, and it's more natural to think of meditation as a part of everyday life. I did get rid of tons of stuff. Because I put aside so much for the charter school rummage sale (clothes, books, etc.), it probably averaged out to more than 40 things a day. But it was not one thing a day. I also, unfortunately, gave up running. Not something I expected to do. But a good test, all the same. I've learned that although my goal is to become more and more fit and to lose all the excess fat I'm carrying around, I now know that I can go 3 weeks without really running or even walking briskly and it doesn't mean that 3 years of slow and gradual work is completely gone. It shouldn't take much to get back on track physically. But the lack of running has affected my emotional state. If I don't run tomorrow, even a little, I'll go insane.
The sleeping 8 hours a night, which I only stopped doing 3 nights ago, was helpful. I feel it especially now that I've had too little for 3 nights. I'll try to make 7 consecutive hours my minimum requirement. I wish the same sometime soon to those of you nursing newborns all night or lying awake working on wedding details, or those of you who just plain suffer from insomnia.
Whispers of poetry nipping at my heels in the last 24 hours. Maybe something will come of it soon.
Not terribly well.
However. I did meditate more than I had been, and I devoted at least *some* of every day to contemplative thought or spiritual reading. The habit has been started, and it's more natural to think of meditation as a part of everyday life. I did get rid of tons of stuff. Because I put aside so much for the charter school rummage sale (clothes, books, etc.), it probably averaged out to more than 40 things a day. But it was not one thing a day. I also, unfortunately, gave up running. Not something I expected to do. But a good test, all the same. I've learned that although my goal is to become more and more fit and to lose all the excess fat I'm carrying around, I now know that I can go 3 weeks without really running or even walking briskly and it doesn't mean that 3 years of slow and gradual work is completely gone. It shouldn't take much to get back on track physically. But the lack of running has affected my emotional state. If I don't run tomorrow, even a little, I'll go insane.
The sleeping 8 hours a night, which I only stopped doing 3 nights ago, was helpful. I feel it especially now that I've had too little for 3 nights. I'll try to make 7 consecutive hours my minimum requirement. I wish the same sometime soon to those of you nursing newborns all night or lying awake working on wedding details, or those of you who just plain suffer from insomnia.
Whispers of poetry nipping at my heels in the last 24 hours. Maybe something will come of it soon.
Monday, March 28, 2005
The shipment has arrived
R. has safely made it flying as a "UM" (unaccompanied minor) to down south. She apparently told my sister that everyone on the plane had been screaming during the flight except for her. This was because the flight was bumped by a lot of wind. My sister thinks there were small children screaming on the flight but that was probably all.
Before R. left, she and S. and I stopped off at an airport restroom just prior to checking in at the gate for the mandatory pre-flight potty break. We'd already heard several rounds of standard announcements over the airport PA system: "Due to heightened security measures, please keep all baggage and personal belonging with you at all times...Please report any suspicious behavior immediately to airport personnel..." Etc.
As S. dried her hands, R. confided quietly to me, "I don't know - I'd call S. wanting clean hands pretty suspicious behavior."
Before R. left, she and S. and I stopped off at an airport restroom just prior to checking in at the gate for the mandatory pre-flight potty break. We'd already heard several rounds of standard announcements over the airport PA system: "Due to heightened security measures, please keep all baggage and personal belonging with you at all times...Please report any suspicious behavior immediately to airport personnel..." Etc.
As S. dried her hands, R. confided quietly to me, "I don't know - I'd call S. wanting clean hands pretty suspicious behavior."
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Easter Night
It was a low-key holiday. We didn't have guests over, because we're trying to make sure R is completely over her flu thing so she can go down to Grandma's a few days later than originally scheduled. D and S went up north to Grandmere's for a late lunch, so R and I lazed about the house, which was lovely.
Because D was home Friday afternoon with us, and because I've done very little running around, it has felt like a long weekend. It also helps that I haven't been to work since Wednesday. I'm really kind of dreading going back tomorrow, mostly because I feel some ridiculous sense of guilt for having not been there for two days - but I'm telling myself that it'll be all right. And it will.
We've started working on the front yard again. Or at least, we had started, right up until it the rain returned. More reason to post photos, maybe. The before, during and after shots. D is re-enthused about the project, and so am I. When we're finished, we should have a very unique and beautifully landscaped area in front of our house, and a gorgeous courtyard where we can relax, even if it's raining.
Because D was home Friday afternoon with us, and because I've done very little running around, it has felt like a long weekend. It also helps that I haven't been to work since Wednesday. I'm really kind of dreading going back tomorrow, mostly because I feel some ridiculous sense of guilt for having not been there for two days - but I'm telling myself that it'll be all right. And it will.
We've started working on the front yard again. Or at least, we had started, right up until it the rain returned. More reason to post photos, maybe. The before, during and after shots. D is re-enthused about the project, and so am I. When we're finished, we should have a very unique and beautifully landscaped area in front of our house, and a gorgeous courtyard where we can relax, even if it's raining.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Easter Eve
There are dozens of men gathered in the street in front of our house. They've been there for hours, talking non-stop and chain smoking. The street is littered with cigarette butts and there are trucks parked all along our cul-de-sac and out into the next street.
Technically, the men belong to the house across the street and one down, which is occupied by a woman whom I have seen perhaps 3 times in the last 2 years and her three daughters, who are between the ages of 7 and 13. The girls we see often, playing in front of their garage or riding bikes out into our street without looking and without being looked after. When the girls were younger, this unsupervised behavior bothered me a great deal. I used to be angry at their parents for their blatant neglect. Now, my anger has settled into a mild irritation, tempered by curiosity about what their mother does all day, sequestered in the house 24/7. Is she mentally or physically ill? Is she agoraphobic? Or a drug addict, unable to function normally because she is a slave to one addiction or another? Or is she somehow forced to stay home by the girls' father? The father is an angry-looking man of Middle Eastern decent who now and then pulls up in a big shiny black truck, gets out, smokes a cigarette, and squares his shoulders before going into the house with all the enthusiasm of a death row inmate.
But what about the men, you're wondering. Why are there dozens of men outside their house, and our house, and several other houses around us?
As two of the strangers took the time to tell me (apologizing for the crowd), there has been a death in the family. It seems that the girls' uncle dropped dead of a heart attack yesterday while working. He was 40. Ten days earlier, the dead mans' mother's sister had buried her 35 year old son, also dead from a heart attack. There will be an autopsy and then a service on Wednesday for the uncle. I haven't been able to piece together whether it was the girls' mother's brother or their father's brother, but since I don't think the father really lives here, I suspect it was the mother's brother. People are flying in from "down south" to meet up here and talk and talk and smoke and talk. As one man explained, "He had a lot of buddies."
I was washing my car and the Escape (so I could take photos of it to sell it)when the men came over to speak to me. It felt strange, washing a car and playing with my five-year-old while all these men got together to try to make sense of someone dying so young. I was grateful to be well enough to do what I was doing, but the men lounging on our fence and leaning up against their cars a few yards away were a constant reminder that you never can tell. As the second man said to me, "You can be hiding in your house, sitting in your chair guarding yourself with a gun, but when it's your time, it's your time."
"Yeah," I said. It was food for thought while I rinsed the soap off my car. You may not always be able to control how or when you die, but you certainly have some say in how well, and with what dignity, you live.
Technically, the men belong to the house across the street and one down, which is occupied by a woman whom I have seen perhaps 3 times in the last 2 years and her three daughters, who are between the ages of 7 and 13. The girls we see often, playing in front of their garage or riding bikes out into our street without looking and without being looked after. When the girls were younger, this unsupervised behavior bothered me a great deal. I used to be angry at their parents for their blatant neglect. Now, my anger has settled into a mild irritation, tempered by curiosity about what their mother does all day, sequestered in the house 24/7. Is she mentally or physically ill? Is she agoraphobic? Or a drug addict, unable to function normally because she is a slave to one addiction or another? Or is she somehow forced to stay home by the girls' father? The father is an angry-looking man of Middle Eastern decent who now and then pulls up in a big shiny black truck, gets out, smokes a cigarette, and squares his shoulders before going into the house with all the enthusiasm of a death row inmate.
But what about the men, you're wondering. Why are there dozens of men outside their house, and our house, and several other houses around us?
As two of the strangers took the time to tell me (apologizing for the crowd), there has been a death in the family. It seems that the girls' uncle dropped dead of a heart attack yesterday while working. He was 40. Ten days earlier, the dead mans' mother's sister had buried her 35 year old son, also dead from a heart attack. There will be an autopsy and then a service on Wednesday for the uncle. I haven't been able to piece together whether it was the girls' mother's brother or their father's brother, but since I don't think the father really lives here, I suspect it was the mother's brother. People are flying in from "down south" to meet up here and talk and talk and smoke and talk. As one man explained, "He had a lot of buddies."
I was washing my car and the Escape (so I could take photos of it to sell it)when the men came over to speak to me. It felt strange, washing a car and playing with my five-year-old while all these men got together to try to make sense of someone dying so young. I was grateful to be well enough to do what I was doing, but the men lounging on our fence and leaning up against their cars a few yards away were a constant reminder that you never can tell. As the second man said to me, "You can be hiding in your house, sitting in your chair guarding yourself with a gun, but when it's your time, it's your time."
"Yeah," I said. It was food for thought while I rinsed the soap off my car. You may not always be able to control how or when you die, but you certainly have some say in how well, and with what dignity, you live.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Tag-team plague
We left for the field trip with D sick and S not feeling too hot either, and when we arrived back this afternoon, R immediately succumbed to whatever new development she'd been fighting off, and I'm apparently not too far behind her. Thank God she didn't have a 100 degree fever and all the glorious aches and chills that go with it while we slept on wooden floors at the fort.
So where I would have been posting lively, entertaining stories about night watch and firing the cannon, instead I can only post this brief "we're back and all is (kinda) well," entry, and then lie down and wait for the fever and queasiness to pass. We've postponed the flight to Grandma's rather than have her and Aunt J experience Typhoid-Mary-On-Spring-Break.
You know, I like to think that if terrorists attacked us using biological weapons, or if the next version of the Spanish Flu hit, somehow my family and I would be just fine. We're strong. We'd fight it off, or not get it at all. We'd be spared. We would be among the statistics of the survivors. But when we're sick like this (and have been sick off and on for a while, now), I realize that my "it won't happen to me" logic is what keeps data recovery companies in business. Really, you never can tell. Gotta watch out for that hubris. Consider me humbled. Nauseous, and humbled.
So where I would have been posting lively, entertaining stories about night watch and firing the cannon, instead I can only post this brief "we're back and all is (kinda) well," entry, and then lie down and wait for the fever and queasiness to pass. We've postponed the flight to Grandma's rather than have her and Aunt J experience Typhoid-Mary-On-Spring-Break.
You know, I like to think that if terrorists attacked us using biological weapons, or if the next version of the Spanish Flu hit, somehow my family and I would be just fine. We're strong. We'd fight it off, or not get it at all. We'd be spared. We would be among the statistics of the survivors. But when we're sick like this (and have been sick off and on for a while, now), I realize that my "it won't happen to me" logic is what keeps data recovery companies in business. Really, you never can tell. Gotta watch out for that hubris. Consider me humbled. Nauseous, and humbled.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Ha! Fooled you.
You thought maybe I'd forget that I wouldn't be home tonight to blog and that I'd miss a day? Well, ha!
In half an hour, we'll be at the elementary school grounds, in costume, with 15 other children and 10 other adults in costume. You gotta love that ratio of parents to kids. It may be the only thing that'll keep us from going crazy. Sure, there is such a thing as too many chiefs, but I knowing the lively bunch of 4th graders we're taking with us, I think it's better this way.
I'll report back on the trip tomorrow. До свидания! (Dosvidanya!)
Signing out -"Pavel"
In half an hour, we'll be at the elementary school grounds, in costume, with 15 other children and 10 other adults in costume. You gotta love that ratio of parents to kids. It may be the only thing that'll keep us from going crazy. Sure, there is such a thing as too many chiefs, but I knowing the lively bunch of 4th graders we're taking with us, I think it's better this way.
I'll report back on the trip tomorrow. До свидания! (Dosvidanya!)
Signing out -"Pavel"
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
For the record...
I was in bed and asleep more than two hours ago, and I got up to blog and to do a few more things to prepare for tomorrow's trip. I'll get up early, finish the last of the packing, and we'll be ready to go. Looks like I won't have to drive the new car since they already have so many drivers, and that suits me just fine.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Next item in the social calendar, please...
So I survived another business tour/lunch/meeting with representatives from a Japanese company. I'm learning a lot and am gaining confidence by observing the more experienced sales execs in the company and the company owners, but I still don't feel like a natural, and I don't think I'll ever be the CEO of a corporation.
Now it's all about gearing up for the 4th grade historical reenactment field trip to Fort Ross. We leave the day after tomorrow, come back the following day, and in less than 24 hours after we get back, R will be on a plane (her first time flying without a family member) on her way to Grandma's for Spring Break.
And in the middle of it all, as much as I hate to complain, my joints are so stiff and sore that I can hardly go up or down stairs or do a shoulder check while driving. According to the CDC web site, joint pain in the knees and hands is a common symptom for adults who get Slapped Cheek Disease (aka Fifths Disease). Yes, that's right. It's not just for kids anymore. I noticed the tell-tale rashes the other day, and now I'm showing the rest of the symptoms. I'm just grateful to have an explanation for it. I mean, when you wake up in the morning and your elbows hurt, you want it to be something like a passing virus instead of, say, a brain tumor or an alien setting up shop in your vital organs.
It's officially Spring but the end of the rain is nowhere sight. The 4th graders will likely get a big dose of what-it-was-like for the Russians, Creoles, Alaskans and Kashaya Pomo Indians who lived at or near the Fort in the early 19th century. No space heaters or hot running water for them. And even if there was vodka to keep the original inhabitants toasty, our kids will have to settle for hot chocolate while they're on night watch. Or, more likely, lukewarm chocolate with a shot of rain water for added flavor.
Now it's all about gearing up for the 4th grade historical reenactment field trip to Fort Ross. We leave the day after tomorrow, come back the following day, and in less than 24 hours after we get back, R will be on a plane (her first time flying without a family member) on her way to Grandma's for Spring Break.
And in the middle of it all, as much as I hate to complain, my joints are so stiff and sore that I can hardly go up or down stairs or do a shoulder check while driving. According to the CDC web site, joint pain in the knees and hands is a common symptom for adults who get Slapped Cheek Disease (aka Fifths Disease). Yes, that's right. It's not just for kids anymore. I noticed the tell-tale rashes the other day, and now I'm showing the rest of the symptoms. I'm just grateful to have an explanation for it. I mean, when you wake up in the morning and your elbows hurt, you want it to be something like a passing virus instead of, say, a brain tumor or an alien setting up shop in your vital organs.
It's officially Spring but the end of the rain is nowhere sight. The 4th graders will likely get a big dose of what-it-was-like for the Russians, Creoles, Alaskans and Kashaya Pomo Indians who lived at or near the Fort in the early 19th century. No space heaters or hot running water for them. And even if there was vodka to keep the original inhabitants toasty, our kids will have to settle for hot chocolate while they're on night watch. Or, more likely, lukewarm chocolate with a shot of rain water for added flavor.
Monday, March 21, 2005
More visits from Japan
Tomorrow a 3-person contingent of American and Japanese businessmen will be visiting work, and I'll join them for the tour, lunch out at the golf course restaurant, and a meeting to discuss working together. I wish I hadn't forgotten so much of the Japanese I'd learned - but at least I've bought gifts that I can wrap up for them, and at least one of my suits fits me without looking too dowdy.
I can't wait to start running again. Last night I dreamt that I was running a half marathon, and when I reached the 13 mile mark, I just kept going. I decided I felt so good, I might as well try for a full marathon. I reached 20 miles and still felt great, then found out or remembered that there was no finish line for a marathon distance. And so I turned around and headed back, believing it was better to have an official way to mark what I had done, a recorded time, and to enjoy the recognition of the crowd, than to have run far and well alone and have no public way to measure what I'd accomplished. As I write this, I realize how telling it sounds.
I think of myself as a loner daring to be different (see previous self-confessed geek posts). And yet, I am bound by a sense of doing things decently and in order, following the Presbyterian tradition. Does my dream mean that I am afraid to go it alone in life, even when I have the strength, potentially, to do so? Or does it mean that I recognize that no man is an island and that I am after all a part of society, of a larger organism? Probably the former, although there wasn't so much a sense of fear in my dream as there was a light sprinkling of both anxiety and dread.
I must remember how strong I felt leaving the official race course behind and finding my own trail.
And I must remember how to say, "Nice to meet you," in Japanese.
I can't wait to start running again. Last night I dreamt that I was running a half marathon, and when I reached the 13 mile mark, I just kept going. I decided I felt so good, I might as well try for a full marathon. I reached 20 miles and still felt great, then found out or remembered that there was no finish line for a marathon distance. And so I turned around and headed back, believing it was better to have an official way to mark what I had done, a recorded time, and to enjoy the recognition of the crowd, than to have run far and well alone and have no public way to measure what I'd accomplished. As I write this, I realize how telling it sounds.
I think of myself as a loner daring to be different (see previous self-confessed geek posts). And yet, I am bound by a sense of doing things decently and in order, following the Presbyterian tradition. Does my dream mean that I am afraid to go it alone in life, even when I have the strength, potentially, to do so? Or does it mean that I recognize that no man is an island and that I am after all a part of society, of a larger organism? Probably the former, although there wasn't so much a sense of fear in my dream as there was a light sprinkling of both anxiety and dread.
I must remember how strong I felt leaving the official race course behind and finding my own trail.
And I must remember how to say, "Nice to meet you," in Japanese.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Palm Sunday, nowhere near Jerusalem
I've reached another not-going-to-church milestone: Palm Sunday, and the kids were not there parading around the congregation at First Presbyterian, and I was not contemplating Jesus coming to Jerusalem. Not until I saw the calendar - checking to see when my 2 weeks of 8-hours-a-night dare is up - and I noticed the label for today. "Palm Sunday / Vernal Equinox."
I took a "Which Religion is Right for You" quiz yesterday - not to find any real answers, just out of curiosity. I took it twice, tweaking my answers to be a little less middle-of-the-road for a few questions the second time, and it only strengthened the results. Apparently, I am by my nature or by my current beliefs, anyway, most attuned with the teachings of Buddhism. Interesting.
I realize that yesterday's post was just skipping across the surface of things like a light stone. I have so much more I could say, but I've been stopping myself for fear of offending or worrying some of my (very limited) audience. Which is again me putting social norms or politeness ahead of what I need to do for my own spiritual health. I really process things through the act of writing, whether it's indirectly with metaphor and poetry, or in a rambling philosophical journal entry like some of these blog posts have been. When I don't express the truths I'm reaching for and finding, I don't fully understand them or make them my own.
More to come on this, I'm sure. I now have 2 minutes to be in bed & asleep & still get the full night's rest that I've committed myself to. Bon nuit!
I took a "Which Religion is Right for You" quiz yesterday - not to find any real answers, just out of curiosity. I took it twice, tweaking my answers to be a little less middle-of-the-road for a few questions the second time, and it only strengthened the results. Apparently, I am by my nature or by my current beliefs, anyway, most attuned with the teachings of Buddhism. Interesting.
I realize that yesterday's post was just skipping across the surface of things like a light stone. I have so much more I could say, but I've been stopping myself for fear of offending or worrying some of my (very limited) audience. Which is again me putting social norms or politeness ahead of what I need to do for my own spiritual health. I really process things through the act of writing, whether it's indirectly with metaphor and poetry, or in a rambling philosophical journal entry like some of these blog posts have been. When I don't express the truths I'm reaching for and finding, I don't fully understand them or make them my own.
More to come on this, I'm sure. I now have 2 minutes to be in bed & asleep & still get the full night's rest that I've committed myself to. Bon nuit!
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Date night
While the girls were at the Parents' Night Out function, D and I went out for sushi, shopped at Trader Joe's together, watched a couple of episodes of The Simpsons, then picked up the girls. Maybe not everyone's idea of a nice evening together, but we also talked, uninterrupted, and giggled when only two sips into our drinks I couldn't say "Frank Lloyd Wright" correctly.
Earlier today, S and I had this theological dialog, started with a comment she made completely out of the blue.
S: Mommy, Jesus didn't make the world. God made the world.
Me: God did make the world. Do you think Jesus is also part of God?
S: Yes.
Me: And what about us? Are we also part of God?
S: Yeah. Everyone's part of God. We're in God's head.
Me: [excited by the concept] Are we? Like, we're God's thoughts? Or we exist in the mind of God?
S: Well, our house is really one of those little bumps in God's mouth.
Me: Oh. Like the little bumps on the top of your tongue?
S: Yeah. And Kira's house [next door] is the bump next to us.
Me: Oh. And the whole world fits in God's head?
S: Yeah. And the whales fit too. Now that God is grown up.
Me: [taking advantage of the prophet] And who were God's mommy and daddy?
S: Huh. Let me think about that. Uh.... Moses. And...Mary. Mary and Moses.
She then launched into, "Mary and Moses sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage."
Dining room table theology with a five year old.
Earlier today, S and I had this theological dialog, started with a comment she made completely out of the blue.
S: Mommy, Jesus didn't make the world. God made the world.
Me: God did make the world. Do you think Jesus is also part of God?
S: Yes.
Me: And what about us? Are we also part of God?
S: Yeah. Everyone's part of God. We're in God's head.
Me: [excited by the concept] Are we? Like, we're God's thoughts? Or we exist in the mind of God?
S: Well, our house is really one of those little bumps in God's mouth.
Me: Oh. Like the little bumps on the top of your tongue?
S: Yeah. And Kira's house [next door] is the bump next to us.
Me: Oh. And the whole world fits in God's head?
S: Yeah. And the whales fit too. Now that God is grown up.
Me: [taking advantage of the prophet] And who were God's mommy and daddy?
S: Huh. Let me think about that. Uh.... Moses. And...Mary. Mary and Moses.
She then launched into, "Mary and Moses sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage."
Dining room table theology with a five year old.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Rainy Friday
Just as I was worrying that the new plants in the garden had gone a day too long without being watered, here came the rain again.
So you see, things do have a way of working themselves out.
Today the girls and I bought a new parakeet. And a new cage, and mineral block, and water bottle, and grit, and grit bowl...the animal itself is always just a fraction of the cost, and the cost, the financial cost, is just a fraction of what we pay out with our hearts when we become responsible for these other lives, isn't it?
She is blue, and her name is Houdini. Now, to my 10 year old daughter, Houdini was a marvelous escape artist, the namesake of a friend's late parakeet and of the hamster in Lynn Reid Banks, I, Houdini. But to me, and perhaps to other people of my generation and the one before it, Houdini will always be Tony Curtis in the 1953 film version of the man's life. I'll have to add it to my Netflicks account and see what I think of it as an adult.
On the way home from gymnastics tonight, I caught the middle of a Fresh Air interview with Karen Armstrong, and even though S said, "Pleeeeease turn this off, Mommy. This is so bo-ring," for once I didn't reward her for remembering to ask politely (if somewhat desperately) but instead hushed her violently and said that even if she whined and cried, I was going to listen to it. I would just turn it up louder than she could be. Does this mean that I love NPR more than my own children? Wait a minute. What kind of question is that? I'm striking it from the record.
I do remember being bored STIFF by my maternal grandmother's insistence that whatever else we were doing came to a grinding stop for the MacNeil/Lehrer Hour. But I knew that she still loved me. She just, for those 60 minutes, needed me to be very, very quiet.
Back to the Karen Armstrong interview, though. I find myself fascinated by religious scholars, many of whom are themselves seekers as well. And besides, she has an accent. I'm a sucker for an accent. I have mentioned that, haven't I?
Going to bed now (again - I'd been there for an hour before I got up to blog). Sleeping in tomorrow - hooray for the weekend!
So you see, things do have a way of working themselves out.
Today the girls and I bought a new parakeet. And a new cage, and mineral block, and water bottle, and grit, and grit bowl...the animal itself is always just a fraction of the cost, and the cost, the financial cost, is just a fraction of what we pay out with our hearts when we become responsible for these other lives, isn't it?
She is blue, and her name is Houdini. Now, to my 10 year old daughter, Houdini was a marvelous escape artist, the namesake of a friend's late parakeet and of the hamster in Lynn Reid Banks, I, Houdini. But to me, and perhaps to other people of my generation and the one before it, Houdini will always be Tony Curtis in the 1953 film version of the man's life. I'll have to add it to my Netflicks account and see what I think of it as an adult.
On the way home from gymnastics tonight, I caught the middle of a Fresh Air interview with Karen Armstrong, and even though S said, "Pleeeeease turn this off, Mommy. This is so bo-ring," for once I didn't reward her for remembering to ask politely (if somewhat desperately) but instead hushed her violently and said that even if she whined and cried, I was going to listen to it. I would just turn it up louder than she could be. Does this mean that I love NPR more than my own children? Wait a minute. What kind of question is that? I'm striking it from the record.
I do remember being bored STIFF by my maternal grandmother's insistence that whatever else we were doing came to a grinding stop for the MacNeil/Lehrer Hour. But I knew that she still loved me. She just, for those 60 minutes, needed me to be very, very quiet.
Back to the Karen Armstrong interview, though. I find myself fascinated by religious scholars, many of whom are themselves seekers as well. And besides, she has an accent. I'm a sucker for an accent. I have mentioned that, haven't I?
Going to bed now (again - I'd been there for an hour before I got up to blog). Sleeping in tomorrow - hooray for the weekend!
Thursday, March 17, 2005
The funny things kids say
So when I took R to the Dr. to get her the official notice that she had been seen and had Slapped Cheek Disease and not some other plague that would infect the school, the Dr. agreed that she had a classic case.
"Yes, yes, you have very red cheeks," he said to R. "And I see this rash here on your legs."
"I call it a 'lacey rash,'" R said.
"What, have you been reading the textbook?" he asked her.
"Well, no, I heard my parents talking about it," she explained. Then she added, "But once I did read the textbook, all about bloody noses. And back problems."
The Dr (who was not our regular physician but was very nice) said he thought we didn't really need him. He also suggested that R give a lecture on Slapped Cheek Disease some time, because she knew her stuff.
Then tonight after dinner, R said something about scurvy (it's a Spelling Word. Of course.), and D said, "You don't even know what scurvy is." Without missing a beat, R said, "Yes I do. It's a disease you get if you haven't eaten enough Vitamin C and your arms turn black and your legs turn black and your body swells up and you float away."
All D had left to say (after we'd stopped laughing) was, "Well okay.
But you forgot the part about your teeth falling out."
All for now...I'm being summoned for a quick round of the PowerPuff Girls board game before bed.
"Yes, yes, you have very red cheeks," he said to R. "And I see this rash here on your legs."
"I call it a 'lacey rash,'" R said.
"What, have you been reading the textbook?" he asked her.
"Well, no, I heard my parents talking about it," she explained. Then she added, "But once I did read the textbook, all about bloody noses. And back problems."
The Dr (who was not our regular physician but was very nice) said he thought we didn't really need him. He also suggested that R give a lecture on Slapped Cheek Disease some time, because she knew her stuff.
Then tonight after dinner, R said something about scurvy (it's a Spelling Word. Of course.), and D said, "You don't even know what scurvy is." Without missing a beat, R said, "Yes I do. It's a disease you get if you haven't eaten enough Vitamin C and your arms turn black and your legs turn black and your body swells up and you float away."
All D had left to say (after we'd stopped laughing) was, "Well okay.
But you forgot the part about your teeth falling out."
All for now...I'm being summoned for a quick round of the PowerPuff Girls board game before bed.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Resorting to poetry again
I don't know what else to say, right now. I'm sleeping 8 hours a night. I'm spending time in quiet reading of spiritual books and/or quiet thought during the day, although not the 30 minutes straight I'd want. But I do try for it. Daily. And so I am physically rested but still mentally stressed, mostly because the to-do list isn't getting to-done. Josh was right in his comment on my previous post, I guess. It's the great trade off. But my full-night's-sleep experiment isn't quite done yet!
One of my old favorites:
On Having Misidentified a Wild Flower
A thrush, because I'd been wrong,
Burst rightly into song
In a world not vague, not lonely,
Not governed by me only.
-Richard Wilbur
One of my old favorites:
On Having Misidentified a Wild Flower
A thrush, because I'd been wrong,
Burst rightly into song
In a world not vague, not lonely,
Not governed by me only.
-Richard Wilbur
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Late blog
You know it's a good sign on the sleep front when posting after 8:30 is "late."
What I haven't written about yet:
Taking care of other people's kids from 3-8pm Friday
Going to the redwoods Sunday, and how beautiful it was.
R getting two baby teeth pulled yesterday.
R getting sent home from school today for having slapped cheek disease - although for some reason, S, with the same symptoms and the same disease last week (and with the school knowing about it) was allowed to stay at school. Grrrr. This is me, frustrated. There. I'm over it. Thanks for listening.
The Dr appointment for R this afternoon.
Donald calling from the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and how D and I are both suckers for someone with an accent...
Time's up!
Must write earlier tomorrow.
Ah, how we sacrifice quality for the sake of daily dare-driven drivel!
What I haven't written about yet:
Taking care of other people's kids from 3-8pm Friday
Going to the redwoods Sunday, and how beautiful it was.
R getting two baby teeth pulled yesterday.
R getting sent home from school today for having slapped cheek disease - although for some reason, S, with the same symptoms and the same disease last week (and with the school knowing about it) was allowed to stay at school. Grrrr. This is me, frustrated. There. I'm over it. Thanks for listening.
The Dr appointment for R this afternoon.
Donald calling from the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and how D and I are both suckers for someone with an accent...
Time's up!
Must write earlier tomorrow.
Ah, how we sacrifice quality for the sake of daily dare-driven drivel!
Monday, March 14, 2005
The big challenge - going to bed ontime Monday!
Monday nights are D's night out, and so I'm facing getting to bed ontime & getting the girls to bed ontime without a backup, apart from the lights out in all the house so you'd better be in bed! plan.
I work for a company that depends on people either not having a backup or having a backup blow up in their faces. It's what keeps us busy. In my personal life, how often have I not allowed myself the luxury of a backup? Ha! In fact, I've caught myself just now calling it a "luxury" instead of a necessity. Hmmm.
WELCOME TO THE WORLD BABY ISAAC!! Julia's brought her second son into the world - congratulations to her, to Josh and to Eli!!! No new updates to her blog as of right now...uh, she may be a geek, but she's been a little busy... But I'm sure there will be updates there soon. Or check out Joshua's Journals for news.
R has just asked me whether she can have an online journal. Hey! Why not? I'll let you know when it comes into existence.
I work for a company that depends on people either not having a backup or having a backup blow up in their faces. It's what keeps us busy. In my personal life, how often have I not allowed myself the luxury of a backup? Ha! In fact, I've caught myself just now calling it a "luxury" instead of a necessity. Hmmm.
WELCOME TO THE WORLD BABY ISAAC!! Julia's brought her second son into the world - congratulations to her, to Josh and to Eli!!! No new updates to her blog as of right now...uh, she may be a geek, but she's been a little busy... But I'm sure there will be updates there soon. Or check out Joshua's Journals for news.
R has just asked me whether she can have an online journal. Hey! Why not? I'll let you know when it comes into existence.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Sunny Sunday
I wish I could have been home gardening all weekend, but after being gone yesterday, today spent a good chunk of the day taking S to a birthday party in the redwoods (40 minutes from home), and then later, going with D and the girls to get replacement cell phones (30 minutes from home). It was all good stuff, though, and I did manage to get the rest of the vegetables that we'd bought into the ground in between trips.
Am anxiously awaiting news of Julia's baby's arrival. Good luck and lots of blessings, kids!
My children are snuggled up to sleep in the big bed, and I too must go to sleep within about 5 minutes to get my eight hours, so good night all!
Am anxiously awaiting news of Julia's baby's arrival. Good luck and lots of blessings, kids!
My children are snuggled up to sleep in the big bed, and I too must go to sleep within about 5 minutes to get my eight hours, so good night all!
Saturday, March 12, 2005
lost in Blogworld
I've just spent half an hour reading various beautiful, wonderfully written blogs from all over the world, and am feeling both inspired and inadequate about mine, now. I started at http://lostintransit.org/ and went from there. Really. You could get so lost doing this kind of link-to-a-link thing.
I think the next thing I want to learn to do is post photos.
Writing more interesting, thought-provoking entries would also be nice, but hey, right now I'm just pleased that I've kept up the daily blogging so far this year. You gotta start somewhere. The daily meditative time and getting rid of things proceeds apace.
It was a long Saturday - spent taking the girls from one engagement to another, but all lovely & I got caught up in some errands too. I just wrote out the play-by-play sentence, but it was boring even to me (and it's my life), so I deleted it again.
After over a week of no real exercise and taking ibuprofin to help my knee recover, I'm going to hit the elliptical trainer tomorrow morning. I'm looking forward to running again so much I can practically taste it. But I'm going to go slow rather than end up with an injury that really keeps me away from jogging for longer than 10-14 days.
I think the next thing I want to learn to do is post photos.
Writing more interesting, thought-provoking entries would also be nice, but hey, right now I'm just pleased that I've kept up the daily blogging so far this year. You gotta start somewhere. The daily meditative time and getting rid of things proceeds apace.
It was a long Saturday - spent taking the girls from one engagement to another, but all lovely & I got caught up in some errands too. I just wrote out the play-by-play sentence, but it was boring even to me (and it's my life), so I deleted it again.
After over a week of no real exercise and taking ibuprofin to help my knee recover, I'm going to hit the elliptical trainer tomorrow morning. I'm looking forward to running again so much I can practically taste it. But I'm going to go slow rather than end up with an injury that really keeps me away from jogging for longer than 10-14 days.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Up late
But I've tried 3 times to write and post this blog entry only to have it blow away each time because I'm using an unusual browser ver. Grrrr.
At any rate, because I can sleep in until after 5am tomorrow, I'm allowed to stay up this late, or even later, and still get my 8 hrs sleep. Hooray!
I'd like to create links to my friend's blogs, but that keeps overwriting everything I write. So look to the border links to Kate, Julia, Clare & Suzanne's blogs. Worth the read, every one!
At any rate, because I can sleep in until after 5am tomorrow, I'm allowed to stay up this late, or even later, and still get my 8 hrs sleep. Hooray!
I'd like to create links to my friend's blogs, but that keeps overwriting everything I write. So look to the border links to Kate, Julia, Clare & Suzanne's blogs. Worth the read, every one!
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Sleep and Force Fields
The best thing about having made up my mind that I'd try for a "full" night's sleep, and about having subsequently been DARED to follow through for two weeks by the gravid goddess, Julia, is that now I can feel empowered (okay...maybe "justified" is a better word) to do something that, really, I love to do anyway.
As a child, I was often happy to go to bed so I could play out adventures in my head, imagining new Robin Hood or King Arthur stories where I was the kid sister/gypsy/peasant girl that everyone accepted/loved/protected/admired. This was pre-Star Wars, but for science fiction stories, I had Star Trek material and, later, the John Christopher books such as The White Mountains series. For fantasy reference, there were the Susan Cooper, Lloyd Alexander and C.S. Lewis volumes.
Yes, I am a geek. It's already been established.
But I'm not alone!
Two nights ago at dinner, our 5-year-old demonstrated that she's reached another rung in the Geek-in-Training ladder. She had already finished her dinner, but R, D and I were still eating, and we were having a mundane but involved conversation about something while S happily scribbled away, working hard on what looked like a rainbow Pegasus. (Although it could also have been a tall dog with a big golden growth on its back, perhaps inspired by Alby's recent tick episode. It's hard to say.)
Anyway, the 3 of us "older" members of the family were all having this amiable discussion about the weather, or school or something, and suddenly S announces with great enthusiasm to no one in particular,
"MY HORSE'S WINGS HAVE A FORCE FIELD AROUND THEM!!"
I laughed so suddenly and so hard that I actually spit tiny projectile pieces of turkey loaf at my husband across the table.
I mean, you know that earnest pencil-protector nerd gusto, the kind that usually comes out of High School Astronomy Club Members or Ant Farm aficionados?
Uh. Well.
Anyway, you know the nasal importance that you hear when someone says something like, "Well, it's a well-known fact that Thorium -233 has a half-life of approximately 22 minutes..."?
S had that kind of intense conviction in her FORCE FIELD statement. And that kind of socially challenged timing.
We all laughed, but you could tell that we all, each of us, was actually very proud of S for putting a force field around her horse's wings. We approved.
The conversation moved to force fields and how COOL they are.
I think D in particular wished he had a personal force field that would deflect turkey-loaf-particles, for example.
As a child, I was often happy to go to bed so I could play out adventures in my head, imagining new Robin Hood or King Arthur stories where I was the kid sister/gypsy/peasant girl that everyone accepted/loved/protected/admired. This was pre-Star Wars, but for science fiction stories, I had Star Trek material and, later, the John Christopher books such as The White Mountains series. For fantasy reference, there were the Susan Cooper, Lloyd Alexander and C.S. Lewis volumes.
Yes, I am a geek. It's already been established.
But I'm not alone!
Two nights ago at dinner, our 5-year-old demonstrated that she's reached another rung in the Geek-in-Training ladder. She had already finished her dinner, but R, D and I were still eating, and we were having a mundane but involved conversation about something while S happily scribbled away, working hard on what looked like a rainbow Pegasus. (Although it could also have been a tall dog with a big golden growth on its back, perhaps inspired by Alby's recent tick episode. It's hard to say.)
Anyway, the 3 of us "older" members of the family were all having this amiable discussion about the weather, or school or something, and suddenly S announces with great enthusiasm to no one in particular,
"MY HORSE'S WINGS HAVE A FORCE FIELD AROUND THEM!!"
I laughed so suddenly and so hard that I actually spit tiny projectile pieces of turkey loaf at my husband across the table.
I mean, you know that earnest pencil-protector nerd gusto, the kind that usually comes out of High School Astronomy Club Members or Ant Farm aficionados?
Uh. Well.
Anyway, you know the nasal importance that you hear when someone says something like, "Well, it's a well-known fact that Thorium -233 has a half-life of approximately 22 minutes..."?
S had that kind of intense conviction in her FORCE FIELD statement. And that kind of socially challenged timing.
We all laughed, but you could tell that we all, each of us, was actually very proud of S for putting a force field around her horse's wings. We approved.
The conversation moved to force fields and how COOL they are.
I think D in particular wished he had a personal force field that would deflect turkey-loaf-particles, for example.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Day 1 of sleeping 8 hours at night
You'll notice that it's only a little after 8pm that I'm posting this. This is not me back-dating the time.
My evening chores are finished. Check.
I've gotten rid of TONS of stuff today. Check.
My 30 minutes of meditation/reflection is done. Check.
Just need to read a Golly Sisters book to the girls, and it's bedtime.
It feels like a holiday, somehow.
Here's a poem by Terry Ehret, the Poet Laureate of Sonoma county:
Thirst
This year I've felt the push of antlers
thrusting out of my head.
I've leaned my head many times toward the grass, stretching
my neck to drink. This year
I've awoken from the catacombs of sleep,
my cheeks wet with spring water,
my heart beating like a river
sprung from rock.
Kind of a nice follow-up to the other deer poems, I think.
Did I mention that S has Slapped-Cheek Disease? It's not as bad as it sounds. She's really fine, but boy are her cheeks red!
My evening chores are finished. Check.
I've gotten rid of TONS of stuff today. Check.
My 30 minutes of meditation/reflection is done. Check.
Just need to read a Golly Sisters book to the girls, and it's bedtime.
It feels like a holiday, somehow.
Here's a poem by Terry Ehret, the Poet Laureate of Sonoma county:
Thirst
This year I've felt the push of antlers
thrusting out of my head.
I've leaned my head many times toward the grass, stretching
my neck to drink. This year
I've awoken from the catacombs of sleep,
my cheeks wet with spring water,
my heart beating like a river
sprung from rock.
Kind of a nice follow-up to the other deer poems, I think.
Did I mention that S has Slapped-Cheek Disease? It's not as bad as it sounds. She's really fine, but boy are her cheeks red!
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Sleepiness
I just took the Daytime Sleepiness Test at the Sleep Foundation's site. According to the standard Epworth Sleepiness Scale (ESS), I should be seen by an expert. The site says if your score is over 10, you should "consider discussing these results with your physician or other health care provider." My score was 15.
So what does this mean? This means I either have a sleep disorder, or I am chronically sleep deprived.
Don't everyone fall over backwards, now.
Although I do (as far as I can tell) spend a huge percentage of the night dreaming, and therefore probably am in a less deep sleep than I should be, I think the real problem is the 5-6 hours of sleep I get from Sunday-Thursday night.
What does this mean?
Well, it means that to find out whether the problem is too little sleep or something else like sleep apnea (which I do have something of a history with), I'm going to rule out the former by seriously trying to get 8hrs a night. This, sadly, means going to bed at 8:30 and being asleep before 9pm. The kids may end up tucking me in! But it will be interesting to see how much more awake & alert it makes me!
So what does this mean? This means I either have a sleep disorder, or I am chronically sleep deprived.
Don't everyone fall over backwards, now.
Although I do (as far as I can tell) spend a huge percentage of the night dreaming, and therefore probably am in a less deep sleep than I should be, I think the real problem is the 5-6 hours of sleep I get from Sunday-Thursday night.
What does this mean?
Well, it means that to find out whether the problem is too little sleep or something else like sleep apnea (which I do have something of a history with), I'm going to rule out the former by seriously trying to get 8hrs a night. This, sadly, means going to bed at 8:30 and being asleep before 9pm. The kids may end up tucking me in! But it will be interesting to see how much more awake & alert it makes me!
Monday, March 07, 2005
Those pesky bugs
When I was a kid, while most little girls of my generation were dreaming of being nurses or teachers or moms or veterinarians (the most daring cross-gender role imaged at the time), I wanted to be an entomologist. It might have helped that my Dad's nick-name for me was "Bug" because of my "spots" (freckles) but also, I liked Daddy Longlegs and beetles and butterflies and snails, and I had a real thing for ants. I still do, actually. I mean, I was a card carrying member of the Uncle Milton Ant Farm Club. I could go on ad infANTitm (get it? ha!) about Formicidae and why they're so COOL.
Also, I'm fortunate enough to be usually left alone by fleas, and often left alone by mosquitoes (must be the garlic). But for some reason, ticks love me. Go figure. I can't tell you how many times I've picked up ticks when camping or hiking or running around in the hills as a kid in Southern California. No Lyme disease, thank God, but plenty of ticks.
Tonight R found a swollen tick the size of Nebraska in our dog, Albion, and so after the girls were tucked into bed, I double-checked my methodology online and discarded the family's traditional Campophenic (we don't have any anyway) and hot needle in exchange for a pair of tweezers and a serious chat with the tick. "Look," I told the tick, "You've taken more than your fair share of this dog's blood. There's no point being greedy. I mean, any more and he'll become anemic. Also, you glutton, there is such a thing as too much. Time to come out. All of you. This means your head, too - don't try to fool me into thinking I don't need all the pieces, here. That's it, back out. Let go. The free lunch is over."
It took friggin' 10 minutes, while the dog lay there like an angel. Probably too weak from blood loss to protest.
I got the whole thing. And because I'm still an entomologist at heart, and am married to the same kind of geek, I kept the tick to show D when he gets home later tonight. I am not trying to gross anyone into going into labor (Julia); just stating the facts, here, ma'am.
And now I have to go outside and rescue the new plants that haven't quite made it into the garden from the slugs and pillbugs and other creatures who are even now making their slow progress toward the tender little leaves....
Also, I'm fortunate enough to be usually left alone by fleas, and often left alone by mosquitoes (must be the garlic). But for some reason, ticks love me. Go figure. I can't tell you how many times I've picked up ticks when camping or hiking or running around in the hills as a kid in Southern California. No Lyme disease, thank God, but plenty of ticks.
Tonight R found a swollen tick the size of Nebraska in our dog, Albion, and so after the girls were tucked into bed, I double-checked my methodology online and discarded the family's traditional Campophenic (we don't have any anyway) and hot needle in exchange for a pair of tweezers and a serious chat with the tick. "Look," I told the tick, "You've taken more than your fair share of this dog's blood. There's no point being greedy. I mean, any more and he'll become anemic. Also, you glutton, there is such a thing as too much. Time to come out. All of you. This means your head, too - don't try to fool me into thinking I don't need all the pieces, here. That's it, back out. Let go. The free lunch is over."
It took friggin' 10 minutes, while the dog lay there like an angel. Probably too weak from blood loss to protest.
I got the whole thing. And because I'm still an entomologist at heart, and am married to the same kind of geek, I kept the tick to show D when he gets home later tonight. I am not trying to gross anyone into going into labor (Julia); just stating the facts, here, ma'am.
And now I have to go outside and rescue the new plants that haven't quite made it into the garden from the slugs and pillbugs and other creatures who are even now making their slow progress toward the tender little leaves....
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Rat blog
D selected the title for tonight's post. Because I am all but asleep, he thinks I should let Beatrice our rat blog tonight. I can simulate what should would say by pretending my fingers are four little rat paws running willy-nilly on the keyboard, but I'm afraid of actually letting her create her post because she just might either:
a) type a series of "hidden" Microsoft commands and lock up my keyboard and initiate a head-crash of my hard drives. (You'd be surprised how many customers think that the grinding and screaming of their hard drives is a virus), or
b) write Hamlet. And that would just be too humiliating for the monkeys.
I learned by chance (obsessively googling "Jean Reno") that UPS has put out a commercial that will air outside the U.S. staring old what's-his-face himself. You can watch it by going to the bottom of this page and clicking on the link to "Meeting of the Minds." Be sure to catch the last line.
That's it for today. I'll have to talk about the visit from Bulgaria tomorrow.
a) type a series of "hidden" Microsoft commands and lock up my keyboard and initiate a head-crash of my hard drives. (You'd be surprised how many customers think that the grinding and screaming of their hard drives is a virus), or
b) write Hamlet. And that would just be too humiliating for the monkeys.
I learned by chance (obsessively googling "Jean Reno") that UPS has put out a commercial that will air outside the U.S. staring old what's-his-face himself. You can watch it by going to the bottom of this page and clicking on the link to "Meeting of the Minds." Be sure to catch the last line.
That's it for today. I'll have to talk about the visit from Bulgaria tomorrow.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Date night
It's been a good day. A long day, but a good day. The mundane rundown follows. Some material-to-fall-asleep-by, if you don't have any long Michener novels to read.
Up early to start some household chores and get breakfast rolling before delivering food and then taking S to ballet, returning the empty food delivery boxes, and then meeting the writer's group to chat and write. D picked up S from dance and took R to riding lesson, where I met him and we did our parental tagteam handoff. He came back home and worked on the 400 gallon Fishtank that he is making for our 2 koi (Lao Tzu and Yosho. I came back after the riding lesson and did some yard work, then took R to a friend's house, bought plants for the garden, gardened more with S's help, washed the car, then fed S dinner. Then D and I took S to the Parent's Night Out babysitting service put on by the local gymnastics club. We went out for sushi and (this is so exciting!) went grocery shopping together. It may not sound fun to you, but after an Asahi and a glass of plum wine, we thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. Get it? Grocery shopping? Sliced bread? I bet you wish you'd been with us, now.
After we picked up S, we did more chores around the house - company is coming tomorrow - and then settled into a companionable computer-using session. He's photoshopping a beautiful shot he took of a local view (from Cardoza's ranch) and I've been surfing the web and, finally, blogging.
Up early to start some household chores and get breakfast rolling before delivering food and then taking S to ballet, returning the empty food delivery boxes, and then meeting the writer's group to chat and write. D picked up S from dance and took R to riding lesson, where I met him and we did our parental tagteam handoff. He came back home and worked on the 400 gallon Fishtank that he is making for our 2 koi (Lao Tzu and Yosho. I came back after the riding lesson and did some yard work, then took R to a friend's house, bought plants for the garden, gardened more with S's help, washed the car, then fed S dinner. Then D and I took S to the Parent's Night Out babysitting service put on by the local gymnastics club. We went out for sushi and (this is so exciting!) went grocery shopping together. It may not sound fun to you, but after an Asahi and a glass of plum wine, we thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. Get it? Grocery shopping? Sliced bread? I bet you wish you'd been with us, now.
After we picked up S, we did more chores around the house - company is coming tomorrow - and then settled into a companionable computer-using session. He's photoshopping a beautiful shot he took of a local view (from Cardoza's ranch) and I've been surfing the web and, finally, blogging.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Population Growth
Julia is due to have her baby within a week (or so). She has blogged about people being surprised that the baby is officially due in a few days and yet she's still up and about. Imagine that! (They must not know her that well.)
I remember that with S (who was 2 weeks late and would have stayed longer if we hadn't made her come out and meet her fans), I was afraid to go outside after the due date only because my neighbors would express their impatience in accusatory tones. "Where is that baby?" they'd say, as though I were intentionally keeping her for myself. I worked until several days *after* my due date, and still felt fine. Yes, I seem to have the body type and high-pain-threshold that helps with childbearing. I'd have had a half-dozen children if it had been practical and if it weren't for my feelings that what we as American consume in the way of natural resources, energy, etc. makes it particularly crazy to have a huge population growth. Oh. And there is also the fact that D has strongly expressed that no, thank you, we do not need another child. He's only slightly less adamant about it than he is about us not getting a cat, but the chances for either are slim.
That's okay. The two children we have are so wonderful, we might as well quit while we're ahead.
I remember that with S (who was 2 weeks late and would have stayed longer if we hadn't made her come out and meet her fans), I was afraid to go outside after the due date only because my neighbors would express their impatience in accusatory tones. "Where is that baby?" they'd say, as though I were intentionally keeping her for myself. I worked until several days *after* my due date, and still felt fine. Yes, I seem to have the body type and high-pain-threshold that helps with childbearing. I'd have had a half-dozen children if it had been practical and if it weren't for my feelings that what we as American consume in the way of natural resources, energy, etc. makes it particularly crazy to have a huge population growth. Oh. And there is also the fact that D has strongly expressed that no, thank you, we do not need another child. He's only slightly less adamant about it than he is about us not getting a cat, but the chances for either are slim.
That's okay. The two children we have are so wonderful, we might as well quit while we're ahead.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Inspiration
I found these online and find them especially good for me right now:
You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience. You are a spiritual being immersed in a human experience. - Teilhard de Chardin quotes
In everyone's life at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the human spirit. ~ Albert Schweitzer
Check out this site I found for a huge collection of inspirational biographies and quotes.
I've been feeling decidely flu-ish today; dizzy, headache, nausea. Blech. Left work a little early, rested, then went to a Dr. appointment for my "clicky" knees. Apparently (thankfully), nothing more than the tendons being swollen, the Dr. thinks. Some motrin and resting it (no running, but maybe elliptical training at the gym is ok) until the swelling is better, and I should be okay. I was so grateful that the Dr. understood that I needed to be able to run again as soon as was sensible.
Took S to ballet (a make-up class) and R to gymnastics, made dinner, did the bedtime routine with the girls, then got up just to blog. D is immersed in his latest PS2 game. We'll have to have a date night this weekend so we can catch up with each other's lives!
You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience. You are a spiritual being immersed in a human experience. - Teilhard de Chardin quotes
In everyone's life at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the human spirit. ~ Albert Schweitzer
Check out this site I found for a huge collection of inspirational biographies and quotes.
I've been feeling decidely flu-ish today; dizzy, headache, nausea. Blech. Left work a little early, rested, then went to a Dr. appointment for my "clicky" knees. Apparently (thankfully), nothing more than the tendons being swollen, the Dr. thinks. Some motrin and resting it (no running, but maybe elliptical training at the gym is ok) until the swelling is better, and I should be okay. I was so grateful that the Dr. understood that I needed to be able to run again as soon as was sensible.
Took S to ballet (a make-up class) and R to gymnastics, made dinner, did the bedtime routine with the girls, then got up just to blog. D is immersed in his latest PS2 game. We'll have to have a date night this weekend so we can catch up with each other's lives!
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Early post
It's strange to be writing before 8pm, but I really feel like it's after midnight because I've had about 5 hours sleep 2 or 3 nights in a row. I'll be doing my contemplative reading/meditation/trying-not-to-fall-asleep time next, so best to blog now.
Yesterday, I finished reading The Radioactive Boy Scout. Living with an Eagle Scout who himself as a teenager had a fascination with less-than-safe chemical reactions, and who is to this day quite the scientific autodidact,I found the book fascinating.
The Amazon reviewers all talk about it being a quick read. That may explain why I finished it! In my old age and with my current lifestyle, I have become quite a slow and sporadic reader. Gone are the days when I could bury myself in a good book for hours on end. I seem to have passed that torch on to R., and D. never dropped his version of the same flame.
For her part, S. is just starting to pretend to read along with me and guess at what words are based on the letters she knows and on context, but because she attends a Waldorf-inspired school, she'll have another full year of Kindergarten before she officially starts to learn to read. I'm sure by then, she and I will be reading at home. I wonder if she'll be the bookworm the rest of us are (or in my case, were). If so, I envision really truly lovely evenings in the livingroom where we're all curled up with our respective good books. That, my friends, is my idea of quality family time as much as a pile-on-the-big-bed tickle session is. Better than Disneyland, better than all going to the movies together, better than Christmas.
Yesterday, I finished reading The Radioactive Boy Scout. Living with an Eagle Scout who himself as a teenager had a fascination with less-than-safe chemical reactions, and who is to this day quite the scientific autodidact,I found the book fascinating.
The Amazon reviewers all talk about it being a quick read. That may explain why I finished it! In my old age and with my current lifestyle, I have become quite a slow and sporadic reader. Gone are the days when I could bury myself in a good book for hours on end. I seem to have passed that torch on to R., and D. never dropped his version of the same flame.
For her part, S. is just starting to pretend to read along with me and guess at what words are based on the letters she knows and on context, but because she attends a Waldorf-inspired school, she'll have another full year of Kindergarten before she officially starts to learn to read. I'm sure by then, she and I will be reading at home. I wonder if she'll be the bookworm the rest of us are (or in my case, were). If so, I envision really truly lovely evenings in the livingroom where we're all curled up with our respective good books. That, my friends, is my idea of quality family time as much as a pile-on-the-big-bed tickle session is. Better than Disneyland, better than all going to the movies together, better than Christmas.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
St. David's Day!
So it's St. David's Day, which most of the few of you who read this blog already knew. I seem to be celebrating the occasion by writing. After weeks of being afraid to read my Yahoo poetry list emails because it might mean I'd get inspired, write something, and reconnect with my old poet friends (and who has the time or energy for that), I actually read some poetry list email, got inspired, wrote something, and sent it out to said friends. What is my world coming too? I'm actually feeling creative. And after 10pm too!
Here's what Dancing Bear had written:
Deer Flowers as Love Poems
Through the forest of Redwoods
the deer have stilted their way
down ravines and gullies, back
to this second place of life
they call their own for half
a year. They feast on our
well-watered lilies, our princess
flowers, our chinese lanterns
and roses. And we wait
happy in the knowledge
that what is tended to by us will
bring these delicate creatures
closer to us. Their wide eyes
carry all the fear we keep so
hidden within ourselves, they
are the caution we caution
against. They trust no one
but themselves, not even our flowers
which are only there so long
as we make an effort of them
And here's what I wrote, just this moment off the press. (Much darker than I feel, but apparently something I needed to say):
There is Nothing Soft About a Deer
Her body is hard lean bone, sheathed
in muscle, little else. The only
excess that takes hold in a deer
are the ticks that mine her blood.
A deer's eyes are liquid but don't
be fooled; they are shallow pools,
easily fathomed.
And if you are able to touch a deer -
say one by the side of a road, at rest
eternally; or in a park
display of the local fauna -
if you caress her stilled flank
with hope for softness blooming
like a rose in your chest,
you will find instead that the fur
is a short
sharp disappointment.
Here's what Dancing Bear had written:
Deer Flowers as Love Poems
Through the forest of Redwoods
the deer have stilted their way
down ravines and gullies, back
to this second place of life
they call their own for half
a year. They feast on our
well-watered lilies, our princess
flowers, our chinese lanterns
and roses. And we wait
happy in the knowledge
that what is tended to by us will
bring these delicate creatures
closer to us. Their wide eyes
carry all the fear we keep so
hidden within ourselves, they
are the caution we caution
against. They trust no one
but themselves, not even our flowers
which are only there so long
as we make an effort of them
And here's what I wrote, just this moment off the press. (Much darker than I feel, but apparently something I needed to say):
There is Nothing Soft About a Deer
Her body is hard lean bone, sheathed
in muscle, little else. The only
excess that takes hold in a deer
are the ticks that mine her blood.
A deer's eyes are liquid but don't
be fooled; they are shallow pools,
easily fathomed.
And if you are able to touch a deer -
say one by the side of a road, at rest
eternally; or in a park
display of the local fauna -
if you caress her stilled flank
with hope for softness blooming
like a rose in your chest,
you will find instead that the fur
is a short
sharp disappointment.
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