Laughter

...in any language. Thanks, Tiina.

(how i'm) Wired

Being a bit under the weather has set up a perfect storm.  I'm 500+ pages into The Passage.  Nonplussed (but determined) for the first 200-250 pages, I am sucked into the vortex now.

Moderation eludes me.

image pulled from web.

Evensong

Bedtime for Sag has seen a significant shift. 

He has been anxious when it's time to turn off the lights, beset with 'bad thoughts', for a couple of months.  (I have a feeling that this is a result of the insecurity that often comes right before a developmental spurt.  He turns 9 in November and there are changes afoot...you may have noticed that he even looks different these days in that b/w pic I posted earlier this week.)

A few weeks ago, Gem started to tell Sag stories to help distract and calm him.  They are now in a lovely groove, one which they both look forward to.  After they put their books away and the lights are turned down low and lavender oil is dropped onto their pillows and I tuck them and their creatures in with blessings and leave the room...

I hear the song of one son soothing the other.  Words spinning tales of adventure and fun and mishap, of truth in imagination.  Hushed tones to trilling laughter back to hushed tones again.

I wish I could take a picture, but of course, I can't.  This evensong is theirs alone.

Thrum

...of excitement.  And literary bloodlust.  The Passage is waiting for me at the library!

After a sunny late September afternoon of dropping Cap and the kids off at the art museum (the kids' 2D animation class starts today) and picking up veggies, fruit, chicken, eggs and raw cheese at Donna's, I will head over to the library, grab my books, and settle in for some reading tonight.

I did say books.  When it rains it pours, these two books are waiting for me, as well.

Nellie Oleson's book!

will it give me insight on what it's like to be married to me?

Sag's behemoth

Sometimes I'm not sure which blog to post something.  I decided to post about Sag's Behemoth over at Every Day Eclectic.  Check it out for some fun :-)

Late afternoon

Slump.

Restless wandering of mind and body.

Wanting to plug into something comfortable.

Nerve endings quivering feeling simultaneous love and loss.

Every thing a whorl.

P.S.  Practiced Qigong for the first time in a long time this morning and it has been a marvelous day.  Methinks this late afternoon dip would be remedied with a bit of chocolate.  Alas, there is none on hand.

September

September 

by Mary Oliver

I walk through a grove of pines and startle the nighthawk

from the limb where it has been lying, resting or sleeping.

The bird is similar in color to the gray limb, and lies along

not across it, so it is almost invisible.  On its hawk-like wings

it rises into the sky, and vanishes.

The nighthawk doesn't nest there but only stops  a few days

on its long travels.  I know this one must be tired of flight,

and I am sorry to have disturbed it.

The next day, walking in the same woods, I approach with

care.  The bird is again resting on the limb, its eyes shut.  I

back away and do not disturb it.

The following year, almost to the day, I enter the

pinewoods and remember the nighthawk just in time --- in

time to be cautious and silent.  And the bird is there, in the

same tree, on the same limb, in the pinewoods that is so

pretty and restful, apparently, to both of us.

Equinox walk

Walked around Barbour's Pond with the usual crew to mark the Fall Equinox (a few days early).  It was our first morning hike to mark the seasonal occasion and the light was quite different.  We were happy to see our feathered friend, Broken Wing, who we don't always catch a glimpse of.

Dawn

The brother of the child who usually pokes me before climbing into bed was the one who gently poked me this morning.  He needed help.  The husband moved so I hoped he would get up.  He didn't.  I am the one blessed/cursed with the ability to pop wide awake.  At any hour.

So I got out of bed and helped my child.  And he felt better for it.  That made it worth any lost sleep right there.  It took awhile to take care of everything and then settle back into bed.  It was dark, but peaceful.  And the clock had said 5:30 when I caught a glimpse of it.

Soon, the usual bed joiner crashed through the living room.  I remembered seeing a large light saber box in a bad location and cursed my not-awake-enough self that noticed but let it be.  He snuggled into bed, I rubbed his bumped knee, and my body was warmed by a child on either side.

I couldn't fall back asleep, so I got up thinking it was close to 6:00 by then.

Came out to the front room, turned on the computer.  Saw that it was 5:17.  ?!?

Being up since 4:30 always makes for an interesting day.  I should make every effort not to operate heavy machinery after 4pm or so.

Cyclical mystery

photo pulled from web.

I swear it's like pedaling to nowhere.

Why why why at 44 do I still not get it.  (Not that it really matters I guess?)

Last night while the kids were playing with L&O and then settling down for the season premiere of Star Wars The Clone Wars at 9pm, I was at the computer, feeling more tired by the second.  I was positng pictures from the aquarium.  I was vaguely dissatisfied, physically out of sorts.  I remembered the chocolate bar I had picked up at Whole Foods (where we picked up some dinner items since our original plans to have sushi in Philly fizzled out).

It was a dark chocolate with coconut bar.  In the car, Gem had declared it too laden with coconut.  Sag didn't like it either.  I felt it was too sweet.  But, I had hated the feeling I had gotten standing in front of the chocolate bar display.  They didn't have my go to Divine.  Nothing else looked reliably good.  I was becoming disgusted at my American self standing in the pinnacle of American consumerist supermarkets unable to decide which chocolate bar I wanted and not wanting any of the hundreds at my disposal.

I almost walked away, so great was my anomie.  But, then I spotted the coconut, which sounded interesting and I grabbed it.

Fast forward back to 9pm.  I plucked the bar from my purse and proceeded to eat the whole bar.  Part of me was prodding my brain with a finger going 'really? really?!'  But, most of me was in a daze.  A daze with some purpose.  Must.  Have.  Chocolate.

I hit the point of crumpling shortly thereafter and walked to my bed and lay down on top of the covers.  I just had to close my eyes.  I was so sleepy.  Normally, when the kids are up, and especially if they have friends over, it would never occur to me to lie down.

Cap was working in the bedroom, half of which is his home office.  He bore witness.  He saw something I was too hazy to see and told me I should just go to bed.  In the recesses of my mind, behind closed eyes, I muttered 'don't tell me what to do', clearly unclear on my situation.  And a crank, on top of that.  He gathered his things, turned out the light and left me alone.

I got up briefly to brush my teeth, but then fell right asleep.

So does everyone else see what I didn't?  I woke up this morning and my period had arrived.

You know, it's actually kind of interesting.  I am definitely in the autumn of my menstrual career and things are changing.  PMS used to be distinctly recognizable and it no longer is.  Now signs of my approaching period (my body being fed a particular chemical/hormonal cocktail) include what were signs of pregnancy (ie. the supra sleepiness).  An opportunity to take a trip down memory lane before it all goes away?

I'm in awe, really.  Do men get to be so entertained by their body systems?

White cyclamen

image pulled from web.

Right before I woke up, I dreamt I was in a  marketplace.  My friend Kelly was in one of the stall shops selling bunches of white cyclamen.  The flowers were a bit fuller than cyclamen actually are in real life.  They resembled the thickness of a tulip.  The stems were long and leafless and they were cut.

The flowers were beautiful and plentiful.  I would be taking some home.

The European-feeling market was on Austin Street, the street that had all the shops on it in my old neighborhood.  In real life, the area was struck by a tornado a couple of days ago.  One person was killed, my brother says it was a miracle that more people weren't.  A friend from Hunter posted on Facebook that her parents, her mother specifically, had a very close call.  Another friend from Hunter posted a photo of a downed very old, very big willow tree in the front yard of the apartment building of yet another Hunter friend whose mother still lives in the building.  My sister and brother-in-law's parked car, which was empty at the time, sustained a shattered windshield and dented hood from a very large falling branch.

I don't 'do' mainstream media for the most part.  I never watch the news on tv.  So I have been sheltered from the clamor of images and sound bites.  But, clearly, Forest Hills is in my thoughts.

Two interesting dream details:

• I walked by quite a bit of food in the market and though it all looked delicious, I didn't eat anything.  The flowers felt like my destination.

• I started my journey in the lobby of an apartment building which was a combination/permutation of the lobbies of my sister and brother's apartment buildings.  (Both live in the old neighborhood an easy walk to the location of the marketplace.)  As I walked through, I saw another friend from Hunter, but one who has no connection to the old neighborhood that I know of.  This friend was seated at a large dark wood table (my sister's lobby features a lot of dark old wood...it's a beautiful old building).  We both glanced at each other and I left.

The Hunger Games

If you haven't read this book, read it.  It is very, very good.  Truly a nearly perfect book.  It's one of those books that as you're reading it, you think, how has this book never been written before?  It seems so natural, so real, so familiar, so of life.

If you have read this book and didn't think it was the bee's knees, I would love to hear your perspective.

Now, I have been working hard to curb my buying of books for personal pleasure.  But, last month, I succumbed.  The combination of my deep desire to read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, my impatience in the face of a god-knows-how-long wait for the book from the library and Amazon's deep discounts proved too hard to ignore.

Because I hate paying for shipping, I also tacked on The Hunger Games and Anne Lamott's Bird By Bird to my order.

It took me awhile to get around to reading The Hunger Games, but once I did, I was riveted.  A few chapters in, I requested the second and third books through the library and was promptly put on the waiting lists for them.  

I finished the book yesterday.  Today, we got back from our day out much earlier than expected.  I thought I'd run up to my indie bookstore to pick up the second book if they had it.  I called and was dismayed to hear that the second book is not out in paperback ('because they can' the bookseller said).

When I ordered the first book from Amazon (for $9) I thought it was a hardcover remainder.  So when I heard that my love of a bookstore had the second book for $18, my heart sank.  I just couldn't do it.  The bookseller on the other end of the line understood.  This part of the exchange was unspoken.  How often this must come up for them, I can well imagine.

I hopped online and ordered the second and third books from Amazon for 50% off cover.  That's how much I loved the first book.  I cannot wait to find out what happens next to these characters and this society.

Water world

Adventure Aquarium in Camden.  It was wonderfully uncrowded.  Philly is right across the Delaware River.  We had planned to head to Philly for an early sushi dinner, but we were done with the aquarium by 2pm so opted to head back.

It's nice to have some unexpected time at home.  Cap's prepping tomorrow's class and we're hoping we may be able to watch a movie together tonight.  The kids are chilling.  I decided to make a move regarding the latest book I read and loved.  Which you can read all about in my next post :-)

His mother's son

He understands that each item has its place and has only needed to hear once where those spots are.  (As if the organizational design makes total sense.)  He is persnickety about any moisture, stains, and 'crust'.  He works quietly, thoughtfully and at his own pace.

(He doesn't earn money for all the work he does around home, but for this new job he is receiving 75¢ per unloading.  He's saving up for something and asked for a way to earn some scratch.)

Wordless wednesday

Mellow

Again, of course, the choppy waves and red tornado clouds have passed.  I'm tired...no longer rocked with stormy, sad emotion.

Enjoying the sunlight slanting warmth onto my fingers as I type.

Enjoying my lovely blue cast iron dutch oven full of chili on the stove.  The chain of events: chopping, sauteing and adding onion, garlic, carrots, green-purple peppers (all from the farm) to ground turkey well-seasoned with salt, freshly ground black pepper, cumin and chili powder and then stirring in a can of black beans and a can of kidney beans and then pouring in two big cans of crushed tomatoes (one organic, one local)...aromatic, meditative, therapeutic.  Slow cooking the chili for the next few hours and then letting it season overnight for common meal tomorrow.

Enjoying listening to the silence and din of the kids with O.  Deep play with great friends usually involves both.

Enjoying the book I started this morning during DEAR (Drop Everything And Read): The Hunger Games.

Enjoying this picture.  The kids and I washed the kitchen floor today.

On my walk

this spot of red cheered me.

Another short walk this morning.  Cap has an early morning and the kids are not comfortable left alone.  I woke early enough to drive to the park for a longer walk, but it was darkish.  And then I ended up writing a long e-mail to W who is in Germany for a few weeks and whose phone presence I have been missing.

I discovered that even a 15 minute walk can add dimension to my consciousness.

I have been missing my time and treatments with V.  I've been aware that practicing Qigong is a way to treat myself during this time though I am not practicing much.  (Honestly, what would it take?)

I realized on my walk that I am missing the 'male' feedback I get from V.  Because most of my close confidantes are female, my weekly talks with V were special.  I don't have any deep understanding of the mechanics of male/female energy (in terms of yin/yang), but I know that balance is always good, and my relationship with him provides me with balance.

The other thing I noticed was that I could not get my breath, the feeling of it, past my clavicle.  I kept trying to breathe deeply as I walked and my chest was so tight with energetic congestion that the sensation of breath would not get through.

Awareness is good.  Maybe I'll go practice now?

Loose ends

Finished Stephen King's On Writing tonight.  Just in time to return it to the library tomorrow.  I enjoyed it a lot, despite having taken a seriously long break in between the first 3/4 and last 1/4 of the book.

I enjoy his writing, have since I was a teenager.

I also just watched the season finale of True Blood.  It ended well.  Many questions (while wrapping up old ones), but nothing too cliff hanger-y intense.

I am worn out emotionally, trying to tend to my body to shore up balance.  Off to make a cup of tea...and likely Mad Men or The Closer...though I should also consider sleep.

Off balance

...literally. 

Especially as my head changes position from vertical to horizontal or back.  Inner ear?  Delicate channels flooded by excess fluid?  Manifestation of energetic/physical imbalance?  Sensitivity to atmospheric pressure bearing down?

Who knows.

I'm somewhat used to it by now.  It happens every six months or so...maybe once a year.

This morning, I staggered out of bed wanting to record fast fleeting images from my dreams and if it hadn't been for a fortuitously placed wall I would have gone down.

Powerful swings of pressure and force out of my control.

I may be quiet here for a bit.  Today is the start of my Fall schedule with the kids.  The days will be infused with more structure. 

Also, I'm really bummed about some things.  Feeling the (lung) season, as it were.

By being here, I feel 1) too close to exposing raw nerves; and 2) too close to producing (continuing to produce) a barrage of textual diarrhea or painfully inert constipation, as I try to move forward through this emotional, psychic morass.

And who wants that?

Border towns

Nick's show, Border Towns was a fantastic mind bend and earful.  Anna calls it avant garde musical theater.  The show's description on the art space website reads:

"Border Towns explores how recordings have re-engineered the psychological landscape of the US, stitching together hundreds of recordings collected along the borders. Seven performers lipsync, sing, and move precisely with a dense map of strong fragments, ambient sounds, and border broadcasts. Along the way, musical Americana gets reconstructed into a surreal theatrical collage reflecting on recording, location, and culture."

My Cuban dinner beforehand was yummy.  A picadillo (beef hash) that contained raisins, olives and yucca.  The company, four friends from Wesleyan, one lovely significant other, and the composer/co-director, was warm and fuzzy with much "back-to-school" talk and mojito drinking (lime Jarritos for me :-)

 image pulled from web.