Dumb.

I read a book last week about health in the last third of your life.

I’m left wondering whether or not I’m in the last third of my life.

I suppose if I die by the time I’m 60, then yes – the next twenty

years will be the last third of my life. But my plan is to live well into my 90’s

(and really, why not to 100? but after that seems excessive and kind

of braggy) and so I won’t be entering the last third of my life until

I’m 60 and so that means that right now I’m not even half way

finished. Thinking that I might learn again as much as I’ve learned

so far is all at once thrilling, exhausting, daunting and a mighty

relief. Because really I don’t feel like I know very many things.

Frank Lloyd Wright said “The trick is to grow up without growing old.” (I like so much of what Frank Lloyd Wright did – amazing architect and thinker. I really don’t admire the way he went about loving women.) How are they different?

Kipling’s IF resonates when I think about growing up.

He says you are grown up “if you…

… can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you;


If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,


But make allowance for their doubting too:


If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,


If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;


If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster


And treat those two impostors just the same."

It really is moderation isn’t it?

And moderation with the moderation too. Not

getting caught up, carried away, or drowning in any one thing –

but then, to be sure to experience getting caught up

and carried away – some way, some time.

Richard Dreyfuss said “part of me is still waiting to grow up,

to be an adult, and the other part knows there is no such thing.”

No such thing as a grown up? Someone who is all the way ….

finished? Yes, I agree. ING. It will always be ING.

Sometimes we grow out and sideways and in

circles and upside down even. I suppose it all counts.

I sure hope it does, cause it is hard work – the ING.

We must become a creature that wants to change

and does not fear it.

Every time I sit with my grandmother,

she pats my knee and rocks back and says “well,

everything is going to be just fine.” No matter the topic,

no matter the weight, she knows everything is going

to be just fine. How does she know that? Somewhere in all of

those years, she learned that we can’t own it and we can’t know it

and we can’t even mess it up.

We get to the end of the

movie and realize that it really did end just the way we

thought it would. It took unexpected turns and twists,

but the end was just what we thought it would be.

I’m quite convinced that part of the age game is coping with watching the people

around you age. Nothing makes me feel older than celebrating the

birthday of one of my children. Particularly the oldest and the

youngest. I have been known to pine for more children so that

I could feel younger. If I have an infant in my arms, somehow

I am also at the beginning. Why am I so afraid of being in the middle?

You know – I’d really love a crack at the beginning now that I know

what I know from the middle. But then my middle would be

different because I would change the beginning, and then maybe I wouldn't know what I know from the middle.

Within my social structure, I can find many age groups. Its invigorating and maddening. I spend a lot of time with kids

between 13 and 15, and then add my very own 14, 16 and 17 year olds, and I've got a world teeming with teenagers. They make me doubt my ability to reason. They make me question my every thought and I also

see life afresh and with hope and possibility. And they make me laugh.

Due to unique circumstances I also have a group of friends in their 20’s and early 30’s. This group makes me restless. This is the group that urges me to want to start over and try it again. But I know it would take about 8 tries to really get it right, so I think I’m happier just moving forward. Strangely, I pass around advice to this group. I want to stop. I just want to pat their knees and tell them that everything is going to be alright. They are doing things differently than me and sometimes I reel in jealousy. That’s pretty dumb. I have everything I wish and we don’t all wish the same wishes. But sometimes I wonder if someone else’s wishes would look good on me.

Yep – dumb.

We are dumb.

Born dumb, live dumb, die dumb.

Maybe the secret is to be ok with all the dumb. My dumb – your dumb – his…

And live anyway.

Jump anyway.

Fly anyway.

Cry anyway.

I’m not afraid. Not even of my very own dumb. Well, I’m trying at least. Maybe by the time I’m in my last third… or sixth…. or eighteenth, I won’t be afraid of anything dumb.

Out of the Woods

As Jessie and I observed this evening as we drove past, I haven't been in the school for four days in a row. Wild. I don't think that has happened since last summer. Its wonderful, invigorating, strange and depressing. Not too depressing.

It is always such an interesting transition to come down from a show. Every time I have slept in the last 4 days I have dreamt about the show, or the kids in the show. This morning I had my alarm set and every time it went off I eventually noticed that I was testing myself to see if I could mentally navigate the entire show without missing a scene. Each time the alarm went off, I started again at the beginning and tried to get through it before the snooze wore off. After 8 or 10 times of this I realized what was happening and begged the sleep god to let me rest without the show for a few minutes. This afternoon I got to take a nap - aaahhh - and when I started to wake up I realized I was hearing "I know things now" in my sleep and reblocking the scene. The other night I dreamt about a big fight that all of the kids were having. It goes on and on. So... I suppose it will really be over when I wake up Woodsless one morning.

I guess its not really that I miss the show specifically or the kids or the experience even, but more there is a space in my time, my mind, my heart dare I say, where the show used to be. And now there isn't anything there. What will I put there? How will I fill the void? I started reading a book about exercise and nutrition in the last few days and I guess part of me wants to fill it with that. Heaven knows it will take a monumental amount of emotional energy to find the will power to do some of the physical things I'd like to tackle. I finished the book this afternoon - right before and after dozing off for my nap - and my gut reaction to it was to eat strawberry shortcake for dinner and then 4 or 5 more pieces while I watched 2 1/2 movies before bed. I did walk the hill today. Semi-virtuous.

I'd like to be someone I'm not good at being. An organized and doting house wife and mother. Organized house wife, doting mother. I lack discipline. I'm happy to do the laundry once a week, and clean out a drawer quarterly. I garden every other year, and rotate food storage with about the same amount of frequency. I adore my children. I love having them around when I am doing what I want to do. They are always invited into my life. But I want to be invited into theirs. I want to watch carefully and see what they choose and then help with that. I want to do more than adore and love, -- I want to dote and smother. And I want to do 3.2 loads of laundry each day, make a hot dinner daily, zone clean one area of the house each week, work in the garden 3 hours a week and then 2 hours on Saturday. I want to exercise 45 minutes, 6 days a week, read uplifting books 30-90 minutes a day, clean out the desk and drawers, answer email, work on family history, eat only fruits and vegetables and whole grains found only at Whole Foods, and ....

But I'm afraid of being bored. I want to be good at being bored. It will take some practice. And then I won't be bored. I will be fulfilled. Right? Right. ?

So, this is what may fill the void. All of that stuff. All of the stuff I've pined for over the last 7 months. I finally get to do it.

I wish...

No, I don't wish. I want...

No, I don't want. I am. I will be.

Oh... to be different. To want what is now. What is here. What is mine.

I'm grateful. ......only grateful.

Teaching Tension

Scaffolding is terribly handy when hanging paper chains in a large room.

15 year olds are very smart, very dumb, very emotional, very confused, very devoted, very interesting, very simple, very tender, very flirtatious, very shy, very worried, very thick, very transparent, very energetic, very much alive.

Its really important to know the whole story.

One can stay fairly comfortable with heated seats and the sun roof open.

The difference between 38 degrees and 54 degrees is 16 and the world.

Three weeks is a lifetime away and its right around the corner. Into The Woods will be over and I will get all my time back and lose my identity all at once.

Friends are mostly made of memories.

Its better to wait for an answer than proceed without one.

Saturday was international fanny pack day. So sorry to my English friends. Delightful holiday.

You know you are busy when teeth brushing seems to be the highlight of one's free time. A shower is like a fantasy.

There's nothing that a coat of brown can't make better.

It's amazing when people want to help. It's even more amazing when they actually do.

Spring snow in the morning is fine if there is spring sun in the afternoon.

Have you tried the caramel cheesecake bites at Del Taco? Oh boy.

Rich knows. He just does. Thank heaven.

I have found that in directing Into The Woods with this group of kids, I have spent a lot of time teaching tension. What is it? How do you cope with it? How does the audience feel it? What do they do when they feel it? Why is it imperative to good story telling? What happens when it disappears? Who owns it? Kids spend the majority of their existence avoiding tension. We all do I guess. I'm asking them not only to endure it, but to create it. Some of them are getting really good at it. I hope it is good for them somehow. Its been good for me for sure.

Cleats instead of Biscotti

I usually write about feelings rather than events. Maybe I should try writing about events. But you know, the events in my life aren't that extraordinary. I suppose the feelings in my life aren't that extraordinary either, but they are certainly the part of my life that I don't understand - therefore more interesting.

There are a lot of kids in my life these days. A lot. I dream of having a job where I'm surrounded by grown ups. Lately I've wanted to have a job at a cafe in Salt Lake. Something to leave behind every time I drive home. Quirky co-workers that have entertaining problems - like being in love with their professor at school or trying to convince their brother to move here from Toronto, or deciding whether or not to get a cat or a tattoo. I would love to work at the coffee counter at the SL lib. That is a loaded statement. Why do I want these things? It seems like these are jobs for young people. Do I want to be young? Or experience a different life than I did when I was young? When I was 24 I had 2 kids and was pregnant with my third. I was teaching school at BHS and clipping coupons and hauling big wheels and trikes. And playing in fountains and reading story books. It was a great life. In a thousand ways more fulfilling than filling coffee cups and cutting biscotti. But still... I want to read some good books on a train on the way to work and have to walk at least 3 blocks to get to there, and eat out of a brown paper bag on the lawn for lunch. I want a boss that tells me what to do every hour and I don't want to be responsible for anyone's happiness. I'm probably not responsible for anyone's happiness now, but it feels like I am. Is this a midlife crisis?

I don't want to work in a clothing store or a bank. I don't want to be a bus driver or a parking attendant. I think it sounds fun to work in a hotel, but maybe that's just because I'd like to go on vacation. It also sounds really fun to be a farmer. I think I'd be ok with that for one season. Wouldn't it be fun to take a year and do a different job every month? I'd like to be the secretary in the music dept at the U for a month. I could work in a high rise for a month. What do they really do in high rises? I think I just want to ride the elevator.

Well, its late and tomorrow I'll go to work and teach kids about music. And I have to get there really early. And it will be dark. And I'll be so busy at lunch that I'll eat a protein bar. And I have rehearsal after school so by the time I get home it will be dark again. Guh.

I could be a ski lift operator for a month.

Corinne is currently sobbing because Rich is taking her big toe nail entirely off. It died weeks ago after she wore cleats that were too small to an indoor game. Who knew?

Gotta go....

Happy National Bubble Bath Day

2012 a year of celebration.

I'm not sure why I'm so set on celebrating this year. Maybe it's something to do with three consecutive months of celebrating this last fall and a particular walk up the hill and an emotional discovery that I am happiest when I have something to celebrate. And it doesn't have to be grand (but it could be - grand is good) it can just be a simple acknowledgment of something notable. Celebrating is gratitude in action isn't it? Birthday - grateful to be alive, so blow up balloons and eat cake. Independence day - grateful for independence, so send beautiful bombs to explode in the sky. Thanksgiving - grateful to be grateful, so eat. St. Patricks Day - grateful for the color green and a man named Ned (who has a heart the size of his head in his chest). This year I'm going to be more often grateful and act upon it by celebrating more. Maybe this is a resolution. I'm not sure. I shy away from that kind of pressure, worried that the right thing in January will be the wrong thing come July. A year is a long time isn't it? Well, at any rate - I'm going to celebrate this week. 3rd - Festival of Sleep, 4th Trivia Day, 5th National Bird Day, 6th Epiphany, 7th Nicolas Cage's birthday. (I was going to skip Nicolas Cage's birthday, but I really like Raising Arizona and Moonstruck so much that I thought I would show my gratitude by doing some celebrating.)

I'm hoping this celebrating will be a bit of a magic pill. I love music so much that I'm celebrating by teaching kids how to sing and how to appreciate it. I love feeling organized so much that I'm celebrating by cleaning out closets or the garage. I want to celebrate color by painting my bedroom. I'll celebrate breakfast by making it. I LOVE breakfast.

I really think one of the reasons I love Europe is that there have been so many people live in that place and love and make mistakes and walk and dance and think and die. The place itself is a celebration of lives lived. All of them all at once. I want to celebrate the planet and all of the incredible people who've lived on it by seeing all of it. And all of them. Is that reasonable?

It's 2:03 am. Off to a stellar start. I'm going to celebrate pillows by resting on some for a while. 4 of them. I really LOVE pillows.

Happy New Year.

2011 was a year for thinking. 2012 will be a year for celebrating.

National Trivia Day

A camel has three eyelids. One is transparent so he can see in a sandstorm.

The first TV dinners were created in 1953 when someone at Swanson overestimated the number of turkeys Americans would consume for Thanksgiving. Inspired by prepackaged airline food, Gary Thomson, a company representative, combined the leftover turkeys with dressing, peas and potatoes in aluminum trays and thus TV dinners were invented.

Babies are born without kneecaps.

Richard's - Phil Mickelson, who plays golf left-handed, is actually right handed. He learned to play golf by mirroring his father’s golf swing, and he has used left handed golf clubs ever since.

Jessica –1. In the olden times it was a common belief that a murder victim’s body would bleed when the murderer was present. They used this gruesome process in murder trials. 2. A butt is an old English unit of measurement. It indicates a large barrel – usually full of wine. So, a butt load of wine is an accurate term, and not as crass as you might think.

Douglas - Queen Amadala’s decoy’s name in Star Wars episode II, the Clone Wars, is Corde.

Corinne - Carry Fisher’s (Princess Leia) real life mom is Debbie Reynolds, who plays Kathy Seldon in Singin In The Rain.

David - In any given day, more fresh mangos are eaten than any other fruit.

It's pretty incredible to be in a family. Tonight at one point Douglas was singing Agony from Into The Woods, Corinne was playing Sousa something-or-other on her flute and Jessica was playing Flogging Mollies on the guitar. All at once. In their separate locations, but - woa.

Yesterday Corinne annihilated a pile of laundry that was at least the size of a large boulder. Douglas has done the dishes two nights in a row. Jessica is the best math tutor in the house - and the happiest. David doesn't ask for a song anymore when we tuck him in. And he's sleeping without the hall light on tonight.

Here's to my family -

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away."
~ Dinah Craik