mothers day

Happy Mother's day. I hope this give you all a giggle.

Bitter sweet.

As I write this there are now only 8 days left of school and I am both very happy about that,but at the same time I am feeling sad. The reason for the mixed feelings is that when I leave the cafertia next Wednesday it will not just be for the summer but it will be for the last time. I will not be coming back to the cafeteria next fall as a permanent staff member. The only possibility would be as a substitute if one of the regular workers was sick and I did not already have a substitute teaching position for that day or I was already working full time teaching somewhere else.

On the one hand leaving means never again will I have to prepare 42 Caesar chicken salads only to have 17 of them left over after lunch. Never again will I have to pan 12 pans of corn dogs and shuffle them from the storage rack to the ovens to the hot box again and man are they heavy. Never again will I need to make over three hundred servings oaf instant mashed potatoes, which really gives you an upper body work out, and then scoop those same servings onto a plate which after a while can make your wrist pretty sore. Never again will I have to wash, rinse, and sanitize anything. Yes that part is all good especially now. Due to the swine flue scare we have had to cup everything that goes on the salad bar. During this week alone I have cupped about 240 little cups of sour cream, 100 cups of olives and I guess 500 freaking cups of pudding. No, I won’t miss any of that.

On the other hand I have the privilege of working with the greatest women who have become my friends who I will miss so very much. As much as I disliked the actual physical part of my job I always looked forward to going to work because I knew we would be laughing, dancing, and enjoying each others company. We have supported each other, encouraged each other, and even went to Las Vegas together. I think it is because of our friendship that we have been able to work so well together as a team to get the job done and the kids fed each and every day and I will miss that. I told them when I leave next week they will have to retire my apron. The assistant manager and I are both big fans of NCIS and she jokingly told me that no matter who they hire to replace me she is going to call them Probie. I told her they should call the new person “Not Momster” because no body can replace me.

I only hope that wherever I end up I never lose touch with these women who made my three years in the cafeteria some of the best years of my life. I thank you both.

It’s not rocket science!

I consider myself pretty smart. I finished my teaching program with a 3.82 average which I don’t think is too shabby so why can’t I read the directions to crochet a stupid triangle shawl? I had a terrible time figuring it out because it’s written in a secret code. I used goggle to find out how to read crochet code and it still did not help me understand what they meant by ch-2hch, skip space turn, (arhggg) what the heck do they want from me! I went to Michaels and asked d for help. They may sell the yarn, the hooks and books, but that doesn’t mean they know what to do with them. I did however find a book Crocheting for Dummies. That’s me, so I bought it. It was a little more helpful, but I still didn’t quit get it. I have had more success just by trial and error and hopefully the shawl I am making will turn out ok.

If any one out there can break the crochet code and is willing to share the secret with me I would be forever grateful.

What an ordeal.

Webster’s dictionary will tell you that an ordeal is a severe trial or experience, but ask any Boy Scout who has been chosen by his peers to be inducted into the Order of the Arrow and I think they will tell you something much different. They might tell you they were hungry because they didn’t get that much to eat, or that it was hard work completing their service project, or that it was hard keeping silent the entire weekend. They may even tell you they did not sleep well laying only on their ground cover without a tent, but I think they will also tell that it was an honor to be chosen and that having accomplished the ordeal they feel very good about themselves.

That is what I hope my son says when he comes home from his ordeal Sunday afternoon. I am a little worried because rain is in the forecast while he is gone but sleeping in the rain won’t kill him, just make him miserable but I am pretty confident that he will dry out again. He is quite capable of existing on little food because if breakfast, lunch or dinner is not to his liking, which most often is not, he will state loudly, “I guess I won’t be eating with you”. That used to bother me as I felt it was my duty as a mother to make sure his tummy was full so I or his Dad would prepare him something to his liking. Now we just tell him it’s your choice. It is amazing that if he is really hungry how quickly what was once not so appetizing now becomes edible. I am not worried about his ability to perform hard wok as he is one of the hardest working boys I know when he is motivated and passionate about something. I am a little worried about the sleeping arrangement as I figure when he does come home he will be one very tired boy which translates to grumpy obnoxious boy who will torment and pick on his sister until I send him to his room for a nap. I am also concerned about his ability to remain silent for the weekend. Knowing that he takes after his mother I fear that not talking may be his undoing. I can’t imagine not being able to talk; just the idea makes me shudder.

But it’s not just the lack of food, hard work, bad sleeping conditions and enforced silence that will make this an ordeal for my son. I believe it is the fact that they are not allowed to bring any electronic comforts such as his mp3 player or hand held games. It also means he can’t take his Rubik’s Cube, yo-yo’s, or his beloved deck of cards for either performing magic or playing a very bizarre card game he calls mowe. I can’t tell you how to play because that would violate the rules. Like I said it’s a very weird game. Without any distractions and no one to talk to my son is going to have a lot of hours to do some pretty deep thinking which I think is the purpose for the ordeal in the first place. Not every boy is chosen for Order of the Arrow. They are voted on by their peers if they show willingness and cheerfulness in serving others as well as showing leadership skills. It is an honor to be asked and it is an excellent way to become a better person, scout and leader. I think when he comes home tomorrow afternoon he will be tired, dirty and sore, but he will also have learned about hard work and commitment.

He’s leaving on a jet plane.

We are short one kid this weekend. My son is sitting at a chess board right now in Nashville, Tennessee competing in the USCF National Chess Competition. He left Thursday and will not be home again until Monday night. I hope he has a great time and I can’t wait to hear all about it when he gets home. I mean I do miss him, but this is such a wonderful opportunity for him that we just had to let him go. My husband and I both feel that this type of trip is good for our son because it broadens his world and gives him the opportunity to do things out from under our shadow and begin to find out just who he really is. Plus, he promised to bring me a present from Tennessee.

I can see the finish line!

The journey I began in January of 2007 is almost completed. I finished my last methods class and now all that is left is my student teaching which I will begin in August of this year. After that hopefully I will be able to find a job teaching. When I began this journey the market was wide open for teachers but with the economy taking a nose dive I can only hope that schools will still be in the position to be hiring new teachers.

It has been an interesting journey. In January of 2007 when I returned to school after many years away from academia I was a little worried that I had forgotten how to be a student. After only a few classes it all came back and I was soon in the swing of things again. As strange as it may sound my faith has also grown during this time. I have heard it said that when you are ready to learn a teacher will come, or something like that and I believe it is true. Every time I needed a teacher for a practicum I would stress about finding one who would take me. Someone who was perfect for what I needed would show up and be willing to let me work in their class. This started with my very first practicum with Mrs. Williams, who is the sweetest woman who is such a good teacher. She made me feel welcome right from the start by encouraging and helping me when I was so unsure of myself. It ended with Mr. Albach who taught me so much during that last practicum class. He taught me that a little bit of chaos can be a good thing because it means the kids are excited about learning and are engaged in the process. He taught me that you can be a good teacher and still be a little laid back with your students and all the teachers in between who taught me so much through their examples. I am grateful to each and every one of them.

So now I wait until August to begin the final chapter of this journey and my student teaching assignment. I know it is very important and I think I am ready although a little nervous, but I am prepared to jump in and give it my best. To tell you the truth I can’t wait.

Perfect

My daughter's Brownie leader sent me this e-mail and I thought is was such a perfect tribute to those who fell on 9-11 that I just had to share it.

USS New York

It was built with 24 tons of scrap steel from the

World Trade Center.

It is the fifth in a new class of warship - designed for missions that include special operations against terrorists. It will carry a crew of 360 sailors and 700 combat-ready Marines to be delivered ashore by helicopters and assault craft.

Steel from the World Trade Center was melted down in a foundry in Amite, LA, to cast the ship's bow section. When it was poured into the molds on Sept 9, 2003, 'those big rough steelworkers treated it with total reverence,' recalled Navy Capt. Kevin Wensing, who was there. 'It was a spiritual moment for everybody there.'

Junior Chavers, foundry operations manager, said that when the trade center steel first arrived, he touched it with his hand and the 'hair on my neck stood up.' 'It had a big meaning to it for all of us,' he said. 'They knocked us down. They can't keep us down. We're going to be back.'

The ship's motto? 'Never Forget'

As long as this ship sails the world will know that you may be able to knock us down but you will never be able to keep us down.

Louis Armstrong - What A Wonderful World [MusicJokeBox]

My dad just sent me this link and suggested I post it on my blog. I hope you all enjoy the sweet innocence of these beautiful creatures. If only we could learn from them then maybe it would be a wonderful world. Peace.

He’s still my boy.

While my son is now more man than boy, every so often the boy in him comes through. About a week ago I had gone to bed leaving my son and husband up. I think they were playing Ace Combat or something like that so I turned in. A little while later my husband came to bed and I asked if Cody had gone to bed as well. He told me no, he fell asleep on the chair so I just left him there. Cody had done this before so I knew he was warm and comfortable so I rolled over and went back to sleep. A few hours later I was awakened by something. At first I didn’t know what it was and then I realized the light in the hallway was on and that was odd. I assumed that my daughter had gotten up to go to the bathroom and forgot to turn it off. I got up to turn it off and noticed her door was closed so I knew it was not her. I looked in Cody’s room thinking that he might have gotten up and gone to his own bed but it was empty so I called his name to see where he might be. I was answered with a very pathetic voice calling weakly, “Mom I’m out here.” I went to the family room and there he was face down on the couch with long bare legs hanging to the floor. “I’m sick.” he moaned. I asked what hurt and where he felt bad. He told me it was his head and he was achy all over. I went over to him and touched his back. Even through his shirt I could feel him burning up. He was indeed sick. I told him I was going to get the thermometer and some ibuprofen and I would be right back. He said ok. I took his temperature and it was 102. After dosing him with something for the fever and body aches I got his dad up to help me get our boy to his bed. And that’s where he spent most of the rest of the weekend except when he was on the couch. He may be a tall strapping young man but when he gets sick he’s still my little boy.

It was while he was recovering from what we are pretty sure was the flu that we found out that his school was offering ballroom dance lessons to any one who was interested before the school dance that Friday. I told him I thought it was as good idea since if the girls were making an effort to learn how to dance they would really appreciate it if some of the boys would as well. He told me he was planning on looking up dancing on Wikipedia and I suggested he might learn more by taking the class and he reluctantly agreed. However after his first lesson he was hooked. When he came home I asked him if he had fun dancing and he said yes. I asked him if he got to hold a girl in his arms and he said several. He really enjoyed the lesson and even said that if another opportunity came up for more lessons he probably would take them. That boy is no fool. He and his dad went shopping for a new dress shirt and he picked out a very handsome red shirt which he wore with black pants and a black tie. He looked so handsome. Later when he came home from the dance I asked how it was. He told me he had a good time and had danced with several of the girls. He also mentioned that he was way overdressed, but that he was glad he had dressed nicely.

While I am so proud of the man he is becoming I still find myself looking at him in amazement. When he was a baby he was just a little peanut starting out at only four pounds and now he is almost as tall as I am. When he was just born and my mom saw him for the first time she looked at my husband and said, “You couldn’t deny him if you wanted to.” He did look just like his daddy but the older he gets the more he looks like my side of the family. He is getting tall, slender and strong. He even has the McKibben feet; long and narrow. This is much different than the Johnson feet which look very much like Flintstone feet. Sometimes he will catch me staring at him and he will say what? I will tell him I am just looking and he will tell me stop because I am creeping him out but what he doesn’t know is that is am looking for my baby, the one I cradled on my chest as we napped together. I realize that the days that I know everything about him are gone and will only know what he chooses to share with me. In not so many years he will be on his own with his very own family and some other woman will be first in his life and that is the way it should be. I just hope that when that day comes I can let go of him without too many tears. Thank goodness he is only thirteen years old and I still have many more years where he still my boy.

People I hate.

With all due respect to my mother who feels that hate is too strong a word to be used with describing how you feel about a person or thing and much prefers the terms I don’t care for or I dislike to be used instead of the dreaded hate word I ,however, feel the word is entirely appropriate to describe how I feel. .

And I agree there are times that I don’t care for or I dislike are completely adequate to describe you feeling about a particular person or thing. For example, I don’t care for people who go through the 10 items or less check out with 20 or more items. I don’t care for people who wear way too much perfume or cologne to church, concerts, movies or any other place I may go so that it is all but impossible to breathe. I dislike people who talk through movies or spoil the ending for me. But I don’t hate these people that are reserved for the lowlife bottom dwelling scum puppies of the earth other wise known as hackers.

There are two kinds of hackers, those who hack to steal information from you so they can gain monetarily. These people are crooks and hopefully will be caught and prosecuted. Then there are those who hack because they can. It’s a game to them to see if they can get in your system and leave a nasty little virus behind, aren’t they clever. While I dislike the first type of hacker and hope they go to jail fro their crimes, I hate with the intensity of 1000 white hot suns the second groups of hackers.

Someone has for what ever sick and twisted need has introduced a virus to my computer and it is infected big time. Normally when you leave your computer idle for a certain amount of time it will hibernate. If this happens you simply wake it up by jiggling your mouse and resume what ever task you were working on before the interruption.

My computer hibernates at will and not just when it has been left alone, but any time it wants to. I can be in the middle of a sentence or in the middle of a game, the computer screen will go black and I get a no signal message. At this point you can’t wake it up no matter how much you jiggle the mouse or press the enter key. The only option is to turn off the computer and restart it.

In my opinion people who hack simply to mess with peoples computers and cause all sorts of havoc are no different then terrorists who hide behind a mask to claim responsibility for their horrible acts. If you are so proud of what you do why do you hide? If you think breaking into a computer program that infects other peoples computers and makes their lives more difficult then they need to be some how makes you a bigger person all I can say is you’re wrong, it only makes you a self centered, self absorbed jerk who spends way to much time playing with themselves. Leave my computer alone and do something useful with your life.