I've been everywhere, man.

I've been to Moab, and Ouray, and Salt Lake.

I've seen arches and bridges and pictoglyphs.

I've been to Gooseneck Park and Canyon de Chelly.

I've seen red rocks and buttes and mesas.I've been in the Navaho Nation, Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico.
I've seen the Mormon Tabernacle, the Million Dollar Highway, and the Telluride gondola.

I'm telling you. I've been everywhere, man.

(Photos courtesy of Odis and the smiley blue memory stick)

Gone to see the desert

Dear Otis,

Indeed! I am packing. I have 2 ounce tubes of toothpaste and hair spray and shampoo. 

I bought cute new tops like this:

And, because I'm going to a conference after the desert, cute new sandals too:

I'm ready! Husband is ready. 

Now all we have to do is wait for Saturday!!

XO, XO,

Anne

Get me out of this!

I have had several instances of desiring to be released from this job. I was too dismissive of these desires to pay them any attention. I felt that they were selfish and cowardly. 

I allowed the fantasy to play through this morning and felt the absolute joy of being released from all of this responsibility. 

I went and took a shower. I realized that I am martyring myself again, but for whom this time? 

For the community I realized. 

I must suffer and prove that I am worthy enough for you. 

It is from this belief that I need release, not this job.

I am worthy enough for you. I am a good employee. I am a good person to have around in a crisis. I am loving. I am kind. I am generous. I can set and hold limits for out of control children. I can love children into their own adulthood. I have opinions. I have research to do and papers to write. I have classes and lessons and practical tips to teach. 

I am worthy, and this belief that I have, the one that says that the hoops I need to jump through to keep this job are about proving that I'm worthy, it's bullshit. 

These aren't hoops. These are job requirements. Publish so that people know who you are, so that people want to come study with you, so that people will come study with you, so that we can keep the doors open, so that you can get paid. Job requirements. No more, no less. 

I need to stop suffering and get to work.

For the birds

I've spent the morning in an amazingly wonderful way. 

I got up and took care of a document that needs to get out in the mail today.

I read a novel for a chapter or two. 

I took a shower.

I played on Wii Fit for 15 minutes.

I sat down and listening to a program of classical music called Sublime II while drawing the experience the music brought forward in me. 

Now, I sit listening to the last piece of music on this program repeatedly, Kedrov's Our Father, while watching out the back window and occasionally glancing at the second mandala to come out of the this morning's listening.

So far I've seen the cardinal pair, the orioles fly in and out twice, feeding their young, the robins, and the finches. 

The Kedrov repeats endlessly and finally I am in touch again with the core of myself. That most vulnerable place which I guard jealously and meanly when I feel it is at risk. That place which is so tender that the slightest touch, without extreme care, would bruise it deeply. 

Thank-God. 

I was worried I'd never be here again, and cut off from this I begin to loose empathy, my faith in the world, and love.  In other words, all those things that make life worth living. 

Wish, wish, wish

...I had done a better job of sitting on my arse and kicking out class plans yesterday, but the call to be up and moving and in my body, rather than in my head, was strong.

So I sat for 10 minutes, and moved boxes or trash or, or, or, for an hour. Then, I'd sit for 15 and be back up again. 

Today I have sore muscles everywhere. It's kind of wonderful.

Hopefully, feeling those muscles will be enough to help me feel my body while I sit still and get at this work!

Here I am again.

I am reminded of the years of dissertation data analysis and write up as I sit here, all comfy on the couch, this morning. 

I've woken up nicely and slowly by spending the first hour and a half of the morning hauling boxes from then 2nd floor up to the 3rd floor. This is so that when the wall board guys make it up from the 1st floor, they'll have carte blanche with the room. 

I'm surrounded by the materials I need to get on with today's academic project (two text books, syllabus writing guidelines, the profession's competencies, the computer, my notes from yesterday's reading). 

I'm content and ready to delve into the curious puzzle of trying to convey information and concepts to people 20 years younger than myself. 

In other words, here I am, in one of my favorite places again. Alone, with fascinating things to read and think about. 

It's such a good place, I just want to savor it for a minute. 

A Reflection

I've been trying to understand what it is about blogging over the last 48 hours that has helped me regain my status as a functioning, living human-being.

One, it is cathartic. All this information, that I knew I was working on, but didn't realize I was storing someplace inside of me, is now OUT. OUT. OUT. The kitchen, the cabinets, the handles, the bathroom floor, the... the... the... Just having the major blocks of it OUT of me is a relief! It's coming to life in the house actually, but somehow seeing that doesn't do it. It is the process of coming to the decisions that needs to be released into print (Funny idea, this, I usually think of capturing things in print, rather than the opposite).

Which brings me to two, I can come to this blog and SEE the process and progress reflected back at me. For some reason, I become so enmeshed in my projects as to feel myself becoming them. The process of feeling MYSELF again requires separation. If I can SEE the project, then I can separate myself from it. I am no longer the decision making process; the process becomes something that I have experienced or am experiencing. It, however, is NOT me. 

Well, whatever with all the psychobabble.

I feel like a river newly free of its dam, and it is wonderful.

Working

Lord have mercy, I am back to work.

My brain is functioning. I am not resentful, angry, or frustrated. 

I am curious, in-learning-mode, and kicking some serious class planning ass. 

I am taking breaks every 45 minutes or so to hoist belongings from the 2nd to the 3rd floor of the house. The wall-board guys are working their way up the stairs to the 2nd floor as I speak.

It may just be okay. I seem to be rising out of my funk.

Home Alone

Husband is back in town-previous-to-this-one and I am home alone until the wallboard guys show up. 

I'm actually feeling somewhat functional this morning. I think I may be able to tackle that syllabus I've been avoiding for the last 7 days. 

Avoiding? Yes. 

My brain is mush. It's capacity for problem solving, juggling multiple perspectives, and creating a forward moving plan related to any of the several projects I have hanging over my head is limited at best.

But, this morning, I'm thinking I can take baby-steps and at least read the chapter on assessment that I want the students to read, and, if that leads to thinking about how I'll teach the material and create assignments related to it, so much the better. 

It's quiet here. I don't feel pulled in several directions. I don't feel guilty that I'm not helping work on the house. Drywall guy just called to say he's on his way. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Mar-ble-ous

As the kitchen is planned, and even the door handles are picked, we've moved on to thinking more about the bathroom. 

We've already chosen a 60" vanity in quartersawn oak with a toffee colored stain. It's the Amesbury door by Conestoga here (but that's not quartersawn oak mind you, and I ordered the drawer fronts to be slabs, I don't like insets in drawers for some reason, beats me.): 

We'll have a Glacier White Corian lined 5' shower stall. Yawn; bor-ing. But Hubby gets the stuff cheap at a local outlet place. 

We're thinking about asking a stain glass hobbiest we know to do some light fixture shades in the arts & crafts style. Maybe something like that photo below...

So, heck we've got this arts & crafts thing going. What about flooring? Hmmm...

First: wood, tile, linoleum? Then, which wood. Then, no, not wood, it's not water proof enough. Then, okay tile. Tile made of what? Granite? Ceramic? Marble? Well, sure. Why not. Could be. 

Let's look.

...and so we looked, and then our favorite, very striking, like, let's make a STATEMENT tile, cost $15 a square foot. Fine you say, what's the problem?

The problem is that after 8 years of jamming my hip into the bathroom vanity while sharing the facilities with Husband because there isn't room for two to dry their hair, comb their hair and otherwise primp in the morning, I insisted on some major square footage in Bathroom of New House. Approximately, 80 square feet to be exact. 

Gulp. 80x15=way too much money for Fantastic, Striking, Make  a STATEMENT tile.

Well fine. We can't have THE tile, but couldn't we get a cheaper marble. Less striking, but really, just as beautiful. 

Yes, but where would somebody be selling marble tile cheap? I mean DIRT cheap, like REALLY super cheap?

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!" And the lightbulb goes on! 

Where else but Craig's list?

Sure enough. Ninety-nine glorious sq/ft of tile at $2 a sq/ft later, I give you Botticino beige: 

And now, Botticino beige against quartersawn oak slab vanity door:

So, lots of neutral so far, but give us a chance, we're not done yet.  

Did I mention I have papers and proposals to write? Nine projects in nine weeks? Snort.