You can find me

here.

I think the move is final. . .

I have transported all of my blogger archives over to Wordpress. . .and despite my ever changing header ('cause it's JUST SO FUN TO DO), I think my move is permanent. Not sure why other than the lovely header. I am used to blogger. . .it does lots of things for me, like let me write in lovely colors. . .so I will keep this one up but will be posting at the other site. . .which is here. Come and see me--although I'll be busy until after Christmas. Hope you enjoy your holidays. . .

Torn between two weblogs

So I haven't had time (yet) to get things all switched over. . .but I did post at that other place tonight. . .so if you care to go there, then go here.

I am tired. The kids are out for break, but I have tomorrow. . .so off to bed with me.

Music is FUN!!!

Okay. . .so Stephanie and I are both "involved" in a little contest of sorts. . .and I'm not gonna tell you what 'cause I REALLY want to win. . .but she's gonna beat me 'cause she has this great Meme see (and it's pronounced dream--the mystery is solved for me 'cause I've been wondering). It's below, and it's fun, so either copy and paste to your blog or to the comments and let us all enjoy you through music. . .


Choose an artist (or band) and answer only in song TITLES by that artist: James Taylor

Are you male or female: Something in the Way She Moves

Describe yourself: Steamroller

How do some people feel about you: Don't Talk Now

How do you feel about yourself: That's Why I'm Here

Describe your ex boyfriend: Long Ago and Far Away

Describe where you want to be: Country Road

Describe what you want to be: Your Smiling Face

Describe what you want: Secret 'O Life

How do you live: How Sweet it Is

Describe how you love: Everyday

Share a few words of wisdom: You've Got a Friend

Call me Hester Pryne and give me my "A"

Infidelity. . .Fornication. . .Adultery. . .no, it's not the latest episode of "Desperate Housewives."

Got your attention? Well. . .let me lay it on you. I'm having an affair. . .with Wordpress. That's right. Go see the love child we have made together. I am thinkin' of "going to find myself" over there seeing as how it has such new exciting options and all. I won't be able to REALLY give Blogger the news until school is out for Christmas. . .but you can go and visit the baby if you like. If I truly do decide to give my heart to another, it will be quits for Blogger. . .I'm a one blog woman.

Contrary to popular belief

and contrary to ANYTHING ANY of you people might tell me. . .I have had in engrained from birth that I, yes I, as Queen of my castle am solely personally responsible for the happiness of all of the castle's inhabitants. . .yea verily from Lady in Waiting and Squire all the way up to the King himself.

It is a tight rope walk--a delicate balancing act--a juggling of wills and wants/won'ts and needs and preferences and at times all I can do is just keep the balls in the air. Now some of you will tell me that it is NOT my job--and I whole-heartedly completely believe you. . .I'm just sayin' that no matter what logical portion of my brain holds tightly to that belief, the blood of good wives and mommas that flows through my veins from generations hence cries out that I can believe all of this new-fangled modern smack all I want, but truth is truth and the truth is that if you are trying to be a wife and momma worth your salt you (secretly) hold to the iron-clad belief that everyone's happiness is your own personal responsibility.

Case in point. We do not have cable. Tony is a PBS/Discovery channel/Risk playin'/Eagle Scout who loves himself a good, informative trivia filled documentary that can make him Master of All Time at Trivial Pursuit--and also make him able to answer any of one million questions that I or the kids might ask him 'cause he ALWAYS knows the answer. Because we don't have cable, he records shows on his tv at school overnight--just pushes the button and lets her run--for us to have a never-ending stream of wonderful trivia(l) documentaries. This morning he was watching the making of snack foods--from pork rinds to gummy bears. Now, he deserves to be able to do this. He spends all week long in starched shirts and ties and came straight home from school yesterday and mowed the front and back yards (yes in November the man has an obsession with the length of the grass in his yard and likes to keep it just so) and then was awakened at 6:30 this morning by a child that we have trouble waking up all week long.

On the other hand--it's Saturday morning--and after all of the news shows that means cartoons--and now NBC has grown some scruples--or is just cashing in on all of us moral people--and they have VEGGIE TALES on Saturday mornings. And then after some show about a Dragon with a catchy little theme song, and another cartoony pre-school thing. . .they have either LARRY BOY or THREE TWO ONE PENGUINS.

We are a two t.v. family. The second is very small with a built in VCR mainly used to record things or in the car when we travel to Louisiana. . .but sometimes we will send the kids to view something on that tv. It does not get NBC--UNLESS--to my discovery this morning--Someone (see the Queen) stands next to it and holds the antenna just so and has her hand go numb while holding it which is where the King found her after I--I mean the Queen--sent the Lady in Waiting downstairs to ask him to come up when he got to the next commercial--even though what he is watching is on tape and can be stopped and rewound at any old time.

At which point the Queen declared that everyone's personal happiness was NOT her responsibility and the King wisely asked the Lady in Waiting and the Squire if they would like to go on a field trip with him so he could donate blood (yes--really--he has his 8 GALLON mug already and is a rare blood donor and little tiny newborn babies can use the blood he donates if they are sick so how could I not HELP but love the man). And they said, "Yes." And so they have left and I have poured forth my woes unto you oh unsuspecting blog reader.

Not woes really--just weighty things that dangle around and drop and fall and roll around from time to time. . .

Mary Poppins

Well, evidently much like Mary Poppins, I am "Practically Perfect in Every Way." Does no one have anything to say about my oddities? quirkiness? loathesome habits? Surely. . .

:) I still have a creativity blog to write. . .but I have been sitting here so long that I have melded to the chair and must extricate myself so that I don't become part of the wood.

Six weird Things About Me

So Sarah tagged me to list 6 weird things about myself. . .she didn't PERSONALLY tag me. . .but said to consider myself tagged if I was reading her blog--which I do daily for the most part. ..and since I added several things to her list in my comment, then it's my turn to play. . .and I'm hoping Sarah is feeling merciful when she comments about this. (Yikes!!!!)

1. I am very flexible. As in physically flexible. That may not seem very odd, but I am not a small girl. . .in fact, I am a rather substantial girl but flexible I am. My favorite position for putting on makeup is with my right knee resting on the counter and my foot pointed back toward my body. Weird I tell ya.

2. I make piles--piles of laundry--piles of paper--piles of letters--piles of things to put away--piles, piles, piles. . . my name should be Gomer.

3. I am an introverted extrovert. I can hold a conversation with ANYONE. I can have someone I have never met telling me their darkest family secrets within 20 minutes or less of meeting them. . .but I'd rather be at home either alone or with just my family.

4. I grew up in a home in the south with no central heat or air. . .none what-so-ever. We had gas space heaters and ONE window unit air conditioner and an attic fan. I guess that's not really so weird (no, really it is), but how about this. . .I lived in that same house barring the years I was in college from the second I left the hospital until I got married--and my parents are still there AND I lived in a town with BOTH sets of my grandparents and we all went to church together an my brother and sister still live there. Yes, it still happens.

5. Some of my best friends were/are old enough to be my mother/grandmother.

6. I leave my shoes all over the place. My roommates in college complained about it. I can't remember if Sarah and Julie complained--'cause they had their own crudola all over our duplex, but I currently have two pairs of shoes in the floor where I stepped out of them. . .you can even tell, by how they are positioned, which one I took off first.

7. *Bonus* If you haven't noticed--I have a LOVE AFFAIR with various and sundry forms of lesser used punctuation such as the dash (--) and the ellipsis (. . .). Mrs. Avery could have cared less about my shoes since I never took them off in her Senior English class, but she was mortified by my overuse of the humble comma. So she suggested the -- (dash) and unleashed the beast. It suits me though since I, against all suggestions by better writers than myself, write JUST LIKE I speak.

Okay--everyone chime on in--even you lurkers 'cause you can always click anonymous. . .What other weird habits do I have ????

Mission maybe possible?

Do you ever decide you want to do a project? Something creative that looks like fun but has lots of different pieces to it--cross-stitch for instance. You get the book and the hoop and the fabric and the needles and a basket full of different threads. Then you organize the threads and stress over how much fabric to cut and look and search for the pattern you want to use. . .and by then several days have ellapsed and the time you had is all gone in organization and it's (let me check) 9:10 at night and your husband is headed to bed.

Well, I'm not cross-stitchin'. I'm doin' somethin' else. But I am determined to make this an on-going project--one that will not be finished--and there will be no perfection. . .and it will be fun.

Wish me luck.

From a Wonderful Book

If you do not own a copy of Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach, it is most definitely worth the money. I bought my copy in 1998 and it's all marked up and written in and loved--especially since she loves the oft neglected dash(--) as much as I do. I have lots and lots of things to say about creativity, but I don't have time to say them now, so allow me to post one of my favorite Sarah Ban Breathnach "posts" from Simple Abundance.

Sigh Some More, My Ladies, Sigh Some More

Most of the sighs we hear have been edited.

--Stanislaw Jerzy Lec

I have a habit that drives my husband crazy and keeps me sane.

I sigh.

Obviously, I sigh more than I am consciously aware. Yet I've noticed that whenever my sighing is brought to my attention--"Please don't do that"--I'm taking deep breaths for a very good reason.

Women sigh so that we won't scream. There are several occasions during the course of any woman's day when, without question, screaming is the appropriate response. However, on this side of an electrified fence, screaming is not considered good form.

So we sigh.

First we breathe in, quickly and sharply, inhaling reality, acknowledging the present situation--the current hassle or disappointment, confrontation or challenge, long wait or lack of cooperation.

We hold our breath for a heartbeat.

Then we breath out, slowly and deeply, exhaling and letting go of our initial response--our dismay, impatience, frustration, annoyance, disappointment, regret. Letting it out. Letting it go.

The act of sighing is a quiet vote of acceptance--of "getting over it" and moving on.

Women with significant others and/or children sigh more than their solitary sisters because there are more preferences, needs, wants, wills, and demands to be dealt with, if there is to be a state of peace in the daily round. More bending in order not to break.

So should you feel the need to sigh today, by all means breathe slowly and deeply. Breathe expressively. Think of sighing as the hot air that makes rising to the occasion possible. Hot air that's pent up will eventually explode, and steam can burn. But steam that's deliberately allowed to escape through a safety valve can be converted into creative energy. So sigh with out hesitation. Sigh without guilt. Sigh without embarrassment. Sigh with pleasure.

Sigh some more, my ladies, sigh some more.

If you like some salty with your sweet

I have mentioned Joshilyn (pronounced Josslyn) Jackson here before. I cannot even remember how I found her blog, but I have read both books she has in print and will read the other as soon as she finishes it. Anyway. . .if you like some good blog writing, go to hers from time to time.

Today she has a lovely post about her mother. From there I clicked on the link to a similar one about her father. And from there I went to this one that made me laugh so hard I activated my asthma and strained a rib. It's probably really not THAT funny. . .but it struck me as so when she got to the part where her 8 year old chimes in.

Anyway--much like Boomama or Antique Mommy, it's better reading than anything that would come from my keyboard tonight.

Something to get your week started

Our district superintendent mails us a weekly letter via e-mail. He normally has atleast three quotations in it. I liked this one a lot. . .


“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year. Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in. Forget them as soon as you can; tomorrow is a new day.” -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Memo

Victoria's first comment this morning when she came downstairs was stated in sort of a flat accusatory tone.

"You moved some things on the tree."

REMEMBER. . .happiness, magic, joy, thankfulness. . .children who will be in bed by 7:30 tonight. . .

:) :) :)

Oh, Christmas Tree

It is 10:45 p.m. I just went to check on the kids--who got into bed MAYBE 25 minutes ago, and Thad was still awake. I foresee bed at 7:30 tomorrow night.

We have had a great big 'ole weekend. Yesterday when school was over we all drove out to the High Star Christmas Tree Farm to pick us out a tree. . .a Yankee tree mind you. We got the native grown pine trees a couple of years, but the year I was bleeding from pokes and had to finish decorating the tree while sporting Tony's leather work gloves, well that was it for me. Now we splurge and buy the Douglas fir that was grown north of the Mason Dixon. We call it our "Martha Stewart tree." It has all those lovely, tiny needle laden branches sticking out--just perfect for showcasing your favorite Christmas baubles. And it feels like velvet when you rub it.

Of course we have some ornaments Martha would never entertain--an angel ornament made from one white bead, a paper clip, and a silver pipe cleaner (and have you noticed they are not called pipe cleaners anymore but like chenille rods or something). We have a precious picture of Thad glued in the middle of two candy canes that are put together to make a heart. . .not sure how long that one will last. We have Curious George and Raggedy Ann and Andy--lots with glue and tissue paper and school pictures.

The first year we were married, Tony did not want a tree. He was still hung up on the "perfect" tree--and neither our apartment nor our budget could afford such. I made him drive me to the woods where I cut the top out of a pine--and he laughed at me for the next three weeks, but I had a tree. Then I got a little artificial one the next year. Even I couldn't do the top of a pine again. The first year we were in this house, it was "perfect" tree time. We went to a tree farm where Tony took 2 hours (of constant walking) to find just the right one. Then we went to Garden Ridge Pottery the next day to find a decor we liked and bought ornaments just like those--gold and cream. Lovely. Perfect. I was careful to tell Tony that one day our tree would not be so photogenic--he was adamant that we would never sully our tree with mismatching ornaments. Gold and cream it was. Gold and cream it would be. World without end, amen.

Then along came the girl. I decided to get her an ornament each year for Christmas. She gets either an angel or a heart. . .and it's very easy to keep up with the gold and cream color scheme since angels and hearts lend themselves to those particular colors. All was right with the tree.

And along came the boy. He gets a Santa or a train each year--and he currently has more Santas than trains. If I'm buyin' a Santa, it's not gonna be one wearing gold or cream. That is unnatural--and I've seen some lovely gold and/or cream Santas--but it's unnatural for a little boy. So we had a few touches of red here and there.

Thad is now five. Some years he's gotten two ornaments because I just couldn't decide. As we finished decorating tonight and stepped back to look at our masterpiece (a little ornament heavy around the bottom), I said to Tony, "Well, our gold and cream tree. . ." And before I could finish my thought he said, "Is now red."

And it is. It's red and gold and cream and silver and green and lovely all over. It sings of children in the house--of magic and wishes and having to fuss some to make sure nothing gets broken.

After the kids went to bed, I tweaked the tree--made sure there was only one ornament per little branch--but tried not to move them so much that the kids would notice. I picked up the heavy ones that had fallen off from Thad hanging them too closely to the ends. The tree will be tweaked off and on by all of us until Christmas day. I have not doubt of that, but one thing I do know. Someday the children will leave and take their ornaments with them--the red Santa and tissue paper and school picture ones. The candy cane hearts and favorite toy ones. The twisted lollipops and angels and trains. That's my intention--to let them have a tree full of ornaments for their home the first year they are out of our nest and feathering one of their own. But as those ornaments leave my home, they will take pieces of my heart along with them. The children for whom I bought them will be grown and going, going, gone.

So tomorrow I will try not to fuss so much. I will try to be patient when I hear, "Momma? . . ." for the millionth time in five minutes. I will hold them close and smell their hair and try to remember that this time is short. This time is a gift. This time is perfect--perfectly full of love and kisses and private chats and I-love-yous and surprises and children dancing to Christmas music. As I look at the tree I will try to remember--so that I never forget--how our God who sent his own child to redeem us gave me these two to love and teach and parent and guide for awhile so I might just begin to understand how much He loves me.

I am sitting in the lights of the tree. Tony is watching a movie and eating popcorn. He just looked over here and said, "THAT is a beautiful tree." High praise.

I hope you have a lovely tree all your own wrapped in little decorations that hold fond memories--decorated with love--in a house full of joy.

I am so proud. . .

You paid attention during 86% of high school!

85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!

Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz

So I did pretty well. . .though I must admit that one question I would have answered differently a couple of days ago, but I JUST read something about it. . .and I TOTALLY guessed at the one about the area of a right triangle. I am a READING/LANGUAGE ARTS TEACHER for a VERY good reason.

Next I'll need an ear trumpet

I have a very good memory. This is not conceit--it is fact. It's the one thing I've got goin' for me besides my very thick hair. . .and this afternoon after an exhausting day of school as I was RUNNING from my portable to go and get Thad so he could get some new underwear. . .I had a wonderful idea for a blog topic--so wonderful, in fact, that I decided I would use the time that my family was at a roller hockey game (which is right now) to blog it. . .

. . .but forgot it. I sat there during dinner and tried to remember it. . .I tried and tried and tried. . .to no avail. It's gone. Poof!!! It is but a memory buried deep within the recesses of my brain--my very good brain that cannot, at this moment, remember an idea I had only 4 hours ago. And there is no one standing at my elbow asking to play Hotwheels.com or asking me where they put something or to come and sit on the couch with them. . .I am free to blog until the cows (or atleast my family) come home, and the idea has scurried away like a frightened bunny.

So, I will, instead, make a list of things I like. . .there are so many.


*Homemade Hidden Valley Ranch Original Ranch Dressing--you don't even have to buy buttermilk

*Bob's miniature candy canes. . .not trying to milk last night--they are just truly the best candy canes EVER

*Hugging my boy--he got so tickled at something he did last night that he was giggling uncontrollably and had to run straight into my arms for a hug--much like when he used to cry uncontrollably--except he was happy. . .so happy

*Watching Victoria sleep--it's the only time she is still my baby

*Getting e-mail from Tony during the school day--we have to check our e-mail often for messages from the office, other teachers, etc. I love it when there is one from him waiting for me. It is normally a subject line only--and the subject line normally says, "I love you."

*Iced tea--Lipton--1/2 caf/1/2 decaf with pink sweetener--like the dressing, I make my own

*Christmas lights

*My pajamas. . .and my bed. . .and my pillows

*Talking to my Momma

*Having a Saturday with nothing planned and nowhere to go

*My miniature Christmas Village

*A clean kitchen when it's been so messy that you forget you cleaned it and it's a surprise when you go in and find it clean. . .

*A large diet Coke from Sonic

*A really good book--even if I've read it 5 or 6 times

*Romantic comedies--mainly Sandra Bullock, Tom Hanks, and Meg Ryan. . .is there anyone better at those than them?

*White, cotton socks

*My gray sweatshirt jacket--way, way cozy

*When I make my students laugh. . .now is the time of year when the relationship is actually gelling--and even if class is rough, they all say "Goodbye, Mrs. Teacher. See you tomorrow." And you can tell that they like you

*A good laugh

I think that's it for now. Maybe if I go watch a romatic comedy under my Christmas lights while I drink a diet Coke my original idea will come scurrying back for another try.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

BERGERMEISTER MEISTERBERGER TAKES
OVER TEXAS EDUCATION AGENCY

Okay. . .okay. . .I get it. We as Americans are fat--fat, fat, FAT. I am one of several million fat Americans. . .I. GET. IT.

And I also get that teachers may possibly give our already sedentary fat kids too much candy as rewards. . .especially in middle school or jr. high where you have 7 different teachers--and if each and every teacher gives you a piece of candy or a Tootsie Roll for being good or following directions or because your hair looks cute today or because you did not intentionally flatulate the entire class period, well, that adds up to lots and lots of sugar, folks.

So I get it.

I really do.

And the state of Texas has come up with a thing called Foods of Minimal Nutritional Value. . .and you can read it here if you so choose. There are all sorts of things that are a no-no. . .

*Hard Candy--no-no. . .there goes the cheapest and most sought after reward known to students: the Jolly Rancher
*Gummy anything: bubble, bears, sharks, worms, etc.
*Nougat anything: taffy, chewy stuff, tootsie rolls
*No food may be given to students by a teacher until ALL lunches have been served. This means even good things like raisins, gold fish, etc.
*We can give things that are chocolate AFTER all lunches have been served since chocolate has milk in it and is also WAY more expensive than a Tootsie Roll (which used to go a long way in keeping Scottie's knee in his desk)

But today, well, today just capped it all.

Today, in a memo, we were reminded, yea directed to be aware of the fact that, and I quote:

"You may not give students peppermints. Candy canes are illegal."

Candy canes. . .ILLEGAL!!!! Just the plain, simple candy cane--you know--wholesome. . .peppermint. . .red and white. . .all American goodness of Christmas. . .King Leo soft. . .mini. . .regular. . .gigantic. . .gargantuan 10 lb. obnoxious candy canes.

They are all illegal. There is an actual LAW, people. A LAW that states the illegality of issuing canes of peppermint candy to attendees of Texas public schools. I'm not EVEN kidding. My school can be fined up to $50,000 (yes, that's fifty and thousand all together as one sum) for having a child in possession of a candy cane that a teacher has issued them.

My tax dollars hard at work.

Now, kids can bring their own candy canes to school. . .they can roll in candy canes. . .they can eat lunch boxes full of candy canes. . .they can give ME candy canes. . .but I, I cannot give them a candy cane. . .no, not even on the day before school lets out for Christmas.

I am a pleaser--a rule follower--I was the kid that parents didn't mind their kid being with because I wouldn't let them do anything too stupid or immoral or illegal. But this makes me want to go stand on the bus ramp after school and hand out candy canes to each and every one of the 1,500 kids who attend our school AND the bus drivers too. How 'bout that.

I won't. . .but I want to.

In short: Candy canes illegal. I have run out of steam. . .there is no limit to the stupidity. Hey. . .I wonder if I send candy canes to school with Victoria DURING the school day for her Christmas party if I can be fined for THOSE candy canes--or does being a mother trump being a teacher?

Don'tcha just love it Deux

Tony has preferences. . .strong preferences. . .have I mentioned that before?

He is an excellent teacher. He makes LOTS of parent phone calls. When he makes parent phone calls, he prefers to sit at the kitchen table. The kitchen is Grand Central Station in our home. . .and is only a child's voice away from the living room which is whatever the next busiest thing to Grand Central Station is. Tony also prefers that we be absolutely silent while he makes phone calls. He does not prefer to go upstairs to our bedroom which is just a lovely little stop on the way to Grand Central Station and which has a locking door for his quiet, solitudinous convenience. There is lots and lots of shushing going on during parent phone call time.

In an effort to keep my kitchen clean, I have been RELIGIOUSLY running the dishwasher once a day whether it is fully loaded or not. I must, must, must do this or things stack up and then you can just call 'er done. This afternoon I revved up the dishwasher and let her go AFTER Tony was through with his parent phone calls, which leads me to. . .

Don'tcha just love it when you unload the ENTIRE batch of dishes you did only to discover AFTER all has been put away that your husband stopped it BEFORE the rinse cycle so he could make ONE MORE PHONE CALL and then promptly FORGOT TO RESTART IT??????? AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

And it's cold season. So I am rewashing every fork, spoon, and glass we own since I didn't memorize which ones I put away. The bowls and plates. . .well, each man for himself with those. They look fine. They don't feel gritty, and I figure they don't actually touch our mouths.

Kidmas Carols

My kids, like all kids love Christmas carols. . .just like yours do, just like we did. . .

When Victoria was little, we went through several versions of "Jingle Bells."

". . .Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one four self in sleigh. . ." I guess there had to be four people in the sleigh.

THEN

". . .oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse elfen sleigh. . ." I think I 'd like to see a one-horse elven sleigh. . .pretty.

Tonight coming home from the volunteer fire-fighter's "Parade of Lights", Thad hit us with a new one.

"Deck duh halls with boughs of hahwy

Fah wah wah wah wah, wah wah wah wah.

Aww duh weasons to be jahwy. . ." And we do, indeed, have "all the reasons to be jolly."

The latest is them both singing a very loud version of "Oh, Christmas Tree."

"Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree,
Oh, how I love you Christmas tree. . ."

And we will be loving our very own Christmas tree this Friday. We have a mini one that the kids decorated, but we will go to "High Star Christmas Farm" Friday after school to pick one out, and then to Sonic for supper--a tradition of three years now. The kids are very excited, and so are we.

What funny versions of carols have you heard from little ones?

Can you hear the bell?

We just watched "The Polar Express." I had not seen it before. The kids saw it a couple of years ago with Tony's sister and her husband. For some reason, I just thought it could never hold up to the book. I could see they had added some things. . .I was NOT a "believer."

Well, I was pleasantly surprised. Here's a spoiler. . .if you've not seen the movie, then skip the rest of this paragraph and pick up on the next one. The most wonderful part of the whole thing for me was when Santa came up behind the boy and he could see him in the reflection from the bell. The kids didn't remember much from the first time, because Thad was on one side of me and Victoria was on the other, and they were PERFECTLY still. I was holding my breath along with them.

The first year that I taught school, I lived in Abilene with Sarah. I taught a 4th grade class, and loved them dearly though they exhausted me and were present at the outset of the long march of time across my forehead.

Scotty was the boy that caused me to be marked down on one of my very first observations because he was not sitting still during my lesson. I had an outside observer, so she didn't know that for Scotty to be anywhere in the general vicinity of his desk, much less with his rear end actually seated inside the confines of said desk was nothing short of a miracle. I was normally happy for him just to have a knee on the seat.

Then there was his closest friend, Nehemiah. . .the most beautiful little boy you've ever seen. Skin the color of bronze, black curls, golden eyes--and full of spit and vinegar. DJ giggled all the time. Lucinda wasn't there very much, because she was frequently ill--probably because she didn't get enough healthy food or have enough warm clothes. Yvonne was the prettiest little thing and starved for affection. She had lice a lot, and she also had two incredibly deep dimples that popped out at the most unexpected times. I can still see her black eyes looking up at me.

Sara (without an "h") wrote me a note and told me I was "as pretty as a bouncing ball." She and Kim were very competitive with each other. Kim continued to write to me for several years, but I lost contact with her. She was my star pupil and the one who spear-headed the apology note that said, "We will be good in the hallway when you ask us not to talk so much. And this time we mean it." It was signed by the entire class--even Nehemiah and Scotty.

Harley was another kid that just could not seem be anywhere he was ever supposed to be when he was supposed to be there. I spent way too much time fussing at him. He's the one that buried his head in his arms on his desk and sobbed the last day of school because I was moving to Houston to marry Tony. I wish I had hugged him more.

Santos was about as tall as me and didn't ever have much to say. Stephanie was friends with Shasta and wrote an essay that said, "Shasta is my good best friend even though she dresses like a boy." Seth made two different types of whales AND a whaling ship WITH a working harpoon out of nothing but Legos. He and Shasta each broke an arm falling from the same set of monkey bars during extra recess within one week of each other. After that the rule was that no one in Miss Watts' class could even LOOK at the monkey bars. One broke their right arm and one their left, so I called them Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

Spencer was about my undoing. . .the one I loved but was not sad to see the back of. I will not go back and count how many I mentioned, because I'm sure I left some out. . .oh. . .there was another Sarah--one with an "h" and her last name rhymed with "Buick", and two boys that I got late in the year. . .one a blond--I can see his face. His mom lost a baby that year--Cody I think. The other a little boy with black hair and a bowl hair cut. He didn't have much to say either--maybe Diego?

I have so many regrets about that year. . .I was young and green and besotted with someone six and half hours away, so I probably didn't do a whole lot for those kids. But I loved them. We made it through 4th grade and Texas history and a year I will never forget together. My friend Becky was as new and green as me and was across the sidewalk teaching 1st grade. It was the blind, deaf, and dumb trying to lead each other out there. It's a wonder someone didn't get hurt. . .beside Shasta and Seth of course.

I can't remember why (remind me here, Sarah), but the day I read them the Polar Express, I had Sarah come to help me. She can "speak" American sign language fluently, and I had her sign the words while I read the book.

My class was spellbound. Even Scotty and Spencer and Harley sat completely still. They watched her hands and were transfixed. . .there was not a sound but my voice. . .and it was as though time stood still for a moment and things were as they should be. I am incredibly emotional, and it took all I had not to cry, but I didn't. I read the book and Sarah signed the words, and since I had it almost memorized, I was able to watch the kids as they watched her. The moment was perfect.

Those kids are now 24 and 25 years old. Some of them are parents themselves. I wonder if they remember that day, that story, the beauty of that moment when we sat in the oldest portable in Abilene, Texas and listened to a story that spoke of someone their own age--someone who had just reached that age when children learn the "truth" about Santa Claus. Probably none of them believed in Santa any more by then. They were 9 and 10. But they weren't so far removed from believing that they didn't know the wonder of Christmas--the magic of Santa.

That was exactly 15 years ago, but I hope they are teaching their children to hear the bell--at least for a little while--and I hope they heard it, however faintly, in our classroom that day.

Cantankerous

Blogger is being a little tetchy tonight and keeps saying it can't publish my last post--even though it is VERY clearly there. . .but the linky doodle they have doesn't work, so if you want to find out how many people have YOUR name, go here. With my maiden name, there are 22 of me.

I'm surprised there are that many

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 7 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

My name is Roxanne _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _, and I'm married to Tony _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _. Our last name is not that common--at least not in Texas. Evidently there are skads of us in Virginia, but we're not related.

ANYWAY. . .I found it rather amusing when about 8 years ago a lady at church asked my mother-in-law when Tony and I had moved to Grapeville. Ruthann was surprised and asked how the woman had gotten that idea. She told Ruthann that her husband was from Grapeville and got the weekly paper. She had read a small article in it about Tony and me. Well. . .low and behold if there is not another Tony and Roxanne _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.

And if that's not odd ENOUGH--they moved to Houston about 7 years ago. And we began getting phone calls for them. . .because they were not listed in the phone book but we were. . .and we are listed as Tony and Roxanne _ _ _ _ _ _ _.

Later the same little lady from church brought ME an article about the same people and some "High Fashion Design" place they had opened. Interesting. So I keep on getting phone calls for them, and one day decide to call 'em up at their store.

A man answers the phone. . .

"Hello."

"Hello. May I speak to Tony _ _ _ _ _ _ _?"

"Yes. This is Tony _ _ _ _ _ _ _. May I ask whose calling?"

"Yes. This is Roxanne _ _ _ _ _ _ _."

Silence. . .silence. . .silence. . .

"This is who?"

"This is Roxanne _ _ _ _ _ _ _, and I am married to Tony _ _ _ _ _ _ _. We live in Houston, but we keep getting phone calls for you and your wife."

It took me a moment to convince him, but after relaying the story I guess he figured I wasn't making it up. That was that. . .he didn't even offer me any free decorating advice. And now I go and find that there are 5 more somewhere. . .amazing.

We now attend a different church, and this summer a sweet, little lady brought me a newspaper clipping one Sunday morning. I bet you'll NEVER guess who it was about. . .

Thad's Lament

As mentioned on previous and various occasions on my blog, Thad has some speech impediments. It is just a part of our every day lives. . .we can understand him almost all of the time, but it's still pretty thick. I especially notice it when I see him on video. . .

Anyway, tonight I was sitting in my office (which is JUST LIKE Fonzie's office and seems to be where my children love to have meetings with me) and Thad bounces in all happy. He's telling me about his day and showing be what he got to choose from the treasure BOX (not chest) because he stayed on "gween" all week, when out of nowhere he mournfully wails,

"But I nevuh get to say the cwap!!!!!!!! Gwegowy says the staw cwap, and a fiyuh wuk cwap, but I NEVUH get to say the CUH-WAP. The teachuh says you need to make up yuw own cwap."

I was trying very hard not to laugh while Tony was failing miserably at the same thing over at the sink.

He, of course, was saying CLAP. . .but it was humorous none-the-less

Of course, I'm kind of glad he doesn't get to say the cwap. . .and I have no doubt that some day he will be very good at making up his own cwap. . .but tonight he's practicing the snowman clap of his own creation.