Ghosts of Halloween Past

Halloween is tomorrow.  This is not thrilling to me.  I must be the Scrooge of Halloween.  I don't like running to the door every minute or so while trying to watch something on TV or finish something in the kitchen, listening to my dogs bark and get excited.  I don't enjoy oohing and aahing at the kids' costumes.  I don't like parents who hold their teeny children out to get candy, when I know full well who's going to eat the candy.  I don't like the kids who haven't even learned to say, "Trick or treat," and just hold their bags out for me to pour the candy in.  I don't like the kids who evaluate the loot and complain if I don't have candy they like.  I don't appreciate kids who can't even say thank you, but turn immediately and leave.

And yet, Halloween was fun as a kid.  We even extended our Halloween to include the night before, Beggars' Night.  I remember walking around with friends, but for the most part, I can't tell you which friends.  I don't remember any specific costumes, but I do remember having to wear a coat over/under my costume if it was cold.  I do remember that getting a popcorn ball was a good deal.  I remember the Beckley's Halloween parties in their garage.  Bales of hay for decorations were a big deal, too.  My memories of Halloween are slim, but I did enjoy it.

What happened?

Being a teacher and having Halloween parties with wild, greedy children?  Being on the giving end, rather than the receiving end?  Being damn lazy?

BOO HUMBUG!!!

All iz well- 3 Idiots

What does "All iz well" have to do with the Bollywood movie 3 Idiots?  It is the film's mantra, but is also how I feel about the movie.  This long, silly movie about the search for a former college friend takes many twists and subplots.  You name the motif, it's there.  Three musketeers.  Check.  Hateful professor.  Check.  Rival classmates.  Check.  Hate/love relationship.  Check.  Findling a long lost love.  Check.  Learning to do what you love, rather than what your parents want of you.  Check.  Genius bad boy makes good.  Among these "chapters" are Bollywood production numbers.  I loved it and am glad that the title didn't scare me away from it.

For a review, see http://lapiskamay.wordpress.com/2011/03/24/3-idiots-film-review/ .

Back in the Saddle

This handsome young man and I went back to school today after a seven week hiatus and this is something to celebrate for lots of reasons. 

First, my cast is off and I feel like going to class!  Not having my dog classes which fill up so much of my time has been hard on us both.  Canon gets to socialize and work, where he's been leading an undisciplined life for the past month and a half.  I expected wildness and willfulness, but Mr. Canon did a good job.  We' had to make a few adaptations- mostly off-leash since I can't correct him with his collar, and we haven't done what the other dogs have, but I'm proud of my boy.

Evi gave him the dreaded ear pinch to make him pick up the dumbell today.  It was hard mto watch, but nowhere near as awful as I expected it to be.  We have a lot of homework to do there.

Ultimately, it was nice to have a job for me to do and a place for us to go.  Being homebound isn't all it's cracked up to be, unless it's a cold, snowy day.

I'm happier than I've been in awhile, and I hope Canon is, too...

I can...

...touch my nose with my left hand-
        I have to bend my head a bit,
        but it's still good,
...pull up my pants with two hands,
...tie my own shoes,
...carry two dog dishes at the same time.

             I am SUPERWOMAN!

Joint Analogies

I know there are some analogies or metaphors here somewhere.  Maybe they'll reveal themselves.

The cast came off my arm two days ago.  What a relief to not carry that cast around, to not clunk against furniture and doorways, to not have to carefully tape a garbage bag over my arm to shower or bathe.  No incision scar rbbing against plastic.  I have all my fingers to use now.  BUT, the elbow still doesn't work.  This is not unusual after my arm has been in forced at a 90 degree angle for six weeks, but it is frustrating. i can straighten the elbow to almost 45 degrees.  I work and work at bending the elbow more, so I could rub lotion on my other arm or blow dry my hair.  It feels like I've made progress, but when I look at my elbow, I still see that 90 degree bend.  I'm nowhere near scratching my nose, unless I try bending my head down to my hand (not easy!).

Here's where the metaphoric stuff comes in.   I look at my arm, know how it used to work, how it should work, but it just doesn't for no apparent reason, even discounting the pain.  It's kind of like when your phone or some appliance stops working.  You either get someone to fix it, or throw it away and buy a new one.  Not an option. I look at my hand longingly and will it to scratch my nose, to button my blouse.  Not yet. 

That discrepancy between knowing how my body should work, and how it's actually working is tough to digest.  I do think of the people who have lost limbs or the use of their limbs permanentlt, and can't even think how I would deal with that and be able to make the physical and mental adaptations necessary to go on to having a happy, productive life.  I suppose some never do.

I'm expecting to get past this.  I make my tiny steps towards moving that arm, waiting the six weeks until my doctor's appointment, when the PA will suggest my next steps.  I'm anxious, and suppose I will be for awhile. 

Sounds a bit like other roadbocks in life.  Doesn't it?

This morning...

... I woke up to sunshine...


                and this...

and this...

Not bad after a cloudy, rainy day yesterday!

My latest excuse for not keeping up with my blog

Pain and Poetry

It's been two weeks now.
A walk in the park.  Two dogs. ???
Elbow looks kind of funny and hurts like hell.
Lying on the grass in the park.
Paramedics.  Ambulance. 
8 hours in the emergency room.
 Splint. 
Surgery 4 days later. 
Wires.
 Percocet. 
Swelling. 
Sleeping. 
Helpless.
Still hurts-

 maybe not

like hell,

but a lot.

Staples out in two more days.

 Cast? 

Then what?

Wet

Yes, this a picture of nothing but wet pavement and grass, but that's a good thing.  It's our first real rain of the summer.  Not a downpour.  Not for long.  It's drying up already.  But it's RAIN!!!

The "Orchard"

I picked our five peaches last week (really, four, one was on the ground, pecked by birds).  I'd guess that having only five peaches on the tree, enabled them to get big.  I was as proud as if I had something to do with it.  When you've spent most of your life NOT growing edibles, every little bit is a thrill.

Learning that Stuck

Sometimes we look back and wonder what we learned in our school years and of what use it is to us.  There are skills we've acquired that can't be attributed to one time or place- math skills, reading and writing skills-- those that have been built upon (and eroded).  And then there's a body of knowledge- most of it lost, I would think, and relatively useless.  Knowing Akhenaten was married to Nefertiti, has never really served me well, although I enjoy knowing this. My familiarity with Greek and Roman mythology helps me understand literary references.

One thing that I am guessing has stuck with many people, is the ability to name the clouds- nimbus, cumulus, cumulonimbus. cirrus, stratus.  I don't know why.  Perhaps because we look at them every day-because the sky and weather affect us, because we all are weather forecasters.  Perhaps because the names are fun to say.  We feel very "scientific" being able to identify clouds.  Cloud gazing inspires the creative part of us as well as the scientific.  I've been thinking about clouds the past few days because I keep hoping they're going to give us much awaited rain.  So I'm going to keep on watching them, and naming...

School Memories- Pinon Canyon Camp

Today I went to an Assistance League training session at the YWCA Pinon Canyon Camp in Tijeras.  It brought back memories of Kevin and me taking our classes there a couple of times for a beginning of the year activity.  I think we spent 2 or 3 nights there, learning about the environment from their trainers, enjoying the area, learning to work together. 

I especially remember the bunk rooms- decidedly uncomfortable, cooking and cleaning up in the kitchen with a group of kids, the parent pot luck dinner, singing along with Jeff Burrows, learning to use a compass, and bringing home a tub of earthworms each year for our own mini-composter.  Those worms lasted a year, until I stored them in the garage one hot summer, and the worms crawled out and died.

It makes me want to sort through my pictures, where I know I have pictures of at least one of our trips, so I guess I'll do that now...Voila!

Doggy Etiquette

I am no Emily Post of the doggy set. My dogs are as likely as any to bark at a passers-by or to jump up on a visitor or anyone who has a kind word for them. I am happy to have almost anyone's dog jump up on me and give me big, slobbery kisses. But I do have some expectations of people and their dogs.

It would be nice to think that we are all good dog handlers and that all dogs are trained well, but most of us know better.  Think of all that forewarned, forearmed stuff.  Case in point:  Don't get close to strange dogs (may work for people, too) when you don't know how they'll react.  When we walk, I give other dogs and their walkers wide berth.  Mine tend to get crazy and bark a lot, scaring others.  (I told you I'm not the expert!)  and who knows about the other dogs.   The park where I walk Caprice and Canon has some narrow walks along the drainage ditch, which we call "dog alley."  There's really no roon for two-way traffic, without pushing someone on the edge of the ditch.  When we come to one of these alleys, I watch for walkers coming the other way.  If someone enters from the other direction, I circle back with my dogs and wait. 

Others, trusting me, I guess, are not so thoughtful.  They forge into the alley, leaving me to backtrack, or try to handle my dogs (sometimes I can, and sometimes, I can't, depending on space, preparation, and my dogs' frenzy.)  The other day I couldn't.  The space was small; the grass was wet; I had to turn at a funny angle.  Result:  my dogs got very close to the little black dog coming towards us, close enough to possibly scare mom and dog, and I ended up twisted in the leashes and on the ground.  "That's your problem," you might say.  It certainly is, but I still think some common sense and consideration by others is called for.  Manners can make walking the dogs a bit easier for whimps like me.

Memories of HP

Harry Potter and I have not had a lot to do with each other for a long time now.  If the truth be known, I never finished The Deadly Hallows and I'm wayyy behind on the movies.  But I still have  a strong affection for him, and the big opening of the last movie has brought a wave of nostalgia to me.

I vaguely remember reading about Harry in 1997.  I was so intrigued after reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone that I ordered a paperback copy Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone from Amazon.uk, thinking it was a sequel.   It was actually a matter of changing the title for American audiences-- something about a sorcerer being more intriguing.  I enjoyed comparing the two- really a matter of changing a few spellings and Britishisms.  The original illustrator was not Mary GrandPre, as well.

I closely followed the sequels, looking forward to the delivery of each, but my greatest joy and memories of HP were sharing the first two books with my students.

Reading aloud was always a favorite thing for me to do with students.  Favorite enough to base my dissertation on reading aloud.  HP was one of the most memorable read-alouds.  The books are long, have flowing descriptions, and varied characters.  They invite taking on the voices of the characters.  I had a bit of difficulty keeping my characters straight.  Sometimes Hagrid would change accent and voice (I wasn't very good with the accents); I would mix up my characters, but there always seemed to be life in them, no matter what the voice rendition.  J.K. Rowling's writing was a teacher's dream.  What wonderful examples of descriptive writing, showing, not telling.  I fell in love with the book all over again when reading it aloud, and I believe my students were right there with me.

I usually do not reread- not time, but for Harry, I might make an exception.  Or there's always a movie marathon.  By the time I get through them, Hallows #2 may be available!

Simple things

Sometimes we underestimate the simple things that can make us happy.  For me today it was running with Canon in an agility fun match, no matter how clunky I was or how hot it was, having lunch out with Michael, and finishing it off with frozen yogurt at Menchies.

It's probably been about ten years since I had ice cream at an ice cream place (other than the plain stuff at Souper Salad.  It was a thrill for me to get to taste yogurts and serve my own today.  No get-your-yogurt-and-run for me.  I sat there and savored every bit.  A new favorite.  A refound happiness.

Breaking the rules with grace

Creativity means learning where the rules exist, and them breakiing them!  Saying, "It's better this way."  But you have to know the rules in order to break them with any grace.  

                   -Alan Arkin in an interview in New Mexico Magazine, 6/11

This resonated with me when I read it in the hospital waiting room the other day.  I like the image of breaking the rules with grace.  This fits in with my idea of education or learning:  a basic foundation will serve you well as a platform for creating.  It probably is my platform for learning, why I want the facts and procedures first, before I run with it and create my own learning.

Michael sometimes makes fun of me for being so concerned about the rules and the "right way" of doing things.  I guess I'd just like to do everything with grace!

Justice?

Two posts in one day!  Since I sat down to write, I might as well...

 

 

Do I recap the Casey Anthony case?  An early 20's mother, who, it seems, did away with her 2-year-old daughter three years ago.  Lots of evidence, including not reporting her daughter was missing for a month, points to her guilt.  I, as well as most people, it seems, believe she is  guilty.  Today she was was acquited, most likely because the prosecution did not make its case.

Many are saddened, disheartened by the verdict, and feel that Caylee did not get justice.  Caylee did not get justice three years ago when she was murdered.  The justice of today is not about Caylee, but about the rest of us not getting the satisfaction of a heinous misdeed being punished.  It may be a travesty of justice, but not for the little girl...for our own need for revenge.   (Do I sound like the Barbara that supports the death penalty?)

 

 

Too harsh for people who are heartbroken over a senseless death?  Maybe.  But the dead never really get justice.

Catfish

We watched a very strange movie last night, Catfish, one of those Netflix choices that made me wonder how I picked it.  It's a documentary about a Facebook relationship based on lies, and how one young man (who happened to be a documentary maker) traced down the truth.  Truth is a funny word to use with this movie, because the film itself seems partially faked.  Neverthelss, I watched the whole, thing, wondering what the truth actually was.  I did like the explanation of the movie's title:

Cod, explains to one character near the end of the movie,  are kept in tanks with catfish – the catfish nip at the cod’s fins, keeping them sharp, alert… keeping them on their toes, so to speak.

Is the movie explaining itself?  Warning us?  Justifying the deceit of the woman who claims she is other than what she is, who has created a cyberlife for herself?

Catfish has stuck with me because of its uniqueness and because it leaves questions in my mind.  Just what I like in a movie.

 

A "Not the 4th" Picture...

,,,but a memory.  I'm guessing I was 5,6,7, making Nancy 3,4,5.   I think the sailor dresses (there's the patriotic part of this for you) may have been brought to us by our grandparents.  Somehow I think they were quite crisp.  I kind of remember my braids being pulled real tight.  We even look like we might have gotten along, but I don't know that for sure.

I was looking at a file of family pictures.  Most brought tears to my eyes because they were of my parents.  As I leafed through them, I could see mom and dad and their friends and family age.  Sometimes I just miss having parents.  Miss  moments we had and could have had.  Today was one of those days.

Crazy Proud

I titled this entry because I am both.  We had our second Show Obedience class today, and Mr. Canon did pretty well.  Did he down easily?  No.  Did he sit up easily?  No.  He did heel well, and he went right over the jumps and back to me.  Even went after a toy, which he doesn't usually do in classes.  Am I proud of him doing what he should do?  Yes.  Am I crazy for driving across town with Nancy for two dog classes on Wednesdays?  YES.  Am I glad to do it?  Right!

The Dark and The Light

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

The battle between dark and light fascinates me.  I'm not sure whether it came from my reading of fantasy,  or whether my love of fantasy built up this interest.  After I read the Martin Luther King, Jr. , posting on Facebook, I was brought back to the idea of this struggle.  It's not just a fantasy issue, but a part of our everyday lives, expecially in terms of what is going on in our world today.  I thiI nk that there are times when it's hard to distinguish the dark from the light. The celebration of a death- is that light...or dark? Do we have control over either?  When will the lightness overcome the dark?  Morning, for sure, but it seems we need more.

I'm thinking of going back to Susan Cooper's Dark is Rising series.  Children's books, yes, but a dramatic struggle between dark and light, and, of course, a happy ending, but not without costs.  And then I think about the Wrinkle in Time trilogy, and Dianna Wynne Jones, and...

Maybe it takes fantasy, and for me, right now, children's books to give us hope.