This morning the weather permitted a decent walk that didn’t involve me feeling as though I was going to pass out after ten minutes! A.J. spent the night and he and Sage were up at the crack of dawn wrestling and generally being (almost) teenage boys. So we took Wile. E. and walked to the farmer’s market so that Greg could get some sleep.

The first thing we saw was a red velvet ant, also known as a cow ant or carpet ant. I’ve heard it’s the “hurt’s like hell if it stings you ant.” Actually, it’s a wasp. It crawls in the grass so that you can step on it if you’re barefoot. It is red, though, so if you (and it) are lucky you’ll see it before you place your foot on its stinger.

We walked along the creek underneath the overpass, and saw this graffiti. It is some of the only graffiti I’ve seen around here that is anything besides tagging, which I hate.

I was so thrilled with all of the tiny wildflowers we saw. In Texas, your house is your prison in the summer unless you are waaay tougher than I am. It’s been over a hundred degrees for two months now, and this morning, it was 80 with a breeze from Tropical Storm Lee. It felt indescribably good to be outside.

When we arrived at the farmer’s market, I kicked back on the banks of the creek with Wile E. while the boys explored. I tried not to think about red velvet ants. (The market has a no dog policy — reasonable enough.)

On the walk home, we saw a tree stump in a sidewalk.

We stopped and sat on a bench for a while eating freshly baked banana nut bread from the market. We dropped some crumbs and watched the ants carry them off. We must have watched those ants for 15 minutes. I could write a story about those ants.

I love it when life is in slow-motion.

I’ve been resisting my natural urge to be a hermit lately, which has definitely resulted in a richer life — not only for me, but for Sage as well. Everything doesn’t always come up roses, though. Although the second book club meeting went well — one guy even invited Sage over with a group to jam out of the guitar — the homeschool park group wasn’t so great.

Here’s a comparison. The book club, which is made up of a very diverse group of people, had lots of people show up last night at the coffeehouse where we meet. Everybody was really cool and shoved over to make room for each person, many of whom did not know one another.

Today, when I took Sage to the Christian homeschool group, which is the only such game in town, everyone was sitting around a picnic table. Sage joined the kids and I went to introduce myself to the moms at the table. No one offered to scoot over or anything! My choice was to either leave and go sit on a bench by myself, which is what I did the last time I tried going to this group a year or so ago, or stand there.

I chose to simply stand there. After about ten minutes of this, one (kind) lady sent her kid to the parking lot to bring some canvas chairs. So I sat down and talked for a bit, although the lady who was sitting closest to me literally turned her butt around on the table so that I was looking at her back.

Then my homeschooling neighbor showed up. By that time, there was room at the picnic table, and she sat down. No one welcomed her either. We talked to a woman who recently moved to town who was also being (blatantly) ignored. Meanwhile, there was a little clique clustering together that was headed up by a queen bee type whose husband owns a car dealership here in town. When I asked her last name, she looked down her nose and said, “Norton,” like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. I guess I’m not up with who’s currently famous in our town.

I could go on. The bottom line is that I’m really aggravated. When professing Christians behave this way, I see why so many people have such an antipathy for the religion. As a Christian myself, I don’t enjoy being on the receiving end of that hatred.

People need to keep it real.

Sage and I want to start an inclusive homeschoolers group that doesn’t discriminate on the basis of religion. (You have to be a professing Christian to be part of this homeschooling group, and it’s the only one in our town.) When I told Sage this fact, he exclaimed, “THAT’S WRONG!”

I will need courage, but I think remembering how I and other people not part of the local Christian in-crowd were treated will help me find it.

My Aunt Louise and Uncle Bob came to town a couple of weeks ago. Here’s the family pic that Greg took. Sage is hiding behind his BF Anthony. My aunt and uncle are in the middle. Notice how my brother has to duck before going in doorways! He’s about 6’11″! We’d like to get up to Tennessee to visit with them some more — if finances permit.

As you know, I’ve been having problems getting my butt in gear to write. I was talking about the negative voice in my head that says, “I hate writing!” when Sage said, “Well, tell yourself you love it!” Good advice, which ultimately comes from me anyway, as I’ve been talking to him about how powerful thoughts can be. I don’t always practice what I preach, though.

So I started saying how much I loved writing, and what an awesome writer I am, and the block lifted and I got a couple of articles done. That block was the worst I’ve ever had. What was happening was that every time I’d sit down to write, I’d find a reason to get up and not do it. Then I forced myself to sit down, and what happened next was a gray fog would cloud up my head and I’d feel awful and not get anything done. The positive affirmations really helped to clear that up, as corny as it all sounds.

Greg is having a flare-up of fibro and has missed a lot of work this month. I think that if he didn’t focus so much on negative political stuff, he’d feel better. I mean, listening to Rush and his ilk would make anyone sick. Who knows. I get worried about not being able to afford our lifestyle if he can’t work, but my older son who walked barefoot from Oaxaca to Guatemala (yes, really) has taught me something about that. God provides for him even though he doesn’t own a darn thing besides a backpack and perhaps a change of clothes — and doesn’t want to.

So the bottom line is that I honestly believe that even if we ended up living in a tent or something (unlikely!), that everything would be okay. I have to say I’ve never felt this degree of peace about things in my life until recently.

I’ve been applying the positive stuff to other things in my life as well. I decided to ACT LIKE I didn’t feel anxious and mildly depressed and just do stuff I would do if I didn’t deal with those issues. The last month has been lovely, and I have much less A & D than I used to!

Sage loves the Celtic song Battle of Aughrim and printed out the tabs for it last night. He can already play the intro pretty well! He says that he loves Celtic music even more than stuff by System of a Down, which is really saying something. It’s a beautiful, beautiful song. Give it a listen if you have the time.

Sometimes I feel like a spoiled brat. The work I do yields a better per hourly rate than I can make as a professional teacher where I live. There are people all over the world who would do anything to be able to earn what I earn working from home doing non-physical labor.

So I feel guilty for hating it so much right now. I have serious writer’s block when it comes to work articles, and I’ve found that whenever I am looking at the screen, preparing to write one of the suckers, a feeling of exhaustion just overcomes me.

You know it is bad whenever you’d rather clean the litterbox than do your work.

This is the type of thing I write — easy and boring. Hence the tired feeling, I suspect. Note that the link does not go to one of my own articles, as it would be stupid to complain about the work one is doing for a client and then link to that work.

While I am working on alternatives, nothing has come together just yet — due to my lack of effort and energy. Meanwhile, I can’t say that I would be any more jazzed about returning to a 9 to 5 grind. So I’d better get busy.

Am digging Ric Stultz’s art. Amazing how such colorful work can be so dark.

I’m still working on giving away my 45 things. It has turned into more of a “clean and organize the entire house” sort of deal. I’ve gotten all of the homeschool stuff sorted, at any rate. Now I’m tackling shoes. How many pairs of shoes does a person need, anyway? I think I could be happy with a couple pairs of jeans and some comfortable sandals or boots — so why don’t I just get rid of it all?

I suppose I am afraid I will change my mind after the fact and spend money on clothes that I’d rather spend on something else more important.

I’ve joined a book club. We’re reading Karen Armstrong’s 12 Steps to a Compassionate Life. I have four more days until our second meeting and I haven’t bought the book yet. Tomorrow!

Speaking of books, I’ve just read the most amazing young adult novel — Brutal, by Michael Harmon. I love it because it features me as the protagonist. Actually, she is quite a bit braver than I was in high school, but I thought the same thoughts. Harmon nails the spirit of institutionalization in our public schools.

I am avoiding work and courting poverty. Must find something to do in addition to articles about the nutrients in a sweet potato. The pouches, perhaps. Or the scarves. Something.

Love this photo of Sage in our bedroom, engrossed by the computer.

Greg and I finally got a new bed. It’s a queen-sized mattress, actually. There is no bed frame at this point. I was reluctant to get it because I liked the old bed frame, which was handmade by my grandfather. However, the mattress was an odd size between twin and full. So not a night has went by in years that we haven’t woken each other up with an elbow in the face or from peeling sticky skin apart on a warm night. Now I sleep all night long and wonder why we didn’t do this years later, cool bed frame or not.

Sage and his friends played a trick on me today by rigging a cabinet to have a cicada (dead) with a string attached fly out at me when I opened it to make tea. I screamed. He and his friends gave each other high fives and hooted and hollered. I told them I would take my revenge, and that had them very worried. What I ended up doing was putting red food dye paste inside of the bathtub faucet. I let them know I had done something and they had to search for it, which they did, very nervously. I didn’t have the heart to actually let them encounter “blood” coming out of the faucet without some mental preparation — one of the kids would have wet his pants! We all had a great time.

Today, Sage asked me if I minded if we worked on math and science on Saturdays, too. It turned out that we didn’t have the time, but it’s cool that he’s so into it. He is such a pleasure to be around. My mother keeps warning me that he’ll probably become like me when I was a teen, but I disagree. Kiddo is pretty content and chill, unlike me at any age!

He kicked his granddad’s booty at the Chinese game “Go.” My dad, who is like some sort of chess master, was pretty surprised, because he had been studying the game. So now they’re in this heated competition — love it!

I dream of earth, grass and wood
Of clay walls and a well
Of children playing freely
No screens, only delighted screams
An honest day’s work in the service of life
Skins and strings a backdrop for conversation and
other things
Delight in the new gray of a hair
A crinkle of laughter
Stones
Wool
Wood
Water
Is my shopping list
Simplicity
Not advertised in a greasy-slick sick magazine
For this moment’s celebration
I’m giving away 45 things
At the behest of my dream