I'm writing this because I can.

Why do men sometimes have to be a horse's ass?? Not even a horse's ass, because I like horses. In fact, at the moment, I can't think of an animal, or any species really that I would use for this analogy. Certain presidents, a few past leaders, some especially horrible criminals, bad tv, but no, not an animal. I hate petulant behavior. This is not to say that I have never acted petulant, because like any broken human, I have my moments. But, I can't stand it in the face of everyone breaking their backs to make good. GET OVER IT. For God's sake, shit happens. And I do see men doing this more often than women. I think because women are so used to everything falling the fuck apart that they don't get as rattled. But, Jesus! Let a man be put out, and we should all fall to our knees.

I'm upset because I had to clean up every conceivable mess tonight at work. The night went fabulously, and the crowd raved. But, it was a hellish evening. And at the end of it, I'm steaming over grown-up men who act like five year olds. And I can leave it at that, since we all know my thoughts on children. Give me a day of rest tomorrow, and I'll be back in the swing. But right now, if I could get my hands around his neck, I would....(fade to black)

March Passing

Funeral

For solemn’s sake
They wore the
Blackest black
For a day…
Twenty-four hours,
A fraction of a year.

What had been endured
Was beyond blackness,
Was charred,
Like the remains
Of the lively oak
In a Colorado wood.

They marched
In a procession
Of mourning
Mourners joyful of loss
To be able to weep
Or grow weary
With the pain
Of being left.

Imagine the majesty
Of cloaked misery
Or abject anquish
When shared with the afternoon
When pardoned by sunny hours
And captured by
A plastic rose.

The bell tolls
And what is lost
Has gone
Heavenward or hellbound.
All who remain
Are breathing shallow
Waiting to toss
Dirt on the grave,
And be done.

For all my teacher friends

"I would much rather put a phenomenal, great teacher in a field with 30 kids and nothing else than take the mediocre teacher and give them half the number of students and give them all the technology in the world."ZEKE M. VANDERHOEK, 31, who is starting a charter school that will pay teachers $125,000 a year.

Hope some of this finds its way to you. Wow. Love that commitment.

Day 6 of March 2008

The day today was gorgeous. I sat in the middle of the dirt road by the church with dog and cat and just let the sun shine all over us all. It's days like these that begin to make me look forward to summer, longer days and more time after work to enjoy walks, gardening or just being outside. I planted pansies on the porch and picked up an Easter garden flag for my flag pole. I want to do raised beds for some plants this year. I want to put boxes into the water wheel building and plant little flowers to bloom there. I want an herb garden. I didn't make the time last year to do it, plus I was moving up here...so it wasn't really convenient. I'd like to get a picnic table for MOnday night dinners. I want to start a hiking group, so I'll have folks to go hike with. I still want an ice cream maker so that I can design my own flavors, like cardamom and ginger. I guess I'll have to plan a party at some point, or Dan the winemaker will drive me insane about it.

It feels nice to begin thinking of summer tasks. Putting firewood away for the summer will be nice. I love winter too...don't get me wrong. But days like this, put you in mind of sun warmed porches and fresh lemonade.

A tiny home blown 'round in the wind.

We found this on our morning walk. What a tremendous effort of beauty and efficiency this! Blown face down onto the dirt road from the pine tree (or farther??) I put it into a smaller tree with gnarly branches to hold it tight. Maybe once my scent is washed away, some new family can be born there. I love the moss integrated into the bed of it...to make softness for eggs and hatching. This is the ultimate recycling lesson, right?

I don't like the Osmonds.

Sometimes I don't like things just because someone says they are good. I can be that petty. Or ambivalent. I'm not sure which category, and for that matter they may be synonymous under the right conditions. My friend and I are trying to eat healthier. Not diet (hate the word/concept/idea) just be more aware of what things are made of, what substitutions are added to make up for "no fat, no sugar, no gluten" etc. We are across the hall from a woman who drinks green shakes on a semi-daily basis. And so, when she snoops on one of our morning conversations, me telling a tale of kale and oily fish, she has to tell us exactly what is what. And the thing is, we never asked. Now normally, I would enjoy educated feedback in this area, because I am a lazy bore when it comes to researching the food topic. But, I don't like it when people take over the conversation and act as though they wrote the book. So, after she left the office, my friend and I looked at each other and said "know it all". And I swear to you that if I owned one, I'd be eating a twinkie in front of her tomorrow. Stating in no uncertain terms that CNN prescribed it as the power food of 2008. Just to make her run and google little Debbie. I'm that mean sometimes.

Then, I get home and turn on the tv, and the Osmonds are having a 50th anniversary show. And I realize they must be old, but they look no different. They sound no different. They are the same. And I still don't like them, although I'm sure there are a zillion reasons why I should.

Put a tune to this.

If my friend Jonathon were here, he'd say, "Kym, keep it simple. Don't worry about things so much" And then, he would prepare dinner for no less than three hours, his wife would tuck the four children into bed around 9pm (just after we finished) and then she'd kiss his cheek and head to bed. He would say to me, as he has a hundred times, "do you wanna hear some new music?" and we'd go outside on the back porch, where he'd play his guitar and sing, interjecting this or that story in between songs. Finally around midnight, I decide to leave (and this never happens) because Johnathon walks me to my car and we get into a long discourse on constellations (of which I know little and he knows much) which leads us inevitably to my favorite part, which is the philosophizing of life. And this could last till 2:30am or worse. I miss him. I never went as often as I sometimes may have wanted to...because he got me, in ways that few people do. And I believe that we have traveled lifetimes together, but that realization did nothing but terrify me. He was always okay with it. And when they moved last year to Nashville, I said, "I'll come and visit!" and he said, "no you won't...you barely visited when we were 20 minutes away". And he smiled, because he knows it doesn't mean anything about what they mean to me...it only means that I am me, and I can only take so much closeness. I miss him for knowing that. And being okay with it.

Relationships are about relating. And I think I suck at that. I am sociable, I can be light and fun and airy. It's such a fragment of me. The real me blurs everything. Hears everything. Processes everything. And keeps everything at bay. Johnathon scared me, because he came close without ever moving and he grew to know me without ever asking too many questions. And he snuck up on me, and it was only in the way I left him feeling too revealed, too lamplit that cautioned me to steer clear of him most of the time.

I hope I am changing Jon. I know that you've always believed that I could. YOu never said it, but it was there every time you invited me over (twice in two months!), and hoped that I would say yes, and not cancel later.

This movie made me think of you. It was about good friends, and coming clean with yourself. I hope Nashville is treating you fine. And that if you ever trip across this blog, you can read between the lines to see what a gift you are to me.