vernal equinox

For some reason, it just doesn't seem right that the first day of spring should coincide with the 6th anniversary of the Iraq War. But that's how it is. Perhaps that's why, after so many days of sunshine, today finally feels like rain.

seven random shingly things

1. I always thought shingles was an old-lady disease, on account of the fact that the only person I ever knew who had it was my grandmother. Turns out LOTS of people I know have had it! And they're not old.

2. Because I have shingles, chemo has been postponed AGAIN!

3. Tomorrow should have been my last round, number 12, if all had gone as planned. But because of all the delays (neuropathy, liver functions, low WBC, and now shingles) I still have three left. That's six more weeks.

4. They hurt. Kind of like having a knife jabbed into your back.

5. I'm banned from hot springs and swimming pools, two of my most favorite places.

6. I don't really even care anymore about chemo being postponed, or not being able to soak at Mt. Princeton. I'm not sure if that means I'm less depressed, or more depressed.

7. I am learning to live beyond "should have" and "as planned".

my first rejection email

Hi, Sue.

Thank you for sending your work, which I really did enjoy reading.

Because the volume of work received (over 1,000 poems) far exceeds the
space available in the Poetry While You Wait book, I have had to make
difficult decisions regarding which poems among so many fine ones to
include.

I am sorry to say that we will not be able to include your work.

Please do, though, keep writing and supporting poetry in our community.

Sincerely,

Aaron Anstett

On the suburban street where I grew up in the 70's, there were many kids. We played together in the park that was situated in the middle of our neighborhood. For some reason, it had 100 foot Douglas Fir trees, and I realize now that the whole area must have been covered with a forest, before they cut the trees down to build our houses and streets.

But this was not meant to be a post about my park, amazing though it was. It was supposed to be about friendship.

Picture me, age 10. Scrawny body, long blond hair, hand-me-downs. 1977. Purple bike with banana seat and big handlebars. Quiet suburban neighborhood, born into existence the same year as me.

At the far end of 39th Avenue was my friend Holly's house. Around the corner and down a few houses was my friend Lynn's house. My house was pretty much equidistant from both of them.

I was friends with Lynn. I was friends with Holly. Lynn and Holly were not friends.

Or they tried to be, sometimes, if we all happened to be together for some reason. But those moments I remember as awkward, and filled with meanness. I could not figure out how, when they were both my friends, they couldn't manage to be friends themselves. So for the most part, I kept these two friendships separate. It was as if there were two circles, and I was the point where they intersected. My house was the literal and figurative center.

Fast forward to high school, with its cliques and cliches. I was lucky enough to have a "best friend" at this time, but beyond that, I never had a group of friends that I hung out with exclusively. I had "volleyball friends", but didn't do much with them outside of practice, bus rides, and games. We might hang out together during the season, but after it was over, not so much. I had "waver friends", but didn't do much with them outside of dancing in clubs and smoking clove cigarettes and discussing music. There were the popular kids, of course, and though I was certainly never ostracized, and was sometimes even included in party invitations, I was never truly a part of them (as evidenced by the fact that I was never voted onto Prom Court!)

I had friends who were jocks, preps, punks, waver, and outcasts. (I loved the outcasts best.)

I seemed to exist on the edge of many circles.

I was the place where several circles intersected.

This is what I have been thinking about lately. Especially tonight, after hosting my son's 10th birthday party earlier today, and seeing children and adults from several different "circles" in my present life, all together in one place.

For several years, when I first moved to Colorado, and during the first few years of my sons' lives, I didn't really have any friends at all. I had an infant, a toddler, a husband, and a mother-in-law, and that was about it. I look back on those days and wonder how I ever managed. Then I met Sara at my new teaching job (Hi Sara!), and knew instantly that I wanted to be her friend. Now, eight years later, I think I would call her my "best friend".

But just like with my best friend in high school, Sara and I don't necessarily have the same friends.

In my present life, I have managed to surround myself with several circles of friends. I value them all. Each circle. Each individual. Each one brings something unique and special into my life. Some are for dancing. Some are for crying. Some are for sharing soup. Some are for spiritual kinship. Some are for creative inspiration. Some are for fun. Some are for shared interests. Some are for the neighborhood. Some are for art. Some are for the intellect. Some just are. And of course, these are not exclusive categories!

And I never tire of meeting new people, and getting to know them, and expanding the circle, or creating a new one. Most of all, I enjoy bringing the circles together. They overlap in all kinds of places, not just me.

But sometimes I wonder if it isn't all too much. Sometimes I see myself on the edge of circles, and not really a part of any of them. At these times, I long for the relationships you read about in books, you know, the four women that have been friends forever and ever........

But then I look back on my past, and I realize: I am not that person, the one who has the same friends forever and ever. I live within and among many. It's just who I am.

Today, I observed this same phenomenon with my son. At the party this afternoon, there were his old friends, his school friends, his Dungeons and Dragons friends, his neighborhood friends. Like mine, some of these overlap in several places, but others are completely separate, joined only together by HIM.

I hope he can see himself, not on the edge of many circles, but as the center of them all.

bye-bye nine!

I'm ashamed to admit that my first thought upon opening my eyes this morning and reentering the world of light and life was not, "Hey, it's my son's tenth birthday!!!" but rather it was, "Oh, chemo."

I lay there for a short while. After I had slowly crawled out of my own ego, John and I walked downstairs and sang Grant awake.

Later, after taking the boys to school, Brandy drove me to chemo. It was, thankfully, uneventful. Grandma came over for Chinese food and cake. At the end of the night, Grant popped balloon number nine. He's no longer nine. I'm no longer stuck at nine. These two events, his birthday and my chemo, will be inextricably linked in my memory for as long as I live.

it's all about the process

Too often, I don't think I give myself enough credit for my creativity. I see it so readily in others, perhaps because I tend to surround myself with so many talented and creative people.

Here, though, is an example of what I can do (with a little help from my friends and family) when I put my mind to it. It's taken roughly two years, but the tile mosaic in my bathroom is FINISHED!

The shell angel(above) is a tribute to my mother, who, I believe, really did see angels once.



The sun was the first design to go in (of course!). Followed shortly by the volcano that Bennett helped to create.





Thanks to Sara, who assisted me with this lupine. But mostly she helped me get over my self-doubt and sluggish mentality. To the right of the lupine, you will see pieces from my mother's broken hotplate from Alaska, with Mt. McKinley in the center.






Into this blue-green montage went the pieces of a small bowl I broke. It was one of my husband's favorites, a piece of Russian Gardner porcelain passed down from his parents. I still feel horrible about it. (Advice: never, ever, get a stone kitchen floor! Everything breaks instantly when it hits.) Also some cool polished glass found in the creek bed behind our park.



"Mad-Eye Moody", named by Grant who assisted with this design, is made from some pieces I bought last summer from a local guy. I wish I knew his name so I could give him credit. He makes tiles and magnets and jewelry and barrettes from plastic he finds in the streets and paints with fingernail polish. Is that cool or what? If you look closely, he has a wand in his hand.
And the moon, of course.





Finally, in the corner, a trilobite and fish fossil, surrounded by some leftover tiles given to me by Chris Alvarez. They gave me the inspiration I needed to finally finish it off.






So now it's finished!





Well... almost. I still need to decide whether to use white or gray grout. Then I need to grout it. Then I need to clean up after myself. Then we need to get a shower curtain (clear, of course). Then perhaps, we'll actually be able to shower in it! Could take another year or so. Don't hold your breath.

confession

I love my blog far more than I love Facebook. After I spend some time on Facebook, I come back here, and issue a little sigh of relief. It's peaceful and quiet here. And mine.

navasana

there's always
movement
the leaving and the returning
through doors
without locks
never enough kisses
welcome....farewell...come home....see you soon...goodbye.....

boat. stop. moment.





(photos by Kat Tudor)

morning haiku

mascara attempt
not one eyelash remaining
close the lid and cry

penalty

The most common question asked by well-meaning friends is, "How much longer?" or sometimes it's, "When are you going to be done?" They mean treatment, of course, but my brain always turns to the long haul, the forever, because you're never done fighting, once you have cancer.



As for the treatment, I am sick and tired of not knowing the answer to those questions. There are too many uncontrollable variables. This time, it was my liver. Yesterday, it threw me a "delay of game" penalty. I arrived at oncology with my sister-in-law Gwen (all the way from Ithaca, NY), mentally prepared and with a bag full of diversions. I was ready for round number nine, only to be told that my chemotherapy appointment had been canceled, and.... "Didn't anyone call you?"

No! They didn't!

My brother and family are visiting from New York! It's a holiday! Everyone else is skiing! I could have gone too! Why didn't anyone call me Friday to tell me my lab results!? (After I had calmed down a bit, I apologized to all the other chemo patients for my outburst, which I'm sure contained many a swear word.)

So Gwen and I headed up to Monarch on a bluebird day to join my brother, my husband, my niece, and my sons, for a day (half-day by the time we arrived) of skiing and then relaxing at Mt. Princeton Hot Springs. Was it better than sitting in the chemo chair all day? In the words of my 9-going-on-13-year-old son, "Well, duh!"

But would I rather have been in the chair with blood poison number nine?

"Well, duh!"

i wish i knew more about opera

Just click the little triangle, take a thank-god-it's-nearing-the-end-of-winter-but-isn't-the-white-still-beautiful deep breath, and close your eyes for about as much time as it would take you to empty the dishwasher and wipe down the counters.

Happy Valentine's Day. I love you.

on the origin of inspiration

I'm not sure if it's because I'm feeling overwhelmed by the passage of time, or if I'm just damn lazy, but I feel like reposting this picture and quotes, from two years ago today. If you know my husband, you will know that he is never at a loss for words when it comes to the topic of Evolution. It is his pet. His purpose. His motivating force. His life's work in his Biology classes at Pine Creek High School. Honestly, I get tired of hearing about it, but I respect him for the passion and the knowledge he brings to his profession. If I had had a science teacher like him when I was in high school, I very well might have enjoyed it. So here's to Charles Darwin, and here's to John Spengler, and here's to a new administration, with all its ugly imperfectness, that at least understands the importance of science.

"Doing what little one can to increase the general stock of knowledge is as respectable an object of life, as one can in any likelihood pursue."

HAPPY BDAY MR. DARWIN!


"Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science."

as frank rich says.........

there's a reason Slumdog Millionaire has become America's movie of the year:

Slumdogs Unite!

keebler elves = stoners

not just another issue

I have been informed and educated by my friend Brandy about the CPSIA, and wanted to pass along some information to you. She makes the most adorable hand-embroidered magical little people, with all natural materials, while sitting at her kitchen table. Seriously, your heart smiles just to hold them in the palm of your hand!

Here's the problem. I think I'll just let her explain it in her own words:

"Due to the terrible importing of lead-laden children's products that was brought to the public's attention in 2007, the CPSIA is trying to mandate testing on all children's products that would be sold here in the United States. This is good, but not good enough, because this law affects ALL children's products, including all handmade items, like the toys I make. Each component will cost $70 to be tested for lead and since my Gnomes have 6 components (wool felt, glue, cotton thread, linen thread, wood base and carded wool…) that comes to $420. Add in the additional $350 per component for phthalates testing and I would have to add $2100. Making my once $18 gnome a whopping $2565.

And really, this affects everyone who knows anyone with children under the age of twelve, and that includes those of you who are aunts, uncles, teachers, friends, grandparents, and God parents alike."

At the very least, read a bit about the Handmade Toy Alliance, pass along the word, and sign the petition.

{And just so you know, I really didn't write this to promote Brandy's little creations, but of course, you're always welcome to let her know you'd like a little gnome in your life! :-)}



"If this law had been applied to the food industry, every farmers market in the country would be forced to close while Kraft and Dole prospered." (from the Handmade Toy Alliance website)

it's about time

It makes me feel a bit more hopeful about our future when I read articles like this one.

henna!

all things considered

They may simply look like bottles and pills to you, but to me, they have become a life-saving ritual.

Every morning and evening, the same. Swallow 21 pills. (For those of you watching the numbers, that's 42 a day, my age... again) Then there's the flaxseed-grinding, the smoothie-blending, the green-drinking, and the tincture-swilling.

The natural-colored herbal gel caps are from my neighborhood witch. The unnatural-colored yellow pills are from my oncologist. I used to house them in different places in my kitchen, until I realized that they all belonged together.
What's inside all those gel caps, you ask? Here's a sampling of some of their exotic and everyday ingredients:

Manchurian spikenard
Turmeric
Quercetin
Luo han gou
Indian Gooseberry
Boron
Vanadium
Goat weed
Vitamin B6
Royal jelly
Korean ginseng
Suma
Rosemary
Ashwagandha
Black pepper
Cordyceps mushroom
Eleuthero root and leaf
Japanese Knotweed
Licorice
Holy Basil
Bromelain
Creatnine
Chromium

In addition to swallowing all those pills, Heide also has me drinking a green concoction composed of brussel sprouts and kale and cabbage and spinach. It's lemon-lime flavored. Really. The smoothie protein powder she gives me contains (gasp!) colostrum! (It's from cows, not humans, of course, but still... weird.)

The yellow ones you see are prescribed Potassium and Protonix. And then there are the toughest and cruelest of them all, the ones you can't see here, the chemo drugs: Adriamycin, Cytoxin, Taxol.

The way I look at it, I've got to use everything under the sun available to me.

As a teacher, I've drawn from diverse sources: ITIP, Kagan, Love and Logic.

But those are all systems; it's the people, of course, that have had the most influence on who I am as a teacher.

I have had many guiding forces, from my nazi-like advisor when I was a student teacher, to my paternal first grade teacher, and many more in between. Mrs. Phelps (advisor) taught me how to direct instruct and maintain discipline, and kept her kids loving her and learning much with a strange but effective mix of toughness and love. Mostly, she demonstrated the self-sacrifice and hard work it takes to make sure every single kid "gets it". Mr. Witham (first grade teacher) allowed me to call him "daddy" (my parents were recently divorced), told fractured fairy tales from his imagination before they were popular in books, and made everyone feel safe. I can't remember a word of criticism ever leaving his lips. (My mother sent me his obituary when I was 24 and in my first year of teaching. When I read that he had died of AIDS, I cried like a baby).

I believe what makes me such a great teacher (humble, too, aren't I?) is that I draw upon a variety of teaching techniques and influences, as long as they feel mostly true to me. If it works, use it! We get so bogged down in the "right way" of teaching or parenting or medicating that we lose sight of the ultimate goal. And as every parent knows..... every child is different. As every doctor knows.... every patient is different. What works for one might not necessarily works for another.

I guess that's why I instinctively mistrust parenting experts, politicians, priests and educational consultants (yes, especially them..... and their publishing companies). They are only selling one product, it's the answer, and you have to believe in it. Period.

I don't buy it. And so my arsenal of healing includes it all. Chemo, pills, tinctures, MRI's, EKG's, plants from around the world, yoga, flaxseed, and $5,000 shots of Neulasta.

All things considered, the most important factor, I suppose, just like in teaching, is the people. That'd be you. Thanks for being a part of my treatment plan!

not just another wordle

Wanna see it bigger? HERE!

It's simply a word cloud of the most used words from my blog, I'm guessing from 2009 only. The words that are used most often are larger than the rest, excluding ordinary words like the, A, etc....

You can make one too!

I just gotta stop using the word just so much, though, but I just don't know how. Hmmm... maybe if I just became more aware of it, and every time I wrote just, I could just try and find a better word. I think it just might work!

there's a tax on everything these days!

Even Liberty......

I think it's called The Patriot Act.

Freedom ain't free, ya know!

(Sorry for the poor photo quality; click on it for a better view. I whipped out my cell phone while waiting to make a left hand turn, and snapped this one. I've been trying to capture it for weeks, ever since the Liberty Tax Service store started its annual charade on Uintah.)