Swingin' with Imagination

Last week Chantel and I took the boys and drove to Oak Ridge, Tennessee to visit my nieces and nephews. The first day Owen and I sat outside on the glider swing and played his favorite game--imagination. Right now we're on a story about a boy named Owen who has a pet rat, Scabbers, (he does in real life) but this rat can talk. Sometimes Owen objects to his picture being taken, but this time he didn't, probably because I held the camera at arm's length and kept snapping away, while playing imagination the whole time. That's why most of the pictures aren't centered, but they capture the expressions on his sweet face.

Owen demonstrating how his rat eats corn on the cob.

Demonstrating how Scabbers 'smells' danger.

My favorite picture.

Fantasy

Owen has the capability of going into "imagination mode" and staying there for hours. The past few days I've been to a ball with queens, kings and a very large fire-breathing but nice dragon named Scuff-scuff (because that's the sound he makes when he scratches on the door to get in, hmm, maybe some canine in his pedigree). I won the award for best dancer and Scuff-scuff presented me with a giant emerald from his cavern of jewels. In fact, he has so many jewels that he loaned them to the queen in order to cover her floor and make the castle appear more festive. Later, he used his fire-breathing capabilities to zap all the brown leaves on the queen's property--much faster than raking and bagging, don't you think?

I've also spent some time in the cellar (aka beneath my down comforter) hiding from several raging tornados which completely obliterated the house each time. But thank goodness our little dog was still alive protected by Scuff-scuff. And, of course, nothing can hurt Scuff-scuff. He stayed outside the cellar and fought the tornados single-handed, (or single-footed?).

When I wasn't in the cellar or at the ball, I was the giant evil toad who turns his enemies into mushrooms. He can be invisible and he's immune to electricity so no amount of zapping will do.

I also rode inside a magic spaceship whose people spend most of their time exploring caves and caverns and collecting specimens of rocks and jewels. The spaceship, too, can become invisible if necessary to get away from an enemy.

Then, alas, I became the magic witch doctor whose potion (ham and beans) cured Spaceman Spiff of his ailments inflicted by contact with aliens. He thought the beans tasted gross but the potion worked he came back for seconds on the ham.

Oh oh, I hear the wind raging again. Another tornado?? What are we going to do???

Dancer Dreams in Montana

Muscle memory. It's a fact. Having it is what makes it easy to ride a bicycle, or ice skate, or dance, after years of not doing so. Muscle memory doesn't fade--at least, not like regular memory. At least, mine hasn't seemed to. I've been taking a ballet class at Mills and I'm amazed at the moves my body remembers--from 30 years ago! I never want to stop doing this. I'm getting strong and discovering movement that I haven't done in years. I even see myself as a dancer--ok--visually maybe a stretch for now, but my dancer's body is still in there--somewhere. Dancing is in my future because it brings me such joy and such a connection with myself that I get in no other way.

Most people are aware that art and music are the first programs to be cut when schools are under budget. Well, now I hear some schools are also cutting PE--ok if you have active children. But what about the families whose children spend their free time in front of the television?? Scary.

I envision a piece of land--Montana maybe, or Idaho. Lots of sky and space, clean air and stars at night. A big, old house with high ceilings and a wrap around porch. A large flower and vegetable garden bursting with zinnias and marigolds and cosmos. A giant old barn, weathered but strong, and inside the barn (this is where it gets fun) daylight and an art studio with tables and easles and sinks and supplies; a dance studio with a wood floor and ballet barres and mirrors and a nice little bathroom, maybe even a remodeled loft for guests. And the best part: children and women of all ages (ok, men can come too if they want), everyone either contributing (talents or resources) or creating, and everyone growing.

This will not be a career move--I still plan to teach--but a way in which to contribute to my community and my family (read between the lines: Grammy wants to live near her family) and do the things I love at the same time. I already have an art teacher who will move to the area as soon as I give the word, and living near each other has long been a dream of my siblings and mine. The place is waiting. Can't wait to find it.