Just Plain Foolish

2011-11-04T03:18:00.000-07:00

The chill steeps through me,
Pervading blood and bones,
Promising winter.

A storehouse for winter

2011-08-28T22:15:00.000-07:00

This year, I have been storing up the share my husband and I have in the farm, as well as our farm market purchases. I have made several types of pickle, including mixed vegetable pickles, a pickle spread, and a couple types of cucumber pickle. I've canned creamed corn and corn relish, peaches, spiced peach jam, sour cherries, whole tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, a few types of tomato sauce, and that doesn't even touch the stuff I've frozen over the summer - or for that matter, the things I am still canning. I have yet to make, but want to, some basil apple jelly, and perhaps some ginger lemon pumpkin chunk preserve. Plus, of course, using the share to base our meals around - this week, we'll be having plenty of summer squash, tomatoes, eggplant, and green beans. I find that it helps keep me aware of the food I eat, its value - both nutritional and economic, and the ways in which that food helps connect me to others.

During the onset of Irene, I was with friends who live significantly to the west of my apartment, playing a rather complicated card game as we waited to find out how bad the storm would be. It wasn't bad at all where I live - in fact, my apartment had only one blip in power that I know about, though when I went to the farm after the rain had cleared to harvest the tomatoes which had been thrown by the wind, I saw how lucky I had been. My county is still suffering significant outages. But as we waited to find that out, I contributed to the festivities by pulling out a few of my hard-earned jars - pickled vegetables and pickle spread, along with some soft and lovely spiced peach jam - almost more spiced peaches than jam-like. It was a hit. The pickles quickly disappeared along with the lovely dal our host had prepared, and the spread and peaches accompanied slices of local cheese as these, too were consumed. While I could easily pick up pickled vegetables from the grocery, these were more personal, and had everyone talking about other times we had shared food or cooked together.

And it's a good thing I have cleared out a couple jars, since I'm beginning to run low again. Even the quart jars are slowly filling up and moving to my pantry shelves from the storage area outside my kitchen. Some of these jars will go elsewhere - I'm bringing a quart of tomatoes to my parents this weekend, along with a few pints and half pints of things for my sister. Others have already been promised to friends. And yet others will be reused here. Even so, I'm glad that Mom has found some jars in the garage that I can have - and friends have begun to track down jars for me. I've filled up several dozen jars in all shapes and sizes. And harvest season is hardly over yet. We still have a couple months to go...

Yowza

2011-08-23T19:37:00.000-07:00

For the second time since starting this journal, I've ridden out an earthquake. This one felt slightly less severe than the last one, and good thing, too. One major difference was that this time, I knew myself to be responsible for others, not merely as a further instance of our responsibility to our neighbor, but because school had not yet let out, and students were in the building getting ready for pick-up.

I am so proud of the students for working together, making sure their classmates were all right, and getting ready to leave in a safe and orderly way. We're taking a day to make sure our facilities are in good order, then it's back to work tomorrow!

CSA haul

2011-05-28T19:50:00.000-07:00

I got a call earlier this week to let me know that a share had opened up at the CSA I've tried to join for a couple years, if I was interested. Well. I was and am. And now, I've got the chance to pay about $550 for a season's worth of fresh veggies. Let the season begin. Garlic scapes, swiss chard, various types of kale and lettuce, herbs, radishes, turnips, asparagus, strawberries, mulberries, sorrel, and the season has barely started. I'm looking forwaard to zucchini, carrots, tomatoes, celery, eggplant, sweet potatoes, and all the rest of the bounty ahead.

What is CSA and why does it cost over $500? Well, the letters stand for Community Supported Agriculture, meaning that at the beginning of the season, each of us pays our share of the farming expenses for the year, and in return, gets a share of whatever's ripe each week, whether it's a little bit of the last spring spinach, or a lot of summer squash. Whatever we don't eat now, we need to figure out a way to store somehow, whether as frozen zucchini shreds, canned strawberry prserves, dried herbs, frozen pesto, or more simply in the bellies of friends.

So we will be eating whatever is in season, eating locally produced, sustainably farmed produce, and supporting our neighbors, from the farmers to the local foodbanks and shelters. What's not to like? Espevially when this bounty works out to less than $30 per week. Our share this week was easily worth that and we're barely into the growing season.

2011-05-20T22:32:00.000-07:00

Larger Editorial: Defending Teacher Unions, the Most Misunderstood Organization in America

Had to share this link - it's a great dissection of the ways teacher's unions have been unfairly targeted for blame in the current fight over school quality. I agree that this is important to consider - but think that the underlying problem goes deeper, into the racism that our country continues to struggle with, particularly as our schools continue to resegregate. (When I first came to my present school, I sent holiday presents to a class that was not yet familiar with me and the students asked who had given them. The teacher replied that I was the woman who came to help a certain student. One child asked, "Oh, that light-skinned lady?" The teacher replied that when someone is as light as I am, they are usually called white. The students were upset on my behalf that I was called white.)

Not to mention the inherant classism in high stakes testing. It's been shown over and over again that what these tests reveal with nearly pinpoint accuracy is the educational level of the parents. So teachers in high needs schools are nearly automatically labelled as underperforming. I mean, teachers who serve in schools like mine are at a disadvantage in all these measures of performance simply because we have kids coming in at the Kindergarten level who don't already know the alphabet song, or how to count to ten, or any of those other things most children in more prosperous neighborhoods get before they're 3. We have children who are homeless, who have 1 parent, who are dealing with the vindictive war on the poor that this nation has been waging since Reagan.

And we work to overcome those disadvantages, and the further disadvantages of a lack of exposure. When our primary classes go on the annual field trip to the zoo, I gather a group of children around me on the bus and talk about the Potomac, the construction sites we pass, the Capitol dome, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and anything else I can possibly see that would interest them in learning - we even wave hello as we pass the downtown NASA headquarters.

But what do I know? I'm just another teacher who spends more than she probably should on furnishing my school (seriously, that chair at my desk? I bought it. The bookshelf filled with high-interest books? I bought the books and the bookshelf. How about the plastic tub thing that organizes the reading materials for my classes? Yep, bought that too. Even the set of round green rugs I use for defining an area for my more active children to get up and move around while they learn.)

Not to mention office supplies - pens, paper, dry erase markers, dry erase lap boards, pencils, erasers, pencil grips, pencil trays, grading stickers, sticky notepads both for my use and the students' use, binders, binder clips, magnets...

And then there are the things I need as a special educator, the specialized pencil grips for correcting a tendency to "fist grip" the pencil, the small stuffed animals and plastic dinosaurs for use as "study buddies", to keep distractable students on task, the relaxation balls to help students build grip strength and to have a tactile reinforcement while they work. And no, the county doesn't pay for that, either.

Oh, yeah, and stuff like "star student" erasers, scratch n' sniff stickers, pencils with holographic foil, my collection of McDonald's happy meal toys, the spoils of trips to the dollar store toy aisle, and the plastic poppers, silly putty, and dinosaur eggs I buy online. Or the snacks I buy so my kids won't be taking the standardized tests hungry.

Or the hours and days of unpaid overtime I spend tutoring kids, lesson planning, putting up bulletin boards, exposing the kids to new stuff like gardening, origami, and crochet. And teachers are the problem with schools?

Once again, the fight for morale

2011-04-27T15:59:00.000-07:00

I've posted here before about the DOD blocking social media sites. I've commented about the difficulties faced by family at home. Even written poetry about the heartache. And still the nonsense goes on. A teacher at my school has a son serving in Afghanistan, and was just on the phone last night with her daughter-in-law. apparantly, the DOD has decided to cut off email contact effective May 1st. And cut off the ability to mail to her son's unit effective June 1st. For soldiers who won't return until August.

Excuse me? This is a basic issue of morale, both for the soldiers abroad and for the family stateside. Being able to stay in contact is essential for getting everybody through a deployment and for coming back afterwards.

Welcome, Summer

2010-06-19T23:14:00.000-07:00

It's been a long, hard year. I've learned a lot and done a lot. I'm still teaching, though I'm now on summer break. I am more than ever convinced that we need to work to make our schools better places to learn, to share, and to develop into good citizens. Unfortunately, I believe our current legal climate makes this goal an amazingly difficult one. I'm fairly frazzled, and can only hope that I will have regained my energy by the fall.

Just a quick note to say "Hi!"

2010-01-24T08:45:00.000-08:00

We're exactly midway through the school year. (Well, a tiny bit more for teachers, since we have an extra week at the beginning of school and only an extra day at the end. And because I'm first year, I had another week before the returning teachers came back.)

It's exhausting. There are days I come home, ready to crawl into bed, but make myself eat dinner first. The county transferred me from my neighborhood school to one at the other end of the county, adding 2 hours of commuting to my day. And I'm the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) Fair organizer, as well as the Science Coordinator for my school. Plus, of course, the ongoing training, and the extra paperwork for Special Education teachers. Did I mention exhausting?

Having looked around, it's frustrating to see how few teachers "get" modern technology in the elementary schools. Most of the "tech" time our students get is in ways that don't actually carry over into the "real world". (Although I'm now seriously un-fond of the phrase "real world". Just how unreal is school, anyway, when it's where both the teachers and the students spend so much time?) And I've begun to advocate for putting more of the tech in the hands of the students. Instead of wildly expensive whiteboards that run "interactive" programs, how about doing what most businesses do - boring old school whiteboards with computers in the hands of the workers? Put up a serious firewall, give teachers admin authority over the units in their classrooms, and use network folders, etc. as the productivity tools that they are.

And maybe that might be a step toward more humane schools.

More when I'm not running out the door.

Not easy, but rewarding

2009-09-10T17:43:00.000-07:00

It's been tough since I last wrote an entry. After a very stressful final week, I along with most of my classmates graduated, and then found ourselves navigating the introductory meetings for new teachers. And then I was given a temporary placement a mere 5 minutes from my home.

This week, I was given my final assignment, which is much further away, but where I hope my skills and hard work will prove to benefit my students. My temporary assignment was wonderful, and I sincerely hope that one day I will be able to return to my neighborhood to teach, but in the mean time, there is a lot of work to do at the school I am assigned to. Today, I observed two classes, took part in collaborative planning, sent emails, checked student files, attended a staff meeting to review our school's plan for improvement, began to write my introductory letter to parents, and finally painted a sign for grandparent's day. Oh, and wrote a few notes back to the school I just transferred from.

Tomorrow, I'll be in both the classrooms I observed today, and working more on reviewing my students' files. And hopefully, getting a chance to prepare for the two standardized tests I'll be taking Saturday.

Wish me luck!

Last day of school...

2009-07-30T04:16:00.000-07:00

It's the last day of summer school for my students. (I still have another week to go.) I'm so incredibly proud of each and every one of them. They've worked hard all summer and today the other teachers and I have planned a bit of a reward for them - a lesson plan that involves playing educational games and reading interesting books (instead of their readers), to be capped off with a party - cupcakes and punch diluted with seltzer.

And I've found out about a possible placement that would be about 15-20 minutes away from my apartment. Which would be nice, but I'm doing my best not to count my chickens before they've hatched.

Scent - One single Impression

2009-07-26T20:53:00.000-07:00

I stand next to the whiteboard,
marker in my hand,
a faint whiff of solvent,
like old, purple-blue dittoes
still damp.

Memories rise up from the chalkboard,
as I sponge away today's lesson
carried in the dry scent
of wet chalk
and slate.

Standing here, beginning my day
preparing the classroom
I am both student and teacher,
child and adult,
remembering.

For more scent poetry, check out One single Impression

Practice teaching is teaching me a lot

2009-07-26T08:14:00.000-07:00

And one of the most important things practice teaching is teaching me is that I'm in the right part of education for me. Because I will be a Special Educator, I am required to do a rotation in both Special Ed. and in gen. ed. (general education). While I am enjoying my students in my gen ed rotation, and while it's in some ways easier, I've realized how much I miss the ways that special ed. is able to really individualize instruction. In special ed. we are required to keep documents for each student, detailing their goals, disabilities, and lots of other stuff. There are notes about what helps and about what doesn't work. We work hard to learn exactly how each student learns best and how to keep that child learning to the best of his or her ability.

And I really wish we had the ability to do that for every single student in the schools. I wish that general educators had the same tools at their disposal that we have to track the ways our students learn. And I wish this even more than I wish we had enough copier paper in the teacher's lounge. Or that we had enough pencils to go around.

Inner Voice (One Single Impression)

2009-07-21T04:06:00.000-07:00

I hear a call, a whisper,
a rhythm tapping in my soul,
a song begging me to sing,
a life begging to be lived.

I sound the notes softly,
hesitant, unsure, feeling
I cannot do them justice,
cannot sing them true.

But soft and sweet, they call,
aching to burst free,
longing to form a chorus,
begging to fill the sky.

More poetry on an inner voice can be found at One Single Impression

sigh

2009-07-21T03:47:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had a pretty heavy homework load - reading an article that was heavy on jargon, writing up a differentiation plan, and a lesson plan, all after an over 12 hour day. And it didn't help that I switched placements (along with everyone else studying Special Education) yesterday morning. I'd gotten to know and like all my students at my Special Education site, and suddenly, I'm switching gears to learn an entirely new classroom and their procedures and methods. And tomorrow, I take over their first lesson of the day. And try to figure out how to differentiate for a class where I don't know their individual goals, learning styles, and struggles. And who haven't had time to get comfortable with me as a teacher.

Whee.

I've begun to get a plan together for Thursday's math and science class, but I think I'm going to have to get one of my colleagues to share her "alphabet soup" song and routine and use that for tomorrow's lesson. And beg for help from my advisor this afternoon.

Harry Potter and the new teacher

2009-07-18T21:39:00.001-07:00

I went to see Harry Potter earlier today, and only partly because I could end up with an upper elementary class for my school year assignment. And it's amazing the difference it makes seeing even a fantasy movie set in a school. I found myself laughing at things I wouldn't have before, noticing the management styles of the different teachers in the movie, and considering how I would have addressed the various rules infractions in the movie. My fellow student teacher who came to watch with me commented that she wants to grow up to be Professor McGonnagol (which I'm sure I've misspelled, but have no intention of looking up.)

And afterwards, I wandered around an office supply store, looking at colored markers, pop-up stickies, dry erase boards, and all the other wonderful toys that are frequently in short supply at our schools. It was shocking to go from an office where we literally had paper stacked from floor to ceiling to the school where we had to scrounge copier paper as best we could, and even snap cubes (a math manipulative that looks a little bit like legos) were a precious resource with not nearly enough to go around. My cooperating teacher told me I'd discover that copier paper is the currency of the teachers' lounge. And I made my flash card reading game at home on my own computer.

And even our dedicated family interpreters are going away. In schools where more than half of the students speak English as their second language, and many teachers (unfortunately including myself) do not speak Spanish or French (two of the more common languages in my neighborhood), never mind Arabic, Farsi, Portuguese, Amharic, or Hindi. I am hoping next summer to take some basic Spanish courses at one of the local embassies, but this is getting ridiculous. I can only hope and pray that the on-call interpretation service will be able to handle all the work for the district. If not, I suspect my old Latin studies will be useful as I try to compose short letters using my Cassell's dictionaries.

My review went well

2009-07-18T06:02:00.000-07:00

I really appreciated the way my advisor conducted my review yesterday. Before we began, she had the notes from my observation, my lesson plan, and even the worksheets I had designed at the ready. She then gave me a couple moments to reflect on the lesson and how it had gone from my perspective. I'd already gotten some preliminary feedback from her on the pacing of my very first "official" lesson. (Yep, due to schedule constraints, I was observed on my first day of official teaching.) I say "official" because we were supposed to spend the first week as observers only. However, the classroom I was assigned to had not been fully staffed, and every hand was needed, so I had had a chance to leap in early and begin getting some experience teaching the students.

She showed me her notes and told me how the lesson had gone from her viewpoint as an experienced teacher. We discussed how to take cues from the students themselves on what pace they need in order to learn the lesson well, and how to best demonstrate movement in a primary grade environment. (My first movement activity involved stretching for long vowels and shrinking down for short vowels. My advisor suggested that it often helps with activities like that to really exaggerate the movement.) And I noted that the children themselves had exaggerated the movement more than I had, and in later segments of the same lesson, I copied them and similarly exaggerated my own movements. She also suggested that, especially for the first class in a series of similar classes, I should have gone through the worksheet with them to make sure that the students were able to do the work required of them.

I was then able to ask her for advice on taking my own ideas and making sure they were firmly grounded in the educational goals for the children. While I believe that children want to learn and will do their best to do so until we adults teach them that school is awful, I also know that as a teacher, I am responsible to the school, the community, and ultimately, the students themselves to ensure that what they learn is on track with the standards for what they are supposed to be learning.

What had been worrying me is less that I might get a bad grade (although, of course, I want a good grade) than that I might be failing my students by expecting too much or worse, too little from them, or that I might be failing to learn critical skills for managing the classroom. I was reassured to learn that my advisor thinks I'm on track and learning the skills my students will need me to have.

Thoughts on blogging and teaching

2009-07-17T04:07:00.000-07:00

I'm hoping that I will be able to clear out a few moments every now and again while I prepare to continue with my blog. I've begun to realize how much I used blogging as a time for mindful reflection, and that part of feeling off balance was simply that I felt I had no time to reflect as I worked to become a teacher.

But to be the best teacher I can be for my students, I've realized I have to be centered and focused, and part of that for me is time to reflect and write. Somewhere in between lesson planning, making the materials I need for my classroom (I've already adapted Frere Jacques to teach vowel sounds and made a dance to go with it, adapted a template I found for flash cards to a "game" where my students are eagerly calling out the words they can read (or for students who are just learning to blend sounds, they blend them), and played a highly popular game of "Math Simon Says" (Simon says pat your head 7+8 times).

And yet, yesterday I felt frazzled. I know I'm not getting all the sleep I need during the week, though I'm now careful to eat breakfast and show up early to school where I have a couple minutes to play my banjo and mentally prepare for the day. As I was trying to help two students, both of whom needed extensive direction and attention, my observers came in just as one of my students began to threaten tears. Somehow, we all made it through, but though the rest of the day went well (and the student later decided that the rhyming word worksheet was not the end of the world after all), the whole thing left me desperately wanting a few minutes to just sit and listen to rain (which was predicted for last night, but never showed). Or to go to my favorite spot in a nearby park (but I also needed to eat some dinner when I got home).

So I took a few minutes to blog, and it was good. I have a new camera that I'm trying to use to create things for my students, and I bought the biggest memory card I could find for it so that I'll have enough room to also take pictures of things like the blackberries in the woodlot next to my apartment. And I need to remind myself of the same thing I keep telling my students. Okay, take a deep breath. Now, let it go. Get up for a few seconds and shake the wigglies out if you have to, and then we get back to work.

Whew.

2009-07-16T18:23:00.000-07:00

I'm coming up for a few seconds for air.

It's tough work, getting certified to be a teacher in a compressed program. I'm halfway through my summer program, and halfway through my practice teaching for the summer. And I have to switch classrooms, and already, I miss the class I'm leaving behind. They've made real strides in the last couple weeks, solidifying their understanding of vowel sounds and how numbers work. They've learned a little bit of how to get along with each other, and that even if the teacher isn't able to come this instant, she will be over.

But I know when I join my new class, they will also settle into my heart and be my students. I don't know yet where I will be teaching this fall. All I know is that I will be sent to a school in the local area that needs me. It's a little bit scary, but I do what I'm constantly reminding the kids to do - take a deep breath, shake out the wigglies, and move on. Whoever my students are, wherever they are, I'm working hard to learn how to help them learn. Tomorrow is my midterm evaluation and while I'm a little bit nervous about it, I'm also hoping to learn how I can improve my teaching to best benefit our students.

This weekend, they're predicting rain and while I'd like the sky to be clear when I meet some of my fellow student teachers to catch a movie and some cheap food, I'd also like the chance to sit and watch the rain go for a little while. There's something truly lovely about rain. I want to listen to the shush, shush, pitter patter, watch the water running down my apartment windows, feel the coolness that comes with the storm finally breaks.

And then I want to head out Monday morning and meet a new class and new school.

2009-04-21T15:54:00.000-07:00

Skitter scatter
Tumbling together wildly,
petals dance.

One Single Impression: Farewell

2009-03-18T15:27:00.000-07:00

Snakelike, I slither out of dry skin,
tossing it aside
like old boots,
too small for me.

Ready to face the world anew
scales gone from my eyes
new skin rippling
in the bright sun.

A moment's pause to look:
a soft farewell to old skin
a moment of stillness
before new adventure.

Spinning with joy

2009-03-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

Spring is a time for renewal. I've watched the buds forming on the cherry trees, even as the black slush by the roadside melts. And I've been patiently working through the winter, trying to balance my application to become a teacher with the responisbilities of my current job (especially since my current workplace lost several employees over the last year - somebody has to do those jobs.)

When I discovered that out of a thousand applicants, only 75 would be placed, I tried to tell myself that there would be other opportunities, even if this one didn't pan out. And I tried not to worry about it. Having met my fellow applicants at the large interview event, I felt confident that whoever got those places would be well qualified and a true asset to the county I live in.

How wonderful, then, to come home to an official offer and an invitation to a meet and greet at the end of the month!

Whee!

2008-12-29T18:24:00.000-08:00

I've been asked to interview for the teaching program!

Excitement

2008-12-15T17:20:00.000-08:00

Well, something I've been working on for a bit is finally coming together. I've been working for the last several years as an editor, but recently... well, I've been hungry for more, for something that would feed the soul as well as paying the rent and the groceries. Tonight, I submitted my application to become a student teacher in my local school system.

Now, all that's left for me is to wait for the next few weeks, until I find out whether I have been selected for an interview, and to look into testing times so that I can take the standardized test. I've already reviewed sample questions and am hopeful that I will be accepted into the program. I'm well aware that I've signed up for an insane amount of work - I'll be taking a compressed teaching course over the summer, and then I'll be working for two years for the county, after which, I'll be eligible to begin advanced studies.

I'm so excited about the possibilities. So is my family - my parents have already pledged their support through this, as has my husband, who sat with me through the nerve wracking process of writing my responses to the application questions. (Who would have suspected that I'd be so nervous about writing? Yet there I was, fussing over every word.) And my neighbors have also been told about my intentions and are wishing me luck.

I know more than one educator reads this blog, so if any of y'all have advice, feel free to give it.

Winter silence

2008-12-05T04:07:00.000-08:00

I long for winter silence
the soundless hush
of snow covered evergreens
and wordless amazement
at star-bright midnight.

I want to hold your hand
through woolen mittens
and point to Cassiopea,
lounging in the heavens,
while Orion faces the Bull.

I want to share hot cocoa
straight from the thermos,
the kind with cinnamon,
as we head home, arm in arm,
and the heavens wheel above.

2008-11-20T03:54:00.000-08:00

Pale blue skies
a symphony of birds
with rose-gold wings

Crows congregate
branches bob and sway
with black leaves

Strum
Chords
timing
dancing strings
the foot taps along

Swirling sherbet skies
bid the sun bright farewell
street lamps blink on

2008-11-19T03:44:00.000-08:00

Finest white lace
sparkes on windshields
Breath makes thin clouds

Diamond drops cling
to golden leaves
shaken by the wind

Curtains of kudzu
black twisting reaching branches
frame highway walls.

2008-11-18T03:46:00.000-08:00

Thumb
Strum
Banjo
Melody
I play my own song.

The world wakes up
under rumpled red silk sheets
and shivers.

Soft grey sky
Scatters fine drops below.
I tilt my face up.

2008-11-11T18:33:00.000-08:00

Crimson morning light
gilds tree trunks with flame
to match falling leaves

Head uplifted,
he walks past bare branches,
a crowned king.
Antlers glow in moonlight,
as autumn winds whistle.

2008-11-08T07:59:00.000-08:00

Fading light
reflected from brilliant trees
bids wistful farewell

Feathered clouds leave
softly dimmed brilliance
below

Stash.
Hide.
Acorns,
put away
for the cold winter.

The streets fill with celebration
Sing a joyful song
Day has come
Be free.
Be.
Do.

Shivering gold
scarlet dancing on the wind
beneath silver skies.

Trees of heaven
swaying burgundy leaves
by the roadside

Frothy, rustling, crunching carpet
over the sidewalk
Shuffle through,
laughing.
Skip.
Kick.

Cool waters
sprinkling city streets,
glazing sidewalks.

Deep breath.
Feel the world fall away
and dance
to the turning of the seasons,
defying the failing light.

Call.
Shout!
Lift UP!
Raise your Voice!
Lighten burdened hearts.
Sing defiance to the shadows.
Find that Awesome Strength,
that still voice,
within.
Stand
tall.

For mercy's sake, vote.

2008-11-03T16:02:00.000-08:00

I am thankful that at least two people are still reading this blog. If there are any more Americans out there reading this, I am personally begging all legal voters to hie themselves to the polls and vote. I will be getting up nice and early, and my boss has already been prepared lest I am delayed by long lines. It's happened before.

Far too often, we are encouraged to think of the Government as some pettifogging idiots that the rest of y'all got rid of by foisting them on those of us within the Beltway. Or else as a set of corrupt thieves, and after all, what can anyone do?

You can vote.

Unlike many places in the world where there is only one "safe" way to vote (i.e. one way that won't result in violence against you and your family), you have the security to voice your beliefs knowing that it won't result in a midnight "visit".

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I'll head for the local polling place, umbrella firmly in hand, and stand with my neighbors as we wait for our chance to speak. I urge you to do the same.

Autumn inspiration

2008-10-29T00:20:00.000-07:00

I've no idea how inspiration managed to find me to strike. Lately, I hardly know where to find me.

Grey skies
A flash of red falling leaf
lights the afternoon

Icy rain
gilds flaming leaves,
black-silver branches

Soft pit-pat
Full round raindrops
on fallen leaves

Hoarse cries
Dancing black cloud of crows,
leaving winter behind

Green yellow leaves
whispering summer's goodbye
as autumn rains fall

A cup of tea
and a ripe, crisp apple.
Watching through glass doors
the maple tree shivering
through October winds

Venus, bright angel,
blessing the evening.

Black branches frame
blue grey mottled silk skies
Crows swoop past

My seemingly once a month post

2008-09-21T16:15:00.000-07:00

*sigh* Still busy out here on this end - and dealing with some medical issues, the chief of which at the moment are a truly nasty cold and a couple stitches from an accident while making dinner last week. I'm healing up, but am getting tired of being on the sick list.

Luckily, neither had hit when I went out to get my planetarium training - and discovered that I was being trained during a premiere of a sky show that will go from our county planetarium all over America - If anyone out there happens to go to a sky show featuring the New Horizons mission to Pluto, well, I was there before you. And we're getting ready for next month's show, which has nifty interactive stuff going on, some of which was my idea. Happy dance!

And someone let me know if I'm crazy or anything, but when con men cheat decent working folks, why in the world are we telling the working folks it's their own fault and they should have known better while bailing out the con men? I'm beginning to think that all of Congress and this current Administration should be prescribed several listenings to "The Streets of Laredo" until they actually listen to the lyrics. (For anyone unfamiliar with it, the song is about a cowboy who gets into bad company, drinking and gambling, until it becomes literally the death of him.) Has anyone but me noticed it's only in the new country songs that the gambler is the good guy? In the traditional songs, he's the one who leads you astray and you die wishing you could make it up to your gray-haired mother who never wanted you to get in that mess. (Okay, there is Stagolee, and Jesse James, but you just know they're going to get it in the end.)

So now, we have people in fancy suits who gamble not over cards or dice, but over the lives of people who actually work for a living, and when the economy goes to hell because of it, who gets bailed out? The gamblers. FDR, oh how we need you now.

2008-08-25T15:16:00.000-07:00

I'm still writing, though I don't have so much free time as I used to.

Leaves scuttle softly
along sunbaked sidewalks

Afternoon
barbeque on the deck.
Small toad hops away.

A bird of clouds,
gliding over the city,
red sun in her wings

Watching Jupiter
playing hide and go seek
between the clouds.

2008-07-29T03:50:00.000-07:00

Rose and peach clouds, feathering the deep blue sky...

Summer heat hangs
over the grass lot.
Children play soccer.

2008-06-27T04:08:00.000-07:00

Rainshowers on silk
Two hearts, hands, families joined
Gentle winds skip through

Sunshine, rain
bless the happy couple
under changing skies

Sing a joyful song
Invoke a thousand blessings
over the city
The music of breaking glass
Hands clasped high, they smile

Why are there so many songs about rainbows?

2008-06-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't been arrested for singing "George W. is a Weenie" while playing the banjo (though I have learned the Mark Twain version of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and take a great deal of pride in having learned to play both the melody and the chords).

Mostly, I've been very busy doing things offline - visiting family, jobhunting, helping friends move, getting ready for a trip to New York City (where I've never been before) and possibly one to Harper's Ferry (which I would really like to visit again.) I've been getting qualified to volunteer at my county's science center (I may even get to operate the planetarium! Whee!) because I really feel that science education is important, even important enough to pay the money for the county to get my fingerprints and run a criminal background check on me. I've also made significant progress, as noted above, in learning to play my banjo - enough that I'm even able to play a little for people I don't know.

Yesterday, I saw a rainbow (a double, even), and realized that I wanted to write about it - it was gorgeous, the most clearly defined rainbow I've ever seen, hanging in the air and glowing in the sunlight slipping through the clouds. And it called me away from the world of writing samples, fingerprint terminology, and so forth... Simply fabulous

Oh, the humanity!

2008-05-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

Today, I learned via Don, over at Country Contemplative that Mr. Bush has made a heart-rending sacrifice in solidarity with the families of the fallen: his golf game. My heart positively oozes sympathy and remorse - how could I possibly have expected more from someone whose lies put my loved one in harm's way? Oh, right. That part.

Just a little reminder, for those keeping track: those of us with loved ones in the military wind up making far greater sacrifices than merely expensive hobbies. And that's not even counting those families that have to live for the rest of their lives with the loss of a brother, sister, son, daughter, father, mother, spouse, cousin, or friend. We give up birthdays spent together, the ability to keep those we love nearby, long talks about nothing in particular. We try to hang on to as much of it as we can, singing duets at 5 seconds and half a world apart. We give up peace of mind, sitting awake at night, wondering how our loved ones are doing. We give up the ability to call up our friends and relatives, and instead clutch our cell phones, praying for the right kind of call.

During my dad's first deployment, I came down with a life-threatening illness, and the only way my dad could talk to me was snatched phone calls. When my dad came back from that deployment, he threw himself to the floor at the sound of the furnace starting up in the fall. And you claim to be in solidarity with people who have lost even more? Oh, right, I forgot: you gave up your golf game. Yeah, I can see where that's right up there with real sacrifice. Not.

2008-05-13T04:56:00.000-07:00

Distant train whistle
singing your travelling song
in the morning rain.

Rain slick leaves cling
to wet windshields, car hoods
Stormy spring morning.

Humming together,
busy tending, building, gathering
bright pollen, nectar
comb full of new brood,
spring beehive awakening.

2008-05-12T05:21:00.000-07:00

Boom!
Crash!
Rumble...
Sharp Flashes!
softly shushing rain...
midnight thundershower concert

2008-05-08T19:06:00.000-07:00

pick
strum
rhythm
notes sparkle
banjo strings dancing
fingers flying over the neck
lost in the bright music, I smile

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

wool
string
spindle
the dance starts
whirling, twirling wheel
spins loose fibers into tight yarn.

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

Silence shakes me
trembling through walls
built of words

2008-05-08T04:35:00.000-07:00

Early morning
birdsong awakens me:
wild symphony.

2008-04-29T18:09:00.000-07:00

Purple surprise
hidden in the grass
little violet

Pale green newborn leaves
stretch up, reaching for sunlight
Heavy rains pour down

Soft cream morning light
tiptoes under the curtains
across blue carpet

Banjo, guitar
Sunday morning strumming
Outside, clouds drift

Rain pours down
drenching soils, flooding roads
Drought remains

The long walk to freedom

2008-04-25T04:37:00.000-07:00

It is Passover right now, the season when Jews remember the Exodus from Egypt and both refrain from leavened goods as a rembrance of the hardship of that always comes with such a journey, and eat specifically matzo, described in the seder as the "poor bread that our ancestors ate in Eretz Mitzraim". Last night, my husband and I began talking about "poor bread" and what it is today. We both agreed that while Matzo and it's brother the water cracker have risen significantly in social status, the "poor bread" today is fast food, eaten while rushing from one place to another, or while hunched over a desk, as work continues even through lunchtime.

We talked about how grain is being taken to feed our energy addiction, raising the costs for those least able to afford it. We talked about the need for energy conservation, and how all too often the focus on "green technology" instead of on actual sustainability can lead to counterintuitive results.

We talked about the continuing need for liberation, about what could be done to make the world a better place with the billions currently being spent on killing each other. We talked about the importance of maintaining human dignity in the face of inhumanity.

Every year, Jews celebrate the Seder, where the story of the Exodus is told, but last night we discussed the need to extend that further, to tell the story of liberation from bondage not merely one week a year, but throughout time, and not merely by a few people, but widening that story to as many mouths as will tell it. I would encourage everyone who reads this to help widen that discussion

Morning train

2008-04-25T04:27:00.000-07:00

Yellow lamplight
fanning circles
rain beats down

Farewells, sad smile
a gesture for the heart
The train pulls away.

Fog wreaths high
dancing with the rain
above city streets

Wet rock reflects light
from the dark cars rolling by
early morning train

Softly shaped shadows
in delicate blue light
go past train windows

Early morning
grey-pink skies shine down
on rain-fat rivers

Bright white tugboat lights
shine through pre-dawn raindrops.
The train sings hello.

Electric lines
glow silver in lamplight
Still the rain falls

Rain and lamplight
conspire to show your currents,
Allegheny

Aluminum piles
sit, waiting in the half light
to be renewed

Broken bricks,
a tumbled heap
beside train tracks

Kudzu,
tumbling wildly
over slate cliffs

Hidden waterfall,
the train sees your secret.
There are more of you.

More from the train

2008-04-23T22:10:00.000-07:00

Lone lights in darkness
bonfires on the riverbank
Midnight train rolls on.

Perfect sky pearl,
wrapped in yellow silk veils
dancing alone.

Coal train
carrying black mountain bones
to the city

Branches glow golden
against the black river,
late night train yard

Conductor's light shines
"Hour and a half to Pittsburgh!"
coach car wakes up.

Sleeping train,
full moon, sparking river
midnight company.

Smoky river haze
studded with diamond stars

Lonesome train whistle,
do you ever want to stop
among the warm homes?

Whisper your stories
to the gentle hum
of wheels on rails.

Musical progress

2008-04-23T21:43:00.000-07:00

I haven't done a banjo update for a while because it's been slow but steady work, improving the songs I already know, learning a few more, acquiring musical theory and musical accomplishments. I felt incredibly proud when I was able to learn "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" in a matter of 2 weeks, though "Battle Hymn of the Republic, Updated" taught me humility once more. When I played it through this week, melody *and* chords, I literally did a small victory dance with the banjo. Truly, a happy moment.

And even the mistakes I'm making are showing progress. Slowly, I'm losing old mistakes, and making new ones - putting in chord changes a little early because my ears say that a chord change would go well there, trying to play to a more complicated timing than is written down on the music in front of me. (As my instructor said in exasperation a few weeks ago "Reading the music is *not* cheating!") And slowly, what I'm playing sounds more like music, more like familiar songs.

And I'm growing more comfortable playing - even with other people present. And so far, nobody's chased me out of the room telling me to stop that infernal racket. Maybe one of my next songs will have to be "Mama Don't 'Low" And I've even spent a Sunday morning casually strumming with my dad on his guitar and me on my banjo.

On the train

2008-04-19T11:50:00.000-07:00

Night train carries me
past dark branches, high waters.
Full moon rides along.

Wail
Sing
Lonesome
train whistle
crying moonlight blues

Bump
Jolt
Rumble
Rocking me
Rolling ever on

The moon drenched river
glides among sleeping mountains

Churning waters
dancing a merry jig
down to the sea

Whitewater
tumbles pale blue
Full moon smiles

On the train again

2008-04-18T05:46:00.000-07:00

Once again, for Earth Day, I'll be in transit, this time on the train. My family is gathering and I'll be there. Of course, the most Earth-friendly thing to do would be to stay put, but since I do need to travel, not only is the train a less polluting option, it's also relaxing - and the scenery is simply spectacular.

It's been a tough month, and I've gotten fed up with the radio once again, so I'm not listening. I don't need to know the latest poll results from Indiana any more than I need to be

This morning, as I walked from the train station to my office, I spotted buttercups! And another admirer of them and I talked about them as we walked to the next crosswalk, where we parted ways.

2008-04-04T08:32:00.001-07:00

Grey skies, pink blossoms,
rain insinuates itself
among the branches.

2008-04-02T20:43:00.000-07:00

Lots of people are in DC this week, simply to see the cherry trees. And they are gorgeous. Pink and white blossoms are everywhere, even gently floating on the spring winds. But my husband has said, and I agree that the absolute best trees to be found are the "unofficial ones".

Don't get me wrong. The ones on the National Mall right now are eye-poppingly beautiful, and if you want to see the monuments like they look on the postcards (except with more people) now is the time to go. And the masses of cherry blossoms over the Potomac are simply sublime.

Having said that, I still maintain that the most beautiful trees are, for the most part, escaping the tourists' cameras, because they're not on the cherry blossom tours. They're the volunteers that grow in unexpected places, neglected and allowed to grow in odd curves, with uneven branches and asymetrical individuality. They're on property edges and woodlots, in the corners of apartment complexes, shy and beautiful.

Spotting them brings a moment of peace and calm into the busy noise of the city. Each is a gift, a surprise waiting to unfold to the alert watcher. In the full grandeur of the massed cherry trees, it can be easy to miss the single tree, the perfect blossom, but each of these stands out, drawing the eye and the heart.

2008-03-27T21:23:00.000-07:00

Drip
Drop
Shushing
water sounds
puddle at my feet
Rain drizzles over daffodils
Lonely birds cry out their love songs

**********

Milk shakes,
intense conversation,
late night diner.

2008-03-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

Cherry trees dance,
pink and whte gowns swaying
in time with spring winds

2008-03-21T11:02:00.000-07:00

5 years. Nearly 4,000 American lives, and many times that many Iraqi lives. And none of that counts in the cost in wounded bodies and wounded souls. It doesn't count in the hidden costs that will be revealed later. It doesn't count the ripple effects of those wounded bodies and souls.

A friend of my dad's is coming home. His boots are already on American soil, and his wife is looking forward. His children, when they learn that he's coming back, will be ecstatic. And yet...

Will there be help for him and his family as he tries to make the transition between war zone and peaceful Midwestern town? Will there be adequate support for his children as they get their father back, only to have to share him with his military duties? Will there be support for his wife as she tries to go from single parent to part of a larger family again?

2008-03-18T05:01:00.000-07:00

So much has been happening - my husband and I just had our 9th anniversary, which we quietly celebrated. We also travelled out to see my sister and to participate in my niece's funeral. And my sister and I are planning to meet up at my favorite warm springs to take the waters together.

And spring has been worming its not-so-subtle way into my feet again. Even with the lingering chill at night, I'm ready to be outside - hey, some of the trees have little leaf buds, and a few are in bloom - it must be camping season already. I even have a couple of homemade camping stoves, ready to be tested, and some day-hike ideas (I'm not quite up to regular backpacking, but dayhikes centered around a base camp sound mighty appealing.)

For a coworker

2008-03-18T04:55:00.000-07:00

Pilgrimmage beckons,
far lands whisper of soul-rest
to wandering feet

Roll, River Jordan,
carrying our hopes of peace
into the desert.

Ah, the joys of the National Capitol region

2008-03-13T04:04:00.000-07:00

There's a really good reason why I practically never drive into D.C. Contrary to what you might have heard on the news, the worst gridlock in the Nation's Capitol isn't actually in the Capitol, but on the streets just outside. I, at least, was granted a brief glimpse of that which was clogging up my route last night - a motorcade. Whee. Shiny black Escalades, marked police cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Several streets cut off, so that those of us who would have possibly chosen another route had no escape. *sigh*

And I found myself wondering who it was who was in the middle of the chaos. Or not. Frankly, if I were going to get said person where they had to go, I'd stick them in a Prius or a Civic (both incredibly common around here, because the streets are narrow and congested, and you spend a lot of time waiting for a break in traffic.) with tinted windows.

But what do I know? If I'd been smart, I'd have found a way to take the train.

A respite

2008-03-04T19:20:00.000-08:00

Took a break tonight and just played the banjo with my instructor. "Will the Circle be Unbroken" spoke to me, and seemed to practically flow into my fingers as I picked it up. The last couple of weeks have been hard, and I admit, the banjo has sat, untouched, waiting to be picked up. I thought of all the practice time that has gone by and wondered if my fingers would fumble over the strings, but instead, it was as though they had been waiting for me to give them the banjo again.

This morning, two flocks of geese flew overhead, as though to remind me that spring is again here, even if my bones are still complaining of the cold, and my feet growing restless in the house.

Geese fly past,
dragging spring in their wake,
singing to the sun.

Bleh

2008-03-03T15:07:00.000-08:00

It's been a hard week and a half. Shortly after getting my sister's news, my husband got sick - not deathly sick, but coughing up green and no energy sick, and I've basically been running around trying to nurse him, get ready for the funeral this weekend, and be a good shoulder to cry on.

I'm pooped.

I want it to be spring already. I want to take our tent and the coffee can stove my husband and I made out to a nearby camp and enjoy some campfire stew and mocha. I want to finish the alcohol stove we've been contemplating, and test it out. (I've made a different kind of alcohol stove, but this one should be more efficient.) I want to eat pancakes and eggs in camp, then watch the hummingbirds check out our gear.

The only words

2008-02-25T07:17:00.000-08:00

The only words I can find right now are thank you - to everyone who has left a message here, or on email, to friends who have been generous with their time and hugs, to my sister's church which has been so very supportive through this, to the anonymous crafter who knit a beautiful pink preemie outfit and donated it to the hospital, so little P. could be buried in it.

My sister is beginning to get her health back, though it's a rough road.

A request for prayers

2008-02-22T17:21:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I got a sad call - my sister lost her daughter. If y'all could keep her and her family in your prayers, I'd be grateful.

So much going on, so little time to write

2008-02-14T04:49:00.000-08:00

Aside from the news that I will soon be an aunt, last night my husband and I got another happy announcement - Save the Date! We're finally getting married! Along the bottom of the card were pictures of the happy couple, ranging from the 1980's to today, and since I'd already heard through the grapevine where and when the ceremony would be, I was free to think, "What took so long?" Not at them, but at the rest of society. What is so horrible in the thought that these two women have loved each other since I was a child? Their hearts have been married for a long time, but still people resist the possibility that those of us who know and love them just might want to recognize that love and commitment as a community. You know, like they did when they attended our wedding nearly 9 years ago.

On another topic completely, Tuesday was the most energized primary election I've ever seen. My little "I voted, Yo vote" sticker normally gets no notice for the primary. Not this year. I decided to treat myself to a little bit of lunch and walked into my favorite Persian takeout, where a spirited political conversation was going on behind the counter. When I walked out with my eggplant, rice, cheese, and wood fired bread, it was still going strong. Banjo lessons even began with a note that my instructor's wife is an election judge this year, so she might call.

And what a lesson it was! The pace of my banjo progress feels to me like it's picked up, even as I'm learning more challenging material. Whew! "Fair and Tender Ladies" is now fairly under my belt, and since I'd sort of "gotten it" mid-week, I flipped through my copy of Pete Seeger's guide to the 5-string banjo and found "Lady Gay", which has proven challenging. Even my instructor was having a couple timing issues with this song. But I also feel like I'm beginning to get a little bit of complexity in my music. Wa-hoo! And as sort of a treat, I'm listening to the new banjo treat from over at Quiet Paths. (Okay, it was posted last month. I told you, I've been busy out of my mind...)

My sister's pregnancy seems to be going well, and I've managed to finish a lace blanket for my niece to be. And while I'm really wishing for some peace and quiet, my parents and I have begun planning for our quiet weekend this year - possibly in Harper's Ferry, where there is kayaking *and* historical wandering about to be had...

2008-02-13T07:01:00.000-08:00

Dusk,
dawn,
seasons,
all the world
You have Created.
How can we not sing for joy?

Slip
slide
glass trees
silver streets
under a pearl sky
as the freezing rain dances through.

One Deep Breath: Love

2008-02-13T06:23:00.000-08:00

A new nursery
all in readiness
waiting for a Gift.
Grandparents-to-be visit
In a bustle of love.

A lace blanket
for an expected niece
every stitch a prayer.

There's been a lot going on out here, including news that I will soon be an aunt...

2008-02-08T08:43:00.000-08:00

Paper flowers
bloom in farewell.
Memory remains.

2008-02-05T10:03:00.000-08:00

Cars race by
the dark ballfield
behind the hedge

Thin light gilds
empty bleachers.
Stargazers look up.

Watching stars dance,
we huddle together
over optics.

Red Mars
caught between
the bull's horns.

Three bright jewels
high above winter's chill
Orion's belt.

Cold hands, cold feet
call the watchers from vigil
A coffeehouse beckons

Winter fog
settles over
silver streets.

Winter wonder - One deep breath

2008-01-28T07:31:00.000-08:00

Crows dancing
across the sky, interwoven,
shouting for joy.

Winter bare trees
come alive with black leaves
between the sets.

While we don't get much in the way of snow, we do get birds in the winter.

2008-01-23T11:02:00.000-08:00

Jazz man,
play your song
to the beating rain

*******

stealth
words
to the mark.
gone before you know
how they will echo in your heart

2008-01-23T08:38:00.000-08:00

city winter
grey snow beside the road,
on the sidewalk

Morning frost,
lace curtains
on windshields.

2 poems: the last piaster

2008-01-21T15:50:00.000-08:00

The Last Piaster is a poetry prompt site that I found today. Their first two prompts looked challenging, so I tried.

Piaster 1

Oh, to rush to you,
seeking union, wholeness, grace,
to become one,
lost in timeless now,
but find myself still me,
transformed by the trip.

Skipping, dancing,
clasped together, we whirl,
laughing joyfully
over rapids,
through your snags, Shenandoah,
downward to the sea.

Piaster 2

Blind, his fingers look
across painted concrete
for the switch.

Dull yellow light,
smells of dust, mold, creeping time
below the house.

A treasure unearthed!
My cold hands clutch the jar:
homemade peach preserves.

Turning, we climb
up steep stairs, the warm kitchen
our reward.

One Deep Breath: vision

2008-01-21T08:32:00.000-08:00

Hopes to visit in peace a farm,
somewhere in Iraq,
on the porch
talking
of
crops.

A year ago, I wrote about climbing the steps to the Lincoln Memorial with my dad and hearing him tell how Dr. King's famous speech affected him. This year, I'm writing about hearing a vision that is not so famous, but is an extremely powerful one. As I have frequently written about here, my father is a National Guardsman who has served twice in Iraq. When I first sat down to write this week's poem, I wasn't sure what I would write. I thought of my dad and of Dr. King.

I think our rememberance of Dr. King has a tendency to oversimplify his message, which was one of justice for *all* people - he spoke not only of the injustice of judging people by the colors of their skin, but also of the injustice of war, the injustice of taking from the Many to further enrich the few, of the ways that violence harms everyone - the person committing violence, the victim, even the person "on the sidelines" is harmed - each has a piece of their humanity taken by the act of violence. And Dr. King said that the way to counter this is not to engage in more violence, but to reclaim our humanity, to act as human beings with compassion and strength, the strength that rises above violence.

And I thought of my dad's return from war each time. I thought of his interpreter in Iraq, who had been a doctor until the war, when he and his family were threatened if he continued to treat people. My dad told me that he hoped to bring his interpreter and the interpreter's family here to the United States. He hopes to take S. to see my grandfather's farm and to meet the family, and he hopes one day to travel again to Iraq, so that he can see S.'s family's farm, sit out on the porch, and talk about something really important - how crops are grown on that land.

Childhood Christmas memories

2008-01-18T09:32:00.000-08:00

Christmas morning,

two special presents arrive:

foam toy swords and snow.

Three children race outside,

wearing only pajamas

First snow

2008-01-18T07:49:00.000-08:00

The promise of snow
appears in low grey clouds,
sharp tang in the air

Sunlit snowfall
Cold whispers drift on the wind
Silence in the woodlot

White flakes fall softly
gilding black branches upraised
to embrace the sky

The storm has passed
Heavy snow begins to melt,
leaving fine lace

Cutting edge?

2008-01-18T05:40:00.000-08:00

It's pretty sad when a woman who has refused to even consider getting a portable mp3 player finds herself more in touch with the cutting edge of automotive tech than the radio guy whose job it is to talk about the auto show in Michigan.

If that sounds somewhat smug, well... I'm feeling a little bit smug. When asked to name some of the cars to pay attention to, he (of course) listed several luxury brands, and then commented on one of them (a BMW, I think) that even Americans will have to begin thinking about smaller cars in connection to luxury.

And I thought, "Well, duh! Jeez, I could have told you that more than a year ago." In fact, it was just under a year ago that my husband and I replaced our car that had finally sputtered its last with a used Civic hybrid. And I'd already driven a friend's Civic hybrid for a day, and discovered that it was, as I've been known to mention on a few occasions, a miniature luxury car. The ergonomics are incredible, the interior finishes very well done, the lines snazzy, the drive... sweet.

I mean, come on, people! Hollywood, perhaps the second most image conscious town in the USA (the first being, of course, Washington DC), has long given the Prius the stamp of approval. George Clooney drives a Tango. And, well, the Cooper Mini has been out there for a little while now, and while its fuel economy isn't as good as a regular Civic, it's got serious glitz factor going. The "new trend" toward smaller cars with luxury detailing has been going on for a little while now, folks.

And well, I can tell you, as someone who drives a hybrid, people often ask to "go for a ride" when they find out. Recently, someone at work even commented, "Yeah, I heard you drove a fancy car..." And I drive the 2003 model - not the most up-to-date one. My only "complaint" is that it takes less than a tank of gas to drive from Washington, D.C. to Ohio, so I forget to stop and wind up with stiff muscles at the end of the drive.

For two women who taught me.

2008-01-16T07:05:00.000-08:00

Sitting on your couch,
Holding sea shells far from home,
I watch you crochet,
your hands and hook dripping lace
that foams on your lap.

Your children beg you,
"Come to Florida, with us"
But hills are your home,
So you teach me old ways,
hoping memory will live.

********

In the county home,
Dark, dusty, lonely, sad
I come to visit,
for you have magic hands
that can crochet new worlds

Bright colored cheap yarn
brings sunshine indoors to you,
Making new flowers
I sit on your bed, learning,
your hands guiding mine.

Some mornings...

2008-01-16T06:41:00.000-08:00

This morning, my cup of Earl Grey, hot, sweet, lemony... I needed that.

Another childhood picture

2008-01-15T07:02:00.000-08:00

Twelve years old,
apron on, making dinner,
younger children wait.

Dinner finished,
Bathtime finished, bedtime story
Then a book to read.

Up until midnight,
cup of tea, dinner ready,
waiting for Mom.

Childhood stories

2008-01-14T08:03:00.000-08:00

Two sisters sit
Underneath shared quilts
Telling stories
Outside, the winds howl and moan
Blowing high drifted snow.

2008-01-11T11:54:00.000-08:00

Little racoon
peeks out from the storm drain
watching traffic

Those plastic bags

2008-01-11T09:08:00.000-08:00

Over at her blog, Salihah by Sea, Salihah wrote about jurisdictions trying to cut down on plastic bag waste. Now, I have a largish collection of grungy-looking canvas bags (even when they've been washed, they still look grungy. *sigh*) and even one cute little heart shaped bag - it's actually a grocery sized bag that folds down into it's own zippered pouch - useful, handy, and very, very cute. There is also a version that is a rectangle. The cute bag lives in my craft bag that goes everywhere with me, along with my crochet hook collection and a few random balls of yarn. That way, any impulse grocery runs can be easily cloth bagged, and I try to remember a few of the grungy bags for larger runs.

But I also have a work in progress that I consider both incredibly appropriate and well, hard on the hands. I'm crocheting a bag out of plastic shopping bags. Essentially, you cut the bags into strips, then use the strips as yarn. It's slow going, not just because I'm making the "yarn" as well as crocheting it, but because I can't do it for very long at any one time - there's no stretch or give at all. Even cotton, which is notoriously hard on the hands, is easier. I also found along the way, that 1 grocery bag makes up nicely into 1 "scrubby" - cut the bag in a spiral after removing the bottom seam (while most instructions tell you to cut off the handles, too, I just sort of incorporate them in the spiral). Then crochet a circle using all the plastic. If you just hold it in your hand, it will feel soft, like a bunched up plastic bag (which it essentially is), but if you rub it against your hand, you can feel how it works as a scrubbie.

2008-01-11T07:38:00.000-08:00

Silver grey fog
veils winter bare branches
Crows fly over.

Back to the banjo

2008-01-08T19:24:00.000-08:00

While I've been playing over the last few weeks, I haven't been taking lessons since the middle of December - there's just been too much going on for both my instructor and myself. But I sat down, and played, and played pretty well, I think, though I did make a couple "typos" from not really having warmed up.

And now, I'm looking at some "grown up" songs: "Pretty Polly", "Fair and Tender Ladies", and "Man of Constant Sorrow" (And looking at getting a songbook! Woot!)

A year ago, I had never even held a banjo. Now, I can tune one, replace the strings, play the g scale and a handful of songs. I can even sort of "noodle tunefully" which I would never have believed last April as I tried to figure out exactly how to get both of my hands to cooperate in making the notes. The nails on my left hand are all short now, sacrificed to the need to catch the strings going straight down for clear fretting. I've figured out how to hold a banjo and a small child *at the same time*. I even sort of fudged up an accompaniment for a friend's kid when she wanted to sing a sad song. Basically, it was just a minor and e minor trading off with each other, but she seemed to like it.

Yeah, I'm hooked.

Moonlight - One Deep Breath

2008-01-08T07:05:00.000-08:00

Moonlight shines down,
glazing the lake with diamonds.
Night birds call.

The moon so big
children reach up to take it,
trying to play catch.

Breath glows white
Watchers stamp their feet
Crescent moon sails on.

Whistle blows sadly
Under a winter moon,
the midnight express.

A ghost in the sky,
Opal eyed visitor,
The moon peeks at day.

Beloved,
whisper to me again
by moonlight.

Crescent moon,
a perfect moment is here
to see your valleys.

How did this happen?
Just a cup of tea, outside,
went to take a sip.
How did this get here?
The moon hid in my cup!

Oy

2008-01-03T06:53:00.000-08:00

A series on an American woman who chose to wear a Saudi style veil, apparantly so she could write a 4-part series complaining about the experience, and particularly complaining that women who veil should be discriminated against more.

*sigh* If she'd bothered to, you know, try asking someone who covers, Muslim or not, we could have told her a little about it, and far less of it would come as a surprise. (Such as: most people in a grocery are not going to even look at what you're wearing. They're there to get their cornflakes, baking soda, and tomato soup and couldn't possibly care less.) Heck, half of her complaints had to do with not knowing anybody (or asking anybody) who actually wears a covering on a regular basis. And most of the rest seemed to be that nobody actually hassled her, though some people *did* whisper about her at her gym.

Yeesh.

Happy 2008, everybody!

2008-01-02T06:10:00.000-08:00

Here's hoping and praying for a year of strides toward peace.

A moment of quiet in the storm

2007-12-28T14:05:00.000-08:00

Christine talks about the unsettling news from Pakistan, and about the need for a bit of calm in all the violence that the world seems intent on producing sometimes. I was deeply saddened by the news of the assassination as well, and decided to "light a candle" over at gratefulness.org. (And check out the rest of the site, including a virtual labyrinth and some thoughts on peace...)

Oh, and thanks to Don, over at Country Contemplative, for introducing me to the site in the first place.

Some fuel tips

2007-12-28T07:52:00.000-08:00

Over at Country Contemplative, Don talks about the burden of rising gas prices on the poor. And later in a comment, he says, "People making $100,000 a year are inconvenienced by $4 and $5 per gallon gasoline. People making half that much and less are crucified with those prices. The poor don’t get to drive hybrids. "

Even if you add my husband's income to mine, we still do not make even close to $100K/year, but we do drive a hybrid, the Honda Civic Hybrid - the savings on gas is actually worth it, despite some media assertions to the contrary. We bought used, and the difference between ours and an equivalent non-hybrid was about $1500. Because of the efficiency guage, I am able to improve my own fuel use and teach myself to drive with more awareness of my use of resources. Our old car had been paid off, but the savings on gas from the old car pays over half our car payment. (and that's with older, lower gas prices.)

But I'd also remind folks that it's not necessary to drive a hybrid to conserve fuel - smaller cars use less fuel than larger cars (and are often less expensive) And combining errands not only conserves fuel, but also time.

Wait to start the car until after you've put on your seat belt, settled yourself in, and released the parking brake.

Turn off the engine when you get where you're going. When you idle, you're getting 0 mpg.

Go a little slower and be more considerate of other drivers. When you leave a generous stopping distance, you're not constantly alternating between the accelerator and the brake and your milage goes up.

Don't step on the accelerator if the next light is red. Why speed up to a red light only to have to stop?

Cultivate a "feather foot" on the accelerator.

Carpool, take public transit, walk, bike when you can. The lowest tech bike beats the highest tech hybrid on carbon emissions every time. Plus, you get to meet people.

Morning's cup of tea

2007-12-27T07:13:00.000-08:00

I have a somewhat battered infuser - the kind that looks like a measuring cup. It's been camping with me and exactly fits my camping mug. This morning, I pull it out, and tip a scant teaspoon of Earl Grey in, then just smell the leaves, all brown and small at the bottom of the mesh cup. Mmmm. Citrus and tea...

And then, the magic of hot water from the coffeemaker, and slowly, those small brown leaves bloom, become soft and full, transforming and being transformed by the water. My scant teaspoon of dry leaves is now a plump tablespoon of glistening tea leaves, and there are more colors - various shades of reddish brown with hints of green, and even one leaf that is now a sort of celadon.

The light is returning, the new year coming, and I have a beautiful cup of tea. May the new year be filled with such pleasures for us all.

A gift

2007-12-26T12:33:00.000-08:00

Snow between the trees,
a veil of ice cascades
over limestone cliffs.
Still I journey forward
carrying the gift within.

Happy Holidays, everybody!

2007-12-21T09:25:00.000-08:00

I'm outta here for a little while - spending Yule and Christmas with family and not likely to be online much.

For those of you travelling, travel safe and have a wonderful time!

For those staying at home, have a lovely cozy time, and think of us fools on the road as you sip your tea.

And happy holidays, everybody!

Morning tea

2007-12-20T08:31:00.000-08:00

Some of y'all will remember that I really love my cups of tea, especially herbal and fruit teas. This morning, one of my coworkers approached me because she'd only recently discovered that I write haiku.

Somewhat out of character for me, I had gotten cocoa instead of tea this morning, and I found myself looking at *her* morning cup of tea, made from loose green tea and red dates...

Red dates float
in morning's cup of tea,
calm, soothing islands.

Okay, that's it. I've got to bring a loose tea canister to work... (probably for my hibiscus tea...)

And she said nice things about my poetry, too. Whee!

This morning...

2007-12-20T05:18:00.000-08:00

Morning decorates
With finest sparkling lace
The parking lot.

Cars speed, unseeing
past the hawk, silent, intent,
watching for breakfast.

Cold hands hold a cup,
Gentle warmth easing fingers,
ready for the day.

Cocoa, tea are warm,
but not so warm as a word
spoken to the heart.

sigh...

2007-12-18T04:58:00.000-08:00

Last night at the Japanese cultural center was wonderful. My husband and I went to hear a lecture on the Selene/Kaguya project to study the moon. We got to see some of the first high definition digital images from that project - 3-D images of the moon's surface, and a totally breathtaking Earth rise over the moon.

While we were there, I took the opportunity to visit the current exhibit of Japanese pottery, which is truly beautiful. The forms and the glaze work were all just gorgeous, and I was glad I'd gotten a couple minutes to enjoy them. I also got to meet a couple of people and had an interesting discussion as we all drifted out into the evening, where folks broke up and headed wherever they were going.

My husband and I, along with one of his coworkers, headed for a nearby Korean restaurant that also carried some Japanese specialties, and proceeded to continue the discussion over agedashi and sushi. (And yes, I admit that mine was vegetarian. Call me a wuss, but I really do love inari and umemaki.) And finished off with a lovely Korean ginger and cinnamon drink "to aid digestion" our waitress assured us, before we headed off toward the Metro station.

Less than a block from the station, the fly in our ointment appeared, in the form of some young idiots in a red sports car who turned into the lane we were crossing (still missing us by a fair margin) who decided to shout a Jew-hating threat at us before speeding off. As you might imagine, this was upsetting. All I can pray is that perhaps one of the people in the car will be so embarrassed this morning that it will cause him to consider how he ended up like this and begin to turn around. Sadly, I don't count on it, and can only be thankful that I was spared the violence visited on a friend of mine last year, who had first insults hurled at him from a car, before someone decided to get out of the car and escalate.

And the struggle goes on.

Still overwhelmed

2007-12-17T12:12:00.000-08:00

December tends to be hard on me. There's always so much going on that I find it hard to find time to relax, so things tend to drop - admittedly, this year including this blog. I've travelled to my husband's family for Hanukkah, and will be travelling to my family for Christmas. Plus both company holiday parties (both this last weekend) And this evening, a trip to the Japanese embassy for a lecture.

And of course, the homemade candies and other handmade gifts. I'm really looking forward to relaxing tonight, after the lecture, with some music. (Okay, I'm being selfish here. Help support some really good musicians, so that they have more leisure to get out their next CD, which my greedy little ears are hankering for... Christine even assures on her blog that it's not too late...)

I'm really looking forward to the quiet of January.

(Oh, and a quick note for those following my banjo adventures: I did it! I've been playing "Red River Valley" on time and without mistakes! Whee!)

Just Plain Furious

2007-12-14T06:40:00.000-08:00

As if it weren't bad enough that we are abusing our military through more and more frequent deployments, now we discover that funds raised for veterans are being frittered away. This really makes me angry. Hasn't this war stolen enough?

Over the weekend, someone asked me what my dad thinks of the war. I trotted out my standard response that I really can't be his spokesman, for fear of oversimplifying his thoughts - but I also pointed out that one of the things he's talked about since getting back is the level of profiteering off the misery of this war.

And I felt odd, out of place, cold. The table was full of holiday cheer - Holy Day cheer - candles, special foods, made this one season in the year, cookies and even my candies were there, festive tableware, a special centerpiece, everyone dressed colorfully. Everyone looking forward to the gifts that would come out after dessert. The room was full of joy and fellowship, but I was talking about death and misery and the pathetic mindset that looks at that and sees opportunities for profit.

I said afterwards to my husband that I wasn't sure whether they'd wanted the answer they got, but how could I say anything else? He pointed out to me that I was alone in that room in being related to a soldier, that it's important for others to hear the real story, because it's not being told in the places it should be told.

One of my favorite stories is the one about a worthless item that turns out to be a precious gift: the hospitality of Baucis and Philemon, the fool of Notre Dame (part of the inspiration for my blog's name), the clockmaker who brings only a sandwich to the offeratory, having sold the beautiful clock he had intended to give in order to support his neighbor. I agree with O. Henry. These are the gifts of the Magi, the gift of love. Often, it's a hard gift to give. We can't know how it will be received, or what the result will be. All we can do is give in hope and trust.

I'm back.

2007-12-13T07:21:00.000-08:00

Caught up on my rest some after the grand train adventure. We wound up going sleeper car both ways, and it was lovely. While the "roomette" accomodations are indeed tiny (there was essentially no room for more than my husband's messenger bag, my small handwork bag, our coats and our two selves), they were plenty comfortable, with room to stretch out a little, a fold-out table, and a tiny closet. Meals were included, and while the selection was limited (it might be difficult to maintain a strict diet for more than a day on board), the service was prompt and the food reasonably tasty.

And they provided a space to go for quiet. While we enjoyed meeting many people over meals, it was also nice to be able to go to our own space and shut the door. In the dining car, we met train enthusiasts, a Katrina relief worker and his wife travelling to relatives, a professional dancer on vacation, a woman travelling to a school reunion and other interesting people.

I think if I were travelling with children, the train would have to be my first choice - on our way out, there were two infants on the same car with us, and a family with children. Unlike air travel, there were no major pressure adjustments, even as we travelled through the Appalachian mountains, since we mostly rode along the valleys. There was room to move about for the older children, and even my husband and I found ourselves practically glued to the windows, stopping only to sleep and eat.

The scenery was fabulous: from rolling hills and tumbling rivers to the vast open expanses of the Plains. At night, we found ourselves watching the Christmas decorations flow by. One house was plainly waiting for the train, because as we passed, they blinked the lights and waved to us. On the way back, we were able to tell when we passed the Eastern Great Divide, simply by watching the waters beside us - and watching the Potomac turn from a tiny mountain stream to the churning whitewater near Harper's Ferry was incredible.

Frequently, we found ourselves saying, "That town looks interesting. Can you tell where we are?" We were grateful for local businesses, because they often incorporate the name of the area, or prominant local features. Also, they were often nicer to look at.

As we left Chicago, we passed a large shipping yard and were simply blown away by the volume of freight containers - One part, we weren't sure - was that a warehouse made of freight containers, or simply a stack? We found ourselves thinking about the incredible wealth of a nation that produces those vast yards of food and goods. How can it be possible that we have created a system where so many lack basic heathcare? How could that happen?

Frequently, especially in some of those small towns, or along the rocky gorges of the Appalachians, we found ourselves wishing we could somehow both ride the train to see what comes next, and also that we could get out and explore the treasures that we passed...

I guess what I'm saying is... Wow, what a ride!

A choice

2007-12-05T19:23:00.000-08:00

The Washington Post reports that American students did less well than the average on an international test of math and science. I find this totally unsurprising, in large part because we have not chosen to teach the theory behind the sciences, instead giving a gloss of trivia and memorized facts as our "science curriculum".

Science, contrary to the view most frequently presented in our media and public discourse, is far more than a collection of technological advances. It is, in fact, a form of philosophy, a way of understanding knowlege, hence the name which is derived from the Latin "scire", to know. All too often, the "science kits" available as toys for children might as well be recipe booklets. Rather than foster questioning, these seek to impose knowlege from above.

And as we move to an educational system dominated by tests with limited answers, we depress the questioning that forms the basis of true science. It is by looking around at the world and asking questions, often open-ended questions, like "why?", "how does that work?", and even "does it really?" that scientific discoveries have been made. Science is a means of putting questions to the test: will a heavy ball fall faster? There is only one way to know and that is to carefully measure and observe balls of various weights being dropped.

Sadly, many in this country fear that open questioning, and so science curricula have been gutted, stripped of a real understanding of what science is, and what it can and cannot do.

And so we discourage children from questioning, and from learning. I have sometimes thought that the primary purpose of schools was to teach children to sit still for hours at a time while being bored out of their skulls. Sadly, that is what it felt like to sit, listening to droned repetitions of facts I already understood, with no encouragement for further questioning.

In the face of these results, I think we are faced with a choice: accept that we have done this and work to remedy the problem, by supporting teachers, students, and families in their search for an education for our children, or continue to undermine our own future.

I hear that train a-comin'

2007-12-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

Last minute decisions loom: do I try to take the banjo on the train? How should I pack the gifts? But tomorrow, those decisions will have solidified and however they go, we'll make them work.

Have a good weekend, folks!

Excuse me?

2007-12-04T09:12:00.000-08:00

The New York Times has an article on those of us fools and nutcases who would prefer to see less waste over the holidays. It is, of course, presented as those austere green grinches verses the merry traditionalists.

*sigh*

My er... favorite part of the article is the characterization of a "call for less excessive consumption during the holidays" as "un- American". Oy.

For the record, my gifts, mostly homemade, all in reusable bags or containers, are also ones that I think the recipients will enjoy. For those who can't or shouldn't have sweets, I'll be roasting cashews with spices and including a card with the recipe. Frankly, small gifts of handmade candy rarely wind up in the trash. And since I'm putting the effort in, anyway, I can personalize the gifts with little additional work: an initial worked in a crocheted cloth is not difficult, once you've already decided to do the cloth. Nor is choosing colors that the person enjoys to begin with. And I don't think the recipient of that gift will be tossing it, either.

And apparantly, they ran a different version of the same story last year. Come on, people, this isn't difficult. (And just a hint: it's a good idea to turn the thermostat down during parties, because lots of people in a small space generate plenty of heat. It gets warm fast if you don't.)

Check it out.

2007-12-02T14:37:00.000-08:00

Don has some interesting thoughts on the politicization of Christmas display decisions.

http://countrycontemplative.wordpress.com/2007/12/01/christmas-displays/

Well, I've finished my candymaking.

2007-12-02T14:02:00.000-08:00

I realize that I haven't been posting much. The holidays have swallowed me whole, frankly. Currently sitting in my apartment are:

1 batch homemade from scratch caramels, neatly separated and put into containers.
1 batch chocolate dipped glazed apricots, still sitting on their wax paper until I find the energy to deal with them. (and not incidentally, where I put the roll of wax paper...)
1 batch candied apricots, drying until they are dry enough to get their final sugar coating.
1 triple batch dark chocolate cherry fudge, cooling.
1 quart homemade apricot preserves
Surprisingly few dirty dishes from all this (Thank you, dear!)
Several fabric gift bagged little gifts of candy and nuts for the dreidel game to be played at my husband's aunt's house.
Several origami fabric pouches.
Another yard of fabric to be turned into gift bags and pouches.
A mostly finished silver crocheted necklace with art glass beads
A few CDs for gifting by some independent artists I really enjoy. (Hi, Christine!)
A printout of some of the poetry and essays that I think a friend of mine will enjoy who does not have online access.
One wiped out fool who is enjoying a break by blogging and listening to music by Lorcan Otway and by Christine and her husband.
One messy livingroom that will have to be attacked this week.
One husband who is beginning to do that.