Continuation5 Her momma makes it better
“So you're in dad's room," she whispered,
like a villain about to get its victim. "Stay right there, would
you." With her mother in this corner of the house, she could gain
access to the basement stairs and make her way up to the kitchen. But
what would she do once she got there? Would she brigade her mother once
again for the Robert Redford recipe? Would she be locked up in another
room of the house? Out of sight and out of mind, by her mother, who was
most likely calling sponsors for the Cub Scout fundraiser. She didn't
have time to figure out her next position. She made her way up the
stairs, hoping to gain access to the kitchen where her mother left her.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Continuation4 of Her Mamma Makes it Better
Continuation4 of Her Mamma Makes it Better
"But Ma-I'm going to need the recipe to Robert Redford." She accented the D's in Redford, pursing her lips at the end hoping to get her mother's attention in her newest interest in Robert Redford, although she had no idea who he was.
Getting inside the home didn't make her worry. Her mother would be upset with we she found out that Huffy went through the window well in order to get inside. She might even take a wooden spatula to Huffy's behind, for not telling her the screen was broken in the first place, so Huffy sat down on the basement floor her knees arched up and her hands wrapped around them, listening to the sounds upstairs. She could pinpoint the exact room her mother was in, if she could hear the sound of feet moving. If she'd move around a bit more. She thought. "There!" she said excitedly to no one, looking up at the ceiling's left floor board. The floor board sat four feet below her dad's tool table, the one with the red tool set and his assorted containers of nuts and bolts, drill sets and other gadgets Huffy had no use for.
"But Ma-I'm going to need the recipe to Robert Redford." She accented the D's in Redford, pursing her lips at the end hoping to get her mother's attention in her newest interest in Robert Redford, although she had no idea who he was.
Getting inside the home didn't make her worry. Her mother would be upset with we she found out that Huffy went through the window well in order to get inside. She might even take a wooden spatula to Huffy's behind, for not telling her the screen was broken in the first place, so Huffy sat down on the basement floor her knees arched up and her hands wrapped around them, listening to the sounds upstairs. She could pinpoint the exact room her mother was in, if she could hear the sound of feet moving. If she'd move around a bit more. She thought. "There!" she said excitedly to no one, looking up at the ceiling's left floor board. The floor board sat four feet below her dad's tool table, the one with the red tool set and his assorted containers of nuts and bolts, drill sets and other gadgets Huffy had no use for.
Continuation3 of Her Mamma Makes it Better
Continuation3 of Her Mamma Makes it Better
“Mom, I need that recipe.” Huffy states while stammering
her feet. She takes a piece of hair in her mouth and yells once again “Mom, I need
that recipe.” Her mother balances the wireless phone on her shoulder,
pushing her daughter away, in-gloving her face with her right hand, while pushing her inside the door way, locking her inside the kitchen. Her
mother’s on the phone with an egg yolk shampoo company to see if they’ll sponsor
a few products for her son’s cub scout fund
raiser. Being behind the locked door doesn't stop Huffy, from continuing
her mantra, "I need that recipe, I need that recipe." She bangs
the door viciously rattling the wood against the door frames. "Mom,
I know you hear me! I need that recipe." Her mother's fast pace decision
making is not lost on Huffy who knocks on the door three times before
crossing the kitchen in order to access to the door that leads to the
backyard. She runs across the backyard's deck, slowly making her way
to the side of the house, jumping up to look through several of the living room
windows to capture what she hopes will be her mother in the living room. She's
not here. She thinks to herself.
She looks up at the blue awning observing it for the first time, trying to
think of an idea to gain access to the area of the house where her mother is.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Teaching-Cooking with Julia
for the best loved food in the world, making you want to jump on the treadmill just for the hundreds of calories that you allowed yourself to inhale,
That summer would be filled with half a dozen routines
2 hours of exercise a day
2 hours of reading a book
2 hours of writing my book
2 hours of preparing materials for the kids
2 hours of learning Arabic
2 hours of arts and crafts
beading
painting projects
collages
crocheting
making projects on my wall
national Geo collages
going to book clubs
going to Islamic events
going to visit people out of state
planning to paint art for the window chimes
painting art projects for my nieces
collecting insistent pictures
connecting to the student websites
collecting plays for the students to read
finding hundreds of books to read to read on Barnes and Noble
planning hundreds of community events to go to: halaqas, poetry slams, book fairs, craft things,Isna, planning events with my family barbeque's, random places to take pictures at, places to go to read books
volunteering at the library, at schools, at camping places, volunteering at humane societies
nephews sports events
scrap booking for my journal
dance workouts to go to in the morning
sports teams
visiting friends:Leda's house, nadar, Vila, Christie, Meta's, Merry's house, hanging out with Jim
baking and baking with frosting
shortbread houses
cleaning projects in the house
collecting music
collecting movies from the library,
having outfits set out everyday, an 8 hour plan everyday
money planned out an expense plan, planned out
getting ideas of things to do from classroom ideas like origami, and tangible ideas
trading TV sitcoms with Christie
other popular sitcoms
Friday, August 22, 2014
Taekwando at Parnassus school
 | |
Book Ideas
- My book IDEAS
HIGH SCHOOL EXP
CULTURAL GET TOGETHERS
WRITING FOR THE NEWSPAPER
LEARNING LANGUAGE
ARABIC IN APT
HMONG AT HOME
SOMALI IN MY OWN APT
SPANISH AT SCHOOL
TIBETAN AT WORK
GOING TO ALL PUBLIC SCHOOLS-AND THE DIVERSITY
TEACHING IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS
BEING THE GIRL WHO HAS BEEN EVERYWHERE
OHIO
TEXAS
SOUTH MPLS
WALKING DOWNTOWN
PEOPLE RECOGNIZING YOU
CALIFORNIA
DULUTH
GETTING IDEAS AND RUNNING WITH THEM
EATING THE FOOD
TAMALES WITH KENIA DURING X-MAS
INJERA DURING ORTHODOX X-MAS AND ETHIOPIAN TEA
RAMADAN WITH THE MORRACCAN FAMILY
HMONG WEDDING FOOD
COOKING AT MY OWN APT WITH MAI
RAMADAN WITH SOMALI FAMILY
BAD PIZZA WITH THE RIZZI
RESTAURANTS
VIETNAMESE WITH KENNY
THIRD WHEEL DATE WITH NANCY
THIRD WHEEL WITH KENIA
DANCING AT PARTIES
GUAYANESE ANNIVERSARY
SOMALIAN WEDDING
CLUB SCENE
TEACHING LIBERIANS TO DANCE
DANCING FOR H.S VS DANCING FOR STUDIO
COMPETITIVE DANCING
DANCING AT CARLOS WEDDING
DANCING AT MAI'S GRADUATION
DANCING AT THE PRIVATE STUDIO-HIP HOP
BREAKDANCING AND MARRYING A PAKISTANI
Music/Ireland
Shriner's Hospital for Children
-I came from a hospital or where you meet young men from Ireland who speak wickedly about the many music concerts that they’ve attended.
Even in leg braces that puncture the inner bone. You could picture the “pubs” just by, the way he wonderfully spoke about them.
Unfortunately besides all the pizza brigades and late night roaming around the hospital, the only real fun I would ever find is just barely listening to him and a young Shiners activities counselor speak about going to the concerts, her hair shaved bald, head banging out of face out of mind.
You’ll find tat their wiliness to go into a mosh pit is ever more great than a Vietnamese young man who is just getting his death metal group off the ground. His first c.d. published called Cannibal Corpse, or is that the band for which I came to attend for the very first time at First Avenue, semi interest in death metal begins in 11th grade, where for five hours at a time you get to see the head bangers who purposely grew their hair out, including Kenny. I left him there after one hour, my faith told me that this place wasn’t a great one to begin a life of hard drinking or knocking my brains out with all the head-banging. My death metal friend could
Shriner's Hospital for Children
-I came from a hospital or where you meet young men from Ireland who speak wickedly about the many music concerts that they’ve attended.
Even in leg braces that puncture the inner bone. You could picture the “pubs” just by, the way he wonderfully spoke about them.
Unfortunately besides all the pizza brigades and late night roaming around the hospital, the only real fun I would ever find is just barely listening to him and a young Shiners activities counselor speak about going to the concerts, her hair shaved bald, head banging out of face out of mind.
You’ll find tat their wiliness to go into a mosh pit is ever more great than a Vietnamese young man who is just getting his death metal group off the ground. His first c.d. published called Cannibal Corpse, or is that the band for which I came to attend for the very first time at First Avenue, semi interest in death metal begins in 11th grade, where for five hours at a time you get to see the head bangers who purposely grew their hair out, including Kenny. I left him there after one hour, my faith told me that this place wasn’t a great one to begin a life of hard drinking or knocking my brains out with all the head-banging. My death metal friend could
Thursday, August 21, 2014
journal
The instructor kept saying things like "look how strong your bodies are "amazing!"
The dance songs seem to bounce in your head, catch the rythm says the instrutor, the rhythm in particular is this low tone "sexy body, chic..." something along those lines. You'd listen and you can feel the song, and it seems to push you.
You think of all the strategies that might just enable you to continue the aerobics class, although you feel a pull in your knee joints, as if your on the bike, you simply slow down, and walk it off. Aerobics is a different story, but I believe the greatest time at the gym has to be mondays and thursday nights, when it pure showing off...
Even the other day one instructor mentioned biking around and getting a sun burn, in the late afternoon absolutely incredible considering the whether in Minnesota.
teaching at Al-Amal-owl moon
that year teaching at al amal consisted of a lot of things but some of the most memorable moments had to be the times, when I wrote or read with the students, "owl moon" having the students imagine a windy stormy storm ship or life in ethiopia, reminding them to eat all of their food as kids in haiti barely have any food, or writing personal narratives and having them share them, or having a group of boys sitting in thier kamiz on a stariwell greet you and say hi because they knew you were a teacher, or the numerous foundraisers, or the numerous staff meetings, and getting hugs from memoona at lunch time, or sitting in "The lab" in order that me or the Arabic teacher could learn how to put a gradebook together. or walking throughout the hallways during class sessions and seeing all the different teachers deliver different lessons and being able to sit in on those lessons as you walked by, or remembering what it would be like to teach at the highschool level. Having the kids see a hundered different fairy books, and books that they had earned, and feeling like my classroom smelled like a freshly cut forest as the kids ran around with antibacteria wipes too clean each individual desk. And then I would come home and dance in front of our kitchen buffet so that my reflection would bounce off the clear cabinet doors and I would think of the happiness of my grandma, and how similar we two were, the kindness of our hearts.
Later I would remind a student to be nicer to another student, as there heart was soft and I would see them shoulder to shoulder in friendship. the countless letters and amounts of forgiveness that would be showered in to one another.
That year I would do countless research, little girls would have dozens and dozens of books, and I would be excited for them, as I knew how smart they would be when they grew up and how much knowledge they would be able to share with one another, as they scored 52 out of 52 on a math test in one half an hour. or other students wandered in amazement how they had recieved so many books and were they rich?
I would be amazed by the brillance of having students create writers webs and sitting and reading over writing journals that contained letters to their mom and dad (baba) and they would do extra credit assignments and be excited when a parent brought in cupcakes for the whole class to share, and this would be quite the thrill blecause they would be quite the excitement
as I would wear skinny jeans under long abayos and collaspe in prayer every morning, before school started.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
In Memory Of Robin Williams" by Jim Meskimen
In Memory Of Robin Williams" by Jim Meskimen
They didn't burn all the pianos
When Fredrick Chopin died
Didn't outlaw oil paints
when Picasso took his final ride
No one put a stop to baseball
When Mickey Mantle's time was up
Or banned all Russian novels
When Tolstoy went belly up
On Shakespeare's death, nobody said
"Now hath arrived the day --
From this point hence let none dare
Put forth pen to write a play!"
We celebrate what's left
By the departed, it's our choice
Yet it does seem sacriligeous
To do Robin Williams' voice
A voice that was designed to soothe,
Soft, deep tones that resonate
And cascade gently outward
From behind a smiling face
A voice that could accelerate
To catch up with the mind
Like shifting into overdrive
To not get left behind
A voice that could change character
Like seconds on a clock
Or hijack nationalities
For a spin around the block
Shift age, shift viewpoint, shift I.Q.,
Whatever's not nailed down
Destroy, rebuild, destroy again,
A formidable clown
We'll hear this voice in future times
In reruns on TV,
It will occupy the world wide web
Live on, digitally
We'll hear its echoes come
From other mouths and other lips
In tributes and homages, and,
Like psychedelic trips
We'll think the owner's back again
With his familiar sound
But they'll all be imitations --
Just an audible rebound
New jokes aren't in the pipeline now,
Not that the well went dry --
But the jester who possessed this voice
Just chose to say goodbye
With the wealth of joy he left us
We should probably rejoice
But it's hard to grasp we lost the guy
Who used to have this voice.
(Reprinted with permission from Jim Meskimen.)
They didn't burn all the pianos
When Fredrick Chopin died
Didn't outlaw oil paints
when Picasso took his final ride
No one put a stop to baseball
When Mickey Mantle's time was up
Or banned all Russian novels
When Tolstoy went belly up
On Shakespeare's death, nobody said
"Now hath arrived the day --
From this point hence let none dare
Put forth pen to write a play!"
We celebrate what's left
By the departed, it's our choice
Yet it does seem sacriligeous
To do Robin Williams' voice
A voice that was designed to soothe,
Soft, deep tones that resonate
And cascade gently outward
From behind a smiling face
A voice that could accelerate
To catch up with the mind
Like shifting into overdrive
To not get left behind
A voice that could change character
Like seconds on a clock
Or hijack nationalities
For a spin around the block
Shift age, shift viewpoint, shift I.Q.,
Whatever's not nailed down
Destroy, rebuild, destroy again,
A formidable clown
We'll hear this voice in future times
In reruns on TV,
It will occupy the world wide web
Live on, digitally
We'll hear its echoes come
From other mouths and other lips
In tributes and homages, and,
Like psychedelic trips
We'll think the owner's back again
With his familiar sound
But they'll all be imitations --
Just an audible rebound
New jokes aren't in the pipeline now,
Not that the well went dry --
But the jester who possessed this voice
Just chose to say goodbye
With the wealth of joy he left us
We should probably rejoice
But it's hard to grasp we lost the guy
Who used to have this voice.
(Reprinted with permission from Jim Meskimen.)
Continuation of Her Mother makes it better
Continuation of Her Mother makes it better
The girl picked up her own
ball and thought of puke cake. Her mother made the best cake,everyone
knew that! So did the book club and her sister and her brothers who
smoothed the chocolate pudding whisks across their tongues during her mother's
final cake making steps. "Who wants to lick the cream cheese?"
Huffy was always first. "Can I lick the back as well?" "Let your brother,
you had your chance." Her mother's face was shifting towards the
bowls contents. She had already pressed the walnut crust to the pan,
baked it to three fifty and was adding the cream cheese with a clean spatula.
"I'll have you know that your grandma made this, the best."
She said, eyeing the Redford.
What's in this stuff anyway? Huff asks. Well, you know-the works," said Huffy's Mom. "Listen-Huff, I don't have a lot time today, I've got my groceries, you're brother's soccer again, a PTA meeting at four." "But Ma-I'm going to need the recipe to Robert Redford." She accented the D's in Redford, pursing her lips at the end hoping to get her mother's attention in her newest interest in Robert Redford, although she had no idea who he was.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Two minute Free Write
Two minute Free Free
Sitting down with Grandma Ida, her Grandma Ida pulls back the silver lid to the baking pan that holds her infamous peanut butter bars. She gazes at her grandaughter Huffy as she makes a choice. Grandma Ida had been fussing with the brown-tan braided rug and dusting the rotary phone before Huffy arrived but she settled herself now in the sling back chair reminiscent of the 70's era. She made one last adjustment to the green ceramic tray, replacing sugar frees with Werther Originals, Huffy's, father's favorite candy. Grandma Ida always placed the best candy for the day Huffy's father came to visit. The happiest day of Ida's life was when Huffy's father came to ask Grandpa for his daughter's hand in marriage. Her father returned from Nam in one piece which was more than she could say for the many other sons who widowed their daughter's within the first year of marriage. No bother, they were all patriots, but it freed her mind to think her daughter would have a child one day.
Sitting down with Grandma Ida, her Grandma Ida pulls back the silver lid to the baking pan that holds her infamous peanut butter bars. She gazes at her grandaughter Huffy as she makes a choice. Grandma Ida had been fussing with the brown-tan braided rug and dusting the rotary phone before Huffy arrived but she settled herself now in the sling back chair reminiscent of the 70's era. She made one last adjustment to the green ceramic tray, replacing sugar frees with Werther Originals, Huffy's, father's favorite candy. Grandma Ida always placed the best candy for the day Huffy's father came to visit. The happiest day of Ida's life was when Huffy's father came to ask Grandpa for his daughter's hand in marriage. Her father returned from Nam in one piece which was more than she could say for the many other sons who widowed their daughter's within the first year of marriage. No bother, they were all patriots, but it freed her mind to think her daughter would have a child one day.
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