Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Daily Dose - from an undated journal (late kirksville?)

Describing Myself -
He'd become - I'd
become pudgy faced
and barol chested
The leaness of his
youth was giving
way to a kind of
strength in excess - he
still looked healthy
seemed healthy but
his heart was strained
and his veins
constricted from Gin,
whisky, Boef, Bread
A Character like
falstaff or father
Christmas -> becoming
larger than life
Just around the


Saturday, September 27, 2008

Your daily dose today is from one of Karl's favorite poets - I think he would say this if he could:

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me one more time
to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,
for you to smell the sea that we loved together
and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on living
and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,
for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,
so that my shadow passes through your hair,
so that they know by this the reason for my song.

-Pablo Neruda


Friday, September 26, 2008

Can't. Get. Motivated.

The baby is with my Dad and Sue for the day. I'm supposed to be "getting the house in order" but it's just not happening. I'm getting little things done here and there, but i get distracted by things like blogs, youtube, phone calls.... oooh, shiny. That and I'm walking around on tiptoes so I won't wake Elliot up - if he's not getting into trouble he must be in bed! So anyway, just a note to distract myself further, now really, as Karl would say, I'm off to grade.


Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Ok, people suck. Somebody rated my YouTube video a lowly 1 star - who goes on and looks at what is clearly a personal video and feels the need to criticize? Seriously, I wasn't going for an academy award or anything, just sharing home videos. Bastards.


Sunday, September 21, 2008

It's me again. My blog still won't work, and now it's gone back in time. Seems it's trying to save me from something, as it's erased the whole time I knew Karl. My blog is living in 2004. I'm living in 2008. Maybe it's the blogosphere's way of telling me to blog here. Whatever.

Spent some time with V and S, Karl's sisters, this weekend. Also talked to the Kopitskes at the farm - can't wait for our little trip up north in October. I will need a house sitter for a few days - interested? Sleepy now, and yet afraid to sleep. The other night I dreamed that E was sick, and the only way to fix it was for the doctor to put him back. In me. The same way he came out. The just greased him up and, well.... fortunately there was a fade out at that point in the dream - it was left to the imagination, and then here he was rolling and pushing around in the womb. I was so glad to be pregnant again, because I thought it was no longer possible...

Anyway, with dreams like that, who wouldn't want to sleep?



Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Elliot, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Do you want to be an actor?
Would you rather drive a tractor?
Build a nuclear reactor?
Will money be a deciding factor?

Maybe you will fly a plane,
or would you rather forecast rain?
Shrink some heads to keep them sane?
Ok, along a different vein...

You could work inside a zoo
Doesn't matter what you do
(even if you shovel poo)
Mommy *and Daddy* will still love you.

Yes - a little cheese on a wednesday afternoon.


Sunday, September 14, 2008

I can't get my blog to work today, so I'm intruding on Karl's. This is a post meant for my blog titled "How are you?"

It's been 3 weeks now, and this is still maybe one of the hardest questions to really answer. How am I?

I'm a lot of different ways, I guess.

I'm busy. There's a lot to do - not just the settling of Karl's affairs, but just everyday life. As I write this I'm reminded that I haven't paid bills as I meant to today - I need to get on that. There's this big house, and it's floors and it's laundry and it's dishes. It's AC unit that needs the filter changed. It's fish tanks that need food. There's the list of home repairs I am adding to every day. There's enough here to keep me busy without the other things in my life. But there are, of course, other things. I do have a job. I teach classes - I taught one yesterday at the glass studio. I teach every week at UMSL. It's only 6 hours, but there's prep, mental and physical, for every class. Then there's my social life - I've had a social secretary for the last 3 years, and without him I'm lost managing my day. I want to see my friends, my family, but when?? Most important, I'm kept busy by a little ball of energy who seems to be teetering on the edge of walking. Every day, we need to eat, to dress, to play. We need to cuddle, to change, and to bathe. I'm trying so hard to preserve "normal" for him. I keep telling people he's the best medicine, that he makes me feel better than anything else. In my darker moments, I worry that perhaps it isn't medicine at all, but an excuse to indulge myself in a little denial. I don't want him to hurt, so I refuse to hurt when I hold him, lest some bit of that pain pass through my skin and onto his, sinking into his beautiful, joyful world... Yes. So I'm busy.

I'm lonely. I'm not alone at all. I'm surrounded by - afloat in - a deep, rich sea of love. Karl and I often talked with wonder about our luck. We loved eachother, but also our respective friends and families - who gets this lucky? I like, and love, my inlaws, and I adore my friends inherited from Karl - his, then our, now my friends. And my own long time friends couldn't be more supportive.... But, when I hurt, when I want to cry, I look for only one person, the other half of my heart, the only one who could hold me and make this all right. Even with all the love around me, nothing can replace him. Jen had it right - the only person who could comfort us when something hurt this much was Karl, and we couldn't call him. So we all do our best to comfort each other, but I think we are all a little lonely.

I'm joyful, hopeful, numb. Every day Elliot reminds me how beautiful the world is. His innocent joy is infectious, and I can't help but be swept up in it. I'm hopeful about the future - his future and mine. I have resources, not the least of which are my own intelligence, resilience, and strength. Karl and I had plans, and I remind myself that those don't have to go away, just to be modified. We just need to adjust that picture of tomorrow a bit, change the focus, alter the framing.... thing is every time I think about him - or rather the lack of him - I get numb. I feel it in my shoulders where I usually carry stress. It's a strange, loose, empty feeling. A nothing where there should be a something. Not sad, not happy, not weak, not strong. Just nothing. Just empty.

So when you ask, I'll probably say "I'm doing ok. I'm hanging in there. I'm taking it a day at a time." And it's true. I am.


Saturday, September 13, 2008

Just a quick note to let you know I'm uploading some video to YouTube. You can find some silly monkey stuff posted by Jescope starting today. I will try to add a little at a time till I'm out of footage.



Friday, September 05, 2008

Dear Readers,

I have opened up Karl's archive. He had it tucked away in hiding so as not to cause a fuss with some of his more, well, interesting adventures being read by some of his more, well, impressionable students.

I remember once when he was teaching in Hermann we were in the car and I leaned over for a smooch - he kind of looked over his shoulder - was it ok? could he kiss his wife in public? would there be a situation if somebody saw???? "Honey," I said, "I'm your wife. There are limits to how much they can control your public persona." After all, he wasn't running for president. Yet.

I didn't ever take this sort of secrecy well. I'm against hiding, particularly when there's nothing to hide.

So here he is - unhidden and honest in his own words. Archive, up.