Self Portrait Tuesday – Page 11

May 24, 2006

SPC: Introduction #2: How I Operate

While it’s true that I prefer to stand in the wings and allow my children the limelight, there are a couple of hours each day that I reserve solely for myself. I’m completely selfish with this time. It’s my workout time, maintenance time, and I tend to either drop them off at a sitter or ignore them (…as I trot around the hood with them in the jogger–relax!) . Lately, I drop them off with the fitness club child care; I can no longer ignore them and jog around the neighborhood while they drift asleep. They’re too excited about the universe at this age, full of questions and their own ideas. Bridling this kind of vitality kind of quenches my own, and I hate myself for dragging them into my sphere (but occasionally I still try).

When one of the kids is sick, as they were a few weeks ago, the machinery jams and I have to get creative. Fortunately, I have friends (hi Polly!) who can watch the kids when I need to go to the gym. Sometimes, I may do pilates at midnight on the living room floor. When all else fails, I have to do yoga when the kids are home. And it usually ends with injury, no matter how hopefully it commences. Less than a minute after this photo was taken, I was in cobra pose when Chas climbed onto my back, sunk his fingers into my nose, pulled my head back and really pissed me off. I clutched my nose, seeing stars, and had to run into the kitchen so the blood percolating from my nose wouldn’t drip onto the Bella rug.

SPC

May 16, 2006

SPC: Introduction

I’m happiest when my children occupy the stage. Right now I’m enjoying myself in the wings, and this photograph captures my sentiments perfectly.

Self Portrait Challenge

March 23, 2006

SPT: time :week 3

We left the house on Sunday at noon.

The fog loafed through the canyon without much hurry,

and in our own haste I thought breathlessly about 101,

driving into town just before the tunnel above sausalito,

before hitting the traffic awaiting the Golden Gate bridge,

around 5 o’clock.

I was sad for a while after that, missing the eucalyptus,

thinking of how ridiculous is was that we had to move away from that place,

where Ford was born and where I enjoyed salty air in my lungs

simply because housing was too expensive.

The thought was fleeting, though, because the quality of life is good here.

And I like the smell of juniper about equally.

Around midafternoon we ran into thicker rain, to explain the mounting traffic.

When we arrived in DFW, cars were swimming in feeder lanes,

and flashing lights from towtrucks, fire trucks and squad cars reflected in the flood.

The following day, we spent much of out time in the car.

Why? Because I forgot how big DFW really is. In fact, we lived out of the car,

collecting disposable stuff and growing stinky.

Chas would go to bed later that night exuding that patented

deep-fried Twinky chimichanga funk, still in his day shirt, but too tired from

a fatty dinner to take a simple bath. Which is okay, because we were tired, too.

Damon had two exhausting days of training. A difficult thing for an introvert.

On the way home, I picked up my needles

and a skein of Peruvian kettle-dyed wool.

I smiled as we passed Willie’s Bio Diesel truck stop, in the middle of nowhere,

happily having left that muddled maze of people-clutter behind us.

While the kids were awake the ENTIRE trip back to Austin,

Chas occasionally would point to my needles and frown, reminding me to be careful,

by saying, “ow. ow. ow.”

SPT