Pearls

Henry woke up at 4:30.... I woke up at 4:30. Henry went back to sleep. If I wake up in the night I can go back to sleep, that is, if my mind stays in that blank woozy state where things are all mushy and thick. If I think concretely at all, I am up.... for good. So, yeah, I have been up for a while. It's ok though, I kind of wanted to be up early (not exactly that early) but before the sun shows up. School's going to start, my head and body needs to be moving toward that. I walk Chaucer for about an hour before school. Last year that precluded my biking to school, but this year, I think I have worked out a way that I can do both. But it means getting up about half an hour before sunrise every morning. Again, as terrible as that may sound, I am good with it. In my heart, I am a morning person. Its really only TV that gets in the way of perfect morningness. Those damn late night shows that are so good!

I woke this morning and watched a whole episode of Warehouse 13. Then I walked Chaucer for an hour in that stillness before the sunrises. God I love that time, when all the birds are still inactive and everything around me is just waking up. When its still cold out and even in August, I can still justify throwing on a barn jacket. Morning is for waking, and if you can manage it, some mornings your soul can wake as well as the rest of you.

This morning I hiked for an hour, rode my bike for five miles, made breakfast, showered and dressed before anyone in this house was awake. This is good.

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what you ask for

I planted my garden late. I just am getting my first fruits from it now. Radishes... They come up first and usually I am so happy to see them. I picked a bunch today, and put them in a little bowl for supper. They were terrible. I mean super astringent and a bit woody. These radishes, Cherry Bells, are usually slightly sweet and not as spicy as store bought ones. Sad.

As a teacher, I live in this world. Tons of effort and attention, and sweat and tears, and emotionally pushing into kids lives, and sometimes it comes to nothing at all. A kid sees you as a teacher and shuts off completely. I did this to all of my teachers, without exception, until I got to college, so I know about this. Who can blame them really. We all have experienced bad teachers. I ask my students sometimes about their  stories, and they tell me things that seem so amazingly bad... its hard to imaging how they came through it at all. So I strive against, sometimes a flood, of bad experience and try to undo a lot of damage. Not all teachers are bad. I have met some very good ones, but as with most things, it only takes a couple to do some real damage. Its no wonder really that a few students don't open up. Actually, its kind of a miracle that any of them do. But they do...sometimes unexpectedly like the sunflower that Nora picked from under the patio in the back of my house. The one that I didn't plant, that just grew there from the seeds that fell from the bird feeder above it.

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Mysticism

The Mystic Aquarium was amazing. It took about an hour and forty five minutes to get there. Both Henry and Nora really enjoyed it. The thing that struck me the most though was Henry. This summer has been about swimming lessons and riding bikes, things that he has to push himself to do, much less enjoy.  Finally, Henry was in his element. He was relating what he knew from the myriad books he has read to the real life animals. He walked through wide eyed , his brain clicking off information left and right. He was like a sponge. God I loved it. This is what learning is about. Research, knowledge, application and wonderment. He loved the seals, the jellyfish (of course) and touching the rays. (He just whispered that in my ear :)

The trip was interrupted by a semi-quick tropical style storm that dumped a ton of water on the park,  but we stayed indoors for that time and busied ourselves with the titanic exhibit and the Sponge Bob 4D movie. Actually, both kids kind of freaked at the movie. Nora left in tears and Henry demanded to sit on my lap. We spent about five hours at the aquarium and felt like we saw everything. Mystic itself seemed just a place begging to be explored. I may go back to do just that.

the end of swimming lessons

Well, neither of them graduated. Nora is a lot more confident then Henry is. He is still so scared of the water. The picture above is so typical of swim lessons. The brave life guard, deftly trying to talk Henry into jumping in, or dunking under, or floating on his back, or well, you get the picture. All the while, Henry is telling them that he doesn't want to, or trying to sidetrack them with conversation about microbes, or bargaining his way out of it. He truly is scared of it, and I tell him all the time that it is a brave thing that he is doing. Facing fears in all of their variety is so difficult. Its hard though because all that he sees is the three year old jumping in next to him. Nora used this as a catalyst to become a better swimmer than Henry, and I think it worked. Although, she didn't graduate either. I think that might have something to do with going to the beach instead of swimming in a pool. Both Henry and Nora just kind of hang out on the shore line at Comet when we go.

It all doesn't matter of course, they will learn at their own pace and I will consistently push them forward in it. It's important to learn how to swim. It's almost mandatory in New England. I told the kids that we could go out either for lunch or supper in celebration of the end. They of course went for immediate satisfaction and chose lunch. I spent a while trying to think of someplace fun to take them and ended up opting for something a little different. I went to Gardner (yes that is different, but that's not what I meant) and parked the car in the center. I told them that they were going to guide me through the center, we could go in any store they chose, and that they would decide the restaurant that we ate in.

We strolled past an amazing amount of closed down, run down, broken glass store fronts. Gardner has always had it rough, but man... crazy. We wen't in an old hobby store with train tracks and battle scenes set up all over the place. An odd little jewelry/dog treat store that actually looked like it could have resided comfortably in North Hampton. (We bought Chaucer a squeaky rubber duck to chew on... its presently lost somewhere in the house). They passed up on John's sport store, but couldn't get by Priscillas. Such a great candy store... homemade and awesome. They bought salt water taffy... who wouldn't!?

They reserved their decision until the last place that we looped back too, the Gardner Ale House. I actually really liked it there. It was packed! On a Thursday afternoon, packed. It seemed like it had absorbed all that was left of the customers in Gardner. I walked in and there was Brian, my well-dressed (I've never seen him in a tie before) cousin. I guess the restaurant is his client for food sales. He's such a good kid... well, man now I guess. I am glad to see him doing so well.  We sat, and I ordered a hummus sandwich. Henry had the kids pasta (because of the bread sticks) and Nora... well... the ubiquitous chicken fingers of course. I was skeptical of the sandwich but was really pleasantly surprised by a nice, fresh, well put together meal. I think I may go back at some point.

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Bun

Vietnamese cold noodle salad. Oh my. It has become such a treat in this house. The last time I made it it was for friends at a make shift bun party. (bun, pronounced like a scottish man says fun). Its so good! I got a recipe in one of my fine cooking magazines. I tried making it, but it wasn't until I actually went to a vietnamese restaurant and ordered it there that I got the hang of what it was supposed to taste like. I am in love.

It is made in layers. First, there is an herby, cold, leaf salad placed on the bottom of the bowl. I used lettuce, cilantro, mint and basil (the cilantro and basil were from my garden YAY!) Then, a bunch of noodles are placed on top (not too much though, I use Soba noodles or Udon sometimes. Both are readily available at Ocean State Job Lots of all places... and  cheap!) On top of that goes the searing hot protien of choice. I love the pork. I actually veered from their recipe for this because I didn't want to make the caramel every time. So I used their recipe for the marinade, and then just dumped a bunch of brown sugar in and let it sit. On the barbecue, it sears and caramelizes and becomes something incredible.

The one oddity in this recipe is the fish sauce. Its used in the marinade and in the Nuoc Chom (the amazingly good sauce that you poor over the bowl of bun right before you eat it.) Fish sauce smells incredibly bad.... like rotten fish, because it is rotten fish. But don't fear the fish sauce!! It, when used in correct proportions of other ingredients, becomes this deep, umami, yummy flavor that deepens the taste and rounds everything out. Also, it never goes bad. It sits, unrefrigerated, in a cabinet in my kitchen and has been there for two years, and will be there for many many more. Until I run out I guess. That, and a little bit of crushed, salted peanuts sprinkled over the top, and you are good to go! Oh Bun, how I love thee.

fields of sun

Henry and Nora came with me this morning. Its funny, they were looking for the grasshoppers from a few days ago and were kind of disappointed that they weren't there. I am feeling the sumer slipping away. This one seemed to go faster than others. Summers are a gift. I know that I don't make a whole lot as a teacher, trust me, I know, but the summers make it worth it. Its forced, unpaid time off, but man, a couple of months of straight out bonding with my kids. I can't get enough.

I find myself hunting for the same experience that I had as a kid, that kind of never-ending summer feeling, where you run out of things to do and it doesn't matter because that's what summer is for. Where you spend all deep in the woods, only showing up for a quick sandwich for lunch and then back for dinner. Where (and this somehow epitomizes it for me) you are so absent from expectation that you get caught up in the little dust particles floating in the sunbeam shining through your bedroom window... spinning... floating. Well, I can't seem to find it. I always have obligations. Summers have become times for getting things done. Building sheds, painting bathrooms, making sure the kids are having a good time. As I am learning, my time is really not my own, not like it is when we were kids. It's ok... kind of. Maybe it comes back at retirement? I don't know. Or maybe I don't want that back. It is primarily selfish after all.
floating
spinning

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Listening to the small things

It has been a while since I have been able to get out by myself. Jenny has been working in the morning, and I have been staying up late for some reason or another. It's funny, if I don't get up before everyone else, I don't generally go out with Chaucer. I guess its something about commitments. Even if Jenny is home, if the kids are up and aware, I feel obligated to be there for them. I have this inner feeling that if I leave the house, things may go awry. I guess that's a lot of psych stuff to be carrying.

I loved the silence this morning. It was 57 degrees out. The horseflies don't fly when its that cold. The mosquitoes are kind of past. I walked and thought. I miss this time. I need to retrain myself to get up early again, especially in the light of school starting in a couple of weeks. I feel that too.

The peeper (frog) had climbed up to head level on this milkweed. Just part of the chorus of sounds that hold me in the morning. The caterpillar didn't really contribute, but it was so.... raggey? It looks like someone knit it out of wool or something. The caterpillars are out now. I love em, bright and crazy looking, eating everything in sight.

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