So as to not confuse, let me explain the redundancy of this blog and the last I posted. I wrote this blog before I realized that I had written "Leapin' Lizzards" previously and had failed to post it. Didn't want to go to the trouble of rewriting either one or combining the information. I guess these two blogs serve as perspective pieces: two blogs covering the same topic but about 7 months apart.
It has been so long since I have graced this blog with my presence. Truly, I can't begin to play catch-up with all that has happened with me since my last entry.
Nutshell Update: The girls and I moved to Round Rock on August 11, 2007. This will be journaled as the only moving expense I incurred was a purchase of Sonic for lunch for my magnificent family members who came to move us! It was a family affair...tears rush to my eyes just thinking of support I felt that day. My family swooped in and made a sure dreadful day one of the brightest memories of my life. Two days later I began my most fulfilling job to date. The girls and I have made our nest and feel more and more "at home" here each day.
Now that we have regained our bearings....
Gabbie, cute as ever, is rounding the corner to Kindergarten Graduation! My itty-bitty baby is 6! Sweet thing struggles only with figuring out what behaviors befit a Princess at the moment. I am glad to report that she has become less interested in marrying and more interested in college (yes, I did say 6 years old! Never too young to set priorities!)
Maggie, growing more mature and sassy, will be in 3rd grade next year and is nervous to begin at a new school. Poor thing is forced to change schools due to the combination of a new elementary and new district attendance lines drawn this year. Maggie hasn't changed much since the move. She still makes lists for everything, and we are now required to sign in and out of her room upon each entry and exit of said property. I must say parenting her is intimidating! I don't get it!! List of what? to keep up with, huh? sign what for what? She's even began forging my name on her reading log due to my untimely, sporadic, random ways! But she does show me my forged name on this document, because she must want to be exact and just! She still reminds me when she has punishment coming that I have obviously forgotten about (although, shame on her, she did wait two days before reminding me of a promised spanking recently.) Amy gets a real thrill from these familiar tales as she too was an anal, crazy child! We are still working on subduing the freak-outs in effort to avoid future necessity for frequent stays in a padded room donning little more than an institution issued straight-jacket.
God continues to bless us each day beyond any expectation or fathomable measure! He has placed me in a place where I have purpose and am able to use my natural strenghts to help these kiddos he has placed me with. Jerimiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." has always been my favorite verse in the Bible, but I never really felt prosperous before. I always thought prosperous meant having worldly wealth and riches and that God wants to bless us financially if we follow His word and have faith in his love and meaning for our lives. Now I know what it is to prosper. Prosper is to be built by God into the person he intends us to be with the gifts and strenghts he allows us through tough times and learning experiences. I feel prosperous teaching my sweet kiddos. I am useful and supported. He has surrounded me with fabulous Christian co-workers and friends that have a common purpose and sense of duty to God's struggling babies in our community. I have been inspired and renewed in spirit by the teachers I have become close to. In all of our humanness, God uses us and finds value in the worthless beings we are, shining a great beacon of light on the tiniest speck of gold in our otherwise filthy lives. He is leading me to do the same, to find the value in those around me that seem petty and horribly short-sighted, to, as my Dado would say, focus on people's good faults.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Leapin' Lizards!
I just found a draft that I never published. According to the edit history, I wrote the following blog on 10/11/07. I do not remember writing it, but it does sound like me and it is true!
I have a lot to catch up on, since I've not written in a while. I have, as I spoke of before, "taken the plunge" and have thus far found the experience exhilerating and exhausting. I promise that "exhausting" is the most negative word you'll read in this blog, for this blog is of a resurrected spirit, life, joy and happiness of un femme en seul. (It's crazy to me that my limited French that I learned in high school between 1988 and 1990 still comes in waves of phrases while I write.)
After one day of interviewing in the Round Rock area, I was offered a job at a middle school in the area. My school is awesome, although to the uninvolved by-stander it may seem a little daunting and dangerous. If one only judged the school from the numbers and statistics of the students we encounter, one would rapidly dart the other way. However, I have found such the opposite experience here. The students are genuine and have no better place to be. Who knew this would be the recipe for the most teachable, interesting students?
The school is very old and has a rich sense of tradition. The kids accept "the way things are" simply because it is the expectation, always has been, always will be. Even though I've had the occasional behavioral issue with a select few, I have experienced true satisfaction working with these amazing kiddos. I love each one of them. The students and the faculty here have a sense of community, responsibility, and accountability for one another that is, according to my knowledge and experience in the educational realm, unparalleled.
Previously, I had blogged on my feelings of the failing educational system in America. I know that my views have not changed on subjects previously discussed; I have, however, now found a school that is accomplishing more than I ever believed any public school could.
The difference can be contributed to the fact that we have kiddos coming from homes where the parents are working sometimes two and three jobs each and still are able to barely provide for their families. These parents are unable to be very involved with homework and extracurricular activities, but most are adamant about their children receiving an education and expect their children to perform with the same work ethic and drive in which they approach their jobs.
I have, in one six weeks period, had more meaningful and productful moments than I ever had during my whole first four years of teaching.
Successful public education. Who'd a thunk it?
I have a lot to catch up on, since I've not written in a while. I have, as I spoke of before, "taken the plunge" and have thus far found the experience exhilerating and exhausting. I promise that "exhausting" is the most negative word you'll read in this blog, for this blog is of a resurrected spirit, life, joy and happiness of un femme en seul. (It's crazy to me that my limited French that I learned in high school between 1988 and 1990 still comes in waves of phrases while I write.)
After one day of interviewing in the Round Rock area, I was offered a job at a middle school in the area. My school is awesome, although to the uninvolved by-stander it may seem a little daunting and dangerous. If one only judged the school from the numbers and statistics of the students we encounter, one would rapidly dart the other way. However, I have found such the opposite experience here. The students are genuine and have no better place to be. Who knew this would be the recipe for the most teachable, interesting students?
The school is very old and has a rich sense of tradition. The kids accept "the way things are" simply because it is the expectation, always has been, always will be. Even though I've had the occasional behavioral issue with a select few, I have experienced true satisfaction working with these amazing kiddos. I love each one of them. The students and the faculty here have a sense of community, responsibility, and accountability for one another that is, according to my knowledge and experience in the educational realm, unparalleled.
Previously, I had blogged on my feelings of the failing educational system in America. I know that my views have not changed on subjects previously discussed; I have, however, now found a school that is accomplishing more than I ever believed any public school could.
The difference can be contributed to the fact that we have kiddos coming from homes where the parents are working sometimes two and three jobs each and still are able to barely provide for their families. These parents are unable to be very involved with homework and extracurricular activities, but most are adamant about their children receiving an education and expect their children to perform with the same work ethic and drive in which they approach their jobs.
I have, in one six weeks period, had more meaningful and productful moments than I ever had during my whole first four years of teaching.
Successful public education. Who'd a thunk it?
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Straight from the Mouth of Mensa!
My baby sister is a member of Mensa...for those unfamiliar with Mensa...tis for smarties. Those with unusually high IQs (I think like the top 2% IQs of the world) may belong to this group. This I can tell you, you want to learn a thing or two, speak to one of these folks, but don't expect to follow all the logic and intellect of a Mensan.
Just this evening when pondering how many pecks are in bushel, I learned that most weird things come in 20s and 40s...a concept I won't pretend to comprehend...after learning that there are 4 pecks in a bushel, I learned that both 20 and 40 are multiples of and are divisible by 4. This is only one logical life lesson I have learned from the wealth of knowledge that is my baby sister.
Examples of the above concept: fortnight, four score, and my baby sister. (All weird things that come in 40s or 20s.)
Just this evening when pondering how many pecks are in bushel, I learned that most weird things come in 20s and 40s...a concept I won't pretend to comprehend...after learning that there are 4 pecks in a bushel, I learned that both 20 and 40 are multiples of and are divisible by 4. This is only one logical life lesson I have learned from the wealth of knowledge that is my baby sister.
Examples of the above concept: fortnight, four score, and my baby sister. (All weird things that come in 40s or 20s.)
Two Cents...Making Change!
Introspection stinks. I know it is supposed to be mature and sensible to, every now and then, stop and focus on self, but in my world, self looked inward, cringed, threw-up a little in its mouth, and looked back to its outward, wonderfully distracting surroundings. Self went searching, and self ain't buyin'.
Yuck! Is it supposed to be depressing and physically ailing to look inward to evaluate personal areas that are currently lacking, areas that could use a little sprucing up? My discovery isn't new to me; I guess you would call it a re-discovery. I find that I am incredibly opinionated and that I, quite frankly, ALWAYS think I am right. Is this not something I will outgrow? At my age, I am starting to think that I may have to actually face the music, buck up, and consiously work at changing this incredibly annoying trait.
Now, note to self, I do not think these traits weaknesses, but I do think I need to grab ahold of the reigns and gain control of them. I'm sure anyone who knows me even just a little would say...I frequently offer my two cents whether it is welcome or not. And of course, my two cents is genuine mint.
I am hereby challenging myself to begin to conciously "hold my tongue." When the urge to blab my unwanted opinion, thoughts or feelings arises, I'll say nothing. In love, I will tell myself, "You are lovely, sweet and kind...now, SHUT UP! Think what you will, but unless you are offered the opportunity to share...STUFF IT! But...well....if the person is wrong, or is being absolutely foolish, or is an idiot...well, then...fine....LET THEM HAVE IT!"
Oh, it is useless, this will never change...I am who I am. I mean really, if I changed this about me, what would I do to balance out all my good faults?
Yuck! Is it supposed to be depressing and physically ailing to look inward to evaluate personal areas that are currently lacking, areas that could use a little sprucing up? My discovery isn't new to me; I guess you would call it a re-discovery. I find that I am incredibly opinionated and that I, quite frankly, ALWAYS think I am right. Is this not something I will outgrow? At my age, I am starting to think that I may have to actually face the music, buck up, and consiously work at changing this incredibly annoying trait.
Now, note to self, I do not think these traits weaknesses, but I do think I need to grab ahold of the reigns and gain control of them. I'm sure anyone who knows me even just a little would say...I frequently offer my two cents whether it is welcome or not. And of course, my two cents is genuine mint.
I am hereby challenging myself to begin to conciously "hold my tongue." When the urge to blab my unwanted opinion, thoughts or feelings arises, I'll say nothing. In love, I will tell myself, "You are lovely, sweet and kind...now, SHUT UP! Think what you will, but unless you are offered the opportunity to share...STUFF IT! But...well....if the person is wrong, or is being absolutely foolish, or is an idiot...well, then...fine....LET THEM HAVE IT!"
Oh, it is useless, this will never change...I am who I am. I mean really, if I changed this about me, what would I do to balance out all my good faults?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Splash into Life
I have come to a crossroads in my life and well...I am taking a plunge.
Remember the Nestea commercial when we were younger? Two adults stood fully clothed facing away from the edge of a pool, and then, as anticipated, they released their upright positions and surrendered to gravity....backwards into the pool: slow motion, falling into the water with the biggest, freshest looking splash...ear to ear smiles plastered on their faces. Obviously, Nestea is refreshing bliss.
Lately, I have come to identify with this commercial as I have decided to take the plunge. I am gearing up to move to the Austin area. When contemplating this decision, I realized that like everything else in life, every answer to every question has a common thread....it depends. Where will we live? It depends....How much can I afford to pay? Is there vacancy where I wish to live? Is it wheelchair accessible? Where will I work? It depends...Who's hiring? Will they want to hire me? Will it pay enough to make ends meet? What will I do with the girls when they don't have school? It depends...Will the chosen childcare be able to care for Gabbie's special needs? Is there transportation from school? Will I be able to find a caregiver? "It depends" stinks!
I know this....the plunge is scary! Leaving the comfortable, the known behind and moving toward the unknown is overwhelmingly frightening, but I have seen evidence that the plunge is exhilarating...thanks to a tea company's marketing department. Logic does tell me that, of course, there is a sting when you first hit the water, but if you don't risk the sting you're just left standing, fully clothed facing away from a great, refreshing experience.
I am scared stiff, but I know it is the right move for me and my girls. I know that the support of family is immeasurable, and I know that where ever I go, God is already there preparing the way and opening all the doors I will need to be successful and provide for my girls. I anxiously look forward to the day when I pack my things, release my current safe, upright position and fall into my new refreshing bliss.
Remember the Nestea commercial when we were younger? Two adults stood fully clothed facing away from the edge of a pool, and then, as anticipated, they released their upright positions and surrendered to gravity....backwards into the pool: slow motion, falling into the water with the biggest, freshest looking splash...ear to ear smiles plastered on their faces. Obviously, Nestea is refreshing bliss.
Lately, I have come to identify with this commercial as I have decided to take the plunge. I am gearing up to move to the Austin area. When contemplating this decision, I realized that like everything else in life, every answer to every question has a common thread....it depends. Where will we live? It depends....How much can I afford to pay? Is there vacancy where I wish to live? Is it wheelchair accessible? Where will I work? It depends...Who's hiring? Will they want to hire me? Will it pay enough to make ends meet? What will I do with the girls when they don't have school? It depends...Will the chosen childcare be able to care for Gabbie's special needs? Is there transportation from school? Will I be able to find a caregiver? "It depends" stinks!
I know this....the plunge is scary! Leaving the comfortable, the known behind and moving toward the unknown is overwhelmingly frightening, but I have seen evidence that the plunge is exhilarating...thanks to a tea company's marketing department. Logic does tell me that, of course, there is a sting when you first hit the water, but if you don't risk the sting you're just left standing, fully clothed facing away from a great, refreshing experience.
I am scared stiff, but I know it is the right move for me and my girls. I know that the support of family is immeasurable, and I know that where ever I go, God is already there preparing the way and opening all the doors I will need to be successful and provide for my girls. I anxiously look forward to the day when I pack my things, release my current safe, upright position and fall into my new refreshing bliss.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Burritos on Bone China
I have recently come to a realization: sad, desperate, humiliating, and surreal.
On a Friday night, my lifestyle is not at all what I would have ever dreamed as a little girl. Case in point, last Friday night by 9:00pm or 9:30pm, I put the girls to bed...they get to stay up late since it is not a school night. I then sat in front of the entertainment amoire and peered at the DVDs I had to choose from to serve as the highlight of my "everybody's waitin' for the weekend" Friday night. The phone rang, so I probed my caller, my baby sister, for assistance in choosing...a mission she was not at the moment so inclined to accept.
After chatting shortly with Amy of subjects unrelated to my current plight, I returned to the daunting amoire, continuing to stare blankly at the ample selection available for my viewing pleasure. After much consideration, I went with the most cathartic selection....Gladiator. (Cathartic how, you ask? There is valor, inspiring me to rise up to my potential, to inspire and encourage me; there is head chopping, show stopping sword fights to empower me to overcome all that which stands in my way to success; there is the impressive theme of undying, heartbreaking, snot on the singed foot of a dead wife L-O-V-E, this, of course, serves only to depress me; and then there is the release from bondage; Maximus is released by death to be reunited with wife and child, as his Gladiator comrades are released from their slavery to return to their prospective loved ones...the everlasting return to family, to home....this theme, the most cathartic of all, allows me to cry myself into a puffy, unrecognizable state. Oh, man - the power of this movie....Do I think I will see it again? I think so, but not yet....not yet....)
Well, as random minds will, I've seemed to have strayed a little off course! To return to my Friday night epiphany I was mentioning before being so completely distracted by the Ridley Scott/Russell Crowe masterpiece which will surely remain a classic many, many years from now....It is Friday night...girls are in bed...I have changed into "something more comfortable" (if you know what I mean, wink, wink.....You know the oversized t-shirt with paint stains and the plaid, flannel pajama pants) Anyway, I then am perplexed as to which comfort food should accompany my chosen film. I first cleanse my palette with a swig of 2% milk from the jug, then thoughtfully peruse the contents of my freezer....there it is! It is actually not a difficult decision; only one frostbitten food could possibly live-up to the greatness of the evening planned...the frozen burrito. I nuke the delectable pouch of beef and bean, place it on the finest dish I own, fill my nicest wine goblet to the brim with Diet Dr. Pepper and settle in on the sofa for what will surely be an evening of what dreams are made of....this is about when it hits me....I am alone on a Friday night wearing the nastiest clothes known to mankind, eating the nastiest form of beef and beans on the planet, sipping a mystery of a beverage known as diet soda, I weigh roughly a metric ton, and have the highlight of the evening centered around blood and tears.
Ouch! Reality bites! No amount of fine bone china or stemware can change the current situation that is my life. So, the only conclusion I can possibly muster...I must try, next Friday, pate on paper plates. Any suggestions on the appropriate movie and beverage?
On a Friday night, my lifestyle is not at all what I would have ever dreamed as a little girl. Case in point, last Friday night by 9:00pm or 9:30pm, I put the girls to bed...they get to stay up late since it is not a school night. I then sat in front of the entertainment amoire and peered at the DVDs I had to choose from to serve as the highlight of my "everybody's waitin' for the weekend" Friday night. The phone rang, so I probed my caller, my baby sister, for assistance in choosing...a mission she was not at the moment so inclined to accept.
After chatting shortly with Amy of subjects unrelated to my current plight, I returned to the daunting amoire, continuing to stare blankly at the ample selection available for my viewing pleasure. After much consideration, I went with the most cathartic selection....Gladiator. (Cathartic how, you ask? There is valor, inspiring me to rise up to my potential, to inspire and encourage me; there is head chopping, show stopping sword fights to empower me to overcome all that which stands in my way to success; there is the impressive theme of undying, heartbreaking, snot on the singed foot of a dead wife L-O-V-E, this, of course, serves only to depress me; and then there is the release from bondage; Maximus is released by death to be reunited with wife and child, as his Gladiator comrades are released from their slavery to return to their prospective loved ones...the everlasting return to family, to home....this theme, the most cathartic of all, allows me to cry myself into a puffy, unrecognizable state. Oh, man - the power of this movie....Do I think I will see it again? I think so, but not yet....not yet....)
Well, as random minds will, I've seemed to have strayed a little off course! To return to my Friday night epiphany I was mentioning before being so completely distracted by the Ridley Scott/Russell Crowe masterpiece which will surely remain a classic many, many years from now....It is Friday night...girls are in bed...I have changed into "something more comfortable" (if you know what I mean, wink, wink.....You know the oversized t-shirt with paint stains and the plaid, flannel pajama pants) Anyway, I then am perplexed as to which comfort food should accompany my chosen film. I first cleanse my palette with a swig of 2% milk from the jug, then thoughtfully peruse the contents of my freezer....there it is! It is actually not a difficult decision; only one frostbitten food could possibly live-up to the greatness of the evening planned...the frozen burrito. I nuke the delectable pouch of beef and bean, place it on the finest dish I own, fill my nicest wine goblet to the brim with Diet Dr. Pepper and settle in on the sofa for what will surely be an evening of what dreams are made of....this is about when it hits me....I am alone on a Friday night wearing the nastiest clothes known to mankind, eating the nastiest form of beef and beans on the planet, sipping a mystery of a beverage known as diet soda, I weigh roughly a metric ton, and have the highlight of the evening centered around blood and tears.
Ouch! Reality bites! No amount of fine bone china or stemware can change the current situation that is my life. So, the only conclusion I can possibly muster...I must try, next Friday, pate on paper plates. Any suggestions on the appropriate movie and beverage?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Everything AND the Kitchen Sink
The first weekend of Spring Break this March, the girls and I joined up with the Jolly family for a camping excursion. The trip was anticipated by Maggie and Gabbie for months in advance. I now cannot remember what initially brought on this obsession with the girls, but it was fast and furious and, I found, irreversible. The girls spoke of camping daily and played camping on the weekends. It became evident that a camping trip was inevitable...even though I knew that the girls had no way of knowing what camping was REALLY all about.
I spoke with Tiffany and the trip was planned. We began planning for meals...I think this is when I began to realize that if you plan to have beans, you better plan to pack a can opener and ensure that there will be a container in which to cook the beans. That's right, I realized the camping rule..."If you're gonna need it, better plan to pack it!" This is what camping is....living minus convenience...on purpose! I will admit I was a little overwhelmed when packing ensued.
Tiffany called at about 11:00PM the night before departure and lifted quite a load as she had already seemingly packed her entire kitchen. Spatulas, electric griddle, Coleman stove, pots, pans, plates, plastic-ware, serving ware, table cloths, etc. With this, I tackled the limited items left and slept knowing that the next couple of nights could prove close to unbearable with the girls sleeping in the woods with nothing but a thin wall of fabric between them and the wild.
By 7:30AM the next morning, we were packed and on the road. We met the Jolly family in Frisco at their home and watched the wonder that was the packing job in the back of their truck. I'm not 100% sure to what I owe my ultimate feeling of peace, happiness, and tranquility as we drove out of the city and into the middle of nowhere. It could have been the perfect weather on the morning of a perfectly stress free day...it could have been the fact that I was escaping the ever-nagging reality that my house needs cleaning, the laundry needs folding and the yard needs mowing...or it could simply have just been the abundant exhaust I inhaled from the Jolly's diesel truck that I was so closely following; I'm guessing a combination of all three had successfully catapulted me into VACATION mode. I knew that the girls and I only had a couple of days to take in all the fun and relaxation we could muster...and I was set and motivated to create an experience they would remember and love. I had no idea at the time that Tiffany was already like 24 steps ahead of me...
As we pulled up to our remote camping peninsula at the Oklahoma State Park, I began to watch in wonder and realize that I was way out of my league. The Jolly's began scoping out the lay of the land to choose the perfect spot in which to set up camp. Once the site was chosen, Tiffany began vigorously sweeping the dirt in the areas that would soon become ground zero for the guys' tent pitching mission. What an experience...the first tent (a very reasonably sized, "get the job done" type tent) went up without a hitch. The second, not so much. First of all, as the guys laid the thing out flat, I wondered...does the Oklahoma State Park have enough room to accommodate this monstrosity of a fabric dwelling? Oh my word, as the poles were placed and the tent took form, my keen sense of space began calculating...that thing...we're going to have to squish it into the 20 or 25 foot space allotted by our surroundings.
Once the tent pitching mission was completed, and the unpacking began, I discovered something about my older sister that I had never before so fully realized. She is what I will kindly refer to as "hyper-prepared." The woman had brought a folding table which she quickly covered with a tablecloth and promptly topped with a square mesh container in which she stored all bread products, a metal utensil organizer filled with every size of serving and cooking utensil available to mankind, cutting boards on which to slice what, I was not at this moment certain, and a crate for the paper goods and plastic-ware. Okay, the setting of this table was definitely my first clue...but I was still in for more shock as she began to create all kinds of areas around the camping site. Before long there was a dish washing area equipped with a large Rubbermaid tub containing towels and washcloths, topped by a large metal bowl, dish washing liquid and a dish scrubber. On the nearby faucet, she had placed a coiled water hose with an adjustable spout. Closer to the table, I found the kitchen area. Marvin had separated the items in the coolers to create a beverage and ice cooler, a meat and cheese cooler, and a condiment and miscellaneous item cooler. These were set side by side, creating the refrigeration area. Across the way, one could find three more Rubbermaid tubs creating the pantry area. One tub housed all of the pots and pans, a second housed all of the canned and boxed foods, and the third housed the snacks and desserts. Amazing! All of these areas where established and open for business in a matter of minutes. Just as I thought I had witnessed all the organizational genius I could possibly handle in one day, the camp liaison came to collect our payment and was bleeding rather profusely from his forearm; I sarcastically joked that he had come just a little too soon, Tiffany hadn't gotten her medical, hospital area set-up yet, to which Tiffany replied, "Oh, yes I have!" as she ran over to a first aid kit set-up on a boulder beside her tent. It wasn't until a little later that I saw Tiffany's bed made in her tent with a self-inflating air mattress, a set of toile sheets (fitted and flat sheet), a blanket, and a matching toile comforter....now, it was official...I declared Tiffany, my older sister, the "FIVE STAR CAMPER!" She had managed to "WOW" me. I am still amazed at her ability to prepare and organize even in the most primitive circumstances.
But of course, being the annoying little sister I am, I couldn't possibly let her know that I was in awe of her...I quickly assessed my options saw the glasses darken in the sunlight and asked the most important question of the trip, "Are those transition lenses?" Her reaction of spite and her hesitant affirmative response let me know...there it is!...the nerve I can strum all trip long.
It was a trip to remember...and what I'll always remember the most is that the girls and I left just in time. (If you're curious as to my meaning here, read Tiffany's chronicles of her experiences once we left on her blog.)
I spoke with Tiffany and the trip was planned. We began planning for meals...I think this is when I began to realize that if you plan to have beans, you better plan to pack a can opener and ensure that there will be a container in which to cook the beans. That's right, I realized the camping rule..."If you're gonna need it, better plan to pack it!" This is what camping is....living minus convenience...on purpose! I will admit I was a little overwhelmed when packing ensued.
Tiffany called at about 11:00PM the night before departure and lifted quite a load as she had already seemingly packed her entire kitchen. Spatulas, electric griddle, Coleman stove, pots, pans, plates, plastic-ware, serving ware, table cloths, etc. With this, I tackled the limited items left and slept knowing that the next couple of nights could prove close to unbearable with the girls sleeping in the woods with nothing but a thin wall of fabric between them and the wild.
By 7:30AM the next morning, we were packed and on the road. We met the Jolly family in Frisco at their home and watched the wonder that was the packing job in the back of their truck. I'm not 100% sure to what I owe my ultimate feeling of peace, happiness, and tranquility as we drove out of the city and into the middle of nowhere. It could have been the perfect weather on the morning of a perfectly stress free day...it could have been the fact that I was escaping the ever-nagging reality that my house needs cleaning, the laundry needs folding and the yard needs mowing...or it could simply have just been the abundant exhaust I inhaled from the Jolly's diesel truck that I was so closely following; I'm guessing a combination of all three had successfully catapulted me into VACATION mode. I knew that the girls and I only had a couple of days to take in all the fun and relaxation we could muster...and I was set and motivated to create an experience they would remember and love. I had no idea at the time that Tiffany was already like 24 steps ahead of me...
As we pulled up to our remote camping peninsula at the Oklahoma State Park, I began to watch in wonder and realize that I was way out of my league. The Jolly's began scoping out the lay of the land to choose the perfect spot in which to set up camp. Once the site was chosen, Tiffany began vigorously sweeping the dirt in the areas that would soon become ground zero for the guys' tent pitching mission. What an experience...the first tent (a very reasonably sized, "get the job done" type tent) went up without a hitch. The second, not so much. First of all, as the guys laid the thing out flat, I wondered...does the Oklahoma State Park have enough room to accommodate this monstrosity of a fabric dwelling? Oh my word, as the poles were placed and the tent took form, my keen sense of space began calculating...that thing...we're going to have to squish it into the 20 or 25 foot space allotted by our surroundings.
Once the tent pitching mission was completed, and the unpacking began, I discovered something about my older sister that I had never before so fully realized. She is what I will kindly refer to as "hyper-prepared." The woman had brought a folding table which she quickly covered with a tablecloth and promptly topped with a square mesh container in which she stored all bread products, a metal utensil organizer filled with every size of serving and cooking utensil available to mankind, cutting boards on which to slice what, I was not at this moment certain, and a crate for the paper goods and plastic-ware. Okay, the setting of this table was definitely my first clue...but I was still in for more shock as she began to create all kinds of areas around the camping site. Before long there was a dish washing area equipped with a large Rubbermaid tub containing towels and washcloths, topped by a large metal bowl, dish washing liquid and a dish scrubber. On the nearby faucet, she had placed a coiled water hose with an adjustable spout. Closer to the table, I found the kitchen area. Marvin had separated the items in the coolers to create a beverage and ice cooler, a meat and cheese cooler, and a condiment and miscellaneous item cooler. These were set side by side, creating the refrigeration area. Across the way, one could find three more Rubbermaid tubs creating the pantry area. One tub housed all of the pots and pans, a second housed all of the canned and boxed foods, and the third housed the snacks and desserts. Amazing! All of these areas where established and open for business in a matter of minutes. Just as I thought I had witnessed all the organizational genius I could possibly handle in one day, the camp liaison came to collect our payment and was bleeding rather profusely from his forearm; I sarcastically joked that he had come just a little too soon, Tiffany hadn't gotten her medical, hospital area set-up yet, to which Tiffany replied, "Oh, yes I have!" as she ran over to a first aid kit set-up on a boulder beside her tent. It wasn't until a little later that I saw Tiffany's bed made in her tent with a self-inflating air mattress, a set of toile sheets (fitted and flat sheet), a blanket, and a matching toile comforter....now, it was official...I declared Tiffany, my older sister, the "FIVE STAR CAMPER!" She had managed to "WOW" me. I am still amazed at her ability to prepare and organize even in the most primitive circumstances.
But of course, being the annoying little sister I am, I couldn't possibly let her know that I was in awe of her...I quickly assessed my options saw the glasses darken in the sunlight and asked the most important question of the trip, "Are those transition lenses?" Her reaction of spite and her hesitant affirmative response let me know...there it is!...the nerve I can strum all trip long.
It was a trip to remember...and what I'll always remember the most is that the girls and I left just in time. (If you're curious as to my meaning here, read Tiffany's chronicles of her experiences once we left on her blog.)
Monday, October 16, 2006
Cake...Kite...Country...Wack!
I know we are all to each other strange in our own way, but I am hoping the following frequent and recent experiences are common among us all. I am interested in reassuring myself that this seeming oddity is not an isolated personal dilemma.
I have lately been having quite a few incidents where a very common word or idea will sound or seem foreign and highly unnatural flowing from my lips or through my brain. I have all of my life not been fond of words such as "cake, kite or country". I have always felt these "k" sounds get caught in the back of the throat and would just as soon gag me as roll off of my tongue. Most words in the English language are my confidants; I love them...love to use them, but I don't seem to have any control over when they come to me fluently when required; nor do they seem to lend themselves to the exact meaning for which I intend them. (I'm pretty sure someone just regurgitated a little in his or her mouth after reading that last hokey sentence.) These experiences with our little linguistic friends have occurred throughout my life; only lately, it is at least daily that trivial moments leave my mind spinning with question and uncertainty.
In reviewing Maggie's latest spelling word list, one of my arch-enemies reminded me of our long time struggle. "Country": I find it difficult to believe this word which is the pride of most citizens worldwide, no matter in which of these they may live, is such an unattractive sounding word: harsh, funky and shares meaning with a not-so-esteemed genre of music. I became distracted by the word, consumed by the multiple meanings of the word, and most notedly, confused by my impossibility to utter this word in any manner which deemed it speakable.
Despite my conflict with certain words, what really has begun to concern me is that this feeling of unfamiliarity has bled over to other thoughts and ideas...namely about life. I have found myself pondering while driving to and from work, washing dishes or conducting any other ordinary daily task the purpose of my life, the absolute frailty of human existence, and the unfathomable amount of bunk one faces in a lifetime. I do not find myself really questioning God or the importance of my faith, beliefs and values. I do, however, find myself questioning every day things such as money, the value of material possessions, taxes, and occupations. I find ticker-tape thoughts running across my mind..."Are there really people who make staples? How does one introduce that mom or dad on career day?" And then I begin to reason with my mind..."Well, surely there are machines that actually make the staples, but there must be people who work those machines...Can you retire from such a job?" I then find myself weighing the importance of staples; it is, after all, a very important staple in most of our daily business operations. (Pun was intended!) I think to myself above the chatter of the Kidd Craddock morning show..."Would I give up silk plants entirely to preserve my use of the staple?" Oh! I think it goes without saying...sure there are paper clips, but these are hardly comparable! The paper clip is so easily removed, while the staple has its very own removal device. This conjures a new thought..."Are there REALLY people who make staple removers?"
At this point, I usually force myself to stop the madness...
I am curious to know...Do we all have these thoughts? Does it have anything to do with age? Could it mean I am stressed and my brain is on overload? Or worse, could it mean I don't have enough to occupy my brain in a constructive manner, so my brain is having to make up its own daily activities?
I think Gnarles Barkley recently sang it best...."Who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are...ha, ha, ha....bless your soul! You think you're in control. Well, I think you're CRAZY!" Possibly...but I believe the kind way we say that here in the U S of A is eccentric. And after you read this blog and identify with it, you can very probably consider yourself a member of a new club...we are ECCENTERRIFIC! Right?
I have lately been having quite a few incidents where a very common word or idea will sound or seem foreign and highly unnatural flowing from my lips or through my brain. I have all of my life not been fond of words such as "cake, kite or country". I have always felt these "k" sounds get caught in the back of the throat and would just as soon gag me as roll off of my tongue. Most words in the English language are my confidants; I love them...love to use them, but I don't seem to have any control over when they come to me fluently when required; nor do they seem to lend themselves to the exact meaning for which I intend them. (I'm pretty sure someone just regurgitated a little in his or her mouth after reading that last hokey sentence.) These experiences with our little linguistic friends have occurred throughout my life; only lately, it is at least daily that trivial moments leave my mind spinning with question and uncertainty.
In reviewing Maggie's latest spelling word list, one of my arch-enemies reminded me of our long time struggle. "Country": I find it difficult to believe this word which is the pride of most citizens worldwide, no matter in which of these they may live, is such an unattractive sounding word: harsh, funky and shares meaning with a not-so-esteemed genre of music. I became distracted by the word, consumed by the multiple meanings of the word, and most notedly, confused by my impossibility to utter this word in any manner which deemed it speakable.
Despite my conflict with certain words, what really has begun to concern me is that this feeling of unfamiliarity has bled over to other thoughts and ideas...namely about life. I have found myself pondering while driving to and from work, washing dishes or conducting any other ordinary daily task the purpose of my life, the absolute frailty of human existence, and the unfathomable amount of bunk one faces in a lifetime. I do not find myself really questioning God or the importance of my faith, beliefs and values. I do, however, find myself questioning every day things such as money, the value of material possessions, taxes, and occupations. I find ticker-tape thoughts running across my mind..."Are there really people who make staples? How does one introduce that mom or dad on career day?" And then I begin to reason with my mind..."Well, surely there are machines that actually make the staples, but there must be people who work those machines...Can you retire from such a job?" I then find myself weighing the importance of staples; it is, after all, a very important staple in most of our daily business operations. (Pun was intended!) I think to myself above the chatter of the Kidd Craddock morning show..."Would I give up silk plants entirely to preserve my use of the staple?" Oh! I think it goes without saying...sure there are paper clips, but these are hardly comparable! The paper clip is so easily removed, while the staple has its very own removal device. This conjures a new thought..."Are there REALLY people who make staple removers?"
At this point, I usually force myself to stop the madness...
I am curious to know...Do we all have these thoughts? Does it have anything to do with age? Could it mean I am stressed and my brain is on overload? Or worse, could it mean I don't have enough to occupy my brain in a constructive manner, so my brain is having to make up its own daily activities?
I think Gnarles Barkley recently sang it best...."Who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are...ha, ha, ha....bless your soul! You think you're in control. Well, I think you're CRAZY!" Possibly...but I believe the kind way we say that here in the U S of A is eccentric. And after you read this blog and identify with it, you can very probably consider yourself a member of a new club...we are ECCENTERRIFIC! Right?
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