Have I ever told you about . . . how to care for my dogs?

It's simple. Really. 

These are the instructions we left with Sarah’s friend Kesler the last time we went out of town. He graciously stayed at the house for us to keep track of these little creatures.

"Let me preface this by saying our dogs are just a tiny bit spoiled, particular, loud, and annoying.  They will bark at pretty much everything, shed a lot, have horrific (likely toxic) breath, and sometimes get poopy butts. They’re also very sweet, love to snuggle and be petted (except not Mante’s tail – don’t touch that, or you might die), they will miss you while you’re gone and prove it when you get back with their undying love.

Cooper (the one with the brown head):

·       Eats in the laundry room, next to the water

·       Gets ¼ to ⅓ of a can of Science Diet U/D in the white cans, for breakfast and for dinner

·       Has arthritis, so please give him one doggy aspirin each morning.  He can eat ½ at a time.  Mante can have a Kong treat (in the cupboard in the laundry room) when Cooper gets his medicine.

·       He is not allowed to lick anything except himself, because that’s gross. Okay, so they’re both gross. Just tell him, ‘Don’t lick’ and he should stop.

·       Cooper likes to chase balls and will bring them back to you.  Mante will try to interfere which could result in what looks and sounds like a fight to the death, so you probably won’t get very many throws before you have to stop.  :(

Mante (the one with the fluffy tail):

·       Eats in the kitchen, at the base of the cabinets next to the air return vent

·       Gets ⅓ to ½ of a can of Castor & Pollux, for breakfast and for dinner

·       He also needs two kinds of medicine once each day

­    Allergy medicine – ½ pill of Apoquel hidden in a little square of Kraft sliced cheese (they can each have a few bites of cheese without medicine, too)

­    Ear infection medicine – 4 drops of medicine dropped straight down into the dark part of each ear every morning, and then massage the base of his ears so it goes down into the canal.  It works best if you have him sit on the counter (he might stand up on your shoulder) - Just hold on to him so he doesn’t try to jump off. That would be bad. And, you’ll be covered with hair, so maybe pick a sweatshirt to wear every time and protect your clothes.  There’s a lint roller on the counter in the laundry room.  And, good luck catching him.  That might require trickery. :)

·       He is terrified of everything, all the time.  Don’t take it personally.

·       He is not allowed to lick his feet until they are raw, so please stop him if he starts going bald.  The Apoquel should help keep that in check.

·       Mante loves to chase anything that Cooper has, and likes to eat socks.  But, he will pull the strings off them and may choke, so please take away any socks that start to get shredded.  He also likes to randomly run through the house at full speed for no apparent reason.  If he does this, you can stomp your feet a little or clap and keep him going.  It’s kind of cute.

Other Stuff:

·       They usually eat dinner before we go to work, so around 6:00, but any time before 10:00 is fine.  They let you know it’s time for dinner and they’re starving to death at around 5:30.  Please heat up their food bowls after you fill them for about 20 seconds in the microwave.  Like I said, they’re a tiny bit spoiled.

·       They don’t like to eat with their collars on because they clank a lot but, if you take the off while they eat, please put them back on after in case they escape.

·       No people food (other than the cheese).  They will try hard to convince you otherwise.

·       There are water jugs in the laundry room that you can use to refill their water bowl.

·       They know these commands:

­     Go outside

­     Go potty

­     Hurry up

­     Get in the house

­     Get in your bed

­     Are you hungry, and Let’s eat

­     Sit

­     Stay

­     Probably lots of other stuff in French that we don’t know

·       Please keep them out of the bedrooms because they sometimes pee on random things.

·       Feel free to take them for walks, or not.  Cooper can’t go more than to the bottom of the hill and back or his leg will be sore, and he’s fat so he gets worn out quickly.

·       They both love to lie on blankets, and Mante prefers laying on your right side.  I know.  Don’t judge. 

·       They’re allowed on any couches or chairs, but no tables.

·       They sleep in the laundry room with the baby gate up.  When you’re ready, just say, ‘Get in your bed’ and they’ll run in there.  They can sleep with you, but they might bark or pee."

See?  Simple!

 Next time, I think I’ll just stay home.

Pray for Paris, Peace and Humanity - Day 7

Okay, so I'm a little late with Day 7.  Don't judge.

Today I say a prayer of thanks. I’m grateful to live in a place where I can receive quality dental care for a reasonable price. I’m grateful for a job that provides health insurance. I’m grateful for the people who are willing to spend years in school learning how to take care of my teeth, and for the educational system that allows them to do so. I pray for the extension of these ‘necessities’ (a.k.a. luxuries) to the rest of the world, in whatever fashion it can be afforded to them. Working in the healthcare industry for 25 years could very well have swayed my vote, but I believe that quality care for all parts of our bodies and minds is something that no living thing should do without.  After a trip to the dentist, I learned I have two cavities in my molars ~ my first in decades ~ and two more in my stubborn and wonky wisdom teeth. Since one of those is inaccessible due to the wise tooth’s sideways ascent into my jawbone, the dentist recommended removing the smarties and filling the molars.  So, I took the plunge and scheduled my appointment for December 11. (That will be another post.) Wish me luck.

In the meantime, we gear up for Thanksgiving. I read my blog from last year, and it still rings true, so I’ll share it again, with a few timely revisions, as Thanksgiving Revisited.

Thanksgiving Revisited

I posted this last year, but it still rings true with a few timely revisions.

It’s interesting to me that we can be sort-of programmed to do certain things at certain times. Take today, for example. It’s the last Thursday of November. Pretty much anyone in the United States of America can tell you the significance of this day. It’s Thanksgiving, of course. Since we were children, we can remember mom getting up early putting a turkey in the oven, spending hours and hours and hours making mashed potatoes, and stuffing, and twelve or six or two different side dishes, and rolls, and pies. Tables were set. Music was played. Guests were dressed up. Wine was poured. Toasts were made. Dinner was served.

But why? What is the significance of this day? This moment?

Are we practicing a religious celebration? Nope. Are we expressing our love toward our one and only? Nope. Are we recognizing one of our Country’s great current or historical leaders, or fallen soldiers, or national freedom? Nope. Are we copying historical events? Kind-of. We’re probably copying our mom’s, if nothing else.

Although Thanksgiving has turned into a very different one than that of centuries past, the tradition has remained. The original celebrators were thankful for their successful harvest. Ummm . . . I could kill a plastic plant. I have no culinary harvest. I don’t grow corn like the Wampanoag Indians. I don’t catch my own fish, or shoot my own deer, or milk my own cow like the Pilgrims.

My harvest is different.

My harvest is my husband, who is my rock, who makes me insane, who is sarcastic and funny, who has been a part of my life longer than he wasn’t, who is so freaking smart it scares me a little, and who knows just how to hug me so I can feel the fear, or pain, or anger leaving my body with a deep breath.

It’s my children, who were wanted more than words can ever express, who have made me laugh, and cry, and scream, and sing, and dance, and never question, and unwaveringly defend, and pray, and create, and love.

It’s my parents who raised me to expect more of myself tomorrow than I gave today, who taught me to be hopeful, and forgiving, and humble.

It’s my brothers and sister, who teased me, tickled me, gave me advice and rides, and loved me no matter what was happening in our collective or individual lives. And it’s the knowledge that I will see the lost one again one day.

It’s my friends who are emotionally close and logistically way too far, and the ones who are logistically close but I’ve struggled to let myself know.

It's my dogs who bark too much, get poopy-butts, need allergy medicine, and nearly die from excitement when I walk in the door, who can't wait for me to sit down so they can jump on my lap, who wait patiently through the night to see me the next day.

It’s my house that is messy, disorganized, not fully decorated the way I want, expensive, warm, filled with photos, and memories, and love, and the place where my husband and children come home to me.

It’s my job that I don’t usually look forward to going to, but enjoy once I get there, and the paycheck that results.

It’s my car that I hated writing a check for, resent paying the gas and insurance for, am frustrated to repair, and that gets me safely and unfailingly wherever I ask it to.

It’s the fresh food that I am too tired and lazy to go to the well-lit, plentifully stocked grocery store to buy, and even more unenthused to cook.

It’s the education that never seems to end, that eats up too much time, that is hard and expensive and rewarding and exciting, and will allow me to finally be a teacher.

My harvest is my hopes and dreams, which I am allowed to have because I was raised in a country protected by volunteers and led by visionaries, soldiers and leaders who have guided us through large and small battles to ensure that I can wake up every day, in my warm home, with my loving husband and children, and go to work, in my car, to make money to buy food, and celebrate Thanksgiving with family and friends.

Even though we have lost so many people that we loved in the past few years, it’s okay to be thankful. In fact, we must be. We must recognize what we have, and loudly appreciate it ~ The people around us, and the people who have left us, because each one has given us a piece of who we are today. As cliché as it sounds, we would not be who we are today without their presence in our lives. We must take full advantage of every opportunity that we are presented with, because that’s what freedom means. We must not let one minute of our life pass without it having the significance it deserves.

We’re programmed to do that on Thanksgiving. But, today I realized that every day should be one for giving thanks.

Pray for Paris, Peace and Humanity – Day 6

Tonight we're doing something. Something interesting, unique, and a little scary. We're going to the Statewide Annual ’15 Craft, Photography, Video & Digital Works Gallery Stroll. A piece (or maybe 2 or 3 or 10) of my nephew's artwork will be displayed. I'm excited to see all of the various perspectives on the world. My nephew’s work is a sort of photographic collage. I love it. Okay, it's an obsession. I own several pieces ~ from his beach series, his stage series, and his subway series. They’re strategically placed throughout my house, some hung, some still waiting to be hung. (That’s another post.)

My nephew, Chris, won’t be there, but his widow will. 

Although, I suspect, he will be near, watching, appreciating, beaming with pride, and love, and loss.

I believe that all of our lost ones are doing this. Watching. Close. Guiding us. Laughing with us when we stumble, crying with us when we hurt, showing themselves in thoughtful, mysterious glimpses. We grieve for them. It never goes away. They are bricks in our pockets. More are lost, and the grief compounds. Family, friends, strangers. Some make the news, most don’t. None are less important, none carry less weight for those left behind. The loss of anyone is a loss to someone. Someone’s spouse. Someone’s child. Someone’s world.

The seemingly senseless killing of late by terrorists leaves me grieving not only for those lost, but for those left. For the brothers and sisters, moms and dads, children, aunts and uncles, grandparents, friends, coworkers, and countless other relations, close and distant in proximity and connection. Innocent people who had never encountered those pulling the trigger. Who didn’t make the legislative decisions that brought war to a foreign place. Who were sitting, eating, watching, listening, without a care in the world. Who don't share the religious views and desire for martyrdom of those standing before them. Who were without the ominous foresight that their end was coming. 

For those who were left, I’m sorry for your loss. I wish I knew what to do to create a world in which killing wasn’t arbitrary, and daily. I pray their death was swift, that a purpose comes from it, and that they had no regrets.

 www.theguardian.com

Hug your children. Say your I’m sorry’s. Catch up on your I love you’s. Let things go. Forgive. Love. Pray. Peace will come ~ If not for the world, for your world.

Pray for Paris, Peace and Humanity – Day 5

As I drove into work today, the sky was particularly brilliant, breathtaking, mysterious, and ominous, and I wondered what it meant.

Over the past couple of years, as we've given new angels to Heaven, mornings after have invariably led to amazing sunrises. It was as if those who were waiting for our loved one beyond the veil were expressing their gratitude to us - for loving them while they were here, and for giving them back. 

I've heard that sunrises symbolize the retreating darkness and prevailing light.  That's a nice thought. Of course, that's not what it really is. It's just us, spinning around and around and around. The sun is consistent, stable, unwavering, trustworthy, brilliant. It's us, our lives, our world ~ and our worlds ~ that won’t stand still.

Why don't we stop spinning? Why don't we shift on our axis? What categorically horrific thing would happen to civilization as we know it if we did?

I challenge us to think that we can.  In fact, we must.

We must stop spinning around in circles, in a never-ending cycle.  We must shift on our axis. We must look for new opportunities of growth, new challenges to our thinking and our belief and our mindset.

We must symbolize retreating darkness and prevailing light.

Stop the negative thoughts as they being to form.

Take a breath and consider what we say.  (As I used to tell my kids, use your head before you use your mouth.)

Wait 10 seconds to evaluate our next action.

Volunteer.

Give.

Recycle.

Teach.

Lead.

Love.

We must believe that, if we stop spinning, if we shift on our axis, if we grow, and learn, and change, a categorically wonderful thing will happen to civilization as we know it.

Today I pray that we will be a sunrise.

Pray for Paris, Peace and Humanity – Day 4

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful and vast Kingdom ruled by a wise and omniscient King. The King smiled upon the land, and it was rich and fertile, the air and water fresh and abundant, the diverse animals fat and happy, and the people cognizant and appreciative of their many blessings. Resources were respected and preserved. Ideas flowed freely between the adults, without guile or judgment. Children were recognized as the Kingdom’s future, and were encouraged and supported, allowed to reach for their dreams and develop their own beliefs. For thousands upon thousands of years, the Kingdom continued to flourish under the rule of the One Wise King.

At their conception, the people were given a gift from the King ~ the will to choose. He wanted them to choose Him, to choose right, to choose love. But he knew that they would not. True to His vision, the people became clouded, selfish, greedy. They lived each day certain there would be another. They used more resources than they replaced, calling them possessions. They dirtied the air and polluted the water in an attempt to make life more convenient. They killed the animals simply for entertainment, sending a multitude of species to extinction. And they turned against one another. The people of the Kingdom began to judge one person’s worth over another, one person’s decisions over another, one person’s belief over another. They spoke angrily, acted viciously. Neighbors turned on neighbors. Family turned on family. Children were viewed with lesser importance and treated cruelly, without love, their value underestimated, unremembered. The people used their will to destroy what once was precious ~ Life in the Kingdom.

The King was sad. He gave His people everything they could ever need, but their desires continued to grow. His Grace wasn’t enough for them. The King tried to stay in the hearts of his people, and guide them with his Word. But they didn’t listen. They made up their own rules and called them His. They wrote their own prophecies and called them His. They divided and conquered one another. They turned on Him.

The King was not an unforgiving King, and he waited and waited for the people to change their ways, to return to His love. But their hatred grew, and he promised vengeance against those who lived in sin and did not repent.

One day, in the Kingdom’s future chapters which are yet to be written, the King will seek that vengeance, and the evil ones will fall. What will happen to the Kingdom and its inhabitants after that day is unknown. The only way for the people to ensure they will survive His wrath and live with their beloved King once more, is to turn from evil, and turn to Him.

And so we wait . . .

Pray for Paris, Peace, and Humanity - Day 3

Day 3. I’m back to work after my CT scan which, thankfully, did not take the hour-and-a-half that the registrar predicted. In 15 short minutes, I was in and out, and my headache and I were on our way to work. As the collective prayer time approaches, I read of a college closed for threatening activity, a 4-year old killed in a road rage accident, the rape of an 11-year old, a lion that took down an antelope on a tourist-filled road, and I grieve for them. I read a hateful and damning message on my niece’s Facebook page and ache over her hardened heart. I worry about my health, my children’s safety, my family’s well-being, my husband’s happiness. I pray for peace. I pray for humanity. I pray for the world. Soften our hearts, Lord. Hear our pleas for Your grace. Walk beside us as we navigate this ungodly earth. Lead us toward You, God, and away from the hatred and evil that is quickly taking us over.

Pray for Paris, Peace, and Humanity - Day 2

Day 2 was a bust.  Well, kind of.  At the appointed collective praying time, I was waiting in line at the pharmacy. I’d spent the morning at the doctor’s office for unexplained recurring headaches, the last of which knocked me on my arse for 4 days. Since I don’t have typical migraine symptoms but have had increasing memory lapses and decreasing vision and hearing, the darling 14ish-year-old physician’s assistant, Saba Eslami, supposed they were tension headaches caused by stress, lack of sleep, etc. But, to be safe, she referred me for a CT scan of my brain. Not daunting at all. In the meantime, she prescribed 500 mg Naproxen, which I can take up to 2 of every 12 hours. After waiting 30 minutes in my warm car and unsuccessfully retrieving my prescription, I returned home to snuggle up in a minky blanket and OD on Netflix and leftover pasta. It struck me then that I truly have only first-world problems. In response to a relatively minor physical ailment, I took the day off my job, drove myself to a doctor who was affordable and accessible and for whom I have a well-provisioned health insurance plan to cover. I received prescription medication. I was referred for further evaluation. I was in a warm home, on a soft couch, eating filling food and drinking clean water. Despite my pain, I was humbled. I am truly blessed, and am thankful and honored to live in America, where I am free to go to the doctor, and provide for my family, and eat and drink and pray.

Pray for Paris, Peace, and Humanity

It's the first of seven consecutive "collective praying events" set up by a random stranger imploring the world to pray for peace, humanity, and Paris. On Friday, Paris was ravaged by seven terrorist acts, planned to be carried out simultaneously, by ISIS, the Islamic State, the latest in the world's bullies who seek to instill fear and loathing around the world. This Google search shows today's latest:  Paris Attacks.

I've decided to spend my reflection time blogging about how I feel about the world.  It's a snippet in time, a momentary but honest statement.

I'm continually disheartened by the lack of humanity among humanity. We will be our own demise.  We will bring about the end of our own species, just as we've brought about the end of countless others. It seems that there are daily reminders of the growing hatred among us. The growing fear among us. The growing intolerance among us. 

I'm continually embarrassed to associate myself with humanity. Why can't I be like a dragonfly? Peacefully flying through my world, dipping and diving with the current, landing when I'm tired, lifting when I'm ready, living, unencumbered, without guile, without weight, without feeling.  Why am I so bothered by dead deer, and ostracized children, and abused animals, and poached lions?  Why am I so weighed down with the starving children in Africa, and the tsunami victims in Asia, and the futility of preparing for 'the big one', and people running stop signs, and the dismembered suicide bombers who are acting in a way that they believe to be right. Where is the peace? Where is the humanity?  Where are the prayers?  Is everyone just doing what they believe to be right?  Is that the answer?  To let them?

Maybe, to give clarity to the world's choices, I need to find clarity in my own.  Maybe I need to take time to find out how I can be a better person, how I can be more humane, how I can find my own peace.  I think that if I did that, and you did that, and they did that, only then might the world see calm, and love, and brotherhood.  That's what I believe.  That's my prayer.

Is it still recurring if it's different?

Dreams are weird. For those who know me, really know me, it's no surprise that I have an hours-long, colorful, noisy, temperature-laden, and emotionally-full nighttime cinema going on in my head every night. Honestly, it’s amazing that I don’t wake up more exhausted than I was when I went to sleep. Oh, wait. That happens. Some of the time I remember what the movie was about. Lots of times I don’t. Occasionally, the dreams are so moving, or scary, or mind-bending, that I remember them forever.

Like the one in which I first met my daughter, before she was even a twinkle, when she visited me as a two-year old, standing in my lit hallway in the middle of the night, wearing her blue nightie with her blonde tousled hair, and then turning to walk down the stairs. I didn’t remember that movie until she was actually a two-year old, standing in the exact same spot, wearing the exact same thing, with the exact same blonde tousled hair.

Or the one in which I sit up in bed to see an old-fashioned, white wicker baby pram rolling upside-down across my ceiling.

Or the one in which I wake up to find an Indian warrior in full feather headdress standing at my bedside watching me sleep. I could smell the charcoal fire and sweat, see the glisten and depth in his eyes, feel his warmth, and I was unafraid.

Or the time I thought someone was crawling in my bedroom window as a teenager. I was afraid.

Or the time I woke up screaming, only to be led into the bathroom by my mom to get some water, and relive the entire dream that involved pulling back the shower curtain to find her dead in the tub.

Or the one after my brother died when I knocked and knocked and knocked on my best friend’s door, only to figure out I was at the wrong house. When I turned around, I saw a neighbor, whom I have not had contact with since our move away from Colorado, standing in the driveway hugging Greg.

I used to dream all the time about rescuing people or animals, being the first to arrive at car accidents, pulling kids out of water, salvaging relationships. After my brother died, I began having dreams where I needed to be rescued. Like the time I was hiding in closets and running through an abandoned house with creaky floors, broken windows, and a carpet of dead bugs and leaves, and then through a snow-covered and wooded yard, trying to escape my brothers who were playing some sort of a game where I was the prey, and they were both coming after me with a knife.

But, from as far back as I can remember (I assume since high school), I’ve had one dream time and time again.  I am in high school (thus my assumption), it’s the first day, and I’ve lost my schedule. I have no idea where to go, when to be there, or how to find my locker. Instead of spending the day in class, making friends and learning about fractions and government systems, I’m wandering hallways, running between buildings as loose papers flew around the empty concrete pathways, and waiting in and endless line at the counselor’s office. I never make it to class before the bell rings. I had this one a lot, and consider it my recurring dream.

Tomorrow I start my final task in school before student teaching commences next fall. I will be observing in classrooms for a total of 60 hours, watching how the teacher interacts with the kids, evaluating her classroom management techniques, and even teaching or helping to teach lessons to the kids. Last night, I had my recurring dream, but it was different. Is it still recurring if it's different?

This time I was a student teacher (go figure) arriving for my first day. The school was spread over a large piece of land, as was the school of my youth, incidentally. In fact, lockers were quite a distance, requiring driving. I checked in with the classroom teacher I was to be working with, and realized I’d left all of my materials in my ‘locker.’ I started the long drive to the other building, only to get hopelessly lost, having strange encounters with random strangers and family members, going in and out of doors, peeking in windows, and never finding what I needed. When I finally made it back to the classroom, without said materials, it was empty. It was then that I remembered there was to be a ‘first-day potluck’ in another building. But I hadn’t told the family, who had traveled with me to the unknown location of this school and was waiting patiently in a hotel room. I tried and tried to call, never reaching anyone, so I headed to the potluck with a sense of mom-radar dread. As I hesitatingly mingled and tried to meet other members of the staff without seeming like a worried drama queen, my pocket finally buzzed. As soon as I heard Dave’s voice, I knew that the world was right, and that everything would be okay. And then I woke up.

Life . . . Gibson Style

We’re all good. No major catastrophes that I can think of. No car accidents, no illness, no water main breaks or forest fires. Hahaha. 

Sarah is busy at work, three 13-hour shifts per week, and is liking her nursing classes a lot.  She has simulation lab every Thursday, with super high-tech mannequins that have heartbeats and breathe and bleed.  They practice IVs and catheters and stuff on them.  She has a lecture class every Friday.  Both of those go from 8-5.  Then, periodically on Wednesday, she has ‘clinicals’ where she shadows a nurse for the day in a different type of facility, depending on what they’re studying at the time.  Last time and tomorrow are at a nursing home.  She really likes that.  Comes home with all kinds of funny, sad, and interesting stories. She has a new horse to ride (not to own) at the barn named Canella (sp?). He's huge, especially next to that tiny girl, but is a gentle giant and aims to please.

Brian hates his job but loves his paycheck.  A few months ago he took a series of classes to get certified as a swim instructor, so he may try to do more of that.  He loves his film class, likes math (“because he wants to know how to do it”), and isn’t too excited about history or English (“because he already knows it”).  He’s doing really well, so that’s good.  Can’t figure out how to get him to quit leaving his homework until the night before. Then he’s asking me at 10:00 at night, when I’m ready for bed and wiped out, to help him figure out how to multiply and reduce a mixed fraction with two variables.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Funny kid.  A few weeks ago we went to a local theater for a marathon movie night, watching all three Back to the Future movies in a row.  I guess 10/21/15 was the day the character travelled ‘back to the future”.  Man were our butts sore!  Hahaha.

Mom and Dad are doing well.  Brian and I took mom to dinner and to see ‘The Intern’ with Robert De Niro and Anne Hathaway for her birthday.  It was really cute.  I would recommend it.  She could really relate (and so could I!) to being “older” in the workforce and trying to keep up with these young whippersnappers.  Dad and I had a lot of fun on our date to the art show.  He tired quickly, and we only got through 3 of the 7 very crowded floors.  I bet there were 1,000+ people there.  Many of the artists were with their work to talk to fans and potential customers, but you could hardly get to them through the crowds.  He still enjoyed it, and seemed to get a little second wind recognizing, in his words, how good he was and what a great life he has had.  

A funny thing happened before Halloween.  We went to the pumpkin patch – probably the last time my kids will want to go, mind you – took forever to pick out the perfect pumpkins, did the apple grenades, took pictures of them in the hay maze (it was like 8” tall), saw the tiny piglets at the petting zoo, and then went into the little farm market to pay.  When we came out, someone had taken our wheelbarrow full of pumpkins!  AHHHH!  We were so sad!  I’ve got to stop after work now and get new ones.  Drat. They were so lovingly selected.  The sad thing is, whoever took it, ended up with the wrong ones, too!  I hope they didn’t have a little one who was so sad that their special pumpkin wasn’t in the bunch.  

We put out a ‘teal pumpkin’.  Have you heard of that?  You put one up outside (a real one or a photo) if you have a non-food option for kids with allergies.  There’s a kid in our neighborhood who does, and his mom has asked people to participate.  I got glow-stuff – necklaces, bracelets, sabers, butterfly wands. It was cute.  There were quite a few kids who opted for the non-food option.

John Thomas’ service was very nice.  We all drove out Wednesday after Sarah got done with her clinicals, staying ½ way and arriving around 1 p.m. on Thursday. It’s always good to see the family.  It was heart wrenching, though. Shannon had a lovely memorial with photo boards and lots of his favorite things, along with all the flowers and cards from well-wishers.  There was a great board with all of the stuff from when they adopted him.  We cried a lot and drank too much.  Sarah flew home Friday morning to get to school, and Dave, Brian and I drove home Saturday. All in all, it worked out okay. 

 

One of Sarah’s friend’s, Kesler, stayed at the house for us and watched the dogs. That was a relief, and much cheaper than a kennel.

It’s sooooooo quiet at work. I don’t know if I told you (I think I did??) that my responsibilities were changed after I got back from my surgery leave, and I lost a lot of the really fun things I did – teaching the classes, leading the administrative support team, overseeing our peer mentoring program. So, I’ve been relegated to being a task-doer, having to wait until my boss hands me the next thing to do.  Nothing of my own to handle.  Plus I’m being heavily scrutinized about overtime, punching in and out, and tracking whether or not I get stuff done on time.  It’s pretty much like fifth grade.  I know.  First-world problem.  I am truly grateful to have a job, and it is a great company to work for.  It sucks that I’m so slow that I could just about fall asleep at my desk most of the time, but it’s low stress and fairly temporary.  Now that school is ramping up as I get closer to graduation, it’s not so bad having less stress at work. But, alas, that makes me sit here thinking of everything I could be doing if I weren’t sitting here!  I just started my new term.  While I was on a “term break”, meaning I was done with my classes for the last term but my new one hadn’t started yet, I worked on getting assignments ready to turn in when the new term started, which I have been doing this week.  I’ve passed off 6 of my 12 credits in 5 days.  J  I’ve also finished a bunch of prep work for my student teaching – background check, fingerprints, photo “student-teacher” ID, licensure testing, liability insurance, etc.  Besides the assignments this term, I’ll be conducting 60 observation hours in a classroom.  I’ll split it into four-hour chunks, and split the time between three local elementary schools.  My first one is tomorrow.  I can’t believe I’ll be in a classroom student teaching in 10 months!  Of course, that’s just temporary, 12 weeks, but it’s still exciting.  Then I’ll have a really good idea of whether I want to be in a classroom, or if I want to do corporate training or something like that.

I was listening to ‘The Testament’ by John Grisham during my commute.  Couldn’t get into the narrator’s voice. It does seems like it would be a good one to read, though. Very interesting premise about a rich old man who writes a last-minute will just before he jumps off a balcony, leaving all of his $11 billion fortune to an unknown child from a long-ago affair who is a missionary in a remote village in Africa. I just finished ‘The Longest Ride’ by Nicholas Sparks, which I LOVED.  It switched between a college senior girl and a 91-year old man. There was a delicious twist at the end.  I highly recommend it.  Now I’ve just begun listening to ‘The Girl on the Train.’  One disc in and I’m hooked. 

And, I'll close with this:

"It's not a homeless life for me, it's just I'm home less than I'd like to be." ~ Ed Sheeran