Well- I wouldn't carry it around, but I thought it might be a pretty funny thing to have on a thong for example.

I read Twilight this weekend. I had been told it was good- then the movie was getting such hype- and it was on sale for half price- I just decided to read it.

It was a pretty good story- I can see how it appeals to high school freshman all over the country. There was a sneak preview of the next book at the end. It looked good too, but when I read the amazon summary I decided I probably won't read it. It seems the series goes down hill after the first one.

I am also currently reading, The Know it All, Anne of the Island, and The Canterbury Tales.
Although, I seem to have misplaced The Know it All for the moment. I'm sure it will turn up eventually. I hope so, I was only half way through.

I'm disgruntled today.

Small things are bringing me down . . . poohy.

I've been sick for about a week. Sickness is a drag. I don't understand how people go around being sick all the time. How are they not just depressed out of their gourds? Allergies- sinus drainage, cough, tight chest, sore throat, stomach upset, weird voice . . . tired from the medicine. Same as last year, but not as bad- yet.

Nothing is especially appetizing- I'm supposed to avoid dairy and fatty food, they make the mucus worse. What should I eat? Soup? AGAIN!?

My mother would call a pity party for me at this point- anyone? anyone?

Tonight, after nine months, my brainiac dog has 'discovered' there is a turtle in the apartment. He is pretty excited about it- he is also convinced that it should be in the kitchen. He has taken a new interest in the kitchen sink- which he usually avoids like the plague- as he's experienced the dreaded 'bath' there.

(He knows 'bath' is a bad word as much as he knows 'outside' is a good word.)

He has run back and forth between the living room and the kitchen about 100 times in the last hour since the discovery. In between trips he stares at the tank longingly and whines- alternatively he stares at the kitchen sink and whines.

I guess he thinks the turtle should be in the sink because the tank is against the kitchen/living room wall. Also he saw me emptying the feeding tank water into the sink.

At least there is some reasoning in that tiny little brain.

"It’s nominating some characteristics; it is hard to become the wrinkle, hard to thrust an insect and easy to dye."

seriously, my head is about to explode- I've been reading exceptionally written research papers- some good- some with good ideas, but the sentences . . . KABOOM!

I told my students today about being president-elect, a lame duck and my limited understanding of how the electoral college works . . . seriously short discussion.

 

 
When students get a hold of your camera . . .
 
Christmas is coming to Texas!

 THE HAND!

 
remember the beauty of eggs
 
Buzz in the sun
 
heirloom pumpkins, fall in the air
 

Mini cupcakes (vegan)

Mini-me

Chili- may not look good, tasted great!

So, Alan Dart wrote back. I was rather surprised. He told me I didn't read the pattern notes correctly. Hmmm- so it is. Well, he is English, it's so hard to understand the English- they are so . . . English! Why can't they just write plain American? Can you spell ethnocentric? I'm not really- everyone is beatuiful, in his own way. Even those of us who don't know how to knit hands.

He was really nice about telling me how to read the patten though- he said go ahead and make Halloween hands for everyone. I haven't finished a hand yet, but I did get past that first row of sorrows.

Fingers and pictures to come.

I just wrote an email to Alan Dart, my a for mentioned favorite knitting pattern maker.

http://www.alandart.co.uk/pages/products

Dear Mr. Dart,

I love the hands on your human(ish) toys, but I've tried and tried and cannot make the hands. I finish the thumbs, but when I do the next row
"inc for fingers- K2, inc 1, (K1, inc 1)twice, K3, inc 1 turn and work these 15 sts only." I find no matter what I do, I only have 11 stitches when it's time to turn.

Is this a misprint or do I just fail at making hands? Are there any videos online that show how to do this technique? Do you have any alternative instructions for hands (as opposed to the instructions for Little Lorelei and Barnacle Bill?)

I'm so sad I can't make hands- they are surely the best bit of your human type dolls. If I could knit hands I would knit tiny disembodied hands for all my friends- and they would say that was creepy, and I would agree, but be ever so happy that it was possible.

Thank you,
Shannon

So, I have a Facebook page. (I constantly tell my students to avoid starting sentences with coordinate conjunctions; honestly I’m such a grammatical hypocrite.) Anyway-Facebook page. I signed up for it because a co-worker in India insisted it was the funnest thing on the virtual block. I got one and it was fun for about two weeks, then it lost it’s luster and I gave up playing with it. I’ve found that when I don’t have a “computer job” ie I spend long hours in front of a computer, I lose interest in making more than one senseless website contribution. I think if I had a computer job I would update my Facebook on a daily basis- always telling people what I’m doing and comparing them to each other and telling them I would rather be handcuffed to them than to some other friend; when in actuality I don’t want to be handcuffed to anyone.

According to my current rankings I am “most likely to kick it with Jesus some day” but in fact voted “0% friendly.” Sad commentary. Categories I win in: more powerful, smarter, more famous, more reliable, would rather live with, braver, more adventurous, more naturally talented, funnier, more confident, better catch, better at science (!?) harder worker, crazier, more artistic, more creative, studies harder, more useful, more outgoing (seriously who were they comparing me to?) Categories I lose in: more tech savvy, nicer, more punctual, more likely to skip class (little do these people know) more likely to do a favor for me, more fashionable, better public speaker, (I think I’m pretty good actually) rather have dinner with, would make a better father (duh) has a better profile picture, person I am jealous of, more loyal, would rather marry, more popular, can drink more, better dancer and kinder.

Pooh on those people who think I wouldn’t skip class and I’m a bad public speaker or that they don’t want to marry me- I’m a catch- just ask me I’ll give you a public speech about it while I am skipping class.

Well- I mean I don’t skip class now- I get paid to go to class, if I skip I don’t get paid. That doesn’t work out like it did in college and high school.

So, on Face book I have all these “friends” most of them more along the lines of past acquaintances. (Again with the coordinate conjunction.) Some of them, to be honest, I never really liked in the first place. Time and distance seems to blur the lines though. Some of these people would never give me the time of day when we could have possibly actually been friends. They request to be my friend, and I just accept. The most astonishing Facebook find was Vicki my best friend in 4th-7th grade. We had a little falling out when I stacked her locker so that when she opened it a sanitary napkin fell out in front of everyone- but other than that we were tight. Then I moved away. We wrote back and forth for about a year and then I never heard back from her. I got a friend request from her a few months ago. Wow- long, long time.

It’s an interesting thing to have- I know how to contact these long-losts if ever I want to. There are some other people I would like to know about. Susan, Mac and David from high school; Val, Francie, Rachael and Joe from Geneva; Kent, Joan and Alden from DCC; Jane, Dana, April, Anna, Sam, Dorian from summer missions; Susan, Bil and Jason from Journeymen. There are already too many people to actually keep up with, but I’d like to know how these people are in a general kind of way.

Oh, the knits I could knit . . . seriously, who wakes up in the morning and thinks, "Hey, I think I'll knit some toilet paper."

It is cute- cuter than the tampons . . .

I made a hat over the weekend. It was chunky yarn, so it’s not really a big deal. I saw the pattern online and thought “that’s so cute! I can do that!” In fact I could do that- but it turns out “that” is not so cute in real life. I learned two new techniques to make that hat! I did them right! It turned out just like the picture.

Here’s the problem- the picture shows the hat from the back. From the back the hat is cute. From the front it is like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man ordered a beret, and that beret started bubbling and melting on my head. I looked in the mirror and thought “What happened! This can’t be right!” Then I turned around and looked at the back of the hat, and sure enough- it was cute, just like the dratted picture.

That will teach me to knit a hat with only a picture of the back to judge cuteness by.

Upon frontal inspection of the “hat” I decided it was terminally ugly and must be unmade post haste. I feared for my life and well being, thinking perhaps the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man would storm in demanding his half melted bubbly hat and inadvertently do some harm in the process.

I need a plan. I've started looking at new jobs. I like this job, but it's really just a place to be until something happens. Nothing has happened, so by next summer, I think I'll need a different place to be, unless something happens. I found a few interesting jobs here and there.

Princess Cruise lines occasionally wants somebody to teach their crew mates English on the way to Fiji. I could dig that.

A family in Iraq wants someone to teacher their effluent little Kurdish children English- kind of like an American Nanny/Teacher. (The first thing I thought was, "Wow, I could teach the next Saddam Hussein!" of course, this one probably wouldn't go around killing Kurds, he would go around killing non-Kurds, there are more of them.)

A woman's college in Korea wants someone to teach English and "content" to some Korean women (I imagine.)

I've been so remiss on my blogging. Really, I still have plenty to say- but for some reason, I am unmotivated to actually say it. I don't even say it outloud to anyone- let alone write it. I just think it and move on.

Last night I thought about what a pretty color of brown my eggs were. Lovely, really. I thought about taking a picture of them. But even that seemed like something that would require more motivation that I actually had at that moment.

Pictures don't take that long.

Not like writing an account of wanting to take pictures.

Ehh.

I baked a cake last night. It was from a mix. I used a silicon bundt pan- the cake turned out smaller looking than I expected. This morning I decided, with the help of Betty Crocker, to suplement it with a white cup cakes. We were doing pretty good until I realized that they didn't taste good.

I'm going to blame it on the old ingredients. The vanillia was at least 4 years old and the the shortening about a year old.

I should cook more, then I wouldn't have such old ingredients.

I can't really blame the glaze on the ingredients though- that was my fault. Too much milk . . . measuring is so over rated.

I'm going to the store today to get new ingredients. This cake and cup cakes are not representative of my abilities, besides, I need dog food. Buzz is really hungry.

I have more time these days. I don't have as many classes. I've found that if I really put any effort what-so-ever into my life I can get alot of things done.

Mostly I just sleep in though.

"Inside the restaurant, there are some cock models and you can figure out its feature."

My student writing about Babe's chicken restaurant- by "cocks" he means "chickens."

There is a reason I don't ever want to teach middle school aged children. The reason is, for the most part, they are incredibly annoying.

Around the ages of 9-12 kids take great joy in correcting other people. I'm sure it's even more fun when they get to correct an adult. So if one says, "It's 12:30." The preteen would say, "No it's not! It's 12:29 and a half!"

The preteen finds this to be a grand coup d'etat. Ah ha! The preteen outwits the adult once again!
This is something all kids do at some point. I had a penchant for correcting grammar myself.
The main reason it is so annoying is that what is corrected tend to be such minor details that to correct them is essentially nonsensical.

Really, does it matter if it’s 12:30 or 12:29 and a half? When someone is telling a story does “a apple” in stead of “an apple” cause a communication break down? If I say I live 30 minutes away instead of 22 miles away, do you still understand something about where I live?

So it goes that some people grow up, but remain in this stage of feeling superior to other by means of correcting them, by insisting on being right all the time, by refusing to accept anything but the literal meanings, or the ones that they themselves have pronounced acceptable.

I’ve noticed that these people, much like children, have no idea how annoying they are. They don’t pick up on all the cues that adults give when they are annoyed. They fail to show any acknowledgment when people respond poorly to them, or don’t respond to them at all.

I know one such person. Actually, I’ve know several such persons. In the past I decided a few of them needed someone to guide them on the way to be less annoying. Others of them I wanted to stab with my pencil.

This one I just try to ignore. I have no desire to be involved enough to guide or stab.

He asked me to pick up some ‘spring water’ from the store. The store was out of ‘spring water,’ so I bought ‘drinking water’ thinking that it’s pretty much the same. When I brought it back, he said, “That’s not ‘spring water,’ you might as well throw it away, nobody’s going to drink it unless you want to.”

’Yes, you’re welcome . . . Ass.’

That’s what I wanted to say. Instead I said, “Yes, I will drink it, because it’s drinking water.”

Thinking to myself, ‘Because I know that the difference between the two is the color of the packaging; and maybe, if the company is honest, the way in which the water comes to the surface.’

I grew up near a town in Pennsylvania called Cambridge Springs. It was a pretty popular resort destination in the late 1800s and early 1900s because of it’s “superior spring water.” My mother worked at the resort and she said people used to walk the board walk a quarter mile into the middle of a field to the spring. They would pay five cents for a glass of ‘spring water,’ not knowing that they were also taking showers in ‘spring water,’ and flushing their toilets with ‘spring water.’ It was all the same water. The only difference between ‘spring water’ and ground water (which is used to make ‘drinking water’) is that ‘spring water’ comes from a source that naturally raises to the surface. Some people think ‘spring water’ is the same as ‘mineral water,’ but that’s only the case when there are minerals in the ground from which the water springs.

Ass.

Have I mentioned I'm in love with Alan Dart? I wonder if he's gay . . . I don't mean to stereotype, but the man knows cute! First I HAD TO HAVE his gnome pattern. I looked all over and finally sucommed to ebay- of course now I find it on his own website. Too late. Then I had to have - (it wasn't as urgent as the gnomes) some bears- then I made the mistake of looking him up again and I HAD TO HAVE this book. I MUST knit chickens and bunnies!

The next must have is the mice- need them, but I'll wait a more oportune moment for the mice . . .

yes- the mice shall be mine . . . My precious . . .

I have finished all the bits of my first gnome, just gotta sew him together. He's gonna be super cute!

So pk called the other day to inquire about spending some quality time at the Indian restaurant in my neck of the woods- this is the most authentic Indian restaurant I’ve ever seen not in India. It’s more India than some restaurants I did see in India.

When I take someone there, we are inevitably the only whities in the place. It’s even set up in the Indian style, where you have to go to different counters to order different kinds of food- you order it from one (or several) person/people then they call your table number –It is important to sit at a table which they know is not clear over the loud speaker. When they say 13 or 30 they know it’s not clear, so they will say, “13- one-three” or “30- three-zero.” If, however, you sit at table 11 for example- well they know that doesn’t sound like anything so when they say, “Table eh-hen!” They expect you to know that – ‘yes you whitie- I plainly said,’ “Table ehhen!” Then you will look at the woman calling tables and look at your table number “eleven” and realize she’s been calling you for the past minute and a half.

It is called the “Chaat House” which is basically Snack/Street/Fast food in India. Yes, as a matter of fact you can get an entire four course meal at a stand/up-street side restaurant in India. This place, however, has tables and chairs- snacks and meals. I saw it when I first moved to Irving, and just couldn’t bring myself to enter- but after about 6 months of no Indian food, I decided to try it out- It is South India in a strip mall. I deeply appreciate it now. In the same strip mall is an Indian supermarket. If you feel a need for a few liters of coconut oil, or maybe some bitter fruit, or masala tea- this is the place to go. Pk bought a candy bar- I felt obliged to also buy something. I looked at the pharmacy section- found some “creamy snuff” next to the “Monkey Brand Black Tooth Powder” Umm- no to both. I don’t even know what black tooth powder means- Is it for black teeth?

Does it make teeth black? Or is it the actual monkey they are describing? Is it for black monkeys or should it actually read, “Black Monkey Brand Tooth Powder.” I don’t get it. And as for the “Creamy Snuff-” Why is that in the pharmacy section? It’s slogan was “A Wonder Treasure of Tobacco Pleasure.” It said, “Means Feeling Fresh” on the box. Do you brush your teeth with it? Sounds like that would make your teeth black. I found a “Yorkie” candy bar- “Not for Girls!” Well- that can really cut down on sales one would think . . .


I found some “Fat Fat Digestive Pills.” Uh- I don’t even what to think about it.

I finally decided to go with the “Hello Bee Bee” candy. It was yellow, it had a bee on it which looked suspiciously like the “Honey Nut Cheerios” bee. Maybe it’s his Indian cousin. I was thinking, “Ooh, look, they are even shaped like little bee hives! Cute! They must have honey in them! I bet they taste delicious!”
Obviously, with this insanely optimistic train of thought, I have been away from India for too long- I was putting things together in such a way that they would make sense. My mistake.

When I got home I ate one of my “Hello Bee Bee” “honey” candies. First unexpected thing was that although it was “gummy” it wasn’t gummy like Gummy Bears. It wasn’t even gummy like Swedish Fish. It was more along the lines of gummy like Jello which has been left in the fridge, uncovered for about a year and a half. It was resistant to my chewing- it made me feel uncomfortable.

Second, I noticed that I wasn’t tasking honey at all. I was tasting . . . something else . . . something I recognized . . . something that did not belong in my mouth in candy form . . . it was SWEET CORN!
Dang it! That wasn’t a long skinny bee hive!! It was candy corn! REAL candy corn!

India- you’ve done it to me again. Blast you!

I would like to say "What the . . . ?" and "Ewww!"



Tampon dolls look great in your bathroom, maybe next to a toilet paper doll? Not meant for children. Great as a gift for that person with a sense of humor!

that being said you can buy these babies for only $10.00 each!

But sometimes when you are young, you think that you can do everything you want like smoking selling drugs, dancing, being unconscious. Young people should understand that when parants ask them not to o something bad, it is for their well-being. When you smoke, for sure you will get a deisease; when you are unconscious you can miss a lot of opportunity to success in your life Finally, to be young is good but to be young and conscious is great.

Words of wisdom from a former student

One of my students was talking on the phone in class. I asked her why she was talking on the phone during class time, she said, “I don’t know!” So I asked her who she was talking to, she said, “I don’t know!” then she said, “He wants his Jackie.” I asked her if she told him he had the wrong number. She said “Yes!” I asked her why she was still talking to him in that case. She said, “I don’t know! He called me his Jackie!”

I said, “Give me the phone.” I took the phone and told the guy he had called my international student and she didn’t understand what he wanted, and asked who he was calling for. He said he was just trying to talk to Jackie somebody. I said, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” He said, “Yeah I figured I might when she didn’t know what I was talking about.” So I hung up.

I asked my student why that was so difficult. “If you get a wrong number, you just say, ‘I’m sorry, you have the wrong number’ and hang up!”
She said, “But he called me his Jackie!”
I said, “But you aren’t Jackie!”
She said, “I thought he knew me!”
I said, “How could he know you if he called you the wrong name?”
She said, “He called me his Jackie!”
I said, “Are you Jackie?”
She said, “Jackie means “honey” in Korean. He said, “Hi Jackie (honey) and talked to me and I am not his Jackie (honey!) He was a bad man!”
Me: “Uh- no, he’s not a bad man . . . he just wanted to talk to (his) Jackie.”

That poor guy . . .

STING LYRICS

"Brand New Day"

How many of you people out there
Been hurt in some kind of love affair
And how many times do you swear that you'll never love again?

How many lonely, sleepless nights
How many lies, how many fights
And why would you want to put yourself through all that again?

"Love is pain," I hear you say
Love has a cruel and bitter way
Of paying you back for all the faith you ever had in your brain

How could it be that what you need the most
Can leave you feeling just like a ghost?
You never want to feel so sad and lost again

One day you could be looking
Through an old book in rainy weather
You see a picture of her smiling at you
When you were still together
You could be walking down the street
And who should you chance to meet
But that same old smile that you've been thinking of all day

You can turn the clock to zero, honey
I'll sell the stock, we'll spend all the money
We're starting up a brand new day

Turn the clock all the way back
I wonder if she'll take me back
I'm thinking in a brand new way

Turn the clock to zero, sister
You'll never know how much I missed her
Starting up a brand new day

Turn the clock to zero, boss
The river's wide, we'll swim across
Started up a brand new day

It could happen to you - just like it happened to me
There's simply no immunity - there's no guarantee
I say love's such a force - if you find yourself in it
And sometimes no reflection is there

Baby wait a minute, wait a minute
Wait a minute, wait a minute
Wait a minute, wait a minute

Turn the clock to zero, honey
I'll sell the stock, we'll spend all the money
We're starting up a brand new day

Turn the clock to zero, Mac
I'm begging her to take me back
I'm thinking in a brand new way

Turn the clock to zero, boss
The river's wide, we'll swim across
Started up a brand new day

Turn the clock to zero buddy
Don't wanna be no fuddy duddy
Started up a brand new day

I'm the rhythm in your tune
I'm the sun and you're the moon
I'm a bat and you're the cave
You're the beach and I'm the wave
I’m the plow and you’re the land
You're the glove and I'm the hand
I'm the train and you're the station
I'm a flagpole to your nation - yeah

Stand up all you lovers in the world
Stand up and be counted every boy and every girl
Stand up all you lovers in the world
Starting up a brand new day

I'm the present to your future
You're the wound and I’m the suture
You're the magnet to my pole
I'm the devil in your soul
You're the pupil I'm the teacher
You're the church and I'm the preacher
You're the flower I'm the rain
You're the tunnel I'm the train

Stand up all you lovers in the world
Stand up and be counted every boy and every girl
Stand up all you lovers in the world
Starting up a brand new day

You're the crop to my rotation
You're the sum of my equation
I'm the answer to your question
If you follow my suggestion
We can turn this ship around
We'll go up instead of down
You're the pan and I'm the handle
You're the flame and I'm the candle

Stand up all you lovers in the world
Stand up and be counted every boy and every girl
Stand up all you lovers in the world
We're starting up a brand new day

Nowadays… A passage peppered with commas — which in the past would have indicated painstaking and authoritative editorial attention — smacks simply of no backbone. People who put in all the commas betray themselves as moral weaklings with empty lives and out-of-date reference books. (Truss, 2004, p. 97–98)

I suspect Truss doesn't know how to use commas.

"It's a pity there's not you in class today."

One of my students wrote that to me the day I missed class. I just noticed it when I was going through my old emails.

I got my evaluations back today- they ask the students "what could be done to improve this class?" One of them wrote, "Get a new instructor."

IT IS GRANTED!! Not because of that comment, but because of a scheduling conflict. Anyway I'm out of grammar for the summer- maybe forever . . . who knows?

On a scale of 7 to 1, 1 being "No, never" and 7 being "Yes, Always" they were asked how friendly I was, I got one 1, one 3, one 4, one 5, eleven 6s and eight-teen 7s.

WOO-HOO!

One student suggested that we exercise in grammar class.

SERIOUSLY? I'm so out of grammar class if we have to do calisthenics.

One student suggested that the electives last "more long time."

One student really liked that I taught grammar in grammar class. Yes, indeed.

One student was asked what she liked about speaking class she said, "We can speak too much." That's good . . . right?

I dreamed pudding told me he was going sky diving. I questioned him about it because although I don't know how much it costs, it sounds expensive, not to mention dangerous. That was the whole of the dream. He said he was going, I questioned it and it was over.
I don't dream about him much any more, although the other night I dreamed he had a magic ram, horse and elephant he kept in his bag . . . I think however that was a WoW overload.
I wondered if the skydiving meant something, so I looked it up.

Skydiving

To dream that you are skydiving, represents your high ideals. Sometimes you may need to compromise these ideals and be more realistic of your expectations.

He's not good at compromise.

And I know it was me who called it over but
I still wish you'd fought me ‘til Your dying day
Don’t let me get away

Cause I can’t wait to figure out what’s wrong with me
So I can say 'this is the way that I used to be
There’s no substitute for time
Or for the sadness

John Mayer "Split screen sadness"

I’ve been working on will power and self control. One issue at a time for me. There are plenty to last me a life time. The one I’m working on now is selfishness. I think I am by nature selfish. I think most people are actually. Some people aren’t, they give away everything, share everything, but most, like me, I think, have a harder time. We have to work on it. Some of us have to work on it more than others. It’s big things and little things that tempt us to selfishness. When we break a candy in half, we want the bigger piece. When it’s time to share the cost of an event, we think we should have to pay less. When it comes to gifts; we try to get away cheap.

For me I suppose it comes from growing up poor. There wasn’t much to share, and I wasn’t usually asked to share, as everyone knew there was so little to go around. Other people often volunteered to pay for things for me because they knew I didn’t have anything.

You would think that with all the generosity I was shown I would have learned to show it myself. Some bad habits die hard though. Now I’m making the efforts in small things and large. When I break a piece of candy I make a note to give away the bigger piece. When it come to paying my part I try to give a little extra, I try to remember to offer more than I think is “fair.” When I feel put upon, I try to ask for another opinion. I don’t always succeed, but at least I’m trying to change a bad habit. I think that’s what I need to do to grow and learn and become better. I want to be better, no matter the cost. I know the reward will be greater.

I was just about to eat when I got this text, "Nah . . . I have time . . . Just not interested today."

I have time to talk to you about your wounded heart and your hurt feelings. I have time to explain myself to you, I have time to tell you how I feel hurt or angry or dissapointed. Yeah, I have time, I'm just not interested in talking to you about it today. Maybe tomorrow when I can deny I ever had a feeling, when I can rationalize it all. Maybe tomorrow or the next day when I am really bored, maybe then it will be more interesting to me.

I understand, and I wasn't really hungry anyway. It's not important enough for your time I guess. I just wrote and called and texted and left a message. Over kill? I guess I'm just too interested.

http://www.oneishy.com/personality/results/2e6cd3e0f

Personality: Phlegmatic Melancholy

Melancholy Strength:9 Weakness:6 38%

Phlegmatic Strength:9 Weakness:9 45%

Sanguine Strength:2 Weakness:2 10%

Choleric Strength:0 Weakness:3 8%

I feel really ugly.
Not like "OH my God! My eyebrows are enourmous!"
or "I have a million zits!" ugly.
I mean ugly on the inside.
I also know that I shouldn't feel this way.
I'm loved and I'm forgiven.
I know.
There is a plan for me.
I know.
There are signs and wonders and beauty all around.
I know.
How to stop a feeling?

second person


Break Your Heart Lyrics

The weather here has been erratic to say the least. I don’t recall it being so mutable in the past. One day it is sunny, balmy winds- humid. The next day it is snowing, storming, gale force winds and 20-40 degrees colder. The next day, back to sunny and warm. Tuesday, I was out with Buzz and I saw this little sky blue and white parakeet. He was happy as the little larks he was hanging out with. Well, I don’t know who he was hanging out with, swallows, larks whatever. He was happy.

That night it stormed, a cold wind blew in and the temperatures dropped about 20 degrees. When I took Buzz out the next morning there was the little parakeet. He was not quite so happy as he had been the day before. He was all wet and muddy. His wings were clipped, so he could only fly a few feet at a time. All wet and muddy and tired, he could hardly get off the ground. I knew one little dog for sure who would love to eat him, and there are plenty of other dogs and cats in the neighborhood who would like a tasty sky blue snack.

I, I, who does not like birds, I went to rescue him from the paws of death. I think saying I don’t like birds isn’t quite right. I like them when they are outside flying around doing birdie things. I don’t like them in houses, when they are too close to me, and certainly not to touch me! It’s approximately the same way I feel about lizards. I know they won’t hurt me, I don’t mind if other people have them as pets, but I don’t want them near me and I certainly don’t want to touch them. They creep me out.

There I was, never-the-less, with a five ounce monster in my hand. It was trying to bite me! I took it home and put it in a shoe box. It waited until it was dry, then escaped and flew around my living room pooping on my stuff. Stupid bird. I squealed a few times and finally trapped it back in the shoe box. I took it to the pet store and got a cage and some food. That afternoon I put up some “Did you lose your parakeet?” signs.

I had it at school with me so I showed some of my students. They said he was pretty. One girl said, “I like it, it’s pretty, but I don’t like, what is it? There, not piss . . .” She pointed to the bottom of the cage. I said, “It’s poop.”
She said, “Poop? P-U-P?”
I said, “Poop P-O-O-P”
Another girl walked up and said, “Oh! Is that his name? Poop! Hello Poop! So cute name!”
I said, “No, that’s not . . . uh- ok yeah, his name is Poop.”

Buzz is mesmerized by Poop. Buzz is ready to give up on the neighbor’s cat in favor of Poop. Poop twitches a lot when Buzz gets too close.

I went on a “chocolate walk” with the woman’s group from the church I’ve been attending. We went to a too-cute-oh-my-wait-I-just-vomited-a-little-in-my-mouth shopping center. Useless over priced antiques, even more useless, even more over priced handicrafts, even more useless, even more overpriced jewelry- you get the idea. But, each store was giving away chocolate. Some of them were having drawings for other chocolate items. It seems I have won some Neiman Marcus chocolate potato chips. I’ll have to go pick those puppies up!

Speaking of puppies, I bought a Kosher Hot Dog. It is so stinking easy to amuse me.

Late we went to some country chicken place to eat, where thousands of chickens must be scarified to satisfy the needs for the MOUNTAINS of chicken that those adorable little waitresses cart out on their gigantic platters. We had chicken, we did the Hokey-Pokey (like you do at a chicken restaurant) we turned ourselves around and went home.

Before we left, however, some of use showed each other our purchases. I of course showed the Kosher Hot Dog. Someone asked if it was Charlie Chaplin. I don’t recall ever seeing Charlie Chaplin in forelocks and a prayer shawl, but “Uh- no . . . it’s a Kosher Hot Dog.” Texas- honestly have you people ever seen Jews?!

One woman showed us her new $79.00 shirt. I almost choked on my mashed potatoes. Another woman showed us her sheep. It was just a little folk-looking carved wooden black sheep. I said, “Oh, that’s nice.” She said, “Yes, I have colored sheep at home.” I did that thing where I turn my head to the side and squint my eyes in an effort to get my brain in the exact right position to understand that kind of statement. Then she “explained,” “I always see sheep decorations that are white or pastel, but not colored, so I just had to get this one.” I was thinking, ‘Aren’t pastels colors? Or does she mean she has BLACK sheep?’

I don’t know why but, because the term ‘colored’ referring to black (people or sheep) is so old fashioned it has a negative connotation and can be derogatory. It’s okay to say ‘people of color’ so maybe she should have said she has ‘sheep of color’ at home. Of course my first thought was a rainbow of sheep wandering a field contently.

I like the red one.

Just in terms of allocation of time resources, religion is not very efficient. There's a lot more I could be doing on a Sunday morning. - Bill Gates

Wow- either Bill's a funny guy, or he's not as smart as we all thought.

I have a student who is really into Sherlock Holmes. The thing is she has a difficult time actually pronouncing Sherlock Holmes. Nobody can understand her when she starts talking about him. She's brought him up several times, but we are still always baffled as she trys to expain what she wants us to know. She gets so upset when we can't understand. I know in her language she is very articulate.

Sometimes I know how she feels- I want to be articulate and understood, but sometimes it's Sherlock Holmes for me too.

I saw this book called "Knitted Babes." The dolls on the cover were severely ugly. They looked like tiny spaghetti-legged zombies with cute clothes. I thought about it for a while- would I make one? What would I do with it if I did? Could I make them look cuter than the ones on the cover? Why are those painfully thin babies appealing to me at all? Well I don’t know, I was going to put it back when the whole gay episode distracted me. I decided to get it and get out of there.

So I got home and I looked in my stash for some flesh colored yarn- the first I came to was light brown- well that’s fine, that’s what color most people in the world are anyway. I made up the bits. Then I looked online to see if anyone else had made one and posted a picture- maybe they had made a cuter one. I found a page full of the little knitted monstrosities. They were all ugly- some of them must have been beaten with an ugly stick. Or as my grandmother used to say, “They fell from the top of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

That makes me laugh. HA!

I saw one cute one, her name was “Alice full of Malice.” I saw someone had made an alien doll- he was pretty cute too. It didn’t inspire me to put the bits together quite yet.

http://knittedbabes.blogspot.com/

I decided she would certainly look better with clothes, so I should have some clothes ready for her once I put her together. I made her a little ballet leotard. But I used a fatter yarn, so the leotard was too big, so now I’ve started another brown doll, with a different yarn, to fit the clothes which were too big to fit the first doll.

Yes, I’ve always known my logic and sequence were off. Why not make clothes to fit the doll I already made? Don’t know. I also started making an alien doll. I should have quite a little collection of ugly dolls one day. Watch out you might get one!

In my class a few weeks agao we were reading a short story about a girl who had moved from some tropical island to New York City in January. Quite a shock for that girl. In the story she talks about how she got up in the morning and although it had been cold the night before, she saw the sun was out so she figured it must be warm out. She put on a "gay summer dress." She was shocked when she learned that it was possible for it to be cold and the sun be out at the same time.

(Geeze-Louise-Can it be cold and the sun shining brightly!)

So my students all looked at me like something was amiss. Then one of them said, "Why is her dress gay?"
I said,"It doen't mean homosexual, it means bright and happy."
Student: "Why do we call gay people gay?"
Before I could say anything another student said, "Guurl! You know! It's because they're so HAPPY!" in a very stereo-typical, limp wristed kind of way.
The first student said, "OH!" (this really made sense to her)"That IS why!"
I said, "Ok, yes, that is why."

That started the "gay-week" at UD ELP. Everybody in my class was gay. They walked around telling the other students they were gay- which really didn't always have the effect they wanted. My students are the highest level so they knew what one definitions of gay was, the other students didn't know what "gay" meant one way or the other.

Oh they thought they were funny.

That weekend I was in the bookstore looking at a book about knitting ugly baby dolls. More on that later, but as I was sitting there I saw two sisters walk by, a teenager and a 9 or 10 year old. The teen said to her sister, "You are so gay!" The pre-teen said, "No I'm not!- wait, what does gay mean?"
The big sister said, "It means you like boys!" I don't know what that explanation was about- maybe she didn't want to get into gritty details . . .
The little sister said, "Oh, ok- then I AM gay! Hey everyone!" (shouting) "I'm gay! But at least I'm not lesbian!" I couldn't see them anymore, but whatever reaction the big sister had must have fueled the excitment of the little sister who then spent the next 10 minutes telling everyone in the store that she was gay and asking if they were gay too. It was funny for about 5 minutes, after that I wanted to strangle both of them.

On Monday I told my students about it and they thought that was one of the funniest things the'd every heard.

Many guys seem to be looking for a woman who, if she exists, was snatched up as a precious resource long ago. Slender, toned and curvy- to be honest; if she is one, she is probably not the other. Most likely she will either be slender and toned, OR curvy. You know that, right? Guys want her to be into sports; watching, playing- watching him playing . . . They think a picture of him with a bunch of Hooter girls will make all the rest of us envy his position in the universe. Not so.

I am a woman. I like things women like, I do things women do. As unique as we each are- I’m ready to admit that men are men and women are women, I like it that way. Call me old fashioned.

I like romantic comedies. I smell the flowers each time I pass by in the grocery store. I read fantasy novels, classic literature and once every few years I’ll read a romance or trashy novel just to make sure I still don’t like them. I could knit you a sweater, but I probably won’t. I’m bad at math and logic, but my common sense and perceptiveness are excellent. I like to use words with precise meanings. I grew up in PA. I’ve lived in the south for more than half my life, but I retain some basic tenets of my upbringing: “ten” and “tin” are pronounced completely differently, “oil” has two syllables “five” has one syllable, and you shouldn’t judge people because of what color they are, what religion they are or what their occupation is. I’ve picked up as much Southern etiquette as my Yankee brain can manage. I am eclectic. My dog knows seven tricks and will attempt to do them all simultaneously for the right treat, me too. I have a short attention span, but I am patient when I need to be. I am a Christian. I like the idea of Post modernity. I love to travel. I crack myself up- I want someone to make me laugh. I don’t eat meat, but it’s not because of animal rights. I think we need to work on human rights before we spend too much energy on animal rights. I read my Bible regularly. I know how to say, “Go away fat cow.” in Norwegian. I know how to say, “There’s a fish on my head” in French. I’m bad at learning languages- but I like to try. I’m bad at drawing, but I like to try. I drive a car which is older than my college-age students. I like it. I teach grammar- my grammar isn’t so great. My spelling is terrible. Sometimes I wonder, “What would Jesus do?” But then I don’t think he would do what most other people think he would do. I’m a Virgo, and I think that if God could create the Universe- he could also tell us a little about ourselves as he was writing out the plans in the stars. I collect turtles, not live ones. I listen to all kids of music. I have a great desire to see Niagara Falls. I love the Lord of the Rings books and movies. I play WoW. If I were reading this I would have already stopped- see short attention span above. To conclude, I am not toned or slender- curvy yes- large curves. I have a waist and easily identifiable breeder hips and breasts. I would say “full figured” but that seems to be a euphemism for morbidly obese. Let’s say Rubenesque. I’m looking for a man who is a Christian all the time, not just on Sundays.

"And the king kissed Absalom." 2 Samual 14:33

Let us have the courage to forgive one another, even when it seems a dangerous thing to do.

I don't know how I ever survived in Pennsylvania. I was just outside in the Texas snow for about 5 minutes and I nearly died! Not really, but it was freakishly cold for March in Texas, and it is snowing, and my back did spasim and tighten up like surely death was upon me.

Notice my sad little dented up car.

Cooties

I was infected before I got my shot, now I have to live with it daily.

Things are out of order
My stars are misaligned
My planets are in retrograde

My psychic powers aren't working hard enough
or maybe too hard

It's effecting my self esteem
and my little dog

I need a prophet.

Virgo and Virgo Ascendant: All Mercury retrograde cycles particularly affect you in terms of your own body language and personal manner (you may feel that others misunderstand you)

In general, Mercury rules thinking and perception, processing and disseminating information and all means of communication, commerce, education and transportation. By extension, Mercury rules people who work in these areas, especially people who work with their minds or their wits: writers and orators, commentators and critics, gossips and spin doctors, teachers, travellers, tricksters and thieves.

Mercury retrograde gives rise to personal misunderstandings; flawed, disrupted, or delayed communications, negotiations and trade; glitches and breakdowns with phones, computers, cars, buses, and trains. And all of these problems usually arise because some crucial piece of information, or component, has gone astray, or awry.

It is therefore not wise to make important decisions while Mercury is retrograde, since it is very likely that these decisions will be clouded by misinformation, poor communication and careless thinking. Mercury is all about mental clarity and the power of the mind, so when Mercury is retrograde, these intellectual characteristics tend to be less acute than usual, as the critical faculties are dimmed. Make sure you pay attention to the small print!

Mon, Jan 28-Mon, Mar 10

This could explain alot for me in the last few weeks, and a few other Virgos I know.

Sorry, it seems I will be out of order until March 10.

Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this, that you are dreadfully like other people.
- James Russell Lowell

I had a stressful weekend. (waaaa!)

I decided to get new tires, been needing them forever. On my way to get the tires I was in an accident. Wow! It was really scary! I've been in three accidents to speak of now. (Two in the past 6 months!) This one was scary #2 damange #3. I was driving down 360 and I looked down for a second- my car was out of alignment from the previous accident and I drifted into the next lane and bumped the back of the car in the next lane. It was totally my fault. She moved over and pulled off. I freaked out and started swearving, freaked out swearving is very bad on the highway. It's all in slow motion. I knew I was freaked out swearving, but I couldn't stop myself. I spun out, hit the retaining wall and stopped, facing oncoming traffic. (I was on the shoulder.)

A few people stopped to ask if I needed an ambulence. I wasn't hurt, Buzz didn't even fall off the seat. I told them I was fine and to go check on the people in the other car. They were fine too. In this accident, as with accident #1 scary /#1 damage I feel really blessed. It could have been a million times worse. I feel like God has protected me many times, and in these two times specifically it was like a physical presence beside me and keeping me calm and safe, and my little dog too!

Jesus loves me this I know.

Both cars were drivable, the police didn't even come. Of course, since I have all the parts for the body of my car except one, that one I don't have was the part damaged. The same dang fender I screwed up last time!

I decided to get the tires any way. Since I was in the area I decided to call pk. I never saved her name in my new phone, so I started scrolling through to find her number. I rememberd thinking that her number was a really easy one to remember, so I should recognize it when I scrolled thought the old numbers. I found a number that had a lot of 7s in it. I thought, "This must be it." So I called it. That was not it. That was the Tax Man. He let it go to voice mail. I did not leave a message.

I hung up.
I then proceeded to say some bad words.
Then I found pk's real number, which happens to have a lot of 9s in it, and saved her name to my phone.

I'm hoping that he just missed the call didn't know it was me and is simply not one of those curious monkeys who has to call back missed calls whether he knows the number or not.

Or- he knew it was me and scorned my existance as he ignored the call.

Either way, fine by me- I think if he would have answered I might have had another accident.

I wonder if Big Brother is still watching?

I watched a movie called "Children of Men" last weekend. Disappointing. I was lead to believe it had Gillian Anderson in it- really it had Julianne Moore- wrong red-head.
Some of the "standout" moments seemed too forced to me. It was about a future when women can no longer have babies. Well, with a title like "Children of Men" I was hoping for some kind of reproductive breakthough, but there were not children of men, there was one child, and that was of a woman. It should have been called, "Child of Woman- without Gillian Anderson."

Then I watched "Equilibrium." It was about a future where people are not allowed to have feelings. Well, heck, that made me feel angry. You can't have a human society with out feelings. We would all be apathetic and lay around and do nothing and all starve as we lay in our own filth.
Besides, the characters who weren't supposed to be having feelings were having feelings all the time. Anxiety, Ambition, Agression, isn't Apathy a feeling? Maybe it's a state. Those are just some of the 'A' feelings- it went on and on. I'm sure it would have been better if described in a book. Maybe "Children of Men" would have too.

Maybe my life would be better if described in a book.

"Deo Vindice"
Ironic.
So said the South in "The War of Northern Agression."
And I'm a Yankee.

May the LORD make his face shine upon you Anonyme!

"The next day an evil spirit from God came forcefully upon Saul." I Samual 18:10

This I also found strangely comforting.

Pudding called this morning to rant about seeing his character evoked on my blog-smart ass. He threatened to sic his gimpy little dog on me if I mentioned his name. I hardly ever put real names here, not to save myself from gimpy dogs or other threats intended to intimidate me, but for respect. And I also don’t write things about people that I don’t want them to read. That would be dumb on the internet now wouldn’t it?

I used a full name once- just because it seemed right, and that was not met with threats, but an answer to an old question and a kind word. I’m glad I did that.

Pudding said the lesson here, is don’t tell people that I’ve written about them. I say, more likely is, don’t assume people will read what has been written correctly, or with any sense of humor about it.

I’ve been told and I suppose it’s true that I run through the decision making process and my range of emotions right quick. Well, I have read half of Blink to my credit. Some people think this is a bad thing, (my quick processes, not reading Blink) like I haven’t really thought things out and/or I haven’t experienced enough of an emotion. I say not bad, just different, get over it.

I think I’ve recovered from my sadness. It was more than my promised one minute of mourning. I’ve smoothed the wrinkles out of my carpet, and I’m almost feeling back to my white-plastic- ball-with-a-yellow-centered-daisy self. I shall be more cautious.

As the feminists do not sing- Onward Christian Soldier!

I’m feeling sick. I could get ulcers from all this!

Well, probably not- about once or twice a year I work myself up into a big stress ball. Usually it happens in September, this must be my alternative time this year.

I had a dream last night. It was somewhat comforting. In the dream I talked to my stressor and while there was no forgiveness, there was at least civility.

I believe in dreams- they show what we want, what we expect, what we’ve been thinking about before we go to sleep, and sometimes, what God wants us to know.

I know if most people heard, “God told me xyz in a dream” they would think, “Okay loony-tune.” But I believe it, it can be.

I'm still sad. I've talked to a few people about it. A girl friend supported me and said the other was wrong. A guy friend said, the other was wrong, but maybe not as wrong as I had thought.

It's good to get other opinions.

I understand a little.

Still I'm sad to think that somebody out there misunderstood me so much, and as a result believes that I'm such a bad person.

So, I acted badly, but not intentionally. Most people don't understand this, but I believe in apologizing not only for things you have done wrong, but for things that other perceived wrongly. I made someone feel bad. Now I feel bad for doing that.

Under my hard candy coating- I've very sensitive,
and sad.

I don't even think ice-cream will help.

I feel really sad. It seems I’ve done something terrible and I don’t get to explain or apologize. I’ve been accused of defamation. To say the least I suppose- insult to the point of calling in lawyers and telling me I’m crazy and mean and inconsiderate.

I feel bad because I don’t understand how things went so wrong. I feel angry because I asked to please let me explain myself, but this person’s anger and hurt was so deep that wasn’t possible. I wasn’t even given a change to apologize.

I feel betrayed because although this person claimed to be a Christian, there was no charity in the reaction I was given. I understand that this person believed I have not displayed charity by my actions either, but communications are often misunderstood, and to give an opportunity to explain, apologize and forgive (if not forget) is a basic tenet of my belief system.

I’m sorry. I never intended to hurt or insult you.

This kind of misunderstanding happened to me once before. Then there was far more involved than what I understood at the time. It was bitter for me, but eventually the other person accepted my apology and also apologized. The break never healed completely, but we have no ill feelings about one another any more. That is Christianity, if not in perfection, than acted out in our own human, imperfect imitation of Christ.

I’m not perfect. Communication is not perfect. Interpretation is not perfect.

We never understand as much as we think we understand.

I told a few people about Fat Sal. What brings Fat Sal up? My intense dislike for mustaches. I suppose Fat Sal is a part of my childhood. Everyone has their stories, I have Fat Sal. I have Fat Pam too, but she's another story all together.

Again, looked in the archives, did find one mention of Fat Sal, but not by name, only be reputation.

Fat Sal the molester- why I don’t like men with mustaches:

by Shannon D. Peterson.

I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood. I mean, it wasn’t inner city Chicago tenement slums, but it wasn’t the suburbs either. One day my friend and I were standing on the sidewalk when we saw a beat up old Caddy rolling our way. Maroon- grey primer, mid seventies model with pointy corners and enough room in the trunk for a peck or two of kidnapped, molested children. We were about 8 years old.

Our discussion on whether or not to draw the hopscotch board on that stretch of sidewalk stopped as that Caddie crouched and crawled toward us. The prey could smell the predator. We looked at each other, curious as to how the next moments would unfold. We knew every car in the project- we knew there was no reason for strangers to come through. We knew, although I doubt we could have expressed it, that we were being stalked.

We were impetuous children- reckless as we took in all the details. The car was much like all the other cars in the lots around us. Standard issue low income- beat up and noisy. The man was slovenly, fat, dirty and greasy. His moustache drooped flaccidly over his lip.

“What’re your names?”
“Jenny.” I lied
My friend became Shelly.
“You girls want to go for a ride? Get some ice cream?”
“No.”

He didn’t get out of the car, but he was suddenly too close.
How fast can a fat man move?

We turned and ran to the park. Screaming and laughing at the swings, we forgot about the fat man and the car as soon as we stopped telling each other how gross he was, and giggling over our new names.

That night my mom asked me what we had done all day. I told her about the man who talked to us. She said, “What is I big red car?”
I said, “Yes.”
She asked, “What it a big fat man?”
I said, “Yes.”
She said, “Did he have a moustache?”
I said, “Yeah!” (How do moms know everything?!)

She said, “That’s Fat Sal. Don’t ever talk to him again, and tell your friends to never talk to him. He’s a child molester.”
I said, “Oh, okay.”

Only later did I wonder why I accepted that explanation without question at 8 years old. Why my mother gave it to an 8 year old and why my mother knew exactly who I was talking about when I said “a man talked to me” are other questions I later considered.

Japanese Toilet Training for Kids (English Subtitled)

happy wee-wee! happy poo-poo!

I feel like I've written about this before, but I can't find any reference in my archives,
so here I go again, stop reading if you’ve already heard about this.

There is a cologne that really affects more than just my sense of smell, you know what I mean? I don’t know what it is called. I first started noticing it at the end of high school. My high school boyfriend wore it. It smells clean, like soap, but better. I smell it once every few months, and I just smelled it again a few weeks ago.

I was at school and I walked down the stairwell and stopped at the foot of the stairs and started looking around- I could smell it. I looked around the corner and out the door, but it was only the cologne left, not the man.

I’m not sure why I always look for the man who is wearing it. The time before that, I smelled it at the grocery store. I walked past the frozen food isle and I smelled it. I immediately turned my cart around thinking, “Maybe I need some frozen food after all.” When I pinpointed the man with the cologne I realized he was a middle aged, paunchy, balding man wearing khaki shorts and black knee socks. To top off his look he also had blue and orange tattooed flames peeking out from between his shorts and his socks.

Unbelievably, I stood there innocently looking at the fish sticks (which I would never buy in a million years) and taking deep breaths for a few more seconds before he moved on. I thought about following him- but I came to my senses in time to go on about my own grocery shopping business.

Here is what I think about this cologne:

It must be semi-popular as it has been in production all these years.
It must be moderately expensive. If it were cheap I think I would smell it on more people, If it were crazy expensive I don’t think my high school boyfriend or tattooed-knee-guy would be wearing it.
It smells clean.
When I smell it I automatically start following the smell.

Imagine the power a man I was actually attracted to would have wearing that cologne.

Maybe its better I don’t know the name of it. It could get me in trouble.

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/asection/la-fg-christian5feb05,1,2056156.story

I lived in Islamabad for almost a year. I saw these slums at a distance, but I was told they were too dangerous to enter alone. Nobody wanted to go with me. They were in every way different from the rest of the capital city. I lived in an enormous marble house near a mosque and a market, where many of the affluent Muslim citizens of the city resided. In contrast the Muslim, Afghan refugees I worked with lived in concrete apartment buildings with tiny, dingy apartments. In even greater contrast the Pakistani Christians- people I am called to care for, they lived in tents and shacks made of cardboard and corrugated metal sheets. They were squatters in their homeland.

In the middle of one group's suffering it's easy to forget another group's long term issues and persecution. My eyes were certainly taken off my brothers and sisters. I regret that more fully now.

Yesterday in class, the gerunds and infinitives were even boring me to death. I switched to prepositions, but it wasn't enough- I had to get candy and dancing involved.

I gave them a gumdrop and a toothpick for each correct answer on the worksheet. Then I told them to build something from the gumdrops and tooth picks. They built a house (with a satillite) a church, and a rollar coaster. They also built some very thin people and dogs. That was a pretty good diversion. Then we still had 40 minutes left in class, and one student wanted to leave early- I said "No way man!"
He said, "What if I dance for you, then can we leave early?"
Now that is a pretty good trade off- yes indeed.

I agreeded that I would let the whole class go 10 minutes early if he got in the front of the room and danced for 30 seconds.

He finally agreed and got up and did one of those Russian squat and kick dances. It was awesome- I should have gotten a picture! It was harder than he thought it would be, so he was huffing and puffing by the time it was over.

Ah- grammar, candy and dancing. It was a good day.

Drat! My bread machine pooped out. I've ruined three loaves now, it's not my bad measuring, it's not the bad yeast, it's the bad machine. Now I'm going to have to go pay $20 at Salvation Army for a "new" one! I suppose I could look into an actual new one. Nah!

I'm not making fun of my students, I am enjoying them. A quote for all to enjoy.

"Movies are the real entertaining shows for the humans. I also like movies. "

On a different note, my stupid little dog is going around the house licking all the cob webs out from under the cabinents. Then, of course they get stuck on his nose, so he has to sit there and try to rub them off with his paws.

On a similar note, he keeps falling off the back of the sofa and landing on my ficus.

I had my students writing poetry today because we were studying journalism. Once I thought through the chain of what led me from journalism to poetry, I realized I’m an awesome teacher!

Or a really scattered one- I choose awesome.

Our chapter is about how journalism and news is shaped by the powers that own the media corporations. To show them the difference between good reporting and bad reporting I brought in an old copy of the “Weekly World News.” I had them “analyze” stories with headlines like, “How to tell if you’ve been abducted by aliens” and “Man electrocuted to death by a lightning bug.”

I recalled in the movie “So I married an ax murderer” the main character thought his wife might be an ax murder because of an article he read in a tabloid. The main character was also a poet. I thought, “If I throw in poetry this week, we can watch “So I married an as murder” in class and it will be considered a tie-in for the unit we just finished!”

So- poetry in class today. I had them do Haikus first. I had them each write one. Most of them were too shy to share what they had written, so I told them to only write the first line. Then I told them to trade papers, so nobody would be embarrassed to hear their poem because each poem was written by three people.

My favorite Haiku:

My pretty meadow
Pretty pretty meadow wow!
I really want it.

Then I had them write a four line “semi structured” poem, it had three dependant clauses and one independent clause.

My favorite clause poems:

Even you get hurt,
Even you are crazy,
Even I am still writing even,
In the end, I’m a crazy person.

But there’s more:

Although I have good personalities,
But I am not sure about me,
Although I hate myself,
I’m a perfect LADY in the world!

One more:

Because I have to go to restroom,
So I left you in the trash,
And, sorry, you have to wait for me,
See you tomorrow at the same time.

They crack me up.

On Sunday I randomly (well, I picked by location) picked a church off the internet yellow pages. I went to Northgate Baptist Church (I think.) Also chosen on account that it started at 10:45, and it was 10:15 when I started looking. I pulled into the parking lot and wondered if I had written down the wrong time. There were three cars in the lot. I went in and there were three people in the congregation- no there were about 20- but seated in a church building intended for 200 it felt awkward.

There was a piano and an organ, but no piano player or organ player. The Hymns (not repetitive praise songs thank you) were led by a 70 something year old man singing to prerecorded music. The preacher was middle aged and slightly unorganized. The people were friendly, and about 10 people came in late- later than me.

At the end of the sevice I asked if there was any literature about the church I could take with me. They asked if I wanted Sunday School literature. I said,"No, I meant something like church history, or affiliation." They gave me Sunday School literature. It did have the Doctrines of the church on the inside cover.

Then out of the blue, this old guy (70-something song leader) tells me that they are a "closed communion" church. I said, "Oh- ok." But I guess I looked sufficiently surprised that he felt he needed to explain.
He said, "We believe only church members should take communion."
I said, "Do you mean only Christians, or only Baptists or only people who belong to this church?"

He meant people who belonged to that church- and he gave me some blah-blah about disciples and apostles and what Jesus wanted for church membership rules- which was all kinds of out of order and nonsensical. He said, "I'm not real smart about these things, but this is what our church believes." I just said, "Okay." I was willing to leave it at that, but then he said, "Well, I hope you agree with me."

I didn't want to slap down the whole "Bible College and Seminary" card, so I just said, "Actually, I don't agree with that because I travel and move alot, and if I only took communion at the church were I was a member, I don't think I'd get to take communion very often."

He kept talking as though he were going to "convert" me to closed communion, and I kept thinking, "Is this why this church only has 20 people? Am I not good enough for your crackers and grape juice? Does Jesus really require all this paper work?"

Finally I said,"I understand your beief, I just don't agree." Then he said, "Well, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but your belief doesn't have any Biblical support." It's a good thing he was an old guy- my believe doesn't have any Biblical support?! What he told me was supposed to pass for support of his belief? I'm thinking not so much.

Back in the day I spent alot of time thinking and discussing about communion- and one day I shall record all my shiney little thoughts on the topic-but now I must be off to bed with me. May I not dream about that little old man and his closed communions.

So, this past weekend- first I went to this radio station survey- they called me a few weeks ago and asked me if I listen to country music. I said, "Yeah, sometimes." So they said they would give me $50 if I came and did this survey. I said, "Heck yeah!" I have done much more for much, much less.

There were about 100 people at the survey. They played about 5 seconds of 500 songs. I marked down on a bubble sheet if it was F- favorite L- liked N-neutral D-don't like, H-heard too much or U-unfamiliar or something like that- as if I can keep all that straight, I've slept since then!

It wasn't bad- but it did take an hour and a half.

Then I took my $50 and went to Joann Fabrics and bought just one skein of yarn.

Then I went to California Pizza Kitchen to partake in what I credit as one of the nerdiest things I've ever done.

They called it 'meat space.' or maybe it was 'meet space.' Either way- nerdy. I started playing World of Warcraft and this was a meeting of people who play the game together (but alone, at home in front of the computer) So it was a bunch of people who knew each other by means of magical, imaginary characters. They were all talking in the speacial WoW languge of things still unknown to me. I told one of my co-workers about it and how weird it was, she said, "Don't worry, it will all seem normal if you keep doing it." Yes, and well, that's what I'm afraid of. What convinced me to go? Well it was at California Pizza Kitchen after all! (It's my favorite.)

I even told them I thought attending that meeting was possibly the nerdiest thing ever- one of them tried to convince me dressing up for the Ren. fair was more nerdy- but I wasn't convinced. Then they started talking about Sci-Fi/Fantacy conventions- and told me that if I've never gone/dressed up for one of those, I haven't lived nerdy, haven't even tasted it! Then they started ignoring me and comparing convention stories. WoW.

I was telling my students about the differenct between newspapers and tabloids . . . bat boy came up.

I thought before I started this vacation time that about half way through I would get bored silly and be wishing that work would start again. But- it turns out I’m really good at not working! Yes, I’ve grown. I remember when a month with no money and nothing to do made me crazy as a loon- but now I’m just fine with the situation. I haven’t even done half the things I could have done in this time. It’s a shame.

I did sleep a lot- a real lot. I shouldn’t sleep so much, but it is so easy. I’ve been drawing, knitting, crocheting, I sewed a project or two- watched many episodes of Bones and some Quantum Leap as well. I started playing an online computer role playing kind of game. I didn’t think I’d like that either, but killing imaginary creatures with magic fire balls- it’s good fun.

I tried out some step aerobic videos- awful, just awful. I’ve given up on trying to find a fun exercise to do by myself. There is no such stinking thing! I’ve decided that if I have to exercise alone- I might as well just jog around the block a few times and get it over with.

I’ve thought about making some resolutions, but I know if I had made any I would have already broken them by now- so why bother? My month-a-lusions are a much better system for me. I shall start them next month.

I’ve been out to the craft stores a lot in the past weeks- the yarn and the pencils- they suck me in! I’ve noticed that the Valentine decorations are out. It’s vulgar in a way- I mean the DAY AFTER Christmas there are hearts and flowers everywhere! I’ve also seen shamrocks and eggs- but I’ve gotta take it one at a time, and I really like Valentine’s Day. I’m not sure why- it’s not like I’ve had so many great Valentine’s Day stories to tell, but I suppose I’m an eternal optimist about it.

Potential month-a-lusion #1: write a blog at least three times a week.

Oooh! I got another class this semester! (Yeah me!) That’s some extra bucks for me- and I know just what I want! I’ve been eyeballing this super fancy Nikon SLR digital camera since October. One of my student’s brought his to a school event and his pictures were so beautiful! Not that a camera automatically always takes beautiful pictures regardless of the photographer’s eye- but let’s face it- the chances of amazing pictures are much higher when you do have an awesome camera.

Potential month-a-lustion #2: read my Bible every day

It’s not that hard- but then it’s not that easy either. There are certainly days when I can think of a million other things to do. I’ve been reading Judges. I’m socked that I went to 3 years of Bible college and 2 years of seminary and I still didn’t remember that Samson was a judge. I guess I never actually studied the book of Judges- huh. Of course I know the story, but for some reason I thought he was just a guy who happened to have long hair and be strong . . . ass’s jawbone . . . Philistines . . . I should really pay more attention. It’s embarrassing.