Tropical Storm Fay amounted to little more than a day off school and a thorough watering of every lawn in Florida. I'm glad; don't get me wrong. I don't enjoy hurricanes. NO ONE wants to watch the weather report THAT many times. Sheesh. I hadn't watched the weather in a few years and last night I watched it so many times I lost count.
And did I mention the interruption to my sleep? Ask my children if I like to be woke up before it's officially morning. Ask my mom and siblings if I've EVER liked to be woke up before it's officially morning.
Nevermind. Don't ask them. I'll just tell you. I do NOT like to be woke up before it's officially morning. Which, contrary to popular opinion is not before 9:30...and I'm being generous. 10:00 or 11:00 is even better.
But for the sake of safety I kept setting my alarm, sleeping, hearing the alarm and thinking "It CAN'T be morning...oh wait, it's the storm...go check the news." Then back to bed and ... lather, rinse, repeat as necessary.
In the end, for us, it amounted to lots and lots of rain but little wind. Trees kept their limbs and everything. And I'm glad for that...and the straight 5 hours I got between 5:30am and 10:30am. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...finally. :)
So thank you, Fay, for not gathering your strength and your speed and wiping us out. We're all very thankful.
More appropriately, thank you, God, for watching over us and sparing us the destruction that nature far too often visits upon people all over this world.
*I don't mean to make light. So for those of you who may read this and have gone through serious hurricane damage, please...don't be offended. I know it can be very serious. I weathered Hurricane Charlie in a bathtub under a mattress a few years ago and quite fortunately my condo was untouched. Many people lost their homes...or at minimum their roofs, and I don't take that lightly at all.
And now, I'm off to seek some sleep. Tomorrow will be the second first day of kindergarten this year. The first one was really exhausting. I'm thinking the second first one will not be much more merciful. On the lighter side of that, I DID hear one of my new students talking about "back in the day" in reference to her preschool class, lol. It's gonna be a good one!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Hurricane anyone?
Tonight I'll keep it short and sweet. Well, short anyway.
We have the glorious Tropical-Storm-Wanna-Be-A-Hurricane Fay heading our way tonight...somewhere around 2am. My girls are spending the night at their dad's because he lives further inland.
I survived the first day of kindergarten this morning and it's the best "first day" I've had in years. I'm encouraged that maybe I can actually handle it this year. YAY! My last few years, for anyone who hasn't heard, have been ... what's the word?.....CHALLENGING. Yes that's it, they were challenging.
This year already feels different. I'm encouraged.
And that's all for this evening from Hurricane Alley.....
We have the glorious Tropical-Storm-Wanna-Be-A-Hurricane Fay heading our way tonight...somewhere around 2am. My girls are spending the night at their dad's because he lives further inland.
I survived the first day of kindergarten this morning and it's the best "first day" I've had in years. I'm encouraged that maybe I can actually handle it this year. YAY! My last few years, for anyone who hasn't heard, have been ... what's the word?.....CHALLENGING. Yes that's it, they were challenging.
This year already feels different. I'm encouraged.
And that's all for this evening from Hurricane Alley.....
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Well, what would YOU have done?
About four and a half years ago, I took a little trip to Chicago. And boy was it an adventure! Of course it was...because I was with Kristen again. Somehow she and I don't have "normal" trips. They're always adventures with the oddest things happening and we always laugh ourselves silly. And this was no different.
I'll save some of our mischief for another day because there are photos to find before I share it. Some of you will remember it, but for some it will be new so I'll tell the tale another day.
But for today I want to focus on the whole reason I was in Chicago. Kristen's 3rd of 4 daughters was being baptised in this big Catholic church there. Now I'm not Catholic and other than a wedding or two haven't been to a Catholic church so it was a new experience for me. The baptism was on a Sunday afternoon when there was no one in the church except for a few groups of people there for their babies' baptisms.
I basically knew no one but Kristen and her hubby before going that weekend, though I'd met a few of the others that morning. Our group waited and eventually they called for Kristen's daughter's baptism and the group went forward to stand up for the baptism. I wasn't an "official" member of the party so I was standing on the fringe. So when the baby began crying, Kristen finally gave the signal for me to go grab a bottle for her. So I quietly headed back to the rows where the diaper bag and all our coats, etc., were sitting. It was several rows over.
A couple things to note here. The church was huge. The floors were hard wood (except maybe up the aisles??) And the place was more or less empty of people. All that set us up for some LOVELY acoustics. Translation: You'd better be quiet or EVERYONE will hear and there will be a TREMENDOUS echo.
So I quietly head toward the diaper bag and the coveted baby bottle. I make it over most inconspicuously. But then as I went to pick up the bottle, I'm not sure what happened but it fell with a LOUD *THUMP*. Now,what would YOU have done? Hmmm...? I suppose most normal folk would have thrown an apologetic look toward the folks over at the baptism (because, after all, they're ALL looking at you with the racket you just caused.)
But what did I do? I'll tell you what I did: I HIT THE DECK! I didn't want everyone to see me. lol I was too embarrassed. Of course, then I had the predicament of deciding what to do now that I was down on the floor. Do I just...stand up? Didn't sound too smart. Of course, dropping to the floor wasn't a stroke of genius. Do I look for an exit? That wouldn't do much good. After all, Kristen is waiting for the bottle with a very unhappy baby. So I did the only thing I could do. I stayed low and snuck to the back of the church until I thought everyone would have returned their attention to the priest and I QUIETLY stood up and quickly made my way back to the group, delivering the bottle.
Of course, everyone in our group KNEW it had been me...as I could tell by the smiles of some who saw me returning up the aisle. But apparently I'd kept the priest guessing. Later, Kristen told me that when they all heard the loud *THUMP*, they all turned to look, and seeing nothing, the priest said something like, "Guess we've got a ghost today." hee hee hee...errrr, I mean, "BOO."
I'll save some of our mischief for another day because there are photos to find before I share it. Some of you will remember it, but for some it will be new so I'll tell the tale another day.
But for today I want to focus on the whole reason I was in Chicago. Kristen's 3rd of 4 daughters was being baptised in this big Catholic church there. Now I'm not Catholic and other than a wedding or two haven't been to a Catholic church so it was a new experience for me. The baptism was on a Sunday afternoon when there was no one in the church except for a few groups of people there for their babies' baptisms.
I basically knew no one but Kristen and her hubby before going that weekend, though I'd met a few of the others that morning. Our group waited and eventually they called for Kristen's daughter's baptism and the group went forward to stand up for the baptism. I wasn't an "official" member of the party so I was standing on the fringe. So when the baby began crying, Kristen finally gave the signal for me to go grab a bottle for her. So I quietly headed back to the rows where the diaper bag and all our coats, etc., were sitting. It was several rows over.
A couple things to note here. The church was huge. The floors were hard wood (except maybe up the aisles??) And the place was more or less empty of people. All that set us up for some LOVELY acoustics. Translation: You'd better be quiet or EVERYONE will hear and there will be a TREMENDOUS echo.
So I quietly head toward the diaper bag and the coveted baby bottle. I make it over most inconspicuously. But then as I went to pick up the bottle, I'm not sure what happened but it fell with a LOUD *THUMP*. Now,what would YOU have done? Hmmm...? I suppose most normal folk would have thrown an apologetic look toward the folks over at the baptism (because, after all, they're ALL looking at you with the racket you just caused.)
But what did I do? I'll tell you what I did: I HIT THE DECK! I didn't want everyone to see me. lol I was too embarrassed. Of course, then I had the predicament of deciding what to do now that I was down on the floor. Do I just...stand up? Didn't sound too smart. Of course, dropping to the floor wasn't a stroke of genius. Do I look for an exit? That wouldn't do much good. After all, Kristen is waiting for the bottle with a very unhappy baby. So I did the only thing I could do. I stayed low and snuck to the back of the church until I thought everyone would have returned their attention to the priest and I QUIETLY stood up and quickly made my way back to the group, delivering the bottle.
Of course, everyone in our group KNEW it had been me...as I could tell by the smiles of some who saw me returning up the aisle. But apparently I'd kept the priest guessing. Later, Kristen told me that when they all heard the loud *THUMP*, they all turned to look, and seeing nothing, the priest said something like, "Guess we've got a ghost today." hee hee hee...errrr, I mean, "BOO."
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Funny little kid comment...
Today the girls each chose an item we found at a jewelry clearance sale. Alli chose a set of bangles and Meg chose a pair of clip-on earrings.
We left the store and were all riding along quietly, a lull in conversation, when suddenly Megan exclaimed, "FIRST of all, these things hurt like the DICKENS!" Just...out of the blue. ROFL! It was SO funny. (You might have had to have been there, but I laughed like a hyena.)
I love that girl. She cracks me up!
We left the store and were all riding along quietly, a lull in conversation, when suddenly Megan exclaimed, "FIRST of all, these things hurt like the DICKENS!" Just...out of the blue. ROFL! It was SO funny. (You might have had to have been there, but I laughed like a hyena.)
I love that girl. She cracks me up!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Friday Foto Finish Fiesta
Gotta join in on the Friday Foto Finish Fiesta. And my submission this week is (OBVIOUSLY) the photo to the left. It is about four-and-a-half years ago. Meg was in Kindergarten and she's starting 5th grade this Monday. Unbelievable. And that would make Alli about three.
I've always loved this picture and had never stopped to think of why. When I chose it this evening, I thought about it...and I guess one reason would be that it's just that it looks so cute to see two tiny sisters just ... ya know...hangin' out...havin' a yogurt drink...chillin' in their ultra-cool helmets. It's like their in their own little world. And another reason is just because they're mine. :D
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Me? A Weakling???
I've always been the featherweight of the group...ANY group. As a kid I'd get the comments like "A stiff wind would blow you away." As a teen, a guy in youth group would joke that I was so thin I could hide behind a telephone pole...or a blade of grass (except my hair...which was always BIG...FREAKY BIG.) And along with being thin was the assumption that I was a weakling. OK, THAT'S pretty much true, too.
Or is it?
This past July, the girls and I spent two weeks in Montana with my brother who is pastor of a Nazarene church there. My brother is 16 months older than me, and he and I were close growing up...like best friends. We played together as kids and had a lot of fun. Mind you, him being a boy and all, the stuff we played was always boy-friendly. He never condescended to playing Barbies. No, he drug me outside to play baseball, to jump out of the hayloft, to go gloppin' (a game where we'd wear oversized galoshes and step in deep gooey mud, then try to get the loose galoshes out without falling into the mud, and listening to that big "sssssssssssloooooooooooooooP!" sound they'd make as they were pulled free), to hunt for arrowheads (and we found a BUNCH!), to go wading in the creek, to racing our goats (lol). You name it, we did it (except for Barbies, of course)...(no offense to Barbie dot com.)
Anyway....what was I saying?
Oh yes, my brother and I always played boy-type games. One of my less favorites was wrestling. Only he would stay on his knees and I got to get on my feet...to try to even the playing field. Translation: to help me last more than five seconds without getting pinned.
Well, we're older now...especially him. :D But apparently I'm the only one who grew up. While we were there this summer, on our LAST night in Montana, we were at his house for just a very short while and he starts swinging at me, like he's trying to start a fight/wrestle/boxing...skirmish. He just started batting at me, trying to draw me into it. So I decide to go all ninja-queen (or was it karate?) on him and pretend I'm kicking him. I always did that...and he grabbed my ankle, so I jumped up on him. (Shoot, I'm not hopping around on one leg. I'm too dignified for that, lol.)
So he carries me a half dozen or so steps across the room to the junction of two walls (which are made of huge logs because he lives in a log cabin...and which feels like the scales on the back of a dinosaur when your brother smashes them into your back...even if he's fairly gentle about it, lol). With the growing pressure of the dinosaur scales in my back, I give up momentarily and let go of him...and he lets me down. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...no more dino-scales. Whew. He backs away and I walk toward him ... he takes another swing and the "fight" ensues. Still the ninja-queen I give another kick. Wuuuupaaaaw!
My brother doubles over grabbing his hand and rushing to the furthest corner of the room. We (his wife, our mom, his son, and I) all start throwing questions. "What's wrong?!" "Are you okay?" etc., all of which are greeted with "DON'T TALK TO ME!" and some steely glares from my brother.
Finally he gets over the angry-pain (though still in significant pain) and he chokes out, "You've hurt me worse than ANY grown man has ever hurt me." And he coined a new phrase "It hurts worse than a kick in the thumb." It was determined that his thumb was either dislocated or broken.
So of course, me being so compassionate and all, I felt overcome with guilt and cried great tears of remorse. Or not. Okay, the truth is that I laughed......a lot. I DID apologize, but I couldn't help but laugh.
And then I gloated. The next morning at his church I asked if he'd like to thumb wrestle.
He passed.
I'm thinking about offering some sort of body guard service. I figure I'll take 'em down by the thumbs.
And they thought I'd never be more than a weakling....
I showed THEM, Hmmmmmm?
Or is it?
This past July, the girls and I spent two weeks in Montana with my brother who is pastor of a Nazarene church there. My brother is 16 months older than me, and he and I were close growing up...like best friends. We played together as kids and had a lot of fun. Mind you, him being a boy and all, the stuff we played was always boy-friendly. He never condescended to playing Barbies. No, he drug me outside to play baseball, to jump out of the hayloft, to go gloppin' (a game where we'd wear oversized galoshes and step in deep gooey mud, then try to get the loose galoshes out without falling into the mud, and listening to that big "sssssssssssloooooooooooooooP!" sound they'd make as they were pulled free), to hunt for arrowheads (and we found a BUNCH!), to go wading in the creek, to racing our goats (lol). You name it, we did it (except for Barbies, of course)...(no offense to Barbie dot com.)
Anyway....what was I saying?
Oh yes, my brother and I always played boy-type games. One of my less favorites was wrestling. Only he would stay on his knees and I got to get on my feet...to try to even the playing field. Translation: to help me last more than five seconds without getting pinned.
Well, we're older now...especially him. :D But apparently I'm the only one who grew up. While we were there this summer, on our LAST night in Montana, we were at his house for just a very short while and he starts swinging at me, like he's trying to start a fight/wrestle/boxing...skirmish. He just started batting at me, trying to draw me into it. So I decide to go all ninja-queen (or was it karate?) on him and pretend I'm kicking him. I always did that...and he grabbed my ankle, so I jumped up on him. (Shoot, I'm not hopping around on one leg. I'm too dignified for that, lol.)
So he carries me a half dozen or so steps across the room to the junction of two walls (which are made of huge logs because he lives in a log cabin...and which feels like the scales on the back of a dinosaur when your brother smashes them into your back...even if he's fairly gentle about it, lol). With the growing pressure of the dinosaur scales in my back, I give up momentarily and let go of him...and he lets me down. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...no more dino-scales. Whew. He backs away and I walk toward him ... he takes another swing and the "fight" ensues. Still the ninja-queen I give another kick. Wuuuupaaaaw!
My brother doubles over grabbing his hand and rushing to the furthest corner of the room. We (his wife, our mom, his son, and I) all start throwing questions. "What's wrong?!" "Are you okay?" etc., all of which are greeted with "DON'T TALK TO ME!" and some steely glares from my brother.
Finally he gets over the angry-pain (though still in significant pain) and he chokes out, "You've hurt me worse than ANY grown man has ever hurt me." And he coined a new phrase "It hurts worse than a kick in the thumb." It was determined that his thumb was either dislocated or broken.
So of course, me being so compassionate and all, I felt overcome with guilt and cried great tears of remorse. Or not. Okay, the truth is that I laughed......a lot. I DID apologize, but I couldn't help but laugh.
And then I gloated. The next morning at his church I asked if he'd like to thumb wrestle.
He passed.
I'm thinking about offering some sort of body guard service. I figure I'll take 'em down by the thumbs.
And they thought I'd never be more than a weakling....
I showed THEM, Hmmmmmm?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Meet the Parents...
Oh help!
Tomorrow night is "Open House" at our school...which translates to "OH HELP!" I can talk in front of any number of children, but in front of a group of adults is an entirely different thing. I can do it; it's just that I don't necessarily ENJOY it. It would be different, I suppose if I had some humorous or inspirational speech to deliver, but no. I'm going to go over kindergarten procedures, standards, grades, etc. And THAT wouldn't be so bad...but...
It's like this. This classroom designed to accomodate a group of ohhhh...25 kids comfortably (yes you could pack more in)...is suddenly filled with more than a dozen kids...and their 1-2 parents (and sometimes a grandparent or two...or a translating neighbor.) And so we've got lots of people, some of them sitting in chairs designed for five year olds...the rest of them standing around...some of them talking while I'm trying to...people coming in late...and then, my favorite, THE BLANK STARE.
What does the blank stare mean? Are they taken aback at all that kindergarten entails and so they're just "soaking it in?" Are they hearing "blah blah blah blah?" Are they thinking "I could be home watching the Olympics!"? Are they wondering why on earth my shoes are THAT ugly? What does the blank stare mean?
Last week I spent one day in my classroom. The rest of the week we were asked to stay out so the custodians could get some stuff done. This week I've had half a day to work in there...and it was filled with stuff like collecting new textbooks, workbooks, etc. Busy busy busy, but my room doesn't show much improvement for it. In fact it's worse because now I have all those books to put away. TOMORROW the hammer hits the nail, though. The room turns into a child-friendly classroom and somehow I get my brain together to tell the parents "all they need to know."
I don't know what else to say. So.......... THE END. (That was smooth, wasn't it?)
Tomorrow night is "Open House" at our school...which translates to "OH HELP!" I can talk in front of any number of children, but in front of a group of adults is an entirely different thing. I can do it; it's just that I don't necessarily ENJOY it. It would be different, I suppose if I had some humorous or inspirational speech to deliver, but no. I'm going to go over kindergarten procedures, standards, grades, etc. And THAT wouldn't be so bad...but...
It's like this. This classroom designed to accomodate a group of ohhhh...25 kids comfortably (yes you could pack more in)...is suddenly filled with more than a dozen kids...and their 1-2 parents (and sometimes a grandparent or two...or a translating neighbor.) And so we've got lots of people, some of them sitting in chairs designed for five year olds...the rest of them standing around...some of them talking while I'm trying to...people coming in late...and then, my favorite, THE BLANK STARE.
What does the blank stare mean? Are they taken aback at all that kindergarten entails and so they're just "soaking it in?" Are they hearing "blah blah blah blah?" Are they thinking "I could be home watching the Olympics!"? Are they wondering why on earth my shoes are THAT ugly? What does the blank stare mean?
Last week I spent one day in my classroom. The rest of the week we were asked to stay out so the custodians could get some stuff done. This week I've had half a day to work in there...and it was filled with stuff like collecting new textbooks, workbooks, etc. Busy busy busy, but my room doesn't show much improvement for it. In fact it's worse because now I have all those books to put away. TOMORROW the hammer hits the nail, though. The room turns into a child-friendly classroom and somehow I get my brain together to tell the parents "all they need to know."
I don't know what else to say. So.......... THE END. (That was smooth, wasn't it?)
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