It has begun....
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Fear, Forks & Fiction – A Love Story
As a student I dreaded writing assignments. I never knew where to begin or end an essay. I couldn’t spell (phonetically or otherwise) and my handwriting was illegible until I was in my early twenties, consequently it rarely mattered if my writing was well organized as it was indecipherable.
At college, the Student Writing Center, equipped with first computers I would ever use, helped alleviate some of the mechanical issues, but that did little to change my apprehension about having to write or my understanding of the process. I loved to read, I understood words as entertainment, but I did not really trust them.
Non-fiction was something I viewed with skepticism. I considered textbooks out-dated histories limited to the viewpoint of the conqueror, and journalism slanted: misled by “the powers that be,” whoever they were. Perhaps it was a byproduct of growing-up during Watergate and the Cold War era, but I wasn’t very confident of those who claimed to know the facts, and was less so if they were "reporting them to the world."
I enjoyed fiction and I understood it as a vehicle for truisms, but considered it too controlled an environment for understanding real people or real life, and I was very interested in both at the time. (If that sounds like sour grapes it could well be. I’d love to write more fiction these days, even limited & cliché fiction!)
My first semester at Mary Baldwin College Mom sent me an article written by a family friend, Lorane Leavy. The Leavy's youngest son had recently died and the article was a telling of her experience and the events surrounding his death. Much of the content of her piece was already familiar to me, details shared between friends and family with heartbreaking accuracy, but I was undone by this piece, undone by Lorane’s voice throughout the article: Authentic, unblinking, and accessible.
It was my first encounter with creative non-fiction. Not that I knew to call it that. What I did know was that her narrative penetrated my natural defenses. She gracefully compelled me to follow her line of thought to its close and trusted me to draw my own conclusions. Her words connected us, not as friends, or neighbors, but as human beings.
I used that article all semester as the measure for everything I wrote. I began to search for a writing style of my own, but I had no reservations about imitating hers while I looked for it. After finals, my English professor, Dr. Askegaard, told me I wrote well and encouraged me to consider writing romance novels. I was horrified. I realized, a moment too late, that he meant it as compliment. There was a sudden flurry of back-peddling, quickly followed by wishes for a good holiday, and it was done, I had survived my first college–level writing class.
While romance novels were not what I aspired to, I realized Dr. Askegaard wasn’t so far off; my writing had improved. I had worked to make each sentence written for his class honest and evocative. The result was awkward phrasing, empty adverbs, and vivid descriptions of people as well as place. I was finding my own voice and with it a deeper understanding of how and why we work so hard to communicate with one another.
These days I struggle with too many words, even after years of word limits and deadlines. I consistently need an editor for everything from formatting issues to grammatical errors. I do what I can to avoid falling in love with my own words and I rely on what I learned reading Lorane’s article all those years ago: Write fearlessly. Trust your readers. Once on the page, your words belong to them, and it is time for you to move on.
This is just as well, by the time I have succeeded in getting an idea written down chances are another deadline is looming or my family has run out of clean forks.
It is safe to say that during the month of October I was addressing a serious silverware shortage in my household. I do hope to blog about Rosh Hashanah before the holiday rolls around again next year, but it is not likely to happen soon because NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month) officially began at midnight and I am participating. Thirty days from now I am hoping to have completed 50,000 words of fiction – romantic, limited, cliché, or worse- but 50,000 words none the less.
Time to buy more forks....
At college, the Student Writing Center, equipped with first computers I would ever use, helped alleviate some of the mechanical issues, but that did little to change my apprehension about having to write or my understanding of the process. I loved to read, I understood words as entertainment, but I did not really trust them.
Non-fiction was something I viewed with skepticism. I considered textbooks out-dated histories limited to the viewpoint of the conqueror, and journalism slanted: misled by “the powers that be,” whoever they were. Perhaps it was a byproduct of growing-up during Watergate and the Cold War era, but I wasn’t very confident of those who claimed to know the facts, and was less so if they were "reporting them to the world."
I enjoyed fiction and I understood it as a vehicle for truisms, but considered it too controlled an environment for understanding real people or real life, and I was very interested in both at the time. (If that sounds like sour grapes it could well be. I’d love to write more fiction these days, even limited & cliché fiction!)
My first semester at Mary Baldwin College Mom sent me an article written by a family friend, Lorane Leavy. The Leavy's youngest son had recently died and the article was a telling of her experience and the events surrounding his death. Much of the content of her piece was already familiar to me, details shared between friends and family with heartbreaking accuracy, but I was undone by this piece, undone by Lorane’s voice throughout the article: Authentic, unblinking, and accessible.
It was my first encounter with creative non-fiction. Not that I knew to call it that. What I did know was that her narrative penetrated my natural defenses. She gracefully compelled me to follow her line of thought to its close and trusted me to draw my own conclusions. Her words connected us, not as friends, or neighbors, but as human beings.
I used that article all semester as the measure for everything I wrote. I began to search for a writing style of my own, but I had no reservations about imitating hers while I looked for it. After finals, my English professor, Dr. Askegaard, told me I wrote well and encouraged me to consider writing romance novels. I was horrified. I realized, a moment too late, that he meant it as compliment. There was a sudden flurry of back-peddling, quickly followed by wishes for a good holiday, and it was done, I had survived my first college–level writing class.
While romance novels were not what I aspired to, I realized Dr. Askegaard wasn’t so far off; my writing had improved. I had worked to make each sentence written for his class honest and evocative. The result was awkward phrasing, empty adverbs, and vivid descriptions of people as well as place. I was finding my own voice and with it a deeper understanding of how and why we work so hard to communicate with one another.
These days I struggle with too many words, even after years of word limits and deadlines. I consistently need an editor for everything from formatting issues to grammatical errors. I do what I can to avoid falling in love with my own words and I rely on what I learned reading Lorane’s article all those years ago: Write fearlessly. Trust your readers. Once on the page, your words belong to them, and it is time for you to move on.
This is just as well, by the time I have succeeded in getting an idea written down chances are another deadline is looming or my family has run out of clean forks.
It is safe to say that during the month of October I was addressing a serious silverware shortage in my household. I do hope to blog about Rosh Hashanah before the holiday rolls around again next year, but it is not likely to happen soon because NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month) officially began at midnight and I am participating. Thirty days from now I am hoping to have completed 50,000 words of fiction – romantic, limited, cliché, or worse- but 50,000 words none the less.
Time to buy more forks....
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Impressive Feat -a senyru for Lizzy
Empty shoes longing
Smitten by her vibrant soul
Crave her lovely feet
Saturday, August 27, 2011
One of the Perks of being a Grown-up
Being independent is a valuable trait, particularly when you are transitioning from child to adult. However, the deeper into adulthood I travel the more frequently I discover that inter-dependence is the key to being both, an accomplished adult and part of a community. Whether the help we give is small or significant is not what matters.
How often did I stumble, struggle, or fall down because I did not know who to ask or, for that matter, what to ask?
I have made and continue to make plenty of mistakes that are mine to own. As a younger woman, the notion that I should be able to manage whatever life sent my way was the idea that I tripped over most frequently. I was embarrassed if I needed help or did not know how to manage some new task that would crop up, only to learn that it was some routine aspect of adult life.
I remember the first time a grown-up, unrelated to me, saw me at a loss for how to move forward and helped me navigate a few unexpected obstacles. Some of it was small stuff like figuring out how to switch over the utilities from the previous occupant's name to my own in my first apartment. Sometimes her advice - like how to be a good neighbor to Mrs. James, the octogenarian who lived across the hall, while limiting the lengthy and confusing conversations between us to only one or two a week, turned out to be valuable life lessons.
Perhaps the most important lesson I learned from her was to be open to offers of help. I still had a long way to go before I learned to ask for help (at least in a timely manner), but as a result of her easy manner and offers of help I have had dozens and dozens of other-like experiences since then. People who have offered advice, support, and friendship as I traveled the terrain of life as an adult.
Someone once did or will do for me much of what I do and hope to do for others. It is this easy sense of give and take that lets me know I am part of a community in which we all help each other both, in dealing with life's challenges and in maintaining a healthy balance between doing for ourselves and doing for others.
Being grown does have its perks.
How often did I stumble, struggle, or fall down because I did not know who to ask or, for that matter, what to ask?
I have made and continue to make plenty of mistakes that are mine to own. As a younger woman, the notion that I should be able to manage whatever life sent my way was the idea that I tripped over most frequently. I was embarrassed if I needed help or did not know how to manage some new task that would crop up, only to learn that it was some routine aspect of adult life.
I remember the first time a grown-up, unrelated to me, saw me at a loss for how to move forward and helped me navigate a few unexpected obstacles. Some of it was small stuff like figuring out how to switch over the utilities from the previous occupant's name to my own in my first apartment. Sometimes her advice - like how to be a good neighbor to Mrs. James, the octogenarian who lived across the hall, while limiting the lengthy and confusing conversations between us to only one or two a week, turned out to be valuable life lessons.
Perhaps the most important lesson I learned from her was to be open to offers of help. I still had a long way to go before I learned to ask for help (at least in a timely manner), but as a result of her easy manner and offers of help I have had dozens and dozens of other-like experiences since then. People who have offered advice, support, and friendship as I traveled the terrain of life as an adult.
Someone once did or will do for me much of what I do and hope to do for others. It is this easy sense of give and take that lets me know I am part of a community in which we all help each other both, in dealing with life's challenges and in maintaining a healthy balance between doing for ourselves and doing for others.
Being grown does have its perks.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
First Day of School
two girls off to school
buoyant girls, light, floating, glad
two girls in happy rain
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
It all happens so fast ... this life.
July 2009 was the first time we met you. Was it really only two years ago? It could have been last week we met your return flight from TN, except there are not enough days to then account for time at Teri & Nadav's, holidays, dinners, conversations over laundry, auditions – what’s it been six or seven roles/shows you have been in since we met? There was no shortage of late-night cramming sessions balanced by long talks about everything from hopes for the future to Warhammer back stories. I feel like there must be some sort glitch in the space time continuum!
Remember making holiday gifts for your family? Learning how to make homemade spaghetti sauce? Your first gaming session - it was Rachael’s game right? When did you finally overcome Miriam’s expertly executed “Little Sister of Insurmountable Annoyance” to become (and sustain)your big brother status with her? Yes, I know she is still annoying – that is a little sister’s job.
'Think for minute of the hours and hours you have kept me company while I worked on murals. Now - Blink - you are graduating, leaving for England, and meeting up with Ellen for lunch in London. Turn around twice more and you're moving into the dorms, you land a job on the Sun Star, and somehow survived Stage Craft (aka drafting HELL), all while trying to figure out if there was enough Mountain Dew on the planet to help you focus on homework at the end of the day!
Not all of it has been fun. You did your best to avoid learning how to be alone, ended up having to deal with that discomfort anyway, and discovered that while it can suck - being alone did not always equal being lonely. An experience that the residents on your hall will benefit from this fall, when their days seem too short or too dark, and they need someone to talk with.
There is too much to try and mention here. Each memory I include only gives way to another that feels equally significant. This life! It moves so fast! You have heard it before, but now that you have left your teen years behind and are a newly minted “20-Something” it is time to hear it again. Slow Down!
Breathe.
Let yourself take it all in.
Dance to your own drum.
Follow or lead, as you like, but do it at your pace.
Every life is filled with its share of bitter and sweet. Rushing ahead will not make what is bitter go faster any more than dragging your feet will make what is sweet last any longer. Being able to appreciate either as impermanent is how we cope with difficulties of life as well as remember to fully enjoy what is good. With this bit of advice out of the way, I have a gift for you on the auspicious occasion of your birth.
It is with complete certainty that I say to you now: Whatever – Whoever, lies ahead as you move through the days and years of your life, I promise you, will be there when you arrive. I know this with complete certainty, so slow down:
You are worth waiting for.
Happy Birthday Daniel, I hope this year is, in fact, everything you never knew you always wanted.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Teaching our Kids to Fail or Why We Don't Eat Our Young.
I know a lot of amazing young adults; they are kids’ really…but very cool kids. Like I know this kid who is
a Tae Kwon Do world medalist and another who at 16 years old launched and is successfully pursuing a career as a singer/songwriter, and another who at age 15 decided to UNSCHOOL - left the local high school (with parental approval), is legitimately pursuing academics that will ensure acceptance into a University and is spending this year traveling.
This doesn’t even scratch the surface. In our (small) town there are kids who are published writers and science geeks. Teens, who despite the fact that their bodies have not finished changing, are already changing our world. There are all the typical interesting kids you’d meet anywhere: athletes, smart kids, and an array of artists & makers who are actively expanding the dialogue on every possible topic you can imagine through their artwork or performances.
They are not all phenoms, but there is no shortage of extraordinary. It’s exciting to be around, it is fun, and it is a little terrifying.
Nerve-racking for those wondering if they can keep up the pace? How long will this be expected of them?
Pretty scary for their peers as well, classmates who are doing enough, but wonder if there is something wrong that they haven’t yet found their shooting star quality? And honestly, it seems pretty distressing for those who keep themselves out of the "crazy," but witness the self-imposed pressure their friends feel.
It is not hard to understand why some teens quickly learn to avoid the hazards of caring too much or trying too hard.
These fears are real and are an aspect of each of their lives – whether they are draped in their country's flag accepting medals or just trying to figure out if they can navigate their parents, friends, teachers, and the cafeteria on a given school day without someone freaking out.
They worry about bad grades, bad dates, getting fired, and breaking the rules, or worse: getting caught breaking the rules and on the whole, each new wave of teens I encounter seems increasingly more cautious than the last. Those who are bold in public arenas are often very guarded in more personal ones. The result is a strange kind of loneliness. They carry an uncertainty about how to create the foundations of friendship and that uncertainty seems out of place among, such otherwise, accomplished young adults.
When children are small we often believe we can protect them. Once they are teens we have typically discovered our job was much less about keeping them safe from harm and more about helping them identify danger, and heal successfully.
Parent as Shield doesn’t really work, kids get hurt. They break bones, are not chosen at the audition, and are excluded from birthday parties. Kids get hurt and it turns out that our task as parents is less about protecting them and more about teaching them, and ourselves, to stand back up. How to experience failure without it being our undoing. How do we teach our children to fail? I suspect it is by doing it ourselves.
I know! If parenthood was held to truth in advertising standards I suspect there would be many fewer of us today.
• sleep deprivation
• diapers
• terrible twos
• terrible teens
These we had all heard about.
However, if someone said: "As a mom all your frailest and most unattractive traits will regularly be on display. You will often feel frustrated, and worn down, and despite being larger and more experienced than the children in your care, you will find yourself unexpectedly vulnerable to their tyrannical demands." Add to this list modeling failure and truly it is a very good thing babies start off smelling good, but not edible.
So what are we to do? My answer is "Fall down six times, stand up seven." Dust yourself off. You will be disappointed, or sad, or angry, or all of these, for a while, and then you are going to be okay again. That's the message we need to share, with those becoming adults in our homes: How we manage the tension of the unknown in our own lives.
If we hope to discover what we are capable of we must not let the possibility of failing limit our choices. I am not suggesting recklessness; I am suggesting not inflating fear by exaggerating the consequences of failure. We live in a time full of possibility and the real challenge any of us face is being open to it.
Honestly, now that you are somewhere in the thick of your adulthood aren’t you grateful your life has not been limited to the choices your 18-year-old self would have made for your 40-year-old self? The same will be true for them. We need to help them be open to what they cannot yet imagine.
Let our young adults know that despite many falls and mistakes along the way we have survived this far and it is time to let them know that we are confident they will too - humans are hardwired to solve problems and learn from mistakes. Creating an expectation of trial and error as part of life can free our kids to find their own answers and provide us opportunities to learn clever new solutions.
a Tae Kwon Do world medalist and another who at 16 years old launched and is successfully pursuing a career as a singer/songwriter, and another who at age 15 decided to UNSCHOOL - left the local high school (with parental approval), is legitimately pursuing academics that will ensure acceptance into a University and is spending this year traveling.
This doesn’t even scratch the surface. In our (small) town there are kids who are published writers and science geeks. Teens, who despite the fact that their bodies have not finished changing, are already changing our world. There are all the typical interesting kids you’d meet anywhere: athletes, smart kids, and an array of artists & makers who are actively expanding the dialogue on every possible topic you can imagine through their artwork or performances.
They are not all phenoms, but there is no shortage of extraordinary. It’s exciting to be around, it is fun, and it is a little terrifying.
Nerve-racking for those wondering if they can keep up the pace? How long will this be expected of them?
Pretty scary for their peers as well, classmates who are doing enough, but wonder if there is something wrong that they haven’t yet found their shooting star quality? And honestly, it seems pretty distressing for those who keep themselves out of the "crazy," but witness the self-imposed pressure their friends feel.
It is not hard to understand why some teens quickly learn to avoid the hazards of caring too much or trying too hard.
These fears are real and are an aspect of each of their lives – whether they are draped in their country's flag accepting medals or just trying to figure out if they can navigate their parents, friends, teachers, and the cafeteria on a given school day without someone freaking out.
They worry about bad grades, bad dates, getting fired, and breaking the rules, or worse: getting caught breaking the rules and on the whole, each new wave of teens I encounter seems increasingly more cautious than the last. Those who are bold in public arenas are often very guarded in more personal ones. The result is a strange kind of loneliness. They carry an uncertainty about how to create the foundations of friendship and that uncertainty seems out of place among, such otherwise, accomplished young adults.
When children are small we often believe we can protect them. Once they are teens we have typically discovered our job was much less about keeping them safe from harm and more about helping them identify danger, and heal successfully.
Parent as Shield doesn’t really work, kids get hurt. They break bones, are not chosen at the audition, and are excluded from birthday parties. Kids get hurt and it turns out that our task as parents is less about protecting them and more about teaching them, and ourselves, to stand back up. How to experience failure without it being our undoing. How do we teach our children to fail? I suspect it is by doing it ourselves.
I know! If parenthood was held to truth in advertising standards I suspect there would be many fewer of us today.
• sleep deprivation
• diapers
• terrible twos
• terrible teens
These we had all heard about.
However, if someone said: "As a mom all your frailest and most unattractive traits will regularly be on display. You will often feel frustrated, and worn down, and despite being larger and more experienced than the children in your care, you will find yourself unexpectedly vulnerable to their tyrannical demands." Add to this list modeling failure and truly it is a very good thing babies start off smelling good, but not edible.
So what are we to do? My answer is "Fall down six times, stand up seven." Dust yourself off. You will be disappointed, or sad, or angry, or all of these, for a while, and then you are going to be okay again. That's the message we need to share, with those becoming adults in our homes: How we manage the tension of the unknown in our own lives.
If we hope to discover what we are capable of we must not let the possibility of failing limit our choices. I am not suggesting recklessness; I am suggesting not inflating fear by exaggerating the consequences of failure. We live in a time full of possibility and the real challenge any of us face is being open to it.
Honestly, now that you are somewhere in the thick of your adulthood aren’t you grateful your life has not been limited to the choices your 18-year-old self would have made for your 40-year-old self? The same will be true for them. We need to help them be open to what they cannot yet imagine.
Let our young adults know that despite many falls and mistakes along the way we have survived this far and it is time to let them know that we are confident they will too - humans are hardwired to solve problems and learn from mistakes. Creating an expectation of trial and error as part of life can free our kids to find their own answers and provide us opportunities to learn clever new solutions.
Bad grades, bad dates, getting fired, breaking the rules, and being impulsive are all parts of becoming capable adults. Failure is not something to fear, it is merely one of the tools for becoming an individual with the strength, energy, and sense of humor needed to enjoy this life and make this world a sweeter place by being in it.
I know. I am scared too. If I can hold on to this idea, firmly, with both hands, for say seven or eight more years, the young adults in my life might all survive long enough to become old adults. Truth is, I love their company, but I admit there are days when it is a good thing that if they smell good it is not in that baby back ribs kinda of way.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Recent Events Have Left Me at a Loss for Words
But not those at Punk Torah. (Please check out their blog)
Norway, Amy Winehouse and My Guinea Pig: Why G-d Really Sucks Sometimes
I am grateful that there were no local Guinea Pigs harmed or who met their end in the writing of this post. That said, it has still been a hard time to be an adult in this world lately, both locally and globally. I am making an effort to manage much of the crapfest without making the other individuals under my roof also wade about in it. My roof currently shelters a fistful of young women having a sweet summer and as summer ends too soon there is just no need, ya know?
So, I send my condolences to Mr. Bacon Sandwich, to Amy's family, to the many in Norway, and to those closer to home - I am holding you in my thoughts and in my heart. And to those who are being supportive of me, either through your easy sweetness or thoughtful efforts - thanks. I really appreciate the good you put into this world.
Norway, Amy Winehouse and My Guinea Pig: Why G-d Really Sucks Sometimes
I am grateful that there were no local Guinea Pigs harmed or who met their end in the writing of this post. That said, it has still been a hard time to be an adult in this world lately, both locally and globally. I am making an effort to manage much of the crapfest without making the other individuals under my roof also wade about in it. My roof currently shelters a fistful of young women having a sweet summer and as summer ends too soon there is just no need, ya know?
So, I send my condolences to Mr. Bacon Sandwich, to Amy's family, to the many in Norway, and to those closer to home - I am holding you in my thoughts and in my heart. And to those who are being supportive of me, either through your easy sweetness or thoughtful efforts - thanks. I really appreciate the good you put into this world.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
ArtNight: A Community
Currently, one of the more exciting aspect of my life is raising my daughters in the culturally and artistically rich Fairbanks, AK. No, that was not sarcasm. In this small community an unexpected number of professional and emerging artists gather routinely to create and share techniques in visual art, music, dance, theater arts, and creative writing.
While it is informal in its organization, ArtNight includes opportunities to try-out canvas painting, film-making, poetry, hip hop dance, and photography as well as a number of other creative pursuits during weekly gatherings. Last night alone there were half a dozen artists creating mixed media small works, another engaged in jewelry making, dance, costume design (which eveloved into an intial fitting), and story telling.
ArtNight was established in 2009 to provide open studio time, it has grown into a community. People come tired or inspired, to get lost in their own creative process, or to discover and dabble in the art of living, defined by ArtNighters as: Fall down six times, stand up seven.
Pictures are a small sampling. There are over 50 artisits and makers who regularly take part in ArtNight. Please contact me if you want more information about a specific piece or the work of a particular artist. More pictures can be seen on my facebook page.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
You live where?
Life at Tuesday:
Light in the summer, glowing with warmth in the winter, music, the quiet turning of pages, laughter, and conversation are the foundation of our home. I wear blue jeans, and sarongs, and I walk barefoot when it suits me, most of the summer it suits me.
In this life I am learning, not nearly fast enough to be ahead, but almost fast enough to keep up. I plant, I explore history, I spend time in thought, I paint, I read, I write: I dabble. Tuesday is an honest reflection of the lives it shelters. A place where function and form occasionally meet, but for the most part whimsy overlaps utility to create pockets of comfort, and now and again, art.
People come from all over to spend time here. I think because here is a place that offers enough. Frequently, we find there is enough conversation, enough peace, enough to eat, enough quiet, enough candor, and enough joy, to support us on our journeys. The door is open, both to leaving and returning.
Enough is that place between too little and too much. It is easy to fall short of what is needed. We can see that truth in every community despite the plenty that surrounds so many. A fear of scarcity, felt by those who have what they need as well as those who do not, creates a hunger that more cannot satisfy - such that life's real challenge is walking the line between too little and excess.
I am like you, there are days I worry, trying to manage the tension that comes with not knowing if there will be enough.
Enough time for me to raise my daughters as individuals and sisters? Enough time for me to be alone with my husband, and enough time for me to be alone with myself? Enough time to be home and enough time to explore? My daughters know the comfort of home, but will there be enough to ensure they develop the ability to trust and delight in places unfamiliar? Can I develop enough poise to navigate day-to-day challenges and leave room to experience the sacredness in each day? Will I recognize enough?
I don’t know? I am not sure that it matters.
For now, I walk through this life with you, creating, allowing for, and discovering enough. Enough to give, enough to ensure well-being, enough to help others, enough to celebrate, enough to make each of us whole.
Welcome to Tuesday, make yourself at home.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Camp pUnk bLosSom: Week One!
Our nieces, Ruby and Paige, landed on July 10th and every day since they arrived has been like a "Double Header." We kicked off their visit by hosting friends from Anchorage and Northern Virginia to a dinner of Moose and Salmon. We have made a visit to our local swimming pool and to our favorite library. We had a dozen or so over for a John Hughes-A-Thon - that transitioned into a 3AM Denny’s Dessert run. We have canoed a bit of the Chena and enjoyed a very artsy Art Night.
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David keeping the freezer full! |
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We fill the downtime with silly talk about everything from hairstyles, boiz and grrlz, what traits trigger the flirt factor, to the standard details regarding school, home, and life on planet Teen Grrl! At least 5 books have been read cover-to-cover this week. The AK summer sunlight means they have pulled off that last feat without flashlights under the bed covers!
We fill the downtime with silly talk about everything from hairstyles, boiz and grrlz, what traits trigger the flirt factor, to the standard details regarding school, home, and life on planet Teen Grrl! At least 5 books have been read cover-to-cover this week. The AK summer sunlight means they have pulled off that last feat without flashlights under the bed covers! The younger girls add to this their own side adventures: Playing in the maze and exploring at the botanical gardens, baking challah, yoga class with Rivka, and t-shirt art. ![]()
The foursome dressed in costume for the Premier of the final Harry Potter film, Ruby helped lead services at Or HaTzafon: she guided our community in chair yoga to help us all get in a Shabbat state-of-mind.
The next morning we all took part in celebrating Maia Eisenberg’s Bat Mitzvah which we followed with some serious lying about and indulged in half dozen or so episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer until sleep claimed us. Today, Miriam and Ruby are celebrating Ari's 11th year on this planet and all the girls have taken part in assorted rounds of the "10-Minute-Tidy," but on the whole have been such proactive housemates that it did not require too many "rounds" to sweeten up the house. ![]()
At last we have each slipped into comfy chairs, curled up with the occasional cute boy, a good book, and a snack within arm’s reach to quietly see this first week of “Camp pUnk bLosSom" come to a close. 94 days of summer continues....next week Dance Party Update!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Ode to Camp pUnk bLosSom
Pairs of adventurers, happy
Their feet on the ground again
Ready for familiar faces
Anticipate new experiences
Their coming is met with exclamations
Easy smiles and arms that wind them in comfort
Pairs of adventurers, happy
The clatter of lids
The easy movement of memory
Leaves warmed by sunshine, fish
While the table shudders pounded with winningsPairs of adventurers, happy
Touring, humbled by elusive air
Buoyed by water
Lifted on laughter
Music, magic, changepUnk bloSSoms
Unexpected dreams Pairs of adventurers, happy
Friday, July 8, 2011
Summer Races Ahead, June Gone, July Already in Full Swing!
Since resurrecting my blog to document the wickedly brief 94 days of summer here in AK I have been racing with the daylight to fit in both life and writing. In an attempt to shorten the distance between my entries and summer's break neck pace I submit to you an abridged version of our summer to date...
Garden Step 1: plant 300 seeds.
Moving Day: for our friend Patrick. Though we were sorry to have him move out it was exciting to help him plan and paint his new room. The plan included a custom designed and built loft (by the Eskridge/Crowson team). He now rests each night in a cozy round bed which hangs from his ceiling – his own personal cloud!
Clean-up Happens: This time at Ruby’s homestead
Celebrating Summer: old school – very old school! See Maypole...Summer Jobs 101 for the Modern Teen: Register with Alaska
Clucking Blossom 2011: Did not disappoint: Music, Art, Mosquitoes! The event had everything a Fairbanks kid needs to know that summer has arrived and all is right with the world.
Garden Step 2: Raised beds are how we roll!
Garden Step 3: Time to plant this crop!
Nasturtiums, Carrots: orange, purple, red and white,Sugar Snap Peas, Spinach, Lettuce,Tomatoes, Radishes, Basil, 3 kinds of Mint, Parsley, Beets, Potatoes, Dahlia's, Delphiniums, Sweet Peas, Hostas, Columbine, Lily of the Valley, Pumpkins,Wild Iris, and Sunflowers
Garden Step 4: Keep up with the watering until monsoon season...
More Music, More Friends: Amanda was in town, as was BNL!
Student Rabbi Arrives: meet, greet, cocktails! Our kind of Rabbi!
Garden Extension: Mini-salad garden for the Rabbi, courtesy of Miriam
Bar Mitzvah #1: Daniel Wolfe, Wow! Daniel it was a perfect day.
Bar Mitzvah #1: Daniel Wolfe, Wow! Daniel it was a perfect day.
Auntie Deb: Makes her annual summer journey north.
Fairbanks Shakespeare Theatre Groundling’s and Fledglings Summer Production 2011: Mid-Summer's Night Dream. Thalia as Helena, Miriam as Peas-blossom, Emma as Bottom, Kelsey performed Lysander when Tyler landed in the hospital! Tyler is well now and Kelsey is our HERO! I am hopeful that pictures will soon surface.
Harvesting Firewood: Some chores never really end.
Time to fill the Freezer: David leaves for Chitna, 3 days later he returns with 16 Red and 1 King! Summer = good eating!
Bar Mitzvah # 2: Sam Greenberg -
Destined to be our first Pro-Baseball Rabbi!
Bar Mitzvah # 2: Sam Greenberg -
Destined to be our first Pro-Baseball Rabbi!
Cast Party: Those Monahan’s throw a great shindig!
Rain: Enough to keep the garden happy, refillLake Eskridge
Rain: Enough to keep the garden happy, refill
Thalia saves the Day: This happens pretty routinely, but this time she is doing her part down at Black Rapids Lodge. Last summer she lent a hand when Annie and Michael fond themselves short staffed with guests confirming and arriving at the end of their season. This year they knew who to call when they needed a reliable Jill-Of-All-Trades. She will be back by next Tuesday but is not opposed to making another trip down their way later in the summer too.
First Ripe Blueberry: found in bushes behind the house July 7, 2011
Tomorrow: is July 9, 2011. If you know who is holding the universal remote please ask them to stop fast forwarding! A momentary pause would even be appreciated. Regardless watch your inbox as I attempt to keep pace with the remaining days of summer....
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