Merry Christmas from the Whole Family

In the blink of an eye, life became crazy, and I didn't get out a single Christmas card. I hope this makes up for the loss, my mother's festive card of the whole fam. That is right, the whole family wishing you a Merry Christmas!

The Door Whisperer: A Spooky Story

This is the true account of my brush with danger a few weeks ago. Read at your own discretion.


I will be the first to admit that I have a very active imagination. I will also be the first to admit you do not want to go with me to a haunted house. ( I tend to push, shove, and throw people into the face of danger.) I must also admit, I don't do very well being alone. However, I really do try to be brave, and I was doing just fine living in apartments. I knew my neighbors, there were always people out and about, and there were so many people together. Unfortunately, as soon as I got home from Africa I moved. (Yeah, it was a little crazy.) Fortunately, I moved to a nice new town home. Unfortunately, they are still building a lot of the town homes, and so that means few occupants, dark, vacant buildings, and a roommate who has been gone for the last four weekends. I of course, did what any person with a vivid imagination would do, I went to my brother's house every weekend. That is, I did until someone told me to suck it up and stay by myself. Unfortunately, I don't do well being thought of as a chicken, and so I decided to be brave and stay home. I devised a little plan to keep myself busy until I was so exhausted I would fall asleep. And so, I paid every bill, wrote in my journal, read my journals, organized my photos, read all of my friends' blogs ( they are all so great) and by about three I fell asleep watching T.V. I woke up a little after four, and I knew I was so tired I would sleep like an angel. I turned off the T.V., picked up my pillow, and walked over to the front door to turn off the lights.

(This is the cue for the scary music.) As I reached for the light, I heard a faint sound outside the door, puzzled I learned in closer and that is when I heard a man whispering. (Yes, it is true) It was at that moment that my heart leapt into my throat, I felt like I was in one of my nightmares. ( You know the kind where you can't move and all you feel is horror.) I however, found I could move, and I did. I leaped up the stairs with my heart pounding. I flipped open my phone, "Who to call, who to call?" In terror, I realized that I didn't have one person in my phone who lived remotely close. And so, I took a deep breath and tried to think more rationally. I knew I had a big imagination and so I wondered, "Was I just imagining the door whisperer?" I crept back down the stairs and went to the door again. Holding my breath, I listened again. . . . . Ahhhhhhhhh. . . . . . I heard the voice again, and this time I heard what he said, "There is no peep hole." All thoughts of being rational left me. Anybody who is talking about a peep hole at four in the morning is not rational. I hurriedly dialed my brother, woke him up, told him to stay on the line while I snuck out the back door into the garage, and hopped into my car. I locked the doors and raced out of the garage. As I drove by the front of the house, there was nobody there. Ahhhhhhhh. . . . . .. I was so spooked I couldn't stop my leg from shaking, which was bad because you have to brake when driving. I drove like mad, and then I got mad and decided to turn around and see if someone was really trying to break in. I am all for justice being served, and I had my phone out ready to call the police. (Nobody scares me like that and gets away with it.) Luckily, nothing appeared to be amiss, and so I drove to my brother's house and fell into bed relieved from worry.

(This is perhaps the anticlimactic part) The next day we all went out to the house and checked everything out. It seemed okay. And since then I haven't heard the door whisperer again. However, I have also not stayed home alone again, nor will I ever in the future. I really don't care if people think I am a chicken, nothing is worth having to be home alone and hear the "Door Whisperer."

Tanzania, Tanzania

Here are a few moments of life in Africa:

-Each morning we awoke to the Ramadan call to prayer and the smell of burning trash. (Which they just piled up by the road and burned each day.) Every night began with the slathering on of deet, the pulling on of long sleeved clothing, and the tunneling into our mosquito net for the night. Each night, as I looked up at the ceiling, I gained more appreciation for that net, knowing it not only kept out the mosquitoes, but the spiders, the beetles, and the lizards.

-Each day as we came out of our gate we would see donkeys, cars, goats, Masai on bikes, and women carrying huge buckets on their heads, all sharing the same road.

-I learned to enjoy porridge every morning and rice and beans every lunch and dinner. (Okay, perhaps at the end of three weeks the word enjoy may be a tad bit generous, it is true I actually dreamed about pizza.)

-I learned to teach without a classroom, and then in a room with no desks, no chalkboard, and no books, to children who spoke only a few English words.

-The last few days, I wiped away happy tears at the sound of those children saying English letter names and sounds, colors, numbers and words.

-I found myself screaming in horror as two, fat, killer lizards fell from the ceiling onto the floor in the middle of class. Forgetting all restraint, I ran from the room. Of course, all the children did likewise and tried to calm me down. Call the animal police, but the other teacher killed them as she exclaimed,"The children play with them. They are their friends. They will not hurt you." Friends or not, I did not feel an ounce of sadness. (Do not feel bad for those lizards, they were awful.)

-I discovered that all those random wet spots all over the playground were actually student made bathroom puddles.

-We explored a Chagga bat filled cave, where Nick decided to take a picture of a sleeping bat. I decided to run for my life after it woke up.

-We marveled at the Masai sand and dung insulated huts with live chickens inside.

-We cringed at the gaping holes in the Masais' ears, which according to the Masai preacher, were first started long ago when their herds were far from home, and they would put the new lambs in those holes to help carry them home. It's true, that's what he said.

-We rode what they call the dala dalas. They are old vans that act like buses for the people, since most don't have their own cars. They are however, crazy. There is always a man hanging out of the door scanning the road for anyone who needs a ride. The use of seats is also optional. People sit on the floor, on your lap, or hoover over your head. The dala dala is never too full for more riders.

-We were able to go to a newly formed L.D.S. branch. In a place so different, it was wonderful to find the same peace.

-We heard testimony in one of the U.N. Rwanda criminal tribunal court cases. (Which are still happening, even though it has been over 14 years ago.) It was fascinating, extremely sad that the genocide ever happened, and hopeful that justice will be served.

-I hummed Lion King music throughout our safari, as we saw amazing animals. They were extremely beautiful, okay, some of them were not, (Have you ever seen a wildebeast?) but all were extremely fascinating. I also have never seen such beautiful sunrises and sunsets in my life.

-I found myself falling asleep in the campground to the lullaby sounds of hyenas, lions, and water buffalo, the campground without any fences or gates. Amazingly, I actually slept.

-I learned that things aren't what make us happy.


-This is how my students would say goodbye every day. They would pray, sing about Jesus, shout about how happy they were, and then sing a goodbye song to their teachers. It makes me ask myself the same question each day, "Are you happy?" Humbly, and gratefully I know I can always say, "Yes!"

AFRICA

I'm finally almost 100% back from Africa. (I got home a little over a week ago, but my body has taken a little longer to get back.) Africa was a million different adjectives: amazing, despairing, fascinating, hard, heartwarming, heartbreaking, beautiful, frightful. . . . . . and the list could go on. I went with a nonprofit organization to teach, learn about the culture, and have some free time to explore. However, when I got down there I was truly overwhelmed by the immense need. It was hard because I knew I could not give back parents to all of the orphans, cure all that were sick, feed all that were hungry or give money to all that were in need. Looking around I felt very small and inadequate, however, I was reminded that I had two things that I could give in abundance to all I came into contact with. The first was knowledge. I am a firm believer that knowledge is power. We taught the children, the teachers, and the community. As a pastor we met said, " If you give me money I will cry and thank you, but I would rather you give me knowledge because after the money is gone, the knowledge will still be there."
The second thing I could give was love. My eyes were never dry as the children would run to grab my hand, sit on my lap, brush my hair, and squeeze in to be held. I spent most recesses with my arms around five or six children that didn't want to let go when recess was done. It was heartbreaking to realize that there are not enough hands to rock, hug, and love these little orphans. If only I could have brought them home.
I have truly been humbled and filled with gratitude. Whenever we told people we were from America their eyes would get big and they would cheer, "Oh America, that is our favorite country." We met many children named after American presidents, who have given great aid to the Tanzanian people. What a great country we come from, we are so blessed. It was however, also amazing to see these people who had nothing were so happy and welcoming. What a wonderful people and beautiful country. I would love to go back.

I of course have some delightfully crazy stories about falling lizards, swooping bats, sneaky pickpockets, and prowling lions that I will have to share next time.

THE FUGITIVE

Last weekend was the big family reunion. Every two years we get together with my only first cousins, and we head out to the mountains for a weekend of good old fashioned family fun. We had a fabulous time doing yoga (can't you tell I'm completely relaxed) swimming, rowing in the boat, eating yummy food, playing badminton, and foosball (I accidentally hit the ball into our own goal three times, Crazily, nobody wanted me on their team for the next game.) The best part of course was being together. This reunion may sound like any other family reunion, except for a slight twist, and that twist was . . . . . the fugitive.

You see the first night as we were enjoying a delicious dinner on the deck, we noticed helicopters circling the mountains. My uncle told us there was a fugitive on the loose. While he wasn't a killer, he was a juvenile delinquent who had escaped from a wilderness program in the mountains. They had planes and dogs combing the area. We were warned to lock up our cars and the cabin. I looked back at the mountain, locked the doors and didn't think too much more about it. That is I didn't until two days later, when my mother told me some people had been by again to warn us about the fugitive. They said he was wearing a blue shirt and had brown hair, "Uh, huh." I said distractedly as I helped whip up a salad. However, not two minutes later, I looked up, and who did I see? That's right, the fugitive. There he was walking down the hall with my dad and uncle. Convinced that I was the only one who knew who he really was, I whispered to my mom, "It's the fugitive." And no sooner had I said that, then my dad came bustling into the kitchen and said, "We need to get this kid some food." I nervously whispered again, "It's the fugitive." My brother looked at me and said, "Yeah we know." Completely baffled, I watched as they led the fugitive to the table, had him sit, and started feeding him our food. Personally, I was thinking more along the lines of grabbing him, tying him up and calling the searchers. (I tend to err on the side of caution.) However, if you know my dad, you know he befriends all, and so they set him at the table with food and listened to the fugitive's story. (I shouldn't have worried so much, it's true all the guys were right by him at the table, and my seventh grade cousin gave me a glance of his pocket knife telling me not to worry, he had it covered.)
This is the story that the fugitive told:
At the camp where he was they would take away the kids' shoes each night, so they wouldn't run away. However, this fugitive still ran. In fact he had been running for 6 days, over 35 miles away from the camp, without any shoes. Crazy! He also had been running without any food but a granola bar, beef and cheese stick. He said they almost got him one time, but he climbed a huge fence and jumped. Then he hid in a little cave, so the planes wouldn't see him. He drank water from a nearby stream and took shade in the Aspen trees. At night he slept up on the ridge, and every night below him he would see all of our cabin lights on. He said, "You guys are the loudest people I know, I could hear you all the way up on the ridge." ( It's true we are a tad loud, and when you get over 20 of us playing a game of werewolf, it sounds a lot like real wolves howling at the moon.) And so after 6 days he lost his adrenaline and decided to come down and turn himself in, and what nicer people to turn himself into then the werewolf howlers. He came and knocked on the door, and asked to use the phone. My dad knowing who he was (I guess I wasn't the only one.) told him a lot of people were looking for him, that we would give him something to eat, and call someone.
Now here is where the story turns into a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie, but I promise it is true. The fugitive called his dad and his dad (who had flown across the country and hired his own private investigator to find his son) came to the cabin to get him. His dad knocked at the door and when he saw his boy he held out his arms. The fugitive nervously asked his dad what was going to happen, and his dad took out a picture of his son from his shirt pocket. (I swear I'm not making this up.) Then he said, "I put this picture of you here by my heart while we were searching for you. I just want to love you right now." And the fugitive went over to his father for a hug. Now I'm sure there will be heck to pay later, but I thought it was a perfect ending to the reunion. The message: Your family is there with arms outstretched to love you, even when you aren't at your best. Now isn't that nice? Hallmark you can come get the story rights from me, because this one is a real winner.

The Big Event

The big event of the summer is finally here, I am officially braceless. I didn't think it would ever happen, but I still rotated my ankle during every kid's report, put on my makeup balancing on one leg, and pushed and pulled during every newscast, and I am overjoyed to say it finally paid off. My doctor even released me yesterday with the ability to jog on the treadmill with no brace. Can you believe it? Jog-no brace. I tore home to put on my running shorts (shorts, I could actually wear shorts) and walked into the gym. Amazingly, there was nobody staring or critiquing my fashion. Can life get any better? I guess so, because today I got to choose from any of my shoes, not just my fatty brace shoes, and I could wear anything I wanted. ( I know, I said I was over the fashion thing, but I must admit I have seen way too many episodes of What Not to Wear to know they will get you at your worst moment.) My students clapped and cheered my success this morning, and my foot is feeling great. Yeah!!!!! And so sadly, this concludes the last of my endless posts about my foot. I'm sure it has been fascinating reading, I know it was all I could think about. No worries though, I still have one more surgery to go. (Don't get too excited though, I am not going to write about it, well, unless it is as fascinating as this last experience.)

Fashion

Okay, it's true in the fifth and sixth grade I tight rolled my pants, sported two different colored socks on each foot, and ratted my bangs to enormous heights. However, I had thought my extreme fashion days were over, but apparently thanks to my brace they are not.
One Sunday after church, I ran to a dinner wearing a long gray skirt and black shoes. I thought that this would help camouflage that fabulous brace of mine. It seemed to blend nicely. I guess it blended a little too nicely. I walked into the dinner and a friend said, "Oh, how is your foot?" I smiled and kicked up my leg."It's doing well, I just have the brace now." That's when she said, "Oh my goodness, I didn't even know you were wearing a brace. I just thought you were wearing a boot and a shoe." I would like to add here that she was serious. I'm mean it, she thought I was wearing a dress boot and shoe. Which leads me to ask, how many people do you know who wear one boot and a shoe to a dinner? Is that a new style? And further more, do I look like the type of person who would wear a boot and a shoe out in public or for that matter at home? The rest of the night I was paranoid that everyone was looking at my boot and shoe combo. And so, after that I nixed the blending and tried to make it obvious that I was wearing a brace. Which looked like a big, black brace and a stretched out brown shoe with every fashion ensemble. I just can't seem to win. Therefore, I've decided to just wear what I wear, and if it helps give people a little enjoyment talking about my new fashion statement, then that is the small part of joy I will give to others.

The Art of Walking

It all began with that itchy, hard cast, then I moved to this summery boot (I lovingly call it ten pounder), and as of yesterday I became the proud walker of this sleek, little brace. It's true my days of all night reading, t.v. marathons, and plopping down in exhaustion are coming to an end, and I can't contain my excitement.
I must say however, I am grateful to my crutches for giving me bulging arm muscles, (Can't you see them?) a fabulous handicap sticker, ( it has propelled me to coolest teacher of the school status) and the opportunity to ride in a hip and stylish grocery racer ( those neon, orange flags really whip down the aisles.) Mainly, crutches have made me grateful for not needing them now.
Last week at my doctor's appointment, I was extremely disappointed with my failure to remember how to walk, and then with the pain involved. ( I had a little separation anxiety from my crutches.) My doctor therefore prescribed a couple more days of crutches and putting pressure on my foot. Monday, I began my first day of walking by myself. It was pretty amazing, Yesterday, I went in expecting to get out of the boot in another week or two. However, my doctor had me walk without the boot. ( I was scared out of my wits. ) Then he asked me if I still had my brace. (This brace and I go way back.) When I replied, "Yes." He told me I could wear it. Stunned, I actually started to clap and cheer. The patients in the other rooms could think what they wanted, I could not contain emotion to news like that. Then he gave me more good news, no brace to sleep in. I can not tell you how much happiness this caused my heart. You see the first three weeks in my cast I spent reading until 4 am, then the last two weeks in my boot I have spent ripping open seven Velcro tighteners every couple of hours to let my leg breathe and then strapping them back up and repeating. Last night, heaven.
Today I began my limpy, doo wop walking. I realize with no muscles in my leg, it is a bit dreadful to do and a bit dreadful to watch. ( I think people are afraid I'm going to tip over. ) However, it is me walking by myself, and I know that with each step my walking ability is increasing. (Speed walkers of the world watch out.)

The Truth about Life on Crutches

It's been almost two weeks since my surgery and here are some of the lessons, strategies, and truths I've learned about life on crutches:

1-Whatever you do, don't break the toe on your other foot a few days before surgery. It will hurt like crazy, and make hobbling and hopping around extremely hard and hurtful.

2- Take medicine when it feels like they are still drilling into your ankle. Stop taking medicine when it feels like they are drilling on your head.

3- When you can't take the claustrophobia and itching of your cast any longer, do not lash out on your broken toe wrapping. While it may be liberating, it will hurt like nobody's business.

4- A good way to deal with insomnia is to read. However, a bad thing to read is murder mysteries.

5- Do not stare at people on crutches, they may fall from all of the attention.

6- Where there is a will, there is a way. It may require scooting, crawling, and pulling, but it is possible.

7- Never, ever bring 26 sixth grader's final book projects home to correct. No matter what you thought, you are definitely not going to want to correct them.

8-You may think you are cruising with speed on your crutches until you notice old people passing you by. Remember what your mother always said,"Don't compare yourself with others."

9-"Up with the good, and down with the bad." It's not just a good motto for life, but it sure helps going up and down stairs.

10- It is okay to ask for help, it is okay to receive help, it is okay to need help. (This is one I have to keep repeating to myself.)

11- Patience isn't just for other people, patience is needed for ourselves.

12- Bless my family and friends, without them I would not be surviving.

The next surgery should be in July. Then I will have a better post: The Truth about Life in a Boot and on Crutches.

The Children

The truth is on Monday the kids were stinkers. and even though today was Jump Like a Frog Day, I just couldn't take it and there was no leap frog. And so, I decided I needed to remember why I love the dears so much. Therefore, I've decided to share my favorite lines and moments as of late. Enjoy!

(After learning I lived in an apartment) Oh, I didn't know you were poor, you wear such beautiful clothes.

(After learning that I am going to Africa) Don't do it Miss R, my cousin went to the same place you are talking about and they came up to him, pinched him and said, "You look good enough to eat." And they meant it Miss R, because they are starving, don't go, they will eat you.

(After a lesson on probability) Miss R thanks for teaching us how to gamble, can we bring you to Vegas?

(One dreary, cold winter morning) Miss R can I give you a hug, because Lindsey says you're not a morning person.

(During a game show moment) Wait, we had China but then you said we couldn't have a continent?

(During geography after the question, "What is the line of latitude at zero degrees?") Ecuador!

(On another cold, dreary day.) Miss R I brought my robe to wear today, because I'm not feeling well, and it makes me feel better. (Nothing warms your heart more than a sixth grader in a purple, woolly bathrobe)

(This is one of my favorite heart warmers) Miss R I made you a Mother's Day present, and I know you're not my mom, but at school I feel like you are. Happy Mother's Day!

Miss R a closed mind is a good thing, because an open mind is like open and so it gets out and gets bigger. Uh. . . wait, never mind.

Favorite grammar mistakes from country power points they made:

East meats West

Religion: Some are proteins

Bucharest: It is horrible and smells like guts.

Favorite phrase taped to a child's tote tray : Candy, it is a miracle!

Favorite thing they write on the board: Grammer Edit

I could go on and on with the funny ones, and then forever about all of their brilliant lines. It all comes down to the fact that they are adorable, and since tomorrow is "Chicken Dance Day" you can bet it is going to be great. (And I'm really not making up these holidays, I got them from a holiday website, and if I had the energy and thought process I would somehow have it link to the word website and then you could look at it, but that would require some figuring out, and like I said, it wasn't a leap frog day.)

The Good News and the Bad News

It is official, my brother and I are headed off to Africa. We are going in September for three weeks to volunteer in a village in Tanzania. I really feel grateful that I will be able to teach children there for a short time. I know this will be a great experience of learning and gratitude. That is the good news, the bad news is that after the falling, the aching, and the spraining, I am finally going in for surgery in two weeks. I have come to face the reality of a summer filled with casts, crutches, and three flights of stairs. I have also promised to be optimistic, knowing that in July I will go in for surgery on my other foot. (It's the darn ligaments, they need to be tightened.) However, I really will be grateful for these surgeries, because my doctor said that after them I will be able to run again. And while I may not be running in Africa, I will be jumping for joy! (Cheesy, I know, but appropriate to my feelings)

Cutting a Rug

It is true, I was cutting a rug with the senior citizens at their dance last weekend. It may be kind of hard to imagine my dancing ability and senior citizens, but pretty much we were awesome. My grandma is 91 and when she invited my brother and I down to the dance, I knew I would be getting a good work out in. If you know my grandma you know she is a whirlwind of energy. If you've never been to a senior citizen dance I would highly recommend it. (It really and truly was fun. The people there actually can dance, it was kind of fun to do more than just the old side to side shuffle.) There was even a high school kid who told me he comes every week just to learn to dance better, and I must admit he can dance a mean two step.
The dance started at 8:00 p.m. and as we walked in we were met by this 76 year old woman, who wanted to dance with my brother right away. My grandma put her right in her place, and let her know that he came to the dance with us and would first be dancing with us. Poor kid, he can't help he's a lady killer. We soon got into the groove as the band began to play, " There's a tear in my beer." ( A great oldie that we were all still humming the next day.) The band was really getting into it, and everyone was a twirling and a whirling. I learned some new moves with the two step and waltz and then "ding" 9:00 o'clock hit and everyone stopped and went to the back to sit, visit, and eat snacks. It was then I knew this was my kind of dance. After snacks we danced till 10:00 and then everyone grabbed their coats and headed for the door. (This is also my kind of short, sweet activity.)
The whole weekend was delightful, especially since I have the heart of a small town girl and being back in a small town dancing with good old folks, eating at the soda fountain/variety store, visiting with family, and driving around in the country all bring joy to my small town heart.

The Take Down

When danger comes upon most people they have that fight or flight mechanism, I however, have always had that fall down to the ground and cover your head mechanism. Being the only girl in my family has helped me practice this over and over as my brothers would scare me. Because of this when it came time to sign up for our annual winter class, my friend and I chose self defense. At first, class was pretty easy, blocks, kicks, strikes, identifying target points and getting away from grabs. Good things to remember, not to awkward to do. However, a few classes into the semester we all watched in wonder as our instructor put down mats and then strapped on a huge chest pad, leg and foot pads, and then put on a head guard with a clear visor. "Is he bringing in someone to fight with and show us what to do?" we wondered. Then he called each of us back, one at a time, for the take down. Imagine walking toward imminent danger, while eight other people are watching your every move. You can hear the instructor's voice as you get closer whispering, "You're just walking along minding your own business. . . . . . " and then bam, he grabs you, and you have to use what you have learned to get away from him. Some of you are probably thinking he isn't really that tough, and that he probably lets you get away. Speaking as a young student who hesitated slightly, and then was picked up, thrown to the ground and pinned, I would beg to differ. Pretty much you have to give it your all, or you're a goner. However, knowing that he isn't easing up on you, makes it even more sweet when you get away, and I must say while it scares me to death, I've thrown him twice and there is no better feeling then that.
The most dramatic moment of class came last week as my friend was going to the mats for the take down. We were all watching intently ready to yell suggestions, or encouragement. However, we were soon screaming in terror as our instructor pulled out a gun. Now obviously, it wasn't real, but our instructor is a man of few words and the gun came out of nowhere. Next he took out his fake knife, and somehow I was the lucky victim. (My weak spot and a knife, not a good mixture.) However, it was a really good learning experience. This class has taught me how not to be a victim, and the simple, most effective ways to get out of bad situations. I highly recommend taking a class like this to everyone. Sadly, this week is the last class and somehow I find myself in a nasty ankle brace (slight running accident). However, I figure hurt people get attacked, so maybe I'll still go and just give him a good eye poking.

The Largest Ice Cream Cone in the World, and The Disappearing Mailbox

I just had to share this delightful ice cream picture with everyone. My family was all together last weekend for a baby blessing and my sister-in-law gave my parents this amazing collage of family pictures all compiled into a poster. She sent all of the family photos to the place and guess which one they chose to enlarge and feature in the middle of that poster? That is right, this baby. The ice cream cone and I are now, as we should be, the pinnacle of all attention. And so of course the first comment out of every person who saw it was, "Whoa, somebody was hungry" and "Did you eat it all?" and so on and so on. Sadly, I must confess I did not eat all of this, not even with the help of two other friends. Perhaps one day, okay let's be honest, probably never. After all it is one huge ice cream cone.
The next most important event, after this ice cream picture of course, is the happy fact that I'm off track. I officially went off track last week, however, I spent most of the week in a math conference. Which makes it very unofficially. Truly, there is something heartwarming and hilarious about sixth grade teachers earnestly searching for new ideas on how to teach their students that 9 to the zero power is 1, and how to decompose a circle into wedges to figure out area. I must admit these are memories I cannot describe adequately. And so tomorrow officially begins my off track. I had decided to go on some little trips, but then I realized life has been crazy. I haven't really been home for months and might need to get caught up on what is going on here.
Let me illustrate how this thoughtful conclusion came to me.
Yesterday I went out to get the mail. To my astonishment, the mailboxes were all gone. My mind tried to grapple with how and where the mailboxes had gone, and then sheepishly I wondered how long they had been gone.
Next, I sat down to watch a movie. Just as I got settled in I heard, "drip, drip, drippy, drip." I could only take it so long until I began a battle with the kitchen faucet. In defeat, I looked at my roommate who calmly said this had been going on for a month. Who knew?
Lastly, as I was putting away my laundry, I noticed my favorite pink, sparkly sock. Sock as in one, that has been there for a year in hopes that I would magically find the other one in the laundry one day. Perhaps I need to clean out my closet. And the more I look around, the more I realize there is a lot to catch up on here. Of course the first thing on my list is a walk around the complex, the mailboxes can't have completely disappeared.

The Megatrons and Me

Sorry, my last post may have been a tad grouchy. It's that darn inversion. It gets me every year. However, I am here to tell you that dreams do come true. I was awakened last week to a text at 5am. It stated that the whole district was delayed 2hrs. 2 wonderful, delightful, marvelous hours. It would seem that nothing could top that, and yet the beautiful sun has also been shinning in and out of storms. That has meant snowshoeing and cross country skiing. Yeah! I even got to take my students cross country skiing. Who wouldn't love skiing and plucking kids out of the snow? It is a delight and afterwards, those little darlings said things like, "Our teacher was the only person out there who did not fall. She is a superstar." Gosh, I love those kids.
And so it was with these happy thoughts I headed down to Bryce Canyon to cross country ski with friends. Little did I know it would be different, much different. Saturday morning as we ate breakfast at the lodge, I was lost in my own thoughts about how good life was with the clean air, beautiful sun, and my health returning. Suddenly, my ears perked up to the end of the conversation that had been taking place. "Ok, so who is doing the triathlon?" When those words were said and I saw the faces around the table begin to shake yes, I knew I was in trouble, big trouble. My head began to spin, and I frantically searched every face at the table and realized to my horror that everyone there was a . . . . . "Megatron." This bit of information might fill you with panic too, if you knew what a Megatron was. Basically, it is someone who does everything with megatronical force. (The spell checker is going crazy with these great words.) However, Megatrons don't know they are Megatrons. They think they are regular people. They say they are taking things easy and just having fun, which may be the case for them, but normal people like myself, who are gasping for air, have a hard time believing this. I like the Megatrons and do things with them, however, usually in outdoor activities, I like to make sure the paparazzi are there. The paparazzi are the friends who take pictures of everything and anything. Paparazzi make it possible to pretend like you are interested in their pictures, while really you are simply trying to breathe. However, on this trip I had failed to confirm that the paparazzi were coming. Big mistake.
We got on the trail and I optimistically tried to remember my superstar skiing status. However, these people were like machines. Up the hills, around the bends, through the trees. Push, push, push. I found myself falling behind, and so in my haste I tried to speed up and fell. Which shouldn't have been a problem. Except, we were skiing in the pre-made ski tracks and when I tried to help myself up by pushing my pole into the ground outside of the ruts, it sank down, all the way down, and so did the other pole, my hand, my head, my body, everything. You might say that the snow was pretty deep there. At this point I just started laughing because have you ever tried to get up on skis after falling down without using anything to push off of? It can be a bit of a problem, especially because I knew the Megatrons were so far ahead. However, where there is a will, there is a way, and later, quite a bit later, I got up. Victory!!!! However, this was just a small indication of what was to befall me that day. You might say it was a little bit of a rough day for me. However, in the end I just let the Megatrons go ahead, because the sun was shinning, and the canyon was beautiful and I really was having a wonderful time. And even though I'm not a Megatron, that is ok, because I have been told I am a superstar.

Bad, Bad News

I really am not a complainer, and I hesitate to post this tirade, but I just received news that has sent me over the edge. Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow and you know what that means. Six more weeks of winter are on the horizon. When I shared this news with my roommate, she said, "Yeah, I love winter." For goodness sake, that is what everyone around here says. I am not a hater of winter, truly I love skiing, snowshoeing, and the snow. But enough is enough. This winter has sent storm after vicious storm from gray, inversion skies. This winter instead of roads, we have ice rinks. At least they appear that way. They are all white, and all you do is slide on them. Which wouldn't be so bad if they ever closed things down and you could stay at home, but no. The weather forecaster will say, "Visibility will be nonexistent at times during the morning commute " and so I turn on my little radio with hope in my heart, but alas school is not canceled, nor will it ever be according to my optimistic principal. And so I make the trek which doubles or triples its usual time, and I enjoy my talk radio, as I watch people slide across the freeway, or as I stay in the same spot for an hour waiting for an accident to clear. Once at school, I spend the morning bus duty scooping children out of snowbanks and off of the slick sidewalks where they have fallen. I numbly go into my class where I am greeted with the announcement that it will be an inside day. That means me and the kids all day, no breaks. I really do love them, but they run back from lunch before I come back from getting papers in my box. Then they converge around my desk, eyes peering at every bite I take. Then they comment, "Yum, I love carrots, can I have a carrot? What kind of soup is that? Can I have a taste?" Next they watch like a hawk to see if I have a treat that they can sweet talk me out of. I haven't been able to sneak a treat in a month. If that isn't a good reason for winter to be through, I don't know what is. I also love the wonderful winter sounds in my classroom which go something like this, "Cough, cough, sniffle, cough, sniffle, sniffle, cough." Which inevitably makes me go, Cough, cough, sniffle, cough, sniffle, sniffle, cough. It is a tragedy. I drive home and the turn onto the street before our apartment known as "Suicide turn." Then onto the ice rink of terror where there are no parking spots, only mounds of snow. You just gun it and plow through. Unfortunately, getting out is much more difficult. However, I did see the sun yesterday and it made me cry. Okay, it might have been the fact that I was running in the freezing cold air, but I know spring will be coming sometime and this year I really, really will appreciate it. (Mom, don't worry the roads really aren't as bad as I said, I may have embellished a tad to get my point across.)

The Dog

I tend to have problems with dogs. I think they can sense my fear. I however, have never had a problem with them at church, that is until today. Simply put, I stepped on a seeing eye dog twice today at church. Honestly, this girl's dog is so good and quiet you hardly know that he is there. That is kind of the problem, I just forgot about him, and bam my foot came down on his paw. (Which was a little worse because of my pointy heels.) Needless to say he wasn't so quiet then. Everyone around me soon knew he was there. I mumbled a sorry. The dog did not look happy. I was quite watchful of him for a while, but church is a good bit of time and soon I forgot about him again. Seriously, this dog is silent, and I really think he silently snuck farther under me, because the next thing I know I uncross my leg, bring it down, and bam the dog has been hit again. He jumped up, and that normally calm, loving dog is staring me down. It kind of made me a little nervous. Anyway the last hour of church, I slid completely away from him and his owner. It may have seemed a little anti-social to both of them, but a girls got to do what a girls got to do. Afterward his owner asked me if I was allergic to him. "Oh, no." I replied. "I just have a cold and wanted to lean my head against the wall." Which was true. I however, did not mention the fact that if I hit her dog one more time, I was afraid he would attack me. And although that would have made a better story, bite marks are not very becoming.