The Ravine

My annual Halloween tradition doesn't involve pumpkins or cookies or costumes. But it DOES involve complete darkness, kids sitting on the floor, and a spooky audiorecording of Ray Bradbury's "The Ravine" taken out of my favorite book of his Dandelion Wine. This year I went in search of THE darkest room in the school which I found underneath the auditorium, just right of the boiler room, down a long dark cement passage with a few unexpected steps, past two foot thick doors, and be sure to duck your head because the pipes are low-hanging AND keep on the lookout for spiders who have NEVER seen the light of day!!! On the board where I write the day's agenda and learning outcomes, I wrote merely: ?????
You can imagine this if you try. We've all been there--wanting to be scared, begging for it, not wanting to lose face with our peers, so we settle into our terror and just wait it out. When we got into the room, we turned off the lights. Complete pitch blackness. I threatened them all with "project abortion" if heart-stopping silence wasn't maintained. Three minutes into the audio someone alerted me to the emotional state of a boy up against the wall. On come the lights and the invitation to go back to the classroom. Five kids clung to each other and made their way back down the cement alley and back to the real world and their reading books. I said a silent prayer to the patron saint who protects teachers against lawsuits and cowboyed on. It was ever so spine-tingling and fun. I repeated this with over 60 students. Multiply that by 10 years or so and we're talking some serious Halloween anxiety. Mwaaaaahhhh...

All the Pirates I've Ever Met Have Been Named Cynthia

I struck pay dirt on a flight home from Tulsa last week. You can imagine my delight when my seatmate in the pink tanktop turned out to be a charming, talkative, very open, living, breathing, walking, talking...(wait for it).....PIRATE! Of course she didn't divulge this information immediately. She veiled her true identity behind her day job (Oregon state investigator for Medicaid fraud--OH MY GOODNESS! The tales!! Stings in Texas! Stings in a vet office!), her marriage story (Rick was four seats up. Large gorilla of a guy she met in Home Depot where he was most helpful AS SHE REBUILT A HOME BY HERSELF!), her overseas (Macedonia, Slovenia, Bulgaria) exploits involving humanitarian work where her marriage ultimately caved, and the woes of a beloved stepchild turning away from her. Cynthia poured out her heart over the death of her marriage. I detected another woman in the story. We both teared up. Probably somewhere over Denver the conversation turned to life on their sailboat/home in Portland, plans to sail the world, and then she ever so casually mentioned that Rick and she belonged to the Portland Pirate Association...AARGH!! That's where the conversation veered sharply. I was immediately transported into THAT world! AHOY OH BOY!!! Treasure hunts, swashbuckling, "hangings" from trees, large bonfires, gangplanks, bustiers, eye patches (I could picture Rick as a very LARGE imposing pirate!), and a sort of comradery with other pirates that might resemble much the same one I have with my knitters. I received a personal invitation to "Come up!" which I shall entertain most seriously and perhaps combine with the ukulele festival I'm investigating. So we landed, we hugged, I was introduced to Rick, she handed me a cool business card with a picture of their sailboat home on it, and I mozied back home. Bending minds didn't seem all that exciting, after all. Life in my classroom oftentimes resembles a mutiny, I DO swashbuckle on occasion, my students are probably only a few steps removed from true barbarism, and I DO have a sword that drips fake blood in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet which we use as a prop when the need arises. I most likely will never sail around the world, nor will I don a bustier. I'll probably retire as a dowdy English teacher (minus the bun). Ho hum...how do I stand myself?

Going Back to the Start

Easing back into the blogosphere. Can you hear me stretching my fingers and cracking my knuckles? You haven't missed much by not being able to peer into the "underwear drawer" of my life via a blog. Just the usual--fly slaughterhouse time of year here,but I promise to keep that dialogue to a minimum except for this just in tonight!!! As I left to go to my neighbors I was horrified at the vast array of dead maniacs on the garage floor BECAUSE I HAD BOMBED AND VACCED just yesterday for likkety heck's sake!!! When I returned, a cat ran out of the garage, and would you believe that the flies were gone???? Insert Rod Steiger music. I also cruised down a semi muddy river in Utah, so I need to post about that! And I've taken up the ukulele! In bed!! Oh and I need to post about my crazy wacky students juggling with the beanbags I sewed for them--35 sets!!! We'd best get this ol' blog cranked back up.

In Counting

How many days before whatever has been scratching scratching gives up the ghost???? It's been well over two weeks. Last year Paco had to extract a bird from our dryer vent. I have blocked out the status of that bird when he took it out. This intruder just keeps scratching scratching.

Mugsy is at large. I hope he comes home. He got spooked off by a storm this afternoon. Oh, how I hope he comes home...

Yesterday I helped my 92 year old aunt sift through some clothes in her closet in the name of de-junking. She held up a beautiful white blouse, commented that she'd just washed it, and then concluded by saying we could bury her in it!! Bury???? Who said anything about dying???? Am I the only one there who isn't designating burial clothes??????

Scratching scratching...Tonight it feels kind of like it's under my feet a ways down. Could that be?

Not Asleep

Looking for my happy place. Thinking I might find it where it has lurked before. Finding kind of a dark place. Hoping the light starts seeping in. Feeling crinkly. Looking for my happy place.

Wondering if all my turns have been used up. Pondering deficits. Entertaining thoughts of bad karma. Gaping at holes and holes and holes. Squeezing the dark out of my brain. Wondering if all my turns have been used up.

Counting days and nights and days. Calculating steps and turns and bends. Reaching up. Estimating distances. Turning around and around and around. Counting days and nights and days.

Following my feet. Squaring my shoulders and following my feet. Waiting for the music to start. Tapping my toes. Turning towards the phonograph. Following my feet.

Horror of Horrors

I heard a scratching scratching coming from the stove today. Not making this up--Mugsy heard it too!!! A few days ago I came down to breakfast, and a white mouse was lying dead in front of the stove. When I returned from the other world to which I had immediately fled (the ultimate HAPPY PLACE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!) I knew that I had no choice but to sweep it into a dustpan (I did the whole thing with my eyes shut) like the big big girl that I try to be...sometimes, for the most part--oh, I'm so NOT a big girl when it comes to mice. But just WHO was I going to call? Not even a cat around. But today's matter!!!!!!! What to do?????????? Part of me wants to set fire to the entire house and never look back! What scratches?? What can get into an oven? Can it get out unaided??? I WILL NEVER AGAIN OPEN THE OVEN DOOR!! We will have to liquify all food that needs baking from here on out and insert it into the oven with a hypodermic! I guess I just really feel the need to go public with this matter today because should you not hear from me, please come and investigate. And be prepared to find conditions indescribable perhaps. I'm just saying--Mugsy may survive a direct encounter, but Madhadder will not. That's all.

Staycation

I've had such an enjoyable time puttering around during the time I've been home this summer, that I've decided to foredeclare next summer officially as my Staycation! If you want to come and visit, I will greet you with open arms! If what you have planned for the day sounds fun, I might come along (if invited). Brrrrrrr Lake has textbook perfect summers. I'm not just saying that--it's a well-documented fact. Never gets too hot. You can stay outside ALL day long if you keep hydrated! The night cools off perfectly. Temperatures descend sufficiently in the middle of the night that you can just pull a quilt up and whoever complained about the feel of a quilt around them????!!!! Not me! I made a mental list of staycation ideas: garden, weed, water, mow, plant, read books, sew, knit, scrapbook a little, hike in the mountains, take the e-car into town for a taco, borrow horses to ride, daytrips to the Tetons, build a treehouse, refurbish the playhouse, spin alpaca wool, make mudpies, swing on a tree rope, collect rocks, swim at the lake, go to Raspberry Days, jump on the trampoline, run through the sprinklers, sell lemonade, open a table at the farmer's market, watch entire full seasons of Lost, The Office, Gilmore Girls, Cagney & Lacey, and grill something different every day! If any of this sets your Jell-o, come on out! I know none of this has anything to do with the Marx brothers, but aren't they pure delight!!???