In my teen years, when I was unable to sleep at night, I learned to flip my polarity. Tossing my pillow to the foot of my bed, I’d wrestle the covers into a warm nest and instantly fall into a deeply satisfying sleep. (Now I just take a pill.)

A similar principle applies when I’m stuck on what to write about. Usually, if I move to a different place: the deck, by the pond, in the keeping room, it helps. Autumn signals the impending end of writing in favorite outside spaces, but, a renewal of time by the wood stove.

Eggshells everywhere; walking on tender hooks. Where did that phrase come from? It’s part of my family lexicon. I hear grandmother, grandfather, mother, father, sister all using that phrase. And, without an explanation, I knew exactly what it meant. But whence is its origin?

What in the world is a “tender hook?” And why would one walk on it? Well, that’s easy, no one every really walks on eggshells either, but the image conveys an emotional tone, makes clear how the actors are behaving in the scene.

Tender hooks. Wherever it came from, it applies to our current global reality.

I didn’t know a thing about this breed when the notice came across Union’s e-mail; “Wanted, homes for male Betas.” Survivors of a lab project in an honors biology class, the fish were free. Checking it out, I was smitten by this one’s royal blue color, and immediately named him Streak.

Aggressive toward other males, Beta’s origin is Siam (Cambodia) where they live in the warm waters of rice paddies feeding on bugs, especially mosquitoes. Consequently Streak requires some protein in his diet (freeze-dried bloodworms anyone?) and it’s best to keep the water in his bowl close to 80 degrees.

Red-shafted Flicker; rolls off the tongue like a fricative. Could be a sassy phrase to put a person in his/her place. “You Red-shafted flicker you! Ha!” Could be a code name for some communist movie, or maybe the latest weapons designed for youngsters to battle imaginary invaders from outer space.

Actually, it’s a member of the woodpecker family, and it visited our deck yesterday evening, and again this morning. A large bird, fully twelve inches long, it held tight while swinging off-kilter on the feeder grate. Warily it watched, then plunged into the suet with its three inch beak.

Nastiness on the air. Unable to gain credence with the Republican platform, McCain/Palin et. al., are on the attack: “,,,imperfect enough to pal around with a domestic terrorist...” Guilt by association, the only card they’ve got. McCain & company change the topic from real issues to “character, judgment and values.”

Dredging the waters for old, cold bones that never were buried, Palin invokes hell fire to the base. Even with a tangential connection, who gives a shit? Do I need to know how many hot bones burrowed into her? More than she’ll claim. Out of touch and out of time.

Three o’clock a.m. and my mind begins to whir. Shit. Need to sleep, drift into then out and finally realize I am asleep. When the alarm sounds I’m way too tired and decide to take a health day. Though I didn’t accomplish as much as I thought I would, by the close of the day I’m feeling much more together. Creighton has been working on establishing a website for me, and today he showed me how to access it. I’m excited to start adding my note card images and get it launched. Who knows, maybe it will be a success.

Such a strange sensation; like walking through a vacuum, or the stillness before an imminent storm; the air all sucked out, quiet, waiting. Tanya, Dave and I encourage one another with e-mailed news and opinion pieces as we anticipate tonight’s presidential debate. Will McCain attack? Will Obama stumble? Will it all crumble down? So much rides on this election.

At the same time, international financial disaster sucks life out of dreams, drowns hope for future stability and prosperity. My retirement, once a light at the end of an ever shortening tunnel, now is an extinguished flame. Work 'til I die.

Racism. No doubt about it. When I heard the crowd Sarah Palin was whipping up in Florida, I was alarmed, then outraged. Though only the aural message entered my awareness, visions of lynch mobs raised the hair on my body.

Country first? My country? Yours? “That One’s”?

Malignant mentality: overt and covert negative innuendoes challenge this nation to rise above the noise of bigotry. Though obscure to many, the Republican campaign’s inferences are a smack to the face of those who live the reality of racial discrimination every day. Working with people of color has heightened my awareness and sensitivity.

An urgent plea for help at the Union sporting events today prompted me to offer to help sell tickets at the football game. Last year I assisted at a few events, but hadn’t this year, so it’s my turn!

Arriving early I watched the cheerleading squad (about 25 girls) warm up with laps around the stadium track. Soon the band arrived on buses, unloading their drum kits and instruments. Both football teams were on the field loosening up with coaches on the sides. Then patrons came to my booth. I kept thinking “this is the best family deal in town.”

Inservice day. For twenty-five years I attended every goddamnedboring inservice offered; put in my “seat time,” collected the hours, and left; often no more informed nor engaged than I’d been before the ‘training opportunity.’ Remembering how frustrating it was to be commanded; “you WILL go to this TRAINING,” like I’m some sort of circus dog that doesn’t know how to behave, and needs some higher authority to whip me into shape. Well, that’s over. I’m resting on my laurels, and today my laurels are right here.

This old dog sees the light; adopts the trick. Coaches have done it forever.

Webpage in launch position. Friends not responded to in timely manner, bluegrass and birdfest event slips past with a nod, Creighton not able to engage in outside events, cold, frosty nights, patchwork wool quilt created by my grandmother warms us.

Saturday Susan on KMHD, house needs cleaning, work before play. Calls to and replied from “Craig’s List” service providers to replace gutters, and deal with dryrot at Longview property. Another to fix the fuckedupmess in my kitchen’s lighting.

Must be close to a full moon. Overarching. And Creighton’s on the phone to his brother? about baseball...out of the blue.

Launched, like the almost full moon peeking from strands of today’s clouds. I feel giddy. I want someone to “bite” and I’ve only put a hook on! Need to advertise - get the word out. Creighton ordered a card to make sure everything works, and it does.

I’m sort of stunned. It reminds me of when Creighton and I decided to marry one another; until we called our respective parents to tell them the news, it didn’t seem real. We could easily have dropped it with “just kidding sweetheart” and no one would have been the wiser - except us of course.

Autumn treasures thrill my senses. Gourds of gold and green: twisted, bumpy, smooth, ridged, bulbous, sleek, intriguing to me since I first saw one as a child. Indian corn: inedible, dry, deep mahogany, black, white, and yellow beads in a mosaic of symmetrical rows. Fascinating. Geese in V formation, stretched across a big sky twilight, honking the flock ever southward. Carnelian shrubs brightly framed by a mass of evergreens. Maple leaves the size of both my hands together, crinkled, blown, beginning their transformation into compost. And the unmistakable scent that emerges when the sun first shines on a frosty morning.

She was so distraught, almost in tears over this survey that was dumped on her, that I thought to buy a small plant for her as I shopped after work yesterday. It was a little “Peace Bamboo,” which is supposed to bring one good fortune. Well, it just looked like something she’d like, and it spoke to me, and it was in a sleek charcoal pot with a very small footprint. Easy care too.

It was on her desk when she arrived at work today. Just right. She loved it, and was immediately in my room with hugs of appreciation.

It’s homecoming week and kids are really into it. All these years as an educator I’ve watched the ebb and flow of interest in high school traditions, so when the “counter culture” types are excited, I take notice. Maybe it’s because the football team is undefeated? Or because today is the full moon? Perhaps the crisp mornings followed by sun filled afternoons? Heck, maybe it’s simply my own skewed perception since I’m as happy as I can remember ever being in the middle of October. Regardless the source, all are part of this spirit that flows throughout our school community.

Must have turned my radio down yesterday because though my alarm (NPR’s Morning Edition) was set, I didn’t hear it, and uncharacteristically, I didn’t spontaneously awaken on time. When dear Jacques put his front paws up on my side of the bed for his morning ear scratch, it was already 6:20, and I was an hour behind my time.

It always amazes me how many corners I can cut, and still shower, dress, and groom myself, drive safely, and arrive at work only 20 minutes late. I even stopped for a frapuccino! Blame it on the passing full moon.

Taking the plunge, I sent an e-mail to all my friends and family members announcing the “Grand Opening” of my web site. My goal is to make twenty bucks a month, so I can break even with the web presence! Not a very grandiose expectation, and really, I have no illusions of this being some great moneymaking expedition. More true to my intention is for this to be a way for those who may be interested in my work, to have an avenue to purchase my products. Over the past two years I’ve provided cards to worthy “Silent Auction” fundraisers.

All day I’ve been at the computer creating a 2009 Calendar. Now I have a web site, I’m determined to have it be relevant, and since I’m advertising Calendars, I decided now’s the time to get it done.

Calendar making is a tedious process which begins with establishing templates for each month, making sure all the dates are on the right days of each month, then adding in holidays, observances, and moon phases on the correct dates. When that’s done, the creative part begins with the addition of graphics, colors, text, and deciding what image to feature for the month.

Many friends have replied to my notice of the web site being up. It’s warming to receive compliments on my art work, and I’m encouraged by comments of the site being bookmarked and potential future orders. Funny how an almost frivolous pipe dream takes on a life of its own once its real.

A lovely fall day, and after so much time at the computer, I played in the gardens. Out with all the vegetables, and in with tulip bulbs! Put away the birdbaths, hang up more suet! Let the leaves fall, the blossoms fade. Life is ripe in change.

A damned good guy. Not perfect, but someone I could be honest with. We had our moments of anger flashes, but in the end we’d look one another in the eye and agree; “we’re still OK.” He was my principal/boss when I returned to Evergreen after serving as Association president. We trusted one another, and have continued to hold mutual respect as he moved into a district administrative position, and I moved on to Union.

A fit, athletic man, at least 10-20 years my junior, he’s in ICU (since Saturday) with what appears to be a brain aneurism.

How many explanation points does it take to tell someone you’re really excited, or happy, or whatever? I tend to be very conservative, believing instead that my words, with studied punctuations, are to deliver the message.

If anyone reading this ever heard Victor Borge’s “Phoenetic Punctuation” recordings, please email me. My parents had a record of him, and we’d listen as a family and laugh our fool heads off at it. Though he might pronounced an exclamation point followed by a question mark, I never heard a stream of six to ten exclamation points in a row. That I’d remember!

Mattie’s 15 today, so Jacques is 8, by default. Having their nails clipped doesn’t count as a “celebration” to them, but for me it was an affirmation of doggie behavior management. We’ve been frequenting a self-service-dog-wash-salon, where on Wednesdays, nailcare free.

While nail clipping used to send Mattie into an “I”m being neutered!” wail, now he quietly nuzzles his muzzled muzzle into me while the technician proficiently clips.

Though Jacques dislikes being bathed, he loves to be clean. Clipping nails, once almost impossible, now is accomplished with muzzle and snuggle. All this made possible by patience and doggie treats.

Rarely ill, Tanya’s out with vertigo. Not sure what’s the cause, she’s out for the count. Ten years my junior, she’s mothered me over the past year, but when I sensed how exhausted she was, I looked at her until she had to hold eye contact with me.

“You take care of yourself,” I insisted. “I will.” she promised, and for the first time in the months we’ve been together, she’s out for three days and the weekend. Maybe more?

Pat substituted for Tanya last spring when Tanya organized WASL testing . Pat: retired, widowed, apologetic, uncertain, competent, endearing. Worth mentoring.

Wonder if we’d have been friends it we’d been together as girls, teenagers, young women? What would she have believed about me? What would I have thought about her? Though we never crossed paths, Pat reminds me of girls my older sister knew. Older cousins, younger aunts.

As she prepared to leave, Pat confided that she loves working in our building office more than anywhere else in the district. “If I’ve done anything wrong, please tell Tanya I’m sorry. I’ll come in on my own time, to learn what I need to do to be better. I love it here.”

Missing the fun of baseball’s seventh inning stretch. Used to be the ballpark organ and someone like, Harry Cary would belt out; “Take me out to the ball park, take me out to the game, buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, I don’t care if we ever go back...root ,root, root, for the home team...”

Now the stretch has been turned into patriotic propaganda; “God Bless America,” designed to brainwash beerfilled, gutstuffed, vulnerable, masses. All on account of having been attacked on September 11, 2001.

My patriotism will rise when we sing; “one, two, three strikes your out.

Beautiful fall Sunday. Some new firsts for Creighton - that is first time since his breakdown. Beginning with the 2000 elections, he gave me his proxy. I always showed him any contested issues or races where he might have had a difference with me. He just asked me to vote for him as I saw it. With mail in voting it was quite easy. He would review, sign, seal and USPS would deliver.

Yesterday we had a second pot of espresso, pulled out the Sierra Club and NEA (WEA) PAC recommendations and filled in the bubbles together. My heart was proud.

News of my friend and colleague is not good. He suffered a stroke over the weekend and there is some neural damage as a result. I hurt for him and his family. He could have retired to a beautiful home on Priest Lake in Idaho already. But he didn’t and maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, but maybe it would have been the balm to keep him healthy. No way to second guess the body’s breaking apart. Such a grim reminder of our vulnerability. No one gets out alive, but most of us hope to thrive to a healthy old age.

Accumulating nicknames am I. Data Queen has stuck because I decided last year (and have continued this year) to examine the trends in “F” grades for our students at Union. Yesterday I brought the rough numbers to the monthly administrator and counselor meeting. Admin. totally dug it, and today Lisa, one of our associate principals, sent me a spread sheet she designed that outlines what info they want. Perfect.

On the other end of the spectrum, I’m the “Cake and Collegiality” crew coordinator. Maybe the most important job I have: engineering opportunity for celebrating together and just plain having fun!

Has anyone else noticed the latest verbal phenomenon? Maybe it’s only prevalent here. If you read this and it is something you notice too, or have never heard, please let me know with an e-mail.

“I just need to talk to you for a really quick minute...” or “I need to see you for a really quick second...” Often it’s framed as a question; “Do you have a really quick minute?” Or it’s a promise, “This will only take a really quick second...”

Whew! Slow down a moment! I’ll take the seconds and minutes you need. Quick is a trick.

When I’m feeling especially vulnerable, I sense that someone will randomly shoot me where I sit.

In the late 1960’s, before drive by shootings and road rage, I’d sometimes curl up in a ball on the passenger side of our VW Bug, while Creighton drove. When the sensation hit, all I could do was slide down the seat and cower.

Last night as I sat in my desk chair, with my back to the uncovered study window, a chill struck that prompted me to lower the blinds. Wonder why. White supremacists? New moon crazies? Eve of All Hallow’s Eve?

All Hallows Eve. I love how it sounds, the mystery in it. Rooted in early western Christian history, it’s the eve of All Saints Day when Christian saints, especially those without days named for them, are honored. All Hallow’s Eve: “eve of all the holy ones’ day.”

As kids, my brother, sister, friends and I would don homemade costumes, tramp on country roads, our brown paper bags disintegrating, and gather the little generosity that was offered. Once home, we’d spread our loot upon the living room carpet, trade for our favorites, and finish with hot buttered popcorn and apple cider.