Holiday Wishes (or in my case, MERRY CHRISTAMS!)

First of all, yes, I am a bad, bad person, er, blogger. Hopefully Santa doesn't blog, in which case I did not make the naughty list... I'm beginning to think God does blog, though, with all the information I feel like he has been pouring into my head this past week and a half...

On the dream front, there is no big development, just a steady flow of ideas and thoughts and "moments" that I know are from Him in terms of the writing of the play. I am very humbled that He is involved and a bit tired with all the inspiration. It is comforting and exciting to know that God has a plan for this production.

On the holiday front, the traveling time that began in November has almost ended. One more long drive on the 27th and then my life (with Nana and my dogs!) is mine again.

This past month without Nana, and half of it with out the dogs was awful! I am not meant to live alone. No question. Poor Roo apparently bit down on a hard bar of some sort and managed to shatter her two upper pressure molars and so she had to go to the kennel early for the holidays (and of course Piper had to go two... he's a good brother) and she is now recovering quietly there for the holidays after her surgery. I want to know what she was chewing on. Heavens above, she is not a chewer and she would have had to bitten down hard on something to do that. Further she didn't let on to any pain at all... This is a mystery I desperately want solved and yet I worry I cannot.

I got to visit for two days with my dear friend Jasmine and her children. What a delightful group. I brought with me my family tradition of Shrinky Dink ornament making... Oh my! Now I am Aunt Shrinky Dink (which at my height is kinda funny). I was also exhausted and I wasn't even nursing, changing, driving or disciplining these children. Jasmine has my complete and total admiration, esteem, (heck!) worship! She rocks! Her husband isn't half bad either...

Meanwhile the boy scouts are revolting... I mean, they are behaving in a revolt like manner. Most of the staff has the problem of being a legal adult but not really a mental one... I won't go into more details than that for fear if someone reads this I get blamed for a ridiculous situation I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH!!!! But let me say, for the record... STUPID!!!!! Oh, and quit calling me! You never want my opinion when I give it, and you don't take it when you ask for it, so leave me in peace! Obviously a sore spot...

Then there is X-mas here in the Maryland! Oh. I get to watch a four month old and 8 year old twins on X-mas morning. My cup runneth over. Seriously. If you have never watched this holiday through the eyes of little ones, you are so missing out. I don't have my own, so I borrow (with family support and permission, mind you... also I just come and watch, I have to do very little work for the whole thing).

So here is my Christmas wish for all of you, the ones I know personally, the ones I only know inter-net-tedly and the ones who know me and yet we have never spoken. My God bless you and keep you, may God make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you and may God grant you his peace. May you find in this holiday season a hope and joy that lasts the whole year. May you be close to loved ones, who know they are, and who show you that you are too. May you be safe, warm, fed and clothed. And lastly, may you see the smile of a child and be bathed in that glow... it is the hope of our future.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year!

Why people like me shouldn't dream...

So I am going to add insult to injury by writing a long rambling post after all this time of sporadic posting. Further I shouldn’t even be writing this because I have other projects I am supposed to be working on, and this is not one of them, but I am writing it anyway.

I had a dream last night.

This was weird for several reasons.

1) I barely slept (and there is no good reason for that by the way, I went to bed at 9 and stared at the clock until 5:38). Somewhere I blinked and had this dream…
2) In my dreams everything is usually jumbled, names, faces and history don’t match and over half the people don’t exist or are characters from TV or some combination there of…
3) Everything was vivid, specific and I remember all of it…

Now I have a problem. The dream is following me. I keep seeing it, thinking about it, and I am really having trouble focusing on anything else…

Now I am sure you are all going “Alright already, what was it about… G rated version please!”

Well, first, there is no issue of rating.

The dream was about me going to drop something off at a church, where I worked with the youth and I found out they were leaving on a retreat and the speaker was this guy I only knew briefly a decade ago (he was a speaker at a retreat I organized for youth) and the rest of the dream was me running around trying to get to go… He was in the dream, right name, right face, right history. All very weird… The circumstances under which I knew him were very weird…

So when I got to school today I looked him up. And found him. And emailed him…

Subject: Kind of Out in left field, but... Hello
Hi,

This is going to be totally out of left field, I know, but...

Many years ago (less than a decade, but close enough to round in that direction) I was an Undergraduate/Graduate student at **, and for a short time, a youth minister in ************* . That summer ('98) you spoke at my BSU, I went to your college mission conference (that was running concurrent to a biker week!) and you were the guest speaker at a youth retreat I did. As I recall my amazing sense of direction and the ******* fog caused you to miss your flight, spend a whole day in an airport (waiting for a rescheduled flight) and nearly miss your last set of booster shots before your trip to Russia where you were an undercover missionary...

That was a long time ago. But it was a critical summer (and defining year) for me in the grand scheme of things... Not a lot of my finest moments, but...

Anyway, it isn't something I think about frequently anymore, like most I'm pretty busy with work (English Teacher), family, church/youth drama productions (writing, directing, producing), school drama productions, PhD applications, Grading Papers, volunteer work and the general bustle of holidays... Yet last night I had the strangest dream... You had come to speak to my youth group here in my area and you were yourself... right name, right face, right history (normally my dreams are much more jumbled and I rarely recognize anyone). Anyway, it was such an odd and vivid thing... I thought I'd look you up and see the trouble you were into now, just to say hi and wish you a Merry Christmas...

Congratulations on your PhD. My father finished his while I was in grad school and I hope to start mine Fall 2007 (last step to getting in next month) so I know what an accomplishment that is. You said all those years ago that this was your goal... Being a professor suits the man I met back then...

So, as I said, kind of out of nowhere, and most definitely odd, but thought I'd say "Hi!"

~Sandy

The weirder part is he remembered me, wrote back promptly and was very polite. He probably thinks I am nuts… I also sent a letter to my youth pastor at my church…

Hey, listen, I know (from some sources that will remain nameless) that you apparently have a bit of a heart for singles? Alliance definitely has a heart for missions and then of course we have the whole youth group thing...

What would you say to putting together a mission conference/rally for youth, college students, singles or some combination there of next year? Or maybe we could kill several birds with one (well several actually) stones...

This is going to sound a bit weird, but I had a dream last night... this is impressive because 1) I got little sleep for no good reason and 2) I don't usually have such memorable and vivid dreams where everyone has the right name, face and history...

It was about a conference, with young people and a particular speaker I know (and e-mailed this morning and who remembers me... but more on that later) and it was all really strange and I can't seem to let it go as I move about my day this morning. I've been trying to write as my kids work and I just keep seeing the dream play over and over in my head... isn't that weird?
The speaker's name is ***** *****.... (Look him up online... there are even some of his sermons) I knew him a decade ago when he was still in graduate school at ***** *****... Now he is a professor, Christian Philosopher (not the scary kind) and evangelist... The real deal... He was a speaker at a retreat I did as a youth minister all those years ago... Why he came to mind in all of this I have no idea...

Anyway, I even know who we can get to do the music (to supplement, amp up what we can do ourselves) and here is the important part, with this weight on my chest, I know where some funding could come from...

Obviously we are all tremendously busy and this would be a not small project, and now (X-mas 2006) is not the best time, but I needed to tell you about this... I think God is laying it on my heart... It happens sometimes... It makes me hyper and so far, it's always been good stuff when I pay attention and get proactive... Maybe it's this whole examining what happens when we put off God's call? Who knows?

So there.

I told you.

~Sandy

I think I might be losing my mind. Serves me right for trying to sleep when I have a play to write and so much work to do…

Maybe I don’t even really make sense at all?

Hopefully, I’m at least amusing for y’all’s sake.

What I’ve learned so far…

When I was a kid there was an informal list of things I wanted to do with my life. It was never something I wrote down, like some people, it was just something I kind of knew… Now, having crossed officially over into my 30’s (31 today… this past year I was only on the cusp, where as now I have fallen in) I find myself evaluating that list, making a new one and also, well, laughing about what I’ve learned so far.

When I was in high school, planning my life (as we do when we are in high school) I figured I’d have the lead in a play, go to the prom, get an undergraduate degree, publish a novel, be a nurse in the navy, have visited many places I had never been before, go on a missions trip, meet “the one,” get married, have kids, pursue an advanced degree, have a dog, own a house, and be deliriously happy.

The reality is I never had the lead role in a play in high school, though I had a couple leads in bigger skits in college, and I have written and directed quite a few plays in the past ten years. I did not go to the prom… while I occasionally think about it I’m not sure it really matters. I have still not published a novel. But I am still working on it. Not only did I get the undergraduate, but I got the masters too and am now looking at the PhD. I’ve been on a missions trip, though I had hoped to do more. Recently I have begun to travel, The UK, Central America, New York, but I still want to get to Greece, Japan and back for more time in England. I’ve had two dogs. One worked out, and one didn’t, and I also help raise Nana’s dog. I don’t own a house, but I’ve owned every one of my vehicles outright, which is nice. The house thing isn’t right for me yet. Obviously I am not a nurse in the Navy. But I think this is a better fit in the end anyway and I did become a medic…

Meeting “the one” and getting married and having kids seems like an odd thing for me now. I mean, it still sounds nice and all, and being alone is not the most fun thing, but it is not as important as I thought it might be. It might still happen, or it might not. I’m okay with that.

Rescuing Nana is not something that was on my list. Yet I think of it as one of the most important events of my adult life. Working at a scout camp wasn’t on the list either and it has become one of the most defining issues of my life.

Deliriously happy is fiction. Doesn’t exist, but joy and contentment do. I think I have those… Most of the time… when I let myself.

Here is my new list.

1. Finish PhD
2. Publish Novel
3. Write Screenplay and submit it to someone… Insist on being involved in production if it is purchased.
4. Make sure Nana is always taken care of
5. Visit Greece, Japan and get back to London (a lot!)
6. Go on a Cruise to Alaska with Linda
7. Surprise my Dad
8. Present at NCTE and/or ALAN
9. Retire wisely, financially stable and with the ability to live as I see fit
10. Teach an entire year where I make the rules!

I’ll see where I am at 41!

Random thoughts, rants and observations

It is always disturbing to get phone calls from friends late at night. I mean, I want to talk to them, they are friends, but, it's late and I want to sleep occasionally too... Worse is getting roused once in bed, but still same dilemma... Worst is when they are calling to chew you out for not posting and they don't know what's going on in your life... I'll end that discussion there...

One friend I was speaking to misunderstood the nick-name and kept referring to my Nana as The Nana. Except, I rather like that. I may begin calling her that... kind of like The Godfather...

Nana's dog Piper is dumb... really dumb. I mean I used to tell people Roo was smarter, but they always said I was biased because she was mine and I figured they were right, but now I have proof. Dog is dumb as a sheep! I tried to help him up the stairs onto my bed and he fell backwards with his feet in the air like a tipped cow! Further ( and this has nothing to do with intelligence, but!) he bit me! Let me say again, HE BIT ME!!!! and drew blood. Now it was an accident, he was getting his treat, but my thumb was bleeding! Nana better come back and claim this dog soon...

Further, it is also disturbing to note that the house gets just as dirty without Nana here as it does with her. That means that as the person who spends the least time home, I make the most mess. I used to tell myself that I paid people to clean up my house because I had the extra burden of Nana. Now I know that I pay people to clean my house because I am a slob... or at least creatively messy.

A high up member of the Camp Staff (who is younger than I am and less educated) relegated me to furniture status last week, saying, "Sandy is simply a part of camp, like furniture." How flattering. I was tempted to ask if I am a lamp or a bed, but neither one has good connotations, so I kept my mouth shut.

(Warning, Rant Approaching) Reading other people's blogs, lately I am struck by why it is a good thing that I don't tell people my last name, don't get overly specific in terms of family and try to maintain some amount of anonomnimity. Some other bloggers don't do this and then even pick on family members when readers are very aware of who those people are and what they look like and even where they live. What kind of narcissistic whack job does that to a family member? I talk about my mom, sure, but no one could find her, much less figure out who she is unless they already know me... (And if they haven't killed her by now she's safe...) Yet I am astounded by the amount of people who are so blatant in their malice, judegmentalism and specific comments. Then they hide behind "honesty", "being wronged" and their side of the story. No matter how many people read their blog and "side" with them on an issue, they are wrong and frankly if I can be so bold, they are sinning... God does not have a blog cataloging everyone else's wrongs so other people can read it, and trust me it hurts him when we are wrong... Add to that the fact that as humans we can't be sure we are right like God can and I think we should keep our specific damning comments to ourselves if we can't make them general and "safe." I'm actually watching people get hurt, families ripped apart and it's sad... End of Rant...

Did I mention how much I love books! Coming back from this teachers conference and having so many books and so many more I want to read now, it's like all night theater in my head lately. It's a wonder I get any sleep for my friends to interrupt late at night...

Boy are my arms tired ...

This has been an amazingly busy few weeks and the immediate loss of my Nana in the past few days has made it even more pronounced an exhaustion. Now, before you start weeping and keening... Nana isn't dead and she hasn't moved out, she's just gone to her daughter's house for the month of December to visit with said daughter, her grandson and her brother. These were things I couldn't take her to do, but my mom could, soo.... That's right, it's just me and the dogs.

The lonliness of this senario is only magnified by the trip I took to Nashville for the whole week before Thanksgiving with Mom, Nana and a colleuge from work for the NCTE (National Council of Teachers of English) Annual Conference being held in the Gaylord Grand Old Oprey Hotel. What a ride! This place was huge and beautiful and delicious and expensive (which is why it was so nice that my principal paid for most of it...). I met authors, listened to other teachers and had all my suspicions confirmed as to the true evil of education, No Child Left Behind. Course as bad as I thought it was, these English teachers are mad and are not going to take it anymore. We actually had a seminar on Civil Disobedience and how we are now lobbying to fight the renewal of the bill. Oh My! Oh plus I got close to 150 books, mostly free!

So here I am now alone at home with (and talk about another anger issue) no internet! Can I formally announce my hatred of BellSouth? Turns out there are only a limited number of ports in my area for DSL. During an interuption of service that is not my fault(!) my spot got given to someone else and they don't have any more spots right now. So I am alone in my house, screaming!

I had this idea that I would enjoy the break and quiet.

I miss Nana... I miss her a lot.

Painfully Honest

Why does honest have to be painful? The other day I read a blog post about someone feeling they needed to say something "in love" to a friend of theirs who was over-weight. They were shocked and outraged that the friend got angry at them. They considered themselves righteous for being brave enough to step up on the issue. I'm not so sure I agree with that one. Frankly that part of this discussion is a bit of a quagmire so I am going to avoid it at all costs.

The question in my mind though, is why, if the truth will set you free, is the truth so painful? Hang on, I know that is actually a stupid question, but let me explain.

On my GRE one of the things I had to do was write an essay on my opinion of the idea that all political leaders had to lie in order to be effective. I wanted to say that wasn't true. By the end of the paper I still thought it didn't need to be true, but that in today's world it had become true. Why does the truth have to be painful?

Then there is this other issue of why does the fact that I disagree with someone have to mean that I am not seeing the truth? My Dad and I had a conversation on Friday (yes, the wonderful Dad I usually write so glowingly about, none of that has changed, this was just a conversation.) He thinks I am not dealing with something correctly, that I can't see the truth. Personally I just think he doesn't understand what I am expressing as everything he said makes sense to me, but is not exactly the issue... So who is not "seeing the truth" here? And why does that truth have to be painful.

No, I'm not telling you what the argument was about because it wasn't an argument and there is a good chance I am PMSing which nullifies everything said anyway...

Mom gets here Monday. We leave for Nashville and the NCTE conference Thursday. Pray for me and pray that my mother lives... Talk about Painful! (Yes, posting will continue to be erratic for a while...)

Good Eats

OK, I haven't posted in a bit, school computer is being difficult about blogging and so I have to do it at home... Add to that the migraine from hell on Monday (I was in a dark room for nearly 12 hours!) and well...

Here is an amazing recipe that I tried today... I made it up, but it sounded good in my head.

Chop up and brown 1 or 2 Kielbasas then add

1 Large rough chop onion. (I prefer Vidalia) saute with sausage, then add

2 or 3 rough chopped peppers (red, green yellow...) and sliced mushrooms.

Continue to Saute.

Add 2 big chopped granny smith apples (yes, trust me...)

then season with

3 dashes woshtishire (sp?), generous dash of Thyme, Cinnamon, Apple Cider Vinegar, Dry Mustard, Paprika (spicy and/or sweet), pepper, salt, chili powder (if you like a little more pep), minced garlic and a bit of ginger.

Add 1/2 cup real apple cider and 1/4 cup pure cranberry juice.

Mix well and simmer until veggies and apples are tender but not mushy.

Serve in a big bowl with a fork.

Oh Yeah. Sounds weird, but really neat, savory and not overly sweet... Seriously!

Additionally, it needs to be said, two of my favorite lines from TV and Movie...

"Go sell crazy somewhere else, we are all full up here!"

and

"You can't kill him, I need him for the 20% of you I can't handle!"

What I learned on vacation

This past week was a whirlwind of family, friends, nostalgia, old demons and mostly joy. I think I grew a lot in just the one week and came to a lot of important realizations. Some answers I was looking for, but just as many I sort of stumbled across.

On Friday, October 20, I flew into San Francisco to go visit my old hometown of high school, Novato, CA. While there I stayed with my former Journalism teacher who was a second mom to me and has become a great friend. Linda is a sprite-like, elfin even, little lady barely in her 60’s, though she looks much younger. She is as she herself described an earth mother. Time with her is always magical and full of learning. While visiting her I got to drive around my old hang-outs, and had meals with two other influential teachers from my past. Hanging out with all three of them confirmed something important for me. My own humanity. The importance of my individuality. They are people, in their own right, in addition to being teachers and like them I too am a unique individual. This was not a new lesson, but it was important none-the-less.

When leaving SF airport I was driving my rental car and got very lost in down town Frisco. Let me just say that while the people in Georgia often refer to Floridian Drivers as Flatlanders; I imagine Frisco drivers call Atlantaians the same thing. OMG! Worse, there was no one to help me and Linda wasn’t even sure where I was. My ability to get lost is legendary to say the least, so I was winding up my heart for a big loud panic and then I took a deep breath and figured it out and got to where I needed to be. Sometimes when I don’t let myself get spun up things are actually easier to fix.

Linda took me to my first Opera. Rigoletto. If you have never seen Opera, go. The stories make no sense, but it is still wonderful. The music swells and you hear it in your soul. I’ll leave that there, but I fell in love.

The best trip of all was a trip Linda and I took to Carmel Valley and Big Sur. Many years ago my family lived in Monterey while my father attended The Naval Post Graduate School. It was a beautiful place and I have good memories, but I also have some very bad ones. My mom talks about it like the last bastion of happiness in our family history (with all of us together anyway). Yet for me it was not. Linda and I went to several of the places I remembered from childhood and walked and shopped and chatted and looked and ate and I made a memory of that place that was mine, on my terms and that I have separate from my parents. This was important. Carmel Valley, Nepenthe, Big Sur and all were as beautiful as I ever imagined. Looking out over that beautiful ocean I remembered more about who I wanted to be and accomplish in a more clear way than I had before. Further, I felt the stirring of freedom in my soul that dusted out some cobwebbed corners. Oh! And my eyes are the color of the Monterey Bay Sea Water. I knew I recognized the color somewhere.

Visiting with Linda was such a joy. The talks we had, the laughs and even the tears. That is family to me.

Then I flew home, and got a good night's sleep. On Thursday I woke up and went to work out. Turns out you cannot work out hard on an empty stomach. You pass out when doing lunges and your trainer has to feed you her lunch (PB&J) and then she makes you get up and finish the work-out. Lesson Learned…

Then I drove to Gainesville, Florida to visit more friends that have become family. This was also a neat moment for me. Visiting them is always a joy, but this one may go down as one of my favorites. The difference is hard to explain, really. Maybe it has to do with me really being happy with who I am and being able to enjoy the blessings of my life.

The drives to and from were especially interesting because I got to think and process all that I am learning. It was a bit humbling as I looked back over the past several months, decisions I’ve made and paths I am choosing. Also the paths and choices of others around me and what I thought my life would be like if I did those things versus how their lives have actually turned out.

So now I am back to the grindstone.

Wednesday I meet with the head of the Graduate Department for the PhD program I want to start next fall. Nervous doesn’t really sum it up. This is where I really find out what the next big evolution in my life is going to be.

After the break, though, I think I’m up for whatever it is.

Happy Dance

Today I woke up to a beautiful morning after a good-night sleep after a 27 hour day. 27 Hours! That's how long your day is when you fly across country going East to West.

This morning I am in San Francisco, in the home of one of my favorite people. So this morning I am happy! There is another reason too, though... not just that there isn't a student in miles of me, either, by the way....

Walking to the airport from my car, carrying my suitcase, I noticed something. The suitcase wasn't heavy and it wasn't hard to carry and my back and shoulders didn't ache from the strain. Then on the plane, noticing that the seats were narrow, the plane was crowded and I had a middle seat, I went ahead, knowing that even in the best of circumstances the seat belt is a struggle to fasten (I can do it, but I just didn't want to fight with it on the first day of vacation...), and asked for an extender. While I was waiting for it, almost without thinking I fastened my lap belt. No struggle. Oh My! The stewardess came to me with the extender and said, "you needed this?" and I answered, smugly I might add, "No. I guess I'm thinner than I thought I was..."

Happy Dance. And I'm in a place that is home with people I adore and I am going to the opera tonight and Carmel Valley, The Barnyard and Nepenthe on Tuesday. Top That!

Leaving Oz

This is for a good friend, but bear with me it will take a while (sometimes the yellow brick road is winding!)

First, beta-blogger is driving me crazy (yeah, I know, short trip...). I was so excited to be able to blog at work again. Now the security settings at school will let me read blogs, even beta-blogs, but I can't post or comment on the beta. OK. Also people are less able to comment on my blogs, which I was surprised to find bothered me more than I thought it would. I mean I never got a huge amount to begin with, but I guess I kind of looked forward to getting what I did have... (Don't I sound pathetic?) So that's the first reason I've been tardy.

Two, is more significant. I've really wanted to blog about something, but it's been hard. Talking to a friend today gave me the courage, for her sake, so I'm gonna try it and see if that clears up this blog constipation so to speak.

Before I go on to that, quickly, a brief update on the petty argument with brother. There is nothing to report. He never called back. Further he and his wife are having some real struggles in their life (Please pray for them if you are so inclined. God will know who G and wife are) and so while I know about those problems and am praying fervently, I am not calling right now. My brother is so stressed he would view it as an attack and the last thing I would want to do is add. He knows I love him and if he needs me he'll call. That is the best part about real family, at least to me. Arguments can be petty, they don't mean anything in terms of the real relationship... I won't go into my guilt on picking the fight in light of all this though...

Now, on to the real issue.

Leaving Oz.

There is a phrase among the family, loved ones and former loved ones of people with borderline personality disorder. It is the moment we often call "Leaving Oz." This is the point when a family member, loved one or spouse decides to get off the roller coaster. For the most part it involves leaving that person. For the most part there is no half way when you have people with this disorder in your life. The most likely way to be free is to separate yourself completely. This is hard. It is not fun. There is guilt and pain and regret and doubt. Yet for many of us it is a reality.

My mom has BPD, and to say that it hasn't affected me, my brother, my father, Nana or any of the rest of the people her life has touched intimately would be a massive denial of reality. My father, after my mother left him, chose quickly to "leave oz" and has no contact with my mother except when she occasionally calls him to try to get him to be friends with her again. My brother and I have both decided that we won't give her up to this demon of sorts, but we both have our own way of trying to stay out of oz, so to speak.

My brother mostly stays emotionally detached. He talks to mom and lets her visit him, he just makes it very not personal, almost like she is simply another mission field to him. Maybe she is. He has claimed on several occasions that she isn't really his mother anymore anyway, so he is simply doing his godly duty. I doubt he really thinks that, but if this is how he copes, it seems to work for him, anyway.

Me, I used to live in Oz with Mom. It was a very scary place. I thought I would have to live there forever. I thought that saving mom meant that I had to keep riding the roller coater over and over and over until the motor died. The ups and downs were terrible. The crying, the guilt, the self accusations, the shame, all that come with this disorder. Some days I was the enemy and some days I was the savior in mom's world. That can be quite a mind trip, to say the least...

Then came the day, March 30, 2004 when I had to make the decision to take Nana into my care. I was only 28, I had just started a new job, I was living in a tiny efficiency apartment with my dog desperately trying to make ends meet after a four month spell of unemployment and Nana needed me. So I took her home with me, no warning, no plan, making it up as I went along. I realized during the ten hour drive home that I couldn't live in Oz anymore. Honestly, my plan at that time was to never speak to or see mom again. Turns out I wasn't strong enough, brave enough or emotionless enough to pull that off. I'm not sure which. It was the right decision for Dad, but it turned out it was not how it would work for me. But I did take a break... and I moved out of Oz.

That was two and a half years ago. A lot has changed, and a lot hasn't. Mom hasn't. She is still, in my opinion, the Queen of Oz, and occasionally the Wicked Witch of The West. However I realized on that terrible day that Nana asked me for my protection that I was choosing to live in that awful land and that I didn't have to and now I was responsible for someone else and she didn't need to live there anymore than I did. So now, Mom still makes me crazy and a tear or two has fallen, but for the most part I choose now when I am going to ride the roller coaster with her, mostly I just wave as she rides by. I'm not sure if I was Dorothy back then, just trying to find my way home or The Scarecrow, no brains to realize I didn't need to be there. The point is, now I am just Sandy and I live on planet earth. There is more Oxygen here, by the way.

So to my dear friend who is currently packing her bags to leave Oz, I want to say that I am so proud of you for standing up and saying "No." It is going to be harder than ever for a while. Change always is. However, I also want to tell you that there is a much more peaceful place over here. I promise that whether you decide to never set foot in Oz again or like me decide to be only an occasional visitor it can be done and there is a better life on the other side of the rainbow.

To everyone else, I would say that mental illness is not just a TV movie of the month. Many of us deal with it everyday. Some of us eventually suffer from it because we had to live with it in others for so long. Most of us don't really talk about it. We live with it too much to want to discuss it. And, a lot of us don't even realize that so much of what we thought was normal growing up, wasn't. Coming out of Oz can be rather blinding for us. Yet it is the love and support of good friends that make it possible.

Thanks guys.

Plastic...

Today was parent teacher conferences. It's a two day, half school day, half hell on earth, extravaganza of solutions, questions, excuses and promises. For the most part I present a case and then just listen.

"Hi, I', Miss X. I'm your child's English teacher, or babysitter."
"Thanks for seeing me, today, even though you had to call every number I have including my work where I was embarrassed into having to talk to you and because my boss was listening agreeing to come to this stupid meeting that is probably all your fault anyway because you are a lousy teacher who doesn't recognize the genius angel that my child is."
"No problem, it speaks well of you and your child's future that you were willing to come... Maybe you will visit them in prison too!"
"You know, my child tells me all the time how much they enjoy your class, you have the most comfortable desks for sleeping."
"Really? I didn't know they had moved beyond monosyllabic conversation"
"Oh, yes, you are one of their favorites, especially to put on their dart board."
"How nice. I'm glad to hear you say that because your child is the most obnoxious and insincere little twerp I have ever had the pleasure of working with and now having met you I can see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm glad I've met you, now I don't feel bad about this kid's failing grade anymore, I'm just sorry I didn't do it sooner!"

No, that conversation did not happen... out loud.

Seriously, I present the child's progress, record, behavior, etc. They ask a few questions, I answer, then they make excuses, I suggest solutions, they make promises and then the whole process starts over with the next group.

When my Dad used to go to parent teacher conferences he made me come with him. I was not allowed to talk until spoken to, I had to listen to every word the teacher said as they presented my record. Then my father would ask me if there was anything I wanted to add or that I disagreed with. Then the teacher and my father (this was back when parents and teachers were on the same team by the way) would tag team me into working harder, getting better grades and behaving better.

Now, I have to say a bunch of flattering things to the parent (And occasionally the child) to get them to agree to try a little harder, be a little quieter in class or a bit more respectful. It's a funny kabuki dance where I essentially end up giving parents my bottom line and from then on the kid knows exactly how far they can push and no farther. Don't I sound cynical? It's not always that bad. And sometimes it's worse.

I have a student who puts a new spin on rude. She is a beautiful girl, and smart as a whip. She will also have puppies when she gives birth some day, if you catch my drift. Seriously. Out right rude, disrespectful and malicious! Oh my. So I started with what a great mind she had, all the potential, and then I moved onto the bad grades and worse attitude. I ended by telling the mom that I was frustrated because I felt like the girl wasn't learning anything in my class and I so wanted her to be successful. The mother asked the child to leave and then burst into tears. "Our life has gone to hell, you can't understand, and so it's not her fault and I can't let you say she can't learn!" OMG! "Ma'am, I didn't say that she couldn't, I just feel like I am failing her as a teacher and I was hoping you could offer some solutions to the problems of her behavior and inability to complete assignments." More tears, more excuses. I went and got the kid back. We created a plan to help her make the work back up and succeed. Mom was so happy and appreciative. I saw the look on this kid's face. What a con job the whole thing was. Yet I'm stuck there, bound by decency to act like I buy it.

We'll see.

Petty for the sake of Petty

I picked a fight with my brother on Saturday. There was really no reason to, I had just gotten fed up with a quirk of his personality and I decided to have it out with him. I'm sure he appreciates the gesture. I have an overwhelming urge to call everyone I have ever known and justify myself, but I know that in and of itself this issue is petty. It's the larger issue behind it that is not. My father thinks my brother is upset by the argument as much as I am. I doubt it. Overall I doubt he cares about it one way or the other, which is why I picked the fight. Now, I am going to explain. You have been warned...

My brother is three years younger than I am. He likes people to think he is three years older, so when people ask who is older he always says, "there are three years between us." and people assume he's older, he's the boy after all. My brother, let's call him G, is also the over-achiever, the good student and the one everyone in the family always thinks is wonderful. Well everyone except those of us who have ever lived with him. We think he is a good guy too, I could tell some amazing stories, in fact I probably will for the sake of balance, but, he is just as flawed as the rest of us, just as arrogant (as Dad says G and I come by that honestly...) and just as stubborn as my father, my mother, for the most part my step-mother and I. We all also have self esteem issues, abandonment issues and can get pretty hot tempered (though we all have different kinds of tempers, really... that's another post.)

To start out, let me tell you the good story, for the sake of perspective and balance. When G was 12 and mom was leaving us, mom insisted on taking my comforter because it matched her sheets. At 15, oddly enough I was distraught by the whole idea. My brother, the very miserly of the two of us, went to my father and announced, "I will give mom everything in my bank account if Sandy can have her blanket back..." Sweet, isn't he? When I had to move he came down from college and helped me apartment hunt in my new town, though I had to get him his own hotel room... We couldn't share well even then... He has said some of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, though he has also said the meanest.

Now he is a minister, in Vermont. He is the head pastor of a church plant, formerly a mission. He has a congregation and lives in a pastorum. Personally, while we have some differences of opinion on peripheral theology (women's role in the church being the most significant) I consider him of great faith and wisdom.

But, there is a massive problem... (obviously, or why would I be writing?)

He is rude to family. He is self important, rude and condescending and I don't think it's OK for him to treat family that way and then turn around and preach about love, honor and family. We come to visit and he parades us around like proof of his superiority... See, he loves his family... yet he treats us like second class citizens.

The argument is about one way he expresses that rudeness. His phone.

Saturday I called him to ask a quick question.

G: Hello? (actually he said his full name, but I won't print that... But I want to be truthful so...)
Me: Hey, G.
G: This is not a good time, I'll call you later.
Me: Well, I've just got a quick question.
G: That's not appropriate. I call you later.
Me: Don't bother.

35 minutes later, he leaves a message. I didn't answer it so I could cool off.

In the message he detailed how he was in the room of a dying woman, and he listed her symptoms, condition and vitals, and that he was praying with the family. He answered the phone because he didn't recognize my number and had to be sure it wasn't an emergency.

I got a grip and called him back.

Me: I listened to your entire message, now I need you to listen to me, please.
G: OK
Me: Obviously that was a very good reason to not talk to me. Though I would say that it's odd that you don't have my number in your phone so that know it's me and just didn't answer. Which brings me to the point. Out of the past twelve times that I have called you, ten of them you said you can't talk, you'd call me back. (This is over the past several months by the way...) You make me feel like a second class citizen and I'm tired of it.
G: Ask Dad, I do it to him too.
Me: I've talked to Dad and am already aware of his opinion on the issue.
(Dad thinks it's as rude as I do by the way... but that's Dad's argument with G, not mine...)
G: Well, I'm sorry.
Me: While I appreciate the fact that you just said that, you are not sorry. You are sorry I'm upset, but you are not sorry about the behavior or you would change it.
G: I am not going to continue a conversation with someone who called me a liar. I'll talk to you another time. ~Click.

See. Petty. The thing is, he does always get off the phone when I call, he only calls me when he intends to "Pastor" me, like I'm younger, dumber and need his guidance. He doesn't return messages, sometimes for as much as a month and I'm tired of what that implies about his family.

So, my brother and I are arguing. Have no idea how long it will last. Dad essentially offered to mediate and I told him to let G and I have it out. It needs to happen.

Dad agreed.

A Moment of Silence

Fat Doctor posted today to inform us of the passing of another treasured blogger, Glorified Midwife. FD has not as of yet disclosed the details, if she even knows, but I consider Fat Doctor very reliable so I have no doubt as to the passing.

This brings lots of different questions, ideas and emotions to the surface. My initial reaction is, "but she was so young, younger than me even!" followed quickly by "and she was doing so much good in the world, she'd just gotten a kitten, finished medical school, she had things to say, people to heal, blogs to write, books to read. She wasn't finished yet!"

And then there is a part of me that envies her. I am very confidant that she has now seen God in the flesh. She is warm, and happy and at peace.

So this is a moment of silence for our dear Glorified Midwife. We remember her honesty, her humor, her desire to help others, her joy and her vigor in life. She will be missed and not forgotten. I always thought she was someone I would be friends with if I met personally, so I look forward to actually seeing her in person someday. I thank and praise God that this is the case.

This moment of silence is also for her family, friends and the lives she touched. May God keep them, bless them and comfort their hearts in this time of loss.

Rest Peacefully, Glorified Midwife.

Good Advice

Sometimes I amaze even myself with good advice. A friend was asking me this week about a girl he is considering "making a pass at." He asked my opinion. I gave it to him. I think it was one of my finer pieces of work. So I'm going to share it, recognizing that what I told him is only slightly specific to him and might be of value to others...

My advice on should he date this girl and how can you pick the right one...

The question is are you looking for Mrs. Right or Miss Right Now? Neither is a bad answer. You are only 20 and have lots of life and time left and as a guy there is no biological clock thing either...

Here's the thing. Even if you don't want to be "forever" right now, (why would you, you are only 20), the person you choose right now could easily become "forever" eventually. Or, because of things in a relationship right now you may have to deal with this person "forever," at least according to every statistic I've read... so, on what basis do you want forever to be with this girl? Friend, friend with benefits, friend with regrets, friend with your child, friend you share a medical condition with, friend forever... you get the idea.

The drinking really is a concern. Granted I know most people think I am a bit of a prude about alcohol as well as sex. Probably am, but as a teacher and daughter and former college student and medic... the alcohol thing is an issue. She may have an addictive personality, this is a problem in relationships, especially romantic and/or intimate ones. She may be an alcoholic... There are many forms on that. She may have serious emotional baggage that causes this need to be drunk... Not that these things make her bad or someone you shouldn't date, but you need to be aware of what they mean and how you plan to deal with them...

There are lots of guys I know who just look at it as, "whatever, it's no big deal" and maybe you are that guy... I personally don't think so...But God knows I've been wrong before, and it wouldn't make you a bad person.

I was actually sort of joking about the friendship margin thing. If she really is the one, you have all the time in the world, so make sure she is. It might be slightly more awkward in a month or even six, but if she's worth it who cares. I know you are worth it.

So, that is my advice, you asked for it, however.... You are 20 years old. I love you, you are my friend, and I trust you; so do whatever you think you want/need/have to do and know those three facts won't change.

The problem I have, or more specifically what I want to know is, why if I can give good advice is my own life always such a mess?

But maybe that is the comfort to all the young people out there in love and/or looking for it. No one gets it right all the time in their own life no matter how good their advice is to you. Take comfort in that...

I am Cyclops

Today is twin day for Homecoming Week. Robin (my team teacher) and I both dressed as Mountain Medics. We have on jeans, a red long sleeve shirt, my green camp scrub tops, hiking boots, stethoscopes and Robin braided our hair in two french braids down either side of our head. We are adorable if I do say so myself.

Anyway.

Again the battle is raging in my third period. They refuse to adhere to civilized, polite and respectful behavior. Today as I was answering questions about a quiz they were taking, I noticed that the majority of the class had begun chattering as I answered the question. So I declared the whole class in violation of the honor code and failed all of them on the quiz. You could have heard a pin drop. Then I had a kid say to me, "That's not fair."

God have mercy on that child's soul. I explained what fair was to him and asked him if he really wanted me to apply that standard in the class.

"No ma'am."

So I did it. They all failed the piddly little five point quiz. It was easy to grade at least. I talked to the kids that I am sure were most likely not talking privately after class. They understand and I have them set up so they can fix it quickly, quietly and simply. They actually understand and told me not to worry about it. I appreciate that, but today I feel like a huge one eyes cyclops raging through the school, for all that I was dressed today as a rustic healer.

Why can't these kids get this concept!

Oh! I knew it... Now will parents do anything about it...?

Granted, the "science" of this article is a little shaky, but it makes some valid points and I like the idea. Too many kids are raised by TV as it is...

TV during the Weekday Effects Grades Negatively

Growing up my brother and I were only allowed to watch certain shows with our parents. There wasn't a lot of TV on school nights that I can remember, as a child at least. As a teenager I know we watched more, but more often we taped it and watched on the weekend. I'm sure that there must be a cut off level. I like the parents who set a "spending limit" for TV. Kids get so many hours during the week and then that's it.

Thought I'd pass it along...

It's Monday!

So, the weekend is over and the drama with mama is finished and I for one am thankful and slightly exhausted which is the perfect place to be when I am about to (drum role please...) take the GRE!

That's right the Greatfully Ridden Elephant, no, the Giving Relaxation Examination, no, the... actually I have no idea what it stands for. Don't even care really. This is the test you have to take before going to Grad or PhD school. It's like a higher level, harder SAT or ACT. I took it before going into grad school so long ago, but the score is only good five years, so here I go again.

The test is on Wednesday morning in Downtown Atlanta! So, I have decided to stay at a hotel five minutes from the testing center and just walk over in the morning rather than make myself crazy with traffic, parking and directions right before I take the test. I'm actually looking forward to the idea of a little decadence before the test. Long Bubble bath (where I don't have to clean the tub, and maybe I might actually fit in the tub...) cable movie with no Nana babble or close captioning (that covers up the picture sometimes!) and breakfast delivered to me. I'd actually even get to sleep in about thirty minutes and the short brisk walk before the test would do me good... better than an hour in traffic anyway.

So there is that to look forward to. Also I am starting the countdown to my trip to Frisco for vacation. I will be visiting with my dear high school journalism teacher, second mom and dear friend. I may also get to dine with my senior English teacher, my template so to speak, and my math/physics teacher. That man is a real card. Plus the coastal, bay air and the views... Yep, counting down!

Happy Monday!

Matricide

I'm going to admit something pretty horrible here. Sometimes I'd really love to just, at least, pop my mom one. You know?

Every time I think I've reached her. Every time I think maybe I get her, she turns around and makes me wrong. It hurts in ways I can't begin to describe. I wrote to a friend today:

Oh, the overwhelming desire to have the mom we dreamed of. The supportive, honest, wholesome mom who makes us feel good about ourselves and lifts us up before God. The Mom who other girls want for their mom's, but who is both a mom and a friend. The mom with morals and a sense of humor and perspective. It's hard, because she does exist. They are out there, right? I've met them. Only when I talk to their real daughters it's never that simple... but their moms are still better than mine... I think. Why can't my mom be like my Dad? He's so perfect at this... Now. But then that's good because for all my mom's faults and problems, when I sit down and "chronicle" the destruction of my self esteem as a child, Dad is just as big a factor as mom, sometimes bigger... So even his current "perfection" came at a terrible price.

So maybe all moms are awful. No, they can't be, because as I said, I've met the good ones. They are still human, still flawed, but they are good. They are a blessing to watch. I'd like to believe that my Nana was too. A good mom. Can't tell by her children though. How is that fair?

It really is a toss-up between being angry at her for making me feel like this and angry at myself for letting her make me feel this way. Every time I think I've got this nonsense licked... Here we go again.

This is why I am not married. This is why I won't have children. What if I'm just like her. Even if I'm not, why would I bring some one else (And then children) into this mess! Mental illness is really and truly the gift that keeps on giving...

Obviously I would be sad, hurt, devastated if my mom was gone and yet I've started dreaming about what my life would be like without her. Then I feel awful for the thought. I actually dared her to go ahead and kill herself once. I was so tired of the threats and the manipulation. Her therapist called me and asked that I not help like that in the future. I was 24 at the time. It was my first year teaching. I was wearing a heart monitor because we were trying to figure out if I had MVP and mom was more interested in having the world focused on her... I guess I lost my temper.

When I was in high school I wrote a poem about mom. When I read it you could have heard a pin drop. There were jaws open all over the room.

But the word truth has no meaning.
Past her lips the promise dies,
leaving me alone in heartache
because I believed her lies.

It's the most depressing and dark poetry I've ever written.

The worst part about this is that I love my mom so much. More than anything I wanted us to be close. When I was little, my Dad was my hero, but my mom was my example, my template and my best friend. She could build, fix or make anything. She tiled floors, painted the house, made crepes and home made pasta, created paper mache' works of art, knew where the best flowers were, could make dresses and dolls, she went to nursing school, grade school, nurse practitioner at one of the best medical schools in the nation. Who wouldn't want to be like her?

So tonight, I'm just angry and hurting and maybe even a bit broken.

I'll be fine tomorrow. I always am. I am my mother's daughter and I'll live. I just wish I could be more my father's daughter and learn to quit this.

Hubris and Hospitality

We are studying the Odyssey in class. Odysseus' journey home after the Trojan war. As a big classical mythology buff, it is always fun to teach. Additionally I do a Greek Culture Day and bring hummus, lahbni, muhanna, tabouli, pita, feta and other stuff like it to school. Most of my kids would not be exposed to some of this otherwise and many like it and go looking for cultural experiences afterward on their own because of it. That is not the point of this post, though, by the way...

The two major issues in the Odyssey are Hospitality and Hubris.

Hubris is a form of arrogance, usually against the gods, though for this class I extend that definition to any kind of arrogance where someone thinks they know better than everyone else. Hospitality is a code of conduct in Greek tradition, where there are rules about how to treat guests. Most of the problems or trials in the Odyssey come down to an issue of either Hubris or Hospitality.

Yet, I was thinking that most of the problems/situations/issues in my life come down to an issue of Hubris or Hospitality. Let me show you.

Parents refuse to believe that their children are not perfect or that they as parents may not be doing the best job. This is Hubris.

Parent's feel that I should do more work than they do on their children. This is an issue with Hospitality.

My mother thinks I should trust her, even though she has hurt me, lied to me and attempted numerous times to manipulate me. Her bad behavior is a lack of hospitality, her assumption is Hubris.

Nana needed help, needed someone to take care of her, so I did. I showed Hospitality. When I get snappish with her I am showing a lack of Hospitality.

When I don't take care of my body, eat too much, not exercise enough, that is a lack of hospitality for my body and when I get angry because my body doesn't do what I want or look the way I want because of that lack, that is Hubris...

I'm sure you can see the pattern here, so I'll stop before I start splattering the blood of the dead horse all over the place.

It is just so interesting to me that the issues of life really haven't changed all that much. We are all living in the same house, only the paint on the walls has changed. The structure of life hasn't. For whatever reason, today I find that oddly comforting.

Other people may simply find me odd... Is that Hubris or a Hospitality issue? (giggle)

Being a case example

Poor Daddy. I called him up to vent today. It was a good day, but there was this one niggling issue at the base of my brain and I needed to talk to someone who understood. For the most part, on this issue, only Dad fits the bill.

See, my mom makes me crazy. I think I've mentioned that before, but maybe not. For the most part I don't talk lots about her and my issues with her because my biggest goal with Mom is to simply love her, not let her issues be my issues or let them get to me and to do that I feel like I need to just let stuff go. Blogging is dealing with, but not always letting it go, so I haven't, mostly. Though I know I can.

The details on this particular escapade I'll leave out. They are irrelevant anyway. The point was, it happened again. Even on a great day. Lots of pie, some good flirtation, good lesson in class, and I'm ticked at mom.

So I called Dad. Poor Daddy... But he listened, he understood and he let me vent. Then he laughed with me (not at me, big difference) at the absurdity and we talked about other stuff and then we came back to the point. This is what he said.

Say there is a movie theatre, and the movies there are great, the ones you really enjoy, but the air conditioner is on overdrive and it's freezing. You have three choices, stop going to the movie, go and freeze, which effects the enjoyment or accept the temperature, start taking a jacket and enjoy the movie.

The funny part is that Dad is teaching divorce recovery workshop tonight and the lesson is about relationships with ex-spouses. Dad and I were laughing because this is case in point. My parents aren't married anymore, they don't even talk (his choice and I am thankful for it) and yet because of their children they still have a relationship.

Thanks, Dad. Glad I could be your example this week. Glad you are my friend and my father every week.

Over it and Through it.

So yesterday I was a bit pouty, and today I am taking the day off, but I'm over my temper tantrum, Thanks.

Last night I talked for an hour with a dear friend. She's over something too. She is at that critical time where she decides what she will accept, not accept and put up with in her life.

There are things we accept from other people. We may not agree with them, or like it, but in the grand scheme of things we simply accept it and don't worry about it.

There are things we put up with. These are things that do bother us and we disagree with and we are honest and up front about that, but we put up with it anyway.

Then there are the things we do not accept. These are defining issues in relationships. When we make these decisions, they should not be taken lightly.

It would be so easy to tell my friend what I think she should do, but these are her decisions. So today all I can offer her is my shoulder, my heart and my prayers, and my faith in her as a good person who is doing the best she can. She will get through it.

Frustration Station

OK, now I’m getting mad.

The weight around my middle is not coming off particularly fast, particularly at all. Thighs, great, I could rival a horse for muscle mass. Arms, ugly, flesh hanging, but tightening up underneath. Great! Middle? Flabby awful gross! Scale, no change I can see...

Granted my diet hasn’t been perfect this past two weeks, but much, much better over all, not that it was bad to begin with. Then when I was talking to one of the new trainers at my gym about it, and how I was concerned that maybe I had a problem with inflammation, she pointed out that maybe I wasn’t eating enough (not enough, too much, not enough, too much, dwarf planet, dwarf, planet, daughter, sister, daughter, sister... I may be sick!) and my body was in starvation. She said that considering the calorie burn I was accomplishing on my workouts (1000-2000 calories 3 to 5 times a week) that was a real possibility.

Then there is the whole sleep thing. Apparently I’m not getting enough and that is making me fat.

I’m willing to take time, but not forever. Why can’t this be simple?

Then I have these doctors who hold up a chart and say I should weight “this” to be healthy. These people are nuts. I am not now, nor have I ever been a chart. There are not enough women my size and dimensions for these people to have enough data to chart.

Mostly, I’d like this to be simple, straightforward and, I don’t know, possible. Today it seems impossible.

Maybe I’m just meant to be fat.

This is too hard.

Overheard... As in heard overly much...

On Friday I was walking down the middle school portion of our building. Five girls were in a giggling gaggle behind me and I overheard one of them whisper to the other, very loudly I might add, "She's a GIANT!"

For whatever reason, I'd had enough so I spun around and answered, "No she's not, but she is a TEACHER!" Then I explained to the girls that their behavior was very rude and unbecoming of ladies. Then I left them in the hallway, speechless.

I actually feel a little guilty about the whole mess. They were rude, but I doubt they understand why I got mad at them or if they do, I doubt they care. Girls really are brutal and that's just all there is to it. There is no doubt in my mind they knew I could hear them.

Here we go again

Last night I was on the phone with Mark, the Dining Hall Director from Camp, for an hour and a half. Here we go again.

This past weekend was an Order of the Arrow function. This is an honor society group associated with Boy Scouts. It's a smaller more dedicated group, and there are as many adult members as boys. Bunch of gossipy old women if you ask me. Goodness Gracious! Mark called full of all sorts of stories about backstabbing, conspiracies, coups and rumors. The stuff these people come up with. Also the way things get spread out over time. Problems that were in effect all summer are just now being discussed. Who will be in charge and how it's going to be next summer are all big topics of conversation. This is funny to me as we are nearly eight months away from camp. I mean I'm all for planning, but a lot changes for a lot of these boys around X-mas time and then we have to rework the whole system over again anyway.

Further, the different perspectives on the same issue are always amusing. It ranges from "These boys are examples and should be held to the highest standards" to "Boys will be boys" to "That's what we did when we were in camp" to "That's just camp..." Everyone's got an opinion and a "solution."

Like I said, here we go again.

Mostly I guess I find it disheartening that so little actually changes because of these discussions. Mostly it's just wind. And a lot of posturing.

Mark often tells me about how he's quit or so and so has said that they aren't gonna take this anymore or (and this is my favorite) how so and so put so and so in his place. High Drama!

Then there are also the complaints, "Sandy made medlodge a social hang-out!" "Mark is not customer friendly!" "There were too many people in this area and not enough in this one." "This department was run poorly!" "We should have had this instead of this..." Nothing in terms of constructive mind you, just putting down, insulting complaints.

Sometimes I wish I was in OA. I do a lot of work for the scouts and would like the recognition, but after just an hour of Mark's summary I'm pretty sick of the whole group, I can't imagine a whole weekend. I'm not clear what this whole process has to do with service anyway...

Here we go again.

Horse and Pie

Things are getting a bit wacky at school this week. We are raising money for The United Way. Teachers are involved in donation drives and such, but the students are as well. This year for the ninth grade we are having a penny war to determine two teachers who will get a pie in the face at the 9th Grade Pep-Rally next week. The teacher with the most money get's pie-d as does the teacher with the least. The Assistant Principal is one of the 14 staff who threw her name into the hat as those willing to be part of the competition. So am I. I am also running the drive.

The problem is one teacher (not me) has kidnapped the Assistant Principal's stuff horse and is holding it for ransom. The ransom, once paid will be put in the kidnappers can toward their total. The Assistant Principal thinks I did it. This is a problem as she keeps randomly searching my room to see if she can find the little bound and blind-folded horse. Now the kidnapper is sending her pictures of the horse with a pair of scissors pointed at it.

All of this is in good fun and thankfully The Assistant Principal has a sense of humor. Everyone here has a sense of humor and the jokes are starting to get slightly wild and crazy. I just wish I could convince this woman that it wasn't me!