Lunch

Jessica: *belch*
David: (disgusted) JESSIE! You are a woman. You do not burp.
Jessica: Sexist.
David: Who said anything about sex? Oh, yeah remember the time I saw mom and dad kissing, well you know... sick. Hey mom, you should have another baby. As long as its a girl.

Knowing child. Funny lunch.

I know + I feel = I am

Therapy.

Some love the flowers because they hold them in their hands. And some love the flowers because they don't. It's the negative print. Both love. I've learned as much about what I love from what I haven't experienced as from what I have.
Music is for that I think. Music is for feeling things that don't belong to us. Music is so we can dance in emotions that won't naturally find us. It speaks and we feel what we haven't experienced.

Falling in love is finding a defining relationship.

We have to qualify the raw information we get from God with a human sieve. That's allowed. And sometimes it's confusing. And that's allowed too.

Some relationships can't be put in human boxes. We should be honored to find some of those in our life's work.

The path to happiness is through the sadness.

I love. Not always well. Not always selflessly. Not always in the right language. Not always enough. I love. I am blessed.

Olfaction

Great Salt Lake - the warm wind wafts over the lake in the spring and summer and makes me think of the ocean. Undoubtedly the salt. "Lake stink". I have to admit it makes me meloncholy for Carmel Meadows.

Some families have a smell. On more than one occasion we've identified an errant article of clothing left in the house by smelling it and determining its master. Just like dogs do. We're cool like dogs.

I was so in love with a boy when I was 14 that to this day the fragrance of the laundry detergent that his mother used at the time still reminds me of him.

There is no theory that explains olfactory perception completely. In other words, no one is completely sure how we smell. But a common thought is that our olfactory neurons are each set up to sense a certain molecule and when that airborne molecule fits that particular nerve, we detect it. So, does that mean we are pre-determined smellers? Yes - that's why humans smell fewer things than other mammals. We have fewer olfactory possibilities. Smell is our most potent sense since the neurons are hardwired straight into the brain - there isn't a translating organ as in our other senses. Scent=pure reaction. The limbic system in the brain is where we sense odors, and it's also the area that stores memory and controls emotion. Everything all bunched up together is probably why aroma triggers strong memory and emotion.

My mother-in-law doesn't have a sense of smell. She thought it would be something she would eventually learn to do. She never did. Sometimes dangerous - can't smell smoke. Sometimes great - can't smell poop. Sometimes sad - can't smell pine. And sometimes really, really tragic - she can't tell the difference between some tastes for example. The ones that have a lot to do with smell - pinenuts vs. hazelnuts, root beer vs. dr pepper, pesto vs. garlic, etc. Rich can't smell well either, but his is due to injury, not birth defect. When he does smell something it's very exciting. To me. I should clarify - exciting to me. Not really to him. He's fairly indifferent.

Puke stench stays around. Strong that is.

Nutmeg is for fall and cinnamon is for winter. Lavender is for spring and cotton is for summer. I can remember how my grandma's lotion smelled. And baking bread still reminds me of the bakery near Weisserstein. Brotchen.

Coffee. This one is loaded. The very first whiff of coffee smells like an airplane, and I feel the rush of traveling somewhere. This must be from my childhood. But then I go on an olfactory ride through my grandparents house in Logan and then to Peter's house in Marina, and usually I land there. Cause it's so pleasant - I just stay.

Fish - odd. I don't like fish to eat. But the smell of fish delights me. Usually. When it's the fresh smell - and the stronger the better. San Francisco Fisherman's Wharf - LOVE IT. (I don't however like the smell of tuna fish in the bowl left in the bedroom - not a smell I associate with anything having to do with anything else having to do with the bedroom.)

Pheramones. Very important. Very real. Clean smells. yes. definitely.

Rain. You can smell the dust as it is pushed out of the sky. Warm rain. Can't even begin....

What works...

Listening to Turandot while running on the treadmill. Works for re-energizing. Works for dragging out all of the left over emotions from the day. They just seem to come pouring out and then you get to run all over them and grind them down into a powder of importantlessness. Incredible.

Driving to the corner canyon after a glorious snow storm. Works for cooped up. Breathtaking. I can't BELIEVE that I live here.

One Note Samba for instant summer.

In n out burger fries for ruining the week's diet, and the Turandot on the treadmill. Oh well.

David using the word "plump" in a sentence. This works for those feelings of disconnect between mom and child after a busy, busy week. Laughter ensues and all of those feelings of complete adoration sweep over you and there's squeezing and more laughter and connection. Blessed connection.

My ipod for an alarm clock. I set it for every 10 minutes and I choose a different sound for each time. I can now determine the time without looking at the ipod - just based on the sound it makes. 6:30am is the worst - doorbell. It gets my heart racing every time.

Doing the dishes. This works for getting the kitchen clean. What is up with house work and me? Right NOW in my living room are 3 coats, 7 socks, 2 lesson manuals, 1 ap american history text, probably 29 pieces of lined paper - some written upon, some blank, 47 unpaid bills, SOTW score, lipstick, 6 tix to the motab concert, various YW posters, a bag with 7 broken cell phones, Matt's beautiful centerpiece, an external hard drive (half under the couch, I'm sure it will go missing in less than 3 hours), Jessie's violin, David's scriputres, a shelf from the hall that Rich is painting, a chocolate advent calendar, a starfish - yes, really, and the music I'm supposed to sing at my grandpa's funeral Monday. I think I'm ok with that. Is that ok?

Sleep. This works for a myriad of things - but most importantly, bringing me to the next day.

Raising eyebrows and pausing. This works for not reacting poorly to ridiculous things that come out of the mouths of 14 year olds.

Paint. For making the house look.... well,..... newer. Newish. Not old. well - not.... really old.

The big house on the hill - for clarity.

Facebook works for feeling frustrated and lonely. Why do I continue?

Making dinner. This works for healing the scars left from days and days of not being home to make breakfast.

Airplane rides. They MUST work for something. I can't wait to find out what. Maine works.

I feel lucky.

I feel lucky that when I start thinking down the wrong path God usually tells me to go to sleep.

I feel lucky that I only have to drive 3 minutes to my place of employment. But it's funny, sometimes (a lot times) I will drive around the neighborhood before going home just to decompress and switch gears, essentially inventing a commute for myself.

I feel lucky that I have an ipod full of every feeling I could possibly want to amplify.

I feel lucky that there are colors and lights and green beads and roses and pears and even swamp grass. There is so much beauty in dressing up the darkness.

I feel lucky that the police officer only gave me a warning.

I feel lucky that there is a boy who loves me even when I don't make dinner or do the laundry or when I cry for dumb reasons and he's so smart that he doesn't let me leave the room sad.

I feel lucky that I know the difference between love and success. I choose love. And you do too kiddo.

I feel lucky that I found my new favorite sweater at the DI.

I feel lucky that Alex is coming in 1.7 weeks.

I feel lucky that Diane and John gave us their treadmill and that I know where to buy Clif bars in bulk.

I feel lucky. And sleepy.

11:50am

11:50am is the hardest part of my day. Well... that's not true entirely. 11:50am is the end of the hardest part of my day and then I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know how to come down. I don't know if I just need to eat, or to sleep, or to take a drive, or how to recover so I can finish the rest of the day. So today I thought I'd try a little self-therapy.
I'm not sure why I have this blog and someday I suppose it might just dissappear and all of these questions that I'm asking myself will continue to knock around in my head, they just won't appear in living black and white.
By 11:50am on a school day I've seen 195 Jr High students come through my room. I try to teach them all something, but most days I worry that I'm missing the mark. Meaning maybe I'm not trying to teach them the most important things. Like the girl who seems quite a bit different than she was in September. She looks at the ground more and won't do her work even with reminders. She often comes in late, again with her head down, and I haven't seen her smile in months. And the truth is what makes it funny in that movie - she wears more and more eye makeup. What is it that she needs to learn? Probably not much of what I've been trying to teach her.
Then there is the boy whose parents got divorced this summer and he just wants to talk. He'll talk about anything - the game last night, the new dress code policy, the homework he left at his dad's new apartment, his sister's dead cat - but what he really wants to know is if he's going to be ok. And I don't know. I don't know if he'll be ok. And what does ok look like really?
There was a sub across the hall yesterday who was a little frazzled and I assured her that as long as no one left bleeding then the day was a success. But as I thought about it, I've had plenty of blood in my classroom, and guess what - we're still ok - even after bleeding for a while.
And of course there is the charming mob of 9th graders that come into my room flirting, flirt continuously through class and leave flirting. It's what they do. And those that aren't flirting - aren't flirting. By choice. It's what they do. It makes me smile and let out huge gasps of air as I try NOT to LOL.
Remember when we were going to observe a moment of silence on Veteran's Day and I was explaining to my 7th graders that they would need to stop what they were doing and be very still and competely quiet and one of the boys in utter earnestness asked "Will we need to hold our breath?" and how I didn't lol then either? I just said "Nope. Not this time." And the other students nodded, like "ok good to know." The remembrance prompts me to lay my head on my desk and close my eyes and yes - laugh in delight and adoration of youth.
So - lunch is over and soon they will come back. The most tricky class coming up - only 14 of them. But the combination of these particular gems is something else. And I will try to teach them the right things. If you can really concentrate on what they need to learn, and not what you think you can teach - it's easier. But I tell you what, your heart gets a work out.
Have I recovered?