A Little Stressed
Ok, I have a little stress in my life. I'm interested in creative solutions that do not require more exertion to accomplish or cause me to lose my job.
Items are as follows:
- Brother broken in snowboarding accident. Seems to be doing well with foreign doctors in foreign land.
- Grandmother is hospitalized. Does have feeling her toes again, another blessing.
- Grades are due tomorrow at noon. I have a crapload of grading tonight.
- Parent/Teacher conferences this week, not fun, but productive and always interesting.
- Tree has not been delivered for Oklahoma! Not sure how to fix that. Anybody got a chain saw?
- Cat had fleas. House had fleas. I think fleas are gone, but am unsure.
- Dental issues but no time to go to dentist this week
- Very stuffy nose and sore throat, brand new today. Might have something to do with the bit of onion burger I inhaled while laughing last night.
Ok, prayers appreciated. Advice welcomed should it be useful advice.
Numbers Games
Odds of winning a Multi-State
Mega-Millions Lottery Jackpot:
1 in 135,145,920
Odds of having a child with Autism:
1 in 166
Additional Prayer Request
My Grandmother had a stroke last night. She's in the hospital today and very alert, but has no feeling from the waist down. This may or may not be related to the surgery she had last week to fix a hole in the wall of her bladder, but the next 24 hours are going to be critical.
She's in Bethlehem, PA.
Family all feels very far away at the moment.
Tom Update
AN Update from my parents this morning(They called me at seven. Aren't you glad I didn't call you?):
"We spoke to Tom at 0500 MDT-100PM local time in Austria on 10/30/2005. He is in good shape and spirits considering his condition and says the care is very good.
"He gave this report as to how he was injured:
"He fell on his elbow with the elbow impacting his side on the first run down the mountain. The fall broke two ribs and pierced his spleen. He knew he was in discomfort but took the lift back to the top of the mountain where breathing difficulty led him to flag down the ski patrol who had him med evacuated off the mountain to the hospital in Schwaz.
"At the hospital-about four hours later - his spleen ruptured - indicated by a quick drop in blood pressure-and was removed .
"When he was first admitted to the hospital the staff thought they would have to keep him under observation for a week because they suspected severe internal injuries. Now he will be transferred to a US military hospital as soon as his condition permits.
"We will post information as soon as we get it.
"Prayers for a safe recovery are in order. "
Yep, please continue to pray. His girlfriend Liesel is headed out to get to him today.--she was headed out on Wednesday anyway, so this is pretty great timing for a major injury. Or whatever. Hm.
Please Pray
My brother hurt himself snowboarding this afternoon. He's broken a few ribs and punctured his spleen. He's currently in surgery to repair or remove the spleen. This is all happening in Germany (he's stationed there), so he won't have any immediate family support when he wakes up.
Please pray.
It’s late tech night…. oh dearie, dear, dear. I’ve spent a relatively successful week with the kiddos and hopefully tonight will be more of the same.
I’m actually surprisingly good on this build. Only a few things to finish up tonight and we’re pretty much done. Two fences, some house painting, a few props to gather, a roof to attach, cornstalks to perfect, bales of hay to…um…well, shellac or glue together. I can only explain the purposes behind shellacking hay in very colorful language or in person (possibly both are required, but maybe I’ve grown out of that).
In other
Oklahoma! news, a freshman put sawdust in my little bag of Gardetto’s yesterday. She was thinking she’d play a joke on another student. Hardy har har.
It was very funny when I dumped it into my mouth and started to chew. It took me a minute to realize what was going on, then I just gave her a loooong look (I have to be the adult and adding sawdust to food is not an adult-approvable action) and went to the restroom to rinse out my mouth. All would be fine except I got some stuck between two molars.
Science question: What happens when wood (say, small pieces like sawdust) absorbs moisture (say, saliva)?
Science Answer: it expands.
Result: I have a small but painful chunk of wet wood between my molars and I can’t even floss it out—the floss breaks.
I’m not sure how I’ll fix this one.
In other news, I think the most rewarding thing of the week has been watching a bunch of at-risk students get really enthusiastic about making pillows during the sewing unit we’re doing in Theatre Production. It’s much easier on me than giving them hard, sharp, electrified, heavy objects in an enclosed space.
Other than having to point out that one does not “pin the little f**kers together” or put down the presser foot “like an ugly man on a ho” in school, it’s been a lot of fun. It’s brought up a lot of good memories of kids’ grandmothers. It’s nice to hear from the soft side of certain kids sometimes.
Ok, I’m going to go see my good friend s at Menard’s. Some of them actually know my name these days. Yipes? Yipee? Who cares, they’ve got my shellac.
A Really Good Idea
Map yourself! Skulkers may be excused if they wish to continue skulking in the mist.
Animals I Have Eaten (*Updated*)
Multiple times (and I’d do it again): Pig, Cow/Bull, Chicken, Duck, Buffalo, Fish, Shrimp, Lobster, Crab, Abalone, Alligator, Squid, Octopus, Deer, Elk, Ostrich, Shark, Turtle, Crawfish, Fish in the egg (caviar), Pheasant, Grouse, Chucker, Rabbit, Oysters, Clams, Snails.
Once (but maybe again): Pigeon, Frog.
Once (and never again): Caterpillar, Eel, Squirrel, Beaver, Raccoon (I was lied to), Moths (I know very deceptive people).
Things I’ve probably eaten, but can’t be sure about (and that’s probably a good thing): Dog, Camel, Horse.
Lots of boring posts lately, but I've got a couple of good stories simmering. Stay tuned for them to make their way into cyberspace.
Oh, the elk meat arrived and is yummy. If you want to try part of an elk burger, let me know before it's gone.
A Plea.
My dad is mailing me a chunk of elk meat. It will arrive tomorrow before noon at my house.
Anyone want to volunteer to hang out in my living room, watch cable, surf the net and pet the cat until it arrives? It just doesn't seem sensible for it to sit on the front porch all day.
Coming to Riverview Part II
A little more than two years ago I started going to Riverview. In late August or early September of 2003 I attended my first Riverview service. I’d been lonely at the church I had been active at through my college years for a while. I still enjoyed the services, but didn’t really feel connected anymore. Most of my friends had moved on and I just never seemed to click with the newbies. I’d stopped working with the middle schoolers the year before (I had all I could handle with my classes at school).
There just wasn’t a sense of community for me there. I couldn’t stand being one of few twenty-something singles there anymore. And I felt odd bringing people there. That was probably the final deciding factor-- I needed somewhere that would support sharing faith by being welcoming, interesting and open.
Sometimes I felt my own closeness to God slipping away simply because I lacked similarly dedicated people to converse with. Fellowship is necessary. It’s not that there weren’t good people, because there were, but I lacked people who could walk with me instead of just remembering the road.
I couldn’t be only sharing and giving of my faith and not miss the fellowship of other believers to wrestle the messy questions with.
Sunday Sweets
Here I am on a Sunday night with cat and Dateline (the TV show you freak!).
It's been a full week. I'm still tired and still struggling with a fall melancholy, but it's been a good few days.
Friday was Clark & Kristen's Engagement Party (double dachshunds! A little piece of heaven) Good to see people for a bit. The chili had a bit of heat in it, so did the bonfire and the people provided the rest.
Left that early to bond with the woman upstairs (Amy) and enjoyed the Corpse Bride. Ok, but I'm not sure it was great. Tim Burton must have a thing for dead chicks.
Beetlejuice,
The Nightmare Before Christmas,
Edward Scissorhands (well, no dead chick, but Johnny Depp looks mighty corpse-like until he gets his makeover). Heck, even
Pee-Wee's Big Adventure had rather demonic Large Marge.
I'm also reasonably sure part of the skeleton's dance had to have been a tribute to an early cartoon with skeletons dancing in it. I'm sure I've seen it before. Bonus cookies to the person who can prove me right.
Did a superfunawesomecool trip to Sandusky yesterday. I love roller coasters. There's something about safe scares and weightlessness that's just simply bliss. Happily, I enjoyed the people I was waiting in line for HOURS with. Special thanks that I didn't have to drive.
Today was good for different reasons. It wasn't a particularly fun day, but I did get the chance to go out to brunch with gals after church and spend time in the library (David Sedaris,
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim; Thomas Friedman,
Longitudes and Attitudes--yes, I'm finally finishing it; Pete Fromm,
As Cool As I Am; and because I couldn't find a happy novel that didn't seem to focus on wild sexual antics or politics, Dave Barry's
Boogers Are My Beat.)
I also spent some time refocusing. I recently had a conversation with a teacher who's survived many years of teacher stress. She said the best way to find balance in teaching and personal life and take less of the job home with me is to have a rich family life.
Thank you.
Pardon me while I toss myself out the window.
Seeing as my life isn't turning out as planned, but is turning out well anyway most days. And I do, as Steve pointed out this morning, need to keep in mind I'm not living for myself (or shouldn't be) and do need to give. Still there's this issue of when I am an ever-flowing fountain of givingness, I'm not emotionally healthy. Still to work on: boundaries as I give with an open hand.
In other news, check out
this article I found via
this article in Slate. All I can say is that I hope children don't accidentally see it and that it does make its point-- that shouldn't happen to anyone, including smurfs. And what the heck is Katie thinking?
Just a Quicky
Yes, I'm still alive. But I really don't think life is meant to be lived at this pace. Please pray for the frustrations involved with working with teens.
I'm excited that I might get 8 hours of sleep tonight.
I like NBC's News 10.
I need to go to work now.
Coming to Riverview
I wrote this a few weeks ago after reading Noel's posts about church hopping. It's got a second part with a slightly different perspective that I may post later.I came to Riverview because it was that or crawl into a hole and become a crazy cat lady ahead of schedule.
Here’s the timeline:
Early September: Attend once with Amy. Hear about Quarter Life. Ask the at-that-time-unknown Mark about the bowling that was announced. Let him stare at me as if I have two heads and a large purple rhino horn on each. Finally give up. Think to self: “Nope. Wrong place for us.” You see, there was an “us” at that point.
September 17, 2003: Brother has returned from Iraq. I’m flying to Idaho to see him and the ‘rents. Guy-who-moved-to-Czechoslovakia-and-didn’t-invite-me is driving me to the airport (the other part of the “us” mentioned above). My car is in his side yard. Decides to launch into the friends speech near Ypsilanti. Hold it together and get on the plane.
September 21, 2003: Arrive home to Amy at the airport. Pick up car. Put all relational crap in boxes. Decide to mail the one that must be mailed the next day. Sit on couch for a looooooooooong time. Decide it is not necessary to ever move from couch. Count swirls on ceiling. Decide swirled ceilings are better than flat. Etc.
September 22, 2002: Teach classes. Repeat couch activity.
September 23, 2003: Teach classes. Repeat couch activity. Decide I’m pathetic. Consider adopting half a dozen kittens. Get off couch. Show up at Raider for Quarter Life.
Septemeber 27, 2003: Arrive at the 7 o’clock at Riverview.
The rest is history.
Cockroaches
This was written a while ago, and still needs work, but as I found a cockroach carapace in the theater this week and still couldn't pick it up, I thought I'd share a bit of my history with the little creatures.I woke up in the middle of the night. Only my second night in Zimbabwe. Still kinda feeling like I should be up and doing things. That time change thing.
I swung my feet off the bed and slipped them into thick cork flip flops (a gift from a much-loved roommate who knew what I’d be facing in a third world country), I heaved myself up and groggily tried to remember where the light switch was. Crunching across the floor, my hand unsuccessfully searched the wall. In the dim light I thought I saw something small move. Opening the door into the hallway, I wished I’d put on my glasses. My tired eyes were telling my exhausted brain lies. It seemed as though the walls and floors were shifting uneasily in front of me.
Still feeling drugged, I switched on the hall light and to my horror, thousands of cockroaches scattered back in to the floorboards, out the windows and into the cracks in the walls. I suddenly remembered that floors aren’t supposed to crunch. With some trepidation, I took off a shoe and looked at the bottom. Sticky with bug guts. Incredibly gross, but what could I do? I shuffled down the hall and used the bathroom, crawled back into bed and tried not to think of what horror movie activities might be going on as I slept.
That was my first indication of the war to come. As we settled in there were more small battles. Some of them were won, but I am uneasily aware many more were lost. I’d open a new box of cereal and pour myself a bowl, only to discover a tiny head with feelers poking its way out of the milk. These half-grown insects were the most troublesome size. Just about the size of a ladies’ watch face, they slipped out of my bible in church. They skittered from my text books in class. They got inside the peels of bananas and waited for me to open them so they could pop out and shout “Boo!” Anywhere there was space to slide a penny (and some that I am sure there was not) was almost sure to contain a cockroach or two.
I drove my roommates nuts with my stifled yips of surprise those first couple weeks, but eventually I acclimated to their revolting presence. Don’t get me wrong, to this day I dry heave at the memories, but I gave in and washed my dishes before and after I ate. I got used to finding bugs in anything that was not in an imported Ziploc plastic bag. I skimmed tiny cockroaches no bigger than a grain of sand out of my rice after I dumped it in to boil and ate the rice anyway. I calmly shook bottle cap-sized ones out of my clothes before dressing. I knew I had acclimated too far when I woke up one night to a tugging at my lip, brushed away the cockroach that had been drinking my saliva and rolled over to go back to sleep with only a slight sense of disgust.
I have very few phobias, but cockroaches top the list.
I want to be part of a book club. I've been looking into online ones. It seems you either have to be really into them or into strangers. Haven't found the right fit yet. Perhaps I'll try to start one.
Saw soemthign beautiful today. There's a bright blue walk-overpass thing on my way home from school. The road I aprroach it from is at an angle to it so I see the stairs perfectly outlined. There was a young woman descending those stairs in a red shirt, kahkis, long brown hair and sunshine. She wasn't particularly beautiful, but the whole of it was.
I really like the relationship between husband and wife on the show
Medium. Good to have healthy realtionships on TV. Perhaps more on that later.
Pants
I destroy pants at the same rate that a two year old destroys highly valuable glass objects. My name inspires terror in all the pantzing nations. Mother pants tell their little knickers horrible stories about me to keep them behaving properly.
I rip them on exposed screws. I stain them with coffee and dirt. I drip paint, paste, wall sizing and substances unknown upon them.
So I buy cheap, comfortable pants from Old Navy or Target. I never pay more than $30 for any pair and usually look for fashions under $20 that are still fashionable.
I was buying pants yesterday. I do this alone. I do not ask people if the pants make my backside look large. I am aware it is large and camoflage can only do so much. I found a really good sale on $15 pants.
However, when a pair of pants makes me think perhaps I need a few more thongs in my wardrobe, all is not well.
I bought the $17 pairs instead.
They're soft like flannel sheets already.
I really like the colors.
Morbidly Romantic
I was in the basement of the main library listening to a jazz group called Glissando yesterday. They played an interesting mix of tejano, jazz and classical.
But here's where the title comes in; while playing the lead guy was encouraged to tell a story about the Andean music they were about to play. He started out by saying that many South American tribes had engaged in cannibalism. Then he told the story of a medicine man who was called away to another village and found that his wife had died and been buried in his absence. He was so filled with grief that he dug her up and made a flute out of her femur.
The band all kinda laughed. The audience all kinda laughed. He commented that it was kinda morbidly romantic--he wanted to keep a part of her near him.
Yeah, I see it.
But I don't dream of such love for myself.
Bloggers Beware
I don’t blog so that people can get to know me. I’m aware there are those who are quietly skulking in the blogosphere, but they’re the nosebleed seats. They see vague outlines, but unless they find a way to use binoculars, they won’t see much.
I blog so that those who know me can keep connected in the hectic whirlwinds of our lives. The levels of friendship are not categorized, but it amuses me how much different the interpretations of what I write are based on who’s reading them. Many of you extrapolate a light comment into my deeper issue (right or wrong, you’re always interesting). Many are just amused and move on. Some are putting the pieces together and I’m impressed by the pictures you toss back at me.
But here’s the catch; this is my blog and it’s in a public forum. In a very
The Outer Limits-esque/”We control your television”-manner, I control what you see of me. Being transparent is a good thing, but not when that transparency is dangerous to others. And ultimately I don’t think everyone should know my every thought or feeling. There are reasons we call it intimacy and reserve it for those who are close.
If internet dating has taught me anything, it’s that connections forged through a computer screen are limited and in large part creations of whoever is reading’s mind .
*****Side note: a new study discovered teachers are the profession most likely to use an online dating service. To that I say “duh!” The majority of males I’m around on an average day are zitty 16 year olds. Ick. Men my own age have enough issues, thank you very much. But I digress. *****
I’ve met guys who were being incredibly humble about the whole thing and were much more Mr. Wonderful in person than a profile would suggest. Still, the controlled image is dangerous. Flaws can be covered up. Genuine answers can be recalculated to please. I’m not at the same risk as a twelve year old, but it’s worth looking for the subtext of the writing before beginning to think I know someone via the internet.
Any connection felt through this blog is superficial. You get some of what’s in my head, but not a ton of context. You miss my tones, my facial expressions, my body language. I might get a comment back, but it’s thought out in the wait time and not that instantaneous magic that is a meaty, real conversation. If you chose to give any at all, I miss your verbal cues and feedback. This just isn’t a substitute.
Heck, I’ll admit I skulk. I’ve got a fair number of blogs I stop by regularly. Don’t even know some of the people. Probably never will. Won’t leave a comment unless something really strikes a cord. Might wish I could go out for Southwest Egg rolls with a couple of them. Might send virtual flowers at some point. But I won’t pretend I really “get” them or that it would be OK for me to call them up for egg rolls or send real flowers.
I’m not a Gen-Xer trying to be heard. I’m not a single woman trying to fill an empty house. I’m not a militant trying to convert you to my ideologies (most of the time;). I’m not trying to be deep or even thoughtful as I stuff my words onto the screen. Use this for its entertainment value. Use it to figure out what rabid rats have been frolicking on the treadmill of my brain. But if you really want to know, let’s go have coffee. Or tea. Or grape leaves. Or Crunchy Burgers before they go out of business. Or Ethiopian food. Let’s be
real people. I’m missing you.
Yard Waste
I think I've blogged about a lot of the random crap I've dug out of my yard in the past year or so. My house has a past and it was not always given the loving care I lavish upon it.
I'm not suprised when I turn up condoms, riblet bones, legos, matchbox cars, fast food wrappers, flatware, and the occasional sock or beer bottle, but I was surpised to pull a full-sized doormat from my window well yesterday as I was winterizing the house. How many more treasures are in store?
I just can't wait.
