Week of Women

          I began the week visiting Deborah, having a delicious, fresh salad on her deck with her longhorns peacefully sitting nearby, the new calf toddling on it’s skinny legs. Our conversation wove from Santa Monica to Texas, new friends and old. I remember sitting next to Deborah in junior high, watching how easily she sketched and now, she is a mature, successful artist, whose work touches all who view it.   I can’t wait to attend her upcoming show.

          Tuesday I went to the writing group which I’ve come to love. Each person has such a distinctive voice and writing style. Nine women, two men.  I read my blog entry about the river and one fellow said, “What’s a Coarsegold pool?”  It was decided that if I’m writing for a broader audience than just friends, I need to explain such things.

          Wednesday I returned to Daniels Elementary and had a much better session with my 14 fourth graders. I sat down and asked them, “When you read a book, what do you like about it?” and so we could talk about what “good” writing is. This helped tremendously when they worked on their alliteration stories. They added more detail, made more things happen.

          Afterwards I went to the library to sort and shelve books and ended up talking to Michelle – mostly listened - about teen angst, love, loss, and growing up. What a fascinating woman she is!

          Thursday morning was really cold – 22 – but had warmed up to 35 by the time I left for Fredericksburg at 8:30 to interview at Ignite Education. It took 31 minutes to travel 25.7 miles.  The woman who is leaving is screening applicants (she had a stack of resumes an inch thick) to replace her, which may be one full time, or two part-time people.  I would like to work part time so I can continue to teach.  We’ll see if I get a call back.

          That afternoon I went to have my roots bleached. I like my new hairdresser but didn’t think to ask her to towel-dry my hair, thus I spent an extra $30 for blow-dry styling that I’ll never be able to do myself. I don’t have the patience, let alone manual dexterity to operate a dryer and brush at the same time. If I wear my glasses, they get in the way. If I take them off I can’t see what I’m doing.  I don’t have a mirror to see the back of my head. When I use the dryer it’s to quickly get as much water out of my hair as I can and I’m left with a big bushy helmet of hair.

          Friday I met Friends of the Library to set up the Christmas Tree and ended up being the one scooting around on my butt, putting on the lights. It took an hour-and-a-half for 5 women to complete the task, as the only male in the group went to the store to buy more lights then said his wife wanted him home by 2:00. (We think he went golfing).

          I ran around to various stores trying to find one more set of white net-lights to cover the big juniper bush in front of our house.  White lights were sold out so I bought colored ones and John put them up. I put up the one set of whites I had, over the awful bars (that we usually keep open) in front of our front door. 

          The worries of the week, which I will not mention here, seemed to dissolve when I took Walter out to pee before bed, and saw our meager little light display. Not because they “rage against the dying of the light” but because they remind me that under life’s pain, and worries, and fears, a small light within each of us silently, eternally glows.