The Intersection 

Oriented

Well, I'm now oriented. It was nice, they gave me a huge binder (i love binders) and 3 books for new teachers. :) . Oh to be a truly new teacher again. The innocence, the hope, the fear ... nope. Wouldn't go back for the world. 3 of them yesterday were truly newbies and you could smell their anxiety when you came onto the 3rd floor. I have forgotten the excitment of filling out a W-4 for your first "real" job or how confusing health and life insurance can be.

I really did listen. Ok, I really TRIED to listen. Blah ... Blah ... Dress like you are a professional ... Blah ... Your insurance will kick in next Monday ... Blah ... Blah ... Blah ... Let's meet the board of directors and have some lunch.

"Hi, this is Joanna, sorry I missed your call - please leave me your name, number and a brief message and I will get back to you as soon as possible."

:)

I now have a phone.
I also have my new computer. Laptop. Rewritable CD burner and DVD player. Bad screen savers.
With my computer, I now have an email address. We can actually check them from ANYWHERE ... wasn't there a nasty, 5 year rumor about another system that was supposed to let me do that? Hmmmm ....
I also received "Joanna's 2005 - 2006 Calendar, Draft #1". Apparently, I am the only one working in ALL 6 districts. How special. I get my own calendar to work from. "Feel free to mark it up, move your holidays and give it back to me." Hmmm .... when should Christmas be?

Now that I am oriented, does this make me real again?

Bridge Pedal 2005!

Despite the crowd, the event was awesome. It was so much fun riding our bikes down the freeways and the bridges that are VERY SCARY to ride on normally.

We started at the Salmon Street Fountain and went first across the Hawthorne Bridge.






This is taken from the Ross Island Bridge.


This is looking from the Marquam Bridge at the Ross Island Bridge.

Nathan on the Marquam (I-5) Bridge!

You can see our house from here!


Nathan hanging out on the Burnside Bridge:


My absolute favorite was the Fremont (I-405) Bridge. It's the youngest and biggest of the Portland bridges. It's the big white one with the flags. Yeah, the really high one!


Looking North:

And Looking South:


When we woke up that 90 degree Sunday morning and looked out our windows, the cars were gone and instead was a traffic jam of bicycles. And when we were in it, it moved slow, yes, sometimes frustrating, but so much better than a traffic jam with motors. It's hard to demonize a person you're literally rubbing elbows with; who you can smell and whose hair keeps blowing in your face.

Now that I, the greatest wimp who ever lived, moved up on top of this crazy hill and pumped my way across all of the bridges in one day, I feel like I can do anything. :) Next year, Le Tour, and I'm going to get that Polka Dot Jersey, and I will be the Queen of the Hill, officially.

I'm Ready

Oh my ... I can not believe that I still have all those papers piled on my desk, waiting for me to organize them, waiting for my return this fall. Did I send the fall sports schedules to the printers? Did I turn in all my IEP's? ... oh wait. That's my OLD life - ha!

Ok, time for new stacks, new problems, new frustrations, new "where the hell do they keep that!?"'s ... new kids, new promise, new hope.

Excited, nervous, ready to vomit, ready to start ... start what?!

"How often should I see each kid?" ... "You're the expert, what do you feel would be right?"
"Any suggestions on how to organize each school / kid / issue?" ... "You're the pro, what do you feel would be the best?"
"How should I phrase my letters to everyone so I don't come across as bossy (what, ME, bossy? HA!)" ... "You're the smart one, however you feel best (but make sure I have a copy please)."

ACK.

ack.

Ok, I'm ready (I think ...)

Hebo

Yes. I love Hebo, Oregon. It's not cute on purpose. It's not cute at all. It's beautiful and trashy. It holds no pretensions, no flower boxes, no trendy coffee shops. No painfully white socks pulled all the way up and no couples with matching windbreakers.

I camped at Hebo Lake this last week. Me, Pixie and the quiet buzz of mosquitoes. Then Nathan came up with a load of camping supplies he splurged on. We have a freaking screen tent to put over the picnic table. We have store-bought hotdog sticks. We have a campfire loveseat. Now we shall camp all year 'round.

7/18/05, 4:45-5:05pm: 20-min. Story #1

"Slideshows always make me cry. You know, all of those beautiful moments... and then the music, augh!" She fans her already filling eyes with small, stiff, almost palsied motions. "Just thinking about it gets to me. All of those years..."

Cathie Jo is beautiful. As beautiful as she was in high school. Even these 20 years haven't touched her. She still smiles with accidental glamour and her lips, still full and stained to a natural polish. She is still small and straight. She still doesn't have volume control of her voice. Her words tumble over one another and the last phrase is always surprisingly loud and her nostrils still threaten the beginning of The Laugh. In moments, there is a certain widening. A small flash, and then smooth features.

It looks like she has mastered control over that, sadly. Maybe. Her nostrils tell me that if she forgot herself, just for a second, if something happened she weren't expecting, she would splatter the room with strangled, machine-gun-spray "ha-a-a-a-a's" that would sound like a desperate warning from Flipper. Then, a slow snort would swell, from the bottom of her soul, rising up her throat and tear from her nose. A snort's equivelant of howling at the moon. A terrible fight with a tissue. And finally silence, while Cathie's face would freeze with mute hysterics, only her nostrils dancing in and out and her cheeks blooming bright pink.

The Laugh was best served in a quiet library, rising from behind study carols. "Ha....a....a.....a-a-a-a-a-a.... and then the snort, causing the librarian to look up in alarm and the students rub their throats and swallow, before the sudden silence. Only I, and her contraband pet rat, Guinevere, depositing turds over our mess of homework and notes, could see the nostril dance and the blooming cheeks.

I look at her now. I want her to laugh more than anything. I want all of us, after these 20 years, to come back here and laugh our real laughs. At everything: our ideals in high school; our struggles; failures; our attempts; gains; losses... Life. I want us to circle around the fountain again, clasp hands again- not in perfect hope- not this time. Let's sing a different kind of uniting song. This time let us laugh.

This time let's hold onto each other's hands and laugh crazily because we all went on. Because we remember and don't remember. Because we are human and we are connected. And we have all cried in these last 20 years, lost, won, changed, rearranged. Let's laugh hard because life is short and the divisions we set up between us are ridiculous.

I am bored of this polite twitter. Laugh. For Real. Gimme your guts.

The lights dim. "Oh, here we GO!" (The "go" surprisingly loud.)

Cathie Jo picks through our old classmates and their children to slide down next to her husband. Her boy plunks naturally onto her lap. At the same time, her husbands arm winds up her spine to tickle her ear. I can't hear her laugh from back here, but she crinkles up her neck and tries to cram her shoulder into her ear canal. In turn, she brushes her nails up little Hiller's neck. He squeals. Then he sputters, snorts and convulses in fits of crazy delight.

We all laugh.

Cloudy McGee, The Wonder Bus

Okay, here she is, Cloudy McGee. It's parked at the coast right now, in a storage unit. I just drive to the beach (a lot easier in a real car, up all those hills and mountains), get in the bus and toodle up and down the coast. It has been awesome.It's all about writing and feeling quiet. Last trip I was into 20-minute stories. I'll post one or two.

I hope I can persuade some of you to start posting here. I'm here, and this time, YOU are late to the staff meeting. :)

1985-2005

This is me with my best friend (in high school and my college roomie) and high school English teacher, Tony Handrich. I saw him at my 20th reunion and pretty much recited every thing he's ever told me. He saw me, took a few minutes and then said, "Donkey Hotie!" and began to crack up. (That is the title of the book I went looking for when he suggested I read Don Quixote.) What are we remembered for? Everything and nothing at all.

Meet Me in the Intersection, by the Candy Store!

Welcome to our Blog!

This summer has been a blessed gift. It's been a long sigh.
I love my new house and all of the green around it.
I love getting up every morning and walking Pixie up and down Terwilliger.
I love the name "Terwilliger".
I've been to Pix Pattisserie,
Fuller's Diner, The Old Lair Hill Market Cafe,
and all of the usual haunts.
My hair is,
indeed,
blue and purple.
The summer tastes like Nehi Cream Soda.
And it's the colors of my hair.
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