Tuesday, April 28, 2009
books on CD
I don't listen to books on CD that often. In fact I could probably count the number of times I have with just one hand. But after listening to nine discs of one book this past weekend driving to and from Fort Worth I discovered something that really gets my panties in a twist. Why don't books on CD have multiple readers? Why isn't there a narrator reader and then different readers for each prominent character? How does a woman reader's voice sound anything like a male character's voice? It was rather weird and unlikable listening to my chick-lit book on CD when the female narrator switched back and forth between the main woman's voice and her many different male love interests' voices. I squirmed in my driver seat every time flirty banter arose in the chapters because I was reminded yet again how unlike a man the male character sounded like and how similar "he" sounded like the main woman. I was annoyed that I couldn't completely fall into the story and characters of the book I was listening to because I was so distracted and mad about the voices of the readers. I understand that costs are probably kept low by hiring just one person to read the entire book as compared to casting several people to provide voices for the main characters, but still... Where's the book on CD that transports me to another time and place because I can genuinely believe the voices speaking through my car stereo?
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Scooter
My family has only entertained cats in our lives, so through the years I've expressed my dog-loving tendencies to the canines of my friends. I'm a big fan of my best friend's dog, Champ, and while on the road for TOMS I was slightly obsessed with every dog I encountered - just ask Kelsey who made fun of me for taking pictures of these dogs on the company-issued Blackberry. Needless to say I love dogs though I have never owned one myself. So when it comes to hanging out with friends who have a dog I'm all about gaining the love and adoration of the pup. And if the dog somehow isn't fond of me from the beginning I certainly try to win him over with belly rubs and the occasional table scrap. Those moments with a dog help make up for all the years I've spent without "man's best friend".
Tonight was no different as more than once I was made feeling special from a huge dog named Scooter. A couple friends and I are sitting outside enjoying the night air from their apartment balcony with Scooter romping around and chewing on his rawhide bone. For some reason unknown to me Scooter decides to plop his front paws in my lap and proceed in climbing his way up to sitting with his full-body weight in my lap. With licking and sharp toenails attacking me from all sides I'm completely embracing the moment. I cradle Scooter until he decides to get up and explore some sound inside the apartment. Minutes later Scooter stops in front of my chair again, looks me in the eye, and hops right on up to his newly designated throne. He is one smart pup to know exactly which person would allow him full access to her lap and let him shed fur all over her black shirt. I never once complained or pushed him off of my lap, even by the third, fourth, and fifth time he came looking for attention. It was precious and sweet and I felt loved by a dog. Silly, I'm sure, but remember: it's the little things. So what made my night so grand? You guessed it. Mr. Scooter. The dog that for a few hours made me forget my woes of growing up dog-less and made me feel loved.
Tonight was no different as more than once I was made feeling special from a huge dog named Scooter. A couple friends and I are sitting outside enjoying the night air from their apartment balcony with Scooter romping around and chewing on his rawhide bone. For some reason unknown to me Scooter decides to plop his front paws in my lap and proceed in climbing his way up to sitting with his full-body weight in my lap. With licking and sharp toenails attacking me from all sides I'm completely embracing the moment. I cradle Scooter until he decides to get up and explore some sound inside the apartment. Minutes later Scooter stops in front of my chair again, looks me in the eye, and hops right on up to his newly designated throne. He is one smart pup to know exactly which person would allow him full access to her lap and let him shed fur all over her black shirt. I never once complained or pushed him off of my lap, even by the third, fourth, and fifth time he came looking for attention. It was precious and sweet and I felt loved by a dog. Silly, I'm sure, but remember: it's the little things. So what made my night so grand? You guessed it. Mr. Scooter. The dog that for a few hours made me forget my woes of growing up dog-less and made me feel loved.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
comfort from Eliana
Characters: Eliana- 7 year old first grade girl and Miss Hardin- 23 year old substitute teacher
Eliana: "What's your name again?"
Me: "Miss Hardin."
Eliana: "Are you married?"
Me: [giggling] "No, I'm not married."
Eliana: "So you spell it M-I-S-S not M-R-S, right?"
Me: "Right. Miss Hardin."
[a couple seconds pass]
Eliana: "Don't worry- it's not bad you're not married. I'm not married either."
Eliana: "What's your name again?"
Me: "Miss Hardin."
Eliana: "Are you married?"
Me: [giggling] "No, I'm not married."
Eliana: "So you spell it M-I-S-S not M-R-S, right?"
Me: "Right. Miss Hardin."
[a couple seconds pass]
Eliana: "Don't worry- it's not bad you're not married. I'm not married either."
Monday, April 20, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
m&m(a)
Music and Memories = M&M
I always find myself saying "this song reminds me of the time..." I can be driving in the car, sitting in a restaurant, or walking in the mall and all of a sudden my mind triggers back to a moment in time where the certain song playing overhead first affected my heart. Not every song can be connected back to a memorable moment or time in my life, but there are certainly enough songs out there to constantly keep me on my toes remembering the good ol' days.
I always find myself saying "this song reminds me of the time..." I can be driving in the car, sitting in a restaurant, or walking in the mall and all of a sudden my mind triggers back to a moment in time where the certain song playing overhead first affected my heart. Not every song can be connected back to a memorable moment or time in my life, but there are certainly enough songs out there to constantly keep me on my toes remembering the good ol' days.
"Never Leave You (Uh Oooh, Uh Oooh)" - Lumidee Memory sparked in the car listening to random radio station on I-35. Memory: behind the kitchen in Fazoli's fast-food Italian restaurant, summer after sophomore year in high school, finally made it past being just "the breadstick girl", The Beat 98.5 always playing on the radio, washing dishes in the sink, painting melted butter on the breadsticks for the next day, listening to the O'Connor kids talk about their school gossip, glancing down at my Casio water resistant illuminator watch to see the time
"Falling Slowly" - Glen Hansard, from the movie "Once" Memory sparked by listening to American Idol contestant, Kris Allen. Memory: white fluffy bed, sun shining through blinds of window, late May summer day, Apple laptop sitting on comforter, soundtrack to "Once" playing from the speakers, lying down next to my love, warmth of his arms holding me, looking up at the ceiling, breathing in a deep breath, looking back into his eyes, feeling untouched by time, heart skipping beats, wishing it could last forever
Sunday, April 12, 2009
a fable of sorts
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She didn't know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out, then the eggs, and then the coffee placing them all in separate bowls.
Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity...boiling water. Each reacted differently: The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship, or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out, then the eggs, and then the coffee placing them all in separate bowls.
Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg. Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity...boiling water. Each reacted differently: The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"
Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship, or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?
doughnuts and muffins
An excerpt from the book Faking It by Jennifer Crusie:
Nadine sighed and opened a cupboard, taking down a loaf of whole wheat. "According to Grandma, there are two kinds of men in the world, doughnuts and muffins. Doughnuts are the guys that make you drool," Nadine said, taking a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard.
"They're gorgeous and crispy and covered with chocolate icing and you see one and you have to have it, and if you don't get it, you think about it all day and then you go back for it anyway because it's a doughnut.''
"So doughnuts make you drool," Davy said.
"Right. Whereas muffins just sort of sit there all lumpy, looking alike, no chocolate icing at all. And while muffins may be excellent," Nadine went on, "especially the pineapple-orange ones, they're no doughnuts."
"So doughnuts are good," Davy said, trying to keep up his end of the conversation.
"Well, yeah, for one night," Nadine said, as her toast popped. "But then the next morning, they're not crisp anymore, and the icing is all stuck to the bag, and they have watery stuff all over them, and they're icky and awful. You can't keep a doughnut overnight."
"Ah," Davy said, "but a muffin--"
"Is actually better the next day," Nadine finished. "Muffins are for the long haul and they always taste good. They don't have that oh-my-God-I-have-to-have-that thing that the doughnuts have going for them, but you still want them the next morning."
Nadine sighed and opened a cupboard, taking down a loaf of whole wheat. "According to Grandma, there are two kinds of men in the world, doughnuts and muffins. Doughnuts are the guys that make you drool," Nadine said, taking a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard.
"They're gorgeous and crispy and covered with chocolate icing and you see one and you have to have it, and if you don't get it, you think about it all day and then you go back for it anyway because it's a doughnut.''
"So doughnuts make you drool," Davy said.
"Right. Whereas muffins just sort of sit there all lumpy, looking alike, no chocolate icing at all. And while muffins may be excellent," Nadine went on, "especially the pineapple-orange ones, they're no doughnuts."
"So doughnuts are good," Davy said, trying to keep up his end of the conversation.
"Well, yeah, for one night," Nadine said, as her toast popped. "But then the next morning, they're not crisp anymore, and the icing is all stuck to the bag, and they have watery stuff all over them, and they're icky and awful. You can't keep a doughnut overnight."
"Ah," Davy said, "but a muffin--"
"Is actually better the next day," Nadine finished. "Muffins are for the long haul and they always taste good. They don't have that oh-my-God-I-have-to-have-that thing that the doughnuts have going for them, but you still want them the next morning."
Nightluster
I wish I could take credit for the writing in this post but it belongs to one Laura Herrington. And when I first heard this monologue performed in 2006 by Kat Roll in Acting I class, I cried.
I don't think people see me. I get this feeling sometimes like I'm invisible or something. I can be standing there in a room and I'm talking and everything, and it's like my words aren't getting anywhere and I look down at myself and sometimes my body isn't getting anywhere either. It's like I'm standing behind a one-way mirror and I can see the guys and I can hear the guys, but they can't see me and they can't hear me. And I start to wonder if maybe I'm ugly or something, like maybe I'm some alien species from another planet and I don't speak the language and I look totally weird. But I don't know this, you see, because on this other planet I had this really nice mother who told me I was beautiful and that I had a voice to die for because she loved me so much, not because it was true. And I arrive here on Earth and I'm so filled with her love and her belief in me that I walk around like I'm beautiful and I sing like I have a voice to die for. And because I'm so convinced and so strange and so deluded, people pretend to listen to me... because they're being polite or something -- or maybe they're afraid of me. And at first I don't notice because I sing with my eyes closed. But then one day I open my eyes and find out I'm living in this world where nobody sees me and nobody hears me. I'm just looking for that one guy who's gonna hear me, see me... really take a chance. I mean, I hear them. I'm listening so hard I hear promises when somebody's just sayin' hello. Jesus, if anybody ever heard what I've got locked up inside me... I'd be a star.
I don't think people see me. I get this feeling sometimes like I'm invisible or something. I can be standing there in a room and I'm talking and everything, and it's like my words aren't getting anywhere and I look down at myself and sometimes my body isn't getting anywhere either. It's like I'm standing behind a one-way mirror and I can see the guys and I can hear the guys, but they can't see me and they can't hear me. And I start to wonder if maybe I'm ugly or something, like maybe I'm some alien species from another planet and I don't speak the language and I look totally weird. But I don't know this, you see, because on this other planet I had this really nice mother who told me I was beautiful and that I had a voice to die for because she loved me so much, not because it was true. And I arrive here on Earth and I'm so filled with her love and her belief in me that I walk around like I'm beautiful and I sing like I have a voice to die for. And because I'm so convinced and so strange and so deluded, people pretend to listen to me... because they're being polite or something -- or maybe they're afraid of me. And at first I don't notice because I sing with my eyes closed. But then one day I open my eyes and find out I'm living in this world where nobody sees me and nobody hears me. I'm just looking for that one guy who's gonna hear me, see me... really take a chance. I mean, I hear them. I'm listening so hard I hear promises when somebody's just sayin' hello. Jesus, if anybody ever heard what I've got locked up inside me... I'd be a star.
old old writing
I stumbled across some old writings today. It was a scary, hard, reflective trip down memory lane. I loved my years in college, but looking back I can see and remember a lot of the pain I felt during certain events in my life. I'm so thankful I'm not in the same mindset and heartset I was back then. I am redeemed and accepted and unconditionally loved no matter what comes my way.
(February 2005)
Am I tricking myself with clouds of love?
Do I trust this is the right direction?
How can I walk by your side and not
See this as a perfect lesson?
There’s no reason to hide
Behind the doubts of a foggy view
I can be your hand to hold
You can be my warm embrace
Just to know we have each other
Our hearts can rest in a peaceful place
Sure its scary to think of the future
But if the chance comes you got to hold tight
Cause if you miss out you’ll never possess
The memories of a perfect night
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(February 2005)
Roll call.
They call me Laura *clap clap*
Or hey, you nerd *clap clap*
But ya know that's better *clap clap*
Than a five letter curse word.
Sha, sha boogy, sha sha, sha boogy. Roll call.
Its me again *clap clap*
Getting ready for bed *clap clap*
But there's just someone *clap clap*
I can't get outta my head.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(March 2005)
Sun shining down
warming my face
burning my heart
Wind blowing trees
caressing my face
touching my heart
God forgiving all
lifting my face
cleansing my heart.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(January 2006)
Something I wrote about a year ago:
Am I tricking myself with clouds of love?
Do I trust this is the right direction?
How can I walk by your side and not see this as a perfect lesson?
There's no reason to hide behind the doubts of a foggy view.
Something I wrote about a month ago:
I look into your eyes and see that this hurts -the unknown confusion,
yet I'm separated by distance and glaze.
And I can't be stirred to decide one way or the other.
I'm just here and now unavailable to the future and dreams you pour from your lips.
Something I wrote about an hour ago:
Regret has a long name.
Its called "loving you".
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(July 2006)
When I'm driving alone my mind wanders to all these things I would want to write about and I tell myself to remember it for the sole sake of writing it down here. Not with the intent of making my thoughts public, but more so affirming these thoughts by making them more than just electric pulses through my brain neurons. But I sit in front of this glowing screen and my mind's canvas is blank. All my epitomes and self-declarations meander back in the abyss and I can't remember them for the life of me. Who knows? I might've conjured up the cure for AIDS but lost it in distraction.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(August 2006)
I'm a penny heads down.
Will you still pick me up?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(September 2006)
you can't save me from these thoughts
for the trust that grew now rots
you've changed into what I despise
a popular gift but not a prize
enjoy your time of ill fated joy
you won't fool me with your face of coy
give back to me all I shared at dawn
vulnerable at best when I attempt to yawn
feeling stupid for wanting that lingering taste
invisible I realize it was all a waste.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(November 2006)
I wish I could scream in someone's face right now.
So I'll face the mirror and scream at the disappointment looking back.
AHHHHHHHHHHH.
I'm beginning to fall in the rabbit hole again.
I'll need to leave behind a rope so I can find my way out.
WOAHHHHHHHHH.
Sitting on the beach watching waves to and fro.
Confused about the life full of glee and hurtful woe.
NOOOOOOOOOOO.
I can do this. OH YES, I can, I must.
Cleanse away the remnants of heavy burdened rust.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(February 2005)
Am I tricking myself with clouds of love?
Do I trust this is the right direction?
How can I walk by your side and not
See this as a perfect lesson?
There’s no reason to hide
Behind the doubts of a foggy view
I can be your hand to hold
You can be my warm embrace
Just to know we have each other
Our hearts can rest in a peaceful place
Sure its scary to think of the future
But if the chance comes you got to hold tight
Cause if you miss out you’ll never possess
The memories of a perfect night
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(February 2005)
Roll call.
They call me Laura *clap clap*
Or hey, you nerd *clap clap*
But ya know that's better *clap clap*
Than a five letter curse word.
Sha, sha boogy, sha sha, sha boogy. Roll call.
Its me again *clap clap*
Getting ready for bed *clap clap*
But there's just someone *clap clap*
I can't get outta my head.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(March 2005)
Sun shining down
warming my face
burning my heart
Wind blowing trees
caressing my face
touching my heart
God forgiving all
lifting my face
cleansing my heart.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(January 2006)
Something I wrote about a year ago:
Am I tricking myself with clouds of love?
Do I trust this is the right direction?
How can I walk by your side and not see this as a perfect lesson?
There's no reason to hide behind the doubts of a foggy view.
Something I wrote about a month ago:
I look into your eyes and see that this hurts -the unknown confusion,
yet I'm separated by distance and glaze.
And I can't be stirred to decide one way or the other.
I'm just here and now unavailable to the future and dreams you pour from your lips.
Something I wrote about an hour ago:
Regret has a long name.
Its called "loving you".
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(July 2006)
When I'm driving alone my mind wanders to all these things I would want to write about and I tell myself to remember it for the sole sake of writing it down here. Not with the intent of making my thoughts public, but more so affirming these thoughts by making them more than just electric pulses through my brain neurons. But I sit in front of this glowing screen and my mind's canvas is blank. All my epitomes and self-declarations meander back in the abyss and I can't remember them for the life of me. Who knows? I might've conjured up the cure for AIDS but lost it in distraction.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(August 2006)
I'm a penny heads down.
Will you still pick me up?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(September 2006)
you can't save me from these thoughts
for the trust that grew now rots
you've changed into what I despise
a popular gift but not a prize
enjoy your time of ill fated joy
you won't fool me with your face of coy
give back to me all I shared at dawn
vulnerable at best when I attempt to yawn
feeling stupid for wanting that lingering taste
invisible I realize it was all a waste.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(November 2006)
I wish I could scream in someone's face right now.
So I'll face the mirror and scream at the disappointment looking back.
AHHHHHHHHHHH.
I'm beginning to fall in the rabbit hole again.
I'll need to leave behind a rope so I can find my way out.
WOAHHHHHHHHH.
Sitting on the beach watching waves to and fro.
Confused about the life full of glee and hurtful woe.
NOOOOOOOOOOO.
I can do this. OH YES, I can, I must.
Cleanse away the remnants of heavy burdened rust.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Saturday, April 11, 2009
stop sign
The city installed a set of four-way stop signs one block up from my street. I don't like it. For the 23 years I've lived at the house in the righthand corner of the Oxted cul-de-sac there was never a need for a stop sign. Granted my sister got hit by a car when she was younger at that same intersection, but still. It was the fault of the dumb driver rather than the lack of required legal stoppage. So now every time I turn right from my street I'm immediately forced to stop, check right and left, before making any other move. It's an unnecessary hassle and it interrupts the familiarity of my neighborhood. There is a stop ahead yellow caution sign directly next to my street sign. I resent it because it takes away the importance of notifying anyone that this street, my street, my home is on Oxted. Now if I give directions to my house I'll have to tell people to "turn right at the street with the stop ahead sign" because it is more obnoxious and noticeable than the blue street sign that has remained solitary and stationary for more than two decades. I imagine in a few months or years I'll be used to the sign and it will be no bother to stop one more time en route to a destination.. but for now I'd like to remain on my high horse of being annoyed with the city just coming in without warning and disrupting the comfort of recognizing and knowing my own neighborhood.
Monday, April 6, 2009
library count
books currently checked out from the San Antonio Public Library
- Almost French: Love and a New Life in Paris by Sarah Turnbull
- BITCHfest: Ten Years of Cultural Criticism From the Pages of Bitch Magazine edited by Lisa Jervis
- Trail of Crumbs: Hunger, Love, and the Search for Home by Kim Sunee
- A Map of Home: A Novel by Randa Jarrar
- Addition by Toni Jordan
- The Late Bloomer's Revolution: A Memoir by Amy Cohen
what are you reading?
- Almost French: Love and a New Life in Paris by Sarah Turnbull
- BITCHfest: Ten Years of Cultural Criticism From the Pages of Bitch Magazine edited by Lisa Jervis
- Trail of Crumbs: Hunger, Love, and the Search for Home by Kim Sunee
- A Map of Home: A Novel by Randa Jarrar
- Addition by Toni Jordan
- The Late Bloomer's Revolution: A Memoir by Amy Cohen
what are you reading?
hppy wknd
awesome weekend.
Thursday night - NESA Spring dance concert "Footnotes"
Friday night - burgers, Scooter the puppy, Full Moon, remembering old times
Saturday day - TCU Spring dance concert
Saturday evening - TCU Theatre musical "A Chorus Line"
Sunday - reliving Vagabond memories, dinner with Mike and Pam Mycoskie
epic weekend.
Thursday night - NESA Spring dance concert "Footnotes"
Friday night - burgers, Scooter the puppy, Full Moon, remembering old times
Saturday day - TCU Spring dance concert
Saturday evening - TCU Theatre musical "A Chorus Line"
Sunday - reliving Vagabond memories, dinner with Mike and Pam Mycoskie
epic weekend.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Etta
Etta is a lap cat. And right now she is resting on my stomach while my computer sits on my lap with her head and her paws draped on my left arm mid-type. We had to do some adjusting when she jumped in my lap to join me because I had intentions of writing about my past three days in Montessori while her intentions were to sprawl out to the satisfaction of her own comfort level without any regard to me. Okay, she just shifted and is now resting her head on my right hand while I'm typing. It bounces along with the movement of my fingers against the keys. Gosh, she's so funny. Have you ever seen a cat sleep on her back with all her legs and arms curl up in midair? Imagine a dog when it wants you to rub its belly and then change that image of a dog to the body of a black and gray speckled cat. There's Etta's daily sleeping habit. But if you try to rub her belly, as you would to a dog, she'll immediately claw and push your hand away. Although, you can get lucky scratching her upper chest early in the morning when she's just aching for attention and will take whatever she can get. She has eyes like the cat in Shrek that just melts your heart and makes you think she's looking directly into your soul. She's missing her bottom left canine tooth so when she yawns you can see the asymmetry of her mouth. My mom calls her Etta Bell because of the tinkly bell on her collar. Okay, now Etta has grown bored of her time on the hand-made Bounce Castle and has left the room. And now I sit here wondering why I wrote so much about my sister's cat? Oh, I know. 'Cause I love her.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
car-line
"Bye, Daddy. I love you."
---
versus
"Yeah...bye."
---
[silence]
___________
the interaction and responses I've witnessed between kids and parents during my morning car-line duty have been both appalling and inspiring. one minute I'm pulling the car handle to a vehicle clearly filled with love and encouragement and the next minute I'm opening Pandora's vehicle that overflows with bitterness and distaste. it's confusing and disheartening to view the latter, but I'm privileged to peek into the relationships within the car that possesses hugs and kisses goodbye. I just feel sorry for those children who are booted out of their parent's car without a word. or a hug. or a smile. just silence and a head faced forward.
---
"Okay, bye Mom. Love you!"
versus
"Yeah...bye."
---
[silence]
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the interaction and responses I've witnessed between kids and parents during my morning car-line duty have been both appalling and inspiring. one minute I'm pulling the car handle to a vehicle clearly filled with love and encouragement and the next minute I'm opening Pandora's vehicle that overflows with bitterness and distaste. it's confusing and disheartening to view the latter, but I'm privileged to peek into the relationships within the car that possesses hugs and kisses goodbye. I just feel sorry for those children who are booted out of their parent's car without a word. or a hug. or a smile. just silence and a head faced forward.
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