Today one of my dearest friends dropped in for a visit. We had ten glorious hours after she attended another friend's wedding and before she had to catch her plane home. We used to be able to visit each other more often, and we are making a real effort to take a trip together to London that we have been planning for over a year, but our visits get shorter and farther between each year. I guess that's growing up. She is an optometrist (and a really good one!) in Miami. (Anyone live there? I can so refer you, she rocks!)
Anyway, after taking Nana with us to lunch at a really cool German restaurant, (Friend is actually from Poland, so a real treat for her too), she and I went off to get pedicures. We sat, our feet being so lovingly tended and talked about boys, work, boys, roommates, boys, gossiped about mutal friends (who was pregnant, who was engaged, who was going back to school, who had changed since we knew them...) and who would be in our weddings.
Now understand neither of us is engaged, neither is even seriously dating anyone. There aren't even any men to realistically consider. Yet we were mapping out preferences, bridal courts and venues. The really sweet ladies at the nail place (I've been going there for three years, the last two with Nana... If you live near Atlanta I can so refer them, they rock too!) got very confused. One asked me quietly, when my friend and I were being moved to drying stations, if I was getting married. She looked very confused when I said no.
I imagine the wedding my friend had just been to, and our current crushes (girls can dream, right) were the reason, but it was strange all the same.
The most significant conclusion that we both reached was that weddings are way too complicated and people get way too bent out of joint with who is and isn't in the bridal party, wedding party and part of the wedding. Which is funny when you juxtapose that against how many people get irritated once they are in any of those groups.
Nothing profound to add, past that, except to say I had a great time, my feet look and feel great and I miss my friend, who only left an hour ago, already.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Taming of The Shrew
As a teacher I learned early on to separate my personal feelings from my public reactions in the classroom. Often teachers may raise their voice, smile or lecture without any actual personal emotion. The students perceive anger, disappointment, excitement or enthusiasm where there is actually nothing, or much less than what is presented. It is a necessary skill. For a couple of reasons really. One is that if I really had that much emotion running amok in my classroom all the time I would pass out. Two is that no matter how angry the child may perceive you as being you are always completely in control of yourself and being in control of yourself as a teacher is critical to professional and personal survival. But here is the problem.
It also gives you the ability to stand back and look at yourself as you encourage or correct a student. This time of year, when the corrections are more frequent than the encouragements, it is easy to really start to dislike yourself as a teacher. Intellectually I know I have to be consistent and firm with my students. This builds discipline and character. Emotionally I feel like a witch from the seventh circle of hell. It's always the same kids at this point too. If I give up on them they don't learn and fail. If I keep after them I feel like a jerk and they will still probably fail anyway. For that 1% success rate I am currently trashing my self esteem to get them through school.
That's why I make the big bucks....
(I'm not actually depressed, this happens every year and is no fun, but I have perspective, I'm just saying...)
20 Days and counting.
It also gives you the ability to stand back and look at yourself as you encourage or correct a student. This time of year, when the corrections are more frequent than the encouragements, it is easy to really start to dislike yourself as a teacher. Intellectually I know I have to be consistent and firm with my students. This builds discipline and character. Emotionally I feel like a witch from the seventh circle of hell. It's always the same kids at this point too. If I give up on them they don't learn and fail. If I keep after them I feel like a jerk and they will still probably fail anyway. For that 1% success rate I am currently trashing my self esteem to get them through school.
That's why I make the big bucks....
(I'm not actually depressed, this happens every year and is no fun, but I have perspective, I'm just saying...)
20 Days and counting.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Affirmation
Yesterday I had a doctors appointment. Standard routine stuff. The boy scout camp where I work in the summer as the medic requires that I have a clean bill of health before camp starts. This will be my fourth summer at camp. Sometimes it makes me a feel a bit like a dog getting a health certificate to be allowed on a plane, but on the whole no big deal. Also I think I'm developing a problem with acid reflux or esophogeal spasms and wanted to have that checked before we had a serious problem.
Lastly, Nana and I share doctors and I wanted to have a chance to discuss hip replacement and Nana's options with the physician while Nana wasn't with us so that I could get all my questions answered. Nana being a former nurse and 82 already seems to know so much about this stuff and mostly she talks at her doctor appointments and often, now I am not even with her, Lindsey is, so, I wanted some time for me to get answers.
Our doctor is wonderful. She's from India and very friendly. The nurses are always very sweet to us too, they often fight over who gets to write up my or Nana's chart because apparently we are funny to listen to.
Anyway, I was reading an article in SELF about a girl my age raising both her grandmother and her toddler daughter. It was about the issues she deals with as acare giver and also finding her own life as a young mother. I'm not a mother, but I got it. Then in the doc's office discussing Nana I found myself crying. I see that I am often afraid I'm not doing enough or that she could be slipping and I don't see it and I'm worried about going to camp and her being okay with me as a remote caretaker, even though we've done this twice before already.
The doc let me cry, she squeezed my arm and told me the truth. Nana is doing very well, she is healthy, happy, lucid and well cared for and I am doing a good job.
Today I am thankful for the affirmation and the strength to believe what she told me. I am thankful for a good doctor who cares enough to let me cry, to be honest with me, to let me ask questions, and who gave me affirmation that my mother should have last week.
(On a note, my Dad did make me feel better, and he said a lot of similar things, but he's my dad and he doesn't take care of and see Nana regularly like the doc does. I was harboring a lot of concern after Nana fell on Friday, even though I had convinced myself I was okay. The article really brought all the stuff I wasn't saying out, luckily just in time for my appointment.)
Lastly, Nana and I share doctors and I wanted to have a chance to discuss hip replacement and Nana's options with the physician while Nana wasn't with us so that I could get all my questions answered. Nana being a former nurse and 82 already seems to know so much about this stuff and mostly she talks at her doctor appointments and often, now I am not even with her, Lindsey is, so, I wanted some time for me to get answers.
Our doctor is wonderful. She's from India and very friendly. The nurses are always very sweet to us too, they often fight over who gets to write up my or Nana's chart because apparently we are funny to listen to.
Anyway, I was reading an article in SELF about a girl my age raising both her grandmother and her toddler daughter. It was about the issues she deals with as acare giver and also finding her own life as a young mother. I'm not a mother, but I got it. Then in the doc's office discussing Nana I found myself crying. I see that I am often afraid I'm not doing enough or that she could be slipping and I don't see it and I'm worried about going to camp and her being okay with me as a remote caretaker, even though we've done this twice before already.
The doc let me cry, she squeezed my arm and told me the truth. Nana is doing very well, she is healthy, happy, lucid and well cared for and I am doing a good job.
Today I am thankful for the affirmation and the strength to believe what she told me. I am thankful for a good doctor who cares enough to let me cry, to be honest with me, to let me ask questions, and who gave me affirmation that my mother should have last week.
(On a note, my Dad did make me feel better, and he said a lot of similar things, but he's my dad and he doesn't take care of and see Nana regularly like the doc does. I was harboring a lot of concern after Nana fell on Friday, even though I had convinced myself I was okay. The article really brought all the stuff I wasn't saying out, luckily just in time for my appointment.)
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
What have you done for me lately?
For the past several years I have been part of an internet match up service. I started as a dare, and have continued because it makes me feel like I am least keeping my heart open to the possibility of marriage, though I am very happy (and busy) as a single person and will happily continue as such until God makes some very specific gestures that I should be otherwise. Anyway, part of this match up process is utilizing multiple choice questions to get to know each other. Each person gets to pick five questions to be answered by the prospective candidate from a list of about 60. There is one question that automatically tells me this is not a person I am going to be compatible with.
The question is, "If I was having a bad day, what would you do to make me feel better?" Then there are four possibilities including back rub, nice dinner, ignoring the problem or talking about it. You can also write in an answer. This is the problem I have with the question, actually there are several problems.
Most importantly, what I would do would have a lot to do with who that person was, what the problem was, what our relationship was like and what that person needed most at that specific time. How can I know that from a little computer profile and a couple pictures?
Secondly, while it is true that we need to look for partners who will support us, I find it a rather presumptuous question. Most men would be offended, I imagine, if one of my initial questions was "If we were to marry, what size diamond would you buy for my engagement?"
As much as I do think it is a good web service and have decided to continue to work with them, for the past three years in fact, that questions continues to bug me every time I get it. Thankfully it is not very popular, but it has happened at time or two, and did this week. It just seems so sad that this would be a way people would judge a partners suitability.
The question is, "If I was having a bad day, what would you do to make me feel better?" Then there are four possibilities including back rub, nice dinner, ignoring the problem or talking about it. You can also write in an answer. This is the problem I have with the question, actually there are several problems.
Most importantly, what I would do would have a lot to do with who that person was, what the problem was, what our relationship was like and what that person needed most at that specific time. How can I know that from a little computer profile and a couple pictures?
Secondly, while it is true that we need to look for partners who will support us, I find it a rather presumptuous question. Most men would be offended, I imagine, if one of my initial questions was "If we were to marry, what size diamond would you buy for my engagement?"
As much as I do think it is a good web service and have decided to continue to work with them, for the past three years in fact, that questions continues to bug me every time I get it. Thankfully it is not very popular, but it has happened at time or two, and did this week. It just seems so sad that this would be a way people would judge a partners suitability.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Ding Dong!
This year our high school had to move the 9th grade academy to the old high school (now a middle school) because of building space. This will be our new home for the next three, maybe four years, though we were originally promised only two. Anyway.
When we set up this situation, we were told that while we were part of the high school, we would be in the middle school building and that we would be treated, represented and included as part of the high school. OK.
The problem is 1) Out of Sight Out of Mind and 2) the Middle School Principal really didn't want us here.
The first issue was going to happen and most of us are okay with that in terms of how the high school views us. The second issue is a real problem. This principal made one agreement with the superintendent at the initial meeting between principals and then when she got back to her building instituted her own policies and 9th grade be damned.
Meanwhile the middle school staff has been very friendly, very welcoming as much as possible outside of what the principal expressly forbid (we can't use their library, staff water cooler or administrator's private bathroom). Many of us have even struck up some really close friendships and good professional relationships.
The principal remained an irritation. Her assistant principal (one of two) was wonderful. She worked well with those of us in 9th too. The principal found a way to get her fired last week. For many of us that was the last straw.
Apparently it was for the Board of Education too. They had already decided she wouldn't be here next year, but now for the last six weeks they have pulled her as well (This is a professional disgrace, there was no going away party and she cleaned out her office on Sunday when no one was here to watch). Our 9th Grade Assistant principal (that all of us, on both sides, adore) has been put over both groups. We are announcing it today in a quick meeting. Many of us are bringing cakes and other refreshments. The only thing missing is the munchkin music from the Wizard of Oz. That's okay, we are all singing it in our hearts.
It is sad to me though. To have worked your way up through administration and then be so incompetent that your people are literally celebrating your downfall. I'd like to believe that could never happen to me, that I would see where and when I was screwing up and fix it rather than thunder on blindly and alienate my entire staff and the staff next door (we are talking close to 200 people). Then again, I bet she never thought this would happen to her.
The point is, a cloud has lifted over our school and I can hear the music though the halls.
Ding, Dong, the witch is dead!
When we set up this situation, we were told that while we were part of the high school, we would be in the middle school building and that we would be treated, represented and included as part of the high school. OK.
The problem is 1) Out of Sight Out of Mind and 2) the Middle School Principal really didn't want us here.
The first issue was going to happen and most of us are okay with that in terms of how the high school views us. The second issue is a real problem. This principal made one agreement with the superintendent at the initial meeting between principals and then when she got back to her building instituted her own policies and 9th grade be damned.
Meanwhile the middle school staff has been very friendly, very welcoming as much as possible outside of what the principal expressly forbid (we can't use their library, staff water cooler or administrator's private bathroom). Many of us have even struck up some really close friendships and good professional relationships.
The principal remained an irritation. Her assistant principal (one of two) was wonderful. She worked well with those of us in 9th too. The principal found a way to get her fired last week. For many of us that was the last straw.
Apparently it was for the Board of Education too. They had already decided she wouldn't be here next year, but now for the last six weeks they have pulled her as well (This is a professional disgrace, there was no going away party and she cleaned out her office on Sunday when no one was here to watch). Our 9th Grade Assistant principal (that all of us, on both sides, adore) has been put over both groups. We are announcing it today in a quick meeting. Many of us are bringing cakes and other refreshments. The only thing missing is the munchkin music from the Wizard of Oz. That's okay, we are all singing it in our hearts.
It is sad to me though. To have worked your way up through administration and then be so incompetent that your people are literally celebrating your downfall. I'd like to believe that could never happen to me, that I would see where and when I was screwing up and fix it rather than thunder on blindly and alienate my entire staff and the staff next door (we are talking close to 200 people). Then again, I bet she never thought this would happen to her.
The point is, a cloud has lifted over our school and I can hear the music though the halls.
Ding, Dong, the witch is dead!
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Thanks for your support
Last evening was awful. I left my phone on the coffee table that morning so I was without my phone all day. When I got home, after being pummelled for 2.5 hours with my trainer I immediately noticed something wrong. Suddenly Nana's eyes matched. They were both purple. She jumped right in to explain.
"I blew a fuse or something and all the lights were out and I knew Lindsey was coming to take me to get my hair done and I didn't want to wait to find the flashlight so I raced to the bathroom in the dark and tripped over the bathroom rug and fell against the shower. But I'm okay now."
I think she actually got this out in one breath. I was mortified. She's okay. Nana is just fine, really, and the shiner adds semestry to the other one from the surgery. She was afraid I'd be angry. I was.
At me.
How could I have let this happen. This was completely my fault. I should have been home. She should have been with me. I should have an emergency light in the bathroom. I should be taken out back and shot for letting this happen to a sweet old lady who never hurt anyone. Obviously I can't take my summer job at camp in June and July, I may even have to quit my job. This just proved what a terrible job I'm doing.
So I called Mom to tell her that it had happened. Mother was eating at a friend's house and didn't have time to talk, except to say,
"The bathroom was an accident waiting to happen. I fell in it the first time I visited. I'm surprised something didn't happen sooner."
Then she hung up.
Now I felt worse.
Except, the reason Nana fell had nothing to do with the bathrooms' construct (it has a slight step in it next to the shower and the shower is a tub, so you have to step up on top of that. I've been in the process of having the shower shell changed, but it hasn't happened yet and I would also add in two years, Nana and I have never had a problem, course we are not morbidly obese like Mom and have better knees.)
I told Nana, who was saying over and over again, "Don't worry, I won't joke about abuse anymore!" that I was going to pick up dinner. Then I got in the van and called Dad. I told him everything and what a failure I was. I offered to call DFAS for him and resign as a human being.
Dad let me cry, and then pointed out that the only person who did anything wrong was my mother. Even Nana only made the mistake of being human and being in a hurry. She has fallen less while she has lived with me than she did on her own and living with my mom. People fall down. Especially in the dark with no flashlight and no cane when they are supposed to use them for a reason. Then my Dad told me about the fact that when I was little I fell down and hurt myself a lot and that didn't mean he and my mother stopped letting me walk, play, swim, ride bikes, roller skate or anything else we do in life. Nor was it their fault those things happened. With his words and support he hugged me, blew on my heart until it felt better and then set me back on my feet so that I could get on with the business of caring for Nana.
My Mom is not a bad person. I love my mother. It was right that I call and let her know that while it was not serious and she was okay, that Nana had fallen. I just wish she hadn't spoken during the conversation.
Nana is fine. She is more embarrassed than anything. Her eye is a little swollen and bruised, and her glasses got bent. Luckily, Lindsey arrived not ten minutes later, and Nana was waiting for her at the door (she had gotten up, dusted herself off and gotten to the door as she was afraid they would be late for her hair appointment.) She has promised to use her cane more religiously in the future and if this were to happen again use a flashlight. Lindsey righted the circuit board and took Nana for her appointment. They were on time. Even though I didn't have my phone they hadn't even called me, they didn't think it was that serious. Twenty four hours later I can see how right my father was and I am so thankful he was home on a Friday night to talk to his daughter. I wish Mom had been more busy.
I am going to put an emergency light in the bathroom. It is a good idea. I found one at Home Depot today.
"I blew a fuse or something and all the lights were out and I knew Lindsey was coming to take me to get my hair done and I didn't want to wait to find the flashlight so I raced to the bathroom in the dark and tripped over the bathroom rug and fell against the shower. But I'm okay now."
I think she actually got this out in one breath. I was mortified. She's okay. Nana is just fine, really, and the shiner adds semestry to the other one from the surgery. She was afraid I'd be angry. I was.
At me.
How could I have let this happen. This was completely my fault. I should have been home. She should have been with me. I should have an emergency light in the bathroom. I should be taken out back and shot for letting this happen to a sweet old lady who never hurt anyone. Obviously I can't take my summer job at camp in June and July, I may even have to quit my job. This just proved what a terrible job I'm doing.
So I called Mom to tell her that it had happened. Mother was eating at a friend's house and didn't have time to talk, except to say,
"The bathroom was an accident waiting to happen. I fell in it the first time I visited. I'm surprised something didn't happen sooner."
Then she hung up.
Now I felt worse.
Except, the reason Nana fell had nothing to do with the bathrooms' construct (it has a slight step in it next to the shower and the shower is a tub, so you have to step up on top of that. I've been in the process of having the shower shell changed, but it hasn't happened yet and I would also add in two years, Nana and I have never had a problem, course we are not morbidly obese like Mom and have better knees.)
I told Nana, who was saying over and over again, "Don't worry, I won't joke about abuse anymore!" that I was going to pick up dinner. Then I got in the van and called Dad. I told him everything and what a failure I was. I offered to call DFAS for him and resign as a human being.
Dad let me cry, and then pointed out that the only person who did anything wrong was my mother. Even Nana only made the mistake of being human and being in a hurry. She has fallen less while she has lived with me than she did on her own and living with my mom. People fall down. Especially in the dark with no flashlight and no cane when they are supposed to use them for a reason. Then my Dad told me about the fact that when I was little I fell down and hurt myself a lot and that didn't mean he and my mother stopped letting me walk, play, swim, ride bikes, roller skate or anything else we do in life. Nor was it their fault those things happened. With his words and support he hugged me, blew on my heart until it felt better and then set me back on my feet so that I could get on with the business of caring for Nana.
My Mom is not a bad person. I love my mother. It was right that I call and let her know that while it was not serious and she was okay, that Nana had fallen. I just wish she hadn't spoken during the conversation.
Nana is fine. She is more embarrassed than anything. Her eye is a little swollen and bruised, and her glasses got bent. Luckily, Lindsey arrived not ten minutes later, and Nana was waiting for her at the door (she had gotten up, dusted herself off and gotten to the door as she was afraid they would be late for her hair appointment.) She has promised to use her cane more religiously in the future and if this were to happen again use a flashlight. Lindsey righted the circuit board and took Nana for her appointment. They were on time. Even though I didn't have my phone they hadn't even called me, they didn't think it was that serious. Twenty four hours later I can see how right my father was and I am so thankful he was home on a Friday night to talk to his daughter. I wish Mom had been more busy.
I am going to put an emergency light in the bathroom. It is a good idea. I found one at Home Depot today.
Friday, April 21, 2006
The Logic of school
There is something amazing about a way a child/middleschooler/teen/miniature human brain works. This time of year (school is ending in a bit over a month) the really weird logic emerges. Yet each year, the same logic occurs across grade levels across schools, you'd think they'd figure it out. The first leap is
1) All of my teachers are against me, none of them like me, and I can't help it. It just isn't fair.
While I have met a few kids who meet this possibility (and I would point out they are all now in jail or rapidly on their way...) most teachers can't remember what happened two hours ago much less yesterday and therefore the only way we can currently dislike you is if you remind us, or better, give us a current reason to resent your presence in our room. Further, if you find that you have been going though your whole life with everyone against you, maybe, and it's a long shot, I know, but maybe, it's well, YOU!
2) I am failing this class because my teacher doesn't like me.
That's right. Because I don't like you I am not collecting your homework, not letting you take the test and not sending your mother all your assignments on e-mail. It is all me. The zeros on your homework and the failing score on your multiple choice tests are all results of my heinous scheme to fail you so I can have you again next year. That's how much I hate you.
3) I don't like you, so I am not going to do my homework and fail this class to punish you.
Oh, please forgive me. Because you won't do your work I now have one less paper to grade and can get to bed earlier tonight. I have one less grade to calculate (zeros are easy to add and divide, don't ya' know) and I will spend many sleepless nights considering you this summer while you are in summer school. Oh please, don't do this to me! You are too cruel. End this torture! Did I mention my only consolation to this cruelty is that I will at least get another crack at you next year? Because I love having you and your terrific attitude in class.
Don't I sound like the wicked witch of the west? I actually got to the point where I gave "The Speech" today. Now understand, I do feel a bit of guilt when I give "The Speech" but I also feel a bit of pride. Student teachers often ask if they can come to my room on the hope of hearing, "The Speech" as it has become a paragon of teacher toughness to be desired by every new teacher out to make a name for herself. No, actually, I am not making this up. Speeches of any kind are something I do well. I can't play sports to save my life, but I can whip a team into frenzy. If there was an Olympic Speech category, I would so be gold. I have several patent pending speeches, but "The Speech" is the only one that gets to be capitalized and quoted like that. Here is an excerpt.
"Oh please, punish me by failing my class! Please, please please! I do less work because you do no work and you fail my class. But let me make sure you understand what that means. On the last day of this semester I will figure, write and record all the grades for this class, including your F. I will not have given you that grade, you will have earned it and I will only have had the privledge of writing down the letter for posterity. Then I will turn off the computer, lock this door, go home and never give you a second thought. You however will think about me every day for 180 days while you take this class over. You think this stuff is boring this time around, try it twice. And every time you are bored, every time you hate that remedial class for students who already failed it once before, every time you have to watch your friends go to the new exciting class for their grade level, you will be thinking about me and how you made me sorry by failing my class. Which is funny seeing as I will have by then forgotten that you exist. So by all means, punish me. If you work hard enough at it, maybe I can live forever!"
Now before you think I am really cruel, though maybe I am, I have a personal policy about children who are trying but failing or children who are disabled. My policy is I never have a battle of wits with unarmed opponents. This speech is for the children who are spiteful, disrupted and a waste of God given ability. While I have lectured a child until they cry (like when they put a friends finger in the pencil sharpener as a joke when they were trying to read!) this speech has never evoked tears, because the kids I've said it to weren't listening to me anyway, which is kind of the point. Mostly it's for the benefit of the kids around them who I don't want to get any ideas.
Anyway, I'm glad it's Friday and I can start on the "not giving it a second thought" part of the threat. My trainer calls and I'm sure he can inflict enough pain that it will be days before I can remember my own name much less this kid's!
1) All of my teachers are against me, none of them like me, and I can't help it. It just isn't fair.
While I have met a few kids who meet this possibility (and I would point out they are all now in jail or rapidly on their way...) most teachers can't remember what happened two hours ago much less yesterday and therefore the only way we can currently dislike you is if you remind us, or better, give us a current reason to resent your presence in our room. Further, if you find that you have been going though your whole life with everyone against you, maybe, and it's a long shot, I know, but maybe, it's well, YOU!
2) I am failing this class because my teacher doesn't like me.
That's right. Because I don't like you I am not collecting your homework, not letting you take the test and not sending your mother all your assignments on e-mail. It is all me. The zeros on your homework and the failing score on your multiple choice tests are all results of my heinous scheme to fail you so I can have you again next year. That's how much I hate you.
3) I don't like you, so I am not going to do my homework and fail this class to punish you.
Oh, please forgive me. Because you won't do your work I now have one less paper to grade and can get to bed earlier tonight. I have one less grade to calculate (zeros are easy to add and divide, don't ya' know) and I will spend many sleepless nights considering you this summer while you are in summer school. Oh please, don't do this to me! You are too cruel. End this torture! Did I mention my only consolation to this cruelty is that I will at least get another crack at you next year? Because I love having you and your terrific attitude in class.
Don't I sound like the wicked witch of the west? I actually got to the point where I gave "The Speech" today. Now understand, I do feel a bit of guilt when I give "The Speech" but I also feel a bit of pride. Student teachers often ask if they can come to my room on the hope of hearing, "The Speech" as it has become a paragon of teacher toughness to be desired by every new teacher out to make a name for herself. No, actually, I am not making this up. Speeches of any kind are something I do well. I can't play sports to save my life, but I can whip a team into frenzy. If there was an Olympic Speech category, I would so be gold. I have several patent pending speeches, but "The Speech" is the only one that gets to be capitalized and quoted like that. Here is an excerpt.
"Oh please, punish me by failing my class! Please, please please! I do less work because you do no work and you fail my class. But let me make sure you understand what that means. On the last day of this semester I will figure, write and record all the grades for this class, including your F. I will not have given you that grade, you will have earned it and I will only have had the privledge of writing down the letter for posterity. Then I will turn off the computer, lock this door, go home and never give you a second thought. You however will think about me every day for 180 days while you take this class over. You think this stuff is boring this time around, try it twice. And every time you are bored, every time you hate that remedial class for students who already failed it once before, every time you have to watch your friends go to the new exciting class for their grade level, you will be thinking about me and how you made me sorry by failing my class. Which is funny seeing as I will have by then forgotten that you exist. So by all means, punish me. If you work hard enough at it, maybe I can live forever!"
Now before you think I am really cruel, though maybe I am, I have a personal policy about children who are trying but failing or children who are disabled. My policy is I never have a battle of wits with unarmed opponents. This speech is for the children who are spiteful, disrupted and a waste of God given ability. While I have lectured a child until they cry (like when they put a friends finger in the pencil sharpener as a joke when they were trying to read!) this speech has never evoked tears, because the kids I've said it to weren't listening to me anyway, which is kind of the point. Mostly it's for the benefit of the kids around them who I don't want to get any ideas.
Anyway, I'm glad it's Friday and I can start on the "not giving it a second thought" part of the threat. My trainer calls and I'm sure he can inflict enough pain that it will be days before I can remember my own name much less this kid's!
Thursday, April 20, 2006
We did nothing really wrong, just splatted an Orange against this other kids head from across the room, when the sub was writing on the board...
Sometimes I think that the lies we tell ourselves are just as heinous if not more so than the lies we tell others. You should have seen the innocent looks on these two faces as they explained how the whole thing was completely blown out of proportion.
Then I saw the orange splatter all over the classroom (quietly thanking God it wasn't my room and that it didn't happen in my class) and knew that I wasn't the only one being lied to.
Then I saw the orange splatter all over the classroom (quietly thanking God it wasn't my room and that it didn't happen in my class) and knew that I wasn't the only one being lied to.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Theme Songs
Maybe I'm the only one that does this, but at least once a year, sometimes more often than that, I'll find a theme song. I play it for a pick me up, confidence boost and when I'm at Boy Scout Camp I use it as my introduction music when I speak before the boys at campfire. I am always keeping an ear out for the next one.
It's sort of like that whole theme song schtick on Alley McBeal all those years ago (like 7 or 8 now, I think) when Tracey Ulman made Alley pick a song to hear in her head. Alley picked, "Tell Him," which was totally wrong for her by the way...
Anyway.
So two years ago, at camp, the song was Reba's "I'm gonna take that mountain."
Chorus
I'm gonna take that mountain,
Nothin's gonna slow me down.
Ain't no way around it,
Gonna leave it level with the ground
Ain't just gonna cross it, climb it, fight it...
I'm gonna take that mountain.
Last year it was "Six Foot Town" by Big and Rich
Verse 1
My breaks are on fire, from trying to slow down
I'm always burnin' my tires and my horn is too loud
I catch people staring, looking funny at me
As I step to the window and I toss a TV
Sometimes I get crazy and it makes a big scene
But when I hit 21 I want to stand up and scream
I'm filthy rich with laughter, I'm too big for the room
You know from two stories up a Zenith Makes a big BOOM
Chorus
And it's hard to get around in a six foot town
When you're ten feet tall, every thing is so small
I'm always bumping my head, I'm way to long for the bed
And it's hard to get around in a six foot town.
Bridge
And sometimes I stumble, just because of my size, but hey ya'll that's all right. It's the way God made me and I am what I am and I can't do nothing 'bout that.
This past month I have found a new one. "One Girl Revolution" by Superchick
Chorus
And I'll be everything that I wanna be
I am confidence in insecurity
I am the voice still waiting to be heard
I'll fire the shot, BANG, that you hear 'round the world
And I'm a one girl revolution
I wonder if other people do this and what their theme songs are?
It's sort of like that whole theme song schtick on Alley McBeal all those years ago (like 7 or 8 now, I think) when Tracey Ulman made Alley pick a song to hear in her head. Alley picked, "Tell Him," which was totally wrong for her by the way...
Anyway.
So two years ago, at camp, the song was Reba's "I'm gonna take that mountain."
Chorus
I'm gonna take that mountain,
Nothin's gonna slow me down.
Ain't no way around it,
Gonna leave it level with the ground
Ain't just gonna cross it, climb it, fight it...
I'm gonna take that mountain.
Last year it was "Six Foot Town" by Big and Rich
Verse 1
My breaks are on fire, from trying to slow down
I'm always burnin' my tires and my horn is too loud
I catch people staring, looking funny at me
As I step to the window and I toss a TV
Sometimes I get crazy and it makes a big scene
But when I hit 21 I want to stand up and scream
I'm filthy rich with laughter, I'm too big for the room
You know from two stories up a Zenith Makes a big BOOM
Chorus
And it's hard to get around in a six foot town
When you're ten feet tall, every thing is so small
I'm always bumping my head, I'm way to long for the bed
And it's hard to get around in a six foot town.
Bridge
And sometimes I stumble, just because of my size, but hey ya'll that's all right. It's the way God made me and I am what I am and I can't do nothing 'bout that.
This past month I have found a new one. "One Girl Revolution" by Superchick
Chorus
And I'll be everything that I wanna be
I am confidence in insecurity
I am the voice still waiting to be heard
I'll fire the shot, BANG, that you hear 'round the world
And I'm a one girl revolution
I wonder if other people do this and what their theme songs are?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Daddy's Girl
Last night I was up late doing taxes, or more precisely waiting for Turbo Tax to file my taxes, the actual process was less than 30 minutes and was one of the best paid 30 minutes of my life so far at $33 dollars earned per minute. Anyway, I was up late and had the joy of a nice long talk with a dear friend. I had another talk with another friend the night before as well and there was a common thread in both conversations (though for different reasons and different amounts of time), my father. Further when I visited a dear and almost lost friend over a week ago (for the first time in over a decade!) he was discussed then too. It got me to thinking about who and what Dad's are.
The most immediate part to that discussion is who my Dad is. My Dad is tall and straight with a worry creased forehead that his receding hairline doesn't cover and deep set eyes. He has defined brows that he can raise one at a time. He has a "perfect" straight nose, surgically created after he broke his twice and thin lips that get thinner when he smiles, rarely showing white teeth. His eyes are a piercing blue and his hair is slowly becoming all white, especially at his temples and surrounding the increasing circle at the top of his head. I have always thought he was handsome, a cross between Liam Nieson, William Hurt with a little Harrison Ford thrown in for attitude. He was a career military officer, 22 years in the USN (on top of a childhood as a Navy Brat to his father's 30 years of distinguished Naval service), and now has a PhD in Public Administration and policy. His specialties are Human Resourse Management and Ethics. He occasionally teaches, writes, goes to conferences, supports his wife in all her endeavors and keeps a close watch on his single daughter in Atlanta and a casual yet careful eye on his married son in Vermont. When his first wife left him with two devastated teenagers to raise (one a girl and he didn't even have sisters!), he took a deep breath, leaned into the harness and became one of the best fathers I know. Not perfect, but very good. Many people find him dry, but astute, cynical yet kind and very wise. To me, he is simply Daddy.
As a teacher I meet Dad's all the time, though not as much as mom's. Dad's are often swifter to discipline and harder to impress. Students who have fathers with an active roll in their life tend to speak about them with slightly awed hushed tones, even if there is also disdain or dislike. Sometimes I can tell someone is a great Dad and sometimes I can tell when they are not, but mostly I can simply tell that they are Dad's. Understand I am talking about a man who is actively involved in the raising of a child, not someone who has submitted his genetic material to create a life. Dad's are definitely uniquely positioned in our memories, whether by their presence or their absence.
But the thing I have really spent the second half of my life learning is that Dad's are above all else, people. They are subject to the same fears, concerns, mistakes and joys that the rest of us are. They are fallible, some of them their single flaw simply being absent (and that can be a physical or emotional thing). Some of them would be less flawed if they were not around. Those of us that have father's active in our lives often have a moment when we finally realize that they are simply human and that not only were they once young like us, but that the human soul is ageless and they are often uncertain, scared and sad just like we are. We also learn that they are not so much smarter, better or stronger than us, they have simply been at life longer and have learned more tricks of the trade.
The beautiful young lady I spoke to last night has to make that difficult transition from child to adult in her father's eyes. It is a long, hard struggle and a major part of growing up for us Daddy's Girls. Thankfully, she, like I, was blessed with a terrific and loving father. As I listened to her struggling with her desire to love and honor her father and her desire to make her own choices (and her own mistakes) I found myself going back through my own moments in that process. These are the things that I saw and the things that have caused my reflection (and therefore Blog Entry) today.
The day I knew my father was above all, just a man, a human man whose soul could bleed, was one day while my parents were still living together, though they had already decided to separate. I was cleaning my room, which meant I had a huge garbage bag full of papers and was picking up more. My parents were arguing and my father left his room, ran into mine and grabbed me to him so tight I couldn't breathe. He sobbed into my shoulder for a few minutes, as I had sobbed into his so many times. Then he took a deep breath, stood up straight and smiled at me, sadly. He finished helping me pick up the papers and then he went out to the garage to take the car to go get my brother from some activity or another. It was the first time I had seen my father in tears. While it has not been the last, it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I was not only afraid for him, I was afraid of him. He was supposed to be my protector and if he was falling apart then what did I have to cling to?
Later that year came the fights. Horrible things were said and I imagine worse things were thought, though unlike arguments with my brother (or even my mother) I learned to trust that Dad and I had boundaries, we could argue and it wasn't the end of the world and that there were rules I could trust, things we would never say or do to hurt each other. I have found true confidence in that truth no where else in my life.
Now, 15 years later, he is truly one of my best friends and he has told me I am one of his. I find myself so honored and proud of our connection. We talk a few times a week, sometimes briefly, sometimes over an hour. I visit four times a year or so and we stay up all night sometimes. Often we talk of important things, but just as often we talk about books or science fiction (or lately, the TV show House). We laugh and sometimes we even cry. When I need him to be my Dad or my Daddy, he opens his arms and he is, but more often than not now, I just need him to be my friend and he opens his arms and is. Sometimes he calls me, just to talk, and I just listen and sometimes he laughs and sometimes he cries and I just listen and love him as his daughter and as his friend and it's okay. When his mother died, like I had all those years ago when my Mom left, I held him and let him cry into my shoulder (his wife did too, but I am a foot taller than she is and so I was better at holding Dad up... ) and this time I wasn't terrified. Mostly I was honored. I also found myself recognizing that if we had not had the horrific terrifying moment, if we had not built trust through adversity, this moment would not have been possible. As awful as those moments were, being my father's friend, has made them worth it.
I think there is a reason people talk to me about their fathers and a reason people always remember and ask me about mine. What my Dad and I have is special, but it was born of fire and testing and it was hard work. So as I pray for my friend today, that she will get through a difficult time and that she will someday be as blessed in her relationship with her Dad as I am in mine, I find myself confidant that this time will be worth it and will bear for her that same fruit, though it will take time.
As a final thought, I can't help but think it's funny that many people like to tease me that I am a "Daddy's Girl." It always makes me smile and I always say, "thank-you!"
The most immediate part to that discussion is who my Dad is. My Dad is tall and straight with a worry creased forehead that his receding hairline doesn't cover and deep set eyes. He has defined brows that he can raise one at a time. He has a "perfect" straight nose, surgically created after he broke his twice and thin lips that get thinner when he smiles, rarely showing white teeth. His eyes are a piercing blue and his hair is slowly becoming all white, especially at his temples and surrounding the increasing circle at the top of his head. I have always thought he was handsome, a cross between Liam Nieson, William Hurt with a little Harrison Ford thrown in for attitude. He was a career military officer, 22 years in the USN (on top of a childhood as a Navy Brat to his father's 30 years of distinguished Naval service), and now has a PhD in Public Administration and policy. His specialties are Human Resourse Management and Ethics. He occasionally teaches, writes, goes to conferences, supports his wife in all her endeavors and keeps a close watch on his single daughter in Atlanta and a casual yet careful eye on his married son in Vermont. When his first wife left him with two devastated teenagers to raise (one a girl and he didn't even have sisters!), he took a deep breath, leaned into the harness and became one of the best fathers I know. Not perfect, but very good. Many people find him dry, but astute, cynical yet kind and very wise. To me, he is simply Daddy.
As a teacher I meet Dad's all the time, though not as much as mom's. Dad's are often swifter to discipline and harder to impress. Students who have fathers with an active roll in their life tend to speak about them with slightly awed hushed tones, even if there is also disdain or dislike. Sometimes I can tell someone is a great Dad and sometimes I can tell when they are not, but mostly I can simply tell that they are Dad's. Understand I am talking about a man who is actively involved in the raising of a child, not someone who has submitted his genetic material to create a life. Dad's are definitely uniquely positioned in our memories, whether by their presence or their absence.
But the thing I have really spent the second half of my life learning is that Dad's are above all else, people. They are subject to the same fears, concerns, mistakes and joys that the rest of us are. They are fallible, some of them their single flaw simply being absent (and that can be a physical or emotional thing). Some of them would be less flawed if they were not around. Those of us that have father's active in our lives often have a moment when we finally realize that they are simply human and that not only were they once young like us, but that the human soul is ageless and they are often uncertain, scared and sad just like we are. We also learn that they are not so much smarter, better or stronger than us, they have simply been at life longer and have learned more tricks of the trade.
The beautiful young lady I spoke to last night has to make that difficult transition from child to adult in her father's eyes. It is a long, hard struggle and a major part of growing up for us Daddy's Girls. Thankfully, she, like I, was blessed with a terrific and loving father. As I listened to her struggling with her desire to love and honor her father and her desire to make her own choices (and her own mistakes) I found myself going back through my own moments in that process. These are the things that I saw and the things that have caused my reflection (and therefore Blog Entry) today.
The day I knew my father was above all, just a man, a human man whose soul could bleed, was one day while my parents were still living together, though they had already decided to separate. I was cleaning my room, which meant I had a huge garbage bag full of papers and was picking up more. My parents were arguing and my father left his room, ran into mine and grabbed me to him so tight I couldn't breathe. He sobbed into my shoulder for a few minutes, as I had sobbed into his so many times. Then he took a deep breath, stood up straight and smiled at me, sadly. He finished helping me pick up the papers and then he went out to the garage to take the car to go get my brother from some activity or another. It was the first time I had seen my father in tears. While it has not been the last, it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I was not only afraid for him, I was afraid of him. He was supposed to be my protector and if he was falling apart then what did I have to cling to?
Later that year came the fights. Horrible things were said and I imagine worse things were thought, though unlike arguments with my brother (or even my mother) I learned to trust that Dad and I had boundaries, we could argue and it wasn't the end of the world and that there were rules I could trust, things we would never say or do to hurt each other. I have found true confidence in that truth no where else in my life.
Now, 15 years later, he is truly one of my best friends and he has told me I am one of his. I find myself so honored and proud of our connection. We talk a few times a week, sometimes briefly, sometimes over an hour. I visit four times a year or so and we stay up all night sometimes. Often we talk of important things, but just as often we talk about books or science fiction (or lately, the TV show House). We laugh and sometimes we even cry. When I need him to be my Dad or my Daddy, he opens his arms and he is, but more often than not now, I just need him to be my friend and he opens his arms and is. Sometimes he calls me, just to talk, and I just listen and sometimes he laughs and sometimes he cries and I just listen and love him as his daughter and as his friend and it's okay. When his mother died, like I had all those years ago when my Mom left, I held him and let him cry into my shoulder (his wife did too, but I am a foot taller than she is and so I was better at holding Dad up... ) and this time I wasn't terrified. Mostly I was honored. I also found myself recognizing that if we had not had the horrific terrifying moment, if we had not built trust through adversity, this moment would not have been possible. As awful as those moments were, being my father's friend, has made them worth it.
I think there is a reason people talk to me about their fathers and a reason people always remember and ask me about mine. What my Dad and I have is special, but it was born of fire and testing and it was hard work. So as I pray for my friend today, that she will get through a difficult time and that she will someday be as blessed in her relationship with her Dad as I am in mine, I find myself confidant that this time will be worth it and will bear for her that same fruit, though it will take time.
As a final thought, I can't help but think it's funny that many people like to tease me that I am a "Daddy's Girl." It always makes me smile and I always say, "thank-you!"
Monday, April 17, 2006
Horse of A Different Color
My students had an assignment on idioms today involving animals. Things got interesting.
These were some of the more interesting answers. See if you can figure out what they should have been. Remember these are ninth graders and this is a compilation of the most interesting ones.
1) Bum Bear
2) Happy as a Butterfly
3) Get One's Robin
4) Free as a Convict (OMG!)
5) As the Vulture flies
6) Take a Pony
7) Memory of an Ostritch
8) Flea Market
9) Cricket in one's throat
10) Red Bird
11) Meek as a worm
12) Paper Trout (I still can't figure out where they got this one!)
13) Triceratops got your tongue?
14) Cart before the Elephant
15) Monkey Tears
16) Shark court
17) Snake Wrench
18) Crazy as a Lady Bug
19) Lame Dog
20) Sly as a Teacher (I took offense to that!)
So many of these aren't used anymore so I kind of understand, but it was funny. Then not only did I have to give them the right animals, but explain the idioms. In order, the correct answers are, Steer, Clam, Goat, Bird, Crow, Gander, Elephant, Bull, Frog, Herring, Lamb, Tiger, Cat, Horse, Crocodile, Kangaroo, Monkey, Loon, Duck, Fox. It was a very enlightening lesson, to say the least. My favorite is the paper trout. Oh my, I love Mondays!
These were some of the more interesting answers. See if you can figure out what they should have been. Remember these are ninth graders and this is a compilation of the most interesting ones.
1) Bum Bear
2) Happy as a Butterfly
3) Get One's Robin
4) Free as a Convict (OMG!)
5) As the Vulture flies
6) Take a Pony
7) Memory of an Ostritch
8) Flea Market
9) Cricket in one's throat
10) Red Bird
11) Meek as a worm
12) Paper Trout (I still can't figure out where they got this one!)
13) Triceratops got your tongue?
14) Cart before the Elephant
15) Monkey Tears
16) Shark court
17) Snake Wrench
18) Crazy as a Lady Bug
19) Lame Dog
20) Sly as a Teacher (I took offense to that!)
So many of these aren't used anymore so I kind of understand, but it was funny. Then not only did I have to give them the right animals, but explain the idioms. In order, the correct answers are, Steer, Clam, Goat, Bird, Crow, Gander, Elephant, Bull, Frog, Herring, Lamb, Tiger, Cat, Horse, Crocodile, Kangaroo, Monkey, Loon, Duck, Fox. It was a very enlightening lesson, to say the least. My favorite is the paper trout. Oh my, I love Mondays!
Hodge Podge on a Monday morning...
Sleep is a precious commodity in my life. I really am one of those people who biologically needs the full eight hours. I average about 6 a night during the week. I've been trying lately to get more, but... Then on the weekends I get closer to 8 or nine a night plus a nap or two. Only one problem. Sunday afternoon, with nap, I tend to reach saturation point and then can't get to sleep on Sunday night until late and even then it ends up being kind of fitful. So Monday's I am always tired. How messed up is that?
Nana's eye is healing very well and she looks great. A lot of people at church didn't even really notice. Nana is so excited about the results that she is already talking about having her hip replaced ASAP at the same hospital. This is a procedure we have been trying to get her to agree to for five years. In the car on the way home from church, yesterday, she looks at me and says, "Do you think my eye has done so well and been healing so well because people were praying for me?" I smiled and said I was very sure that had something to do with it. She turned, settled back into her seat and then announced, "Well then, they better pray for me when I get my hip replaced, damnit!" Okay, Nana. I'll let them know.
Friendships are funny things. They go through seasons. This has really been brought home to me this past week. One friend, I got to spend a day with about a week ago on my way home from my vacation. I hadn't seen her in almost six years. Yet, as we sat, in her living room, surrounded by her children and husband, whom I had never met before, it was as though there had been no gap and we were girls again, laughing and giggling and sharing. Another good friend, a woman like a mother to me, really, and I spoke on the phone last night for over two hours. We talk like that, in spurts, nothing for months and then hours and it always seems right. Then a friend I have here, locally, gets antsy if we don't touch base every few days. While I'd be okay with once every few weeks, I find I do look forward to hearing from her so regularly. Also the way our friendships change over time, so often the way that we became friends influences what our friendship remains based on and other times, the basis changes yearly, even monthly. Friendships are funny things, and there is nothing sweeter.
My class begins Romeo and Juliet today. This time around it's a bit odd as I just directed a production of Romeo and Juliet that was performed for these students (and in some cases, by these students). While I have always liked the play, the drama of it, the language, I take issue with so many people thinking of it as romantic. It is not romantic! Romeo and Juliet is about a boy (17) who declares him self in love with one girl (Rosaline), but bemoans the fact that she will not sleep with him (Romeo) or return his affection and takes a bet to go to a party of a rival family's house to prove he cannot be deterred from loving her and sees a new girl (13) and in an instant now falls in love with her. Said girl (Juliet) is being promised to a man of royal connections (Paris) who is also much older than she is (25-35) and so she sees this opportunity to be with someone her own age and maybe get out from underneath her parent's oppressive thumbs and so she takes it. Then as we all know things get complicated. This story is not romantic, it is simply sad, which may be why Shakespeare wrote it as a tragedy. It's almost kind of sad for me when I teach it to kids and they begin to see the real story underneath and they too learn how unromantic this whole thing is.
I have to finish my taxes today(!). Turbotax is a wonderful tool and I'm simple enough in my finances that it is over pretty quickly and I usually get something back, so I wonder why I drag my feet on getting it done. Oh well.
Happy Monday!
Nana's eye is healing very well and she looks great. A lot of people at church didn't even really notice. Nana is so excited about the results that she is already talking about having her hip replaced ASAP at the same hospital. This is a procedure we have been trying to get her to agree to for five years. In the car on the way home from church, yesterday, she looks at me and says, "Do you think my eye has done so well and been healing so well because people were praying for me?" I smiled and said I was very sure that had something to do with it. She turned, settled back into her seat and then announced, "Well then, they better pray for me when I get my hip replaced, damnit!" Okay, Nana. I'll let them know.
Friendships are funny things. They go through seasons. This has really been brought home to me this past week. One friend, I got to spend a day with about a week ago on my way home from my vacation. I hadn't seen her in almost six years. Yet, as we sat, in her living room, surrounded by her children and husband, whom I had never met before, it was as though there had been no gap and we were girls again, laughing and giggling and sharing. Another good friend, a woman like a mother to me, really, and I spoke on the phone last night for over two hours. We talk like that, in spurts, nothing for months and then hours and it always seems right. Then a friend I have here, locally, gets antsy if we don't touch base every few days. While I'd be okay with once every few weeks, I find I do look forward to hearing from her so regularly. Also the way our friendships change over time, so often the way that we became friends influences what our friendship remains based on and other times, the basis changes yearly, even monthly. Friendships are funny things, and there is nothing sweeter.
My class begins Romeo and Juliet today. This time around it's a bit odd as I just directed a production of Romeo and Juliet that was performed for these students (and in some cases, by these students). While I have always liked the play, the drama of it, the language, I take issue with so many people thinking of it as romantic. It is not romantic! Romeo and Juliet is about a boy (17) who declares him self in love with one girl (Rosaline), but bemoans the fact that she will not sleep with him (Romeo) or return his affection and takes a bet to go to a party of a rival family's house to prove he cannot be deterred from loving her and sees a new girl (13) and in an instant now falls in love with her. Said girl (Juliet) is being promised to a man of royal connections (Paris) who is also much older than she is (25-35) and so she sees this opportunity to be with someone her own age and maybe get out from underneath her parent's oppressive thumbs and so she takes it. Then as we all know things get complicated. This story is not romantic, it is simply sad, which may be why Shakespeare wrote it as a tragedy. It's almost kind of sad for me when I teach it to kids and they begin to see the real story underneath and they too learn how unromantic this whole thing is.
I have to finish my taxes today(!). Turbotax is a wonderful tool and I'm simple enough in my finances that it is over pretty quickly and I usually get something back, so I wonder why I drag my feet on getting it done. Oh well.
Happy Monday!
Friday, April 14, 2006
"My Granddaughter Abuses Me"
Nana is so funny. No really, she is hysterical and it's hard to breathe sometimes when I am around her... Either because I am laughing so hard or because I'm trying not to gag over the smell of her coat that she won't let me wash.
She had surgery yesterday. This is a very drawn out story. In a nut shell, 20 years ago she had the bags over her eyes fixed. A stray stitch at the corner of her eye created a situation where he eye did not fully close again. It didn't bother her or anyone else until six years ago when an ophthalmic surgeon insisted that her eye could not heal properly after cataract surgery if the problem was not corrected. However, he could "fix" it. His fixing caused Nana's left lower lid to turn slightly under so that the conjunctiva is perpetually exposed and angrily red all the time. It also made her eye droop slightly. Since then every morning she wakes up with almost a pink-eye like mess of crust and we are constantly cleaning that eye so it doesn't look gunky. Further it leaks tears non-stop. That $%!@#$%!@#$% of a doctor told her that there was nothing else he could do about it an Nana believed him. For six years. I recently convinced her that being as it has been more than five years opthamology has most likely improved enough that we can fix it. We found an excellent doctor at Emory and yesterday morning at 7:30AM they fixed Nana's eye. Even with the puffiness and bruising that accompanies surgery, you can already see the marked improvement. Nana is beside herself with joy. This brings out her playful side.
Here is where the problem starts.
Nana thinks it's funny to say I hit/abuse her. This is less funny than you think. Everyone loves Nana and takes her much more seriously that anyone in our family ever would. I am not a small or unintimidating person. People always laugh when she says this, but they take a beat and look me up and down. The black eye she now has doesn't help this issue. Thankfully all the people at the hospital knew she got the black eye there with them and just chuckled appreciatively at her humor. The lady behind the counter at Moe's (Nana's favorite lunch place and where we went after the outpatient, minimal anesthetic procedure) looked rather taken aback. (As a side note, the surgery went well, Nana's eye looks great all considered and she has very minimal pain. For the most part she's back to normal already...)
This has been going on for years. It started when Nana first came to me. I insisted she take showers regularly, not just "spit baths." I had originally shot for every day, now I settle for every couple of days, but clean fresh clothes every day. Anyway, the first few times I used to stand next to the shower with her until I was sure she could handle it and wouldn't fall, slip, etc. She would literally say, laughing, "Abuse, abuse, abuse, I'm going to melt away to nothing!" The whole time. I would laugh back and say that was only funny inside the house. Then she would tell my friends, and others about how I was trying to flake her away to nothing by washing her to death. Most laughed indulgently. I would smile and tell her (again!) privately that this joke needed to stay more private. She would nod and then next time around...
She also says that forcing her to eat broccoli is abuse too. I don't force her, for the record, though I might accept the term strongly encourage.
Anyway, with the shiner she is sporting now, I imagine this should become even "funnier". Easter church on Sunday is beginning to fill me dread. One of these days I may just laugh back and say, "Nana, you know that isn't true, shut up!" and back hand her across her favorite lunch joint (that is a joke, I would never hit her, which is what makes this so frustarating, and why she thinks it is so funny, because she doesn't see why anyone would believe it and there for must know she is kidding...)
Though I suppose this is just some form of massive payback. For when I was a teenager.
When Nana lived in Kansas and I used to visit her, we went to Blockbuster for movies. One time, Nana was trying to pay for a movie and she turned her change purse over scattering over $10 in change across the counter. Rather than die of embarrasement, I fixed my face with a smug 16 year old smile, looked the clerk in the eye and said, "Don't worry, we're taking her to the home tomorrow." The guy just nodded and said, "yeah, that's rough. You're sweet to take her out on her last night, though." Nana was seething by the time we got back into the car. My brother thought the story was so funny, he often told people we were taking her to the home in the morning when he was in public with Nana (during his middle school years) and she did anything he considered odd or funny. Nana was angry at him for taunting her, but she blamed me, I could tell. It stopped when he turned 16 and she threatened to take him out of her will.
So I probably deserve this abuse... I may melt away to nothing.
She had surgery yesterday. This is a very drawn out story. In a nut shell, 20 years ago she had the bags over her eyes fixed. A stray stitch at the corner of her eye created a situation where he eye did not fully close again. It didn't bother her or anyone else until six years ago when an ophthalmic surgeon insisted that her eye could not heal properly after cataract surgery if the problem was not corrected. However, he could "fix" it. His fixing caused Nana's left lower lid to turn slightly under so that the conjunctiva is perpetually exposed and angrily red all the time. It also made her eye droop slightly. Since then every morning she wakes up with almost a pink-eye like mess of crust and we are constantly cleaning that eye so it doesn't look gunky. Further it leaks tears non-stop. That $%!@#$%!@#$% of a doctor told her that there was nothing else he could do about it an Nana believed him. For six years. I recently convinced her that being as it has been more than five years opthamology has most likely improved enough that we can fix it. We found an excellent doctor at Emory and yesterday morning at 7:30AM they fixed Nana's eye. Even with the puffiness and bruising that accompanies surgery, you can already see the marked improvement. Nana is beside herself with joy. This brings out her playful side.
Here is where the problem starts.
Nana thinks it's funny to say I hit/abuse her. This is less funny than you think. Everyone loves Nana and takes her much more seriously that anyone in our family ever would. I am not a small or unintimidating person. People always laugh when she says this, but they take a beat and look me up and down. The black eye she now has doesn't help this issue. Thankfully all the people at the hospital knew she got the black eye there with them and just chuckled appreciatively at her humor. The lady behind the counter at Moe's (Nana's favorite lunch place and where we went after the outpatient, minimal anesthetic procedure) looked rather taken aback. (As a side note, the surgery went well, Nana's eye looks great all considered and she has very minimal pain. For the most part she's back to normal already...)
This has been going on for years. It started when Nana first came to me. I insisted she take showers regularly, not just "spit baths." I had originally shot for every day, now I settle for every couple of days, but clean fresh clothes every day. Anyway, the first few times I used to stand next to the shower with her until I was sure she could handle it and wouldn't fall, slip, etc. She would literally say, laughing, "Abuse, abuse, abuse, I'm going to melt away to nothing!" The whole time. I would laugh back and say that was only funny inside the house. Then she would tell my friends, and others about how I was trying to flake her away to nothing by washing her to death. Most laughed indulgently. I would smile and tell her (again!) privately that this joke needed to stay more private. She would nod and then next time around...
She also says that forcing her to eat broccoli is abuse too. I don't force her, for the record, though I might accept the term strongly encourage.
Anyway, with the shiner she is sporting now, I imagine this should become even "funnier". Easter church on Sunday is beginning to fill me dread. One of these days I may just laugh back and say, "Nana, you know that isn't true, shut up!" and back hand her across her favorite lunch joint (that is a joke, I would never hit her, which is what makes this so frustarating, and why she thinks it is so funny, because she doesn't see why anyone would believe it and there for must know she is kidding...)
Though I suppose this is just some form of massive payback. For when I was a teenager.
When Nana lived in Kansas and I used to visit her, we went to Blockbuster for movies. One time, Nana was trying to pay for a movie and she turned her change purse over scattering over $10 in change across the counter. Rather than die of embarrasement, I fixed my face with a smug 16 year old smile, looked the clerk in the eye and said, "Don't worry, we're taking her to the home tomorrow." The guy just nodded and said, "yeah, that's rough. You're sweet to take her out on her last night, though." Nana was seething by the time we got back into the car. My brother thought the story was so funny, he often told people we were taking her to the home in the morning when he was in public with Nana (during his middle school years) and she did anything he considered odd or funny. Nana was angry at him for taunting her, but she blamed me, I could tell. It stopped when he turned 16 and she threatened to take him out of her will.
So I probably deserve this abuse... I may melt away to nothing.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Sandy's Great Adventure (The Final Chapter!)
On Day 7 we went to Cozumel, Mexico, which is an island. At the island Mark and I caught a tender to the main land and began our journey to go see the Tulum Mayan Ruins. This was what had been the most anticipated event of the trip for me, intellectually. (Emotionally I was the most excited about the dolphins). It was so hot and humid, but it was a beautiful day. The trip took an hour by bus after nearly 45 minutes by tender boat. When we got to the ruins we had about two hours and then we had to come back to the bus. On the bus our first tour guide began to tell us about the Mayan culture, the Yucatan Penn, and the ruins we were going to see. He, himself, was Mayan and had many fascinating insights into this world that existed so long ago. I could have listened to him for hours. Then at the ruins a different guide took us throughout he ruins and spoke to us about the world that had been there, what the building meant and about the religion. The fact that Mayans had used very peaceful worship for many generations and then under influence of the Aztec began to add human sacrifice was very sad to me. They were clearly a beautiful and graceful group of people. To be corrupted that way is just sad. The ruins were very well preserved. One way they were able to accomplish this was by not letting anyone into them. So all you could see was the buildings from about five feet away (as close as they would let you get). In some ways that was sad too. I mean it makes sense for sake of preservation and all, and people can be so stupid and careless and damage things with out even thinking, but I wanted to walk with these people some more and feel them a bit more, you know? It was really neat. Like walking through downtown Florence and Rome and London and just feeling all the years and centuries of culture just oozing inward on you. It made me feel in many way connected and in so many others separate. I'll move on now before I sound really nuts.
I guess, as a sightseeing thing, Tulum was my favorite, though the River Falls and the Sting Rays were the most "fun" and the dolphins were the most emotionally satisfying.
Now we had three last days of luxury. Two at sea and one on a private island in the Bahamas. While On the cruise I took Yoga classes, and on the island we were able to do the yoga on the beach which was really neat, though a little gritty. Yoga is actually kind of cool, but I would say that when I watch all the others do it they look so graceful and lean. I look rather ridiculous, but it was still fun.
Also there were the shows at night. Musicians, Comedians and wonder of wonders, Acrobats! A group, kind of like Circ de Solei. Trapeeze artists, acrobats, dancers, gymnasts and so graceful and strong and it was stunning. I found myself wondering why you would do that on a ship with the floor moving beneath you. That takes some real courage if you ask me. There was even a Second City comedy Troupe that was there and they did classes on improv. It was so neat to listen and learn and watch and LAUGH! The magician did a class about memory abilities that was amazing and I really learned some neat tricks I intend to use in class.
Last but most importantly, the food on this cruise was unbelievable. The sushi was terrific. They made California Rolls with Mango instead of avocado. Oh my. The fish was so fresh, which I found fascinating, considering the fact that much of it had had to have been frozen. The restaurants were all excellent, with good service. The steak place, served one of the best steaks I've had in years. Also the salads, deserts and fruit were all very nice. The pacific cuisine restaurant had a ginger creme brulee that was to die for. It was so good one night I even went by and asked, although I had eaten at a different restaurant, if I could just have a brulee? They brought two out to me with spoons and I took them up to the room. Mark came in, turned on the TV and then asked if I'd gotten one of the two for him. I smiled and said, "no." It was so creamy with a perfect crust on top. The ginger was there, but very subtle and not overpowering or overly spicy to compete with the texture. Also, there was an avacado and grapefruit salad with chipolte lime dressing that was so elegant. They had real mozerella de buffula with the tomatoes and fresh basil, real italian parchuetto with ripe cantelope and the shrimp cocktail was never rubbery. The drinks were a bit weak, but I'm not much of a drinker so that was fine with me, and Mark said the wine was very good.
Overall this was an amazing trip. I'm still digesting all of it. I suppose for a control freak like me it is a great vacation. My control issues are on holiday as everything is taken care of for me. It was just perfect.
I guess, as a sightseeing thing, Tulum was my favorite, though the River Falls and the Sting Rays were the most "fun" and the dolphins were the most emotionally satisfying.
Now we had three last days of luxury. Two at sea and one on a private island in the Bahamas. While On the cruise I took Yoga classes, and on the island we were able to do the yoga on the beach which was really neat, though a little gritty. Yoga is actually kind of cool, but I would say that when I watch all the others do it they look so graceful and lean. I look rather ridiculous, but it was still fun.
Also there were the shows at night. Musicians, Comedians and wonder of wonders, Acrobats! A group, kind of like Circ de Solei. Trapeeze artists, acrobats, dancers, gymnasts and so graceful and strong and it was stunning. I found myself wondering why you would do that on a ship with the floor moving beneath you. That takes some real courage if you ask me. There was even a Second City comedy Troupe that was there and they did classes on improv. It was so neat to listen and learn and watch and LAUGH! The magician did a class about memory abilities that was amazing and I really learned some neat tricks I intend to use in class.
Last but most importantly, the food on this cruise was unbelievable. The sushi was terrific. They made California Rolls with Mango instead of avocado. Oh my. The fish was so fresh, which I found fascinating, considering the fact that much of it had had to have been frozen. The restaurants were all excellent, with good service. The steak place, served one of the best steaks I've had in years. Also the salads, deserts and fruit were all very nice. The pacific cuisine restaurant had a ginger creme brulee that was to die for. It was so good one night I even went by and asked, although I had eaten at a different restaurant, if I could just have a brulee? They brought two out to me with spoons and I took them up to the room. Mark came in, turned on the TV and then asked if I'd gotten one of the two for him. I smiled and said, "no." It was so creamy with a perfect crust on top. The ginger was there, but very subtle and not overpowering or overly spicy to compete with the texture. Also, there was an avacado and grapefruit salad with chipolte lime dressing that was so elegant. They had real mozerella de buffula with the tomatoes and fresh basil, real italian parchuetto with ripe cantelope and the shrimp cocktail was never rubbery. The drinks were a bit weak, but I'm not much of a drinker so that was fine with me, and Mark said the wine was very good.
Overall this was an amazing trip. I'm still digesting all of it. I suppose for a control freak like me it is a great vacation. My control issues are on holiday as everything is taken care of for me. It was just perfect.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Sandy's Great Adventure (Part 2)
So where was I? Oh yes. Just left the Caymen's, I believe.
Then there was Honduras. Here we came to play with the dolphins. This was something to behold. After a madcap taxi ride and a long walk we boarded a small dingy boat and went to another island where they had a dolphin center. There were sixteen dolphins there and we got to play with one of them, a young male, Bill, for a half hour. The skin of a dolphin feels like rubber or a boiled egg. They are very friendly and very eager to please, but like dogs they have very distinct personalities. They are also way smart and so cheerful. It was like meeting water sprites. We played and splashed and had our pictures taken and it was over much too quickly.
The place itself was also rather neat. Apparently they do research with dolphins for various companies and scientific groups. The dolphins are well cared for and the tests are strictly behavioral, not chemical or cruel. They even take some of the dolphins out on diving trips with tourists. That sounds way cool to me. I asked if they were worried that the dolphins would not come back and they said none of them had ever run away (or swum away) because they knew life was easier and food was more plentiful here.
One little boy in our group was so funny. He demanded that he be in a group with a boy dolphin. He didn't like girls, you see. Dolphins in captivity do have a pecking order pack community, so it was interesting to see the dynamics of who was in charge of who in the water. I could have stayed for hours.
This was also the day when some of the high personal drama really began to take shape. You see I had made a deal with myself before I left that under no circumstances was I going to yell or lose my temper with anyone. I was on vacation. For the most part I kept to that. I also recognized that 11 days in close quarters with anyone and eventually people will get on each others nerves. However I was in for a few surprises on this trip.
The first was my traveling companions methods of self amusement. While I guess maybe I had noted it a very long time ago, I had forgotten or was unaware, that he chewed tobacco in the evening. Saying that I was appalled doesn't really cover it. Further he would usually dump out the bottle and rinse it out before retiring each night, but one night he left it open on the bathroom counter. The bathroom reeked in the morning. This whole thing really got on my nerves. Additionally, he never asked me what I wanted to do, he simply told me. Never a "please" or "would you like" or anything to that effect. Also he had to have the TV on whenever he was in the room and would flip channels constantly. He would often walk in when I was reading and turn on the TV with out asking. Lastly he had his wrist watch set to go off every morning at 5:30 AM but he never got up then. When I asked him to stop he said he wanted to get up then, but he never did. I often could not go back to sleep after it had gone off. The point of all this is, the evening of Honduras I had had enough.
So, when he walked in and said, "Come on, let's go swimming," at 6:00 PM, before we had eaten dinner (meaning after swimming an hour and then coming back I would have to clean up and dress for dinner putting dinner at 8:30 or 9:00 and I had a bit of sun burn and was already tired), I said "No!" He got huffy and left. Later, after I had a delightful meal at the sushi bar and met several new friends and he had eaten dinner alone in the room from the cafeteria, I apologized for being short, though not for saying no, explaining that he never asked and always ordered. He acknowledged the problem and said it was because he was so much younger than his siblings (over a decade) so that for all intents and purposes he was an only child and the baby and used to his own way. Then he proceeded to continue these behaviors the rest of the cruise. After that, I let him. If I wanted to do what he told me to, I did. If not, I politely declined. I love him to pieces, really, but I know now why he is single. I doubt he would take my advice, so I am saying nothing about it, but it makes me sad. This in no way diminished the trip and I'm glad to have spent the time with him, but I doubt I would share a room with him again, ever. The point was the only confrontation was that night.
The next morning we went to Belize. Mark opted to go on a reef snorkeling trip and I went on a different wildlife adventure on my own. The time apart was a good idea and excellent timing. I took a charming boat up the Belize River to observe wildlife, monkeys, birds, iguanas, manatees, crocodiles, bats and plants for several hours and then after a simple, indigenous supper, we went to the Belize Zoo.
Now this is a terrific idea. It is a zoo that only houses indigenous wildlife and plants. All the animals there were either injured and therefore being treated, confiscated pets or born in captivity. Further there were no cages, only fenced (and often open) pavilions. It was really a very neat experience. There were monkeys, McCaws, Tucans, leopards, Pumas, Otters, and the most evil looking bird I have ever seen, the Harpy Eagle. It really was an delightful experience and anyone could see how well cared for and healthy the animals were. The monkeys were like drunk acrobats and the otters were like little eager children. When I got back, Mark had managed to burn himself (though luckily it faded by the next day to a tan). So we had a pretty peaceful evening before our early disembark for the Mayan Ruins the next day.
Tomorrow I'll finish up our travels and then get on to the important part, the food!
Then there was Honduras. Here we came to play with the dolphins. This was something to behold. After a madcap taxi ride and a long walk we boarded a small dingy boat and went to another island where they had a dolphin center. There were sixteen dolphins there and we got to play with one of them, a young male, Bill, for a half hour. The skin of a dolphin feels like rubber or a boiled egg. They are very friendly and very eager to please, but like dogs they have very distinct personalities. They are also way smart and so cheerful. It was like meeting water sprites. We played and splashed and had our pictures taken and it was over much too quickly.
The place itself was also rather neat. Apparently they do research with dolphins for various companies and scientific groups. The dolphins are well cared for and the tests are strictly behavioral, not chemical or cruel. They even take some of the dolphins out on diving trips with tourists. That sounds way cool to me. I asked if they were worried that the dolphins would not come back and they said none of them had ever run away (or swum away) because they knew life was easier and food was more plentiful here.
One little boy in our group was so funny. He demanded that he be in a group with a boy dolphin. He didn't like girls, you see. Dolphins in captivity do have a pecking order pack community, so it was interesting to see the dynamics of who was in charge of who in the water. I could have stayed for hours.
This was also the day when some of the high personal drama really began to take shape. You see I had made a deal with myself before I left that under no circumstances was I going to yell or lose my temper with anyone. I was on vacation. For the most part I kept to that. I also recognized that 11 days in close quarters with anyone and eventually people will get on each others nerves. However I was in for a few surprises on this trip.
The first was my traveling companions methods of self amusement. While I guess maybe I had noted it a very long time ago, I had forgotten or was unaware, that he chewed tobacco in the evening. Saying that I was appalled doesn't really cover it. Further he would usually dump out the bottle and rinse it out before retiring each night, but one night he left it open on the bathroom counter. The bathroom reeked in the morning. This whole thing really got on my nerves. Additionally, he never asked me what I wanted to do, he simply told me. Never a "please" or "would you like" or anything to that effect. Also he had to have the TV on whenever he was in the room and would flip channels constantly. He would often walk in when I was reading and turn on the TV with out asking. Lastly he had his wrist watch set to go off every morning at 5:30 AM but he never got up then. When I asked him to stop he said he wanted to get up then, but he never did. I often could not go back to sleep after it had gone off. The point of all this is, the evening of Honduras I had had enough.
So, when he walked in and said, "Come on, let's go swimming," at 6:00 PM, before we had eaten dinner (meaning after swimming an hour and then coming back I would have to clean up and dress for dinner putting dinner at 8:30 or 9:00 and I had a bit of sun burn and was already tired), I said "No!" He got huffy and left. Later, after I had a delightful meal at the sushi bar and met several new friends and he had eaten dinner alone in the room from the cafeteria, I apologized for being short, though not for saying no, explaining that he never asked and always ordered. He acknowledged the problem and said it was because he was so much younger than his siblings (over a decade) so that for all intents and purposes he was an only child and the baby and used to his own way. Then he proceeded to continue these behaviors the rest of the cruise. After that, I let him. If I wanted to do what he told me to, I did. If not, I politely declined. I love him to pieces, really, but I know now why he is single. I doubt he would take my advice, so I am saying nothing about it, but it makes me sad. This in no way diminished the trip and I'm glad to have spent the time with him, but I doubt I would share a room with him again, ever. The point was the only confrontation was that night.
The next morning we went to Belize. Mark opted to go on a reef snorkeling trip and I went on a different wildlife adventure on my own. The time apart was a good idea and excellent timing. I took a charming boat up the Belize River to observe wildlife, monkeys, birds, iguanas, manatees, crocodiles, bats and plants for several hours and then after a simple, indigenous supper, we went to the Belize Zoo.
Now this is a terrific idea. It is a zoo that only houses indigenous wildlife and plants. All the animals there were either injured and therefore being treated, confiscated pets or born in captivity. Further there were no cages, only fenced (and often open) pavilions. It was really a very neat experience. There were monkeys, McCaws, Tucans, leopards, Pumas, Otters, and the most evil looking bird I have ever seen, the Harpy Eagle. It really was an delightful experience and anyone could see how well cared for and healthy the animals were. The monkeys were like drunk acrobats and the otters were like little eager children. When I got back, Mark had managed to burn himself (though luckily it faded by the next day to a tan). So we had a pretty peaceful evening before our early disembark for the Mayan Ruins the next day.
Tomorrow I'll finish up our travels and then get on to the important part, the food!
Monday, April 10, 2006
Sandy's Great Adventure (Part 1)
This will actually take a couple of posts, but I gotta start somewhere, and the beginning seems like a good place, so...
After leaving school on Friday, completing errands that evening, driving all the way to Washington DC with Nana and dogs on Saturday, and flying into New York on Sunday morning I boarded the beautiful Norwegian Dawn in New York city.
The ship was huge and beautiful and very state of the art. We were given key cards that had all of our information on it and a picture so that we never had to carry money on board ship (they didn't take cash anywhere on ship even) we just used our card/key to charge our personal expense accounts. The ship had 3 main dining rooms that were full service and we could eat at for all meals (inside a wide time allotment... Dinner was 5:30-10:00 PM), an all day buffet, 5 specialty restaurants (reservations only and some had a cover charge) and there were snacks and special events all over too. There were also pubs, bars, lounges and an all night short order place too. There was live music everywhere. Pools and hot tubs, saunas, gyms, a spa to die for and a full theatre and cinema. It was like a floating resort/hotel/amusement park/retreat. Oh my!
Two days at sea while we got out of the cold US and into the Caribbean. Then our first stop was Jamaica. We went to Ocho Rios (which no one could explain to us. It means 8 rivers, but there are only four there...) There we saw the Green Grotto (a underground cavern system) and Dunn River Falls, a 900 feet high set of cascading water falls that you climb up. This day was an adventure for a few reasons.
My friend Mark was my traveling companion on this trip. We have been friends for years. Never more than that, nor will we ever be. We met in college at the Baptist Student Union and at our church there in Gainesville, Florida (home of the Gators, you know the Basketball Champions!!!!) He is now a dentist in the US AF out of Little Rock. This was our first trip of this caliber together. Anyway.
So we are climbing through the caves (they were so beautiful) and he says to me, "Sandy, stand here and I'll take your picture." And so I did and he kneels down to take my picture and the guide sees us and yells out, "Hey look everyone he's proposing!" and I spun around and was like "NO!" and this couple (elderly) behind us look at each other and the gentleman says to his wife, "Poor guy, to be rejected so publicly like that..."
Then we climbed the falls. They make you take off your shoes and put on these useless rubber shoe/sock things to protect your feet. Then we have to form a chain (in the tour group) holding hands and we follow the guide up the river. Only he got to be bare foot! Anyway, the guy ahead of me, he was French (lots of internationals on this trip, so cool) and traveling with his fiance. He looked kind of like Brian Austin Green but darker, cuter and shorter and he holds out his hand for me and I laughed and said, "Okay, but if I fall, you let go. I'm a big woman and I'll take you all down with me otherwise." He smiles and says, "No, mademoiselle I will not let go and I will not let you fall." Poor man. So up we started and I was doing okay. Then the falling began. The first fall I got a nasty bruise on my knee and shin (and after that the French guy learned to let go), then I fell and nearly broke my ankle. So after that I kind of struck out on my own. It was still jolly fun and I was still with the group, I just quit following the guide and was making my own way up. So I'm coming up and I turned to see how far I had come and my feet wooshed out from under me and I landed on my but! But I was laughing about it and the rest of the group was cheering and no big, right? So the guide hops over and shakes his finger in my face and says, "This what happen when you not follow the guide. Now you learn!" I just laughed and kept going. Then at the end, when he faced us and humbly asked us to remember him kindly and "treat" him well (this is the request for tip) I laughed, wagged my finger at his outstretched hand and said "This what happen when you are rude to customer, no tip!" He grinned at me.
The next day we swam with sting rays on the sand bar next to the reef of Grand Caymen Island. What amazing creatures. They were so graceful. The guide laughed at us and said, "If one touches you ladies and you scream, is okay, they underwater, they can't hear you!" They came at us like a huge dark cloud as we cast out anchor. Their skin felt smooth and slick and soft, but not slimy. They just glided around us and in between our legs. It was such a simple joy. One gentleman was feeding them some squid and then was standing next to his wife. He must have rubbed his hand over her back because the next thing we knew she was screaming and a ray had swum up her back sucking gently on it. Apparently these things can smell even the faintest trace of squid for up to a mile. The guide had warned us about "Sting Ray Hickeys" but there was nothing on her back, and she was fine, though her husband kept apologizing, loudly the whole way home.
Everyone on this trip was so polite and so friendly. I met several people and they were all so nice. On board ship I began taking yoga classes. Yoga is hard! Especially on a ship! Even the instructor grabbed a wall at one point. The ride itself was pretty smooth, but every once and a while there was a big toss. But the yoga was wonderful and while a workout was actually very relaxing in the evening.
I talk more about the other days later. For now, school calls.
After leaving school on Friday, completing errands that evening, driving all the way to Washington DC with Nana and dogs on Saturday, and flying into New York on Sunday morning I boarded the beautiful Norwegian Dawn in New York city.
The ship was huge and beautiful and very state of the art. We were given key cards that had all of our information on it and a picture so that we never had to carry money on board ship (they didn't take cash anywhere on ship even) we just used our card/key to charge our personal expense accounts. The ship had 3 main dining rooms that were full service and we could eat at for all meals (inside a wide time allotment... Dinner was 5:30-10:00 PM), an all day buffet, 5 specialty restaurants (reservations only and some had a cover charge) and there were snacks and special events all over too. There were also pubs, bars, lounges and an all night short order place too. There was live music everywhere. Pools and hot tubs, saunas, gyms, a spa to die for and a full theatre and cinema. It was like a floating resort/hotel/amusement park/retreat. Oh my!
Two days at sea while we got out of the cold US and into the Caribbean. Then our first stop was Jamaica. We went to Ocho Rios (which no one could explain to us. It means 8 rivers, but there are only four there...) There we saw the Green Grotto (a underground cavern system) and Dunn River Falls, a 900 feet high set of cascading water falls that you climb up. This day was an adventure for a few reasons.
My friend Mark was my traveling companion on this trip. We have been friends for years. Never more than that, nor will we ever be. We met in college at the Baptist Student Union and at our church there in Gainesville, Florida (home of the Gators, you know the Basketball Champions!!!!) He is now a dentist in the US AF out of Little Rock. This was our first trip of this caliber together. Anyway.
So we are climbing through the caves (they were so beautiful) and he says to me, "Sandy, stand here and I'll take your picture." And so I did and he kneels down to take my picture and the guide sees us and yells out, "Hey look everyone he's proposing!" and I spun around and was like "NO!" and this couple (elderly) behind us look at each other and the gentleman says to his wife, "Poor guy, to be rejected so publicly like that..."
Then we climbed the falls. They make you take off your shoes and put on these useless rubber shoe/sock things to protect your feet. Then we have to form a chain (in the tour group) holding hands and we follow the guide up the river. Only he got to be bare foot! Anyway, the guy ahead of me, he was French (lots of internationals on this trip, so cool) and traveling with his fiance. He looked kind of like Brian Austin Green but darker, cuter and shorter and he holds out his hand for me and I laughed and said, "Okay, but if I fall, you let go. I'm a big woman and I'll take you all down with me otherwise." He smiles and says, "No, mademoiselle I will not let go and I will not let you fall." Poor man. So up we started and I was doing okay. Then the falling began. The first fall I got a nasty bruise on my knee and shin (and after that the French guy learned to let go), then I fell and nearly broke my ankle. So after that I kind of struck out on my own. It was still jolly fun and I was still with the group, I just quit following the guide and was making my own way up. So I'm coming up and I turned to see how far I had come and my feet wooshed out from under me and I landed on my but! But I was laughing about it and the rest of the group was cheering and no big, right? So the guide hops over and shakes his finger in my face and says, "This what happen when you not follow the guide. Now you learn!" I just laughed and kept going. Then at the end, when he faced us and humbly asked us to remember him kindly and "treat" him well (this is the request for tip) I laughed, wagged my finger at his outstretched hand and said "This what happen when you are rude to customer, no tip!" He grinned at me.
The next day we swam with sting rays on the sand bar next to the reef of Grand Caymen Island. What amazing creatures. They were so graceful. The guide laughed at us and said, "If one touches you ladies and you scream, is okay, they underwater, they can't hear you!" They came at us like a huge dark cloud as we cast out anchor. Their skin felt smooth and slick and soft, but not slimy. They just glided around us and in between our legs. It was such a simple joy. One gentleman was feeding them some squid and then was standing next to his wife. He must have rubbed his hand over her back because the next thing we knew she was screaming and a ray had swum up her back sucking gently on it. Apparently these things can smell even the faintest trace of squid for up to a mile. The guide had warned us about "Sting Ray Hickeys" but there was nothing on her back, and she was fine, though her husband kept apologizing, loudly the whole way home.
Everyone on this trip was so polite and so friendly. I met several people and they were all so nice. On board ship I began taking yoga classes. Yoga is hard! Especially on a ship! Even the instructor grabbed a wall at one point. The ride itself was pretty smooth, but every once and a while there was a big toss. But the yoga was wonderful and while a workout was actually very relaxing in the evening.
I talk more about the other days later. For now, school calls.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
