Did you see that The Edge didn’t see the edge? Oh, man. He is okay, though. I hope those guys stay all in one piece!
In less than a week I’m heading to Phoenix to spend the weekend with my best friend from high school. We haven’t seen each other in something like a million years. Okay, that’s a lie. Maybe 15 years. Unbelievable. I can’t wait! I am looking forward to long walks on the beach and —- wait, what? I meant to say: Long leisurely hours of lounging by the pool, talking, catching up, laughing, lazy brunching, indulging in spa treatments, a little sight seeing……. AND, THEN we are going to see U2 in concert, two nights in a row!
So…I’m trying to be in the moment and yet, not. Campus is in a quiet lull these days. Students and faculty are present in the partial percentiles. It’s a pause, before the students return. I love my job. (Have I mentioned that I love my job? Mostly, my job is lovable. Not a dream job… but totally okay, and lovable, like an adorable screech owl.)
Spring semester scheduling has started (it’s like getting paid to play Tetris) and it’s a weird thing you know, living in the future. Seems almost too easy to think ahead. Midmorning, I look forward to the lunch hour. Late afternoon, I can’t wait for the weekend. I look forward to the upcoming opening of a new exhibit at the art museum. My mind swirls around what I’ll do and where I might go when take my vacation in the latter part of July. And, I can’t wait to go on a weekend trip to visit an old friend!
Am I a sucker for the thrill of anticipation?
Aren’t there poems a-plenty about anticipation?
I mean, it’s hard to stay in the moment sometimes, when there are fun plans ahead!
Seriously. Am really expected to get any work done at all?
So much for the tick bite theory. This week I boosted my vitamin consumption in the form of delicious fruit and veggies and added some good vitamins for kicks.
I got the spring back in my step! The hop back in my skip!
Amazing what a little change in diet can do.
The fruits and veggies are more fun with the bullet. The Bullet blender thing. Yes. I bought a bullet blender. I have no regrets.
Not that I think all the drinks are pretty, though. When you add stuff like spinach or kale…. they look awful, really. No – they look disgusting!
Mmm… Delicious? Not exactly. At least not this concoction. Well, it tastes better than it looks, mostly. I don’t recommend this for all “meals” because, how boring! But it’s handy and nutritious for quick out the door in the mornings solutions. And the appearance, really…. I feel like I need to apologize for placing this image before your eyes.
The fruity ones are much prettier, like, My Little Pony pretty.
The point is, I’m feeling so much better, from whatever had me in slow-motion before this week.
Maybe it was the weather.
I’m about to go to lunch. It’s a good day to go sit on a park bench.
Blogging. Is blogging still a thing?
I don’t know how many times I think, “Oh, I should write about this… or that… or whatever.” And then I look at my computer screen when I get home from work, after looking at a computer screen all day at work, and I lose all my enthusiasm to sit in front of a computer screen for one more minute of my life. Even though I could share so many fun and sad and boring and exciting things with you.
How’s it going?
I’m alright. I got a tick bite on my butt a couple of weeks ago, and I think I’m going to have to go to the doctor’s office this afternoon so they can check (run tests) to see if the tick bite has had anything to do with my fatigue, headaches, and weird muscle weakness I’ve had since the bite. I have dismissed those symptoms and chalked them up to The Weather Changes, The Hormones, and/or Maybe I’ve Caught Another Virus Or Something.
But, I just haven’t gotten the spring back in my step, you know. Not feeling my usual hop skip and jumpy self.
Anyhoo. I’ve been doing some fun things though, too, while ignoring/dismissing the malaise-y feelings, and putting my big girl panties on.
I’ve gone to two plays in two weeks. First, the High School’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. Oh, my goodness. I was blown away by the talent and professionalism. The singing. The costumes. The set design. The believable characters even though the play is so bizarre and creepy and kinda dark. They were even able to use the actual for real actual “Audrey II costume” used on Broadway. How? No idea, but it was one and the same.
At the end of the play, I got that same lump in my throat that I always get when I watch the cross country approach the finish line during those chilly fall XC meets. Something about “those kids! They put their whole hear into this!”
There is something about putting your heart into something, that makes people Feel things.
Next up, was a local performance of “Superior Donuts” put on by a local production company Theater Squared. I scored the tickets from a friend who couldn’t make it, so K and I went last Thursday. I had no idea what was in store – only a brief description on the playbook offered an idea of what was to come. The play was funny, and dark, and heartwarming, and not too complex but just enough to make you think about stuff, like maybe knowing the names of at least ten African American poets. But really, not a lot about donuts, though.I don’t know why I don’t go to the theater more often. This particular theater is designed in an intimate way – comfortable seats and no one is more than 15 feet away from the stage.
And now. I’ve come to the point in this post where I think it’s time to wrap it up… and I start to think I may need to mention the weather.
Lovely weather, we’re having. Looking forward to a sunny weekend in Phoenix.
Asahi Mountain, Japan. A volcano.
Just almost nearly exactly a year ago – on March 30th, to be precise – my friend and old college roomie Leigh Ann and her business partner/creative side kick David, came up north of the tunnel and we sat around my kitchen table over fika and kicked around this crazy idea for an organic & gmo free vegetable and herb brand.
– The brand name Peace Farm Organics would not convey a hippie feel with peace signs or tie dye. Nor would it have any peace doves with some kind of punny basil in its beak instead of an olive branch.
After that day, for the next few weeks, I’d sit at the kitchen counter now and then, spending time scratching out sketches for logo designs. The kitchen counter was the only viable space, since the dining table is for dining. But the kitchen counter was not practical as a long term solution.
– I decided to spend my lunch hours visiting flea markets in search of a good desk. I found one on the first stop!
This old mid-century heavy walnut desk was perfect. It had been painted – but I could spend a day stripping that later. And it was a steal for $75. Within days, the boys went to buy it and brought it home for my birthday!
Meanwhile, Leigh Ann is busy doing the hard parts – getting the official Certified Organic Growers Certificate, and eventually, all the planting.
– And finally!!!! Last weekend my friend Kaye and I went town to the greenhouses and saw all the work Leigh Ann has been doing: planting, growing, watering, replanting, more watering…. filling up a greenhouse with small pots ready for market!
The herbs and tomatoes are shipped as far Alabama and Missouri and Texas. I have friends and family in the Houston area who can get them at the Buchanan’s Native Plants ;-)
Have you heard about Sybil Ludington? In 1777 she rode 40 miles on horseback, with only a stick to defend herself, in order to warn the American militia that the British were coming. Though her journey was much longer than the distance of Paul Revere’s ride, and she was only 16 at the time, she isn’t as known compared to her male compatriot, Paul, who rode a little over 10 miles on a horse from Boston to Lexington, for them same purpose a couple of years earlier.
Today is Sibbell Ludington’s birthday.
This morning the guys took off to float the Buffalo River. Initially, I was going to join them, but after some reading between the lines (or listening I guess, between the lines) I got the feeling that Weylin thought it was going to be a guys-only trip, and didn’t want me to not feel welcome. So I offered up the old, “Hey, I’ll go if you want me to be there, or, I can stay here and make a big taco dinner and cake for when you all come back! I am good either way!” (Completely true. Although I might have protested somewhat, perhaps, if the weather had not been so cold, and the river temperatures were not still too winter-cold to swim in.)
So I stayed here, eventually went to the square for the premier of Farmer’s Market ….and then came home and made a big taco fiesta feast and a cake, per Weylin’s favorite.
As a baby, he was vocal and didn’t want to sleep through the night for months. Then it all sort of flip-flopped, and he became especially easy going and mellow. Especially, when he got to the so-called “terrible two’s”. I had always heard about the “terrible two’s” but we we spared the drama, of these fabled, trying years. He has been mellow ever since.
I remember once, on his 2nd birthday, when I observed him and his party friends in the back yard. I was video taping them, and noticed the group of kids all together in a huddle around the slide on the swing set. Weylin was on his own, scooting around on one of those scoot-around plastic trike toys. When one of his friend noticed him on the bike, he left the group on the swings and went to Weylin and proceeded to help himself to the handlebars, seat and general control of the toy, while forcing his way to push Weylin off. While this was happening, the others by the slide noticed, and migrating toward the action on the scooter.
Weylin, tried to hang on to the scooter, at first, but the persistence of the pushy rude boys taking his toy eventually prompted him to release it and leave the throng of mobsters to savagely feast upon the trike to themselves, while he wandered off to the trees in the yard, as if he could have cared less.
Then, almost like a choreographed dance, within seconds, the greedy little goblins followed him into the woods (what we called the trees along the fence back then) and tried to take the stick he was holding. But he ran off with the stick and didn’t look back, and the mother to the main ghoul-troll had by now gotten up to fetch her offspring.
He’s pretty much the same guy today. Mellow. An old soul. A guy with solid integrity. He would rather be home than at any kind of social gathering. Smart as a whip. And he’s sweet. He loves to watch cute puppy and cute animal videos. (And also play PC games like Dark Souls, so you know, balance.)
I always remember my mom on Good Friday. I know the date changes every year, but in 2002, she passed away on Good Friday. Seriously? 2002?
So many years ago. And still, I sometimes hear her voice in my conscience. She can sometimes give me that little boost of confidence, and understanding.
Lately, we’ve been going through “Stuff” in boxes and just Things, around the house. In an effort to just really simplify and minimize the accumulation of junk. Doing this, I often run across some old stack of photos or letters, or other items that trigger a memory to resurface. There are things that I tell myself have “historical” value. And then there are things that I can’t believe I saved all these years! (An old check register from 1993?! <– while interesting, to see where the money all went back then before debit cards.) And while I want to retain the good warm fuzzy feelings that percolate in my memory from some of these letters, photos, etc, I don’t know what to do with everything. So back into a box it goes.
This process is even more relevant right now, because both my father and father-in-law are essentially doing the same thing – only they have a few more years head start :) The process is not super enjoyable, I admit, because I have to make these decisions to discard (or donate? sell?) things that still have some strange meaning. Or I just like them. Or love them.
So, I keep the very precious, irreplaceable items. Photos & Letters, in particular.
And it’s not like our home is super cluttered and full of stuff, any way. It’s more like a scruffy beard, that could use a good decent barber’s trim.