Blue Sky Action

I really love my job, and nothing could have proven it faster than taking it away from me. Driving up the lamp-post lined Copley Hill to the hundred year old brick building with a hummingbird mural and entering to walk the creaky wood floors to my classroom, the same one I have stood in surrounded by fabulous individuals for over two decades, was my day to day. I miss unlocking that door, greeting the quiet few who always arrive early. Now I get ready for class at our dining room table in the one large space that is kitchen, dining, and living room combined, with windows facing all four directions. Notebook to scribble thoughts for the day, laptop open to a dozen tabs, hot black tea at my elbow, I’m slowly working out how to engage for 45 minutes via a fuzzy and often interrupted google meet twice weekly with my students. Like everyone I know in the school system, I am nonstop problem-solving, whether with curriculum shifts, individual student conferences, talking to para-educators and special educators or with concerned parents. By 4:00 most days I’m intellectually challenged and emotionally drained. But by 4:00 what I’m mostly aware of is how much I miss my students. Miss that class room life. Not every second of it, but most every second with them and all their hope. All their blue sky action.

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Colliding into Spring

There are starts and stops at every transition. Like when Winter is slowly colliding into a Spring that turns frozen again. We, in the quiet Northeast, are used to such chaos from our skies. One day we run about in tees and another it’s back into the parka. There is a steady plodding onwards, and general acceptance of what must be will be. Perhaps that is why Vermonters are all cool with so many personal differences through the decades. And perhaps this is why so many of us are sitting tight while COVID19 runs its course. We know how to stay active through long months of difficult weather conditions right inside our own space, plus we got an upward vision that allows us to dream of what is almost here.

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Staying Alive, still

When my children were young, out chasing rose petals flitting about our lawn in early July, chasing dandelions even earlier in May, chasing lightening bugs during hot late summer nights, all the while tramping through the smallest of neighborhoods, but one that included a covered bridge and swimming hole beneath it, enough woods to spy a fairy, and a few kids to trade baseball cards with, I wondered, what would become of these little people? Would they love to dance as much as I do? Would they find beats that drove them to the clubs like I did when I heard Black Box or Madonna or other late 80’s dance sounds? Now, as they have grown into young adults, with passions and degrees, with loves and jobs, I am thrilled they have found joy on the dance floor. Little makes me as happy as sharing that space with them…staying alive and living life!IMG_8954 Continue reading

#FashionWeek

Not able to dash to New York, London, Paris or Milan this September for their respective #FashionWeek did not prevent me from seeking a runway extravaganza. In fact, I more-than-happily attended a local favorite, a fundraiser that gets everyone hooting and hollering even more so because all the designers and models are non-professionals: this STRUT is nothing short of fabulous over-the-top excitement. But, first, there was my own outfit to consider, which took special consideration, and several attempts. Well, of course it did!

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just dance

There are days when even this Nine Cent Girl likes to let go of thinking, of words, of worldly concerns. What better time to start than while we are waiting for Spring? Instead of coming home and turning on the news or reaching for the wine, how about a few wonderful minutes when you set your radio dial to music you just have to move to? No matter what, just dance!

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