Earth worms are people, too

Every year I resemble an earth worm more and more: pale and chubby with bad eyesight.
After doing some yard work with son, I noticed the earth where the earth worms were was rich, loamy and soft. The harder clay dirt was worm free. Now, either earth worms are very smart and only go to the good stuff or they make the bad stuff better.
Either way, earth worms make the earth a better place, pun intended.
Here's my ode to earth worms:

Oh wormy in my garden green
seems that you are hardly seen
I thank you for the work you do
Sorry the boys cut you in two.

All You Need is Love,

We're having a Beatles renaissance in our house. Again. We let Jake watch "Across the Universe" and he was hooked. Not just on the soundtrack but the Beatles in general. He even read parts of my Mojo Magazine "Beatles 101" issue. We watched (embarassing confession here) American Idol's Beatles nights. They didn't trash it too much...loved Chakizi's rendition "She's a Woman." Seriously it was brilliant. With the fact that it's American Idol.
Listening to lots of Beatles is a blessing and a curse for me.

Blessings: it's damn good music, some of the best ever written and performed, it's absolutely timeless. I have worshipped the Beatles since I can remember. I remember laying in bed at night, when I was about Jake's age, 1969 or so, upper West side, New York City, listening to Yellow Submarine over and over and over, unable to fall asleep unless I was listening to it. Mesmerized by "Only a Northern Song" I tried to make meaning of the words as I fell into the rhythm and melody. I imagined what it would be like to really live on a submarine. I dreamed of marrying one of the Beatles, sitting backstage during a concert, watching the girls scream for the man who loved ME. (another embarassing confession but in my defense, I was only 6 or 7)

Curse: it was my Dad's favorite band and listening to many of the songs I haven't listened to since before my Dad passed away is bittersweet. My grief pangs modulate, sometimes days go by with no thoughts, sometimes I still cry like a baby. Memories are coming to the surface, simple memories of my Dad singing along to the Beatles in the car. Amazing memories of when he played "Let it Be" during a sermon when rendered speechless by a particularly bloody day in Viet Nam. His congretation had discussed it the previous Sunday during coffee hour and my Dad agonized all week on what to say. His congregation was overwhelmingly anti-Viet Nam war and they wanted answers from their spiritual leader, my father. He had no answers to soothe them or himself about the senseless war that was killing innocent people and children on both sides and for what. He let Paul McCartney speak for him. It was a major turning point in my life, that day in church. I was woken to the power of art and music, human suffering and compassion. It was one of my Dad's last sermons in that church, he turned his work to protesting the Viet Nam war, working for Clergy and Layman Concerned and writing a book called "They Can't Go Home Again" about draft evasion, even appearing on "60 minutes" after he visited Viet Nam. Amazing. Again, the memories are bittersweet. I hate him not being here, I hate the fact he never met Jake, I hate the fact I can't talk to the smartest person I ever met. I hate the fact that Sunday nights have felt empty since he got really sick and couldn't do his sunday night calls, I still sometimes, for a brief second, think he's going to call.
See?, the tears are starting to fall as I type. That's the problem with loving someone so much. When they leave, there's no place for that love to go. Maybe the love is in my tears, rolling down my cheeks, evaporating into the atmosphere. Better out than in I always say. Times were when I thought I couldn't take it, the loss, the hole in my life, that pain in the gut.

Some people perish from grief, afraid of love and loss. Not me. I wipe my tears, get up, and give as much love to the people around me as I can.

Now, how did I get from American Idol to this? It's my brain on blogs.

Girlfriends by Candlelight

Ali's house, perched on the Oakland hills. There was no better place to be during Earth Hour. Not just because she has house with the killer view to see the lights go out but because my bestest and oldest girlfriends were there (sans Lauren and Mia, boo-hoo).
Earth Hour is once a year, lights out for an hour to globally reduce carbon output by millions, maybe billions of cubicsf. Lorna said she and Jovan play Earth Hour but call it "Castle Night" and have great fun playing it. What's not fun about turning out the lights, your dark house filled with candlelight? At our old house, we played that alot, cuz PGE had issues, but yes, now it's a game. And last night it was a serious lights out, to save the planet...

The view was impeded a bit by fog but I'm sure the GGB lights were out and after reading the morning paper, sure enough, the lights were out on the GGB, Coit Tower and many, many other places. We could see the dark space that is usually the Oakland Coliseum, or whatever corporate name it has now. Why don't we do this everynight? Do we really need to light up an empty coliseum? Go green baby...
Off went the lights, on came the candles, as we drank martinis, local wine, ate Ingrid's delicious Morroccan chicken and just talked. The words flowed about breakups, marriage, kids, politics, vaginas, work, art, weddings, you name it. I don't know if you're lucky enough to have a group of amazingly intelligent, beautiful and funny friends like me but they're more precious to me than anything in my jewelry box.
Moment of the night was when Vicky produced the spectacular photo album of Ali's
40th river rafting party. The album represented years of hard work and I mean that literally. What a great event: in gold country, a community camp out, big trip on the river. Nadine was pregnant, Jake was still a little guy so we stayed behind and toured Sutter's Mill, a must for California history.
Second moment: singing Liz Happy Birthday with a Trader Joe's chocolate mousse cake.
Third moment: the great debate: Hilary vs. Obama: ideals vs. reality? Very interesting.
Here's to the Berkeley Girls, long may we run.

Heritage Night a Moomba

As I mentioned in earlier blog, Heritage Night at IVS.
Here's a picture of our table and Jake's "stockman" costume.
Notice Jake's shark tooth necklace and jar of Vegemite.
The hit of our table was giving people a whiff of Vegemite and telling everyone that Mommy used to put it on her toast....lots of eww, cool, gross, can I smell it again comments.(I've unfortunately lost my taste for it-me old mate Patrick Tracey, when I forced him to eat it many years ago, donned it "monkey vomit")
The kids loved picking up our stuffed kangaroo, koala, platypus and wombat, loved the "gum tree" full of koalas holding Aussie flags and loved reading "Snugglepot and Cuddlepie," "Big Rain Coming," "Australian Wildlife" and all the other great books. We even had a didjeridoo in the center. Fair dinkum!
Heritage night was a moomba (good time/party) with food, books and artifacts from around the world. We had an awesome steel drum player from Trinidad, he even played Waltzing Matilda for us-now that's something you don't hear everyday.
Sara Hare, our cultural goddess at IVS really outdid herself again.
Now it's time for:
SPRING BREAK!!! Thank you God, Allah, Jesus, Buddah, Bridget, the Tao, and anyone else who moves the sun and moon...

I am officially old....

A reply to my honorary bro Mark re: Outlands Music Festival in August:
(you know I'll end up going anyway)

It's official: I am officially OLD.

As much as I love many of the bands that will be playing, I find it unappealing to spend hundreds of dollars to go sit in Golden Gate Park on a cold foggy summer day and pay $8 for a shitty beer in a plastic cup, then have to pee in a portapotty and probably sit WAY back unless I get there at 5 in the morning, then they look like ants because my eyes are getting bad. Don't even get me started about sound quality.

That doesn't mean I don't rock. I just like to rock my way.

See, I told you I was officially old. An old princess.

Things...I'm....Doing.....if you can't sleep....

Writing letter campaign to our f**ked up politicians to keep money in our schools. Need I say more? Seven letters, signed, sealed, delivered, UP YOURS!

Heritage Day at Indian Valley School this Thursday. Jake will be dressing up like an Australian cowboy or stockman as they call them. Dungarees, desert boots or Blundies (blundstones), Akubra hat, and weapon of choice. (Mommy what did Australian cowboys use to kill snakes? Australia has a thrilling collection of lethal, venemous snakes, not to mention spiders, but a good boot will get rid of those.) Australia boasts a "Stockman's Museum" to honor the rough and tough settlers of the outback. I'm putting together a table exhibit of Australian culture: food (vegemite and eucalyptus tea), we'll be serving fairy bread (bread and butter with sprinkles or 100s and 1000s as they call them in Oz), lots of kids books, Aboriginal Art, flags, sports, flora, fauna, etc. Skipping the movies and music, not that kind of night. Looking forward to the fun family night at the school to celebrate our heritage. And yes, smart ass, they're more than just northern Europeans at our school....Africa, Asia, Phillipines, yeah!

Sign ups for swim team. Jake wants to be on the swim team this year. Should be A fun way to spend the summer, jawing with other parents while Jake stays fit and happy and plays with his friends, old and new. Plus, it's cheaper than Maui. Plus, we don't have to go to every practice and every meet. Thank the lord. If Jake loves it, we'll keep going on it, if not, we won't. Swimming is in our blood though, speaking of Australia. The joke is Australians are good swimmers from all the jumping off of convict boats in the Sydney harbor. hardehar bloody har, wankers.

Enjoying a week with no classes or papers. One more nine week term of academic classes (english learners, cal standards, etc.) and then it's focus on my subject (art) and hands on teaching. The light is at the end of the proverbial tunnel? It's been really rough putting alot of cool projects, family time, girlfriend time and volunteer jobs on hold for a year while I finish credential. But it'll be worth it! (Please God let it be worth it!)

Planning summer trip to Grand Canyon, Las Vegas with Carolyn and family, cousin Leanne's visit, short trip to Georgia to see Andrea's new baby, coming in July and Jeff and Sara's wedding in October.

And then there's the books. Always the writing. Will I ever, ever be published in real honest to god paper print book? Here's hoping.

And jewelry making, paper collage, my favorite art forms these days besides fotografie. Can't wait to have more time to create something beautiful!

And music, my guitars and drums are getting dusty. No time to play them or dust them.

Time to go pay bills, first I need a glass of wine to get me through it. Cheap wine that is.....all my good wine money is going into my gas tank, damnit. But that's another story.
Are you sleepy yet? You're welcome.

The Hardest Button to Button UH OH!

Victoria, a dear friend of the family, is a button artist...
check out her website. She has a thing about buttons like SIL Jeane has about beads like I have about paper, although they're much more productive with their things...
the proof is at:
http://www.fancyabutton.com/

Check it out and then listen to the White Stripes. They are not over, no matter what the critics say.

Pictures above are of Fancy a Button bracelets and button head. He was so cool I had to put him in twice.

Blessings

sometimes it is so, so hard to stay positive...
I feel like such a petty little bitch complaining about my overload of things to do. I am so busy, some days, I get up at 6:45 and minus a 25 minute lunch with myself and a ham sandwich, I go, all, day. sometimes I don't stop until 11 at night. I make breakfasts, snacks, lunches, pack backpacks, drive to school, drive to work, work a frustrating job, important but frustrating, pick up at after school club, drive home, get snack, do homework (his and mine), try to get something domestic done (laundry, vaccum, email, bills, paperwork, school stuff-his and mine), figure out dinner (isn't that half of it) cook it, run off to class and if it's not class night, it's bath night and more big piles of domestic stuff that just seems never ending....
some nights I want to smack someone because if I have to pick up one more dish or sock or toy I swear to God I will f***ing kill someone because I haven't had five minutes to myself except that pathetic lunchroom where parents, principals and staff come and go and if I say anything remotely off color I'm afraid I'll end up in the food stamp line. And if you know me, you know, I need my daily time to mouth off or else....
Then I hear myself complaining and I say, OHMYGOD, you are such a horrible person. You are accomplishing so much and you took this on and when you're not busy you're bored and when you're busy you bitch. Guess that makes me a busy bitch. So, instead of getting something productive done, I'm blogging, a boring, whining blog that no one will read but ohmygod, I feel better now.
I am going to fold laundry, get Jake in bath, make him brush his teeth after his pears and cheese (my son is SO European), put the seat down afer he pees, read him a book or two, cuddle, then go clean the kitchen, talk to my husband for 30 second spurts inbetween laundry, tidying, paperwork (where does it all come from, good lord!) feed the cat, prep for tomorrow (what am I going to make for lunch, tomorrow, f**k it, he can go to the cafeteria), clothes, is it baseball practice tomorrow?, boy scouts, sharing, paper due, picture day, crazy hair day? aw shit, you're old enought to remind me, then turning off the lights, locking the doors, charging my cell phone, brushing my teeth, taking off my bra (I really need a new one, the underwire is starting to stick out, Jesus woman, really!), setting the alarm, brushing my teeth, putting tea tree oil on my nails, washing my face, closing the door so the cat won't wake us up, closing the blinds so the sun won't wake us up, putting on clean pajamas cuz the old ones stink and then into bed.
The worst part is, my house looks like a bomb hit it.
I swear to God on spring break I am going to clean this house like it aint' never been cleaned. I am going to pull every weed (altho I think I am finally going to give into Roundup, don't tell anyone) and sort every paper.
But first I need to sleep in, goof off with Jake, do some field trips, playdates, movies, shopping, art projects..........
because really when it comes down to it, would you rather dust your nasty house or play with your beautiful son? The choice is clear....

Off I go into the rambling part of my brain that once allowed to manifest itself is a dangerous, neverending coil, like a gigantic snake that's been woken from it's warm, sunny rock.
Stop brain, stop. The point of this blog was to stop complaining and start counting blessings. It is the only way to work towards living in the moment, being grateful. and I'm not spouting new age garbage, well maybe I am, but it's the truth.
Today's blessings: I got off work early, got to miss the Friday half an hour before school-ends-melt-down by my charge (please god June when will you be here, everyday I feel guilty for having such disdain for a child with disabilities) OOPS back to blessings: off from work early, hug from my son, Ron got the scooter working and son and neighbor buddy rode it and I've never seen son looked so jazzed, he had his rock and roll fingers in the air, made a nice dinner, son has a sleepover and is occupied, don' thave to wake up early tomorrow , have date night tomorrow with husband and Easter with family, our traditional Easter Egg Hunt at good friends.
Lovely!
I am blessed.
I am tired.
I am purged.
I am rambling.
I am done.

Told You It was Windy Today

Told you it was winday today!


First pic: I grew up right in the middle there.

Pic # 2: Jake holds on as the wind blows him away!

Home

Spent the day in Berkeley today with Jake and my old friend Nadine and her son Conlan. The big boys were playing golf and it was just too beautiful of a day to stay home. As we deciding what fabulous and different activity we would plan for the boys, I thought, let's go up the Campinille tower....I grew up in Berkeley and NEVER went up that elevator.
So we did.
A typical East Bay spring day awaited us...cold and windy but it was worth it for the view.
Berkeley is home...even though Walnut Creek is where I lay my head every night and it's a warm, caring and great place to raise kids, Berkeley is my home.
I love coming home...too tired to write....one last final and I'm more than halfway done with my credential. Hurray! I should be researching and writing, not blogging!
School, work, family OH MY!!!
Just..want...to...lay....down....zzzzzzzzzzzz.....

Hangin' Out

I miss hanging out. Just hanging out back in the good old days when we were old enough to be responsible for ourselves but young enough for not much else. Sitting, listening to music and talking, laughing. And to be honest getting enebriated at times. Ok, most of the time. We'd philosophize about existentialism one minute and the next talk about nothing. A common topic was corporations and how they were the true evil of the world. We criticized their infiltration of our minds via advertising. One night, I lamented about one of the major ads of the moment for Miller Genuine Draft or MGD as the TV had told us to now call it. It irritated me when people would order an MGD.."just order a Miller you zombie who watches too much tv," I woud think. But then, how did we know about all the commercial references if WE didn't watch tv. We all confessed we loved TV but hated ads. "Let's think of another anacronym for MGD." We started getting silly. "More Girls Drunk." "Must Guzzle Drunkenly." Most Godawful Drip." Midgets Gone Dopey." Ok, it was late, we weren't exactly at the top of the wit chain. Then my brother piped in. "My Giant Dick!" The laughter burst out at the same time as if synchronized. We were beside ourselves with laugher and for months all you had to do was say MGD in front of me and I would lose it.

There was a period in my life when I used to think I wasted alot of time hanging out but now....I'm glad I had that time, that delicious time to just sit and be. I think I was more like the Buddah then than I am now, living in the moment so innocently.

Movies and Songs to think about
"In the Street" by Big Star (you've heard it on that 70s show, Cheap Trick's version)
Dazed and Confused, a classic movie about hanging out
"Every Night" by McCartney
Ok, that's enough for now. I have housework and homework to do.

Ramones Raw

Just watched "Ramones Raw" a documentary mostly filmed by Marky Ramone, the drummer who outlived them all. It's almost 30 years, ohmygod, 30 years since I heard my first Ramones record and I have been transfixed ever since. The Ramones never fail to bring the rhythm deep into my bones. Every single frickin time. They were regular assholes just like you and me and made no excuses for this, ever. They sang about the mundane, they sang about reality, oh why can't I find a different word for reality? They pumped out angst, frustration, love, anger, betrayal, political wrongs, social ills and their fondness for vegetables and chicken vindaloo. They toured endlessly, for the fans and frankly cuz they didn't know what else to do. They weren't rockstars, they were rockers.
I think the best part of the doc was seeing them get chased through the streets of Brazil, etc., (it was hard to tell where they were half the time) like the Beatles, fans banging on the windows of their economy van. The Ramones never received their proper props but that's what made them even sweeter. The underdogs of rock and roll who delivered us all from Top 40 dretch and pretentious underground whining. The doc was rough, patchy and consistently raw. Just like the Ramones.
It's surreal to me that they are dead: Johnny (cancer), Joey (cancer) and Dee Dee (drugs). Only Marky and Tommy survive and a couple of other bass players. I can't even be sad, just blank. I saw them for the first time in 1980 I think it was, at the Pauley Ballroom on the UC Berkeley campus. I saw them the last time in 1998 (?) at the Warfield in SF and dozens of times inbetween. In the summer of 1980, I saw Dee Dee drinking at the Mudd Club in NYC and wished I would have said something to him now but I didn't want to be an annoying fan on his night off. I dont' know what I would have said: thanks? you rock? thanks for giving me the soundtrack of my late teens and early twenties? My life? Ack, it all sounds so effing corny. I just love 'em, every beat, thump and strum.
Sad to see you go, go, go, go goodbye.
Time to go blast some Ramones and feel raw......

Shut up and Dance

Jake Dances in Colleen's Big Pants Whilst We Laugh Before Joining Him
I've been reading an acquaintance's blog, religiously. She blogs almost daily and it has been an inspiration to me. Her endless reflection and frankly, worry and whining has pushed me off the deep end into an ephiphany: Shut the f*** up and Dance. I say that to her and myself. Attitude is everything, as difficult as it may be sometimes. Thank God for art: music, movies, galleries online and in the flesh, human conversation, good work, nature and love to turn us away from the dark inner voice. Without it we would just sit around and whine or whinge all day as my Aussie rellies say.
Gotta go, Ron and Jake are playing Devo's "Freedom of Choice" in the living room and I feel a serious case of the pogos coming on.
(TTFN) Taa Taa for Now