There are only 18 days of school left. Actually, I only have to be there for 15 of them because this week I have three days when I'm attending a writing seminar. It is the follow-up to the four day one I attended two weeks ago, so I know it will be well-worth my time. However it is always a huge load to write lesson plans for someone else to implement, and most of my subs this year have been rather nincompoop-ish. Blah.
It is a hard crowd some hours. There was a boy today who was briefly cowed by my calling his mom in the middle of our spelling test to set up a conference for Monday morning before school. But, really, by the end of the hour, he was back at it again--smartest mouth in the west. Sigh. 15 days, 15 days, repeat and take deep breaths.
Tomorrow is a funeral for a lady I know who was hit by a car. She had a tragic life, filled with elder care, deadbeat children, drug-selling grandchildren and alcohol. She's better off, but I fear for her old father, and I have no idea who will get her home and her stuff. I'm just going to go and pay my respects and serve lunch. Sigh. Just when you think you've got problems, you find out about people who REALLY have problems.
It's starting to be that 80-90 degree weather that is just so lovely here in the desert. The pool is warming up, the tomatoes are ripening, I've got beets and peas and flowers. And in 18 days, I can stay home and clean out closets and put together photo albums and swim all day if I want. Summertime!!!
Friday, May 09, 2008
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Faith, Promoted
You know those faith-promoting stories you read about how someone read something, and it really helped them and blah blah? I had a real-life one today. It was spooky.
A couple of months ago, I showed my RS president the article I had printed in the Ensign (because I was being vain.) But she really liked it and asked me to use it as the lesson for this month's presidency message since it was my turn. She felt it would be very relevant for our sisters. One thing about being published is that the editors edit. In my case, they pared the article down to just one aspect of the topic I'd written about, and mostly removed my "voice". So, I went back to my computer and printed off the original talk I'd prepared for a RS lesson eleven years ago, and I gave that one.
I'd begun to give the lesson, and I started to make a point, and then I interrupted myself to explain why I was giving this lesson. Actually, the RS president interrupted me and asked if she could explain why I was giving this lesson. She showed off the magazine, and gushed in a very nice way about how thrilled she was to be having the author of this excellent article speaking to us today. She's quite good at this.
So, I went on to give the lesson, it went well. It's interesting how the Spirit steps in and helps you to know what to say to people. One point I made was that this wasn't a "formula for success" story. I emphasized that all we can do is our best, but our family members have their agency and their ultimate devotion to the gospel is out of our hands. But not to ever despair, because God is really in charge and we don't know everything. Our peace of mind is knowing we did our part, and that the payoff for good parenting might not even be seen in this life. However, I pointed out, our children were all adults, and still good friends with one another, and still maintained positive relationships with us, the parents, so I felt like a huge blessing was mine right there.
After the lesson, there was a few minutes left and a sister stood up to bear her testimony--you know--first Sunday and all. She was very emotional and could hardly speak. She told how her sister had sent her this magazine when it was published and told her to read this article. The sister (in my ward) had loved the article and told how it was so important to her right then and had given her something positive to do with her really difficult family situation. She and her husband were divorced shortly after that, but the principles in the article helped her keep it together with her kids and finish raising them to adulthood. I was floored. She thanked me for writing it. She told me she was really glad to know me, and happy to let me know how it had helped her.
Wow.
A couple of months ago, I showed my RS president the article I had printed in the Ensign (because I was being vain.) But she really liked it and asked me to use it as the lesson for this month's presidency message since it was my turn. She felt it would be very relevant for our sisters. One thing about being published is that the editors edit. In my case, they pared the article down to just one aspect of the topic I'd written about, and mostly removed my "voice". So, I went back to my computer and printed off the original talk I'd prepared for a RS lesson eleven years ago, and I gave that one.
I'd begun to give the lesson, and I started to make a point, and then I interrupted myself to explain why I was giving this lesson. Actually, the RS president interrupted me and asked if she could explain why I was giving this lesson. She showed off the magazine, and gushed in a very nice way about how thrilled she was to be having the author of this excellent article speaking to us today. She's quite good at this.
So, I went on to give the lesson, it went well. It's interesting how the Spirit steps in and helps you to know what to say to people. One point I made was that this wasn't a "formula for success" story. I emphasized that all we can do is our best, but our family members have their agency and their ultimate devotion to the gospel is out of our hands. But not to ever despair, because God is really in charge and we don't know everything. Our peace of mind is knowing we did our part, and that the payoff for good parenting might not even be seen in this life. However, I pointed out, our children were all adults, and still good friends with one another, and still maintained positive relationships with us, the parents, so I felt like a huge blessing was mine right there.
After the lesson, there was a few minutes left and a sister stood up to bear her testimony--you know--first Sunday and all. She was very emotional and could hardly speak. She told how her sister had sent her this magazine when it was published and told her to read this article. The sister (in my ward) had loved the article and told how it was so important to her right then and had given her something positive to do with her really difficult family situation. She and her husband were divorced shortly after that, but the principles in the article helped her keep it together with her kids and finish raising them to adulthood. I was floored. She thanked me for writing it. She told me she was really glad to know me, and happy to let me know how it had helped her.
Wow.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Where Have You Been?
Well, I haven't been to London to visit the Queen. But I have been to the Las Vegas airport (three times), soccer practice, a baby shower, a wedding shower, lunch with my friend, dinner with my son's family, and church with them too, back to the Salt Lake airport, to my school, to a "training for trainers" writing seminar and, whew...home to blog.
This weekend I took a whirlwind trip to Utah to do some of those afore mentioned things. A couple of glitches occured on the trip:
The flight on Friday was delayed by 5-- no--51/2, no--now it will be six hours late...as I waited at the desk and we agreed that they would just put me on the first flight out in the morning instead. So, Cool Guy came back to the airport and took me home for a (very) short night in my own bed before we tried the flying-to-Utah thing again.
As I waited in the security line, I realized, with a sudden lurch of my heart dropping into my stomach, that my driver's license was in the back pocket of the pants from the night before, now lying in a chair in my room at home. The only picture ID I had was my cheerful Elementary School Teacher badge. That (and a thorough searching, wanding, poofing of air, wiping my luggage with the little pads, and two trips through the metal detector) got me on the flight finally.
When I landed in SLC, before I'd left the secure zone, I stopped to ask some officials what would be the best recourse for my return trip--since I really, really wanted to be able to return the next day. [My last experience at their security, several months earlier, had been with Sgt. Anal-Retentive who objected to my careless packing of 3.5 ounces semi-liquids...] They said that there were a number of ID alternatives, work badges, passport, driver's lic-----PASSPORT???? DUH!!! I have a passport. It's in my purse. The one that was wanded and swiped and poofed and x-rayed. So, I just flashed that on my return trip and voila--no questions.
While on my 36 hour adventure, I did all those other things too. It was very fun, and is the reason why I made the big move from East to West--family milestones, and fun weekends with the grandchildren participating in their ordinary lives.
This weekend I took a whirlwind trip to Utah to do some of those afore mentioned things. A couple of glitches occured on the trip:
The flight on Friday was delayed by 5-- no--51/2, no--now it will be six hours late...as I waited at the desk and we agreed that they would just put me on the first flight out in the morning instead. So, Cool Guy came back to the airport and took me home for a (very) short night in my own bed before we tried the flying-to-Utah thing again.
As I waited in the security line, I realized, with a sudden lurch of my heart dropping into my stomach, that my driver's license was in the back pocket of the pants from the night before, now lying in a chair in my room at home. The only picture ID I had was my cheerful Elementary School Teacher badge. That (and a thorough searching, wanding, poofing of air, wiping my luggage with the little pads, and two trips through the metal detector) got me on the flight finally.
When I landed in SLC, before I'd left the secure zone, I stopped to ask some officials what would be the best recourse for my return trip--since I really, really wanted to be able to return the next day. [My last experience at their security, several months earlier, had been with Sgt. Anal-Retentive who objected to my careless packing of 3.5 ounces semi-liquids...] They said that there were a number of ID alternatives, work badges, passport, driver's lic-----PASSPORT???? DUH!!! I have a passport. It's in my purse. The one that was wanded and swiped and poofed and x-rayed. So, I just flashed that on my return trip and voila--no questions.
While on my 36 hour adventure, I did all those other things too. It was very fun, and is the reason why I made the big move from East to West--family milestones, and fun weekends with the grandchildren participating in their ordinary lives.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
My Child, Right or Wrong
We had another one of those incidents at school yesterday and today when I wonder about parents who don't realize that this child is their kid for the rest of their lives, and decisions they make about misdeeds have long-term consequences. I'm not going to be involved ever again in 29 more days. Thank goodness.
This has happened to me before, years ago. A child yells obscenities at some other kid, or tells a huge lie that gets other people in big trouble (some adults in this event). Then the child gets ratted out by a whole variety of other children who are astounded or frightened or offended. The perpetrator is called on the carpet, evidence presented, the child--no longer credible---tearfully confesses, writes apologies, tells everyone they are sorry. But the situation requires parental notification because part of the consequence involves some loss of privileges at school and, well, it was horrible behavior and parents should be involved.
Then, the student goes home and--incredibly--convinces the parents that he/she didn't really do it at all. Everyone else lied, the teacher, the kids, the principal--everyone! And the parents come back to school and defend the child and insist that the child does not deserve the consequences, why are people always lying about their kid, what is the consequence for the other kids who lied, how can this teacher continue to be maligning my child only...etc.
It blows my mind. It isn't just poverty kids, either. If parents do this enough times, then what do they expect when this child is a teenager and the results of the misdeeds are far more than lost recesses? Do they realize that sometimes their child makes bad choices? It's normal. Dealing with it at nine years old is so much easier than when it involves the police and lawyers or unwed parenthood or expulsion. Sigh...I've raised kids. It isn't easy. But when your child is wrong, it's okay to support the learning process of natural consequences. And any child can be wrong sometimes.
This has happened to me before, years ago. A child yells obscenities at some other kid, or tells a huge lie that gets other people in big trouble (some adults in this event). Then the child gets ratted out by a whole variety of other children who are astounded or frightened or offended. The perpetrator is called on the carpet, evidence presented, the child--no longer credible---tearfully confesses, writes apologies, tells everyone they are sorry. But the situation requires parental notification because part of the consequence involves some loss of privileges at school and, well, it was horrible behavior and parents should be involved.
Then, the student goes home and--incredibly--convinces the parents that he/she didn't really do it at all. Everyone else lied, the teacher, the kids, the principal--everyone! And the parents come back to school and defend the child and insist that the child does not deserve the consequences, why are people always lying about their kid, what is the consequence for the other kids who lied, how can this teacher continue to be maligning my child only...etc.
It blows my mind. It isn't just poverty kids, either. If parents do this enough times, then what do they expect when this child is a teenager and the results of the misdeeds are far more than lost recesses? Do they realize that sometimes their child makes bad choices? It's normal. Dealing with it at nine years old is so much easier than when it involves the police and lawyers or unwed parenthood or expulsion. Sigh...I've raised kids. It isn't easy. But when your child is wrong, it's okay to support the learning process of natural consequences. And any child can be wrong sometimes.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Odd Maladies
I found a new, unusual malady this weekend. In the process, I realized that I have completely rejected my well-meaning doctor's advice. But part of this is because perhaps I chose the wrong specialist to go to with my complaint.
On Sunday, a week ago, I began to experience pain in my left knee. It was aching, and especially so when I got down on the floor where I often sit and do school work, or put together photo albums, or other projects where I like to spread out. By Monday evening, my leg hurt very badly, but only if I crouched down, or climbed stairs. It didn't hurt to stand, or walk on flat ground. By Wednesday at noon, my leg was swollen tight in my slacks. It was obvious to my co-workers, and the school nurse nearly forced me out the door to the doctor. But I waited until after school to go. Again, the pain was mostly from blood constriction and so was really only painful when I knelt, crouched or any other activity that bent my knee with weight on it.
The doctor at the walk-in clinic listened to me, checked it out, called ahead and sent me straight to the ER for a sonogram to check for bloodclots. That was my thought too. However, no bloodclots! I hobbled through the day Thursday, then Friday I left school early for an appointment at the ortho clinic.
No, it didn't hurt when he did this, or that, or that thing either. An x-ray pronounced my joints to totally free of arthritis ("They are the knees of an 18 year old." I'm glad Trish can't read this--she'd have been jealous.) So, I think he felt compelled to make a diagnosis, and it was iliotibial band syndrome. He prescribed PT for 6 weeks and ice and ibuprofen.
That night I looked it up and read all about it. Hey! It is something that almost exclusively affects long-distance runners or other faithful joggers/runners. Well, that's definitely NOT me. So I kept researching knee pain all the while my stupid knee is feeling better and better.
On Saturday, I had a job at Primary Activity Day, and I spent part of my time sitting on the floor working with my little groups in the rotation. Up and down, scrunched all up--no knee pain at all! The knee is fine, no swelling, no pain. Hmmm.
Here's what I've self-diagnosed: pseudogout. Yes, it fits everything. It is similar to my annoying hip, and I have all the right symptoms. The cure/treatment? None...But next time my knee swells up ridiculously for NO REASON AT ALL, and I limp on it for a few days, I will relax because I know that it will also resolve itself after a while, just like that.
I'm not disrepecting my ortho doctor at all in ignoring his diagnosis, but I'm also not going to blow six weeks on PT for a condition that doesn't exist. So, I'll just find an immunologist, get a blood test for the calcium and check my parathyroid and we'll see what's up. Weird body...
On Sunday, a week ago, I began to experience pain in my left knee. It was aching, and especially so when I got down on the floor where I often sit and do school work, or put together photo albums, or other projects where I like to spread out. By Monday evening, my leg hurt very badly, but only if I crouched down, or climbed stairs. It didn't hurt to stand, or walk on flat ground. By Wednesday at noon, my leg was swollen tight in my slacks. It was obvious to my co-workers, and the school nurse nearly forced me out the door to the doctor. But I waited until after school to go. Again, the pain was mostly from blood constriction and so was really only painful when I knelt, crouched or any other activity that bent my knee with weight on it.
The doctor at the walk-in clinic listened to me, checked it out, called ahead and sent me straight to the ER for a sonogram to check for bloodclots. That was my thought too. However, no bloodclots! I hobbled through the day Thursday, then Friday I left school early for an appointment at the ortho clinic.
No, it didn't hurt when he did this, or that, or that thing either. An x-ray pronounced my joints to totally free of arthritis ("They are the knees of an 18 year old." I'm glad Trish can't read this--she'd have been jealous.) So, I think he felt compelled to make a diagnosis, and it was iliotibial band syndrome. He prescribed PT for 6 weeks and ice and ibuprofen.
That night I looked it up and read all about it. Hey! It is something that almost exclusively affects long-distance runners or other faithful joggers/runners. Well, that's definitely NOT me. So I kept researching knee pain all the while my stupid knee is feeling better and better.
On Saturday, I had a job at Primary Activity Day, and I spent part of my time sitting on the floor working with my little groups in the rotation. Up and down, scrunched all up--no knee pain at all! The knee is fine, no swelling, no pain. Hmmm.
Here's what I've self-diagnosed: pseudogout. Yes, it fits everything. It is similar to my annoying hip, and I have all the right symptoms. The cure/treatment? None...But next time my knee swells up ridiculously for NO REASON AT ALL, and I limp on it for a few days, I will relax because I know that it will also resolve itself after a while, just like that.
I'm not disrepecting my ortho doctor at all in ignoring his diagnosis, but I'm also not going to blow six weeks on PT for a condition that doesn't exist. So, I'll just find an immunologist, get a blood test for the calcium and check my parathyroid and we'll see what's up. Weird body...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Torture by Tedium
We had an "inservice" day today: teachers come to school for training, students stay at home. I just don't know where principals find these people. Actually, I think the woman "training" us today works for the district. She's come to our school a number of times. It is excruciating to sit through her presentations. I'm sure she means well, and I'm sure she's highly educated, and I'm confidant that her data and research are all spot on. However...her speaking style and presentation style is deeply irritating, and not just to me. The only thing that saved us is that she was only responsible for 90 minutes of our time today. But it brought home to me something one of my co-workers said earlier.
She told me how, when finding out she was a teacher, people would ask her why we had several of these days each year when the students stayed home and the teachers came to the school. (It was asked because they were peeved about having to provide other arrangements for their children since the free babysitting by college graduates wasn't available.) My colleague replied, "It is so we teachers can be reminded periodically how it is EVERYDAY for our students: trapped in a chair, forced to listen to someone drone on, no choice in the matter."
I thought that was very astute, and I was especially struck by it today when we came back from a bathroom break to find that lady setting up her presentation--utter dismay, uggh-how long will it last? Blah. So, I'll try harder than ever to make my classroom a place where students don't come in the door thinking, "Blah, her again...how long will this last?"
She told me how, when finding out she was a teacher, people would ask her why we had several of these days each year when the students stayed home and the teachers came to the school. (It was asked because they were peeved about having to provide other arrangements for their children since the free babysitting by college graduates wasn't available.) My colleague replied, "It is so we teachers can be reminded periodically how it is EVERYDAY for our students: trapped in a chair, forced to listen to someone drone on, no choice in the matter."
I thought that was very astute, and I was especially struck by it today when we came back from a bathroom break to find that lady setting up her presentation--utter dismay, uggh-how long will it last? Blah. So, I'll try harder than ever to make my classroom a place where students don't come in the door thinking, "Blah, her again...how long will this last?"
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Long Time--No See
I guess one main reason I haven't been bloggging is that my right hand is still very sore, and it hurts to type. My palm wound is irritated by the edge of the keyboard. Also, I've just had so little free time that I didn't use it blogging--I read the paper or slept. So here are some random thoughts:
We put up chicken wire fences (or cercas de gallinero) along the rows of peas in the garden yesterday. This morning I went out to look how things were doing, and, just as planned, the pea tendrils were curling around the wire for support as they grow up higher and higher. What struck me was: how do the faceless, eyeless pea plants know there is a fence there for them to curl their stringy tendrils around for support? Do they have nerve endings? Do they have some sort of primitive nervous system that senses the proximity of the fencing? Does this mean that they scream (silently of course, since they also don't have mouths) when you pick the pea pods? Maybe I'll just stick to tomatoes and beets in the future.
"La mano derecha me deule, la mano izquierda no me duele. " See what I've learned in my Reality Spanish class? I can tell you that the hand on the right hurts me, but the hand on the left does not hurt me. It was a thrill for my ELL students to hear me discuss my health with them en Espanol. This class ends on Tuesday and it will be a relief, because I've had an obligation every M-T-W since January because of this class (other things are sucking off my M & W) so I'll be glad to be finished with it. I have learned an amazing amount of things, however, and I'm really glad I took it. I must work on it regularly so I can retain what's there.
The weather here has become fantastic. Everyday it is just the right amount of warm--80 degrees. It cools off pleasantly at night. The pool water is warming daily. The sky is clear, and sunset and sunrise are simply exotic with the deep indigo sky illuminated around the edge with gold, hightlighting the black silhouettes of the palm trees and jagged mountains in relief on all sides. Wow. Spring in the desert.
We had a delightful visit from two of the grandchildren for a few days. We played in sand, splashed in the "little pool", and repotted plants. We went for a walk in the desert and looked at ants and spiders with the magnifying glass. We just lived the routine of a 2 and 4 year old for five days. I realize now why humans should be young when we reproduce---it is only then that we enough energy to keep up with tiny people.
I am booked for a trip to SLC in two weeks. While there for a day, I will attend a bridal shower, a baby shower, and a folk dance program in which our other grandchild is participating. Fun Times!!
We put up chicken wire fences (or cercas de gallinero) along the rows of peas in the garden yesterday. This morning I went out to look how things were doing, and, just as planned, the pea tendrils were curling around the wire for support as they grow up higher and higher. What struck me was: how do the faceless, eyeless pea plants know there is a fence there for them to curl their stringy tendrils around for support? Do they have nerve endings? Do they have some sort of primitive nervous system that senses the proximity of the fencing? Does this mean that they scream (silently of course, since they also don't have mouths) when you pick the pea pods? Maybe I'll just stick to tomatoes and beets in the future.
"La mano derecha me deule, la mano izquierda no me duele. " See what I've learned in my Reality Spanish class? I can tell you that the hand on the right hurts me, but the hand on the left does not hurt me. It was a thrill for my ELL students to hear me discuss my health with them en Espanol. This class ends on Tuesday and it will be a relief, because I've had an obligation every M-T-W since January because of this class (other things are sucking off my M & W) so I'll be glad to be finished with it. I have learned an amazing amount of things, however, and I'm really glad I took it. I must work on it regularly so I can retain what's there.
The weather here has become fantastic. Everyday it is just the right amount of warm--80 degrees. It cools off pleasantly at night. The pool water is warming daily. The sky is clear, and sunset and sunrise are simply exotic with the deep indigo sky illuminated around the edge with gold, hightlighting the black silhouettes of the palm trees and jagged mountains in relief on all sides. Wow. Spring in the desert.
We had a delightful visit from two of the grandchildren for a few days. We played in sand, splashed in the "little pool", and repotted plants. We went for a walk in the desert and looked at ants and spiders with the magnifying glass. We just lived the routine of a 2 and 4 year old for five days. I realize now why humans should be young when we reproduce---it is only then that we enough energy to keep up with tiny people.
I am booked for a trip to SLC in two weeks. While there for a day, I will attend a bridal shower, a baby shower, and a folk dance program in which our other grandchild is participating. Fun Times!!
Thursday, April 03, 2008
First Swim
Today, I jumped in the pool. It was 69 degrees, but entirely tolerable. I think the ocean at Port Hueneme was colder than that most of the time when we'd take our early morning swim.
We have two of the grandchildren visiting this week, and the "little" pool is a popular place. Cool Guy heats up the hot tub to around 97 and gets in with S-Boogie and they play until they're both pruned. Today, I took one of my personal days off from school and so I was home all day to join them. We wanted an object that was floating in the "big" pool, so I just jumped in to retrieve it. I hadn't actually been in the "little" pool long enough to be all warmed up and the water in the "big" pool wasn't that bad. I swam laps for about 10 minutes and then got back into the spa. Which felt very nice in contrast. But, I'll swim again tomorrow, because each day, it just keeps getting a degree or two closer to fabulous. The secret is the amount of time the sun shines on the masonry around the pool warming it up. Also, the fact that it no longer cools off much at night. Our temperatures travel between 50 and 75 these days, so the warmth in the ground keeps the pool water warm. This winter I checked the pool temperature after I'd been circulating the filters and it was 47, brrrrrrrrrrrr.
Summer is a'commin'.
We have two of the grandchildren visiting this week, and the "little" pool is a popular place. Cool Guy heats up the hot tub to around 97 and gets in with S-Boogie and they play until they're both pruned. Today, I took one of my personal days off from school and so I was home all day to join them. We wanted an object that was floating in the "big" pool, so I just jumped in to retrieve it. I hadn't actually been in the "little" pool long enough to be all warmed up and the water in the "big" pool wasn't that bad. I swam laps for about 10 minutes and then got back into the spa. Which felt very nice in contrast. But, I'll swim again tomorrow, because each day, it just keeps getting a degree or two closer to fabulous. The secret is the amount of time the sun shines on the masonry around the pool warming it up. Also, the fact that it no longer cools off much at night. Our temperatures travel between 50 and 75 these days, so the warmth in the ground keeps the pool water warm. This winter I checked the pool temperature after I'd been circulating the filters and it was 47, brrrrrrrrrrrr.
Summer is a'commin'.
Monday, March 31, 2008
I Have Two Little Hands
Actually these two hands are rather large and gangly and ever so useful for milking cows and changing diapers and gardening and writing on a chalkboard. But--they are a team again. They are required to be a careful, gentle team: no soaking in water until two more days so the holes can heal where the stitches were. And wear a big bandaid for a couple of days. No lifting anything over two pounds for one week, then nothing over five pounds for a second week. And my palm looks like Dr. Frankenstein worked on me. Maybe I'll show my students tomorrow. Fourth graders love gory stuff.
But! I can shampoo my own hair, and wash by using both of my palms, also apply lotion! I do have to thank Cool Guy for the shampooing help. He has a gentle touch and could moonlight at a salon if things get tight.
But! I can shampoo my own hair, and wash by using both of my palms, also apply lotion! I do have to thank Cool Guy for the shampooing help. He has a gentle touch and could moonlight at a salon if things get tight.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
My Left Hand--(Not Starring Daniel Day Lewis)
Myleft hand is tired. For over a half a century it got a free ride there on the end of my arm. But for the last ten days it has been called into service for which it is entirely unprepared.
- It cannot brush teeth. I've finally resorted to an electric toothbrush.
- It cannot hold a fork properly. I eat most of my food without the fork as a result.
- It cannot use a curling iron without dropping it onto my forehead repeatedly.
- It cannot cut an orange--this requires down, and back and forth, simultaneously.
- It cannot open a jar by itself--to be fair, I don't think the right hand could either, but the left hand is particularly puny when it come to any lid of any container, including the butter tub--duh.
But, it has acquired a few skills:
- It can zip my pants and fasten the button of jeans.
- It can use the computer mouse if I put it on the left side of the keyboard.
- It can turn the key in the lock of the front door.
By the time this miserable bandage is removed on Monday, I'm afraid I'll need physical therapy to help my left hand and the entire arm recover from its sudden thrust into the spotlight. For sure my brain is going to need therapy to recover from the sudden need to reprogram my poor left hand.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Death Valley Day
By Wednesday, I got so bored hanging around the house trying to avoid using my right hand, that Cool Guy agreed to a trip over the border to Death Valley.
This sign at the entrance points out that the Timbasha Shoshone live here. They have lived here for many centuries, and they have a little settlement down the road from the visitor's center. You are invited to go visit them, and another time I'd like to just to admire people who have such amazing stamina and adaptability to have as their ancestral home such a forbidding environment. Their homes are clustered in an small oasis by Furnace Creek. There are green places in Death Valley. But they are outnumbered by the dry ones.
If you look carefully in the very center of this photo, you will see a tiny sign that says "Sea Level". As a visitor stands reading the information on the signs that overlook a vast white playa identified as Badwater, many other visitors are walking as they follow the boardwalk to its end out onto the saltbed. One of the instructions on the visitor information plaque is to look over your shoulder. There, high up the cliffs opposite of where you've parked your car is this sign that is easier to read standing there, than in my photo. It points out how high up the cliff you must go to get to sea level. You are standing at the lowest point in the contiguous United States: Badwater Basin--282 feet below sea level. Cool.
It would have been very daunting to stumble into this valley thinking you were almost to the ocean, or at least in the part of California where you could mine gold and have some neighbors, too. But some people finally found something to mine--borax--and while I don't know if it made anyone wealthy, it does make your laundry nice.
{Note: on Monday this week I had carpal tunnel surgery done on my right hand and so I'm typing this with my left hand...mostly.}
It is only about three hours drive to the national park from here so it was a leisurely day. We planned a stay at Tecopa Hot Springs in one of their little cabins so we wouldn't have to go all the back in one day and, again, we had a really nice visit there. Tecopa is a weird place--truly just a wide spot in the road--there is one restaurant in another wide spot ten miles up the road. Other than that, it is an hour's drive to the nearest town with any other restaurant or store or anything. But the "waters" are lovely. Everytime we go, there are several Japanese couples also visiting for the theraputic benefits for which the hot springs are internationally known.
Death Valley--to use a fourth grade adjective--is cool. The air temperature was 85, and therefore bearable the day before the vernal equinox--you can hardly get any spring-ier than that! By summer it will be a blast furnace. The place itself is very interesting. If you're not intrigued by geology, don't bother. However, if rocks and the formation of the earth with its attendant geothermal anomalies and breccia and mineral deposits and uplifts and sedimentation and fault lines are just up your alley, then COME ON DOWN! Death Valley has it all.
We kept wondering aloud about the dismay of those poor early settlers just wanting to get to California who mistakenly ended up trying to cross this piece of forsaken territory. It's quite clear when you finally get over the eastern mountains into the basin that leaving won't be easy. The mountains on the western rim soar from the floor straight up 11,000 feet. There are no foothills and no obvious passes. The rivers that flow into Death Valley just sink into the earth and then bubble up elsewhere in its vastness bringing mineral deposits with them that turn any pond into a brackish salt-rimmed pool where only small organisms more suited for the ocean can live. And Death Valley is very long, north to south, so just gutting it out and walking either of those directions isn't exactly easy either. But it was the only way to leave.
At the visitor's center there's a motto coined by the 19th century people who passed through:
20 miles from wood, 20 miles from water, 40 feet from Hell
Yup. But, in a modern conveyance, with air conditioning, water bottles, and our sunscreen, we had a lovely day in Hell. So did hordes of other visitors, and it was interesting to listen to their conversations, many of which were conducted in a variety of languages I do not speak or understand. It was an international day in one of America's most unique National Parks. We heard Italian, Portuguese, French, Spanish, Japanese, Hebrew, and a Slavic language I did not recognize and didn't feel brazen enough to ask its speakers to identify. (Imagine! me---shy...) Here are some photos, which will do more credit to the scenery than my description.
This sign at the entrance points out that the Timbasha Shoshone live here. They have lived here for many centuries, and they have a little settlement down the road from the visitor's center. You are invited to go visit them, and another time I'd like to just to admire people who have such amazing stamina and adaptability to have as their ancestral home such a forbidding environment. Their homes are clustered in an small oasis by Furnace Creek. There are green places in Death Valley. But they are outnumbered by the dry ones.If you look carefully in the very center of this photo, you will see a tiny sign that says "Sea Level". As a visitor stands reading the information on the signs that overlook a vast white playa identified as Badwater, many other visitors are walking as they follow the boardwalk to its end out onto the saltbed. One of the instructions on the visitor information plaque is to look over your shoulder. There, high up the cliffs opposite of where you've parked your car is this sign that is easier to read standing there, than in my photo. It points out how high up the cliff you must go to get to sea level. You are standing at the lowest point in the contiguous United States: Badwater Basin--282 feet below sea level. Cool.It would have been very daunting to stumble into this valley thinking you were almost to the ocean, or at least in the part of California where you could mine gold and have some neighbors, too. But some people finally found something to mine--borax--and while I don't know if it made anyone wealthy, it does make your laundry nice.We'll go back to Death Valley. There are several roads that take you to a trail head where a short hike leads you to another fascinating nature effect. But, we'll go hiking next year in November or December. Here's one last amazing view: Zabriskie Point. It has no plant life, but it has vivid colors, textures and geology!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Looking at Another View
I had some interesting insights to a couple of my most difficult students on Friday. Since we always dismiss the students 90 minutes early on Friday and have coordinated team meetings, I have just 45 minutes with each class. We often just do our spelling test or some other assessment, but this week, the last day before Spring Break began, I had a very casual day. There were at least five students missing from each class because no matter how much time you give people off for a holiday, there are always quite a few who take more than that. Anyway, our "job" was to create some simple Easter decorations for my friend who is the charge nurse at a nursing home. We made something for Christmas for all 60+ patients and so I decided to do something again for Easter--I copied some outlines of decorated eggs and every student got to color one and write a greeting on the back, then punch a hole in the end and hang it from yarn.
One child is quite lacking in impulse control. He snatches, he leaps out of his seat and asks later, he has to be first, he has to be #1 at all times and then moans and groans impatiently when he has to wait on others to take their turn. Apparently, at home the world revolves around him. When he finished the coloring part, he cut it out and then (literally) tossed it at me and said, "Here, finish it. I can't." All it meant was that he didn't know the steps to punch the hole, and choose a yarn piece, thread it through and tie a knot. I said, "No, you finish it. Here's what you do." I showed him a finished one and pointed out the items he'd need to do it.
Big Sigh...but then he picked it up and started to try. But--again--it took a couple of attempts, and he couldn't master the knot immediately. Again--give up, turn to leave, throw it at the mom figure to finish. No, I patiently showed him again how to roll the yarn around his finger and pull the ends through to make a knot. After three tries he suceeded. I realized that maybe no one in his world has ever insisted that he keep trying in the face of the impatient, shouting, Big Sigh--almost-a-tantrum, method he employs when he can't get it on the first attempt. Or maybe someone at home would always rather do it themselves because they are in a hurry, or want it done "right", or some other reason that eliminates the feeble attempts of the very young. In my experience, children's ability to do a job is in inverse proportion to their eagerness to do it. ie: a 3 year old LOVES to do dishes---12 year olds DON"T.
So, the next insight was with the Wild Monkey in a Cage: I helped him with something and asked where his mother lived (since I know he lives with Granny and dad.) "She didn't love me, so she left. And that's why I'm so bad---there's no one to show me love. A dad punishes you, a mother loves you." He declared all this in the tone of boy who has heard it over and over. So I said that he'd have to learn how to make good choices some other way then, huh? I don't spend enough time with him to have this new mantra repeated as often as the old one. However, I think I'll say it as often as possible anyway. It couldn't hurt!
One child is quite lacking in impulse control. He snatches, he leaps out of his seat and asks later, he has to be first, he has to be #1 at all times and then moans and groans impatiently when he has to wait on others to take their turn. Apparently, at home the world revolves around him. When he finished the coloring part, he cut it out and then (literally) tossed it at me and said, "Here, finish it. I can't." All it meant was that he didn't know the steps to punch the hole, and choose a yarn piece, thread it through and tie a knot. I said, "No, you finish it. Here's what you do." I showed him a finished one and pointed out the items he'd need to do it.
Big Sigh...but then he picked it up and started to try. But--again--it took a couple of attempts, and he couldn't master the knot immediately. Again--give up, turn to leave, throw it at the mom figure to finish. No, I patiently showed him again how to roll the yarn around his finger and pull the ends through to make a knot. After three tries he suceeded. I realized that maybe no one in his world has ever insisted that he keep trying in the face of the impatient, shouting, Big Sigh--almost-a-tantrum, method he employs when he can't get it on the first attempt. Or maybe someone at home would always rather do it themselves because they are in a hurry, or want it done "right", or some other reason that eliminates the feeble attempts of the very young. In my experience, children's ability to do a job is in inverse proportion to their eagerness to do it. ie: a 3 year old LOVES to do dishes---12 year olds DON"T.
So, the next insight was with the Wild Monkey in a Cage: I helped him with something and asked where his mother lived (since I know he lives with Granny and dad.) "She didn't love me, so she left. And that's why I'm so bad---there's no one to show me love. A dad punishes you, a mother loves you." He declared all this in the tone of boy who has heard it over and over. So I said that he'd have to learn how to make good choices some other way then, huh? I don't spend enough time with him to have this new mantra repeated as often as the old one. However, I think I'll say it as often as possible anyway. It couldn't hurt!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
S-L-O-W-E-S-T Week of the Year
On Friday, March 14, at 3:43 P.M. I am officially on Spring Break. That is approximately 2 months away---according to the inner clock my brain is operating on this week. Every day this week has gone by so S-L-O-W-L-Y. All the other teachers agree with me on this. It isn't just me. The students came in on Monday in a coma because of the combination of Daylight Saving Time and the usual staying-up-too-late on the weekend. Then, as they've shaken off the sleepiness as the week wears on, they've become increasingly crazed. I'm just so glad we finished our BIG TEST last week. Some of the grades are testing this week and I feel sorry for them...
But, Friday will come, it always does. It'll be fun to not go to work for a few days. I am, however, having surgery on my right wrist for carpal tunnel repair. But, at least I'll get one week of no school with the cast. Only two weeks with it. Blah. But it'll be good to get this fixed.
But, Friday will come, it always does. It'll be fun to not go to work for a few days. I am, however, having surgery on my right wrist for carpal tunnel repair. But, at least I'll get one week of no school with the cast. Only two weeks with it. Blah. But it'll be good to get this fixed.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Garden Lust
You've seen the cliche of the woman sitting in a store surrounded by pairs of shoes, buying several. Compulsive clothing shopping, jewelry accummulation, all those shop-aholic jokes. Well, I can forego department stores, no sweat. But tonight as I circled the garden department at Lowes I really had to force myself to stick to the list: tomatoes, basil, petunias, and pansies.
Look at those tulips!! And the daffodils!! Hanging pots of geraniums--which just wither and die here on my patio in the heat. Great big bowls of snapdragons, pansies and sweet williams---I have two big bowls already filled with succulents and herbs that can survive the summer. I don't have flower beds to fill with daisies and poppies. I don't have a pathway in which to plant alyssum so it will grow up between the paving stones. I don't live in San Diego where the bougainvillia can creep up over a trellis and live all winter.
If I go to a nursery for my bedding plants it's even worse. They have ten times the selection and they have little "idea garden spots" set up all over. You go in there for bag of fertilizer and get lost wandering through the fountain section thinking how wonderful some trickling water into a stone lined pool would sound in the evening. It could have big tufts of pampas grass growing beside a large boulder...and...and...
NO---just pick up your six tomato plants, two basil plants, the seed packs of beets, peas and pole beans and go quickly to the check out stand. You do not have the yard space for these other awesome effects. Besides, the focus of the landscape efforts and money this year must be on the front yard. It looks like an abandoned vacant lot out there under the palm trees. But, maybe the trickling "pond" (recirculating with a tiny pump) could be part of the remodel...hmmm. Let's go home and give it a look.
Look at those tulips!! And the daffodils!! Hanging pots of geraniums--which just wither and die here on my patio in the heat. Great big bowls of snapdragons, pansies and sweet williams---I have two big bowls already filled with succulents and herbs that can survive the summer. I don't have flower beds to fill with daisies and poppies. I don't have a pathway in which to plant alyssum so it will grow up between the paving stones. I don't live in San Diego where the bougainvillia can creep up over a trellis and live all winter.
If I go to a nursery for my bedding plants it's even worse. They have ten times the selection and they have little "idea garden spots" set up all over. You go in there for bag of fertilizer and get lost wandering through the fountain section thinking how wonderful some trickling water into a stone lined pool would sound in the evening. It could have big tufts of pampas grass growing beside a large boulder...and...and...
NO---just pick up your six tomato plants, two basil plants, the seed packs of beets, peas and pole beans and go quickly to the check out stand. You do not have the yard space for these other awesome effects. Besides, the focus of the landscape efforts and money this year must be on the front yard. It looks like an abandoned vacant lot out there under the palm trees. But, maybe the trickling "pond" (recirculating with a tiny pump) could be part of the remodel...hmmm. Let's go home and give it a look.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Weekly Summary
Weird week---several really terrific things that either aggravated me or were delightful happened but I CANNOT blog about them. Some of them have to do with test security at our school since we were taking the big state test this week. Some of them are just too personal. It's interesting how when something happens now, the first thing I want to do is blog. It's not like it's private or anything! So, some things just can't go here.
Here's a couple that can:
Here's a couple that can:
- Is it just me, or is local TV news--in any city--the most vapid, obnoxious form of information available?
- Don't you love chocolate covered orange sticks? I got a package for my birthday and they are simply delicious. I don't like any other kind of chocolate covered fruit, orange sticks are irresistable to me.
- Whew--I don't know if you've heard about the medical clinic scandal here in Vegas, where a series of endoscopy clinics have been closed by the health dept and city because they re-used vials of medicine for more than one patient, thereby contaminating them with blood borne pathegens, but when I contacted my doctor about the location of my tests two years ago, they assured me that it wasn't there. Whew--several patients (over a four year period) have contracted Hepatitis C and B and they're waiting on the HIV tests. Whew.
- I love spring: flowering trees, soft air, daylight lasting until 6:00 P.M.
- Cats are such a great pet. They love you, and when you neglect them by staying away from home for 12 or more hours, they still love you.
- It's time to garden! I get to plant tomatoes and beets and peas!
Sunday, March 02, 2008
I'm Going There Someday--Probably Thursday
I'm part of the Relief Society presidency in my ward, and we have a "Ladies Night Out" on alternating months when we go to the temple. The temple is three blocks from our ward boundary line so getting there is easy. In March we're going to do baptisms so that we can include women who have recently joined the Church or who haven't been to the temple officially yet. So today our president gave her lesson about temples and asked several people to participate. The bishop explained the process of the interview and what it involved for a regular recommend or a baptismal recommend. Then an older sister who was both divorced and then widowed (in her second marriage), and whose daughter and grandchildren (and husband), live in the ward spoke of her experience going to the temple her first time. She was motivated to go by this only daughter's upcoming wedding years ago.
I've known this woman for a couple of years and talked to her several times. Her husband's death was a tragic work accident. They were happily married and after years and years of single parent-hood, she felt so lucky to have had him come into her life. He was very accepting of her decision to go to the temple and even attended the preparation classes with her, despite not being a member of the Church himself. It was a very sweet story. And as she told of her experience of being in the temple, and how she was sealed to her parents that day too, because they'd finally become eligible to attend the temple themselves in their old age, everyone in the room was just overcome by the Spirit. There were tears trying to escape from my eyes for the rest of the lesson.
It reminded me of all the reasons I love the temple. I love that in the interview with my then-bishop for my first recommend (after thirteen years of marriage) I was able to finally set down the burden of all my past stupid mistakes. I remember them still, but they no longer eat away at me because I know forgiveness is real.
I love that when I finally got inside the temple that first time I had such a powerful spiritual witness of life after death and the reality of our eternal souls.
I love the way time ceases to function while I'm in the temple. I never look at my watch; it doesn't really matter what time it is--there is no time.
I love the way I can think clearly about different concerns I have in my life. Many times a clear solution to a serious student problem comes into my brain while I'm sitting there being still. I have repeatedly realized answers to concerns about my children or husband while in the temple. I once asked someone who had been a temple president several times if I should worry that my mind seems to wander during the session, or if the amazing insights that it wanders to are actually answers to my prayers. He stated that if I gained insights into problems that helped my life, and the lives of those I cared about, then I shouldn't consider it "mind-wandering" but "personal revelation". Hmmm.
I love the serenity of the temple. In two places where we've lived, the trip to the temple was about an hour long, and the last 4 or 5 miles of the journey was on one of the most congested, crazed part of the region's roadways. The contrast made the atmosphere of the temple interior even more sanctified. Interestingly, the temple is the rare place I go that I do not engage in conversation with others. I usually go on my own and so my talking is confined to quiet greetings and the ritual responses that are part of the ceremony. It is very restful and contributes to the rejunvenating effect of the experience.
The ironic part of living this close to the temple is that my attendance was more regular when I had to drive an hour and survive that ridiculous traffic. Since I don't have to plan it out carefully, I've been shocked to come to the end of a month and discover that I didn't go at all. Saturday comes and goes without my spending time in the temple. Each week night it seems something is on my schedule to prevent my attendance. So the only solution is to return to my planning of the past. I must choose a day and go without fail. I need the rejuvenation of the experience. I need the quiet communing with God. I need the regular service involved. It reminds me that life is just a little piece of the eternal picture and how important it is to keep that knowledge formost in my mind. It is easy to get cynical or lazy about spiritual things if you don't immerse yourself in spiritual events and the temple is an ideal place for that.
I've known this woman for a couple of years and talked to her several times. Her husband's death was a tragic work accident. They were happily married and after years and years of single parent-hood, she felt so lucky to have had him come into her life. He was very accepting of her decision to go to the temple and even attended the preparation classes with her, despite not being a member of the Church himself. It was a very sweet story. And as she told of her experience of being in the temple, and how she was sealed to her parents that day too, because they'd finally become eligible to attend the temple themselves in their old age, everyone in the room was just overcome by the Spirit. There were tears trying to escape from my eyes for the rest of the lesson.
It reminded me of all the reasons I love the temple. I love that in the interview with my then-bishop for my first recommend (after thirteen years of marriage) I was able to finally set down the burden of all my past stupid mistakes. I remember them still, but they no longer eat away at me because I know forgiveness is real.
I love that when I finally got inside the temple that first time I had such a powerful spiritual witness of life after death and the reality of our eternal souls.
I love the way time ceases to function while I'm in the temple. I never look at my watch; it doesn't really matter what time it is--there is no time.
I love the way I can think clearly about different concerns I have in my life. Many times a clear solution to a serious student problem comes into my brain while I'm sitting there being still. I have repeatedly realized answers to concerns about my children or husband while in the temple. I once asked someone who had been a temple president several times if I should worry that my mind seems to wander during the session, or if the amazing insights that it wanders to are actually answers to my prayers. He stated that if I gained insights into problems that helped my life, and the lives of those I cared about, then I shouldn't consider it "mind-wandering" but "personal revelation". Hmmm.
I love the serenity of the temple. In two places where we've lived, the trip to the temple was about an hour long, and the last 4 or 5 miles of the journey was on one of the most congested, crazed part of the region's roadways. The contrast made the atmosphere of the temple interior even more sanctified. Interestingly, the temple is the rare place I go that I do not engage in conversation with others. I usually go on my own and so my talking is confined to quiet greetings and the ritual responses that are part of the ceremony. It is very restful and contributes to the rejunvenating effect of the experience.
The ironic part of living this close to the temple is that my attendance was more regular when I had to drive an hour and survive that ridiculous traffic. Since I don't have to plan it out carefully, I've been shocked to come to the end of a month and discover that I didn't go at all. Saturday comes and goes without my spending time in the temple. Each week night it seems something is on my schedule to prevent my attendance. So the only solution is to return to my planning of the past. I must choose a day and go without fail. I need the rejuvenation of the experience. I need the quiet communing with God. I need the regular service involved. It reminds me that life is just a little piece of the eternal picture and how important it is to keep that knowledge formost in my mind. It is easy to get cynical or lazy about spiritual things if you don't immerse yourself in spiritual events and the temple is an ideal place for that.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Leaping through the Year
Leap day is really a fun day because it is so rare. I read about a couple whose birthdays are both today. I read about a dad and his daughter who share the Feb. 29 birthday. How weird is that? Unless you opted for induction or C-section you couldn't plan something like that. And weddings--I read about weddings planned deliberately for today. I'm too ceremonial. I don't think I'd like having only one day in four to celebrate a special event. What if you were mad at each other that one day? You'd have to wait four more years to celebrate again!
This afternoon I passed by the calendar in our school office. It is a wipe-off calendar of the whole year stretched across the main hall in the back offices where only staff people wander. It has everything written on for the year--August through June. I realized today that we are starting March on Monday and after that there are only two months and four days and then I GET A SUMMER OFF!! I haven't had a summer off in three years and I'm really, really anticipating this one. It will be so nice to just stay home. But of course, I'm busy planning places to go and things to do. But having a break from work is just going to be fabulous. It is one of the main perks of teaching. And for anyone who says "Oh you lazy teachers," may I just say that if it weren't for summers off, many more felonies would be committed by teachers. It is a safety valve to give us those 9-11 weeks off every year.
This afternoon I passed by the calendar in our school office. It is a wipe-off calendar of the whole year stretched across the main hall in the back offices where only staff people wander. It has everything written on for the year--August through June. I realized today that we are starting March on Monday and after that there are only two months and four days and then I GET A SUMMER OFF!! I haven't had a summer off in three years and I'm really, really anticipating this one. It will be so nice to just stay home. But of course, I'm busy planning places to go and things to do. But having a break from work is just going to be fabulous. It is one of the main perks of teaching. And for anyone who says "Oh you lazy teachers," may I just say that if it weren't for summers off, many more felonies would be committed by teachers. It is a safety valve to give us those 9-11 weeks off every year.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Birthday Girl
So today is my birthday. Happy Birthday to me. Yesterday it was George Washington's birthday, and I always have a special lesson for it despite having no state content standards demanding it. I use G.W. for my literature and we do some writing skill to fulfill our requirements. Anyway...I passed out fruit rolls to my students as a treat from George and me and, as usual, there was the question of how old I am. Naturally I make them do the math. I wrote the equation of 2008 minus 1953 on the board and it got really quiet for a minute. Then someone called out "You're 1055 years old!" And he couldn't be budged off this answer for several minutes. I hesitate to even tell the poor fourth grade math teacher this story because one of her mantras is "Does your answer make sense??" But, hey, maybe that answer made sense to this student. In another class one of them thought that we were figuring the age of George Washington with that equation. I mean, 1953 is REALLY LONG AGO when you are nine years old. No, I did not know Mr. Washington despite the fact that I used to live in Maryland and have visited his home in Virginia several times. Perhaps I was this confused as a fourth grader, too. Perhaps not, but these are the things that make teaching never dull. Sometimes we crave boredom.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Welcome to ELMO's World
I got a new ELMO in my classroom today. (click on "digital presenters and scroll down) Actually it is called a TT 02 or something like that, and it is a FABULOUS teacher's helper. I've been borrowing one of my co-worker's machine whenever I could, but she uses it often too. So, the spending committee got the word on our wish lists and bought a couple more of them for us new people who really wanted one, too. This little t.v. camera sends an image of whatever you lay on the plate under it through an LCD projector to the screen at the front of the room. It is ideal for teaching writing, because I write on the same paper they're writing on instead of an overhead transparency, and they can follow directions exactly. They can see me write, then erase or scribble through, and do revisions and think aloud. It's real writing happening before their eyes.
If I want to read a story book (and I often do to illustrate a concept) I just place the book under the camera and project the pictures up on the screen and then everyone can see what I see. If it is a book in which the format of the words is the important part, then, voila, the words are right up there for all to see. Our math teacher uses it to show the little blocks or whatever manipulative she is using. It's a gadget, but it is a very useful gadget that I'll use everyday.
Yet another reason to LOVE MY NEW SCHOOL. (Um, after six months, does it still qualify as "new"?)
If I want to read a story book (and I often do to illustrate a concept) I just place the book under the camera and project the pictures up on the screen and then everyone can see what I see. If it is a book in which the format of the words is the important part, then, voila, the words are right up there for all to see. Our math teacher uses it to show the little blocks or whatever manipulative she is using. It's a gadget, but it is a very useful gadget that I'll use everyday.
Yet another reason to LOVE MY NEW SCHOOL. (Um, after six months, does it still qualify as "new"?)
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Adjusting My View
You know, I had this idea that we'd do some earth mother things this weekend with my son's family--plant the garden, go to the river and look at birds, maybe go over to this place where you can walk through the desert and see lizards and rabbits. BUT...I forgot that it wasn't my weekend. It was her weekend. It was her birthday, and they were down here to celebrate it. She loves cities, having grown up in one of the world's hippest metro areas. She loves the hustle and bustle, the crowds, the shopping, the lights and buildings and action. She is a Vegas-ophile, while I am just a visitor.
So, just in time Saturday I realized I was about to mess it all up and changed my viewpoint from what I wanted to do over to what she wanted to do. And we went and did it and we had a great time! It's just amazing to me that I'm such a slow learner. There are many fun things to do here, and she and I left the grown men at home and went and did them. And since she is an aficionada of the scene here, she expertly guided me around and showed me the nifty stuff that other people come from all over the world to enjoy. And it was pretty fun! I found myself walking down the sidewalk in front of Planet Hollywood, holding hands with my grandson who can't hear music without dancing to it--so I danced with him. We cha-chaed our way down Las Vegas Boulevard, twirling each other round, laughing and making a spectacle of ourselves (which takes some doing there!) We had a fine time and I look forward to my next tour of Fabulous Vegas!
So, just in time Saturday I realized I was about to mess it all up and changed my viewpoint from what I wanted to do over to what she wanted to do. And we went and did it and we had a great time! It's just amazing to me that I'm such a slow learner. There are many fun things to do here, and she and I left the grown men at home and went and did them. And since she is an aficionada of the scene here, she expertly guided me around and showed me the nifty stuff that other people come from all over the world to enjoy. And it was pretty fun! I found myself walking down the sidewalk in front of Planet Hollywood, holding hands with my grandson who can't hear music without dancing to it--so I danced with him. We cha-chaed our way down Las Vegas Boulevard, twirling each other round, laughing and making a spectacle of ourselves (which takes some doing there!) We had a fine time and I look forward to my next tour of Fabulous Vegas!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Abraham Lincoln Day
Each year, I celebrate the two president's birthdays that were a feature of my childhood: A. Lincoln and G. Washington. I know they combined it into one federal holiday by splitting the difference between their actual days which are ten days apart. But one of my goals in fourth grade (and it isn't in any state standards anywhere) is that my students will be able to distinguish between those two. It is alarming how many adults don't do that well. But, each of them were very significant leaders in America and I think they are deserving of their individual recognition. When I lived in Maryland, we also regularly went across the river to Mt. Vernon to visit Washington's home on a field trip. In February they have Colonial Days there to entice schools to visit because it isn't a big tourist time of year. They have re-enactors all over the estate to show the kids how everything was done two hundred-plus years ago. It's very cool.
As part of Abraham Lincoln week we read about his life, answer questionaires and write paragraphs, etc. And I always read my favorite "Abraham Lincoln book"--Pink & Say by Patricia Palacco. And every year I can't get through it without crying. For 13 years I've read this book and sometimes I really break down and can't even speak. I can't even tell people the plot of the book without choking up. This year with my new format--four classes every day, I had to read it four times in one day. And I did get all choked up the first time through, and then, an amazing thing happened. I read it three more times and did not cry. I really had to exercise self-control. But I did it. I guess the practice over and over made the difference. But, it truly affects the kids who are listening. Some of them cry. Every time I read it someone will exclaim, "What?! She died!?" They weren't really paying all of their attention especially, but then that part gets them and they are memsmerized for the rest of the book. EVERY kid I've ever read it to is affected by this book. If you haven't read it, then get a copy and you'll see why. And don't forget to say "Pinkus Ayley" aloud when you finish.
As part of Abraham Lincoln week we read about his life, answer questionaires and write paragraphs, etc. And I always read my favorite "Abraham Lincoln book"--Pink & Say by Patricia Palacco. And every year I can't get through it without crying. For 13 years I've read this book and sometimes I really break down and can't even speak. I can't even tell people the plot of the book without choking up. This year with my new format--four classes every day, I had to read it four times in one day. And I did get all choked up the first time through, and then, an amazing thing happened. I read it three more times and did not cry. I really had to exercise self-control. But I did it. I guess the practice over and over made the difference. But, it truly affects the kids who are listening. Some of them cry. Every time I read it someone will exclaim, "What?! She died!?" They weren't really paying all of their attention especially, but then that part gets them and they are memsmerized for the rest of the book. EVERY kid I've ever read it to is affected by this book. If you haven't read it, then get a copy and you'll see why. And don't forget to say "Pinkus Ayley" aloud when you finish.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I've Got Worms!
Normally, this isn't the sort of thing that a person would trumpet to the world, but the worms to which I refer are earthworms living happily in my garden box! That means that I have fabulous dirt out there, full of nutrients and minerals. I spent an hour on Saturday digging up the grass that has crept in around the edges and I found several little buddies wriggling their way through the soil.
This weekend I'm celebrating President's Day with our son and his family who are coming to see us (and the sun) and I'll have my grandson help me plant the peas. This is spinach, pea and beet time. I'll be able to put new flowers in my patio pots and generally start the garden over again. Yippee! Worms!!
This weekend I'm celebrating President's Day with our son and his family who are coming to see us (and the sun) and I'll have my grandson help me plant the peas. This is spinach, pea and beet time. I'll be able to put new flowers in my patio pots and generally start the garden over again. Yippee! Worms!!
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Tra la, tra la
That is me singing as I scamper through my yard this afternoon in capris, sandals and t-shirt, digging up my garden box, preparing for my spring garden. It's 70 degrees, we ate lunch on the patio. Kitty Cat is sprawled out on the warm cement. Doves are cooing. YEAH!!! This is the Nevada I love.
The Test
The actual test is: Will we all survive the next three weeks? You see, our principal received an e-mail on Tuesday morning that pointed out there had been an "error" in the testing calendar. By state law, the BIG OLD TEST is to be taken by the students after 120 days of instruction. But, the people who printed off the testing calendar for the building administrators (given to them last May, and used to schedule EVERYTHING for this school year) were off by a month. Instead of April 25th being the date we needed to return the completed tests, it is really March 25. And the e-mail ended, "We hope this doesn't cause any undue inconvenience."
What a laugh line!! It resulted in complete hyteria in my building, and many other schools I'm sure. We're all one gigantic dysfunctional family here in Southern Nevada and for 10 months we've all been planning our curriculum and pacing around this calendar that--suddenly--just shrunk by an entire month. And...Spring Break is one of the weeks of that month. There's really nothing to be done, either, because my principal would have done it. She called everyone right up through the state superintendent's office. We will be testing the first two weeks of March. There is no appeal.
So every special event has been cancelled. We're sneaking in a little Valentine's Day for 30 minutes at the end of the day, but I expect to be reprimanded for it. We have an unusual situation in that our school is under extreme scrutiny. The school is operating in an experimental capacity as an "empowerment" school and so we get to choose how and what to teach (according to the state standards, of course). But we are not under the strict guidelines of the rest of the county for which reading series, math text, etc. There are about 6 schools like this, and data is being gathered for a study to see if this is a viable and superior model. Therefore, the school gets looked at more strigently than others. They performed well last year, but that just makes the bar higher this year. It's easy to move from the bottom to the middle. It is a lot harder to go from "pretty good" to "really good".
So, we're all dumping our plans for the next three weeks and implementing the new, hysterical, "focused" plan for test run-up. Many platitudes have been mouthed about how "it's just another test, we take many tests, we don't need to put undo pressure on the students--they can do it" but the actions belie those sentiments.
What a laugh line!! It resulted in complete hyteria in my building, and many other schools I'm sure. We're all one gigantic dysfunctional family here in Southern Nevada and for 10 months we've all been planning our curriculum and pacing around this calendar that--suddenly--just shrunk by an entire month. And...Spring Break is one of the weeks of that month. There's really nothing to be done, either, because my principal would have done it. She called everyone right up through the state superintendent's office. We will be testing the first two weeks of March. There is no appeal.
So every special event has been cancelled. We're sneaking in a little Valentine's Day for 30 minutes at the end of the day, but I expect to be reprimanded for it. We have an unusual situation in that our school is under extreme scrutiny. The school is operating in an experimental capacity as an "empowerment" school and so we get to choose how and what to teach (according to the state standards, of course). But we are not under the strict guidelines of the rest of the county for which reading series, math text, etc. There are about 6 schools like this, and data is being gathered for a study to see if this is a viable and superior model. Therefore, the school gets looked at more strigently than others. They performed well last year, but that just makes the bar higher this year. It's easy to move from the bottom to the middle. It is a lot harder to go from "pretty good" to "really good".
So, we're all dumping our plans for the next three weeks and implementing the new, hysterical, "focused" plan for test run-up. Many platitudes have been mouthed about how "it's just another test, we take many tests, we don't need to put undo pressure on the students--they can do it" but the actions belie those sentiments.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Weather Whine
How many of you just assumed that Las Vegas was balmy all year round? I mean--except when it's super-hot in the summer? Lots of people do! I knew that it can get cold in the winter before I moved here because I've driven through it in the winter, and it is 2300 feet in elevation after all, so it will get chilly in December and January.
BUT...this is getting extremely tiresome. It has been really darn cold for two entire months now. Yesterday, Cool Guy pointed out that the weather on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay (where he has been for two weeks) was warmer, the low & the high, than we had here in the desert. Blah. I don't like to shiver. I don't like to wear coats. I don't even like sweaters. It hasn't been above 50 degrees in weeks and weeks and the wind has been blowing and it is unpleasant and yucky. The lows are just above 30 every morning.
I know, I know---"waaaa"--you're saying there in your actual cold weather climate. But you expect prolonged cold temperatures and freezing and wind chill and all that. We people who live in the land of palm trees and swimming pools will tolerate it for about a month and then, by golly, it had better start getting back toward 70 and 80 again soon. Or else....or else....well...nothing. At least I'm not shoveling my measly 50 degrees off the driveway so I can go to work. Okay, I'll keep my whining to myself. Sorry.
BUT...this is getting extremely tiresome. It has been really darn cold for two entire months now. Yesterday, Cool Guy pointed out that the weather on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay (where he has been for two weeks) was warmer, the low & the high, than we had here in the desert. Blah. I don't like to shiver. I don't like to wear coats. I don't even like sweaters. It hasn't been above 50 degrees in weeks and weeks and the wind has been blowing and it is unpleasant and yucky. The lows are just above 30 every morning.
I know, I know---"waaaa"--you're saying there in your actual cold weather climate. But you expect prolonged cold temperatures and freezing and wind chill and all that. We people who live in the land of palm trees and swimming pools will tolerate it for about a month and then, by golly, it had better start getting back toward 70 and 80 again soon. Or else....or else....well...nothing. At least I'm not shoveling my measly 50 degrees off the driveway so I can go to work. Okay, I'll keep my whining to myself. Sorry.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
New Word!
Maybe this will just reveal my ignorance, but I found a new word today that I've never heard, ever.
crepsucle: n twilight; just after the sun goes down (from middle English)
I was amazed. There are many words I hear or read that I'm a little unsure of, or I'm unclear about their pronunciation, but this is a word I've never heard, nor recall reading, ever before.
How about you? Have you read or heard it? Do you know a context for it? A book, a play, whatever?
And, on another tangent: is there a corresponding word that refers to "dawn"? Mmmm...I must explore thesaurs.com.
crepsucle: n twilight; just after the sun goes down (from middle English)
I was amazed. There are many words I hear or read that I'm a little unsure of, or I'm unclear about their pronunciation, but this is a word I've never heard, nor recall reading, ever before.
How about you? Have you read or heard it? Do you know a context for it? A book, a play, whatever?
And, on another tangent: is there a corresponding word that refers to "dawn"? Mmmm...I must explore thesaurs.com.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
The North Star
President Hinckley died tonight. There have been three funerals in my family in less than three years, and again this morning I learned of another tragic death of a dear friend's son. But Pres. Hinckley's death isn't tragic. I will miss him in conference. He was witty and sincere and very kind and loving. He was also amazingly hard working, savvy, and obviously "raised up" for this time of the world to be the prophet of the Lord. I keep discovering yet another aspect of the church in which he led a role in a pivotal, behind the scenes, creative way. He took all the fabulous inventions of the twentieth century and used them to spread the gospel across the earth. He engaged the media and they met their match in this articulate, humorous, well-spoken man who answered the questions he was asked with intelligent and articulate prose. He might have entered their orbit just a figure of curiosity, but he left as their friend.
I'm most mindful tonight that he is home and back with his wife of whom he spoke often, always with respect, love and--since her death four years ago--tears in his eyes. I hope I can provoke even a part of this reaction in my loved ones when I pass on--they'll miss me, and hold me in high regard. Both Pres. Hinckley and his wife were beloved by millions of us Mormons and many other people with whom they came in contact as they traveled all over the world. I was astonished at their stamina. I'm half that old and travel is tiring.
In Primary several years ago, we learned a sweet song based on an incident from Pres. Hinckley's life. When he was a boy he loved to camp out and admire the stars and he learned about the North Star and its role as a steadfast guide to all. The song has three verses that are very inspiring, and here is the chorus that my Primary kids used to love to belt out, accompanied by gestures that one of our great parents taught us:
Be constant as the North Star, that shines for you and me
Anchored in the Gospel with pure integrity
Steadfast in your service to God and fellowman
President Hinckley has shown us that we can.
I'm most mindful tonight that he is home and back with his wife of whom he spoke often, always with respect, love and--since her death four years ago--tears in his eyes. I hope I can provoke even a part of this reaction in my loved ones when I pass on--they'll miss me, and hold me in high regard. Both Pres. Hinckley and his wife were beloved by millions of us Mormons and many other people with whom they came in contact as they traveled all over the world. I was astonished at their stamina. I'm half that old and travel is tiring.
In Primary several years ago, we learned a sweet song based on an incident from Pres. Hinckley's life. When he was a boy he loved to camp out and admire the stars and he learned about the North Star and its role as a steadfast guide to all. The song has three verses that are very inspiring, and here is the chorus that my Primary kids used to love to belt out, accompanied by gestures that one of our great parents taught us:
Be constant as the North Star, that shines for you and me
Anchored in the Gospel with pure integrity
Steadfast in your service to God and fellowman
President Hinckley has shown us that we can.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
A Day Late
Arrgh...this is the problem of my tendency to read my daily newspaper the next day (or even two days later.)
I could have gone to George Thorogood at the House of Blues on Friday night!!!
But, I didn't read about it until Saturday at lunch. Sigh.
I could have gone to George Thorogood at the House of Blues on Friday night!!!
But, I didn't read about it until Saturday at lunch. Sigh.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Loopy Idea
We had a discussion today with the fifth grade teachers about "looping". One of them is strongly in favor of doing this. It means to go to a grade level below yours and teach those students, then move with them up to the next grade level, so that you are their teacher for two years in a row, with the appropriate curriculum each year. It would involve the current fourth grade teachers (me) moving up to fifth grade with the students we have now, and the current fifth grade teachers taking on the new crop of fourth graders in the fall.
I once talked to an Israeli teacher who did this in her school, but you started with the group in Kindergarten and continued all the way through 6th grade. There is research that shows many benefits with this model: cohesion, a family-like structure, teacher doesn't have to waste time each beginning of the year establishing raport--determining the learning styles or teaching routines, etc. The fifth grade teammate whose idea was the catalyst for the discussion has been to a seminar on ideal schools or something like that and is really enthused about the notion. We fourth grade teachers think it has something to do with the reputation of the group of fourth graders we got this year from the third grade teachers. It was a rough year in third grade. It hasn't been all bad in fourth grade, but there is a contingent of really tough cases.
I, for one, will never participate in "looping". And all of the reasons I gave her just caused her to say, "So you're saying that this job isn't about the kids??" Yes, on this topic, I'm saying that it IS about me. For the last four "first day of school" I have been in a new classroom with a new curriculum. I'm tired of that. I'm tired of switching rooms and switching lessons and having to create everything brand new out of the air. The last thing I want to do next fall is teach fifth grade. Especially with the students who will be the fifth graders. And it's not just these students. Every year I've taught school I have been able to identify by the end of September at least one student for whom I'm already counting the remaining days of the school year in anticipation of having them move on out of my daily orbit. This year is no different.
I like fourth grade. I like fourth graders. I don't want to change grade levels. In addition to that: what would you think if you were a fourth grader this year and you showed up to school in August 2008 and you had the same four teachers, in the same four rooms (no one planned on switching rooms for this experiment). Would you feel like you'd been promoted to fifth grade? No, you wouldn't. There are probably some students who actually will do better with some of the current fifth grade teachers than they are doing with us just because of their different personalities, or because the kids will be another year older. At any rate--these reasons are all just academic because I will not do it. Nope, nada, not. Our relationship is going to be different in the future, I can tell from things that were said. But, no amount of bullying (however mild) or guilt-tripping (however overt) will move me. I know what I want to do and looping is not it.
I once talked to an Israeli teacher who did this in her school, but you started with the group in Kindergarten and continued all the way through 6th grade. There is research that shows many benefits with this model: cohesion, a family-like structure, teacher doesn't have to waste time each beginning of the year establishing raport--determining the learning styles or teaching routines, etc. The fifth grade teammate whose idea was the catalyst for the discussion has been to a seminar on ideal schools or something like that and is really enthused about the notion. We fourth grade teachers think it has something to do with the reputation of the group of fourth graders we got this year from the third grade teachers. It was a rough year in third grade. It hasn't been all bad in fourth grade, but there is a contingent of really tough cases.
I, for one, will never participate in "looping". And all of the reasons I gave her just caused her to say, "So you're saying that this job isn't about the kids??" Yes, on this topic, I'm saying that it IS about me. For the last four "first day of school" I have been in a new classroom with a new curriculum. I'm tired of that. I'm tired of switching rooms and switching lessons and having to create everything brand new out of the air. The last thing I want to do next fall is teach fifth grade. Especially with the students who will be the fifth graders. And it's not just these students. Every year I've taught school I have been able to identify by the end of September at least one student for whom I'm already counting the remaining days of the school year in anticipation of having them move on out of my daily orbit. This year is no different.
I like fourth grade. I like fourth graders. I don't want to change grade levels. In addition to that: what would you think if you were a fourth grader this year and you showed up to school in August 2008 and you had the same four teachers, in the same four rooms (no one planned on switching rooms for this experiment). Would you feel like you'd been promoted to fifth grade? No, you wouldn't. There are probably some students who actually will do better with some of the current fifth grade teachers than they are doing with us just because of their different personalities, or because the kids will be another year older. At any rate--these reasons are all just academic because I will not do it. Nope, nada, not. Our relationship is going to be different in the future, I can tell from things that were said. But, no amount of bullying (however mild) or guilt-tripping (however overt) will move me. I know what I want to do and looping is not it.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
How's the Weather?
I'd say that it is "relative." Here in the desert everyone was all a-twitter this morning because---(trumpet fanfare)--IT RAINED. And that is very big news here. We always need rain. The pool likes it because it adds fresh water for free, and it helps the ph levels. The plants love it because, even though they can still survive for weeks/months without rain, at some point they do need moisture. The air loves it because it cleans everything up nicely. This time of year it is cold here and so all the mountains surrounding the valley were coated with snow and it looked fabulous as the sun rose illuminating the white-washed red rocks. "More rain in the forecast," the gleeful TV weather folks crowed! We could get nearly 3/4 of an inch by Monday!
Meanwhile, beyond those frosted western mountains, Santa Barbarans are driving around with rain up to their lugnuts. It has been raining for a while and it will continue to rain. They've had more rain in this recent storm than Southern Nevada had all last year. Hmmm. In our time in California there were two things that were regular: it would not rain AT ALL between June and October; but when the wet season returned, it was a deluge. Every eight to ten years we'd experience a year when it could rain so many inches that the streets flooded simply because the storm drain system was overwhelmed. There would be a foot and a half of water sitting on the runway apron outside Cool Guy's hanger. The lawn became a swamp. It could rain like that for an hour at a time. It could rain less intensely for hours. The year Cool Guy was transferred to Maryland he was delayed for two days in his attempt to drive out of town because Southern California was closed. Truly--all the interstates were flooded and no one could travel east.
Stayed tuned for excessive heat warnings--coming our way in summer.
Meanwhile, beyond those frosted western mountains, Santa Barbarans are driving around with rain up to their lugnuts. It has been raining for a while and it will continue to rain. They've had more rain in this recent storm than Southern Nevada had all last year. Hmmm. In our time in California there were two things that were regular: it would not rain AT ALL between June and October; but when the wet season returned, it was a deluge. Every eight to ten years we'd experience a year when it could rain so many inches that the streets flooded simply because the storm drain system was overwhelmed. There would be a foot and a half of water sitting on the runway apron outside Cool Guy's hanger. The lawn became a swamp. It could rain like that for an hour at a time. It could rain less intensely for hours. The year Cool Guy was transferred to Maryland he was delayed for two days in his attempt to drive out of town because Southern California was closed. Truly--all the interstates were flooded and no one could travel east.
Stayed tuned for excessive heat warnings--coming our way in summer.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Hola!
Tonight I started a 12 lesson class called "Reality Spanish" (copyrighted name) that the school district sponsors. Its purpose is to give you, the teacher, some vocabulary for everyday classroom life. At the end of the class the student will be able to:
- ask and comprehend culturally appropriate questions and give answers
- give command phrases for quick and effective communication
- instill confidence through language and insights of another culture for establishing connections with Spanish speakers
We will not be able to conjugate verbs, write, or read, but if tonight's lesson was an indication, it'll be quite useful in a classroom in Las Vegas. We learned several words, and a corresponding gesture to help us realize the meaning. Next we were to draw a picture to illustrate each word, and then we got up and acted out a little story that our instructor told, using just the words we'd learned. We also received a CD to listen to spoken language to improve our accents, and a CD rom to use for lessons and homework.
I learned these techniques many years ago in California in the best teacher training class ever (of all the classes I was required to take). It's called TPR--total physical response. You see it, say it, and act it out. You draw a picture, you use your whole body to define this word and create meaning for yourself. It really works. I used TPR on English speaking kids in Southern Maryland to teach them vocabulary words and it's very effective. I will definitely use "El chico--sientate!" Probably tomorrow.
Bummer
I was really sad to hear that Heath Ledger died because he was so amazingly cute and fun to watch in movies.
Then I read that he had a two year daughter, and I read about his parents' reaction, and I remembered that he was a human being with a family and now I feel bad that I was so shallow about my sorrow, and I feel really sad for his family. 28 years old. Too young.
Then I read that he had a two year daughter, and I read about his parents' reaction, and I remembered that he was a human being with a family and now I feel bad that I was so shallow about my sorrow, and I feel really sad for his family. 28 years old. Too young.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
My Year in Places
Here's another interesting way to chart a year I've copied from here. A list of places, not home, where I stayed for at least one night in 2007:
Yuma, AZ
Seattle, WA
Leonardtown, MD
Smoot, WY
Marrakech, Morocco
Aday, Morocco
Essouira, Morocco
Madrid, Spain
Leonardtown, MD
Salt Lake City, UT
Provo, UT
Tecopa Hot Springs, CA
Salt Lake City, UT
Smoot, WY
Salt Lake City, UT
Provo, UT
This was an unusually exciting year for traveling. I got the first stamp in my passport. Ever. I'm hoping to add a few more states to the list this year--like Maine, Oregon or Hawaii. But, likely, it'll be the I-15 circuit again, mostly. But, that's why I moved back home to the West: it's where the people live who I wish to visit.
Yuma, AZ
Seattle, WA
Leonardtown, MD
Smoot, WY
Marrakech, Morocco
Aday, Morocco
Essouira, Morocco
Madrid, Spain
Leonardtown, MD
Salt Lake City, UT
Provo, UT
Tecopa Hot Springs, CA
Salt Lake City, UT
Smoot, WY
Salt Lake City, UT
Provo, UT
This was an unusually exciting year for traveling. I got the first stamp in my passport. Ever. I'm hoping to add a few more states to the list this year--like Maine, Oregon or Hawaii. But, likely, it'll be the I-15 circuit again, mostly. But, that's why I moved back home to the West: it's where the people live who I wish to visit.
Notes on the Trip
- It's always amazing how quickly people can pull together really awesome things to commemorate a loved one. Pictures, memorabilia, poetry and speeches.
- I keep having some new reason pop into my head as to why this death is so unfair and wrong.
- There were hundreds of people who came to the viewing and to the funeral.
- The theme of these mourners was "an honorable man" and "the greatest friend"
- I hope I have half of these accolades when I'm dead.
- It was 2 degrees at the cemetery at 3:00 P.M.
- Grandpas should not die until their grandchildren are adults.
- We really do have to just go on with our lives, but sometimes it seems almost impossible.
- His children really did appreciate their dad while he was alive-I'm glad for them; it's so sad they have to live now without him.
- Check out this view for Resurrection Morning:
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Sorrow Again
I'm going to be gone for a few days because of a funeral. It's almost too sad to say. My sister's husband and his two friends were killed in an avalanche while snowmobiling on Saturday.
Life will be over for all of us eventually but we all pray for death to stay away until we're really old. He was not really old. He was a wonderful husband, father, grandfather, and stepfather and it is nearly unbearable to think of my sister losing him. They were so good for each other. She is my baby sister, and she has been so happy with him for the ten years that they were married. It was a second marriage for both of them, and they made the most of it, but they deserved 30 more years. At least.
Life will be over for all of us eventually but we all pray for death to stay away until we're really old. He was not really old. He was a wonderful husband, father, grandfather, and stepfather and it is nearly unbearable to think of my sister losing him. They were so good for each other. She is my baby sister, and she has been so happy with him for the ten years that they were married. It was a second marriage for both of them, and they made the most of it, but they deserved 30 more years. At least.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Life in The Cage
On Monday, I asked my students to write in their journals "One thing during Winter Vacation that was good, and one thing that was bad." I gave them the example that GOOD: I didn't have to set my alarm every day and BAD: We went up to Utah for a couple of days and it was 20 degrees at noon--brrr.
One boy wasn't writing (as usual) and I sat down near him to encourage him. I get him in my room for the last hour of the day, and by then, his noon meds are wearing off and he's really "jittery". (talks constantly to seatmates and won't stay in his chair and always has a reason why nothing can get done.)
"So, you haven't written anything yet."
"I didn't do anything."
"You did nothing for two weeks?"
"I was like a wild monkey locked in a cage. I couldn't leave my house."
"You couldn't leave your house? Why?"
"Because my dad is a big fat jerk!"
"What do you mean?"
"My dad is a big fat jerk!"
"But, you didn't go outside and play with your friends? Or go somewhere?"
"No! I was like a wild monkey locked in a cage!"
"What happened? What caused this?"
"My dad is a big fat jerk!"
So, finally we established that maybe he went out on a couple of occasions and played, and sometimes in the house he played some video games (violent war games, or violent wrestling games). But mostly:
He was like a wild monkey locked in a cage, and his dad is a big fat jerk. Hmmm...right on both accounts from my personal experience with this family. Sadly, what this kid really needed was a trampoline, or a big hole to dig and then refill, or about 25 sandbags to fill or just a pile of sand to play in. Sigh.
One boy wasn't writing (as usual) and I sat down near him to encourage him. I get him in my room for the last hour of the day, and by then, his noon meds are wearing off and he's really "jittery". (talks constantly to seatmates and won't stay in his chair and always has a reason why nothing can get done.)
"So, you haven't written anything yet."
"I didn't do anything."
"You did nothing for two weeks?"
"I was like a wild monkey locked in a cage. I couldn't leave my house."
"You couldn't leave your house? Why?"
"Because my dad is a big fat jerk!"
"What do you mean?"
"My dad is a big fat jerk!"
"But, you didn't go outside and play with your friends? Or go somewhere?"
"No! I was like a wild monkey locked in a cage!"
"What happened? What caused this?"
"My dad is a big fat jerk!"
So, finally we established that maybe he went out on a couple of occasions and played, and sometimes in the house he played some video games (violent war games, or violent wrestling games). But mostly:
He was like a wild monkey locked in a cage, and his dad is a big fat jerk. Hmmm...right on both accounts from my personal experience with this family. Sadly, what this kid really needed was a trampoline, or a big hole to dig and then refill, or about 25 sandbags to fill or just a pile of sand to play in. Sigh.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Nice Try--No Biscuit
Here's how NOT to make a casual Relief Society visit...
Today after church I thought I'd drop by my new VT partner's house and give her one of our RS booklets that we copied and put together last week containing all the lesson schedules, activity schedules and names/phone numbers and addresses of the sisters. It is a great resource and the other counselor thought it up and typed it. My partner isn't really too active, they used to come more often when the boys were younger. I know them because I taught her son in Primary.
The whole family was outside, one boy raking, one helping dad with truck repairs, mom was cleaning out her car. I pulled in, picked up my booklet, stepped out of my car. They have a beautiful, but large and rambunctious, dog so I stayed by my car for a minute and let the lady approach me so she could hold the dog back, too. We talked for a minute, I showed her the booklet, greeted the boys and dad. Then I turned to leave, and found I'd locked myself out of my car!! Doh!! I'd hit the door lock on the way out, but I'd not taken my keys out of the ignition, nor did I have my purse (where my spare key is.) So I called Cool Guy on their phone (because mine was in my purse, too) and he said he'd be right over with the other key. I told him the street and the cross street--we'd been there at Christmas dropping off cookies.
However...I told him the WRONG cross street. I couldn't even call his cell because I don't know the number since I always just call him with re-dial and anyway it is an out-of-state number because it is his work phone so I've never memorized it. Double DOH!!
Finally he went back home, hit redial on the house phone and called us back to get the real directions. A few minutes later he appeared with the other key clicker and, voila, opened my door. So, instead of spending a couple of minutes, and not interrupting them too much, I blew off about 25 minutes looking like a complete dope. At least we had a nice chat, and we've made a plan to go visiting teach on Saturday to at least one of our ladies.
I really do need to get another spare key and a magnet box to stash it under my fender or something. Sigh. Oh, and memorize Cool Guy's cell phone number. Oh, and not be such a doofus.
Today after church I thought I'd drop by my new VT partner's house and give her one of our RS booklets that we copied and put together last week containing all the lesson schedules, activity schedules and names/phone numbers and addresses of the sisters. It is a great resource and the other counselor thought it up and typed it. My partner isn't really too active, they used to come more often when the boys were younger. I know them because I taught her son in Primary.
The whole family was outside, one boy raking, one helping dad with truck repairs, mom was cleaning out her car. I pulled in, picked up my booklet, stepped out of my car. They have a beautiful, but large and rambunctious, dog so I stayed by my car for a minute and let the lady approach me so she could hold the dog back, too. We talked for a minute, I showed her the booklet, greeted the boys and dad. Then I turned to leave, and found I'd locked myself out of my car!! Doh!! I'd hit the door lock on the way out, but I'd not taken my keys out of the ignition, nor did I have my purse (where my spare key is.) So I called Cool Guy on their phone (because mine was in my purse, too) and he said he'd be right over with the other key. I told him the street and the cross street--we'd been there at Christmas dropping off cookies.
However...I told him the WRONG cross street. I couldn't even call his cell because I don't know the number since I always just call him with re-dial and anyway it is an out-of-state number because it is his work phone so I've never memorized it. Double DOH!!
Finally he went back home, hit redial on the house phone and called us back to get the real directions. A few minutes later he appeared with the other key clicker and, voila, opened my door. So, instead of spending a couple of minutes, and not interrupting them too much, I blew off about 25 minutes looking like a complete dope. At least we had a nice chat, and we've made a plan to go visiting teach on Saturday to at least one of our ladies.
I really do need to get another spare key and a magnet box to stash it under my fender or something. Sigh. Oh, and memorize Cool Guy's cell phone number. Oh, and not be such a doofus.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Back to Work
The trouble with vacations...
- I always plan WAY more things to get done than there is time to do them
- I get lazy and start thinking of ways to get along in life without having to go to work
- I can't think of any good ways yet to accomplish that
- my sleep schedule gets out of wack
- I start LOVING all the unstructured time
- three days before vacation ends I start having the nightmares about going back to work
But, I think I will keep having vacations because there is no way a person could maintain the pace of a schoolteacher without the light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel of vacations.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Ten Year Anniversary
Last night for dinner I cooked a family favorite and we were contemplating how long ago I found this recipe. We realized it was the tenth anniversary of Harira. (tambourines and oboes playing...) Harira is a traditional North African soup that is served in the evenings to break the fast of Ramadan. I found the recipe in the Washington Post food section in November 1997 and it looked terrific. It was filled with all my favorite foods: onions, garlic, lentils, tomatoes and cilantro. It just begged to be cooked, and from the first time I served it to my family, it was a hit. It remains everyone's favorite after all these years. Just google it and you will find pages of recipes and commentary. It is a food somewhat like potato salad: there is a basic, agreed upon form, but everyone's mother has her own personal version and there isn't just one "Potato Salad". Harira seems to be this way, too.
The recipe I use calls for lamb chunks, but since lamb was uncommon where I lived when I got this recipe, I finally found blade cut lamb shoulder (a really inexpensive cut) and I brown it, but then I cook it with the bone in for the first part of the recipe, and take it out and cut it up into chunks later on. Also, many of the recipes I found call for celery. Mine doesn't have celery. Some of the recipes thicken the soup only with the egg/lemon juice mix; mine calls for flour/water paste plus lemon juice/egg. The basics are: tomato, chick peas, lentils, noodles and spices. My friend calls it "air soup" because it uses so little of each inexpensive ingredient and yet ends up being a delicious and filling hearty meal.
Our daughter who lived in Morocco serving in the Peace Corps is visiting, and as we ate last night's harira she told us about the soup she consumed there. It turns out my recipe is the Rich Lady version. Most of the people whose tables she shared made it meat-less just because they couldn't afford to put meat in an everyday dish. It is a more utilitarian food there--being served every day for a month. But it gave her bonus points with her families that her mother cooked harira, too.
Once I was teaching a cooking class in Relief Society and my theme was using "The Three Friends: Beans, Legumes and Grains". I was telling my audience about harira and one sister turned to my other daughter, just home from a mission in Spain, and asked her (with great skepticism) "Oh, come on--did you kids really eat this?" My daughter replied solemnly, "If mom had been willing to make it for three meals a day, every day, we'd have gobbled it up---it's that good." I rest my case. And the ladies sampled it and were converted.
The recipe I use calls for lamb chunks, but since lamb was uncommon where I lived when I got this recipe, I finally found blade cut lamb shoulder (a really inexpensive cut) and I brown it, but then I cook it with the bone in for the first part of the recipe, and take it out and cut it up into chunks later on. Also, many of the recipes I found call for celery. Mine doesn't have celery. Some of the recipes thicken the soup only with the egg/lemon juice mix; mine calls for flour/water paste plus lemon juice/egg. The basics are: tomato, chick peas, lentils, noodles and spices. My friend calls it "air soup" because it uses so little of each inexpensive ingredient and yet ends up being a delicious and filling hearty meal.
Our daughter who lived in Morocco serving in the Peace Corps is visiting, and as we ate last night's harira she told us about the soup she consumed there. It turns out my recipe is the Rich Lady version. Most of the people whose tables she shared made it meat-less just because they couldn't afford to put meat in an everyday dish. It is a more utilitarian food there--being served every day for a month. But it gave her bonus points with her families that her mother cooked harira, too.
Once I was teaching a cooking class in Relief Society and my theme was using "The Three Friends: Beans, Legumes and Grains". I was telling my audience about harira and one sister turned to my other daughter, just home from a mission in Spain, and asked her (with great skepticism) "Oh, come on--did you kids really eat this?" My daughter replied solemnly, "If mom had been willing to make it for three meals a day, every day, we'd have gobbled it up---it's that good." I rest my case. And the ladies sampled it and were converted.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas
We talked about the earliest memories we had of Christmas today as we ate dinner. I remember my dad setting up our first t.v. It had a little round screen and a huge wooden cabinet. I would have been five years old. Cool Guy remembers as a tiny kid going over to his grandmother's house which would have actually been the home where his mom was born nearly fifty years earlier. This grandma was really the second wife of his grandfather, his mother's mom died when her children were quite young.
Most of my memories of Christmas are all about food, and I realized still that food is what I think of when the holidays come around. I buy treats I never have around any other time. I make things I'd never cook any other time of year. Here's a partial list:
Chex mix (homemade)
gingerbread cookies
pumpkin bread
poppyseed bread
pecan pie
Chocolate refreshers
stuffing
candy canes (I don't even really like them...they just look nice)
butter cookies
chocolates
peanuts
Something my mom made that I loved and will probably never make in my life: suet pudding. I wouldn't even know where to get a recipe! And where does one buy suet? She also made fruitcake that was fabulous. Everyone maligns fruitcake, but hers was so good. It was an elaborate ceremony to make it. It seems like she worked up to it for days, cutting and chopping dried fruits and shelling nuts. She mixed the batter in a huge pan and baked loaves and loaves of it. It all got wrapped up and put in the basement for a week or two before we could eat it. She didn't soak it in brandy or anything. It just needed to age. It doesn't make any sense now, because why wouldn't it go bad or at least get stale? But I remember eating lots of it--laying a slice of cheddar cheese on a slice of fruitcake and just savoring every bit. Yum...honest! So I don't know why fruitcake gets such bad press.
Anyway--food. That means Christmas to me. Not the gifts, not the decorations, nothing but music is as powerful a signal to me that the holiday time is here. Food, glorious food. Long live Christmas!
Most of my memories of Christmas are all about food, and I realized still that food is what I think of when the holidays come around. I buy treats I never have around any other time. I make things I'd never cook any other time of year. Here's a partial list:
Chex mix (homemade)
gingerbread cookies
pumpkin bread
poppyseed bread
pecan pie
Chocolate refreshers
stuffing
candy canes (I don't even really like them...they just look nice)
butter cookies
chocolates
peanuts
Something my mom made that I loved and will probably never make in my life: suet pudding. I wouldn't even know where to get a recipe! And where does one buy suet? She also made fruitcake that was fabulous. Everyone maligns fruitcake, but hers was so good. It was an elaborate ceremony to make it. It seems like she worked up to it for days, cutting and chopping dried fruits and shelling nuts. She mixed the batter in a huge pan and baked loaves and loaves of it. It all got wrapped up and put in the basement for a week or two before we could eat it. She didn't soak it in brandy or anything. It just needed to age. It doesn't make any sense now, because why wouldn't it go bad or at least get stale? But I remember eating lots of it--laying a slice of cheddar cheese on a slice of fruitcake and just savoring every bit. Yum...honest! So I don't know why fruitcake gets such bad press.
Anyway--food. That means Christmas to me. Not the gifts, not the decorations, nothing but music is as powerful a signal to me that the holiday time is here. Food, glorious food. Long live Christmas!
Monday, December 24, 2007
2 Days of Christmas Memories
My parent's farm was in rather remote valley that wasn't particularly near to anywhere urban. I've said to friends that it was 90 miles to K-Mart. And it still is. So, the big thrill signaling the beginning of the Christmas Crave season was the arrival of the Toy Catalogs. J.C. Penney, Sears, and Montgomery Ward all had a special Christmas catalog that arrived sometime in November that had pages and pages of toys. We'd pore over the slick pages of these tomes and dream and covet. I remember marking them, circling the EXACT thing I wanted. I don't know how much of our Christmas my mom ordered from them, but I rarely got the exact items I'd lusted for. Mostly though, my gifts were wonderful and I loved them all. I do remember really, really wanting the book Album of Horses by Margaret Henry and not getting it. But I recovered from that disappointment. I barely remember any of my childhood gifts except for the cupboard my grandpa made. I see from photos that I always received a new doll, lots of toy dishes and other girlish things. I don't feel I was too programed, because I did grow up and become a good cow milking/horse riding/hay hauling farm girl. I did get a Barbie (finally) at age 11 and my sister sewed me an entire wardrobe of fabulous clothes for it. I still have that Barbie and her clothes. My own daughters got a Barbie at about 5 years old from grandma, but that Barbie met an untimely death at the hands of GI Joe and was buried in an unmarked grave in our yard in San Diego. I didn't replace her. We went with My Little Pony mostly. They seemed to be able to hold their own against the Joes.
3 Days of Christmas Memories
When I started the tradition of going to friends' houses on Christmas Eve with my children, I don't think I put it together that my mom had always done that too. She'd bake all these awesome things and, on Christmas Eve make doughnuts. She'd arrange plates of her treats (which include handmade chocolates) and we'd hold these treasures steady in the backseat. We went to widows, old bachelors, disabled people, and a couple of just good friends. But mostly, she took her bounty to people who could not make these foods themselves. She could talk to anyone about anything and seemed completely at ease chatting with these folks as she brought them Christmas plates.
I started it with my kids one year when were we so poor that we only had gifts for the kids because the grandparents had sent some. I'd had a baby in the fall and had to give up my day-care, so money was extra tight. I had been moping around feeling sorry for myself because we had no money for Christmas when I had an epiphany like the Grinch: It isn't about tinklers, packages and bows!! So I organized the children and we baked cookies on Christmas Eve, they decorated them (and they looked like the work of a 3 and 2 year old) and when Dad got home our plan was to take these to friends' houses and sing to them. It used up the whole day and kept us very busy and was very satisfying and wonderful. And our friends loved it, too.
It was a good way to spend the loooong hours of Christmas Eve day in the ensuing years and we've done it ever since. Our children carried on the tradition when they went to college and on missions, and now as adults with their own homes they still bake and sing for Christmas. Multi-generational traditions are fabulous.
I started it with my kids one year when were we so poor that we only had gifts for the kids because the grandparents had sent some. I'd had a baby in the fall and had to give up my day-care, so money was extra tight. I had been moping around feeling sorry for myself because we had no money for Christmas when I had an epiphany like the Grinch: It isn't about tinklers, packages and bows!! So I organized the children and we baked cookies on Christmas Eve, they decorated them (and they looked like the work of a 3 and 2 year old) and when Dad got home our plan was to take these to friends' houses and sing to them. It used up the whole day and kept us very busy and was very satisfying and wonderful. And our friends loved it, too.
It was a good way to spend the loooong hours of Christmas Eve day in the ensuing years and we've done it ever since. Our children carried on the tradition when they went to college and on missions, and now as adults with their own homes they still bake and sing for Christmas. Multi-generational traditions are fabulous.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
4 Days of Christmas Memories
I think I was a freshman in high school when my mother had to have back surgery and was hospitalized at Christmas. One of my sister's came home from college (maybe both of them were in college) and each of them tried to be the "boss" since mother was gone. It was the saddest Christmas we ever had. Even though we had all the food, presents, and activities of the other years, the mere lack of her physical presence was so depressing that it didn't even seem like a holiday. I tried to remember this as I became a mother and started our own family traditions. It isn't the things you do, it's who you're doing it with that makes the Christmas spirit work.
5 Days of Christmas Memories
It's about Arizona, again. Even though my mother's parents lived down there half the year, they were a prominent part of our lives. When I was in sixth grade we even visited them in Mesa during the 10 day school holiday. My mother's younger brother, the air force pilot, was also living there, stationed at Luke AFB and he was scheduled to leave for Viet Nam in the spring (I think) so it seemed urgent to my mother to go there for Christmas. This does not seem like a big deal: go to a warm place during Christmas break. But--it involved hauling nine people in an Oldsmobile 88 sedan for a thousand miles and back again. In addition to that (I was oblivious at the time) my mother was pregnant (none too happily) with kid #8 who was due in July. She would have been at the nauseous, exhausted stage, packing for nine people and trying to figure out how to squish us all in there with the luggage for the two day journey. My dad had to spend an entire afternoon at an electronic guru's house trying to get our car radio to work (I was hanging around in the backseat for this ordeal, bored out of my skull.) And at last--what to do about the cows? The previous summer one of my second-cousins was our live-in hired helper, and he had proven himself reliable enough at 17 that my dad was willing to pay him and another kid (also 17) to live at our house and milk for the week we'd be gone. I can hardly imagine the courage this took. But all went well. (Except on Christmas Day when my dad had called and called and finally got an answer around 11:00 A.M. because they'd only just finished milking--by hand--because of a power outage.)
So we hit the road. I barely remember the driving. I do recall the waitresses peering through the round window of the door leading into the kitchen of a small cafe and counting wide-eyed as we entered, and entered and entered. Yes, table for nine, thank you. It was southern Utah. You'd think they'd seen a big family once or twice. I remember reveling in the palm trees and green grass at my uncle's apartment on December 24th and realizing that there were parts of the world where it wasn't frozen for months at a time. (Foreshadowing...) My adorable 4 year sister gave away my only present, a purple stuffed dog, to her new friend she met on the block where my grandparents lived. No one could figure out where it went and I never saw it again. She told us later.
My uncle took us out to eat at a really nice Mexican restaurant and none of us could finish our food---too spicy. He kept apologizing and explaining that usually it was much more mild. We had naive palates. We also went to see the movie "Goldfinger". At least the grown-ups went and I got to go too; it was a rare priviledge. Again my uncle apologizing to my parents...naked girl all covered in gold paint was the first thing on the screen. And wasn't there a character named "Pussy Galore"? That went right over my head. I was thinking kitty cats.
Anyway the whole trip was filled with amazing adventures, plants, and sights I'd never experienced. Saguaro cactus, yucca and joshua trees, Hoover Dam, Fremont Street in Las Vegas on New Year's Eve 1964, eating in restaurants, staying in motels!! My lack of sophistication was endless. The whole thing was incredible and unforgettable. I'm sure sitting in the backseat with five other people was appalling, and I have no idea how my parents financed the whole thing, but none of that even mattered. It was really a Christmas to remember.
So we hit the road. I barely remember the driving. I do recall the waitresses peering through the round window of the door leading into the kitchen of a small cafe and counting wide-eyed as we entered, and entered and entered. Yes, table for nine, thank you. It was southern Utah. You'd think they'd seen a big family once or twice. I remember reveling in the palm trees and green grass at my uncle's apartment on December 24th and realizing that there were parts of the world where it wasn't frozen for months at a time. (Foreshadowing...) My adorable 4 year sister gave away my only present, a purple stuffed dog, to her new friend she met on the block where my grandparents lived. No one could figure out where it went and I never saw it again. She told us later.
My uncle took us out to eat at a really nice Mexican restaurant and none of us could finish our food---too spicy. He kept apologizing and explaining that usually it was much more mild. We had naive palates. We also went to see the movie "Goldfinger". At least the grown-ups went and I got to go too; it was a rare priviledge. Again my uncle apologizing to my parents...naked girl all covered in gold paint was the first thing on the screen. And wasn't there a character named "Pussy Galore"? That went right over my head. I was thinking kitty cats.
Anyway the whole trip was filled with amazing adventures, plants, and sights I'd never experienced. Saguaro cactus, yucca and joshua trees, Hoover Dam, Fremont Street in Las Vegas on New Year's Eve 1964, eating in restaurants, staying in motels!! My lack of sophistication was endless. The whole thing was incredible and unforgettable. I'm sure sitting in the backseat with five other people was appalling, and I have no idea how my parents financed the whole thing, but none of that even mattered. It was really a Christmas to remember.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
6 Days of Christmas Memories
Every Christmas we would go to our other grandparents' house either on Christmas Eve or Christmas afternoon to visit. They lived only a couple of miles from us, and didn't go away in the winter. They raised my dad after he was orphaned at eight years old, but he didn't take their name. (It was many years before I understood they were actually blood relatives, but it is a convoluted story I won't go into here.) Their house was a huge ante-bellum style dwelling with vaulted ceilings built early in the 20th century. In fact, the plumbing was added some time later, as was the electricity. Their Christmas tree was enormous. It went right up to the ceiling in their living room, at least fifteen feet high. My aunts would decorate it with amazing precision--each icicle carefully placed until the whole tree was a shimmering cascade of tinsel. I was in awe, icicles were very tricky to put on artfully. We'd always get a gift, we often ate Christmas dinner with them. Sometimes our cousins from Salt Lake City were there, too. There was a long wooden bannister to slide down, and boxes and boxes of ancient magazines upstairs to read during boring times.
One Christmas Eve we went there to have a rather formal reading of the scripture story and gather reverently at the feet of our somewhat scary grandpa. However, one of my older sisters had perfected her imitation of Snaggle Puss, the cartoon cat, and had been going around quoting him for weeks. Remember? "Well, now, let's get out of here, EEEVUUN." So when Gandpa got to the part where the shepherds say "Let us go now, even unto Bethlehem" he read it in his sonorous voice and suddenly the four of us big girls were stifling ourselves and trying really hard not to all burst out laughing together at our mental version in Snaggle Puss' stupid cartoon voice "Let us go now EEVUUN, until Bethlehem." Our mother gave us SUCH a look---we didn't dare laugh. But none of us can read Luke 2 without remembering that horrible moment when our rather pompous grandpa would have kicked any of us right in the fanny for messing up his ceremony. We still laugh!
One Christmas Eve we went there to have a rather formal reading of the scripture story and gather reverently at the feet of our somewhat scary grandpa. However, one of my older sisters had perfected her imitation of Snaggle Puss, the cartoon cat, and had been going around quoting him for weeks. Remember? "Well, now, let's get out of here, EEEVUUN." So when Gandpa got to the part where the shepherds say "Let us go now, even unto Bethlehem" he read it in his sonorous voice and suddenly the four of us big girls were stifling ourselves and trying really hard not to all burst out laughing together at our mental version in Snaggle Puss' stupid cartoon voice "Let us go now EEVUUN, until Bethlehem." Our mother gave us SUCH a look---we didn't dare laugh. But none of us can read Luke 2 without remembering that horrible moment when our rather pompous grandpa would have kicked any of us right in the fanny for messing up his ceremony. We still laugh!
7 Days of Christmas Memories
When I was about 8 years old my grandfather (the one who'd send fruit and nuts from Arizona) made my sister and I a piece of furniture. It was a small hutch, with an upper cupboard, a counter top with a drawer under it, and a lower cupboard. It was painted pink, with aqua drawer pulls and interior shelves, a mirrored backing on the countertop and even plate rails in the upper cupboard shelves. It is a masterpiece of craftsmanship. He was an artist with wood, truly. Then, "Santa" filled it with tiny cake mixes and other mixes and we received an Easy-Bake oven that year!! Wow!! We had a blast with that thing. All of our toy dishes went into the cupboard, the drawer actually had a divider so we could separate our eating utensils from our mixing and stirring utensils. We played with our cupboard every day, I'm sure. We quickly went through our mixes, and I don't remember getting any new ones. And I don't know what happened to the oven.
But last year, just before my mother passed away, she insisted that we load up the pink cupboard in Cool Guy's truck and take it right then to our house. The sister with whom I shared it died two years ago, so I am the sole inheritor of that wonderful relic of our childhood. Two generations of kids played with it--first, my sisters and I, and then our children. It's quite worn, the countertop is peeling up and the drawer pulls are missing. But we'll fix it up and my grandchildren will get their turn rolling out pretend cookies on the counter and standing the plates up in the shelf rails. It is still a work of art--I don't know what inspired my grandpa, if my mother asked for it or if he just thought it up on his own. But I cherish it and I'm thrilled to have it for my kids.
But last year, just before my mother passed away, she insisted that we load up the pink cupboard in Cool Guy's truck and take it right then to our house. The sister with whom I shared it died two years ago, so I am the sole inheritor of that wonderful relic of our childhood. Two generations of kids played with it--first, my sisters and I, and then our children. It's quite worn, the countertop is peeling up and the drawer pulls are missing. But we'll fix it up and my grandchildren will get their turn rolling out pretend cookies on the counter and standing the plates up in the shelf rails. It is still a work of art--I don't know what inspired my grandpa, if my mother asked for it or if he just thought it up on his own. But I cherish it and I'm thrilled to have it for my kids.
Friday, December 21, 2007
8 Days of Christmas Memories
Our first Christmas tree after we married was rather small, and I didn't have extra money to buy decorations, so we got lights for it, but I made the rest of it. I rolled and cut out gingerbread boys, poked a hole in the dough before baking them, and when they cooled, I hung them with red curly ribbon from the branches. I also tied red bows on the tree and it looked adorable. I baked cookies for the decorations for several years until I found a kit for brown felt gingerbread boys. I sewed them (complete with red sequin eyes, and rick-rack "icing" trim) and they were our first permanent ornaments. I've had fun over the years adding to the homemade (well..."handmade") ornament collection. Plus our children have contributed a whole variety of awesome new ornaments from Cub Scouts, school, and just their creative minds. I also started buying an ornament from each of the American history destinations I've visited, so several tiny colonial style buildings are also hanging on our tree, too. The result is eclectic and sentimental. We like it. A lot.
9 Days of Christmas Memories
We always had a real pine tree for Christmas. My dad usually scouted it out while elk hunting in October. He'd go back up and chop it down, it would be propped up by the fence for a few days, and then we'd bring it in for the exciting challenge of fitting it into the stand. When a tree is growing on the side of a mountain, its scale is altered. It seems shorter and smaller than when it is standing in the living room. There wasn't a year that my dad successfully estimated the height of our living room. The tree always had to be sawed shorter. But it was also a very fresh, fragrant lush pine tree and it made the whole house smell fabulously. It was such an exciting time.
My mom had a string of lights shaped like birds that had some type of liquid in them that would bubble when they got warmed up. These were in addition to the regular tear-drop shaped multicolored lights on the fabric wrapped wires that clipped onto the branches. It seemed to take my dad forever to get the lights put on the tree so that we could then hang the ornaments. Someone always got too excited and dropped a glass ball, and reprimands and crying would ensue. [So, as a mother myself I sewed most of our Christmas tree decorations so that no one would have to get in trouble on tree decorating night.]
But finally the last string of "icicles" was placed and the angel adjusted and we'd turn off the living room lights and turn on the tree lights and oooh, aaaah---it was the BEST time of year!! It still is even today. Christmas trees are one of my favorite part of this holiday.
My mom had a string of lights shaped like birds that had some type of liquid in them that would bubble when they got warmed up. These were in addition to the regular tear-drop shaped multicolored lights on the fabric wrapped wires that clipped onto the branches. It seemed to take my dad forever to get the lights put on the tree so that we could then hang the ornaments. Someone always got too excited and dropped a glass ball, and reprimands and crying would ensue. [So, as a mother myself I sewed most of our Christmas tree decorations so that no one would have to get in trouble on tree decorating night.]
But finally the last string of "icicles" was placed and the angel adjusted and we'd turn off the living room lights and turn on the tree lights and oooh, aaaah---it was the BEST time of year!! It still is even today. Christmas trees are one of my favorite part of this holiday.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
10 Days of Christmas Memories
Today I made "Chocolate Refreshers" to take to my co-workers. This is one of my favorite Christmas memories. We always and only had them at Christmas because the recipe calls for dates, and dates were not available except at that time of year when I grew up, where I grew up. Actually, again, my grandpa would send them to us from Arizona--freshly harvested, ripe dates. My dad was the only one who would eat them undisguised. I still do not like ripe dates. However, my mother found a recipe that disguised them in the very best way you have ever eaten. I guess I have no choice but to include the recipe here, huh?
Chocolate Refreshers
1 ¼ c. chopped dates (you can buy them already chopped and the 8 oz. pack is enough)
¾ c. brown sugar, packed
½ c. butter or margarine
1 ¼ c. all purpose flour
¾ tsp. soda
½ tsp. salt
1 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 beaten eggs
½ c. orange juice
½ c. milk
1 c. chopped walnuts
Combine dates, brown sugar, water and butter in large saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until dates soften. Remove from heat. Stir in chocolate pieces and beaten eggs. Sift flour with soda and salt, adding alternately with orange juice and milk. Blend thoroughly. Add nuts. Bake in a greased and floured 15 x 10 x 2 inch pan at 350° for 25 to 30 minutes. Cool, spread with glaze. Cut in bars.
Orange Glaze:
1 ½ c. powdered sugar
2 Tbsp. soft butter
1 to 2 tsp. grated orange peel
2 to 3 Tbsp. cream
Okay, you make them now, and have a moist, orangey, chocolatey treat for the holidays.
Chocolate Refreshers
1 ¼ c. chopped dates (you can buy them already chopped and the 8 oz. pack is enough)
¾ c. brown sugar, packed
½ c. butter or margarine
1 ¼ c. all purpose flour
¾ tsp. soda
½ tsp. salt
1 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 beaten eggs
½ c. orange juice
½ c. milk
1 c. chopped walnuts
Combine dates, brown sugar, water and butter in large saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until dates soften. Remove from heat. Stir in chocolate pieces and beaten eggs. Sift flour with soda and salt, adding alternately with orange juice and milk. Blend thoroughly. Add nuts. Bake in a greased and floured 15 x 10 x 2 inch pan at 350° for 25 to 30 minutes. Cool, spread with glaze. Cut in bars.
Orange Glaze:
1 ½ c. powdered sugar
2 Tbsp. soft butter
1 to 2 tsp. grated orange peel
2 to 3 Tbsp. cream
Okay, you make them now, and have a moist, orangey, chocolatey treat for the holidays.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
11 Days of Christmas Memories
Yesterday our journal writing prompt was "List some gifts that don't cost money". My students were mostly stumped. They couldn't imagine something that would be worthwhile that didn't cost money. We finally talked it over and got some ideas about coupons for service, or spending time with a sibling, etc. Today I read them a storybook that one of my sisters sent me a couple of years ago that also tells the story of a gift we gave our dad each year for Christmas. I didn't hear this story until I was an adult, although Pearl Buck wrote it many, many years ago, and the church has made a movie of it, too. The book is very meaningful to me because the illustrations are so vividly similar to my home and barn as a child. My sister also knows the illustrator, so I have an autographed copy. It's a really lovely story and I encourage you to buy one, too.
We'd get up early on Christmas and sneak out and milk the cows before my dad would wake up. Then we'd sneak back in and hide in our bed in our clothes (we'd hear his alarm ringing as we'd come in and just barely have time to evade detection.) Then he'd come up and "wake" us up, we'd pretend to be sleeping, he'd go out and VOILA--already done! I remember doing this at least once, and I know my older sisters did it once or twice. But apparently we didn't do it often enough for him to expect it because he'd always go and check. It was a great surprise for him, because he'd come back in and go back to bed. I think we did it a couple of times and the second or third year, we just told him so he wouldn't have to get up and go out. He was a hard guy to get something for and this gift was just perfect.
We'd get up early on Christmas and sneak out and milk the cows before my dad would wake up. Then we'd sneak back in and hide in our bed in our clothes (we'd hear his alarm ringing as we'd come in and just barely have time to evade detection.) Then he'd come up and "wake" us up, we'd pretend to be sleeping, he'd go out and VOILA--already done! I remember doing this at least once, and I know my older sisters did it once or twice. But apparently we didn't do it often enough for him to expect it because he'd always go and check. It was a great surprise for him, because he'd come back in and go back to bed. I think we did it a couple of times and the second or third year, we just told him so he wouldn't have to get up and go out. He was a hard guy to get something for and this gift was just perfect.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
12 Days of Christmas Memories
I'm once again copying someone who is doing this, but I really liked it, so I'll just be a copier. Plus, I'm about three days late on the "12 Days" business. But that is just about right this month for my entire life. I'm behind in everything! I feel a slight breathlessness about the whole season. I realized on Sunday that I would not be able to finish and mail on time the gifts that go out of town. People will be receiving their gifts from me after Christmas. I won't have my cards out before Christmas. I will be lucky to have my laundry done in time to wear my Christmas shirts to school this week. ACCCKKK! I don't know why I'm so far behind. Maybe I'm just getting tired-er and slower as I age.
A memory: I remember receiving a package each year, as the holiday season approached, from my grandfather who'd migrate from Wyoming to Arizona for the winter. It contained, among other things, pecans from the most recent harvest in the Southwest. It was a great treasure to receive these. It also meant a lot of work. Our job as the children was to crack and shell them carefully, trying very hard to keep most of them whole. It was important, too, to clean off all of the membrane from the inside of the shell because it was very bitter and really ruined any baked product it got into. But, pecans were really yummy to eat while you shelled because, unlike walnuts, they didn't make your mouth sore. My mom would bake them into all the yummy things she created for Christmas and--best of all---pecan pie.
A memory: I remember receiving a package each year, as the holiday season approached, from my grandfather who'd migrate from Wyoming to Arizona for the winter. It contained, among other things, pecans from the most recent harvest in the Southwest. It was a great treasure to receive these. It also meant a lot of work. Our job as the children was to crack and shell them carefully, trying very hard to keep most of them whole. It was important, too, to clean off all of the membrane from the inside of the shell because it was very bitter and really ruined any baked product it got into. But, pecans were really yummy to eat while you shelled because, unlike walnuts, they didn't make your mouth sore. My mom would bake them into all the yummy things she created for Christmas and--best of all---pecan pie.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Some Old Friends
We were sifting through a drawer and found some pictures from a trip a few years ago. It was like getting a Christmas photo in the mail! It reminded us a of fun times and past acquaintences. Here, I'll share:
We're hoping some day to facilitate their courtship by, oh, I don't know--win the lotto and buy them both so they can share the same pedestal outside a little taco shop in National City, California?
This Mr. Bendo... He lives in Indianapolis, Indiana, outside a muffler shop. He used to have a muffler pipe in his upraised hand which he, of course, was bending. He looks quite sad. That's because his girlfriend lives in Blackfoot, Idaho, where she works as a waitress serving french fries. They don't get to see each other much, as it is difficult for him to get off work and harder still to get on a plane.
We're hoping some day to facilitate their courtship by, oh, I don't know--win the lotto and buy them both so they can share the same pedestal outside a little taco shop in National City, California?
How Did They Know?
I opened my mail on Friday and it made me look around my kitchen for tiny cameras, or perhaps bugging devices in the light fixture.
The top of the page read in huge letters: EXPERIENCING HOT FLASHES?
Um, well, yes. How did you know? You mean it's that obvious to everyone? Well, don't just send me letters, HELP!
Oh, as I opened up the whole page it was actually a solicitation for some clinical study. Okay. It was sent to women of a certain age--us Elders of the Tribe. Okay--call off the search for the surveillence items.
The top of the page read in huge letters: EXPERIENCING HOT FLASHES?
Um, well, yes. How did you know? You mean it's that obvious to everyone? Well, don't just send me letters, HELP!
Oh, as I opened up the whole page it was actually a solicitation for some clinical study. Okay. It was sent to women of a certain age--us Elders of the Tribe. Okay--call off the search for the surveillence items.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
I Vote YES
Here's a story from the world: CSM to which I just have to give a resounding "Hear! Hear!" These things are a huge scourge in the desert. Everywhere you go they are billowing and blowing. Most obnoxious invention of modern times.
Rare Weather
It rained gently all day Friday in Las Vegas. This is noteworthy because it rarely rains here, and my experience with precipitation in the desert has been mostly storms of the flash-flood variety: wind whipping, gale force, torrential cats&dogs rain. So, this rain was pleasant and non-threatening and lasted and lasted. It was nice that it was a kind storm because at the end of every day we teachers are still required to go and be traffic-cops as our families drive up to retrieve their students, and I didn't have to risk having my umbrella flipped inside out or getting soaked from rain being blasted sideways.
I was commenting to Cool Guy as we drove to the Thai place for dinner that the students were completely nuts because of the weather. Then suddenly as I had the thought "It's like they've never seen it rain before," I realized that, in fact, they have RARELY seen it rain. It rained on Aug 27, the first day of school, but it cleared up by noon. And the last previous rain was probably eight months earlier. So, in their lives of less than 10 years, there have not been many opportunities to feel rain falling on their skin and see shimmering drops of it running off the fences and cars. No wonder they act so silly and excited.
When we got to the restaurant, a block or two east of the Strip, we were treated to another rare event. Fog had descended over Glitter Gulch. All along the strip low clouds hung over the hotels and lights. The tops of all the buildings were obscured and the lights were all muted in the shrouding mist. We were two blocks from the Stratosphere, but we could not see the top. The towering legs went up and disappeared like the top of the Tower of Babel. It was quite surreal, especially because the fog was limited to Las Vegas Boulevard; the rest of the city was clear after the storm.
As we traveled home we drove along the east edge of the valley bowl toward our house and looking west, it was very strange to see the sea of lights suddenly blotted out in the center leaving only a glowing blur--Vegas, Baby, was gone.
I was commenting to Cool Guy as we drove to the Thai place for dinner that the students were completely nuts because of the weather. Then suddenly as I had the thought "It's like they've never seen it rain before," I realized that, in fact, they have RARELY seen it rain. It rained on Aug 27, the first day of school, but it cleared up by noon. And the last previous rain was probably eight months earlier. So, in their lives of less than 10 years, there have not been many opportunities to feel rain falling on their skin and see shimmering drops of it running off the fences and cars. No wonder they act so silly and excited.
When we got to the restaurant, a block or two east of the Strip, we were treated to another rare event. Fog had descended over Glitter Gulch. All along the strip low clouds hung over the hotels and lights. The tops of all the buildings were obscured and the lights were all muted in the shrouding mist. We were two blocks from the Stratosphere, but we could not see the top. The towering legs went up and disappeared like the top of the Tower of Babel. It was quite surreal, especially because the fog was limited to Las Vegas Boulevard; the rest of the city was clear after the storm.
As we traveled home we drove along the east edge of the valley bowl toward our house and looking west, it was very strange to see the sea of lights suddenly blotted out in the center leaving only a glowing blur--Vegas, Baby, was gone.
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