Category Archive

What? I’m supposed to have WORDS?

Okay: Read Catherine Newman’s Waiting for Birdy. Very funny, and so, so true. And so much more interesting than ANYTHING I might crank out here tonight.

Thanks for all your kind words and thoughts. I know you will understand when I say don’t want to talk about it right now. That I don’t want to talk about it is probably surprising considering the following:

I took the Personality Types profile for the first time as a college freshman. I knew it then as the Myers-Briggs Personality Types Test. I have never been anything other than an INFJ, and when, during my junior year, I suggested to my professor/friend Steve that I might not be an “F” anymore, he actually laughed in my face. I have taken the test so many times that I know many of the questions by heart, and I have even tried to throw it. I can’t. Reading the INFJ profile is like reading a description of myself. It’s downright eerie.

If this sort of thing interests you, there’s a great book called Please Understand Methat goes into detailed descriptions of each type, and even interprets each type through life activity filters such as marriage, parenting, and work. I had a copy but it fell victim to the Great School Fire of 2006. I highly recommend it (the book, not the fire).

Thanks to Trista for making me aware of this site and nifty badge. It has lots of cool info about the sixteen personality types and multiple intelligences, including famous people who share your individual type. Incidentally, Tom Selleck is an INFJ. After all that ribbing I’ve endured about being smitten with a Republican card-carrying member of the NRA, I am pleased to say my Magnum obsession now makes perfect sense.

January: Have you ever had so much going on that you couldn’t light on one thing to focus on (or in this case write about)?

February: It’s official: I’m a Flickr whore.

March: I’ve been mulling over this post for several days.

April: My temperature did not go up today.

May: There was a time when I was always embarrassed.

June: Imagine a sheepish look on my face.

July: This is a story of embarrassment (those dead plants were in my house for months) made right.

August: I found my creativity! It was inside my sewing basket! Who knew?

September: School has started. I’m so thrilled.

October: Okay, so I’m behind on Photo Friday yet again.

November: Since the laptop I’ve been using for all of my internet access was in my classroom, I have to resort to my antique desktop, which sometimes freezes mid-sentence.

December: It is 80 degrees in my class–er, cubicle.

Another STEAL THIS MEME brought to you by Calliope.

1) December is to the teaching profession as Sand is to your crack at the beach in the summer.

2) If you gave me a Dys0n vacuum cleaner I would think you were reading my secret diary (& loving you for it) but if you gave me sparkly jewelry I may wonder if you really know me at all.

3) My house is decorated with bits and pieces of everything I love.

4) All I want for Christmas is for Calliope to get knocked up. (different than #2, this is where you tell us how much you really want world peace or mandatory nudity at strip malls…)

5) Giving a loved one soap or any type of body wash is the path of least resistance where gift-giving goes, unless said relative really loves soap or body wash. I myself like soap and body wash. In fact, I would love some of that green Dove soap in my stocking. Hint.

6) What is your favorite holiday movie? “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas”

7) What is your favorite holiday food dish? My mom’s cornbread dressing. Who would win in a street fight? Elijah or Jesus? I’m thinking Mary would come in to break it up and kick both their butts.

9) If I hear one more holiday song I will hope that I FINALLY start feeling some holiday spirit.

10) What is your favorite moment/s of 2006? & for all of you bitters, what is (are) your least favorite moments? My favorite moment was realizing that the rythmic pokes I was feeling several times of day was actually Chickie suffering from hiccups. My most bitter moment was watching my workplace burn down.

I stole this meme at Cali’s urging. If you haven’t already, you are welcome to steal it, too. I don’t think she’d mind. She’s nice that way. Be advised, those fill-in-the blank questions are HARD.

1) If somebody said you were like a breakfast cereal, which one would you be and why?

Honeycombs, because I am multi-faceted and VERY sweet.

2) How do you take your coffee/tea?

Regular coffee hot and black, but I prefer an extra-hot latte made with 2% milk.
When drinking tea I prefer Earl Grey, and I like it with half a packet of Splenda.

3) Your bedroom is on fire. You can only reach in & grab ONE thing. Do you grab your photo album or your journals?

I’m going to exercise my rights as a recent fire survivor to not answer this question.

4) When I see Peanut M&Ms and Diet Coke I wish I could inhale them so that everyone else would know what a myth my reputation as a health nut really is.

5) Got porn?

I’m WAAAAYYY too vanilla for porn.

6) If I could meet with my college roomate and explain why I think she is a coward hiding behind her religion for ceasing to be my friend I would never think about our lost friendship again.

7) What is the worst pet name in the history of your family?

Once we had a dachshund named Feller, whose nickname was Pooter. Take. Your. Pick.

Unless, of course, you are talking about pet names as in a cutesy little name you call a family member or significant other. In that case, again, take your pick: my childhood pediatrician called me Hee-Ho (sadly, it stuck); my mom’s childhood nickname was BaBo; and I called (okay, sometimes still call) my Aunt Karen Kar-Kar.
I would eat a bowl of OATMEAL for free, but if you want me to eat a bowl of GRITS you’d have to pay me THE COST OF A BOTTLE OF ABSOLUT, which is what I’d have to drink in order to eat the grits.

9) What 80’s tv star would make you giggle like a school girl?

Duh! Tom Selleck! (And yes, friends, I KNOW he’s a Republican AND a member of NRA. I choose to overlook these things.)

10) What age was your best and why?

I like now the best. 32. Maybe just the 30s in general. So far, so good.

Shamelessly stolen from Lorem.

A is for Age: Thirty-one (at least for the next few weeks)
B is for booze of choice: Corona with lime…oh, how I miss it.
C is for Career: English teacher
D is for Dog: Suzanna
E is essential items you use/love everyday: Burt’s Bees lip balm, the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, my body pillow.
F is for favorite song of the moment: “Stupid Girls” by Pink
G is for favorite games: Soccer, Scrabble
H is for hometown: Beckley, WV
I is for instruments you play: I play my stereo. Does that count?
J is for jam or jelly you like: Blackberry
K is for kids: Chickie, Kid-in-Training
L is for last kiss: my cat’s little pink nose
M is for most admired trait: In myself? Resourcefulness. In others? Nerve.
N is for name of your crush: I *heart* Tom Selleck!
O is for overnight hospital stays: I had the croup when I was 2 or 3. I got to sleep in a transparent tent and color the sheets with crayons.
P is for phobias: Spiders and camelback crickets, looking or sounding stupid, tornadoes.
Q is for quotes you like: “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth leaves the whole world hungry and blind.”–John McCutcheon
R is for biggest regret: “Regrets are just lessons we haven’t learned yet.”–Beth Orton.
S is for sweets of your choice: Swiss Cake Rolls, Edy’s Dibs (mint!)
T is for time you wake up: When I have to–6:00; when I want to–around 10.
U is for underwear: Comfy cotton
V is for vegetables you love: Carrots, zucchini, tomatoes
W is for worst habit: Buying things I don’t really need; worrying about the inevitable or the uncontrollable.
X is for x-rays you’ve had: My teeth, my left pinkie toe, my uterus, and if MRIs count, my head.
Y is for yummy food you make: I make excellent pineapple salsa, mashed potatoes, and omelettes.
Z is for zodiac: Virgo

1. One book that changed your life? Hmmm…one? Well, I’ve talked about Kingsolver’s The Bean Trees here and here; it bears mentioning again. Neely Tucker’s Love in the Driest Season made me realize how charmed my life has been (it also gets mention here). Most recently, Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love made me think very deeply about spirituality and surviving turmoil. It’s definitely one I’d read again. Which brings us to…

2. One book you have read more than once? I’ve read The Bean Trees numerous times. I reread the entire Harry Potter series every 18 months-2 years.

3. One book you would want on a desert island? If I were stranded on a desert island tomorrow I’d want the latter two books mentioned in question 8, as that might be the only way I’d ever complete either of them.

4. One book that made you laugh?Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. I read it on a flight to a conference a few years ago; we were descending to land so I couldn’t get out of my seat, and something she said struck me as so hiliarious I laughed until I almost–literally–wet myself.

5. One book that made you cry? As it doesn’t really take much, most of them. However, I cried through most of Love in the Driest Season.

6. One book you wish had been written? I’d like to answer this hopefully and futuristically. I would like for Barbara Kingsolver to write another novel. C’mon, woman, it’s been long enough!

7. One book you wish had never been written? The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton. Seriously, I’m sorry I read it. It still haunts me.

8. One book you are currently reading? For pleasure, Anne Lamott’s Operating Instructions. Not so pleasureable–Developing Library and Information Center Collections and Introduction to Reference Work, Vol. I.

9. One book you have been meaning to read? I could most accurately answer this question by photographing various flat surfaces about my bedroom. Instead, I’ll go with something Gayle has been trying to get me to read for, oh, ten years, Watership Down.

10. Now tag five people: I’ll say the obligatory, “do it if you want to.” Unless you are my sister, she who has not blogged since early May, in which case you have no choice.

Thanks to Trista for tagging me to do this very cool “mix tape” questionnaire.

What songs would you have on your personal “meaningful mix” CD?

1) A favorite political track: Times, They are a-Changin’ by Bob Dylan and Dear Mr. President by Pink.
2) One of those tracks that make you dance on the dance floor no matter what: Weapon of Choice by Fatboy Slim.
3) The song you’d use to tell someone you love them: I Love You by Daniel Lanois and Emmylou Harris. I know, how original.
4) A song that has made you sit down and analyze its lyrics: After All by Dar Williams, and not because I didn’t “get” the lyrics–I was just so blown away by the imagery that I wanted to look at it line by line like a poem.
5) A song that you like, that a two year old would like as well: Mambo Craze by DePhazz. But to steal Bri’s idea of the iMovie of my kid, I’d have to say Thea Gilmore’s cover of Crazy Love. Listen to it and tell me you don’t see images of a baby.
6) A song that gives you an energy boost: Galileo by the Indigo Girls and This Train by Tret Fure.
7) A song that you and your grandparents (would probably) like: Keep on the Sunny Side by June Carter Cash. A song that you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now: Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks.
9) A sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life: Sweet Old World by Emmylou Harris or Ghost by the Indigo Girls.
10) A peppy song that would start the opening credits of the movie about your life: Wide Open Spaces by The Dixie Chicks
11) A good song from a genre of music that no one would guess that you liked: Walk in Jerusalem by Mahalia Jackson.
12) A song that you think should have been playing when you were born: Close to You by the Carpenters. Heh.
13) A favorite artist duo collaboration: Creepin’ In by Dolly Parton and Norah Jones
14) A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally, commonsenically, religiously, etc.): This was the hardest one. I’m still not sure I have an answer. I’m going to go with Right Thurr by Chingy, because Ellen dances to it all the time on her show and I love the beat, but how can I like a song with the word “thurr” in the title?
15) The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it: Oops, I Did it Again by Britney Spears (I blame the Will & Grace soundtrack).
16) Your smooth song, for relaxing: Almost every single track of Emmylou Harris’s Wrecking Ball.
17) A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at: I dream of sending my college roommate/ex-best friend Patty Larkin’s 24/7/365.
1 A favorite track from an outfit considered a “super-group”: Is Queen a “super group”? If so, then You’re My Best Friend.
19) A song that makes you reminisce about good times with a family member: Drivin’ My Life Away by Eddie Rabbit. My grandfather liked this song. In fact, any country song that was on the radio during the early 80s makes me think of him.
20) Your favorite song at this moment in time: Toss up between Educated Guess and Bliss Like This, both by Ani DiFranco, and Stupid Girls by Pink.

If you could live anywhere where would that be & why?

London. I have a hard time explaining why, though. There just aren’t words to describe my love and longing for this place, for the sound and smell of the Underground, the confidence I discovered as I navigated the busy streets, the thrill of walking Portabello Road market or Regent’s Park. It’s been 12 years since I lived there and six since my last visit, and there’s still not a day that passes that I’m not homesick for London.

If you could only eat one thing for breakfast, one thing for lunch & one thing for dinner - for a month- what would that be?

Easy, as this is pretty much the case with me anyway.

Breakfast: a Zone Perfect fudge graham protein bar and a bottle of water.

Lunch: a plain bagel with cream cheese; a carton of peach soy yogurt; a small bag of baby carrots; a dill pickle; and a bottle of water.

Dinner: a bowl of campanelle pasta with butter and Parmesan cheese and a chicken breast with steamed broccoli or carrots; bread and butter; strawberries; and a bottle of water.

If you could create a fabulous summer music festival where would you have it & who would perform?

I have actually fantasized about this before. My dream job is to own a small music hall (like The Birchmere in Alexandria, VA or The Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro, NC). With that in mind, my music festival would be small–only one stage, because I would want to be able to hear all of the musicians and not have to make difficult decisions. I would have it in the field behind my house a la Woodstock, because it’s all about me, of course, so I would be able to walk to the festival and get the best seat. Festival visitors could park in all the cul-de-sacs in my neighborhood. The performers could hang out in my house in between sets, and I would invite local restaurants like H*rsey’s BBQ and El*zabeth’s Pizza to set up shop in my yard.

The festival would last for two days, maybe three, and musicians would play full sets, not hourlongs like most festivals. The musicians, in no particular order, would be:

Tret Fure
Jack Johnson
John McCutcheon
Donna the Buffalo and Jim Lauderdale
Joan Baez
Mary Chapin Carpenter
The Indigo Girls
Dar Williams
Patty Larkin
Ubaka Hill
Willie Nelson
Josh Ritter
Girlyman
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings
The Mosquitos
Erin McKeown
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones
Johnny and June Carter Cash (hey, it’s a FANTASY!)

Okay, clearly it would last THREE days.

You have a dream of yourself in ten years. Describe it.

I am 41. I have been in public education for 20 years, the last 10 in the school library, and I am considering early retirement so I can get to work on my second career, which involves one, a combination, or all of the following: photography, writing, music (other people’s) and travel. My child (sometimes I see a girl, sometimes a boy) is 9, and we are excited because as soon as school is out we are going to London to visit Aunt Megan, who moved there a few months ago to work for a British publishing house; and then to California to visit Aunt Charity and witness the opening of her second art studio. Ma Gayle, Nonna, and KarKar are going with us. I have just finished building my dream house on Oak Hollow Lake, and every morning I watch the sun rise over the water, latte and Zone bar in hand. We’re having a party Memorial Day weekend, and when I close my eyes I can see clearly the faces of everyone I love gathered there in my home, smiling, laughing, dreaming right along with me.

This post brought to you by Cali.

What do you think about the new immigration laws the government is trying to put into effect? What do you think that will do to your classes as a teacher?

I get my news from two sources: the AOL startpage and NPR. And sometimes not NPR, depending on whether or not I’m addicted to some CD. That being said, I don’t know as much about these laws as I should. I have mixed feelings about what I do know, so I’m not going to address this question.

Instead, I would like to talk about how there are now only 21 school days remaining. I know I keep mentioning this, but sadly, it’s just about the only thing I can think about. There’s room in my brain for little else. I grow less patient with my students by the day. I’ve started speaking to colleagues through clenched teeth. I find myself wondering if anyone would miss me if I crawled under my desk. But don’t worry, I’m only like this during the month of May. Come June I’ll be back to my old self. I’ll have original thoughts and clever ideas. Meanwhile I’m still here (read: under a quilt on the couch watching “Everybody Loves Raymond” reruns), and there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

Am I your favorite student ever? Why or why not.

No.*

To repeat a question, what ARE you doing this summer? Are you working somewhere and if yes, where? Are you going to hang out with me?

This summer I plan to lie around in my pool** and eat banana popcicles and read. As for working, are you kidding? Have you ever known me to work during the summer? Ha. Haha. Unless you consider cutting the grass and planting things and transporting books from the library to my screened porch, HECK NO. No work for me. If you are interested in any of these activities then sure, I’ll hang out with you.

*See, now this is the kind of answer I normally get to these kinds of questions. No one EVER answers the “why or why not” part. But I have already answered this question. See?

**I buy an inflatable baby pool every summer and set it up on my deck. There is no cozier place to read. I know you can’t wait to see a picture of that!

This post brought to you by Feeny.

Most embarrassing moments make good blog fodder, if you have enough perspective.

There was a time when I was always embarrassed. I was painfully shy as a child; talking was embarrassing. Then I became a teacher. Nothing fazes me now. Nothing.

How about telling us about the time you almost chucked one of your students out the window when they…

During my first year I tried to be very serious, very stern all of the time. I had not yet developed a comfort zone in which I as teacher could talk and laugh with the students as humans AND teach them at the same time. But a kid named Gary shot all of this to hell. He was an average student in an honors 9th grade English class, and he was very chatty, so he sat front and center. I had a small table at the front of the room where I often sat to conduct class. Gary was maybe three feet away from me; I could have reached out and…smacked him. One day after the class had been doing some group work I sat on my table with my hand raised (my signal for order) and waited for everyone to settle and get quiet. It took several minutes. Finally the room was silent. I was irritated and they could tell. You could have heard a pin drop. Gary, from his seat right under my nose, where he sat with his hands folded looking for all the world like a picture of obedience and dedication, chose that moment to look up at me and giggle like the Pillsbury Doughboy. “Hee hee.” I lost all composure. I laughed. The kids laughed, tentatively at first, and then when they realized I wasn’t mad they lost it, too.

My favorite part of my job is talking with kids, playing with their minds and engaging them in intellectual battles. I find it’s not that hard to balance that with teaching, that the two are not really so different. I often think of that moment when Gary channeled the Pillsbury Doughboy, and I’m glad I laughed. If I’d chucked him out the window, which really was my first thought, I might have turned out to be a different teacher.

What’s your perfect moment? It doesn’t have to have actually happened, it can be your dream of a perfect moment. Who is there? Where are you?

My perfect moment is seeing my child for the first time. Or will be. I’ll revisit this one someday.

How about the worst vacation story you can muster. Could be yours, could be someone else’s. Always better if it’s yours though.

A Story of The Great Salt Lake
For Trista

Picture it: Nevada, July 1997. My best friend Paula and I are on a 21-day journey across the United States, and Salt Lake City is our respite stop before camping excursions at Lake Powell and the Grand Canyon. We have been driving for several days already, and we are tired. We have been eating lots of peanut butter crackers and Slim Jims. We need to do laundry. Lucky for us, Paula’s oldest brother Joel was living in SLC at the time, and he invited us to stay with him and his washer/dryer for a few days. It was grand. We slept late and washed clothes. I think we even cooked a real meal. By our second day in SLC we were feeling up to a day trip, so we consulted the AAA books and decided to spend the afternoon at Antelope Island State Park on the Great Salkt Lake.

We packed a picnic lunch, slathered ourselves with sunblock, tossed some beach towels in the back seat, and hit the road. I should have known something was not right when, upon crossing the threshold of the bridge that connected Antelope Island to the “mainland,” a smell worse than the worst dog fart infiltrated the car. We’d been riding with the windows down, of course, basking in the warm breeze, so the stench filled the car quite quickly. Rolling the windows up didn’t help, either…just made us feel more enveloped by the smell. Neither of us spoke (perhaps we were afraid of tasting the smell?) but I’m sure Paula was thinking, as I was, “What the HELL?” I’m not sure if the smell actually faded, or if we just got used to it, but we were buoyed by the sight of the beautiful blue lake. It’s really quite something, all white sand and water for miles. We were pumped. A day at the beach!

We got our stuff out of the car and headed for the shore. Both of us were wearing sandals (hello? it’s the beach? wouldn’t you be wearing sandals?). This turned out to be a grave error. Let me first explain that the beaches in the Eastern United States are packed sand beaches. Sure, there’s a stretch of soft sinking sand near the dunes , but once you get past it you’re on solid ground. This is where we’d come from, what we were expecting. Alas, the entire stretch of sand at Antelope Island was powder. Beautiful white powder. Beautiful white powder baking, blazing beneath the fiery sun in July. I think the temperature was 100 that day, but the sand must have been 150. And if you’ve ever walked in soft sand you know that once you sink there’s no recovery. The sand is inside your shoes, and you are inside the sand, and when that sand is just a small chemical reaction away from being a wine goblet, your exposed skin begins to melt. Okay, blister. Same difference.

By the time we made it to sand that was ever so slightly firm and had hurled our towels down so we could dive to safety, we were both in shock. We both just stared dumbly at the water for a while, and then Paula suggested that we cool off. Yes. Great. Let’s. We headed for the water, practically tip-toeing to avoid the Sand of Fire, and waded into one of the world’s most famous bodies of water. Someone later told us the stench we encountered driving in was the result of dead animals who had attempted to drink the water and had perished in the process. Apparently drinking salt water does not do a body good. Unless of course you are a brine fly.

The Brine Fly, according to my research, is predatory but does not prey on humans. This is a dirty lie. This noxious creature, which skims the surface of the water in search of food, produces the worst insect bite known to mankind. And thanks to their abundant population, they do quite a bit a damage in quite a short span of time. Don’t believe me? Look at the picture below. Note the lovely horizon, the purple mountain majesty in the background, the wispy white clouds in the azure sky. Now look at the water’s edge. See it? That wide black band? Think it’s a shadow? Think again. That there is bugs.

After less than five minutes in the water we simultaneously plodded to our beach towels (no words needed to be spoken), gathered our stuff, and walked to the car. We were blazing hot. Our feet were blistered. Our legs were covered with little red welts. Just before I got into the car and turned around and shot this picture. We drove back to Joel’s apartment in silence, rubbed Sting Ease all over our legs, and sat on Joel’s deck overlooking the city. We never spoke of the Great Salt Lake again.

The end.

This post brought to you by Sharon.

What’s your favorite color?
I always say my favorite color is blue, but that’s not really true. My favorite color is color. I love the green of early spring, when the leaves are so small individually that you really can’t call them leaves, but all together up there against the blue sky they are a brilliant shade that seems to glow sunlight. I love the silver taupe color of Chapin’s belly fur. It looks like art strokes from someone’s paintbrush. I love the color my toes turn when I have a tan. The produce section of a good grocery store makes me giddy. I am a whore for 10-pack colored Sharpies and Crayola crayons. When I was four I stole two handfuls of loose buttons from Jo-Ann Fabrics because the combination of their cool hard roundness in my hands and their bright primary colors was so beautiful that I couldn’t bear to leave the store without them. (I had to take them back, of course, but shortly after this incident my grandmother started keeping her buttons in a cookie tin, to which I had full access. It was way better than theft.)

You’ve never taken drugs. Why not? Would you, if you knew that your safety would be guaranteed and/or no one ever told? When I was in high school I didn’t do drugs because I was just plain afraid, and I didn’t hang out with people who did drugs. When I was in college I didn’t do drugs because I was afraid of losing control. I knew people who smoked pot, but again, I didn’t really hang out with the drug crowd. Now I would never do drugs because I teach high school students and I see the effects of drug abuse every day. I teach kids whose parents were users during pregnancy, and I teach kids who are so addicted to any number of substances that their only thought is where they’re going to get their next gram of whatever. It’s not pretty. So no, not even with all those guarantees.

What book has touched you the deepest in your life?
Most recently, Love in the Driest Season by Neely Tucker. I purchased a copy for myself, and the day after I finished reading it I purchased five more. I gave them to five people and told them to read the book and share, or read it and return it to me. The ones that come back to me get passed right along to someone else. I just gave a copy to a colleague this morning. If you’re interested, buy a copy or email me your address, and when one comes back to me I’ll pass it along.

The book that’s meant the most to me overall is Barbara Kingsolver’s The Bean Trees, which I dicuss here. I’ve read it numerous times, and each time I am different, so I see the story in a different way. Every single time, though, I am moved deep in my core by the characters and their stories. Seriously, read it if you haven’t.

This post brought to you by Lorem.

If Chapin and Suzanna were to converse (magically) for an entire day, and you could understand them, what would they say?
Suzanna: Um, you’re not supposed to be up there on the counter.
Chapin: Bite me.
S: Uh, I’m telling Mom.
C: Bite me.

S: Hey, you’re not supposed to be scratching the sofa.
C: Bite me.
S: I am SO telling Mom.
C: Bite me.

S: Excuse me, but that’s MY food you’re eating.
C: Bite me.
S: Your bowl is full. I can see it from here. I’m telling Mom.
C: Bite me.

And so on, until I finally arrive and Suzanna is so excited to see me that all of Chapin’s bad behavior is forgotten as she wiggles uncontrollably and smiles her freaky dog smile. Chapin is, of course, smirking and thinking to himself, “Stupid dog.”

If you had to choose between being blind, being deaf, or being mute, which would you pick, and why?
Mute. I didn’t talk much at all when I was a child; I learned a lot that way, keeping my mouth shut and my eyes and ears open. Lots of trouble is started by talking. I’m a better writer than speaker anyway, so if I couldn’t talk I’d never be put on the spot. I’d always be able to plan out what I want to say to people. I know I’m going to botch this, so maybe someone can set me straight, but in some culture you aren’t allowed to speak unless you are holding the talking stick or some other such object. I think this is a good idea and would serve our culture well, not to mention our government. It would save people from making big fools of themselves or saying things they don’t really mean. As far as I can see, talking causes a lot of trouble.

Of course, there was this one time when speaking would have saved me a lot of trouble. I was hiding from my cousin Tanya because I didn’t want to play with her. I could hear her calling me and calling me from across the street (we weren’t allowed to cross without supervision, so she was probably waiting for me to materialize so I could have someone escort me to her house) but I remained silent and hidden. Then another voice joined the call. My mom’s voice. Because I was a little bit afraid of Tanya back then, I didn’t answer my mom, because if I revealed myself then Tanya would know where I’d been the whole time, and she’d know I’d been ignoring her. My mom kept calling; I kept not answering. Finally my mom set out on a search of the yard and discovered me, curled up behind one of the big Maples in my grandparents’ yard. She had been worried, but when she saw me in hearing distance and realized I’d been able to hear her the whole time, she jerked me up out of hiding, broke a switch off the tree, and swatted me all the way back to the house. Tanya saw it all and was mean to me for the rest of the week. So yeah, talking would have been a good idea in that situation. But I could do without it otherwise.

Why haven’t you seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory, young lady?!?
Because Willy Wonka is a symbol of Fascism and his candymaking symbolizes his desire to lure people everywhere into the big trap that is Fascist society.

Actually, that is bullshit. I don’t know why I haven’t seen it. “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” was awesome, and I like the story, so I don’t know what’s holding me back. I think it’s coming up on my Netflix list, though, so I’ll be watching it soon.

Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?
Because on the day that I was born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled moondust in my hair and golden starlight in my eyes of…wait. That’s not right.

Who is your favorite sister?
My first thought was Whoopi Goldberg, but she wasn’t really a sister, she was just pretending. I also like Julie Andrews, but her heart wasn’t in it and she eventually became a singer, so she doesn’t count either. So I guess I’d have to say Mary Patrick and Mary Clarence–I don’t know their real names–the chunky one who danced in the bar and the little one with the big voice. Oh, and the old one, the one who had a gravely voice and always had something sarcastic to say. Yes, those are my favorite sisters.

And last, but CERTAINLY not least, will you write my paper for me? Why or why not?
No, I will not write your paper for you. I will not write your paper for you for three reasons. First, I just finished writing a paper of my own. It was 21 pages long. I do not want to write another paper for a very long time. Second, I have no idea what your paper is supposed to be about. I mean, what if I wrote it on the life cycle of frogs, but it was actually supposed to be about the process by which beer is made? You would get an “F.” The third and final reason I will not write your paper for you is that you are a brilliant writer and should have no trouble chronicling the life cycle of frogs, or whatever it is you are chronicling.

This post brought to you by Megan.

How’s your house hunt going?
My house hunt has been put on hold temporarily. I am still, as they say, reading the market, but the job hunt has assumed top priority. Which side of the county I live in will depend on where I end up working. And don’t get me started on working. I know the time of year is working on me, but I could really not work and be happy. Spring break was ample proof that I could easily occupy myself and never get bored or feel shiftless. Of course, I’d have to live in a Maytag box and eat previously chewed gum and the occasional fast food joint discards, and this, my friends, is not what I have in mind when I say I’d rather not work. So yeah. I’m still job hunting.

If you were any animal other than a primate, which animal would you be and why?
A bird, I think. A wild bird–maybe a chickadee or a sparrow, something small. They get to fly whenever they want, most of them are beautiful, and for once I’d be able to sing without drawing frightened looks from innocent bystanders. Also, people feed birds, so there would always be an all-you-can-eat buffet around every corner.

What are you doing with yourself this summer?
Most likely more of this, minus eating after the cat.

Have you ever had one of those students who make you so glad that you became a teacher?
Several. There are a few every year. Usually not the goody-goody over-achievers, either, but the truly bright, real, funny, honest kids, the ones you can have actual conversations with. If you’d like to meet one of them, go here.

What was your favorite book when you were a tween?
In school media we identify tweens as kids ages 9-12, so I’m going to base my answer on that classification. With that in mind, I have to confess that I don’t remember much about my life between the ages of 9 and 12. I do know that I absolutely loved books like Charlotte’s Web, The Mouse and the Motorcycle, and Stuart Little. See a pattern? I was the kid who had long, conversations and scripted “scenes” with her stuffed animals. (I taped these scenes with my portable tape recorder; I added music with my little Casio keyboard; each animal had a different voice. My grandmother still has some of these tapes. Can you smell the blackmail possibilities?) I wanted Ralph the mouse and Stuart Little to be real. I wanted to be extra small so I could ride around in my mom’s pocket and hide in tiny spaces.

This would be a good time to confess something. I was an awful student until I hit middle school. Awful. I almost failed 4th grade. I never did homework. I didn’t pay attention. I never, ever applied myself. On every report card from elementary and early middle school, the story is the same: “hd is not working up to her potential. hd could do better. hd is not nearly as stupid as she wants us to think she is.” It wasn’t pretty. I started life as a reader–my grandfather read to me all the time, books by Nostradamus, the Bible, and lots of other giant volumes I can’t name–and I have been a reading addict since high school. But in between I spent most of my free time outside climbing things, digging, making stuff, playing with my dogs, and having long conversations with my imaginary talking animals. I still do those things, but now I read, too. Part Tomboy Girl, part Book Worm. I like it that way.

This post brought to you by Trista.

You might have noticed (and if you haven’t, why not? Have you given up on me?) that there isn’t a lot of writing going on here lately. Sure, I’ve posted, but mostly stuff I’ve borrowed (from Jay Leno, for example) or stolen (Hi, Trista!). What’s missing, you ask? That’s right, begging. As in “beg, borrow and steal.” So I’m asking–okay, begging–you for material.

Here’s how this will work: you ask me a question, and I’ll answer it in the form of a post. Actually, this idea was also stolen (Hi, Lorem!), but what the hell. I’ll reserve the right to completely stray from the question’s original topic, and if I’m not comfortable with your question I might ignore it and talk about something else. Please avoid yes/no questions unless, of course, they include a follow-up question of some kind. (What kind of English teacher would I be if I didn’t include that rule?)

If you’re wondering why I’m resorting to this, might I remind you that this is the absolute craziest time of year for anyone in the education field? I am using all of my brain cells–all of them!–to control violent behavior (my own) and avoid encounters with ignorant people (most of my students and half my co-workers). I’m also exerting a great deal of energy on the weather at my school. You read that right: my school has its own weather. It’s either Antarctica or Africa. Not much in-between. Every morning when I pick out my clothes I have to analyze yesterday’s buiding climate, the actual climate outside, the last phone call dispatched to the HVAC guys at the central office to come “fix” the temperature, and the relative building temperature change that may or may not have taken place overnight based on all of the above. Most days I choose badly. Like today, when I wore long sleeves, pants and socks because it was warm over the weekend and I assumed the air at school would be on full blast. Alas, the AIR IS BROKEN so it was 84 degrees in my classroom, and warmer in the library and the office where I spent most of my day.

You see where this is going, don’t you? Unless you want me to talk about weather for the rest of the week, I BEG you, ask me a question or two.

I stole this from Trista. She didn’t tag me. She didn’t even suggest that anyone else participate. I just took it. I have nothing new or interesting to say, and this is the perfect remedy, because there is always plenty of old crap to dredge up.

1. Who was your first Prom date? I didn’t actually go to the prom with a date until my senior year. I was a prom attendant as a sophomore, which meant I got to stand around and serve punch and cookies to upperclassmen while wearing a Really Ugly Dress, the same Really Ugly Dress as the other 11 attendants. Wait, make that nine. Two of them were boys. My newly married volleyball coach and her hunky husband were chaperones, and I got to dance with the husband. I didn’t go to my junior prom, but I did participate in the prom picture event at my friend Meredith’s house. My friend Jenny and I got all dressed up and went to Meredith’s to see everyone off, and then we went out to eat and to a stage performance of Steel Magnolias. I went to my senior prom with Michael F., who was one of my best friends. We eventually dated. He is still one of my best friends, and the only person from HS with whom I still communicate. All in all, the prom was boring; I’d much rather see Steel Magnolias.

2. Who was your first roommate(s)? Dayna. I was a teaching scholarship recipient, and all of my fellow scholarship recipients had scholarship recipient roomates. I did not. Dayna, who was initially a computer programming major, was randomly assigned to our little section of the dorm. We were both very shy, and at freshmen orientation they made us do multiple physical ice breaker activities on the Fonville Fountain Terrace. We were both mortified, so we half-heartedly did all of our icebreakers together. She eventually became a teacher. What can I say? It’s contagious. We shared a suite with Rosemary and Stephanie, who were also teaching scholarship recipients but are no longer teachers. Again, what can I say? They were cured. Rosemary and Stephanie and I still communicate. Dayna stopped speaking to me years ago, and to this day I’m not entirely sure why. To quote the movie “Beaches,” she took her friendship away without even asking me. I am still furious with her for this, because she is a huge part of all of my college memories, is in most of my college pictures, and was practically adopted by my family, and now she might has well live on another planet. I don’t even know where she lives.

3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink the first time you got drunk? It’s important that you know a few things first. First, during my last year of college I shared a house with Dayna (see #2), Paula, and a guy named Tim. I don’t t know how we ended up with Tim; he did not go to college with us, and none of actually KNEW him. I think we inherited him from our landlord. Anyway, Tim watched “Cocktail” one night and decided he was going to become a bartender. He enrolled in bartending school. He watched that movie EVERY DAY. He built a bar in our dining room. A fully stocked bar. The second thing you need to know is that I’m not much of a drinker. Don’t get me wrong, I love beer, and I enjoy a variety of mixed drinks, but even in college drinking was not high on my priority list. However, I willingly tasted every drink Tim made. He was not bad. That January it snowed 10 inches. My itty bitty car (see below) was pretty much buried, and the roads were impassable, so we were stuck in the house. Dayna had gone home to Pennsylvania for a few weeks (our college had a short “winter term” during January and she didn’t need the course hours), and Tim got so bored he walked somewhere (not kidding), so Paula and I were pretty much left to our own devices. We read. We watched a few videos. We read. We re-watched the videos. By the third day we were bored. I decided we should make a fancy meal, so I set about baking a French baguette, and Paula went to work on a chicken dish. My boss had given me a bottle of wine for Christmas, so we had a delicious meal and polished off the wine. This same boss who had given me the wine had once imparted to me that brandy was the best liquor to drink in cold weather, so we headed for the bar. We drank all the brandy. By now we were hot from drinking all the brandy, so we mixed a few rum and Diet Cokes. Then we mixed some more. Then we mixed some more. If Paula is reading this right now she is probably gagging, as the mere mention of the phrase “rum and Coke” causes her to feel ill. I don’t really remember what happened after the third rum and Diet Coke (hence the reason I do not like getting drunk), but I do remember waking up on the sofa and walking down the hall to find Paula. She was lying in the bathroom floor with her cheek on the ceramic tile, and when she saw me in the doorway she looked up and croaked, “Tile is cold.” Good times.

4. What was your first job? Hostess at Cracker Barrell. My mom still has my brown personalized apron. I hated every minute of it.

5. What was your first car? A dull black1990 model Nissan Pulsar. I drove it until its tires practically fell off and the fuel lines all but disentigrated.

6. When did you go to your first funeral? When I was seven years old. My Uncle Renn died on my 7th birthday. It was my first experience with death, and my first experience with empathy. Renn was my cousin Tanya’s father, and Tanya was my best friend, and when my mom and I walked into their house the first thing I saw was Tanya curled up under a round end table. “My dad is dead,” she told me, and I just sat down next to her on the floor. Even now I don’t think of that image without crying.

7. How old were you when you first moved away from your home town? I was nine when we left the town where I was born, and where most of my family lived. That was the hardest move. I “left home” when I was 21 to go to college.

8. Who was your first grade teacher? Mrs. Haynes. I vomited on her desk once, because I was so shy I couldn’t get out the words “I feel sick.” She was very kind to me. If a child vomited on my desk I would quit.

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? London, England. I was so nervous and excited that I accidentally pushed the call button [before takeoff] while playing with the air vent, so when a stewardess arrived at my seat I sputtered, “Can I have a diet Coke?” She looked at me like I had just crawled out of a hole somewhere and haughtily said, “When the plane starts flying,” and walked away.

10. When did you sneak out of your house for the first time, who was it with? My friend Jodi. We were in the 7th grade. We crawled out of her basement window and walked to our friend Minda’s house, but Minda forgot to set her alarm and slept right through our meeting time, so we just went back to Jodi’s. It was very disappointing; I think we were expecting drama and mystery and…what? I don’t know, but we never did it again.

11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with her? Tanya (see #6), and yes, we are still friends. She is 9 months older than I am, and we played together from the time we could both walk. She lives outside DC, so we don’t see each other often, but whenever we talk on the phone it’s at least a 2-hour event. She has 3 little boys, so I love our phone conversations. It’s like listening to a reality show. I’m glad she’s still a part of my life, because talking to her keeps me connected to a part of my life and pieces of my family that I desperately miss.

12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house? In a 200 year old dorm on the campus of Elon Collge.

13. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid/groomsmen? My cousin Tanya’s (see #11). My sisters were the flower girls.

14. What is the first thing you do in the morning? Take my temperature.

15. What is the first concert you ever went to? Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters at the West Virginia State Fair.

16. First tattoo or piercing? My Aunt Karen had my ears pierced when I was very young–four or five–and she neither told nor asked permission of my mother. That night when my mom was washing my hair she saw the earrings, threw up her hands and gasped, and dropped my head into the tub. Note to my sisters: if you DARE pierce my child’s ears without telling my I will HUNT YOU DOWN and HURT YOU.

17. First Celebrity crush? I wanted to marry David Copperfield, the magician who makes entire buildings disappear.

18. Age of first kiss? Twelve. Randy C. Skating rink. We were both on skates, and he’d been eating a Reece’s Cup. Ugh.

19. First crush? Justin N. He got married a few years ago, and even after all this time I felt a little stir of jealously when I heard.

20. First time you did drugs? I’m with Trista on this one–never.

Call me behind the times. I’m sure this has been around for weeks, but I just found it over at Beth’s site. I’m covering a Japanese class made up of three boys, and they are finished with their work with 20 minutes left in class. I can either complete this little survey, or I can watch aforementioned boys touch the television screen and then try to shock each other. You think I’m kidding, don’t you?

1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago I was a first year teacher. I was probably as enthusiastic and idealistic as the first year teachers I now work with, and whom I now regard with a sidelong cynical stare while shaking my head and thinking to myself, “Virgins.” I was living in a tiny duplex apartment, which I shared with Suzanna and a colony of camel back crickets. I was getting ready drive across the country with my best friend. I had a really skinny ass then.

2. What were you doing 1 year ago?
One year ago this very week I met with one of the lead doctors at the fertility clinic in Cary in preparation for my IUI adventure. I was trying in earnest to find a new home for Harry. I had just discovered the wonder that is Yoga.

3. Five snacks you enjoy:
Cheez-its
chips and salsa
banana popsicles
kettle corn
fried crab rangoon

4. Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
Whoa. Too many to name. Many, many, many old country songs, quite a few really bad 80s rock songs, and numerous contemporary folk and Indie songs. Here are the ones I’m singing a lot right now:

Little Black Crow by the Divine Maggees
Lost and Found by Patty Larkin
When the Wind Blows by Tret Fure
Constellations by Jack Johnson
Perfect World by The Indigo Girls

5. Five bad habits:
picking my cuticles
checking my email 86 times a day
worrying
obsessing about things I can’t control
grinding my teeth

6. Five things you like doing:
reading on my screened porch
writing (in general, and with my fountain pen, which sort of makes this two different things, but not really)
being with people I love
paddling (in a kayak, Gutter Minds!)
taking pictures

7. Five things you would never wear, buy or get again:
a thong (hey, you asked)
diet Coke with Splenda
a curling iron
tapered leg pants
pantyhose

8. Five favorite toys:
my MP3 player
Swiffer WetJet
my new wok
my camera
the computer

9. Five people I want tagged:
All the other bored souls out there in the Universe

Four non-library jobs I’ve had:
1. Cracker Barrell hostess
2. Hair salon assistant manager
3. One-on-one counselor at camp for handicapped kids
4. English teacher

Four Authors, Books, or Series I read over and over:
1. The Bean Trees, Barbara Kingsolver
2. Harry Potter series
3. Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott
4. Om Yoga, Cyndi Lee

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. Steel Magnolias
2. Frequency
3. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
4. You’ve Got Mail

Four TV shows I love(d):
1. Designing Women
2. Friends
3. Magnum, P.I.
4. Little House on the Prairie

Four places I’ve lived:
1. London, England
2. Beckley, West Virginia
3. Greensboro, North Carolina
4. Sadly, all the other places I’ve lived are within a 30 mile radius of Greensboro.

Four places to vacation:
1. London
2. Italy
3. North Carolina mountains
4. New Mexico

Four sites I visit/use daily:
1. Google
2. Fertility Friend
3. Too many blogs to name
4. Blackboard (the online classroom)

Four people I’d like to meet in person, based on their blogs:I agree with Jen–I don’t want to pick just four!
1. Jen
2. Trista
3. Crystal
4. Calliope

Four foods I yearn for:
1. DIET Coke
2. Reece’s cups
3. French baguettes, hot from the oven, with brie smeared all over it, oh God, I want it now
4. My Mom’s cornbread dressing

Four inventions I’m grateful for:
1. Swiffer Wet Jet
2. Gum
3. Vacuum cleaners
4. Retractable dog leashes

Four musical choices for my personal soundtrack:
1. the Indigo Girls
2. Dar Williams
3. Jack Johnson
4. 60s rock

Four nouns that describe me:
1. worrier
2. giver
3. observer
4. friend

Four Bloggers I’m Tagging:
1. Megan
2. Elaine
3. Calliope
4. Trista

*I know, it’s not original. I stole it from Jen. I actually spent as much time trying to think of a catchy title as I did thinking about my lists.

Have you ever had so much going on that you couldn’t light on one thing to focus on (or in this case write about)? That’s me now, and let me tell you, when I finally do find the balanced place I’ll have a story to tell. In the meantime, here are some more re-runs.

The Ride
(for Derek)

He says little, but from his eyes
I know our family-gathering ritual
has not yet fallen prey to the passage of time.
His tired boots, caked with mud and miles,
wait by the door, ready for action
like leaders of some exotic expedition.
The safety goggles hang expectantly
from the kitchen doorknob and his hooded jacket
rests against the back of a dining room chair.
The four-wheeler, smelling of fuel and cold air,
sits idly in its corner of the garage.
He is ready.
I need only ask.I remember our first ride.
We blazed through the woods,
along a farmer’s field trail and over—
yes, over—small trees,
past murky ponds, mud puddles,
pencil-thin creeks in yard-wide beds.
I clasped my hands around his waist,
cautiously lifted my face to the wind.
Immersed in the tranquility of speed,
I suddenly remembered the day he was born
and my mother took me to see him,
her sister’s boy, the first grandson—
recalled his blond curls, the mischief in his eyes
and how I always carried him on my back.
We were connected then.
We still are.

Nowadays he carries me.
I cling to his back and we ride.
He makes sure I’m holding on,
protects me from low menacing branches,
slows down at puddles so I don’t get muddy
when I know he’d rather fly.
On these four wheels our worlds reverse
and there is a certain wildness for me
in trusting my life to this man-child
whose four-year old giggle I still hear sometimes.
I linger a moment in my mind with the little boy
no longer little, who now carries the youngest grandchild,
my mother’s third girl, on his shoulders as I once
carried him. Then he looks my way, and it is my turn.
He nods toward the open door. I am ready.



Paradox

“It’s weird being me,”the singing poet said,
and I agree: my head
is full, and empty—balloon
filled with air, with nothing, and soon
it just deflates, and out roams

the vacancy and fullness known
as oxygen. The sign is unplugged but still
there is a tiny neon tube, at will
blinking off on, off on; people look,
then walk away and I am off the hook.

I am a blank page covered
with doodles and lines—like a lover
soft, like a stone wall cold and hard.
My eyes are clear glass and colored shards,
jaw steady, lips shake, one hand

cuts while the other stitches. The band
marches triple-time to my daily dirge.
I want to run but I have the urge
to sleep a century long like Rip, unaware
of my brittle confusion, my liquid despair.

I see my face in the magic mirror,
smile and glare, begging the question: “Here or
there? Where are you, am I, are we?”
I answer myself with laughter and see
tears in the reflection. What happens when

the looking glass breaks—hey, maybe then
I’ll just be: two sides, black and white,
ever-changing undone deal, wrong, right,
indifferent. My brain beats, my heart
is a scholar—my horse runs alongside the cart.

I am a writer acting a song on a clean
canvas, from red to violet and every note between.
Sweet contradiction, beautiful incongruity
resting, waking, under my surface. See?
It’s weird being me.

I haven’t been able to assemble enough functional brain cells to write new material (they are all on holiday), so I’m taking a cue from the television networks–I’m giving you re-runs. The following is an assortment of previously written poetry…because I don’t want things to get too dusty around here.

Happy New Year, people.

Seeing Mars on Megan’s Birthday

The planets fall in line this Virgo night
And offer up a view of distant Mars,
Glowing like some crazy bloodshot star
Through August haze and dirty city light.

I’m standing in the middle of the street
The third late summer evening in a row
To see what sixty-thousand years ago
Ancient eyes glimpsed. I wipe away the heat

And sigh, and turn toward the house but then
I see it burning pink against the pall.
It makes the others stars look gray and small
As if to glow as brightly would be a sin,

And I cannot believe I could have missed
It there two nights before, but then, today
Is Megan’s birthday and she has a way
Of bringing things to light. I can’t resist

The wonder juxtaposed beneath black space,
How on the evening of my sister’s birth
Sixteen years later Mars is seen from Earth.
Next week it will be gone without a trace,

The stars resume their ordinary gleam,
But Megan is a light that will not dim
Like Mars, a fleeting planetary whim–
She shines in dark and day, in sleep, in dreams.

Southern Comfort

When the yelling was
particularly loud nights, days
found me hiding in the corner
between the sofa and the wall
in my mother’s mother’s house.
I could not escape

her presence,
her healing gifts:
a Push-up and a damp yellow
washcloth to cool my burning
hot cheeks. She gathered me
into her lap and talked

of things I loved–
watching birds, riding PaPa’s tractor,
picking blackberries and walking
to the store for gum and pop. Before
the Push-up was gone I was
smiling again. The way she

wiped away the sherbet
and misunderstanding, I almost believed
that old yellow cloth was magic.
Seems like a century ago,
and now I find myself wishing
for Push-ups and magic washcloths

and the safety of a lap.
This girl could use
a gentle rocking, a cool cloth
against eyes that have seen
too much, and the taste
of soft orange sherbet

would be a welcome change
from swallowing the bitter pills
that life often prescribes.
I have grown up, and wise,
and I know the answers are harder
than this–but my little girl memory

still recalls the color and the cool,
the orange and yellow comfort
of a frozen treat and a cloth
so worn and thin I can see
my grandma’s hand through its gauzy threads
reaching out to touch my face.

Fun! And such a good writing practice activity. I’m making my students do it, except they have to write a memory that they have of themselves with either Romeo and Juliet, you know, from when they used to live in Verona. BRILLIANT!

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don’t speak often, please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL MEMORY OF YOU AND ME. It can be anything you want–good or bad–BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.

When you’re finished, post this paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON’T ACTUALLY remember about you.

*Who am I kidding? Here in NC two INCHES would cancel school. Anyway, story still applies….

1. Catch up on my magazines. I could paper my walls with back issues of The Progressive, Yoga Journal, and the Oxford American.

2. Mend the claw-shaped hole in my comforter that’s been there for over a year.

3. Walk with Suzanna in the woods while the snow was still falling.

4. Make potato soup.

5. Call my mom–we always talk on snow days.

6. Read the rest of the Lemony Snicket books.

7. Watch “Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood” and “Steel Magnolias,” and maybe even “9 to 5″ for the gazillionth time.

8. Clean the baseboards.

9. Experiment with the hair straightener…again.

10. Paint my toenails.

11. Sun salutations.

12. Lie on the couch with a cat on my stomach and a dog at my feet and stare at the Christmas tree.
13. LAUNDRY!

My mom, a loyal reader, suggested a post related to the five senses, and my sister followed through quite nicely. Here, after days of contemplation, is my contribution.

5 things you like to smell:
1. vegetable soup simmering on the stove
2. cloves
3. cold air
4. Earl Grey tea
5. baby lotion

5 things you like to taste:
1. beer
2. my mom’s cornbread dressing
3. banana popsicles
4. ginger
5. brie

5 things you like to feel:
1. cold sheets against my skin
2.Chapin purring next to me
3. in control
4. the sun on my face
5. tired in a good way

5 things you like to hear:
1. rain
2. “Guilford County Schools will be closed today due to inclement weather”
3. my goddaughter talking in her cute little southern accent
4. the ocean
5. hummingbird wings

5 things you like to see:
1. birds at my feeder
2. snow falling
3. the tents at the Storytelling Festival
4. pictures of my grandfather
5. the first leaves of spring

5 things you don’t like to smell:
1. body odor
2. the obscenely strong cologne my students spray in an attempt to cover their body odor
3. cigarette smoke
4. dog/cat food
5. that awful fake rose scent

5 things you don’t like to taste:
1. hummus
2. anything really cold–hurts my teeth
3. licorice
4. sweet potatoes
5. that fluoride crap dentists use to clean my teeth

5 things you don’t like to feel:
1. paranoid
2. out of control
3. out of the loop/ignored
4. inadequate
5. sticky

5 things you don’t like to hear:
1. Michael Bolton and Aaron Neville songs
2. someone vomiting
3. stories about broken bones
4. the Presid–oops, I mean, someone using really bad grammar
5. snoring

5 things you don’t like to see:
1. an animal that’s been hit by a car
2. someone vomiting (especially on tv and in the movies–there is entirely TOO MUCH vomit in the movies these days!)
3. pubescent teenagers tongue kissing in the hallway outside my classroom
4. ignorance in action
5. indifference

People you want to do this: Whoever feels moved to do so.

Note: I actually thought about my Thursday 13 post yesterday, but I thought yesterday was Wednesday and assured myself I’d have time to do it today, which is in fact FRIDAY, so somewhere out there in the Universe is a missing day!

Another note: I started this post during a lull in my 3rd period class. The kids were working quietly so I decided to take advantage of the time, but then someone needed help so I had to stop writing. Who do they think I am? It is NOW Sunday afternoon. I considered deleting the draft and moving on, but I’m sticking with the “better late than never” philosophy and I’m finishing it anyway.

1. The new Harry Potter movie

2. Why my dad’s mother’s bathroom still smells exactly the same as it did when I was a small child even though she has since moved to a different house in a different state…

3. …and how I suspect it is because she still has the same towels, uses the same soap, and buys the same pink toilet paper

4. The great “horse shoes” war that took place in my family on Thanksgiving Day…

5. …and how my step-mother and my Uncle E. teamed up and beat the crap out of my dad and my Uncle B. six times in a row…

6. …and how my Uncle B. pouted for an hour because he doesn’t like losing, especially to a woman

7. How disappointed I am that it has been in the high 50s/low 60s for several days–it’s WINTER, for Pete’s sake!

8. How I am more obsessed with whether or not I’m going to get Corey than whether or not I am pregnant

9. How Corey’s father isn’t interested in allowing someone else to parent his child even though he is jobless, homeless, and, according to his own mother, most likely selling drugs…

10. …and how his (the father’s) mother and aunt are gathering information to prepare for the next step, which will probably involve the Department of Social Services…

11. …and how it scares the hell out of me to think of going through DSS court proceedings in order to get custody of a child I have never even met…

12. …and how, in spite of #11, I am more frightened of leaving this child in a situation in which he is being neglected and mistreated

13. My mom’s cornbread dressing–hands down, the best dressing on the planet, and how when I ate the last of my leftover allotment for lunch on Wednesday I actually picked up all the crumbs with my index finger and licked them off so I wouldn’t waste any part of the dressing

I’ve been tagged by Calliope, and it’s a good thing, because I sure as hell can’t think of anything witty to write today.

2 names you go by:
Heather
Dee

2 parts of your heritage:
Italian
Scotch-Irish

2 things that scare you:
tornadoes
the unknown

2 things you’re wearing right now:
my favorite hoodie
fleece pants

2 of your favorite bands or musical artists (at the moment):
Joan Baez
Jack Johnson

2 favorite songs (at the moment):
Beg to Differ (Patty Larkin)
Little Black Crow (Divine Maggees)

2 things you want in a relationship (other than real love):
sense of humor
patience with me

2 truths:
Rawhide chews are not just for dogs.
I cannot watch a show, movie, or commercial where there are children without dissolving into tears.

2 physical things that appeal to you (in someone else):
curly hair
hands

2 of your favorite hobbies:
reading
taking pictures

2 things you want really badly:
kids
patience

2 places you want to go on vacation:
back to Italy
somewhere where there’s clear water and white sand

2 things you want to do before you die:
live in London
be a mom

2 ways that you are stereotypically a chick:
my shoe addiction
my insistence on having painted toenails

2 things you are thinking about now:
why on earth I have allowed myself to get so hungry that I have a headache
why I STILL have not yet eaten

2 stores you shop at:
Target
Eddie Bauer

2* people you would like to see take this quiz:
Megan (Torching Time, Talking Rhymes)
Amanda (For the Byrds)
Trista (An Accident of Hope)
Jen (Addition Problems)

Just so you know, 4 is divisible by 2; hence, I have almost followed the numerical rules of this activity. And just so you know, it’s a miracle that I know the mathematical definition of the word “divisible.”

Thirteen Things about hd

1. I have a large, enormous, really big, huge, gigantic crush on Tom Selleck.
2. When I drive by housing developments that have huge brick or stone entrances and archways and gatehouses that are larger than every house I’ve ever lived in, I become apoplectic with rage. I shout, “Pretentious! Pretentious!” and ask aloud, whether there is anyone in the car with me or not, why it is necessary to spend that much money on such superfluous structures when there are hungry children and homeless people living on American soil.
3. I often ask questions aloud while driving alone, and frequently I respond to my own questions, and I hope that passersby will assume I am singing along to the radio or using a hidden hands-free device to talk on my cell phone.
4. I knew in the 10th grade that I wanted to be an English teacher when I grew up.
5. I got stood up on Wednesday night for the first time in my life. My friend Linda entered our monthly dinner date on the wrong day in her PalmPilot (I know this now), and when I called after waiting for 45 minutes she wasn’t home, so I ordered anyway and read my book and sipped tea, and it was all good.
6. I have never seen Gene Wilder’s “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” but the recent Tim Burton interpretation with Johnny Depp is FANTASTIC. When it was over I wanted to push “play” and watch it all over again.
7. I am terrified beyond all reason of tornadoes.
8. My friend Joy recently heard the Dalai Lama speak in Washington, DC. (I realize this isn’t about me, but I think it’s a pretty damn impressive experience to be in the same room with the Dalai Lama, so I felt it deserved recognition.)
9. I can do the full Upward Bow yoga asana, but whenever I’m in the pose all I can think is, “What if my arms give out and I fall to the ground? Will my neck snap? Oh my god, what if it does? I have to get out of this pose right now.”
10. I have small scars on my left eyelid, on my left eyebrow, and on the left side of my nose from a dog bite I got when I was four. I was trying to make the dog sit down by standing in front of it, putting my hands around its neck, and pressing on it’s butt with my hands. It didn’t wanna, so it lunged and bit me in the face. It was old and mostly blind, and I think I screamed, but mostly what I remember about that day is sitting on my screaming mother’s lap watching the washcloth she was holding on my eye turn bright red. (There are A LOT of blood vessels in the face.)
11. I have a larger scar on my right cheek from a Big Wheel accident that occurred when I was around seven. I had been bathed, dressed, coiffed, braided, and polished for professional portraits and was told I could not, under any circumstances, step off of the front porch while my mom showered. My neighbors, all boys, were riding their Big Wheels down the gravel hill in front of our house, and they convinced me that I could take one spin down the hill before my mom finished showering. Spin indeed. I hit a big rock halfway down and my Big Wheel and I parted ways. I finished the ride face first in the gravel. I got spanked, grounded from my beloved Batman Big Wheel, AND I still had to have my picture taken.
12. In a pinch, say, on a really busy morning when I’m running late, if given the choice between wearing a shirt that needs to be ironed and a shirt that has been in the dirty clothes basket, I will wear the dirty shirt. Okay, okay, I would do this on a normal morning. But not if the shirt is REALLY dirty, and not if it is wrinkled, because that would just defeat the purpose of wearing a dirty shirt.
13. I do not frequently wear dirty clothes. Just so you know.

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Thirteen Things about hd I am so thoroughly under the influence of Aleve at this moment that I would not be surprised if the next 12 things I tell you about myself are a)extremely repetitive, b)painfully dull, or c)written in tongues. Sometimes I buy a tub of Duncan Heinz chocolate icing and put it in my refrigerator and eat a spoonful of it once a day until it is all gone, and it is WAY better than ice cream. I am so exhilarated after watching “Commander in Chief” on Tuesday nights that I have trouble falling asleep. I want to live in Mackenzie Allen’s America. Actually, I want to be a part of her staff. I, like my sister, am a geek. Although I am less of a closet geek than she is. My geekiness is more obvious. I think she is way cooler than I am. I have to go back into the house at least once every morning after I have already gotten into and started my car because I have either forgotten something or can’t remember if I turned off the stove. When I get a new e-mail message, Matt Leblanc’s voice says, “Nice lookin’ mail,” and I just got a new message, and the sound of Joey speaking from my computer scared me so badly I almost dropped the laptop on the cat. When I visited my grandparents as a child I always slept on a pallet my grandmother made for me on the floor right next to her side of the bed, and I can still see in my mind the orange and yellow flowered sheets and the brown fleece blanket, and I can feel the cool of the fabric on my feet, and to this day I won’t sleep on a pallet in the floor because no other pallet can ever compare to that one. I would really like a Bailey’s Irish Creme on the rocks, or a Crown and Coke, but since it’s been so long since I drank liquor, and since I am currently on drugs (see #1), I am afraid I would still be drunk tomorrow, and they frown upon that in the public schools. Sometimes if my animals are sleeping very deeply and they look like they are not breathing I will poke them to make sure they are still alive, and they will open their eyes sleepily and look at me like, “Woman, can’t you SEE I’m sleeping here?” Note to self: must overcome this neurosis before birthing a child. I am allergic to cats, but I am not allergic to my cat, and no one knows why. I secretly worry about my mom. Every time a new Harry Potter book is released I re-read the entire series leading up to the newest volume, and every time a new HP movie is released I re-read the book on which the movie is based and re-watch the other movies marathon-style before going to the theater to see it. See, I told you I was a geek. If you picked “b” on #1 you are tonight’s winner. I am painfully dull. Tongues would have been much better.

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Thanks to Trista and Amanda for posting this little game of sevens. Play along! Especially if I asked you to specifically by name, because I’ve had a long week and if you don’t play along I will be forced to hunt you down and assign you a week of detention, to be spent with the members of my obnoxious 4th period class!

7 things I want to do before I die:
1. Be a mom.
2. Own a flat in London.
3. Go to Africa.
4. Write professionally.
5. Live on a lake.
6. Learn to speak Italian.
7. Yoga every single day.

7 things I cannot do:
1. Comprehend the stock market.
2. Grow my hair all the way out before cutting it again. (I feel you, Amanda!)
3. Sleep when it’s light outside.
4. Get to meetings on time.
5. Go through a day without thinking about my grandfather, who died in 1989.
6. Read Charles Dickens.
7. Watch medical shows on TV.

7 things that I’m attracted to:
1. Puppies.
2. Babies.
3. Philanthropy and compassion.
4. Dark features.
5. Intelligence.
6. Visionary souls.
7. Curly hair.

7 things I say often:
1. WTF?
2. Good lord! (Karen Walker style)
3. Excellent.
4. Oh, no. (Phoebe Buffay style)
5. Oh. My. God.
6. Kiss my left butt cheek.
7. Are you freaking kidding me?

7 Celebrity obsessions:
1. Ashley Judd
2. Sharon Stone
3. Karen Carpenter
4. Johnny Cash
5. Joan Baez
6. Ellen
7. Tom Hanks

People I want to do this:
1. Megan
2. Jen
3. Cait
4. Calliope

Yeah, I realize that’s not 7, but some of the people I would ordinarily list have already played!

I recently discovered a new musical artist, A Girl Called Eddy, and I stole, er, borrowed this idea from her website. Check it out (click on the link that says HEROES/REASONS FOR LIVING), and then create your own list if you’d like. If you do, drop me a comment so I can see what tops your list.

heroes and reasons for living

the amazing women whose blood runs through my veins (robyn, norma jean, charity, megan, karen, and mary)~gayle~brie and french baguettes from superfoods on warwick avenue in london~michelob light~chapin’s purr against my chest~earl grey tea~the ellen degeneres show~revolved side angle, downward facing dog, and reclined cobbler~thursdays~suzanna’s happy dance and weird doggy smile~rainy days~letters from joy~diet coke~blogs~songwriters extraordinaire (mary chapin carpenter, tret fure, john mccutcheon, and emily saliers)~voices like honey (karen carpenter, joan baez, annie lennox, and emmylou harris)~geena davis in “commander in chief”~ashley judd and sharon stone~the diesel/rain/bakery smell of london~black and white film~james garner, matthew perry, and tom hanks~mint febreeze~cracker barrell’s blackberry cobbler and hashbrown casserole~9th grade naivete~watching old tv shows with my dad~the bean trees~old pictures of my grandfather~curried chicken tomato vegetable soup~soft wale corduroy~netflix~discovering really great new music~christmas lights gone wild~puppies~baby cows~johnny cash~the smell of autumn~the national storytelling festival~finishing a whole novel in one afternoon~freshly washed sheets~new books~falling asleep on the couch~driving with the windows down~hearing my 19 month-old goddaughter say my name~the first sun-ripened tomato of the summer~thanksgiving dinner~falling snow~eddie bauer jeans~writing

Thanks to Shelli for the cool idea of an image survey. Play along if you haven’t already. It’s fun.

Where I was born.

Where I live now.

My name.

My grandmother’s name.