Becoming UnStuck

I have been stuck.  I have had many projects in mind, none of which I've gotten close to starting.  The one thing I managed to do turns out to be much less useful than I'd hoped.  My closet is a disaster area, from the floor to the bulletin board whose sticky tape became unstuck sooner than I did.  

I managed to clean out most of my car and I did donate the books and magazines I couldn't resell.  I"m not sure how much credit I should take for that.

A like minded Pilates instructor and I bemoaned the sorry state of affairs.  I just keep thinking of how happy we could be.... imagine Pete as Secretary of State..... We shook our heads and then shook the bad thoughts away but that was a nuance I had not explored and so it lived in my head for a while.

A friend's daughter wondered if she and her girlfriend should get married.... they are in the military.... in Texas.  That conversation was a real life counterpart to the internet fact that vasectomies are up 1,200% since the election.

Then I went to an award's ceremony and ran into a friend, a wonderful woman who had collected two other random, wonderful women, and by the end of the evening (and it really was the end; they were turning off the heat lamps) we four had a reservation for breakfast after Thanksgiving.  

Have you heard about the four year cruise ship for Americans who want to leave during the next administration?  No internet. $250,000 (which isn't that bad for four years of room, board, entertainment, travel, and the company of like minded people).  

I began to consider this option with more than a little seriousness.  Then I stopped and mentally slapped myself.  It's okay to be sad, but I'm done wallowing.  That would be letting him win twice.  I'm done being disappointed in the Democratic Party; they are playing by the rules while their opponents have rewritten the Codex.  

I spent some time imagining a Bernie/AOC ticket and that got me thinking of all the disappointments and all the times we've pulled ourselves up and out..... and then Matt Gaetz decided to sit down and shut up and leave the rest of us alone and for a brief moment I was thrilled that 5 Republicans had suddenly developed a spine.  

Good news on the political front was a shock.  I felt less alone.  It was a karmic shift... perhaps a reason to hope that more might be on the way.... and for a moment I wasn't quite as afraid.... because I had come to realize that I was more afraid than sad or mad or confused and afraid is not something that's regularly in my life.

Feeling that cloud lift after leaving the Prince gardeners' hugs filled some of the empty spaces in my soul.  I felt unstuck.

I'm going to rehang the bulletin board, straighten up my closet, and generally get my shit together.  It is what it is.  It will be what it will be.  As my friend Rocky told her children, all you can really control is your attitude.  

I'm waiting to see what the future looks like.  My attitude is improving. 

Not An Excuse, Perhaps An Explanation

After some reflection and conversation with colleagues at school, I've come to a realization.  Like many of the things I think, it may not be true.  But like many of the things I think, if it's not a fact, it should be.

Tuesday's post described the mayhem caused by unruly scholars in the garden.  As I replied to Laura, they are good kids who were feeling overwhelmed.  

The Assistant Principal agreed that the kids were in a state.  The looks on the teachers' faces agreed; harried is too mild a description for what their eyes conveyed.  Outburst are not unusual; this was different.   

It kept me wondering all afternoon.

Then, scrolling through what the Google algorithm sent my way, I saw the Dictator To Be's True! in response to his use of military force to remove the undocumented, starting on Day 1.  

And it seemed I might have stumbled upon a reason.

It was Monday.  They were back after a weekend with their grown ups.  Many of those grown ups were suddenly and realistically terrified.  

Many of these children lived with political and military interference in their every day lives.  Some are wearing their (donated) first new pair of shoes.  The Afghan twins speak five different languages, one for each country that harbored them for a while.  (Is it any wonder they are holding hands whenever I see them?) Functional English is unavailable to others, with whom gestures are as important as the words I'm saying. Most of them are hyper-attuned to the emotional tenor of their surroundings (cf the reaction to the kerfuffle).  

Prince Mustangs don't make excuses, they find a way.  That's their motto, and they take it seriously.  But there's no fixing who's in charge for the next four years.

All of them have been seen to laugh.  There was not a laughing vibe on Monday. It hurts my heart to think about the atmosphere in their world last weekend.   

The Voice We Need Now

Watch this.

Jon Stewart is the voice I needed to hear. I think you might, too.

Terrorists in the Garden

I had to banish two of them.   Then I had to banish two more.  One insisted that he'd done nothing wrong but I was there at the time and my eyes don't deceive me.  

At one point I had to raise my voice.  The Cuters will attest to the fact that this is a monumental occurrence, one not taken lightly by those on the receiving end.  I've never done that at Prince.  Not until today.

GARDENERS!  PAY ATTENTION! 

A hush fell over my space as I pointed out the yellow part of the garden bed, the part covered with mulch, the part where those very miscreants planted seeds in toilet paper tubes just last week.  I mentioned that it looked very different from the rest of the black, un-mulched part of the garden bed.  We all agreed that we DO NOT dig in the yellow part and we DO DIG in the black part.  

It should be noted that this is not new information.  But they are little and they need reminding.

Approximately 11 seconds later the terrorists were at it again - flinging soil at one another and standing on the yellow mulched seeds to dig more conveniently.

The whistle blew.  They dropped what they were doing and raced to line up.  I held my head in my hands.

I appointed a take charge 1st grade Garden Leader to monitor the situation when first and third came out together. After setting up a watering plan for the Mandarin Orange tree,  I turned to be sure she was okay.  Neither she nor the garden were okay.

There was tromping and stomping and flinging and she sat on the storage bench, her chin on her fists.  I calmed things down with a few well placed words and frowns, and turned to my little helper.  It was hard, wasn't it?  She nodded slowly.  They were monsters.

The next whistle brought the competent, diligent, eager, fourth grade girls, and we set to work planting the starts I got for free from the Tucson Village Farm a few weeks ago.  Cauliflower and broccoli and Asian greens joined the 2 tomato plants and the 3 mustard greens in the veggie bed.  We left holes for the olla balls.  They watered gently with the hose nozzle on shower.  

There was a kerfuffle outside the garden wall which was startling and a little bit scary.  A giant group hug was called for.  It lasted for a nice, long time.

I will go back tomorrow, hopeful that things will have simmered down.

I Spent The Day With Denzel

It was Walter Mosley's Easy Rawlins who was in my hands all day, but since Denzel has been Easy incarnate since Devil in the Blue Dress it was quite simple for his to be the voice in my head.

It's a lovely voice.

As always, the cast of characters around Easy continues to grow.  Old favorites drop in for a page or two.  The narrative gets ahead of itself at the start of every chapter, because just like in life you never really know what's going to happen next.

Halfway through the book I turned to TBG.  If you had been a black man in LA in the 1950's you'd have killed someone or been killed yourself.  I can't imagine you containing your rage.

That Mosley's characters thrive without exploding is the continuous miracle of his stories.  

There are vignettes of wonderfulness, of kindness, of joy.  There are betrayals and there is trust.  It is beautifully written.

And you get to spend the day with Denzel Washington whispering in your ear.  There are worse ways to spend a Sunday.

A Deep Breath

There's been a lurking medical concern in the family for the last 18 months or so.  

Today we were able to take a deep breath.

The news is not perfect and it's not terrible.

Best of all, it's come back and see me in 6 months .... and that means no needles for 6 months.    

Those are two very good things.

I'm going to take tonight off and relax into the moment.  

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Absurdity

Are you F'ing kidding me?  NO! 

I forget which elected official on Capitol Hill responded that way when asked if I forget which of The Dictator to Be's Cabinet nominees were qualified for the post.

It makes perfect sense to me.  

With a felon in the White House, why is it surprising that his chief law enforcement officer is involved in a number of ethics scandals?  

When the guy running the show thinks soldiers are suckers,  a defense secretary who worries that America’s white sons and daughters are walking away (from serving in the military) and who can blame them seems totally on brand.

Private prison stocks have risen 70% since the election, reinforced by the fact that Tom Homan seems destined to be the new Border Czar.  (Was there an old Border Czar?)

Elon Musk wants to work for the government he wants to down-size by a third. (Isn't there some kind of conflict of interest here since the government funds almost all of Space X?)

Melania refused Jill's invitation to visit the White House. (Rude.)

I have not watched MSNBC or the nightly news nor read the front page of the local paper or the news websites nor listened to anything but fluff on NPR and yet all of that filtered through.

It is going to take great fortitude to get through these next four years.

The Only Way Forward Is Through

A 4th grade girl was the accidental recipient of a 4th grade boy's errant soccer kick.  She wept.  We hugged.

The 2nd grade visitors to the garden received plastic pots or Solo cups they filled with soil and seeds.  Plants are not fish; water drip-drip-drip not VROOOM was repeated over and over, with the added admonition not to water until they got home.  Still, there were several pairs of wet pants and tear stained faces.  They wept.  We hugged.

All my pinwheels have disappeared, leaving only the plastic sticks behind.  I tried to pout and I searched for sympathy, but apparently no one was as upset as I.  I did not weep.  There were certainly no hugs.

I remembered to bring The Yellow Bus for the kindergartener who asked me to read it again.  Before we were past the first episode he was called away for special instruction of some kind or other. No, she could not wait six pages of time, she's on a tight schedule. Everyone in the room was sad.  The scholars promised to tell him that I'd be back soon so that he could hear the story, too, before it is too late.  We saved him a sticker, too. 

And that's where the sweet spot is, for me.  More than hugs, although that full twenty second hug with a teary student did wonders for both of us.  More than consolation, although I fully subscribe to the misery loves miserable company school of thought.  

We sat with it.  We felt it.  We acknowledged it.  We took what action we could to ameliorate the current situation.  We planned for the future.  And then we went on with our lives.

I'm planning to keep that in mind.

Continuing to Cope

Sunshine.  Sixty degrees outside, warming up to the 70's.  TBG made me breakfast.  I completed the Wordle in 3, Strands without hints, and am once again approaching Genius in Spelling Bee.

I'm trying to do things that make me smile, so I'm ignoring the fact that the striking NYTimes Tech Guild employees want me to take a break and support them.  I'm not sure how my not doing the puzzles will affect the NYT's bottom line and I am certain how it will affect my emotional bottom line.  To help them, though, I'm publicizing the fact of the strike here, because I bet you didn't know about it either.

Not watching, reading, or listening to the news does have its downsides.  On the other hand, everyone seems to be angry with the news and the way it's reported and I'm trying to avoid negative triggers.  I'm finding that this leaves me with a great deal of free time.

I am no longer receiving dozens of daily emails from Nancy and Gabby and Ruben and Kamala and Kirsten and a host of others asking for dollars.  That I am still being asked to contribute to the Count the Vote effort here in Arizona, replete with scary intimations that Ruben and Kirsten might not win (even though their races have been called) infuriates me.  

I've labeled them all as spam.  They will not intrude on my exploration of joy.

I did more laundry, worked on my olla balls, replanted the cacti and succulents in the front courtyard, and left the heavy lifting for the yard guys coming on Wednesday.  Carrying large ceramic pots is not my idea of a good time, and good times are what I'm trying to engineer for myself.

I took a 30 minute power walk up and down my steep street.  Downhill, I let my emotions flow.  Amazon Music took my liked songs and somehow managed to sense when I needed energy and when I needed comfort

 

I had many interesting thoughts on my walk uphill, none of which I remember but each of which amused me greatly.  Downhill I tried to practice mindfulness as the tears came.  Moving was the right decision.

Veterans Day

I'll put out the flag as soon as I wake up.  I'll say THANK YOU to someone who served... or to someone who is wearing the uniform right now.  

And, perhaps, observe a moment of silence at 11am,  when the shooting stopped forever......... 100 years ago...... the first time.

I'll take Amster, my favorite veteran, out for our annual Veterans Day lunch, the only lunch all year where she allows me to pay the check.

I'll think about all those serving who will soon have the Orange Menace as their Commander in Chief.  

I'll be grateful all day, because I am safe and secure and that feeling is defended by the mightiest military force the world has ever seen..... at least that's how I feel today.