more than anything in this world...

in THIS world, that is. it is 12:17 am, and i have been asleep briefly tonight once already, but now i am fully awake. i am three days away from having ten days off of work, and i am still not sure what i am going to do with the time. i was introducing a friend to www.sidestep.com last night, a wonderful travel price comparison web site, and i checked a fare to mexico city for this coming saturday, and much to my surprise, i found that it only cost $265 from houston. only $390 from little shreveport, louisiana. oh, how i would love to go. but there is the dilemma of where to stay. a friend offered me his family's place, but they are engulfed in the passing of his grandmother, so it no longer feels like the right thing to do to take him up on his offer. but how nice it would be. i would be able to experience Holy Week first-hand, something i have always wanted to do, being a Spanish speaker and teacher of the language and all. i have been overwhelmed lately by the realization that so many of us here on earth work so hard and expend so much energy trying to manage our lives and our problems and those of others that we seldom stop to admit that we are simply not in charge of it all. we (and i include myself very definitely in this subject pronoun) make ourselves crazy with the trying to figure it all out and the wondering if we did the right thing. we are focusing on decision-making in our small group study in the student ministry at church, and every week, i feel like i am the most attentive student. or at least that i should be. and i am the discussion leader! it is amazing the way that God works to present us with opportunities to exercise what he has taught us. i am praying about my work and some very special friends and family members who are in need of direction as well. i am praying about what is my next professional move. graduate school? moving to Mexico? moving to a bigger city? getting involved in parent education? sitting still? moving on? see, here i am doing it! but the good news is that i am allowing it all to come to me gradually. i have no set deadlines, and i have no intention of barreling through to the wrong decision like i did about this time last year. i ran into a friend last weekend who was really stressed about her work, and we stood in the grocery store sharing stories, only to find out that we both have the same issues and some almost-identical personal concerns. why don't we talk about it more often? why don't we share our weaknesses? and our successes? do friends not have the right to burden their friends with their problems anymore? isn't that what we are here for? to support? and to listen? and to advise? i think so. i hope that i am that kind of friend. i love having that kind of friend. sometimes, i do not even need anything more than a little quality time with a trusted friend. it is amazing how helpful just a few hours can be for me. or for someone else if i salvage the time to spend with them. it is truly ironic to me that in a world where we can make phone calls for free over the internet to communist countries, where we can type instant messages with someone halfway around the world and we can have instantaneous communication in various forms with friends and loved ones and even strangers, that we seem to be becoming more and more reclusive in our actual one-on-one human face-to-face contact. why is that? is the distance a comfort to us? a buffer of sorts that keeps us from getting too emotionally close to someone while being physically close to them as well? are we becoming far too comfortable with our parallel lives? comforted by sharing the extremely personal in an even more extremely impersonal manner? i believe it may be true.

experience, regrets, mistakes, stepping stones

they all seen so interwoven, but i believe that they are distinct. i do not believe in regrets. i believe in acknowledging mistakes and using them as stepping stones to find your way to experience, which is what should truly be our jumping off point to start each new day. i struggle regularly with how to share my experiences in such a way as to humbly recount them in hopes that someone else can see them for what they are: stepping stones, part of a worldwide pattern. human nature is human nature. even if someone is ten years older than i am, i can look to their life's experiences and somehow match some of my own to theirs, and if i am attentive enough, i can look at their path and that of my own -- or the choices i am about to have to make -- and i will undoubtedly be able to recognize a pattern. something that occurs almost exactly as it has occurred in millions of people's lives before me. and after me. how do we share those experiences without sounding like a know-it-all? without sounding like someone's mother or father? why are we all so stubborn that we cannot recognize ourselves voluntarily putting ourselves into the same pattern that led us to such deep sadness and trouble once or many times before? when i can answer this question, i will be truly wise. and hopefully, that wisdom will give me the words and the ability to help others to seek for themselves.

???????????????????????

like a falling feather i drift without direction yet somehow, i always land in a moment of perfection while i sit here with my eyes closed tight i consider myself so blessed i wish i could make the world understand this place of silent rest my eyes are open now but still i do not look where i am told to find the way that place, that gift, that nook one thing i can say i've learned is how to give it up to not concern myself with what i cannot change i have to leave it be it's much too big for me i hand it over to my true lover and sing myself to sleep.

alphapoemorama, part deux

Arrogance Brings forth Confusion Determining Everyone else's Fortune Grieves me Harangues me Intrigues me Jostles my mind Kindred spirits Leave me Mystified Needing Openness Placation Quivers Reminds me of Stupid Things I've Unlearned Vigilance Wasted by eXcavating Your presence in my Zoo of memories.

alphapoemarama

After 12 hours Becoming what I loathe Could it hurt anymore? Determined to overcome Excedrin is my friend Finish me off Give my daughter the shot! Help me to my bed Is that all there is? Just help me sleep Keep me Lingering Meanwhile Nudge me Onward and upward Praying like there's no tomorrow Questions answered Reminding myself of You Studying Teaching Understanding Wondering eXamining You Zealously.

Entertaining Angels

would it not be amazing to discover that, unbeknownst to you, you had entertained angels at some point in your life? or that you had been an angel to someone else? wow. i have decided to open my mind up, officially, to the possibility of a move and/or career modification. and my official position is that if someone wants to hire me and needs an answer from me when i am not prepared to give them one, then i will tell them to ask their question of someone else and to make their decision notwithstanding my response. so there. i have been having these weird episodes of what feels like arrested circulation and weird fluctuations in body temperature. i'm too young for the change, right? i certainly like to think so. tonight was our last night in the study of hebrews. what an amazing journey. i need to go back and read all my notes and just camp on them for days. so it stays fresh. i bought the new lee ann womack CD, and it's amazing. it's called there's more where that came from and everything about it is designed like an old country record from the sixties/seventies. photography, songs and graphic design. i love it. i called a friend of mine the other night while he was playing on the Grammys to check in and, as an aside, to give him permission to tell jamie foxx that i, indeed, would go out with him, if he asked. some people can do everything. i must go now as i am about to fall out of my chair with fatigue. have had bad headaches too. will check back in with the doctor tomorrow.

Sometimes, You Just Know

So, I have been down with fever and achiness since Wednesday last, and today, as I was singing in church, it occurred to me that God had taken me out of work for those few days to prevent me from acting rashly in a very uncomfortable work situation. I truly believe that. God weakened my body to strengthen my spirit. And my resolve. The previous week and a half had been very stressful because I had been required to leave my students and my co-teacher with a less-than-humane group of people posing as educators and caregivers. And upon my return, I tragically realized that in that short four days, they had retrained themselves, using their basic instincts, to respond only to people who scream at, threaten or otherwise dominate them into submission, at whatever the cost. And I was allowing myself to be retrained by them to become one of those malicious attackers. I just saw one of my little students at the local Mexican food dive, and she shyly asked me, "Maestra, when are you going to be able to come with us?", and my heart melted. They know the difference. Thanks to God for delivering us all from the horrible aftershock of their experience a few weeks ago. Tomorrow, we return, refreshed, revived and rededicated.

100 Things I Want In A Partner

created on 14 november 2004 1. a Christian 2. strong spiritual leader 3. positivity 4. financially sound 5. a lover of books 6. a great lover 7. adventuresomeness 8. likes to communicate 9. inspires me 10. challenges me 11. environmentally conscious 12. understanding 13. enjoys travel 14. loves people 15. faithfulness 16. supportive 17. thoughtful 18. enjoys writing 19. encourager 20. peaceful 21. assertive 22. admirable 23. strong values 24. God-given 25. kindness 26. healthy 27. not sarcastic 28. healthy perspective 29. sense of humour 30. enjoys films 31. good listener 32. not an addict 33. full of joy 34. likes touch 35. likes coffee shops 36. stillness 37. provocative 38. communicator 39. musical talent 40. a great writer 41. strong hands 42. great kisser 43. knowing eyes 44. pretty teeth 45. great hair 46. loves my family 47. interested in me 48. likes to drive 49. speaks spanish 50. (edit) curious 51. willing to counsel 52. not a hoarder 53. spiritually adept 54. knows me 55. defender of honour 56. great father 57. good with tools 58. passionate 59. forward-thinking 60. not sports-obsessed 61. good leader 62. nurturing 63. tolerates me 64. empathetic 65. sympathetic 66. learns from mistakes 67. understands loyalty 68. sensitive 69. enjoys great wine 70. loves to create 71. enjoys cooking 72. seeks new opportunities 73. respects my space 74. respects my privacy 75. respects my alone time 76. not jealous 77. trusting 78. complimentary 79. complementary 80. public displays of affection okay 81. sensible 82. well-balanced 83. energetic 84. awe-inspiring 85. loves God 86. full of good ideas 87. sense of urgency 88. directness 89. focused 90. literate 91. aware 92. mission-minded 93. emotionally intelligent 94. connected 95. expressive of feelings 96. open-hearted 97. sense of self 98. good self-esteem 99. confidence 100. in love with me

100 Things That Turn Me On

so, recently, i purchased a book that is supposed to inspire people like me who like to journal to greater heights of creativity. one of the chapters is called "lists of 100". and it suggests thinking of a category and then making a list of 100 things that belong in that category. quickly. here is the first one i did, dated 6 november 2004: (in no particular order, except for the order they came to my mind) 1. a great song 2. joy 3. beautifully written books 4. intelligence 5. nice wine 6. beautiful art 7. pens 8. God's love for me 9. a sexy man 10. talent 11. humility 12. perseverance 13. initiative 14. surprises 15. beautiful weather 16. the smell of a fireplace 17. solitude 18. traveling 19. learning 20. laughter 21. a singing voice 22. flirting 23. (edit) 24. massage 25. sweating 26. new makeup 27. lipstick 28. good coffee 29. sunsets 30. oceans 31. great food 32. martinis 33. passion 34. compassion 35. softness 36. xanax 37. salt and pepper hair 38. (edit) 39. (edit) 40. singing 41. writing 42. glancing 43. france 44. studying 45. knowing 46. new people 47. helping 48. serving 49. cooking 50. hot teas 51. my eyes 52. french kissing 53. chili 54. numbers 55. teaching 56. anticipating 57. courtship 58. forgiveness 59. spontaneity 60. pretty curtains 61. painting 62. writing haiku 63. smart kids 64. kindness 65. my eyebrows 66. hot lipstick 67. sheryl crow 68. memories 69. mexico 70. speaking spanish 71. learning italian 72. a fan blowing on me 73. skin on skin 74. hand on my back 75. enrique 76. memories of philippe 77. my sense of self 78. learning about the Bible 79. verbal sparring 80. power 81. being well 82. recognizing talent 83. soft sheets 84. good pillows 85. holding hands 86. walking 87. yoga 88. listening 89. sweet potato pie 90. helping parents 91. new pens 92. cohesiveness 93. real butter 94. great coffee 95. a day in the sun 96. being warm 97. scarves 98. hats 99. nice shoes 100. love

Published

it's so not a big deal, but it's almost as impressive as the first time. when i was twelve years old, i was a huge professional wrestling fan. back in the day, when the flashiest thing you saw might have been some factory-manufactured fringe Singer-sewn onto a pair of Lycra dance pants in the way of costuming or "character" development. anyway, it was fun for me, and one night, the infamous members of the Texas wrestling family, the von Erichs, came to wrestle a series of matches at the civic center in my humble hometown. i attended, along with my equally (perhaps more) fanatic friend Beth, and we had a large time. afterward, i was so impressed and inspired by their presence in my midst, that i wrote a heartfelt review of the evening's events. well, lo! and behold, the next month, there was my review published in one of the biggest national wrestling fan magazines that existed. but it was my first brush with sexism. in their magazine, i was no longer of the female gender. they truncated my otherwise feminine and girly name to its very masculine and un-dainty masculine counterpart. why? because how could a girl have such insight into such a grotesque and hideous sport? who knows? either way. tonight, i was leaving a jimmy buffett-themed party at a local bar, and i picked up a local magazine on my way out. and there were two of my favorite haiku published in its pages. random. you just never know. perhaps someone will be changed for the better upon reading them. perhaps they will line a bird cage. one cannot know or even guess. but it was fun to see it. upon second reading, i have realized that they typo'ed out one letter at the beginning of one of the haiku which renders the entire poem senseless, so here they both are in their entirety: eyes the color of coal that warms me in the fall lighting a spark ...passed along the way... going to meet the future said, 'don't i know you?'

Yet Another First

so, here it is, 2005. and i thought i was never even going to make it to 1998 all my life. i have just returned from a CVBC (www.cypressvalley.org) mission trip to San Felipe, Guanajuato, Mexico, where i was part of a 27-member team sent by our church to further some work on the church that we have planted there. we took three crews -- construction, women's study/crafts and children's study/crafts. all three did very impressive work. in the church building, door facings were constructed and installed, holes were patched, roof work was done, lighting was installed, heaters were installed, bathroom improvements were made, storage shelves were built. i'm sure there were more improvements made -- i just wish more people could have seen before and after photos! the children and women's groups worked on arts/crafts projects to use to decorate the church. the first two nights we were there, we showed (on a BIG screen) The Passion Of The Christ (with Spanish subtitles, of course) to two full houses (40 +) people, church members and other community members. on tuesday, after working for four hours to get the audio/visual kinks worked out, we ended up having to go and buy an additional DVD player from a San Felipe electronics vendor. jokingly, while preparing to pay for the player (the one we had brought was useless to us as we had somehow arrived without the remote control to operate it), i said, "...unless of course, you just want to loan it to us...". and Javier, the shop owner said, "you just need it for today and tomorrow?". i said, "yes." and he responded, "well, just buy it, and when you return it tomorrow, i will give you your money back." okay. so we did. and when we went back the next day to return it, his shop was already closed. so, feeling like he would consider me a liar, we got it back to him the next afternoon, and he was not in the shop. javier, his son, said, "are you returning a DVD player?" and i said, "yes. we came here last night, but you were closed." he asked me if i had the receipt, and i told him that one of my friends had it and that i had forgotten to get it from him. he went to the desk, withdrew 950 pesos and gave it to me. every peso we had paid him. no questions asked. amazing. only in mexico. i left javier (the dad) a nice note thanking him and blessing him for having done us the favor, and we went about our evening. on the second night, Russ asked me if i would be interested in going to León the next day to donate blood on behalf of one of the church members, Zacarías, who is scheduled to have a surgery in the next couple of months. i said, "sure." so, at 4:15 the next morning, i got up, showered (in very cold water) and jumped in the truck with six other team members, Zacarías and his wife Éster, for the 1.5 hour trip to León. when we finally found the hospital and checked in at 7:15 am, we learned that they accept donors on a lottery style basis, and they were accepting only thirty for that morning, all of which spaces had already been ticketed/claimed. so, Éster went to talk to the doctor, letting him know that she had seven potential donors from the United States who were leaving the country the next day. he issued ten more tickets, and we began the complicated process of eligibility to donate blood. in Mexico, apparently, (or at least in this place), someone who is going to have a surgery is required to rustle up twenty blood donors to give blood on his/her behalf before having surgery and twenty blood donors to give blood on his/her behalf after the surgery is completed to replenish the blood bank. the process was tiresome and lengthy. first, we had to wait for our number to be called. one at a time, we went up to a reception window to give personal information -- address, date of birth, occupation, phone number, level of education. then, we were called again to give a blood sample for typing purposes. then we sat back down in the waiting area. then, we were called into another room to have our blood pressure checked, our measurements taken and our weight checked. then we sat back down in the waiting room. then we were called, one by one, into a small private room with a doctor who asked us the series of very personal questions and, in my case anyway, spent time reviewing with me the results of my blood tests. he marveled at my good health and set about telling me what every count, percentage and number meant. all the while comparing me to the average Mexican woman. he complimented my apparently healthy diet and general good health. that was a freebie. then, we sat back down. then, if we were not disqualified by any of our answers or results, we waited until they called our number (coincidentally, mine was thirty-seven, the age i just turned last month) and went to lie down on the elevated blue lounge chairs to be punctured by what looked like a 900 gauge needle (aka garden hose) to begin the extraction of the precious fluid. earlier, in the waiting room, a rather tall, dark and handsome doctor type walked by and caught the eye(s) of my friend Sally and me. while i was lying prone on the vampire chairs, said tall, dark and handsome doctor walked over and spoke to me, in English and then Spanish after i answered him in his native language. then, my pal David shouts from his corner, "hey, C*****i, is that the doctor that you wanted to hit on you?". eeeeeeeeeeek. i looked at him and said, "hello, he's bilingual!" and David and Chris and Casey proceeded to laugh out loud. all i could say was, "great, now they won't get any blood because it's all in my face!" fabulous. the doc who did the sticking was pretty good with a needle, and he was a little too excited about my "venas muy buenas" (very good veins). i thought one time that he was going to try and suck it out of both arms at once. anyway, apparently i broke some record for quickest filling of a blood bag (seven minutes), and i lay there to recuperate for about 20 minutes -- snacking on the bag of goodies they gave me. a three-piece-of-white-bread ham and cheese sandwich, a tangerine, a boiled egg, and some guava nectar (there they've got the American Red Cross beat). actually, i only delved into the sandwich because i had not eaten since about 10 pm the night before -- we were told we had to fast (total -- nothing to eat or drink) for at least eight hours before donating. which made no sense to any of us since we would have NO strength to donate. of course, upon arrival, and after reading and translating the twenty-four rules posted on the wall of the waiting area, we realized that we could have had water, juice, fruit and/or vegetables. with big holes in our arms and food on our minds, we got our proof of donation and proceeded to the truck to set about finding lunch. i had seen a Pollo Feliz on the way into town, and we were determined to find it before heading back to San Felipe. we found it, and read the sign "Only To Go". so we decided to have a tailgate party. we ordered a couple of chickens, several quesadillas and got chips and hot sauce and sodas to lay out on the tailgate of David's truck. as we were wolfing down the (amazingly tasty) food, David said, "Happy Chicken, 60 pesos, Quesadillas, 12 pesos, Tailgating with friends on the street in Mexico, Priceless." and we all laughed. perhaps the best quesadillas i've ever put in my mouth. the ladies at the stand told us they make 10,000 corn tortillas daily. daily. two women. in a room the size of your smallest bedroom. it was great. we got back to san felipe and checked in at the church. we wrapped up some details and prepared for the Lord's Supper that evening. at the last minutes, we realized we had forgotten to buy the bread. oops. so we hopped in the truck and set about navigating the maze of one way streets hoping to find a bakery still open. we finally found one and had to settle for a sweetened sesame bread (to date we have found no Biblical prohibition of said bread type) to use for the service. it went off mostly without a hitch, and we had a very dynamic dialogue during the service. after packing up and setting the alarm for 3:15 am, i went to bed. as consolation for not being able to make the fun side trip to san miguel de allende before returning home, my roommate and i were granted special permission to sleep in the makeshift rolling bedroom otherwise designated for drivers. the full size mattress in the camper of the truck bed. heavily sedated, i snuggled in for a nice five hour nap which lasted until the first bathroom stop somewhere north of san felipe. then, i crawled into the cab of the truck. where i made the rest of the trip, sitting in the back seat. i made a few new friends, as has been the blessed pattern, and i was reminded of the power that God has and is not afraid to use. several new believers came to faith during the trip, and i believe that several of our lives were changed in ways we could never have expected. and the toilets flushed, as designed, every time. happy new year, and i hope you are healthy happy and spiritually sound!

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…

Christmas Update 2003

I cannot remember if I wrote a 2002 update last year. I’m thinking probably not, since I couldn’t afford stamps! I started a new and quite interesting job in January 2003 – Head Start teacher in a bilingual program in Longview, Texas. I took over for a teacher who was reassigned to another grade level, and the class had been with a series of substitutes throughout November and December 2002. Non-bilingual substitutes. Wow. It was quite a challenge. Every time I left the room, those children truly believed that I was never coming back. It was very sad for them, but when I kept coming back, they finally figured out that I was the first one who was not going to leave them. They were incredible – while there were problems in their little four- and five-year-old lives that some of us could never even conceive of, they knew that they had a safe place in that classroom with me and my co-teacher Sally for at least eight hours each weekday. I have learned so much working in this job – about how to do things right and about how to switch tracks when it is not working. In March of this year, I was in a car accident[1] that by all accounts, I should not have survived. After a few days off to sleep through the initial pain (and painkillers!), I went back to school, alternating between crutches and a wheel chair (the kids loved to push me around!) and made it through the semester with a newfound love for children’s literature and a refined perspective on child development. In June, I went on my first mission trip to Mexico with a group from Cypress Valley Bible Church. It was a much easier twenty-four drive than I expected (!?), and it was almost unbelievable to see the delight in the eyes of the people of San Felipe, Guanajuato, when they saw us each day. We were able to spend time with hundreds of local adults and their children throughout the week, and I had one of the most meaningful experiences of my life thus far. I will be spending the second week of my Christmas vacation in San Felipe with the church team. I told someone recently that I truly believed that God made me bilingual for a reason and that I would be doing a disservice if I was not using that gift in as many aspects of my personal and professional life as possible. Also in June, I spent nine days on Cozumel with my sister Karyn and other friends to celebrate her 30th birthday (I’m the oldest, so I can publish that fact). We had a great time and got to hang out in a great house[2] and enjoy each other’s company for over a week. I’m not sure what happened to the rest of the summer – I visited friends and family in Nashville, Dallas and Houston, and then it was time for school to start up again. I taught my niece Chelsey how to make potholders on one of those groovy plastic weaving looms like Ronco used to sell on TV. Some of the most important cultural figures of the most recent centuries passed away. Waylon Jennings. Johnny Cash. Mr. Rogers. All having made a significant impact in their own way. On me, anyway. We got involved in a very unique war. Voyeurism flourished in the media. I pared down my weekly television viewing to under four hours (why do I even HAVE cable?). There were some very significant events in my immediate family – illness, pregnancies, separations, anniversaries, births – whose effects are far-reaching and long-lasting. I read some great books[3] and discovered some great new music[4] and am working to find some new friends close by who are interested in sharing such things. I gave up caffeinated coffee and became borderline obsessed with varieties of hot tea.[5] In the spring, I got together with a local musician (Grady Lee) and a local business owner (Shawne Somerford), and we started a live music series in a refurbished 100+-year-old building in downtown Marshall called The Weisman Center. We were able to bring some amazing entertainers there as well as build a following that was significant enough to merit continuing the series (Words & Voices) in 2004. It’s terribly fun to be involved in music again – primarily for fun and the art of it rather than as a means of making a living. (Shows are the 2nd Saturday of each month, if you are looking for something fun to do and/or a reason to come home!). I’ve moved far away from any kind of venue that features independent films, and I refuse to pay the cable bill that would get me the coolest TV channels, but I did discover that if you are a fan of foreign films or documentary and can wait a few months for something to be released on DVD, you can get just about anything via www.netflix.com[6] I’ve no idea what 2004 holds for me, except that it will be the first full year in which I am closer to forty than I am to thirty[7], and I hope to do some really amazing things during my spring and summer vacations. I’m thinking a little time in Western Europe and a little in Eastern Europe. I never did go visit my Croatian friends that I met in Barcelona that one time. I have a very good friend who is going to be living in Mombasa, Kenya, after the first of the year, so maybe that’s my spring break. Mostly out of boredom and partly out of not having any particular inspiration to write, I started painting some things. Usually just meaningful quotes that I personally found interesting, painted on canvas. I sold five of them to a new restaurant here in Marshall, and actually got some feedback on one of them recently when a gentleman that goes to my church asked me what “Voici mon secret. Il est très simple : on ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux” meant. Sort of as a clever mind-bender, the restaurant owner decided to put the only one painted in French in the men’s restroom. To see what kind of conversation and bewilderment it would provoke.[8] I should go now and finish cleaning house[9] so that I can go to one of what looks like will be several “pretend Christmas” events since our family is huge and somewhat scattered. We’ll call it a Christmas festival spread over several days. Here are the lyrics to a song I heard on the radio a few months ago that I thought was just absolutely amazing. Maybe they talk to you, too. Have a great holiday and a fabulous 2004. Remember, I have a spare bedroom and an open door. And I cook, too! It's been a hard year • But I'm climbing out of the rubble • These lessons are hard • Healing changes are subtle • But every day it's... • Less like tearing more like building • Less like captive more like willing • Less like breakdown more like surrender • Less like haunting more like remember • And I feel you here • And you're picking up the pieces • Forever faithful • It seemed out of my hands a bad situation • But you are able • And in your hands the pain and hurt • look less like scars and more like character • Less like a prison more like my room • Less like a casket more like a womb • Less like dying more like transcending • Less like fear, less like an ending • And I feel you here • And you're picking up the pieces • Forever faithful • It seemed out of my hands a bad situation • But you are able • And in your hands the pain and hurt • look less like scars • Just a little while ago • I couldn't feel the power or the hope • I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing • Just a little while back • I was desperate, broken, laid out • Hoping you would come • And I need you • And I want you here • And I feel you... • And I feel you here • And you're picking up the pieces • Forever faithful • It seemed out of my hands a bad situation • But you are able • And in your hands the pain and hurt • look less like scars • And in your hands the pain and hurt • look less like scars • And in your hands the pain and hurt • look less like scars • And more like character • (sara groves) [1] My mom took pictures of the squished metal formerly known as my car, and my dad graciously photographed my banged up face, and I truly know that I’m supposed to still be here for someone or something. [2] www.casalaroja.com [3] The Purpose Driven Life, The Secret Life Of Bees, Empire Falls, High Maintenance, Beautiful Bodies, The Lovely Bones, Lucky, How To Be Good, The Whore’s Child, White Oleander, Cherry, Honky [4] Jason Mraz, Train, Sting, Sarah McLachlan, Sara Groves, Hayes Carll [5] Current favorites are Stashtm Chai Spice Black Tea, English Breakfast Tea and Bijatm something-or-other. [6] Some great films that I have seen this way are He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (French), Amélie (French), With A Friend Like Harry (French), Talk To Her (Spanish), The Crime Of Father Amaro (Spanish), The First Year (PBS Documentary) and Rififi (French, 1955). Thank goodness for subtitles! [7] Which is perfectly fine, as I understand my life and the people around me a little more each day [8] The answer is: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye”, and it comes from the children’s book, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. [9] Let’s just say that if I had children, and Child Protective Services made a home visit, they’d probably put my kids in foster homes! I don’t know how one person can make so many dirty dishes.

After Le Divorce

How is it that the word, “marriage” is so terribly close in appearance and pronunciation “mirage”? Is it an accident? A cruel twist? Or a very deliberate and horribly overt offering from the hand of God Himself? I just saw “Le Divorce” at the Carmike 10, in Longview, Texas. And while I was not the only person in the theater, apparently, I was the only person who was listening. There were some very clever points made, and I was the only one who laughed. In fact, save one terribly obvious visual joke, I might have been the only person in the audience to have any detectible response to anything at all during that two hours. So alone I felt. And I hated that feeling. Every time that I get that feeling, and I mistakenly let it become common, I have to leave. Not just to go to the restroom or something equally mundane. I mean LEAVE. As in to cast away all that is mundane. Should I be in this apartment? Is it really anything more than a well-appointed storage room for the things I’m not even inspired enough to unpack fully? Perhaps if I were dedicating myself in this moment to cleaning up the rubbish scattered all around, I would find myself more satisfied in my current situation. I must remember, at all costs, that I am also having my period. The first one in a long time at the end of a month of taking birth control pills again. Purely for medical reasons, of course, as I have not so much as shared a fork with a man in almost two years. Maybe it’s because the movie was set in Paris. Maybe it was because of the scarves. One of my favorite things on planet earth. Not just because I went to Paris. But because I love that such a simple change from yesterday can make such a glorious change in today.

La Corrida En Sevilla

May 17, 2002 WARNING!  some of you do NOT want to read this. (specifically, Teshuvah, RAK, and PJW-S) due to subject matter involving killing animals for sport.  and dinner. yesterday, i went to the ballet.  the "dramatic ballet dance with death", according to matador Mario Carrión.  yep, a bullfight. after the disastrous trip to Granada, i needed to "cleanse my palate" so to speak.  and love Spain again. i went by the Plaza de Toros and bought two tickets, for me and Deborah, and went over to her house to hang out for a while until it was time to go to the ring. we strolled over, stopped for a coffee, then went in to take our seats. which were outstanding!  i don't know how. we were on the tercera barrera (third row) under the "box" where the king and queen sit when they come to a bullfight in Sevilla.  needless to say, it is the side the the bullfighters "play" to.  the ceremony started with all the toreros entering the ring, along with the picadores on horseback.  it is very beautiful with every torero being dressed in a different brilliant outfit.  all the toreros wear pink stockings and black slippers.  supposedly the bulls can see pink, in addition to red. at this bullfight, the entire ring and all the toreros entered to music and then stood in files on the bullring floor, removing their hats to observe a moment of silence for one of the Plaza de Toros of over forty years. so it began.  then the toreros all enter the ring together, and you wait for the first bull to be let into the ring.  he comes out, ready to fight.  all the toreros use identical capotes (working cape) that is hot pink on one side and yellow on the other.  they all use these, at alternate times, to taunt the bull and lure him to all parts of the rings.  if he gets too close to the torero, he can jump behind a protective wooden wall, which the bull then hooks with his horns, trying to get to the torero. this goes on for a bit, this is called the first tercio (third).  then the picadores enter the ring on horseback.  they carry a long lance which they use to pierce the back/neck muscles which then cause the bull to lower his head for the kill.  enter the banderilleros (three persons...or one person three times), who have approach and pierce two decorated banderillas into the back of the bull.  then all but one torero leaves the ring, and this is the one who will actually fight the bull one on one.  he taunts the bull for a while with his capote and after a while, he exchanges his capote for the red muleta (a flannel cape on a wooden stick) and his sword.  he then has ten minutes to kill the bull.  anyway, it was very exciting, because there were all kinds of crazy things that happened.  one of the bulls really had it in for one of the picadores and his horse and began lifting the horse off the ground with his horns.  at one point, the bull slammed the picador and his horse up against the wall, and the picador was thrown to the ground.  right in front of us. and then, during the fifth bullfight, César Jimenez (in the picture i attached) was downed and injured by the bull.  he continued with the fight and was awarded the bulls' ears, which you will read is very prestigious.  he also got to take a vuelta (pass around) the bull ring.  before his bullfight, he had tossed his hat to a little boy in the ring, which is the torero's way of dedicating a fight to someone.  the little boy threw it back to the torero after he had won and killed the bull. i want to go again.  donations?  if anyone comes to visit me, we must go! anyway, after that, all excited, we treated ourselves to a delightful meal at San Marco, an italian restaurant here in town.  muy fun.