chock-a-blog

wotd: titubation

2011-10-10T16:28:00.005-07:00

titubation \tich-oo-bey-shuhn\, noun:: 1. A disturbance of body equilibrium in standing or walking, resulting in an uncertain gait and trembling.

I feel a great titubation in The Force, as of a massive shifting of tangential inparticulate matter. My Universe has come unhinged, affecting me in a hugely vague, antiperspicuous manner. Today's most oft-muttered word is "Geh." The fuck?

Something big is fixin' to happen. I'm not sleeping well. I have no appetite. I feel like my blood is carbonated, fizzing through my body with a strangely electric charge. I'm envigorated---maybe even manic?---full of potential.

Realize.

40 observations on the eve before my 40th birthday

2011-09-12T16:55:00.012-07:00

Indulge me! In no particular order:

1. I love making pinatas. I've made a pinata for Jack's birthday for the last five years. The Death Star, a jellyfish from Spongebob, Patrick Star from Spongebob, Plankton from Spongebob, and just this year King Pig from Angry Birds. I've been commissioned by a friend to produce another Angry Birds Pig pinata for her son's birthday. I'm gonna do it.

2. Right now three of my ten fingers hurt when I type. I don't bite my nails (unless one is already broken) but I do pick and pull at my cuticles. I've developed acute paronychia, a bacterial infection, at those three finger tips. The one that hurts the most is my right thumb. Space bar hell. I've done this to myself since childhood. When I'm pulling and nipping at a hangnail, I know it's going to hurt but I go ahead and do it anyway.

3. I consider myself substantial: in body and in mind. I am robust. I have zeal. I just don't have any confidence.

4. My brain stops working after 8:00 pm. If there's productive work to be done, I better be sure to get it done in the morning. I didn't do that today. Now I'm struggling.

5. I want to sing and accompany myself on an instrument: piano, guitar, or autoharp. I never learned how to play music that way. I learned to read staff and interpret dynamics woodenly. Sometimes on the way to school I sing whatever I want with the windows down. Today I sang White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes. (I was following the pack / all swallowed in their coats / with scarves of red tied round their throats...)

6. Religious iconography calls me. I have a collection of Jesus and Mary, with a special bent toward the Sacred Heart and the Virgin of Guadalupe. I'm also drawn to crosses and religious candles. If I get creative this afternoon I'll post pictures of my collections.

7. Clutter intrigues me but I want to live austerely. My favorite thrift stores are the ones with jumbled back rooms or yards. You never know what treasures you might find there! But I don't want to drag too many treasures home: my dream is to one day have enough space or paucity of belongings to keep one room entirely empty.

8. It's ridiculous how much I love commuting by bicycle. Now that I live in a more bike-friendly part of town and Jack is sometimes with DH, I ride the 7.4 miles to work. I'm gradually outfitting my bike to make this commute friendlier: I've now got lights if it's dark but I'm hoping to outfit myself with panniers so I don't have to carry a backpack, which severely inhibits the wind's ability to dry the sweat generated on an afternoon ride home in August, when the mercury levels out at 108 degrees.

9. I haven't yet abandoned my childhood desire to become a writer but I admit the desire fades over time. Sadly writing has become one of those things I should do. I feel better balanced when I write but taking the time to do so is not priority for me.

10. A triad of ginger kitties sprawls on my living room floor. Kismet, Thor, and Chestnut lie on their sides with their front paws toward the middle of a triangle formed by the points of their back paws. It didn't last long, because the boys are still playful, but it was worth noting while it lasted.

11. Today while sitting in the drive thru at McDonald's procuring a snack for Jack (a reward because he ate a stalk of celery, a carrot, and a radish. I know. So inappropriate) a woman walked by the car on the sidewalk beside us. She peered in through Jack's window. I looked levelly at her, a bit curious, as I jawed my own stalk of celery. She looked somewhat careworn and bedraggled. I did not expect her to say to me, "Yep. Just like a cow chewing her cud." After uttering this observation she took a massive pull on her fountain soda and walked along. In my past I would have been devastated by such a comment, but today I realized it had less to do with me and everything to do with her and her place in this world.

12. When I talk too much the sound of my own voice makes me feel imperious. So I shut up. I've learned to just not talk as much as I once did, unless I'm with my family and close friends. They know me as I'd wish them to.

13. I don't wear makeup and haven't for a long time. I just don't see the point in covering up or enhancing what I've got. It is what it is. Last time I was at Noggins for a haircut, I told Shelley what I envisioned for my hair: "Something totally easy, wash and go. You know me. I don't want to mess with my hair. I don't even wear makeup." Shelley's in her mid twenties and cute as anything. In response she said, "Honey, did you wear makeup when you were younger?" That cracked me up. "Sometimes," I said. "But it doesn't really matter."

14. I bought an oak computer desk at Miracle Center for $10 and carried it from the car to my apartment all by myself. I am freakishly strong.

15. If I could have a superpower it would be teleportation. Then it wouldn't matter where you lived, I could come over for dinner or pop in for drinks and a round of Catchphrase or attend the Fleet Foxes/Bon Iver concert in Phoenix on Thursday without having to factor in the 4 hour round trip. I could go to estate auctions in the Midwest, run on the beach every morning, travel anywhere. It would really rock if I could share my superpower just by holding your hand.

16. If I could have any job in the world, I would hire on as a reader with Recorded Books.

17. I can't sleep without taking a shower before bed.

18. Self-reflection is not my forte. I'm better at self-criticism. Let's try a question prompting self-reflection, chosen at random: What are my top 3 goals for the next 3 years? Well, that's not too hard. 1) Survive bankruptcy. 2) Survive divorce. 3) Establish a sustainable budget on my current income. OK. Let's try another, harder one: If you had to describe yourself as a child in one word, what would it be? Seriously, how do you answer a question like that? I guess I'd say compliant.

19. Jack doesn't eat fruits and vegetables and I feel it's totally my fault. I've never forced good food choices on him, and in an effort to make sure he eats I go ahead and let him eat all the garbage he wants. It's why he's an enormous child. I didn't buy organic and he drank BGH milk.

20. I can't just sit and watch a movie. I always have to be doing something else, like knitting, crocheting, or some other crafting. I love movies but feel guilty about it. When I think of how much we pay actors per film and how much we pay teachers per child, I'm horrified that I watch movies at all.

21. I drink water from the tap, sometimes hot. It tastes fine to me.

22. Forty observations is a lot to come up with.

23. When I browse a magazine or catalog I just turn the pages and barely see anything on the pages. I like to think my brain will zoom in on something of interest to it, but really I realize I'm just zoning out. It's like channel surfing magazine pages. It's a good thing I don't subscribe to any magazines and I don't get any catalogs. What magazines I do surf come from the free magazine exchange at church.

24. I don't read comic books. My brain can't integrate the action in the illustrations with the printed words. I believe its a higher brain function I haven't yet honed. Same goes for watching subtitled foreign films: I can't attend to both stimuli at the same time.

25. Can't trust myself around a bag of Cheetos, crunchy or puff. Typically I steer clear of fake food, but Cheetos and nondairy powdered creamer are two exceptions.

26. I hope to make an effort to invite more people into my home. Right now I'm severely limited spatially but hope to move to a 2 bedroom apartment in January. I'd like to host a monthly Stitch-n-Bitch and I'd like to have people over to play games or watch movies. It would be particularly nice to have a certain someone over to watch a movie in quiet companionship.

27. I used to be uncomfortable in my birthday suit, even when I was alone. Now on occasions when I'm by myself for a whole night in a tiny apartment (with window coverings) I find I take my time getting dressed after my evening shower.

28. My sister and I are really twins who were born 4 years apart. We don't vocalize in Twinspeak but we definitely know each other's thoughts. I love that.

29. I dream of living in a compound shared with my parents and my sister's family. We'd share responsibility for the children and, sadly, drive my dad crazy. We crave closeness with him but it's not in his nature.

30. The little girls at school wear tutus and sparkly cat t-shirts with knee socks and cowboy boots. I want to dress like that. But I'm 40 now.

31. The poetry of Stephen Crane intrigues me, especially

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

32. I've vowed to live more in my right mind. The right hemisphere of your brain is responsible for your in-the-moment consciousness, while your left hemisphere keeps up a constant chatter of chronology that anchors you in your timeline, thinking of past and future. I suspect my left brain doesn't work all that well because I don't have a very good memory for things that have happened, and I often struggle to articulate my dreams. So I like to think that I live mostly in my right mind anyway.

33. Using up a jar, bottle, or package of something gives me a little thrill. I like to be finished with something. This does not apply to projects. I find it much easier to start a project than to finish one.

34. In the past I've thought I prefer my solitude to the company of others, but more recently I discover that's not true. Yesterday I was running a little late to an evening appointment but on my way to the car I passed my neighbor on the end. I stopped to chat with him and his wife and I'm glad I did. They're from one of the Carolinas and I could listen to them talk forever. He's in chemo. They complimented me on Jack's comportment and told me they're flying home to see their grandbaby early next year. I admire Paul's attitude in the face of cancer. He's gracious and grateful and positive. Talking with them boosted my perspective immeasurably.

35. It's past my birthday so I didn't get this done in time but I don't think it matters because I intend to finish it anyway. I spent Saturday celebrating my birthday with women (and a man or two) who really fuel me with good energy. I had 27 people join me at Son's for my birthday lunch. It's like a switch has flipped and three days over 40 I feel more confident and comfortable in my skin. Let's see how long that lasts.

36. I'm learning to view men as humans, just like women except for a teenyweenie difference. See, for the previous 40 years I assumed all men were more like my dad. I'm beginning to realize that my dad is a human classification all his own. Really, each of us is a classification all our own but by and large men are more like women than I've acknowledged. For many years I've felt uncomfortable around men, unable to converse freely, assuming men need women only for cooking, cleaning, and fucking. I'm learning that men need women because women are valuable humans, too.

37. I thought I'd be ready to run that half marathon on November 6 but now that it's less than a month away I'm facing the reality that I will not be ready to run it. I'll be ready to walk/run it.

38. I'm more than ready for the bankruptcy and divorce to be over. We have an appointment with the bankruptcy attorney next week; we'll be filing by the end of October. I should be free and clear by this time next year. I haven't stopped living my life but the B&D follow me around like my own personal storm cloud.

39. I don't get out enough. I went to a 40th birthday party with costumes and dancing and it was a lot of fun. I want to do that again.

40. Most of the time I love to be on my own, but last night when J stayed with D but I was expecting him to stay with me, I got lonely and I couldn't sleep.

J Brought Me a Present

2011-08-10T20:19:00.003-07:00

from a Goodwill excursion with Mama D

He knows my tastes well. It's a Jesus Christ action figure. I like how Princess Peach mimics his pose.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 12 Questions

2011-07-25T06:42:00.001-07:00

Chapter 12: Conclusion

1. What action can you take in the next 48 hours to put you on the path for what you want to accomplish? I can eat well, sleep well, and smile. I can trust that God has a plan for my life and in due time that plan will become known to me. This year I have already made massive progress toward what I want to accomplish: independence of finance, body, and spirit.

2. What idea have you gotten while on the beach or mowing your yard that could be worth more than a lifetime of hard work? I don't get ideas so much as delightful turns of phrase. Now, if only I could discipline myself enough to sit down and create a narrative around the perfection of those words I'd be on my way to writing an eloquent work of fiction. (Or maybe I'll start that housesitting/petsitting business I thought of once when a friend asked if I knew anyone willing to stay at her wonderful Sam Hughes house for two weeks while she and her partner vacationed in Italy. If I could line up enough gigs I wouldn't even have to pay rent!)

3. Are you a creation of circumstances or a creator of circumstances? I'm a little bit of both, and I believe we all are. If you plant yourself too firmly in one camp you can't cope in the other.

4. What seeds did you plant in your mind 5 years ago that brought you to where you are today? The seeds in my mind lay dormant under a thin scale of ice for years and years. Several people have quoted Anais Nin to me as I weather these self-inflicted transitions: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." This B&D (bankruptcy and divorce) is the first step on a long road toward a life I love, not just work I love.

Do not look at circumstances or past history with regret, but simply learn from them as you create a clear plan for the future. Everyone has events that have helped to make us what and where we are. You simply must look at where you are and then create a clear plan for the future you want. That process of seeing 5 years out and clarifying what you want that to be will immediately begin to lessen the uncertainty about any current situation.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 11 Questions

2011-07-23T06:26:00.003-07:00

Chapter 11: Skunks, Rags, and Candy Bars

1. Who has launched a successful business after being fired at a previous job? I don't know if he got fired, but Jack's Uncle Mike started a little business called NetMedic, which initially involved troubleshooting networking and other tech problems, but has grown to a major information exchange competitor in Chicagoland. Mike's company now handles all the networking for The Museum of Science and Industry (or is it the Natural History Museum? Like it matters. One of the well-known bastions of intellect, which I obviously am not). DH got fired from a job, too, but I wouldn't say he launched a successful business.

2. What unique skills do you have that may be the basis for a creative business (writing, drawing, building, analyzing, singing, driving, thinking, etc.)? I have several unique skills, it's just that none of them are well-developed nor do I have the confidence to apply them. I'm a good writer; I'm dependable. I'm great with kids. I'm great with difficult kids. I love to read aloud. What do I do with skills like that? Oh yeah! I teach preschool!

3. Do you have any ideas that would fall into the “peacemakers, storytellers, and healers” category? To quote Nathan Arizona, "That's your whole God-damn raison d'etre, ain't it?" It's what I do best: mediate disputes between four-year-olds, read a good story in an engaging fashion, and apply bandaids to owies. And I've proved I can do it on my own. Maybe I'm meant to start my own in-home care (Auntie M, you ready to make those kid-friendly bento box lunches?). Or follow Bev Bos and Lisa Murphy's leads and speak to other educators, bringing them back 'round to the values I believe we've abandoned in early childhood. Or maybe I need to sit for ideas and figure out how I can apply these skills in a different venue.

4. Can you think of an idea that would create SWISS dollars for you? SWISS dollars = Sales While I Sleep Soundly. Well, if I ever got around to restocking my etsy shop, I might earn a meager few.

5. Do you ever give yourself time to “sit for ideas”? I don't sit. I'm most uncomfortable when I sit. But I do give myself time to jog for ideas, or hike for ideas, or bike for ideas. My brain processes best when my body is engaged. Problem is, I don't ever record any of these ideas, so they don't often earn me more than a few moments' pretty diversion.

6. “Take delight in the LORD, and He will give you your heart’s desires” (Ps. 37:4). How does this apply to being content in a job you hate? Mom commented once that every task is equal in the eyes of the Lord, and she remembers that when she's wiping down the countertops for the nth time. Martin Luther King, Jr., has uttered a similar quote: "If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.” Recognize opportunity, but don't shun the work you have because it makes you unhappy.

7. How does your culture, environment, and experience perhaps limit your being able to see new opportunities? Many aspects of my life conspire right now to limit by ability to see new opportunities. I'm doing the best I can, with a pending bankruptcy and divorce. I've made a lateral move from one workplace to another, hoping the new environment will rekindle the passion I have for teaching children. That's about as much job change as I can muster while weathering these other life changes. I think you all understand. I think God does, too.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 10 Questions

2011-07-20T09:41:00.003-07:00

Chapter 10: Do You Have What It Takes?
1. What do you think of the word entrepreneur? "If you are a typical candidate for self-employment, you may never have been clear on what you wanted to do when you grew up." (p. 150) I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. And the word entrepreneur strikes a chord of fear deep in my heart. What if I failed? (The only time I visited San Francisco I had a sudden vision of myself as a bicycle courier there. I'd live in a tiny gabled upstairs apartment and I'd ride like a maniac over those hilly streets day in and day out, delivering documents, tissue samples, money orders. At night I would collapse on a mattress on the floor and spend the evening reading by candlelight until I drifted into oblivion. I think I interpret entrepreneur through the lens of solitude.)

2. Do you have what it takes to be on your own? Yes. But I'm mortally afraid of trusting myself with conjuring my own paycheck.

3. Are you an “accidental” entrepreneur? Am I? I may have been. The summer I didn't have employment at the preschool I cared for children in my own home and earned more money than I would have had I worked at the preschool, plus I got to do household chores while the children played, leaving my off hours completely free for myself. When craft show season rolls around I make a tidy little profit selling my bottle cap creations. I could earn extra income that way but couldn't support myself and Jack.

4. What service or product could you promote? Childcare. Upcycled bottle caps.

5. What invention could you develop? Ha. That's a good one. Not an inventive bone in my body. Ask Brock.

6. What are 3 or 4 ideas you have had over the years that you have on the back burner or have since seen someone else develop? None. I don't have ideas like that. I subscribe to the adage uttered by my jaded old boss at Omegatype: "There is nothing new under the sun."

7. Describe 3 or 4 times in your own work experience when you have been paid on results or on completion of the job rather than just for putting in your time. None. Not a one. Unless you count the bottle cap stuff.

8. What would prevent you from doing something on your own? My own misgivings. Big hurdle there.

9. Is it exciting or frightening to think about being your own boss? Frightening! (but maybe a teensy bit exciting too)

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 9 Questions

2011-07-14T06:56:00.000-07:00

Chapter 9: Show Me the Money

1. Is negotiating on price uncomfortable for you? Describe 3 things for which you negotiated the purchase price. Extremely uncomfortable. I've rarely negotiated price, except to accept less than I wanted to sell something at a garage sale. I don't like to make a fuss. Negotiating price feels like making a fuss to me. Miller asserts: "But realize that negotiating salary is not a confrontational process and certainly not a win/lose proposition."

2. Have you negotiated your income in the past? Since graduating from college I've only had two "real" jobs: the first I started as an entry-level trainee, for which I did not negotiate salary because I had no background in desktop publishing and I was fresh out of college, working at a coffee shop (I loved that work but felt victimized by the predominating Old Boys' Network; passed over for management in favor of a less qualified young man). During my decade-long career I rose from entry-level trainee to satellite office manager and commanded a salary I never negotiated and for which I never felt worthy. When I left that job to work at the preschool my son attended, I started as a substitute teacher at minimum wage, within three years gaining a position as a lead teacher with subsequent salary increase, which I did not negotiate. In fact, I didn't want to be lead teacher. I just accepted what they paid me.
My current work as an early childhood educator garners woeful compensation and meager prestige. But I like it. When it became apparent that my abilities fit well with the philosophy at SSCS, the directors there quoted me a salary range. When I told them there was no way I could work at the lower end, they looked over their budget and managed to find ways to pay me at the upper end. I don't feel like this was negotiating, but maybe it was. It was simple fact. I couldn't manage to pay rent, utilities, and buy food if I didn't earn a wage at the upper end of the spectrum they quoted me. And they wanted me bad enough to figure out a way to do it. I hope I don't let them down.

3. Do you realize that in changing companies you may be able to increase your income by 40 to 50 percent though that is unlikely to happen while moving up in one company? Makes sense, sometimes. Much of what Miller talks about seems to apply to work that's related to a product, a specified outcome. The work I've currently chosen is more of a service. I work for a not-for-profit preschool. My wage is paid by children's tuition and fundraising. Ugh.

4. What are the guidelines for how much is reasonable? What is fair? Is it always reasonable to ask for more?
Prickly question. Employers want to pay the lowest amount possible, while employees want to make the highest amount possible. And I want to please my employer, but I want to make as much as possible. Miller elaborates that compensation isn't always monetary: perhaps your employer pays the lease on your brand new BMW or offers childcare, life insurance, gym membership, etc. One of the perks of my current job is free pizza on Friday; one of the perks of my new job is free twice-monthly yoga. Guidelines on "how much is reasonable? Fair? More?" I don't know.

5. Read Matthew 20:1–15. How does this parable fit what you’ve learned?

1 “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. 2 He agreed to pay them a denarius[a] for the day and sent them into his vineyard.
3 “About nine in the morning he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace doing nothing. 4 He told them, ‘You also go and work in my vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ 5 So they went.

“He went out again about noon and about three in the afternoon and did the same thing. 6 About five in the afternoon he went out and found still others standing around. He asked them, ‘Why have you been standing here all day long doing nothing?’

7 “‘Because no one has hired us,’ they answered.

“He said to them, ‘You also go and work in my vineyard.’

8 “When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the workers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first.’

9 “The workers who were hired about five in the afternoon came and each received a denarius. 10 So when those came who were hired first, they expected to receive more. But each one of them also received a denarius. 11 When they received it, they began to grumble against the landowner. 12 ‘These who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’

13 “But he answered one of them, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? 14 Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you. 15 Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?’

I'm too tired to think of this. Maybe later.

6. What would you do if you tripled your current income? What could you offer that would merit that? I'd quit working. I'd write stories for myself. I'd make bottle cap crafts and knit all the time. I'd play with the kids when I wanted to and quit when I felt like it.

healed

2011-07-12T22:07:00.005-07:00

I'm straddling a big fallen power pole on the playground at my new school. Dr. A is ministering to me with a questionable surgical implement. Dr. G approaches, a white plastic lace in his hands, the kind you make boondoggle keychains with. While Dr. A performs another procedure on my person, Dr. G tenderly winds that plastic lace around my neck.

"This is the Cord of Major Confidence." His bedside manner is impeccable. He gazes at me with sky blue eyes. We breathe in, breathe out.

He releases me.

"There," he says. "You've got your confidence back."

Thank you.

plumb tuckered

2011-07-10T00:16:00.002-07:00

two things I've realized lately:

1) All those goals and dreams they talk about? that shit ain't so tough. I'm always thinking I need to advocate for starving children in Chad or aspire to the presidency or somesuch, but the shit they're talking about is easy. So my goal? Move to a neighborhood where there are kids for Jack to play with. My dream? A trip to the beach.

2) I like being with people. For the duration of my marriage I had to suppress this inclination for two reasons. The people DH wanted me to hang out with weren't my kind of people, and because I was there with DH I had to wait until he was ready to go (or plead, or fall asleep at the shindig). And I had to suppress myself, because that's what I did with DH, and if I couldn't be myself with my husband, then I certainly couldn't be myself with others. I spent all day away from home, first at my sisters (where BIL and I had an enlightening conversation about their proposed move) and then with longtime friends I haven't seen in awhile.

It's been an all-around good day. Now I'm plumb tuckered.

lessons learned

2011-07-06T22:44:00.002-07:00

These past two days have been tough ones. Jack's in Illinois (Iowa by now). I'm going to orientation at my new job in the mornings and working my old job in the afternoons, exposing myself to some role conflict. But overall, I'm feeling relatively healthy. Like I'm coping.

It's a good thing, too, because I got called to the office at my old job this afternoon.

My boss asked me, "Do you keep a blog other than the one you keep for school?"

I went all prickly and hot.

"Yes," I said.

She directed my attention to the computer monitor behind her, where my latest two chockablog entries were posted on the school blog.

She asked if I'd done that intentionally, which of course I hadn't. I remedied the situation and breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing too incriminating in those two posts. I'm sure she read them. Wouldn't you?

rallying

2011-07-06T14:36:00.001-07:00

The past few days have been better. I think the increased meds are working. I've paid more attention to nourishing my body with foods that are good for me, and I've been exercising regularly. I don't feel so bereft. I know the road I walk is a bumpy one and sometimes I gotta slog through some mud puddles to get to firmer ground. Thanks for all your encouragement, my family and friends. You mean a lot to me.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 8 Questions

2011-07-06T14:35:00.002-07:00

Chapter 8: Do They Like Me? Do I Like Them?

1. Can you clearly and easily describe your strongest areas of competence? well.... that seems like such an open-ended question. I've never been asked that in an interview. I can tailor my response to fit a more specific question. "You should be intimately familiar with your (1) skills and abilities, (2) personality tendencies, and (3) values, dreams, and passions." I'm a pleaser: I'm good at customer-service oriented jobs. I'm pretty good at smoothing ruffled feathers. I've got all those cliched skills: I'm detail-oriented, enthusiastic, dedicated, punctual. I write well. I'm organized. I know my way around a computer. I prefer honesty and integrity, in myself and others. Open communication. Personally I tend away from leadership; being a people-pleaser makes me a bad manager. Dreams and passions? I've suppressed them for so long I'm not sure they still exist.

2. Does knowing that interviewing means “to see about each other” make it more comfortable to ask for information about the company and the position? Interviewing doesn't scare me. I present myself well in an interview. In fact, I rather like interviewing. I just don't often get the opportunity to do it because once I have a job I tend to stay there for five or more years.

3. Are you aware of any personal habits or annoying filler words that may be part of your personal presentation? I make an awesome first impression.

4. Is your level of enthusiasm contagious? Yes. And I feel best when I'm enthusiastic, even about something I dislike doing. If I can access my enthusiasm (and sometimes I just can't) I always feel better about myself.

5. What are some unusual questions you know of that have been asked of you or others in an interviewing situation? (You only have to pull out 3 socks to be guaranteed a match. And there’s really no accurate way to know how many barbers there are in Chicago. It’s just one of those questions designed to see how you approach a difficult task.) The few interviews I've had have been run-of-the-mill. Others might think it strange to be asked, "What do you do if one child bites another?" but I don't. (BTW, after I answered that question as honestly as I could in my interview at Second Street, one interviewer looked at the other and said, "That's the best answer to that question that I've ever heard.")

6. How can you be humble and godly and still show confidence? I'm having difficulty answering this question. You can confidence in yourself and one way I think you do so humbly is by not comparing yourself to others. Let your merits stand on their own and state them simply and matter-of-factly.

7. Would you ever take a position even if you knew it was not a good fit for you? Second semester freshman year of college I took a position as a telemarketer for the U of I, calling alumni and asking for donations. I was ill-matched to this job but I could walk there and the hours fit my schedule and I thought it was one of the few things I could do. I hated it and I was no good at it. I lasted about 2 months of misery. Now I'd be hard pressed even to apply for a position that wasn't a good fit. I would do whatever I had to to support myself and my child, but I would accept an ill-fitted position only if all other avenues were exhausted.

tumult

2011-07-04T12:36:00.001-07:00

(Currently I'm listening to an audiobook recording of Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte uses the word "tumult" often, much as Jesus is quoted by Matthew as saying "truly I tell you".)

Truly I tell you, much has transpired over the course of the past four days. I am but a twig on the shoulders of a mighty river.

Thursday

I awoke at 3:48 am to the sound of rushing outside. I thought a strong wind was blowing, but when I peaked through the blinds I saw torrential rain falling. We hadn't had rain in something like 83 days. Mother Nature's tempest took me totally by surprise in portentous fashion. In just 45 minutes I would leave the house to pick up my estranged husband so I could drop him off at the airport with my son for a 12 day trip to the Midwest. I'd never before been separated from Jack for so long. Wednesday night I eased him through a solid half hour of crying big big tears, wailing that he wants me to go with them, he doesn't want to leave me, please can I come, please can he stay. It took every bit of my considerable will to soothe him without sobbing myself.

So I woke him, and dressed him smartly, and bundled him through the downpour to the car. We picked up DH, drove to the airport, and they immediately boarded their flight to Chicago on standby status.

And just like that I sat at Starbucks alone. Went home and took a nap. Learned through a colleague's shifty facebook wall post to the preschool director that I could expect the long-anticipated NAEYC reaccreditation visit on Friday. There were some rumblings at work but no sense detailing them here. I'm almost done there.

Friday

Rode my bike to work, where the NAEYC accreditor's visit had the teachers' full attention, and the kids were running wild. The afternoon was excruciating, but mercifully all children were picked up before 5:00 and I was able to go for a bike ride before meeting Mom and Mandy's family at Red Lobster for dinner.

Locked my keys in my car but managed to enjoy dinner anyway.

Mom drove me home to get the valet key I have now tucked into my wallet as an effort to safeguard against locking my keys in my car again. She stayed in the car while I retrieved my key. She'd been talking to Dad on her cell when I got back to the car. "So," she said. "Are you moving to Illinois with your sister?"

"I don't know. Is she moving?" I'd heard talk, but nothing definite.

Mom told me what my brother-in-law had recounted to her before dinner. Before I got there. Sounded way more definite than any talk I'd heard before.

If my sister moves away, there will be a giant black hole in my universe. It will take all of my considerable will to keep from getting sucked into its depths of darkness.

I'm simply devastated by this revelation and haven't been able to talk about it with my sister. I can't move. Not with a new job starting Tuesday, a pending bankruptcy, a pending divorce, a lease until January. My entire support network in Tucson. My mom just 100 miles away.

I cried. A lot. Pretty much cried myself into a stupor. Then I went to bed and got up the next morning.

Saturday

Mom went with me to pick up my Bountiful Basket early in the morning. We had breakfast at my favorite: Son's Bakery and Cafe. We shopped at Grocery Outlet. Went back to the apartment. Picked up my sister, leaving my BIL with the boys and keys to my apartment. Did some thrifting, ate some sushi. Carefully avoided any conversation about The Move. More thrifting, a bead store, Safeway, Starbucks. Swimming. Dinner. Then it was time for everyone to go.

And I found myself alone, again.

Most of the time, that's OK. But in my current fragile state, I had sense enough to realize that it wasn't OK now. So I went to bed.

Sunday

Rode my bike to church. Sang in the summer choir. After church, rode to Barnes & Noble, where I spent an end-of-the-year teacher gift card on Moleskines and drawing pencils. Sat at the cafe there and filled out my paperwork for Second Street and wrote in my journal. Stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home for salad ingredients. stopped at Sabino Cycles to ask for a shifter adjustment. They were very nice there. Spent the afternoon/evening at my friend Karen's house for a BBQ. Barely spent an hour all by myself.

Monday

I started the day walking around the park with Ana, talking about her recent backpack trip to Zion and her pending trip to visit her sisters in Oregon. We talked and talked and I needed that badly. Afterwards I cooled off in the pool (because it's already hot and humid today because of last night's rain) then sat poolside with fruit, coffee, and a book. I've been messing around for the last three hours and realize I need to get out again.

Going to my sister's so we can talk.

And cry.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 7 Questions

2011-06-29T06:25:00.002-07:00

Chapter 7: Finding Your Unique Path

1. Are some job markets more secure than others? "Keep in mind the transition we have had from 'production work' to 'knowledge work'." I'm glad Miller put this into words. Sometimes it seems to me it would be so much easier to go to work on a factory line, put in your 8 hours a day, and go home. I go to work at the preschool, put in my 6.5 hours, go home, and think about the preschool while I'm home. I lesson plan; I screen story books; I brainstorm ways to help one kid enter into play while simultaneously brainstorming ways to redirect another child's too-active play. My job is emotionally exhausting. Miller writes, "[As a knowledge worker] your tools of the trade are largely between your two ears." As an early childhood educator, my tools are also in my heart. Miller goes on: "Thus your skills are much more transferable than those of production workers." My skills transferable? I'll have to think on that one some more. None of this goes to answer the question, however. Are some job markets more secure than others? At this time in our economic history, I don't think any job market is secure. There.

2. What are the best places to look for new opportunities in today’s workplace? Well, I got my new job by applying to an ad on Craigslist, but Miller claims that "Fewer than 1 percent of job seekers actually get a position from responding to an Internet ad." Other ways to not get a position include answering an ad in the paper, using a headhunter, and answering an ad in a trade journal. I'm applying for a second job at Bookman's. I marched in there one day with my peeps and asked at the trade desk who's responsible for hiring. The nice clerk gave me an application and told me to have fun with my cover letter. I'll show you when I'm done.

3. What are the biggest mistakes you’ve made in the past in looking for new positions? Not looking. Staying too long in a position that long ago lost its appeal and utility.

4. How do you feel about “promoting” yourself? Very hard for me to do. We're not supposed to toot our own horns. Identifying strengths feels like bragging. I'm far more comfortable enumerating my weaknesses. Miller says finding a new position is basically a sales job and the product is yourself. And he recommends making phone calls. I hate making phone calls.

5. How do you know when to change jobs or careers? When the oppression at the current position becomes simply too much to bear, and the desire to drive my car into a tree is stronger than my desire to drive my car to work.

6. How should we apply the principles found in Colossians 3:23–24 as workers in this day and time? "(23) Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, (24) since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." I believe that the Lord Christ dwells within me, so the satisfaction I receive from working with all my heart at whatever I do serves my self and my Lord. Trouble is, I'm no longer working with all my heart when I'm at the preschool, and I use my current personal transitions as an excuse. My God-given abilities are taking backseat to the real-life tribulations I'm experiencing. I wonder how subtle a shift in thinking (feeling?) is required to bring my heart back to my work. To bring my heart back to anything, for that matter.

*sigh*

what? what is it?

2011-06-27T10:59:00.002-07:00

No matter what I'm doing, I have the distinct pervasive feeling that I'm not doing it right and I should be doing something else. Why? What is that?

checked out

2011-06-27T07:45:00.002-07:00

Had a rough week last, and basically checked out for a few days. Saw my doctor, who upped my antidepressant from 10mg daily to 20mg daily and I believe that's helping. Doc Sutanto also recommended I find a therapist. Working on that. I gots lotsa issues. My sister returned from her Midwestern tour and that's helping, too.

I haven't exercised in four days. It's hot. Forecast high of 113 today. It's dry and dusty and I can't remember the last time it rained. Bad conditions for outdoor exercise. Without daily activity, however, I tend to wallow even more.

I've been reading a lot lately and feeling guilty about it, though I don't know why I should. No matter what I'm doing I always think I should be doing something else. Maybe because I'm not working in the morning? I basically don't want to do anything but read, watch movies, and crochet. But then I feel guilty if that's what I'm doing.

I've thrown up my hands, given in, given up. Succumbed to a depressive state with the hope that I'll rally in a few days.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 6 Questions

2011-06-24T07:46:00.002-07:00

Chapter 6: 6 Job Offers in 10 Days

1. Do you understand your areas of competence? Not as well as I should. I pretty much feel I'm qualified for nothing, so that pigeonholes me into following the path I've forged for the past 5 years: preschool teacher. I'm making a comfy lateral move to a preschool I admire (from the one that currently sucks the lifeblood from me). I have competent people skills, with children and adults. That makes me good at teaching preschool. But that skill would transfer elsewhere, don't you think? Let's brainstorm, no censoring.
Becky's Areas of Competence

reads aloud with organic enthusiasm to groups of children or adults
arrives promptly
fulfills expected duties
communicates effectively with peers and superiors (not necessarily in this current job, but communication is a two-way street, is it not?)
voracious quest for knowledge
able to understand computer programs and file management on a Windows-based network
possesses superior organizational skills

This is boring. I'm not boring.

2. Do you feel trapped because of your current or past work experience? Yes. Feel unqualified for anything other than early childhood education, and recently don't even feel qualified for that.

3. Do you recognize how easily your abilities may transfer to a new industry or profession? No. Feel hopeless.

4. Can you see value in those things you may have done as a volunteer through your church or community? I don't volunteer in my community. I served on the Discernment Committee at the inception of my church's search for a new rector. At church I sometimes serve as lector and teach Sunday School. Those activities don't encourage me to stretch past my comfort zone.

5. Are there skills or training you need to make you a candidate for the work you love? I still don't know what work is the work I love. Still searching.

6. Has God given you abilities that do not match your desires? If so, how can you reconcile those? Just what are my God-given abilities? I feel like I'm missing something here. Too scared to turn my eye to myself.

tmi

2011-06-23T09:45:00.003-07:00

Jack's first play date was with his friend Mason whom he met while in the young threes' class at St. Alban's. Mason and Jack were close for two years, but when they moved on to kindergarten we lost contact with their family. Saw them last night on the way in to piano lessons. Jack was always kind of scared of the dad. So am I. He's tall, good looking, and an anesthesiologist. I greeted him and the children by name, told him who I was, asked Mason if he remembered Jack. The boys didn't remember each other. Dad and I exchanged a few menial social niceties. As we parted ways, Dad concluded what should have been a superficial exchange with, "And you? How are you doing?" I replied, "Going bankrupt and getting divorced."

The blank expression on his face was priceless.

"No sense sugar coating it," I said. "Take care. Tell Amy I said hi."

Ha.

Let's Call Her Ashley

2011-06-21T07:13:00.002-07:00

I can't remember her name. She told me when she moved in, but I've forgotten. The girl who lives above me, the one who came home early one morning and apologized to me for no reason? This morning, at 6:04 am while I was outside on the patio reading, a man turned up the stairs to her apartment. He bid me good morning. He left 40 minutes later. At 7:12 am, the woman I saw leaving last week came down the stairs, followed by a giant dude with a shaved and tattooed head. I am SO curious about what goes on there, but I'm afraid I really wouldn't like to know.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 5 Questions

2011-06-21T06:47:00.004-07:00

Chapter 5: Am I an Eagle or an Owl?

1. In what kind of settings are you most comfortable? I prefer talking to children to talking with adults. I like reading aloud, and then the age of the audience doesn't matter. I'm comfortable selling my bottle cap creations at church craft bazaars and indie radio station fundraisers. I'm comfortable at the library, at the movie theater, on a hike, on my bike, at the Yoga studio.

2. How do you respond to management? I respond to management as authority. Because I'm a people pleaser (self-diagnosed with "caretaker personality disorder") I crave approval from others. This is rooted in my inability to gain enough of my dad's approval/acceptance as a child. In the past I've worked hard to gain the approval of my boss. When my boss was a 60 year old man that worked out pretty well in my scheme of things, because he liked that I worked so hard for him and rewarded me accordingly. The friction with my current boss forces me into perceived role conflict: she's my boss, therefore an authority. I work hard to gain her approval. She does not approve of my hard work. I do not respect her. Not because I can't gain her approval, but because of her past actions. So what do I do? In the past few weeks I've skulked around like an outcast pack member, tail between my legs, tongue lolling, goofy toothy smile as I work ever harder to gain her approval. I can't reconcile my roles as educator, managed employee, team member. My solution is to leave the situation.

3. How would you manage people? Past experiences have revealed me to be a poor manager. Because I'm a people pleaser, I want everyone to be happy and I want everyone to like me. Those desires make me a bad manager. I can't say how I'd currently manage people. I'm too deep into my own self-discovery to think about it.

4. Are you better working with people, things, or ideas? I am better at working with people and things. Ideas are too abstract, too intangible for me to peg down. I'm usually tolerant of other people's ideas. That tolerance paired with my desire to gain approval equals Easily Swayed Becky. My own ideas suffer. When working with ideas I'm best working alone.

5. Are you more analytical, detailed, and logical, or are you one to see the big picture and respond with emotion and enthusiasm? I can't respond definitively. I see the trees AND the forest. I prefer to concentrate on the trees. As for emotion and enthusiasm? I like to think I have those too. (I realize I'm sabotaging the process here by refusing to be specific.)

6. Are you steady and predictable, or do you seek variety and new challenges?Steady and predictable. Fearful of risk.

7. Are you verbal and persuasive, or are you the caring, empathetic listener?Caring, empathetic listener. Not at all persuasive. Uncomfortable being verbal.

8. What strengths have others noticed in you? Currently I think most people notice only my weaknesses. My friend Nikki did write recently "Enjoy finding you again, including your least-favorite parts of you. You are far more strong in your vulnerability than you may know." I'm gonna go with that.

9. What are 5 words or phrases that describe you? Nikki's words for me were "accepting, supportive, humane, forgiving, hilarious, brilliant, and creative." My words for myself are integrity, questing, curious, honest, and reluctant.

10. In writing your epitaph, what would you want people to remember about you? I did this in the Write Your Life workshop I attended a month ago.

Becky never felt like she gave enough, though she gave of herself readily. She never felt she was good enough, but she was perfect in each moment. She made mistakes but she owned them. She was sometimes reluctant, reticent, recalcitrant. But she was usually grateful. Each prayer she uttered or thought began as a prayer of thanksgiving, not of supplication. She was thankful for her health, her earthly body (though she often felt it didn't measure up, she's learning to accept that it does), her relationships. She undervalued herself. While she was here she was afraid to own her valuable place in the world. If she doesn't actually die in the blue mini van crash with the pie truck on Catalina Highway, I hope she learns to trust her place, her every perfection, even her flaws as perfect in the fabric of her being."

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 4 Questions

2011-06-19T08:20:00.003-07:00

Chapter 4: Wheels, Goals, and Clear Action

1. Are you a goal setter? Do you typically set goals at the first of the year? If not, why not? I rarely set goals for fear of falling short of them. Miller contends, "Considerable evidence indicates that expectations of your future do, in fact, tend to create your future." and also "Keep in mind that only about 8 percent of the general population can identify clear goals and only about 3 percent ever actually write those down." You are the Master Gardener of Your Soul: "Control your own destiny by controlling what goes into your mind. The books you read, the thoughts you think, the television you watch, the conversations you participate in, the people you associate with, and the music you listen to combine to create your future. Are you sowing the seeds for the life you want 5 years from now?" I think I am, but it's damned hard work.

Where Are You Now? – Personal Checkup
Am I missing anything in my life right now that’s important to me? _X_ YES __ NO
I know what I am passionate about. __ YES _X_ NO
I am well organized, know how to focus on my top priorities and get
a lot done every day. _X_ YES __ NO
I have a written, strategic plan for my work and personal life with time lines and quantifiable measurements. __ YES _X_ NO
I have ample time for my family, social relationships and feel good about the
balance I have achieved. __ YES _X_ NO
I spend time 4-5 times a week exercising to restore myself physically. _X_ YES __ NO
7. I am regularly achieving my income goals. __ YES _X_ NO
8. My life reflects my spiritual values and I am growing, maturing, and gaining
wisdom in this area. _X_ YES __ NO
9. I have studied and developed the new, creative ideas I have had this last year.
_X_ YES __ NO
10. I believe I am fulfilling my Mission in life. __ YES _X_ NO

2. How would you describe your current focus on work? distracted and seeking. I'm dissatisfied with my current position because I have trouble communicating effectively with my boss and I feel my current preschool's pursuance of NAEYC accreditation and Quality First endorsement is at cross purposes with what's good for the kids. I feel the foothills parents' desires for their children are turning their kids to precociousness without foundation. I'm suffering burnout and wondering if my lateral move to a different preschool is the cure I need or an empty panacea.

3. What hobbies do you have? What other skills and interests do you have?

reading
knitting
crocheting
writing
bottle cap crafting
collage
singing
walking
jogging
sewing
blogging
photography
thrifting

Really, this list could be endless.

4. How are you involved in your community? My only real community involvement is church and that's faltering because the preschool at which I enjoy my unsatisfactory employment is an outreach ministry of my church. My church is accustomed to seeing me as a package deal: preschool teacher, Dave's wife, Jack's mom.

5. What was your father’s or mother’s attitude toward work and how has that affected you?Dad has always been extremely dedicated to work and to him I attribute what I fondly refer to as My Protestant Work Ethic. I want to do a good job. I want to be recognized for doing a good job (that's not really part of the Protestant Work Ethic, is it?). Dad loved his job flying for Southwest Airlines. Mom stayed home with me and Mandy until we were older, when she went to work as a nurse. I think Mom felt fulfilled by that work but I remember her grudging the hours (graveyard shift) and the drive (11 miles to the hospital in Lincoln) and sometimes her coworker. I'd be interested in hearing your comments, Mom. I don't really know how you felt about work, except it seemed to me at the time that you'd really rather not go.

This is a meaty chapter that goes in to more depth about Seven Areas of Achievement. I might have to revisit it, but right now I'm willing to see how it plays out in the rest of the book.

five minute free write friday 06/17

2011-06-17T20:00:00.002-07:00

like the strangers you have met

If you've met them then they're not really strangers, are they? I live amongst familiar strangers. Above me live a man, a woman, and a small child. Next door to me lives Annie, who's hardly ever home. Sharing my back wall is Betty, whose dogs Briggy and Fred had puppies not too long after I moved in. briggy and Fred are Pomeranian mixed with something else and those puppies were incredibly cute, like pointy noised hamsters. A month ago a skinny, nervous looking woman moved into the apartment above Annie's. I've taken to sitting out on the patio of a vmorning, reading a book with the early sun. Three days ago a man came walkking downstairs around 6am. Yesterday a different man came downstairs around 6am. this morning a WOMAN came down stairs around 6am. At first I thought my new neighbor enjoyed male compaionship; now I don't know what to think. Why shoould I think anythingg at all? Why should I concoct scenarios for a person I don't even know? One morning she herslef came home in the early hours. She took a swig of apple juice from a half gallon container then cuahgt sight of me. "I'm sorry." She said. "For what?" said I. "No need to apologize." What was that about?

I've met a nice woman and her two sons. She's divorced and her boys are a bit older than Jack. We all get along well. It's nice to have found someone in the complex I can relate to.

There's a dad I wonder about. He has three children: a girl Jack's age, a girl a little younger, and a 3 year old boy. I've never seen a mother and the kids don't talk about one. I've never talked to the dad but I've invented all sorts of nice things about him. He's tall, which I like, and has a gap-toothed smile, which I also like. He had long wavy brown hair but buzzed it soon after I first saw him. He's quiet and when he speaks to the kids it's in a low voice marked by an indistinct accent or perhaps a speech impediment. Lately I've seen him hanging out with various women in the complex. I suppose one morning he's the one who will be walking downstairs at 6am.

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 3 Questions

2011-06-16T21:18:00.002-07:00

Chapter 3: Creating a Life Plan

1. In today’s rapidly changing work environment, is it realistic to expect a job to provide more than just a paycheck? If we believe a job should provide only a paycheck and nothing more, we're headed down a path of degeneration. Our society is based on economics and consumerism. You must have a paycheck to purchase the necessities of life. You spend plus-or-minus 8 hours a day at your work. You are degrading your identity of you expect your work to be nothing more than a paycheck. Not only should your work provide the money you need to live, it should provide you a sense of purpose. It's up to you to decide if that purpose is gratifying.

2. Have you ever had a sense of calling in your life? How did you hear that calling? I feel most fulfilled when I'm reading aloud: picture books to the preschool kids or Bible verses to the church congregation. I know I'm doing something right when I steal a glance at my audience of preschoolers and they're looking at me rather than looking at the pictures in the book I'm holding up. That's when I hear my calling.

3. Does God call only a few people? God calls everyone. Not everyone is listening. That's OK.

4. Is it reasonable to expect our work to be part of the fulfillment of our calling? Why wouldn't it be reasonable? In my work with preschoolers I bring them into the web that connects us all: when I read them the story of The Fisherman and His Wife, or Moon Mother, or The Ugly Duckling, not only do I deliver to them literacy, I also deliver connection. They become part of the great mass of us connected by these stories. When I connect with them personally in this way, and in turn connect them to a larger body, I fulfill my calling in my work.

5. Do you currently have a job, a career, or a vocation? I don't know. A job is one's daily activities producing income. Yes, I have a job. A career is a line of work. I've worked as an early childhood educator for 5 years now at the same job. I'm moving to a different job in early childhood education in August so I guess that means I have a career in early childhood education. "Vocation is the most profound of the three, incorporating calling, purpose, mission, and destiny. This is the big picture many people never identify for themselves. It's what you're doing in life that makes a difference and builds meaning for you, which you can review in your later years to see the impact you've made on the world." (p. 38) Perhaps what I do now does make an impact. I like to think that I've induced a few "crystallizing moments" for a handful of the kids trusted to my care. It's the big picture I can't identify for myself.

6. What does success mean for you this year? This year success means survival. That's all. I want to poke my head in to 2012 knowing in my heart it will be a better year than this one. And that has nothing to do with my work, really.

7. Are you where you thought you’d be at this stage of life? Hell no.

8. Do you go home at night with a sense of meaning, purpose, and accomplishment? I go home at night feeling unappreciated.

9. If you want different results next year, what will you change in what you are doing now? I feel like my own efforts are good ones, and require little change on my part. I do good work. I'm a person of integrity. I stand on my two feet while the world swirls around me. The different results for next year I want to come from my own efforts. Too long I've allowed my efforts to be influenced by someone else. Now I make my decisions for me. Me.

A Wallet Devotional

2011-06-14T10:40:00.002-07:00

This is the beginning of a new day.
God has given me this day to use as I will.
I can waste it or use it for good.
What I do today is very important because I am exchanging a day of my life for it.
When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever, leaving something in its place I have traded for it.
I want it to be a gain, not loss---good, not evil---success, not failure in order that I shall not forget the price I paid for it.

five minute free write friday

2011-06-10T21:30:00.003-07:00

write about a task, job, or chore you dislike

I hate emptying the dishwasher. There's something about that used water that feels dirty, though I use the dishwasher to sanitize the dishes. I don't like talking on the phone to anyone. That's not considered a chore sometimes but to me it is. Calling the insurance company, the doctor's office, even a close friend is something I dislike doing. There's that strange otherworldly space between your phone and mine. My words get lost and I don't have the advantage of thinking about them like I do when I get to write them down.

I dislike lesson planning. i'm a big advocate of free play, believing that children learn best when they set their own goals and explore their own interests.

I dislike washing the car. I'd rather pay someone else to do it, but then I'm dissatisfied with the way it's done.

I dislike making the bed. I've given that up completely, actually. Used to be I couldn't sleep in a bed that hadn't been made, but nowadays I don't even care if the bed has sheets on it. I do care, however, if my feet feel clean. I've been known to arise from near sleep to wash my feet in the sink.

A task, a chore, a job I dislike. It becomes more difficult to pinpoint. It's petty, isn't it? This bemoaning such a little thing like emptying the dishwasher or making a phone call or washing the car. what to do ? How to turn it positive? Jack's old enough to empty the dishwasher, and he doesn't mind doing it (overmuch, anyway). Much of my communication I can do through email rather than over the phone. Loosen up about the way the car is washed. Stop making the bed. Wash my feet. It's all small stuff. And I'm tired. Goo dnight.

file under s for strange (or skin tag)

2011-06-09T06:41:00.002-07:00

Ever since he discovered them during a wrestling match a month or so ago, Jack has been fascinated by the two skin tags clinging to the outside periphery of my right armpit. The other night I agreed to let him cut them off. What? Why would he want to anyway? At my direction he got the cuticle scissors and a Kleenex to stop whatever bleeding there might be. After two unsuccessful and painful tries, I bade him turn the scissors over so the blade curved against my skin, rather than away from it. He cut off the little one first, then the big one. The big one he rolled between his fingers like a booger, than deposited it in a carefully crafted paper towel envelope. The next morning I threw it away, but then fished it out of the trash when he threw a fit.

What's up with that? I mean, I'm glad to be rid of those freaky little blemishes without paying a doctor to do the surgery, but why was Jack so interested? And why did he insist on saving the big one?

Last night I threw it away again. We'll see what happens.

deflated

2011-06-08T08:48:00.004-07:00

Enrollment at the preschool has been down over the past year and this summer it's pretty dismal. In the past we've had 4 full classes; this summer we have 2 full classes. Most of the kids go home at 1:00 but 11 or so stay, slowly leaving the group between 2:00 and 6:00. By 4:00 we usually have but 5 children or less; by 5:00 we're usually down to one kid. School policy stipulates that a teacher is never alone on campus with children (or a child, as the case may be). That's a difficult ratio to work with: two teachers to one child. So I spent Tuesday afternoon in raking the playground, sweeping the patios, straightening the clutter. I did this by choice. I could have sat on my butt drawing pictures or reading a book with the one kid left, but my coteacher was doing that.

I left work Tuesday feeling good about the way I'd spent my time. The playground looked better than it had in months.

I came to work Wednesday to a note from my boss that read, "Please turn off the hoses and empty the water tables at the end of the day."

Well, I know I emptied two water tables, rinsed them clean of sand and debris, and flipped them over so they'd be fresh and clear of fallen leaves and dead bugs in the morning. But I didn't do the same for one other table. And I'm pretty sure I turned the hose off after I'd rinsed out the tables. All that other work I'd done---all that above and beyond---completely invalidated by the comments in that note.

This kind of communication is off-putting. Sometimes I think I'm too sensitive, and my ingrained pleasing patterns and approval-seeking patterns are getting the best of me. But when I listen to my colleagues talk, I hear them voicing some of the same feelings I have. Our boss is not a good communicator.

I avoid conflict. I nurse hurt feelings. I hold grudges. When my boss (MB) approached me and asked, "Did you see my note?" instead of saying, "Yes. I'm sorry," I attempted to open a dialogue.

"Did you see my note?"

"Yes. I know I emptied and flipped those two tables there." (pointing)

"But this one had yucky water and dead bugs in it." (pointing to the neglected table which had, ironically, been destroyed by a child dropping heavy rocks into it just 20 minutes before I came to work)

"OK. Sorry about that."

"And you've got to turn the water off. That hose over there was on when I came in this morning and water was pooled under the picnic table."

She indicated the area I'd raked out the day before, an area I've noted never dries out. I think the irrigation has lost its emitter over there, because the ground under the picnic table is wet and pocked with little divots, as if the water geysers from the irrigation tubing and drips off the metal mesh of the picnic table into neat little evenly-spaced holes in the sand. It stinks over there. Tuesday I raked all that wet sand out from under the table in an effort to dry it. "No," I said. "I'm pretty sure I turned that off after I rinsed the table out."

"The hose was left on," MB said, her tone of voice escalating into exasperation. "When I lifted the hose out I could see the hole the water made in the ground."

"I don't think I left it on," I said. I don't remember how I said this. "I think there's a problem with the irrigation over there. I raked out under the picnic table to try to dry the sand out."

"Well then you'll see where the water from the hose was."

I wanted to crumple in defeat. "OK. There's the evidence. I guess I left the hose on."

"OK."

"I felt good about the work I did on the playground yesterday afternoon," I said. I don't remember how I phrased my next observation. I wanted to let her know that an acknowledgment of my efforts would have been nice. I said something about coming in to a "negative" note...

"It's not even negative!" she said, throwing up her hands. "It's just a statement of fact!"

"OK," I said, fumbling for what I wanted to say next. I was obviously not done speaking. I did not apologize, and for that I'm proud. I stuttered a bit, trying to formulate my next thought.

She threw up her hands again and walked away from me.

In the grand scheme of things I know this is a small confrontation. I desperately try to avoid confrontation and smooth over dissent. This exchange did not end well, in my opinion. MB walked off feeling obviously rankled; I was left feeling unheard.

As I contemplated the exchange over the course of the afternoon I came to realize that no matter how I voice my feelings (I just want my efforts to be appreciated!) MB is not going to hear where I'm coming from. I could go to her and try again, or I could drop it.

It is not in my nature to drop it. I'm like a pit bull whose jaws must be prised apart to loosen her grip. I acknowledged my feelings of hurt; I acknowledged that it didn't much matter if I was right or wrong about leaving the hose on. I acknowledged that MB is entitled to her own defensive posturings.

I let it go. Later in the day I conversed easily with her. I was able to look her in the eye and smile. And it came from a genuine place, not a false front.

That was some big work for me.

contract

2011-06-06T09:14:00.003-07:00

Jack fills his time in a techie way. When he's bored playing a video game, he watches walk throughs on YouTube. When he's bored watching walk throughs, he records his own walk through. When he's bored recording, he watches Smosh on YouTube. When he's bored with that, he might watch the Nintendo Channel on the Wii.

That's how, on Sunday afternoon, he discovered Chrono Trigger, an RPG created by the Final Fantasy team and released in 1995. It's now downloadable for 500 Wii points ($5).

After discovering Chrono Trigger, Jack researched it on YouTube. He watched several walk throughs. He decided he wanted it.

He had 300 Wii points.

He brainstormed ways he could earn more Wii points. He emphatically stated that practicing piano wasn't something he should do to earn Wii points, because it's something he should do anyway. But he resists practicing. He doesn't want to practice, which is precisely why consistent piano practice could earn him Wii points.

We had a long back and forth. He suggested that he could empty the dishwasher. (But there aren't any dishes in it.) He could take out the trash. (I did that this morning.) He could help with the laundry. (OK. We need to do laundry.) But he wanted the game now. Isn't that instant gratification? What if we made a contract? He didn't want to. I made one anyway.

I agree to pay for $10 worth of Wii points on the following conditions:
Jack helps me with the laundry.
Jack cleans the catbox (with my help) on Monday.
Jack empties the dishwasher on Tuesday.
Jack practice piano for 15 minutes on Monday and Tuesday.
Signed....
I agree to these conditions.
Signed....

Jack looked at the contract and threw a mild fit, which prompted me to leave the apartment to go check the mail. When I returned, he was practicing piano.

After 15 minutes of practicing, he pulled the laundry basket out of the closet. I coached him on how to sort, check all the pockets, gather the necessary items, and walk it all over to the laundry room. He inserted the coins, measured the soap, loaded the machines, and insisted we wait until the washers filled and the cycles began. When it was time to load the dryers, he cleaned the lint traps of all the dryers in the laundry room, loaded the clothes, put in the dryer sheets, inserted the coins, started the cycles.

Then, 48 minutes later, we went back to the laundry room and with my coaching he folded all of his own clothes. We loaded the basket and headed back to the apartment.

"Mommy, I'm not going to sign that contract yet," he said.

"Why not? You want the game tonight, don't you?"

"Yeah. But I'm not sure I can do all of those things."

"You don't sign it, you don't get the game tonight, right?"

We discussed consequences for what might happen if he signed the contract, got the game, then didn't honor the conditions of the contract. He came up with some very authentic consequences. But by the end of the evening he still hadn't signed the contract and he still didn't get the game.

This morning, right after waking, he asked me to show him how to scoop the catbox. I showed him. After washing his hands, he sat down and practiced piano for 15 minutes. When he was done, he said, "Do you think I can do those other things tomorrow?"

"What I think doesn't matter. Do you think you can do them?" I said.

"Yeah."

He went and signed the contract. I bought him the Wii points.

We're both learning.

Write Your Life

2011-06-04T21:55:00.003-07:00

Two weeks ago I attended an all-day Write Your Life workshop facilitated by a friend. The invitation read something like this:

What would your life look like if you felt empowered to manifest your dreams?
How are you using your gifts and talents to reach your highest potential?
Are you ready to explore your choices?
This interactive workshop will take you on a transformative exploration to help you to articulate, visualize and identify ways to practice the art of creative living.

That workshop challenged me to acknowledge my Bankruptcy and Subsequent Divorce to a group of relative strangers. Somehow that was much more difficult for me than acknowledging the BASD to people who already know me. Why is that? My friends already love me and understand who I am. These new people... well, they're amongst the first to know me in my new persona: poverty-stricken divorcee. What does that look like to them? How do I define myself when I've renounced a role I've held for 17 years? I'm no longer defined by my relationship to DH. That's interesting to me.

One of the exercises at the workshop invited each of us to describe our perfect place, our idea of heaven. This is what I wrote:

There's a big wooden house with spacious interior and a massive wrap-around porch. On the porch are comfortable places to sit and lie down---suspended chairs and hammocks and rockers. It's usually sunny and warm, almost too warm, but that's OK. It's flat and dusty but only a mile distant (to the north) rise incredible mountains, snow capped and vicious, protecting that house with the wrap-around porch. A mile south is a CA beach with tide pools. Every afternoon the wind picks up and a storm rolls in off the coast. There's an amazing lightning and thunder show that lasts about half an hour. Then it smells like rain, like creosote and wet concrete. Otherwise it smells like jasmine from the vines curling up the porch stanchions and railings. There's a garden that provides all the fresh vegetables I need, and an orchard providing the fruits I like. I have no refrigerator because each meal is harvested as I need it. The whole place is solar powered and there's lightning-fast internet with streaming Netflix. I putter around daily, maintaining my self-sufficient, self-sustained property. I am always happy for a visitor but don't often issue an invitation. I teach myself to fish and dig clams and trap crabs and lobsters. There's a horse but I don't often ride, he just follows me around like a dog would. There's a room inside for crafts; there's a room inside that's completely empty. There's a room inside holding only a grand piano. I play and when Jack comes to visit me he fills the house and yard with music.

Most notable: I am almost always alone.

Why is that?

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 2 Questions

2011-06-02T19:57:00.003-07:00

Chapter 2: The Challenge of Change. This should be an easy one, right? considering all the change I've been through so far this year? But I find it's very hard and because of that challenge, I'm avoiding it. Issuing this disclaimer: I'm freewriting.

1. Respond to the statement, “All progress requires change, but not all change is progress.” Change: Eleven years ago Dave and I moved from Urbana, Illinois, to Tucson, Arizona, because we felt our lives needed a change and we weren't ready to start a family. That was change, not progress. Progress would have been separation. I knew this, subconsciously?, even that long ago. Ten years ago we decided to start a family. That was change but not necessarily progress. Don't get me wrong: my son's existence has given my life definition, but starting a family was NOT the progress my marriage needed. Last year we decided (I decided) to seek separation. That was change AND progress. For me, anyway.

2. What statement describes your career path so far? Opportunistic. I've never actively sought a career path. I've simply chosen what presented itself.

3. How has a company change affected you? How did it make you feel? In my line of work (early childhood educator) prestige is granted by the National Association for the Education of Young Children (NAEYC) whose aims are noble but methods are newly overly bureaucratic. My current preschool is seeking NAEYC reaccreditation, which is enormously expensive and unnecessarily emphatic on documentation and paperwork. The change is within NAEYC, an organization meant to improve the experience of children in a program, but whose accreditation procedures require teachers to take valuable time away from kids so their interactions can be documented through photographs and narrative. The decision to shortchange our students by engaging in the reaccreditation process is the main reason I'm leaving this preschool in favor of one that's decided to eschew accreditation in favor of providing children with an authentic experience. I feel frustrated and discouraged by the endless nonpaid hours I've worked to document how our school meets the standards set forth by NAEYC.

4. Have you experienced any “failure” in your career? If so, what did it lead to? When I fail, I usually quit. As a result, I don't often take risks. In my work life the only job I was really bad at was telemarketing as a U of I fundraiser, dialing up alums and asking for monetary support. I hated that job. I lasted not even a full semester freshman year of college before I totally gave up.

5. What were your childhood goals and ambitions for life? Which ones have you been able to fulfill? I don't even remember that I had childhood goals and ambitions for life. I meant to be a writer, because it came easy to me and I was good at it. Being good at writing as a child is a completely different thing from being good at writing as an adult. Here's a quote from the book that really spoke to me:

If you ask a group of second graders, "How many of you can draw, sing, or dance?" every hand will go up as everyone clamors for a chance to prove their multiple abilities. Ask the same group when they are juniors in high school and perhaps half will claim any one of these skills. Ask the same group when they're at age 35, and you will find perhaps 2 or 3 who acknowledge performing adequately in any of these areas. What happened? Did they all lose their earlier abilities? No, we get used to very familiar paths in our lives and eliminate many possibilities along the way."

I'm still a good writer, it's just no longer a familiar path.

6. Who are 2 or 3 people you know who seem to have accomplished their dreams? What do you remember about their accomplishments? Wellllll...... maybe my dad accomplished his dreams. He made a career out of flying: first in the Air Force and then commercially. After he retired, he built his own airplane from a kit and flies it now whenever he likes. What I remember about his accomplishments is that he seems to live without regret. A second person I know who seems to have accomplished his dreams is Eric Esquivel: he wanted to write comic books, so he did, and published his first one himself. He's still got a lot of life to live, during which time he can accomplish all the other things he wants to do. What I remember about his accomplishment: he wanted to write comic books, so he did. He just did what he wanted to do. No excuses.

7. What do you imagine your retirement will be like? I can't even imagine retirement. I figure I'll be working well into my twilight years.

"The object of teaching a child...

2011-05-31T21:38:00.002-07:00

...is to enable the child to get along without the teacher."

This quote is on a poster hung on the wall of the room I share with Ms. Janice at the preschool where I teach. I've worked with Janice for five years now, with only an ill-fated one-year hiatus during which I taught older threes. For the past two years I've gradually assumed more and more responsibility in the classroom. I write the newsletters, keep a blog, lead circle time. I've shouldered the burden of preparing our classroom portfolio for our school's upcoming NAEYC accreditation. All of this I did because I thought I was doing my job. I thought I was taking care of Janice.

This summer I'm working afternoons while Janice works mornings. In the fall, I won't be working with her at all because I've accepted a different job at a different school.

Today we set up our classrooms for the summertime camp program. I busied myself hanging paper on bulletin boards, stocking the classroom library, gathering paper, crayons, and other art supplies for the cabinet, and bandying about ideas with my coteacher.

At the end of the day I went to Janice's room to tell her goodbye, only to find her in tears, standing amongst the tiny toddler sized chairs.

"I just feel so lost," she said.

I feel like it's all my fault. I have not enabled Janice to get along without me. I thought I was taking care of her when I took on those classroom responsibilities, but I think I was just encouraging her muscles to atrophy. And now I'm leaving.

Then again, maybe I give myself too much credit.

5 minute freewrite: pip

2011-05-30T20:06:00.002-07:00

Gladys Knight and the... he's a real... pipsqueak. Aren't pips the little seeds in certain fruits? It's a funny little word, fairly evocative, reminds me of some of the little turds in my care at the preschool. Or when something really uncomfortable goes down, like "I went to the dentist for a cleaning and it was a real pip." Wasn't one of the hobbits in Frodo's company called Pippen? Not Pip. Scotty. Scotty Pippin. Pippen. Pippity Pop. Just read on fb that Miss Tiggy Winkle's Toys will be closing, and that's a real pip, too. Where do peoplee by toys? Target and walmart I guess. It's a sad time. I hope Yikes stays open. And Mildred and Dildred. But that's perhaps part of the reason Miss Tiggywinkle's hasn't done so well. Where does that leave the International Children's Film Festival, sponsored for its first inaugural years (x2) by Miss Tiggy Winkle's and The Loft? Perhaps The Loft has enough steam on its own to keep it going, or Mildred and Dildred's or Yikes will step up. But seriously, bring it back to pip. What color is a pip? Small and black and shiny, like a tiny hardcase beetle inside a strawberry. A pip is NOT like a strawberry seed, which rides the back of its ripe red fruit. A pip is more like the little poppy-seedish seeds inside a kiwi fruit. You say pip singular but I don't imagine pips residing alone. A drove of pips. A clutch of pips. Snip snap snout, this tale's told out.

repetitive

2011-05-29T07:19:00.003-07:00

Why do I tend to repeat myself in conversation? I'm aware that I do it, but seem powerless to stop it. Example:

"Did you go to the talent show at Jack's school?"

"No."

"Well, you know Avril? She was in charge. She says it's getting so weird there."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Well, you know that transvestite who volunteers there?"

"Yeah! Every time I go to St. Vinnie's on Dollar Clothing Saturday, she's there shopping with her girlfriend."

"I guess she always looks fabulous. Is she really obvious?"

"Oh, yeah. Obviously a man in women's clothes. I see her every time I go to St. Vinnie's on Dollar Clothing Saturday."

"Well, Avril's backstage getting the numbers ready for the talent show. She's got the Dance Force One girl going on next. That little fourth grader was dressed like a pole dancer! Then the transvestite's getting ready to go on, and he... she... well, the transvestite is doing all these intense stretching and warm up exercises, and Avril's just beside herself. What's she supposed to do with the pole dancer and the transvestite?"

"I see her every time I go to St. Vinnie's on Dollar Clothing Saturday."

In retrospect, I suppose that's the best I had to offer to the conversation.

clean up day

2011-05-27T20:42:00.003-07:00

The school year is over.

All the manipulatives are disinfected.

Summer, hold off for three days, will ya?

48 Days to the Work You Love: Chapter 1 Questions

2011-05-26T07:21:00.003-07:00

Chapter 1: What Is Work?

1. Who gave you your first job? What kind of job was it? How much money did you make? I started babysitting for children of my parent's friends as soon as I could be left alone with children. I especially liked the night time jobs with families who expected their children to go to bed early. There was this one family---I can't remember the kids' names, but they had a German shepherd called Shaka---whose kids went to bed at 8:00. After I put the kids to bed, Shaka and I would crash on the living room floor and watch The Sound of Music on VHS. This was back in the day when few of us had a VCR, cable was in its infancy, and you waited a whole year for one of the networks to air The Sound of Music (and The Wizard of Oz, and that trippy animated The Hobbit). I loved having my own money to spend on Duran Duran tapes, Bop magazine, and white lace fingerless gloves.
The summer between freshmen and sophomore years my parents moved us to Illinois, from Tucson to the small town (pop. 1800) where my dad grew up. I was 14 when we moved and turned 15 soon after, but still too young to work. Sometime during that first year my parents consented to a work permit and I took a job at the local library: shelving, checking out, organizing, and performing other clerical duties. I loved that job. I loved how quiet it was in the library; I loved reading picture books as I organized the children's section; I loved that the ladies who worked there didn't think I was a dork (in retrospect, I realize they were something of town outcasts themselves). But I didn't work there long, even though I loved it. As soon as I turned 16 I got a job waiting tables at a restaurant on the square, uptown. And I loved that, too.

2. From looking at your work life so far, what has been of the greatest value or worth? I'd say most significantly my work life has been characterized by a suppression of ego. I've always worked in the service industry: librarian, server, electronic prepress/graphic designer, teacher. In those industries the needs of the provider are always subsumed by the needs of the client. I've learned to be good at what I do and still retain a fairly positive self-image.

3. If your job changes, does your purpose change? No.

4. Do you think your current job will exist five years from now?
Yes. There will still be preschool teachers, just maybe not gigging at my current venue.
5. What would be the key characteristics of an ideal job or career? Early childhood educators are woefully undercompensated. An ideal career, for me, still involves service. Helping others reach their full potential is necessary for me to reach mine. An ideal career would compensate me adequately for the work I do, with other necessities (insurance; mental health/wellness) considered.

6. When you daydream, what do you see yourself doing? I see myself smiling and reacting warmly to others. Often I see myself alone, but I think that's in my leisure hours. I see animals and children and I'm almost always outdoors.

7. What have been the happiest, most fulfilling moments in your life? I get a real sense of satisfaction guiding trepidatious children through their first days of preschool. Some kids come in and immediately own the playground. Other kids come in and they're completely overwhelmed. I love helping those kids acknowledge their fear (acknowledge, not deny), find something they enjoy, like digging in the sand or coloring a picture or examining tiny rocks, and engaging them in that activity. I like working in partnership. That's how I approach my work with kids, even my son. That makes me happy.

8. If nothing changed in your life in the next 5 years, would that be OK? No.

the right thing

2011-05-25T22:23:00.003-07:00

I left Jack at home tonight, alone after dark for the first time. He's quite responsible for a 9-year-old boy. Still, it worried me to do it.

Today was the last day of school. Jack's report card showed maintenance or improvement across the rubric. His coveted LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean for Wii came from amazon.com in the mail today. He conducted himself with confidence at this afternoon's piano recital, even when I lost my place in the duet we played and missed the page turn.

I couldn't make him sit through a high school graduation. I just couldn't.

But I couldn't miss it, either. I've known Michelle's daughter since she was Jack's age. When I met Carolyn she was a third grader attending the same school as Jack. They even had the same third grade teacher.

And my Michelle... she's been there for me. She understands my current travails. Four years ago she and her husband divorced under different circumstances. Of all the family members, Carolyn in particular has had a hard time coming to terms with the divorce. She harbors a lot of anger toward her father. Relations between her and her dad are strained, if they exist at all. Of course he insists on attending her graduation. What father wouldn't?

So. Leave my child at home, alone, for 2+ hours at night on the last day of school? Or stay home with my child and miss Carolyn's graduation?

I chose to go. I'm glad I did.

Jack got to stay home and play his new video game for 3 solid hours.

I got to show my friend Michelle how much she means to me by standing by her side and cheering when Carolyn walked across the stage to accept her diploma. I showed her I've got her back in an uncomfortable situation.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," she whispered to me at one point during the evening.

But I think I do. It meant a lot to me too.

validated

2011-05-24T21:51:00.003-07:00

Tomorrow is the last day of school. Jack brought home every scrap of paper in his desk. His writing folder entertained me for at least half an hour. Here are the two pieces that made my heart pitter-pat.

My first family member is my mom. She is important to me in many ways. She is there when I need help on my homework. My next family member is my dad. He is also important in many ways like my mom. He is there when I am scared. My last family member is my dog. She is important to me because she protects the house. She is there when I want to play with someone.

I think my mom is very wise because she was born before me. She is a teacher at St. Alban's preschool, teaching young 3s. I think she is wise becase she is wise becase she has lived at 6 differnt places at my age! I also think she is wise becase she has a wise mom and dad like me. She thinks of good ideas too. I thinck she is becase her dad is in the air force. That is all the things I can think of.

Mama (or my friend Nikki) told me there'd be days like this

2011-05-23T21:12:00.002-07:00

Days that Jack would know how to poke and prod at my most sensitive spots. Today was one of them.

"I have more fun at Daddy's."

"I wish I was at Daddy's right now."

"Could there be one night a week when you and me and Daddy could all sleep in the same house? Maybe once a month? I would like that so much."

I know this is hard on him, and I know I'm doing the best I can. But sometimes the two don't reconcile. I know he's having a good time with his daddy lately because DH plays with him, and I don't. I'm not much of a player, not even at the preschool. That's just not how I relate to kids. If he wanted to read together, or draw, or craft, or cook, I'd be all over it. Maybe I need to make more of an effort to relate in his preferred modality, or is that just trying to be something I'm not?

I'm the enforcer, because Jack's with me every afternoon after school. Homework and piano practice are my duties. Read for 15 minutes. I'm nursing my hurt feelings here when really I should be appreciating the fact that Jack immensely enjoys the time he spends with his daddy. Before the separating DH barely spent any time with Jack. Now, when Jack's with him, DH is fairly dedicated. That's a good thing.

email received

2011-05-22T07:22:00.004-07:00

Last night I received this email from the room moms for Jack's class.

Hello All,

The end of the school year is upon us! We would like to thank all of you for your support and involvement over the last year. We couldn't have done it without all of you. Just a few last minute things for the end of the school year:

This Wednesday, the room parents will be providing lunch for all the students in the class (pizza, Eegee's and water), so no need for your student to bring a lunch that day. There is no need to send your child with money, as this will be covered by our class fund. After lunch, the children will then go out for lunch break on the playground. After break, Ms. G has several fun activities planned for the children for the remainder of the day. There will be no wet play or field trip, so no need for special attire. (Unless your child is feeling festive ). Ms. G would like to spend this last day with just her students, so please plan on staying home during the party.

Though lunch is provided, please feel free to send in any goodies you'd like to share, as long as they are store bought. (Popcorn, chips, candy, brownies, cupcakes, etc). We'd love to have them! If you choose to send something in, please let us know so that we avoid having too many of the same thing.

We will be purchasing a gift card for Ms. G from the class fund to thank her for a wonderful year. Other gifts are more than welcome, and will surely be appreciated, so don't hesitate to contribute!

Thank you all again, and best wishes for a fantastic summer!

Well. I didn't do anything supportive or involved (except write the $50 check for the class fund at the beginning of the year) so I know the kudos aren't meant for me. I'm not part of that "club". But the three room moms are, because they enjoy the privilege of providing the party for the kids. The party the other parents paid for but to which we aren't invited. Feel free to contribute more, though, because obviously these children don't have enough. Oh yeah. Our contributions to Ms. G's end-of-year gift card weren't sufficient either, hence the need to contribute other gifts that will be more than welcome and surely appreciated.

No number of "pleases" and "feel frees" suffice to mask the disdain evident in this communication.

thrilled by thrift

2011-05-21T22:00:00.003-07:00

When I started this blog around 5 years ago (really?) I intended only to document my thrifty finds, hence the url thrilledbythrift. Not long after I started it, I shifted the focus to encompass most everything, hence the title chock-a-blog. Today I return to my thrifty roots (though I never left them).

This morning I went to St. Vinnie's for $1 clothing day. I bought two t-shirts to refashion but the real steals weren't clothes. Check it.

I can't wait to show you what I have planned for these. Two of them priced at $2.00, one priced at $1.50. Well worth $5.50.

I've been looking for a new handbag for a while. The one I've been carrying was purchased (full price) for me by my mother-in-law, and carrying it has become burdensome. I love the colors, shape, and material of this one. It's made of the same kind of stuff wet suits are made of. It fits my things perfectly. I gave $3.25 for it.

And this is the best part.

mompower

2011-05-20T06:30:00.003-07:00

Married couples in conflict don't always provide what's best for their children. Further, according to Philip Cowan, Ph.D., professor of psychology at the University of California at Berkeley, the way husbands and wives treat each other has as much impact on their children's academic confidence, social adjustment, and behavior problems in school as the way the parents treat the children. A high-conflict marriage or a marriage that isn't working can negatively affect children in a way that might never happen in a single-mom family.

---Peggy Drexler, Ph.D., Raising Boys without Men

DH and I were rarely in open conflict. But we didn't treat each other well. We didn't cherish each other as we promised in our wedding vows. I can't say, exactly, why that is. I know I tried over the course of our 16 year marriage. I tried to reach DH, I tried to show him how his decisions affected me. I loved him the best way I knew how until his unresponsiveness caused me to shut down and implement other coping mechanisms.

Financial distress may have been the catalyst for my decision to end our marriage, but the truth is I'd been subconsciously seeking a way out for years. Two friends have quoted Anais Nin to me, and the quote is fitting:

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

For years I'd subsumed my identity to the marriage and as a result lived but half a life. What does that teach my son? DH and I never openly showed affection, never laughed together. For the past several years I've barely been able to look him in the eye. We didn't celebrate each other or seek out the opinions of one another or rely on each other for support. In our family Jack would learn that that's what a relationship between husband and wife looks like. I don't want him to learn that.

What I want Jack to learn is that happiness comes from within. Money, possessions, and relationships do not bring happiness. Each of us is complete unto ourselves. How could I teach him that while allowing a bad marriage to mask a big chunk of the best of me?

gone off the deep end

2011-05-19T17:16:00.003-07:00

Looking back over my posts it seems I've jumped with Jesus off the end of the spiritual dock. I don't mean to get all Jesus-freaky. Usually I practice my faith quietly. But if it's helping see me through this tough time of my life I guess it's OK to proclaim.

I finished reading The Shack by William P. Young. Though it didn't profoundly change my perception of the Holy Trinity, it helped illuminate the truth that I was created to be wholly and unconditionally loved. That I am wholly and unconditionally loved. In light of my failed marriage and society's expectation that I remarry (because single people are somehow incomplete), that's a real comfort.

as if it weren't enough

2011-05-17T22:27:00.004-07:00

As if foreclosure, bankruptcy, and divorce weren't enough, I'm considering a new job. I've had a few promising interviews (OK, two interviews total, but both were promising). The interviews have shown me that I do have something to offer to a potential employer, and that any employer would benefit from hiring me (or keeping me).

I've again turned to the library for help. I chose a book called 48 Days to the Work You Love by Dan Miller. When I picked it up I didn't know I was choosing a book with a decidedly spiritual bent. Reading it in conjunction with The Shack by William P. Young is really rocking my devotional world. The Introduction ends with this little contract:

Believing that God created me for His purposes and scheduled every day of my life, I commit the next 48 days to a new clarity and a plan of action for moving into God's calling for me.

Miller's observations on success provide a useful way to compare and contrast my experiences with DH's:

Each area of our lives requires us to make deposits of success. Tiny withdrawals with no deposits will lead to physical, spiritual, and emotional bankruptcy in relationships, jobs, and finances.

I invested time and energy in family, hobbies, exercise, reading, and friends. I maintained a positive cash flow, even when there wasn't a position for me last summer at the preschool. DH invested time and energy in work and family. His efforts resulted more often than not in the "tiny withdrawals" Miller talks about. I banked my efforts and now that I'm facing bankruptcy and divorce I can cope. I have friends. I have interests. I've cashed in on my investment, and it's helping me cope with crisis.

Success is not a future event---it is the "progressive realization of worthwhile goals." Thus, either you are successful today or you are not.

I am successful today.

Hallelujah. Amen.

Infant of Prague

2011-05-16T20:47:00.002-07:00

The week before the foreclosure we culled our belongings. Jack was meticulous in this endeavor. He considered each item carefully and thoughtfully. I, on the other hand, was willing to discard most anything without a second thought.

We were clearing the type trays hanging in the hallway. "Mommy, do you want this?" Jack asked about each miniscule item. To each query I invariably replied, "No, thanks." After five or so minutes of this, Jack questioned my dismissal of a particular item. "Are you sure, Mommy? You don't want this?"

"No, I don't want it."

"But it says, 'Oh Jesus, who said, ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened.'"

"Yes," I amended my previous reply. "Yes, Jack. I want it."

He plunked the heavy little coin in my hand and I turned it over to see an image of The Infant of Prague. I put it in my pocket and I've carried it in my pocket ever since.

The innocence of youth once again overpowers the cynicism of adulthood.

Divine Infant Jesus, I know You love me and would never leave me. I thank You for Your close Presence in my life.

Miraculous Infant, I believe in Your promise of peace, blessings, and freedom from want. I place every need and care in Your hands.

Lord Jesus, may I always trust in Your generous mercy and love. I want to honor and praise You, now and forever. Amen.

It's easy to be bitter

2011-05-15T20:36:00.003-07:00

This month I lost my home to foreclosure. This month Chas celebrated his 20th birthday, and his family (I'm assuming) has seen fit to wish him well on several billboards around town.

Rudimentary research reveals that billboard advertising costs run anywhere from $700 to $3000 a month.

Even at the lower end of the billboard advertising cost spectrum, the price of three billboards would cover my rent, utilities, and gasoline for three months.

It doesn't seem fair.

Today I took Jack to an end-of-the-year swim party at the home of a classmate. Newly remodeled, that home could have engulfed my apartment 5 times over. Everything looked high-end and the parents were the type of overachievers that scare me. I was talking with one of the dads, a guy I've had a few really interesting conversations with, who knows my situation. We were sort of gazing around, taking it all in, and I said, "It's easy to be bitter." Rob was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "You can't buy happiness. And you can't resent them for what they have."

He's right. He and his family struggle, too. He said he wouldn't trade his for theirs, and I agree. They wouldn't want mine anyway.

Tanque Verde Guest Ranch

2011-05-14T14:22:00.002-07:00

Way back in February my bestie Ana bought a Groupon for a one-night stay at Tanque Verde Guest Ranch. When the night of our reservation finally rolled around, I was reluctant to go because so mentally zapped by the previous two weeks. But I packed my little bag, picked up my little friend, and made the little drive out to the Ranch.

We checked into our delightful little room around 5:30. Just before we left for the dining room I saw a couple who looked familiar to me pass by our window. Sure enough, it was my friend Charlie and her husband Al. They'd bought the same Groupon. It was nice to see her. Reminded me that we need to catch up, but this weekend wasn't the time. She was there to enjoy some private time with her husband, and I was there to enjoy a respite with my Ana.

Dinner in the dining room was a soup and salad bar affair with choice of entree. I ate pork medallions with sage rubbed apples and citrus black beans; Ana ate herbed seared halibut with mashed purple sweet potatoes. We shared 4 desserts from the buffet.

After dinner we meandered back to our room to change into our suits for a soak in the hot tub, which we had all to ourselves. Slept nine badly needed uninterrupted hours after that.

After a buffet style breakfast we explored the grounds. Here's Ana enjoying the birdsong at Lake Corchran.

My thumb enjoying the view.

We walked a nature trail north of the lake, where we sat for a bit on a bench, looking out at the saguaro-studded Santa Catalina foothills.

There's a quaint little museum on the grounds. Photos of the proprietors and guests circa 1950.

Perfect little 18 hour escape. Just what I needed.

my brain is mush

2011-05-13T16:56:00.004-07:00

what I've done over the course of the past 10 days, in no particular order:

saw the doctor twice, once for allergies and horrible hives, and once for my annual exam
discovered that DH was unsuccessful in negotiating with the bank, and we had one week to remove our possessions from the house before foreclosure
interviewed for two jobs
dined with Mom at Tavolino
shared a sushi boat with Mom and Mandy at Ichiban
enjoyed sandwiches and sides at Buffalo Bistro, again with Mandy and Mom
ate surf and turf at Canyon's Crown with Mom and Jack
set up, coordinated and celebrated, and tore down Mother's Day Tea at the preschool
participated in the Schumaker Elementary School Spring Craft and Rummage Sale
went to handbell rehearsal
rung handbells with the choir at the church service on Sunday
hosted a playdate with one of Jack's friends
took 3 days off work
took Jack to piano lessons twice
took Jack to choir practice
weathered a conflict with my boss
cleared the house of possessions (some of which I sold at the rummage sale; some of which I absorbed into my apartment; DH put some in storage and moved some into his new digs)
did what I could to help my sister deal with her anxiety issues
spent an afternoon swimming, watching Pirates, and looking for BBs with my nephew Brazey
removed all personal possessions from my storage closet so Comcast could install new wiring
cried
slept
ran a mile at a pace of 7.4 miles an hour

I'm tired. Tonight I escape for a few hours with my bff to Tanque Verde Ranch. I hope we swim, sit in the spa, talk and talk, and sleep. And I might cry. I'm thinking I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but that might be just the glimmer of false hope.

reduced to tears

2011-05-11T07:04:00.003-07:00

Lisa Latte walked into my cafe. When I clicked on her to serve her coffee, her little word bubble popped up. She said, "I wish I could be like you and do what I love for a living."

I wanted to cry.

four scenes

2011-05-10T20:21:00.003-07:00

I've been watching movies this weekend and everything seems to remind me of losing my home to foreclosure Monday, May 9, 2011. The Kraken is attacking The Pearl, and Captain Jack Sparrow orders his crew to abandon ship, because, after all, "She's only a ship, mate." Aunt May is packing up her belongings because the bank is foreclosing her house, too, when Peter comes over and tries clumsily to make up after he confessed his hand in Uncle Ben's death.

Spiderman 2 boasts one of my favorite scenes in a movie. Spidey meets Doc Ock at the clocktower but their battle descends to an elevated train below. Doc Ock forces a choice on Spidey: save the disabled train and all its riders from plummeting off the unfinished tracks, or save MJ from I don't remember what. Of course Spidey chooses to stop the train, the effort of which causes him to faint dead away. Just before he slumps off the front of the train, sans mask mind you, the good people whom he's just saved gently lift him above their heads and pass him to safety in the back of the train. They lay him on the floor and marvel at his youth. When he comes to, they promise to keep his identity a secret. Then, when Doc Ock comes after Spidey again, those Average Joes stand up to the mechanical menace. It's an act of certain bravery.

When I think of the cinematic scenes that genuinely move me, I find they have something in common. The stories usually center on a strong but flawed protagonist, and the scenes that move me most focus on that protector in a moment of vulnerability. The Abyss. Schindler's List. Gorillas in the Mist.

The Abyss. Lindsey and Bud have to make it from their failing sub to the rig, but there's only one diving suit. Bud's the stronger swimmer, so he agrees to don the suit and drag Lindsey to the rig. They know she'll die on the way to the rig but hope her body will go into deep hypothermia and she can be resuscitated on the rig. Bud drags Lindsey's body through the water and up onto the platform in the rig and starts resuscitation, defib, everything. She doesn't revive. But he won't give up on her. "Come on, breathe! Goddamn it, you bitch, you never backed down from anything in your life...now fight!" And he slaps her, hard. She sputters back to life and from that moment on things between them change. For the better.

Schindler's List. I only watched it once in my lifetime because it was too painful to watch again, but there's a scene toward the end where Oskar laments the loss of all those souls, and what he could have done to save them but didn't. "This pin. Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would have given me two for it, at least one. One more person. A person, Stern. For this. I could have gotten one more person … and I didn't! And I … I didn't!"

Gorillas in the Mist. Dian Fossey may have been a total nutjob, but she was passionate about her work. Sigourney Weaver's portrayal sets my jaw, or at least I wish it did. She did everything she could to save those gorillas, and in the end she couldn't do it. When the poachers killed Digit she turned to Sembegare, her tracker, and moaned, "They took his hands. They took his hands." Unthinkable.

A strong character in a moment of vulnerability. That's me, right now, in this life.

last week's craft fair

2011-05-07T06:34:00.004-07:00

Booth at the Tucson Folk Festival, Presidio Park, Saturday April 30 and Sunday May 1. Sold over 50 magnets and assorted pendants and earrings.

I thought I worked hard that weekend, but it was a breeze compared to what today will bring.

world news

2011-05-04T15:31:00.002-07:00

More often than not, any significant event in my life is accompanied by a world crisis. Three days after the birth of my son, Al Qaeda hijacked four jets and forced them into the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania. I have a child's grasp of what happened on 9/11, simply because I was only three days post-partum.

Many, many years later, I was struggling to extricate myself from my relationship with my son's father when earthquakes devastated Haiti. All kinds of natural disasters ensued in 2010, but I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I barely noticed them.

The day I signed a lease to move out of the house we've occupied for 12 years, my classmate Gabby Giffords was shot in the head at a Meet and Greet across town. My own grief laid me raw. Her tragedy barely even registered.

Recently Osama Bin Laden was killed in Pakistan. I don't even know how to feel about that because I'm clearing this house of anything I wish to keep pending a trustee sale on Monday. Osama Bin Laden is dead? Who cares? My house has been foreclosed.

If William and Kate are looking for an unprepossessing little home in Tucson, I know where they can buy one at auction.

(all baby owls think a lot)

2011-04-26T06:24:00.003-07:00

DH and I have been separate for 8 months now. I moved out of the house 4 months ago. I've been doing a lot of thinking, about lots of different things.

Parenting

I'm forever grateful that DH and I were always and remain still on the same page as far as parenting goes. The separation has caused no great struggle there: we support each other in our mutual contention that none of this is Jack's fault and we both love him very much. I won't fault DH in his parenting (except to note that he's not dependable, but that touches every aspect of his life, not just his parenting). Even if I did, there's nothing I could do about it.

The best I can do is examine my own parenting and work on being the best mom I can be, raising the boy I have to honor his potential, become a functioning member of society, and, hopefully, do a little better job at it than his dad and I did.

Am I doing it wrong?

Most of the time I go with my gut. Most of the time I make my own decisions. What feels right for this family of two? Is it OK that we occupy the same space but we're each hooked up to a different electronic device, sometimes for hours at a time? Is it OK that this child of mine thinks fruits and vegetables are poison? Is it OK that more often than not we sleep together on the bottom bunk in this tiny one-bedroom apartment I've rented?

I've turned to the dewey decimal system for some help. Last week at the library I checked out two books: Good-Enough Mother by Rene Syler and Raising Boys Without Men by Dr. Peggy Drexler.

I endured all 1050 pages of L. Ron Hubbard's Battlefield Earth. I've read 76 pages of Syler's Good-Enough Mother and I'm returning it to the library. Nonfiction is somehow easier for me to give up on. First, I'm naive enough that I didn't know Rene Syler is (was?) a TV newscaster, but I should have known just by the jacket's photographs what kind of book I was picking up. On the cover she's all done up, and so are her kids, and they're darling and smiling and perfect. Photos on the back cover show them in more of their smiling perfection, even when Syler is mock-reprimanding her son with a gentle shove to his shoulder.

The premise of the book is a good one: kids are going to present you challenges, and your energy will already be depleted by the demands of a full-time job and a husband, so how do you do the best you can without going crazy? Syler contends that your efforts are good enough. Well, thanks, Rene. But because I found your book in the parenting category of the dewey decimal system, I guess I was expecting more solid advice and less memoir. I get it. Your kids are ill-behaved, but aren't their antics cute, and didn't you show serious aplomb in the way you weathered that grocery store temper tantrum by invoking your "I don't care" mantra? You obviously care more about yourself than your reader. It's classic "Enough about me. Let's talk about you. What do you think of me?"

I'll crack open Raising Boys Without Men next. At least it's penned by "a research psychologist and former gender scholar at Stanford" and reviews reveal it's well-researched. That's what I was looking for when I turned to books on parenting.

Speaking of books on parenting, the title of this post is an oft-repeated line from Martin Waddell's children's book Owl Babies, which in itself is a good book on parenting from the child's perspective. Sarah, Percy, and Bill wake up one night to find their mother is gone. They think about it, wonder where she is, turn to each other for comfort, and ultimately rejoice in their mother's return. After she swoops in, she says, "What's all the fuss? Didn't you know I'd come back?" The owl babies knew it. And I guess that's the best a mother can do. Be there for her kids.

Earth Day

2011-04-22T19:56:00.004-07:00

Today I discovered my friend Mike is a prolific blogger. (Because I'm dealing with a bunch of issues re: platonic relationships with men [that's a different post entirely] I'm proud of myself for calling Mike my friend.) Not only is Mike a champion blogger, he's father of two, primary breadwinner, marathon runner, vocalist and guitarist for local band Lunar Light Collectors---hell, I don't know him all that well so there's probably a million other things he does too.

I learned from reading his blog today that Mike was diagnosed with MS a little over a month ago. I sent him a lame comment, promised to pray for him, then went for a mile long bike ride. Because you don't just process that kind of information with your brain, you process it with you heart and your body, too.

It's Earth Day. I didn't do much to honor the earth today, other than take my travel mug to Starbucks for a free fill up and wear a skirt I made from three different salvaged t-shirts. While biking and thinking about Mike's diagnosis, I drew a parallel between the earth and the body. When our church service follows Holy Eucharist Rite II, Eucharistic Prayer C, we recognize "At your command all things came to be: the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home." Extrapolate: this fragile body, my soul's home.

I thought about honoring my body, how I vilify rather then glorify this vessel God gave me for my use on this earth. How I compare this body to other bodies and find it lacking. This is what my body did for me this week: lifted countless children, swam, scaled a climbing wall, propelled a bicycle, carried me with confidence, strength, and quiet grace through each day.

Mine is a body deserving of my gratitude. So is Mike's. I hope he knows that.

things I lost in the move

2011-02-09T21:05:00.002-07:00

Mid-January I rather quickly moved from the house to a one bedroom apartment. Thanks to family and friends the actual move went surprisingly smoothly, but in the subsequent weeks I notice things missing.

1. The $50 Amazon gift card given me for Christmas from Auntie Em. I'm so sad I lost it. This is in no way a bid for a replacement, Em. You've been so kind to us. Thank you.

2. A $25 apple store gift card given me by Dave to accompany the iTouch I didn't want but he gave me anyway. I can locate the iTouch. It's in the bathroom accompanying Jack's shower. He's a loiterer. I've given him a two song limit for a shower so he washes to Haddaway's "What Is Love?" and Taio Cruz's "Dynamite." I'm embarrassed for him.

3. All but one of my reusable grocery bags. Where did they go? I used them at 99 cents only two weeks ago and since then they've been AWOL. The cashier remarked that my Trader Joe's bags were much nicer than the 99 cents only reusable bags. So I lost them.

4. The Madagascar hissing cockroach. I've been toting him back and forth to school to share with the kids. I went to feed him this morning but didn't find his enclosure where I keep it on top of the fridge (he's in a smaller cylindrical container now, Mom, no longer with his chocolate tortilla). Last I KNOW I had him was last week on the day it was colder in Tucson than it was in Alaska. I remember reminding myself to bring him in from the car or he would freeze. I thought I brought him in. Now I think I may have recycled him. Poor guy.

Tucson Gem and Mineral Show

2011-02-06T20:06:00.004-07:00

Mandy, Doreen, and I were overwhelmed by the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show today.

intrigued by these stretchy picture bracelets

coral roses in various sizes

medium sized protection against the Evil Eye (notice my new cha cha bracelet and the super sized Evil Eye protection in the big bag in the back of the bin)

positive

negative

Bin buys bone

Mandy's obsession

my obsession

Frida memorial

wotd: plenipotentiary

2011-01-01T07:29:00.002-07:00

plenipotentiary \plen-uh-puh-TEN-shee-air-ee; -shuh-ree\, adjective:: 1. Containing or conferring full power; invested with full power; as, "plenipotentiary license; plenipotentiary ministers."
noun:: 1. A person invested with full power to transact any business; especially, an ambassador or diplomatic agent with full power to negotiate a treaty or to transact other business.

What a great word to start 2011. Happy New Year!

stuff

2010-12-28T22:08:00.002-07:00

George Carlin has this great skit about Stuff. All our stuff, bigger house for our stuff, when we go on vacation we take a little of our stuff with us. I'd like less stuff.

I'll be downsizing this year from a 3 bedroom, 1700sf house to something yet to be determined. I need to purge my stuff. I'm not emotionally attached to any of it, but David is. It's a struggle agreeing what to do with the stuff.

In Pillars of the Earth, a novel by Ken Follett about the building of an English cathedral in the mid-1300s, the main characters had practically no stuff. In the Master Builder's family, each member had the clothes on his or her back along with a wooden bowl and eating utensil. Nothing else. Seems to me life would be much easier if that's all you had to keep track of.

at the end of the day you're another day older

2010-12-27T20:59:00.002-07:00

At night when I'm standing at the bathroom sink watching myself in the mirror brushing my teeth, I think about how only 24 hours prior I stood there doing the same thing, and what have I done between then and now? Sometimes I'm crushed that all that time has gone by and I've nothing to show for it. Sometimes I reflect on a day well spent. Sometimes I lament the quick slippage of time, regardless of how I filled those 24 hours.

Then I think of Buddha. Well, only now have I thought of Buddha when I was surfing the 'net for an appropriate quote and came across this one:

Do not dwell in the past.
Do not dream of the future.
Concentrate the mind on the present moment.

So much of what I do is repetitious: brushing my teeth each night; waking in the morning and shuffling out to the kitchen to put the kettle on for coffee; walking the same path with my dog Cassie and the same music on my iPod; driving Jack to school, then backtracking myself to work; emptying the dishwasher; folding the laundry. Even right now, wracking my brain for something to take down here: how many times before have I done this?

None of that matters, really, because here I am right now. Here I am clacking at the keyboard, sprawled on the sofa with Kismet curled against my legs, Jack snacking on pizza on the living room floor while watching Monty Python Season 1 Episode 7 for the fourth time because it's so funny. There's no reason to lament anything, nor even to reflect on anything. The lamentation and the reflection are part of my story, building blocks of who I am.

It doesn't matter that I've done this countless times previously. What matters is my Self, the person who does this now, is not exactly the same person who did this before. Did I pay attention to what happened between now and then? Not always. But I can pay attention right now.

so this is Christmas, and what have you done?

2010-12-25T21:18:00.002-07:00

If you're Jemcina Slender, you left your husband.

You walked out the back door of his rented house and hurried along the alley, shuffling in your house slippers, clutching a black plastic garbage bag of laundry. You rounded the corner and walked through the front yard of the nearest house. You couldn't know it, but inside the man of the house said to his family, "Who's that coming to the door?" When he opened the door before you could even knock, you gathered every ounce of your courage and asked very politely, "I don't want to inconvenience you, but could you give me a ride to the Safeway center? I need to get away from my husband." And when asked, "Is everything alright?" you want to scream "Of course everything's not alright! My life is falling apart and I'm standing here on your front porch in last night's clothes while my daughter rides her bike down the street looking for me and I just need to get away from him" but instead you say, calmly, "A domestic disturbance. Can you give me a ride?" Though you try to control it the desperation in your voice spurs the man to action.

Soon you're in the backseat of a car driven by the man's sister-in-law and he's questioning you: Are you hurt? Do you want to go back? Did you call the cops? Do you have somewhere to stay? The sister-in-law hands you her cell phone but you've only been in town a few days and you hadn't really thought about where you'd go, just that you need to go. The number doesn't come to your head and you dial incorrectly twice, each time apologizing.

You try to make it work, but sometimes it just doesn't.

You're approaching the interstate, riding there in the backseat of the car, finally dialing 911 and requesting transfer to TPD to discuss a domestic dispute. While you're talking with the officer the man's phone rings and soon he's talking to an officer at the scene, an officer who finally responded to your previous call. You are adamantly telling the TPD officer that you have no wish to return, that you'll file a report at the station tomorrow, when you hear the man speaking to the officer at the scene, "She won't go back. I think she's afraid of her husband."

They want you to go back. They think they can mediate the dispute. They're soothed by your husband's lies. They allow themselves to be manipulated by his craftiness, as you once did. But no more. He can tell the children that their mother is slapping dope; he can tell the cop that his wife assaulted him. It doesn't matter. What matters is the tires of this car eat up the road beneath you, transporting you one more mile and a mile more away from him.

You're slightly embarrassed when you can't remember where your friend lives, even more embarrassed when you get there and your friend isn't home. But the man and his sister-in-law offer to drive you somewhere else, to leave you somewhere safe. You can't remember where the bowling alley is but between them they figure it out. Of course it's closed but across the street the Safehouse coffee shop is open. That's as good a place as any. A safe place.

You clamber out of the car, clutching your garbage bag and your purse, relieved that the man and his sister-in-law have sense enough to refrain from wishing you a merry christmas, but instead offer a simple "God bless." The man proffers a tiny post it note with a phone number. He says, "Call me if you need anything. I'll talk to the police. I'll back you up." It's been such a long time since someone's been on your side you almost, almost succumb to tears. Instead you take the paper and say "Thank you" and don't even look back when the car that bore you from your oppressor exits the parking lot.

You don't even look back.

thanks Mom

2010-12-23T21:01:00.008-07:00

Mom sent me a replacement camera so I owe her a photo post. I'm so very pleased with it. Thank you, Mom. So much.

Here Brazey gets ready for our Winterhaven jaunt. Jack wore this hat for years. I daresay he can still cram it on his bean.

The boys at Winterhaven. You can see Dh and I are still civil.

My favorite.

For Mom and Bin.

Soapbubble snowfall.

My kids at soapbubble snowfall. I don't think Jack cared for it all that much.

Brazey at the Wishing Tree.

Evan implores the Wishing Tree sign. I hope he gets his wish.

Gratuitous photo of the cutest bunny ever. Beware that pitchfork, Peter Rabbit!

wotd: lagniappe

2010-12-22T06:27:00.002-07:00

lagniappe \LAN-yap\, noun:: 1. A small gift given with a purchase to a customer, for good measure.; 2. A gratuity or tip.; 3. An unexpected or indirect benefit.

I've replaced the word "bonus" in my vocabulary.

bunny love

2010-12-21T21:17:00.003-07:00

I didn't know. Didn't know I could fall so quickly in love with a critter. Cassie and Kismet have my enduring, unconditional love. I mourned my three year old betta when he bit it. And I was fond of the rats when we had them. But this little guy has won my heart.

Meet Bugsy. He's a three year old mini lop from a friend of a friend. I adopted him as a classroom pet but fell for him myself. Good thing we get weekends.

He's a good little bunny. He spends most of the day in our side yard, hopping underneath the grapefruit tree and nibbling whatever catches his fancy out of the compost heap. When he's happy he's gives a cute little sideways hop with a kick of his heels. When you bring him a treat and he's excited for it he rapidly paw-paws your hand. His soft fur covers a delicate little skeleton. He goes all boneless when petted, he relaxes so deeply.

At the preschool he hops around the classroom, weaving in and out of the children's legs and jumping over their train tracks and block building. He spends much of his time on our little playground. I discovered the depth of my feelings for him, when, on Thursday, one of my coworkers poked her head in our classroom and said, quietly, "Take your children to the window. There's a beautiful hawk perched on the fence out there."

"He's after my bunny!" I dashed from the classroom quick as a wink and chased that raptor away from my rabbit, who sat in the sand chewing on a weed, oblivious to his impending doom.

I don't know what he's done to earn his place in my heart; I just know he has.

top ten movies quoted by me and my sister

2010-12-20T22:22:00.004-07:00

1. Uncle Buck

"I'm Buck Melanoma. Moley Russell's wart."
"You must be a cheerleader. You look firm."
"You ever heard of a tune-up? Heh heh heh." "You ever heard of a ritual killing? Heh heh heh."

2. Vacation

"Real tomato ketchup, Eddie?"
"Eddie says after the baby comes, I can quit one of my night jobs."
"You didn't order the metallic pea?"

3. Christmas Vacation

"Shitter was full!"
"Surprised? If I woke up tomorrow morning with my head sewn to the carpet I wouldn't be more surprised than I am now."
"And why is the carpet all wet, Todd? I don't know, Margo."

4. Raising Arizona

"Turn to the right!"
"Why do you say you feel 'trapped' in a man's body?"
"You ate sand?"
"Everyone leaves microbes and what not. It's your whole goddamn raisin detrah!"

5. Overboard

"My body!"
"Shut up and eat your checkers."
"I was a short... fat... slut?"

6. Aliens

"Well, I can drive that loader. I have a class 2 rating."
"Hey, maybe you haven't been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!"
"I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure."
"Hudson! This little girl survived longer than that with no weapons and no training." "Why don't you put her in charge?"

7. Better Off Dead

"I know how you don't like the fat from fried bacon, so I boiled it."
"Do you have Christmas in France?"
"I tell you somesing is wrong. Zees, zees, how you say? dork-head? is an unleashed sex fiend."
"I've been going to this high school for seven and a half years. I'm no dummy."
"I'm gonna activate your dental plan! Get out of the car!"

8. For Keeps

"When'd they quit putting handles on these sonsabitches?"

9. The Other Sister

"I feel special right now, Carla."
"No blues!"

10. Sling Blade

"It ain't got no gas in it."
"I like them french fried pertaters."
"I can't so much as drink a damn glass of water around a midget or a piece of antique furniture."
"They've got a good double meat burger."

Lessons and Carols

2010-12-19T21:14:00.003-07:00

We opened the door to the sanctuary, where Dr. Keyl was rehearsing the adult choir. "Good morning, Jack," he said to us as we entered. "Thanks for coming so early."

Whoa. Those were words we never heard when we had to get DH to come to church with us. It felt good to be on time. To be where I was supposed to be when I was supposed to be there. It felt good to be modeling for Jack.

A few of us ringers rehearsed the Huron Carol with the women's voices. While we were rehearsing, Alison D helped Jack with his robe and his cotta. At rehearsal two weeks ago Dr. Keyl told me he planned to award the cotta to Jack and two of his choir compatriots. The cotta symbolizes dedication, reliability, and leadership. This is only Jack's second year in choir. I'm so proud of him.

Lessons and Carols is one of my favorite services. "Once in Royal David's City" was the processional hymn, the first verse sung by children's voices only. Today's scriptures were especially dear to me, as they were read by children and adults I've come to know and love through church. Though secure in the warmth and love of my church family, I was distracted. My eyes kept wandering to the door. Through the first reading, the first adult choir anthem, and the second reading. Then it was time for the youth choir to sing, and still DH hadn't arrived. He's notoriously late for everything. I don't know why I still expect that to change.

Jack and the whole youth choir sang "Prepare the Way, O Zion" with precision and strength. And Jack's daddy missed it. But I didn't miss it. I was there. I was there, with tears in my eyes.

Most of the time I chug along like the Little Engine That Could, then some small occurrence like this derails me. For the rest of the service I cried through all the anthems and thanked God for the release. I sing the songs and learn the lessons, sometimes unexpected. And some lessons I never learn.

wotd: replevy

2010-12-18T21:47:00.003-07:00

Feeling rusty, and yesterday's blogging prompt didn't go over very well, so I'm returning to the trusty old word of the day ruse.

I arose before the dawn and cleaned both toilets. I've learned that if I want to be sure it gets done, I have to do it early in the morning or it slips by the wayside. This blogging thing, por ejemplo. If I'd start the day with it I'd probably get it done right more often. Because I've put it off till the end of the day I'm struggling with the words, my eyelids drooping.

So I cleaned both toilets and loaded the car to haul my wares to my friend Terry's craft sale, which she holds each year at her house a week or two before Christmas. It's 7:30 when I leave the house, coffee mug in hand, earrings and pendants swaying on their new stand in the backseat. As is my habit, I slowed the car as I approached the Goodwill dropoff, which doesn't open until 8:00. A few bags have been left against the doors of the storage unit. I decide to pull in, take a look.

My alter ego has left another load at the drop off.

At first I pretend to leave a bag of my own because an elderly dude is walking his three Maltese a mere 30 yards away. But as I peek in the first bag there at the dropoff door, my heart skips a beat. Beautiful Hot Kiss black wedges, size 9, barely worn. Beneath that, a green down vest from H&M, then a size M three-quarter sleeve purple T-shirt by Lucy. Elderly dude and his little dogs are approaching. I can barely supress my glee. All pretense abandoned, I simply load those four bags of clothes and two bags of books into the front seat of my car.

No need for Goodwill to replevy my booty; as I was pulling away from the Dropoff one of the bags shifted and bumped the hand holding my coffee cup, thus spilling half its contents across my lap. Punishment enough for my plunder, I suppose. Instant karma.

What does it say about me, that I don't feel all that bad?

If I could trade in my adulthood for a second childhood, I'd...

2010-12-17T21:46:00.003-07:00

commit hara-kiri. Jack often tells me he doesn't want to grow up, and a little boy at school recently told me the same. And to both of them I say, "I'm happier as a grown up than I was as a kid."

I'm obligated to this blogging thing for two weeks, committed to it as my New Habit for the Game On diet I'm doing. Tonight I couldn't think of anything to write and I don't get my points if I don't blog. So I put "blogging prompt" in the google machine and that's what I got. If I could trade in my adulthood for a second childhood... oh, perish the thought!

Childhood was OK but who wants to go back to that state of uncertainty and vulnerability? And who in their right mind would wish to endure high school again?

I'd never want to be a kid again yet I choose to work with kids. I admire kids. We expect them to navigate this world with their limited skills while giving them poor guidance and even poorer role models.

hello again

2010-12-16T21:56:00.002-07:00

after a prolonged absence it's difficult to know where to start. I was going to lean on Julia Cameron but I can't find my copy of The Right to Write and The Artist's Way hits a little too close to my vulnerable core to be of much use right now. Or maybe it's exactly what I need and I'm too chickenshit.

I claim the stressors of my daily life don't affect me overmuch. I keep on marching but the path I tread is narrow. One misstep, one little shove, and I'm plunging into the abyss. I've recovered from my few falls, though, and continue to convince myself that I'm coping well with the changes in my life.

I'm ready for these changes but tired of waiting. Necessity dictates I wait.

In the meantime, I'm pursuing other interests. Recent craft shows have been successful. I've stocked an etsy shop that's selling a few items here and there. DH and I are separated and without the daily strain of that relationship I'm much more relaxed. such a relief to be moving in this direction.

I've got an obligation now to blog daily, at least for the next two weeks. Because I lost my camera entries will be heavily textual unless I post from my extensive photo archives. As always, when I embark on a concerted effort to blog and to write, I hope that effort will rekindle the passion I once felt for writing but have denied for so long. They say the average smoker will try to quit at least six times before experiencing successful smoking cessation. I don't smoke. I just dream of writing.

Let Yourself Listen

2010-10-18T16:01:00.003-07:00

Writing is about getting something down, not about thinking something up.... Once writing becomes an act of listening instead of an act of speech, a great deal of the ego goes out of it.... We can either "think of something to write about" or we can write about what we happen to be thinking about.

Initiation Tool

This tool encourages you to lighten up and stop taking writing so seriously that it is frightening.... Tell the storyteller five things you'd like to hear stories about.

Post-apocalyptic second coming
Lesbian prostitute in Victorian London
Steampunk Western involving culture clash
Terrorist invasion of preschool where President's daughter attends, heroic actions of preschool teacher who outwits the terrorists and saves all the kids, except maybe that one mean one you know will bite it from the beginning
Quest story centering on a woman, in the tradition of The Talisman, Earth Children, Outlander, etc.

Let Yourself Write

2010-10-17T06:46:00.003-07:00

When people undertake writing, it is often not with the agenda of writing but with the agenda of "becoming a writer." ... The bottom line, the fact that the act of writing makes you a writer, barely enters the equation at all. Instead, we come up with ideas like "Real writers are published," or "Real writers make a living from their writing." In a sense, we are saying, "Real writers get validation from others that they are writers."

This essay is weak. That was my initial thought. A weak exercise. I gave myself permission to skip it and planned a blog entry about how grown up I am now, that I can merrily neglect the assignment because I recognize it for the busy seatwork it really is.

Reality: The assignment isn't weak. I struggle with it. It's easier to skip it than to work through it. Ah, hell. Here goes.

Step one: What are your hidden associations with the term "writer"? Fill in the following as rapidly as possible.

Writers are published.
Writers are passionate.
Writers are critically acclaimed.
Writers are better informed than me.
Writers are bottomless wells of creativity.
Writers are organized: they make plot outlines and character summaries, write easy rough drafts that they spend hours perfecting.
Writers are members of writers' groups that buoy them up.
Writers are in tune with humanity.
Writers are confident in their abilities.
Writers are up on my pedestal.

Step two: Convert the negative associations to positive affirmations.

Here's where I struggle. Writers have what I don't have and could never hope to attain. Think of the Greek Gods: the perfection of ideals. Real writers appear to me a pantheon of gods: Margaret Atwood is Zeus; John Steinbeck is Hera; Stephen King is Hades; Cormac McCarthy is Ares; Mo Willems is, ah hell I don't know who he is but he's up there too, along with Luis Alberto Urrea, Anne Lamott, Sarah Waters, Jodi Picoult, Ursula LeGuin, the myriad other authors I read and respect. There's no way I could occupy the same space.

Only I have occupied the same space. I sat in the same room with Urrea not 12 months ago at the Tucson Festival of Books. I'd just read In Search of Snow and it floored me. And there he was, sitting on the edge of a plastic 6-foot table, talking easily about his own work, the work of other authors, and answering questions from aspiring writers about their work. Halfway through his talk I realized I was sitting next to his wife. Regular people, not Gods.

The struggle: Writers have what I don't have and could never hope to attain.
Convert: I am a writer. I have what it takes and I can attain a measure of what my most admired published writers have attained.

I think that's what I'm meant to achieve with this exercise. For the sake of completing the busywork, however:

Writers are published becomes Writers write. Applied to myself: I'm writing right now, aren't I?
Writers are passionate becomes Writers are passionate. Applied to myself: The passion is there, it's just been buried for half my life. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes...
Writers are critically acclaimed becomes ... I don't know. This one's hard. Writers are sometimes acclaimed but more often criticized. This assumes the writer's work is published. This assumes publication is the goal of writing. That's where the work lies for this statement, I think. The process of writing in many ways is more important than the product of writing.
Writers are better informed than me becomes Writers pay attention to what's important to them at that point in their lives. I've been carrying so much baggage lately that I'm poorly informed about world events. Survival instinct turns all my thoughts inward, to my own life, so that I didn't even know those Chilean miners were surviving underground until they started coming to the surface this week; I barely knew a thing about Haiti, or Pakistan, or the BP oil spill. The same survival instinct turned me off even to my own thoughts, because if I explored them too deeply I'd find I couldn't cope. I've been body surfing the waves of my own life because I'm too scared to break the surface and scuba dive the coral reef. In a way, writing would force me to break the surface. Before now I wasn't ready to take the plunge. I'm still not too sure.
Writers are bottomless wells of creativity becomes Everyone has blockage somewhere. But "bottomless well of creativity" still seems more positive to me than "blockage." That's not the point, though, is it?
Writers are organized: they make plot outlines and character summaries, write easy rough drafts that they spend hours perfecting becomes Writers have their own methods. Personally, I spend a lot of time rolling ideas around in my head before anything even makes it to paper. And all that rolling around can happen while I'm doing other things, like washing the dishes or walking the dog.
Writers are members of writers' groups that buoy them up becomes I am a member of a writers' group that buoys me up. No matter we haven't met in over a year; I still know I can count on Charlie and Molly and Judy if I want to submit work to them.
Writers are in tune with humanity becomes Writers explore humanity through writing. I can do that, too.
Writers are confident in their abilities. I've got nothing to back this up. It's probably not true, and certainly not true of myself.
Writers are up on my pedestal becomes It's my pedestal, isn't it?

The Right to Write

2010-10-16T08:39:00.003-07:00

My life is set to change whether I like it or not (I like it). There is no doubt this change will be hard. But while my life is changing I might as well revert to the habit that served me well before I got sidetracked.

Writing.

Trouble is, it's not quite like riding a bike. You forget how to do it. You're like the rusty old Tin Man standing in the apple orchard, totally locked up until Dorothy and Scarecrow come along and figure out you need your joints oiled.

Julia Cameron is my Dorothy. Stephen King is my scarecrow.

I've started reading The Write to Right. Again. But this time, I think it's gonna provide the oil I need to get my joints moving.

First essay: Begin. From it I culled these nuggets:

"The first trick, the one I am practicing now, is to just start where you are." (p. 1)
"We are trained to self-doubt, to self-scrutiny in the place of self-expression." (p. 3)
"Most of us try to write too carefully. We try to do it 'right.' We try to sound smart. We try, period. Writing goes much better when we don't work at it so much. When we give ourselves permission to just hang out on the page." (p. 3)
"Guilty pleasure is what writing is all about." (p. 3)

My joints are creaky, but here I am. I'm just starting where I are. Hells yeah, my constant companions are self-doubt and self-scrutiny, but I can't fucking see without my glasses. See how I just expressed myself? Now I'm getting somewhere.

I've worked hard to get it right and as a result I don't write at all. Famous words from my 500-year-old Jedi master: "Do, or do not. There is no try." I think he trained Julia, too.

The Initiation Tool Julia suggests is this: "Take three sheets of 8-1/2 by 11 paper. Start at the top of page one and for three pages describe how and what you are feeling right now." Well, shit, Julia. Do you have any idea how tiny my handwriting is? On three sheets of 8-1/2 by 11 paper I could describe how and what I am feeling for the next three days. I modified the initiation tool and wrote for three full pages in my journal. "This is a free-form excercise. You cannot do it wrong."

"Get current."

Got it.

glorious fiasco

2010-10-03T22:20:00.002-07:00

We got there on time. The choir was still in the sanctuary rehearsing but because the 8 o'clock handbell choir rang we had some rearranging to do. Some of my bells were missing, presumably already in the sanctuary to accompany the psalm. Talked to Joey and Ashley, who are getting married on Halloween but Joey just scored this job with the USDA and they need him to start on October 12. In Fort Worth. He'll get 3 days off for the wedding and then he's gotta go back. Ashley's dressmaker has fucked it up and she's not scheduled to get the dress until 2 weeks before the wedding, which doesn't really leave enough time to get the bustle made. So they're all stressing out and I'm trying to commiserate but I'm not in a comfortable place in my life to do that. Then Martha comes in and says hi. I'm so glad she's ringing with us. She's sincere and has some musical experience and she can't remember my name so I reminded her and we prepared to carry my table into the sanctuary but my table is the LAST to go, not the first. And from there things just continue to decline, in a laughable and uplifting way that almost brings me to tears but doesn't.

None of my bells are ringing because I've got 'em upside down, so distracted have I become. I've lined em up wrong, too, so I'm grabbing the wrong ones and making a God-awful racket. After we've run through half the piece just once Amy C. comes in and asks, "Are you doing Godly Play today?" "Am I?" I say. "Yeah. It's the 10 Best Ways." "If I'm on the schedule I must be teaching but I've got to ring first." "OK. I'll go set it up." She's eating trail mix from a clear cellophane bag. We ring the piece again, this time a bit more successfully. One more time and we have 3 minutes before we play it for real

I rush in to Amy H and tell her I'm sorry I flaked but I'm just not ready to tell the story. She understands completely. "My life is just so..." "I know. It's OK." And it was OK. She's got my back. We talked a bit; I met some of the kids I hadn't met before. Gotta go ring. As I'm entering the sanctuary there's Steve coming looking for me. "I'm coming" I say. "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to teach Godly Play. I flaked out. Sorry I made you wait for me." Steve leaned across the table and said, "Becky, it's OK. We would have waited another 10 minutes for you."

Smile.

Breathe.

The actual ringing was by far the best I'd played it that morning. Barbara complimented me before the choir began processing. Josie broke procession to come over and pay me a compliment. As I looked around the church I saw Dave sitting there in the back pew. When did he arrive? I helped carry the bells out, checked that Amy was doing OK with her 4 kids in Godly Play. Told her, "Dave's here. I'm gonna go sit with him, which is much harder work than what I'd do here." Which isn't altogether true. It's not hard to sit next to him in church. We passed notes back and forth about plans for after church. A baby shrieked and we both laughed. And though I don't want to go back to the way it was, and don't want to try again, and know that we're headed for bankruptcy and divorce, I'm OK with it. Life throws me all these little curve balls and I swing at them the best I can. Sometimes I connect; sometimes it's a pop fly; sometimes a foul. Sometimes I totally whiff it. But I've got teammates, and opponents, and overall the game's congenial. And where the baseball analogy came from I have no idea.

nine years old at 8:10

2010-09-08T05:43:00.003-07:00

9 years ago today

8 years ago today

7 years ago today

6 years ago today

5 years ago today

4 years ago today

3 years ago today

2 years ago today

1 year ago today

Today at 8:10 am. Happy birthday, my most beloved son. I am well pleased.

wherever you go

2010-09-01T18:55:00.002-07:00

You spend the first 20-odd years of your life learning how to live it responsibly. You spend the next 10 years practicing. You're doing pretty good, you think, even after you bring a child into this world just 3 days before the Attack on the Twin Towers. You live in a comfortable home, you have a decent if not perfectly fairy-tale relationship with the man you married, and your child presents to you a new sun around which your planet orbits.

You find your job doesn't mesh well with this new planetary alignment. Where you were once single-minded you become divided and the conflict makes you uncomfortable. So uncomfortable, in fact, that you make a mess of leaving your old job and fall half-assed into a new one. That's OK, though, because your child has become your everything. This new job, while it doesn't pay much, keeps you close to him at his preschool. As he ages and moves into the public school system this job allows you to work during the hours your child is in kindergarten. And first grade. And second grade. And now, third. You like this job. It's rewarding. It still doesn't pay well.

Meanwhile, the man you married has been knocked completely out of his orbit by an unfortunate and ill-timed dismissal from his job. His planet wanders into an asteroid belt and his navigational system fails utterly. And there he floats, adrift and bereft, and you powerless to help him, though you try. And try again. You present rational arguments to get him back on track. You present irrational arguments. You make somewhat idle threats. Eventually, you give up.

For 30-odd years you've lived your life as expected. You've done what you're supposed to do. You have a marriage, a job, a house, a dog and two cats, a kid, health insurance, a retirement fund. You've followed the formula but it doesn't add up to happiness. You trust that eventually it will. When it's Christmastime you consent to drive across three states to visit your sister-in-law and her family. Before you leave you throw a small fit because there really isn't any money for this trip. There really isn't any money to pay the bills.

You allow yourself to be soothed. You allow yourself to acquiesce to a $3000 cash advance on a credit card because the man you married assures you that the closure of a real estate deal is imminent. As soon as the deal closes you'll pay off the credit card. It's alright. It's the first advance you take. You take another. And another. It's alright.

Despite the fact that you know it's most definitely not alright, you've already given up. Where you never did before you now begin to trust Hope. And Hope's insidious tendrils tangle slowly 'round til you are held powerless in her grasp, trapped by trust. Lying there with your eyes closed you look back on this life that you've built carefully, following the rules, doing what's expected of you, trusting the man you married, and you see that the formula has failed you. You see no way out by following the rules. You welcome the wash of desperation, feel its saltwater sting slip the bonds of Hope, dissolving the formulaic rules that held you, slowly transforming your perception. The rules have let you down. Time to break the rules. Time to reset them.

But the man you married? He's still off his orbit. He still trusts Hope. He has convinced himself that the industrious application of the rules will soon yield up the happiness jackpot. He has deflected your arguments and idle threats in the past; he continues to do so. He turned a blind eye to your drowning in desperation. He still doesn't see you. He doesn't see that you've weathered the fall and you've risen again to your feet with your eyes fixed on a different horizon. He doesn't see you are about to release the tether.

You will spend the next 10 years of your life rebuilding.

Day of Reckoning

2010-08-31T07:13:00.002-07:00

Today I won't go to work at the preschool because Dave and I have a 10:00 appointment with a marriage counselor and a 1:00 appointment with a bankruptcy attorney.

I've been unable to concentrate on anything this year because I've been so preoccupied with the detioration of our financial situation and the subsequent dissolution of our marriage. Dave's trying desperately to hold on, and I'm struggling to move on. Today could be pivotal.

no more summer sand castles

2010-08-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

strange platefellows

2010-08-03T08:49:00.002-07:00

Because I'm often too tired at the end of a day to go to the grocery store, I find I'm clearing out the freezer and the pantry. Last week for lunch I disgusted the children when I braised some ancient cod fillets in lemon juice and mixed it with some questionable coconut rice leftovers. Edible but not repeatable. For breakfast this morning I had a braised chicken breast divided between two corn tortillas and smeared with a dab of mayo and sweet pepper relish. Not a combo I would have considered if there were alternatives, but it was pretty tasty.

goals

2010-08-02T06:59:00.002-07:00

Six days ago I griped a bit about exercise and body image and resolved to walk more and eat better food. Since then I've walked 22 miles, which is 10 more miles than I usually log in the same amount of time. Though I haven't been a food angel, I haven't been a little devil, either. I've resisted chips and Cheetos and eaten more fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. I did have a Dairy Queen, though, which is totally fake but totally tasty.

So I got some goals for this week. There's just one week left before I go back to the preschool and I'm ashamed that I haven't attended to some things over the summer. I'd meant to finish up my NAEYC classroom portfolio, as well as plan out afternoon activities for the year (I'm lead teacher between 1:00 and 3:00 for all ages other than kindergarten).

Goal 1: I'm 20 criteria away from completing my classroom portfolio. If I do four each day, I'll be done on Friday.

Goal 2: Each day this week, I'll plan one week of afternoon activities structured around nursery rhymes. Sometimes I can't believe these kids aren't exposed to Jack and Jill, The Three Little Kittens, Little Miss Muffet. By Friday I'll have 5 weeks of planning done. That's enough to get started.

used

2010-07-30T09:26:00.002-07:00

Last Wednesday my Boss came over to my house to---as she texted---"bounce an idea" off me. We sat on the back patio while the kids played on the swingset and a monsoon breeze cooled the air. Boss told me they (I don't know if "they" is Boss and a few cohorts or the Board at large) had decided not to renew the contract of my Colleague, who happens also to be a good friend of mine. Friction between Boss and Colleague is no secret, and honestly the decision to let go my colleague comes as little surprise.

When Boss sat down with me on my back patio, the first thing she said was, "I'm telling you this confidentially, but I understand if some of the information leaks. I know you and Colleague are good friends." Boss told me the reasons behind the decision, offered me my colleague's position, and gave me a time frame for informing Colleague. "I don't envy you that," I said. Boss replied, "Thanks. I'll talk to Colleague on Monday. I don't want to wait until Friday."

Well, it's Friday, and I just fielded a call from Colleague. "I just got fired," she told me. "They could have told me earlier. It's the last day of school. I could have used more time to find a job."

Echoing in my mind were Boss's words, "I understand if some of the information leaks... I'll tell her on Monday." Boss had clearly given me four days to leak some information. I'd cleared Monday evening to be available for Colleague if she needed to talk. When she didn't call, I thought I must not be on her list of support personnel. But she didn't get the axe until today, and I was the first person she called.

What does Boss think of me? I wonder what I've done in the past to be perceived as a person with such loose integrity.

summer job

2010-07-28T14:04:00.004-07:00

Back when the preschool was polling staff for summer employment I declined a position hoping against hope that DH would provide sufficient income for us to live on for 10 weeks. As the school year drew to a close in May I realized I'd made a tactical error. DH's income has been negligible for two years now. We've tightened our belts as tight as they go. I need to work.

question: What can you do for 10 weeks when you have an 8 year old kid at home?
answer: Keep more kids in your home.

I put out my feelers, trolling my friends for interest, and discovered I could provide an economical solution to similarly strapped parents in addition to the drop-in daycare I'd originally envisioned. I thought I might have a few kids one or two days a week, but what happened is I've had at least 5 kids here, every week day, for the last 9 weeks, with one week to go.

People ask, "How's it going?" My stock answer: "I'm exhausted, but it's the best thing I could have done this summer. I have anywhere from 5 to 12 kids in my house anytime between 7:00am and 6:00pm. They're good kids. They play well together. And I'm so proud of Jack. He's shared his things and his mom and his pets all summer. It's great. (mumbled) NoI'mnotlicensed."

It has been great. A real-world solution to a real-world problem. I've just run some calculations and found that I made way more money than I would have during 10 weeks worked at the preschool. At the preschool, though, I work a 35-hour week; over the summer I've worked an average 53-hour week. I'm responsible for these kids for that amount of time, but it's in my home. While they play I clean house, do laundry, make collages, knit, crochet, sew. So that 53-hour work week isn't like real work.

Don't get the idea that I ignore these kids. Through my experience at the preschool I've learned to tune in on several interactions occurring simultaneously while engaging in my own activity. I've always got this radar screen blipping, monitoring. Early on I set the expectation that they treat each other with respect, treat my home and my pets with respect, and beyond that they're free to do pretty much whatever they want. I provide materials; they provide imagination.

Some kids spend 10 hours a day at summer camp or daycare, shuffled from one activity to another, unable to make their own decisions about what they do and when they do it. Part of my decision to provide care in my home was financial: I didn't want to pay someone else to watch my kid while I worked. Part of my decision was emotional: I wanted Jack to have the kind of unstructured summer I remember having as a kid.

I wanted to see other kids have that experience, too. I like to think that's what I've given them. Summer at home.

ouch

2010-07-28T09:50:00.004-07:00

This whole body image thing is so artificial. The skinny body the media promotes is impossible to attain without constant food monitoring and constant exercising. Exercise, as we know it, is completely artificial. Forty minutes of cardio, 20 minutes of toning, 20 minutes resistance training, target different muscle groups on alternating days. The right shoes, the equipment, the energy bars, the electrolyte replenisher.

I want life to provide our bodies' exercise needs. You walk because you have to get from Point A to Point B. You tone your core muscles while carrying with you the things you'll need when you get there. Your job requires you to use your body and not just your brain. That's not what life is like. When your body faces what should be an everyday challenge, it's often unable to respond.

Last night I picked up a giant load of books and other stuff from a freecycler in a second-story apartment. I carried 3 50+ pound boxes of books down 20 stairs, then helped carry 2 more even bigger boxes. I did it, but paid the price. Nothing torn or broken, but lots of muscles tender and sore: biceps, hamstrings, lats. All my nerves aquiver. And my head hurts.

What would it take for my body to be able to face that task without incapacitating myself for the next few days? Weight training? I don't know. I'm not convinced that exercises done in the gym replicate the work we no longer do in every day life.

sick and tired

2010-07-27T06:21:00.001-07:00

Same morning. Same songs. Same route. I've been thinking about body image, health, and media sabotage; personal goals or lack thereof; negative versus positive energy. I've been channeling way more negative energy than positive energy. Rather than bitch about it, which is what I'd planned on doing, I'm instead allowing that negative energy to attract its opposite. Like the monsoon thunderheads rolling in from the northeast, I feel that positive energy on the horizon.

Maybe it's just lightning and thunder. Maybe it's the climactic change that ends the drought.

first
Each morning on my walk I think to myself, "I could walk forever." But I don't. I walk my usual 2 miles and then go home, park myself in front of the computer, and fritter away 20 minutes or more playing "just one more round" of Pathwords. So I'm gonna walk. Today I walked 2.04 miles. Tomorrow I'll walk 3.5 miles. Gradually I'll build to 10 miles or so, time allowing, of course, until one Saturday morning I'll walk to my sister's house (16.7 miles). Maybe one day (or three) I'll walk to my parents' house (138 miles). Don't freak out, Mom. It's just a crazy hair.

second
I don't feel good about my body. I often feel powerless around food. My BMI edges toward overweight for my height. I eat a lot of junk, often without thinking about it. I'm making a sincere effort to stay away from processed and instead eat real food. See what happens.

in conclusion
I could just be feeling crummy. Maybe when the moon wanes, when my hormones cycle back to normalcy, when I no longer have all these kids in my house and I'm able to jump in the car and go somewhere whenever I please... maybe I'll feel better then. Maybe I don't do any of this stuff.

Maybe I do.

summertime rolls

2010-07-21T10:13:00.003-07:00

Fell into
A sea of grass
And disappeared among
The shady
blades...
Children all
Ran over me
Screaming tag!
You are the one!
---Jane's Addiction

There's just 2-1/2 more weeks and I'm back to work at the preschool. All summer long I've watched kids at my house, usually 10 hour days, and I'm about exhausted. Truth is, though, it's not hard work physically. They do most of it themselves. I just provide a place for them to play, sacrificing my house and my sanity. Sometimes I mediate disputes but often I just listen as they work it out themselves. My house is cleaner than usual because I vacuum and clean the bathrooms every day after they leave. But really, I have a lot of time to work on projects, like this one:

T-shirt skirt fashioned from three extra large t-shirts cut in trapezoids sewn together to a waistband with a drawstring.

A few things I don't like about it: I cut it too big but I tend to wear my clothes roomier anyway, and where 4 seams come together on the hips it's a little poofier than I'd like. But I've got a large stash of T-shirts with which to try again. Since it took me only an afternoon to make it I think I'll have time to make another (two or three) before the summer's over.

My biggest helper and I are also attempting a lemon meringue pie completely from scratch, for me to take to book group tonight. We're meeting to discuss The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Vishwanathan. I tried to come up with something Indian that I could make, but the ingredients were all exotic and I don't have time (or energy) to hustle my bustle out to LeeLee's Supermart. So I've defrosted the last of the lemon juice from our tree, and Kerry and I mixed together a pie crust this morning that we have yet to roll out, bake, and fill. But I've got all day while the kids play.

purple

2010-07-20T09:31:00.001-07:00

Japanese eggplant in the garden

$2 GO flip flops, $1 fun fur

who knew?

2010-07-14T15:16:00.001-07:00

I write like
Daniel Defoe

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Maybe I should read him.

Happy Birthday, dear Pizzie

2010-07-02T21:26:00.004-07:00

Because Kismet has somehow earned the moniker The Big Fat American Piz, we decided we should celebrate her birthday on the Fourth of July. We had a Piz Party on Friday, July 2.

We kicked off the morning with cat head biscuits, which I dubbed Pizcuits.

They looked the same coming out of the oven as they did going in, as they were little more than flour, salt, and water.

But (most of) the kids liked them, anyway.

Cassie had her Pizcuit in her kong.

Then we baked cakes. When they cooled we cut them, arranged the pieces, and frosted the cake Pizmet-style. Then we sang Happy Birthday to The American Piz.

Cassie enjoyed her cake, too.

blanket for baby Sawyer-Sugiyama

2010-06-28T10:27:00.004-07:00

I knit a baby blanket for my friend Tamzin (who is 39 weeks 7 days pregnant and ready to not be) in a simple basketweave pattern with a seed stitch border, begun on 04/09/2010 using Caron Rhapsody in colorway Summer Rose on size 8 needles and finished on 05/24/2010.

Silly me, I bound off a full skein short. Of course it doesn't bother Dolly any, and I don't think it will bother Baby Sawyer-Sugiyama any, either. I meant for it to be a smaller, lovey kind of blanket.

I met Tamzin through my book club, which has been meeting monthly for 10 years now. (I took a hiatus of several years and just recently returned.) When a member has a baby, we regale her with a baby book shower. I gave Tamzin a copy of Margaret Wise Brown's The Important Book and included a special page in the back.

when life gives you lemons...

2010-05-22T05:13:00.000-07:00

signs of summer

2010-05-21T07:13:00.002-07:00

purple prickly pear blossom

playground creosote

backyard dove nest

wotd: baksheesh

2010-05-21T06:49:00.002-07:00

baksheesh \bak-SHEESH\, noun:: 1. A gratuity, present or tip.; 2. A gratuity, tip, or bribe paid to expedite service.
verb:: 1. To give a tip.

That's just a damn cool word. No longer do I over-tip. Now I over-baksheesh.

wotd: plucky (inspired by Kcookski)

2010-05-20T21:44:00.003-07:00

plucky \PLUHK-ee\, adjective:: 1. Having or showing pluck or courage; brave.
Origin:: Plucky is originally boxing slang from the 1800s, from the meaning "heart, viscera" as that which is "plucked" from slaughtered livestock.
Application:: The word I use to describe myself in the context of my summer undertaking: the care of children in my own home. Others prefer to describe me as nearsighted, foolhardy, suicidal, overly optimistic... By the end of the summer I may be experiencing the word's origins. But today, with my first day of in-home care for 13 children a whole week away, I'm plucky: courageous, excited, kamikaze.

wotd: moil, brought to you by moillusions(dot)com

2010-04-23T21:17:00.003-07:00

moil \MOYL\, intransitive verb:: 1. To work with painful effort; to labor; to toil; to drudge.; 2. To churn or swirl about continuously.
noun:: 1. Toil; hard work; drudgery.; 2. Confusion; turmoil.

"random illusion" from moillusions. Do you see the portraits?

wotd: wastrel

2010-04-22T07:21:00.002-07:00

wastrel \WAY-struhl\, noun:: 1. A person who wastes, especially one who squanders money; a spendthrift.; 2. An idler; a loafer; a good-for-nothing.

As if. I seem to have so much to do, there's just no opportunity to squander time or money.

wotd: scapegrace

2010-04-19T17:35:00.001-07:00

scapegrace \SKAYP-grayss\, noun:: A reckless, unprincipled person; one who is wild and reckless; a rascal; a scoundrel.

We manage to get in the car for the drive to school. Me: purse, lunch, knitting that I never get to do on my lunch break, clipboard. Jack: backpack, homework, lunchbox, water bottle, cereal for extra breakfast. As we pull through the first light on the way to school, Jack's voice from the back seat: "Mommy? Um-uh, I ate two pancakes and that should be enough to fill me up, but I still feel hungry. Actually, my stomach hurts. It feels not like hungry but like throw-up."

I watch him in the rearview, looking out his window and idly munching Cookie Crisp. We pass the preschool on our way. Monday. Light attendance in my classroom. Two other teachers there. Mental calculations. At the second traffic light to his school I put on the blinker for the left hand turn, but instead I do a u-ey. I glance at Jack in the rearview. His mouth hangs open, his hand halfway there with a Cookie Crisp.

"What are we doing?" he says.

"Going home," I reply, passing the little plastic garbage can back to him. "Use this if you have to, OK?"

Back at that first light I call the preschool and tell them I've got a sick kid who only proclaimed his illness on the drive to school. We're going home, I tell them. I'm pretty sure I'll be there tomorrow.

Jack holds the can under his chin, still agog. "Are you going to call my school?" he asks as we pull into the garage.

"Yes," I say. "You feel sick, right?"

He nods.

"Sick enough to stay home from school?"

He falters.

"I know," I say. "I understand. Sometimes it's OK to just take a day off." That's not a belief I grew up with, and I think it's important to teach Jack that he can take the time to take care of himself. "Listen," I say. "Let's go in and try taking a nap, then we'll watch some TV. You won't play any video games today because you're sick." I attempt a wink.

In we go, unpacking what we'd so frantically packed just 15 minutes before. We take our books into the back bedroom where we can cuddle together on the bed with whatever animals will take a nap with us.

Jack fidgets. Sighs.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

"I feel guilty. I feel like I'm going to Hell because I didn't go to school today."

"Well, I don't," I say, relieved to know I'm raising no scapegrace of a son. "I know I'm not hurting anybody by staying home today. We had a really busy weekend and you had all that testing last week and you've only missed one day of school all year. We'll stay at home and relax today. There's no reason to feel bad about it."

We enjoy our day off, watching old Land of the Lost on DVD from the library, reading and snuggling, and eventually taking a 2 hour nap. Even when he has two bouts of diarrhea that validate his day off I can feel his conscience nagging at him all day long. I've got more teaching to do.

It's OK to take time for yourself.

wotd: disport

2010-04-18T12:41:00.004-07:00

disport \dis-PORT\, intransitive verb:: 1. To amuse oneself in light or lively manner; to frolic.
transitive verb:: 1. To divert or amuse.; 2. To display.

The weekend began after a 9-hour preschool workday with a drive to a campus town pho restaurant called Miss Saigon, where I was maybe? meeting with a friend for dinner. Communication breakdown: no friend to meet me there, but I did run into acquaintances I hadn't seen in some time so it was nice to catch up with them.

Saturday morning I treated my best friend Ana to breakfast for her birthday at my favorite Tucson restaurant, Son's Bakery Cafe. Ana had chicken curry and I had pho; Son treated us to an egg roll apiece and a chocolate mountain for dessert. Delicious. Afterwards Ana indulged my thrifty side and spent an hour shopping the dollar racks at St. Vinnie's. That's where I got the giant blue bathrobe pictured in my previous entry.

After indulging me, I indulged Ana by going with her for a manicure. I've had my nails done once before in my life. I felt very self-conscious but with Ana at my side I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

We rounded out the morning with a trip to Frost. We scraped our cups clean. Mine: Alpencaramel; Ana's: chocolate hazelnut.

At home I had but an hour or two before a discernment committee meeting at church. Dolly submitted to a photo session. She looks so pretty on the grey and red IKEA bedding.

I left the discernment meeting early to participate in my preschool's Family Luau, our most important fundraiser of the year. The kids performed songs we learned together, we ate a delicious Polynesian meal, the classes auctioned off various art projects, and parents bid on donations in a separate silent auction. We packed a lot of activity into 4 hours. After that I was beat.

I was so beat, in fact, that I abandoned my schedule for today. I slept in; I didn't do the scheduled arms and abs workouts; I didn't go for a walk. Before church I watched Tropic Thunder and giggled my fool head off. After church I knitted, read my book, and hung out with sister Mandy and family. I didn't intend to disport myself in that manner today, but I guess I needed it.

wotd: transmogrify

2010-04-17T12:34:00.000-07:00

transmogrify \trans-MOG-ruh-fy\, transitive verb:: To change into a different shape or to transform, often with bizarre or humorous effect.

Nothing like paying just a buck for the ability to transmogrify successfully into Cookie Monster.

wotd: pelf

2010-04-15T16:44:00.002-07:00

pelf \PELF\, noun:: Money; riches; gain; -- generally conveying the idea of something ill-gotten.

Today I'm wearing a new-to-me Tshirt, pelf from the Goodwill dropoff. I've blogged about my raids before, so I won't go into detail. But this time it was like a preschool teacher from a parallel universe dropped off all her Tshirts, just so I'd have a summer wardrobe. And just wait til you hear what I'll be doing this summer.

wotd: bloviate

2010-04-14T19:40:00.002-07:00

bloviate \BLOH-vee-ayt\, intransitive verb:: To speak or write at length in a pompous or boastful manner.

Sometimes it's just best not to blog about it.

wotd: ne plus ultra

2010-04-13T19:39:00.002-07:00

ne plus ultra \nee-plus-UL-truh; nay-\, noun:: 1. The highest point, as of excellence or achievement; the acme; the pinnacle; the ultimate.; 2. The most profound degree of a quality or condition.

Utz Cheese Balls. The ne plus ultra of snack foods. (I am ashamed to admit that we polished this off in a mere 5 days.)

wotd: neologism

2010-04-12T19:37:00.001-07:00

neologism \nee-OLL-uh-jiz-um\, noun:: 1. A new word or expression.; 2. A new use of a word or expression.; 3. The use or creation of new words or expressions.; 4. (Psychiatry) An invented, meaningless word used by a person with a psychiatric disorder.; 5. (Theology) A new view or interpretation of a scripture.

Father Sumith, the associate rector at our church, is from Sri Lanka. Singhalese is his first language, English his second, and if I'm not mistaken he speaks a few others fluently as well. He's a small man, with nut brown skin and wavy dark hair. His pastoral care is at the heart of our church. At communion his devotion inspires me, but tickles me too. After we proclaim the mystery of our faith, Father Sumith intones, "We celebrate the memoridemption, O Father, in this sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving."

Memoridemption: the memorial of our redemption.

Father Sumith's neologism is, for me, the heart of worship. The light heart that brings a smile to my face as easy as his.

wotd: dishabille

2010-04-11T22:06:00.002-07:00

dishabille \dis-uh-BEEL\, noun:: 1. The state of being carelessly or partially dressed.; 2. Casual or lounging attire.; 3. An intentionally careless or casual manner.

This afternoon Cassie acquised to model my dishabille, a large shawl I fondly refer to as My Massive Monstrosity. Over the past month I crocheted it using ragtag skeins from my stash. It's meant to ward off the chill of the desert at night after the sun's gone down, and in the early morn before the sun's come up.

I'm quite pleased with it. Cassie is, too.