Milly's Muse

Happy Valentine's Day

2012-02-14T10:08:00.009-06:00

Love is in the air -- hope you hear its tune all throughout your day.

Soul

2012-02-12T20:39:00.002-06:00

Music brings more emotion to my life than anything else -- more than reading or art. It is music that touches my soul, brings forth my joy and expresses my pain.

With classical music it is the male singer that can touch me. Sopranos so often seem to "screech." The mezzo voice seems too heavy, too serious. Like most people, it is the tenor that brings the tears to my eyes and that ache in my loins.

I've never much liked rap or R&B or soul or even rock and roll. The groups today scream instead of sing. A little modern music goes a long way and as I age, I actually have no idea who any of the artists are on the topic 100 hits of the day. Adele? Madonna at the Super Bowl? Pink? Those voices are sound puny to me, just raucous noise.

Whitney Houston, though. Hers was a voice that soared through me, left me breathless, sent me flying into the stars. During the '80's it was her voice in the morning that I'd holler with as I drove down the boulevard to Paseo High School. If I turned up the radio, Whitney could fill my car and I was sure she was loud enough to drown out my yowls and caterwauling -- while I released all the passion inside me. It was her voice that would get me through the long, last two years as I watched Paseo disintegrate under me, and my twenty-two year career careen into a sixteen year hiatus.

I bought Whitney's CDs and played them endlessly, singing along as I did the housework or cooked the meals or folded the wash or looked for work. Hubby and I went to her movies and especially liked Body Guard and The Preacher's Wife.

It was Streisand's voice I yearned for until I heard Houston. Then I gave myself over body and soul to her sound.

I know that her life was ground into dust, a misery of bad men and worse drugs. They said her voice had become raspy from drug and alcohol use. Her beauty was being ravaged. But when she opened up those vocal chords -- and used her emotion and talent to tell me that "I believe the children are the future, teach them well and let them lead the way," it was then that I knew I had chosen well in being a teacher, that it truly was the "Greatest Love of All."

Thank you for the music, Whitney. I wish you could have understood just how deeply you touched us.

Recovery

2012-02-06T07:39:00.007-06:00

Hubby and I are on the road to better health and happier days, though we still sleep a lot and he's going to the doctor's more frequently. The evil virus took a toll on his meds, requiring a lot of blood draws and initial concern but now things are looking much better. Last week we seemed to have turned a corner.

I finally made it back into the classroom, though I must admit that every day I'm struggling to raise my head from the pillow and unwrap my body from the fluffy quilt. Still the cough is much better, the lungs are decongesting, and one day my tongue may decide to heal (it feels like the virus burned all my taste buds off).

During the December / January viral fight, trees fell on the phone land lines into the house. The DSL line remained intact, so we didn't worry over much about it. AT&T came out Thursday, traced the problem to the lines they claimed were not theirs to fix -- and then Friday called out somebody else -- who traced the broken line back to the central station. So clearly other folks than us were experiencing problems. By noon today everything should be back in working order. Then the promise has come that these lines will be buried. "We thought we had them all," was the explanation, "but clearly we've missed a couple."

Doggies are doing well. We have purchased massive amounts of food from on-line suppliers for them. Gus and Loie are highly pleased with Grandma's Pot Pie and the Mediterranean casseroles rolling out of the huge boxes that have been delivered.

We have taken in several movies that I wanted to see over Christmas but was too sick to attend. The Descendants was interesting, though I had to nudge Hubby several times to keep him from snoring (and it was his choice to see the movie). TinTin was my choice -- and neither of us thought it was very good. I had been excited about the processes used in making it, but I honestly didn't think that the 3-D effects were as good as the effects in Hugo or in Disney's Christmas Carol from last year. At TinTin we locked the keys in the car and it was a chilly, rainy afternoon, not designed for standing outside waiting for help to arrive. We elected to "dine" at the theater -- hot dogs and fries -- while waiting for the locksmith to come and get us back into the car. It was a fast turn-around, though, and we were driving home within 20 minutes of calling for help.

Hubby has been going to the rehab pool to exercise. The "man-who-hates-water-because- he- thinks-he'll-melt-in-the-pool" has been given a prescription to the snazziest pool in the city. He came home from his first session grinning from ear-t0-ear. "The pool is just beautiful and I can move in it!" he exulted. He's now going every other day to work out. I hear the water is bath-tub warm and they make sure he is comfortable and dry before letting him leave the facility.

We still take a lot of naps and go to bed very early. We watch a ton of bad TV and read magazines that have been piling up by the bed throughout the year. Novels just seem too dense at the moment. Hubby's exercising ("Every muscle in my body is sore!") and I'm going to work every day ("I can't wait to retire!"). The pups like all this laying around (Gussie has re-gained a pound! -- on a 20 pound dog that's a lot!). The weather continues to be unseasonably warm with no snow. The car is running and the house still standing. Spring is coming -- though the groundhog says six more weeks of winter. Slowly we are in recovery mode and returning to a normal life.

So it continues . . .

2012-01-20T16:12:00.005-06:00

All week I've been out of school. I've been gone so much that to return I now need a note from my doctor saying I'm healthy enough to return.

And the doctor has weighed in after I finally gave in WENT to the emergency clinic. (Truth: Hubby dragged me to the clinic under my fierce protest!)

It's viral, not bacterial. This means there's really nothing much any medication can do to cure me. (I knew this going in -- which is why I resisted going to the emergency clinic). It's just requires time and sleep and lots of fluid.

I can't take antihistamines because they wire me to the point where I can't sleep. I can take very intensive cough syrup filled with codeine -- and though I always believed codeine made me sick to my stomach, in cough syrup it gives just enough soothing relief to put me to sleep for 45 minutes or so. I love my new cough syrup! I also now have a prescription nasal spray, which really does next to nothing. I also have my "Cold and Cough" over the counter meds but like the nasal spray doesn't seem to bring much relief.

And I have pink eye -- in both eyes. I look really "cute." I haven't washed my hair in over a week -- and because me head has hurt so badly, I've been pulling on the top of my head so that my hair stands up by itself into a Mohawk. It can't be combed down at this stage. (To go to the clinic I had to find a hat).

However, today, I actually managed to have a coherent thought -- maybe even two. I fixed Hubby a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch along with some heated up stew I'd made last week -- and tried one for myself but the dogs got it when I found swallowing still to much of an effort. I honestly haven't had anything other than Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup in a week. The Diet 7-Up and I keep each other company everywhere I go.

I even managed to recharge the Kindle because it occurred to me I might be able to read tomorrow. So far, for the last two weeks, I've done nothing but watch weird TV -- and since sleeping has been very problematic, I can tell you that at 3:45 a.m. all 287-DISH network channels have nothing on worth watching.

The clinic says they'd seen a lot of cases like mine. Be careful out there -- this "virus" is vicious.

Unbelievable

2012-01-14T19:11:00.003-06:00

At the start of this week I was finally beginning to make a real recovery from the head / chest / congestion / virus that afflicted me all during December and into the start of the new year. However, Hubby came down with it -- something I was dreading due to his congestive heart failure.

He's been sick -- but only as sick as the rest of us who have had it. He had better days than some. He spends every other day mostly sleeping through the day until he can't stand being in the house any longer. Then he ventures forth with the doggies, usually to return bathed in sweat in a couple of hours.

On Monday, I actually felt nearly normal. Tuesday was pretty good, too -- but Tuesday night I felt my throat begin to tighten.

We figure Hubby coughed / sneezed into my tuna salad sandwich and sure enough, I got up on Wednesday with a croaking voice and a miserable sore throat.

I've been telling everyone that this round is not nearly as bad as the one in December. But last night the virus proved me a big fat liar. Today my temperature went just over 101. Last night was so bad, I actually prayed that I could make it through the night. Food will not go down. Even swallowing my favorite diet soda is an effort.

I took Thursday and Friday off from school -- and we have Monday as the Martin Luther holiday, but honestly, I'm beginning to be bereft of any hope that I will be healthy before spring rolls around.

One round was really bad. This round just isn't fair. I only got three days of feeling near normal! (whine) But I don't have the energy to complain much. I just want my head to clear out, my throat to stop hurting, my chest to un-congest, and the sweats to go away.

This is about as bad as anything I can ever remember. Sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. Sick.

Self Soothing

2012-01-05T20:31:00.005-06:00

At 5 a.m. on the fifth of January in the Midwest, even when the weather promises 60 degrees by afternoon, it is cold and dark and dank and miserable. Just putting my feet over the side of the bed caused two little doggies, curled into warm nestled balls next to their respective humans, to lift noses and give evil glares.

But it had to be done. I had laid out the clothes and jewelry the night before, very aware that 5 a.m. decision making is next to impossible. I even had the correct color of socks picked out.

Out the door by 5:45, lunch in hand, I had the school bag rolling along filled with new calendars, file cabinet keys, twenty-five cent boxes of candy canes from the after Christmas grocery run, and bottles of water for chilling.

Hubby, sad and grumpy with the dreaded "virus," only had the car partially warmed and we shivered along for the first five miles, all in the dead dark of a too early morning. He'd cough, I'd cough, and the doggies huddled under my feet by the car heater.

My caseload kids bounced in at 7 for new schedules. I had to explain to seven of them that I hadn't gotten their schedules changed before Christmas but would work on it during the next two days. The counselors had placed them in algebra classes with no support, a scenario destined for failure for everyone, especially those kids with low stress points.

Collaboration in first block was the same as last semester. The instructor told the class just how wonderful he was and that they should "love" him every minute of the 90 minutes they were blessed with his presence. He explained how important he was in the school, as a coach, and in the world at large.

My student aid worked hard second block taking down Christmas decorations and finding the work we had stashed away during the Christmas party, the last day before vacation. I ate half my lunch second block.

Third block was another repetition of first semester, this time the instructor telling everyone how much she loved teaching and working with kids and would never talk this much ever again but that this was a one time thing and she would see that they would get to talk during class and we would do plenty of difficulty work and wouldn't this all be fun and wouldn't we all just learn lots and lots and lots.

Then I ate the second half of my lunch which, because it was already depleted, just wasn't enough food. In Hubby's defense (he puts up the lunches) I had been sending home most of the food he had carefully prepared in December (when I had the dreaded "virus") so he just assumed I wouldn't be ravenous.

Fourth block was quiet. I liked my study hall / work study group. Currently they are a very small number, but as the semester goes on they will begin returning from suspension or find they can't cope in regular classrooms and the staff will begin sending kids my way.

On the way home, I tried to entice Hubby into eating dinner out. But the awful "virus" has completely sapped his appetite, until he realized that I was pining for F O O D, so he stopped at my favorite deli shop, "Planet Sub." They make these great soups and they toast their sandwiches, even when filled with cold cuts. Thinking ahead, I ordered a bowl of soup and a big cookie for lunch tomorrow and a six inch meatball sub with mozzarella cheese for dinner.

After getting out a cold diet soda at home (something had to be relatively healthful), I started in on the sub. But that soup, all warm and steamy, looked so tempting. I knew just a bite wouldn't hurt. Soon the soup was consumed, as was the meatball sub. So I figured why save the cookie?

It took two dinners tonight to soothe this savaged beast. It's good that in six months I'm retiring. That may not be soon enough for my diet, though.

Back in the Grind

2012-01-04T14:51:00.004-06:00

Started back to work today -- workshop for the morning and semester grade submission at our high school during the afternoon.

Mostly just B O R I N G. We had one hour of the three this morning that was productive. At least Hubby sent me off with a big mug of Dunkin Donuts hot chocolate and breakfast croissant which got me through. Nothing in the afternoon was worth getting out of bed for.

Hubby now has the "virus." He's in the bed moaning and coughing. I've suggested the doctor but that fell on the deaf ears.

A small heater has been acquired for the computer room. Last year our little floor heater burned out and Hubby refused to purchase a new one until he could find the exact model he had in mind. Meanwhile I have shivered with frozen fingers and toes and honestly, mostly just stayed away from the computer because I would get so chilled sitting stationary in that back room. But a day ago a little heater finally showed up and Hubby placed it for maximum warmth output. Hallelujah!

Tomorrow school begins in earnest. I bet the kids will be glad to be back.

Looking Forward

2012-01-03T15:18:00.003-06:00

Tomorrow I start back to school. Wednesday is the final day of semester with no students, but it still requires I get out of bed and get dressed and try not to sound as sick as I was before the Christmas break. Truth be told, I'm still really down. I get so tired so quickly -- and every day is a new congested symptom.

But the clothes have been washed. The garbage has been cleared from the kitchen -- all that stuff that one finds left over at the end of the year. All the travel bags have been unpacked except for the carton of gifts we brought home from Houston. Plus sister-in-law found that we had left a number of things behind that she is now forced to mail forward.

Over the holidays, but after Christmas, I met for lunch with a dear friend from Sprint. We sat in the local barbecue joint and shared family stories and remembrances of days past. It was a sweet time -- and I'm so glad that we have actually both made the effort to reconnect after several years silence between us. We had always said that ours was friendship that could withstand separation and time apart and, luckily, that has proved true. She is, frankly, one of the dearest and most interesting people I've ever known.

On Monday morning we met our "concert - going" friends for breakfast and a chance to catch up. For the last seven plus years we have been attending area classical concerts together, usually preceded by a nice dinner together. We have tried to meet up at least once a month, but lately life has been cutting us all off at the knees. One couple is caretaker to the husband's mother, who is 93 and suffering from some serious medical complications that required hospitalization throughout most of December. The other couple has children here in town, the wife is going through a job transition, and the husband, though retired, also has some health complications that sometimes means he is not able to join us for the get-togethers. In fact, he has gotten the winter "virus" and was was home in bed for the Monday breakfast.

Tomorrow I'm attending workshops in the morning and expected to work in the high school building during the afternoon. I scuffled around this afternoon and found the laptop and have it charging in preparation for tomorrow. I have hopes that my second semester will be less taxing than the first one -- I'm working more with the sophomores than the badly behaved juniors, so I hope that my frustration level will decrease.

At some point during the second semester I'll start attending the district retirement seminars. That means Hubby and I will need to start looking into Medicare and supplemental insurance. I'll have to visit social security and see just exactly what the pension is that we'll have to live on. All of that makes my stomach knot with anxiety. But then I think about next September and NOT having to get up at 5:00 but instead wandering out to clean up the kitchen at 10 a.m. and then sort through the files in the computer room during the afternoon while listening to good music on the CD player, and suddenly, I'm floating on a sea of bliss. Isn't that just like life? Some of it really dreadful? Some of it simply wonderful?

Recap

2012-01-02T14:48:00.011-06:00

Goodbye and farewell to 2011. I'm not sorry to see it go. In fact, it's not been the best year (nor the worst, either) and getting a fresh start seems advantageous at this juncture in our lives.

We started 2011 with Hubby's diagnosis of a-fib -- and which rapidly went into congestive heart failure. We spend most of the winter / spring months trying to regulate his meds. It was not an easy task but by fall we had pretty much reached a good medium and Hubby began to feel better and could ease up on the number of blood draws and doctors' appointments. Also I could begin to relax and not worry that every little cough, gasp, wheeze, and stagger meant something totally dire.

I spent the winter / spring semester in grad school, taking courses I hated and found irrevocably impractical. Though I've never enjoyed attending school, these six hours were so badly suited to my needs and wants that I had to re-evaluate just how much I wished to continue onward towards final SPED certification. I had to take grade extensions in both courses, and though I eventually ended up completing and Ace-ing each course, I finally decided that I was through with advanced education. I had earned 33 hours beyond my master's degree; it was time to quit.

At the end of the school year 2010 / 2011 I graduated one of my favorite students (SPED students remain on a case load for the four years they are in high school) and both my collaborating teachers resigned (well, one transferred into a new position).

Hubby and I met sister-in-law at Hubby's brother's Chesapeake Bay beach house for an extended week in July. We had purposely arrived too late to attend the family reunion but family kept arriving anyway. We had fun together, but the weather was way too hot and the Hubby's eldest brother came from Philadelphia and stayed with us the whole time which we had not anticipated. It was not the perfect vacation we had hoped for but we did get to see Washington, D.C., watch a gorgeous electric storm over the bay, eat crab cakes, and go to Mount Vernon.

Once school started, I found myself struggling to adjust to my new co-teachers and to my new case load. The added students, six incoming freshmen, were all came with huge behaviorial problems / diagnoses. The high school that had taken these type of students in previous years had been shut down for economic reasons and we now found ourselves "warehousing" students that needed significantly more behavior accommodations than we were prepared to meet. As the semester wore on, I became more and more disenchanted, and seeing that I was also unhappy about finishing my SPED certification, I eventually decided that retirement was looking more and more attractive.

In September my mother, aged 86 minus one day died on the eve of her birthday. Though I was not notified until after her death, I was at her burial here in Kansas City. She left most of her estate to others, including the home in Colorado that had been in our family since 1910. She also left my grandmother's antiques and family heirlooms to others. In an act of self-preservation, I have not asked to see the will or hear of her "fond" bequests to strangers. I missed her more than I thought I would -- but I'm clear that what I actually miss is the chance to straighten out our relationship. And I'm at least smart enough to realize that we could never actually have accomplished that. Still, it felt strange to actually be an orphan -- with no living family that knows me -- at age 65.

Our automobile remained the 1995 pink Lincoln town car. It has 187,000+ miles but Hubby keeps it running pretty darned well. We got a new TV in the summer but otherwise the house did not see any new acquisitions. We did not take our annual trip to Branson, something Hubby and I sorely missed. We spent money instead on Gussie and his teeth, Hubby and his doctors, and new eye glasses for us both.

The winter of 2011 had been miserably snowy and cold. We had to make up school days at the end of the year because of it. The summer weather was miserably hot. The fall has been fairly mild. So far we've had significant snow to end 2011.

Gas prices for the autos were very high throughout the year. Our water bill went up, as did our gas heating bills. We kept our land-line phone but we're not sure for how long now. Hubby pretty much depends on his cell while I have a 3-month basic plan that costs only $19 for the duration. This suits me just fine though I can't text or take pictures with my phone. We do maintain significant bills for Dish network TV and Earthlink for the computers. Because our Christmas gifts to each other were the Nook and the Kindle Fire, we are now investigation going WYFI -- but we haven't make a switch yet from our DSL line. Once that happens, I really see no reason to maintain a land-line phone.

In the fall, Luie jumped out the window of the rental car that Hubby was driving because he had been hit by a careless teen driver. We had Luie back within 28 hours -- but those hours were really bad, considering Luie was loose with no tags and he's blind. Luckily, the police across our state line found him and because we had a sea of advertisements 0n the web and around the neighborhood telephone poles, they returned him to us. Tears ensued all around.

Kansas City opened their new music hall to astonishingly grand reviews. We were very excited to have season tickets to their family series concerts, but have since found that we are not as "wild" about the hall(s) as the reviews led us to expect. The sound is gorgeous -- but the seating is terribly uncomfortable, with narrow seats and almost no leg room. Nearly all the seats require going up / down steps to get to them. Entrancing and exiting from the building is very congested. Parking requires miles of walking.

In December I got the flu and I've yet to recover. Also during that time Hubby managed the annual classroom Christmas celebration and it was a wonder. The kids were thrilled and well fed in the bargain. The entire celebration, though, rested totally in his lap. We also managed a week in Houston with Hubby's sister and her friends. We played games, we ate, we talked, we laughed, we shared, and we felt comforted being in each others' presence. We also had a bountiful gift exchange, even though we had each vowed we were "really and truly" cutting back this year. Both Hubby and Sister pampered me and took pains to ensure I didn't get sicker or wear out completely. We did the annual Christmas night movie (The War Horse) and we played cards and Sorry and Uno every day. It was, as always, the perfect Christmas.

We wrapped up 2011 by going to bed on the 31st at 9 p.m. -- and we were asleep when the new year rang itself in. Gussie was frightened by the gun fire that always occurs in the 'hood at midnight, so we cuddled him closer and turned over and snuggled back under our covers and went back to sleep.

Our dreams for 2012 are for good health and enough financial where-with-all to tolerate both Hubby and my retirement. Time will tell. Meanwhile, we are coping. We may not be thriving, yet -- but we are looking forward to a better year with greater personal satisfaction and inner peace. We are hoping that for us all.

And the Cat Ate the Christmas Tree

2011-12-31T15:22:00.005-06:00

Happy New Year's Eve, my friends (and family).

Christmas was, as usual, in Houston and proved a bountiful and beautiful celebration. We really enjoyed having the love of family and dear friends around us.

The trip was half wonderful and half exasperating, mainly because I couldn't get over the December virus, even with the weather warm enough to do without a coat the entire time we were away. Sister-in-law also had the cold, but she manned up far better than I did. And finally we managed to have a small mishap with the rental car when we hit a curb and flattened a very expensive tire during a Boxing Day celebration.

One great reward of the trip was a bountiful gift certificate just for me a the Houston Penzy's spice store. I came home with fabulous spices for roasting, baking, and general cooking. I unpacked those immediately and put them on the shelves above the stove. I also have a new waffle iron to try out.

The dogs traveled well and were pretty even tempered guests. The Houston cat, at age 16, was not as thrilled to see intruders into his home -- and the pay back was a sneaky devouring of the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, which, of course, made the cat's tummy very upset. Vomiting ensued for several days. The Christmas tree had to be dismantled on Christmas night but we had already distributed the vast array of presents from underneath, so it was of no matter.

We got home safely on Tuesday evening and ever since I've been sleeping long hours and trying to find some good health. Each day I unpack either a box or a bag which currently leaves only one box of Christmas presents to unpack now.

When the mood hits, I rise from my bed and Hubby takes me to the movies. We've seen The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Mission Impossible since we got home and on Christmas night we took in The War Horse with family.

Weather here in the mid-west is unseasonably warm. I'm not sure I really like it being 60 degrees in late December. But I am ready to wave goodbye to 2011. It was not our best year and it's time, we hope, to move on to better health, happier moods, and a bit more prosperity. On that note, I'll have to go now and remind Hubby to buy a lottery ticket with which to ring in the New Year.

Lost

2011-12-19T09:16:00.005-06:00

The Grinch has stolen our Christmas.

He came in the form of the "chest virus" that is going around, he dug himself in, and won't leave.

Six days absent from school.

Unable to lift my head from the pillow.

Got sick on December 2nd and haven't recovered yet -- today is the 19th and I'm still sick, sick, sick.

Missed the Christmas concerts -- couldn't get out of bed to go; would have made everyone around me miserable anyway what with all my coughing.

Hubby has been trying to shoulder his way through so others will have a Christmas celebration.

I still don't care.

Bah! Humbug!

A Relaxed Celebration

2011-11-27T01:54:00.008-06:00

It was a near perfect holiday, this Thanksgiving 2011.

The turkey dinner on Thursday has been eaten at every meal since, except for breakfast. Hubby has feasted on his dressing and my gravy (which came out so wonderfully that it didn't even require straining), along with two slices of sweet potatoes and a sliver of cranberries. Not a great fan of turkey meat, he even managed to eat a turkey sandwich on Saturday night. I, on the other hand, have dined elegantly on turkey sandwiches at every turn -- a simple concoction of buttered bread, turkey breast salted and peppered, and sweet pickles. Nothing better in the world! The dogs have their own quart ziplock bag of wings and leg meat -- and they can tell from any room in the house when it has been ripped open for a tasty treat.

The movie Hugo was viewed in all its 3-D splendor and was thoroughly enjoyed by one family member. The other was placated with a double dip of mint chocolate chip ice cream during the film.

On Friday we headed out around 9:30 for the nearest Dollar Tree store to find gifts for the kids' Christmas party. Hubby loaded his shopping cart with various interesting teen items while I loaded mine with funny sock gifts for the Houston crowd. Since the Dollar store was not having any sales (everything is always a dollar regardless) the store was nearly empty and we shopped in peace. By 11:30 we were back home in our PJ's.

All the rest of our shopping was done on-line and sent on to Houston for wrapping when we arrive at Christmas.

Multiple TV football games were watched by Hubby while I downloaded new literature to the Kindle.

We caught up on most of the laundry.

The PC went strange and we were unable to access the internet after Hubby spend Friday night web-surfing and game playing. But 20 minutes with Earthlink on Saturday solved the problem easily. These kind of things, especially on a holiday weekend, remind me why I pay Earthlink's bill each month.

An evening ride took us around town to see Christmas lights, which in Kansas City must include both the Plaza lights (on the right) and the mayor's Christmas tree (on the left). The new Power and Light district downtown also included some artistic window displays, which we enjoyed.

Sunday a sheering of my head is planned (and way overdue) which will keep me sane for the trudge through the weeks before Christmas.

We took a gander at the December calendar and planned out our attack on Christmas -- when to party, when to rent the car for Houston, etc.

We went to bed early and we slept late, husbanding our strength for the march up to Christmas. I think we are ready.

Holiday Greetings

2011-11-23T13:41:00.002-06:00

Feasting

2011-11-22T09:09:00.007-06:00

The local grocery (HyVee) has offered a free turkey if one purchases a whole Hormel Ham. Hubby came home with the ham and I studded it with cloves and baked it in brown sugar and sweet pickle brine. The ham was delicious -- but two people, one who should NOT eat ham because of the salt content, cannot eat a whole ham. For a week now I've make ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches every day for lunch but I'm done with it. I'm "hammed" out.

So last night Hubby made a Sam's run and came home with two loaves of Wonder white bread, a huge package of sliced cheeses and one of Sam's gi-normous pumpkin pies. He sliced up the ham, made containers of mustard and mayo, and then thinly sliced the pumpkin pie. This morning he loaded me up and off I went with a feast for the kids.

By 8:00 a.m. my room was packed with kids stuffing ham sandwiches into their mouths. And smiling. Second block my community teachers, on break, all filed in and made themselves plates of food.

Third block the ham was nearly depleted. I had thought we'd never eat all that much ham, but by third block we were adding in applesauce and mandarin oranges to supplement the sandwich supply.

Smiles all around. Everyone was delighted. And the ham was completely gone by 1 p.m.

Turkey Trot

2011-11-19T08:07:00.003-06:00

Wednesday I went shopping at the local Trader Joe's. We are lucky to have one just over the state line after waiting years for one to come even near the area. Last year the closest Trader Joe's was four hours away.

Hubby isn't crazy about the food there but he does appreciate the healthy dog treats and their cookies. I love the frozen dinners, the soups, the crackers and chips, the dips, and the nice array of rices available. Every three months or so I stock my freezer with their single dish meals -- all just for me.

I walked into the store on this early Wednesday afternoon (yes, I had cut a district meeting because, frankly, I was meeting-ed out and a trip to Joe's seemed much more fun) with Hubby and the boys waiting in the car for me. I was only going to pick up some frozen dinners, some lovely soup (the lobster bisque is to die for) and some interesting cracker assortments.

The store always plays very peppy, upbeat music -- not stuff you recognize or could sing to -- but light and dance-appropriate. At the entrance stood a small person, I assumed a young woman, wearing a turkey costume. She was completely ensconced in turkey gear. In her left hand she held a small box emitting, what I assumed was supposed to be, turkey sounds -- not gobbles but a kind of low pitched and drawn-out turkey moan. The turkey was doing a happy little jig at the doorway and I assumed was actually there for the children in the store.

I wandered past the bird into the fresh food and soup aisle and got stopped by a huge display of canned corn and cornbread mix. The cornbread mix looked wonderful and I was reading ingredients when I felt a presence. I turned sideways and there stood the turkey.

You could not see human eyes or expression on the turkey face - it was deadpan. The turkey was no longer dancing. The little box machine was still emitting the creepy long, low moan. The turkey just stood, patiently in front of me, obviously waiting for . . . something. And I had no idea what.

My mind froze. What do you say to a Thanksgiving turkey? Sorry? Your goose is cooked? Can I pull your wishbone? All I could think of was, "Happy Thanksgiving."

The turkey gave no response. Just stood, planted in front of me, with no reaction what-s0-ever while the turkey moans continued uninterrupted.

I was getting more uncomfortable by the moment. I loaded the cornbread I'd selected into my cart but that turkey never moved. We had now been staring each other down for over a minute.

I shuffled my feet, indicating my need to move on. After all, Hubby and the boys were waiting and I'd promised them only a quick stop at Joe's.

Feeling more and more ridiculous, and actually a bit frightened, I wondered what I was supposed to do to get this turkey out of my shopping path. Offer a can of corn? Do turkeys like corn? Can they open a can and get the corn out?

"Um, hope you have a wonderful holiday?" I offered up hopefully. Still the turkey stood in place.

Finally, I just grabbed the cart and pushed it around the turkey, who make a full circle turn with me, while that unblinking turkey face followed me the whole way. Thankfully, the turkey did not move. But that face watched me all the way down the aisle until I finally turned the corner.

I quickly selected the rest of my purchases but I had completely lost my nerve for going back for fresh soup -- one of the main purposes of my visit. All the while, I kept watch for the strange turkey but I never saw it again, even on exiting the store.

I'm sure most children would find the turkey entertaining, especially if it were dancing around. But a strange, unsmiling turkey just standing and staring at you can be a traumatic experience to a 65 year old woman just trying to get some soup. Especially at Thanksgiving time when a frozen turkey is sitting in her frig at home thawing.

Twelve More Things

2011-11-16T11:41:00.006-06:00

or Count Your Blessings (instead of sheep)

We have much to be grateful for this November. I gripe a lot about my current life situation (see my previous post) and I' not full of bubbly good cheer right now. But this does not mean that I'm not unaware of the things in my life that I need to be truly thankful for.

1. Hubby is chugging along. Last January we weren't sure that he would continue to be putting one foot in front of the other but his last big health reveal showed him doing pretty darned well, all things considered.

2. It's costing us a fortune to keep Hubby "pretty darned well" but so far we've been able to afford it and the new meds have brought his blood pressure down to near normal range. That's a real victory. So the meds are worth it and we hope to continue to be able to pay the bills.

3. Luie is thriving after his excursion into the wilds of Prairie Village, Kansas. I keep grabbing him and scolding him for sending his family into spasms of terror, but he just licks my nose and hangs his head further out the car window.

4. Gus has teeth. Every one of those teeth is now worth a pound of gold but he can chew with his back molars just find, even if he can no longer gnaw anything. And again, like Hubby's meds, we have been able to afford to pull his teeth when he needs them extracted.

5. Luie still has his eyes. They may produce even more limited eyesight than we initially suspected (he now stays close to walls and he's having trouble figuring out how to enter the house through the front door) but the hugely expensive eye meds keep him from suffering any pain (according to the ophthalmologist he visits every six months) and (once again) we have been able to afford his meds and doctors.

6. Our house is still standing and keeps us cool in the summer and warm in the winter. It may not be the house of our dreams but it certainly is the house we can afford and it serves the purpose of keeping us protected from the world.

7. We have phones -- both land-line and cell. We have DSL computer service with a company we like. We have a huge TV with DVR connectivity and 287 channels for TV watching. This really is a big deal -- considering many of my students are living without electricity because they can't pay their bills this holiday.

8. We have two running jalopies. When one doesn't operate, the other one does. The newer Lincoln (and I use the term tongue-in-cheek) has been towed twice this week but the old gray Lincoln has stood the drive across the state line and down the 18th Street Expressway both times the Lincoln wouldn't go (something about fuel lines and sensors). However, we've been able to afford the repairs on the pink Lincoln and right now it's running once again. Who knows for how long? But we don't have a car payment to make and our insurance premiums are low.

9. We own a lot of household conveniences. We have a fairly new stove which both bakes and broils. We have great little microwave and a lovely new slow cooker. The frig in the kitchen is small and old but it is subsidized by an even older frig in the garage. Still both chill and freeze and work just fine. We have a dishwasher we run every day and it cleans even pots and pans miraculously. Though I might gripe big time about having to up and downstairs, we have a washer and dryer in the basement and never have to schlep clothes to the laundromat.

10. We have family who loves us and shows us her caring in both big and small ways. We know she has our back even though we live 800 miles apart. It may not be a huge family -- but it is a strong tie.

11. I've had a job for the last six years that has allowed us to make substantial savings toward a retirement that I had done little to plan for. Now I have a tidy little nest egg (which may not last all that long in today's economy) put away so I can actually retire before I die. Moreover, this job has been mostly satisfying in a more emotional way. I'm glad I'm ending my career the way I started out -- as a teacher.

12. All three of the family members still have their "brains" in tact. We can think, laugh, joke, love, and remember most of the good times we shared. Two of us can write intelligent prose while the third one can figure out logic and spacial problems with ease. Together we make a pretty good little family unit.

Twelve Things

2011-11-13T14:10:00.003-06:00

These days the current "touchy feely" trend to open meetings is to write one thing about yourself that no one knows and put it in a pile with the four to eight people you are grouped with and then people try to guess what your "one unknown thing" was.

Personally, I detest this particular opening gambit to what inevitably promises to be a boring meeting. But I hate all the "touchy-feely" openings for boring meetings. Mostly I hate meetings.

Then, why, you ask yourself, am I proceeding to list things about myself that no one knows?

My brain is fallow and boring and nothing really currently interests me. Hubby has control of the remote and is watching football and that's even more boring than listing the unknown qualities I possess (at least to me). Also, I HAVE to participate in this stupid meeting activity or look like a dork while you on the other hand, can quickly choose another, much more interesting blog to read and completely avoid knowing about the things listed below "that no one knows about me" -- except now you. Maybe I can use this as an excuse to opt out of this activity the next time it pops up? Anyway, read, if you choose. And if you want to tell me one thing about yourself that no one knows, I promise NOT to make fun of you for participating.

Things about me no one (or few people) know:

1. I am anti-social. I do not like most people and I really hate having to interact with them. The paradox is that I like "giving directions" to people which makes me a good teacher. I would NOT however be a good counselor. I mostly just don't give a hoot about your problems. I'll try to look interested but the real truth is, I'm usually thinking, "Oh just get over yourself and get on with your life." I'm not a private person -- I'm just not really fond of being in groups of people and sharing "me" with you.

2. I have almost no friends. My last "best" friend was in the 1980's. I loved her creativity and her drama and her talent. One day she got mad at me and we never intimately spoke again. I tried for a week to make it right -- and then I realized that all her friendships ended like this. I had just been too blind to see it. My "best" friend before that was one from college. We were inseparable. I loved her but I was never as smart or bright as she was. She left me when I met Hubby in 1973. We had been so close that I couldn't understand how she couldn't get over the fact that Hubby was of a different race. But she couldn't and she was honest about that. We have never spoken or met each other since that time. She would go visit my mother every summer though -- and Mother left her a goodly portion of her estate when she died. I miss having a best girl friend. But I honestly don't think I ever chose really good "best" friends so maybe it's just as well that I don't have one now.

3. I don't have any fingerprints. I had to be fingerprinted when I went back to teaching six years ago, and they couldn't get decent prints from any of my fingers. I'm old and I've spend 40 years typing frantically on a keyboard -- so I've worn off my fingerprints. (This actually ties into #1 -- I'd much rather write a response to something than have to talk with people about it).

4. I have long periods of time when I don't read anything but People, Time, and Newsweek magazine. I have lately added in the daily newspaper delivered on my Kindle and I read that about four times a week. I never have days where I don't watch TV.

5. I'm terrified of having to substitute teach. Subs have no control and children hate them and take advantage of them. I would rather walk on hot coals than sub. I will not sub in my building. After three years the principal's secretary won't call me to sub. This makes me very unpopular in the front office.

6. I truly believe that teachers who set up their classrooms in straight rows of desks are terrible teachers. They don't have a creative teaching juice in their soul.

7. I'd much rather eat snacks than eat a meal. Chips and dip make a fine dinner if they're topped off with brownies and ice cream.

8. I worry all the time about getting dementia. Both my mother and her father had it. Every time I can't call something to mind, I worry that I'm slipping into oblivion.

9. I've never been wild about driving. This may be partly because I get turned around directionally so easy -- and once I'm lost, I can't get found again, even when I find familiar landmarks.

10. I don't think other people believe it, but I think I cope with pain exceptionally well. I actually do hurt almost all the time. I have headaches every day. My back is in terrible shape from ruptured discs. My hips and knees are full of arthritis and sometimes I have to actually will my legs to move. My toes are very arthritic and I feel like they are frequently on fire. Standing for me is far worse than walking. Any stooping is nearly impossible. But except for the fact that I move slowly now-a-days, I don't think I complain about this much at all. Hubby probably hears the most. My kids at school know I don't go out on fire drills because the elevator shuts down and it's five flights of two levels of stairs to get to my room (that's 10 flights of stairs) -- but the kids protect me from having the administration learn I'm hiding away locked in my room.

11. I miss my mother much more than I thought I would.

12. I'm getting ready to retire at the end of this year. No one at school knows. I'm really sad about it but I hate this school year. Every morning I can barely force myself out of bed and into clothes and out the door. The entire situation is causing me a huge shift in my usually sunny outlook on life.

Looking at the Week

2011-10-29T09:56:00.006-05:00

Nothing much important to write about but I'm sitting here at the computer and find nothing much I actually want to look up, or play (I like "hunt and find" computer games), or plan, or anybody I especially need to chat with (though I don't chat live, but only through email). So, I thought I'd write how my past week went.

The school week went okay:

We had 1.5 hours of advisory on Wednesday to prepare for the ACT PLAN for the sophomores and a run through of the ACT PLAN for the freshman. Little scheduled for the juniors and seniors to do. Then on Thursday we have three hours of advisory so the sophomores could take the ACT PLAN and the poor freshman could continue to "plan" to take the PLAN. The seniors got to go the cafeteria and interview college reps. But the juniors? Pretty much left hanging with nothing at all to do but groan, especially after the first two hours had elapsed. Both days were wasted.
The kids who are bad continued to be "tardy, disrespectful, recalcitrant, down-right ugly, and now-and-again suspended."
The kids who wanted to work, lived in my room, hanging on for dear life.
Friday, one of my Iraqi students (not on my caseload but an adoptee) brought in a huge fry-up of that she called "borac" and it was delicious -- fried filo pastry filled with yummy, well-seasoned ground beef.Full of grease -- a great way to start off a Friday morning at 7:00 a.m. -- but heck, I ate two just in case one wouldn't send me over the edge.
Third block is struggling with reading the novel "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote, which sounds good for a Kansas high school student, but in reality, for a SPED kid is just much too dense and dry for them. We're watching the movie and reading the SPARKS synopsis after struggling through the first 70 pages to get a feel for the writing. On Tuesday we ate Ramon noodles with our movie watching; on Friday we popped corn and ate Mandarin oranges. Thank heavens for a closet full of treats.Promises of food keeps kids awake.

The dogs got groomed but the humans didn't.

We ran out of milk, eggs, bread, and peanut butter at home but didn't bother to go shopping. Finally, Thursday night Hubby brought home some eggs so I could have tuna fish salad for lunch on Friday.

Luie has forgiven us - and probably forgotten that he ever got lost. He's back to hanging out the windows of the Lincoln like nothing ever happened.

The final payment was made to on Gus's dental work. Hubby's trying to convince Gus to have his teeth brushed. Actually, Hubby's trying to convince ME that I should brush Gus's teeth. Gus just laughs at us.

Hubby has the second cold of the season. He also spend Thursday at the doctor's for the quarterly check-up. Blood pressure still too high. More pills being added for that. Otherwise, all the other ailments check-out okay. He is now scheduled for fasting and blood work.

The weather is perfectly autumn (a word I discovered my SPED kids did NOT know) -- just chilly enough at night for a cover and warm enough in the daytime to go without a coat.

Our debit card lost it's magnetic strip and this is causing us untold problems. We have a new one on order but it won't arrive for two weeks. Meanwhile, no one can swipe the card - and at Sam's over the weekend they couldn't even enter the numbers. We finally had to resort to a real check - and when one on longer carries a purse, proving you are the owner of the checking account is quite an ordeal without photo ID.

No school on Halloween. It's great to have a three day weekend. The winter clothes are up from the basement, the summer clothes are down into the basement and actually hung up -- and the washing is nearly totally finished. Plus there is a bag of Halloween chocolates in the kitchen -- and no kids ever come to our house for trick-or-treats. Yum.

The Final Irony

2011-10-26T13:58:00.006-05:00

Last Friday a voice mail message was left on my home phone. I needed to call the local funeral home and make arrangement for Mother's ashes to be buried next to my father.

I left the task of making arrangements until Monday, assuming this would be a very simple procedure. Set up a time after school -- say 3:45 p.m. -- go to the burial site and watch the interment.

Of course, I was wrong. Dead wrong would be too much of pun, right?

Because the funeral home had received the instructions more than 30 days ago, they refused to proceed with the burial of the ashes without signature authority from the closest relative 24 hours in advance of any scheduled "service." I use the word service lightly -- no service was planned other than putting the ashes in a pre-dug hole. And they had to do it between 9 and 3 during a weekday, a time when normal people are working.

Now Hubby was not at all happy about the whole prospect of having to attend this "service" and was especially not happy about having to drive out twice (once to sign papers, once to inter the ashes) to do it. On Friday he was downright surly about it all, but by Saturday he had mellowed out and just shrugged and said, "Set it up how you want it."

The agreed interment was eventually planned for Wednesday afternoon at 1 p.m. -- the only time this week available. I would need to take half a day from school. And I had to show up 24 hours in advance and sign papers -- except I am a mentor to a first year teacher and I had a "mentoring" district meeting scheduled from 3:30 to 5:30 in Kansas City, Kansas -- meaning I could never make the funeral home in Missouri by 6 p.m. Monday night.

The funeral home was adamant but eventually I found my school teacher voice -- and though they wouldn't agree on my showing up 30 minutes before the interment to sign the papers, they did finally accept my showing up on 3:30 Tuesday afternoon for the 1:00 Wednesday event.

I notified my principal and the school secretary (the most important person in the school, of course) and Hubby picked me up at noon today. We made it to the burial plot with 15 minutes to spare.

The funeral home, attached to the cemetery, had gone all out: canopy, chairs, carpet, and the unctuous grief counselor (who actually looked a lot like Uriah Heep).

Now the lawyer who had contacted me to tell me Mother had died, had said repeatedly that the family that cared for her in the last months of her life would be bringing her ashes to Kansas City for burial.

Evidently, the money was not going to be provided by the estate for such a trip. No one came from Colorado.

The funeral home thought someone I had never heard of wanted to attend the interment. No one showed.

In the end, at the very last of Mother's time above ground, it was just me, the unctuous attendant, and Mother. Hubby sat in the car with the boys. All the people who claimed a piece of her during her life had drifted away. I'm sure she didn't foresee that it would end up being just me and her, alone at last. She refused in the last 10 years to see me. She claimed to friends that she didn't know where I was. She surrounded herself with varying assortments of "hanger-ons" while refusing to acknowledge the family that could have cared for and loved her. But for a brief time this afternoon, with a chill breeze blowing and the sun crisply shining, she and I were finally united in one last, ultimate goodbye.

How Could You?

2011-10-14T10:05:00.005-05:00

A week ago Hubby rear-ended a car just three blocks from home. The car he hit sustained no damage but the Lincoln lost its front bumper (with license plate). Interestingly, the police blamed the other driver so on Monday Hubby took the Lincoln in for repair and picked up a cherry red Nissan, much smaller than our town car. Both dogs were required to sit in the back seat. Also, the back windows were NOT child proofed and rolled all the way down, while the Lincoln's only went half way.

Luie hangs out windows. It's his joy when riding down the road, rain or shine, broiling heat or freezing cold. The back windows are nearly always down and Luie's head is facing the breezes. We think, because he's blind, he likes to smell where he's going.

Monday evening and Tuesday, I complained to Hubby about how far Luie was able to stick out of the little Nissan, since the windows were so low and the car so small. Now I could make a sexist comment here, about men, but NOT all men think they can control their entire world -- just my husband. So he left Luie to enjoy himself, flinging himself into the wind.

Wednesday, Hubby and the boys came from home to pick me up after school -- a journey of 18+ miles one way. Luie and Gus started our riding happily in the back seat, enjoying the afternoon cruise.

I came from school, tired from doing hallway bulletin board duty (I agreed to put up the Health student of the month boards for the year), opened the back car door to deposit my rolling school bag, and only Gussie greeted me, quietly sitting in the corner of the car. Gussie was looking at the floor, not offering me a happy greeting, as he usually does.

"Where's Luie?" I queried.

"In the back, of course," snapped Hubby.

"Nope. No, Luie back here," I answered.

And Hubby had the effrontery to turn around to prove me wrong. Strike one for Hubby.

Of course, there was no Luie.

I quickly clamored into the front seat, belted up and we tore out.

"When did you last see him in the car?" I tried to sound calm.

"I don't know."

"When did you last hear them barking?" I responded.

"They didn't."

We tore down the road to the 18th Street Expressway -- a highway of bustling traffic, semis, speeding cars, and motorcycles.

No Luie.

We raced down the highway, frantically searching the side of the road. After all, he had only have been gone for less than half an hour.

No Luie.

We sped into Merriam, Kansas, a little shopping district with a huge grocery, a Wal-Mart, a McDonald's, and other like businesses. You can imagine just how busy that area was.

No Luie.

Down Roe Boulevard we drove the speed limit. Past the elementary school with all the parents picking up children.

No Luie.

Back into Prairie Village with the Mission Shopping Mall.

No Luie.

All the way home, we hung out the windows frantically searching, not talking. Because if I had said it word, it would not have been nice. Not nice at all. Actually it would have been searingly awful. How in god's name could not know that a dog was missing from the car? Why didn't you listen when I asked that those windows be raised? How could you have let this happen?

Now here's the part where I'm to blame. During the summer, Luie's tags had been lost. They had come loose from his collar and fallen off somewhere in the park and we hadn't replaced them. Being blind, Luie is always leased. Always! He never is allowed to wander at will like Gussie, who is tagged with 4 jangling hearts and circles on his collar.

So, end run -- we have a blind dog, lost somewhere on an 18 mile strip of highway and bustling suburban shopping centers, with no tags and no street smarts and no way to find him.

My world was ending.

We spend two more hours traveling back and forth, hunting. No Luie.

Finally, as it grew dark, we wound our way home. I immediately composed a "Lost Schnauzer" ad for the newspaper, printed up stacks of lost dog fliers, and listed Luie on every lost dog registry we could find.

Then I took the maximum dosage of tranquilizers, plus one more for good measure, and passed out. Anything was better than staying awaking worrying.

Next morning we got up at 3 a.m., loaded the car with the flyers and set out. We attached flyers to every metal light pole for 18 miles.

We checked web sites. We sent off money to have Luie's picture mailed to every dog concern within a 10 mile radius of where we thought he may have been lost.

And I prayed. All day at school, I kept thinking, "If anything in my world is ever going to be right, please, God, let Luie be in the car when I come out of school this afternoon."

I knew Luie had been lost in a suburb that is noted for dog ownership. This people ARE dog people -- they own them, they care for them, and I have seen them stop in the middle of the road and endanger themselves to help a lost animal. If things went our way, maybe they would call Hubby's cell and Luie would be returned.

However, if Luie went missing for 24 hours, the odds diminished greatly.

Thursday afternoon only Gussie was in the car, still sitting quietly in the corner, looking at the floorboards.

We drove home in silence. Hubby took Gussie off with him when we got home. I think he decided it might just be better not to be the same house with me. We hadn't really spoken since Luie went missing.

I went in the house, swallowed the two plus a spare for good measure tranquilizers and fell into bed. Still better to be zonked than crying my heart out.

The tranquilizers were prescribed for my insomnia. They are mild -- and if nights are really bad, I'm allowed two. I'm very susceptible to such medications, so it doesn't take much, honestly, and I've never before had two, much less three. The affects last just four hours, but usually that is enough to allow me to get some sleep on the bad nights.

Right on the money, after four hours of sleep, I woke up at 7:30. Groggy, I realized that Gussie was in the bed with me. Now, Gussie is unable to jump on the bed. We have to lift him up because of his bad back / hips and short legs.

"Okay, Hubby came home and left Gussie with me." Hubby was out again but I wandered into the kitchen for a drink, and honestly to take two more pills so I could stay asleep. But I thought, I should probably feed Gussie. So I opened a can of the gourmet dog food, mixed in some pumpkin, and thought, "Old Gus deserves a treat."

When I hollered for Gus to come and eat, I looked over and out into the kitchen bounded Luie.

"Man, I guess I'd better stop taking those pills. Gus looks just like Luie now."

And then, right behind Luie, trotted in Gus.

The screaming commenced immediately. Luie turned tailed and ran back into the bedroom. He wanted nothing at all to do with the hollering woman who had let him be lost and terrified for the last 24 hours. In fact, he was royally pissed at both Hubby and me.

Hubby had gotten the call at 6 p.m. from the Shawnee Mission Police Department. He had picked up Luie but in typical Hubby fashion, hadn't asked one pertinent question as to where Luie had been, who had found him, or why the police had him. He jut took the dog and brought him home. He didn't bother to wake me up, either. Better a sleeping wife than one who looked like she was going to threatened to end a 38 year union with a couple of evil words.

We don't know what actually happened or why.

We do know that Luie was really upset with us. He wouldn't cuddle. He wouldn't play. He did come when called, but then stalked off, with his head turned away and his tail not thumping.

He began to get over it this weekend. He'll have tags before next week is over. The next time we're at the vet, he'll be microchipped.

I'm begninng to get over it, too. Hubby and I are again speaking. After thirty-eight years, you learn to forgive even the big things.

Luie is home. My world has turned right side up again. The rental car is gone, the Lincoln with the safe windows is driving Luie around, and we have all learned a lesson. Now to have Luie completely forgive us . . .

My Poor Baby

2011-10-05T15:49:00.004-05:00

Gussie cried all the way home, just like a hurt child. A constant, sad, just over the breath low sob of hurt. The blood mixed with his saliva dripped steadily down his little chin turning his beard a faded autumn rose. His butt was yellow from diarrhea and his tail was stiff from where he had sat in it. His eyes were unfocused but tried so hard to tell me just how miserable he really felt. He'd paw me, then his papa, and his voice kept up the steady hum of a sadly miserable pup.

Today Gussie had his teeth cleaned and then extracted. Six needed to be removed. We honestly didn't think he still had six teeth to pull -- but the vet assured us that he still has a few teeth left in his little head. We're afraid of hurting him even more by pulling open his mouth to check what's left. I can tell the bottom two canines are still intact, probably just waiting to cost us another pocket full of change. He may have a couple of back teeth but that's got to be it.

Gus has had problem teeth since he was two years old. Now he's eight - in fact the little boy's birthday is tomorrow. What a lovely gift he's been given -- nearly toothless and the pain of pulled teeth radiating throughout his mouth. Every year he's lost from two to four teeth and set us back a couple of hundred dollars. This year the vet quoted Hubby a price of over $800 and Hubby went through the roof.

I got a call from the school office telling me I had an emergency call from my husband -- and you know what my first thoughts were! Something dire and deadly, of course. But Hubby was calling to say he wasn't going to pay the vet any $800 just to pull a couple of bad teeth -- and he'd already told the vet that.

I'm no good at price negotiation but Hubby has clearly mastered the art. He gave permission to only have Gus's teeth cleaned -- and they could call with a quote as to the expense of extraction. However, if the price wasn't right, Hubby said, "It's time I found another dentist."

Now I love our vets. They are caring, compassionate, and extremely careful with their treatment. I know that Gus and Luie get the best care possible. Still . . . .$800+ for a dental is a whole heap of money. When the vet hospital called Hubby back, the price was substantially lower -- with a new price of just under $600. That seemed much more reasonable and the extractions proceeded.

Gussie is now home. He's nestled on the bed with his papa and his housemate. His butt has been thoroughly cleaned. A bit of water has been sipped. His bladder was been emptied by the big tree. The crying has finally stopped. However, those big, sad, brown eyes are still a killer. My poor baby boy. A lot of cuddling is clearly in Gus's future.

Staying Up Late Can Be Worth It

2011-10-01T16:22:00.006-05:00

Wednesday night began the concert season for Hubby and me. We met friends for dinner directly across the street from the new Kauffman Performing Arts Center, then meandered down the glass-fronted walkway into our first peek at our newest and quite lauded KC building.

And W O W! It is a wonder. Soaring. Dramatic. Modern. Visually impressive both outside and in. From the reception hall, the Brandmeyer Great Hall, one looks out across the city. Green space fronts the building because the parking garage is underground and instead of seeing a concrete entrance, the builders planned for a green space with lawn and earth. Quite remarkable.

Inside the Helzberg Auditorium, which is the symphony hall, nothing impedes the acoustics. Everything is wood. The experts say is it is like being inside a cello. It felt more like an ark to me and I thought the space seemed smaller than I was expecting. The hall seats 1600 -- but it feels much more intimate than that. The orchestra tier is only 38 seats across but since seating is on all four sides (yes, three rows of seats are behind the stage) and there are 5 balcony tiers, I suppose that accounts for the number the hall can hold.

The feeling inside the Helzberg hall is very, very modern -- not cold, though. With the mid-toned woods employed -- and everything but the seat cushions is wood -- the feeling is kind-of Danish modern. The seats are cushioned in shades of medium to dark blue in a fluctuating pattern. Because the seats are tiered, everything requires wooden steps. This is not easy on arthritic knees and Hubby will have some problems attending future concerts there. For one thing, elevators are in scant supply and some only go up while others only go down so one has to hike to find an elevator.

The concert itself was a grand surprise. We knew the students were performing and so really didn't expect too much in terms of quality. However, the UMKC Conservatory Student Concert Jazz Band was conducted by the local jazz great Bobby Watson and performed Watson’s The Gates BBQ Suite. Ollie Gates is the barbecue king of Kansas City and these pieces were written to commemorate our barbecue heritage. Certainly not in Mozart's quality, the music was entertaining and we got to hear Bobby Watson perform with the Band. Everyone was bopping along and feeling upbeat about the performance by intermission.

The the PRISM Quartet, a saxophone group, performed William Bolcom’s Concerto Grosso for saxophone quartet and winds, a PRISM commission, along with the UMKC student symphony. This was my favorite piece of the evening -- a lovely melodic yet modern piece.

The conclusion of the concert though, showcased the acoustic wonders of the auditorium. I'm not sure I would ever want to hear this music played again -- but for the sheer excitement of it's first hearing and the maximum usage it made of the concert hall, this piece was creative, imaginative, and a spectacular end to a thoroughly enjoyable evening. The UMKC Conservatory Wind Symphony directed by Steven Davis performed Corigliano’s Circus Maximus, Symphony No. 3 for Large Wind Ensemble. And OH MY GOD! This was a circus for sure. Musicians were placed on all tiers of the Helzberg Hall. Four different levels of sound bombarded the audience. It was fun to watch the conductor hold up one finger and watch the musicians on the stage play. Then would come two fingers and the saxophone ensemble on our left would join it -- or solo. At three fingers the musicians behind us played and with four the instruments on our right joined in. Sometimes musicians on tiers two, three and four changed places. At one point they paraded across the stage. And some of them were in costume. Santa Claus was there in full beard and red suit, there was a beatnik, a naked swimmer, and several others. We were swiveling in our seats and trying to follow all the action -- until the final chords when a guy popped up from back stage fired a huge rifle -- with all the force of a loaded canon. It was hugely good fun: loud, dissonant, melodic, soft, fast, slow, merry, eerie, and unexpected.

Though we didn't get home until 11:00 that night (and 5 a.m. arrived very early on Thursday) Wednesday was a treat! I can't wait for more.

Best Wishes and Happy Returns

2011-09-27T19:01:00.003-05:00

She HATES having her picture shown -- so you only get the back of her head -- but Wednesday is the birthday of our favorite (okay, ONLY) true relative (which is funny since Hubby adopted her and she adopted him) and we needed to acknowledge the day.

Taking It Easy

2011-09-24T21:44:00.003-05:00

The week was a tough one. Hubby has the terrible "summer-going-into-fall" cold / virus and he has been really feeling this one. There was a night in there where I suggested that maybe we actually did need an emergency room visit, due to his various health ailments, but if you knew Hubby, you'd realize that was never an option.

"I will tough this out!" is his motto for nearly everything. And tough it out he has. Finally this weekend he's beginning to act a tad more normal, even if he still sounds perfectly awful.

My stomach, due to a change in meds, has been acting up and somehow I have ended up feeling even more exhausted than ever (which is a pretty neat feat since I'm usually so tired all the time anyway). Wednesday at school was Family Advisory Day -- which in normal terms is parent / teacher conferences. Wednesday was extended until 7:30 p.m. -- and we were back in the classroom on regular schedule on Thursday. I also had two IEP meetings this week -- and six IEP's to write.

But.

My time with the kids was fine. At parent conferences I had more attend than usual and in our building we had a thundering horde. We've not seen that many parents in the last 20+ years.

One kid I'd been thinking of sending to the after school program so we just wouldn't have to fight him any more, suddenly turned himself around.

A cell phone was removed from a kid by a parent after I complained at the parent conference.

One of my collab teachers suddenly thought that co-teaching might be a "cool" idea which could be a good thing if he ever decided that we should do lesson planning together. Another thought that doing some work separate from her classroom might be successful -- and it certainly was! Not quite a co-teaching situation but it made my life a whole lot easier.

My learning community at school has become very cohesive and taken on a whole new outlook -- which I'm loving.

Tickets for some concerts at the new Kauffman Center arrived. The fall concert season has arrived!

The weather turned from hot to really cold but then swung back again to nicely mild and stayed there.

My salary raise due to reaching 30 hours past my masters in graduate studies was approved -- and was significant.

The new TV season started and I've been DVRing all the shows I wanted to try out -- with varying results, but some are keepers. I tried "Two and Half Men" but I still don't get the humor of the show and it still revolves around men acting like idiots. I have fallen in love with "The Big Bang Theory" and discovered that it was being shown at 11:30 p.m. starting with the first episode -- so I'm recording everything.

Today we took in a truly wonderful movie and I'm recommending it to everyone. We saw "Money Ball" with Brad Pitt. Though we're not baseball fans and we never attend games or watch them or even listen to them, this movie is riveting. Well written, well acted, well directed, it has suspense, a couple of heroes you can cheer for, a villain you want to see fail or certainly get "his come-upence," and a satisfying ending with no dead bodies anywhere in sight. The villain is not punished but instead comes to super "A-ha!" moment which actually proves even better than revenge. The movie is a "home run" all the way!

To round out the week, I received an e-mail on Friday from a long lost cousin. This was truly a nice surprise. With no children and as an only child, our family ties are down to none with Mother's death. It was a pleasure to hear that someone other than me is carrying on the "family." Though currently in Florida, it might be that we will continue correspondence. I hope so.

Finally Kansas City Has Reason to Shine

2011-09-17T16:16:00.003-05:00

Of course, we were not at the opening night festivities. And we won't be at tonight's events. And just thinking of facing a 30,000+ crowd tomorrow is beyond our current physical scope -- but we do hold a set of tickets for upcoming events. And we are very, very excited to see the new concert halls. We've already started budgeting for valet parking -- it looks like quite a hike from the garage (even with handicapped parking). Our first concert is the end of September. We won't be hearing Placido Domingo or watching Tommy Tune dance - or even seeing a video of Prince Charles (yes! that Prince Charles) call Kansas City a burgeoning mecca for the arts -- but we will be there, proud that Kansas City finally has an outstanding, world class arts center.

Click on the the link and see all the action and read the story:

Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts

One of my favorite statements about this new building, is that the symphony members are ecstatic that they can finally (and the first time) hear each other playing (the acoustics in the old hall were so awful that each member had to play as loud as they could on nearly every number so the audience could hear the music).

Tying up loose ends

2011-09-14T09:44:00.003-05:00

I figured that Mother had handled her demise very competently, that my services would really not be wanted or needed at all. Lawyers were in place. She had made sure she had those she cared about at this time surrounding her (as the lawyer cryptically mentioned to me, "People seemed to come and go in her life), and everything possible would be done to insure that I was out of the loop.

Except it seems that "body disposable" (lordy, that's a cold term) actually does need a blood relative. So I got the call and then the e-mail, saying I needed to sign off for the funeral home to cremate her body.
Writing that seems so foreign. She was Mother, not a body. Even if I wasn't a chosen part of her final last wishes, she was still my only mother, not just a dead body.

The whole thing kind of threw me, not withstanding the cold language, and the fact that my services actually were required.

I knew how to get the proper signatures but our digital lives have now gone wireless. I actually have a scanner / copier printer at school -- but it's very old and slow. The one at home is now wireless and isn't equipped to fulfill multiple purposes. Neither do I own a fax machine. Faxes? In today's world unless you are a business? Most of us don't even own landlines anymore. Yes, I do . . . but that's because I don't like phones and cell phones, in particular (and yes, I have one of those but don't even know the number on it -- call Hubby if you need us quickly).

So Hubby stepped up to help me get Mother's final wishes granted. Wouldn't she have just loved THAT?

First we visited the local library. But no, they could not scan signed documents and turn them into digital files. However, they get so many requests for the service, they have a sheet of referral places. I glanced at it and saw that our second choice for scanning was on the list and off we went.

In the car, I dithered some more. "What if I don't know how to run their computers? Or scanners? Will they help me?"

"Silly woman. Give them your credit card, explain what you need, and go sit down."

So I did. And five minutes later I had all the files I needed, scanned and in PDF form. I had thought in advance and taken my trusty flash drive with me. I also had brought all the lawyer info, in case we had to resort to faxing. But I didn't need that at all, just the flash drive.

Back home, I sent off the files within 14 hours of receiving them and congratulated myself on a job well done -- and I hadn't had to explain to the lawyer that I really wasn't sure how quickly I could get the job completed.

Except, of course, I had left off an initial on a form line. The lawyer had sent absolutely no directions as to what needed to be completed on the forms, and though I had read them thoroughly, I had still left something out. You'd think for the amount of money my mother had spent on these lawyers, some directions would have come my way.

The funeral home called.

"We know you weren't close to your mother."

Gee, everybody knows?

"Do you want us to fax you the forms so you can initial the correct lines?"

"No. I do not. Just initial them for me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

At home, after spending the PDF file off and answering the funeral home questions, I hugged Hubby. One more time he had put himself out for a woman who never liked him, never acknowledged his role in our family, and thought of him as less than a human being. One more time he had spent money to make sure her needs were met -- and with no acknowledgment in return -- other than my firm belief that his is the true Christian heart.

So now my part in mother's life (or end of life) is complete.

It would be the time to say, "and so her memories are put to bed." But, of course, it's never that easy or simple or satisfying.

Rest in peace, Mother. We have all done the best we could with the tools we were given. Even Hubby.

PS -- if there is an afterlife, please meet Mrs. Van and have a long, long talk with her. For those of you who knew Mrs. Van, you'll know why . . .

Snap Shot Memory

2011-09-13T13:42:00.003-05:00

In 2002, a little over six months after 9/11/2001 I asked friends to write me about their "snap shot" experiences. Snapshot memories are those that are so startling they are forever embedded in our memories. We remember what we were doing the exact moment we heard "the big news." Adi, my friend in Singapore, thought this might be a nice time to reprise that essay. It's long, be forewarned.

Remembering 9-11 -- Written in the spring of 2002

A term has been coined for the recollections we have that are so strong they are forever imprinted in our psyche – Flashbulb Memory. September 11, 2001 has been proclaimed by the media as one of those extraordinary days in history that everyone will always remember where they were and what they were doing, not unlike the attack on Pearl Harbor or the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

My reaction to that Tuesday is still disbelief. I don’t bring any understanding to the breadth of the disaster. I have a great interest in the news events that occurred during and after the explosions. I’ve followed the stories of heroism and sacrifice. Because the media kept telling me the event would be imprinted in my memory like a “flashbulb” exploding, I do remember what I was doing and where I was when I heard the news of the plane hitting the first Trade Tower. I was standing in the bathroom combing my hair when NPR announced that a plane had hit the World Trace Center. I rushed to the TV. Twenty minutes later I rushed to my job at The We’re #3 Telecom Company, but my radio stayed on all day long – as did everyone else’s. Little knots of people met all around the floor, sharing information, speculating, trying to make sense of the senseless. Few people left the building to go to lunch. Instead we gathered in huge groups in the cafeteria to see replay after replay of the Trade Towers coming down.

I’m not at all sure that I’m emotionally invested in this disaster yet. It may be just too big for me to wrap my mind and heart around. My New York friend, Peff, kept me updated through the entire chain of events in New York. Through her I felt some of the pain. I never cried, though. I never had any nightmares about it. I never felt threatened in my own personal world. I’m absolutely sure I should feel more than I do. Others tell or write of feeling fear now, of being depressed, of finding life “forever changed.” I simply find myself unable to assimilate the magnitude of the tragedy that happened on September 11. I can’t imagine it.

Two deaths of public people did deeply affect me, enough to make a lasting impression of my own activities at the time. The first, of course, was the assassination of JFK. I was a junior in high school, in typing class, sitting next to Paul – the boy I had night dreams of kissing when no one was looking. He never even noticed I was in the same room, of course, much less within keyboard reach. The intercom came on and announced President Kennedy had been shot. It never really crossed my mind that Kennedy could be dead. Because of that announcement I remember that typing was the sixth of my seven period day. I have no notion of what the other periods were. I know that during seventh period we were told Kennedy was dead. I walked home and spent the next 36 hours glued to our black and white TV. For some reason it was in the dining room – the only time I can ever remember it being there. I sat immediately beside our TV peering into its screen during the funeral, learning words like cortège, trying to assimilate that someone so young could be so dead. When John-John saluted, I cried.

The other death that shocked me profoundly is one that nobody ever mentions as affecting them deeply. I’m not sure I’m so proud that this death rocked my core, but it did. It was a hot summer night and I was on-line, typing to internet friends when hubby announced from the bedroom that Princess Diana had died in a car crash. I remember responding, “That’s NOT a funny joke.” It took him several minutes to convince me it was true. Again I glued myself to the television, totally unprepared for someone so young and so vibrant to be irrevocably dead. But I never shed tears over her death, nor did it depress or frighten me.

One disastrous plane crash affected me on a personal level: the explosion of the jetliner over Lockerby, Scotland. Hubby and I were driving to Houston to celebrate Christmas and I felt so sorry that families were experiencing such devastation at the holidays. All the way to Houston we tuned in to the reports of that crash. I bring lots of emotion to Christmas which may be, for me, why this particular disaster has held more meaning. And somehow 250 people dead seems more manageable to me than the 6,000 that died on September 11. Maybe it’s the magnitude of the 9/11 disaster that has me stymied.

Anyway, because of my sense of remoteness from the events of September 11, 2001, I asked my readers to explore with me their “flashbulb memories” from this date, as well as others that hold significant impact. An even dozen readers responded – maybe that’s prophetic in itself.

Common themes throughout these remembrances include shock, disbelief, and the need to find space to try and get a gripe on a world gone haywire. We clearly get our news now from TV, but back in the ‘60’s we listened to radio, too. A disaster affects us more if we’ve personally met a victim. No one mentioned feeling personal fear or depression on 9/11. When youth die unexpectedly, we seem to feel greater shock. JFK’s death has affected us the most deeply, but that’s because the majority of my readers are over 40 years of age. None of us remember Pearl Harbor Day, but have parents that do.

Monta

The youngest of Milly’s readers, Monta is a mom with the most children. She has four beautiful tykes, Bailey, Sabrina, Jillian, and a new little boy. During my very first gig at The We’re #3 TeleCom Company, working as a temp, Monta took me under her wing and showed me how to get around and get along. We’ve corresponded ever since. She’s now a full time mom with a traveling husband and two school age children and lives in Overland Park, Kansas.

On that fateful Tuesday I was going about my usual routine of getting my two little ones ready for our weekly Tuesday play group. Of course, I had Dragon Tales blaring and all the other PBS cartoons but it was on my Direct TV so there were no TV news bulletins.

My neighbor Melinda called and said "Do you have the TV on? Turn on the news. My dad just called and a plane flew into one of the Twin Towers in NYC."

I still had no feeling of "this is real" but I turned on the news and saw utter chaos. I didn't understand what happened. My playgroup meets at 9:30 so I continued to get ready to go. Probably as I was walking my kids to the playgroup the second plane hit. I knew nothing.

At our neighbor's house, Carey rushed in, red faced, and ran straight to the TV. She had lived in New York and was a flight attendant! She said she had been calling and trying to e-mail all her friends on the East Coast. This was when it started to sink in that this was a real thing.

Then the Pentagon was being hit and who knew where else in the US they would send something to destroy us. Just then another girl, Cassie, ran in the door crying. She had also lived in New York and was terrified that friends of hers were dead. Someone said the school voice mail was reporting you could go get your children from school. I called my husband who was already on his way home from work and asked him to get the kids at school. I packed up and headed home.

Later that day I had to get away and let my feelings out so I took a jog. I jogged three miles that day but normally I only jog two.

I will always remember that day and the way I felt. I held my kids in my house like a mother hen. I wanted to go in the basement and hide.

I also clearly remember when the space shuttle blew up. I was in college at Pittsburg State University (Pittsburg, Ks). I was working in the Communications department and our job was typing dittos for the teachers. All of a sudden this flighty girl ran through the halls screaming, “The space shuttle blew up!” over and over and over. I thought she needed a tranquilizer. Everyone was asking “What?” and then we were all glued to the little bitty transistor radio that was in the secretary's office. When we got home, we watched it over and over on TV.

Cynthia

Cynthia is friend from Houston, Texas. We celebrated Christmas in her home for three years. She teaches high school in Houston and coaches her school’s golf team. She originates from New England.

The impact of 9/11 did not have the same effect of remembering what I was doing as the JFK assassination did. On 9/11 I was in school and did not have a class at the time. A message came over the intercom to check out TV as some of us were not working and we had been having a problem. Of course, being the good teacher that I am, I checked my TV. It was about five seconds before the second plane crashed into the Twin Towers. My first thought was, “This must be a replay of a mid air collision.” Even when they announced that this was the second plane to crash into the towers, I still couldn't believe what was happening before my very eyes. Within minutes there was talk of a plane heading to and crashing into the Pentagon and talk of another possible problem in Pennsylvania. I was blown away and in shock. Of course, we never shut the TV off and the rest of the day didn't get much better.

I remember the JFK assassination more vividly because I really felt like I had a personal relationship with the Kennedy family. The night before the presidential election, Kennedy was at Boston Garden at a rally. Of course, one was supposed to have tickets to get in. I was working for the telephone company with my rowdy friends who did lots of crazy things together. We decided that we were going to be there, tickets or no tickets. We walked around from entrance to entrance, trying to see what the possibilities were. Lo and behold, just as we were hitting one entrance and Kennedy was about to speak, a whole group of people decided to crash the door. We were swept along by mob mentality and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the steps to one of the rows watching and listening to JFK in person. What a memorable event it was!

His assassination blew me away because the country was still being swept along by the same fervor I experienced that night at Boston Garden. Anyhow, I was working for the telephone company at the time I heard about JFK. We were having lunch in the cafeteria and playing Kitty Whist which we did every day during lunch (breaks, too -- you would be amazed how many games of cards we could play during a 15 minute break!). The women in the cafeteria announced that Kennedy had been shot and they were trying to get more info on the radio. Of course, TV's weren't the basic mode of communication in those days. When the shock settled in and we went back to the card playing mode, or at least to pick up the cards, someone had just played the ace of spades and it was still sitting there on the table. I will never forget this.

Micki

Though a New York resident for six months of the year, Micki was on Fire Island when the attack occurred, where she lives the other six months. She reports that most of her information about 9/11 came from Peff, her best friend in New York City. She defers her account to Peff. Micki is an internet friend, owned by two Chihuahuas, Sadie and Comet. She has two businesses, an employment agency in New York and a house cleaning concern on Fire Island.

When I heard that JFK had been assassinated, I was a college student and only had classes in the morning. In the afternoon, I had a job at a real estate firm attempting to get listings on the phone. Our office was in a storefront on a busy street. Through the plate glass windows I saw people "rushing about" and talking in small groups outside but I didn't know what had happened until a salesman who had been showing a house came in and told us. The rest of that afternoon is a blur.

Nancy

Nancy lives in a suburb of Washington, DC. Nancy is owned by numerous pets, including three white German shepherds. Another of my e-mail pals, her internet name is Vixxen – typical of Nancy’s irreverent humor.

I am amazed at how totally incredibly STUPID I was, looking back. I had had the sound off on the TV, but the picture on, in my bedroom. I got up out of bed to use the bathroom, glanced at the TV and saw one of the replays of the first plane hitting. As I made my way through dogs and cats, I thought, "Gawd, look at that plane hitting a big building! What happened/When/Last night?/What?"

When I came back, I turned the sound on, and heard it was the World Trade Center. I thought, "JESUUUZZZ! Isn't that building big enough to be missed!!!??? How stupid was that pilot!!"

I threw some clothes on and ran down to let workmen in and turned the front room TV on. Then I heard of the second plane. (Now, brace yourself for the most incredibly stupid thoughts a human could have, okay?) I thought, "JESUSZZZZ!!! What's happening here? ANOTHER pilot must've been distracted by the first plane and look what he did!"

I went to the front and called to the workmen. They'd come to fix my house intercom “thingie,” I dunno what ya call it. I opened the front door and said, "C'mere, c'mere! You won't beLIEVE this!!"

When they saw the TV, it was ONLY then and ONLY when one of them said to me, "It's gotta be terrorists", that I thought it could be.

When I heard the reporter on the Today show, reporting from the Pentagon, saying he felt “something” like a bomb, I thought he must've been overreacting, or something.

Then our lives changed.

On the day Kennedy was assassinated, I recall our principal coming over the PA system (do schools still use those?), and saying our President had been shot. I went to Catholic grade school, St Sebastian's, in Pittsburg. She asked for our prayers. Sister Marietta led my class in prayers. I'll bet hardly any of us knew then that Kennedy was the first Catholic president, and that that in itself was a Very Big Deal.

Later, Sister Honoria addressed the school again. She was crying as she told us that President Kennedy had died. Seeing Sister Honoria in tears, now THAT made me realize that something awful had happened. Were we let out of school early, I am now wondering?

Anyway I ran home from the bus, with news for my mother (stay-at-home mom and big-time school volunteer): "Mom! MOMMMM!!...DID YOU HEAR..." I was cut short, as my mother was looking at the TV and she was crying.

That was how I learned that Bad Things happen.

I'm crying now. This is too much to write.

Peff

A dancer and ballerina, Peff lives year-round in New York City. Her continuous stream of e-mails kept a huge group of friends connected during the 9/11 disaster. As a certified Feldenkrais practitioner, she volunteered her massage services for weeks to the rescue effort. She is owned by an apricot poodle, Rose Etoile. Her poodle Harry died during the 2001 holidays.

I was watching TV in my New York apartment about eight miles north of the Trade Centers. I saw on TV the second plane hit. I ran to the telephone and dialed my friend Micki on Fire Island and told her I was okay, and I would contact her later in the day.

Then I dialed my other friend in Florida whose son worked on the 80th floor of the Trade Towers. She said he had gotten out. Then my godson Rui called from Greenwich Village and told me his company had gotten out of #7, which was across the street. He had run ahead of the dust cloud.

I spent the next two days without phone service, although I could get onto the internet through the same phone lines that wouldn’t dial across the street. Somewhere in the archives of our internet group are my daily reports. New York will never be the same and yet the vitality sprang back very quickly. We have such gumption here.

After the events of 9/11, I think I will always remember writing down 16 names of people to find, including my own son, and two godsons. I will always remember how beautiful the day was, so sunny and bright. After the tragedy, whenever I took Harry and Rose out for walks, people were eating, eating, and eating.

During the time of Kennedy’s assassination, I was in South Bend, Indiana on the Camelot tour. The news was on TV and the hotel staff was so angry that our producers would insist that we open and do the performance that night, they turned off the electricity in our hotel and wouldn’t serve us in the restaurants or shops. The only thing to do was to stay in our hotel rooms until it was time to go as a group to the theatre. I left the TV on and read Jonathon Livingston Seagull from cover to cover that day.

The theater was full and totally silent when the curtain went up. At the moment when Sir Lancelot raises Sir Dinadan from the dead, the actor refused to move. Sir Lancelot prayed twice and we all prepared to run for the exits if there was a riot. But when he rose from the litter, suddenly the audience started to shout and clap and cry and applaud. They stayed through the whole performance.

When we got back to the hotel there was a dinner in every room, clean towels, hot water and the electricity was back on, a miracle for us that night, because we all needed a beautiful miracle.

JFK loved Camelot, and the theatre has always been where people could come to see overwhelming emotions expressed and be moved or carried away or healed in some way.

At the time of the Martin Luther King assassination I was teaching black, Hispanic, Asian, and Caucasian teenagers to be living, dancing artists in the high school of Performing Arts

When John Lennon was assassination I was in New York and had just finished a performance at the Metropolitan Opera. By the time I came out of the theater, 72nd street, where his apartment building was, had been cordoned off. I didn’t find out until I saw the news later that evening.

Elaine

Elaine is the mother of one son and tends to two rescue dogs, Midi and Dancer. She and her husband live near Detroit, Michigan, where she works as a full time wife and mother. She grew up in St. Louis, MO.

In the spring of 1968, I was completing my freshman year at Southeast Missouri State in Cape Girardeau, Mo. Cape is a small city about 130 miles south of St. Louis so we were all surprised when we were told that Bobby Kennedy, who was running for President, would be coming to Cape for a rally. My friends and I were really excited. That morning, we arrived very early and were able to stand right in front of the stage. After speaking, Bobby reached out to shake hands and I was pushed aside but still got to "brush" hands with him. I was so thrilled!

A few weeks later on the morning of my American History Two final, I awoke to find that Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated a few hours before. I went to my final in a sort of daze. I remember my professor, who knew of my support of Bobby, asking me if I would like to take the final later. I took it anyway because all I wanted to do was go back home to St. Louis.

Sarah

Sarah and her husband Doug are members of the church we attend. Sarah owns a spunky little rescue dog, lives in the historic Northeast section of our city, only two doors from her mother (this is one fabulous mother/daughter relationship), and works at a local hospital

It used to be "people of a certain age" always asked each other: “where were you when?” Since I am forty something it was always: “Where were you when Kennedy was shot?” I remember being in second grade at Briarcliff school. Miss Lovell was crying and trying to explain to all of us that the president was shot. It was a clear crisp day in November and Miss Lovell had on a blue sweater set and her hair was in a flip (the Marlo Thomas from That Girl look). I remember wondering why the sun was shining and it was so pretty if everyone was so sad. It was on television for days and they showed us so many details and personal things about the Kennedy family. I remember as a child feeling sorry for them because everyone was watching them all the time. I also remember being out of school for a long time, with the funeral, a day of mourning, and Thanksgiving. It was as if time stood still for days.

As for the trade center, it was strange that morning. I was running late for work and in the car with the radio on when an NPR spokesperson told in a shaky voice what had just happened. That was plane one. I ran into the office and someone had the TV on and was watching, as was everyone, in disbelief. When we saw plane two hit the other tower, we thought it was a replay and no one could speak. The people in our office sat and watched all morning what was on TV. No one could move. One of my best friends is a retired flight attendant for TWA. She flew for 30 years and her daughter is currently flying for United. I tried to contact her to see if family was okay. It felt like an obsession to reach her.

It is odd about death and events we remember. Closure sometimes does not come. As a child my father was taken ill suddenly. I went to a friend's house and two days later my mother came over to get me and told me my father was dead.

My stepfather died suddenly of a cerebral aneurysm on New Years. Again I had no time for goodbyes. Doug's mother was ill for a while, but was fine when we went to have dinner at my folks on Thanksgiving. We were called in the middle of dessert. She was taken to the hospital unresponsive. She never woke up.

My mother’s father lived into his late 90's at home alone. One day he fell and broke a hip and was taken to the hospital. He was told he could never go home alone again and live in his house. He died that day.

I often feel this lack of closure in my life. I tell my mother and husband all the time how much I love them and what they mean to me. I do not want to leave any more doors open in my soul when the time comes. I need closure.

Donna

Another Houstonian, Donna has been a friend for over 20 years. She currently works as a director for a university school of nursing. Also, she’s a six foot something slim, gorgeous, dynamic “broad” who takes in stray cats and is leading a passionate internet life.

I'm not going to be much help in this project as I live way too much in the current moment and make very little effort to remember where I was when . . . however 9/11 is close enough. I first learned of the event in the lobby of my office building as I was walking in to work. A TV monitor was on in the lobby and I walked in just in time to hear what had happened and then see the second plane crash into the tower.

The following day was the groundbreaking ceremony for my new building and the first executive committee meeting of the community volunteers who raise money for the School of Nursing. I had to struggle all day to keep my assistant focused on the job of getting the final touches put on the groundbreaking, including changing the program and the speakers' scripts to include references to the event and the people. Also, I had to try to keep the volunteers focused. No one else in my office was working -- just watching TV-- all day. By the end of the day I learned that the president of the university and my dean had serious conversations about canceling the groundbreaking. You can just imagine what I thought of that -- after the fact. We did have a record breaking crowd the next day.

Robert

Every writer must have both sexes represented in her reading public, and Robert’s my male voice –he represents everything male one could wish for (sports enthusiast, speed freak, and owner of all things dark and masculine). He’s also an employee of The We’re #3 Telecom Company where we met about six years ago. He’s the father of an active son and two very large and well trained dogs. He lives in the country on acres of land, where he houses his motorcycle, sports car, skies, and speed boat.

OK, here's the stream:

I don't know if I will remember. There are key events that at the time I did not know would be so firmly etched in my mind.

One was when I heard that Elvis had died. I was driving my father-in-law's RV down I-35 on a sunny day. It's a bit odd, in that while I like Elvis, I'm not a big fan. At the time, I had only a couple of 45's. It just seemed so unexpected.

The other thought that comes to mind is when John F. Kennedy died. What struck me was the affect on those around me. To understand this you need to know the situation. I was only seven, and living in Bergamo Italy.

American's were not well liked. At each recess, I was in “protective custody” to keep me from being in fights. Yet, when this American died there was a big display of emotion and sadness. A little hard for a seven year old to process. We heard the news at night.

Wendy

Wendy is little sister to hubby. She lives in Houston with two foundling cats. We spend EVERY Christmas with her and she spends Thanksgiving with us, and if we’re really lucky we might get some time together in the summer. Wendy’s the BEST family! She’s just moved into new digs, so she’s a bit scattered at the present. She’s retired from a big oil company. By the way, Wendy’s memory of the JFK assassination is probably correct, since it occurred in 1963 and she would have been in seventh or eighth grade at the time.

I was sleeping when the towers were hit. Cynthia called me from school and said "Turn on the TV!" My brilliant response was "Huh?"

"Turn on the TV! They've hit the World Trade Centers! Turn on the TV! I'll call you back later!"

So I fumbled my way to the TV and woke up to an agitated newscaster reporting disaster.

I might not remember these events for eternity but my seared memory is probably more of sitting at home watching the planes hit the building over and over and over again. Moving from couch to recliner to Lazy-Boy and then reversing the restless cycle. No improvement by changing the perspective. And only the cats to share the restlessness with.

I was too young to remember Pearl Harbor but I do remember Mom's story about Uncle Stuart coming home from college for his birthday (that day) and no one remembering it.

It's funny, I have a very clear memory that I have long associated with hearing about JFK's death, but in thinking about it for this exercise I realize it can't possibly be the right one. I remember being in my elementary school and an announcement being made over the PA system and I was extremely upset. One boy started to make jokes and I jumped (verbally) all over him. I know I was practically the only kid in that school from a Democratic family and I remember feeling pretty isolated in my grief. But I graduated from high school in 1967, so I was no where near elementary school age for JFK's death... I wonder what did happen then. And I wonder what I was doing when I heard about JFK's death.

I remember the Robert Kennedy assassination well. I was living in the college dorm and I was walking from my room to the showers. I heard a radio news announcer talking about the tragic death and its circumstances. As I progressed along the hall one radio would fade out and another would become audible. Some just barely audible. It wasn't normal to have news instead of music as the dominant dorm wake-up and it was eerie. And even though I never heard his name the scraps of information I did hear made me suspect the victim's identity. I slowed and slouched more all the way to the showers. When I got back to the room I was glad that my roommate was still asleep so I could put off knowing for sure for a little longer.

Re assassinations in general: I remember when it seemed that murders of prominent leaders were happening on a regular basis. When I talked about being upset about this with friends, I included some right wing baddie. My mind is mush right now (been headache lately so the synapses are probably misfiring) so I don't remember the exact details of who it was. Norman Lincoln Rockwell? (I remember it sounded like, but wasn't the painter.) He was the head of the American Nazi party or the KKK or some such. I had heard that he was also assassinated and I felt it was just as big a problem that the bad guy leaders were getting killed as the good guy leaders. My including him seemed to mystify my friends.

There are things that I remember vividly but the more vivid the more intensely embarrassing or intimate the moments, so they aren't ones I share in writing. I do think the dearth of my answers to some of these specific questions just proves my sister's and my contention that we have wiped out a major part of our early memories. And I seem to continue doing it. Don't know much about myself over three or four years ago.

Emily

Emily lives in San Francisco and has a whole den of “pound” doggies that she mothers. She’s taken early retirement, for which I envy her greatly. She’s an internet friend who exchanges dog advice with me. Emily has a vast and valuable LP collection. Her list, though briefly described, contains the longest list of memorable events.

I was engaged in these activities when I heard the news of these deaths:

9/11: occurred while I was sleeping

Kennedy: heard at work

Mayor George Moscone: heard at work

Elvis: heard at home

Challenger Explosion: heard at work

Muddy Waters (my favorite Blues musician): heard while driving home

Anwar Sadat: learned from the news

Adi

Adi is my international friend, living in Singapore. She’s married, has a new miniature Schnauzer pup, and is the only professional writer among us (which you’ll immediately recognize when you read her thoughts). She’s the second youngest of the group and the only one with "sometimes” pink hair and a yen for a tattoo. Oh, yeah –she’s the artistic type, too – she’s the one with a MAC. And she spells British.

I work as a newspaper copy editor. September 11 last year was an uneventful working day. At 9 pm, just an hour before the paper would be closed for pre-press and printing, I was casting an idle eye on the wires. I don't do this every night but as the foreign editor was off that day, and I had already finished my work, I just kept an eye on the wires for the want of something else to do. I didn't expect any major breaking news. I expected we would knock off in an hour and we could all go home soon.

A news flash from AP caught my eye. It was just a one-liner: A light craft had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York.

I alerted the night editor and we decided to make a little space for it on an inside foreign page. At that time, there was no news of injuries or damage. Because the news flash said a light craft, I thought it was a Cessna. I was thinking of the German guy who landed one at Moscow's Red Square some years ago and thought some idiot must have tried to do it in front of WTC or tried to fly between the towers or something.

Nothing could have prepared the night crew for what would happen next. Reports started coming in thick and fast through the wires. AP would file, so would Reuters and AFP. Someone turned the TV on to CNN. The information was coming so fast, we hardly had time to digest a report before another update came in.

I saw the second plane crash on CNN. I thought at first someone managed to get a shot of the first crash and they were replaying it, the way news stations often do. It took a while to sink in that there was a second crash and I was watching it as it happened.

And when I couldn't believe what I was watching on TV, minutes later, a news flash on the wires on my computer would confirm what I couldn't digest from the TV.

When I saw it on the TV, I felt like it was a disaster movie. That it wasn't real, somehow. And since the TV cut from New York to the Pentagon and back again, it felt more like a movie than anything. I felt like part of me had detached away from my real self in the newsroom, like I was part of a sound stage of a disaster movie.

I sent an email to my group of friends on the Internet. We're a closely knit group of dog lovers, most of them are in the US. Over the years, this group has shared my joys, held me through my sorrows and if anyone could put my feet back on reality, this group would.

I still remember my message. It was a very terse: "WTF is happening in the US???"

People whom I've worked with know that I can swear a blue streak when I'm stressed or irritated. But I've never used this language with this group of cyber friends whom I respect very much. If anybody was shocked, they didn't remark on it. Their answers came back, one by one. Yes, they were watching it on TV. Yes, they were shocked, confused, upset.

By now, it was three, four hours since that single-line newsflash I first saw. That little space the night editor reserved for the news now became front page, two inside pages and a wrap-round.

Stories were constantly being re-written as more news broke and more reports confirmed. We worked without stopping for those four or so hours but we didn't realise so much time had gone past. When the paper was finally off to pre-press, nobody went home. We gathered round the TV, glued to CNN, till the editor came to pry us away from it. Go home, he said, rest up, there will be more shit tomorrow.

Yes, I will always remember what I was doing on 9-11. I will never forget that single-line news flash and what unfolded after that. I won't forget the images that came over the picture wires and on TV and the horror and despair. Even half a world away, we felt when the towers fell.

In conclusion –

I believe Adi gave this piece an adequate conclusion. I’m certainly not able to add any other deep thoughts. If, like me, you’ve had difficulty adjusting to what the media now calls the “new world – the world after 9/11” maybe the writings of these friends will help you assimilate. We’ve had the six month anniversary. Those of us not directly affected seem to have resumed our lives, pretty much as before. The financial news says the economy is beginning to rebound. We hear reports of rebuilding in New York. The Pentagon is open and doing war business as usual. The airplanes are flying but with increased security and frustration on the part of the passengers. War began in Afghanistan, but certainly never reached the proportions I feared it could. Now we hear that war is winding down, but may begin again in another terrorist outpost. Still, the wars are fought on foreign soils. Because I’m old now, my generation isn’t fighting. I seem to be “untouched” by all the misery caused on September 11, 2001. Fireballs erupted as planes crashed into skyscrapers. The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center crumbled into dust. Grime-encrusted New Yorkers ran for their lives. The tireless heroic effort by New York City's firefighters, police, rescue workers and Good Samaritans from around the globe continued for hours, days, and months. Certainly, I can claim that horrific images are shown on television over and over have become part of my flashbulb memory, but my life continues, pretty much business as usual.

9/11 -- a day late

2011-09-12T13:40:00.005-05:00

I remember 9/11/2001 clearly.

I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when I heard that a plane had struck one of the twin towers. I think I first heard it on NPR so I turned on the TV. As I stood there watching and brushing, the second plane hit the towers. I couldn't fathom it was a terrorist attack. I also couldn't believe that a pilot couldn't see the Tower and had struck by error. The whole thing was just . . .unbelievable. It still is.

Going into the #3 Telephone company where I was happily employed as a contractor, most of us just stood around in the aisles outside our cubicles, asking each other what we knew, what we had heard, what we supposed might have actually happened.

The Sunday following 9/11, standing in the choir loft, and wondering what we could possibly sing that was inspirational, we debated how to carry on with regular worship. We had an interim pastor at the time, a wonderful, decent, soul-searching man and we loved him. He met with us and spoke with Hubby, who was the choir director. He thought my suggestion that Hubby open the service singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" was a good one. So we all sat down, the pastor sat in the front pew, and the congregation was silent. Hubby stood and sang. His voice was magic, it soothed us, it spoke of the pain we felt and how we wanted to reach out to all the dead and wounded and lost in New York, Washington, D.C., and Pennsylvania. At the end of the song, when Hubby had wrenched our hearts with "When you walk through a storm . . . " and then soothed our pain with the final words "Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain, but you'll never walk alone" the Pastor came forward, knelt at the prayer rail and prayed, silently. He stayed, kneeling for maybe 10 minutes in silence. When he turned, he said to the congregation, "No message can be more profound than the one we just heard. No other words could bring about more healing. Come and pray as you feel the urge, then leave us in contemplation and peace." And the service was over.

Hubby's voice, raised in one of the most beautiful and prayerful of songs, is my strongest memory of that terrible tragic time ten years ago.

Hugs and a Cheesecake

2011-09-09T10:10:00.007-05:00

Yesterday I told my students about my mom dying. I also warned them I would be gone from school next week.

My first block students were horrified that 1) I'd be gone ALL next week ("Who will help us?") and 2) that my mother had died.

Andrea looked at me with real concern. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Thank you," I replied.

"My mom died, too," she added and her eyes pooled with tears.

At that, so did mine. "I'm so sorry," I repeated to her. And we held hands for just a second.

Johnisha asked what she could bring me. I told her that her good wishes were enough.

"No. I will bring you something."

Today she showed up first block with a huge strawberry cheesecake. And a letter. It was the letter that was priceless. She had written it in pencil on thin lined paper and she had filled the page with deeply heart-felt sentiment. She quoted the Bible, she quoted her mother, and she told me she loved me. It was the sweetest letter I've ever gotten from a student. I may frame it. I will certainly treasure it always.

We will eat the cheesecake 4th block with her fellow students. That will undoubtedly be the best cheesecake in the world.

In first block, World History, as I was preparing my kids to be ready for a quiz on Monday (because I would not be there), the kids were glum. Then the teacher told the kids that their homework assignment was to tell their parents that they loved them. My crew, all ten girls, looked straight at me.

Megan said it first. "I love you, Mrs. Wiggins."

"Why, sweetie, I love you, too."

The bell rang and as each girl filed out, they leaned over and hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I love you Mrs. Wiggins." One from Iraq, two from Nepal, one from someplace Asia, and the rest SPED.

I could barely get out of the room without breaking down.

So much love from kids who live a harder life in one day than I've ever really had to face. That much affection, offered so freely and without any encouragement, simply must make one feel -- I'm not sure what to say. Feel overwhelmed? Yes. Special? Certainly. Lucky? Beyond a doubt.

The gift of love is the most precious one you can receive. Today I was loved beyond measure.

Thank you world for this opportunity. The work may be hard -- but the rewards are beyond compare.

Happy Birthday -- and Goodbye

2011-09-07T15:55:00.005-05:00

I had actually planned that today I would show a picture of my mom -- and wish her a Happy Birthday. She turned 86 today. In the middle of August I sent her a velour robe from the Vermont Country Store -- in red, her favorite color. I think she liked getting presents from me, even though she didn't send any in return. In early August Hubby had chatted with her briefly on the phone. She mentioned that I sent her gifts four times a year.

We had our difficulties. Mother never approved of Hubby. I didn't like her drinking. Neither one of us could give on the big issues in our lives -- so we ended up going our separate ways.

She was an only child. All her relatives are now dead, save me. I am an only child.

Happy Birthday, Mother.

Today the phone call came. She died during the night -- of her 86th birthday. Now only I am left of generations of Hills and Griffiths. Everyone is gone.

We may not have been close during the last 38 years -- but the memories that I carry from our early years can be sweet and I'll try and put the ugliness behind me forever.

When I heard from her lawyer I felt an emptiness I had not expected. The call, though attempting to be gentle, was cold and clinical. She was gone and my last family ties were cut forever. Goodbye, Charlotte Hill Griffith. I wish it could have all been better for us . . .

Happy Labor Day

2011-09-05T12:50:00.003-05:00

We're having a quiet celebration here in the heartland. On Saturday we did the shopping -- a Walmart run for extra undies for Hubby to tide him over until I feel like washing, two new big waste baskets for the kitchen and the bedroom -- and lots of sundries for the bathroom. Then after a quick $100 visit to Sam's, we loaded up on barbeque from the local Jack Stack's, and headed home for unloading and then a long nap. Sunday we watched a lot of TV and had a fine dinner at Olive Garden, nice, tasty Italian can be a very welcome meal. I spent the afternoon making sure the kitchen was, if not spotless, at least a whole lot cleaned up from the last two weeks of Hubby's cooking.

This morning Hubby got served breakfast in bed -- sausage, ciabatta bread, scrambled eggs, banana and melon compote, and orange breakfast tea. He's got leftover meatloaf in the fridge for snacking. There's a small watermelon waiting to be sliced. The diet cherry Pepsi is cold. Finally there's an iced pumpkin spice loaf cake or a box of mint ice cream sandwiches for the sweet tooth (Hubby gets the ice cream, I'm the cake). I think another nap may be called for and a long read with the Kimble. Doggies are happy with the quietness and the naps while cuddled next to us on the bed. The weather is perfect and football games will be telecast. All in all, a lovely day.

September -- Goodbyes and Hellos

2011-09-03T11:03:00.005-05:00

Goodbye to:

When one starts school at the beginning of August, it feels that summer has been truncated into only a two month span. It also seems like I've been in fall for the past month, even with 100+ temperatures nearly every week. But with the start of September, I'm willing to celebrate fall -- even if the crisp weather is still at least 30 days away and leaves won't start changing colors for another six weeks. So . . .

Hello to:

Double Bounty

2011-09-02T14:27:00.003-05:00

I have two angels who supply my urban core classroom with supplies. At the start of the year they made sure every one of my students had notebooks, paper, dividers, white-out, pens, pencils, erasers, high-lighters, and index tabs. Every single kid on my caseload started out school with every supply needed for every class. What a difference this has had in the progress we are seeing in the classroom!

Today a Lincoln town car trunk load of groceries was delivered. We got fruit, pudding, crackers, cookies, Chef Boyardee bowls of pasta. It took two flat bed trucks to unload all the food and cart it to my classroom.

I had the kids in my Work Studies program make the food haul on the flatbeds. You should have seen their eyes when Hubby raised the lid on the trunk and laid out was ALL that wonderful food.

After unloading and rolling the flatbeds into the elevator to haul it all to the third floor, the kids were silent as they surveyed the bounty. Finally, my freshman spoke up.

This guy is from the behavioral disordered school that was closed for budgetary reasons this year. He's not been in a regular school for the last three years because he's violent, threatening, and disruptive. He is standing in his sagging pants and baseball cap next to the back flatbed, looking over the boxes and boxes of granola bars.

"Miss. Where did all this food come from?"

My senior, who knows everything and loves to share it, spoke up immediately. "Mrs. B and her husband provide us with the food. They buy it at Sam's. Hubby (which is how my kids know Hubby) went along with them this trip and then brought it to us."

The freshman boy stared at the other cart, loaded to the top with food.

"Miss. I didn't know that you knew people who hijacked Sam's trucks."

I guess that says it all, Mrs. B and Mr. C. It was inconceivable to my kids that someone could actually purchase this much food at one time.

The "thank you's" were in their eyes and their response to knowing that for the next several months, when they were hungry (and they are almost always hungry), they would be getting some decent food to eat. Not chips, not sweets. But fruit cups and fruit roll ups and healthy granola bars.

The food is safely put away now, stored in our closets and our storage bins. I won't have to share my sandwich on Tuesday with the cheerleader who has practice until 5 p.m. but lives on her own and hadn't had more than hot chips to eat for the past week. The boys who are starved by 11:30 will have granola bars to tide them over until third lunch at 12:20. The kid who needs meds in the morning won't be throwing them up because they were taken on an empty stomach.

This support provided by "anonymous" angels who really only get to meet the kids at the Christmas celebration will help us, not just survive, but thrive, during the school year.

Once again, Debby and Lou -- WE LOVE YOU!

Schnauzers -- In My Opinion

2011-08-29T10:12:00.004-05:00

I've been asked a couple of times about owning Schnauzers.

Here's the scoop:

They are sturdy which is why Hubby really likes them - but they are also fairly small. The normal miniature Schnauzer weighs in at about 22 pounds. But like terriers they are solid and strongly built. Of course the new trend is to breed smaller and smaller -- so now you can find some that weigh in at 10 to 12 pounds -- but normal size is around 22 - 24 pounds
They do not shed -- BUT and this is a big B U T -- they do require grooming. So if you don't want to mess with a poodle because of the poodle cut, you probably don't want a Schnauzer either. I pay $40 a piece ($80 a month) to groom my Schnauzers with a true Schnauzer cut. Now you can shave them down -- but if you do that, please, please do not cut off their lovely little beards. A bald Schnauzer is a terrible sight to behold, in my opinion.
They are not the most friendly of dogs. They bond closely with their family and then try like to shut others out. If you have a kid (or kids), they will like your child. They may not like other children. They are also pretty territorial -- so they make good watch dogs. We always figure no one is breaking into the car when the two Schnauzers are guarding it. Fritzy was a snippy Schnauzer -- he would bite if you made him angry. Milly, our first Schnauzer, also could display a temper. Wolfie, on the other paw, loved everybody. Gus and Luie are pretty friendly, too. Luie makes noise because he wants to first find out where you are standing and second see if he can tell if he knows you.
Schnauzers yip. A lot. They just make noise. They talk to their owners. They yap at other dogs. They greet the mail people. They kick up a storm when the pizza guy comes. You have to like noise to own a Schnauzer.
They love. Not like a lab or a setter. But you will find none more loyal to his family than a Schnauzer.
They rule. They dominate their owners, other dogs, and the entire household. However, they are also smart enough to know exactly who is alpha in a household. So, in our house, everyone knows that Hubby is the dominate figure. Fritzy used to try to usurp me and periodically I'd have to remind him that I was second in command. Gus and Luie are more laid back -- or smarter -- and though Luie would love to come third in the house rankings, he understands that neither Hubby or I will allow Gus to lose his standing now that Fritzy is gone. You can watch a Schnauzer to see how he sees himself in the household -- they will align with the alpha person. So Milly and Fritzy were Hubby's dogs. Wolfie adored me. Gus honestly doesn't care - he's a slut for love, whoever will give it. And Luie -- well, Luie is a dog unto himself. He loves. He plays. And he has a sense of humor. So Luie is in it for the laughs. Luie is a bit zealous in trying to be friendly - but being blind he's actually just trying to figure out if he should know you and where you've been.

Now if any of that seems to fit the dog you are think you could love -- find yourself a pound Schnauzer. Lots of rescue organizations are out there for them -- Luie came from a rescue in Oklahoma. However, Milly came from Wayside Waifs. Fritzy and Gus come from the pound in Ottawa, Kansas. Wolf was found half dead by a couple in Kearney, MO. All of them our guys have been rescues. And honestly, I think that makes for an even-tempered, loving, trainable best friend (or son or daughter, in our case).

I forgot to add . . . .

2011-08-28T15:48:00.005-05:00

To the little pieces of pleasure I just wrote about, I wanted to add that I was wickedly pleased to be proven right one more time about the Kansas City School District.

I have to admit -- and it's really horrible of me -- that I felt so vindicated in my constant iteration that the Kansas City School District simply is UNfixable. John Covington has resigned after only spending two years here in KC. The media has been in a whirl. Charges have been levied. Blame has been cast. But it's at the wrong source and to the wrong people.

I don't care why the man resigned -- new job or not -- he DID resign and once again the KCMOSD cannot keep a superintendent.

All the hew and cry goes on about what actually happened -- and civic leaders claim the city still needs to find a superintendent that can think outside the box -- BUT no one in the city looks around at the local districts that actually are succeeding with inner-city kids (think KCK) and how they managed to do it.

What has KCK and Blue Springs and surrounding districts done that was smart? They've hired internal candidates that have dedicated years to the district they now manage. They understand the districts they lead because they have worked within them. They know the problems. They know the staff. They know the parents and they know they kids. They know what is possible to get done. They know the state requirements. They don't have to go to other cities to find competent executive staff -- they know which people have already dedicated their lives to the district -- and they reward that dedication.

What have we got in KC? A school board president with no job who has illegal contacts with district contractors. School board members who have taken the district for millions in federal court cases. Old KCMO teachers who have been part of the failing system for years. Pawns and dupes of the money men of KC. And finally a superintendent with no ties and no built in support or love for the area.

And we wonder why the KCMSD fails?

We've been doing this since 1970. 25 superintendents in 40 years. It's not going to change folks. Not until the prime players change. And they don't -- and we don't do away with 'em.

But you watch -- KCMO will hire an outsider yet again.

Some things just don't change -- and the KCMSD is one of them. And don't tell me that they can until we do away with the corruption we have allowed to take root here.

Throw the bastards out -- if you honestly do think the kids deserve a chance. I'm not at all sure that we do think that in Kansas City. These are just minority kids, after all. Educate 'em and you actually might be forced to hire them in your businesses. Or they might move into your neighborhood in Johnson County -- and live next door to you.

It's time for the state to take over. It's beyond time.

Little pieces of pleasure

2011-08-28T14:18:00.016-05:00

As August is winding down and school is winding up, here are some things that are making me feel happy:

A new pair of eye glasses for both Hubby and me. Though we had trouble getting just the right pair for him and had to return the first set each of us got (EyeMasters got nastier and nastier when Hubby explained he couldn't see out of the pair made for him), we both eventually ended up with better vision and good glasses frames. It took us finding a new shop and a fight with insurance but eventually we prevailed. Mine are Saks Fifth Avenue frames in a fun shade of rose and bordered with sparkles on the ear pieces. His are pretty similar to what he's always worn but fit him face much better than the old pair.

Dinner with friends during the first week of school. We were invited twice out for dinner. Once we had the best meatloaf ever and then we had a very comfort inducing meal of spaghetti and meat sauce. The food was great and we felt very beloved by our friends.

The prospect of the new Kaufman Music Hall opening in mid-September here in our city. Everyone is abuzz with concert plans and news of the performances scheduled for the fall concert season. Placido Domingo will be here for the initial concert and the opening three day concert extravaganza is already sold out. Hubby and I have tickets for at least four of the upcoming symphony events throughout the year. We are looking forward to actually having an acoustically correct symphony hall.

The prospect of fall weather approaching. We have had a terribly hot summer and the humidity has been beastly. Just the thought of crisp fall weather is invigorating.

The love of two sweet-faced, gentle hearted Schnauzers, especially little Gus who cuddles by my side every evening when I return from an exhausting day of teaching. Gus is the silver one -- Luie is the darker one and both are curled up on the clothing we had dumped in the back bedroom to sell on E-bay but instead just gave away to Goodwill.

My new HD DVR from Dish network -- that will record two shows at once and if I'm only recording one show, will let me watch any channel while it does the recording. Plus it holds 300 hours of regular TV and 30 hours of HD shows! The new features on this DVR are vastly improved and make TV watching a lot more fun.

The local HyVee grocery store which stocks excellent meat, high end gourmet products, and still manages to keep the prices low. Plus you almost never have to stand in line to make purchases and if you need assistance, they gladly offer it.

Dirty Potato Chips which I discovered in a grocery in Annapolis and thought I'd never find here at home. However, Hubby ran across them, not in my favorite HyVee store, but at a store even closer to home that sells gourmet products. Now I can have them every day for lunch. Also, those tuna sandwiches Hubby makes me for breakfast and lunch along with some grapes and apples mean I'm managing to get through work days with healthy eating.

The opening of school has been hard this year. I'm struggling to adjust and work with my collab partners. The gout has been on a real tear and I no sooner think I've licked it but it comes back worse than ever. I'm tired all the time and the heat exhausts me even more. The arthritis is very bad this year, especially when it rains. My case load is huge -- it's not been this big in the last five years. Also, the new students seem to bring with them deep emotional and behavioral issues. Being a mentor has not been the most pleasant experience, partly because I have to attend night meetings. The little things that add pleasure to my life mean a lot right now.

Answering the Request for New Material

2011-08-20T16:12:00.003-05:00

This pretty much sums it all up for the moment. Give me another week and maybe I can talk about it all coherently.

Much love to my friends Debby and Lou who have given our family support and sustenance this past week and certainly helped me make it through.

Midnight Madness

2011-08-09T16:02:00.003-05:00

Here's a little tip: if you have reflux and insomnia, do not take Class 2 drugs to fall asleep and then eat a fairly large snack of barbecued potato chips and onion dip. You will get a little bit of sleep -- but mostly, once you turn over on your stomach because you are so doped up you forget that you can not under any circumstances sleep on your stomach, the onset of the acid reflux will be so awful that you will be awake from midnight until it's time to arise (and try to shine -- but you can't because your still dopey from the lack of sleep and drugs).

That's the lesson for today, children.

And so it begins . . .

2011-08-04T20:08:00.004-05:00

Year 2011 - 2012. In teaching, it's my 28th year. In dog years . . . why I'd be dead.

Went to the school today, carried a load of stuff up to my room. It's in disarray but not as bad as I expected. I looked around, unloaded the crap I had brought over (summer magazines, a couple of new posters) and tried to decide how I felt about being "back." I didn't break down and cry. I didn't need to sit and compose myself. So I guess I felt, well, okay.

Downstairs on the first floor I mailed off my sealed transcript for my salary boost and felt, well, next to nothing. Talked with the registrar and tried to find out where this nice luncheon was that I had been invited to attend. Found out that it really wasn't a nice luncheon at all but a whole district affair with way too many people and was being held in our uncomfortable and inhospitable cafeteria.

In the cafeteria it was a zoo. Too many people and way too hot and noisy and loud. Finally found my school group, met my mentee (I'm her mentor), and with my principal's lead, we got in line for food. But they had just run out of food. Honestly. Can you believe that? They still had cookies and brownies which the new folks loaded up on, but in that heat I wasn't about to load up on sweet things.

All the new teachers hired by my principal are white. Jeez. The woman really does not have a clue. White. For a school with less than 10% white students. Everyone of us advised her at the end of the year to start putting some color into her staff composition -- but nope. Every single new hire is lily white.

Tried to decide how that made me feel and well, I felt tired. Not mad or upset. Just tired. Somethings just never change.

After our non-lunch I walked my mentee around the building and introduced her to the counselors, showed her where her room was located. We talked and talked. She's young. She seems to really want a job as a teacher -- she's been a paraprofessional for the last five years or so. She also seems a bit scared. She asked me four times if I was going to be at school on Monday to help her figure things out. "When will you get to school on Monday?" she asked twice.

Today I arrived at school at 11:30 and gratefully left at one. I departed very hot, very sweaty, and very tired. I had briefly met my two collab / co-teachers and each one seemed, well, okay. Even though I hadn't had lunch I wasn't hungry, though Hubby thoughtfully took me out and made sure I had something to eat.

I'm not sorry that school's starting, I guess. I'm certainly not thrilled, either. I'm, well, okay with it. And I'm still tired. Some things don't seem to change.

An Early Celebration

2011-08-03T18:29:00.004-05:00

School starts so soon (Mentor Lunch tomorrow, meet with sponsors on Friday, and first day back on Monday) -- but didn't want to miss celebrating this really wonderful event.

Love you little boy-o! You are a joy to both your papa and mama. Hugs and kisses!

Doctoring

2011-08-02T12:43:00.002-05:00

Last week Hubby and I did the optometrist. Both of us have cataracts but neither of us requires surgery -- yet. We did, however, need to get new prescriptions filled for new frames / lens so we could continue to see through our non-surgery-yet-eyeballs.

This week I've done both the physician and the dentist. Yesterday I met with my internist and got ALL the meds refilled. I'm now up to seven daily -- and honestly, I like all seven. My high blood pressure continues to be handled by the beta blocker -- but just barely. Stress has made both the wellness clinic and the internist look at me askance after taking the pressure reading. Celebrex is heavenly. You only need take it when the arthritis is really hurting -- and it doesn't affect the thinking or make you want to sleep. The gout medicine does make one want to sleep -- and I just learned I can't take it with the Celebrex -- but one only needs take it when the gout is flaring. The minute the gout stops, so do the pills. The other meds are just stuff to keep the body functioning and but nothing makes me feel bad or sad or loopy -- so it's all good.

Today, in the 109 degree heat, I ventured out to the new dentist. I finally decided it was time to move from the dental school -- and so I picked a dentist on the list for my insurance that was only a mile from my house. From his name I expected a middle aged white guy -- and white guy I got, but a young one with a sweet demeanor and a good dental assistant. All in all I was pleased with his technique -- especially since he didn't suggest any radical procedures, took the insurance without complaint -- and didn't charge me for the initial visit. Also he has really good office hours.

One of my goals this summer was to handle all my own medical issues and now that's been done. Guess I'm really for school for start on -- Thursday. Good grief! Thursday. Actually on Thursday I only have to attend a mentor luncheon. My principal assigned me the new SPED teacher on my floor -- she's new to the district but I googled her name and she looks to be pretty well grounded in all things educational, so I don't think I'll have to do much to mentor her. I get a small stipend for doing the mentoring -- about a thousand bucks but for that I have to attend a monthly meeting with the mentee and at least three dinners at the ed building. I'm not thrilled at the prospect but accepting the principal's appointment seemed politic so I reluctantly agree. Now all I've got to do is work up a positive attitude, something that, frankly, I really don't feel. Maybe if the weather will just cool down a little.

Catching up

2011-07-29T12:29:00.003-05:00

Had lunch with two long-lost friends this week -- actually wanted to type "old" friends but I am older than they. Both were from my days working for the #3 Telecom Company, a job I thoroughly enjoyed.

Wednesday's lunch was with a manager at the company and we had worked in adjacent cubicles. Smart, funny -- and one of the few white men I actually do kind of like . . . probably because he doesn't try to be anything other than a true "white man." Though he's definitely the type who has always believed he was destined to "rule" -- he also is smart enough to know that other folks can ride along side him and he's very open minded about life's issues. I enjoyed working with him greatly -- and also enjoyed getting to know him on a personal level. Luckily for me, he persisted in the friendship, even long after I left the #3 Telecom and through his efforts we remained in touch.

I'm a horrible friend once I don't see folks regularly. I get home and I just veg out. I don't call, I don't write, and I make excuses not to leave my little den to meet and catch up. My intentions are always good -- but then old friends find I'm not communicating and often they give up on me. However, I have a couple of folks who persist -- and Robert has been one of those.

On Thursday I had lunch with my old boss at the #3. She's a woman I truly enjoy and respect -- and the best boss I ever had on both a personal and professional level. I learned so much from my years working for and with her. Smart as a whip, she never lorded her intelligence over her employees. She was a caring person, decent, honest, and very perceptive both in the business world and with her friends and co-workers. She now lives several states over from ours but when she comes in town to visit family, she tries her best to stay in touch with old friends. I appreciate her efforts enormously. She remembers birthdays and has in the past sent on little presents that she was sure I'd like. I wish that she still lived in town.

Thursday was also Hubby's and my 33 wedding anniversary -- 38 years together. I sent Hubby a note on Facebook -- so he remembered -- and got us a cake from the French bakers in town. It was too hot to celebrate more than that. Plus I think we gave each other new spectacles as our present. Even with insurance those glasses cost a fortune.

Grades

2011-07-26T10:59:00.003-05:00

Now isn't this just the prettiest little grouping of charts you ever did see?

Department	Course	Course Title	Grade	Hours
SSLS	779	TCHG ELEM STU W/ADPTV LRNG NDS	A	3.00
SSLS	853	TCHG STUDNT W/FUNCTNL LRNG NDS	A	3.00

	P & Misc Credit	Hours Passed	Hours Taken	Grade Points	G.P.A
This Semester	0.00	6.00	6.00	24.00	4.0000
Cumulative	0.00	33.00	33.00	132.00	4.0000

I am proud!

See that grade point average in the second chart? 4.0. Only A's for 33 hours of work!

Going to go have a slice of watermelon to silly-brate!

PS -- just called the district office and sent off the E-mail forms for my official transcript -- at 30+ beyond my masters makes for a nice little salary boost as of 9/15. Every added incentive for working through this year does help.

New Technology Installed

2011-07-24T20:03:00.003-05:00

The title pretty much says it all. The TV has been connected to HD Dish satellite. Everything works. It only took three hours to get all installed.

We needed an HD satellite installed in the yard. Then the tech installed the HD receiver in the house and downloaded everything. But when I asked if any of my DVR recordings could be salvaged, he looked askance and said, "Oh. Did you want a DVR HD receiver?"

I went into my dance. No DVR, no Dish network. Take it all away. But the tech was young and sweet and said he had one in his truck and would contact "headquarters and get the new receiver installed pronto."

Of course, it wasn't pronto. I had to confirm with the home office. Then he actually didn't have a DVR HD receiver and had to go 15 miles away to get one. But eventually all was right in our TV world. And I got my dream of being able to record more than one show at a time.

The new TV is sweet. The newer DVR technology is exactly what I had been hoping for -- and instead of only 100 hours of DVR recordings, I can now save 350 hours. I'm still re-establishing all my timers but by weeks end things should be about back to normal.

We actually didn't need any connectors from the TV to Dish -- they provided everything for us (the $40 of cable can now go back to Sam's). My fees are going up by $6 a month -- and we're locked into Dish for another 24 months -- but I'm happy with the set-up and actually think the new technology is probably worth a tad more money. Hubby is happy with the new TV. We like the High Definition technology -- the picture really is a lot better and on the wide screen, the movie channels look really good. It's almost like being in a theater but we're laying around in bed with the dogs at our feet. We were stunned by pictures of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

Installation fees and new equipment fees were nil for Dish and the tech was friendly and helpful. He even stood around showing me all the bells and whistles on the new remote. All of which I have promptly forgotten.

Especially for my sister-in-law

2011-07-24T10:22:00.003-05:00

Have I told anyone lately that I love my Kindle?

I LOVE my Kindle!

Amazon is having a sale on Kindle books this week (until July 27th actually) and none are priced over $5.00. The ones I bought were $0.99 and $1.99 -- okay, I splurged and got one (only one, I promise) for $2.99.

The assortment is amazing. So amazing that I had to coordinate my Kindle with the computer. I'd read about all the hundreds of books on the computer and then order them from the Kindle.

In all I bought (around) 18 new books for my Kindle. Among the assortment:

Trader Joe's Cookbook -- I've already read 10% of it and I'm in love; KC just got its first Trader Joe's and the assortment of healthy, low sodium, no additive food is simply astonishing. And then there's the low, low prices! Now I can even cook creatively with their wares.
Cafe Luke's -- assorted essays on the Gilmore Girls. I adored the Gilmore Girl series. I own five of the seven DVD seasons and I've re-watched them on the Hallmark Channel.
2 short books purporting to tell strange and odd facts about the Revolutionary War and WWI -- both of which topics I have collaborated on in my social studies classes
the autobiography of Chuck Norris -- Hubby ADORES Chuck Norris; I might as well read up on him and the Amazon review sounded interesting
a whole heap of cozy mysteries -- just the odd title here and there so I could sample new series
some interesting novels claiming to be sweet and funny -- one always needs some uplifting literature in times of stress and disappointment
four young adult books that I can read to my students during silent reading period

I could have chosen a heap of religious literature, a lot of books on running and exercise (sister-in-law would never expect me to purchase either type of these), more cookbooks (it seems strange to me to read recipes off the Kindle -- here's where I'd rather have an actual book on my kitchen counter; the Trader Joe's book I can take into the store with me, so ha!), and many business type books but I'm looking forward to retirement. There were also many romances, children's books, histories, non-fiction works, and even some great literature works.

If you have a Kindle this is the time to stock up.

And in a side note to my sister-in-law, I LOVE my Kindle. It was worth every single penny. Thank you! You've given me some great gifts in the past, but I think I'm getting more enjoyment out of this one than any I've received in the past 20+ years.

An Involved Story

2011-07-23T21:37:00.006-05:00

Hubby and I are TV addicted. We don't watch it all that much (or maybe we really do, I'm not sure how much other people watch) but we have it on ALL the time. In our inner city neighborhood, Hubby uses it as a alarm system -- if the TV's on, surely someone is home. If we leave the dogs at home (like in this horrible heat), we think it keeps them company. Hubby claims he can't fall asleep without it being on. Then neither of us wake up to turn it off, unless a screaming killer kind of movie kicks in and I wake up. I have my shows I record on my DVR. Hubby has his 1950's through the 1980's shows that he likes to watch, repeats be damned. Gunsmoke is his newest addiction (and I hate it -- I never did like that series. Just too dark for me).

We are high paying members of the Dish network. We have been for over 16 years now. We subscribe to all the premium movie channels (but we avoid the sex and pay for view channels). We don't use our TV for the Internet and we don't have a Netflicks account, but our Dish does provide DVR service.

Some years ago when our 1980's TV gave out, Hubby brought home a 36 inch screen model with one of those huge back ends. Flat TVs had just come out on the market and were terribly expensive and Hubby was NOT, under any circumstances, paying over $500 for a TV. This TV was so big that he could not lift it by himself to the top of our bedroom dresser, where all our TVs have resided over the years. Once we had three working TVs but now we have just one and it's in the bedroom. He had to hire someone to put the TV on the dresser.

Two days ago the big, heavy TV (probably only 5 years old) would not turn on. No matter what Hubby tried, it just wouldn't come on. We decided to bite the bullet and go get a flat screen TV -- one under $500, of course.

Best Buy was having an Open Box sale which gave 10% off on the selected items, so we headed out across town in 101 degree heat to buy us a TV. We had about 10 choices from the Open Box items and he and I both agreed on the 43 inch screen. They wrapped it up and we brought it home. That is one B I G TV, let me tell you!

Now. We have all the paraphernalia to that goes with the Dish satellite. And we are part of this "secret society" that puts boxes in your house to keep track of what you are watching, every minute you are watching. We can't admit we are part of this society, as they sternly remind us every time they come and check out their equipment -- but this set up, too, means a lot of cords and wires and plugs and boxes. We laugh about being part of this "secret society" because we clearly aren't on any demographic watch list -- but every six months the "secret society" workers come by and renew the equipment, so we play along. But with all this wiring and "stuff" we couldn't make the new TV work. Hubby got it kinda hooked up to Dish and we kinda got a signal but it wasn't very good. Plus the remote simply wouldn't work at all.

So today, in 107 degree heat we took the TV back. This time we caved in and bought a much more expensive Panasonic in a box (so no discount) and we had to plunk down a lot more money than the $500 we had originally bargained for.

Getting the new TV home, we still couldn't hook up all the equipment. Hubby then realized that this new TV didn't come with all the plugs / cords you need to hook it into whatever system you are using. But because the TV we took back had had all the right cords, he was determined that Best Buy was going to give him the cords he needed. The cords from our behemoth TV wouldn't fit either of the new TVs.

Another trip back to Best Buy. We didn't take the TV with us but I saw in Hubby's eyes that if he didn't get his cords, the next thing was that we weren't keeping this unit either. Best Buy was as adamant as Hubby, of course. They don't give out cords.

Hubby stormed out of Best Buy; me trailing sadly behind. In the car, as Hubby huffed and puffed, I meekly suggested that, though I understood the principle behind his disgust, it really was hot . . . and maybe TVs today just didn't come with all the cables one needed to hook them into whatever system the buyer was using.

Hubby drove out of that parking lot and straight into Sam's Club where he started reading TV cartons and TV literature -- to prove to me he could get the cables he needed if he'd just purchase the right unit. I asked for a TV tech and Sam's sent us an older gentleman, who patiently showed Hubby what cables he would need -- and yes, he would need to buy them. And because our new TV is HD, he also sold us HD cables but explained that our Dish box would need to be replaced.

Back home, now in 110 degree heat, Hubby reads the manuals, pulls out all his plugs / cords and tries his best to make the new TV find the Dish signal. No luck. When I suggest we call Dish, Hubby storms off, because he's told me "ten thousand times we don't have the right cables."

But back in the computer room, I hear him talking with Dish. Now they aren't thrilled and they balk a bit, but after 45 minutes and a chat with a supervisor and the supervisor's supervisor, they nicely agree to send us a tech, between noon and 4 tomorrow (that's Sunday guys!) who will bring us an HD connector box and all the correct cables and will make the new TV work.

I honestly feared Hubby was going to stroke out in this heat -- or have a heart attack -- which is why I kept dragging along. Luckily, we and our marriage has survived -- so far. Hopefully things will get better tomorrow if and when the Dish network people show up and make things work.

Still -- we (the public) are paying an awful lot of money for things that have become so complicated we can no longer deal with them without technical assistance. I wonder how really old folks do when they need new appliances and how do they get them installed without paying several hundred more in fees. Buying this TV was very, very frustrating. I can't imagine that it's going to get easier on us as the years go by. I can only hope that when the next major appliance goes out, it's in April or October so the weather will be a whole heap nicer.

Slow Recovery

2011-07-20T11:28:00.007-05:00

When the heat index is at 111 degrees -- and the actual temperature is 101 degrees -- it stands to reason that one should NOT have to cook. But when vacation and heat have taken huge tolls on your life, then, yes, you need to cook even if it heats up the house and plays havoc with your AC electricity bills.

Hubby went to his cardiologist yesterday and returned a pretty unhappy guy. His family could have told him it was coming but some people are just stubborn. Hubby took his vacation as a time to eat things he should not. He had ice cream -- several time, two huge scoops in a cup each setting. He had tiny cups of ice cream in the middle of the night -- to keep the heat at bay. He ate hot dogs. He ate salami sandwiches. He ate sausage three times for breakfast.

The heat was awful in Annapolis. We hadn't expected it to be so very, very hot. Family showed up and stayed around. None of us were happy about it -- but how do you tell a 94 year old older brother he wasn't welcome? Cousins made plans to visit that disrupted our plans for a relaxing weekend, the only one we had actually planned for.

The driving in DC and Maryland was awful and we kept running into road accidents, both on the highway going and returning and while in Maryland, that sometimes caused road detours on roads we didn't know or just huge traffic jams. Hubby did almost all the driving -- 4280+ miles worth.

I was tired when we started and it didn't get better as the week progressed. Sister-in-law had dietary requirements and headaches (though she manfully refrained from talking about them, we did not notice that as the week wore on she was taking more and more meds). The dogs, who had played gleefully in the fenced in yard two years ago, had no interest in going outside because it was too hot. Hubby got stressed. He ate badly -- even though he did some cooking at night, even then he ate baked beans and potato salad.

The cardiologist yesterday was incredulous. "You have been exercising in this heat?"

"Well, the heat has been causing me problems. I thought if I could get stronger . . .and I didn't get to exercise on vacation. I just want to feel a little bit better and if I could feel more like my old self . . . "

"STOP IT NOW! That's an order! You are to stay completely out of the heat! Did you hear me? No going into this heat until your blood pressure comes down."

Hubby came home defeated -- and looking just as ashy as he had on our arrival in KC on Monday morning. "I'm grounded," he moaned. "My blood pressure was 181 over 96."

The first thing I had done on Friday after getting home (and filling the dogs' water bowl) was thaw two chicken breasts. I had baked them that night -- but the truth is that Hubby fed most of his to the dogs. Then I'd tried baked lean butterfly pork chops. Hubby ate half of one and a honeydew melon. Sunday we gave in and ordered a vegetarian pizza (with hamburger). Hubby ate half the pizza before I took it away to the kitchen. It was the first meal he'd liked since getting home.

Monday we went back on the chicken regime. I found a new spicy barbecue sauce in Kentucky and that seemed to help him eat at least half of his breast. Yesterday I drove myself to the newly opened Trader Joe's (it opened July 15th -- and the place is still is freakin' zoo!) and loaded my cart with low sodium, no preservative treats.

Today I've baked bacon (it's really good baked in the oven at 350 degrees for 20 minutes) -- bacon that has no MSG, no nitrates, no preservatives -- and 4 slices of bacon only account 270 grams of salt (Hubby can have up to 2400 a day) for a BLT sandwich -- minus the lettuce, but lots of tomato.

Hubby still looks ashy but his blood pressure is down to 141 this morning. Of course, he's out doing his "chores" in this heat but when he returns, he'll have a lunch / dinner that he will enjoy.

I don't have clue what's on the menu for tomorrow -- except I have a lovely pot of brown rice steaming on the stove (more heat for the old kitchen) and a pound of ground round in the frig. Inspiration will undoubtedly strike.

Sticker Shock

2011-07-18T10:15:00.003-05:00

We got home on Friday from our trip to the Northeast. The two things that shocked us the most:

1. The heat was incredible. Two years ago we could sit on the deck and enjoy the bay. This trip -- not at all. The beach house is big and the back part where our room was did not cool sufficiently to our frigid likes (everyone else in the house -- and yes, there were other people there which was rather a disappointment to us -- thought the house was chilly most of the time). Because of the heat we simply didn't get to do all the things we had planned.

2. Gas prices have more than doubled since our last trip. Hubby fills the tank so I don't get the sticker shock during the year, but I had saved the receipts from the last trip so I knew how much we spent on gas from two years ago. We more than doubled that cost. The entire trip, just for gas, cost us $590.70 -- now that's hefty! Two years ago we could fill the tank for around $25 (same car size). This year we had a couple of tanks that only cost $45 -- but if we had let the tank empty we never saw a bill under $55.

But we're home safe -- and the heat here is also incredible. It's just that our little house has a huge AC and we keep it set at around 76 on the high heat days -- so we're feeling a lot more comfortable than we did in Maryland. Sometimes the purpose of a vacation is to make one glad to get home.

For the Next Two Weeks

2011-07-04T12:00:00.001-05:00

Hubby on the deck of the beach house, 2009, Chesapeake Bay beyond the gate.

Computer Ease

2011-07-04T11:37:00.005-05:00

I love the convenience my Internet service provides. So many things are done more quickly and with less stress on my part. I used to hate bill paying -- writing the checks, balancing the checkbook, finding the envelops and addresses and stamps. Now I click and click and all I need do is remember passwords. I LOVE IT.

Finally, when the water company got on board, I have been able to pay every single one of my bills automatically. No wonder the post office is going broke.

And speaking of which, I just put a hold on my mail for the duration of our trip by going to:

mail.usps.com

and doing a search on "hold mail." A slick little form came up, I filled it in, and bingo! Even got a confirmation # that my mail for this address is now on hold. How easy was that? I used to have to stand in an interminable line just to turn in a form.

Since I now subscribe to the daily local paper through my Kindle, no need to put a hold on that delivery. Seems if I can get motivated to pack, we actually will be ready to leave town tomorrow morning. If only there was an application on the web that would coordinate the clothes and dog accoutrements and pack them neatly. Oh! and pick up and pay for the rental car. We always rent for long trips since we drive very, very, very old heaps that cost little to no money to purchase (only to upkeep). However, traveling in a big luxury car (we go Lincolns now that Cadillacs have become so small only sporty people fit in them) is a wonderful treat (all those toys to play with on the long highway straights).

PS -- I'm taking the Mac laptop but I doubt that I will have any Internet access at the beach house -- it's owned by a 89 year old gentleman who has never touched a computer in his life. This blog will lie fallow for the next two weeks. Hope you all have a grand 4th and a cool, breezy (and rain free -- we've got enough flooding in the Midwest) two weeks. See ya soon. Chesapeake Bay here we come! Yippee!!!!

Hankering for some barbeque

2011-07-02T21:39:00.004-05:00

The current passion

2011-06-30T10:09:00.010-05:00

Our local newspaper, The Kansas City Star, runs a column (usually once a week, I think) about things that a selected columnist currently feels passionate about. Here's my list:

Seedless watermelon: as a kid every summer my favorite food would always be my mother's mustard potato salad and cold watermelon. This summer my watermelon taste has returned with a vengeance. Hubby likes cantaloupe and honey dews. I prefer huge juicy red wedges of watermelon sprinkled with salt.

The newspaper delivered by Kindle every morning: my father worked for the Kansas City Star for over 30 years and he loved that paper (this was when the Star was employee owned and was delivered both morning and evening -- the morning paper was the Kansas City Times). During my adult years I've tried having the newspaper delivered and thought when the paper had become a once-a-day publication, I could actually keep up with reading it. But I never could. The paper would be delivered for a month or so and pretty soon I would have piles of never opened rolls of newspaper gathering by my front door, in my yard, and stuffed in all the nooks and crannies of the house. However, I tried a monthly subscription on my Kindle when I first got it and found that, even without pictures and obits and comics, this was a habit I could quickly adopt. There are no bulking pages to try and fold out, there are no leftovers to dispose of (simply erase right off the Kindle), and best of all no advertising comes with the subscription so no huge sections of auto, food, and furniture sales to throw away. Now I read the paper daily.

USA and cable summer TV series: its great to have new episodes of Leverage, White Collar, Burn Notice, and Royal Pains to watch when the prime time networks are showing reruns of NCIS, Glee, and the Mentalist. Even worse for me are the endless reality shows that ABC, NBC, and CBS introduce in the summer. Who cares which bachelor is chosen or what happens in the Big Brother house? Certainly not anyone in this family.

Making travel plans: sometimes looking forward to a vacation is almost as good as taking one. We are going to Washington DC and Annapolis for a couple of weeks in July and the family is joining us there on Chesapeake Bay. It's fun to exchange emails as we research our tourist plans and settle on beach reading material. Hubby actually went clothes shopping and got new shorts, shirts and shoes. I know the trip itself will whirl by in an instant -- but we are having a great time extending the whole thing with lots of fun planning time.

Going to bed at 1 p.m. and sleeping past 6 a.m.: every morning when I wake up at 5 a.m. and realize I don't have to get up and get ready for work, my heart gives a happy little skip and jump.

Summer is a time for relaxing and recuperation from the stress of the teaching schedule. It's a time for cooking up interesting dishes and eating them at no prescribed schedule. It's the time when bedtime can come when you want to sleep. Naps can be had when you feel tired. Laundry need not wait until the weekend. Best of all, the dogs get cuddling 24 / 7. Maybe best of all is the ability to write in one's blog when the idea hits -- not just when the odd brief moment of free time is available. Once the paper writing was completed, this has turned into a really great summer.

The voice in my head

2011-06-29T12:43:00.006-05:00

That voice we all have in our heads (you know you have one -- if you don't you are either over-medicated or need to be medicated) has been speaking loudly and clearly to me this week and I've made a horrible discovery about it. It's my mother's voice and she isn't saying nice things, not that she ever really did but you'd think after 38 years away from her with essentially no real contact I'd have learned to shut her up -- or at least drown her out.

One of my spring grad course professors wrote me a lovely e-mail this week. She had graded the paper I'd written for scheduling and teaching basic life skills students and she was very pleased with it. This is the paper that I had struggled so much to complete and felt very inadequate about but the upshot was that the professor thought I'd gone above and beyond on the assignment and graded the work with a very satisfying A. She also suggested that I might like to publish in some educational journals and she and my adviser had agreed to help me get started if I was so inclined.

Instead of being really proud of myself, the voice in head suddenly chimed right in:

"You know she's just being kind because you whined about the course. You know you don't have the follow-through to really write. Look how long it took you to get just two papers finished. YOU had to take an extension in those courses. Nobody else did. Everybody else could do their job AND take the coursework AND write their papers. But NOT you! Nobody would be interested in anything you have to write about. And you don't have any original ideas anyway."

On and on the voice went, reminding me that I just wasn't "quite up to par, smart enough, organized enough, or hard working enough."

And then it hit me. The voice was my mother. It was her actual voice. I could picture the words coming right out of her mouth, just like they did all through my teen and young adult years.

For the last 38 years Hubby has tried his best to obliterate that voice. He's been supportive and my cheering squad and my champion. And every single time, he'd tell me that I COULD accomplish something, that voice was there telling me I really didn't have the "right stuff." I have effectively drowned out every single compliment I've ever received with that voice and reduced them to little piles of sh*t because the voice always told me that nobody really knew that I wasn't accomplished enough or smart enough or productive enough. It's gotten so bad that I'd actually prefer not get any compliments because I'm quite, quite sure I really don't deserve them. Hubby has pretty much given up trying to over-ride the voice, because I've always found ways to shoot him down.

Now my mother wasn't (isn't) all bad. She was very competitive though, and I have been able to see for some time that when she "knocked me down" she did it partly because she didn't want me to be "better" than her. But she also didn't want me to be too "proud" or believe that I could accomplish things beyond my grasp and thus get hurt. And she only had 27 years to work her wiles on me, while Hubby has been trying for 38 years to break down those early years of indoctrination. It was me that wouldn't let any other voice in my head.

This week I finally realized whose voice has continued disparaging me all these years. You'd think if I had any really sense of self, I'd have realized it way before this. I've always believed that one of my greatest talents is that I can cope -- whatever comes my way, I can figure out (eventually) how to deal with it. Yet I've never stilled that voice in my head -- and I'm not at all sure that recognizing now whose voice has been running me down all these years makes any difference at all. Because you know, I'm not strong enough to silence it. I'm not bright enough to figure ways to overcome. I'm just not good enough.

Strange dear, but true dear . . .

2011-06-28T19:21:00.002-05:00

. . . when I'm close to you dear, so in love, so in love, so in love with you am I . . .

Don't you hear those old songs in your head when they seem applicable.

My love at the moment is my Kindle. It was my Christmas present from Hubby's sister and I have adored it from the moment I got it home and found out how easy it was to download books to it.

I wouldn't buy hard back books before the Kindle, well almost never. So I was always reading the best sellers two to three years after they came out. I love to read books that belong to a series (like the Spenser books by Parker or the Hamish McBeth books by M.C. Beaton) -- but because I wouldn't buy them when they first came out, I'd often forget what I had read and what I hadn't. I stopped reading the Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum series after the 12th one. She's now up to 17. I was also way behind on the Midnight Louie cat books about Vegas, as well as a couple of the cooking mystery series that I follow.

But with the Kindle, I just down load the book at a discounted price and read away. No too heavy books to try and hold up with carpel tunnel wrists. No print too small for failing eyes to see. No books to find new shelf space for -- space which at this point in our lives is sorely lacking.

This week I ordered #12, 13, 14, 15, & 16 of the Plum series (wanted to re-read #12 to remind myself where the series had been) -- and they cost me only $2.99 each (versus the $5 - $8 paperbacks now cost). Hog heaven! I also am reading the John Locke series of books -- which are part of the huge best sellers on the Kindle. He sells them at $2.00 each -- and I liked them so much I wanted to order Hubby his own set (Hubby won't touch the Kindle so he has to have real, true books). Darn it if the paper versions of the Locke series were selling for $15 each and up. Wow! What a difference!

Every day this year I would cart my Kindle to school so I could read for 20 minutes during reading time. The kids loved to see me swishing through the pages on the Kindle. They would examine my menu of books, ask how it worked, pick it and hold it. Because it was going in my rolling suitcase every morning, frankly, the Kindle took a beating. It's no longer pristine perfect -- there are four little squizzles on the screen now that I have to read through.

So in honor of the vacation Hubby and I are starting a week from today, I ordered the complete 15 piece accessory kit for my Kindle. I will have 3 kinds of adapters, 2 carrying cases, a portable lamp, two skins to protect the screen and case -- and I can't remember all what else. Hubby and I are going to spend two weeks on Chesapeake Bay with the Houston contingent of the family -- and Hubby's oldest brother from Philly. My Kindle will be able to travel safely.

Reclaiming a piece of my past

2011-06-26T20:06:00.003-05:00

Hubby and I looked around our house and decided it was time to get rid of things that might have some value but we didn't enjoy, look at, or have family to inherit. We tried selling things on eBay and found that it cost us more in eBay and PayPal fees and FED EX shipping costs than it was worth -- plus we have a local jewelry shop we really like and the guy is so honest . . . and so he bought a lot of our "saved" valuables.

I had a collection of little bags of gold rings -- all which I had removed the stones from eons ago and had made into designer jewelry. We had just stored these empty husks in a drawer, thinking they were pretty darned worthless. Well, they weren't. Gold is at such a high cost that these ugly old ring casings made quite a pretty penny. Hubby had a bunch of collector coins -- he'd been hiding coins away for over 50 years. Those brought a nice return also. Finally, we had some jewelry that nobody we knew would ever wear -- and that brought the best return of all.

In gathering up all the things we never looked at and didn't appreciate on any level other than to tell ourselves that someday we could sell them and make some money, I found my lovely wedding bands and the pretty rings Hubby had gifted me with through the years. Nearly everything was too small -- some way too small -- for me to wear comfortably.

So along with the sales, we had all my old rings resized to fit arthritic, fat fingers. When the rings came back I was astonished at just how lovely they were. Twenty or so years ago Mother sent me her engagement ring, my grandmother's engagement and wedding rings, and my great aunts engagement rings. Hubby had given me a modern wedding set (two rings) back in the early 80's. I had taken all these rings into a designer store and had them create me a lovely set of three wedding bands -- but then age and weight took their toll and I could no longer wear them.

This week all the rings came back re-sized and cleaned up. I'm so pleased. We had sold enough "stuff" to have a nice vacation in July -- and I have a lovely set of rings that are now big enough for me to wear for the rest of my life (we sized up instead of to fit -- everything's just a little big so swelling and meds and arthritis and weight should no longer be a problem).

The bottom ring is my grandmother's wedding band. She wore it from 1916 until her death in 1963. The middle wide band was designed because all the diamonds are very different colored. The diamond in it on the left was my mother's. The two middle diamonds belonged to my great Aunt Frances, grandmother's sister. The diamond on the right was my grandmother's. The top band was made from the diamonds in the set Hubby gave me in the 1980's. Each ring has special meaning and I will now be able to wear them with great pleasure. Our little selling spree was quite successful and a piece of my history that I cherish has been restored.

Sadness

2011-06-22T18:42:00.004-05:00

Our newspaper, The Kansas City Star, published this sad obit today:

Melrose Church closes doors after 123 years

I thought I would be okay about the closing since I knew it was coming but when I read about the dismantling of the symbols of the church, my heart just broke.

We did not attend the final service because I knew that my attitude was not in the right place. I wanted to be spiteful to those people who had finished this grand old lady off and certainly not in a Christian way. I didn't want to act like they had, at least in public.

I hope to keep the happy days Hubby and I spend there in my heart and thoughts but right now I just feel lost and very, very sad.

Almost There!

2011-06-22T13:01:00.004-05:00

It's not time to pop the cork yet but the glasses are chilling and the ice is in the freezer.

I'm O N E day away from finishing up the two grad papers I put off until summer.

O N E day.

That day is for the final re-reading to a make sure no gross errors exist and that I covered most of the topics demanded by the rubric.

On Friday I expect I'll deliver the papers to the college center, pop the cork on the carbonated grape juice and collapse in a heap with doggies frolicking in glee that no more curse words and ugly voices are hollering from the computer room.

Change

2011-06-13T14:14:00.004-05:00

Each new e-mail brings more news of change and I'm beginning to really get stressed out. I wasn't thrilled about the ending of this school year -- in fact, I began to feel so overwhelmed by my professional community, English, that I chose to withdraw from it and join the social studies community for next year.

After all, my three year collaboration with the social studies teacher was the longest and strongest one in the building. We had actually reached a true c0-teaching status that included daily planning and actually working as professional equals inside the classroom. So it just seemed to make sense, even if I'm not nearly as strong academically in World and American History as I am with literature. I thought this was a very balanced, well-thought out decision and my administration agreed to the change. The vice-principal in charge of the inner-school social studies group was thrilled I was joining her group.

I also knew that my collaborative English partner was resigning, She had twins at the end of the school year and she now has four children under five at home. Of course she needed to resign! She and I hadn't gotten along very well -- she wasn't an easy person to communicate with, though I thought she was a fine teacher. However, the second semester, we really hit divergent paths and our collaboration was actually pretty much non-existent. I hated nearly every English lesson she introduced, most of which I had no idea were coming my way. Her resignation, though, puts me at a distinct disadvantage for English collaboration for the fall semester -- another reason why I though switching professional learning communities was a very good idea.

On my third floor the other SPED teacher finally decided to retire after 47 years in the district -- she's actually a year younger than I am. Sometimes our relationship involved butting heads but I really liked her and respected her commitment to the job. And I could always count on her for the inside "dope" around the school and the district. I will miss our working relationship very much. I hear that the person replacing her, only one year with our district, brings quite a reputation for absence, being difficult to work with, and late to nearly every class / meeting.

At the end of the year, our district SPED head announced she was resigning to take a new job. Frankly, this woman had been a thorn in every side and I think nearly the entire district heaved a sigh of relief to know she was leaving. Of course, it's always out of the frying pan and into the fire, because the next thing we knew, the dreaded functional district SPED head had simply absorbed the collaborative teachers. The district was on a "cost cutting spree." It's the functional curriculum that has been laying me low for the past semester -- I am NOT at all a person cut out to teach life skill classes. And this new woman has a rep that is far worse than the one leaving us.

Then Friday I got the e-mail that my three year collaborative social studies teacher was resigning to take an ESL position with the district. Our three years of working closely and successfully together is over. Also I will not know any of the staff I am supposed to co-teach with next year. Every co-teaching class I'm with will have a "new" teacher, probably new to the district and no idea that they are walking into a classroom that has been designated at "collaborative." Dear god!

Finally, today came the e-mail today that our lead English teacher had resigned to accept a new position -- lead English teacher for the entire district.

Hubby and I have just had the retirement talk, yet again. I look at the economy and I cower with fear. I worry that we simply won't have enough money to make it through another 30 years. If I could just make it five more years, I could nearly double our retirement funds (we're socking it away hard and fast but the stock market and economy is doing us no favors here). It's just that physically and mentally I don't think I can take much more of these changes.

Hopefully every problem I'm envisioning for the upcoming fall will not be nearly as bad as I fear. I know that as we age we accept change less gracefully and with more trepidation. I know I have resilience. I know I love the kids. I know that Hubby will be supportive -- if his health holds. I know that my friends will continue to support my efforts in the classroom. Now I just have to find a place of serenity to get me through the unknowns of this summer . . . and I've got finish writing these two god-awful papers. Heaven help me!

So Much Harder than Even I Expected

2011-06-06T18:17:00.004-05:00

Friday was the first day of summer vacation -- meaning the first day away from the dreaded 5 a.m. "grumbling out of bed" routine and putting on "business casual clothing" and combing my hair. Instead I stayed up Thursday night until 3 a.m. -- and got out of bed at 8 a.m., lolled around without my underwear, and ate when the mood struck me. I designated myself a three day weekend before I even began to tackled the "paper writing hell" that awaited me on Monday.

I must admit though, if I thought about the papers ahead of me, my stomach churned and my heart raced and my brain said, "Ho! Ho! You KNEW it would catch up to you!"

This morning I stumbled out of bed at 9 a.m. after finishing a Kindle novel and reading the KC Star on the Kindle. I swallowed the blood pressure meds and two strong aspirin "just in case" and opened the file for the most challenging of the papers. And . . . promptly realized I was in deep dodo. I honestly don't know how to do this stuff. I know I sat through an entire semester doing all these webinars about functional learners and strategies for them -- and gagged through almost all of it, swearing I'd never do this stuff.

Here's how bad are the case files for the students I have to write inclusion plans for: one 15 year old (in the 6th grade) had to have eye drops at 7 a.m. 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. The only way to get him to lie still and take the eye drops was to pretend the drops were a train and go "choo choo choo" as you put them in. That was just one of his problems. Another uses picture language to communicate because she's bi-lingual at home and her teachers claim they can't understand her.

How in the world do parents, clinicians, teachers, paraprofessionals, home care providers cope with all this?

I could not. Ever. I know that's probably a deficit in me. But I was never cut out to do this kind of work and I don't want to waste my time at this stage in my life pretending that I can / could / or even know how.

So . . . since I had already chatted with the prof for permission to elevate the students I had to plan for to high school level -- I put them all in MY high school, explained the building and our scheduling in an introduction -- and dropped the poor "choo choo" kid from the program, even though that was discrimination. Poor kid couldn't cope with our five story building with no elevators under any circumstances and I didn't want to figure out how to make it happen. I decided to let the chips fall where they may.

This means I only have four students to schedule and write lesson plans for. It's cheating, I know. But at least I'm recognizing the limitations facing some kids -- and where they should not be placed. Maybe I'll get some credit for that. And maybe not.

I'm studying the rubric for the paper closely -- if I can pull a B on the paper, I'm just fine with that. I'm actually figuring out what portions of the paper I can either avoid or skim over. I've got two weeks to figure this plan out (internal schedule that I set). The one after this one is not nearly so hard (fingers crossed) and I've given myself a week for that one.

If Rumpelstiltskin showed up about now, I'd have to think hard about trading something dear for two completed papers.

Goodbye

2011-06-03T16:42:00.004-05:00

1883 - 2011

Word came this week that the only church I've ever given my heart to will be closing its doors on June 19.

Hubby and I haven't attended the church for the past year and half -- a new minister, a new church direction, a congregation that no longer spoke to our spiritual needs caused us . . . and clearly many others . . . to leave.

Since 1883 this church has dutifully and prayerfully served that northeast section of Kansas City. The last two years of its life, the United Methodist ministry stole the heart from it -- but that can only happen if the congregants allow it to happen.

Two years ago my heart would have been breaking. Today I'm just sad that one more piece of Kansas City history has fallen away.

And so the time has come . . .

2011-05-28T15:07:00.003-05:00

You know the Beatles song. We've all sung it. And laughed.

Now, of course, some of us are actually living it. Living past it, in fact. It happened to me this week. I'm now officially older than the John Lennon / Paul McCartney "When I'm Sixty-Four."

This week I turned sixty-five years old. Sixty-five. Official retirement age. No longer older middle aged. I've officially moved into "old."

Old. O L D. Hard to wrap one's head around that concept. O L D.

I remember quite clearly in 1968 when I first signed on for a tax shelter -- to come due in the very distant future of 2011, when I would turn the ancient age of -- dear lord -- 65. I simply couldn't fathom just how far away 2011 actually was.

The 40+ years since I first thought about turning 65 have simply flown by in a nanosecond. Once I was 21 and thinking I'd never actually see the year 2011 -- and suddenly this week, I turned 65 years old. How did that happen to me?

Shocking. Utterly shocking that I could live to be THIS old.

Hubby, thankfully, was willing to feed me for at least another year. I got this for my birthday.

A Wonderful Afternoon at the Theater

2011-05-23T11:42:00.006-05:00

See the serious look on Mr. Ibsen's face over there on the left? That's about how Hubby looked when the UMKC production of Peer Gynt started Sunday afternoon. Twenty minutes later Hubby's head was tilted back and his mouth was wide open -- the only good thing was that he wasn't snoring. A couple of well-placed pokes were called for periodically to keep him from embarrassing the family during the production.

It was a glorious play, not-withstanding Hubby's sleeping during the first act. The Repertory Theater at UMKC (University of Missouri at Kansas City) had updated and scaled down the original Ibsen work that during Ibsen's lifetime was deemed unstageable. Instead of producing all five acts with 50+ actors and the entire play spoken in verse and five hours in running time, UMKC had the foresight to use only five actors -- and Peer Gynt himself was a rotating role -- with only two acts and a two+ hour running time. We had been advised from the beginning not to try and make symbolic sense of the action but just enjoy the ribald beauty and sly use of humor for the play. Updates included modern language and topical humor. Half the audience was in bewilderment while the other half was in heaven. About half the audience left at intermission. The other half gave a standing ovation at the end of the play. I was part of the ovation crowd -- Hubby kind of just coasted along. During the second act he got more into the humor of the play.

Give Hubby credit. He knew what he was in for before we went to the show, he knew he was attending with a lover of symbolism and irony and he came along for the ride. It may have been a modernized version of the 1850's play but I can now count myself one of the few people who has actually seen a production of Peer Gynt. And I loved it!

Finals Finally

2011-05-06T08:24:00.002-05:00

I dragged into the last of the first of my grad classes last night.

Confused? I've been that way all semester. Let me see if I can straighten out that sentence.

My Thursday class held its final session last night. I have one more last class to attend on Saturday morning - the other three hour class of the semester. The assignment for last evening was to present a part of our big project to the class. Except, of course, I have taken an incomplete in the course so I can start, write, and complete the project in June once teaching is over for the year. The prof asked me present information on co-teaching (for which I won the award way back in December). I presented, it went well, and at the end of the class, the professor announced that anyone carrying an A in the class would not need to take the final exam. I sighed and waited to be told that because I hadn't done any of the major project, I must take the exam (I do have a mid-level A for the work I've completed -- 94.75% of the grade). Patting me on the shoulder, the professor said to me, "You're currently carrying an A. No need to take the final."

Imagine me running through the hallowed halls of the office building that houses the Pitt State metro campus pumping my fist wildly in the air and singing "DO-DA, DO-DA! Of course I didn't do that, but I did create the scene in my brain. I hugged the woman! "Thank you for your patience! And thank you for NOT making me take the dreaded final. I'm forever grateful!" I exclaimed as I dashed out of the class -- just in case she was about to change her mind.

For the first time since February of this year, I didn't carry a dreaded weight right in the pit of my stomach. Oh, that's a lie. The weight is still there because two projects have to be completed in June -- but it's a lighter weight and I could sleep the night through with this one, not wake up and worry and plan how to survive another test and another weekly assignment.

For the Saturday class, I did complete the Intervention notebook -- one of the two big projects for that class (the other one is waiting until June). On Saturday we present lessons from the notebook but I've already been graded on the book -- got 100% on it. My lessons have been copied and stapled since the start of May so I'm ready to go for Saturday morning.

To celebrate, Hubby has arranged for his family's house on Chesapeake Bay to be ours for the middle of July. All I have to do to be ready to go is complete two large projects in June. One will go easy -- but the other one is a huge sink hole of misery. Still once teaching is over, I can write at midnight and sleep at noon -- and that always makes me a better student.

April Fools

2011-04-15T07:18:00.009-05:00

Overwhelming is how life feels currently. It's working out -- slowly -- but mostly I'm feeling completely in over my head (and that's no April Fools).

My advisor called me into her office yesterday to say I could do my final project with actual high school students - not 6th graders as originally assigned and then called secondary students. I'm feeling relieved about that since I honestly don't know what a first year middle schooler's class schedule looks like. The project is to schedule four functional students for a week of accommodations and write one day of their lesson plans (for all four). That's a heap of lesson plans (around 24 to 36) -- and create a very complicated schedule since these are disabled students. Now, at least, I can schedule these kids according to high school standards and my lesson plans won't be so wacky.

This week we took the second of the three big tests this professor is giving in her class -- this one was on moving and positioning people. I also completed the 30 functional adaptive lesson plan notebook required for the second class I'm taking (this class has two huge projects but no tests).

Both professors are agreeable to my plan for completing the remaining two large projects in June. The first three weeks of June will be VERY busy.

My school district is cutting staff again this year. The school district one county over has cut 30 teaching positions and 33 SPED positions. That's not a good portent for my future.

At my school, the staff members over 60 years of age are taking retirement in record numbers. Those of us who thought we might last to 68 or 70 are rethinking our options. Our sister community is looking over half their staff at the end of the year.

The single elevator in our school has been out for the past two days. I'm on the top floor and getting my rolling cart up those five flights of double stairs every day ensures that once I'm at the top I'm not leaving my floor until I go home. I cut my duty on metal detectors this morning - but I figured my excuse was a good one.

Hubby and I went to the university's REP theater to see their product of Cabaret on Sunday. It was a stellar performance -- reimagined with part of the audience sitting on the stage as guests of the Kit Kat club (those tickets cost double the regular price). The dancing, costuming, and staging made an old play seem fresh and new again. We really enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

The boys had their annual grooming yesterday and looked spectacular for about five hours. Then the rains came down in torrents last night and this morning both were mud balls are the morning pee parade. There's $80 gone -- except the Schnauzer cuts are still presentable through the mud bath.

Oh! the April Fools of the title? Me, of course. Foolishly hoping for a winning lottery ticket, a new car from Oprah, and a vacation house on Chesapeake Bay. Might get one out of three if things work out just right.

Invasion

2011-03-29T06:36:00.007-05:00

The first indication we got that something B I G was up was in the Monday morning weekly teacher announcements. According to our principal: the teacher parking lot would be unavailable to staff on Wednesday; moreover, the entire bottom level of the building would be "off limits" to staff and students. Later that morning the equipment began to arrive. Now this is not your normal load of equipment. Huge semis pulled into the loading dock. Millions of dollars of sound and video equipment were unloaded in huge crates. Enough cable is being laid to electrify downtown Kansas City, Kansas. When asked what was going to happen on Wednesday to necessitate all this activity, we were greeted with silence. "No one knows," was the standard reply given by even the most inside sources. The people who always know in advance of any really good school gossip also claimed to be equally in the dark. "We can't find out a thing!" was the hue and cry all day Monday. The rumors were rife. The top four were:

The President of the United States (or his wife) was coming. Well, there has been no advanced warning of his traveling. You'd think the PR people would be hyping the event. However, clearing the parking lot on Wednesday could mean the arrival of someone by helicopter.

Governor of Kansas Brownback was coming to make a big speech about more cuts to education. Well, he's been in this school before -- never did we have such a media circus going on just for the governor.

Oprah was coming -- and the reason the parking lot would be off limits was because she was going to present each one of us our own new car! Well, clearly the best of all the rumors, Oprah is in Australia and she would have had the media vans all marked with her Harpo logo.

A movie scene is being shot here. Well, we would probably know if a big name movie was being shot in Kansas City and the KC Star (our newspaper) has not published a thing (even in the arts and entertainment sections.

So, what's up? We don't know yet. This morning, Tuesday, it was like a huge concert venue trying to wend out way into the school. The entire lower level is lined with crates of video equipment. Wires and cable are everywhere. Strange, huge trucks line all the access points into the building - and in one this size, there are many entryways. The third floor corner where my room is tucked away is still quiet. We are in the farthest corner away from the auditorium (where we hear the action is going to take place on Wednesday) so the activity has not yet made it into our arena (if it ever will). Everyone is buzzing, though. Stay tuned. If you get a chance and we are in the news tomorrow night, do take a peek at our glorious auditorium (the building itself is on the historic register and was built by the WPA in 1937) -- it truly is a place of outstanding craftsmanship and beauty. And if the President is here -- well, you might want to hear his message, also. ____________________ Tuesday afternoon update: the city spent the day vacuuming the lawn and the football field at the high school. Then sent crews around to hand manicure the lawn in the front and side of the building. The city streets and the sidewalks were washed. More equipment arrived. We are told the AP will be in the building tomorrow. My principal came by and asked several of us to attend the "assembly" 3rd block tomorrow -- but only if we agreed to dress-up. After determining that "dressing-up" didn't entail things like panty hose or dresses, I agreed to go. We are quite sure at this point in time tomorrow's arrival will be plenty B I G! Too much money has already been spent sprucing up the area AND the school. Fun times!

I'm soooo smart!

2011-03-15T12:50:00.006-05:00

For one of my grad classes I just took a multiple intelligence test. Where I thought I was really smart, seems not so much. I fit all the characteristics of exactly what every "career interest inventory" says I should do in my life for a vocation, and I've never had the talent to pursue. What can you do if your natural talents do not match your desires? All I can say is, I really married my ideal job.

Here are the categories of multiple intelligence:

linguistic -- word smart
logical -- math smart
spatial -- picture/space smart
kinesthetic -- body smart
musical -- music smart (dah)
naturalistic -- nature smart
intrapersonal -- self smart
interpersonal -- people smart

I thought I would be word smart -- good at reading, memorizing, word games -- in other words, linguistic. Yes, it was one of my second highest ratings (I tied in second place for two intelligences).

But #1 -- I'm musical. There were no qualification about it -- I answered every single musically oriented question positively. I didn't miss one in that category. Here's the musical intelligence review:

A listener to recordings. Talking to oneself. Making up songs. Mentally repeating information to yourself. Reading aloud. Changing tempo.

Yep. That's me. I love tones. I love sounds. I do talk to myself. In fact, when I read the information about the musical intelligence, I was talking loudly to myself: "Yes! That's me! Oh! I do that all the time." And then I heard myself -- and realized, "Oh sh*t! This really is me. And I'm reading this stuff out loud." One of the things I enjoy in my SPED classroom is reading to my kids. I really like it. And though my body has no tempo ability what-s0-ever (I scored zero on kinesthetic) I can change moods, places, chores, in a heart beat. I can flit with the best of 'em.

Every career interest inventory I've ever taken (even when I try to cheat) says I should have been a piano teacher -- or a teacher of music. The people in my life I have most gravitated to were artists, especially musicians. Look at who I married! I've always said, though my life with him has not ever been easy, he was always interesting -- and he could fill my life and my soul with music (you know music doesn't always have to be heard).

Interestingly, I also scored fairly high on the intrapersonal score -- solitary, working alone, setting my own pace, avoiding distractions. I'm as good at that as the linguistic intelligence.

I guess I can use this information to plan my retirement. I'll turn on the CD really loud, play a word game while talking to myself, and be ready for events to change in a flash. Should be a good time . . . as long as Hubby is there to create a little background music.

Dinner for Breakfast

2011-03-14T21:16:00.004-05:00

Since Hubby has been diagnosed with a "failing" heart (congestive heart failure -- what a terrible name!), I've made it my job to "fix" him breakfast every day I'm not working. Always a fruit -- bananas and oranges are his favorite at breakfast time -- a cup of hot tea, a slice of toast (or tw0) and an egg if he's really hungry or I think he needs something warm inside him (after a bad night, say). Now on the days I'm at school by 6:15 (or thereabouts), he's on his own. Then he usually eats Cheerios with a sliced banana.

This being spring break as well as Hubby's birthday week, I've been doing the breakfast chore very dutifully ever morning. But today I got up and couldn't face the egg and toast routine. I did brew the tea but I microwaved the left-over chicken and spaghetti that Hubby had prepared for our Friday dinner from the recipe books he was gifted with for his birthday (all low sodium and low fat recipes). The spaghetti had been utterly delicious but we hadn't gotten around to eating it again since. When I opened the frig door and saw that bowl of leftovers I thought to myself, "Self, that looks quite yummy. Let's have that instead of our regular fare." So we did. And Hubby, who has been picking at breakfast ever since he got sick, lapped up every shell and chicken bit and seemed to be a bit forlorn when I had to admit we had emptied the pot.

Wearing Your Bathrobe to Work

2011-03-10T15:08:00.003-06:00

For the past week I've been both depressed AND tired -- a combination which allowed me to think that wearing real clothing to work was simply way too much effort.

The kids are always aware when I show up in a huge, baggy man's shirt, that I'm cranky and difficult to approach. Wednesday I wore the favorite of Hubby's shirts -- a nice, large red-checked one. Under it was a red tee and a pseudo pair of jeans that wouldn't get me written up for violating the "no jeans" until Friday policy unless someone was really looking closely.

Today I wore a long caftan. My sister-in-law designed the pattern and has made me five of them. One is silk for summer fancy dress and one is pure red velvet for winter balls. The other three are really rather like "lounging" robes because they require no structured undergarments under them. The green snowflake print I wear all Christmas day. One is an African print and the last one, the one I chose for today, is a black and white musical motif. With a white tee under it, and my piano bar pin and some big black earrings, the kids thought I had really dressed up. I swished around all day in my full angle length gown like I was queen of the third floor.

Because I teach in an African American / immigrant heavy environment where the kids really like unusual costumes and strange jewelry, I was considered the height of fashion instead of someone who actually came to school wearing her robe.

Update -- working through it

2011-03-06T22:09:00.004-06:00

A friend asked if my tears were the cathartic kind or the depressed kind. I'm not sure. I think they are the "I'm miserably frustrated with my life at the moment" kind. And my mistakes are making the frustration worse -- and often it's my mistakes that are causing the tears.

After making Hubby breakfast this morning, I plopped myself down at the computer and spent six hours working through the midterm. Oh, it's not finished. Not yet. But I've got a handle on it. I just need to ask the speech pathologist a couple of questions and review my answers and I'm ready to "submit." I know I've missed one question completely -- and possibly many more, but the truth is, at this point, I don't much care. I just want a B out of the thing.

While I was dragging my ass through the test, Hubby spent the afternoon cooking. We now have a lovely pork rib roast all seasoned with garlic and non-salt herbs for the week ahead. Even better is a wonderful pan of rice pudding that is so fragrant and creamy that two bowls were called for after a heaping plate of pork. Good food does help one feel more mellow, I must admit.

Tears on my pillow

2011-03-05T15:24:00.005-06:00

Two weeks ago we went to a hugely expensive restaurant for dinner with our coupon for a "nearly" free meal. The dinner bill -- without any drinks -- came to over $100. I had brought the wrong coupon with me, which luckily Hubby discovered before I embarrassed us both by presenting it for the dinner tab.

I sat at the table and cried.

A friend in the Chicago area sent Hubby a beautifully crafted hand decorated box to keep his prayers and worries in. Hubby loves the box and has it sitting beside his bed on the night stand.

When I opened the package I filled the box with my own tears before handing it over to him.

I was bored out of my mind in a department meeting on Wednesday and since we had been requested to bring out computers to the meetings, I sneakily decided to open my personal email account and read up on the day's news. There I found that a dog I had never met and who lived at least 1000 miles from me and was very, very old had died. The dog was one of my last living links to Wolfie, the dog of my heart.

I immediately broke into tears right during the meeting. I had to quickly gather up my junk, my computer, and my office chair and noisily exit the room, still trying to conquer my sobs.

Since January I have been crying myself to sleep over the grad school situation. I hate the last three classes. I will never teach functional students -- and six hours of the nine is in functional education. Three hours are in elementary education -- and I'll retire before I ever enter an elementary classroom. But my provisional license cannot be renewed again and was up in November so I was trying to convince myself to struggle on through. Six hours this semester and then three in the summer -- which would involve working 150 hours with a group of functional students. Pretty soon I was crying almost all night long, what with the worry and the stress and the misery. Finally, this week I gathered up enough courage to call my advisor and ask for a meeting, which she arranged for that very evening. Before I had even arrived, she had met with both my instructors this semester. I laid out my misery and tales of woe and she offered several different options -- and pointed out a HUGE error on my part. Yes, my provisional license was up in November -- but November of 2012 -- and that's still two years away. In my misery I had simply seen November -- and thought it was the upcoming fall month. I have plenty of time. I do not need to teach summer school with functional students. Plus, my advisor is teaching the fall semester of the last course and will make sure I end up in her section and help me through. And -- she had already gotten permission for me to take incompletes in both courses this semester -- meaning I could finish up the huge papers due in each during the summer (the summer in which I will NOT be going to grad school working 150 hours with functional students).

I started crying the minute my advisor said "we can work this out." By the time she called in both instructors to insure me I could take incompletes in the class without penalty, I was nearly hysterical.

Now I've got a mid-term to take this weekend (to be finished by Thursday). I've accessed it already and I don't know the answers to over half the questions. The tears are dripping down my face as I type.

And here's the crazy thing:

Because we paid for the $100 dinner ourselves, we still had the coupon available and tonight we're having our second $100 dinner -- but this time using the coupon. I didn't choose very well for the first dinner -- I only really liked the salad. Tonight I'm having the lobster tail, the lobster bisque, and the fancy Caesar salad, a meal I'll like much better. We could afford the first $100 -- not that I wanted to spend it -- but it didn't hurt the budget all that much.

The gift from the Chicago friend was meant to bring joy -- and it has. The box is lovely and delicate and is already filled with tears to wiped away.

The dog who died was very old and the owner did him a huge favor. The staff who saw my melt down all came to my rescue to see how they could help.

If I had only gone to see my advisor in January -- or December -- when I began to be so distraught over the final nine hours I could have saved myself a lot of misery. And I would have learned that I had plenty of time to fill my final SPED requirements.

I should have started my mid-term this afternoon. At least I could have begun the research to find the answers to the questions. But I couldn't bring myself to start the process. Instead, after I got Hubby breakfast, I crawled back in bed and watch DVR recordings of The Defenders. And it really doesn't matter that I blow my 4.0 -- as long as I pass the darned course.

I've got to get things under better control, find my equilibrium, and dig myself out of the hole I'm in. And I've got to stop the crying -- somehow.

Hello

2011-03-03T07:06:00.002-06:00

Updates lately are few and far between due to grad school and Hubby's on-going health problems but today the sun is going to shine and the temperatures are predicted to be above 60 and I didn't need a coat on the 5 a.m. on the drive into school. Because daylight savings time has not yet started, at 7 a.m. I can actually see out of the four huge windows that dominate a wall of my classroom. I'm thinking leaves on trees and green grass but, of course, it's still too early for that -- but in my mind I can picture it and I feel just a bit more at peace with the world. Also, last evening dear friends had Hubby and me over for a sweet and early dinner (they dine at 10 but in deference to us, we ate at 4:30 p.m. -- they called it breakfast) of things that Hubby is enjoying eating at the moment -- baked potatoes and several types of lovely fresh fruit. The day before the Italian old school gentlemen that teaches next door to me had delivered meat ball subs to me for Hubby and he thoroughly loved every bite.

But . . . and of course there is a "but" in my world at the moment . . .the 7 a.m. bell just rang and students began pouring onto the third floor, I'm scheduled to be a monitor and reading for the ESL testing today, and tonight I have grad class from 5 to 9 p.m. Hubby's anti-coagulating factor is still in huge flux and yesterday he had a very bad day -- he could feel his heart racing and got extremely cold and very tired all at once. These episodes are frightening to both of us. He's also lost a lot of weight very quickly and now his clothes are hanging off him and, I admit it, he does look haggard.

But . . . it's always wise to try and see the bright side of things. I had my annual health assessment this week and Hubby's new diet is working well for me, too -- not as well but I'm not on the Lassic -- and I've lost weight. But . . . my blood pressure is on the rise, even with that.

In two weeks we have spring break -- and it will be filled with paper writing for both grad classes. This week one of the classes is giving an on-line mid-term -- 65 questions and some of them are ESSAY.

Updates will remain sparse.

Not So Good

2011-02-18T22:03:00.003-06:00

Doctor's appointments all this week show we've still got a number of hurdles to jump. The cardiologist is unhappy that Hubby's heart rate is still too high -- he's over 100 and needs to be considerably under that. Hubby has been told to stop the bike riding (stationery) and take up slow walking -- nothing too strenuous until we get things under control. A new medication has been added into the mix of -- I'm losing track -- 12?

The clinic is upset because Hubby's clotting factor, which in the hospital had raised to 4.9 (dangerously high) has now dropped to 1.4 (very dangerously low) and the meds are again being readjusted upward -- much to Hubby's major dislike (this is the med that make him feel sick).

More doctor's appointments all next week. Meanwhile, of course, Hubby is tired all the time. We're taking a lot of naps. Tomorrow night I'm dragging him out to dinner at Crown Center -- a long stroll in the shopping plaza for some exercise and a simple steak and salad dinner (no sodium) at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. We deserve a treat and a respite from feeling sick.

Healing on a Plate

2011-02-14T18:33:00.002-06:00

Dear friends called us Sunday and said, "No excuses, no saying no, we're bringing dinner."

Pot roast, roasted potatoes, carrots, onions. Perfectly seasoned. Oozing juices. Warm and filling. An entire meal, served with love.

Such kindness. So very much appreciated.

Truly healing on a plate for both Hubby and me. Enough for three full dinners which we didn't have to cook, only dish up and devour with gusto.

This is truly what friendship is all about. We can't thank them enough.

A Fine Institution

2011-02-11T14:23:00.004-06:00

We have just spent the last week in our neighborhood inner-city hospital. Honestly, Research Medical Center often takes a bad "rap" with my Johnson County and North Kansas City friends. They like Shawnee Mission Hospital or Kansas City North. St. Joseph's left the inner city to build a complex on State Line and Memorah moved way out into Leawood. The folks in Waldo and Brookside all visit the Plazaaa hospital of St. Lukes. I only know one friend who actually does go to Research beside Hubby and me. But I'm here to attest that no finer service can be provided anywhere in the country for the normal problems of an aging heart with complications or for problems treated by nuclear medicine.

We weren't in need of advanced medical care this time around -- we just needed help getting over the complications of the atrial fibrillation diagnosis of January. The meds were off. Hubby was experiencing congestive heart failure and we were scared. He couldn't breath. His blood clotting levels had suddenly zoomed into the scary numbers -- a bloody nose would be difficult to stop. His heart beat was again out of sync and he could feel it racing. His blood pressure was way up. His sugar levels were off. If he laid down he felt like he was dying. Both of us were terror struck.

Our very early morning entry into Research's ER was a dream. Hubby was immediately seen, placed in an exam room with staff buzzing around him and quickly doctor's taking vitals. People were brisk and efficient and concerned not just about Hubby but about me, as well. With three hours we were admitted to the heart care unit.

On the 4th floor, everyone from housekeeping to the dietary staff dropped by to see if we were satisfied. We immediately got a "nothing by mouth" order but the LPN scurried around and got me a tray of breakfast food. When I got upset because it looked like no one was taking Hubby's vitals, the charge nurse came by to explain how everything was now digital and Hubby was indeed hooked in to the hospital's main computer system and they knew every beat of his weary heart. The head of housekeeping came along to see if we were "satisfied" with the room. I pointed out that some small "debris" was still on the floor and that second chair in the room would be more than welcome. The floor was washed within 30 minutes and a very comfy chair was delivered within 10.

The chest x-ray had taken place in the ER. The eco-cardiogram staff came with a bed before we had a chance to put away Hubby's clothes to whisk him down for testing.

RNs, LPNs, and the charge nurse were always on call and in and out of the room all day and all night. We never rang for help but it didn't arrive within five minutes -- usually less. And when we rang it was usually because of beeping IV machines which drove me nuts but weren't serious problems.

The cardiologist came to visit that evening, the next morning, and today just before we left for home. Our clinic doctors came three times a day. The cardiologist staff came to show us videos and when they found Hubby out having tests, they rescheduled and CAME when they said they would. The dietary staff came to explain how low sodium and very low sugar diets work. The head chef came by to see how we liked the meals -- and when we said that the fruit they had in the visitor's cafeteria was out of this world, he explained that patients could order it and it would arrive for every meal. From then on, gorgeous oranges and apples and raspberries and blueberries came with every meal. Popsicles were available 24 / 7 on the floor for Hubby, as well as sherbet and applesauce.

We were pampered the entire stay. We were treated with respect and dignity. We laughed in the face of serious illness -- and that will almost always improve the healing process. The nurses treated Hubby so wonderfully well. The doctors were responsive and answered questions until we felt we had the "scoop" on our progress -- and they gave out phone numbers so we could call if more questions came up.

Research Hospital in Kansas City is a five star establishment. It may be located in the heart of the inner city but the quality of care provided there is truly world-class and can compete shoulder to shoulder with those hospitals that fled the the heart of the city to provide care for the suburbanites. They certainly earned our loyalty, in 2006 and now again in 2011.

Hubby's home. We have Research staff's caring attention to thank for that.

FYI

2011-02-09T19:18:00.002-06:00

Hubby was admitted to Research Hospital this morning at 4 a.m. More complications; more meds; more tests; just a lot more of everything scary.

Update will be sparse for a few days.

Becoming the Man of the House

2011-02-05T13:55:00.003-06:00

I've always admitted that my husband has clear dominant tendencies. That hasn't changed. He's the boss, he's the man in charge, he controls the remote when he's home. On the other hand, he never had clear role distinctions which, because I always found him interesting and funny and smart, made the fact that he had to be in charge acceptable. Somebody has to be -- I think 50/50 is probably a myth.

Now that he's aging and been sick, things are changing. Oh, make no mistake, he still thinks he's in charge and he still controls the remote when he's home, which is almost always now-a-days. I've pretty much given up watching TV -- one can only take so much of Walker, Texas Ranger and Judge Judy (how can a smart man watch such crap?). But the role thing -- now that's pretty much gone up the tubes.

Hubby was the strong man -- big chest, huge biceps, strong thighs. In his past he has boxed and lifted weights. He was always extremely physical and hands-on. He could move refrigerators on by himself.

Now I carry the groceries. All of them. I just had to drag into the house a 30 pound bag of dog food (we buy this god-awful expensive stuff for Gussie who has lost weight on it and has had an 80% improvement in his dental hygiene since we started using it and the big bags cost a little less than the smaller bags -- hence 30 pounds). Just getting the bag out of the car nearly did me in -- and getting it through the garage up and up the stairs into the house! Wow! I was sweating by the time I finally made it to the kitchen.

For the past month I've had to do all the grocery carrying -- and he LETS me! We pull into the driveway and I say, "Okay, you get the dogs into the house and I'll bring the groceries" and he nods, gets Luie leashed up and Gussie out of the car, and off they go into the house and he lays down in the bed. Lately he doesn't even bother to go into the store with me. He sits in the car, lets me make the purchases, and load everything into the car when I wander out. And when he gets done with this trip, he's napping while I'm unloading the car.

The blood clotting factor has finally reached 2.4 -- we knew it was getting close when he bled all over the bed after one of his injections. And then he got a bloody nose that wouldn't quit. So we've finally gotten to stop the morning and evening shots. Still, the pills are numerous and making him sick to his stomach nearly all day long. So to insure that he has something in his belly before we start the daily regime, I'm fixing breakfast nearly EVERY DOGGONE morning. Tea. Toast. Scrambled eggs with cream and cheese and onions and green pepper. Sausage patties or bacon. Sliced bananas. Apple juice. I'm NOT the cook in this family -- he has always been the chef. Okay, I'm frank to admit that on the mornings I leave for school at 5:45 we stop and get him a breakfast croissant at Dunkin Donuts, but otherwise I'm making sure he has breakfast by 9 a.m. every morning -- and that included the all those snow days and weekends.

It's hard wrapping my brain around this latest turn of events. I never aspired to be the "man of the house." Still, whatever it takes to keep him truckin' along. At least the dog walking chores are still his (however, with all this snow which is still higher than the dogs' butts, I get the "clean the poop out from under the grand piano chore"). We have another doctor's appointment on Tuesday. I made sure it was AFTER school because I intend to have a real heart-to-heart with our young physician. We've got some things that need improving.

My Life on Febuary 1, 2011

2011-02-01T12:11:00.013-06:00

This is where I'm spending my time for the next 16 weeks (not blogging, not creating exciting lesson plans) while attempting to finish up six of the nine hours I still need for SPED certification:

Nikita is the only one enjoying the current blizzard going on outside my window right this very moment (he is a young polar bear just moved to the KC Zoo):

This is my favorite movie of the year which Hubby and I actually took the time to see over the weekend (and I only felt extremely guilty that I wasn't home writing one paper or another for the first 30 minutes of the film and then I was totally engrossed):

This is the new technological love of my life -- a gift from my favorite sister-in-law for Christmas (if you don't have one, honestly, you SHOULD):

P.S. The Kindle is the 9.7 inch one -- and so easy to use!

This is the novel I slogged through on the Kindle (among several others) before I started the final to last semester at Pitt State:

P.S. I didn't much like the plot -- it was depressing mostly -- but I read the whole thing which is a grand testimont to Franzen's writing ability because I couldn't put the book down. He does capture 40 something white middle class people very nicely. And if your considering the book, it does have a happy ending.

P.P.S. I also read the newspaper on the Kindle daily. And it has several really nice games.

This is why Hubby is feeling sick and tired nearly all the time:

And this is the medication that we think is causing him the worst of the problems. The good news is that if we ever get the clotting factor right, then this disappears for ever:

Finally, this is the biggest problem right now at my high school (though repeated snow days will make me very unhappy come June when we're still in school making up days):

It's very frightening to see how enraptured our teenagers are with the gang culture -- and how little they value life, theirs or others. And it's very frightening how often this culture is now invading our hallways and clasrooms. We knew it was in the community, but until this year, we had not had to confront it so directly on a daily basis.

A Little More Time

2011-01-15T10:51:00.003-06:00

Hubby's doctor's appointment was successful but we still have a number of hurdles to jump. We were there two and half hours, lots of consultations with senior staff, lots of talking just with us, lots of joking with Hubby.

His blood levels are close but not at the levels we need them to be, so subcutaneous injections will continue for the time being. Hubby has no problems at all with that. Everyone expects I'm giving the shots but the one with manual dexterity and no fear of anything sharp and bloody is Hubby. He gives his own shots every morning with no problem at all. He also does the total maintenance of his meds, though I'm still at the "maternal" state of "helping" him set them up for the coming week. It's a lot of medication, after all.

Pulmonary tests are underway. Current supposition is that Hubby has become asthmatic. Or his windpipe is narrowing. Or . . . something else that is affecting his breathing. We're going to find out this time around.

We are still very happy with our newest doctor. Hubby's blood pressure is a bit high for a "normal" person, but for him it's in the normal range -- around 130 over 94. We're okay with that. His heart rate is staying under 100. All that is very, very good. His color has once again become rich and creamy, not ashy and gray. He has lost 12 pounds (and his pants are falling down around his ankles, frankly). He sleeps all night long, not waking up to clear his head of congestion. His voice sounds more and more normal, not like a man with a severe cold.

We are back on the road to normality, I'm praying. Except that I start grad school this coming week -- six long, hard hours. Papers t0 write. Tests to take. Six hours of class attendance two nights a week. Text books to read. My life will become a horribly long succession of forcing myself to complete work I have no interest in doing. Gah!

We're Off to See the Wizard

2011-01-11T11:18:00.003-06:00

Okay -- not to see the wizard but to visit the new doctor and get even newer doctors. If everything goes well, Hubby will be settling into a new regime of meds but with a much healthier outlook for the future.

He's sleeping regular hours again. That's a big plus from the the past four weeks. His breathing when he's sleeping is much improved. He sounds almost normal. His daily schedule is already beginning to approach pre-illness activity levels.

All is good around here -- now if only the doctor will confirm our "unofficial" progress! If the heartbeat is in "acceptable" range, if the blood coagulation is approaching the proper levels of anti-coagulation, if the wheezing in the lower back has abated -- then I can finally go back to work, leaving Hubby to handle his own medical complications and the newly assigned doctors. I'll keep you posted.

Tough Times

2011-01-09T11:08:00.003-06:00

It's been a hard week around our little household. Hubby went to Houston over Christmas with what we thought was a bad cold. He came home with what I began to suspect had actually been the flu. And he never got better.

Tuesday of this past week he called his internist for an appointment. Of course, they were booked solid for a week -- and gave him an appointment for a week from Thursday.

Wednesday, my first day back in school after the holidays, he finally admitted to me that maybe we should go to the Urgent Care clinic. But he dithered. Finally, he decided that he would just go to the Walgreen's Walk-In Clinic, see if he could get a script that would get him over the miserable chest congestion that had caused him to sit up for the last two nights in a row -- without sleeping. I said I'd go along and he said, seeing that I was exhausted, "Naw. I'll just sit around for a bit at Walgreens and then be right home."

He finally came back home a 7:30 p.m. Walgreen's had sent him straight to the ER at the Brookside campus of our local hospital. Of course, he never bothered to tell me. His blood pressure reading had been 217 over 114. His heart rate was so erratic the ER had tried to admit him -- but, of course, being Hubby and stubborn as a mule, he had refused. Instead, he had agreed to go back in the morning, because then "things would have settled down."

I called the sub office and missed the second day of the new semester. His internist called him at 7:30 on Thursday and said they had been notified by Research Hospital of a problem that Research Hospital was very concerned about and they would see him immediately.

Off we went, meeting a new doctor at the Clinic -- because Hubby had not liked the last doctor he had been assigned to and had refused to make regular appointments with him. Luckily, I liked the new doctor and Hubby was not getting all "stubborn and resistant" with him. He was open, honest, and pro-active -- and very good with a difficult, unhappy patient.

The upshot was that the heart-beat was still so erratic and the blood pressure so high that no one much cared how sick Hubby was with the "cold" that had sent him off searching medical care in the first place. An ambulance was dispatched and Hubby was hauled off (under great duress and angry glares at me for allowing this to happen) to the Research Cardiac Care unit. Both the new doctor and I stood our ground -- Hubby was going to be treated, even without his complete agreement. He knew, though, that he was "not right" so he would cooperate on a limited basis until we had reached "his limit."

Tests. Eco-cardiograms. IVs. More tests. EKGs. More IVs. Medication by the bottles full. Even more tests. "I'm going home today," was repeated more than once. Placation on my part (and a lot of errand running) and some very good doctoring by his internist kept Hubby at the hospital.

The nurses were fabulous, also. They joked and laughed with him. They made him feel important and part of the processes going on around him.

Only one doctor (a little self-important white guy, of course) caused us some real consternation with Hubby getting so angry he began refusing all medications and was furious with me for trying to soothe things over as they rapidly deteriorated. But then our internist showed up and we complained and we were promised that the "little nasty white man" would not come back. And he did not.

A diagnosis of atrial fibrillation. Hypertension. Diabetes mellitus. Hypertrig-lyceridemia.

And interesting, still little concern about the initial problem of congested chest, rotten cold symptoms, and inability to sleep.

We've spent the last couple of days in the hospital. Hubby's home now, thankfully. And after not sleeping, except in small spurts while sitting in a chair, he slept like a log last night.

We have more medications than a normal person could reasonably keep track of. We have the day meds and the night meds. We have had to create an Excel spread sheet to keep track of the various meds -- and their generic names which differ from the names the doctors told us about. We also have a day and night pill container and we have counted out the various meds for each day for the first week. We have a pharmacy bill that would shock a normal person. We are also doing sub-cutaneous shots at bedtime. We have videos that explain the potent nature of all the drugs he must now take. We have videos explaining the nature of the problems -- which are serious and probably life-long now -- but still not life threatening if we take good care and follow doctor directions. I'm sure his insurance company is also in shock -- at the testing bill, the hospitalization bill, and the prescription bill.

But he's home. His heart rate is once again in the "normal" range -- meaning under 100. His blood pressure is back where it's supposed to be. His blood sugar is once again at the acceptable range. He has slept. And he says the "cold" is better than it's been in the past month (we also have an inhaler now for his lungs).

The next week is full of doctor appointments. Because he is now on Coumadin he must have a blood draw weekly -- then monthly. The new doctor, because I keep insisting that the congestion problem must be solved, is also recommending a pulminologist. A cardiologist is also in the works.

The good news, of course, is that we dodged a very serious bullet. Without the "cold" we would never have realized that Hubby was headed for either a stroke or heat attack. We are correcting the problem and warding off potentially deadly heart problems. And finally, Hubby is feeling better than he has been in the past month.

Now I need a month on a beach in the islands, with frothy rum drinks with umbrellas in them and handsome, nude guys to do my bidding . . . instead we are getting snow and freezing weather. Still Hubby's home. I can take anything!

Greetings!

2010-12-31T11:24:00.002-06:00

Happy New Year dear friends!Christmas was, if not the best ever, right up there in the top 30 or so. It was so good I cried on leaving Houston.

Pictures to come.

Packing

2010-12-19T11:46:00.010-06:00

Houston is beckoning. Hubby says we leave Tuesday after school so we can arrive in Houston on the 22nd. Today I am packing. The gifts are in the living room, still in sacks. We wrap in Houston -- makes packing the car so much easier. Hubby picks up the rental car on Tuesday. We have the party at school. We dash home. I change clothes -- and we're off.

Yesterday I got all the wash done so there actually are clothes to pack. Also I dug out the few Christmas presents we had purchased pre-Branson and set then with the Branson goodies.

Last night we met friends for dinner -- and the sweetest of dessert celebrations at the home of friends who had created a wonderland of Christmas mementos, past and present.

Today I get the tote bags stuffed with clean undies -- and pick out the wardrobe for Christmas week in a city that's boasting of temps in the 70's.

Tomorrow I slog in the school with presents for my co-workers. Tuesday, we lug in enough food to feed 20 teenagers for the student luncheon / holiday party. And then we heave it all back into the car and home for washing up.

Finally . . . we're off.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Total Self-Absorption

2010-12-18T14:19:00.009-06:00

I'm blushing with embarrassment over this post -- talk about self-aggrandizement . . .

Still is was a nice evening last Tuesday and I feel very honored to work in a district that would take this much effort to make an employee feel "valued."

The text is from the monthly district news letter. The first group of pictures show some of those people who nominated me (two are missing), the second and third groups are me accepting the award and making a small speech.

Elf

2010-12-16T16:08:00.004-06:00

Hubby plays Santa to my Advisory kids -- these are also the kids on my caseload so I really get to know them pretty intimately. I have them for all four years of high school -- and by the time they reach their junior / senior year I pretty much turn the administration of my classroom over to them. Consequently, my juniors and seniors also get special Christmas presents.

When we go to Branson each Thanksgiving we spend one day of our trip hitting all the dollar stores. For some reason these stores are really better than the chain ones in our vicinity. Hubby takes his own debit card and figures out the budget and he makes the purchases. Last year the kids all got sunglasses, stuffed animals for the girls, and multi-purpose screwdrivers for the boys. This year the gift for everyone is gloves. The boys are getting flashlights and the girls are getting dangling earrings. Everybody is getting bags of candy. The special gifts are knock-off i-pods that Hubby managed to pick up somewhere at a sample sale for little of nothing.

Every evening Hubby wraps an assortment of presents and I cart them to school and put them around the tree. The excitement grows exponentially with the pile of gifts.

In Advisory this week we made the invitations and delivered them our special guests. All the administrators are invited. So are the counselors and the teachers in our school community (we're Health/Science). Then we have an "angel" who donates food, notebooks, paper, tabs (for the notebooks), and one novel a semester for each student in my English classes and she and her husband always come to our holiday celebration. For her we write handmade thank you notes. Also on Wednesday we set up the greeting committee, the set-up committee, and the clean-up committee. We finished decorating the room -- a set of lights around our door had gone out and we didn't have enough lights for replacement, so we had to figure a work-around.

Names for the gift exchange, along with a price limit, had already been chosen. Everyone brings something to share for the dinner. Hubby makes a huge pot of spaghetti as the main course. One girl brings cherry cheese cakes. Another brings pumpkin bread from her granny. The boys, of course, drag in with soda. Our special guest is bringing sparkling cider and Hubby has gotten Champagne flutes (plastic) for us to drink from.

After we had practiced how we would eat with our guests so they would feel welcome, the kids sat around talking about what they would wear to the party. Now these are 15 to 19 year olds. Never before had clothes been discussed for this event. But this year the group has decided they need to dress up a bit.

The party is Tuesday. I'll let you know how it goes . . .