The Crumbled Paper

Jedidiah woke up covered in sweat. He knew that today she would come. It had been three months but he did not forget her beautiful face nor her innocent smile.

Mai Lin, however, had no intention of going anywhere today. She didn't want to get out of her slippers and robe nor did she want to climb off her bed. It was one of those days where mother complained at her every move. "Mai the herbs needed to be plucked and you left out the blue pot to get dirty. Mai you made a mess in the bathroom again. Mai get dressed. Mai wash your clothes. Mai your music is too loud." The music was purposely too loud to drone out her mother's nagging voice every three minutes. Mai's father was down at the family's dry cleaning business and her mother was supposed to go to the market, but for some reason got delayed. Somehow it was her fault, as it was always her fault.

Mai had completely forgotten about the slip of paper that was stuck at the bottom of her laundry basket. She would never forget the small mousey blond boy who risked his life to save hers. He had a funny name and he was very strange talking about Jesus. Mai heard of Jesus, but being a Buddhist she never talked about him nor really thought much of it. She regarded him as a skinnier version of Buddha.

Mai dumped out her laundry basket to find a certain pair of jeans that she contemplated wearing and saw the crumpled phone bill with Jedidiah's scribbled writing on the back. Mai stared at it for a long time as if the paper was poisonous. Finally she reached into the basket and pulled out the paper, which despite being moldy and a little wet was nothing to fear. She opened the crumpled wad of paper and straightened it to read the words on the back. "Jesus Christ Saves". "Hmmm..." Mai thought as she recalled the words the funny boy told her. "I am to go to this house."
Mai had never prayed to Jesus. She had knelt many a time to the Buddha in the hallway and said her chants. But this was different. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do nor did that matter. She got on her knees as she had seen done in movies and she closed her eyes. "Um Jesus...you there?" Mai felt rather silly, but was compelled to continue. "I don't know if you are real, but you saved me... I guess. I mean that boy did but he said it was you. So...." Mai stopped, what do you say when you don't even know who you are talking to.

"I want to believe in you Jesus, but I don't know... and my mom will kill me." That last statement made Mai Lin smile. "Jesus I will do it. I will believe in you." Mai Lin stood up and grabbed her back pack, it was time to pay the odd boy from the pool a visit.

Jedidiah and the Mermaid

Jedidiah had no idea where the community pool was, but the image of the beautiful drowning mermaid was forefront in his mind. He took Jefferson street west for three blocks and then turned north for another two. If Jed had arrived five minutes earlier he would have been directly behind a skipping Asian girl, but then he would have been too early.
Mai Lin danced into the gate of the community pool and eagerly counted out $1.75 to the scrawny blond haired teenager at the window. Mai Lin's grin was contagious and the scrawny teenager smiled back. Mai Lin was totally oblivious to him and continued skipping onward to the poolside. Troy and his bumbling buddies were already in the pool area standing by the life guard booth. Mai Lin took off her street clothes to reveal a beautifully embroidered pink bikini and a equally stunning yellow sarong upon her waist.
Robby Larson, Troy's handsome older cousin, was also undressing. He took off his shirt to reveal his muscles and began to flirt with the life guard on duty.
"Hello Chink!" Yelled Troy's gangly red-headed accomplice, Walter Cunningham.
"Yes, May Lin How are you?" Troy cut in. Mai didn't even realize that Troy mispronounced her name, nor did she realize the condescending tone to his voice.
Troy was also grinning ear to ear, but not because he was happy to see Mai, but because of the fun he was about to have with her.
"So Mai, are you a good swimmer?" Troy moved closer to Mai as he walked forcing her to walk further along the edge of the pool away from the safe shallow end.
"Um not really," Mai shyly returned.
"That's too bad. We are excellent swimmers." Troy snidely responded. This time Mai could sense danger. She also could hear her mother's voice in her head, first in hurried Mandarin and then in choppy English. "Those boys are trouble. You need to to get away." Mai turned to run but Walter forced her to turn towards the pool instead with a sharp blow to her side.
"Let's see if Chinagirl can swim." Troy exclaimed as he pushed Mai forward. Mai lost footing and plunged face first into the freezing pool. After her apparent belly flop, she began thrashing her arms frantically, bobbing and coughing in between each thrash.
Jennifer Jones, the cute 17 year old life guard, was still flirting with Robby Larson and did not notice the drowning girl.
At the very moment that Mai had stopped flailing her arms, Jedidiah was digging in his backpack for $1.75. He found exact change in a small forgotten pocket, and quickly paid the young attendant. Three laughing boys nearly toppled over Jedidiah as he rounded the corner to the pool. The red-headed one elbowed Jedidiah as he rudely passed by.
Jedidiah had never been to the community pool so the initial shock to his nasal cavity was enough to make him nearly gag. Then he saw her. The mermaid from his dream was floating in the pool. Jedidiah wasted no time. He jumped into the freezing water head first and pulled on the dangling body. It was as if God had given him fins and gills as Jedidiah glided effortlessly through the water.
Mai Lin hacked and wheezed, spitting water all over the concrete floor. "Th- ank you" , she gasped.
Jedidiah found her towel and placed it on her delicate shoulders as she wheezed and hacked some more.
Then all of a sudden she rose. Jed followed.
"It is my family's custom to thank someone properly. How can I find you to return this favor?"
Jedidiah reached into his back pack and found a pencil and a piece of paper. "Funny thing", Jedidiah thought, "I didn't put those in there." The paper was an overdue phone bill complete with his address and mother's account information on it, not something you would usually hand a stranger.
Jedidiah turned over the bill and began to write his initials vertically down the left side of the paper.
J
C
S
It was almost artistic as if he were going to write an acrostic poem. Then he began to write his name, but he stopped on the e, and continued to write Jesus. On his other initials he wrote Christ Saves and then he handed the paper to Mai.
Go to the address on the back and yell these words. That is the only gift I need. Jedidiah turned to leave so he didn't see the shocked expression on Mai Lin's face. "What an odd thing." She thought.
"Jesus Christ Saves" Mai Lin knew her Buddist parent's would hate that. The rebel in Mai Lin smiled. "Yes he does!"

Jedidiah 6 "Decisions"

One would think that after having a beer bottle hurled toward your head, you would want to get as far away as possible, but not Adela Stitch. Adela was as stubborn as the lid on a brand new spaghetti jar, and she was going to get her money from James Stitch. She pushed Jason gently aside and brushed the dirt from her blue jeans. This time she marched to the door. James was still there propped in the door frame, wiping frantically at his bloody nose with his blue paisley handkerchief that he got at a garage sale. Jimmy's blow had caused the bleeding to drip all the way down James' white tank top and onto his yellow nylon shorts.

"So James. How much are ya gonna give me?"
"I told you lady, I ain't got nothing"
"Well that be the case I will just take your keys to the Harley."

Adela walked over to the beautiful red 1957 Panhead chopper that was parked in his covered spot #204, which James paid an extra rental fee each month, to help keep the Harley in near mint condition. James Stitch had hardly anything of any value, but he had this. He didn't ride it and never did. He washed it, waxed it and stared at it from his plastic .99 cent Walmart chair from his tiny apartment porch.

"Not the Harley." James squealed like a little girl. "I may have some money in the sock drawer."
The "sock drawer" was James'private alcohol stash that he surreptitiously hid from his current wife Melody. It was a small black metal cash box that he kept under his bed among his yearbooks and boring motorcycle magazines. James offered the prized box to Adela. Once opened, it revealed only $250 in small bills. Adela laughed. "Seriously James? That Harley is worth at least $20,000 and you want me to settle for this, not even enough for one month's rent, never mind the four months I owe, nor the ten years of child support you owe me."

Meanwhile Jedidiah was tossing and turning on the couch. Usually after saving lives and souls, he had no problem sleeping midday. God had different plans for Jedidiah today, however. Jed slept for approximately 20 minutes, just enough time to dream. This time, he saw a girl. She was not much older than he with long black hair and a beautiful delicate face. Her hair was flowing as if she was a mermaid. Though her delicate face soon turned an awfuil shade of pale blue. She was not swimming nor struggling to do so, she was simply floating.

Jedidiah had never learned to swim, never even went to a public pool, lake or beach. This was odd for a child who grew up on the California coast, but Jedidiah was an odd child. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that he needed to dive in and save this drowning girl.

Jed got off the couch and looked in his backpack. He didn't think he would need the remaining items, but God had a funny way of surprising him so he left the contents alone. He found a pair of shorts that would have to serve as a bathing suit and put them on and then found a small worn towel to add to the backpack. Then he kneeled to pray.

Mai Lin is actually 2 months shy of 13. Her family moved to San Francisco 3 years ago from Nanjin, a large city in Eastern China. Mai's family owned a business and was very hard working, but Mai had a rebellious streak in her.

Mai did not know how to swim, but Troy Winters did. Troy was her parent's worst nightmare and part of the reason why Mai was so attracted to him. He was in the 8th grade and on the basketball team and most importantly, he was white. Mai was in the 7th grade and absolutely forbidden to date and especially not allowed to fraternize with white boys. Mai thought Troy was inviting her on a date to the community pool. Troy had other plans. Troy pretended to like Mai, but he secretly loathed her and all the chinks. He overhead Mai telling her friend Gloria that she couldn't swim and he created a plan.

Mai glided gracefully past the Budda statues that glared from each room. She silently slithered to the front door. Her mama was out on the porch tending to their tiny herb garden. Her baba was at the family's dry cleaning business so neither parent heard her leave.

Mai skipped the 4 blocks to the community pool towel swinging wildly in hand. Troy, however, was hiding behind the stairwell just inside the door. He was equally excited.

Jedidiah 5 "Confrontation"

Jed had no idea that his mom found an eviction notice plastered to their door that morning, nor did he realize that at this very moment his brothers were preventing her from doing something she would later regret if it didn't kill her.
Jedidiah had never met his father. James Stitch was one of those men who made your blood curl after meeting him only once. He was rough on the exterior and even more callous on the inside. Even when he chose to be sober and clean, he was an abusive husband and father. His rude demeanor and foul temper kept Adela and the boys living a sheltered life away from the neighbors and any friends they may have gained throughout the years.

Jesse, Jason and Jimmy all remember years with pop as stressful and even disturbing. Only Jared, the oldest replica of James, remembers the wildly fun side of dad, that Adela originally was drawn to. Jedidiah was a baby when James high tailed it out of Adela's crazy world, thus relieving her of further abuse. In fact the night he left, James violently attacked Adela. Jared, who was 10 at the time jumped in to protect his mother who was holding the baby Jedidiah. Jedidiah had already a divine protector though at this time had no idea of it. James fought his son with an open switch blade, but Jared, the fearless younger version of James, was not afraid.

Jimmy, Jason and Jesse stayed weeping in the corner. In fact, up to this point the three boys always observed from the corners. For some reason, as Adela traipsed across town with nothing but a torn eviction notice in her hand in search of James Stitch, the two older boys Jimmy and Jason got out of the corner and headed after her.

Both boys were a good twenty minutes behind their mom. Not because they wished to be, but to avoid her seeing them. They knew that their mom had a lot to say so that afforded the boys some extra time. Adela was owed 10 years of child support, not that their drug induced alcoholic father had any intention or means of paying it. He would at least let her make a fool out of herself, in his opinion before striking.

Jedidiah was extremely dirty and ravishingly hungry so he temporarily gave up searching for his missing mother and three brothers. Jesse, who was only 13, was actually only two doors down at his friend Mark's house, and was just as clueless as Jedidiah of their whereabouts. By the time Jedidiah had showered and ate a peanut butter sandwich, his mother and two brothers were all the way across town at James's apartment.

Adela was a small woman at on 5'2. When she knocked on the metal door she felt even smaller. When James, who was a good foot taller than her, opened the door she shrunk. His drunken 200 pound body shook the door frame as he leaned upon it.

"Whatchu want?" James yelled angrily.
"Well hello James." Adela calmly replied. "I am going to lose the house." She thrusted the eviction letter at James.
"How is that my business lady?" James slurred.
"Well your boys will need some place to live and you owe us lots of money." Adela bravely blurted out.
"Ha ha, I don't have any money for you." snickered an incoherent James.

By this time, two heads were poking out of the hedge across the walk way trying to remain silent. Also at this time, Jedidiah had finished his sandwich and was on his knees praying for his mother.

So when James Stitch threw a beer bottle at Adela, the two teenagers jumped from the bushes and headed toward their furious father. And at at the very moment when James rose his fist towards Adela, Jedidiah was praying.

"Lord please protect my mother, wherever she may be. Guard her from danger. Send your angels to surround her. Guide my brothers as they too are missing. Help them to make wise decisions, Lord." At the mention of the word "angels" James swung his fury towards Adela and Jason from the left and Jimmy from the right tackled their huge father.

Jason then grabbed his mother to comfort her. Neither brother ever suspected their youngest brother was praying for them, nor would they have considered themselves angels. God will use even two rough hooligan teenagers to act as his angels.

When Jedidiah was done praying. He was spent and sweating. A warm jolt of peace had surged through him. He knew it wasn't his lunch but he could not exactly explain it either. Adela knew her youngest son was unique. She knew of some of his special "powers" yet she did not know that the power of Jedidiah was really the power of God.

Jedidiah then laid down on the couch in front of the television, which he rarely watched. He knew his mother would return soon and he needed to rest.

The Mud Pile--Installment 4 Jedidiah Stitch

When lying in a mud puddle at the edge of a drunk man’s feet, you only have a few options.  One, stand up and hope that the drunk man forgets that he was trying to kill you. Two, roll away and start running, and three, lay there until the stench becomes unbearable. Jedidiah lied there long enough to pray and realized that yes, the mud was not all that comfortable and the stench was unbearable.

Installment 3 Jedidiah Stitch

“Mickey Massacre”


        Any normal 10 year old would never think of walking towards the barrel of a loaded gun. Fortunately, Jedidiah was not a normal 10 year old. Jedidiah was not always so brave, however. There was a time, almost a year before, that Jedidiah was made fun of at school for his long name, his short stature, his messy blond hair that even gel could not tame, and his clothes that were usually quite worn looking as they were passed from brother to brother, finally arriving at the youngest of 4.
       Then Jedidiah met Mickey “Massacre” Smith, the meanest biggest bully in the 5th grade. Jedidiah was the smallest wimpiest kid in the 4th grade. Mickey would give wedgies to the kindergartners and steal lunch money from little first grade girls leaving them in tears.
      Nobody dared to stand up to The Massacre because he was so huge and terrifying. Jedidiah would not have stood up to him either if it weren’t for Susie Sullivan. Susie had eyes that sparkled like diamonds, a smile as sweet as ice cream, and curly golden locks the color of sunshine. Mickey made Susie cry by spitting on her ham sandwich. Jedidiah couldn’t stand it any longer.
       Jedidiah was a flea compared to Mickey. Despite this, he walked right up to Mickey confronting him. He raised his right fist as high as he could, which only fell to Mickey’s belly. Jed was sure that Mickey’s belly was as hard as a bag of rocks, but none-the-less he started to slowly move his fist towards it. Right before contact was made, Jed heard a voice. The voice said “Stop! Pray!”
     Now Jedidiah recognized a voice as his conscious, the softer version of his own voice when faced with indecision, but this voice was different. He knew this was God. Jedidiah accepted Christ into his heart at a tender age of 6 and at that time, even though he truly meant well, he did not know what that meant entirely. He never heard this voice so clearly before. This voice was telling Jedidiah to not only stop, but to pray….for Mickey. Jedidiah slowly put his fist down. He stood silently in prayer, while a very shocked Mickey started to laugh.
     “Have you met the Lord Jesus?” Jedidiah calmly asked the huge 5th grader.
Mickey’s mouth dropped open. His knees gave way and he fell to the dirty cafeteria floor. Then his chuckles turned to sobbing.
      Jedidiah, determined to make a difference, kept at it. “Jesus died for you and me. You can know him as I do and change your ways.”
      Mickey looked up and directed his anger, frustrations and sadness of his horrible home life towards the heavens; putting aside all of these, he replied, “I want to change. I do. I do.”
      By this time the entire 5th grade, and most of the 4th, were surrounding the two boys, mostly standing in awe of what they were witnessing. The smallest boy at Thomas Morrow Elementary School had brought the biggest boy in the city to his knees in submission.
      Of course, Jedidiah knew that it was God and not by his own strength that had done this miracle, but most of the kids did not. Close to 4o students witnessed Jedidiah lead Mickey “the Massacre” to Christ and they wanted to have that same power.
      Ever since this incident a year ago, Jedidiah has spoken directly to God. His dreams and visions tell him what to do and his prayers give him the tools he needs to accomplish his missions. This is why Jedidiah was not afraid to walk towards the barrel of a gun, a loaded one at that. After all, the Lord was in charge and this was not his ending. In fact, as Jedidiah continued to walk forward, at approximately the same time that the man pulled the trigger, Jedidiah tripped on a stick. He fell to the muddy ground and narrowly, but not coincidentally, missed being shot in the face by a deadly bullet

Jedidiah Stitch continued....part 2

Here is the 2nd installment of my serial blog story. Please come back next Thursday for part 3

        Without even flinching, Jedidiah reached inside his backpack and pulled out the flashlight and bible. He began reading from John chapter 3. The nameless man dropped the plank and got on his knees. He began to cry as Jedidiah read “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotton son, For whoever believes in him shall not perish but will have everlasting life.” The man, who was by this point weeping uncontrollably, slowly crawled over to the huddled children and untied them. Jedidiah kept reading, as if he did not even notice the man’s actions. “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” Then Jedidiah stopped and looked at the man and children crammed together in the corner. He then reached in his back pack and handed the youngest boy the two cars. He gave the scared 6 year old girl a stick of gum and to the oldest boy, who looked maybe 9, he gave the comic books. Then he gave a stick of gum to the man, who now looked embarrassed.  Jedidiah sat down next to the man.

            “What is your name?” Jedidiah asked boldly.

            “Elliot Bently” the plankless man replied.

            “You are forgiven by God’s grace. Just send the kids home.” Jedidiah said and rose to stand.  Then he turned and headed out the unplanked window.

            Jedidiah knew that he was not going home. He walked 3 more blocks further into the seedy downtown area. Most 10 year olds would have trembled in fear, but Jedidiah was not afraid. He walked until he found a dirty wooden bench. He sat down and prayed for wisdom and guidance.

            After almost a half hour, Jed started walked west toward a bridge. There was a man, standing on the edge of it staring into the ditch below. He wavered back and forth. The man, whose clothes were ragged and dirty, did not seem well.

            “Hey sir!” Jedidiah called to the man.

            “Uh” the man whimpered back.

            “Please don’t jump”

            The old man pulled  out a pistol and pointed it towards Jed. “How dare you tell me what to do youngin’” The man uttered. “You have no idea what I am going through.”

            Jedidiah calmly moved closer to the man, not fearing the gun that was pointed to his chest. “Please sir, I know more than you think and I know you are a child of God.”

            The man, whose heart was stone, kept the gun up pointed at Jed. “I’ll take you out too boy. I am not afraid to die.” The arthritic hand wobbled but it stayed focused on its target.

            “I know sir. But this is not God’s plan.” Jedidiah continued moving closer. He was so close, now Jed could smell the man’s stench of alcohol, tobacco and some other unidentifiable smells.

            The old man pulled the trigger.

Jedidiah Stitch

1st installment of my serial novel, Jedidiah Stitch  , come back next Thursday for part 2

Jedidiah Stitch tumbled out of his warm cozy bed onto the hard wooden floor. Today was a big day for Jedidiah. He crawled across the room and peered once again into his backpack that he packed the night before. There was a flashlight, his tattered Bible, three comic books, six sticks of gum, a sweat shirt, an apple, his bottle cap collection and 2 hot wheel cars. Then he added a string that used to belong to an old kite. He pulled the enormous backpack on his pajama clad body. Jedidiah was too excited to waste time with dressing this morning.

He stealthfully tip-toed to the window and slowly climbed out onto the tree below.  Jedidiah was now free. He rubbed his scraggly blond hair out of his eyes and decided the best course of action was west through the giant dirt lot.  The dirt lot was full of interesting things to add to his backpack, things he may need on his journey down town.

Down town is four blocks from Jed’s small house on Jefferson Street.  The dirt lot was bumpy and sometimes contained nails, which if found would be added to his stash. The only problem this morning was that Jedidiah forgot his shoes.  So his dirty size threes scuffled through the empty lot.

Jedidiah didn’t know where his journey would lead him. His vision last night was of an old red brick building that had wood planks over the two upstairs windows.  He could hear muffled crying and arguing but the vision ended without him recognizing what he was being called to do. When he packed his bag some of the odd items seemed to jump off his shelf and into his hands; still Jed had no idea what God had in store for him today.

After four long blocks and very swollen feet Jed saw the red building from his dream. The only thing missing was one wooden plank. Jedidiah climbed the metal staircase on his knees trying to avoid the squeaky steps. He could see in the one uncovered window. “Maybe I am too early, “ Jedidiah whispered.

There were three children huddled in the corner. Jedidiah knew that one of them was the crying child from the night before. Through the dimly lit room he could see that there was someone else there. He could feel an evil presence and the sweat from his brow was dripping onto his now muddy feet.  He wiped his hands on the back of his puppy pajamas. Jedidiah knelt and prayed, not as a habit but as a necessity. He knew something was wrong here, someone was evil and something had to be done about it.

What Jedidiah didn’t know was that the man inside had the missing plank in his hand. For some reason the man thought he may need it. Did the man suspect a supernaturally charged ten year old was outside on his fire escape? Probably not. The man was scared, but not of anything earthly. 

Jedidiah stood up and pulled on his sweat shirt. Then he tried to smooth down his unruly bed head and adjusted his pjs. He was not scared; rather he was full of peace. He still did not know what he was going to do, but those children did not belong in this abandoned apartment building. Those children needed to be saved.

Jedidiah wiggled his way under the planked window, the one closest to the children. A rumbling noise from the opposite corner revealed a dark figure wielding a wooden plank. Jed rose and stood facing the figure with his arms outstretched as a sign of surrender. He resembled the Lord on the cross with his dirt stained palms facing the man.

The man raised the plank even higher above his head ready to strike.

What not to wear at Walmart (or anywhere else on the planet)

        This weekend I went to Walmart and saw someone that needs to join the ranks of the worst dressed Walmart shopper. Yes, this list is long and easy to get onto. As a matter of fact, when you type in "worst dressed people at Walmart" there are several sites of photos that make it into this special hall of infamy. Any one wearing clothes in which your body parts hang out unnaturally or way to much skin is revealed automatically goes onto this list.  Ladies who wear a double D but squeeze themselves into a "small" tee shirt easily are placed in the ranks of terrible clothing attire. I can't even fit my tiny self into a small tee shirt anymore and when I do I look like I am trying to relive my teenage years.  People who are not children in pajamas also go on the list especially those with the cartoon character pjs.  I saw a lady in her nasty scraggly robe there the other night and I was in awe, it was not even late enough to be in your robe as it was maybe 7 pm.
       If you are going to purposely subject yourself to stares and glances of other shoppers, you should at least wear clean pajamas. Then there is the lady who thinks she is still 18, though to be nice she was over 40. I love the eighties, at least their music, but women in their middle 40's to 50's should not be wearing spandex pants with a neon over the shoulder shirt. I also recommend proper undergarments at the store. Heavy women should not wear spandex in any circumstance and they most definitely should wear underwear that covers properly and you most definitely need a bra with an over the shoulder shirt  whatever size you are.  I will save the visual for you and stop there. Also high heels do not go with everything, especially tiny shorts that by the way do not fit women in the plus sizes.  I am not even allowed to wear my daisy dukes outside and I have a nice figure in my opinion.   I have an itty bitty skirt that I thought would be nice to wear out and I know Jay, my best friend and body guard for the night, would have sent me back to my house to change.
       Of course some people don't have time to prepare themselves before going out, I mean it is only Walmart right? I occasionally will wear my sweats out and have done so early or late at night. But I constantly see my students at Walmart so I know I can't look too scraggly. Yes, there have been occasions when my lion's mane was unruly or when my socks didn't match or even gasp, wearing a sports bra. But at least I know I won't be caught as one of the worst dressed there. I hate to only pick on the women shoppers, but unfortunately they bring it on themselves. I have seen a few men who have been flamboyant or colorful in their clothing choices at Walmart. Even seen a few men in their jammies there, but by far the women take the cake.

The Crazy Coaster

        If the crazy coaster comes to your house don't get on it. I have several people in my life that suffer from mental illness and the coaster comes to my house often. In fact it is sitting right outside my door waiting for me to sit down. The jackals on board are howling with satisfaction if I climb on and weeping if I do not.  Sometimes the coaster seems tantalizing. I mean, what if it is different this time? What if I can make the course change? Sometimes it seems easier to join them in their self pity then the effort it takes not to. Especially for those who have the terrible habit that I do.  I have this stubborn quality that hates being wrong so if the invitation is an argument, I usually find it hard to say no. I also can't handle being rejected well nor do I like being insulted. When these things happen I fight back and have found myself smack dab in the middle of the coaster.
      The crazy roller coaster can even trick you. You think for sure this time you are not getting on and before you know it you are strapped in and headed for a downward spiral. I usually love roller coasters, but this is one coaster that I do not enjoy. Once you are on it, you are strapped in and thrust into a scary addictive series of twists and turns that you cannot control if you wished to. Yes, it is addictive....the rush of the roller coaster, but do not let the adreline rush reel you in.
      This coaster is sometimes subtle in presenting itself and you may not even realize your on it until it is too late. I have even ridden the coaster and later gave an excuse to why I got on. In my mind it was a good reason, but in the sane mind my excuse is illogical. Once you climb on, you have yielded control of your situation.  You are letting the driver, which is never you, have complete control.  When the coaster is run by my 11 year old I need to remember that I can climb into the drivers seat and put on the brakes on it. God is in control not the roller coaster operator.
      Instead of getting on the coaster you are to run from it, avoiding it at all costs. My wellness is critical for my family's sake. This last sentence was not reality for me last week. Last week I rode the coaster daily and was in constant state of dizziness. I wasn't contributing to my recovery, but instead was making the roller coaster more tantalizing of a choice.
     I have the choice NOT to get on that coaster. When I emotionally detach from the situation at hand, no matter how crazy, I can be a better mom to my children, a better wife to my husband, a better friend and most importantly a better child of God. When I focus on God and ask Him for guidance about the situation that the coaster is weaving into, then God is in control of the coaster. Wether the coaster is spiralling into someone's depression,or climbing rapidly into a heated argument, or all out mania, I can choose to ignore it. I can choose to "change the dance" by not climbing aboard.  If I have the urge to ride a roller coaster I need to go to Six Flags. Those coasters are definetly more fun.

How not to eat chocolate

http://www.instructables.com/id/Chocolate-Covered-Squid---Valentine-s-Day-Candy-Fr/
       Okay a friend of mine gave me this recipe, knowing how much I love chocolate. This has got to be the nastiest way to cook using chocolate ever. A close second would be chocolate covered grasshoppers. This recipe is from the same person who eats chocolate covered bacon, but at least both of those things are yummy on their own. Squid and chocolate do not go together!!! Do you hear me Darren?
         They look like they are fake when covered in chocolate but I can imagine the feel of the slimy rubbery squid as it slides down my throat and I want to puke. I love chocolate but this is one recipe that gets a huge thumb down for me. I do not enjoy calamari, which is at least fried, why in the world would I want to try this. And then he tells me it is spicy too. So throw in the chili powder to hide the taste of the squid or squelch the taste of the chocolate, which by the way was already ruined with the fishy squid flavor.
       When I was in high school my teacher gave us chocolate bars that were really chocolate covered ants and chocolate covered spiders. It really didn't taste all that bad, but when I bite into my chocolate bar I do not want a crunchy spider leg to poke out. Once I saw that it ruined the chocolate taste and made my stomach turn inside out. Don't get me wrong I love chocolate, but somethings need to stay far away from the chocolate. Squid and chocolate should not even be in the same sentence nevermind the same pot.

The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

   Today's blog post is inspired by this book. I had one of these terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days yesterday. When I think about my bad day in hindsight, as I am sure any one reading this book will  agree, our bad days are really not that bad at all. For example, the poor Alexander did not get a dessert in his lunch box...oh no the horror of it. He should be thankful that he usually gets a dessert at all. Many children would die for his mother's handmade lunch. I had such a bad day yesterday that I deserved, and thouroughly enjoyed, Chipolte for lunch. Oh no, he had lima beans for dinner, but did the poor kid ever think that some malnourished kids never have vegetables for dinner. Another bad thing to happen to Alexander was kissing on the television, yet he is fortunate to own a television, maybe even more than one. His day started poor with gum in his hair, what a lucky kid to get gum before bed. His best friend told him he was his third best friend, how blessed he is to have three best friends. His teacher liked someone's sailboat drawing better than his invisible , and nonexsistant castle, well at least the kid has an imagination.
     I can definetly sympathize with Alexander for when I have a  bad morning, things seem to get worse. My day starts with uncooperative children. Followed by a mad dash to find my keys, only to realize when arriving at work that I don't have the right keys. My coffee was made incorrectly, my classroom is overly cold, my son tore up his pants and.....by the end of the day (only 10 pm mind you) I was utterly exhausted. Yes, I am at this point sounding like a sniveling whining Alexander. I had cried over the most ridiculous things such as finding a lock for my fridge, very cold weather and loud kids. I had other "issues" occur that the drama queen in me only made worse.  The only true reason for my tears was pure frustration on top of a pile of desperation, that was followed by a dash of pessimism, and a failed  test of patience. By the end of the day I was done and I wanted to run away to hide. The character Alexander keeps mentioning that he wishes to move to Australia, which yesterday I completely agreed with him. I was literally worn down and worn out. I know now, looking back, that when I am like this I should just go lie down, not speak to anyone and pray. When I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out is garbled stupidity. I was reminded of this by my best friend, which of course made me cry. Since everything made me cry yesterday, I know that it was not his fault nor his intent to make me cry.

Alexander's mother says the best thing at the end of the book. Everyone has those bad days, even in Australia.

Mini Monster

My daughter is my mini me. Why then do I find her ear piercing screeches so annoying? Did I really sound like this? She talks loud, screams loud, whines constantly and is very annoying when she does any of these things. I know I was always a chatter box and have been known for my diarreah of the mouth on occasion, but the volume issue really is unbearable. My little drama queen is in her room right now trying to convince us to help her clean her room. We could be right next to her and she would be yelling the same. She doesn't even need anyone to talk to as she will converse with imaginary friends or stuffed animals. The boys think it is funny to aggravate  her and at the present moment I had to put one child on the stairs for time out for aggravating her and making her screech. I hope she grows out of this. I know I can be annoying at times, but I am not that bad, am I?

A sweatshirt is NOT a coat

I am going to climb up on my soap box again. Today it is10 degrees out and snowing. Tomorrow will be -11 and snowing. I work at a low income school and many of these students come from Mexico. That is not an excuse for no coats. I asked  some sweat shirt wearing kids where their coats were and they point to their sweat shirt. That is NOT a coat.Many do not own coats, hats or gloves and are standing out in the 10 degree weather walking home. If the school is not cancelled tomorrow, but merely delayed the teachers at our school are going to be upset. We are a neigborhood school and most of our students walk to school so a two hour delay won't benefit them much. Especially when last time we had a two hour delay we had 30 kids sitting in the office who still walked to school at 7 am. They do not serve breakfast on a two hour delay so these kids sat hungry in the office while the office staff babysat them. Many of them had no coats and walked so the office felt bad about having to send them home.  Today a girl showed up in shorts. She walked to school too.  Come on parents SERIOUSLY! I know i have been guilty of sending my kids out without a coat when I thought it was 50degrees and it was more like 40, but not when it is 10 degrees. Today my children had on turtlenecks under the uniforms and sweatshirts AND coats not instead of. My kids hate socks, but today socks were mandatory as well. I saw many students at the school without socks on their frozen little feet.
Yes we have a coat closet for kids to help themselves to, but they were told that they have a coat so they don't bother looking in it. We also have a huge assortment of coats in the Lost and Found, but no one seems to claim their missing coats. I check that thing daily when I find my child's gloves, hats or coats have gone astray.
I am climbing off  the soapbox now.

Let me forget the forgetfulness

         I have not been as faithful to my blog as I originally planned to. Life kinda is crazy in my corner of  the world and time slips away when its left unattended. That certainly doesn't mean that my mind slows down or I found some new kind of peaceful solitude amongst the chaos. This weekend was actually one of the best ones I have had in a while, but one thing did keep rearing its ugly little head all weekend, forgetfulness. I am not old, so why does this problem even plague me. I am so fearful that one day I will leave my house and not remember which street I left it on. I lose my car keys, my bank card (though not as often), even my car in a large parking lot has been known to disappear.  I have lost my shoes, my purse or a particular piece of clothing that I just took out to wear.  My house, with the exception of this weekend, is normally a cluttered mountain of rubbish that eats my things, I am convinced. This weekend we searched all over the house for a pair of glasses and a piece to the fish tank.The glasses turned up, but the impellor never was found. Both items were lost by my sons who had them in their hand at one time and set them down to not know where they left them. I of course am thinking "oh no! Not them too!" Since this sounds like something I would do.
        One solution I have read about is herbal supplements. Seriously!! I hate pills. I hate forgetting more though and the pills may have to win. If the pills are not too big and I gag them up that is. Yes, I am a baby when it comes to pill taking. I have tried brain enhancing "memory" games which I am rather good at.  I have also tried some nasty teas that are supposed to help with memory. You probably have to take drinks of these everyday, which of course I forget to do.
        What I cannot understand is I can remember trivia and facts. I can recite the books of the Bible in order, but not memorize words to scripture. I can tell you scientific tidbits or formulas but I cannot remember how much I spent at the grocery store. I can say hello in 12 languages but cannot remember where I left my keys. There is something disturbingly odd about this. I have always had this ditzy nerd persona, but I fear that it is getting worse. My grandmother had Alzheimer's and my father has dementia as well. I do not want to go down the same path especially when I am not even 40 yet.  All this forgetting of things though make me feel older though. Right now I kinda laugh it off and make it appear funny, but it worries me quite a bit. Lots of things worry me unfortunately, but I will save those for another blog. Why can't I forget to forget sometimes?

Musical Atrocities

    Tonight was my son's first concert in the school band. He plays the drums. Yes, it is a little annoying...the banging, clanging and pounding for practice, but that is why he has a plastic practice pad. It also helps for him to play down stairs.He sounds pretty good to me though I think I am partially tone deaf. He is always playing the "drums" in the car and loves songs with strong beats.
    My first attempt at musical talent was in kindergarten when my grandma thought that her left-handed extremely clumsy, lazy-eyed  grand daughter would be good at piano. Well that lasted one year. I am proud to say that I can now, as an adult, finally play America the Beautiful and Jingle Bells.  I played the violin two years, not consecutively. The only reason I played  was because my best friend played and I went to her house every day after school. So instead of sitting on the stage being utterly bored, or starting my homework, I signed up for the orchestra. Problem was Gretchen was good at the violin and was in the advanced orchestra after years of suzuki violin lessons. I was in the beginner class and quite horrible at it. The violin sounds like a screeching cat and when I played it sounded like that poor cat was in boiling water..
       I then tried play the cornet (a small trumpet-for those of you who are also musical idiots). I wasn't very good at that either and only lasted one year. I was by 7th grade already established as a nerd so I had lots of friends in the band.  They were all better than me. I didn't want to play the cornet, but the rental place only had that and tubas left. I am way too small to play the tuba so the cornet it was. I thought the saxophone would have been cooler and my aunt wanted me to play the clarinet, but no I get the instrument nobody wanted apparently. In high school my two best friends were in the band so I sat with the band at football games, meaning I got in free, but still no musical talent wore off on me.
      My musical atrocities carried into choir as well. I sang at church, but I think everyone is allowed to be in the church choir. I also was a student director for the the musical programs at the church. The only reason for this was I was the most experienced member of the cast and was in every show since kindergarten, so as a highschooler I was an obvious candidate. So where did my son get the ability to play music? I can definitely tell you it is not from my side of the family.

The Doctor

I was pressured today to go to the doctor. I hate going to the doctor. First of all, I know what is wrong with me why do I need to pay someone to tell me. The only reason I go to see one is too get medicine, which I hate having to get. But I know when I have a yeast infection or strep throat so give me the meds already. I also have absolutely no desire to get a shot to be healthy, like the flu shot. If I get sick I figure it is God's way of slowing me down and forcing me to rest some. So I will leave that to God. So far pretty good I might add. I am pretty much immune to most things anyway since I am around hundreds of kids each day. I don't ever get the pleasure of being sick. I say pleasure with a hint of sarcasm though in a way getting sick could be a pleasure for I get to have an excuse to lay around and do nothing. I also hate needles. I have never taken my kids to get shots, daddy has always had that duty.  I had to get a shot in the butt when I had strep throat last time and yes it went away rather quickly. The downside to that is I don't have any amoxicillan pills and that is the whole reason I went to the dr in the first place. I also hate pills but sometimes I do have to take them. It is the lesser of the two evils I guess.I have never had a phsyical as an adult, unless being preggo counts. I sure don't see why I should start. Go ahead and argue with me I just don't know why i need my blood drawn, again that would be a first. I guess there will probably be a day in the future where I will have to, but to me it is a waste of my money. I will climb off my soap box now.

The Good Samaritan

    Today at bible study our leader posed a question to us. How many times in the past year have we done little acts of kindeness? Our discussion was on Luke 10-"The Good Samaritan".  If we do little things daily then when we are faced with something bigger, we will be ready to be of service. This week I can only think of one thing. I asked a child who was sitting staring at his test what was wrong. All the other kids were done and he hadn't even started. He started to cry. Then he admitted that he hadn't slept the night before. I probed some more and discovered he got to school too late for breakfast so he hadn't eaten anything that morning and was hungry too. I took this child to the counselor's office and she gave him a granola bar. I know in this case calling home would probably do nothing, but she suggested that we try. I don't usually do that with a student and I felt good that at least he had some food to hold him over the hour and a half until lunch.
    I don't usually help people when out in public. That sounds uncompassionate but I don't usually see them in need. I know I wear blinders when in public. The main reason is that I am with my kids, I don't want to draw attention to myself any more than neccesary. Believe me my kids do enough of that. So I hurry about my way and don't observe people. I used to be a people watcher and I have turned into a people avoider. I know this is something that God wants to change in me. If someone drops something I need to pick it up as I used to do. Things that make one a good Christian, a good person for that matter, I need to do more of.
   I usually am walking around with my head in the clouds, barely attached. I purposely would avoid situations that made me uncomfortable and  now God is pushing me out of my comfortable box. I am not sure if I will ever be as compassionate as the good Samaritan, but I can certainly get better than I am. The order is "to love your neighbor as yourself ".  I will start with the hardest part of that phrase first, myself. I have always struggled with loving myself so how am I to love others in such a way. If you do not love yourself there is no way to properly fufill this command. I know I have tried and failed. I need to take care of myself before I can help others. This concept sounded foreign to me when I first heard it.  Why in the world would I do that? But now it does make perfect sense, as you cannot give what you do not have.

Oh the dreaded query letter, why do I fear thee so?

        Now that I have an amazing website, I need to kick my butt in gear and send off my query letters. My goal is to send to 50 agents. I can always send to more, but what would be the point of putting all my eggs in one basket by sending it to less than 20.  It sounds easy, but the reality is that I am my own worst critic. I write a" hook" for my book and a synopsis then when I look at it, I sigh in disapproval.  I worry that it will be rejected each time and I fear that my letter will not be up to par with other aspiring writers' letters. Then the letter and my manuscript will go straight to the "slush pile" never to be read or even picked up by an agent's assistant. I wrote my book with such ease, but this is hard. One hard part is my biography, mainly because I do not have any biography to record. They don't want to know that I am a mother of three, a teacher or that I work at my church. They also don't care about my writing career as an amateur either. So I am left more room to describe my book right? Well yes, but try writing a synopsis for a book you wrote that is almost 50,000 words and only getting less than a page to do it in. I am definetly struggling on this. I will get it done and I will try very hard to change my point of veiw and be a little more optimistic. I think I enjoy being a pessimist though. I am going to also force myself to finish one of my other three in progress stories. Then people will have something to read when they come to my beautiful website.  :-)

Glasses

I really need glasses. My recent pounding headaches are evidence of this. I have trouble with seeing anything far away making driving at night or reading words off a screen very taxing on my eyes.   The problem is I hate how I look in glasses. Other people look fine in them, but I look retarded in them. Maybe it is the nerd complex that I am trying to get out of now that I am grown, or perhaps it's my self esteem plummeting to the earth when I put a pair on. My other glasses mysteriously disappeared and fortunately for me the prescription was no longer valid.  One problem with the glasses situation is my size. I have a small face which puts me in the child or teen sizes. Is it wrong for me to be embarrased a little at the thought of wearing the same size glasses as my puny 11 year old?  I have been to five different glasses retailers and my picky self is displeased with every single pair I try on. I did find an acceptable pair at one store, but they did not take my insurance. Today I went to another place and there may be some hope there. They did have a lot of choices, but my children were being far too annoying for me to continue on my search. So until I search again, no glasses yet.  Maybe a second opinion is what I need. My husband and best friend seem to know what actually looks good on me so I may have to just let them pick the darn things out.

No way a monkey could do this

For the last few days I have been working on my website. My best friend is actually doing all the hard work, but he is challenging me to think, making me write and forcing the process of publishing my book. I have been delaying the whole publishing idea because I fear rejection. This is giving me self confidence though to see my words in such a context.  My website so far is amazingly beautiful. He has exceeded my expectations two days in a row. Yes, as he reads this his ego is going to shoot through the roof, but I really did not imagine it to look this nice and professional. Jay informed me that a monkey could make a website. I doubt the validity of that claim.  My experience with monkeys is that they fling poo and pick nits off their mates. I do know a monkey could not have designed my poem page. Keep it up Jay! I love it so far.

All I got was shortness of breathe

      I have always had a competitive spirit. I do not like being 3rd and I hate being 2nd. 2nd is worse than 3rd because now I have a personal vendetta against the person who is first. Not placing at all always irritated me so much that I pushed myself to do better the next time. In high school I ran with the guys at cross country and track, initially that was part of my strategy to become a better runner. In time I became "one of the guys".   Competition makes me a better person if I keep myself in check. Pushing little children aside to be first in a class room race is not going to win me any points. Today at church there was a challenge posed to the kids and of course I wanted to win. The spoiled little child deep inside me was saying "me me me". The challenge was who ever can win the race against a 6 foot tall leader got to have 5 points for their team. I did win, but since the challenge was for the children no points were awarded to the fabulous me or my team. All that I got was a shortness of breath and pain that I will regret tomorrow. I am not a 16 year old cross country runner anymore that is for sure.
     Part of the same spirit that wants to win all the time also does not like to ask for help. I know you are supposed to humble yourself and be willing to be helped, but that is easier said than done. I want to be independent. I want to do it on my own. I can do a man's job, I am one of the guys after all. I was raised with all boys. I am also getting better at receiving help, but I still hate to admit that I am weak and that I do need help sometimes.
     I also don't take criticism well. This has to do with my desire to be first or the best. I know I am not really the best at anything. Please feel free to be my critic as I need the practice. I will sulk in my little corner and no one will get hurt. I am much better at it then I used to be. I guess I put my "big girl panties" on now.

Homework Nazi

Today I put on my uniform and became the homework nazi, kinda similar to the cleaning nazi but without the nerf gun and the big stick. I run around to the three different locations that my children have been plopped and check each little amount of progress that they scribbled onto their paper. When I am done with looking at one child's work I hurry across the room to see any progress that has been made. My oldest absolutely refused to do any homework other than practice his drum which I know gave him extreme pleasure that the pounding banging clamoring noise was actually his homework, he even had an assignment on a paper from the music teacher. The spelling book once again has miraculously disappeared and getting him to read a book is almost as hard as pulling teeth from a crocodile. My middle child did not have much homework so he volunteered to take out both trash cans and feed the dog. My sweet child avoided the homework nazi's wrath that was caused by his older siblings mislaid home work. My youngest simply shocked me, she laid down where she was plopped and did all three assignments. For a split second, before she started rambling on and on and on about a new binder, I thought that maybe I brought home a different child. So until tomorrow, the homework nazi has hung her uniform and sighs a giant sigh of relief.

Chocolate Diet

       Chocolate.....I absolutely am convinced I can live on chocolate. In college I lived on Haggen Daas Ice cream by the pint, had one every night.   I tried the chocolate diet last summer and the results were that I lost 10 pounds. My diet was Reese's Peanut Butter cups, coffee and a Pepsi and then a regular dinner. This diet is not recommended for people with an extremely high metabolism and an inherited propensity for cavities. That is why I lost weight and now I have discovered that I can no longer eat as much chocolate as I wish. My tooth in the back top corner aches and moans when I do now. I am not willing to completely give up chocolate however. So that means a trip to the dentist. Did I mention that I hate going to the dentist, probably even more than going to the doctor?  The doctor does not give you a list of all the things wrong and give you a list that you cannot afford to fufill.

       Back to chocolate....my favorite food, though I am not too keen on mole. I will eat it, but chocolate has its place and on top of meat is not one of them, in my opinion. If I am in a bad mood or having a bad day...chocolate can save the day. Recently a friend of mine made chocolate chip and bacon cookies. I love chocolate chip cookies and I love bacon, but I am hesitant to mix the two. I am not picky about the kind of chocolate either. Yes peanut butter cups are fabulous but so are pretzel m&ms. I also eat white chocolate, but I am not too keen on the white chocolate reese's peanut butter cups. I mainly only have the white chocolate in my coffee, but I like darker chocolate coffees as well. Dark chocolate is also especially tasty and it is good for you. Hmmm...maybe I should have had dark chocolate in my diet. My poor eating habits are finally catching up with me. I gained back the weight and now have a mommy belly to flatten out. It is quite humorous that I have finally grown out of the size 0s and 1s. Yes I owe it all to chocolate, yummy yummy chocolate :-p

Precious Life

      Tonight I was reminded how short our time on earth is....yes some of us live 80-90 years, but in God's perspective it is short.  You don't know just how long you have.  Yes this post is a little more spiritual less humorous and more thought provoking. I do have a serious side after all. One lady in our bible study is being evaluated for cancer and you could see genuine fear in her eyes. She knows the Lord so I don't think her fear is of dying yet somehow the fear was still there. Then another lady told about her 80 year old grandmother and how very close she was to dying and how hard it was for her to find joy today.  This is a lady who spends an hour every day in God's word yet she too was struggling.  Then her husband was talking about his father's resentment toward God because he had a heart attack at a young age and never smoked or drank....Good health is not a gaurentee that you don't or won't get sick.
    I personally hate going to the doctor. I have been having dreams though...dreams that rotate between my husband and I sick or dying. They are quite depressing I admit. I do not enjoy the dreams at all. I have dreams that I have a heart attack and simply fall over at work. Maybe the dream is supposed to be telling me that I need a plan for my children or that my stress level is too high. It could mean that I need to drag my butt to the doctor to get a physical despite my utter dread of needles and doctors and pill taking. I never die in my dream but I am in the hospital and that is why I think it is a sign for me to pay attention to my choices and make better ones.
    The husband dying dreams are unfortunately more frequent. I know I have fears of being alone. I know I have concerns with his well being that aren't addressed so that is probably the root of them. I doubt they are prophetic but how do I know this. The dreams are never exactly the same but I wake up feeling the same. I feel horrible actually.  I do not wish death upon even my enemy (well I don't actually have any known enemies but still...) why am I having these dreams. Maybe the doctor that I might have to see will prescribe me a sleeping pill that will help me with this, since sleep is becoming more of a rarity and a luxury. I really hate taking pills they make gag, but it has gotten to that point of the lesser of two evils.
     I am going to go hug my kids now and then watch a movie with my husband. I don't know how long I will be on this earth but I do know I have my name written in God's Book of life!! Amen to that. I just will continue to pray that the dreams, fear and worries that I struggle with will disappear so that my days here will be more enjoyable.

A Day at the Zoo

       A day at the zoo can go two ways pure misery or pure enjoyment.  It can be cold, rainy or snowy (which by the way I do not recommend). You  may end up having to ride the emergency vet van down to the parking lot only to find out that you left the sun roof of your car open. Or you may be half way through the zoo...all the way up at the top and it begins to snow.  Yes, the weather in Colorado is fickle...close your eyes and it may change. Or it can be hot and sweaty where you run out of breathe easily because our zoo's ascent is the equivilent of a 10 story building. Then you factor in your children. If they are irritable, you end up listening to an hour or so of annoying sniveling whining. They may be extremely excitable, which is often the case of my children....bouncing off walls, running ahead of you and calling from afar "Look mommy look". Excitement is not a bad thing, but it is inevitable that my three are all beckoning me to look in different directions. Another mishap at the zoo could be losing of an item....a shoe from the sky ride, a hat thrown into the lake, a child that disappeared to sit on the train ride and wait for us without informing a soul. Hobbling through the zoo is another thing that should be avoided, especially at our zoo. My best friend, Jay, twisted his foot and then proceeded to walk around on it for a whole hour before even putting ice on it. That would be a good time to take advantage of the zoo tram. I also recommend bringing a hat to wear when visiting the Budgie Buddies...yes I did get a nice present from a bird on one visit to the zoo.
      My children are as unpredictable as the weather here in Colorado, but we have had many enjoyable times at the zoo too. When the zoo keeper lets my daughter, who is in a dress and fancy shoes, hold the snake, when same daughter wants to know what does a carousel eat (We had just fed the meerkats), or when my sons get to feed the tortoises,  the mother in me smiles. Feeding the giraffes and having a wet blue tongue lick you is not exactly enjoyable for me, but to my son it is delightful. The Bornean Orangatan kissing us through the glass clearly makes up for the cold wet shoes due to children walking through every snow drift.
Today was such a day...it was cold, wet and could have been miserable. My sons fought over a jacket and one son threw his hat on the ground (not the lake at least) but overall the day was quite fun and best of all due to membership it was free.

Testing nightmares

I have the unfortunate pleasure of  testing 464 children for the state of Colorado (luckily not by myself). I have some amusing observations from today alone that leave me utterly exhausted. First of all, since when does "one" mean color in every bubble on the page. Then i had a student get up during the test and try to help his non English speaking buddy to do better.....seriously kid sit down!! One child thought his shoe was more important than the test and since he was given the opportunity to test...well we have to leave him be. Then what do you do with the test that little kindie what's his name who drew flying robots and monkeys all over his test....yes you guessed it, you get a giant eraser and get erasing. Then there are the not so know -it-alls who are done first and absolutely refuse to check their work eventhough you know that they got them all wrong. Well until the fun begins again on Tuesday I am going to rest and hopefully I will not repeat test items in my sleep.