Writing my Life

Last week I signed up for a writing workshop at Gemini Ink in downtown San Antonio ( Gemini Ink. ) I'm excited. I've never done a writing workshop unless you count Advanced Writing class at Milligan. The workshop is called We Must Write the Words or the Words Will Write Us. My school is paying for it, since I get 6 professional development credits for it.

I had to submit a writing sample of three pages. Either poetry or prose. Ever since attending an Episcopal church, I've had problems with Either/Or assignments. I'm all about the Both/And. I'm Charismatic and Liturgical. I'm Emotional and Educated. I just got done doing a Bible Study on Brian McLaren's book A Generous Orthodoxy. It's all about the paradoxes of faith. Thus, I wrote a memory. In prose but heavily accentuated with poetic images and structure.

I sat down over a week ago and tried to start one of my ideas for a brilliant short story. Something inspired by a newspaper clipping or a conversation I overheard. But in my voice, I heard Natalie Goldberg or Anne Lamotte or some other writer I admire whispering in my ear, "Write what you know."

What do I know? I know I'm a feminist, and I'm married. I'm independent, but I'm committed. A both/and again. So I wrote about my dorm room in Hart, about Opie, my roommate, and her guitar Austin. About my friend who's in Montana while I'm in Texas.

And I felt like I was writing about something I knew. I knew the images, the emotions. I felt it deeply, missed it, but wouldn't go back.

It's a beautiful thing, writing my life.

The workshop people will probably tear it apart. But that's okay.

It's a start.

If only...

This week has gone fast.

I have spent nearly every waking minute that I wasn't doing school stuff trying to find a home for a little 10-lb. chihuahua mix that I found running around my school building on Mon. morning. Evan and I even took it home for 2 days. It crapped on the back seat of Evan's car and marked the apartment several times. Poor adult, unneutered, not housebroken, sweet dog.

Evan and I thought the dogs of East Tennessee had it bad. Not so. There, I saw a stray dog around my old school and called the humane society. They came to pick it up. Here you have to bring it in yourself, and you have to have an appointment. You have to call at 8:30 in the morning and try to get an appointment that day. Their line is busy most of the time, and there are never appointments after 4 pm. You can expect a line of other dogs in front of you--other people trying to make appointments for the animals--15 dogs (humane society) or 30 dogs long (no-kill shelter). All of the shelters are full. The no-kill shelter said they could get this dog a spot in 2-3 WEEKS.

Stray dogs are a huge problem, apparently, in places in the city where I don't go. Unneutered, unspayed dogs who keep breeding. The pound euthanizes 500 dogs a day, and still the shelters are full.

I made it my mission to find this dog a home. I talked to parents, kids. I tried to talk Evan into letting us keep it in our one-bedroom apartment along with Annie. I called chihuahua rescues and every shelter in town numerous times. Another teacher kept it two nights while we worked on this.

I failed. A friend's husband took the dog to animal control this morning. He has about 3 days to find a home. The people there think he'll be easy to place. That people will see his sweet face and gentle manner and want him. He's a statistic, just one more dog in the city. He's better off the street, I tell myself. He's not impregnating other dogs. His worms and infected dew claws might be dealt with. If he finds a home.

Please, God, watch over the little dog tonight.

Stretching my Smile

This week I went to an orthodontist. My mother-in-law finally got her teeth straightened at age 50-something. Now, she had to have teeth pulled and a great deal done. Her blue collar family couldn't afford to do anything about her teeth when she was young. When she finally got braces a few years ago, she was in danger of losing many of the teeth she had.

So, she is now on a campaign for everyone (at least in our family) to enjoy the benefits of straightened teeth. This is where I come in. I never got braces. My childhood dentist said I was an either/or case. I could get braces. Or not. It wasn't completely necessary, but if I wanted really straight teeth, I should have it done. My family didn't spend $4000 on an optional process. I figured I could live with the imperfection more than my parents' stress about money (which I already lived with most of the time). As I grew older, I had those wishes for a perfect smile. But I wasn't going to actually pay for it.

Evan's mom has decided that I deserve the same treatment she and her sons got. She wants to help pay for it since my insurance doesn't cover orthodontics for patients over 12 years. So I went to a free consultation with her orthodontist this week. I didn't know what to think when the orthodontist said my bottom teeth formed a "very interesting pattern." He asked me if I was a thumb sucker. Um, no. I'm not sure why my teeth are so pushed out on the bottom.

Apparently, my upper jaw is super narrow, so my lower jaw tries to compensate. This doesn't work so well. I don't have any pain, but I grind my teeth at night and my jaw clicks. The verdict? To gain a PERFECT smile, I need surgery on my upper jaw to widen it. Yeah, right. I'd love to pay the thousands it costs and be in miserable pain.

The other option is just to get braces or something similar and work with the teeth in house. It would still fix a lot of problems. I learned that I am an excellent candidate for that Invisilign thing (clear plastic mouthguards moulded to my teeth). That way I wouldn't have to get braces. I could just wear these 23 hours a day and take them out to eat and brush. I would get a new set of these every two weeks of the 2 1/2 years of teeth correction I would undergo.

I don't know what to think. They cost a lot. I feel guilty (as usual) when Evan's parents want to do something for me. I feel 14 again. Self-conscious about my smile. At least I don't have the perm anymore.

Thoughts on Summer...

Summer is becoming more and more a reality in my life.

It's filling up fast, too.

My college roommate, Jen S., is coming for a week in June.

My parents are coming for a week in July.

My sister-iin-law and I are somehow getting together and creating our wedding albums.

We are going on our annual Longfield beach trip (3 months to convince Evan that we really do need to ride horses along the beach...just because).

Evan and I are heading to wedding after wedding, cameras in hand.




I keep forgetting it's April and nearly 100 degrees.

It's nice to have something to look forward to...after grading papers and calling parents and planning lessons and getting very little sleep in general.

Yay summer!

Palm Sunday

Palm fronds Sunday

Then crucify him next week

Full of pride Monday

I've given up sweets

Sacrificing my sugar high

To commune with God

Don't pray, don't even try

It's just myself I care to laud

Palm fronds Sunday

Dipped in the blood of next week

I'll begin driving nails Monday

Telling lies while I watch what I eat

Thinking about my sugar high

Resenting the God

Don't think to love him, don't even try

It's just myself I care to laud

Putting my palm frond down

Staring at the blood on my own hands

Just a few drops, not enough to drown

Surely God could understand

Palm fronds Sunday

Then crucify him next week

Look at myself on Monday

I can't look at the one I beat

It's his gaze I cannot meet
It's his gaze I cannot meet