Today is a Blue-fingered Day

Mr. B had a lucky day, according to reports. I arranged for him and some of his homeschool buds to go to a local blueberry farm, where they loaded up the yummy little gems. I think it's safe to say Mr. B put more berries in his mouth than in his bucket, but he had a blast.

It was blazing hot, of course, a balmy 90 degrees. When I finally sat down in the shade after an hour or so, I was startled that it took so long (about as long as it took for me to get overheated) for me to consider the contrast between my choice of recreation (blueberry picking) and the misery of farmworker labor (blueberry picking). A woman with four children in tow, one just an infant, was picking berries for the company, albeit in a different area, and I never saw her sit down for a break, especially not after such a short time. Just a thought.


The berries are amazing, though, and it was satisfying to pick them myself. It doesn't look like much, but there's more than four pounds in there. I may attempt to bake some sort of pie with them on Friday. There could be pictures!

Sometimes Rejection is Nice

Or at least when it's nicely worded. I sent off yet another story (actually the same one that keeps getting rejected all over town) to The Future Fire a short while back, and a few days ago, I got a very polite and encouraging response:

"This was a fascinating and well-written piece, with a dual plot arc of
Alice's failing relationship and imploding scientific experiment
working well to offset each other. Apart from being a parable on
scientific catastrophe-making, however, there isn't much
social/political content to the plot of this story, and in the end we
felt it didn't quite fit what we are looking for in TFF at the moment.

We'd like to thank you again for thinking of us with this story, and
wish you the very best with your writing in the future."

How refreshing to receive feedback beyond the typical form letter! It was also a gentle let-down as to the fit of the piece. I've gotten a few rejections in the past that seemed a little snarky, especially coming from amateur 'zines.

In a way, I was also pleased that the placement of my lesbian protagonist doesn't warrant classification as "social/political content." A mute point someday, I hope? I'm a little ticked with myself that I missed out on the submission window for the theme of their previous issue, Queer Sci-fi, where it may have faired better. Just my luck, I guess.

BTW, the letter also stated that The Future Fire is on hiatus until 2011.

Disaster and Heartache

I've haven't been able to form a response yet to the disaster in the Gulf. It's easier to ignore disaster when it is taking place in some distant place. This is not so far, really, and it's coming closer every moment.

Today, the outer edges of the spill hit the Louisiana coast, in some of the most pristine wildlife areas in the country, as this aerial photo from the AP shows.


My family plans to go to Anna Maria Island in a few weeks, and I'll pray there at the edge of the Gulf. I wasn't sure what I would say until I read this over at T. Thorn Coyle's blog.

As a pagan (not to mention a human with a pulse) who reveres the earth and the ocean, I feel horrified, numb and angry. However, I've been taught to channel feelings like these into positive ends, whenever possible.

To keep from crying about it, I'm trying to DO something, which a feeble thing in the face of the trauma the earth is facing. There's this effort you may have read about, where people are making these crazy-looking things called "hair booms" to soak up the oil. I'm just calling different salons and asking them to participate in the hair collection. One place so far said "yes," the Fantastic Sam's in my town. They have a designated collection bin for hair, so I took my Mr. B there to get his hair trimmed, and made sure he knows that his hair will go to help clean up the spill.

The crummy thing is, while salons all over the country are collecting the hair, BP hasn't agreed to use them in the cleanup). These booms have been shown to work; why wouldn't BP let the people help clean up this horrifying disaster?

Today, I channeled my inner crazy-lady and contacted the Louisiana Office of Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness, where a woman named Jody was very nice but couldn't tell me why the governor's office isn't pressuring BP to approve the use of the booms, in spite of the fact that there aren't enough of the ineffective plastic ones. It seems strange and outrageous to me that BP has so much control over the cleanup. I called the local paper in Houma, Louisiana, which has recently covered the story about hair collection, and asked a reporter there to pursue it further. We had a effusive conversation, and she agreed to follow up and press the issue (there's a BP response center in Houma).

Then I read that BP may be reconsidering, probably in a PR move.

Makes me want to holler, but maybe some good is coming.

EDIT: Later, when I tried to call the Coast Guard Gulf command office to confirm that BP is waiting for their approval (and to advocate for said approval), they just passed me off to BP Operational Command in Houston (read: nice PR ladies). They had no clue what I was talking about, even though it's been in the news already that they're considering the possibility.
image from www.matteroftrust.org, the organization behind the effort

Adventures in Parenting

Sometimes a little shutter clicks in my mind, saving a memory under the filename "What Homeschooling Looks Like." It would make a great photo essay, if I'd really been taking photos during these moments when I was busy just living: Mr. B watching PBS in his underwear, Mr. B snoring on the floor of a dewy tent in a campground, Mr. B crouched in the hallway completing a math assignment (his favorite spot for doing homework), or Mr. B squatting on the sidewalk examining a dead lizard through a jeweler's loupe.

Mostly, I trick him into learning stuff while trying hard to listen to a bunch of jabber about his current fixation without going crazy. Lately, it's Ghostbusters, which is hilarious on some level. He's constantly talking about ghosts and making up wacky scenarios about hauntings, drawing pictures, playing the videogame, and watching the movie (although that's tapered off now, thank goodness). He even solicited a special project from my mom, the woman who can make damn near anything out of cardboard, and she constructed a proton pack that fastens to his back with straps she made out of USB lanyards. He wears it everywhere. Can you spot the intrepid heroes on the left, saving NYC?

However, sometimes I do take photos, usually after the fact, to remind myself that the frustration and sacrifice are (mostly) worth the payoff. Today, we made a bird feeding platform from a shelf that I picked up on the side of the road and an old terra cotta flowerpot dish. We installed it outside his window so he can watch birds (one of his Aspie obsessions --could be worse). He can see it from his bunk bed.


A couple of weeks ago, at Florida Pagan Gathering (happy Beltane, BTW), I took a deep breath and let Mr. B off the chain. He romped with his camp buddies and frequently disappeared from my sight, once for over an hour. I even let him participate in the so-called Celtic Games, where men and boys whack each other with boffers shaped like swords and toss big rocks. He took a beating and cheered and hollered himself hoarse, and it was probably the most fun he ever had.

Some days, it's lots of fun being me.

Happy Mother's Day!

Although I kinda bought this for myself yesterday, my new drum contributed to my happy mom's day. Broke it in at our monthly drum circle, too. Hope yours was a good one!

Goodbye to You(s)

As they say in Jersey, see you(s) around. The term is over! I always feel a flood of relief when classes conclude. I no longer have all these groups of people depending on me to be energetic and helpful. Of course, I still have permanent people fixtures, known and loved, who require those qualities of me, but at least I don't have to pour it out to strangers, for now.

This has been one of my best terms, honestly. I stayed on top of the workload, most of my students were engaged and hard-working (there are always a few who aggravate, wheedle and cheat), and I enjoyed my time with them. However, it's incredibly draining for me, and a distraction from what I want to be doing. I'm glad to be done.

The truly excellent part of the fun is I have no plans to teach for the rest of the year. Summer is Clarion West, and fall is the time when I use all that knowledge I've hopefully gathered to make some magic happen. I also have a homeschooling responsibility that needs ramping up. Mr. B finally starting reading and writing independently this year, and he's primed for big advances now that those building blocks are in place. Double excitement.