SquirrleyMojo:

Bet You Thought I'd Never Write Here

Sunday, July 31, 2005

Just to Freak You Out

Happy August 1st.
I needed a new look &
have never really gone through a dark, goth period . . .

I'm such a late bloomer.

I can't promise to maintain this change past 24 hours.

Tickle my fiendish boredom and let me know
if you jumped or gasped when the blackness filled your screen . . .



BTW:
I'm still really perplexed and pissed by my inscrupulous guest Sats.
But, honestly, watching her meaniness
makes my life look like a field of scratchy daisies
and wild flowers I, uh, really couldn't name.

Grrrrrr--Grouch, Grouch

You don't want to hear what I have to say this morning.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

My partner has been absolutely endearing
the past few days:
each morning I wake up to a picture
of some cuddly furball saved as background to my PC.

This morning?
It's a white cat with one blue & one green eye.

I'm not normally the snuggly, "awwww" type--
especially over cats (which I normally find over-rated)--
so how did my partner know that these pics are just what I need?



Meanwhile, the Farmer's Market is this morning!
Woo-woo! Fresh, home-baked pretzels. mmmmmmmm
Vine riped tomatos, fresh corn, green tomatos to fry.
Broccoli that must be soaked in salt water.
Leaks. Turnips. Radishes. mmmmmmmmm


I feel so much better this morning--d*mn the Luxapro!
My doctor was out of the office on Friday & will call back
on Monday. I'm thinking Paxil.
But do you ever:

not feel connected to the time and place of the moment?
have trouble remembering the most mundane?
clutz about?
stutter or slurr your speech in social settings?
simply have trouble focusing?

I'm frustrated with my inability to think and articulate.
I watched some b-movie with Robin Williams . . . _Final Cut_.
The film explored the role of memory in identity.
I'd like to write a paper about such films . . .



If I had that 13-year-old-daughter,
I imagine I'd wake up on a Saturday morning
like today and find
her and a friend still awake--
never having even gone to bed/asleep
even for a second.


How should I spend this day that God has given me?
How long will these good feelings last?

Friday, July 29, 2005

Ehem, Play With Me

So I just read about a court case in Utah
debating the decency of a licence plate
that reads:

GAYSROK


Now, what does this read 4 U?


Arguably, the licence plate can read:

Gays Rock

or

Gays are OK


Yet, tell me, why do I see: Gay Stroke???


On an unrelated note, I'm nervous about calling my doctor
to tell her the Lexapro isn't working and is, in fact,
making me feel worse. Times two.

The ironies of my life kill me.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

"Screaming from Hunger"

Niger has nothing to do with me and everything to do with me.

The situation has nothing to do with you,
with your western heritage--
and everything to do with you.


I'm angry. And sickened.
I'm helpless from thinking, thinking, thinking.
Reading.
And never taking action.

There's a soft spot in the center of my mind,
like in the middle of a stale piece of bread,
that is simply too alive, for I can picture
every child and mother in that tent with their wrist bands,
waiting to die.

I have no clue what the first step might be--
and I mean an honest step, not a gesture,
and I don't know why I might not take it,
even if it was suddenly revealed . . . . . .

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Why am I the Last to Know?

Who's heard of this?

Is it legit?

Anyone interested?

Lemme know.

BLOGATHON

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

My Favorite Whine: But Who has Time??

Mina P. Shaughnessy (1977):

"Rather, the teacher must try to decipher the individual's student's code, examining samples of his writing as a scientist might, searching for patterns or explanations, listening to what the student says about punctuation, and creating situations in the classroom that encourage students to talk openly about what they don't understand."

I must confess that I am rather enjoying this book on grammar. Shaughnessy has such a wonderful wit about her: she demonstrates her own control and usage over the language as she discusses specific topics. For example, as she examines why students do not begin sentences with and or but, she states:

"But until the student has stable criteria for recognizing the sentence, he is often likely to begin not a sentence but a fragment with and and then think his error lies in using and rather than in failing to follow and with a sentence."

Isn't that terribly clever?

On another note, at first, I was annoyed with what I considered Shaughnessy's lame excuse for relying on the masculine pronoun for the student all the way through 8 chapters. But she also uses the pronoun to discuss teachers as well:

"After having tried various ways of circumventing the use of the masculine pronoun in situations where women teachers and students might easily outnumber men, I have settled for the convention, but I regret that the language resists my meaning in this important respect. When the reader sees he, I can only hope she will also be there."

I want to think that she settled on the masculine pronoun because through most of the book she discusses the errors that students make and that she didn't want to make that student a female (who needs more negative energy on female out there?). But the truth is that she was probably just another woman caught in the 70s power struggle and needed to comply with conventions somewhat in order to get this important work on the shelves. Still. I feel a bit clobbered over the head.

Monday, July 25, 2005


On my hike through the falls yesterday, I spied an interesting little family here. The critters must be doing well this year, because this is the first summer I've seen them this time of day and scattered throughout the park. Pappa Busch, Mamma Nestle, and weee little baby Squeezit. Awww. Ain't they cute? Posted by Picasa


I also was lucky enough to capture a quick snapshot of these little fellows at the top of a gourge . . . Posted by Picasa


When it sat still, I couldn't believe my luck--so I took another pic. Posted by Picasa

7 Pages of Google Text

and I still haven't found anyone
linking Michael Polish's _Northfork_
with Faulkner?? Hello?

And although I am still piecing the fiendish film
together in my own mind,
I'd like to hear some commentary on
that which is submerged . . . and that which cann fly . . .

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Not to Sound Psychotic

Awww--I can just hear those twins signing
in their metalic, sing-song voices
a song they would have claimed to have made up themselves:

Bra---ains, POP, Bra-----ains, POP,
chewy
chewy
chewy, Bra------ains, POP!

I love them,
I love them,
POP,
Chewy, chewy, chewy Brains!


Ha. It's so funny how people tend to take one
much more seriously when there is a doctor involved.

Inner Monologue: May be Incomprehensible, Move Along to Next Blog

I so want to tell you where I am going today.
This squirrley identity is becoming harder and harder
to maintain.

I wonder/think/hope this new difficulty is because
my private and public lives are beginning to gravitate
closer to eachother. If so, "yea."

If I told you were I was going today,
even though it is a bit of a drive,
if I gave you the link to see the magnificiant pics,
you would so know where I was located.

Then you'd want to stop in for coffee, no doubt.

And it's not that I wouldn't love to have you stop in,
but one look around my domestic sphere
and you would know all my secrets, most of my heart.

And then if you would reject me,
based on this new insight,
I would be crushed. But smile anyway.

But this isn't the truth . . . is it?
no, I think there is also a "darker" reason . . .
a reason I will either have to sort out in my hand written journal
or come back to later in life
b/c I have no clue what to do with this information . . .

Ok, maybe you can benefit from this brutal honesty:
what if I just want to trump everyone?
what if I want to put on this facade that I have everything together,
that I have a wonderful life,
that I am on top of the world?
and then--
what if I had you to coffee,
and you saw my domestic sphere,
a sphere which reflects uncontrollable aspects of my life,
well then,
I may not be trumping anyone at all.

Isn't that an awfully dark thought? confession?
But what could I possibly do with such information?
Sigh. I've never learned to accept my place in life.

Grrr. If a student ever wrote "life" as many times
as I have on this post, I'd X them all out--
terrible writing.

But I wish I could say where I was going today
and send you the pictures.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Too Early

Even having my blood drawn flopped
yesterday.
Because I am also having a "CHEM 7" [?]
I needed to be NPO for 12 hours.

So yeah, I write this quick post to you
without a drop of coffee.
But I need to say that
I turned down the job afterall.

I simply couldn't go into that recylcing plant
[read garbage dump place, from what my partner tells]
and "motivate"
the 16 yearold-schitzo-male-who-needs-a-full-time-care-giver
by telling him he's got to "make that money."

But what really sealed the deal
and made me call the big boss to decline
the gratious offer was the fact that
the job coach coordinator LIED about me. [?WTF]
She said that she never mentioned me transporting anyone.

Now where would I even get an idea like that?
I don't know shit about this job and/or company.
Huh? I'm too confused to even begin sorting out the politics.

Now to give my blood in return for some peace.

But I am really bummed that I won't get to tell you
any cool stories . . . unless I make them up.

Oh--and I'm keeping their little First Aid Kit. [Plllth!]

Friday, July 22, 2005

Western Medicine or Crack?? Choices, choices . . .

I called my doctor by her first name
when she finally (over an hour wait)
entered the exam room.

She quickly, yet indriectly, corrected me
by introducing herself as "Dr. ___"--
why'd I do that??

In a flutter, I spilled my guts.
But when the moment came,
I really didn't have much to spill . . .

Within 5 minutes, she had perscribed Lexapro.
She looked in my ears
[no infection to explain the dizziness/vertigo, oops],
listended to my heart/lungs,
felt my tummy, and was finished. On to the next patient.
I have an order for blood work,
and if the Lexapro doesn't do its magic
with the physical manifestations of my anxiety,
well then,
it's off for an MRI of my brain.

All of my squirrelymojo secrects will be divulged.
Which is what I think They are after.

But I'm bothered:
why do physicians (she was the third)
spend 5 minutes looking at me
and "see it all over me"? It being anxiety and/or depression.
I'm disappointed and, gulp, my feelings are hurt
that she didn't want to talk to me.

I know that's stupid for a gazillion reasons,
but still.

I have a headache and I need a nap.
She did actually say she wanted to get me started on the Lexapro
because she didn't know where to begin, or how to sort out my symptoms.

And she's the professional.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

My Head is Going to Explode

I wish.
Oh how I desperately wish.

I went to "orientation" today--
and legally, that's probably all I can say.

I had to sign what seemed like 40 papers
stating I would not divulge any company information
[salary info seemed to be a top priority;
have I given you my theories on that?].
I signed the papers, but vowed to myself
that events including me
where mine to blog or do whatever I please with.


When I filled out the W2 info, I was uneasy:
"I thought I was a contract employee?"

Filling out the paper work at this point in life
is such a breeze. Especially, if you aren't out to please.

I left several spaces blank even (ie. salary info & contact/references)--
which was particularly liberating.

BUT the bottom line:
I was hired as a lackey.
A part-time, on-call job coach for $9 an hour.

When I received Monday's assignment,
it looked like this:

1] Drive 40 minutes north from where you live
TRANSPORT MRDD female to job site 40 minutes south from you.

2] Coach her from 9:00am until you pick up Scitzo/Bi-polar male
from job site 35 minutes east from you.

3] Then go back to the first site and transport her home.

4] Round trip: 7:30am-5:30pm. 10 hour shifts this week.


HOLD THE PHONE.

I have a job/career.
I was simply offering to stand in a pinch for my partner @ 4 hour blocks.
"TRANSPORT"? WTF? I have had absolutely no training
and couldn't even really pass the test on HIPAA/ePHI--
not alone deal with a scitzo/bi-polar male,
who normally has a care giver, alone
in the car with me.

I dread talking to these people--what a mess!
I collaspe under any pressure--I feel the need to accomodate
so my partner doesn't look like an ass!

O why O why can't a big rock just fall on me??


Can you make out the parachute? The "beast" in the _Lord of the Flies_ was really a dead man in a parachute breezing along the top of the jungle--do you remember that? Posted by Picasa

Rapidly Spinning Out of Control

Ack. I wish I was better with names.
Are these people just that un important to me?!?

It's ridiculous.

But how many Pats, Robs, Cindys, ect.
can a brain hold without popping something?

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Monsoon II

I really don't know how to put this,
but after the bizzare lunch,
I never expected my father to walk around
to the back of the house and catch me in my two-piece,
sunbathing.

I was put out.
I simply wanted to collapse & rethink what in the h*ll
I was doing with this part time work, my Habitat efforts,
and how to arrange preparing for my Fall classes.

He had my sister's two daughters with him, ages 5 and 2,
and I suspect he came here
because he simply didn't know what to do with them.

My sister, age 26 this fall, has just had another female child,
age 29 hours--HOURS.
The baby is beautiful, healthy, and strong.
I plan to see her/them again this evening.
[Can a sibling ever "rescue" another?]

I just couldn't imagine entertaining my recently
estranged father, by myself, for the next 5 hours--
while chasing after the 2 year old.

Plus, not to be overtly superficial, but
my fading tan needs serious attention.

Already, I have began the process of blocking most
of what he had to say . . .
but he did speak of the fateful events of ten years ago:

"yadda yadda -- when you see a snake,
you want to warn your children. But they won't listen.
And they just get bit."

Did he mean the pregnancy??!? Of course he must have.

After a few moments of silence,
I looked away and retorted cooly:
"Yes, you can't always protect your children.
They must learn these lessons in life for themselves.
All you can do is wait beside them
with the first aid kit."

That should give Mr. Metaphor something to soak on.

And Then--Monsoons

Bloggers can go for a stretch without anything to really say,
then, all at once, become absolutely flooded with blog-type scenerios.

For instance,
I had lunch today with the woman over seeing the "camp."
She sat down, tossed aside her appointment book,
and immediately stated:

"This isn't an interview. So don't think it is. Just don't
think I am going to sit here and interview you.
I really have to go to the bathroom.
I'll order this tea, then I have to go. To the bathroom.
But no, swing by tomorrow and fill out the paper work,
but this isn't an interview . . ."

Why can't a 60K+ w/ full binnies go like that?

So I had lunch with her,
another woman who looked like Olivia Newton John,
and my partner.

Seeing my partner in this type of environment
made me realize just how weird my partner really is.
No details here, just trust me.

But the woman who was hiring me was one of "those."
She was all about meeting me and feeling my, uh, energy.
She needed to know if I had a positive or negative energy,
and how that might fit into the dynamics of her team.

Interview-type questions really couldn't give her such information,
I suppose,
because "answers" can be faked.
Instead, she talked to me about pets. At length.

Luckily, I have a cat.
Unluckily, he isn't mated.
I should look into that.
Even if he doesn't have balls.

She visibly flinched when we began to talk about fencing
and I mentioned a friend of mine
who has invisible fencing for her 2 acres in the country-side.
In all fairness,
the woman never flinched until I mentioned
the "training" of the dogs--you know, when they are >zapped<
in order to teach them their boundaries.

That was a moment of bad energy.

But I really dug her ear-rings, which were the type
I can either never afford, or am not brave enough to wear.
No, they were not crystals.

So, I fill out the paper work tomorrow.
Then, for the next 2 weeks, Tuesday-Friday, 9am-2pm,
I will job coach an 18-year-old woman with MRDD
at a discount store about 40 minutes away.

I have no clue what I'm doing.


Avacado, speaking of pictures--I've been trying to post this since yesterday [thanks picasa/hello]; I took this picture of a little boy I fell in love with on vacation . . . if, IF I had children, I imagine they would be like him . . . What do you think of the lighting and reflection??? Posted by Picasa

OK, HeroZero

For those who went to:

http://kiteretsu.jp/on/grow3/

and lost their minds along the way,
I'll post the "answer" down below.


Box
Ladder
Egg
Sun
Mountain
Pipe
Propellar
Gear
Tornado
Satelite Dish
Jet Pack
Microwave


Nevermind how long this took me.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Crayola Conspiracy: I'm on to You

I found a 10 pack of Crayola Markers
on sale for under a buck.

I used them tonight;
my hands are covered in reds, blues, greens, and blacks.

I remember seeing the "Washable Crayola Markers"
right beside my bargin buy for like, $3.89.

Do you connect what I connect?

Never before have the "regular" crayolas
bled like they did tonight; they were purposfully
made to bleed so that parents with messy children
might exclaim,
"WTF? I'm going to buy the washables next time!"

Create.

What a loaded word.
Is this a command by blogger?
An option?

Or is it a desire
by the button pusher?

More rains and scattered thunderstorms today.
I am suppose to be finished with the HH Newsletter,
but it's kindof FUBAR (I exagerate); I am frustrated
that news of the Women Build didn't make it into the Newsletter
at an appropriate time (ie. when it could have also served
as avertisement for people to join).
I don't want to be associated with writing I have little control over.

Also, at the HH Build last week,
I made another contact & was offered another job
at another branch campus . . .
good. But I cannot teach more than 4 classes this Fall.

I forgot to tell:
this Wednesday I will be having lunch with a woman
who is looking for a job coach in a summer youth program
for the mentally challenged youth.
I want to help, and I could certainly use the money,
but I've never worked with [true] mentally challenged youth.
It will suck away the back end of my summer,
but it will only be 4 hours a day
for 4 weeks . . .

and I will have new material to blog.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

A Ditty by Buddy Kaye, Fred Wise, Sidney Lippman

A you're adorable
B you're so beautiful
C you're a cutie full of charms
D you're a darling and
E you're exciting and
F you're a feather in my arms . . .


G you look good to me
H you're so heavenly
I you're the one I idolize
J we're like Jack and Jill
K you're so kissable
L is the love-light in your eyes . . .


M N O P I could go on all day
Q R S T alphabetically speaking you're okay . . .



U make my life complete
V means your very sweet
W X Y Z . . .


It's fun to wander through
the alphabet with you
to tell you what you mean to me.

Not Exactly the ThunderStorm Post I was Expecting

A few days ago, maybe a couple weeks ago--
it's summer, who can keep track of time?--
I made a comment on quipsodelica
about making love in a thunderstorm . . .

Sigh. I imagine that if I did ever have children,
those possibilities might change . . .

For instance, when trailing on
a simple one mile picnic loop,
as a family,
I might be too busy picking blackberries
and stuffing our faces purple
to take heed of a little thunder.
Yet when the rains did start to pour,
I'd giggle gloriously with adventure underneath the foliage.

Lightning probably wouldn't concern me too much,
because a baseball field had just been struck several days ago,
killing one man--what are the chances of it striking
the same town this soon?

So I would let the children run in the rain,
splash in the mud,
trample on through the well worn path of a
well-known hike.

In fact, I'd even let the kids run ahead a bit . . .
my partner and I, soaked to the skin,
with rivlets of rain on our faces
might come upon a small plank bridge
and begin to kiss passionately.

I'd think about the times we made love in the rain,
about the warmth of our bodies
under the dripping canopy, the solitude and quite . . .
until it became too quite & I'd finally remember the children.

Without worries, I'd skip ahead
and we'd catch up to the first who was always lagging behind,
waiting to be pulled along the trail,
or better yet,
hoisted onto someone's shoulders.

Exiting the loop, with rain comeing down in sheets,
I'd probably hear the cries of another
child who took a wrong turn up ahead.
When I'd reach the second child,
that's when I'd noticed that the oldest one,
the one who thinks she knows everything there is/was to ever know,
was no where to be seen.


Instead of making love in the woods during a thunderstorm,
I'd probably spend the next half hour
looking for the third child, who skipped ahead of the blue trail
onto the green without any hesitation,
and debating on when to call the ranger . . .

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Sweet Emptiness

Tonight is a work night for me:
Habitat Letter, done;
English 151 Schedule, done;
Random Templates formatted;
Excessive Blog Reading, 45% complete . . .

I just can't read any more blogs tonight--
I'm too close to exposing myself.
Name:
Age/D.O.B:
Gender:
Race:
Height/Weight/Physical Appearance:
Sexual Preferrence:
Geographical Location:
Religious Background:
Economic Stratification:
Familia Situation:
Hobbies:

I click on blogs I haven't visited for a while
and >BAM< new formats, fonts, and pics knock me around--
witty prose where ever I go--
and I grow o so tired of being a squirrleymojo.

A Squirrely Kindof Tim at That

Tim, Tim, Tim you are simply to squirrely
to live in Columbus, Ohio. I've heard
it's a mysterious transitional space
where writers can be either sucked into oblivion
or rebound into stardom . . .
When do you get out?

Sigh. Grr, grr. I'm not the squirrle you all hoped
I might be.
I sit here, right now, in this cool space typing
because at the build site it is HOT, sweaty/smelly,
and somewhat dangerous--at least to my bored brain.

When people pick up the nail gun, look down the shooter
and say, "Now why ain't this thing working?" I believe
the situation has turned dangerous. Most of the folks
have been there all week and they are tired, crabby,
and a bit clumsy too =Dangerous. They throw hammers,
hang out windows, half-ass electrical wiring,
eat without washing their hands.
It's a disaster waiting to happen.

Plus, I'm sore. Cinder blocks get heavier
as you move each one. The first couple are light
no problem;
the last few make me tremble.
Wrapping the house & windows was great.
I know what those litttle orange dots are for now,
and I can slice through that stuff with a 4" blade
all too naturally . . .


Reading Joyce, Tim, I think I have finally pinned down
perhaps the single most problem I have with writing:

I am not in love with words.

I am in love with a particular version of myself
that I have created when it comes to voice on page,
and I am in love with ideas,
but I carry no great love for the language itself . . .
letting the letters roll off my tongue with deep relish--
hearing the echo of vowels against my throat, chest, and cheeks . . .
nope. Not for me. Letters are a burden I'd rather lay down
and telepathically communicate emotions & concepts . . .

therefore, I am doomed as a writer:
I have no story--I have no language--just doom.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

But Isn't Drilling a Hole in Someone's Roof a Crime?

The local police, of course,
haven't done anything. Even though it was quite a scene.

We don't live to far from a fire station,
so Officer T called for a ladder.

I went into the house and made everyone tea.
At 4:30 in the morning.
A couple of neighbors came out in their robes.
I still don't know their names.

Officer T was a bit hefty around the mid-section,
and I worried about him falling through our roof.

They didn't even take pictures--
wouldn't you think they'd take pictures?
I mean, does this happen everyday?
AND he only had one glove on. WTF?

When he came down from the ladder,
he was holding the bag in hand.
"just a kitchen concotion. smells like cornstarch.
some kids making a prank no doubt. you teach, right?"

He actually put that queer slime up to his nose?
I could see that there would be no lab testing,
no finger-printing, no real investigation. Afterall,
I guess this isn't the X-files or CSI . . .

"I don't teach kids." I told Officer T.
"And I don't teach aliens."

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Narfed Again!

O how I wish I could paste this pic to this post for my dear friend sumo!

Meanwhile, I woke up this morning with a strange
headache. And a blob of slime on my pillow.

I checked my head for holes and couldn't find any.

But above my bed,
dripping from the ceiling, I found the source.

It was 4am, so I knew I needed a flashlight.
I didn't want to wake my partner, so I slipped out
quietly onto the roof.

There were no stars out.
Just thick clouds from an approaching storm.

When I found the spot
I suspected was right above my bed,
and after I had scraped my knee twice,
I clearly saw that one of the shingles had been pulled back.

Duct-taped in its spot was what looked like
a bag of saline solution from some hospital,
only the bag was half full of this slimy substance
that had dripped down near my face.

Now, who would want to assassinate me?

Tuesday, July 12, 2005


Do these look like gophers? I mean, could they? From a distance? A funny story . . . Posted by Picasa

So yeah, I christened the Habitat House
with my head
the moment I stepped through the frame.

Lately, I've been, well, a sort-of,
let's just say, clutz with vertigo . . .
not a good combo for a construction site?
Who says? Whatev.

After that initial embarrassment,
b/c that's when I was being introduced, naturally,
I basically stood around with my hands on my hips,
out in the blaring sun,
like so many road contruction crews I've seen.

Ahhh, the understanding. Finally.

But seriously?
I can lift. My body, my muscles felt great.
The people were absolutely fantastic.

You should definately try this.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Bloggermon--Gotta Catch Them All!

Have you noticed all the "exotic"
[define this loaded word by self-connotation please]
blogs floating around?

I'm not sure what to make of it . . . [?]

Is our small world this fantastic?
I never dreamed (fully, I guess).
Or are we simply this connected?
How are all of these horribly interesting personas
finding ways to manage/balance such facinating lives
with the burden of blogging,
ie. how do they both live and write such lives?

Why can't I?

One of my most favorite blogs
has a rather impressive set of links listed
by geography in places and contexts
I wouldn't expect many bloggers (at least blogging in English)
. . . hmmm . . .
are my expectations askew? Perhaps that's the ticket.

I do know: I am running into far fewer people in
how I might describe my own context
than I did a few months ago . . .

Automated Nail Drivers

And so begins the Women's Build at Habitat today.
I plan to make it over to the site as much as I can,
but I also plan to shy away from the nail driver.
I guess I've seen one too many x-rays
of construction workers who thought they had a tooth ache
to suddenly discover 6 inch nails in their skulls.

I don't think a squirrel could withstand such an attack.

I confess being down to one yoga session every 7-10 days.
My body, especially my neck, feels a bit stiff and sore.
When I rode in the center of an inflatable wheel down my yard
yesterday, my ab muscles under the ribs cramped up . . .
Yet, I feel so stingy with my energy.

Because I am sitting here blinking with a flashing cursor,
I guess I'll go do "something" productive . . .
but, >pst< I really want to write,
write something dreamy that everyone would love to read,
something that people could find & lose themselves in . . .
something heroic and plain . . . real and fantastical . . . hummmmm . . .

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Finally! A Way to Breeze through Time and Space

I love SCI-FI:
Squirrleymojo's Teleportation Device. BUY NOW

We must envision the furture
in order to see it come to pass.


So what would that suggest about the Bill Murray
flick I saw last night, _Life Aquatic_?

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Those Who Know Me Know

Thirteen years later I woke up,
stumbled through the door,
down the hall.
I muttered a few admonishments and flicked on the light.

To be sure they were there.

Silence. Some stars glowed.

The light hurt my head,
so I quickly turned it off
and saw the cold lights overhead from my memory.
And I heard the panting, the begging for mercy
as if it never really came from me.

*
*
*
*
*

I am in such a bubble.
How to get out?--
without being too uncomfortable, that is?

*
*
*
*
*

So, Joyce's _Portrait_ resistantly consumes my thoughts,
yet I am only on the 5th page. All summer I have implicitly heard:
the patriarchy bows down for me [grin], so upon occasion,
I should bow down to it.

What a stupid trailer to play through my mind.

*
*
*
*
*

I have to go now--have got to make this day count.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Cambridge

Last night, I had dinner with my friend,
who just came back from England
a few days ago . . .

A few minutes ago,
I just received news about the attacks . . .

so, forgive me, but I don't feel much like blogging
at the moment--I'll tell you this:
this event has changed my synapses from blogging
about a fun night out with an incredible friend to . . .

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

The Little Things We Forget

I had an emergency errand I needed to run
first thing this morning:
so I leaped out of bed, in my nightie and bare feet,
out the back door and down to the end of our yard.

The cool dew on my bare feet was delicious.
How could I ever forget such a sensation?

I paused to look around at the fresh morning
and stood amazed at how the sun's rays slanted across the yard.

I always mean to take my morning coffee
on the back porch, but I seldom do . . .
instead I sit here and pound out email for the day,
or wring words for this blog.

Yet, when I came back inside,
this morning after my dip in the sun,
I had a real thirst
for _Hamlet_, Act III:


To StatCount, or not to StatCount,-- that is the question:--
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to count
The visitors and geekers of our glorious blogs,
Or to imagine wistfully about those who may pass by,
And by ignorance justify our writing?--To calculate,--to compute,--
Don't start; and by a computation to say we understand
The types and the thousand natural habits
Of those who surf the web,--'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To calculate,--to compute;--
To know! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub;
For in that knowing of calculation what visitors may come,
When we have stripped our blogs this lasting wonder,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes knowing the secretive so punative . . .

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

A Little Sum Sum I've Been Working On [Due: September 2005]

ENG 151
Writing as Reflective Action: A Reader
Paper Sequences
by Squirrleymojo



Sequence One: Exploring the Self
Readings: Robert Coles’ “Entitlement,” Annie Neeposh Iserhoff’s “Excerpts,” and bell hooks’ “Killing Rage.”
Paper One: Reflective Essay/Narrative on the Self, Focus on Cultural Blindness
[Prompt adapted from p. 145]
Write an essay in which you define cultural blindness by including examples from the three texts you have read and reflective examples from your own life’s situations. For example, examine your own life through the definition you come up with and consider such questions as how and when you might have been (or are) culturally blind. How does this blindness affect your life and your understanding of others?

Reading #1: Coles’ “Entitlement”
Prewriting: Learning to resource and reflect on what you already know [p. 19].
*Establish background on Coles and suggest topics/ideas to look for [p. 48].
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 4-5 passages.
Day One: Begin discussion w/dialogue journals.
“What” is being said? Summary.
Supporting what you know textually–“how do you get that?”
Connotation v denotation.
Work through Qs on p. 81-82, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: “How” does Coles establish meaning and purpose?
Objectivity v subjectivity. What counts as logos.
Methodology.
Anecdotal evidence.
Work through Qs on p. 82, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p.83]:
Write a description of your family life applying Coles’ arguments to yourself and the psychology and economic context of your childhood. To what things, rights, advantages did you feel “entitled,” and where did this sense of entitlement come from?
Reading #2: Iserhoff’s “Excerpts”
What is a personal narrative? Under what context does Iserhoff tell her story? How does Iserhoff’s perspective differ from Coles’ [p.84]?
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 3-4 passages.
Day One: Sharing from journals.
“What” is being said? Summary.
World views.
Explicit & implicit arguments and meanings.
Work through Qs on p. 99, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: Who is shaping meaning, and how?
Tone / Voice / Diction
How does pathos work in this essay?
Work through p. 99-100, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p.100]:
Write your own personal narrative in which you have found yourself shifting cultures. Was the shift painful in any way? How might understanding Iserhoff’s experiences help you rethink your own transitions between or among cultures?
Reading #3: hooks’ “Killing Rage”
How have we been taught to think, talk and feel about race? What would it be like if we were invited to dive into the mind of a black woman? What are our expectations of how black intellectuals should write academically?
Assign reading w/dialectical journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Exchange journals for comment.
What argument(s) does hooks explicitly make?
Who is her audience?
How do we feel reading this essay?
Work through Qs on p. 110, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: Analyze hook’s rhetorical moves.
Can anger be used for change?
Can writing (and thinking) be viewed as action?
Work through p.110-11, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p.111]:
We tend to think of anger as a negative emotion, but hooks suggests otherwise. Can you think of an experience or instance in which anger helped someone else to change? Was this a positive change, as hooks imagines the result of her anger to be, or was it a negative change? Be sure to give vivid details to the context of your anecdote.

Working the First Paper
Day One: What is a Reflective Essay?
What is Cultural Blindness? [p. small group work from 145]
Finding connections in the readings.
Day Two: Brainstorming what you want to say.
What is “good” writing?
Understanding the rubric.
Day Three: Peer Critiques.
First Draft Due w/conference.





Sequence Two: Constructing Identity
Readings: Gloria Steinem’s “Ruth’s Song,” Doug Robinson’s “The Hurt, Betrayed Son,”and Victor Villanueva’s “An American of Color.”
Paper Two: Forming and Sustaining an Argument, Focus on Role Playing in Society
[Prompt adapted from p. 258]
Thinking about one of the many roles you have learned to play, consider how much of that role is biological/genetic, and how much of it is learned. From what social influences, from which people, did you “learn your lines”? Compare your learning process with that of Ruth Steinem, Rambo, or Victor Villanueva. Would you say that you have been “programmed,” or have you been left with a good deal of freedom to reinvent the role, should you wish to do so?

Reading #1: Steinem’s “Ruth’s Song”
Prewriting: Reflecting on roles in pop culture and within the family [p. 149].
*Establish background on Steinem and suggest topics/ideas to look for [p. 150-3].
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Begin discussion w/dialogue journals.
“What” is Steinmen’s implicit argument? Summary.
What roles does she examine? List. Consequences?
What transformations do you see at work?
Work through Qs on p. 169, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: How is meaning implied & still understood?
Collage & fragments.
Looking for Patterns.
Private v Public Arguments.
Qs on p. 169-70, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW:
One implicit argument that Steinem makes by simply writing about her mother is that there are millions of voices that go unheard. Because reflexivity asks that you step into another’s shoes, to see the world from that person’s view, try writing a 2 page letter from your mother to yourself. Avoid chatty tones; instead, aim for seriously considering what your mother may want to tell you about her own life that she has never been able to disclose with you for whatever reasons. [Due to the nature of this very personal assignment, you may choose to submit the work folded in half and stapled for your own privacy.]

Reading #2: Robinson’s “Betrayed Son”
Can film be “read”? What rhetorical devices might film use? Can film influence the ways in which we feel and think about “others”? Do films implicitly model what it means to be gendered?
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Play a clip from the film.
“What” is Robinson’s main argument? Summary.
Define “programmed.”
Qs on p. 189, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: Academic uses of quotations.
Analyze context/purpose of each quotation.
Work through p. 190, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p.190]:
Write about one particular film that has had the most influence on you. What role did you identify the most with? How did the film work to create certain expectations about society or expectations you may have about others?Reading #3: Villanueva’s “American”
What does it mean to be “American”? What does it mean to be a minority in America today? What does it mean to belong to the majority? How does class and educational opportunity help define who we are, who we turn out to be?
Assign reading w/dialectical journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Exchange journals for comment.
What’s the problem?
Alienation v. assimilation.
Metaphor of the “melting pot.”
Work through Qs on p. 209-10, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: Analyze Villanueva’s rhetorical moves.
Multiple voices.
Defining terms; logos, pathos, ethos.
“Blended” writing, advantages & disadvantages.
Work through p.210, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p.211]:
Think back through your own memories of childhood and young adulthood. Write a brief collage of your own. Use your memories as the stories or vignettes. Then read back over your collage noticing connections or similar themes and ideas about your own identity. Finally, identify one theme or idea that you find and add or delete stories in order to create a clustering around that particular theme.
Working the Second Paper
Day One: Analyzing arguments.
P. 258 small group work on socially constructed roles.
Finding connections in the readings.
Day Two: Finding your own argument.
Citing from the text Work Shop.
Grammatical WorkShop as needed..
Day Three: Peer Critiques.
First Draft Due w/optional conference.






Sequence Three: Engaging Culture
Readings: Jane Tompkins’ “Me and My Shadow,” James William Gibson’s “Paintball As Combat Sport,” and Clifford Geertz’ “From the Native’s Point of View.”
Paper Three: Critical Analysis, Focus on Public/Private and Mother/Father Tongue
[Prompt adapted from p. 346]
In “Me and My Shadow,” Tompkins quotes Ursula Le Guinn’s speech at a Bryn Mawr college commencement (270). Return to that passage and read it carefully. Write an analytical essay in which you examine Tompkin’s, Gibson’s, and Geertz’ essays for examples of “mother tongue” and “father tongue.” Be sure to comment on how these examples work rhetorically and how they serve the writer in making her or his points and arguments. If you’d like, you could also critique the notion of mother/father tongue as Le Guin defines it and Tompkins makes use of it.
Reading #1: Tompkins’ “Shadow”
Prewriting: If we have different roles we use to function in society, what do those roles sound like on paper? What voices do we use? Describe how you might define public and private writing. What are your expectations for each [p. 261]?
*Establish background on Tompkins and suggest topics/ideas to look for [p. 262-65].
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Begin discussion w/dialogue journals.
“What” is Tompkins’ argument? Summary.
Can two voices ever be “whole”?
What’s the relationship between writing and reading?
Work through Qs on p. 281, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: What’s so different/difficult for Tompkins in the essay? Does it work?
Stylistic features.
Transitions.
Private and Public Arguments.
Qs on p. 281, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p. 282]:
Find three examples of academic discourse from the field in which you wish to study, for example scholarly journals. Analyze these articles; do they demonstrate the features of academic writing that Tompkins objects to or approves of? Would you call your finds examples of “mother” or “father” tongue? Perhaps a blend? Write a short analysis of your findings.

Reading #2: Geertz’ “Native’s”
What is a cultural study? How might reflexivity be important to the study of another culture outside of one’s own? What are the roles of an anthropologist and/or an ethnographer?
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Understanding the text. Small group work on Java / Bali / Morocco.
What’s is being said?
Day Two: Reflexivity
Oscillation between Public and Private.
Work through Qs on p. 340-1, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Three: Methodology.
Abstract & concrete details.
Point of view.
“Objectivity.”
Work through p.341, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”

Reading #3: Gibson’s “Paintball”
How do you feel about war? Could war games be considered a ritual transition from boyhood to manhood? Does our culture glorify or admonish war? Do we view war privately or publically?
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Play an arrangement of clips from various films:
Apocalypse Now, Braveheart, Saving Private Ryan, etc.
What is a “paramilitary culture”? Summarize essay.
Is there a connection between fantasy & reality?
What are the implicit argument about class in this essay?
Is this a “cultural study”? Why or why not?
Qs on p. 314, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: What counts as evidence?
Can an “I-less” essay still have the author’s presence?
Organization.
Work through p. 314, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p.314]:
For the next two days, as a collaborative writing assignment, identify some aspect of culture that as a group you think would lend to a cultural study or critique. Observe and take notes. Briefly interview at least one person who is involved or touched in the activity or item you have chosen. How does this artifact or phenomenon seem to work or engage in society? What is the significance of your findings?
Working the Third Paper
[Note: If the class is truly engaged with the collaborative assignment above, it can easily be developed into a formal paper itself.]
Day One: Small Group Discussion from p. 346.
What connections can you find between public and private writings?
How do the concepts of “mother” and “father” fit academic essays?
Day Two: Analysis, breaking down & fitting back together.
Revision WorkShop.
Grammatical WorkShop as needed..
Day Three: Peer Critiques.
Paper Due. [Option to rewrite non-disclosed]


Sequence Four: Writing in the Community/Writing as Action
Readings: Studs Terkel’s “Working the Land,” Wallace Terry’s “Private First Class Reginald ‘Malik’ Edwards, Phoenix, Louisiana,” and John Tateishi’s “Violet De Cristoforo–Tule Lake.”
Paper Four: Research Paper, MLA Format.
[Prompt adapted from p. 431]
Select one of the oral histories in this section and conduct some simple research on historical developments relevant to your choice (for example, developments in agriculture since WWII, the deployment of Black soldiers in Vietnam, or the internment of Japanese during WWII, ect). Then, write an essay in which you compare the historical generalizations you find to the individual accounts embodied in oral histories. In what respects do the two accounts differ? Concur? What conclusions can you draw?
Reading #1: Terkel’s “Land”
Prewriting: If histories are written and composed by those in power for others who share power, what might be lost along the way? What do we know about the stories of ordinary people in times of historical events?
*Establish background on Oral Histories and flesh out its complications [p.360-362].
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Begin discussion w/dialogue journals.
What values are established in this piece? Summary.
Do the speakers see themselves in the “bigger” picture?
Work through Qs on p. 375, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Day Two: How does Terkel “frame” this essay?
Can you imagine Terkel’s editing process?.
What does Terkel hope to reveal here?.
Qs on p. 281, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW [p. 326]:
Do you see the past a kind of golden age from which we have fallen or a brutal, primitive existence above which we have risen? Think about Walker and Acuna’s world view; does it affect how they see their future? In what ways? Does this line of thought speak to you about how you see the past, as well as your own future?
Reading #2: Terry’s “Edwards”
How might oral histories work as cultural studies? How might the historian use reflexivity to piece together what is of value, what is important? In this excerpt, look for the intersection between race and war.
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Memory and experience.
Paradox & process.
Multiple stereotypes.
“Institutionalized insanity.”
Day Two: Composition.
Patterns of organization.
Attention to language.
Surfacing the role of Media (again).
Work through Qs on p. 389, “Reflecting on the Reading.”
Informal Writing HW [p.390]:
Allow students to choose from the three prompts given.
Reading #3: Tateishi’s “Tule Lake”
Read through Tateishi’s intro: “In a time of war, at home or abroad, political judgement can be colored by emotion, patriotism, and fear.” Is this statement true? Today?
Assign reading w/dialogue journal, 2-3 passages.
Day One: Exploring how we think and feel about his text.
What do we make of Violet’s tone & why?
How do we, as outsiders, explain her situation?
Who is to blame?
Day Two: Rhetoric of culture.
Understatement.
Sensory detail.
Work through p. 406, “Understanding Rhetorical Strategies.”
Informal Writing HW:
Take two pages to theorize, in free-writing format, on resistance and compliance found in individuals. Why do some people resist the predicaments in which they find themselves while others become silently complacent. Do you have a personal account that might illustrate your ideas? If so, relate the story with as many sensory details that you can muster.
Working the Fourth Paper
Day One: Choosing an area of interest.
Listing key words to begin your search.
Research WorkShop (finding the conversation).
In-text MLA Workshop.
Day Two: Fitting into the conversation.
Working with quotations from multiple sources.
Documentation & Works Cited.
Day Three: Peer Critiques.
First Draft Due w/conference.


Sorry about the format peeps--didn't quite transfer . . . enjoy!

The Day After

I have a love/hate relationship with entertaining.
Especially at my house.

I love to receive compliments on my food,
my "housekeeping" [Marilynne Robinson],
if you will, and I love having dinnerware set
exactly right. Entertainment, set. Precisely. Ect.

What I hate are the people.
The "guest" who come and screw everything up.
Dirty the dinnerware, rumple the rugs and throw pillows,
leave glasses strung about.

Perhaps that's why I love my blogging relationships--
less mess.


OK, ok, so I don't really hate people; I'm just trying to be
sarcastically funny--I love my friends (eyes rolling) & fam (most
of them)--yadda yadda. Blah blah. Why does clarification pain me so?

BTW--you know you are getting to "close" to your fictionalized
audience when you begin to justify & qualify your own
statements, on your own blog, when you don't even feel like it!
Grr.

Is it bed time yet?

Monday, July 04, 2005

Groan. Not ANOTHER Holiday

How patriotic is that?
I should be out singing:
Rah rah; America, F*ck yeah . . .

But really, how could I ever hope
to be a mother?

Holiday after holiday;
craft after craft. Relatives.
Relatives.

What would I cook, year after year?

Eventually, the cycle of holidays
would bust my brain.

Being a teacher the past couple of years,
I think I have forgotten the true meaning
of holidays:

A Paid Day Off from Work.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Rabanadas from Brazil

8 slices white bread
2 cups milk
2tbsp plus 1 cup sugar
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
Pinch of salt
3 large eggs, separated
About 1 cup of vegetable oil
Serves 4 to 6

1] Heat oven on low setting. Cut bread in half diagonally, or use a cookie cutter to cut out circles.

2] Put milk and 2tbsp. Sugar in a large, shallow bowl and stir. Leave bread to soak 10 minutes.

3] Mix sugar, cinnamon, and salt together in bowl, leave aside.

4] Put egg whites in a clean bowl. Using an electric mixer, beat until they are thick and stand in stiff peaks when the beaters are lifted. Add egg yolks and beat again until thick.

5] Heat a few table spoons of oil in large skillet over medium heat. Remove a slice of bread from milk and dip in eggs. Fry until golden. Using a spatula, turn over. Continue frying until golden.

6] Drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Keep warm in oven.

Or try it like this. Did someone say rum?

Volunteer Work: Not Getting Paid for the Same Old Office Politics

I forgot to mention that Habitat for Humanity (HH) called.
D left a message on the answering machine:

"This is D at HH and I think we have a newsletter to get out.
I know I made a mess with the last one [chuckle].
I will be on site with the build,
so this one is all yours.
Let me know when you can come in." I think there was more,
but this is what I remember.

Did I tell you what happened last time, dear reader?

I had the paper laid out, finished, complete.
I work in WORD, she works in OFFICE.
She's much much older & was uncomfortable with my "skills,"
(for example, she did not know how to use the Copy & Paste buttons--
the Copy and Paste buttons!!! in all fairness,
I couldn't remember how to use her ancient TYPEWRITER
to put fricken page numbers on the news letter).

Blah blah. Having trouble communicating this tale--(hm, why?).

Where was I?

So, I had the paper laid out and told her it was finished.
Call me if you need anything.
3-5 days went by and I did not get my fricken news letter.
It was beyond late.
WTF?
So, I emailed her: "What's up? Need help? Let me know--"

She never replied to my email.
Never.
Not at all.
10-14 days later, I get the news letter & it has a bunch of crap
added in.
She must have been tortured.
Did she retype it all into OFFICE?

That was at the end of May.
And now this call.
I told her (last week) that I could come in Tuesday--
and I haven't heard back from her. AGAIN.

What's worse?
The Women's Build is about to begin
& I haven't recieved a call to help.

I've been told this chapter of HH is very clickish.
And I have no home Church from which to "click" from . . .
does that mean I am not of value??

Actually, I am ambivalent about the build:
on the one hand, can you imagine being a part of building a house?
a whole house?? women's solidarity at last!
on the other hand, who wants to build a house in, uh, _July_,
for two weeks straight?!

Could I just come and go as I please,
without being fully committed?

Wait--that's what I want out of HH.
That's what I thought volunteer work was.
Hmmmm. I guess that's a poor attitude. :-(

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Hmm--Wonder Why

Apparently the following site
has gotten a lot of attention lately,
say in the past week or so. Go figure.

If you have a couple minutes,
scroll all the way down and check out the pics.
Also, what do you think of the Distribution Map?!
Up the fricken Mississippi?!

Ichthyology You May Need to Know.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Yeah, This is Funny

Don't get me wrong,
I didn't belly laugh or anything--
just mildly amusing
while I wait for materials
to work on the non-TOP SECRET basement project.


You scored as Disappear. Your death will be by disappearing, probably a camping trip gone wrong or an evening hike you never returned from.

Suicide

87%

Disappear

87%

Gunshot

80%

Bomb

60%

Accident

47%

Posion

47%

Stabbed

47%

Eaten

40%

Natural Causes

27%

Drowning

13%

Suffocated

13%

Disease

7%

Cut Throat

0%

How Will You Die??
created with QuizFarm.com

The Howl of a Bee Sting

I imagine
that if I were a mother,
I could instantly recognize the cry
from a bee sting, no matter where I was at
in relation to the child at hand.

And for those of you who may not know,
a back yard bee sting in the arch of the foot
by a small honey bee is the worst.
The way the area swells up
makes walking awkward--like walking on a ball.
And the itching!

But of course, being stung by a hornet
or a wasp
is pretty bad too. A wasp can leave multiple stings.
A hornet can leave a deep, red punture wound.

I imagine my kids would be sorry the little critter
died in the act of stinging (in most cases),
but secretly, I'd want to squish the little bug.
The bee; not the kid.

Also, This has been on My Mind

Should I believe

my sister when she tells me
that mom called complaining
that she didn't feel well
because she drank an entire 5th
by herself last night?

and that this seems to happen--
regularly?

One Best Memory/Metaphor

When we first moved to this town,
my partner and I tried to locate
where & when the firework display would be.

We packed a picnic basket and an old blanket,
carried them up a huge flood wall
where people were starting to gather and waited.

At dusk,
a long way off,
on the other side of the park even,
behind some trees,
beyond the artsy pumphouse,
we noticed a small display going off over the city pool.
Music blared.

"We missed it!
I can't believe we missed it!"
For whatever reason that evening,
I was hopelessly disappointed.

Yet, just when I was at the hight of my despair,
one single red rocket fired overhead of me
from about 200 yards away,
deep within the river basin.

I jumped a little, gaped and lay back on the slope.
It was darkening quickly
and the red embers fell from the sky
just over my face it seemed,
in a shower of glittering, primordial delight.
I had never been so close
to such a display that
I actually thought I could reach up into the darkness
and catch a glowing spark.
A magnificient display commenced.

We were so close, in fact,
that year some of the grass nearby
did smolder and smoke for abit.
In subsequent years,
the fire department has moved back the viewing
line with strict yellow paint.