Tuesday Slice: Missing the ocean

 

The location was perfect for a weekend away.  Lush green woods surrounded the cabin, so thick that I couldn't see anything else through the leaves except partial glimpses of cars on the road below.

The air was hot and muggy, but surprisingly free of flying, biting insects. The temperature dropped as soon as I stepped into the shade from the trees, and breezes cooled the sweat on my skin.

Mornings were lovely for walking a bit.  The steep hills of the outpost gave my calves a good, much needed stretch.  I stopped to take pictures of plants and wildflowers that lined the road, the paths on the hiking trail, the spiderwebs that looked like silk fabric instead of concentric strands.

The air conditioned cabin helped me cool off, but the trees and the breeze beckoned, so I would grab a book and sit outside in the provided Adirondack chair.  My concentration would be broken by a sudden surge of wind through the treetops, a roaring rustle interrupting the birdsong.

The rustling sounded like waves.  That's when I realized...I missed the ocean.  

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Celebrating the small things

Ramona has given us the prompt of

"celebrating the small things" this month.

My gratitude journal seems to be on repeat these days.  Thankful for my morning quiet time and coffee.  Thankful for the roof over my head, food in the pantry and fridge, running water, electricity (especially air conditioning), indoor plumbing, access to the internet, money to pay the bills.

None of that seems celebratory.  Worthy of gratitude, yes, but party themes?  Nope.

I should have been able to celebrate the last day of my work calendar of one of the hardest years of my education career.  I've been working steadily on school-related stuff since then, though...so that firecracker fizzled.

And let's face it--the news, especially here in Texas, has been far, far less than celebratory.

So what's left to celebrate, and by celebrate, I mean acknowledge as good and true and worthy of dancing and letting go a bit?  Or maybe...just being alive and present and grateful is the celebration.  I can dance and let go just because

my body can move to music

I have the privilege of time to dance

I did positively impact my learning community

we did persevere through a really hard school year

(though I think this qualifies as a big thing)

I can take time to rest my mind and body

I can applaud the celebrations of this writing group of friends.

Thanks for the opportunity to pen my rambling thoughts, my fellow travelers.  May there be a skip in our steps today.

Photo courtesy of m01229 on Flickr

Tuesday Slice: Giving birth

 

I very rarely dream, at least that I can remember.  Even more rarely do I dream in color and with physical feeling.  So you can imagine my surprise when I awoke from a birthing dream.  I had slept past my alarm; I'm sure it's because I wanted the dream to continue.

The 'dream scene' opened with me alone in a hospital room, lying on a bed in mild labor.  I could feel and see my belly rippling, rolling, remarking "Are you making your way down, little one?".  I reached my hand down--and felt a head.  Starting to yell for my husband, the labor paused as the head appeared, and then the baby was there.  I wiped off her face, she opened her eyes and cried out a bit, then closed them and rested on my chest.  My husband and the medical personnel showed up, tut-tutted, cleaned her off, and left us to get acquainted.

The scene shifted to our house (not our real one) which was crowded with family (some familiar, some not).  I was carrying the baby around, worried a bit about my milk coming in, wondering if I'd ever deliver the placenta (that part was really strange).  At one point, the nurses from the hospital came by to bring gifts and check on us; at another, I thought I had lost the baby somewhere in the house, only to find her sleeping in a baby seat next to my father, who was dozing in a recliner.

So what does all of this mean?

According to dreams.co.uk,

 

 "The most common meanings behind a dream about giving birth are to do with new beginnings, creativity and prosperity. This dream symbolises that something exciting is coming your way and you’re ready to embark on a new phase of your waking life. The baby in your dream is a sign of a fresh start, a new project or a relationship that‘s about to bloom. It’s all about hope, anticipation, growth and success."

Furthermore, dreaming about having a girl:

"Dreaming about giving birth to a baby girl can symbolise celebrating your feminine qualities and internal beauty. It may also be a sign of financial fortune, luck and good health."

I am in the middle of a library facility upgrade at work.  I am also changing the focus on my library programming, and have applied for a grant to help me accomplish that goal.  Personally, I am in the pondering/ planning stages (again) of what needs to change in my health and financial habits.

Whether or not the dream is predicting the future, it is certainly reflecting the present.  Do you have vivid dreams?  Do you record them, ascribe meaning to them, share them? 

Tuesday Slice: Chaos reigns

The library should be the bastion of calm organization...right?

My library is a hot mess right now.  

There are no less than five heavily-loaded boxes of books strewn about the floor--two destined for Goodwill (don't panic, they are old, donated, non-library books), if I can lug them to my car, the other four crammed with discarded library books that really, really belong in classroom libraries, if I can get teachers to take them at the beginning of next year.  I swore I was going to send them on to the warehouse, but these are fairly recent, really good books that we just don't have room for in our small space, so I want to give them one more chance.

I just discovered three more taped up boxes of books in the closet that I could have given away to students two weeks ago at our No-Price Bookstore.  There's always next year...

We have kits upon kits filling tables and stored on top of bookshelves as teachers who are leaving or changing positions return their items. 

And we are getting ready for a small but significant remodel, which entails moving everything out of the maintenance workers' way so they can tape off the area and get to work...as early as tomorrow.  We're about two-thirds through emptying that space, largely thanks to my hardworking library assistant. 

I have two tables of prizes displayed for my daily drawings of clear accounts--posters, jump ropes, hula hoops, coloring books, sunglasses... 

Did I mention that we are also in the middle of inventory, scanning every book in the library and every barcoded item in the classrooms?  And there will be summer school on my campus, so the librarian for the June program needs access to books and tables...

My mantras for the next three weeks: 

"One must break a few eggs to make an omelet."

"If it is not a mess, it's not progress." 

"Change is messy, but worth it."

"Breathe.  Just breathe."

 

Tuesday Slice: Bum knees

My every move

is dictated

these days

by two bum knees.

It's not their fault--

I fell on them

twice

in three days.

One is sporting

the largest

Band Aid

I could find

to cover an inch 

square gash

but otherwise 

looks okay.

The other is taped

with a smaller bandage

and feels

like a grapefruit

pressing against

my skinny jeans

the joint colored

in shades of plum.

If left too long 

in any position

both knees 

like to stiffen up

swell in different spots

I can feel the push

against them as

I stand, or sit.

The care of

these knees

has added

ten minutes to

my daily routine--

the changing

of bandages

the extra time

to put on shoes.

How I move,

how I sleep,

how I dress--

the knees,

for the time being,

are in control.

What a bummer.

 

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Abundance

 

Susan has given us the prompt of "abundance" 

to explore on our spiritual journey this month.

Enough vs enough already

I inherited a shopping gene

Passed from grandmother

To mother

To me

Not really hoarding

But collecting

Bargain hunting

Treasure seeking

A lot of rationalizing, too

(If it fits and it's on sale, 

buy all the colors)

For my grandmother, 

It was jewelry

For my mother,

It was yarn and

Collectibles

For me,

It is clothes

and books

and planner stickers

and kitchen stuff

and more books...

But a house can only hold so much

There comes a time when life expectancy

Is shorter than the time it will take

To read all the books

Make all the recipes

Use all the stickers

Wear all the clothes

(enough)

And tripping on a bag handle

In the hallway, where

A bag shouldn't be

Scraping one's knees

Is really a slap on the face

(enough, already)

Waking up to what abundance

Really is, and most importantly

What it isn't.

Tuesday Slice: It's still the campus Disneyland

There was a large group of visitors in my library last week, for the first time in a long time.  We were the "green room" for our career day presenters, tables laden with donuts, kolaches, breakfast tacos and bagels, with coffee, juice, and flavored water to wash it down.  There was a pleasant buzz as a counselor mom, city firefighter, and district police officer sat down and introduced themselves.  A dental tech and a prosthetics maker, both in scrubs, joined the group.  Computer engineers and a fitness specialist and a host of folks on other career paths brought the count to almost thirty.

At the same time, I had a central office employee pop in to volunteer with our library inventory.  We chatted during the quiet times as the crowd left for their presentation tables in the gym.  We knew a lot of people in common, having worked in the district for decades.  

I delivered book return carts, answered some emails, and played hostess until eleven am, when the career fair was over.  Leftover food was carted off to the teachers' lounge, and the space was converted back to a library for the class due to arrive at twelve.  Most of the afternoon was spent guiding kindergarteners in voting for their favorite Armadillo Readers' Choice book using our interactive flat panel.

Looking back on the day's events, I recall a conversation with a parent presenter.  She said my love for my work was apparent in the way her daughter talked about her library visits.  After nine years as a librarian on two campuses, I still feel like I get to work in the school Disneyland.