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21 August 2011

Charlotte A. Cavatica

John brought this black widow spider into my garage.




13 August 2011

"Sing to Me Oh Muse"

Evenings I sit on my deck and watch the August thunderstorms roll down the river. The light spectacle and the symphony of wind howling, boats racing to the dock, thunder roaring, and fish flipping, my wind chimes harmonizing, cars motoring across the bridge, and the silence of the birds flight, all entrance me. These signals mean something very familiar, something as familiar as the crickets chorus, peak August and back to school. Thus begins my compulsive ritual for reentering the real world.

For weeks, I’ve watched the status updates of teachers preparing to start a new year. The study, the structure, the devotion impressed me but did not inspire me. My nerves start catching mini waves just under my skin, and I wonder, do I know what I need to know to start this year? I haven’t really read all the new books I intended, but I did read Usain Bolt’s autobiography at the library last week.


Fortunately, I had the foresight a few days ago to finalize the Abbey and Jake preparations. I shopped online, ordering rain boots and tennis shoes. I traveled to the uniform shop and made a trip to Staples. A tactical strike, I’ll be about the business of planning English lessons in no time.


With a major task accomplished, I rested my mind some, thinking of nothing deliberately and everything accidentally.


After sufficient decompression, I planned a few days rest, nothing on my schedule, just me and my children. And they have their own special end of summer rituals, usually involving the sentence, “she looked at me.” Followed by, “he looked at me first.”


Only days now until I have to show up to work; days filled with meetings and team building activities. The hour of opportunity has passed and Zeus’s daughters elude me.


My vision for cleanliness and organization has arrived, so I purge all half empty bags of perishables, sanitize the refrigerator and organize every cabinet, shelf and drawer. Who could think clearly with half a foil wrapped block of cream cheese in the refrigerator?


Once order is in the house, I detox. A total mind and body cleanse, including my gratitude prayer and meditation for creativity, Epsom salt baths, and green tea.


I move easily into the next phase: closet organization. It will help me decide what to wear when I show up unprepared for work. I color code all my shirts, pants, and dresses, mostly primary colors, blacks, browns and grays. The unlikely print gets its own section. I shop online for khaki pants, and now I too am almost ready.


I have books to read, and news, and blogs, and magazines (September’s Vanity Fair is now available on my iPad.) Not to mention, I should be researching videos and websites for information to incorporate into those lessons I haven’t planned. I take copious notes and make lists in mini notepads. Occasionally, I get sidetracked and start planning my fall break trip.

And then I must write about the experience as though it’s profound.


For me to work all day like this would not be fair to my children, so I also schedule some bike riding, surfing and swimming each day.


There is also the business of eating every day, which means carefully studying recipes and making trips to the Farmer’s Market and Whole Foods.


After I make dinner, Peas and Pasta, I’ll have to check Jake’s summer reading and math. Then the full moon tonight, so I’ll need to kayak. It appears as though Urania has arrived. By then it will be time to decompress again. I think Calliope might show up tomorrow.


12 August 2011

Selflessness Poetry

Sincere and lovely poetry of the self, the loss of self, oneness and otherness, and essence of the infinite. Every phrase, every mannerism, every thought familiar, distant, and real.

Watch the Ted Video of Thandie Newton: Embracing otherness, embracing myself.