Day 30 the second day of Christmas-work in progress

My child keeps reminding me how close it is to Christmas.  I feel unready. I've bought most of my gifts- but we plan to travel this Christmas, which means extra planning and I'm not ready!  I was yelling that at my children in the parking lot yesterday as they pestered me about putting up the Christmas decorations, making Christmas cookies and getting pictures with Santa.  "I'm NOT READY!"   The people walking past me in the parking lot were probably thinking, 'that's a mom on the edge.'

December 2nd- I need a plan
2 Monday get out the decorations, clear out the spaces for some (not all) decorations/give advent calendars
3 Tuesday- pictures with Santa@ Christkindel /TCU tree lighting?
4 Wednesday- Christmas cards/ Marzi's work recognition?
5 Thursday-  Christmas cards/
6 Friday- have all packages ready for kids trees/RSVP cookie exchange Dottie Lynn
X-mas faire /give girls trees with decorations
7 Saturday-
8 Sunday-
9 Monday-
10 Tuesday- last ice skating for yellow session
11 Wednesday-
12 Thursday- last day of IEP
13 Friday (!)-
14 Saturday-pictures with super frog?/cookie exchange?
15 Sunday-
16 Monday-
17 Tuesday-
18 Wednesday-
19 Thursday- heading out?
20 Friday-Grades due ESOL/TESL
21 Saturday-
22 Sunday-
23 Monday-
24 Tuesday-
25 Wednesday-

Things to add in:

Interlocken lights
shopping with girls for sisters (5 below)

Day 29 Thriller

I just showed my class the extended Thriller video by Michael Jackson.  They had so many questions and observations-

"Why is he so happy when his girlfriend is scared?"
"What are those things coming up out of the ground?"
"Oh no! What are they going to do?"
"Why is she running to that house?!"
"Doesn't she know they are going to eat her?!"

as well as:

"Michael Jackson was so young."
"He was so thin!"
"He looks really different."
"He was black!  I didn't know that."

The 80s- what a time to be alive.

Day 28 JP and the hair

In a dream, I was talking to JP in his lab.  There was some small talk and then he said, “So, are you ready?”
I said, “Yeah!” and I propped my leg up on the table.  I pulled my pant leg up and revealed a Very Hairy leg.  I mean, I am a hairy girl, but this leg … even I was impressed with the quantity and quality of the hair presented on my leg.  It was black and full, and glossy- like a well-fed and groomed gorilla’s leg.

JP said, “It looks great! Just go down the hall and turn left.  My lab tech is in a room on the right.  He will wax your legs.”

I said, “Okay,” then I started walking toward the lab tech/leg waxer.

In my dream at this point, the situation struck me as a little odd. 

First of all, in real life I’ve visited JP’s lab approximately never times, also I don’t have well-groomed gorilla leg hair in real life. 

In my dream, I rationalized the situation by telling myself, even though I didn’t really know why I was letting JP’s lab tech wax my legs, I’m sure it was of some benefit to JP and his research.  He was probably researching how to cure male pattern baldness, and something about my luxurious leg hair and follicles was going to lead him to a glorious insight about how to stimulate inactive scalp hair follicles and ‘cure’ baldness once and for all! 

Why would I think this?

JP was bald when I met him.  We were in our 20s.  It is unusual for a man in his 20s to be bald, but since he was already bald when I met him, I never thought it was unusual for him.  When I think about JP now- I don’t remember him by what he looked like.  I remember him by our interactions, and his attributes I noticed because of those interactions.

I think everyone would agree that JP was (and still is I’m sure) very smart. Back then he was studying biochemistry and working in a cancer research lab. I think fewer people knew that JP’s first language was not English.  Although he seemed to perceive in himself some deficiency in English, in fact, his pronunciation was American native-English-speaker and his spoken and literary vocabulary and fluency were by far better than most US-born university graduates. He came across as well read in not only science but also religion, philosophy, social theory and of course general world knowledge. (Which again is far better than can be said for most US-born university graduates.) 

JP was funny and curious, and most importantly- JP was kind, and I’m sure he still is.

I am an introvert and JP was an introvert; so, it seems odd to me that the first memories that came to me when I started thinking about JP were all at parties.

-------------------------------------

JP and I are at a party.  We are sitting on the floor in a corner from which we can see both the front door and the center of the room.  We are talking to each other about the people we know and the people we don’t know.  We are making observations about what is happening and predicting what will happen next.  He says, “What do you think will happen if I go over there and . . .”  He proposes some outlandish course of action and sets in for that action before I answer.

JP was willing to watch, discuss and take action too.

----------------------

JP and I are at a (different) party.  I’m sitting on a sofa.  He’s sitting on a stool in the center of the room.  I watch as people he knows and people he doesn’t know walk up to him and chat, as though he is some sort of interactive display at a museum.  I notice one particularly long conversation with a girl we’ve just met.  As I walk by to get a drink, I hear a bit of their conversation.

JP says, “Oh really?  That’s interesting, can you tell me more about that?”

She says, “Yes, it means . . .” and she proceeds to expound in great, and somewhat inaccurate detail about a topic which I know full well he knows more about than most people in the room, including the new girl.

When I walk past again, I catch his eye. There’s a sparkle there; he is really enjoying this conversation.

When they are finished, I go back to his ‘interactive display’ and say, “Why did you ask her to explain more about a topic you know more about than she does?”

He says, “I wanted to know what she knew.  I wanted to know her perspective.  I knew it would be different from mine.”

I say, “Did you learn something?”

“Oh yes,” he replies, “I learned so much.”

“I don’t suppose you told her you have taken several classes on that subject?” I ask.

“No,” he says, “no need for that.”

JP made it a point to have time to listen to other people, even when he knew what they were probably going to say.

-------------------------

JP and I are at Mardi Gras in New Orleans. We are standing shoulder to shoulder in the French Quarter with thousands of drunk people.  Our feet are planted on the pavement, but the crowd is undulating like a flag in the wind.  I look at him wondering to myself “What are we doing here?”  He looks at me like he knows what I’m thinking but doesn’t know the answer.

JP pretty much always up for an adventure.

---------------------------

‘Crazy Betty,’ my roommate is hysterical when I walk in the apartment.  She says, “I think a terrorist called us!” 

It’s late in 2001 and she’s already told me she thinks I might work for the CIA. I denied it of course, but isn’t that exactly what a CIA agent would do?  I calmly ask, “Oh? Why do you think that?” 

She says, “Listen to this phone message!”  She hits play.  It’s JP ranting something in Arabic, laughing manically and hanging up.

I cover my mouth the hide the smile. I cough.  “It was probably just a wrong number,” I say.

She looks skeptical.

JP was a cheeky monkey.

------------------------------

I’m standing next to JP at a party.  Someone walks up and introduces herself.  She says, “Hi my name is  …”

He says, “Hi, this is Shannon, and my name is K…”

She says, “K…” rolling the name she’s never encountered before around her tongue.

I just look at him.

The girl walks away.  I say, “Why did you tell her your name is “K…?”

He says, “Because, that’s my name.”

I say, “Then why have I been calling you JP all this time?”

He says, “That was my nickname, but I think I’ll go by my name now.”

“Did you just decide that right now?” I’m somewhat incredulous about this name revelation.

“Yeah,” he says, and walks off.

JP was unexpected on a regular basis.

----------------------------------------

In my dream, I walked into the room where the lab tech had his back to me.  He didn’t notice me, and suddenly I got the feeling that the whole situation was really weird.  Why was I getting my furry leg waxed by a lab tech?  I walked out of the room before he noticed me.

When I got back into the hall JP was walking towards me.  He said, “What’s going on?” 

I was embarrassed.  I wanted to help him, but it was all so strange. 

I said, “Oh, I wasn’t sure if this was the right room.” 

He said, “Yes, come on, I’ll introduce you!”

We went into the room and while he was introducing me to the lab tech his boss walked into the room.  His boss was praising him and telling him how happy he was about this hair research.

I thought again this must have something to do with male pattern baldness, but when I looked at the three men in the room, they all had beautifully full heads of hair. 

Then I thought, ‘I was wrong to suppose this was about selfish ambition or personal benefit,’

and I also thought, ‘has he always had that hair?’

and I also thought, ‘that’s really nice hair.’

The ‘procedure’ was accomplished as planned, and I gave my goodbyes to the tech.  On my way out I passed a lecture hall.  The boss-guy was presenting a case study. I stopped by the door and heard him talking about a terrible disease.  Hundreds of people had already died, and many more would die if they could not find a cure.  The only thing that all the victims had in common was unexplained hair loss.  He was very excited to announce that he and his staff were currently conducting research using healthy (glossy, furry-monkey-leg-hair) donated fresh hair follicles to crack the case.

And so- I learned, do not assume you know the whole story. You will rarely know the whole story- unless it is your story. 

It’s okay to ask. 

It’s also okay for the answer to be, ‘I’m not ready to share right now.’

It’s okay to get your monkey-leg-hair waxed by a lab tech in the name of research.

day 27 cinnamon

The children of an English Teacher:

L: How do you spell 'pool?'
E: P -o-o
L: O?
E: O-o
L: O-o?
E: Yes, O-o
L: Oh! O.  Hey, 'oh' and 'o' are the same, but not the same.
E: Yeah, they're synomoms.
L: They are not cinnamons!
E: I didn't say cinnamons! I said synomoms!
L: What's a synomom?
E: It's when two words sound the same, but they have different meanings.
L: Oh! That's good.

Me listening from the front seat: This is wrong on so many levels.

day 26 that's true

I haven't been feeling great lately and had not eaten a lot,  so I was a little hungry.  I was standing in line.  The woman behind me was talking, "blah-blah-blah-taco." 
My stomach said, "Yes, that's true."
My brain said, "Oh you don't!"
Stomach plaintively said, "taco."
Brain said, "NO! we have leftovers at home!"
Stomach growled, "Taco!"
Brain would not give in, "So Many Leftovers!"
Stomach was sullen.
Brain thought she had a good compromise.
The 'leftovers' turned out to be rum raisin ice cream and Totinos pizza rolls.

Stomach; however, has not forgotten.  "Yes, that's true."

DAY 25 PARENTAL APPROVAL RATING: LOW

The parental approval rating is currently LOW for the middle child who is upset because; 1. I'm not magic 2. I didn't fix the unfixable thing 3. I lost her fitted sheet (I don't know...) 4. it's an hour and a half past bedtime, and she can't find broccoli (which is her favorite stuffed toy.) The rating is only slightly higher for the oldest because I didn't let them sleep in the living room even though they "don't have school tomorrow and it's a special day since it is Lailah's birthday!" (all in one breath)  It's at about 50 percent for the baby at the moment but is predicted to plummet once I take action to put her in bed.

A bad chest cold- hey I just learned that bronchitis is a chest cold.  Yesterday  a nurse in the family said, "Sounds like you might be getting bronchitis!"  I said, "I hope not!  It's just a bad cold."  I thought bronchitis was something much worse than a cold- but I just learned from WEB MD that it is the same as a chest cold- she was right- bronchitis it is- bleh.

It's fall break for me and the girls today and tomorrow. 
D came home and said, "You kept them all day?"
I said, "Yeah." 
He said, "Why didn't you take them to daycare?" 
I said, 'I wasn't thinking straight." 
He said, "Yeah I noticed that you took them for a walk ... in the rain." 
I said, "Well, it was a warm sprinkle, but again, not thinking straight."

 “When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it.”

Winnie-the-Pooh Quotes by A.A. Milne - Goodreads

day 24 girl with cat

Girl with Cat by Ammi Phillips  1814

I've been to the Amon Carter Museum several times.  Sometimes this portrait is displayed.  I love it.
The first time I saw it I saw a description that said something to the effect that in the early 1800s there were traveling artists who would paint portraits.  Of course, the artists who were very good could charge more, so they had the upper-class clientele. The ones who were not so good could still find work in the middle class.  Many times the name of the artist was unknown for these middle-class artists. 
This piece was attributed to Ammi Philips- who was a traveling artist.  I'm sure the art people to grouped this painting with Ammi Philips' other works know more about technique and style than I do, but, I didn't see any other portraits which have been attributed to him with these crazy eyes.

The first time I saw it I thought, "Whoa! Look at those crazy eyes on that girl."  I wonder if she really had those crazy eyes, or if the painter was having a really bad day and said, 'Screw it! That's as good as it gets!'" Then I looked at the cat's eyes and I felt it was more likely the second option. That cat has creepy-people eyes. 

I don't know where that girl is looking, or why one eye is bigger.  Maybe she really did look like that- bless her.  It's just that usually artists would romanticize portraits.  They would fix flaws, but this artist's 'leitmotif' (I just learned that word, it means "a recurrent theme throughout a musical or literary composition, associated with a particular person, idea, or situation.") was that he would create “correct likenesses.” 

If this is a 'correct likeness' I guess I'm more worried about the cat than the girl.


1815c MaryAnn Gale

Also attributed to Phillips.   Same chair, similar curtain, strong jaw, but much less crazy-in-the-eyes, although I suppose the right one does look bigger than the left. Looks like her cat ran away.


1820c Nancy Caldwell Church Robinson

Look at her with the book, the chair and the curtain, no cat and really normal-looking eyes!  I totally believe she looked like this.

day 23 5:23 am

There is no good reason to be awake at 5:23 am. The problem is I've been awake for much longer than that- but since I don't have a working watch, my phone wasn't charged and Alexa thought I said, "Set an alarm for 5:15" instead of  "5:50" I decided to get up.

Maybe it's anxiety.  I don't have it together.  I can't get it together.  Every time I even start to get my crap together someone comes along and scatters the crap to the four corners.  That's not even metaphorical. I mean literally, boxes of junk I've gathered to throw away, donate, sort through to redistribute in more logical places- scattered by someone- usually a very short and cute someone, but also sometimes just by me because I'm looking for something frantically.

Laundry, dishes, dirty bathrooms- toys everywhere and of course the scattered junk.  So, when I get up early, what do I do to alleviate the anxiety?  Blog of course.  I have goals to meet.

I'll do useful things too- I'm already charging my phone and my watch.  I'll make some tea and maybe fold some laundry.  It's almost time to get up anyway.

day 22 30 days 365 days

I started my 30 day challenge at the beginning of November last year- this is my pathetic chance to actually finish my 30 days before the end of a year.  I have 20+ days to think of and write 9 more blogs. It's possible.
Ha!
Make that 8 more blogs- I'm counting this one!
There are no further details.  This is my game-my made up rules!

day 21 be nice

Last night I had one of those dreams that keeps you thinking about it all day.  

       I’ve had all kinds of dreams that do this to me.  I’ve had prophetic dreams, dreams which contained people, places or things which symbolized issues and concerns I was facing and dreams like this.  They are dreams from which I wake up with a realization.  I know the realization will be something that I’ll need to ponder- really consider carefully- and possibly take action on.

Last night I dreamed many things- a jumble of places and faces- but one part of the dream has had me thinking.  I dreamed of an old friend.  It is a repeat version of a dream I’ve had several times before. I dreamed that quite by accident I ran into a friend from many years ago.

Now, there are friends you have for many years- whom you love. There are friends who come and go- whom you have loved. Then, no matter how brief the time you spend together, or no matter how long you’ve been apart, there are friends whom you have loved and love- dearly.  It’s an indefinite love- you can’t put your finger on what it was that bound you together in the first place.  It’s improbable. It’s a friendship that was and is and is to come- Seeing this friend in my dreams is a glimpse of heaven- since that is the next place I expect to see him.

In the dream I was walking into a building; he was walking out. He was looking down, so I saw him first.  I stepped into his path and when he looked up I knew he recognized me. I was pleased in the dream because it’s been a really long time. What my dream-self did not register was the look of social panic he expressed, the awkwardness of his greeting, the unstated desire to be anywhere but standing in front of me.

That was it.

I woke up and my conscious brain began to understand what my unconscious brain was trying to tell me.

It was a process- When I first woke up I thought as I have in the past, ‘Well, it was nice to see him again.’

As I thought about it later in the morning-  I realized that he had been trying to avoid me.  I didn’t really like that idea.  I was still thinking about it halfway through the day when I realized that all my dreams that included him were similar, and one of those similarities was that he was trying to avoid me. In the past that had not really bothered me, but today I found myself greatly affected by the idea.

Here I am- all offended  by my unconscious brain’s imagined meeting with a representation of a dude who is just out there somewhere, minding his own business, busy with his own life, and not worried about people he hasn't seen in a million years - neither is he concerned for how my feelings were hurt by what never happed- or that  I was blaming him for it all day.

So now I’m all down about being avoided, and I remember something he used to say.

I would say, “See you tomorrow.”

He would cheerfully say, “Not if I see you first!” and flash a dazzling smile.

Well- there are some people who say things like that and flash a smile- and you know they are kidding.

There are other people who say things like that and you wonder if you have miscalculated the true nature of the relationship.

I had always assumed he was the first kind of person, but now I was beginning to wonder …

Finally, on my way home from work- I began to understand the dream(s); my feelings, and more about life and God in general.

I believe God was showing me what most people feel when they are avoided. Why would God need to show me that? Well probably because I avoid most people a lot of the time.  I also rarely mind being avoided- since if someone else is going to the trouble of avoiding me, it means I don’t need to go to the trouble of avoiding them.  I’m what normal humans call anti-social.  I think it runs in the family.  The struggle is real for extreme introverts. It’s probably the only thing I’m extreme about.  I know many people would say that doesn’t describe me at all.  That’s because I’ve used all my social energies interacting with them (usually at work) so the rest of the time I’m all, “Go away—forever, but not really because I love you. But still-- go away-- for now.”

The take away is this:

I should, (must) make an effort to stop avoiding people. It may make them feel sad, unsure of themselves and relationships in general. So- you know-

Be Nice.

That’s it.

It’s not always deep and dark.  Sometimes it is easy and it just takes a while to get through to my silly brain.

It was and is and is still to come on the other side- I hope that is still true for you.  I truly have all the best wishes and feelings for you- I'm over my bad imaginary situations feelings.  :)
Philos, friend.

day 20- facebook memories

 I stole this from my own facebook-
In academic circles it is self-plagiarism- how stupid ... but not getting into that- 
THIS

Shannon Dawn Burnham

August 9, 2018 · 

Last Christmas

Me: Girls, go find that pumpkin you took upstairs.
Girls : What pumpkin?
Me: The one we had to buy at Thanksgiving because I cooked the Halloween one.

They look at me like I'm crazy. Like they weren't the ones who took the pumpkin upstairs and slept with it like it was a stuffed animal. Like they weren't the ones who had taken all the decorative pumpkins and gourds to make a pumpkin family. They look at me like I'm asking them to recite the names of all the people who drown when the Titanic sank.

Me: Girls, I have all the pumpkins and gourds except one. Now go find it before it gets moldy and ruins your stuff.

They go off to their impossible task.
They come back.

Girls : It's not there.

Daniel goes up with them makes them look through every box and bin.
They all say it's not there.
While cleaning my office today I found the pumpkin.

I FOUND THE PUMPKIN!
Grossly mysterious.

day 19 baby cat

Each girl has had an animal name.  From the time they were little babies, it was just a nickname that I called them.
The first one was a baby monkey- her bright eyes and expressive face said "monkey" to me.
The second one was a baby bird- (an angry bird) she was always squawking at me for more food.
The third one is a baby cat- she is excellent at both adoring you and ignoring you. She will curl up next to you with all the love, and she'll knock things off the table just to see what will happen next.

The baby cat has been sick for about a week- for about a week she has been my constant companion.  Whatever she's doing, she's doing it right next to me.  Eating, sleeping, crying, screaming, spitting out medication- by my side all the way.  She will sometimes allow her father to take over- but then back to me.

Since she's been sick, her sleep schedule has been way off- but today she woke up at a normal time, and she was ready for a nap at a normal time- the problem was I wasn't quite ready- so she wandered off down the hall by herself.  I heard her in the bedroom, "Mama! Mama!"  By the time I got down the hall she had climbed in bed, tucked herself in, and gone to sleep.

She's feeling better, but still not 100%.

day 18 another time, jonny

It was another dream . . . a dream of an old friend.  A friend from another time- another century- a time when writing letters was a non-retro form of communication- a sweet time.

So- JonnyReb this is how we met again this morning.  We were at an event- in a way -an event for you.  You were leaving with a group for a medical mission. 

I was part of a support group. We saw each other and wanted to talk, but there were so many people, we didn't have the opportunity.  It's not that we couldn't talk in front of other people, what would we have to say except, "Long time!" "What have you been doing?" "It's good to see you!" and "Have I told you today that you're my friend?" It's been a long time sweet friend.

Finally, just before you left there was a moment for a smile and a hug, "Goodbye, good to see you."
"I've missed you, good luck." And through the exchange, we knew so much more about one another.  We knew so much had changed for each of us.  We were living different lives.  We were so different then- and now even more so. 

What did we have?

That's a sad realization for anyone at any time. 

But it wasn't as sad as it might have been.  Even in the dream, I knew- there's a season for everything.  Some seasons are long, some are short.  A short season of friendship is sweet.  A life long relationship is sweet.  The little one, who spent a miserable weekend with raging ear infections in both ears, still hot with fever, snuggled up next to me in the bed- she's sweet.  The losses and the gains, the wins and defeats, the ups and downs, and all the plateaus- work together to make one sweet life.  Sometimes bittersweet, sometimes hard to swallow- always what's mine and what I can make of it, regardless of what others decide to do, what judgments they make about me or what I do, even the mistakes I make- all together to make life

sweet.

day 17 dream a little dream

Every vacation day seems to have its own reasons to stay in bed a little longer- we got to bed late, my little one had a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep, but this morning it was a dream that kept me in bed. 

I was dreaming about my little boy.  He was blue eyes and blonde hair.  His little round face smiled at me, he was about three years old and he was beautiful. 

In the dream, I could see him and I could touch him.  I was his mama, but he wasn't mine.  His eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed- he had a fever.  I needed to hold him, but he wasn't mine.  I couldn't take him home. 

I wanted to give him a gift to keep him company in the place that wasn't home, not my home, not our home.  I wanted to give him a toy to hold, but I didn't know what to give him.  I didn't know what he liked. How can a mother not know what her son likes?  I had to ask his caretaker- a kind sympathetic man.  I had to ask, "Does my boy like trucks? dinosaurs? sharks? What does he like?  Why don't I know?  I should know!  I'm his mother.  I should know what he likes!"

The man said, "He will like what you give him.  He'll like anything you want to give him."

I woke up, but I closed my eyes again.  I needed to see him again.  I needed to give him something to hold- because I can't hold him.

I wish I could have held him- even in a little dream.

Day 16 not evil hair

My seven-year-old was chattering to me the other day. She jumps from topic to topic like a squirrel on crack, so sometimes I give up on following the flow of consciousness she's producing.  I heard her say, "I like your hair." 
I said, "Thanks."
She said, " ... chatter, chatter, chatter, but it doesn't mean you're evil."
Me: "Wait, what?  Did you just say I was evil?"
Her: "No, I said you're not evil, because of your hair."
Me: "Why would my hair be evil."
Her: "Well, you have the white stripe."
Me: "Yeah- I do."
Her: "The evil people on TV have a white stripe in their hair."
Me: "They
do?"
Her: "Yeah, but you aren't evil.  You are nice, except when you are mean to me."
Me: "Wait, what? ..."

day 15- 10,000 bees not in the greenhouse

In my imagination, I'm a gardener.  I grow tomatoes and peppers, sunflowers, and rather ambitiously I even grow (in my very fertile imagination) loofas.  I just found out a few years ago that you could grow loofas in a garden.  I had previously thought them to be a rather unfortunate sea creature who had given its life in the name of exfoliation.

In my reality, I'm a serial plant killer.  Every year I either plant seeds or buy a few plants.  My seeds sprout dutifully, then the carnage.  I occasionally coax a plant into flowering. I very rarely manage to convince a plant to produce fruit.  I generally end the summer with a 'crop' of two small tomatoes and a shriveled up (single) okra finger.

I bought a composter a few years ago.  I composted all kinds of stuff.  I wasn't a good compost master.  I would forget to add 'browns.'  I would forget to add water. I would put in large bits of stuff.  (I kind of wanted to know what would happen to them.)  There were maggots in my compost- I don't know if that was good or not.  I should have given it a starter, I should have given it worms.  I should have cared ... meh.  I'm a terrible composter.

I bought a small collapsible greenhouse this spring.  We got it put together and placed neatly outside my kitchen window where I could attend to it more easily than the composter (which was inconveniently out in the back yard.)  I had a few dead plants in there.  It was made out of plastic canvas, and metal rods.  It was very tent-like.  It had been blown around in the wind a few times, so it was anchored down with two cinder blocks.  I hadn't used it much in the spring, as we were late in getting it ready, but I thought surely I'll have use for it in the fall when the temps start dipping and I need a place to keep my not-dead-yet plants covered.

Last week I learned there was a beehive of probably 10,000 bees living in my composter.  While I don't know the exact date of my last interaction with the composter, I know it was between 6-8 weeks ago.  Bees can swarm and start creating their hive in a matter of days- so even if it hadn't been that long this could have happened when I wasn't looking.  Once we realized the bees had moved in I called a bee remover (and keeper).  When he saw my composter he said, "Oh, those are good little composters, but they are even better bee hives!"  and "this is probably the 8th removal I've made from models just like that."  and "I can take the bees out, but most likely other bees will move in, since they will smell the last bees and figure it is a good place."  Ugh!  For $50 and the cost of the composter, my bees have been moved to a nearby farm to live happily ever after.

The story of the greenhouse is less redemptive.  I went outside this morning after a 'microburst' wind storm last night.  and I saw a cinder block in the place where my greenhouse used to be.  Just one cinder block, and no greenhouse.  It wasn't blown over, or broken, or blown out of place, it was straight up gone.  My husband drove all over the neighborhood looking for my greenhouse.  It was not in our yard, the neighbors' yards, the street, the drainage ditch, it was not here, it was not there, NO! it was not anywhere!

What this means to me is that either 1. I should give up gardening or 2. find a way to get a better greenhouse and a better composter.  (And figure out a way to stop murdering my plant babies.)

DAY 14 SHORT STORIES

Many years ago I bought a book called Zombies vs Unicorns.  I bought it because it was called Zombies vs Unicorns. I was sure that I needed that book on my bookshelf regardless of its content.  The title was enough for me.  The cover is pretty great too.  Not so long ago I decided I should read this very amusingly titled book.  I opened it up to find it was a collection of short stories which alternated between zombies and unicorns.  Well, short stories have never been my favorite sort of reading, but I started in any way. Each story is prefaced by a note from the editors commenting on which side of the zombie/unicorn battle has a better chance and briefly commenting on the merit of the content of the story as it supports one side or the other. 

The first story, "Highest Justice," by Garth Nix is about a unicorn which can bring life back to the dead.  At first, the dead person seems whole and hale, but as time passes the blessing is reduced and the dead begins to fall back into decay becoming a zombie. I thought that was a pretty clever start.  There was a virgin princess, a dead queen, and a cheat king- all great stuff- and it wrapped up nicely at the end.

It was in the second story when I started to remember that I never really liked short story collections.

"Love Will Tear Us Apart," by Alaya Johnson was about a young zombie who was only partially infected- he wanted to eat people, but he could control his hunger for a time-- ok.  The descriptions of the zombie hunger were clever.  Since he was a lucid zombie (good twist) he could talk about his feelings and desires.  The zombie character was well developed. The love interest and disapproving dad combo a bit week.  I was disappointed by the ending. The ending could have been the beginning of another
story or book, but I wouldn't have committed to reading it. 

"Purity Test," by Naomi Novik was a tongue-in-cheek story about a modern day unicorn who went to NYC to find a virgin to help him rescue the kidnapped baby unicorns, which were being held in the basement of a brownstone.  She kept trying to tell the unicorn she wasn't a virgin, but instead, she was a down-on-her-luck, drunk, veteran.  "La-la-la!"  shouted the unicorn.  Not knowing is half the battle. It didn't require much investment.  The story was funny and short, the characters were sarcastic and piquant.  The ending was not unexpected, but it did wrap up the story satisfactorily. 

"Bougainvillea" was a really good read about an island population which was ruthless in its attempts to keep the community alive and keep the zombie hordes out.  The characters and setting are well developed and I thought, 'I would read a book of this.'  So, when the ending came I was disappointed not because the story was lacking, but because I wished there were more.

"A Thousand Flowers" by Margo Lanagan would have certainly been my favorite if I had not read the preface. I felt betrayed by one piece of information- which if I had not known would have made a beautiful surprise ending. I will say no more so as not to ruin it for you if you want to read it yourself.

"Children of the Revolution" - meh. I mean the writing was okay the generalizations may be more appealing to a younger audience- but the storyline was expected and the ending was a big disappointment to me.  I was reading the story to find the answer to a different question than the one the ending provided.

I'm halfway through the book.  I just finished "The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn."  I enjoyed this story.  The author puts an interesting twist on the unicorn myth. The world is one I would like to see explored in a novel form.  The story ends as if it were the beginning of another story.  UGH!  Come on Diana Peterfreund!  You left me hanging! 

And I can finally articulate why I've never enjoyed reading short stories.  The ones which aren't good or even mediocre have wasted my time.  Why did I  invest my time in this story with underdeveloped characters, a predictable storyline and an unsatisfying ending?  I feel disappointed.

The good ones draw me in quickly.  I feel involved and invested in this story.  I love the character development, the story is interesting, the setting is unique.  When I get the end I want more!  I feel disappointed because it is over.

The great ones have witty, full characters, a storyline which keeps me guessing, a setting that is beautifully described, and a twisty- unexpected, fulfilling and perfect in its completeness ending (which nobody has ruined by pushing out details in the preface.)

And for me- these stories are very difficult to find- I'm not sure it is worth wading through an anthology of short stories to discover the one which I find great.

Day 13

A conversation with my preschooler about black history month (before I knew it was a conversation about black history month)

Her: My teacher said I could be Rosie Barker.

Me: Who’s Rosie Barker?

Her: She was a woman who got in the wrong lane.

Me: She got in the wrong lane?  What does that mean?

Her: She was supposed to be in the black lane, but she got in the white lane.  Then the police arrested her.

Me: Do you mean Rosa Parks?

Her: That’s what I said.  My teacher said I could be her, and I got a cookie because I was paying attention.

Me: Oh- that’s good.

Her: Conner got to be the other one.

Me: What other one?

Her: The first one.

Me: I don’t know what you mean.

Her: He lived in the white house.

Me: You mean the president?  George Washington?

Her: No.  My friend Trinity was going to be him.  She got a cookie for paying attention too.  But she didn’t want to be him.  She wanted to me Michelle- because she’s a girl.

Me: Trinity was Michelle  . . . . Obama?

Her: Yes, and Conner was the other one, but he didn’t get a cookie.

Me: Conner was President Obama right?

Her: Yeah- that, but he’s a boy.

day 12 the perfect day

Today is the perfect day to stay in bed.  I got up this morning to take the girls to school.  I noticed the very winter weather of 33 degrees and raining.  There was a light film of ice on my car, and beautiful, crystal drop-cicles forming on the tree branches.  I considered a little exploratory shopping- but settled on going home and getting back in bed.  I slept for another 3 and a half hours and when I got up the winter rain was still pattering on the windows and roof.  The tree branches are still weighed down with a thousand little prisms, the temperature is still just above snow.

Today may be an excellent day to try out one of those curbside pickup services at the grocery store tool.  Truly, when one has no agenda- every day holds all the promise you could desire.