Get Fired Up!

Please watch and look for Sophie! And please share the love!

Breath

I noticed today in my yoga class (the second time this week, and the second time in the last six months!) that it's difficult for me to really breathe in, to take a long breath, to move air through and down and everywhere. There seem to be so many places along the way where the air stops, gets jammed, can't go any further.

But breathing it out, letting it go, releasing what's stored is simple and far more powerful.

I wonder what this means. Not enough going in and power in going out? Too much giving and not enough taking?

In the dark of my cave, with all you wonderful people around me -- well, I'm thinking about these things.

Still here, but

I've retreated to my cave.

Countdown to the Freedom Walk

We're three days away from this year's Epilepsy Freedom Walk. Thank you to all who've donated -- I know how tough it is in this economic climate to donate anything at all! I thought I'd post the following video that was shown at another fund-raising function earlier this year, made by a friend of mine who also has a child with epilepsy. Grab a tissue, fall in love with Doogie Hauser (you'll know who I'm talking about!) and watch and learn and be inspired:



And donate HERE!

There's the World and Then There's Us

I've had some doozy days in my life, particularly during the last decade or so, and today wasn't really so much a doozy of a day as it was just one of those you can't make that shit up kind of days. I feel like the only way to do it justice would be to write it stream of conscious style because that's the way my brain thinks and fingers write when I've had a day like today and I feel compelled to tell it. So here goes --

I woke up this morning knowing that I had to get all three kids ready for school and get them ready quick because today was the day that The Husband was actually going to take time away from The Mistress and see Sophie's new school, meet the teacher and the aide but more importantly witness the labyrinthine school itself and where we would be dropping The Girl off and picking The Girl up for the next let's say seven years because kids can stay in these community-based instruction classes in the high school until they turn twenty-two, a number that sort of strikes fear in my heart because really how do we keep going for seven more years and Sophie at twenty-two is just not imaginable but I won't think about that because it's too much. The boys ate their breakfasts while I made the lunches and The Husband finally pulled himself out of bed and fed Sophie who isn't used to getting up early so that was hard and then he ushered Oliver out the door and into his car because he was going to drop Oliver off first and then meet me at the high school and Henry was sitting in the living room playing with the Wii (that I hate) and waiting for his carpool because this year we have three children in three different sites and they all start at approximately the same time and while Oliver was running out the door the new dog -- did I tell you that we're babysitting a friend's dog for the week with the intent to perhaps adopt the dog and add it to our crazy mix of people and poodle and seizures and stuff? And the dog ran out into the street, it's a Tibetan terrier named Sat Nam and The Husband over-reacted, like usual, and screamed that the dog is dumb and why the hell did we have a second dog and even though he was right I still felt irritated because he was overreacting and Oliver had already caught the dog and hauled it back into the house and then was gone and out the door and Henry left too when the carpool honked and I told him to get off that thing right now and go but I love you and have a nice day! And then I went in and dressed Sophie and dragged her sleepy self to the car and loaded it up with the stroller and her various boxes and bags and all the stuff that we need to transfer to the new school. Michael met me at the gate, chomping at the bit because The Mistress is always waiting, always in need of him and there's never enough time (or money) and I realized that I had forgotten the number of the aide who was supposed to meet us at the very locked gate and so we were standing outside for quite a bit and I felt like banging my head on the gate and just being done with it but I had to not over-react like The Husband so I did what I do best which is re-act and I acted calm and logical and figured out how to call inside the fortress and soon someone came to help us and all was well there. The Husband left for the Mistress and I left to go home and let the extra dog out and bring the regular dog to the dog groomer for a bath in an attempt to get rid of the godforsaken fleas that are, apparently, resistant to all the flea medication that I'm thinking is just tiny drops of water that I'm carefully putting on the dog's shoulder blades like some kind of white bourgeois asshole. So the dog I'm babysitting, named Sat Nam, goes outside in the yard and I run off with the other dog and drop her at the groomers and then I race to Pasadena because I'm in a radio show, yes, a radio show where I'm sitting in a room, a real live radio show room with the headset on and the enormous microphone in front of my mouth and I get to hear myself talk and talk and answer questions and you know I love it, it's fun because no one can see me and we're talking about the epilepsy walk which is a mighty good cause and the other woman who is doing it with me is gorgeous and cool and has a little son who has terrible seizures and when we're done we talk and talk in the parking lot because when you meet a person who has a child with seizures well, there's the world and then there's us and then I was late, so late, to go and pick up my three children in three different schools and I'm in Pasadena and I never know where I'm going when I'm in Pasadena so I get on the wrong highway and I'm just plain late but I finally get everyone and two extra boys and we go home and when we arrive the dog is gone he is not in the backyard the dog who we are supposed to be watching and perhaps adopting although I've already decided that hell, no, we're not adopting another dog even if the boys are already yearning for him but he's gone anyway and I have no idea how or why although there is a huge hole in the screen door that leads to my bedroom so the dog was evidently frantic trying to get in and the bits of screen are shredded and spread over the yard so clearly the dog was upset and I do feel bad but I also feel like there's nothing I can do, even though Oliver is sitting out on the front stoop crying about the dog and I tell him that someone nice probably picked him up and he has a collar with a name and a number so it'll probably work out and later it did, it did work out but not before Oliver had to go to soccer practice and I went and picked up another little boy from his afterschool program because he has a single mom and she has to work so I drive the boys downtown to soccer practice and she picks them up and brings them home and on the way home from dropping them off, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some groceries and someone, some stranger called and had the dog, had Sat Nam and there was no way that I could go get him at that point because the babysitter had to leave and it was already past seven o'clock and that's when I thought you really can't make this shit up -- the way that days go and I am just plain over-extended, taking care of dogs and boys and other people's boys and girls with seizures and being on radio shows and buying milk and dealing with The Husband and the Mistress. You just can't make this shit up.

Two Things

ONE

Sophie had her first real day of school yesterday, AND IT WENT WELL. It's a giant high school in the middle of Los Angeles, and she's in a rather large class of kids and young adults with various "issues," but we know several of them from her old elementary school, the teacher is a very cool guy, and Sophie's new aide seems terrific.

Whew. Can we all just wipe the sweat off our brows, breathe a sigh of relief and offer up thanksgiving? Hallelujah!

TWO


I'm going to be speaking about epilepsy and the upcoming Epilepsy Freedom Walk on a radio talk show this morning. The broadcast is called The Conner Bubble, recorded out of Pasadena City College. It's a call-in show, so if you're interested you can listen on Lancer Radio, 88.9 on the FM dial. The show is from 12:00 PM -- 12:28 PM Pacific Time. Here's some more info:

Call-in Telephone Number: 1-626-585-7227 -- Call me with a question!


Live webcast: www.lancerradio.org (I have no idea how these things work, but I'm assuming you can actually listen online! These here internets are amazing...)

Mama Manifesto

I'm feeling old and would love it if you'd come on over to Mama Manifesto and make a comment.

a perfect re-telling

the moon from my back stoop tonight was exactly as worn as the moon of my favorite Yeats' poem

Adam's Curse


We sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, "A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world."
                                              And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, "To be born woman is to know --
Although they do not talk of it at school --
That we must labour to be beautiful."
I said, "It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough."

We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

Flowers in Fall

The dagger-like points of the silk floss tree protect these flowers:

Lemons grow in front of roses.

Purple abounds

And while I long, sometimes, for the crisp days of fall of my childhood, I know that these hot, dry days with the wide blue sky and blooming roses are better for me, for my moods on a Sunday for I am sun-soaked and warm, my thoughts are tempered by heat but smothered by cold.

If you're so inclined,

and looking for a good cause, somewhere to donate those extra few dollars in your pocket or change from the coin cup in your car, the interest from your trust fund or the remnants of your retirement package -- well,  here's a GREAT suggestion!

You can click on the logo on my right sidebar, up at the very top and either make a donation or join the Walk itself! It's at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena on Sunday, October 17th.

Immigration curiosity

Bob Dylan’s 1972 letter to the FBI, written to protest the immigration proceedings against John Lennon and Yoko Ono. (The FBI claimed they had been admitted to the country in violation of then-existing immigration law.) One of our guests today, historian Jon Wiener, filed a Freedom of Information request to obtain the more than 200 letters written by artists and celebrities on behalf of Lennon and Ono.


--from NPR's Fresh Air

Imagine

if he'd lived until now. Happy 70th Birthday, John Lennon --

Dreaming with Sophie

Periodically, my friends will tell me that they've had a dream, and in the dream Sophie is walking and talking and smiling and laughing. My heart leaps when I hear about these dreams. I imagine that my beautiful daughter's spirit is so strong and so filled with grace that she resides, sometimes, in my dearest friends' subconscious. It's incredibly comforting in a way that I can't articulate.

Just the other day, one of my oldest friends from college emailed me about a recent dream she had had with Sophie, and while I haven't seen Missy in many years, I feel intensely connected to her beautiful spirit and will forever be grateful for what she took the time to tell me:

I woke up dreaming "with" Sophie as they say in Spanish.  I was visiting you in your palatial home overlooking the ocean.  My boys were playing with your boys while you and I were spending time with Sophie in the living room.  She was lying on her back and I was bent over her gazing into her beautiful brown eyes.  I asked you what I should do if she started having a seizure.  Then, we went to the park and she was walking slowly in front of me...she turned around and asked, "can I catch up with the other kids?" who had run ahead.  I said, "of course," and she ran ahead.  My overwhelming sense in the dream was that you were taking such perfect care of her and that she was well-loved.

Gratitude

I have so much of it for friends like Gretchen. 


Click here.