Tag Archives: travel

The one where I get heady


“The Cosmos is all that is or ever was or ever will be”.
        -Carl Sagan. 

I have, at times, heard a theory knocked around, in interviews with musicians,  mathematicians, or by the great minds that used to hang in my my living room at Shannon St, that all the knowledge and experience that ever was, or ever ever will be, is accessible and waiting to be accessed by us, or the universe – or something. (Wait, don’t go yet, hold on).  I’ve read it and seen it batted around in books like The Celestine Prophecy, or the Way of the Peaceful Warrior, or The Alchemist – or even in Slaughterhouse Five. Read the rest of this entry

summer by the numbers


36 ideas and 42 items on my to-do list.
3 weeks worth of classes, and 6 days of training.
87 schemes, even though my friend warns that we “flirt with future living”.
22 stanzas, that belong to 12 separate poems.
4 unit plans half undone. Read the rest of this entry

I’ve got nothing. . .


Nothing to write about.

No stories to tell,
no words to convey,
no angst to lay out on a page.

I mean,
I want to tell you all about this one time in Ireland,
but it will take too long.
And there was this certain day at work,
but I like my job. Read the rest of this entry

a little bit crazy


Planning for my trip to my cousin Heather’s.  Her in-laws have been throwing a pig roast for years, and I ahven’t been out there since her wedding, so nine years later, it’s time.  And there are horses and chickens, and oh my – I don’t know if Kai will be able to keep up with his cousins. Of course when I say headed to NY, I don’t mean a quick jaunt to Albany – we’re driving to the other side. With the babies and the dog, and we’re crazy. Just a little. It’s about eight hours in the car.   I think we’ve got a decent plan set out for making it out there – we’ll leave at bedtime  and drive four hours, and then get a cheap motel for the night.  That way driving through the night won’t render us luggage for the weekend.  Us, who once could stay up all night to catch music at a festival, but can’t now manage a trip through the night. We’ll wake up with the kids and grad a bite, and make it to Heather’s by noon.  It sounds so perfect now, so perfect that I’m sure one of them will cry for at least six hours straight.

But the thing is, I can’t just camp out for the next three years, not going anywhere with them, and apologizing to friends and family –

“Sorry, it’s a smidge miserable when we get in the car with the kids. If they’re not crying they’re screaming.  And yah, even that hour trip down to CT requires supplies that would be appropriate for a platoon. Well a baby platoon”.  Instead, I’ll just keep trying.  Thinking that every trip will get a little bit easier, every adventure a little less harrowing, so that by the time they’re ten and eight we will be globe-trotting sillies.  Okay, well at least maybe, we’ll make it to the Grand Canyon.