Wyeths and Moon Madness

Andrew Wyeth, Moon Madness, 1982

I love the Wyeths' works, all three generations. Andrew Wyeth lived in Cushing Maine in the summers, and his presence is felt throughout the state in his paintings, watercolors, and sketches.

I remember attending an exhibit in 1998 at the Rockland Maine museum called Wondrous Strange - The Wyeth Tradition - Howard Pyle, N. C. Wyeth, Andrew Wyeth, James Wyeth. I saw the date and I literally startled myself, I can't believe it was that long ago. I do remember it like yesterday, the paintings were wondrous...and strange. :)

I love watercolors, especially a Wyeth.

Cannonball the ant hill

Last week was a long week. We were all looking forward to the long, Labor Day holiday weekend. It had been hot, the air conditioner at school had been malfunctioning, and the kids were tired.

There was this one boy on Friday…he had a hard time in reading group. He was asked to re-do his handwriting paper because it did not meet the teacher’s standard. He got very hot and sweaty at recess, got bumped into and cut in front of at the water fountain line, and generally was tired.

We have a long walk from class to the place where the kids are picked up at the end of the day. The boy sang the whole time. Sing, sing. Sing and a little jog in his walk.

Now, if I had been bumped in line at Wal-Mart, cut in front of, had a long, hot, and sweaty week, which ended with my boss telling me to do my report over again because it didn’t meet standards, I know I would not be singing. I would be grumbling or murmuring, most likely. But the boy was singing.

What a good attitude. I'll try to do better with mine.

Overheard on the playground today:

Two boys looking at a new fire ant mound. One whacks the other on his elbow, says, "Hey! Let's cannon ball on the ant hill!"

It's Labor day, so it's time for change of seasons. Or not, if you live in Georgia

It's Labor Day 2012, which means I cease from my labor for a day and lounge around in a tee shirt and shorts, lol. It also means I could sleep late (6:00am instead of 5:30, woo-hoo!) and I can take a nap later if I want to.

I bought some really good vegetables on Friday while grocery shopping and I want to make roasted veggies out them them. I got carrots, firm and fresh green peppers (68 cents each!) small red potatoes, and onions. Pans of roasted veggies with oil and salt and rosemary dance before my eyes. The Labor Day weekend awakens in me the decades-long timing that the weather is cooler and the need to nest and make heavier dishes arises. The problem is, I am not in Rhode Island nor Maine anymore and the weather is going to be in the 90s with real feel temps in the hundreds. Oy. What's a gal to do whose seasonal embeddedness hasn't caught up with the reality that the seasons are different here?

I should put the stuff in the oven early while the temps are still cool and my overworked air conditioner can keep up with an hour of the oven being turned to 350 degrees. But I probably won't.

Another rhythm I never got used to not being a part of is the yellow school buses rumbling along after Labor Day when school started. I taught for 12 years and then I was out of the school system for 12 years. During the second 12 years I always looked at the buses rolling into the school driveways in September with longing and yearning. My mind's annual clock was set to the school year, not the calendar year.

When I resumed being a part of the school system here in Georgia, this time as para-professional (fancy term for teacher's aide), I had to get used to the school year beginning on August 1st, not September 1st or thereabouts. Yikes, that is something I won't reconcile my mind to. Georgia people, it's just wrong to begin a school year in August!

Phew, glad I got that off my chest.

Now that it is "legitimately" time for school - and cooler weather - my mind and body are happy. Even though school has been going for a month and cooler weather won't arrive for weeks...Isn't it funny how long-term habits never really go away, or are so hard to change.

This weekend I have not done one thing different than I usually do on a regular weekend. I still rest, read, study, write, and stay alone. I still enjoy listening to Wayne Grudem's "Systematic Theology", watching re-runs of Big Bang Theory, starting books which regularly turn out awful and throwing them down in disgust, talking about cooking something but never getting around to it, and writing about it all. Aren't blogs great?

I hate spider webs

It's not so much the spiders, although I'm not a fan, it's the sticky webs that get me. I don't care if I brush up against one and it only attaches to my shirt and not my skin, I'll still do a dance where I'll look like I'm being electrocuted.

The other day I walked out from my front door to the car and as I got under the tree I saw that my nose was an inch away from making contact with an enormous brown spider, and that my right shoulder had dislodged the anchor strand which extended to the grass underneath. I backed away slowly, distancing myself from the horror of a sticky web, and did the dance to get it off my shirt.

The next day I wisely walked around the tree. However, I had underestimated the anchor strand, and grossly underestimated his tireless nocturnal endeavors, because the web extended beyond the tree and grass underneath it over the walkway thirty feet away! I walked snoot first into a sticky strand, and because it was SO unexpected, I did the dance in double time. By now I'm wondering what the neighbors think.

The next day I left for work in a hurry and shot out the front door at full speed. I remembered the web situation in time, and stopped short. I had a bag of used kitty litter in my hand which was destined for the trash can way over in the spider-free zone, so I started swinging it wildly all around. In front of me, above me, spastically. I hoped that the bag would hold and I wouldn't have ended up spraying kitty litter everywhere. But the web situation was at a higher Def-Con level, so I proceeded with the crazy bag swinging until I got to the car.

The next morning I was prepared. I brought the BROOM out with me. As I walked to the car, swinging the broom in great arcs and sweeps above me and around me like a pinwheel, I looked either like a crazy woman losing her mind, or a taut Warrior Princess swinging my sabre. I rather like to think it was the latter.

Small things can be great things

What a great day. I'm excited about tomorrow. It will be great too. Today I got to comfort a 5-year-old crying from a skinned knee, explain what callouses were to a boy who lives on the monkey bars, offer an ice cream cone to a child who lives a life where 50 cents will always be out of range, teach three alphabet letters and sounds to kids who can't read yet, and explain to a beautiful young girl wearing a feather in her hair why the Native Americans used them while hunting.

You might think that comforting a crying skinned knee child is not much, but to be able to bring a person from pain and tears to laughter inside of three minutes is wonderful. I like seeing the tears dry up and I like knowing I helped someone not be in anguish anymore. Everyone would be satisfied with something great like that.

Teaching the letter "H" to a child may not sound like much, but knowing letters A through H so far means they are on track to unlock the alphabet, which unlocks literacy, which unlocks the world.

Explaining to the boy who had blisters turning to callouses on his fingers what they were and why they were there, not only reduced his heretofore unexpressed anxiety about what was happening to his fingers, (he didn't know and was worried) but he may be an Olympian someday on the gymnastic rings, and I can say I knew him when.

The girl with the feather told me she was going to be an Indian Princess for Halloween. Including the fact about the feather was fun and while I was at it I got to tell her she is beautiful, no small thing for kids these days who are regularly mocked, bullied, ignored, neglected and all manner of things that they may be going through which I don't know about. We practiced walking down the hall regally, waving our hand in a queen-like manner. (And I got to explain the word "regal," heh. An expanded vocabulary is always good thing).

Whether they are for children or adults, small things are big things. Small things don't cost very much and everyone appreciates them. I know I do when my friends do a small, thoughtful thing for me. Imagine the effect on a child.

My starter is a non-starter

I had an all-day meeting in the other building, so none of the kindergartners saw me today until we were lining up for buses. One little guy spotted me. He raised his finger and pointed at me, asking,

Where were you all day yesterday?
I think you mean today.
Today we did math.
Yesterday is the day before today.
Yesterday I played with trains.
OK, well, good to see you too.
Thank you. Can I go to the bathroom?

My car died. It was resurrected with lots of money. Apparently that is all it takes to resurrect a car. What happened was, I drove to school yesterday and all was well. When I left at 3:15 it wouldn't start. I called AAA for a jump. The guy had gotten lost and was given wrong address so it was quite late when he did arrive. Improbably, he arrived in a small Z28 red sports car and even more improbably, he unfolded his wheezing, 6'4" 300 lb frame out of his car and then limped over to my car, explaining his truck was broke and his ankle was sprained. I said, "Oh." He had me try to start my car, and it clicked but didn't turn over, apparently the major clue it was the starter and not the battery. I said "Oh." After fooling around with the car it was 5:00. I took a friend up on her offer of a ride home and left my 1993 Ford Explorer hulk sitting in the school parking lot, to think over his evil, non-starting ways.

Today I got a ride in to school with a friend and went to the training session I'd been scheduled for. At lunch time I called AAA again, this time for a tow. The guy arrived pretty quickly (in 58 minutes) and he backed his truck up to mine to get in position, got out to chain my car up, and that's when his truck stalled. He mumbled something like "not this again", dropped to the ground in what was obviously a well-practiced move, rolled his string bean, jean-clad body under the front wheel-well, jiggled something, and the truck started up again. He returned to chaining up my car. The stop-drop and roll move was performed two more times as his truck stalled and was re-started in this entertaining and unique way.

I watched my car be towed off into the sunset, admiring my frugality in wringing out as many miles as possible from it (215,345 and counting) but wondering if the old dear will now be my albatross money pit. It also occurred to me as my woes were added to the sprained ankle broke truck guy's and the string bean jiggle the truck guy's, that times are so tough we are all really hanging on with dental floss and duct tape.

Be kind to one another. We never know the other guy's troubles. We're in tough times, so we know he's got 'em. Jesus said the Golden Rule is, "So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets." (Matthew 7:12)

Life with cats

Today is wash the bedspreads and heavy linens day. I took the quilt off the foot of the bed that Bert likes to lay on when he looks out the window. I took away the sham that he likes to lay on by the pillows when he naps. I substituted two temporary towels so the clean bedspread wouldn't get cat hair on it while the other stuff is washing. So naturally he lays down in between the towels ON MY CLEAN BEDSPREAD.

The week is done, let the weekend begin

It has been a fun week. We started school on August 6, but the kids came on August 10. The week just past was the first full, five-day week with the kids. Needless to say, kids AND teachers were exhausted on Friday afternoon. But it was a great opening. And the kids are wonderfully cute and interesting and their personalities sparkle like many facets in a diamond.

I look forward to Friday nights. Saturdays are for catching up on errands and laundry and household tasks and "must do" lists, and Sunday is for the Lord, so Friday night is truly the only "down time" I have. I'm physically and mentally exhausted so I look forward to laying on the couch in the evening and watching something innocuous or harmless on tv. And every week I get aggravated at the dearth of anything watchable on television. Here is something someone said about TV:

"When television is good, nothing — not the theater, not the magazines or newspapers — nothing is better."

"But when television is bad, nothing is worse. I invite each of you to sit down in front of your own television set when your station goes on the air and stay there, for a day, without a book, without a magazine, without a newspaper, without a profit and loss sheet or a rating book to distract you. Keep your eyes glued to that set until the station signs off. I can assure you that what you will observe is a vast wasteland."

"You will see a procession of game shows, formula comedies about totally unbelievable families, blood and thunder, mayhem, violence, sadism, murder, western bad men, western good men, private eyes, gangsters, more violence, and cartoons. And endlessly commercials — many screaming, cajoling, and offending. And most of all, boredom. True, you'll see a few things you will enjoy. But they will be very, very few. And if you think I exaggerate, I only ask you to try it."

The 'TV is a vast wasteland' quote is quite famous now. It was uttered in a speech "given by Federal Communications Commission (FCC) chairman Newton N. Minow to the convention of the National Association of Broadcasters on May 9, 1961." (source)

I have about 70 channels on my cable and there is literally nothing to watch. I don't like anything too mentally taxing but the available choices go between silliness and horror/blood/crime. Even the Food Channel is ridiculous with Friday evening repeats of Diners Drive-Ins and Dives for several hours. I can't stand Guy Fieri. He is too loud and too high-energy for me. By Friday night I need a Mr Rogers, not a boxing announcer shouting LET'S GET READY TO RUUUUUUUUUUUMBLE for three hours, or in Guy's case, LET'S GET READY TO EEEEEEEEEAT. Even HGTV features shows with entitled yuppies looking for the perfect house with the perfect number of bathrooms and the perfect color marble countertops. Ick.

If TV was a vast wasteland in 1961, fifty-one years ago, what is television now? It hasn't improved, let me tell you that. So why do I keep watching? I don't know. I'm an idiot, I guess. :) And I sound like quite the curmudgeon, lol. 

OK enough complaining. I woke up early this morning from a great night's sleep. In the cool, pre-dawn, I heard a warbling rooster from somewhere nearby. Then the geese flew over. It's geese time! I read in the local paper covering my former hometown in southern Maine that the public beach at Crystal Lake was once again hosting the migrating geese. They are on their way. This morning in the dark and stillness I heard a few honks. So the advance team was making their way to us here in Georgia. Fall in GA is simply glorious.

Today my plan is to do the dishes that have piled up in the sink, wash all the bedspreads, quilts, and couch coverlets and pillows, deal with the water level in my car radiator, steam a pile of potatoes (for bit-by-bit use in various dishes this week) cut up a cantaloupe, write another blog entry, and listen to two sermons.

So, I better get to it!

A world within a drop of water

Goofing around with some photos.

We had a few moments of sprinkling rain this morning. I went out and took a photo of the red spider flowers and the drops on them. I admire those photographers who can take a close-up photo of a drop and capture the drop in the drop. I don't have a finely tuned camera like that but I did my best.

The summer season is passing and the fall season will be here in a few weeks (maybe 6?). "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

Corner View: Flora

Corner View is a weekly appointment - each Wednesday - created by Jane, where bloggers from all corners of the world share their view on a pre-arranged theme. If you'd like to join in, please leave a link to your Corner View post in the comments at the Corner View link, and be sure to visit other participants you'll find there too. Today's theme is "flora".

Comer Georgia: My yard has a ton of tiger lilies. They're bright, tall, and the first thing I see when I pull in the driveway. I hate to see them go. This guy is starting to turn a bit, and fade out. The lily season is always so short.

Comer Georgia: Morning glories growing up the fence next to the hayfield. They're so vivid! He looks like he is glowing.

Poppies stretching for the sun. This photo was taken in Lubec Maine, a place far north in the US and where the sun is up for a short time of day. Their vivid color against the New England clapboard amid the fog and slate grey Atlantic across the street made for a colorful pop.

 Thanks for visiting my (late) Corner View!