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.