Thursday, January 06, 2011


Dapple. Dapple. Dapple.

It was the word whirling around in my brain, as I walked the dogs this morning, early enough so that many a commuter got to see me pick up the business Jake so graciously dumped along a busy corridor.

Dappled in sunshine, words robbed of their meaning, being quaint and all. But it was ever so lovely out today, I could hardly stand it.

After a four mile journey, both mutts came to rest on my unmade bed, exhausted and utterly content to lay in the sun.


My days are interrupted since the move. We live auspiciously close to both schools, yet too far to realistically walk back and forth to their respective schools, especially considering their schedules are staggered. [Come spring - and more sunshine dapple dapple dapple I plan to work in walking/riding bikes, etc one drop-off/pick up or another each day.] So I'm a preschool mom again, setting timers for the school Siren's call, luring me in to the schools four times a day.

Or in this case, five. Today, as I write this, I wait with my son and both dogs while Lexi auditions for a play. Or at least I hope that's what she's doing. She has been trying to talk herself out of it all winter break, as her Dad and I try to convince her it's a great idea. And it would be good for my introverted girl to go through any audition. Of course she knows that 'good for you' is just parentspeak for pushing yourself into doing something difficult, like eating your veggies or getting along with your brother. So I'm especially proud of her for trying something new, something that puts her on edge and opens new doors for her.

And if someday soon, she is dappled in spotlight - please help me - all the better.

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

resolute (Or conversely: How to channel Sue while gripping a large bottle of vino at Safeway)

I took an informal poll (I watched talk shows & pundits while disrobing the Christmas tree and consulted my dogs) and the results are in: Resolutions are out. Apparently because they are bogus and don't work.

Now I don't take to a pen and get all serious with New Year's resolutions on January 1st, but I still contend that making realistic changes to meet goals is time well spent, whether at the beginning of the calendar year, or school year or randomly on February 29th, every four years. I personally like to re-evaluate my lifestyle every season, and see what I'd like to take up or leave out, and it works for me and my silly brain. Three months feels just right to me.

Pauses and ponders momentarily

However, I tend to recall picturing 2010 far differently last January, and being flexible made the curve balls and other cliched surprises far easier to handle. For instance:

  1. I started subbing as a staff assistant in a special education classroom and found that I really loved working with the young children in the program, as did my daughter.
  2. Which led to me getting to teach Zumba, on a occasion, at the school.
  3. And then I left that behind, and made a rather abrupt move, leaving behind any job connections
  4. I had an opportunity to go to Italy, France & Monaco in August, and
  5. I have more time now to pursue writing & crafty goals, the thing I was seeking last year, but never managed because of all the other plans 2011 had for me.
So clearly I am no better at this stuff than the pundits, filling air time and chewing up what remains of my braincells.


It was mid-December and I was Bound & Determined to finish my errands that morning, donning a dirty post-workout ponytail and track suit. I was finishing up at Safeway, grabbing a gift card and some wine for the company that was due to be arriving in a few days. My December (tired, hungry, crabby) reptilian brain lit up upon seeing the massive bottle of Mondavi on sale. Problem solved and away I went through the express lane. Except you know that's not how it happened. I ended up at customer service because the gift card may or may not have been properly activated at the self-servicy thing.

Customer service. Heh. It was deserted, save for the four employees that would cash their paychecks before I was acknowledged, and after ten very long Christmas minutes passed. Of course, the clerk wasn't much help as she tried read my Magical Starbucks Card like a tarot card.

And here's when I started to lose my (lizard) mind: She told me three times, chanting really, that they were going to put a sign up, warning customers of this little debacle days before, but they had been too busy. Telling me that instead of solving the problem with a sharpie, they had opted for the now 20 minute hassle/tarot session, again and again, during the height of holiday shopping.

I tried to be sympathetic, I did, and I thought about offering to make the signs up myself but then a bunch of employees started taking turns wishing another employee 'Happy Birthday' over the loud speaker, so I figured I'd let them handle their own sign dilemmas. That and any insistence that they remedy the problem seemed to fall on deaf ears, coming from a Sue Sylvester disciple clutching one enormous bottle of wine.

Oh well.

But it got me thinking: Sometimes all the talk and intention in the world isn't enough, and we have to be resolute to make things happen, to take action, even as we hold on loosely to a world quick to change under our feet.

Sunday, January 02, 2011


Things are different this year. This is not entirely good. Nor bad. Ours lives are different.

(And for the expanded version of this spiel, cry and name something, anything, you wish were different. I am the master of the change spiel this year. I console myself with it all the time.)

And now I sound all somber and blue; I'm not. After having company here in Eugene, and traveling to see both sides of the family, and Greg's end of quarter and seeing some of my dearest friends over break, I'm just rightfully tired and in love with the low key right now: putting around the house, planning Zumba sets, napping and reading.

Yet today is Greg's birthday, and though we aren't hosting a party this year, as God as my witness, I will get out of this robe (not yet) and celebrate like a proper wife ought to.

(I see football and wine in my near future.)

So happy birthday to my dear husband. I adore you. I really, really do.