Waiting for Sprinkles

I am emotionally driven by the idea of rain. 

It's been a lazy Saturday morning (thank god), which I've needed more than anything. I woke up late-ish: 8:30. The girls spent about 30 minutes nuzzling me, convincing me to get up with little kisses. A bowl of cereal and cup of coffee with gingerbread cocoa mixed in helped me to muster up some energy while browsing the day's news online. But despite riveting stories of how I'm losing more money in my investments, how our politicians are still too damn proud to frickin work together, and a few video clips of Steve Jobs's commencement speech, I found myself compulsively checking weather radars. 

This drought is taking a serious toll on my project therapy. Another coral honeysuckle meets it's end.

One of my most impressive specimens, one of two 6 foot+ butterfly bushes, hasn't died and is actually  sending out new leaflets in the "cooler" temperatures but is draped in wrinkled, burned leaves from the summer. Several of the branches have died, but I'll prune those when when fall actually shows its face.

 My raspberry salvia greggi has chosen to bloom for the first time since maybe March, but it's neighbor - a dwarf silver sage that used to produce the most beautiful bright blue flowers - shriveled up despite being watered.

My red bud's foliage is taking on interesting stress patterns. I have babied this tree for 3 years now, and strangely enough, even with the horrible drought, my constant attention has allowed the tree to keep leaves all the way into October! Both previous summers the leaves turned black by July and fell off well before fall ever arrived. 

I AM A GARDENER!!!!!! But I can't bring myself to garden when I know my efforts are futile.

For about 2 minutes, it rained hard at my house. When I heard those first few drops on my chimney, my eyes actually welled up a bit I was so excited. I literally ran out to the back porch so I could feel the drops in my hair, on my face, through my shirt. A few seconds of standing in the rain and I got to see something I haven't in almost a year: water shooting out of the gutter spout! When we bought the house it was gutterless. $800 later our house was equipped for the torrential flooding we will apparently never see. My rain barrel stands without purpose. Does anyone else have fingers crossed for category 5 hurricane? How is it possible that virtually the entire state of Texas is seeing rain or has seen rain in the last month or so, and Austin is still being savagely punished? 

I'm going to continue with my lazy Saturday but with the TV muted and the music stopped in case I am so lucky to hear a few more sprinkles. 

Cabin Fever

an exact replica of my front yard

I am suffering from some serious cabin fever brought on by the debilitating heat.

Here I have my big list of projects I want to complete, but I'm not really interested in painting right now, and my personal trainer is absorbing my extra money that would ordinarily go toward buying light fixtures, etc. All that leaves me are my outdoor projects, and I have no desire to work in this extended summer heat. I can't plant anything. It's too darn dry. And I definitely don't want to start my landscaping renovations while sitting outside breaks a sweat.

I've already made the conscious decision to pretend it's fall by wearing scarves and sweaters to school despite what temperatures it might be outside my band hall walls. Trying to time taking my doglets out on a walk is hard with my school schedule while still waiting for it to cool down enough for their low to the ground tummies not to rotisserie on the pavement. AND my electric bill is crazy as I require 69 degrees for a proper night's sleep.

I am sooooo over this weather.

A Decade Revisited

I realize I'm a day early, but my mind is thinking of it now, so I'll explore it now.

I really can't believe that September 11th was 10 years ago. I, like most of you, remember exactly where I was at the exact moment I heard. I was a sophomore in college, in the shower of my dorm, getting ready for my 9:30 Geosciences class. The shampoo was in my hair when I heard a girl run in to tell her roommate, who was brushing her teeth, that we had been bombed... well not bombed, but hit by a plane. I heard this and couldn't understand what exactly that meant... We'd been hit by a plane? The girl was almost unintelligible because she was talking so fast, but my first thought was 'Are going to war?' followed immediately by 'Are we going to start a draft?' I was thinking solely of my boyfriend at the time, wondering if he would be sent away to some foreign country against his will because someone hit us with a plane... I still didn't understand what that meant.

I rinsed out my hair, didn't bother with conditioner or anything else (which if you've read my curly hair page you know is just wrong), and wrapped myself up in a towel so I could go into the commons room on my floor where probably 20 girls were crowded around the big screen TV watching the news. Everyone was silent. I was only in there for about 10 seconds before they replayed the video we've all seen probably 1000 times too many - the first plane hitting the tower. I was not the only one seeing it for the first time, and we were differentiated from the rest by our sudden gasps and subsequent holding of breaths. The others merely continued watching in shocked silence. It wasn't long after that the silence turned to tears for many of the girls as we watched the second plane hit and the reports of the other two rogue planes were linked to it all. Contrary to what we all quietly hoped, this was not a horrible accident, and the world would be eternally different.

Not a week before, I had been talking with my boyfriend and some of our friends about how every generation has their war. We wondered if we were finally at a point in civilization that our generation would skip that. It's funny how the universe chooses to wait for those "knock on wood" phrases to escape our lips before acting... not that I truly believe that conversation was the catalyst for a decade of tragedy, but on more than one occasion that day I eerily thought back to our words just days prior.

Gas jumped 80 cents to $1.88 in a few hours. I remember this because, unlike the mob of crazy people that instantly decided they needed to stock up on gas, I was running on fumes and had to wait in line for more than half an hour just to fill up. I didn't have a cell phone to talk to my parents while I waited, so I was forced to listen to the radio reports and replays of the mornings events. It was bizarre and surreal and more than my 19 year old frame of mind knew how to process.

As I consider where I was 10 years ago, I have thought a lot this week about where I have been in the 10 years that followed. First of all, you know you are a full-fledged adult when you have an abundance of clear memories from 10 or more years ago. :) I feel like even though we label childhood and adolescence as "the formative years", the past decade has shaped me in ways the first two could not even reference.

I saw my first national tragedy, had my heart completely broken for the first time, and took my first stab at the reinvention of Darcy. I took on my first students, long before a piece of paper called me a teacher, and realized reinvention was merely growth. I got my first B, took my first (and last) attempt of holding two jobs, and got fired for the first (and last) time. I experimented for the first (and also last) time with dying my hair, and although I will probably never do that again until I encounter more than the occasional grey hair, I do make a good red head. I went to Europe for the first time, following that up with 4 other trips, and made my first legitimate effort at using a foreign language for real. I got my first tattoo and pierced my nose for the first time (oh yes, there will be a second... even if it's when I retire). I accepted my first "real" job, lived alone for the first time, and bought my first new car. I had my first experiences of dating as a working adult, got married (for the first time...), and took out our first mortgage. I got my first dog, decided a first wasn't enough, and got a second... and a third. I went to the Smithsonian for the first time, won my first contest, and painted the first of many walls. I learned to make my first crochet chain. I got my first power tool (a circular saw) for Christmas. I put down my first pet. I learned for the first time just how untrusting one can be of "the system". I lost my first husband and learned a whole lot of firsts with that. I bought my first DSL camera and took the first picture where I thought I knew what I was doing. I learned to make my first t-shirt necklace and bought my first voluntarily-purchased dress. I, for the first time, am feeling pressure in my job that I honestly need help to alleviate. AND... I saw my first muscle in my arm the other day. :)

The last decade has left me at the point that I actually feel like I kinda know who I am, what I stand for, and maybe more importantly what I absolutely do NOT stand for. I realize that virtually none of this has anything to do with the actions of terrorists, but it is where my mind takes me as I contemplate one of only a handful of days I will never forget.

*****************
Project for the day: unpack everything I packed when I though my house might burn down and pack up a lot of what I decided was okay to burn to give to Goodwill.

I am the master of my fate

Poetry is rarely my outlet, but I serendipitously found this poem last night that, while slightly more graphic that I would necessarily write, embodies much of what I have found in myself.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

                  -William Ernest Henley

Project:Me

I've known for some time that I have allowed myself to get really out of shape.

Alright... stop right there - don't you dare sit there thinking 'oh, please! you look fine' which is usually the response I get when I say that. Believe me, there is a VAST difference in being thin (which I'm definitely lucky enough to be without a whole lot of work) and being in shape.

I used to walk a 3.5 mile trek every day at the fastest speed I could muster without it turning into a jog... I don't believe in jogging. Mixed in with that, I was pretty consistent about also doing about 45 minutes of yoga in the evenings. I would venture to say that was probably the best shape I have been in post high school track. And then I started dating Roger.

It was WAY more fun to talk on the phone til all hours or go out for dinner and a movie than it was to keep any sort of schedule, and so I let my daily walks turn into a couple of times a week... which turned into once a week... which eventually stopped. At some point even Roger, who was just crazy enough to enjoy running, let working out go by the wayside in exchange for snuggling on the couch. I'm not going to exaggerate big time and say the pounds packed on, although a few did, but my flexibility, my endurance, and just the ability to keep my heart rate down while being over-animated for my students started to slide.

The indicator that has really done it for me though is my legs. I'm not referring to the chicken-like stature of my lower limbs but the "squish" factor. Over the course of 4-5 years my lower half has developed... "squish"... a mixture of "fluff" and a lack of muscle tone.

With not a whole lot to fill my evenings, if and when I actually get to leave the school, I decided about a month ago to join a gym. I purposely picked one that catered to my lack of motivation and ability to keep a schedule outside of the band hall. :) After a couple of weeks of huffing and puffing my way through half-hour elliptical sessions, I actually arranged my complimentary training session, after which I was conned into hiring a personal trainer for the semester.

A semester...

Tonight was my first official workout with the trainer chick, and there are about 2 muscles in my body that are not revolting against me in some form, and those are in my mouth. Although most of my projects become long-term projects (my bathroom wall is still 2 different colors like it was 2 weeks ago), I am embarking on a true long-term project that I am fully committed to, if for no other reason than because I am financially bound to actually attend. While the majority of the tasks I undertake are aesthetic and purely for visual pleasure, I think it is fitting that in this time of life-changing growth and new development I take on Project:Me to be healthier, feel better, sleep better, and "treat" myself in a way that is generally more worthwhile than the occasional 89 cent 5 layer nacho from Taco Bell, which I freely admit was my dinner last night... yum... fake chili... :)

No pictures to follow... unless of course I find a visible muscle.

Duality

It’s been six months on my own. I finally feel like I have a “normal” groove and fit into my own life again. I find I am both relieved and sad that life feels “normal”. Everything about my day to day has been a rollercoaster for so long that having no significant worry or tragedy looming over me is almost bizarre. By no means is life stress-free! My job has my every thought and ounce of energy booked through Thanksgiving, but that is a stress I know how to handle.

I have several pictures of Roger and I on the piano from the memorial. I have to admit I haven’t stared at them in quite a while like I used to. But yesterday I happened to look in that direction, and my eye was caught by a picture of us from before we were married, looking so carefree, relaxed, and happy. I literally felt my heart flutter, that same rush of adrenaline you get the first time you’re kissed or in those early stages of a relationship when a simple look is enough to make your stomach fall. But sadly, it wasn’t a tender thought or loving memory that brought it on. It was the realization that that all just happened!

It’s not like I ever forget; how could I. But I am constantly reminded after however brief or long a period of calm that I just went through the most horrific shit storm and that all the wonderful and crappy moments of the last four and a half years were MY life. I am both deeply embedded and extricated from my own reality, and that is a strange level of consciousness I must say.

Painting with a Twist

What do you with 2 gallons of an impulse paint purchase of two colors that you swore you would love in your toilet room only to discover that not only do you hate it but you also realize you have $50 in paint that you will never use ANYWHERE?

You create a $68 masterpiece!!!

Earlier this summer I found these rugs at Ikea that I decided I must have. They are teal shag rugs with shag thick enough to be worms that feel wonderful under your feet and are favorites of my doglets. In fact, I wasn't sold on keeping them until I saw how much Lucy and Scarlet loved curling up in the shag. The problem with the rugs was that I don't have that teal color anywhere else in my house, so they looked very out of place. Not only that, but the teal made my bathroom cabinets look even more yellowy than before which was why I finally mustered the energy to paint them. The result is the picture below. 

You can just see the teal rug at the bottom. In case you forgot what they looked like before, here is the horrible picture from a month or so ago:

Soooo much better in my opinion. But again, there was the problem with needing a repetition of the teal color somewhere else in the bathroom to make it cohesive and not out of place. My stupid idea was to paint my tiny toilet room with the back wall in teal and the other 3 a lighter shade from the same paint chip. OMG, that idea sucked... I'm not even willing to show you a picture of what it currently looks like. Maybe that will be tomorrow's project. 

I've decided to paint the toilet room either the brown of my bedroom or the lighter chocolate-y color of my living room, maybe even a mixture of the two. But I still felt the need to repeat the teal somewhere in there... And find a use for $50 worth of very color specific paint. 

After our region meeting I went to Hobby Lobby and purchased 3 canvases and some green Frog Tape. I taped some designs onto the canvases and started painting. The final product is the picture up at the top. I assure you they are teal and not the blue color they look like on my computer. I really like them! :) And now I can hang them on the wall and incorporate a color I really like without being inundated with teal vomit!