Lessons from third graders

I am a reading specialist, a reading facilitator, no one is really sure my title... especially me.
I work with first graders mostly, but I get to go hang out with third graders during the day too. It is, aside from the paperwork and not really knowing how to use my time wisely, a great great job. I love it.
I have a small group of third graders at the moment that I work with every day. Every time I walk into their classrooms, their friends in the class beg and plead to come with me too. As soon as I walk in the rooms, you can see the other kids sit up straighter, look at me with a hopeful smile. "Me! I want to be picked next!!" I never do though, (again, we are talking a lack of time here) but it is always great to know that I am wanted and needed.

The biggest group of third graders I deal with consists of boys. No girls, just boys, so it is a challenge finding books that they can read and will want to read.
I used my handy dandy Bookbuilder CD and made books all about them... with their names in them the other day.
You would have thought I gave them gold! These kids were amazed, as they looked onto other books to check and see if their name was on their friend's book too. They read and read the book at least 5 times and were dissapointed when they had to stop to go back to class. This was THEIR book, no doubt. They had been made special. They had been made something important.
One of the third graders, as he was walking away with his book said, "I am goign to keep this book forever and ever. I am going to show this to my son when I am grown up!"
Wow.
It was that important.

Right now I am missing Cursillo. It is happening without me this time because I am WAY too busy. I didn't realize how much I would truly miss the activities, the friendships, the way God talks to you in the craziest ways. I am thinking alot about God recently. I haven't made enough time for God in my life. I haven't been one of those kids who, when God walks in, sits up straight and tall and says, "please pick me!" I have been the one still sitting at a desk, too involved in the work of the day to even notice that a visitor has entered the room. I have been caught up in me, my work, and my life and haven't let God in.

And I know God wants to talk to me. He calls me... Just like he called Zacheus and Samuel, long ago. He called them BY NAME to work with them, talk with them, and love them. Maybe God has taken the time to write my name in a book. Maybe God has taken the time to make things special for me. Do I cherish that enough? Do I appreciate that enough? Do I read that book over and over soaking up the fact that HE used MY name? Or do I just read through it, not noticing what a special gift it is?

I hope that I can take the time today to get past the reading and the research and the dirty house, and focus on God and His Love and I can notice when he walks in the door. I can hear when he calls MY name. And I can say, "Here I am Lord, Your servant is here."

I never said "I do".

I wouldn't really call it eloping. We had the whole thing planned. I wasn't really a girl who needed to have the big fluffy wedding. We didn't have a church at the time, and my 90 year old matron of honor wasn't alive anymore, so why not look for other options? It was pretty easy. My mom made my dress so after that, it was just one phone call... decide what date, what time, and what color flowers, and the wedding was all set! In the world of weddings, I would consider it a very very low key event.


On the way to get our marriage license the day before, we met an Elvis impersonator, and a hooker who had to have been in her 80s! "This is Vegas, Baby!"
The day of the wedding, BT and I spent time shopping and playing in the casinos. We played, laughed, and kissed in front of statues. We had the best time.

While my mom, my friends and I primped before the wedding, BT and my dad hung out in the bar close to the chapel and bonded. BT even got some marriage advice from a drunk woman who had been married three times.
I can remember walking through the casino being congratulated by anyone and everyone. Old ladies stopped playing video poker just to wish me luck. It was amazing!
And then I was there, sitting in a room about to throw up. I wasn't regretting anything, I was just nervous that I would mess up, or maybe BT would get scared and not show.

Since we were in a castle, it was of course fitting for Merlin to marry us. We didn't request that, it just was a perk of the wedding package.
He looked rather official in his garb, and we got to say very fancy shmancy Elizabethan words.
I loved getting to vow to BT, "All my worldly goods, to thee I do endow".
One thing though, I never got asked the question... I never got to say "I DO".

So, seven years later, I have a few things I want to say to BT...

Thanks for showing up that day. Thanks for meeting me at the front of the chapel. Thanks for putting up with me and my craziness. Thanks for being silly with me and laughing and playing with me for so long. Thanks for listening to me and valuing my feelings. Thanks for being my best friend. Thanks for killing mice and large bugs for me. Thanks for always making sure I have oil in my car and that my phone is charged. Thanks for worrying about me and loving me so very much.
If you ever start to wonder if I love you and if I appreciate you... let me say for the record. I DO. Forever and always.

Deep Fried Oreos?????

I went to Canton last weekend... I LOVE Canton!!!
So, here are some things I learned from Canton...

*even bathrooms with curtains instead of doors on the stalls might still have attendants. Tip them well... especially if they have to fish your phone out of the toilet. Damn those shallow pockets!

*real lemonade rocks more than you will ever know. It at least helps to soothe the pain of the toilet water soaked cell phone.

*fair food is always the best. Anything on a stick is preferred...oh or deep fried. Can't forget the deep fried crap! You could get your heart attack from fried twinkies, fried snickers, or the newest and greatest deep fried oreo. Wow. I didn't however, try any of those things. Darn the big lunch!!!

*sparkly, fuzzy things are so IN! Why decorate your home with plain lamp shades when you can pretty them up with boas? Why have just a plain bulletin board when you can make it beautiful with fun fur and more feathers? Why have a plain purse when you can have one made totally out of fake animal fur? Why go out in public in boring chamo when you can have bedazzled chamo? Ah the fashion of Dallas/East Texas.

*the NEWEST and greatest thing is the one size fits all plastic stretchy jacket thing. ugh, I can't even describe it... it is like the old Units (is that what they were called? They were crazy 80s fashion) but bumpy and truly made of plastic.
At $20 a pop, you should all get one in each color! Plus, you KNOW one size fits all = awesome.

*you would be amazed at the amount of artsy craftsy cutesy stuff that can actually be made out of picket fences. This fact drives BT crazy!

*want a sign that has some sort of cowboy saying on it? "don't squat with your spurs on" "Unless yur George Strait, wipe your feet" (I kid you not! That is an actual sign) ... yeah, let's hang some of those in the living room! Want a sign with some sort of cutesy saying on it? I was looking for one that said, "hula freakin' boola" but I couldn't find one. I guess I will have to get out some picket fence wood and start working on one!

*scripture is SO in... especially when embroidered on items. It isn't good enough to LET people think you go to church... let's advertise by emboidering it all over your clothing! I think it would be fun to pick some random "I will smite you" sort of scripture and have it embroidered on my purse.
hee hee.

So, Want a true taste of Texas? Come to Canton. Want a true taste of Hula Boola, come to our house!

You'll Look a Little Lovelier Each Day with Fabulous Pink Susiederk.

My slogan.
:)
or

Be Young, Have Fun, Drink Bloghead.

Makes you want to read my blog everyday doesn't it?

find your slogan at the slogan maker: http://www.thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan.cgi

Happy B-day NewAnglican...

I have been thinking about it and I can't quite remember when I officially met JRD. I know I didn't know him our freshman year of college. I was hanging in some strange circles freshman year. I do know that I got to know JRD when I started dating his roommate our sophomore year. He seemed like a nice guy and I know he had a crush on my roommate, so it was all good.
We became better friends each year after. He and the rest of the boys hung out with me only because I was A's girlfriend. I was always around and they put up with me.
Our senior year was full of chaos, breakups, and my gaining custody of the boys. We officially became the Circle of Friends and they officially became "my" boys.
I can tell you that my friend JRD became like an angel our senior year. He talked me through many a hard time. I was thankful for him. I can never explain just how much that meant to me!

So, years later, JRD and I are still friends. He just went for an interview recently for a really great job... Here are some things he should have put on his resume...or at least some reasons for you to want to get to know him!

1. He is the cleanest person I know. When he was little, he stood OUTSIDE the sand box so he wouldn't get dirty... I kid you not!
2. He has very fresh breath.... Ask his wife... he brushes his teeth like every 20 minutes!
3. He has a dry, witty sense of humor. More than once, I have snarffed a drink all over the place because he made me laugh, mid-drink.
4. He is well read and can have a conversation about just about anything!
(he really can talk about things besides the book of common prayer, I promise)
5. He is the most spiritual person I know.
6. He has a favorite font. How many other people can say that?
7. He has a very lovely wife whom I dearly love.
8. He had the coolest wedding on the planet... and I got to have a little part of it.
9. He is the one we all go to for deep talks. He is the one we lean on in times of trouble. We only hope we have done the same for him.


Happy birthday my dear friend. I wish you many many more!!!

Another Quiz...

Those of us Pirates and even some non pirates have been taking quizzes lately... What is your pirate name? How evil is your blog? (How in the world can my blog be 62% good when Hugh's blog is 78% good??? hee hee) What useless talent are you? (I was Latin) What old classic movie are you most like? ( I was the Godfather... Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday)

And those have been fun and all...
Here is a new quiz for ya. Something that came from The Message...

Love from the center of who you are; don't fake it. Run for dear life from evil;hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.
Don't burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Help the needy, be inventive in the hospitality.
Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they're happy; share tears when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck up. Make friends with nobodies; don't be the great somebody.
Don't let evil get the best of you; get the best of evil by doing good.

Romans 12:10ish...
The Message

So, how do you rate? I don't know about you but I would be getting a pretty bad score recently.
The one that really kicked me in the butt: Don't be the great somebody. How many times do I need to remind myself that? How many times do I feel the need to be the great somebody. "Hey everybody... look at me!"
I swear I need sticky notes of that one all over my office! OH and the NO cursing under your breath business... hmmm.
Geeze!
I am working hard on being a friend who loves deeply, even when I am not so fond of my enemies.
It will take time, but it will come. More practice in the Hula Boola for me.
Until then friends, how do you rate?

pamper yourself...

My nose has been in a book for the last few weeks. I haven't had time to do the fun things that I love. I haven't had a chance to hang with the knit wits, talk to and be silly with the pirates, even hang out and say goodnight to BT! Ugh, life is crazy!
So I treated myself today. I looked at my droopy hair and my sloppily painted toes (the old nail polish was aptly named "computer geek") and decided I needed something different!
So, I went between meetings and got a hair cut and some brand new cutie cute toes!
I had never had a pedicure before this summer.
What a treat they are!!! I love them! I am hooked now!
Here is wishing something small like a new hair cut or new toes will help bring some light into your day too!


p.s. I took 5 photos of my feet and none of them turned out right. They don't look that freaky in real life do they?
I will try to post photos soon of the cute toes!

Ahhh Summer! Bye old friend! I will miss you!
Now heat, go away!!!

NO BIG SHOCK HERE!!!

My pirate name is:

Captain Bess Bonney

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

I make scarves.

Yeah, you know I learned to knit this summer. It has become a great way for me to relax after a long day. It is a time killer when I am bored out of my mind, which lately hasn't been so often. And it has been a way to hang with friends. My Knit Wit group rocks.
When we get together, we have to find the comfiest chairs... so we usually go to Starbucks, although I hate coffee. What they lack in their supply of tea, certainly they make up for in the comfy chair department, so I go.
We sit and talk about stuff.
Breezy is the teenager of the group, so she usually fills us in on the life of a high schooler and we just laugh and laugh and remember the days. Tracy and I just are thankful we don't have to re-live being a teenager. We listen to music from the ipod and sing quietly. I mean, Starbucks has their share of freaks, they don't need us to add to the numbers.
We laugh and laugh till at least one of us cries. A prank call to Aaron (of The Story of Anthony) always happens. Poor Aaron! I don't know why we pick on him, but we do!
We each come with our own project to work on and we help each other out. Breezy is still learning, so she is making sample potholders. Tracy makes baby booties and kid outfits.
I love making hats, so I am usually working on one or the other, but now I am about to start working on a Polly sweater for Hugh. We love hanging with each other and being part of a group.

It all began though, our little group, with the scarves.

Let me explain. My friend Tracy hasn't been my friend for very long, so the details of this story are sketchy at most.
I will tell you the little that I know, and maybe you will understand.
Tracy was sort of a wild child in her younger days. She was in love with a boy and was dating him when he decided to move to Texas. She followed him here and then not long after, he stopped calling her. He just left.
That was the biggest gift he could have given her though because she found Steve. Steve is such a great guy! They married and not long after they were married, Tracy discovered she had ovarian cancer. It was serious.
She needed surgery and chemo stat! So it happened and these newlyweds, still glowing from the new union, had to realize rather quickly that they would not have a baby of their own. Steve had to walk every day through the nursery in the hospital, to get to his sick wife. Life creates the cruelest jokes sometimes.
Tracy has healed and now they are hopeful about adoption. They have filled out paperwork and gone though all the steps to adopt a baby from one of the Russian orphanages.
They know that at any minute, they could be called to go to Russia to pick out their baby. They also know that they must bring gifts to all of the orphanage workers. What a racket.
So, we make scarves. We make them for the workers and for the kids and for everyone Tracy needs to impress when she goes to Russia. We make scarves because we love Tracy and Steve and want them to have a gift from heaven.

The news from Russia is not good. They have stopped adoptions recently. The scarves just sit, ready for cold necks. The babies wait for parents while the government gets itself sorted out.

Until then, we will continue to knit scarves, baby blankets and little booties. We will sing and laugh and prank call Aaron. We will love each other and pray. That is the best we can do.

I literally work in a closet most of my day. I have an actual office, but I am never there. So as I sit in the closet, and as I travel between classrooms, I hear and see lots of interesting things.

Things I heard/saw today...
* The picture above is a gift from my little friend from "Nahlens". Notice the happy face? Notice the blue skies. He is healing so beautifully. :) I look forward to seeing his smiling face every day.

* ANTS!!! This morning, I discovered my closet is infested with ants. Could it be the fact that I eat lunch back there every day? hmmm... Anyway, I noticed a nice little line of ants, all going to one location, all working together. Then, there was this one ant... wandering away from the group. I thought, "You go little wandering ant!"
In life, I feel like that ant most of my life! I am either wandering away from the group because I am being defiant, or just because I don't know what the heck I am doing... Usually the latter, is the case. No matter what, I admired that little wandering ant.
I feel your pain, friend.

* Walking in the hallway, I saw a little boy peeking his head out of the bathroom. As soon as he saw me, he sang at the top of his lungs..."I feel good, na na na na na na na."
Yeah, honey, somedays after going to the bathroom, I am ready to sing that too!!

* From a substitute trying to teach safety..."If you get hit by a car, you might die, and that would be sad." uh, yathink?

* From the classroom next door, "What color IS Miss Muffett?" -isn't that up there with "what color is God"? Wouldn't we ALL like answers to that question that keeps us up nights!

* Thirty bright shining fifth grade faces tonight at the PTA meeting all singing "Lift Every Voice and Sing."
I was a slobbery, crying mess by the end of the song!

Hi. My name is Susie and I am a control freak.

they say the first step is admitting...

Say it slowly... I can do better. I don't need to take control...of everything.
I will not try to take over someone's classroom.
I will not make teachers cry.
I will be nice and represent the Hula
Boola to the best of my ability.

Scars...


Ok, here is a newsflash. I am not the most graceful person on the planet.
I try not to wear white shirts any more since every white shirt I own these days has some sort of stain on it.
I run into things, too, all the time as a matter of fact. I am considering a big padded bumper for the foot of the bed.
Hey, what's that bruise on your leg? Oh, the one that is the same height as the bed? Well, the corner of the bed moved in the middle of the night and attacked me.
So, this summer, on the mission trip, we did some climbing. Not huge mountain climbing mind you, just some treading on slickish rocks. So, surprise surprise, I fell.
I can actually hark back to the scene. I was trying hard to walk as carefully as I could, but something happened. My footing was off and I slipped. I didn't fall far, but I fell hard. My camera came crashing down on the rock and so did my butt and my right arm. All got bruised pretty badly.
Soon enough, I got bandaged, on flat land, and chastised by a bunch of teenagers for being so clumsy. Nothing like being chastised by teenagers to make you feel old and stupid. Oh and thank goodness this happened at the beginning of the mission trip so I could hear about it all week! What great fun that was!

So, three months later, the bruise on my butt has healed but the scar on my arm from the fall is still there.
I have been looking at that scar recently. I could get some "stuff" and make it heal, or I could leave it there. It is sort of a battle scar for me. A memory of sorts.
It becomes a division of time, in a sense. Did you know me before or after I met B? Before or after I moved to Indiana? Before or after the scar? See? It is a mark in time.

Today is September 11th... another passage of time. Everyone always says, "Where were you when you heard the news? Do you remember what you were doing?"
I remember I was giving my first graders a test and wondering if my husband and pen pal were all right.
September 11th changed our lives. It changed our world in so many ways. It made us angry. It made us stop trusting. It made us realize that we were vulnerable to our enemies. It also created heroes of great proportions.

Katrina is similar... life will be different now. Because of Katrina, people are living in churches, at homeless shelters, in major sports arenas. I know that Katrina has changed lives and has totally taken away more than I can imagine. Our schools are full and the town seems to be busting at the seams with so many bodies. Like I said before, Texas has opened up it's Big Tex sized arms and said, "Come on in y'all! Pass the fajitas!"
But that is the greatest part! I think it has given us hope. It has made us gain faith, and forced us to become the face of God to strangers. It is making us love, accept and grow. It is making us work together and wrap our loving arms around each other and heal each other.

My arm won't ever be the same again after that fall. I am convinced of that. Neither will we as people be the same again. Hopefully, because of this, we will learn, grow, and open up our hearts to each other like never before. We will mark our lives by those scars.... and we will be better for them.

Annie... Pet Art from Hugh...






More Art... this time from Hugh... Man Genius... and BESTEST of all!!!
Isn't this awesome????
:) He rocks!!!

just some art given to me recently from the Boy Genius.
:)
I love that little man!

My MOM...

There is no other way to put it... my mom is.... EXTRAVAGANT.
I had to check the spelling twice by the way!
My mom is so awesome and since today is her birthday, I thought I would create a little ode to her.

My mom and I have been pals for a long long time. My poor dad sometimes feels slighted, knowing that when I call the house, it is really to talk to mom and he becomes the middleman in the process.
My mom is incredibly intelligent. She gave me my love of books and my thirst for knowledge.
She reads entire encyclopedias for goodness sakes!

Me: Hey mom, what are you doing?
Mom: Oh, nothing much, just reading.
Me: Really, something new and cool?
Mom: oh yeah it is cool but not so new...
I am reading all of the Ms in the World Book.
It is great!

Yeah, that is a real conversation I would have with my mom.

She was a speech and drama teacher for years and years so who can even wonder where I got my sense of style? I wear the tap shoes and she wears the medieval capes.
Then, she became an elementary principal. Let me tell you, that was a shocker... going from attitudinal high school kids to kindergarteners that pee all over the place! But she did it in style. I never worked for her, but I have a feeling I would have liked her as a principal. She knew that what was important was teaching kids. She did everything in her power to make sure that happened.

Then, she retired and spends her time making quilts, playing with her crazy cat, teaching adults how to read, and singing in the church choir, and organizing her things. Yeah, she is a Virgo... we forgive her if her cans are organized by color in her pantry and her spices are alphabetical. We love her anyway.

But I think the most incredible thing about my mom is how great she did with me. As busy as she was with speech tournaments and play competitions, and teacher crap, she never never never made me feel unimportant. She always worked really hard to make me feel special, loved, and important. And she works really hard to do that with everyone she meets.

So, this is my turn to make her feel that same way. I don't tell her enough just how awesome she is...
So mom... here is your zoom song, and know just how EXTRAGAVANT you really are!!!
(Yeah, I know it is spelled wrong!)

I love you!

Scrapbooks...

I love me a road trip in the springtime. Everything smells fresh and clean and the wind can flow through your hair as you speed down the highway admiring the bluebonnets. But it isn't spring. It is still considered summer here in Texas and it is hot. H...O...T hot.
So a road trip wasn't really on my to-do list this weekend but since my mom's birthday is coming up soon, we decided to take advantage of the days off to go see her. (yeah for mom!!! b-day post coming soon!!!)
Another purpose for the trip was to sort through boxes of my crap that my parents don't feel like storing any longer for me.
They figure I have my own garage. I can store my own stuff.
Ugh. Close minded thinking!
hee hee.
So, I went through photo albums and scrapbooks, from eighth grade all the way to college. At first, I was ready to pitch them all... put them all in the trash. But no one would let me.
"One day," they said, "you will want that stuff, you will want your memories." I don't think so, but I kept them anyway.
I looked through those books a bit and laughed and remembered great times. I remembered crappy times and got angry all over again.
Now I know why I don't scrapbook any more.

I looked at those books and thought about the people in my life who had come and gone. The pages of the scrapbooks filled with friends who took up my heart those days.
How silly I was and how stupid.

I went to church with my mom on Sunday. They are in the middle of a minister search so for now, they do with "fill ins" from around the area. I knew this visiting minister well. We had staffed Cursillo together. We had talked about Austin College (go roos!) and had laughed. I was excited to see him there, but knowing that he is an older man and knows lots and lots of people, I didn't figure he would remember me.
The service began and it was order as usual... a little singing here, a little praying there. Then it happened. Jack, the minister got up and before he read the scripture, he stopped and scanned the room... he looked directly at me and I smiled. He got bright red and smiled a huge smile back. Then, this 70+ age old man did the funniest thing. He sheepishly waved at me. Like the first graders do to me in the hall when they want to say hello but don't want to get in trouble by their teacher. It was cute. I sheepishly waved back and he began the reading of the scripture.

At the passing of the peace though, I was surprised to see him right at my side to give me a big hug. He didn't know my name, I knew, but he knew my face. I was a friendly face among the strangers.
I realized as soon as he looked at me that I had been placed into his emotional/mental scrapbook. I was sure glad to have been placed there!

I used to think my scrapbook was full...overflowing with friends, people I know who have shaped my life and have an imprint into my future. I didn't think there were any more pages available. I didn't think there was room in my heart for any more love. Boy was I wrong.
So, to my mom and dad, my BT and Annie, the CoF, Ging and Miles man...boy genius, the Knit Wits, the Westminster Youth Connection, Cursillistas, my Renewal Group, and my newly added, Pirates of Penance... thanks for the ride.
Thanks for filling my scrapbook even more. For you, I am truly thankful.

Hugh's Birthday!!! Yeah!!!!


So, my man Hugh is 44 today! Wow! What an amazing thing! And how many amazing things has he done in those short 44 years? I would love to sit on the back porch of my house with him and talk for hours!!! I would love that! Oh the things I would learn! He is my hero.
I imagine he is sitting in his apartment celebrating that birthday. Just for today, he is wearing his Hughman Super Hero cape, eating homemade cookies and drinking the Hughman superhero elixir of life... (With an umbrella of course).
He might have even risked giving away his mild mannered alter ego by marching himself to the dog park in that same cape.
You never know with that Hugh. And hiding underneath the superhero cape, you are sure to find a pirate tattoo of some sort, I just know it! ARRGGG!
If you don't know Hugh, you should. We all should.
He is one of the best writers I know. He can make you laugh, cry, and think so hard your head hurts, all in one blog. He has a way of looking at the world that I love.

Hugh is a teenager trapped in a 44 year old body that is for sure!
He is the class clown in the chat room. (I am certainly the most serious one there.)
He can also channel a teenage girl in no time flat. Hugh also knows all the cool kid popular culture references, and even is daring enough to make up his own.... Hula Boola... totes brill for sure!
Hugh is so cool, his favorite color is black... who else is cool enough to say that?... oh, and lime green! Now that is coolness personified!!! Hugh is so cool that his favorite food is not the normal, "Mexican, Italian" crap. Oh no. That Hugh loves him some sushi.
The best thing about Hugh is his enormous heart! It is brimming with love for everyone he meets, and lots he may never meet.
So, I have asked Hugh lots of questions lately, and he has kindly put up with them all... but I have a few more questions for him in the form of a song that I heard today... (I couldn't help but think of him!)
Lyrics have been changed a bit to fit... please forgive me!

To be that good, it must be taxin’
No such thing as satisfaction
You’re makin’ things happen while I’m relaxin’
Like a Sunday afternoon
My dad used to tell me I was lazy
I got dance moves like Patrick Swayze
I’m the left over turkey for the world’s mayonnaisey
The star next to the moon

Now I know I’m just here to amuse you
And I don’t mean to abuse you
But if I could just use you one time

Tell me what it’s like
To be the queen of it all
The Neiman Marcus of the Mall
And tell me what it’s like to be the one and only
All American Hugh


Every now and then I get to the kneelin’
To thank him for it all
But you probably got some inside connection
So many numbers that you gotta rolodex them
So much muscle that you never gotta flex them
To catch you when you fall

And I know I’m just here to amuse you
And I don’t mean to confuse you
But if I could just use you one more time

Tell me what it’s like to be the house on the hill
The number one diet pill
And tell me what it’s like to be the one and only
All American Hugh


And I know you’re not here to amuse me
But you sure know how to confuse me
So if I could just ask you once again

To tell me what it’s like to be a star on the rise
A breakfast cereal prize
And tell me what it’s like to be the one and only
All American Hugh
The All American Hugh
The all amazing crazy Hugh...



The thing is, Hughman IS the all American. He is the breakfast cereal prize...the bee's knees, THE HULA BOOLA!!!
I love you Hughman! Happy birthday!
Here is your zoom song.

The president of your fan club...
Susiederk.

:)

it is almost midnight my time, which means it is almost Hugh's b-day!
Look for a blog to take this space very soon...
my ode to the hughman.
Susie

The kids are coming in... The rains may have washed them out of Louisiana and Mississippi, but Texas has wrapped its big texas size arms around them and said, come on! We will teach your children. We will love them and support them as we do our own. So they came today. By the dozens into our classrooms. All with parents who said the same exact words, "we lost everything... Please take care of my child." And we did. And will will continue to...


I guess that is the best I can do right now for the world...

Just Stuff.....

I guess about six years ago, the Circle of Friends were all gathered in Mullin, Texas for our annual New Years Eve gathering. We spent some time doing the usual heart-felt but cheesy toasts, to one another, to friends far away, to... blah blah blah. Then the question came up..."what was the best thing about this past year?" As we went around the table, lots of things were mentioned... new cars, new computers, new stuff. Then it was BT (the older and wiser member of the CoF) who spoke up and said, "you know, all of those things that you mentioned, the computer, the car... they are all great things... but they are just stuff. We need to spend time thinking about our year and whom we loved and how we touched other people's lives. Stuff comes and goes, but our friendships, that is what really matters in the world." Boy, were we feeling stupid.


Tonight, I came home griping about the master’s class I enrolled in. I griped about people I work with, I griped about my headache and my hungry belly and the coming of a head cold. I griped and griped and griped, and then I turned on CNN. I sat and stared at the devastation of it all. How stupid had I just been? I got to come home to medicine, a warm bed, the smell of cooking food, a roof over my head, and most importantly, my husband who loves me and listens to me gripe about my petty crap.
I watched the news and realized it wasn't just the "stuff" that people were worried about...it was their relationships with others. It was their family members and their friends. It was the important things that they worried about. And it made me feel sick to my stomach.
I pray tonight for forgiveness for being so petty in time of crisis. I pray for the people who have been affected by Katrina. I pray that they will find comfort with friends and family, as they sort through the "stuff" of their lives. I pray that we can all gain perspective, just like BT tried to impart that New Years Eve. I pray that those precious children of God will be able to rebuild and gain strength and hope. I just pray. I hope you will too.

Another Birthday... These never end!!!

Seems like when I started this, I didn't realize what I was getting myself into. EVERYONE I know has a birthday coming up. This birthday thing may last a while friends. Bear with me.

I was telling someone the other day that this past year, I have managed to get to know three people who are going to seminary, and like about a million ministers. I need to be hanging out in seedier places for sure! So, I have learned something from all of this... ministers are people too. They have issues just like the rest of us.
They have bad days and days when they are tired and grumpy and frustrated with the world. They worry about finances and jobs and the world just as much as the rest of us.
Some days are good and they love their jobs. Other days, they would like to scream, curse and run away as fast as they can. hmmm. Sound familiar?

So, this person who is celebrating a birthday on Friday is someone I only know through chat and her blog, but she is someone who has made me really realize that preachers are people too.
You need to meet her... I promise you would like her. Her name is rev stacey and she has a blog here...

Ok, Stacey is a first year minister and she is still in her 20s. She lives in New York somewhere in the boonies... too far away from civilization to be able to order pizza delivery. She lives with an enormous, I mean gigantic dog. She is going through life one day at a time in her job. She loves it some days, hates it other days, but mostly, I think she is just trying to get by... and listen to God the best way she knows how. I think she is worth getting to know. I know that in the real world, in real life, she and I could be friends... or else she might sick that gigantic dog on me!!!

Stacey, here is your zoom song... enjoy!

I HEART BOOKS!!!


Rev Stacey has kindly added me to her list of links. Trust me friends, if I had a clue how to add links, I would be adding all kinds of people. :)
She also tagged me with this little questionaire about myself. Considering the fact that I write about myself all the time, this shouldn't be a stretch, but it really was!

1. Number of books owned: uh, millions? billions? mostly children's picture books which I love. My mom is to blame for my love of books. Amazon thanks you too, mom...

2. Last book bought: David Sedaris audiobook. This thing cracks me up! Also Stichin' Bitch, the knitter's guide.

3. Last book completed: Uh this is a hard one. As a reading teacher, I don't actually read. Well, I read lots of kid's books, but nothing substantial. I have about 6 or so books that I am in the middle of.. I guess Harry Potter #7 I actually finished....wow! Go me!!!

4. Five or more books that mean a lot to me:
Real live Preacher.com is the best! I refer to the stories all the time!
World According to Chuck, because it is also great writing and he signed it for me! Love that!
Any of the Mitford Series. I love that little minister man.
Reading Recovery guidebook... it is my Reading teacher bible.
About the Author... a great guide for teaching writing in the K-1 classroom.
Who's Mouse are you? my favorite book of childhood. Lots of great memories in that book!

5. Four bloggers I am passing this on to...
my friend Jay... so he can write about himself and not about the book of common prayer.
My BFF ginger... she is a fantastic writer... this will force her to do some writing.
My friend David Mahfood... because no matter what, he is a deep thinker and he can turn this whole quick question thing into a study on religion for sure.
Paula...because even though I just met her, we are soul sisters for sure.

Another Birthday Zoom Song...

please scroll down and read about the zoom song before reading this.
Annie...

There is Annie hiding in the monument to slactitude...

Well, the vet told us August was when Annie must have been born, so I figured I would write a little birthday zoom message to her as well...
The school I worked in when I first met Annie was quite old and had some really strange classrooms. The only doors to the rooms were from the outside. Hallways were for wimps.
I arrived at work, early as usual, and noticed several kids outside messing with something in the bushes. Now, as a teacher, the sight of several third and fourth grade boys messing with something in the bushes is, as a rule, never a good thing.
So, I got ready to face the chaos and went over to talk to them.
There in the tree was the tiniest little kitten ever! She was full of fleas and as thin as she could be. She was so tiny she could actually fit in the palm of my hand. I took her away from the mean older boys and took her inside the school. What was I going to do with this little thing? I couldn't leave her out there for more kids to come up and torture. I had to do something. Luckily, we had a little atrium in our school where she could go and we could keep her safe during the day. But then, what would we do with her after school was over?
I felt responsible! I had found this little thing! I was going to have to take her home. I made the call home and prepared for the worst. Here I was, the cat person, calling the dog person in the family, to break the news that we would be having a cat come live with us. Needless to say, BT was not pleased. But he did go to the store and purchase all the needed supplies for her to live comfortably at our house.
On the drive home, she slept in a box the entire time. I was so worried she was sick... I just knew she wouldn't make it.
As soon as we arrived home, BT made her a bath and gave her medicine for the fleas. She didn't move or fight when we put her into the water. We fed her, we loved her, and we watched fleas jump for their lives to avoid the medicine on her body. Neither one of us thought she would make it.
She was that sick. But something happened because once the fleas were gone and she got some good food in her, she was like a different kitten. She was running all over the house jumping and playing and being silly. She became our cat from that moment on!
That first Christmas when BT was gone the whole month of December, Annie and I became best friends. She slept on his side of the bed and looked after me as much as she could. She and I bonded. She was sure not happy when BT came back home! Her side of the bed was being taken over again. When she was little, she slept so that her body was leaned against my heart. I loved that.
Annie is no longer the teeny tiny little kitten with huge bat ears. She is big and fat and lazy and takes up half the bed, but she still sleeps right at my heart... right where she belongs.

Birthdays and the Zoom Song...

When I was little, my parents bought me one of those super cool floppy 45 records, that played the coolest song I know.
It was MY song. It had MY name in it and it was about some space captain named Zoom who was flying through space just to wish me a happy happy birthday.
I think I played it like a million times. Especially on my birthday of course!
Once I got to high school, I was too cool for such childish things and that floppy record went away.
Then college came and my friend Julie had that same record. This time, Zoom was talking to her... it had her name in it.
Once I got over the initial shock of not hearing MY name...(what??? Zoom sings to everyone???) I grew to like that silly song again. Now, whenever someone in my family has a birthday, we call each other up and sing the zoom song to them!
Unfortunately, I am way too lazy to actually buy the actual CD, so I don't know all of the words...only the ones posted in the little snippet on the internet. So, thankfully it is usually pretty short when sung.
I got to realizing last night that lots of significant people's birthdays are coming up or had just recently passed. Since they might find me calling them in the middle of the night singing the Zoom song a bit odd... I think I will do this instead...
Here is some info about people I know and love, who's birthdays are coming up or have just passed, and why you would like them too...

Consider it a cooler version of the zoom song...

Meet My DAD...
Maynard...yep, that's his name... that's what I call him anyway. NO one else calls him that but me.
His birthday was in June and I didn't get to see him on his birthday. He has the unfortunate luck of having his birthday before or on father's day every year. But, I guess that means more gifts for him.
My dad is the oldest of three kids, so that comes with lots of responsibilities. He has a great way of calming the waters when things are tense or crazy with his brother and sister. He also has the job of taking care of my grandfather, which is a full time job sometimes. He is so kind and sweet with my grandfather. You should see him! As much as my grandfather drives us all crazy, my dad is so patient and kind and willing to help him.
My dad is an incredibly smart guy. Although it was never diagnosed, I swear my dad has ADD and Dyslexia. He thought he was dumb in school because he had such a hard time reading. That didn't keep him from doing what he loved though. He became a teacher, and a principal and eventually retired as the Director of Fine Arts for the school district. Not too shabby for a guy with some reading problems. He is one reason I do what I do now... teach struggling readers. My dad didn't have it easy in school. He didn't have someone to focus him and help him when he struggled.
My dad is a great speaker. He loves to tell stories. You should see his face light up when he starts to tell stories. Some stories are not necessarily even close to the truth, which I guess helps since he is a fisherman and a golfer. :)
I can remember fondly walking down the dirt road with my dad, hand in hand. His big hand engulfing my little one. I remember looking at those two hands and knowing that he would always take care of me. Always.
My dad is a pretty great guy. He has a heart of gold and he means well. He would do anything for anyone and I love him a lot!!

There's your zoom song dad!!!



Ginger

I almost forgot Ginger's birthday since it was the beginning of August and I got involved in getting myself ready to go back to work! I meant to call her on her birthday too and force the Zoom song on her, but I don't know what happened. I suck.
So hope this helps...
Ginger and I met in college. We weren't really friends though until senior year when she moved in across the hall from me in the dorm. We hit it off and became pretty good friends, but not what I would consider close. She was part of the Circle of Friends though, so we were at things together. I fondly remember spring break of our senior year when we decided to rebel and not go home. We stayed with the boys instead and hung out at their apartment. I can remember being shocked when she washed her bra and hung it up in the boy's bathroom for all to see. I don't know why that really shocked me so much at the time. What a prude I was back then!
Ginger and I have become really close friends within the past ummm... 4 years now? She moved to Texas and I fell in love with her little red headed son. He is my bestest friend on the planet. If they didn't live 2 hours away, I would see that little Miles man every weekend! I love him so much!
Ginger is a fantastic writer. She is the kind of writer I want to be like when I grow up. She can take words and use them to make something that was ugly into something totally beautiful. She has a gift for that. A knack! She is my fashion guide and help. "Ging, I am going to some semi formal thing... what the hell does semi formal mean these days??? I am a teacher! I wear khakis on a regular basis!"
Ging calms me down and talks me through my fashion issues. She is also my positive influence. She is always looking on the bright side of things, when I want to just scream and yell and throw a temper tantrum, she is always there with a positive comment.
She and I have exchanged official BFF necklaces... the one with the half of the heart. Not really, but I know that if I ever needed her, she would be there... and I hope she would feel/say the same thing about me!!!

KNIT HAPPENS...

I taught myself to knit this summer. It wasn't hard, it wasn't time consuming, and it was fun to learn. Really, thinking back on it, I have no idea why I decided this would be a good hobby for me.
I am a crafty person to a certain extent. I stink at sewing, so any sort of project like that is out. I used to scrapbook, then I ran out of patience, and space. I used to create things with polymer clay. Yeah, other than the nativity scene I made out of that clay, there were very few useful things I actually made. They were all cute and lovely, but sort of silly and not of any worth or value. Then, I moved on to jewelry making. That was the cool kid craft at the time and I loved picking out really pretty glass beads and things. Problem was, I never officially learned how to make jewelry, and sort of made it up as I went along, so my bracelets always seemed to fall apart at the most inopportune times... in the middle of a friend's wedding for instance. So, I sucked at jewelry making, pretty much.
Then I got a new computer and realized that I could make movies! Oh, fun! I took all of the old movies of our annual New Years Eve events, edited out all of the stupid things I did, accentuated all the crazy things my college friends did, and created our own little "Best of" movies. Those were pretty cool. I still watch the trailer I made for them when I am in need of a hearty laugh. I still like making movies and already have two more movies to work on this year.
But, it is not something a person could do everyday as a hobby.
So, I needed to find a good use for my ADD and my hands. So, I picked knitting.
The funny thing is, it turned out to be less of a hobby and more of a study in people once I got into it.
I realized that there is an unspoken knitter's club. We have a secret handshake and password.
Once, I was staring at the needles in the middle of Hobby Lobby one day when I noticed a lady, in her 50s or so walking down the isle. I don't know what in the world compelled me to stop her and ask questions, but I did.
She was so nice and so helpful. I was instantly joined into the fold of knitters. She told me secrets and plans for taking over the world with knitting... I would tell you but ...
No really, she taught me all kinds of things! And by the end of the time, this once perfect stranger had given me her phone number and hugged me as she walked away. That was when I knew I was IN, baby!

Once you say, "I'm a knitter. I can purl and everything," you are an official card carrying member of the club. So, I thought I was pretty cool. I became a knitter... the hipster of the crafting world. :)
Then I made the mistake of telling my friends. I should have known that those you love would take things the hardest...

"Hey, when we go to the lake for the fourth, I am going to take some knitting. Want me to knit you a beer koozie? I just learned how to make them! What color you want me to bring?"
My friends were dumbfounded...
I might as well have told them I was putting myself in an old-folks home. Suddenly, in their eyes, I became like a million years old, the grandma from Loony Toons sitting in her rocker knitting. And I guess they thought I was kidding... because when I showed up at the lake with my little knitting bag and a blue knitted beer koozie just for them, they were all freaked out.
"OH, you really DO knit. You weren't kidding about that." Those were actual words from a few people.
I wanted to say, "NO, I really don't knit. I was just kidding. This bag, these needles, they are all a big plot to trick you...I guess it worked... ha ha to you!"
Ugh.
I have learned from that, that I need to not spring the news of my knitting all at once, but do it gradually. I have begun sneaking my knitting out of my bag during several occasions just to "feel the waters". You never know how people will take the news... but a big part of me wants to announce to the world... KNIT HAPPENS... Deal with it....you might get a nice scarf out of the deal.

It's a small world after all.

Yeah, I know... silly phrase makes you imagine those scary Disney dolls all singing and dancing in their syrupy sweet robotic, Stepford Children sort of way... sorry. Erase that image from your mind please and bear with me here...

Let's hark back shall we? (wavy screen) To a time about 9 years or so ago. The internet still had that "new car" smell and the world was not as harsh back then. Those were the good old days when kids could run out and play on the information superhighway unharmed. Back when, yes there was always porn, but it wasn't on every world wide web street corner.
When surfers were innocent. Back then... it was different.
My computer geek friends were scattered in all regions going to Grad school and I was in El Paso and I was bored... really bored and lonely, trying to find my place in the world, and missing them. So they patiently taught me about the world of chatting. They taught me to LOL and to ROFL. They taught me BTW, BRB, and even WTF (mom, don't ask about that one) and it was there that we caught up with each other's lives. I loved chatting. It was my way of reaching a big hand out and giving my college friends a hug. It was my way, as the only girl of the group, to keep tabs on those boys. It was new, fun, and exciting. I loved it.
And then I got hooked! I was chatting all the time. I was chatting the day the bomb went off in Oklahoma. I got to hear first hand what happened there and what it looked like, from chatters who were there. Made me feel like I was there too, feeling the pain, experiencing the horror right along side them.
And boy did I play with my "handle", my user name... we all did. LT would be Calvin, or Spaceman Spiff, or one of the other Calvin and Hobbs characters and so I settled pretty well on Susiederk... for Susie Derkins of course... nemesis to Calvin. LT would bug me and I would just shake my head and think, what a strange kid that one is... so it fit.
I was Susiederk. It was settled.

Then one day, as we chatted, some mysterious person came into our little chat room. His "handle" was BT224... and he seemed kind of nice. He was funny! That was what attracted me to him. He was funny!
He and I had the same sense of humor and we got along great.
We talked every night, like clockwork. Poor thing, he was working a crazy shift at work and would get 3 or 4 hours sleep a night just because he wanted to talk to me instead of sleep. He was a crazy man.
We talked about everything under the sun. We got to know each other... better than any couple would if they were going to the movies or dinner on dates. We became best friends. And I knew, I really knew that I loved him. He was THE ONE.
And he still is.
Ahhh. the world of chat.

And once we got together in real life, we didn't really need chat. We tried chatting again later on, but it wasn't the same. The place and people weren't the same. It was a different place. Those times, they were a'changin'.
And we hadn't really gone back to chat much since then... till now.

Oh that RLP! He challenges us all the time doesn't he? He changes things on us all the time.
RLP now has a chat section. It is pretty fun. I do it every once in a while...
Who I am I kidding? I am hooked! So is BT although I am sure he would never admit it.
I don't know if it is because it reminds us of the "good old days" of chat or what, but it is great.
We were just talking a few minutes ago about how it feels like a little family in the room. Everyone belongs and everyone has something valuable to input... well MOST anyway. And I have made such great friends! I think fondly about people in that room and would consider them a friend. I hope they would think the same about me.

So, if you are thinking of joining the RLP chat, here are some hints to help you make the choice...

Things you need to know:
1. Don't consider in any way that it is all religion all the time. It is not. As a matter of fact, when some people are in there it is just chaos. Trashing the place out and stuff. It is nuts.
2. There is a crazy Jetson's game going on there. You may join if you wish but you may NOT use the following characters... dj, or elroy. Those are saved for the creators of the game.
3. Hugh cheats. He is a cheater who likes to make up his own rules. Deal with it. You will be happier for it.
4. rlp will show up every once in a while. When he does, always say, "look busy"... he likes it.
Also, don't expect that he will want to talk about religion. He is a real person too. He wants to make up crazy games and be silly just like us. He also doesn't ever stay very long. Deal with it.
5. Be prepared to meet famous people... and realize because they are famous, they like to make up their own rules to things... (see also #3) Appeals for autographs are accepted but not always granted.
6. Realize that the later it is, the crazier it gets in the chat room.
7. Know that there is no age limit to chatting. Some people chatting are kids. Watch your language please.
8. Understand that I am the one and only president of the Hugh fan club... THE saint of the HULA BOOLA... do not try to take my title. I will wrestle you to the ground. It won't be pretty.
9. Don't do it if you can't take the pressure. :) We mess with each other a lot in there. If you are thin skinned, stay home, sissy.
10. While David and JoKer are chatting, don’t even bring up the words church, religion, orthopraxy. You will get a big lecture on the history of the church thus far with charts and graphs and everything! Danger, Will Robinson. Avoid Avoid… unless you are into that thing.
So, now that you have the cool kid's inside scoop... go at your own risk.
Enjoy the ride!!!
:)

Just a quick note...
There is a big possibility that The Story of Anthony will be published...
in a real live magazine!
Presbyterian Today is sending me contracts to sign and everything!
Wow!
I will keep you posted!

Ode to a new school year...

Don't you just LOVE the smell of brand new crayons? I love to just open the box and sniff. I am sure to the outside world, I look like I am snorting something else, but I love new crayon smell.
I also love the look of new school clothes. They rock! Freshly pressed, not yet stained from the latest lunch special.
I can remember trying them on like a million times before the first day of school. I even did fashion shows for my dad. I would model them around the house like I was so cool. I am sure my dad was thinking, "yeah, whatever... that's a pink skirt...woohoo" but I thought I was the coolest!
And don't even get my started on the new backpack...pencils, erasers, and such. Oh and the big chief notepad. If you are too young to remember the big chief notepad, you are really missing out! That thing always made me feel so grown up, walking in with my new pink skirt, my freshly sniffed crayons, and my big chief notepad. I was the bomb baby!
I think that is why I am a sucker even now for the school supply section of major department stores.

And thinking back, I can remember just how excited, but tremendously nervous I was to be there that first day. My mom worked in the school district, I knew all the teachers and they knew me... but I would still pray that the first day of school I wouldn't have to speak, for fear of my newly eaten breakfast being tossed as soon as I opened my mouth!
There is nothing like that feeling on the first day of school. Nothing...
So, let's raise a glass of Kool-aid to the kids...the ones who are headed to school this next week and those unfortunate souls who have already begun.
You, my friends, are fearfully and wonderfully made by God. Remember that! Learn a lot because you are our future and really, our present.
Don't let us down... and sniff a few crayons, just for the heck of it!

I just spent hours chatting with some friends tonight (B was watching football which is code for napping on the couch) ... blog friends, but friends.
We talked about writing and how no matter what, we all just need to write. Crap or not, just write.
So, I am going to really work harder at writing.
Funny how as a teacher of writing, I don't do enough writing on my own.
My goal this year is to change that.
So, let's try this out.
:)
special thanks to Hugh. I meant it when I said I was official queen of your fan club!
N

The story of Anthony

You could tell just by looking at him he had had a hard life. He was weathered and worn and dirty. He was street smart and rough. And he certainly wasn't sure what was going on at his house when we, the adults and youth of Westminster Presbyterian Church showed up that day. He knew though, that he didn't need any help. He knew that and told us that for sure, several times.
As we began work, we watched him kick the dog and curse it out. That was the beginning of our introduction to Anthony and his use of language. As we got to know him, we also realized that he had quite the vocabulary. He would let all sorts of words fly. He was no stranger to shit, or damn, ass, or hell. He had no embarrassment about using these words around us. It was as if those were things every person said on a daily basis.
"Do you get to cuss?" he asked one of the kids from our youth group... "my grandma let's me cuss." And yeah, we were no strangers to those words, but never coming out of a four year old mouth. Yes my friends, Anthony is four years old.

You see, God chose our little group of youth to work on several houses in Ruidoso Downs, New Mexico. We went to the Garcia house where we painted and helped repair windows and doors. We met twin boys there named Jesse and James and their cousin named Jasmine. We got to know these kids and love them, but our attachment to Anthony was quite different.

Anthony lived with his Grandma and Grandpa and his 10 year old aunt and his little sister. We think his mom lived there too although I don't think any of us saw her. Dad was in jail and according to people who knew, he was a bad bad man and would be there for a long time. Anthony was in need of serious male role models in his little four year old life, so it was no surprise that he attached himself instantly to 14 year old Aaron.
Anthony became Aaron's shadow, working hard to convince Aaron to quit doing that work on the house, "leave it to the girls to do," and come play with him. He wanted Aaron to ride bikes with him and skateboard with him and talk about boy stuff with him.
He was Aaron's buddy. And Aaron was so good with Anthony. So sweet, so kind, so giving, so understanding. And they worked together pretty well. When Aaron got breaks from work, he could be seen adjusting Anthony's bike seat, or talking to him about not hitting the dog, or other people.
Before we left that Wednesday, Anthony had invited Aaron to spend the night with him. When Aaron kindly declined saying that he was going to have to go out to dinner with the group, Anthony invited the whole group over to dinner and to spend the night saying, "I got crackers. You guys can eat dinner here."
The next day, we were ready for work once more and there was Anthony ready for us to be there.
He was still in yesterday's outfit and as dirty as ever. He followed Patrick and Aaron around like they were movie stars.
He was there to hold nails and move things that were in their way. He liked Patrick, but Aaron had really become his best pal.
That Thursday, Cathy, the minister from First Presbyterian Church Ruidoso came to check on us. Anthony was sitting on a roll of wire inspecting our work and she sat on the hard, hot dirt to talk to him. She asked him if he knew why we were there. He didn't. She said that these kids and grown ups had been sent to his house to help him and his family. "We don't need no help," was his answer.
She said that these people came all the way from Texas to make his house better because they had been told to come by God. God, she explained, had brought us there. She then told him that whenever he needed help, no matter when, all he had to do was find a steeple. She drew one in the sand, and told him that he needed to look for a cross on the top. Whenever he needed help, was hungry, or didn't feel safe, he needed to find a place with a cross and a steeple and he just needed to walk in the door and say, "My name is Anthony and I know you will help me". She told him her church was the one right across from McDonalds but he didn't have to go there... He could go to any church and say that.
"My name is Anthony and I know you will help me."

At the end of our day, the last day of work there, we tried to prepare Anthony. We wanted him to understand that we, (most importantly, Aaron,) weren't coming back. As much as we tried, it was impossible to reason with that four year old mind. It was impossible for him not to feel like one more person was leaving him and his life. As Aaron said goodbye, Anthony kicked him, punched him, and angrily said, "Go then. Go away." But as we were packing up and walking back to the van, he ran up to Aaron and quietly said, "Could I hide in the back of the van and go with you?"


That evening, we were blessed by a concert at the church from California Baptist University. At one point in the evening, they looked at our youth kids, sitting in the front row and said, "so, we hear you are from Texas... what are you doing in New Mexico?"
Cathy then stood up and told the congregation about the community action project and how we had come on our mission trip to fix homes that would have been condemned. She praised our kids for their hard work and then said, "but tonight, we need to lift some big prayers up for Anthony. Anthony adopted this group and they adopted him this week and he needs some big prayers."
She handed the microphone back to the college choir expecting them to begin a prayer but they didn't pray. Instead, the leader of the group said, "we could pray for Anthony, but we don't know him very well. We think you guys should do the prayer," and handed the microphone without hesitation directly to Aaron.

Sweet sweet Aaron stood up and started in his teenager voice, the best prayer I have ever heard. It was a true conversation with God about Anthony and how much he needs His help in the world. At that very moment, I was so proud to know Aaron and so honored to have met brave, courageous Anthony and to have been a part of letting him know that he is a precious child of God.

New Random Thoughts...

I am a big drinker.
Although my New Years friends might disagree with me, I am not talking about being an alcoholic. I am not announcing to the world that I need to go to AA... it is not that sort of deal.
I love to drink things. I think I love to drink things more than eat.
It used to be Cokes. I just couldn't get enough of those full powered things with all of the caffeine, all of the sugar, all of the kick.
Then, I went on South Beach and sort of lost my taste for real Cokes.
Not like I won't drink one every once in a while, but not all the time like I did before.
During the summer, it was Iced Tea all the way, baby. That Mr. Coffee tea maker was working overtime on me.
Now, Dr. Pepper is the key... that new Diet Cherry Vanilla is my drink of choice lately.
Yummy.
And oh Sonic.
Let's all just sit a minute and reflect on the greatness of Sonic.
(I am a true believer in the idea that Sonic should just stop their food selling all together and just focus on their cool drinks and ice cream treats. Why do they even bother with the nasty grease fest they call food?
Yuck.)
What is it about Sonic that just gets me?
The ice maybe, I don't know a single person who has opposition to the ice... and I know lots of people who have opposition to lots of random things... LT, you know who you are.
Maybe it is the size of the drink, the cool cup, and the fact that when you order the route 44, they bring out an actual bucket of tasty goodness.
Oh, just a trip down memory lane here, I can remember when I was first introduced to the greatness of Sonic drinks back in Alpine, Texas when I was about 9 or 10, they sold these fountain drinks in actual half gallon milk carton sort of containers. The BEST!
oh, I digress...
Whatever it is about Sonic, I love them. I actually get up a little early on Fridays, get cash if need-be that week, just so I can treat myself to the Sonic drink in the morning...lasts me all day!
So, needless to say with all of the drinking going on in my neck of the woods, I have to pee quite a lot.
Like, all the time.
B says I have kidneys the size of LeSueur Peas. (They are the best you know...)
Hmm.
I don't know about that, but I do know that I have seen my share of bathrooms.
Bathrooms really fascinate me.
I dig them.
You can tell a lot about a place by its bathroom.
The absolute coolest bathroom I ever saw was in San Francisco, California inside an Italian food joint.
The restaurant itself was just the coolest... lots of pictures of the rat pack, very low lighting, no menu, just a list of food on the chalkboard... I was expecting to see the Sopranos hanging out there, doing some Badda Bing Bid'ness if you know what I mean.
And oh the bathroom... It was like walking into someone's house.
Curlers were on the counter, all sorts of lipsticks were out and around, makeup was strewn everywhere, Sinatra was playing in the background.
Wow. The best.

As corny as it sounds, I even like those Macaroni Grill, Papasitos bathrooms, where you get a little language lesson for your peeing pleasure. Sort of a nice little touch and a nice conversation starter when you ask the folks at your table in Italian, "Does this bus to go the zoo to see the monkeys?"

In all of my bathroom fascination, I have noticed a few things about me and my personality.
Once I have visited a certain bathroom, I feel the need to frequent that same stall each time I go back.
You can be sure to find me in the second bathroom stall at our local movie theatre's ladies' room. I gotta keep up with who loves whom and where I could find a good time if I so desired...like my own little novella right there.
Kroger, it is the first one on the left, closest to the sinks.
Sams, well, I look for the cleanest one in that joint. Ugh.
So, what I wonder is, do other people like bathrooms as much as I do?
Are others as dogmatic about their favorite stalls?
Could others write essays about the pleasures of drinking Sonic drinks?
Huh, I might need to research that one to see. I am sure there is a kinky scary website I will regret looking for.
:)

Butterflies
I have been smiling a whole lot more lately. I think it has to do with the butterflies.

You see, B and I went to a retreat called Cursillo, about a month ago. It was a great spiritual retreat focused on food, fellowship, scripture, and God and His Grace in our lives. In all, I think B and I walked away from the whole weekend with a great sense of peace and understanding about God, that we may not have had before.
We felt great.
The butterfly was a symbol of this weekend. Each day of the retreat, we got all kinds of little gifts left on our pillow. The first night, we got a caterpillar magnet. The second night, a chrysalis, the third night, a butterfly. It was meant to represent how we were changing spiritually throughout the weekend.
At first, I considered it quite a cheesy little mascot, but once I let go, and gave in to the cheese, I could really soak in symbolism of it all...or maybe it was just the lack of sleep throughout the whole weekend. Who knows.
Anyway, the day after the retreat, it was back to work and back to the grind of school. Funny though, the first thing I noticed, were the butterflies. Not real butterflies mind you, not yet anyway, but there were butterfly clips carefully pulling back locks of first grade hair, there were butterflies colorfully embroidered onto jeans, butterflies sequined onto tops, sweaters, shoes... It was as if each of my 12 girls in my class all called each other on the phone to coordinate the wearing of the butterflies. They were everywhere.
Every once in a while, I would look at one of the butterflies adorning the fashionistas in my class and smirk a little to myself. Like God was talking directly to me...reminding me with little hints.
And then, the news came. The first grade team leader came in with some bad news. "We have a huge problem. You see," she explained, "we usually study caterpillars in the Spring, but for some reason, they came early this year. We are going to have to teach butterflies now...today!"

I tried to look as serious as I could. I understood that to her, this was a huge huge problem. To me this was as if at that very moment, God had knocked me to the ground and said, "See, You have come a long way... spread your wings!"
Finally, by the end of the conversation with this woman, I was all smiles from ear to ear. Needless to say, she couldn't figure out why.

Since that day, the first graders and I have watched the caterpillars eat and eat and eat. We have watched them form the chrysalis and we have watched them emerge so delicately with their wet floppy wings, ready to begin the new phase of their life. We watched them anxiously go into that beautiful blue sky and we laughed and rejoiced.
We even warned them of those mean birds as we let them free.

My job as a teacher, my job as a friend, my job as a daughter and wife is to watch, guide, and help those whom I love to grow, change, and spread their spiritual wings and I hope they will do the same for me. Till then, I just look for butterflies and smile.

Wardrobe Malfunction
Last Thursday we had a wardrobe malfunction. I have been through a lot in my nine years of teaching, but never a wardrobe malfunction of this magnitude, I tell you. So, it was a rainy day on Thursday. One of those rainy days where you secretly thank your parents for those swimming lessons because eventually, you know you will need to practice your back stroke in order to get from the car to the front door of the school. The kind of rainy day where you don't even bother to curl or even brush your hair, knowing that by the time you get to work, your hair will be beautifully stuck to your head in a nice wet pattern.
I think you get the idea. It was rainy. So kids were coming in late, things were sort of crazy to begin with. Aaron's parents and I were trying hard to get the crying, flailing child into the classroom, Jacob needed to go to the bathroom for the third time at 8:05 am, and then it happened. The very faint sound of magic... we heard it... a fairy princess noise. Close your eyes and imagine the Disney sound of magic happening... over and over and over. This is what we heard. It was very faint, very quiet, and certainly very mysterious at first. It was clear the rest of the first graders had heard it too. Aaron even stopped crying and flailing to listen for the sound. If you'd have walked into the classroom, you would have really wondered what was going on. We all sort of were walking around the room, searching for the origin of the magical sound, putting our ears on backpacks, lockers, people's pockets, even on Aaron and his dad.
Then, the noise stopped. "Whew!" The source was still an enigma, but we could live now... the magical noise was gone and the kids could finally sit at their desks to read books. Five minutes later, all of the soggy children had finally been dropped off at school, when the magic started again, this time louder and more insistent that we find the origin.
At one point, the noise had driven some of the children so crazy, they were wandering around the room putting their ears to anything that could possibly make the noise. Finally, I noticed one child laying flat on the floor with her ear pressed toward Julie's shoes yelling, "It is here!"
You see, Julie's new princess shoes were so cool. They lit up and flashed a cute little light when she walked. That, she knew. But they also had a cool button on the tongue of the shoe that you could press to make a magical sound. Poor Julie didn't know that her shoes made this noise, so she was just as surprised as I was to see her classmate's ear plastered onto her shoe!
The noise got worse.
Louder and louder the magical shoe sound became, certainly not seeming so magical anymore.
No matter what we did, we couldn't get them to turn off! So I had to make the phone call to her mother.
I understand that parents get a bad feeing when their child's teacher calls them at work, so I tried instantly to reassure Julie's mom that things were ok, but that her shoes were, um, "so magical, that they won't stop". Her mom, finding me rather silly for calling, thought I was talking about the cute little flashy light and she was really wondering why I had bothered her at work to tell her about Julie's flashing shoes.... until I let her hear the magical sound.
Julie's mom assured us that she would leave work, go home, and get some new shoes. Can you imagine having to tell your boss that you need to leave work because the rain had caused your child's shoes to go crazy?
I can' t. But I wouldn't have imagined ever having to deal with such a wardrobe malfunction or the magical sounds of Disney shoes. Every once in a while, I can close my eyes and hear them, over and over again. I have a feeling all of the first graders in my class will, for a long long time.

Switch?

I am a Mac girl. I have always been a Mac girl. I come from a long line of Mac lovers.
I can remember the first time my dad came home with a computer. It was like the size of a shoe box, it seemed, but it was amazing. It required a huge disk in order to work, and could be carried with an actual handle. it was the neatest thing my whole family had ever seen and so easy to use. We didn't need too many instructions to figure out that thing called a mouse.

Then, we got a little more advanced in our thinking, and got bigger and better Macs. I can acually remember my dad saying to me, "you don't need a color printer... the screen isn't in color, so why would you need a color printer?" hee hee. Just picking on my dad there... He very quickly changed his mind and decided that the color printer and monitor were great. My dad packed up the whole family several years in a row and took us all to the MacWorld Conference. There we were in an ocean of glasses wearing, pocket protector having, geeks and we loved it.
We were just as geeky as the rest, oohing and ahhing over the latest in Apple's vast catalogue of wares.
We were on top of the Macintosh world, looking down at all of the IBM losers on the planet.
We laughed when those PC people were cheering for their Windows. "Ha, We had windows back in 1980. It was called, Macintosh ... " Probably OS 1 or something... who knows.

We were the Macintosh family for sure.
Then enter B. You know how they say opposites attract? Well... he was a PC guy all the way. I think my family had their doubts about us for a while. Who could marry someone who was such a PC person? He could have been green with polka dots and that wouldn't have mattered, it was the PC thing that was the issue... that and he liked Fords, but that is a different story. Eventually, my family saw through the PC lover exterior and began to see the great guy he was inside.

For my birthday, B, going totally against his PC beliefs, bought me an IMac. Now, our office is the best of both worlds, the Dell on one very messy desk, and the IMac on the opposite wall, on a slightly cluttered desk space. Seperate, but equal. We live in peace, although we didn't think it would be possible.
We actually have played on each other's computers quite nicely. I have learned to get along with his computer without too much struggle, and he has learned to play on my computer without any more bad words. He still works hard to turn me to the dark side of the PC world. My heart says no.

I am in the market right now for a new computer. My old IMac has had it. It doesn't have the "stuff" to do what I want it to do anymore. I am in need a new system. Of course, my PC friends and my sweet PC husband have all suggested that I make the big leap to PCs.
I will now admit that (listen to me carefully because I won't admit this often) that I have grown accustomed to B's computer. I won't say I like it, mind you, but I have grown accustomed to it.
I like the fact that with it, I can do all sorts of things that maybe are still not available for the Mac, so I will admit that I contemplated that "Dude, you are getting a Dell" concept for a while.
A Dell would certainly be cheaper, would certainly do as much as my new Mac, if not more. So why was I hanging on to the idea of a Mac? Why was my heart tearing when I seriously considered getting the PC. I don't know if it was the idea that I would eventually turn into one of THOSE "PC" people I looked down on in the past, or if it was the memory of how I felt the first time my dad came home with that little tiny computer and told us it was called an Apple.
I still remember loving that computer from the second I saw it.

You'll be happy to hear that I ordered one of the new G5s from Apple. It is back ordered now and I have a feeling it will be totally out of date by the time it actually arrives at my house.
But, I will keep the family tradition alive.
I will keep the Mac movement going... at least until I need another new computer.

For the love of Urban Legends

I’m not sure when it began. It could be when that cruel cruel older girl blurted out her thoughts on that Santa fellow and my life as I knew it was shattered for a while. Or really, I think it actually began with the cookie recipe. I don’t know if it was the fact that it was a great recipe for cookies or the idea of one person “sticking it to” the big bad corporation, but that Neiman Marcus Cookie story had me. You know the famous “you had me at hello” speech? The movie of my life would have the line, “you had me at grated Hershey bar…” If you are clueless so far… you can find the recipe here… http://urbanlegends.about.com/library/blbyol19.htm
Whatever it was, I loved loved loved the recipe, the story, the idea. I made and froze the 200-gazillion cookies. I copied the story and the recipe for anyone I thought would ever want it, who would stand up like Norma Ray, pump their arms in the air, and yell for the rights of the worker, the regular guy. (I am talking about the right Ray person right? Norma Ray= Sally Field character…Martha Ray= woman with the big mouth right? Either way, you know what I am talking about.) The idea was romantic, fabulous. And then my friend one day, out of nowhere, ate one of the cookies, laughed and said in an off-handed sort of way, “You know this is an urban legend”.
I have often caught myself walking down the hall, the mall, the street, whatever, imagining a certain soundtrack of my life. At that moment, I would add some rockin’ music as we ate cookies and then quickly, timed so well, add the sound of the scratching of a record as the music abruptly comes to an end. Yeah, it was that dramatic. Call it naiveté, call it stupidity, I don’t know what it was, but I felt it was dramatic.
I couldn’t even imagine it would be anything other than the truth.

Thinking back on it now, it shouldn't have been such a shock to me.  I should have known all about urban legends and myths. I was truly the subject of several legends/ myths going around my dad’s circle of friends and co-workers. He used to travel, making speeches about the tragedy of teenagers and middle school. He used to make up stories that fit the subject at hand, and of course they would be all about me. None of them were true, mind you, but they were all great stories. So great in fact, that years later, people from these workshops would meet me and happily try to reminisce with me with one story or another of me and my childhood. Finally, I couldn’t help it. One day I just quietly said, “You know, that really didn’t happen.” Yes, you can add the same record scratch sound effect if you wish, thank you.
I never thought about it till now, how I was the evildoer who burst the bubble of some unsuspecting naive person too.
So, it was either the fact that I was the subject of erroneous anecdotes, or that my life came to a screeching halt one day with something we now call “the cookie incident,” but something changed in me.
I became obsessed with urban legends. I love them now. I follow them, read about them, learn about them, study them, send the snopes website to anyone who insists on sending them to me via email. I have a fascination with them. I always wondered where they came from. Could anyone in the world just make one up and have it travel to worlds beyond? Could I one day, be in the grocery store and overhear someone talking about the urban legend that I made up? OH, I think I MUST create a very good urban legend. And of course, I won’t tell you guys what it is… that would burst your bubble now wouldn’t it? You will just always have to wonder. Until then… I am composing an email right now about a friend of a friend of a cousin of a brother who knew a guy who used to have his own soundtrack in life… I will have to work on it but it will be huge, I tell you! Huge!


For any check on an urban legend:
http://www.snopes.com (it is the best!)

I woke up thinking about the trash. Not a normal thing, I know, but it was early, and I wasn’t about to let the stinky stench of the watermelon rind take over yet another room in my house. So I woke at 6 a.m. with purpose and a mission.
And as B took a shower, I snuck outside and drug the trash down the driveway, where it inevitably tore and leaked chicken and melon juice all over my feet.
After cursing and hobbling to the curb, I looked around and noticed the unusually cool morning and decided I needed to walk. B thought I had totally lost my mind, but since he thinks that on a daily basis, neither one of us worried too much about it.
Now mind you, I love to walk. I love to smell the fresh clean air and enjoy waving at my neighbors… even the insane tai chi lady down the street. So, this was really great. I made plans in my head to wake up at 6 a.m. every morning! I could do that! Yeah, I would become part of this “walking in the morning” crowd. And then something… uh, brought me back to reality in such an evil way… trash day. And then I began looking at the trash. Mind you I said AT and not IN… I am not THAT crazy! How can one household eat that many pizzas? What kind of alcoholic lives here? 6 bottles of rum seems a bit excessive, don’t you think? Ok, so finally by the time I got back home, I had gagged back some choice words and a little bit of throw up and entered my house, vowing to Never walk the neighborhood again… at least not on trash day.

So walking was out, I needed something to do with my energy and summer bordom, so I decided to take up yoga again.
Well I, once in my life, believed myself to be pretty good when it came to the yoga stuff. I could speak the lingo, baby. I knew the difference between warrior and triangle pose. I could not only say the words “downward dog” without snickering, but I could actually do it in a semi public place without feeling too stupid. I wasn’t a yogi by any means, mind you, but I could do my share of the yoga poses.
But then, I got cocky… “too simple” I thought. I need a challenge. I am bored with doing the same routine all of the time… making fun of Sara Ivanhoe’s yankee accent could only last so long. So I did my research and found just the right one for me.
Power Yoga from MTV. What was it I wasn’t getting? The POWER part? Or the fact that it was from MTV? Uh.. don’t know.

So I put the new yoga DVD into the machine today and tried my luck at the new tape.
You ever seen an epileptic chicken? This was exactly what I looked like.
“Put your leg into the air, now swing it down and go to warrior pose, then downward dog, then sun salutation, then back up all the way on your feet arms in the air…” in a span of 10 seconds!
Needless to say, I was a failure at that fun.
I am thinking I will just maybe wake up early and walk only on NON trash days… Maybe I will just wake up at 6 a.m., kiss my husband goodbye, and go back to sleep for another three hours and do that easy yoga at let’s say, noon? Sounds good to me!

Summer

So, what are you doing this summer?

Me, just going crazy thanks.
It happens every year you know. I finally figured it out. During the months of August through May, I go, like a worker bee, nine hundred miles per hour in all directions. I make lesson plans, I create poems, I develop forms, I organize, I teach, I read, I learn, I go…not to mention cleaning the house, folding clothes, cooking dinner with B, etc.
I have gotten to the point where multitasking is my business. Being a teacher does that to you. “What, you have a cut? Let me get you a Band-aid. You need your pencil sharpened? I will do that on the way to get the Band-aids. Well, if you are feeling sick, then go to the bathroom, don’t throw up right here! You are supposed to ride the bus today? Let me write that down so I won’t forget… Where did that sticky note go and what did it say on it?” You get the idea. And at home, it is even worse. I CAN’T watch television and not DO something else. Going to the movies is painful since I KNOW I can be doing five other things while watching that movie. Now, in that multitasking, comes losing your mind. How many times have I walked into a room and completely forgotten what I came in for? How many times have I sat down at my computer to realize I had gone in that room to look for the remote control 45 minutes before? Multitasking makes you stupid. Really. So, now that it is summer, my life is a little less complicated. Things, as a matter of fact, have come to a screeching halt. And I am left with this feeling of guilt like I should be doing so many things… No more multitasking to do…so why am I still losing my mind?

Every year, the summer starts off this way. I get to that screeching halt and go a little crazy. I start to email and call B like every 5 minutes, or as long as he can stand it. That’s not very long by the way. He told me once that I needed a hobby. Bugging him sounds like a great hobby to me, but he disagrees. So, for now, I will try to read my trash novel WHILE watching old re-runs of West Wing. The monument to slactitude is getting bigger as we speak and I think the cat has been lost for um… two days now in the middle of it. So I have plenty to do.
Maybe I will even start doing more of this blog thing…
The only thing is… I need to figure out what I can do while I write blog entries to really make myself feel like a multitasker. And maybe I can let myself go a little crazy too. I can run around and get band-aids and sharpen pencils and write myself sticky notes just for the heck of it… and feel like I am back to being the queen of multitasking. Or maybe not.