End of year evaluations

It is that time of year: the end of it! It is so close and I am doing everything I can not to begin packing my car now.

Yes, I am anxious to get home for a visit (I've made a bucket list here) but I am also anxious to see next year's new opportunities.

I had my end-of-year evaluation yesterday in which I got to gush about some of the items on a long list I have been keeping for Open Gym re-vamp-age. Dennis and Meghann seemed pretty excited about the things I would like to see happen, from physical clean-up to more organized craft/game/activity offerings. We also talked about the hope for library changes and continuing with the food bank. And Meghann asked about my help in organizing funding and facilitating Civic Engagement.

But perhaps the most exciting prospect for next year was the idea of my role in the school. I had expressed interest in being in the elementary school and Meghann and Dennis were supposed to fill me in at this meeting. When I asked them about it, Dennis sort of took the vocal reigns and delicately told me that the elementary school principal/superintendent whom I'd taken issue with for some time had, in so many words, caught on to my distaste for her. I wasn't surprised since I'd made it rather clear in one of our main exchanges during an event a while back. But in retrospect, perhaps I could have been a little more cordial. "You will learn a lot about dealing with bureaucracy in this role" mentored Dennis. The two didn't seem upset with me personally, necessarily. But they had not pursued the idea of me in the elementary school because they were sure Karen would say no. However, now that she was leaving, we had a fresh start.

After talking about possible ways for me to be involved without spending too much on gas or confusing the teacher's reliability on me with such limited hours, we arrived at an idea I found especially intriguing. Apparently the school has been hoping for a recess monitor for some time, with an emphasis on behavioral management. This didn't mean discipline etc however, but meant teaching the kids positive problem solving and behavioral skills in creative ways through games and exercises. I was thrilled. I had done some reading on the topic this year and it just seemed meant to be that I would take this role where I had reason to invest in even more learning of those methods and had an environment to practice them in.

I feel hopeful next year. And I feel like it will demand more effort and work than this year but I am determined to challenge myself.

The Planet Portland Saga: Sweet, sweet Sunday

Adequately cider-ed and summit-ed, we have one last freebie day in Portland. I am up early to experience one last yoga class at YoYoYogi. This one is going to be led by Alex. He and his wife had been playing receptionist the day before and I had not realized that they were the owners. I read his profile on the site and came to find both he and Terri had pretty wild backgrounds as glitzy performers, meeting and falling in love in Hollywood before retiring to lame corporate jobs. When those didn't suit them, they up and left around the country, keeping a blog for 101 days about a new yoga studio they attended each day. Hence how they found their calling. I am excited to see what Alex has in store.

His class is called "soul shaken' yoga" and it does just that. Beginning with drumming and chanting, he sets the tone with a theme: Love and self love. After a moving proclamation himself, Alex shares a stunning poem by none other than Charlie Chaplin. "I think mr. Chaplin might have been a bit of a yogi himself" he quips after sharing

As I Began to Love Myself – Self Love Poem by Charlie Chaplin

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering

are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth.

Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody

As I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time

was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this

person was me. Today I call it “RESPECT”.

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life,

and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow.

Today I call it “MATURITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance,

I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens

at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm.

Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE”.

As I began to love myself I quit steeling my own time,

and I stopped designing huge projects for the future.

Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do

and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in

my own rhythm. Today I call it “SIMPLICITY”.

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for

my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew

me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude

a healthy egoism. Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF”.

As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since

I was wrong less of the time. Today I discovered that is “MODESTY”.

As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worry

about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where EVERYTHING

is happening. Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT”.

As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me

and it can make me sick. But As I connected it to my heart, my

mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this

connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART”.

We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems

with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing

new worlds are born.Today I know THAT IS “LIFE”

Alex leads a vigorous class that makes us sweat but his soft-spoken groundedness guides me through and charges me in the poses. As we wind down, the music shifts, his tone gets quieter, and we fold onto our mats as he comes back to the intention and talks once more about self-love. And now I find myself crying. 

I go up after class with my damp face to embrace him and thank him for such a gift. Any yoga I have been doing since makes me think back to that class. 

Back at the house, Mary and Justin get ready and we head out for our grocery portion of the trip (never do an out-town excursion without tackling errands). I am a bit out of sorts and decide not to get my additional Michael's shopping done because we are waiting to try and sort out plans with my friend and communication has proved difficult. With no where else to wait and not wanting to waste the day away, we head towards Washington Park which is home to both the Rose Test Garden and the Oregon Zoo. We figure we can wait in the roses but when I mention the zoo, Mary's face lights up. And Justin discloses that he's never been. Plans with my friend don't pan out and so we venture off to the animal kingdom. The spontaneity hits and we are filled with a vertiginous enthusiasm as we approach the gate. 

The first animal to catch my eye is a massive Mountain Goat asleep under a rock face. I'd never realized the things were so damn huge! Fur matted almost into dreads, he looks like a wise one whose seen a lot. 

The zoo is split like continents and we wind our way from the arctic on through Asia and Africa. We have to meet Tony at our dinner destination around 4 so we don't have time to see everything but we do have some favorites that we linger around more than others. I get into a very engaged conversation with a security guard named D who passionately talks about conservation and the palm oil controversy (and fact drops that the otter we are standing by has one million hairs per square inch of their body!) and when I finally break away to catch up to Mary and Justin, they are almost to Asia. There, we become captivated by the Sun Bear (also known as Human bear or Honey bear). His anatomy is funny enough - long angled nails on slender feet to dig for termites - but his behavior takes the cake. He strolls out with a giant pompadour looking hairdo which we cannot tell is part of his bone structure or just lots of fur. Only when he tilts his head back after lying down do we find out that it is like flubber! In fact, his whole body is flubber, like a giant loose blanket of fur draped loosely over his body! hilarity ensues every time he moves as he flails around a quarter-sized wood chip to try and find termites, getting it caught on his fur and poking around over, under and on his body to find it again. 

 

We linger at the Chimps, are awed by the enormous porcupine and the boars with four tusks. We run out of time in Africa and dart through the last portion, still stopping here and there when we can't resist. Justin is a bit miffed by all this but we count on it passing. 

We meet up with Tony around 4:30 and everyone is a bit confused as to why we have to be at Apizza Scholls. The Bar of the Gods next door is small and quiet - easy to slip in and out - so we go have a drink. When we poke our heads out at a quarter to 5, there is a line of at least 15 groups. Now they get it. I discovered Apizza Scholls back in November with my mom and friends (that excursion posted here) and convince everyone that it is worth the wait. The establishment is a top notch quality pizzeria, preparation of the evening beginning from scratch each morning at 7am. When the dough is out, it is out. 

We are the first table to be put on the wait list and settle in at the bar, prepared with drinks and appetizers. Not too much later though, we are told a reservation did not show and move to our table! 

It takes one bite for the verdict to be  reached: worth the wait. 

For better or worse, after feeling comfortably full we decide to walk to the next neighborhood over to experience some Salt and Straw magic. The line there is even longer but moves rather quickly. This month's specials: Cocktail flavors! I get a lemon Amaretto with homemade vegan marshmallow fluff and a coconut ice cream, gluten-free caramel-chocolate-cookie wonder thing that is new to the regular list. Our taste buds glow. Back at the car, our stomachs say maybe we tipped the scale slightly. 

It is late and we are driving back tonight. I probably speed half the way down 12. Back home, we shuffle our necessary belongings inside and leave the rest of the unpacking for tomorrow. A Planet Portland weekend concludes appropriately with weary, smiling faces and abrupt collapses into bed. 

The Planet Portland Saga: Have a bit of Solstice with your Cider

It’s the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. One of those days that beacon ceremony. In the midst of one of the more indulgent weekend I’ve had in over a month, I am intent on cultivating some semblance of sacred homage. I’ve once again coaxed yoga back to my body as a daily staple. In the last month, it has become as impulsive as morning coffee and the morning coffee in turn, retired to an un-temptable high kitchen shelf. My soul is still goddess knows where, beneath the skin cells, muscles and tendons. Or beyond. My breath still lives perched in the shallows of my collarbone, like a baby bird trying to jump nest without wings; if you leave home unprepared, you’re risking great injury. But at least my body shows up every day. It is a start. 

So being in Portland for a weekend, I am like a kid in a candy shop as I peruse the mother load of studios. I’m not in the boonies anymore. Yogi is probably like some evolutionary/adaptive gene you automatically inherit if you live in Portland, and they know it. Good luck finding a studio under $15 drop-in. I scan over half a dozen websites - waxing calm and sophisticated with traditional class titles, highly motif-ed with the intimidating sanskrit names, and contemporary and overenthusiastic with non-descript class titles like “hot lava” and “Jammin’”. I am skeptical of the “hip” lingo but that studio is one of the closest so I investigate YoYoYogi further and opt for the “Jammin’” class after the description of the instructor wins me over with the credentials of having trained under my latest inspiration, Ana Forrest.  

Far too familiar with the complications of downtown driving and parking in Portland, I’m eager to head out early. Sure enough, after thinking I’ve escaped the curse and finding easy street parking across from the building, I am confounded by the technicalities of the pay machine and end up paying double for the measly 1.5 hours, a misunderstanding that has me rushing into the studio room to happen upon at least 30 people quietly bent deep into a child’s pose.I am the last that could have possible fit in the room and roll out my mat cornered next to an awkwardly angled wall. 

Logistics behind me, the class is refreshing. I am infused with a new kind of motivation among so many yogis. Jill integrates Forrest words of wisdom and I wonder if this is what her classes feel like. Jill almost looks like her. The poses go deep - warriors and moons, challenging my legs. The salutations grow, starting slow in each pose and becoming swift, fluid motions. At the end of the class, I feel like I’ve shed a bit of dust. I make a somewhat counter decision to go around the corner and break my coffee hiatus but it feels relaxed. I take some time to write. 

Morning portion of the solstice observation concluded, it is time for a bit more happy hour. I pick everyone up at the house and we head back down for our last day of the Summit. I look at my single pathetic, worn complementary ticket, the last of the eight we started with the day before.  We head to the tent to buy more. Today I have looked at the book. I have read the listings and made a list. I have missions. The day must conclude with eliminating at least half a dozen from the list of possible cider purchase options. But there are also more I am curious about. 

Their truck in front of me on the way back from yoga.
Little did I know that they would become significant in my
life later that day : ) 

I imagine the drier-sounding ones are best to start with so we head to the tent for Atlas which claimed an Apricot cider, reeling me in with weird flavors once again. 

Atlas is an instant favorite. I am curious about the Apricot and the Elderberry so they give me a free sample of one, leaving me wiggle room to try both. The Apricot is incredible. Unlike most of the other fruit alternatives, I can actually taste all of the subtleties of the Apricot fruit. Even though it is a drier cider, this makes it very palatable. It goes on my shopping list. 


We head to Virtue Cider next, which I had failed to notice until that morning is from Fennville, MI (my farmy home away from home from my time at Kismet). Not only are they from right down the road but they seemed to know Mari well. My face lights up, feeling tingling for home. I chat with them for a while. Their "Mitten" cider is crisp and tastes like green apples rather than red, although they use Macintosh, Red Delicious and another red variety. I am told this is because of the unfermented juice used and the barrels it is aged in. 

The last on my list of curiosities is Blue Mountain's Cherry. The man behind the table greets me with "Welcome Back!" and I insist that I was never there. He insists I was and I wonder how much I've drunk. We move past it and I extend my glass for the Cherry. Taste-blown again! "You guys have the first cherry cider I have actually enjoyed."Andrew is a friendly guy and despite my apparent memory lapse, carries on a nice conversation about the process and the farm. He is one of the family members, roped into a business of cider making that has been around since the 50's "long before many of these other guys." The family owns 1,300 acres of farm all in one spot in Walla Walla where they grow all of their fruit. "Come on through sometime and we'll show you around. I give the tours!" 






I have a few extra tickets so I get a treat that ends up getting put on my shopping list. The folks at Carlton Ciderworks are almost as energized as their whacky sumo-wrestling logo, a temporary alteration to their original British ruffians in a fight, as a way to promote their Asian Pear flavor (is that...wrong?) What is their most popular though, is the Auld Lang Spice so I fill my cup and experience another slice of pie. 

We mingle a bit longer after our tickets are out, lovin' on the plethora of furry canine friends about and chatting up their owners. We also run into our teammate Mackensie who had been the reason I knew about the summit at all. 

Our last stop is the "gift shop". The verdict is in and I have settled on four bottles: 

-Anthem's Apricot
-Blue Mountain's Cherry
-Portland Cider Company's 'Sorta Sweet' (which I totally forgot to put in my notes to write about but they were delicious and their sweet was perfect because they use only fresh squeezed juice and nothing else to sweeten.)
-Carlton's Auld Lang Spice

I am anticipating a drum circle that I had found online to celebrate the Solstice and try out my new drum but we have some time and the others are vibin' on some pool so we head in the way of the drum park and keep our eyes out for a tavern. We do find one with 75-cent games and play a couple. I can't decide if I am hungry but there is nothing quite suitable there for me anyhow so I feel kind of side-tracked. Pool is fun though, and Tony DJ's the tunes with some well-loved classics. By the time we leave, I am definitely ready for some drumming so I enter temporary grump mode when we are confronted with a sea of carnival fare and birthday parties at the park I have an address for. I scrounge around back on the site and find a new address posted so we rush out, leading another lost car along with us. 

At the circle, my three friends venture to find something they are more inclined towards and I grab some potluck grub and settle in. As I finish my food, I catch eyes with a familiar face - family from the Montana gathering! We embrace and then get ready to drum. A space is made for me by Elo who becomes new friend. Beautiful souls dance. They sing. They chant. They drum. As I learn to get comfortable, my hands go back and forth from being possessed with rhythm and then sometimes floundering a little as I become to aware and try to change it. At the end, my hands hurt blissfully. 

I drive to meet the gang at the Limelight bar down the street and am convinced to stay for a game of pool. The atmosphere is of a fun, local beat. Portland artist have the works featured on every once of wall and the outside of the building dons quirky murals. I find a novel cocktail to sip through the game, a chai Russian made with in-house chai and soy (near impossible to find a Kahlua drink/"cream" drink veganized!) 

The night air is warm and we mingle outside for a bit longer before finally making all of our party to the car. Time becomes more ambiguous as the void of day lengthens. The summer effect takes hold. 

The Planet Portland Saga: So you think you know cider?

On Thursday night, all of my reserves for tossy-turny anticipations have been tethered in to more immediate events; tomorrow I will have a real weekend. I will be reminded of what leisure tastes like. And for the first time in my 6 weeks of indulgent-free living, I will be reminded of what cider tastes like. Time for the Portland Cider Summit!

On Friday morning, car loaded, I am off with Mary and Justin to the far-off Planet Portland (I think Buzz Lightyear and Woody and Pizza when I say this). I sound like a stereotype. I am giving into the hype. No matter what way I cut it, I always fall under the Portlandia effect. I act like the city is friggin' wonderland. I don't care. 

I tend to look at the first few hours of any trip as an indicator of what sort of energy we will be dealing with, usually relating a lot to how plans flow. About 40 minutes down Hwy12, Justin realizes his wallet and ID are at home, locked securely in Mary's car. After an abrupt pull over which solidifies me in horrible standing with truck drivers everywhere, we sort out a solution. An amazing friend of theirs agrees to pick Justin up, drive him back and drive him the full length of 12 back to meet us at I-5. I have an appointment in Centralia so the timing should be fine. 

It is perfect. We arrive at our meeting spot practically simultaneously. We will be staying with my friend Tony for the weekend so that is our first stop and arrive there just as he is coming down the street from work. Impromptou timing adjustments that pan out for the best: I'll take that vibe for the weekend. 

Eager not to let city parking complications be the bane of our good cheer, we head down early to find some good eats. Parking is surprisingly reasonable - an $8 lot for the day - and not too far from either the event venue or the Sushi we've all found ourselves craving.

Perhaps becoming one of my favorite cuisines in the past couple of years, I don't go for sushi often enough. It makes it a treat though, and the atmosphere is such fun for a communal dining experience. By now, I am fully ready to abandon my stringent restrictions and savor a meal without thinking about its micro-components. And I am ready to try some new things. I order my veggie go-to avocado roll but I can feel adventure coming on.While we wait for our food, Tony and I get my first Sake to share. After trying the traditional hot Sake that Justin orders, I realize it may not be an "authentic" Sake experience but I'll take my luscious dessert in a glass over a burning throat. The food comes and I warm myself up with familiarity before extending my chopsticks to the Ginger Salmon amazing video is totally relevant to my post now, right?
sushi on the table. The roll contains both cooked and raw and I brace myself for the slippery-looking flesh. And then I unclench as it goes down my throat, tastes buds aborting the rebellion. It takes a bit more nudging to get a piece of Tony's roll into my mouth; I hear eel and think of the scheming Little Mermaid villains. Again though, my taste buds surprise me. "I feel like Simba" I weigh in. "Slimy...yet satisfying." (Score three for Disney references so far? So that means that sneaking in this

Now its time for what we came here for. Sweet, garden-o-eden nectar. On our way over, we walk through a small park built up from an old railway and boat parts where we get sidetracked by a heartwarming display of waterfowl affection. The park is the first in the city to have a self-contained rain-water treatment system. It seems important to drop knowledge bombs like this in Planet Portland.

At the gate, it is pointed out to me that I was to responsible in buying my tickets in a timely manor; I hold in my possession a Berkley Summit ticket for the corresponding event back in April. It is explained to me I will have to purchase a full new ticket, as they cannot verify whether I did or did not attend Berkley. I fail to see how they could fail to see the truthiness in my wallow-y, disappointed face.

Shake it off. Its cider time.

The vendor tents are lined up along the whole outer edge of the small, circular park. Tony and I head to our left staring at the eight little green tickets in our tasting glasses; a coveted currency to spend wisely. Taking a glimpse on our way in, I had recognized many of the labels and found myself thinking I'm a Cider-consuming pro! I've tried so many! But as we approach our first booth, I have a sudden realization of where I am. I am at a Cider Summit. I feel a bit silly realizing this, but seriously. My approach thus far has fallen under the casual layman umbrella but I am now putting "summit" into various contexts in my mind and realizing this can connote a far more involved art form/expertise/dedication. After watching the documentary Somm a while back, I know my vocabulary for cider characteristics must pale in comparison to the enthusiasts here. I express my sudden revelation to Tony who chuckles and joyously states he's just ready to drink some cider. We are a apple-y reflection of a Sideways duo.

Where better to begin but where we are. Swift Cider hales from Portland inspired by the migration of a regional feathery species of the same name, their annual presence coinciding with the start of apple season. Naturally inclined toward the "exotic" flavors, I opt for their Boysenberry. Described as a semi-dry, it meets expectations and satisfies a pallet that has been shifting its preference from sweet to dry lately. Described as having "less residual sugar than your normal berry cider", it feels lighter, airier, suitable for summer.

For most of the day in fact, I find myself gravitating towards these crisp, bright brews. Rogue has always appeared too "unsophisticated" for me but now I find myself drawn to their diversified graphics stating "fruit salad" and "pink gin." I am intrigued by both but Pink Gin wins out after I ask the man at the counter to give me his two cents: "Well, Pink Gin, cause I created that one." I am a broken record: "bright, airy, crisp!"

It is tempting to go for Schilling, their Ginger cider being a favorite. I want to start with brands I've never heard of. They have many more flavors than I realized, including a Chai cider taunting me with a display bottle to promote its release in the fall. Tony does cash in and allows me to sample what will be his weekend infatuation feature: Nitro Hops Cider. I am skeptical, not being a hoppy person, but it is surprisingly delish. Maybe I am just tasting the hype of Nitro, a method of infusing the cider with a "super charged" effect (or something). See how I just dropped some expert on ya, son? (suuure...)

I do my best to keep track of what is what, feeling it would be a blasphemous disservice to muddle them all into one sweet-tooth-bubbly category. Many of the crisp samples start to blend together but as we continue around the circle, more memorable tastes interject. I avoid international vendors but stop at Vermont-based Eden when I notice their Ice Cider offering. They fill the glass just enough not to get sick of it. The equivalent of a fine dessert wine, it is thick and syrupy and goes down smooth. The price is also hiked just enough to curb my temptation to buy it. The dessert portion of my liquid meal continues at D's Wicked Cider. Daniel is advertising his single brew as "Grandma's apple pie in a glass". My tickets are dwindling fast but I admit great curiosity. Tony buys in for the both of us and on one sip, I can vouch for honest advertising. We stick around to talk to the couple for a bit. Daniel just started up November after dabbling in experiments to find a cider that did not bother his partner's stomach. Voila, apple pie. They are not to far from Packwood - Kennewick, WA - but currently don't distribute very widely either. I foresee a Kennewick field trip in the future. We make two more stops before regrouping with Mary and Justin to sit and listen to some of the entertainment. The first is an unfortunately intriguing offer of Meyer Lemon cider. I am so deterred by the flavor I forget to even write down the brand. However, they did have a cool title based off the cider riots in England in the mid 1700's. I "squeeze" it down and rush to top off with an familiar favorite - 2 Towns.

The seating for the event consists of a few rows of concert chairs, grass (of course) and large round tables which lend themselves to group mingling. The atmosphere almost begs for strangers to strike up conversation and it makes me somewhat giddy (that and probably the cider). After taking a table, we a promptly joined by an old couple, Sue and Jim. Jim and I do a lot of talking about Ann Arbor, education, AmeriCorps, and DIY projects (cider, fermenting, pickles...) of which he has many since retiring. If I remember correctly, he originally has roots in Muskegon (or Detroit? I meet Michiganders out west on practically a daily basis when I'm in towns). Situated behind us is one of the few food vendors, Saint Honore Bakery. Jim and Sue get up a few times, coming back with a new treat each time and share samples with us. As infrequently as I eat those sorts of carb-y things, I seem to crave good-quality bread-goods. It quenches something inside.

We are veering into evening and decide it is time to head out on the town and find dinner. Mary and I make a stop at the State Farm tent to get a free henna design on our arm and then we leave, stopping at the car to drop off our collection of promotional stickers and gadgets.

I pull out a list of nearby restaurants that had sounded interesting and we vote on Henry's 12th St. Tavern. The restaurant is tucked away in a small alley and we sit outside among the high brick walls that remind me of a Viennese canal-way. Great choice. While we wait for our food, a group sets up and starts singing cover after cover of all of our favorite Packwoodian tunes. Later I run up to gush my praise at Steve Kreeger and his harmonizers. Then the food. I order the house-made veggie burger which tastes like a base of beets and rice and comes with richly seasoned waffle fries smothered in their signature gorgonzola cheese sauce. One of the first times I have ever finished such a sort of meal (granted I eat the next half the next day). I have to admit utter satisfaction with the fries. The burger surpasses many of the less flavorful attempts I’ve tasted when eating out, especially with their house-made spicy mustard. For once, I eat the full bread bun, satiating that desire once again. Pleasantly full, we head back to the house and call it a night. Time to rest up for another full day. 

winding down, revving up

For the last few weeks, I've been feeling rather lethargic at open gym. With the sun kicking' it high in the sky, we've booted the kids out doors. They're pretty self-sustaining out there and it usually leaves me in  the grass, basking with a book. I find myself grumbling to have to get up to open a door or get the snack before I remember that my relaxation is the anomaly, not its interruption.

I have an ever-expanding list on how to out-do the Open Gym next year. It's an exciting list and an intimidating one. Many of the ideas are too involved to implement right at the end of this year - I tend to need a particular "clean slate" feng shui for projects - but I know that I can't just passively set them aside or I will be just as unprepared to tackle them next year.

So i have begun dabbling in the smaller ideas to see how they take hold. Lately, I've been trying to have a new craft option every day. A couple of the younger kids got excited about paper bag kites a couple of weeks ago, although after we made them I realized the weather conditions were not conducive to testing them out. One young girl became interested in my knitting and although I knew she would not be ale to do a project, I gave my best attempt at teaching her the basic skill before Mary and Mackensie found a finger weaving alternative. I have all of these ideas stewing on how to engage the kids in more educationally oriented experiences there but I don't have the groundwork laid out.

I do officially have a new partner picked out for next year though. Perhaps her background in marketing will help with figuring out how to market my ideas to a passive community.

One of the groundwork projects is to make the Open Gym that the kids care about caring about. With its leaky roof and disarray of useless oddities, it is hard for me to care about keeping it in order, let alone a bunch of kids whose forte is not accountability of their own messes.

The roof scenario is infamous. We ask the school for help. The school says they'll look into it. The school does nothing. Repeat each year until homicidal or apathetic.

A few months ago, Mary and I had the honors of engaging in one such conversation which ended with the superintendent turning the whole topic on its head to complain about how "we really don't see what you do" and "could you come to a board meeting and tell us what you do?" I'd been significantly more irked by the whole blunder and when it came time to prepare our board meeting presentation, I was anxious to give them a piece of our mind about our needs. However, our team decided that with the new twist of having a new superintendent next year, we should just focus on highlighting our precious qualities. Leave out the bitching.

So with as friendly a face as I could muster, I agreed to present the Open Gym portion and make no mention of our roof. The presentation went well. I caught nods and impressed gazes as I spoke about the Open Gym's role beyond academia to connect with and support the kids. When I got the text from Meghann shortly after leaving which said they had finally passed a plan to redo the roof - perhaps as soon as this summer - I was thrilled.

I have such a love for this town and this community. One weakness of AmeriCorps is that many cannot afford to stay over two years. If they could, I think the improvements it could make would surpass expectations by leaps and bounds. You don't learn parenting in a year. You don't learn a community in a year. In all the "firsts" I have had this year, there have been notes on how I can do even better. So I am excited for next year, to see where this learning can lead. But I know there will be more learning, and always be more that can be done...


As for now though, a break and restoration is in order! I am counting down the days until my family makes it out here (27) and have even started piling what I can into boxes since I will be moving to the other side of the duplex. It has been quite an exercise to navigate how to stay in the present and quell the anticipation while everything in me wants to think about what is next!

Building Beds!

Today was a pretty glorious day. Yes, the sun was out, the birds were chirping, the breeze was blowing and summer was doing it's general summering thing that it has been gracious to bestow upon us rather consistently the past couple weeks. But that was not the prime beauty of the day.

Today, we started to build our Packwood Community Garden!

Like my methodology for many unruly, overwhelming projects, I'd been feeling like I'd been dragging my heels, relying on logistical setbacks as convenient excuses to disguise my very not logistical disposition of perpetual intimidation. When we finally received the garden agreement and signed last Thursday, I was coming down with a cold, and yet had another excuse to admire my yet unsullied idealized vision from the comfortable distance of conceptual daydream. 

Luckily, I have been developing override software for this backwards human error and the updates are gradually getting speedier metabolism. So despite my irrational sluggishness, I went ahead and got out the e-mails, made the calls and picked some dates.

I didn't have the wood, didn't have a truck to get the wood, didn't have nails, and certainly not any experiential expertise. But just as I had with the Talent Show, I knew I needed to go ahead and get some action acting up. 

Fortunately, I have a diligently committed, albeit small core team. When I e-mailed one of my helpful cohorts to try and figure out a contact for who might have a truck I could meet up with for wood, he e-mailed back saying he had it all scheduled to meet Robert at the hardware store on building day to pick up and cut all of our wood. ___ is a retired man who loves to boast every day as a weekend and travels to Guatemala and Italy and other far off lands in the midst of his busy Packwood days of hiking and building projects and fine wine collecting. Living a life he loves has made him a loving and generous man and having led a community garden in Tacoma and being proficient in business, he'd been an intrinsic part of the group. I had worked most closely with him and on building day, Sarah and her kids all came to help. Having seen his interactions with Elie in a meeting before, I was a bit worried. He was a great teacher but very opinionated, hard-lined and could certainly be taken as condescending to some. The kids had very gentle personalities so I couldn't tell how they took his presence, but when lunch time came around and he offered to treat everyone to pizza and sodas, he undeniably won some major kudos points; extras from Cooper when he asked the bikers at the restaurant if Cooper could sit on their motorcycle for a picture. 

But back to the building. It went beautifully. And of course, it felt amazing to finally see a product coming together. It took some time to get all the wood and tools to the park but building the beds themselves was relatively quick and un-complex. Why on earth had I been fearful? Working in a rather overgrown area, we'd begun to dig out the space we wanted to use, when ____ said he would run to the store and contribute a weed barrier to lay down under the beds. Otherwise, we probably wouldn't have even gotten to building today. We followed his advice for the construction methods and even Cooper, a spunky and eager 5-year old helped hammer in the nails and capture our progress on camera.

I hadn't bothered to advertise the event much. I figure that those who are not already avid gardeners or dedicated to the project would need to see some solid evidence before following through on their interests of participation. We have one more to build on Tuesday and then I figure we will have something we can present to the rest of the community that will captivate their attention more. And I need to pledge: no more sluggishness! 

After all, we don't want any slugs near our garden!

before

        

                                    

after 

Play Ball! (Just please don't cheer!)

By Sunday, I had run out of cold remedy, honey, and almost out of tea. I didn't have much else to go on so I had just been trying to sleep, rolling into bed before the sun had even burnt out the residue of it's glow from the sky. Yet even rest was hard. The new weekend neighbors reveled in evening games of baseball and as soon as I was vertical, the tickles and itches of my esophagus would force me to strike up an unrelenting ballad of coughs.

Nevertheless, at 8am on Sunday morning, I was headed to Randle to pick up a car full of 7th and 8th graders and carry on to meet up with our large group of 20...and about 20,000 others at Safeco Field for a day of Baseball.

I was fortunate enough to have a pretty quiet car and I forewarned that I would be an incredibly boring chaperone. The kids let me stop at the pharmacy on the way up and a loaded on Cough drops and more remedy but the headache persisted throughout the day.

The game was still pretty enjoyable (albeit, I could have done without mass-crowd volume levels). Even as a non-sport person, I've discovered that the atmosphere of a baseball game is exciting to me. However, it was a whole different kind of headache to follow the game. I was constantly confusing myself on who I was rooting for because the Mariners happened to be playing the Tigers that day! Sad glad something to say the the Mariners won 4-0.

So, this old guy was suddenly sitting in the midst of our group....

The stadium itself was crazy-fancy and some of their finer fare actually seemed worth checking out if I ever find myself back there someday. Most of the kids opted for the standard sugar rush, though. This meant prompt crashes and naps on the way home. No complaints here!

Small treasures in a weary week

It seems I was infected by the flea. No sooner than the next day, I had begun to develop a bout of flu-y ick-y drudgery and by the end of the week, I had a fever. Amid the sunny, warming weather, Mary's exciting return and a subsequent visit from her sister, I was doing my best to carry out my bare minimum obligations (Before and after the fever of course) and missed out on most of the extra funzies.

Even the bare minimum wasn't so bare, though. At open gym on Wednesday, I had the pleasure of imparting my friendship bracelet-making hobby on to some of the kids. The next day, one of the moms was in the Thrift Store and told me how fond her kid was of me. "He talked about you for over an hour last night! His bracelet is so neat. He's great at those kinds of things." I was surprised to hear such praise come from one of our more erratic kids but I accepted it glowingly. It opened up an avenue with his mom that I'd never had access to, since most of the parents are just in and out each night. It also gave me insight as to how to engage him more in the future. Later that day, another parent told me how much her kid loved me and then at girl's night, I finally got to feel helpful at the teen center when I led a group game of "Fire on the Mountain" outside.

My soul feeds off of connection and as my body was all limping and mangled, the enrichment was extra soul-foody.

That evening, I also got a text from my very important Packwood kid who had suddenly been presented with yet another struggle on top of her already out-of-control life. I wrote monologues of support to her throughout the evening and we arranged to take a walk the next day.

Friday was the day I found out I had a fever, so I willed myself to do next to nothing all day long so that it would be gone by the time I was supposed to take a walk. Mary came to my rescue with the flu remedy and I drowned myself in tea and broth and sun-naps.

After some necessary re-scheduling, we didn't end up walking until close to 6pm, so I had much more recuperation time. She took me up to the infamous Power House for my first time and we walked and talked for a good couple of hours. As even more difficulties were disclosed throughout our conversation, it became more and more difficult to suppress my yearning to throw myself into all sources of begging and seeking and learning and rallying to access the resources and aid that I felt so strongly she deserved. I kept drawing on the tried and true social-work wisdom about the importance of separating work from personal. I feel cautious and uncomfortable about my bias. Plenty of these kids have it tough here. But it was her poignant description of her experiences; her resignation to put all else before her; her draw to trekking through off-beaten trails and camping in fields under open sky; her innate wisdom that had to come from some journey-guided gift she had, given the poor influences around her; her potential. I can just see so much potential. And yet it is not my place.

The sun was beginning to set as we finished our walk and although it was far later than I'd planned, I didn't care. My biggest tool out here is simply my time. And I want it to reside with those who don't have much of their own to find themselves in.