Portrait in Linen

Writing
So the CNN publication opportunity was barely a blip on my CV radar. I might be able to eke out a credit on technicality, but it’s hardly substantial. Still, something about the coffee essay grabbed their attention, or they wouldn’t have contacted me in the first place. That’s something to feel good about.

(Note: The coffee article was not excerpted on the aired version nor the printed version of the story, but a fragment of a line can be found on the “Interactive” tab under “‘Ailina” (the six-letter version of the name).)

Haven’t gotten a ping on the parenting article submission, but that may be on account I sent it to the editor’s outdated email address. Tried again today, so hopefully, I’ll hear something soon. If not, I’ve got a few more local publications that accept unsolicited queries. Will go to Plan B in a couple weeks if nothing pans out.

What to work on in the meantime? I promised myself I’d write a parenting article on the virtues of camping (natural disasters aside), but the inspiration just isn’t there. I’m sure I could throw something together, but I’m almost certain it wouldn’t have the heart it should have.

I think the lack of catharsis over the past two weeks has taken its toll, and now I’ve got to fight my way back to maintenance mode. I’m feeling a thousand different things at once–mostly panic and overwhelm. So much to do, so much to catch up on, so far behind. I don’t even know where to begin.

I can’t concentrate at all, much less focus enough to produce something tight and distilled. I tried a writing exercise last night, and what came out was fragmented, weak, and sentimental. Guess if that’s the way I’m feeling, that’s what I’ll produce.

But I have no time to be fragmented, weak, and sentimental. I’m under the gun, in more ways than one.

—

Karate Training

I haven’t been to class in two weeks. The emergency exit, camping trip, and 4th of July weekend took me out of town for the duration. Terrible timing, with belt testing only weeks away. After such a pause in training, returning to class is like starting over from the beginning. Again. I feel so bad about that.

I berate myself for my lack of consistency, but the practical side of me stands up for the fact I AM a stay-at-home mom raising five kids, and for two weeks out of every month, the raising is done by me alone. They are the priority; I wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t apologize for my responsibilities, but I do feel responsible for my martial arts attendance and performance. I must be able to offer some commitment, and some consistency in that, if not for the sake of my training, then at least for the sake of my instructors and out of consideration for the other students who must endure review on account of me.

I can’t help the necessary absences, but I can do my best to compensate. I’ve decided I’m going to stay for all the second classes from now until test time. I already know I won’t be able to endure the physical demands of two back-to-back hours of training three times a week, but I’ll do everything short of falling out onto the floor. I’ll just have to tell the instructors–I’ll do what I can until I start to feel like I’m about to hurl my lunch. If it comes to that, I’ll hit the bench and watch.

That’s 4.5 weeks to prepare. Is that enough time for me to pull it together? It will have to be.

—

Karate Research

I suspect I’ll be shelving the pursuit of Dad’s history until after the D.C. trip in September. Just no way around it.
But now is the perfect time to step up my studies of Shotokan. Master Mikami will be the special instructor at the dōjō training camp in August, and I definitely want to have his history and lineage solidified in my head well before I meet him for the first time. He will be, after all, the first Shotokan master I will meet in person, and I definitely want to have a relatively complete frame of reference for his introduction.

This means I need to finish Funakoshi’s Karate-Dō. I’ve also purchased three books in a series of titles written by Master Nakayama (Funakoshi’s successor). It’s crucial I get through these well before test time, too, since the content comprises everything I need to know for the test, and then some.

—

‘Ōlelo Hawai’i

Hawaiian language studies will continue without a hitch. Noe (study partner) and I have transitioned from the Ka Lei Ha’aheo to the Nā Kai ‘Ewalu text.  Now that we have an established foundation, we can move forward into more complex points of grammar.  Conversation practice is consistent and progressive.  Lots of audio resources to help with pronunciation and vocal pacing.  Maika’i kō māua ha’awina.  Imua!
—

Vacation Planning

So this will be the focus of any spare time I may have over the next two months.  D.C. trip is right around the corner.  Date of Departure is September 16th.  Nine days of travel, multiple states, multiple destinations.

I believe the basic itinerary is just about finalized.  Still needs a few more tweaks, but it’s established.

Still have to book hotels, print maps, purchase tickets and/or passes.  I’ll have to set some deadlines soon to keep me on target, or time will leak by, and our best-laid plans will fall to pieces before we ever have a chance to set them into motion.

—

Moi

I’d have to say self-image is pretty healthy lately.  Fatigue has plagued me, but it’s no wonder with braving the wilderness and all.

The sunshine did me well, after the initial sunburn and insect bites dissipated.  Only a couple other times in my life I’ve been this dark–three straight weeks at the beach in Hawai’i, and an entire summer camped out on Galveston shore.  I do love Vitamin D.

And as silly and juvenile as it may be, I indulged in a little vice I’ve coveted for a while now–colored contact lenses.  It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with my natural black eye color–”two muskadines in the buttermilk,” as Mama Lola used to say of me when I was a baby.  I’m perfectly happy with my eyes, though at times, they do make me appear tragic and forlorn.

It’s just that lighter colors give my face a completely different look.  “Honey” looks warm and summery, brings out the deep auburn highlights I paid for (again) and rounds out the gold tones in my hair and skin.  “Hazel” goes great with the emerald greens I like to wear.  Not so sure about “gray,” but I theorize it may make the pinks and lavenders a little more friendly on me.

I think what sealed the deal, though, was the girls when they said, “Hmm…those contacts make you look younger.”  That was enough to quash any misgivings I may have had about accessorizing with something so (literally) superficial.

And my head’s on straight.  That’s all I have to say about that.

—

Homeschooling

…is in full informal mode.  Of course we continue our exploration of American History in preparation for the trip to the Capitol.  The next two weeks, however, will be devoted to refreshing on Entomology.  Next field trip is to the Audubon Insectarium in New Orleans.  The outing will be so much more fulfilling if the kids’ heads are filled with bugs and all their fascinating features.

Priss has just a few more weeks of summer voice class.  The others chose swimming lessons, but in order to save for the D.C. trip, we decided to just buy another pool to replace the last one that finally gave out last summer.  Funny that a pool purchase would be more economical than three swimming tuitions, but that’s the way it worked out.  Besides, with proper maintenance, the home pool will last exponentially longer than a six-week session, and the whole family can swim every day throughout the entire summer if we so choose.

They’ve already chosen their fall activities, too.

• Priss - voice
• Bunny - gymnastics
• Moe - acting
• Squeak - piano

Not sure what Rocky wants to do, but I’m sure he’ll tell me when he returns from Fla.

It’s great for them to be involved in extracurriculars, but that does put a cramp on travel.  I think Miner and I both have come to agree travel is the very best experience and education we can offer the kids.  There’s nothing keeping us from providing that, so…Why not?

But I’m too tired to begin an in-depth analysis of all that tonight.  More emails to reply to, have to catch up on the night’s participation at the writing group.  And I still haven’t eaten anything for supper.

Just now getting the engine of routine humming to life again. We returned late Sunday night from the far-flung dimension of camping at *Black Bone Bend; stumbled around for two days in a fatigued, arthritic, disoriented daze; and only today found ourselves with the wherewithal to begin household reconstruction. Calls and emails have gone unanswered, the list of errands compounds, and the week slips away down the drain of urgency and prioritization.

Responsibility eclipses the sweet little luxuries that normally provide the much-needed catharsis to keep my shoulder to the grind; no time for study, training, drawing, writing, or research. But I can’t complain. A few days submersed in the silence and…well…nature of nature are an expensive, yet highly effective treatment for boiling blood-pressure. A natural sedative. It’s worth it.

—

The bane of last month’s camping trip was untimely digestive ailments. This time, the challenge was external and entirely beyond our control. Three days of showers and thunderstorms.

We knew the forecast well ahead of time. We took note of the time frames, and we decided to brave it anyway. An hour or two of rain just wasn’t enough to cancel the trip.

So, we all piled into the van and the truck–Miner, me, the girls, and the dog along with food and supplies for six people for three days. Little did we know that “thunderstorms” meant just that–a thundering STORM.

—

Day 1: Rained Out

The front muscled its way in from behind the trees, barreled in over the creek and right away took to pounding the tent, the mess shelter, the outhouse. Tarps and hanging clothes whipped this way and that on their cords. Everything not weighted down rolled away like litter tumbleweeds. And the cold wind blew through our skin right to our bones.

Pitiful. The rain dumped down by the bucketful, and we huddled together under the 10′-by-10′ shelter (no walls) shivering, chattering teeth, lips and fingernails withered and blue. When we couldn’t stand it anymore, Miner grabbed some sopping branches from the immediate area, and the girls and I tried to take our minds off the cold by breaking long sticks into small sticks for kindling.

An hour later, Miner had conjured a tiny fire in our dripping, makeshift kitchen. We pulled our chairs around as closely as we could and stuck our wrinkled feet all but right in the embers. Once warm, we were able to tolerate the next slow, heavy hour it took for the storm to pass.

In the aftermath, we complained for ten minutes about the felled outhouse, then laughed for the rest of the day as we made solid plans for how we might better deal with the expected storm the next day.

—

Day 2: Rained In

Wiser than the day before, we made sure all the supplies were well water-proofed and stored. Plenty of kindling and firewood, though we wouldn’t need it during the rain.

The family plan called for immediate “in-vacuation”–that is, everyone to the tent the second the first raindrop falls from the sky. That’s exactly what we did. Zipped ourselves up in our 10-person tent, cuddled up on our air mattresses, snacks and drinks handy for munching (because we remembered to bring the food bag with us).

I don’t know how long we “hunkered down,” but it didn’t seem like all that long. The girls entertained themselves with their camping journals, and Miner and I either chatted or slept, or maybe both intermittently.

We passed the rest of the day searching for petrified wood, which we found in great abundance, and samples were more than twice as large as the ones we found at “Arrowhead Shoals” many months ago.

Explored a good quarter-mile downstream and found a beautiful white-sand “swimming hole” (in the classic sense of the word); spent at least an hour thrashing around there, and sizzling our backsides under the Louisiana sun (burns, blisters…won’t ever neglect ourselves like that again).

Then, ended the night with a steaming cup of campfire coffee, making jokes about fictitious constellations, and speculating about the ulterior motives of fireflies. Never slept better.

—

Day 3: Day of “Departure”

“Just a little bit longer….”

That was me, begging for a little more time to dig around in the creek bed for the next larger shard of petrified wood. Miner graciously relented, and “a little bit longer” turned into two hours past the established departure time. Oh, the family paid dearly for it.

The third storm put the first to shame–like the third Billy Goat Gruff, only with the troll’s temper.

The minute the clouds began swirling, we rushed the kids up to the van so at least they would stay warm and dry.

At first, the drizzling wasn’t so bad. We were able to get most of the supplies packed and loaded into the vehicles. Really, the only things left to take care of were the tent and the outhouse. If we worked fast enough, we reasoned, we could get it all folded and bagged by the time the bottom dropped out.

Not so.

Drizzles and drips…ha. God turned on the faucet. It was a “gully-washer.” Ever tried breaking down a tent in the rain? folding it up? stuffing it in the bag? It can’t be done. If the wind is catching at the corners, if water and sand simply collect and slosh around in the creases and crevasses, if the rain in your eyes and up your nose prevents you from seeing what you’re doing. No such thing as “folding” anything in the rain.

We ended up wadding the whole thing up (tarp included) into a big, sloshy ball; dragging it up to the truck; and tossing it into the back. Same with the outhouse. It was all we could do. “We’ll clean it off and dry it out at home.”

So, with all our belongings ready to go, kids anxious to get on the road home, and all starving for a hot meal (and a fresh cup of coffee for me), we cranked up the engines, put them in gear, and…

…didn’t move. The wheels spun a little. Then a little more. Then a lot. The next thing we knew, the van was a foot deep in what we call “gumbo” down here.

That’s right. STUCK.

Miner and I fought with the tires for over an hour. We tried quite a few creative ideas: shoveling, laying down rotted wood and leaves over the mud to (theoretically) give the tires some kind of traction, paving the rut with landscaping bricks we happened to have in the trunk from the last trip to Lowe’s.

None of that worked. We gave up at 5:30 PM, reasoning we really couldn’t do much with the few hours of daylight left. Besides, the kids were miserable, and family headquarters were less than half an hour away.

The executive decision was to drive to Mother Refiner’s for the night to regroup. At least then the kids could get a hot bath, a hot meal, and a good night’s sleep. Then, Miner and I would hit it again the next morning, bright and early, with a renewed sense of creativity and optimism.

—

Day 4: Triumph

From Lowe’s:

• three heavy duty towing chains (2,000+ ton workload)
• two D-links
• two shackles
• one come-along

The girls stayed back at Mother Refiner’s while Miner and I set out back into the woods. We took our tim