Rambling with Isha

Livie and Jason - an exerpt

2011-08-01T15:13:00.000-07:00

By the time she reached Magnolia and Sims, the rain seemed to be letting up. Given the fervor with which it had been coming down, "letting up" was definitely a relative term, but Livie felt a sense of relief anyway. If nothing else, the wind had died down, and rain was no longer pelting her in the face.

She was adjusting her umbrella, trying to maximize the coverage, when her cell phone rang. Oh, crap. She contemplated letting it go to voice-mail again, but Jason would start to worry if he didn't get through to her soon. Besides, he had a big presentation in the morning. Even with the time difference, he was probably ready for crash. She flipped her phone open.

"Hi there." She tried to sound like she had been sitting at home waiting for his call. She hadn't mentioned her plans this morning over breakfast, and telling him now would just wreck his concentration. This was an important trip for him, and he needed to have his head in the game.

"Hey, babe!" She could hear the smile in his voice. "I finally got you. Where've you been all night? I've called, like, 3 times. I was starting to worry."

"I guess I've had my phone on mute. Sorry." The lie rolled off her tongue with disturbing ease. "How was your trip?"

"Smooth and uneventful, just like I like it. Except that I had to sit next to Farty Jim for the second leg. Ugh. That man needs to see a doctor." Jason laughed. "It wasn't so bad though. Did you know he's started brewing his own beer? He invited us over for dinner in a couple of weeks when this batch is all ready."

It was just like Jason to become friends with the ugly duckling of the office. Misfits and strays, in both animal and human form, were drawn to him as if by magnets. He had no idea why, but Livie understood. She'd been drawn to it herself, hadn't she? Jason had an air of patience and understanding about him that appealed to those creatures that had faced primarily ridicule and rejection in their lives. Although he had a wickedly sarcastic sense of humor, he was unfailingly kind. He had a way of teasing that made you feel included instead of ostrasized. No doubt, "Farty Jim" knew about and embraced his new nickname with the same good humor with which it had been bestowed. That's just how things worked around Jason.

"Sounds like a plan," Livie said. "Just let me know when so I can put it on the calendar."

"Sure thing, Liver." Her heart twinged a little at the carefree affection in his voice. "So what's happening with you?"

Her mouth and ears continued the conversation with him, sharing anecdotes about the cat and listening to more in depth descriptions of his trip, participating in the kind of rambling, aimless conversation that couples so often have with one another. Her mind, however, was busy chastising her for getting herself into this situation.

It wasn't that she was unhappy. Her life with Jason was almost exactly what she had hoped it would be. They had been married for nearly 10 years now, and they still held hands whenever they walked next to each other. They rarely argued, although financial discussions tended to get tense. They were still intensely interested in each other and could talk about a great number of subjects at length: politics, religion, current events, daily life, sex, aspirations, family, and so on. As a child, dreaming about married life, these were the yardsticks against which she had measured her visions.

"Guess what I did during the lay-over in Chicago." Jason's challenge broke through her thoughts.

"I bet you headed to that hot dog place, Big Dogs, as soon as you got off the plane and had yourself a foot long with everything on it," Livie replied with certainty. He wouldn't have set foot in the Chicago airport at lunchtime without including Big Dogs in his plans.

Jason laughed in affirmative. "You know me too well, darlin'. You know me too well."

Perhaps that was the problem. Everything was just exactly what she expected. After college, her life had followed a well-delineated path, like a train on railroad tracks that may curve this way or that slightly but never sharply enough to upset the engine. After a decade of travel, these tracks had become too predictable. The weeks came and went with numbing regularity. The alarm woke her to the same worn comforter and pale walls each morning. Her closet held the same clothes and the cat made the same demanding cries for food. Each day brought its own combination of the same chores she'd been doing for years, dishes needing washing, laundry needing folding, floor needing sweeping. Even the volunteer work she had taken on to fill her days had become predictable.

"So then, the head guy, he says 'Well, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible.' As if the rest of us were just sitting around on our thumbs, you know?" Livie could tell by Jason's tone that he was twisting the top of the hotel bedspread into little volcano shapes in front of him.

"Did you spit in his eye?" she asked, knowing that it would make him laugh. The rain had nearly stopped now. She stuck out a hand and watched the drops roll across her palm.

"Almost," he chuckled. "Almost. I did ask him exactly which part of the evaluation process he wanted me to skip in order to make the new deadline. That brought him up short."

Jason's schedule might change from month to month, but essentially he chugged through the same series of stations - observation, write up, presentation, follow up - for each company that hired him. He could be counted on to send a postcard from each city he visited. The majority of the time she could guess what was written on the back just by looking at the picture. It was a form of finishing each other's sentences (which they also did on a regular basis), she supposed. After years of shared experiences, she had grown to anticipate his jokes and references. She recognized the twists and turns of his mind almost as well as she did her own. For example, she could hear in his voice that he was winding down, reaching the edge of his energy reserves.

"Well, it sounds like you've had quite the day," Livie said. "You should probably get some rest, so you're ready to go to battle again tomorrow."

"You didn't tell me about your day," Jason countered. "Tell me you didn't waste away from loneliness all day."

This was her opportunity to come clean. She could just tell him about the phone call she had received and they could both have a good laugh over what Harold had suggested. Talking about it, bringing the evening's events out into the light, would disperse the mystery. Her current plan of action, so exhilarating up to now, would be revealed for the foolishness that it really was, and she could head for home (stopping for a pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food on the way). She could return to the comfortable cocoon that was her life.

"Oh, I didn't do anything but lounge by the phone, pining for you, my dear," she said. "And I'll do nothing but the same until you call me tomorrow night." After a few brief expressions of love, they both hung up.

She didn't want to be a caterpillar, safe in a cocoon, trusting that each day would be just as boring and predictable as the last. She wanted to do something shocking and dangerous. She wanted to feel adrenaline in her veins. She stepped out of the doorway that had sheltered her though her phone call, and resumed her journey along Magnolia Street. Thunder growled menacingly as the rain began to come down in earnest again.

The Letter - Quick Write 4/18/11

2011-04-18T17:29:00.000-07:00

Wrote the bare bones of this in 20 minutes. Then spent another 40 adding detail and flushing it out. It has potential, but I'm not sure I want to write another story with violence in it just yet. And this Frank is just brimming with violence, no?

- - - - -
The Letter

He had worked at that soul-sucking company without complaint for ten years, and this was the last straw. Frank stared at the crisp, white paper in his hand in disbelief. He had remained loyal to Lakes for 37 years. Despite every degrading and insulting demand they had thrown his way - pay freezes, reduced hours, a revolving door of incompetent, overpaid middle managers - he had tried to see things from the company perspective. He had accepted every pathetic excuse they had given him.

"Times are tough all over, Frank."
"I understand, Mr. Pickford."

"There just aren't enough hours this week, Frank."
"Maybe next week will be better, Mr. Pickford."

"It's too bad for the guys who used to work the line, but without that new sorting technology we would lose our edge. Then there'd be no jobs for anyone, Frank."
"Of course, you're right, Mr. Pickford."

He had bent over backwards for that damned company for 2/3 of his life, and this was how they chose to repay him? Less than 100 words (even counting that jackass's pompous signature) on a single sheet of copy paper? Perhaps he had simply misunderstood. He scanned the brief paragraphs one more time.

Dear Mr. Miller,

This letter is to inform you that you no longer qualify to receive health benefits through Lakes Recycling and Waste Management. Health coverage is provided to full time employees only, and since your hours have averages fewer than 40/week for the last 6 months, we will be reclassifying your position as part time effective September 1st.

Please contact the Human Resources department at (723) 555 - 8832 if you have questions regarding this change to your employment status.

Sincerely,

James L Pickford, Jr
Senior Management
Lakes Recycling and Waste Management
There was no chance of misunderstanding. The meaning was crystal clear. His reward for being a cooperative and understanding employee was to lose what few extra hours he could pick up, the minimal dollars they brought in, and his insurance all in one carefully crafted letter. With the news from Helen's recent appointment still weighing on his mind like a lead blanket, their timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Frank tossed the offending letter on the table and stood up. Grabbing his jacket and slapping a baseball cap on his head, he headed out the back door. What the hell was he going to do now? Frank didn't have an answer to that question yet, but one thing was certain. Someone was going to pay.

He stomped his way across the yard toward the shed. Helen's cat, Greta, saw him coming and high-tailed it for the bushes, hissing resentfully at his intrusion onto her hunting grounds. He and Greta had a hate/hate relationship, and that was just fine with him. He paused to insert a key into the padlock holding the shed's door closed. Used to be that you didn't have to lock up everything you owned. Now you couldn't leave a potted plant on the porch for fear some neighborhood brat would steal it and try to smoke it. The lock popped open, and Frank nudged a brick in front of the door to keep it ajar.

The light was bad inside the shed. There was only one window, and that was so thickly covered with dust and grime that it reduced even the brightest summer sun to a murky gloom. Frank had originally intended to hook the shed up with electricity, but those bastards down at city hall did everything they could to keep the average Joe from understanding their convoluted building and renovation codes. By now, he knew the inside of that shed like the curve of his wife's hips. It was familiar, comforting. No point in changing things this late in the game.

Guest Author!

2011-04-18T17:25:00.000-07:00

This story was written by a (secret) guest author. I think it's fabulous. I particularly like how REAL the characters are - even shy little Doris - in such a brief story. Leave a comment and let my guest know what you think. :)
- - - - -
SHIRTS

Tyrone had worked for the company for ten years, and this was the last straw. This memo. This attack.

He gripped the memo so tightly it crinkled as he leapt up, shoving back his chair all eight of the inches it took for it to smash into the cubicle wall. A quiet "whoa!" slipped over the wall accompanied by the clatter of falling pens on the other side. He stood a moment, staring into the overhead fluorescents as he ran over the lines in his head. He glanced down at the page again.

... and hawaiian shirts ...

Hawaiian shirts! Fuming, he stomped out of the cubicle and into the narrow walkway, elbowing aside Doris from the mail room. She stumbled back a step, bumping another cubicle, and gawked at his retreating form. The cubicle's inhabitant, Steven of the malodorous tuna sandwiches, slowly raised his head over the wall to see. Tyrone ignored it all, pounding forward toward the elevator. More heads popped up as he went, the commotion slowly attracting the attention of the entire office. By the time he reached the elevator doors, a small forest of quizzical heads had sprouted in his wake.

He stabbed at the "up" button four times in quick succession - Ha - Wai -Ian - Shirts! Righteous indignation boiled over and he couldn't hold still. He paced back and forth in front of the doors, pausing every few seconds to roll his eyes or sneer at the crumpled paper in his hand.

The elevator was slow. Above the doors, the 9 winked out, and, after a long moment, the 8 glowed. Tyrone froze and stared up at it for a couple of seconds, then resumed pacing.

How many times had Frank come in in a Hawaiian shirt, blazing with tropical color and life, daring the office to just try to drain the life out of him? How many times? And now this memo?! Tyrone looked down at his own green sweater-vest, coordinated striped dress shirt, muted slacks. Respect. Respect is what this is about. Hawaiian shirts!

Six.

A polite cough turned Tyrone around, and Doris smiled shyly at him with a twinkling wave. "Is there something wrong, Tyrone? You seem kind of agitated...," she trailed off, putting her arms behind her back and almost toeing the floor like a six-year-old.

Tyrone put his hands up a moment, started a shout, then caught himself. He looked down at the paper, up at the "5" glowing above the elevator, then back at Doris, who looked one snippy remark from jumping out a window. He pushed up his glasses, exhaled a sigh, and pointed to the memo. "Yes... there is something wrong. There is something wrong here at Jemason Incorporated, and it's rotting employee morale and driving customers away and probably making half the executives drink themselves to sleep every
night!"

His pace accelerated and volume rose with each word, until he was stabbing the page with an index finger to punctuate it. Again, he caught himself. Another deep breath, a hand through his hair. "Okay, I'm sorry. This has got me a little worked up..."

As he searched for words, Doris pointed at the memo and offered, "Is that the dress code memo? It doesn't seem too strict to me-"

"Strict?! Hawaiian shirts!" He stabbed it again, tearing a hole right through the word "Friday". "Of course it's not too strict! This vicious assault on corporate efficiency allows Frank, or any Johnny-dress-crappy with a closet full of eyeburn to wear Hawaiian shirts three days a week! This. Will. Be. Changed. This company can't afford to lose me, I'll tell you that right now."

Doris shrank before his withering rant, glancing left and right as if seeking someone to tag in. Plenty of people were watching, and more were listening, with their heads ducked out of sight, but none close by. When he finished and took a breath, Doris edged away backwards, mumbling what quiet platitudes she could find for a crazy man.

The elevator dinged and silently slid open. Tyrone glanced back at it, watched Doris retreating, then sit his lips into a grim line and turned. He strode into the elevator with the pure purpose of a holy crusader.

Meh.

2011-02-08T14:52:00.000-08:00

I have spent the last 30 minutes trying to write something worth reading, and it's not working. I don't feel smart or funny or thoughtful or interesting today. Today I just feel mean. I feel like pulling my sister's hair. I feel like sneaking up behind someone and knocking the books out of his hands just so everyone will laugh. I feel like throwing rocks at the windows of an abandoned house just so I can hear the pieces rain down, knowing that someone else is going to have to clean up the mess. I want to punch my hand through the wall or knock over an entire bookshelf or take a baseball bat to someone's mailbox. I want to do something that will release this nasty, ugly, angry feeling that is boiling up inside me.

You are probably wondering what could possibly be making me feel this way. Perhaps a poem will help me explain.

- - - - -
No Damned Good Reason

Because the sleeves on this sweater are just a little bit too short.
Because the sun was shining right in my eyes.
Because the returns register is located way in the back corner at Kohl's.
Because my iPhone has been cracked for 2 years.
Because someone hurt my feelings.
Because I can't see around that gas guzzling SUV in my way.
Because people are careless.
Because I am careless.
Because I had to take the compost out yesterday.
Because I don't have the words for what I'm trying to say.
Because my lips are chapped.
Because those blueberries aren't as sweet as I'd like.
Because a car speeding through the parking lot almost hit me.
Because my computer locked up.
Because there has been a slightly tweaked muscle in my neck for 10 days.
Because I can't have that thing I want.
Because I can't have lots of the things I want.
Because there's water damage on the bathroom ceiling.
Because I burned my tongue on hot tea this morning.
Because I forgot to floss.
Because gas is so ridiculously expensive.
Because a text message woke me up 2 minutes before my alarm went off.
Because my hair-tie isn't working right.
Because iTunes keeps shuffling through depressing songs.
Because I can't think of anything to write.
Because I don't live on a Hawaiian island.
Because I don't feel appreciated.
Because I am shallow enough to feel under-appreciated.
Just because.

- - - - -

Whatever. I know that life is good. I know that I am lucky. I know that I am loved. I know that there is no damned good reason for the way I'm feeling. At the moment, that is all irrelevant.

Great Expectations

2011-01-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

I have been working with children for as long as I can remember. My first experience in a classroom was when my baby brother (Hi, Ty!) was in kindergarten. I traded my study hall period for an hour of helping in his classroom. I read with them, played with them, helped them complete activities, and listened to their stories. I was in 7th grade at the time. I have held some kind of education related position every single year since then.

Many of the things I do today are the product of hard work, practice, and dedication. Some skills were mastered relatively quickly. I've been walking and talking (to varying degrees of success) for 30+ years. I took to reading like a duck to water. Some were developed slowly over many years. My sewing skills have improved through the repetition of 2 decades. Mathematics and writing are still works in progress. The fundamentals of teaching - understanding what is going on inside the minds of children and being able to communicate new ideas to them - are skills that I don't remember learning. Teaching is what I was born to do. It is my purpose in life, and it is a part of me at a cellular level.

Anyone who's had the dubious pleasure of carrying on a conversation about education with me will be able to tell you that I am more than a little opinionated on the subject. I have very strong feelings about what education is, how it should be done, and what is wrong with our public school system. I am very passionate about all things relating to the welfare of children and the molding of our future generations. Despite my lack of personal hands-on experience, I have some very distinct ideas about parenting, as well, although I am the first to admit that theory and practice are two very different animals.

All that is preface for me to admit that I am a snob when it comes to teaching. I have very high standards when it comes to adults interacting with and holding influence over children, especially when said adults are supposed to be trained experts. If you wish to be a part of this thing that is the very core of my being and the reason for my existence, you better be ready to give it your A game. I have no patience for people who treat teaching like a hobby or a 40hr/wk obligation.

What does it take to be a teacher I will look up to? I'm so glad you asked! I've arranged it into a nice little acrostic poem just for you!

- - - - -
T is for teamwork.
As a teacher, you are one small part of the team that is guiding each child into adulthood. You have to be able to work within the spectrum of teachers they are going to experience from kindergarten through high school and beyond. You have to be be willing to share ideas with and get ideas from the other teachers you work with every day. Teaching is too big a job to be contained within one single person. The only way to make the most of the collective knowledge, experience, and abilities of the educational system is to keep lines of communication in good repair.

Most importantly, you have to understand how to be an effective member of each and every Parent-Teacher-Student triangle of which you are a part. This includes accepting the weighty responsibility of your chosen profession. As the "professional" within this triangle, you will be held to a higher standard in the areas of self-control, knowledge, ability, and leadership. If you don't want to do your fair share (and often an large part of someone else's fair share), teaching isn't the job for you.

E is for enthusiasm.
Politicians and businessmen are doing their best to drain the fun and wonder from schools and turn them into factory floors. Students today are subjected to insanely high levels of testing and stress within our educational system, leading to feelings of anxiety, frustration, fear, and depression. Teachers must be able to reach through all that and convince their students that school is a positive place to be and that the process of learning is rewarding. Kids have an amazing ability to see past your facades and into your true feelings. If you don't truly enjoy your job or the material you are teaching, they will know that and it will influence their willingness to cooperate with you.

This doesn't mean you can't have a bad day. Even the most enthusiastic teacher will have an off day. Children know what it is like to have an off day or make a mistake, and they can be very forgiving as long as they trust that in your heart of hearts you are enthusiastic about what you are sharing with them.

A is for accuracy.
Obviously, the foundation of accuracy is having knowledge. This means being a life-long learner. Good teachers see themselves as continuous students. They take classes. They read. They talk about politics, religion, and the many other complexities of humanity. Good teachers reach outside their comfort zone to explore uncharted territories and make unexpected discoveries.

Being accurate isn't about how much information you can hold in your brain, though. If it were, I'd be screwed. I will freely admit that there are a great number of things that I do not know. For one thing, I have only studied tiny bits of a very small number of the subjects available to humanity in the 21st century. For another, I do not have a very good memory, and I'm sure that I have forgotten the majority of those things I have studied. Accuracy in teaching is often about your willingness to say "That's a very good question that I don't know how to answer. What could we do to find out?" coupled with your legitimate interest in the answer.

Accuracy is also about being able to gracefully admit to being wrong. There are going to be times when a 9 year old knows more than you about a particular subject. You and your ego have to be able to acknowledge their expertise and admit your own ignorance. This must be done carefully, however. There is a fine line between allowing kids to see that you are still learning and making them think they can't trust you to know what you are talking about.

C is for curriculum.
Developing a curriculum that works for your style is one of the most important jobs in teaching. Unfortunately, the textbook companies have such influence over schools that teacher prep courses often focus on how to follow a teacher's manual rather than how to truly develop lesson plans. A teacher's guide can be a great resource, especially as new teachers are finding their footing, but it makes me cringe to see experienced teachers moving day by day through a mass produced curriculum with little to no regard for the actual progress of their students.

Good teachers know how to tailor their lessons to meet the needs and interests of their students. They recognize the individuality of each child in their care, and know how to blend those unique individuals into a working whole. Good teachers make their lessons both motivating and meaningful. They can break a concept down into components small enough for students to master while simultaneously allowing students to visualize that concept's importance within the big picture. Teachers must know their students and their standards like the back of their hand, but they must be able to make adjustments on the fly. When curriculum planning is done correctly, the teacher has found that perfect balance between preparation and improvisation.

H is for heart.
In my opinion, this is the most important component of teaching because this is the driving force behind everything else. Being a teacher means adding a new batch of children to your family every year. It means expanding your heart to include each name on your roster. Not just for the time that they are in your class, but for the rest of your life. If you are doing it right, you will suffer from empty nest syndrome every June as your hatchlings fly off and leave you. You will wake up in the middle of the night wondering whatever happened to that poor little guy from 5 years ago. You will feel pride whenever you run into or hear news about a former student. You will brag about them to your family and friends because they will be a part of your family and your heart forever.

Like all parents, good teachers also experience frustration and anger. If your students don't disappoint you or upset you occasionally, you aren't investing enough of yourself into your teaching. If your students are failing tests or neglecting their work or tuning you out, you should be driven to do whatever it takes to find a solution. This means digging deeper into the causes behind these behaviors. It means thinking outside the box and calling on every resource at your disposal. Teachers have to be able to morph frustration and anger into the fuel needed to keep going until something works.

It is vitally important that your students feel your pride and learn to trust that you care about them before you express your frustration or anger with them. It is equally important that they understand that your pride and frustration aren't mutually exclusive.
- - - - -

There you have it - the five elements that I feel are absolutely necessary for quality teaching. I recognize that it isn't possible for any teacher to excel in all these areas at all times, but the teachers I respect the most are the ones who recognize the value of these aspects of their job.

I should add that time, while not actually mentioned by name, is woven into each of the 5 aspects above. It takes time to communicate, to care, to plan, to learn. Good teachers come in early, stay late, and spend a significant portion of their weekends and their often envied vacation time working. Teaching isn't just a hobby. It's not even just a job. It's a lifestyle. And it takes a special kind of person to life it.

Front Porch

2011-01-19T10:09:00.001-08:00

The entrance to my humble modular home is still accessed by the same temporary set of wooden steps that were put in when the house was first pieced together 6 years ago. I believe that the expectation was for us, the first owners to actually take up residence within, to replace those temporary steps with something more permanent. A deck, perhaps, or maybe a nicely formed set of concrete steps. Unfortunately, those expectations couldn't stand up to the aggressive combination of apathy and penny-pinching that guides our home maintenance program.

Most days, firmly entrenched in the GO GO GO mentality that is so prevalent in our society, I hate those steps. Did I say hate? Hate doesn't carry enough emotion. I abhor and revile those steps, with their wobbling treads and peeling paint. I despise their penchant for impaling my fingers with splinters. I loathe the way the nails slowly work their way out of the wood, striving to snag unsuspecting shoelaces and pants seams. I detest the railings and their hidden unreliable nature. When I look at them with the eyes of a consumer, a rat racer, a participant in the one-up-man-ship of neighborhood living, I wish every day that I could replace those dilapidated steps with something that more closely resembles the elaborate dreams in my head. Occasionally, however, the scales of materialistic desire fall from my eyes, and I am reminded how comfortable my steps really are. This morning was a perfect example of this kind of clarity.

By 8:00, the sun had risen past the redshank bushes on the top of the hill and begun it's march across the sky, unseasonably enthusiastic for a January high desert morning. Under this energetic glow, the front porch warmed up quickly. The dogs, who had been baking happily on the top step until I opened the door, swirled excitedly around me as I settled my bottom on one step, feet on another. Uncontainable in the sheer joy of human company, tongues swabbed my chin and noses pushed their way under my hand.

I gazed out over the piece of land I call home. A long, green hose snaked its way from the spigot at the corner of the house, through the legs of the lawn table (lonely now that all its chairs have been banished to the garage), to the base of one of the currently dormant lilac bushes. A slight breeze danced softly through the tops of the redshank, but the air at ground level was undisturbed. A bluish haze of mountain, trustworthy and solid, stood guard in the distance.

I could smell the ground and the bushes, the dogs and the house as they all soaked in the sun. For a brief moment, there were no far off cars, no barking neighbor dogs, no planes zooming overhead. There was just the peace of being exactly where you are supposed to be, surrounded by the things that bring you joy. There was just home, and there is no place I love more.

Broken down, old steps, and all.

Belief System

2011-01-10T10:15:00.000-08:00

Having a fascinating discussion (depending on the security settings in place, you may or may not be able to follow that link) via FaceBook regarding religion, progress, and the future of humanity. Got me thinking about my personal belief system. The Religion of Sol can pretty much be boiled down to the following:

"All I can do is live my life the way I believe it should be lived for the good of as large a monkeysphere as possible and with as little hypocrisy as possible, and hope that everyone else will do the same."*

I know there's a lot of room for interpretation there, and as my dear Uncle Neil pointed out, "Hope isn't enough.", but that is the foundation upon which my daily decisions are made. And isn't that what religion is all about?

*I know that it is the epitome of gauche behavior to quote one's self, but I wanted to remember this. And I'm pretty gauche even at my best.

Tattletale

2011-01-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

When we were rearranging furniture a few months back, we finally decided to get rid of a couple of old living room chairs. Hand-me-downs from Mike's parents (as much of our furniture is), they are short, squat things of a indeterminate beige coloring. When we bought our first house, I purchased slipcovers for them to disguise the way the cats had shredded the backs into non-existence. Choosing the least hideous of the patterns available was a challenge, so for some time they were short, squat things covered in giant blue cabbage roses. Most recently, they have served the sole purpose of providing comfortable seating for the quatrain of cats that own us. If you, yourself are owned by even a single cat, I'm sure you will understand why it took us so long to act upon our desire to dispose of these chairs. Having experienced a full and productive existence, the chairs were finally moved to the garage, the purgatory our belongings end up in for that endless period of time before we finally load them in the trailer and take them to the dump.

But this isn't just a story about chairs. This is mostly a story about my dogs, Trooper and Wiggles. Trooper is a 7 year old black lab mix. He has a stocky build, huge paws, and a head shape that makes people ask if there is pit bull in his lineage. (Maybe? I don't know.) He has a sweetly serious temperament, taking everything I say to heart. Although he doesn't pick up commands as quickly as his sister (Mia) did, once he understands what I want of him, he does it without question or complaint. The only thing he won't do, no matter how much I command, suggest or cajole, is set foot in water. You would think a lab who experiences 100 degree temps every summer would love getting wet, but Trooper would rather roast to death than put one paw in the wading pool we provide for them.

Wiggles, on the other hand, loves the water. She not only stands in the pool, she lays down and rolls around in it. Wiggles is a black lab/retriever mix. She's probably about 3 years old. She appeared out of nowhere a couple years ago, a mostly grown, not quite starving pup who was desperate for some love and attention. She would climb over our 6 foot chain link fence (as just about any dog in the neighborhood, including my own, can apparently do) and cavort with Mia and Trooper for awhile before we noticed her, causing her to climb back over the fence and run off. This went on for several days before I finally told her that if she wanted to stay with us she had to stop reminding Mia and Trooper how easy it was to climb the fence. I put the training collar on her and did a few laps showing her what I meant. She was a quick learner, needing only the beeps and my tug on the leash to get her to understand. "She's a smart one," I told Mike. Ha! I spoke too soon.

Wiggles is well meaning and eager to please, but she's a far cry from smart. Lucky for her, she is ridiculously adorable. As soon as she sees you, her whole body starts to wag (hence the name) and she immediately starts searching the vicinity for a stick or rock or blade of grass or something to hold in her mouth. Her life would be perfect if she could spend every waking minute and most of the sleeping ones jammed up against a human being who would consent rub her chin nonstop until the end of time. Being a youngster, she is full of energy and loves to play. Her favorite game is Annoy the Hell out of Trooper. She bumps into him, bites at his legs, runs circles around him, and generally does all the things an annoying little sister would do to inspire an older brother to lose his cool and start chasing her in circles. She's very good at this game.

Although I am the Alpha of my little pack of canines, Trooper is the second in command. He eats first, he has the best territory, and he is the first to chase off the cars that occasionally drive past our house. Wiggles constantly challenged Mia's status in the pack, probably because she knew Mia was sick, but she never challenges Trooper's authority. He is the clearly established dominant. Except for one thing.

Here's where the chairs come in. During the recent ~~rainy~~ monsoon season at our house, we let the dogs reside in the garage for a couple of the wettest, most miserable days. During that time, Wiggles discovered The Chairs. You can tell that's how she thinks of them, with capital letters. She loved The Chairs and spent the remainder of the rainy days snuggled down in one or the other. By the time the rain stopped, she had grown so attached to The Chairs that it broke her little heart when she was once again restricted to the out of doors, chair-less. Every time I would open the garage door to fill their food bowls, she would sneak inside and hunker down on one of The Chairs, pleading with her sweet, brown eyes for me to let her stay there. Finally, I gave in and moved The Chairs out into the kennel area. She and Trooper both prefer to sleep on the chairs than in the igloos unless it is exceptionally cold and windy. Even then, Wiggles will often stay on The Chairs, causing me to fret about her well-being and cover her with a blanket. (I know... I know... )

Somewhere along the line, Trooper decided that he liked one of The Chairs better than the other. Perhaps because of the feel of the cushions. Perhaps because of the way Wiggles had gnawed an arm of the other one to destruction. Perhaps because of some doggie reasoning that I will never know or understand. Whatever the reason, Trooper only likes to sleep in His Chair. Wiggles, being the brattiest of bratty little sisters, immediately decided that she, too, preferred sleeping in His Chair. And since she is usually the first to settle in for the night while Trooper is still securing the property, she is often in His Chair when he wants to go to bed.

He's the bigger, stronger dog who has been here longer and has a higher standing in the hierarchy of our pack. You'd think he could handle this. You would be wrong. Instead of making her move, he sits next to the chair and barks. Not the 3 note bark that he uses to warn trespassing cars and animals of his presence. Not the howling bark that he uses to commune with his coyote brethren. One single, sharp bark. I have secretly observed him doing this through a window. He is sitting in front of her, but he is barking in my direction. He wants me to know that she is in His Chair. If he happens to see me moving around on the other side of the window, he runs over to the edge of the kennel, stares intently at me, and repeats his one sharp bark.

The first time this happened, I was confused. Was he hurt? Had something gotten in the yard? Had I forgotten to feed them? Then, I suddenly recognized the tone of his bark. I recognized it from my years in the classroom, my hours of playground duty, and my own personal experiences with younger siblings who liked to take my things and drive me crazy (and whom I may have, on rare occasion, tortured in return). I knew exactly what he was trying to say.

"Mooooooooooooooom! Wiggles won't get out of my chair!"

My dog, Trooper, is a tattletale.

Book Review - The Name of the Wind

2011-01-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

I am a fan of fairy tales - always have been. Partly because I'm a dyed-in-the-wool romantic, and nothing makes a romantic's heart weep like the will-they-won't-they relationships found in fairy tales. Partly because I was taught quite early in my childhood to always root for the underdog (Let's go, Mets!), and the heart of all fairy tales is the path of an underappreciated, misunderstood youngster who faces poverty, injury, loss, illness, and certain death in order to defeat evil. Mostly because I am drawn with every fiber of my being to a good rhythm, and there isn't a genre within the realm of the written word that can influence the tide of one's heart-blood like a fairy tale.

A well-written fairy tale makes you feel like you're sitting around a campfire that is just barely staving off the darkness and wilderness of night, going over the events of the day with people whom you can implicitly trust to have your back. It speaks to your mind's ear in the voice of a road-weary gypsy story-teller. It finds the right balance between the expected - the magic of threes, the foreshadowing, the black hat-/white hat elements - and the unexpected - the surprising twists that fling our hero(ine) into and out of trouble with such abandon. Fairy tales leave you wrapped in a patchwork quilt of emotional aftermath: elation, melancholy, fury, and of course, hope.

There are a great number of fairy tales written specifically for adults. One of the best that I have come across is The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. (Aside - I would guess that this book is officially considered a 'fantasy', but it felt very fairy tale to me.) Imagine Harry Potter (exceptionally bright hero chafes under limitations and rules of youth) meets The Princess Bride (an innocent yet smoldering, star-crossed romance) meets DragonLance (feudal setting filled with burly peasants who gather at inns to discuss the nearby forest's potential for evil). It has adventure and science and magic and beggars and mead and candles and headmasters and maidens and copper coins and lutes and jealousy and keys and a maybe-dragon. In short, it is exactly the kind of story in which I want to immerse myself for hours upon hours at a time.

I have only a few complaints about this book. The first is that it was a mere 722 pages long. I devoured it in the course of several unintentionally late nights, and I am now slavering for more. The second is that, in the fashion of many great fairy tale/fantasy stories, this book is really just a large part of the whole story. It ends rather abruptly and leaves the many threads of the story all loose and dangly. This would be fine, if not for my third complaint. Thirdly, the second book in the story has yet to be released. (According to his website, it is expected to come out in March of 2011.)

I am in agony. If you have any affection for fairy tales or fantasy stories, you should get your hands on a copy as soon as you possibly can. My misery needs some company.

My Mia

2011-01-02T13:40:00.000-08:00

It's been several months now since my Mia lost her battle to lymphoma. I started writing this shortly after I learned she was sick and as she got worse, I didn't have the strength to finish it. I don't want to leave her story untold, though, so here it is...
- - - - -

I first met Mia when she was just a few weeks old. She was one of the puppies born to my dear friend Ann's dog, Shammy. I don't specifically remember Mia as an individual, so much as I remember the whole wriggling, wiggling, tumbling mass of puppies in Ann's laundry room. I do remember being surprised to find that Shammy, a yellow lab who is so pale she is almost white, had given birth to an entire litter of puppies that were such a dark brown that they looked black except in the most direct sunlight. At the time, I lived in a tiny house on a tiny lot next to a street that was often used by drag racers late at night. I enjoyed playing with the puppies but knew that I wouldn't be taking any of them home with me.

Another woman and her daughters were there visiting the puppies at the same time. They ended up adopting the runt, Mia, and one of the males, whom they eventually named Trooper. I figured that was that.

Two years passed.

One day, at work, Ann came to me, distraught. She had just learned that the puppies (now 2 years old) were being sent to the pound. To make matters worse, when they were turned in to the pound it had been reported that they were acting aggressively towards people and other dogs. (Although I don't know for sure, I suspect this was a complete falsehood. They play loudly and they try to sound tough when someone comes near our property uninvited, but they don't have an aggressive bone in their bodies.) This meant that instead of trying to find them a new home, the folks at the pound were going to have them put down. Knowing that I had just recently moved to a new home on a completely fenced 2 acre lot, Ann asked if I would foster Mia and Trooper while she worked to find them a new home. Assuring Mike that it would just be temporary, I managed to get him on board.

They arrived at our house on a Saturday. Ann and her husband helped us reinforce the fenced outdoor cat-run, and they settled in. I quickly realized that these rowdy, untrained labs were going to be hard to place. Not wanting to set them up for failure, I had to admit to potential adoptive families that they barked at anything that moved, dug holes all over the yard, went nuts when they saw the cats through the windows, climbed both under and over the fence to roam the neighborhood, and didn't know a single command. They jumped up on people, loved to tear open garbage bags and throw the contents about the garage, and even jumped onto the roof of my car (leaving some nice, deep gashes that nearly gave my father-in-law a heart attack when he saw them). They were beautiful labs with energetic, friendly personalities, but their bad habits were daunting.

After several months of fostering, I starting thinking of them as "my" dogs. By that time, I had started teaching them to come when called and to sit on command. They were learning to jump next to, rather than onto, people when greeting them. After many nights with me hiding near a window and throwing penny-filled soda cans toward the kennel, they were learning to limit their barking to appropriate times. Eventually, I admitted to myself and my husband that I had no intention of letting them go. A big reason for that was the events of the Fourth of July.

From the very beginning, Mia was an independent thinker. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted. She had spent the first 2 years of her life as the leader of the pack (Trooper may have been bigger, but he recognized that she had all the good ideas and followed her loyally), and wasn't going to hand over her crown easily. She also had built up a fair amount of mistrust for humans. Although she was friendly enough, you could tell that she was just waiting for something bad to happen. Shortly after the dogs moved to our place, Mikey was doing yardwork. He picked up a large branch to toss it onto the brush pile, and Mia, on the other side of the yard, immediately dropped to the ground in a defensive position. Later she did the same thing when a male friend of ours was using the hose to water the garden. It took her almost a year to lose that reaction to men she perceived as "armed".

Trooper quickly accepted us into the pack, but Mia treated us like company for a long time. On July 4th, 5 months after they came to live with us, was the first time that she really let her guard down around us. Mia, like many dogs, was terrified of sudden noises. She didn't like hearing gunshots, or even loud hammering, in the distance. Imagine her terror then, when the fireworks started. At that point, we were still keeping them on leash whenever they were out of the kennel since they had a bad habit of disappearing over the fence as soon as our backs were turned. Trooper and I were sitting on a rock, and Mikey was walking Mia around the yard as we waited for the show to start. After the first crash of fireworks, Mia began pulling frantically at the leash. She didn't stop until she had made her way over to my rock and into my lap. She spent the entire 20 minutes huddled up against me.

From that point on, Mia gradually entrusted me with the role of pack leader. She would (mostly) do what I asked, often with a wry look that said "Alright, but that's not how *I* would do it", and she never gave up the habit of trying to climb into my lap - all 55 pounds of her - when she was nervous. The next 3 years were fabulous. Mia and her brother went from barking, digging, chewing, escaping visitors to being two of the best dogs I have ever known.

In February of 2010, Mia started walking funny. At first we thought she was having muscle or joint problems, but eventually, as she gradually lost the ability to control her hind legs, we determined that there was something pressing on her spine. Suspecting a ruptured disc, she had the first of what ended up being many, many procedures. Instead of the disc material he expected, the surgeon found a mass that allowed the doctors to diagnose her with small cell lymphoma.

We threw everything we could at the disease. She had a 4 week course of daily radiation treatments, followed by several different forms of chemotherapy. Mia and I were at one vet's office or another several times a week for the next 7 months. Through that time, she accepted everything we did - poking, prodding, traveling, medicating, restraining - with the same faith she showed me on that Fourth of July. She trusted me completely. I will always be honored that my Mia, a dog who knew her own mind, was willing to put that kind of trust in me.

On September 20th, Mia let us know that she was ready to move on, even if we weren't ready to let her go. Her calm acceptance of the truth was the last lesson that she shared with me. I still have Trooper (and my dear spazzy Wiggles), and I know that I will share my home with many dogs as the years go by - I'm a sucker for an animal in need - but I don't think I will ever love another dog in quite the same way that I loved my Mia.

Excerpt #4

2011-01-02T12:19:00.000-08:00

Took 3 hours to slog my way through 1000 words today. I have been away from the story for too long, and I lost the emotional thread. I think I finally found it in the last two paragraphs...
- - -

"I don't want to hear your whining excuses," Robert snapped. He brought his arm up as if he were going to backhand his son. For the first time since the door had closed, Karin moved. She took a single step, putting herself between her brother and her father's outstretched hand. Her heart beating loudly in her ears, she faced her inebriated father. She spoke slowly and calmly, fear betrayed only by a slight breathiness in her voice, "That's enough. They were right to cut you off. You need to leave now, before you do something you can't take back."

It took all the courage she had to stand there, ramrod straight, while her father debated his next move. Slowly he put his arm back down by his side and took a step backward. Before he turned to leave, he uttered six words, shoving them into her heart like knives. "I expected more from you, Rini." The stress and adrenaline of the situation finally overwhelmed her, black roses blooming across her vision. By the time her world stopped spinning and her breathing returned to normal, he was gone.

1/1/11

2011-01-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

January 1st.

The eldest child of the year, piled high with the responsibility of all our hopes, dreams, and wishes. The one day when potential shines brightly without the tarnish of inevitable failures or disappointments. A time for us to shake off the mud and grime of the previous year and start fresh. January 1st is here once again, challenging us to forgive ourselves for the mistakes of the past 12 months and renew our faith in our own ability and motivation for the next 12.

Perhaps it's because I am an eldest child myself, or perhaps just because I have an affinity for organizing and planning (I feel there might be a correlation between those two...), but I have always enjoyed the turning of the year. My chosen career path provides me with a nice vacation during which I can recharge my batteries and build up the energy to try, try again at this thing called life.

I gave up on 'New Year's Resolutions' several years ago. I hate the black-or-white quality of resolutions. There's no wiggle room and no opportunity for redemption. Once you've eaten that first extra bowl of ice cream, skipped your run for the first time, or smoked that first cigarette, you are a failure until January 1st rolls around again. I can't handle that kind of pressure. Instead, Mikey and I take time around the first of January to evaluate the facets of our lives - work, health, home, relationships, fun, growth, etc. What are we doing well? What do we need to work on? What would make us healthier, happier, kinder, better (and let's be honest, wealthier) people? Most importantly, what small steps we can realistically take to make these ideas for improvement a reality?

Coming from an educational background, and having plenty of experience with IEPs, I tend to think along those lines for my goal planning. Having had the idea of SMART goals drilled into me during many in-services and staff meetings, I try to make each goal:

Specific - know exactly what you hope to accomplish and why
Measurable - plan how are you going to know when you have reached your goal
Attainable - make sure you have (or can get) access to the tools and resources needed to reach your goal
Realistic - stretch yourself to reach new heights, but don't set yourself up for failure
Timely - identify time frames for your goal (or better yet, for small chunks of your goal)

Some years, I have actual write out goals, complete with baselines and progress markers. Other years I simply jot down notes regarding my goals. Sometimes having my goals posted somewhere visible is motivating and others it is just intimidating. Sometimes I share all the specifics of my goals with others so that I feel some obligation to continue making progress, and other times I keep them to myself in order to avoid jinxing them. The documentation is less important (for me) than the process of really thinking about where I am and where I'd like to be. No matter what my goals are or how they manifest themselves on a given year, it is always interesting when January 1st rolls around, and I get the opportunity to meet the new "Me". The "Me" who is 365 days older and ready to carry the responsibility of yet another year's hopes, dreams, struggles, and potential.

With that in mind, here are a few of my 2011 goals (you'll notice that this year was a "jot them down" kind of year). Last year was a year of starting many new things that brought me feelings of joy, contentment, and success, so this year many of my goals consist of not letting those new things lapse. I know these don't look like SMART goals... but that's because nobody but me cares about the details! You're welcome.

Health: run on a regular basis, regular dental/optometry/gp visits
Home: chore schedule, spend more time with dogs/cats, work on yard maintenance
Family: remember birthdays/holidays in timely manner, maintain regular contact, save for a trip to MN
Work: finish masters, maintain/strengthen social networking, budget time more wisely, give time/energy to school/students as needed
Fun: make Etsy items, read more, continue actively connecting with friends, make weekend trips a priority
Growth: write more, practice acceptance/forgiveness

I think these goals should keep me busy for the next year. I can't wait to see what 2011 has in store for me. What are YOUR goals for the new year?

Excerpt #3

2010-11-24T09:25:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I shared anything, so here's a taste of a different character.

- - - -

Karin sat at her customary table in the teacher's lounge. With one hand, she lifted a slice of homemade pizza to her mouth. With the other, she made a series of purple circles on the paper in front of her. She shook her head and looked at the woman sitting next to her. "I don't know why I bother copying those stupid spelling lists each week, Dani. It's clear that no one is looking at them" She tossed her pen down in frustration and gave the pizza her full attention. "Just think of the savings to my budget if I just stopped." She laughed. "And just think of the endless stream of irate calls I would get!"

Dani laughed. "How dare you not supply a word list for my little darling to ignore?" she said in her best snooty parent voice. She pointed her fork, complete with ranch dipped tomato slice, in Karin's direction and continued, "I pay taxes that fund this school. I help pay your salary. I'm practically your boss, and if I say I want extra copies of the spelling list so I can line my bird cage you have to give them to me!" She emphasized her words with a flourish of the fork that sent her tomato slice flying across the room. Karin and Dani dissolved into laughter.

"Seriously, though," Karin said. "My kids are averaging about 63% on their spelling tests lately. I've got to do something. That's just not acceptable."

Her phone began to vibrate in her jacket pocket. Pulling it out, she could see that it was her brother Alex calling. Of course. She'd been home all weekend without a peep from anyone. It was only when she was working, when talking was inconvenient or impossible, that her siblings ever tried to reach her. She glanced at the clock and sighed. With 10 minutes left of her lunch break, she figured she should probably see what he needed.

Another excerpt

2010-11-07T18:03:00.000-08:00

Alex's second accident was significantly less dramatic. It had happened a couple of years later just before hunting season. It had been a beautiful summer, and the deer population was thriving on the ample greenery. Despite his vigilance in the falling darkness, Alex was surprised by the buck that flung itself out of the bushes that lining the road. He stomped on his brakes, and flung his arm out automatically to protect the stack of pizzas on the seat next to him. The deer flashed its white tail and disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road. Alex pulled over to inspect the damage. Unfortunately, forward momentum had caused the pizzas to fold themselves up at the front of the boxes. In some cases a traumatized pizza could be saved with some careful maneuvering, but these were unsalvageable.

Alex had called the restaurant to let them know he would be needing replacement pizzas. By the time they were ready to go, Terry had already finished documenting the incident in his file. "You better be careful, Alex," he had warned. "This was your second accident. You've got to make it the next 18 months without an accident, or you're outta here.

Alex made it 17 months, 4 days, and 21 hours.

An excerpt

2010-11-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

Mr. Howard settled back in his chair. "I'm not about to hire someone I can't trust, but I'm also not about to lose a good employee to malicious gossip. How 'bout you shed some light on your side of these stories and let me decide for myself? Let's start with your most recent job. Wasn't that over at the cannery in Marsden?"

- - - - -

The Marsden Cannery had been a disaster. Desperate for some income, Alex had let an old high school buddy talk him into taking a job stacking pallets on the loading docks. He had only been there a few weeks when he overheard Vinnie Henderson, one of the warehouse managers, shouting at another employee.

"What are you, retarded?" Vinnie yelled. "Sometimes I think you must be an ass dressed up in people clothes, 'cause that's how fuckin' stupid you are. How many goddamn times do I gotta tell you to put the red pallets on the right and the green pallets on the left? Fer'chrissake, Big Eddie. Use yer fuckin' head." Big Eddie cowered as Vinnie threw the red pallet he was holding down with a crash and stormed out of the room. Big Eddie stared at the door for a moment before picking up the offending pallet. He looked at it carefully for some time before taking a hesitant step toward the pile on the left. He paused and glanced at the door through which the angry manager had just disappeared.

One look at his furrowed brow and downturned mouth made it clear that he didn't know where to put the pallet in his hand. Big Eddie's distinctively rounded face and upward slanting eyes made it obvious at first glance that he had Down's Syndrome. He came over from the Frost Lake Group Home a couple of times a week to sweep up and help with the pallets. He had been one of the first to welcome Alex to the cannery, and they had quickly become friends. Alex walked around the corner and greeted Big Eddie with a smile.

"Hey, Big Eddie! How are ya?" He slapped Eddie playfully on the back. "Did you catch the Twins game last night? How 'bout that last minute homer?"

Big Eddie's face lit up. "Hi, Alex," he said. "Yes, I watched the game. I always watch the Twins. I was afraid they were going to lose, but then they didn't. Did you watch the game?"

"You know I did," laughed Alex. "I'm just like you. I always watch the Twins." He looked at the pallet that was still in Big Eddie's hands. "You want a hand with that, Big Eddie?"

The frown returned to Eddie's face. "Red pallets on the right. They both start with "r"." There was a touch of defiance in the eyes that met Alex's. "I'm not stupid. I'm good at remembering things."

"I know you are, Eddie. I know you are," Alex said. "You're the only one who knew what Ramirez's batting average was last year, aren't you? Vinnie just got upset."

"I'm not stupid," Big Eddie repeated. "I don't know why he has to be so mean to me. It's not fair for him to yell at me when they're all the same. I am putting the red pallets on the right." Eddie's voice shook slightly.

"Don't worry, Eds," Alex said. Suddenly a thought occured to him. "Hey, Big Eddie, what color are my shoes?"

Big Eddie looked down at Alex's lime green Converse sneakers. "That's a silly question, Alex. Your shoes are red." Suddenly he frowned again. "Aren't they?"

"I think I know what the problem is, Big Eddie. Has anyone ever told you that you were color blind?"

Eddie laughed. "I am not blind, Alex. I can see!" He laughed again at the sheer ridiculousness of Alex's question.

"Not blind, Eds. Color blind. That means that your eyes can't tell the difference between certain colors, like red and green. Lots of guys are color blind. It's no big deal." Alex smiled at Big Eddie.

"It is a big deal! I don't like to be yelled at." Eddie's voice rose. "I don't like when Mr. Vincent says those things to me." At that point a truck had pulled up. Before heading back to work, Alex had assured Eddie that he would come up with a solution. Before that had happened, though, Big Eddie had had another run in with Vincent Henderson, manager extraordinaire.

Once again, Alex had heard Vinnie yelling from the warehouse floor. "Dammit, Eddie. I've had it with your dumbass mistakes around here. I don't know why we let a retard like you in the building. Pick up that fuckin' broom and clean this mess up. Then get the hell out of here. I don't want to look at your stupid face anymore." Vinnie stood over Big Eddie as he fumbled with the broom and dust pan. Eddie widened his stance and bent at the waist, reaching down to push the collected debris into the pan.

Alex tensed as Vinnie, a nasty gleam in his eye, leaned back against the wall. Vinnie slowly lifted his right foot and aimed it at Big Eddie's butt. Everything suddenly seemed to be in slow motion as Alex broke from his hiding place and sprinted the short distance across the floor. He tackled Vinnie to the ground just as Vinnie's foot connected with Big Eddie's behind. All three men went sprawling. Big Eddie landed heavily on his knees in the pile of garbage he had been trying to pick up. The manager flew a short distance before hitting the warehouse floor with a thud. He slid into a stack of precariously balanced pallets which spilled noisily across the floor. Alex landed on top of him.

"What the f...?" was all Vinnie had time to shout before Alex landed a solid right hook on his jaw.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alex yelled. He was winding up for another punch when he was dragged off the manager. Adam and Frankie held him back while Donovan leaned over Vinnie and pulled him to his feet. A couple of ladies Alex didn't know were talking to Big Eddie and helping him up. "Always yelling at Big Eddie and treating him like dirt. You oughta be ashamed of yourself." He shook his arms free and looked around. "Did you all see what he just did? He kicked Big Eddie." The rest of the warehouse employees looked at each other and shook their heads.

"We were all in the breakroom, Alex," said Adam. "We just came out 'cause we heard the crash."

There were murmurs of agreement from those standing around. Vinnie, having recovered from the shock of the sudden attack, faced Alex. "You are in a whole heap o' trouble now, buddy! You just wait until I write this up. You are gonna get fired so fast, you're head'll spin."

Alex knew that the upstairs bosses would never believe the word of a brand new employee with a questionable employment record over that of a long time manager who also happened to be the big boss's son. "Don't bother writing up your damned report, Vinnie. I'll save you the trouble. I quit. But you can be sure that I'm going to be letting the folks at the group home know what I saw here today, and someday you're gonna get caught. You better watch your back." He tossed his work gloves to Donovan and headed toward the breakroom. "I'm outta here."

After clocking out for the last time, he stopped by the table where Adam and the rest of the guys were finishing their lunch. "Hey, Adam. Do me a favor? Tell Big Eddie that the red pallets have numbers etched into the sides, but the green ones don't."

That was pretty much the end of the story. The next day, he had called the Frost Lake Group Home and told them what had happened. They had thanked him for the information and said they would talk to Big Eddie. About a week later, he had gotten a threatening letter from the cannery's lawyers basically telling him that there was no evidence to back up his story and if he shared it with anyone else they would sue him for slander. They also made a big deal out of how generous they were being by not charging him with assault. Since he had already made sure that Big Eddie was protected, and he couldn't afford any trouble, he had kept silent about it since then.

- - - - -

"Well, son?" Alex snapped out of his thoughts. Mr. Howard was looking at him oddly. "I asked about what happened at the Marsden Cannery. Anything you want to tell me?"

"All I can say, sir... I mean, Jake, is that I had a difference of opinion with one of the managers there. I let my temper get the best of me and I made some bad choices. You can trust that it won't happen again."

"Hmmm." Mr. Howard looked as though he were going to press the issue, but apparently decided to let it go. "Alright. What about the job before that? What happened at the Cub Foods? The owner, Jeff, is a poker buddy of mine. When I asked he said you seemed to think you only had to show up for work when you felt like it."

Writer's Block

2010-10-16T11:30:00.000-07:00

They say you should write what you know.

What I know is people. I know deep, multi-dimensional, imperfectly perfect people. I see the outer shell that they share with the world, and I feel the inner workings that they strive so hard to conceal. I understand the fears and joys and struggles and celebrations and mistakes and successes that make them who they are, and I love them for all of it.

I know sensitive, intelligent, real life people who may or may not appreciate me writing about what I know.

I have a story in me. I know that I do. I have a tale to tell that will speak to others and evoke emotion. I have a story about people.

And one day, I hope to be able to write well enough to express the beautiful imperfections of my people in a way that clearly shows how their lives have awed and inspired me. That their mistakes are part of what make them so dear to me. In a way that illustrates just how deep my love for them truly is. I want my people to see themselves from my point of view.

Someday, my word magic will be strong enough to tackle this task.

The Visitor - Quick Write 10/5/10

2010-10-05T10:36:00.000-07:00

(25 minutes of writing, 5 minutes of editing. The first half of the first sentence was the prompt.)
- - - -

It was late on a Thursday evening, and Janice was just getting home from the gym. It had been a long and frustrating day. She was exhausted and very much looking forward to putting on her pj's, flopping down on the couch, and communing with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. As she fumbled with the key for the outer door, she noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Resisting her body's initial "fight or flight" reaction, she crouched down on the stoop and peered into the darkness. The dim light above the door was unable to pierce the gloom around the bushes. She couldn't see anything.

"Hello? Is there somebody down there?" Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the key-chain in her hand. If the noise turned out to be something dangerous, she could use a key as a weapon. After several moments of silence, the lure of her cozy apartment overcame her curiosity. She stood up.

There was another brief rustle from bushes, and a tiny orange kitten poked his nose out of the darkness.

"Mreow?" The kitten had clearly been on his own for some time. His ribs were evident along his sides, and the fur on his belly was matted with dirt. His starved body gave him the appearance of a bobble-head doll. "Mew!" Janice knelt down carefully to avoid startling the furry little visitor. She slowly reached her hand out toward him, but resisted actually touching him. The kitten took a quick step backward and huddled closer to the ground.

"Don't worry, little one. I'm not going to hurt you." Janice kept her voice low and calm. The kitten inched toward her, and gently touched one fingertip with his nose. He twitched backward slightly, but held his ground. "Aren't you a brave, little sweetheart?" Janice continued to croon to the kitten until he decided she was safe. Suddenly, he threw his entire body against her hand. He rubbed his bobbley head against her fingers. Looking up, he opened his tiny mouth. "Mew! Mreow! Mew!" She could see his pink tongue and sharp little baby teeth.

Janice swooped the kitten up in her hands and snuggled him to her face. His whiskers tickled her chin as he nuzzled her neck enthusiastically. "Poor baby! You must be starving! Let's go inside and get you some yummy milk. Then we can give you a nice bath and get you all cleaned up." The kitten began to purr loudly in agreement with this plan. Janice retrieved her keys and gym bag from the steps where she had dropped them and opened the door. "What are we going to call you? Such a handsome, orange kitty needs a good name! Hmm... maybe Rex or..." As she and the kitten disappeared into the golden light of the entryway, her voice faded away.

Suddenly Janice was feeling a lot better about her day.

- - - -
I made a conscious effort to write a positive, upbeat story today. I also made an attempt at having a clear beginning, middle, and end. I really enjoy these quick writes, but I think they allow me to get away with lots of build up (something that comes easy to me) while completely avoiding any kind of climax (something that is very difficult for me). These exercises are supposed to be helping me develop my writing, so I'm going to try to make myself stretch a little more in the future. Of course, Mikey says I should just take a page from Stephen King's book and have a giant spider come in and attack everyone. (Has anyone else noticed that a large percentage of his stories end that way?) :)

Billy's Escape - Quick Write 10/4/10

2010-10-04T13:41:00.000-07:00

(As usual, the first sentence was the prompt, and I spent about 20 minutes writing and 5 minutes editing afterward.)
- - - -

The poison was coursing through the tall man's veins. He look at Billy in shock and swayed slightly from side to side. The spent syringe fell from Billy's numb fingers. The clatter it made echoed through the cold, concrete room.

Time stood still for an eternity.

Finally, the tall man reached out his right arm and tried to take a step toward Billy. His left leg gave way, and he crumpled to the floor, his arm still outstretched. Billy stared down at the long, lifeless body that for so long had controlled his entire world. He knew he should run, get away, put as much distance between himself and the brutal events of this place as he could, but his feet refused to move. The tall man seemed to be controlling him still. Billy felt as though he would be frozen here, next to the tall man's body, forever. Eventually, the tall man would be missed - at work, if not at home - and the police would be called. They would find Billy here, discover what he had done, and lock him away in a deep, dark cell forever. Just like the tall man had always said would happen.

"NO!" Billy jumped at the sound of his own voice shattering the unnatural stillness. That slight movement was enough to break the tall man's hold on him. He had been through too much to give up now. With his own shout still echoing after him, Billy turned and fled.

Daylight was just beginning to fade as Billy burst through the entrance of the building. He glanced around without slowing and veered off to the right. He circled around the enormous building and lost himself among the abandoned junkyard, boarded up metal shops, and dimly lit warehouses that were so prevalent in this area. He ran until he thought his lungs would burst.

Just when he thought he couldn't force his legs to take another step, he spotted a familiar corner. Within minutes, he was climbing the rusted chain-link fence surrounding the old, forgotten playground where he had so often sought refuge from the tall man's temper. He climbed up the ladder of the splintered climbing equipment. Panting in equal parts exhaustion and relief, he threw himself into the nest of newspapers and leaves he had so long ago made for himself at the top of the slide.

No one ever came to this park. Billy figured that everyone had forgotten all about it as the industrial park had slowly devoured the housing tracts that used to occupy these blocks. Comforted by the isolation and lulled by the hum and rumble of the few factories that were still struggling against their inevitable demise, Billy closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
- - - -

I'm starting to think that I spent too much time in my youth reading Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Every story starter seems to suggest horrific events and terrifying people. I am glad I don't have to write the rest of this story because I am afraid to find out what horrors the tall man inflicted on our poor Billy.

How They Met - Quick Write 9/30/10

2010-09-30T08:56:00.000-07:00

(I did my writing bright and early this morning! The first sentence was the prompt and I gave myself 20 minutes.)
- - - -
The old man walked along the long slow curve of the highway, whistling to himself. Thunder rumbling in the distance warned of a coming storm. Somewhere in the miles ahead, he'd have to find some shelter, but for now he was content to make his way slowly on, his worldly possessions safely tucked away in the worn, old army green rucksack he had slung over his shoulder. He half-heartedly stuck out his thumb as cars zoomed past.

"Nobody stops for hitchhikers anymore," he thought to himself. "It's a sad state of affairs when everyone is too darn concerned with their own busy lives to worry about an old man walkin' along the road by his lonesome." He shook his head sadly and continued on his way.

His faith in humanity was restored, at least temporarily, when a light blue Mazda with Nevada plates pulled over to the shoulder just ahead of him. He jogged up to the passenger side door and peered inside. A skinny kid, dressed entirely in black, peered over his sunglasses and grinned.

"Hey, man. You need a lift?" The old man smiled back gratefully.

"Like peanut butter needs jelly!" he said. "Mind if I throw my rucksack in back there? I swear it gets heavier with each mile." He tossed his rucksack behind him and settled into his seat. "So. Where we headed, son?"

The kid laughed. "I thought maybe you would know. I've kinda run out of people who will answer my calls, y'know? I was drivin' along wondering what I would do, where I would go, when I saw you with your thumb out. I thought that I'd see where you needed to go and head there myself."

"Well, now. I guess between the two of us, we can make a plan of some kind," the old man replied. "I've always wanted to try my luck at deep sea fishing. Whaddaya say we head toward the Gulf and see if we can find us a fishin' boat that will take us in for a spell?"
- - - -
This story turned out much friendlier than I was expecting. When I first saw that old guy walking along, I was sure that he was going to get picked up by a serial killer. Or end up being a serial killer himself. You can see that in the "at least temporarily" bit I threw in. Thought I was giving a little foreshadowing, but it turns out they're both just normal guys who are down on their luck. Who woulda guessed? Also - dialogue is fun! :)

Going Home - Quick Write 9/29/10

2010-09-29T21:39:00.000-07:00

(I didn't do my quick write until after work today, and I can feel the difference in my focus and creativity. Gonna have to make sure I do my writing in the morning from now on.)

- - - -

I hadn't seen Jackie in twenty years, yet there she sat.
"Girl, you are a sight for sore eyes!" she said as she engulfed me in a bear hug. "Where have you been keeping yourself? What are you up to? Sit down here and let me take a good look at you!" Setting her knitting aside, Jackie thumped the cushion next to her.

She looked just like I remembered. Her curly, black hair drifted loosely around her plump face as she gazed up at me. Her fingers sparkled with several gaudy gemstone-filled rings - probably all paste unless she had made some dramatic changes to her income lately - and any number of chains in varying sizes and styles encircled her comfortable neck. Her housedress was a grass green field scattered with tiny pink roses. I could picture her standing on the front stoop, calling me in for supper, in this very same pattern, although it seemed that the field had increased some in acreage over the years. Her feet, clad in matching green slippers, were tucked demurely under the edge of the loveseat. She was such a perfect match for my fondest memories that I wanted to climb into her lap and rummage through the pockets of her housedress for hard candies as I had when I was 5 years old.

"Well, what are you waiting for, dear?" she asked. "Come over here and tell ol' Jackie what's what in your life." After everything that had happened, I was finally home. I realized I was finally back where it was safe to let down my hair, open my heart, and reveal my sorrows. I didn't need another invitation.

"Oh, Jackie!" I wailed, throwing myself into the empty seat next to her. "I just don't know what I'm going to do!"

- - - -

I thought this was a great beginning sentence, but it took me most of my 20 minutes to figure out who Jackie was talking to. That's why so much of this writing is focused on Jackie's appearance. That was my way of stalling until the other character decided to reveal herself. I have no idea what the dramatics are about... kinda curious about that, actually.

Tabby Goes Out - Quick Write 9/28/10

2010-09-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

(The first sentence was provided as a writing prompt. The rest was written in about 25 minutes with about 5 minutes of editing/rewriting following. Again, my goal is quantity, not quality at this point.)
- - - -
Carl was his name, and sailing was his game. At least, that's what he told anyone who asked. In reality, he worked in the little booth at the end of the pier where tourists could book whale watching tours and rent those ridiculous yellow paddle-boats by the half hour. Tabby's friends either didn't realize this, or they figured that she was more likely to go out with him if they didn't tell her. She was betting on the latter. They were always telling her that she was too picky, although she preferred to think of herself as discerning.

He showed up at the door flourishing a handful of slightly wilted daisies. Daisies were Tabby's favorite flower (apparently her friends had no qualms about sharing her secrets with him), so this would have worked in his favor, except that she recognized them as being hastily pulled from the flowerbed of her neighbor 3 doors down. Mrs. Granger was going to be ticked! Tabby, not wanting to start the date out on a sour note, thanked him, put the flowers in a vase, and made a mental note to send Mrs. Granger an apology. She grabbed a light jacket and followed him down the step.

Things only got worse from there. Carl's vehicle was less a "car" and more a "pile of rust trained to take car shape". Tabby could feel the evening air swirling up through the holes in the floorboards. She tried desperately to stop her brain from picturing all the ways this car could kill them on the short ride to the theater: failing brakes, poisonous fumes, just plain falling to pieces as they scooted along at top speed (which, thankfully, was about 45 mph). As Carl awkwardly tried to parallel park in a spot that wasn't quite big enough, Tabby realized she had been holding onto the door handle so tightly her hand hurt. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She took a couple of calming breaths as he walked around to her side.

She waited for him to wrestle her door open, and they walked toward the theater. Her heart sank when she saw the movies listed on the marquee. There were 2 children's cartoons, a horror flick, and a documentary about the indigenous peoples of South America. Which of these gems was this guy going to pick for their very first (blind!) date? She quickly scanned the board, looking for the shortest movie. That way if he asked her opinion, she'd have a reason for picking one.

Carl didn't ask her opinion, though. He sauntered up to the little window and purchased two tickets for the documentary. At least there was the chance she'd learn about some South American dart poisons. Then she'd have a way of dealing with her friends at work tomorrow. Tabby found a couple of only slightly crooked seats together (near the emergency exit) and settled in. She was trying to ignore the way her new pumps were sticking to the floor when Carl returned from the concession stand. "It was much cheaper to buy one extra large soda and popcorn rather than getting 2 mediums of each," he said. "I didn't think you'd mind." He grinned at her and held out a glistening tub of popcorn as big as her head.

Tabby sighed. It was going to be a long night.
- - - -

I was totally freaked out by this beginning sentence because I don't know the first thing about sailing. Suddenly, I realized that Carl was just as ignorant about sailing (and apparently women) as I am. I kind of thought this was going to turn into a romantic comedy, but something tells me that these two aren't going to have a second date. :)

Bob's Brain - Quick Write 9/27/10

2010-09-27T10:08:00.000-07:00

(This is what came of a 20 minute quick write. The highlighted portion was my starting prompt. I did minimal editing afterward, as I am mostly working on increasing productivity at this point.)
- - - -
The neurologist pointed him into his office. Bob slouched past him and threw himself into the same overstuffed chair as always. Every Tuesday was the same. He plopped his steel-toed boots up on the coffee table on top of the same old scuff marks and tilted his head back. The same water stain, rust colored and shaped like a horse's head, gazed calmly down at him. Just like always, he fought the urge to grab the uniformly sharpened pencils out of the doctor's pencil jar and fling them, one by one, at the little white spot that marked the horse's eye. He closed his own eyes and took a deep breath.

"So, they tell me you're having a hard time this week, Bob," Dr. Pritchard said. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Bob opened his eyes just enough to peek at the doctor. The view was hazy, and his eyelashes looked as thick as tree trunks. He imagined the doctor lost in a darkening, fog-covered forest. He pictured a cloud of insects hovering over a shallow puddle. Moisture collected on the leaves overhead before dripping onto the forest floor. A gentle breeze swirled the fog, and a single bird call pierced the silence. The snap of a branch underfoot was the only indicator of the wild things that crept closer and closer...

"Well?" the doctor's voice snapped Bob back to the cluttered office and the overstuffed chair. "You know, you're going to have to talk to me eventually, Bob."
- - - -
As always, your comments and constructive criticisms are encouraged. I always work harder when I have an audience. :) Personally, I think I may have gone a little overboard in trying to show the repetition Bob was feeling. I am happy with the imagery of the forest, though.

Good Grief

2010-03-16T22:17:00.000-07:00

I would love to be telling you about all the emotional and spiritual growth that has happened in my brain recently, but I can't because there is no time and when there is time I am too tired to stop my sentences from running on and taking over the world.

I would also love to finish the really, really, really long post that is only about 1/3 of the way written about Mia, how she came into my life, and her recent adventures. See above excuse.

I have approximately 11 minutes before my brain turns into a pumpkin, so here's the highlights...

1. Mia is still healing wonderfully. So wonderfully, that she thinks she's all better and should be allowed to wander unsupervised all over the house in search of cats and garbage cans. These are magical Inside Things that she has never before had the pleasure of experiencing.

2. My car is STILL in the shop, although the guy swears it will be ready tomorrow. Or the next day. It has been nearly a month (honestly, I don't even remember when we started this adventure), and I blame the car (not the guy) for the on-going troubles. She's one ornery little automobile.

3. We had a rental car for a while, but it wasn't worth the $12/day insurance we were paying to make sure we weren't blamed for the mud, dog scratches, etc. I don't think I'd buy a Sebring. It had get-up-and-go, but I don't think the designers had ever had to drive a car. The blind spots were enormous.

4. Mikey had to report to the Murrieta courthouse for jury duty last week and narrowly missed being placed on a murder/child abuse case. FYI - living off two not-quite-1/2 incomes, having a sick dog at home, and ridiculously large vet bills is enough to get the judge to excuse you for financial hardship.

5. I have a cough that I can feel in my lungs, and I'm not at all surprised. After the insane couple of weeks I'm surprised I didn't get sick earlier. Let's just hope it passes quickly.

6. Mikey's business has been taking off like wildfire this month. I'm insanely proud of him. Go to Hamumu.com and check out his games. They are very good.

That's not all, but my brain turned into a pumpkin 3 minutes ago. Time for bed. 'Nighty-night.

I Love Love.

2010-02-18T23:15:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day had me thinking about love. Thinking about love led to thinking about past loves. Thinking about past loves led to thinking about the things I have learned about love over the years. And you know I love to share what I've learned...

My first love was also my best friend from kindergarten through elementary school. It was a love built around pulling pig-tails, playing King of the Hill, and being in the same class year after year. From this love I learned:

Drama is a waste of time. Say what you mean. Mean what you say.
Love is worth the risk of cooties.
Boys can be sensitive. Sometimes you have to let them win.
Loyalty is important.

My junior high love was a love of firsts. First love letter. First date. First dance. First kiss. First break-up. This love was exciting and new. It was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time. Eventually, my insecurities got the better of me. From this love I learned:

Love is about sharing. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your science homework.
Even the toughest guys are afraid of something.
Nothing smells as good as your boyfriend's jacket.
Picking a 3 hour drama for your first movie date is a mistake.
Giving your friends too much influence over your relationships is a bigger mistake.
Those 80's movies starring people like Molly Ringwald and John Cusack in which couples break up over misunderstandings but then end up back together as the music swells at the end of a montage showing how miserable they were apart are a bunch of crap. Romantic, misleading crap.

One of my high school loves was a long, drawn out, on again - off again affair while the other was largely confined to my own head. In the first, I reveled in the feeling of being pursued and desired despite being ambivalent about the relationship myself. In the second, I fruitlessly longed for a friend to realize that we were perfect for each other. From these loves I learned:

Balance is essential in a relationship.
Pity is not a good reason to be with someone. Nor is it a good reason for someone to be with you.
What comes around, goes around.
Love can make you act like a crazy person in a great many ways, all of them embarrassing to think about after the fact.

In college, I was sure I had found the love of my life. We had so much in common. We liked the same food and the same music and the same goals. We were perfect together. Except, under these surface commonalities we had very little in common. I was traveling through life on a freeway toward a well-mapped location, and he was traveling on a winding, overgrown path to destinations unknown. I needed organization, plans, and focus while he needed freedom and the unexpected. I was learning to appreciate my new-found responsibilities while he was learning to appreciate the newly hired girl at work. From this love I learned:

There are still some true romantics out there.
Sometimes good things come to an end.
From the inside a relationship looks very different than it does from the outside.
It isn't called compromise if one person is making all the sacrifices.
Loyalty is REALLY important.
I am a hell of a lot stronger than my high school self would ever have guessed.

Shortly before moving to California, I met my husband. I could use up all of the space on the internet telling you how wonderful he is, but I'll save that for another post. Let me summarize by saying that from this love I have learned:

The difference between "a love" and "The Love" is immediately obvious.
It is possible to know you are in love with someone without ever having seen their face.
Keeping two completely different people, each with their own backgrounds and personalities and issues, rowing together smoothly isn't impossible, but it takes a whole lot of practice.

It is now long past my bedtime, so I am going to stop trying to come up with an appropriate conclusion and just end this. Ain't love grand?

Siblings, part 3

2010-02-17T13:22:00.000-08:00

*So it turns out that knowing where you want a story to go and getting it to go there are two very different things. This is what I got from about an hour of very distracted writing. Meh.*

Chapter 2

They drove in silence. Sam wasn't sure if his mother's silence was because she was wrapped up in her own thoughts or out of respect for his own, but he was grateful for it either way. He stared out the window, watching the lights from the equalizer reflected in the glass. As the the green and red dots darted along the dirty snowbanks lining the narrow streets, Sam remembered how Karen always used to pretend those lights were her Guardian Fairies, pacing the family car the way the Secret Service would pace the president. “Nothing bad can happen to us while my Fairies are out there,” Karen would say. Sam sighed. “At what point in my life did the Fairies stop paying attention?” he wondered.

Looking back, it seemed that his college years had been just as pleasantly uneventful as his childhood. Very little drama or tragedy, just one normal day following another. In those days he could answer the phone fearlessly.

(to be continued)

Sophia Sisters

2010-02-15T19:03:00.000-08:00

I have shared just about everything I am about to write with pretty much every living being who has crossed my path since August, but I want to document it here for my own sake.

My extended family is, well, quite extensive. I come from several pretty long lines of pretty amazing people. And I say that with absolutely no bias what-so-ever. :) This past August, I lost one of my beloved aunts after a lengthy battle with cancer. Her name was Kate, and she was my father's youngest sister. Even as a child, she was the kind of person who went out of her way for others. I have heard stories of her coming home from school, baking cookies, and handing them out to local homeless people. She was the person who would double back on a crowded freeway in a snow storm on Christmas Eve to help complete strangers. Even while battling her own illness, she was the embodiment of the Prayer of St. Francis:

Oh, Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,

While saying my last goodbyes to Kate, I had the opportunity to see how her kindnesses were returned to her ten-fold. One of the things Aunt Kate did as she faced her own mortality was to gather a group of like-minded women for regular meetings during which they would talk about life, family, spirituality, and all the other things that are important. They called themselves the Sophia Sisters (sophia being the Greek word for wisdom), and Kate's sisters were there for her though everything. This group of women (along with their families) made sure Kate and her family had hot meals, renovated her kitchen, and made sure the planters on the front stoop were filled with beautiful flowers to greet her many visitors.

Although I learned a remarkable number of things during that difficult week, there was one thing I couldn't stop thinking about. Kate was surrounded by love during her most trying times for two very important reasons:
1. She cared openly about the individuals she came across on a daily basis. She wasn't afraid to wear her heart right out on her sleeve. She didn't shy away from the risks involved in relationships.
2. She made an intentional effort to strengthen the connections she had made. She took the time to reach out.

Upon returning home, I couldn't stop thinking about Kate and the way she lived her life. I have never been good at socializing. Although my close friends might describe me as gregarious, I am painfully uncomfortable around people until I get to know them. I enjoy talking on the phone, but hate making phone calls because I am sure that my call is interrupting something more important. I tend to wait for others to reach out to me, whether to begin a relationship or to maintain it. Genetically, I am predisposed to live "in the moment". Like my father, my mother, and much of my extended family, I tend to forget about holidays and important events until they are happening. Even though I am often thinking of my family, I fail to follow through on providing evidence (sending cards, making phone calls, etc) of such thoughts on a regular basis.

Because of these traits, it has always taken me a long time to develop meaningful relationships. The connections I manage to make are often woefully neglected whenever distance becomes involved. Although I would count just about all of the 70-some students who went to high school with me as "friends", there were only a handful who knew the real me, and I haven't seen a single one of them in almost 15 years. In 4 years of college, I managed to cultivate exactly ONE lasting friendship (and even that was only renewed recently thanks to FaceBook). I have lived in the Temecula area for nearly a decade, and until this past year I could count the people who had made it past the "acquaintance" stage on one hand. I would watch movies about friendships that spanned lifetimes and wish that I could be so lucky. I longed to belong to a group with all my heart and eagerly awaited the day when that group would magically appear.

Watching Kate's Sophia Sisters come together for Kate and family, I realized that I was waiting for something that wasn't going to just happen. The beautiful, meaningful relationships that surrounded her and supported her weren't the result of sitting around wishing for something to happen. Kate built them, slowly and carefully, just as her father, a carpenter, built spiral staircases. With empathy and honesty as her hammer and nail, she could turn the briefest of encounters into a lasting friendship. If I wanted to have what Kate had, I was going to have to pick up my own tools and put them to use.
I have challenged myself to consciously create more meaningful connections to those in my life. One way I am doing this is by working harder to recognize important events in the lives of others. I am trying to send birthday cards on time, make phone calls more regularly, and provide tangible evidence of my feelings for friends and family. The other thing I did was to call up some of the wonderful women I am surrounded by and create my own Sophia Sisters group. We meet on a monthly basis with the intention of create a support system for ourselves while collectively working to support the less fortunate our community. These intentional efforts at empathy and openness are already paying off. As I am honest and caring with those I meet, others are becoming more honest and caring toward me.

I'm going to wrap this up now, because I know that I am rambling... My thoughts on this topic tumble over one another like puppies outgrowing their birthing box, and consequently my words do the same. I could save this and put it away in the draft folder to revisit another day, but I am more interested in getting my thoughts out than in making them perfect. So, I will resist the urge to re-read this yet another time. Instead I will leave you with a message that came to me via a student this evening and seems to fit the mood of this post perfectly:

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be formed, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

~ A Noiseless Patient Spider, by Walt Whitman

Dear Giant Corporate Competitors,

2010-02-02T15:09:00.000-08:00

I had a 30 minute telephone conversation with a prospective client today, and at it's conclusion this parent made a comment that was something of a revelation to me. "I'm looking forward to starting. Just talking to you has made me feel so much better. It wasn't like this after talking to *Big Name Company*. Thank you."

I suddenly realized that it's not my ridiculously low prices that make parents decide to come to my tiny little business. The majority of parents are going to do what it takes to get help their child, and if that means paying $50/hr, so be it. It's not the advertising we do or our semi-successful attempts at looking like professionals, either. Parents trust the recommendations of friends and teachers over fancy fliers and color coordinated furniture sets. It can't be our experience or academic knowledge that does it, although we have plenty of both. I know you have the budget to hire as many qualified teachers as you can get your hands on. There is one thing, and one thing alone, that makes us stand out from the crowd.

When parents call to us, they are treated as one-of-a-kind rather than one-in-a-million. When I answer my phone, I am 100% focused on what they need and how I can help them get it. I listen to their situations, and I validate their emotions. They hang up knowing that their fears and frustrations have been heard and that they have a new ally in the fight to overcome them. In short, I give my concerned parents the same personalized attention that I plan on giving their kids.

It is amazing how immediately parents respond to this. Our entire relationship is built on the foundation laid in that first interaction. From that point on, my parents know that I am going to do my best for their children. They know they can trust me to treat their children with respect and understanding. This relationship of trust means that I can raise the level of expectation. Even when I'm asking them to make difficult changes or try challenging new things, my families trust me. They know that my praise is honest and my concerns are legitimate. We all work harder for each other and my kids progress faster as a result.

I am grateful for your business-oriented environments and your factory model approach to teaching because it makes my little company look even better by comparison. I would have to work much harder to stand out if the rest of you were to realize that parents aren't looking for more of the same old thing. They need something different, and thanks to you, I'm one of the few providing it.

Some day, Escuela del Sol will be a household name. And on that day, I will remember the phone conversation I had today, and I will continue to make every single family feel as if they are my only clients.

Sincerely,
Sol

True Story

2010-02-01T22:02:00.000-08:00

Hubby: I'm going to go read the words of my book in order.
Me: What order? Alphabetical?
Hubby: Probably left to right following the page numbers. Alphabetical might be challenging.
Me: How boring.
Hubby: It would take a long time to get ready for that. You'd have to go through the whole book first.
Me: Yeah. The first several words woul be "A", "A", "A", "A", "a", "a", "a", "an"...
Hubby: It wouldn't go to "an". There would be words like "about". And "abate".
Me: Really? You think you'd find the word "abate"?
Hubby: I wouldn't be surprised.
Me: I don't think "abate" is in that book*.
Hubby: Now I'm going to search the whole book just to prove that "abate" is in it.
Me: I dare you.
Hubby: I will find it. I'm a master-abater.
Me: I'm so blogging that.

*He's reading Under the Dome by Stephen King, in case you were wondering. He has requested that you post the page number if you happen to find the word "abate" in that illustrious text.

**Update**
As I have been writing this, he has been reading and announcing each "a" word he finds. "Affairs." "Almighty." "Ability." "Acting." My husband amuses me so.

Siblings, part 2

2010-01-31T12:19:00.000-08:00

A couple of notes first:
- I have changed the main characters name to Sam. I was torn between Tom and Sam in the beginning. I decided on Sam originally, but because I was writing on my tiny iPhone screen in the middle of the night, my sleep deprived brain switched part way through. Anyway. It's been changed to Sam.
- I have given it a (lame) working title so that I don't have to keep calling it "Story".
- You can find part 1 here.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam gathered his sweatshirt and his backpack as the plane taxied toward the gate. He powered up his cell phone as he joined the slow rush to the front of the plane. Up the jet-way, through the halls, across the lobby, down the escalator, through the sliding glass doors and past the cluster of bundled mid-westerners waiting patiently for their loved ones to appear. Since moving to California a decade ago, Sam had followed this path dozens of times. It always felt like coming home.

After grabbing his single piece of luggage from the carousel, Sam found a quiet corner and checked his phone. He wasn't surprised to find a message from his mother.

“Sam, honey, I'm going to be a little bit late. The traffic must be bad today. I left right at 3 o'clock, but I'm still about 20 minutes away. I'm sorry. I'll be there soon. Start thinking about where you want to go for dinner. Love you.” Sam checked his watch with a sigh. 4:36. If Mom said she was 20 minutes away, it was surely more like 30.

waiting inside. call when you get here. He sent the text to his mother and flipped his phone shut. It didn't make any sense to stand out in the cold waiting. He didn't see any open chairs, so he sat on the floor, propped up against his suitcase. He leaned his head back against the wall and idly watched the stream of people trickle by.

In his travels, Sam had come to realize that although people were largely the same everywhere, it was the details that set the regions apart. He figured he could identify the airports he frequented most often just by observing the beings who populated it. Vegas had the college kids and the retirees, both equally enthralled by the siren call of the slots. Denver had scuffed cowboy boots and worn jeans, much like Houston, but without the barely concealed defiance of the Lone Star State. Los Angeles had the movie stars, both real and imagined, shielded from the masses by their wrap around shades and their Ugg boots. But it was in Minneapolis where Sam found his people. There was something about these folks with their Scandi-who-vian stoicism and their flannel-lined barn jackets that resonated with him, no matter how long he was away.

One little girl, perhaps 3 years old, caught Sam's eye. She leaned forward slightly as she clung to the hand of the woman next to her. Her eyes were riveted on the top of the escalator. Although she stood perfectly still, the air around her seemed to crackle with potential energy. A man in a tan overcoat appeared at the top of the escalator, and she exploded into motion. “Dad-dy! Dad-dy! Dad-dy!” she chanted as she raced circles around the woman's legs. Perhaps it was the little girl's long, dark hair, or maybe it was her enthusiasm, but something about this little firecracker made him think of his sister.

As a small child, Karen could dominate any room. In a family of tow-heads, her dark, eastern European looks drew you in, but it was the radiance of her personality that captivated. Thick eye-lashes framed eyes that sparkled with untold jokes, and ruby lips curled into a perpetual grin. Her sturdy toddler limbs never ceased their quest for adventure. Even in sleep she moved endlessly, flailing her limbs in response to dream stimuli. Sam remembered being exhausted following afternoons of "baby-wrangling" while his parents worked in the garden.

Sam was startled from his reverie by the buzz of his cell phone. “Hi, Mom,” he said. “Where are you?” He gathered his bags and headed toward the exit. An icy breeze swept over him as he stepped through the sliding glass doors.

“Hi, Sammy. I'm just pulling into the pick-up loop. Are you ready? 'Cuz you know how much I hate it when those security guys wave their flashlights at me.”

“Yeah, Mom. I'm ready.” He bit his tongue to stop himself from commenting on exactly how long he'd been ready. “Look for me at baggage claim 2. Are you in the Tahoe?”

“Of course, sweetie. What else would I be driving? Oh! I see you!” The line went dead in his ear as a maroon Tahoe pulled up to the curb in front of him. He waved to his mother through the windshield and opened the door to throw his bags into the back seat. He climbed into the passenger seat and leaned over to give his mother an awkward hug over the center console.

“I'm so glad you're here, Sam. I don't know what I'd do without you.” His mother held on to him for an extra beat and then let go abruptly. She grabbed the steering wheel and turned to check her blind-spot, but not before he noticed that she seemed to be blinking back tears.

“Well.” She said, emphatically. “So, are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Sam said. “What do you feel like?”

“What about that Italian place I told you about? Some of the girls at work were raving about it again yesterday.” His mom paused. “But we'll need to make a quick stop first. I asked Karen to join us for dinner.”

The knot in Sam's stomach pulled just a little tighter.

(to be continued)

Obama in Baltimore: Gut Reaction

2010-01-30T16:07:00.000-08:00

1. Maybe it's just because it was so painful to listen to Bush, but I love listening to Obama's speeches.

2. I have heard lots of people either celebrating or freaking out over the "smack down" that was delivered at that conference. I'm sorry, but I don't see it. Sure, I was impressed by the way Obama stood in front that whole group and attempted to answer their questions. Given today's political climate, I have to imagine that took some guts. But he didn't seem overly confrontational or aggressive to me. I dunno. I guess I was expecting more after the hype.

3. That being said, I LOVED this line (and it could be applied to congressional members on both sides):
"We have to close the gap between rhetoric and reality."
He spoke about political leaders' habits of "demonizing the other side". That demonization is exactly why I can't have a political conversation with my father-in-law. His understanding of what is going on has been so colored by rhetoric and talking points that it's impossible to find the real issue underneath it all. And I'm sure he thinks the same about my point of view. We're just a specific example of what is happening on a national level, and nothing is going to get done unless we can overcome that obstacle.

One last comment:
Toward the end of the speech one of the audience members interrupted with "You're lying to us now." (or something close to that...) Seriously, guys. Don't you remember the uproar that happened the last time one of you did that? Not only are you setting yourself up for another media spanking, it just makes you seem like you have the self-control of a toddler. C'mon. Grow up.

Watch the video or read the complete transcript for yourself.

Story, Pt 1

2010-01-27T23:31:00.000-08:00

"Excuse me, sir," the flight attendant said apologetically, "but you're going to have to turn off your laptop for landing."

Tom glanced up from his computer. "What? Oh, sure. Sorry. Just... one second..." His words trailed off as he resumed typing.

"Sir. I really must insist that you turn your computer off immediately. The captain has already begun his descent." The flight attendant's voice held the slightest hint of frost now. "Tray tables and seat backs should already be returned to their fully upright positions and..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Tray tables. Seat backs. Carry ons. I'm on it." Tom hit the save button one last time and clicked the laptop closed. After tucking his computer safely into its case and stowing it dutifully under the seat in front of him, he leaned back against his fully upright seat back and looked out the window. Here and there, wide expanses of white had replaced the lakes that dotted the landscape in warmer months. "You could almost believe there really are 10,000," he thought to himself.

In the deepening gloom, I-35 sparkled with diamonds on one side and rubies on the other. He wondered if one of those diamonds was his mother, on her way to meet him at the airport. Knowing her, it was much more likely that she was still 30 minutes away, and he would have plenty of time to deplane, collect his luggage, and freeze nearly to death while he waited. She just couldn't seem to remember that it took 2 full hours to get to the airport from home, and he couldn't seem to remember to pack a warm enough coat for waiting comfortably. This was why he preferred to visit during the summer months.

The landing gear rumbled below as the ground rushed up to meet them. The voice on the overhead speakers ran through the usual litany of connecting gates and formulaic thanks, but Tom barely heard it. Despite having his glorified word processor banished to safe storage, he was once again consumed with his composition. "The counselor said to keep it short," he reminded himself. "Use 'I' statements. Be specific."

As he tried to recall what he had already written, the lump returned to his throat. Fear again threatened to overwhelm him, just as it had when he'd hung up after the first of a series of increasingly desperate phone calls from his mother. "Please just let her be okay," he muttered under his breath. "She's the only sister I've got."

Tom gathered his sweatshirt and his backpack as the plane taxied toward the gate. He powered his cell phone on as he joined the slow rush to the front of the plane.

(to be continued)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Open Letter to the Universe

2010-01-25T23:03:00.001-08:00

Dear Universe,

Each morning for the past week I have awoken physically refreshed but mentally exhausted. My dreams have been long, mundane, and repetitive. In one, I spent hours digging through my closet trying to find the right outfit for some occasion. In another I was trying to complete a series of simple chores that just wouldn't get/stay done. The sun comes up, the alarm goes off, and I feel like I need a nap before I've even gotten out of bed.

I'm sure that these mildly anxious dreams are a product of the mildly increased stress in my life over the past couple of weeks. I know they are my mind's way of blowing off steam. But I've gotta tell you, it's NOT helping.

So, dear Universe, I am making this humble request of you... Could I please, please, please have a confidence building dream one of these nights? A dream in which a beloved family member comes to me with words of praise or encouragement? Or perhaps a dream in which I successfully accomplish my task on the first try? I'd even settle for a dream in which my teeth stayed in my mouth, my eyes opened on command, or my clothes stayed on my body as I walked on stage to perform in a play for which I was fully prepared. Any one of these things would be quite welcome.

I thank you in advance, dear Universe, for giving me a break and sending a dream that leaves me looking forward to my day.

Sincerely,
Sol

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Conversations with Firefox

2010-01-19T19:50:00.001-08:00

Me: I heart you, Firefox. You're much better than Explorer! <3

FF: Yeah, I'm great. In fact, here's an update!

Me: Super.

Update is downloaded. Time passes.

Me: Thanks for your help, Firefox. You can close now. *clicking the X*

FF: OMG! Something is wrong! Firefox has closed!

Me: No, no. It's okay. I clicked...

FF: OMG!!1!! What should we do??

Me: No, really. I wad done...

FF: Do you want to sent an error report??

Me: ...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Post MLK, Jr. Day Post

2010-01-19T16:07:00.000-08:00

I can't help but wonder if kids today question why adults make such a big freakin' deal about skin color. They have grown up in a much more accepting and blended world. Their friends are different colors and nationalities. Their experiences are much more varied than ours ever were. Thanks to today's far-reaching media, they have been exposed to cultures and beliefs from around the world during those early, formative years when "normal" is defined.

Don't get me wrong. I know that there is still plenty of hatred and racism out there. I know that there are still kids being raised (intentionally or otherwise) to fear that which is different from themselves. But if you have LIVED with an open mind from the beginning, instead of having to LEARN it later in life, wouldn't it seem silly to make such a big deal out of open-mindedness?

Please don't take this to mean that I think we should stop celebrating MLK, Jr. or the progress that has been made. I'm just hoping that our remembrances don't stagnate to the point that future generations can't relate to them. We can't spend so much time patting ourselves on the back for not remaining in the past that we forget how much further we have to go in the future. Or something like that.

Thoughts on Being Sick

2010-01-19T15:45:00.000-08:00

I don't get sick very often. I remember being sick a normal amount when I was a kid. Between the germs getting passed around at school and the germs my mom would bring home from the clinic where she worked, I would get the flu or strep throat fairly regularly. As an adult, I have rarely caught anything worse than a mild head cold, despite spending most of my working hours surrounded by miniature germ factories. I have never been paranoid about germs (I HATE that antibacterial hand sanitizer crap), and I honestly think that my willingness to be exposed to them now and again has helped me build up a kick-ass immune system.

That being said, I caught something this past weekend that kicked my butt in a big way. It had some head cold-y like symptoms; sneezing, runny/stuffy nose, watery eyes, but the worst was the complete exhaustion. I had to spend a significant amount of time resting to prepare myself for a walk from the bedroom to the living room. I spent the majority of 4 days doing nothing but lying down. I barely moved at all, thanks to my darling husband and his excellent nursing skills.

I'm feeling much better now (Thanks for asking!). On Monday morning I was able to get up and return to my regular schedule, feeling 100% normal. This leaves me with one question:

How does my body know the difference between me lying around for 4 days sick and me lying around for 4 days because I'm a lazy bum? If I had done that much sitting on the couch voluntarily, my joints and lower back would be in an uproar. If I spend 1 Saturday lounging in front of the TV, my knees complain about it for the rest of the week. But not a single joint had one word to say about my lack of movement while I was sick. What's up with that?

The Curse of Imagination

2010-01-12T21:44:00.000-08:00

I have a pretty active and vivid imagination. Often, like when reading a good book, this is a talent that comes in handy. I have seen many a movie on the big screen of my mind. And those showings are pre-first run, baby!

Unfortunately, the ability to present oneself with a full color, real as life image has its drawbacks. Like when I'm driving and someone does something stupid in front of me. My over-active brain deftly follows the path that DIDN'T happen. You know, the one where the guy didn't pull back into his own lane in time and we crashed head on and my car spun and flipped and ended in the ditch with me pinned... well, you get the idea.

Sometimes, I go with these imaginary images, just to see how I react. What does it feel like? Who do I turn to? What do I do next? It is an interesting study in who I am at any given moment. And what better way to experience these things than in the safety of my own imagination, where I can turn off the images and restore reality with the flick of a switch (once I imagine it into being, of course).

There is one thing, one vision, that sneaks up on me and knocks the wind out of my sails every single time.. One that I can't shut off fast enough. One in which I always fall apart, no variation. That is the alternate reality in which something happens to my husband. My own death, the end of the world, anything is easier for me to imagine than the idea of losing Mike.

Techno-savvy!

2010-01-11T23:14:00.001-08:00

I am blogging from my iPhone! Is there nothing this lovely machine cannot do?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Greatest Lie

2010-01-07T14:48:00.000-08:00

A large group had gathered. The high school students crowded together, jocks next to chess geeks next to stoners, having forgotten, if only for a moment, the sin of mingling with someone of the wrong clique. The woman scanned their faces. Some had already grown bored with the proceedings, their own personal dramas reclaiming their attention. But the ones she had come for, the ones who needed to hear her message, were still watching. She saw confusion, fear, and sympathy in the eyes of a few of the students, but the majority of them still held the defeated, disinterested gaze of people who know that their lives are going to go on, as mind-numbingly monotonous as ever, as soon as this brief interlude was over.

Time was running out. As the guard grabbed her arms, the woman made eye contact with a girl in the crowd. One eye stared back, thickly outlined in black. The other was obscured by a lock of limp, blond hair. The girl was an almost perfect picture of indifference, the only betrayal of emotion her teeth nibbling on her plum-colored lips. The woman struggled against the guard and stretched toward the girl.

"It isn't true," she said. She raked her gaze across this gathered pack of teenagers. She could see frustration and anger swirling around them like a pre-dawn fog. She could smell the insecurities oozing from their pores. She could practically taste the fear that they worked so hard to hide, posing and posturing like strange dogs vying for the alpha position. She struggled harder and raised her voice.

"They will tell you that high school is the best time of your life. It isn't true." The guard renewed his iron grip on her arms and began hauling her toward the door at the end of the hall.

"It gets so much better than this!" she screamed, desperate to connect with as many of these confused, conflicted individuals as she could. "They are lying! It gets so much better!"

The girl with the black eye-liner watched the guard half-pull, half-carry the screaming woman away and turned to the tall boy next to her. "Huh. That was weird."

- - - - - - - -

I am driving to work with my iPod set to shuffle, as usual, when Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" comes on. "And he's plain ugly to me. And I wonder if he's ever had a day of fun in his whole life." Suddenly I am struck by the memory of a dream. It is as vivid in my mind as the asphalt in front of my car. For the remainder of the journey, I compose "The Greatest Lie" in my mind.

I remember being a high schooler, hearing some adult say how much they longed to return to their high school years. "Those were the greatest days," they told me. Although I don't remember the rest of the conversation, I do remember my exact thoughts. "God, I hope not." I am almost 32 years old now, and I have many fond memories of my high school years. But I have never once wished that I was reliving them. To this day, I cringe when I hear people tell teenagers how good they've got it. I tell my students, "You think life is good now, but you just wait. It gets even better."

Uninteresting Entry

2010-01-06T19:24:00.000-08:00

I have nothing of any value to say. You should probably stop reading now.

Still here? Fine, but don't complain to me about the keyboard marks on your face from falling asleep 1/2 way through...

Here we are, midway through the first week of the new year. The new decade*, even. Personally, I can only hope that the rest of the year goes this well. I have managed to stick to my new schedule (about 97% successful), I have eaten healthier foods (not hard since I was starting from "popcorn and jalapeno poppers make a complete meal, right?"), and done some things I'm proud of already. So far, I'm taking names and kickin' butt in twenty ten.

That's what I'm calling it, by the way. "Two thousand, ten" is too clunky. I don't have the time or patience for that many syllables. "Saying 'Aught Ten" makes me feel like I should be wearing a bonnet and churning my own butter. Not to mention the fact that I think it's grammatically wrong. Wouldn't that mean 20010**? So I'm going with the short, sweet, and stunningly accurate "twenty ten". Has a nice solid ring to it, no?

Here's where I am tempted to wax poetically about all the things going on in my life, but since there's no reason why anyone but me would care, and since all I really want is a brief reminder of what was happening when I look back on today through the benefit of eagle-eyed hindsight, I'm going to just to a quick bullet point list and leave it at that.

managed to get the diet back on track - frustrating to have to re-lose all the poundage I lost over the summer, but that's the price you pay for stuffing yourself like a Thanksgiving turkey and a Christmas goose all rolled up into one.
gained even more students on top of the ones we got prior to the break - YAY.
muscled through 3 masters essays - making this a serious priority and actually following through
lined up several fun and exciting socializing events - D's retirement, K's job change, Sophia meeting, and the 4th annual Groundhog's Day extravaganza are all in the works
followed through on my commitment to do good deeds

See? Lots of good. Not much bad. Throwing up lots of gratitude in the direction of the universe and reveling in each minute of Happy while I can. Here's hoping that your year is showering you with goodness, too.

* Screw that "the decade really starts at '01 because of there was no year zero" crap. My relationship with numbers is shaky enough without getting all technical about it. So there.

** Except with the verbiage. Then I'mma get all technical on you. That's just how I roll.

Warning: Rant Ahead...

2009-12-30T12:16:00.000-08:00

First, read this article.

No, really. Go read it. I'll wait.

Second, I am not, nor do I claim to be, a medical doctor or an expert of any kind. I am completely speaking from personal experience and my own (very unscientific) understanding of this topic. So take what I say with a grain or two of salt and a healthy dash of skepticism.

..........

Even though I completely and utterly agree with everything the article says, I am also completely and utterly irritated by it. Yes, ADD/ADHD is over-diagnosed and over-medicated. Yes, children need healthier diets, better sleep habits and more exercise. Yes, families have become too splintered by work/sports/etc schedules, and children have been given too much freedom and forced to take on too much responsibility. (Not the good, character-building, take out the trash and clean your room kind... that's always good. I'm talking about the get yourself off to school in the morning, let yourself in with the key after school, microwave yourself some EZ Mac for dinner, and make sure you put yourself to bed at a reasonable time cuz I have important adult things to do and I'll be home sometime after 11 kind.) YES, relying on medication to "fix" your kid because you are too busy/lazy/disinterested to be a parent is (in my humble, I have no kids so it's easy for me to talk opinion) is a crime.

HOWEVER.

I have known a great number of kids who needed just the tiniest medicinal boost to help them get control over themselves. These are kids who had loving, caring, involved parents who were doing all the right things. They got plenty of sleep, ate healthy food, spent time together as a family, and so on. These kids wanted to do the right thing. They were desperate to please their parents, their teachers, their friends. They wanted to get good grades and finish things they started and stay focused. They just couldn't.

Although there are many things that can cause a child to present with ADD/ADHD-like symptoms - many environmental, some behavioral - I firmly believe that some children have a chemical imbalance in their brains that prevents them from being able to be completely in control, no matter how hard they try. This chemical imbalance is present from birth and when adults tell them to "control themselves" they have NO IDEA what we are talking about. They have never experienced the feeling of being fully in charge (as much as that is possible for anyone) of their own actions/thoughts/emotions.

Medication can help balance the brain chemicals and allow these children to see what being in control feels like. Once they have the ablility to focus, they can be taught various methods of self-control. More importantly, they can be taught how to observe and interpret their own brains. Metacognition - thinking about thinking - is not something you are born with. By helping these children recognize the non-medical things that effect their brains, we can give them the tools to maintain self-control on their own. Medication can sometimes be a way to enable them to reach the point where they no longer need to be medicated. It should NOT be considered the solution to the problem.

My irritation with this article stems from the fact that they are treating the question of medication as if it has one simple answer. As if what is right for one child is right for ALL children. Not only is this bad for children (just take a peek at the NCLB fiasco to know that the "one size fits all" approach doesn't work), but it is bad for parents. Being a parent is hard enough without having people throw headlines like

"Ritalin Linked With 500% Increase
in Sudden Death of Children!!"

at you. Ritalin is not the only (or as far as I can tell the most commonly recommended) ADD/ADHD medication out there any more. Telling parents that the health, well-being, happiness, and future of their child hangs on this one little question might be truthful (after all, don't all choices effect those things one way or another?) but it is terrifying and unnecessary. No one does their best thinking under that kind of stress.
So, let's try a little less hyperbole and a little more reasonable discussion all around* when dealing with the question of helping students with ADD/ADHD (or any learning disability, for that matter). Helping children who have trouble focusing is difficult. There are risks and benefits to any potential solution, whether it is medical or otherwise. Cooperation, understanding, and level-headed behavior is the name of the game. At least, that's what I think.

.......

*Yes, that goes for the teachers who immediately call for medication when 7 year old has a little trouble sitting still and doing what he's told for 6 hours. Can we say "developmentally appropriate behavior" anyone?

Top Dog?

2009-12-30T10:53:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday I took Mia to work with me. She loves going for car rides, is well behaved around other people and in new places, and could use a break from the abuse Wiggles heaps on her all day, every day in an attempt to be the "bigger" dog. Seemed win/win, you know.
I failed to understand the fine line my pups are balancing with regards to their relevant positions in our little world. When Mia and I returned home last night, Wiggles increased her posturing and aggressive behavior. I tried all the tricks I've used in the past: leash work, training sessions, socialization-type things, etc. Things seemed edgy, but better when it came time to put them to bed. Per the usual, Mia and Trooper were in the igloo, and Wiggles was on the blanket (tucked under another blanket cuz the people in our house can't help projecting and anthropomorphizing their pets).
This morning I woke up to the sound of a dog yelping in a most unhappy way. I rushed outside to release them, sure that Wiggles had somehow hurt Mia with her obnoxious one-up-man-ship. I looked her all over, and almost missed the gaping wound on Wiggles' ear. It looks pretty ugly. Blood on the inside and outside make me think someone bit right through it. I've made an appointment to have the vet look at it. Everyone seems to be getting along okay now, although Mia is acting pretty spooked.
We're going to get a second igloo as soon as possible. (We have a second doghouse already, but it's second hand and none of the dogs will go inside it.) Other than that and not ever taking Mia somewhere without Wiggles again, I have no idea how to help them work this out. All I know is that I am tired of dealing with it.

UPDATE:
I swear our vet thinks we're idiots.
.....
As he began to examine Wiggles, he looked inside her ear.
"Is this the injury?" He points to the miniscule wound you can see from that side. I can tell he is wondering why the hell we bothered him with this injury he can barely see. I lean in.
"Yes, that's part of it. But I'm more worried about..."
As I am speaking he turns the ear over and notices the inch long chunk of fur and skin missing.
"Oh! This is definitely going to need sutures," he says to his assistant as if one of us had disagreed with him. I bite my tongue to stop myself from making some inappropriate, albeit probably very witty, remark.
.....
We ended up signing the anesthesia forms and leaving her to have her ear stitched up. Poor baby is going to be be all wobbly instead of wiggly when we pick her up at 4:00.

More Goals...

2009-12-29T14:10:00.000-08:00

Work Goal #2 - Productivity
Baseline - I enjoy being at Escuela del Sol and doing business related things, but I waste a lot of time there. I get distracted by personal things: doing my nails, watching TV, or knitting.
Goal - I will create a work schedule and limit myself to work related activities during work times.
Sub-goal A – I will stick to the following work schedule: M – 12 - 8 pm, T – 8 am - 7:30 pm, W – 12 - 8 pm, Th – 12 - 8 pm, F – 12 - 5 pm
Sub-goal B - I will refrain from FB, Netflix, and Twitter during work hours except for my official breaks.
Sub-goal C - I will take a one hour break each day from 12:30 to 1:30 pm, during which I can entertain myself however I like.

Health Goal #1 - Exercise
Baseline – I currently do a few laps with the dogs a couple times a week, as well as rarely using the elliptical and occasionally doing some stretches. Exercise happens randomly based on my motivation, schedule, and awareness.
Goal – I will create a regular exercise routine.
Sub-goal A – I will complete at least 5 laps with the dogs at least 3 times a week.
Sub-goal B – I will walk on the elliptical instead of sitting on the couch for the first 30 minutes of reading or TV watching time each day.
Sub-goal C – I will do 10 push-ups and 30 sit-ups each day.

Health Goal #2 - Diet
Baseline – Although I enjoy healthy foods such as fruits and veggies, I eat way too much of everything, especially carbohydrates and fried foods. I currently weigh [mssg redacted] lbs.
Goal – I will reduce my weight to [mssg redacted] lbs.
Sub-goal A – I will record my weight and caloric intake at least 6 days of each week.
Sub-goal B – I will limit my caloric intake to 1,400 cal/day.
Sub-goal C – I will refrain from buying chips and candy as snacks when shopping.

GOOOOOOOOAAAALLL!

2009-12-27T14:59:00.000-08:00

The new year, not to mention a new decade, is upon us, and it is time to take stock of my life. I'm not one for making resolutions (too easy to fail), but I do like to take a moment to evaluate my progress through this thing we call life.
Resolutions seem to be too scary. If I resolve not to eat fatty foods, I'm bound to think of nothing but onion rings until I break down and gorge myself. Once that happens, the resolution is broken and there's no going back. My brain considers that a free pass until the next Jan 1st comes along.
Instead, I like to make goals for myself. These are things I am working toward. If I happen to eat some onion rings along the way, it's okay. I just try to do a little better the next week. Goals are more about knowing where I'm headed and less about staying on exactly the right path to get there.
Although I was too overwhelmed last year (and possibly the year before) to even think about the future, I am ready to grab hold of the reins once again. Here's how I do it, in case you'd like to play along at home:

Categories - I try to keep it fairly simple. If I give myself too many goals, I can't keep up with them. Failure is NOT a good motivator.

Work - goals relating to my job and the earning of money
Home - goals about chores and home ownership
Relationships - goals for improving my interactions with family and friends
Health - goals for exercise and eating habits
Fun - goals that encourage me to continue things I know I like and explore things I think I might like

Format - As a teacher, I relate my yearly goals to those that I might write for a student's Individualized Education Plan. Consequently, I follow the same guides that I would use when creating an IEP. I try to keep the goals as specific as possible. I make sure that my goals are both measurable and reachable. I use my current baseline as a starting point, and I develop sub-goals that will help me monitor my progress.
For example:

Work Goal #1 - Master's Degree
Baseline - I have 5 classes left to complete my online Master's degree. I have received A's on on my coursework and tests so far, but I have not turned anything for the last 12 months.
Goal - I will complete 4 classes toward my master's degree this year.
Sub-goals - I will have 2 finished by May, and the other 2 finished by next January. I will complete an average of 3 questions a week.

I plan to have the rest of my goals fleshed out before the calendar clicks over to 2010. I'll probably even share them with you! I'd be interested in hearing about your New Year's goals and/or resolutions. What are you feelings about them? How do you do it? What are you planning for 2010?

The horses have escaped? Quick! Shut the barn door!

2009-12-26T17:00:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else concerned about the idiocy with which the FAA and the US Government are dealing with the latest airline security issue? I mean, I’m all for safety precautions, but it seems to me that the security measures that have been implemented in the past decade are purely reactionary. Someone uses a liquid to do damage, so liquids are restricted to 3 ounces. Someone uses a shoe, so we all have to walk through security barefoot. While I understand the basic logic behind these choices, they have proven time and time again to be completely useless. Imagine if you will, being in an elementary classroom:

……….
Vandalism has become a problem in Room 7. The first time profanity was written on the whiteboard while the teacher was talking with some students in the hall, so the students were no longer allowed to work outside the classroom. That sounds reasonable enough, right? The next time pictures are drawn on some of the desks while the class is out at recess, so recess is limited to indoor activities for the rest of the week. The kids don’t like it, but there’s not much they can do about it. Despite the teacher’s watchful eye, doodles are found on the wall by the library sometime after writing. This time, the teacher collects all the pencils and requires students to sign them out each time they need one. Some of the students see this restriction of their activities as a challenge. It becomes a status builder to be able to commit vandalism without getting caught. Eventually, the teacher has implemented a rule prohibiting any students from getting out of their seats outside of their assigned 15 minute window each day. All writing utensils are considered contraband materials, and students are patted down prior to entering the classroom each morning. Not only has the vandalism not stopped, now the students of Room 7 are rebelling in a variety of other ways.
………

In the wake of the most recent terrorist activity, the FAA has come up with yet another asinine security measure. “Among other things, during the final hour of flight customers must remain seated, will not be allowed to access carry-on baggage, or have personal belongings or other items on their laps.” Because that’s going to fix everything, right? At least until some pissed off terrorist realizes that they can get up to mischief BEFORE the one hour cut-off time. At which point the rest of us - honest passengers just trying to get from point A to point B - will be told to sit without moving in our seats for the last TWO hours of the flight. And so on.

Why is it that authority figures inevitably choose to demonstrate their power and might over those who challenge or disagree with them? These attempts to micromanage the behavior of others so rarely fixes anything. Instead the situation is escalated back and forth, with each side trying harder to one-up the other. How can it be that after thousands of years, the driving forces behind human actions can still be so misunderstood? Good people can do amazing things when they are treated with respect and understanding, but will fight back and make stupid choices when they feel their freedoms are being threatened. Bad people find a way to do bad things no matter what restrictions they are facing. “The attempted attack on a Northwest Airlines flight to Detroit has raised concerns among U.S. security officials that the device the suspect allegedly tried to detonate appeared to be made of materials that met U.S. airline-security regulations, Rep. Peter King, R.-N.Y., the top Republican on the House Homeland Security committee, said in an interview Saturday.”

I, for one, am done traveling the friendly skies. The insane expense, the endless lines, the indisputable carbon footprint, the inevitable airline incompetence, and the increasingly restricting (yet consistently useless) rules and regulations have convinced me. If I need to go somewhere in the foreseeable future, it will be on the ground.

Friendly Reminder...

2009-12-25T21:10:00.000-08:00

This blog was created many years ago - 2002, to be exact. It was (and hopefully will be once again) a vent for my thoughts and feelings and a record of the important events in my life. It began as an attempt to increase communication with various family members. While that didn't pan out exactly as I'd planned, it did become a valued way for me to express and expand upon the random thoughts that pass through my head each day.

Since 2002, many things have changed in my life. The pages of this blog contain the words I used to share and process a variety of things - both good and bad - that I have experienced. I have always been the kind of person who wears her heart right out on her sleeve, and I wish to remain so. Therefore, I am going to refrain from going through and editing, deleting, or hiding anything I have written in the past. I simply ask that you remember 2 things:

1. You are under no obligation to read the words that I have written. If something I say (or said) offends you, please feel free to stop reading. I enjoy sharing my thoughts, but I have no desire to hurt or upset you. I will completely understand if you choose not to read what I have written. However, I try to remain true to my own feelings and avoid censoring myself as much as possible.

2. Just because I expressed love/hate/anger/joy/etc for something on a previous date does not mean that I feel the same way now. As a human, I am continually growing and changing, as well as occasionally sticking my foot in my mouth. Please give me a little room for mistakes and/or foolishness.

Ode to Time Zones

2009-12-25T20:42:00.000-08:00

We are winging our way east at 250 mph. During our two and a half
hour flight, the minutes of four and a half hours are devoured in one
gulp. The sun doesn't slip past the horizon, but dives past, toes
pointed at just the right angle, leaving barely a ripple to mark its
passing. I would mourn the loss of these precious minutes, but I know
that on my way home the sun will float lazily along with me, returning
that borrowed time with a smile.

Observations from a Southwest Flight

2009-12-25T20:41:00.001-08:00

The teen boy with the military hair cut and the earring who is sitting
across from me avidly watches the teen girl with the pink and teal stripes in
her hair who is sitting in front of me. He requests a Sprite
and 'that girl's phone number' from the flight attendant. He
convinces the elderly man sitting next to him to switch seats so he
can tap her on the shoulder and inquire as to where she attends
school. (Being sure to mention that he is a recent graduate of a nearby school
himself.) She's not quite sure how to take this unexpected, but
perhaps not entirely undesired, attention. I'm immensely amused by
his persistent questions and her polite but brief answers. This
amusement, derived from the knowledge that I no longer have to fear
being in either of these kids' shoes, makes me feel old. But it's an
old I am comfortable with.

All I Ever Wanted

2008-12-20T09:43:00.000-08:00

There is no school (my 8 - 4 job) and no tutoring (my 4 - 8 job) for the next two weeks. I am on vacation, and as much as I hate being in school until the middle of June, I must say that I enjoy my long breaks. I have a large rolling crate, a big tupperware storage bin, and 3 filing baskets FULL of things that I have to deal with before January 5th. I have to revamp my math and reading programs to address the needs of myself and my students. I have a masters program that has been seriously neglected. And I have dogs who are so desperate for attention that we can't go outside without being attacked. Finally, I will have some time to address all of these things and more. I have plans to wrap presents as they come in (my overcrowded schedule kept me from Christmas shopping until about a week ago), knit a few scarves (a hobby I returned to this week during my snow-enforced free day on Thursday), and do a lot of sleeping in. It might be that I manage to do some more regular blogging, too, but I'm not making any promises. :)

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas...

2008-12-18T09:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we had a snowstorm that would have even impressed some of my MN relatives (a little, at any rate). It snowed all day, leaving a thick layer of slush/snow/water/ice mixture covering our entire yard. This morning the sun came out long enough to burn off the layer of fog covering the whole world, then went back behind the gray woolen clouds. CalTrans currently has the main road closed to anyone without chains or snowtires starting just about where we are and going up into the mountains. A friend reported seeing several cars and an ambulance in the ditch last night as she drove home. I am trying to balance my intense guilt at missing school with a healthy concern for my own safety. Luckily, I have Mikey (my voice of reason) to weight in on the side of safety. We used Mikey's new video camera (a birthday present) to take footage, and turn a tiny bit of it into a YouTube video. It can be found by clicking here. While I doubt it will stick around long enough to make Christmas white, it was certainly exciting.

I'm Not Dead Yet!

2008-09-27T14:47:00.000-07:00

Wow. That was a busy 6 weeks! I honestly wanted to sit down and write several times and just couldn't. I have barely had time to shower, eat, or sleep, much less communicate.
I have lots to share, so let's play a little game...

In Ten Words

Tutoring
students progressing
reputation blossoming
recovering from summer losses
exhausting, yet exhilarating

School
student teacher
many responsibilities
not enough hours
love my work

My Class
young and enthusiastic
chatty
willing to work hard
somewhat needy

Home
dirty, so dirty
comforting
too rarely visited
too often left

Solar Panels
saving money
cutting energy use
voting Obama
doing our all

FYI

2008-08-21T07:10:00.000-07:00

* The solar panels have been put on hold due to our inability to procure satisfactory funding. We're currently saving up as fast as we can (drat - no more eating out) and if we miss the current tax rebate window (they expire on 12/31) then we'll just wait for the bigger and better one that President Obama is going to put together. :)

* My back is at about 90%. I can still feel stiffness and my range of motion isn't what it once was, but the pain is under control. In fact, I haven't had one flare up since my appointment a week ago. I haven't been able to say that since the beginning of July.

* The new fridge is beautiful and does its job well. It was worth the wait.

Time to get to work. I have Back 2 School presentations to give this evening and I'm trying to get a PhotoStory set up so that all I have to do is press "play". :)

School Days

2008-08-21T06:42:00.000-07:00

I've been back at school for 3 days now. We're starting to get into the swing of things. A couple of notes about my class...

1. They are GREAT direction followers. I have been very impressed with how well they can stick with me as I am rushing through things trying to get everything done. When I ask for their attention, I get it.

2. They are still a little shaky on the organizational side, but I'm going to pick up some 3 ring binders and some dividers to share with some of them and then I think things will be better.

3. They seem to be able to handle a little extra freedom without letting it go to their heads. I can give them choices and trust that they will stick to the parameters I have set up and not go crazy.

4. They need LOTS of encouragement to participate in class discussions. This class seems to be made up primarily of those kids who normally just watch what's going on. They are paying close attention and they are learning, they just aren't being as overt in showing it. I'm working on changing that. Gotta get 'em verbalizing more (especially the English Learners).

5. On the other hand, in a very wierd paradox, they are VERY chatty. Lots of sharing ideas with neighbors and talking amongst themselves. I can already tell that I will be fighting a losing battle if I try to stop it completely. Since they seem to be able to get work done while they chat, I am going to plan lots of group work for this bunch. We just need to work on volume at this point.

This was an odd beginning of the year for me. I spent TONS of time in my room beforehand, but felt very unprepared on the first day. It took me nearly 2 days to get into the groove of being "the teacher" again. Conversely, I learned the names of my students by the second day. It typically takes me at least a week know remember all of them correctly. Of course the fact that I only have 29 students helps some.

I tend to be very individualistic when it comes to teaching. I am somewhat picky about how things are done (I can just hear Mikey saying, "SOMEWHAT?" when he reads this!) and I am not great at delegating work. I don't usually have a ton of support, so I have learned how to do it all myself. This year, I have an aide in my room full time AND I am going to have a student teacher starting Monday. YIKES! I'm having to learn how to include other adults in my own private little party. I'll keep you posted. For now, I can sum it up by saying that I am having a SUPER year.

Solar Flares

2008-08-16T10:34:00.000-07:00

Just for the record, I hate Bank of America. They apparently have baboons setting up their programs. I have yet to try to accomplish something beyond basic deposits and withdrawals without ending up in a blind rage.

This time it's because we spent 3 weeks jumping through hoops, faxing various bits of information, and WAITING...always waiting before they told us that we couldn't have a home equity line of credit due to the fact that our home is of the manufactured variety. When asked why it took them so long (and 3 phone conversations with us) to come to this decision, they told us that it was because they had just gotten the paperwork that stated it was a manufactured home. DUH. I could have told them that. If this is something that automatically excludes you, shouldn't it be one of the FIRST things you ask about? I would prefer not to share all my tax info with the baboons running your office just for the fun of it.

Anyway. This all means that we are starting over from step one. Although I now know to ask them if they will work with our manufactured home status right up front. Mikey and I are going around and around on how much of a financial cushion we need to have, who we should talk to next, how much money we really need to borrow, how long it will take us to pay things back, etc, etc, etc. We have several options open to us (none that make us both happy) and I guess I should consider this a learning opportunity. The thing is...I never really WANTED to learn about this crap.

The most frustrating thing about this whole process is that we are just trying to do the right thing. We aren't doing it for the money (we'll be saving a whopping $50 a month). We just want to be doing something that will have a positive effect on our world and our fellow human beings. Using the sun to power things in Southern California is just the RIGHT THING TO DO. Why does it have to be so damn hard??

Update

2008-07-23T21:46:00.000-07:00

Thought y'all might be interested in how life is shaping up around here.

1. Masters Class
I managed to slam through the essays needed for my Models of Teaching class. They are all sent off. Now I am just waiting for the final exam to show up so I can get it finished for reals.
The textbook for my next class, Career Development, arrived recently. I started working on it today, but I am having a little trouble getting into it. For one thing, I can't quite figure out why I have to be taking a class about how to be a better career counselor. The kids I work with are 10 years old for crying out loud. They all want to be sports stars or firefighters at this point and I am not going to tell them that it's time to think otherwise. Let 'em have their dreams through their first decade at least. I think I might have to email the school and find out what the point of this class really is, or I am going to have a hard time taking it seriously.

2. Fridge
We are now on Day 15 of The Great Fridge Wait of 2008. (Hey! That rhymes!) I called them yesterday and they have me attitude. "There is a 14 day window for delivery. This is the 14th day. We'll probably call you within the next day or two." Um. Yeah. When you tell someone that their fridge will arrive in "7 to 14 days" that kinda implies that 14 is the MAX. But that wasn't the worst of it. When I admitted that I was a little stressed because I had been without a fridge for 2 weeks he said, "You should have bought one that was in stock." If we had been having that conversation in real life I might have slapped him. He did have the good graces to admit that I might have had a reason for buying the one I bought, but still. Jerk. Anyway - The new fridge should be here any day. I am SOSOSOSOSOSO looking forward to not having a dead fridge in the middle of my kitchen (we pulled it out fro m its little hidey-hole so we could clean up the melted Popsicle puddle) and being able to drink all the cold beverages I can handle.

3. My Back
Well, I finally went to the chiropractor a week ago. He adjusted my back and it felt GREAT. In fact, in the course of popping everything back into place he made it so that I could once again touch my chin to my chest - something I hadn't even realized I could no longer do.
I really wish the story ended there.
The next day I was at a district training I leaned over in my chair to pick up my computer bag and POING! I finally understood what people mean when they say, "I threw my back out". I could feel how the part of my back that had previously stretched slowly out of place had gone from 0 to 60 in a fraction of a second.
I spend all last weekend on ice and the floor. On Monday, the chiropractor put things back into place again and told me a horrifying story about a guy who leaned over and threw his back out so hard that he paralyzed himself. Eeegads! I have been faithfully doing my exercises, and I have tried to be very careful about how I move my back. I see the chiropractor again on Friday, but I am feeling quite a bit better already.

4. Solar Panels
Did I mention before that we were hoping to go solar? I can't remember, and I don't feel like looking it up. Anyway. We are, and I called a couple of places. The BP Solar folks are coming out tomorrow, but I am not really very excited about it. This is mostly because the other guy I talked to gave me some bad news. It turns out that our electric utility - Anza Electric Cooperative - is one of only 2 utilities in the entire state of California that doesn't participate in the PV incentive program. Being a cooperative, they aren't obligated to do so. This means that a PV set-up in Anza costs 10 grand more than almost anywhere else in the state. Bastards. If the BP guy verify this tomorrow, we will have to put our solar plans on hold. We just can't swing $30,000+ at this point.

5. The Letter "M"
The M key on y keyboard had decided it is only going to work if I REALLY MEAN IT. Apparently, unless I a looking at the screen and hitting the key really hard (somehow I think this is the ore iportant of the two) it doesn't believe that I really want the letter M to appear. It's starting to drive e crazy!

Okay. That's all the news that's fit to print. Time to put the dogs in and head to bed. Nighty-night, all.

Procrastination

2008-07-12T08:56:00.000-07:00

Okay. So, I'm supposed to be working, but I thought I would fill you in on the chaos that is my life these days.

1. FRIDGE
Our crappy, electricity guzzling (668 kWh/yr) fridge is dying a slow death. It seemed like it wasn't cooling properly before I left for my trip, and while I was gone it became evident that there was something wrong with it. Immediately upon returning, we went out in search of the most energy efficient fridge we could find. We had settled on a nice one from home depot and had gone through 99% of the process of actually buying it when we were told that the delivery service would bring it to our front yard. As in NOT the kitchen. Since Mikey's back is very touchy and mine has been acting up for some time now, that was a deal breaker. We ended up at Lowe's getting a cheaper, more efficient (440 kWh/yr) fridge that will actually be delivered and installed right into our kitchen. YAY!
Unfortunately, they had to order it from the factory for us. This means a 7-10 day wait, during which we are living out of a cooler full of ice and trying to eat everything in the freezer as it thaws and before it goes completely bad. I am embarrassed to admit that we still have the old one running, albeit poorly, in an attempt to slow the thawing process. I suspect in a couple of days I will no longer be willing to risk the potential salmonella just to avoid wasting a few bucks and we'll turn it off and empty it out for good.
This has not been good for my snacking options. While I usually pull out a stick of string cheese or suck down a glass of ice tea, lately I have been eating a ton of carbs - chips, crackers, pretzels, etc. - because that's what we have that is edible. We've also been eating out A LOT. I will be very happy when this new fridge shows up.

2. BACK
My back is killing me. I don't know what caused it to start hurting but it happened before I left for MN. It was somewhat painful during the trip which I attributed to sitting in a cramped airline seat, lugging around heavy carryons, and sleeping in a bed different from my own. However, since I got home it has continued to bother me. The only time it doesn't hurt is when I am lying flat on my back. Sitting with my back nice and straight is okay for a few minutes. Walking is alright as long as it is slow and easy. Bending over is impossible and sitting in just about anything (EZ chair, couch, car, etc) hurts like the dickens. I can stretch it easily to the sides or backwards, but anything forward is out of the question as are rapid movements of any kind. I keep trying to tell myself that I just need to rest it and it will get better, but I'm getting seriously frustrated at how this is hampering my summer plans.

3. Class
I am getting closer to finishing my latest masters class. Of the 10 questions that need to be sent out next, I have 3 finished, 4 outlined, and 3 yet untouched. Speaking of which - I am supposed to be working on them RIGHT NOW. Time to get back to work.

Going on Vacation

2008-07-03T07:27:00.000-07:00

I'm heading home for a few days, so I won't be updating for a while. I don't really have much to say at this point, but I didn't want to leave that last bit of self-absorbed ranting at the top of my page.

I am excited about my trip because I am going to get to hang out with my sister, both brothers, and my litter of nieces and nephews all at the same time. It's going to be a good time! We've all been calling back and forth like loons on a lake for the last couple weeks as we set it all up.

Hope your 4th of July weekend is just as pleasant as I am.

Tidbits

2008-06-30T16:28:00.000-07:00

1. Because I know some people will be wondering...if you read that last post, it wasn't about you. The reason it was safe to write is because the person who needs to hear it doesn't come here. So don't worry.

2. I am trying to win a copy of Wii Fit in an internet contest. I currently have a 4 in 5100 chance of winning. And those odds are dropping like stones. Wish me luck!

No, I don't want to talk about it. Thanks anyway.

2008-06-30T14:49:00.000-07:00

I have never been arrested.
I have never flunked a class.
I have never gotten kicked out of an apartment.
I have never driven drunk.
I have never stolen anything.
I have never committed a violent act against another person.
I have never squandered large amounts of money.
I have never asked for anything.
I have never failed to be there when you needed me.

Perhaps if I had done a couple of these things, it would be a little harder to forget about me. A little harder to convince yourself that I can take care of myself. Or at the very least a little harder to put me dead last behind every other single thing you include in your oh-so-busy life.

It's not the lack of support that hurts because I really can take care of myself. It's the complete and utter lack of understanding you have for how little you have really done for me. It's the fact that you don't see the imbalance. And the fact that I will never, ever point it out to you.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Okay. Enough of that. I have had my pity party and I am moving on. I don't plan on letting this particular demon out to play again for some time. I apologize to anyone who happened to see this pathetic bit of self-absorbed whining. I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Pissed Off

2008-06-30T14:39:00.000-07:00

You know when you are so angry that you can hardly breathe through the pressure in your chest? That anger that fills your emotions and makes you unable to think about anything else? That rage that you can't find enough vile words to express? That bitterness that grabs onto every slight and insult, every injustice you have ever experienced and feeds on it, growing exponentially until you are pretty sure that everything has always been this horrible, if not a little worse?

Yeah.

Being that angry sucks.

Dinner and a Movie

2008-06-29T20:47:00.000-07:00

Tonight, we watched a Japanese horror film called "One Missed Call". Even though I was watching carefully, and even though it was fairly well dubbed in English, I have NO IDEA what happened in this movie. People were getting phone calls from themselves time stamped about 2 days in the future. They would then die some kind of horrible death at the time the call was made. The main character (Yumi) and her kinda-boyfriend (Yamashita) spend some of their time trying to save her doomed roommate and the rest investigating the asthma death of a young girl. They suspected that the girl had been abused by her mother. More people die horrible, gruesome deaths. Then the last third of the movie is spent trying out one ending after another. It's like the director kept thinking up "one more thing!" The final plot has more twists and turns than Lombard Street. (Thanks, Mikey, for that reference.) I won't say that I hated it - there were some truly creepy scenes (if you like that kind of thing) - but it left me feeling a bit lost.

Mid-movie we stopped to make an ambitious meal - eggrolls! They are SO yummy, but they take FOREVER to make. Ours were filled with cabbage, carrots, glass noodles, and Hoisin marinated tofu. Sauteing, boiling, frying, and that's all before you even get to the wrapping and deep frying. We sure enjoyed them after all that work. Mikey made his special sweet and sour sauce, and we even had a couple of apple-cinnamon filled eggrolls for dessert.

To finish out the evening, we watched an anime show called "Rurouni Kenshin, wandering samurai" about a swordsman who has chosen a new, non-violent path. Unfortunately, it seems as though every swordsman in the area wants to use him to prove their own strength. It actually reminds me a lot of another anime show called "Trigun", except in that story it is an expert gunfighter who has repented his violent past.

Design Problem

2008-06-29T10:08:00.000-07:00

Mikey and I have been trying to exercise for the last couple of days. Our favorite form of exercise is Dance, Dance Revolution, the Playstation game that you play with your feet. I have discovered (or rather re-discovered) a major design flaw.

No, not in the game. In me.

You see, when I start to exercise, I use muscles that I don't usually use. This is a good thing. Except that those muscles tend to protest this new abuse, causing me to ache and walk funny and leave things on the floor because it's too painful to pick them up. This means that the next day it is that much harder to motivate myself to exercise. Because it HURTS.

That is just foolish design. If I didn't hurt so much (and lest you think I actually did damage to myself - I'm a big baby and I'm talking about the normal aches and pains you get when you stop lying on the couch all day long - I am actually just fine), I wouldn't have to work so hard to convince myself that exercise is a good idea. And I wouldn't be so quick to give it up. And I wouldn't feel so guilty. And I wouldn't have to gorge myself on french fries and bad television to make myself feel better. And I wouldn't be so fat and lazy.

This is all a design flaw and has nothing to do with my inability to exert any kind of self-control over myself. So. Who do I sue?

Summer Vacation News

2008-06-27T09:44:00.000-07:00

I have been on my summer break since June 15th. I'm managing to keep my self busy. Or at the very least occupied. :)

Bri-Bri!
Mikey's childhood buddy, Brian, came to visit for a few days. We greatly enjoyed exposing him to our Anza lifestyle, including profanity laden comedic television, a variety of video games, and breakfast at the local hick diner. We also saw the WORST M. Night movie to date (The Happening - don't see it 'cause it's not), ate overpriced Round Table pizza (these Poway boys seem to be addicted to the stuff), and generally stayed up way too late hangin' out. It was tons of fun, and our pal Bri is welcome here any time.

It's What I Do
I was going to use this title to talk about my summer tutoring but it's really more accurate to use it to talk about what I've been reading. In the last 2 weeks I have plowed through 4 or 5 books from the In Death series by J.D. Robb (aka Nora Roberts), sadly leaving me no more until the publish the next title in paperback. In the meantime, I am reading a textbook for my masters class called Models of Teaching, a young adult novel by Cory Doctorow called Little Brother, and the true story of the guy who started several schools for girls in the mountains in Afghanistan called Three Cups of Tea. I'm also popping in and out of a book about families that have adopted stray dogs called Second Chances.

The Other Thing I Do
I am currently responsible for covering our Tuesday (9:00-12:30, 2:45-6:15) and Wednesday (10:15-12:30, 2:45-5:00) hours at Escuela del Sol. My youngest student is going into 1st grade and my oldest ones are going into 8th grade. All of my students are focusing on either math or language arts (summer is when the students get back to the basics in an effort to avoid retention), and every one of them is a pleasure to work with. I managed to accomplish quite a bit of paperwork and organization in between students, as well.

Actual Work
The only thing I am doing that feels like actual work these days is trying to make progress on my masters program. The book I am reading isn't so bad, but the questions I am responsible for answering are uber-stupid. I don't like writing essays anyway, and feeling that what I am writing is useless and brainless makes it even harder. I have no choice but to power through as much as possible this summer, though. There is no time during the school year.

Ch-ch-ch-changes.
Thanks to Netflix's oh-so-helpful removal of that pesky multi-queue option and their dedicated interest in the needs and desires of their customers (watch out...don't get any of that dripping sarcasm on you!) we have decided to move our video rental loyalties over to Blockbuster. I am not thrilled with the idea of supporting a chain like Blockbuster, but it prefer that to supporting those arrogant bastards over at NetFlix.

Big Money
Now that summer is here and I'm not so dependent on my vehicle, I found the time to take it in for the numerous repairs that have been piling up. There is a VW dealer that is fairly close to Temecula, but I refuse to let them touch my pretty Jetta since the last time, when they caused more harm than good. This means that I have to go all the way to Escondido to the second closest dealer when I need major work done. This time I got to pay for...
- a new front bumper
- reattachment of driver side door handle
- 1 headlamp and 1 taillight
- a sun roof control
- a temp gauge
- repair of the central arm rest
- a timing belt
- a water pump and various related parts
- other bits and pieces from the engine
- 90,000 maintenance
- the labor and time that went into all these repairs
I'm quite pleased with the work they did. I even got a 10% discount on the labor and a free inside/outside wash due to the magnitude of my bill. I sure hope we don't need to do that again any time soon, though.

Yum Yums
On the brighter side, we got to have a lunch at one of our new favorite places, the Stone Brewery. Although we aren't huge fans of beer, we are huge fans of the 100% organic, mostly vegetarian menu. Mikey got a delicious tofu stir-fry, and I got a rich and creamy wild mushroom pasta. Yum!

Too Long?

2008-05-07T19:07:00.000-07:00

Someone referred to the "I'm a ____ and I vote." bumper stickers. This is the one I want...

I'm a
fiscally conservative,
enviromentally conscious,
socially responsible,
vegetarian,
agnostic,
thirty-something,
cynical,
folk-music listening,
open-minded,
pet owning,
married,
home-owning,
literate,
self-respecting,
commuting,
hopeful,
entrepeneurial,
female,
technologically capable,
pacifist,
American
educator
and I vote.

I think I need a bigger bumper. :) Who are YOU?

Sick

2008-05-04T17:42:00.000-07:00

Blegh. I got a sore throat Wednesday night. It was worse Thursday, but I went to school anyway. My reward for getting through the day was getting to stay home Friday. I am amazed at how well a combination of sleep, rest, and Airborne will do for my health. Saturday, I felt much better. After a couple of hours of cleaning, it was obvious that my system was still in "get better" mode. I have slept away Sunday, and I am looking forward to getting back to normal tomorrow.

PS - No. I did NOT use apple cider vinegar for the sore throat. :) But I did get up in the middle of the night to gargle with hot salt water.

You know it's a bad sign when...

2008-04-26T20:02:00.000-07:00

...the movie you are about to watch is preceded by previews for The Benchwarmers and Click. Yikes.

You know you're really desperate when you go ahead and watch it anyway. :) In a couple of hours I will be able to tell you what I thought of the movie Fun With Dick and Jane starring Jim Carrey and Tea Leoni. I do not have high hopes.

A good thing to collect

2008-04-23T19:37:00.000-07:00

I have gathered quite a collection of good things this week...

* my hubby has done numerous household chores, making it so that I didn't have to do them
* my principal sent me a complimentary note
* the transplant coordinator at Mayo who had to listen to me complain about what a pain it is to get my yearly crosscheck blood draws done was understanding and helpful
* I was able to find someone who was willing to be suckered into doing my blood draw
* Amy called to tell me that the kidney is doing spectacularly - taking good care of not just Amy, but also the little one she's carrying
* I got to come home relatively early this evening
* my cherry tree is blooming its little heart out even though it is not much more than a 3 foot stalk covered with leaves
* I have been given permission to use the little office off of my room as a classroom library - now I can give my kiddos a little elbow room (they're getting big, you know, almost middle schoolers!)
* there are less than 8 weeks of school left
* we now have 25 students enrolled for tutoring - we are actually making a small amount of profit each month - I think I'm currently earning about...ooh! a whopping 4 dollars an hour
* we got some new netflix today - now I can not only get my Lost on, but also my Battlestar Galactica, my Alian, and my Quantum Leap

Another Sign of Spring

2008-04-18T06:39:00.000-07:00

It has finally reached the time of year when the rising of the sun occurs early enough for me to wake naturally rather than to the alarm clock. Today was the first day. As my eyes opened I panicked - "Did I forget to set the alarm? Why is it so light in here? Crap. I'm gonna be late." Seconds later, my phone started beeping at me.

I have the kind of internal regulator that works on simple commands. Light = wake. Dark = sleep. This makes getting things done in the summer a breeze and getting things done on rainy days near impossible. I have to draw all the blinds and turn on all the lights to trick myself into thinking it's sunny out. If I ever moved to Alaska, I would have whole months out of the year when I didn't leave the house. I would have to stuff myself on berries and salmon all summer just to get through my hibernation phase.

I've often considered trying one of those ambient light alarms, but I suspect it wouldn't really fool me. I would wake up, take note of the absolute black out my windows, pull the covers over my head, and attempt to sleep until spring.

Hmmmmm

2008-04-12T15:29:00.000-07:00

I haven't had any inspiring thoughts lately. It is SUPER windy outside today. I am working and watching TV. My knees hurt. There are dishes to be done. None of this makes me want to write. Sorry about that.

Mountains in Springtime

2008-04-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

What the desert flowers lack in stamina they make up in enthusiasm. The flowers on our hills have gone CRAZY. There are great swaths of purple and yellow all along my commute. It is so much fun to drive these days.

I have read about people having trouble going from the one environment to another because of the differences in the horizon. Cowboys who feel too confined by the mountains or those from the forests who feel that the plains are too open for safety. I enjoy all types of environments, but I am finding that the mountains are my very favorites. I have been living in CA for 8 years and I have been commuting through the mountains for 3 years now. I STILL am awed and inspired by the sight of the hills fading from blue to gray in the distance. Amazing.

It's a disease. I have no control.

2008-04-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

I think that Submarina puts some kind of habit forming drug in their sandwiches. I am SO addicted. It has gotten to the point that they start putting the sandwich together as soon as they see my car pull up (okay, not really, but almost!). The order is always the same.

Two foot-long Combo Cheeses on whole wheat. Every cheese except the American (that means we get Provolone, Pepper Jack, Swiss, and Cheddar), lots of lettuce, and a little onion on both. Tomatoes, black olives, and cucumbers on one. Oil and vinegar on the other. Plenty of mayo (I know, bad for me, but SOOOO tasty!) and salt/pepper on both. Cut them in quarters.

Yum. I could eat at Submarina every night and be perfectly happy. Seriously.

Oh. And in case you're wondering. I have tried many times to replicate this sandwich at home. I worked in a deli making sandwiches for years. You would think I could manage. But, no. It never tastes the same. There is some kind of addictive secret ingredient somewhere (I think it's in the bread!) with which homemade sandwiches just can't compete.

...and Harold dropped off to sleep.

2008-04-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

As I was driving home, I had a total "Harold and the Purple Crayon" moment. I suddenly realized that the moon was following me, just over my left shoulder, keeping me company. It was comforting to know that if I lost my way, I could simply draw my bedroom window around the moon and draw up the covers. :)

To Do

2008-03-31T09:09:00.000-07:00

Things I have to get done this week:

- ~~finish online traffic school~~
- ~~finish final exam for Curriculum Eval course~~
- write Escuela del Sol introduction letter
- update EdS flier
- ~~gather names/addresses of psychologists, counselors, principals, etc in district~~
- ~~make 2 scarves - one red/blue, one pink/purple~~
- ~~finish grading~~
- work on planning for last 10 weeks of school
- sweep/mop all floors in house

Hmm. School is back in session now. I guess the rest will have to wait until June? Let's hope not.

Oh! I get it!

2008-03-29T07:52:00.000-07:00

I have this one dream that always seems to pop up during times of stress. I am in a classroom or school of some kind, responsible for a large number of students, and none of them will listen to me. Often I am late for something important, missing vital materials necessary for instruction, or just simply unable to manage behaviors. This dream usually ends with me completely losing my cool in a way that would get my ass fired in a real life situation, causing me to wake up in a cold sweat. I have always interpreted these dreams as manifestations of my inner fears.
"I won't know what to do."
"They won't like me."
"I won't do a good job."
"I won't be able to control my temper."

This morning I awoke from the same dream (unusual for this early in a vacation - typically it rears its ugly head a day or two before I go back to work) with a completely different take on the dream. It started out as the same old thing. I had a class I didn't know. I was hazy on the rules of the school I was in. There was something scheduled that I didn't know about. I couldn't get my kids to follow simple directions. It was chaos and no one was learning anything. My first waking thought:
"I can't teach in this setting."

OH. Well. For the first time ever, I woke from that dream knowing exactly how I could fix the situation. And the best part is - I am already well on my way to doing so. It felt good to realize that (at least in this particular version of the dream) the fault wasn't with ME, but instead with the SYSTEM. It was a very clear statement of what I have been feeling for some time. I am not able to do the work I was meant to do in the environment in which I am currently working.

Don't get me wrong. I am doing good. My students make progress. That progress is even comparable to the progress made by other students in other classes. The problem is this: I KNOW I could be helping students more. I KNOW I have the ability to get them further (or is it farther? I always have trouble with these two) than I am currently doing. I KNOW that I have a gift for reaching troubled, struggling children. And I KNOW that I am meant to do more than doggy-paddle my way through the muck of the public school system in its current incarnation, barely keeping my heart above water and struggling every day with the same decision. Do I do what I know is expected of me according to the rules of this environment so that I can keep my job, my health insurance, and my limited ability to influence the future? Or do I do what I know is necessary for the healthy development of this group of children so they can be the best they can be? This is NOT a decision I should have to be making. I should not have to be compromising between the two.

Since opening Escuela del Sol, I have only become more aware of the division. I can barely get through each 7 hour day at school. I am exhausted when the bell rings at the end of each day (and often a good 30 minutes before that!). It would be easy to say that this is because of the new routine, the new school, the challenging students, the details of teaching, but in reality those are the things I usually thrive on. They are why I love teaching. In truth, I am exhausted from fighting a constant battle in my brain between what I have to do and what I want to do. I know that this because I can leave school, exhausted, at 4:00, spend the next 3 hours working with struggling students at Escuela, and head home feeing rejuvenated. I feel the physical exhaustion that comes from working a 12 hour day, but the emotional exhaustion has melted away.

So, waking up from my regular stress dream with the thought, "I can't work in this setting." is a big switch from waking up to the thought, "I can't do this." I have been pushing pretty hard this year, but it is all with one thought in mind. By the year 2010 (probably sooner) I will have developed Escuela del Sol to the point where I can leave the public school environment that is so stifling me and focus on what I was put here to do - connecting with students and helping them reach their full potential. Or, as the Escuela del Sol logo promises, "Helping Kids Shine". I suffer no delusions that all stress dreams will vanish at that point. I'm a little too high strung for that luxury. But at least I will know that I am in a setting where I can reach MY potential. And isn't that the point?

*My cousin Raya's most recent blog post touches on this same topic from her perspective as a mom. Her comment regarding rules to understand the rules hits it right on the head. Go check it out.

Highlights and Lowlights

2008-03-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

Highlights
1. The apple trees we planted 2 years ago (when we first moved here) are blooming! They started out with lots of tiny, hot pink buds, and those are now bursting open into delicate white flowers. I am extremely excited at the idea of getting apples. Especially if I can convince Mikey that he should be making apple pies with them. :)

2. The weather has been perfect for me to throw on a tank top and jeans, grab my shades and a book, and sit outside for hours. I have been reading almost a book a day. The dogs are loving the company and I am reveling in the relaxation.

3. You know you have a true friend when you can get together and have a lengthy, enjoyable conversation about religion, politics, and emotional health, especially when you disagree about fundamental parts of all three. I have just such a friend and I have been able to get together with her multiple times recently.

Lowlights
1. Mikey has been sick as a dog the last 3 days. He has a fever that reminds me of a couple of my students. You know, the ones who take FOREVER to leave after the bell rings, and keep remembering one more reason why they have to come back. Mikey's fever has several times left only to return a few hours later - "I forgot my math book!" He also has a nice, juicy cough and a nose that can't decide whether to drip constantly or freeze up completely. All this courtesy of his sister and nephew who were hosts to the same bug during our Easter get-together. I have been keeping a distance and crossing my fingers like crazy in hopes that I will avoid it. I don't want to miss out on my vacation and I can't afford to take sick days afterward.

Bookkeeping

2008-03-24T22:43:00.000-07:00

I don't hate bookkeeping itself. The practice of recording and balancing actually appeals to my anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive side. But trying to catch up on 3 months of back logs is the pits. My partner is great about documenting things, but her notes are often written in her own special code that I cannot decipher on my own. Since my brain is like a sieve, I don't remember what was happening a month or more ago. Which means I have spent the last 3 hours sorting through invoices, attendance logs, and payment receipts trying to figure out if we billed the correct number of hours and if the payments received covered the bills. Add on top of that the incredible number of illness related absences we've had lately (which we credit if given enough notice) and this has all been one big super puzzle. I will enjoy it much more when I am tutoring full time and have the ability to keep my bookkeeping current.

Real Life Math

2008-03-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

being late to dinner with your in-laws
+
the XM radio game*
+
a road you drive twice a day
+
cresting a steep hill
+
a heavy car that builds momentum as it goes downhill
=
the first speeding ticket I have gotten since I was 16

*The XM Radio Game (for those who are curious)
The passenger is in charge of the XM controller, scrolling through the channels looking for a band that the driver might be able to recognize. The song doesn't matter, although the game is MUCH easier if it is a well-known song. The driver attempts to identify the musician (or group of musicians). If the driver is unable to do so, the passenger can supply hints.

Popular category hints include:
synonyms (e.g. Third Eye Blind becomes Unseeing Chakra)
word association (e.g. Good Charlotte becomes Some Pig in reference to Charlotte's Web)
factoids (e.g. Aerosmith becomes Alicia Silverstone because she once acted in a music video of theirs)
initials (e.g. Three Doors Down = TDD)
number of words (e.g. I think you can figure this one out on your own.)
personal preference (e.g. Mikey knows that if I am picking something country for him to identify it is going to be one of a select few people because he has a limited knowledge of country. Same goes for me and grunge or hair metal.)

Extra points are awarded for speed of recognition (we each have a couple of bands that we can recognize from the first riff of a song) or obscurity of the song (guessing the band from their top 40 hit is less impressive than identifying them from some B side song that you've never heard before). Of course, the fewer clues you need, the better.

Honestly, the clues are the real fun of the game. We try to make up clues with multiple layers so that the driver really has to figure them out to make their guess. One of the more convoluted clues we've created:
Santana becomes Veronica Mars
Veronica Mars is a television show written by a guy named Rob Thomas who is of no relation to the Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 who once did a song with Santana.
This clue was for Mikey. I would recognize Santana right away. :)

The game is lots of fun, and it's how we spend most of our drive time when we're together. Just one warning if you become a player - be careful not to focus so much on the sound of the musician you're trying to guess that you forget to watch your speed. You'll end up like me, spending the first day of your vacation trying to get through to someone at your county court to find out how much it's going to cost you to go to traffic school.

Something New

2008-03-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

Hi, guys! I'm on spring break, so I thought I might try to do some blogging. The question is - do I have anything interesting to say? And do I remember how to do this? Luckily, I had my password tucked away in a safe place.

To start things off, I'm going to share some of the fun things I will be doing during my break:

1. playing with my dogs and reading
The poor puppies are super lonely for me now that I am working so much. If I sit down in the kennel Mia climbs right into my lap and curls up, determined to stay there. She forgoes dinner in order to snuggle with me whenever possible. This morning, we sat in the sun together while I read an entire Sue Grafton mystery. It's possible I can make pretty good headway through the whole alphabet series with this two week vacation.

2. cleaning
It's amazing how easy it is to ignore clutter and mess when you are working a 12 hour day. Now that I am home during daylight hours I am getting to those chores that have been piling up. Today I managed to do 3 loads of laundry, wash all the dishes, straighten the kitchen, and clean out the fridge and freezer. There's plenty left to do, but it feels good to get things done.

3. tutoring
I have about 4 hours of tutoring lined up for this week. There are more hours next week, but that's Stephanie's week. We've had another big surge of sign ups recently. Hooray, Escuela!

4. master's work
There has been a final exam sitting on my counter for several weeks, and it's about time for me to get it done. I wonder how far I can get on my next class? I make no promises!

5. exercise
My long work hours have done wonders for my diet. Self-control is no longer an issue when there is NO time for eating. However, when I am on vacation, I spend the whole day stuffing my face. I'm trying to do more walking and less munching during this one.

And, of course, I am working on catching up on all the sleep I have missed since my last vacation. With that goal in mind, I am now signing off and tucking myself into bead. G'night!

Science Training

2007-12-12T07:10:00.000-08:00

For the first time in a LONG time, I left my 6 hour training day feeling as though I had learned something valuable. Another first: I looked up at the clock at one point and thought, "Wow! It's 2 o'clock already?". The guy who is doing the presentation is funny and smart and very engaging. Instead of telling us "This is how you should do it" and doing it a completely different way himself, he is actually teaching us using the methods he thinks we should be using. It makes the whole thing fun and completely motivating. In my district, the teachers have become fairly jaded. We have had so many people telling us what to do and ignoring the skills we already have that we approach all newcomers with a "You think you can do it better? Well, prove it, buddy!" mentality. We all start each training sitting back in our chairs with our arms crossed and our minds tightly closed. This guy was able to overcome that in a BIG way. I am absolutely excited to be going back for the next two days.

I'm Sorry, Kids

2007-12-11T07:20:00.001-08:00

By the end of this week, I will have missed 6 days out of three weeks. 6/15. Almost half of the days. And although I am missing them for school related business (intervention meetings, training, etc), I am feeling an overwhelming combination of guilt and exhaustion. I keep trying to show my kids how they are going to benefit from me being gone (Hey, guys! We get to have new computers in our room if I go to this three day training!), but I know that they are starting to feel neglected. Thank goodness I have a wonderful regular sub who knows how things go in my room, and who my students enjoy.

Conferences

2007-11-14T06:56:00.000-08:00

The thing I like best about conference time is that it gives me a chance to focus on the students in my class who rarely get their fair share of my attention. I spend 90% of my day redirecting the same 4 kids over and over. They need to be reminded of the rules, they didn't hear the directions I just gave, they want a drink, a break, an extra copy of the homework, and so on. Meanwhile, there are 22 students who manage to get through the day with minimal assistance from me. I try to touch base with each of my kiddos every day, but I'm not always as good at that as I would like to be. Meeting with the parents, one on one, gives me a chance to really notice how helpful, diligent, cooperative, or just plain nice most of my kids are.

My second favorite part about conferences is hearing variations of these words: "My son/daughter just LOVES being in your class. She/he is so excited to get to school each day!" Parent-teacher communication tends to focus on the problems, and the parents who feel this way rarely see a need to get in touch with me. (This goes the other way too. I don't like spending my evening on the phone, so I tend not to call the parents of the well-behaved.) If the next two days go like last night did, I might be set with a store of compliments that will last me through the end of the year!

Brothers and Sisters

2007-11-10T14:36:00.001-08:00

Have I mentioned lately how amazing my siblings are?

Shanta - performing all the task involved in raising 4 happy, healthy, active children while holding a high-stress job that involves caring for the well-being of other people, dealing with the depth and breadth of everyday challenges that life can throw at you with humor and perseverance

Tyson - attending a variety of high level math and science courses and maintaining exceptional grades while holding a job and establishing a solid plan for his future, in a long-term relationship with a very nice girl, displaying a depth of caring and understanding that is incredibly rare in his generation

Brooks - also taking a wide range of extremely challenging classes and performing exceptionally well, clearly illustrating that it is possible to change the path of your life given the proper strength of character, constantly teaching me something fascinating about politics, geology, botony, or whatever else has captured his interest

For a long time, through the happenstance of birth order, I was ahead of my siblings in the game of life. I went to college first, I moved out on my own first, I got married first. Suddenly, they are catching up to and surpassing me in so many ways. I am constantly amazed at the adults my brothers and sister are becoming. I have always loved these three as siblings, but I find myself developing a deeper respect for their individual talents and knowledge. They each have abilities in areas that complete baffle me. So, let me state for the record:
My siblings ROCK.

Stuff I've Been Thinking About

2007-11-10T14:00:00.000-08:00

1. Work
Between getting ready for conferences (testing, report cards, etc) and covering extra hours as Escuela del Sol, I have been working some long hours. I left home by 7:00 am every morning this week. I returned home at 8:30, 7:30, 8:30, 10:00, and 10:00. Long days. Surprisingly, (aside from a particularly rough Tuesday) I have been able to maintain a fairly positive attitude despite my lack of sleep or personal time. Yay, me! I now get to enjoy a 3 day weekend (thanks, veterans).

Conferences start on Tuesday. The students go home early all three days, allowing me to finish my meetings at a more reasonable hour. It is still emotionally draining to be "performing" for parents for such an extended period. My first conferences start at 1:30 and I am booked almost constantly until 5:30 on Tues, Wed, and Thurs. I know that there are many jobs that require you to be in meetings for extended periods of time, but rarely are people required to justify their job performance to 30 different bosses in back to back meetings. :) Wish me luck.

2. XM Channel 130 - POTUS '08
I have finally found a news station that is worth listening to. Most news sources are so flooded with less-than-vital information that it is difficult to filter out the stuff worth knowing. I really don't care who won the 35th annual Cookie Bake-Off in Podunk, MO. Nor do I need to hear anything further about Brittney Spears and her poor parenting skills. On POTUS '08, I get to hear news that is directly related to the upcoming presidential election. This combines my need for "high value" news with my interest in being somewhat educated about this important decision. They seem to give balanced time to both red and blue candidates and their supporters. (I say seem to because I only listen for the time it takes me to drive to work and back. I can't vouch for the rest of the hours.) I get to hear the candidates' ideas straight from their own mouths, and the few filler things they run are focused on presidential history - odd facts and Today In History type things. Entertaining AND informative.

3. Tutoring
When I first thought about opening EdS, I was worried that I was going to resent having to spend time tutoring in the afternoons. Typically by the time my students leave at 3:15, I am usually exhausted and the only thing I want to do is go home. However, walking into my own business seems to revitalize me. It helps that my tutoring kids are all quite pleasant to work with. I get a huge kick out of working with them on a more individual basis and seeing them make progress from week to week. It's a good feeling.

4. Parental Visit
Mom is coming to visit! :) I am especially excited about this because she hasn't been out this way since my wedding, 5 years ago. So much has changed since then, and I can't wait to show her everything - the dogs, the house/property, my school and Escuela. Luckily, I have a 3 day weekend in which to clean and prepare for her arrival. Not that she's that picky - but I want to show the place off a little. :)

5. Observation
I was observed by my principal this week. She is a tough one to read sometimes, and when she left I had no idea whether she had enjoyed my lesson or not. At our debriefing afterward she had lots of very nice things to say. She praised my growth and development as a teacher since she first (and last) observed me 4 years ago. She also complimented my classroom management, the tone of my room, and my ability to model/explain concepts to students. It was a wonderful meeting and I left feeling as though she was very glad to have me on her staff. I haven't been too worried about that, but it's nice to know that she didn't hire me just because someone said she had to give me a place. She truly appreciated the things I do, both in the classroom and as part of our school-wide community. That is an EXCELLENT feeling.

All is Well

2007-11-01T06:44:00.000-07:00

Sorry to be in absentia during such a worrisome time. We're fine. No fires near us, just all around us: Escondido is just south, Irvine is just north, Fallbrook is just east, and Julian is just west of us. We saw smoke and some flames from our place, but they were many miles off in the distance. No real danger. Just enough to stir up that instinctual "FIRE BAD!" response in me. I'm not sure if it is related to my control-freak personality, residual caveman genes, or distant childhood memories, but my fear of larger fires borders on the irrational.

Anyway - no problems here. I wish I could say the same for everyone else in Southern California. Fortunately, as a community we have banded together and we're taking care of our own. Thanks for the concern...

I now return you to the regularly scheduled lack of posts. (Hopefully that is a joke, but with report cards and conferences just around the corner, I suspect it's not. Sorry.)

Snuggle Kitty

2007-10-12T20:50:00.000-07:00

Bonsai, our wacky orange cat, has become extremely affectionate lately. I don't know if it is because I haven't been around as much or if it's just a phase he's going through, but I like it. When I walk past him, he gets as high up as he can and then reaches his paws up to my shoulder. That's his way of saying, "pick me up". He then gazes at me adoringly and rubs his cheek against mine. When I lay on the couch, he climbs under my blanket and flops into my lap. The only time I don't like this new attention is at 3:00 am when he climbs onto my chest, tickles my face with his whiskers, and drools on me.

Must be Friday.

2007-10-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

I never could get the hang of Fridays. I know the reference is to Tuesdays, but it's Fridays that are kicking my butt this year. I just can't seem to get the hang of them. I spend the whole day running from one thing to the next, never quite keeping up. The kids recognize this and take full advantage. Fridays are always their most chatty, chaotic day. Instead of being able to gently and humorously redirect them, I have to get very strict to keep them on track. As much as I would like to spend every Friday playing with them, we have a limited amount of time in which to complete a magnitude of activities. My Fridays are remarkably akin to herding a roomful of yowling, energetic cats through a waterfall. Damn near impossible.

Is Anyone Here?

2007-10-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

I bet you thought I was gone for good this time. But I'm not. It's just that with my full-time school job and my part-time tutoring job I don't have much time left over for anything else: breathing, sleeping, blogging...

So, what am I up to these days?

1. Teaching - I'm having a great year, albeit a busy one. I have 30 students, each with their own abilities, challenges, and personality quirks. Despite my certainty on the first day that I was never going to get comfortable, I am actually getting to know them pretty well. They are a very helpful, sweet, TALKATIVE group. Some days it's hard for me to get a word in edgewise! There is no hope of getting them to stop. I can only hope that they will learn to focus and direct their conversation a little. As usual, the day to day workings of fifth grade keep me hopping. I am also part of the Student Success Team (extra support for struggling students) and the Caught Building Character (we rode scooters at our Friday Flag Salute last week!) program. Oh! And I am the library liaison for my grade level. I am getting to know the members of my team, and I get the feeling that we're going to work well together (lots of different personalities, all fun).

2. Tutoring - I am pleased to be able to say that we are starting the month of October with enough clients to pay the rent each month. Woohoo! I currently work 3 hours and my partner is working a bunch more. We are covering a wide range of ages (7 - 12 years old) and topics (reading, writing, math, study skills). We're having a lot of fun, and I am looking forward to business picking up enough for me to revisit my need for other employment. :)

3. Dieting - The doctor put me on a low-carb diet in an effort to control my cholesterol. Turns out I might be part of a small percentage of the human population who can eat all the cholesterol they want as long as I keep the carbs down. Just another of the fun genetic twists I inherited! I am doing better on this diet than I thought I would. If you know me, you know that I am a total Carb Queen. Mike has been working hard to keep me fed with interesting low-carb foods (he's a great cook!) and I have been exercising a great amount of restraint. There are 2 things about this diet that are helping me keep on track. First, I have very few cravings. If I smell something really great like french fries or toast, it's a struggle, but for the most part I don't really feel a NEED for carbs. Secondly, I have lost nearly 10 pounds. In the past, I have busted my butt, dieting and exercising like a maniac, without losing a pound. This time, the pounds are just melting off me. Not only have I lost the weight, but I can actually SEE the difference. My stomach, which has been distinctly un-flat since the kidney transplant, is on its way to my pre-college days. Fun!

Okay. There is lots more to tell you, but I'm not sure what it is. I will try to come back again soon. But I wouldn't recommend holding your breath. :)

it's the little things that give me away

2007-08-11T10:11:00.000-07:00

If you were to sit and have lunch with me today we would probably talk at length about the two exciting things that are soon occuring in my life: starting a new school year at a new school, opening a new business. I would seem calm and confident, exuding enthusiasm for both projects equally. You would later tell someone how impressed you are with my ability to take on such challenges and still remain so relaxed and energetic.

That is because I wouldn't mention how hard it is for me to fall asleep these days. Or how I look for any excuse to keep sleeping in the morning. I won't tell you how much hair I find in the drain after a shower in the morning. You wouldn't notice how I avoid moving my right arm too often or too quickly due to that pain that just won't go away.

I am very excited about my new classroom. I can't wait to meet my new team and my new students. I am thrilled that I am making an attempt at a dream I have had for some time. I am just as enthusiastic as I seem, but I am in no way as confident as I look. I am terrified by both of these new things, and it's the little things that give me away.

For You?

2007-08-11T09:48:00.000-07:00

Often I am struck by a particular group of lyrics while listening to music. Most of the time it is something that is relevant to my own life, but every once in a while I get hung up on words that don't feel like they are for me. This has happened to me twice lately...

Performer: SONiA
Album:No Bomb is Smart
Song: "Won't Let Go"

don't let go
just hold on
keep your eye on the road
and your heart in a song
whatever happened is already gone
don't let go

Obviously this is a message that applies to many people, and I have always liked it, but lately it seems to be persistently trying to get through to someone. Since there are a number of people who might be needing it now, I am posting it here and hoping the perhaps it will get through to its intended recipient.

Performer: Bill Staines
Album: First Million Miles
Song: 'Phoenix'

Oh, Lord, have mercy on this poor, poor heart.
Take it from the ashes
and teach it how to fly again.
Oh, Lord, have mercy on this poor, poor heart.

I am quite fond of this album, but I have never paid much attention to this song until my MP3 player started playing it obsessively. Bill has such an expressive voice that I just want to cry thinking about being in such pain that you would cry out like this. Again, I'm not sure who this applies to (pain seems to be fairly common these days), but I hope it reaches that person.

Escuela update

2007-08-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

We are a business in everything but actual work now. We have our location (accessible on the 15th), we have our name, license, tax ID, and bank account. Everything is ready for us to actually get started. Now we just need to...get started. Some upcoming goals...
Aug. 20 - Flyers ready to go out to schools (want them out there by the 23rd so we hit back to school night!)
Sept. 5 - Open House (need to have our sign, brochures, sign up paperwork, materials and environment all set by then)

Yikes!

See?

2007-08-04T08:22:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when I start to whine and complain about my own health. I get a reminder of just how good it really is. Amy went back to Mayo this week because her creatinine levels were headed in the wrong direction. She had to undergo all kinds of tests and probes, including a biopsy of her transplant kidney. While the kidney is obviously not a happy camper at the moment, there are no signs of rejection either.

I'm not egotistical enough to think that all that happened just to remind me that I am relatively healthy and I should appreciate it. But it has that effect. The few pills I take are ones that I am choosing to take in an effort to avoid later problems. If I forget them or run out I am not going to end up in the hospital or worse. My lack of exercise it due to lack of motivation and effort, not lack of ability. High cholesterol, while carrying a few long term health risks, is not an immediately life threatening situation. All in all, I am an incredibly lucky individual and I do realize it.

I think the real issue here is that I am realizing that I am no longer as healthy as I once was. I am mourning the days when I could move furniture without pulling a muscle, eat whatever I wanted without first considering its calories/fat/cholesterol/sodium/protein, and sleep through the night without waking up to sore joints. You lose a certain amount of freedom and innocence as you reach the point of having to take care of yourself, and I am just coming to terms with that. I know that I am not old (again, I'm younger than all but 3 of the adults in my life, and those are my siblings), but I am not really young anymore either. I'm sure everyone goes through this, but it's hard when my 30 year old body won't/can't do what my 20 year old brain wants to do.

Anyway. Just wanted to tell everyone that they should aim any sympathetic feelings they may have had for me over toward Amy's kidney and related parts. Technically, that's still feeling sorry for me. :)

No Need for Food

2007-08-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

Please note: My health problems are miniscule compared to those of just about everyone I know. However, they are MINE and consequently seem important to me. I apologize to everyone who is reading this and thinking "What a baby. She should see what I have to go through every day."

Since my last visit to the doctor, I have begun taking a variety of pills and supplements. Each morning, I take 2 glucosamine (for my bad joints), 1 fish oil (for the joints and the cholesterol), and 1 multivitamin (to make up for my deficient iron and B12). None of these pills is smaller than the end of my pinkie finger, and by the time I finish choking them down I am too full for breakfast. Or maybe my lack of interest in breakfast is because I consider that to be medication, too. 1/2 cup of oatmeal every morning to aid in reducing my cholesterol. Meh. What I really want is a couple of scrambled eggs, slathered in cheese and wrapped in a tortilla. The really sad thing is that my cholesterol continues to go up, so I am going to be forced to add yet another pill to my routine. Hooray for genetics!

Yikes!

2007-07-20T17:15:00.000-07:00

It's done. We signed the lease papers for Escuela del Sol today. We get to pick up the keys on Aug. 15th and we will hopefully be doing business by Sept. 1.

I own a business.

Hehe.

FYI

2007-07-15T14:15:00.000-07:00

Nothing much happening here. Only have internet access when I got to the public library, thanks to our crappy satellite and it's crappy crappiness. They're coming out to work on it someday. Until then...you won't see much of me.

So Busy

2007-07-10T23:10:00.001-07:00

Today we...

...checked out a space for our business to be located. It was very nice. Just the right size, reasonably priced (compared to local stuff anyway), lots of natural light, comfortable neighborhood, adequate parking, nice owners. We're still looking around, but in my gut it feels like this is the place.

...went to the dentist. I have 3 cavities. THREE?!!? I don't know who was more shocked, myself or my dentist. I never get cavities. To be fair, one is an old filling going bad, and the other two are back to back between a couple of teeth (so they should really only count as one!). I'm bummed though. I have to have 2 more visits back. Bleh. Luckily, my dentist is kind and gentle and only slightly religiously nuts. :)

...went to the doctor. Mikey had a follow up on his visit to the ER last week. Things are much better now, but the doc sent him to get his back x-rayed. She wants to know if there is a reason to send him to the specialists for further attention. She's also sending him to the tummy folks, something he has needed but put off for some time, so I guess there will be good coming from this craziness.

...went to the blood bank. Mikey wasn't feeling up to it, but I gave a unit. I try to go as soon as I am eligible (every 2 months). It is a good idea, if you're capable. There are lots who need it. I am a universal donor, so I figure it's particularly important for me to give.

...watched the new Bruce Willis movie. He's still yummy even though he's getting old. (Shhh...don't tell Mikey I said that!) The movie wasn't great, and some of the dramatic action scenes were a little silly, but it was fun. Plus, Kevin Smith is in it. Hooray!

...bought Orange Guard, which is supposed to repel ants. We have been having serious ant trouble lately, and this is our compromise. I am perfectly willing to sacrifice some karma points killing the little buggers, but Mikey is a gentleman and would like us to deal with the issue non-violently. The compromise was that we would use the Orange stuff to keep them out, but I toasted the ones that were already in. This stuff better work, or I am going to start breaking out the heavy duty poison.

...bought an edger. We are going to be setting up an invisible fence (of the underground variety) in a further attempt to keep the dogs on our property. It will follow the same perimeter as the regular fence, and will hopefully keep them from getting close enough to dig out. This is getting a little rediculous. We will then have a 6 foot chain link fence, fortified with shock wire and the top and bottom and protected by another hidden wire that first beeps and then zaps the silly creatures. So much work for two goofy black dogs. I can't stand the alternatives though.

Time for bed. Another busy day tomorrow. G'night.

Holy Adreneline Rush, Batman!

2007-07-06T10:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was quite an adventure for us. And not the kind I want to repeat any time soon. It all started with a pain in Mikey's right shoulder.

It felt like a crick in his neck from sleeping funny (he slept in a chair due to heartburn), but it came on very rapidly around 10 am. He went from feeling fine, to not being able to lift his right arm or turn his head at all without intense pain. He spent about an hour resting uncomfortably on the bed, and then decided to get up to make some toast.

It was very painful for him to stand, and by the time he got to the kitchen, he needed to sit down. He was very lightheaded and dizzy. When he said he was having trouble hearing, I turned to look at him. I had just enough time to notice how blue/white his lips were and get concerned before he passed out. I was close enough to catch him before he fell off the chair.

I was actually thinking that it would be a good thing for him (he hadn't been taking very good breaths because of the shoulder pain) and that he would feel better when he woke up before I realized that he wasn't breathing at all. Instantly, I became that hysterical girl in the movies, slapping him and shouting for him to wake up. I laid him down on the floor and ran for the phone. All I could think was "Shit - I don't think I remember how to do CPR."

Eventually (in a matter of seconds, I'm sure, although it felt like several minutes), I managed to dial 911. Just as they were answering, Mikey started to shake and make choking noises. I rolled him over on his side (I remembered that much from my seizure training) as I was telling the 911 Operator that "there is something wrong with my husband and I need an ambulance". She got our information and sent out the Fire Rescue vehicle and an ambulance. While we waited I was a wreck, but Mike calmly reminded me to do things in preparation of leaving. I got him shoes and socks, fed the cats, etc. He directed it all from his prone position on the kitchen floor.

After about 15 minutes, the paramedics showed up and took over. They asked all kinds of questions and took all kinds of vital signs. Everything seemed okay for the moment, but they suggested that Mikey take a little ride to the ER anyway. Considering how pale he was, I thought it was a good idea. What I wasn't so thrilled with was the idea that I wasn't allowed to ride with him. So, they took off with him and I stood alone in the kitchen wondering what the hell to do next.

I called his parents and told them briefly what had happened and where he was going to be. I then tried to think of what we would need in the off chance that he would end up staying the night. I managed to pack him a toothbrush, hairbrush, and book. I got stuck as I stood in my closet. Most of my brain was shouting "just pick something!" but part of it was very concerned with whether each shirt would be appropriate for the weather and the environment and the company. It was very strange what my brain would get hung up on as I tried to get ready to go. I finally decided that I couldn't wait any longer, grabbed my purse, and jumped in the car.

At the hospital, I walked in and asked them where I might find my husband. "He would be in there...but we have some important papers you need to sign here." Stupid red tape. I finally signed enough of my life away that they were willing to let me back to see him. He was on a bed, in the hallway. This is apparently how things work in this overcrowded hospital. Despite the less-than-satisfactory location, we were happy with the doctor and the nurse who were attending him. They were very kind and seemed to know what they were doing. The nurse was quite amusing, guessing our weights and throwing out little political barbs.

They did a series of diagnostic tests, mostly wanting to rule out anything heart related and to make sure there wasn't any internal bleeding happening anywhere. He had a chest x-ray, an EKG, bloodwork, and regular PB/pulse/O2/etc readings. Several hours later, they decided that it was all a result of his shoulder pain, which was muscle related. The pain was bad enough that when he stood up his dilated blood vessels weren't up to the job of getting blood (and therefore oxygen) to his brain. He fainted and somehow his breathing got messed up (this is the part I don't understand so well). His brain, in an attempt to get things back in working order hit the "Reset" button, causing the the shaking/seizure-like stuff. They gave him some heavy duty pain meds and some muscle relaxants and sent him home.

I didn't sleep very well, trying to make sure that Mikey was still breathing and getting him to take his medications and such. But this morning, he was looking much better. His shoulder still hurts, and he refuses to take the pain meds because they might make him nauseated, but he's taking the muscle relaxants and moving much better than before. The whole thing was really not such a big deal, and he was never in much real danger, but I will never forget how awful it was to look at his completely slack face and realize that I couldn't see any breathing.

Okay...enough. Time to take him out for ice cream. It is 100.5 F here. Bleh.

Speaking of our Government...

2007-07-04T14:53:00.000-07:00

It's easy to get caught up in the beauty of the buildings and the honor of the ideals that Washington represents. Before too long, however, someone does something to remind me of how far we've drifted from the intentions of our Founding Fathers.

Rather than try to sound intelligent on this issue, I will just point you to this Special Comment by Keith Olbermann. Mr. Olbermann takes a good 10 minutes of MSNBC's airtime to throw down the gauntlet. If only Bush/Cheney were men enough to take it up. It's a sad day in history when we are challenging our leaders to be as noble as Richard Nixon.

You both crossed the Rubicon yesterday. Which one of you chose the route, no longer matters. Which is the ventriloquist, and which the dummy, is irrelevant. But that you have twisted the machinery of government into nothing more than a tawdry machine of politics, is the only fact that remains relevant.
It is nearly July 4th, Mr. Bush, the commemoration of the moment we Americans decided that rather than live under a King who made up the laws, or erased them, or ignored them — or commuted the sentences of those rightly convicted under them — we would force our independence, and regain our sacred freedoms.

Amen.

You can read the transcript here, but you really need to see it to get the full emotion behind it. You-tube has it up here.

Washington Pictures

2007-07-04T14:26:00.001-07:00

~Arlington Cemetery~

Standing in the middle of Arlington, seeing row after row of gravestones as far as the eye can see, has to be one of the most heartbreaking things I've experienced.

There is a section of Arlington reserved for Supreme Court Justices.

JFK and wife are buried here, marked with the Eternal Flame. After Kennedy was buried here, they had to put stronger restrictions on who was eligible. Everyone wanted to be in the same cemetery as he was.

Another heartbreaking sight. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, memorializing all those who have died defending our country. Despite my feeling about war and violence, I can still be grateful to those who have given their lives to protect us.

~D.C. Monuments and Buildings~
Our first stop was the Korean War Memorial.

Our guide described the Korean War as the "forgotten" war. It is often forgotten there between WWII and Vietnam, but that doesn't make the sacrifices of those soldiers and their families any less important.

Being abused by the Right to justify taking away our constitutional freedoms doesn't make this statement any less true. We have paid greatly for our freedom throughout the years.

The next stop was the Lincoln Memorial.

Walking up those steps was tiring. I relished the ache in my legs and let it remind me how so many struggled and fought for those rights that I take for granted today.

Anywhere the states are listed in D.C. they are put in order of statehood. Until taking this picture, I had never noticed that WI, CA, and MN all fall right in a row. My three homestates.

Martin Luther King, Jr. stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial for his "I Have a Dream" speech. It is marked (very subtly) with this engraving.

Definitely one of my heroes. He just LOOKS like someone you could talk to, you know?

From Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address.

From Lincoln's Gettysburg Address.

The Washington Monument standing elegantly behind the reflecting pool. I'm disappointed in how dark this picture turned out, but it's still an amazing sight.

We then went to the Vietnam Memorial.

I love the image of the hand supporting a fellow human. If only we could memorialize more acts of kindness and support and fewer acts of war and violence.

So many names. There were several letters and photographs along its length. The one that got me was about a dog which had been adopted by a soldier. She would greet his helicopter after each run. After he died, she continued to meet each chopper, waiting in vain for his return.

The reality of war. People die. There is pain and suffering. War is bad.

Finally, we went to Pennsylvania Avenue.

The building which houses the executive branch of our government.

The building which houses the legislative branch of our government. The flags above the right and left wings let us know that both the Senate and the House were in session that day.

Virginia Pictures

2007-07-04T12:42:00.000-07:00

On this fourth of July, I share with you my pictures from Virginia and Washington, D.C.

~Colonial Williamsburg~

An important government building during Colonial times.

A silversmith at work.

A pewtersmith's shop.

A kiln used for firing bricks. Notice how the bricks are different colors in different areas. This is due to the difference in temperature during the firing.

A giant stack of bricks, ready to be used in building.

The Williamsburg armory. It was from this building that King George's men confiscated gunpowder, upsetting the colonists and contributing to the start of the Revolutionary War.

The mansion of the Williamsburg Governor.

~Monticello: Home of Thomas Jefferson~

The house where Thomas Jefferson lived. I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside, but there were some very cool things. He had a Museum of Curiosities in his entryway, and a gigantic library (of teeny, tiny books).

Jefferson had a huge, beautiful garden. He organized it according to which part of the plant was used (roots, fruit, leaves).

Check out those copper pans. The kitchen was located on the lower level and the opposite side of the house as the dining room (I think this had something to do with keeping the heat out of the main house during the summer?).

Jefferson wrote his own epitaph, identifying the Dec. of Independence, the Virginia Constitution, and the University of Virginia as his greatest accomplishments.

~Mount Vernon: Home of George Washington~

Again, internal pictures were forbidden, but I was able to get these of the outside. Washington lived a lavish life, complete with fancy bright green paint and a plethora of guest rooms.

A brief (but important) aside -

2007-07-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

I promised these pics a long time ago and then forgot all about them. I came across them as I prepared my Washington pics for uploading, so here they are...

My heart dances for each of you every day. Keep fighting, Kate.

Happy 4th of July!

2007-07-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

July 4th, 1776. One of the few dates I actually require my students to memorize! :)

I don't feel very festive today, since I spent all of Saturday celebrating the 4th. It seems as though this should be just another day. Except that the Post Office isn't open. Meh.

In honor of our nation's independence, I am going to post some of my pictures from the Virginia/D.C. trip. What better way to remember our country's birth than to show pictures of her birthplace? :) If I can get them from the camera onto my computer that is...