Getting To Know One Another

I am part of a women's group at church that has been meeting since early in the summer to study Christian formation. During our four months together, those of us in the group have gotten to know each other and ourselves a little better. The course consists of a six book series. We began the second book today. Someone (none of us currently in the group) decided that it would be a good idea to bring in a new person to facilitate the group. In my opinion, which no one asked for, this was a poor decision. Because if this, much of our time today was spent "getting to know one another". With the exception of one person, our new leader, we all know each other well enough to continue comfortably in the group. Nonetheless, we were asked to pair off and learn something about our partner that no one knows and then share that with the others.

I hate this kind of thing! I hate party games too. Unfortunately my partner could not use either of these things as something no one knows about me because I am such an introvert that if she had tried to pass them off as a surprising fact she would have been laughed at hysterically.

So what did she say about me? She asked about my life as a musician - a teacher and composer - as well as as a writer. She then inquired as to which was more fulfilling to me, writing music or writing words. I think that she was surprised when I responded that at this point in my life, writing words is more fulfilling. In the last several years I have not written any music that I am willing to let anyone hear. Although, in the last two weeks, I have begun work on something new. It is only about sixteen measures long right now and in its embryonic stage, but it is more than I have composed in a long time. Perhaps this is the beginning of a phase of music over words. Or, maybe I should write a song so that I can work with both. Something to think about . . .

Despie my dislike for group sharing of this nature, I thought I would be a good sport and share a few things about me that you don't know and probably really don't care about.

• Though I was a Navy brat and always lived near water, I don't like seafood. For many people a dislike of fish has to do with never having eaten fresh seafood. Even when it is fresh I don't like it. Occasionally I will eat tuna salad but I'm not sure that really counts as seafood.
• I am seriously claustrophobic. There better not be too many people in the elevator with me, my clothes can't be the least bit tight, and CAT scans of my head require lots of good drugs! Oh, and no middle seats on the plane.
• I have a sock obsession, particularly funky striped hand knit socks. And, I don't much care if the funky stripes on each sock match.
• I like to do the New York Times crossword puzzle every day even if the Friday puzzle makes me think I am a candidate for remedial education rather than MENSA.
• I do spell fairly well. Spelling errors on the page are the result of feline assistance. The cat does not spell well; she just likes to randomly type. In fact, she bites my hand when I try correct her spelling mistakes.
• It is fairly difficult to embarrass me. I have embarrassed myself so many times that there is little that anyone else can to make me turn those multiple shades of red.
• I don't like nuts in my ice cream, brownies or circle of friends.
• My idea of sexy lingerie is pajama bottoms with duckies on them and a T-shirt. (Like my socks, they don't match either.)
• I have more crayons than my kids do and I am not afraid to use them. I have signed birthday cards, graded tests and written notes to my kids' teachers with crayons. I do use the grown up colors like robin's egg blue, chestnut, and apricot. For the most important documents I resort to the more mature colors, the now retired ones, like blizzard blue, maize, or magic mint.
• Diet Coke is my drug of choice.

That may be more than you ever wanted to know about me.

Thank Yous

Tonight I went to Target to get a few necessities like toothpaste and deodorant. I was with BK who was looking for bulk birthday cards to send to the 100+ people in our parish who celebrate October birthdays. As we approached the stationary aisle, I saw a wash of red clearance tags. This is our lucky day, I thought to myself.

Have you ever really thought about how ridiculously expensive cards are? The average Hallmark greeting card costs between $2.50 and $3.50, and we complain about gas that is selling for $3.50 a gallon. (Actually, we filled up for $3.18 a gallon tonight. Gas was on sale too!) Whay are we willing to pay so much money for something that is more than likely going to be thrown away in 24 hours or less? At least with the $3.50 spent for a gallon of gas you can travel a few miles. Even a $3.00 cup of coffee at Starbucks seems like money that is better spent. This is all a whole other issue. Back to the birthday cards . . .

So we got close to the wall of cards and the massive number of red clearance tags and began looking for the best deal on birthday cards by the gross. OK, they didn't come by the gross. They came 8, 10, 20, even 40 to a package. As I surveyed the bargain cards, I realized that none were birthday cards; they were all "thank you" cards. What's up with that? I was suddenly struck with the realization that most people don't send thank you cards or notes anymore. If you are lucky, you will receive "a short email to say thanks for . . .", but most of the time, it seems like thank yous are forgotten. This is a sad deteroration of society today.

I can remember as a child having to sit down on Christmas afternoon to write thank you notes for my Christmas gifts. I never questioned the fact that I was being asked to do this. To this day, I still feel the need to convey thank yous, but I must admit that I am guilty of sending the quick email more often than not. I'm sure this is why there were so many thank you cards on clearance; nobody uses them anymore.

Several of you have commented on my absence from blogging in the last month. It is confession time. I have been a journaler for a long time. Prior to becoming a blogger, I handwrote, not typed, all of my journal entries. What I noticed about my own journaling practice was that when the going got tough, I stopped writing; I stopped writing at precisely the time that I probably needed to be writing most. Seemingly, that habit has carried over into my blogging as well. Life is a little screwy for me right now and I have backed away from writing, something I really don't like having done. I need to be writing and I want to be writing. I must say that what may follow in the posts of the next few months may not be the most insightful or profound material that has appeared here, but I will try to be consistent, or at least inconsistently consistent, with posting.

I owe thank yous to those of you who have taken the time to ask if I am OK and to tell me that you miss the regular posts. I probably should have invested in some of those clearnace thank you cards and hand written each of you a personal note. I didn't. However, please accept my heartfelt thank you here. Your care and concern mean a lot to me.

I also owe thank yous to many friends, both close and not so close, who have offered me care and support. "Thank you" seems like so little to give them in return, though these words always seem to evoke a sincere smile or a "your very welcome".

I am reminded on a daily basis how important it is to acknowledge the things in our lives for which we are thankful. Perhaps if we had to sit down and offer thanksgiving by sending a handwritten personal card for all in our lives that we are thankful for, even the gloomy and seemingly empty days would not seem so bad. Every day brings with it something to be thankful for, even if it is just waking up in the morning. Think about what things today deserve a thank you note from you.

Thanks for reading!

Seven Years Later

It is September 11th, again. Seven years after the attack on America, we as a nation are still attempting to heal from the deep wounds inflicted in each of us on that day. Talking heads around the country have expounded on how we should acknowledge this day each year, what the permanent memorial should and shouldn't be, and how best to go forward as a nation. All of this chatter comes from raw emotions still unresolved seven years after that horrible day.

Today marks a first on this blog, a guest blogger. One of my most faithful readers and the subject of many posts here is Offspring #2, my fifteen year old daughter, Erin. And today she will be the first guest to share this space with me.

She was eight years old and in the fourth grade on this day back in 2001. Here are her thoughts on September 11, 2001, seven years later.

"Some people hijacked planes this morning; I heard it on the radio."

I didn't even flinch when my best friend walked into our classroom and spouted off her new information on the day in America. Why should I? At eight-years-old, I had no idea what "a hijacking" was. Even two hours later when my small, five person, 4th grade class was huddled around the radio, I didn't understand the severity of the situation. We were the only students in the school that knew what was going on; the principal had ordered the teachers not to tell their classes anything, but Mr. Medina and his five rebels, isolated in the only second story classroom on the entire private school campus, dared not heed this instruction and miss out on the important events of that chaotic day. My innocence didn't even suggest that I might worry about my Dad who was on a flight that morning. I had no idea at the time that my sister, one hallway away with the other middle schoolers, would be oblivious until we got into the car together that afternoon. I had no idea then that I would be writing about it today.

Looking back, I guess we all try to focus on the silver linings: we came together as a nation, we brought out true American heroes, and we proved our strength in the face of a tragedy. But, when I think about it, a lot of that has worn off. It's election year- we are definitely a divided nation. Those American heroes that stepped up? Many of them are injured; I can imagine that all of them are haunted by the reality of the images that live in their minds from this day. And why does it take a tragedy to show our strength? Now, it's just our generation's historical day of magnitude. For our parents it was Challenger. Our grandparents had JFK's assassination. D-Day. Pearl Harbor. Everyone has their own story of that day. Everyone has their own fear from that day. Everyone will always have that day. Own it. It's ours. What more can we say? What more should we say?


Out of the mouth of babes . . .
Thank you Erin!

Making and Breaking Habits

"They" (whoever they are) say that it takes twenty eight days for a behavior to become a habit. I have never heard a statistic on how many days it takes to break a habit, but I fear that it is much fewer than twenty eight. Since school started only two and half weeks ago, I have broken many of the good habits that I established over the summer. I have surprised myself with the things that I have let slip by since the 25th of August, the first day of this academic year. If you are reading this, you have probably noticed that one thing that I have neglected is regular posts here. I can't even give you a good reason for it. I'd like to say that I haven't had time to write because I am getting ten hours of sleep every night, all my papers are graded, I have lesson plans for the entire semester, and my house is spotless. No such luck. None of these things is true. I have no good reason for allowing my habit of blogging to be broken.

The sad thing is that blogging is not the only thing that I have neglected. Over the summer I was diligent about making my bed every morning. Admittedly part of the reason that I established this habit in the first place was to keep the dog and cat hair, deposited by critters who spend more time in my bed than I do, from accumulating on my sheets and pillow. It was so nice to crawl in bed every night between sheets that contained not a trace of animal hair. Those days are gone. I can't tell you the last time I actually made my bed first crack out of the barrel upon rising. It just isn't happening. "Why?", you ask. Sadly, I don't know. Yes I get up earlier during the school year and my morning has more of a routine, but why is making the bed not a part of that routine? Again, I have no answer.

Another thing that I have let slip is knitting. Today was the first day I have knit in several weeks and the only reason I did today was because BK had a ball of sock yarn in the car. I did not have any knitting in any bag that I had with me. That just isn't normal for me. Because of Spirit of Knitting, BK, Alissa, and I have had very little time to knit things for our own families and ourselves. We have recently decided to cease publication, partially because we are all busy with other things and partially since we began publication five years ago, the market has been saturated with knitting magazines whose advertising budget and manpower we can't compete with. Considering that we made the decision to quit so that we would have more knitting time, I can't figure out why I have knit nary a stitch . . .and I have ungraded papers and a dirty house.

I have never been a big fan of TV, but I do like to watch the Tonight Show and the news regularly. I can't tell you the last time I've seen either. We're on hurricane Ike? How did we get to "I" already? Don't they start with "A" at the beginning of every season? I can't believe I have missed eight storms. And what is all this talk about bulldogs, pigs, and lipstick? I feel so out of touch with the world!

A fairly new habit that I began over the summer was journaling with mandalas. Prior to blogging, I was an avid journaler. I never intended for this blog to replace my paper and pencil accounts, but it has. I am still using the same spiral notebook for handwritten journal entries that I was using at this time last year. That is unheard of for me. So, I decided to try a new approach, drawing mandalas each night rather than writing. I was quite diligent from early in July until the start of school. Though I have not completely neglected my morning and evening routines, making the bed and knitting, I have not drawn every night like I did during my summer break.

What is really going on here? My teaching load is double what it normally is but my schedule is certainly manageable. The extra classroom time that I have does change the flow of my week but it really is not an excuse for breaking all my good habits of self discipline. The fact that I have no logical explanation for permitting myself to stray away from these good disciplines is inexcusable. These things have been the mainstay of my sanity in the past. And, I still need them for that.

Now that the weekly routines of this academic year have been established, it is time for me to figure out how to work these things that I need and enjoy back into my daily schedule. This just should not be problematic. I have no good reasons here for my neglect other than inattention and laziness.

For my own well-being, I need to dedicate 28 days to making my bed first thing in the morning, and promise myself some knitting time every day, perhaps while I am watching the news or the Tonight Show. Drawing mandalas could happen in place of housekeeping or grading papers. Surely that wouldn't be a problem. Or would it? I'll let you know how long it takes me to reestablish my old habits, but only the good ones! For now, I am going to go draw a mandala and then crawl into my slightly hair enriched bed.

Another Year

It is hard to believe that summer has passed and another school year has begun. Back in May, I had all these plans for the three months of summer break. I was going to clean out my closet, weed out things in the kitchen cabinets, garden, and read the books that I collected in a mountainous stack during school last year.

My closet is still a mess. No, in all fairness, it has been upgraded to a disaster. This is because one of the cats thinks that the closet is his primary residence. He is quite happy to nap on the extra blankets that are stored on the upper shelves. The problem comes when the dog, upon seeing the cat's return "home" after a visit to the food bowl or the litter box decides to follow, or chase, him to the closet. This results in a scramble of fur that sends shoes flying and clothes falling from their hangers as the animals navigate through my shirts as if they were an obstacle course.

And then there are the kitchen cabinets . . .has anyone seen the sifter? The lemon zester? The metric measuring cups? I had hoped that Brooke might take part in restoring a sense of order to the cabinets. She uses the kitchen and all that it has to offer more than any of us. * NOTE: The dishwasher maintains itself as too technologically advanced for anyone here. I had hoped that the working conditions around here might be deemed unacceptable and that Brooke might take it upon herself to better the situation. No such luck. I also thought that she might like the perks from this job because she is moving into an apartment this year at school, an apartment that she chose based purely on the kitchen and its amenities. I guess that isn't such a bad criterion to use. She could have chosen her place of habitation based on its proximity to a tattoo parlor or boys' dorm. Brooke does nor leave for another month. If she wants to equip her new kitchen, it may be in her best interest to organize the cabinets here so that she can abscond with all the cool gadgets that I have forgotten I have.

I did garden . . .once, maybe twice . . .this summer. I planted the front flower bed back in May. I watered it . . .once, maybe twice. I thought about dumping the four bags of mulch that are sitting in the driveway . . .once, maybe twice. Both the plants and the weeds are doing well in this flower bed.

I did read some, mostly poetry and not nearly everything that accumulated on the "to read" shelf. In fact, for every book that I pulled out and read, two more made their way to the already overcrowded living conditions found on my personal bookshelves. There is always Christmas break . . .

Despite the fact that I feel like I have wasted my summer, because I can't tell you anything that I accomplished during the months of May. June, July, or August, I am glad to return to the grind of my school schedule. This year it is a little different. All of my three regular classes are at capacity. And this year I have been given an extra class to teach. Preparing for this extra class is no big deal, but teaching it does involve and extra trip to Dallas every week.

The biggest change for me now that school is back in session is the necessity to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Over the summer, 3:oo am is a reasonable hour because the next afternoon always holds the possibility of a nap. A 3:00 am bedtime is a huge mistake when the alarm goes off at 6:00 am on school days. I will miss my middle of the night ruminations on the poetry I am reading, or the daily meditation from my favorite book , or drawing, or writing into the wee hours of the morning. My creative side works on a totally different clock than does the rational thinker in me who knows she needs more than three hours of sleep each night.

So, the new academic year is in full swing. The theory is that when the economy is bad, students flock to the colleges and universities for a place of respite as well as for an opportunity to hone their current skills or acquire new ones in order to be employable during these bad economic times.

To all of you who are involved in education as either a teacher or student, may the joy of learning never escape you. For the rest of you, remember those school zones - tickets for going over 20 mph and more for talking on your cell phone while travelling through a school zone.

The Little Things In Life

It is easy to become overwhelmed by all the big things that happen in life. Sometimes though it is the smallest of things that gives us the ability to look at life from a slightly different perspective and maybe even cause us to pause and smile.

Such was the case this morning. This flower poked its head up from amidst the gravel along the driveway. It was all alone but seemed perfectly happy to stand tall and greet the new day. Perhaps this little flower has something to teach us all.



Stand tall, smile, and greet each new day with joy.

One Little Question

It is show time again. Quite a bit goes on in the arts community in Denton. For the performing groups, this means being creative when it comes to finding adequate rehearsal space. Several local venues have been gracious in allowing us to use their facilities. Tonight we were in a new place, our local senior citizens' center.

When we moved to Denton back in the eighties, all of the Chamber of Commerce information about Denton touted it as a great place for both young people, because of our two local universities, and older people, because of available services to seniors, to live. Back then, as a young graduate student, I didn't pay much attention to what our city had to offer for its older citizens. Now that information seems a little more relevant.

Rehearsal began at 7 pm. As I entered the building, there were twelve or fifteen senior citizens gathered in a sitting area chatting and watching TV. They all seemed to be enjoying the company of one another. I made my way to the multi-purpose room to set our makeshift stage. It is a wonderful room with lots of space to work. While the costumer measured some of the actors, I wandered around the building just to see what was there. I must say that I was impressed.

There was a room with two pool tables, a library that works on the honor system, a gym area with treadmills and exercise bikes, and a cafeteria that serves lunch daily. I also looked at the bulletin board listing all of the upcoming events. Trips are being offered to local baseball games, to Southfork Ranch, to the Texas State Fair, to the casino just across the Oklahoma border, and to some local museums. These are some busy people! And if travelling about is not your thing, the center offers many classes right there on the premises - conversational Spanish, computer literacy, tap dancing, self defense, and belly dancing. They seem to try and find something for everyone.

The physical building is also well laid out for people who may be using walkers or in wheel chairs. Much of the space is open and the rooms that do have doors have extra wide ones. All of the hallways are lined with railings much like those that are found in hospitals, thus making it easy for those who may be a little unsteady on their feet to make their way through the building.

It is not surprising to me that every stall in the ladies' room was a handicapped friendly stall. There was one thing, however, about the restroom that was a bit puzzling to me. Why did they have sanitary napkin and tampon dispensers on the wall? Surely there must be some justice in the world. When I am old enough to enjoy all the benefits that our senior citizens' center has to offer, I better not need to be carrying a quarter for one of those machines "just in case"!

Other than that, the golden years in Denton aren't looking half bad.