Leave Houston in Houston

Why is it that when people from large urban areas discover a
quaint little town and decide to move there and have a second home/start a
business they envitability  turn the wonderful little town into the urban mess
they were trying flee?

Ode to a Tomato

I come to my garden, expectantly.  Opening the rusty gate with my basket I know you are waiting for me.  I will not be disappointed.  I have watched over you many weeks.  As an anxious bridegroom tends his bride, I have vanquished the malevolent hornworm that would rob you of you precious
nutrients.  I have searched for them high and low and plucked them and rescued you.
Too many times you have tried to reach beyond you limits, not knowing that to do so would result in less fruit, so I have pruned back your
overgrowth.  Even then you yielded up a sweet intoxicating fragrance known only to tomato gardeners staining my hands
emerald.  Forgive me.

A New Easter Frock

This week I indulged in something I have not done in years. I bought a new Easter dress.  I know, I know. You may think I am giving into the crass commercialism of another religious holiday by “buying stuff”.  I  view  it however as much more than that.  I feel as though I have something in common with Lazarus.

I have not had a new Easter dress in years, rationalizing that my dresses or outfits that I wore to church services were just fine.  In fact, this is the first new dress I have bought in quite a while.   I have become a fan of thrift stores and vintage wear.  I love a bargain and it pains me to pay full price for a piece of clothing, knowing that it was made  over seas by someone who only earned a pittance to sew it.  I grew up wearing my older sister’s hand me downs  but one thing my parents always made sure of was that we each had a new Easter outfit of our own for  Easter Sunday from hat to shoes. Many Easter Sunday’s the weather being temperamental, I would have to wear my old winter coat over my new Easter dress, that went with my Easter shoes and Easter purse and Easter socks, and Easter hat! 

Styles change, time passes, and other things take precedence.  Like mortgage payments, doctor bills, brake shoes and so on.  But with time, life has a way of catching up with you and if you don’t stop to celebrate the little things and give thanks and spend out as Gretchen Rubin calls it in The Happiness Project, you become a drudge.  And you miss out on joy.

After what seems like a long cold winter in Texas with cold snaps in the single digits, the land that I love is coming back to life; with a vigor.  The trees are bedecked in their new green lacy dresses and spring wildflowers are peeking out where ever a lawnmower has not found them.  Bluebonnets, buttercups, Indian paintbrushes, primroses, winecups and wild daisies of every color imaginable are dotting the landscapes.  The breezes are blowing warm, sometimes gusty with strong Texas thunderstorms, and that makes it even more thrilling! 

My daughter commented that she heard the hummingbirds the other day, so I quickly filled my hummingbird feeder and hung it on the back porch and within ten minutes had a male ruby throat hummer drinking greedily from it. 

It’s as if Life has been breathed back into the earth after being asleep for so many months of cold, colorless winter.

I have so much to be thankful for this year.  I am celebrating another year of my husband being cancer free.  My children are happy and healthy.  I am blessed. 

In John 11: 44 Jesus said to the crowd after he had raised Lazarus from the dead, “Take off the grave-clothes and let him go”.  I imagine that Lazarus got a really cool robe.

Throw Away Your Census!

This week the 2010 census form arrived in my mailbox.  Being the dutiful civil servant that I am I opened it and began to read the instructions and was going to complete it when something in my brain said “Wait, what are you doing?The blue sheet that accompanies the census explains the reason for the census is to make a count every ten years so that “the government” (that’s us, folks) will have a better idea of how many representatives to have in congress.  It goes on to say that the amount of government money your neighborhood receives also depends on these answers and that the money is used for services for children and the elderly, roads and many other local needs.   

Hollywood Haters

Yesterday I endured almost three hours of the latest assault from Hollywood onto the public.  Yes,  folks, I’m talking about AVATAR.  In case you haven’t  seen it, it’s about how terrible the military is and all they want to do is join with the industrial complex  to rape another world of its precious natural resources and if the indigenous people object to it, well… then, they’ll just be wiped out.  Really?  Is that the best you can do?  I must admit the 3-D effects were kind of interesting at first.  It was neat to see the credits for the movie to seem to “hang” in the middle of the theater and what seemed like dandelion seeds float by, but after a while, it grew tiresome having  a big flying bird like  a pterodactyl  flying by and swords and marine heads jutting out at you. 

Zooming by Zoomba

In my quest to be healthier I have joined the local YMCA.  This is an update on my progress.  I have engaged in weight training on a regular basis, cardio training on the treadmill either at the Y, or at home, taken a Pilates class and Yoga and something called Zoomba.  The class was described as a cardio workout to salsa, cha-cha, hip-hop, and other fast paced music.  I love to dance and for many years in the PAST, I was very active in step aerobics.  Notice the emphasis on Past.  I have always had an interest in physical fitness and exercised regularly.  When I had a severe post partum depression with my second child, my husband purchased me a membership at Figure World, where I would go each day to exercise, swim and sweat with all the other women.  That shows how much things have changed, when Figure World was a exercise spa for women only!

A few years later I discovered Jane Fonda and feelin’ the burn.  Then step aerobics.  I had the leotard, tights and leg warmers.  Yep, folks, it was a real blast from the past.  So naturally when I heard about  Zoomba, I thought to myself, “No Problem!”

Well, let me tell you something…my knees had something different to say about it.  After Zoomba, it was hard to walk for several days and ibuprofen became my drug of choice.  I love Yoga, and Pilates and working with weights. I love that I will live longer than most women a decade or two ago.  I love that I can hike all over Italy or take a train in a foreign country and learn a new language in my mid 50′s and not think that I “can’t do it”.  I love it that people ask me if I have children in school when my children are grown and of the age to have children of their own.  I don’t love that my body is rebelling is some ways to say “No!” “Zoomba, Bad”!  It’s amazing how we underestimate what we can and can not do and how we feel.  Inside I am still a 20 something, but realistically I know I am really a 50 something, no matter what the advertisers say about the 50 being the new 30.  Still I know staying active, eating right and keeping a good attitude will go a long way to keep me young. 

But that’s okay.  I am still able to work out, lift weights, work in the garden, slow dance with my husband, and throw a fantastic party. I love being a woman.  Some things are worth passing up. With all I have, zoomba is a small thing.

Working Out

January is not my favorite month. 

In fact, I think I could say that I dislike January more than any other month of the year.  It’s just that nothing special happens in January.  It’s hard to get excited about  a January white sale  anymore, when white sales occur year-round and the only other thing that is notable is that most working stiffs get their W-2′s by the end of January and see how MUCH of the year they worked for Uncle Sam.  The decorations of the holidays have been packed away, and credit card bills are arriving reminding you that it is now time to remember that ooey gooey feeling you got when you picked out all those gifts for your loved ones instead of the sinking feeling you have looking at the bill.  Ah….January!

Well, I have just the thing to counter my January morass.  I joined the local YMCA.  I know, I know.  Most people join a gym in January only to never darken the doors again by March.  This however will be  an ongoing post of how I am doing.  My goal is  to build my upper body strength and reverse some bone loss.  And maybe, just maybe get rid of a belly roll.  I have discovered sore muscles that I didn’t know I had, and discovered exercises that I know I shouldn’t be doing!  But all in all, it is loads of fun.  The Y has all the equipment I could ever use or need and the philosophy of the Y is also neat.  If you can’t afford to join, you can still join.  They are so committed to physical fitness, they want everyone exercising!  All you need is proof of income and you’re in. 

The Y provides interesting people watching . There are hard-core gym junkies and soccer mom socialites.  There are grandma’s that are staying flexible and strong and bikers that pump iron alongside teachers and techies.  Working out has made me happier too.  Research has proven that exercise raises your endorphin levels and I believe I am benefiting from it. 

Choosing our frame of mind helps also.  I am choosing to “work out” what I am doing.  This means that if I am in a blue mood, I ask myself, “is my mood affecting the circumstance , or am I letting the circumstance affect my mood?”  I am starting to reassess who I am and what I want this year.  So much happened in 2009.  I can’t wait to see what 2010 has in store.  I feel stronger already!

Welcome to 1970

Being a “baby boomer”, I have seen a lot of fashions come and go.  Some of the “new fashions” such as skinny jeans are just jeans that were worn in the ’60′s before bell bottoms were invented.  I know because my husband wore them and refused to wear bell bottoms for many years until he finally surrendered to the times.  Beaded necklaces, tie dye t-shirts, mini skirts; you name it. It’s been in and out.  I recently read a magazine where all the fashion models were wearing fashions from bakelite jewelery from the 1940′s to platform shoes from the 1970′s to even padded shoulders from the 1980′s! 

The Joy of Play

It’s amazing to see what people will do for a little prize; a trinket, a string of beads, a piece of candy all in the name of play.  Thursday night our ESL group had a volunteer appreciation dinner for all the students, tutors, and board members.  We had ordered in sandwiches and soft drinks and encouraged the students and board members to mingle and eat together.  Attendance has been low lately.  Some theorize it is because one or more of the students was picked up by immigration.  When this happens, the students do not come out to the library for English lessons for quite a while.   We are not really sure  this is the reason,  but the students are slowly starting to come back for lessons. 

The games were played in three rooms; Pictionary, Taboo and one I made up with a ball and “name that word” with me saying it in English and the students repeating it in Spanish .  After awhile, the three groups would change and we would start all over again. Each time someone got a right word, the student would get a piece of chocolate or a prize of some kind.  This went on for a while until another game was introduced.  It was the equivalent of musical chairs only without the music.  The group were divided up into three colors and with one less chair than participants.  One player would stand in the middle and call out a color and that color would have to change chairs.  Some times two colors were called out and   some times it was called out “Fruitbasket turnover” and everyone had to grab a new chair.  It was a frenzy of laughing and diving for a chair.  As the evening wore on, “Fruitbasket turnover” eventually became  called “Basketball!”

 My Spanish-speaking friends and my daughter who had come up to help me for the night and teachers  were all playing.  One Spanish older man, so polite would never try to force his way into a chair, was always left standing.  Small and diminutive, the harsh lines of the sun  and work  were written on his face but he smiled  as he played.  Polite, shy Mr. Cortez, not five feet, seven inches with greying hair but here he was playing with us young and old and we loved him for it.

 There is an ecstasy in paying attention.  As we played and laughed and jostled each other for a chair, I didn’t see brown or white or middle class or have’s or have-nots.  We were just God’s children playing.  The momentary problems of the day fell away and the things that separate so often broke down. 

 

The Moon is Round

In my search to find what was next on the horizon after a couple of career changes, I embarked upon the career path of “alternative teacher”.  There are many programs out there and I embraced one with all the gusto I give any project, 110%.  After completing all the required courses, I found  the schools in the  area I live  are flooded with recent  eager graduates  filled with all the wisdom of the  four universities that already have their teaching degrees and their student teaching under their belt.  In order to be “certified”, a school would have to hire me “uncertified” and allow me to teach a year, then I would be “certified”.  Needless to say, I am deemed “highly qualified”, but unemployable.  I have no problem getting lots of substitute teaching jobs and I rarely see the same young teachers in their heels and pencil skirts  that are hired straight out of college from one year to the next.  After interviewing and applying for over two years, I found the alternative teaching school had dropped me from the program citing that I have failed to complete the program by not finding a teaching  job in 2 years!  The only option offered to me was to start their program all over again!  I said, “No thanks.”

Since that time, I have substitute taught in the public schools and pretty much given up on my “dream” of becoming a teacher.  But in my heart, I know I am a teacher, whether I have the piece of paper that says I am or not.  When I am able to explain something to a child in a classroom regarding fractions and see the light come on in her face for the first time or how decimals work and equate it to money and make that connection to a middle schooler, I know that I can teach. When a I listen to a child explain to me in an essay how the word “sacrifice” means taking the rap so your little brother won’t go to juvenile detention, I know I am making a difference.

About two months ago, I volunteered to teach English to Spanish speakers in my hometown.  This is a stretch for me, because I don’t speak Spanish.  I was told I didn’t have to, it would help, but wasn’t necessary.  Since that time, I have learned how to see just how difficult English really is and how much I have to learn.  I am learning Spanish from a web site, but it is formal Spanish, so my students often give me the Tex-Mex version of their Spanish and very curious looks when I try to say something for the first time.  It is a learning experience for both of us!    I am learning how hard they work and I am ashamed to say how  invisible  they were to me.  I am falling in love with the language and with my students.  They come after working all day to learn English.  They come with their children or their spouses who do speak English so they can attend parent conferences, get better jobs, and move up into a different socio-econonmic class. 

Some of my students love the computer, some have very little computer skills.  I have made flash cards for them, and we have work books, work sheets, and the Rosetta stone.  However, the best learning skill for beginning speakers is to bring objects and let the students pick something that looks interesting out of the pile and then “talk” about it. By that I mean, I say simple sentences about the object and pass it to the next student who then repeats it and passes it to the next student and passes it on back to me.  We do this over and over.  The theory is that a language is learned by hearing before you see it written. 

In my quest to become a teacher I attended a Sally Ride conference at NASA about 2 years ago.  My sweet husband even went with me and attended the classes I couldn’t.    One of the goodies I got from the conference was an earth pillow with a little moon that was tucked inside.  I took that last week along with other objects.  Of course, that is what the students wanted to use, so we talked about the earth, the colors on the earth, where the United States is, where Mexico is, etc.   As we passed the earth pillow around with its blues, greens, reds and yellows it was as if we were realizing how small this little world really is.  And how we are all one part of it. 

One of the statements was “I like to look at the moon” and the last was “the moon is round”.  Sounds simple.  It should be.  These are students that don’t speak English.  My instructor says “You need to give them one thing they can leave with, that they can own and say and practice”. 

It was getting close to closing time and I had left them with some work sheets and was checking on some other students and then they were packed up and ready to go.  I said goodnight and looked over to Juanna and Lorenzo and he smiled at me as he said “the moon is round”.