Life has a way in interfering....

Sometimes I think I am on tract with my journal writing and then...life just happens right in the middle of everything. (If you are only a blog reader go to my website www.louannhoman.com and click on Sunday Passages for the full story. Also check out the new photos on the scrapbook page.

It is a rainy, dark day in Indiana. The rain is to turn to snow towards evening with another blast of cold, arctic air....but the promise of spring is somewhere???

Tonight is dinner at a friend's house..simple, cozy...soup for a cold night...a bottle of wine to share..and stories...always stories.

Winterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

It does not end. The plow chugged up and down my street all night as I slept with the curtains open catching site of the blinking light in my dreams. By morning we had several inches of snow and my good neighbors were here shoveling for me.

By two in the afternoon, it had all turned to sleet...heavy, heavy sleet pelting all around my house and gardens.

Currently, it is raining and quite foggy outside. One of my favorite quotes about winter never ending is found in the book, Winter, by Rick Bass. He writes, "Be loyal to winter, all the way through--all the way, and with sincerity--or you'll find youself high and dry, longing for a spring that's along way off, and winter will have abandoned you, and in her place you'll have cagin fever, the worst."

Friday afternoon Haiku...

What a nice way to end the week with a fourth grade class loving Haiku, clinging to Haiku, not wanting to go home from school (well, almost!) Haiku!! These were all written by the kids!!

wishy-washy pearls
what's in your recollection?
Liquefy or not

savouring winter
non-ending glacial snowflakes
forsaking sunshine

cold silver diamonds
fridget crystals of winter
frosted crescents fall

snowflakes drifting
white pearly crystals falling
dancing all over

February's warmth
always melts your snowman's heart
so what about mine??

steal a broken heart
February warming air
my tragic break-up

ice looking like stars
walking in the cloudy snow
snow melts in my arms

cotton candy snow
sticking on windows like lace
flying in the air

Confession...

I own a Jeep. There, I have said it. Some of you don't know me personally, but now you know the truth. I own a gas, guzzling SUV vehicle. I also protest against drilling oil in Alaska, support the Brady Bill for gun control and will be in the Vagina Monologues.

But, before you close out....just let me explain. I have to own a Jeep, I mean it is part of my storytelling. I have a great license plate that says STORIES...I have bumper stickers that give the world a clue as to who I am.

My Jeep is my house on wheels...my Laura Ingalls Wilder wagon..the first flight of the Wright Brothers...

I write in my car (not a safe practice!!)...read in my car (also not a safe practice!) sometimes enjoy other activitie in my Jeep (I'll not even go there!!)...I cry and eat McDonald' burgers in my Jeep (did I say McDonald's, I meant soy burgers from the health food store, really I did!!

I carry microphones, work out clothes, walking shoes, scraper,tapes for the tape player, 8 pair of ice skates (well, you never will know when you run across a lovely patch of ice, meet 7 folks who also need skates)...a cowboy hat (!)...musical instruments..empty and full water bottles, candy wrappers (they were from a hitch hiker I picked up once, and that is the truth)...and a lovly prism that bobbles from my rear view window.

Today my Jeep will turn 100,000. I have had three Jeeps during the past few years...all run 250,000 mles..I think Jeep should be reading this and letting me do their commercials..I am a walking (I mean driving) testimony to their durability.

Besides, I think I look cool in my Jeep. When I work at schools, the kids are all impressed when they carry my stuff out to my Jeep, "is that yours?" they ask in amazement.

"Yes," I say with pride looking at my beginning-to-be-rusted, bumper stickered, covered with Indiana salt Jeep,
"Yes, that baby is all mine!"

Limericks

The fourth graders I am working with just caught on to Limericks. Here are a few of my favorites: (By the way, if you have one of your own or a favorite, send it my way!!)

There was an old man with a prize
Who loved to eat dirty black fries
He stayed out all night
He got in a fight
And now he has two blackened eyes!

There once was a clumsy your mare
Who loved a young lady named Clare
Asked her on a date
He ran a bit late
Then he bought them a dinner to share.

There once was a lady named Bell
Who was riding her bike and she fell
She scraped up her knee
And got stung by a bee
And then she forgot how to spell.

Thee was an old man not quite dead
Who stood up and cracked open his head
He had a small cat
Who sat on his mat
And often would call him Sir Red.

A flimsy old woman named Pam
Who couldn't eat nothing but spam
It started to snow
How could she know
And finaly ate strawberry jam!

The rehearsal week...

The first week of rehearsals is now over. It was what I thought it would be...meetings lots of new folks, sitting around the "acting circle"..learning which lines and parts we all will be saying...rehearsing...telling stories..and laughing.

It is a wonderful assortment of women...all ages...all styles..all backgrounds.

The days were long though. Last night was the hardest as I drov home late through newly formed frosted, fog. As I left the rehearsal, my cell phone was completely dead (I guess I forgot to charge it this week...) the fog was beginning to swirl around the top of the buildings in Fort Wayne, and I, admittedly, was tired.

As I pulled out of the parking lot at the theatre, I saw a horse drawn carriage up ahead. The streets were quiet except for the sound of the horse. The carriage was the color of pearl velvet...the driver decked out in top hat and ebony black coat...as I passed, I had to turn and look at the couple...they were snuggled up to the cold with a large blanket aound them. They didn't notice me passing or even looking...they were content on each other.

It was a lovely moment. Isn't it nice that romance still lives???

Plumbing update...

Ok, this is not my traditional..snow is falling...prisms are glistening in he golden sunshine...although I am thinking about this great cache of icicles I came across on my walk tonight...


However, this is about plumbing... (if confused,see this week's Sunday Passage)...

So, I come home from my week out to frozen drain pipes in my downstairs bathroom. Well, it is cold in there, I mean, visitors dress quickly after their showers, but I have not had frozen drains yet..until arriving home..

Now, this is distressing, I do not want to pay for a plumber (I much rather buy quilts and tea pots and books) so with a little phone help from a friend (no names are necessary but he lives far away on an island)...he says put hot water in the bathtub. I proceed to do that..however, the toilet is also plugged. I decided that if a little hot water is good...lots of boiling hot water is better..so I kept the tea pot going while I poured the steaming, hot water down the drain. I also propped myself up on a wooden box in the cellar with a hair dryer on the pipes.

I am happy to say that I did, indeed, thaw the pipes, but melted the wax ring on the toilet in the meantime.

So, today the plumber (my cartoonist neighbor, Lee) came and fixed it for me.....

All I can say is that it makes a great story!

Chatting in the late afternoon with lovers of books...

Every afternoon I check in with email and such at the school library...today not much got done..we spend all of our time chatting about authors and books and kitchen stores.

The topics ranged from the Orphan Train to cooking in Tuscany. Words just spilled out of our thoughts as we all tried to go about our work, but then knew it wasn't going to get done.

It is a nice feeling to know that wherever we go or travel, common denominators bring folks together for a moment or two..enough to say..it was a very good day.

The Emerald City

This week finds me working daily in a school in West Lafayette, Indiana sitting among poppies..a yellow brick road..and the great Oz. Oh, well, take out the great Oz...he is in Florida for the winter...

Actually a parent committee decorated a lovely room for me to work in to teach children to love poetry and words. The room is full of winter murals, snowflakes, decorated pine trees, a wall of the Emerald City, yes, the yellow brick road and a field of poppies.

From early in the morning we write cinquins and haikus...talk about lovely words and write in journals. Tomorrow I will share some of their writings...they fill my mailbox with their words each moment of the day.

An Ode to the Bard...

Today is the anniversary birthday of Robert Burns, the Bard of Scotland. He was born in 1759 in the small village of Alloway.

Folks in Scotland will celebrate his life tonight with the cooking of haggis, the drinking of whiskey and a toast to the lassies. They will conclude with a recitation of his poetry, Oh My Luv is Like a Red, Red Rose; Comin Thro' the Rye, and Auld Lang Syne.

As for me, I am working out of town, will have an early dinner at Appleby's and read the night away. Ok, ok, I might hum a tune or two to the server!!

The same story...

I am trying to find something wonderful and creative to write about...but the truth is that deep winter is here in Northern Indiana. Streets are slick, neighbors are shut in, evening walking will be cold tonight with temps at 9 below. (I'll go line dancing instead!!)

My neighbor boy, Ed, just shoveled my walks (at least I think it was Ed, I couldn't tell with all those face masks and hats and such.)

I used to have boy friends shovel at my parents house...the my own children shoveled..now it's the neighbor boy. I hope he does it because he thinks I am fun and have lots of good stories and hot chocolate...I hope he doesn't shovel because I am "old lady Homan"...

I think I better go outside and have a talk with Ed. But then again...forty pounds of clothing, 9 below zero. shoveing for hours...it doesn't really matter what he thinks, does it?

Saturday evening post..

I have moved my writing desk to face my window full of prisms...by day and sunlight I am surrounded by ribbons of rainbows dancing all over my house..and now by evening I sit and watch the pale sunlight go from day to dusk, and I can view my neighborhood.

Winter Saturday nights are quiet...the neighbors to my south (Larry and Sherry) always go out to dinner with their grown children on Saturday night. They leave the porch light on to light their pathway when they reurn. It is never late...9 or 10.

Across the street my neighbor, Lee, has his girls this week, and with all the blinds open I can see them cooking supper and laughing.

On the other side the Lutherans are out for dinner also. Amy (a part time Lutheran minister) once told me that they use "funeral" money for Saturday night dinners. Sorry I can't oblige, Amy!!

My neighbors to the west are in Sante Fee visiting their daughter.

The rest of the neighborhood is quiet..very few cars approach; although the snow has come and gone and come and gone..just a light dusting tonight.

My house is quiet too...I can actually hear the clock tick and the furnace hummm, so I think with a half moon beckoning me...I will don my purple hat, coat and mittens, and hiking boots and celebrate this raw, cold day in January.

Haiku for January...

heavy winter tracts
circle around my garden
frost bites my big toe

inky night of black
halogen snowflakes falling
crystal shooting stars

deep under woolens
canopied dreams of ice cream
maraschino nose