monkey pod

i took my tears to the monkey pod tree

who sat beside, consoling me

the grass beyond looked soft and green

but i chose the monkey pod tree

tall and lean, but wider branches still

his arms seemed to welcome me

so there among the thorny, dry grass

i lay beneath this gangly tree

there i rested 'til my eyes were dry

my tears no more to quench the ground,

my shadow grew long as the monkey branch

then disappeared with a disappearing sun

alas the nightly breeze bade me leave my monkey pod friend

and thanking him for a kindly ear, i followed suit with sun and shade

moses supposeth

if moses supposes his toeses are roses,

then moses supposes erroneously.  

kauai keiki

well, i'm sitting here at shaka taco, not eating a taco.  but here i am, with my birthday buddy, katie.  yesterday i became another year wiser, and tomorrow so will she.  so, the only thing to be done about that is to make two birthday cakes for two people in the span of three days.  i am a yellow cake with dark chocolate frosting type of person, and katie is a german chocolate kinda gal.  which means she will be eating the whole thing since i must abstain from coconut-laced delicacies.  good luck katie.

we just stopped by her classroom for a minute before she delves into her paper grading and lesson planning.  the eighth grade teacher, my friend, the eight grade teacher.  we met in ninth grade, which means i've known her for.... a long time.  about a decade.  ah, long gone are the days when i sat behind katie cugno and graded her math assignments in class when we traded papers.  for me first period meant math and staring at the back of this girl's head (and her fluorescent orange barrettes) and getting my papers graded in fluorescent orange ink.  for her, so i learned years later, once we actually became good friends, first period meant getting my dog's fur all over her backpack... very aggravating.  sorry katie.  he still sheds.

now, we're teachers on spring break, scheming some new plan, as usual.  i've decided to learn how to make cheese, and katie is talking about picking apples in the future.  i like it.    

pink dinners and irish dinners

i've known kathleen forever. i lived with her for a while when i was younger, and then she came to live with me for a bit when i was older. she came over the other night for st patricks day because she's the most irish person we know. we made irish food and watched waking ned divine, which is hilarious. it's about a guy who wins the lottery and then dies, well not really about him i guess, because he never really makes it into the movie alive. it's about everyone else, and it's very funny. you should watch it sometime.

the dinner/movie thing reminded us of the last time.... the last time we cooked, or at least the last memorable time. and the last time we watched a movie together. dinner was entirely pink. we never intended to color coordinate our meal, but for some reason everything we ate was pink, which if you think about it is a fairly unusualy color for natural foods. prepared ones anyway. i remember it tasted good, but it just never looked very appetizing. i have also had yellow meals with the same effect. Color-themed meals are not pretty.

anyway, the movie was even funnier than the food, not that it was a comedy. we decided to watch the ghost and the darkness, which also happens to be a pretty good show. there's this scene where val kilmer is hunting a lion and he's about to get pounced on. lion is crouching, heavy drama music swells. it doesn't look good... and i looked over to kathleen at this moment, who is sitting in her chair, on the edge of her chair, looking very tense. and unbeknownst to her, at her feet the cat was sizing up the leap to her lap. cat on screen jumps, cat jumps onto kathleen, i say 'boo', kathleen jumps. really, really high. all in a matter of about a second. oh, it was so funny.

it is what it is

i have a feeling these next few months are going to fly by. it's scary, because it's like life inexorably escapes me. i don't know where it goes, but it goes, continuously. it is here and then gone, unending moment upon moment until one day. gone. and the irony is how it just seems to crawl, getting nowhere, all the while everything whizzes by. gone. i have a lot coming up, a chunk of time dedicated to this activity, a chunk to that.

some time spent on estate-type work, work that necessarily rewinds bits of life, examines the memories, judges them, and eventually moves on knowing that many of those unearthed recollections have been recalled for probably the last time. the stuff of those dear thoughts must be sold or given away to someone else who can appreciate them and give them new purpose and life. who knew that just a tub full of fabric scraps could sum up an entire childhood, telling of forgotten school plays, old wardrobes, curtains that used to hang in the living room where so much laughter and talking happened, curtains made for lisa's far-off dorm room, projects i watched take shape over the years, all the textiles that are most familiar too me, now that i remember them. april 12th they will sit in a yard sale, waiting for someone to come along and make them into a quilt, work them into their own stories.

very soon there will be some leisure, some reuniting with friends... but what am i doing? what i do has to be done, but what is the value in it? it seems so... slow and stuck in the past. i am anxious to move on, but to what? i am terrified of living a life to pay the bills and feed myself. if it ever boils down to that, i will have a real problem. but that is my fear, having potential and never using it. not recognizing it or not being brave enough to . settling. i seem to be lacking in the department of great ideas, and struggling to be content with what life is. it is what it is. but i seem bent on knowing what it could be. living in the present can be so difficult.

The Ducks

Every year, two ducks land in our pond about this time of year. They usually leave after several weeks of lazing about our yard and entertaining us with lots of waddling and "waa waa waa waa". I am no avian expert, so I can only speculate where they are going or why they hang around while they do. But I think they might actually be spies disguised as ducks, gathering information all along their "migration route." Good cover, no? Satellites are a little suspicious, but who would suspect a duck? I'm going to have to look into it. I'm also trying to figure out if these are the same pair every year, or if by chance we happen to get two random duck visitors every year. The second scenario seems unlikely, but I am beginning to wonder how long ducks live. They've been coming for years.... which makes the spy theory look a little more promising. I may need to read up on my birds.

I Answered the Phone...

I rarely answer the phone anymore, because every time it rings I think... either it's Roscoe, or a telemarketer. It's almost always a telemarketer, so I don't often answer it. And this irritates Lisa because it might not be a telemarketer. Who knows, it could be someone looking for one of the several people who once lived...here. Anyway, a couple of days ago, by chance, I was standing right next to the phone when it rang. Why not? I picked it up. Not a telemarketer, a survey. Oooo... ok, I was feeling cooperative, not too busy. I took the survey. And the "quick survey," in fact, turned out to be more involved than quick.

Have I ever been called for jury duty?
Would I be able to be on a jury if asked?
Would my employer compensate me?
What do I think about this aspect of the legal system, that aspect?
Is everyone guilty?
Have I ever committed a felony?
Do I know any cops?
Jailers?
Lawyers?
Judges?
Do I know this lawyer, that officer .....
How well do you know him?
Does he live in your town?

... oh, I forgot a page of questions... and on and on. Lisa was glaring at me. "Who are you talking to? Erin, I need the phone."

Ok, so eventually the lady tells me that the research group is having a focus group this weekend. Would I be willing to be an alternate in case one of their participants cancels? It would only last from 9am-5pm.

And then I heard myself telling her that that would be fine. Wow, Erin, you hate these kinds of disccussions: talking with a large group, of complete strangers, for hours on end, without food or sunlight, about topics you know virtually nothing about. What is your problem? For some reason I tend to sign myself up for things that I know will make me uncomfortable, thinking that I might grow into it, or something. I don't know if this is a good habit or a bad habit. But it is definitely a very annoying habit. I kicked myself and tried to envision myself sitting in a room with a bunch of people, telling them what I think of the legal system as it functions here in south central Idaho. And I drew a complete blank.

So, today the researchers called back with the good news that they now have an open spot, if I would be willing to participate. Sure, I said. Good grief Erin. But for some strange reason, I am acutally excited about this. I have never been in a focus group, maybe never will be asked again. And quite frankly, I am very curious to see what this is all about and to see what the process is like. And I guess it doesn't hurt that breakfast and lunch will be provided... I'm always a sucker for free food. And I suppose the $200 they are going to pay me to talk to them about what I think is a pretty nice bonus.

Good thing I answered the phone.... now I've qot a little adventure this weekend. I will sit in a room with 24 other people for 8 hours talking about all kinds of legal stuff. Hmmm... could be interesting. Could pay for a plane ticket to Seattle too.

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa

I think Otis Redding says it best. Faaa fa-fa fa fa fa-fa faa fa. What does it mean...? Who cares, I mean it's a sad song, but it's a lovely song. It's like listening to someone with a great accent. You don't really care about what they're saying. They could be talking about their ailing grandmother and you'd still be smiling. I was watching a commercial on tv recently when some pennsylvania friends were out for a visit. It was about a vacuum. It was captivating. Do I care about vacuum technology, do I even remember which vacuum was advertised? Pretty much no, but Shannon and I were still drooling over it. Was the guy particularly good-looking? No, no you would be missing the point here. He was...British I think. Which means that whatever he says is absolutely fascinating.

Now Matt picked up on this right away and was giving us a bad time. He said it's so annoying how girls will swoon over an Australian accent, New Zealand, English, Irish, Scottish... I admit, it's completely shallow, but... ahem... it's not just girls, I reminded him. Which he conceded. So why is that? What is so lovely about some accents, and let's face it, repulsive about others. Not all accents are appealing. The Brooklyn doesn't do it for me. But Scottish, you can't even understand sometimes... which is just perfect.

I think it must be the combination of familiar language and the strangeness of its sound. It demands your attention, to really catch it and somehow you just get caught up in catching it all. Maybe that's part of why we like lyrics and poetry. It's not the mundane language we're used to hearing and saying all day. It makes you think about what's being said, but mostly it's supposed to sound pleasant. There's a rhythm to it, which is hard to resist.

Hi Kids

i just recently came accross the last letter my father wrote to me, which is significant because i don't remember him ever writing one before it. he wrote it last february, and i am so glad to have it since he will never give me any more advice. he wasn't big on advice, so i don't know what came over him to make him write this:

Hi Kids,


It has been on my mind to pass some thoughts along to you.

It constantly amazes me how fast time passes. Be sure to savor every moment even if it is somewhat bitter. The bitterness defines the sweetness. Smell the flowers. Plan for the future, but live in the present. It is only here for an instant and then it is gone forever. Treasure your memories and savor the past, but don't live there. Make life a well planned adventure. Always look foreward.

I recall your mother's quoting her father telling her that she will make mistakes, but try not to make the same ones twice-- there are enough to make without repeating any. I have found this true. Sometimes you may find yourselves lingering too long in one mistake. Once you realize it, move on. Don't dwell on your mistakes, just learn from them.

People and family are important. Stuff is just a tool to help you enjoy life. Live for the Lord and work in his will. Real happiness is found there. Remember that temporal life is a journey and a preparation for eternity, where real peace abides.

All my love!

Dad

Elevator Romance

i know, nothing screams romance like an elevator. or perhaps you disagree. but before you're set on your opinion, let me tell you a little story. this is a story about two people who meet in an elevator, an elevator that would change their lives in a way they never could have known. call it fate, call it technical difficulties, call it whatever you like, but don't laugh, because for all you know, it could be a true life story.

one day, (i'll change the names to protect the actual characters) hildegard got onto an elevator at the fourth floor. the elevator went up. the elevator stopped at the seventh floor. the doors opened. ademaro [which means glorious in battle, but is completely irrelevant since this was not actually his name] got onto the elevator. the doors closed. the elevator went up. it got stuck between the tenth and eleventh floors. it would not go up. it would not go down. the elevator was stuck for nineteen hours. hildegard and ademaro were together for nineteen hours. they talked, and talked, and talked. finally, the elevator went up and the doors opened. hildegard and ademaro were tired. they were hungry. they were thirsty. they were in love. three months later they got married.

if you do a little editing, make all the verbs simple present tense, change the names back, you pretty much have the story i gave to my students. they thought is was pretty funny. but like i said, don't laugh, because i have a certain friend who once had a very special elevator experience. i wasn't there, but i've heard the story many times. apparently she was wearing a nice sweater that almost got her a suiter.... almost.

Plans

i am ready. ready for summer. i realize that i may be rushing things a little, but there's nothing like anticipation right? besides, it's already march, which has got to be one of the best months known to man. and i'm already planning some fun summer goals. last week i went snow shoeing twice, which was super fun, but now i am waiting for the melting to hurry up so i can get to my favorite activities. like hiking, running, climbing in and out of the canyon, biking, and finally, yellow stone exploration.

as for hiking: must hike pocatello with monica, and something in boise... maybe mt. borah, you ready monty? and of course the endless possibilites north of here. day hikes, yes, but there is also some exciting scheeming going on about a 60 mile hike from galena to stanley, where we can resupply, and back. and apparently mike wants to hike every peak in between.

and then maybe a half marathon in june, which i would be more likely to do if i had a running buddy, even if that running buddy only ran with me on race day... hint, hint.... katie. i think you should do it. and then, maybe, maybe, maybe in october if all goes well, maybe i will run a full marathon with gen and bobby. finally. or else... one day i will run one.

i am thinking i might bike to buhl one day, i've always sort of wanted to. i don't know why buhl exactly, but smith dairy does have very good ice cream, so that might make it worthwhile.

so that's what i'm thinking for now. if you want to come visit, bring some hiking boots. i'm going to the canyon first, it's not as snowy right now.