http://www.clothpaperscissors.com/

Cloth Paper Scissors

http://www.clothpaperscissors.com/

My friend and mid life muse, Carol, gifted me with a subscription to this wonderful magazine. I received my first issue the other day. What a great resource to have. The website also offers some great ideas and fun things to create. There are updates almost everyday!

Cast Call

http://listentoyourmotheraustin.blogspot.com/2011/03/announcing-our-austin-cast.html

I don't know much about blogging. But I know what I like and above is the casting call for the Austin Listen to your Mother blogging/writing/story project. I am so excited to have been selected to be one of the 15 women. After looking at the blogs of the others in the cast, I'm pretty sure I'm among the oldest and really sure that I'm the least prolific on my blog site. These women have these great full, rich sites with 8 X 10 glossy's, information about family friendly activities in Austin, recipes, great places to eat and clever stories about being young moms in Austin, today.

I'm not even linked to my blog site on the casting call page. I could correct that but, wow. I have, I think, six entries over a two year period and I'm just now experimenting with posting pictures on my page! I kind of find this amusing because I feel that I am, compared to others in my generation, somewhat an accomplished blogger. This just makes me laugh. My friends generally, don't blog, and probably don't read many blogs. Many are involved with FaceBook but not even my most tech savvy friends, which laughably includes me, Tweet.

But huzzah, the LTYM Austin team chose me to be in the production which happens on April 30, 2011 and I couldn't be more thrilled.

Inspire Me

I admire my students. My students are an inspiration to ME. I admire T. who, at ten years of age and in spite of tremendous obstacles to reading and focusing, will sit for hours reading and re-reading his assignments, doing and re-doing his homework and classwork until he gets it right. I admire his patience and resilience in the face of teachers who don't "get" his learning differences, who routinely pass out long, tedious work packets which take him twice the time to complete than his peers, even though he has completely and competently mastered the skill that is being taught. My heart aches for him when he stays in from recess to make sure he has all of his work done. He is conscientious. He stays motivated, asking his mom if he can be in honors classes for math next year when he goes to Junior High. And, by the grace of God, he always aces the state adopted test!

I admire H., age 9, who comes to school but would much rather be ranching, riding, hunting and barbecuing: living the outdoor life that he loves; the one he is really good at and was born to do. In spite of the fact that he labors to read so slowly that he couldn't possibly comprehend a word of it and you think he is going to wiggle out of his seat on to the floor or drape himself over the table when you try to teach him phonics, he consistently and seemingly miraculously, makes A's and passes his tests. How does he do that? He also, always has a grand smile to offer when I see him, except in the morning, coming to school. He's not a morning person.

B., who repeated kindergarten and couldn't read much throughout first grade, read every book in the primary/intermediate school library before he completed his last year there.

My descriptions could go on for longer than I have the patience to type them out. I am so honored to have so many students on my "Most Admirable People" list. I've been lucky to watch them grow. I'm happy to have been their teacher.

Audition

Today I went for an audition. I entered my post to a project called "Listen to your Mother."

http://www.listentoyourmothershow.com/

I'll be WALKING tomorrow.

Letters of Life

It has been over a year since my last post on Three Women Walking. How does this happen? Where did the year even go? I only thought about it because one of the walking women made a comment that I needed to post something new. I don't even remember how to tell them to log on and post something. I like my last post though. So in spite of the missing year, I will continue on and try to do better this time.

Tomorrow is my anniversary date. It will be 31 years. A lifetime ago I did that. I was getting ready for a wedding thirty one years ago tonight. So much has happened. So much. A lifetime of events, memories, joys, sorrows, dreams, achievements, failures, deaths, births. Twenty years ago, my mother gave me some letters that she had written to her parents, between the years 1951 and1954. The last one was written about the upcoming events of my first Christmas. I finally put the letters in order. In the process, I did read some of them. The word I use for how I felt reading them is "nostalgic" although that word doesn't capture the depth of feeling that these letters convey for me. I told my daughter that I could get lost in reading them and she said, "Don't." So I didn't.

But in time, I will read them, each one. The hopes, dreams, joys, sorrows of a young woman's daily life, a lifetime ago are on plain, white paper, hand written with pencil in neat, cursive script. My daughter said she didn't even think she could read that kind of handwriting. Who writes in cursive anymore? Who writes 4 and 5 page letters in Todayworld?

Those letters have valuable treasures in them. The treasures of the building of post World War II America are hidden between those lines; treasures of a man who was a war hero and a woman who dreamed of a better life, making that life together. Those two were moving across the country from a small Texas farm town to a new suburb in mid-state New York, planning their first home, dreaming of the future, loving each other, mourning the loss of a baby girl who was carried full term and died never having taken a breath in this world. Then that man and woman, my parents, had the courage to do a brave thing again; the courage to take another chance and go through a pregnancy once more, to experience the hopes and excitement, one more time, along with the terrifying thoughts that what happened before might happen again.

The last letter was written December 9, 1954, after my birth which was in July. While I was napping in my crib, my mother was telling her parents about the excitement in the air with the upcoming Christmas season. She had bought me some toys, acknowledging that I wouldn't know the difference but she was excited, nonetheless. She was hoping to get a good picture, for her parents, of me on Santa's lap, describing in detail, the dress I would wear for the shot. And a lifetime ago the circle began again.

Journaling...

Writing is a habit. Writing takes time and dedication. Writing daily is a commitment one makes to oneself.

At this moment, I am thinking about; 1. Going to the farmer's market in town, 2. going to listen to live music in another town.

The day is gray and I am unmotivated. Gray days aren't my favorite. I like rainy days. But not gray ones.
I met my once at a local restaurant last night. It was planned. He asked, in an email, if we could meet. I had written, "Let me know if I can help with the taxes." He wrote back, "It would really help me, I think, if I could see you." When I walked in the place, the first person I saw was my therapist. Awkward. I can't express what I thought about at that moment. I questioned the sanity of my decision to do this. I wondered how I could explain and what she would be thinking about until we met on Monday. Then I accepted that there was nothing I could do or say so I would let whatever happened happen. But it turned out fine. She came up to order something while we were standing there. I introduced him to her and said that I wasn't sure why we were here but that she and I would have something to talk about on Monday at our scheduled meeting. Funny.

When we sat down, the conversation was pleasant. The kids, the dogs, current events, etc. Then he asked if I liked my new place. Then he talked about that he was thinking about what his next move was. He said he couldn't stay in the big house. I told him what I thought would be a good idea for housing for him. I began to get sad, thinking about broken dreams and broken hearts. I teared up several times talking about missing all the people in my life who I lost, just last year. He talked about taking a legal action about our separation. That he felt like that would be the way for him to move forward. No one said the "D" word. He asked if I knew how to transfer the kid's student loans from my name to his name. I mentioned how I didn't want to leave him without health insurance. Of course, nothing was resolved. But it was progress. Progress toward what?
We talked to an old acquaintance who has a ranch in the desert, near a big river about six hours drive from here. He offered his house anytime. He said it didn't just belong to him. It belongs to everyone. He isn't there all the time. He offered it as a respite; a creative, meditative retreat. This offer, this generosity, I am so tempted. I want the three ladies walking to take a road trip. A long road trip. To the desert in the spring.

Pretty Funny

I reread my post about red flags and laughed and laughed!! Seriously, never let red flags get the better of me? Oh well, I like a good laugh so I won't delete it. Today I took a long walk. Just one woman walking this day.I didn't ask Annie and Trina today. It was a beautiful morning here. I ended up at the river. It has been raining so everything looked fresh and green. I love that about living. But I am always missing someone. I don't much like that.
I am always missing several someones.

I have a story about a woman. This woman lived a good, long life. She had children and grandchildren and even great grandchildren. She always treated them well. She loved them and she loved mostly everyone. This woman taught me so many things like: "Never say good-bye, only say, 'See ya later.' " And "Don't let your hair go gray too early. You have so many years you have to be gray. Keep your color as long as you can." (And the best one, the hardest for me to embrace) "Kill 'em with kindness, kid, kill 'em with kindness." She loved her a garden. She did. She loved flowers. She was a good wife to a difficult husband, but she loved him. She was generous most of her life, sometimes to a fault. A person can be too generous.
Anyway, she lived in a place where it didn't even rain for a long, dry time. It was dry and very hot and every living thing was suffering. The flowers suffered and she hated that. The trees, grass and animals all suffered everyday because they all needed a long drink of cool water. The woman was already old when this dry, hot time was happening. She had lived such a long time and she was tired. Her heart hurt from living such a long time and now it was dry and hot and all her flowers were dying. So she was ready to go from this lovely world to another lovely place and she did it. Her heart stopped one day. But while she was on her way to another lovely place she did some magic. Some magic happened when she was going on her way. I have to believe that the woman made rain happen. She made it come down. The gentle rain came down exactly at the time she was on her way. I know she is the one who did it.
This magic woman was my once mother-in-law who was mostly good to me. She passed last Friday, September 4, 2009. Her beauty, wisdom, kindness and generosity live on. I will miss her a little everyday.

Red Flags

When I reflect on the 28 years of my marriage, I can see all the red flags flapping right in my face. But in the beginning it seemed like I could overlook, or change all those pesky, red annoying cloths and hope that maybe they would eventually go away. But go away they did not. Perhaps their waving ebbed and the red faded for long periods of time. But they never went away completely and finally they were just too exasperating for me to keep batting at them. I swear that red flags will never get the better of me, again. Posted by Estrella