It be's that way sometimes.

You can find me

2006-12-26T15:54:00.000-06:00

here.

I think the move is final. . .

2006-12-23T01:06:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-20T21:15:00.000-06:00

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!!!

2006-12-19T11:52:00.000-06:00

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"

2006-12-17T21:43:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-16T10:28:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-15T20:19:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-14T23:01:00.000-06:00

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?

2006-12-14T21:08:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-13T19:40:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-11T21:18:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-10T22:01:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-10T16:30:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-09T16:32:00.000-06:00

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. . .

2006-12-08T18:29:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-07T18:09:00.000-06:00

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!

2006-12-06T18:15:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-03T21:56:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-03T20:02:00.000-06:00

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?

2006-12-02T20:40:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-01T23:46:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-01T23:22:00.000-06:00

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

2006-12-01T17:57:00.000-06:00

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.

Please, hold the applause. . .

2006-11-29T21:49:00.000-06:00

My husband and I both teach in public schools. We are "merely" teachers. . .no administrative dreams either. This is not a high-paying profession. It will be especially LOW paying next school year when we BOTH miss an entire month's salary due the state legislature's decision to not begin school until after Labor Day. I digress.

Even though I knew we would never be rollin' in the dough. . .I always knew I wanted to stay home with my kids--atleast as long as I could. That turned out to be five years. Two with Victoria. One year back while pregnant with Thad. Three more years after Thad was born.

Our wonderful plans and sacrifice did not, however, stop things like root canals, flat tires, broken air conditioners, lots and lots of strep, diapers, formula, transmissions, etc. So basically life. . .

This came to the tune of several thousand dollars. . .like 5 figures. . .like a very, very, *VERY* nice car or several trips to Disney World. Luckily we don't care about nice cars or Disney World either (well--maybe Disney World a little bit, and I hear from Joshilyn Jackson that they have the world's cleanest bathrooms.) It was more than worth the price tag to get those 5 years.

But I can now proudly announce, that in only15 months we have obliterated all 5 figures. We, tonight, paid off the very last amounts of credit card debt. Gone. Poof. Vanished. Done. At midnight, the bank will wire our last payments and we are free and clear. . .

. . .to now put all of that money in 403B retirement accounts and 529 education plans and that lovely house I told you about.

But before all of that, I am going to get a coke. At 9:58 p.m. A real Coke. Not a diet Coke (which I dearly love), but a real, live, sugar filled, caffeine drenched Coke.

I'm livin' la vida loco, y'all. . .and I'm doin' it debt free.

The Gauntlet, down it has been thrown . . .

2006-11-28T18:34:00.000-06:00

My ponderings from last night have elicited a request from Denise of West Texas. . .I was askin' about Blogger and commented on what I'd heard regarding WordPress. . .and Stephanie (who uses WordPress, and very beautifully I might add) said the following. . .

Wordpress is easy, and you can import all your blogger posts so it's like you were always with wordpress. Plus, with wordpress you can see stats, and blogger doesn't (unless you add your own code) :)

So, Stephanie or any other WordPress/TypePad/Beta Blogger users. . .fell free to weigh in and answer Denise's questions. I already know that Mouse CAN-NOT-STAND Beta Blogger. . .read it on her blog. . .

Denise says. . .Alright, I want a discussion. What are stats? Is that like my site Meter stats? What's Beta Blogger? Have we all switched? Will it stop me from having to put in my name and password EVERY TIME? Girls, I'm old and lost in the computer world...
6:11 PM

By the way. . .

2006-11-27T20:31:00.000-06:00

What is the deal with Blogger REALLY PUSHING the new "Beta Blogger?" I couldn't get to the dashboard today until I had first clicked "No--I really am not interested in Beta Blogger."

I hear wonderful things about Wordpress, but it took me so long to learn Blogger, I'm not interested in packing up and moving until this summer

Just in case

2006-11-27T18:58:00.000-06:00

. . .you, like Stephanie, are in need of a little snow, head on over to

http://www.popularfront.com/snowdays/ . The page will load, then click on "make your own snowflake." Use your mouse to make "cuts." You will be able to see what your snowflake looks like over to the left.

I swanee--it's incredibly addictive. My friend sent this to me a couple of years ago. Thought you might like it. I haven't done any in over a year, but if you'd like to see my creations for today, click on "search for a snowflake" or something like that in the lower left corner, type in Roxanne, Texas, and 11/27/06. You should then have 6 snowflakes for your viewing enjoyment. It's pretty. It's fun. And it's better for you than eating chips.

On a similar note--the forecast for today was no rain, high of 78. It didn't get above 65 and has been raining since 9:00 this morning. If it were as cold here as it is in Steph's neck of the woods, we would most DEFINITELY be getting some of the white stuff.

Time to go and be responsible.

Etc.

2006-11-26T20:42:00.000-06:00

Tonight's walk. . .17 minutes, 25 seconds at a slow pace so as to escape the calf blow torch effect.

Things spotted on said walk. . .a lovely hot pink hibiscus in full bloom next to 5 different pink rose bushes. . .from light pink all the way to vivid fuschia, a small grouping of half eaten fried chicken wings on the sidewalk, lots of people hanging Christmas lights, no horrifically large birds with intestinal issues.

I have been trying to reclaim the house one bit at a time. It's still not so hot, but the kitchen can be navigated and the children's floors are clear.

Victoria got a phone call from her friend Abby today. She and Abby became friends in kindergarten, and though they don't go to the same school, they still love to get together and play. For some reason these girlies just click. So this afternoon Victoria made a surprise for Abby--a note written in cursive. I saw it tonight when I was putting clothes away. . .I thought it very wise for an 8 year old. . .her punctuation and spelling are intact.

"Abby,

Me and you, together are like one big team. Together we can do things we cannot do aloune."

So to all of you friends that read this. . .the ones I've met and the ones I've not. . .and especially certain ones of you--you know who you are--we are like one big team. . .together we can do things we cannot do alone. :)

And even more. . .

2006-11-25T15:32:00.000-06:00

"Thad, where are your pants?"

"In duh bafwoom"

"Why, boy?"

"Momma, sometimes kids just like to flow with nature. . ."

(Much to her Daddy's chagrine.)

A discussion about colors

2006-11-25T15:06:00.000-06:00

Victoria wanted to use the easle today (from Santa two Christmases ago. . .and Santa got it for $19.99 at IKEA). The following is what takes place in our house, car, tub, upstairs, back yard, couch, etc. on a daily basis. . .little machine gun bursts of dendrytes and conversation. . .Thad and I joined in at intervals.

"Mommy, I just found out what makes that ugly green color!!! Green and orange."

"I think it's moss green."

"Yeah, that gwoss gween is called camofwauge gween. . .actuawy it's not gwoss owuh ugwy. . .it's just camofwauge."

Wow Mommy! I made another type of green--another ugly green--it's orange and purple! It's a little darker.

"Yes, that's forrest green."

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, dat's a nice name. . .you haven't mixed puple and gween."

"Well, Thad, I've mixed all of the primary colors and I'm just playing with the secondary ones."

"Oh, I made a color that is unknown. I mixed purple and orange and got a very, very, very dark maroon. Daddy would like it. It's Arnold's color. (Tony's school is Arnold--the colors are maroon and gold.) Oh. . .Anthony. . .Arnold . . .Anthony. . .Arnold. . .that's good. I'm gonna need to get a piece of paper. I need to do some graphics. Yes, I need to do some graphics even though I don't know what 'graphics' is." (I think she meant graph.)

Later. . .chalk squeaking on the black board side. . .

"Thad, that's very good. I can see your process."

"What's pwocess?"

"That means your work."

From what I can tell, Victoria is drawing the seven continents and Thad is coloring them in with chalk. She is explaining to Thad that North America is, indeed, connected to South America.

An explosion of artistic learning in my little kitchen. There is silence now--they need to let the dendrytes connect.

And so it goes. . .

2006-11-24T17:34:00.000-06:00

The week has gone quickly. . .and we've enjoyed it. We have watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" at least 5 times, and eaten our weight in turkey and pumpkin crunch--played board games at Nana and Papaw's house, played Turkey Ball (my husband and his high school friends began having a Turkey Bowl and Donut Scarf 21 years ago when they were about 17--the tradition continues, though now it's the offspring who are playing--the founders prefer to coach), had a cold that I could actually nurse without missing school, sort of reclaimed my kitchen and laundry area, talked to my mother on the phone about 6 times. A busy and enjoyable week for sure.

Darkness is falling outside--the kids and Tony are in the back yard--he is mending crab nets so when he tries to catch some tomorrow they don't escape. Victoria is raking leaves into a pile while wearing her candy cane pajamas. Thad is sitting in the grass playing with a Chinese Yo-Yo--the paper ones that snap back--now he's just beating it on the ground and waving it to and fro--possibly imagining his own Nascar race. . .time to fix dinner--hug children--take care of the husband.

Hope you had a good week too.

Don'tcha just love it when. . .

2006-11-22T17:37:00.000-06:00

. . .you are supposed to make 3 pies, but when you go to bake them you remember that you only have 1 (one) pie plate?

And all this after I SWORE I would not go ANYWHERE today. . .

Even more of the same

2006-11-22T16:32:00.000-06:00

4:25 p.m. House an indescribably mess. . .pies needing to bake-2. . .other desserts I WANT to make--1. . .gallons of tea to brew--4. Tony is splitting wood in the back yard with the kids runnig around him in circles. . .I keep picking up bits and pieces of junk at random intervals. I've not made such headway yet that I can tell it. You know how when your house is REALLY messy. . .and you clean it up. . .then you leave the room and come back later and are surprised that it is so straight? Yeah--that hasn't happened yet.

I do not want tomorrow to be Thanksgiving. Not that I don't want to give thanks/be thankful/spend ALL DAY WITH MY IN-LAWS. . .but that means it's Thursday, and as everyone knows, Thursday runs seamlessly into Friday which means the weekend will be here before I know it which leads us to another Sunday night (which I do not like).

I'm supposin' it would help if I stopped blogging every three or four hours. Yes? No? Yes.

Hmmmmm.

Just So Stephanie has PUH-LENTY to read when she gets home

2006-11-22T12:03:00.000-06:00

Seeing as how I am home (sort of) all week and how I can blog every single second of my day if I so choose. I have chosen. Stephanie is visiting the in-laws and has requested (tongue in cheek) that I not write so much. . .but I cannot help myself. It's just so fun to sit down and fire off a message full of nothing in particular. . .addictive. . .like the gingersnaps from World Market.

So, the latest installment before I go and eat lunch (BooMama's Southern Living Recipe for Red Beans and Rice that Tony made yesterday while I was power shopping and which I hope I can actually TASTE), here is the weather in Houston. Sarah called me on the carpet. . .

Sarah wrote to me TODAY. . .in my ILLNESS. . .

Okay, just to give you grief -- you told Stephanie it was supposed to be cold this week? I'm most curious, because we're supposed to be close to 80* on Thanksgiving day, with temperatures all week not much cooler than that. So I check Houston's forecast, wondering what northern blast of arctic air will cool it off so w/o getting to Abilene. Your forecast is the same -- highs close to 80 and lows close to 50? That's cold? You really have to move north!

:-)Sarah

So, I wrote back. . .

Well. . .the last time I watched the weather BEFORE I got sick. . .it was going to be in the low to mid 30's at night and in the mid to high 60's during the day. We had frost on our grass and our roof until 9:00 yesterday morning--which IS cold for here--but then last night, 'ole Neal Frank told us that the forecast of cold nights was changing and that it would not get any lower than the mid 40's overnight--and that we could expect upper 70's-80 today. I expect the peach trees that just lost their leaves to begin sprouting buds any second. They will do that all winter. We like to keep 'em guessin.' So we WERE looking forward to cooler weather--alas--Houston has proved again to be the fickle mistress we all know her to be--cold one second and hot the next.

:)Roxanne

And there you have it. . .hijinx for teachers on Thanksgiving break--a duel of words regarding unseasonably warm weather--and it's really not all that unseasonable for Texas seeing as how we've had snow on Christmas Eve and a high on 75 on Christmas day. . .

Thad is laying across me begging to play Hotwheels.com. . .he is lacing his leg through my lap while trying to climb between the computer key-board and me. . .AND he has yellow silly putty in his hand and a tank top on.

Check back later for mor scintilating insights into my day. . .

Exercise and Cold update

2006-11-21T21:57:00.000-06:00

I am still sick. . .and it's moving into my chest. . .which it always does. . .ask Sarah.

I did not "go walking" today. . .rather I went:

to our financial advisor (he did NOT laugh at us--we are so happy)
to get the kid's from my in-laws
home to eat lunch
to World Market for really good ginger snaps for Christmas presents
to Pappasitos for a gift card
to Toys R Us for a game
to IKEA (imagine an echo here for the cavernous size)
home on I-10 in 4:35 traffice
to Family Dollar for a Transformer
to Pet Co for crickets and turtle food
to Target (lots of stuff)
to Walmart cause Target was woefully low on the deoderant we prefer (lots of stuff and food)
BACK to Target for the prescription I forgot
home to have a very late supper and drink some liquids

All of that took 7 hours. . .that's right. . .7 hours!!!!!! I left shortly before 2:00 and got back shortly after 9:00. I did it so I would not have to go ANYWHERE tomorrow or Thursday or Friday or Saturday. IKEA in and of itself was exercise enough--ask Stephanie--it's like Super WalMart on steroids with two floors and no aisles so you have to meander through the ENTIRE thing. And it is a wonderful place to shop, but oh. my. goodness. So, I am considering all of that back and forth and to and fro while pushing heavily laden shopping carts my exercise.

(past) Time for more Nyquil.

While I wait

2006-11-20T22:08:00.000-06:00

While I wait for Tony to get on his pj's, I might as well tell you all that I have a cold. . .an annoying, nose running, sneezing loudly, raw-lipped cold. It wasn't so bad until this afternoon. . .'til I realized that my allergy tablet was not working so it must, indeed, be a cold. Good thing, 'cause if that was bird poo earlier, I certainly didn't smell it.

Of course, I barely tasted our mostly free dinner too. . .I got the gist but had to rely on Tony to tell me if it was truly as good and flavorful as I imagined. We stopped on the way home to get a jug of orange juice, some kleenex with lotion, and some Nyquil liquicaps. . .that's my remedy for any cold--actually it's oj, crackers, Nyquil/Dayquil, and chocolate icecream if you happen to have any or can talk someone into getting it for you.

We are going to watch a teeny bit of a movie, during which I will fall asleep, then wake up to haul my weary bones to bed. . .no kids in the house but a cold arrived in their stead. Bummer.

Update on the Exercise Program

2006-11-20T17:56:00.000-06:00

So I go out for my first walk of the season tonight. . .I stretch. . .well. . .and I take off at a fairly slow pace for me--long strides--arms up and moving. Not even a good 5 minutes into it, my right outside calf muscle feels as though it has a blow torch with it's name on it--I slow down a little to see if that helps. It does. . .so I continue at my slower pace.

And then it starts burning again--really, really burning like "you need to stop now, now, now right this very second, NOW" burning. So I slow down even more and decide that I will a) go to the chiropractor tomorrow to get my hips straightened out--which is probably the cause of the blow torch feeling, b) stretch THREE TIMES A DAY until I've gotten back in the swing of things, and c) continue to walk at a slow pace to work out the burn before I get home.

I arrive at our neighborhood park. There is no sidewalk around the park, but I don't really want to walk across the street and I think that walking on the grass might be better at this juncture than walking on the concrete. The park is manicured--grass freshly cut--it is spongy, thick grass, and I have taken about four steps in it before I realize that the spongy is water, and just then my left foot lands in what can only be described as a very, very, very muddy with thick, slimy mud puddle. I guess a water main broke under there, because we haven't had rain in over a week. My shoe is covered with really, really, slimy dark mud. My other shoe is drenched with just icky water, and at this point I decide to throw in the towel. I mean, seriously. . .

So I get home and ring the doorbell. Tony answers the door and immediately looks at my mud-drenched shoe and says, "What is that? Bird poop?" I reply, "No, it's mud. Open the garage door." And in the time it took him to get to the garage and push the button, I had a moment for the following thought to dawn--breaking over me like a wave on the ocean. . .

EXACTLY WHAT SIZE BIRD WOULD IT HAVE TAKEN TO COMPLETELY COVER MY LEFT ATHLETIC SHOE IN POO?????

I'm not sure, but I AM sure that I don't care to get close enough to it to let it poop on me or my shoe--especially if my foot is actually IN my shoe.

My nod to A.A. Milne: In which I announce my intentions regarding holiday poundage

2006-11-20T15:40:00.000-06:00

So, here's the deal. I could stand to lose some weight. . .in fact. . .my body demands it. Alas, this is not the time of year for that. I could REALLY decide that I WILL in fact lose weight despite that it's Thanksgiving week and I am in charge of mashed potatoes and I make REALLY good mashed potatoes.

My answer? Give up on actually LOSING weight until after Thanksgiving is over. . .and I do mean completely over. . .including left overs. That would be like Saturday this coming Saturday. THEN work on losing a couple of pounds before Christmas. My other goal is to not GAIN any more weight between now and Saturday. How, exactly, to I propose to do that?

Exercise, my friends, exercise. If I cannot make the weight magically disappear, I can atleast walk off the excess calories I take in each day. That there is my plan. . .a two mile minimum walk each and every day this week. . .and we have a weather forecast that is primed and ready for that.

Off I go. . .so I can go to Outback Steak House tonight--but Tony and I are splitting the entree. :)

Stay Home and Play Day

2006-11-20T13:05:00.000-06:00

When Victoria was 4 she started going to pre-school. She only went two days each week, and even though she could NAME all the days of the week, she wasn't so good at identifying exactly which day it actually was. So we had other names: Churchday, Stayhomeandplayday, Gotoschoolday, Gymnasticsday, Gotoschoolday, Stayhomeandplayday.

Today is Stayhomeandplayday. . .sort of. We have to take the kids to Ed and Ruthann's tonight, because tomorrow is Gotothefinancialplannersohecanlaughatourfutureplansday. We also have a gift card to Outback Steak House from our friends for whom we babysat a couple of weeks ago. I think they felt badly that Thomas got sick, but since none of us got sick it was no big deal. Either way, Tony and I have a free dinner and an empty house this evening. . . but we've been doing some hit and miss cleaning today in and amongst times of total non-productivity which involved me being introduced to the wonders of YouTube. I had seen several little pieces on other's blogs from YouTube but didn't know they actually would have stuff I really like over there. Somehow I ran across this Ben Taylor video which led me to a Livingston and James Taylor video which led me to several James Taylor videos. I was in Taylor Boy heaven!!!!

I don't believe I've ever truly gone into detail about how much I really, really, really, really like James Taylor. I would go into detail as to WHY I like James Taylor so much. . .but I'd sound like one of those groupies who stands in line for hours to go to every single concert. . .and really I'm just groupie enough to have seen him only once in concert and to have worn out about three or four cassette tapes over the years. . .maybe five. . .until I got smart and bought some cd's. So when I heard his son was out and about, I was intrigued to hear how much he sounds like his dad. . .and then there is the little clip of James and Livingston (his brother) Taylor together and they TOTALLY sound alike--except that Livingston appears to be a lot goofy, and James has sort of an understated reservedness about him.

Anyway--if you can get past the flip/flop/henna tatoo, the long early 70's hair, and the deck shoes and late '80's striped shirt on Livingston, AND you enjoy an acoustic guitar in the hands of someone who knows what to do with one, then it will be worth your 15 minutes to listen to Ben, the brothers, and James alone. Who knew YouTube was for me?

I am off to clean up some more and make myself presentable for the masses.

Second installment of Nothing

2006-11-19T19:31:00.000-06:00

Remember way back to 19late80-orearly90somethings? Remember the R.E.M. song "Shiny, Happy People?" It went something like, "Shiny, happy people having fun. . ." Well, there should be a new song for grocery stores around the holidays, "Hungry, Grumpy People" that goes "Hungry, grumpy people buying food." I'm not even kidding. A saw a man slam some diet Cokes down so hard I though they might explode. Really, really hard. He was not happy. . .and he didn't have much food. . .which may have been why he wasn't happy. But from his very loud diatribe directed at the store manager, it seemed as though he was particularly grumpy that someone in the express lane went back three different times to get things she forgot.

I'd have been a little miffed myself. . .

But. . .I had a roast and two happy kiddos waiting for me at home, so I just bought my goods and went on my merry way.

The roast is done. The cake is in the oven. Time to eat.

Just NO-thing

2006-11-19T17:43:00.000-06:00

So there is NOTHING for me to blog--not one thing that is of interest, quirky, funny, thought-provoking--nothing. I, unlike Jerry Seinfeld, cannot do a blog about nothing. . .I could quote funny lines from Seinfeld, but you just really don't get those unless you saw them--which I did WAY back before I had kids. . .even though I didn't really like Seinfeld. I preferred Mad About You--which I found on some obscure half fuzzy channel on my t.v. this week--it was after they had the baby and Paul and Jamie were in counseling for some reason and he whacked the therapist in the nose with a golf club he insisted on carrying with him everywhere he went--funny stuff.

No. Right now all I have going on is a roast in the crock pot and a quick trip to Kroger to get some eggs so I can make a cake I don't need to eat. I don't plan on eating it alone--my family requested it. . .and it's a good one. So, in the vein of recipes I've been dotting on here lately, here's another. And I got the incredible cranberry orange cake recipe from my student and will share it later. The cake one I've got memorized.

(Out of habit, I don't normally say the first word in the title of the cake. . .one night I was spelling it for Tony, but I was tired and so it came out "D-A-arn." That's what we he and I call it. The kids don't call it anything--they are too busy eating it.)

Darn Good Chocolate Cake

1 box Duncan Hines chocolate fudge or devil's food cake mix
1 C. sour cream
1 regular package chocolate instant pudding
4 eggs
1/2 C. oil
1/2 C. water
1 1/2 C. mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

Mix everything together except the chocolate chips. It'll be thick. Stir in chocolate chips with a spoon. (It called for regular chips--but I find as thick as the batter is they still fall to the bottom). Grease and flour (or use cocoa powder rather than flour) a bundt pan. Pour in the batter and cook at 350 for about an hour. You can't really tell it's done by sticking a tooth pick in it--too much melty chocolate--so you will have to give it the pressure test. Serve hot with vanilla icecream and an EMT on standby. There is a really, really rich chocolate sauce you can put on the top. . .and Tony likes the cake "all the way"--but it's not for the faint of heart. I will post it in case you're feelin' lucky. . .or you could use it on something not so potent.

Martha's Chocolate Icing

1 C. sugar
5 tbsp butter
1/3 C. whole milk
1 C. chocolate chips (this time use regular ones. . .the mini ones don't melt well)

Put sugar, butter, and milk into a pan. Cook over high heat, stirring constantly 3-4 minutes until it comes to a boil. Continue to stir constantly and boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat, pour in chocolate chips, and stir until the chocolate is melted. It is VERY runny but hardens up as it cools--it will develop a "crust" in the pan while it cools--or you can drizzle it over something.

Really good.

Off to clog an artery. . .

You'd never know

2006-11-16T22:41:00.000-06:00

that I was language arts department chair at my jr. high school and that I have been a teacher for 15 years. So I CHOSE to write an entire entry to tell you that my daughter was, indeed, CHOSEN as Good Citizen. . .and not CHOSE as Good Citizen as stated in the previous entry.

Just couldn't let it go with a simple correction.

It's still cold. And late. (My language arts/teacher/department chair experience is only offended by improper usage. . .but not by sentence fragments or excessive punctuation.)

What?

2006-11-16T17:30:00.000-06:00

This morning Thad came downstairs wearing a pair of black shorts and his orange motorcycle
t-shirt. It was 43 degrees outside. I told him it was cold and that he would need to wear long pants today. And he said,

"Mommy, I KNOW what I am doing. I NEED to wear my short-sleeved pants today."

I sent him outside to test out his theory of knowing what he's doing. . .and he didn't even make from the sidewalk to the grass. He STILL wanted to wear the "short-sleeved" pants. . .but I had a little more clout after the wind came whipping around the house.

And did I mention that Victoria has straight A's for the second time this year AND was *chosen* (correction, see post above this one) as "Good Citizen" for the 2nd 6 weeks??? Well, now I have. :)

Redemption

2006-11-16T09:59:00.000-06:00

Time to redeem myself for my rant last night. I give you an entry full of autumnal colors AND a recipe that I have not personally made but HAVE partaken of. I promise you this. . .it TASTES like Yankee Candles SMELL. You know how you pop the lid off those candles and you can almost feel the warmth of the kitchen and cold air outside. . .well this is THAT dessert.

Pumpkin Crunch

1 16 oz can solid pack pumpkin
1 12 oz can evaporated milk
3 eggs
1 ½ cups sugar
4 tsp pumpkin pie spice
½ tsp salt
1 pkg moist deluxe yellow cake mix
1 cup unsalted butter or margarine
1 cup pecan pieces

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease bottom of 9X13 pan.
Combine pumpkin, evaporated milk, eggs, sugar, pumpkin pie spice & salt in a large bowl - mix well, pour into greased pan.
Sprinkle dry cake mix evenly over pumpkin mixture, top with pecans.
Drizzle with melted butter.
Bake for 50-55 minutes or until golden brown.
Cool completely, then refrigerate.

Note: the sprinkling 1 C. of butter over dry cake mix looks just like my dump cake (or for Sarah EASY COBBLER) recipe. I normally just use 1 stick (1/2 C.) butter and slice it thin and put it around on the top. I let the oven do the melting. Of course, the version I ate had the whole stinkin' cup of melty, drizzly, cardiac arrest inducing butter adorning it. . .so who am I to go messin' with perfection?

It is certainly not lacking in the calorie department. . .but oh, the joy of a dessert that can only be rightfully enjoyed during the fall of the year. Here's wishing you some actual cold weather to enhance the enjoyment.

(WARNING THIS POST IS NEITHER FOR THE FAINT OF HEART NOR THE SHORT ON TIME OR PATIENCE. I JUST NEEDED A FORUM)

2006-11-15T20:42:00.000-06:00

If I were Boomama or A.A. Milne, I would have named this post something clever like, "In which I vent so much smoke that the fire department shows up at my door." Instead, I will simply repeat what I am tired of hearing. . .

"You need to learn to say no."

If I could only count the number of times I've heard that this past week, well, I could probably fill an entire blog with those words alone. People see me rushing hurriedly about and say, "Boy! You look busy." What am I supposed to say? "No--really I find that being harried and feeling like my blood pressure is about to burst a vein in my head is the way I'm most comfortable." So instead I say, "Yes. I am." To which EVERYONE inevitably says, "You need to learn to say no."

Of course--those are normally the same people who don't pipe up to take the jobs that I am so busily running around doing. . .but that's another blog.

I, in fact, don't need to learn to say no. I say it very well. It's a small word. I even say really big words very well AND know their definitions. I astound my students every year by being able to say supercalifragilisticexpealidocious backwards. . .atleast the Mary Poppins version of backwards. I'm pretty sure that saying it REALLY backwards would either be impossible or vulgar, so I stick to her rendition and merely say dociousaliexpeisticfragicalirupus. I can even say it quickly--without spitting. But, I digress.

My point? Oh, yes. . .my point was that I am perfectly capable of saying no. But when I say it, people look at me at though I have cursed--or spat upon their newborn--or stepped on a puppy for fun. The look--I cannot describe it. I say, "No. I am really busy." To which I hear the proverbial, "Aren't we all?" And what I want to say is, "Okay sister--break out your list. . .'cause I'm pretty sure I've got ya whipped." But I don't. I say, "Yeah. It's tough." And then I spend the next 24-48 hours feeling guilty about saying no to them and wondering exactly what I could cut out of my schedule--atleast when I have time to feel guilty and wonder. . .it's stealth guilt. I all of a sudden find myself in a moment of solitude and relaxation (see denial) and think, "What do I need to do right now?" and there's where the stealth sneaks in.

So here is what I'm sayin' no to. Today I was asked to be on a committee at school. I said no. I said I am already doing too much at school. This particular look had a you-might-as-well-have-flashed-your-naked-hee-haws-at-me quality to it. I did not list for them what I am currently doing, so I will list it for you.

At school I teach. . .6 classes. Three of those classes are "on-level" (yeah, right) and two are workshop classes. One is a tutorial homeroom. Workshop classes contain children who have failed our state standardized test one-three times last spring and either barely made it or were "placed" (see failed but are too old to retain again) in 6th grade. People want to rant and rave about why we pass kids that can't read. . .well, I have a girl name Lauren in my 1st period class. She repeated 2nd grade. She repeated 4th grade. She has been tested twice for special education services. Both times she did not qualify. That means that her IQ is so low, that she is functioning to her potential and therefore there is place for her in special education, so she is placed back in "on-level" classes. She was finally diagnosed as dyslexic last year--but I think it's really just a low IQ rather than dyslexia. Lauren can't read on a 6th grade level. Lauren can't read on a 3rd grade level. And Lauren will NEVER EVER be retained again, because she will be 14 in March--that's right--FOURTEEN at the end of 6th grade. She's a sweet girl. She is, maturity wise, on a 6th grade level. But she will never ever be successful in school. There is no spot for her but the very precarious one between the proverbial rock and hard place--there is a crack with her name on it awaiting her arrival so she can fall through it. I am determined that not happen. . .but there is only so much I can do in these 9 months I have with her. Especially when it took me 15 weeks to find out all of the above information. Students are like babies--they don't come with directions. . .I would be so much more effective if each one arrived with a list of disabilities, hardships, home life issues, and preferences.

Again. . .digression.

Back to my list.

I am an official mentor for one student, but an unofficial mentor for probably 8-10 of my kids. I am an official mentor for a brand spankin' new baby teacher. I am the content area team leader for all of 6th grade reading. I am the Interdisciplinary team leader for one of the four groups of 6th graders at our school. There are 540 6th graders in all. I am a 7th grade homeroom tutorial teacher (which is when I'm supposed to do my IDT stuff, but they ran out of teachers, so I got it even though I don't teach 7th grade). I tutor two days each week after school. I have two parents that I need to call and I forgot to give tutoring slips to three kids today so they can stay after school tomorrow. I was supposed to be in three places at the same exact time yesterday between 2:40 and 3:20 at school--two different staffings for two different students AND a team intervention for a kid that is failing 5 classes whom I don't teach but I was the person responsible for running said meeting.

I am Brownie craft mom.

I organized ladies' day at church that I was unable to attend due to being a wife, a mother, and a daughter and sister-in-law. I am helping to coordinate VBS again this summer. I am slated to teach ladies' class each week this summer. I am SUPPOSED to be sending cards to the sick and shut-ins--but that hasn't gotten done. I got kicked off of the nursery roster for failing to show one time. I am supposed to help with Bible Hour in December and June.

We finally, after many years of saying we should do so, signed the kids up for soccer this fall. I am the team manager for Victoria's team.

Needless to say, several things that are my job in the mom/wife/human being department go by the wayside. I cannot begin to list the things I fail to do on a daily basis. . .or what I had to do to get Victoria a clean pair of panties to wear to school today.

This very day consisted of the following: just getting out the door. . .and minutes before that Victoria crying because she hurt in the direction of her pubic bone--which I was pretty sure was a urinary tract infection--got to school, got my kids started on a test, called the dr. to make an appt. for her--got one at 9:40. My planning times and lunch time and homeroom that I team teach happened to all be overlapped today due to an unusual schedule because of an assembly. . .so I was able to run to the office, get the okay to leave without having to get a sub, find someone to cover five minutes of a class--go to Tony's school to get the girl's booster seat, go to Victoria's school to pick her up (stopped and got her water on the way so she could pee on command), got to the doctor's office, saw him, went to the lab, was glad I got her the water, got her back to her school, and got back to my school 20 minutes before my next class period and just in time to catch the last 10 minutes of a department meeting. This afternoon was Brownies and V. and I got home at 6:00. . .meanwhile the dr. called and there is no infection which is great. Tony left to go to a meeting at 6:15. I made sure the kids ate dinner--got baths and homework and a bedtime story and some tickling and kissing all crammed in--started a load of laudry and sat down to write this little diddy.

Now. Exactly what is the dead wood that can be cut from my very overloaded schedule? All the things listed are good. All the things listed need to be done. Many of the things listed would go undone were I not doing them.

So here is what I decided this past weekend after I took a three hour nap in a tent on a blow up mattress due to exhaustion while everyone else was sitting under the trees having fun.

I am going to tell Susan L. that I cannot help with Bible hour. I am going to tell the card lady to stop wasting the church's stamp sending me a list of people to get cards to. I am going to tell the gal who is in charge of finding a teacher for ladies' Bible class that I will not do it this summer. . .no, not even to substitute or fill in. I am turning down any new requests at school that are not absolutely necessary (and EVERYONE feels that their request is necessary). I have already asked for and received Fridays and Mondays off from my tutorial class so that I can take care of team issues that are pressing. I am not going to any workshops, book studies, or extracurricular activities at school. I am not on any committees at school this year. I am not attending any seasonal parties.

What am I keeping? I LOVE being Brownie craft mom. . .crazy, I know. But I like knowing Victoria's friends at school, and it FORCES me to do things with her that would and have and do fall by the wayside at home. . .like teaching her (and 12 other 2nd and 3rd graders) how to sew on buttons. I will help with VBS again this summer. It is a huge project, but I have a great partner and it is a job that takes a lot of prep, but after the week is done, it's done. Soccer season is over December 2, and that job hasn't been too taxing anyway. I will miss teaching ladies' class, but it ties us down every week during the summer.

What do I want to do? Well, besides crawling into a nice, dark hole and pulling it in after me, I want to spend more time with my kids. I want to read the Bible daily. I want to get my photo albums done. I want to make my workshop classes at school as valuable as I can. I want to be able to relax at home and on weekends. I want to eat better, lose weight, exercise, and go to bed at the same time every night. I want to find a place to do yoga again and not feel guilty for spending the money to go and do it.

Pretty clear cut goals no? Well, I'll keep you posted on how I'm doing. In the mean time. . .I'm not depressed. I'm not disgruntled. I'm just trying to find the "happy medium" which is really pretty non-existent but worth looking for none-the-less. I have all of the skills and experience I need to make these things happen. . .it's just a matter of clearing away the underbrush so I can quit putting out fires.

I feel right now that I should list all of my blessings--which abound and are many and enjoyed on a daily basis. I am also quite sure that some of you have lists of things to do that would put mine to shame--not to mention other issues that I have never had to nor, hopefully, ever will have to deal with. I just needed to vent. . .to blow off the steam that has kept me from blogging since last week--which is something else I love to do. The blogging part. . .not the blowing off steam part.

And now--I'm off to fold that load of laundry. And try not to feel guilty for whining to all of you. And then I will go to bed too late so that I can spend some time with Tony when he gets home. Tomorrow I get up and go at it again.

To quote Forrest Gump, "And that's all I have to say about that." You can say whatever you like. . .but don't feel compelled to comment. As Tony told me once, "A vent only blows one way--out."

For a little comic relief from my fussin'--got to Rebecca's blog and see the things her precious children have said recently.

Must. . .be. . .creative. . .

2006-11-15T20:09:00.000-06:00

I have been absent, I know. It's mainly because the list of things I've either done or been involved in or half way done but not well enough in the last week is long enough to choke a horse. . .and right now I have to help Victoria wash her hair. . .but I'll be back.

Stream of Consciousness Potpourri

2006-11-08T21:15:00.000-06:00

I have several blog thoughts running through my brain:

the newly arrived arthritis in my right pinky finger
in-laws
baby showers
my kids
my husband
some of my students
how God always (ALWAYS) provides me a friend at work (EVERY single time)

But I have to go and hem blankets for the baby shower after teaching my students all day, attending a two hour meeting after school with my teacher friend, coming home to take care of my husband and kids, and having my right pinky finger hurt. The in-laws? Well, we're all going camping this weekend so that is just sort of. . .

In the meantime, go and visit Stephanie and Sarah to read some poetry and see a solution born of necessity that I'd forgotten I even came up with. If you need some humor, might I suggest visiting Rebecca and reading two of her four year old twin girl's conversations which makes this entry all the more understandable.

Elocution

2006-11-05T18:55:00.000-06:00

Just where is Henry Higgins when you need him? We never had Henry Higgins. . .but we did have Gayla for one year. She was Thad's speech therapist from the ages of 2 to 3 years. She was patient and kind and Thad loved her AND made an 18 month gain in his speech development during his year with her. He was released from speech due to his rapid gains and the fact that his speech was that of an average 3 year old.

If you've been reading my blog, then from my description of Thad's verbage, you can tell that speech is again on the horizon of his little world. He comes by it naturally--Tony had problems for a long time when he was young. Thad can't quite make is "l's" and "r's" behave. He is getting better at his "th's" and "sh's", but we do a lot of compensating for him.

Here is a conversation that took place on Friday night as Tony and Thad played "Batman vs. Catwoman Legos."

Thad is looking at the picture of Catwoman (adequately clothed, mind you) and says,

"I wost huh wip."

Tonys says,

"You lost her rip?"

"No. Huh wip."

"Her lip???"

"NO!!!! Huh WIP!!!"

"You lost her rip or her lip?"

"Daddy, I wost huh WUH-IP."

Light bulb appears over Tony's head.

"OH!!!!! You lost her WHIP!!!!!!!!!"

Then he turns to me and says, "I was compensating when none was needed."

And just what would Catwoman be without her whip?

SOUNDS disgusting, TASTES divine

2006-11-04T21:16:00.000-06:00

I grew up in a family of cooks. There is not a bad one in the bunch--from my Grandaddy to my own Daddy to my Momma and her Momma and everyone in between. We can take very few ingredients and make a wonderfully filling meal. We can take something that we measured completely wrong and fix it on the fly. My mother recently demolished a dessert. . .a sugar free lemon icebox pie in a graham cracker crust. I can't remember exactly how it happened--but the crust sort of got mixed in with the lemon filling, so she put it into muffin cups and served it anyway. Three people asked her for the recipe. . .WE CAN COOK. But when Tony and I first got married, I made what is known in the food world as a flop. I had gotten several cookbooks. . .and in an effort to use them, I found a recipe that looked like something Tony would enjoy.

In the Watts household, our refrigerator was filled with many strange and exotic things. . .the carcass of a deer in mid-processing, ducks that had just been scalded and picked, ground beef from cows that had been grazing in our pasture just a few days hence, 7-Up salad, wild duck dressing (and you felt like the lucky one if you found a piece of buckshot in your serving). But one thing I NEVER, EVER, EVER remember seeing in our fridge was sour cream.

Then I moved to Texas and was introduced to the world of TexMex and the many wonderful merits of sour cream. Tony and his sister in particular enjoy sour cream. . .Daisy brand, thank you. So when I saw a recipe for homemade sour cream macaroni and cheese, well it seemed to be something Tony would really enjoy.

Oh. My. Goodness. We tried to eat it--really we did. We were young, and newlywed, and poor, and hungry. . .but it just could not be eaten.

Since then I have been VERY careful of the new recipes I try--and I make sure thas sour cream would really and truly be a good addition.

That being said, allow me to introduce you to the SOUR CREAM APPLE PIE.

Before you go gagging, it is just about the most heavenly apple pie you will ever eat in your whole entire life. . .as my co-worker says, "It's the bomb-diggity." The recipe comes from our science teacher, Jim. The first time he handed me a dessert plate with this delicacy and said, "Try it. It's SOUR CREAM APPLE PIE." Well, I words cannot adequately describe the face I made. Nor can they describe how delicious this confection is. I urge you, if you like apple pie, or dessert, or anything really, really yummy to try it out. And it's VERY easy. The recipe follows:

SOUR CREAM APPLE PIE (and I'm not kidding)

4-5 Granny Smith apples, cored, peeled and sliced
1 C. sour cream
1 C. sugar
pinch salt
4 Tbsp. cornstarch or flour to thicken
1 pie crust (I used ready made)

Slap your pie crust in a pie plate. Slice the apples into the crust. Mix the other 4 ingredients together (it will be like pudding) and pour over the apples in the crust. Bake at 350 for one hour. . .you can turn the broiler on the last 4 minutes or so to brown the top if you like. Cool. Cut. Eat. And then you will quit laughing at me for suggesting such an ingredient.

REALLY. REALLY. GOOD. I have eaten several of Jim's pies, and tonight I have made my own. Tony does not yet know the secret ingredient. I will wait until after he eats the pie to tell him.

Addendum to the apple pie. . .
*There is no top crust
*I recommend browning the bottom crust a little before you put the apples and filling in it so it's not pasty
*I also prefer it at room temp. I put the remainder in the fridge last night, and I didn't like it as well cold. . .so you can either warm it up, or just eat it all after you cook it and it cools. :)
*Good Eatin'. . .I will own that our entire pie is already gone. . .it had not even 24 hours on this earth and is wholly consumed.

Lists for a Saturday

2006-11-04T15:40:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was donuts with Dad at Thad's school. Tony didn't get to go seeing as how he spent the morning teaching OTHER people's children. Thad was not upset. He said he would just have donuts with Hunter. PLUS we promised him donuts with us on Saturday.

So off we go this morning.

Victoria made a list of the donuts we cared to consume for our mixed dozen (and my cinnamon twist). I think it was like 1 plain glazed, 2 chocolate iced, 1 white iced with sprinkles, 2 strawberry iced with sprinkles, 1 chocolate iced with sprinkles, 1 blueberry filled, 1 apple filled, 1 strawberry filled, 1 chocoate cream filled, AND 1 cinnamon twist.

We all four trooped into Shipley's bright and early--our little list of Langleys, completed the donut transaction, and headed back out to the car at which time Thad proclaimed his very own list to all within hearing range just in case they cared to know our intentions for the morning.

"We're happy! We're goin' home! And we're eatin' donuts!"

And so we did.

Just thinkin'

2006-10-29T20:39:00.000-06:00

Well, autumn has sort of arrived in Houston. . .just in time for the kids not to TOTALLY burn up at Trunk or Treat tonight before church--not so many sweaty princesses this year, though Thad did shuck his Power Ranger costume earlier than planned. . .and on the way to Trunk or Treat, Victoria made me tell her all of the things she had ever been for Halloween. When I got to the part where she was Baby Bop when she was 18 months, Thad said, "Sistuh, I bet you wuh vewy cute."

Had a friend with a babysitting emergency last night--mother of 16 year old twins and a five year old. . .husband owns his own business. . .they had a shindig to go to, and the twins had homecoming, and Thomas was the fly in the ointment. He came over and a lovely time was had by all until 5:15 this morning when he began throwing up in our sink. The good news is. . .he made it to the sink. The sad news is, I had to call his Momma at 5:15 to come and get him. But the fancy doin's were over, so she and his Daddy were glad to arrive and whisk him away.

We also had a three hour family fun movie on Friday ("Stranded" a new version of "Swiss Family Robinson"--with no ostrich or giraffe but still with pirates), and two soccer games on Saturday, and between all of that and a sleepover and the time change and Trunk or Treat--well, tonight after I got them to sit still--the kids were tired. I was afraid that after all of the excitement and sugar it was going to be one church wide game of "Whack A Mole." As soon as you got one kid down, another would pop right up. . .but they were all tired I suppose, because no one got taken out and the only crying was from the newborns.

At one point we were singing a very lovely multi-part, round-like song called "The Greatest Commandment." The Sunday night crowd was good and so about 400 of us singing acapella in harmony was an amazing thing. . .and even more wonderful than that as we began to sing, Victoria laid her head on my right shoulder, and Thad laid his head on my left, and the contentment that settled over me was a gift of God.

"All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided. . .great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me."

Addendum to below: Conversation Heard this VERY Morning

2006-10-23T08:06:00.000-05:00

6:05 a.m. Two rumpled blond haired children sitting at the top of the stairs

VICTORIA: Thad, do you know what that burning smell means?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

(a very excited )
THAD: Yes!!!!!!!!!!!! It's almost Cwismas time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I must go and buy a Yankee Candle this VERY DAY to light whenever the heater kicks on--one that smells of Yuletide cheer!!!!

Dust Bunnies Roasting on a gas heater flame. . .

2006-10-22T22:15:00.000-05:00

Well, with Halloween only a week and a day away, we are actually SUPPOSED to go below 50 degrees tonight. . .48 is the forecast. Oh, joy!!! It's also cold in Arkansas according to Stephanie.

Sarah has this really funny post about how her kids think that baked potatoes smell like burning dogfood. Well. . .

Friday morning, it got down to 50 degrees outside, which corresponds to a chilly (for Houstonians) 68 degrees INSIDE. I turned on the heater at about 5:30 a.m.--exactly FIVE minutes later Victoria enters my room all sleepy and disheveled looking and says, "Mommy, you know at Christmas time when we have all the lights and mistletoe on the stairs? Well, it smells like that."

So, forget chestnuts roasting on an open fire, sugar cookies baking in the oven, cinnamon scented pinecones on the freshly cut fir tree. . .evidently Victoria thinks the smell of Christmas is dust bunnies in the vents burning up from the heater not being fired since March.

Thad and the Transformers save the Pilgrims

2006-10-21T16:42:00.000-05:00

Okay. . .so I'm not trying to showcase Thad here, but he is on a roll lately.

To engender more autumnal holiday cheer (and 'cause I liked 'em), I bought these

Aren't they cute. . .all nesting and the like. So, I get them out to let the kids play with them today. . .then we have 2 soccer games, etc. They are both loving soccer, but watching his sister's team play is not Thad's favorite way to spend an hour. . .lots of whining about going to the playground ensues. So, today I came prepared with these mini Transformers

'cause it was worth the $3.59 to give him something to do. He enjoyed the Transformers AND the soccer game today. Therefore, I enjoyed the soccer game too.

Now he is in the floor with the Transformers and the holiday decorations singing a song--words and tune of his own creation--that goes something like. . .

"Transformers in the Pilgrim house.
Transformers in the Pilgrim house.
Gonna blow the roof off and safe the Pilgrims.
Gonna blow the roof off (*BOOM*) and save the Pilgrims. . .
In. . . the. . .house. . ."

He continued, but I can't relate the rest. Then he began begging anyone who walked through the room to play Transformers. . .where the other person always gets to be the bad guy. Thad likes to save the Pilgrims, I suppose, while someone else destroys them.

The Transformers will receive double duty in church tomorrow. . .and hopefully in addition to destroying the roofs of Pilgrim dwellings then SAVING the distraught Pilgrims, they will also be able to keep my five year old on the pew. I guess I could do the cost analysis to see if it has truly been worth the $3.59, but I'm sayin' it is/was/will be.

My Boy

2006-10-17T11:32:00.000-05:00

I have a little boy.

He is a carbon copy of his father. . .so it's a good thing I love his daddy and his daddy's quirkiniess so much, 'cause the apple landed RIGHT UNDER that tree.

He is a sweet boy. He loves me. He likes to sleep with my nightgowns because they "smell like mommy" (which is Lavender and Camomile lotion from Johnson and Johnson. . .which is the same thing I used to put on him when he was a baby which is why I started using it--'cause it smelled like my babies).

He tries to use me as a jungle gym in church. We have a discipline plan--but he still tries. Sunday morning we sat in the balcony on a row that had no pew in front of it--just the walkway. At some point during the opening song, he fell (for reasons unknown) from the pew on all fours onto the floor. He is also skinny--so his khakis sort of stuck up in the air above his bottom. He had barely touched the ground before I lifted him bodily, one-handed mind you, by his pooching khakis, back onto the pew accompanied by a stern reprimand. He did, however, give the visitor behind us a thrill, because after church she complimented my one-handed retrieval of the loose boy and said it was all she could do not to faint from holding in her laughter. His Daddy missed the whole thing even though he was on the same pew.

Apple. . .tree.

My boy has a very sensitive fairness meter that only he knows the limits of. You can, without any warning whatsoever, tread upon his sense of fairness causing his shoulders to droop as though laden with the cares of the world. This is normally (and immediately) followed by him flopping face first onto any handy piece of furniture (my lap is also considered a piece of furniture by the inhabitants of my house) or running upstairs to do the same on his bed.

He has a "helper" in his Sunday morning class--a man in his 50's who has to use a walker because of a motorcycle accident he had at the age of 22. He slurs his words and moves slowly. Thad speaks to him after church every Sunday when he sees him. Sometimes the man doesn't notice him at first, but Thad keeps on tugging on his coat sleeve until he gets his attention. Then he waves, and says, "Hi," and gives him a hug.

My boy will walk up to his sister and kiss her on the cheek just because he thinks she looks pretty that day.
("Victoria, be still. I need to kiss you.")

We held him out of kindergarten this year in favor of a bridge class. THANK. GOODNESS. His teacher's whole goal for this school year is just to get him to finish his work in the allotted amount of time. When I told him he needed to work more quickly he said, "My teacher says to do your best,and my best is not fast." He also says, "My hands are slow like my feet." He's really not slow--he just chooses to meander~saunter~sashay through life. Atleast he is self aware.

And on Monday night when he said the prayer for supper, during his conversation with God he said, "And thank you for the good Bible story yesterday. . .and if I was in heaven, I would just look at you, and hug you, and kiss you. . ."

By the grace of God, I have a little boy.

"Have yourself. . .a merry little Christmas. . ."

2006-10-14T22:33:00.000-05:00

No--I have not lost my calendar or my mind. . .but I have begun Christmas shopping in earnest. In fact--Thad is all done. . .from the T-Rex Mountain to the Doodle Monster to the mini Transformers to a minipack of superheroes to add to his collection to a game of HiQ to a couple of things for his stocking and two Christian books about how good little boys should behave. All he needs is a pack of Pez and a dispenser (Christmas tradition dontcha know) and Hershey Santas and a huge candy cane full of M&Ms--two other traditions--all from my own childhood.

Done. . .done. . .done. . .and started on Victoria and done for one nephew and did my mom's shopping for my kids while I was at it.

I just love to be DONE. Now I am not tempted by the siren song of *SALE* *SALE* *SALE*--and no matter WHAT I might see that is just PERFECT--well, I've spent the budget for the boy, so I'm really and truly DONE!!!!!! And the day after Thanksgiving I will be at home hidden away up in my bedroom wrapping Christmas presents so that on Christmas eve all I have to do is sneak said and wrapped presents downstairs to distribute in piles under the tree and then I can have another cup of wassail and make Tony watch "It's a Wonderful Life" even though he does not care for Jimmy Stewart but seeing as how he's so cute and Jimmy Stewart was unavailable at the time, I married him anyway

Okay. . .that's all. I'm just so very, very happy to be DONE!!!!!!

Dis-

2006-10-10T20:09:00.000-05:00

-jointed, -connected, -combobulated. . .and any other dis- words you can think of?

Welcome to the blog of "I shouldn't have had that last couple of bites to eat" and "I'm tired and should really just go to bed on my incredibly full stomach."

More than anything, I'm blogging to keep myself awake. I did, indeed, have one too many bites of seafood salad on a Ritz tonight. . .and I am tired. But Tony has class at church from 8:15-9:30, and I kind of like to be awake to see him when he gets home. I like him, ya know.

So. . .after my "dis-" blog, I am going back to this website to tinker.

As I have told you before, we have plans for a new home in the near future. Near future to us means beginning construction spring or summer of 2008 so by summer of 2009 we are all moved in. . .or at least are ready to move in. We are talking long-term planning for most folks. . .but when you are thinking of an entire house, well, two more years is short term for us.

Until the time comes that we actually break ground, we dream. . .and even in our dream-like state we know that though we have definite opinions of what we like,

we are not interior decorators.

We are a little nervous about how much furniture will fit where, etc. So tonight, on a whim, I did a search for an automatic room designer. . .and low and behold if Better Homes and Gardens didn't deliver.

Should you care to furnish the rooms of your dream house to see if all of your wishes will come true. . .then click on over, and have some good, clean fun.

Now I'm off to play for a bit, then tackle the dishes in an attempt to "work off" some of that seafood salad. Wish me luck.

Not at all what I intended

2006-10-09T22:35:00.000-05:00

I'm still here. . .not much to report. I'm listening to a PBS thing about the freedom riders of the 1960's and how school children who were marching got carried to jail. I don't know as much as I should about Civil Rights. . .some of what I know is tainted by where I was reared.

I'm from the very deep south. In fact, my kids (at school) will hear a story this week about how I saw the evidences of segregation in the town in which I grew up. . .as in when the old one-screened movie theater was being renovated, a large sign was removed from the building. It had been put up there to cover the large painted letters that said, "Colored" and pointed to the entrance that blacks had to use to get to the balcony. And in the back of the old feed and seed store, there were two water fountains. . .side by side. No signs there, but we knew what they had been used for.

I had to explain segregation to Victoria a couple of years ago. She did a report on Rosa Parks in 1st grade. Her teacher, Mrs. Johnson, is an excellent teacher. . .and is black. . .and is from Selma, Alabama. Victoria came home talking about "Dr. King" one day. I'd never realized until that day that I don't ever call him "Dr. King"--I call him "Martin Luther King, Jr." It's a small difference in vernacular, but a noticable one once I realized it. Anyway--Victoria did a report on Rosa Parks.

The funny part was that she did a play in which she, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, white girl played Rosa. And for her bus driver she chose to ask Shane--a dark-haired, brown-eyed African-American boy. He got to tell her she had to give up her seat or he would throw her off the bus or have her arrested. Mrs. Johnson and I both had a good laugh over that one--and a deep sigh over how times have changed.

The sad part was that I had to explain segregation to my 6 year old. The only way I knew to tell her how bad it was, was to say, "A long time ago, Mrs. Johnson couldn't be your teacher, and Shane couldn't be your friend. It would be against the law for Mrs. Johnson to teach you. . .or for me to teach some of the kids I teach."

The good part was that after the explanation Victoria said, "I think that was a very bad idea."

We will read a story this week about Matthew Henson. He was with Robert Peary when he discovered the North Pole. I know there is some controversy about actually who discovered the North Pole and when it was done, but Matthew Henson was there right at the beginning. He was born one year after the Civil War, and was the only member of the party that discovered the North Pole not to receive a commendation. . .because he was black. He wasn't recognized for his contribution until 50 years after the fact. I have to tell some of my kids what it means in the story when Peary refers to Henson as, "My faithful colored boy." I don't have to explain it to the black kids--they know what colored is--but I do have to explain it to everyone else. And that's a good thing--we've come a long way--I see the tensions still, but I also see the changes.

So this was not at all what I intended. . .it just sort of spilled out. . .and to quote Forrest Gump, "And that's all I have to say about that."

You just gotta love it when. . .

2006-10-03T09:18:00.000-05:00

. . .you get back to class after standing in front of over 500 6th graders and their parents for over 40 minutes handing out honor roll ribbons during an awards ceremony and realize that your zipper is undone.

Yup. . .just a little humbling experience for my Tuesday. Thought you might could use some perspective and a laugh.

Cover us. . .we're goin' in.

2006-09-26T19:32:00.000-05:00

I am not an athlete. . .Tony is a competitor, but he's no athlete either. Thad has fallen off the couch twice tonight. He did it the same exact way both times--and not on purpose. Victoria slipped in her sock feet and splatted all over the kitchen floor as soon as she got home and got her shoes off today.

We are not a graceful crew.

So. . .we signed up for soccer. Go figure.

Thad is very excited. Victoria is not as excited but is warming up to the idea. She IS very happy about the whole accessorizing thing. . .shin guards, water bottle, etc. Hot and sweaty--not so much--but she's all about the stuff.

I am pretty confident that we will not take the little league soccer world by storm--more like by accident. But we're willing to help--to get out there and commit our Saturdays and our sanity through December 2nd (minus the one Saturday we will be camping). We will honk and drive in our crepe paper bedecked cars during the parade. We will bring our fold up lawn chairs to cheer on our team during the competitions. We will kiss bruises and chant positive chants and say "Great Job!" and "We'll get 'em next time."

And whether this is a yearly or merely one-time event, we're goin' in. . .

One of those blogger things

2006-09-25T17:03:00.000-05:00

Sarah is always "wow-ing" me with her never ending stream of blogosphere surveys. . .so today, in keeping with my very narrow spontaneous, impulsive side, I am posting one here. And Sarah is exactly 3% more impulsive than I.

There was another time I got a little crazy with the blog identity thing. . .and if you are so inclined to read a back-blog, then go here. I'm not kiddin'. . .it is a veritable cornucopia. . .a buffet of little known facts about me. Come on. . .be impulsive!!! Then you can go and find out little known facts about your very own self. . . I've used up my 29% impulsivity and then some on this blog alone.

You Are 29% Impulsive

You're a pretty stable and serious person. You don't take things lightly.
This doesn't mean you can't have fun - you just have fun responsibly.
You definitely have a spontaneous side, but you only let loose when it's appropriate.

Are You Impulsive?

Unapologetic Cuteness

2006-09-24T16:29:00.000-05:00

So no one's been commenting much lately. . .on my humble little blog or on many of the others that I read. Maybe everyone is too busy. I know I'm too busy, but I'm also excellent at procrastinating and that's why you keep on hearing from me. Maybe no one is blogging about anything worthy of commenting. . .but I don't really think that's true seeing as how I keep on commenting. Of course, if you know me, you know I could hold a conversation with absolutely anyone including just myself--which is pretty much what I'm doing right this second. . .so here are some cute pictures of my kids. They are not, by far, the CUTEST pictures, but they are all I have on our 6 year old grainy digital video camera with the photographic option.

The girl. . .in all of her dress-up glory. She's quite the looker. . .

And here is the boy pretending that he's going to run over you with his Big Wheel. He won't REALLY run over you with his Big Wheel, but he likes to pretend.

That's all I got. . .Friday was the end of the 1st 6 weeks in my school district. I am hoping beyond hopes that the second 6 weeks is a little more calm and sedate than the 1st. . .yeah--well--one can dream. Happy nearly October to ya. . .and comment at will.

Why is it. . .

2006-09-23T15:51:00.000-05:00

Why is it that my children can play totally unattended and happily all alone by themselves until the phone rings or I sit down at the computer? Why is that? It's not a new happening in the land of motherhood--mothers all over have shared their experiences about trying to keep kids quiet while having a phone conversation--now it extends to the computer. It also extends to napping. My children have not napped in YEARS--but when I try to take one, I am treated as though I have sold out to the gods of sloth and negligence. . .

EGADS!!!!!

Okay. That's that. There are many, many things to do this weekend and the time goes all to quickly.

Which is why when the kids want my attention and I'm on the phone or the computer or napping I feel that twinge of guilt. Time goes all to quickly, you know.

"Pigs and Geese and Ducks better scurry. . .

2006-09-20T19:29:00.000-05:00

"Pigs and geese and ducks better scurry, when I take you out in my surrey, when I take you out in my surrey with the fringe on top."

Not quite what they had in Oklahoma. . .but the song is ruined for me anyway, 'cause I can only hear the "When Harry Met Sally" version in my head.

There is a limited number of things one can do on an island since it is, after all, an island and has only so much room for activities. Victoria is keeping a list of the things we have yet to do lest we forget. Our favorite things to do on Galveston Island are free. We go to Tony's parents' house, the beach, ride the ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula and back. We also splurge and do one night of "costing" things when we are down there. Normally it's dinner out and a game of putt-putt golf at the PRETTIEST little putt-putt course you've ever seen.

THIS time, it was taking a bike ride. What a lovely idea. Pedaling along the seawall with the breeze blowing and gently ruffling the fringe on what was touted (in painted banner) as "The Cadillac of Surreys." The kids honking the horn at seagulls--waving to passers-by.

There are lots of interesting facts about Galveston Island. It was home to the aggressive and cannibalistic Karankawa Indians. They would smear their bodies with rancid alligator fat to keep the mosquitoes away. (There you have the extent of my remaining knowledge of native Americans of Texas from the ONE year I taught 4th grade.) It was also reportedly the "secret hideout" of famed pirate Jean Lafitte. The hurricane of 1900 was the worst in the United States in recorded history sweeping away almost every building on the island and inspiring the construction of the Galveston seawall and jetty system. Galveston was also home to the first newspaper AND the first electric lights in the state.

Of all of the Galveston trivia I have read or heard, however, I have never been privy to the most interesting fact of all.

Galveston Island does, in fact, run uphill both ways.

I'm not quite sure why this is not a more widely known item of interest. Maybe it's because you only notice this odd geological malformation while pedaling a surrey that holds up to 6 people when only 2 people's legs are long enough to actually reach the pedals and pedal it. . .at 4:30 in the afternoon. . .on Labor Day weekend. I am sure it's not nearly as noticeable if, say, it's February and a two person surrey is occupied AND being pedaled by two people.

Alas, I don't plan to find out. It was fun while it lasted. Victoria was able to attend to her list. Riding the bike has been officially (thank all that is good and holy) marked off--at least until the children are a little taller.

Next item on the agenda. . .duck boats.

Happy Birthday, Dear Sarah

2006-09-17T15:44:00.000-05:00

Today is Sarah's birthday. Don't know who Sarah is or why I would refer to her as though you should? Well, go here and here.

I have a little bloggy routine when I get on line. I go through all of my favs, then post whatever I intend on posting for that day. Sarah's is my last stop, because my list is alphabetical, and her's begins with a "T." And you know what. . .Sarah has already wished herself a happy birthday before I even got to it. It's not her fault. After church we had to run errands. . .then we ate lunch. . .then I celebrated Sarah's birthday by taking an hour nap for her since she's got company AND a speaking engagement this week, and probably didn't get to indulge in that particular pleasure on her day. I feel badly that I'm a little tardy with my wishes. . .but it's still the 17th, so at least I'm not out and out late.

Happy Birthday, Sarah!!!!!!!! I am thinking of you this week, and can't wait to hear all about this next Grand adventure of yours. Play your favorite Karen Henley birthday song, and get Ashley to pat you for me. :) I love you!

Reality Blogging: Welcome to our home

2006-09-16T17:03:00.001-05:00

Welcome to the reality of our home.

The girl is wearing a very sparkly, pink hand-me-down ballet outfit, a tiara, and winter gloves. The boy is just glad I made sausage and eggs for breakfast.

This is what happens when you and your husband sleep until 8:00 on a Saturday, but the children get up at 6:45. . .

Sesame Street, a buttery soft rabbit and Curious George in a neat row in the middle of the mess. . .along with shoes and the trays the kids ate their lunches on.

Wide angle view of the chaos. . .this was right after school started. . .it doesn't look much different right now except for the clean laundry that is folded and stacked in piles in front of the fire place.

Kitchen. . .if it's gonna be a mess, it might as well be a colorful mess. . .we like pink and lime green a lot. . .well, Victoria and I like it. Tony and Thad tolerate it.

Yes. . .for some of you this will fall into the TMI category, but for the rest of you, you will recognize the reality and know that there are very few "perfect" house keepers out there.

I could write a very long explanation of why our home looks like the place for barnyard animals to live, but I won't. I will say, here is my effort to be transparent and encourage anyone who thinks they are the world's worst housekeeper.

You lose.

I am the world's worst housekeeper. . .despite my status as a flybaby and my love for FlyLady and all she represents. I keep on trying, but this is basically the current state of my home. . .so take heart. If yours looks like this. . .if you can't eat dinner because there is no clean flat wear. ..if you have resorted to smelling the clothing to see if it's clean or dirty, it's nice to meet ya, sister-friend!!! Off to set that timer for several rounds of 15 minutes and dig out from under what I can.

Addendum

2006-09-15T08:40:00.000-05:00

By the way. . .there was no orange moon pie in Tony's birthday "cake." They proved more elusive than the lemon and strawberry, so neither Momma nor I could find one. . .and Tony has NOT gone looking.

Part 3: Happy Birthday to you. . .

2006-09-14T20:06:00.000-05:00

If you've not gotten it yet, my husband has some pretty strong opinions. Actually opinion isn't really a strong enough word for what he has. They are more like credos that apply to any and everything. He has food credos. . .brand credos. . .behavioral credos. . .clothing credos. . .the list could go on and on. He has CONCRETE CREDOS regarding most things in his life. He doesn't really care if YOU follow his credos personally. . .but I, being his wife, am very aware of each and every one. For example, he will NOT under ANY circumstances eat margarine, or watch a movie with Jimmy Stewart in it, or wear a dress shirt that is not starched within an inch of it's life, or eat 7-Up jello salad. Of course, he won't lie to you, or cheat, or stab you in the back either, so his insistence on certain standards of decorum, quirky though they may be, pays off. Evidently this bent extends to ginger as well. And so the madness continues. . .

Tony wrote:

The thought of ginger (which I have never fully-embraced as an edible food, although I realize it is a necessary evil in some Asian meals) being used to cleanse the palate causes me to cringe. I strongly recommend raspberry sorbet, although the only place you can get it is in fancy dining establishments where they make it in-house. I think ginger is more suitable for cleansing clogged sewer pipes. As far as Bryan's statement of "try it you must," I stand by my instinct that the offending orange should not enter the mouth. HOWEVER, if you are going to gamble with your life, then I agree with Bryan that, by all means, you should videotape the event. I wonder if, in doing so, you might be tempted to over-react and ham it up for the camera, thus presenting a less-than-honest evaluation. Do you feel capable of being candid?

--Pappy

And so we waited. . .and waited. . .and waited. . .and we went on our own vacation. . .to a different state. . .and then the moment of truth arrived. . .

Richard wrote on July 10:

It is done.

I have attempted to gather my thoughts to create a meaningful and elaborate account of the events that took place when the Orange Moon Pie was consumed. However eloquent descriptive thoughts came and went through my mind like whispers one might hear when one is only in a half-sleep.

Did it really happen? It must have, the Moon Pie is gone, though no video exists that I am aware of. Sorry Tony and Bryan. Memories of the event only remain in a blur like an older actor that requires cheese-cloth over the camera lens to hide the ravages of age on his face, or like an overripe peach in a blender.

I remember, the texture was sound. The confection was assembled by good hands. However the taste eluded me. "What do you mean 'eluded you?' It was orange wasn't it?" I hear you say. Yes... eluded transitive verb.1 : to avoid adroitly : EVADE 2 : to escape the perception, understanding, or grasp of 3 : DEFY I simply could not identify what kind of orange flavor it was. It wasn't as simple as navel, mandarin, blood, clementine... It was an artificial flavor of course, but WHICH ONE?! My orange experiences were stretched to the limit. It wasn't Jolly Rancher, Tic-Tac, Dyna Mint, Tang, Fanta, Crush, Star-Burst, Life Saver, cough syrup/drop, Sunkist (soda), Push-Up, sherbet, Pop-Ice, Julius, Snow Cone, Slurpee, or Popsicle. Although I think it came closest to Popsicle. Close though it may have been, it still wasn't that option.

I don't know if it was the confusion factor but I was not dissatisfied by the overall experience. Loathe though it may be for Tony to hear, I will not put on airs to elicit a desired reaction from my audience. Despite this opinion I cannot envision myself buying one again as the experience was just too surreal. I know not where it would be placed on the CB(L)V Scale. It is the wind.

the horror... the horror...

-Arthur of Darkness

Tony's birthday is July 9. He does NOT like to be elsewhere on his birthday (see "Credo" section above) than the town and state of his birth--unless it's in Galveston which is pretty close and has a beach and is therefore tolerated. Each year for as long as he can remember, he has had a strawberry birthday cake. Given his penchant for particulars regarding foods, this is no ordinary mix-up-a-box-buy-a-tub-of-frosting cake. The first time I attempted to make the cake for him, I gathered three recipes and set to work. I had NO IDEA that homemade strawberry frosting--with real butter of course--WILL NOT HARDEN unless the strawberries are THOROUGHLY drained and the house is chilled to something WAY cooler than you can get in ANY southern house during the first week of July--and my parent's house doesn't have central air, so the project was doomed from the start. I think I used TWO WHOLE BAGS of powdered sugar trying to get the icing to thicken. The layers of cake slid around like socks on the kitchen floor. I have gotten good at the strawberry cake over the years, but I've never attempted another one at Momma and Daddy's house.

Guess where Tony had to spend his birthday this year?

With the strawberry cake fiasco of '92 and his birthday away from home issues. . .I decided to pull out all the stops and go for broke. . .it was a Moon Pie cake or bust! I envisioned several favorites and some of the new flavors all stacked together with one, lone banana double-decker atop the pile and a candle all lit and sparkling. What a surprise it would be!!!! Then, without the time to go looking for the elusive banana pie--much less the new ones--I hopped on the trusty internet. Moon Pie central can be found there. . .and I was all ready to order them up. . .then I happened to talk to my mother. I mentioned my idea and she was off like a shot scouring the Fred's and Dollar Generals and family-owned grocery stores of the town where she lives. She would call with a daily update of her "finds." I lost track after awhile. . .but when the final count was tallied, Tony ended up with 72 Moon Pies of various shapes, deckers, and flavors. See the wackiness below.

Tony wrote:

ORANGE MOON-PIE BE DARNED!!! Attached you will see my Louisiana-style birthday "pie" (presented by the Watts family) and my presents stacked behind it.There's plenty to share, so we need to get together soon! I just bought "Best in Show" today. Maybe we can watch it. Bryan, get on a plane and join us. Bring some barbecue, too.

--Pappy

Richard wrote:

Great Jumpin’ Jehosephat Man!

Guard that bounty with your life. I noticed you yourself have some of the "new fruit flavored" Moon Pies. We can call it a longitudinal study and you can make your own tests. Jes' b'ware the strawberry, me lad. Why don't you start suggesting some Fridays and Saturdays between now and the end of August and we'll see what we can do to get together. As a bonus, I believe Sam’s has a case of RC for $5.98 or so. This or Dr. Pepper will do (as per the Junk Food Junkie song of the 1970s, "Dr. Pepper and an 'ol Moon Pie!")

Report your own Moon Pie findings here.

-Dr. Slappy

Thus ends the tale of the Moon Pie. . .e-mails ceased as school and Moon Pie consumption began. It's taken awhile to knock a dent in the stash, but the children are now allowed chocolate only--though they prefer other treats. Tony shared the abundance with his buddies last weekend while crabbing the Texas Gulf Coast. A good time was had by all.

How can the attention given a pastry such as the Moon Pie take up three nights and three blog entries worth of time and space? Well, devotion, I suppose. . .devotion to one's preferences. . .devotion to the happiness of loved ones. . .devotion to the simple things like snacks and humor and conversation. A snack food with a decidedly southern twist now elevated to the stuff of legend by three Urban and one mid-western Eagle Scouts and the woman who most decidedly loves (at least one if not all 0f) them. Silly, really. But it's made me laugh. . .and I hope it's done the same for you.

Part 2: To boldly go

2006-09-13T20:21:00.000-05:00

I realize that some of you may not have had opportunity to partake of or even be introduced to the humble Moon Pie. Allow me to give you some background information.

Moon Pies come in three standard flavors: chocolate, vanilla, and banana. You already know Tony’s particular preference, and as far as he is concerned, vanilla is right out. The standard anatomy of a Moon Pie is two soft graham cracker type cookies that house a layer of marshmallow fluff which is then enrobed in a wax-like coating bearing one of the standard flavors along with appropriate coloring for said flavor. That is the single-decker Moon Pie. If you are brave enough—and hungry enough—and have both a circulatory and digestive system strong enough to tackle the double-decker Moon Pie, your taste buds are in for a culinary treat. You get THREE soft cookies and an additional layer of marshmallow fluff. The Moon Pie is round.

There ya go.

So, early in June Tony received the following emergency dispatch from his friend, Richard:

Richard wrote on June 14, 2006:

Dateline: Wimberly, Texas

Re: Discovery

Three "new" moon pie flavors were spotted at the local Brookshire Bros. *STOP*

Strawberry, Lemon, and Orange were the specific flavors *STOP*

Initial revulsion was overcome by curiosity and one (1) of each was purchased *STOP*

Granted these are not the traditional stoic chocolate, the exotic banana, or the even the acceptable vanilla, but new ground must be broken on occasion *STOP*

Taste tests have not yet begun but once I commence to the task, results will be reported here. *STOP*

Wish me luck, I'm goin' in. *STOP*

Regards,
-Slappy

*(editorial comment: His name is really Richard. The fellas have some odd monikers that they use when referencing each other while discussing things of an important nature such as camping, crabbing, or the consumption of a Moon Pie. Richard is Slappy.)

Tony shot back this reply toot-sweet:

Tony wrote:
If someone knows of a retailer that sells banana Moon Pies in my locale, please let me know. I favor that flavor, but Wal-Mart sells only the chocolate ones.

As far as you tasting your newly-discovered flavors, I have this to say:

Strawberry: Child's play.

Lemon: A bit adventurous.

Orange: Are you out of your mind?!!! It's an insult to your colon! Just say "NO!"

--Julia "Pappy" Child

*(editorial comment: Tony is Pappy.)

Well, Richard rapidly set to and laid out his review. . .as soon as he got back from vacation. (Did I mention that “speedy” is not one of the points of the Scout Law? Neither is “honest.”)

Richard wrote on June 26, 2006:
Partial results of Moon Pie tests:

The Lemon was first. I was sure to have a clean palate upon which to work. The fragrance was strong as was the flavor. It was firm yet yielding. The flavor reminded me of lemon sugar cookies once obtained at Hamner's Country Cupboard some years prior. The overall experience was good. In the Chocolate, Banana, Vanilla (CBV) Scale, I put it slightly above vanilla. High praise I know but I was pleasantly surprised.

The Strawberry was next. Emboldened by my Lemon experience I rushed in with gusto normally reserved for the first taste of Bob's Jalapeno chips on a camp out. Nonplussed by my first taste I repeated the process only to find myself wanting. Its aroma was strong but the flavor was... lacking. This angered me, the petulance of this
snack treat was masked only by it's insolence! This Moon Pie mocked me and I would have none of it. My $.47 be-[jiggered] this Pie was not going to get the best of me! I finished the remains of this impostor and gave the wrapper what for, I can tell you. It knew the sting of my boot and no mistake.

This left the Orange Moon Pie. Tony's warning about said Pie has taken on new meaning since the "Strawberry Incident". It traveled home with me and sits in my refrigerator still. A showdown of sorts has commenced. Have no doubt my friends, I fear no Moon Pie but
yet... it lingers.

I have told myself it's because I've been too busy. Days are full keeping up with the young'uns and Vacation Bible School has occupied my nights. It's late when I get home. Even tonight, as I walked through the house turning off lights, locking doors and the like, I found myself wanting a snack but... no. Before this week is through, the Orange Moon Pie and I will have it out. But I don't want to enter this angry or with my hopes at unrealistic levels.

I hear you: "You're overreacting, it's nothing" and you may be right, you teachers, money managers, and accountants for what you're worth. And yet... "The Strawberry Incident" haunts me.

-e.e. slappy

Tony’s reply was close to immediate. (Did I mention the thing about speedy? Well, he’s normally not, but this whole Moon Pie thing really lit a fire under him. He doesn’t cotton to those new-fangled ideas—or flavors.)

Tony wrote on June 27:

Richard,

The lemon sounds to be just what I would expect, and I'm glad that you placed it above vanilla (the Shemp of Moon-Pies). *(editorial comment: If you don't know the lowliness of the 4th Stooge--Shemp--then you are probably not married to an Eagle Scout--or even a real man. You might need to check your spouse's pulse. I have yet to meet a male who does not like the Three Stooges. Shemp's name is used only ever to show derision and loathing for anything substandard and only to be tolerated as the last possible option.) I believe, based on your evaluation, that I shall rank my Moon-Pie preferences thusly: B, C, L. On your word alone, I will accept it as worthy
of bearing the pseudo-cellophane packaging imprinted with the words "Moon-Pie."

Your reflections of the strawberry flavor are a bit disappointing to me. As strawberry is my favorite flavor -- I've had a strawberry cake for my birthday for as long as I can remember -- I was hoping that it would be a contender for second place, thus creating a
ranking of B, S, C, L. I do not doubt your results, but feel compelled to try the flavor myself -- not out of a desire to validate your findings through scientific method, but rather out of morbid curiosity.

And now for the meat of this letter: the orange "moon-pie." (Note the lower-case letters, signifying my wariness of this [illegitimate member] of the Moon-Pie family.) Richard, you most certainly are not over-reacting. I fully understand your current situation, and can not say
that I would be doing differently were I in your shoes. Here is what I would do if I were you, but feel free to make your own choices:

1. View the orange concoction as a worthy opponent. As you open the refrigerator door, keep one eye on it as you search for whatever item caused you to go there. Perhaps it would not be out of the question to equate your relationship with this demon-pastry as to that of the U. S. A. to the former U. S. S. R. during the decades of the Cold War, and let's hope the tension you experience does not go on for that long. Admit to it that you see its strengths, but that you are more than capable of annihilating it, should the need arise. Yes, you can take care of yourself, and the two of you will come to a fragile truce.
Or,
2. Declare your arrogant superiority over the wafer, and refuse to waste your time with taste-testing horse [poo]. Throw it out, with flare and style if you so wish, and tell it that you are the victor, so says you! Or perhaps you could [this line removed due to gross-out factor] set it on fire, and then toss it under the foot of one of the elephants that you see whilst visiting the zoo with your kids. DO NOT allow the remnants to enter the Galveston Bay watershed, as I do not want any crabs feasting on the vile matter.

Best of luck to you and yours.

At this point Mike and Bryan decide to wade into the fray and weigh in with entries of their own which read as follows :

Mike wrote:

You know? I like muffins

Bryan wrote:

After a long day's work – it's always an hour later out here – I could barely get my brain to follow this story, except for maybe the "it was firm yet yielding" bit. Let me think about this and get back to you on the weekend when my brain will be able to digest information. Meanwhile, you must get some ginger and cleanse your palate before
you tackle the orange moon-pie. Taste it you must...and why don't you videotape the experience and stick it on Youtube.com for us to view.

Tony took umbrage to Bryan suggesting ginger as the palate cleanser of choice. But that, my friends, is a story for another day. . .like tomorrow maybe?

*Editorial Disclaimer: Permission was neither asked nor received to change actual wording, but girlie colors WERE added, and verbage was changed [signified by these brackets] to keep this a family friendly blog. (Even though no real subversive language was used, most of us ARE ladies here). No Moon Pies were consumed by the editor during the writing of this blog. But my husband had one banana and one chocolate with a glass of milk. (And allow me to mention right here and now that the man has lost 33 pounds since June. . .don't you HATE him??? Let's hear it for the Moon Pie diet.)

And now for something completely different. . .

2006-09-12T20:32:00.001-05:00

Okay. . .I'm not normally one to go throwin' around my husband's "credentials". . .and you may take that however you choose. . .but he is a funny guy. This is hidden to much of the free and/or captive world by his quiet, shy, introverted, I'm-not-interested-in-you-because-we-do-not-share-a-blood-or-name-tie demeanor. We are the most unlikely of pairings. . .and we were told so. . .by a therapist. HOWEVER,that does not change the fact that he amuses me on many more occasions than I can recount. Much like me being amused at myself more than anyone else is, it might hold true to me being amused at my husband more than anyone else is.

That being said, and by way of explanation, allow me to tell you that Tony has exactly, precisely, FOUR (4,IV, one less than 5, one more than 3--add your own Monty Python reference here) friends. I guess he sort of really has five, but one of them married his sister (that was almost a deal breaker right there) so he doesn't count anymore--having the whole related thing going on. His three BEST friends are Eagle Scouts.

I had NO IDEA about Eagle Scouts before I dated and married one. It's the hoitiest-toitiest-snobbiest club of men you can imagine. It's jocularity, [WELL-DESERVED] hubris, and a job well done all heartily mixed together, run amok, and dosed with liberal amounts of testosterone, wood smoke, and dirt.

As a newcomer to the state, my running joke was that I'd never met anyone more conceited than a Texan until I actually MOVED to Texas and met Aggies. Now imagine the rip in the space time continuum (can you tell I'm married to an Eagle Scout yet?) were the three COMBINED. Thankfully, all of the Eagle Scouts I know graduated from the University of Houston except for one. . .and he graduated from a school IN Houston before graduating from another school too.

Anywho. . .my husband and his cronies have gadded about on more than one campout/cookout/tube down the river (where he lost our LAST $20 for that month)/push a broken down vehicle/invent new games/fish for crustaceans/play poker for chips/drink gallons of Kool-aid and smoke cigars the wives don't know about trips than one can imagine. They don't get together as much anymore due to a total of 4 wives, 8 children, and the price of gas, so they must resort to e-mail. Most of the time, I am none-the-wiser. But, on occasion, I am allowed to peer into the great chasm of Eagle Scoutedness and comraderie to take a look at what I'm missing.

Over the next day or two, I will take a break from the estrogen heavy blogging that goes on here and regale you with a brief example of their humor as it relates to a confection called the Moon Pie.

If you are not southern, nor have you ever been to the south, there are many things you might not know actually exist on the planet. Ever seen Spanish peanuts suspended in hard-as-a-rock, pinkish-red candy and shaped like a puck? Well, I can tell you where to find 'em. Did you see "Dances with Wolves?" Remember the guy eating eggs out of a jar? They stuck in his beard and he spewed them forth with every word he said. I've seen those eggs. They probably came from the same batch. . .and they are PICKLED, for heaven's sakes. I've also seen post-mortem pig's feet in the same condition. . .on a counter. . .in a gas station. . .owned by a relative.

Not far from those humblest of southern delicacies will one find the actual, name brand Moon Pie. Now growing up, I was often allowed to choose treats from establishments that boasted a full array of southern cuisine including the aforementioned dairy, animal, and nut products. It was normally 150 degrees outside--my feet were normally bare (the soles of which are still permanently hardened by walking atop boiling hot asphalt to get to said establishment)--and the array they had was always cheap. I was normally not a fan of the Moon Pie. I had the occasional chocolate, but I preferred Push-Ups or Jack's Lemon cookies, or a Baby Ruth for my quarter. Yes, I said a QUARTER!!!

My husband still cringes to think of the RUR-AL-NESS of the girl who gave birth to his Texan offspring. . .but he cannot deny his hidden link to my upbringing, because he dearly loves a banana Moon Pie--with or without an RC (which he also enjoys from time to time.)

We have searched in vain, in Houston, for many years to find a banana Moon Pie. We have looked high. We have looked low. One time my unsuspecting mother suggested I just buy a box of Little Debbie banana moon pie type pastry. Katie, bar the door!!!! I dared not even mention it to the man. His blood pressure would have sky-rocketed and he could have gotten his own pie from the actual Moon itself.

The hunt continued. On trips home in lesser known parts of Texas and Louisiana, I'd sometimes happen across a double-decker banana Moon Pie. You will find those in the same place you find a Cotton ICED (NOT GLAZED) honey bun. I'd buy two and surprise him. But nothing prepared my unsuspecting husband for the treat that lay in store during summer '06. . .

My Kids

2006-09-11T19:44:00.000-05:00

Well, I have had lots to ponder on this day five years hence from one of the greatest tragedies our country has ever seen. Part of that pondering is explaining pieces of it to my girl. She was just over three years old on September 11, 2001--Thad one day shy of three months. Victoria doesn't remember a whole lot. . .not even how upset she was that she didn't get to watch her videos like normal that day. So as the kiddos are brushing teeth and getting ready to bed down, Tony and I are preparing to watch part of a movie. . .on a school night no less. . .and I thought I might just tack on these totally inappropriate yet totally appropriate images of my kids. There is no trace of fear in them. Their world was affected without their knowledge. They will not know the world I lived in. But we are doing what parents all over this world are doing--trying to keep the daily round of our lives as stable and safe and happy as possible.

So on that note. . .

Here is a picture of Victoria's 8th birthday cake. She requested flip-flops and I obliged.

And the boy lost a tooth one week ago tomorrow. He was thrilled beyond measure to actually be "first" for once--'cause even though Victoria lost her first tooth about 2 1/2 years ago. . .she was almost 6 when hers came out and he is barely 5.

Enjoy your night. Hug your kids. Kiss your husband. Drink a real Coke. Thank God for the grace and small wonders and happinesses he grants us every single day we draw breath.

A Very Special Gift

2006-09-10T21:24:00.000-05:00

Sandy in Canada has sent me one of "those" kinds of gifts. . .you know, the kind that when you open it you sort of take in a quick breath and say, "Oh!," as if you'd just walked around a corner and found a million roses all in bloom. It looks like a very humble, unassuming blue ceramic plaque with a childlike drawing of an upside down house. But not only was it chosen with love. . .it also had a very special link to my family history about which Sandy knew nothing.

What Sandy does not know is that my great aunt, Georgia Beatrice, whom we called simply, Aunt Bea, owned a cafe in Shreveport, Louisiana during the later years of the Great Depression. She was the next oldest girl after my Granny, Rubye Mae.

Anyway--she owned a cafe (pronounced by EVERYONE on that side of the family as "kuh-fay"), and it was near the railroad tracks in Shreveport. Her cafe was one of the ones "tagged" by hobos as being a place they could work for food. She would have them wash dishes, or chop wood, or carry groceries, or sweep up in exchange for a hot meal. It may have even been dished up with some free advice knowing her. But the name of her "kuh-fay" was found on rail cars along with the town in which it was located.

So. . .when I turned over my humble, little blue ceramic plaque with the simple upside down house on it and read the story and the meaning of the symbol painted on the front, well, it took my breath away.

Not only was it a lovely compliment, but it bound me even tighter to a history that is mine and that is shared with the Williamson side of the family. Aunt Bea never had any children, and she died at a ripe old age very much alone in the world except for her remaining sisters and my mother. But she helped those who needed it in a time when lots of people needed it. And this plaque has traveled all the way from Western Canada to remind me to do the same.

I've been tagged by a book thing

2006-09-04T23:17:00.000-05:00

Okay. . .don't really know about all this tagging business, but I'm willing to play along before bed. I was tagged by Jessica, and here is my entry from p.123, after line5, the next three sentences from gods in Alabama. If you missed my review, go here.

"The homecoming crown. And yes, in this fantasy, I inherited Jim Beverly. He mainly stood by me at school events where I was being feted and whispered things in my ear like 'Rose-Pop, you are so different now, so sweet and fine!' "

That's that.

Three of Three

2006-09-03T22:18:00.000-05:00

Well, I was going to put Victoria's b-day pics here--seeing as how they are a month late, but they aren't on here yet. . .and then I was going to put something Tony wrote on here. . .but he's not done with it yet. . .so I'm gonna leave you hanging. . .there are two other posts for tonight that ought to keep you busy for awile.

Two of Three

2006-09-03T22:06:00.000-05:00

Below is a quote that has passed in and out of education circles for the past few years. It is a powerful, strong, true quote. It is on the wall in my classroom by my desk so that when I think to look at it, I am reminded of the intensity of my job. It was "dressed up" for the classroom by the addition of a couple of key words.

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in my classroom. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make a child's life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a child humanized or de-humanized." Haim Ginott

I thought I had put it on my blog before. . .I did a search and didn't find it, so I will put it on for the first or second time with the following changes.

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in my home. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make my family's life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and my family humanized or de-humanized." Haim Ginott

Very overwhelming, very intense, very scary words. And very true.

One of Three

2006-09-03T21:18:00.000-05:00

Well, not quite sure what to name this post, so I'm just divin' on in.

I read gods in Alabama this weekend. . .twice. It was written by the gal who DID change her name on her social security card but the DMV lost her paperwork and arrested her and humiliated her and made her be near an unsanitary toilet. If you read my post the other day, then you know the story. Her name is Joshilyn Jackson, and she is a very, very good writer. The book is a very, very good book.

I tend to inhale books whole. . .like a first piece of pizza when you're really hungry. *Snap*--gone.

I read the book jacket first, then the foreward/aknowledgements/prologue/dedication/whatever they've got goin' on. THEN I read the first chapter. . .then I read the last chapter. . .then I read what's in between. Now, this drives my very linear husband absolutely slap up the wall. It comforts me.

I tend to get really, really, really wrapped up in a book, so I need to know a little bit of what is going to happen first. I have even, in my old age, taken to going to a website that tells you the end of a movie to see if I want to watch it or not. I don't care who says what. . .if the ending is not "happy" then I'm not watchin' it. That being said, I watched The Notebook with Tony last weekend. . .it has a very happy ending. *SPOILER* WARNING* DO NOT READ THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING OF THE MOVIE THE NOTEBOOK. Even though they both die in the end. . .they are old and have altzheimers and a bad heart and get to die simultaneously in the same bed holding hands. . .I only hope mine and Tony's passing is so painless and coordinated.

Movies, books, they affect me. . .I spend the next several days pondering plot points, details, twists and turns. I get very clear images of characters and settings in my mind. The first book I ever did this with was The Velvet Room by Zilpha Keatley Snyder. . .the next was Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt. . .I can pretty much name the books that have made a lasting impression on me, but I'll stop there.

Anyway--Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe was a movie that did that to me. . .and so was the book. And this book is a lot like that book. . .very southern, very dysfunctional family, very clear cut reasons for what happened to what and whom in a very murky way. I recommend it. Rated "R" for very colorful language, adult situations, and some descriptive violence. . .but if you need a good read--this is it.

Her acknowledgments cracked me up. . .and you know that's a good start. She says in them, "It's almost a given that a Southern writer needs a savage and spectacularly dysfunctional family, but I am afraid mine has failed me. Every one of them is disappointingly mentally stable and supportive. . ."

Go. Read. Enjoy.

Gone to Galveston

2006-09-01T17:13:00.000-05:00

See ya'll on Monday.

Little Legacies

2006-08-30T21:58:00.000-05:00

August 4, 2006

Victoria is on the phone with my mother right now. She is telling her about her first sewing project. She is actually a little late in starting this. It was the summer I turned seven when I began sewing. I did an embroidery pig. It was pink, and I was very proud of it. When I finished it, my mother took me down the road to the little country grocery store where I showed it off to Audrey, the proprietor, and was treated to a double dip of the best peach icecream I've ever had in my life. After that pink pig, there was no stopping me.

I am not an accomplished seamstress. I have sewn curtains and made some clothes for Victoria and me--some quilts--some pillows. None of them are remarkable. None of them would win an award. But I've never doubted I could do it. It's part of a legacy.

I watched my Granny sew EVERY SINGLE DAY but Sunday. She had to for exercise to keep her arthritis in check. She did most of her sewing by hand, but also had an old fashioned treadle sewing machine. She would pump the big, square, wrought-iron pedal with her right foot while my brother and I crouched on the floor and watched. Sometimes, if the machine wasn't threaded, she would let us pump the pedal for fun. When she died at the age of 72 in the summer of 1985, she had never owned an electric sewing machine. She had several strokes over the course of a few months. After the first one, she was still able to speak. . .and she began sewing again. I have something she made during that time. The stroke had happened in the left hemisphere of her brain, so she was paralyzed on the right side and had to sew left handed. The stitches are uneven, and staggered, and each one was difficult for her, but she did it. She couldn't help herself--she knew she had to sew.

I watched my mother sew--embroidered shirts, a flash card bag for me that I still have, new curtains every couple of summers for my room, patches on jeans, holes in well-worn shirts, more dresses and skirts than I can remember because I ALWAYS wanted my skirts much, much longer than the fashion of the day. She would cross-stitch, sew on plastic canvas, didn't matter. . .a needle and some thread and she was good to go.

I have made some new skirts for school this year. I have decided if I cannot keep my 6th graders awake with my lessons, I will keep them awake with my clothing. Victoria and Thad hear me sewing. . .the hypnotic whir of stitching a straight seam at break-neck speed. . .or threading the bobbin so fast you think it might just fly off the machine. They stand, transfixed, and say, "Mommy, HOW do you DO that?" And I remember my brother and me asking my mom the same question.

We each have our own set of familial idiosyncrasies--quirks and preferences that apply only because of DNA. Some of them are useful, some annoying, some habit, all touchstones of identity. My husband had never EVER seen anyone make toast like me until we got married. (A pat of butter in each corner and one in the middle--cooked in a toaster oven so it's toasted on top and soft underneath. My father-in-law says I eat my toast raw.) My Granny made it that way, so Momma made it that way, so I make it that way, and that's the way Victoria likes it best--even though her blasphemous Daddy has tried to convert her to pop-up toast time and again.

Little legacies. . .we pass them on every day as a matter of course. We don't think of what they are, but they all weave together to make this tapestry of home and family that we carry with us. Enjoy your own little legacies today.

Post Two. . .in which I digress, sort of

2006-08-29T20:41:00.000-05:00

Okay. . .after my brain tiredness of the day, I decide to do some blog surfing. I normally stick to my regular rounds. . .but on someone's comments I saw "Faster than Kudzu" as a link. Well, the name caught my fancy, so I headed on over and found something that made me read more, and led me on a nice little walk down "you and weird 6th grader dude ain't got it so bad."

Go here, here, here, and then here to see why you just THOUGHT your day wasn't so hot. Of course. . .I'm sure this gal would say hers could have been worse too. So if something really tragic has happened to you, then this is small potatoes. But if you dropped a new jar of pickles in the floor and glass and pickle corpses and pickle juice flew all into a freshly laundered basket of lace underthings (dropping the new jar of pickles=non-fiction, lace underthings=hypothetical. . .I wear cotton), or if your husband came home in a foul mood and one of the children threw up and you bounced a check, then this should make you feel better.

No Child Left Behind

2006-08-29T19:03:00.001-05:00

If you don't actually know what "No Child Left Behind" entails, don't feel badly. I don't know what all it entails either. The people who wrote the legislation don't even know what it entails, because things with that law are still a little fluid.

What I know is that I am a teacher. . .and it has long been my goal that no child be left anywhere they aren't supposed to be--whether that is in the wrong grade, in the cafeteria, or at the museum after a field trip. That being said. . .

I keep on finding inconsistencies in things that we are supposed to be doing for children. SOME of the inconsistencies are "oversights" or "too much too fast" or "too little too late." Some is that people simply are not doing their job. The former happens to all of us. The latter is turning me into a watch dog for middle school aged children.

I taught a kid two years ago. He's a weird kid. He had REALLY thick, REALLY long, jet black hair. He "cussed" like a sailor. He drew pictures of naked women (and did a darn fine job, I might add) in his history journal. He still has the hair. . .I've not been privy to the other two things in the last two years. He is also BRILLIANT when it comes to reading. He can absorb and regurgitate a very thick, very detailed novel and do some quality anime drawings that go along with it. He has been commended on the reading portion of TAKS the past the past four years. He is HORRIBLE in math. . .and failed it in7th grade. He also failed 7th grade Texas History. I found out the other day that he has been placed in a "reading workshop" class. That is a class for kids who either failed reading TAKS or are 3 grade levels below reading. He's not even 3 grade levels above in reading. . .he's several more.

I began investigating why he had been placed in reading workshop. I started by e-mailing the counselor to see if he had, in fact, failed 7th reading TAKS. He had not. He HAD failed 7th grade math and Texas History. It was then that I found out he had been placed in a reading workshop class as "punishment--his consequence" for NOT attending summer school for Texas History. He did attend for math. Now, I found that a bit odd. First of all, you're wasting this kid's brain power. Secondly, you are taking a seat in a class that should go to someone else and/or adding a kid to a teacher's load that doesn't belong there. Well, I investigated further and higher up and found that it was, indeed, the decision of the retention board that this child should be punished for not attending summer school but COULD be placed in a different class at semester based upon his performance. I decided that I would make a lesson plan for him to do in reading workshop if I had to. . .read and outline To Kill a Mockingbird. . .or read "The Ransom of Red Chief" by O.Henry and draw a comic strip of it. He's in my mentee's class, so I have some leverage.

Alright. So I taught this kid upper level reading AND had him in homeroom and was one of the FEW teachers not completely weirded out by him. We hit if off. I didn't always yell at him. He never drew pictures of naked women in my class. . .he did curse occasionally, but never AT me. He still speaks to me in the halls. So I find him today and say,
"Dude, what's up with you being in reading workshop?"
He says, "It's a mistake, but don't get me out."
"Why not?"
"Well, it's an easy 100, and I have friends in there."
"It's actually NOT a mistake. You're in there because you didn't go to summer school for Texas History."
(Totally shocked) "They said I wouldn't be punished for that."

WHOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA. Hold on. . .WHAT????

"What do you mean 'They told you'?"
"Well, I signed up for it in summer school, but there weren't enough kids to make the class, so they called and said I didn't have to take it since there wouldn't be a class, and I wouldn't be punished for it."
"What were you GOING to take rather than reading workshop?"
"Keyboarding." (I find out later that keyboarding is for highschool credit--which will do him a lot more good since he should be in honors English classes.)

Then we have the whole why-did-you-fail-TX-history discussion. The answer was that he didn't like his teacher. . .then we had the whole if-you-fail-the-class-you-don't-hurt-the-teacher-who-do-you-hurt talk. He knew all the right answers blah, blah, blah. He would still RATHER be in reading workshop for his 13-year-old reasons listed above, but he NEEDS to be in keyboarding.

My ENTIRE POINT BEING. When we say "no child left behind" that means the smart kids too
. . .even if they fail math. . .even if they fail TX history. . .even if they don't attend summer school. . .and even if they are weird. If you are going to give him a seat in reading workshop where he does not belong--then you might as well give him a seat in TX History instead--he doesn't belong there either--but that's what he failed!

I have made the grade level assistant principal aware of the situation. I have drafted an e-mail to the director of instruction (with whom I've spoken once in my investigation and hold in the highest regard) and am awaiting confirmation that I should send it.

As mortified and angry as I am about the situation, the pleaser in me. . .the "leave things along that don't concern you" part of me is nagging away. This is not the only inconsistency I've found this year. This is not the only drum I'm beating. I hate to be seen as the whistle blower all the time, but I know that my responsibility is not to the administration but to the kids.

I know I'm right. I know that putting my butt on the line for this kid and stepping on several toes in the process is the right thing to do. But it's the end of a very long day here, and I'm needin' some support.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm.....................

2006-08-26T17:08:00.000-05:00

For some reason I can't get spaces between my paragraphs today. . .just squeeze on through.)

Today I discovered that a very dear friend had removed her blog. . .her ENTIRE blog. . . deleted. . .gone. There were many reasons for this (since I called her to find out WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON!!!). What it boiled down to was this. . .it was causing strife of some sort. . .there was a concern that it wasn't "the real world." Well, I'm sure that some here on blogger.com ARE living out a fantasies, but I'm just as sure that the blogs I visit are the real deal, thank you very much. You people couldn't be makin' all this stuff up.

I'm sure we've all wondered from time to time about this whole "blawging" thing. (I borrowed "blawg" from Boomama, 'cause, as I've said before, I HATE the word "blog.") Boomama recently pondered the same on her site. . .and below is part of the comment I left there. (Those of you who have known me a long time will not be surprised to see that it is more of a manifesto rather than a mere comment.)

"I think the popularity of blogging is this. . .you can write about what you want, how you want, when you want. You can write about what you think--your feelings--your ideas. . .and since it's mostly "anonymous" (I only gave my web address to friends I know love me no matter what), there is no real risk. Plus--you can get that cognitive stimulation with absolutely no money involved while in the comfort of your own home. Let's face it--a lot of people wouldn't have this many friendships were it not for cyberspace. We are limited on time and resources due to the hectic lifestyles we live in these modern times. So blogging is attractive--especially to women--because we can connect with others. . .I found you when my friend Sarah linked to your story about your mom and the fish camp (still laughing over that one). I think blogging is like the world in general. We'd like all the people we meet to be nice and kind and loving and Christ-like, but they aren't. We'd like for everyone to get along and not be drama queens and agree with us all the time and love us no matter what, but they don't. It's the nature of humanity. . .I have also pondered the wisdom of blogging. . .It may be a fad--if you want to call it that. I don't think we'd call quilting bees a fad--but we don't have them any more. They were a way for women to do hard work together while enjoying each other's company. Our lives are still the same--but now the hard part is too many choices and too many options. Blogging offers us a time to slow down, reflect, laugh, read, and enjoy the company of others."

The modern day quilting bee indeed. . .except now rather than being able to chat while we make quilts that will keep our families from freezing to death, we are chatting to keep our souls from freezing to death. We are trying to figure out a way to keep connected in these harried times that we call the 21st century, and we are linking the world together through common threads.

I think there are times when we all wonder what is real and what isn't. . .or is it really wise to be taking our innermost thoughts, writing them down, then sashaying them out into cyberspace where friend and weirdo alike can view them at their leisure.

I guess the conclusion that I've come to in my own ponderings is this. . .not only is it fine. . .it's great. I have met new people, been privy to new thoughts, laughed a whole, WHOLE lot, gotten back in touch with friends from the past, and actually began writing down my thoughts again. I've also see others who have been touched through the whole "blawging" community. . . mothers sharing triumphs and tragedies, prayers being lifted for stranger and friend alike, marriages being worked on and hopefully bettered/saved, and I know FOR A FACT that there is someone who will be attending worship service tomorrow along with their children--someone who hasn't really been a "church" person the past few years--because of reading the comments and blogs of all the Godly women who read my humble little piece of cyberhood. I ask, what more good can be done than that?

There is also a dark side to all this blogging. . .I've accidentally stumbled upon it a time or two. But what in this world DOESN'T have a dark side? We just step around it, climb over it, or plunge through it to get back to the light.

So. . .thanks for the laughs, the ponderings, and mainly for letting me into your lives each day. It does me much more good than I can recount. And I hope you feel the same.

Aie^%$$&(#&%@((^%*^!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! &%%^#@%

2006-08-23T21:24:00.000-05:00

Okay. . .that's it. Didn't really make me feel better, but that's it for now.

Speaking of which. . .

2006-08-22T22:07:00.000-05:00

Well, just can't seem to get off the "panty" theme. . .but I HAD to share this with ya'll.

Back during inservice we had an end of day session. It was VERY crowded, we were VERY tired, and NO ONE wanted to be ANYWHERE but getting their classrooms ready or at home. We walked into our last session which was overcrowded, and to make matters worse, the presenter had an overhead up that was too small and hard to read.

Of course in a room full of school teachers from all over the district, there was lots of noise, etc. Finally Chick Presenter--also a teacher--not a big-wig--says in her most condescending teacher voice, "Okay. Everyone needs to sit down so I can begin. I've already lost several minutes due to scheduling conflicts. There is a warm up on the overhead (warmup is a term we use for the kids), and I expect everyone to get started on it. . ."

Well, we all kind of "looked" at each other and kept on talking--especially since we couldn't read the "warmup" and people were still streaming in from other places.

So then she says, "I do NOT intend on talking over you the entire time!!!"

Jump back! This gal is like, my age. Anyone with any sense knows if you want people to shut up, give 'em chocolate and tell 'em a joke.

Well, a good friend of ours from another campus comes in late and sits next to us. My dept. chair--a very professional woman--looks at her and whispers, "You'd better watch out. You're tardy." To which the gal replies, "Yeah, one of my teachers already told me someone has her 'big girl panties' on today."

Needless to say, my dept. chair and I were wishing we had some Depends, 'cause we were about to wet our pants laughing. . .and what my dept. chair doesn't know is that some day soon she will find a beautifully wrapped gift in her box at school, and inside that box will be the biggest pair of panties I can purchase.

So now, when there's someone who's just a little too much, you can whisper to YOUR friend, "Guess somebody has on their 'big girl panties today. . .'"

When the barn door's open. . .

2006-08-20T22:34:00.000-05:00

Well, Sarah recently posted some ponderings about how people found her website. . .so I am prepared to get all various and sundry sorts when I say the following. . .

What is up with all of these panties running amok in people's drawers? (Dresser drawers--not underwear drawers?)

You have much better furniture than I do.

My dresser is an antique that belonged to Tony's grandmother. . .she, I'm guessin'. . .didn't have many panties, 'cause the top two drawers for "lingerie" are very, very shallow. Below them are two very, very deep drawers with no dividers. Therefore, my panties must be folded lest they just get lost in the t-shirts, shorts, and socks that are also in the same drawer.

Victoria has a teeny-weeny garage sale dresser and her panties share space with her pajamas and socks as well.

Thad's "dresser" is a three drawer plastic thing that I used one year in my classroom. He is lucky. He only has underwear and pj's together.

Tony doesn't even have drawers OR a dresser. He has the armoire that matches my dresser and his undies rest on the top shelf with his t-shirts.

Hence, the underwear at my house needs to be folded.

And evidently we need some better furniture.

Bring on the perverts. . .I've used the word panties in here several times. Katie, bar the door.

Alive?

2006-08-17T19:55:00.000-05:00

Tony just looked at me sitting here like a slug and said, "Are you alive?"

I blinked. Proof enough.

I have LIT-ER-UH-LY been on my feet since Monday with brief stops for sleep. It is 7:52 p.m. central standard time. We have underwear that needs to be folded. I am debating between digging in the clean clothes pile on the couch for underwear for four somewhere around 5:30 a.m. or folding it tonight.

Okay. . .Fly Lady mantra. . .I can do anything for 15 minutes. . .I can do anything for 15 minutes. . .I can do anything for 15 minutes. . .

Blink.

Funnier 'n anything I've got to say

2006-08-16T19:03:00.000-05:00

Well. . .today was the first day of school. And I have no funny stories. Because I was not REALLY with kids all day. I am the Interdisciplinary Team Leader which basically means there wasn't anyone else who wanted the job (including me) but they knew I would do it. I basically passed out schedules, ran an assembly, and then ran all over the building to give other teachers an off period since they had their homeroom kids all day long. I DID get to have 20 minutes worth of fun with the kids which was nice, 'cause I was just the "substitute."

I'm sure there was something I could equate to something, but I just can't think right now.

So, I'm sending you on over to BooMama's site, 'cause she has got some funny stuff today. If you have a beverage, do not drink it while you are reading. AND she has discovered a little known super power that Batman can wield in a timely manner on unsuspecting but thankful mommies. I did not ask her permission to link to her blog. Since the story about her momma spread like wildfire (which is how I found her) and her Tour of Homes you probably already visit her anyway.

Happy Wednesday to you.

Eve of School

2006-08-15T22:34:00.000-05:00

6th graders arrive tomorrow bright and early. . .My friend Sarah went BACK to teaching today. She said the day was a little rough. I told her what I've told both of my BRAND NEW to teaching mentees.

"There are only TWO things that MUST be accomplished the first day of school.

1. Everyone needs to eat lunch.
2. Everyone needs to go home.

If everyone eats and goes home, the first day is a success."

Please pray that tomorrow all 546 6th graders (and their teachers) all get to eat and all make it home.

Idiology

2006-08-11T22:24:00.000-05:00

Well. . .each new year of school is filled with lots of meetings which are filled with lots of new slogans of the day and acronyms to accompany "the latest" in educational mindsets.

Just a sampling. . .

"Failure is not an option." (This is THE BIGGIE for our district this year. . .coming soon to a t-shirt near me.)

UBD (Understanding by Design)

SFA (can't remember the S part. . .facilitative assessment--it's a test)

"Closing the Gap" (not the store--an actual space that needs to be closed)

metacognition

Quantum learning

Power Up

ARIP (Accelerated Reading Intervention Program)

I think that's enough. . .you get the point.

Some of these are just more of the same. . .some of them are being applied in new and unique ways this year. Some of them have already been used ad nauseum, and I have yet to see ONE student on our campus.

I have decided on my own slogan for the year. . .it's actually not a slogan. It is, "Take Captive Every Thought." Now some of you have already recognized that it's a scripture. (Don't tell the state or federal legislature, please.)

II Corinthians 10:5 "We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ."

You will notice that in keeping with my sneaky way of posting the fruit of the Spirit by putting just the word "Joy" all over my classroom last year, I am leaving out the parts with which some would take issue. But I think "Take Captive Every Thought," gets the point across to my kids and to me without actually getting me fired. Every action (except for maybe a sneeze) begins with a thought of some sort. It might be a split second thought that is followed by an impulsive action, but it's a thought none-the-less. So. . .capturing our thoughts applies to everything we do.

It applies to students. . ."I don't think I'll do my homework tonight." OR "I think I will stand on the toilet in a bathroom stall so they can't find me when I'm skipping class." (For REAL)

It applies to me. . ."I think calling Beto's parents is more trouble than it's worth. I'll just deal with it." OR "I think I will go to Target on my planning time instead of grading my papers." (Not so for real. . .but it HAS happened at least once.)

And tomorrow, it's goin' up somewhere in my little lot of the trailer park.

Failing to take captive every thought is not an option.

Creative Procrastination

2006-08-10T22:34:00.000-05:00

My eyelids are revolting--not as in "guh-ross"--as in leading a revolt against me trying to keep them open. Each time I blink I get a little dizzy.

Why, then, am I sitting here writing this and not doing what I need to do so I can put my weary-build-school-teacher-resistance-again bones to bed? Well, I'm procrastinating, and I'm ownin' it!

Lots to say but here's the main reason. Should you get a hankerin' to do something really easy and cute as a "back to school teacher gift", well head on down to your local Wal-Mart(s) and go to the craft department. Find the button rack. They have some REALLY CUTE, REALLY BIG buttons these days. Pick your favs. . .I got some patterned ones (sort of expensive) and some plain ones (not so expensive). Then head a couple of aisles over to the children's craft lane and get some nickel-sized magnets.

Grab your favorite hot-glue gun and heat to boilin', then glue the little magnet onto the back of the button. Throw some of these in a cup or ziploc/paper bag or whatever and send it to school with your little one the first day of school and see the teacher smile. . .just a little thing on their first day back.

I have already made them tonight for my two different teams and some for the kids' teachers as well. Button magnets , some mini bags of M&M's and mini bags of popcorn, coke money taped to an index card, and you've got yourself one happy educator. Chocolate, salt, and caffeine--does a body good.

I'm too tired to post photos just yet. . .so you'll have to wait.

Had to share my creativity while it still exists.

Alta

2006-08-09T21:06:00.000-05:00

This morning on the way down the hall at school, I heard someone call my name. It was our lead mentor at school asking me to be the mentor for our new 8th Reading Workshop (kids who've failed TAKS frequently) teacher. I, of course, said I would.

Say a little prayer for my new mentee, please. Her name is Alta. She is all of about 23 years old. She is about 5'1" and MIGHT weigh 105 dripping wet. She has the most GORGEOUSLY deep dimples you've ever seen and is going through an alternative certification program while working on her masters in communication. She has signed up for THE hardest job at our school after Adaptive Behavior (kids who have to me removed from mainstream classrooms due to behavioral issues) and Life Skills (kids who can't function in the mainstream classroom due to physical or mental handicaps). She is the ONLY 8th grade reading workshop teacher on our campus. She KNOWS what she signed up for and signed up for it anyway. She is a brave, resourceful, go-getter of a soul.

But say a prayer for her anyway. And while you're at it--pray for me that I am able to help her as much as I possibly can.

Is it Ausust?

2006-08-06T22:08:00.000-05:00

I, in fact, know it is August due to all of my lovely birthday salutations (thank you very much) from Wednesday. But today I woke up with a cold--a cold mind you. Stuffy nose, itchy ears, the works. When the allergy tablet makes no difference, I KNOW it's a cold. So, I am just hoping that God is letting me get it out of the way before school really starts and I have to deal with lots of other more interesting germs than just those that cause the common cold.

Tomorrow on the agenda. . .team leader/department chair conference at one of the high schools. Tuesday. . .last ladies Bible class and a busy day following. Wednesday. . .first official day of inservice for teachers.

Tonight when I was putting the kids to bed, Thad was asking me about this week. When I began discussing who they would be spending their days with, rather than getting excited, he began to tear up. Then he said, "I know you are not leaving now, Mommy, but I want to give you two kisses anyway." And he did--one on each cheek. Then he hugged me while pre-missing Mommy tears slid down his little cheeks.

I assured him that he would have a great time with Nana and PaPaw and the baby sitters and our friends that he will be staying with once inservice begins. . .and he will. But it sure is nice to be loved so much that someone misses you in advance.

Saturday Night

2006-08-05T20:15:00.000-05:00

Tony is outside building a "hiding box" for the boa constrictor. (The boa spent the summer on our back porch but normally lives in Tony's 7th grade science classroom. . .that ought to answer any of you that are thinking, "What?????" If I lived. . .LIVED mind you. . .in a 7th grade classroom, I'd need a place to hide too.)

The kids are sitting on the floor playing Batman and Catwoman Legos (at Thad's request) while quoting funny lines from movies and cartoons they've seen. (Victoria had the Little Mermaid memorized by the time she was two and would recite it to herself and anyone else within shouting distance as we rolled through Wal-Mart and/or the grocery store. Now she directs them both, and they have quite a repertoire.)

I am filthy and in need of a shower and a tall, cold glass of peach tea.

It is time to call it quits for the night. . .no wonderful thoughts or revelations or even funny stories. . .just looking forward to the comfort of a clean body and a clean nightshirt.

Isn't home grand?

Happy Saturday night to you.

Little Legacies

2006-08-04T09:19:00.000-05:00

Victoria is on the phone with my mother right now. She is telling her about her first sewing project. She is actually a little late in starting this. It was the summer I turned seven when I began sewing. I did an embroidery pig. It was pink, and I was very proud of it. When I finished it, my mother took me down the road to the little country grocery store where I showed it off to Audrey, the proprietor, and was treated to a double dip of the best peach icecream I've ever had in my life. After that pink pig, there was no stopping me.

I am not an accomplished seamstress. I have sewn curtains and made some clothes for Victoria and me--some quilts--some pillows. None of them are remarkable. None of them would win an award. But I've never doubted I could do it. It's part of a legacy.

I watched my Granny sew EVERY SINGLE DAY but Sunday. She had to for exercise to keep her arthritis in check. She did most of her sewing by hand, but also had an old fashioned treadle sewing machine. She would pump the big, square, wrought-iron pedal with her right foot while my brother and I crouched on the floor and watched. Sometimes, if the machine wasn't threaded, she would let us pump the pedal for fun. When she died at the age of 72 in the summer of 1985, she had never owned an electric sewing machine. She had several strokes over the course of a few months. After the first one, she was still able to speak. . .and she began sewing again. I have something she made during that time. The stroke had happened in the left hemisphere of her brain, so she was paralyzed on the right side and had to sew left handed. The stitches are uneven, and staggered, and each one was difficult for her, but she did it. She couldn't help herself--she knew she had to sew.

I watched my mother sew--embroidered shirts, a flash card bag for me that I still have, new curtains every couple of summers for my room, patches on jeans, holes in well-worn shirts, more dresses and skirts than I can remember because I ALWAYS wanted my skirts much, much longer than the fashion of the day. She would cross-stitch, sew on plastic canvas, didn't matter. . .a needle and some thread and she was good to go.

I have made some new skirts for school this year. I have decided if I cannot keep my 6th graders awake with my lessons, I will keep them awake with my clothing. Victoria and Thad hear me sewing. . .the hypnotic whir of stitching a straight seam at break-neck speed. . .or threading the bobbin so fast you think it might just fly off the machine. They stand, transfixed, and say, "Mommy, HOW do you DO that?" And I remember my brother and me asking my mom the same question.

We each have our own set of familial idiosyncrasies--quirks and preferences that apply only because of DNA. Some of them are useful, some annoying, some habit, all touchstones of identity. My husband had never EVER seen anyone make toast like me until we got married. (A pat of butter in each corner and one in the middle--cooked in a toaster oven so it's toasted on top and soft underneath. My father-in-law says I eat my toast raw.) My Granny made it that way, so Momma made it that way, so I make it that way, and that's the way Victoria likes it best--even though her blasphemous Daddy has tried to convert her to pop-up toast time and again.

Little legacies. . .we pass them on every day as a matter of course. We don't think of what they are, but they all weave together to make this tapestry of home and family that we carry with us. Enjoy your own little legacies today.

The Wonders of Modern Technology

2006-08-03T18:31:00.000-05:00

I have stated before my fascination with the "I-Pod" though I don't, myself, own one. I love the idea of paying a small amount of money for EXACTLY the songs you want rather than paying MORE money for an entire cd of songs you DON'T want along with the one you do. I have long loved montages of music--and several friends have been on the recieving end of cassette tapes I put together long ago.

Well, it finally struck me that my lovely little Dell computer can download those songs AND burn them onto a cd even if I don't have an I-Pod in which to store them. We've owned the computer now for three years. . .ya think?!?!?!?!?!? So in honor of my 37th birthday, I did just that.

What were my first downloads you might wonder. . .a mixed bag, I'll tell you. I sort of stayed with things I can play in my classroom during entry/exit time.

You are not allowed to laugh at, poo-poo, or make fun of my music choices. Tony DID smile an, "I can't believe we now own this ditty" smile but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut after having learned of the fate of a certain chair that met the full fury of my wrath.

See the following:

The Lion Sleeps Tonight The Tokens
It's the End of the World as We Know It R.E.M.
The Longest Time Billy Joel
Don't Worry, Be Happy Bobby McFerrin
Lean on Me DC Talk
Here Comes the Sun George Harrison
If This is It Huey Lewis and the News
One Girl Revolution Superchic
Little Miss Can't Be Wrong Spin Doctors
Heaven Salvador
True Colors Phil Collins

And there you have it. . .I'm off to enjoy my purchases while I do some work around the house because I am, after all, a one girl revolution.

Code blue in the Portable

2006-08-02T07:05:00.001-05:00

Well. . .back to school it has been. On Monday I had planned to get my "new" room all ready. I'm in what is lovingly referred to as "the trailer park" this year. . .a set of portables on the end of the school building. This harkens back to my first year of teaching in Abilene at Crockett Elementary where I had the dubious honor of inhabiting THE OLDEST (and it was my principal who told me so) portable in all of AISD--open flame in the furnace and all.

To many the portable is a great thing. . .our classrooms in my building tend to be the size of cracker boxes--and trying to fit 28 pubescent children into one is a sight to behold. But I had come to grips with my little room after the two years I'd spent getting to know it. Plus I got to have some lovely blue gingham curtains on my windows.

Now I have a portable--which is a good thing--don't get me wrong. My windows actually look out on DAYLIGHT rather than a hallway. I am Commander in Chief of my own thermostat. I am already outside in case of fire. We have a field right out our door should the desire for a quick game of "Vocabulary Kick Ball" strike my fancy. Portables are GGGGGGGGGG-reat.

Except whomever laid out my portable (a man who'd better be glad I don't know who he is) must have had a bad day when it came to mine. . .all on one wall is a 3 ft. sq. box that hangs down from the ceiling and hits me right about forehead level. It houses the internet brains for all of the portables. Next to it is a dry erase board. Under the dry erase board is my ONLY internet hook up. Next to the dry erase board are my air conditioner intake/output vents. They deliver lots of air--good in Houston. They deliver it with the force of a tropical storm and the noise of several 6th graders jumping on a ceiling--not good for sitting a computer in front of. Next to those is the fuse box for, again, ALL of the portables. They are all in a nice little line. And they all make that wall completely inaccessible. The fly in the ointment (other than being electronics central for the trailer park) is the internet hook up. There is only ONE place in my room a huge computer cart (complete with t.v. monitor) can go. . .and it's RIGHT in front of my dry erase board. SHEESH.

I discovered all of this on Monday when I entered my portable for the first time. If you've read my previous blog, then you know I was already a little blue--but the honest truth is I was "all-the-furry-of-hell-is-about-to-be-unleashed-in-a-thunderstorm" kind of blue, and I was NOT happy.

So. . .after moving furniture back and forth and forth and back--SERIOUSLY--for THREE HOURS and staring at the furniture and trying to come to grips with the concussive metal box that SOMEONE will injure themselves on this year there was only one thing to do.

Pitch a fit.

So I did.

A royal fit.

A fit that would have embarrassed my momma.

A fit I would have spanked one of my children for.

I screamed.

I kicked a chair.

I jumped up and down about four times.

And then I decided it would be better if I just went home.

So I did.

I got home, ate some dinner, took a shower, put on my bedtime lavender and camomile lotion, donned my lovely cotton nightgown, put some leave-in-smell-good conditioner in my hair, and that was that. The kids were at swim lessons with their Daddy, so I had a few minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet. . .and in those few minutes the planets of my world realigned and my nice shade of pink came back.

I think I should have kicked the chair sooner.

Tomorrow. . .how can a woman with two doctorates use the sentence "There needs to be a clear, clarifying discussion. . ." and get away with it?

The Rock and the Hard Place

2006-07-30T23:07:00.000-05:00

School begins for me tomorrow. It begins tomorrow, because after tonight my summer is over. Tomorrow I meet my department chair at 8:30 at school so we can coordinate our presentation for inservice on August the 11th. On Tuesday and Wednesday I have all day middle school conferences to attend for the district. On Thursday and Friday, I will be wrapping things up around the house, buying school supplies and new shoes, and preparing my last ladies' class of the summer. On Saturday we have time with the kids scheduled. Sunday. . .church. Monday the 7th, all day team leader conference. Tuesday, ladies class and drop the kids at my in-laws because Wed. is the first day of school for teachers. . .OFFICIALLY.

My job is a blessing. I work with very nice people--especially my department chair who made/makes my working life so much easier than it could be. And I am ready to go back to school. . .but I don't want to go back to school. We've had a wonderful summer. . .so much fun. . .and today really was the last day of it. It's so funny--this week was "take your child to work" day for my sister-in-law's company. She had us bring Thad and Victoria to her office. On the way there Victoria said, "Mommy, what is work?" "What do you mean honey?" "Well, you and Daddy just go to school but Aunt Lisa goes to work. So what is work?" I remember thinking for the longest time that my mom didn't work--she just taught school. That was because she was off with us on all major holidays and summer and she was also right down the hall from me most of my school-attending career since she taught in the private school I attended. And odd set of circumstances for children of school teachers--work indeed.

So. . .off to bed with me. I must rest so that I can accomplish all tomorrow that needs to be done. . .mainly it involves thinking--putting my brain back into "school gear." The problem is that "school gear" and "summer gear" are EXACT opposites. . .so there's lots of grinding and jerking and unpleasant noise making in general to switch gears. . .no matter how many times I've done it. It's even more unpleasant since I know what it entails.

Besides, the state of Texas in the very sincerest of law-making ways says that Victoria MUST attend school. . .and it's a pretty good idea for Thad too even though we are holding him out of kindergarten for a year. So since they are going to be gone all day long. . .and Tony is too. . .I might as well go with them and make some cash to buy that copper rooster weather vane. . .AND pay the light bill. :)

(Big Sigh Here. . .)

Back to school.

Victoria Lauren

2006-07-27T23:19:00.000-05:00

Exactly eight years, one hour, and eleven minutes ago today, I had my first baby. A lovely little girl. Her daddy told me we had brought a daughter into the world. I was euphoric after 15 hours of labor and some really heavy duty pain relievers. I was so euphoric, in fact, that I believed the RN (one of four) who told me that my baby was fine and would be with me in 6-12 hours. I was so euphoric that I believed them when they said it was absolutely normal to take her away in an enclosed incubator. I believed them when they said it was normal to have four nurses and two doctors in the room. I believed them the whole time I inhaled my meal--ham sandwich, juice, milk, fruit. I could not comprehend why Tony was so glad she wasn't on oxygen. . .the nurse said she was fine. . .but she wasn't.

She was sick--very sick--and were it not for modern technology, she would have died.

She didn't though. She is asleep on her periwinkle blue, hot pink, lime green, and lemon yellow paisley sheets in her bed right this second. Ten of her friends and her brother were here tonight to celebrate the fact that she, aside from a benign Still's murmur and a scar atop her head from the internal monitor, bears not one mark from the 6 days she spent in the NICU waiting to be able to breathe, suck, and swallow at the same time. She turned 8 years old today. . .and all she knows of those first harrowing days are the few stories we've told her.

I, on the other hand, have some wrinkles, gray hairs, and memories that cause me to feel lots of emotions all at one time when they prance through my conscious train of thought. The scent of that icky red soap I had to scrub with every time I went to see her--the way she smelled--rocking her and singing to her--the first time she was able to nurse after 6 days of a crevage tube down her throat--Nurse Gloria and Nurse Jackie--the morning I woke up ready to hurt anyone that stuck my baby with anything else--the night I walked in at midnight to find the pediatrician in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt hovering over her, reading her chart, trying to figure out why she wasn't getting well faster. . .she had come back to the hospital to check on Victoria because she couldn't sleep.

This little girl is an amazement. She is glorious and beautiful and loud and energetic and bossy and kind and smart and creative. She loves pink and red and anything colored in rainbow order. She loves ANY kind of art project. She is scared of puppies and kittens but will hold a snake or a crab on the beach. She loves school. She is a whiz at math and can read at least two grade levels above her age. She is a sweet friend. She wants everyone to belong. She thinks dessert is a necessity. She talks A LOT. She tells her brother her "ideas" and "plans" causing him to exclaim, "I can't take it ANY MO, Vitoya!!!!" She is thoughtful and loving.

Above all she is a blessing. Because she is so healthy and vibrant and active, it is hard to recall that she came close to not being at all. But she is here--and we are blessed to see her grow. I called her a little girl. . .she's really getting to be a big girl. She is not a baby anymore--but she does still look like her baby self when she is asleep.

Sometimes I take her for granted. I don't always give her all the attention she wants or needs. The days slip by. I try to hold onto them--but they're gone like pearls from a string. So I sneak into her room at night and kiss her cheek--and when I do, she sucks her lip like she did when she was small. I pray over her as she dreams. I beg God to keep her in His care all the days of her life. She is my angel girl. And, today, she is eight years old.

We are Building a New House

2006-07-22T13:52:00.000-05:00

Tony and I are planners. We like to plan well in advance of most things we do. We very seldom choose to fly by the seat of our pants. . .plus it's already hard enough to find a good pair of jeans, and wings on one's posterior would make it nigh unto impossible.

That being said, we are building a New House. In two years. We are building The New House in two years after already having planned for it ten years now. . .and already having worked REALLY hard toward it for another year. We, like most young married couples, had debt. We had SUBSTANTIAL debt since I stayed home with babies for five years. . .and during that time there were lots of dentist and doctor and car emergencies. You will not find "trip to Cancun" on our back credit card statements. We are now about two months away from COMPLETELY paying off our debt. (Imagine the Dora the Explorer mariachi band of snails playing their little "you figured it out" song here.) So now we are REALLY planning The New House.

Tony and I have been blessed with similar taste in decor--he's not girly--I'm not masculine--but we agree on what we like. For instance. . .we have an over-large (silver) pocket-watch clock on our mantle. If you know Tony you could imagine him saying, "That is not a realistic looking clock." But instead he says, "That is really neat." And I get to keep the unrealistic pocket watch clock. Plus 13 years of marriage has let me know just how much quirky/unrealistic/pink I can get away with, so I don't push it.

Summer is a time when we have more latitude to dream--we can stay up until 3:00 in the morning searching the internet for the perfect rooster weather vane to place atop our new home (we have wooded acreage in a nearby county in a rural area). We can finally get a table and matching chairs (6 chairs, no bench) to go in our kitchen and since we are no longer in debt and since The New House is only two years away, we feel we can buy the kitchen dining set now since the one we've longed for is on sale at a store near us (plus we get an extra 20% off tomorrow ONLY. . .so no chit-chatting after church). We have finally decided on a kitchen look we like (similar to Antique Mommy's only with stainless steel appliances), and we are close to deciding on paint for our interior (Sherwin Williams "Filtered Sun"--looks pretty muddy in the can, but is a lovely buttery yellow on the walls).

You see, we are planners. It's a lot of fun. It's also a little scary--the fact that The New House is getting close. Do we really deserve to have it? Should we really want it this badly? I ponder these questions in relation to what God would have me do. I don't have any answers yet. . .just prayers of thankfulness. . .and more prayers for wisdom.

Changes are pretty scary to much of the population of my present house. Victoria has already cried today (twice) over the immanent demise of the current kitchen table. She has pondered and plotted several ways to keep it AND the new one too (in 1400 sq. ft. no less). Part of it is she doesn't want anything to change ever (her exact words) and part of it is that she somehow thinks (although she didn't state it but I know because she is my emotional twin) that we will be hurting the old tables' feelings by casting it aside like a used popsicle stick (which she also wants to save for an art project). (Now you are thinking we should be spending our money on therapy for our eldest and me rather than a new home, I know.) The verdict is still out on Thad, but right now there's atleast hope or him. Maybe that's why Tony and I are planners. If we plan and think ahead enough--then the changes aren't so scary--we feel more in control.

Of course that's a whole other issue--because we really aren't in control of many things--that's why we also have several back-up plans at the ready should the need arise. I guess/am hoping it doesn't hurt to THINK you're in control as long as you KNOW you're really not.

Anyway--ponderings. . .musings. . .dreaming. . .planning. We are building a New House. We're just buiding it two years from now. I thought you'd all like to know.

So Much Better than the Elementary Version

2006-07-21T16:03:00.000-05:00

Rebecca Kerr tagged me, and this is just what a needed today. . .a nice game of tag. I like this so much better than the elementary version. There is no running, no sweating, no hitting, no bases, and I'm not the slowest one.
The A-Z Tag Meme
Accent: VERY, VERY, VERY southern--even worse when I'm "back home"

Bible Book that I like: Hebrews

Chore I don’t care for: mopping or sweeping

Dog or Cat: Australian White's Tree frog, 8' Boa Constrictor, 3' Corn Snake, rabbit, 2 chickens, tarantula, a normal pet wouldn't stand a chance--plus I'm allergic--the animals are not mine

Essential Electronics: does air conditioner count? No? computer then

Favorite Movie: Pretty Woman, It's a Wonderful Life

Gold or Silver: Silver

Handbag I Carry Most Often: anything big and brown works for me

Insomnia: no

Job Title: teacher, mother, wife, etc.

Kids: Victoria (8), Thaddaeus (5), Tony (38) ;)

Living Arrangements: cookie cutter suburban

Most Memorable Moment: feeling my babies move for the first time

Naughtiest Childhood Behavior: I faked throwing up on a Wednesday night so I could stay home from church and watch a Shawn Cassidy special on t.v.

Phobia: You will laugh. . .snakes. And losing one of my children

Overnight Hospital Stays: Child bearing only

Quote: "Prayer doesn't change God. It changes me." C.S. Lewis

Religion: Follower of Christ

Siblings: Suzanne (chiropractor), Hal (electrician)

Time I Wake Up: School year 5:30, Summer 7:00-9:00 depending. . .kids are always up by 7:30, but they are now old enough to turn off the alarm, go downstairs, turn on the t.v., and graze at will until we get up

Unusual Talent: I love to organize, but it doesn't look like it by my house

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat: raw tomatoes

Worst Habit: relapses into nail biting, procrastination

X-rays: Orthodontal.

Yummy Stuff I Cook: chicken and rice, homemade carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, King Ranch Casserole, fried fish, a really, really, really wonderful chocolate cake

Zoo Animal I Like Most: Giraffes. . .they have such gorgeous eyelashes

So I pick Sandy, Tifty, and Donna

The World's Smallest Violin. . .

2006-07-20T15:42:00.000-05:00

Pre-epilogue. . .Before you read my whining. . .the dentist went great--no one had a cavity. My wisdom tooth can stay put. And my broken tooth was just missing porcelain on a crown--so nothing major to be done for any of us. AND Thad has his first wiggly tooth.

Remember when you were a kid and you whined about something. . .there was always some wise cracker raedy to rub their thumb and forefinger together and say, "This is the world's smallest violin playing 'My Heart Bleeds for You.'"

Well, I feel like whining.

I feel like whining because my summer is coming to a close, and I am desperately trying to finish all of the projects I wanted to get done with my two months.

I am whining because every member of my immediate family loves me so dearly, that they either want to be near me, asking me something, or having me watch them do something every second of the day (including Tony.)

I am whining because it has begun to rain and we have to leave the house in 8 minutes. . .

And I am whining because the reason we have to leave the house in 8 minutes is to go to the dentist. . .the kids and me. . .and it will be expensive. . .and I will probably receive confirmation that my wisdom teeth need to be cut out. . .

That being said, I have NOTHING to whine about--not one bloomin' thing--so I'm hoping that sending my whiney, pouty, teeny-weeny inconveniences out into cyber space will rid me of them.

I am blessed beyond anyone I know--I've had a wonderful summer, and I have a good job to which I am returning. My family loves me. We are getting much needed rain. And we can afford to pay at the dentist's office rather than putting it on plastic. AND I have a computer, a blog, and friends who will "listen" to me whine. :)

It be's that way sometimes.

You can find me

I think the move is final. . .

Torn between two weblogs

Music is FUN!!!

Call me Hester Pryne and give me my "A"

Contrary to popular belief

Mary Poppins

Six weird Things About Me

Mission maybe possible?

From a Wonderful Book

If you like some salty with your sweet

Something to get your week started

Memo

Oh, Christmas Tree

I am so proud. . .

Next I'll need an ear trumpet

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Don'tcha just love it Deux

Kidmas Carols

Can you hear the bell?

Cantankerous

I'm surprised there are that many

Thad's Lament

Please, hold the applause. . .

The Gauntlet, down it has been thrown . . .

By the way. . .

Just in case

Etc.

And even more. . .

A discussion about colors

And so it goes. . .

Don'tcha just love it when. . .

Even more of the same

Just So Stephanie has PUH-LENTY to read when she gets home

Exercise and Cold update

While I wait

Update on the Exercise Program

My nod to A.A. Milne: In which I announce my intentions regarding holiday poundage

Stay Home and Play Day

Second installment of Nothing

Just NO-thing

You'd never know

What?

Redemption

(*WARNING* THIS POST IS NEITHER FOR THE FAINT OF HEART NOR THE SHORT ON TIME OR PATIENCE. I JUST NEEDED A FORUM)

Must. . .be. . .creative. . .

Stream of Consciousness Potpourri

Elocution

SOUNDS disgusting, TASTES divine

Lists for a Saturday

Just thinkin'

Addendum to below: Conversation Heard this VERY Morning

Dust Bunnies Roasting on a gas heater flame. . .

Thad and the Transformers save the Pilgrims

My Boy

"Have yourself. . .a merry little Christmas. . ."

Dis-

Not at all what I intended

You just gotta love it when. . .

Cover us. . .we're goin' in.

One of those blogger things

Unapologetic Cuteness

Why is it. . .

"Pigs and Geese and Ducks better scurry. . .

Happy Birthday, Dear Sarah

Reality Blogging: Welcome to our home

Addendum

Part 3: Happy Birthday to you. . .

Part 2: To boldly go

And now for something completely different. . .

My Kids

A Very Special Gift

I've been tagged by a book thing

Three of Three

Two of Three

One of Three

Gone to Galveston

Little Legacies

Post Two. . .in which I digress, sort of

(WARNING THIS POST IS NEITHER FOR THE FAINT OF HEART NOR THE SHORT ON TIME OR PATIENCE. I JUST NEEDED A FORUM)

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