Also from landscape art installation in Dec 2005, Sonoma, CA. www.cornerstonegardens.com

Photos of landscape art installations in Sonoma, California, www.cornerstonegardens.com

Travel and Friends

It's Christmas day, and I feel like I have been celebrating for six weeks already. Our family is a little more disjointed than ever, and that requires a lot of maneuvering of schedules and locations to create all the pieces so that the puzzle can at least fit together figuratively. As soon as the bell rang on Friday December 17th, I quickly worked together with my teaching assistant to tidy up the room to some degree, and I dashed to the car to drive to the Dallas airport. That day, I flew to Oakland, where some friends of mine picked me up and drove me to their place in the North Bay area of San Francisco. They live in Tiburón, a quaint little peninsula. I used to work with them in Nashville, and I cared for their little boy, who is a total delight, thanks to some well-intentioned training and caregiving on the part of his parents. We spent several days catching up, visiting, eating great food and drinking great wine. We went to Sonoma one day to look around and pulled over to enjoy a beautiful garden art installation, we visited one of the oldest missions in California, ate a fabulous lunch at The Girl And The Fig just off the city square, and then we took the scenic route home through the Napa Valley. Just lovely. After my California visit, I then accepted an invitation to visit a friend I met this summer in Mexico, at his home in Chicago. There were more travel adventures involved in that leg of the trip, but he waited patiently for me and my bag, which arrived even later. We ran errands together on Tuesday, then finished the day off with a great Italian meal at Francesco's Fiore and by tasting some wine at a great wine store called The Cork on our way home. We spent hours talking and enjoying our wine, listening to music. I won a sizeable bet over a disagreement about U2's recent musical releases. I was reminded how much I love Sarah McLachlan and how you should never continue the conversation past the point of exhaustion, no matter how interesting you both are to each other. I have almost finished packing up for my departure to Mexico tomorrow. I am truly tired, and I hope that I am able to get some rest on the bus and hopefully not have to drive too terribly much. Driving is not my friend. Sleeping is. I hope each of you have had a blessed holiday, and I pledge to keep in better touch with all my friends, from all over the world, and from every part of my past in 2005. Love, Me.

Hello, She's Dolly

So I just left a fun little office party hosted by a friend of mine. And I was delivered two tickets to see Dolly Parton tomorrow night in Dallas. Could I be more excited? Probably not. Only if I was going to be able to meet her -- because I think she's so talented and precious. My friend emailed me to tell me that she has set aside my favorite lip gloss (the last of its near-extinct kind) for pickup whenever I can get to it. I had a fabulous dinner-snack and some pretty good wine, and there is a new episode of ER on tonight. I started a new and potentially mindless novel last night which has already made me laugh out loud. Yes, it's "chick-lit". Sadly, I learned today that one of my favourite students might be moving to Houston, which makes me very sad for him and for me, too. I was hoping to spend the rest of this year AND all of next year growing that little boy into a fabulous student. I now know how it is that parents get run over by their precious offspring. He kills me. Today, after I put him into his car, he grabbed my hand and kissed it as I was leaving. I cannot stand it! Am debating whether I really NEED to go wash clothes before going out of town tomorrow or if a sink-wash of key underwear might suffice.

my heart

is fairly accessible to someone who really desires to get to know it. i make it available, honestly and sincerely, and the people who are blessed enough to have the gift of wisdom have historically found their way inside.

Fear Of Being Typical

is the worst fear of all. I slept all the way to 8:54 am today. i woke up, made some Ibarra hot chocolate, some oat bread toast and commenced to making a collage. then i made another. then i decorated the front of a new journal. now i am on my way to volunteer at a 5K run my friend Sally organized to raise money for the school/orphanage she worked at in Mombasa, Kenya. i might have to call this a perfect Saturday.

After The Nightly News...

So, tonight, for the first time since school started, I watched prime-time television (other than Will & Grace and ER, that is. Those are my only regular must-sees. And I stayed up extremely late for me. I was watching television clear through to eleven pee ehm. Apparently, the only people the networks expect to be watching television between 10 and 11 at night are people with bad credit and/or erectile dysfunction. thankfully, at this point, neither situation applies directly to me. I suppose at some point in life I could be a second party to at least one of those crises, but for now, I'm in the clear. it's 11:11 pm, and i love that. sometimes, i capitalize, sometimes, i do not. someone who barely knows me suggested the other day that i write children's books. hmmm. maybe there's something to that...and i can write them in english AND spanish. cha-ching?

Was That A Joke?

Today, at work, a co-worker actually said the following words to me: "Well, I'm just happy because I finally got my baby to be interested in TV." And went on about how until recently, her son would only like to look at books and play. Of course, that meant "that's how I've been able to keep from buying video games for all this time". He only ever wanted to play with his mother. Until she worked really hard to get him interested in sitting down in front of the television. Here, honey, I'll give you your first rock of crack for free. It will be okay. Unbelievable.

J..J...Just Like Dawgs

last evening, i traded stories with other teacher friends, and we were laughing our lips off -- it is absolutely unbelievable some of the things that parents obviously discuss within their childrens' earshot or what they allow them to see in the media. i was told recently that the american pediatric association's official position is that no child under the age of three years old should be allowed to watch television. at all. there goes the baby einstein theory. the truth is that we are born with rounded eyeballs, and they do not begin to flatten out naturally and healthily until we are much older. and that watching television as infants and toddlers forces the eyeballs to flatten themselves out (against nature and their will) in order to compute what is being seen on a flat television screen (now, if you have not invested in the FLAT SCREEN per se, you are not absolved of any guilt here...the old-fashioned screens are definitely more flat than round...so they are bad for childrens' eyes as well). okay. stepping down off of soapbox. there is a television and VCR in my classroom that has yet to be pled for by my students. i hope to not turn them on in their presence for the entire school year. although i am sure there might be a few occasions...i did it twice during last school year. clifford before nap time one day. and winnie the pooh in spanish another day. all for naught. i talked to my sister for an awfully long time on thursday night. it was fun. i miss her much. of course when we lived in the same city as each other, we were horrible at spending time together. how silly is that? and my father is about to move halfway around the world, and i will probably see him more once he's there than i do now, when he lives a mile away. we have all got issues. of proximity and honesty and communication. i ran into an ex-classmate the other day in the grocery store and recognized her face but could not conjure up her name. but i wanted to let her know that i recognized her, so i said, 'didn't we go to school together?' and in response, she called me by name and then offered up her own name so as to save me from embarrassing myself by having decided on the wrong name for her. anyway, she had her child with her, who was as tall as each of us. shudder. i still like to think i look younger than most of the people i keep running in to that are my same age. except for a few days this week, i looked into the mirror and saw a 45 year old woman. who had not drunk enough water or taken enough vitamins or exercised enough. i am certain it is not as bad as i initially perceived, but it had a sobering effect on me. well, i am struggling with whether or not to cook breakfast at home (my inclination) or to wait for my company to wake up and get ready to go out for food. she will likely sleep at least another hour and a half (as she never has the luxury), which i do not resent. so perhaps i will shuffle into the kitchen. i have been awake for 2.5 hours so far, have been reading and drinking english breakfast tea lying on the couch with my snuggly quilt my paternal grandmother made for me in 1979. that is life.

The Power Of An Endless Life

How captivating and powerful is that phrase? I heard it for the first time last night in a bible study that I am doing in the book of Hebrews. It comes from Hebrews 7:16 -- (15. there arises another priest) who has come, not according to the law of a fleshly commandment, but according to the power of an endless life. Wow. Anyway, I was thinking that that phrase would make a great book title, so if Void If Detached does not work for my future publisher, perhaps we will have to take a different route and go with The Power Of An Endless Life. It takes my breath every time I read it. I should be finishing this quarterly assessment that I am working on for work, but I am continually distracted. First by an incoming email. Then by the occurrence of a little idea I had which inspired me to call a friend in California. Then there is this fabulous music I am listening to. And to top it all off, today, there were bestowed upon me two tickets to see one of my all-time favorites, Dolly Parton, in a private suite situation in Dallas -- I'm calling it a birthday present, simply because it falls about two weeks before my actual birthday, and starting a few months ago, I told my friends that seeing Dolly was all I wanted for the big day. I was thinking yesterday that I had saved another idea for a book title, but I, of course, have forgotten it. I will have to consult sent emails as I know I sent it to one person in particular. Oh to have a staff to do these things for me. My life would be much more enjoyable and productive. I met someone recently who is a newlywed, and she is already complaining that she wants her new husband (i think it's been four days now) to let her sleep once she's gone to sleep. Yikes. Long hard road ahead, eh? I am taping Will & Grace in a feeble attempt to force myself to focus on this little bit of work I have to get done. And I have no plans to watch ER until the weekend. Considering they are the only 1.5 hours of television I watch on a regular basis, if at all, I do not feel so pathetic. Am not sure what's come over me, but I am using capital letters which is kind of exhausting. I watched a muy dark film yesterday called In The Cut starring Mark Ruffalo and Meg Ryan. Whew. Muy oscura.

Swaying

Did you know that swaying from side to side actually activates the brain to calm you down? I have been doing these Brain Gym exercises with my students, and I swear it has made for a more peaceable classroom. Of course, it all depends on the day, and it certainly depends on the moon. Lunatic does not start with the Latin word for "moon" for no reason. These kids just go bat guano whenever they are anticipating a full moon, whether they know that are awaiting it or not. I am just listening to Lee Ann Womack's new single, "I May Hate Myself In The Morning", and it is quite beautifully executed. It's good to hear her voice next door to a steel guitar solo again. Right where it should be. And it's a good thing. Why, all of a sudden, am I using capital letters? Good lord, does this mean I am growing up? Without my knowledge? Or even my consent? I am sleepy, and I am afraid that I have missed the "go-to-bed" window that is so very crucial in my life. If I miss the window, it's very likely that you will be reading another entry from me, after hours of failed attempts at sleep, somewhere around 3:30 am. Look for it to be far less coherent. Which should put fear in your heart. I cannot believe it's time to vote for president again. Vote for the best friend of Israel so as to accelerate the rapture and Jesus can just come back and take me home!

What Next?

am in the process of considering what God wants me to do next. is it plannning an exit strategy? is it continuing to do what i do but in a different setting? what are my career options? i am teachable. how important is it to me to do something that really matters in the world? i think very. money is not all that important to me, although i would like to have enough of it to use recreationally from time to time. it is better to keep my creative exploits unencumbered by deadlines and other expectations? perhaps so. does anyone really even care? pray for me.

Urban, Pollock, Picasso, Rothko and More

I am just back from a much-fun 29-hour chick-weekend adventure with my friend LM. we went to see keith urban in concert in the DFW area, and it was an incredible show. if you get the chance, you should check him out on his current tour which goes into november in america, i think. www.keithurban.net. not a sour note played or sung throughout the entire show. very impressive as always. then we went to grab a bite to eat and a drink at humperdink's near six flags and were approached by a selection of men. one man from odessa who was stupefyingly short on words and two others who were quite intelligent, confident and engaging. it is always refreshing to desire to maintain an ongoing conversation with someone. it is official -- i find someone in command of the english language and a broad vocabulary very intriguing and sexy. it is somewhat sad that in saying that is the inherent implication that finding such a person is such a rare occurrence (the exception rather than the rule) that it immediately draws my attention and interest. today, we went to esperanza's -- one of my favorite spots to eat in the fort worth area. then to The Modern -- a beautiful building and stunning collection of modern art -- the second largest only to the MoMA in New York City. i loved it. i find my connection to modern art, for the most part, provokes in me a sense of tangibility and empathy with the artists that it is difficult to muster with artists from ages past. i feel their pain, i suppose. do not get me wrong -- i find a large quantity of what is considered art in the modern era not only intangible but also downright pretentious. and sometimes, i wonder if a piece's entire purpose might not be to make fun of the very art community that is deifying its creator in the process of admiring or purchasing it for their collection. therein lies the beauty of art, i suppose. all for now. going to read my sunday times. and to try to get some decent sleep that does not involve 14 thread count hotel sheets on an undulating mattress in a 20 degree room. wait that was last night. erase.

Anticipation

Sometimes, I wonder if, in anticipation of things to come, we do not waste away the perfectly potentially wonderful moment that we are inhabiting. I find myself completely guilty of this mistake almost on a daily basis. Whether a symptom of having been taught to think on a higher level or whether a symptom of a brain chemical mis-fire, I am committing today to myself to not waste my time or God's time anymore by wondering. I am going to do and make happen. Of course, I have no idea what it is that I am supposed to do or what it is that I am supposed to make happen, but I am at the very least promising to not clog up the messageways with my own intentions. I pause to see if I feel any differently. I am certain that I will feel a burden being lifted fairly immediately. I am taking off my engineer's cap and no longer driving this train. Being, by nature, a more reflective person, perhaps the caboose is more my speed.

Fake

Inauthentic. Disingenuous. That is what I am afraid of being. Yet it seems that our everyday lives are carefully constructed to encourage inauthenticity. Countless numbers of emotionally unintelligent people in whom we cannot confide, who were never cared for and bolstered enough by a significant adult -- parent, teacher or employer -- to be able to not only tolerate but perhaps invite constructive criticism. I am not saying that I am not one of these people on any given day -- downright fragile at times -- but as a rule, I want to be and know and do better, and I cannot be, know and do on my own. Maybe that is why I should continue to do the work I do and work on my own ability to deflect the negative influences of other people and their flawed philosophies. For today, that is where I stand. Maybe this is why I should drink coffee every morning.

Irrational Thoughts

although it should have no effect on me at all, that the office worker who had no idea i was around today felt that it would be alright and socially and professionally acceptable to openly criticize my classroom in a roomful of co-workers, has deeply affected me. i kind of felt like the top of my head might blow off while i was overhearing the other co-worker caution her that i was less than three feet away, though out of sight. a few minutes later, said perpetrator, skulks into the cubicle in which i was inadvertently hidden and greets me, "hi...miss ********". shrouded in a cloak of anti-hypocrisy, i did not even cast her a glance. i just continued doing my paperwork and filing my papers. i was so taken aback at the lack of professionalism, even from an office aide, that i had to focus on the task at hand or i might have launched into a less-than-professional tirade myself. today, for the first time ever, i actually contemplated all of the pros and cons of breaking a contract. seriously. i have skills.

Tonight I Want To Cry

I am listening to a song of this name on Keith Urban's new CD Be Here. It's a good one. If I were dating someone, and we broke up, I would probably put it on repeat and listen to it until the wine was gone. Tonight, while I was out walking three miles, I decided to run for a chunk of it. I don't run. But don't tell my body. I am sure it will get me the message loud and clear tomorrow.

Cookies, Milk, Etc.

does it drive anyone else crazy when people write "etc." like this: "ect."? not the same. i just made some chocolate chip-pecan cookies that resulted less than stellar. partly because i forgot about them and partly because i had two fairly unsavory arguments with customer service representatives at verizon wireless while attempting to enjoy them. upon receiving an almost $200 bill, i contacted the company to question why, even though i had dates/names/quoted figures and specific written instructions on a calling plan change i made last month, they are refusing to acknowledge that "eleanor" did, in fact, speak with me and make a calling plan change in anticipation of my trip to mexico. i am still waiting (after third phone call) to speak with a supervisor. my question is this: what, in fact, was "eleanor the phantasm" doing for the fifteen minutes that i was engaged with her on the customer service line. peeling grapes? i did not invent this web site to vent my frustration with the functionally illiterate in our midst, so i shall not tarry long to complain, but i had to tell someone, and the other friend i called to unload on was trying desperately to celebrate her birthday in a loud restaurant. so i excused her. billing dispute resolution is no way to spend your birthday, anyway. i started reading a really good book today called bee season. it reminded me of how i was 1st runner-up in my school spelling bee in the sixth grade. and how nerve-wracking it was to stand up there in front of the whole world only to spell "piecemeal" wrong. oh the shame and humiliation. i also bought, much to some of your delight, memoirs of a geisha and i know this much is true. both about a million years later than the rest of the reasonably hip literary set. having botched the cookie batch, i will finish my mini-glass of organic, hormone-free milk and get back to bee season. i think i can finish it this weekend. to the detriment of lesson plans and mounds of paperwork, i am sure; but in the end, i shall be a happier worker bee.

The Truth - Not The Cold, Hard Variety

It is not very often that I wake up these days that I do not find myself actually voicing thanks for something that has occurred in my life. One day last week, I even found myself giving audible thanks for having hit a freak dip in the road which caused $426.29 (at least) damage to my car. I am trying to work my appreciation muscle in an effort to somehow always see the bright side. While I do not really consider it my nature to always see the dark side, I do know that I am prone to equate being realistic with being negative. My actual thanks went a little something like this, "Thank you, God, for this little setback since the technicians might find something else wrong with my car while they are in there that can be repaired while my car is still under warranty for a few thousand more miles." That oration did not feel all that ridiculous upon reflection. Yesterday, I attended a Brain Gym workshop, and it was quite enjoyable and informative. It is a bit like yoga for the classroom. So of course, I liked it. Speaking of yoga, I have inadvertently misplaced the two yoga DVD's that I used to own before packing and moving. Of course, that means that they could be in any number of the places that I stopped over the summer. Hopefully, they will turn up soon. I have been kind of craving a little downward dog. Am poaching an egg whilst I write. Have just finished first cup of English Breakfast Tea. Am contemplating how/when I want to go pick up my car at the VW place. I also have a few birthdays to decide how to accommodate. I had a great idea for one of them, but life got in the way. Will it seem like an afterthought if I pull it together after the actual birthday date? Even though I have been thinking about it and planning for it for weeks but just could not pull it together? I do believe that I have nothing else to say right now. Never mind. Yes I do. What is happening to our sense of relationship in this world? I was in a book study group the other day, and person after person was reflecting about how they never take time to stay in contact with their friends. How they do not email them or call them or try to see them. I suppose I am that way a little bit. But conversely, I find myself frustrated because I want to sit around and talk to friends and share and reflect and pontificate, and no one else seems to have the time or energy. Not that I have bountiful reserves of either, but I do wish more people in our world would make genuine efforts to stay connected. I think that our relationships are what feed us and teach us. Maybe therein lies the problem: we do not want to be taught. In order to to crave teaching, do we have to admit that there is something we do not know? Is that too much of a stretching of the humility muscle? Have we become so involved in "reality" programming on our televisions that we are forsaking our own reality and then wondering why we are left wanting more? Is the encouragement of our society to claim rights to everyone else's lives causing us to let our own lives slip silently from our grasp? Something to think about? When did it stop being acceptable for a parent to have an hour to themselves? To read a book, take a quiet walk, listen to a favorite album? Taking time for one's self does not inherently mean that one is stealing that time from someone else. And so what if he/she is taking that time from someone else? A deposit of one hour's time in an emotional tank can yield hours, days, perhaps even months of benefit for everyone in that person's midst, simply because their spirit has been renewed and they have remembered that they, too, are human. I believe that the sooner that we allow each other to have a bad day, to need some time alone, the sooner we will see our relationships flourish in unimaginable ways. Because no matter how much you love somebody, you always need to take time to love yourself.

Place In This World

Am wondering (not out loud this time) if being a part of the public school system is the place for me. Why do I wonder? The expectations of teachers and students, at best, are questionable, and I am beginning to see that if the parents are not educated -- as parents and as educators themselves -- all of the work and expertise in the world is being misspent. Why do I say this? I say it because I am seeing more and more developmentally inappropriate practices in multiple grade levels, but especially in early childhood (and I include PK, K, 1st and 2nd grades in this category...maybe even higher elementary grades). It is quite alarming. I am currently faced with a strange situation in which I have a co-teacher whose point of view is very different than my own. Lots of yelling. Punishment and exclusion. I do not understand it. I know it is the old school way, but it is giving ME high blood pressure. I can only imagine how the three-year-olds feel. I made my first report to Child Protective Services today, to relate a story that a three-year-old has told me over the past two school days about his father having burned him with cigarettes and with matches. I got a call back this same afternoon -- very impressive. Who knows what will come of it, as I am sure that there are no Spanish speaking social workers either, just like there are no bilingual speech therapists or physical therapists or psychologists or doctors or dentists. It's really becoming more and more heartbreaking for me. I wish I thought I was the kind of person who could work on obtaining a Master's degree while having a full time job, but I know that I would absolutely burn out beyond recognition if I even attempted to do such a thing. Must buy lottery ticket, soon. I decided to work on coming to terms with the obvious fact that I am likely never going to fit in with a group of primary school teachers. Our experiences are far too varied and disparate, and I see life as limitless instead of finite and confining. Perhaps when I make peace with that harsh reality, I will be able to guiltlessly move into the next stage. Today, I was wondering if my place might not be in parent education. I was asked to apply for a parent involvement coordinator job by a supervisor this summer, but I had already signed a contract...blah blah blah. I am tired, and I want to read some before falling asleep. Have overslept the past two days and am not sure what that indicates. Innate laziness. Boredom with daily routine. Reluctance to go to bed. What? I think I have PMS. No other apparent trigger for this doldrum.

Pain In My Neck

i lifted a bunch of weights on thursday and have had a wretched kink in the muscle in between my shoulders which apparently is the muscle in the body that controls every other part of the body as i have been experiencing a tremendous amount of pain ever since in my neck, arm and shoulder. i´m sure it´s some wicked plan by the Evil One to discourage me from continuing to work out, but it will not work. I have gone walking since, and i have another appointment scheduled with the wicked personal trainer who is encouraging me through this torture. it does feel good, i have to say, to work the muscles i forgot i had. at the gym, they have this crazy scale machine that can tell you how much of your body is composed of fat. let's just say that, according to that number, there is a goddess under here somewhere. spent the weekend working around the apartment again and trying to get some rest. oh, and watching the entire first season of sex and the city on DVD. rented from my favorite enterprise of the 21st century, www.netflix.com. seriously. if you have wacky taste in films or are really interested in documentaries, foreign films or musical performances, Netflix is your friend. especially if you have that not-so-rare condition that prevents you, without fail, from returning a video on time to the store. with netflix, no late fees. ever. i am listening to the MTV Video Music Awards from the next room. Could not bear the audio AND visual stimulation any longer. especially when chaka khan sashayed on stage and was singing in an entirely different key than the performer she was attempting to sing along with. too much to handle. where's U2? Sheryl Crow? of the people I saw on the show, however, I do really enjoy Maroon 5. i am fairly befuddled by jessica simpson, though. i made the mistake of taking a 1.5 hour nap today in hopes of alleviating the shoulder muscle pain, but i am afraid that all i may have accomplished is assuring myself of a sleepless night.

Good Lord, Thelma!

so, we are one week into school (plus a few days), and the adventures continue to build. one day last week, one of the Hispanic parents looked at me as I was speaking in Spanish to the class, and she said, "Are you Mexican?". Needless to say, I had to restrain myself from jumping up and kissing the poor woman on the mouth! How exciting is that? To be mistaken for Mexican by a Mexican? Muy, let me tell you. The number of chronic criers and sufferers from separation anxiety has diminished greatly, although there are a few who still have a big bawl at least as they are arriving. There was a little boy who, during the first week, cried almost nonstop for the first thirty to forty minutes then again at nap time. Well last Friday, he just marched in like he was six feet tall and bullet proof and said, "I don't whine and cry anymore. I am coming to school." Okay then. Earlier in the week, he had called for me from the bathroom to ask me to wipe his bottom after he used the bathroom. My teaching assistant intervened and walked in and handed him the paper. Muchas gracias. Well a few days later, he went to the bathroom, walked out, having washed his hands and said, "Ya, Maestra, no necesito que limpies mi cola." Translated, literally, that means, "Now, Teacher, I don't need you to clean my tail." Isn't that precious? ¿Qué más les digo? It is absolutely incredible the things that these three- and four-year-olds do not know how to do. Hardly any of them can tell me where their head or chin or chest is. About one-third of the class has no idea how to use scissors. Unbelievable, yes? That is why we are there. To catch them up with where they should be developmentally at their ages. Because their parents either work too much to be able to help them at home, or they have no concept of what to do with them. Or they just ignore them. Or a smattering of all three. It has been a fabulous parenting class for me -- about what and what NOT to do should I ever have children of my own. And it makes me want to learn more and more and more about parent education. We shall see.

Swiss Army

i thought the swiss were supposed to be neutral. if so, why does a swiss army even exist? and why do they make so darn many knives? these are the things that occur to me while waiting for prescriptions to be filled (non-psychotropic drugs, by the way) at the Walgreen's. drifting up and down the aisles. still trying to find the perfect mascara. faithful that it exists. but it remains a mirage nonetheless. today, at school, a little girl came up to me and said, "do you have a boyfriend?" no. "do you have a spouse?" no. "are you pregnant?" um, no. "my mom is pregnant, and she is going to have a baby." really? "yes, and one day, i'm going to be a woman, and i'm going to be pregnant, and i'm going to have a baby." well, dear, it's good to have goals.

I Almost Forgot

what it is like to have a crush on someone. i forgot about boy time and girl time. and how i could smile in my sleep. i forgot about the actual chemical changes that take place in our bodies when we are intrigued by someone. and how even those changes can be amplified when we believe that someone is intrigued by us. i spent the better part of this week getting to know my new classroom. trying to make sense of it and wondering if there is any way that i will be able to endure the beginning of another school year. this year, my class will be a multi-age classroom, with some children who will barely have turned three years old when school starts and others who are about to turn five years old. huge disparity, especially when you consider that when children are that young, it's almost like dog years. one year of development between the ages of three and four can seem like seven. can i just say how much i love internet radio? when stationed in an area where the flora blocks radio waves from not very far away, it's a welcome change to be able to listen to indian, arabic or baltic folk music. random. i actually find it sort of calming in that i do not even have to begin to worry about the lyrical content of what i am listening -- i could not understand it if i tried. the instrumentation is generally very mesmerizing as well. i think we have just gone from muslim chanting to a track from the cold mountain soundtrack. or maybe it's yanni. i just watched one of my favorite films of all time, amélie. could anything be more beautiful? the film is just beautiful to look at, and the story is enchanting. i highly recommend it.

Circle In The Square

this weekend, i attended the 12th birthday party of my first niece. we spent the day at a water park in western louisiana. i, thankfully, got one of the not-so-coveted non-swimmer's tickets, which was a good thing because i deliberately did not wear or even pack a swimsuit. did not sound fun to me. i was there for the fellowship. i renewed my wonder and awe about how women perform their duties as mothers whilst having to attend to 8,000,000 other people and other demands of life. at one point, i was feeding my newborn niece a bottle with my left hand, contorting my body to rock her carrier with the elbow of the same hemisphere of my body and somehow managing to drink water and wedge my novel under the carrier to hold down the pages so that i could read simultaneously. it's a marvel. mothers of the world, i salute you! anyway, after the party was over, my mom and i went to a local mall to see if there were any new-job-appropriate clothes on super-end-of-season sale yet. the answer is 'no'. or perhaps 'yes' but not my style. i'd rather wear overalls and a t-shirt to wallow around on the floor with three- and four-year-olds. since beginning work in my new job, i've been wondering if it would be socially and professionally acceptable for me to write a personal statement/bio to introduce myself to all the people i will be working with in my new position. and if it would be so, what would i like to tell them? hello, i am coming to you after two years of doing this same type of job in another city. before that, i spent 8.5 years in the music business where i was exposed to every kind of pressure, social and professional, that you can imagine, and i was lucky enough to have the opportunity to encounter many different kinds of people. the experience as a whole was a fruitful and enjoyable one, and it gave me the opportunity to observe and understand human beings and our patterns of behavior in ways that i would never have been able to if it were not for the experience. from a very young age, i have been very interested in distinct cultures -- inside my own family, country and the world. i have been gripped by fear and completely fearless at various stages of my life. i have been victimized by gossip and therefore do not understand the need to take other people's trial and tragedy and trivialize and editorialize it. i believe that every one of us is on this earth, created by God, with a specific purpose to fulfill. i believe that when we work toward fulfilling that purpose, there is no greater sense of happiness and fulfillment. i believe that the reason that i took my first spanish class was to be able to take this job with gusto and serve what is rapidly becoming the majority population of our country and continent. i believe that none of us is born knowing how to be a parent, a husband or a wife, yet these are the absolute most important roles than any of us may ever fulfill in our time on earth. in my work, i believe that it is my job not only to teach the children but also to teach their parents -- to convince them that they are, in fact, their childrens' first teacher and that they have to make whatever personal effort and sacrifice to give that child the best social, emotional and academic base that they are able. my sense of humor is equally funny to some and completely lost on others. i love to read, and i love to encourage others to read. i believe that any and all efforts that we make to do a great job are fruitless if we are not exposing ourselves to some form of art continually and habitually. the same goes for our intellectual self as for our spiritual self -- if we are not feeding our spirit and our brain, we will have nothing to give to those with whom we want to share. i am so looking forward to the coming school year -- as daunting a challenge as it may be -- and i am looking forward to surrounding myself with a great team that wants to make great things happen with these children and their families.

Sometimes I Wonder

i wrote earlier this evening, but after i was finished, i chatted online with my cousin, who is awaiting security clearance to go overseas and do one of those jobs that none of us knows exists but we all reap potential rewards from one day. i would say more, but i do not think it would be prudent, not to mention i do not really have a true idea of what constitutes the task at hand. anyhoo, we determined that we are twins separated at birth. both with similar interests and propensities. yet we have not seen each other in sixteen years. weird, eh? i wish someone would fan me right now. it is boiling hot in the room i have this computer set up in, but it is the most convenient (and uncomfortable at the moment) place in the house for it. today, i saw a number of people with whom i graduated high school. isn't it strange that when you are surrounded by too many people from a particular era in your life that there is some strange compulsion (or perhaps it comes from inside of us) that transforms you into the person you were when you knew them twenty years ago? or maybe it's just me. i would be interested to know anyone else's perspective on that phenomenon. today, i sat in a room of about 140 people in the same profession as i am, and i could not, based upon first sight or introductions, pick out even a handful that i thought would end up in my circle of friends. i wonder if that is some sort of prejudice on my part or if it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. or if it is just fact. i wonder.

Does Anybody Really Know...

what time it is? the past week and a half has been filled with teacher training and workshops and all manner of thrills. today, i spent three hours being instructed on how to send an email. not a joke. well, actually, i was writing letters and sending and receiving text messages, which i think proves that i have enough technological savvy that i could have tested out of that workshop. we do what we must, i suppose. i have been thinking lately about how easy it is for us to get into patterns of lifestyle and behavior. good or bad. another thing that has really become evident to me since my return from mexico is a sense of sadness about how our american society has conditioned our men to not necessarily opt for chivalry. what do i mean? i have seen a number of situations where a gentleman wanted to open the door for a woman or allow her to pass in front of him through a doorway, and she has brushed him off to do it her way. and have we conditioned our men not to feel comfortable complimenting us in a tasteful manner? it is not always, or even most all of the time, sexual harassment. maybe it is just a man wanting to compliment beauty. i don't know. i just finished reading an interesting novel called the dirty girls social club by alisa valdes-rodriguez. it dealt with six college friends, all latinas, who have at least two annual get-togethers to keep in touch and share life stories. there is quite a bit of spanish in the text, and it is not always translated for the reader. but it was fun and even a little culturally informative at times. and it's a pretty book cover, which, sometimes, is all we are really looking for in a book. a few days ago, i started another Ann Patchett novel called the patron saint of liars. i was talking to my sister yesterday, and she just finished reading it. synchronicity. neither of us knew the other had it in their possession. i am taking my temperature right now, because i thought i was having some kind of hot flash or something. it's fixed at slightly above normal. ever so slightly. and i am tired of holding the thermometer under my tongue. i think it's making a bruise. so far this week, i have received three pieces of mail at my new apartment. all three of them were hand-written correspondence (muy exciting AND a little old-fashioned, which i love), and all of them were invitations to little girls' birthday parties. this weekend, my niece is having her 12th birthday party at a water park in louisiana. next weekend, my life long best friend's little girl is hosting a tea party for her 4th birthday. and the weekend after that, a former co-worker's daughter is having a 'down on the farm' party, including an actual chuck wagon, for her 2nd birthday party. and i was worried about my social calendar not filling up. when i see a number of birthdays piling up in the same month, i always am compelled to count forty weeks back and see if there was a common occasion that those couples might have been 'celebrating' when they conceived. like, i think i might have been a valentine's celebration, as my birthday is 40 weeks to the day after valentine's day. coincidence? i think not.

One of the best dinner parties ever...San Miguel de Allende July 21, 2004. 

Shock Cultural

Fairly certain that the grammar in that title is Spanglish, at best.  It is Sunday of the first full weekend I have been home, and everyone says I look different.  Some said it in different ways, but the essence is the same.  I wish everyone could make or take the opportunity to do for themselves what I have just done.  I was thinking about why it always seems that I make such interesting friends when I travel.  And I came up with the following:  1)  We all have in common from the start a sense of adventure; 2)  We are fearless, some to a fault; 3)  We love learning; 4)  We are looking to live like we are dying, to appropriate the lyrics of the new Tim McGraw single.  There was another time in my life that I called myself living like I was dying, because I was convinced that I was destined to be dead by 30 years of age.  That epoch was filled with adventures far more adventuresome than skydiving or Rocky Mountain climbing but in a not-so-good way.  In a more self-destructive way, with the end in mind.  The past several years, my living in the moment has been driven by a more forward-thinking, positive force.  I have reclaimed my spirituality with a far more considerable fervor than even I would ever have guessed possible.  Fervor, not fanaticism.  I am more conscious of my place in the world.  Having almost lost it last year in a car accident, I decided for sure that I have not just a place, but a purpose here in this mad, mad world.  What exactly it is remains in the process of unfolding, but the journey is ever-changing and full of stories. 

Sobreviviendo San Miguel / Surviving San Miguel

i have just returned from having lived in san miguel de allende, guanajuato, mexico, since june 27th, 2004.  talk about culture shock.  i had an amazing time in the city, making new friends that i really believe will go the distance.  there are only so many stories you can share with a group of like-minded (or at least open-minded) people and not avoid being friends for a long, long time.  at one point during the stay, i commented to one of my house-mates, "are you sure we are not being secretly filmed for the new season of MTV's THE REAL WORLD / San Miguel?".  It would undoubtedly have received pretty good ratings.  We were conjuring up enough crazy anecdotes to at least get a shot at starring in our own telenovela. 

El Limerick y La Cucaracha

Good lord at staying out toda la noche.  

But I was not the only one, ¡Gracias a Dios!  Sarah got home at 0800 hours and Julia at 1030 hours.  So my adventure began at around 7:30 or 8:00 pm. Closer to 9:00pm.  Melissa wanted to go salsa dancing, por supuesto, and I went with her.  We went to Mama Mia's first for dinner and a drink.  It was delicious -- Italian food -- we had a pizza and an ensalada caprese (fresh mozzarella, basil, tomatoes and greens).  So we left there, going to El Ring, where they were supposed to have salsa between 9 and 11 pm.  

Not so. 

So we walked around and then went to the Limerick Pub -- an Irish pub in Mexico, owned by Argentinians -- and listened to U2 and various other popular bands (not in person) over the (very) loud speaker.  Then Choc showed up.  Then Henry, who went to Baylor at the same time I was there and dated one of my brother's ex-girlfriends, the sister of one of my ex-classmates.  Henry graduated Baylor law school and practiced in Dallas as a public defender for a while, realized a dire need for being able to speak Spanish, and got permission from his boss to spend a month at a time in San Miguel learning to speak it.  Then, after a few years of intermittent study, he decided to leave his lawyer job and come to San Miguel to teach English as a Second Language.  Now he writes for a SMA newspaper.  
So Melissa had already left, and we were just hanging out and people-watching, considering out loud when was the last time any of the three of us had had what we would call a "real date".  (Answer:  On average, about a year and a half).  So we stayed at The Limerick until sometime between 1 and 2am and then went to a local bar of decidedly ill repute called La Cucaracha (can't imagine WHY a bar of such a suave name would get a bad reputation).  

Save Charles, the retired-at-age-forty-four gay man  from San Francisco, we were the ONLY white, non-Hispanic people in the entire establishment.  Henry introduced us to some friends --  Armando, Charles and a woman whose name has since escaped me.  

Chit. Chat.  

Someone decides that we start (or should I say 'continue' with tequila).  I refuse to shoot it, and I sip alongside Henry.  Choc shoots.  Then Geraldo (henceforth "Jerry") and his friend, the extremely drunk Chilango, set about chatting us up, assuring us that they have many American friends.  

 Good times. 

Then I reiterate to Choc that his role is to protect me, the one white American girl in the place, from the vast majority of Mexican men.  In doing so, I give him express permission to claim me, kiss me, hold my hand -- whatever it takes to keep me from being "taken" by the natives.  Well, Jerry starts kissing my hand and commenting about the beauty of my eyes.  Then he put his hand on my a**.  So I turn to Choc, with pleading eyes and advise him, "grabbing my a**!  grabbing my a**!" So Choc, misunderstanding my not-so-secret code, GRABS MY A**!  Surprised and a little inspired, I said, "No! Jerry is grabbing my a**!" So, having not perfected our code, Choc and I drift closer to Armando, Charles and (I shall call her) Carmela.  

In a corner, where, in an effort to put as many friendly male bodies between me and Jerry the Beso-saurus, I lean against the wall. Unfortunately, in doing so, I turn out all the lights in the bar.  So I quickly and not-so-nonchalantly flip them back on.  So then we start watching Choc continue to sidle up to the drunk Mexicans.  The Chilango is getting more and more drunk and, por supuesto, more and more animated.  Especially with his tongue, which he is somehow able to maintain outside of his mouth at least 50 percent of the time. I glance and catch him (Chilango) staring at me, salivating and licking his lips in my general direction.  

Fabuloso.  

So, averting my gaze, I shift Henry a little more to the left and put in place a strong and living, breathing boundary between me and the Lip-Licker.  Jerry wants to kiss my hand again.  There's no avoiding it.  Then some young kid in a canary yellow golf visor walks in, and Charles salutes him, noting, "There's mi hijo, El Diablo".  El Diablo is a Los Angeles native and ex-Marine named Andrew, who has just left one of two local strip bars.  Henry, the ex-patriate local periodista, is incredulous, apparently having known nothing of such establishments in tranquil San Miguel. 

Charles, the retired-at-age-forty-four gay man from San Francisco who could very likely care not-a-bit-less about anything, spoke from experience to say that yes, in fact there are "a few places here where you can go watch cottage cheese slide down a pole".  And he has been there.  

(Universe shifting). 

Well, after a few more of the same exchanges and avoidances of kissing in various degrees and stages of repulsiveness, Henry asked if we would like to move to sit on one of the small couches in the corner.  So we sit down, Charles, Henry and I, and shortly, Choc pulls up a stool. So, we visit for a while, and before long, Henry has enough and checks out for the evening (morning).  

Oh no, empty chair.  Beside me.

Eyes fixed on the painfully obviously-empty chair just sitting there, bound to be filled by Los Borrachos, it is in this precious moment that Charles points out that I am the ONLY female of any race in the entire establishment. Yes, the only one. So I am sitting on, of all things, a love seat, alone.  Empathetically understanding my plight, Charles transplants himself to occupy the vacancy.  Thankfully he takes up the space closest to me, but he leaves the chair to my left empty.  

Enter Jerry. 

The next thing I see is Choc signaling something to the Chilango -- and then the Chilango starts unbuttoning his shirt. (Meanwhile, I am denying my most natural inclination to dance because the only one asking is Jerry) and the Chilango shucks his entire shirt right in the middle of the bar.  Presumably to show Choc the tattoo on his back that bears his last name.  The three of us, Choc, Charles and I quickly confirm, for reasons unknown, that none of us has ever had a tattoo. Jerry persists.  Dance?  Kiss? Charles, in an epic moment of enlightenment, puts his arm around me and starts stroking my hair.  As if scripted, the more insistent and piercing Jerry's stares, the more involved I become in Charles' embrace.  He completely surrounds me and assures Jerry -- who, in a more lucid state might have remembered my hours-previous claim that I belonged "only to Choc" -- that I was "completely faithful to him and only him," that we are leaving together.  

Fortunately, we had Victoria (a brand name of beer here) on our side, and she had done a smashing job of erasing any and all memories from Jerry's mind that were more than ten, fifteen seconds old.  

Thanks be to the Virgin Mary.  

Al fin y al cabo, we were able to outlast the locals and make a safe and obvious escape from the San Migueleño equivalent of Sue's Number Two in Waco, Texas. 

I can't wait to go back.    

Refrigerator Survey Jan 2004

January 30, 2004 I just surveyed the contents of my refrigerator/freezer, and I came up with this: in the bottom half -- one bag of flax seeds, four pieces of wheat berry sliced bread. Six single-serving packages of orange juice (yes, from concentrate), a half-bottle of chardonnay, three broccoli trees… In the top: three chicken carcasses (that way if you forget to take out the trash, your apartment smells less like a landfill), two individually zip-locked chicken breasts, one bacon-wrapped filet mignon, two pork chops, six brown bananas (who want to be muffins when they grow up), long-forgotten vanilla shake from the Sonic drive-in…