Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Today is the full day of Winter Carnival activities. And for the first time in eons, trivia is part of the plan. Granted, it's a short version, but still-- fun to be included. I had to rummage in my closet for all the blue clothes I could find for today; as a sophomore class adviser, their assigned color to wear today is blue. I found comfy blue stuff (even my underwear!!) so I'm all set. All I can say is, I'm glad we are not wearing white. That's harder for me in the winter. Or really, anytime. I tend to get stuff on me if I'm wearing white.  That said, I'll be supervising activities until about noon, then I'll go get Holly. Today is the first day she's been back in school since last Thursday. Poor bean has been awfully sick. Figures, today's the last day before vacation week, but still, she misses her friends. They have a half day, so I will go pick her up at lunchtime, and then we'll figure out something or other to do. I hope the predicted sn...

New from U2: " American Obituary " Worth a listen.  Take care of those you love. Hang in there. C

We haven't had many birds at all at our feeders in the back yard this winter; first, there was the bear devastation, then we re-hung them after the coast was clear-- but no takers. G moved the feeders last week to the front yard, hanging them all in the lilac hedge. Still no takers. Then, in the late afternoon, I heard a mild bird-chirping racket!  How nice to see a chickadee, three purple finches, and one other small bird all vying for seed at one of the feeders! Hooray! They are a friendly presence, and I love hearing them and watching the swoop and flutter around.  I got really fond of watching the birds during the Covid lockdown months. There were so many! reduced traffic and other busy-ness, and the birds were in charge. Not so now, which is sad. Though in the summer months when the forsythia shrubs are all leafed out and the rose bush tangle is thick, the small ones love to hide and dart around. It's a lot of fun to float in the pool and have the birds talking to you wit...

Mardi Gras... I'll be spending it at work, then home, and likely no pancakes. Though that could change.  I'd like to give up social media for Lent, but I'm in the middle of promoting the pre-sales of my little book.  I will give up using credit cards.  I will try harder to not fall into despair.  It's a lot.  Love to all, C

  And here we are, Monday again.  The news cycle is toxic, and I spent far too much time reading and watching video this weekend. I feel like my brain needs a purge.  This is Winter Carnival Week at school-- dress-up days every day, games on Thursday afternoon and Friday. Today, the dress-up day is "white lie"-- I am not participating this time around, because I didn't want to go buy a plain white tee shirt to write on. The idea is to write a small untruth about yourself on your tee shirt and wear it.  Nah. I live it every day.  Lately, I've been feeling a little less of an imposter in the AP world, but it still hovers around me. And the poetry world-- yeah, I'm never going to be comfortable, or so it seems. Wife? Mother? Memere? I do my best, but I know I'm not ever going to measure up. I am just a short, round, grumpy old English teacher who is disappointed in the way the world is a mess. Unfortunately, I tend to see the world from that point of view more of...

I f inished reading Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna (2009). It is a truly remarkable tale, one that focuses on the complicated relationship we have here in the US with artists (all creatives, really) who are political, and with political artists. And yes, there is a distinction to be made there. She tells the story of a young man, Harrison Shepherd, born of an American father and a Mexican mother, and his complex relationship with people, artists in particular, and with his own inner struggles. He becomes a writer who is then excoriated by the government during the 1950s "Red Scare," all because he had worked for noted Mexican artists (Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo) and other communist revolutionaries (notably, Trotsky) as a young man living in Mexico. The press is easily led, people begin to shun him (even his closest male friend and his neighbors), and he becomes a ghost of himself. Even his publisher, who had made a lot of money off his work, canceled their relationshi...