A Hidden Well

Here Piggy, Piggy, Piggy . . .

Hartford Children's Theatre and Classical Magnet School

present

Lord of the Flies

by Nigel Williams

based on the novel by William Golding

directed by Hannah Simms

Friday April 4 at 7:00, Saturday April 5 at 2:00

(with an invited dress Thurs April 3 at 7:00)

Classical Magnet School Black Box 

85 Woodland Street, Hartford, CT, 06105

Tickets may be reserved at www.classicalmagnet.org

(Jack is playing the role of the evil Roger.  I'll be there both

Friday and Saturday.  Hope you can make it!)

EASTER

Today's Quote: "Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again." --Sarah Ban Breathnach

As Casey would say, "The Bunny Easter came to our house!"  And the Bunny Easter brought far too much candy.  Plus, the Bunny Easter left more candy at both grandparents' houses.  Have I mentioned how much I love Reese's Peanut butter eggs?  I am trying desperately to ignore those eggs as they call to me from their baskets.

Today

I ate too many Girl Scout cookies.

I hurt my neck.  (I don't know how.) 

I went to the library and checked out four books and three audio books.  And I was shocked to learn that I had no overdue fines.  (I had my wallet out and was prepared to hand over a ten dollar bill.)

My ipod "froze" at the gym and I had to work out with no entertainment.  I tried to look over the shoulder of the woman on the treadmill next to me so that I could read her magazine, but eventually she glared at me, so I gave up.  I suppose it isn't polite to hover.  But I was sooo bored.  One of these days I will figure out how to fix my ipod when it decides to freeze.  (Jack has tried to teach me many times, but I just can't seem to figure it out.)

I practiced cello tonight and didn't find it too depressing.  I'm improving.  I think.

And now I'm going to bed at a very respectable 11:00 PM.

Bonsoir, mes amis.

a million little drawers

Today's Quote: "Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony."
— Mahatma Gandhi

Sometimes Chloe is incredibly profound.  It's easy to forget that about her because so soften she just seems to dance along the surface of life like a shining, bouncing ball of light, oblivious to the darkness so many of us fear.  Plus, she still pronounces the word animal "aminal", and says things like "I getted to pick a prize from the box!"  So I always find myself caught off guard when something beautifully insightful and profound comes out of her mouth.  After school today she was crying about a friend who has a habit of saying mean, hurtful things one minute, but the next minute seems to forget all about it and just act as though everything is fine.  Chloe couldn't understand how the friend can be so mean and then just forget all about it, while she can't seem to get the unkindness out of her head.  I tried to explain that some people are simply more sensitive than others.  The friend whose remarks are hurting Chloe's feelings probably doesn't even really mean what she's saying . . . that's why she can say something unkind, forget about it, and just move on.  Whereas Chloe takes things to heart and finds it far more difficult to brush it off.  (I think I explained this in greater depth and more articulately to Chloe, but I'm attempting to provide you with a nutshell version here.)  In response to this Chloe said, "I guess I am sensitive.  Other people can let things go, but it's hard for me to let things go because my head is filled with a million little drawers, and I store everything in them."  Chloe is definitely a keeper.

Today was productive.  I made some phone calls I'd been putting off, responded to some emails, canceled some appointments and scheduled others, filled out camp registration paper work (a lengthy process when one has three children), updated the giant calendar that hangs on the side of the fridge (without which our lives would be total chaos), worked out at the gym, and met my mom in Pomfret so that she could take Casey to visit at her house for a few days.  My mom made no mention of my nose piercing.  I don't know if this is because she failed to notice, or simply opted not to comment.  I was kind of afraid to ask.  So I didn't.  Oh, and in the afternoon I took Chloe to karate, picked up a prescription, did the grocery shopping, made a meatloaf, and practiced my cello.  See?  I told you it was a productive day.

Tomorrow I am chaperoning Jack's field trip.  I'm inexplicably nervous about that.  I've no idea why.  I have a cello lesson in the evening, and quite honestly I'm filled with fear and dread.  Have I mentioned that playing the cello is hard?  I have?  Well then, I guess I'm going to be repeating myself a great deal.  IT IS SOOOOO HARD.  Maybe tomorrow night will be better.  Maybe I'll actually get to learn some notes.  Who knew learning to hold the instrument would be so ridiculously challenging?

i can't imagine why anyone comes back for more

Today's Quote: "The smell of ink is intoxicating to me - others may have wine, but I have poetry."  ~Abbe Yeux-verdi

It's true.  If I never had another glass of wine for the rest of my life, I wouldn't care a bit.  But a life without poetry would not be worth living.

So, today I learned that Casey is #7 on the waiting list for the Montessori School.  The woman on the phone who passed along this information said, "Oh, she's number seven!  That's really pretty good!"  (And yes she did refer to Casey as a "she", because apparently the entire world is under the impression that the name Casey is exclusively for girls.)  The thing is, honestly, being #7 on the waiting list is really not such a good thing in my opinion.  Getting in is a good thing.  And being # 1 or #2 on the waiting list is quite promising, because in almost any given situation at least one or two people typically drop out.  And being #45 on the waiting list stinks, but at least it allows for some closure.  If your child is #45 on the waiting list then there's no way in hell he's ever geting in, so you can just forget about the Montessori School, put the whole thing behind you, and move on.  But #7?  Being #7 just leaves one in a perpetual state of limbo.  It's not out of the realm of possibility that the seventh person on the wait list might eventually be offered a spot.  But it's equally likely that the seventh person on the list won't be offered a spot.  You just can't know for sure one way or the other.  And if you know me at all then you know that not knowing something makes me crazy. 

In other news . . .

• Casey has a cold.  AGAIN.
• Chloe is incredibly irritable today.  And she's obsessed with ace bandages.  The kid wore one of those elasticized braces on her wrist nearly everyday last fall.  Eventually it got really gross looking and one night while she was sleeping it somehow managed to get lost, and after a few weeks of whining for me to buy a new one, she eventually forgot about it.  (I should mention that I brought her to the doctor and there was absolutely nothing wrong with her wrist.  Two of her classmates, however, had broken arms at the time, and I think she had some serious cast envy going on.)  About a week ago she stubbed her pinky toe and insisted that it must be broken.  I told her that even if it is broken, there's not much to be done about it, since doctors don't cast toes.  At first she didn't believe me, but she asked around and when everyone told her the same thing I had, she then decided that her whole foot hurts.  Last night at 9 PM I found her out of bed and standing on tip toe, searching the top shelf of the linen closet for an ace bandage.  (I don't know why we keep such things there, or how she knew.)  I sent her back to bed and allowed her to keep the ace bandage on the shelf by her bed so that she could see it everytime she opened her eyes all night long.  Then this morning when I got out of the shower I found her already up and out of bed, proudly limping around on a foot she had crudely ace bandaged herself.  "Do people ever wear these to school?" she wanted to know.  I gave her a look that said, "Don't even think about it," to which she quickly and defensively responded, "I don't want to wear it to school!  I was just asking is all!" Maybe she's going to be a doctor when she grows up.  Or a hypochondriac.
• Jack's class is going to see The Bluest Eye at the Hartford Stage next week, and I get to be a chaperone.  I'm really excited.  I read The Bluest Eye years ago and loved it.  The next day I'm going to let Jack miss a few hours of school so that we can attend Lamentation and Protest, a demonstration in downtown Hartford to mark the 5th anniversarry of the war in Iraq.  I am able to attend both the play and the demonstration thanks to my the willingness of my parents to take care of Casey for a few days. (Thanks Mom & Dad!)
• Last night I dreamed that our back yard was filled with grizzly bears.  I was watching from the kitchen window.  Then suddenly a single wolf entered the yard and approached the bears.  I was so scared that an attack would ensue and it would be a bloody, violent mess.  But instead the wolf calmly approached a bear and the two of them gently rubbed their noses together.  And then I woke up.
• I have this weird, marble sized lump beneath my left ear.  I don't mean behind my ear, where there are glands, but right below my ear lobe on my neck.  I have no idea what it is.  It's not painful, although it is tender when touched.  I'm not worried about it at this point.  I assume it's just some kind of weird, random sebaceous cyst.  Call me vain, but I'm more concerned with how it looks.  It's really rather ugly.  Fortunately my hair covers it.  I'm sure you are all so delighted that I shared this with you.

the impersonation gene

I couldn't fake an accent if my life depended on it.  The only accent I'm capable of is the one left over from growing up in RI, and I can't even call upon that at will.  It just kind of slips out every now and then when I'm particularly excited or angry.  Now my brother, he can impersonate just about anything or anyone.  Jack's pretty good at it, too.  He definitely inherited that gene from his uncle. 

This is pretty cool.

what?

Today's Quote: "Everything terrible is something that needs our love."  — Rainer Maria Rilke

It's after 1:00 AM and I hardly ever stay up this late anymore.  I've been really good about getting a decent night's sleep.  And in fact I did go to bed well over an hour ago.  But I couldn't fall asleep.  So I'm up.  My mind just wouldn't shut down tonight.  Every time I closed my eyes they just popped open again, and I'd find myself staring at the ceiling.  I figured I'd rather stare at the computer monitor.  It's not that I'm stressed about anything.  I'm really not.  My life is busy, but no busier than usual.  And I take comfort in the fact that Glenn and I have decided to significantly cut back on our committments and responsibilities next year.  We've been referring to the plan as "taking a year off".  Of course, we're not really taking the year off.  We're not backpacking through Europe or anything.  But we will be letting go of many of the volunteer roles and responsibilities we've taken on over the years.  And we'll be making a conscious effort not to say yes to requests that require significant chunks of our time without first giving the matter careful consideration.  Glenn was recently asked to chair the finance committee at our church.  He thought it over, we discussed it, and ultimately he declined.  It simply involved one too many meetings each month.  So that's the direction we are moving in.  Less is more, and all that good stuff.  Anyway, I'm not quite sure how I managed to go off on that tangent.  As I was saying, I don't think my insomnia is based on the hectic pace of our lives.  Actually, I suspect I know what's on my mind, but I'm not sure I can articulate it.  It's about feeling disconnected.  There are times in my life when I feel this way, and other times when I feel very much connected, when my relationships feel strong and solid and fulfilling.  Right now I feel like I'm floundering in my relationships.  I have no shortage of friends.  I am blessed with many loving, funny, kind, supportive friends.  There's no good reason for me to feel this disconnect . . . and yet I do.  Sometimes I really wish I could figure out, once and for all, what makes me tick.  Tonight I was at Book Group, and I was feeling really annoyed with just about everyone there. Neraly everything that was said bugged me.  I even felt annoyed with one of the facilitators, whom I actually like a whole lot.  She made a comment about how well the group had gelled, and it took all I had not to say, "Huh?  You think we've gelled?  Maybe the rest of you have gelled, but not me.  I don't feel gelled.  I feel annoyed and irritable and testy!"  But then, as the meeting drew to a close and there was some talk of not meeting again until May, I was absolutely adamant that we meet in April.  I was distraught at the thought of having to skip a month.  SO CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME JUST WHAT THE HELL IS MY PROBLEM???  How is it that I can't stand this group of people one minute, and the next minute feel desperate to see them again next month?  If someone would care to take a stab at diagnosing me, please do share your conclusions.  Maybe I'm just a miserable person.  Maybe I'm just nuts.  Maybe I'm just really, really sleep deprived. I'll probably delete this whole entry in the morning.

Sudoral

Today's Quote: "Reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it." — Jane Wagner

In case you were wondering, the cello is ridiculously hard to play.  Either that or I'm an idiot.  Seriously, I'm amazed anyone ever manages to learn to play it well.  I think I'm in way over my head . . . and I haven't even begun to use the bow yet.  I've spent the better part of two lessons just learning how to hold the instrument.  Don't laugh.  It's no easy feat.  Maybe I should have chosen something simpler.  Like the harmonica.  Of course, I'm not giving up yet.  What kind of message would that send to my kids?  (The best way to deal with a challenge is to run like hell!)  And although running like hell sort of appeals to me at the moment, I'm hanging in there.  (Sometimes being a good role model sucks.)  Plus, I've only had three lessons.  It's a bit soon to be throwing in the towel.

Oh, and regarding exercise?  I still loathe it.  Maybe I loathe it just a tad less than I did a few weeks ago.  So that's progress, I suppose.  The best part of working out is the shower I get to take when I'm done.  It's not that there's anything particularly great about the showers in the locker room at the community center.  It's just that I absolutely hate being sweaty.  I've always hated it.  It just skeeves me out.  (Hmm . . . maybe that's why I've never been very active.  I'm not lazy, I just can't stand sweat!)   

too much time on my hands

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