Random Thoughts at 11:45

If you want to know some details about this weekend, check out http://tinytinbird.blogspot.com or stupidmommy's blog. (See below for link; however, I want to clarify that I wasn't at the table when those shrieks of "35!" were exclaimed... c'mon now, I love the older crowd... they're so vintage.)

Some Points:
* Longshort longhorn: Lyssie and Tex are in town. I want them to move here.

* We hung out with Tex's friends (known on the great world wide web as stupidmommy and stupid daddy) for Alyssa's birthday last night and again tonight. They are smart and stylish and have some pretty fun kids who run around the house while making witty comments. If we ever have that block party and get an inflatable jumping castle, I'm totally going to invite them.

* When someone asked what we've been doing since they've arrived, I said, "hmm, Over Easy Cafe, Early Girl Cafe, Salsa, Bobo for drinks, 12 Bones for barbeque..." and now I can add Dirty Jack's bar onto the list. This person responded, "Sounds like you've been giving them the real Asheville treatment." We did go for a run today. They're going to hike tomorrow, but I can't be bothered with that walking... unless it's to a table for three.

* Did I mention that I want them to move here?

Tired now. Food=good.

"work"

Saint Francis took this picture of our TAASC tents on a fall trip. I love it.

Lyssie and Tex

My college roommate, Alyssa, and her beau, Tex, are coming to town tomorrow evening. Lyssie and I haven't seen each other in about 5 years, but we've been in close touch for the last couple of years; we bonded over break-ups and uncertain career paths. I am so excited.

It's been so long... I hope she recognizes me with my facial tattoos!

In preparation, I've been getting my work done today (and staring out the window).

To me, Lyssie is:
thoughtful
creative and talented
stubborn
funny (although she won't smile at her own jokes)
honest
assertive

Here's some more info:
It is her birthday on Sunday.
She's never been to Asheville.
I've never met Tex.
I still wear the same things I did in college.
She is very hip.

I used to pick fights with her, but I'm afraid that I don't have the same scrappy physique that I had in college... I guess that will top my to do list.

to do:
1. dust off the brass knuckles and do some push ups and sit-ups.
2. wash the sheets
3. buy tuna fish (in case tex is hungry)
4. throw away expired cereals and milk
5. get a map of asheville
6. wrap her birthday present and hide it well.
7. borrow towels from billy's house (you think i'm kidding... i asked if she and tex could bring their own pillows since i only have one. i assured her that we had towels, though...hmm, some beach towels in the basement, i think...)
8. see if bobo is open on sunday
9. get a haircut?
10. pierce my nose again? she missed it the first time around.


I hope it all goes well.

Finding the Lord... Calvert

On my last post, Lyssie suggested that the Lord Calvert might offer clarity plus a little bit more... (see comments, she's one funny gal).


It reminded me of our older TAASC group's caving trip. While we were in the cave, in addition to entertaining me, one of the students found an empty bottle of whiskey. (It wasn't actually the Lord Calvert, but was something like "ol' twelve o'clock.")

In order to practice proper leave-no-trace ethics (and to make jokes about taking swigs from it), this student packed out the bottle and threw it away when we returned to the school.



The night before our trip, the 8th grade class had a dance at that school, and I guess some of the kids were a little crazy. The administration thought they had the answer when they emptied the garbage can in the boys' bathroom and found the empty whiskey bottle.

The class was interrogated one by one. Finally, when our student was called into the principal's office, he said, "OH, that bottle of whiskey?! That wasn't from the dance. It was from our TAASC trip."

The principal never called us about it, but we had a slew of 14 year olds call to inquire about joining TAASC after this confession. Hah.

Essential

I stopped by a health food store to buy some milk on my way home last night. (I went there because it was on my way home instead of driving farther to the regular supermarket... I'm not a milk snob or anything like that. I mean, I buy the organic milk, but they sell it in the regular supermarket, too... it's only 50 cents more.)

Anyhow, on the way to the check-out counter, I stopped to look at the essential oils. I couldn't believe how expensive some were (notably, Frankincense and Myrrh; those wise men weren't cheap). Ignoring the price tags, I was drawn to the descriptions such as uplifting, clarifying, balancing, or inspiring. I smelled many of them.

Regular scents like lemon, lavender, peppermint, sage, and eucalyptus had new meanings with those descriptions. I tried to see if all of my worries, plans, and goals would be laid in their proper places with the influence of these scents. I began to think, "Hey, $24.99 isn't really that much for clarity..." But then I realized that my olfactory system was overloaded; my brain was thinking that these oils really were as essential as the names of concepts that were written on the little glass bottles.

Perhaps I'll buy a healing tincture another day.

At that point, though, I knew that I needed to take my hippie milk and go home.

More Advice

Here are two more pieces of advice. My friend and mentor said this to me tonight. I wrote it on brown paper and put it on my (freshly painted) wall:

I wrote this second one down a few years ago.

This same brown piece of paper has moved

from my old desk in West Asheville

to a notebook (when I was transitioning and without "home")

to Neighbor's cork board (when I lived next door)

to my wall, to my to do list (look on the top of the photo)

to it's current spot on the side of a bookcase.

Advice

I found a card from my mom from December, 2005.

Here's the quote on the front:


Be patient
Toward all that is unsolved in your heart
And try to love
The questions themselves.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Spring Stream of Consciousness List

I'm hurrying out to run in the sunshine before my TAASC meeting, but here are a list of (possibly) related notes for today, March 20th.

• It's the first day of Spring... the Vernal Equinox. I like the way that it sounds and the way that the sun feels today. What a difference from the deluge of yesterday.
• For this, Lyssie is doing (did?) 108 sun salutations. I might follow her suit to go along with the focus for this month. This blog has a great description of paying attention at the change of the seasons. (It also shows her focus on things other than meditation... what a cool complimentary commentary. Good job, Lyss.)
• It is also Maundy Thursday, or the night of the last supper, Judas's betrayal, and the Garden of Gesthemame before the big happenings on Good Friday. I like the idea that Jesus meditated in the garden before Friday... When I was younger, I was perplexed at the name, "Good Friday" going along with the day of crucifixion. I always thought it should be "Bad Friday." I'd say with a little Jersey accent, "Hey, thorns in the head and nails in the hands are good?"
• Also, I never wanted to recite the 23rd Psalm, "The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want..." because I thought it was sacreligious. (My logic was that it'd be blasphomy to say that you "shall not want" God....). Wikipedia has much on the subject of this psalm, including, "The King James version of the psalm is used as the lyrics of Megadeth's "Shadow of Deth" from their album The System Has Failed."
• Brain would be glad to hear of this connection between the King James version and Megadeth, I think. In college, he saw a sign on the side of the road that said, "Read the King James version or DIE."
• One of my littlest TAASC kids is going to Florida for Spring Break to "live it up on the beach!"
• This was on the Writer's Almanac today: "Emily Dickinson said, 'A little Madness in the Spring / Is wholesome even for the King.'" I don't think she was talking about basketball.

Okay, I'm off to enjoy the day. Hope your daffodils and hyacinths are getting ready for Easter.

Scallywags and Mousey

During a hike with TAASC this weekend, the boys were pretending to be Civil War soldiers (some from the North, some South) while the girls were talking about their favorite foods and vacations. It wasn't uncommon to hear, "And then, if your musket is broken, you can just use a bayonet!" (while they "shot" sticks and ran up the trail) at the same time as, "We were playing hide and go seek, and this 2 year old who I was hiding with in the closet kept saying, 'This dress is pretty and yellow... this dress has puffy sleeves...' I thought she was going to give away our spot!"

At one point, I had A on one side saying, "KD, you know all the slang names for Union and Confederate soldiers?" while KK was on the other side saying, "Well, of all of us in the house, I take care of the animals the most.. like our mice."

This conversation was happening at the same time:

"Johnny Reb, Billy Yank..."

"We had several mice to begin with. And they aren't snake food... these mice have brown or black spots or colors and don't have red eyes..."

"Little coot. Rebs-- that's short for rebels..."

"And then one had fatty tumors, but you need to change the water..."

"Yanks or yankees..."

"So then the other one had babies and we gave them to the pet store..."

"Sesch... that's because they were secessionists. I like that name most of all of 'em..."

"But I wash our dog and you need to hold the mice for at least 15 minutes a day, especially because all of their friends died..."

"Blue Coats...Graycoats... Blue Belly...""

"And then I brought all these toys into Mousey's cage to keep her company. And we had to get a glass water bottle from a special company..."

Sometimes my little kids interrupt ongoing discussions with their own random thoughts. A and KK didn't seem to notice that there's an entire other conversation going on while they are talking.

In fact, I was able to ask questions to each of them while the other one hiked next to me and continued to talk about their subject. Many times a strong, "Really?!" would cover both conversations, but I found myself saying, "How come those mice don't live so long?" followed immediately by, "Wow, A. How did you learn about all of these names?"

Strangely, around the same time that A ran up the trail to attack some of the Rebs, KK hung back and started to talk with someone else. After the wave of words, I found myself hiking alone with the fake valley girl accents and fake musket fire floating in the distance.

Paranoia

Roomie and I were looking at the new house across the street the other day and she said something about stucco. I had a flashback to when I was about 6 or 7 years old and my brother was 14 or 15. It was the late 1980s and in addition to that Life commercial (in which the kid says, "He likes it! Mikey likes it!"), there was a local commercial on for some stucco remodeling company* which showed the before and after shots of tutor houses, town houses, and industrial buildings.

Whenever this commercial would come on, my brother would say, "Hey, that's owned by the mob. Because you saw it, they're gonna come after you..." I think the lasting effect of these words still show today. *I totally remember the name of the company, but didn't type it for my innate fear of "knowing too much."

Around this same time period, he'd also start the car for my mom on winter mornings before school. Sometimes I'd go out to the car with him before my mom was out there. He'd say, "If I push this, the car will blow up." (It was the cigarette lighter.) He'd fake it a couple of times and then push... I always waited to hear if that "pop" of the lighter would really be "kaboom" of the car.

Teacher's Pet

I've been reading about the achievement gap and hate crime statistics today for NCOBS Unity grant writing. These documents are fascinating and horrible (not horribly written, but have horrible facts).

Before doing this work, I rode my bike to the grocery store, cleaned the house, did laundry, packed for my TAASC trip, made brownies and banana bread... you could call it procrastinating, but I call it useful. When I actually did start this work, I worked for a long stretch without checking my email or (ahem) writing this blog. This is actually my reward for working for a few hours.

I never had this issue in college and don't have this issue while doing my TAASC work or economics homework. I think the TAASC focus is due to my "assignments" being pretty spread out and mildly entertaining. College focus (both back in the day and this econ class now)-- who knows. I think that part of it was learning the ideas and enjoying the banter in class. I think that part of it was getting good grades and knowing the material.

Now, we have Development meetings and I have grants and case statements that I need to write, but I don't really get a grade. I guess I'll have a performance review, but it's not really the same as turning in a grant and having a big star with "EXCELLENT. 100%" written on the top. I guess that if we get grant money that it'd be like a gold star...

Maybe I'll write a note to the Development Director and say, "Dear Ms. Director, If you could give me a numeric grade for each grant I do and give me an assignment sheet-- you can call it syllabus-- my productivity will go up tenfold. I can find you a statistic about that, if you'd like. Could I get extra credit for it?"

A Primitive Quest

Several years ago, I was working for a primitive skills therapeutic program in Arizona and dating someone who is creative, fun, and passionate about primitive skills. I met him as "Nature Dave" and it later became "Cave Dave" when he lived in a cave in a canyon out west.



I'll never forget when I showed my family a Tom Brown book with a picture of a guy in a loincloth walking quietly to stalk some deer or rabbit or something. It showed how you can stalk animals. My boyfriend came with me to a potluck for Paterson Habitat for Humanity, and everyone seemed intrigued with him. Even years later, I couldn't walk into the Habitat office without someone laughingly asking (imagine strong New Jersey accent here), "So kd, how's your stalker?" (or, with the accent, staw ka)

While with this fella, I learned how to make a fire with a bowdrill, carve spoons and things with my knife, tan a deer hide, build shelter, and sit and observe... that focus that I'm studying this month, actually. I also lived in a cave for a little while when we weren't working on the trail. At times we'd stay in town with Nature Dave's best friend, but we were mostly on our own in the cave in the mountains. The cave was great, and I preferred the tall ceilings of our isolated "home" to the busy life in the city.

Because we didn't have a homebase in town that was our own, I craved a comfortable place to drink coffee, read The New York Times, and write. Luckily, in this stripmall heaven in Arizona, a Starbucks was a just a quick stalk up from the primitive skills organization's office. (We didn't really walk up the street like we were stalking... that would have been weird.)

I loved this place with its comfortable chairs, abundance, people watching, and, as I mentioned before, The New York Times (which probably cost $5 or something ridiculous). As much as I loved being minimalistic in nature at "work" and in the cave, my feeling in this Starbucks was my link to the quick, sarcastic, culture of my East Coast life. Nature Dave couldn't get over all of the names of the drinks; he thought it was funny and would always order some herbal tea while I'd go for a strong expresso drink.

.............................

Nature Dave emailed me after years of being out of touch. He has been working for a survival school, travelling all over western deserts (probably with just a knife and cup), and learning how to sail in California. He probably is sinewy, tan, dusty, and as handsome and young looking as any of the metrosexual friends that I hang out with in Asheville. (Although he probably doesn't dress as well as they do. No offense, Dave, your buckskins are probably "hip," too.) He wrote about a recent quest lately and I wanted to share his email. I think it's a noble quest. He calls it a "curse."

Here are his words:

At one point in my life I met a woman of infinite joy and comfort with the world. Her smile radiated and all who met her were taken to smile in her light. There was one subtle flaw with this person. One curse that was equally as infectious as her smile. This curse caught and spread to both my heart and soul. To this day no matter where I may go... whether I sail the reaches of San Fransico Bay or walk the deserts of Utah, I will always walk this earth in search of a Starbucks. Curses!

I hope he's getting a skinny double mocha latte no whip.

Early Morning Dream

In between hitting snooze and actually getting out of bed this morning I had this dream:


10-20 of my closest friends are sleeping in a big bed (like the grandparents in Willy Wonka). I am on the end and one of my favorite people from Outward Bound is right next to me. He turns to me and says, "Hey. Let's make-out."
(For the record: I am not "making out" in any way with this person in real life...)

I whisper, "No."

He asks, "Why not?"

I say, "Follow me to the water fountain."
(There seemed to be a school water fountain in the hall.)

He does, and I say to him, "Two words."
The two words happen to be the first and last name of another friend of ours.

Before he responds, everyone from the bed is standing with us in a circle. Many of the folks are from Outward Bound, so I'm not surprised that they beamed over to us and made that shape.
(I could almost hear Roomie saying, "Circle up, everyone." )

As we are standing there, a huge hawk appears in the middle. It is floating with its wings out, but not flapping its wings. I am amazed. Everyone else seems nonchalant about it. The hawk starts talking about its plume around its head and how it helps it float midair.



After that, I woke up.

This isn't the first time that this animal has appeared to me. What does it mean?

New Jersey Cowgirl

My nickname at Outward Bound is Cowgirl. There's not really a great story behind it; I was basically wearing a cowboy hat during new staff training and said that with my students I wanted to be like an observant cowgirl... sitting by the fire and listening. I don't know if I've been successful at that demeanor with my students, but I like the idea and sometimes go the entire course as "Cowgirl."

Someone suggested this elaborate story about escaping from Texas and hitching a ride in a pickup truck, but I'm from New Jersey and like lattes.

Anyhow, when I got home last night I was famished. While I waited for my lentil soup to heat on the stove, I rummaged through the refrigerator and found some leeks, beer, cheese, carrots, and condiments. I decided on carrots and looked at my salad dressing selection.

I had to laugh when, among the hippie/yuppie sea vegetable and balsamic vinagers, I found a family-size container of Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing. I thought, "You know you're in the South when..." I have no idea how it got there because Roomie, Tucker and I definitely didn't buy it. (Even though I am being snobby about it now, I have to admit that I saddled that carrot up with some ranch and it was quite tasty. Remember, though, I was famished.)

Lyssie pointed out that there are endless possibilities to link the Ranch into my schtick. As in, "Wow, Cowgirl, what a Ranch you have!"

"I don't know how it was passed to me, but for now, I'm the prioprietor of this ranch..."

Lists

Alyssa told me about this NaBloPoMo event in which bloggers post everyday of March. The theme is lists. I haven't posted any lists, but they are fully present in my life. After seeing Speed's whiteboard, I tried to put up my own so that my notebooks full of "to-do's" would be in my face:






My lists are separated into categories (NCOBS, TAASC, ECON, Daily, Personal, Monthly Theme, Future...) in each section of the board. Unlike Speed's nice handwriting on a new whiteboard, I have messy and small writing on a folded up lamenated piece of posterboard. It is the board that I used to bring into the field for Outward Bound lessons, so it doesn't really erase anymore. When in the field, I'd have to use methonol fuel to wipe it off. Now, I have to scrub as hard as I can with a wet sponge. Luckily, many of my tasks repeat each week, so I don't need to erase it.





March is the month of focus.

Movie Time

Scene: TAASC bus after a blustery and snowy hike. Frozen fingers. Glad to be sitting in shelter of bus. Starting to drive to town to the original TAASC club's climbing gym where we were going to spend the night.

Players: KD, TAASC members (including "J" a funny, tall, and creative boy who is in high school)

KD: Hey, we can get a movie to watch tonight. They have a VCR!

(Without hesitation)
J: Ooooh, can we get The Notebook?

I was the only one who laughed. But I laughed hard.

*By the way, we watched Ace Ventura, Pet Detective.

good and bad in the neighborhood

It was warm and clear yesterday. As a reward for working all morning, I decided I could go for a long run before I had TAASC in the afternoon. I hurried home, ate some carrots and toast, and saw Neighbor in the driveway.

We were talking when we saw Elderly Neighbor on the other side walking down the street with a home health aide. I introduced myself to Elderly Neighbor, and Neighbor and I heard about how she needs someone to walk with her because she has been falling lately. We also heard about how she only likes to eat honeybuns. Elderly Neighbor asked me to come up to her house and meet her husband who is ill. I didn't stay long, but managed to meet her cat (who has 6 toes like a Hemingway cat), dog (a little black yappy dog named Tammy), and husband (who didn't talk much to us as he watched baseball on tv). Elderly Neighbor told me about all of her dogs in the past and how she, her husband, and little Tammy all enjoy chewing tobacco. I don't know if the dog gets into their stash (as it wanted to get into the circus peanuts candy) or what...

I excused myself and decided that I'd still go for a run, even though it would be shorter. As I listened to This American Life on my headphones and made my way to a neighborhood I love, I noticed a newish Suburban slowly passing me. The driver, a 40-50 year old thin white guy with glasses and spiky hair, leaned out his open window and stared at me. I made eye contact, shot a nasty look, and ignored him as I continued to run. Creep, I thought. I was running down one road that had a greenway in between another road. At the end, there's an option to go up into a more secluded neighborhood. Because of the time and my quick interaction with that driver, I decided to make a U-turn and run the road on the other side of the greenway (back to a busier area). As I turned that corner, I saw that the guy had looped around the greenway and the Suburban was coming towards me from the other direction. I considered it strange, but thought he was looking for a house or something.

I kept running and turned onto the busier street past a park (where there were many people) and noticed that the Suburban was again behind me. Even though there were people all around, I felt my adreneline rising. I memorized his license plate (but stupidly didn't write it down!). I kept running and tried to ignore him.

Next traffic light: Suburban right next to me. Several turns later: Suburban at the stop sign just sitting there. I ran towards another park, which had a parking lot, and the Suburban passed me and pulled into a spot facing the road I was on. I thought about asking some men who were moving furniture across from the park for help, but decided to keep going. I wanted to get home, but I didn't want this man to see where I lived.

I was fully freaked out by this point. I knew that Neighbor was home.

As the creepy guy was stuck at a traffic light, I bolted across the street and sprinted home. I got to Neighbor's house and hid behind a tree to get my key out. Neighbor came out laughing, and asked, "What are you doing?" I asked if I could come in.

I was frazzled and angry that I had to shorten my run because of this harassment. I explained what happened and drank some water. As Neighbor asked what the car looked like, I saw the Suburban drive down our street.

Before I went home, Neighbor and I spoke with the woman who lives across the street. I felt on edge each time a car passed and she suggested that if necessary, I should run near her gate so her big dogs would bark (adding, "Don't get too close yourself, though, because they'll bite you.").

We compared stories from other points in our lives when sketchy men have threatened us. I am pissed that I don't feel comfortable doing normal things like camping by myself or running on certain trails alone or at a certain time of day. A good friend suggested always bringing my cellphone, especially if I'm not with a friend or Tucker. He said I should just wave it in the air and say, "I'll call 911, you scumbag."

Other friends, males in particular, have said that in some situations (like the one in which a gas station attendent leaned in and tried to kiss my cheek after pumping gas... what?! who does that?), I need to say forcefully, "You are in my personal space and I need to ask you to step back!" I suppose.

I suppose that making a scene is okay, but in a way, I don't want to instigate creepy people. In that gas station situation, I was so shocked that I just pushed him away and left. In the recent Suburban situation, I don't know if I should have gone to those moving men, if I should have screamed, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" or should have just run to Neighbor.

I don't like to be angry and anxious.

Yellows for the Grays.

You know, the bunny

Roomie was talking with her mom, Virgil, on the phone yesterday about going "home" to visit. At one point, Virgil must have suggested that Roomie come home for Easter.

Roomie said, "When's Easter?"

But her mom heard, "What's Easter?" and responded, "What's Easter?! Willy Wompum, our daughter just asked, 'What's Easter?'"

(Virgil and Willy Wompum aren't the names on their mailbox or Social Security checks, but it's what they call each other... for real.)

Over her mom's yelling to Willy Wompum, Roomie clarified, "I asked, 'when's Easter?' Not, 'What's Easter?'" We laughed as her mom yelled and probably said something like, "Didn't I raise you? Didn't you go to Catholic school?"

After getting off the phone, Roomie wished she had let her mom explain what Easter was. She guessed it would have sounded like this, "You know, it's when we go to PERKINS. PERKINS, honey. With Uncle Pokey and Aunt Zelda. PERKINS!"

Roomie said that while her parents didn't go to church on Easter, they brought the family-- including Aunt Zelda and Uncle Pokey (real names, by the way...)-- to this chain restaurant bakery and cafe. Glory be to the risen... biscuit?

March

The theme for March is FOCUS. What does this mean to you? Any ideas about experiments to explore this topic?

Roomie and I are doing a macrobiotic cleanse to refocus our bodies and minds this week. (That sounds like we are from Asheville, eh?) Maybe I'm writing that because I've been drinking so much miso.

I'm setting parameters for myself for this month to not "multi-task" as much. Perhaps not check my email every 15 minutes?

There are ways to think about this spiritually as well as within the workplace and future goals.

If you have ideas, please let me know.