That’s your color

My sister poked her head through the door and caught me picking sweaters. “Wear the blue,” she said, “that’s your color.”

She strutted her way into the bathroom and I picked up the yellow sweater and pulled it over my head. I fluffed my hair and shouldered my bag. In the kitchen, I grabbed a granola bar and a juice box. My mom glanced at me over her coffee cup. Her eyes were bloodshot and she wasn’t about to move quickly.

“You look like crap in yellow,” mom muttered. I answered by banging out the back door and running across the street to my ride with Jaime.

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Video Cam

It’s a video cam world. Video of your kid’s daycare class, video of busy intersections, video of ATM machines, video of celebrities caught being less than perfect.

Like many things in the modern world, video cams are both a blessing and a curse. My favorite video cam was of an eagle’s nest.

You could watch the newly hatched eagles grow, see the parents come and go with food for the babies. The young eagles learned to move around, stretch their wings, waited while new feathers grew in, waited while their dinner order was being delivered.

My least favorite video . . .

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My best friend

There are a lot of people you do things with–go to lunch, shop, hike, see a movie–that fit into the category of friends but who may pass in and out of your life like ripples.

The rare person who is deeply connected to you no matter what happens is more like an ocean current than a ripple. My best friend is a long way from me and going through a cycle of hard times that would devastate most people. Yet . . .

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Maze

playground maze

Flying, hopping, walking backwards through the maze, Lakesha didn’t realize that she was experiencing something with the lingoistic name kinesthetic learning. She was having fun.

Playing with paint in art class, creating big examples of the ABCs with colorful illustrations was another kinesthetic experience that Lakesha enjoyed and learned from.

But sitting still in reading group was bad, awful, terrible, and yukky. She couldn’t wait for it to be over and never could read the words the teacher put in front of . . .

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Rhubarb Sky

Mark crawled into the hammock beside me, snuggling up. It was time. I turned to look at him. Red and orange streaks of a sunset rhubarb sky behind him made his green eyes seem forbiddingly open and trusting.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

Mark lurched up, tipping us out of the hammock onto the pine-needle strewn earth. We both ignored the spill and stood, Mark sputtering, “What? Leaving? What do you mean?” . . .

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Freedom Writers

I’m a sucker for an inspirational educator movie, and Freedom Writer is that and more. My chief comment is, “go see it.”

There were some unusual plot twists that made the story even more interesting and compelling. All the actors were great (can Hillary Swank win three Oscars in a row?) but the burned out department head played by Imelda Staunton was a truly great performance.

I was aware that the focus was very narrowed down to make it fit into a movie, but . . .

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The roof

All morning long men climbed up and down the ladder to the roof. Robbie watched from the window because mommie wouldn’t let him go outside. They banged and banged over his head with a fabulous mix of strange noises.

Now the men were gone to something called lunch break. Mommie was upstairs changing Maggie’s clothes. The ladder waited quietly outside the window. Robbie twisted open the big door and headed toward the ladder . . .

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Crazy Weather

Our crazy weather is on everyone’s mind these days. It’s too cold in a warm place, too hot in a cold place, too dry in a wet place, too wet in a dry place.

We keep waiting for some big important person like the President of the US or the head of a major car company to come along and do something that will change the situation. They ain’t doin’ it, and that’s a fact.

That means we have to do it. We have to change. We have to be the change we wish to see in the world. We have to . . .

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The Eighth Day

It’s the eighth day of the new year. How are your New Year’s Resolutions holding up?

My New Year’s Resolutions are doing fine, thanks for asking. Want to know why? Because I never make any. Oh, I resolve to do things on a regular basis. Every morning when I weigh myself I resolve to lose weight. Why bother to make a resolution on the occasion of the new year when I make and break it daily?

Tennis great Martina Navratilova said the other day on Ellen that she resolved at the age of 8 to win at Wimbledon. She said to break your goals down into small, slowly reachable steps. Okay: one less Dove chocolate today. . .

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Morning coffee

Shelley glomped a dollop of milk in her morning coffee and opened the blinds at the kitchen window. She smiled at her good luck in catching the painted oranges and reds that colored the sky before sunrise. Raising her arms in a long stretch, she was actually pleased to be up before dawn, despite what she was preparing to do.

She tried to force her mind to hold on to the sunrise for just a few more seconds, but it was too late. Her thoughts had already turned to . . .

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