Why I love my job..

To Carry a Djembe..

Awkward from any angle...

Wide load coming through!

Tiny Tug, Long Island Sound

Love you a Latke.

Potato Vegetable Latkes with... farmers' market goods, eggs from somebody's backyard, and last year's last jar of homemade applesauce. Delish.

Rainy Tuesday

Tuesday mornings are lovely this summer. I am scheduled to teach from 8:30-10:30 in the morning just a few blocks away. Since it's just a few blocks away, I get to sleep in an extra half hour. Then I stop at the farmers' market on the way home to pick up our weekly CSA. I've been a frequent shopper at the flower guys' tent as well.

This morning was the first rainy Tuesday of the summer. It was the best kind of rain--gentle and no wind--which means you can leave the windows open to listen without getting wet. I woke up a little earlier than scheduled, so I sat in our sunroom with my toast and coffee, windows open, and listened to the soothing sound of steady, gentle rain. What a treat. It reminded me of the gentle rain we had every afternoon in Scotland on our visit. Peaceful. Restorative.

Perfect way to ease into the day.

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers...

Enchanting summer night. Fireflies making the night air sparkle and night-blooming flowers waving in the gentle evening breeze.

Caitlyn: Did you guys know that this plant's flowers only open at night? Isn't it fun to think about flowers and bugs having little love affairs?

Lisa: I feel like if the flowers could talk, the mother flower would be saying, "all right girls, time to let your hair down.."

anyone lived in a pretty how town

by e.e. cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Plastic Free Life

A coworker of mine, Jeanne Haegele, will be featured on the CNN special Toxic America this Thursday, June 3^rd at 8 p.m. Eastern. Jeanne has been working for the past 2.5 years to become as plastic-free as possible. She blogs about her experiences at http://lifelessplastic.blogspot.com. Her story will be included in the CNN special to demonstrate that people can make simple, everyday changes to reduce their reliance on plastics and the potentially hazardous chemicals they may contain.

All in a Day's Work

 

The Peace of the Wild Things

The Peace of the Wild Things by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

All because of the dress..

Dialogue with a student.

Miss Caitlyn: Carla, what a lovely dress you're wearing today!

Carla: I hate it. My mom MADE me wear it. And I'm probably getting a D or a C in math.

Miss Caitlyn: Uhh.. what?

Carla: I hate this dress so much that I can't concentrate in math and I'm probably failing!

The Story of Stuff

I saw this about a year ago, but I needed a refresher..

How long?

How long can one stand in the basement with a cantankerous landlord, staring at a misbehaving washing machine, without exchanging a single word?

Pretty long, it turns out. Pretty long.

To Claim A Wife

Take a look at the synopsis for this romance novel..

http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/f/susan-fox/to-claim-wife.htm

Too wild to wed...

March of the Goblins

When I am teaching I tend to fully embrace what I'll call "kid-mode." I laugh a lot with my students, but the funny and poignant things they say don't always stick with me. Today, for whatever reason, it did. Sophia is 7 years old and is a very practical and clever little girl. The new song we worked on this afternoon was called "March of the Goblins." I played it and sang it to her so she could hear the tune, and the words went something like this:

Yo-ho! Yo-yo-ho! Marching up the mountains thunder! Gold! Gold! We like gold! And we'll guard our plunder!

At the end of the song, Sophia said, "Uh, Miss Caitlyn, I don't really get that."

"Get what?" I asked.

"The words."

I explained that they were goblins searching for gold, defined plunder, etc, and she said, "But why do they like gold so much? All it is is a bit of shine."

"Yes, but they're goblins," I replied. "Wouldn't you like to search for gold if you were a goblin?"

"No. I would like to read. And sing."

(pause pause pause pause......................... a glance and a smirk up at me)

"...and play the piano."

I laughed. Did I mention she's also very diplomatic? Maybe she'll be a politician someday!

Auld Lang Syne

I wasn't going to go into detail about my pathetic situation, but since I alluded to it and people are asking, I might as well get it over with.

New Year's Eve sucked. Everyone was either out of town or already had plans with their families or significant others, so I spent the evening alone on the couch with episodes of a PBS Special and a cup of coffee. I took a hot bubble bath and tried to convince myself that really this was what I wanted anyway, but it didn't work. It just sucked. I threw in the towel at 11:50 and got into bed. When the fireworks started to go off a few minutes later, I sang Auld Lang Syne to myself, from my bed, in the dark, alone. I felt like Bridget Jones in the opening scene where she tearfully lip-sings All By Myself over a glass of wine.

So I guess 2010 is going to come on in and make itself at home. I'm hoping that after the rocky start to our relationship we get used to each other.

Happy New Year.

Car Maintenance

Car maintenance is one of those attention-to-detail aspects of my life that I really could do without. While for the most part I am self-sufficient as an independent woman, there are some things I wish I could delegate to a teammate, and car maintenance is near the top of the list. I realize it is important and I should know things, but really it just doesn't stick. I try to pay attention when someone explains or shows me something, but, entirely against my will, my eyes glaze over and I just cannot make myself care.

On Saturday this weekend Mom, Dad and I pulled out our cross-country skis for this season's virgin run through the forest preserve. My down snow vest was in my trunk in case of emergencies, so after brushing all the snow off I unlocked the trunk. However, despite all of my pulling, prying, grunting, and moaning, I could not get the trunk open. It was frozen shut! I called Dad to help me, but he couldn't get it open either. I resigned myself to other snow clothes and went on my way. Skiing was beautiful, by the way.

Sunday as I was warming up the car to drive back to Chicago, Dad threw a shovel-full of snow on my windshield as a parting gift. I tried to clear the snow using my windshield wipers, and realized then that I needed new ones. Streaks would be a generous term for how my wipers cleared (or rather, didn't clear) the windshield. The driver's side had one streak just at eye level, and the passenger's side didn't clear at all. Since it was clear that day, I sighed, waved goodbye and started on my journey. All was well until I got on the highway. My vision grew more and more obscured as one after another cars all around me threw up dirt and splatter from the road. My wipers were worthless.

The situation became urgent, and I decided I needed to purchase some new wipers STAT. I exited, pulled in to Target, and circled the lot several times looking for a space. Finally found one, bee-lined into the auto section, proudly looked up my make/model, grabbed the correct wipers and got in line. There were only 2 people in front of me, but the checker was so slow that I waited for 20 minutes listening to the deadbeats behind me pontificate about child support. Finally to the front of the line, one of the deadbeats started exclaiming about my wiper and how much it cost, but upon further inspection said, "oh, but it's only one.." WHAT??

I got out of line, went back, got the other stupid wiper, got back in line, waited, checked out, returned to my car and started trying to install a new one. Cars desperate for my parking space waited with their blinkers on, but I was going nowhere fast. I couldn't figure out the wiper installation and, feeling peer pressure, finally decided I would just make it home and figure it out later. Back in the car it started to snow, but I could see enough. Just as I came around the corner of my street, relieved to have finally made it home, my trunk, finally thawed out, popped open.

If anyone would like to volunteer for the job of Caitlyn's car care-taker, I would be much obliged. If not, sorry Dad, you're stuck with the job.

Brussels Sprouts

I am wondering how these guys got such a bad reputation. Last night Mom dropped off almost an entire share of autumn produce. It was extra from her share that she was trying to get rid of! We now have a fridge full of spinach, carrots, red onion, turnips, rutabaga, kohlrabi, celeriac, cabbage, 4 different kinds of squash, and a stalk of brussels sprouts. Well actually, minus the brussels sprouts--I cooked them last night.

This was my first time cooking brussels sprouts, and I must say it was kind of fun popping them off their stalk. I trimmed off the long ends and peeled back any wilted leaves and found a recipe to carmelize them with red onion and red wine vinegar. Toasted pistachios garnished the finished dish. They were delicious!

I immediately started wondering about their reputation and decided to experiment by posting my cooking accomplishment on facebook. Within 12 hours, at least 8 people have responded with the way they most enjoy their brussels sprouts-- sauteed with golden raisins and hazelnuts, with bacon, carmelized with pistachios AND chopped dried apricot, chopped fine with pasta. These are not 8 of my notoriously "foodie" friends, either. They are just a random sample of my connections.

And so I'm happy to report that there is a place in our hearts (and stomachs) for brussels sprouts after all. And lucky us, because according to Wikipedia, "they contain good amounts of vitamin A, vitamin C, folic acid and dietary fibre. Moreover, they are believed to protect against colon cancer, due to their containing sinigrin."

Bring 'em on!

Bad Dog Tavern

As situation would have it, I haven't been meeting a lot of available men lately. Having realized that this may be partially because I don't often break out of my comfortable social circle--one where I know them, they know me, and most are, in fact, women--, I accepted an invitation tonight to go to a neighborhood bar to celebrate a friend-of-a-friend's birthday. The friend-of-a-friend is a man and the bar is in my neighborhood, so it seemed promising.

Upon joining with the group, however, I looked around and overwhelmingly felt like a BABY. I have no problem socializing with adults, and I do realize that I am slowly becoming an adult myself, but all of these people seemed to be in their mid-thirties. Not old, mind you, but still 10 years older than me. Just not what I was expecting.

Great, I thought, as I settled in with my pumpkin ale. Just then a handsome man walked into the bar and headed for our table. Since the only seats available were directly across from us, he made his way over to us. He had piercing blue eyes, wore a ball cap, and appeared to be closer to my age--30 max! BINGO!

He sat down and we struck up conversation. As soon as names were exchanged he mentioned his wife and new baby. And another one bites the dust.

So here I am, another Saturday night nearly gone, alone in my apartment, reflecting on another evening spent in the company of charming, but ineligible men.

Is anyone interested in going to Spain? Perhaps tomorrow?

And so it begins..

Sometime over the weekend the page was turned. Gone are the cheerful sundresses, bright colors, and airy sandals. Gone is the lightness of spirit and genial air of conviviality among my fellow Chicagoans.

The wind howled last night and the virgin radiators hissed their warm greeting while we slept beneath our comforters, windows closed.

As I wade through the commuter stream this morning, we are clothed now head to toe -- somber grays, blacks, browns. Neutral, while the chilled wind whips our hair about. Do our expressions match our attire? There is an excitment, an anticipation of the splendour of fall, but it competes for space with the dread of quickly approaching winter.

With the liveliness and oppressive cheerfulness of summer behind us, we loosen the chains of our darker, melancholy and reflective selves. Solemn contemplation is now our sport as we enter the season of waiting.