Monday, June 28, 2010

flash fiction---tell me what you think--the different fonts disappeared

Confessions of a Scrapbooker

Rehab
I decided purple was a good background cover for my first scrapbook, subtle but royal. My husband is a royal pain in the ass. Yes, this first page is Mark exiting rehab. He looks good doesn’t he? The kids said at Christmas, Dad, it’s not funny anymore, your ruff, ruff, dog act and begging for food. Mom invited her teacher and she doesn’t drink a wink and you have to have three martinis, a bottle of wine and then put calamari rings on your ears and nose and bark like you are some cute dog. I called up an expensive rehab center, agreed to pay for it and Mark went. He looks good doesn’t he? I decided this page would be before and after, oh what am I talking about, a double page layout. Do you think the bottle of Jack Daniels from an ad is appropriate? And I don’t know about the sparkles.

From Bad to worse
I am using a bold funky font—Comic Sans MS. Lily is pregnant. We never expected that. I mean she is old enough but she doesn’t have much of a social life. The news sent Mark back to the bottle. That’s him on the left slumped on the couch watching football, holding his precious a six-pack. He says that beer doesn’t count, that in the old days, like really old, like the Middle Ages, everyone drank beer for every meal because it would protect them from the plague. He’s the plague if you ask me. I decided to go with red for this spread. You know—sex, love, Valentines. Lily takes up most of the layout. Before-- on the left—she had a great shape, that girl, and then after on the right. But wait, some of the before pix make her look awful-- her entire body is bloated. Here she is with the babies, all four. We’re advertising them because Mark says that Lily has a pedigree. Like what it is I don’t know. I put the ribbons, right on the photos-- those cute cocker spaniel, terrier, shepherd, poodle bitches.



Omigod.
Can things get worse? Look, here I am in the classroom as a Teacher’s Aid. I love my job and the kids. Yes, those are cut outs of books and I made them from real felt. Felt was expensive so I decided to make leftover scraps into chair protectors. I pasted them to the bottom of all our kitchen chair legs and Mark said, finally something useful for all that cutting and pasting. Speaking of legs, I really need to buy some tanning product for my legs, but wait, I don't want to get distracted from my theme. Pretty soon I will need an Aid. But really, I mean, who will work with all the problem kids. Oh we don’t call them that anymore, challenged. I mean look at Robert. That’s him sitting next to me. He’s autistic and doesn’t look at anyone. I have to sit next to him and explain it all, like I understand geometry?
And I have to keep away the bullies. See that kid snarling. That’s Theo, the biggest bully in the sixth grade. He snarls at Mark. I decided to go with blue for my background color because I do have the blues and my layout is very random to express my confusion. The kids gave me a going away party and that’s all over my second page. I saved some of the cards and tried to do a collage. I think the page is too messy but it’s the feelings that count: We’ll miss you miss martin, ha, ha.

Graduation!
Everyone is graduating except my kids. I went to the high school graduation anyway, and took some photos of their friends. This page is titled: See you could do it too if you just try and don’t cut classes and do your homework and go to finals like you’re suppose to and if you don’t call Ms. Hall a friggin’ asshole. Yes, I decided to be truthful. Here they are the boys: Mark Jr., Matt with their dad preparing, The I-don’t-give-a-shit-barbecue. Well I do. I went to Wanda’s grad party. Wanda used to go with Mark Jr. and then she got wise. I am noticing that my pages have the bad and good news--maybe that’s my theme. I keep changing the font from layout to layout—I don’t think that’s good scrapbooking style. I decided on white for my backgound color for these pages and Impact font, all in bold. It’s dramatic even if blurry. Wanda looks great, but is she pregnant under those robes? I didn’t want to ask. Her parents are quiet and shy and live in a trailer but they are not trailer trash.

Life is Good
I got a new job in the high school kitchen! I love it and Mark has not been drinking and the boys are getting their GEDs and Mark Jr. and Wanda are getting married and they will live next door to Wanda’s parents and everyone is working and we are going to have the best ever barbecue. I bought some hamburgers, frozen patties at Wal-Mart, the best, really, and I told Mark he could get a keg and we invited everyone we know, the whole goddam neighborhood and things are really looking good. The boys are working on a construction crew, thanks to the money given to Kansas to rebuild roads, and we do have health insurance and I do have hopes although my neighbors are still saying that Obama is a socialist. Then I get really pissed and say, you go join your Tea Party and see where it gets you. They just look at me like I’m some hippie or something but we invited them anyway and the color of these pages will be yellow and I want to use lots of ribbons and sparkles and call it Celebration and use some happy font like monotype corsiva because it is so classy oh man life is good.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

a revision from Jean McAvoy from our last session

I wish others would post too!

Summer Jean Valla McAvoy 6/26/10

Summer is here. Even now, as a responsible adult, yoked to a job, I can still feel a hint of the freedom and excitement I felt when school was over and all kinds of summer pleasures lay ahead. And they were many: a trip to Playland in Rye to celebrate that we’d all passed to the next grade; neighborhood hunts for black caps or thimbleberries, which we shared out exactly, sometimes even splitting the little berries in two, which gave us purple fingers and a sense of justice served; later raids on Nonna’s raspberry patch, when the thimbleberries were gone by; the Bassi family reunion, full of cousins and torta and bocce and wine and the men singing old Italian songs in solid harmony (some songs they would translate for me and for others…they’d just smile and say little girls didn’t need to know those songs); trips to Saxon Woods, where you’d get a locker key on a stretchy loop to attach to your bathing suit strap before heading out to the pool to pretend you were a Weeki Watchee mermaid until your lips turned blue and your mother made you get out; catching fireflies in the night (one time we used a beer bottle to hold them and watched fascinated as they staggered around drunk when we released them); early morning trips to Jones Beach to beat the traffic, when we’d arrive to a parking lot full of gulls and leave in the heat of the day, weaving our way over the hot sand and pavement through throngs of people and cars).

But one of the most exciting things we did each summer was quite simple and always unexpected. Suddenly, on a particularly hot, sticky night, my mother would announce
“We’re having waffles and ice cream for dinner tonight.”
And we did. She would mix up some batter, heat up her waffle iron and cook them up. The first batch always stuck and then the iron was good to go. The last batch was always a bit skimpy and didn’t fill out the form. But they were all delicious. We’d go outside to eat them with ice cream on top. And that was dinner. Even though there were many hot, sticky nights it would happen once a summer and you never knew when that would be, so it always came as a surprise. I’d feel a bit giddy, like the world had tilted on its axis, and a bit reckless, like the supper police might come and arrest us.

Let me put this in context. In my world, Nonna Paulina ruled the kitchen, and her meals anchored our family with substance and regularity. She would start to cook in early afternoon and dinner would be on the kitchen table at 6 o’clock, without fail. Northern Italian peasant food, with some American standbys mixed in. Slow food. It was wonderful, truly wonderful, and a touchstone of my life, but that’s another story.

Somehow, those times we broke the rules stand out and mean the wonderful freedom of summer to me. When my mother pulled out her waffle iron, you felt like anything might happen.

On stress--from my Kripalu visit

Dr. Susan Lord on Stress—Kripalu 2010

Mindfulness is the tool, not willpower. Awareness changes reality.

What are the thoughts you have that make you unhappy—Look at what you think and feel

Buddhists say—two kinds of suffering:
1.Things happen—suffer
2. How you think about things that are happening—what are the meaning we make of things. –The meaning of things equals stress.

He or she who adopts well to an insane society cannot be well

What to do:
· Cut out what doesn’t serve you, even people. Some people are toxic. Who are the energy vampires—either eliminate or find some other ways of dealing with them, talking to them. Have good boundaries
· More nervous cells are in our guts than in our heads
· If you are under stress, you are in flight or freeze state. This can lead to chronic physical problems. The immune system is on alert!

Mindfulness: this all works with biochemistry and the brain changes
1. Aware—notice what is bothering you
2. Express it! Talk to friends, dance, shake your body, keep a journal—Exercise—no matter what it is… When the lion chases the gazelle and the gazelle gets away it shakes!
3. Be in the present—not in the past or future. Accept the present. It doesn’t mean that you can’t plan, but be in the moment. If you are too future oriented than you can’t relax.
4. Patterns—what are the thoughts you have that make you unhappy—just notice what you are thinking and feeling
5. Suspend judgments

With the energy vampires. How can we make this relationship into something else? What is your part in it? You are doing a dance with them. Be honest and kind, even about boundaries and your needs. Keep on examining and noticing where you are on this spectrum of being in the present and relaxed with the opposite end--- flight or freezing. Just notice. We can only make shifts. Change is not going to happen over night

Friday, June 25, 2010

Image explosion

We used this wonderful poem last week to insert our own writings as a conversation with the poem, with mary Oliver and with each other. I invite you to post your writings in the comments, also including the line that you chose.

Mockingbirds

This morning
two mockingbirds
in the green field
were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons
of their songs
into the air.
I had nothing

better to do
than listen.
I mean this
seriously.

In Greece,
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door

to two strangers
who were,
it soon appeared,
not men at all,

but gods.
It is my favorite story--
how the old couple
had almost nothing to give

but their willingness
to be attentive--
but for this alone
the gods loved them

and blessed them--
when they rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water

from a fountain,
the light
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,

and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
bowed down--
but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled, as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning--
whatever it was I said

I would be doing--
I was standing
at the edge of the field--
I was hurrying

through my own soul,
opening its dark doors--
I was leaning out;
I was listening.

Copyright © 1994 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; February 1994; Mockingbirds; Volume 273, No. 2; page 80. Online Source

Thursday, June 17, 2010

news and blues

In ten parts
1. great solstice workshop this Monday at 6:45 at the lofts--good group have already said yes!
2: Free poetry workshop at Donna's studio, next Sunday, the 28th, right after her 10:30 class and it's free
3. Loved the cleanse at Mudita and still doing the anti-inflammatory diet; no sugar, dairy, red meat and alchohol--I will indulge in really good wine or proseco or campari but limited.
4. My neck pain is not a herniated disc but only arthritis
5. Subscribing to the yoga insight newsletter--some good stuff: am chanting more
6.Kripalu next week with a friend--taking it slow and light. Yoga light, Yoga Zero.
7. My own writing--oh dear, does this count.
8.please don't lurk, write something, say something, maybe in ten parts
9. Sending ten parts of love---
10. Namaste

Friday, June 11, 2010

June 21--The Solstice

I can't wait to see many of you on the solstice which is a week from this Monday and then I am off to Kripalu for a couple of days. I need the R and R and steady yoga but even more to develop moving from my heart and fine tuning my intution. Sometimes I wish I had a GPS for my internal guide.

Lately the body has been ruling--first the hairline fracture in the foot and wearing Das Boot and now the reoccurrence of neck pain and today's MRI. I might have a herniated disc. I want to pay attention but not pay attention.

Also, I am looking for some strong writings about Iraq and Afghanistan for the anthology at Simon's Rock and maybe some eyestopping, stomping poetry by women. Any suggestions?