SAHM Guilt

Wow. I just realized that it's been three months since I've blogged. For those of you still with me, thank you for sticking around. I've been here, just sort of preoccupied.

Anyhoo, the big news is that I graduated from the Stonecoast MFA Program. Yup. Me. DML, proud owner of a Master's Degree in Creative Writing.

The question I'm hearing from everyone is, "So, Donna, what's next?" And although an MFA typically leads to a life of fame and riches beyond one's wildest dreams, I'm just not sure what my next step should be. I could teach, I could freelance, I could take my Visual Journaling classes on the road. I could find any old job on Monster or JobsinME.com. If something popped up that was appealing, such as a book deal, movie offer, or an offer to teach at one of the ten best graduate writing programs in America, I might look into it. (Iowa hasn't called, but I'm not going to take it personally. I understand. My talent is intimidating.)

I kid, I kid. In all seriousness, I'm struggling with some "stay at home mom" guilt. If I worked, we'd have more money. We're fine now, but we'd have more. I'd have a career, I'd show my daughter what a powerful, independent woman looks like. I'd have spectacular shoes.

Except right now, I really enjoy being there for her. I'm not stressed about school, I don't need her to be quiet because I have a deadline. I love waking my daughter in the morning gently, lounging over breakfast with her. Packing her lunch, not having to yell at her to "get ready or Mommy's going to be late!" My house is clean, the fridge is stocked, and I'm waiting for her when she gets off the bus. I can volunteer at her school, and just...be a mom, for a little while.

One of my problems is that I'm so worried about what other people may be thinking. Does my family (or my husband's) think I'm lazy, that I'm taking advantage, that I have no ambition, that I'm spoiled? That I'm too dependent, too involved, too "traditional"?

The ideal situation would be to have a job working from home, something a bit more predictable than freelancing, but those are difficult to come by.

Any other moms out there struggling with these issues? Feel free to speak up!

Are You There, God? It's Me, Peacock.

On the way to the beach yesterday, I passed the South Gorham Baptist Church. As churches go, it's not a very attractive building--kind of squat and sprawling, in need of paint, with a light-up sign out front that proclaims something new every week. It hasn't said anything that would lure me inside, however, and I doubt it ever will. So why would I even bring this up?

Well, yesterday, as I passed, I glanced over and saw two male peacocks perched on the wrought iron railing, just hanging out, watching the traffic go by. They looked mildly bored, as though this were a common occurrence. People, this is MAINE. We get black flies the size of peacocks, but as far as I know, actual pea fowl don't normally hang out here.

I thought perhaps I'd finally lost it. It was so surreal--they were so beautiful and so out of place--sort of like seeing Elizabeth Taylor dressed in evening finery standing in front of your friend's house. So of course, I turned the car around in busy Memorial Day traffic and stalked them to acquire photographic evidence.

Behold:


They're on the stairs, fleeing the crazy lady tiptoeing toward them with a camera.


Aha! Caught them in the parking lot. I Googled these suckers...they are Blue Indian Peacocks. I suspect they're lost. Or vacationing from Sri Lanka. Or seeking salvation at the South Gorham Baptist Church.



They ran from the parking lot and disappeared into the brush in the woods. They never fanned their tails. I noticed that the feathers, as gorgeous as they are, looked so heavy and cumbersome. What a bummer it must be to have to drag your beauty around by your ass.

Anyway...weirdness! I wonder where they escaped from?

Stone Mountain Arts Center

If you ever have a chance to see a show at the Stone Mountain Arts Center, you MUST.

At first glance, it's not impressive. It's a bit in the middle of nowhere. When you finally arrive after navigating Stephen King-esque roads, you're directed to park in what is basically the side yard of a farmhouse. From the outside it looks like your typical old Maine home, big red barn and all.





It's quaint, but not exactly what you'd expect of a music venue. But then, you enter the barn.


(View of back balcony from the floor)


This place is GORGEOUS. Post and beam, vaulted ceilings, balcony, great acoustics, candlelit, intimate.

And then there's the food. If you make reservations ahead of time, dinner seating is available before the show. We ordered a bottle of Cabernet and the best-tasting lasagna we've ever had, topped with two kinds of sauces (alfredo and red), Italian sausage, and a slab of cornbread. Dessert was a chocolate remoulade and whipped cream. The servings were huge--we could have easily split one serving of the lasagna. The woman next to me ordered a salad, and I swear it came in a mixing bowl. lol



We saw one of my favorite bands, Rustic Overtones. For my out of state (and out of the country) friends who aren't familiar with them, this is a band you have to check out!! For readers who are fans, the set list went like this:

Arizona (new)
(According to Jon, Tony broke his ankle while playing a very focused game of frisbee, and is on crutches. So Jon is temporarily playing high hat along with the bass.)
Carsick
Combustible
History Crush
C'mon
Gas on Skin
Sugarcoat
(In between these two songs, during a moment of silence, a deep male voice yelled, "I WANT TO PARTY WITH YOU!!!" Dave looked up and said, "Um, that was NOT a hot chick." lol)
Crash Landing
Smallest Spark (new) (totally rocked the house, especially with the added strings)
Troublesome
Rock Like War
Hardest Way Possible
Oxygen
The Blues (new)
(Dave had problems with his acoustic guitar at this point, and as he and Jon conversed we heard Dave say, "I can't do it without a strap on", which pretty much cracked everyone up, including everyone on stage.)
Light at the End
(Apparently, Tony fell down the stairs on his way off the stage and is carried out to his drums by Jim's brother for the last song...)
Feast or Famine
(Tyler, the keyboardist standing in for Nigel, played a mean guitar on this one!)

Just a side note: During Gas on Skin, Dave was having issues with the plug on his guitar. I know that musicians hate it when that happens, but I gotta say, it's amazing to watch. He was 1. signaling the sound guys 2. picking up and different guitar and tuning it while still wearing the original, and 3. periodically checking the original to see if it was working yet, all without missing a beat or screwing up the lyrics of the song. If you'd closed your eyes and just listened, you'd never know he was having issues with an instrument.

Anyway, excellent night, excellent show, and by far my favorite venue. A couple o' pics...and a very blurry one of the strings...





(Tyler taking the guitar during Feast)




(Jon and the high hat)



(Strings...sorry about the blur)


For more info about the Stone Mountain Arts Center (and a better photo of the stage), check out this article: Boston.com and Stone Mountain's website. There are some great shows coming up this year!

Peripheral Revision

I thought writing a book would be easy. Okay, maybe not easy. Mildly challenging, but definitely doable. I figured that by the end of my run with the Stonecoast MFA program, I'd have a completed manuscript.

Well, I'm due to graduate on July 18th, and the completed manuscript isn't happening. I'm so bummed out. I have a lot, and what I have is fine. It meets the requirements for graduation. But "fine" wasn't what I was aiming for.

I began with the idea that I was writing about my daughter's adoption from Russia. Pretty cut and dry, right? And I viewed the manuscript through this lens the entire time I was writing it. But there were many things that fit somewhere else, in some other way--and the themes kept reappearing. Now, at the very end of it all, I realize that it's because the book wants to be about something else. The adoption is in there and belongs in there, but it's not the "big story".

So I've basically spent the last two years writing around something that's hanging in the shadows, something I've been afraid to go after. Argh.

I will graduate, and I'll have my MFA, but it doesn't carry the feeling of accomplishment I thought it would. I still have miles to go... :/

Time Marches On...

So, I just turned 38. Gawd, that sounds so mature. I keep waiting to feel grown-up, but it's just not happening. I can't say I'm stressing about my age, though, I'm actually looking forward to my forties. My mom and aunts are older than that and still look pretty young, so pffft. Bring it on. :)

My friend Marcy and I spent a beautiful day in Boston yesterday for my birthday. Cheesecake Factory, shopping, laughing. I love Marcy...not only is she gorgeous, but she's truly a wonderful person. We had such a great day.

In other news, things with the pup are going well. Actually, better than that. I'm totally, completely smitten. She is by my side all the time. I didn't know I could love an animal so much. Her name is Moxie, and here she is!

She's been home for about a month now, and weighs about 5 pounds. She's a total snuggler and loves to be loved. And she's a genius. When she feels nature calling, she stands at the front door and looks at me like, "Well? Are you gonna open it?" She is mastering the English language like a champ, and understands "sit" and "come" and "treat" and "bed" and "no". I've been walking her twice a day, and that's enough to keep her pretty mellow, although she still does daffy puppy things like chase her tail and chase the cat (she runs so fast she slips on the floor and crashes into the walls). She makes me laugh all the time. Now, if only I can get her to stop stealing things and running through the house with them (like dirty socks and underwear, and tissues from the bathroom trashcan), we'll be golden. I've also started a photo collection called "Moxie: Things I Like to Eat Which Require Intervention", which you can see on my Facebook page. I'm forever taking things away from her--the dog likes to put EVERYTHING in her mouth (as most highly intelligent babies do).

Our official puppy school starts May 15th. I'm pretty positive she'll be in the "gifted" classes. ;)

Puppyface Head

I just had to share this...Debbie, the breeder at Starlo's, sent us an 8 week pic of our pup.





I can't freaking wait for her to come home...hubby's picking her up on Easter weekend!

When You Reach Into Your Pockets, Reach Down Further Than the Seams*

Whoa. It's Monday. The Monday after the vernal equinox, in fact. I just have to say vernal. It's such a great word. I know its a derivative of Latin and such, but when I hear vernal, my little brain does this:


and it makes me smile, just a tiny bit, inside. For the rest of my life, the first day of spring will give me flashes of Ernest P. Worrell. I can't help it. Know what I mean, Vern?


Anyway, I do love this yearly vernal milestone, mostly because for the first two weeks of March I'm typically a depressed, cranky, doughy ball of goo. Winters are long stretches for me. Mid-March is usually the beginning of a reawakening, this year being no exception.


In the winter, the sun always seems to be just below the reach of the visor in my car, blinding me no matter what time of day it is. It hangs in my line of vision if I'm out for a walk-- dangles, actually--as though it doesn't have the chutzpah to make it any higher. It goes to bed early for months. Before dinner. It's a depressed sun. The mood is contagious, and brings everything in me to a halt. I am not a hearty woman. Cold is my nemesis. It hurts my fingers and toes and makes my nose ooze and my lungs burn. I spend months making nose prints on the living room windows like a dog, waiting for the air to warm up enough so that it won't feel like Mother Nature is taking a belt sander to my face.

I thought I was cool, though. I thought I'd made it through unscathed this year. Pasty, but fairly well-adjusted. But I was with a friend last weekend in Boston (on the very day of the vernal equinox), and as we walked back from stuffing ourselves silly at the Cheesecake Factory we passed a man standing in the cold asking for change. We didn't give him any. I had a pocketful of dollar bills, and for some reason I just ignored him (never looked at his face!) and kept walking. I don't know what thought flashed in my head when I heard him asking for spare change. But I think my general feeling, in that few seconds, was that I didn't want someone to take advantage of me. (Huh?)

We passed, and he was lost in the crowd. Now, it weighs on me, how I didn't look at his face, how I kept my fist curled around the bills in my pocket. Maybe I carry things too heavily, but...I don't know. I've spent a lot of time reading about how we are all connected, how living with intention and with an open heart can change the world, how showing kindness to others taps you into something greater than your physical self. Ignoring him went against everything I believe, and I did it anyway.

It was a little jolt for me, and I realize that now is the perfect time for some spring cleaning. I will open my windows. I'll start thinking about my garden. I'll repair things that are broken, clean things that are dirty, mend things that have unraveled. The first day of spring is my New Year's Day.


Happy spring, everyone.




*lyric from "Long Division", by Rustic Overtones