Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.
~Winston Churchill

Another contestant for my favorite courage quote. I'm going to ask blog readers to vote on your favorite at the end of the month, so pay attention. Peggy, you ask where I get the quotes. Some I know - keep in my head and live by but most come from one online site or another. Two favorites are http://www.wisdomquotes.com/cat_courage.html and http://www.quotegarden.com/courage.html.

It's been a good, busy, odd weekend. We were going to drive down to Corpus to finish up a few tasks with Bob's apartment (everything he wanted to bring home didn't fit in the car the first time - but we decided to wait because the AC down there is broken and should be fixed on Thursday and it's HOT! It was nice to be here for Fathers' Day weekend anyway. We hung out with Joanna's family on their patio as evening cooled yesterday and watched Zachary do skateboard tricks. Poor Joanna and Tracy! She is working long hours getting the store ready for inventory and also certification - two major tasks, and he is still in that huge hot brace and suffering from his knee injury - but they are hanging in and yesterday evening was a sweet interlude. Before that we had been to the gym with Ruth's crew - taking turns working out and holding sleeping Liam. Both felt great. I hope I'm getting a second wind on healthy eating and exercise - was doing great through fall and winter, but less inclined lately. This weekend it seems easier again.

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. ~Ambrose Redmoon

This may be my favorite courage quote yet this month -one that's new to me. Once again I had a day that didn't require real courage, just persistence, discipline, perspective. It has been a long work week. My weeks alternate shorter and longer and this was a longer. The weekend stretches invitingly ahead.

Whoever said anybody has a right to give up? Marian Wright Edelman

Good ordinary day - precooking in ggod shape, laundry done, everybody well as far as I know, work invigorating, Bob home, the Lonhorns still in the winners' bracket, writing happening, friends in my life - good ordinary day.

I can only embrace my courage to the extent that I accept my vulnerability.
Dorothy Baldwin Satten

Courage is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.
Winston Churchill

Good long mixed day. Bob and I started out with a visit with Joanna, Tracy and ANDREA. (The big KDZ are still at the ranch). It was so pleasant to just hang out and talk baseball, books, babies in their home - peaceful. Then Ruth,Chris and Liam came over and Ruth took pictures of Liam (Thing One) and Andrea (Thing Two) with me in their little red costumes like the characters from The Cat In The Hat. Back before the babies were born we joked about who would be Thing One and who would be Thing Two regarding birth order and somewhere in the process Ruth bought the sweet sleepers - good to have the pictures today even though I didn't brush my hair before being caught on camera with a precious double armful. Part of the urgency regarding the pictures was that thought the garments are the same size Thing One and Thing Two are NOT - Liam having had a major recent growth spurt - so we wanted to catch them while the costumes still fit. For a peek you can check out http://liamslife.shutterfly.com/ourgalleries or http://andreasgrace.shutterfly.com/. Note the difference in foot size between the two "things" and the hand holding which was spontaneous, not posed.

After family time Bob and Bill and I met to do our Snowflake Method writing meeting. I like the way this is flowing for me. They seem to feel the same. Step two, to turn the original sentence into a paragraph which lays out the basic progression of the novel int "three disasters and a resolutoin" is still short enough to share in the blog - so here is where I am so far. I did, obviously choose my first option about the two old friends starting a clinic.

Snowflake Step One

Two middle aged therapists risk danger and personal failure when they open a clinic for the uninsured in a tough neighborhood.


Snowflake Step Two

Libby and Becca, former college roommates, in their late fifties now, rekindle reconnect in an effort to establish a low cost mental health clinic for the uninsured in the now rundown hose the shared during the seventies. Libby, a therapist has just left her state agency job in disgust at failures of the system and Becca’s husband has asked her for a divorce, so both are at cross roads and crises of competence. The challenge of restoring the house and opening the clinic doors shakes both women as they discover the deterioration and increased violence of the neighborhood, but they find unexpected allies who help them continue. Once the clinic is open, Libby struggles with questions of ethics and competence as case after case tests her sense of her professional skills. After Becca is stabbed by the mother of a child the women have been working to find placement for, her husband pleads with her to return to the marriage. She and Libby both must decide whether to abandon or continue their dream.

“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. Christopher Robin to Pooh” A.A Milne

The above quote reings very true. Almopst everyone I know is harder on him/herself than on anyone else. Makes me sad. I approve of high standards for self - and at the same time, I think we, like our children, function best when viewed through the eyes of love.

Bob and I had a very productive organizing weekend, and a fun weekend. And the Longhorns won the first World Series game - though not elegantly. THey could probably use the above quote tonight. A kick of game watching was the four generational nature of our experience. Bob's Dad called when the game was over and Joanna was on the phone with us through most of it. Liam, who we kept for about an hour, seemed to be intrigued by the movement and excitement on the TV. Odd the things that pass through generations, picked up by some, ignored by others. I wonder which if any of the next generation will be baseball fans.

The best way out is always through.
Robert Frost

Today was a good day with Bob - the kind of easy busy productive day summers give us. We rearranged art and family pictures and cut book covers for his class next year and it was FUN, just being able to be together and do those things.

Another stormy night, though not as extreme as last night. I'm glad it's Friday. This feels like the first regular weekend of summer - Bob home already, no huge plans, lots of little projects to do. I'm a happy thankful sleepyhead tonight - a good feeling but not productive of much writing.


Courage without conscience is a wild beast.
Robert G. Ingersoll

The test of courage comes when we are in the minority. The test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority.
Ralph W. Sockman

Stormy night - tornados between ther girls' house and ours. Big hail, but it seems like less damage than one would expect. All of us safe. The kids took shelter in the c loset under the stairs for a while.

We took care of Liam while Ruth and Chris celebrated their anniversary. He cried some, but I waas mostly able to comfort him. He was good.

Moral cowardice that keeps us from speaking our minds is as dangerous to this country as irresponsible talk. The right way is not always the popular and easy way. Standing for right when it is unpopular is a true test of moral character.
Margaret Chase Smith

We could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.
Helen Keller

Bob and I watched New York Ballet doing Romeo and Juliet (Prokoviev) on DVD - gorgeous innovative sets and costumes, superb male dancers. The second act, the tragic act, really caught me - but I still have trouble with the commentary saying Romeo and Juliet is the greatest love story. It seems more a story of revenge and impulse than truly of love. In the greatest love story (romantic love) I'd see the lovers live many years and grow old together, hurt and forgive each other, overcome obstacles and losses, rejoice together too, not just mourn. Tragedies are cathartic and beautiful, but I think the best love story would not be a tragedy, but a tale of transformation and growth.

Zachary's little birthday party was a delight. We gave him a little blue camel back pack to take on the trip later this summer and he loved it and used it while playing in the yard and riding his bike - well celebrated boy. We played a game at the table - What is one reason you like having Zachary in the world. here are some of our answers.

Grandma - He is strong and kind and the world needs more people who are both strong and kind.

Grandpa - He has a great smile and the world needs more smiles.

Auntie - He comes into the room and says "I just love today."

K.K. - He's funny. He makes me laugh.

Danny - He shares his toys and plays with me.

David - He was born on my birthday and is my very good friend.

Bob and I had a really restful nap after the party and then went on to delight in the Longhorn's baseball victory over TCU for a trip to the COllege WOrld Series in Omaha. Go Horns!

In the process of listening to baseball coverage I learned that today is Jakie Robinson Day, so it seems right to use a courage quote by that man.


Whatever obstacles I found made me fight all the harder. But it would have been impossible for me to fight at all, except that I was sustained by the personal and deep-rooted belief that my fight had a chance.
Jackie Robinson

Good long day - hard in moments because I think I'm tired on some level. I love having Bob home. We went to another basebnall game today and the Longhorns lost - which means another game tomorrow which we'd best win. It's not til evening. Ryuth and Chris invited us to their house for supper - delicious as usual - asiago sausage and artichokes with homemade pasta. Yum! After supper we walked on a trail in their neighborhood - Liam first in stroller then in mobie wrap falling asleep on his Mommy and enjoyed the full moon. It put on a show playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. We played a question game, each of us asking a question which all of us answered - made for much good introspection and sharing. I'll share the questions here and my own answers. Again, the names of the questioneres are in parentheses but the answers are my own only.

(Bob) What book that you read this year was your favorite - Lost Boys by Orsan Scott Card

(Victoria) What would question about yourself or your life would you most want to have answered this time next year? Do I want to change focus between therapy work and writing wisdom work and/or fiction and if so how?

(Ruth) What is the hardest truth you have learned about yourself this year? My level of anxiety/struggle as perceived by many who love me is inconsistent with my view of myself as a happy person and troubles some who love me.

(Ruth) What is the happiest truth you have learned about yourself this year? I like myself body and role and personhood, at the age I am and really am not much afraid of the losses of aging in the way that I once was.

I love talks like this.

I'm nervous tonight because we are going to have a little late birthday party here for Zachary tomorrow (Bob's idea and he's right the kid should have a celebration with grandparents) I'm just not in the mood for hostessing even at a light level and have never been much of a birthday person. Bob will do most of it and I bet I'll have a happy report tomorrow.

Today's courage piece is poem not simple quote, by my friend Peggy Goetz, upon having met and listened to Sister Helen Prejean inspiration for Dean Man Walking., the oper and and the film. The opera is one of the strongest works of art I've ever seen. It has no simple interpretation for me, but calls up the courage to rexamine deep splits in my beliefs on complex issues. For more about Sister Helen, check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_Prejean and especially her blog http://www.sisterhelen.org/

Meeting the Monster

Sister Helen was afraid to meet
him, a young man condemned
to die for a brutal crime. She
wondered would she be able
to talk to him, to even look at him,
this monster. Writing a letter of
spiritual support was one thing,
but meeting quite another. She
caught her breath with the sound
of a door behind the plexiglass.
And then he was just a man,
so ordinary, so human, pale
in chains, alone, scared
to die, young. She looked
the Monster in the face
and it changed her life.

Peggy Goetz, June 5, 2009

Conscience is the root of all true courage; if a man would be brave let him obey his conscience.
James Freeman Clarke

Good day - Bob's home and the Longhorn baseball team won and K.K. visited and watched a DVD with classic choreography by Balanchine. I bought groceries for healthy summer cooking but haven't actually cooked yet - just keep munching cherries. Yum!

When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest.

Henry David Thoreau

I chose tonight's courage quote in honor of my sweet husband who understands and experiences the glory and power of music as deeply as anyone I have ever known. He is now home for the summer. HOORAY!!!!! I am writing short tonight for obvious reasons.

Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties.
Erich Fromm

Good courage quote for the beginning of a writing project, I think.

Several of you have expressed interest in my Show Flake Method project The link to Randy Ingermanson's description of this method for creating a plan for a novel is http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/snowflake.php. The greatest news is that Bob is joining Bill and me. He has been wanting to try young people's fiction and this very structured method appeals to him - actually more than it does to Bill and me, and he has a great first step.

The description of the first step of the Snow Flake Method - from the web site I referenced, is:

Step 1) Take an hour and write a one-sentence summary of your novel. Something like this: "A rogue physicist travels back in time to kill the apostle Paul." (This is the summary for my first novel, Transgression.) The sentence will serve you forever as a ten-second selling tool. This is the big picture, the analog of that big starting triangle in the snowflake picture.

For myself, I was getting frustrated - am so much the "seat of the pants" writer, but I took a long walk yesterday and focused on the method and something clicked. I came up with three rough first steps and then realised that all three have the same theme in a way - the same reason fro being. So, even if I don't know what story I want to tell or how it will go I know WHY I want to tell a story right now, and for that I thank the snowflake. Here are my three roughies. I'd very much appreciate that anyone who reads this vote on which is most appealing.

My theme or purpose for writing is something like "In the early twenty first century people of different ages and backgrounds connect and pool understandings and strengths to face challenges."

Option One - Working Title Clinic Two middle aged therapists risk danger and personal failure when they open a clinic for the uninsured in a tough neighborhood.

Option two - Working Title Ghost A fourth grader, her recovering addict father, a young kindergarten teacher, a retiring janitor, and the school librarian work together to decode messages from an obstreperous ghost in order to find hidden money needed to save the school's music program.

Option three - A divorced nurse discovers purpose through lost stories while deciding what to do with her family home in a small Texas town.

To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself.
Soren Kierkegaard

History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.

Maya Angelou

I didn't need any particular courage today, a day of meaningful work, not really stretching my edges but feeling useful. I do see courage every day in my clients. I guess my act of courage for the day is yet to come - finishing the Snowflake Method challenge and coming up with at least one novel "seed" to share with Bill tomorrow at lunch. This is very hard for me, starting in this systematic way, not natural, and I REALLY want to at least begin the process in real earnest.

Great day with Liam - such a sweet life, music time, story time,, naps in the chair. I want June to be a month of new beginnning on rhis blog - an experiment of a theme for a month. Out of mt hat, I pick courage for June, and start with a quote from a woman I much admire.


You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.Eleanor Roosevelt

I'm sitting at Ruth's very fast computer looking forward to a great day with Liam tomorrow (last day he and I will have alone while his parents work, though I trust we will get other days alone). THe beach trip was great- even a lovely walk on the beach. Padres Island, and really all of south Texas has greeened up nicely since we were down there last in the midst of extreme drought. That's a big relief. It was black skimmer night on the beach. I don't know how many we saw, more than twenty I'm pretty sure - stately and unique. I love to watch them fish by well...skimming. It's especially impressive when they do it in a line of four or more. THe absence of brown pelicans was also striking. Bob says he bets they are on their nests on nearby islands, which makes sense. I can't remember the last time I was at that beach witout seeing many pelicans.

CLassroom packing up was successful. I love seeing BOb in the school where he is so loved, among friends.

Past my bed time, (not insomniac, just got in late, talked with Bob, and needed to unwind a little. I had a pleasant bus ride down here after a productive, satisfying work day. I'm actually looking forward to packing upthe classroom tomorrow and then going to the beach in the evening. I'm a dork to like cleaning, but I DO (espefcially other people's cleaning) and of course I love the beach, especially with Bob. And interesting observation tonight was that several bus passengers brought fishing gear with them in order to fish down here. The bus was well ridden but not packed. I got to sit alone the whole way, which was comfortable. WE walked Lobo down by the bay after my arrivl, and I'm stonished again by the inky black quality of Corpus Christi bay on a still cloudy night. It takes the"inky black" phrase out of clichedom.

Good ordinary day - work and friends and writing group. Bill and I are starting a writing project next week (gulp) using the "snowflake method" of organizing ideas to create a plan for a novel. We want to see where we will get by following this schematic for a summer. I love doing projects with Bill. THis is scary since at this point I have no idea what I will be writing about. It will be interesting to see where this leads us.

Bob and his kids had a great San Antonio field trip. No rain. He learned new details at the Museum of Texas Cultures, incuding that Tejanos used ants to hollow out drinking gourds to hold water safely. They lured the ants with honey. Caddo Indian women were tatooed in a straight line dividing the face in half when they married.

I'm thinking about Memorial Day from the point of view of everyone hurt by wars, as well as our U.S. soldiers. My friend Peggy wrote a poem about Afghanistan which touches me deeply.

Afghanistan


Who wills it on the earth
thirty years of war,
a hundred, a thousand
years carried on the
backs ordinary people
struggling to survive
another week, another
month, waiting for
running water, electricity
schools, clinics, laughter
while the War Lords
replace lords of war
hugging, shaking hands
selling poppies, while
the women weep
behind their burkas
time without end.


Peggy Goetz
May 27, 2009

For anyone waiting to see what was in the Menger time capsule, disappointment. They couldn't dig it up because it was pouring rain during the ceremony. Bob worries that more rain will make the field trip difficult tomorrow, but I hope not. He is taking his car and driving a couple of teachers because there are not enough bus seats - another great use for the Prius, Pearl.

I'm thrilled for K.K. tonight. She got commended status on her language arts TAKS test (as much as I dislike those tests, this is a real accomplishment for a girl who started out quite dyslexic and used to fear failing the reading portions. She's also reading real books for fun more and more. One hurdle behind us! I'm also touched that family relationships are close enough that she called to tell me about her scores.

I'm sad I didn't see Zachary on his seventh birthday - the first one I've missed celebrating on the day for any of the KDZ, I think - just no wheels available with everybody working and Tracy to hurt to drive. I did talk to Zachy and he sounded happy, well celebrated with cupcakes. Bob and I will take him on a special outing of his choosing as soon as school is out.

Aside - Chris is off his crutches and even took a walk with Liam in the stroller. I'm relieved he's moving better and hope Tracy will be too , soon.

Almost Summer! Though I believe Bob and I are getting better each year at the weekend cooking long distance commuting game, and though the Prius helps with ecological guilt, we both look forward to summers. This one is almost upon us. I suspect we may not be odd among teachers and their families, who may appreciate summer as much as school kids. I can sure identify with K.K.'s can't wait for summer attitude in a way I don't think I could if my own life weren't so shaped by the school year.

All in all, Bob has had a pretty good school year, though still some frustration with the motivation level of the students.

He has added some great pluses for the fourth grade this year, including Thursday's field trip to the Alamo and Institute of Texas Cultures. My bus trip down to San Antonio to meet him Saturday morning was a great success. We scouted the two locations for fourth grade activities, which was fun. Its odd to be old enough that quilts, fans, architectural styles and cooking implements from my girlhood are featured in historical exhibits. Next weekend I will go down to Corpus and help him close up the classroom - a really big deal this year since the school is undergoing renovations and will be locked up tight all summer.

This weekend was good for us - quiet especially yesterday. We watched the Longhorn baseball team on TV win the Big 12 Conference tournament. We also watched Ballet Austin's performance of Hamlet, the amazing original choreographies of our wonderful local choreographer Stephen Mills. K.K. is so fortunate to be studying in his company. She says she already misses ballet class and the last class was just Friday - but she is also in the mood for a break. Zachary turns seven tomorrow - amazing.

Last night we watched the national Memorial Day concert and I was very much moved by the loss of life that stands behind our nation as we know it today. I'd seen many military families sightseeing when exploring in San Antonio. Listening to General Colin Powell talk about military personnel "in harm's way" brought back very recent clear images of these young men and women and their families. I wonder if there is any way we humans can learn to "do war no more". I do pray there is.

Good Friday, excited about San Antonio trip tomorrow. Bob is talking to me on the phone though about how difficult his class is at the end of the year, especially about picking up mess - refusing to pick up things they didn't think they had thrown on the floor. He says kids throw trash behind the filing cabinet or in someone else's desk on purpose - too lazy to walk to the trash can. I don't get this kind of behavior AT ALL. I know he has lots of good classroom moments, but some of the negative attitudes are really unpleasant.

A bizarre additional post. The fathers of BOTH of my youngest grand babies are currently on crutches! Chris was hurt in a fluke accident at a TAKS pep rally a three weeks ago now and is recovering, and Tracy tore knee ligaments Monday night at football practice and is at the can't move really hurting stage. Yuck! THese are minor troubles as troubles go, but oddly conicidental.

Enjoying being a teacher's wife tonight. I'm proud of my teacher man husband. He won a grant competition to start a "Step Up To The Plate" backpack program to help parents and students work together on homework next year. Also, his school is being declared a historic school on Tuesday and, as part of the ceremony a time capsule buried by Menger students eighteen years ago will be opened. I wonder what's in there. Also, I'm taking the bus down to San Antonio Saturday morning to meet Bob and go together through the Alamo and the Museum of Texas Cultures to prepare for the kids' filed trip later to those to locations. I won't be on the field trip, but am glad to help with the preparations.

Tired but satisfied with today's work. It's odd how mourning goes. I play on line Scrabble and wonder if Dolly liked to play word games. I never knew. I wish I'd known her better. I pet my cat and remember how much Paul loved his cat and get teary. Even several steps removed, as I am with these losses, I notice the wave form of grief, how it comes and washes over unexpected, and passes.

Back at work today, no Liam time. No Grandma time at all. I do love my job and the atmosphere at work, ehte energy of the work I do. It is the only thing I've done (except maybe for writing when that is at its very best) that touches being as satisfying as deep personal relationships. It's relationships, connections that put me over the top. I like being part of the process of helping people grow, learn, discover, thrive. I can be sitting in the chair and a half with Liam watching his eyes light up because I kiss him in the right place and inflect my voice the way he likes on "Itsy Bitsy Spider" or in my office chair watching a young woman get it for the first time that there is nothing fundamentally wrong with her - that the people who abused her did what they did because of something in them, not something in her.Even with writing, with characters, so much of the joy is infeeling connedted.

Return

Rich rainy years spring
dances in verdant, lush
croaking toads, flashing fire flies,
spreading brilliant quilt of
bluebonnets, wine cups,
Indian paint brush, dewberries.

Drought dry years spring
limps in, depleted, dull
yellow green, absent toad
chorus, firefly lanterns
sparcely dotted with sturdy
daisies, prickly poppies.

Every year, in drought
or quenching rain,
dancing or limping,
rich or struggling.
abundant or depleted,
Spring returns.

Victoria Hendricks, May 17, 2009

I've been posting everywhere else this week and didn't realize I hadn't been posting here. Big oversight. Big week.

I'll begin with a quote which a friend used as a tagline today and which is absolutely true for me.

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Whooping cough does seem to be behind us. Only Danny ttested positive. I'm so glad the family persevered and got him treatment and the rest of us (especially babies) prevention. Bob and K.K. have had colds - but you recover from colds. I'm impressed with all BOb got done this week, especially pictures for his school's social, even not feeling well. He will be here in a little while after working to pack up his room this morning. He attended a lovely retirement party for a good friend and longterm special ed teacher last night. Tonight we go to the last symphony of the season. I would never have gotten tickets to symphony or opera without his influence and now I'm so glad we have them - look forward to each event.

The highlight of my week, of course, was living out at Ruth and Chris' house taking care of Liam while Ruth worked the week - talk about bliss. The boy is happy with my care and bottles of his mom liquid gold breast milk. He smiles, plays, cuddles, vocalizes, responds, initiates, loves flying, hates tummy time, taught me the bliss of "sleeping like a baby" cuddled in the chair an a half by the window. Ruth and Chris have done a typically superb job of organizing their home and their lives to envelop this little guy. Every moment out there was like heaven,including the time with the adults while Liam slept. I am so fortunate.

On the dark side, news of deaths and illnesses of friends and family members and the struggles of clients hit hard this week, reminding me how fragile as well as how precious our lives, hence my attachment to the quote, which bears repeating.

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. Ralph Waldo Emerson

I think whooping cough is behind us. I'm on my last day of antibiotics, which means Joanna and Tracy are too. I'm loving being with Liam days while Ruth works. For the first time I'm really fantasizing what it would be like not to have to go to work- to have days like these all the time - not a realistic option financially but man do I love being home with babies. I';m really getting to know Liam's expressions and moods, the games he lies, what scares him, what comforts him. He is a total delight of a little guy - really growing and vocalizing. I think he's beginning to recognise his name, but I'm not sure. These days are just a patch of heaven.

We are less scared about the whooping cough. I think everybody who needs to be on atntibiotics for prevention is and I feel comfortable being around little Liam starting on Tuesday. Joanna actually was given an extra day off work to prevent any possible spread and is using her Mother's Day with the boys here to clean house. She says it feels good because having the house clean will feel so good. The boys here are in really different states. Zachary seems well but Danny, who had more time to get really sick, is still coughing and weak seeming. I hope he feels better soon, but am just relieved this illness hasn't spread more. I give Bob lots of the credit with his research skills and ability to persevere regarding getting us medication. As of now I know more about whooping cough than I ever wanted to know.

I assume K.K., only big enough kid at home, is helping her Mom with the house work some, though I know she has lots of homework. Yesterday we got to watch K.K.'s regular ballet class' end of year show and WOW! They are level 4B now, the very top level of the Intermediate program. Next year they are pre-professional with lockers in the company dressing room and as I said WOW. The class danced a jazzy number that was utterly a kick - not so much a sense of students dancing but of dancers. This was especially true because of the way Ballet Austin does it's end of year shows, each one starting with tiny beginners who are walked through the moves by their teachers, moving up through the levels and ending with a demonstration by the big kids - the amazing 4B's. I remember when K.K. was one of the lost, scared littles, when she was moving up, becoming more and more competent and delighted in her dance - and yesterday, well, as I've said twice already, Wow!

Paul's memorial service yesterday was deeply touching - a superb testament to the fact that it does matter how we live our lives. Paul lived from a place of generosity, kindness, heart, fun, joy, compassion, and people of all ages from all over the world had stories to tell about him yesterday. I was especially touched by a little guy, couldn't have been more than seven, maybe younger, who had to choke his words through tears to tell us about the cherry tree he and his Dad had planted with Paul, and to remind us that "It's still here." As is everything else Paul planted. That service really reminds me to keep very conscious of what I plant.

Issue of legacy also came up because of Mothers' Day, which my crew has remembered sweetly. A friend asked "how do you remember your mother?" a good question and one I could have answered very differently at different times. I'm glad to have gotten to a place with my feelings about my mother where I remember her living more than her dying and her strengths more than her flaws.

I remembermy mother for her music - singing "Amazing Grace" or "mack the Knife: in the kitchen, singing "Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree" of "Hush Little Baby" to me, and later my babies I remember her singing "Moon River" and (for some odd reason since she'd never even set foot in Georgia "I'm Rambling Wreck From Georgia Tech and a Heck of a Heck of a Heck of and Engineer" with her daddy, cousins, uncle, aunt, and brother on the screened in back porch steamy summer nights. I remember Mama singing in Czech and in English, happy, sad, every mood inbetween. I remember her singing along when she played hot jazz piano while delicious dinners cooked. The piano was always as close as possible to the kitchen and Mama run off to the piano and always get back before anything stuck to the pot.

I remember other things about my mother. I remember her sense of style, her excitement in a fabric store, her patience crawling around me on the floor getting a hem just right. I remember her temper, which I later understood was all about fear, mostly fear I wouldn't be alright if she didn't get everything right raising me. I remember her relentless and very effective problem solving. I remember her openness with me about many difficult subjects, especially sex, sexism, and money. I remember and treasure her ultimate respect for me despite our many differences. I remember and emulate her willingness to apologize. But if I have to boil it down to one thing, I remember my mother for her music.

This whooping cough scare really has me scared. Doctor told Joanna today that exposed babies sometimes just stop breathing without showing any symptoms. And how is anyone supposed to get any sleep? K.K. and I did go to a lovely Ballet Austin Cinderella. It was fun to go with her, watch here rapt in the dance, and see her with many of her dance friends. Everyone dressed up for the ballet, more than symphony or opera here - gorgeous gowns on women and girls of all ages. I enjoyed watching audience almost as much as show. Now everybody, even those of us immunized, are supposed to get antibiotics. Andrea has already been started on them even though she shows no symptoms. My immunization should still be good, as should Joanna's and Ruth's, but I'm supposed to take care of Liam on Tuesday and now I want to try to get antibiotics too since the doctor told Joanna she should.

Also Paul's funeral is in the morning. SO much to take in all at once.

Life is insane right now - such a mix. The swine flu is causing school cancellations and cancellations of cancellations. Bob was originally going to be off until next Wednesday, then supposed to go back for tomorrow, but now he is staying home taking care of Danny who may or may not have whooping cough. Danny has to stay at our house because whooping cough would be very dangerous and potentially lethal for Andrea and Liam, too young and not vaccinated yet. It is also Bob's and my twentieth wedding anniversary - very sweet. O'm glad he's home. I wrote him a poem.

Odd Combination


Always great combination,
You teacher, me healer
both dreamers, seekers,
lovers of books, hikes,
plays, music, children.
moonlight on water.

Always odd combination,
You wolf, me bear
you following logic,
me all intuition,
you on the dot,
me between moments,
you with to do list,
me of the cuff,

You name wild flowers,
each genus and species.
I remember their names
from season to season
You keep up computers,
I keep up with birthdays.
You get the math right.
I balance relationships.


Twenty years later.
Still odd, still good.

Victoria Hendricks
May 6, 2009

Still allergic to sleep! I've got to crash eventually. But it has been a great weekend with Bob home and extra day and time wiht grand kids. Today Bob and K.K. went to the Broadway revue at Ballet Austin, which they thoroughly enjoyed while Danny, Zachary and I weeded the garden. Andrea watched (and didn't cry - thank you Andrea Grace). Later in the house she showed us that she can scoot on her tummy and let me hear her sweet laugh for the first time when I kissed her feet. Yesterday Liam showed off his strong strong body and ability to pull to a stand, and stand with very little suppport. I am going to have to child proof soon because these strong babies will be all over the place before I know it. Even with the North AMerican flu lurking, and the mixed possibility that Bob's school will be closed, I am in a happy mood and have really enjoyed this weekend.

This is one of those odd times when I feel allergic to sleep, but know I need it to enjoy a busy day tomorrow gardening with the kids, feeding meals to them, looking after Andrea as well as the big KDZ. Of course they hel;p me with Andrea. And Bob is home, which is great. Hew and I went to the symphony tonight. The Austin Symphony is su[per under Peter Bay and tonight we had a treat of hearing
a new work, Fifth Symphony, by local composer and professor Dan Weschler - a work which really impressed both of us. The second movement was inspoired by the bats under our local Congress Avenue Bridge and by the composer's long friendship with Peter Bay, who has been in Austin ten years now.

Last poetry prompt is to write a farewell poem, and I am writing mine to a young friend who I much respect as he enters the last days of his life.

Farewell, Good Soul

I wonder if you will die tonight.
If not tonight, soon. Too young.
Includer, friend, husband, father
son, brother, seeker, keeper of trees,
you have feared, raged, wept, hoped,
hung on, calmed, wiped tears, let go.
You walked into my office seeking
wisdom, left as much as you found.
Thank you. I will miss you. Farewell.

Victoria Hendricks, April 30, 2009

Today's poetry prompt is to write a poem starting "Never....". Much easier than a sestina. I don't know if my version is more prayer or promise.

Never Stop

listening, learning, looking,
growing, receiving, giving,
forgiving, dancing, hoping,
remembering, dreaming,
writing, working, playing,
changing, creating, building,
healing, loving, living,
As long as I breathe,
may I never stop.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks, April 29, 2009

OK, this is a big deal, the poetry prompt today. It was to write a form poem, a COMPLICATED for poem called a sestina. Anybody who wants to look up the pattern, here's a link.http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/Sestina6x6339+Thats+Math.aspx That's not why it's a big deal. This is the one prompt in the poetry challenge I gave up on last year. It frustrated me and made me cry and I just quit. I got very close to that point this year, but here it is, my sestina, followed by the poem about my freedom to write or not write sestinas or anything else I please. The sestina also mentions many of the birds Bob and I saw Sunday at the Port Aransas birding center.

Birding

Pink cloud, Roseate spoonbills lift
over marsh. Miracle moment, quick loss.
Sora strides out of reeds, out of dream,
I raise binoculars, resolute, quick with hope.
Mystery quicker than mind, rail hides in mist.
Birds rise, leave me on boardwalk alone.

Wind kisses, slaps, purifies as I stand alone.
White shape encourages, eye follows, hope lifts ,
but it is just a trash bag, no bird, flapping in mist.
hope, loss hope loss hope loss hope loss hope loss
hope, loss, hope, loss, hope, loss hope, loss, hope.
I raise binoculars again, between reality and dream.

Roseate spoonbills circle, drop pink feather, dreamer
I stand on boardwalk holding feather, thankful, alone
Splash in the water, way out, fish jumps, heron hopes
for catch. Ordered line of heavy brown pelicans lifts
ponderous, graceful, one bird's catch, another's loss.
Ten foot alligator still as log in green water under mist.

Magic brilliance of indigo bunting storm breaks mist
Color too bright for reality, must come from dream,
vanishes when grackle squawks, loss, hope, loss.
Coot cries. Giant red eared turtle dives. Again,alone.
Each time beauty disappears, I choose whether to lift
binoculars , whether to accept loss, hope, loss, hope.

Translucent neck of tricolored heron sparkles, feeds hope
color and absence alternate, through morning mist.
Rain falls, mist lifts, mist descends, loss falls, hope lifts
Roseate spoonbill cloud. pink as any sweet dream
evaporates as fast, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone.
Put binoculars in case, sick of loss hope loss hope loss.

Alligator under boardwalks snaps jaws, mallard's life lost
Meadowlark rises cry too beautiful for orchestra, like hope
Foolish illusion, so much life death in marsh, no way alone
Colors flash pink, indigo, translucent, yellow through mist
Beauty, life, death, hope loss is real in the marsh, no dream.
I unlatch case and reluctant, catch rosy cloud as binoculars lift.

On boardwalk, in marsh, I lift binoculars, risk loss
of flash of dream, surrender again to persistent hope
Keep peering through the mist for connection, never alone.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks, April 28, 2009


Resisting Patterns

Freedom, the wise woman taught,
is neither rebellion or compliance.
I don't have to follow difficult forms.
I don't have to refuse. I choose.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks, April 28, 2009

GOOD NEWS SO FAR - The baby niece of my husband's teacher friend survived her surgery and is breathing OK now, in pain and they don't know if the tumor removed is cancer or what - but so far so good.

Today's prompt was longing - which gets real primal for me.

Hold Me

Hold me. Enfold me.
Never let me fall.
Keep me safe.
Keep me close.
Don't get sick.
Don't get hurt.
Don't die. Don't die.
Hold me. Enfold me.

Victoria Hendricks, April 27, 2009

I'm happily back from Corpus, though with long layover. was great in a way I got paper letters and cards written, which I've been putting off - but I'll need to punctuate tomorrow with a nap or two and get to bed now.

Prompts keep hitting home. Today's was miscommunication. I think I spend way too much energy trying to be clear, to fine tune, to get communication just right. I try too hard and get tangled up and in the end what I really want is just the same thing a child wants, love, connection, acceptance, being heard.


Child's Plea

It's really quite simple.
Please love me.

I pick you a flower.
Please love me.

I cry when you leave.
Please love me.

I paint you a picture.
Please love me.

I dance on the table.
Please love me.

I get sick and whimper.
Please love me.

I get straight A's.
Please love me.

I do all my chores.
Please love me.

I sulk in the corner.
Please love me.

I fight with my brother.
Please love me.

I eat my green peas.
Please love me.

Why don't you hear me?
It's really quite simple.

Victoria Hendricks, April 26,2009

Today was good. Bob 's tutoring went well though with smaller turnout than he hoped for. Cleaning the apartment was pleasant and successful and I introduced Bob to online scrabble (Lexolous on Facebook) to which I am joyfully addicted. Our beach birding was pleasant - odd conditions at beach, very flat gray day, dry dunes from drought, clammy breeze. We didn't get into the water but had fun. Oddest bird sight was a cattle egret standing in a flock of laughing gulls and Caspian terns, whittish and awkward but wearing a gorgeous cap of rusty breeding feathers.

We continue to process and pray about the news about Heidi's renewed cancer growth. Our lunch with Bob's teacher friend was canceled because her one year old niece was in emergency surgery, suddenly unable to breathe because of a large growth constricting her internal organs, and her parents had been told babies don't always wake up after surgery. I was horrified for this family, but visualizing Liam or Andrea so ill really shook me. Also, much less serious. but frustrating and painful, we learned that Chris had a soft tissue injury to his leg during a TAKS pep rally yesterday (over zealous wrestling coach carried away with throwing Chris choreography. So he's hurting and on crutches and that's unfortunate, especially right before TAKS.

Chris' accident and the poetry prompt to write about an event emboldened me to write about a recent near miss of my own - about two weeks ago - that I hesitated to write about here, probably more out of embarrassment than anything else. My right knee still aches some and there are sensitive spots on foot and shin still, but I'm mostly back to normal.

Fall

Ordinary morning, clock scolds,
time to get moving, clients
expect me. Author reading is
scheduled for tonight. Favorite
soft black skirt, apricot top,
amber necklace, comfortable shoes
all await on rocking chair and desk,
ready to go. Not I. Stayed up too late,
groggy but responsible, I roll left like
every morning. expect to land standing
beside tall bed with feet on cool floor,
but I roll wrong, too much momentum,
smash against bedside table, spill
slat night's soda, overturn bowl of
change, kick power cords, unplug clock,
upend lamp, all free fall, then splat.
I sit up fast in a pile of pennies,
dripping Diet Dr.Pepper, lamp in my lap.
I sit still, stunned, hurting, feel right
knee start to swell, finger knots on shin
and under right eye. Even if I get ice on
it fast, I'm going to have my first shiner.
But I can think, stand, walk, call a cab,
listen, offer counsel, read with feeling,
sign books, receive hugs, get home, even
remember dietary restrictions for Passover.
I am still myself. Life goes on one more
day. I did not crack skull, snap neck,
break foot, wreck knee, die. Live, I think
I'd better, between falls, each ordinary day.

Victoria Hendricks, April 25, 2009

It's odd how the prompt on the poetry challenges keep fitting my experiences and mood. Today the prompt was to write a travel poem - and today I rode the Greyhound bus down to Corpus to visit Bob. Writing this travel poem was fun.

Secret Time Machine

Greyhound bus sailed across
across green Texas green flats,
where cattle took shade, munched
bluebonnets under knots of live oak,
through tiny towns with giant
courthouses, tempting bakery
signs, main street banners
proclaiming rodeo, water melon
thump, football championship.
Homecoming..Secret time machine.

Greyhound bus let me out
today in beach city where
husband's welcoming arms
pulled me in.. He couldn't see
I'd detoured back forty six years
to my first bus trip alone, finally
old enough at twelve, sucking
Crystomint, playing solitaire, past
grazing cattle, under bright banners.
Homecoming. Secret time machine.

Victoria Hendricks, April 25, 2009


I'm glad to be here with Bob as he nervously prepares to tutor kids in math tomorrow morning - nervous because this group is just beginning to get important concepts, and very close to the dreaded TAKS. While he tutors, I'll clean. Then we'll join a teacher friend and her husband for lunch and hope for dusk on the beach. It is good to be here. And I was glad we were together when we learned that Heidi's tumor markers were increasingly abnormal this month. I haven't absorbed that news entirely yet, just sitting up feeling love and support for them while Bob sleeps to get ready for the tutoring.

I'm tired tonight, talked out, too warm in my house and too stubborn to turn on the AC, need to pack a few things to take to Corpus to see Bob after work tomorrow. Need to get more sleep than I got last night. I haven't seen any of the kids except K.K. for two whole weeks and here I am going away for the weekend. Next weekend I'll have to get a baby and boy fix big time.
I am looking forward to migration birding with Bob though, just being with him. And I smile imagining us on the beach at dusk.

Today's poem prompt is to write a poem of regret and I'm keeping mine simple.

I Regret

harm done
good left undone
cards unsent
letters unanswered
compliments unspoken
gossip exchanged
resentment harbored
forgiveness withheld
love unshared
good left undone
harm done.

Victoria Hendricks, April 23, 2009

A friend shared this prayer in honor of Earth Day.

The Land's Prayer

Our Father, Our Mother,
We are on Heaven;
Hallowed be this ground.
Your Kingdom will come
If our will is one
on Earth,
As it is our Heaven.
Give all this day their daily bread,
And forgive us our excesses,
As we forgive those whose excess exceeds ours.
And lead us not into consumption
But deliver us from avarice,
For ours is the power
To preserve Your Kingdom
In all its glory,
Forever and ever.
Amen.


Layne Longfellow

Prompt today is to write a work related poem.

They'll Pay You


Mama said Education is
the road to success. Get
a degree. Get three.
Don't depend on a man to
support you. Men leave.
Men die. You have to be
able to take care of yourslf.
Education is the key.

Daddy said Don't let
anyone turn you into a
bean counter. Find work
you love. Work like hell
to get damn good at it.
Work from your heart,
passion shows. There's
always money at the top.

I listened well to both,
got degrees, found work
I love, made it my own,
work from my heart,
come home satisfied,
most days, good tired.
Still I needed smarts,
and luck. Very thankful.

Victoria Hendricks, April 22, 2009

Prompt today was to write a hiaku and/or a poem about hiaku (against the form or in praise of it). I wrote my hiaku about the view out my office window and my second poem about the family dramas people have brought into my office over the years.

Late Spring Afternoon

Green blows across blue.
Warm light, Chill breeze, short shadows.
Late sunset tonight.


In Need of Hiaku

Family drama swirls messy,
florid, torrid, hot with similie
and metaphor, reference
to past and future, blame,
resentment, recrimination.
Needs the cool quick focus
of hiaku, clean in the moment.

Victoria Hendricks - April 21, 2009

Saturday night Bob and I had one of those experiences of art that it would be wrong not to note in a post - one of those highs where art illuminates human experience and suffering - just pours through like white light and purifies, and also keeps one thinking for days. We saw Austin Lyric Opera's production of Dialogues of the Carmelites - , a 1953 opera in three acts by Francis Poulenc. Set during Reign of Terror France, this opera explores courage, fear, sensitivity, faith, doubt, suffering, martyrdom, loyalty, freedom - so many of the big themes. Blanche, the main character is a highly sensitive young woman of noble birth who takes refuge during frightening times by joining the Carmellite Order of nuns - only to find it is not a refuge at all but a sisterhood which tests her to the point of martyrdom. I loved the complexity of the characters, and the music just sang through me, down to my very bones.

There is a crack in everything - that's how the light gets in.
Leonard Cohen

Prompt today is to write a rebirth poem and again it is a perfect fit for me, thinnking so much as I am lately about the experience of living the life I have now in the marriage I cherish now after grieving Kerry. That marriage, that life, seems like ancient history now, and I never thought that would feel true. It is sweet history, but history. Life as I know it is life with Bob. I wish I had gotten to this place sooner - not quite sure when I got here, but here I am.

Never The Same

Friends who loved us as a couple,
friends who mourned his death,
gasped when I announced
plans to marry, to marry you.
It will never be the same
each warned, different styles
same message. Lonely, hopeful
ewly in love, I didn't listen.

It was not the same. You were
not his shadow, You liked
more hot sauce, detested scent
of jasmine, arrived on the dot,
hated my habit of rearranging stacks.
I fought your uniqueness, molded
you hard into his image. You resisted.
I panicked. It was not the same.

Daughters grew up. Grandchildren
came. Yours. Ours. You took
us all to the zoo, the beach, the
wilderness, put up the tent, brought
new stories, new songs, held me nights,
worked beside me days. Love has your
name now. He is sweet memory.
Doesn't need to be the same.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks - April 20, 2009

Prompt today was to write an angry poem and the timing was perfect because I hit a mood about the time Bob needed to leave that was full of that deep frantic tantrum anger - the if you let go of me I'll die but if you come too close I'll yell at youkind of anger I don't feel too often these days. I think it got triggered at the baseball game by the consistently rude behavior of the man behind us. He yells at players and uses crude language in a loud voice and bad grammar and profanity and just has an edgy, ugly attitude that brings out the worst in me. I want to turn around and tell him to shut up - or say something profound that will make him want to change his ways - or just punch him. So it is easy to get into angry tonight.

Tantrum

Can't find words,
targets, reasons,
need to smash,
break, break out.
I need you to
hold me tight.
Let me go.
never let go
all at the same
time and you
have to go it right
or we will both
disappear and
the world will end.

Great Saturday - so busy - short now because Bob is here and falling asleep. Just goiong to post poem. Promt was "an interaction" and I grabbed mind out of this weekend, taking K.K> to watch Ian dance.

Let Go Of Her?

You are going to have to let go
of her, I said. The cab won't wait.
He held on just a second more, still
in stage makeup and Oberon tights,
she in her best dress with turquoise
jewelry I made for her, and her mother's
kitten heels, hair brushed down her back.
So young, just friends, they say, taken
ballet together since he was eight and
she was five, eight years growing up
watching, listening, helping, supporting.
She surprised him after the show, his
first real lead, top billing. He didn't know
she'd come and of course she spent all
week planning outfit and transportation.
He grabbed her hard, grinned, even asked
his mom to snap a picture. He hates
being photographed. She leaned in close,
beamed, glowed. You are going to have
to let go of her, I said. Maybe not.

Satisfied tonight after a long work day and work week. It even rained plenty today so the garden and trees should be happy. the babies' new apple trees are really leafing up. I have K.K. asleep in the back room. She and I went to see her friend Ian dance in Mid Summer Night's Dream with a youth company. He had his first lead - Oberon, and he danced it well, and was delightedly surprised to find K.K. waiting for him in the wings after the performance. The kids also danced a moving modern piece in tribute to the brother of the director, a south central L.A. school teacher who died of AIDS. Interesting commentary on medical care is that K.K. was surprised an American had died of AIDS - she sees it as an African problem.

So I'm satisfied tonight which makes the prompt easy. I'm supposed to write a poem starting with "All I want." So many places I could go from there, but none of them rings really true so I wrote it simple.

All I Have

All I want
is all I have.
All I have
is all I want.
This moment.
Child sleeping.
Cat rubbing.
Rain falling.
Heart beating.
All I have
is all I want.
All I want is
all I have.

Today's prompt is to write about a color.

Almost Silver

Almost silver
moonlight, starlight,
rush of rapids,
sea foam, snow glow
first last sun gleam,
beginning, ending,
yearning, memory,
transcendence, hope
Almost silver.

Today's prompt was to change the title of a known poem and then write a new poem with a new title. I chose Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" a poem I've both loved and struggled with for decades. I love the love and spirit in the poem, the fire, the fight. And yet I remember the sweet release, the tenderness of Kerry's dying - the tenderness of NOT fighting.

Let Me Go Gentle

Let me go gentle
into welcome night.
Noon is not eternal.
Eyes squint against light.
Long shadows fall tender.
Release is brave as fight.
Please bless surrender.
Let me go gentle
into welcome night.

Victoria Hendricks, April 15, 2009




**************

This morning's prompt was to write a love poem and an anti-love poem. Easy prompts the last couple of days.

Miss You Mornings

I miss you mornings
wake up alone in bed
imagine you teaching,
struggling to get kids
on track, wanting them
to care as much as you
do about what they learn.
I love how you struggle,
how much you care,
love that you choose
to teach school instead
or wake lazy in my bed.
I miss you mornings.



Hollywood Love

Hollywood love
is cut flowers.
Bright, fragrant
short lived
Me, I'd rather
plant a tree.

Today's prompt is to write about a hobby - an easy one for me.

Beads on a String

Color and light,
cool glass beads,
mixed in a bowl
to match my mood,
bring your smile,
chase shadow away.

Color and light
cool glass beads,
exuberant, serene,
fall into pattern,
shine in the sun
by my will alone.

Color and light
cool glass beads,
demand no answers,
suffer no pain,
need no comfort,
simply calm my mind

This evening I went with a friend to City Hall to act as moral support and courage while she waited for the ruling on a variance for an eight foot tall fence around her pool. She got the variance with no complication and was much relieved, AND I found the whole experience of listening to a board discuss and vote on requests for departures from building code totally fascinating.

The board dealt with small issues, like my friends fence, and in several cases with issues of minor improvements in poor neighborhoods of old houses where keeping modern space restrictions just didn't work. They also huge issues of development, pros and cons, for example whether a drive in bank could be built in a neighborhood trying to become more urban and pedestrian focused (the neighborhood between my office and my house). The bank company was granted the variance to build in a way that is more car focused, because the board ruled that this was practical and also because of safety concerns regarding robbery and employees walking from cars to work if the parking was not visible from a street. The vast majority of the people who came tonight were members of neighborhood associations against the development of a new rehab hospital in an area that is already overdeveloped and impinges on my local creek, Shoal Creek. The very assertive young woman behind this proposal was strongly instructed by the board to talk to the neighborhood associations for a month - and to LISTEN to them before coming back with a revised proposal. All in all I liked the way the board dealt with the range of issues before them and am glad of the unexpected way I spent my evening.

The poetry prompt today was to write a ooem entitled "And So We Decided". I wrote my poem late, after talking to Bob on the phone, after a tiring, rich, wonderful weekend of interfaith celebrations of renewal and hope, freedom and commitment. I get overwhelmed way too easily by trying to manage in the world, get supplies bought, meals on the table, keep the spirit right. On the one hand I struggle, am not a smooth proficient hostess who keeps it all together. On the other hand, it is so good to have a family of people I love and respect, who love and respect me, to have a home in which I can entertain, to have money for not just groceries, but holiday foods, to have paying work I even love, to have health. The poetry assignment and my mood really melded together. I need to remember when I start to get anxious that it is a decision, my decision, hundreds of time a day, that what I have and am really is sufficient, dayenu.

And So We Decided Dayenyu

Dayenu, enough, sufficient
Prayer at Passover instructs
me to remember how little I
need, how much more I have.
Last night, draped in purple
silk, sweet cherry wine in
heavy goblet, baby grandson
passed from lap to lap like
pitcher for ritual hand washing,
I looked from face to beloved face
and decided again, dayenu, whatever
I lack, whatever I fear, in this
moment, life, family, circle, dayenyu.

The poetry prompt today was to write about an object

Seder Plate

I did not grow up with
a seder plate, have
chosen and purchased
the artifacts of Judaism
one by one, holiday by
holiday. Tonight I smile
as I wash my seder plate,
creation of local potter,
deeply textured in spirals,
Hebrew lettered wheel of life,
rim like braided challa.
I smile, pleased with choices
that led to this April moment
in which I stand in my
kitchen at Passover and
wash my own seder plate.

Poetry prompt today was to write about Friday - and it is just what I need. This week has left me tired, more than usual, glad for a shift in energy. Time to restore.


Friday Evening Falls

Friday evening falls like gentle
rain, purifies weary mind.
Shabbat .enters home,
quiet, calm, reminds me
to rest, appreciate, be.


Victoria Hendricks

Poetry prompt was to write of an early memory. This is a favorite memory but one I haven't written about.

Lifted

Lifted out of motel bed - still
in pink flannel night gown,
Daddy wrapped me in blanket -
Quiet - whispered, he wanted
to show me a surprise. Nestled close,
excited, I didn't ask what. He strapped
me into seat of friend's convertable,
top down, cold mountain morning
and drove up snake of road into
clouds- pink, golden, violet, glimmering,
irridescent, inside a mountain sunrise.

Victoria Hendricks

Tonight was great, if exhausting. We had a reading for the grief book Stricken, to whioch I contributed an essay. This is the second time I've participated in a readiong and it was, again, a very pleasing experience. We had around forty people I think - they came and went a bigt, never forty at once. I enjoyed hearing some of hte pieces read which I did not get to hear at the first reading.

Bob is home for Easter weekend - a real treat.

I've been slow to write in tribute to Mort Satten who, with his wife Dorothy, was my teacher of psychodrama, and dear friend. I haven't seen him in a few years, since he became ill with a recurrence of cancer and retired. I'd stopped attending workshops regularly after completing my director's training, but Mort and Dorothy are among the major forces for good in my personal and professional lives. I first studied with them soon after Kerry's death, and they were among the first in my circle to meet and bless my marriage with Bob. It was Mort who grabbed me after I'd directed my first psychodrama and told me I was a natural at this work, Mort who was a strong force in shaping my personal and professional confidence.

Mort taught me so much, more even about life and keeping it real than about craft - though he taught me plenty about our craft. Mort is the source of one of my favorite mantras "Real is better than perfect." I think I was present the first time he said it, and I clearly remember his grin up in a theater in the mountains north of Taos when he said real had better be sufficient because real is what he could do. Me too Mort. And he did a great job of real, authentic, spontaneous, himself. I know he grew up tough and poor in New York City during the Depression, found his skill and power as a soldier in Europe during World War II, was deeply affected as a Jewish soldier present at the liberation of a concentration camp. He lived so much life, arms open to love and loss alike, changed careers, lived a great love, became patriarch to a blended family and to a community of healers. Mort lived big, lived love, shaped many, includiong me, for good and service. I miss him already and will always be thankful for his influence in my life.

Poetry prompt today was to write about a routine.


Bath Routine

I could call it ablutions
but that would be silly.
Every night I give myself
a bath, like Mama used to
when I was a little girl,
warm water in warm room
soft towel waits, scent of
chamomile, ginger, oiled
water softens skin, book
to read as long as I want,
time, my own, behind
closed door, cleansing quiet
between work and sleep.

Victoria Hendricks
April 8, 2009

Today is a big day Jewish wise. Passover begins tonight - and today is a rarely occuring (every 28 years) Jewish holiday commemorating the creation of the sun. This holiday has not been much celebrated. It last occured around the time of Ruth's birth. With the concern about global warming and the need to preserve our earth and utilize solar energy Jews around the world are placing more emphasis on this holiday this time around. Here is the basi information posted on my favorite Jewish ritual site, http://ritualwell.org/

Tradition holds that the sun was created at the spring equinox, the first hour of the night before the fourth day of Creation. Every 10,227 days – according to the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Berachot 59b – the sun returns to its position at Creation. As codified in the Shulchan Aruch and on the basis of intricate calculations reconciling the Jewish and Gregorian calendars, Birkat HaChammah, a prayer service marking this 28-year cycle, is conducted on a Wednesday in the month of Nissan, when the sun is about 90 degrees above the eastern horizon.

The year 5769 is such a year. The Blessing of the Sun takes place on April 8, 2009 (erev Pesach). It is interesting to note that the secular date was the same throughout the 20th century, and scholars have determined it will continue to be marked on this date throughout the current century.

In recognition of the stresses on the world's environment, many and varied Jewish organizations also are seeking to make this a singular occasion for raising our awareness and taking responsibility as caretakers of "the Earth and all that dwell therein."

Ruth found a powerful utube video with pictures of innovative uses of solar power around the world and a beautiful song.

Words and Music: Unknown
Performed by Rabbi Shawn Zevit of "Generations"

Powerful sun full of radiant light
Weave us the web that spins the night
Web of stars that holds the dark
Weave us the earth that feeds the spark

Strand by strand, hand over hand
Thread by thread, we weave the web

To hear the song and see how some are harnessing the energy of the sun, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=629JxUYTlFk.

Used by permission of artist

My very sleepy blessing is that each reader of this blog finds new energy from diverse sources and channels that energy to renew self, others, and earth.

It's been a comedy of errors getting my office put back together. When I arrived at work today, having been promised that the carpet guys would be down and the big furniture back in my office and books on shelves, the carpet was down but the furniture was still all out in the hall and the door wasn't even hung on it's hinges. I freaked for a minute - can't do counseling without a door! But my friend Bill hung the door quickly and we got chairs back in so I could see my first client. I had a break later and just hauled the big stuff back in myself - iompatient to wait, and it's mostly all togethr now. I'm glad I'm phyusically strong. My landlord apologized profusely and so did the owner of the carpet company - said the crew is usually very reliable and has never just walked off on a job like that. I have no idea what happened. Monitoring my own emotions, I realize I could have been much more upset about this whole leak/recarpeting/furniture out of place marathon. Maybe I am actually learning a little wisdom and perspective.

The prompt today was to write a clean poem and then a dirty poem (or to write one or the other) The prompt hit the spot for me because I've been thinking a lot about relationships and intimacy, what makes a relationship feel clean or dirt, comfortable or uncomfortable. I hate guessing or feeling like other people are guessing about me. I want to be able to talk about any conflicts or confusions that come up, and feel uncomfortable and anxious when others make assumptions that they don't make explicit. It's odd, because I think I'm pretty intuitive, but I don't want to base relationships on my intuition or anybody else's. I want it simple and overt - clear - clean. Hence the poems.

Clean

You ask until you understand
what I say and how I mean it,
clearly, every nuance, no doubt,
no guesses, no reading between
lines, no figuring me out, no secrets,
no lies, no unfinished business, no
resentment, no walking on egg shells,
no mystery, sufficient commitment
to make consistent effort, respect.
engagement, challenge, enduring love.

Dirty

You try to figure me out, but don't ask
what I mean, how I feel, what I need.
When I try to tell you, you read between
lines, make guesses, assume intentions,
harbor resentment, walk around secrets,
refuse to ask for what you want, hate me
when I won't guess, want me to get it right
without being told. There is no right enough.
No sufficient commitment, lack of respect,
Romantic tension disquised as enduring love.


Victoria Hendricks
April 6, 2009

Poetry prompt today was to write about something missing. Here's my effort.

Transmission Imperfect

Chinese gong from Grandmother's
red dining room hangs on teak stand
behind computer desk. Striker is missing.
Glass fronted book shelf from Grandfather's
office holds Golden Books grandchildren
rarely read. Knob of bottom drawer is missing.
Names of people in photographs, stories behind
expressions, nuances, explanations, destinations,
through generations, much is kept, much missing.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks
April 6, 2009

In my actual day, nothing was missing. I spent most of the day with Ruth and Liam
(so much bigger and more participatory in life than two weeks ago when I last spent Monday with them). His eyes follow activity all around him. He seems more and more in the world. Hard to believe two months ago he was still inside - a mystery. I'm glad I';m writing down snippets of these ordinary good days - snippets like Liam loving to look out the living room window, the sweet ringing of the wind chime Chris bought Ruth and hung where she can hear it, the way Ruth smiles when she plays with Liam ...."I'm gonna kiss your....(fill in the body part). These are the kinds of things that go missing over the years - maybe less so written down.

I had a lovely weekend with K.K., who spent both nights with me. We visited old haunts, including Katz' where she got a hug from the owner. I loved watching her in her jazz class, so confident and competent dancing to music from Chicago. I love hte age she is, sharing books and hobbies. We read Twilight to each other and made necklaces.

Prompt today was to write a poem about a landmark.

Tower

University of Texas Tower
pushes into changing sky
fossil laden, chiming song
backbone of family tradition.
Declares Ye shall know the truth
the truth shall make ye free.
Mama rode construction elevator
up it's bones, nineteen thirty
something, called it New Main
until she died in year two thousand.
I beamed pride when I used the key
to my carrel in its book-lined stacks,
like my Daddy, like my daughter.
Brilliant burnt orange for football victories,
Stained blood red when mad gunman
used it's height to facilitate slaughter.
Scene for study breaks, suicides, proposals,
Back drop for generations of graduations.
I look for it every time I walk up the hill
to the library, family landmark in space
time, memory, tradition, as long as I live..
University of Texas Tower.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks,
April 5, 2009

Snowy Owl

Shadow of death, silent as breath,
White on white, soul of night
New moon dreamer, star namer,
Omen caller, pattern closer,
Who hooter, I listen for my name.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks
April 4, 2009

Circles

The problem with hope is disappointment.
The problem with disappointment is hope.
The problem with love is keeping boundaries.
The problem with keeping boundaries is love.
The problem with life is the power of death.
The problem with death is the force of life.

Victoria Hendricks, April 3, 2009

I could be frustrated tonight but somehow I'm not. The carpet is being pulled up in my office tomorrow and I may not get replacement carpet until the middle of next week. It is going to be odd working around the mess - using partner's offices, maybe seeing some folks at home next week - but it just doesn't seem to bother me. And little things can bother me. Glad this one doesn't.

Bob's fourth graders successfully reenacted the seige of the Alamo for the PTA meeting tonight and got good attendance and good comments from teachers and parents. It was a challenge to keep the very exuberant and noisy kids on task and moderately civilized, but Bob managed it. I love the way he does his work.

The poetry prompt was to write about the experience of being an outsider and this is what I came up with. I know I'm on a soap box about isolation in public places, but it just really bothers me.

On the Bus

Ear buds, Ipods, cell phones,
portable barriers separate
passengers, each outside
all others' reach. Collars up,
heads down, eyes blank,
each outsider an I, no us.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks

Good day, happy at work even with the furniture out and about all over the place because of the flooding. Bluebonnets are popping up all over after last week's rain. The poetry prompt was to write an origin poem and I wrote about the origin of my marriage with Bob.

Unexpected Origin

First time we met, at a party neither
of us planned to attend, we talked
nonstop five hours about books, music,
family, hopes, fears, hopes, life, death.

First time we met I was happily married,
weeks away from my second pregnancy,
deep in motherhood, grad school. You lived
with your Golden Retriever, worked, hiked, read.

First time we met I confided in a mutual friend
you were someone I could have married.
The day of my husband's funeral, our friend
shocked herself, told me you were still single.

First time we met, I didn't believe in fate,
destiny, soul mates. Twenty eight years
later, I nuzzle your familiar neck, thankful
mystery unfolds independent of belief.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks, April 1, 2009

It is an odd time - out of pattern. I have all the furniture moved away from a big wet spot in my carpet at work (to keep the wood from being damaged by the moisture) and will be getting new carpet Monday. Apparently the roofers made a mistake with the new roof, something about the gutters, and water seeped down inside the walls when it rained last week and made the floors wet. Bob is working hard on a script for an Alamo battle reenact ion for his kids to do at the PTA meeting Thursday night. I'm sitting up late waiting for him to send me a draft to edit and admire. K.K. and I are both looking forward to the weekend, when we will have some time alone together, visit Katz' (which never klozes) for the first time this year, go clothes shopping and book shopping, visit the farmers' market and go to an original ballet at her company's studio theatre. I have trash cans full of weeds lined up by the curb and plan to do a little more weeding in the morning before work. The garden, so far, grows and the babies' trees thrive. Tomorrow begins the April poem a day challenge on Poetic Asides, a writing blog I follow. I intend to write my poem a day to the prompt of the poet in charge of that blog, Robert Lee Brewer. I'll post my poems here - and have one from today for a head start.

In Justice

Justice is a valuable concept,
essential in human affairs,
crucial in creation and mediation
of games, rules, laws, structures.

Justice is a dangerous concept
when applied to cosmic questions
irrelevant to who starves, feasts,
suffers, dances, cries, lives, dies

Victoria Hendricks March 31, 2009

I also want to start posting quotes again and will today, with one new to me:

A hero is someone who understands the responsibility that comes with his freedom.
Bob Dylan

Amazing weekend. We planted the name trees for the new babies - apples - Israerli apples for Liam and Fugi apples for Andrea. It was wonderful having a hoie house and yard full of three generations of local family. We also got the garden laid - The kids are great help, especially Danny. I hope we have a more productive garden than last year. I need to keep at the watering after it gets hot.

Quiet tonight. I worked a long day - sad health news from both friends and family members. Beautiful weather though, clear blue after yesterday's storm and a morning and afternoon of hard rain. I'm beginning to see more kinds of wildflowers in more plces - still not nearly full spring. I hope for more bursts of color after all that rain. My brain is tired tonight.

I didn't get to finish preparing the garden today because it poured rain - but didn't hail like at the girls' houses. Joanna described piles of ping pong ball sized hail on the swing set and all over the yard - striking looking and a little alarming.I learned that both of the new babies had ingrown toe nails this week. Joanna fixed Andrea's and, at Ruth's request, also fixed Liam's. I don't remember ingrown toenails on babies.

Bob and I are planning a big road trip for July. I've pretty much decided to take the whole month off. We have reservations already at Yellowstone and he north rim of the Grand Canyon! . We will also go to Bryce Canyon, which I have not seen. I'm really excited. We will take the KDZ with us, Bob's choice for his sixtieth birthday summer,

Good work day and good evening - tired now but happily tired. I got most of the weeds out of the garden in preparation for planting this weekend. Drizzly rain made the soil easier to work - and I hope we are moving out of drought. I've mostly put away the beautiful clothes Ruth handed down to me and wore a yellow and peach outfit of hers/mine today that made me smile.

I had an interesting conversation today with a younger therapist friend who says that her teen age clients seem to have a whole different culture around electronic communication. Now I'm sitting here on my blog - obviously a lover of electronic communication - but some of what she said was odd to me - cell phones always on, including at the table at meals, constant IM's, a "rule" that if you don't respond to a text message in fifteen minutes you are ignoring the sender - not good manners. She says some young people communicate mostly by text, more than in real life.

I'm very much aware I have a twentieth century mind.

Back to work in the morning. I had a great time at Ruth and Chris and Liam's house last night and today. I was "hands" for Ruth while she nursed Liam - helped pull up bushes as I wote last night and then today did closet reorganization and garnered some gorgeous Ruth hand-me-downs. She has great taste. I also got to cuddle and play with sweet Liam - asleep and awake - to see the way Ruth reads his texture books with him, talks to him, adores him. We had a very happy day.

I'm writing tonight on Ruth's amazing fast computer. I came over after lunch(wonderful birthday lunch at Ruth's favorite Hula Hut) and helped her dig a bunch of dead buches out of the front flowerbed - hard to do with babe in arms. She needed extra hands. Chris was very busy pouring concrete to improve their front walk. We got all the sticks and roots out - Go us! Liam is more darling every time I see him - looking around at his world with increasing interest. Six weeks old - a real baby, not a neonate. I was in this hhouse as they set up to have a baby live here, item by item and now it's such a treat to see little Liam using the swing, the boppy pillow - all the things chosen for him with so much love.

It's Ruthie's birthday. She doesn't even think of herself as Ruthie anymore than I think of myself as Vicki. We've both outgrown our childhood names. She is two years younger than I was when she was born. SHE IS A MOM!!!!!! Last birthday with her and Chris was sad - honored but sad - just ten days after Mira died. Bob and I took them out to dinner. Tomorrow we will take them out to lunch and LIAM will be with us - live, sweet or grouchy, LIVE, present. I love you Ru-hoo. (You'll never outgrow that one) And I respect you immensely Ruth, wife of Chris, mother of Mira and Liam. You are a blessing every day.

Spring break is half over and I am chasing my tail (very happily though). I have so much to write and don't want to take the time to write it. I want to keep enjoying having Bob home, and I will, of course. I probably should have just canceled work this week, but I wanted to save my opportunities to be out of the office for summer. If I'm gone too much it's hard on my clients. Anyway, I'll hit a few highlights here - hope to fill in details later.

Saturday - Morning walk in the neighborhood with Bill Mary Lee and Lobo - great conversations, and Bill can still balance on curbs with ease and grace! Afternoon, Mary Lee and I observed half of K.K.'s jazz dance class from the glass cage above - lots of stretches and then some dancing. Mary Lee got to meet K.K.'s beloved teacher, Rocker, and to observe other beloved teacher Danny teaching a kid's tap class. While we were at ballet Austin, Bill visited with Ruth, Chris and Liam. Later in the afternoon Joanna, Tracy, the boys and Andrea Grace joined the party - much eating, talking, play, laughter, and passing around of babies. At one point I sat on the bench in the front yard with a baby in each arm and several cameras aimed at us - Fun. After the young families went home Bob, Bill, Mary lee and I had more good deep talk.

Sunday - Again Bill, Mary Lee and I started with a morning walk (Lobo too). This time some of the talk was about the shooting almost two years ago at Virginia Tech, and the responses to that horror. The young families joined us later in the day for food, talk and play.

Monday-Bob and I took Bill and Mary Lee to the airport early, then drove out to Round Rock to get the big grand kids and the van so we could have K.K.'s friend Ian join us for a hike. We went out to Pedernales Falls State park and hiked along the "green glass river." Spring is still elusive - just the barest promise of needles on a few of the bald cypresses and no wild flowers yet, even after several days of good rain. It was a joy hiking with the kids, all four. Ian fits well into our family group - likes doing what we do - and he and k.K. are sweet together.

Tuesday - WORK! WORK! WORK! I was dead tired by the end of the day and Bob took me out for Indian food - madras soup is my current favorite comfort food I think. Or maybe ginger snaps. At this moment I'm craving ginger snaps big time. After I revived a little Bob and I watched the movie Milk about the gay San Francisco supervisor who was killed in the seventies - strong film. Sac news was that Mort Satten, psychodramatist, friend, mentor - one of my personal heroes, died of his lung cancer after a long fight. Mort deserves his own blog entry and he'll get it, but tomorrow, not tonight.

Today, Wednesday - Really great day. I'm so glad I took it off. We slept late, had breakfast at home, went to my office to get jewelry together for the friend who is taking it to a motor cycle race in Del Rio to sell as much as she can. Joanna and Andrea met us at the office so Joanna could pick out some jewelry and we had lunch with them at Soup R Salad - such a treat to have that relaxed time with them. Later in the day Bob and I watched the movie Pearl Harbor, which moved us and solidified our knowledge of the events of that "day of infamy." Bob checked details on the Internet after the film and confirmed the correctness of the history. We had a simple supper, made a dent in our pile of laundry, and took an evening walk down at Town Lake - enjoyed reflections of city skyline in the water.

It is spring break! Bob is home and Bill and Mary Lee ( his brother and wife) are visiting from Virginia and we have already ad some deep talks - such good people to be related to Tomorrow they will meet the new babies - Hooray! THey smile so softly when they hear about those little ones. Even though it was cold and wet today, I saw more blue bonnets. I hope the rain really brings out the wild flowers.

I hear stories of peple's anxiety and suffering around economic issues every day at work. And yet I feel hopeful. I keep seeing this crisis as something to push off against, not something that will swallow us. The following story 9from the White House blog both highlights the problem and feels solution focused.

courtesy of the LA Times:

Chris Schultz breaks down as he worries that his younger brothers will become homeless because his family is four months behind in rent.

Evelyn Aguilar's home was foreclosed, so her family is among a dozen people sharing a one-bedroom apartment.

Victoria Gonzalez may delay college for a year to support her family.

These students, all 17, and 14 of their classmates tell their tales in "Is Anybody Listening?", a nine-minute video made by students at Village Academy High School in Pomona. The production quality is minimal; students speak directly to the camera in front of a blue background, laced with footage of foreclosed homes, abandoned storefronts and others advertising going-out-of-business sales.

But the tales of families dealing with the economic crisis are deeply personal.

This week, in his first major speech on education since taking office, President Obama described the video and spoke directly to the Pomona students.

"I am listening. We are listening. America is listening," the president said. "And we are not going to rest until your parents can keep their jobs, your families can keep their homes, and you can focus on what you should be focusing on: your own education."

Although the subject is dispiriting, the story of how the documentary came to be made at a low-income yet high-achieving public school -- and ended up in a speech by the president -- is extraordinary. Read the rest, or watch the video.

The moon is one day past full - was beautiful last night rising pink, then lemon yellow. Redbuds are just past peak - beginning to leaf out. I saw my first blue bonnets yesterday in a yard - not wild, watered. Today you'd think it was still February - forty three and raining. The next few days will be the same.

Mira died a year ago today. I keep reliving the days around her death - the sadness - especially the sadness and strength of Ruth and Chriss on Ruth's birthday and at Passover. Now those events are coming up again, and we will have Liam with us, warm, sweet, live (I trust). So much changes. This year particularly has brought so many changes. The first flock of grand children is really growing up and this second flock, I'm just getting to know (barely).

I'm changing my blogs at this time of changing seasons and changing family structure. I'm closing the "One Step Removed" blog which I started after Mira's death and starting a new blog Family Forward and Back for grandchildren stories, memories, recipes, old letters, I'm not sure quite what. This blog, AND NOW, I'll keep, and will keep it's content more general, philosophical, poetic, quote filled, literary (again, who knows exactly?) I'm in the mood for change.

It's a good disjointed evening here - time feels out of joint with time change - just finished writer's group. i'm making jewelry, catching up with emails - feel out of sync a little, but happy. It's also Purim , Jewish holiday of irony, not taking oneself too seriously while taking injustice in the world seriously. i wrote a Purim poem.

Purim

I didn't grow up in an Orthodox neighborhood
where at Purim every little girl dresses in purple
and parades as Queen Esther. I don't have
seven recipes for hamen tashen, or even one.
I don't tell jokes and don't get drunk and can't sing
well enough to parody bad singing in the Purim spiel,
but I know paradox, irony, mystery, humility,
don't take myself so seriously, know there is no
one right way and yet know that evil does exist
does threaten, and demands identification.
But when? How? Purim calls me to take
that question seriously. More irony. Purim.

This weekend was so busy I didn't sit to type and now I'm tired and full of memories and almost don't want to try to bother to capture them - but it feels wrong to let so sweet a time flow through my fingers and memory - so I'll hit the high spots. Ruth and Chris took Liam to synagogue on Friday night and the rabbi asked us to come forward and receive the beautiful certificate of naming he had made for our little guy - Liam Chaim - loved in his congregation Our community, like every other group, is feeling the anxiety of the economic downturn, talking of shortened hours, jobs lost or in danger, valuing every success and every relationship. I bond slowly with congregations, but I am feeling more bonded with this one than I have with any in a long time. Ruth and Chris are so easy with Liam, and he with them. Joanna's whole family just wraps little Andrea in love - Bob and I had time with both babies - time to appreciate them still so tiny new but growing ind more complete than even last weekend - so sweet. We also hiked with the bigger grand kids today, a pleasant, though warm, three miles at McKinney falls - a trail we usually don't choose and enjoyed. The lack of wild flowers is a little disturbing in that park given the warm temperatures - Bob thinks it has just been too dry. it's supposed to rain this week and I hope it does.

I saw blue eyed grass today and mealy sage - think I want to make a list of wildflowers I see this spring with the dates of first appearance. My work day was more challenging than usual - a need to reprogram our phone system was pressing, but was completed. Several friends are ill or facing difficult diagnosies, which has me in prayerful mode. I saw pictures from Liam's naming - WOW! Life is so rich and varied and I'm not in profound mode - just here.

The last several mornings I've awakened to Inca doves cooing in the yard for the first time this new season. Increasing numbers and shades of wild flowers dot my path as I walk - cut leaf daisy now, Mexican hat, beggars' tick, along with the prickly poppy. No bluebonnets yet, but soon. We've had beautiful pink sunsets the last four evenings and last night I got home from work in time to take a work in the neighborhood, Now I almost wish I hadn't because of a distressing sight in the neighborhood - a poster board taped to bumper of pick up truck on the street behind my house. It was handwritten with the horrible slogan "God damn Barack Obama - Socialist Pig destroying America. God bless true Americans," It was all decorated with American flags. The hate in it freaked me out. I don't like it that my back yard touches the back yard of someone with such a hateful attitude. It bothered me more than a commercial sticker would have, because of the degree of effort involved in creating it - though I guess a commercial sticker would imply that more people shared the sentiment. The pink sunset and Venus setting, half moon high touched me deeply - but so did the hate. Part of me wants to knock on the door - ask questions, but I won't. Odd that the doves live in my yard and in the yard of the person who wrote those hateful words - no fence or feeling confining them.

I really enjoyed today - domestic day - cleaning, cooking, a walk up the hill to the store (Cut leaf daisies are out - bright yellow - new addition to our early spring palate.) Tonight I fixed a simple supper for old friends Jean and Mark - chili, salad, strawberries, cornbreat, chocolate cake. Mark had been craving chili. I really enjoy cooking for friends and getting out the good china - want to do this more often for more people - just not huge roups at once. Tonight was sweet - nothing like forty year friendships!

What a weekend! Yesterday Joanna brought baby Andrea over while K.K. danced jazz, so now both newest grandchilden have been at our house. Andrea was an utter pink bundled joy of cuddly baby. Jo and I even took her - ll wrapped up in the cool afternoon - on a walk to and back from the elementary school her mommy used to attend. I like living in the same neighborhood across generations, having familiar landmarks. It was especially sweet that Bob came home while Andrea and Joanna were here and got to snuggle the former and talk movies with the latter.

Yesterday evening at the symphony with Lord and Lady Galway playing their golden flutes was just incandescent. I am astonsished when anyone does anything that well. And the additional joy of sharing the symphony experience with K.K. and her friend Ian put it pretty much over the top. We were anxious about being late, the evening was COLD and the walk long in our light coats and with K.K. in uncomfortable shoes which she eventually kicked off on the stairs, but in the end the performance and the experience of sharing it with the two young people was just great. I felt so tender toward K.K. when we brought her back to our house after taking Ian home and she changed out of her gorgeous black dress into pajama pants and an oversized jaguar T shirt to be more comfortable on the ride back to her house and bed. Bob put more Mozart flute music on in the car, and K.K. dozed and smiled, smiled and dozed - just a magical evening.

This morning Bob and I watched an excelllent performance of Chekov's "The Seagull" on video - such a sad play about people making poor choices out of ego. It startles me a little that when I first read the play as a young woman I didn't react as strongly as I do now against the choices, didn't see as clearly that they were choices.

This afternoon Bob and I watched the Texas Longhorns win a no hitter against Penn State - slways a kick to see excellence at that level. I laughed at myself because of the extent to which I subscribe to the superstition that talking about a no hitter jinxes the pitcher. The man behind me kept talking loudly about NOT talking about what was clearly (he he) happening and I had to resist strongly the urge to yell at him to SHUT UP!