tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37407055236668128772024-03-13T20:56:04.114-07:00More Than I Should Beara blog about learningAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-46493339590826194712013-12-28T23:00:00.000-08:002013-12-28T23:00:46.814-08:002013 Come and GoneAnother entire year passed with only two blog posts. I wonder if I should even continue to have this blog when it obviously gets neglected. The busyness of my work and my family certainly contributes to the infrequency of posting, but I also wonder if there is still purpose here. <br />
<br />
Upon returning tonight, I see there is. If for no one else but myself. I read posts from years ago and marvel that so little has changed or, the very opposite, I read and question, was that really me? And something tells me that whenever we are brave enough to share our story, the world is better for it.<br />
<br />
So, as 2013 comes to a close, I have been searching for my new One Little Word. Over the past few years I have selected discover, reach, and courage. Each of those words came to play a significant role in my thinking and feeling for that year, so I wanted to be careful and sincere as I chose the OLW for 2014. I have decided on <i><b>cultivate</b></i> and I cannot tell you how thrilled I am about it. Already it has given me a fresh perspective and made me take some bold steps in new directions. <br />
<br />
I love that cultivate combines the optimism of creation with the reality of discipline. To cultivate requires a plan, a vision for what could be. It also requires work, the action to move that vision from dream to reality. There is an earthiness to the word as it connotes nature, gardening, farming, growing something of use and beauty. And there is also a sense of industry, tools and science being utilized to achieve the best results.<br />
<br />
It is also the opposite of neglect.<br />
<br />
As I take on this word, I am eager to decide exactly what I want to cultivate in my life, what it will take to make that happen and what it will produce in my life and the lives of others.<br />
<br />
Anyone else choosing a One Little Word this year?<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-20643172567621976792013-07-19T08:37:00.001-07:002013-07-19T16:17:22.346-07:00Common CoreI watched this YouTube video<div>all about math and how it weaves</div><div>its way into every inch of our lives.</div><div>Each moment, turn of a wheel,</div><div>turn of a combination </div><div>lock, turn of a head</div><div>has a mathematical equation attached, some x to solve for, </div><div>some function.</div><div><br></div><div>And my first thought</div><div>was whether or not</div><div>math could capture the speed</div><div>of my veins or the temperature </div><div>of my blush as I think about you.</div><div>Could it quantify the cloudiness </div><div>that blurs my logic and leaves</div><div>my tongue numb, twisted into quiet?</div><div><br></div><div>Could math find a way to make</div><div>You next to Me,</div><div>like 1 is next to 2?</div><div>Adam and Eve.</div><div>In the beginning. Maybe</div><div>math can make life whole again,</div><div>could find a way to fill</div><div>the gaps of too many days</div><div>between hello </div><div>and too many reasons not to be</div><div>1 and 2.</div><div><br></div><div>Maybe it's just math that </div><div>keeps us from adding up, </div><div>a theorem of what cannot be.</div><div><br></div><div>But even numbers can be imaginary </div><div>and still they find their way to the paper,</div><div>find their way to be real, to be seen.</div><div><br></div><div>That's not us. We are real,</div><div>but no one can see</div><div>and we can't say</div><div>and words and numbers fail.</div><div><br></div><div>But the math of you and me,</div><div>of 1 and 2,</div><div>takes me back to the start,</div><div>counting minutes til</div><div>we equal something </div><div>more than the sum</div><div>of our parts.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-57130333376208747772013-01-12T09:24:00.002-08:002013-01-13T07:33:18.869-08:00Courage2013 is going to be my year. I can feel it. In my heart, in my breathing, in everything I do, I know this is it. I have been building toward this year my entire life. Of course, that's true for every year, right? every moment? Each one is the result of all that came before it. Maybe now I am just incredibly aware of that. And it is terrifying.<br />
<br />
So, my <a href="http://aliedwards.com/2012/12/one-little-word-2013.html" target="_blank">One Little Word</a> for 2013 is courage.<br />
<br />
Courage reminds me of <i>The Wizard of Oz. </i>The Cowardly Lion seeking courage was always the character who resonated with me. I had brains, I had heart, and I had home, but courage?? It has eluded me. And the Lion is me. I am not a believer in astrology, but for some reason, my Leo sign always felt like a perfect fit. I always thought it was the lion's mane, since I have a somewhat unhealthy obsession with my hair. But I think it is also that the lion is the King. My name actually means, "crowned one." I want to be a leader, I want to be the one in charge. I want others to be safe and strong in my care. But deep inside, I am a coward.<br />
<br />
I fear consequences. I fear losing. I fear hurting people I love and even more, I fear being disliked because I have hurt them. I fear making mistakes and giving someone ammunition to tear me down and expose me for the fraud I am. For all my big talk, I feel any bravery others might see in me is a facade.<br />
<br />
But no more. This year, the fear will be quieted and the courage will guide me. I know the Wizard can't give it to me, but just like the Cowardly Lion, I will find it in my relationships with the people I love, the people who inspire me and probably, the people who oppose me. My courage will come from my conscious daily choice to live my life informed by wisdom and hope rather than fear and inauthenticity.<br />
<br />
In 2013, I am going to live with the courage it takes to be exactly who I am.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-15914720311472929372012-07-14T10:02:00.001-07:002012-07-14T10:02:36.325-07:00ShapeshiftingLots going on lately; sometimes too much for words to contain. But I do have a poem to share. Hope you all are well.<br />
<br />
Shapeshifting<br />
<br />
My sons pretend they are<br />
shapeshifters, bodies morphing<br />
for purposes of good or evil.<br />
Boy becomes dragon becomes<br />
bird of prey -- fire-breathing<br />
becomes feathered danger.<br />
<br />
And I wonder<br />
what shape I would choose,<br />
how my heart might grow<br />
stronger, my arms to wings.<br />
<br />
And I wonder<br />
what shape might move me<br />
closer to being yours.<br />
<br />
But make-believe only<br />
makes my featherless arms<br />
more heavy and my heart<br />
weaker by its wanting.<br />
<br />
And the fire burns my insides,<br />
because I cannot breathe<br />
a word of this.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-57328851955645729992012-04-17T11:33:00.000-07:002012-04-18T14:53:20.559-07:00Some Poems to ShareSo, I fell off the <a href="http://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/challenges/" target="_blank">Slice of Life</a> Train, and thought I would get back into gear with <a href="http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/41" target="_blank">National Poetry Month</a>. Last year, I completed the Slice of Life Challenge in March AND <a href="http://www.napowrimo.net/" target="_blank">NaPoWriMo</a> in April. Consistency has not been my strength, in terms of writing, this year. But sincerity has. I am worrying less about response and more about speaking my truth. So, even though I have not written a poem every day this month, I do have a few to share.<br />
<br />
<strong>List</strong><br />
It would take a list <br />
to tell you what I love<br />
a list of names<br />
of landmarks<br />
of lost and found<br />
It would take a list<br />
to tell you what i love about<br />
moments that melted time<br />
like when your hand and mine<br />
rested on a common countertop<br />
and we laughed at an inside joke<br />
and just for that half-second I saw<br />
your eyes stop and and soften<br />
and i knew that you<br />
had a list, too.<br />
<br />
<strong>Annotation</strong><br />
Sometimes I want to mark you<br />
like a book,<br />
drag my hot pink highlighter<br />
right across your mouth<br />
and in your margins,<br />
scrawl a world like <br />
"remember" or ask<br />
"why?"<br />
I would underline your eyes,<br />
comment on your fingers<br />
and before I was done,<br />
I would certainly circle<br />
your heart over and over<br />
until my pen wore away<br />
your skin (just a bit)<br />
and the scar might make <br />
you remember me.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My Faults</span></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's all my fault </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The leaves falling fast </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The moon's final phase </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The way the days </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Never seem to last </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's all my fault </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Because I believed you </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thought I had to </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you were mine </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you and I </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Were tied like twine </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Knotted into one mess </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That would always hold </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But you never were </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mine or even yours </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Earthquakes have no warning </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fault lines are pretend </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Until they part ways </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I blame myself </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Name myself the creator </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Of the day’s end </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The fall into forever </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Crack in the earth </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Birth of our demise </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Before we were we </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am the red line </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thin on the map </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Miles wide across landscape </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I swallowed your lies </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The fault is mine. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I Am Supposed to be Listening to You Speak</span></span></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think about your hands,</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">what they hold :</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the remote control, </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">cold bottle of beer, </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the doorknob for a moment too long, </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the steering wheel when all you want to do </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">is drive, </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the ballpoint pen when all you want to do </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">is write. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think about your hands, </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">what they hold:</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">a family together</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">you back </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">up your promises </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">down a job </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">everything in your fist </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">but not too tight </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">you let it breathe until it lights </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">from your palm</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">free, but without </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the home of you, I think. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">About your hands, </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They hold. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Word Lover</span></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love the language</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">like you</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the language you lean on</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to let me know something I</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">shouldn't, the language you</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">let me lick from the space between us</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love the language you leave</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">inside your mouth</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for as long as you can</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">until it becomes too much</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">for your tongue</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and the only relief is writing it down</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">whispering it into text, tiny letters</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that tell me tell me tell me,</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I love the language. Like you."</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-16058484945377175042012-03-13T19:25:00.001-07:002012-03-13T19:25:27.185-07:00'Cause I'm Sick SOLSC Day 13"Can I have some water, Momma?" my five-year-old croaked from his bed. He had just woken up and I assumed the water request was really just a plea for my attention. About fifteen minutes later, I heard vomiting in the boys' bathroom. When I hurried in there, the little guy said, "Told you my belly hurt, Momma." <br />
<br />
"No, sweetie, you asked for water."<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, I forgot to say I wanted water 'cause my belly hurt and I was sick."<br />
<br />
And so began the day. I have to give it to Lucas, though. He isn't a whiner. He simply tries to make sense of it all.<br />
<br />
Can I have cereal, Momma?<br />
No, no milk when you are sick.<br />
Oh, when I am sick, I can't have drinks?<br />
You can drink, but let's stick to water.<br />
Oh, can I have dry cereal then?<br />
Sure.<br />
<br />
<i>Five minutes later:</i><br />
<br />
Can I have cereal, Momma?<br />
More cereal? Maybe you should wait.<br />
Oh, I have to only eat one time when I am sick.<br />
No, but let's give that time to settle.<br />
<br />
<i>Thirty minutes later:</i><br />
<br />
Can I have a popsicle, Momma? And cereal?<br />
Just the popsicle, dear.<br />
Oh when I am sick I can only eat one food at a time?<br />
<br />
<i>Followed by more questions all day long:</i><br />
<br />
When I am sick, I have to eat slow, Momma?<br />
When I am sick, I can't have jelly, Momma?<br />
When I am sick, I have to only hug, but not kiss, Momma?<br />
Can I dance when I am sick, Momma? <br />
When I am sick, I can't eat all of the popsicles, Momma?<br />
Can I have some more cereal, then, Momma, 'cause I'm sick? <br />
<br />
Maybe by the time he is better, he will have this sick thing all figured out. I'm pretty sure that I won't, though.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-84394472857452537252012-03-09T22:50:00.000-08:002012-03-09T22:50:17.204-08:00Cupcakes and the Courthouse (SOLSC Day 9)We teased Michael today. We were in the car, discussing the Elliott curse -- surely bestowed upon my husband's Irish ancestors by a peeved leprechaun -- and lamenting light-heartedly about the bad luck we often seem to have. Michael agreed with our curse conspiracy theory and added that he too had felt the harsh blow of the Elliott bad luck. Just the other day, he had dropped his cupcake at school and then proceeded to smash it accidentally with the leg of his chair. We teased him and said that it wasn't bad luck, it was God's way of telling him he didn't need the cupcake. The five of us laughed and ribbed each other a bit more, making the most of our unplanned drive.<br />
<br />
And tonight I realized that my husband and I had made the same mistake as our son. You see, the drive today was necessitated by a traffic citation that had been oddly processed by a courthouse 90 minutes from us. The courthouse only gives information through pre-recorded message, so the only way to resolve the traffic citation's mix up was to appear in person. The line at the courthouse ribboned out of the office doors; my husband waited in the line, 25 people ahead of him. And after the hour long wait, we were back in the car and on our way back home, but with the LA traffic, the return trip took twice as long. <br />
<br />
Hence, our discussion of the Elliott curse.<br />
<br />
But we had it all wrong. This inconvenient, somewhat frustrating, definitely stressful citation situation was not a punishment, but a blessing. An entire afternoon with all of us together -- the boys brought books to read and for the most part, bickering was absent. Sunshine spilled over the Spring-worthy blue skies and the <br />
warmth of the afternoon lulled us into a sleepy state. We teased, but we also laughed and listened and learned. It was exactly what we needed -- an afternoon of togetherness and a bit of peace. Today was our smashed cupcake and I thought it was wonderful.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-76426966919558117752012-03-06T23:08:00.001-08:002012-03-09T22:24:25.717-08:00Sometimes We Have to Stretch (SOLSC Day 7)There are nights when I wish my arms could hold all my boys at the same time. Instead, I end up feeling too small to be a momma. I can't protect my guys from all bad things, I know that. But tonight I needed to protect them from a good thing. Two of the boys and my husband are involved with Kung Fu and tonight, the younger if the two sons earned a sash higher than his older brother. I know I am not the only parent who has faced this, but until now, the family hierarchy had never been upset and although eventually all was fine, it was a challenge to balance enjoying one son's elation while mending the other son's wounded pride. Since my arms aren't long enough to hold them all together and love them so hard that they have to let go of any negative feelings, instead I had to hold them each on their own and whisper whatever they needed to hear: "Work hard and you will reach your goals," "I am so proud of you!" "I love you no matter what," "You are lucky to have your brother," "Thank you for being kind," and "I am always here for you."
Until my arms grow, my words will have to do.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-2077597107571355082012-03-06T05:19:00.001-08:002012-03-06T08:44:41.920-08:00Fries With That (SOLSC -- Day 6)Tonight I took my sons out to eat after my middle son, Nicholas, completed his Kung Fu testing with a terrific performance. We just went to a fast food place and we had items on the value menu, so it was not a lavish excursion. But they loved it, especially the cookies (which at this particular restaurant are amazing)!And even more than the pseudo-50s decor, or the cheap, delicious burgers, the boys loved the comment cards left at each table. They read each question aloud and conferred about the right answer. They even wrote in their own comments about the deliciousness of those fabulous cookies. <br />
<br />
Looking at their three blonde heads hovering over the card, I was reminded that we all want to have a voice -- even if it's just about fast food-- and I am glad the boys used theirs.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-12298292132865359932012-03-05T05:23:00.001-08:002012-03-06T08:46:13.550-08:00Zombie Lessons in Parenting (SOLSC--Day 4)I was watching the most recent episode of "The Walking Dead" -- a show in some ways completely out of my usual viewing pleasure, but in others exactly what I crave. I could do without the blood, entrails, guns, profanity and zombie-moaning, but the questions the show raises are provocative, important and powerful. Tonight the show has got me thinking about this: do we raise our children for the world we want to live in or the world we actually live in? And what if the two never meet up -- have we done them a disservice either way? And finally, as flawed, mere mortals ourselves, is it possible to raise our kids "right" or are we all destined to damage our children in some way even while trying to be good parents? Regardless all of the zombie- munching craziness, I have to admit I am hooked.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-75389575060228096162012-03-03T22:03:00.001-08:002012-03-06T08:48:05.192-08:00S'more, Please! (SOLSC--Day 3)Sometimes we set out to make traditions, but what I love is when they just take form all on their own. A couple of months ago, I tried to make s'mores sans campfire for my son's Campout themed birthday. They became a hot mess. Literally, a hot gooey mess. (The s'mores, not the kids.) Seeing I was flustered and trying to manage a small apartment full of boys, my husband stepped in and offered to redo the s'mores for me and I gladly accepted. They turned out perfectly. Now, the boys see Daddy as the s'more king and tonight when he offered to make those wonderful s'mores, we couldn't say no. S'mores are almost a bit too sweet and this slice is probably cavity-inducing, too. But, sometimes at the end of a long, busy week, that's just the kind of treat I need to have.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-3753885297403443722012-03-02T21:31:00.001-08:002012-03-06T08:47:43.327-08:00Definitions (SOLSC--Day 2)A student asked me today how we know when we love someone. Her question was not in connection with a romantic relationship she was trying to navigate, but instead stemmed from her feelings for her parents. "I care about them," she said, "And I would never wish anything bad to happen to them, but I am just not sure that's what love is."<br />
<br />
And in that moment, I am reminded again about why I am a teacher. It isn't really to teach English or to share a love of books or even to inspire excellent writing. She wanted to ask questions and have it be okay that the answers weren't complete because we are always moving closer to the truth but never quite reaching it. I am a teacher because that young lady needed a space to speak those words and she needed me to care about them and really consider my response. She wanted to open her heart a bit wider than she usually does and know I could be trusted with what was inside.<br />
<br />
And that's what I told her I think love is.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-73989417186945592062012-03-01T19:25:00.002-08:002012-03-06T08:48:56.494-08:00Listening to My Talker (SOLSC--Day1)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAy2tRUReAGt_hqD5cLRqLMfSn2BixNw66kL-ncw4wz1kFK0s8A4O6By9mF2y56wimoWj0jApb8N_fFgousCfqNaEbDYRGWqAeNzu1WiewCGr6p5PXc3aH7HiebLHKJD_YiUXcnYqWik/s1600/090a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAy2tRUReAGt_hqD5cLRqLMfSn2BixNw66kL-ncw4wz1kFK0s8A4O6By9mF2y56wimoWj0jApb8N_fFgousCfqNaEbDYRGWqAeNzu1WiewCGr6p5PXc3aH7HiebLHKJD_YiUXcnYqWik/s200/090a.JPG" width="200" /></a>My five year old is a talker. I mean, he talks from the moment he lifts his little head from his Stitch PillowPet in the morning until the last moments of our evening when his eyes are closing and I have tucked him back into bed. He talks stories and questions and what ifs and do you remember whens. Sometimes he talks in pretend languages and sometimes he repeats conversations he has already had. He talks to strangers in grocery stores and characters in cartoons. He talks when no one is listening, he talks while he bathes, he talks through any song or television show or movie someone else wants to hear. Lucas is a talker.<br />
<br />
So, when I took him to school with me today, I thought chatting with all of the students would be heaven for him. A five year old on a high school campus garners attention and I thought he would soak it up.<br />
<br />
Instead, every time someone said hi to him , he would look at the ground or hide behind my leg. I kept telling him not to be shy and to be friendly, but he still refused. He has a stubborn streak, so I thought it might be his way of trying to get his own way. Finally, as we left campus, I asked him again, "Why are you pretending to be so shy?"<br />
<br />
"Mom, I'm not pretending to be shy. I've just had enough of all the 'Hi, hi, hi.' It makes me tired."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I guess just because a little guy has a lot to say, doesn't mean he is an extrovert. Lucas isn't shy, but he sure does know how he feels. And he isn't afraid to share it. And sometimes that makes me fear the years ahead, but today, it just made me smile. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8UUzyzXdDkFQ6VV3iHTRWkyeQceOl6rxsNUcngryimsbp8OBtl4eyor3X_N7vQkbBfbZOzEXE3ef5P0BZL2aZ7dI-V8BKwmvLgWiQQap_vh_3QUgnyQwysa3WliIfnrVQXlzhQVOtzg/s1600/signeddaisyheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8UUzyzXdDkFQ6VV3iHTRWkyeQceOl6rxsNUcngryimsbp8OBtl4eyor3X_N7vQkbBfbZOzEXE3ef5P0BZL2aZ7dI-V8BKwmvLgWiQQap_vh_3QUgnyQwysa3WliIfnrVQXlzhQVOtzg/s200/signeddaisyheart.jpg" width="139" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-82840267667782280382011-12-30T17:20:00.001-08:002011-12-30T21:36:19.182-08:00OLW 2011Last year was my first participating in <a href="http://aliedwards.com/blog/one-little-word" target="_blank">One Little Word</a>. I chose<a href="http://morethanishouldbear.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-little-word-2011.html" target="_blank"> "discover"</a> and while I haven't done much in a physical way (artwork, scrap booking, etc) with my word, I have definitely been coming back to it all year. Essentially, I wanted 2011 to be a year when I discovered more about myself, more about others and more about the world we live in together. As I look back on the last few months, I see discovery was all around me. I learned more about my sons -- what they need (we did love language surveys!) and what motivates them to grow. I have discovered new approaches in my classroom that have transformed not only my grading practices, but the way I view my students, my work and my craft. I have discovered even more to love about my husband, a man who makes me see things in ways I never would on my own. I have discovered that people all around me need kindness and compassion in the most profound way and I am beginning to discover how I can meet some of those needs. I have recently re-discovered my love of reading. It never left, but I was making no time to nurture it. With each book<br />
I have read, I have discovered new questions to ask myself and new lives to carry in my heart and memory. <br />
<br />
With "discover" as my one little word, I think I have approached this year with an increased openness which I hope will continue to grow. <br />
<br />
Now, to choose a word for 2012... And maybe you, too?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4wVShRlAaCoXsWfUppTqqPBulgBlB5M3pEhpZS87Y0nxD7eRmoK8pwroLsOswbZk3JkPjIpQV24HmGS_2s-ORhNwWCBMHWLn_d0j2FdyPFBiA8Ho9wku3lKf4syDDdk24ixoGi_4H4g/s1600/signeddaisyheart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4wVShRlAaCoXsWfUppTqqPBulgBlB5M3pEhpZS87Y0nxD7eRmoK8pwroLsOswbZk3JkPjIpQV24HmGS_2s-ORhNwWCBMHWLn_d0j2FdyPFBiA8Ho9wku3lKf4syDDdk24ixoGi_4H4g/s320/signeddaisyheart.jpg" width="169" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-47245280287487566672011-10-19T18:24:00.001-07:002011-12-30T21:31:52.516-08:00National Day on WritingTomorrow I will be celebrating the National Day on Writing with my students. In preparation I wrote a response to the "Why I Write" prompt offered by NWP (National Writing Project). This is the latest in a long line of short pieces I have written on this topic. Sometimes, even with things we love, we have to remind ourselves why.<br />
<br />
Why I Write Today<br />
<br />
I am a writer because whenever something significant happens and whenever it doesn't, I itch to put it into words. <br />
<br />
When I walk outside in the morning, I want to describe how the fingertips of air touch my skin. When I drive to work, I want to list all of the adjectives I can that describe the sound of my car -- the whir, the grumble, the sigh, the buzz of tires on asphalt.<br />
<br />
When I talk with someone, I imagine the words being typed across a screen or written in a notebook. I imagine what that conversation would look like in the pages of a paperback, black type on rough vanilla pages.<br />
<br />
I see my words popping up in speech bubbles, filling all the empty space between me and you.<br />
<br />
I write because I am breathing, because I am living, because I am loving you and this is how we kiss.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4wVShRlAaCoXsWfUppTqqPBulgBlB5M3pEhpZS87Y0nxD7eRmoK8pwroLsOswbZk3JkPjIpQV24HmGS_2s-ORhNwWCBMHWLn_d0j2FdyPFBiA8Ho9wku3lKf4syDDdk24ixoGi_4H4g/s1600/signeddaisyheart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4wVShRlAaCoXsWfUppTqqPBulgBlB5M3pEhpZS87Y0nxD7eRmoK8pwroLsOswbZk3JkPjIpQV24HmGS_2s-ORhNwWCBMHWLn_d0j2FdyPFBiA8Ho9wku3lKf4syDDdk24ixoGi_4H4g/s320/signeddaisyheart.jpg" width="169" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-68370612816299482652011-10-12T20:01:00.001-07:002011-10-12T20:21:07.079-07:00What My Son SaidWednesday evenings have become my most peaceful of the week. The rest of the family goes to church while I take Nicholas to football practice. For an hour and a half, I don't have to speak to anyone, keep an eye on anyone, feed anyone or take anyone to the potty. I love my job and love my family, and goodness knows I love talking, but that brief respite each week has been a blessing.<br /><br />And then, I get some time with Nicholas. My middle son, he tends to be the quietest of the three, the least aggressive, the most compliant. On Wednesdays, we get time together uninterrupted by his more demanding brothers (who I love like crazy, too, of course!). <br /><br />After a dinner at Subway (a shared footlong and a chocolate chip cookie) --which earned me a "You're the best mom in the world!"--we had this conversation as we drove home:<br />(Passing the pumpkin patch)<br />Nicholas: Look at all the lights. They are so pretty.<br />Me: They are! Maybe someday when you get married, you can have a reception with lots of white lights like those.<br />Nicholas: Yes, and maybe after I get married my wife and I can go to the pumpkin patch.<br />Me: Then you will have to get married in October.<br />Nicholas: On Halloween!<br />Me: Well, whenever you get married, the girl you choose will be so lucky. <br />Nicholas: I want to marry a pretty girl.<br />Me: Pretty is fine, but it us more important that you find a girl who is kind. <br />Nicholas: Boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones.<br />Me(starting to get a little testy): But kind is the best thing for a girl to be; pretty isn't that important.<br />Nicholas: Well, you are pretty and Dad married you, so I think I will find a pretty girl, too.<br />Me (a little less testy): Aww, you are sweet!<br />Nicholas: Yep, Mom, boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones and girls don't like nerdy boys. Sometimes they like boys who are popular if they only do a few nerdy things.<br />Me: Like what?<br />Nicholas: You know, like play the banjo.<br /><br />I love Wednesday night.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4wVShRlAaCoXsWfUppTqqPBulgBlB5M3pEhpZS87Y0nxD7eRmoK8pwroLsOswbZk3JkPjIpQV24HmGS_2s-ORhNwWCBMHWLn_d0j2FdyPFBiA8Ho9wku3lKf4syDDdk24ixoGi_4H4g/s1600/signeddaisyheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="243" width="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4wVShRlAaCoXsWfUppTqqPBulgBlB5M3pEhpZS87Y0nxD7eRmoK8pwroLsOswbZk3JkPjIpQV24HmGS_2s-ORhNwWCBMHWLn_d0j2FdyPFBiA8Ho9wku3lKf4syDDdk24ixoGi_4H4g/s320/signeddaisyheart.jpg" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-47619035369661611252011-08-20T22:21:00.000-07:002011-08-20T22:21:23.021-07:00Saying GoodbyeSummer vacation was nothing like I thought it would be and exactly what I needed it to be. At the start, I told my husband all about these great plans I had made, the daily schedule I had devised, and all I wanted to accomplish. I even had a little acronym I wanted to use as a "title" for our summer adventures. And then, I didn't do any of it. No schedule, no accomplishment, no acronym. I have to say, it was lovely. The boys and I spent hour upon hour at the pool -- beginning most of our days there and not getting properly dressed until lunchtime. We didn't rush anywhere, we didn't pack anything, and the only schedule came from the fact that the pool opened at 8, so we knew we had to wait until then to arrive.
I learned amazing things about my sons, about how their minds and hearts work. Without the demands of the school year, we were free to talk, listen, and wonder together. I watched them play together, fight together and grow even closer to each other. Of course, they had their <strike>daily</strike> hourly skirmishes and there were a number of days when I thought the top of my head might actually combust in an outward display of my frustration, but those times were worth it for the moments of magic. Diving into the deep end, sprinting through the sprinklers, pizza picnics in the park and the last hours of the evening cuddled together reading books that made us cry -- we spent those long unplanned, unnamed days in love. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Now it is time for backpacks and notebooks. Lesson plans and lunchbags. I'm glad. Too much time away makes me antsy; relaxation begins to feel like laziness. I like thinking and planning and doing. But. We are two weeks into our school year, the boys and me both, and while we are adjusting well, I think we are all having a more difficult time time saying goodbye to summer this year. Or maybe, we are having a hard time saying goodbye to each other.
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-48745957282138956802011-07-04T00:33:00.000-07:002011-07-04T00:33:53.549-07:00What Days This Summer Taste LikeDo you ever have those moments when you wish you could snap your fingers and instantly record exactly what was happening? I had two of those this week and I have to write them down before they become part of the blur that characterizes my child-rearing years.<br />
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The first moment involved Nicholas, my middle son. I wrote <a href="http://morethanishouldbear.blogspot.com/2010/07/swimming-lessons-im-one-whos-learning.html">last summer</a> about his reluctance to swim and the breakthrough he had when he finally learned to dunk his head under the water and swim with a flotation device. Due to a relatively cool June, our pool time hasn't been very consistent, but the last couple of weeks have given us the chance to get into our morning pool ritual. After a few days, Nicholas asked me, "Why can't I swim yet?" I reminded him that he had refused for the last two summers to allow me to teach him. "Are you ready to learn now?" I asked. He definitely was. After a few minutes practicing kicks at the side of the pool and reminding him to make his arms like big spaghetti spoons, he was ready to try. He pushed off from the pool's steps, and with that, he was swimming! Just a few feet at first, but by the end of the hour, he was really getting the hang of it. Only three days later, he is jumping into the deep end and swimming to the sides all on his own. He still needs to keep practicing and improving, but he is now a swimmer. On that first day, he looked at me with his wet, shaggy hair falling across his eyes and a smile that could not get any wider and said, "I am so proud of myself!" My heart must have tripled in size. After years of watching him wrestle with the desire to dive in and the fear that held him back, I couldn't help but have a few tears fall as he reveled in his success.<br />
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The second moment this week happened just a couple of hours ago. I was reading to the boys from <i>Because of Winn-Dixie</i> by Katie DiCamillo, a book none of us has read before. We haven't even seen the movie, so each night's reading is a fresh experience for all of us. After a few chapters, particularly sorrow-filled chapters, I finished up and went to kiss my oldest son good night. He said, "Mom, I think I might be too sad to fall asleep." It isn't out of character for Michael to be strongly impacted by the situations in a book or movie; in fact, it happens regularly, but tonight, I asked him, "Do you know why it is good for us to read stories even though they make us sad?" He shook his head and I continued, "Because when we read what other people go through, even thought it is hard and might make us sad, it makes us better able to love people in real life because we understand them better. Reading stories that make us feel helps us be better people. Does that make sense?" He understood and we chatted in whispers a bit more about how books do this. Michael is a challenging boy, but his heart is about as tender as it could be. I told him that if we keep reading books together, the things he struggles with will become easier to control. That boy's sleepy eyes and soft smile made me want to lay down right next to him so we could fall into dreams together. Alas, laundry beckoned and so I sang him a requested lullaby, turned out the lights and left the room where my three boys lay fast asleep.<br />
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Funny how the chapters we read in <i>Because of Winn-Dixie</i> tonight were the ones about the candy made with sweetness and sorrow. Root beer, strawberry and melancholy all swirled together-- I know exactly what that tastes like.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnJDTUbBryKOlWCCMvVzQW8WGaaMYQ3u-xCRIwyuJGuk8PkICW_GV2Cc8K9Hqr2ciZAEP67BAMpbF9HrQ5LigC5b4DdsGt04w3Nh89X52Vn2Wjix9PYPLmuRN0uORf3u-49HHhNs7Sew/s1600/signeddaisyheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnJDTUbBryKOlWCCMvVzQW8WGaaMYQ3u-xCRIwyuJGuk8PkICW_GV2Cc8K9Hqr2ciZAEP67BAMpbF9HrQ5LigC5b4DdsGt04w3Nh89X52Vn2Wjix9PYPLmuRN0uORf3u-49HHhNs7Sew/s1600/signeddaisyheart.jpg" /></a></div>PS: I didn't mean to ignore Lucas in this post; I'm sure I will share a story about his antics/poignant moments this summer soon!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-76468926983494422802011-06-21T23:05:00.000-07:002011-06-21T23:45:31.664-07:00Discover, Drive and Living the DreamIn January I chose "discover" as my OLW (<a href="http://aliedwards.com/blog/one-little-word">One Little Word</a>) for the year and over the last six months I have constantly had the word on my mind. I anticipated a year filled with physical discoveries -- new places to visit or new activities to engage in -- but the reality has been discovery of a different sort. I have found myself discovering an emotional strength I didn't know I had. I have discovered that some of the qualities I thought were my weaknesses are actually the ones that make me most effective, and in turn, the qualities I thought were my best, might actually be the ones that lead me to my struggles. I think the most important discovery I have made is that I am not the only one. ever. In any way. No matter what challenges I face, there are others in the world facing the same ones. And there are others who have survived these challenges and emerged better because of them. No matter what success I may have, there are others who have had it, too. So, I'm not so special. Or at least, no more or less special than anyone else. That has been a humbling, comforting discovery for me.<br />
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As I have sought to understand myself and my place in the world better, I have been doing some reading. One book I am currently about halfway through is Daniel Pink's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Drive-Surprising-Truth-About-Motivates/dp/1594484805?ie=UTF8&tag=mor05c-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us.</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=mor05c-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1594484805" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> I have always claimed that teaching is my calling and I have often wondered why it brings me such a deep sense of satisfaction. I know part of this comes from the relationships with students and seeing them grow and learn, but now I believe part of the joy I get from teaching comes from the autonomy and opportunity to pursue mastery that teaching affords. Pink says, "Greatness and nearsightedness are incompatible. Meaningful achievement depends on lifting one's sights and pushing toward the horizon." Teaching gives me the chance every day to do that, to push toward the horizon. <br />
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A number of my former students are making this discovery for themselves and beginning to pursue careers which will allow them the autonomy, mastery and purpose that Pink describes as essential for our motivation. I think what they are doing is so wonderful that I had to share. I have two young ladies I would like to highlight today.<br />
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<i><b>MoDa Specialty Cakes </b></i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbm6FY4yTsfqyMbHOQAmdZLAYyNmbrr053yLBWe5CYRLAKFpfto_YreF6pEk4LBqxBG0SyTzVpq1xA1hYUcZ5nrNV5nHLKOrqyg7-00orIzPxmUHDp3D74zLwl6bs0UmnHhkEm5Z7cSk/s1600/cupcakes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbm6FY4yTsfqyMbHOQAmdZLAYyNmbrr053yLBWe5CYRLAKFpfto_YreF6pEk4LBqxBG0SyTzVpq1xA1hYUcZ5nrNV5nHLKOrqyg7-00orIzPxmUHDp3D74zLwl6bs0UmnHhkEm5Z7cSk/s400/cupcakes2.jpg" width="298" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBHGkc-Ok6h2F-wNO_iJ-s1uhqhENLR5g5FaJ8gxpyX9YXkDSDGg2kuYvb8ttq5qvDoJ5H9gKelIrGHrnuseHrzxxG9Al7S7LOUh-G7pmXYY1KESqN5BInTxO56riF6DaKZ70PuUU6h0/s1600/cupcakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBHGkc-Ok6h2F-wNO_iJ-s1uhqhENLR5g5FaJ8gxpyX9YXkDSDGg2kuYvb8ttq5qvDoJ5H9gKelIrGHrnuseHrzxxG9Al7S7LOUh-G7pmXYY1KESqN5BInTxO56riF6DaKZ70PuUU6h0/s400/cupcakes.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><br />
The first is Vickie Ramirez who has co-founded <a href="http://modaspecialtycakes.tumblr.com/">MoDa Specialty Cakes</a> with her mother, Lorna. Vickie recently graduated with her Masters of Business degree from Azusa Pacific University and she and her mother run the bakery out of their home. This is a very special family and I know the kind of love these women have in their hearts and you can see it in the work that they do. You can check out the MoDa Specialty Cakes <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/pages/MoDa-Specialty-Cakes/106825002715386">Facebook page</a> to see even more pictures of their delicious work.<br />
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<i><b>Marissa K. Fine Art Photography </b></i><br />
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Another talented young woman I would like to tell you about is Marissa Andronicos who runs her own photography business, <a href="http://www.wix.com/marissaksite/photography#%21">Marissa K. Fine Art Photography</a>. Marissa is a student at Point Loma Nazarene University, but her business has really grown out of a passion only recently discovered. The work Marissa does is absolutely stunning. She has experience with weddings, engagement shoots, senior pictures and family portraits. I love seeing how she experiments with a variety of locations, props, and poses. No two shoots look the same because Marissa challenges herself to grow as a photographer with each shoot she completes. One of my favorites was her Huck Finn-inspired shoot. Marissa is a very smart, gifted young lady. You can check out her portfolio and <a href="http://marissakphotography.wordpress.com/">follow her blog</a> to see more of her fantastic work.<br />
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I hope I can feature more of my former students in the future as they begin discovering what drives them and as the dreams they have for themselves are revealed and then realized. Thanks to Vickie and Marissa for being willing to share their work!<br />
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As the year goes on, I cannot imagine that "discover" will not be a part of my experiences. I am eager to see how that one little word guides me, impacts me and colors my vision of myself, and the life I live in this wonderful world.<br />
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Anybody else seeing their OLW make a difference in their lives?<br />
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PS: Is that little jellybean in the pics above not the sweetest?? She is such a doll!<br />
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<div class="zemanta-pixie" style="height: 15px; margin-top: 10px;"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=b80e4795-f7bd-4e84-940e-a1cf13e945b4" style="border: medium none; float: right;" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-71138304873913229522011-06-09T11:54:00.000-07:002011-06-09T11:54:06.338-07:00Summer SuccessSummer vacation is terrific -- let's start with that. No alarm clock in the morning, time with my family, sunshine and poolside and spur-of-the-moment picnics all make summer wonderful. But, it has some pressure associated with it, too. Everyone wants summer vacation to be all we have hoped for, to meet all the expectations we place on it as we plow through October and March. Super busy during the school year, I look to summer as a needed escape, but also a time to catch up on everything I have let slide. So,I struggle with balancing a healthy dose of relaxation with taking advantage of the extra time summer allows me. I have so many projects, activities, chores I would like to do, but I also know that I need to enjoy a bit of summer's slower pace and simpler fare. On days when I spend all my time busy and productive, I feel accomplished, but then I fear the first day of school will arrive and I will not have renewed myself in a way that will allow me to begin teaching from my best place.<br />
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To help me with this, I thought a list might work wonders (Doesn't a list almost always make things better?). If I can look at my growing list of summer successes maybe those feelings of slovenly guilt will subside. Maybe. Plus, just making the list makes me feel a bit less lazy and a bit more accomplished. I am curious to see what the list will include once August 9th arrives. Hopefully, it will make me smile. And then I will know the summer was perfect.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-72570761850552536882011-06-05T21:59:00.000-07:002011-06-05T22:17:30.383-07:00Last Day of SchoolOn my last day of teaching this school year (remarkably it has been almost two weeks since then!) I received a number of kind, sincere letters from my students. As I read them, I cried. And then I wrote:<br />
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<i>I'm supposed to be grading papers. I am supposed to be finalizing grades. I am supposed to be cleaning my classroom and packing things away for the summer. Instead, I had to sit down and write. I had to sit down and share with somebody, anybody, everybody, how incredibly powerful the teaching experience is. </i><br />
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<i>My classroom is quiet, for what feels like the first time this year, and I have been sitting and reading thank you letters from students. And when the tears started falling, I knew I had to capture this feeling.</i><br />
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<i>The work I do is the good work. It is work that sometimes feels like not working at all because it is so natural. It is simply one person guiding another person for a short time as they journey through life. It is beckoning the child over, holding the hand, sharing anecdotes and wisdom and warnings and praise.And then it is listening. To what they say, to what they don't. To the music they don't always know their words produce.</i><br />
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<i>And other days it is the work of mules and oxen. It is the harvest. It is pushing from behind, pulling from the front, leading by example and digging in my heels. I try on those days not to let the strain show. I try to still hold the hands, listen and encourage. Not only for them, but for me.</i><br />
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</i><br />
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<i>I would be lying if I said I do it all for them. I want such wonderful lives for them; I want them to be reflective and kind, thoughtful and giving, bright and resourceful. But, I also do it for me. I do it because it brings me unspeakable joy.</i><br />
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<i> So, today, as I read the most poignant words from the special students I have been blessed to call mine, I feel undeserving. How could they be so sweet and so appreciative and so affected by someone who is just doing what brings her joy?</i><br />
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I will definitely enjoy my summer, a little more sleep and lots more time with my boys and my husband. But I also love summer because it gives me more time for thinking and reflecting and filling my head and heart back up so I have even more to give when school begins again in August. <i> Can't wait!</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-71518893010674671462011-05-02T21:30:00.000-07:002011-05-03T09:08:18.451-07:00I'm Sneaky!If you'd like to check out my surprise blog post for my husband's birthday, <a href="http://www.daysinthepark.com/2011/05/surprise.html">click here</a> and join in the celebration!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-40686329360500697862011-04-30T21:33:00.000-07:002011-04-30T21:33:46.367-07:00#Poemaday 30: Be CarefulWow, I am so excited that I have made it to the end of the month! It has been a delightful challenge and I thoroughly enjoyed it.<br />
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So here is today's offering in response to <a href="http://budtheteacher.com/blog/2011/04/30/">such a stirring photo</a>. Thanks to <a href="http://budtheteacher.com/blog/about/">Bud Hunt</a> for all of the inspiration this month.<br />
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<b>Be Careful </b><br />
Be careful, young man, of the footprints you make.<br />
They leave a path for others to follow<br />
and a map of where you have been.<br />
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Be careful, young man, of the shadows you cast.<br />
They stretch and shrink with the sun<br />
but they are always shaped by you.<br />
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Be careful, young man, of the water's edge you walk.<br />
Some waves can inspire you toward the horizon;<br />
others will tempt you, then tug you under.<br />
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Be careful, young man, of words like these.<br />
They are the truth of a life foolishly, wonderfully lived,<br />
and nothing could be better.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-55811022138261511202011-04-30T21:15:00.000-07:002011-04-30T21:15:37.199-07:00#Poemaday 29: Proximity <a href="http://budtheteacher.com/blog/2011/04/29/npm-2011-prompt-29/">Prompt #29's</a> picture was beautiful, and it made me think about community.<br />
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<b>Proximity</b><br />
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We can put our hands through our neigbors' windows,<br />
no glass or distance to keep us out.<br />
So, when the words start,<br />
they paper our walls, too.<br />
<br />
Sometimes they fly in short hard bursts,<br />
no crescendo only banging like cymbals.<br />
We flinch, then look at each other,<br />
embarrassed that we heard.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the words are low and soft.<br />
Those are harder to hear, but we crave them.<br />
We stretch our necks a bit<br />
to catch something of the heavy sweetness.<br />
<br />
Always we hear,<br />
but when we speak,<br />
we forget<br />
there are walls to paper in other homes, too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740705523666812877.post-10868313588853297502011-04-28T21:53:00.000-07:002011-04-28T21:53:27.808-07:00#Poemaday 28: Puppet Show<b>Puppet Show </b><br />
<br />
I push the buttons, make the move,<br />
but you are the puppeteer,<br />
string around my heart.<br />
Invisible lines make me move<br />
in response to your twitch,<br />
make me dance in response to your desire.<br />
<br />
Others see only<br />
my confident gestures, my stony face<br />
and mistake these for control.<br />
I let them be fooled; it's part of the show<br />
we never planned<br />
and do not discuss<br />
for fear it will drop the curtain.<br />
<br />
leaving us both<br />
without a story to tell.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13960460295877416918noreply@blogger.com1