8.18 Day 73 Small City, Big Connections

If you asked me 20 years ago what attracted me to Duluth, it would have been, unequivocally, "The Lake".
If you ask me today, it would be yet much more. Not that "The Lake" has lost any of it's appeal; it hasn't. But a city this size affords opportunities not found in other places. You know just enough people for it to be a palatable, even fun, experience; but not so many that everyone is in everyone's business...
Where else will you almost always have someone you know drive by if you have car trouble and need a ride? In a bigger city, I'd never know or have access socially to folks holding such positions as director of the art institute, etc. Yet in this town; those things happen.
A great lake and a great place to live!

8.17 Day 72 Electromagnetic Radiation, WiFi, and Technology

I am somewhat of a techno-geek. Not to the extent of many, mind you, but enough.
Dr. Sue shared something Friday that made me think twice; even though in the back of my mind I should know this: electromagnetic fields are bad for you. Just like cigarette smoke, aspartame, and transfats. Flying and chest x-rays (or flying WHILE having a chest x-ray!?) provide low doses, which, while damaging, are not lethal. WiFi, on the other hand, "shatters" your DNA. "Shatters". No mincing words here, Dr. Sue!
I have no intention of going "cold turkey" on technology anytime soon; though I do spent an inordinate amount of time with it. But I did turn the WiFi off yesterday....

8.16 Day 71 Frogs, Snakes, and Tomatillos

Wow.
Back in June, the garden consisted of small plants and tall sticks, each staking out it's territory. From a distance, all you could see were the dowels poking up, like "x marks the spot." Now, the dowels are gone - vanished 'neath a sea o'green!! It's lush and junglelike, with hundreds (yes, hundreds) of hanging green tomatoes and peppers Lanterns of tomatillos spread across the soil like chandeliers on green arms. Pumpkins, squash and watermelon lurk under a carpet of giant leaves. Grapes are blushing purple. Potato greens are spreading and falling, like bowling pins - the potatoes digging themselves out of the ground.
While weeding, I just happened to look straight ahead and directly into the thoughtful eye of a tree frog. He was crouched firmly on the leaf stalk of one of the giant sunflower plants, a long dark stripe hanging out of his mouth. His tongue? An insect, half-digested? His throat gurgled as his eye kept watch. The green - oh. A shimmery greeny-yellow; like the nailpolish I bought this summer. What a gorgeous creature.
Pat startled a snake, or "Bill", as he fondly identifies all snakes (after a principal who was particularly reptilian in manner). It zipped through the blackberries and slid like a rope up into the chives.
Thousands of greens and textures and shapes. An artist's dream.

8.15 Day 70

8.14 Day 69 Pasture Prayer: A Dreamsicle Moon

Through the traffic of summer (can you say "stopped on the freeway for 45 minutes?"), I finally made it to the cabin tonight, en route home. Just enough daylight left - and it is waning quickly! - to drop off a few items in the garage.
As I pull away, the pasture falls into green-gray shadow. I can almost feel the deer and coyotes watching from the wood. The eagle and turkey vultures have perched for the night. The owls are stirring. The grasses wave almost imperceptively in the darkening light.
I pull over the hill, the engine of the car echoing gently off the goldenrod-blanketed hill. There it was: a low, huge, velvety-orange-yellow moon; a huge soft cheese; a perfect circle of soft glow.
I sucked in my breath and stopped still. Prayers. Thanksgiving. Love. Perfect peace. God's calm breath. Beyond church; beyond worship.
A perfect union of God and creation. A moon-wish.

8.8 Day 63 Polli-Nation

The garden is a sprawling, fecund, damp cacophony of greens. It's quite literally buzzing today - bees and wasps of every size and shape are having their annual convention there, flitting from tomatillo to tomato to eggplant to squash blossom. The "buzz" of activity is real....

8.7 Day 62 My Stuff's In One Place!!!

Yeehaw! For only the second time ever in 21 years, my teaching supplies are now ALL IN ONE PLACE! My assignment this coming year is at Woodland Middle School - ONLY at Woodland Middle School. I had to move things OUT of Homecroft TO Garfield this spring, then over the past several days, OUT of Garfield and INTO Woodland! YIPPEEEE!!! They even have my SMARTBOARD in. So, despite the fact that several very cool jobs have come up - a Professorship at UWS, and the State of Minnesota Visual and Media Arts Coordinator position -- I am content to not have to totally reorganize at this point.
I'm pretty sure I've decided on my PhD program; will wait for that opportunity on the horizon... Purdue.

8.6 Day 61 Pinning Down Time

Yknow, blogging is kind of like eating healthily...once you goof up, it's harder to get back on track.... Yet since I lost momentum, the time seems to have flown even faster! Getting that daily thought it has seemed to slow time enough to at least pin it down.
A rare day (mostly) at home...I was able to get ahold of some of the maintenance guys, pick up one load of my teaching stuff, and get it over to Woodland. Unfortunately, none of the custodial staff could figure out how to get the screen off the window, so rather than lift things easily through the window, I had to haul all, load by load, down the hall and up the elevator from the other end of the buildng...
Visited with Mamer today. Love that gal - she is the kindest, warmest, smartest human being imaginable. I am so lucky to know such people!

7.29 Day 53 Our Day in Court

Back in May, Pat was at the gas station down the block. He'd filled up and was waiting in line to pay when there were some loud "oh oh OH!"s from the waiting crowd. "What?" Pat asked. "That blue car just hit that white car" the guy in line told him. It was OUR white car - our Toyota RAV4. A few conversations quickly indicated that the driver was young, inexperienced, apologetic, uninsured, and had no driver's license. But she WAS willing to make payments to us, at least until we sent her the estimates- after which she would not answer phone calls.
Today was our day in court. We came, we registered, we sat, we waited. We explained, we were given the judgement in our favor.
Now what?
If she has any kind of job, we can pay more money to garnish her wages (We already had to pay a $75 filing fee...) If she applies for credit, this issue will come up. But, if she's on public assistance or jobless -which she probably is as she is in her early 20's, lives with her boyfriend and has 4 children - there is nothing we can do.
We have to take care of our vehicles - we can't afford to go through them very fast! We fix things. It costs money. We didn't have children younger; could barely afford to do it now. We pay auto insurance and license fees. We're sympathetic and flexible; Amber could have paid us a little at a time.
If you know Amber Dorman, she owes us nearly $900.
What a pain!
We spent the rest of the day cleaning off the front porch, hauling some furniture to the cabin, etc. A quick trip to school this morning revealed that HALF of my classroom is waxed...

7.27 Day 51

I am delinquent....it's been days since I posted. I've been busy on my summer vacation -- ya know? Disappointing, but there have just been more critical things to do than post!
Today was the first day of "no obligations" - at least not in the form of work. I went to school, cleaned up some of the Mess of Room 242 - and made arrangements for the floors and windows with the custodian. Went out for a lunch with my hubby, a few locals in the midst of tourists at Va Bene; then worked at home on state conference stuff; then dashed off to Sustainable Twin Ports council meeting....
Walk with Pat later..

7.24 Day 48 failure and retrying...

ok. I know I missed a few days. I actually left art club on Monday to rush home, where Pat had prepared some dinner for me to take to my Sustainable Twin Ports meeting, after which I got home and went for a walk with Pat, after which I fell echausted into bed, after which I woke up and fled for art club, which I left slightly early and flew out of two harbors back home, stuffing things into bags and boxes and lighting out as quickly as possible for the Cities - flying quickly on dry pavement and slowing to a crawl in intermittent heavy rain...

7.17 Day 41 Shiverin' on the Shore

When I first moved to Duluth, my cousin MJ gave me some great advice: never take your mittens out of the car! Boy, was she right about that! I think there were several times in the last few weeks when I had my car air conditioner - and my car heather - on in the very same day.
This week's end was rough. Temperatures have been lows in the 40's and highs in the 50's. Today the wind wasn't quite so bad, so I made it fine with winter socks, tennis shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt, sweatshirt and vest. Yesterday I got pretty darn cold; it was damp and rained most of the afternoon.
We sell a lot of sweatshirts to the tourists..

7.16 Day 40 omigod; over half over

OK. Back to school stuff was featured in last Sunday's paper, which I just got a chance to look at, and my entry says Day 40 -- that is really an 'omigod'.
What the heck?
Where has the time gone? I have not even been IN my dining room since summer vacation began... Do things really start to speed up that much when you get older?
I guess I have some excuses. Work, work and more work, and not being able to say "no". In June, I was still wrapping up moving two classrooms, the Homecroft one and my own, and then trying to muck out Woodland's art room after I found that would be my position for net year. Lots of time there devoted to seedling and getting the garden planted, at the expense of the garden here in town..There was an AEM meeting in Rochester, and shortly thereafter, I left with Mom for a weeks' travel to Grand Rapids for the NAEA Western Region meeting. Returned home and only had one week until Summerblue began. Still hanging out there: finishing curriculum work and school stuff, finishing a couple of portfolio reviews -- the list goes on...
I have looked forward to working on personal health, getting my house and garden together and presentable, and more - but so far, I'm just keeping my head above water.
When will I learn to say "no"??

7.15 Day 39 Living On The Globe

As I've driven home from Summerblue Arts this past week and a half, I have marveled again and again - in between dodging fast deer and slow tourist cars - how amazing it is to live in this place. Seeing that vast inland sea stretch out in all of it's magnificent hues is truly a calming thing.

I love the idea that I can point to the tip of Lake Superior on a globe, even devoid of the names of continents, states, and countries, and say "I live right here."

I'd be hard-pressed to live anywhere without such a global geographic feel to it; after life here on the Big Puddle.

7.14 Day 38 Rush, or The Power Of Water

One of my favorite cool things in Duluth is rushing water.
When it rains, everything of course goes downhill. No wonder our gutters are hollowed out from years of draining!
Tonight our drought was relieved by a hefty thunderstorm. Water, water everywhere - rushing at lightspeed to Lake Superior...
Down behind the Co-op, a little creek pops above ground for about the length of a house. It's between the alley and 4th Street, and between a house and a parking lot. The walls around it are high; no doubt there is a basement just feet away. When it rains this hard, Brewery Creek grows from a trickle to a torrent. I love to stop by and see the Niagara-like effect; hear the rush of water flowing down. Sometimes, the water can't be bottled back up in the receiving culvert once it escapes into the air, and 4th Street becomes glossed over with a wide running river...
About a block away, another little creek pops above ground for the length of part of a neighbor's lot. Again, with the wet, the creek rises nearly to the lawn, spilling away. Were anything to get in it's way, it'd be swept into the culvert and out to sea...
All day today at Summerblue we were damp...the paper, the tables, our clothing... I had to have the heater on in the car on the way home...
That's Duluth - waterfalls when it rains, and the heater in July...

7.13 Day 37 So Many Tasks, So Little Time

OK, I've blown it this time. SEVERAL days have gone by without a post. I've THOUGH the entry, but not made it; mostly due to lack of internet connectivity but also due to some general laziness on my part. I've done it in my head.
It's overwhelming what there is to get done. Perhaps I should just move away, and leave it all behind!?

7.12 Day 36 The Perfect Summer Day

Warm, but not too much so. Windy, but mildly; a breeze.
The trees sway to the wind's flutes. Birds soar, dragonflies flit. The occasional lazy woodtick attempts a foothold. Potatoes push up their green crowns, spilling out onto the ground - like the cartoon hen that rises higher as the eggs pop out underneath her! Carrots shoot green ladders into the sky.
In the cabin, the faint hum of electricity underlines the forest sounds from the open doors. The radio drones the news; blending with the insect sounds from outdoors. The smell of cooking food dances with pine, lake and dirt - my favorite smells.
Our friends glide across the water in the canoe. We watch lazily from the dock. An eagle soars above; a bluejay below.
It's the perfect summer day.

7.11 Day 35 Mulberries

What's bumpy, wet, and purple all over?
Mulberries. Hundreds of thousands of mulberries. On the ground, in the grass, on the outdoor chairs, in the bellies of squirrels and birds, on my knees and fingers, on Mom's carpeting.... Mulberries.
Mom never planted the tree. It grew for years, and suddenly one year she noticed the berries. A neighbor indicated that she had a lovely mulberry tree, and the harvesting began! She lays old sheets out on the ground to collect the berries, which fall like hail when the wind blows. One year, she hung old umbrellas upside down in the branches to collect the berries. The tree bears for several weeks; blanketing everything in purple.
Last year, she sold mulberries to the Boathouse. I made wine with some. We ate, and ate and ate. Today, our knees and fingers were stained purple, indicative of our efforts under the Mulberry Tree.

7.10 Day 34 Muy Amigos

Pat and I always enjoy our trips to the little Mexican restaurant in Robbinsdale; very close to Bertha's house. It's called "El Toro", and has a sister (hermana!) restaurant in nearby Crystal, Minnesota.
We've been going there for several years, after it became apparent that FINALLY a restaurant was going to "stick" in this plagued location, off of a busy four-lane. El Toro has definitely "stuck". We often find it nearly full, with patrons that range from young families to seniors, Hispanics to African Americans and Asian Americans, and beyond. And no wonder: $5 Chicken Natchos with Beans. FIVE DOLLARS. You could easily pay that for a cup of coffee, much less a glass of wine. Or even beer!
Since we always have the same thing, our "muy amigos" have gotten to know us quite well. They are patient with my Spanish, and laugh at Pat's bastardizations of it. They tease us about driving down from Duluth to eat, and patiently hang back on late nights when we are the last customers in house. They adore Bertha, and make fresh coffee for her. They indulge her orders of "just beans"; which she loves.
I saved up all day to go eat at El Toro tonight. Ah; summer, natchos con frijoles & pollo, y mi muy amigos...

7.9 Day 33 On Finding Old Friends: Facebook-style

My social network site has gleaned many wonders....
Jan, an old bicycling friend from many 500-mile bike rides ago, turned up after years gone by.
Mark, my second roommate in St. Paul - 574 Simpson Apartment 2. Again, lost track; now located in Oconto, Wisconsin.
Tim, my college and post-college-work buddy; an amazing musician and creative soul; last seen singing at my wedding. Turned up alive and well in Minneapolis.
Many Hannus; the younger generation: Randy, Pat, Donovan...what a fun way to share some genealogy!
Art teacher friends, from far and away...
Kayla, long-lost college roomie; located in the Twin Cities
Mary Ann, my mother's 80-some year old friend from Florida
Tomo and Tai Chi; who of our favorite Japanese students
and more.
Just making that 'human' connection, even electronically, is great fun in such a large world!!
gotta love it.
Chilly at Summerblue today. LOVE the kids; what fun to work with such a small group!! And who can beat working outdoors, mere yards from 10% of the world's fresh water?

7.8 Day 32 Wind, Water & Waves

I've been teaching Summerblue Arts for several years now; an Art, Music, Theatre and Dance camp - all outdoors - on the shores of Lake Superior north of Two Harbors.
It's not that I don't have enough to do already. I just really enjoy this camp, and the opportunity to be creating, outdoors, for three weeks in this setting.
Despite the fact that it's mid-July, the temp today was in the low 60's; with a nor-easter wind. It was downright chilly. You know what they say - when you live "up north", you don't take your mittens out of the car - ever.
Amazingly, while we adults absorbed the heat from the large boulders on the beach, there were kids who went SWIMMING in frigid Lake Superior....
I've vowed to go in, but not today!

7.6 Day 31 Miles to Go; or I Should Have Been A TruckDriver

I don't mind driving. At all. Just today I drove about 600 miles; from Duluth down to the cabin (to weed and water), to Bertha's (to weed, water and pick mulberries), to an AEM meeting in Apple Valley, to Brooklyn Center to set up the hotel for the fall conference, to Malmborg's to pick up some discounted herbs, to Bertha's again to pick her up, to Maple Grove to price printers and get art club Sharpies at Sam's Club, fabric for art camp at JoannFabrics, and to eat at PotBelly Restaurant, and then finally back to Duluth.
People sometimes marvel at the amount of time I am on the road. Truly, we are home very few weekends, ever. It's either Bertha's or the cabin or a state meeting. That might be why our house looks like it does!
Even on longer trips, like Route 66 or anything cross-country, I generally get to do the majority of the driving - just because I like it. I've wondered what it would be like to drive for a living....
Add that to the retirement list; in addition to opening my own restaurant: Drive an 18-wheeler.

7.5 Day 30 Happy Birthday, Dad

Fred Arnold Hannu passed away on May 27, 1973. I was 13. He was 51.
He was born on July 6, 1921, in Finlayson, Minnesota; son of Albert and Jenny Hannu (ne Koski).
I was always DADDY'S GIRL - - helping fix the car, doing outdoor things; fishing, being outside. He was my hero.
Mom, alone now for 36 years, found a typed note the other day, typed on our very old typewriter. It says (spaces included as they read):

Dea r Da ddy, I can not type very good , but I will write a ny how. Thank you for the dolor. I will spe nd it. I will buy a Christas present for you and Mother. YOU know w hat I might get. LOVE YOU De bbie

I can type better now, Dad. And believe me, if I could buy any present for you, I would be delighted. Mom is strong, funny and happy; though her body is sore from arthritis and fibro mylagia; her eyes require some surgery, and she has a pacemaker. She has been a heck of a trooper through it all.
I wish I couldv'e asked you questions about the war. About being wounded in northern Africa. About coming home and marrying Mom. About the Pine Lake Dance Hall and Moms little sailor suit! About your childhood and what you remembered. About your brothers, Grandpa and Grandma. About Barbie and I. And what you loved in our Mom.
Knowing that you were a 'gadget guy' and a great fan of Popular Science, I imagine that you would marvel at cell phones. The Internet. Outer space. Modern medicine. Nutrinos. Computers. Digital technology. I remember how you always wanted to build a plane, and fly to Maine - which held some interest and mystique for you. I remember how the electronics store in Robbinsdale used to call you up to try to find a particular part, when they didn't have one and you probably did.
I remember how you quit deer hunting, long before there were restrictions placed on the kill, because you feared that if we kept hunting such numbers the deer would die out.
I remember how you taught Mom to mix oil and gas for the lawn mower, so that she'd know how to use it. That was after your second heart attack and before your death.
I remember when we brought Tigger to North Memorial Hospital, so you could see him from your window in the heart unit. I remember that I wasn't allowed to go in to see you, because I was too young.
I remember how your flannel jacket smelled. The stubble of your beard. The smell of the Velvet pipe tobacco. Carrying down coffee to you in your basement ham radio chair. Cleaning your ears with a bobby pin - I still can't believe you let me! - while you watched TV.
I remember you tucking me in and saying my prayers at night.
I remember not crying at the funeral, and crying like a dripping faucet ever since.
Happy Birthday Dad. Miss you, still. LOVE YOU De bbie.

7.5 Day 29 Quintessential Summer

Gotta love it - those days when you feel like you're an actor in a movie... The scene: a Northern Minnesota lake cabin. The temperature? Perfect. Sunny, with a little breeze. The ambiance? Peaceful as can be. Greens, blues, soaring birds, sunning turtles. Plants that you can almost hear grow.
Pat and I set out in Dad's old fiberglass boat, with Pat's scavenged motor, en route to our neighbor's house for a little 4th of July neighborhood cheer. Me: clad in swintop, propped in the front of the boat, feeling like a beauty queen. All I missed was the lipstick. Pat: ever suave, amazingly white T-shirt for the Northwoods, grinning, driving the boat effortlessly. The hum of the engine, the prow cutting through the amber water, the gleam of a few other craft across the way.
Ah, summer.

7.4 Day 28 Freedom and Blowing Things Up

It seems an odd tribute to our democracy, I guess. Let's blow shit up!! "Rockets' red glare", yadda yadda...
Last night, at our peaceful cabin in the woods, I could have closed my eyes and felt more like I was in Afghanistan than Northern Minnesota. Pow! Blam! Fitzzzsss!
It wasn't really until after my experiences in Mexico and Nicaragua that I really considered some of what Americans take for granted. Things like "SuperAmerica" gas stations. Igniting rockets to celebrate freedom. Imagine what we'd have thought during the Cold War if the Soviets had "SuperUSSR" gas stations? Or blew up things in celebration? Maybe they do - I dunno.
I get amused by "freedom" - hey, you know what? That's the name of a gas station, too. Is there something patriotic about gas stations? Gas consumption, maybe? But anyone can toss that word around to mean anything. It truly needs some definition.
Take the guy selling bumper stickers at the Finlayson Fourth of July flea market. His wares were flush with redneck, testosterone-infused, illogical slogans; most of which I don't care to repeat. Wow. That's Freedom, for ya. Makes me want to go blow shit up.

7.3 Day 27 What's More Dangerous?

One neighbor has a concern that our Urban Woodchucks might be dangerous. He says that once, when dismantling a woodpile, he was charged by one. Our local animal trapper says they are peaceful and shy. Actions speak louder than words - I guess I've only see them as peaceful and shy. And despite fears that their underground network might damage our property, it appears that its unlikely.
I wish I felt as comfortable with Alaska Governor Sarah Palin. She announced today that she is resigning as Governor, and gave some rather cryptic reasons why. It would seem probable that she not end up as a presidential candidate; especially after 'quitting' the governorship. I'm quite sure that she has obtained a multimillion dollar offer from - oh , say, FOX TV; to have her own talk show or "news" show. There, she can be a vocal cheerleader for the uber right.
What's more dangerous? Sarah Palin or Urban Woodchucks? What's the old saying: "you can put lipstick on a woodchuck, but it's still a woodchuck.."
As FOX says: "We report, YOU decide!"

7.2 Day 27 Small Claims, Big Pain

A month or so ago, Pat was standing in line at the gas station down the block. The folks in line ahead of him were going "whoa, whoa whoa! Someone just hit that white car!" Pat looked outside, and it was HIS white car (our '98 RAV4) that had been hit - by a young woman backing out of a parking spot. She was very apologetic; and it turned out that she had neither car insurance nor a driver's license.
Pat recognized her name; turns out her grandmother used to clean for them when Pat was younger. The young woman suggested that perhaps she could pay a little bit at a time, and we mailed her some estimates. Subsequent phone calls: nothing. We found out that she has four children, and lives with her fiance'.
Today we finally wrapped up the business of filing in small claims court. Eventually, if this person tries to get a credit card, has a job, or tries to apply for a loan, it will catch up with her. In the meantime we eat the cost of the repair and the filing fee, and in reality - we may never get it back. If the woman doesn't work, receives public assistance or food stamps - there's not a thing that we can do. But if, within 10 years, she works or tries to get a loan, it can be garnished.
What a pain! I feel badly for the young woman, but at the same time, we have to take good care of our cars; as we need our Toyotas to last, basically, forever!
An vell.
School this AM - the carpenters have my SMARTBOARD installed and made my shelves for paper storage. Spent the afternoon on portfolio reviews and planting outside; including a bit of woodchuck observation...

7.1 Day 26 A Dead Lightening Bug on the Windshield, or Hope and Futility

Back in Minnesota, more insects seemed to be attracted to my windshield than in Michigan, Illinois, or Wisconsin. Maybe they favor the home-state cars? Just as it got thoroughly dark, I noted a large wet splat. It slid like an exclamation point down the windshield, and at the bottom, a speckley glow of yellow. A lightening bug! A KAMIKAZE lightening bug!
Those of you who know me well realize that I have an odd attraction to tragedy. A consuming concern for roadkill animals, for example. A penchant for predicting "the worst outcome" - whether it comes true or not (it usually doesn't). A dwelling on morbidity. Perhaps this comes from losing a parent at such a young age - if I am able to anticipate tragedy, it won't hurt so badly if it happens.
It so happened today that in the otherwise-idyllic roads of Door County, I ran over a chipmunk. Here's my usual brain process: it was an innocent creature, doing what it is supposed to do, minding it's own chipmunk business - and here come I - wiping out it's chipmunk life with one fell swoop. What of it's family? It's babies? It's mouthful of tender seeds? Then my tears roll out. Crazy, I know - but it's me.
Hope and futility. Futility and hope. I persist in reordering them.
R.I.P.; little ones.

6.30 Day 25 Delightful Mismatches

Hotels. There's the chain variety, where everything is neat as a surgical suite and just about as organized. There's the chain variety, where things have slipped a bit, and the experience can get downright disgusting. There's the Mom and Pop places that pay great attention to detail. And the ones who don't! And then there's the Retro And Always Was variety.
We are esconced in such an abode in Fish Creek, Wisconsin; in the Door County area (read: trendy vacation spot). Our small drive-up motel provided us with a rather large 'suite' with separate bedrooms, a television dated circa 1972, the same bathroom wall and floor tile as my mom's 1946 house, and nary a grounded outlet anywhere. For a mere $116/night.
Bertha fumes a little without the in-room coffee maker and a place to plug in her cell phone. I'm struggling a bit sitting down the block, using the WiFi in the car to avoid the ravenous mosquitoe (the "free" WiFi doesn't extend to the actual motel rooms...) But our room has "ambiance". Not the chic' resort kind, but the kind in my old aunt and uncle's house that we used to visit when I was a kid.
Add to that today's delights at the Three Seasons Restaurant, an aptly named place on the upper shore of Lake Michigan, near Manestique. We went there on the recommendation of a local and the food was truly great. I noticed with a mixture of humor and respect a poster of Rosie the Rivetor, up on the wall about the cup racks. The racks held the cafe's collection, carefully resting on their lips, at arms' length so the wait staff could easily reach them. The beauty of it all: very few of the cups matched. Some with burgandy bands, some with green. Some others a plain tan. A few darker silvery color, and a few odd ducks.
I LOVE it.
The world needs more mismatches. We are entirely too "Disney".

6.29 Day 24 Cats, a Bird and a 99-year-old

Agnes will be 100 years old in December. She's Bertha's cousin, and was like her sister when they grew up together in Minnesota's German community of Giese.
We went to visit today. Agnes lives ALONE, yes alone. Son Jim lives about a half hour away, and was there tilling the garden when we arrived. Until recently, a young couple - relatives - had lived with Agnes, but they recently moved away.
The house is neat and brick, with a front step far too deep for anyone over 65. Cats ran through the raspberry bushes and along the apple trees. Agne's bed is in the living room. We barely could see her there, curled and bony like a newborn deer. She didn't feel well today - unusual for her, said Jim. Perhaps she was so excited about our visit that she overdid it?
Throughout the conversation she listened and chimed in in her strong, clear voice from time to time. We offered a cookie; she ate it industriously - no teeth in while resting! She sat up a bit to drink some water, told me her "indoor" cats names: Molly and Dolly, and chimed in with comments on the conversations about relatives. I kept wishing she'd sit up and be perky, but she was a little foggy and sleepy. Her long grey hair was satiny, her tiny feet poking out from under the blanket. Agnes was always a very small woman; at this age she weighs only 84 pounds!
We left a trail of prayers and even a few teardrops as we drove away. Will this be the last time? The strength and fortitude of this tiny, powerful woman can be felt miles away. God heal her, mend her, and when the time is right, give her safe passage.

6.28 Day 23 Too Many Coasts; Too Little Time

Just think - Michigan has many coastlines! Lake Superior, Lake Michigan, Lake Huron, and Lake Ontario...
Our Michigan guests set up for us a gallery hop experience in the neighboring towns of Douglas and Sagatuck; two 'seaside' communities on Lake Michigan. The area was originally founded as "Singapore, Michigan" in the mid-1800's; the early settlers fully expecting it to become the next Chicago or St.Louis. The town boomed with the lumber industry; but when the trees were all gone it died quickly. The remaining settlers moved a bit away from the water on inlets from the big lake, which communities became Douglas and Sagatuck. Singapore, Michigan's most famous ghost town, lies on the shore beneath the dunes...
It was a cat day. One of the galleries had a large bronze cat called Fat Cat. A jewely store had a cat bed inside; when I inquired, the proprietor told me that Douglas was "out" and would be home later! S P O I L E D !! A southwestern gallery hosted a large cat tabby laying on the counter -- Butler! He had a clipped ear. I found out that he had been a feril cat caught in a trap - neuter - return sting; hence the clipped ear. Post-neuter, he hung out a lot in the family's garden. They fed him for over a year; and finally he went from ferile wild cat to household spoiled lap cat!
We drove out onto the forested dunes, bought some fresh strawberries, and went 'home' to Grand Rapids to pizza at Vitales...
Most of my colleagues were gone; just a few stragglers left tonight!

6.27 Day 22 Make The Most; or You Never Know...

Our main hostess in Michigan is a woman named Mary. She's been planning this workshop expereince for her 50 colleages for well over a year; gathering locations, figuring costs, getting sponsors, planning events, gatting sponsors, coordinating schedules; for a long, long time.
Just a week or so before the "event", Mary got a phone call. Her hubby had been motorcycling with a friend on Route 66; in western Oklahoma, when trajedy sprung. The heat had buckled the pavement; and even though Gary is a motorcycle safety instruction, the morning light prevented him from seeing one of the tar warps, and he flew -- up into the air, topsy turvy with bike.
Gary landed with a leg bent behind him, broken ribs, a shattered collarbone, and multiple injuries. Due to his companion and relatively new outpost LifeFlight services, he was reached in 15 minutes and airlifted to Oklahoma City, a transport that would have taken over two hours by ambulance. Mary got the call that the leg was in some trouble; she headed to OK from her home in Michigan.
When she arrived, it was apparent that it was much worse that she'd expected. The lower leg was mangled so badly that they had to amputate it. Despite vein grafts to get blood flow into the upper leg, the veins wouldn't take; and soon the upper leg had to be amputated as well. The shoulder had to be rebuilt. The OTHER leg was discovered to have multiple breaks as well. Blood clots began in the leg and lungs. All of this just as Gary was beginning to realize the extent of his injuries...
Gary was flow home 9 days after the accident; transferred from Oklahoma City to a Grand Rapids hospital. The ambulance transport first brought him to the wrong airport; then Gary was hungry, so the ambulance driver took him through the Arby's drive-through...
Mary arrived home yesterday, well into her event. 50 people dined at her house tonight, at her insistence and with the help and support of her friends. She's had 28 hours of sleep in 11 days...
Life is fleeting; we forget how quickly we can be gone or have our lives changed dramatically...
Keep Gary and Mary in your thoughts and prayers....

6.26 Day 21 Living Stories; and Living Things

I can't say enough good things about these people; my colleagues in Art Education. They are simultaneously the world's parents, counselors, sages, seers, doctors, psychologists, judges, juries, listeners, and challengers. They mend emotional wounds or know when one needs to be opened to let it drain. They know when to challenge thinking, and when to let it stew. They are constantly monitoring and adjusting the dials and levels that manage each individual students' life flight...
All one has to do is pull a few words out: rab the edge of a sentence or paragraph; and one can tease out a long string of story. It's amazing. I could listen for days.
This afternoon we visited Maijer Gardens. It's an outdoor sculpture park and botanical garden that shows up as #1 on the attractions list for Grand Rapids, Michigan. There are acres of gardens, woods, fens, waterfalls, prairies and ponds; many areas studded with sculpture. The effect is stunning - instead of catching a glimpse of a deer in a wooded area, one catches a glimpse of a sculptural form, and is drawn in to peruse it further. All of us, approximately 50 art education leaders from 15 states, huddled around a 24' high bronze horse to have our photo taken. Some of us are visiting with family members, turning a work experience into a 'vacation' opportunity, creating new layers of story.
Life meets art meets life generates story. My math solution for the day!

6.25 Day 20 * Big Audacious Goals (B.A.G.)

Deborah Reeve is amazing. As the current director of our national professional organization, the National Art Education Association, she has grabbed the bull by the horns - moving the organization quickly and professsionally into a new realm of advocacy, service and accountability. Our day at the NAEA Western Leadership Sessions and Meeting flew by quickly - all of the presentations were so GOOD; there was no time spent waiting for anything to end. Deborah, as always, has anticipated needs even to the point of providing a sheet that detailed where her presentation could be downloaded. She inspires - and not in a phony way. Her praise is genuine and acts as a catalyst for action. She is a model of an effective leader: professional and trusting with high expectations and clear goals.
I look at the assembly of art education leadership here, 14 stsates' worth, and see a good deal of age/wisdom and experience. People who can do. Deborah inspires them TO do.
Up her sleeve today: cloth bags printed B.A.G. - Big, Audicious Goal. Her compelling vision, which one could not help but share, to double our national membership.
We're with you, Dr. Reeve. How could we not be?

6.24 Day 19 * The Call of the Open Road, or: Driving Ms. Bertha

The Call of the Open Road; or Driving Miss Bertha
Mom is a hoot. I'm not sure how many 88-year-olds are actually willing to pack up their meds and blood pressure cuffs and canes and snack foods and hit the road for days at a time, but she is. Almost always. "Beats sitting at home", she says. And (the phrase we always tease her about), everything is "so INTERESTING!". No wonder she's the age she is - things continue to be interesting and lively; and there is so much more to explore!
Lest any of you think that Bertha is an anamoly, allow me to introduce Evelyn Maki (nee: Evelyn Ruotsinoya). Evelyn, who married into the family as did my mother, is a mere 84. She lives in St. Joseph, Michigan; and we looked her up after finding her address online. She was married to my dad' Aunt Olga's son, Clinton Maki. Mom hasn't seen or heard from Evelyn for years, yet her call was warmly welcomed. We spent part of the afternoon with this delightful lady, the oldest of her siblings at 83. Turns out she used to live with Clinton on the very block that Pat and I live on in Duluth; and that she graduated from high school in Litchfield with one of Mom's very good friends from the Cities (how many people are named Ruotsinoya, after all?). Evelyn gave us a tour of St. Joseph; from it's lovely long sandy beaches to its adorable downtown; replete with little Cape Cod-esque shops and cafes...
Tonight rendezvoused the the Western Region art teachers; from the wilds of Kansas and Indiana to the cities of Texas and Iowa. We're here to work, but it's always a pleasure to share time with these dedicated teachers... And Bertha gets a few days out of the car!

6,23 Day 18 Gotta Love Truckstops, or THey Still Smoke in Wisconsin

Gotta Love Truckstops, or; They Still Smoke in Wisconsin
We're in the Hearty Platter cafe, off the interstate at the Kwik Trip in Mauston, WI. Mom and I were delighted to discover 2 pieces of broasted chicken with potato and vegetable AND a trip to the salad bar, which included not only salad but soup AND dessert, for $4.95. I doubt we could have gotten a burger at Culver's across the street for that much. God bless the truckstops, and God help the truckers who eat this all on a regular basis!! Lordy!
We're so used to having "no smoking" in Minnesota - it took a minute for my nasal passages to compute what the heck that scent was - I'd forgotten just how good we have it in Minnesota; with no smoking. Even though no one in the cafe' was smoking at that time, it hung in the air. 2010: no more smoking in Wisconsin restaurants - not a minute too soon!
We're en route to Grand Rapids, Michigan, where I will be attending the National Art Education Association's Western Region meeting and leadership training. Work, but fun work I guess! Pat's working and looking for jobs, so Mom opted to come along for the ride!

6.22 Day 17 Where Have All My Minutes Gone?

Where Have All My Minutes Gone?
OK, through the haze of business I recall hearing that it was solstice, and I've already passed the longest day of the year, AND according to the ratty little dweeb on the evening news, "today is already 2 minutes shorter." Shut Up! I am NOT ready to hear that. The last hour just vanished in a single moment, and pretty soon I will be accelerating into some weird time blurp like in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." Not to worry, I guess, as my mind IS spotted; so perhaps I'm OK by default. But jeez! Where did the time go?
I am trying like fury to get out of town (and, I can hear you waving your finger at me, you're typing on your blog? Helllo??) The printer broke. Between having to get something done at school, getting to the chiropractor before I spend hours in the car en route to Michigan, going to the bank, going to the OTHER bank, getting my INR machine calibrated (this little gizmo that checks the thinness of my blood, for heart valve purposes), helping Pat read over a job application -- well, I already missed my 4 Sustainable Twin Ports meeting. What's still not done? The kiln inventory, my room at school, AEM things and so much more....
Well it must be tomorrow by now. Gotta go.

6.21 Day 16 * How Much Wood Could A Woodchuck Chuck?

How Much Wood Could A Woodchuck Chuck?
Woke up EARLY (still on that school schedule; a hard habit to break!) Did dishes, clothes, floors, rugs, and went to take out some garbage. By the time I got halfway down "the back 40" (as we lovingly call the back end of our long, thin, urban lot!) I could see them: three little critters frolicking near the steps to the alley. Baby Woodchucks!!! Cuuuuttttee!
I watched them for a bit; then as I stepped forward, all three 'stood up' like their squirrel cousins, front paws hanging and noses up to sniff the air. Following Mama Woodchuck's lead (we have decided to call her 'Penelope'); they scuffled off under the sauna.
I hit Wikipedia with my morning soda, and learned that woodchucks are indeed related to squirrels. Also called "marmots" and "ground hogs", they are now quite plentiful, moreso than in the frontier days. Woodchucks, ironically enough, flourish where there is a lack of forest - they are more able to burrow where humans have interfered with the natural cover of wood. "Benign nuisance", one reference claimed.
Benign, but cute. I suppose I could be worrying about how to get rid of them, but why? Penelope was resourceful enough to find a great place to raise her family, complete with tolerant humans and a sauna that now apparently has a basement.

6.20 Day 15 * "You Plant A Seed and It Grows"

"You Plant A Seed, and It Grows" is as simple as one can boil it down to - the calm faith of life. Artist friend and mentor Hazel Belvo share this mantra with me years ago. Standing in my garden on a warm soon-to-be-summer day, sweat pouring, dirt sticking to said pouring sweat; my hair makes me look like Unibomber Ted Kazinski (sp?) - it's sticking straight up with a mousse of sunscreen and insect repellent. I'm a happy camper.
Really no mosquitos yet; just hoards of ticks sharing the day, reminding us humans of our place in the natural order!
What could be more amazing? Waist-high Egyptian onions; their green tubes overlapped flat. The red-veined leaves of beets, beginning to poke to the sun. Squash blossoms, which I recall eating, sauted in tacos, in Mexico. Asparagus gone to seed, taller than I. Horeradish dizzily drilling it's white roots downward. The brightest green basil leave against the red-brown soil. The tiny stringed dots of the grapevine, each plotting to grow up into a large red grape. Even the chilly white curl of the cutworm as I eject it over the fence, airborn from a shovel catapult.
You plant a seed, and it grows.

6.19 Day 14 * Two Weeks, and Nary A Vacation In Sight

Two Weeks; and Nary A Vacation in Sight...
Wow. I can't believe I've been "officially" done with school for two weeks. WHERE DID IT GO?? Every day I've been in town I've been AT school, working to muck out old plaster with scissors stuck into it, filthy clay-dusted sprinkled fabrics and papers, and paint-splattered bins. Or having a curriculum meeting. Or discussing jobs - who was staying and who is going - with my colleagues. Or working on the kiln inventory.
Not only does it not feel like vacation, it doesn't feel like I've caught up on anything or gotten anything done.
We are running to the cabin tonight, to weed and garden. At least it will LOOK like vacation.

6.18 Day 13 * Winter In Summer, or; Why Didn't I Wear Tights?

Winter in Summer, or, Why Didn't I Wear Tights?
I am an admitted technodweeb. Having worked as a teacher-trainer for the ArtsConnectEd website when it was launched in 2000, I came back to help with the remake and relaunch of this fabulous website - a joint venture of the Minneapolis Institute of Art and the Walker Art Center. We spent the day in one of the MIA's lavish boardrooms; our minds whirring with the wonder of where we could take our students with this fantastic tool.
I was distracted only by the cold. Yes, in June - the cold.
You know how cold it is in Minnesota's summer establishments? The cafes, museums, department stores, etc? If it were THAT cold in there in January, people would be complaining like crazy. But somehow, when it's above 60 degrees outside, there's free license for it to be quite cool indoors. I made it through the morning by sandwiching my sandaled feed between my purse and my computer bag; albeit my calves were frosty to the touch.
What a relief to get out into some warm air!

6.17 Day 12 * MomSpeak, or; The More Things Change, The More THey Stay the Same

Momspeak, or The More Things Change; the More They Stay the Same
I don't know about you, but the protocols at Mom's house never change.
Mom is 88, I am 49. Yet, when I am home, I'm lovingly reminded to pull the door shut, be careful not to step on the pepper plants in the garden, etc. You'd think I'd know by now, right?
Mom has a house FULL of treasures, and I do mean full. She grew up during the Great Depression, and her values regarding "stuff' would make any environmentalist proud. Things are not simply thrown away; they are repurposed. Or saved for the future. Or dismantled and recycled. Or gifted - but only to someone who will appreciate them.
I still remember when Great Aunt Olga had to move into a nursing home. Her daughter in law went into her house and just threw- virtually everything. Another cousin rescued photographs, favorite dishes and more from the trash. It felt like a rape - all of this elderly woman's household discarded so casually, after being cared for for so long. I try to respect that with Mom; helping her with the repurposing, rather than admonishing her for her collections.
Lots of time to work on that today, and to buy plants together. Rather than return to Duluth between my Tuesday meeting (AEM) and my Thursday meeting (artsconnected); I chose to hang out at the homestead...

6.16 Day 11 * Taking Care of Business, or; "if we don't do it, who will?"

Taking Care of Business, or "if we don't do it, who will?"
Around the table today in Rochester sat our AEM (Art Educators of Minnesota) Council - teachers whose jobs should really be done for the year. But, here we were!
I would not be surprised to see these same individuals at OTHER council tables in OTHER places. Have you ever noticed that the same handful of people do everything? Go to the PTA meeting - they're there, baking cookings and planning for the rummage sale. The political rally? They're there - holding signs and getting donations. The "insert medical malady organization here" fundraiser? They're there, doorknocking for Cancer or Heart Disease or Hodgkin's Lymphoma or... Church? They're the ones doing altar guild, serving as ushers, rallying the campaign for Africa. You get the point.

6.15 Day 10 * Crookshanks & The Woodchuck

"Crookshanks" & The Woodchuck*
Today, after we moved stuff off of the porch to get ready for the roofers, we heard a loud, crabby "meeoowwwwl, meowwwlll" coming from the alley. "Kitty! Kitty"" I called out (can't help it folks; it's instinctive...) Here came a large yellow/orange tabby, "meeowwwlll", up the stairs from the alley.
After a little sweet talking, tummy scratching, and ear rubbing, we were pals. The cat had a very distinct twist in it's tail, complete with a bump - as though he'd caught it in a door and broken it. "Just like Crookshanks, from Harry Potter", I cooed, "Crook in the tail, yellow tabby; Hermione's cat..."
As Pat and I were complementing this handsome feline, "Crookshanks" caught movement from under the sauna - our friendly local Urban Woodchuck. Game on.
After a good deal of sniffing and straining on the parts of both critters, the cat got a little too close. The sound coming from the woodchuck cave was startling: "Eeeeeeeeeeee! chk chk chk Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" I didn't know that woodchucks had voices, let alond piercing screams, but this one was downright operatic!
A pleasant experience after a day of working at school and takin' care of business....
*Note to self- Title Blog Entries.

6.14 Day 8 * A Midsummer Night's Woodchuck

Can it be that it's already the middle of JUNE? How is that possible, when we still have the quilt on the bed and the mittens in the car??
There's a woodchuck living under the sauna. I saw her today when I went back into our "back 40" - our nickname for our long, skinny, city lot. At first I thought she was a rabbit; but no - short rounded ears, lovely granite-colored fur; the little pad of a tail.
Our yard seems to be a haven for critters of all sorts. My mother, knowing full well what my answer would be, asked "Well, what are you going to do?" To which I responded "Try to stay out of her way - she probably has babies under there."
Can't we live peacably with the rest of the natural world? Why is our first instint to kill the spider, trap the rodents, mow out the weeds. I mean, if something is imposing in some way, I could see working to reorient it: mice, for example, would not be welcome in my home. But a woodchuck under the sauna? She's not bothering anyone.

6.12 Day 8 * You Look "Fair" In Those Tights, M'Lord

We spent some time today at the Renaissance Faire (yes, that's "Fair" with an "e" - just as in "olde", "shoppe", and other words denoting tourism) in in Twig, MN. It's a small "Faire", especially in comparison to Minnesota's Shakopee Renaissance Festival, but delightfully non-Disney. Pat was a swarthy pirate by my side, and I but a poor serving wench!
It all made me wonder: hundreds of years from now, will there be "Early 21st Century Fair"s? Or "Faire"s? Will people dress up in OUR 'costumes of the day'? I can just imagine folks donning ass pants, applying fake tattoos to mimic the "tramp stamp" of the day. Or young men spending a great deal of money to purchase handmade "authentic" saggers; the crotch-down-to-your knees style that seems to have infected today's youth...
What about those dressing as the wealthy of our day? Will they wear replicas of Armani suits? Purchase fake bottles of Dom Perignon and pretend to sup it with their peers? Will the women mimic the look of breast and lip implants? (I'm assuming, perhaps in error, that this fad will have faded by then -- or that we will be merely genetically producing people with all of the 'amenities' that we now so barberically cobble together...)
Will folks, hundreds of years from now, be so fascinated with how we lived, made art, did business, etc., that they'll pretend to be us, as we pretended to be Renaissance era folk today? And how successful will they be?
Sometime to ponder; as I ate my "Renaissance" corn dog today....

6.12 Day 7 * One Man's Trash...

"One Man's Trash is Another Man's Treasure", or so they say. I got my "packrat" gene from my mother, Bertha. So nothing is quite as much fun on a sunny Friday morning than heading out to follow the signs...... I hope there's some sociologist out there who has analyzed what people choose to sell, and how much they want for it - it's an immense study in values. At one sale, the very tools we use in our gardens were priced and marked as "antiques". At yet another, I picked up a 1959 Milton Bradley board game, mint condition, for a quarter.
Despite her 88 years, Bertha still manages to pick up things for "someday". I love that about her.
Which begs the question: whose child is my sister? Bertha and I: piles of stuff all over our houses, scavenged and salvaged treasures, few unutilized surfaces. My sis: no piles of stuff, carpet vacuumed so that the nap stands up straight, hotel-like, grass cut in diagonal stripes.
Bertha and I: Early to bed, early to rise; let's GO!!! My sis: wakes up mid afternoon; sleeps all day, cleans and organizes all night. Bertha and I: "Oh, I've got that tool somewhere....let me look. I probably have a few of them because I don't put them back after I use them". My sis: "Oh, I have that tool. It's in box A-4, Row 17, lower level, in the garage files."
All of which probably contributes to the whole schtick about what people value, what they sell, what they charge, and what they give away. But that's all of no consequence when the day is bright, the signs are up, and the sales are open..."going saling" for us means something different than for many!

6.11 Day 6 * Weeds in My Head; Late Night Musings

Sitting out on Mom's front steps in Robbinsdale. The people across the street appear to have wireless internet, which I am currently PIRATING (Pat would be so proud of my "pirattitude'!) More grades to fix, a principals' meeting that got cancelled, lunch with hubby, a search for a better weed hoe for the garden, a quick trip to the cabin, testing out the weed boe, and crying with one of my high school friends on the phone on I-35...her kitty had been diagnosed with cancer and was going to be put down tomorrow. They were having 'special time' together tonight; as the kitty's breathing is getting more labored - a tumor is pressing against her esophagus. Time to go out and buy another copy of Cat Heaven. Mom has been cautioned by her doctor on her "pre diabetic" state, and is dieting; no mean feat for an 88-year-old who needs a cookie to take a pill, and has to take a lot of pills!
Well, the suburban mosquitos are out tonight, so I guess I'd better sign off. Time to go argue with Mom: The National Enquirer is to news what FOX TV is to.....

6.10 Day 5 * Toe Cleavage

At last - a warmish day!! The slightest hint of summer; like a pinky blush on a green apple. Only Day 2 of sandals this season (I wear 2 pairs of socks from about October through April - Ms. Cold Feet!) So when it's Sandal Time - it's no holds barred, or all toes bared, as the case may be. Bared and decorated. Hey, you only live once! Wait til you see my tattoo...
So much for summer vacation, at least so far. I worked at school all morning, after an early Sustainable Twin Ports meeting. A phone call indicated a problem with grades that had to be fixed; then prep was necessary for the afternoon meeting with the curriculum director. More work on STP this late afternoon: Tracy and Jeff and I have been composing the curriculum for Round 2 of the project; to begin in January of 2010.
Pat and I sat and looked out over Lake Superior tonight at Va Bene', a wonderful Italian bistro on the waterfront. We got our calendars together and did some planning - already June is pretty much in the bag. But the fact that one can go outside without an extra jacket, or wear sandals with no socks, or walk unconfined by the gerbil-Habitrails of paths in the snowbanks...ah, life is good.

6.9 Day 4 * On Waste

10:00 PM: still working on the District kiln inventory; after spending most of the day at school cleaning...
There's a lot to clean out in my NEW art room, to make room for my stuff! I found a gallon of old Elmer's glue that quite literally was brown; with mold inside the container! How many years has it been since anyone cleaned room 242?? So, there are tons of things that are "garbage" and need to be sorted and disposed of.
At the same time, not just this year but EVERY year, there are tons of things that are NOT garbage that need to, in my humble opinion, be SAVED from being disposed!
Already this end-of-year I've made 3 trips to the Goodwill, with items that students or teachers have thrown away. Books. Notebooks. Jackets. Shoes. (With the number of clothing items in the Lost and Found at the end of the year, you'd be convinced that we have a bunch of nude little kids running around...) Fake flower bouquets. Banners. Posters. Vases. Cups. Furniture. A pinata. Freshly made pillows from the Home Ec room - along with bags of poly filling and fabric. Every year I am amazed at the waste, especially since most of what is thrown away is perfectly good and usable. I'm tempted, by the time I end my career, to come up with some sort of "school supply rescue" organization - what if we collected it all, packed it attractively, and SWAPPED IT with some other school's stuff? The kids would still have "NEW" and nothing would go to waste...
I walked to my new school today. 30 minutes walking from my door. This will be great - I can easily walk or ride my bike to work! This is only the second time in 20 years that I will be teaching in ONE building, making it possible to transport myself in a more sustainable way!

6.8 Day 3 * Brr, Brr, More Brr, and Still Working

It didn't FEEL like 'summer vacation' today. First of all; witness the A.M. temperature -- Xena and Sophie were snuggled in tight; and it was as tough as a January morning to get of that warm nest. Plus, Pat still had a day of school. He dropped me off at Woodland Middle School (my new home for next year), where hours slipped by over the sorting of colored paper, the cleaning of shelves, the scouring of student tote bins and more. A colleague called, reminding me of the afternoon architects' meeting - our District is going through a massive construction/reconstruction plan. Another colleague offered to pick me up; fortunate due to the torrential rainfall and the late time.
All in all it was shorter than regular work day; the architects finished up about 3. At least we got our two cents' worth in; for the Art team.
The RAV was ready to pick up at the mechanic's; we made a quick run out. Even the most reliable Toyotas sometimes have issues. The ignition had broken inside.
After a quick trip to the gym and a date at Arby's with my guy, we spent a good chunk of the night watching "The Bachelorette."
Ah sweet fantasy!

6.7 Day 2 * On Roadside Attracts, or; Non-Disney

Ah, the sleep-in. Til all of 7 AM, but that's sleeping in compared to the school year. We'd opted for a quick trip to the cabin over church, despite all there is to be thankful for. There were water jugs and other supplies to haul down, and the riding lawn mower needed to come home for some maintenance.
BRRR!! My hands were numb by the time I finished loading the truck!
It was a tidge warmer, but wet, down at Finlayson. The garden has exploded -- potatoes poked their leaves up through the sand, and the snow peas wove tendrils around one another. Thistles and quackgrass lurked between the rows, like thugs on a dark street, knowing it was probably too cold and too wet for me to go after them.
We UNLOADED the topper, LOADED the ragtop, UNLOADED the water and other goods, LOADED the riding mower, and; as the rain loomed nearer, stood a moment on the dock to enjoy the waves. As Pat peered out with his spyglass, piratelike, over the water, a bald eagle swooped out from the trees mere feet from us, zooming low over the water. I watched as he approached the opposing shore - his body reared up slightly, feet came down and SPLASH - plucked a fish from the water. There's church - right there - yet another amazing thing to be thankful for! Pat caught the action through the spyglass as the eagle landed in a tree lakeside; fish in claw then in beak; then gone.
Wet grass and heavy skies caught up with us as we pulled the gate shut and headed out. On Highway 61, in Rutledge, Pat pulled over to a curiosity we'd driven by thousands of times - since it was the thousand-and-first time, we had to stop! The old gas station was bejeweled in driftwood, antlers, handmade signs, and a full fan of turkey feathers, which the proprietor confirmed were "local," "from a roadkill" and "smoked" - the roadkill turkey, that is, not the feathers. The gentleman told us of his ambitions to make a place off to the north side of the station to create his birdhouses (there were several there already of all sizes). The whole place was surrounded by oddly sculptural things; car chassis (sp?), taxidermied animal components, buckets of flowers - you name it. The shelves inside held everything from engine components to hot dog buns. What a place - reminiscent of some we'd visited along Route 66.
Home, COLD, to the gym, COLD, to the grocery store, COLD. Hunkered down with the kitties and the big warm man.

6.6 Day 1 * I Went on Summer Vacation, and All I Got Was This Stupid Blog...

I've always joked about the proverbial "what I did on my summer vacation" essay - but here it is! Ta da!! Will I be able to do it??
The older you get, the faster the time seems to go. Perhaps by chronicling my 'summer vacation' I'll actually know what happened to it?
There are so many things to catch up on at home, I don't know where to start. ADD is setting in -- doing the laundry leads me to cleaning the basement leads me to... I need to stop and focus. I need a haircut (see photo). I need some warm weather (see my basil seedlings, still under plastic?). I need to lose some more weight. I need help, with everything! Too much to do...