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.