Bits and Pieces

2012-01-09T18:12:00.000-06:00

So Finally, I'm blogging. What for? In order to upload to Pinterest!
Yep. I'm that addicted to social media. Use my precious blog to feed the frenzy!

2011-08-19T18:20:00.002-05:00

RANDOM THOUGHTS OF A TEACHER

Sitting in my classroom this afternoon I opened an email that warned: " Two Worst Foods for Weight Gain." I, of course, was munching on hot wings dipped in potatoes and gravy. (That makes the best dip for wings!!) Yum! I stopped mid-mouth. Oops. No, I can keep chowing down. Two worst foods? Potato chips and soda. Whew! I didn't have either.

The next email contained five questions to diagnose ADHD:

Have great difficulty wrapping up the loose ends on projects?

Have trouble staying organized?

Miss appointments or obligations?

Procrastinate on big projects that require thought?

Have trouble sitting still?

Struggle with restless energy?

What? Like all the paper lying around my classroom; the stacks of chairs; the unpacked supplies; my home office that stays buried in piles of paper; my living room curtains that still need to be sewn (since Christmas); my habit of sharpening pencils. Although I generally don't have trouble sitting still. At least not my body sitting still. My mind, on the other hand, is most often a whirlwind. My body is tired enough of late that it isn't physical restless energy, but the mental kind sure. Get me some Rit*alin! Quick!

However, I have accomplished some things!

School starts on Monday, for teachers. Students come on Wednesday. I've been working for two weeks to get my classroom set up, books on shelves, bulletin boards up, desks arranged, curriculum ready for one more year. Today was productive.

Purchased and cut gutters to serve as book display.

Bought two new plants: a fern and a Brown-eyed Susan

Put posters on wall - (bought the tape with which to mount)

One more section in the writer's notebook (teacher version)

Bought last of supplies (I've spent at least $700 on supplies and stuff this summer)

Copies for first three lessons requested

This weekend: Finish the writer's notebook (And just maybe finish the curtains!)

Monday: Tidy up the room

Organize my desk area

Finish the PBIS brochure

Consult the core about the website, begin maintenance

Start core brochure

Tuesday: Panic because all of the above is not done!!!

Wednesday: Fake it really well when the kids arrive!! Aren't we excited about his year???

Well, folks. That's the first week of school for ya! I'll be sure and remember to leave off the chips and soda. So glad I read that!!!

Bulletin Board -- Done!

Gutters/shelves purchased

Me, doing the Vanna White thing

Boston Fern

Brown-eyed Susans

Sunflowers

A poetry bulletin board

Another view of the shelved books and bulletin board

The entry welcome!

Aha! Still to do!! Papers everywhere!

More piles and stack of STUFF!

Stacks and piles of other stuff!!

TaTa for Now!

2011-08-14T08:01:00.001-05:00

An idea

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

Ephesians 5:29-32

I love social media. It's given me so many opportunities to connect with people I otherwise might not even know. And the re-connections! To see how my childhood friends have grown and blossomed has been nothing but a blessing.

There's one feature I would like to build in, though- something that Christians could have installed on their accounts as a safeguard: a passion-delay option. When someone's feeling especially riled up, it would be great for a little screen to pop up with the following questions before they change their status:

Did you pray about this?
Are you being kind? Even to your enemies?
Are you helping the situation?
Are you sure this is true?
If an unbeliever reads this, will it draw them to Christ?
What is your honest motivation?
Is this truly a prayer request, or is this an attempt to find a loophole big enough to slip gossip through?
Are your words causing unity or division?
Would this be better leftunsaid?
Is anyone going to be hurt or stumbled by this?
Who will benefit from this post?
Would this be better said privately?
Are you SURE you don't want to cool down before you post this?

Wouldn't it be nice if this feature existed? Wouldn't it be nice if everyone used it?

It makes me cringe when I see someone I love post remarks on FB or Twitter that are clearly meant to be a barb at someone else I love. Do they realize the rocks they throw hit other people in the crossfire? Are they aware of the pain they're causing? Do they worry that the world is watching us tear each other apart? I can't know.

Here's what I do know- it's making me much more aware of the words I use in social media. When I feel compelled to complain about service in a store, I am going to remember that it's someone's livelihood. When I want to insult a person's outfit, I'm going to remember that the wearer is someone's child. When I feel compelled to take a stab at someone's church leadership, I am going to remember the congregants. If I wanna say something about a celebrity or politician, I'm going to remember that person has a mother, a child, or a spouse who loves them. Above all, I'm going to try to be really mindful of the fact that Christ died for all sinners, not just me.

I can't control what other people write, but I can be more careful about what I write. Will you join me in an effort to make social media a brighter place?

May God bless us all.

(Courtesy of His Girl )

2011-04-27T22:33:00.001-05:00

THE FIRST SENIOR MOMENT

That's what happened to the dinosaurs!

2011-03-20T14:06:00.001-05:00

Don't forget to take the Garbage Out

By PJDHuerta

Euodia and Syntyche, saints without doubt,

Would not take the garbage out!

They'd pray in the altar and sing in the choir,

Teach little children, to sing higher and higher.

They'd give of their tithes every nickel and dime;

They'd go feed the poor every single time.

Reading the Bible was fun to do;

Memorize scripture, they knew quite a few.

They would wash the windows and polish the sash;

They simply would not take out the trash.

Deep in each heart, it piled up every day.

They wouldn't let go, no siree, no way.

Each offense they remembered and harbored them near.

They could quote much gossip they happened to hear.

They knew every sin of every member.

Some dating back past the year 51, November.

Every fault, every error of each saint on the way,

They kept tight in their hearts -- refusing to say

"I forgive. God forgives. There is grace for you.

We can pray gaining strength every day, anew."

It piled high in each heart, the injury to self.

The things people said, stored safe on a shelf.

They remembered well every jot and tittle.

"You don't belong. You're too Ugly and Little"

In each brain echoed daily, the faults that were found,

The list of the failings, tossed round and round.

It kept them from living each day to it's fill.

It kept each soul in a permanent chill.

That garbage piled high it blinded the view.

Grumbling set in, depression, too.

Finally, Syzygus, in sheer desperation,

Called them aside, despite aggravation.

"You very well know God doesn't like grudges.

Here in this church, we can't act like judges.

Jesus himself set us an example.

On Love, we don't dare to trample.

Forgive one another; be friends; learn to trust.

Trample your differences into the dust."

And so they did, cheerfully, no bickering.

Not even a sneer or an eyebrow flickering.

They cleared out their hearts with a cheerful smile,

Remembering God's goodness all the while.

The Master came by and offered free

to cast it all out to the sea.

"Please do." they echoed with felicity.

"We need to be free of toxicity."

And so with a smile and a happy shout,

Euodia and Syntyche took the garbage out!

2011-02-12T19:08:00.000-06:00

And I thought we had a lot of snow!

2011-01-23T22:32:00.000-06:00

RANDOM THOUGHTS

      I really have to learn to use my cell phone for recording stuff. Stuff, like ideas. I think of the most marvelous things to blog about...when I'm driving, when I'm sitting in church, when I'm up singing.   Whenever I'm in a situation that I can't write down my ideas.    And now.....when I'm settled in nicely ready to write....my brain freezes. Completely.    I could blame it on chemofog...but it's been almost 3 years since I finished chemo. The brain does heal itself. So I'm thinking I have to admit that part of it, at least, is simply due to age. There I said it!

   Like this morning, I'm looking in the mirror and trying to fix whatever it was that happened with the primer for the eye makeup that I was applying. Little globs of "stuff" appear. Not very attractive "stuff." While cleaning it all off to start over again, I noticed that woman in the mirror. "Who is that old woman looking at me?" Or maybe I should be politically correct and clean up my thoughts to myself about myself. (Do I need to do that?) Probably not, but as a teacher, it's habit.

   So, the "elderly lady" in the mirror. What happened? What happened to the face that used to greet me every morning?    The face went from Bible School, through a couple of assistant pastoral stints, then to a missions assignment. And a couple of baby boys born. Life in the jungle for a few years. Life in a mile-high city in South America for another year. Steamy jungle; dry mountain air. Then back to the mid-west for a few decades. A few decades of assisting, pastoring, studying, (a bachelor's degree, a master's degree, a Psy.D, a teaching certificate, a couple of endorsements, etc.) a liver donation, breast cancer and chemotherapy. A few side jobs squeezed in there somewhere: immigration counseling, administrative assistant, counselor, emergency room consultant. Always the pastoral work, public school teaching, parenting and grandparenting. I suppose the wrinkles are well-earned. Every dry spot, every scar, every droop and jiggle of skin. All well-earned.   All contribute to the look of that stranger in the mirror.

   Interestingly, inside I feel much the same. Still have hopes and dreams, things I'd like to accomplish. However, with the miles comes some wisdom, with wisdom, a measure of peace. So....as the cup a friend gave me for Christmas says:

"ALL I REALLY WANT ... IS PEACE ON EARTH AND A CUTE PAIR OF SHOES!!!

Blessings!!

or three...!!! (Models: Hubby & Granddaughters, 12-31-08

2010-12-20T21:44:00.000-06:00

It's a Winter Wonderland World out there!

Right above this tree is where the moon would be if it were not hidden by clouds and snow. So much for staying up to see the Lunar Eclipse tonight.

Home, where the heart is!

The empty chair by the fireplace where I'm headed as soon as I finish with these pictures!!

Snow falls softly outside, a snow globe world where all is silent in a blanket of white. Huge flakes falls, adding volume to beautiful, awful piles of snow.

Merry Christmas! A Savior Is Born! (E-Card)

2010-12-11T19:45:00.000-06:00

2010-12-04T12:35:00.000-06:00

Over-Stimulated Teens

The amount of words and ideas that I am unable to use due to over-sexualized boys this year is amazing. Story Topics like "My favorite Toy" (Okay it was dumb to have on a list -- one I procured from another school) in a list of 50 ideas, resulted in the disruption of 30 students for several minutes. I am appalled at the lack of parental supervision, at the lack of control over these children.

For 25 years I've taught public school adolescents and have never had a group this reactionary. It makes teaching tantamount to walking on eggs. I can't even remember what previous triggers have been this year; they are many and diverse. The entire English language is mostly off-limits to these little boys who have been subjected to an adult-oriented world that I can only guess at. They listen to music that contains vocabulary and innuendo that I neither know nor want to know. They watch the trashiest of TV programs and apparently believe that the world does or should operate on such lurid devices and with total lack of principle.

How does one teach common civility to such ill-bred children? How does one even have conversation, much less encourage them to explore memory and imagination when such as been contaminated by the basest and vilest that American media can offer?

I'm not ready to give up, nor am I ready to blame the victim, for I do see them as victims as much as little girls whoa re treated as sexual objects by perverted family members, other adults, or even by the same adolescent boys.

How does one go about rescuing the most vulnerable among us from the vile filth to be found online, in media and very possibly in their own homes?

Indeed, it seems as though this year will be spent putting Band-Aids on damaged psyches. However, at the same time, I must encourage them to find a healthy outlet for natural energy to be expected in adolescents and find some manner of helping them drain off the disgusting putrification that has collected due to damaging experiences.

Heaven help us all! No wonder I'm exhausted on a regular basis. It's a battlefield out there. Pray for teachers!! Pray for Students!!! Pray for parents!!

2010-11-26T22:07:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving Dinner

Appetizers: The food you eat before eating food.

Papa Entertains us all with a B-Me (Best Memory Ever)

Dinner: The food you eat

Dessert: The food you eat after eating food!

He's just resting his eyes!!!

The World's Slowest Game of Speed!!!

Happy Thanksgiving to all

2010-11-26T19:56:00.000-06:00

Post Thanksgiving with family

Great day: at home, on the train, at the John G. Shedd Aquarium in Chicago

2010-11-05T22:15:00.000-05:00

NaNoWriMo.org
I'm on the 30-day writing program!!
Bound to do a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.
So far I'm at 11,860 words

Here's the synopsis and an Excerpt. You can say you knew me "back when."

Synopsis: Run for the Hills

A precocious eleven year old from the hills attempts to solve a murder mystery and uncovers much more than she intended!

Excerpt: Run for the Hills

     Paw and James came in to the aroma of tomato soup and grilled cheese. Momma had Lucy beside her in the wooden highchair with a rabbit decal on the back. The chair had belonged first to James and then to me. Worse for the wear, it was Lucy’s now. At first I thought Paw wasn’t going to wait for the blessing today. However, he nodded at Momma, and she asked for God’s blessing on this food and this family. Then she prayed the Lord’s prayer. Her intensity increased at “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

     So much for not talking about anything with Momma. She already knew too much, maybe more than I knew.

     I’d taken only a couple of bites when we heard the sound of a car. That meant only one thing: the Sheriff had arrived.

2010-10-24T20:40:00.000-05:00

DRESS UP DAY

We played dress-up. I was the photographer; she was both model and director. She made the "sets" -- the first batch were more complicated, but I was trying out my new camera and something happened to the memory card. We lost all of them. These are the "re-do".

And here, we're very tired. "I didn't know a photographer and a model worked so hard. It looks easy, like they just sit around. Sitting makes you tired. This is hard work." I agreed with her!!!

2010-10-23T23:01:00.000-05:00

Does killing my estrogen mean I have more testosterone?

I think I'm beginning to understand how men feel. Today at the grands soccer game, I actually had to prevent myself from taking out a couple of dads... I so wanted to just stumble and fall and in the process grab the legs of a couple of idiots and take them down!!! Sounds good, huh?

The idea wasn't original; I'd seen a movie in which a woman with a cane would stumble, and, in the process of catching her balance, she'd take down some guy who'd just acted like jerk. The movie made me laugh. Or was it a tv show?

I'm blaming it on the hormone therapy. This isn't hormone REPLACEMENT therapy; this is hormone KILLER therapy! After hormone-laden breast cancer, they give stuff for five years designed to counteract the effect of estrogen. Estrogen is that chemical which makes females soft and sweet, love puppies and babies, and go all helpless when threatened. I'm thinking my estrogen is long-gone.

Seems to me that testosterone must be much higher since the estrogen is gone. Hence, the aggression. Reasonable theory, I think.

Today, I controlled myself and didn't even respond to the ignoramous who said, "way to take those players down" when his little BOY gave my little grandGIRL a shove, and she ended up "gushing" blood. (Her words!) I was seething. I controlled my self, barely.

I have 18 more months of hormone therapy. Next year.....I may just take him down!!!

2010-10-18T17:02:00.000-05:00

I'm Already Stuck and I Haven't Even Started

NaNoWriMo

If you read my last blog, you know I've signed up to write 50,000 words in the Month of Novmber. 50,000 words. How many is that? Okay, I just looked it up. About 250-300 words on a page if it is double-spaced 12 pt. type. Not as bad as my first count that I was calculating at 150 words per page. That's only 200 pages!!! 200 pages??? In 30 days.

Right now, I've decided to start by writing a 1-sentence summary of the book. I can't even do that. This book is about....uh.....someone trying to write a novel??? I really don't want to do a "seat of the pants" kind of book.

I intend to set a fiction story in the foothills of the Ozarks -- where I grew up. I've got a family figured out. Three kids: the eleven year old narrator, her older brother and younger sister. I'm thinking a mystery? Some kind of crime occurs....those hills are a good place to hide mj fields, lots of guns in use, so a murder over drugs??? Maybe. But I don't have a one-liner. I don't have three separate problems; I barely have the glimmer of an idea.

I think I'd better start glimmering quickly. October is nearly over, and November first I must start writing. In earnest!!

Hmmmm... Think!!! Think!!!

2010-10-17T20:06:00.000-05:00

How to Teach an Old Dog New Tricks

We were having a quiet worktime during science class. A girl raises her hand and asks, "Mrs. Huerta what does "Grenade" mean? "

I tried the standard answers: a small hand held explosive..

"No. When talking about a person. What does it mean to call a person a grenade."

I don't think I've ever heard it. Metaphorically, someone who explodes, as in a volley ball player who really gets into the game?

"No! It was a girl on the sidelines."

Smeone who gets angry easily?

"no. She was like...a girl with long blond hai."

Long blond hair doesn't have anything to do with a grenade. I turned to the young college student who happened to be observing that day and raised my eyebrow??

Embarrassed, she stuttered, "I think it means an ugly girl" Then in a whisper. "It's used on Jersey Shore that way."

The student was satisfied with "Ugly girl". HOWEVER, a couple of tables of boys who had stopped working to listen to the interchange, were giggling in that manner that all teachers know. You just can see when 13 year old boys are thinking about .... uh.... well, whenever the testosterone is flowing. They were giggling like third graders, heads together, glancing over their shoulder, giggling more.

So I walked to my computer and but in Urban Dictionary: Joisee Shoor (If you know what I mean). And...a grenade is indeed an ugly girl in a group of "hotties" and in order for males to gain entree to the "group" someone must "throw himself" on the grenade in order for them to get action in the group if you know what I mean.

I was aghast. First of all, that a term exists for that. Secondly that my 13-year old students know the word and what it means!! Apparently, more than the 20 year-old college student! I called her over to show her the explanation on my computer and she had an aha moment.

Then she asked, "How old are these kids?"

And we shared a moment of consternation in silence, staring at the students who were once again studying with heads bent over their books.

I suppose I shouldn't be shocked. But bad taste and degradation never fail to amaze me. I

realize that one cop-out would be that it is an expose' to demonstrate just how amazingly stupid certain groups can act. but it isn't.

It's a chance for decent people to live vicariously, live a life of degradation with all the cheap thrills that unlimited liquor consumption and unbridled human passion could provide while remaining safe on the living room sofa without the danger of STD's, the emotional, legal and physical danger that abandonment to the darker side would incur.

But it's also a chance for young teenagers to find heroes and role-models who lead them to believe that fun and freedom is found in that same unlimited liquor consumption and the release of unbridled human passion. It provides the opportunity for these children to learn from a dangerous source values that should be found in the classroom, in the family, in religious education.

Unfortunately, the parents of most of my children are busy working two and three jobs, and are unavailable or unable to block such programs from their tv's.

I respect the freedom of press, freedom of artistic expression. But there's also something within me that asks: "Isn't there a way to protect our children? All of our children!!!" And those students of mine? If they are not able to find values and grounding somewhere, they WILL become a problem for ALL of us!!! You can take that to the bank! Or back to MTV.

And in the meantime, I must find some way to instill the value of common decency in these students.

2010-10-13T19:00:00.001-05:00

NATIONAL NOVEL WRITING MONTH

National Novel Writing Month

I know that bloggers are often frustrated writers, like me!!!   So I decided to post this!   I joined NaNoWriMo. (Say that 5 times really fast!)   The deal is this: During the month of November I have to post 50,000 words.   All must be written in November.   No editing. (How could I edit? 50,000 words in a month? That's a lot of words.) For security you post scrambled, just to get the word count. On their site, they have a "scrambler"?? I've never heard of that except for the CIA. (You know, back when I was an operative! LOL    That's a joke!) I like spy novels and somebody is always scrambling something, even if it's only eggs!

So, scrambled or not, I'm writing for the month of November. I may resort to an all--nighter if I haven't finished by Thanksgiving weekend! Yikes. So my birthday present to myself will be -- 50,000 words!! Typos, bad metaphors, terrible dialog, flat characters and all. No. I'll take back the "flat characters." One thing I'm really good at is characterization.    The mystery may be trite, the dialog flat, but the setting and the characters will be alive!!

How about you??? Ready to write? Doesn't cost a thing!

2010-10-07T20:30:00.000-05:00

NEW BLOG

I opened a new blog specifically for ministry. I'll still be posting here for personal, family and funny stuff. The new blog is: Beauty For Ashes

I recently did an interview with Dan Willis on "I'm Just Sayin'" TCT TV. It will be available online for a few days longer. AT: I'm Just Sayin' I give my testimony about God's grace when I was diagnosed with breast Cancer. Through surgery and chemotherapy.

2010-10-04T18:25:00.000-05:00

ENJOY THE DAY

I could not resist publishing this. Funny since I've had anesthesia so many times, but it's still hysterical. In fact, I hope my doctors enjoyed their job this much. I also hope they were as good at their job as these guys!!!

ENJOY

2010-07-19T18:59:00.003-05:00

Biting off more than I can chew...no....freeze!

Ever think about something your parents did years ago and think, "That should be easy. I can do that."

I've always been secure in my ability to cook the old-fashioned way, from scratch. I make lots of old favorites just by throwing ingredients together: biscuits and gravy, chicken and dumplings, beans and ham, etc.

So when we changed a Tuesday night event to "Ice Cream Social", I figured I could easily mix a few batches of that old-fashioned home made ice cream we always made at my Grandma's house every 4th of July. I even remembered the old argument that always accompanied the mixing of milk, cream, sugar, eggs and such in the kitchen: "The junket tablet kind is better" was always my Dad's argument. Ice cream was the ONLY thing culinary he'd ever make. Maybe a pot of coffee if he got really desperate... But he prefered the "boiled" coffee!!

I decided to forget that old argument and just find recipes on the internet. (After all that's what Google is for!) and go for it.

I knew we wanted the custard kind of ice cream...so I have spent several hours mixing milk, cream, sugar, eggs, vanilla, in varying quantities and have come up with three batches of ice cream. Only one is actually frozen. The other two are in various stages of cooling down to be put in the freezer.

So tomorrow I shall spend with ice, salt and an old fashioned ice cream freezer in the hopes of coming up with two more batches of frozen stuff! It tastes good, so I've been more or less successful.

But let me tell you....it was not easy the way it always looked.

Maybe...if I had just opted for the "Junket" kind. . .

2010-07-13T09:37:00.014-05:00

Best Laid Plans

Headed out to school today to get the room organized. And here's what I found:

A Mess: Most stuff in the halls. Time to strip and wax the floors. Boxes stacked high on top of one another. My stuff and the previous occupant's stuff mixed... A mess.

I don't think this is a good idea. On to Plan B!!!! Back home.

Let's work on curriculum!!!

2010-07-08T16:17:00.002-05:00

Out and About
Vehicles and drivers

What is it that happens to people behind the wheel of a car? Some guy today wanted my attention so badly he nearly ran me off the road trying to get me to look at him ... I think. The road is unfamiliar to me and suddenly the right lane I'm in is closing down. No notice that I could see. The left lane had just enough space between the car just ahead of me and a truck with a landscape trailer just behind me (Both in the lane beside me!). So I schooch over to get in the lane. The guy in the pickup lays on the horn. I politely ignore him. We're sitting at a 4-way stop. First thing I know traffic has moved up, and he's right beside me, half in the one lane, half in the oncoming lane.

I'm sitting there thinking, "How rude." But I won't look his way.

Then a hear the window roll down and a voice yelling, "Hey! Hey, you."

Politely, I refuse to look his way. I mean obviously he's not going to yield to let me in even if he hits the oncoming traffic. He keeps yelling. Demurely, I keep my head down and don't even listen. So I turn right. I don't play chicken with a vehicle twice as big as mine....no, make that my son's car!! Soooooo. Pretty much the only thing left for me to do is make that right unless I want to get in a screaming match with the pickup truck!!! Shish!! What gives a guy so much adrenaline behind the wheel of a truck??

PHONES

I get a phone call today. After "dissing" me on the phone by pretending I was an answering machine, "Tell Pastor.... blah, blah," the guy rattles on. I made him acknowledge who I was.

"Oh, sure I remember you," I said. He then said hello. And of course he wants a favor.

Why would someone think I had forgotten him when he ditched on a project he volunteered to help me with? It's easy to forget mediocrity. But if you do a really bad job, you'll be remembered! Or, if you do a really excellent job, you'll be remembered.

But I didn't say any of that. Only that we were really booked up in July and August, but I'd pass the message along. And I did. I didn't even "forget."

And that's the news for today from Elgin's really beautiful Gail Borden Library.

2010-07-05T08:41:00.003-05:00

A problem to solve!

I have a diagnostic problem for you.

After I played volleyball for an hour and a half in 90 degree weather, even jumped my max 3 inches off the ground a couple of times. I knew I'd have to quit when the familiar pain of my right hip started. Muscles spasms that bring joint weakness. Soon the choice would be fall down or sit down.

I went to cool off. I polished off my bottle of water and started another. Had a few strawberries with watermelon. Then grabbed a hot dog....no bun, just the meat. Sitting down to rest and cool, I began to feel nauseous. We were getting ready to leave. Since I wasn't feeling so good, I didn't help load up the stuff, just sat there. Bad, bad pastor's wife. Sitting when there's work to be done!

Somebody said to me, "You look like you're ready to pass out."

"I feel like it, too."

So we leave. Immediately my tummy starts rumbling. Pain! And the nausea! I lean back in the seat, and before I know it, I'm only half conscious.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" asks hubby.

"No. Just get me home."

So I pray and groan the rest of the way home, still just barely conscious. As we're doing the circle off the tollway just a few blocks from the house, I'm wishing I'd opted for the hospital. I feel THAT bad. (I really don't like hospitals!)

I stumbled out of the car and staggered into the house. Hubby trying to help, but I'm almost delirious and shake him off. My anti-gravity chair. He guides me there. Instantly I know it won't work.

"No. The bed!"

So I collapse onto my bed. Relief. A cool, dark room.

Then the hallucination/dream starts: My hip tendon jerks the liver sideways which turns the stomach to a horizontal position. This kinks the esophagus so that passage is impossible and the entrance to my stomach is now on the side. A hot dog keeps pounding at the stomach trying to get in. It can't, so it runs circles around my stomach there in the cavity, but keeps pounding on the stomach. Finally, the hot dog finds the entryway into my stomach and slides through. My stomach contracts a few times and relaxes.

I fall asleep.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Hubby goes to take his afternoon nap. He says he was praying. I'm sure with the experience this senior pastor has, his snores are counted as travail!!

An hour later I wake up feeling so much better. The pain is gone, no more nausea, only a little dizziness. Later I manage to eat some chicken noodle soup, toast and tea. Still feeling weak, like a newborn kitten.

Hubby says it was divine healing. His prayers were answered.

Today I'm slightly headachey, weak in the knees, and prone to bits of dizziness and nausea.

So.....Question. Sunstroke?? Heatstroke?? Reaction to over-exertion? General insanity??? Food Poisoning? (The hot dog had been cooked more than the recommended two hours ago.) from which God healed me? (No actual output from that rumbling stomach--in either direction!!!) Other???

You be the DOC!!!! I'm waiting to hear from you!!!

2010-07-03T15:44:00.008-05:00

NOT-SO-MODERN DOOHICKEYS
Hillbilly ingenuity!!!!

In them thar hills wheres I grew up, we didn't have no keylimes!

So this here Hillbilly ain't got no fancy lime squeezers.

But them hills does sport a fair 'mount of nuts, like pecans, walnuts, and hickor' nuts. Thus, I al'ays have a nutcracker ta hand. Whatcha think 'bout a nutcracker and them keylimes? It done the job!!

People who live in the lime-growing climate have something similar to this!!

2010-07-02T20:05:00.007-05:00

Modern Doohickeys

Just as I have learned to turn my new phone off and on, to answer a phone call (usually) without cutting off the caller, I have a new car to figure out. My youngest borrowed my Ford Edge (three years old) to take on vacation. Meantime I'm driving his new Nissan Altima. My car does have remote start, and remote locks. That's pretty newfangled for me!! However, his has key-less driving. Key-less??? My Lord, what's this world coming to! What will be next, tire-less driving?? He gave me a crash course on how to use it. I listened...or thought I did.

So this morning I go to start the car. I have the little remote in my purse, so it's supposed to work. I push the start button. Nothing. I get the remote that I know has the chip and lay it on the seat. (Who knows maybe my purse has steel lining that blocks the zapper ray! It's heavy enough!) Push the button again. Still nothing.

Now understand, there is no key option. There IS a key option for the door should the battery on the remote fail. But the same remote has a chip that the starter reads and lets you start the car. Huh?? What if the starter doesn't feel like reading that day? I guess it didn't. I sit and think. Nothing occurs to me. I could call my son, presuming that I can get my phone to work. But that would admit defeat. I don't do defeat well. What's the rule? If it doesn't work at first, just keep pushing!!!

Try again. Push once. Nothing. Push twice. Nothing. Oh, wait!!! There's a light. It says "Brake". This car is not moving. Why do I need to brake? I hate electronic chips talking to me! But like an obedient humanoid, I obey the electronic order. I hold down the brake, push the button and . . . voila'! The car starts!! Whew!!!

To appreciate the depth of my ignorance, you have to know that in my childhood, a dial phone on a party line was a luxury we didn't have. It wasn't available in the country. My grandma had one in the city.

We had one TV channel, with a fuzzy picture on a snowy black and white set with rabbit ears on top. And I was thirteen years old before we, personally, had one. Previously we'd go to an Uncle's house to watch Saturday night TV.

In those days computers took up an entire room, a pretty big one at that, and were used only for military applications. Mostly for aiming armaments correctly. They had less power than is in that little zapper in my purse.

More to the point, I grew up with cars with WIRES. You could hot wire a car if the key was lost. You could have fun by reversing the position of the wire to the horn and the one to the brake light. That was especially fun if the professor in question was driving in the mountains followed by a busload of students howling every time he hit the brakes and the horn honked!

What we did NOT have was a little doohickey that sent out a little ray and zapped the starter to tell it to start at the push of a button. Nope THAT we did not have!!!

And that, folks, is a Modern Doohickey!!!!

2010-07-01T19:23:00.012-05:00

TODAY IS JULY 1
I'm shouting that! I thought late August was the earliest I had seen such things before. There are how many days before....??? One hundred seventy-six days 176!!! Unbelievable!!!

Here I'm trying to get revved up for the beginning of the school year and in a very forward thinking mode. But my thoughts do not go THIS far!!!!

For real! This was today in the store!
Well, it's less than 6 months! :)

Happy Fourth of July!!!!

Happy Independence Day!!!

2010-06-30T12:19:00.002-05:00

Little Things

“Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines” Song of Solomon 2:15

Sometimes it's the smallest thing that makes or breaks my day. I could have danced around my office when I saw this picture!!! I didn't, but I could have. I'm just sayin.... I'd thought of using binder clips, but with the wire under the clip part which creates some obvious stress points on the wires. Somebody thought outside the box...or in this case, outside the clip....and voila' my problem solved.

Life is like that sometimes. Only a little thing, a small problem in the grand scheme of things, but it's a spoiler. The Little Foxes. The little thought, the little jealousy, the little grudge, the little sin. Spoilers, one and all.

Life is like that sometimes. It requires thinking outside the box. A little discipline, a little forgiveness, a little tolerance, a little talk with Jesus. Voila' the problem is solved.

My Momma always said it was the little things that made a big difference! .

2010-06-27T19:53:00.007-05:00

Night Drive in Suburbia
Dark Night, Full Moon

2010-06-21T20:39:00.004-05:00

Grocery Store Mania

How does one play? Take four self-check stations, minus two broken. Add three checkouts with cashiers. Add seventy-five customers ready to check out.

First, I got in line for the self-check. I only had 5 items. Then I surveyed the prospects, two of them were broken. One of the two remained was clogged by a woman slowly checking out a huge basket of groceries. The other had a man accompanied by a veiled woman trying to scan items. Maybe I'd better try the cashier. I moved to the first (Express) checkout line. As I push my cart to the conveyor, a woman steps in front of my cart. I ignore her and start to unpack my cart, but get bumped from behind by a teen trying to push a cart past me.

I gave him a questioning look. "I'm with her," he says, pointing his chin in the direction of the woman who'd jumped in front of me.

She was small; he was small. I could take them both. Not worth it, I decided. I did a very Christian eye roll, gave them a very charitable disgusted look and made a noise, but I moved back to the self-check. Better to wait than to fight for a place in the line, figuratively or literally.

The man and the veiled woman have put several containers of ice cream in their bag and hit "Pay".

The attendant says, "Sir, only one of those items scanned."

And here I thought he was nearly finished.

The attendant takes the items out of the bag, looks at each one. She places the scanned one in the bag.

"These need to be scanned." She steps back.

He passes one carton in front of the scanner, but at a distance. He places it in his bag.

"Sir, that didn't scan," repeats the attendant.

He scans it. "Aren't these buy one, get one free?"

I'm thinking, "They're all free if you can get by without scanning them."

"Not that brand," says the lady. "The house brand is buy one, get one free."

He scans a box of sherbet. "This one should be buy one, get one free," he asserts.

"No sir", says the lady. "It's on sale for $3.99"

He scans the remaining two items and places them in his bag. The total comes up and he walks out of the store without purchasing anything. Without stealing anything either.

About 5 minutes ago the other scanner became free. The lady with the boatload of groceries finally finished. But I was too fascinated with the shoplifting scam in front of me to care that another person behind me took her place.

The attendant steps up to the machine, clears the information, and takes the abandoned product away.

My turn. Without incident, I scan my groceries: 1 package whole wheat spaghetti; one bottle mushroom marinara sauce, one bag salad, one container cherry tomatoes, one bunch bananas, one bag grapes.

Guess what we had for dinner.

2010-06-19T19:05:00.002-05:00

The Road Home
a modern retelling of Ruth's Ancient Story
by Tommy Tenney & Mark Andrew Olsen

I did it again!!! I read and entire book in a day. I'm amazed at the healing that has taken place. For anyone new to my blog, nearly a year of chemotherapy preceded by a year of two major surgeries and several lesser procedures had left me without the ability to focus long enough to read an entire book, much less in one day. So I'm thanking God for healing and restoration.

And this book is about healing and restoration. There are any number of quotable quotes in the book, reminiscent of the author's father and the Tenney ability to turn a phrase! The story chronicles a prodigal's return to her roots (Naomi), and a lost child who finally finds a home (Ruth) told by a superb storyteller. Told as a modern take on the story of Ruth and Naomi, it brings to light the possibilities of redemption in a modern world. Spanning geography from Las Vegas, Nevada to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania it also provides a vista on the variety and beauty of Americana in the autumn. With characters complex enough to care about, it is an unforgettable story about forgiveness and repentance, well worth the day's effort to finish!!!

2010-06-18T20:54:00.001-05:00

THESE LAST FEW POSTS HAVE BEEN FAR TOO SERIOUS!!!!

I'm fixin' to do something funny....soon.

It must have been end of the year stress!!! Time for summertime lightness.

Soon...soon as I get some energy!!!

2010-05-31T12:52:00.006-05:00

MEMORIAL DAY
Elgin, IL
May 31, 2010
Bluff City Cemetery

2010-05-24T18:33:00.003-05:00

Grilled Salmon, Island Rice and Roasted Corn
Food for a warm pre-summer evening

Hubby dreamed up this menu for this evening and cooked most of it. I just "Island-uped" the rice!!! Somewhere we ate "Island rice" in a restaurant and decided we could duplicate it at home. Voila'! Dinner!

Island Rice
1 - 14 oz can chicken broth (no msg)
1 - 11 oz can mandarin orange segments
1 - 8 oz can pineapple chunks
3 tbsp olive oil

Drain liquid from orange segments and pineapple chunks.
Mix with chicken broth in a 2 quart pan
Add 1-1/2 cup dry rice

Cover pan. Bring to boil. Then reduce heat and simmer until rice is dry. Stir in orange segments and pineapple chunks. Return to heat and drizzle oil over top of rice. Cover and cook 5-6 minutes, until rice is soft and fruit is hot.

2010-05-24T17:30:00.003-05:00

Pre-Summer Days

Ten things I like about pre-summer:

1. Awakening to bright sunshine
2. Enjoying colorful flowers
3. Inhaling the coconut smell of sunscreen
4. Knowing the pool will open soon
5. Leaving the house without a jacket and boots
6. Sizzling my sinuses while the car cools down
7. Pretending I'm a fish as I breath pure steam outdoors (100% humidity!)
8 Pretending I'm in a sauna when I step outdoors and breath pure water
9. The feel of a cool damp cloth on sunburned skin
10. Applying anti-wrinkle cream to the newly acquired creases around my eyes

2010-05-17T21:13:00.009-05:00

REMEMBERING THE GOODNESS OF GOD

Reviewing my posts from chemotherapy days, I found this scripture posted. It was one of the scriptures that sustained my hope and courage during those dark days when illness reigned supreme and fatigue loomed eternal.

THE MEN IN MY LIFE: The Huerta Hombres!!

Psalm 61

(The Bible in Basic English)

1 Let my cry come to you, O God; let your ears be open to my prayer. 2 From the end of the earth will I send up my cry to you, when my heart is overcome: take me to the rock which is over-high for me. 3 For you have been my secret place, and my high tower from those who made war on me. 4 I will make your tent my resting-place for ever: I will keep myself under the cover of your wings.

My family lightened my days with humor! They joined me in crazy headdresses.

When I looked like a cartoon dog with big loopy ears. The hat was to cover my bald pate. The "Ears" belonged to the ice pack tucked up under the hat to cool me down during those episodes of intense hot flashes due to the allergic reactions.Never mind that it was 10 below zero outside and about 65 in the house.

My hands and feet were also swollen and red. I couldn't open presents by myself so Bob helped me.

Brad's laughter bubbled out looking at the card I gave them -- and forgot to write anything!!! Not even my name or his!

2010-05-16T18:02:00.003-05:00

Same Kind of Different As Me

by Ron Hall & Denver Moore

It must be my month for book reviews. This one is a "must read" for anyone who attempts ministry in a multicultural setting. It's written from the alternating point of view of two men. One of them is an white upper middle class Art Dealer whose customers are the movers and shakers of this world. The other is a black, homeless man who says that living in alleys and under bridges in Houston was a step up in life for him. They become friends due to the insistence of Ron's wife and by overcoming the objections that Denver has about relationships and people in general.

The resultant story is gripping, not sweet and syrupy, but real and hard-hitting. While Ron shows Denver what life is like in Middle Class America, Ron learns about that world, his point of view and his God from Denver. He is able to see the world through different eyes.

“God gives each person on the earth a set of keys, keys to live this life down here on the earth. Now in this set, there is one key you can use to unlock prison doors and set captives free.”

Denver turned his head just slightly so that the right side of his face was closer to me than the left. He leaned in with his right shoulder and narrowed his eyes even farther. “Mr. Ron, I was captive in the devil’s prison. That was easy for Miss Debbie to see. But I got to tell you: Many folks had seen me behind the bars in that prison for more than thirty years, and they just walked on by. Kept their keys in their pocket and left me locked up. Now I ain’t tryin to run them other folks down, ’cause I was not a nice fella – dangerous – and prob’ly just as happy to stay in prison. But Miss Debbie was different – she seen me behind them bars and reached way down in her pocket and pulled out the keys God gave her and used one to unlock the prison door and set me free."
I highly recommend the book. In fact, I'm just starting the sequel (recently published) What difference do it make? by Ron Hall, Denver Moore, and Lynn Vincent.
I'm headed to the easy chair now....just wish my tummy would quit rumbling. Doesn't it know, it isn't time to eat just yet?

2010-05-08T21:16:00.005-05:00

My Bangs Look Good
and other Lies I tell Myself

Confessions of a Tired Supergirl
by Susanna Foth Aughtmon

I laughed and cried my way through this entire book today...and that was while attending my granddaughters' soccer games (in 40 degree weather, I might add), making preparations for Mother's Day at church tomorrow and interview candidates for nursery teacher. I haven't been that engrossed in a book in a long time.

I don't think I can explain the premise except from the back of the book: "Discover the real truth about yourself--and God". It's all about the lies we tell ourselves about God. Things like "God is disappointed in me" (He isn't...or at least not for those reasons), "God can't Change me" (He will; it's me who's resistant to change" or "I need to protect myself from getting hurt" and many more.

This is one of those books that has to soak in. In fact, I'm going back through it and doing the study questions in the back of the book. Since this is the book ladies are receiving for Mother's Day tomorrow, maybe we'll do a group study. We'll see. But I have to get some of this just a little deeper in my heart!

Do rush out and get the book. (I'm not paid to say this!!! I won't even get a free copy of the book -- the church purchased the one I borrowed today -- just 24 hours before it will be given to me!!! (Click here for the website)

God loves you!!! You don't have to be good so that He will love you!!! And You ARE NOT stuck in your present circumstances!!

Believe it!!!

2010-04-28T21:42:00.002-05:00

Crazy Days of May
Remember to Pray for Teachers!!!

Teaching is not what it used to be. When I began teaching, I did my job, attended a few meetings, carried home piles of papers to grade every night and found immense satisfaction when a lesson went as well or better than I had imagined when I planned it.

Now? Well, there's still the immense satisfaction. That hasn't changed. But nearly everything else has changed. Our job is defined by a triangle....The base of the triangle represents 80% of the students. For those 80% .... no wait....for everyone in the classroom, we are to teach all concepts, scaffolding to accommodate individual differences and various levels of ability and past knowledge. We are to provide things like, alternate versions of tests, possibly reading the exam if necessary. Or give only half the homework. Or require a one-paragraph essay rather than a three-paragraph or five-paragraph essay. We might pair the student with a peer who is able to assist. Or the teacher might provide individual instruction to particular students. Some students must be provided with copies of notes if required. Constant assessment must take place in order to determine which students receive which accommodations or modifications. (In middle school, one teacher typically has 100-150 students. This year, it will be 150 at least, maybe more) So for a new batch of 30+ students every hour we must have these sorts of lessons and interventions ready. . . And, for me, I have to remember which of these kids need how much modification or accommodation!!! For someone who struggles to learn all 150 names by Thanksgiving, that is no small task!

With those modification, accommodations and scaffolding of lessons 80% of the students are expected to succeed. Then comes methods of dealing with the 20% who are not progressing at the expected pace.

For those there is additional assessment. One version of which takes place weekly, in class, while all those other modifications and accommodations are occurring. Teachers must do a one-on-one assessment -- it only takes one minute, we are told. Then another very small amount of time to put the scores into a computer which will then spew out scores which will indicate what additional interventions these students will need. Remember this is ONLY 20% of our students -- so with a class of 30, 6 students potentially will require additional interventions to address deficits discovered by the assessment. These may be done by the teacher sometime OUTSIDE of the classroom -- say before school, after school, during our lunch period, or .... or Saturday morning.

Right now we are reviewing these interventions and are required to give input as to the ones we think will work best. Then the powers that be will determine which of these sets of curriculum they will purchase, train us and voila' we're set to take care of that 20%.

Oh, except....it is expected that these interventions will not work for 3-5% of students. . .for whom there will be....you guessed it....more interventions. And don't forget, there are still those students who comprise the 80% for whom we are still planning daily lessons with modifications and accommodations. And grading papers....and, oh, yes. We must also motivate them to do their homework, perform well in class, and become excited about education.

Because....the other side of that learning triangle comprises a behavioral triangle. Again, 80% of the students do well with the usual procedures and instructions; there's the 15% who needs additional programs and procedures to behave in class; and the 5% for whom individual behavior plans must be devised and followed. Some song, different verse.

So while we are modifying and accommodating content for one set of student, there are the other 6 kids or so who can be expected to push behavior limits beyond acceptable while we are busy with the learning difficulties of the other 6 . . . and the 80% will of course on task as the teacher is busy with such tasks.

These are 13-14 year olds!!! Hello!!! Push behavior limits is what they do every waking moment just for entertainment!!!

So...with the classroom requiring 150% energy and concentration every moment students are there....we have committees and training and more committees and more training to deal with these "new" methods.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the newspapers are publishing front page articles about how teachers are overpaid, have life easy and need to take pay cuts. Sigh!!

Sigh!! It's just too much to contemplate.

One thing I do know. I'm in teaching because I do love it...I'm good at it. So this next year, I will attend . . . how many meetings??? Well, this year I'm on two district-level committees (2 meetings per month), co-chair of one school-level committee (1-2 meetings per month;5-6 days of training this year), member of another school-level committee (1 meeting per month), on this new intervention committee (1 meeting per month, 4 trainings this year) and on one committee with the ETA (one day and one meeting this year). And...that's about average for the profession.

I'm amazed that young people even want to join the profession! But they do.

Because??? Teaching isn't a job, it's a calling. It does seem like the powers that be could provide a bit more support instead of making it more difficult.

But there is one Power that I know I can depend on. So, this year when you hear someone begin to harangue teachers or the educational system, say a prayer. Pray for teachers; pray for administrators; pray for public officials. The educational system needs help and at this point, I think the only help available is DIVINE!!!

2010-04-21T19:33:00.005-05:00

Rally Day

Springfield, Illinois

So today I dabbled my toes in the sea of American politics. I weighed the issues and decided it was important enough for me to at least get acquainted with the process. Accompanied by 150 teachers from our district and thousands of others statewide, we marched, listened to speeches and talked to legislators. Oh, we also ate hot dogs. What's a political rally without hot dogs?

For those whose media outlets were blasting teachers and screaming about teachers wanting higher taxes, please read on.

For the first time in my life, I was here in a legislator's office with a group of colleagues and was able to explain my concerns about education. He listened politely.

It is true that 20,000 teachers statewide have been RIFed (Notified that will not be employed due to Reduction In Force). Would we like to see these young promising educators keep their jobs? Certainly! AND...we'd like to see them remain in Illinois as a resource to the children of our state rather than migrate to the surrounding states where the prospects are less bleak.

But the bottom line is.... without an educated electorate, democracy is doomed to failure. I am teaching because I believe in the value of education, and I believe in democracy. Students should leave our schools able to read, write and do arithmetic. They also need critical thinking skills in order to listen to candidates and decide for whom to vote. They need the skills to understand the system and run for office themselves someday. They need the confidence to talk to legislators and government officials, to express themselves clearly and with purpose.
We neglect the education of our nation's children at our peril. This state must do something to fund education and to fund it more equitably for all children. It means responsible spending and a responsible budget. The message was: SOS (Save Our Schools!)

And we had a great time with friends...and making new friends. The day gave us lots of time to share ideas and have fun!Five of the six representatives from Ellis. The other was meeting with a Representative at the time.

Oh here she is...on the bus!!! Great day!

2010-04-08T17:48:00.006-05:00

EASTER, 2010
(Those few pictures I remembered to take and for which I could locate the camera!)

Three 6-foot tables seated the 20 guests. Meal was buffet style.

2010-04-02T19:59:00.004-05:00

Such an interesting day. It was beautiful, sunny, warm. A marvel here in Northern Illinois at the beginning of April. I was setting up for a dinner on Sunday for extended family, with eighteen guests. :-)

I was looking for centerpieces for three table of six. and completion pieces for my place settings...I did the discount housewares round, the craft stores, the department stores and then for the glass pieces for some floating candles, the community thrift store. This drifting in and out of varied cultures reminded me of some reading I've been doing on Native Americans.

I plan to start next year with a unit on Native American stories and poetry, even cave painting to coordinate with the American History class they're taking. Native American culture always fascinated me. My great-great grandmother was from the Cherokee tribe. So I am Indian. But I don't have the culture, at all.

Tribes lived as one family, happy or not. They shared food and the necessities of life. An Indian wouldn't dream of eating when his neighbor had none. When a child was given a toy, say a doll, the child played with the toy until they tired of it. Then she passed it on to another child who kept it as long as she was interested. So a doll might be in the hands of 2 or 3 little girls in the course of a year. Amazing.

At at each place, I looked around me at the abundant "things" we enjoy and thought of the immense selfishness which pervades us-- I mean, me! And I'm still thinking. I really need to get rid of some "things", including attitudes and entitlements. I don't know what I'm doing yet. I just know that God is nudging me.

God, thank you for that little voice that speaks to me. Thank you for nudging me to examine values and attitudes even in the midst of shopping!! Let me have "ears to hear!" Amen!!

2010-03-25T13:33:00.003-05:00

SPRING BREAK

I spent a marvelous two days with my granddaughters, cooking, exploring the Museum of Science and Industry, and playing a newly invented game of Hide and Go Seek, which included a version of tag, and sword fighting. Don't ask. These princesses love swords!

Now it's time to prepare for a series of lessons that I have committed to deliver. I've been feeling sadly out of touch. Out of touch with myself mostly, wondering whether God can really bring change in me, wondering if I'm living on the same planet as the people that I rub shoulders with. Wondering what on earth I can say that will make a difference in the lives of those listeners to whom I am charged to deliver an encouraging word.

All the while, in the back of my mind, a little voice is asking whether I can make it for the next few years in the classroom again. Will I be able to motivate and inspire the way I really want? Will I be able to reconcile those ideas floating around in my mind with the cold, harsh "learning standards" on the written page? Will I be able to make my classroom a creative oasis, even for those reluctant or rebellious learners that walk our halls? Can I live out in the classroom, the ideals that I've be able to communicate in the Interventionist's office? And...can I do all these things while keeping up with those huge monsters, "Grading Papers" and "Recording Grades?"

Will my episodes of "Chemobrain" impede my attempts at the massive organizational process it requires to simply run a classroom? Those days when I cannot sustain a thought long enough to accomplish a complicated task, will I be able to "fake it" well enough to "Make it"?

And then I just read the most marvelous blog: Enjoying the Small Things.

Let me rephrase that: I just cried my way through the most marvelous blog. Then fast forwarded through her blog to the present: Enjoying the Small Things to look at more pictures and thoughts. And I realized just how God takes our battles, struggles and trials and allows us to speak to others, even though their circumstances may be vastly different. Kellie's story spoke to me though I'm old enough to be her mother. It spoke to me even though my childbearing years (her circumstances) are far behind me. It spoke to me even though my past experiences of childbirth were far different from hers. And may I say, I LOVE the community, the sharing, the family and friends who were there. In my generation childbirth was a lonely, lonely experience. Beautiful, but lonely.

Still....her experience spoke to me. In the way that our dreams may be fulfilled in ways we never imagined. In that gifts we receive from God may not be what we were looking for. In her amazing attitude of thankfulness and acceptance of the gift she received. Her obvious love of that precious little girl spoke in the pictures, the tone of her writing, the interactions that can be seen on camera.

So, I understand that even if the audience has a widely varied experience, our humanness speaks in the way that we handle life's circumstance. Faith and love speak across generations, across culture, across background experience. God speaks through us.

Thank you, Lord for finding us. In moments of turmoil, in moments of doubt, in moments of fear. Thank you for turning that to Peace, Faith, and Love.

2010-03-11T21:01:00.005-06:00

SPRING LIGHT

Is there anything more miraculous than the way golden light changes thing? The light was perfect this afternoon, giving a golden glow to all of nature. God's light gilding man's creations to works of perfection!

2010-02-14T18:48:00.005-06:00

The offending machine. It's a cross between a punch press and a vice grip, cloaked in innocent-looking clear plastic with enough pressure to set off a Seismic event of cataclysmic proportions.

~~~~~~~~~

It's still a man's world

I got rippin' mad Friday leaving our local hospital. It was not the hospital--it's a beautiful brand new facility. Personnel were friendly, helpful and knowledgeable. No complaint.

But as I'm standing in a little room in the Women's Health section with tears running down my face because a certain body appendage is being squeezed beyond belief, I have the thought: "If men had to have an appendage smashed to the screaming point, I'll bet somebody would find a better way to do this." In fact, my thoughts continued, there is a better way. An MRI is said to give a much more effective view of the mammary tissue. But, "Oh no" I say to myself in a squeaky little voice, which is all I can manage at the time due to the pressure I'm enduring standing stripped to the waist while an Amazon-sized female is applying enough pressure to cause Mt. Helen to erupt again! "Oh, no. An MRI is TOO expensive." Yeah. Too expensive. A woman's comfort isn't worth that much money. BUT...I yell back (still squeaking) if it were a MAN, I bet the insurance would FIND the money!!! (Still yelling to myself) And it isn't a matter of comfort, this is pain and suffering!!

In fact, when I first went into the torture chamber, the ever so friendly Amazon-like attendant said, "We have new digital equipment." My first thought was -- oh wow!! Somebody thought of a less painful way to get these pictures. "But it doesn't require less pressure. It just gives a better image."

"Great" I answer in my head. "Better pictures," in my best Betty Boop voice.

She was right about no less pressure. But then I was complaining to my family at lunch today and my DIL asked if I'd ever had an MRI for a mammogram. No. But I've other MRI's...liver, for instance. "You have to lie on your stomach in a superman pose for, like, forty minutes," she informed me. "I'd take the other kind any day." There went the MRI idea.

So, I left the hospital aching from head to toe. What is it about sympathetic pain anyway? I'll never again question the scripture: "If one part suffers, every part suffers with it" I Corinthians 12:26.

And I still say, if it were men who had to endure that much pain on a yearly basis, somebody would have found a less painful exam!!

2010-02-10T09:24:00.002-06:00

Earthquake

Yep. Not only do we have a fresh foot of snow on the ground, but at 4:00 a.m. an earthquake hit. The epicenter was about 40 minutes west of us, but it was felt strongly where we are.

Me? I woke up, wide awake. But at my age, that's not unusual. I did what most people do at my age when they wake up. I went to the bathroom, completely ignorant of what really awakened me. Just the usual middle-of-the-night urge. Even though it wasn't.

Isn't there a book like that for kids? Some kid is in his house bored, nothing to do. Ho-hum. Outside the window thieves are stealing things, people are dancing in the streets, a volcano is erupting, all kinds of exciting happenings.

That's me. Earthquake? Ho-Hum. Just a bathroom break!!! And that's life, well past 50. :)

2010-02-09T20:06:00.002-06:00

It's snowing yet again!

Where is Global warming when you need it?? I'm actually getting sick of snow. I frequently get sick of the cold, but usually I find the snow very beautiful. I'm so sick of it, I'm having difficulty finding the beauty in all of the cold white stuff!

Should have a fresh foot and a half on the ground tomorrow.

2010-01-28T17:58:00.003-06:00

What a morning! Before he left for work this morning, my wonderful husband went to my car and turned the heater on full blast so that I could use the remote starter an hour later when I had to leave for work.

When he came back into the house, he informed me that he had graciously thrown away my half-full bottle of San Pellegrino (Mineral water) I'd left in the car because it was frozen.

"But that was my cold drink for today," I protested.

"It's frozen. It will burst," he explained patiently.

"It's not full. It will thaw when I take it into the meeting."

"It will burst," he persisted. But bravely went dumpster-diving to retrieve my precious frozen bottle. (Yeah. He's a keeper.)

I race to the kitchen, put on a skillet with a bit of oil to fry an egg. I'm making my own breakfast burrito this morning since Mickey D's is the opposite direction from my meeting. Skillet heating, I head to the computer to print a report necessary for the meeting.

He comes back, "The kitchen is full of smoke."

Oh! I race back to the kitchen. He had pulled the skillet off the burner. I toss it in the sink. I grab a different skillet to try again. Pour a bit of oil, dash back to the computer.

"Your skillet is on high," he returns.

Dash back to the stove. Turn the burner down, add an egg. Back to the computer. More reports. I remote start the car.

Hubby exits for work.

Still more reports. Run back to the kitchen. The skillet is off the burner, the egg still raw on top. I flip the egg, put the skillet back on the burner, muttering only slightly, wondering who has removed the skillet. Did he have time to do that before he left?

Teresa comes in, "I loosened the egg for you. I didn't want it to overcook."

"Thanks," I respond, completely insincerely, vaguely hoping my voice doesn't betray my emotion. "It needs to be cooked solid to go on a tortilla." I put the skillet back on the burner. Again. She hovers.

Back to the computer for one more report. Pack the computer bag. Is there a worn spot in the carpet from all this back-and-forth? Probably.

In the kitchen, the egg is done. I remove the skillet and grab a tortilla and slap it on the burner. This time, I don't leave because tortillas cook in about 15 seconds on a hot burner. The tortilla isn't cooking.

"Cook, tortilla!"

Look up...the burner is off. "Oh, no. The burner is off."

Teresa responds, "I turned it off when I removed the egg."

"It needed to finish, and I have to cook the tortilla." I'm hoping that my voice is non-committal. I'm balancing on first one foot then the other, wishing I could hurry up the tortilla. Did I mention that I'm ADHD???

She hovers in the background while I finish. I roll the egg in the tortilla, wrap it in a paper towel, and head back to my office.

Five minutes to cook a tortilla. Grrrr. I grab my coat, frozen mineral water, towel wrapped burrito, bag full of reports and head out to my toasty warm car.

When is help too much?? Or, do I need a keeper????

And...no, my egg didn't look nearly this good. Poor thing!

2010-01-22T11:14:00.004-06:00

Here are pictures of the house where we stayed. Looks like one section fared better than the others. That bottom picture is the clinic, (partly standing) and three floors of guest rooms and facilities above! All flat! The older cobblestone part withstood the quake better.

Lack of Infrastructure

So many scenes from the Haiti earthquake and the struggle to bring humanitarian aid to the hurting people bring back memories of my visits there. It is incomprehensible to the average American mind what lack of infrastructure means.

Lack of Infrastructure:
· No garbage pickup
· No mail delivery
· Sporadic electrical service
· More sporadic phone service
· Product shortages – milk, eggs
· Scarcity of clean water
· Understaffed Police Department
· Nearly non-existent Fire Department (I never once saw a fire truck or a fireman. Don’t know if they even had any)
· Lack of Hospitals – lack of supplies & staff in the hospitals
· Few clinics - understaffed and poorly supplied
· Weekly or Monthly clinics with lines of people
· No evidence of organization anywhere
· Roads are nearly impassable; no road signs; no street signs
· Shanties constructed randomly on mountainside
· Shanty Town near port worst I’ve seen anywhere

It was 2005. We stayed in a guest house of which the bottom floor was an orthopedic clinic. One evening we helped sort orthopedic limbs into bins: left leg, right foot, left arm, etc. Creative therapists would take these generic castoffs from American sources and customize them in large pizza ovens (also American castoffs) to soften the plastic or metal parts. Clinic was held once weekly. The line lasted all day with patients seated all over the lawn, patiently waiting for a limb to be examined, fitted or scheduled for fitting. Open sores were cleansed and bandaged. There were no antibiotics, no pain-killers, just the basic first-aid: alcohol, a dab of cream of some sort and a gauze bandage. Limbs were measured. The worker would search through a bin for an appropriate appendage, measure the work to be done, mark the orthopedic limb for pizza oven adjustment with advice to come back next week or next month. And that was an orthopedic clinic.

In Haiti, “Clinic” is an event, not a place. “Clinic” is held when there are doctors, nurses or therapists available. Groups of visiting medical professionals visit a small building and hold “clinic.” People lined up for blocks to have someone look at a goiter, a wound, a growth, a fever, a rash, etc.

In Chicago we joke about roads and potholes. In Haiti, it isn’t a joke. Two or three kilometers outside Port Au Prince the main road deteriorates to a few small patches of asphalt every hundred yards or so. The majority of the road is one pothole after another, some large enough to lose a car, all of them large enough to cause serious damage to the careless driver. I’m talking holes a yard wide and a foot or two deep. No exaggeration. There is no driving the roads at night. At all! Average speed on the road is about 15 miles an hour because now and then on a good stretch, it’s just a simple bumpy dirt road. Remember: This is PRE-earthquake. The road from the airport in Port Au Prince was asphalt with Chicago side-street-sized potholes: The kind of potholes that reporters like to show on the evening news to show that the “City-that-works” isn’t working. This was the BEST road in Port Au Prince, PRE-earthquake.

At the airport, I was startled at the lack of amenities. It reminded me of old movies of African airports in the 1940’s, although there WAS a conveyor-belt to bring out the luggage from behind plastic curtains that separated the passenger part of the airport from the working baggage handlers. I was relieved to see our host at the baggage carousel to greet us because I could tell we’d have been in trouble on our own. Unfortunately, I speak no Creole and about three words of French. Spanish doesn’t cut it in Port Au Prince. We waited for a couple of hours before it became evident that our bags hadn’t made the plane in Miami.

Our host never did find anyone official to confirm that; he did find a baggage handler willing to tell him that all the baggage from that particular plane had been offloaded and was on the carousel. Our baggage might make a later plane. Our host left us at the guest house with the promise of a phone call later that day. The phone call never came.

Twenty-four hours later, I began the attempt to make phone calls: to the host, to the airport, to the airlines. All to no avail. I received some sort of signal indicating no lines available. About then our host drove up in a pickup truck. He had also been unable to contact anyone, but recommended that we just go look. Happily we climbed aboard to go retrieve our bags.

At the airport, no one would let us in through the front door. Passengers only, they said. So our host led us around to the side of the airport. He banged loudly on a couple of solid metal doors before finding one ajar. Tentatively, we entered the terminal. Folks, this is the BACK of the airport. We just broke in; well, it was already broken, but we entered. There were a few employees about, but no one gave us a second glance. One Haitian man, one American man and four American women in the working part of the terminal and no one batted an eyelash. Live and let live seemed to be the policy. Our host found someone willing to talk and asked about unclaimed baggage. The man gestured in the direction of the largest pile of luggage I have ever seen in my life. I instantly regretted not bringing my camera. But how was I to know that it would be a Kodak moment?

Stunned, we eyed this enormous pile of luggage, roughly 30 feet in diameter and 10 feet tall. We’re supposed to search through this pile on the off chance that our baggage is there, I thought. We tentatively looked at the tags on bags around the edge. Then one of my cohorts spotted a red bag that was ours. The two men pulled it free from the pile. Yep. It was ours. Our host and the lone male in our group began looking through the pile. This was going to take forever. Our time on the employee side of the plastic curtain wasn’t going to end quickly or easily.

I directed the three women to a clear spot to one side with instructions to watch our bags. I have no idea why. They’d been sitting there unguarded for who knew how long, and we were hoping they were all there. What could happen in a few more minutes? But according to our culture, I distributed the jobs, one of which was “guarding” the baggage. Then I turned my attention to the pile. I climbed nearly to the top of this unsteady blog of “stuff” to retrieve yet another of our bags. Finally, someone had the idea to just organize them as we went. So we began our work as baggage handlers, setting suitcases in straight lines for future retrieval by their owners as we sorted our way through the pile. Two hours after breaking and entering the airport, we headed out with our luggage. Every piece of it.

I listen to the news and I remember. I remember what lack of infrastructure meant to us in terms of efficiency and effectiveness. Delay is something that Haitians are accustomed to. When the devastation of the earthquake, the additional unavailability of medical attention, and the urgency of receiving medical treatment for wounds are added, my heart aches for the patient Haitians. They who are accustomed to so little, who are happy with small things, need help in a big time way, and no one can find a way around this infrastructure problem.

Who is capable of making deliveries to the neighborhoods? Who is organized enough to care for the elderly in nursing homes, for the newly-made orphans, for the wounded waiting for care? Who is available to hold classes for the children, to occupy young minds while the world around them is crumbling? My brain goes to the resources I know are there.

Haiti has no government left to fill the void; the United Nations has no organization left to pick up the slack. What are left are the churches. I know, there’s the whole problem of church and state. But what’s wrong with employing the churches to deliver aid to their neighborhoods during a time of crisis. It was Ghandi who said, “There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” Isn’t that Haiti, now? What better thing than to have a troop of local people entrusted with feeding their neighbors?

No infrastructure. None to speak of. But the churches are there. They are organized; they know where the hurting people are. Will somebody please empower these pastors to feed the hungry; to clothe the naked; to find medical help for the wounded? Please??

2010-01-13T14:01:00.006-06:00

Fire on Elma Street

At first I stood there transfixed. The sight of a shell of a house with orange yellow flames leaping from what only a few minutes before had been windows or doors, tall pillars of flames where the roof line should have been, the scent of smoke all conspired to transport me to 1961. Not since then have I witnessed in person a house completely consumed in flames. The scene around me brought me back to reality and 2010. In 1961 there had been no neighbors gathered round, no firemen with silver reflective stripes on their backs, no firehoses soaking surrounding trees and houses, no fire engines or ambulances. There had been only our little family of four to fend for ourselves, to escape from the awful heat and orange flames.

And, oh, yeah. I even had a camera tonight. I've wished any number of times I'd had a camera that other night. My love of the visual extends even to recording my own story of tragedy.
So I snapped a few shots. Prayed for the people. Questioned a few people to assure myself that the occupants were safe.

And I walked the block home, thankful that it had only been one house, that everyone will survive. Sad that not one single thing is retrievable from the rubble.

I prayed for them because I knew that this evening would forever be a defining moment for that family, for those involved.

I knew that someday each might encounter a situation and remember 2010.

Full story of Elma Street explosion. Click here.

2010-01-02T13:46:00.003-06:00

*Adventure With Grandma*

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous, cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs.Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.

I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, I" replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) and wrote on the package, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

===============================

He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.

This little story has been around for a few years. I checked around and couldn't find an author to whom to give credit. If you have a source, please advise. (It could be one of the stories in Canfield's "Chicken Soup for the Grandma's Soul". I don't have the book and checked for this title. He has an entire section of "Adventures with Grandma".) It's a possibility.

2009-12-15T10:54:00.004-06:00

The Christmas Pledge

Believing in the beauty and simplicity of Christmas, I commit myself to the following:

1. To remember those people who truly need my gifts.

2. To express my love for family and friends in more direct ways than presents.

3. To rededicate myself to the spiritual growth of my family.

4. To examine my holiday activities in light of the true spirit of Christmas.

5. To initiate one act of peacemaking within my circle of family and friends.

-from Unplug the Christmas Machine , by Jo Robinson and Jean Coppock Staeheli

2009-12-09T11:11:00.002-06:00

Side Effects of the Season

Sadness seems to have more depth at this time of year, kind of like the layers of snow that keep coming and piling up before the previous layer can be taken care of. Some situations feel even worse in the sparkling glow of colored lights and the tinkling sound of silver bells.

I run across situations daily. There’s the teenage boy living with 3 siblings and a dad in a one bedroom walkup with one bath. He doesn’t complain. Last year’s teachers remember bits and pieces of his situation. I confirm them. There won’t be Christmas this year. There’s no money.

Or the teenage girl whose older sister just ran away with her boyfriend. The boyfriend doesn’t want to get married; the girl’s parents are adamant that they must be married immediately to protect the family name. The teenager at home cries herself to sleep at night, then comes to school barely able to function. At the nurse’s office, she has no temperature, but insists she’s weak and can barely walk. I invite her to my office to talk. We uncover the nature of her illness: She’s heartsick.

There’s the group of girls who fight with one another constantly including in-your-face stuff online and in text messages. Resolving the conflict uncovers a history of abuse in all but one of the girls. We report it only to find that DCFS considers it yesterday’s news. Not confirmable.

One youngster has an office referral; we sit down to discuss the situation. I discover that Dad is in prison, mom has deserted him and his sister. He’s living with a relative. I note that his shirt is soiled – the kind of dirt that comes from repeated wearing without washing. Apparently no one is caring much for him.

Countless students worry about having to move from their housing due to rent not being paid. Some move, usually without notice. They are just gone. Vanished into the night to escape the bills. We might criticize the parents for lack of character in such cases, but what of the children? What of the little boy living out of the car? What of the little girl denied the privilege of saying goodbye to her BFF? Will she make another friend or just shut down in the face of emotional devastation?

What can one person do in the face of such desperation in the children? Not a lot. Oh, we have a giving tree at school; teachers even organized a garage sale to raise money for this season. And my family is scaling our Christmas down this year in order to give away the money we would normally spend. But it seems so small and the needs so great.

In the glimmer of sparkling lights, with a background of Christmas melodies these stories take on new life, with poignancy unfelt in other seasons.

As you grab for the Kleenex, take another look at your resources. This is a great opportunity. Contact a social worker at a school in a poor area of your town and make a donation. Give some time at the homeless shelter that you didn’t want in your neighborhood. Slip a $20 or a $50 in the Salvation Army bucket. Talk to the elderly at your church or synagogue. Do they have a place to go for Christmas dinner? Smile at the harried mom with several preschool children in tow. He came for such as these!

And. . . say a prayer for those in need. Say a prayer for yourself and your circle of friends that God will reveal Himself in ways you would not dream of. That’s another wonderful side effect of the season. It’s a season for miracles!

2009-12-08T12:58:00.002-06:00

Things are not always what they seem. . .

One of the important things that God is teaching me is not to jump to conclusions. You’d think at my age I would have learned this already. Alas! I have not. Specifically, some of the things that anger me are not what I presume they are. Imagine that!

Take for instance this morning. I’m driving to work on a snowy morning. I head uphill the last half block to work when suddenly a car backs out into the road in front of me. Now, I have time to stop. But I am partially up a fairly steep snow covered hill. I’m muttering to myself about ignorant people who don’t think about weather conditions before pulling out….. yada, yada, yada.

I did get traction again, fortunately, and follow the new Chrysler up the hill. To my surprise, he turns left into the school parking lot. I’m thinking, “Is one of our teachers really stupid enough to do that? Which of my friends doesn’t have sense enough to deserve to be behind the wheel?”

So as I park my car I keep an eye on this miscreant who doesn’t park, but makes a U-turn in the lot and just sits there. Then I spot a tall teenaged boy coming down the stairs from the subsidized housing next door with a young teenage girl on his back – piggyback style. I’m interested.

The boy walks over to the car and very gently sets the girl down. She is favoring one foot and holding her hand to her stomach as though she is either sick or injured. And I have an aha moment.

The driver of the car is either a friend or a relative of the kids and has answered a call for help to take the girl to the doctor/hospital. And I have a sudden change of attitude. Nice person, to come out at 7:30 a.m. on a snowy morning to give someone a ride for medical treatment.

And I start to wonder. What would it be like to have to call for help for your injured/ill sister. (I’m presuming here – but reasonably probable stuff). To have to depend on a friend/relative for transportation. Where’s the parent of the teenagers? Why isn’t the girl accompanied by someone from her own home? What would it be like to call a friend or relative hoping they’d take you to the hospital?

Yep. My attitude changed. I realized that the car that cut in front of me had passed by the entrance to the parking lot and was turning around to go back when he stopped me dead in my tracks. But he was on an errand of mercy. Early morning, snowy and cold. He had the heart to come help a friend even if he didn’t have the good sense to drive appropriately in the snow. Maybe I had the good sense, but he had the heart.

Turn off the anger. Turn on the compassion! Things are not always what they seem.

2009-11-23T15:58:00.002-06:00

From my point of view, one of the difficulties of modern education is the lack of a coherent, unifying goal for education. In my classrooms I have always told students that the purpose of American Education is to provide an educated electorate. In order for a democracy, or a democratic republic to survive, the people must be educated in order to evaluate what the candidates are saying, what they mean by what they say, and what is deliberately left unsaid, but may be learned. Things like past voting record, statements about beliefs and values can be discovered more easily than ever today through the internet. However, what is not happening is that students are not being provided with the skills, ability, and experience to think. Only an educated, thinking person has the least chance of deciphering the rhetoric of polished political candidates. It is a view that I vehemently advocate.

Historically, schools were formed with that goal in mind. One needs only to take a look at the urgency and intensity of schools in the South immediately following the American Civil War. The recently freed slaves understood the concept of education and its importance in participating fully in government. Those who had somehow received an education were able to hold public office and attempted to persuade others to vote for them. It was a laborious process, but one that was well understood by the African-American population at the time. The importance of education in this electoral process was also understood by Southern racists. Schools, teachers, and preachers who worked to educate the newly-freed slaves were the target of KKK raids and other destructive racist groups with a design to shut down schools, churches and to silence anyone who participated in the educational process.

If one goes back to the earliest American schools, most schools were religiously based. Students were taught a particular dogma along with reading and writing and arithmetic. But at the same time, there was a strong current of the importance of self-governance in those early schools. America was founded largely to prevent “taxation without representation.” Therefore the ability to write laws for oneself was of utmost importance. Thus, the early students in American schools were largely Northern European males. The belief was that white males had the intelligence to govern the people, therefore, they needed the education.

Following the Civil War, the idea that all men (and later, women) needed an education was a revolutionary idea. It was an idea that changed the face of this nation.

Modern schools have strayed far from this ideal of education as a medium for promoting thought. It concerns me that many of today’s students have lost that ideal. Education for them is simply a way that children must spend their days until they are of such age that they may work. For some, education is the means to a better paying job, or at least a job with more status. For others, the middle school and high school are stepping stones to college. However, they still have little concept of what it means to be an educated citizen. At this stage they are simply thinking about a job and making money.

Granted, I teach 12-13-14 year olds who have not developed conceptually to the point of abstract thought. Or to use Piagetian terminology, they have not yet reached the formal operations stage. However, I do not see the concept of education as a tool for participating in a self-governing political structure discussed in many classrooms albeit in rudimentary fashion. To my way of thinking, that concept should be basic to the tenets of American education. If our students are not educated to the wider world around us, introduced to the opportunities of participating in government, and oriented to the issues facing their generation, we have failed them. Educators would do well to remember that learning how to learn, is key to our students’ future success. Learning how to think and think about thinking (metacognition) will serve them well to become responsible citizens in a participatory government.

2009-11-19T20:15:00.002-06:00

Cleaning out my email, I found this. And it spoke to me today. Hope it speaks to you, too! (Author, unknown)

Best Prayer I Have Heard In A Long Time... Heavenly Father, help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children. Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester. Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares. Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that -- based on the biopsy report she got back last week -- this will be the last year that they go shopping together. Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not to just those that are close to us, but to all humanity. Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive, show patience, empathy and love.

2009-11-13T20:39:00.003-06:00

"Am I a week early for my appointment?" I greeted my therapist yesterday.

She burst into laughter, "So, it's been that kind of week?"

She should know. The day before I had missed the massage appointment completely.

Right now I'm seated on the floor with my back resting on a movable partition at O'Hare. My eyes are firmly glued on concourse "L" watching for Teresa to get here from Ecuador.

I've already done this act once -- for the 8:00 flight. Now it's a repeat performance for the 11:00 flight.

At least she's not at the gate waiting for me to come get her -- what I feared earlier. Meantime, try to find something to DO while waiting two hours in the visiting portion of the airport. It's worse than a bus/train station -- tried that this summer.

Outside of the secure areas, there is no seating, no food, no stores -- nothing. Okay, there's a scaled-down S-Bucks with two little ice cream parlor tables, two chairs each. I didn't feel like arm-wrestling the young athletic types sitting there for the seats. So I opted to go across the street to the Hilton. However, on the way there, I discovered an employee area with seating, adjacent to the parking lot...and it had more food than the coffee shop.

Then I realized that it also hid a shortcut to the parking lot. Change of plans. I found my car and got paper to write and a book to read.

Forty-five minutes later, I've had my exercise. Armed with a Sun-Time, a book, a notebook and a bottle of orange juice, I'm settled in to wait for my friend.

As long as security doesn't run me out for vagrancy!

2009-11-02T13:43:00.002-06:00

GOD'S FUNNY TIMING

I just gotta say, God has the most terrific sense of humor. How could I ever doubt that he's in charge of things! His lessons are so clear!

Sunday, I preached from Matthew 5:14-16 "You are the light of the world--like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house."

God's intention is that we affect our world. That we make a difference.

Then I added Ephesians 1:12-14 "The Spirit is God's guarantee that he will give us the inheritance he promised and that he has purchased us to be his own people. He did this so we would praise and glorify him."

So that God's intention for us is that we would influence our world -- He has given us the power to do so. When we obey, it is to the praise of his glory.

I talked about everyday opportunities to serve...to come out of our walls that we build to protect us from the world ... to let down our defenses and go forth to relate to others, one at a time.

Then...THAT SAME NIGHT...I get a phone call that an old friend is coming for an extended stay. Now I love my friend...she's a wonderful person. But I'm sure you understand that having another adult move in with you is an adjustment and definitely breaches whatever "walls" one may have set up. It's laughable especially considering that the last house guest we had was not as positive as one would have hoped. And...left less than one month ago.

God does not intend to let me occupy my "Walled house" with only hubby!! Like I said, God has a sense of humor. And...I'm sure that I'm in for some serious life lessons.

I'm delighted to be able to assist her, and Teresa is a marvelous person. She's helpful. I'll have to encourage her to do LESS housework, etc. because she's just like that. But...another female in one's personal space, is still another person in one's personal space. Ergo. My wall's coming down fast. Really fast.

She's arriving November 13!!!

I hear God's smile. At least he hasn't forgotten me. He hasn't given up on me. He believes that he can still teach this old dog new tricks!!!!

So I'll just join God and enjoy the joke on me.... LOL

And do my best to learn these new lessons.

2009-10-15T22:42:00.002-05:00

This and that

Really busy day. If you deal with adolescents, October and March are the two months in which they act out most. Seriously. Adolescent psych units are beginning to fill ... most will be at capacity by October 31... then it will slowly taper off to a low the week of December 20th and build back to another peak March 15. Yep. The Ides of March is the second peak of adolescent angst. Usually smaller than Oct 31. By October's stats we'll know what kind of year we will have. Kind of like the day after Thanksgiving is to the prediction of the Christmas season purchases.

We're working hard to find creative interventions to help students -- not just the usual suspensions and detentions. It's mind-boggling work. Today involved everything from an adolescent love breakup--sort of-- to helping a mom get food for the family --to a case of possession of stolen property.

It reminded me a bit today of the time I spent working in an emergency room. For a few months, I was the Psych resource for the ER. Nothing like warring spouses in the middle of the night brought in because they were throwing furniture from the trailer at one another....or once a prisoner from the local jail who had attempted to hang herself from the sprinkler system and broke one off and flooded the jail. That one had an edge of humor. She wasn't hurt, but oh, boy were the cops ticked off. That was a long time ago!

I've learned a few things about myself lately -- but that's for another time. Right now, I'm just cleaning closets!!! I must get rid of several pair of shoes. Do I hear Garage Sale???

2009-10-03T20:32:00.004-05:00

Lost Time

What is it with time?? This afternoon I took to my couch for a little rest. I turned my cable to a romantic comedy that I know well. That usually puts me to sleep. I watched the first fifteen minutes of "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" before I napped for about twenty minutes. I woke up when she ruined the date at his house watching the Nicks game. And then just blinked a time or two. But when my eyes unblinked, I couldn't find the movie anywhere. An entirely different movie was on!! What is it with time? Where did it go?

Speaking of time and seasons, this afternoon my favorite discount "clothing and stuff" store was putting out Christmas decorations! Folks, it's October 3!!! This isn't even Australia; it's still almost three months until Christmas. What's worse, I bought a package of gold-tone pine cones and such. There were only a few of them and I need new stuff for the bowl that sits on the coffee table during the season. Oh well. Maybe I'll just move to Australia. At least there it's tomorrow, one day closer to Christmas.

And...I think when I came out of TJ's there were bits of snow in the cold misty rain that was falling!!! I'm just sayin'

2009-10-02T16:40:00.003-05:00

Yesterday's Brain Malfunction
and a shadow of one today!!!

8:20 - headed to school, with two stops planned. One for coffee, one for a bank deposit.
8:30 - Coffee purchased
8:35 - Drove past bank by 1 mile. U-turned, returned to bank.
8:40 - Drove past bank in other direction by 2 blocks. U-turned, returned to bank.
8:45 - Drove through Drive-through to make deposit. Oops No checks.
8:46 - Drove to school - Arrived with 5 minutes to spare.

11:30 - Went out to lunch with stop at house and bank planned.
12:00 - Finished lunch - drove 3.5 miles to house to get checkbook.
12:10 - Found checkbook -
12:11 - Drove past bank by 1 mile. U-turned (at same spot), returned to bank
12:15 - Drove through drive through to make deposit.
12:30 - Returned to work. Whew!!

Today

Me: Oh, I forgot to give you that form. I'll put it in your mailbox.
Betty: Sure, no problem.

I go get form, go to office and place in a personal mailbox.

Twenty minutes later in the lunchroom.

Betty: You didn't put that form in my mailbox.

Me: Sure I did! Uh....I didn't?

Betty: (Laughing) Nope. I looked through every mailbox in the office. You put it in your own mailbox!!! Another Phylis-ism!!! (still laughing)

Me: (Laughing also) I tried!!

2009-09-28T20:59:00.004-05:00

ME AND MY TOWELS

The contrast between the white facecloth and the gray towels!

I’ve had a thing about towels since I was thirteen and became responsible for the laundry. After our house burned, we had donations, piles of donations, of clothing, dishes, and towels, among other things. I’d go to the Laundromat and wash my thin little towels as best I could. Some had the nap mostly worn off; a few were newer, but none were plush and soft.

I so remember watching a young woman wash piles of soft plush towels, bright, colorful towels at the Laundromat one day. I commented, “You really have pretty towels.”

“Thank you. They were wedding presents,” she replied.

While we folded clothes, the young bride and the thirteen-year-old had a casual conversation about how long she’d been married, etc. I listened to her talk about the wedding, but mostly, I was envying her towels.

Sure enough when I got married nearly ten years later, among our wedding presents were soft plush towels. Now I could go to the Laundromat and fold my beautiful towels with pride. What can I say? It was a symbol for me, a sign that I was moving up in the world. Since then, I’ve been delighted every time we redecorate a bathroom and buy a new set of soft plush towels.

Somewhere in the eighties, I discovered bath sheets, those wonderfully huge oversized towels that one can wrap up in after a long bath or hot shower. Although they cost more, I stock bath sheets in my bathrooms. The expense is mitigated by the longevity of such luxurious towels. The white ones in my guest bathroom have survived two re-decorations of the room. They are huge, soft, beautiful and white.

Alas one out of four is now white. The other three are a dull gray. They were purchased for my bright green and chrome décor in 1999; they survived the more recent redo with seafoam green and soft blue décor in 2008. They have not survived my last adventure in hospitality and, apparently, regular washing in the machine with blue jeans!! My gorgeous white towels and blue jeans!!! I’m mourning the loss of my beautiful white bath sheets, while still working one last time to see if the miracle of Oxyclean will revive them.

Sigh! The things one learns, even at my age.

2009-08-16T18:27:00.000-05:00

An Exerpt that moved me to tears
(and I'm re-publishing it because I was just reminded of Mary's pain and the reward)

" The young woman felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She gazed into the piercing eyes of the aged holy man, but she really didn’t want to hear his haunting warning about her Son and their future:

This child marks both the failure and the recovery of many…, a figure misunderstood and contradicted—the pain of a sword-thrust through you—but the rejection will force honesty, as God reveals who they really are. (Luke 2:34-35 Message,)

Everything was fine until the unexpected teen pregnancy. Her fiancé wasn’t the father of the child, but he still agreed to marry her in an awkward an earlier-than-planned marriage ceremony.

Her abrupt disappearance to spend several months with an older relative some distance away launched a storm of speculation back home. The tongue-wagging among the hometown busybodies only increased when she returned with obvious changes in her physical appearance that could only mean a baby was coming.

(The favorite phrase traded across tables, shared at the village market, and whispered from ear to ear at public events was “hurry-up wedding.”)

Then came the emergency do-it-yourself baby delivery in a small country town far from home and separated from the rest of her family and friends.

These were the circumstance neighbors speculated on and were more than happy to repeat.

Years later, she would read a handwritten letter from someone who was her Son’s closest associate in His final years on earth. It began, “To the elect lady…´(2John 1:1, emphasis added). Although the letter did not bear her name, she knew John had addressed it to her.

Mary was “elected” or chosen for her unique task and mission in the same manner that you were chosen by God for a unique role of your own that only you can fulfill.

HOW MANY WILL BE AFFECTED BY YOUR OBEDIENCE?

She was not merely appointed to an “office”; she was chosen for a mission, designated for a function, reserved for a destiny.

Her obedience, along with the lifelong obedience unto death of her Son, Jesus, would affect billions of lives and countless generations. How many will be affected by your obedience or disobedience to the Master’s election?"

And here I have to stop and go contemplate what I’ve read…my husband has already spotted where we can buy the entire book..he has now left the house to go buy it!! I really want to read this book by Eddie Long, The Elect Lady.

(Click the book for a hot link to Bishop Long's website. It sends you to Amazon to purchase. If you're like me and can't wait...Barnes and Noble carries it also!!

I receive no reward for this endorsement other than the good feeling I get when I share a valued resource with friends!

2009-07-28T13:25:00.004-05:00

A Farewell to Vacation

I just tried my hand at an ode -- but I'm not in poetic mode, muse has fled the airport in despair. Maybe the change from sea breeze to mountain air has fried my brain the way it frizzed my hair. I have serious hair problems in the tropics!!! I have mountain hair!

Yesterday, I tried to get Bob and Kiko, the little capucine, asleep on the little jungle patio at our B & B. But they both opened their eyes when I walked toward them. Kiko more so than Bob.

This morning I fed Kiko banana left from my breakfast and he as so happy that.... well let's just say he was VERY happy!!!

So now, I'm at the airport debriefing...trying to set my brain to face civilization again. Wondering which of the habits we've acquired here are possible to keep at home. Some of them, yes.

For example, I love the continental breakfast. It would be really easy to do....just get my derriere in gear each morning. We even have the patio to eat it on, ala Costa Rica. I brought back the small seat-type hammock. I'm going to get that strung up...if I have to climb the tree myself!!! Then, I have to find a half hour or so each day to sit and relax!! Possible. Not easy, but possible.

We're both more relaxed. Knowing things are well at home helps....Rob and Christy are so very reliable to tend the church. With Rodney, Rob, Rachel & Company, the music is always well-done. (Yes, Debbie you are included here!!) Jorge (Lidna, that's not YOUR Jorge!) keeps an eye on the house and the church with help from Kenny.

We thought this visit to Costa Rica was a one-time thing, based on where the plane tickets were most economical. We are finding, however, that we really like the place, the people, the culture.

I only need Mel Gibson to donate his beachfront property in Playa Casilla and we'd be able to start ministry!!! :) Who's ready to migrate with us???? (I know, I'm out of my mind! But God sometimes has strange plans!)

Do I look crazy?? Okay, only a little!!!

2009-07-24T13:27:00.006-05:00

Conversation between Costa Rican horses

Soledad: Look what we have now! Two aging, chubby Americans.

Dolores: Ai! This man can't even get on. Did you see? She gave him a shove to get him up.

Soledad: Here she comes. Can't get on either. Senor Daniel found a traffic bump she can climb on. There she goes. She made it.

Dolores: This guy doesn't know what he's doing. I'll just take a little break here in the street.

Soledad: Okay. Headed for the beach. But wait this crazy woman is taking pictures of my butt!

Dolores: Maybe I can rake this guy off at the fence. Darn!! He hung on...just scraped his leg a little.

Soledad: She thinks she's a cowgirl, but I almost hit her head on that tree in the alley.

Dolores: This guy is making strange sounds trying to get me to speed up. Good thing he doesn't know what he's doing. I'll just keep plodding along.

Dolores: Should I speed up a bit? Just to keep up with you guys.

Soledad: Up to you.

Dolores: I gotta go....and this guy won't even let me stop for a minute for a potty break. Strange noises again! What does a girl have to do for some privacy around here.

Soledad: She's worried that Daniel won't be going to school when it starts Monday. Ai! The questions these Americans ask.

Dolores: Now he's telling stories about wild dogs in some place called Ecuador. I think he has a phobia about dogs.

Soledad: Almost finished. My back hurts.

Dolores: I'm just tired of these cityslickers!

Soledad: Yikes! Now she can't get off. Come on lady that leg has to swing over the saddle to the other side!!! How long do I have to stand here!!!

Dolores: I think he's gonna just sit up there all day!!! Come on, man, get down. Oh here she comes. Does she really think she's gonna lift him down??? Heaven help us all!!

Soledad: They did it! Both of them. I think they're in one piece too. She's walking funny though.

Dolores: I'm walking funny!!! Where's the pasture. What does a girl have to do for some rest around here.

2009-07-21T20:41:00.010-05:00

First Impressions

One always assimilates the new by comparison, contrast and associations with the familiar. It struck me right away, before we even landed that San Jose reminds me forcefully of Quito.

The first thing that made me smile was the juxtaposition of the Denny's and the Fiesta Casino. I realized that Denny's was the fancy restaurant associated with the Casino. A few miles later the same phenomena occurred. Another casino, another Denny's.

Our first hotel in San Jose was homey, clean and quite lovely. The patio was a virtual jungle complete with parrots and a little capucine monkey with a sad face. (I'm trying one more time to upload more pics. If it doesn't work this time, it'll have to wait!!)

We got acquainted with San Jose a bit before heading to the coast. San Jose is clean and well organized -- except for traffic. Traffic in Latin American counties is.... well traffic in latin America!!! The people are quite friendly. Bob blended immediately. They mistook him for a Tikko right away! Me? Well, what does one do with red hair that shouts "Gringa?"

Having quite a lovely time. Although on the road to the coast, I was stopped by an efficient traffic cop. Ma'am, did you know you're doing 94 kph? In Costa Rica the limits are 80, 60 adn 40. You are in an 80 kph limit. The law says, and he shows me the book, there is a 50,000 colon fine for speeding. This has to be paid at a bank and there will be 30% fees added for processing. I'm gulping, eyes wide and very respectful. He gives me the whole spiel and I think I'm had. (About $130.00 American) Then he says, "First time in Costa Rica?" Gulp. "Si!" Well, I'm going to just warn you this time. "Gracias, Gracias." "But no more speeding." "Si, senor! No mas." (No picture, I didn't dare.)

And relieved...we head on down the road. For some reason, my foot is considerably lighter the rest of the way to the coast. It just won't go faster than 70-75 to Samara!!!

Nice, polite people, these Costa Ricans. Very effective!

2009-07-16T01:34:00.005-05:00

Anatomy of a crazy day!

This is me at 1:36 A.M. this morning. It's had been one of those days!

8:00 a.m. leave for work
9:00 a.m. - 1:30 p.m. - work
1:30 - 3:30 - errands, preparing for arrival of friends
5:00 p.m. go pick up rental car
5:30 p.m. first of guests arrive from O'Hare
6:00 p.m. Dinner
7:20 p.m. Home again, home again
8:00 p.m. Hubby leaves for Midway
9:15 P.m. Hubby calls; asks for help locating arrivals
9:20 p.m. Check airport arrivals
9:22 p.m. Call hubby back -- plane has arrived
9:30 p.m. Receive facebook message from one of the arrived party -- cell phone that hubby has # for is dead. no one else has hubby's cell #. Gave hubby's cell # to facebooking guest.
9:31 p.m. Called Hubby, gave location of guests...guest had already called per number given by facebook
9:33 p.m. Happy reunion of hubby and guests at airport.
10:45 p.m. Hubby arrives with party of 6 guests
11:05 p.m. Hit Mickey-D -- only place open for food. Feed guests!!
12:00 p.m. Pick up car for guests use
12:04 a.m. Take group of 5 guests to their accomodations
12:30 a.m. Take group of 2 guests to pick up rental car then to their accomodations
1:00 a.m. Return borrowed van to owner (One hubby drove to airport)
1:20 a.m. Arrived home
1:22 a.m. Facebook
1:45 a.m. Time for night-night!!!!
6:30 a.m. Will come toooo quickly -- must work tomorrow!!!! !

P.S. What did we do without technology. A dead cell phone-- the only phone number we had and the only phone that had our number -- the contact phone -- would have meant disaster. But Facebook saved the day. If ever I needed an excuse for FB, that was it!!!! Justified!

2009-07-11T17:56:00.003-05:00

A lovely Afternoon

I'm sitting on my little patio (no roof, so it's not a porch) in front of the house. A beautiful, sunny, warm summer afternoon drinking a Caramel Collision Coffee Chiller, an invention of Pat Jamin, one of the proprietors of my favorite gourmet Cafe, Al's Cafe in downtown Elgin. I just had the thought, "Life can't get much better." Yet it isn't that EVERYTHING is so wonderful. I can think that "if only..." But the point is that this is one of those perfect moments in time. Relaxed. Sunshiney. Nothing major on my mind at the moment. Bills will be paid tomorrow. Lesson Plans finished later. That problem addressed next week. The other concern travailed over at another time. This moment is one of those perfect ones. Just me, the sunshine, my computer and the neighborhood in which there isn't another soul astir at the moment. Lovely.

Thank you God for an Oasis, a moment in time in which to enjoy your world, your work and contemplate the good things of life. Did I mention the Carmel Collision Coffee Cooler?

Thank you God.

P.S. Do you know how hard it is to take a picture of oneself?? It has to be a closeup -- unless one has octopi arms. The first pictures alternately showed: the wrinkles on my neck, the bags under my left eye (not even the under eye bags match!), my droopy left eye, eyes squinted too much, mouth drawn from trying to get the arms out farther for LESS of a close up. Finally my dear hubby emerged from the bowels of the house and agreed to snap this one shot. While I could point out the faults in this pictures as well, I shall not because at least it's not too closeup!! You will agree with me to ignore chubby arms an legs! Yes you will because I said so!

Did I mention that the Caramel Collision Coffee Cooler is delicious? And the day is sunny and bright?

2009-07-03T16:56:00.005-05:00

Travel tales

Taste of Chicago today.

On the train via Chicago, the train begins to fill up. We know this through power of deduction. When three thousand people traipse through the car and try to take two seats while two of your party is in the bathroom, if you''re really sharp you'll figure it out: The train must be very full. I'm smart like that.

So the conductor comes on the intercom. "The train is filled past seating capacity. If you are not going all the way to Chicago, please stand up."

We look at each other. Even the 7-year old thought that was an odd request. No one in our car stood up. He only paused for a moment before he continued.

"Then please get off the train." We start to giggle, thinking it must be a joke. Nope. No joke. He continues.

"Deboard the train at this station if your destination is other than Chicago. This will now be an express train. We will make no more stops before Chicago. Please wait on the platform for another train. There is another train 20 minutes behind this one and will take you to your destination."

Well people, please get off. I don't want that train catching up with us!! I'm thinking. But I have to admit I was happy that we were now on an express train.

Don't think I'd be that happy if I'd been getting off somewhere other than Chicago!!!

2009-06-29T16:35:00.006-05:00

Travel Notes

There are two choices for behavior in an airport. Some people pretend it's their living room and proceed to talk loudly, chew wildly and fart with affinity. Or maybe I'm the one who has the affinity for attracting such people. A 25-year old (who acts like he's 16) sits in the row behind me in the gate area. I'm quietly working on my computer. I have the noise muted; I'm behaving politely. HE, on the other hand, LOUDLY informs his friend of every move he's making on his video game. It looks like the same hand-held game that my 5 year-old nephew managed very politely in the car. Only this character does a play-by-play of his effort. If a reality show ever included a play-by-play of a video game, switch the channel. Or shut the guy up if it's in person!!

"CAN YOU BELIEVE I JUST DIED ON THE FIRST SCREEN AT THE FIRST CHALLENGE IN THIS..." He goes on.

His friend responds quietly.

"NO YOU DON'T GET IT. I WAS ELIMINATED IN THE FIRST ROUND ON THE FIRST SCREEN AT THE FIRST LEVEL!" He screamed loudly enough to be heard three gates down in spite of maximum Sunday traffic at the airport. His laughter sounded like the screech of a stuck pig, only more annoying.

I got it the first time. Don't know why his friend didn't.

After devising and rejecting several scenarios in which he would be told (by me) to be quiet (not terribly politely but very effectively), I simply moved several rows away right by the window outside which the jets were warming up and right next to a two year old playing in the floor. Much more peaceful there!!

Oh yeah, the other choice of behavior for people at an airport. Act like me. Just like sheep. Don't disturb anybody. Don't tell the rude idiot to behave. Don't rock the boat. Just look the other way and keep grazing. Munch, munch. Baa Baa.

2009-06-26T17:10:00.002-05:00

Travel Notes

I forgot my 3-1-1 today. I tried to get a 5 oz bottle -- only half full of hair conditioner through in my carry on. I must have lost the old Southern charm. She wasn't havin any of it! So with reluctance, I tossed a 5 Oz bottle half full of Mizani hair conditioner. That stuff is hard to find. It takes the frizz and the crimp out of my hair. So I'll be frizzy this trip.

Don't forget. It's 3-1-1. Let's see 3 oz of liquid in 1 1-quart baggie. Although I did have mine in a 1-gallon baggie and she let all the rest in. Warned me though. So I guess I'm half charmin'!!!

Gotta get this thing logged off. They should be calling for loading shortly.

2009-06-24T20:34:00.002-05:00

More things for which I am Thankful

That the windshield I saw splintered from the heat was not mine. (And that I'm able to pray for encouragement for the owner/driver.)
That my house has some air conditioning, in my office, in the bedroom, in the den. Whew!
That my car has adequate air conditioning...that works after about 20 minutes.
That my inhaler worked well yesterday to clear my breathing passages in this humidity...and that I haven't had to use it today.
That I have a job to drive to in this heat.
That I have a lovely shower with which to wash off all the sweat I'm now capable of producing!

Are these "thankfulness" entries a bit like prayer meetings with prayer requests "prayer for dear so-and-so. You won't believe what I saw her doing?!"

I suppose I'd better behave myself!! But truly, I am thankful for these things that help me cope with the heat!!

2009-06-23T21:26:00.003-05:00

Things for which I'm thankful

That there is air conditioning at summer school which keeps the rooms less than 88 degrees That's truly a blessing when there is a 105 heat index outside.

That I'm recovering from the effects of chemotherapy and am now able to sweat buckets!

That my heat flashes are totally obliterated in the hot air...I don't even notice them at all. Maybe I'm not even having any. Maybe all the sweating is just from the heat.

That I wasn't nearby when the road exploded from the heat. The scattered cement from the crumbled curb looks like it could have done some damage.

That my car had no trouble going slowly over the 2 foot bump in the road created by the heat buckled pavement.

That there is a bathroom located only 15 feet from my classroom door so I can run when 4 hours of continuous teaching without a break wreaks havoc with my system. (You guess which system!)

That I'm still able to run -- okay at least trot a bit.

Did I mention sweating?

That it hasn't snowed in 57 days!

2009-06-21T19:44:00.003-05:00

T-Shirts, Diction and other aspects of human miscommunication

I was walking down the street three feet behind hubby because . . . I was just too tired to move fast. We were headed for our favorite eatery Al's Cafe. Hubby was hungry and hadn't noticed. I was thinking about how strange it looked for me to be trailing behind....I was contemplating foreign cultures...when I looked up and read the back of his shirt. It read: "I wish to communicate with you." I laughed!!

In the grocery store, the clerk says: "Twizzers ur soup ur savor!"

I glanced at the counter and saw a package of red candy where the "Super Saver" of the day resides and shook my head, paying very little attention.

Another clerk came up beside her, filling the change bins or some such work-related thing. I heard but didn't focus: "Posted jer trash tickets?"

I'm digging in my wallet for my debit card and hear again: "Posted jer trash tickets?"

"I wonder what kind of trash tickets checkout clerks have to post..." I thought as I continued moving things around in my very large purse.

Her voice is getting irritated now. "Posted jer trash tickets?" I glance up disinterestedly to see what the drama is about, and the full wrath of her glare catches me full in the face. "Posted jer trash tickets?" She spits it at me.

"Are you talking to me?" I ask looking around for somebody that she might be yelling at.

"Posted jer trash tickets?" She repeats it forcefully.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea what you're talking about. Am I supposed to post some trash tickets somewhere?" Totally confused.

"Postejer trash tickets?" Her mantra continues.

"I don't have any trash tickets," I explain uselessly.

"To buy any," She says.

"No. I don't want any trash tickets." I reply.

"Postej?" she asks.

Light dawning, "Oh. You mean, Do I want to purchase postage or trash tickets." I blurt out.
I thought you said, "Posted your trash tickets"?

"That's what I said," she repeats. "Postejur trash tickets."

"No. I thought you said, POSTED YOUR TRASH TICKETS and you said, POSTAGE OR TRASH TICKETS." At which point she shrugs, obviously not understanding. And we both were relieved to be away from that "other" dumb woman who can't speak/understand plain English!!!

P.S. SIGH. (But hubby was with me. He says he didn't get what she was saying either!)

2009-06-09T08:21:00.003-05:00

MUSICAL COMING

It's a sneak preview of "Down By the Creek Bank" coming June 14 at JCC. But of course I didn't grab my camera until the solo was finished. (Granddaughter in the brown dress) And then my camera cut out for a bit. So I added pics and the track.

2009-06-01T22:22:00.002-05:00

The silent treatment

I am garrulous by nature. A few years ago I had laryngitis and was ordered voice rest for a week. Conversations did not happen. The silence in the car screamed at me, and I hated it. Maybe he didn't mind. I didn't ask.

But I think I'm not very good about the silent thing. So a few days ago, I was irritated about something and decided to try the silent treatment. I answered with short answers if he asked questions. I listened to what he said and responded very briefly. I only brought up immediately necessary matters. But finally after a couple of days, I got tired of waiting for him to notice that I was behaving differently. At least I thought I was behaving differently. Maybe my short answers weren't short enough. And maybe those necessary matters weren't really necessary at all. Maybe I just like to talk. Or maybe he just enjoyed the relative silence.

He hadn't noticed. So we talked. But by then, I wasn't really irritated anymore. I just wanted to quit being quiet. So we fussed for a few minutes and it was all over. No drama. And he had to take a nap before we could even continue. I think after 39.75 years of marriage, the silent treatment doesn't work.

Or maybe I haven't learned to be silent. I may not be good at it. I am by nature garrulous!!

2009-05-31T20:42:00.002-05:00

A little bit of drama!

The Red Shoes!

Down by the Creek Bank
Coming...June 14, 2009
Don't miss the Musical!!

2009-05-23T17:13:00.003-05:00

Bats in the Belfry

We had to hire our friendly animal trapper again. Racoons in the attic! He says he got everything and will release her into the forest where she can happily build a nest for those new babies she's about to have. Whew! Dodged that bullet. But sometimes I still hear noises.

I woke up feverish a couple of nights ago and to my horror saw the shadow of a bat on my ceiling, right above the bedroom. I stopped myself from screaming...just barely. I didn't want to make noise or movement and startle the very still animal. Then it moved a bit. And I realized that it was a shadow. So where is the critter?? Where's the source of light. I carefully turn my head. There's no light coming in the bedroom window to cast such a shadow. Oh! Just a minute. It's in the circle of light cast by our old people clock -- the kind that shows the time in digital figures on the ceiling. Then... Think, Phylis, think. Oh, it has to be tiny then. A funny shaped bug on the lamp of that clock.

Then the creature moved yet again. It's not a bat; it's a beetle! A beetle on the clock. Then it moved again and lost one pincher. At some point, my brain overcame the feverish stupor and figured it out.

"Shadow Animals." Made by black spaces between digital numbers projected on the ceiling and one malfunctioning brain.

And that boys and girls, is the end of the "Bats in the Belfrey" saga. You figure it out. Who has bats in the belfrey?

. . .

2009-05-22T21:07:00.005-05:00

Warning: Humor May be Dangerous to Your Illness. The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter. --Mark Twain

What is there about being ill that brings out the grouch in me? I'm driving home from the doctor yesterday morning grumbling -- yes, out loud -- about something that happened two or three weeks ago.

Coming home from work through the park, a couple of kids were standing in the street with their hands outstretched. I thought they might have a remote control in their hands, or a kite strings. One was standing on the edge of the street, the other blocking the entry to a small parking lot there. They were right at the beginning of a backward Z configuration with the lagoon on my right. I grabbed my cell phone to call the cops for the kids safety, but wanted to get past before I dialed. They didn't appear to be in trouble, had happy expressions like they were playing some role. As I turn down the long trunk of the Z, there's a man in the street. He's actually standing in the lane where oncoming traffic would be. I'm creeping along at about 3 miles an hour trying to figure out what's going on, when a woman starts yelling at me. She's blocking the lane I would have turned into on the final leg of the Z. And still yelling. Suddenly a line of bicycles appear coming from the parking lot that is behind me now. My car is now in the middle of the intersection, the woman is yelling stop, and I'm still confused. I slowly edge left trying to get out of the way of the bikes, which I do. No cyclist is ever in danger from me, but that woman sure was. I called the cops and left some innocent telephone intake person with my opinions about idiot civilians who place young children in the street, stand in the wrong places, don't have any identifiers to let motorists know what's going on, and try to stop traffic. Albeit for a good cause.

The irony? It was the bicycle leg of a triathlon for cancer!!

And now, weeks later I'm sick with influenza and fussing about it!!!

And now that I think about it, that's not such a good effort at humor!

Better luck next time!!

2009-05-20T22:07:00.003-05:00

To Oink, or not to Oink

That is the question!

This morning I thought I had an allergic reaction to some perfume in my first hour classroom. It's happened before. I do my usual coughing, followed within an hour or two by sneezes and a raspy throat. By the time I left school, I had the congestion in my chest, well on my way to bronchitis which is a bit ahead of schedule for an allergic episode. Usually it takes a couple of days for the bronchitis to set it.

It's a beautiful day here. I came home and finished planting flowers, but really didn't have my heart in it. I just didn't feel very good. I quit when I got a headache, thinking that besides the sinus reaction, I had sunstroke as well. Then I began to feel warm.

And I decided to rethink it all. . . The thermometer is still only registering 99.2, but I took a couple of naproxen so a fever would be curtailed somewhat.

I shall go tomorrow and find out if I have that nasty little virus: N1H1. Wouldn't that be the irony of ironies? I've Poo pooed the media over reaction to this virus. And now guess who probably has it??? LOL It's good I can laugh on the keyboard, cause if I try in person, it sets off the coughing!!! hack! hack!!!

Oh did I mention that the absence rate at our school right now is somewhere between 6% and ???. Twenty-five kids were sent home today with a fever. And, trust me, our nurse doesn't send kids home for nothing. Do I hear school closing??? AND...guess who wouldn't get to enjoy the days off!!! Hack! hack!!! hack!!!

I'm going to bed!!! Keep well! Take the vitamin C...eat well, get plenty of rest...and drink lots of water!!! Hack!! Hack!!! Hack!!! Be glad you're not my neighbor!

Nighty-night!