Saturday, April 26, 2008

4/25 Also The Day of New Friends' Barbecue

Going to a barbecue. Not having to cook tonight, or any of the dishes that come with it. Yay.

Letting the kids hang out with Grandma. G loves her and doesn’t want her to go away. Ivy is slowly getting comfortable with her. The tears and hiding period is getting shorter and shorter. Soon, soon.

More peach sangria.

G adored playing with the toy room in the hosts’ house. Not just the toys, but also the the gerbils and the fish.

Jello. Believe it or not, I’ve never given the kids jello. Just wasn’t in my repertoire. But they got some at the barbecue and they were very very happy.

Hanging out with the hosts, who are actually friends of my mom. They are closer to our age, though. My mom calls her an adopted daughter. She’s really nice. Ross is really nice. They have a little girl a year or two older than G. It’s nice to talk to someone not family.

S looking and feeling better. Something I recently noticed. I think it’s because he’s recently come off of some medicine he’s been taking. I don’t know if he’s noticed, because of all the changes and the stress we’re still struggling with, but soon, maybe.

Friday, April 25, 2008

4/25 The Day of Many Media and Peanut Butter and Jelly

G thought I had an ant on my sunglasses (he has a thing about ants) and I told him, no, there was no ant, but I looked like an ant when I wore them. And then I held my fingers up to my head and wiggled them about like antennae, and made little ant noises and tapped him with my wiggling antennae, and all of a sudden, everyone was an ant… creating finger/feelers with varying levels of success according to age and agility. Ivy, G, Mama, Papa. Everyone was an ant.

This is yesterday, but we got to see two hours of good, new sitcoms. Funny. And then, a new Lost. Been a long time and I miss real tv. What a terrible year for tv.

Reading a book before bed. I left my whole library in Brooklyn, but I borrowed a fantasy book from my mom, and I get to read a few minutes before I pass out. This is a big improvement in my ability to read for the past few months/years. A new, unfamiliar book? In no time at all, I’ll be back to reading the Pulitzer Prize winners.

A call from my mom midday, reminding me that we were invited to a barbecue. I don’t have to make dinner! Woohoo!

Watching Return of the King before nap. So inappropriate, but the boy loves it. The girl doesn’t even pay attention.

The happiness that peanut butter and jelly brings. So easy to make smiles.

Signed up for another blog website. I had some technical difficulties, but what else is new? It’s good to step into the global world, climbing out of my shadows. I have been working on expanding the reach of my blog, and I think it’s something that needs to be worked on quite often. But it feels like I am making small inroads.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

4/24 The Day of Art and Life, Life and Art

While the kids played in the garden, this morning, I took out my journal and my art kit that I have started carrying around in my bag, and drew a picture. I drew the kids at play in the garden. I figured it was good to integrate life and art, art and life.

Checking many nice blogs today while kids were napping. Commented upon some. I’ve noticed that I have gotten about three comments on my own blog in the past week, only one of which is from someone I know. I attribute this upswing not only to my own activity on my blog, but being more social, making friends on facebook, putting a signature on my email with a url, telling people about my blog, and making comments on other bloggers posts. It all adds up. Must keep it up.

Finding old friends on facebook. One of my favorite students, a friend from college and an ex-boyfriend who was always better as a friend than as a mate for me. Both guys are married, and I am very happy for them, and the student is living it up, and I am very happy for her.

My step father called and he’s about to come over to take me on a circuit of the town so I can drop my resume at various restaurants. That other restaurant never called back, so I am moving on. Life is about moving on, sisters and brothers. Being open to the possibilities.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

4/23 The Just A Regular Day With a Tea Party, Some Dancing, and a Movie

America’s Next Top Model. So silly. I loved seeing the girls in their stilettos fall on their asses in Rome. I loved how badly they did their Italian commercials. I mean, cringe and laugh uncomfortably bad. This wasn’t even an episode where I got to see artistic photos being made, just bad acting and girls who could use the maturity of a few more years. But I still enjoyed it.

And I had my chocolate ice cream with fudge swirls and peanut butter cups. No brownie batter, but a good substitution.

Dancing at bedtime, this time to papa playing the baby xylophone. “More, More!” the boy kept saying, as he and his sister danced around the room, happy.

Hanging out with Uncle and S, chatting, eating chocolate, getting ready to watch Knocked Up No cable here and bad reception, so we watch a lot of movies. Which isn’t a bad thing.

The kids playing under the little desk, like it was a play house. They had a toy tea set, and sat there sipping their cups and filling each up with the pitcher.

Slept late. Well, not on purpose. Couldn’t wake up. S had the littles until he had to go to “his throne” and then he got all pissy about me still being in bed. It was around ten o’clock. Can’t hardly believe I got to sleep into the double digits.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

4/22 Also the Day of Dancing and Pickles

S went out to get cigarettes (he’s been working on so many things that I’ve been letting the smoking slide) and came home with a jug of cheap wine. Sure it’s cheap, but it’s tasty and fun. And we are on quite the budget, so it’s that or nothing.

The idea that I might apply to be a contributor for a website. I was checking it out to see what I might like to write about. In the end, I think I should stick with the projects I already have going and make it something in the creativity and/or motherhood area.

The bedtime dance at bedtime. Sure, it prolonged bedtime a bit because they enjoyed it so much, but it went something like this, “Night night dance, night night dance, kiss mama, kiss papa, kiss Ivy, kiss G goodnight.” And the little guys marched around the room smiling and “lalalaing” spinning a couple of times until we ended the song on a grand note and ended the fun.

More good dinner things. G not only ate the tater tots, but he also ate the corn on the cob, and to top it off, he ate a half dozen pickles. That is THREE vegetables in one meal. Holy cow. On top of the green beans from yesterday, I’m wondering if we have broken the picky stage of eating.

4/22 The Day of Morning Realizations

Spending more time with S. This period of change and being unemployed has given us the opportunity to get to know each other again after the heavy duty lifting of having two kids in 20 months, and all the resulting stresses.

Nice hot shower. I realized that when I am in the shower, I do some major thinking. And generally it’s creative thinking. I come up with solutions. I plan out plots. I think about characters. I world build (as in creating an alien planet.) I dream about paintings. I write essays in my head. I mean, I do SERIOUS thinking. After these last couple of years when my creativity has been so anemic, it is nice to make that realization.

And gosh, what a wonderful breakthrough I had in the shower, about creativity and motherhood not being opposed to each other but actually being two sides of the same coin. I don’t have to steal from one to feed the other, I can let them both nurture life in general.

My little punk rock guy thrashing around to a Sesame Street song. He’s not a singer in general, but he was really rocking it out. I mean, it got a little wild and loud after a while, but it was still cute.

Monday, April 21, 2008

4/21 The Day of Everybody Eating Dinner and No Drama

I can’t believe I forgot this yesterday, but it was again confirmed at tonight’s dinner. The boy is eating greenbeans! The greenest of the green vegetables, it even has the word “green” in it, and he sits there chomping away. He has trouble chewing them, but I am afraid to cook them too much because I have the feeling that it is the crunchiness that attracts. But so far, so good.

Dinner in general was pretty happy. I made chicken breasts mishmosh out of whatever was in the kitchen, and it came out really well. I don’t think my uncle will mind that we used the dusty can of mushroom soup that was hidden in the back of the cabinet. We loved it. To be fair, I made the kids chicken without the sauce, but they thoroughly enjoyed their square meal of chicken, rice, and greenbeans. They also enjoyed the ice cream.

My friend started a blog with these inspirational emails she’s been sending out for a while. They are based around Goddesses and life lessons and such. For me, a blog is so much easier to read and to communicate with than a daily email… which is what she was doing, so I’m glad.

I am anticipating a yummy bowl of chocolate icecream with fudge swirls and peanut butter cups. Licking my lips at the thought. I’d better set it out so it can get soft.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

4/20 The Day of the Mainsail Festival

My Brother and soon to be sister in law showed up at the house unexpectedly and asked if I wanted to go to the art festival on the water front. This was just after my mom had cancelled on going with me. I was getting ready to go by myself. Nice surprise.

After a bad start (sunblock in G’s eyes, a bad reaction, lots and lots of tears,) we took our long walk to the bay. Once we started walking, the kids stopped crying. They really wanted to go for a walk in their stroller.

All the interesting houses in my neighborhood. So many different styles, bungalow, spanish, craftsman, colonial. All so different and so fricking cute.

As soon as we got to the festival, I turned around and S was there. In all the drama of leaving the house and the kid tears, we had a little spat and he didn’t come with us. But he must have gotten ready and walked faster than us to meet us so quickly.

G was still hiding his eyes (all red and puffy) until we looked at one of the art tent and there was a print of these animal people in the woods, and then he started smiling and he got very interested in the pictures and the tears and grumpies were over.

An ice cream bar. I chose chocolate ice cream, milk chocolate dipping, and crushed oreos and it was just like the old timey favorite “chocolate eclair bar.” That was the nail on the coffin of the grumpies. We all shared the ice cream, the boy got out of his stroller and played with Uncle M and perused the art tents and sat on the grass to see the birds and the ocean, and it was all lovely.

Ivy’s chocolate covered grin. Four teeth, endless amusement.

4/19 The Day of The Jacaranda Supper

It makes me happy that I do not seem to be getting a full blown cold like I was afraid. Knock on wood.

We went to dinner at my moms and she invited a few other people, couple friends of hers who were our age or had shared interests. It was nice to get out and socialize a little bit.

G played so independently at grandma’s, running into the spare room where the toys are and digging around in the boxes until he found something good, and I didn’t really have to stand over him and watch him every moment. Maybe we are getting to the point where that is possible most places?

G found a little plastic fishing pole, and I told him he should go fishing in a shoebox full of little toys and figurines, and he thought that was a good idea. So while I was in the kitchen with mom and the other women, I would hear an occasional squeal and then he would come running out with one or another toy hooked on the line to show everyone.

My mom’s peach sangria. Yum!

The dinner table my mom set up outside under the jacaranda tree, with a centerpiece of orchids and a lace table and pretty china and a pitcher of yet more peach sangria. This was the table for the women. The men were in the backyard, without any of the fanciness, but with the kids. tee hee.

After dinner, sitting out in the back on the swing, all the kids getting a twilight ride.

G got to watch some Jimmy Neutron before we left.

Changed the kids into pajamas before we left, and when we got home, they went straight from the carseats to the beds.

Friday, April 18, 2008

4/18 The Day of Poetry and Porkchops

Sitting out in the garden after dinner, with S and the kids and Uncle. Feeling like Uncle is really part of the family…I mean, he’s always been a part of MY family, but he’s part of the family unit, even if he’s slightly (with good reason) afraid of the little ones.

Porkchops with mushrooms and rice. Nice and hearty, stick to your ribs kind of dinner. Boy and girl both really enjoyed the pork. Next time will pair with more G friendly sides. Or maybe just some sliced apples.

I DID NOT MAKE THE PORK CHOPS!!!! That’s right. S made dinner. I even took a photo for proof. To be fair, he has made pasta once and rice and beans once, although even he admitted it was more like mess hall cooking. It’s nice to not have to cook and still eat a square meal at home.

Got some writing done in my book. Not an hour’s worth of work, but I did manage about 500 words. Slowly, I think I am building my practice back up.

Read some of my old poetry. Some was too private and obscure and symbol laden, but some was actually good.

Wrote a poem. And another something that might count as a poem or perhaps serve as the start of another poem. Poetry is one of those muscles that need to be exercised in order to be functional.

Fell asleep after dinner, and woke up 20 minutes later not feeling worse… which all actually means I am getting sick. I don’t nap unless I am sick, I can’t. That’s not a happy thing, really, but it explains my abominable mood. So it’s not me that’s the bitch, it’s my cold.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

4/17 The Day of Colds and Some Non-Kid Things

Funny sitcoms, particularly 30 Rock and The Office. There was snorting involved.

A good email from a good friend. Actual communication because I caught her while she was on line so she wrote back right away.

That the boy actually fell asleep in our bed when he woke up so early, after waking up every half hour all night with a miserable cold. We all got a couple more hours of much needed sleep. Usually, he is unable to sleep in our bed with us. (It has been a struggle to come up with things today. Colds make for not so happies.)

Watching movies with the adults.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

4/16 The Day of Interviews and Perfect Walks

Leftovers in general, and last night’s leftovers in particular. What a lovely quick lunch. Oven fried chicken and rice with peas. The peas tasted particularly good in the rice. Yay mama.

The weather. It is quite cool for Florida, cool enough for the heat to come on in the house, but for a walk, it is brilliant. There’s not a cloud in the sky and the sun is nice and hot, but the air still has the little nip, so you never get too hot or too cool as you walk.

Walking the nine or so blocks back to the house from the interview, I called my old friend N to tell her that they would be calling her for a reference. We’ve worked together on and off since 1994. So good to hear from her. She’s taking drawing classes and is enraptured with it. I knew she had an artistic sensibility, but she was always insecure about painting or drawing. I do wish she was around, but at least we can talk on the phone and reconnect.

While talking on the phone with N, I started describing where I was and what I was doing and what I was seeing right there in the moment. I told her about the bright blue sky and the tall palm trees and the broad oaks and the pretty bungalows that I was passing as I walked. And, oh! the huge jasmine vine covering a fence. Aside from the various happinesses of all these things, it made me happy to be in the present and paying attention to it as it happened.

Taking a sprig or two of jasmine from the sprawling vine and tucking it in buttonhole of my jacket (yes, it is cool enough for a light jacket.) Then coming home and putting the jasmine into an old aspirin bottle. I intend to put it on my bedside table. Yes. I do. That’s a very good idea.

Making a fresh pot of coffee after deciding that one pot is not enough for three coffee fiends (uncle is on vacation this week, working on his cartoons feverishly and needs sustenance.) Usually I just sit and grumble about how every body is drinking my coffee and have a cookie or two instead.

Oh, and I haven’t got the job yet, but it seemed like a good possibility. The hours are just right to give me enough time with the kids and not be too hard to cover with childcare when S gets a job. That has to be a plus for them, because they said it was difficult to find someone who only wanted a few shifts, not full time. And I think it helped that I have lots of family here and that I was a teacher, since both bosses have connections to teaching. I guess I’m just waiting for the yay or nay call.

One good thing about not getting the job immediately is that I can be on vacation for a little longer. Don’t have to jump up and start working right away. Well, if being a full time mom to two toddlers is ever a vacation. Heck, a job waiting tables might be the vacation.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

4/15 The Day of The Young Bart Simpson, Live and Fighting Bedtime

My dinner came out well. Oven fried chicken with rice and peas sauteed in butter, pepper and salt. Everyone ate it but the boy, who might still be off from his encounter with the floor.

It made me feel virtuous to eat green vegetables, because I don’t nearly enough. I don’t even buy them because I’m so sick of people not eating them.

G and Ivy enjoying the hobby horses. Granted, I had to hold Ivy and the hobby horse and go “riding” around the room as if we were both on the horse, but both G and Ivy loved the game. We rode around the room making horsey noises.

Pancakes for lunch. It was really my late breakfast, but the kids saw me eating them and came up and demanded I feed them the pancakes. Basically, they stole my breakfast.

Running around in the garden with G, I realized that with G’s puffy lip from his fall yesterday, he looks JUST like Bart Simpson. Wild hair, Overbite/duckbill. Crazed lunatic like behavior. Don’t have a cow man. He’s a lot younger, but give him a few years.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

4/13 The Day of We Like to Stomp and We Like to Sleep (aka things we do on the floor)

The boy, who has been in the habit of getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor in front of the door, fell asleep on his mat… which in brilliant mom fashion, I placed on the floor [away from the door.] Sleeping nice and deeply, he is, with none of the upheaval and running around after sundown. And what did mama do? She left him there. It’s nice and warm and smooth and for some reason he had no trouble falling asleep tonight. Connection?

Made some of my chili for dinner. All the grown ups ate it.

Little girl likes to dance. It looks a lot like stomping around the room, sometimes on tippy toes. And when mama did some stomping too, she laughed and laughed and laughed.

My cousin brought her kids over today for a little while. Her oldest is also named G and he looks a lot like she did when she was little. Her youngest is a girl just a couple months younger than my G and they played and watched Dora, and G liked her flashing shoes.

Monk was on NBC. I’d seen it before, but it was fun to see. And Uncle has never seen Monk at all.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

4/12 Also the Day of Grocery Store Shopping Vroom Vroom

Grocery shopping with the whole family. We got the kids into the big cart with the race car seats for them, and we steered that monstertruck through the store. Luckily, it was nothing like the rinky dink grocery stores in Brooklyn. They don’t have that much more food, but they have so much more room.

The kids got a FREE cookie at the bakery counter. I knew I’d seen kids with cookies, I just didn’t know they were giving them to kids for free. How cool is that.

We got a ball each for the little guys. They left most of their balls behind, so I thought it was a good treat.

Chocolate ice cream with peanut butter cups and moosetracks fudge. Yum.

Friday, April 11, 2008

4/11 The Day of Dinner at The Ring Side Cafe (where, as a side note, my mom met my stepfather.)

Hugging G. He is very active in his hugs now. Not just a baby, but a little boy who snuggles and wraps his legs around you and hangs on to your neck and if you’re not careful, licks you.

Hugging Ivy. She’s so round and squishable. G was always wiry, Ivy is like a bunny.

Kids who eat their whole meal, chicken tenders and french fries. And eat until they’re all filled up. No stress dinner when it’s chicken and french fries.

Borrowing my mom’s jeep big enough for the car seats and going for dinner as a family. We don’t have a lot of money, but the cheap dinner out sometimes is a way to keep morale up.

And no matter what changes, the consensus is that our kids are adorable. Everyone loves them, north OR south of the Mason Dixon line.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

4/10 The Day of How We Make The Road as We Walk

Having pizza on the deck.

Not having to cook dinner tonight, because I seem to be cooking almost every night. Before, I could manage leftovers or something frozen or take out or walking down the street to get a slice of pizza or feeding the kids chicken nuggets and me eating a bowl of cereal, so I didn’t always have to cook full meals, but now S is always here for dinner and my uncle eats too sometimes and there are just not as many leftovers. I’m getting exhausted.

Messing around on Facebook. I guess I’m getting what they were all saying about it being addictive now. It might be the whole moving away from home thing that has me trying to get into touch with people. I’ve gotten in touch with a bunch of college friends and now some old students. One of my girls, who was morbidly obese, now looks positively svelte and gorgeous, and I can’t wait to have her confirm my request. Don’t tell the others, but she was always one of my favorite kids.

Oh and I was playing around with the vampire function and attacked my sister and my cousin and a friend and got leveled up to the next vampire stage. Then I sent them all some good karma. Now that’s balance, huh?

Oh, I forgot. I wrote a poem and drew a picture. They may not be pro quality, but it’s about the journey, and we make the road as we walk.

Taking a different route on the kids’ walk, going an extra block and seeing the cool houses and old trees. One house had a big banyon tree and a big oak tree on either side of their door. Very cool.

4/9 Also the Day of Taco Pie and Family in the Garden

Family dinner last night. Truly, this is the reason we moved down here. Family.

We sat out in the garden and ate taco pie (still not quite sure what it is, but it was good,) and drank margaritas and beer and milk or coke for those who don’t drink.

Ivy started out shy and wouldn’t talk to anyone, but by the end, she was running back and forth, grinning and clapping her hands. And she kissed everyone good night, after a little warm up.

G of course was in his element: the center of attention. Climbing on everyone, getting tossed in the air, making faces, etc. And he got to stay up late. At one point, he took his blankie and his bobo and lay down on the porch step, but then he got his second wind and was up and running again.

I made peanut butter and jelly and apples for the kids’ dinner, because I knew grandma was coming with food, but it would be too late for dinner for them, although they could have some when it was ready (Ivy had some, G refused it [from everyone, and despite the many tricksy reverse psychology maneuvers attempted by all.]) PB&J means no drama at dinner.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

4/9 The Day of the Many Happy Things Despite My Head Being Wrapped Up in Seaweed

G discovered the joys of a cardboard box and thence it became a boat upon the open seas.

When he got out of the boat, I said, “now you’re in the water, are you going to swim?” and that is what he did, get down on the floor and make swimming motions. Big smile upon his face.

And Ivy wanted to be in the boat, too, so then it was a two man boat, with lots of giggles.

Cleaning the fish pond of its seaweed swamp. I cleared it out, G took it off of my tool and put it in piles. Ivy played in the heaps of wet green strands.

Got my sister to join Facebook. She almost never does the things I suggest, but apparently I was not the only one who had invited her.

When a facebook friend asked about the subject of my novel and I had to go look up my one line summary because I couldn’t remember it… but that’s okay, because it brings the story back to my head.

Looking at my cousin’s Wicca site and thinking it was a pretty cool thing for her to do, and sending her an email maybe possibly giving her another venue if she is interested in going there. I like to be of help, although it may not seem like it at present with my envelopment in the mothering process.

Oh, yeah, my mom called and reminded me she is coming over for dinner and bringing something called “taco pie” and stuff for margaritas. Can’t wait.

Oh, good. Many happy things this morning. That’s a relief, because I have felt very fuzzy headed this morning and a little lost. I want to try JulieJordanScott’s ideas [still to come] but I’ve been so cranky and off.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

4/8 Also The Day of Now I'm Pooped

impromptu, acoustic dance party in the tv room. G started clapping his and Ivy’s milk cups together to make a beat, and then started dancing and wanted everyone to watch. Then papa started playing the tv tray with a down beat. Then mama clapped her hands along. Then Ivy decided she would clap her hands too, and then both she and G were dancing, dancing, dancing and they never wanted it to stop.

Cute little Golden Book where Theodore Goes to Sea.

G and Ivy ate everything on their plates. Granted I made G’s favorites of hamburger and tater tots, and I didn’t give him the tomato salad or even the mac and cheese, which he won’t eat (Wait? What? No mac and cheese? Huh?) But there was no dinner drama.

Nice walks where we made discoveries and apologized to flowers that were trampled and met doggies who were nice and neighbors who were boorish who we now know to avoid.

4/8 The Day of Documenting the Little Things

A butterfly floated through the garden. It was beautiful with orange and black and white. Uncle said it had probably just emerged from its cocoon and was still drying its wings.

Cinnamon toast. Now if only I could get the kids to stop eating my toast.

The fun of the old fire truck that we pulled out of Uncle’s closet. Big, sliding ladder. Wooowooowoooo!

The soft moss we found growing on the stone wall under the oak tree.

Looking back at the pictures I took this morning and realizing that I had done a pretty good job of documenting the morning, our ordinary morning. It was cool.

The thing about moving is that you are really aware of those daily moment to moment happenings that are what your life consists of. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so focused on this list. Also trying to stay positive and not be overwhelmed by all the changes.

Monday, April 07, 2008

4/7 The Day of Cutting Teeth and Making Friendeds

Ivy’s front tooth, broken through at last. Lets hope that’s the end of the writhing and hysterics. (Haha. I’m sure there will be another 17 years of some variation on that. At least.)

Watching the end of the third Pirates of the Caribbean. Really enjoyed it, even want to see it again. The second was so bad that it was an especially nice surprise.

Had some conversations with some friend on Facebook. I have spent a while not understanding the whole facebook thing. Why not just email? But I suppose theres something to be said for the ease of checking in, so I even friended some people I left behind in NY.

The way kids are happy and adventuring, even when adults are stressed. Well, unless that was Ivy’s nervous stomach responding to our stress. Hmmm.

My can and uncle’s cat are now not only enduring being in the same room, but they are apparently seeking each other out to make friends and influence felines. Either that or my cat is stalking him and is about to pounce.

4/6 The Day of All Day Rain and Sleeping In a Little

Got to sleep in. That was nice. Then woke up and took a shower without kids hanging off of me.

The Sunday paper. My uncle always gets the paper, since he works for them. It’s not nearly as weighty as the NYT sunday paper, so I can actually get through a lot of it.

Many sudoku. I went through the back issues of the papers to find them.

Upside down Ivy. She loves to go upside down, and if you hold her that way, she will (literally) hang out for as long as she can.

A rainy day. I like the sound of rain, and the fresh air and the cool breeze and the opportunity to cuddle in a sweater and stay in. Also getting caught in the rain, and watching the kids splash around in the puddles.

Dinner! Everyone ate! Oven-fried chicken, farm fresh corn on the cob, and tater tots for the tater tots. Chianti for the adults.

After a protracted bedtime, sitting on the porch with S, watching the rain fall and talking.

Then we watched the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie, which was MUCH better than the second one. We didn’t get to finish it because it was too long and it was time for bed, but that just means I have the rest of the movie to look forward to.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

4/5 The Day of "Creatures and Mayhem" and That's a Good Thing

Went out with my mom. We went shopping… or she went shopping and I came along, mostly. I did get the kids some used cartoon videos, but tried not to shop as it is not in the budget.

The hugeness that was Publix. I am not used to such big and busy grocery stores. Busy meaning it seemed to be like a community center, not just teeming and crowded with testy shoppers, like in Brooklyn.

The little used bookstore my mom took me to. It was so cozy, with different genre rooms and some finches in the window and seats scattered through out. It wasn’t actually that small.

Stopping for coffee and sharing a cinnamon roll with my mom and talking science fiction and other things.

G encountering a ladybug for the first time, letting it crawl around on his arm and giggling.

Ivy in her bed, kept raising her head to look at me, saying “mama” and I would say, “I love you.” and she would say “mama” and I would say “I love you.” and then she would smile and we’d do it again, and sometimes she would say “night night” and I would say “I love you.” and then she would giggle, and this went on until I finally just shut the door.

Uncle’s interpretation of my family (and his stories about me, like how I always put too much milk in my cereal and leave it and have since I was 4) Ivy is a sweetheart. G is dramatic. S has the soul of a poet and the heart of a pirate. That last had to be noted down because it was such a good line.

Uncle also said that he likes having us here because we get him out of his strange world. “I live in a world of creatures and mayhem,” he said. “And now they’re running around in your house. The boy is mayhem, and the girl is the creature.”

4/4 The Day of Winding Down

S cooked dinner. He made New Orleans style red beans and rice. I didn’t have to do anything… although I did do more cleanup.

Chocolate. ‘Nuff said.

Syndicated sitcoms. I don’t know why I love them, but they put a cap on my day and help me relax and rewind.

Ivy and G holding hands as they walk down the sidewalk.

Finding childhood pictures of my mom and one of my uncles which are deadringers for G. All of a sudden, his looks make sense.

Friday, April 04, 2008

4/4 The Day of Fresh Picked Grapefruits

Picking grapefruits off of our very own grapefruit tree. Well, it’s my uncle’s grapefruit tree, but he says he’s not that into grapefruits. The whole episode made the kids morning, watching me with the long stick and basket trying to capture the big round fruit.

One grapefruit was as big as Ivy’s head!

Man they were tasty, too. Didn’t even need sweetening. Is it just that they were free or that they were really good?

Going for a walk the kids, just up and down the street, but there were many things to see and explore.

Chasing G around with Ivy… I mean, I held Ivy out and chased him around as if Ivy was the weapon. Much squealing and laughter.

Call from old friend just touching bases.

Finished the book I’ve been reading for the last four months. It wasn’t my favorite of her books, but it was still good. Especially the ending.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

4/3 After Settling In, A Good Day

That S cleaned up all the toys we’d left in the tv room while I made dinner. Usually clean up is my duty, being the sahm, but while we have both been “on vacation” I am not the only one.

Crispy bacon. (But beware the eatus toomuchus. It leads to upsetus stomachus.)

Ivy kisses and hugs. She purses her little lips and leans into it. Sometimes she goes french.

Ivy’s big round belly.

The word “rotund.”

Reminding S that this was living, and it was pretty good, as he sat out in the garden, the blue sky above, the lush green, the trickling fountain into the fish pond, all as he was trying to deal with his native temper and impatience with the little ones and the world in general.

Return of the King on my uncle’s giant projection screen. G loves the hobbits, and he has actually seen the first movie multiple times (at first by accident, and then on purpose when I realized he could handle it.) He didn’t sit through the whole 3 hours, but bopped around playing, although he kept coming in to focus down. It got pretty scary for a while, he said it was “good scary,” but we almost turned it off. Then we got into the end of the movie, where Frodo is almost defeated, and G was so upset… but when he succeeded and Frodo wakes up in Gondor after being taken away from Mordor by the giant eagles, G gasped with joy. And then for the rest of the movie where everything is wonderful, he kept saying “more, more!” I’m afraid we have a boy who has been enraptured by movies.

Now past bedtime (with a wired young boy) and S and I are watching the special features/making of the movies. Making The Lord of The Rings is sometimes more amazing than the actual movie.

4/3 The Day of Settling Into Patterns

This morning having coffee and doing crosswords/sudoku with S while the kids ate their cheerios and drank their milk and played. They are just a little bit self sufficient… enough to get as many cheerios into their mouths as on the floor.

Ivy’s cute blue and red and white gingham dress.

G’s khaki shirt and pants.

Ivy has discovered raisins. She nods her head vigorously when I ask if she likes them.

And G ate three handfuls of them. Maybe it will help him in the regularity department, because goodness, that is some wild drama. Uncle thought we were torturing the poor boy, and he was just pooping.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

4/2 Also the Day of the Moments After

Storm clouds rolling in, charcoal colored and bringing a cold wind to the semi tropical garden.

I love the sound of rain and thunder.

ANTM! And someone cried! I shouldn’t take such glee in these girls’ tears, but they are usually for very silly things, most often hair. So glee I take.

The moment when the kids stop crying in their room, no longer calling for mama, no longer asking for just one more stuffed animal perched on the bed, no longer needing yet another diaper change, no longer clamoring for just one more goodnight kiss and hug, no longer avoiding sleep and just… go… to… sleep.

And then, the moment, a couple hours later, when I have decompressed and relaxed and no longer feel flattened and exhausted.

Oh, the Frank O’Hara poem I read… Avenue A. So great. I should go write something.

4/2 The Day of Committing to Happy Details All Day Long

Ivy’s pucci print inspired sundress in green and pink and black swirls. When she is in the garden, she almost blends in with the tropical gardenness of it all.

Making a list of things that G discovers in the garden.
a grapefruit half eaten by fruit rats
a swarm of fruit flies
a key lime, still good
a black snake, making it’s escape
a nice long new stick
a couple of rocks
a purple plastic fish dropped by a girl
a little brown lizard
the beginning swell of a baby citrus fruit, fallen off the tree before it could ripen.

Recommitting to poetry even though the goal scares the bejeebers out of me.

Making the decision to write down things for this list, even if the day is not done, because I keep forgetting good things by the end of the evening, partly because I am so tired then. And I want to pay attention to the details… maybe I’m thinking that I can turn them into poetry.

Ivy’s hair is coming in and it’s starting to ruffle a little on the top. I might soon be able to put some barrettes in there.

Pancakes for lunch, with lots of butter and syrup.

An extra cup of coffee. S is around all the time and drinks all my coffee before I can get to it. I had to make a new pot… well, I suggested “we” make a new pot, and S did it.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

4/1 The Day of Tots, Tater, Screaming, and Giggling

Setting up all G’s stuffed animals around the head and guard rails of his bed. They are all sitting up there, hanging out. It made him so happy. Of course, in the end all he cared about was that he was missing his little fishies, but when we came in with some fishies a few minutes later, he gasped in happiness and the crying stopped immediately.

Saw an absolutely ginormous spider making a web in a tree outside the house. I mean, like 2 or 3 inches across. I tried to take some pictures but I don’t think my camera was good enough. Scaryvelous.

Ate dinner at the burger joint, with grandpa and grandma. The kids discovered tater tots and were totally engrossed. The kids also danced and bopped their head to the guy who was singing.

Grandma is making inroads on getting Ivy to play with her. Ivy is very shy and mamacentric. She hides in mama’s shoulder when grandma comes along, but grandma still got some giggles and smiles finally.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

3/30 The Day of The Once Picky Eater and Her Wild Things

After dinner, milk sippy time, and Ivy had a little spill. G pointed out to me and seemed to want me to clean it up. I got a paper towel and gave it to him, and he ran over and wiped up the spill. Then Ivy got a hold of it and started wiping too, she wiped the table too. That excited G apparently, because when he got the paper towel back, he went off like a whirling dervish wiping every surface he could reach. Clean, clean, clean. He couldn’t get enough of it and it made him so happy to wipe everything down. My plan is to keep this going and hand him some dishes and a sponge as soon as it is feasible.

Chubby little Ivy running around the room while G got his story read. I think she knew Where the Wild Things Are at least enough to jump up when the wild rumpus started.

Checking in with some good blogs that I hadn’t read in a while. There’s some good writing out there.

I made a real meal. Well balanced, hearty, tasty. Meatloaf (with some veggies in it,) carrots with a sweet and salty glaze and some rice with a squeeze of key lime from the tree. I ate, the girl ate, the papa ate (although only two baby carrots) the boy however did not eat a bite, although he tried both the carrots and the meatloaf when I made it into a sandwich. He spit them both out, reacting violently to the onion, I think. Just didn’t like it. He got a reheated mini hamburger and was delighted. Even my uncle skipped the carrots, as anti-veggie as he is.

I said something about, “How strange it is that I am the least picky person in this house.” My uncle laughed, because he is the only person here who knew me when I was a kid and would only eat food if it was pink or red. On the plus side, if I was that picky and can now eat and cook all sorts of foods, then perhaps a picky child is not the sentence of doom that you always think when nothing gets eaten at dinner.

Catching most of the BBCSense and Sensibility even if it’s not very good reception.

3/29 The Day of Grown Up Lady Things and High Tea

Leaving the house, despite babies crying and toddling towards me, arms outstretched, “mamamamamama!” My mother had to actually pull me out of the door to keep me from dragging the parting out.

Stopping for a coffee on our drive, where I got checked out by some hot Italian guy talking on his cel phone. Maybe I am not completely mommied out.

Driving out to St Pete beach, where my future SIL was having a bridal shower. Driving around down there, since we were early, looking at all the houses on the water, some mansions, some cottages… thinking it would be a really cool thing to rent a little house out on the beach for a year or two, enjoying the best of St Pete, before we pack up and move on to California (this would be before we had to send G to school.)

Meeting SILs family and friends and realizing that I am not as antisocial as I thought I was. I did quite fine in the room full of strangers, being helpful, making jokes, getting along. That’s right. This period of isolating childrearing is not actually the totality of who I am.

High Tea. Tea in a tea pot, little sandwiches, scones. Fruit w chocolate. Oh, and Mimosas.

I won one of the games at the shower, a memory game where I had to list all the items she’d shown from a bag. I only missed one. I am not as mommy-brained as I thought I was.

Meeting up with S and the kids and my step father after the shower. Realizing that without me around all the time, Ivy does a lot friendlier and is less clingy when she does see me next. Time for mama to get out more.

Uncle sharing some of his old work (animation) with us, and then telling us the plot of this serial story he was working on. Great story. I think it should be a novel, myself, and I am trying to convince him that he should write it. He once wrote a science fiction novel that was pretty good, but gave up on getting it published.

Spending some quality time with S. He seems to be getting back to himself which is a good thing all around.

Friday, March 28, 2008

3/28 The Day of Mama's Mini Escape, Mwahahaha

Changing the girl, who didn’t want to sit or stand still and as I was wiping her butt, she ran off… and the wipe was stuck in her buttcrack. So the little girl is running around the room, with a babywipe stuck to her tush. She started going in circles trying to get it out, even, like a puppy. Then I showed G what was going on and he and I were both laughing hysterically. Finally I caught her and finished the diaper change.

G’s new love of hamburgers in a bun. Yes, something he will eat. Woohoo. Of course, guess what baby girl won’t eat it.

Got out of the house today, because my mom needed me to go with my stepfather and choose a shower present for my soon to be sister in law. He ended up picking the present on his own, but I helped him figure out how to get the registry list and all that. They wrapped our gifts there, too.

Then we played hooky and went to get a burger and a beer. Mwahahaha.

G and Ivy in the back garden when we got back, playing with some buckets and water. G had me pour the bucket over his head and then he splashed around in the puddles. I guess we need to get a kiddie pool.

Just now, G wanted to find papa and Ivy, so I took him out to the front where they were talking to some neighbors down the street who have a boy just G’s age and another boy 6 months old. Nice people. G and the boy played with his trike. We chatted, they invited us to stop over anytime we saw them out there to play.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

3/27 The Day of Sing It With Me! _Get the Poopy Out!_

Trying to help G poopy, and singing silly songs to make him smile, “we get the poopy out, we get the poopy out, we push, shove poopy them out.” Or saying maybe he should let the poopy out because “the poopy wants to go home to the diaper, he would like the potty even better, but would be okay with the diaper.” Or showing him that the poopy comes out like his hand comes out of his pajama sleeves. This is what you will do to get a kid who doesn’t like to poopy just to GO ALREADY!

Then G poopies and he starts laughing and dancing about. If you feel so happy and nice now, why can’t you just go ahead and poopy kid?!

I call from an ex boyfriend who always was a better friend than boyfriend. Just catching up for a little, when he heard that I moved.

Thinking about things I want to accomplish while I’m down here and doing research to figure out the steps to take. I’m not DOING anything yet, but I am getting ready to.

3/26 The Day of Family Time Plus One

A nice conversation with my uncle before bed. In part it was about getting a job, talking about where I might wait tables or something, and then some talking about the possibility of me teaching again. He says I seem to have a passion for it, which is true, but also why it’s so hard to do it sometimes when the politics of it all seem to be out to destroy all the things you worked for. He also understood why I wouldn’t want to jump into teaching now, while I am still undecided about where to settle.

Another conversation with my uncle in Georgia. He actually told me that his step daughter made 300 dollars a shift working in restaurants down here… which is good news for me.

Got to see ANTM, even if it was without my previous tradition of the brownie batter feast.

Having a family dinner with the whole family, including Uncle. I even made a simple salad to go with our frittata.

G trying to help Uncle with raking the garden. And then later, helping him put the gardening tools back in the shed.

The first few times G crosses his arms and says, “no!” It’s really cute. And then the following few hundred times? Not so much.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

3/25 The Day of Girls Chasing Cats and/or Boys around the Kitchen

Ivy chasing the cat around and around the kitchen, giggling the whole way. The cat must have been enjoying it, because she kept going around too.

Ivy is such a walker. She has places to go and things to do. And she will tell you about them, too, even if it’s just “blalalalabla”

Walking into the kids’ bedroom to find them playing, Ivy smooshing her face up against the mesh of the travel crib, and G playing peekaboo.

G waking up from his nap actually happy and smiling and playing, because all morning he had been miserable and sick. Infact, the only one in the family not sick was Ivy.

G eating his hamburger in a roll like a big boy. Actually, eating it any way. He’s a slender boy, and when he has a stint of feeling yucky and not eating, he gets down right skinny, so that he ate the whole hamburger was a plus.

G pretending to be a cat, and Ivy, in her pink night gown, chasing him around and around the kitchen while he meowed.

Story time, and cries of “one more! one more!” They didn’t get as many books as they wanted, but they kept going to the bookcase and bringing back more books to read.

Monday, March 24, 2008

3/24 The Day of Old Photo Albums, I Mean OOOOLD

Was looking through some of my uncle’s old photo albums. I mean, these are OOOOOLD photo albums. Turn of the century photos, turn of the LAST century, that is. Pictures of women in floor length skirts and aprons, the roaring twenties, 30s and 40s. These are the kind of photos that you see in magazines. So iconic. I can’t believe these people are my relatives.

The next book I pulled out was a surprise. The first picture I saw was one of my from when I was 8 years old. Haven’t seen my school pictures in decades. This book was a few pictures of my generation as children, but mostly my mom and uncles. So cool.

I showed G a picture of my mom and me when I was about Ivy’s age, and he kissed the picture.

My mom’s childhood seemed so idyllic. Cowgirl outfits, ponies, little fluffy chicks, flower beds, ponds.

I also see a little bit of G in my mom as a child. She has said that she is a little disappointed that he does not look like me, but looks mostly like S. I think his looks might have actually skipped a generation.

3/23 Easter at Grandma's

Going to Grandma’s for Easter dinner. The kids found all grandma’s toys and had a blast. G particularly loved it.

G playing with Grandma’s dog in the yard. He would race around, and G would try to catch him. Try, only try. Made him laugh hysterically.

My brother and his fiance came over and brought easter baskets for the kids, which is nice, because I totally spaced on doing easter. We aren’t religious, so that isn’t an issue, but the traditions and the celebration of Spring are lovely.

G going ZOMBIE BOY on the chocolate bunny. He ripped the box open and didn’t even wait to get it out of the plastic before he bit its butt off.

Having other people to pick Ivy up. She is in a hugely clinging phase right now, and is always crying mamamamamamamama. But if aunt Melissa or Grandma wanted to try, there was at least someone to hold her.

Ivy’s cute little outfit in green and white toile with a sheer bow tie on the back. Even G wore a button up shirt.

Guy bonding on the porch and girl talk inside while we watched the rerun of ANTM, which I missed this week.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

3/22 The Rainy Saturday

Reading bedtime stories to the kids with the whole family (including the now-famous cat) in my grandpa’s bed.

My uncle saying that my grandpa would have enjoyed this: having his house and his garden being explored by toddlers fascinated with nature, water, plants, bugs, fish, dirt, whatever.

Seeing my cousin again without any of the drama that goes down with other family members and her. Even better, seeing her daughter, who is G’s age and having the two kids get along great, having fun playing.

Actually napping while the kids napped. I must be tired-er than I think if I can nap during the day. Usually I can’t. Maybe it helped that it was raining out. It’s also nice that I can see so many trees outside my bedroom windows. It’s almost like sleeping in a tree house.

Letting G splash in the downpour in the garden. He didn’t need to come in out of the rain, he could play until he wanted to come in, it was warm enough. And then we towelled him off and put him in sweat pants and gave him a nap.

Taking a short walk with the kids (G brought his magnifying glass) and no stroller, just exploring the neighborhood, only coming home when the light drizzle turned into real rain.

Eggs and bacon and english muffins and grapefruit juice for brunch.

G’s absolute joy at getting to see Saturday morning cartoons… his tv intake has been severely curtailed, but god those cartoons allowed me to take a breath from the increasingly hyper boy. It is no coincidence that we took our walk once the cartoons ended.

3/21 The Day of Going Out on the Town for the First Time in Three Years

Having our first date since the day before G was born, except for one wedding, which hardly even counted. We had dinner and drinks at a Garden restaurant with live Jazz then walked around downtown for a little. It’s strange to be in this new city…. and it really is a new city, a few years ago, nothing was going on downtown, and now it’s hopping.

Not wanting to call my mom and ask her to babysit while we check out the restaurant that I could drop my resume at, but not needing to, because she called just as I was considering calling and offered. Yay grandma!

G’s joy at playing watergun fight with the shark and dolphin watergun that S bought.

G’s wonder when Papa showed him a snake in the garden. He was still talking about it hours later.

Ivy dressed like a little hippie girl and toddling around the house.

3/20 The Day of Kung Fu Fighting Hiyah!

Got to watch Lost. TV is not a big thing here, no cable, old, turn-knob tvs, no remotes, even, but I managed to get ABC in and watch my Lost. Missed ANTM yesterday. Oh well. Perhaps this low tv period will break the addiction and I can start being more productive again. Here’s to hoping.

Going through my pictures since I got here. I’ve taken some really good ones. Unfortunately, the computer situation is weird. I got on the internet on my laptop, and then was unable to again. Don’t know why. Have to figure it out, but all my photos are on my laptop, so until I get back on line, that is where they will stay. And I want to send out pictures of the kids, so that those that were worried about us will feel better, because those are some happy pictures.

We were sitting out in the garden just hanging out, and I started singing that song, “they were kung fu fighting, those cats were fast as lightning.” And G all of a sudden went into Kung fu poses. Hiyah! I don’t know where he got it from, but it was pretty funny. I got a great picture of it. Too bad y’all can’t see it until I figure out the technicalities.

Omygoodness. I forgot about splashsplash time in the big bathtub. They enjoyed it, the kids did. So much better than our grungy old claustrophobic tub in Brooklyn.

3/18

Having a nice dinner of corned beef and cabbage with most of my family, mom, step dad, brother and his fiancee, uncle, S, and the kids. Was good to see everyone and have everyone around.

Taking a nap most of the afternoon.

Taking a shower after the nap.

Getting my missing bag from the airline. It took a detour through Daytona. Good thing my mom was here to give the driver directions, because she didn’t know how to get here. Boy, that airline sure was a winner. (Don’t fly AirTran)

Watching the kids as they explored the garden. Oh they love it. Love it love it. They like the house, too, but they are getting a lot of new rules about what they can and can’t touch.

Watching my poor kitty explore the house and the garden. She is doing pretty darn well. She isn’t even having a problem with Uncle’s cat, some hissing, but that’s it. So much better than being in a tiny box for 8 hours.

3/19 The Day of the Long Walk

Hanging out with S and Uncle and G and Ivy. Sitting out in the garden, beers for the grown ups and milk for the littles. Birds singing. Fruit trees rustling in the breeze. Warm air. Night falling.

S and Uncle are getting along great. What a relief. And I think it’s good for Uncle that we’re here. I think he spends too much time alone and has too little human contact. He’s also enjoying the kids. He says we have great kids.

Tacos for dinner. Good old fashioned, easy to make, easy to gobble up. Been having trouble eating a full meal because I’m still stressed and tired and maybe going from the winter to the summer overnight, so tacos fit the bill.

Coming back after our long walk which was supposed to be a short walk, but we went too far and needed to get something to eat so we had to walk even farther to find a place, although there was much to see on the way, like the bay and a huge banyan tree and an art museum. Returning, we took the direct route instead of the scenic one, and it was much quicker.

Watching G play with uncle, and he was okay with G bonking him on the head and they seemed to be enjoying it from both ends. It would annoy the bejeezers out of me, but hey, if Uncle wants to play the game, then it’s okay.

Monday, March 17, 2008

3/17 The Big Day

Sitting in the car, all of us, Mama, Papa, G, Ivy and cat, puling away from the old apartment, saying thank you and good bye to our home.

Managing to get the kids, the stroller, six carry-on bags (2 per person,) all four of our shoes and coats through the security check in… especially since I learned I had to take the cat out of her carrier, take her through the metal detector, and put her back in the carrier on the other side…since it took me half and hour to get her in the carrier in the first place. And our plane was getting ready to take off. Someone actually told me she was very impressed with the way I managed the whole endeavor. Go mama.

Racing to the gate to find out our plane was late, so we didn’t miss it after all. Even though we were never allowed onto the plane when it did show, because the cat carrier didn’t fit under the seats and they didn’t have a carrier handy that they could let us use.

Then, two hours later, as our second plane was near to closing the doors with us still not having a carrier, the woman who kicked us off the first plane came RUNNING down the hall with the appropriate cat carrier, and we all managed to situate ourselves in time for the plane to take off with us inside of it.

Showing G the way we were flying ABOVE the clouds. He liked flying.

Having Ivy and G fall asleep on the plane (although we had to wake them up when we transfered in Atlanta, that’s right, our direct flight became a transfer.)

How much the kids loved the m&ms in the snack mix I made (cheerios, goldfish, raisins, and m&ms)

Taking out the little 50 cent magnadoodles and Ivy and G spending the last leg of our journey drawing.

Landing in St. Pete and steering the stroller through an almost empty airport (it was past midnight although we were originally supposed to arrive at 8pm) to go get our luggage, and knowing the journey was almost over.

Seeing my mom drive up to the luggage area and getting to hug her.

Then seeing my step father in the other car, which would allow us to carry all the luggage with out hassle or (anymore heart ache [even though the airline lost one of our bags {with my porfolio in it!}])

The smell of Florida air. It smells like green growing things, even outside the airport.

Pulling up to my uncle’s house and getting the bags all inside.

Seeing my Uncle again.

Having S get along with everyone he’s never met before.

Seeing G and Ivy’s room. They were so happy. My mom had it set up with a toddler bed and travel crib and an heirloom child’s desk that my uncles used and books and toys. So nice.

Falling asleep in the nice soft bed. It used to be my Grandpa’s bed, and it was so comfortable.

Knowing that the whole miserable day was over and done with, even though I still had to wait for my back and I was so tired and my fingers were bruised and cut from packing and my stomach hurt and I was so tired I couldn’t speak.

Monday, June 05, 2006

new blog

In case you check in here and are looking for me, or you just found it and would like to see more, I am now writing a different blog.

warriorgirl.blogspot.com

Monday, May 03, 2004

Real Life Heroes

We're living in an age of heroes, now.

I watch the news, and they keep naming people heroes. This guy died in the war, this kid died of cancer, this man died in a fire. Sometimes people are alive and they get named heroes-- people who make it home from war, people who survive cancer, people who get other people out of fires. Now, I'm not saying these people aren't heroes, necessarily, but I don't know if just suriving or dying in difficult situations actually makes one a hero. Does a heroic action make one a hero? Does dying? If it does, then doesn't that make ALL of us heroes, sooner or later?

An age of heroes...

Funny to think of it that way. As if we're in a Greek epic. As if we are living through the Greatest of times, with a capital "G".

What if we did think about it that way? What if we just got rid of all the cynism that said the world was all fucked up. What if we got rid of the romanticism that said some other time was better, some other age was the one with all the great deeds, some other people were the heroes.

What if we actually lived our lives as if WE were the heroes-- not some military leader in history, nor in fiction.

For that matter, what if we realized we didn't need some outside force to make us heroes-- nobody pinning a medal on our chests, no newspapers declaring us so. No key to the city here, just us and the choices we make.

Because that's what it's about, isn't it? The choices we make? It's about facing adversity in our lives and choosing the right path, even if it's harder. Choosing to struggle on because you know it is for the better. Sometimes those difficulties might be public enough to get you declared a hero in the papers, but frankly daily struggles can be just as difficult.

When I was a kid, I thought I was going through the craziest, most traumatic childhood. I thought being poor, living across the street from crack dens, having a crazy, unpredictable abusive father terrorizing our house was the worst thing I could have gone through. One of my main purposes in life was to hide what my life was like. It was so horrible, I was so shamed.

It wasn't until I was older that I realized I didn't do anything wrong, and stopped hiding. I shared my stories, and heard others, and that's when I realized that so many of those other stories were so much worse. More tragedy, more pain, more suffering. I started to minimize my story. It wasn't as bad. I didn't deserve to feel like I had survived anything really difficult. It was just normal life. I was just a normal kid, normal person. No hero, here.

I grew up identifying with the heroes. The first books I read were full of heroes, fairytales, myths, Little House on the Prairie, even. Characters who faced down adversity and won in the end. It helped me going through my own adversity, because I knew there was something better down the road... or I believed it anyway.

A hero is someone who not only faces down adversity, but also takes action to make things better, even if it is just selling the cow for a bunch of magic beans. They are not at the mercy of the world around them, but the active principle. The hero has the goal of something better, a better life for their kids, a better world for all kids, a better, stronger self.

Sometimes, I think the last one is the hardest goal of all-- making yourself better and stronger, so that you are better able to achieve the larger goals. Facing down your fear. Dealing with your past traumas. Opening up to the people and possiblities around you. Moving forward, always moving forward.

It's fricking exhausting to be the hero of your own story. It's so tiring to know that you are the one who has to make it all happen. No one else to do it for you-- no knight in shining armor-- unless that knight is you yourself.

Is it worth it all? Being a hero? Is it worth the hard work? When I'm struggling with being the me I want to be, I don't know. It doesn't feel like it. It's too damn hard. The results always seem to come so slow, or not at all. Certainly, there's no newspaper recognizing me for my struggle. And I still have to do the daily grind. Sometimes that daily grind is harder to deal with than the awfulness of my childhood. It's just not as clear, my struggle. It's just not as easy to say I will persevere. The goals of making things better just aren't as desperate.

The daily grind isn't that bad, really. I'm getting along, okay, letting life take me in it's flow.

So why bother struggling to be the hero?

I have to think about it, seriously. Why SHOULD I bother? Why should anyone? Why do we need heroes?

But then, imagine a world full of heroes-- and I don't mean the ones who dive into burning fires or get paid to carry guns, or make millions of dollars throwing a ball around-- I mean a world full of everyday heroes. A world of people struggling to be the best Them, so they could take action, and make things happen. Make things better. What if we weren't all just waiting for someone else to do it? What if everyone was working to contribute something?

Frankly, I think it would cause a lot of trouble. All those people at cross purposes-- all wanting DIFFERENT better worlds. It would throw a wrench into the nice easy works that have been going on for so long. (A good reason for the powers that be not to want everyone to be a hero.)

A world of heroes. An Age of Heroes. Every single one of us a hero, big or small, young or old, rich or poor. Hmmm.

Think about it....



Friday, April 23, 2004

I Have a Secret

I am a little bit of a monster.

You'd never be able to tell from the outside. From the outside, I am small and pretty, just a girl. I dress in skirts and heels, and have even on occasion been called things like "fancy," and "girly-girl." (to which I strongly object.) I am sweet and kind. I have manners. I apologize to people, and make sure people are okay. Babies like me, and so do domesticated pets. I make real homecooked meals. I even own, and can keep living, a whole window full of potted plants.

But I am a monster inside. A slavering, ravening, spitting, hissing, growling, tooth-gnashing monster.

I am selfish. I don't care about others. No one else matters but me, nothing else matters but my stories and my poems. My paintings and drawings. The pen in my hand and the paint splattered on my face. I don't give a shit about the rules of this world that says I am supposed to be and do what it says. I could run away and live for years in a cave in the woods, eating what I have grown or killed myself, as long as I had my art. Sometimes that's what I want. To get out and away from all these boxed in rules and pretty, pretty surfaces. I would like to dance in the moonlight. Cast spells to the sea. Let the dirt cake under my nails.

Screw it all. Screw everything but the monster in me.

But I have to admit, I am frightened of the monster.

There's no place for her in this world. In this world she's called crazy. People lock her up. Pump her full of drugs so that she can be balanced, so that she can be normal.

What's a monster-girl to do?

Where is the place for her ravening?

I am not suffering from Writer's Block

This is no joke, this is my life.

Ah ha. I walk around complaining about headaches and how tired I am. I don't have enough time or money. I am distracted, I watch tv or stare off into space. Lazy, poor nutrition, too much to drink last night or last weekend. Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah.

Good lord, girl. Do you want to tick tock your life away like this?

I guess I am feeling as if my life passing me by is going to explode like a mad gorilla. I am going to explode like a mad gorilla because I am mad at myself for finding excuse after excuse as to why I can not write.

This is the problem with being an artist. It's like being in a relationship. It's great and wonderful and fulfilling as long as things are going great. When the art is flowing, you don't see how it could ever stop. You exist in this land of milk and honey. Perfection. Wonderment.

But when there's a jam up somewhere in your head-- and things start to slow down, and you have to work and struggle to get words on the page-- uh oh. This is no fun. This is hard work. This can be painful. This is not what the fairy tale books said it was supposed to be. Run away! Run away!

This is no block. I refuse to call it a block. It's just a little dam I have to work my way through. Rotten beavers damming up my works. Oh, wait. I'm the one that put it there. Why would I do that? I want to write.

Right?

I want to have my novel go well. I want to finish it. I want to send out my poetry. I want to have my career take off....

Right?

Someone, I don't remember who, once said that you will put in front of you whatever struggles you need to reach your goal.

What an interesting perspective-- that your struggles, your blocks, your difficulties, are actually stepping stones towards your goals. Hmmm.

And that you are the one placing these blocks in your way.

Almost as if, somewhere inside of you, you know what you are doing.

Monday, April 19, 2004

Dress Rehearsal

Spring has come in earnest. Maybe that's why my mind is turning to being productive, to creating, to taking my life seriously.

Well, no, that's not fair. I am taking my life seriously, it's going pretty well, and is promising to go even better after a few actions have been taken. But I have to say, that I'm getting antsy about it all. I feel as if I have been going so slowly, not really acting as if my life, daily grind and all, is actually a part of my REAL life.

My REAL life is somewhere down the line, when I do the things I need to do. When I start writing my novel again. When I send my poetry out to be published. When I get myself a portfolio and slides and figure out what the hell to do with all my art. When I get a better job. When I start a creativity workshop.

My REAL life is out there... in the future. Not this, not right now, where I'm just kind of preparing for my REAL life.

Yes, yes. It's quite obvious that's a silly way to look at it. Because if REAL life is out there somewhere, then what the hell is going on right here and now. Dress rehearsal? I don't think so. Tell that to the trees that are just full to bursting with life and green juices. They may not have brains, but they know that after this Spring, after rebirth and growth and Summer lushness, comes Winter.

Years are made up, after all, of these short seconds that we are frittering away.

And death, down the way, maybe forty or fifty years, maybe tomorrow, is a call to life. Use the time we have-- ENJOY the time we have, 'cause it's all the time we'll ever have.

Maybe we need to pay attention to the things that are really pulling us. On a deep level, not distractions. The things that ring with our soul, the things that have been building for years.

This writing thing, this art thing, this is not a passing fancy. This is something that needs to be done, even if I am afraid of it, afraid of not being good enough, afraid of wasting all my time and never getting anywhere. Being creative is an integral part of me-- sometimes it feels so important that it is just easier and safer to put my energies else where.

I wonder if somewhere in my human psyche, I think that by avoiding my art and my writing I can somehow avoid stepping into the flow of life and death.

Maybe my procrastination is because I don't feel ready for REAL life, but instead want to stay in dress rehearsal. (There is no dress rehearsal, girl. This is it.)

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Flying Woman

Feeling up in the air.

Always feeling up in the air.

That's because life could, at any moment, change into something different.

Maybe it won't change into a spotted purple people eater, but it changes, is changing, constantly. Maybe I just feel it more now because I have consciously taken myself out of the predictable life I was living as a teacher, and into the life of the artist, the on-edge, the adventurer ready to take a dive. (Although I do love my couch. My adventures will probably be along the lines of mental, spiritual, artistic, romantic, etc. Not climbing mount Kilimanjaro.)

In my art, I have a woman who keeps showing up-- a flying woman-- or is she falling? It's so hard to tell. She's been showing up for, oh, ten, twelve years. Since college. She shows up in many places, in many guises. Sometimes it's about my confusion. Sometimes it's because I feel like I'm soaring.

I feel like that woman, now. I have so many opportunities, so many possibilities in front of me, and yet... somehow, I'm still floating around, not really grabbing hold. Not landing on the ground and making things real.

Maybe my floating/falling woman isn't that active. Maybe she's all about maybes. Or maybe she just is right now.

I think I need to start working on a workshop to teach. No, not start working on one. I've been doing these suckers for five years. The work is done, the curriculum is practically set. What I should do is just put it together. Just start it. Chose a time, find a place. Get the members to commit. And do it.

Maybe if I were in a community of artists and creatives, I would find it easier to be out there in the world with my art and my writing. Maybe if we were all in one of my workshops, using our creativity to deal with what it means to be human, what it means to be an artist, and all the joys and pains that entails, maybe everyone would be able to fly better.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Whoopsie!

I thought I lost my last blog entry. One of those computer snafus. So instead of getting pissed, I simply rewrote it from the top of my head. It was different, but okay.

Then when I published that one, and took a quick gander, it turned out that I didn't lose the first one at all.

So now I have two of the same, but different entries.

I thought I'd keep them. It's all about the process, anyway.

Self Portrait

The Spring rains fall hard. Thunder and lightning that seems to come from nowhere, although all winter has been building for this. Clouds have been forming in the warm upwellings of the Pacific, until they could flow across the globe to land here, on us, on the waiting trees and ground.

It has been a long winter. Cold and hard, and we have been hiding from the ice, to tired to hope for the green leaves that must ultimately come.

I have not been writing. I have not been creative at all, but I am ready to. I've been holding out, just like the green leaves, apparently.

My novel is waiting. I am yearning to paint, although I am not. I've been giving my time to other things, because life does move on. Things happen, seemingly out of nowhere, although they have been building just as much as these rain clouds.

I am in love.

As hard as that is to say, to admit, to toss out into the void for whomever to read, it is good. Most of my time has been given to him, to love, to our relationship. And that is good.

And even for my art, my poor neglected poetry, it is good.

The thing about art, that I'm realizing, is that it is all wrapped up in what it means to be human. You can not separate the human that is you from the creating you are doing. Anything in your life that is affecting you, is affecting your art, because art is about being human. It is going into the depths of what it means to be human. And so, if you have stuff that needs to be dealt with, you'd better deal with it, or it will come up.

For instance. I have not written.

And I can't really blame it on my new relationship. No, it's all me. Although it may have something to do with my relationship-- or atleast, what relationships mean to me.

You see, when I was a kid, my mother gave up any ambitions she might have had for herself to be a wife and mother. She gave up her art so that my father could be an artist. She was his helpmate, taking care of his home so he could be a genius. She was his assistant when he was making films. She put food on the table or struggled with how to pay for it, so he could focus on art.

Now, that won't fly with me. I am the artist. There will be no giving this up-- and yet I find my instinct is to do just that. To go right back to the familiar way of being that I grew up with. And then my instinct is to run away from the instinct, run away from relationship. Run away from creating. Hide my art and writing away, so no on can see it. Hide my heart from a man who would touch it. Hide my feelings from my family who hurt me so long ago.

Run away. Hide. Give up. These are the dark secrets of being human. Of being me.

And when I write, they come up. It's what my novel is about. And when I don't write, they come what. It's what gets in my way.

We are not just the artists who are throwing paint on a canvas. It does not come from the ether, it comes from inside. It comes from the life we have created, and the stories we tell to ourselves about who we are and what life means.

Every painting is a self portrait of the artist. Every story is the story of the soul.

I am not a poet
I am a poem.

Writing My Soul

It's raining today, hard. It's thundering. It should make me depressed, but I like it. This is spring rain. This is the kind that means winter is over. Next week, the leaves will be out on all the trees. The sun will shine, the temperature will soar.

Oh, my heart will soar. We really need this, Spring. We really need the warmth. It can be so hard and cold here in this city. We hide from the ice entirely too much.

I have not been writing. I have not been painting. I have not been being creative at all. My energies have gone else
where.

It's taking its toll on me, this not being creative, but I have to recognize what is going on in my life to make this happen-- or not happen as the case may be.

You see, life has moved on. Unexpected developments occur. Like thunder and lightning, seemingly out of nowhere, although it took all winter to get here. I am in love.

It was hard to say that, hard to admit, hard to toss it out there into the void for whomever to read. But it was also good. It's a wonderful thing, but it changes life, changes my routine.

So I have not been creative, I have instead been spending all the time I could with him. I needed to, and wanted to, and our relationship deserves that focus.

But as the days go on, that little/big part of me is trying to sneak its way back into my life. It can't be denied because it is who I am-- my art. I must give in.

But, god, it isn't easy.

What I realize is that being an artist is hard, because whatever shit you have to deal with in your life-- parental resentments, money rackets, anger at yourself or your lover, insecurity, feeling unlovable-- whatever it is, that shit is going to rise up and demand to be heard. Because art digs into the depths, and surrounds the whole. It is about being human, so all the things that make you human are going to need to be dealt with so that you can create.

That's why it's so hard. That's why people turn to drink and drugs and other things designed to numb them sufficiently to allow it all to come up without tearing their insides out.

So when I struggle with not writing my novel right now, I am also struggling with my issues. Here I am, in a new relationship, and putting that first-- just like my mom always did with my dad. She never went into her own art, her own stories. She didn't become a filmmaker on her own, though she loved it. Instead, she was a wife and a mother and a helpmate. She made it possible for my father to be an artist, she gave up herself.

So I am struggling with the instinct to do the same, and the instinct to run away from that instinct. And with what having a relationship means to me. And with what it means to hide away, hide my writing from anyone who would read it. Hide my heart from a man who would touch it. Hide my feelings from my family who hurt me a long time ago.

What it means to be human. What it means to be me.

So when I write, these things come up. This is the story I am writing. And when I don't write, these things come up, because it is me, human, who is hiding, who is running, who is witholding and afraid.

Everything I am informs what I create. Everythinig I am informs what I do. How I act.

All painters are creating self portraits. All writers, are writing their souls.

I am not a poet,
but a poem.

Friday, April 02, 2004

Life Sucks... and then it doesn't

This is a cynical world. I, however, have decided to screw cynicism. It's SOOOO nineties. (I'm joking. I don't give a shit what was in style in the nineties and no longer is.) I have decided to screw cynicism because all it is, is dissappointed romanticism. All those cynics, a long time ago, once believed in the world, and in wonderful things happening. Then, they were confronted with the world and all of its sucky things. Maybe they were 9, maybe they were 19, maybe they were 69, but they started not believing in wonderful things. Cynics are defeated romantics, that's why they are so tough, so hard to reason with. It's all about heart break.

I have been there, though. I have been the one who no longer believed in the world being right. I hated it. It was kind of hard to want to keep struggling. So I decided to start believing that things could be good. That people had good reasons for what they did, or atleast, they did not have evil reasons. I decided to believe that at heart, people were good.

Not, however, that they were perfect. I don't believe that people are always noble, but that they have their own reasons, and those reasons, within the circumstances that they were living, were, in essence, good. They may be the wrong decisions, but you know what? Just because they are not doing things the way I would do them doesn't actually mean they are bad. Maybe they just have to travel their own road.

Everyone is on their own journey. They have their own lessons to learn, and maybe they have to deal with their own personal dissapointments and struggles so that they can grow and learn on their own.

I am perfectly aware of how corny my ideas could sound. I'm a fricking Pollyana. But you know what? This world is all fucked up, and that's what makes it interesting. The world is all fucked up, and that is what's normal. The world is all fucked up because this world is figuring out how to be this world. So am I, so is everyone else.

And life sucks for a while, and then it's cool, and then it sucks again, but if you have faith that it will come around to cool again, it's not quite as hard to get through.

Thursday, April 01, 2004

Heart

When you give your heart to a thing, a person, a place, a project, a life-- whatever-- what you're doing is allowing yourself to be open. It's about saying "yes." When you give your heart, it's about a willingness to see what happens next, what comes next, what might be around the next corner. It might be deliriously wonderful, or it might be disaster and crushed dreams.

When you give your heart, truly, it's not about, "well, I love this today, but tomorrow I may love something different." It's more like making that thing a part of who you are, inextricable from everything that built you up in the first place. You can't shake something that you have given your heart to. There is no return clause when you give your heart.

People freak out about commitment, about how hard it is to actually be vulnerable, to want something with the possiblity of not getting it, to put your heart on the line. It's much better to keep things on the surface. Much better to stay cynical and not believe in anything. It keeps our poor, delicate hearts safe.

Maybe you have techniques that are less obvious. Maybe you think things to death, plan and consider, and all that. I do that. It's a stalling measure-- you WANT to give your heart, but you're afraid to, so you pretend you already have given your heart and fill all the hours and choices up with over-thinking. Intellectualism. Why else be a writer? So I can write/think everything to death, and I can stall actual commitment of heart as much as possible.

But this is dangerous, this half-commitment. You give your heart but keep a death grip on it, so you can yank it back when it gets too dangerous. It feels safer, but it's not. Well, you keep your heart armored, but you never actually allow what you love to reach you. So you never get it. You are setting yourself up for failure until you actually let go and allow yourself to love, no matter what may come.

What's funny about this entry is that I am actually writing about being a writer, about my novel, about committing and exploring and discovering, about letting go and not being so afraid to win/lose what I have wanted since I was fifteen.

And yet, it sure sounds like romance, don't it?

I suppose that life is like that. What is really true echoes,-- and I don't mean facts, but truth. When you've got a struggle that you have to deal with, it shows up in every important area in your life, not just the ones that you would expect. And when a law works on a big level, it often works on micro levels-- like say, "a body at rest stays at rest." Yeah, that's physics, but can anyone say it doesn't go for when your body is slug-like sitting on the couch, remote in hand?-- that body will continue to rest unless acted on by an outside force.

So when you come upon a truth in your life, if you watch it, you can actually find the pattern repeating itself again and again, large, small, internally, externally. Chances are, it's not just a personal truth, but a human truth, too, so you can see other people struggling and following the same patterns, also.

One of the things about the universe that I love is that you can actually see these patterns repeating themselves. It so clear, and startling in it's clarity. For instance, a lightning bolt follows the same pattern as a river bed, which follows the same pattern as a tree branch, which follows the same pattern as a crack in the sidewalk, which follows the same pattern as the veins and ateries sending blood to your beating heart. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Maybe actually this realization of the patterns in life can help in the bravery needed to give your heart fully. Because maybe the outcomes, the possibilities, the blind future that we are all rushing towards, is not so very unknown at all. Perhaps it, too, follows patterns, and maybe if we trust in the universe, then we can recognize that we have been through these patterns, theses struggles before-- and, actually, we made it through before. We will survive. We will prosper. We will, even, grow.

Ahh...

Yes.

Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Change, change, change.

I've been running around like a crazy head. Wrapped up in how life just keeps moving forward. Things happen. New opportunities arise, and the old desires and goals, sometimes it's hard to keep up with them.

I've always been like this. I am always doing twenty thousand things at once. A million projects. A billion ideas. Or perhaps it's better to say, I always WANT to do twenty thousand things, because when it comes down to it, I just can't, or don't, get them all done. At least not to my liking.

Projects fade. Trips and plans and commitments start to get less important when the new trips and plans and commitments come on board.

I suppose this is natural. I suppose this is part of life. Life certainly isn't static, although sometimes we want to control things so they always stay the same. Our plans have a funny way of changing on us, because we change and the world changes, buildings go down, new ones go up, some people move away, other people step in to your life. What you want changes. Does who you are change?

I feel pretty much the same person I was ten years ago, but many things about me have changed. And that's a good thing. I look forward to these changes. I suppose I expect them to happen-- I just don't want the changes to be for the worse.

Maybe it's better to go with the changes, consciously recognize the new choices you have, and how things around you have transformed, and then accept them. I think that gives you more control in how your life turns out than if you resist the changes, trying to hold onto the old ways.

It gives you control because you don't have to fight against life. Trying to hold the ocean back is a fruitless endeavor. Allowing things to change allows you to choose the new paths you take, instead of getting stuck, stranded in your dry land of "HAS TO BE" while surrounded by all these unasked for changes.

So, here I am, things switching up around me. Now, what am I gonna do? Try to maintain my old habits and plans? Or am I going to re-evaluate the goals here. Try find the things that are most important to me-- which may have changed-- and then try to find the ways to make these things happen.

I think this is what I want to do, I think this is the way to move forward and keep growing and make sure those changes are positive ones, or atleast constructive ones.

I think it's gonna take a bit of thinking on it.

And then it's gonna take a lot of action.