spc: hung up

this weeks self-portrait shows
how i have been feeling:
on display.

testing, and the preparation to get there,
stresses a teacher out.
our test scores are published
in the local paper and
available on the internet for all to see
and compared to other state schools.
these numbers threaten the future of our school;
threaten my career.

my school only has one third grade class.
my shorties' scores are not combined
with any other class.
we are solo.
we are on our own.

however, our scores don't show
how well my children can write haikus
and work out a math problem with a partner.
the test doesn't measure how late a child had
to stay up to take care of a very sick grandmother/guardian.
they don't care if a cousin or father or mother
was shot as they walked to their car the day before.
the numbers don't show the fatigue of a child
who has no bedtime, or no bed for that matter.

the shorties are timed, stressed out and under pressure.
i don't know about you,
but when i am under pressure and have a deadline
i talk to my friends and colleagues to help me.
i bounce ideas off of others so that i can
think clearly and rationally.

state testing need to be re-thought.
education, as an institution, needs to remember
that it is about the children,
period,
instead of always trying to make the grownups look good.

shame on the tall-ees.


for this weeks online-enhancement, i used the cool dumpr site.
check out more groovy mugs here at the
self portrait challenge site.

peace of mind

sunday.
time for deep breathing and silence.
coffee with chocolate soy milk
and extra snuggle time with my man
while kitties tumble around at our feet.

state-testing is over
and tomorrow starts a new week.
a week without crying in
my principal's office,
"i just can't do it."
i sobbed, "i need someone to take them for
an hour. i need to be away from them."

a week where i practice my ever-dwindling patience.
we'll take a spring walk and plant seeds.
we'll dye eggs in honor of easter and
the blooming of our environment.
we'll continue our quest for classroom peace.
not friendship. just peace.
friendship takes time.
but peace. citizenship. the art of being cordial.
that is my goal.

ok.
i am lying.
i want my shorties to love each other.
i want them to work together and share their thinking.
i want them to greet each other with hugs and kind words,
not sneakiness, undermining and full-on-hating.
i want them to feel it in their hearts, not just say what they think i want to hear.

i want them to be my old class.
there. i said it.

but if i say it out loud, i will cry again.

so i will stick with the simple goal of just peace.
even if it isn't in their hearts.

for now.

trust me. i will not settle.

spc: kickin' up a storm

it happens at night when
i am trying to fall asleep
and i can't stop
giggling.
i can feel bumping
and light tap-a-tap-tapping
on my hip bone.

i wake up in the morning
and am shocked at the
size and roundness of my belly
as i walk past the mirror.

22 weeks pregnant.
and i am loving every
moment of it.

for this weeks self-portrait challenge, i used a combination of
scribbler and captioner by flickr toyz.
check out more online enhanced self-portraits here at the
self portrait challenge site.

walkin' the walk

"aren't we a family?
and aren't families s'posed to
be nice to each other?"
said my most emotional shortie,
to his classmates,
after a really rough afternoon.

i keep telling them
that they are good at
talkin' the talk
but i want more walkin'.
"you are the masters of your destiny,"
i say to them slowly.

they can say the words:

"if we can take care of each other
then we can have a
peaceful classroom community."

"i know i had a bad day ms. k.,
but i promise i will never be
disrespectful to you or the class again."

now. if they can just start doing it.

my old shorties (now in 5th - 7th grades)
offer to come and talk to my current
third graders about how to be peaceful.
i am going to take them up on it.
because, for some reason
this class just isn't getting it.

i am exhausted after the first hour of the day.
i try to stay positive.
i light candles and play the sounds of the ocean.
i write my morning message,
filling my heart with hope that maybe,
just maybe,
today will be different.
and then, i pick them up downstairs.

i am greeted with:
"she said that i look ugly today!"
"yeah...well she told everyone my mother used to
beat me when i was in kindergarten."
"shane is crying because walter was teasing
him about having no lunch money and now
shane has to eat peanut butter and jelly."
"lynette kicked me. yes. she meant it!"

when i get to the room, i fill out
two referrals to the office,
one nurse slip,
and give shane money for lunch.

taking a deep breath,
my hope is gone.
this is every morning in my classroom.
and i just can't shake it.

what is wrong?
where is the comraderie?
have i lost my touch?
will they ever understand that
peacefulness will get them everywhere?

sigh.
tomorrow starts a new week.
hopehopehopehopehope.

we are the masters of our destiny.


(baby brown, one of my old shorties, visiting me after school)

boy oh boy!

mmm hmmm.
yup.
we're having a boy!

i squinted and looked at the screen
where the technician was pointing
and saw "it".
(i dare not say scrotum or else
my blog may be banned across the country)

so, through bites of my tri-hourly snacks,
my quest to find the coolest cowboy boots
in little cutie-pahtootie sizes begins.

i am submitting this self-portrait for this month's self-portrait challenge.
my cheeks are full of juicy plum as i try to get
my daily amount of good nutrition.
surf through more online enhanced self-portraits here at the
self portrait challenge site.

'tis but a number...

i swiped the following
story from jill.
(this is a variation on a story originally
told by poet, taylor mali)

this was motivating for me,
a teacher, in the middle
of winter, waiting
for spring as the shorties
hit the wall two weeks before
state testing.


WHAT DO TEACHERS MAKE?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.

One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education.
He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided
his best option in life was to become a teacher?”

He reminded the other dinner guests
what they say about teachers:
"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach."

To stress his point he said to another guest,
"You're a teacher. Be honest. What do you make?”
The teacher replied, "You want to know what I make?
She paused for a second, then began ...

"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time
when their parents can't make them sit for 5
without an iPod, Game Cube or movie rental.
You want to know what I make?"

She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table.

"I make kids wonder.

I make them question.

I make them criticize.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.

I teach them to write and then I make them write.

I make them read, read, read.

I make my students from other countries
learn everything they need to know in English while
preserving their unique cultural identity.

I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.

Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts
they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts,
they can succeed in life."

The teacher paused one last time and then continued...

"Then, when people try to judge me by what I make,
I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because
they are ignorant. You want to know what I make?
I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

What do you make?"

black and white spc: seventeen weeks

"everything is exactly as it should be
at this time of your pregnancy,"
my midwife stated yesterday
as she measured
my growing middle
and found my uterus
two fingers under
my bellybutton.

the heartbeat was music to my ears
as i held my breath so i could catch
each miraculous second of the sound.

this week, we are developing fingerprints
and handprints and tiny, sweet feetprints
as the amniotic fluid swirls around
each tiny part.

thrilled.
overwhelmed.
in love.
round.


check out more black and white self-portraits here at the
self portrait challenge site.

scrotum a.k.a.(your non-censored word here)

absolutely ridiculous (read this).

argh.
what other word,
besides "scrotum"
should we use for that
part of the body?
"down there"?
"between the legs"?
"near his you-know-what"?
won't your child want to know
exactly where THERE and WHAT is?

is it so harmful for children
to know the proper names
for body parts?

i guess my nieces will
be in therapy for a long time
as they refer to their vaginas
as *gasp* vaginas!
eek!
what profanity!
how will they ever be normal?

if my new shortie-to-be is
a boy...will i have to think
of ways to avoid telling him
the different names for his
body parts?
nose...ears...arms...legs...um...well...er, i...uh...

i say, buy it!!!!
read it aloud!
request it in your local library
if it is not there.

post-valentines' post

schools closed.
my man had the day off.
the alarm was turned to silent
and we slept until 10.
the world outside glimmering
under it's crust of snow and ice.

i soak in these moments
of pre-baby-ness.
i let the quiet and the warmth
of wraparoundeachother sink in
as we breathe our deep sleep breathing.

after a morning of
heart-shaped banana pancakes
and warm maple syrup,
we watched
like water for chocolate
wrapped in a down comforter.

combination
snow day/valentines' day
is the best, ya'll.

b/w spc: one twig at a time

pair by platform-strappy-high-heel pair
i packed them into their boxes
as i said goodbye until
next year.

we are nesting.
getting ready for
wall smashing
and drywall cutting.

occasionally, i stop to
rub my beautiful, round belly
as i pack away all of
the clothing that my
growing pregnant arse cannot fit into
until after our
sweet angel
is in our arms
and my jogging stroller
is assembled.



check out more black and white portraits here at the
self portrait challenge site.

punctuation

"i am sure that i don't have to
warn you about this...but you know",
i said, cautiously,
after we talked about
the new chapter in her life,
"now that you get your period,
you could get pregnant if
you were intimate with a boy."

i know.
but i am not like that, ms. k."

"i believe you",
i say as i think about all the boys
she talks about with her friends
and the unsupervised afternoons
after school and no parent is
wondering where she is.

plus. if i WERE to get pregnant,
i know he better give me $600 for an abortion."
she says,
hands on her hips,
eyebrows raised in all seriousness.

silence.

not what i was expecting from
the mouth of a ten-year-old.

anywhere, anyone, anything

post read-aloud shortie conversation:

"if i were alive back then,
i would have punched anyone
if they told me i coudn't go
into a restaurant or bathroom."

"i would have gone in anyway."

"you might have been killed!
you would have been scared."

"it was dangerous to fight.
if you did, you would be hurt
real bad."

"people had to be brave.
that is why we have our school today
and we can go anywhere we want."

looking out at my shorties,
after reading a story about the
life of the late, greatest,
courageous martin luther king,
i was glad for their gumption and pluck.
glad knowing that if martin
could hear them
he would know that his fight
was worth every step.
worth every sleepless night.
worth every second spent
summoning courage to face
what was overwhelmingly
wrong.

martin would be as proud
as i am to hear
my shorties say,
"...we can go anywhere we want."

yes, my sweet babies.
you can.
to the moon and back home again.

happy birthday, dr. king.
thank you.

spc: late july

each january
i begin the new year
with promises of ramping up
my excersise routine.
i run harder, faster longer
breathing in the cool winter air.

but this january
cream cheese on crackers,
mango fruit bars
and bubbie's pickles from whole foods,
odwalla protein shakes,
and coldcoldcold grapes
are what i live on now.

yoga pants with the fold down waist
and my softest cotton shirts
are what i live in now.

i have not been running
but sleeping most of the days
of my three-week break
from the shorties.
sleeping and eating
and trying not to hurl.

however,
i have not been a total sloth.
for eleven weeks
i have been working hard.
i have developed
a larynx
a brain
toes
fingers
and one beating heart.

on the first of december
i watched the two lines appear
on the white stick
as i unbelievably cried
and held my belly.

one month plus one day
after my first appointment
with my acupuncturist,
we concieved.

we are due in late july.

hee...



this new year, i will be pampering myself.
i will be preparing and reflecting
on the arrival of my very own shortie.

see more new year's resolutions here at the
self portrait challenge site.

spirit

thank you, andrea, for putting me in the christmas spirit with your words and video link!

getting there

the red and green sugar
has been swept off the floor.
red hots that melted
in a puddle of sugar cookie frosting
have been scraped from the
desktops.

"maria and jose'"
asked for shelter as we
went from one classroom to another,
passing out treats and singing
"o pueblecito de belen"
in little excited voices,
knowing that our posada would end
in the demolition of our carefully packed pinata.

our interview questions for the january webcam meeting
of the second-grade esl students in texas
wait in a pile on my desk for our return:

"do you really put your shoes outside for the three wise men to fill?"
"aren't you afraid someone will steal your shoes?"
"do you celebrate las posadas?"
"where do you sleep?"
"do you celebrate our lady of guadalupe like we read in the books?"

grades have been recorded and
our stained-glass windows have been taken down.

i will spend the next three weeks of this session break
building on the hope that we will learn to take care of each other.
someday.
i will reflect and research and pull on every creative resource i can
to make next session better than any winter session ever.
i will remember how far we have already come
as i see each shortie's face in my dreams.

with much sadness...

i am posting this from an email sent out from my school.
some of you are on that email list and may have already heard this news.
i have not written in the last week as my heart has been full of sadness for my friend.

Dear Friends,

As you may have heard, our kindergarten teacher, Marsha Cozart, lost her three year old son when he was hit by a car in his stroller last Friday afternoon. Her mother, who was with him, was injured. We have all felt overwhelmed by this incredible tragedy and have been looking to help in any way possible. Due to funeral expenses (there was no life insurance policy) and medical expenses (her mother didn't have health insurance), we have established a memorial fund to help the Cozart family meet these financial needs in the midst of their grief. If you wish to make a contribution you can send checks payable to:

New Song Community Learning Center
1530 Presstman St.
Baltimore, MD 21217

Please write Elijah Cozart Memorial Fund in the memo line. Donations will not be tax deductible because they are going to an individual.

gracias

i am thankful for
the love of my life.
my husband rocks.
just when i don't
think i could possibly
love someone more,
i find that i can.

i am grateful for
my family.
i find strength in them.
i am appreciative of their wisdom and love.

i am thankful for
the shorties all.
the tough ones and the
ones that throw their arms
around me each day.
i am humbled and rewarded
by the lessons
they teach me.

i have a (leaky) roof over my head
and food in my belly.
i am warmed by clean flannel sheets,
a purring cat by my toes,
and the spooning of my man each night.

i am breathing deeply
and aware. so very aware.

happy thanksgiving to everyone everywhere.
peace.

voting glam

on this election day
(and deadline for
this week's self portrait challenge)
i am proud of the women
who fought so hard
to earn all women everywhere
the right to vote.

the following is an excerpt that was sent
in an email from one of the strongest women i know:

"The women were innocent and defenseless. And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of "obstructing sidewalk traffic."
They beat Lucy Burn, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air. They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.
Thus unfolded the Night of Terror on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote.
For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms. When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.
So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because--why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?"

i voted today.
and as i walked to the polls,
i smiled, knowingly, at each
woman that i passed.
and each woman smiled back.

check out other shots o' glamour here.

happy halloween, ya'll

pumpkin ale.
chocolate.
glitter.
arched-backed kitties.


it's the most wonderful time of the year.

monster mash

today was the last day of our first session.
i made it.
seven weeks of the longestdaysever.
breathe.
35 days of hating the monster i feel i am becoming.
how do i reach these children?

i haven't written much.
i wake up exhausted.
i go to bed exhausted.
i dream of failed lessons
and what coulda'shoulda'woulda' happened
ififif...

i have cried at the end of the day
as i erase all of the
lessons-that-didn't-happen
from our morning message board.
lessons that don't even have a chance
because of behaviors that
leave me with my jaw on the floor,
pulling every trick out of each
file in my spinning head.
i miss my old shorties...

i have wanted to scream
at the TOP OF MY LUNGS
at the child who
consistentlyconsistentlyconsistently
keeps me from teaching.
eyelids turned inside out,
whistling without a care,
he ignores my attempt at
redirecting his powers towards
good and not evil.

i have made it.
time to regroup.
it will get better.
i know they can do it.

after i rest and sort my head
i will reflect and write more.

honkSQUEAK

jamie read the title of
the story she was about to read to my shorties
from her book of scary tales.

"listen to the way ms. jamie
uses her voice. she makes her
voice sound very scary.
she is really great at it!"

jamie asked me if i believe in ghosts.

i answered, "yes."

she told us all about the ghosts
that frequent her aunt's house
that is next to a graveyard.

hands shot up into the air
as the shorties made connections
to their own life experiences.

my shortie-of-sweetness
shared the following:
"one day, when i was home alone
in my room, i heard a very strange noise.
it went, "honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK!!!'
(note: "squeak" was said a little louder and at a higher pitch than the "honk")

we asked what happened next.

"well. i was scared cuz it sounded just like
my bed does when i jump on it...but i wasn't
moving! and then i heard it again!
honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK!
it was really loud!"

at this point, i put my head down on my desk
to hide the fact that i had tears rolling down my face
from laughing so hard.

he kept saying, "honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK!"

jamie leaned over and quietly whispered to me,
"i don't think he was alone."

as i ran out of the room so that i could laugh openly,
i heard my shortie-of-sweetness respond to the
questions of what-he-did-next.
"i ran into the living room and turned the t.v. on
and it finally stopped."

honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK, honkSQUEAK!

hee.
out of the mouths of babes.

kifli

living behind the school,
hiding from the rain in muddy rat-tunnels,
and being hungry are behind her now.
meet kifli.
weighing in at 1.3 pounds.

we bathed her
with lavender shampoo
and warm water.
she didn't move an inch as
the flea dirt and mud washed out
of her fur and swirled down the drain

she is stretched out,
licking her paws;
cozy and nestled
in her down-filled blanket.

life is good, little one.
may you have sweet dreams
and be happy.

free hugs

saw this today.
wouldn't it be nice if
we could all be this open
to others?

just do it

"you need to have clarity," she said,
"you need to be open and ready to accept
the child's soul that is meant to come to you."

i had my first acupuncture session today.
sitting there,i relived past moments and events
that i usually hold onto dearly while
locking the closet door.
i was crying within the first five minutes.

"how do you feel about being 40
and trying to have a child?"
tears.
unstoppable.
wanting to pull it together.
but i couldn't.

"you need to decide what you
are willing to do to make this happen"

what am i willing to endure?
am i willing to endure the pain and loss of multiple pregnancies?
am i willing to endure the heartbreak of a
birth mother changing her mind after
we have fallen in love with her child?
if i want it. then i can be that strong, right?

clarity.
(breathe)
clear mind.
(breathe)
clear goals.
(breathe)
soul open to accept what is my destiny.

back-to-school night

"my son said he loves you."

really? i feel like i have been so mean!

"he says he understands now why,
last year,
everyone was crying on the last
day of school."

wow...did everyone know
about that?
really? he said that?

we hung our haikus today so that
the sun filtered brightly through
the orange, yellow and green
leaf-shaped paper.
we spread our notebooks
across our desks so
that our parents could
leaf through and see
all of the good thinking
and imagination that flows
across each page.

tonight, each parent sat at their child's desk
looking at me with the same-but-older faces
i see everyday.
full of hope for the new year.
full of love and adoration
for their babies...their hearts.

this week is better.
we will be fine.
each day brings a new understanding.
them of me.
me of them.

the honeymoon is over

each time i see one of my old shorties
i want to scoop them up and tell them
how much i miss them.
(sometimes i do.)

i am at a loss.
my new shorties are testing me
in every way they can.
i have become ms. kath-a-mean.
fer real.
fer serious, ya'll.

the not careingaboutdoinghomework,
and inyourface disrespect
and flat-out meanness towards one another
is just killing me.

to keep them safe and peaceful,
i have had to separate the groups of desks
into neat rows, individually facing front.
how lame.
that is not me.
that goes against every teaching grain
in my want-to-encourage-them being.

but to be a peaceful community, they need to work together.
to work together, they need to be kind to each other.
and the element-of-kind is what they are struggling with.

and even more lame:
i KNOW that childrens' behavior comes from their environment.
and i am enforcing negativity by seperating them.

i am exhausted.
i KNOW that we will get there.
but today, i feel like i have been beaten.
today, i experienced the worst behavior from my shorties
than any others i have taught. ever.

and it is not acceptable.
i am raising the bar even higher.

may all the forces be with me.


i'm goin' in.

spc: matching voices with faces

creative mama from seattle.
married to jon.
mother of jaylie, jayden and journey.

joy and i met about a year ago.
we have commented on each other's photographs,
read one another's blogs
and emailed about teaching philosophy.
she and her husband are crazytalented picture-takers.
they are amazing parents to three of the
most beautiful children i have ever seen.
aaaand i got to meet them for the first time,
in person,
last night!
(thank you mr. and mrs. madison
for including me in your baltimore itinerary!)


check out more people with people here.

the curtain rises

today we became a popcorn popper
filled with kernels.

my shorties popped and sizzled
and hopped and "ouched" as they
imagined their journey to the
bowl where they'd be buttered and salted.

"being a kernel and
getting so hot that you're
gonna burst is like when i
get soooooo mad and stomp my feet
and i just scream as loud as i can"

agreement.

"it is like when a volcano explodes"

"yeah! and the butter is like the lava!"

oooooh yeah.
we are going places.

spc: kathi and ellen

my mom.
my aunt.
me.

i can tell them anything.
and,
even at my age,
if i step out of line,
they will put me right
back in my place.

they have my back.
full of love and strenth,
my mentors
are two of the most
amazing women i know.



check out other
peeps muggin' with their peeps here.

ingredients

i get the list of my new shorties
tomorrow.
i will organize my art supplies
tomorrow.
i will hang my peace flags and
string up my littlewhitelights
tomorrow.
all of the teachers will come together
tomorrow
and reflect and plan and eat and chat.
tomorrow
is a new beginning.
my mailbox, stuffed with scholastic catalogs
will be waiting for me along with
my empty bulletin boards and
special drawer stuffed with all of the old notes
from the shorties i have loved.

tomorrow
i will visualize
our desks full
of books and dreams
of how high we can actually
go
together
as a
new
family.

spc: these feet were made fer walkin'

this month's self-portrait challenge is about enclosed spaces.
(marigoldie, click here.)

aging is like being in a small space.

i keep saying "i am forty"
to make it real.
cuz i feel like i am
way behind in maturity
in comparison to where
i am "supposed to be".

so...i sat, looking at my dirty, dusty feet
while at the philly folk festival.
and thought of all the places
they have taken me over the years.
taking my first steps.
pedaling my first two-wheeler.
walking to my first day of kindergarten
and home with my brother.
countless teen dances where i
kissed a boy for the first time.
wearing character shoes for all
of the plays and shows i performed in.
years of working in retail, standing for hours.
bar-hopping in my twenties.
sailing for the first time
(and almost barfing) to catalina
with my big brother.
waiting tables to get through school.
walking everywhere for the five years that i didn't own a car.
running. running. running.
jumping rope with the shorties.
walking down the aisle at my wedding to
marry the most wonderful-man-in-the-world.
standing all day in a classroom.
camping and hiking
and biking and photographing
and marching and skipping
and twirling
and
and
and...

these feet are going to take me through the next half of my life.
and that half is going to rock even more than the first.

crossing over

this is the last post
of my thirties.

paul and i are leaving
after i publish this
to go camping until
sunday.
the day i turn four-oh.

we will be at the
philly folk festival
listening to amazing
music 24 hours a day,
on-stage and in
the campground.

i will return
older
wiser
and maybe a
little hung-over...

until then, my peeps.
until then.

hee...

self-portrait challenge: stairs

i hate stairwells.
not because i'm lazy.
because i fear them.

when i am going up a flight,
i always feel like someone/thing
is behind me
chasing me
out to get me
and pull me downdowndown
into some bottomless black hole.
or
on open stairs,
i feel like someone
is under them and
will reach out and grab my foot
and i will pass out from fear
and wake up in a dungeon somewhere.

i have always had this fear.

when i was little, i would stand
at the top of our stairs in the
middle of the night,
on my way to the bathroom.
i would be
paralyzed with the knowing
that some snarling, hairy monster
was going to run up and
grab me and carry me into
the darkness and gobble me up.
seriously, i would stand there,
motionless. not wanting
to give myself away.
it would take all of my courage to run
to the bathroom door and pass the
top step of the hollow blackness
that went to the first floor of our house.

and i still shake a bit when i have
to come up the basement steps after
throwing a load of laundry in.
always looking behind me
over my shoulder
just to make sure.


this month's challenge is: small spaces.
find more self portraits here.

end-of-the-week thankfulness

i flew into charm city yesterday.
back to the land of old bay seasoning
and the town where everyone calls you "hon".

i am home.

i am thankful for so much.
i have just spent the last three weeks roadtrippin'
across very beautiful parts of our country.

i am grateful for the adventurous
memories made on the drive
through appalachian country with my
sweet friend, shelley/thelma,
who now lives in houston.

i am fortunate to have visited with family
and, together, inhale yummy memphis barbecue,
crazygood texas tamales and local beer.

i am thankful to have filled my lungs
with the clean desert arizona air
and to have seen the saguaros of tucson.
i am grateful to have feasted on the best fish tacos and posole
i have ever had with
my dear friend, keno.

today, i attended the baptism of our
neighbor's triplets on this glorious morning.
i walked the whole way to the church
with my other neighbor, carol.
it was 75 degrees and breezy.

paul and i grooved out on the best
tomato sandwiches for dinner.
(hooray for summer tomatoes!)
ciabatta bread rubbed with garlic
and layered with yellow and red slices.

i will sleep in my own bed
next to my cutie-pahtootie
and our toe-biting cat.

tomorrow, i begin the last week of my thirties, ya'll.
seven days until i am the big four-oh.
(but that is a whole 'nother entry.)

peace out.

spc: roadtrippin' on highway 10

the self portrait challenge
this month is: small spaces
so i thought it appropriate
to write about my
current roadtrip and being
trapped in a car for what seemed like
forever.

my dear friend, keno
and i left houston on sunday afternoon.
we gassed up trigger,
our trusty steed,
and headed west on highway 10.

armoured with
ample snackage
(two thermoses filled with
strong coffee, scones, cookies,
hot cheetos, salt and pepper chips,
bananas, breakfast burritos, popcorn,
pellegrino, spring water, and diet dr. pepper),
we began our 16 hour, 1065 mile voyage.

somewhere after san antonio
we switched seats.
"if you see a critter," advised keno,
"and you can't swerve to miss it,
then just hit it."

what?

"you know...just don't flip us.
don't freak out and go off the road,"
he explained.
"it is better to dent trigger then to be
upside down, skidding across the empty
desert highway..."

i nodded in agreement.
my eyes peeled, i sped down the road.
not even one mile into my navigation,
i spotted a deer carcass.
(much more than a dear-smear).
i screamed, and held onto the wheel tightly
as i realized i was going to have to straddle the
bloody mess with the tires.

"good job! you handled that well!"
encouraged my nervous friend.

my heart was racing and we were still
in one piece. whew...
i sped ahead.

"what the hell is THAT?!"
i could only switch to the lane that
the big, grey, needley-furred looking beast
was facing.
"please don't run in front of me..." i pleaded.
my stomache flipping, i stared at the critter
that stood on the yellow line.
i drove right by its nose.
"i think...i think...now i know this sounds crazy...
but i think that was a wild boar!" i stated.

then we started laughing.
hard.

laughing nervously.
laughing at the surrealness of it all.
laughing with relief that we didn't smear it across the highway.

bunnies. hundreds of bunnies.
whole gangs of 'em
watched us from the roadside
as we sped across texas.
into new mexico.
and, finally into arizona.

the sun came up as we deliriously
drove into tucson.
past the yucca trees and cactus.
sleep deprived, we arrived at our hotel
and parked trigger.
finally, we were free to roam
about with our own two feet.

i am in the land of cactus, ya'll.
a whole 'nother world from baltimore.
i'll keep my eyes peeled for rattlesnakes
and keep ya'll posted.