friday

photo by Kelsey Hannah

This

If all the birds in the world
stopped singing
something else would begin
to carry their song, I see
the world spins on
the same when you were here
as since you've gone


 -- smh



Saw the prompt and had to sneak in a last minute magpie...
check out the whole week's worth over at The Mag

monday

Panama Diary...Chapter 1

So we've had 10 days to get acquainted, and I can tell you a few things. 

Panama is an awkward teenage boy -- early teens, perhaps 13 or 14 -- whose pants are too short. But he's growing so rapidly, it's not really worth buying new pants for now. He will just outgrow them again before school starts. 

He's starting to think a little more about things like attracting girls, and is trying different things to see what might work. But there's also a desire to just hang out with friends and be a kid awhile longer. Get dirty, play rough, show off in the neighborhood, learn new tricks on his skateboard. He can be a bit sneaky, might skip chores, blow off homework, maybe steal a candy bar now and then. 

Panama wants to drive a car but the very thought makes all the grownups in the room nervous. Sometimes Panama sneaks the car out anyway. There's going to be a fender bender at some point. 

Does any of this explain it? I don't know, but it's the best explanation I can think of.

Driving in Panama is crazy. I've never seen anything like it. If you want to do something, you do. Whenever you want to. That seems to be the only law. Things like lights and signs are suggestions, but then most people don't appreciate helpful suggestions from others while driving, right? Which seems to be how they regard lights and signs.

  

Speaking of helpful advice, it took 7 Panamanians to get Russ into this parallel parking space. They were hanging out of windows, learning in doorways, jumping up and down on the sidewalk, each with a different opinion about which way he should turn the wheel and willing to demonstrate. The guy who found us the space wanted his 5 bucks and wasn't going to give up for anything. It was one of the funniest situations I have ever been in...parking by committee in 100 easy steps! Luckily, when it came time to leave they had managed to get one of the other cars out first. 

When we started thinking about taking on this adventure, I did a little cruising around online to see what I could find out about living here. One of the first things I came across is something that made us laugh uncomfortably and often while we weighed our options. It has since become part of our permanent lexicon:  "The electricity doesn't go out nearly as often as in most third-world countries." 

This is a selling point?

The restoration of Casco Viejo (Old Town) has begun...however, this is what most of the buildings still look like (notice the tree growing out of the building?)

The restored buildings look like this. It's already a fun and fascinating destination, but Casco Viejo is going to become a true national treasure.

Now that we've had a bit of experience here, I find it to be one of the most apt descriptions I've seen. In fact, I think Panama would have written that line about itself. The people are openly proud to proclaim things like the fact that, "Even the tap water is safe to drink!" or "In Casco Viejo, we are actually building the first sewer system!" or "Panama has no major earthquakes!" (All things I have heard/seen in print while I've been here. And good to know, especially after I experienced the 5.8 earthquake that none of the Panamanians even noticed.)

Panama is the shopping destination for the entire region. Step into one of the malls, and you'll find all the same stores you find in an upscale American mall. But the veneer is thin. Finding a few basic items has proven to be challenging, and we have encountered limited selection and poor quality on some things. 

Just about as soon as I forget that I am shopping in Panama, something pops up to remind me. But you have to consider the fact that in 2001 there was not a single mall in this country. Now it is the shopping center for all of Central/South America. Still, if you move here, bring area rugs. And a mattress pad. Also an alarm clock and a bathroom scale, if those are things you like to use.

I will definitely be needing some hand-stitched mola shoes.

The food has been a delightful surprise! Panama takes its restaurants seriously. Whether fine dining or in a strip-mall, I have found every restaurant we've eaten in to be sleekly dressed-to-the-nines, with sophisticated world-fusion offerings. I love it when I can feed my eyes and my mouth...at the same time!

And everything seems to taste good. Eating is not my best talent, and eating in foreign countries is more difficult still. But I am bringing home a little excess baggage from my first 10 days here! 10 more, and I would definitely have to start using that bathroom scale. And if you like seafood? Panama may well be heaven.

That being said, when the tide goes out, it reveals amazing piles of garbage. The ocean is brown until you get an hour or two outside the city. There are chickens in the streets, and no one has ever once picked up after their dog, although everyone owns one. And that's in the fancy neighborhoods.

Loved this chicken living on the balcony. Notice the tether.

Panama City's toenails are painted but there's dirt under its fingernails. But then it is attempting a feat unlike anything I've ever seen. It's literally working around the clock, a city building itself at breakneck speed and trying to look good for the camera while doing it. 

I would describe the soundtrack as construction noise with a latin beat. The noise starts early in the morning, the music goes late into the night...and seems to be a hybrid Latin/Caribbean sound I'm calling "drums from hot climates".

I've heard Harry Belafonte sing Day-O live...twice...but this rendition may have beat it. A true highlight.

It wasn't raining. He dances with the red umbrella while he plays the trumpet. Highlight #2. 

The people are friendly and have been quite patient about our extremely rudimentary Spanish skills. Russ's team is comprised of bright, friendly youngsters (they do make them young nowadays, don't they?!) who have been educated all over the world and speak English like natives. They call him Papa, and Mr. Russ, both of which I find to be extremely charming. Sometimes they call him Fashionista, which does cause me to wonder whether we might be having a failure to communicate. But they seem genuinely excited to be working with him and the affection is mutual. Russ finds himself in a very happy place.

I haven't totally figured out why Panamanians don't seem to harbor a grudge against the US...the invasion was quite recent and seems to have been unnecessarily ugly in many ways. We did bomb/destroy significant areas of the city and kill 10,000 civilians -- but they are pragmatic about the cultural influence and the infrastructure benefits the US has provided as a result of our close ties. Panamanians have been as excited about the NCAA tournament as Americans, and have wasted just as much time at the office filling out brackets.

On Sunday, the park behind our building brims with teams playing cricket and people flying remote-controlled airplanes. The city seems to operate a large and curious nursery there as well -- starts of tropical plants and trees growing in hundreds of old paint buckets. Someone comes by to water them now and then, but no one seems to steal or bother them. Things grow here like crazy. The mold in your shower begins before you've even toweled off. And it appears that anything that stands still will be reclaimed by the jungle at an alarming rate. 

A balcony in Casco Viejo

I'd say the best surprise about this self-described Crown Jewel of the Americas is how much I already love it. How after 10 days, I don't want to leave. How, even as the world's most reluctant traveler, I think I'll be willing to endure cramped, long flights to get here and visit. Often. 

For someone who has spent as much of her life complaining about winter as I have, it seems fitting that I've ended up with a summer home and a summer home. A steam bath and a sauna. A quirky urban high-rise to complement my desert hacienda. 

I think that's going to be just the way I like it. 

Bienvenidos a Panama! 

wednesday

Henri Rousseau, The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897

Dream

We were there together, at least

I thought it was you

everything soft and almost

musical, plucked strings of light

the lilting moon

stars tossed like dice

for luck, but even then I knew

that something so familiar

wouldn't keep

 --smh

I do love me some Rousseau! 

Even though I'm a little late to the dance at The Mag this week...

now click over and check out the good stuff.

monday

How lucky I am to have something 

that makes saying goodbye so hard.

-- Winnie the Pooh

Between Us

Goodbye is the shelf

on which I sit -- 

feet dangling, stark

bare tick of clock, a self 

grown still and empty 

as the room we left

the window 

where I watch, chin set just so

atop my hollow

cup of hand, eyes propped

and waiting on the sill, and when

you placed me here, I hoped

that I would never

be allowed to gather dust

-- smh

You would be safe to assume that I find myself a bit lonely. Oh well...and so the solo adventure begins! After yesterday's Magpie, I figured I may as well indulge it and run with the theme for a moment. Okay, I think I'm done now. 

sunday

Poet's Sleep, Chang Houg Ahn, 1989

In Context

I find our words

mean different things

sometimes –

the way goodbye

has just become a chapter break

your face each time

I close my eyes, a pause

a bench, a place

I wait, it seems to me perhaps

we shouldn’t use goodbye

please tell me

there’s a better word

for this

--smh

Check out The Mag to read more work

inspired by this week's prompt. 

friday

If you want to take a job in Panama, it's complicated. And I don't just mean the part about convincing your wife you should do it and she should keep your hunting dog for you while you do, when she isn't busy flying back and forth to keep you company. It seems there are a lot of hoops to jump through between here and there, and we're just getting started. 

One thing on the list is getting our marriage certificate (which miraculously, I was able to put my hands on) apostilled. 

"Huh?" I said. 

"Because I'm pretty sure that's not a word. See? Here we go, already encountering the language barrier that is going to plague us until we learn Spanish (after which it will probably still plague us because our Spanish will be so bad)." Direct quote.

But as it turns out, the nice Panamanian woman helping us through the process actually knows more English than I do! Because it IS a word! Further proof that there are still a whole lot of words left for me to learn. (I didn't really need additional proof. My son-in-law proves it to me over and over again each time he beats me at Wordfeud. Which is constantly. At least he is kind enough to let me keep practicing.)

But I didn't need to go looking for exotic words of international intrigue in order to expand my vocabulary...because I also find myself looking at some new definitions for familiar words right now. 

January, for instance. I have always thought of January in the context of bone-chilling cold and mind-numbing gray...a trudge on a 30 day treadmill-of-penance for all my holiday overindulgences: overdecorating, overeating, overspending...leading only to more cold and gray in donut-craving February. 

But suddenly I find myself in a world where January means heaven, full of 70 degree days and sunshine and blossoms and...although I'm trying my best to ignore them, possibilities and beginnings! Difficult old-year in the rearview! New-year adventure ahead! I can choose where I want to live and do whatever I want to do. 

Huh? Because I'm pretty sure that can't really be an option...

Even things that you think can never change sometimes do. So I'm going to have to rearrange my position on January. I'm working on that, because 50 years of conditioning is hard to undo. Maybe I should just start with a whole new dictionary...or probably two. 

Because one will need to be Spanish-English.




(How's your January so far? Been forced to step forward yet? If not, don't worry...there's still time.) 

monday

Here's the problem. I miss Small Works. I miss it, miss it, miss it. So yes, I've been cheating on you, Sidebar. I can't help myself...I sneak over to Small Works to visit sometimes and click, click, click...half an hour is gone. It's just that I miss my friends there. I miss the goofy color combinations (on my new MacBook with the fancy-schmancy retina display, some of the posts are kind of an assault to my...well, retinas. Sorry about that, any of you Dear Readers who got fancy new MacBooks before I did). I miss the black background that virtually every web professional advises against but that I love. I even miss the silly header that I was sick of and wanted desperately to replace for at least the last year or more...absence must indeed make the heart grow fonder!

I thought I wanted to just use words for awhile, but the thing I have discovered is that, as a result of my 573 Small Works posts, and my two full years of posting 365 Creativity Challenges, I now have a very difficult time separating words from pictures. 

I miss vintage underwear ads, and figuring out ways to relate them to completely unrelated topics. I miss the chatty, alliterative voice of Small Works Susan. Sometimes she still talks in my head, pointing out possible Friday Favorites or posing important existential questions about perception vs. reality while considering the color of a Tootsie pop wrapper. Those were the good old days.

Problem is, how can I have a blog called Small Works in Wool when I'm not currently making small works in wool? A conundrum, to be sure.  I have no answers. I just needed someone to talk to about it. So I thought I'd try talking to one blog about the other blog to see if something could be done to reconcile the two. If somehow they could get together and work out their differences. Or if maybe just admitting the problem might help...

I do have a tiny inkling of an idea. Something highlighting work by other artists (who are working!), but with the kinds of things that I miss writing about stuffed in all the cracks. A sort of Small Works Looks at Other People's Work for a (Welcome) Change...not a really catchy title, I admit. But what do you think?

Hmmm. My name is Susan, and I am still a Small Works addict. Goofy old blog. I know, blogs are SO 5 years ago. I should really consider a Twitter account instead. Or is that outdated too? It must be if I am even talking about it...sigh.

wednesday

Things I learned from 2013:

1. There may be something to the whole "number 13" thing. Although I am not a superstitious person in general, I have decided I will be skipping 2113. 

2. There is an alternate reality in which you can eat anything you want and not gain weight. However, it's not as great as you might think. You really just find different things to worry about (but admittedly, you get fries with that).

3. Some things we do not grow out of. My fear of spiders, for instance, only seems to increase with the size of the spider. And I probably have yet to meet my biggest spider.

4. Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of actual life events. In fact, it really may be safer to just never say anything. One illustration of this principle is the fact that my daughter Hannah's new beau appears to love country music. The irony of this fact is so delicious that I may not need to eat again until June. Hannah, on the other hand, will probably be eating a great deal, and far into the future. On the plus side, words are not fries.

5. Stuff happens, and it appears this will continue to be the case. As a simple test of this fact, close your eyes and complete this sentence..."I WILL NEVER ____________." Once you have filled in the blank, just wait. But you should probably open your eyes or you won't see it coming.

6. If you do not want to be where your feet are standing, move. For years I dreamed of moving to the desert, and having just finished my first year of actually living here, I find it to be even better than I imagined. For instance, I did not know that the desert not only blooms, sometimes the entire thing shouts for joy in amazing and endless yellow. (I wonder sometimes whether I am also in possession of such miraculous, unrealized possibilities? Because I look at you and I'm pretty sure you are.) The first time I saw the miracle grass spring up 6 hours after a rainstorm, I knew why I felt so drawn to this terrain. We understand each other. And on most days, we both fail to fully utilize our potential. The desert will teach me things.

7. If you grew up sleeping in a bed with someone, you probably have certain responsibilities to that person for the rest of your life. It appears that families may actually be forever...yes, starting now. So enjoy the good bits more, and never give up trying to improve the not-so-good bits.

8. There is a strong possibility that turning 50 is more than halfway. However, you still can't see the end. In fact, you can hardly see anything at all without your glasses. On a related note, menus are written for young people.

9. Learning the same lessons again and again means you haven't learned them. Perhaps you should meet with the teacher, evaluate the way you learn and come up with an individualized learning plan to help you make more progress.

10. Whatever doesn't kill you, leaves you alive so you can grow from it. Or at least write about it.


This is not a comprehensive list. In truth, it is merely a list of "Things I Realized I Learned from 2013 While Eating the First McDonald's Breakfast of 2014." So don't read too much into it.

tuesday

For a few years, we tried to start a little New Year's Eve tradition in which each member of our family wrote down our predictions for the others during the coming year, and then shared the predictions from the previous year to see the ways in which Ms. Fate had surprised us, and the ways in which we somehow managed to get the scoop on her. It was fun, but also a bit disconcerting when things turned out exactly the way you were afraid they might. 

At any rate, after a few years we gave it up. Perhaps we figured out that, no matter what, you're going to get surprised, so you may as well pour a little courage into your Happy New Year toasting glass and drink up. And then get ready for the first thing to come around the corner or jump out of a closet unexpectedly and yell "GOTCHA!"

On the news last night they were showing a "Top Stories of the Year" feature and I wondered aloud how the stories from our family's past year might be sorted according to "top story" status. Would the honors go to the brother-in-law who passed away pre-50 and so unexpectedly? My own dance with cancer that came out of nowhere, leaving a trail of unanswered medical questions in its wake? The altogether sudden appearance of a third strapping young man at our Christmas celebration, bringing hints that he may intend to throw an additional (we already have one on the calendar) wedding into the 2014 mix? Or Russ taking a job in...gulp...Panama?!

I can't answer yet, because each event dropped into the pond continues sending its ripples into our future. Even when the initial shock fades, the forward path retains its new twist. I'm sure 2014 will bring more of the unthinkable. Which means it's pointless to think about that now. Better to reflect on all the ways life remains remarkable and so utterly worthwhile, no matter where it takes us. 

So bring on a large Diet Coke, please, with a hefty shot of whatever else you have on hand that might help...and on we go. Happy New Year! Yes, again.

thursday

Immigration Reform

I want to learn Spanish, I feel

it’s the right thing to do, living

here among the lizards, the cactus

spines, the land of rocks and sun

and stings, the lank and curl

of snakes and everywhere sharp edges

Spanish is soft, Spanish rolls

off their tongues, lolls around my yard

making itself at home, working

while I watch

they rake and weed, heads wrapped up

against the sun, probably talking about me

I think, and who could blame them

Of course they’re talking

of their own lives, homes and weeds

sons playing ball, TVs

they talk of work and songs, dreams

and daughters, gardens, dinners

dogs, their mothers, cars and death

and yesterday, last night

week after next

But if I learned it, would they tell me

what they think about it all, would there

be a fence, a wall between us

could we become friends

or could I never speak that Spanish

theirs from birth, mine from a book or worse

a menu, even if I learn to say it all

correctly, get the accent right, hop up

in back of their truck, tie on

a bandana and ride

to the next yard and the next yard

and the next, laugh at all their jokes

would we ever laugh together?

I would like to tell them what I want

instead I watch them from my window

weeding in Spanish, their easy flow

of words a soft cool drink

their rakes cutting line after line

in the sand between us

--smh