our butterfly garden

C and I counted thirteen black swallowtail caterpillars on our parsely yesterday. We have had a plethora of different butterflies tickling our blossoms and gracing our garden with their presence this year, and it has made my children and I quite the aficionados of these garden pixies. I have tried to take some photos of them this year, and am also working to plant a very butterfly-friendly front yard filled with fun foliage for our frolicking friends!

...so stand by for snapshots!

Scrappy the Super-Dog

He is the newest member of our family of stuffed animals, C's little doggy. He named him Scrappy.

Of course, being C, it comes out as "Crappy, the Super Dog"...

reaction?

Who knows, by this point in the game. It is so darned frustrating.

Last night as K and I got ready for bed (she had a fantastic little birthday party for B...and of course I accompanied her! Couldn't miss out on all the fun...I mean, Cheesecake Factory, for goodness sakes!) and played our "little-brother-isn't-around-to-destroy-so-let's-play" games, I felt the headache coming on. This was about 8:30 p.m. and fortunately K and I decided we were too tired to go on so we went to bed.

Throughout the night I could feel the headache getting worse.

I awoke this morning with such an intense pain that I tried to go back to sleep and make it go away. I tried sinus stuff, but it didn't help--although the hot shower this morning did, I can't stay in the shower all day long. By 10 a.m. I could not even move and was nauseous and in tears.

A perfect, sunny, 85º day and I completely wasted it away in an achy stupor.

Causes? Did I eat something I shouldn't have and reacted? Was it the "cold front" that went through today, causing "Me, the Human Barometer" to act up again? Hormonal imbalances? A mix? I don't know. I just know that I have taken some ibuprofen and, over the course of the past seven hours, become barely functional again.

Let's see if we can maintain functionality for a while! Today was not fun.

I guess I have always been a headache sufferer. My mother wrote in my baby book of, when around 2 years old, I would hold my head and scream, and she wondered if I could possibly be suffering headaches. I have had headaches since late elementary school that I can remember, but my worst times were in my 20s, when I would frequently suffer those akin to that which I had today, completely debilitating.

But that is nothing.

*--------------*

Today a good friend informed me of the birth of a new baby girl in the family--at 31 weeks, the mother was sent to the hospital with severe preeclampsia and they had to operate to get the baby out. She has yet to develop her external ear lobes. Prognosis for survival is not yet known. So sad...my prayers go out to that family.

*-------------*

Mom would like to come to visit in November. That is a nice month to visit, normally. Plus, being K's 6th birthday and Thanksgiving all together, it would be extra-special. We haven't celebrated Thanksgiving together in many, many years. I would like that very much. Now...what to do about the sleeping arrangements?

*-------------*

And that is my weekend round-up. Hopefully the week will be uneventful and pain-free for us all.

my little "Juan Querendón"

Ok, I took the title of my current Univisión telenovela. It's so appropriate, though...

I had two class mothers comment to me on what a sweetheart my little boy is today. I guess that, while dropping their children off at the classroom, my not-at-all shy little boy went right up to talk to these mothers, completely initiating a conversation and leaving them with hugs at their departure.

His teacher, Mrs. F., smiled to me as the Young Prince was leaving, saying that he always kisses her hand.

What a little querendón.

Now if we can just perfect the pulling-down-of-one's-pants that are snapped and zipped and not simply elastic-waisted--well, then we'll just have the perfect little man, ¡a sus órdenes!

...and almost as guapo as Eduardo Santamarina himself! :)

Econ 101

Last night's dinner conversation revolved around the library books that K had checked out from the school library since beginning Kindergarten three weeks ago. Last week she brought home a wonderful book titled Pictures from Our Vacation, a Newberry Award winner. I was telling her how proud I was of her that she could read so many words, even some of the big words, all by herself.

We then got onto the topic of motels.

The family in the story stayed in a motel called the Shangri-La. The sign out front said it had a pool, which I am certain the children in the backseat were very excited to see, but they soon found out that there was no water in the pool.

This talk about a motel began our Econ 101 lesson for the evening.

-What's a motel?
-Well, it's a place you stay when you aren't camping but you aren't at home. We stayed in a motel in Oregon when we went back to visit 'Amma this summer.
-Oh, that wasn't a hotel? I thought that was a hotel.
-No, that was a motel. It was a nice motel but it was still a motel.
-Well, then, what's a hotel?
-Well, a hotel is where you go and a person is there to take you luggage to your room and there is food that you can order room service and it is all fancy-schmancy and everything.
-Oh, well, what happens if that person takes your things and doesn't bring them to your room?
-Oh, that person is paid to bring our things to our room, and usually we give them a tip, a little extra money, to make sure that our things get to our room safely. But I don't like to go to hotels because only rich people can afford to stay at hotels and I don't feel very comfortable around rich people.
-Yeah, we're not rich, are we?
-No, we're not rich.
Then K stopped, thought a moment, and said,
-Boy, Sheila is rich.
I looked at K and asked, -Why do you say that?
-Because they have all those toys.
-Oh.
-Yeah, I bet if we were rich we'd have a lot more toys than we do.

Instead of immediately jumping to the defensive as I would normally do, I simply let the issue lie with that basic economic observation. Personal choice versus economics--how could she possibly understand that I might not actually buy her all that her little heart desires even if I had the monetary resources to do so? I hope she might come to understand so as not to feel deprived. She has toys, she has books, and she has a fantastic imagination that permits her to discover fun inside or outside without necessarily having any toys with which to play. That was a parenting choice that I made, and every single parent makes different choices. The respect for the different choices is important, but my hope is that she can look back on her childhood and see riches of a different kind that she was given.

settling in

It is now the third week of the new school year and I am finally feeling as though the children and I have settled into our routine. They pretty much wake themselves up at the appropriate time each day thanks to the fact that I have them in bed at the appropriate hour each night. They know what to expect each day and where they are going. I have my student schedule that is becoming routine, and will be adding new classes around those which I already have.

Coupled with a rather predictable weather pattern in which we currently find ourselves, the routine is understandably comfortable--and comforting to those of us who thrive on routine, pattern and The Predictable.

*-------------------*

My student this morning mentioned that a supposed meteor hit the altiplano of Southern Perú over the weekend, making those who went to investigate this very UNPREDICTABLE event very sick due to extraterrestrial gases, according to the experts, accompanything this meteor. That part of Perú is where I visited in 2000, close to where Lake Titicaca joins the two countries, in Andean highlands that are between 10,000 and 12,000 feet in elevation. The air is crisp and clean, the skies are blue and it feels like you can actually peek into Heaven there. Imagine having your day violently interrupted by a huge steaming rock that fell out of that sky...

They have had a lot of interruptions to Life As Normal in that country lately.

*------------------*

I dreamt about Thailand the other night. It must have been a dream triggered by the recent news regarding the plane crash on Phuket of all the tourists in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. I was fortunate enough to visit Thailand in December/January 1995/96 when the weather tends to be more stable.

I was walking along the beach of Koh Samui. The northwest beach was built-up in what I imagine to be Phuket-style, with the touristy hotels and pools and activities for the tourist trade. Not interested in this side of the isle, I left, walking south, in search of the Koh Samui that I knew, with the rustic bungalowes with no electricity and toilets we flushed with buckets and the vast beaches upon which I could lay on warm, white sand and have fantastic massages by the local ladies and watch pirated movies in small, dark restaurants serving steaming, spicy prawns...

The beach curved sharply to the east, and I was walking now away from the "Phuket" side and what I thought to be closer to the Koh Samui side. The beach seemed to go on forever, but I then realized that, to my left, there was a wall that was partially washed away. I understood then that this area was where all I had previously experienced used to stand--all the stands filled with natives peddling their wares, trying to find the tourist that would pay the highest price and not show too much bartering prowess. The dirt roads upon which you had to avoid the car, or the tuk-tuk, or the elephant that sauntered by. All gone.

-What happened here?- I wondered.

It then dawned on me that this area must have been hard hit by the tsunami of a couple years ago and has never rebuilt due to the fact that this side of the island became ocean, that all was washed away and covered with sand and water, returning the commercial side of the island to a pristine natural beauty that the natives decided to leave henceforth untouched.

*--------------------*

I have been revisiting my former voyages...wishing? Perhaps. But more than anything, in extreme thanksgiving for the great opportunities with which I have been presented to know our World.

morning chill

Autumn arrived early. I'm not quite ready for the nip in the air, although there still remains something glorious in twiriling around in the leaves that swirl with wind gusts on their journey to the ground.

That point has not yet arrived, however. It is the awkward stage, the straddling of the two seasons, the warm and the cold, the daily wondering which will win out over the other but knowing full well which, in the end, will win the war. It is Mother Nature. It is time for our summer to end.

Dressing like an onion has never been a strong point. I had a friend in Japan who taught in the high school that my host-sister from my first orchestral trip to Japan in 1990 attended, and he was affectionately named "onion-boy" by the student body. In Japan, these cold days did not mean that we could seek refuge from the outdoor chill in the warm embrace of our workplace; indeed, the only heated areas of the schools were the teacher's room and the individual classrooms. Hallways were a brisque slap-across-the-face of the reality of the outdoor cold. We thus had to dress appropriately, wearing layers upon layers that, over the course of a class period while teaching, would be inevitably shed, as the rooms were not only heated but the heat was maintained by 40 uniformed bodies.

Hence the name "onion-boy."

I am thankful that I no longer have to tread outside each chilly morning to fill my kerosene tank for my heater and turn on my heated toilet seat. I don't miss frozen sponges in my kitchen sink and frozen shampoo in the shower. Certainly, experiences like these make one much more thankful for that which one does enjoy, while reminding me that I really do not have room for complaint!

a sweetheart

My darling little boy is about 99.9% Boy.

With a capital-B.

The 0.1% is reserved for the Little Ponies and the Barbies that he inevitably, as Little Brother to Big Sister, must, by Job Description, not only play with but wholeheartedly enjoy.

This morning, when dropping Big Boy off at preschool, and while Big Sister entertained herself with the play-dough, The Young Prince's teacher (who, I might add, was also La Princesita's teacher when she was that age) said to me:

-Young Prince is such a sweetheart.
-Really?- I was surprised. No, perhaps relieved is a better word. -My little boy?
-Yes, he is just pleasant and nice. He's a sweetheart.

At that moment, all kinds of images rushed through my mind. The little boy who flooded my entire kitchen so that all towels in the house were called into active duty? The little boy who, while potty training, would take off his underwear downstairs and proceed to "color" all the pillows and carpet (off-white specked) with his poopy tushie? The little boy who can't quite pronounce "truck" adequately enough so that ladies don't blush upon hearing him talk about the monstrous beasts of the road and construction sites? The list goes on...

But these are isolated incidents. He is showing me that he does know how to behave outside of the home, with reports like that, which makes me even more proud of him than I already am.

*------------------*

I stopped by my former workplace this morning for a café date with an ex-coworker. We had a lovely time this morning, and I got to see some other of my previous cohorts. One, my "techie-dude", informed me of his son's untimely death this past May...

He was seventeen, about to graduate from high school with early admission to MIT, following in his father's footsteps. Only child, very bright, did almost everything with his father. And a hemopheliac.

Long story short, rushed to the hospital and needed an emergency kidney transplant and did not make it.

I feel just horrible for W and his wife.

All I could do was hug him, ask him questions to allow him to talk, and tell him I am so sorry.

*-------------------*
It is raining again today. Not too hard, but enough to make me feel good. The past two days have been dry and I have sneezed non-stop. The rain should rinse the air out and allow me to breathe freely again.

Time to go back to work. My illustrator A has come through with some dibujos excelentes for my text, so that makes me really excited! I can't wait to see how they look!

Happy Friday!

Facial reflections

Today is a no make-up day. I love these days. That means I can be a hermit, I do NOT have to mix with the masses--not even my closest friends for whom I almost always at the very least paint my lips.

I was never that big into make-up. Granted, in high school I would sneak it to school in my backpack to put it on in the girls' room before early bird classes; my mother forbade me to wear make-up. Had it been allowed, there would have been no need for the "sneakage-factor." I vow to not ban that with my daughter, but instead guide toward responsibility and good-taste in application.

I grew up with a boy whose PTA-active mother was an ex-Berkeley hippie and heiress of a certain very well-known luggage company. Rich. She wore so much makeup, with huge amounts of blues and greens on her eyes, arching all the way up to her eyelids, that she made Tammy Faye Baker look modest in her make-up application techniques. This contributed to my aversion to the made-up look.

However, even then I was only interested in putting some eyeshadow on my eyelids and some lipgloss on my lips. In college, I would never leave my dorm room without putting on lipstick; indeed, in the wise words of my sophisticated freshman year roommate (she was a junior), "one never knows when one might meet the Man of One's Dreams at the U.C." My university boyfriend always said he didn't like to kiss a girl who wore foundation, as it made him feel like he was eating clay. Ugh, what an image!

I have since only really graduated to a bit of eyeliner and lipliner, rarely using eyeshadow except for some workdays. Foundation makes me feel like a clown and I can't wait to get the base off my face if I ever have to wear it for some reason. Once in a very long while I might put on powder instead, but not much of that at all. Mascara is a thing of the past as well; I could never make it not touch onto the skin below my eyes--I must have long eyelashes--and would always end up with smudges and black marks below my eyes, just what I *do not* need!

Today is, hence, a day celebrating simplicity. After all, make-up is to make a woman feel good about her appearance. If I have no reason to worry about how I look, then I will just avoid mirrors today and all will be well!

la locura

The craziness. It has officially Hit. I think it was yesterday that I felt It the hardest, between all the school drop-offs and pick-ups and students (at least they were here and I did not have to travel) and the food preparation and the printing (my textbook, thank you very much!!!) and remembering to feed myself (thank you Paula for the g/f s/f popcorn treat!!!) and potty breaks for the Young Prince and laundry and...

Yeah.

Phew.

Makes me tired just to remember.

It all starts again this weekend, Saturday through Monday. The kids have classes, swim lessons, I have new classes, I *need* to be producing more on the workbook front (that which is accompanying my text) and finishing my editing of chapters 5-9 of this 1st edition, while planning out the next level for my text, chapters 10-?

Only one child in school this morning. I can't say yet if that is good or bad for me, but knowing that it is good for the Young Prince, that is all that really matters.

La Princesita and I have been playing Mancala at night before turning off the lights. It is a thinking game. This is an image of what the board looks, taken from Wikipedia.com. She sits on one end and has one large mancala cup and the six little cups on her side, and I have the opposite side. The object is to get the most marbles in your mancala cup at the end of the game. You must take all the marbles from one of your little six cups and drop them, from the next cup, one by one in a clockwise direction. If you drop the last of your marbles in your hand into the mancala cup, you get another turn. If you drop the last of your marbles in your hand into an empty playing cup (NOT your mancala cup) on your side of the board, you get to collect all marbles on your opponent's side, plus that single marble that was used initially to win those marbles (the one you dropped last from your hand when going clockwise). Requires some strategy and thinking. It's definitely good for both of us! It is also so much fun to play with La Princesita, now that she can logically follow and strategize a bit. Maybe I should find a Battleship game. Oh, and MasterMind!

Next...I need to get her going on cribbage!

Quiet as a mouse...

It was 5:30 in the madrugada, the sound of school buses warming up to begin their morning rounds droned over the crickets' tired chirps. Perhaps the crickets weren't so tired, but I was and could only imagine how exhausted I would be if I had to chirp all night long.

All still asleep in the house, so Mommy could get a few important tasks completed before helpful little hands would be reaching in over the knives to assist me in taking them out of the dishwasher and putting them away. I clicked on the radio, NPR, with the BBC early morning broadcasting only to those who choose to awaken this early, as I do each morning. Then the litany of the Putting Away of the Dishes ensued.

Perhaps it was the fact I had not adequately warmed-up, as normally I work top-to-bottom and unload the top rack (cups, glasses, little plates, lids, and the like) before I empty the bottom level but, for some reason on Monday I decided to start with the bottom and work up. I put away the silverware and the children's plastic forks, then get to the collection of Designer Tar-get (soft "g", "t" is silent, of course) Dishware, which are sets of mismatched but fun-colored plastic plates of all different sizes that I like to use and which can keep mealtime even more interesting in the eyes of the monitos ("I want that plate." "No, I wanted that one.")

I had five of those in my hand, heading over to their storage space on the counter when, suddenly I sensed slippage in the center...and all five plates fell to the tile kitchen floor with a crash that ought to have awaken have the dead in the cemetary next door.

I stood still, biting my lip.

Would anybody come running? I mean, Mommy could have easily fallen and broken her arm, or Tiggy could have jumped up and knocked something over or, worse yet, somebody could have broken into the house and, in not noticing one of the wisely-set booby traps of toys on the floor could have fallen...

...but nobody stirred. Not one soul.

Lessons learned:

1. Those plastic plates, for being light-weight and pretty and unbreakable and all, can make a heck-of-a-lot of noise when dropped onto tile at 5:30 a.m. I'm told the noise is the same at any hour, but it simply seems less amongst the din of the daily routine.

2. Nobody in this house will wake up and save me from anything, so maybe I should stop rising before everyone else! (nah, that would be too convenient!)

3. I am the only one in this house who will hear if someone breaks in so I had better never sleep! :) Fortunately, our house is so old that I think anybody would be afraid to even try.

4. Five plates at a time, no matter fine china or plastic Tar-get ware, is just too many. Period.

Will I actually learn from and/or practice any of these lessons? Probably not. I'm too stubborn. And now I must excuse myself to go and, um, empty the plastic plates out of the dishwasher yet again, so the day can begin.

Time with friends...while boosting the local economy

It was a fun morning. For the young-uns who do not get to follow their elder siblings to school each day, it is nice to be able to arrange a little something special for them while benefitting the Mommies who depend so much on each other for sanity, laughter, girl time--and to remind us of our original identities.

The morning's events began at Buckies...the new one! We got the comfy corner seats--as there were six of us total, we did not feel guilty one bit. It was hopefully the beginning of a schoolyear full of such once-a-week (at least!) encounters--some perhaps shorter than others but all important in their own ways.

As one mother-child pair of the group had to split ways, the rest of us decided to Go Shopping. After all, I had a list-a-zón of items to purchase and shopping is always wonderful therapy. Accompanied by a friend with a similar-aged child to keep mine occupied, I can get a lot done, search out the bargains and still end up spending $100. Ugh.

Then to Whole Paycheck, where went about $80 more on our family nourishment. And chocolate. No wine this time. But soy-free chocolate, so I consider that survival food in the light of all my sacrifices. Plus, I'm still losing weight, even though I am trying hard not to, so time to up those calories. Unfortunately, the chocolate is a lot less expensive than the, say, delicious avocados that are a whopping $3.69 each. Ouch. But those are the fats I would rather be intaking.

*-------------*

Business seems to be going well for now, a few new students as of this week, and I hope to be able to make this all work.

*-------------*

It is a rainy day, and there is what appears to be a parakeet on the loose in town. I called Animal Control, a local vet office and a bird hospital here in town. Nobody has had report of a missing pet bird, although another call has been made about what is presumibly the same little tweeter. It is a beautiful yellow bird, and has come within two feet of me on my porch. I have some raw sunflower seeds scattered on the front stoop now; perhaps I can coax this creature inside (locking my lug-of-a-cat up, of course!) and get it rescued.

The rain has been good for washing a host of allergens and pollutants out of the air. We have needed this rain, and my garden seems to be reaching to the Heavens in thanksgiving for the gift of water. It is an Oregon day, and I feel right at home.

At peace.

officially loose

La Princesita has her first official loose tooth.

This news has been met with great enthusiasm throughout the house, with little brother The Young Prince checking every few minutes to make sure he can still see it move. It moves--barely--but enough to be called "loose" and to require incessant monitoring.

Mama Llama, on the other hand, is feeling nostalgic. The days of the beautiful baby-tooth smiles are going to soon pass, to be followed by the awkward jack o'lantern grins that plague each and every child in turn. It is natural. It is Life. But it is yet another sign that my baby girl is growing up.

a mother of a spider

Usually, I refer to spiders in the masculine, not the feminine. Interesting. I'm sure either Freud or Lacan can find some reason for this association.

However, this morning's kitchen visitor was a MOTHER of a spider. Normally I find these huge creepy-crawlies inhabiting my basement, and I hurriedly try to trap them and get them outside before some sort of midnight-crawling-across-my-face encounter.

(That has actually occurred, in Japan, when I awoke to find a huge dead spider carcass smashed on the pillow next to my ear. But living in Japan was much like indoor camping, with only a layer of plywood and a tatami mat separating me from all the insect and reptile wonders that often found their way through the crevices into my small rural home. Definitely not Suburbia.)

Anyway, I screamed so loud that I'm sure She-Ra heard me from across town (?!) and my children actually allowed themselves to be torn away from Saturday morning Batman cartoons (following Scooby Doo, naturally) to find out what in the world had made their mother holler so. They were taken by the sheer size of the arachnid and, when I finally got my wits about me and could search for a container into which I could trap the creature and release it into the Great Outdoors, their eyes widened with anticipation: Would the spider jump? Would it run faster? Would it bite? If it bit Mommy, would we have to call the 'ambulance man'? I could see the questions jump into their minds.

The spider did, in fact, jump--as soon as I put Kana's plastic school snack carrier over it, then I slammed the lid on and, certain that I could get this ugly thing outside without it making its way out somehow and biting my hand, we all rushed out to the porch and I released the spider in a six-foot free fall into a bed of hostas--an environment much less hostile, I'm sure, to the eight-legged population.

Then Kana declared:

-I sure hope you're going to clean that container, Mom.

And they promptly returned downstairs to the comfort and safety of their predictable Saturday morning animated dramas.

A Ring of Endless Light

This was the title of one of my favorite books by Madeline L'Engle, who reportedly died yesterday. She was a poignant author whose books I adored and I read each and every one, perhaps several times each, when I was between the ages of 11 and 15. I wrote essays in school about her books and how they helped me through that horrible 8th grade year during which both my grandmothers died. I think so often about A Wrinkle in Time and how convenient the appearance of a form of tesseract would be in my life now, to bridge me and my here and now to other lands and loves.

Que en paz descanse. Que sepa cuántas vidas usted ha tocado y ha influido con su escritura.

hot latin...something!

"You have a nice body," she purrs as I relax following a set of bicep curls at the small gym this morning. Her Spanish-flavored accent is punctuated by a flip of her telenovela-type hair that any woman would die for. "Do you work out every day?"

"No," I say, "I have two children, I'm really lucky to just get here twice or perhaps three times a week." I feel awkward, sweaty, disgustingly gross in front of such a petite latin beauty queen was most likely simply blessed with skinny genes and marvelous hair.

It's so funny. The last time my body was commented upon in such a manner was by a lesbian gym teacher in the 7th grade. That is an incredibly formative time in any young girl's life as one deals with so many hormonal and body changes, and what could possibly be a most innocent comment can end in creating self esteem and self-image issues. That comment, for some reason, made at that time did not do me much good (perhaps having to do with the ribbing to which I fell victim from the rest of my friends following gym class that day), and memories of that encounter of almost 25 years ago flooded my mind for the remainder of this morning.

I don't feel like I look bad, and I am not fishing for compliments because I do not need them. However, the question remains: Why is it never a hot Latin hunk with great hair, a beautiful body and a musky scent who wants to whisk me away forever and... well, you know the rest of the story.

No, that would be too good to be true, even in the best of the telenovelas that Univisión can offer...and I'm probably too old and would be too scared, anyway! Now, maybe in my past life...!

English is a tough language.

I have been working.
I've been working.
I haven't been working. vs. I have not been working.
Have you been working?
You have been working/You've been working, haven't you?
Have you not been working? Haven't you been working?

Well...have you ever stopped to think about how a non-native speaker would tackle this grammar point of the present perfect continuous? Not only the formation thereof, but the adoption of the correct intonation, the adecuate enunciation of the contractions (especially the negative contractions), the natural rises and falls occurring between words and at the ends of sentences which lend nuance and meaning, the differences implied when using a contraction versus when not using a contraction...what is stressed, the subject or the action.

We take so much for granted, as do any native speakers of any language. Hats off to those who are making an honest effort to learn my mother tongue.

English is not easy. It sure isn't easy to teach it, either!

New beginnings

My baby girl started kindergarten today.

My baby boy will start preschool tomorrow.

I start with a new student tomorrow and continue on with slightly less-new students.

I feel refreshed, ready, and yet...>>sniff sniff<<...my baby birdies are slowly leaving the nest I have created for them.

La Princesita glowed as she told me about her school day. The Young Prince wanted to have his picture taken with his new backpack, too. Even had it all packed up, even though he didn't start school today. That means we are extra-ready for tomorrow.

I am validated in my feelings to know that I am not the only mother amongst my friends to shed tears today.

I am so proud of my babies.

I needed a change of scenery and a new name. How easy it is online to simply alter identity, assume alter-egos. I hope you enjoy!

September in God's time

Today was the first of September. It felt like a September day. The sky was a brilliant blue, that which we only see as an autumn sky.

I spent the day in the garden--more God time. I am finding God in so many more places that God made and less so in places man-made in God's name. I'm not sure why that is, but as I have always been drawn to nature, perhaps that is where God is calling me to find him now.

This is a difficult issue for me as I have been raised Catholic and in a firm, church-going household. I believe in God. I love my God. I want my children to grow up with a respect and a love for God as well, and believe they should be educated so as to be able to make their decisions as to how they must individually pay respect to God in their lives. I try to teach them in my home the importance of God in our lives, and how we can be God-like in how we treat ourselves and how we treat others. I try to teach as well a respect for all life, even the lives of the bothersome crickets currently invading our home.

I used to believe that my rather antisystemic point of view stemmed from a fundamental insecurity in my beliefs; that indeed, God would strike me down if I didn't attend Mass each week. I have come to see that, contrary to the point of view of many, instead I am extremely secure in my faith and am willing to stretch my relationship with God and question instead of being a mere blind follower...

So I, in the past 10 months, have made some realizations and some decisions based on these realizations. One great realization is that I have always done what others believe I should do for their approbation. That is not necessarily what is correct for me to do, but I do. I want people to be proud of me and to see me as doing what they define to be as right, even if it does not feel right in my heart. Some of this has to do with my manner of practicing my faith. There are other subjects that fall under this idea as well. However, God is the theme for today.

And I enjoyed the first day of September fully today--and in God's time!