My Christmas Top Ten

I love top ten lists and Christmas so here is my list of my top favorite Christmas traditions. It's hard to narrow the list down, but here's my best attempt:

10) Clothes: Yes, that's right, clothes. I love dressing up and I love winter clothes. I love coats and scarves and gloves and turtlenecks and fuzzy socks and different shades of red and green. I love getting Christmas dresses and making my poor nieces wear the dresses I wish I could wear. I love feeling snuggley all day long. I'm thankful that the weather is cold enough right now to merit my wearing winter weather clothes.

9) Decorations: It begins right at Thanksgiving break. I decorate my classroom with twinkle lights, ribbons and garland. Then I go to my mom's house and we decorate her tree (I refuse to let her do this without me). We talk about the history of all of her ornaments and where they all came from. We stare at the tree from afar with lights on and off and then move one ornament 2 inches to the right or decide to switch a red one with a white one to get a good balance. We then make Dad come and give his opinion which is always, "Beautiful!" Mom has to occasionally corral me in as I dance away to listen to music or get something to drink and get distracted. It's a great time.
   Then I get to my tree with my roommate which takes us at most ten minutes to select and then a little longer to decorate. It's an eclectic tree filled with ornaments that were mostly gifts from other people. We get a wreath and put up our lights which are on a remote. We then joke about who must bear the difficult burden of turning the lights off at night (a task that requires the pressing of one button).

8) Movies: I love Christmas movies! The Cheesier the better. I've written many blogs about this subject so I don't think I need to expand much on this except that I love Elf, BFC, and White Christmas probably the best.

7)eggnog/ cocomotion: I love eggnog. The end. I love cocomotion. Cocomotion was a gag gift my mom gave me several years ago that has become a beloved appliance. Everyone was getting coffee machines and I don't drink coffee so mom got me a hot coco machine instead. It both stirs and heats the hot chocolate to a perfect temperature. Not too hot and not too cold. It is a miracle machine that makes chocolatey goodness and I hope it lasts another ten years.

6)  gifts: Yes, I have a million people I buy presents for and yes, I'm sure I could spend that money on better things, but there is a special thrill when you find the perfect gift for someone and you can't wait to give it to him or her. On Christmas day there are so many presents at my Aunt and Uncle's house that we feel a sense of gluttony, but it doesn't stop us from all buying for each other.

5)music: I love listening to my favorite Christmas albums (which I've also blogged about). There are just some songs that whisk you back to your childhood or make you suddenly feel like Christmas is really here. I love listening to the KOST. My brother Paul and I leave each other fake KOSTmas wishes on our phones. We'll call each other up and leave cheesey messages and dedications for the Christmas season. It's one of the few times we hope the other doesn't answer the phone so we can leave a long and sappy message and dedicate real or fake songs to each other.

4)  singing: I know this seems like a repeat of the previous one, but I consider this one different because this is not just listening to music, but singing it out. I love to carol with people (I've gone three times this year) and I especially love singing special music stuff at church: choir songs, songs with the kids, tight harmonies with my mom and aunt, or the one note chorus on Christmas night. The one note chorus was started by my roommate and her sister and was quickly stolen by my family. We sit in a circle and start to sing a Christmas song, but each person only sings one note at a time. So I would sing the first note and then the person next to me would sing the next note and so on and so on. I love singing "Angels We Have Heard on High" this way because the Gloria is super silly.

3)  play at church: The Christmas play is a big part of my season. In fact, I think about next year's play before this year's is even done. I love how great our kids are, how much they memorize, how skilled they are as actors, how willing they are to do what I ask of them, and how sweetly they sing of the gospel of Christmas. And if all else fails there is always the magic that happens when the youngest ones sing Away in a Manger. It's a fun night and a great reminder of why we celebrate - Christ's birth means that we are saved from our sins, at peace with God, and adopted into His family forever!

2) candle light service - On Christmas Eve we have a candle light service. I love the music and the atmosphere and being with my church family on this special holiday. But the ultimate best part is at the end. All of the lights go out, we all light candles and stand around the edge of the church in a circle and sing "Silent Night". It's so beautiful and so wonderful - that's when Christmas feels most real.

1) Christmas day with the family - like a giant slumber party with the people you love the most in the world. I guess that's exactly what it is. My family all crowds into the beach house with our presents, people, snoring, suitcases, and food. We stay up too late, get up too early, eat food all day and unwrap presents for hours. Some people come later because they have other families to go to. Some leave during the middle of the day to celebrate at other homes, but everyone comes back at night for dinner and stockings. Grandma gives us her own stockings that she prepares during the whole year. She buys so many things that go with each person. From mugs to hair ties, from lip gloss to books, her stocking stuffers are what some people would consider full blown presents. And she does this for anyone who happens to be there that night. If you are celebrating Christmas night with us, you will have a stocking. She's amazing.

I love Christmas because it is beautiful, it is sentimental, and it is filled with food and family. I think that the ultimate thing about Christmas is that it allows us all the opportunity to reflect on the real meaning of Christmas. This is not some ethereal unknown feeling of joy or wonder. The real meaning of Christmas is that God in His mercy came to earth in the most humble of forms, and revealed himself to the most humble of people. God did this to save a broken people from their sins and collect them as his own children. The miracle of Jesus and how we get to celebrate that openly is why I love this season so much.

How freedom led to misdirection which led to overall dogmatism

I love to buy clothes for my nieces and nephew. I especially love to buy fancy clothes for fancy occasions. So does their Grandma Maurine. So we have a compromise: I get Christmas, she gets Easter. This year I decided to take Maddie with me in the process and actually let her pick it out.

  So, being the cool aunt that I am, Maddie and I drove to Kohl's and made our way to the jr.'s (eek she's in the jr's) department and I let her pick away. I was fine with the idea of her choosing whatever dress she wanted. I was so excited to show Maddie how to shop Auntie Brenda style (I'm pretty good at shopping for clothes and I was eager to take my new disciple under my wing). So there are rows and rows of green and red dresses, some with bows, some with velveteen, some with both. What does my precious little baby girl choose? A purple strappy number that looks like something a high school girl might wear to a formal dance...in the spring time...in the eighties. I cringed slightly and remember that she is eight and that when I was eight I fell for the glitter and shimmer that was the eighties (it actually was the eighties when I was going through it...), but this had no Christmas spirit! I tried to play cool aunt and put the dress on my arm, waiting for the next selection.

    So now Santa Baby shows up. A velveteen green dress with faux white fur on the cuffs and hem. It's actually pretty cute and mostly conservative, but it's also just not...well...not prissy. And frankly, I was and am a prissy kind of Christmas dress kind of a girl. I love a classic style that is frilly and girly. But I added it to the pile and continued on the shopping journey.

  I had no idea that my little dear one was such a non-traditionalist. I never asked her what she wanted to wear before and I realized that this little one doesn't want to dress like a little one any more. And then I saw the little beauty before me. A white and red dress with little bits of silver thread throughout. It was so beautifully A-lined and tea length with a high waist wrapped in a satin bow. It came with a red velveteen bolero jacket with a single button. It was as classic little girl Christmas as you could get in a dress, but still looking modern.

  "What do you think of this one?" I asked wistfully, half expecting Maddie to clap her hands in glee or sigh in joy at the thought of owning such a dress.

"Ehh," she tossed out as she thumbed through red versions of her santa baby dress.

"Let's just try it and see," I said, hoping that I could somehow convince her that this was the best choice.

When we got to the dressing room, she tried on the purple one and she was in love with it. It was actually cute, but still felt too old for my little niece. "Mom would make me wear something under it..."she sighed.

"Yeah, definitely, and if it was cold outside your arms would be uncovered..." I thought I'd try to suade her away from this choice. "Let's take a picture and then make our decision." I always take pictures of clothes when I'm not sure what I think. We took a picture and moved on.

Green Santa Baby was cute and looked actually like a kind of  nod to a 1950's skating costume. It was too tight, but the little one still wanted it. "If we can find it in a bigger size, maybe."

Then she put on the one I really loved and I sighed, "Oh, man!" I was in love with this dress.

Maddie misunderstood and said, "Yeah, I like the green one better too."

"Really? What do you like about this one?" She started listing off some things and I added, "And it's a perfect spinny skirt. Spin, let me see," she did and I ohhed an ahhed.

"The green one swirls too," she said defensively.

"Well, if you had to pick your top two, what would they be?"

"The green and the purple."

"Really? Not this one? I love this one. The purple is pretty, but it's for summer..."

We tried on one more dress (brown and blue, which she liked better than my choice) and I decided to make one final move to getting what I wanted and not caring at all that my sweet niece was not getting what she wanted. "If we can find either the green dress or the brown one in a bigger size, then we will get it. Otherwise we'll get the red one. Does that sound ok?"

"Sure."

We didn't find the size and when she asked to try on another dress that was red with bedazzled jewels all throughout it, I decided that I no longer cared what my niece felt was the best choice and I was just going to have things the way I wanted them.

"No," I said, "we have to go."

And go we did with my little dress that I would have wanted when I was a little girl (and would totally buy the grown-up size, if they made it). My sweet little niece was grateful for her dress and tried it on again at home, spinning dutifully when asked to. She liked the dress and has pictures of the ones she loved and didn't get.

So I realized something - I guess I'm not ready to extend shopping freedom to my niece, but will I ever be?

It Was All Going So Poorly and Then the Blood Poured Out

This year my sixth period is my most difficult class. They are a sweet group of very immature kids. They have only finished one complete lesson before the bell rang. That means they have stayed late after school every day since September, but one. They just can't seem to stop talking and stay focused. They are like a cauldron of boiling energy just waiting to spill out over the edge. They are by no means bad kids, they are kind and loving and love me, but they have no idea how to be good students. I direct them in this daily, but it doesn't seem to stick.

Today started and I knew that it would be one of those days were I was directing and redirecting a thousand times and I would potentially lose my voice and my patience. I began class with an activity and after explaining for 5-7 minutes in detail, half the class still didn't know what to do. I went to those groups and explained it again and after another 10 minutes or so, was ready to begin the discussion that would explain the purpose of the activity. After another 3 minutes or so we finally started to get to some meaty information (now about 5 minutes behind the other classes I had taught). Kids were generally settling down and focusing and understanding.

One boy was not participating with his partner and after several reminders was slowly frustrating his capable partner, Bob. The class started to get loud and I knew we were at a breaking point. If I didn't get them to quiet down immediately, there was no hope in finishing the lesson. As I was quieting them down, Bob asked to go to the restroom (a common request when real work is at hand). I told him no and passed out the papers for their notes. Suddenly blood spewed (and I mean spewed) from Bob's nose. He stood up (bleeding all over his desk and shirt) and tried to go to the supply closet. I told him he could totally go to the bathroom. I grabbed some napkins to hand him as he was going outside and specifically said, "Don't touch anything on his desk!" I stepped outside to give him the napkins and apologized for not letting him go to the bathroom earlier.

In the 3 seconds it took for me to do this, Bob's partner was touching the bloody paper on the desk! I screamed for him to stop. All I could think of was all the communicable diseases that this kids could potentially get by handling someone's blood. I said sternly, "Are you trained in how to properly handle blood? That is so dangerous!!" I think he was trying to be helpful and was using Bob's note paper to wipe up the desk.

I then did the only thing I could do - I tried to rescue my failing lesson. I kept to my script as I donned gloves and napkins, and Clorox wipes and cleaned and disposed of the blood. Bless their hearts, but the kids were not listening to a word I had to say about cups and pints. "You look like a doctor!" "Don't doctors get paid a lot?" "Doctors get paid more than teachers." "You did a good job cleaning that up, you should be a doctor."

I did the best I could. Bob returned with blood all over his shirt and then proceeded to take all of his notes. I think we can only be expected to handle so much and there was not much more anyone could do. I guess in this class, when it bleeds, it pours.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I love holidays and traditions and food and lists. Also, I think Thanksgiving sometimes gets the short end of the stick as far as holidays go. So I decided to give Thanksgiving a bit of a shout out by making my top ten for this year's Thanksgiving.

10. The food was awesome! Yes, I know, food is not the center of the celebration (or shouldn't be) but it kind of is. Why did the pilgrims celebrate the first Thanksgiving? Because they had food when they thought they were going to starve to death. Because they survived a year (with the help of the native Americans) when they thought they would not. At my house, there is no fear of starvation. I do mean to brag when I say that my mom is the best cook ever. She makes the best everything. This year there was a great fear that the burden would fall on other shoulders, but thankfully, Mom came through and the food was wonderful.

9. My mom was healthy...ish. On Thanksgiving eve, I showed up to do some day before prep with Mom only to find that she was suffering from an allergic reaction to something. Dad comforted her all night as she really suffered (it was pretty horrible). Dann and I set the table and started cooking with plans to take over the big stuff in the morning. Yet, the next day Mom was up and at 'em. She was the least stressed I've ever seen her and we still had wonderful food. Plus, she was not miserable.

8. Other people really helped a lot. Because of Mom not feeling well, everyone else pitched in and helped big time. Many hands make light work (or at least lighter). It made for a really wonderful time with my brothers, sister-in-law, and dad all helping me and Mom make everything. I don't even know who cleaned up (I took a nap), but it was really nice to have so many people helping.

7. I learned a new game. My brother, Dann, brought a new game called Dominion. I was pretty sure I would be forced to play and then just bear with it, but it was awesome. I think we will have another round at Christmas time. I lost every game but one and I still love it. Don't ask me to explain it, because it's too hard to explain and it sounds even dorkier than it really is.

6. The Post family came over. Our Thanksgiving included several members of the Post clan and they were a welcome addition. They are family and they also bring really good food :) It was a great time.

5. The night ended with me snuggling with Michael first and then Maddie and Natalie. Maddie and I finally fell asleep on the couch together. It was a pretty great ending.

4. Cooking with my mom. I love cooking with my mom. She's so good at it and I feel so empowered when I work with her. Even though there were lots of helpers, there was a time in the morning where it was just us. She and I made up a stuffing recipe and it was just fabulous (my favorite stuffing yet). I just love spending time with her in her kitchen...have you seen her kitchen? Who wouldn't have a great time in it?

3. Not shopping on black Friday. For the past few years Uncle Dave and I have gone shopping on black Friday. We have a great time, because he's so awesome, but I also spend money on things I don't need, feel sleepy and hungry and unshowered and generally blah by the end of the day. I decided not to go this year and actually sleep in and shower today. Erin took my place (and she is now the reigning 'best granddaughter') and I am a little sad I missed out on some fun, but I think it was the right choice.

2. Michael said the best thing. Dann was taking apart the presentation turkey (the one that is beautiful and sits on the table that we use for leftovers) and taking out what mom had put in it: apples, onions, rosemary, thyme. As he took out each item, he said it out loud. Then Michael said, "Is that what the turkey ate?"

1. Singing with CC. Every year, after the meal, aunt Nancy and I sing Christmas songs and pick out what we're going to sing for the Christmas Eve service. We then convince Mom to sing too and it's so pretty. We sing harmonies that make us shiver. I love singing with my family!

So I had a really wonderful Thanksgiving. I thought I'd end with a question and answer session I had with Maddie and Michael.
Me: Who are we thankful to on Thanksgiving?
Michael: God.
Me: And what are we thankful for?
Maddie: Everything God provides.

That about sums it up.

A Perspective on Pity

I have a wonderfully shy student this year. I like shy students because I think shy people are cool and I like to befriend them and let them know that I think they are cool. Still waters run deep, as they say. So my wonderfully shy student has a very demanding father who wrote on her first test (on which she scored a B grade), "You can do better" and he wrote on her second test (on which she scored an A) "Next time don't miss any." This drew my pity for her. I thought that she must have a difficult time living with a father so hard to please.

She asked to stay after school for some help on some homework problems which was fine by me. We worked for about thirty minutes. At the end of it she said, "I wish I could stay with you." My heart thumped a little as I thought of this poor girl wanting to find solace away from unkindness. She continued, "We could do math problems together." I said, "Like a math slumber party? We'd eat popcorn, watch movies, and do math problems? We should have all the girls come to our math party." I smiled at her thinking of how sweet it was that my student admired me and wanted to have me as a friend.

She continued, "I sometimes see you leaving work and you look sad. I think you must be lonely."

What? Beyond the kind of stalker aspect of this (she's not creepy, she just stays late after school) I was thinking that I am almost always smiling, but I guess as I leave all I can think of is how tired I am. "I'm not sad, I'm just tired," I responded.

"So you go home to your parents?"

"No, I live very close to my parents, so I see them a lot."

"You go home to your brothers?"

"No, I live in my own house. And I get to live with my best friend from Jr. High!"

"Oh, so you don't live with your family."

I then could see the pity in her face. I guess she wanted to take pity on the lonely school marm who stays too late and leaves looking a little sad and a little lonely. I sure don't feel sad or lonely, maybe she doesn't feel shy or like her father is hard on her. I guess it's all in your perspective.

That's Why

God has impeccable timing. Today was a day where I felt like I can impact the lives of the kids who care, but not the ones who don't. I've been feeling that way for a while and God keeps showing me little glimmers of hope. "Don't give up," they whisper as I trudge through daily ups and downs of teaching.

I often teach both the highest and lowest math classes we offer. It creates a balance in my day and also in everyone's schedules. It's easy to feel like a great teacher when you teach kids who already understand math, feel good about their skills, and generally like school. I can take the cream of the crop and keep them there. That is a gift, but it is a daily rewarding one that is hardly ever discouraging. It is easy to feel like a lousy teacher when you teach students who have difficulty with the most basic of math skills and who are afraid of failure (or are comfortable with it) who think school is a lesser form of prison where if you serve your time, you can check out soon.

I have some of the same students from last year's lowest course in this year's regular level course (I teach that too). They are now mixed in with students of all sorts of skill levels and I can see some of my kids just trying to keep quiet and stay in the shadows. They hope to graciously accept the F and slide on through the cracks. I can't let that happen. I try all sorts of methods to prevent it and I feel like none of them are successful. If the student is ready to fail and not brave enough to put in another effort another year, there is little I can do to change that.

Last week I was teaching about simplifying expressions. One of my former (and also current) students was again doing nothing as all the other students practiced a problem together. I knelt by his desk and whispered, "You have to do one problem correctly to show me you know how to do this before you leave today or you owe me your break so you can learn it." He asked me how to do the first problem and we did it together. We continued this way for all four problems. By the fourth, he was doing the whole problem on his own. I watched silently as he did each step perfectly and explained it verbally to me as he went along. I was so proud of him, tears started to brim. He looked up nervously, "Did I do it right?" I nodded and whispered, "Look at my eyes. I'm so proud of you, I'm going to cry. It's perfect! I'm so proud of you." He smiled wide and proud. This is a student who received less than a 10% last year for his final grade and he now knows how to simplify expressions!!

The next day he was diligently taking notes, asking questions, and participating with his classmates. I wrote him a "proud of you" post-it and stuck it to his shirt as he was leaving class. I heard from another adult on campus that he keeps it in the front of his notebook - a bright pink post-it saying that he worked hard and his teacher noticed. Who knows if this is the turning point for him, but if I am able to help him see that if he tries, he may not always fail, then maybe I can see that too.

I got a visit today from a student who was big trouble four years ago when I had him. He pulled pranks, lied, damaged my property, lied about that, stole, lied about that. He was a very scary kid because he was smart and charming and used his powers for evil. Well, he visited today to tell me that he is taking the right level of math (that means he passed his math classes), he's liking school, he's learning auto mechanics, and is going to go to trade school when he graduates. He's looking forward to being old enough to vote, but he wants to take Civics first so that he can be a more informed voter and understand the process better. Here was a mature, respectful, wonderful young man who knew the importance of his education. He biked in from Fountain Valley to tell me that he was doing really well and to see how I was. How am I doing? I'm doing great, thanks, just great.

So God is reminding me that I do my job not for the results of this moment, but for the future. I may never see how I impact them and I may feel like I fail every day with some kids. But my success is not measured by some number from a test or even some grades in a class. I teach lessons that go deeper than any test can assess and I need to be reminded that this is why I do it.

My Genetic Inheritance

I look just like my mother. I don't exactly have her coloring, but I have her face. Sometimes in photos of her at my age I can't even tell the difference between us. "I don't remember wearing that shirt," and then I realize that I never have worn it. My mother majored in math and teaches it, so do I. She explains things the same way I do, down to each individual question she asks her students. We cook the same (except she's better at it), we think similarly, we even have the same precise lists we make whenever we're planning things that we both call "our brain". It seems I've inherited almost everything from my mom.

But there are three distinct things I've inherited from my father: my hair, my athleticism, and the crazy. My father and I both are pretty mellow people. We like to mingle with friends and strangers. We tell stories and laugh and can take a lot of abuse and let it roll off our backs. But some triggers are deadly. There are some things that happen that make us just snap and suddenly we are acting impulsively and intuitively and plain old crazy. The trigger is usually some supposed injustice or someone endangering themselves or others.

Yesterday, after school, I was walking from the office to my classroom. I had several things in my hands and had left my phone and keys in my room. The school was locked down at this point and several students were waiting outside of the gate for a ride. About seven of my girls were huddled at the corner giggling and pointing at the high school boys strutting across the street. The boys made flirtatious comments and generally pea cocked for the girls. There were so many boys that they could not all fit side by side on the sidewalk so several started walking in the street. I yelled out to them to get out of the street. No response. My girls echoed my demand and the boys, proving their manliness, started to walk out farther into the street. I screamed again that if they did not get on the sidewalk, I was going to call the cops. All ten were now walking in the street taking up an entire lane and causing the cars to swerve around them. Something inside me snapped.

I put down all the things in my hands, walked toward the fence, climbed over it (with only a momentary hesitant voice inside my head saying, "This could be really stupid...") and started to jog toward the crowd. When I reached them, they seemed very confused. I recognized none of them as previous students, but I herded them to the sidewalk anyway saying something like, "You will not die in front of my school. Stay on the sidewalk!" and I'm sure they noticed the crazy in my eyes. "Sorry, we didn't hear you!" "Really, we're really sorry," "Yeah, we'll be more careful!" Saying anything to just make the crazy lady stop.

I instantly realized how dumb this was. I had to walk the block back to my school's crosswalk (I couldn't very well jaywalk after that.) I didn't have my phone or keys and I had no idea how I was going to get back in. After I used the cross walk and tried to greet observing students normally (the whole time feeling totally embarrassed) I noticed that the office door was open. I went in and confessed my stupidity to those inside and hoped that my new principal has a sense of humor.

Later that night, I realized that I'm not quite as young as I used to be and I was a little sore from my hoisting over. I called my dad and said, "Thanks for the genetic make-up!" "Why, did you hit someone?" he asked. Thanks for the crazy, Dad.

There are Stupid Questions (no matter what your teacher says)

All nice and good teachers try to reassure their students that all questions are welcome and that they should not feel embarrassed if they need help with something. I agree that students often hide what they don't know for fear of looking stupid. I approach it honestly. I tell my students that smart kids ask questions when they don't understand - truth. Other teachers say "there are no stupid questions" - fallacy. To help all of you understand stupid questions teachers receive, I've broken them down into categories and provided some examples.

Were you listening at all?

This is one of the most common types. It involves a student asking a question that repeats, practically verbatim, what the teacher just said. Example from my class this week:

Ms. Dempsey: This is a quiz. You may use your notes and your homework as a reference. That means get out your notes and use them on this quiz.

Roberta: May we use notes on this quiz?

Didn't you just hear your classmate?

This is when a second student asks the same question that the student before just asked. My favorite is when this is combined with the first kind and they not only didn't hear me the first time, but also his/her classmate. Example that occurred directly after Roberta's question:

Bob: Wait, can we use notes on the quiz?

Do you think I'm lying to you?

This form of stupid question usually results from a student who is paranoid or has a math phobia. They ask the same question twenty times because they just can't believe that your answer is true.

Ms. D: You do not need to write down the original problem for word problems, but you do for every other kind. Here's how you can remember: Don't write any words, just numbers and variables. I'll say it again: if it has words, don't write it.

Vanessa: Do we need to write the words for numbers 1-3?

Ms. D: Nope

Vanessa: What about the instructions?

Ms. D: Remember, if it has words don't write it.

Vanessa: I don't get it. Do I have to write the words for numbers 1-3?

Ms. D: No, just answer it.

Vanessa: Wait...

Ms. D: Repeat after me: I do not need to write the words

Vanessa: What?

Ms. D: I'm serious, say it.

Vanessa: I don't need to write the words.

Are you messing with me or do you really not understand what I'm saying?

I give instructions all day long and I feel like I'm pretty clear most of the time, but sometimes I'm not sure. The best is when I'm directing a kid to a location in the room. They refuse to count and many of my directions involve counting: it's the third drawer down, the second cabinet, the fourth tray...

Bob: Where should my quiz go?

Ms. D: In the period three box.

Bob: Which one's that?

Ms. D: The third box down.

Bob: What?

Ms. D: See the stack of six trays? Count from the top, when you get to three that's the third box.

Bob: What?

Ms. D: Put your hand on the top tray. Say the number one.

Bob: One

Ms. D: Good, keep counting.

Bob: What? This one?

Ms. D: No, that's the second one, find the third.

Bob: This one?

Ms. D: That's the fourth. Find the third!

Ummm...why don't you take a sec to think about that one?

Kids ask me questions where the answer feels so obvious that they are answering it themselves as they ask it. I sometimes think they're messing with me, but the look of stupid confusion covers their faces and I know they really don't know what they're asking.

Ms. D: I'm returning your homework that you turned in on Wednesday. It is graded so you may keep it in your notebook.

Joe: Is this my homework?

Ms. D: Yes.

Joe: Should I turn it in?Ms. D: No, I'm returning it to you.

Joe: Where should I put it?

Ms. D: In your notebook.

Joe: Where in my notebook?

Ms. D: Seriously, which of your five sections do you think your homework should go in?

Joe: The homework section?

Ms. D: Bingo!

Now imagine a classroom of such questions six times over five days a week and that is the life of a teacher. It doesn't seem to matter how old or well educated the students are, you will always find a stupid question in your classroom. So the next time a teacher says, "There are no stupid questions," know that the teacher is lying and even she doesn't believe the truth in that statement.

I am Blessed

Have you ever wondered
Why you live where you do
Or know who you know
When the options were endless?

I could have been born in a small village
In some far off country
To a single parent
Or an abusive one

I could have had no opportunities
Thrown at my feet
To have to fight for everything
Food, safety, shelter.

I could have been uneducated
Unable to read
or write
or explore

I could have been, but I wasn't.

I was born in the best country
and a beautiful state
in a house with my own room
and brothers who love me

I have parents who
provided and spoiled
and loved and protected
and still do today.

I was given a fabulous education
for free, and yes I worked hard,
but honestly it was all given to me
as easy as saying, "Yes, please, I'll take that."

I have access to knowledge
and art
and science
and books, such lovely books

I can travel the world
again and again
I can see and be and do
whatever I want.

Why?

It's not like I deserve it! Or earned it!
With great riches come great responsibility.
So the question I must ask is
Not why, but how.

How can I use my riches
wisely and fully
to bless others
to make a difference?

How can I not waste
these precious resources of
time, wealth, education,
of love?

How can I glorify
the One who gave me
life, home, family,
blessings?

Every day I must answer
with my life,
my choices,
my actions.

Here's my life, Lord
Let it be
for you
and your glory.

Comic-Con: pre-'con' ceptions and post-'con' ceptions

For those of you who don't know, Comic-Con is a yearly event held in San Diego. It started as a place for comic enthusiasts to share in their common comic love and has grown to a place for nerds of many genres to unite in a four day nerd fest. This was my first year and I went because: a) I was curious b) three of my friends were going c) Twilight sometimes comes. Here are ten of my preconceptions I had before I went and ten postconceptions I now have after my foray into geekdom.

Pre "Con" ceptions:
1) We'd definitely be the cutest girls there. I mean seriously, I went to a nerdy school (with these girls, in fact) and we were considered high on the nerd/pretty scale.

2) Most of the people there would be awkward nerds who only step outside of their electronic caves for Comic Con.

3) We'd see a few things we liked and some things we didn't like.

4) I'd be tempted to buy everything with Wonder Woman on it.

5) I would get lots of free stuff (swag).

6) I would meet someone famous who would instantly see the 'star quality' I possess and sign me on the spot.

7) I would realize the extent of my own nerdiness because I would recognize and have a positive emotion toward many of the things I would see.

8) The people in costumes would be both cool and a little strange.

9) Our shirts would be awesome and people would stop us to tell us how awesome our shirts were.

10) We'd wait in a lot of lines.

Post "Con" ceptions:
1) We were not, in fact, the cutest girls there. There were some girls who were way cuter than we are...I don't know why they were there...

2) The wide range of people there was amazing. It was a people watching haven and some of them certainly fit a certain 'nerd' profile, but most people just seemed like normal, happy fans. It was actually kind of like going to UCI...

3) We got to see the "Chuck" panel and see the whole cast. That was just awesome. But I actually enjoyed the whole day. Even for things I didn't know anything about, it was really interesting to hear the panels and I had a great time the whole day. A lot of it had to do with the fact that I was there with my girls, but seriously, super fun day.

4) I would have bought Wonder Woman stuff, but they only had t-shirts. I wanted notebooks and pens and useful wonder woman stuff. I didn't even see any wonder woman comic books (although I didn't really look for those). Good thing I've got my underroos (ask Auntie Carol).

5) The only free thing I got was the bag they gave me to hold all the free stuff I was supposed to get (and a magazine). I was really hoping for pens or tattoos of wonder woman.

6) No one saw my star quality. The one famous person we met (Zach Whedon) did not seem too excited about meeting us, but he was kind enough to take a picture with us and humor us as we talked about Dr. Horrible.

7) So I am a nerd. I feel like the dam holding back the flood of nerdiness was broken down at comic-con and now I have fully realized how much of a nerd I am. I love Wonder Woman (but that was well documented before all this) and Chuck and half (or more) of the other stuff we saw there. I understood most of the referential jokes made on stage (Alias jokes, Firefly jokes, Dr. Horrible jokes...). But maybe it's like my friend, Aleta, says - I'm a geek translator: I speak and understand the language, but it's not my home country.

8) The people in costumes were both cool and a little strange. Some were just fabulous and really amazing. Some were just trashy. Some were super funny. Some were just strange.

9)We made our own shirts that had "Chuck" references on them. I was told by the same guy (two times), "I LOVE your shirt!" while he jumped up and pointed at it. One of Jfo's friends twittered about our shirts and included a picture of all of us. Later on, a girl stopped us and showed us her text, "That's really strange," she said, "I just got this tweet!" We were famous.

10) We did wait in lines, but they were all so efficiently managed and we had so much food with us and the company we kept was so entertaining - it didn't matter. The lines were part of the experience and actually a great part of it.

So now that I've been, I'm pretty sure I'm hooked. And the worst part is, you don't know what people or shows are going to be there until one week before comic-con takes place. Tickets sell out long before that, so the only way to see all that you want to see is to buy a four day pass. I'm pretty sure this will become a tradition for us and the four day pass will probably be a choice we'll automatically make. Overall, I had a fabulous time, I can't stop thinking about it, and I have all the pictures to prove it.

Words Matter

It may surprise you, but I love to talk. I know, I can hear the collective gasp of shock. I think God has a good laugh at me when I lose my voice completely. I love to speak and sing and make noise, even when no one is around to hear it. I love to read and write words. My love language is words of affirmation. I love words.

And yet, there are times when I seem to forget the power of words. I speak to people all day long. It's my job to do so. I have 200 young minds that listen to me, in varying degrees, for 43 minutes a day. Sometimes I say things in frustration to my students that I cannot believe have come out of my mouth. I say things that I would never say to an adult. Sarcasm comes spewing forth and I feel better for an instant, but I wonder if I've hurt their feelings. Yesterday I had a lunch party in my room for one period because they won a competition for raising money for cancer research. The kids did an amazing job of cleaning up, but the smell of Italian food filled the class. The two classes after lunch noticed and complained again and again. Finally, at the beginning of sixth period, I opened with, "Yes, it smells like food in here because my first period class had a party at lunch. I am sorry it smells like onions." The kids responded by shouting out simultaneously about what else it smelled like - 15 or so comments at the same time. I shouted back, "Thank you! It's not like I live in this room and have been smelling this stench for hours. I don't need you to describe every smell!" My face was turning red and they were surprised to illicit such a violent response of sarcasm. They got over pretty fast, but I certainly was mad over something pretty small.

I get used to the idea that maybe my words don't really matter. I think I can say hurtful things and they'll let it pass or I can say encouragement and it just flows past their preteen ears without making any difference. Some students respond to a discussion with me as if they had ear buds in their ears with music blaring. They smile and nod (or frown and nod) at all the appropriate places and wait for the lecture to be over.

But words are more powerful than that. I should know. I have remembered words teachers said to me ages ago. I have remembered good and bad things people have said in passing to me. Authority figures especially make a mark on my memory. (My favorite is when a teacher wanted a definition for effervescent and someone in class responded, "Brenda") I have post-it notes of encouragement that I sometimes give to my students. They say things like, "You can be proud of yourself for ..." or "I noticed something special about you today. It was..." or "You have no idea how much you helped me when..." I fill them out and just stick them to a kid's desk. I know for some kids, this is a special thing. For some I assume it means nothing...but I am wrong.

Yesterday, I was talking with a student who is really smart, but doesn't always do his work. His effort (and eventually his grade) fluctuates up and down depending on his mood. He had done nothing in class on his project that day. When I asked him during class, he said he was working on it at home. I told him that he had to do at least one part today. I checked on him at the end of class and he had not met the goal I had set for him. He had nothing. He then confessed that he had lost the paper explaining the project and didn't know what to do. He opened his notebook to show me the one part he did have and I saw a purple sticky note that said, "You can feel proud of yourself for working so much harder in math class." I gave that note to him in third quarter. He had saved it in his notebook.

On the surface this kid seems unfazed by me or my teaching. He seems too cool for school. He knows all the answers and can choose to participate or not, it doesn't matter. And yet he kept my note. He wasn't going to show it, but my words affect him.

I need to be so careful with what I say. I have the power to motivate and bring down 2oo times over every day. In my frustrations I need to be an example to my kids of what's appropriate. I need to use words that lift up, even in discipline. What a responsibility! I need to never take it lightly.

Let me end with an anecdote from one of my classes during a discussion about Einstein:
Kid 1: Wasn't it true that Einstein was only good at one thing?
Me: No, he was good at a lot of things.
Kid 1: That doesn't make me feel better about myself.
Me: But did you know that one of Einstein's teachers said that he would never amount to much?
Class in a bored, drone tone: Yes
Me: Ahh, the power of a discouraging word to motivate someone to great heights.
Kid 1: Man, now we'll never amount to anything, Miss D.
Me: Why not?
Kid 1: You encourage us too much!

I Demand Justice - If it's not too much of a bother

It's a strange thing about me. I am a bold person. I don't get embarrassed about dancing, speaking, singing in public. I don't mind looking ridiculous, asking questions, or helping others even if it's unwanted. But I am also an extremely meek person when it comes to confrontation. I want to be liked, I want to be loved, in fact, by everyone. I'm not talking just my parents and friends or even my students and colleagues. I want to be loved by strangers.

This is a burdensome and frankly stupid way to live, but it is something I cling to. This makes talking with people on the phone and demanding a problem to be solved probably one of the most difficult things for me to do.

My credit card was stolen a few months back. I was told by the company not to pay my credit card bill under any circumstances until they told me that the situation was cleared. They canceled my old card and issued a new one. I filed a police report and filled out all of the necessary paperwork for my card. No one called me. I waited and waited and called them several times.
Credit man: It may take weeks to clear this up
Me: But may I pay my card yet?
Credit man: NOOOO! NEVER PAY IT until we say so.
Me: Really? I hate having a balance, what about late fees?
Credit man: all late fees will be covered by the company. Just wait for us.

One month went by with similar interactions. I didn't use my card or pay it off (even though it killed me to have a balance). I also get these cards to buy clothes at my favorite store. It's the reason I use my credit card. I earn cash to spend at my store by charging my monthly expenses and paying it all off each month so I have no interest. Well, I had $60 to spend and they all expired before my card stuff was cleared up. They wouldn't let me use them without my card and I wasn't going to use it until it was cleared up.

Finally I got a bill in the mail saying I owed the credit card money. I received zero phone calls from the company telling me my progress. I called them and asked if I should pay it.
Credit man: Of course!
Me: But you said you'd call me and tell me I was supposed to pay it.
Credit man: You should pay this.
Me: Have all of the fraudulent charges been cleared?
Credit man: Yes.
Me: What about late fees.
Credit man: (with frustration) Of course we covered those.

I wrote a check covering the entire balance and breathed a sigh of relief that I could now have a zero balance...until I checked this month's statement. They apparently left off a thousand dollars from my payment check even though I wrote it for the full balance. They charged me a late fee and interest for the following month. I'm a math teacher...I know the pains of credit card interest and I make special care to not pay any extra. I want to work the system for my benefit. I was so mad.

So I called the credit card company and explained what happened.
Credit Lady: I'm so sorry. I see right here the clerical error. Just write us a check for the remaining balance and it will ok.
Me: But I want the interest removed.
Credit Lady: Of course.
Me: And I was promised that I wouldn't have to pay a late fee.
Credit Lady: I will remove that too.

Suddenly I felt empowered. I could simply ask for what I wanted and it was given to me. Is this how bold people feel all the time. I thought I should just go for it and ask about the $60 I had lost in the process.

Me: What about the $60
Credit Lady: Oh, I'm afraid I can't do anything about that.
Me: But I was unable to use the card points until this was all cleared up and they expired in the interim.
Credit Lady: I'm not able to do anything about that.

I could feel myself folding. I didn't want to be rude. What right had I to demand anything. I should just be thankful for what I had accomplished and hang up. But then I did something that shocked even me.

Me: Could your supervisor authorize that?
Credit Lady: Yes, let me transfer you.

Oh, yeah. I asked to speak with a supervisor and I got it all arranged. It's going to take another 8 weeks, but I'm going to get my money back! So in all, I saved myself $120 by being bold and assertive. I think that's all I have left in me for the year though, so it better not happen again. Baby steps...baby steps.

Why I Multitask

As I was brushing my teeth with my timed, electric toothbrush, I was thinking of all of the recommended times everyone has for all the things we're supposed to do each day. I wondered if it was possible to actually do everything everyone tells me I should do for the length of time they all tell me I need to do them. So I made a list. Here are some of the things I've been told to do each day (or things I need to do each day) and estimated times it takes to do them:

Things I should do each day:

Wake up at 6

Brush teeth - 2 min................ 2

Shower - 15 min.................... 17

Face - 1o min................... 27

Dress - 5 min................... 32

Hair and make-up - 20 min........ 52

Make breakfast - 15min............. 1:07

Eat breakfast -15........................ 1:22

Devo - 15 min.............................. 1:37

Drive to work - 15 min............... 1:52

Work - 8 hours............................ 9:52

Drive home - 15 min................... 10:07

Exercise - 30 min......................... 10:37

Cook dinner - 30 min................... 11:07

Eat dinner - 30 min ......................11:37

Make tomorrow's lunch - 30 min......12:07

Call family/talk with friends - 30min...... 12:37

Wash face - 15 min........................ 12:52

Floss - 1min.................................... 12:53

Rinse - 1 min................................... 12:54

Brush - 2 min................................. 12:56

Quiet time - 1 hour........................ 13:56

Wash hands (during the day) - 4 min....... 14:00

Bed by 10

If you count the 8 hours of sleep I need, this allows me 2 hours in my day of free time to watch tv or read. Now this does not count the fact that on each day of the week I have a different activity planned that usually takes at least 2 hours (on Wednesday it's 6), that I tend to work once I get home, that I have usually committed to planning or preparing for some thing at work or church that requires sewing or shopping or creating, that I need to check email (or facebook), or allotting for any other emergency that might come up. So I've determined that I cannot make it all happen.

And yet...if I talk to my mom on the phone while preparing dinner and if I brush my teeth in the shower...and if I choose not to style my hair or wear makeup... and if I exercise while at work... and if I eat breakfast while in my car on the way to work...and if I use my cellphone while driving... and if I only get 6 hours sleep... and if I talk to my roommate while we watch tv as we eat dinner and I'm grading (or sewing or creating), then I can save hours!

So I must multitask. I cannot cut out the things I love just to do silly things like "be healthy" or "well rested". Ha! I defy time by efficiently spreading myself too thin and overworking my brain by performing in mediocrity on several tasks at once. Take that, twenty-four hour days!

The End of 'Me' Time

I often hear the admonition to "take some time for yourself" or "you can't please everyone" or "maybe you should reduce some of the stress in your life." I hear these admonitions, but I don't usually listen. I fill my life with all sorts of activities and obligations. Someone once asked me if my work was my life and I answered, "Yes, but so is my family and my church. I try to squeeze three lives into one." Is this wearing? Is this something that brings my stress levels up and my sleep time down? Yes.

So this spring break, I decided to heed those warnings and take some time for me. I went on a women's retreat to start it off and had a wonderful time. While there, I tried hard not to think of what I should be doing to maximize my effective use of time. I tried not to squeeze in as much conversation time with each person I knew and while talking with her thinking, "I need to also talk with those thirty other people." Instead I just talked with whomever was near. I talked as long as I wanted and listened wholeheartedly.

After I got back, I hid away at the beach house. I brought a little food, some clothes, and some books and I just sat outside and read. For three days. It was wonderful. I even spent one whole day where I didn't think, "what should I be doing now instead of this?" I ignored my potential responsibilities and just existed. It was glorious. Nine hours of sleep each night, food all day and two books completed.

Now that I'm back in the real world, the dam is no longer able to hold back the waters of responsibility and I feel that I've stayed away too long. Tomorrow I have choir, church, missions report, time to spend with my family (especially Paul and Erin), hundreds of papers to grade, and laundry to do. This week at school I have "Annie" rehearsals, lesson plans to refine, sub plans to write, grades to enter, seating charts, and meetings. After school I have Bible studies, dr. appointments, and friends to see.

I don't want to complain (too late, I suppose) because I love my life. I love to do all of the things I do. I love my family, and I love my friends. I love to devote myself to these things. As my friend, Aleta, said: I like to keep my cup full, to the brim and just above so that I cannot take one more drop.

It was nice to have a couple days of just me time, but now I feel like I've not spent my week off as well as I could. I certainly procrastinated on the important stuff enough. Let the busy days begin.

Life Lessons Learned by Being Raised by Wolves...I Mean Boys

I was the only girl in my family. I had no sisters and all male cousins on one side. My female cousins (all 3 of them) lived in Northern CA so I didn't get to see them as often as I liked. That meant that my formative years were spent playing with boys. This gave me a unique experience that formed me into the tom-boy princess I am today. Here are some lessons I can pass on to others less fortunate than myself:

1) Wonderwoman doesn't cry. Whenever my brothers would tease me or hurt me and I would cry, they knew they would get in trouble so they tried to convince me that real women didn't cry. Wonderwoman was (is) my favorite super hero so if she didn't cry then I shouldn't either. It often worked.

2) Anything can be a competition. Get a bunch of boys together in an empty room and they can make a competition out of it. Who can stand on one leg the longest, who can jump the farthest, who can hold their breath without passing out? If you add in a prop then the possibilities are endless. One of my personal favorites is the crawl around a table. You take a fold up rectangular table and see if you can crawl around it (the narrow end). It's trickier than it may seem.

3) Instructions are for people who don't know what they're doing and you should be able to figure out how to build anything by just looking at it. (I actually go against this one entirely. I read EVERY instruction).

4) If you don't have one, build it. Need a shelf? Build one. Is something broken? You can fix it with some duct tape. Zip line? No problem, I'm sure I've got some extra wire and a pulley and harness somewhere in the garage.

5) Chicks dig scars...I'm not sure if this works the other way around...

6) Don't tell the hospital the real reason your elbow is bruised or your knee is hyper-extended. "While wrestling with my brother in the kitchen, I was thrown to the floor and landed on my elbow." They look at you funny when they see that you are a grown-up and so is your 6'5'' brother.

7) Don't react. When teased, scared, pushed, pulled, tickled, or put in a choker hold simply relax and wait for it to be over. They usually get bored long before you pass out...usually.

8) The Matrix is the best movie ever made...and if you disagree Paul will kill you.

9) If you like (0r at least know enough about them) Sci-Fi, the Godfather movies, Rambo, and Rocky you will always have a movie connection with boys.

10) Don't ever punch at full strength or someone might punch you back at his full strength...trust me on this one.

Never Ask Me For Directions

I don't live in Long Beach, but I have driven in that city most of my life. Much of my family lives in that city, my church is in Long Beach, and I drive through it at least twice a week. I should know a lot about it. I should be able to identify and locate major streets by name.

I mix up words that begin with the same letter. I usually look at the first letter of a word and just jumble the rest. I think this came from speed reading. I would read the first letter of a character's name and say to myself, "Oh, the M girl said that." This can be a problem in that I get March and May confused constantly. I often switch student's names up. Hieu and Hien are always the same. Angela and Angelica I usually just mumble out and Trinh, Trang, Trong, Thong, and Thang are hopelessly mixed up without apology from me.

If only this key piece of information was posted somewhere on my car. While driving through Long Beach last Tuesday night, a man pulled up beside me and rolled down his window. I know what you're thinking...don't respond, just drive away. A strange man wants to talk to you...in Long Beach. But I'm unable to think defensively and so I rolled down my window expecting him to tell me my headlight is out.

"Can you tell me where Willow is?"

I should have said the truth, which is a blazing and pathetic, "no." But I knew I should be able to direct someone from Cherry to Willow. I've driven past it a million times. I know that it is south of my current position, but which W street am I thinking of? Woodruff, Wardlow, and Willow become this mixed up jumble of street names and locations and suddenly I have no idea where Willow is. Does this stop me?

"Make a u-turn and turn right on Carson, you'll hit Wardlow and then turn right you should eventually hit Woodruff and turn right, then you'll hit Willow."

Immediately I know how wrong I am. Wardlow is parallel to Carson, so unless he's driving on some non-Euclidean streets, he's never going to make it. As he is following my doomed and stupid directions, I shout out more jumbled information from my window. It's only after I'm on the freeway that I realize how stupid my directions were and I pray for the poor guy who is potentially following them.

Why, out of all the cars did he pick mine? Do mini's seem friendlier? Was the Phi Beta Kappa sticker on the back a possible indicator of intelligence. Well, I'm sure he's aware by now how wrong he was in his choice.

Missing Grandpa a Year Later

It is hard to believe that it's been a year since my grandpa died. In some ways, I don't even like to believe that it's true at all and in others it feels like his being gone is now a part of our lives.

February proved to be a tough month. It was the anniversary of his getting sick, Valentine's Day which would have been their 62nd anniversary, and then the anniversary of his passing on the 26th. My policy: avoid it all.

Valentine's day used to be a wonderful celebration for me. I always loved it, regardless of my dating status, because it was my grandparents' day. Their love was such a fantastic love story that felt like an endless Hallmark movie. Their love for each other spilled out to all of us. We always got gifts on Valentine's day from Grandma and Grandpa. This year, we didn't celebrate. I didn't even buy them for my students.

I was sure that last Friday would be a tough day for me, but it wasn't. I didn't cry, I thought of Grandpa often, but it was with fondness and pleasure in my memories of him. I felt that I was beginning to accept the reality of him being gone and I was finally able to think back in joy.

Today I was caught off guard. I'm reading a cute book to my first period class about Jr. High kids. I was reading a chapter today that was not particularly sentimental or dramatic, but just involved a boy going on a walk with his grandpa and hearing some of his stories. As I read the line, "and boy could my grandpa talk!" I got choked up. I started to cry and could barely get out the words. I really miss my grandpa's stories.

Sometimes when I would be cornered by my grandpa and he'd be telling me a story, I'd tell myself, "He won't always be here to say this. Take the time to listen!" And I would do it. I would listen and soak it in and savor it. How much I would love to just hear one more. To have him grab my arms and tell me something.

The other day I wore a dress that I knew he liked and I could just hear his compliment to me. He would always grab my arms and look at me and say, "That's a beautiful dress." It's impossible to feel ugly when an artist compliments you like that.

I can't even imagine what it must be like for Grandma. I've decided that she's going to be sad forever until she's with him again and that's ok. I'm going to try to give her glimmers of happiness, but when you've been cherished by a man like John Reimer for over 61 years, it seems pretty nearly impossible to try to live joyfully without him.

I am so thankful for my Grandpa and the time that I was able to have with him. I am thankful that I knew him so well and that I was able to be loved by him and love him. I miss him so much, but I am starting to remember him with joy. I sure did love him and I sure do miss him.

My Book Challenge

. So I know I have a problem. I know that my love for books can be a little obsessive. I know that I also buy more books than I need because I like to have a loaning library and, honestly, I feel comforted by being surrounded by books. Recently I was struck by how much I spend on books each year. I also noticed that I have a lot of books I haven't read yet. One night I decided to count them: 65. That's right, in my room alone (that doesn't count the closet of books I have) there are 65 books I own and haven't read. Then I counted the books I've borrowed and haven't read: 30. So I essentially have 100 books in my room that I haven't read yet.


. I gave myself this challenge and wrote it down next to my list of books I need to read:

. I may not purchase another book until I have read every book I own except theological, devotional, historical, or math books.

. I must also finish one borrowed book before I can buy one new book. (This is to make room in my shelves and because it's rude to keep a book for that long)

Exceptions are:

• Books in a series in which I've read every previous book in that series.
• Gifts (for others or from others)
  
• Books I need for a specific purpose. (I know this sounds like a loophole, but what I mean is books I may need for a Bible study or for my classroom, but ones I need to buy intentionally)

. It has been two weeks since I've made this choice and so far I've made it through one trip to Barnes and Noble without buying a thing! I've also finished one borrowed book, one owned book, and started to read four other books. I think I might make an addendum stating that if I don't want to read a book on my list, I may sell it to the used bookstore, but cannot replace it with a purchase from that store unless the previous stipulations have been met.

. I'm not sure how long it will take me to complete my list. I would say a year, but some of the books include "David Copperfield" and "Gone With the Wind" which I've meant to read for 18 years after I dishonestly wrote a book report about it even though I hadn't read it (I got an A, but it was a tainted A). Those will take me a long time, but I'm sure that since most of the other books are either teen fiction or Christian romance novels I'll be able to zip through them quickly.

. I'll keep you posted on my progress and feel free to hold me accountable. I'm just not sure what to do about our school's book fair...it's for a good cause...I better start reading fast.

A walk around my 'hood (or how Frank's real name is Ray)

I decided that watching 4 episodes of Gilmore in a row, although entertaining and restful, is not going to make me a healthy person. So I decided to put on a cute sweater and go for a walk around my neighborhood.

Five seems to be a happening time in my neighborhood. I saw Frank, the frisbee guy cooking on the BBQ. Best Christmas decoration people were taking their lights down. All black dog walking bike riding guy was out for another ride. And several other people were out and about. I felt like I was part of a community.

You see, I grew up in a neighborhood that was more like a small town. We all had keys to each others houses and knew all the details of everyone's life. My parents' neighborhood was more like another family to me. Since I've moved here, things have been a little more quiet. Maybe it's because I don't have my father to instigate introductions or maybe everyone else is a little bit quieter too. I just felt bad that after four years I only know a few of my neighbors by their real names.

Best Christmas decoration people always have the best Christmas decorations. They get together with their whole building and do a theme. One year they even gift wrapped the garage doors. I've always wanted to tell them that I love their decorations and tonight I did!
All black dog walking bike riding guy is just as his name implies. He wears only all black and rides his bike with his dog on the leash. Seriously, even his dog is black. It kind of creeps me out. What made him choose a monochromatic life? The ease of one color? Does he just think black is elegant? Is he color blind? A tragic fingerpainting accident that has left him devoid of happiness expressed through color? I don't know. I avoided him on my walk.

And then there's Frank, the frisbee guy. Frank is an older gentleman who is always playing with kids toys in the street. He often plays with frisbees, remote control cars, kites, airplanes, and one time this complicated UFO thing that was glowing and traveled on a string connecting two balconies across the street from each other. Frank has always been a pleasant waver when I drive by. Maybe he calls me "that mini girl", but Julie and I named him Frank. Well it took me three laps around the complex to get up the courage to introduce myself to Frank, but I finally did. He's lived here for 21 years (that's about as old as the complex) and his name is Ray. His friend across the street is Al. I have to tell you, I was a little disappointed. He really looks more like a Frank to me, but I'm glad to get to know him.
So now I know even more of my neighbors and so if I am tragically murdered and the detectives start asking my neighbors about the girl who lived in suite D, more of them will know more about me than just that I drive a mini and can be heard singing to myself as I skip to the mailbox. This brings me comfort.