namaste

I have never wanted a tattoo badly enough to consider the physical pain of doing so. I mean, I can be kind of a baby. Indecisive, too. I like change, or at least I seem to have a lot of it, so it always seemed like a tattoo would be too permanent. Then, I read an Ani DiFranco quote somewhere that said something about how she realized her tattoos were no more permanent than she herself. Wow. I'm listening....And then something about going to hot yoga so many hours a week, I'm feeling the desire to commemorate the end of my challenge. It is not for many more weeks, so I have the time to think on it.

I'm thinking 'namaste' or an interpretation of namaste, and I'm thinking on my foot, on the inside. The color of henna. If there is something that I've most taken from all of this exhausting 7+ hours of yoga a week, it's that I hope to remember that the very best in me sees the very best in you...and to remember that those aren't different things. Somehow, in all of that sweating and exhaustion and pushing of limits, there is a transcendence that occurs as the body and breath sync; the illusion of separateness falls away a tiny little bit. I want to take that with me all day.

In other news, I was in KC this weekend for a very special friend's bachelorette weekend. It was such a great time with funny, down to earth women. I left missing Kansas dearly, to be honest. I love it here as much as I can, but I miss the midwest state of mind. I miss being near friends I've known for years and most of my family.

Having said all this, last summer I also whined about living in Dallas and when I let it go and focused more on the essence of what I was looking for (diversity, real people, nature, charm, community), I found it right here somehow. B and I talk about manifesting a bit, which makes us both feel kind of flaky; but deeply, I do feel that the universe is intelligent and responsive, and I do see evidence of like attracting like all around me.

So, here it goes. The essence of what I'm missing is...invested friendships that are deep and light and fun at the same time...connection with family members...charming, old-world surroundings...simplicity...walking to a slow, steady beat...cycles in nature, like the expansion and contraction of fall, then winter, then spring and summer...I can't pinpoint what I love about that one...variety? the hopefulness of spring? the artfulness of fall?

And tomorrow, when students return and responsibilities start to call to me faster than I can answer, I just hope to be balanced. I feel protective of my life balance, and vulnerable to lose it. I think yoga during the week may be my best balancer. I am so afraid, honestly, of going back to only existing as a self during the weekends, that is if I can get my mind off of work. I joined a book club. I have yoga. Balance...Peace...Respect for myself and my body...That's the essence of what I'm hoping to get out of this year.

i had to leave the house of self-importance
to doodle my first tattoo
realize a tattoo is no more permanent
than i am, and who
ever said that life is suffering
i think they had their finger on the pulse of joy
ain't the power of transcendence
the greatest one we can employ

- Ani Difranco

Preston likes it here

Preston loves the range, mostly because there is a pond and he is able to most efficiently smell of fish. Sam and Moses like it too, but they can't be trusted off leash.

My mom is recovering from a hysterectomy + removal of the tumor-- rumor is she looked 6 or 7 months pregnant! She says she never expected to be pregnant at 49, but she might actually take the baby over the tumor.

Anyways, her biopsy results came back; it looks like she has non-hodgkin's lymphoma. She had a bone marrow biopsy today-- but we won't hear back for awhile. It has occurred to me that I should get over my fear of bone marrow biopsies, should I need to look into sharing some marrow...not sure how that all works.

No one wants any cancer, but I think lymphoma is probably relieving to my mom compared to the ovarian cancer we thought it was. For awhile, there was talk of the situation as being very, very dire with very few options. Since then, it's been roller coastery, but overall better.

My mom is in super good spirits. She's kind of a badass.

home on the range

I am home on the range. This is my grandma's house, where I was mostly raised--my mom and I lived on in a little trailer on my grandma's land...humble, yes. Who would want anything other than? I didn't know it at the time, but it was pretty idyllic. This pic is just out the garden that I remember my great grandpa tending when I was little. I took the picture because I think that' s a squirrel tail hanging off of it; not sure what that's about.

I remember lots about this garden! It used to be even bigger than this. I would take the tomatoes into my wagon and sell them door to door. My grandma would take me to pick okra for pickled okra and to dig up potatoes for the mysterious underground potato cellar- I will always remember it to be one of those strangely comfortable smells, standing, surrounded in the dirt, must be what it smells like to be a toad or a snake, I wound think. She would take me to her precious strawberry patch, then to pick apples off the trees for apple pie.

Baby grapes. I remember these, too.

bubbles on a stream.

I have this quote and design on a coffee mug that just might

be my main source of wisdom at the moment.

This is a strange time for me.

I'm not sure if I should even say up here what all is going on. In 3 months, my health has spiraled, my husband's mom has been diagnosed and then cured of non-hodgkin's lymphoma, then today we find out my mom might have ovarian cancer-- she is not insured, and won't know for sure until her medicaid goes through, but apparently that's what they are thinking. Yesterday, I found out that another very special person to me has been dx'd with pancreatic cancer. Bless her. Bless my mom. Bless B's mom. Bless all of us.

I went to the new endo yesterday who said he's not ready to treat the tumor- unless it's Cushings, which he's checking for, and in which case I'll need neurosurgery this summer (but this is very unlikely). Interesting. I think I need to juice. I think I need to run again. To write. To somehow deal. This is the weirdest time- somehow dark, yet I know that there is a purpose. I'm not sure what to do, really.

no more fudge-ickles.

Green star juicer. Cheaper. Uglier. Crazy amounts of versatile. Lots of people love it, including juice guru Kris Carr.

Pretty, pretty princess Super Angel Juicer. Supposed to make better juicer. More expensive. Supposed to be easier to clean. I don't think it's as versatile. So pretty.

Downtown Dallas from the zoo monorail. Zoo monorail!

It's a big week.

Work + Me as a Neurotic: There are two more days of school. I'm going to miss this group SO much that I wondered how I'd do it this time! And there's the silver lining of this health drama- nothing can make me NOT want the school year to end right now. This is all my ego talking, because I love teaching; honestly, I'm ready for a break from the sucking at my job feeling. This has really taught me how strongly I identify with doing well at work. Right now, I just can't do what I used to be able to do, and I have to find a way to be ok with that. I'm so surprised at how "Monica" (from Friends) I am about it-- I want to run around to everyone: "Are we okay? Really, even secretly? What about now? Now?" I'm often observing thoughts like, "Does she think I'm making this up?" I want to be that person who doesn't care what others think, but my thoughts are more along the lines of, "Is there anything I can do so you will like me? Please? Like me?" Don't get me wrong- when I decide it's okay, I can easily get over someone not liking me; but it's very rare that I truly write someone off like that.

Green things: Getting a real, fancy pants juicer! I'm SOOOOOOOOO over this health crap. I watched a couple of documentaries, too; that, combined with this health dram fest may have just put me over the edge to a healthier me. The other green thing coming into my life is (maybe)...wait for it...a PRIUS!!! If the 90's hippie conversion van could see me now!

When I get more healthy: I'm going to be more present with my family and my friends and my funky little pets. This weekend was my dad's 50th birthday (my parents had me when they were young!). He got a Fender! My dad is seriously a rock star guitar player. There's all this musical talent in my family. You should hear my mom sing, too. And my aunt. Me, I'm like those people who try out for American Idol that have a dream but not much talent. I rock out, it just doesn't make a pleasant sound. like you hear on the radio...I've been thinking of trying guitar (again); my dad kind of inspired me. Sometime I'm going to get one of those electric pianos, too. It keeps getting pushed to the back of the budget. That's okay, though. I'm glad I got my camera first. It was my present to myself for doing leadership team.

.

The one in which her brother turns fourteen.

(mmm...dark chocolate cake, home made)

Yes, I have a fourteen-year old brother. My dad has been raising children for ninety-seven years.

(fabulous step-mom lighting up the cake.)

The past couple of years, G has had a family birthday gathering at Dave and Busters. Of course, we love this. It's a kids' party, but you get to eat food other than pizza; and, you can have a Guinness! Or, Baily's and coffee, as it may be.

(grown-up "cake." see the frothy goodness?)

(does anyone actually win anything here?)

We very much enjoyed our time with G (+ the family), who has unlimited texting now (as does our twelve year old sister). It is fun that they are getting to an age where we they are starting to communicate like grown ups...Of course we're talking about texting: Maybe I'm communicating like a teenager?!  IDK.  TTYL.*

(Gateway drug to vegas, I think.)

*Translation: 

I don't know.  Talk to you later.  

Or, I'm also texting someone else more 

important than you and don't have time 

to spell your words out, loser.

mmm, juice

+b and i+ looking kind of creepy

I have been on a serious Christmas kick. I know how weird that is, but it occurred to me that school is going to start kind of soon, which means it's fall. Fall? Thanksgiving, which I also love. And to me, that means it's basically Christmas. Ah, I love it. I don't know why I'm in that place lately, but I've taken in It's a Wonderful Life, recently. The Bishop's Wife. The Family Stone. The Holiday. As much as I love the holidays, I seriously just don't like the present part. Isn't that bad? I should feel bad. In my plans for future queendom, we'll only give presents to people we don't know that really need it, and maybe anonymously. Or, maybe we'll just give offerings of time; I haven't worked out the details. Although I'm not a Christian really (at least not by most Christian's standards), I think celebrating who Jesus actually probably was and believed in is a wonderful idea, kind of like celebrating Ghandi's or Buddha's beliefs, or the Tao. I believe they liked the same ideals. I love the Christmas season for a heightened sense of mindfulness in all areas, appreciation for loved ones, servanthood. Having said that, I do think the whole magic of Santa thing is seriously cool and my hypothetical future children will totally be leaving some cookies and milk on the dinner table.

And onto more seasonally appropriate topics... So, juice fasting: love it, turns out. I did two days, and day two was by far the best. No hunger on day two, although sinus headaches, yes. I was not prepared for the hightened clarity and mindfulness, and I've heard that after day four is when you usually start seeing those kinds of benefits. It is hard to express in words, but I would say that it is somehow spiritually and emotionally cathartic. You are forced to constantly process emotions and thoughts and let them flow. It reminds me of peeling an onion, or of blowing the clouds out of your little corner of the sky, one by one to see that the sky was always blue afterall...Even when it seemed a sea of grey.

Apparently, juice fasting is supposed to have some serious healing qualities (think a dog who stops eating when sick), as your body is releaved of the arduous task of digestion to focus on healing throughout your body. I (and B is with me, which adds to the fun) am just doing it for the emotional/spiritual side of the coin right now. When we have a real juicer, I'd like to consider a longer stint. Today, I'm taking off, but I'm thinking I'll go for Friday and Saturday and then off again at least for my mom's visit on Sunday/Monday. She wants to try our new favorite restaurant, which is vegan. In Dallas, cowboy!

Wednesday is our anniversary, so we will be eating out for some super fabulous meal in which we will sit at our table for longer than is smiled upon by social norms. I guarantee some cheese and wine will be in company. And desert. And Lavatzza coffee. We are on year 3. Six total years together, which is officially almost double my second biggest relationship. I am so such a big girl now. Year three was probably the hardest and the best. I think we got the most done in year three, at least, as far as our relationship is concerned. Year two might of actually been the harder. Yeah, revision: two was harder. Nothing scandalous, it's just that marriage is hard work and it can be hard to bypass the walls you didn't know you even had. Year one was easy at the time, but when I look back, I think we were somewhat distant from one another without really getting that.

Then comes the world tour. Friday, we are going to Kansas City to see B's parents and friends. And then into the more rural Kansas, to see grandma and smile at the place where we got married. THEN, we are going from there to Colorado; our friends invited us to go to a cabin with them. I am seriously excited, as Colorado is truly beautiful. And THEN, I'm back for a few days only to leave again for NYC with a girl I teach with. The best part is I get to see my friend, C, so we can pick up exactly where we left off, as usual.

I'm a genie in a bottle, baby.

My mother, who had me at 19, said that when I was in-utero, she carefully developed two life goals for me, two very important blessings she felt she had never had. Goal #1: May fetus grow to have longs legs. At 5 feet, 1 and ½ inches, she had apparently grown weary of standing on her tippy-toes and of walking two steps for everyone else’s one. And, she thought, it would be endlessly easier to shop for jeans.

Trite by some standards, but undoubtedly superior to any self-unattained goal I might have concocted had I been approaching parenthood at 19…Content-wise, that is; the goals themselves would have been top quality, by my most pop-psychology standards at least. By then, I had taken and dropped enough community college classes and watched enough Oprah shows to know that goals must be specific and framed into discrete periods of time.

For example: May said hypothetical child learn to shotgun cans of beer without turning nostril into power hose, by the age of 19. Very good goal, and I can tell you from unglamorous experience, very useful. Imaginary love-child goal #2: May said hypothetical child drunk dial, in hysterical Britney-esque fits of laughter and singing, less than 4 ex boyfriends between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m. on the average Saturday, by the age of 19. Definitely blessed with A+ goal-making abilities; really should have kept showing up to class. And it’s a good thing I never got pregnant.

Mom must have rubbed the right Genie’s lamp -or whatever they’re calling it these days- because her wish was granted. Atop painstakingly painted and then thoroughly worn and neglected nails and french-fry toes I happen to think endearing are two long legs, stretching up to my insidiously descending butt.

Unfortunately for mom (and some might say me), she neither took nor dropped enough community college classes by then to know about the specific and time-frame rules. If she had, she may have reframed her long-legs goal like this: May future child have consistently shaven size 4, 6 or 8, long slender legs, with less than 20% body fat and less than ten bruises and scars per leg, every day, forever- not just on the yo part a yo-yo diet.

The second goal was for me to be independent, but that is a whole other King Midas story.

watched youknowwhats never grow

Man, it's not fair how good today has been. First, it's been really beautiful today. Inspirational weather. I love the smell of fall. I love the mums. Apple cider. Wassail. The fact that there is a community pumpkin event coming up, to raise money for local kids who need it. I love seeing special little fall-themed desserts like apple tarts with caramel drizzle and sugar cookies painted into cream cheese frosting pumpkins at the store. Knowing I'll get to see all my family again at Thanksgiving. We all get together, like 30 or 40 of us, every Thanksgiving at my grandma's. We do things like play spoons, a dangerous game. We eat, and my midwestern relatives ask if I'm still a vegetarian, and it gets on my nerves for a split second until I realize what a waste that is. We walk around the pond, sit on the dock. Last year, I rummaged through a familiar suitcase which still held the dolls I played with as a little girl. They really feel like mine alone, but in a huge extended family, they've gone through more hair dressers than a Las Vegas drag queen. The barbie I couldn't find but really wanted to was the one's whose youknowwhats grew when you twisted her arm; anyone else have Growing Up Skipper? I think she stuck around until too many preteen girls sprained their arms trying to grow some of their own, and then Gloria Steinam barbie came along and beat everyone up with a fish and a bicycle.

Thinking of b**by barbie makes me think of all the strange mythologies your (okay, mine) family feeds you when you're a kid. My great grandma used to tell me that breasts grew when "they've been played with by boys." What?!

Worse yet, my mom and grandma always blamed my trips and falls on my angel....Your "angel" will make you do things like fall and stub your toe after you've lied or talked back...which lead me to basically give the finger to "my angel" growing up, instead, praying to Santa, who was always good to me.

Ah, Christmas. This is about when I start thinking about it; go ahead and judge me. I've been people watching lately. There is an energy this time of the year that floats around all of our heads; I'm not sure of the source. The holidays finally coming? Well, for me that's big. I love old Christmas films...It's a Wonderful Life...The Bishop's Wife...White Christmas. I keep meaning to order The Shop Around the Corner, the old Jimmy Stewart film off of which You've Got Mail was based. I'm thinking of fires, gloves, snow. Makes me miss Kansas...the least visited state in the union; I miss it a little right now... The people seem more simple, or their lives seem more simple at least. The fall leaves, I have to say, are far more complex. I bet the town where my husband and I met is blanketed with a tapestry of leaves hanging over the streets. I hope I always have a midwestern day-to-day life, but that also I perceive the joys in complexity.

One joy is that...I got a new job today! Title 1 school, which is all I've really experienced so far anyways..I'm going in for a MAJOR change, though, to teach second grade. Holy crap, I know. Since I entered a literacy graduate program and am interested in literacy as a social justice piece, I think it's important to see literacy at the primary level. It's weird how nervous I am!!

Another joy? Dates! Today, I made one and had one. I bought tickets to the Regina Spektor concert at the House of Blues in Dallas; this will make a great date. But seriously, it would be a "mature" day for growing up skipper. Husband date was fun, and now he is sleeping next to me, mumbling through some sort of medical dream. He got out of school seriously early today, which NEVER happens, so we got to spend a lot of time together. Had two baily's and coffee at dinner and we saw the new Wes Anders*n film. He writes the weirdest stories; I love it. I love the music he chooses, the aesthetics of his films, the way he makes simple moments into art. To me, it illustrates that art is in every moment...whether we see it depends on our perspecitive. I'm surprised that our westen culture accepts his films; they move slowly in a way that one is to enjoy each moment for what it is, not for the fact that you are hanging on for the plot to develop. I found myself bored at the beginning, and then I realized, "I'm not getting this. I'm expecting something else, and not appreciating what it really is."

It's so hard to be in the moment sometimes...I've been trying to appreciate and soak up where I am, whatever I'm doing...so today when I left the movie, I decided to take a look at the piano which was sitting, small and simply unadorned, outside the theater. As it turns out, it was the "Imagine" piano, on which John Lennon composed one of the most influential songs of all time! Who knew?! I took some pictures of it; maybe I'll upload them later...but the important thing I that I would not have even experienced this little piece of history if I had simply been on my way somewhere...I was in it for the moment, and it was a good one. A day full of good moments.

Let me see that tootsie roll

Labor Day Weekend: Fountain
Labor Day Weekend: Another Fountain
Labor Day Weekend: Fountain AND Preston and Tyler watching B walk away. Keep in mind that I'm behind them, perfectly interesting, snapping this photo...but they don't care, b/c they are all about B. Story of my life, people. (and by people, I mean 3 people...and that's okay!)
Here is Tyler rocking out to ACDC. This boy loves music, and he loves it to be rock. I tried to force Frank Sinatra on him shortly before this photo was taken, and he basically rolled his eyes at me. Here, he is in his true element.

You know, Tyler has always loved guitar. My dad plays guitar like a pro, and he always used to (and still does) play for my brother. Tyler used to scoot himself across the floor to wherever the guitar was, secret giggles bursting out as he approaches his acoustic island. Digging his teeth deeply into the edge of the body of the guitar (yes, my dad let him do this. sacrificial love.), he would reach his hand up and strum the strings, giggling as the sensation of the vibrations moved through his body. He would just sit there and drool over this guitar, just cracking up in contagious laughter. And my dad would let him do this, even though eventually the entire body of his guitar was lined with tooth marks like a nervous kid's number 2 pencil. My dad and T are best buds. One of the hardest thing for all of us was when it was time for Tyler to move to a group home.

Don't worry, we're all fine now. And obviously Tyler and I are fine, b/c we get to rock out to "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap."

*Also debuting in photo is new-to-me 1950's couch/hide-a-bed I bought on Craigslist. Moving it into the apartment was a serious threat to our marriage, but we made it through...Heavy-ass furniture makes me so mad, not to mention I have a problem with falling into a hysterical fit of laughter for no reason other than that it's a terrible time to laugh.

p.s. Lauren: A Tico breakfast is rice and beans, eggs and black coffee. Sometimes pineapple. Costa Rican's nicknamed themselves "Tico's," apparently b/c in their dialect, they tend to end words with "tico" as a suffix. Can I recall any such words? Uh, no. But that IS what I heard. Costa Rica is a special place, slow and simple life, beautiful and complex surroundings. More biodiversity than anywhere else in the world. And they gave up their army years ago for...education! They have one of the highest literacy rates in the world, although they are far from rich. I think you'd love it there, I really do. Maybe we could be neighbors?

if i could be wasting my time with you

Two years ago today, we were here, honeymooning in Costa Rica. Also known as future home. Really. Two years ago yesterday, we barely remember because it went so fast. Ah, weddings. Sometime I'll tell you about how someone started with a toast about how when B met me I swore I would never give in to the social construct of marriage, which is true. Well, true that I said that. Obviously I gave in. And, it has been great. I believe our relationship would have been great marriage or no marriage; however, there is something good and unanticipated that comes with the committment, and I'm not even sure if I can put it into words.

First of all, let's just get something out of the way: B and I danced to Phish's "Waste" for our wedding dance. Not exactly the usual timeless choice, I know. Go ahead and make fun; I'd do it too. Honestly, though, it was fitting. Here are some moments (good and bad) we have happily "wasted" together since we made it official...
...getting married at my favorite place: grandma's pond
...our labrador's debut as a groomsman (although B secretly considers him best man)
...Relaxing in the hot springs of La Fortuna, Costa Rica; relaxing rivers and streams heated by the Arenal Volcano
...Zip lining through the rainforest!
...protesting the war & the state marriage amendment together (which means being flipped off by people with pickup trucks together)
...B joined me in vegetarianism...I did NOT coerce him, promise.
...B making it through the MCAT (and scoring above 90th percentile!!!). We both deserve a high five for making it through this, as he turned into a mad scientist for several weeks. He thought only in math and science, which is not very romantic. Also, I don't believe he showered quite frequently enough.
...moving to Dallas, and spending HOURS and HOURS sitting outside in the terrace, relaxing.
...Spending time with my little bro and B together. My little bro LOVES B and even follows him around in his wheelchair some.
...Making it through my first year teaching
...Becoming members of a hot yoga studio
...Studying family systems together, which has done worlds for our relationship!
...Studying Buddhism together, which has done worlds for our spirits.

When I look back over our past, most of the exciting things we've done were before we got married, like white water rafting and ski trips with best friends...my first trip to New York...camping for two weeks in Austin and San Antonio...canoing, kayaking, rock climbing, etc, etc...but really, just like with friendships, the best times are the little times. With my friends, that has usually meant just hours and hours in coffee houses or at lunch. With B, it's the dinners that we make together, our secret shame of going out to eat, and the ability to sit at a book store for an ungodly number of hours.

And now, we approach a couple more life changes. Next week, B starts medical school. We are both excited and yet a little afraid. It is one of those things in which you pretty much know that you'll be fine, but wonder, "what if?" In a way, we feel like we're saying goodbye for awhile, and it's sad. We're soaking one another up this week; we've decared this week "vacation at home." I know there are bigger problems in the world, but in our little corner (rincon pequeno, you see, my spanish is getting better!), this is the thought of the day. Our relationship has grown leaps and bounds in the past six months, even, and I think we've come to both appreciate how blessed we feel to share something so special. It is not all scary; I've got plenty to keep me busy. I'll have a new job (more on that later, still teaching! It's good news.), and am working on my master's (I got in to the Master's of Social Work program, yeah). I'm going to visit a best friend in New Jersey in a couple of weeks...and, I keep saying I'll get more involved with local politics/activism. I've already found a local organization I love (see Central Dallas Ministries link!); I just need to get started. Maybe I can finally show Barack how much I love him, too. B and I have lots of ideas for how we'll safeguard our relationship during the next eight (yes, eight!) years of craziness. We know we'll be okay, but we also know we'll miss eachother.

This moment (below) is important to me for other reasons. Although I was not your typical bride and honestly felt a little coerced (although I did end up having the best day!) into the whole traditional wedding thing by my VERY excited mother (and believe it or not, my husband, who later changed his mind and tried to go back in time to elope), I did have a little wedding stressor, which was that the tent guy forgot the sides to the little tent. This is actually sort of an important tent, b/c it's where you're supposed to hang out with your wedding party until you walk down the isle. My girlfriends/bridesmaids and a couple of special cousins actually constructed some sides out of tulle and clothes pins. Then, they surprised me with mimosas (I had mentioned in passing I could use one- like I said, not a good bride. Then, they went around a circle making individual toasts. I get goose bumps thinking about it... I make AMAZING friends. Amazing.

And I know you're dying for the lyrics to Waste...

Dont want to be an actor pretending on the stage
Dont want to be a writer with my thoughts out on the page
Dont want to be a painter cause everyone comes to look
Dont want to be anything where my lifes an open book

A dream its true
But Id see it through
If I could be
Wasting my time with you

Dont want to be a farmer working in the sun
Dont want to be an outlaw always on the run
Dont want to be a climber reaching for the top
Dont want to be anything where I dont know when to stop

A dream its true
But Id see it through
If I could be
Wasting my time with you

So if Im inside your head
Dont believe what you might have read
Youll see what I might have said
To hear it

Come waste your time with me
Come waste your time with me

So if Im inside your head
Dont believe what you might have read
Youll see what I might have said
To hear it

Come waste your time with me

we are family.

My brother came to visit a couple of weeks ago, and we all had the best time. (He's coming again this weekend) I think he had fun. We cooked out, and Tyler got to get his "roll on", rolling his wheelchair all over the courtyard; it is not usual for him to get that much freedom, one of the downfalls of a handicap like this.

Other than the fact that we refuse to live in the suburbs (you either get this or you don't), finding something that worked well for our special situation was probably the biggest factor in the apartment/community that we chose to live in. I wanted something that was obviously handicap accessible (which is not as common as you may think), and then I also wanted a really safe neighborhood where I wouldn't be worried to take him for walks alone. You might be surprised how vulnerable you feel when it's you and then a 170lb individual who is 100% wheelchair dependent. It was different when I could lift him on my own; now that he's outgrown me, not so much. I also wanted a place with a great courtyard, so that we could let him do his own thing, something he hardly ever gets to do. So, yes, we pay too much and it is a giant step up from the 300 sq ft basement apt we had back in KS, but it is worth every penny.

It is good for me, too, expands my mind some. I used to be such a judger of people who wanted conventional things (fancy schmancy cars, boob jobs), and let me tell you, my neighborhood is full of that. But, who am I to judge? Worse than any 'judgee,' I can tell you that. True, I have the most fun in like-minded company, but, like the Maya Angelou said, "We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." How can I want peace, yet not BE peace? "Be the change you wish to see in the world," Mahatma Gandhi said. Be the peace. Even to the plasticy ones.

Anyways, it took Tyler a long time to fall asleep. He just laid there, smiling at me when I came to check on him. Usually, I don't have him spend the night, but I believe I always will from now on because it was very special. I lay with him for awhile, and ran my fingers through his hair, like I did when we were little kids. Of course, he does not speak, but he smiles when I do this. As I've mentioned before, we were separated in childhood a couple of years after our parents divorced. The summer that it happened, we both went to visit my dad, as usual, but only I returned to Kansas. Every summer I came to visit, and leaving was the hardest thing to do. I remember my dad telling me that Tyler would wheel his chair around the house, looking for me after I had gone back home. I can't tell you how much it really felt like part of my soul was missing during that time; I was so used to him needing me, and then he was gone. He still needed me, I just wasn't there. I don't know why I felt so guilty, but it was overwhelming. I remember having dreams of his funeral, and I wasn't invited. Somewhere along the way, I healed; but it was still natural for me to come to him. I think that is just what we do for family, if they need us. Sure, it's inconvenient at times. Sure, it stands in the way of some of my dreams of running off to a lesser developed country to make my life by the beach. But, maybe the new plans, the plans that life is always throwing at us, are better than what I had invisioned in my finite mind. Like Joseph Campbell said, "We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

bittersweet (and not me pole dancing)

Sweet...
My brother (who is severely handicapped) graduated high school this weekend. He didn't freak the out or have a seizure from all of the flashing lights. We had a great celebration of him. No family fights, in spite of my worries of such.

Bitter...
No more place to go every day for my brother; now, he'll just stay in his group home during the day, which is a lot less enrichment.

Sweet...
He had a great visit at my house, and I had a little family gathering at my house after his graduation luncheon. Good food. Lettering on the cake turned out pretty (thanks, me!). Beautiful weather. No, BEAUTIFUL!

Bitter...
Changing my brother's "number two" daiper. Enough said.

Sweet...
Summer is almost here, and my first year of teaching is almost over...Which means that the main  reason I moved here (to hang out with my brother) can finally get some real attention.

Sweet...
My brother, who seems that he can "give" nothing back. This, if we let it, teaches us much more about life & love than if he could do more. My journey to understanding, when it comes to my brother, has been long; honestly, it has been very painful. The peace and blessings on the other side of the journey have far outweighed all of the pain. Some people's brothers stand up for them, support them, advise them. My brother teaches with silence. With dirty diapers and even drool.

Bittersweet...
Tyler's graduation
dark chocolate
family
wine
love
friendships
life
...all the good things.


Now, I need to go throw up, because I sound like a greeting card. Again.

o' chanukah tree

Spent the afternoon with my mom who came into town to visit. She bought me this tiny, tiny Christmas tree, and then we bought all of these tiny, tiny decorations for it! It is ADORABLE! I decorated it all in pearly silveryness--you know, to be multicultural. Okay, so it's a sad attempt at encouraging cultural diversity, but since my husband is Jewish, I try to stick to blues and silvers insteads of reds & greens...and snowflakes instead of Santas...The funny thing is I don't think that Bruce could care less, even if I walked around in a Santa costume. Secretly, I just like it more. Wanna know something funny about life in the midwest? My husband was only the second Jewish person that I had ever known--we mostly just had white, Christian, republicans in my home town--and some grain elevators.

We were the poor people. We lived in a trailer behind my grandma's house. The cool thing about trailers is that all you have to do to see who's home is turn your head to the left and then to the right. The bad thing about trailers is that some of them, like ours, still have the tail lights, and rain is surprisingly loud when falling on a tin roof. At any rate, I must have gone to a good school or just met some good people, because I never felt ashamed that I lived in a trailer or had free lunches. I was really curious about people who had more money than we did, and I was sort of suspicious of them. Maybe I thought that they were rude because they didn't share. Maybe I was a com-mie child? :)

Anyways, I came home from hanging out with my mom, put on my COMFY pj pants and made myself wheat pasta with sauteed vegetables and tomato sauce. It reminded me of pasta putenesca from a series of unforunate events. I had green tea, too. My plan is to pick up a little, study a little, do a little yoga.

happy birthday, tyler.

this is my brother. today is his birthday. i just remembered this a couple of hours ago, but that is o.k. because he does not know it is his birthday. he has cerebral palsy. he's non-communicative (traditionally speaking, that is) and he lives in dallas, so i can't just call him up or send him a letter that he will know is from me. Few things in life have confused me so much as being "the o.k. one." "Survivor's guilt for a disabled or sick sibling can be truly unbelievable; at least it is not unbearable anymore, though. i try to remember that god is probably smarter than me, and that for me to walk around miserable and feeling sorry for my brother means that i assume i have something that he does not...which is pretty presumptuous. i can only hope that the secret universe inside his head is bright and wonderful beyond the limitations of the tangible world that i reside in.

solitude, i guess.

I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. ~Henry David Thoreau, "Solitude," Walden, 1854

Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that's where I renew my springs that never dry up. ~Pearl Buck