Finding My Flow

I've been thinking a lot about my writing lately. I've been trying to push forward on the Eli and Hannah story but it has gotten a bit stale lately. I still love the plot and the characters but I feel like I am not getting anywhere as I write it. I think it might be time to shelve it for a little while and just stretch my writing muscles.

Part of my need for change is that I haven't had much time to write since before the Holidays. It seems like all of my free time, when I get any, is spent on other things. This means that when I do sit down to write it doesn't flow naturally. This is what I want to get back. The rhythm of writing where hours can disappear while you are caught between your mind and the paper. That's why I write to be in that 'zone'.

Of course it is easier to procrastinate on project in particular than to move forward on less concrete project. But that is the direction that I am heading. I took "A Writer's Book of Matches" out of the library and I'm going to use it daily for the next few weeks. If I find that the prompts are helping me to reenter writing then I might actually buy the book.

My Magical Boy

From The Magical B...

Last week Kevin commented to me that he thought that Alder was a magical kid. You know the type who just seem to have their own path clearly set out and who don't seem bound by the regular rules. Ever since he said it I have been trying to see what it.

I don't mean that I think Alder is boring or bland, I just never used the word magic to describe him. But as I watched him over the past week I have seen glimpses of the magic. It is hard to see more in a kid whose main goal in life at the moment is to master stair climbing, even though crawling is still only hit or miss. He spends literally hours at the bottom of the stairs pushing up on them and trying to get his hands one step higher. Unlike crawling in this activity it is the hands that he has figured out first.

From The Magical B...

Even in the middle of being change he has one thing on his mind.

No matter where in the room we put him he makes his way back over to the stairs to try. Yesterday evening he was so tired but he would not stop trying, even though he was in tears he continued to work at the stairs. I finally closed the screen over them so he would calm down.

All of this determination to figure things out on his own when he wants to adds to our reasons for unschooling. How sad would it be if he became a kid who learned to suppress his curiosity to appease a teacher. Or worse learn to hate learning because the structure did not take into account what his needs or interests.

Back at Thanksgiving when homeschooling came up my dad's only comment was that he couldn't see why we would want to waste our time. If we really wanted to teach him stuff we could do it after school. Luckily explaining this to my family has a longer time frame than homebirth.

Now that I can see the magic Kevin is talking about I would never want to snuff it out.

The Big and the Heavy

You'd figure that since we know were moving that we would stop acquiring new heavy furniture but this in the last few days we've picked up a few things.

On Friday we went up to Boulder for a change of pace. Every time we go we have it in our minds that it will be different. But it never is, the town is a mixed message of environmental spiritual peace and mass consumerism. I'm torn which annoys me more, the trustifarians walking the streets asking for money or the fact that the Pearl Street Mall that touts itself as a unique small town place is filled with the same stores as the malls. We try ever six months to like Boulder, but we can't.

However, there are somethings that you can find in Boulder that we occasionally need. This time we were heading to the bookstore, a book on Native American Healing (I'm still not sure what it's for but Kevin made a persuasive argument that it was useful for some sort of acupuncture crossover), and to Two Hands, the paper store (I was hunting for small vellum envelopes). Kevin found his book, after an hours search with a fussy baby, hungry wife and having to lug the stroller up and down the stairs a few times. I however only found things I didn't need at the paper store.

Once again Boulder was turning out to be a disappointment. After regaining some of my sanity through eating lunch at Mountain Sun, including a surprisingly good tasting espresso stout, we headed back to the car. Walking back past the paper store we saw one of their old paper display shelves out on the side walk with a FREE sign on it. How could I not.

With much effort from Kevin we moved what must have been at least 200 hundred pounds of wood on to the top of the car and got home with out the roof caving in.

From Art shelf

Our second find of the weekend has a larger impact on our life. We bought a crib from Craig's List for 75 dollars. We trekked down to Centennial to pick it up. The family had not dismantled the crib yet so Kevin did while mom corralled her two children and the 'step son' played the guitar. The ride back up home we enjoyed making up the story of this family's life.

From Art shelf

I was a little afraid what Alder's first night in the crib would be like but I had no reason to, the boy already sleeps anywhere. The crib's in our room so the only real difference was that I had to stand up to hand him a bottle.

As for the night sleep I think we all like this arrangement better. It's a little sad that his warm little body isn't bumping up against me all night long. But Kevin does his best to fill the gap and he doesn't pee in the bed.

A Stroll in Grain Valley

You know when you get one of those healthy multi grain rolls, sometimes called crunchy rolls? Well those little yellow crunchies are millet. For a long time I have searched out these rolls primarily for the wonderful crunch that those tiny beebees make. I've even started to add them to my own bread. Well today I met a whole different face to millet.

I was contemplating dinner and didn't want rice or couscous. But dinner needed a grain. So I went wandering in the dark forest that is our grains shelf. The trail was a wandering one. The first grain that I met along the way was quinoa. I respectful little dude with a Saturnal ring around it's belly. But for as kind and decent quinoa is he's a little boring. Not the sort of guy you invite for a road trip. We said our goodbyes and I continued on my way.

Next I encountered old bulgar. Now bulgar is fine if you give her good company. She a wonderful counterpart to something strong like feta or lemon but on her own she's quite a shell. Not only is she a bit flaky but she is quite gruff too. As she was alone on the trail she barely even said hello- just a grunt.

I was heading down the valley trail wondering if I would end up inviting good old couscous since she's easy and tasty. It's been said by some that she's so fast that even her kisses lack virginity. That being said couscous is a good friend, solid and true, I've known her for years.

I was lost in a memory of lamb and couscous when I heard a small cough. I looked up to see millet. Millet I said, nice to see you but shouldn't you be over in Bakingtown? Why no no he said, that's just a part time gig. I spend most of my time here among these grains.

My face must have betrayed my surprise because he continued. Actually, I am one of the most popular grains in Africa and Asia, hearty and tasty. While I love millet's spunk I was a little surprised by he forwardness. I was used to him as the punch line, not the whole story. But he continued on, you should give me a go I'm done up like quinoa but there's more to me than that sorry old grain.

How could I say no. And he was right I'm now in love with a new grain... Millet. He's got a lot of depth of flavor slightly sweet and nutty. Like couscous he is supposed to be there to accent the main dish, but both of them don't realize that there is pleasure in eating them alone, especially if their cooked in broth. I'm not giving up couscous but millet is up there in my heart now.

Hannah Brandt Riegelhaupt

From Hannah Brandt...

Hannah Brandt in 1916

I spent today scanning photos from my Dad's photo album. The photos start in 1901 and I made it through part of the 1920's. For a while I felt as though I was sitting on the stoop at 264 E Broadway, watching as everyone had there pictures taken. Or up in Riverside Park with the sailors who picked up my grandma and some friends during fleet week in 1919. Having been to the building I know what the stone feels like, the place has depth.

From Hannah Brandt...

264 E Broadway

Sadly many of the pictures are fading. Many that I remember being clear when I was younger now are faint contrasts of ochres. This is way I took the album back to Denver last month. If I don't do this no one will and then all the pictures will fade. Then the only place these people's faces will be clear will be in my Dad's head.

From Hannah Brandt...

1901

They were a stylish bunch the Brandts. Especially my Grandma Hannah. Before she was married she was a bag designer. Part of her job was to window shop at the big department stores and see what was already out there and figure out what to come up with next. She stopped working in the 1920's but she was always still conscious of design and fashion.

From Hannah Brandt...

Both Grandma Rose (left) and Grandma Hannah (right) with my dad on his wedding day.

From Hannah Brandt...

Grandpa Lou and Hannah with me on my 3rd birthday

How I Do Mama

I've tried to write something for the last few days but I've been struggling. During the day I narrate these great piece to myself but when I sit down here I can't seem to phrase things the way they sounded earlier. Partially it's that my mind is cluttered. I've been thinking about the business and moving, but now I'm focusing on writing again in my mind. I also just decided to go to my 15th High school reunion.

I think it's the reunion that really has been playing the most havoc on my brain. I keep imagining conversations that might happen. My voice always seems defense about the life I have chosen or deliberately vague. For the most part these are people who I like and who I still think about sometimes. But most of them are still in New York doing the city thing with careers and social lives that include things like clubs where you can't where any shoes you want (Amanda quote).

I think of my life here and I see days of long city walks with Sam fading into dancing at the High Dive in definitely inappropriate clothes. These images turn to endless Sunday projects at Jenna's or potlucks at our old apartment. All of it is low key. Perhaps there might some dressing up to go to a First Friday or out to eat but mainly it's about friends.

That's sort of funny if you think about how scared of people I was when we moved here. I still remember being too afraid to go to Stitch and Bitch even though Zakk had invited me. That was the night I met Amy and Sam two of the people from Denver I am closest too. I still have the green cotton yarn tied to my button hole from the corny idea that one should remember that if things got too annoying in real life there was always Monday nights. That was when all of us had hell jobs.

I'm happy now being mama. I don't think I'm loosing myself in Alder like some of the mothers I've met are. Instead I feel that having him around is making me live up to the comments about myself I make. I can't just say I'm a writer if I'm not writing, nor can I talk about the importance of nature if I just spend my days inside. I think I 've started to do a better job of living up to these things that I want to instill in him.

I used to be afraid that I would be the parent who talked about all the things that she did in the 'old days' but had become a sedintary mainstream mom. I even tried on the dress briefly but it ddn't fit. Mother's groups are not for me. I'm just not a big group person. Besides few of the women in the group did I have anything in common with except that we all happened to have vhildren during the same year.

Instead I'm focusing on friendships I already have. Maybe it would be better for him to see more kids. He does get his weekly dose of Lucero and it seems at least once a week we end up hanging out with one other baby for a while. It's good, when he gets a little older and more mobile life will become more social. The snow might stop by then and we can do the playground thing. Right now were focusing on being us.

Most of my friends do not have children. One commented how most of her friends who did have kids moved to the suburbs and bought the SUV. She said it as a compliment. WHat I don't tell her is that having Alder means that I exactly can't do those things even more so than before. I wouldn't last a week in a cookie cutter crapshack in a neighborhood isolated from the world. My sanity comes from the long adventures Alder and I take on the bus and by foot, they come from taking him to concerts and festivals, galleries and libraries. If he is going to grow up curious and unafraid he has to be exposed to the world that we live in.

A few years ago I was at my mother-in-laws and she had a beautiful picture book on the table. It was the story of Ceasar Chavez's life. She saw it sitting there and explained to me that she had originally bought it for my niece (7) but decided not to give it to her because she thought the niece was too young to know that there were hardships like those which he fought against in the world. I held my tounge but it made me wonder what that meant for someone who becomse an adult with so many holes in their perception.

I understand wanting to keep children safe from scary and dangerous things but there is also value in showing them the world and helping them to digest what they are seeing. To let them form opinions and ask questions. When I do expose him to these things it isn't to scare him but to show him the whole of our world.

I don't want him to think that the Little Mermaid really ends happily ever after, it doesn't but Hansel and Gretel does. Life has goods and bads.

wow I think I'm done.

A Feel For Books

From house of books

It's a cold day here in Denver. The sort where reading is really the only thing you can do to whittle away the hours as you nurse a cold and watch your kid (who also ha a cold) sleep. So I picked a book out of my library bag and settled down at the table to read. Today it's Eternal Network, a book about mail art. Yesterday I read Troubling Love, and The Essential Hip Mama. The day before was Garlic and Sapphires. And Dirty Sugar Cookies as wells as the Lafcadio's Adventures the day before. [I've linked these because I wanted to share] Interspersed with these have been the books I read Alder. Add to this mix Kevin's books and text books you get a house piled with books.

All of these books are starting to have an effect on Alder. The same way he knew how to use a spoon the first time we handed him one he now knows how to handle a book. Well except that following flipping pages he tries to eat the books. Giving a new meaning to devouring a book. Sometimes when he's playing he tries to pull about out of my hand. Instead of giving it to him, I read what ever I'm reading to him. He continues playing but glances up if I lapse into silent reading. I know he doesn't know what I am saying but it's clear that he wants to be included when it comes to the books.

I guess this is one of those "rich environment" things they talk about. Alder is surrounded by books therefore he will have some relationship with them. If he sees his parents enjoying them he will think that they are for enjoying. This makes me think of the story Sam told me about the school he used to work where the students now spend six and a half hours a day reading and writing. The district's idea is that they will become excellent readers if they spend all their time doing it. The unintentional drawback is that none of these kids enjoy reading. They won't ever just pick up a book for pleasure because all they associate books with is being stuck in a desk all day and being forced to read.

"All kids in literate societies learn to read." David Albert wrote. He explains the obvious exceptions of children who have organic brain syndromes, visual problems and ptsd, used in the broadest sense. But his point is valid whether or not we set about to teach children the act of reading it is part of our development in literate cultures. In the microcosm of our house Alder will read because there are words all around him and he will want to make sense out of his environment. I'm not concerned if he learns to read at four or seven only that the process is pleasurable and that he never looks at reading as a punishment.

Like so many other things that he is learning reading is already beginning. I don't have any misconceptions that he understands what the markings on the page mean, but he does understand that there is something in these compilations of paper that attract his parents. He knows we look at the pages and that we go from one page to the one next to it. As a practical proof of this he know flips the pages for a while before sticking the book in his mouth. Of course he still puts everything in his mouth... eventually.