Girls' afternoon out

Today S. had an after-school playdate & R. and I did a little shopping and hung out together. I was surprised at how excited we both were at having the chance to spend time with each other.

An afternoon alone with R. is so different from an afternoon alone with S. It reminds me of the time I used to spend with my maternal grandmother. She'd alternate weekends with her 4 grandchildren, and she once told me that because we were such different types of people, she'd customize the activities to suit each guest. So with my oldest brother, she might play board games, and with my older brother, she might go for a walk. She and I would read or take nature hikes, while she and my sister might play cards. We all liked different things to eat, and all preferred different heirloom dishes to eat with. She spoiled us with her undivided attention and her appreciation for our uniqueness.

I can't say that my time with R. yesterday reached such magical heights, but we did feel conspiratorial while we gallivanted from store to store buying duct tape (and there's Another Blog Post waiting to happen) and earrings. We're doing it again tomorrow, too - whoo-hoo!

Run, Write, Shop

...a place-holder post for Sunday's activities. This is all for my own future look-back journaling reference, folks. At some point, I'll work on profundity again.

Company

...a place-holder post for the entry about 4 other moms, no husband or kids, and five bottles of wine...

Slamming the Poetry Slam

...a place-holder post for my experience at the local library at Poetry Slam night.

Such drama!

First there was a last minute plan for a classroom sleepover for the 6th grade, a reward earned for good behavior last year. Then (and for extremely good reasons) there was an even-more last minute cancellation.

I would guess that there were about a half-dozen kids who shed tears about this, but mine was one of the kids that pretty much cried herself to sleep about it.

Sometimes life's disappointments are so hard. Another mom said, "It may be that the lesson the kids have to learn is that the world doesn't revolve around their excitement." In other words, just because they collectively wanted the sleepover to happen so badly, and almost to a one had gotten their parents to sign off on it doesn't mean it was a good idea.

You tell me: a dozen especially high-maintenance, wild 11 and 12 year olds, one capable female teacher but no other chaperones, overnight in a classroom (and some reportedly planning to sleep outside) alone on an unguarded campus sharing a fence with a homeless shelter in a neighborhood in town known to have gangs. Hmm. Potentially a problem, here? Too many alarms started going off for too many of the more intuitive (or self-described "clairvoyant") parents. And even as pollyana as I typically am, I'd say there are just enough risks added together to make postponement in favor of a better plan a good idea.

But not all of these concerns can - right now - be shared with the kids - or even to some of the parents - because of the exponential drama it would create. So the message went out that it was too-last minute for too many parents and the logistics were such that we had to nix it. (But such wailing & gnashing of teeth anyway!)

I would like just ONE week without a flurry of emotional emails among class parents. I'm glad our kids are at this school. It has tons going for it and it's been great for the girls. I love this teacher and consider her a friend (although I agree there was poor judgement in this case), I am very fond of almost all of the other parents.

I just wish everyone would tone it down a little. Damn mass hysteria.

Yesterday's post today, again

It's just as well I don't have a Time Machine. I'd do no end of monkeying around. I mean, I'd stomp all over every butterfly in sight on my way to stop a cup from falling to the floor and breaking.

I'm easily distracted by unimportant things. Ooh! Look at that! No, wait, what's that? But I forgot about that, and oh- hold up, I have to - there's that, and oh yeah, look at this, too. Wow.

But something that IS worth checking out is Lisa's new blog, When I Grew Up I Wanted To Be A Horse.

Lisa has blogged daily for about a month now, and every entry is a good read.

Since Lisa is one of the people responsible for me having a blog entry for every day in 2005 (it was Julia's double-dog dare that started me, other friends' encouragement that kept me going, and Lisa's bribe of sushi as a reward for my diligence that really saved me when I was faltering), I may have to reciprocate the favor.

Except that unlike me, Lisa probably does just fine with only her own internal motivation. (But the offer of raw fish stands, Lis.)

There's always tomorrow...

Thanks to Julia for pointing me to Will Wheaton's post about procrastination and writing.

I don't usually read Wheaton's blog (although my husband does), but I sure appreciated his comments and the comments of his readers on this topic.

He describes the FORMULA for procrastination. At last! Now that I know what determines the behavior, I feel like I have more control in licking it.

I'm telling ya, hope springs eternal.

Thanks, I needed that!

You know how it is when you laugh until the tears are streaming down your face and you're shooting snot from your nose and, in the end, the funniest thing of all is how hard you're laughing?

Suffice it to say we had a good writers meeting tonight.

Bird Formations

Bird formations, San Rafael California. 12/23/06 4:30pm This is a fairly long video, but check out especially around the 3rd minute. Amazing.

Breaking the surface

I'm painfully aware when I write these quick daily posts that I could be saying things that are so much more significant, deeper. Worth writing. Worth reading.

I'd like to toss a stone into the still water and watch it go down. I'd like to note the stone's slight wobble, back and forth like a falling feather, as it sinks to the bottom. I'd like to meditate on the ripples that spread from its entry point.

Instead, I find myself skipping stones across the surface.

And worse than that - what I think is a stone ends up being just a piece of bark, and it doesn't even skip, but bounces once at most, and blows away.

Everybody sing! Rat's got the baby...

R. has a new pet rat, which she "earned" by keeping up with schoolwork and homework, keeping her room clean, taking more of a share of caring for the other pets, and maintaining a good attitude. This last is especially important when you're talking about a pre-teen.

I had mixed feelings about the possible bribery/threat component with "earning" something, and at times, R. said she wished she didn't have the pressure hanging over her. But she did a good job for the few months she was working for her pet, and in the end, it was some kind of agreement between her and D. to which I was not privy (I think it was mostly the attitude issue) which made the decision. He helped pay for the cage and food. She bought the rat.

I'll post a picture of R. and her baby, whom she named "Magpie," very soon. For now, here's a shot of me with one of our many rats. In the foreground you can just see the head of my grandmother's Schnauzer, Casey, looking up at me. I don't know whether he's looking at the rat or the ball, but this is a pretty cool testament to how comfortable I was with animals, even at a young age. (It's doubtful that the animals were as comfortable with me...)

Caught

Twice today when I was working on a poem, I got caught.

The first time, a co-worker walked by me while I was staring into space, and I jumped, and he wondered what I'd been doing. "Writing a poem," I explained. Although I was nowhere near pen, paper or computer.

The second time, I was driving the car with S. in the back, on our way to pick up her sister. We were stopped at a light, and while trying to form an idea, I did something with my right hand - just a gesture, like I was shaping clay in mid-air, I guess - and S. said, "Um, Mom? What are you doing?"

"I'm writing a poem," I said.



I've been thinking about the space I'm in when I'm creating - not just physical, but mental, physic, what have you.


I sometimes feel that I am an ecstatic.


But then my break is over, or the light turns green, or the dog needs to go out. I know I'm not alone in this dancing between practical life and the siren call of a Muse. But I had to write *something* for today's post, and here's what came.

"Not Fish. Snake scale!"

So for those of you who remember that scene in Blade Runner when Deckard is examining the photo of the replicants using a computer that allows him to see things in such detail (and around corners) that you never would have known they were there otherwise...

I had to think how close to reality that concept is now with the Gigapan camera. (Although you can't tell it "Enhance 224 to 176. Enhance. Stop." and have it listen to your voice. Yet.)

I heard a piece from PRI's The World yesterday where they described this device and what it can do. It's what's been used to create Google Earth, and maybe half the people (which would make 1 or 2 people) who read this blog have already heard of this long ago (I'm slow to catch on to these things), but still. This is, to me, anyway, SO AMAZING.

The camera is being used in a joint project from Carnegie Mellon University, NASA, Google, and National Geographic. The home page for the project is here. Check out the links to panoramas to see how incredible this tool is. As the team explains:

The project's long-term goal is to help us learn about and meet our neighbors across this globe, and learn about our planet itself.

The team is motivated by the desire to encourage global citizenship and understanding by connecting people, places and events through the utilization, exploration and sharing of dynamically viewable images.

A consumer version of the device is coming, as is are software tools to use in conjunction with it, and instructions for making your own, apparently.

And if I read slashdot more often than once in 2 years, I would have seen their article about Microsoft Live Lab's Photosynth, a software which "takes a large collection of photos of a place or an object, analyzes them for similarities, and then displays the photos in a reconstructed three-dimensional space, showing you how each one relates to the next."

As a kid, I loved to read science fiction. As a teen and young adult, I wrote science fiction. Now, it seems, so much of that fiction has become fact. There's a whole blog entry (or several) I could write about this, including what's happening on Mars. (D. is the expert on that.)

There's still plenty to explore, plenty of ideas to put forth that won't exist for a long time. There's still science fiction to write. It hasn't all come true yet.

But what an age we're living in!

Nothing Random

I'm reconnecting with poetry more and more these days, even as, this week, a poetry list I've been part of for 10 years comes to an end.

So because I'm trying to go to bed now-ish, and get more than 4 hours of sleep in a row (just to try something different), and in honor of poetry, I thought a link to today's Poetry Daily's selection would be a good quick entry worth doing.

And lo and behold, today's poem is Lotus Feet by Mary Cornish [read it! if not now then in their archives once it's there] - just I've started to catch up on the blog kept by Kate - aka Lotus Ice.

Nothing Random.

Why sleep when you can game?

Just now hitting they hay after an evening (ok, night) of gaming with the girls.

I know.

GEEK.

Sunday recap

The day in review, a "tea with the Smith's" post only for future reference and to meet my apparent intention to have a daily entries in 2007:
slept in until 8
fixed the kids breakfast
ran (8 miles)
wrote at Apple Box with writer's group gals (Welsh novel)
grabbed lunch for the kids (sandwiches)
helped 6th grade teacher clean classroom
home briefly
walked to grocery store with kids and dog
got ice cream with kids and dog (the dog & I had none)
walked home
dinner
bedtime routine
15 minutes of work on the 1000 piece jigsaw I started Friday
slept
got up to do dishes & laundry & blog

g'night, Irene.


:)

Dreamtime

A huge headache sent me to bed early, but I told myself I'd get up to write before midnight.

That worked about as well as it usually does.

I don't really sleep, anyway. I just have pauses between dreams.

All this 12th Night season it has been dreams and more dreams: of disenfranchisement: exile and exodus, fighting, fleeing, working, singing, speaking other languages, unrequited love.

A tip for the wary: do not let someone who thinks he is your friend tell the Queen, in front of members of the Court, that you and an unsuitable courtier have feelings for one another. Even if you haven't acted on said feelings, if they are untoward, the Queen will have to have you both killed for it. Or if she's feeling especially lenient (and because she really does care about you and your would-be lover), she'll only command you both to marry someone more appropriate. Immediately. Which can be more painful than a quick death, actually, because then you're forced to live out your lives apart from one another. *sigh*

I wish my 12-year old daughter would stop talking about Johnny Depp and the characters from the Pirates movies.



It apparently is affecting my subconscious.

Friday Friends

After about six weeks of being without a new episode of the old series Friends (we've been watching Red Dwarf instead), we got a little present from Netflicks today, so I don't have anything else to say except Happy Friday - the DVD player calls!

Help, I've fallen and I can't get up

Sugar is Evil.

And I may need some professional intervention to pull myself out of it's wicked, wicked clutches. I'll be putting notes to myself on the fridge next. Notes like: STOP!

This is a cry for help from somewhere under the cheesecake and fudge and See's candy and cookies and cinnamon rolls and chocolate dipped biscotti and marzipan fruit that I've been spending furtive time with like it was a long-lost, done-me-wrong-but-I'm-somehow-back-for-more lover.

help!

Oh, and Note to Self: "I'm training for a half-marathon" (even if I am) is not any kind of Magic Holy Water that will undo the vile results of binging on said Evil Sugar in all its nefarious incarnations.

Witnesses are beneficial, however. So thanks for listening, and for witnessing as I tell myself, "Pull up! pull up!"

This morning

What I Dreamed

It is the sacred greentangle, the jungle time
of the jaguar. I come to help with the start.
This: twin cubs coming into black fur again
from the womb before daybreak, before the next moon away.
Their woven vine nest cradles hang low in boa branches
Indra's nets suspended in the wet air. I come
to birth the holy and beat a hasty tattoo home.
But the jaguar purrs it means two years
apart this time, two years in the task alone.
Alone with Jaguar, and the cubs-to-come,
and a shaman made of shadows.
Shadows made of green.
Green that drips from canopy
to hotplate leaf-deep floor.




rbp 1/3/07






...first draft, 35 minutes of keyboard chatter and backspacing but I said I'd work on poetry for the writer's group gals, so here ya are...