Making some Christmas Cheer

We had a great time painting sugar cookies with Ben's mom and grandmother and my younger sibs!

Pictures from Patrick's Wedding

Over the river and through the woods...

Here are some photos from our trip to Wilkesboro, NC. We had a great time visiting, and are looking forward to traveling back at Christmas time for a family reunion.

Thanksgiving Favorites Include:

*Seeing Granny looking so well and energetic.
*Playing cards with everyone.
*Listening to music played by Dad, Papa, and close friends Lynn, Donny, and Jimmy
*Thanksgiving dinner, of course. Complete with a turkey roasting pot full of homemade macaroni and cheese (Granny doesn't cook in small amounts)
*Running with Rufus through field and pasture
*Fillets and twice-baked potatoes, both cooked to perfection on Saturday night.
*Traveling with Ben's sister Sarah, and listening to Ender in Exile
* Visiting, relaxing, laughing, and talking around the fire.

Pants

Does anyone else seem to notice the deflation of pant sizes? I went shopping for pants the other day, after throwing out the ones that don't really fit well anymore, or have dry erase marker stains on them, and was shocked at my size.

I'm not complaining, just surprised. I mean, my weight and body shape haven't really changed since high school, but my pant size has gone steadily down. I think the same probably goes for shirts and skirts, too. I just haven't bought a pair of dress trousers in a while, so the size difference was shocking.

What does that say about our society when there is such a thing as a size "0" and a size "00"? Is it to boost self-esteem? Is it to sell more pants? That must be it. I can see how being pleasantly surprised at a new, smaller pant size could make you want to buy more.

Sometimes I wish women's sizing was done more like men's. So much more clear-cut.

Commonly Misspelled Words

There are some words that people consistently have a hard time spelling. Like calendar, separate, column, correspondence, and vacuum.

Or Yakima. Not Yacama (please refer to my previous post).

Which is why when my Teacher Assistant, Beth, Googled for "Yacama," although I think she spelled it even differently than I thought it might be spelled, there was not a result. However Yakima is a city. In Washington. Near Seattle. And apparently, iCarly is set there. Thank you to Amy Hopper, researcher extraordinaire :)

So I stand wholly corrected.

Well, not totally, because I was right in telling my class that it is not a state or country. And it's also not in the desert.
I stand partially corrected. Okay, fine. I should have done a little more research before lecturing the kids on fiction versus reality. Jumped the gun on that one.

Now the real question is...should I tell the kids? Because here's the deal, I know what most of you are probably thinking. That kids should see adults make and admit mistakes gracefully and graciously. I believe in this too, I really do. There's nothing worse than a person who can't admit a mistake.

Here's what you might not know if you haven't been in a classroom of 20 eight-year-olds recently: If you (the authority) make and admit mistakes (which I do frequently) they will try to "catch" you making other mistakes and point them out incessantly until I use my mean voice and let them know that they are being rude.

Mrs. Taylor, did you mean to make your "a" that way?
Mrs. Taylor, did you mean to write "30" instead of "31"?
Mrs. Taylor, did you forget to give us our snack?
Mrs. Taylor, did you forget to properly enunciate the last consonant digraph in the word "four hundredth"?

It does not cease. And it typically gets a little attitude added in. Like a "too many kids too big for their britches" type of attitude.

But still. This mistake has a geographical (and potentially a spelling) lesson attached to it. I'll be gracious; I'll be graceful. I can admit when I'm wrong.

I'll just to need to brace myself for the interruptions that only twenty self-assured children can bring.

Sunbleached in Yacama...

It's a sign of the times, so to speak. Or a sign of my times, perhaps. My kids at school are making references to things I have no clue about. Due to my wonderful little siblings, I feel like I tend to stay pretty on top of kiddie pop culture. I usually know what my second graders are referencing when they talk about "Webkinz" or "Wii Sports." A few weeks ago, however, I was completely and utterly flabbergasted.

We were finishing our literature study about the desert. We had talked about animals and plants in the desert, cold and hot deserts, where deserts are found in the world, and on and on. In connection with this study, we were briefly discussing where to go to find out more information about the desert. The discussion went like this.

Me: Kids, if we wanted to know more about the desert, where could we go to look for more information?

Kids: The library. Books. Online. The Computer. Texas. Yacama.

Me, after processing that last statement: Yacama? What's that?

Kids, more and more joining in and nodding: Yeah, Yacama! It's like a state. Or a city. No, I think it's a country. Yeah, a country.

Me: No....Yacama's definitely not a state or a country. What is it? Where have you heard of this?

I look to the teacher assistant to find the same incredulous, clueless look that I have. More and more kids meanwhile, are nodding to each other and agreeing that Yacama would be the place to go to find out more about the desert.

Kids: Yacama, Mrs. Taylor. You know, from i-Carly.

Me, after another processing delay: What in the world is i-Carly???

Kids: You don't watch i-Carly, Mrs. Taylor???

Beth (my TA) who has now realized that she's heard of this show: She's a grown-up, kids.

So apparently, i-Carly is a show on Nickelodeon. A show geared toward pre-teens and young teenagers which is why my precious little siblings have not seen it. Which is why I haven't heard of it. And apparently, this Carly on one particular episode was or might be moving to a fictional town called Yacama. Which is where this whole train wreck about gathering more information got started.

Another sign that I am out of step with what second graders know happened a few weeks later. I was reading them some writing that I did about the poodle biting incident (you can read about it here if you haven't yet) and describing to them why Mr. and Mrs. Leather had that particular nickname. I was careful to indicate that it was not because of any natural skin tone of any kind, but a result of them being in the sun all hours of the day without sunscreen on, thus promoting the reddish brown skin of one who needs some aloe in a serious way.

Here's how this discussion went:

Me: And that's why we nicknamed them "Mr. and Mrs. Leather."

Kid: Oh, so they were sunbleached.

Me: Yeah, sort- wait, did you say sun - bleached?

Kids, more of them nodding: Yeah, you know, sunbleached.

Me: I think you mean sunburned.

Kids: Nope. Sunbleached. Like, from Spongebob.

For the second time that month, we had to have the discussion about fiction and nonfiction on television. I basically told them that if it's not Animal Planet, Discovery, or PBS, it's probably fiction. That sometimes fiction can be realistic, but Hannah Montanna is not a real person, she's a character. There's an actress acting like a person named Hannah Montanna, and it's all pretend just like when they pretend they are explorers, Jedis, or princesses for crying out loud.

So the next time you're in Yacama, finding out about the desert, please for goodness sake, wear some sunscreen so you don't get sunbleached.

The Work and School Thing

So, I've decided that perhaps blogging about water in the soap is not the best topic if I want people to actually read this. I mean, really.
We originally intended for this blog to be one where we updated consistently about the wonderful and exciting things happening in our life. Maybe we don't do as many exciting things as we thought when we started this blog. I notice, for example, that whenever Ben talks to some of his family who doesn't live here, and they ask how things are going for us, he always says something like, "Oh, you know. Just doing the work and school thing."

That pretty much sums it up. The work and school thing. Maybe there are some work and school things that might be of note. That other people might want to know about.

For example, right now, Ben is about to embark on his fourth hour of studying for midterms/working on a huge project. That leaves me moping around. I've already practiced piano, watched The King and I on AMC, read the latest issue of Runners World and NEA Magazine, taken my Sunday nap, and talked on the phone to my friend.

I need a hobby. It always gets to this point somewhere mid-semester for me, when I begin to pout about my solitary evenings and watch mind-numbing television on the couch. Being the spouse of a person in school full-time is no picnic. Why don't I just do my own things? There are tons of productive, interesting things I could be doing, I'm sure.

Like finishing the last two kitchen chairs that need to be painted. Or going to the library and checking out a few books I've been meaning to read. Giving myself a manicure and pedicure, starting a new load of laundry, cleaning out the guest room closet. "Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera," to borrow a line from the movie I watched today.

Part of it is that I'm a little lazy. I don't like to do projects after dark. Unless I've started one in the daylight, which I clearly haven't today. Part of it is that what I'd really rather do, is spend time with Ben. I'd be happy to clean out a closet with him. Or paint chairs, or do laundry. It's kind of like living with someone who has work schedule that is totally wacky, or is out of town. Or who is a hermit. Except that he is there - just unavailable for conversation or activity.

Now I'm complaining. That's not going to induce anyone to carry on reading any more than my last "water in the soap" post. So I'll do what I know will help me to feel better.

Here are ten things I am grateful for about my current situation:

1. Ben cares about school and wants to do well at the things he does. This translates into everything he does, including mowing the lawn, cleaning the stove top, and communicating with me.

2. It's a cool night in October, and I am comfortably wrapped in a blanket on my couch.

3. We are healthy and happy with each other.

4. We both have jobs and are able to live within our means quite comfortably.

5. We have no debt other than house and school loans. Oh wait, and one car, which is soon to be paid off.

6. I have gently started running again, on flat surfaces only, walking up the hills, and it feels great. I did four miles on Friday morning, finishing with no pain, only a slight blister on my arch.

7. I have a week off for Fall Break this week, and have a few projects in mind. Plus the luxury of being able to exercise in the mornings instead of after work. Glorious!

8. We have a new mower (finally) and I was able to mow the lawn yesterday so that Ben could get in a few hours of study time without me bugging him.

9. Our cars work, and so do the appliances in our house. Knock on wood. Loudly.

10. We have everything we need and want to live a safe, healthy, comfortable life.

I am grateful for those things and a lot more. So, the work and school thing isn't bad. It's good, it could be a lot worse, and I need to remember that.

Any ideas for new hobbies I could reasonably start would be appreciated. Basket weaving perhaps...

Soap Mystery

I had several ideas for titles for this post, and opted for the most concise. I had considered "Bathroom Mystery" but Ben said that sounded too vulgar. His suggestions, "The Appearance of Cleanliness is Next to..." or "Sharing a bathroom" or "Funny Business in the Bathroom" (wait, that's also weird).
Another option for the title was, "What kind of numbskull puts water in the bathroom soap?" but I decided that was too angry sounding. You'll understand once I tell you what's been happening.

At work, we have three bathrooms for adults. That means if you have to go during peak times (after dropping kids off in the cafeteria for example) you may have to wait a minute. Anyway, we've always had a good supply of hand soap in there. Nothing fancy, just your average Dial handsoap that makes your hands feel really dry after you've wiped them on a brown paper towel. Kind of like you just rubbed your hands all over some dusty cardboard.

Well, the soap started getting low, I noticed a few weeks ago. To the point where you had to pump the handle a few times to get a little squirt to come out. Then one day, someone (I'm assuming the custodian) refilled it. I reached out to get some soap and it squirted straight out, onto my shirt. I then noticed that whoever refilled it, used not the Dial dryhands refill, but water instead. Ahh...the good ol' concentration of 10% soap, 90% water.

We apparently kept on like this for several days because the level started to go down. Then, last week, it was filled again with - you guessed it - more water. So now, it was like 2% soap and 98% water. Do your hands actually get clean at that point? I mean, I'm not germaphobic or anything, but it's pretty unsatisfying. This continued all last week, continuous refills of water.

So on Monday, I was delighted to find alongside the Dial-dryhands-watersoap, a new bottle of the same orange looking soap. Real soap! What a luxury! I had almost forgotten what it feels like to have some bubbles and lather when you rub your hands together under the water - oh, the joy of it all! But guess what happened...

After ONE day, I kid you not, ONE DAY of using the new soap bottle, it was refilled with water. Imagine my sadness and disappointment to come into the bathroom on Tuesday to see that oh-so-familiar dilluted color of watery soap. I think I actually spoke out loud to myself upon noticing that. "What the....?"

Who would do that???? And why? Is it so hard to refill the soap bottle once a month when it runs out? Surely that would be a total of less work that refilling it with water EVERY DAY.

I haven't said anything to anyone. Who do I talk to about that? I'm sure my principal would just love to deal with that. I guess I should just ask the custodian. Although...it's almost more amusing to see how long it'll continue. And here's the funny part. That's only the case in one of the three bathrooms. The rest of them have normal, make you skin feel like the Sahara, non-watered-down soap.

Oh, those teachers on the other end of the school building. They just don't know how lucky they are.

Mr. Leather and Mr. Grouch

Our neighbors are moving. These are the neighbors that live at the end of our neighborhood, the last house on the back entrance of cookie cutter houses that look pretty much just like ours.
We don't know them very well. In fact, not at all, because the woman who lives in that house, we've never actually seen outside before (just a glimmer of her shadow in the garage) and her husband is a grouch. Mr. Grouch.
I feel a little like I probably shouldn't call him that, but I don't know his real name, and he is pretty grouchy.

For example:
Whenever I've passed him on the street, whether it be running, jogging, walking, or biking, he turns his back to me. "Maybe it's a coincidence," you might say, "maybe he's just shy." Well, get this - when I greet him, I am met only by stony silence as he exhales his cigarette smoke and holds on to the loose end of his dog's leash.
I've tried to feel sympathetic toward him. Maybe he's totally depressed. Maybe he's intensely shy. Perhaps my greetings have offended him.
I don't know. But his total non responsiveness makes me want to say something every time I pass him, just in case this time it'll be different.

Another example:
He growls at his dog. Mr. Grouch has a small, white, fluffy dog who takes him on a walk a few times a day. I'm not sure of the point of this walk, except maybe to help the dog get some fresh air. They're definitely not getting any exercise. Here is how their walk goes. Mr. Grouch puts the leash on the dog, and stands there until the dog ambles down the driveway. Every time the dog stops walking, Mr. Grouch stops, even if it's in the middle of the road. And then he (Mr. Grouch) growls in a grating voice "Come on!" and pulls the dog onward. I guess this doesn't technically make him grouchy, but you'd think a dog owner who so dedicatedly walks his dog would use those encouraging kinds of tones to urge him onward.
Or maybe Mrs. Grouch makes him walk the dog and he resents it.

And finally:
I've fallen off my bike in front of him three times, and he's never asked if I'm okay. Once was in the driveway (just call me Grace Armstrong) and twice on the road as I've come to a semi-stop and tried not to have to stop, just coasting slowly until I fall off. And forget getting on the bike in front of him. I have enough trouble getting started as it is, and he makes me totally nervous. The last time, we were both trying to cross the street at the same time. I stopped/fell off, and then pretended to check my water bottle and odometer until he had crossed the street and wasn't looking at me anymore. It was strange, because he stood there in the road, or rather, his dog stopped in the road to watch me for several minutes. I was starting to feel stupid (that feeling probably should've kicked in sooner) trying to find thing to fiddle with on my bike.
Sheesh.

And I think they're moving, because they're house is for sale. Which reminds me of another set of neighbors two houses down from them that moved last summer, who were equally as friendly. Mr. and Mrs. Leather. Also not their real names, but these two earned the nicknames even more than Mr. Grouch. I've never seen a tanner set of overweight 60-year-olds more content to work in their yard in the heat of the day in their underwear. They were the color of those leathery people you see in National Geographic who have lived in the desert their whole lives.

They were always outside, typically in the least amount of clothing possible. Mr. Leather's favorite yard work outfit was a pair of ill-fitting boxer briefs. Mrs. Leather preferred halter tops and Daisy Duke-esque shorts. She wasn't out as much as her husband, but was equally as tanned. I'm not sure what they did all day in the yard. It wasn't like they had a great lawn or beautiful garden. Just liked being in the sun, I guess.

I was fine with them as neighbors until their poodle bit me. I was running, and saw the ugly thing in the yard with Mr. Leather as I approached the back entrance to our neighborhood. A brown full-size poodle, standing at watch dog attention as I made my way onto the street. The dog gave a warning growl as I came closer to their house, and I slowed to a walk so as not to antagonize it. "Oh, go on, she won't bite," called Mr. Leather.

I should have trusted my instincts and not Mr. Leather's coaxing, becasue as soon as I started to run again, it snarled and ran for my leg. Thanks to my leg muscles (ha!) and Mr. Leather's reflexes, the dog only scraped my thigh, and I was able to keep running as he swatted at the dog and yelled at it to "git" back into the garage. I didn't look back. Just kept going toward home with parallel sets of teeth marks on my thigh.

The advice I got on fixing this situation ranged from "You should shoot it,"(that was my other neighbor, Rocky) to "You should call animal control," (most of my classmates in my summer class) to Ben's advice which was, "Well it's not like the dog drew blood or anything..."

I'm not sure if that counts as advice.

Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Leather moved when the weather got cool - I assume to some place that gets more sun - and I'll be interested to see who buys Mr. and Mrs. Grouch's house.

Quote of the Day

It's the second day of school, and boy do I have some personalities in my class. Lots of energy. Positive energy, though. I have one little girl that is such a character. She uses language that is not typical at all of eight-year-olds, and I don't mean four letter words. Her speech is just kind of adult-like, but with a childlike perspective.

Maybe I should give an example. In the hallway today, another student started to say that she (Miss Personality) liked a boy in the class. Instead of getting upset, or embarrassed, or angry, she calmly responded,

"Nope. I'm saving my heart for a sports kind of guy."

This kid is an original. Plus, the boy teasing her didn't know how to respond, so he stopped. Usually comebacks in second grade are some variation of, "I'm telling."

Sweet Jump

I've decided to consider the idea of riding my bike to work. Faithful readers of our blog may remember a few posts back when I described how idiotic I am on a bike. I did not exaggerate.

I started riding my bike two weeks ago because the aching in my right leg and numbness in my left made it impossible for me to run even a quarter mile without having to stop. That run was a terrible run, but I am terribly stubborn, so I hobbled, ran, jogged, limped, and walked the full four miles before returning home. I then made an appointment with an orthopedic for two weeks later and banned myself from running for at least a week. I determined to bike every day, even if it killed me.

The neighborhood biking was actually better than I thought it would be. My heart rate didn't go up as high as it does while running, and I didn't burn as many calories per minute, but the whole point is just to be healthy and strong, right? So after five confidence-building days where I almost managed to correct why I fall off every time I start riding, I was ready to attempt the to-work-and-back trip.

On a blazing Saturday afternoon, Ben and I set off with water bottles attached. We made it to school in about thirty minutes. There was only one minor incident when Ben crossed the street before me and I got stuck on the other side for a while, waiting for enough time (in my judgment) for me to wobble across. We got to school, drank about three quarters of our water, rested for a few minutes in the shade and then headed home.

People who know me know that I am not a risk taker. Not at all. In fact, if I feel there's a chance I will probably not be successful, I have to have a LOT of peer pressure in order to do it. Not an admirable trait, but it's true. I say this to give emphasis to an event that happened on our way home.

At one point on our route, we have to bike around a sloping, narrow, curve in the sidewalk that is also home to a stop sign. "Big deal," you might say. "So what?"' you might ask. Well, if you've ever experienced this particular hazard, you'll know that you have two choices. You can ride around the more narrow, sharper turn that involves going behind the stop sign, closer to the grass, or you can ride around the broader but more sloping part of the curve, closer to the street.

I don't know if I misjudged my speed, the slope of the sidewalk, or the sharpness of the curve. I do know that I chose to go on the outside of the stop sign, closer to the street (a busy, four lane street, mind you). I quickly realized that my choices now were either to fall off of the bike or ride it off the curb. Kind of like those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books, huh?

White knuckles gripping the handlebars, I bounced off the curb and into the road, front wheel, back wheel, thud, thud, just in time to feel the wind from an SUV as it whizzed by. Scared to death, and fighting back tears, I hear my sweet, concerned husband calling out, "Sweet jump!"

I have since asked him about this, why he didn't say something like, "Gosh! Are you alright?" or "Honey, you almost died back there!" He maintains that it really was a sweet jump. Very smooth, very purposeful looking. No need to worry since nothing bad happened, and it didn't look like I was scared or freaking out at the time...

Hopefully I'll get better at biking. I could blame lots of things for my ineptitude. My gimp leg, my poor depth perception, my not-so-great coordination with moving objects (hey, I'm a moving object on a bike, right?), or my parents for not absolutely forcing me to ride a bike every single day from the time I was five until I was eighteen. I would really like to ride at to work at least once a week, even though the way back took us forty minutes and was much more uphill. Even though I almost died.

Well, maybe that's a tad dramatic. I seem to be pointing out things about my personality on this entry, but people who know me know I can definitely be a "tad dramatic." It was scary, though. Because I felt out of control, and I hate being out of control. Because there was a car coming, and I knew it. And because I got scared, and I hate being scared. It was also embarrassing (what grown person on a bike has trouble navigating a curve with a stop sign?). But I'll probably try it again.

I must be a glutton for punishment (sheesh...another personality trait). I've danced in pointe shoes with blisters and bruised toenails, recently run enough to develop stress fractures in one leg and compartment syndrome in another, and I'm sure I'll be back on the ol' bike soon enough. On the other hand - maybe I should take up swimming instead...

Fireball Classic

Last weekend, to kick off the fourth of July, Mary Grace and I ran in a 5k. The Fireball Classic 5k on UT campus in Knoxville. The course was flat, following the Tennessee River on Neyland Drive. The race was well attended with 1064 people completing the race. Actually, it was crowded. Like a big state fair next to the river.

Unfortunately, Mary Grace and I didn't perform as well as we wanted. We have been doing all of our training in the morning, and race was in the evening, starting at 9pm. So that was a big difference. The weather was also hot and muggy. I finished 331 with a time of 25:12. Mary Grace came in at 767 with a time of 32:12. My younger brother Jesse also raced and, wouldn't you know, he beat me by a few seconds. If you want the full results, check out the KTC results page, or the direct link. You can also find results for a previous race in which Mary Grace and I ran.

Our next race is the Scholar's Run, August 16 2008, the same day as our five year anniversary.

Our Trip to Foster Falls

Last weekend, Ben and I went to Jasper, TN to meet with some friends to rock climb. I had never been before, so of course, I was a little nervous. And weak. My upper body strength is not proportional to my weight, I guess!

It was a beautiful day to be outside, and we were in the shade most of the time. After climbing, we went for a quick dip in the pool near the falls. The water was FREEZING, but refreshing. I think I stopped shaking by the time we hiked back to the car...or was all that shaking from my much unused "climbing" muscles? It's hard to do something out of your comfort zone, you know? I think it's supposed to build character. That's what they say, anyway...

We had a great time with the Bollschweilers and Jones, and here are some pictures from our day. The pictures are a little out of order, because I had a hard time formatting them....

Meagan climbing

Ben striking a pose.


Colby

Luke

Me at our second location.

Ben at our second location.

PS: There are no pictures of Sarah climbing because she sprained her ankle on a trail run earlier that morning. :(

Running, and Biking, and Yoga...oh my!

Well, you know teachers. Sitting by the pool all summer, working on their tans. No wonder they don't get paid very much - they only work nine months out of the year!

I actually had someone say that to me (the part about pay) while I was waiting with Laura to get the oil changed in her car. I didn't respond to him. There was no point, because he was one of those people that talks incessantly at anyone sitting nearby in public places, and who is an expert on all topics from teachers to current high school culture to the phone company.

Definitely not my style.

I have had a good summer so far, even though I haven't actually sat by a pool one time. I'm taking three classes towards my masters degree and I'll be finished at the end of July as long as I get all of my ducks in a row. I'm such a procrastinator when it comes to sending in forms or having forms sent in. Stupid, I know. I've still got time...five more weeks of summer.

So classes and homework has taken up a big chunk of my time. And what, you might ask, am I doing with the rest of the time? Reading, watching History Channel, practicing piano, and let's see...training my body to be a well-oiled, toned, trim machine, that's what!
Please read that last sentence with tongue in cheek...

I've been running consistently for a year and three weeks now. When I say consistently, I mean at least three times a week except for one week when I had a blister that covered my entire arch (literally, it had a bigger circumference than a doorknob) and the week I had the flu. You would think I would be a totally awesome runner one year later, but I'm a slow learner. I've made some progress, though. When I first started, I could barely run one mile without wanting to die or walk, and I've run up to seven now. I don't really do that on a regular basis though. I mostly do four or five-mile runs, and they're pretty slow in terms of people who really run. It's been both exhilarating and painful at times. I've learned a lot about myself and my physical limits and abilities. I'm hoping to break thirty minutes on my next 5K (see, I told you I was slow!).

Since I have some foot problems, I've been trying to bike on days that I don't run. You know the old adage, "It's like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget" ? Well, it's a lie. Although, maybe I never really learned. I know I had training wheels until I was at least 9. Here's the deal: I can't start or stop. Not well. When I start, I do this insane, wobbly right to left thing (whoa, whoa, white knuckles on the handlebars), and usually end up trying to scoot onto the seat as soon as one foot leaves the ground -which is too soon, believe me. And forget starting uphill, just forget it.

I also can't stop. If it's a planned stop, I'm usually okay. I start breaking about fifty yards away from said stopping point, and think to myself, "Now stand on one leg, lift off of the seat, and gently place the other foot on the ground." If I have to stop with less notice, I end up doing a fall/jump off of the bike, sometimes resulting the bike hitting the ground as I bruise my calf and stumble into the neighbor's yard. I've tried doing a start/stop routine down a street in my neighborhood ( thinking, "Please, let no one be watching as I do this") but it hasn't seemed to help yet. When I'm concentrating I can sometimes get a good start or stop, but when I'm actually on the ride...much less likely. Especially if there's a car nearby or person nearby other than Ben. I just get too nervous.

I blame my parents for this.

Onto a much more comfortable arena for me, I've recently started doing yoga. I love it. I totally buy into the whole, stretching, balancing, breathing, clearing your mind thing. I also have the best yoga DVD ever (not that I've really tried very many). It's by Rodney Yee, there's no annoying music, and he only talks in order to say what position to move to. I've always wanted to be able to do the crazy arm poses. You know, where your legs are out to the side and you're facing the ground, and just balancing on one arm or something. I'm not there yet, but I can do the crane pose which involved balancing all of your weight on just your arms. I'll have to get Ben to take a picture of me doing it; I'm proud that I can do it now. It actually takes way more balance than strength, which is why I can attempt it. I can barely do "plank" for more than three seconds. That's almost entirely abs/arm strength, though, not so much pure balance. Maybe by the end of the summer...

So, in response to the know-it-all guy in the KwikOil place - I do only work ten months out of the year. The thing he apparently doesn't know is that I'm only paid for the time I work (unless you count the two weeks of paid vacation). That's partly why I'm getting my masters. So that if I have to support a family on my teacher's salary, we won't have to be on the free and reduced lunch program. Also, even though starting salaries for teachers aren't always below a normal starting salary for a recent college grad, it's just that there's no way for a teacher to earn much more than that in many systems, unlike other jobs outside of education where you can get a promotion or change companies in order to get a significant raise.

I'm not complaining. I'm just composing a tactful response for the next person that tells me teachers shouldn't expect to make a living wage...
I love my job, and I definitely enjoy all of that (unpaid) vacation time!!
Happy Summer!

More Gardening

As we celebrated the Graduation's of '08, Mary Grace and I decided to call on the expertise of Dad and Linda to help continue the gardening effort. Our thumbs are more like a putrid black than a healthy green. So a few Saturday's ago Dad brought from North Carolina a truck load of plants and tools. Day lilies, evening primrose, moon flowers, lithodora, and celosia (also known as cockscomb). I borrowed a truck and went and got a load of mulch and we set to work. Little did we know how much work it would be...

Some previous owner of our house had put in extensive landscaping and there was a thoroughly entrenched weed barrier plastic layer that had to be removed from the ground before we could make any beds. This was tough stuff. That took a significant amount of time just to remove that garbage. We then had to remove the existing grass and roots from the soil to help control weed growth. Eventually we were able to put the plants in the ground. Add mulch, water and, bake at 400 degrees for....wait, that's not it.

After a full day of work, we were able to enjoy the fruits of our labor as we grilled out that evening and looked at the beautiful plants and flowers. And thankfully Mary Grace and I have managed to keep the plants alive for the first few weeks, so maybe we won't kill this round of plants!

Gardening Day

Ben and I decided to do a little yard work on Saturday...so we called in the troops. I don't have a lot to say, the pictures really tell the story well. A clear, sunny day with flowers to plant, holes to dig, mud to squelch, and worms to find. Beautiful.

The End of the School Year

A few interesting things happen at the end of the school year, for students and teachers. Here are my musings on the top three.

1. A little apathy goes a long way.

I decided to not assign any more homework from now until the end of the year. Why, might you ask? Number one - more than the usual number of them weren't really doing it! It's frustrating, because I don't assign very much - maybe twenty minutes per night, if they're really, really slow. I do expect them to read every night, but does that really count as homework? Plus, the excuses usually aren't that good - a ballgame, I was up late, I just forgot, etc. I like it when I ask them to turn in their work and they attempt to give me a look like they don't know what I'm talking about. Like a "huh?" kind of look. Right. That approach might be more realistic if we hadn't been in school almost 170 days. I also like it when they blame it on their parents. "My mom forgot to put it in my backpack." I always ask them if their mom would like to redo it at recess in their place. Number two reason - I'm tired of grading it. And tired of grading much of anything at all, really. I'm not trying to complain about my job - I know I have the best vacation time on the planet. I'm just staring to feel a little antsy. Time for a change, I guess.

2. Changes (even good ones) are often felt first as a loss. Then glee.

I keep telling my class that I'm sad about the year being over so soon. That's only partially true. I am sad about leaving the comfort of this year. Our little ecosystem of personalities is so known, so familiar. This familiarity brings about another issue that I'll discuss later, but this year really has been great. No majorly angry, fit-throwing kids that are volatile and at times hostile. None of those kinds of parents, either. Nope, this has been, with only a very few exceptions, a delightful class. Smart, sweet, well-behaved, all of those things. I will miss them.
On toward the glee part. It will be nice to do work that doesn't require so much emotional attention and energy this summer. Like grad school and laundry and running. Plus reading. I've already started a little summer reading - The Rising Tide by Jeff Sharra. It's a historically accurate novel about the war in northern Africa and (I think) Europe (I haven't gotten there yet) in WWII. There's nothing better to do in the stifling heat than sit in the air conditioning and read.

3. Extreme irritation with things that formerly had resulted in a slight roll of the eyes.

My students are much more cranky with each other than they were in the beginning of the year. I don't usually have much of a problem with tattling, because I just don't listen to it, so the kids can start to work out their own irritations with each other. Sometimes that can get to the boiling point, though, especially at this time of the year. 24 people in the same room all day, five days a week, for 36 weeks of school. We're practically family now. We're on the edge of insanity with each other, myself included, as I watch the same kid do the same thing that I've asked him (or her) not to do - ALL YEAR.

Oh, well. Twelve more days of school. Two more days of inservice. Then I'm sure my summer will fly.

Where do I go from here?

So, the big day has arrived. Well, actually it will arrive on Wednesday, April 30th, at approximately 4:30pm. That is when I will walk out of my last final, thus completing my Bachelors degree. One class down, four more to go. Can you say excited? It has been a lot of hard work, and a busy three years, but I made it. I am feeling a mixture of excitement, relief, and accomplishment. I have been counting down to May 2008 for three years, and it is finally here.

Our shiny, new blog has been quiet since early April and I am definitely to blame for that. For the faithful few who read this, I apologize. I was supposed to post about my summer plans long ago, but never could seem to make time. Better late than never.

So, what does the future hold for me? More school, at least for now. I will begin working on my masters degree in Computer Science this summer at UTK. I will be working as a research assistant with a PhD student there. I think that in the long run, the work that I would enjoy most will require at least a masters degree, so Mary Grace and I decided to bite the bullet now and hopefully I will be finished in 18 short months. I am excited about some of the coursework that I will be taking in the next semester or two.

I will probably take a class or two this summer to get things started. There are still a few things up in the air, but I should have my plans firmed up by the end of next week. I will write a follow up post soon, and by then, I will have joined the proud ranks of the University of Tennessee Alumni.

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions...

Well, I have only one picture to go with this blog. In fact, I don't think we've taken many since our trip to DC. We've been...decision making.

It's funny, because I've learned a lot about decision making in graduate school. Since my major is Educational Administration, I have had classes on and have been through countless case studies to try to hone my skills at making informed, direct, prompt decisions. I consider myself a good decision maker - maybe a little impulsive at times. I like to make a decision and "die by it," not looking back, only moving forward, not letting those ideas like, "If you'd waited another day, you would've had these options," work their way into my head. Nope. I like to do it and move on. I'm not sure if it's because I am good at looking at the options and choosing the best one (ha!) or if I just am still not good at waiting for long-term benefits/consequences to become clear (more likely).

Ben and I have been talking about our plans for post-graduation with increasing fervor for probably six months now. And we can't make a decision because we're having to wait to see what the exact options will show themselves to be. This is nothing extraordinary. Everyone goes through this period in their lives - several times, I'm thinking. I guess it's part of becoming an adult. We're actually having to weigh consequences, think long-term, do what's best for our family, etc., instead of just doing what is expected.

Some decisions in life that could be considered big ones have been easy. It was easy to decide to go to college. It was easy to decide to accept a job at Sam Houston. Strangely enough, and maybe I shouldn't admit this, the decision for Ben and I to get married was (relatively) easy. Should it have been? Shouldn't the idea of committing yourself to one person for eternity give you reason to pause? Anyway, I felt then and I feel now, that we made a good decision. It was an easy decision - I just knew...
I'm digressing from my point.

So here we are, wondering what to do. We know about one option and will know concerning another next week. Just waiting in the meantime. I guess this really isn't a hard decision. In all likelihood, we'll be choosing between two good things. And I'll probably look back on it when having to make another important decision and think, "Well that one wasn't very hard. I mean, we just knew what the right thing to do was." In retrospect, it's easy to forget about all of the weighty discussions until midnight. Talking about what might happen with Option 1, Option 2, or Option 3.

It is exciting, though. And next week's coming. Ben will actually be posting once he has made a decision. And once he's finished with whichever school project is currently keeping him glued to his laptop until late in the night. Three more weeks to go...

Trip to D.C.

This year for Spring Break, Ben and I actually had the same week off of school! Since Patrick's just recently moved to DC (as a member of the President's Own Marine Band) we decided a trip there would be perfect. Neither of us had been there before, and we got a really positive reaction from everyone we mentioned it to. I mean, really positive. Glowing. Like, "Oh! DC is wonderful! I'm thrilled you get to go! You'll have such a good time!" and on and on. It was almost comical by the time we heard the fourth or fifth person talking about it.

It was wonderful. For lots of reasons. The first being that we got to stay with Patrick (great accommodations as long as you don't mind sleeping on an air mattress in the freezing cold sunroom and fighting off Paco the attacking kitten). We also got to hear the Marine Band concert, which was a treat. They played perfectly, with a beautiful, full sound that filled up the auditorium. Not that I expected any less; it's just nice to hear live music that feels..perfect. I love being with my brother. We used to joke that we were twins, born three years apart. I think Ben can attest to the fact that we have very similar discussion styles and ways of thinking. We don't agree about everything, but we can talk about everything for hours at a time.

We went to several Smithsonian Museums, and probably saw a quarter of what was there. We also spent one day at the Mall, walking around and seeing the Memorials. I think I enjoyed that day the most. I mean, you know about the sacrifices that others have made, you watch movies or read books about war, but it's just something to see 4,000 stars, each representing 100 men who died in WWII. Or seeing Vietnam casualties' names inscribed on a wall. Very touching. I was impressed too, with how reverent people were, for the most part. I have a renewed feeling of gratitude. It helped that we listened to Flags of Our Fathers on the eight hour trip there and back. It put us in a good frame of mind.

As a side note - I would strongly recommend that book. I was so engaged in what I was hearing, it made me forget that I hadn't stretched my legs or moved my bum in four hours. It's written by James Bradley, a son of one of the flag raisers on Iwo Jima. His father almost never talked about his experiences in the war, and the book is written based on research James Bradley did after his father's death.

Ben and I didn't spend much time prepping for our trip, since we knew we'd be staying with a local. We probably should have considered the fact that our local has only lived there for two months and he still does not have "the interwebs" as he calls it. Who can live without internet access, honestly???

Interesting Facts for People Who Haven't Been to DC and Who'd Like to Learn from our Naivety

1. Read something about what you're going to see before you go see it. Particularly memorials. They're beautiful and touching on their own, but it really helped once we figured out that most of them had little buildings nearby with brochures that had some background info (Ben: What's that little building? MG: Probably a bathroom...).

2. Prepare for slightly warmer or colder temperatures than you expect. Ben and I froze one day, not because of the temperature, but because of the wind. We were pretty ill prepared. In fact, I think it was that day that Ben's face got sun/windburned! Ha! He looked like he'd spent a day at the beach.

3. Do not expect that going to a museum means you'll actually see everything you want to see in that museum. It's too big. Or maybe my brain is too small. After a while, I found myself wandering around in that dazed, I've been shopping too long, kind of stupor.

4. Some museums close at 5:30 just like the sign on the door says. Others don't. Isn't that weird? I think we were in the Natural History Museum until about 6:30 one day.

5. Don't accidentally lose your Metro card...still not sure how that happened.


So, overall, a wonderful trip. I'm so thrilled we got to go! We had such a good time...I guess I've joined the leagues of DC lovers who gush about it.