Meredith Kendall's Blog, page 89
August 29, 2012
Reiki?
Oh my. The peaceful, blissful days of summer have passed. I remember those days of yoga, Reiki, garden, sun, and water. I remember fun times with family and friends.
I'm a teacher. It's that time; I'm back at school. I'm overwhelmed with work and To Do lists. Thank goodness I was able to unravel and recharge. I foresee 60 hour work weeks, crises, and interpersonal conflicts: many challenges. Thank goodness I know how to stop. Breathe. Assume an asana. Do self-Reiki. Then get back to work. Thank goodness I love my job. Love my coworkers, bosses, and students. I love to help my students grow into being the awesomest caregiver they can be. I love to talk teaching methods with coworkers, and love to create learning systems.
Right now, I love to sit on my deck. There's a cool dry breeze. The garden is full of color: overall greens with a border of bright yellow. Touches of white and pink. Morning glory vines are twining up an unused lawn chair.
I'm a teacher. It's that time; I'm back at school. I'm overwhelmed with work and To Do lists. Thank goodness I was able to unravel and recharge. I foresee 60 hour work weeks, crises, and interpersonal conflicts: many challenges. Thank goodness I know how to stop. Breathe. Assume an asana. Do self-Reiki. Then get back to work. Thank goodness I love my job. Love my coworkers, bosses, and students. I love to help my students grow into being the awesomest caregiver they can be. I love to talk teaching methods with coworkers, and love to create learning systems.
Right now, I love to sit on my deck. There's a cool dry breeze. The garden is full of color: overall greens with a border of bright yellow. Touches of white and pink. Morning glory vines are twining up an unused lawn chair.
August 26, 2012
over
It's over.
Really over. I'm a teacher. I work 50-60 hours/week during the school year- championing my students, supporting, imparting, and cheering for my students.
I have summers off. Wait, off? Well, except for my 3 part-time summer jobs. Other than that, off. More flexible, anyway. I spent a lot of time at the beach, in the garden, and at yoga class.
It was so hard to get out of the water today. So hard to pack up and leave the sun. The breezes, blue sky, and loons. Novels and magazines. Goodbye sun, goodbye sand, perfect water, freedom, and relaxation.
Everything changes. We must move on. I came home, picked cleaned and cooked green beans. I packed them in five tupperwares, with vinegar and salsa or hummus. Enough for lunch all week.
Goodbye sun. Hello students.
Really over. I'm a teacher. I work 50-60 hours/week during the school year- championing my students, supporting, imparting, and cheering for my students.
I have summers off. Wait, off? Well, except for my 3 part-time summer jobs. Other than that, off. More flexible, anyway. I spent a lot of time at the beach, in the garden, and at yoga class.
It was so hard to get out of the water today. So hard to pack up and leave the sun. The breezes, blue sky, and loons. Novels and magazines. Goodbye sun, goodbye sand, perfect water, freedom, and relaxation.
Everything changes. We must move on. I came home, picked cleaned and cooked green beans. I packed them in five tupperwares, with vinegar and salsa or hummus. Enough for lunch all week.
Goodbye sun. Hello students.
August 25, 2012
ethereal message
I was cooking and cleaning this evening. Hey, don't act so surprised. Anyway, was cooking pasta with kale, doing dishes, turning on fans and computers, writing grocery lists and to do lists, patting Fluffy, and emptying the dehumidifier.
Suddenly I noticed a perfumey smell. "Hello? A spirit? Who are you?" It was a new scent. I wondered who it could be, and what they were trying to tell me. "Yes? What is it?"I stopped and checked in with my guides and angel. I tapped into the cosmos.
Nothing. hmmm. Oh well, stir the kale, pat the dog, give her a cheese biscuit (made in Canada, not China), straighten the rug, swipe a couple of dishes, pick an onionskin off the floor. Wait a minute, that smell.
Oh, it's the new dish soap. Not a message from beyond. Not the first time.
Suddenly I noticed a perfumey smell. "Hello? A spirit? Who are you?" It was a new scent. I wondered who it could be, and what they were trying to tell me. "Yes? What is it?"I stopped and checked in with my guides and angel. I tapped into the cosmos.
Nothing. hmmm. Oh well, stir the kale, pat the dog, give her a cheese biscuit (made in Canada, not China), straighten the rug, swipe a couple of dishes, pick an onionskin off the floor. Wait a minute, that smell.
Oh, it's the new dish soap. Not a message from beyond. Not the first time.
recipe
I think I read this in Oprah magazine. I've been catching up on a year's worth. I sit at the beach and plop a big glossy on my lap, frequently distracted by seagulls and clouds. Occasionally and fortuitously loons.
Step one. Go out to the garden and pick kale. Notice the morning glories twining around the cedar tree. Admire the brown-eyed susans, a procession of bright yellow. Marvel at the neon zinnias. Look at the green beans, *groan* they need to be picked again. Haven't eaten the last batch and gave some to neighbors. Remember to pick kale.
I picked the tops off of four sturdy plants. Three blue and a green. I planted Blue Russian and curly green.
Back inside, get 2 pans going. One for pasta, one for kale. You know how to cook pasta. Do that. The other- splop liberal olive oil into cast iron skillet. Add chopped garlic (3 sections) and walnuts (a handful).
Pour yourself a glass of chardonnay. It's summer, it's hot, and this is going to be arduous.
Wash the kale. Add red pepper flakes to the skillet. You know how I cut kale? With my kitchen scissors: so easy. I cut it in thin strips, right over the sizzling skillet. I add a splash of fresh spring water. Stir.
That cutting was strenuous, you might need another glass of wine. I prefer a fine boxed wine. Boca is good: no BPA in the lining, so they say.
Cook the pasta to al dente. Drain and add to skillet. Might need another splash of water at this point, or what the hey, a splash of chardonnay. Stir. Turn to low and top with freshly grated parmesan cheese. I say freshly grated because I tend to abuse parmesan cheese and if I have to pay $4.00 for a tub of the fresh, I use less. Give me a family-sized can of Kraft's, and well, it's a sad story. Is there a support group out there? My name is Meredith and I abuse parmesan cheese.
Back to the recipe. Yeah, it's good to go. Did you work all day, on a Saturday? School is starting and you realize there's no syllabus for your class? No test bank, no lesson plans, and you haven't read the textbook. So you worked all day? Awww, no beach. Wait, then you came home and mowed the lawn? Didn't eat since breakfast? Oh dear, pour yourself one more glass of wine. Turn on public radio, pat the dog, and chill. Supper can wait. It's there and ready, so easy, so delish.
Step one. Go out to the garden and pick kale. Notice the morning glories twining around the cedar tree. Admire the brown-eyed susans, a procession of bright yellow. Marvel at the neon zinnias. Look at the green beans, *groan* they need to be picked again. Haven't eaten the last batch and gave some to neighbors. Remember to pick kale.
I picked the tops off of four sturdy plants. Three blue and a green. I planted Blue Russian and curly green.
Back inside, get 2 pans going. One for pasta, one for kale. You know how to cook pasta. Do that. The other- splop liberal olive oil into cast iron skillet. Add chopped garlic (3 sections) and walnuts (a handful).
Pour yourself a glass of chardonnay. It's summer, it's hot, and this is going to be arduous.
Wash the kale. Add red pepper flakes to the skillet. You know how I cut kale? With my kitchen scissors: so easy. I cut it in thin strips, right over the sizzling skillet. I add a splash of fresh spring water. Stir.
That cutting was strenuous, you might need another glass of wine. I prefer a fine boxed wine. Boca is good: no BPA in the lining, so they say.
Cook the pasta to al dente. Drain and add to skillet. Might need another splash of water at this point, or what the hey, a splash of chardonnay. Stir. Turn to low and top with freshly grated parmesan cheese. I say freshly grated because I tend to abuse parmesan cheese and if I have to pay $4.00 for a tub of the fresh, I use less. Give me a family-sized can of Kraft's, and well, it's a sad story. Is there a support group out there? My name is Meredith and I abuse parmesan cheese.
Back to the recipe. Yeah, it's good to go. Did you work all day, on a Saturday? School is starting and you realize there's no syllabus for your class? No test bank, no lesson plans, and you haven't read the textbook. So you worked all day? Awww, no beach. Wait, then you came home and mowed the lawn? Didn't eat since breakfast? Oh dear, pour yourself one more glass of wine. Turn on public radio, pat the dog, and chill. Supper can wait. It's there and ready, so easy, so delish.
August 24, 2012
blog, books, bob dylan
Listening to Bob Dylan, writing blog, trying to sell books. See pics on right? Please click to buy books, if you're in the mood. All profits go towards school expenses for earnest, intelligent, and charming sons. 
kale
My neighbor brought me some garden tomatoes. Delish.
I offered him some kale in return.
"Kale?" What's that? He asked.
"Um. It's a leafy green, full of vitamins, very nutritious. Like cabbage," I explained, ineffectually.
"I'll pass. Here, take these tomatoes! I just had a pop!" he said.
"A pop?" I asked, thinking, I don't think he means popsicles.
"A pop! C & C!"
Oh, that's some kind of alcohol, I thought. No wonder he's so friendly and expansive.
The tomatoes were delicious. I had them for supper.
Recipe:
Saute garlic in olive oil. Add a bunch of kale, chopped finely. Add crumbled red hot peppers and a handful of walnuts. Saute.
Cook pasta: whole wheat linguine, perhaps, to al dente. Strain and add to kale mixture. Saute, add parmesan cheese. Yum...
That was supper, except for parm. I'm off the parm. I crave it, think how much better everything would be with parm. *sigh* It was a very good supper. Kale.
I offered him some kale in return.
"Kale?" What's that? He asked.
"Um. It's a leafy green, full of vitamins, very nutritious. Like cabbage," I explained, ineffectually.
"I'll pass. Here, take these tomatoes! I just had a pop!" he said.
"A pop?" I asked, thinking, I don't think he means popsicles.
"A pop! C & C!"
Oh, that's some kind of alcohol, I thought. No wonder he's so friendly and expansive.
The tomatoes were delicious. I had them for supper.
Recipe:
Saute garlic in olive oil. Add a bunch of kale, chopped finely. Add crumbled red hot peppers and a handful of walnuts. Saute.
Cook pasta: whole wheat linguine, perhaps, to al dente. Strain and add to kale mixture. Saute, add parmesan cheese. Yum...
That was supper, except for parm. I'm off the parm. I crave it, think how much better everything would be with parm. *sigh* It was a very good supper. Kale.
loons
Mysterious, mythical, Maine. Large and shy.
Loons are our unofficial state bird (official: chickadee). We count, love, and protect them. The usual reaction when a Mainer hears or sees one: we stop, point, and whisper, "A loon." We drop everything and stare; we acknowledge the beauty and elusiveness of life and nature.
Which is why I was shocked yesterday at my favorite state park, the pond.
An old man roared up on a motorcycle. A young girl clung behind him. She called him "Uncle." He ran to the pond, yelling, and dove in. He didn't shout when he was underwater. Unfortunately, he spent too much time above water. He yelled and sang. The girl followed slowly. She was wearing clothes, but waded into the pond. He talked to her constantly, referencing a range of popular topics. Kind of amusing.
Loons popped up beside them. Three of them, one a youngster. I held my breath- how wonderful, how magical. So close. I could see a white ring around a neck, a glossy black head, the spotted backs. One had a small fish in it's beak, and offered it to the youngster. Lovely.
The old man yelled at them, "Go away!" He reached down, grabbed sand and stones from the lake bed and threw it at them, "Git out of here! GO AWAY."
I was shocked. Not only rude and unevolved, but possibly illegal. I was shocked to my core. I couldn't write about this yesterday, I was so dismayed. I strive to be heartwarming and inspirational, and this was so- so wrong. Today, for some reason, I must share.
Please, honor and protect our loons. Reiki practitioners honor and respect all life. Please don't throw stones. Instead, observe. Celebrate. Respect.
thank you
Loons are our unofficial state bird (official: chickadee). We count, love, and protect them. The usual reaction when a Mainer hears or sees one: we stop, point, and whisper, "A loon." We drop everything and stare; we acknowledge the beauty and elusiveness of life and nature.
Which is why I was shocked yesterday at my favorite state park, the pond.
An old man roared up on a motorcycle. A young girl clung behind him. She called him "Uncle." He ran to the pond, yelling, and dove in. He didn't shout when he was underwater. Unfortunately, he spent too much time above water. He yelled and sang. The girl followed slowly. She was wearing clothes, but waded into the pond. He talked to her constantly, referencing a range of popular topics. Kind of amusing.
Loons popped up beside them. Three of them, one a youngster. I held my breath- how wonderful, how magical. So close. I could see a white ring around a neck, a glossy black head, the spotted backs. One had a small fish in it's beak, and offered it to the youngster. Lovely.
The old man yelled at them, "Go away!" He reached down, grabbed sand and stones from the lake bed and threw it at them, "Git out of here! GO AWAY."
I was shocked. Not only rude and unevolved, but possibly illegal. I was shocked to my core. I couldn't write about this yesterday, I was so dismayed. I strive to be heartwarming and inspirational, and this was so- so wrong. Today, for some reason, I must share.
Please, honor and protect our loons. Reiki practitioners honor and respect all life. Please don't throw stones. Instead, observe. Celebrate. Respect.
thank you
good clean
Got my car back today.
Picked it up at noon: $500 under estimate and a day early. I've never seen the car this clean. No dust on the dashboard. All the windows are sheer: in and out. The floor: no more straw, dog hair, or beach sand. Outside, washed. I think they polished the hub caps. It's like a brand new car.
Runs like Joan Benoit.
Car, really a van. I'm back up high, after the Trans Am. Back in sedate blue after mod a la mode maroon.
Riding high in a clean blue sky.
Picked it up at noon: $500 under estimate and a day early. I've never seen the car this clean. No dust on the dashboard. All the windows are sheer: in and out. The floor: no more straw, dog hair, or beach sand. Outside, washed. I think they polished the hub caps. It's like a brand new car.
Runs like Joan Benoit.
Car, really a van. I'm back up high, after the Trans Am. Back in sedate blue after mod a la mode maroon.
Riding high in a clean blue sky.
August 23, 2012
cable company
And what about that cable company?
I signed up for Internet access two years ago: $20 month. Internet only, no TV, no phone, $20/month. Great. Loved it.
Last year they raised the price by $13/month, up to $33. Got a letter last month saying the price was going up to $44/month. What, up $120/year, every year? No thanks.
I bought a phone with a mobile hot spot. Terminated cable co. account, returned modem: goodbye, cable company. Well, I thought it was goodbye... but they call me on my old phone 15-20 times/ day. The ringer is turned off. I don't answer, I don't respond. I suppose they want me back... *sigh*
So, 15-20 calls /day. Isn't that excessive?
I signed up for Internet access two years ago: $20 month. Internet only, no TV, no phone, $20/month. Great. Loved it.
Last year they raised the price by $13/month, up to $33. Got a letter last month saying the price was going up to $44/month. What, up $120/year, every year? No thanks.
I bought a phone with a mobile hot spot. Terminated cable co. account, returned modem: goodbye, cable company. Well, I thought it was goodbye... but they call me on my old phone 15-20 times/ day. The ringer is turned off. I don't answer, I don't respond. I suppose they want me back... *sigh*
So, 15-20 calls /day. Isn't that excessive?
