Pixie dust, glitter, and sequins

2012 - Amaze

2012-01-01T19:37:00.000-08:00

I wish I'd invented this

I love each and every one of the thoughts on it. I've printed out a copy of it, on some very cool brown stock paper. I plan on placing it somewhere in my home, as a reminder to love the sentiments each day. Let's play!

My initials are GW - Go Places Wonder

What do your initials tell you to do?

OR.... new game.....

Go Places

Imagine

Never Quit

Amaze Yourself

I had already decided that my 2012 root word would be "amaze"

Be amazing

Be amazed

Recognize others and their amazing qualities

Notice things that are quietly amazing

Be in search of amazing

Create amazements

I think amaze feels like a straight shot of oxygen.

It will blind you, then insist you look again.

It will keep you awake at night,

and giggle behind your back.

I wish I had a Z in my name.

Ups and Downs

2011-12-20T09:13:00.000-08:00

Last week -
A jazzy tune

Uplifted, refreshed, happy, joyful. Cathy was here. Time was short, but full.
Anthropologie in Fresno.
Whole Foods shopping.
Late night drive in Kings County, in search of a country house.
Missy loving our friend.
Cathy learning how to get to Stratford.
A drive to Santa Cruz
Phil's Fish Market
Santa Cruz is more than the Boardwalk
Sea Cliff Drive
Rio Theatre
Brandi (thanks for bringing us to SC)
I scored a cool lunch box
Crepe House
My first time scaring a stranger
Little fear + much fear = balance
Another successful visit
The thrill in knowing we'll see each other again in a month
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
This week -
a melancholy ballad

Desiree
a baby losing her mother
a husband, painfully saying goodby to his love
parents, broken
friends, wondering why
me, cheated again
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cathy visited Briana last week. My message to Briana was that I am continuing to build my relationship with her. Even though I can't look into her eyes, I know her, and our friendship continues. I am still learning and growing with Briana, but on a different plane. She is my new friend.

I knew she was special. I knew she was gifted beyond her years and beyond this earthly existence. Briana was more. And, it made sense that Cathy would be the person to bond with her. Cathy is more, too.

Briana was the earth. She radiated groundedness. Forest faeries dance around her, with love.
She is the protector.

Desiree was another young woman, who I learned this weekend, was also "more". Her friends and family spoke of her with such honor. Such deep admiration. Everyone recognized her presence and her "beyond her years" gifts. She was a creative soul. She was a visionary for beauty.

One of her aunts said, "Desiree would take something that another person would throw out onto the side of the road, and recreate it into something beautiful."

Desiree pursued happiness, with a loving appetite. She was a cheerleader to others to pursue their happiness. She was loved, so deeply.

Desiree was the heart. She was a reminder that we have beauty all around us. Dewdrops glisten around her, with sparkle and light.
She is the sunrise.

Today, my heart is so heavy -
with love and good fortune.
I am grateful that I was able to know Briana and Desiree.

And, there is a heaviness of sorrow.
I wanted more time to know both of them.
Earthly time.

Their time was short, but full.

Feeling It

2011-11-21T06:32:00.000-08:00

I can feel my blog-on coming back to me. But, not right now. I want to blog, but the clock tells me I'll be running late for work. A semi-foggy morning, so not a good day to drive in a rush to work.

Maybe I'll see you tonight.

Leon Russell Willie Nelson Maria Muldaur Bonnie Raitt

2011-09-18T12:12:00.000-07:00

On my obscure youTube travels, I found this. "Trouble In Mind" was on the Willie Nelson/Leon Russell album, way back in the 70s. I listened to this "cassette" a lot, by myself (I really had no friends who wanted to listen with me). I have two vague memories of this song... one was while driving to Santa Cruz. The other was somewhere south of Pismo Beach, driving on Hwy. 101. I don't know where I was driving, but I experienced a strong memory flash when I heard this.

Cotton

2011-09-17T13:41:00.000-07:00

I just spend the past 2 days in an Apple training for using iPod/iTouches in my classroom with my students. SOOO much was presented, and I arrived at this training with no background experience, so most of the time I was in high frustration mode. On the second day of training, in the afternoon, with an over-saturated brain, we finished the training with iMovies. I loved this part, and was able to soak in the very lowest level, basic skills of creating an iMovie. My colleagues wondered about me and my enthusiasm, but mostly, they wondered why I had a complete series of pictures already downloaded onto my computer, of the progress of cotton growing.

What can I say? I'm the daughter of a cotton farmer.

Blackbird - Crosby, Stills & Nash

2011-09-14T22:36:00.000-07:00

Beautiful song. Beautiful cover. Group crush.

"Daily Om" - timing is everything

2011-09-02T07:08:00.000-07:00

I love it when I decide it's time to read the Daily Om that is delivered everyday in my email. I can't read it everyday, and quite honestly, I don't want to read it everyday. So, when I feel compeled to seek a message, to ingest some enlightenment, I'm so often amazed that the message is spot on to what I need to read.

I had a number of Daily Om messages in my inbox, but this happened to be the one I opened. It completely described what I've been trying to hold onto this week. Wow. Thank you!
Remember the Sun

The Sun Is Always Shining
If darkness has fallen, we know that the sun is still shining at this very moment somewhere not too far away.

There are times when gloom or darkness causes us to momentarily lose sight of the light. Although it is at these times when the thought of the sun can help us. Its warm, glowing rays brighten even our thoughts, and it’s good to remember that despite appearances the sun is shining right now. We may not be able to see it at this very moment, but if clouds block our view, they are only filtering the sun’s light temporarily. If darkness has fallen, we know that the sun is still shining at this very moment somewhere not too far away, and it’s only a matter of time before it will shine on us again.
When we remember that the sun is still shining, we know that things are still in motion in the universe. Even if life feels like it is at a standstill, sometimes all we need to do is have faith and wait for the time when everything is in its perfect place. Or we can we can choose to follow the cues of the sun and continue doing our work and shining our light, even when we can’t yet see results. In doing so we exercise our patience, making sure we are prepared when opportunity knocks and all other elements are in their right and perfect places.
The sun also reminds us that our own shining truth is never extinguished. Our light shines within us at all times, no matter what else occurs around us. Though the sun gives us daily proof of its existence, sometimes our belief in our own light requires more time. If we think back, however, we can find moments when it showed itself and trust that we will see it again. Like the sun, our light is the energy that connects us to the movements of the universe and the cycles of life and is present at all times, whether we feel its glow or not.

Sad

2011-08-30T17:26:00.000-07:00

Sad is a feeling
ride through it and don't avoid it.
It is a flu of the emotions,
It is a dullness in your color aura,
It is your gut thinking
you must have swallowed a poison,
and your body wants to purge it.

Disappointment.
Routines disrupted
Looking back hurts.
Looking forward confuses.
An unplanned challenge
that demands your strength,
while it weakens your core.

Sadness is real.
It is life and breath,
It is here,
for now.
It fades.
Don't fear it,
it is only a feeling
It is not defining.

No homework calls

2011-08-25T05:50:00.000-07:00

I must document this somewhere. No names will be used, to protect the innocent.

This year, I'm working on a team at school with two other teachers. We are sharing the same students, rotating throughout the day. The other two teachers have been working together for the past couple of years, so I agreed to follow their lead on their homework policy. Students who do not turn in their homework at school call home immediately and tell their parent. No excuses.

I don't permit my students to give me the excuse "I forgot". I know it sounds harsh, but they say "I forgot" as a cleansing phrase for everything!! Apparently, it is the universal response that erases all responsibility for anything.

The phone is right by my desk, so I hear these conversations, and I am realizing that these children don't have a lot of phone etiquette or experience. I can only imagine the parent answering their phone and hearing, "I didn't do my homework" ---- no hello, no identification, no pre-conversation niceties.

One student, in particular, is amusing me considerably with the phone messages he's leaving. 2 days of homework. 2 phone calls home.

Day 1 - "Grandma? I got in trouble. I didn't do my homework............ *pause*.............. say yes if you're mad. (remember, this was a message on the voicemail!)

Day 2 (remember, I don't allow them to say "I forgot". This was ingenious on his part) "Grandma? I got in trouble. I didn't do my homework, because of my memory................*pause*.................. thank you for hearing this."

After this message, I asked if his Grandma worked. Response? "No! My grandma is OLD!" I dare not check his records to find her age. I fear she's younger than I am.

Actually, he probably exhibited the most telephone savvy. At least he thought of a closing statement for each message!!

Honestly? I hope he misses a lot of assignments.

I wish I'd written this....

2011-08-19T06:25:00.000-07:00

I signed up online to receive these inspirations each day, www.dailyom.com. I don't read them each day, but on the days I decide to read it, I believe it is because the message is calling for my attention. This one was so beautifully powerful, I felt compelled to share.

A Great Teacher

The journey of water as it flows upon the earth can be a mirror of our own paths through life. Water begins its residence on earth as it falls from the sky or melts from ice and streams down a mountain into a tributary or stream. In the same way, we come into the world and begin our lives on earth. Like a river that flows within the confines of its banks, we are born with certain defining characteristics that govern our identity. We are born in a specific time and place, within a specific family, and with certain gifts and challenges. Within these parameters, we move through life, encountering many twists, turns, and obstacles along the way just as a river flows.

Water is a great teacher that shows us how to move through the world with grace, ease, determination, and humility. When a river breaks at a waterfall, it gains energy and moves on, as we encounter our own waterfalls, we may fall hard but we always keep moving on. Water can inspire us to not become rigid with fear or cling to what’s familiar. Water is brave and does not waste time clinging to its past, but flows onward without looking back. At the same time, when there is a hole to be filled, water does not run away from it in fear of the dark; instead, water humbly and bravely fills the empty space. In the same way, we can face the dark moments of our life rather than run away from them.

Eventually, a river will empty into the sea. Water does not hold back from joining with a larger body, nor does it fear a loss of identity or control. It gracefully and humbly tumbles into the vastness by contributing its energy and merging without resistance. Each time we move beyond our individual egos to become part of something bigger, we can try our best to follow the lead of the river.

Don't let the past remind us of what we are not now

2011-08-16T20:59:00.000-07:00

I've been on a Judy Collins wave. She helped me get my classroom prepared in a peaceful, unrushed way. So, I did some youtubing, and I found her with Graham Nash and Stephen Stills.

She and Stephen have a past together. The way they greeted each other. The delight in her eyes. The embrace from Stephen. These people have carried each other in their hearts. I know it! I can see it. I've been entertaining an innocent obsession with them since watching this. I've been thinking about relationships and love.

Just because a relationship doesn't lead to marriage and everlasting union, doesn't mean that it wasn't real. A relationship can be full of love, energy, and connection, but for a variety of reasons, it doesn't or can't progress for the long haul. This does not lessen it's value.

Timing is key. Personal paths and positions on the path. Sync. Alignments. Hearts. Purpose. The relationship does not deflate, lose value, nor become frivolous, simply because it didn't lead to marriage. I wonder how many people are carrying a relationship in their heart, a locked box with a tiny key hidden under a secret rock. Consciously ignoring it. Subconsciously embracing it.

Stephen embraced that relationship. He acknowledge their strength. Their union. Their love. That's forever. And always.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQ7rrszpJlI

Music Diaries

2011-08-09T22:58:00.000-07:00

I'm working on a project that sprouted this summer between Cathy and me. We have been creating lists, as a means of entertainment, since the 1960s. Go figure, the two people on earth who consider list-making a "fun" pastime, would find each other and become best friends forever. Probably because the chances of finding another list-lover was slim. And, Cathy ran the risk of the only other list-lover being some Asian girl named Kim Chee.

While visiting the Larson manor, we list lusted, "Let's make a list of our top ten, all time favorite songs."

Oh, this would be a list too wonderful to ignore! We started making rules (which may be altered, dropped, or stretched as we see fit).

"We'll make our lists privately!"

"Then we'll share and see how many songs are on both

of our lists!"

"Can we have more than 10?"

We were spiraling into a list-lovers' frenzy!!

Then other topics started to pop into our listy brains..........

Worst lyrics
Best sing-a-longs
Songs that make you cry
Songs you secretly loved
Songs you can't stand!
Annoying artists

We were making lists of topics for lists!! We were officially out of control.

I thought about this during my extended travels, and decided that when I got home, I was going to make hard-covered books that would hold all of our music loves and truths. I went online to find directions, and I started my book-binding process.

I'm hoping, by the end of August (probably September), to have the books finished. Each page will have a topic/question related to musical loves, hates, and memories. These books will be fluid, lifelong works in progress. They will tell your musical story.
My dream is for our first book sharing to be on the beach, in Santa Barbara. Then we can drive inland to Ojai and catch the pink moment.

Or, maybe back at the Larson Manor.

Would you like a book of your own?

Just get in the water

2011-08-03T08:11:00.000-07:00

"Just get in the water. You are protected."

This summer I stepped into the water. I didn't need protection, I just needed guidance and encouragement. It was the right thing to do. There was purpose in this calling to go to Sedona.

My gratitude is deep, for the gift of this summer. The fuzziness of my path gained more clarity. More trust, less waiting for guarantees. That was my lesson.

I was smart to fill my soul's tank with the South Jordan tribe. They fueled me good.

There's a dance going on inside me. Wild.

2011-07-09T08:08:00.000-07:00

Another day of hiking with my friends. I can tell, this is something I need to do as often as I am able. It is unfortunate that I live in a non hikeworthy place. It is fortunate that within 2 hours of driving time, either northeast, east, or southwest, I can be somewhere hikeworthy.

Last week it was the Sunset Trail in Sequoia National Park, on a rainy day in June. Layered clothing, yellow poncho, and frizzy hair. And sore legs, feet, thighs, and ankles for 4 days. A beautiful hike.

Yesterday, a shady, sunny hike to Tokopah Falls. This time, newly purchased hiking shoes, soft comforting hiking socks, a large ice pack in my soft backpack, and a water toting holster pack on my front. The gear is part of the fun!! Also, I was accidentally well color-coordinated.

This hike was easier, with less of an ascending trail. It followed the the Kaweah River, which offered energizing background sounds and random cool water particles.

Listen to the silence. There is much to hear.

Nature's perfume is mentally healing.

Feel the earth, through your feet and skin.

Stop often and give thanks.

historic walk

2011-06-28T10:37:00.000-07:00

The LHS all class reunion has come and gone. For one long weekend, we had the opportunity to revisit the 60s, 70s, and 80s, through old friends, shared stories, and heart links. Elementary and high school classmates, proof of our youth, witnesses to days of banana bike seats, bell bottom pants (green apple green), stolen kisses, piles of kids in cars with no one seatbelted, and the 14th Avenue drive-in.

We played softball, listened to the same music, dragged Main, and wondered about adulthood. We awkwardly learned social skills (some sooner than others), we criticized, loved, and crushed on teachers.

Together we were fresh and unwritten.

"Remember the time..."
"Have you kept in contact with...."
"Whatever happened to....."
"I was hoping..... would be here"
"Let's do this more often."

This is a reunion. A walk through your youth; now your history. Yes, I was once young. Yes, I had my turn, when the future was a long, mysterious tunnel, waiting for me to step in and write my story.

"You haven't changed a bit!" Such a funny remark, and heard throughout the crowd repeatedly! The accusation is thrilling, but if actually true.... a disaster.

The chance to spend time with people who have the ability to see your buried youth,
hidden behind the wrinkles,
the weight,
the gray hair,
the bald head.

And still, "You haven't changed a bit!"

Friends - who can look at you, and still see traces of the 17 year old you.

And for one weekend, you feel the joy in the rediscovery.

Life's Trapeze

2011-06-18T07:56:00.000-07:00

An article written by Donna Savage states:

"I am learning to live in what I think of as 'the space between the trapeze bars.' I let go of the bar behind me (the past) and the bar I am reaching for (the future) is not yet in view. In that freefall space, magic happens."

This idea caught me by the shoulders and asked for my attention. There is only one way to move forward, and that is to fly through the air.

"We are the divine embrace
Here to enter the space
Between the trapeze bars
The space betrween letting go
And catching on
Where all the magic happens.
I let go and for seconds
Free fall into the void of space
My hands outreached
In faith."

I spend a lot of time fearful of the flying space. I swing back and forth from my present bar, spending my time and thoughts longing for the next bar, but focusing on the possible drop. That bar of the future won't come to get me. It won't stop and let me step to it, with firm ground beneath my feet. I've got to fly.

30 Years of Teaching

2011-06-08T08:49:00.000-07:00

On the last day of school, June 2, I officially added the 30th notch to my
-years of teaching- belt.

I started my career in Room 8. After about 12 years, I was moved to Room 14. That was a tough move. Obviously, I'm a person who is comfortable with predictable surroundings. I WAS room 8. I became Room 14.

14 is a gang related number, so the numbers from my door were often stolen. We just couldn't keep numbers on my door. Then, the rooms were all renumbered, and I became Room 11. I really like living in the number 11.

I have logged miles and miles and miles of walking on these sidewalks of Stratford School.

I've played softball on these fields with Stratford kids.
Volleyball in the gym with Stratford kids.
Danced on the gym floor with Stratford kids.
Laughed, without measure, in these rooms, gym, and playground, with Stratford kids.
I've held hands, hugged, comforted, and disciplined. Oh, and I've taught... 600 - 700 kids.

My kids grew, and our relationship stayed intact. I've had the great pleasure to watch them grow into teens, adults, parents, and friends. There are far more than just a few who are still in my life. Each one is a blessing to my heart. I've taught their children. I continue to teach their children. I've taught entire families.

Personal evolution...............

I've walked these sidewalks as Miss Bettencourt.
I've run along these sidewalks, the energy of a youthful teacher, Tigger bouncing between the office and my room.

I recall the first time Mr. Villa called me on the intercom and addressed me as "Mrs. Wiens"... in August of 1983. My heart raced!

I've waddled along these sidewalks, pregnant, swollen, and tired. I drove away after a full teaching day on Thursday, April 7, and delivered my baby Jake on Friday, April 8. Almost like the moms in the rice fields. I evolved into a mother on this school site.

I suffered personal losses while at this school. I remember the exact spot where Anne and Doug told me about our beloved Scott, and my knees buckled. The principal gave us his office so we could openly shed our tears, while my friends at school made arrangements to take my class for the rest of the day.

I received "the phone call" in the middle of class, that I needed to get to the hospital immediately, because my sister was not going to make it through the day. My students witnessed my gut response to this, and they rose to the occasion. Their big eyes of sympathy forever engrained in my memory. I was exhibiting real life to them. They handled it.

Technology evolved..............

I've woven 35 mm reel to reel tape from a feeder tape to the empty receiver reel, to show flickery movies to students. My favorite was "Hemo the Magnificent" circa-1958.

I've had purple fingers, fingernails, and often smudges of purple on my face from using a mimeograph machine to make student copies. I recall, with affection, the rhythmic sound of the machine churning out my copies -

tha-tump, tha-tump,tha-tump, tha-tump,tha-tump, tha-tump...

and the sweet smell of the toxic ink.

I've used the overhead projector to create my own bulletin board characters (I didn't think it was "right" to purchase premade bulletin boards!).

I've gone from a huge suitcase sized record player, playing scratchy singalong records, to cassette recorders, to CD players, to Pandora custom stations.

I can remember the thrill of being introduced to a "computer" in 1983. A big, bulky thing, with a greenish screen, called an Apple IIe. I couldn't believe that someday we could possibly have a computer in EACH classroom!! Oh my! How could our district ever afford such an expense!!

Then came the computers color screens. AND a mouse! I can't even remember how we maneuvered a computer before the mouse. Teachers had to take turns cleaning the "mouse balls" in the computer lab.

The dreaded Apple computer bomb - ugh. The sight of this still gives me heartache.

Now, I have a laptop cart in my classroom, that houses 22 student laptops.

My overhead projector, after spending too much time ignored in the corner, has been retired to the storage garage. I felt guilty sending it off, cart and all.

Replacing my OHP is this new Elmo, that projects real life images to my 10 foot wide screen.

Yesterday I was trained on the use of an iTouch, so that my students can use those in my room next year. Amazing realization that paper/pencil assignments are going to join the projector, overhead, and IIe computers!! Maybe even before my retirement!

2011 - Room 11 - The evolution of my education. I've lived an entire life on the campus of Stratford School.

New Music Love

2011-05-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

I'm loving Jake Shimabukuro and his magical ukelele. It is so thrilling to continue to find music that melts into your soul, whispers melodies into the bloodstream, soothes the spirit, inspires directions that haven't been considered. I feel happy that the world keeps growing people with talent and individuality. Thank you.

Oh, and I like saying his last name. So multi-syllabic.

why?

2011-04-25T22:43:00.000-07:00

it is a question that is reserved for the human brain.
it is an earthly question
And what might we want for an answer?
What might satisfy the aching heart that asks "why?"

God smiles
for He understands.
He calls His children back to His arms,
Enveloping and delighting in them upon their return.
Every child is greeted by the Father with the truest depths of love.
Home.

Why?
Love is the answer.

"Envy is counting the other fellow's blessings instead of your own."

2011-04-19T07:59:00.000-07:00

Allow me to take a moment for some bitchiness.

I have a great aversion to people who desire envy. These are the people who can't really appreciate their own accomplishments, their own happiness, their own path, unless someone is envying them. Coveting their belongings. Wishing for their life.

Do not court me as your awestruck audience. Do not use me as a tally mark in your secret scorebook. I'm not interested in being tallied.

I will very willingly be happy for you. I will rejoice in your happiness as you climb your own mountain. I will recognize your hard work, your sacrifices, and your endurance to reach your goals. I will marvel over the beauty of your belongings, and share your glee as your create a surrounding that fits your soul. But, please... do not expect me to yearn to BE you!! That I will not do.

Allow me to applaud you from my own vantage point, where I am very happy and climbing, trekking on my own path. I find your path lovely, but I find my path equally lovely. Really!

I have my own landmarks that spark my personal fire. Not less, just different.

All of us are creating personal notches. Getting our footing. Sometimes slipping, even falling. Rising again and marching on. Enjoying the scenery on paths, curves, and turns that weren't planned. My path is twisty. Sometimes I don't use a map, sometimes I need a guide. I love the whimisical journey, even the storms, and the choice to go off course to chase a butterfly. I want to gather flowering friends along the way, carrying a bouquet of colors in my heart. I want to build memories using all of my senses. A song. A smell. A taste. A touch. Each reminding me of a moment, a person, a life postcard.

This is me. It works for me.

I want to know about your path. I want to experience other mountains, other journeys, listening, learning, sitting next to you and turning the pages of your album of life. I may even consider walking some of those paths, to see what they can bring to me. That is the grandeur of this life. We can each walk a path and come back with an entirely different assortment of memories.

Be happy for yourself! This is good stuff, and you don't need anyone else to amplify your experience. It is remarkable enough to stand on it's own, so applaud yourself and relish in yourself. That is good enough! I am strongly capable of loving your experiences without wanting to secretly trail you.

I will never put on your shoes.
I will never hope to have your legs, eyes, or gut.
For, they would not fit me.

Life Lab

2011-04-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

The reason I was in Santa Cruz was to attend a 2-day School Gardening Workshop. I am not a gardener, but I am a teacher who believes children should do more at school than sit at a desk. School just isn't as much fun these days (in my opinion). I attended so I could learn how a non-gardening teacher creates mini-gardeners.

I was hugely inspired!

First of all, the people who work at this heaven-on-Earth facility, have smiles on their faces that can only be produced by working at a job that they love passionately! Daily, they are surrounded by the most beautiful scenery in the state, clean air, and happy energy. I hate them. I want to be them. Envy is an ugly thing.

Notice the ocean in the background? Understand my envy?

This honey bee box was quite cool. Unlatch the door and open, and you can view the inner workings of a bee hive.

I found this structure interesting. Huge slab of slate with marbles attached in the etchings. I figured we might recreate this at school one day, using all the confiscated marbles collected by the principal.

Artichoke plants are quite beautiful, in addition to producing a very yummy vegetable.

Driving to Santa Cruz, I drove right through the artichoke capital of the world... Castroville. The fields were heavy with artichoke plants, ready for harvesting. I took a picture of an artichoke field, but it didn't turn out very clear. Disappointing.

I took this picture to remind myself that this is a plant I want in my yard. I've seen it before, loved it, but had forgotten about it. I think I might leave the house today in search of Mexican Sage, even though I'm thinking my yard is getting a little "purple overload".... seems I have an attractive to purple blossoms.

I learned about worm bins. Lots of creepy crawlies find the bin to be a delicious home.

I don't know the name of this succulent, but isn't it a beauty?! I took these pictures for my students, to use as an example of patterns in nature.

And, just for good measure, to add to the ultimate pleasure and plethora of information I absorbed at this workshop, we didn't start our day until 9:00 am! This gave us time for an early morning walk along Sea Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz. Can you imagine starting each day with this???

Power

Beauty

Soothing

Peace.............

2011-04-09T17:47:00.000-07:00

My July plan is morphing

Lemoore

to South Jordan

a Franti first for me

and IG in Layton !?!

(quote... "What's this world coming to?)

from South Jordan to Sedona

THEN!

I saw this picture, and started to change my mind.

My stomach got queasy

THEN!

I remembered posting

this picture on 1-1-11

The journey to our dreams is not always a straight path. It is not always easy, and often, there are scary bridges that make us want to turn around.

I'm taking the long way to this dream. I'm crossing the bridge. I'm singing the song.

Santa Cruz Spirit

2011-04-07T20:26:00.000-07:00

I was in Santa Cruz last week. Such a strange, wonderful place.
It's progressively zen and old school hippie time warp.
I love it there....
it's just weird enough and just smart enough.
I think that's me.

I have two separate Santa Cruz attachments.

The city
Veganville
Beachy
Boardwalk
Pacific Avenue
Chex Mix of people

The redwoods
Natural
A winding canyon road
Politely looming redwoods
Embracing sounds
Critters
Hair frizzing air

I'd happily tolerate umkempt hair for more time among the trees.

Sedona - step 1

2011-03-15T06:20:00.000-07:00

For the past 2 summers, I've had a calling to visit Sedona, alone. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to go there on my own, but I'd like to believe that something awaits me that needs my undivided attention. I don't even remember what I saw or read that initiated this pull. 2 summers ago I wasn't ready. I wasn't brave enough. I wasn't brave enough to hit the road on my own and go somewhere knowing no one. I wasn't brave enough to drive hours and hours, state by state.

Last summer, driving with a purpose, to Utah, and experiencing "road freedom".... I knew I could do it again. I knew I wanted to do it again. The time has arrived.

I've wanted to learn about aromatherapy, and I'd been searching, searching for the right avenue in California. A few months ago I searched for aromatherapy in Sedona. Found it!!! And the timing started to feel right. Yes, this would be my Sedona summer.

So, this morning, I paid my deposit on a rental casita. One week. I've made contact with the aromatherapy workshop women.

My map is lining up.

Catch A Falling Star - Neal and Leandra

2011-02-22T21:46:00.000-08:00

What Teachers Make Final Moviebk2 0001

2011-02-11T06:04:00.000-08:00

The pleasures of teaching

2011-02-10T20:01:00.000-08:00

This ain't no easy gig, teaching. Many days, I'm faced with a dilemma before I can unlock the door to my classroom. "Informants" filling me in on the happenings of the playground. Permission slips waved in my face, before I've decided the best way to collect them most efficiently (so I don't misplace them). "I couldn't do my homework" tales start pleading their case. Kids pushing each other, annoying each other, and expecting me to referee. I sigh big sighs, and get the day started.

The pleasures of teaching.

On many days, when I'm walking to the office from the parking lot, I'm behind a 7th grade boy and his 1st grade sister. He is, possibly, the sweetest big brother EVER! He loves his little sister so much, and this I know from simply walking behind them on many occasions. I've watched them walk up to the school holding hands. I've witnessed him patiently and gently coaxing her to keep moving, when she's put on the skids and not wanted to take another step toward her school day. Last week, he was using his cell phone to take her picture, while she was striking a cover girl pose. He looked at his pic, showed it to her and I heard him say, "Look. You look so pretty!"

The pleasures of walking to this job.

My "challenge" kid this year! Whoa! Not an easy task. He was wearing me out. I was privately hoping he'd move. He was stealing every ounce of my energy, and I was feeling like emotional road kill. I've kept in close contact with dad and grandparents. We're on the same page. Dad was a student at our school, so he has my back, and I have his. After winter break, this student was the reason I was moaning and groaning about returned to school.

But, the light has started to shine. He's coming around. I'm giving him his space to be wiggly, fidgety, and crazy. He has to be reminded to give me my teaching space. He and I have met in the middle. He's trying to get his work done. I'm writing daily notes to his dad. I'm just the reporter. I've told the student that his behavior and choices write what goes into the note.

Last week I awarded him "Student of the Week". Strike while the iron is hot. We're going to make it. Just yesterday, I found myself thinking, "If I have to do a 3/4 combination next year, maybe I should keep this kid. He knows me. Why should he have to waste time starting all over again with someone else." Crap!

The pleasure (and insanity) of teaching.

I do not experience one single day without a child telling me I'm pretty. This class is really a bunch of shmoozers, and I love it! They notice my clothes. My earrings. My hair. Anything and everything, and they compliment their observation on a regular basis. I'm told I'm the best teacher in the WHOLE WORLD. I respond with, "I'm your best teacher until next year." Sometimes, I think they're using complimentary warfare to disarm me. Smart kids.

The pleasure of teaching 8 and 9 year olds.

At the end of each day, we walk to the front of the school in a cluster. I have a group of girls who all want to hold my hand, hug my waist (well, the area where my waist used to be), lock arms with me, touch and hold on to me in some way. We look like a parade float, making our way in unison down the hallway. I've told them I need to be an octopus teacher, so I have enough arms for everyone. They tell me stories on the way. They giggle with one another as they volley for position near me. They give me big hugs, squeezing hand grips, and "I don't want to leave you" smiles before running off to their mothers.

I see former students in front of the school. Now the mothers and fathers, waiting to pick up their children. I walk out to visit. A quick hello, love on their newest babe-in-arms, ask about their parents and siblings. I'm genuinely happy and heart-warmed to see each and every one of these "kids", who used to be the group lined up at my door each morning. I've been at this school for a long time.

The pleasure of a job, that ain't no easy gig.

Here Comes the Sun: A Tribute to George Harrison by Paul Simon, Crosby ...

2011-02-03T20:41:00.000-08:00

Here Comes the Sun

2011-02-03T20:27:00.000-08:00

The sun has returned.
He came and kicked the grey blanket off of our valley.
He is welcomed back with open arms,
like a returning lover.
He is warm fudge
topping a sundae.

Hello Mr. Sun,
you have so many fans.
Everyone is talking about your return
and showing the love.
I knew you'd be back
come February.

Our spirits are lifted
You are the life of the party.
We're outside again,
Your honey rays dripping
on our faces.
You are the song,
You are the invitation
to the dance.

Apology

2011-01-21T21:54:00.000-08:00

Blogger has added a bunch of new fonts. Since I don't know how, nor do I have the technological equipment to truly customize my blog, I'm beyond thrilled with the additional choices.

I am a child of early typewriters. The unimaginative limitations has not completely vanished from my memory. Need I tell you how delighted I was, (was it really only the late 1980's/early 1990s?) when word processing actually offered some font choices? And don't even get me going on the back flips when color choices became available!!

With all of these available fonts for my blog, I'm not going to be able to help myself. I wasn't born with this red hair, and my styles have been everything from a spiky bob (late 80s), to super short (short enough it didn't really need to be combed) permed, bangs, long, medium, shagged (not Austin Powers shagged), and ruined. If I'd do that to my hair, well.... what do you expect with font choices?

So, I shall apologize in advance, for the Wal Mart tacky changes I will be making to this blog on a regular basis. I can tell you right now, I won't be able to resist.

2011 So Far

2011-01-17T11:07:00.000-08:00

How great is this?
It is only January 17, and I've already learned new things in this new year.

As of January 1

quinoa flakes make a great morning hot cereal
add a little Almond Breeze
a banana
1 (or 2) tspn. of peanut butter
This is a holding power food
very yum

I've learned to love Zum soap.
Goat milk feeds my skin all silky good.
Currently using Lavender/Frankincense (confession: I had to look up the spelling of Frankincense)

prayer flags

I've seen them, but didn't realize their color meanings and purpose. Torn, not cut. I like that. Thank you, Cathy. You've been teaching me new things for 40+ years. Imagine what you'll teach me during the next 40!!

Weight Watchers DOES work - 5 lbs worth since Dec. 28
(yes, the quinoa hot cereal is on the diet)
I've even been allowed a couple of cheats on fudge and lasagna - not together

And, during the writing of this blog, I've reaffirmed my passionate love for Zappos.com. My first order for 2011: rainboots. I'm planning on attending the Tulare International Farm Show in February. The weather is notorious for raining during the outdoor event, creating sloshy walkways. I placed my order this morning about 9:30 am, and just received an email from Zappos that the boots will be here overnight!! I LOVE YOU ZAPPOS!!!

So, imagine what is yet to be learned this year of 2011, if already I've added the above to my repertoire (I didn't need to look up that spelling) of knowledge.

I think I'll keep adding to this list, as the year progresses.

Sensory Deprivation

2011-01-15T10:50:00.000-08:00

Winter Doldrums

I need color

wildflowers splashing,
blue skies and blue waters,
yellows and oranges in the sky,
green, green, green.
oxygen

I need sound

waves crashing
wind humming
trees dancing

I need scents

clean air
organic forest floors
scattered seaweed

I need to feel

sandy feet
cushy redwood needles decomposing
redwood creatures in my hand, tickling
cool forest air, dewy, leftover morning mists
rays beating on my face, re-energizing my soul

My January hibernation is making me twitchy.
I'm feeling ready to kick off the grey blanket.
My soul is feeling suffocated, and needs to breathe.
Stretching arms
legs that need to jig
This burrow is getting small, restrictive.

I'll work harder at accepting the need for this time of quiet.
February will tease
March will open
April will deliver

Today's Name

2011-01-03T20:36:00.000-08:00

In a previous post, I included a quote about naming each of your days. I've really held onto that thought, and since reading that quote, I've tried to make myself more conscious of my days. I wonder how many of my days would have been named "Mundane"? I remember a day that was named "Huh?"

Today's name would have been Time and Order.

Being on vacation with no big plans, it's given me time to work and complete tasks that I don't normally find time to accomplish. Oh, according to the clock and the 24 hours in a day, there certainly is time to tackle these organizational types of tasks. But, I just don't stretch myself much to find the time. Normally, I'm just working the day, then trying to regather enough energy to go back to work the next day.

Today, I got my pantry reorganized. Over zealous purchases of multiple cans of tomato paste, now outdated, tossed. Numerous opened bags of rice, compiled into one large bag. Canned products together, with closer dated cans at the front, 2012 dates at the back. Beans together - tomatoes together - hominy and diced chilis, just waiting for their call to Tortilla Soup duty. Grains are on the left, eye level shelf. I'm well stocked on quinoa and not ready to give up on the black rice. It stays. Baking ingredients are housed together now, with enough sugar to bake sugar cookies for all of Southwest's flights during month of January. Not sure when my obsession with buying sugar started.

Today was a double thrill. Time and order.

1-1-11

2011-01-01T12:04:00.000-08:00

An open heart
A welcoming spirit
joy
dance
nourishment
wings
sunrise
lifting soul
breathe
refresh
respond
create

the journey continues

2011

one day, many days

2010-12-24T07:36:00.000-08:00

"You have got to own your days and name them, each one of them, or else the years go right by and none of them belong to you."

A Thousand Clowns by Herb Gardner

I'm thinking of the days in my life that have their own name. I'm believing in the days that slipped by, unnamed, that those days were carried on the strength of the named days.

I'm rejoicing in the belief that I've been included in some of the named days of my dears.

I'm grateful for the named days that are in my future.

I resolve to welcome each day with a name, open my eyes to its individuality, and continue in my practice to close each of my days with gratitude.

Today's name is love. family. joy.

welcome

Thanksgiving Magic

2010-12-06T18:53:00.000-08:00

I've wanted to post about Thanksgiving 2010, but I was hesitant. It was so wonderful, I was afraid I would lose some of its magic if I tried to describe it. I will only post samplings and pictures, my heart holds the rest.

A fraction of Larsons driving from South Jordan to Lemoore.
Wednesday night cooking with Anne and Hallee. Brendon too.
Late night arrival. Joy.
Frying bacon and sausage for breakfast.
House continues to fill with people, food, and cheer.
A helpful Presley sets both dinner tables. Carson oversees.
A rainbow sets itself on Cathy.
Birds of good energy from Jade.
I couldn't be happier.

Secrets, Quirks, Compulsions

2010-11-17T07:29:00.000-08:00

I've been spending time mentally listing all the private weirdnesses I enjoy.

I like Hostess Snowballs. I don't eat them often, but I lust for them often. When I meet someone else who admits they too have an occasional hankerin' for a snowball, there is a universal spark of kindredship. People are hesitant to publicly admit they like snowballs.

I check the flatness of my stomach compulsively. NOT that I HAVE a flat stomach. I guess, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I believe that there is a possibility that during the night, while in a deep sleep, the "Flat Stomach Fairy" will wave her stomach-flattening wand over me, and I'll wake up with a washboard midriff. So far, she hasn't found me.

I don't watch the Kardashians (often), but I'm curious about them. Since I can say that Khloe is my favorite Kardashian, I know they have a clothing boutique called Dash, I know Kourtney's baby is named Mason, and, in my opinion, Bruce's revamped facelift looks much better, I suppose I know too much about them.

I also watch Family Guy. AND, I laugh! I know, it's the lowest form of humor on TV. It isn't uncommon for me to groan during a show, but still, I think it's pretty funny. Really, a baby with a snobby British accent, who feels superior to his entire family, and the most stable, intelligent family member is the dog, Brian? Good stuff. At least I don't watch any of the Real Housewives. Now THAT would be sick.

I honk at squirrels. Not to warn them I'm coming so they'll run out of the way (even though, I do that if they're in the road). No, I honk to startle them on the side of the road. Sadly, my new car, or, I should say, my most recent car doesn't have a good squirrel startling horn. The best horn is on a smaller car, quick and beepy. I used to be quite obsessed by it. I couldn't drive Hwy. 41 without numerous honks. Sometimes, I'd make predictions according to how many squirrels I could scare. I'd pick a random number, let's say 5. Then I'd think of something I hoped would be waiting for me at home..... a cleaned kitchen, no pressing bills in the mail, Anthony having a feeling good day... then I'd begin my challenge. If I could startle 5 squirrels before reaching Hwy. 198, then my choice of prediction would occur. The next car I buy, I'm doing a squirrel test drive.

My latest secret alone snack is pretzel rods dipped in canned frosting. Try it. It's quite yummy. (refer back to my morning ritual of checking for a flat stomach - obviously, for no good reason).

I cuss a LOT at other drivers on the road, but I never let them know I'm verbally abusing them in the sanctuary of my own vehicle. I don't flash dirty looks. I don't flip anyone off, but I can blast off a stream of foul words, directed at them and sometimes directed toward their relatives too.

I can't drink cold beverages out of a mug. Can't.

I don't drink sodas very often, but when I do, I drink them at room temperature. No ice. They're bubblier.

I like the feeling of having my eyebrows waxed.

Since I can't think of any more weirdnesses, I'm feeling that I'm a boring person. I'm going to have to give this more thought.

What's Growing On?

2010-10-30T20:56:00.001-07:00

Pistachio trees - aren't these nuts pretty, in their early growing stage? They grow in bunches, like grapes.

Tractor tire patterns - I like these tracks.

Pomegranates - More and more pomegranate orchards are popping up around the county. They're pretty trees.

September 10, 2010 - Cotton flowers blooming

October 21, 2010 - Crop dusters have sprayed a defoliant on the field, so leaves dry up and drop off, leaving the cotton bolls exposed for easy picking.

Cotton has been picked from these fields. I wish I'd been able to get pictures of the cotton picker machines in action. They're massive!

These are cotton modules. These can be seen along side of every cotton field after picking. From here, the module is picked up by a module loader(I'm sort of guessing on that name) and taken to the cotton gin. At the gin, the seeds will be removed from the cotton and the raw cotton will be packed into 500 lb bales.

Cotton is white. Snow is white. I'm more comfortable around cotton.

Steve Perry & 43,000 Friends NEVER 'Stop Believing' in the GIANTS - NLCS...

2010-10-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

I think this is such a great video, taken at the Giants' play-off game. Steve Perry, of Journey, is a Lemoore homegrown boy. Journey got it's start in the bay area, so believing that he is a die hard Giants' fan isn't much of a stretch. I love this.

Would you like to sing my song?

2010-10-18T19:01:00.000-07:00

I was in the mood for some Janis Ian music. In college I had three or four of her albums. She sang songs that whispered the torments and confusion of young love and relationships. In listening to some of her music tonight, I felt sad to realize that her songs rang true to a corner of my being in those days.

"At Seventeen" -- I privately related to this song. I think some would be surprised to learn I connected with the soft lament of the unpopular high school girl in the song. I could see it through her eyes, and feel some of her hurts from being overlooked.

"In the Winter" --- Feelings of loneliness, love lost. Being on the outside, alone, dramatic reactions to a failed relationship.

"Love Is Blind" --- Okay, now I'm realizing I was obsessed. Geez, get over him already!!

http://www.janisian.com/albums/aftertones.php
Check out the URL above, so you can listen to some of the next songs.

"This Must Be Wrong" and "Boy I Really Tied One On" --- Um, thank goodness, I'm coming out of my heartache dreariness.

There are so many of her songs I really loved, and I'm revisiting them. I hope Janis found a happy life and love. Now, I'm able to listen to her songs for their beautiful melodies and the soft, gentle voice of a fragile woman. Through some of her songs I look back at a time in my life that included youthful drama, silly choices, and high voltage reactions. Truthfully, that was just a sprinkling over a lot of fun, good friends, new experiences, and a girl finding her way into adulthood.

They're back!

2010-10-09T16:21:00.001-07:00

Today marks the official return of my prism rainbows. I'm documenting. I was walking by their room, rushing to get ready to leave for an English Learner Literacy conference, when I caught sight of them. I gasped and stopped in my tracks! They were not here yesterday, but this morning bright, brilliant, mini-meteors of color were splashed upon the west wall.

The Earth is tilting, approaching its outer oval orbit around the sun. These beauties will visit me every sunny morning until spring. They are welcomed visitors.

Sunday evening

2010-10-04T05:32:00.000-07:00

We were working in the yard as this sky was being painted. We stopped our work to walk into the street to appreciate the beauty. I went into the house to get my camera, and heard my phone chime that a text had arrived. It was a text from Jake:

Go take a pic of the sky

I smiled.

An aged soul is beautiful

2010-10-04T05:18:00.001-07:00

I've made a decision about aging. My new attitude is this:

My outside is evolving to catch up with and match the centuries of wisdom that my soul has gathered.

So, as my body softens, it is just creating a more comfortable earth domain for my soul. My soul is speaking through the lines in my face. My body is simply the book jacket.

Awaiting the rainbows

2010-10-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

One more month until we turn the clocks back an hour. It's always sad to say goodbye to the summer evenings and late sunsets. But, I think I'm reading to "fall back" an hour, and welcome back my rainbow faeries. The prism hanging in my tiled living room displays the most wondrous splashes of rainbows all over the wall, when the sun is shining. The positive, uplifting energy these rainbows initiate in my heart and home is warmly welcomed and appreciated. I'm getting so excited for their return. It is a rainbow sundial in my home. They are at their brilliance at 7:10 in the morning, reflecting against the west wall. In the afternoon, about 4:00, they are dancing on the east wall. Quite delightful.

Your Life Canvas

2010-09-29T21:57:00.000-07:00

When Cathy posted her photo of the beautiful sunrise she caught this week, it made me think of an idea I created a couple of years ago: painting your life's canvas.

I was sitting in the church. A funeral for a friend who lost her long, 15 year battle with cancer. The church was packed with people. It was a tough funeral to attend. While listening to the pastor, I looked around the room and thought, "Karen left a swipe of color on every life in here, and her color will never be duplicated on anyone's canvas."

And that's how the idea started. I imagine a living canvas. Everyone who touches our life has their own color, their personal hue that is left on our canvas. Some people are a part of our life and leave large sweeping strokes of color. Others wash over our canvas boldly. There are friends who splash, splatter, and swish. There are people we meet on our life path that may leave only one streak of their color, but even one streak adds to the overall picture. Our canvas continues to grow, making room for as many colors as we're lucky enough to encounter.

I want to paint my life. In my mind's eye, I can see how the painting would look. I can think of a person, and a color will swirl and form in my head. The way I'd add it to my painting would be as individualized as each person who is a part, or has been a part, of my life. Some people, I'd use a feather to brush fleeting strokes of color. Some would be a watery, translucent color, almost undetectable to another viewer, but to me, I'd know what it represented on my life masterpiece. Of course, there would be colors that stood out above all others, large, bold, comforting, rich in depth.

I feel blessed that my canvas is large and growing. I know the colors of my people. My painting is a watercolor of beautiful, rich hues. There are some small brush marks that I would not want to have missing from the large backdrop. There are some powerfully strong swipes from a large brush of love, guidance, and happy times. My canvas grows. A part of it might look like this..........

Willie Nelson - I Never Cared For You

2010-09-15T20:35:00.000-07:00

The sun is filled with ice and gives no warmth at all
The skies, were never blue.
The stars are raindrops looking for a place to fall,
And, I never cared for you.

Tuesday night, September 14, 2010. Hanford Fox Theater. Willie again. He didn't feel 100%. I know Willie. He gave. He smiled. He played with as much passion as he could stir. But, I know he needs a break. He needs a rest, but he doesn't want to stop long enough to let his 77 years find him.

I started my one-sided love affair with Willie in 1976 with the purchase of the
Red-Headed Stranger LP (his music was recommended to me by my cousin, Geoff). His music and the tones of his voice spiraled right into my soul, and my love sprouted.
Over the years, in learning about and listening to Willie, I believe we are kindred spirits of Mexican past lives. It leaks out in some of his music. He did a movie called Barbarosa that very much embraced Mexican culture. This culture speaks to my soul in the same way Willie's voice does. My draw to both feels instinctual to me.

My Willie timeline:

1978 - first Willie concert in Lake Tahoe. I was sure he was singing "If You Could Touch Her At All" directly to me. Really. I believe.

1979 - Santa Cruz Fairgrounds. Willie Nelson and Maria Muldaur. I went with Daryl. I wore heart-shaped sunglasses so Willie would know I loved him. Daryl was a little embarrassed, I think. This is a picture Daryl took at that concert, enlarged it to an 8x10 and gave to me for my birthday that year. I treasured this picture.

1980 - Santa Cruz Fairgrounds again! Again, Daryl and I attended. Jane Fonda introduced Willie that year. Saw Willie on Sunday afternoon and drove home after the concert. The next evening, he was in Paso Robles at the Midstate Fair. I don't remember why my friend, Cheryl, had an extra ticket, but I was beyond thrilled to be seeing Willie two nights in a row!!! At this concert, Cheryl and I worked our way to the front row and we were able to shake his hand. The screams heard around the world.

1981 - Harrahs Reno. That was a fun trip! Reno for Willie, next day Tahoe. I met some really fun guys in Tahoe and ran all over town with them. (guardian angels were definitely working overtime with me). We were in some club/bar and Stephen Stills was there, so he got up and sang onstage. It was surreal.

(1981 was my first time seeing Waylon Jennings, but not with Willie.)

1982 - Anthony, then my boyfriend, was in Los Angeles at the bartenders' convention. He was sitting in the Hollywood Sheraton one night, and Willie Nelson came in with some of his band. Anthony offered to buy him a drink. Willie ordered a margarita. They chatted. Anthony told him that he had a girlfriend who was a big fan, and that she would leave him for Willie. Anthony also told him that I would leave him if he didn't get an autograph for me from Willie.

Then I went through a Willie drought. As much as I love him, I don't want to see him perform in big, crowded venues. I just couldn't stand it.

Fast forward to 1994. Tulare Fairgrounds. I went with my friend, Pini. We hung around the busses. We tried to get onto one of the busses. No luck. They were letting some radio call-in winners board the bus to meet Willie. Didn't they know who I was!?!?

1998 - Visalia Conference Center. Anthony and I went to his concert with Mr. and Mrs. Villa. Mrs. Villa was my mentor as a teacher. Mr. Villa, the first principal I worked for. They were already retired. We had a really good time at this concert. Old crowd. Anthony and I cracked up when the lady in front of us walked in, wearing a mink stole! I guess to her, a Willie Nelson concert is a very special occasion!

2005 - Pozo, California. Google it. Crazy little saloon, outdoor venue down the backroads of Santa Margarita. Bryan and Theanna Hightower took me to this Willie concert. I've known Bryan since he was about 9 years old. His mom is a friend of mine. He called me and said, "I'm in line to get tickets for Willie Nelson, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather see him with than you!" This was only 5 months after Anthony passed away. We went to the concert in a hummer limo, with a bunch of 20somethings. That was a Sunday.

2005 - On Wednesday of the same week, I already had tickets to see Willie at the Hanford Fox Theater. Pini and Yvonne went with me. The acoustics in the Fox Theater make it a fantastic place to see any musician.

2006 - Willie at the Tachi Palace. I wasn't going to go to this concert out of protest. Willie was the opening act!! That is insulting!!! He was opening for John Fogherty. Are you kidding me??? When my friend, Louie, got great front section, tribal area tickets, I couldn't say no. As we arrived, Willie was already playing (ugh, don't get me started on the Palace's entrance organization!!)... we were about 6 rows back from the stage. I waved to Willie as we found our seats, and he waved to me. At the end of the concert, I ran to the stage to tell him I love him, and he threw his bandana to me. I went back to my seat, bandana in hand, and sniffed it. Louie was disgusted.

2010 - Myles was a great date. We had a grand time. I hope to see Willie again.

Willie Nelson - My Own Peculiar Way

2010-09-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

I'll be with my man, Willie, one week from tonight. Third row, center. Blowing him kisses, waving, and going into my Willie trance.

Love Me Like Rock

2010-08-29T18:45:00.000-07:00

I've been neglecting my crystals. I should know better, because they've proven many times, to heal me, boost me, and spiritually re-energize me when I need help. Last night, as I got ready to retreat to my bed, I looked at my variety of crystals to select which I needed to be in the bed with me. Yes, I sleep with my rocks. I hold them in prayerful meditation as I fall asleep. I decided to take my snowflake obsidian with me last night. I'd forgotten it's energy qualities, so after my decision, I went to my Crystal Bible (yes I have a crystal bible... don't judge me) to remind myself of how it could help.

*******************

Snowflake obsidian can provide balance during times of change. It aids in seeing patterns in life and recreating them in a more beneficial way. It is a stone of serenity and purity, and can shield against negativity. It is associated with the root chakra and is beneficial for the veins, skeleton, and smooth skin. Snowflake obsidian gives protection from physical and emotional harm.

*********************
Good choice.

Help Me Make It Through The Night

2010-08-28T20:00:00.000-07:00

Rita is such a beauty. And Kris is so, ahhhhhh. I came across this accidentally, and it hypnotized me. Love Kristofferson songs. I'm off in search of others.

You're Never Too Old.....

2010-08-23T20:09:00.000-07:00

...

to get so frustrated, you cry.... in the principal's office.
to want your mom
and your dad.
to stomp away saying, "I don't want to play anymore"
to dream of what you'll be when you grow up.
to wonder IF you'll grow up.
to start crying all over again.

Back To School

2010-08-15T06:45:00.001-07:00

This year, I'm teaching 3rd and 4th graders. Even though it is a BIG challenge, I am SO excited to have 7 returning students with me. When I volunteered to take the combination class (this year ONLY), one of my requests was that I be allowed to select who stays with me for another year.

Some people who teach combo classes think they should have the high level students, the students who are able to learn quickly and work independently. That would certainly make life easier on the teacher faced with the responsibility of two curriculums.

I don't feel that way. I'd rather keep the students who were just on the brink of really coming on, but struggled throughout most of the school year. Give them a little more time, teach to their pace. Allow them to be the "experts" of the class, since they already have a year under their belts with me.

I have 7 students from last year's 3rd grade class. They are now my 4th graders. We had a reunion today. I told them that they are my chosen 7. We know what to expect from each other. I know their issues, and they know mine. They know what buttons to stay away from - or - to push, if they're really out to get me.

I did not select the easiest to teach. But, just between you and me? They are the ones who are the most fun to teach! I'm quite crazy about these kids.

The Midwife Series

2010-08-04T16:45:00.000-07:00

And this completes my behind the scenes report, "The Secret Life of Midwives". If you are just tuning in, below are four posts describing, from my perspective, what happens during a homebirth. I attended two homebirths with Cathy, and remained behind with her family while she attended two other births. From this experience, I became an instant expert. You can believe me.

I would feel better knowing that you scrolled down and started reading "The Secret Life of Midwives" and proceeded up to this post. I do possess some linear attributes. In that order, you will be reading in proper sequence.

The Secret Life of Midwives - Their Family

2010-08-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

A phone call brings news that a baby is ready to make his/her appearance. Cathy listens, asks questions, and makes a quick assessment to determine how soon she needs to get to the birth home. Sometimes the call comes during the middle of the night, during the quiet hours of deep sleep for the regular population. Cathy may try to get some more sleep, so she's well rested for the birth, but once the call comes, her mind begins to race. Sometimes the call comes mid-morning, possibly during a time when Cathy is getting ready to share time with someone in her own family. The call could find her in the middle of a family party, a quiet moment with one of her own grandchildren, or a rare moment of peaceful alone time being shared between her forever husband and herself.

It doesn't matter what is happening in Cathy's personal family life. When the call comes and it's time for her services, she throws on her Midwife Super Hero cape, calls "Li'l Red" into action (hopefully, already full of gas), packs her miracle equipment, and darts off into the horizon, leaving behind her loves, who watch her sail away to unknown places, with no return time determined.

While she is away, her loved ones adjust, but sometimes big sighs slip from their hearts. They understand and they have great pride in what their mother, wife, sister, and/or daughter does for other families. But, sometimes the disappointment about plans that need rearranging, overcomes them. Plans can continue, but there is a missing element, a sense of imbalance, because Cathy is missing.

I mentioned in an earlier post, that birthing time does not elapse parallel to regular time. Back at home, Cathy's family is feeling each minute, each hour. Dinner is eaten. Conversations exchanged. Dishes done, TV time or some Wii games enjoyed, but as her family starts to slow down and tire out, one by one, everyone goes to sleep with a wonder of when she'll be home. I experienced this on one of the nights she was at a birth. I woke during the night, realizing I hadn't heard her return. I was equally concerned for the mother she was tending to AND Cathy. I got up from my bed and peaked down the hall at Cathy's bedroom. Oh good. Her bedroom door was closed, that meant she'd come in during the night and she was getting some well earned sleep. I was able to return to bed, and a sigh slipped from my heart.

I am the chameleon reporter. I know what it is like for Cathy when she is at a birth, and I know what it is like to be waiting. At the first birth, I took my inexperienced time expectations with me. My cup was not empty. I watched the clock and estimated what time we should be getting home. Cathy serves at a birth with her clock cup empty. She is there until all matters are complete. Her time is on it's own speed. Sometimes she checks in with her own people and gives a report. Even though they know the routine, they know Cathy can't rush anything, a piece of them looks at their own clock and creates a private estimation of her return. I will admit my guilt to doing this.

Cathy loves her job. She loves families, babies, and birth. It pumps her. She loves her family. She loves the gathering of her tribe around her table, in her kitchen, exchanges, laughs, little ones, music, food. When called to leave one to attend another, she may feel a twinge of sadness.... but it is fleeting. She's off to join in another growing tribe. And her own tribe loves her. Understands. Waits. Patience is tested. Pride. Her family shares her with other families. Finally, the garage door is heard opening. Majestic takes her position as first greeter. A happy, sometimes weary Cathy walks through the door, and she's home. There are two separate families who have needed her and shared her that day. And Cathy's life is full in the giving of herself to both.

------------------------------------------------------------------
I think Donovan should have written a song about midwives. Cathy, this is for you, sing it to the tune of "Isle of Islay"

Off drives the midwife
In her car.
Away to a family
far, oh, far.
When will she come back
to us?
When will we see her
again?

There is a mother
needs her skill.
A baby arriving
at his will.
Holding the space
is her call.
Time standing still
through it all.

The Secret Life of Midwives - Dads

2010-07-28T22:44:00.000-07:00

It would be crazy to say that dads have the most difficult job during the birth of their babies. No one would buy it anyway. Well, possibly other dads. But, let us not disregard nor overlook the unsung partner in the childbirth experience.

I only attended two births, but there was plenty of time to observe. It kept my mind busy, plus I enjoy watching the dynamics of people. The man of the house has to be strong enough to be gentle. He has to read his wife, turn on his finest sensors, develop an extra layer of skin, and sharpen his mental capacity for staying focused.

In retrospect, I feel badly that we didn't emphasize and encourage the dads' intake of protein and liquids. It's very possible this was part of their birthing class preparation, and I simple wasn't present to hear the information. It is vital that dad is just as energized and hydrated as mom is during the exhausting journey of bringing their new baby into the world. He is the one who is going to have to remain strong and focused, during the times when his wife is waning in her strength and confidence. It is his role to know which hat to wear at the appropriate moment, sometimes wearing two at a time, and knowing when to toss the one that is annoying his wife, though he has no idea why it's annoying her!

I witnessed some of the needed hats, and I noted some hats that could come in handy.

1. Coach - Leave the whistle in the locker room, but bring your ability to encourage, support, and build your wife's confidence in her game. Remember, SHE is the one on the field!

2. Cheerleader - No need for a skirt and pom poms, but you will definitely need to cheer in spirit, not in volume.

3. Masseuse - Your bride will require unending amounts of massage, and it is your job to know what part of her needs the attention, how much strength to use, and for how long.

4. Stabilizer - If the emotional storm starts rocking the core of your wife, you are going to be called into action to calm her. This hat may also require a creative mind and equal parts of gentleness and firmness. Good luck.

5. Psychic - At any time, without warning, the current hat you're wearing will change its affect on your wife, and it will annoy her. Toss the hat as quickly as you can, and keep trying on other hats, until one meets her approval. Psychic abilities to foretell the coming annoyance will be hugely valuable to both of you.

As this beautiful event begins to unfold, take a moment to breathe, and mentally shower yourself in the love that the two of you share. Imagine God's hands, lovingly holding your sweet baby in deliverance to you and your wife. You are embarking on the journey that leaves you with the most precious souvenir of your life together. Family.

The Secret Life of Midwives - Birth #2

2010-07-16T10:22:00.000-07:00

I suppose since birth is such a spiritual and direct link to God, the ability to be intuitive and read the wants, desires, and needs of couples becomes clear. During the week, Cathy left for another birth. I'd met the couple at her home on Saturday, and I was touched by the bond and love between this couple. I had a feeling that their birth needed privacy. Cathy agreed, so, I stayed behind.

I really don't remember what we did on Friday, but later in the afternoon, Cathy and I each retreated to our own space to catch a nap. I was in a deep sleep, but for how long, I never checked. I was awakened by a text message (technology at its finest) from Cathy -- "Get your birthing suit ready." I looked at the message and thought, "Am I up for a repeat?", but, I then I realized Cathy wasn't inviting me, she was informing me. We needed to get ready. A minute or two later, I received another text that said, "We'll leave in 40 minutes."

I got up and went to her birth room of supplies. The towels were clean and folded, and I knew which bag was used for towels, so I packed the towels she would need. I don't really remember much more.. what did I wear? How did I get myself ready? I remember that we got the car packed and ready, that's about it. No more detailed memory than that.

Again, birth time. We arrived maybe around 8 pm. We were greeted by a nice, calm dad holding a, not feeling so well, 18 month old. A glowing mother, affectionately rubbing her tummy, was sitting on the lower stairs. I noticed, in the family room, were their other two boys, happily watching a movie. Three boys, and sometime before morning, their baby sister would be joining the family. How exciting! The comparison was made to Christmas morning, going to bed knowing Santa would visit during the night. Tonight, Santa Cathy would deliver their baby sister.

Cathy went upstairs with mom to check her, ask questions, and get a feel for what was presently happening. I started unpacking the car. If I may add a personal whine... the altitude of the Salt Lake City area is MUCH higher than what I'm used to in the Central Valley of California. And EVERYONE has stairs and levels to their homes!! Carrying things in and out from the car, up a driveway, up to the front door, and then upstairs in the house made me feel like an old worn out lady. The only positive part of it was, no one was around to talk to me, to find out how out of breath I was at such seemingly easy tasks! I felt privately out of shape and embarrassed.

The birthing pool was set up in the couple's bedroom, but had not been filled yet with water. Mom sent dad to the store to get snacks. Grandma was on her way to care for the boys. While surveying the birthing supplies, Cathy realized we'd forgotten the chair. She was disappointed, and took some time deciding if it was important enough to drive home to get. Since it appeared that her services were not going to be needed within the hour, Cathy decided we'd return home for the birthing chair. She estimated being away 40-50 minutes. She let dad know we were going to get it and on the way we'd stop at the store for some coconut milk for mom, her favorite rehydrating beverage. Dad seemed totally at ease and anticipated no problem with Cathy leaving. Cathy instructed him to call her immediately if anything changed, and she'd zip right back to their home.

Cathy called Briana to let her know who was in labor and update her on current details. Briana was at a concert with her sister, but said she'd come over as soon as it was over, which seemed within an appropriate time frame for the birth event.

We continued on our trip to retrieve the forgotten chair, and while at home realized we probably should get a protein snack to energize us for the pending activities. I had a nectarine with cottage cheese. I don't recall what Cathy had, but I know it was protein packed. We hop back into the car and drive back to the home of a waiting mother.

When we return, grandma has arrived to take over care of the boys, so dad is available for his role : a source of love, support, encouragement, and focus. (I will write more about the dads later). It is clear that mom is progressing in her labor.

Again, I witness a couple who have not stumbled upon their homebirth decision accidentally, or on a whim. A homebirth requires both husband and wife to be onboard completely. It requires a total committment and responsibility to the experience, from beginning to end. It requires confidence in the decision. This couple have had three children in a hospital setting. Cathy informs me, in the car, that the mom may need more verbal support during her birth, because she is working out of the realm of her previous birthing experiences. She might question more. She may need more reassurance as her birthing progresses with different decisions and techniques from her midwife at home.

We all go upstairs to the couple's bedroom. The pool is filling with hot water, so by the time mom needs to get into it, the water is comfortable. Contractions are felt strongly in her back hips, and she needs her husband to provide counter pressure, by using his arms to squeeze against her hips during contractions. I privately time her contractions, as an activity to keep myself focused on the events. It really is amazing to me that contractions get into a rhythm, and can be predictably expected. At this time, they were occurring every 5 minutes.

Mom begins to appear sort of restless. She's looking around, appraising her own situation, and then voices to Cathy that she really doesn't think she wants to use the birthing pool. She is almost apologetic in her tone, and asks if that's okay. It wasn't surprising to me that Cathy let her know that it is all her decision, and it is perfectly okay for her to do this anyway she wants. I look at Cathy's face, and I suspect she believes the mom will change her mind, but she is not going to express that at this time. I wonder if my presence is a distraction for mom. I don't feel she wants her body so publicly expose, so I go downstairs and write in the journal I brought with me.

After a while, Cathy comes downstairs and joins me. Mom was doing fine, and possibly needed some time to get herself sorted. Cathy gives the couple some alone time. In a bit, Cathy is called back upstairs to the bedroom. I follow to see if there is anything I can do to be of service, within reason of course. I know that each time Cathy checks the baby's heart rate, I need to record time and rate. I record other events, figuring if it's not necessary information, Cathy can simply omit it when writing her final records.

Mom is definitely being called to duty. She's doing everything right, yet definitely feeling some strong contractions. Her husband is giving her all the support he can, continuing with the counterpressure on her hips. Birthing time continues, and I really don't recall the elapsed time. Briana and her sister, Candace, arrive. Once again, Briana doesn't waste anytime, she gets right into the bedroom and finds a midwife perch.

At some point, mom was getting tired and frustrated with the pain and her laboring positions. She asked Cathy if the pain would be any better or relieved in the pool. Cathy smiled and said, that it would help. I noticed, almost instantly, that once mom moved into the pool and got situated, she seemed to relax a lot more during the contractions. She was asking questions, just as Cathy predicted. She made a comment that her hospital midwife did something that helped progress the birth. Cathy listened, but really didn't respond or comment.

While she was laboring in the pool, I took notice of Briana and Cathy. Later, I would imitate what I coined, "the midwife stare." They sat very quietly and watched the mom labor. Just watched. Sometimes Briana's eyebrow would give away her thoughts, and it would arch. I wondered what analysis she was privately forming. To me, it just looked like they were staring at her, allowing her to work through her own process. Cathy explained that, in the midwife world, this is referred to as "holding the space."

Cathy continues to check the mom and baby. All is fine, progress is being made, but it seems the sac is bulging, but not breaking. Cathy reports to mom that she now understands what the previous hospital midwife may have done to progress the delivery. Together, Cathy, Briana, mom, and dad decide that Cathy should puncture the bag, since it seems to be in the path. They decide to do this over the toilet. After the bag has been able to release, mom returns, not to the pool, but to her bed. The final phase of birth begins to unfold.

Their baby's head starts to show, and I witness an event that will forever touch my heart. Dad lovingly and gently "talks" this baby and mother through the delivery. He is telling his wife everything he sees of their baby girl.... "Oh, I see our little girl's head!" "She has hair!" "Oh, our baby girl is coming" And he continued to verbally support his wife in this most precious, gentle fashion. This baby girl inched her way out, peacefully, gently, and beautifully. And, in joy, she rested on the chest of her mother, with both parents enveloping her in their love.

This new baby girl cried dutifully, then rested so comfortably and contently with her mother, it was apparent that this is a child of peace and calm. Her brothers had gone to bed hours earlier, with eager anticipation of meeting their baby sister in the morning. They were not going to be disappointed.

The Secret Life of Midwives

2010-07-14T18:05:00.000-07:00

While visiting my soul sister, Cathy, I was invited into her sacred world of midwifery. I arrived at her home on a Saturday night, right in the middle of a party, celebrating the conclusion of a birthing class she'd taught. There were six couples, two of the couples were there to share their birth stories, and the other four happily/anxiously awaiting the birth of their baby. Cathy introduced me to the group and explained that I may be attending with her at any one of their births. I was amazed that no one seemed to balk at the idea, or at least, no one did in my presence.

I cannot say I was positively up for the idea of witnessing one of Cathy's births. I didn't know how I would react. I didn't know if I would get squeamish. I didn't know if I'd be more of a bother than a help. I even worried about getting bored! But, I'm learning this about my lifetime friend.... she is exceptionally skilled at easing me out of my comfort zone, and I trust her. She makes me want to be a better person. She has faith in my abilities, when I am busy questioning myself. I had to turn myself over to her confidence and follow her lead.

Of this I am sure - Cathy is skilled, gifted, and born to this Earth to support and love couples as they welcome their babies to their family.

It was the evening of July 4, and Cathy got into her own preparatory mode. She started getting towels packed, looked over her birthing basket to restock necessary items, checked that her oxygen tank was working properly, and basically, getting herself ready for whomever called her first. Everything was in order, ready to go.

Birth #1
July 5, it's time. We got the car packed and I accompanied Cathy to the home of our first birth of the week. We gathered her bags, baskets, and duffles, and proceeded to the home. As we were walking through the complex, Cathy said, "Isn't it cool that there is all this living going on around here, but in one apartment, there is a baby getting ready to be born?" Yes, it was very cool.

This is one of those experiences that as soon as it's over, you can't remember how you'd pictured it to be. We entered an apartment that was quiet, soothing, and prepared. Candles were lit, a well chosen playlist was creating a deliberate mood, and a beautiful laboring mom welcomed us into her home. Husband greeted us politely, but it was obvious he was there for one person, and she owned his attention. What soon struck me, as wonderful, was the fact that this couple had created their birth scene. It was staged in the way that the two of them had chosen as the best way to bring their new baby into their loving world. I would learn later in the week, that these birth scenes are personal,individual,and equally beautiful.

As Cathy gave her attention to the mom, as a support, not a director, I found myself feeling completely soothed, relaxed, and taken in by the calming energy in the home. Cathy gave me the recording job, documenting events, heart rates, stations, etc. Parents asked if I'd take pictures. Both of these assignments were within my capabilities, and made me feel within my personal parameters of being useful.

The laboring mom kept herself moving, feeling her body's work, breathing herself along the natural path her body was creating for this event. What really impressed me about this mother was that she seemed to own her labor. She was working with it, keeping herself on top of the discomfort (PC term for pain) in a way to work through it, not tightening against it. I could see her concentration and determination to not let it get the best of her. I thought she looked radiantly beautiful. I wish I could see the pictures of her, because I was sure I was capturing her deepest beauty as she performed her great task.

Then, it was apparent that she had transitioned into a deeper level of labor. Her participation in conversation ceased, as she entered a much more demanding phase. She started to vocalize more, as had been discussed and practiced in the birthing classes. Moaning is not a purely accurate description. It is an expulsion of energy. Release. Flow. Using her voice to work with the pain, not against it. I found it to be an empowering, earthy sound.

Cathy is positioned close by, quietly reading the mother's movements and sounds. She seems to know the exact time to suggest an adjustment in position. She offers help. I watch Cathy watch the mom. Cathy uses well experienced measures of intuition and medical knowledge. A perfect balance.

There is no denying that the time was starting to approach. Mom's intensity creates a heightened energy in the room. It pumps into everyone, a blanket of adrenaline, so that all present are prepared for action. The energy is still pure and good, not a manic energy at all. I'd describe it more as a living energy. I'm pretty sure Cathy has grown addicted to this energy. It is full of life.

Mom is in the birthing pool, and we see her baby begin to emerge. Cathy is guiding her with gentle words, as well as guiding her baby from her body. I really don't know what the time frame was during this part of the birth. I'm not sure I was breathing. The baby is a good size, and his shoulders are not coming through easily. Cathy doesn't exhibit any signs of anxiety or fear. In a very controlled tone, she instructs the dad and me to help her lift mom out of the birthing pool and place her gently on the towels already spread on the floor. Cathy needs a better position to help get this baby's shoulders turned.

Cathy and mom are working together, and there is a general sense of urgency, but Cathy is not showing any signs of distress, she is completely focused. She enlists us to help this mom turn to her hands and knees, hoping that position will help turn the baby and allow Cathy to get a better grip (I'm thinking). AH!! The baby is out, and in one motion, Cathy hands him through mom's legs to her, so she instantly has her new baby boy in her arms. A family grew before my eyes.

My novice, supremely naive self thought that we'd clean up, pack up, and get home in time for a tasty lunch. It was just a little after 2:00 pm, so I allowed myself to start thinking about eating. I'd forgotten that, at one time, Cathy had explained to me that her role elevates at the moment of birth. This is when a midwife's skill, knowledge, and expertise are most needed. And, this mom needed Cathy.

Mom, dad, and baby got themselves to the bed, leaving behind a graphic reminder that this birth wasn't completely smooth sailing. Cathy joined them, waiting for the placenta to pass, tending to mom, and checking the happy condition of new baby. Since I had nothing with which to compare, I thought this was all within the norm for a birth. Later, I would learn that this was one of Cathy's more difficult births. I would have never known had she not shared that. Nothing about Cathy's demeanor indicated anything other than normal. Nor, did this incredible mother show any panic, fear, or frustration. I witnessed the peak of female strength.

I also experienced a new concept of time. Birthing time. Time is not measured by a traditional clock. It is internally measured. It is transitionally measured. Time during a birth moves separately from the outside world. As I mentally retrace this birth story, from my vantage point, I find myself recalling time in different increments. Cathy's midwife partner, Briana arrived. What time? Sometime after the placenta! 15 minutes after placenta?

Briana's arrival brought new eyes, fresh perspective. She was not drained by the focus necessary for the labor and birth. As Cathy addressed some of the mom's issues, Briana was now available as a collaborative partner and a team member. She entered, scanned, assessed, and jumped into helping Cathy. She appeared to do this quite effortlessly, making it look everyday and breezy. Personally, I was relieved to see her! I didn't know what Cathy might ask me to do next.

A baby was born at 2:07 pm. This is the only exact time documented. We were packed up and driving away sometime around 6 pm.

On July 5, my world expanded.

...and they're all made out of ticky tacky...

2010-06-17T14:56:00.000-07:00

Showtime - Weeds

I really love this series. I have a crush on Conrad, the talented weed grower. Today, while watching season 2 - episode 12 (or maybe it was 11) - I heard a line that insisted I write it down and rejoice that there are writers who allow their imaginations to float out of the mundane box...

... "she stabbed me with an icicle when she thought I kicked one of her spirit animals."

very rewind/rewatch worthy.

The opening song is "Little Boxes"... beginning with season 2, the song is performed by a different artist each episode. I like that.

Joan Baez
Michael Franti
Randy Newman
Linkin Park
I like Laurie Berkner's version... I don't know her
good grief, even Englebert Humperdink!!

Time To Be

2010-06-16T18:03:00.000-07:00

Progress isn't achievement. Progress is fluid. Achievement is a landmark on the way.

I want a bowl of black sand for some of my crystals. It is a desire.
It's time to order more palo santo. I'm burning my last stick.
I'm daily addicted to Ciao Bella's Sicilian Blood Orange sorbet. It's my summer love.
I think I'll go to Yellowstone.
I'm alone and breathing peacefully.
I bought a kettlebell for exercising, and I like it.
A weird car just drove slowly past the house. Looks like an old-fashioned unmarked car. Dragnet.

This is what happens when I have time to think. When I own my days and the freedom of my thoughts. I have the luxury of random thinking, a mental skip-a-long for my own enjoyment.

My brain is wandering through it's own garden of thoughts.

Sage Cleanse

2010-05-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

I decided to sage my home today. I do it whenever I feel like it needs an energy uplift. I love the deep smell of the sage. I love how the smoke curls up from the bundle, like it knows it's purpose. I ask the sage to gather any negativity in my home and corral it, then carry it out of the open windows after it's been harvested.

I felt better afterwards.

This is my spirit basket. Contents are:

* sage bundle from Mendocino County
* smudging feather - purchased with sage
* palo santo stick
* labradorite - (protective while traveling. This one is going to Utah)
* jet (naturally protective)- Brass Unicorn in Fresno
* snowflake obsidian - (new beginnings) - Ojai
* not sure what the white one is, how it got in there, or where I got it.

My boy

2010-05-10T06:19:00.001-07:00

My boy gave me a beautiful card, with a heartfilled message. His heart is good and gentle to me year 'round (mostly). We went out for lunch together and talked. His bedroom is now my office, and we sat in the transformed room together. He sat in my "invisible chair" and mentioned that this used to be his room. I looked around the room, and enjoyed my mental photo album.

This room used to be a nursery. I pictured the first time I changed his diaper when we brought him home from the hospital. I was inexperienced, clumsy, and unsure. Anthony and my mom stood at my left and right, each looking over my shoulder.

I looked at the floor, because in those days, I didn't use a changing table or the crib. I liked to change his diaper on the floor. I pictured a naked baby crawling away from me, squealing and giggling at the fresh breeze on his behind.

I pictured a happy, smiling baby, standing in the same crib, waiting for his mother to lift him out.

I saw the race car bed and a little boy sleeping in it.

I saw twin beds, with Jake in one and me in the other. I had more difficult detachment issues than he did.

I saw clothes, toys, and miscellaneous crap everywhere. And an irritated and overwhelmed mom.

I heard the slamming door of a frustrated and angry teenager.

I saw a teenager sitting in his room, with his sketch pad, drawing and creating.

I saw a room with posters everywhere, and pin/nail holes sprinkled randomly across every wall (and the ceiling)

I saw other boys, friends, sitting in this room, sleeping on this floor.

And now, I looked at a young man, sitting across from me, with plans, dreams, and wonder-ifs running through his head.

I look at a young man who grew in me, and I have grown because of him.

I have only one person on this earth who calls me mom. His name is Jake. He's my baby. He's my boy. He's my family.

Water Recipe

2010-05-06T20:19:00.000-07:00

Cucumber, fresh mint, and ginger. No measurements, go with what you feel. I find that the mint dominates in taste, while the cucumber creates an early, spring morning freshness. I was careful in adding the ginger, because I didn't want it to turn out too gingery. I peeled the ginger and only added 3 or 4 quarter sized slices. I think I'll add more.

I'm not an eager water-drinker. This is a nice water to drink. Actually, this has to be very stomach settling, with the mint and ginger.

Give it a try.

Shadow-dancing with Insanity

2010-05-02T22:15:00.000-07:00

There is a chunk of time in the early evening, that I like to call "limbo'clock." After dinner, it's a time when there's nothing really to do or think about, sort of an empty time. It's too late for a nap, but too early for bed, yet, not enough time to get involved in anything exciting. Often, during limbo'clock I'll decide to drive to Hanford for some random shopping.

Tonight, my initial intention was to go to Michael's (Stepford craft women ---- shivers!). I need to get my supplies for Mothers' Day projects. I'm not a religious Michael's shopper, so I wasn't aware that the store closed at 7 pm on Sundays. I arrived at.... 7 pm. So, I walked two doors down to Marshalls, walked through with only a slight interest, bought some workout clothes (whatever) and left.

Next, I went to Target, because I needed laundry soap. I completely love the randomness that is available by shopping at Target. The only "must purchase" necessary was the soap. But, really... why waste a drive and Target trip for only one item!? So, I started my zigzag through the store.

At some point, I started to feel out of my body. It was like I wanted to rush through the store and pretend I was in a shopping sweepstakes! The urge to *make purchases* was building momentum inside me. I really needed nothing, but I wanted to buy stuff.

I looked at:

Keurig coffee pods
kitchen cafe curtains
bedding (I think I have a bedding fetish)
wall shelves
bar stools
iPods
TVs
CDs
exercise balls
hangers
purses
clutch/wallets
make up
computer ink
books
baby clothes (Diane, you may very well benefit from my insanity)

I DID mention random shopping, didn't I? As I was morphing into a moth around a Target porch light, I started to focus on this inner urge to buy something. I really felt like just throwing crap into my cart. I was wondering what it felt like to start a slow boil to insanity.

When I was wandering through the book section, I saw a number of books I would love to buy and read, which brought to mind that some years ago I lost my ability to really read. Okay, I still know HOW to read, but I never do that - nose in a book - kind of reading. I loved that kind of reading. I feel like I've lost a chunk of my attention span for reading. I read a couple of pages, then I close the book. I've narrowed down the reason to 1)eyesight dwindle and/or 2)no place in the house with good lighting and comfort. I have lighting OR comfort, but nowhere with both.

Back to the insanity. I started thinking about this lack of reading attention, and started to wonder if this is some early stage of fading away from intellectual strength? Should I force myself to read? I like to read. I just don't read intensely. I'm thinking I should keep my reading brain in good shape, or I might lose brain tone. My brain might get flabby. It's happening to other parts of me, the brain might be losing it's tone too. (Keep in mind, I probably appeared to be a normal shopper, but these were the thoughts that were running through my mind).

Wait! Maybe blogging is keeping my brain in shape! Oh, not if I write randomly. Oh great! Now I'm just encouraging my own abstract randomness.

Well, one thing that is comforting. I completely filled in my limbo'clock and it's now time for bed. Which leads me to the thrill that my sheets are white and freshly washed. Ahhhhh.

summer

2010-05-02T08:49:00.000-07:00

I keep thinking about summer. Not the heat. Each season fogs the memory of how hot summer can be. So does indoor air conditioning.

I'm thinking about my travel plans and my first big solo, cross state line adventure.

I love to plan for "something". To pick up the idea in my head and look at it from every angle.

I love options and researching the best option.

How can I get the most bang for my buck? Southern route the first leg and take the across/northern route on the return trip.

I love an open-ended plan, with no restrictions. I really love no restrictions.

I wonder what my brain will think about during those hours alone on the road?

I will plan my music playlist and I'll plan on loud singing on the way.

I'll try to not be in a hurry.

I'm excited to have my own car so I can throw in whatever I need and probably a lot of what I won't need. (no restrictions)

Oh! I just remembered... SNACKS!!

I need this trip. I need to breathe. I need to reboot.

I feel screamy in my heart!

Another school year

2010-04-22T06:20:00.000-07:00

It seems like I was just posting about the coming school year, and preparing for my new crop of 3rd graders.

Now, we're winding down another entire school year. I've added another notch, another personality year. Class number 29. Amazing that it goes that fast. I wish I could post pictures of some of these faces. I can't even post names. But, here is a sampling of the personalities:

girl - entered so shy. She would only marginally speak to me. She actually seemed frightened of me (at times, with good reason). But, she was prime for academic growth. I could see that in her. She has very supportive parents, who love her so dearly, and want her to push to her fullest capabilities. Definitely her ace in the hole.

She's now almost chatty with me. She's shown wonderful growth this year. She has blossomed. She's on her way.

boy - I have one who is a tough one. He's determined to take the path of bad choices. He's drawn to it, doesn't fear it, and won't allow himself to care about the punishments or consequences. But, we have a relationship. I'm hard on him, I refuse to let up on him, and he knows it. He knows it comes from my heart.

crazy boy - this is my ADD dancer. He HAS to move. I love him!!! He is a big ball of happy. He's on meds, and they help him. If he isn't on his meds, he wiggles and moves constantly. He even wiggles and wags his tongue! It cracks me up. He's a good student, and the meds help him to focus, but they don't fog him up. He loves life. His enthusiasm is contagious.

fairy/pixie girl - everyone should hear her say her Pledge of Allegiance in the morning. It is precious. She says it with a full, patriotic heart. Her eyes twinkle when she smiles.

over-indulged boy - There's always one. I understand the hole they're trying to fill in him... give him "things".. give him whatever he wants.. make him happy. His mom left when he was a toddler. He's loved by his grandparents. HUGELY loved. They just want to fill that sadness. A note to his mom..... "Do you have any idea what damage your selfishness has done?"

bossy boy - Soooooo smart!!! I love teaching this one. But, my oh my... he is one bossy guy!!! When I mentioned this to his mom and sisters during our conference (sisters were there to translate), they all burst into laughter! I wasn't telling them anything they didn't already know!! He is definitely a leader. I can't wait to see where this one goes and what he accomplishes.

And, the year winds down to a close. We've spent a school year together. We've grown in many ways. We've butted heads. We've laughed. We've danced and listened to music. We've learned. We've learned about one another. We've struggled. We gave each other the flu. We've had hurt feelings. Friends moved away. New friends moved in. Some friends moved and returned! School life is real life, concentrated within four walls.

One last note. This week I didn't wear a bra. I only wore camisoles with shelf bras in them. I've been much more relaxed, much more patient, and waaaaaay more comfortable. If they don't like a little jiggle, they can call me into the principal's office. Who knew that braless = happy teacher?!?! I'm going to share that at the lunch table tomorrow.

Diana Krall, Elvis Costello & Willie Nelson - Crazy (Live)

2010-04-19T19:30:00.000-07:00

30 years later

2010-04-18T21:33:00.000-07:00

Today I returned to SCICON (Science and Conservation). It is Tulare County's Outdoor Ed. camp. I worked there for one school year.. 1980-81. My job was taking 6th graders on a bird watching hike. I was the bird teacher, which is ironic, because I have a bit of a bird phobia. I love watching and identifying birds in the outdoors. Get me indoors with birds and I freak.

I remember nature's idea of quiet: the sounds of birds, rustling wind, the rushing waters of the stream. I have aromamemory (I just invented that word. Good word, huh?). There are scents that change with the season. Scents that signal the time of day. I smelled them today. They are so fleeting, that as soon as the whiff catches your attention, it seems to evaporate away, and you're left trying to identify the source from memory.

Today I returned, after 30 years. It looked different. Ha, but then, so do I!

The cabins have had a lot of upgrades.
I could use some upgrades myself.
The program has been fine-tuned and polished.
I'd like to think I'm much more fine-tuned and polished than I was 30 years ago.
The lodge has been extended and is larger.
My butt seems to have been extended and is definitely larger.
The area has flourished, in spite of drought, changes in leadership, and harsh weather.
I believe I've flourished, in spite of obstacles and challenges.

As we got out on the trail, I started to feel the 30 year old essence of the area. I listened to the quiet sounds of nature. I smelled springtime. I was so lucky to have had the chance to work there. To be outside, surrounded by the serenity of natural beauty, each day. I don't remember ever feeling like it was too hot, too cold, too rainy, or too windy to go out on the trails. I had the opportunity, everyday, to teach children to observe, listen, watch, and expect miracles and beauty from nature.

We walked the trails, and I was happy to realize so much of that "naturalist" knowledge popped back into my head. I recognized a bay laurel tree, pulled off a leaf so I could have my friends smell the real source of the leaf that they purchase and throw into their stews. I pointed out the difference between wild blackberries and poison oak. I explained that acorn woodpeckers place acorns in holes as a lure to insects. As the acorn rots and bugs are attracted, the woodpeckers eat the bugs. It was all coming back to me. Random tidbits, making me a walking Trivial Pursuit game.

Unfortunately, there were too many people at this open day for exploring. So, the truest serenity was not to be had. On the trail, a couple of youths started to crowd us. I was feeling sort of boxed in by them, tailgaters. I wanted to pull over and let them pass. Then, when one of them turned on his iPod and I had to listen to Nickelback .... well, I wanted to short circuit! I got Stacy's attention, and directed her away from the trail for a closer look at one of the rocks in the stream. We let them pass us and go on their musical way, so we could proceed on our lovely walk. I don't have issue with Nickelback, but I DO have issue with listening to any iPod tunes while walking next to a babbling stream!

As we came to the end of the trail, this is the sign we all turned around to read. I guess we were leaving at the entrance of the trail. This made for a good laugh.

30 years later. Wow.

Portuguese Sweet Bread

2010-04-05T07:47:00.000-07:00

I love the Easter holiday. When I was young, it meant a week in Monterey with my grandparents. My memories of Monterey are bright blue skies, the gorgeous bay visible from my Nana's backdoor, listening to the sound of sea lions barking, and calla lilies and poppies in her front garden. Each year, Nonnie baked these great Easter cookies. She mixed her own sugar cookie dough (this dough was unique, yellowish and slightly different from any sugar dough I've known since)and cut out heart-shaped cookies. Then, she'd hard boil and dye Easter eggs, which would be placed in the center of the cookie. Across the egg, she'd use her ravioli wheel and cut out strips of cookie dough, then create a cross across the egg, to hold it in place on the heart.

This cookie had a lot of symbolism for the Easter holiday.... the heart represented our love of Jesus, the cross - well, of course, the cross He died on, and the egg represented new life and Jesus rising from the dead.

No one in the family has ever baked these cookies. The tradition died with her. I don't think anyone in the family has the cookie dough recipe. Rumor has it that my cousin's sister-in-law sat, watched, and wrote down the recipe, and is holding the recipe hostage. She won't give it to my cousin!!

So, that was my Italian family memory of Easter. Sometime around the time I was 12 years old, our family switched, and we started having Easter in Lemoore. Equally wonderful memories, filled with spring skies, green grass, my mother's flower garden of irises, daffodils, and roses, and Easter brunch in our screen house.

We had a screened in "house" in our front yard. Basically, it was a huge rectangular slab of concrete, with screened in walls, a porch swing inside, electrical outlets, and picnic tables. My description might sound ghetto, but it was really fabulous. This is where we enjoyed our Easter brunch, with tables inside and outside, kids playing while adults could watch, and like any family gathering, delicious food.

This is where the tradition of Portuguese Sweet Bread comes in. The only parts of the meal I remember are scrambled eggs, fruit, linguica (Portuguese sausage) and sweet bread. Ahhhh, the sweet bread! My mom baked it the day before, and it was torturous to not be allowed to snack, nibble, and sneak the bread. Especially the dough as it was rising. Okay, I DID sneak it. Mom always freaked out because "There are raw eggs in that!!! You'll get sick!!!" The dough was sooo yummy, it was well worth taking my chances. And, by the way, I've never known of anyone to get sick from eating dough with eggs in it.

My nieces continue to bake this bread, and my son LOVES it. So, this year, I decided to dive in and try my hand at it. I was going to bake my own Portuguese Sweet Bread.

Truth... I have kitchen issues. I don't cook or bake very much, so I've not developed the "feel" that great cooks have. I have to follow the recipe, ask a lot of questions, and leave nothing to "Oh, you'll be able to tell." No, I won't be able to tell, so you must tell me!

So, I asked my nieces for their recipe. This recipe actually came from their grandmother (their dad's side), though I think my mother used it too.

Anne sent the recipe to me and wished me luck. Paula sent words of confidence and encouragement. Anne kept sending me extra tips... 6 eggs, placed in warm water, bring to room temperature. Use the wisk for beating, the paddle for mixing. The dough will be very pliable and stretchy.

I was getting nervous.

But, once I started, it felt really good to be baking real bread! Traditional. My kitchen was partaking in Easter and in family memories.

Then I came to the kneading. Confusion set it. How long do I knead the dough? My hit and miss baking background brought to mind the idea of OVER kneading and creating a tough dough. Yikes!! How long should I knead this dough?? Do I want to add air to it? Will that dry it out? If I knead it too long, will I kill the activated yeast? I decided to knead it for a short time. I later learned that this was a mistake. After consulting with my sweet bread experts, Anne and Paula, I learned that a minimum of 6 minutes kneading time is necessary--- not 90 seconds.

I kneaded the dough, and made my rolls. I watched them with a worrisome eye. They appeared to rise a little more, so I guess I didn't man-handle the yeast into submission.

It was time for baking. Next mistake. This was just dumb. I have an "easy convection" setting on my oven, but did I use it?? No. I set the oven on convection, but then I set the regular recipe temp and time. Duh!!! Convection baking needs to be set at a lower baking temperature, and it takes less baking time. I didn't make those adjustments.

I didn't burn the rolls, but they were more biscuity than rolly. Too crispy, crusty on the outside, though pretty good on the inside! When the rolls came out of the oven, I brushed all of them with more butter (the recipe calls for 2 cups of butter... see why these are SOOOO good??). After they cooled, I put them into zip lock storage bags. This was a good move. All that buttery, greasy moisture got locked in with the rolls, and softened them.

Not perfect, but still pretty tasty. My first attempt didn't destroy me. I'll do this again.

What's on your flip side?

2010-03-09T18:40:00.001-08:00

Last Sunday I was driving home from San Luis Obispo. An extraordinarily beautiful drive at this time of year. The hills are velvety green and wildflowers are starting their brilliant show. I was happily lost in my own thoughts. Who can retrace the bizarre pattern of thoughts that lead us to some sort of personal "aha" moment? I can't tell you what I was thinking about, why I was thinking it, or if I was even consciously on this planet... but, I started thinking about individual personalities, quirks, faults, and traits. We are, at a minimum, two sided. No matter how great we are on one side, we all have a flip side.

45 rpm records. Childhood's version of iTunes. How much did a 45 cost? $.50? $1.00? No more than that, I'm pretty sure. When you bought a 45 single, you acquired your favorite song, plus there was always "the flip side." The record had two recordable sides; Side A and Side B. Sometimes you lucked out, and both sides were equally playable.

All of us have our popular hit side. Side A is the reason for the purchase. Side B comes with the deal. Side A attracts your interest. You want to own it, play it over and over again, learn all the lyrics, sing along. Sooner or later, you'll hear Side B, the flip side.

What then?? Will you listen to it and wonder,
"Is this by the same artist!?"
"How could THIS song be matched with my beloved hit song?"

Will you listen patiently and give it a chance? Maybe this flip side will grow on you? Is it possible you might even find yourself singing along to this less popular song? Will you minimally tolerate it, quietly thinking:

"Ugh, I hope I don't have to listen to this too often!"

I did a little research.

The Beatles' single, "Yesterday"

Side B---------Ringo singing "Act Naturally"

Not horrible, but kind of a kooky flip to a beautiful song. I think I want to be this 45 record.

What's on your flip side?

Butterfly

2010-03-04T06:49:00.000-08:00

These days
I am a butterfly.
Thriving on ideas
fluttering from one to another.
drinking the sweet taste of nectar,
Keeping me moving.

Floating with the wind,
to the next flower,
new colors, new life,
Will I miss the beauty
if I stay in one garden?

Aroma of growth
the scent of a changing season,
Freshens my heart
Enlivens my soul.
I drift and soar from flower to flower,
purposefully in mind,
aimlessly to the smaller eyes.

One might call me noncommital.
I feel committed to all.
As I am nurtured
I nurture.
These days,
I am a butterfly.

If I Were a Color

2010-03-01T20:41:00.000-08:00

If I were a color I would be blue.
I would be as blue as a tropical sea
I would taste like a snowcone or candy poppers.
If I were a color, I would be blue.

If I were a color I would be blue.
I would smell like the air after a cleansing rain
I would sound like the cooing of the dove at dusk.
If I were a color, I would be blue.

-------

This is the poetry pattern I taught to my students. Their poems are beautiful. Another day, I might be another color.

Poster's Block

2010-02-23T20:54:00.001-08:00

I have no inspiring thoughts.
I don't expect to inspire anyone, but I do enjoy inspiring myself when I write out my brain glitter.

My face hurts. It feels raw. I'm afraid to look at it again. Either I scrubbed too hard or I'm having a reaction to the pain patch I put on my hand today (Myles' suggestion). I don't like to use other people's medications. I should stick with my gut.

I have a new bed. It's 8:56 pm. I want to go to bed, so I can feel the new mattress and the new white sheets.

I have a new great niece. Dominique Bettencourt. I already love her, but I've only seen a text pic. Her parents are so smart and beautiful. I think she might be a princess.

I want to go to South Jordan. I want to go for walks and talk. I want to drink hot cocoa, then have a cleansed colon.

I have a book in my head. A children's book. I'm writing it. I am! I need to sit in my invisible chair and create a story line. My characters are ready to go.

Something feels "off".

I'm going to be in the San Francisco St. Patrick's Day parade! I'll be the one wearing a green shirt.

I'm going to look at my face now.

Living the present

2010-02-07T10:11:00.000-08:00

Living in the present
past experiences are foundations of lessons, repairs, padding, checkpoints
future is hope, implementation, creation, direction, anticipation.

but, what about the now?

Today is both a foundation and a creation.
Today belongs to me right now.
Today is at its best, if I let it.
Today is opportunity.
Today is the crossroad between yesterday and tomorrow.
Today is only 24 hours.... good or bad, it only lasts 24 hours.
So, right now, today? I feel happy, in general.
I feel loose in my direction, but trying to straighten out.
I will be with friends and there will be laughter. That's a good day.
My choices will be simple and uncomplicated. I will remember to be grateful (thank you) that I don't have any lifechanging decisions to make today.

I have my foundation, and it is stable. Thank you.
Life long friends... wow. This defines a huge part of me. Thank you.
Deep love of family. Given and received. Big thank you.

Today.
Today.
Today.

I'm in the middle of my own era.

2010- realignment?

2010-01-23T21:53:00.000-08:00

I feel strange.
I feel change coming.
I'm kind of apprehensive.
Remaining uplifted feels weighted, but not heavy.
Maybe it's just winter doldrums.
This is going to take some work.

guide me

2010-01-09T18:18:00.000-08:00

Guide me into 2010

experience more
eat right
stop, breathe, appreciate
spend time with the real people
outdoors
spirit
connections
paint
essential oils
enjoy my crystals
add to the garden
10 minutes a day of quiet thought
remind myself they are children, not testing stats
take Jake on a road trip
Ukiah
expanding light retreat
Jackson Hole
Phoenix
Sedona
visit my brother
prepare myself
exercise (I mean it!)
journal write
step out of comfort zone more
1 new dish a month (one that lasts)
stray from the plan when necessary (and often)
remember "myaswell"
smoky barriers only
carry my happiness with me

..........to be continued

Myaswell.....

2010-01-07T21:45:00.000-08:00

Driving to Bakersfield. No fog. Good sign.
Burger King veggie burger at Phoenix airport. What's up with that??
US Airways changes my gate. How was I to know? Almost missed boarding.
60+ish lady in black tights, black fur-lined boots, short ruffly skirt, busy holiday sweater. I was oddly curious.
My friend greets me. The purpose.
Family night. Honored to be included. Balderdash. Delish refreshments(thanks, Jade)
Late nights... soak up all the time we can.
Gateway. Lost car in garage. Found.
Temple Square. Inspiring. Beautiful.
Red Iguana. Oh yes!!
Mountain View.
I love Margaret so much.
My sweet new girl, Amy, fixes us a great dinner. I liked watching her kitchen ease.
Bureau of Reclamation mug. Treasured. Dan is missing in my visits. Hurts.
Appalachian kinfolk.
Rock band rocks.
Cameron kisses. "Shake what your mama gave ya"
Late drive. Watch for wildlife.
Day of no plans. Perfect.
Paul McCartney. He's lovely.
Dagoda cocoa with cayenne. Yummy. Tummy rumbles. Cleansing.
Baby Jack. Darling. Happy. Bright.
Presley. Two happy feet. Noodle arms.Funny camels. Are they lumpy, bumpy, or grumpy?
Golden Braid.
Too bundled up. Menopausal flash. Start stripping layers in the store.
Massage stones. Can't wait to use them.
Oasis. seared ahi. Carob and pistachio soup?? Oh. Carrot and pistachio. Either way... dinner was perfect.
Chuck hesitantly joined us. I was glad he stayed.
Sundance.
Horrifying scales.
Boots that felt like my feet were dipped in concrete blocks. And you want me to walk in these?
Nice people. Encouraging. Liars, in the best of ways.
Rope tow.. butt trails.. squeals of delight? Really? Rescue.
Cathy skis like nobody's business.
Gina. Not so much. Nice winter wear though.
White cotton. White snow. and n'er the twain shall meet.
How do you spell Johanne? g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s.
Up on skis.
Down.
Can't get up.
Up on skis.
Down.
Can't get up. "Oh, hi Cathy! What? your 3rd time down the hill?"
I'm pissed.
Up.
Down.
Let me enjoy the beauty surrounding me.
Cathy's down. There's blue snow. It's not good.
boots off. Tinker Bell returns.
Old bones. Hot tub temporarily remedies aches.
Carson is smart. Really. Watch him. He knows.
How many calories does laughing burn? We should be runway models.
Packing for home. Many new treasures in my suitcase.
Another successful adventure.
Cathy is a jumper. I'm a toe tester. Compliment.
I am friend rich. Heaven touched. Heart full.

Songs

2009-12-21T18:16:00.001-08:00

I have a song in my head, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Don't you think we all have a song list we wish we could sing? Really sing. Here's the beginning of my list:

Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Judy Garland style
Somewhere Over the Rainbow - Bruddah Iz style
Ave Maria
Crazy
In My Life
Livin' On the Edge
(probably all the songs I have playing on this blog)

thinking, singing, humming...... what are your songs?

The Stockings Are Hung

2009-12-17T17:33:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, I was not having a good holiday season. It was the last week of school before vacation, and I was in survival mode, amidst children deserving of their Christmas high energy. It was after lunch, and it was time to read "Polar Express" to the students. Reading after lunch is truly calming to the students, and equally calming to me. I'm always amazed,but privately pleased, that I have students unfamiliar with this heartwarming Christmas story. I love witnessing the thrill of this story. After I'd finished reading, we started talking about our Santa beliefs (always a fascinating conversation with 8 year olds). One student said, "Santa doesn't come to Stratford." He said it so matter-of-factly, no hint of sadness, just stating the facts. I showed complete surprise and disbelieve!! "What?!? What do you mean, Santa doesn't come to Stratford?!" And his response.... "We don't have chimneys."

And my story sprouted.

I told them that Santa knew how to get into all homes, afterall, he was Santa!! He especially has close ties with schools, since they are places where large groups of children congregate. Getting into a classroom is small potatoes for Santa. So, we glittered our names on stockings (need I tell you that the Dollar Store is a Godsend to teachers?!?) and hung them before leaving on our winter break. The children were true believers that Santa would deliver.

Another story sprouted.

I told my students that my father had found a bell on Christmas morning, many years ago. I explained my father's age at my birth, so he would be over 100 years old if he were still alive!!! Wow!!! Stories that happen a long time ago are much more believable! My dad's parents didn't have a lot of money, so toys were out of the question at Christmas.... Christmas was a few gifts, mostly important items like socks, a toothbrush, maybe some hard candy. And, in those days, Santa only gifted the basics.

My story unfolded, as I described my father and his little sister, my aunt, playing outside on Christmas morning. They were playing when something glistened and caught my father's eye. He went to investigate, and discovered this bell on the ground. He and his sister where thrilled, since this was the closest thing to a toy they had. They were sure it was a gift intended especially for them! The bell, just like the bell in the Polar Express, could only be heard by my father and his little sister. His parents were not able to hear the tinkling sound, and they thought it was just a silly piece of metal. But, my father and his sister knew exactly where it had come from.... it was from Santa's sleigh! That was the only explanation! They lived way out in the country, no neighbors, no one had visited their home!

I told my students that when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I heard kids talking on the playground, questioning the existence of Santa. I went home a little sad that day, and asked my dad, "Daddy? Is Santa real?"

He took me into his bedroom and climbed up on a chair to reach something way in the back of his closet. He brought before me, a beautiful box. It was red, with black velvet lining, and wrapped in linen handkerchief was a bell. The bell.

My story grew, right before my needing students. I was on a roll! I looked out at the faces of 8 year olds, who really wanted to know that their teacher believed in Santa. I told them, to this day I have that bell that my father found. And, each year, I ring it for my son, who is now an adult. And each year, we continue to hear it's tinkling sound, and we laugh, clap, and rejoice in our belief!

I told that class that I would bring the bell to school the following day.

When I arrived, I was greeted by anxious students running my way, wanting to know only one thing.... did I bring the bell?! Yes, and we'll ring it in class.

Once in class, I opened the box with careful drama. I gingerly lifted the bell out, and at once, I was surrounded by gasps. I held it up, holding it so the clacker would move at the precise moment I needed the sound. There were smiles, wide eyes, and even a few tentative faces.... I'm sure worried they wouldn't hear the bell. Then, I slowly started to move the bell, until we started to hear the tinkling. "I hear it!!!!" "Do you still hear it, Mrs. Wiens?!" The room exploded in cheers and validation. YES! Santa lives!!! I knew it!!!!

We ran all over the school, from adult to adult. The children would ask, "Do you here this?" Of course! Happy squeals, cartwheels, jumping. Then, one of my students asked me, "Do the deaf students hear the bell?" I answered, "Well, I'm pretty sure they do, but maybe not in the way we do. I think they might hear it in their heart. Let's go see." The Deaf and Hard of Hearing class was outside, and I found Brian, one student who wore a hearing aid, and I knew he had some hearing. One of my students went to him with the bell and rang it. "Do you hear this?" Brian signed, "Yeah, I hear it."

It was a done deal.

So, today, I read the story. I shared the bell. And, for another year, my students lifted my holiday spirit. They believe without question. Their reactions come from a place of purity.

And in my room is a giant letter to Santa. For, he will come to our class while we are on vacation. He will leave toys and goodies in each students' stocking. And in his goodness, he will grant our letter's wish. When my students dig into their stockings on their return to school in January, each of them will delight in the discovery of a single silver bell in the toe of their stocking.

My heart believes.

Angel Pen

2009-11-15T22:25:00.000-08:00

There's this kind of writing, it's called automatic writing. I didn't invent it, it's been around for a long, long time. But, I did it without really knowing it had a name. I called it Angel Writing. I have a journal that I call my angel journal, and, though I haven't written in it lately, I'd write my thoughts, plans, questions, whatever was pressing on my mind. Thoughts that needed to be unleashed. One day, I was heavy with "thoughts" and I wrote in a sort of disengaged way. It felt like I removed myself, started to write, and just let thoughts flow. I didn't interrupt myself for clarity or sense, I just wrote. What flowed actually seemed to be a communication from my angels, because at some point, I no longer felt like I was writing, I felt like someone was talking to me on the paper. The entire writing was completed in just minutes, pretty much as long as it took to get the letter/words/sentences onto the paper. I hope I'm not scaring you (the phantom reader).

I just revisited my angel journal, and read one of my entries. I'm going to be brave and share what was written. Unabrigdged. As it was written.

March 25, 2008

The realness of universal light and love, the gifts of all lightworkers ~ are as true as God. If one can believe and marvel at the person gifted with a voice that inspires, if we accept the gifted blessing of intellectual discoveries and achievements that benefit man, if we are stunned by the varieties of artistic expressions, then it is true that there are blessed on this earth, from the universe of love and goodness, lightworkers as I am, who can inspire, teach, warm, love, guide, and heal through our God gifted energies.
This is also in God's truth. God gave us the Garden of Eden. His Earth that would provide all we need to live our best. It is still here. We remain in the Garden of Eden, we just need to open our eyes. This Earth provides, we provide to one another, God, angels, and universe provide to our souls. It is here, we are within the web of physical, emotional, and spiritual life.
Stay safe, but travel with glee on the flowing changes through life. You will see it all, the beauty, the joy, the pain, tears, laughter, birth, death ~ all part of the flow, which still remains beautiful with light and love. There is even light in the middle of the night. Even if dim, it still remains. Don't forget. Even if clouds cover it, the guiding lights glow.

Morning Wall of Happy

2009-11-07T08:09:00.000-08:00

These are my rainbow faeries. The prism I have hanging in the window casts the most vividly glorious rainbows all over the wall and the floor. When I'm walking out from my bedroom, ready to leave for work, I always stop in my tracks to gaze at their encouraging spirit of happiness. "Good morning, my rainbow faeries!" I can almost hear them giggling and warming my soul for the day ahead of me. Some days I stand so I have a rainbow on my face, or on my heart. This HAS to be a good thing. It feels good. Sometimes I hold a rainbow in my hand or let it cast onto my bare foot.

I discovered that as the world changes its tilt, I lose them. I'll have to try different spots in the house, because I miss their daily greetings. They just returned in the last month. Hmmmm, they are seasonal!!!

The picture doesn't do them justice. Come over and see them. You'll be uplifted.

"turn right, and see if it takes you anywhere"

2009-10-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

"You can turn right, and see if it takes you anywhere"

These directions were given to Cathy and me when we were driving into Ojai. We knew we were in for a magical time. In fact, this became our weekend mantra. I'm thinking, it ranks right up there with some other well known directions:

....Follow the yellow brick road....
....Second star to the right and straight 'til morning....
....You, who are on the road, must have a code, that you can live by....
....The long and winding road....

Our time together was what we hoped it to be. Laughs, ease, familiarity, laughs, reconnecting. Did I mention laughs?

We both loved Ojai. Really. It was a town that seemed to signify "us". Easy, earthy, friendly, warm, a glowing energy. We were meant for that place, and it was meant for us. We found treasures. We'll return. Imsojai. We'resojai. Only one person flipped me off. Must have been an out-of-towner. Back at ya, dude.

I cleansed my crystals in the Pacific Ocean. Cathy went all baptismal mermaid on me.
We saw sea elephants and zebras (really... no hallucinogens involved). We didn't see Sergeant Pepper.

Bugs in the room. Okay, only 1 was spotted, but we both know they travel in tribes. People hanging around the motel... "tell me about your clientele. Is everyone a paying customer?"

I'll continue this later.

leaving the flock

2009-09-29T18:17:00.001-07:00

Today, my heart was touched by a student. He is in the severely handicapped class. Deeply autistic. Locked inside himself, surrounded by a world that is fast-moving, confusing, and often frightening.

I was taking both 3rd grade classes to PE. Our campus has security fences (don't even get me started) around the entire school, so for our class to get out to the track, I have to unlock one of the gates. When we arrived, there was this lone student, from the SpEd class. I looked around, searching for the rest of his class. But the kids and teacher were nowhere to be seen. This was extremely unusual, because these students are under constant supervision, and someone is always holding their hand when they go anywhere.

I was trying to get the gate unlocked, and my little friend was making strange yipping noises. No words, no eye contact. I wasn't sure if the noises were stressful or gleeful. But, I knew he wanted out/in. I finally got the gate unlocked, and took him by the hand. I knew that this could go one of two ways. I was a stranger to him, unless somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he had me filed as a teacher. Taking his hand could send him into flight mode, and then I'd have a runner on my hands. Luckily, he allowed me to hold his hand. Actually, he seemed to be bothered by hand to hand contact. I held his wrist. He resisted a little bit, but I believe that he "knew" I was okay.

I had 32 other students with me. My aide had gone ahead to set up the activity in the gym. Something in the other kids registered that this was not the time to riot. Something told them that I had to give all my attention to this little boy. So, both 3rd grade classes walked with me, while I decided what to do.

I walked him to the gym, looking for his class. The gym was empty. He stayed with me, pulling a few times, but I gently held on to him; loose enough to allow him some space, but firm enough to keep him close. Then I felt something. I felt him holding MY hand. He was holding on to me too. We had personal contact! My aide returned, so I left him with the "flock", while I took the one lone sheep back to his own meadow. We walked quietly, and without thought or plan, I hummed to him. We walked together, me soothingly humming, this quiet little guy at my side.

I felt like walking on and on, holding hands, void of conversation. I stroked the top of his head and whispered, "It's alright." He seemed so fragile and so gentle. As we approached his classroom, his teacher and the aide were just coming out of the room. The aide looked pretty rattled. She'd had "a runner" and she'd darted off after that one, while this little guy wandered. She thanked me and took his other hand. I felt him hold on to my hand more tightly. He pulled me with him, until the aide released his hand from mine. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to go to class with him and watch his day. But, my flock was waiting.

flu report

2009-09-29T06:03:00.000-07:00

So far, so good. I must have just been overly tired last Friday. Still taking Vitamin C everyday, drinking Airborne when I think of it, and yesterday bought zinc to add to the growing meal of vitamins. My collegues laugh at my cup of vitamins I have with lunch.... B1, Vit.C, calcium, magnesium, fish oil, osteo biflex... I spend more time downing the supplements than I spend eating my lunch.

Weather is supposed to drop a good chunk today. Everyone was getting irritated with the extended heat. Am I the only person who remembers that September is NOT fall weather? Everyone is always so surprised when the weather stays hot through September!! October has a wonderful personality, very tempermental. October does whatever the hell it feels like doing. October does not box itself in, it is not predictable. I like October.

flu outbreak

2009-09-25T23:43:00.001-07:00

Our school has been plagued with "the flu". Our school nurse thinks it's the H1N1. Whatever it is, it's knocking 'em down hard. I had 5 kids sick, and none of them were back in fewer than 4 days. One first grade teacher has had 12 out of 22 hit with it! I think about 25% of our students have been sick this past week and a half. One 1st grade class coined a new term... the "handitizer"... the hand sanitizer dispsenser that has now been installed in each classroom!! The term makes perfect sense, doesn't it??

Presently, I'm not feeling so hot. I'm not exactly sure if I'm plain old tired or the "beginning of something" tired. I really want to go to bed, but I'm afraid. I don't want those aches and flu things to start picquing during the night, while I'm trying to find my deep, comforting slumber. So, I'm staying up until I can no longer keep my eyes open (which presently feels like only 7 minutes). Then, I'll drag myself, eyes half mast, droopy-armed, to bed and flop.

I also know that, traditionally, I get sick sometime during the end of September. I don't know if it's my annual "Attack of the New Group" germfest, when my body has to build new immunities to the current class... or.... a seasonal, valley thing. But, more Septembers than not, I get sick. I try not to. I take vitamin C. I get to bed early. I eat as well as I can (okay, I could probably eat better). I took Airborne tonight. I wash my hands a LOT. And I try to not breathe when kids are around. That one's tough.

I really don't want to be sick. The worst part is having to create lesson plans for a sub for more than one day. I hate doing lesson plans for subs!! Really hate it. Most teachers do. We'll go to work sick, rather than create lesson plans... they're such a pain.

I'm tired enough now. I'm going to bed. I'm going to take a crystal to bed and tuck it under my pillow. Strength. Can't hurt. Damn... and I was planning on getting my first flu shot this Wednesday!

token post

2009-09-21T06:07:00.000-07:00

I've come here a number of times, with the intent to post something. I guess, lately, I've just felt flat and uninspired to share any thoughts, feelings, or experiences. I'm without expression.

Honestly, I'm working very hard, mentally, to avoid this school year from sucking the life out of me. It's turning out to be difficult. Yes and no, the kids aren't the easiest bunch to teach. Extremely distractable and immature. If I knew I could wait it out, because during the school year, they'll mature (somewhat), and after some maturing, I could do some SUPER teaching, I'd be a bit more relaxed. But, testing pressures, or should I say, SCORING pressures, has done a real number on squeezing a lot of joy out of this job. The powers that be don't seem to acknowledge that their scoring goals are measuring real life children. I don't have time to wait for nature. I have to CREATE a new, testable nature! I have to push against the nature for some of these kids. Oh, and believe me, some of them will push back.

I'm already stressing out. I'm trying to stay calm, find the middle where I can hold on to my own philosophies, values, and truths, yet work at producing what is required of my students and me.

I'm stressed that it is early Monday morning, and the thought of a new week is tiring me out, already.

I need to breathe.

I'm going to take a bath this morning. Do a little mind traveling.

I want to stay home and hide.

My annoying disorder

2009-09-11T05:58:00.001-07:00

This is not a medical disorder. It's more of an OCD disorder. I've just recently noticed myself doing this, and I have no idea how long I've been doing it. I'm aware of it, yet I still do it. Okay..... here it is. I hum "The Chicken Dance" when I'm in the shower, and while I'm getting ready in the morning. Why do I do this?!?!?! When did this start, and WHY the chicken dance?!!??

It gets worse. I not only hum the chicken dance, but I hum it in a cheesy, lounge singer style. Ugh! Really, I do this. I hate it. It's never another song. It happens. Every day. Every shower. I have no idea how long ago this started, but it's completely annoying. I do it, subconsciously, until I become consciously aware of it. I've TRIED to change tunes, but for some reason, this is the tune that keeps me moving through my morning routine.

Crap. The chicken dance??? THE CHICKEN DANCE?!?!? Are you kidding me???

California Adventure

2009-09-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

Cathy,

Search Ojai, California. I think this is where we need to explore together. I haven't been there, but I feel like I need to go there with you in October. We can travel along the coast, pretend we're California explorers, and continue our journey of imagination. Are you game?

Opening Day

2009-09-02T06:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was opening day of dove season. This was the biggest day of the year in our family, when Anthony was here. There was great preparation the night before, then awake at 4 am on September 1, to meet up with the other hunters, for a day of shooting and testosterone spiked camraderie.

It was hysterical to watch the dogs go crazy, simply at the sight of Anthony taking out the guns. Yogi especially. When Anthony entered the living room with gun in tow, Yogi would run back and forth, from living room to garage door. He knew what that gun meant, and he loved hunting with Anthony. He was a tireless dog, willing to push it as long as Anthony wanted to hunt. Missy, on the other hand, wasn't as enthusiastic a hunter. Anthony said she was more distracted by the other dogs, and behaved as if she really didn't like carrying birds in her mouth. Hello, Missy!!! You're a weimaraner!!! You're bred for this!!! Oh well.

Anthony was also the camp chef for all the men, so the night before opening day, I was his prep chef. As he got his guns ready, vest packed with shotgun shells, and ice chest cleaned, I was cutting Monterey Jack cheese into small cubes, only big enough to fit into the breast of a dove. De-seeding jalapenos, careful not to rub my eye during the process. The first year I did this, I quickly learned it was important to wear gloves, because the juice ate away at the tips of my fingers until they were raw. I cut pounds and pounds of bacon into 4 inch slices, peeled garlic cloves and packed everything into tidy plastic containers that would travel to a location unknown to me.

The alarm would go off sometime between 3:30 and 4:00 am... I would make sure Anthony was awake, then stay awake long enough to wave from the garage door as he drove off with Rocky and Jake, almost in giggles... THEM, not me!!! My favorite part of opening day, was closing the garage door behind them, and knowing I would have a day of quiet to myself.

Jake was always a part of this annual adventure, and learned to look forward to it and revel in it as much as his dad. In fact, the first opening day, after Anthony had died, it warmed my heart at the number of men who called here for Jake, to be sure he was included in the event, and had a place to hunt. Even more than that, Jake insisted we get all the ingredients because HE was going to take over his dad's role as the chef. So, for Jake, I sliced bacon, cubed cheese, deseeded jalapenos, and peeled garlic. I was so proud of him.

Anthony took Jake dove hunting the first time when Jake was only 3 1/2. We didn't have any of our hunting dogs yet, so I think he was going to teach Jake to "retrieve." He told Jake to pick up the bird, carry it to the bucket, and put it into the bucket. As Jake was carrying it, he kept saying to his dad, "It wants to fly!" Anthony assured Jake the bird no longer wanted to fly, but Jake said it a couple more times. When Jake put the bird into the bucket, lo and behold, it flapped a couple of times, then fluttered it's way out of there!!! LOL I guess Anthony had only stunned it, yet Jake did as his dad instructed, even though the bird was trying to fly away from him!

Jake went out yesterday, as his own man. This year he did not join his dad's croonies. This year, Jake had his own invitation from someone who owns "good" property. Jake came over to get the shotgun out of our gun safe. This year, I did not go with Jake so he could buy his hunting license or shells. This year, Jake hunted as his own man. And, I knew not to call him last night, because he would be asleep. Exhausted from getting up at 4 am to be out in the field as the sun rose.

I hope Anthony watched his son. His "best boy" as he always called him. His man.

The Joy of Color

2009-08-31T05:54:00.000-07:00

My kitchen has recently been introduced into the 21st century. Prior to my renovations, it had been stuck in retro 80's decor. Earthy tan countertop tile and dark, seen better days, cabinets. The oven was the original cooking contraption installed in 1981, before I was the owner, and the frig was the white frig Anthony and I bought in 1988 for $500. I knew the frig was still working on good spirit, and it's days were drawing close to an end. The only thing that saved the oven was the fact that I cooked so infrequently!

So, this year, starting in January, I updated the kitchen. Not one of those $50,000 jobs you see on HGTV. I had a budget, but even better than that... I have Myles, who is extremely talented and eager to make something less costly, scream out it's best features. I know that stainless is the current trend for appliances, but in my budget research, purchasing all black appliances would save me about $500. Black it is. I bought all Kitchenaid appliances, receiving a $200 rebate for buying 3 appliances. I bought generic cabinets from Lowes, in which Myles painted within an inch of their lives, he installed nice hardware, increasing their look of value. I applied for a Lowe's credit card, put the cabinets, hardware, and paint on the card, promised to pay it off in a year at no interest, and got an additional 20%. Oh, and I selected and ordered a quartz countertop before the end of January, which came with a promotion of a free stainless steel sink. As you see, I did my financial homework.

Patience and waiting is a very good thing, especially if you have the option of waiting to make certain decisions. Everything in the kitchen has been completed, except the backsplash. Originally, I wanted glass mosaic tile. Black. Then, I entertained the thought of tin ceiling tiles, for the "POW" factor. Hmm, maybe. Then, I turned to 4x4 tiles, not sure what color. Finally, we decided on simply painting. That doesn't rule out other materials for the future, but for right now, to complete the project, painting is the way we decided to go. Plus, after living with the kitchen for a couple of months, I knew I needed some color in there. The cabinets are a vanilla cream color, the countertops a speckled cream, root beer, and black, and the fore-mentioned black appliances. Beautiful materials and products, but already boring in color.

So, yesterday, we painted. We took the color from the kitchen into one wall of the attached living room, because there was no comfortable transition line. I love the color of my living room, a warm, very comforting grey poupon gold. I selected a cajun red for the kitchen, and one wall in the living room. Yum....... it turned out gloriously warm and rich, the colors together creating an Italian warmth that is envelopes you, like the deep breast of a loving Italian mama.

I have some Italian plates, that, when placed against the walls, look absolutely gorgeous. Even though there is a lot of Italian influence in the colors and decor (thanks Nanu and Nana), the depth of the Cajun Red, reminds me of a rich, Indian spice. I now will be in search of curtains or fabric, with an Indian print. Maybe a batik look, a light fabric.

I'm patient. I'll live without until I find just what I want, and within my price.

Now... to learn to cook in this updated kitchen! I really need a decent camera, so I can post pics!

Special Surprise

2009-08-28T06:25:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is a photo I took with my cell phone. It does NOT give proper credit to the magical beauty of these cards.

I felt so honored to receive a special gift from Lindsay in the mail yesterday! I'm a hog about opening a gift. I saw the package in my mailbox, and was instantly thrilled that someone sent me something "special"... other than a camouflaged sample of fabric softener, or tickets for a free dinner along with a presentation on how to manage your money!! I looked at the return address (in typical, me! me! me! fashion) and read with all the skill as one of my third graders. I read Pasco, but my brain registered Paso... so, I wondered what my niece, Paula was sending!!

Now, Paula is a dear, and VERY generous and thoughtful, but when I saw the hints of homemade and high creativity, I started to get confused. If Paula had sent a care package of baked goods, that were homemade and made with some exotic Peruvian flour, then, yes... THAT would make sense. But, crafts and creativity? My brain was finding difficulty in making sense of this special package.

Then I got it! Bingo!! It was one of Lindsay's set of flashcards!! She'd sent a set to me?!?!?! I can't begin to express how my heart filled!!! And, I'd just come home long enough to fix a cup of coffee, relax for a bit, and get a snack, only to return out to school for our Back To School Night. Perfect!! I took the flashcards with me, and draped them over the Math Center in my classroom. I was so proud to have such a "flashy" center!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, sweet Lindsay. Today, I'm sharing the attached sentiment about learning, with all the teachers. They'll love it. You are a precious soul.

Dream Parties

2009-08-27T06:27:00.000-07:00

Apparently, I was humming tunes in my sleep last night. Myles reported this morning that a couple of times during the night, I started to hum, then I would giggle. I'm glad I was having seemingly happy dreams, because I was actually in pain all night, due to pulling or straining a muscle in my butt (or, something with a nerve). I came home from work yesterday, barely able to walk. So, in spite of being painfully restless during sleep, I was enjoying some fine times in my dreams.

I don't remember last night's dream, but I do know that I dream funny. I've awakened myself more than once, from laughing in my sleep. Deep, belly laughs! My favorite dream, that I still remember from many years ago, was one which I was walking down a beach with Huey Lewis (you know... Huey Lewis and the News). We stopped to look at this glob on the sand. He said to me, "I wonder what THAT could be?!" And I answered, "It must be the Heart of Rock and Roll." In my dream, I cracked myself up, then I woke up, still laughing at my own wittiness!!

I kill myself!! LOL I've also dreamed about meeting the King of Cartoons (from the old PeeWee Herman Playhouse Show).

I wonder if I was dreaming about a karaoke bar last night?

Weird dream

2009-08-23T08:24:00.001-07:00

Earlier this week I had a strange dream. In my dream I received a message that simply named two crystals... labradorite and lepidolite. Weird. I could hardly pronounce these names, yet in my dream, the names were very clear. I have a growing collection of crystals, and many books and websites explaining their energies, so I researched these two stones. I believe the labradorite was intended for me. Each night I ask God to make my purpose clear to me, to guide me to the next phase of my life, which I very much hope has to do with healing, helping, guiding others in some way. I feel like I have a gift, a talent, but I'm just not sure how to use it. Here is some of the information I found about labradorite:

It helps children to express their imaginations creatively.

Inspires people who feel out of touch with their gifts.

Brings creative dreams.

It eases change at work.

It shows us our real goals and intentions, so they suddenly take shape for us.

Okay, wow. Yes, I think this was a message intended for me. I then read about lepidolite, but I didn't really feel connected to it's qualities and healing attributes. It addresses help with calming and aides in sleep and restlessness. I feel pretty calm and sleeping is no issue (try spending each day with a group of 3rd graders.... sleeping is NOT an issue)

The day after this dream, my niece, Tillie, sent me an urgent text that she really needed to talk to me. Tillie is in the middle of trying to unwrap herself from a toxic relationship, and she's struggling. I tried an energy cleansing on her once, and she said it calmed her, energized her, and overall, made her feel better, and she needed me to do it again. I suggested we spend the day in Visalia, and visit the Crystal Barn, and I'd help her select some crystals to boost her energy needs. A few hours after our phone call, I returned to the information about the lepidolite, and realized, that was the stone that Tillie needed!

I researched online, trying to compose a "shopping list" for her, and I found a crystal I'd never heard of before.... Vesuvianite. The first thing I read about it was, "Very helpful in aligning the will with the heart." Bingo!! She and I needed to go on an expedition for that stone.

We really had a great day. Hallee and Brendon went with us. Brendon was really patient with this "out of the norm" excursion. Hallee was totally into it... the little Portuguese spirit she is! The Crystal Barn did not have the Vesuvianite, but they were kind enough to direct us to another place, "Gary's Jewelry and Lapidary Supplies." Very cool hole-in-the-wall place! Kind of hippy-ish, with a great selection of stones in the rough. If I ever decide to take up jewelry making, this will definitely be my spot.

My purchases:

Labradorite (rough)
2 azurite stones (rough)
1 peacock ore (rough)
1 bloodstone (polished)
1 carnelian (rough)
1 hematite ring
1 CD "Music for Reiki Attunement"

And, the best sandwich I've ever eaten (well... since the last best sandwich!) Portabello Mushroom, sauteed onions, tomato, lettuce, balsamic vinegar, and feta, on foccacia bread. SOOOO yum!!!

It was a good day.

First Week of School

2009-08-22T08:51:00.001-07:00

Well, we made it. By Friday, all of us were finding our comfort zones and true selves started to emerge. Every night, I went to bed thanking God for my life and gifts, then humbly asking to stay close and keep me patient and understanding. That can be very hard to do at times.
I asked for my angels to stay at my side all day long, and conference with my students' angels, so we can work as a team. I've also returned to this school year determined to rise above the negativities of some of the staff members. There is more to teaching than what occurs in Room 11, and when administrative demands don't mesh well with the truth of instructing a child, then stressed out teachers are created. I am taking a positive attitude with me each day, and coaching myself to "let it go" when glitches arise.

In the big picture? Kids are cute!!! Second day of school, while we were walking to class, one of my students said to me, "Mrs. Wiens, I heard you're good at teaching."

Hmmmm, so THAT'S the word on the playground, huh?? I wonder if he's holding out to form his own opinion? He should.

In fact, let me introduce you to this little guy. Of course, I will never disclose names in this forum. I've watched him since kindergarten. He's ADHD, and quite honestly, I'm not sure if he's on meds or not. Hispanic families are much more accepting of children's behavior than the general population, and they aren't eager to medicate their children. He's always wiggling, but in a dancing way. AND, he's always wiggling his tongue! It's almost like his tongue grew to adult size first, and he doesn't have appropriate housing for it! So, he's aware of it, and wiggles it. He actually is quite acrobatic with that tongue. It amuses me. I remember seeing him in line, when he was in 1st and 2nd..... always jumping, dancing, clapping, wiggling. Quite irritating at times, I'm sure, but I was drawn to his enthusiasm. He was bouncing around as if in pure joy for simply being at school! So, when we met with the 2nd grade teachers to make class lists, he was on the list of "challenges". I said, "I'll take him."

We'll do just fine.

My Playlist

2009-08-19T05:50:00.001-07:00

I don't think I can be cornered into a type of music. I rely on all styles to lift me, express my feelings, and soothe my spirit. It definitely depends on the occasion and for what reason I'm turning to the music. I can do rock, country, bluegrass, reggae, and if the truth be known... when I'm alone in the car, I sometimes listen to the Mexican radio station. I love Tejano and Latino music, except, I can't sing along. Not that I don't try.

I must say, I really love my playlist for this blog. When I was directed to Playlist.com, I found a treasure.... just about any music from my lifetime, all available for my own personalized playlist. The site allows you to build many lists, and each list can hold a ton of music (180ish songs, I think). My playlist for this blog speaks to my peaceful spirit. The music breathes calmness into me, and I love all of artists. At different times, I want to sing like each of them.

Willie Nelson... I've loved him, and I mean LOVED him, since 1976. We go way back together. He got my attention at a time when my friends and I were heavily into listening to Grand Funk Railroad, Bob Seger (ooo, I'll have to look him up on playlist), Edgar Winter, Steve Miller..... then I secretly drifted off to Willie, at a time when liking anyone remotely connected with country, would have caused me to be shunned. I take pride in believing that I've been very influencial in a number of people learning to love Willie's music through me. Someday, I'll do an entire Willie Nelson blog. He deserves it.

k.d. lang - her voice is "yum" to me. I think I have a crush.

Bonnie Raitt - She is what I would love to sound like as a blues/rocker. I love the raspy, raw edge in her voice. She really can tell the story.

Emmylou Harris - in the early 80's, I had most of her records. I listened to her a lot while I was commuting to my outdoor ed job in Springville. She has that mountain sound to her voice. Plus, she's a beauty.

CSNY - "Teach Your Children". Got this album when I was in the 8th grade, and listened to TYC plenty of times, as well as "Our House". I wondered why I couldn't harmonize with myself.... though, Cathy and I gave it a go on many of our own recorded songs. The song, Southern Cross, was one of Anthony's favorites. He introduced me to that song, and it can't listen to it without thinking of him. I love that song.

Jane Siberry - I heard this song, "Calling All Angels" on an episode of Six Feet Under. It was hauntingly beautiful. When my precious sister, Fran, died... I wanted this song played at the funeral. When I found it and really listened to the words, I was knocked over at how deeply the lyrics spoke to me and to our family at that time. We'd lost Ted, Scott, Anthony, and now Fran... all in a 2 year time. Never a more necessary time to have our angels surround us in their celestial knowledge and comfort, while we were trying to sort out emotions that were too intense and confusing for this earth.

Gillian Welch and Allison Krauss - "I'll Fly Away" If there's ever a funeral or memorial for me after I pass this world, I want this song, okay? How did I find this version?.... It's on the soundtrack from Oh Brother Where Art Thou. One of my favorite movies.

Merlin's Magic - this is my meditation music. When I sit in my invisible chair, this takes me where I want to go.

This playlist starts my day and brings me to a peaceful quiet at the end of the day. I love this music.

First Day

2009-08-18T05:38:00.000-07:00

I never sleep restfully the night before the first day of school. That's okay, because by the end of the week, I'll be exhausted and coma/sleep. It's almost a relief when my alarm finally chimes that it's time to get this day started.

Ahhhh, I instantly feel that familiar school energy as I get out of my car in the parking lot. I can hear the children. Ours is a K-8 school, so there are 5 year olds up to 14 year olds. Laughing, running, reconnecting with friends. Hmmmm, don't hear any hysterical crying from the kindergarten playground. Good sign. Girls complimenting each other's new school clothes choices. Boys looking at "summer changed" girls, awkward, wanting attention, getting it in the dumbest of ways. Little ones running in circles, like dust devils. And... when they spot their previous year's teacher!! Hugs, "I miss you!" "I want to stay with you" "Look at my new shoes!" "My cousins are going to school here! They live with us!"

Everyone is charged up. The staff lounge is not much different than the playground. The adults are wearing first day of school clothes. We eye the front desk, looking for new students. Stash lunch into the refrigerator, and make way for the classroom.

When I walk up to my classroom, I see my fresh faces waiting for me. They look so timid, but at the same time, they are waiting to enter the room to stake their claim for the year. This room is now theirs. Some of these children have never been in my room. Some only visited when they were assigned to detention. Others, came for a Friday movie day. But, starting today, this is THEIR room. Home.

They look at me with big eyes. I know what they're thinking.... "is she mean?" "Am I going to be able to handle this?" "I like her shoes." (really cute first day of school shoes. I'll have to make an attempt to post a pic.) I smile, welcome them, wave them in and direct them to "Find your desk!" They look around, happy to discover they're sitting near a friend. Pencils and binders are unpacked, as they start their settlement.

Everyone is seated, and I have 14 faces staring at me. It's quite unsettling! I know this won't last. This is the honeymoon between us. As the week progresses, we'll ease up, they will get more comfortable, and the days of walking in quietly, getting seated, and looking toward me angelically with a face waiting to learn..... well, it just won't be that easy.

How cute they are. We are going to spent 180 days together. They are going to grow, physically and academically. We are going to know each other well. I am a link in their chain. I'm not the entire chain. I need to be sure that my link is strong. Solid. No cracks.

And, they are link number 29 in my chain. I trust them to be strong.

Preparing

2009-08-15T07:59:00.000-07:00

I've been working in my classroom for the past two weeks, but I'm still going out there today, just to be sure that all is in place for Monday morning. Other teachers are much more efficient with their time than me, but I piddle. I like being in my room, alone. I turn on music, and flitter around the room. Very ADHD, but it works for me. I get many projects started at one time, and rotate from one to another, until one by one, they are completed. I know that bothers some personalities (I happen to live with one of those personalities!), people who like to complete a task before moving on to something else. But for me, I feel I'm keeping myself fresh for all of them at once. As I feel myself getting bored or frustrated, or the task is starting to feel tedious, then I move on to something else. I know I'll get back to the current task, when I'm re-energized for it.
I'm really liking how my room is looking. I've rearranged furniture a bit, to create more movement for the students. I've designed some really eye attractive learning centers, and I'm actually very excited to incorporate them in my instruction this year!
I want my students to walk in to THEIR classroom, and feel energy. The time I take to create an environment lets them know that I take this education stuff seriously and, even more importantly, I respect them and their needs. I need to balance having just enough visual stimulation for those who require that around them... with not over-doing it, for those who might feel visually overloaded. Personally, I prefer lots of visual stimulation. It charges me.
So, I will go out to my classroom today, and make sure all of my visual T's are crossed and I's are dotted. In 2 days, I will start a new school year adventure with a new group of students. I wonder what they are thinking this weekend?

School Shopping

2009-08-04T08:49:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I went to GW School Supply, which is a shopping mecca for teachers. After all these years teaching, you wouldn't think I'd need another teaching aid, language arts book, poster, calendar, or bulletin board. I probably don't. But, that's the greatest part of teaching. Each year is different. Each class has different needs and a different personality. There is always a better approach, a more appropriate approach for an individual student (hey, I just noticed the word "dual" is in individual.... isn't that an oxymoron??).

I'm getting anxious about this coming school year. The word is, I have some "challenges" awaiting me. That is normal, but somehow, teachers are always wanting a class that is "smooth"... and that is much less normal than "challenging."

This is what I love about teaching. Each year, in August, there is promise. This could be the year that a child clicks. This could be the year that a student really starts to get it. I could be super teacher this year!!!! Or, maybe not.

But, one thing for sure. Awaiting me is a group of individuals. A class that will take on its own personality, built from the individual personalities. They will each bring a bundle of life with them.... "Here's my box of life, Mrs. Wiens. I'm yours until June. Do something educational with me." And, in each box can be a mishmash of experiences.....
"I'm well loved"
"I'm over protected"
"I'm over indulged"
"My parents think I'm perfect."
"My parents expect more from me than I can deliver right now"
"I'm shy, and would rather not talk to you."
"I can't make friends very easily"
"I need a LOT of attention, and I'm willing to do ANYTHING to get it!"
"My parents are always yelling and fighting, and I can't concentrate"
"Someone has hurt me, but I can't talk about it."
"I'm hungry"
"I love learning"
"I don't want to be here"
"I can't read, and I'm embarrassed"
"I want to be number one!"

No matter what is in each box, I'm responsible for teaching each of them. I'm responsible for getting results, regardless of what each one brings in their box.

I hope I can make it a happy year. I wonder if I'll go shopping again?

Droopy

2009-08-01T23:34:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling droopy all day. I'm pretty sure I'm feeling the end of my summer vacation. June is always full of hope..... plans, lunch dates with friends I don't see often enough, projects that can be completed without the interuption of going to work, time is my own. During summer vacation, I own my time.

I want to sit by this Japanese garden. I want to read books about crystals and Journey of Souls. I want to listen to meditation music that takes me away from thought, and lets my brain travel to larger places. I want to look up from my book, come back from my mental travel, and see this place in front of me. I want to breath the air, smell the water, hear the breeze flicking the leaves. I want to feel myself being there, surrounded.

I'm not quite ready to turn myself over to the school. I need to catch my breath, before 18 third graders take ownership of me. I have 2 weeks left, but the image of summer vacation is fading before my eyes.

I'm going to sit in my invisible chair, turn on some chakra meditation music, and go on a mental drift. Maybe I'll find myself by a Japanese garden.

Today's glitter

2009-07-31T09:48:00.000-07:00

I cracked up when I saw this!!! I thought I'd created this idea! I've told my friends that I wish when people farted, that glitter, rainbows, and butterflies would scatter out from their butt. That is the world I want.

Last school year, after I read the book "If" to my students, we did our own "wonder ifs...." I shared with them, "wonder if when you farted, glitter, rainbows, and butterflies flew out? Then, instead of waving your hand and saying 'phew', you'd say, 'Oh, how pretty that was!' Can you imagine how 3rd graders responded to that idea?? We had huge giggles and laughs (I know..... the teacher shouldn't say the word "fart", but, come on, it's a funny word!!!)

Plans change/historic decisions

2009-07-29T18:43:00.000-07:00

1980....

In 1980 I was working in the Santa Cruz Mts. I was a naturalist for an Outdoor Ed. School. I loved it. My days were spent outside, from 8 am to 10 pm. I took 6th graders on hikes, teaching about the redwood forest, the chaparral, the stream, nature in general. I held creatures that children handed to me. I licked the slime on banana slugs (why? because that is what naturalists did). I pointed out wood rats (nicknamed "pack rats". very cute if not indoors). I caught newts, and showed them to my students. I had a talent for finding trapdoor spiders. I taught about the night sky, and I was able to point out a number of constellations. I lived in and with nature.

I loved this job, but it wasn't a year-round position. I felt guilty because my dear daddy had completely funded my college education. I had a BA from Cal Poly and a teaching credential, but I was not making much money. Certainly not enough to support myself. I lived at the camp. I worked from January to May 1979, then I went back to San Luis Obispo to complete my credential, and returned for another season in Santa Cruz. In May of 1980 I knew I had to find a teaching job. It was time to "get serious."

No one put any pressure on me. My parents never asked "When are you going to get a real job?" I put the pressure on myself. But, secretly, I was very frightened to enter the adult world of full time employment. A career!!!! I had the documents that claimed I was capable. The state of California deemed me worthy of teaching children. I was qualified!

I drove home from Santa Cruz at the end of May. I was going to stay in Lemoore for a week or two, then try to get a job in Visalia and live with my friend, Roberta. Easy, plans for fun, and it seemed right, since I'd lived with Barbara while going to COS, then lived with Gail during our Cal Poly years... so, it was Roberta/Gina time! I didn't have a concrete long-term plan, but this would definitely do for the time being.

Plans change.
Within a week of my return, disaster struck. My dear daddy had been diagnosed with brain cancer the previous November. He'd had surgery and they'd removed the tumor. Later, I was to be reminded that I had been sitting in the hospital waiting room, with my mom and siblings, when the doctor said the tumor was malignant, and would likely grow back. My brain did not, would not, hear that. I think my brain only processed that he made it through surgery, blah, blah, blah. Now, the tumor had returned. He'd just had a clear check up 3 months prior, but it was back..... growing quickly and growing large. Plans changed. I stayed in Lemoore that summer. I was not prepared, nor mature enough to handle this dark cloud of death. I selfishly avoided the issue as much as I could. On August 16, 1980, my dad died.

What I'm getting at is this... at the age of 23, I made some decisions that plotted the course of my life! Plans changed. I was devastated, scared, and empty. Within 3 weeks of my dad's death, I came down with mono and hepatitis A (from working with the feces of gypsy moths during that summer.... another story). I was so sick, very sick for 3 to 4 weeks, then another 2 weeks bouncing back.

My course changed in 1980.

*Instead of remaining open to working almost anywhere in the state, I wanted to stay close to home. (historic decision)

*I was offered a 2nd grade teaching job at Island Elementary School in Lemoore. Great little school. After some thought, I turned it down. I did not feel I had the emotional strength to do a good job as a classroom teacher. Not yet. (historic decision)

*I got another naturalist job. This time in the foothills above Springville. I taught the Bird Study. Loved it there. A totally different experience than my Santa Cruz job.

*There were different boys/men during this time. Still working at unwrapping myself from Gary (that too, is another story), meeting some new people, having pseudo-fun. Really a transition time, now that I look back.

*In May of 1981, I decided, again, to try to get serious about a classroom teaching job.

*I was hired to work at YMCA Camp in Sequoia Park. I decided not to do this. (historic decision)

*I got a job as a waitress in a new restaurant/bar in Hanford called "The Bastille" (historic decision)

Because of these decisions....

*I met Anthony while working at The Bastille.

*By turning down a job with Island School, I was hired, a year later, to teach 4th grade at Stratford School.

*I am still living in Lemoore.

I was 23 at the time I was making these youthful decisions. I don't remember struggling much with them. I just followed the flow of the river. I had no idea that I was being led to "my life"..... I was led to lifelong committments, a lifelong path, a plan that would color who I am.

2009-07-29T08:11:00.000-07:00

Guess who has been experimenting with blog backgrounds?!?! I stayed up late last night, searching backgrounds and cutsie additions for blogs. Be patient with me while I play with color and designs. In the end, I'll probably have a very subtle, earthy blog page.... but, I want to try on a lot of colors before I commit.

Yesterday I had my eyelid surgery. I was feeling pangs of vanity guilt about an elective procedure that would take a few years (or maybe just months!) off of my overall appearance. I'm not very swollen............ Myles is diligent about reminding me to "ice up, Pookie". I'm happy to report that I'm already experiencing an improvement in vision! I know that insurance covered this procedure for that reason, but I really didn't expect a clearer range of periferal vision. I wanted to look less tired. I'm realizing that those drooping eyelids were truly interferring with some vision! A serendipity.

The surgery was really easy. The anesthesiologist told me that the most discomfort I'd experience was the insertion of the IV needle. He was right! He put me into a deep sedation, that lasted just a short time... long enough for the doctor to use needles to numb the area around my eyes. Thank you, modern medicine!!! Good meds for sure! I woke up during the procedure, and chit chatted with the doctor, while she stitched up my eyelids. Only the best drugs can make you THAT relaxed.

I won't post pictures, but I'll tell you, I look like Cleopatra, if she was drunk while applying her eye make up. Heavy blue/red/purple eyeliner and shadow, that extends out past the eyebrow line. This would have been great if I'd done it around Halloween. My students would have loved it! I look all creepy and beat up.