What Vampire Families Do

So, the first school week is over- two good classes and one pain in the butt class. Rotten freshman. And my giant online college class, but that is fun! I really like teaching online...

Anyway, I was exhausted yesterday when I got home... Charles had made yummy yummy baked chicken goodness with potatoes and green beans, it was raining just a bit and we were watching movies, eating comfort food while I finished reading the college kids work. The manz had been busy all day... it was cozy inside and by 8 o'clock we were both dozing in our chairs. By 8:30 we were tucked in bed, sound asleep.

2:00 rolls around and for some reason, some strange reason known only to Verizon, they decide to message my cell phone to tell me that my minutes are low. Great. I use the cell phone as an alarm so it wakes everyone up... we try to go back to sleep, but the kitty starts meowing, Charles gets up for good and I am just about to drift off when nature takes it's course. What goes in must go out and kitty is in the kitty box and it smells like an elephant died in our bedroom. So now I'm awake to.

What to do? Why, bake cookies of course- cinnamon oatmeal toffee and mocha Swiss chocolate chip. The boy magically appears and I con him into doing the dishes. The manz is in his chair watching a movie, drinking coffee and taste-testing cookies- we decide that this is what vampire families do when they are not outside lurking in the rain, hoping for tasty victims. They hang out and bake cookies, watch movies, stay up all night.

Back to School!

A photograph of Ariel that Neena took and altered last year- it is one of my favorite images, the color and expression, capturing an age in light.

School began today- first student day... it's almost four, they are gone and I'm exhausted. I never feel that I know what I'm talking about- even when I do- I am settling in with this group of kids and some are already testing me. Some already are at home here... most of the art 2's, the little artblock class that are like my own. The art ones have to get used to me, and it sucks that I had to be mean the first day- but when someone tests you the first day you have to be firm with boundaries. In charge. Then we had extra time because time is all odd again, my class clock is NOT in synch with the school clock and I never could wear a watch. Ran over in homeroom and art 2, cut it short in art 1, and artblock ended up talking about Ted Kennedy and the super-model murder. At least it was current events!

I want to do things differently this year, shift focus a bit. I get tied up though in change from what I've always taught (which is now easy and familiar) and what I want to teach (my big ideas) and reality (no supplies- but I can cope with that... and enthusiasm-suckers who make me tired...a bit hard to be all 'go' when someone is sitting there rolling their eyes at you and wishing you into teacher-hell). ... I'm tired now though, still have to do ECU stuff, but I can do that at home with Manz and doggs and boy and kitten, surrounded by comfort. And without wearing teacher shoes.

All in all, it wasn't a disaster of a day, just a long one. Class sizes are small due to computer error- either they will stay small (Yay!) or mushroom into monsters (ick)... I feel guilty when I have small classes though- am used to ginormous classes which are easier in a way. In large classes I can just give directions, be stricter... in small classes I get distracted (Kennedy and boob implants) or have a difficult time with the more formal aspects of instruction. It will resolve itself though- I know I am a good teacher, just need to get rolling.

Ghost in the Attic! oooOOoooo

An old abandoned house, out in the middle of the country. Big oak trees, tumble down barn, door swinging open... who could resist? Not me...

On the way to pick up Grendel I go through all these back roads, and since they were going to be late I had some time to spare. Close to Harrell's there is a triangle road division, surrounded by corn fields- nothing else around. In the triangle there are the big oaks, a yard overgrown with Johnny-jump-ups and Queen Anne's lace, and a Gothic cottage. It's brick and wood, has a gable and an arched doorway... and the door was open.

The inside of the house was bare and sturdy- five rooms down, two up. Hardwood floors (some covered with peeled-off linoleum- ew), plaster walls. Built in bookcases. I could so live there! Upstairs was empty- and the attic door was open. Attic floor had castoffs like most attics- stray single shoes, assorted tiny toys, escaped rubbish... and over in the corner- a GHOST!!! Bright white but not so spooky....

Squirt

This morning the doggs were carrying on like crazy. woof woof woof. They settled down after a bit, but when we were headed out on our Saturday adventures, they started up again. woof woof woof woof woof.... Manz went around back- just in case their was a yard monster- and found that they were all upset over this tiny kitten. Bear chased him down into one of Max's ginormous holes under the torn bush, and now they weren't sure what to do. (We all know that kittens are really dangerous yard monsters in disguise).

Well, the man put on his leather gloves, crawled back into the thorn bush and reeeeaaaached down the hole. Up came the kitten- he looks to be about 4, maybe 6, weeks old. Tiny. Blackish brownish, white chest, little white belly. Green green eyes (look close at the photo- the kitten's eyes, the man's shirt and the man's eyes are all the same green). I went in to get some tuna and water, then went to put the tuna can up- by the time I was back the kitten had a name- Squirt.

So off to the new Walmart to check with our neighbor lady Linda (she has cats) to make sure it wasn't one of hers...it wasn't. Time then for Kitten Chow, a litter box, kitty litter that is not clay (we got the silica gel kind, I'm allergic to clay) and now we have a kitten. Max will have to take his benedryl's, and we will have to go the vet Monday for shots, and I wasn't planning on kitten at all.. but... he is little and cute, he already loves the man and cuddles up in the beard, purr purr purr. He likes me ok, to- but it's nothing compared to the mananimal magic.

But if he brings home any zoo animals, I'm putting my foot down. Not fond of camels, nope, not at all.

Jazzman

Date night! After a long day at school, I come home and dinner is ready (and wonderful!) and the manz has a present for me~ we had seen these funky folk-art guitar things in Myrtle Beach. They were blanks of wood, cut out, painted and covered with stuff... I have been talking about wanting to make one ever since.

Well, the manz not only cut out a blank, but a creative one- a heart shaped guitar with hearts all along the neck- awesome! Here he is playing it- I can't wait to get creative with it- fun, fun, fun.

Then we headed out for the last concert in the park for the summer- a jazz band that was mostly family (mum, dad, three boys plus another fellow that played all the brass) They were fantastic- very smooth and the woman had that kind of voice- resonate and able to go deep or up soft and breathy, the type of music that makes you think of lounges with martini's and high heels... very 'crime story'.

The jazzman here is playing air guitar on his sax- he also played the flute, and the floating sax, which looks like a silver clarinet.... manz sang along to some of the songs (some girl) which makes me happy- I love it when he sings.... going to miss the summer concerts, but I might be able to persuade him to keep singing all year long...

Happenstance

Happenstance it was that Charles had a gift for me yesterday~ he brought me an onyx sea turtle, of all things. Without knowing the turtle dream (I tell my dreams everyday, but not all of them- the man can only take so much). But it fits and creates a sort of echo, a sign of something meant.

Today is the first day of school, and last night, this morning I am full of... something. Anxiety? yes and no because it is nothing that I haven't done a million times before, and nothing much is happening for the next three days except endless meetings. Excitement? yes, but it is all balled up with wanting to get things done and doing what they want... blah blah blah. Tired of talking about it, tired of thinking about it. Summer's over, get on with the program, another shift in seasons, another day. I'm going to be doing this for the next 16 years at least....

That's a long time and no time. And then what? Haven't a clue- like the turtles, I swim to shore every year, crawl up on land, hatch a new batch of young ones. Go back to the sea. Do it again. What do turtles do when they retire? They live forever- barring mishaps- and I am fair confident that I will live a very, very long time. (Grendel had best have a good job to support me).... I'm only at the half-wayish mark, still have far to go. Still excited every day- good excited/ bad excited, point is that I get worked up about life, and all it's little things. Sometimes it wears me out, sometimes I get so wound up that I can't unwind and I end up babbling (like now. ya think? maybe two hours of sleep last night, and I'm a champion sleeper.... but I finally got warm enough without stealing *all* the blankets) I love the man and sometimes I wear him out, but he is patient and good and listens and tells me when I am out of orbit. I will spin back to center, spiral down and slow.... but never, ever stop.

There's a song he likes, about how one person is steady and still while the other one is always in motion. I like the song because I recognize that aspect of us- he is steady and calm, the eye of the hurricane. (guess what part I am). Without the wind, the eye would not move. Without the eye, the wind would not be focused. Together, we are unstoppable.

Me and the Sea~

it makes me want to write a poem, a manifesto, to draw and paint and make things, to walk for hours and stay forever. I have never met anyone who was as passionate about the sea as I am, and that is the right word because I want to know it, the names of all the creatures, who they are and what they do- the temperament of the waves and winds, the rhythm of the shore. I recognize something in it, it is my place and I have loved it since I was a child, dreamt of it, longed for it, channeled that desire into science and study, into art and poetry and music and endless driving.

A friend once said, "we get to the places we need to go" and that is a truth to be told, and just when I am flying apart- when every molecule is so stirred into frenzy- just then I found my way back to the sea. On the last day of summer I let myself go in the waves, floating, diving, tasting the water and feeling the incredible pressure of a wave bearing you down to the sand. Reminders of mortality and play, how thin the illusion of control we have over nature. Lovely.

I mostly walked the beach, found clear quartz rocks and dark cloudy ones, perfectly smooth and round and small like little moons. Keyhole limpets like tiny volcanoes- I have never found so many, and it makes me wonder what disrupted their world. Parts of purple shells, three pieces of sea glass, two brown and one clear, a ghost crab and the burnt orange specked shell of a blue crab. I saw a moon jelly, and a herring gull with a bill full of fish, tiny sandpipers, crows looking for scraps.

People were there to of course, young girls in bikinis, Marines drinking beer, families- two black boys doing handsprings up and down the beach like windup toys. Umbrellas of every color. Women reading and walking and talking, men dozing in chairs pretending to fish. Doggs. I smile at everyone, but I talk to the doggs. Little doggs with bright leashes, bull doggs dressed up with bandannas, the brace of Jack Russells with muzzles on. They are hot- panting, sweating and not allowed in the water-

A sea change and I'm feeling something, remembering this part of me that I have ignored all season. I love this. I can move and breathe and think, walk and find and swim and be. This is much cheaper than therapy, and I am grounded, filled with power and ideas, words. And I want to keep it.

Yesterday Charles brought me a shell, and it reminded me- he knows a bit about me and the sea, and I love him for that to, because he knows but doesn't *know*- it's a hard thing to understand. Barbie feels it with the mountains, Uncle Don did with the desert. It's the home of your heart, terrain of the soul. And last night I dreamt again of the sea, and a great turtle washed up on land struggling to return although it was falling apart (I wasn't the turtle, I was wanting the bones of the turtle. I thought it was dead and was surprised to find out it was still living........)

So, a Quest. With a capital Q, for a quest is a question, one you may not know you are asking yourself until you begin to remember the answer. A discovery, recovery, a turning about back to the source in order to move on. In computer terms, to reboot. And so, my quest. Because I missed this. Because it missed me. I am going to a different beach each month for a year. Not so big a deal because I live on the coast, but big-a-deal because I will have to give time to it, and movement. Because I want it, it will be, and I will be the sounder for it.

Last day of Summer

Last day of summer- school starts tomorrow. As usual, I've a combination of excited (about the new year, fresh start and all that) and sad (will miss the summer- where did it go?) ... it is also our Walmart's last day..the new super one opens tomorrow, which will be grand. But I'll miss our 'small-mart' with it's quirky leftover stuff, and our paint-aisle-of-love.

So today- what to do? Charles is at work, I should be working on the computer, but I am anxious and edgy and dying to go swimming or something. Haven't been to the beach all summer- have been busy, traveling, occupied with home and school then sick with shingles- and I miss it. Have been dreaming about it constantly for the past few nights, not any beach in particular, but the taste of the water, the feel of the sand, finding the treasures uncovered by waves. It is so much a part of me that my heart hurts without it- I am thinking of going today, but the drive is long, and I am full of nerves, don't know if that would calm them or if just working would calm them. I work to much. We'll see.

Seven Bridges Road

First, the disclaimer- I did not take this picture, just found it on the net. It is a photo of one of the many bridges that cross the Tar River in Rocky Mount, NC.

Reason for it is, is that I am obsessing about a mystery this morning, one that will become the nexus for part of my next digital studio work. For those unfamiliar with my 'art' art- that not made for family, consumers or as school examples- my 'art' art focuses on telling the stories of those who cannot. Something that is described in cultural anthropology as the role of the gravedancer. The gravedancer's job is to tell the stories of lives so they would not be forgotten- mostly, it is remembrances, like when you sit around the kitchen table and speak of 'remember the time when-'... that wakes a bit of the persons life, weaves it into yours, creates eternity through stories.

People who are not remembered, or who die unknown, or unresolved are the ones most in need of gravedancing- otherwise they become ghosts. While ghosts are not necessarily a bad thing, it is better for the souls to settle and rest, and telling their stories helps them to do that. *That* is what I do with my 'art' art, I try to tell the stories, help the souls to settle, knowing they are unforgotten. Be it superstition or be it what you will, it fills up part of me, lets me have an illusion at least of doing something. Time forgotten- art is more than pretty-on-the-wall.

So the mystery being the murders of Seven Bridges Road in Rocky Mount, NC, which is a rather dismal place. I have only been to the town a few times, and not the best section- lots of abandonment, disarray- no offense as I am sure that there are nice sections, but it seems an easy place to lose hope. In Rocky Mount, for the past few years, women have been disappearing. Lost women, poor, black, workers in the sex trade, addicts- women few people miss except those who love them. See who they are beyond the labels. Nine women all together- 3 missing, 6 dead, one of which who does not have a name. Murdered and dumped out on Seven Bridges Road, out in the woods and cotton fields, close to the place called Gethsemane. Curious.

I wonder about this. Not just the mystery, but the despair that turns someone into dust, that someone can just drop out of life without there being follow up, without someone looking for them, asking why? where did they go? what happened? How could so much time pass before someone realized what is going on? (In Vancouver it took decades and over 60 missing women before they found Pickton) I don't mean to be depressing- actually, the opposite. When something is noticed, attention can be paid and the issue resolved, steps taken towards prevention. Before tv, songs were made of this type of event, becoming cautionary tales, a memorial and warning all in one. Now there are movies, video, blogs, live feeds... important thing is to remember. Learn. Pass it on.

Summer Hibernation

It's the last Saturday of summer vacation... I should be at the beach, or out having one last adventure, or at the very least accomplishing the twenty kabillion chores that I must do before school starts for real. (I did turn the washer on today- it's a start)... seriously, not to be to whiny, but the shingles + medicine are kicking my butt. So today I spent in full out hibernation, freezing although it is August, and burrowing into bed. And apparently piling pillows on my head for some reason- Charles took this during one of my endless naps. (we need to have a little chat about me and 'unprepared' pictures!)

He has taken exceptional care of me all day- fixing toast and hamburgers (hold the horns, it's good to go!) and letting me watch silly movies when I am awake (Princess Diaries and Surfer Dude with Matt McC) . I feel vaguely useless- I really do have a million things to do- but I am supposed to rest, rest, rest. and destress. So today is the day for that... tomorrow if need be, but hopefully it will be mostly slept out today. (Manz gotta love me- sleeping beauty I am not....)

Some of us....

are just not cut out for 'professional dress'. Like Pippi Longstocking (in the picture) I am comfy in my old skirts and flipflops (or chucks, or boots)...anything else and I start to deconstruct.

So, yeah, I went to the Urgent Care Tuesday- shingles it is, now am properly medicated and went back to Raleigh all medicined-up and painted pink with calamine lotion. Now, Tuesday when we were leaving the DPI building, I was properly attired in one of my new skirts (the blueberry one) and wearing heels, earrings. Well, it was the end of the day, rush hourish, and the streets around the capitol are busy busy. Nice motorists stop to let us cross the street...and right in the middle of the street my heels go one way, I another and I end up tip-over- teakettle. Nothing broke, just a icky skinned knee, skinned elbows and skinned toes (who'd a though you could skin your TOES?) and my dignity shattered.

So Wednesday I am back in my comfy skirt (another new one from Texas) but no more heels. Apparently my body became confused, started thinking shingles was an allergy, and I proceeded to break out in NEW blotchy places all over my FACE, neck, and other parts not suitable to mention on a G-rated blog. .... By the end of the day yesterday, I was looking a whole lot like Fiona-the-Ogre (from shrek).... back to the dr. today.... more medicine, oatmeal baths and everything is starting to fade (thank-god)... and I got a tasmanian devil bandaid for my steroid-shot place.... poor charles, I'm not sure he was ready for *this* look, but he has been a good sport, came with me to urgent care and to my zillion trips to the Wal-mart pharmacy.... checks on me when I disappear into the bath for an hour with a beer and a book. He is a long suffering man, this one~ but he takes good care of me even when I'm whiny and ogre-ish. Can't ask for a better prince charming!

MIA

I'm not really mia, I'm just in Raleigh. At the DPI (department of public instruction) working on the state curriculum for art. Well, *leading* the secondary group. Point is, I can't leave. I *have* to be here. All day yesterday, all day today, all day tomorrow (starting at 8am). I'm driving back and forth everyday (state budget cuts mean they are not happy about springing for hotels... you pay, they reimburse part of it. Sorry, can't do that). Anyway- the meetings are BUT

My body is rebelling and I broke out in shingles on Sunday. So I am covered in an icky rash (mostly on the waist) which luckily isn't visible.. there are some spots on my neck... but it ITCHES like crazy. So here I am, trying to look all professional (dressed up with heels, earrings) and trying hard not to squirm or excuse myself to the rest room to much... the only thing that helps with the itching is the 3b combination: bath + benedryl + beer. But as I can't do that in public, I am taking benedryl and putting on biofreeze, which helps the itching for some reason. (I know that it is probably not a good idea to put it on a rash, but there isn't much choice at the moment. It's either that or rip my clothes off in the middle of the state department, which would not bode well for future employment)....

Everyone says that the pain will start soon (don't you just *love* feeling bad and people happily tell you- just wait, it's going to hurt like crazy. Or my aunt had it and had to be hospitalized. The joy.)

Easy-Bake

Yes, maybe one of these *would* help my cooking skills- seriously though, baking is easy. I can do bread (bear steals it), cookies, cake, pie... anything that is yummy and not-on-the-diet. (yes, am back to the diet. Combination of raised insurance, doctor saying it 'wouldn't hurt', and me not liking the way I look in photos much...) anyhoo, with non-bakery foods the manz is still a better cook than I. (as voted by Grendel. When boy smells food, he magically appears from his room... it goes something like this: sniff...sniff...sniff......sniff...sniff. "What's this?" "Whose cooking?" if man says he is, the response is "How soon till dinner?" If I'm cooking, it's "Well.... what *is* it? I mean, what all is *in* it? Is it boy-food?") now, I have been cooking boy/man food when I cook, can't help it that I get 'creative' every now and again.

But still- I remember my ezbake oven- it was yellow, and we would get it out and put it on the counter at Headacher. (on the right side of the counter- I remember the oddest stuff). I loved the little boxes of cake mixes with little boxes of icing... and it was wonderful even though it was really a half-raw cake with wet sugar on top. You can't really bake a cake with a lightbulb very successfully- especially if it is child waiting for the cake to be done and 15 minutes is a lifetime. (I remember eating it with a spoon...) Later I graduated to other cakes, and Pete-the-Greek in Califorina gave me my first cookbook of my own- the Betty Crocker's guide to cakes (or something) after I made my first 'real' cake- a cherry chip from a mix. It was pink and lopsided and a bit odd, but I was hooked. I made cakes, cookies, pies, muffins, cobblers... all manner of things. I got so carried away that I worked in a bakery for awhile (Harris Teeter in Charleston) but mainly did donuts and the decorating part. (I can still make a mean sugar rose!) I made the cakes for my first wedding, Layla's wedding in Boone, and Melissa's wedding at the beach. Don't think I am doing *that* again as I no longer have the giant cake pan, and *this* wedding (whenever it is? mystery of the century!) it would be nice to not have to do that. I want to just have fun, all sorts of fun, at this one- so it may just be banana pudding with slowly sinking figurines for festivity. At least everyone will have their banana quotient for the day....

Let me tell you something...

Here we are at Barbie's house- we had a wonderful time and I think- guess- that Charles was a bit taken at how much Barbie and I are alike in some things.

We talk all the time, like throw rugs, dislike curtains, hang odd stuff in trees (she hangs glass apples, I hang teacups), love books, have notes from Daddy in the kitchen, think white walls are perfect, but choose 'colors' like pale celery, off-white, beige to be 'daring'... lust after red leather couches, kinda listen to our fellows but tend to do what we want to anyway (thus the picture), love doggs and spoil them rotten, think ice cream is perfectly fine for lunch, go to bbq restaurants and eat more vegetables than bbq, dislike banana pudding unless it is the 'real deal', tend to be excitable (ya think?) etc. etc. etc.

So it was an adventure in meeting-the-family, but we all seemed to 'click' and had a wonderful time. We went down to the market in the city (where one of the vendors from long ago actually remembered me! said I hadn't 'changed a bit' so either he was 'being nice' or I've always looked older and heavier (boo) or I magically reverted to 20 (don't think so). Anyway, the market, ice cream, then out to bbq later and an outdoor concert at Monkes Corner.

In addition to the festivities, we just sat and talked forever and ever. Brought home a million plants (Thanks Mr. Thomas!), had a grand time in the car all the way there and all the way back. When we got home, it was back to the real world- playing catchup and the phone has apparently been out for days (if you can't reach us, call my cell or grendel's cell), the haircutting adventure and the internet went down and I ended up having to go to Raleigh to meet with my ECU boss-lady. Which was fun, because meeting with her and Hailey (the other TA) includes coffee, lunch and shopping-as-a-team building-experience. (Barnes and Nobles)

Now the net is back up, we are home- at least for today- Grendel goes to SC tomorrow, I'm in Raleigh again Monday, Tuesday, Weds..... school starts the next wends. (bleah. I'm just getting used to summer). The mice have decreased (but we caught two more snakes- one in the studio, one on the porch), the house is looking good and things are coming together. Everything always works out for the best, it really does.

New Hair!

Been a few days since posting- trip to SC (wonderful fun! Yay!) then some school/life/etc. ick, then boy decided to get his hair cut... time for a change.

So we went to a salon in Wilmington- (yes, it has leopard print carpet) and the 'support group' showed up- Kyle, Suzie, Liz and Pepper- and off it came. most of 24"- the last photo is one of the pony tails- I admit to being sentimental enough to keep one (I've always loved his hair) and the other was more than enough for locks of love to use, so everyone is happy.

The new cut will take some getting used to- at least for me - I dreamt about my hair forever when it was cut short.. I still miss the length. I do remember it feeling lighter, but I liked the weight of it... but the boyo is growing up, changing and change is critical- without change, there is no growth, and I am proud of the boy for being brave enough to change-