Oleta River Recreation Area

This was our classroom today. Not bad, huh?









It's taken me a long time to appreciate the beauty that is here. I think I'm getting there, though.

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Recap of a Week

I spent last weekend sick with the flu- at least, on Sunday. On Saturday, I was nursing either a cold or allergies (I'm not sure which, though I suspect I have an allergy or two that has yet to be identified). Sunday morning began with the sound of a muffled gunshot. Early in the morning, as I was headed to the bathroom, the sound drifted through my bedroom window. This is the sort of sound that is sometimes difficult to place, as a part of the brain doesn't want to acknowledge such a violent noise. I wasn't sure that it was actually the sound of gunfire until my husband told me later that our nearby neighbor had chosen to end his life that morning. At that point, I found the idea that I'd been a auditory witness to someone's suicide very disturbing.

By Tuesday I was feeling fairly healthy, but I decided to skip the gym for the week. Better to completely heal than to suffer a relapse. This is good for me- normally I make the wrong choice and push myself to my own detriment.

Saturday day was a happy day- a kids' party with my daughter at which I ran into a friend I hadn't visited with in a long time. On Fruday night we'd gone to the funeral- a predictably sad affair, but one that provided closure of some sort for me and hopefully for some of the many friends and family in attendance.

Saturday night was wonderful, hanging out with other witchy women! I had the opportunity to participate in the monthly full moon group and made a decision to join the Sisterhood and hopefully to embark on a very special spiritual journey.

Tomorrow, life returns to normal with an early morning at the gym. I hope everyone has a wonderful week!








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Fun with Salt Dough

Today's history lesson involved learning about cuneiform in ancient Sumeria. After reading from our lesson book, we made salt dough and pressed in the letter symbols. It took a little practice to make the letters without ripping the dough (of course, I located a recipe for making clay after we'd already begun with the dough). It was fun, though. After a day of numbers and letters Wee Girl needed to do something fun and hands on.





























Now, we'll pop it into the oven to bake, and possibly paint the tablet to appear more clay-like.

While the baking is taking place, I think I'll snarfle down a mug of coffee. It's about that time.

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Ode to an Old Friend

This morning I was thinking about old friends; not the friends I enjoyed hanging out with in High School (many of whom I still talk with today thanks to social utilities such as Facebook- I love you, Mark Zuckerberg!), but the friends with whom I spent time in the more innocent years. I think the memories of these friends are extra special, because they represent a time when most of us didn't know too much about the pitfalls and evils of the world. They're memories about riding bicycles around the neighborhood, romping about in the park, swinging from the bars of the jungle gym, playing make-believe. In those days, the juice of crushed blackberries in a plastic tea cup tasted like the most special of teas, our parents lived forever and knew everything there was to know about life and there wasn't much wrong with the world. I carry an extra special fondness for these times, because once I turned eleven years old cruel reality crept into the picture, and a tiny bit of the innocence I'd once had was lost through the then tumultuous relationship my parents were engaged in, and their eventual divorce. My young childhood friends were left behind in the aftermath of that event when we moved to a new town, and life began a new chapter.

Before this time, however, before the madness of life snatched away some of my young naivete`, there was Catherine. Catherine was my friend in first grade. Because I was so young, I don't remember too much about her, but I do remember her as a sweet, kind child with long dark hair and laughing eyes. We spoke the banter of six year old kids, played on the playground in the schoolyard, shared childhood secrets. Somewhere in my home, I still have a gift she gave me: a tiny plastic cat which I treasured as a child and tucked away for safe keeping as I grew older. Catherine never grew past the years of naivete`. At some point during either the first or second grade, she was diagnosed with leukemia. The sweet little girl with long dark hair began coming to school with a bandanna tied around her head, her countenance a bit more reserved. I began to see her less and less as the illness worsened; our times of play had ended by then presumably, because the chemotherapy she was being given in an attempt to save or prolong her life made her tired and more vulnerable to other illnesses. I didn't understand what was happening to her, only that she wasn't around to play with any longer, and that I missed her. Sometimes her mother would come to school. I remember seeing her one day and telling her that I hoped Catherine would feel better soon. She gazed at me with a sad smile and the most sorrowful eyes I'd ever seen. I think I understood then that something terrible was happening, though my mind couldn't yet grasp exactly what it was. I vaguely remember someone, at some point, telling me that Catherine had passed away, feeling the cold loss that accompanies one's first realization of death as a point of being cut off from someone we care about. I think that it was around this time I awoke crying in the night after dreaming about dead fall leaves blowing past tombstones in a cemetery. Back in 1975, death wasn't a subject we talked about in school. It wasn't a subject written about in children's books (at least, not the ones I was reading), or something my parents discussed much with me. It was difficult for me to accept the idea of a child with whom I played, who was so alive, being gone forever.

It still makes me sad to think about Catherine, though nowadays I believe that something awaits us after death, that our spirits still exist in some way. I've experienced paranormal occurrences which seem to support this, and I cling to a hope that death isn't truly the end. I value my life all the more today knowing that I've had the chance to experience life events that she never did: attending high school and, later, college, dating, graduating with my Bachelor's Degree, raising a family, as well as all of the wonderful things, small and large, that happen along the way as we trudge the road of happy destiny. Catherine never got to attend her first rock concert, nervously await her date on prom night, or experience the absolute bliss of holding her newborn child for the first time. I have cherished these events all the more for knowing what a true gift they were.

Somewhere in my house, I'm fairly sure I still have that little plastic cat. Several times over the years as I've been cleaning out old stuff I've come across it, held it briefly and thought about Catherine, and tucked it away again. For me, it represents the preciousness of childhood friendship, the fragility of life and the infinite value of each and every day we spend alive on this planet.

I've never forgotten you, Catherine. Thanks for being a special part of my memories.

Monday Mutterings

Ah, Monday. That day you can't quite trust is upon us again. I, for one, am kind of in the mood for Monday today, having survived the crazy holiday season and arrived in 2011 relatively unscathed. We're back to homeschooling in this house, and back to work in the plumbing business and in the business of art as well. Simply put, we're back to being madly busy! It was nice to experience a break from the insanity; I feel refreshed and ready to get my hands back into the muck of life.

This morning, in the early hours of the day, I returned to the gym. I'm happy that I didn't gain any weight over the holiday break, because now that it's over I can pick up where I left off. Had I gained any of the previously shed weight back, I'd be starting over again, in a sense. I'm not ready for that; I worked too damned hard to get rid of that extra pudge and, to papaphrase Robert Frost, I'm not going quietly into that
dark night again.

Onward and upward, into Monday!

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Welcome 2011

We spent a fun night last night, hanging out at a party with friends and then heading home at 11:00pm. After the holiday traveling and the general hoopla of the season, we were tired and in the mood to greet the new year from within the comfort of our own walls. By midnight, we were hunkered down in the quiet warmth of our king sized bed.

I'm looking forward to the start of a new year. For me, and for my family as well, 2010 was a year of new beginnings and positive growth. For me personally, it was a year of growth in parenting, homeschooling, artistic creating, and spirituality. I overcame a bit of fear, stepped out a little, and created some new beginnings. This year I hope to build on what has been started and step our further still. I feel more confident in who I am, and I'm more motivated now than I think I've ever been in my life to dive into the sea of infinite possibility.

May 2011 be a year of good health, peace, happiness, and prosperity for us all!


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