I like sending Christmas cards and sending them where they begin to arrive the day after Thanksgiving. Many members of my church say they look forward to receiving them because it "officially starts the Christmas season." (Their words.)
When taking down the Christmas decorations, I like to re-read my Christmas cards. There's such a variety:
Some are very personalized - they include a picture. When I put these away in my photo box, it's always neat to see how the children grow and change from one year to another.
Others depict the sender's personality. For example, my cousin and his wife both have Harleys, so their card was a picture of Santa on a Harley motorcycle. An ex-student and her family raise and show Saddlebreds, so her card pictured Santa upon a Saddlebred, prancing through the snow-covered forest.
We have this one friend who loves to pull pranks. You know the card samples that come in the mail? Last year we got one of those. This year he really put some effort into his cards. He went around the city and picked up the little notes garbage men had left with their customers (you know the ones-little reminders to leave a tip). He scratched out the names of the garbage men and wrote his name. He's really a hoot!
Then I have a student who has always been so thoughtful and goes and picks out a "For My Teacher" card.
The weirdest one this year came from my brother-in-law and his wife. The card and message wasn't weird; it's how they signed it. They didn't put their names; they put "Clay and Jennifer"! It looked like we had sent ourselves a card. (I know people put the names of the people they're sending it to, but doesn't the name usally go at the top, before the message? Anyway, it is the thought that counts!)
And because it is the reason for the season, there are the cards with the religious pictures and message. Personally, I don't send these kinds of cards because the ones I've come across are just so blah looking.
Two messages really stood out this year. One card was so cute, showing a mouse dressed warmly beside a Christmas tree, looking up as the snow fell down from the sky. It's message read, "The fun of Christmas passes all too quickly...(open card) but the joy of Jesus lasts forever. Praying Your Christmas Is Filled With His Joy." The second card showed the three wise men (one of those "blah" pictures) but its message was the best one this year: (open card) "We're not asked to be kings and travel afar, By following leads from a bright, shining star. We're not asked to bring gifts from a storehouse of treasure, We're just asked to love Him, and to love without measure. Merry Christmas"
What a gift a simple card can be.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Moe
In the winter of 1998, Clay and I traveled to Auburn, Alabama, (an hour's drive) to buy a dog. It was our first time ever "buying" one. I don't remember exactly the cost; we either spent $100 or $150, and we wondered if we were going to get our money's worth.
Eight years later, I can look back and say we got a bargin.
Dogs are wonderful, and Moe was one of the best. I remember driving back home with her curled on my lap, and we were trying to figure out names and running through the gamut. While thinking about different T.V. stars, the Three Stooges came to mind, so I called those out. "Moe," Clay said. "I like Moe." However, "Moe" was a girl. "How about her name be 'Mona,' but her nickname be 'Moe'?" Clay agreed, and she was never referred to as "Mona" again.
She loved squeeky toys. She tolerated a lot, but she had no problems fighting if any other dog went after her toy. Clay really didn't want her to have a toy outside because she would carry it around everywhere, but she loved them. Whenever she came inside, she would go to the basket right away and pull out the squirrel squeeky. She was so funny about it - as if no one noticed. It's still there from last night. I haven't put it back in the basket.
I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but if people acted like good dogs, they would be more Christ-like in their actions. Basically, dogs want to be around you, they want to pleae you, they don't worry what you wear or look like, how much money you make, the level of education you've had, the new additions that become part of the family, they'll still want to lick you in the face when they have to be disciplined, and they tolerate pain without complaining. In Moe's case, both her bottom canine teeth had been broken off, her joints were stiff from arthritis from the numerous kicks she's had, and recently she's had to endure the constant attention of our lab-mix, Gus, who, by the way, thinks he is also a blue heeler. Unfortunately, Gus had not figured out that Moe couldn't pay attention to the heels of cows and also play with him, so she also suffered many kicks trying to babysit.
As she got older and her arthritis got worse, she didn't do much field work. She would wait under an oak tree for Clay to bring the cows out of the pature. She was smart; she knew Clay would return and the real work would begin - in the pens.
Certain dogs are bred to do certain jobs. Not letting them fulfill their purpose breaks their spirit a little, I think. We had talked about "retiring" Moe and getting another puppy, but Moe wouldn't work with other dogs. We were afraid that if we got one, she would quit working totally. We couldn't take away from her what she loved.
There are some people who don't believe that their working dogs should be treated as pets. I disagree. Dogs offer too much. If you just tap into one resource they provide, you miss out on so much more.
Moe died tonight. She's buried under that oak tree - ready and waiting, in spirit, to work.
We're going to miss you, Moe-Moe.
Eight years later, I can look back and say we got a bargin.
Dogs are wonderful, and Moe was one of the best. I remember driving back home with her curled on my lap, and we were trying to figure out names and running through the gamut. While thinking about different T.V. stars, the Three Stooges came to mind, so I called those out. "Moe," Clay said. "I like Moe." However, "Moe" was a girl. "How about her name be 'Mona,' but her nickname be 'Moe'?" Clay agreed, and she was never referred to as "Mona" again.
She loved squeeky toys. She tolerated a lot, but she had no problems fighting if any other dog went after her toy. Clay really didn't want her to have a toy outside because she would carry it around everywhere, but she loved them. Whenever she came inside, she would go to the basket right away and pull out the squirrel squeeky. She was so funny about it - as if no one noticed. It's still there from last night. I haven't put it back in the basket.
I don't mean to be sacrilegious, but if people acted like good dogs, they would be more Christ-like in their actions. Basically, dogs want to be around you, they want to pleae you, they don't worry what you wear or look like, how much money you make, the level of education you've had, the new additions that become part of the family, they'll still want to lick you in the face when they have to be disciplined, and they tolerate pain without complaining. In Moe's case, both her bottom canine teeth had been broken off, her joints were stiff from arthritis from the numerous kicks she's had, and recently she's had to endure the constant attention of our lab-mix, Gus, who, by the way, thinks he is also a blue heeler. Unfortunately, Gus had not figured out that Moe couldn't pay attention to the heels of cows and also play with him, so she also suffered many kicks trying to babysit.
As she got older and her arthritis got worse, she didn't do much field work. She would wait under an oak tree for Clay to bring the cows out of the pature. She was smart; she knew Clay would return and the real work would begin - in the pens.
Certain dogs are bred to do certain jobs. Not letting them fulfill their purpose breaks their spirit a little, I think. We had talked about "retiring" Moe and getting another puppy, but Moe wouldn't work with other dogs. We were afraid that if we got one, she would quit working totally. We couldn't take away from her what she loved.
There are some people who don't believe that their working dogs should be treated as pets. I disagree. Dogs offer too much. If you just tap into one resource they provide, you miss out on so much more.
Moe died tonight. She's buried under that oak tree - ready and waiting, in spirit, to work.
We're going to miss you, Moe-Moe.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
My Own Ifs
It's a Saturday afternoon, and instead of the "what it should be" temperature for this time of year, it's in the seventies today. While sitting at the computer, I look out at the lake and its tranquility, but trapped inside is a wasp (with these old windows, wasps are always getting trapped inside) buzzing at the window. His escape back outside is hopeless, but he doesn't give up. Looking at him, my mind starts to wander, and eventually my own list of Ifs are composed...
If people thought about their occupation more than
"It's a job"
If the justice system really worked
If the joy of learning never grew old
If families ate dinner together without
interruption
If no one was trying to make a quick buck
If people really did treat others as they
wanted to be treated
If the word love wasn't overused
If people didn't throw trash out their cars
If a cure for cancer and other diseases was found
If children, the elderly, people in general,
and pets were't abused
If bigotry was eliminated
If everyone could have affordable health care
If we could all die peacefully in our sleep
If we all kept a bit of modesty
If people would think on their own and not be
a victim of mob mentality
If those in power didn't abuse their position
If the words hunger, homeless, poverty, and
destitute were obsolete
If everyone believed in and trusted God
If...
If people thought about their occupation more than
"It's a job"
If the justice system really worked
If the joy of learning never grew old
If families ate dinner together without
interruption
If no one was trying to make a quick buck
If people really did treat others as they
wanted to be treated
If the word love wasn't overused
If people didn't throw trash out their cars
If a cure for cancer and other diseases was found
If children, the elderly, people in general,
and pets were't abused
If bigotry was eliminated
If everyone could have affordable health care
If we could all die peacefully in our sleep
If we all kept a bit of modesty
If people would think on their own and not be
a victim of mob mentality
If those in power didn't abuse their position
If the words hunger, homeless, poverty, and
destitute were obsolete
If everyone believed in and trusted God
If...
Friday, December 15, 2006
Over and Out
Last day before Christmas break. There's got to be something planned; I can only take so many hours of partying. The class times were shorten; just enough time to finish reading A Christmas Carol in seventh grade, the sixth graders recited their poems as did the eighth graders. Chrirstmas lunch, back to homeroom for present exchange, and CLEAN THE ROOM BEFORE ANYONE LEAVES!!!!!!!!
Now it's ready for January 2! But I miss my "snowflakes" hanging from the ceilings along with the lights...
Thursday, December 14, 2006
If
Rudyard Kipling is probably best known for his story The Jungle Book and short story "Riki-Tiki-Tavi"; however, he is also a poet and has a beautiful poem entitled If that I would like to share with you. It's so great that my sixth graders, in groups, have to memorize a stanza and then in their groups recite it as a whole.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with orn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold On!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
When sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
To live by these words - what an achievement!
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with orn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold On!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
When sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
To live by these words - what an achievement!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Coming of Age
When I was a senior in high school, I was a teacher's aide for a lovely woman, and even after fifteen years, we still keep in contact. Several years ago (and after I had graduated from college) she wrote in a letter that I could call her by her first name. I have always thought of her as Mrs. H**, and the whole idea seemed weird to me. Matter of fact, one of my old college classmates, who is about fifteen/twenty years older than I, became really good friends with one of our professors (they are in the same age bracket), and whenever my friend refers to my ex-professor by her first name, I do a quick mental reminder of who the person is. Needless to say, I still call my friend, for whom I was an aide, Mrs. H**.
I guess I'm showing my age because it seems the times are a changing! It's happened to me twice now. I've had two ex-students (who are seniors in college now)call me by my first name. Not that I minded; it just took me by surprise. I had both in ninth grade English, and then one took yearbook, so I had her for three more years. Four years of hearing "Mrs. C**" and now it's "Jennifer."
Weird, but neat, too. They are, afterall, adults now.
Sorry, Mrs. H**. Maybe one day, but not yet.
I guess I'm showing my age because it seems the times are a changing! It's happened to me twice now. I've had two ex-students (who are seniors in college now)call me by my first name. Not that I minded; it just took me by surprise. I had both in ninth grade English, and then one took yearbook, so I had her for three more years. Four years of hearing "Mrs. C**" and now it's "Jennifer."
Weird, but neat, too. They are, afterall, adults now.
Sorry, Mrs. H**. Maybe one day, but not yet.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Controlled Chaos
I like the word chaos; although it's not an onomatopoeic word, it just sounds confusing. I especially like one of the definitions (found in Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary) that states, "A state of things in which chance is supreme." When students ask me if I'll get something graded, I can say, "There's a chance I'll get to it."
I also think the term Controlled Chaos is a fabulous oxymoron. Most people want to believe they're in control when the fact of the matter is that they aren't. Other times it's just plain old procrastination. Finally I just have to break down and admit, "My desk is out of control!!" I can stand clutter for a bit, but then that anal trait (that would be the second definition in Webster's Ninth) kicks in and I have to get things organized.
I think, too, that there are times I work better under stress, but one would think I have enough teaching middle school students. Maybe the sense of "catching up" is more fulfilling than "staying on top of things."
So with that, I'll sign off and get busy grading papers!
I also have a yearbook deadline coming up next week, too. I'm such a glutton for punishment.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Dancing at Funerals
This afternoon I attended a memorial service of a woman I had just met once. She was the mother of one of my sixth graders, who had recently moved to the area from Ireland.
The few funerals I've attended have been rather solemn; a contradiction, in my opinion, of what a funeral should be. As Christians, haven't we been told that Jesus has prepared for us a home? Aren't we told that the spirit will return to God who gave it? Shouldn't we be happy? Of course we're not, because as humans, we tend to be selfish and want our loved ones here with us. I guess it's just our nature.
I've attended one black funeral and left thinking, "Now that's the way it should be!" Granted, it was long, but who cared?
The one I attended today wasn't a black funeral, but it was the second time I left thinking, "Now that's the way it should be!" It was long, too - three hours, but who cared? It was a celebration of life! What I also thought was great was that time was set aside to allow people to come up and speak in memory of this lady. I told the husband I was a bit envious that I didn't get the chance to really know his wife, but I was reminded that since I teach her son, I do know her. At this particular church, they dance, and because this woman just loved this part of the worship service, the husband thought it would be fitting if everyone danced (and his children all agreed). So the song "Spirit in the Sky" came on over the loud speakers, and the church's congregation got up and started to do the Electric Slide. I was right there among them, celebrating a life and celebrating God.
Dancing at a funeral. Whoever would have thought.......I want people to dance at mine, too, and celebrate!
The few funerals I've attended have been rather solemn; a contradiction, in my opinion, of what a funeral should be. As Christians, haven't we been told that Jesus has prepared for us a home? Aren't we told that the spirit will return to God who gave it? Shouldn't we be happy? Of course we're not, because as humans, we tend to be selfish and want our loved ones here with us. I guess it's just our nature.
I've attended one black funeral and left thinking, "Now that's the way it should be!" Granted, it was long, but who cared?
The one I attended today wasn't a black funeral, but it was the second time I left thinking, "Now that's the way it should be!" It was long, too - three hours, but who cared? It was a celebration of life! What I also thought was great was that time was set aside to allow people to come up and speak in memory of this lady. I told the husband I was a bit envious that I didn't get the chance to really know his wife, but I was reminded that since I teach her son, I do know her. At this particular church, they dance, and because this woman just loved this part of the worship service, the husband thought it would be fitting if everyone danced (and his children all agreed). So the song "Spirit in the Sky" came on over the loud speakers, and the church's congregation got up and started to do the Electric Slide. I was right there among them, celebrating a life and celebrating God.
Dancing at a funeral. Whoever would have thought.......I want people to dance at mine, too, and celebrate!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Thanks-Living
I like Thanksgiving. I like being around family, the smells, the food, and watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and seeing Santa bringing up the rear and bringing in the Christmas season. There's not really a build up nor a "well that's over" feeling afterwards either. It's a day we celebrate that the pilgrims didn't starve to death. (How the Europeans treated the Native Americans after they were settled - I'm sure the Native Americans wished their ancestors left the pilgrims to sink or swim on their own, but I digress...)
Anyway, this Thanksgiving, I was reminded that we should be more aware of our blessings everyday, and that we should have a "Thanks-Living" way of life with an "Attitude of Gratitude." Everyday I thank God for His blessings and ask Him to forgive me for taking so many for granted. It reminds me of a story of a man who was stranded on his roof during a flood. He asked God to save him. His neighbor came by in a little row boat, and the man said, "No, you go on. God is going to save me." Later the Coast Guard came by, and the man said, "No, you go rescue some others; God's taking care of me. Finally, as the water is lapping at his roof gutters, a helicopter flies over, but the man yells, "No thanks! God will take care of me!" Finally the flood waters envelope the man and he drowns. When he gets to heaven, he asks God, "God, I asked you to save me! What happened?" God replied, "I sent your neighbor, the Coast Guard, and a helicopter! What more did you want?!?"
Often in the day to day living, we forget about the little things that have been given to us. I asked my sixth graders to jot down some blessings, and while they wrote, I did, too. Here's some of mine: hummingbirds; watching a thunderstorm move in; taking a nap; playing four-square; the smell of brownies cooking; the smell of a horse barn; a good foot massage; my bird "kissing" me; Christmas carols; windchimes; Christmas tree lights; the first buds of spring; the coolness of an old barn on a summer day; a baby's laughter; watching a good movie with buttered popcorn, Milk Duds, and a Coke; finding seashells; the wind at the beach; roasting marshmellows over a fireplace; all my students' essays graded; the first and last day of school; the look of understanding; when our hand-bell choir is "with it"; and reading a book while soaking in the tub.
This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
When God Answers Prayers
As the spring of 2006 was heating up and I was beginning to walk again, I was worried about my walking partner, my Lhaso Apso, who would soon be turning twelve. Here I am, 5'8", making pretty good strides, and my little dog doing her best to keep up. Georgia's summer heat, even in the early morning or late evening, can be quite stifling.
You may think, "Leave your dog at home," but she's used to walking with me, and she seems to know my schedule-when I'm putting on shoes to go to work, or when I'm putting on tennis shoes to go walking. Anyway, she likes to go walking, and it makes me sad to make her stay inside, especially since she's been there all day.
Well, one evening I did. It was just too muggy, so I was off by myself. BORING!! Yes, I had my iPod with me, but I missed my companion.
My shepherd mix had died the previous December, and I was tossing around the idea of getting another German shepherd. I wanted a big dog, and one that would walk with me.
God answered my prayer, but I didn't recognize it at first. At the beginning of summer break, my husband came home and told me his help had found a puppy out in the pasture being chased by the cows. I told him to bring it to the house, and into our lives entered Gus. He was about ten weeks old, scared, but happy, and do I mean happy, to be with people and other animals. I wondered if he could keep up with me, being just a baby. My little dog didn't seem to mind either, as long as he wasn't trying to lick her in the face.
He hasn't stopped since-keeping up with me and trying to lick my little dog's face.
I've tried to wear him out. He reminds me of a child who doesn't want to go to bed at night, afraid that he'll miss something. That's Gus. I've traveled in a Gator, up and down the driveway (one way is half a mile), through pastures, everywhere, and there he is, running with his tongue lolling out, but with an expression of complete joy.
He's a hyper son-of-a-gun. More hyper than I have ever handled (and I've had lots of dogs in my life). After one tedious day, I asked myself why we always get stuck with drop-offs and strays.
That evening, while I was walking, God reminded me that I asked for him.
I watch Gus run, and I smile. He makes my spirit happy.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Fall's Bounty
I've always had a hard time deciding which is my favorite season. Is it spring, when the earth wakes up and showers us with color, or is it fall, when she grows tired and readies herself for bed? I am ready for spring; I get tired of the grayness of winter, but I'm also ready for fall since I also get tired of the South's heat and humidity.
Both spring and fall offer a symphony of colors, but fall is the time for pecans!
The air cools and I start to look at my pecan trees. Will it be a good harvest year? Was there enough rain and sunshine this year? This summer my favorite pecan tree was destroyed in a summer storm (their branches are really weak!), and I wondered where I would find another favorite. I didn't have to look far. Up the pathway stands two wonderful trees that I have overlooked for the past nine years. I don't know why...I walk by that section quite often. But one day, as I was waiting for my husband to come get me so we could go scout other locations, I looked on the ground and spied clumps of pecans, just waiting to be picked!
Now that the leaves have blanketed the ground, finding them reminds me of egg hunts during Easter. Only now I have slide my feet along, moving the leaves as I go.
Seventy-three pounds later, my new-found favorites are still producing!
I can't wait to toast some!
Monday, November 06, 2006
The Need to Vent
I think venting is healthy. The emotions don't stay bottled, eating away at you.
I need to vent - online.
I accepted the challenge of being the director for the One-Act Play, another cut-throat competition where our young adults are judged. Unfortunately for the students, I hate to lose; I'm very competitive, so that also makes me very demanding when I'm put in this kind of position. Fortunately for me, my cast was ready to meet my demands, and we were ready for Region. A bit exciting and stressful, I might add, because I have no theater training!
How is it that two judges rate me second best (good enough to move on to State), but one judge ranks me fifth?!?
These students were good, and they knew they were good. They even said, "Last year we deserved seventh place (last) because we were horrible, but this year..."
I can't even give them a reason. I'm still dumbfounded myself.
At our Awards Ceremony we have at the end of the year, I'm giving them trophies. Engraved will be three words that speak volumes, "We Were Robbed!"
By the way, I'm taking the challenge again next year. I'll retire when I get to State!
I need to vent - online.
I accepted the challenge of being the director for the One-Act Play, another cut-throat competition where our young adults are judged. Unfortunately for the students, I hate to lose; I'm very competitive, so that also makes me very demanding when I'm put in this kind of position. Fortunately for me, my cast was ready to meet my demands, and we were ready for Region. A bit exciting and stressful, I might add, because I have no theater training!
How is it that two judges rate me second best (good enough to move on to State), but one judge ranks me fifth?!?
These students were good, and they knew they were good. They even said, "Last year we deserved seventh place (last) because we were horrible, but this year..."
I can't even give them a reason. I'm still dumbfounded myself.
At our Awards Ceremony we have at the end of the year, I'm giving them trophies. Engraved will be three words that speak volumes, "We Were Robbed!"
By the way, I'm taking the challenge again next year. I'll retire when I get to State!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Spellbound
I've never really understood people who don't like to read, even children and teens today. To have a rainy day outside, snuggled on the couch with a good book (in the winter time with a fire is even better), what more is there to want?
This past summer a friend asked if I would be interested in joining a book club. I jumped at the chance. Since both our husbands rope three times a week, we wanted some sort of "club thing." Our first meeting, to pick books, was attended by six people. Our second meeting had twelve! Since no one had been in a book club before, it was a little like the blind leading the blind, but we all had a good time and were ready for our next "assignment."
Also at our second meeting we decided we needed a name. Book Babes and Literary Ladies sounded lame, but when one member said, "Oh, you'll probably think this is corny...Spellbound," that's what we were indeed, and hence, we had a name!
Another reason why I'm grateful for this club is that it gets me reading during the school year. Usually, I don't have time (or so that's the excuse I made), but now I'm making time. And why shouldn't we make time for activities that we enjoy? Also, being in a book club has gotten me out of my preference rut. I'm exploring new areas that I would have overlooked before and missed a great read!
Big Stone Gap by Adriana Trigiani and Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen are the two we've read so far, and I recommend both, especially Gruen's.
Enjoy! May you become Spellbound, too!
This past summer a friend asked if I would be interested in joining a book club. I jumped at the chance. Since both our husbands rope three times a week, we wanted some sort of "club thing." Our first meeting, to pick books, was attended by six people. Our second meeting had twelve! Since no one had been in a book club before, it was a little like the blind leading the blind, but we all had a good time and were ready for our next "assignment."
Also at our second meeting we decided we needed a name. Book Babes and Literary Ladies sounded lame, but when one member said, "Oh, you'll probably think this is corny...Spellbound," that's what we were indeed, and hence, we had a name!
Another reason why I'm grateful for this club is that it gets me reading during the school year. Usually, I don't have time (or so that's the excuse I made), but now I'm making time. And why shouldn't we make time for activities that we enjoy? Also, being in a book club has gotten me out of my preference rut. I'm exploring new areas that I would have overlooked before and missed a great read!
Big Stone Gap by Adriana Trigiani and Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen are the two we've read so far, and I recommend both, especially Gruen's.
Enjoy! May you become Spellbound, too!
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Playboy and Body Image
I've started Weight Watchers for the third time now. I was sitting on the bed and happened to glance over and caught a reflection of myself in the mirror. I looked like a frumpy toad. I said, "Okay, here we go again."
I like Weight Watchers because nothing is off limits. I just have to decide if I REALLY want it (points and all), and when I'm in the right mind-set, I do quite well. Matter of fact, the first time I joined, I was within eleven pounds of my goal weight. I thought I could do it myself, but I guess having to go in and have someone else know my weight is my big motivator. Whatever works. This is my third week. They (haven't figured out who "they" are yet) say that something becomes a habit after twenty-one days. I disagree. I give up biting my nails for Lent, but...I've been on Weight Watchers now for twenty-one days and I would still rather have a Krispy Kreme doughnut instead of an apple...
But sometimes I want to take the easy road out and blame my weight issues on my dad. He's been a subscriber to Playboy for most of my life (a little detour when he married the evil witch - but that's a whole other blogg). I think from a very early age, I was wrongly influenced about body image. Whenever my dad's magazine came in, I would always find the centerfold and look at her body measurements, thinking that was the way I needed to look. I must confess that MANY "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" exercises were in vain. Weird how I ab-so-lutely LOVED Barbie, but I never wanted to have her body. Also weird how good ol' Marilyn Monroe was in Playboy, and she was no size 2!!
I often hear the question, "Would you rather have beauty or brains?" I want brains, but I don't want to be compared to a slug either. Face it - it's all about confidence. If you want to wear that lycra, butt-hugging leopard print, you go, girl!
I like Weight Watchers because nothing is off limits. I just have to decide if I REALLY want it (points and all), and when I'm in the right mind-set, I do quite well. Matter of fact, the first time I joined, I was within eleven pounds of my goal weight. I thought I could do it myself, but I guess having to go in and have someone else know my weight is my big motivator. Whatever works. This is my third week. They (haven't figured out who "they" are yet) say that something becomes a habit after twenty-one days. I disagree. I give up biting my nails for Lent, but...I've been on Weight Watchers now for twenty-one days and I would still rather have a Krispy Kreme doughnut instead of an apple...
But sometimes I want to take the easy road out and blame my weight issues on my dad. He's been a subscriber to Playboy for most of my life (a little detour when he married the evil witch - but that's a whole other blogg). I think from a very early age, I was wrongly influenced about body image. Whenever my dad's magazine came in, I would always find the centerfold and look at her body measurements, thinking that was the way I needed to look. I must confess that MANY "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" exercises were in vain. Weird how I ab-so-lutely LOVED Barbie, but I never wanted to have her body. Also weird how good ol' Marilyn Monroe was in Playboy, and she was no size 2!!
I often hear the question, "Would you rather have beauty or brains?" I want brains, but I don't want to be compared to a slug either. Face it - it's all about confidence. If you want to wear that lycra, butt-hugging leopard print, you go, girl!
Monday, October 16, 2006
Coping with Death
Yesterday during Sunday school we found out that one of our elderly members died. It's so odd how, in the elderly especially, a hip fracture seems to be the beginning of the end. My own great-aunt's demise was the same.
I find that to console myself, I turn to John Donne's Holy Sonnet #10. I don't think anything better can be said. I know I want this beautiful piece of verse to be read at my funeral...
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Death is conquered and we are at peace with God in heaven. What more is there?
I find that to console myself, I turn to John Donne's Holy Sonnet #10. I don't think anything better can be said. I know I want this beautiful piece of verse to be read at my funeral...
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Death is conquered and we are at peace with God in heaven. What more is there?
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Giving Generously
I am a member of a handbell choir. It's relatively new (one year), and even though I have forgotten how to read music (but I was once a second-chair clarinet player, I really enjoy it. I mark my notes (I'm the A and B bass notes) and manage to effectively play all the measures during rehearsal, only goofing a few during an actual performance. But I digress...
Over a month ago after bell practice, one lady informed all of us that we were hosting a wedding reception. One of our recently graduating seniors was getting married. After the "whose buying what" was finalized, I agreed to the cheese, grape, and cracker plates. After paying $33 for the cheese alone, the week before I was instructed to "cut the grapes into small bundles." Afterall, it would be easier to pick up a small bundle rather than pull grapes off a stem. So that Saturday morning, while I was snipping way, I became a little snippy myself. In addition to the food items, I had also bought a $40 gift card. Here I was, taking my preciously anticipated time off to "snip grapes into bundles" to decoratively arrange with the three different kinds of cheese cubes and crackers for a young girl who didn't know me from Adam. The boy, who was a member of the church, had barely ever spoken to me. The more I thought about it, the more indignant I became. Why do I do these things? Why do I agree to do things that I don't want to do? Simple, I don't want to look like a heel. So while I was on the phone with my mother and acting like a P.A.M. (pissing and moaning), it occurred to me I was in the same boat in 1984. For my wedding reception, friends of my soon-to-be-in-laws where helping cook the pig for the barbecue, preparing the side dishes, and everything else that goes into a Texas barbecue. I didn't know them from Adam either, and they only knew me as their friend's son's fiance, but they did it because they were generous.
Eating crow is like eating Brussels sprouts...We don't like to eat it, but every once in awhile it's good for us.
I went to a meeting this morning ADAMANT that I wasn't going to leave as the president for the 2007 year. Guess what, I'm president. It's true. I looked around at the women there (I'm the youngest at 42 - most are either pushing 70 or are on their way to 80) and I thought, "The younger crew has got to step up." We forget (or don't want to remember) that these people are not going to be around forever. So after some adjustments were made, I agreed to the job, and the secretary, who also came in with the attitude that she wasn't going to be secretary, agreed to the position for next year. And, of course, after it was decided, all the ladies told me to call on them if I needed help. Maybe it's just having the title that turns them off, but I know I can delegate away and they'll oblige without hesitation because they have the right spirit of giving.
Having them supporting me and being wonderful role models, I know I will have no problems. I just have to remember not to spread myself too thin. I'd rather do a few things well than many things poorly. I also have to remember that when I volunteer to do something, I have to do it for the right reason - because it makes my spirit happy.
Over a month ago after bell practice, one lady informed all of us that we were hosting a wedding reception. One of our recently graduating seniors was getting married. After the "whose buying what" was finalized, I agreed to the cheese, grape, and cracker plates. After paying $33 for the cheese alone, the week before I was instructed to "cut the grapes into small bundles." Afterall, it would be easier to pick up a small bundle rather than pull grapes off a stem. So that Saturday morning, while I was snipping way, I became a little snippy myself. In addition to the food items, I had also bought a $40 gift card. Here I was, taking my preciously anticipated time off to "snip grapes into bundles" to decoratively arrange with the three different kinds of cheese cubes and crackers for a young girl who didn't know me from Adam. The boy, who was a member of the church, had barely ever spoken to me. The more I thought about it, the more indignant I became. Why do I do these things? Why do I agree to do things that I don't want to do? Simple, I don't want to look like a heel. So while I was on the phone with my mother and acting like a P.A.M. (pissing and moaning), it occurred to me I was in the same boat in 1984. For my wedding reception, friends of my soon-to-be-in-laws where helping cook the pig for the barbecue, preparing the side dishes, and everything else that goes into a Texas barbecue. I didn't know them from Adam either, and they only knew me as their friend's son's fiance, but they did it because they were generous.
Eating crow is like eating Brussels sprouts...We don't like to eat it, but every once in awhile it's good for us.
I went to a meeting this morning ADAMANT that I wasn't going to leave as the president for the 2007 year. Guess what, I'm president. It's true. I looked around at the women there (I'm the youngest at 42 - most are either pushing 70 or are on their way to 80) and I thought, "The younger crew has got to step up." We forget (or don't want to remember) that these people are not going to be around forever. So after some adjustments were made, I agreed to the job, and the secretary, who also came in with the attitude that she wasn't going to be secretary, agreed to the position for next year. And, of course, after it was decided, all the ladies told me to call on them if I needed help. Maybe it's just having the title that turns them off, but I know I can delegate away and they'll oblige without hesitation because they have the right spirit of giving.
Having them supporting me and being wonderful role models, I know I will have no problems. I just have to remember not to spread myself too thin. I'd rather do a few things well than many things poorly. I also have to remember that when I volunteer to do something, I have to do it for the right reason - because it makes my spirit happy.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
What did Christopher Columbus REALLY discover?
Remember the sing-songy verse you learned in elementary school: "In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue"? And then, of course, the ships were named: The Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria.
When I was younger, I thought it was great thing what Columbus did; afterall, without him, I wouldn't be in this great land.
Or would I?
Now it's more, We're celebrating someone getting lost.
How can one discover what isn't lost? People were on this land doing quite well, thank you very much. So then I thought about the word discover and flipped open Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary to see what synonyms accompanied the word. I found that discover also means expose - "to make known." That's more like it; he made known that there was land that other people had already known existed.
I think of my European ancestors, and sometimes they sadden me. It seems wherever they ventured, they exploited it. Too bad the Native Americans didn't have the means like Japan did when they reclosed their ports to Western traders in the seventeenth century, remaining, basically, in isolation until the 1850s. What would this land be today if Columbus was met with a bit more resistance? But Native Americans felt they didn't own the land; who were they to turn someone away...
I heard someone once say that in the grand scheme of things, America was "discovered" to later (being now) to help Israel. I have to think about that some more...Do more Jews reside in America than any other place?
So, on those trips when your spouse won't stop and ask directions, let him go. Who knows what fantastic "discovery" you'll find! Just don't mislabel the people you meet.
When I was younger, I thought it was great thing what Columbus did; afterall, without him, I wouldn't be in this great land.
Or would I?
Now it's more, We're celebrating someone getting lost.
How can one discover what isn't lost? People were on this land doing quite well, thank you very much. So then I thought about the word discover and flipped open Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary to see what synonyms accompanied the word. I found that discover also means expose - "to make known." That's more like it; he made known that there was land that other people had already known existed.
I think of my European ancestors, and sometimes they sadden me. It seems wherever they ventured, they exploited it. Too bad the Native Americans didn't have the means like Japan did when they reclosed their ports to Western traders in the seventeenth century, remaining, basically, in isolation until the 1850s. What would this land be today if Columbus was met with a bit more resistance? But Native Americans felt they didn't own the land; who were they to turn someone away...
I heard someone once say that in the grand scheme of things, America was "discovered" to later (being now) to help Israel. I have to think about that some more...Do more Jews reside in America than any other place?
So, on those trips when your spouse won't stop and ask directions, let him go. Who knows what fantastic "discovery" you'll find! Just don't mislabel the people you meet.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
What's in a Name?
In Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Juliet posed that question. So when I had learned of my cousin's blog, I thought, "How neat! A journal for the world to read." I thought her title, Flourishingmother, was fitting for her, but when I started pondering my own "identity," and the impact I'm sure it would have, I then thought, "What am I doing?" I'm sure others have thought the same. One time I almost entered some of my poems in a contest - a bunch of rambling thoughts, but I liked them. I had to collect ten of them and name my collection. I chose Snow Is on the Screen and Static Is the Sound. (It's that channel you have on your T.V. that's not quite within range. You can see the picture and hear the dialogue, but...)
I like that idea and what it can imply. At times my writing will make perfect sense (whether you agree or disagree), and other times you'll think, "What?"
So, what's in a name? Whatever you want to get out of it.
I like that idea and what it can imply. At times my writing will make perfect sense (whether you agree or disagree), and other times you'll think, "What?"
So, what's in a name? Whatever you want to get out of it.
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