Tax & Poker Party @ My House: 2/25/2007

This is the day before Wendi's brain surgery.  Jen, Joe, John (Zack's friend), Zack (until he left for work), mom, dad, Mira, Bob, & I are gathered for the purpose of tax filing and poker.  We ordered Chinese and then added the words "in bed" to all our fortunes:

Bob: You will make many changes before settling down happily...in bed.
Joe: Good things will come to you in due time...in bed.
Me: It is impossible to please everybody.  Please yourself first... that's right...in bed.
Mira: You are capable of building a thriving business venture...uh oh...in bed.
Carol: Patience is the best remedy for every trouble...in bed...ain't that the truth!
Rog: You will soon receive an unusual proposition...in bed.
Jen: You have common sense and a lot of charm...in bed...figures.




I beat Joe in Texas Hold 'em....again.





We talked to Wendi on the phone.  She was getting cold feet.  She called me the next morning at school and told me she was sorry for not being more supportive when I sent Zack to Salem.  It made me cry.  It felt like she was making amends before signing out.  She must be so scared.

Me and Wendi

Break, Damnit!

12/19/2006

I suck today.  I am crabby and wound way tight, and I can't wait until Friday.  Two weeks of letting go.  I want to work somewhere else.  Far.
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*This was mid negotiations, mid evening-parent-meetings, mid union-parties-some-members-attended-just-to-complain-about-everything, mid mid-terms-and-student-stress, mid I-have-no-time-for-all-the-joy-everyone-else-seems-to-be-having, mid political-action-to-save-our-pensions-and-school-funding-and-tenure-and-etc, mid blizzards-that-caused-my-little-toyota-to-slide-and-spin-all-over-roads-til-I-had-to-call-Bob-to-come-and-collect-me-in-his-jeep.  


I often used up chunks of my beautiful life hoping for some future time so I could rest.  I did not allow myself breaks for weeks.  It was as if I believed I was only allowed a break during time designated for such: Christmas break or Spring break or Summer break, and often even those times were used for my graduate classwork. 

I can now catch myself missing time on as I am looking too forward to time off.  (Not always, but certainly more than when these were written.)  I am also learning to say no to doing things that cause anxiety and resistance inside me.  This has made an amazing difference in my level of happiness and in the levels of joy I am able to create at my job and everywhere else.  I give credit for this joy-giving practice to several conscious choices:

1. opting out of school politics

2. only trying to fix myself

3. focusing on what is awesome

4. reading books that lift me up

5. spending spare time with those who bring me joy

6. doing more of what I love
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Back to 2006- Christmas Eve

I've already shed about 2 or 3 layers of stress build-up.  I can physically feel them pull off me.  Then they drag behind me sometimes, and people can trip on them if they follow too close.  So I turn around and kick them off - breaking that last, weak connection, and it kind of wants to hurt and pretends it's going to (like a threat) and then, it falls off and I go, "aahhhh," and smile with little pools of relief and joy in my eyes.  I immediately want to call someone who I've neglected or taken for granted and tell them how beautiful they are.

I just bought a new journal to put in my stocking.  I am feeling a little bruised that there is nothing in my stocking yet, and Bob's and Zack's are spilling over.  It is so dumb that I even care.  I don't fill theirs in order to get mine filled.  I guess I need to look at all the other ways they think of me.  Maybe they don't know what to put in it.

Here are some things I would love to find in my stocking in case they are looking for clues in my journal:


stickers
pens
gift cards
markers
coloring book for grown ups
fat quarters
quilting markers
needles
beads
books
stamps
homemade silly love coupons
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12/23/2006 - Later

Sitting near my mother's tree in the room that holds all of my Christmas past - Shannon's pumpkin pie is being served - momma is so sick - she sits in her spot fighting back her constant cough - the blanket I wrapped around her earlier still warming her - I see an ornament  she made when I was small - I take it from its branch and study the little paper-tolled winter scene - I want to keep it and every year pull it from its ten month hibernation and remember my clever mother sitting with her friends in this room, their greeting cards, scissors, and strange smelling glue all over the card table - creating another dimension.

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*What are some choices you can make in your own life that would increase your capacity for giving and receiving JOY?  And speaking of you, thank you for reading these.  Although my higher self would write and write no matter who was paying attention (because big ME enjoys the process), my ego (little me) loves having an audience, and finds great joy in knowing you're out there.   

Stoney Lake 10/20/2006

Cindy and John McKinnon have welcomed Suzanne and I into their world - where meetings happen only once a year and misplaced-ugly-ass houseboats and weeds are their most distressing rivals - where all conversations revolve around grandkids and travel - where guest rooms in their stoney castle are equipped with robes and quilts and awesome fish pillows - where the fireplace crackles and the pond in back babbles and the hot tub hums and where two people ...who have paid ten times their dues...can share a secret smile on Sunday mornings because they know there will be no more three and a half hour drives back into 205 chaos.

I am so selfish, bringing too many bits and pieces of that 205 madness...carrying it with me to some of the only people I know who connect to it directly...or who used to.  Shame on me for pulling each frustration out of my baggage and trying to dispose of it here.  I picked up those bags because Cindy and John held those heavy awkward things for long enough, and have finally stopped feeling strange from the absence of the weight.  They have, alas, embraced the lightness.  They are free, and I must stop putting those dreadful things out all over their Stoney Lake world.  I will try harder tomorrow...to be a friend ...to show my appreciation ...to share their joy and leave my woes packed tightly back in those effing bags.

Salem Benefit Concert 10/13/2006

Northwoods Community Church 

Salem Benefit Concert

 - STARING - 

MY SON 

and the Salem Choir...

oh yeah, and Chris Rice.

  

The place is ENORMOUS - there is a coffee shop in the auditorium-sized waiting room for the auditorium!  Sweet Jesus, it is filling up fast.  I drove down from Thornwood...left @ 1:30, stopped for an oil change, and 5 hours later, which included a complete (but unintended) tour of Peoria, I am here. I am with my man-child who looks so handsome, and the change in his heart is radiating from him, and I feel so proud and relieved and grateful to God, and Salem, and him for being so brave and maleable.

My Girls 10/04/2006

SICU - Surgical Intensive Care Unit, Rush Hospital.  We sit in the atriumesque lounge where forgotten get well balloons are stuck to the vents 50 feet above us on the wall.  We wait an hour and a half in order to spend fifteen minutes nurturing mom.  It's me, Renee, Pauline, and Rog today.  Mom is off the ventilator, talking and even cracking jokes.  I got to watch her slip into deep happy sleep with snoring and everything.  She said to Renee, "you guys are wonderful!"  Renee and Pauline are talking chakras and reiki.  Dad is, as per Rog, handling it all like it's nothing.  He is only slightly obnoxious today.   He bought lunch and he is putting up with our jabs at his character with a sense of humor.

Going in now.

4:30 - 5:05.  We eeked out an extra 20 minutes.  Jen showed up mid visit so the 3 of us (me, Renee, and Jen) were in with her together.  Mom was upset and in pain and we were working, probably too hard, to make her feel better.

Renee asked, "what can we do to make you more comfortable?" and she said, "just what you're doing."

Jenny was crying a little (real quietly so she wouldn't give herself away to mom).  I tried to put mom in her happy place - floating her on her back in an imaginary pool at the imaginary spa with the giftshop full of fabulous stuff and everything is eight dollars...she smiled.  Some time passed quietly - Renee was sending love and strength through mom's feet as she massaged them.  Jen and I just stood nearby and opened our hearts so wide they ached -- and she mumbled:

"Jennifer?"
"Right here, mom."
"Renee?"
"I'm still here, mom, I love you."
"Gina?"
"I'm here, too, mom."

She smiled, comforted, and said, "my girls," then drifted of to sleep again.

I have never been so glad to be exactly where I was...right then.


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*These difficult times are always peppered (or sugared?) with joy and goodness.

For the past year, more or less, my relationship with mom has been strained.  I was choosing to feel pressured by her need for attention, and annoyed by her choices and her often gloomy attitude.  I was choosing to believe she was manifesting sickness and drama, and that did not suit my new desire to choose joy as often as I could.  There was all kinds of anger and resentment in me when I was around her.  Eventually we got into a fight which caused a 12 month silence between us.  There are several entries about this in my notebooks, which I will share or not, depending on what I decide then.  My point, now, I guess, is that revisiting this, and then reading Jason Mraz's blog: a taste of my own medicine, has opened me.  I see a version of me who wanted an excuse to exclude.  I see I've been missing out on a kind of joy that comes with caring for others...with caring for mothers.  I don't need to care for her, because that need would insist on her needing care, but I can still find the goodness in providing comfort for a woman who gave me so much.  I can still choose joy and be in a relationship with her.  I can let go of my resistance and accept her right where she is, as she has ALWAYS accepted me... until now.   And I don't blame her for that.  Today I will begin the journey to stop tolerating her, and start accepting her with my heart so wide open, it aches.

The Center Cannot Hold 9/18-9/28/2006

Waiting for a Thornton train on my way home @ 7:05.  Tonight was the first TABS (Teachers/Administrators/Board) meeting of the year.  We did a follow up and set goals.  I am feeling extra crabby.  I'm tired and super snippy.  I am beginning to resent all the extra work I'm doing.  I never get home before 7 anymore.  I fight the urge to give up at least once a week...usually more.  I miss Bob and Zack.  I miss my friends.  Oh, good, train's done...so is my whining.

7 days later:
Suzanne is very heavy today, which is not like her and throws me way off.  I am very tired - a new level of tired... it is frustrating to keep finding it impossible to scrape together enough energy to write an email, or grade a few papers, or think about what needs doing next.  It wouldn't matter if I could figure out what needs doing because I wouldn't be able to do it.  I think it has to do with my diet.  I should see a nutritionist...nah...too tired.

3 days after that:
Momma's in the hospital -- waiting on her angiogram that is scheduled for tomorrow morning.  I am in sixteen-year-old denial.  This cannot be happening, so it isn't.

Just spoke to Rog.  He is handling it like a pro.  (Dad has a knack for blowing up over weird, little stuff, like someone taking his pen.  He handles the things people are allowed to freak out about like a champion, though.  When I was sixteen, I buried his van up to the doors in sand on the beach at Beercan Alley.  No big deal... I didn't even get grounded or lose driving privileges.)

 

So he tells me the cardiologist said Mom will probably go right from the angiogram to by-pass surgery.  That yanked me out of my thin but protective denial bubble.  The world is spinning on and on, and I want to scream STOP!!!  HALT!!  JUST GIVE ME A LITTLE FREAKIN TIME HERE!!  JUST WAIT FOR ME TO PROCESS AND LOVE AND ENJOY SOME TIME WITH MY MOM!!! But Time is deaf, unyielding, and the world keeps spinning so fast I'm woozy...just slow down a little? please?
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*The stress of the union presidency eased up as I grew more confident and comfortable with myself in that role.  I even found it to be exciting, fun, and rewarding at times (mostly due to Suzanne's calm, wise, generous, and often humorous support).  But the demands of the position just seemed to grow and grow.  I am revisiting these entries, anchoring myself in the relief of a life filled with stuff I want to do. We get to choose.  Today I choose joy.  It is the only real thing I can do to change the world.

**Stay tuned for more on the momma trauma.  (I know I was wrong for that, but she is ok, so it's ok.)

Shanamazing. 8/3/2006

Saugatuck Reunion.  Day 2.5.  10 a.m.-ish. Coffee shop with Shannon.
We are sitting outside, Shan is enjoying her Chai latte intake and her life intake. Today, right now, I would like to capture how I see her in writing.  Here I go...

It's been about ten minutes and I can't seem to get the words.

Maybe...I see Shannon as a beautiful dichotomy of strength and sensitivity...of careful and abandon...of serious and silly...of sweet and cut throat...of tolerance and judgement...of south side and north side.  She adapts intelligently, she may want to complain but we rarely hear it, she is honest and forgiving, and strangely intimidating without meaning to be.  She is fresh and surprisingly fragile, yet wise beyond reason, and capable of armoring herself impenetrably against unwanted intruders.  She will not miss a new experience.  She is the opposite of lazy, yet she naps frequently and can be very, very patient.  She has a fast and furiously sharp wit that she will employ mercilessly if she is sure it won't hurt anyone, but she will guard it and check it if she senses your heart breaking even a little.  She is daring. She is caring. She is her very own goodness.

I wonder how she sees herself.

Relief? Relief. 6/26/2006

Earlier today I was going from 94 to 57 when a gold SUV pushed into my lane right on top of me.  I broke pretty hard and started skidding all over 2 lanes and 2 shoulders.  I was sure, at least 5 different times during that 40ish seconds, that this was it.  I imagined the feeling of the impact from one divider, then an oncoming car, then another divider.  I was so scared.  How do you write that kind of scared?  I was scared of the phone call Bob, Zack, and my mom were going to get, then scared of dying, then scared of being mangled for life and not dying, and way back there...around the edges of all that fear...was something else...was it relief?  Was it relief that once I did plow into something, all the spinning would, alas, come to a stop?  Or was it another kind of relief...a cowardly kind?

If that is true, and there was some part of me looking to get out of this BEAUTIFUL life, I need to re-evaluate.  Some of the choices I have made may be really hurting me.  Candice said her only concern with me taking on this job was what this job could do to me.  Am I strong enough to be what over 400 smart people expect from me?  Am I looking for an excuse to start saying no?  Why was that feeling there at all - barely making itself known - but definitely hanging around enough to have me recognize it?

Relief.  I know that's what I felt when the spinning finally did stop, and I landed on the shoulder facing oncoming-2:00 in-the-afternoon-Chicago traffic....

without

a

scratch. 

Maybe that other thing was more of an acceptance of whatever's next?  My own relaxing into the awareness of this body's temporariness?  What's really clear is that something inside me completely took over and drove me out of that mess. Whatever it was, it wanted me to stick around, and I am here now, and here is good. That, I know for sure.

An Autumn Day in June. 6/10/2006

The day keeps bouncing back and forth between 65 and 70 degrees.  Sheryl and I took a ride to Anderson's for spice wine and cider donuts because we're milking this "fall" day-with-no-threat-of-winter for all it's worth.  It is a joy getting a pretend autumn day.  We settled on a fabulous Port that does the spice wine thing with way more power-WOW.
(No donuts because they are not in season) shhhhhh.  There is a pot of Italian sausage soup on the stove top.  Maggie is galloping, no, prancing, around the yard in a crazysweet hippie outfit and hat.  Sheryl's sitting in the middle of her magic, resting her damaged discs, soaking them in wine.  Zack and Em are swimming - brrrrr - and frisbeeing and Jack Johnsoning and learning to know each other again.  Morris is lounging on the gazebo railing.  Lucy's sniffing the perimeter, looking for crumbs.  Anderson's Indiana Port is warming my belly and filling me with silly.  Life just can't get better than this.

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*Note: A quick history on the power of that last sentence...
My sister Jen believes that every time you announce (with all the conviction you can muster) that life simply cannot get any better than this, that God/universe/source takes that as a personal challenge.  She has since proven this theory too many times to count.  Try it.  I dare you.

End of Year Shananigans 6/1/2006

Yesterday: Poker Walk, Checkout, Terri's mom is having surgery today,  lunch w/Vrehas, Fuqua's retirement is sinking in, Galloy agreed to do Membership Committee, Fake principal interviews from faculty, tomorrow is golf outing - Suzanne, me, Rachel, and Ken.  Bob's joining Jim Dye's foursome.

Today (6/1/2006) One of my favorites in the "good people" catagory (which is why I will be calling her Peggy instead of her real name) walks up to Ken's table at the golf outing and with a nice buzz on, asks him, "what does yuh-neee-un mean?"  And Ken asks, "what?"  As everyone else watches, she repeats, "yuh-nee-un?...on your shirt."  Then she points to the giant word on his shirt and pronounces each syllable carefully while pointing to the letters, "yuh" (u) "nee" (ni) "un" (on).  He responds dryly with the seven other educators at the table, "it's UNION, Peg."  She says "Ohhh, oh my...please don't tell anyone!"

Earlier, on the golf course, Ken was whipping waterballoons at Gary, Larry, and Deb all day.  He jumped out of the cart while Rachel was driving and ran along side it while the ten pounds of keys and wallet and golf balls and other crap in the side pockets of his shorts swished back and forth opposite his stride -- fucking hysterical!  I almost peed my capris!  We left secret messages and accusations for Deb and George (who were behind us) inside the holes: a purple triangle, "Deb's not wearing her big girl panties," "George eats grass," and of course, pretzels.  All of this sillliness might have been influenced a little by the special lemonade I brought in two giant pitchers that took up the spot on the cart of the clubs I do not own.  The great irony, Bob taught me that it is proper golf ettiquette not to step on the terf too near the holes.  Maybe I need a few other lessons.

*Thank you universe, for putting a golf course willing to put up with Teachers Gone Wild year after year so near our school.  There is great joy in the release that happens there each June.

Sound Advice from Teenage Boys 5/28/2006

It's Sunday.  Bob is upstairs in our Courtyard hotel room, dressing for church...Baptist Church nonetheless.  Zack is waiting for the shower.  I am having a cup of way-too-hot coffee in the lobby--waiting for my gentle men.  Why are we churching for the first (and only) time together...ever?  Zack is singing in the choir...a Salem Boys Stewards of Grace guest choir.  Those two guys upstairs are my strength, and they are what makes it possible for me to let go of the shit from my other life ...and bother to pick it back up again.  I could not do either without them.  I would simply get buried in shit forever, or until the white coats came and took me away.

Last night we stole Zack for a night.  Bob golfed while Zack and I putzed around, then we all went to see Over the Hedge, which was over the edge ridiculous.

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Later, after church at Woody's (local gas station/buffet restaurant) and with the whole Salem gang, we are being entertained by the silliness of Zack and his friends when several bikers pulled into the parking lot:

Zack: There's a wild biker gang comin' in, let's run!
Chin: Just show them salad.  Then they'll run.  They hate salad.

Poetry Slam 5/12/2006

Thornwood Poetry Slam at Lincoln Oasis with Zack and Patti and Jess and these teenage poets.  This is so perfectly absurd watching young-full-of-creative-goodness language artists spit their pain and fierce convictions, love and intuitions, rants and hater amunition at the McDonalds Highway Oasis.  This is indeed a once-in-a-lifetime-crazy-glorious-experience.  Two ancient Gary guys belting out oldies while silver-haired stewardesses dance with our TW brothas and sistas of piff.  So sweet to see them mixin together, sharing their genius, baring their souls, appreciating each other.  This language thing is POWERFUL... STEAMROLLER POWERFUL...rollin me right over into jelly-joy. They are doing the Coco Cabana Conga!  Thank you for sharing the gift of this night with me!

205 Leadership 2006

I am a fan of collecting quotes.  These are all from 205 Leadership.  (This is a different kind of joy)

"We're building the ship as it's flying."
"Forgive me for being so spinikitee, but..."
"Let's write a waiver to waive the waiver."
"I'm thinking outside the contract."
"I'm not really sure what the Board does, I just wanna make some changes."
"I've always been a component against Block Scheduling."
At a Safe Schools Meeting:  "Well, I don't see the problem...we only have a couple bad deans."
"Now everyone is all discomboobulated."
"Hindsight is 50/50."
"We will try to forget that little foo poo."  (instead of faux pas)
"Education is not something that I do; it is something I believe."

Union Leadership in response to 205 leadership: "You can't write a grant on a wish."

An infamous parent: "The aviance in Thornridge is just so low."
Same parent: "It's alright to disagree to agree."

One of our own: "Can't you just give us some global specifics?"

A funny exchange between negotiators:
Team member: Was there a lot of movement?
Mediator: Define what you mean by "a lot."
Lucky Bill:  More than none?

Add your own favorites in a comment.   Please, in the name of joy, protect anonymity.

Joy in Race Relations 4/10/2006

Monday.  Jenny came to see me in my classroom after she presented for TW Career Day.  Randle H. taught her how to do the Black Power fist thing.  She asked, as she raised her fist in the air uncomfortably, "Is it okay if I do this?" The kids adored her.  I know because they said she was crusty.

A Stolen Sping Day 4/1/2006

Bob and I managed to sneak a day just for us.  We layed in bed until 11ish... well, to be fair, I snuck out to Walgreens for a pregnancy test (not pregnant), quilted for an hour, and then rejoined my love for some much needed snuggle-bonding.  We decided to take a drive to the Lighthouse Mall in Michigan City.  The day is a sunny-upper 40s-sweatshirt-chilly-but-still-smells-like-spring day.  Birds were especially silly this morning.  It made me laugh to listen to them.  They, along with this weather, always reminds me of Saugatuck and fourteen.  We ate lunch at Chili's and I smiled at Bob the way I used to, and he said, "There's my Gigi's smile!" I must smile at him the way he deserves more often.  He should never be surprised to see it.
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Note: This weekend I was laughing outloud at the nutjob birds and the earnestness in their songs.  I thought it was the first time I ever noticed how excited they were, like the rest of us, about the break in the weather.  It was interesting to read this old entry and find that I have been listening and noticing for a while.

Patti Magic 3/9/2006

Patti Brucki is magic.  She is a superhero of our schools--a healer of hearts--the most genuine humanitarian librarian.  In this awesomely psychic way, she knows exactly when someone is hurting or struggling, and she does the exact perfect thing, right exactly when the person needs it...even when that person has no idea how to say: "today I am especially vulnerable...my emotions are exposed and raw...will someone please help me cover them so they stop hurting for a few seconds...so I can breathe?"  How do you thank someone big enough for that?

The Worst Day of My Life 11/14/2005

Salem.

Sister Bay 8/?/2005

Door County - Sister Bay - Drink Coffee Cafe - 7 am

This latte is perfect.  I spilled a bunch on my way to the outdoor tables and almost cried over the loss.  Bob and Zack are sleeping at the hotel, and I snuck out for a walk.  This quiet time, all to myself, is a newly discovered joy.  Growing up in a 4 sister family, it never occurred to me to seek alone time.  In fact, for so long, I thought I didn't like being alone.  It's funny when we find out how little we know ourselves. The sound of a jogger's feet hitting the sidewalk happily distracts me from that thought.  A few cars roll past and the seagulls call out to try to wake their human crumb-throwers.  Oh, yum; this coffee!  Today I hope we find some mopeds to rent.

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Note: We did, indeed, find mopeds that day, (I was manifesting unawares) and it was those very mopeds that led Bob and I to purchase our own scooters a few years later.  (Scooters who received names the day we fell in love with them, and who will be highlighted in many journals to come.)  Our scooters bring us ridiculous joy and gave us another thing in common after over 10 years.  It is a beautiful blessing to find something new to share with an old friend.

On Becoming President... 5/11/2005

Sometimes people are mean.  How does one go about growing a thicker skin? Is there some kind of lotion I could use?  Or a class I could attend? Some mean people have no power over me, but the people who I've grown to trust and care about, when they bite, even just a little...my skin just tears away.  Yet, I do not protect myself, I never stop allowing my skin to be exposed.  I must want to be vulnerable.  I must enjoy being ripped apart.  Why the hell do I let it happen?  Over dumb little stuff too, like, "I consider this one to be a flea."  Well, aren't you the expert on knowing what's what?  Did you forget, though, that I am not?  That I am an infant when it comes to this kind of work, and I need just a little reassurance? I feel like a child with emotionally unavailable parents.  I can't even blame them.  They should be unavailable---they've been beat up and lied to and shit on.  Maybe they think I'm an idiot.  Maybe they don't trust me all of a sudden.  Am I untrustworthy?  The "dim" light?  The big joke?  I only want to be decent and do the next right thing.  Am I too dependent? Not dependent enough? Paranoid? I want to go home and hug Zack and be nice to Bob and stare at my tulips and maybe call mom and then watch some senseless TV show and go to bed early with Bob and Moon and Kayto....but I won't do that.  I will go before the Board with people who bite---to pretend I am confident, and say something nice---with anxiety creating more havoc inside my body... maybe even making some cancer---so that my colleagues can all go home and do whatever they want.  Where is my period????  Did this new anxiety feed on that?  I am 21 days late today.

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Special notes:
1. No, I was not pregnant.  It is my firm belief that the presidency sent me into early menopause of which (albeit not the healthiest of things to happen to a person) today, I am quite happy about.
2. The journey to find one's joy is not always magic castles and seasides.
3. These tougher times are the moments we learn the most about what we do not want in our lives.
4. My gratitude for people who do the work of union leadership is immense, and this understanding often brings me joy when I think of those people who have been and are still willing to do these jobs.
5. If you have ever felt this way, you are not alone.

On Running for Association President 3/12/2005

I am living in  fog of nerves and disbelief...I am vice president of TW and running for president of our district union next month.  I can barely believe it's really happening.  I feel like it's someone's bad joke and it will be on me...like the ugly girl being asked to prom by the quarterback as a prank.  Why has it always been so hard for me to accept that I am awesome?  Will these teachers really take me seriously?  Can I handle the shit some of them will surely be slinging?  Am I too sensitive for this?  Please, universe, let me be doing the right thing, and if my people put me in the front, let me never hear the cruelty they speak behind me.  Give me the strength and heart for this race, and even more so (if i am chosen) for the job.  And thank you, for giving me the good sense to balance my joys, my rest, and my challenges.

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--Later that day, on a small, wheeled desk chair,  Zack performed Chair-llet at the KC Craft Show.  He performed chair-abesques, chair-oets, and chair-dabourets.  He made us all laugh madly.  I adore him and the welcome distractions he brings to my life.  Thank you, universe, for always bringing me exactly what I ask for.

Sheryl's Magic Castle

Pulling into Sheryl's  driveway, I am ALWAYS pulled into this perfect scene from a feel-good ending to some syrupy movie, only it's not over--- I get to sit right there in it, and I can feel and breathe and see and smell it for hours --- stuck on pause inside that magical moment when everything is working out just right.  How does she do this?  Radek always working on some awesome project....the kids, Em & Logoosh running and giggling, playing basketball, swimming...Sheryl will inevitably come out the back door with peace hovering all around her like Lucy the dog...and Big Daddy Mo is picture-perfectly working the vast territory of his back yard, or basking in some sun-puddle...sometimes Lutek is here working synchronistically with Radek like they are one person -- one time traveler who met up with his younger self to hang out and build something.  Zack and I thrive here.  We come selfishly lapping up the luxury they have created and filling out pockets for later.

My "Old Dirt Hill" 6/6/2005

Today I am waiting for an oil change at the Toyota dealership in South Holland with the Coming to America greasy head stains above each seat in the waiting room.  It makes me laugh out loud because it's funny-gross.


My favorite song right now is "Old Dirt Hill" by Dave Matthews Band. It fills me with joy and gets me all nostalgic for those days when finding your favorite sweatshirt jacket was your greatest worry.  My "old dirt hill" was: Mt. Baldy, singing outrageous swear songs, the Adventurer's Club, Uncle Jim O's drum set, smokin' in the blue dinghy on the Kalamazoo River with Jen, the Bloody Boob and the funhouse at Lion's Park, Lan-Oak pool and ice skating, Lynwood Roller Rink, building forts in the field across the street, Charlie's Angels, kick-fights in the hallway, Barbies and "school" in the basement, belting out REO Speedwagon wearing HUGE headsets on the floor in the family room, Mom's Bridge Club, Ice Cream @ Round the Corner, Tony Decavitch and Lan's Theater, Crab Sandwiches on English muffins, makin' out in the Winnebago, walking the trestle...to have the run of the land and a whole lot of "old dirt hills" fills a soul with crazy joy.  "Yeah, bring that beat back to me again."

At the Sea 9/3/2004

Today we comb the mucky beach for squishy urchins and tiny crabs while we wait for my nephew's ship to come in.  He has been out at sea for many months.  Zack and I time our trip to Washington brilliantly, so we are able to share in the joy of his homecoming.  We can see a boat that may be his, off on the horizon--a tiny white dot.  Me, Zack, Steve, Gabe, and BG are here to receive Nick.  Gigi, Yolanda, and Cory (the captain's family) are schooling us in the tradition of the sailor's homecoming. Yolanda is this 50 pound bolt of cosmic light--zipping back and forth, up and down the beach-- looking for her father's vessel--then teaching me--and eventually everyone else-- about what lives under rocks near the shoreline. The older boys get to stop being cool for awhile and behave like curious little boys.  I smell kelp and fish and sand and sea, and the noises of this place calm me completely-- as if a sea trance has gently taken hold of my soul and embraced me like a loving sister.  Thank you, sister, for calling me here.

At the Copy Machine

Anyone who's ever taught in a public school just felt a tinge of anxiety when reading this title.  I apologize for that right off the bat, but this is where it all began for me...my ongoing journey to choose, seek, find, and revel in J-O-Y joy. 

It is about ten years ago, and I am standing in line at the copy machine on a pretty typical morning of rushing and planning and key-forgetting and going over the day's lesson in my mind and last minute photocopying.  There are three or four teachers ahead of me, and I probably have 30 minutes before I have to be in class in front of young people.  This often causes one to do a kind of I-gotta-go-to-the-bathroom dance behind one's colleagues.  I was definitely dancing.  The machine kept getting clogged, and each teacher in front of me puzzled over how to unclog it WAAAAYYYY to slowly as the clock was tocking (it never ticks during these times) away...

I am a pretty new teacher...two or three years new...proud of my calling...loving my job...usually smiling on top of self-doubt and intense stress.  I try to hold my smile as I become more and more frustrated each time I hear the tell-tale silence of another jam.  By the time I'm second in line, there is no smile-cover left.  I'm down to 15 minutes and now doing everything I can not to make grunting noises and roll my eyes obnoxiously at the teacher who struggles at the machine I am waiting for.  I hate this me.

Without being conscious of it, I was choosing to be what I hate. 

The whole time, the beautiful teacher behind me is humming sweetly.  I don't even realize it until it's my turn, and I know I'm going to make it.  As soon as I notice it, her humming fills me with peace and fascination.  I ask her, "How do you stay so calm and happy during this chaos?"  She went all teeth and responded, "Honey, there is not much in this life a person can control, but joy is one of them, and I'm keeping mine."

These words...well, you already know, don't you?