Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Here's a heads up:
The hair is coming off. Oh I know, I know, "Don't do it Ang, your long hair is your trademark", I've heard that too many times before. Well, as many of you know my health is an erratic dance and recently it has been tangoing in a frenzy. The raucous expression has paid a toll on skin and hair, so I am off to the barber. I say this as a gentle announcement, so that when you see me you will exclaim in absolute wonderment, "OH MY, YOU LOOK MARVELOUS", or something to that effect, with jaw agape and a look of outright envy in your eye. The appointment isn't scheduled for another week, which should give you time to perfect your anticipated response.
I have often thought that I must have descended from the unfortunate lineage of Samson. Perhaps the lovechild of he and Delilah, unheralded and unexpected, endowed with the tragic notion that strength was somehow integrally connected to hair. I have been a trepidatious traveler into every salon whose threshold I ever tarried over. I have sat in a variety of chairs, each time staring with unblinking dismay at the foreign face, bedecked in a cape of hideous proportions, staring back at me. I have cut my hair short three times in my life. Once in the fourth grade to the ill effect of being called a boy more often than not. Once in my early twenties, when I fell in love with an Asian haircut (which didn't fair well on my curly, celtic locks) and once in my late twenties when an identity crisis found me staring in the mirror at June Cleaver. Perhaps it is because of this checkered past that I have grown so scissor weary. I am attempting to overcome that in the hopes of diminishing a recent proclivity toward dread locks and clogged drains... besides the stylist's name is Libby and not Delilah, so I should by in good shape.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Some of you might have noticed a post for the Playing for Change song, "Stand by Me". Here is a beautiful interview by Bill Moyers with the founder of Playing for Change. It reminds each of us to come together, to look beyond our own orbits, our own 'smallness' toward the point of connection that links us all.,


“Why should we not have a poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition, and a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs.”
Emerson
I have been reading and reading and reading lately, which translates into writing less and less. My nose is currently buried in Whitman's, Song of Myself, and my soul is vibrating with it. I had a loose awareness of the transcendentalists from college, but I had never really appreciated the scope and beauty. So if I am remiss in posting, imagine me greedily devouring Whitman, Thoreau and Emerson. I will emerge soon with more pictures and quips about daily life, until then...

Saturday, January 24, 2009

This is my younger brother Danny with his beautiful sweetheart Estella. They live in Puerto Escondido, Mexico and I have spent many useless hours imagining thier lifestyle, their home and their world. Life is a funny journey, at one time Dan and I were inseparable: wandering the creeks of Arizona in search of crawdads, digging mud holes, streaking through side streets, playing at bandits, fighting and getting over it. Time and circumstance have seen miles and miles of road grow between us, but whenever I see his face my heart fills with a wide smile and I know that I can do anything if he is behind me saying, "Go for it, you can do it Ang!".
I love you Dan- Dan- the Dreaming Man!

Friday, January 23, 2009


God (her)self culminates it the present moment and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages.
-Thoreau

Monday, January 19, 2009


We had a lovely day with some new and positively delightful friends, hiking through Aldefer Three Sisters park. Here are a few photos of our time together.

Owen plays at billy goat gruff,

Bodhi explores the wild grasses with enthralled rapture
Sasha and Hazel take a walkMaia and Hazel running through the grasses on our way back to the car.

Motherhood has been more difficult lately, like running through molasses on a chilly day. I have been irritable and overwhelmed. Owen has been tearful, emotional and at times, hard to relate to and Bodhi has been, well Bodhi. I was berating myself last night for my impatience, when Owen broke into another whining, crying jag and I just asked him to visit his room. Normally, I might have tried to talk to him or hold him, but I had nothing to give in that moment. He went. There is rarely a time limit to a room-recovery time, as soon as you feel recovered you can come out. He stayed in for more than 30 minutes. I asked him to come out and talk for a moment. He did. I told him that I didn't know how to approach his emotions and that I was sorry for that. He smiled, in his beatific way and said, "Mom let's just put that behind us and move on". He then proceeded to tell me that he had figured something out, "Mom, since we got the puppy I just don't spend any time alone... you know, me-time. I am either with the puppy, with Bodhi, with Shane, with you, or at school. I need some time to be with just Owen, to play by myself, you know. I was feeling angry and emotional because I was overwhelmed. I think I will just spend the evening with myself if that is okay with you". I nodded, he smiled again and hugged me hard, "Thanks mom". As he turned, I said, "Thank you, Owen". He nodded, seeming to know that what he said about himself was true for the rest of us... each of us just needs a little more me-time.
That's Owen!

Monday, January 12, 2009

A snow day and a sick day... snow for the boys, sick for mama (don't ask). I made the mortal error of thinking I could have a restful day of healing with two boys... WHAT WAS I THINKING. I did get to rest alot while they played outside in the white wonderland,
throwing snowballs...
eating snow...creating snow characters...
Playing with the puppy and Owen's snow ball maker...And when all was said and done Owen brought in 3 tight snowballs for some nice ice, just like Mama used to make.
Recipe:
Take one ball of clean snow
Drizzle with 100% pure maple syrup
Enjoy.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

transparent beauty

I went to see Ana Maria Hernando at her studio in Boulder. My mother-in-love took me along and I am so grateful that I relented, lifted my dragging heels and went. Ana Maria is working on an installation for the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art, essentially a mountain of colorful Peruvian petticoats. What struck me the most was the way that she talked about her work. She talked about flowers, doilies and woman's work... how the beauty of a woman's effort becomes a transparent backdrop to life.
Women wash dishes, embroider towels, clean sheets, scrub floors, quilt blankets, mend clothes, care for children and fathers and husbands...
while the love and effort that goes into each endeavor is transparent, fleeting...
like a flower briefly blooming and fading away...
like a brilliantly embroidered cloth quickly stained and torn by use...
like lace doilies, or hankies or hand crocheted petticoats.
Woman's work, transparently beautiful, so often unseen.

Our conversation made me think...it made me feel, to reach down into the quiet abyss of longing and it made me see. I looked into the mirror at the fleeting face staring back, aging, transparently beautiful, given briefly to the world and stained by time, by sorrow, by use. I long to hear her voice, my woman voice, uniquely mine with something to say. I long to acknowledge her beauty before her bloom fades and is gone. And yet I realize that it is the backdrop, providing an unseen context to the composition of a life.

Please go see her work at the MCA in February or click here to see it online.

Contemplating the navel, in our family, is more than merely a recreational activity... it is an art form, at which each of us excels in his or her own right. Bodhi, as usual, has taken it to the next level and introduced kissing the navel, a rather difficult aspiration, but if anyone is equal to the task it is Bodhi Samuel Katz, the One and Only.first you must locate the navel,
then the contortions begin.
Kissing the navel is an activity that can compare to practicing a zen koan... the sound of one hand clapping, kissing your own navel, etc. As opposed to the purely philosophical nature of navel contemplation, Bodhi is engaging in the very active meditation of navel adoration. We expect great things from this boy.

Friday, January 9, 2009


It has been an eventful week:
A dislocated shoulder,
A two year old escapee discovered in the street,
An emotional eight year old, overwrought with homework,
Philosophical conversations regarding the direction of Montessori and a possible marriage to the Reggio-Emilia approach,
A puppy (need I say more),
Back to work,
And the normal activities: house cleaning, bread baking, grocery shopping, meal fixing, sheet washing, laundering, child caring, dish doing, active listening, disciplining, all mixed in with a stiff shot of full throttle mother loving...
Is it any wonder that I have been remiss in writing?

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Playing For Change: Song Around the World

When I was a young woman bumping aimlessly through a terrifying world, I would often find this song playing in the background of my mind. Whenever I felt afraid or lost I would unconsciously begin singing this song and it always felt like the song was singing to me... now it can play for you.

(Thanks big brother)

Friday, January 2, 2009

Our new puppy... yes our new puppy. A beautiful tri-color red australian shepherd. Bodhi is crazy with excitement, Owen sick with love, Shane full of reservation and me... nervous but happy for now.
I'll post updates as time goes by.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

New Year's Day

Hiking on the first day of the New Year is my FAVORITE way to begin a year, particularly on a hike with two of the most marvelous hiking partners a person could hope for.
We began a creekside trek near Evergreen and stood for some time simply marveling over the beauty and majesty of the ice and water.
In a few short minutes Bodhi woke up from his brief nap to see what all the OOOHING and AAHING was about.
Owen took several opportunities to throw rocks at the heavy ice in hopes of sending it swirling down stream.
Unfortunately, he set off without a jacket ("Mom it's your fault, why didn't you tell me to get my coat". Hello! It is winter in Colorado, aren't coats a given?) And so after much hullabaloo, he put on Bodhi's tiny red down jacket and frolicked about.We caught sight of this wonderful bird. It dove repeatedly into the icy waters and then hopped onto the bank of ice and did a bobbing dance before taking another frigid swim. Each time it emerged it was met with a great booming applause from the boys.And then Owen found some tiny fairy cones Which he gathered for the fairy house at home.
The trail was icy and I kept asking Bodhi to hold my hand, of course Bodhi is not very fond of holding anyone's hand and so devised the brilliant plan of holding his own hands. Any time the trail got slippery he would grip his hands and say "I holding my own hands Mama" or "I am my own brother" and safely plod along.Owen caught sight of thisand said it looked like a two dimensional DNA and started talking at length about the helix structure of DNA's while Bodhi, holding his own hands, said Hi to everyone that came within shouting distance...And me...
I just radiated that proud mama vibe and counted my blessings for the best New Year's day I could have hoped for.

seasons

Fall
Winter
O the times they are a changin'.

New Year Blessings



It is not necessary that you leave the house. Remain at your table and listen. Do not even listen, only wait. Do not even wait, be wholly still and alone. The world will present itself to you for its unmasking, it can do no other, in ecstasy it will writhe at your feet.
Franz Kafka