I'm Pretty Much a Teacher!

I have a grade book. And a lesson plan book. And I ate lunch in the teacher's lounge. I'm at staff meetings, and talking about kids' needs, and discussing corrective action.

I'm a teacher!

I didn't write yesterday, partly because the main thing I thought of was Buttercup's declaration "We'll never survive" as she and Westley are entering the Fire Swamp. I even tried it out loud to get the accent right. Very effective.

But actually I wasn't all that gloomy yesterday, and I certainly wasn't gloomy today. Tired, yes. Gloomy, no. For one thing, I love the people I'm going to be working with. They have wonderful senses of humor, and are ready to help at the drop of a hat.

So now all that remains to be seen is what the kids are like. And what teaching is like. And if I will or will not actually survive.

But really, my courage is quite good. I know the year will be hard. I will have no social life to speak of. I will be tired all the time. But I will be TEACHING! And teaching LITERATURE.

I will also be teaching US Government and Earth Science (scratch the New Testament survey class). I never thought I'd see the day when I would be teaching science. But it's coming. Try next Wednesday.

So folks, while this is an update on events of late, it is also a bit of a farewell. Remember that part about no social life? That pretty much meant no free time (i.e. no blog time). Sigh. And Melissa just started college and has three self portraits due by next week so she'll be out of it too. My best guess is that there might be an update each weekend, but I'm not even sure about that. It's been fun while it lasted! And who knows, maybe teaching will be a breeze and I'll have oodles of time for sitting around writing fascinating tales of the world of education. But I'm not counting on it.

New Feature

Just so nobody is confused, allow me to explain the new step required for leaving comments. You have to type in the little word that you see in order to insure that you are a real person and not some nefarious blog spammer. Clever, clever Blogger, coming up with a way to thwart the dark side! Go ahead and try it out everyone. It's fun!

Teaching Nightmares

Last week I was wondering why I hadn't had any yet. But it has happened at last: teaching nightmares. I dreamed about getting up in front of a classroom with no idea what I should say or what I should make them do. I had done zero preparation and was desperately watching the clock, wondering if I could fill the time with small group discussion. Terrifying.

I also had college nightmares before college began, acting nightmares from drama, and even wedding nightmares on Gretchen's behalf! As I recall she didn't have any. I took care of them for her.

The reassuring thing about this kind of dream is the realization when you awake that there is no way it could really happen. I will most definitely be more prepared to teach than that. And I figure, what better way to take care of stress than while you're sleeping? It's multi-tasking, for one thing - so productive. And for another, the waking moments aren't so frenzied because you know it can't be as bad as the dream, and you concentrate on making sure of that by planning/studying/memorizing/etc. And the dreams stop once the reality of college/teaching/wedding actually takes place. The only draw-back to the whole dream thing is that horrible out-of-control feeling during the actual dream. But that never lasts too long.

I go in tomorrow for my first day of teacher training!

Smug and Superior

Once upon a time, there was a huge offense perpetrated against lovers of literature everywhere. I was walking through the kitchen at Fairwood, back in the day, and glanced over at the white board to see what illuminating quote had been placed there this time. The board read:

"To thine own self be true." -- Oprah

OPRAH?!?! Try Shakespeare.

How dreadful that some icon of popular culture would take a line straight out of Hamlet (it's from Polonius' speech to his son) and twist it to mean some liberal, feel-good "be true to yourself" catch phrase. Besides, when Polonius was saying this, he meant look out for number one. He was giving pragmatic, if not selfish, advice. Oprah, forsooth!

Something similar happened recently. Melissa and I were trying to remember who said "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." We decided, as is our usual m.o., to google it. Up it popped as a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. I don't think so. I scrolled down farther and sure enough, it was Milton. Another hero of literary history being robbed of his right by some lesser mortal. Of course, Eleanor Roosevelt seems like a great woman and all, but still...

All of this brings to mind a book Dad was reading a year or so ago. It was an adventure story, part of which took place in Jerusalem! He was reading along about this guy in his getaway car in the Old City. He was a little skeptical, but decided it was possible to have a car in the particular place described in the book. But then he read as the car turned and went down the street to exit through the Damascus gate. At that point Dad was unable to suspend reality any longer. The Damascus gate?! Clearly the author had never been there, and was basing his descriptions on some street map. You see, street maps don't show the fact that that street, leading out the Damascus gate, is impossible for cars to maneuver, due to the fact that it is a series of steps! And don't forget the masses of people and carts and goods for sale (that was the low point of my Israel experience - I've never been so glad to get out into an open space...).

Dad was telling me about this, and I was laughing about it, and commenting about how cool it was that we knew first-hand that this author was out in left field somewhere.

Dad understood, and suggested that perhaps the words I was looking for to describe my feelings were "smug and superior."

Thoughts on the Disengagement

Israel's recent move to pull out of the Gaza strip was a confusing situation for me to evaluate, as a distant, non-Jewish American. Of course I'm an avid supporter of Israel, but at the same time I know there is a serious Palestinian need. I don't trust the Palestinian leadership at all, but there are legitimately needy people there that have nothing to do with the Palestinian government or the terrorist activity. Nonetheless, I hated to see Israel giving up territory to people who despise them and want nothing but their total destruction. It didn't seem very logical to me. But the problem has gone on so long that perhaps some new tactic is what is necessary.

These were my vague thoughts - a bit wishy washy. But recently my thoughts took a slightly different bent. I thought of the incredible spirit of those settlers who were willing to risk everything - their lives, their children's lives, their livelihood - and go to live in the middle of hostile territory. I thought of their vision, their purpose, that amazing drive to fulfill their destiny. I found myself wanting to emulate their spirit in my own life. They are heroes. And they are watching as their own nation - the people for whose future they were laying down their lives - turns against them. Their mission has seemingly failed. They weren't even defeated by enemies, but by friends. Their sorrow at this time must be overwhelming.

Recently I was listening to a broadcast on the Internet. A man who had lived in one of these settlements was talking about the devastation of leaving - and yet the prevailing Jewish spirit that was refusing to be defeated. Even as the settlers knew they would have to give up the protests and leave (not wanting to jeopardize their children with violent resistance) they were dancing and singing the revered Jewish song of unity. The man spoke of his faith in a God who who would take this devastation and make something good come from it.

I tend to think the pullout is a bad idea - it is a concession to outside pressure and a seeming concession to terrorist activity - but political issues aside, the human story there is heartbreaking. I honor those men and women for their vision. And I'm believing for a day when they will see that vision realized beyond what they could ever imagine.

Cruisin'

Yes, I still exist. Once again, I have been rejoicing in the freedom of obligation-free bandwagoning. But I decided that it really is time to throw a bone to my eager readers, especially with such goings on of late. So get ready for over-compensation of femur-like proportions.

For those of you who don't know, I went on a cruise last week! Kind of a last-minute, last-family-vacation-before-everyone-moves-away type deal. So where did we go? To the Caribbean, you may ask? Well, no. To Canada. Poor TJ -- when he told his friends, they responded, "yeah, that sounds like a typical Tim vacation: Israel, Canada...". Hey, not EVERYBODY goes to Puerto Rico and Italy, people. I wonder what they would have said if Amy and I had dragged TJ along on the Vatican City trip we were dreaming about...

Anyway, as we left the hot, wet blanket that passed as air in New York, I was glad we were going north. I wore my Sox visor proudly as we were getting ready to board the ship, and to my delight I got a negative response from the security guys. I told them smugly that I just had to rub it in a little... One of them was a Mets fan and tried to pull an '86 jab on me, but it was completely lame and I reminded him that '86 meant nothing anymore. It's a beautiful thing.

So, the ship was pretty much huge. Crazy huge. With pools, fancy restaurants, shops, a theater, a gym and spa (and yes... the inevitable casino and many minibar-housing lounge).... All big and impressive until we saw our room. We knew it would be pretty tight fitting five of us in one stateroom... and we were not disappointed. It was probably 10x20, with two twin size beds, a cot set up next to one of them, two bunk thingies that folded down from the wall, and a tv shoved in the corner. And one bathroom. Cozy. No, actually it really ended up being fine. There were plenty of drawers and such so we didn't have to deal with suitcases, and we were gone doing other things most of the day anyway. The only time it was really a pain was in the morning and at night when people were up at different times and you had to maneuver your way around the remaining 2 feet of space looking for your stuff in the windowless darkness. Good thing we're all so naturally patient with one another...

There was lots of stuff to do onboard -- games and trivia, various shows, contests, and the inevitable karaoke. No, we didn't participate in the karaoke, though it was tempting as person after tone-deaf person got up there and made fools of themselves. I have to admit that some of the singers were actually quite good, and all were braver than I. It made for amusing entertainment. I got called up for one of the gameshow type trivia things, and I got my own chance to make a fool of myself... there was a question about what one would do when one heard this particular song, and then next thing I knew, the three contestants (my dad was another one, coincidentally) were supposed to perform the "YMCA" on stage (with the audience joining in). Good thing I'm such a killer dancer. HA. I pathetically tried to follow what everyone else was doing, but in the end I just kind of bobbed around and waved my arms. I always have been confused about how to make the "M" and the "A"... The gameshow "host," British assistant cruise director Marcus (who reminded me of a taller and slimmer version of Marnus, you food bank folk), declared all our attempts "rubbish." Ah, well. I made TJ proud, as was of course my goal (yes, he did eventually speak to me again). And for the record, I have since learned how to do the "YMCA" properly (the downside being the stupid song has been stuck in my head now for days...).

Another personal highlight was the day when my dad and I wandered in partway through a "win, lose, or draw" competition. I gasped as I caught sight of the big white board containing indecipherable scribbles, observed the desperate gestures of the marker-laden hands of the man in front, and heard the cacophony of shouted nouns. Could it be? Yes! PICTIONARY!!!! WOOO!!! They were getting ready for a speed round, where one contestant from each team tries to get through as many drawings as possible in two minutes. My pride swelled: "pshh -- I do that for fun at home!" I leapt in as an unknown ringer for my team (since the word had spread, thanks to my dad, that "she's an artist"). Oh yes. The organizer of the game seemed to take pity on me as a young naive player in over her head (everyone seems to think I'm 16 or something... I'm still waiting for the day when it will be a compliment to hear I look younger than my sister), and she let me skip the first clue, which was "Sleepless in Seattle." I admit I was thankful, but when I got the next clue ("Lassie") I was on a roll. Though my knees were literally shaking (weird), I was in my element. The blue team cruised to the finish with one more point than the second-place team, and I was a hero. I won a 24-karat-gold plastic ship on a stick (a joke used approximately 15 times a day which, amazingly, people around me laughed at every time). Thus, I have officially "arrived" in the competitive world of Pictionary.

I can't leave out the food. Basically the majority of our activities involved eating. We were assigned our table for a fancy dinner every night, with our jokester waiter Iputu (from Indonesia, I believe... the crew was quite the league of nations. Our assistant waitress was from Romania). All the food was included on the cruise, so pigging out was a must. Appetizers, salads, entrees and desserts. Yum. I tried quail or pheasant or some such small fowl one night, and though it was a little disturbing to see the whole thing sitting on my plate with its little crossed legs and jutting wings, I got over it and it tasted pretty good. [Ew. It grossed me out again writing that] Anyway... there were buffets galore, including one at midnight some nights, and unlimited soft-serve ice cream, and 24-hour pizzas. One night there was a big shindig where all the world-class chefs displayed their carved vegetable sculptures and other meals that were works of art in themselves... At first they just opened the buffet line so people could look at and take PICTURES of the food, which was interesting yet torturous, and then later they opened it up again for consumption. We sampled some of the dishes, but for the most part they looked better than they tasted. That could partly be because we ate it at like 1 am, when gourmet food isn't quite as impressive to the stomach.

Our stops in St. John and Halifax were quite pleasant, made far more pleasant by the fact that I got to see both Susie and Maureen! What are the odds that my two Canada friends would be in the two very cities we docked at? Somehow I managed to forget about the one-hour time difference on BOTH days, so they both had to wait around and wonder if I'd fallen overboard. But when we finally connected they proved excellent tour guides for our excursion days, and it was so awesome to see them and get a chance to catch up after all this time. Susie took me to one of the most amazing breakfast places I've ever been to (free advertising for Cora's), where I had a massive crepe filled with strawberries and chocolate hazelnut spread, topped with whipped cream. OH MY. On the other end of the spectrum, I was introduced to some freakish substance the natives call "dulce" -- basically dried seaweed that they sell in bags like popcorn. We asked if we could try a sample, and the vendor cheerily showed me a picture of the "before" version of what I was eating: piles of slimy seaweed on rocks that I recognized from trips to the beach. It was pretty much the grossest thing I've ever tasted: like chewy, salty, rotten-fish-flavored grass. But somehow, I feel it needed to be experienced. In Halifax, I got to see the famed "Bluenose" with her sails unfurled,


and the added bonus of Theodore Tugboat:

Maureen showed us some of the places where she hangs out; it was a really cool lil city. Lots of hills and old stone buildings and cool little shops and such. We went to a place called "Freak Lunchbox" which was quite entertaining. They must have every kind of weird "candy" in the world, including gummy fried eggs and dried worms. Yum. We had nice weather on both off-shore days, which made everything even better, as I got to ineffectively work on my nonexistent tan. But of course the best part was the personal connections. Yay for good friends in faraway lands! EVERYBODY GO VISIT SUSIE AND MO IN CANADA!!

So, to conclude this massive post (giving you a run for you money there, eh Craig?), we had a great time. Sometimes the carnality got to be a bit overwhelming, as could be expected on such a vacation, but I was pleasantly surprised by how good things were in general, and there was lots to enjoy. Sunsets over the unending horizon of the Atlantic, naps on deck with the breeze blowing by (and out of earshot of the constant Calypso music), wandering around exploring the various sights and sounds and smells of the perpetual activity below deck, getting pictures taken by persuasive photographers (almost Jerusalem shopkeeper caliber, though less stressful), spending some quality time with the fam... good times. I'm thankful for such a unique opportunity.

The problem is, I keep on swaying... and they tell me the house isn't moving. I'm such a seafarer all of a sudden. Put me back on a boat!

Faith Journeys

In recent months I have been learning some valuable lessons about faith. I have learned that those simple little chorus words "to trust in a way that I cannot see" are a pretty good description of what it's all about. Faith is continuing to trust in God even when you can't see and you can't understand. Otherwise it would be called sight, not faith. It is the main task of the Christian – and the one that will get the incredible reward of sight at last.

More recently I learned what it is to have simple, childlike trust mingled with that solid faith. I was faced with a potentially tough situation, and at first was thrown into confusion. But the previous lesson had not been learned in vain, and I knew, even while the questions whirled, that He was totally trustworthy. But it was when I reflected (or was helped to reflect) on the nature of God that the peace of childlike trust entered the picture. I serve a God who loves His people. I serve a God who is totally good. I serve a God who has a plan that reflects that love and that goodness. Therefore I can make my requests known to Him in perfect confidence that He will do the right and best and highest thing. I have been resting in that sure knowledge ever since then. My God loves His people! He will care for them perfectly. I can ask Him with fullness of faith for the best things.

Today we had a wonderful prayer meeting here in RI. We did the work of God ("This is the work of God that you believe..."). We expressed faith in a powerful God. I thought of that verse "We are not of them that shrink back to perdition, but of them that have faith to the saving of the soul." We can have perfect faith in a perfect God. So let's do it! Let's connect with His goodness and His love and His power, and believe for big things.

Another New England Rhapsody

Days like today are the reason I think New England is the best place in the world. The temperature is perfect – a little this side of warm – the sky is blue, blue, blue, and the rest of the world is in vivid color that suggests Ritz developing. And on top of all that, Dad recently set up the hammock. Sorry everyone, about the fact that I am using the best spot in the best place in the world. I've been there for hours, reading a fascinating teaching book, but interrupting my reading periodically to look up at the sun in the maple leaves – an amazing contrast in light and greens – and to listen to the nearby running water or the chirping bugs. Phew! What a place! I even relented and let Bluebell (our cat) into the hammock to enjoy it all with me. She had been poking her face between the cords (a most amusing sight) in an effort to get in. I don't blame her. It was blissful.

The day was enhanced by a barefoot walk to the garden to pick corn. You can't get much more carefree than that. Although I did get more carefree by shouting merrily back and forth with KJ who was at the main house. That reminded me of yesterday, when I was seized with a similar affection for the place and opened my front door to yell about it. I was quite surprised to get a shout of agreement back from the main house! And THAT reminds me of the time I walked out of the main house singing "Summertime, and the living is easy…" only to hear the next line wafting down from the apartments (it was Tim Stoneman). Ah the happy summer moments.

Like I said, I'm afraid I took the best spot. But I trust you will all find second best spots to enjoy this beautiful weather!

HAPPY CORONET DAY!

"Conquering and to Conquer"

On a More Serious Note than Usual...

I recently had one of those quality discussions with friends, and we arrived at some important and thought provoking conclusions.

Travelling a circuitous route that included blogging, children, and tales of substitute teachers past, our final conversational destination was the spiritual state of the 20/30-somethings in the church. We recalled the meeting at the Fall Convention, and the call to action we'd had at that time. We spoke of the blows we have faced and the fatigue that seems to be plaguing our number. No one seems to have energy to spare, and each is just trying to keep afloat. We acknowledged the fact that this may very well be the time of the “wearing out of the saints.”

And yet this cannot be an excuse to slack off in our pursuit of God, and in our furthering of His Kingdom. One of the girls I was talking with said something about our group seeming to “drag its feet.” I could identify with that. In one sense I feel like I'm doing everything I can do. I've been called to teach. Fine, I'll teach. But is this the best? Is this the highest? Would I be willing to ditch the job, move, and live by faith in some kind of community situation (that was the most drastic thing I could think of)?

In a way I almost wish we would be called to something drastic. A clean break with the old routine and the usual cares of life - a group of like minded followers of Christ willing to put everything they have into His service - some more of the old glory days. I would be willing! And yet it seems like that probably isn't what God is requiring of us at this point. So what is He calling for? How can we be sure that our group is doing what it needs to be doing?

Soon the conversation turned just enough to remind me of something I felt God brought to my attention a few years ago. At the time I was praying for the church, and praying that we would be able to fulfill what God had in mind for us. All at once it was very real to me that the most important thing I could do for the church is to be right with God myself. I need to make sure that my relationship with God is alive and flourishing. I need to make sure I am totally submitted to His will myself. I need to “tend my own vinyard” (Song of Solomon) before I can worry about anything on a community/corporate level.

This was eye opening to me at the time, and was again the other night while we were talking. If all we 20/30-somethings are totally committed to the will of God then we will be sure to be doing what He intends for us! If we are doing His will totally, then we are okay.

The conversation was so rich at the time that I think we should have a 20/30-somethings meeting at the upcoming convention in order to talk through some of these things. Anyone want to join me?

Joe Schlabotnick

When I was young and idolized Danny's every move, I picked up on his fascination with Joe Schlabotnick. Joe Schlabotnick, for those of you less comic literate, is Charlie Brown's baseball hero, from the comic strip Peanuts. Unfortunately he is a pretty lousy player, with a batting average of something around.016. And .016, for those of you less baseball literate, is terrible.

Now that I am older and still idolize Danny's every move, my childhood fascination lingers. Joe Schlabotnick has become my standard filler. Next time there is an awkward pause in conversation, try inserting a reference to this comic/baseball great. Or if you are struggling to remember a name, just use his instead. I even type his name when I'm having writer's block on an essay or an e-mail.

His name is like a magic charm. It staves off the pauses, the writer's block, and all manner of faux pas. It forces my brain to include something new in its thought processes, thus stimulating it to re-invigorated action.

Although Joe Schlabotnick never made it big in the world of baseball, he made it big in my world. I have certainly never used any other fictional person's name so frequently. He has bailed me out many a time. Most recently, he bailed me out when I sat down to a lovely new document to compose a new post (when I'm home I type the post off-line so I don't tie up the phone line). As I sat there thinking about what to write my fingers automatically flew to the J-o-e S-c-h-l-a-b-o-t-n-i-c-k keys. And I thought, aha! Joe Schlabotnick deserves recogniztion after these years of faithful service.

So thank you, Joe, for enriching my life in so many ways.

FYI

I agreed to be spokesman for the most esteemed of Lindsays in order to come before you at this time and inform you that, although her blogging has seemed to fall out of existence of late, it is not because of any lack of desire on her part. On the contrary, she has much about which to blog. Unfortunately, her computer is suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and is on the blink. She will therefore be unable to update until such time as the humidity decreases or she wins the lottery and gets a new computer. Don't give up hope, Lindsay's dear readers. She will indeed be back.

Family Fiesta

Note: I haven't asked parental permission to use children's names on this blog, so I'm going to refer to them by first initials only. I don't think they'd say not to use names, but it's more exciting this way anyway. They do it in books sometimes, and it makes me SO curious.

I am sitting here, hunched over my computer screen, while Kimberly is downstairs playing a beautiful Chopin piece on the piano. Wow do I feel like the uncultured sheep of the family. But I feel better knowing that she is playing the piano while she waits for me to get off the computer. That does not diminish the fact that she blows me out of the water when it comes to Chopin pieces. Not to mention her throwing arm. Oh well, she has to be compensated somehow for being the youngest (and therefore slave) of the family.

Speaking of families, ours had a wonderful outing to the Seashore today. (Have you ever noticed how Victorian children's books talk about the seashore a lot? Or enough for me to realize it just now, anyway.) We haven't taken an outing all together since our family started rapidly expanding, and it turned out to be such a success that we might actually make an annual pilgrimage of it! I think Kimberly will have a more detailed report (outdoing me yet again), so I will leave that to her and just describe a few highlights of the day.

As I headed toward the rendezvous point (the van, of course) I saw T___ riding about on a little plastic riding device (can you call it a tricycle if it is made out of plastic?) and was suddenly filled with this incredibly warm and fuzzy feeling to think that now all of my nephews are getting the chance to grow up in the idyllic circumstances and surroundings that I did. I had the same reaction when I saw a picture of M___ looking in awe at some Bible School students during some function or other. I remember that feeling. And my childhood was so incredibly happy that I rejoice at their opportunities.

Another highlight came when I decided to teach M___ how to play 20 questions on the trip. He is a little young for it still, but I simplified it down a bit, and he understood right away. And it was so much fun to see his absolute delight when he would guess mine, or I his. It was really an exciting little triumph every time. Ah the joys of seeing things through fresh eyes. G___, however, had a harder time with things. The first time he was “it” we started guessing and it quickly became apparent that he had nobody in mind at all, but was relishing being able to say “yeeeees,” and “nooooo” in an authoritative and mysterious manner. The second time it was his turn Gretchen told him to make sure he was thinking of an actual person. “Are you thinking of a person?” she asked. “No I want to think about a statue!” he responded.

The joys of sharing happiness with a new generation increased when we actually arrived at the ocean. They have very rarely seen the ocean, and they all loved it. I__ especially enjoyed the waves, and having Dad hold him with his feet in the way of the spray. We were in an area that was rocky, not a beach, and we climbed all over the place finding new breath-taking vistas and seaweed treasures and even feathers and shells.

These are just a few snapshots of what was a wonderful day - a definite highlight moment in family history. I took (speaking of snapshots) a bazillion pictures, and now that Blogger lets you put them up so easily, some of them might actually end up here! But not being the digital type, I'll have to wait until I get the pictures developed next week.

Some of My Favorite People

And then, all at once, I remembered that you can easily put pictures on your blog now! And blogs are always so interesting when they include pictures. Of course, not having a ready stash of digital photos on computer, my options were limited. But I remembered that I had saved this one, and so here it is. Hurrah for Bushy and Mrs. Bushy!

And this font is called Trebuchet, which I just think is a great word.

But the Question Really is...

What is with all these recent posts having titles that start with B?!

Blogging Drama!

I've notice several people writing about blogblock (as Lisa so aptly termed it), and I was recently suffering from that malady myself. I'm happy to report, however, that my blogblock has passed, and I am just overflowing with earth shaking ideas.

I could write, for instance, about how I just FINISHED reading The Odyssey this evening! Woo hoo!

Or I could write about how all of a sudden I couldn't remember whether the thought I'd just been thinking was about The Lord of the Rings or President Bush. That was one of my stranger moments, but sadly not nearly the strangest...

And there are lots of other things, too, but those are all safely stashed away as drafts for days when I'm not so full of ideas (good idea, Craig!).

But what I want to write about this evening is the amazing drama that has entered my life now that I have become a blogger. This afternoon, while taking a break from (only slightly) more pressing duties, I decided to enter the realm of blogs (from now on I will term it r.o.b.). I sallied forth to the ever-helpful court of Sir Elfenknight2.blogspot.com to begin my quest.

Once there, my duties were clear. I must progress down the list from RyuSoma to those that linger even beyond the bottom of the list. As I passed the invigorating household of Pass, I noticed that someone of a sort of Japanese bent had been there before me. Thanks to my excellent tracking skills I determined that he had left only moments before. I did not pause long to consider this strange happenstance, but instead doggedly pursued the adventure I'd been given. My next stop was at the fair Lady Kimberly's domain, and I tarried there to partake in the fruits of her lovely word crafting. I was moved to respond, and as I offered my gift of verbiage, I was horrified to note that this same Japanese fellow had beaten me to the punch! Even as I knelt to place my gift on the table I saw his slipped in before mine.

Outraged I realized this action for the personal affront that it was. No gauntlet had ever been thrown more viciously. I left my gift and leapt back upon my horse (who only remained unmentioned before this point because I didn't think of him until right now. We'll call him Pal). Calling Pal to outrace the very winds of Heaven, I sped down the hill until I arrived at the Halls of Elizabeth. I clattered into the courtyard, and raced for the gift hall. Still gasping for breath, I wrote out a scathing challenge and placed it there on the gift table. There was still no sign of the Japanese guy with spiky hair. Aha! There! His gift appeared almost simultaneously! But MINE was offered to the fair Elizabeth before his. I had prevailed! The r.o.b. remained free of Japanese-guy-always-posting-before-me-itis. All was well once again.

Brushes with Fame

I was typing out a list of music to put on a new mix I'm hoping to make, when I realized that Fernando's name starts with "Fern." Hm! I thought. No wonder I like him! And this reminded me of a few gripping stories that have taken place within the span of last girls week to this girls week.

Last girls week we went to the Boston airport to welcome home the triumphant Katie and Lisa. It was a wonderful event on its own, but there was a little bonus involved as well. As we stood there, eyes glued to the entrance gate, a familiar figure stepped through the doors surrounded by several un-familiar figures in black suits. That looks like Rudi Giuliani, I thought to myself. Wait a sec, that IS Rudi Giuliani! That was pretty exciting - my first informal glimpse of someone famous.

Then, this summer, I was preparing for the GW (as I like to fondly call it), and wrote to the address given on Fernando's website to ask for permission to photo-copy one of his songs so we could sing it for the Fam Con (as I like to fondly call it). LO and BEHOLD, in my inbox a few days later was an e-mail labeled "Fernando." Eh? I opened it up, and SURE ENOUGH, he had personally answered my question! With a yes, I might add. I was so impressed. So now I have his personal e-mail address, if anyone would like it. Haha, just kidding all you privacy advocates!

Okay, so then the GW was actually about to begin. I was at the airport with Steph (having just picked her up) and we were waiting for Meredith. Then, before our eyes the tallest guy ever walked by, and he looked SO familiar. He had to be an NBA player. So off we scampered, to ask the security guard who had just checked his papers. The first person I talked to was a girl, and all she could tell me was that he played for the NBA. Hm, no kidding! So we waited around a little longer until we could get a man's attention. "That was Robert Parish, center for the Celtics." WOAH! [And hey, buddy, you don't have to tell me who he played for - not all girls are as ignorant as your co-worker there... Okay, okay, I guess I was lucky that time.] THE Robert Parish, of the glory days?! No wonder he looked so familiar. I definitely remember him playing, and I also remember watching the ceremony in which his number got retired (00, for those of you who are less up on their 80s Celtics). I was so excited I almost cried. I had just seen a legend!

Incidentally, I made Danny try to guess who I'd seen at the airport. First I gave him the clue that it was someone wicked tall. "Steve Demme" he guessed. So I threw in the clue that he was black. "Robert Parish." Wow! That was pretty fame-worthy right there!

Anyway, there are the brushes with fame from my Girls Weeks. I wonder who I'll see/hear from next year!

Blurbs

• I'm down with food poisoning for the second time this summer. Burger King salad was the culprit the first time, and I'm pretty sure Subway is responsible this time. I have decided to forswear eating from now on.
• Imagine all the time we would save if we didn't have to eat! I know I'm going to have terrible eating habits when I'm on my own, because it just isn't worth it to do much work to eat. In fact, it has actually happened that I have grabbed a piece of store bought bread with nothing on it in order to quell that hungry feeling. Yum.
• I went down to the school to get some materials this morning. I found out I'm going to be teaching two more classes than I thought. I'm now not only teaching 2 Lit classes and US Government, but also Typing and... Survey of the New Testament! Step over Dad and Uncle Neil! I realized as I was driving home, that my life for the next year is going to be somewhat like having a long-term paper/project due every single day. There is going to be so much to really prepare for! While you can get by with the minimum for quite awhile in the short-term at college, being ready to teach the "eager young minds of tomorrow" every day is another story, methinks.
• Also on the way home I was driving over the Newport bridge (one of my all time favorite spots on earth) and I saw both a Z-3 and a Jaguar. Not bad.
• I'm adjusting to reading the Odyssey. The first chapter took me an hour (I was reading very carefully and taking notes), but today I got through 4, I believe (still reading pretty carefully and taking notes). I might actually finish it after all!
• While driving to the school, I went through the little toll booth, and the man thought I was so funny. All I did was ask for tokens! But he beamed away, and kind of chuckled while he gave them to me, and I drove away grinning and feeling like I was part of some incredibly funny inside joke. I'm pretty sure he was still smiling b/c of the guy in front of me, but it was still an interesting experience. I should try just randomly laughing at people so they have that same happy "I'm part of a great joke" feeling.
• I sent an e-mail to my PC English profs to let them know of my new teaching career. Today I got this reply back from Dr. Delasanta, one of my absolute favorites: "It occurs to me that the PC English Department has doomed all three of its Murray graduates to a life of academic poverty. But then isn't poverty one of the three (poverty, chastity, obedience) monastic vows? You didn't expect to take a monastic vow when you came to PC, did you?"
• While I was totally charmed by Dr. Delasanta's words, I don't think I'll share them at the school. They are already a little jumpy about my having been educated at a Catholic school.
• Nonetheless, I feel like I got the best possible English education. No other school could have done better. Gretchen and I were recently talking about this, and thanking God for the way He worked it out. He does have a good plan!

Head for the Hills!

I have just returned from several days at the Hills, and I feel somewhat akin to Hercules after he accomplished his nine great tasks. (Was that Hercules? Hmmm. Well, I’ll know after I brush up on my mythology in preparation for my Classical Lit class.) I went out to help Linda, and all that stuff they say about your spirits being lifted when you help other people is sure true. I feel totally refreshed, even though I haven’t worked so hard in quite awhile. And manual labor (if you can call dish washing manual labor) is exhilarating after four years of mental labors.

So guess who is now a fan of farm life? Actually, I’ve always kind of been attracted to the idea of living on a farm. (When Amy and I told Lindsay’s grandfather that we thought it would be cool to live on a farm he couldn’t repress laughter - he who knew what farm life was really like.) But after this week the attraction has stepped up a notch. It seems kind of idyllic in a way. There is serenity and stability and something that connects with so many past generations who have earned their livelihood with good, honest toil. Of course, it means a lot of flies. But one morning Caleb, Ruthie and I had a fly-killing party (not to be confused with the raspberry-picking party or the floor-washing party) and managed to fell nearly 20 of the foe. So even the flies have their charms.

I especially loved my job of being responsible for the younger kids. I could say so many wonderful things about the children in that family! But here are a few tid-bits of my experiences with the younger ones. Caleb does not appreciate being called such things as “matey, laddie, or lad.” “Sir” is acceptable, but “Caleb” is safest. He expresses affection by telling you what kinds of disasters he would be willing to save you from. Especially if he was Spiderman. Ruthie has an amazing sense of humor. She saw a picture of a baby that I drew, complete with the little hair squiggling up from the top of the head, and burst into sincere, uninhibited, from-the-heart laughter. I laughed till I cried more than once, thanks to her. She has a very happy worldview. Rebecca and I were together a lot. Our old bond from the days when I was last there as "mother's helper" (over 7 years ago) is still strong, even though her main memories of me included sitting outside of my room because I wouldn't let her in (I did relent, however, when I saw her adorable 3-year-old little fingers wiggling in under my door). And all of them are excellent companions for anything from cooking to Candyland. (Liane! Caleb’s Candyland game had the same recipe as Ethan’s! Fortunately, I was forwarned, and therefore forarmed.)

And of course, the beauty of the location was stunning. I drove there with Kimberly (the ideal traveling companion - we had such a great time! And she also saved me from heading off toward who-knows-where by shrieking “WEST!” at the opportune moment) and we couldn’t stop talking about how amazing it was.

So there you are, friends, another cast iron excuse for why I haven’t posted in so long!

E-mail Closings

Does anyone else ever have problems with how to end e-mails? Letter-writers: same question only with letters. I just had to reply to an e-mail from my organ teacher. That was awkward. Similarly when I had to write to a group of English professors, and a classmate whom I didn't know very well, and the principal of my new school.

It's all very well when writing to family or girl friends. You simply end "Love, Andrea." (Or whatever your name happens to be.) Or, if you're feeling more effusive, you could say something like "I LOVE YOU! Andrea." Or even, "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Andrea." And then you can throw in as many exclamation points as are appropriate to the situation. And of course, you can preface it with many other words of aff.

It gets a little more sticky with guy friends. "See ya" usually works pretty well, or better yet "see you tomorrow" (or Tuesday or next week or whenever you will actually see him). But then you run into problems with such guy friends as may be in the Navy and whom you probably won't see for a good long while. Somehow "See you in a couple of years" doesn't really work so well as a frequent closing. But then, if it's long term you can be a little more pious and close with a "God bless" or "I'm praying for you" or something. And of course, you can always do something a little more informal, like "your pal, Andrea" or "your land lubbing friend, Andrea." Hee hee hee. I just thought of that last one. I'll have to remember that. And as a last resort you can just abruptly stop, and hope he doesn't notice. "And then we all laughed really hard. It was wicked funny. Andrea".

When it comes to professors and non-peers it gets a little more stressful. I've used things like "warmly" (which seems a little more their generation than mine) and "I hope you're having a wonderful, relaxing summer" (which sounds suspiciously like I wasn't sure how to close the e-mail, or worse, like I'm signing their high school yearbook). The best is when you're writing a thank you e-mail. Then you can get away with "Thanks Again, Andrea" or better yet, "Thanks Again (SO much), Andrea." But in all of this I still haven't hit upon the perfect e-mail closing.

Recently (as in, within the past few months) Melissa and I were discussing this, and our conversation began the downward spiral into frivolity, as it is wont to do. We began coming up with all sorts of fantastic adverbs with which to close e-mails. "Concomitantly, Andrea." "Stylistically, Andrea." "Fanatically, Andrea." The next e-mail I sent to Melissa ended "Salubriously, Andrea."

So really the dilemma need not be a stressful puzzle so much as an opportunity for creative greatness. Go to it friends! Write those e-mails! And embrace the awkward closings!