Hello dear Blog-world,
I am visiting my Dear Husband's (DH) family ın Turkey for a month with Lıttle-Sir-3-Year-Old. İt is our 3rd visit here. I am having a bit of trouble with the text and keyboard, as you can see, but İ will keep trying and make a travel-blog, as a frıend (Janet, dear) requested.
Please post your comments, as İ am already hungry for Englısh conversation!
Untıl next post,
j-m
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Grading Presentations
I am finally home after a veeerrryy long day, during which, among other things, I had to sit through and grade several hours of ESL598 (International Teacher Assistant's) presentations. These grad students are all tops in their fields of study, and had to give a lecture appropriate to their discipline...they were graded on their English fluency, in many miniscule categories.
Imagine how gruelling it is to sit through hour after hour of lectures on such brainy topics as "Nitric Oxide: Good or Evil?," "The Resistor Color Code," and "Homeostasis in the Kidneys." Student after heavily-accented student did their best to impress the audience, to get a good grade on this, their final exam, one more rung on the ladder toward professorship. I really had a hard time following the guy who spoke about "The Stress-Strain Relationship" (which, to my disappointment, had nothing to do with emotional stress.)
There was a good one on "Deer Ticks and Lyme's Disease."
Tomorrow I get to do it all over again.
Oh joy.
Imagine how gruelling it is to sit through hour after hour of lectures on such brainy topics as "Nitric Oxide: Good or Evil?," "The Resistor Color Code," and "Homeostasis in the Kidneys." Student after heavily-accented student did their best to impress the audience, to get a good grade on this, their final exam, one more rung on the ladder toward professorship. I really had a hard time following the guy who spoke about "The Stress-Strain Relationship" (which, to my disappointment, had nothing to do with emotional stress.)
There was a good one on "Deer Ticks and Lyme's Disease."
Tomorrow I get to do it all over again.
Oh joy.
Monday, April 30, 2007
I read in lunachick's blog about trying to get her daughter to eat, after she'd been sick, and following her around with juice. I so get that. Little-Sir-3-Year-Old has always been a peanut, and we discovered a wheat, etc. allergy early on, that restricted all kinds of foods. (We became regulars at the ER, and faced anaphalactic shock, and learned to carry an EpiPen.) I've learned to sneak in nutrition-dense calories wherever I can with him, and often find myself following him around popping something in his mouth. He finally started to balance out, with his weight beginning to enter the bottom of the percentiles (he's been below the chart for ages), when seasonal allergies hit hard, and he stopped eating again. Only someone raising a child with some sort of health issues can truly appreciate the victory I felt today when I realized he'd eaten well since I came home from work around 1 pm. (He wouldn't eat breakfast or lunch for DH.) When I got him into p.j.s, I noticed those dark circles that've been under his eyes are finally lightening, and he's not so fragile-looking.
They do turn out ok, though. Dear Daughter (DD) was also underweight and waif-like for many years, until she hit puberty. I thought she'd never break 29 lbs! Even "slims" hung on her...used to dress her in leggings and tights a lot with warm dresses/jumpers, because pants would fall off. She was hospitalized with pneumonia at 7 wks., and had persistent lung ailments...the terrible coughing would make her throw up, so whatever little nutrition I did get into her would come right back again. Now, she's in college, and manages to keep a brutal schedule and eat more-or-less healthily...and she's taller than me! So, there is hope for Peanut # 2.
It reminds me of the stories my mom used to tell. She and her brother, a year apart, were skinny little things, and their mother was always trying to fatten them up. They lived in Brooklyn and walked everywhere. She would regularly pack them up, with the baby in the carriage, and walk to the drug store where she'd buy them malteds. (You can't buy them at drug stores any more, and now lots of ice cream shops don't know what malt is.) Both Mom and my uncle had to diet as adults, and I wonder if all that pushing on Grandma's part didn't contribute to weight problems later.
I never forced DD to eat, and try not to with Little-Sir-3-Year-Old...but when he goes for days with less than a bird would need to survive, I find myself following in Grandma's footsteps. We don't do the malt shop, but I do buy organic whole milk for him, and let him eat Nutella with a spoon and pb & j for any meal he wants. And I've been known to buy Haagen Dazs just for him...ever read that label? Lots of nutritious stuff, nothing artificial, and lots of extra calories.
Now...what happened to me? The skinny gene must've just skipped over me entirely. Whenever I'd take my little ones to the pediatrician, enduring the "tsk tsk tsk" as they were being weighed, and the questioning about the child's daily caloric intake, I always got the distinct impression I was being surveyed out of the corner of Mr./Ms. Medical Professional's eye, and that they were thinking, "Sure...she eats all the food herself, and doesn't let the children have any."
sigh...
They do turn out ok, though. Dear Daughter (DD) was also underweight and waif-like for many years, until she hit puberty. I thought she'd never break 29 lbs! Even "slims" hung on her...used to dress her in leggings and tights a lot with warm dresses/jumpers, because pants would fall off. She was hospitalized with pneumonia at 7 wks., and had persistent lung ailments...the terrible coughing would make her throw up, so whatever little nutrition I did get into her would come right back again. Now, she's in college, and manages to keep a brutal schedule and eat more-or-less healthily...and she's taller than me! So, there is hope for Peanut # 2.
It reminds me of the stories my mom used to tell. She and her brother, a year apart, were skinny little things, and their mother was always trying to fatten them up. They lived in Brooklyn and walked everywhere. She would regularly pack them up, with the baby in the carriage, and walk to the drug store where she'd buy them malteds. (You can't buy them at drug stores any more, and now lots of ice cream shops don't know what malt is.) Both Mom and my uncle had to diet as adults, and I wonder if all that pushing on Grandma's part didn't contribute to weight problems later.
I never forced DD to eat, and try not to with Little-Sir-3-Year-Old...but when he goes for days with less than a bird would need to survive, I find myself following in Grandma's footsteps. We don't do the malt shop, but I do buy organic whole milk for him, and let him eat Nutella with a spoon and pb & j for any meal he wants. And I've been known to buy Haagen Dazs just for him...ever read that label? Lots of nutritious stuff, nothing artificial, and lots of extra calories.
Now...what happened to me? The skinny gene must've just skipped over me entirely. Whenever I'd take my little ones to the pediatrician, enduring the "tsk tsk tsk" as they were being weighed, and the questioning about the child's daily caloric intake, I always got the distinct impression I was being surveyed out of the corner of Mr./Ms. Medical Professional's eye, and that they were thinking, "Sure...she eats all the food herself, and doesn't let the children have any."
sigh...
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Spring
Even tho' we're all battling allergies, a downed section of fence made us go outside after dinner to deal with it, and then ended up doing some impromptu yardwork. I was upset to find that the devil-vine bittersweet's back and practically choked my little tiny lilac before it even has a chance. I did some serious physical battling with it, pulling the roots out of the ground forever and ever...then found it ran the whole front end of the fence, too.
Now, after showering, realizing I came in contact with some allergen on my arm (and in my eye!), I'm achy and sore and just wanna go to sleep. Them vines are tough fighters.
But it feels good to be out in the warmth again.
sigh.
Now, after showering, realizing I came in contact with some allergen on my arm (and in my eye!), I'm achy and sore and just wanna go to sleep. Them vines are tough fighters.
But it feels good to be out in the warmth again.
sigh.
Friday, April 27, 2007
"The Beauty and Magic of the North Fork"
I am working on a thematic unit on Long Island (I have to submit a series of lesson plans for ESL students, of different proficiency and grade levels, across the content areas, all with one theme) and always like to incorporate technology in the form of internet resources, videos & DVDs, as well as field trips for lots of hands-on learning. I found a DVD called The Beauty and Magic of the North Fork, by Mike Malkush Productions in Cutchogue. Anyone know anything about this guy? I am thinking about contacting him to see if he has any other DVDs I could use in the classroom...maybe on other parts of Long Island.
Just looking for more ideas.
Just looking for more ideas.
Finishing Grad School
I read lunachick's entry that she's going back to college. That brought back memories. I still remember the conversation with DH, right after the baby was born. "Now with DD off to school, and some free time, what do you want to do?" "I have a baby." "I know, but if you could do anything...anything with your life, what would you do?" "Well, I've always wanted to be a college professor." "Ok, so do it!" "I need a PhD for that." "So get one." "I have a baby." "I'll watch the baby, I can cook, we'll figure out schedules. If you want to go back to college, then do it!"
Hmmm...and so the wheels started turning in my mind, weighing the possibilities...hmmm.
And so, I did it. Had some changes mid-course, when I found out there are no jobs for university music professors anywhere...got involved with ESL instead, which I'd always dabbled with.
And now, I'm in my last semester of coursework before getting my certification to teach ESL, pre-K through adult. My last final is May 9th. I then have to student-teach in September. Jobs are starting to open up. It felt like it would never get here...it took 3 1/2 years, but here I am. Almost done. Wow.
Now, I'm almost starting to get a little scared. Entering the job market again, now in a different arena. I've never applied for a job teaching at a college before. Or, I could teach in a school district. Have to go through interviews (yuck!) All that self-consciousness...proving oneself...buying professional-looking clothes to make the right impression.
One step at a time.
For now, I have more hours to log, 3 projects, a research paper, and 1 more final to go.
There is light at the end of the tunnel.
Hmmm...and so the wheels started turning in my mind, weighing the possibilities...hmmm.
And so, I did it. Had some changes mid-course, when I found out there are no jobs for university music professors anywhere...got involved with ESL instead, which I'd always dabbled with.
And now, I'm in my last semester of coursework before getting my certification to teach ESL, pre-K through adult. My last final is May 9th. I then have to student-teach in September. Jobs are starting to open up. It felt like it would never get here...it took 3 1/2 years, but here I am. Almost done. Wow.
Now, I'm almost starting to get a little scared. Entering the job market again, now in a different arena. I've never applied for a job teaching at a college before. Or, I could teach in a school district. Have to go through interviews (yuck!) All that self-consciousness...proving oneself...buying professional-looking clothes to make the right impression.
One step at a time.
For now, I have more hours to log, 3 projects, a research paper, and 1 more final to go.
There is light at the end of the tunnel.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Preschool
After enjoying Little-Sir-3-Year-Old thoroughly, I am sad to report that he will becoming Little-Sir-4-Year-Old at the end of May. DH told me this evening that his job shift may be changing again come September, meaning that no one will be home during school hours, so I am faced with considering pre-K. This isn't an awful thing, I know, but I wasn't ready for it. We've taken advantage of the fun little classes at Riverhead Library, and he loves his weekly play-dates, but pre-K is serious business. Probably 5 days a week, all day. He'll probably love it, but I'm getting teary.
So, dear fellow-parents, teachers, aunties, grandparents, etc., I am looking for recommendations. I've heard bits and pieces about Lyrical, St. David's, Raynor and Riverhead Country Day Schools. If you were sending your precious little lamb off into the big wide world by himself all day, where would you send him?
So, dear fellow-parents, teachers, aunties, grandparents, etc., I am looking for recommendations. I've heard bits and pieces about Lyrical, St. David's, Raynor and Riverhead Country Day Schools. If you were sending your precious little lamb off into the big wide world by himself all day, where would you send him?
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Mouse Hunt
We are being invaded again. Part of the joy of living on a country road, across the street from the river, surrounded by trees, is that we see deer regularly, have lots of migratory songbirds, ducks and geese. Another part is that our garbage cans are regularly raided by raccoons (we keep them locked in the shed, but they have to go out on garbage day, and the truck seems to come about 4:30 a.m.) Possums get run over on our street pretty regularly, and that's not a pretty sight.
We also have regular invasions by
the ants
and
(gasp!)
mice.
I always thought people with mice in their houses were dirty people who left food out all over the place. Since living in this house, I've learned that any old house (ours is over 100) has lots of little holes for mice to get in, and in cold weather, they make it their business to get in and be warm. We have diligently plugged up any small crevice we've found with steel wool, and finally, I announced last week, that we've finally gotten through a whole winter without a mouse sighting.
And then, I came home Saturday, to the happy announcement from my DH that he saw a large one escaping behind the stove. No telltale droppings, which is how we usually knew they were here. But he said it was so big, it had trouble getting through the small opening between the stove and the brick chimney.
sigh
"Big" probably means pregnant. Oh goody.
So, the war ensued. DH has taken to all sorts of ingenious trapping ( I won't use poison.) This mouse is very very smart. It has managed to eat the peanut butter bait from the traps, leaving them un-triggered. DH, on the other hand, has caught his fingers in the traps a few times, just baiting and setting them. He's tried different types.
Well, finally, I was greeted this morning by his success. Yuck. I won't touch it. It's his job. He can remove that carcass. Yuck.
Now, why is it, that I love nature, and get a kick out of watching squirrels gathering and eating acorns and things, stuffing their little pouches, and get all excited when I see a chipmunk...but I freak out when there's a mouse in my house? If I saw the same mouse Outside, say eating birdseed on the stoop or something, I'd think it was cute, and would watch it for awhile. But in my kitchen is a different matter altogether. And, I'm scared it will come under the bedroom door when we're sleeping. When my hand hangs over the side of the mattress, I get creeped-out, thinking it's sniffing my hand. Ew!!!
I am an enigma to myself.
We also have regular invasions by
the ants
and
(gasp!)
mice.
I always thought people with mice in their houses were dirty people who left food out all over the place. Since living in this house, I've learned that any old house (ours is over 100) has lots of little holes for mice to get in, and in cold weather, they make it their business to get in and be warm. We have diligently plugged up any small crevice we've found with steel wool, and finally, I announced last week, that we've finally gotten through a whole winter without a mouse sighting.
And then, I came home Saturday, to the happy announcement from my DH that he saw a large one escaping behind the stove. No telltale droppings, which is how we usually knew they were here. But he said it was so big, it had trouble getting through the small opening between the stove and the brick chimney.
sigh
"Big" probably means pregnant. Oh goody.
So, the war ensued. DH has taken to all sorts of ingenious trapping ( I won't use poison.) This mouse is very very smart. It has managed to eat the peanut butter bait from the traps, leaving them un-triggered. DH, on the other hand, has caught his fingers in the traps a few times, just baiting and setting them. He's tried different types.
Well, finally, I was greeted this morning by his success. Yuck. I won't touch it. It's his job. He can remove that carcass. Yuck.
Now, why is it, that I love nature, and get a kick out of watching squirrels gathering and eating acorns and things, stuffing their little pouches, and get all excited when I see a chipmunk...but I freak out when there's a mouse in my house? If I saw the same mouse Outside, say eating birdseed on the stoop or something, I'd think it was cute, and would watch it for awhile. But in my kitchen is a different matter altogether. And, I'm scared it will come under the bedroom door when we're sleeping. When my hand hangs over the side of the mattress, I get creeped-out, thinking it's sniffing my hand. Ew!!!
I am an enigma to myself.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Happy Birthday, Christy!
Tomorrow, St. Patrick's Day, is my DD's birthday. She's here for one more day on her "Spring Break" and is happy to have this winter storm. She'd missed the snow, being in school in Florida. I'm just hoping Sunday everything is clear so there's no more airport difficulties. I do not want a repeat of what happened for the Feb. break.
So, happy birthday, Christy! I love you, my girl!
So, happy birthday, Christy! I love you, my girl!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
How Best to Endure Idiots
Even tho' I promised myself I'd do the taxes early this year, get the financial aid stuff done for our colleges, and hopefully get a refund instead of paying, here it is mid-March and I hadn't started yet. This morning I didn't have to go to a school, so I could sleep in. My body didn't realize that, and the built-in alarm clock went off at 5:45 a.m., in a panic, thinking I'd overslept. (sigh) I didn't have to be up so early, but I was, so...no time like the present to finally do those pesky taxes. (One must continue to support the reigning beauracracy, even when one does not agree with 95% of what they spend my money on.)
I had bought one of those computer tax programs, and plugged away at it, step by step. Finally I came to the end, and it asked me if I'd like to E-File. Of course, since they're giving me a little money, instead of the other way around. Then, it decided it wasn't going to let me E-File after all, so I had to print the returns and mail them. Only it wouldn't let me print either. So, I figured I'd take it to the library and print it there. Couldn't figure out how to do that, so I called the 800 number for customer support.
Why do they have idiots answering phones, when they're supposed to be manned by experts? It didn't matter how I phrased the question, "But what do I have to do to be able to print this?"...Mr. Bright Light on the other end kept talking in circles about the expertise of the program and all the wonderful things it could do...blah blah blah blah blah. After 2 call-backs, trying to get a different operator, with no better results, my DH started laughing in the background..."HHHOOOWWW do I print this???" You'd think it's a basically easy question. It's not all that unusual for people to print a paper copy of their tax returns and mail them. This is a company who specializes in doing taxes, and it's this guy's job to answer software issue questions...so...this isn't brain surgery...I just want to know How Do I Print This???
2 hours later, after trying various methods myself, I finally got another genius on the phone who said they could email the return to me, and then I could print it. (This sounds ridiculous, but at this point, I didn't care any more.) I had to say...and spell...my email address at least 10 times...very slowly...and he still didn't get it. Finally, he asked if I had another email address, which I do, so we tried that. I'm not even gonna say how many tries that took.
I am convinced that idiots rule the phone-answering customer-service business. They can't help being stupid, and one must be nice to stupid people...but all I want to do is print my taxes already!
Ok. Rant officially over.
I had bought one of those computer tax programs, and plugged away at it, step by step. Finally I came to the end, and it asked me if I'd like to E-File. Of course, since they're giving me a little money, instead of the other way around. Then, it decided it wasn't going to let me E-File after all, so I had to print the returns and mail them. Only it wouldn't let me print either. So, I figured I'd take it to the library and print it there. Couldn't figure out how to do that, so I called the 800 number for customer support.
Why do they have idiots answering phones, when they're supposed to be manned by experts? It didn't matter how I phrased the question, "But what do I have to do to be able to print this?"...Mr. Bright Light on the other end kept talking in circles about the expertise of the program and all the wonderful things it could do...blah blah blah blah blah. After 2 call-backs, trying to get a different operator, with no better results, my DH started laughing in the background..."HHHOOOWWW do I print this???" You'd think it's a basically easy question. It's not all that unusual for people to print a paper copy of their tax returns and mail them. This is a company who specializes in doing taxes, and it's this guy's job to answer software issue questions...so...this isn't brain surgery...I just want to know How Do I Print This???
2 hours later, after trying various methods myself, I finally got another genius on the phone who said they could email the return to me, and then I could print it. (This sounds ridiculous, but at this point, I didn't care any more.) I had to say...and spell...my email address at least 10 times...very slowly...and he still didn't get it. Finally, he asked if I had another email address, which I do, so we tried that. I'm not even gonna say how many tries that took.
I am convinced that idiots rule the phone-answering customer-service business. They can't help being stupid, and one must be nice to stupid people...but all I want to do is print my taxes already!
Ok. Rant officially over.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Music on a Cold Winter's Afternoon
My students had a music recital at the Riverhead Library this afternoon. Even though I'm not the one performing (except for a little accompaniment), I get so nervous...by proxy, I think. I am always headachy and exhausted afterward.
Now, 10 hours later, the music is still buzzing through my head, and there's this lovely feeling of accomplishment. Another successful one down, how many to go???
One of the joys of being a private teacher is that I get to totally design my own curriculum, without any Big Brother adminstration peeking over my shoulder, and no "state standards" to satisfy. My students and I can explore pieces, composers, and styles of our own choosing, and the recitals are always a delicious blend of the result. Some students even compose their own pieces to perform. J.S. Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven sit side-by-side with Joplin and Gershwin, Rodgers and Hammerstein, with a little Ibeniz and Paige & Plant thrown in for good measure.
I absolutely love that electric ripple that runs through the audience when a particularly talented student plays a well-prepared piece, chosen to impress. When a 7-year-old, whose feet don't even touch the floor, swinging gently in the air beneath the piano bench, pounds out Beethoven's "Symphony No. 5", I can hear little gasps echo around the room. And then, when a 5th grader zips through "In the Mood", of the Glenn Miller Orchestra's fame, I can feel the people smiling without even looking out at them. Later, when a little boy deftly fingers the classical guitar piece "Malaguena", moving from soft, frenetic fingerpicking to driving Spanish style strumming, the energy pulses through the room with the beat of his hand. Piece by piece, the listeners are absorbed in the performance, finally sated with the last dramatic chord of "Rhapsody in Blue."
ahhh...another day's work is done...
Now, 10 hours later, the music is still buzzing through my head, and there's this lovely feeling of accomplishment. Another successful one down, how many to go???
One of the joys of being a private teacher is that I get to totally design my own curriculum, without any Big Brother adminstration peeking over my shoulder, and no "state standards" to satisfy. My students and I can explore pieces, composers, and styles of our own choosing, and the recitals are always a delicious blend of the result. Some students even compose their own pieces to perform. J.S. Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven sit side-by-side with Joplin and Gershwin, Rodgers and Hammerstein, with a little Ibeniz and Paige & Plant thrown in for good measure.
I absolutely love that electric ripple that runs through the audience when a particularly talented student plays a well-prepared piece, chosen to impress. When a 7-year-old, whose feet don't even touch the floor, swinging gently in the air beneath the piano bench, pounds out Beethoven's "Symphony No. 5", I can hear little gasps echo around the room. And then, when a 5th grader zips through "In the Mood", of the Glenn Miller Orchestra's fame, I can feel the people smiling without even looking out at them. Later, when a little boy deftly fingers the classical guitar piece "Malaguena", moving from soft, frenetic fingerpicking to driving Spanish style strumming, the energy pulses through the room with the beat of his hand. Piece by piece, the listeners are absorbed in the performance, finally sated with the last dramatic chord of "Rhapsody in Blue."
ahhh...another day's work is done...
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Just a Little Perspective
While struggling to walk across the yard from my car to the house, on ground that had been a mud-slush mess the day before, and now was frozen solid into ankle-breaking bumps and clumps, keeping my face burrowed in my nice, woolly turtleneck, struggling to find the door key with my bulky thermal gloves on, "oofing" because the cold makes me have to pee even more, the cell phone rang. I answered it after I got in the door, because I could see it was DD.
"Hi, Mom!" she says brightly. "What're you doing?"
"I just got home," I said. "What're you doing?"
"Oh, nothing right now. But I'm going to the beach tomorrow with some friends" (she goes to college in sunny Florida.)
"That is not even in my scope of reality right now," I shivered, toying with the idea of actually turning up the heat in the house.
"Oh, it's in the 90's here..."
sigh
"Hi, Mom!" she says brightly. "What're you doing?"
"I just got home," I said. "What're you doing?"
"Oh, nothing right now. But I'm going to the beach tomorrow with some friends" (she goes to college in sunny Florida.)
"That is not even in my scope of reality right now," I shivered, toying with the idea of actually turning up the heat in the house.
"Oh, it's in the 90's here..."
sigh
Monday, February 19, 2007
On Being More Appreciative
I was reminded of LunaChick's entry about vacuuming out the inside of the vacuum (after removing the bag...) when I accidentally lit myself on fire. I had just taken my early a.m. shower, and was wrapped in my new robe from Turkey that my sister-in-law gave me. It's thick terrycloth, wonderfully soft and cuddly and absorbent (hence the term "Turkish towel.") Tiptoeing around the house, so as not to awaken DH or Little-Sir-3-Year-Old (and have more time to do schoolwork in peace and quiet,) I was being extra careful about unnecessary noise.
Our gas stove has an electric self-ignite (you know, the click-click-click-whoosh of flame), but sometimes, when I clean around the burners, it doesn't work so well for a day or so and needs a match to get it started. We have a box of kitchen safety matches, but they're almost all gone, and I couldn't find them in the store. DH brought home some cheapy ones from the gas station to tie us over. Now, I've had a problem with these cheapy ones before...they are hard to strike, and sometimes, because I press so hard, the sulphur-topped tip comes off when it ignites, flying like a tiny burning meteor. Once before, one of those little meteors hit my neck and burned me. So, Miss Brilliant Mind that I am, I knew that this could happen, and the "Little Voice" in my head said, "don't use the cheapy ones, use a safety match." But the Miss Stubborn Cheapskate side of me said, "No, they're almost all gone, and I have to save them." (for what???)
Very, very quietly I filled the teakettle with water, set it on the stove, took out my teacup and sugar bowl, reached for the cheapy matches and struck one. I promptly went up in flames. The tiny flying meteor must've hit the robe (which was damp, fortunately), and fast-as-lightning, the top layer of little terrycloth loops were burning all down my front. I quickly patted them out, then heard a "whoosh" down my back, and realized the back was on fire, too. I took off the robe, wrapped it up, extinguished it, and threw it in the shower to wet it thoroughly (all in my naked glory in my budget-conscious-low-temperatured house...thank goodness Number One Son wasn't home to see...)
I was mildly shaking, thanking God that I didn't have to be rushed to the hospital with awful burns. I was mourning my beautiful yellow robe, which now has an over-layer of dark brown where the loops have been burned off, and a small hole in the back that's black around the edges.
And then it hit me.
I've done this before.
sigh
Our gas stove has an electric self-ignite (you know, the click-click-click-whoosh of flame), but sometimes, when I clean around the burners, it doesn't work so well for a day or so and needs a match to get it started. We have a box of kitchen safety matches, but they're almost all gone, and I couldn't find them in the store. DH brought home some cheapy ones from the gas station to tie us over. Now, I've had a problem with these cheapy ones before...they are hard to strike, and sometimes, because I press so hard, the sulphur-topped tip comes off when it ignites, flying like a tiny burning meteor. Once before, one of those little meteors hit my neck and burned me. So, Miss Brilliant Mind that I am, I knew that this could happen, and the "Little Voice" in my head said, "don't use the cheapy ones, use a safety match." But the Miss Stubborn Cheapskate side of me said, "No, they're almost all gone, and I have to save them." (for what???)
Very, very quietly I filled the teakettle with water, set it on the stove, took out my teacup and sugar bowl, reached for the cheapy matches and struck one. I promptly went up in flames. The tiny flying meteor must've hit the robe (which was damp, fortunately), and fast-as-lightning, the top layer of little terrycloth loops were burning all down my front. I quickly patted them out, then heard a "whoosh" down my back, and realized the back was on fire, too. I took off the robe, wrapped it up, extinguished it, and threw it in the shower to wet it thoroughly (all in my naked glory in my budget-conscious-low-temperatured house...thank goodness Number One Son wasn't home to see...)
I was mildly shaking, thanking God that I didn't have to be rushed to the hospital with awful burns. I was mourning my beautiful yellow robe, which now has an over-layer of dark brown where the loops have been burned off, and a small hole in the back that's black around the edges.
And then it hit me.
I've done this before.
sigh
Sunday, February 18, 2007
P.S.
As a post script to my previous entry, in light of Erma Bombeck's thinking, and generally being more appreciative, I would like to say that:
1. This cold weather makes me really enjoy a good hot shower. Of all the things modern society has given us, clean, hot, running water is a particularly wonderful advance for me.
2. I've recently learned that sleep burns more calories than reading or watching t.v., has multiple physical and mental health benefits, and that most women don't get enough of it. To that end, I will gratefully hibernate more this February.
3. I've also learned that skin exfoliants, such as scrubs, are particularly beneficial in this cold weather. So, this morning I treated my face and feet (and thereby, my hands, also) to a nourishing scrub (in the hot shower, of course.) I feel deliciously warm and free of the top layer of dead skin cells now, thank you very much. It's supposed to make me prettier, too. Hmmm...
4. This cold weather has made me really appreciate my one online course, and that I only have to drive to Stony Brook Univ. 2 nights a week, instead of 5, like last semester.
Ok. Now I feel properly appreciative, instead of whining. Thank you.
1. This cold weather makes me really enjoy a good hot shower. Of all the things modern society has given us, clean, hot, running water is a particularly wonderful advance for me.
2. I've recently learned that sleep burns more calories than reading or watching t.v., has multiple physical and mental health benefits, and that most women don't get enough of it. To that end, I will gratefully hibernate more this February.
3. I've also learned that skin exfoliants, such as scrubs, are particularly beneficial in this cold weather. So, this morning I treated my face and feet (and thereby, my hands, also) to a nourishing scrub (in the hot shower, of course.) I feel deliciously warm and free of the top layer of dead skin cells now, thank you very much. It's supposed to make me prettier, too. Hmmm...
4. This cold weather has made me really appreciate my one online course, and that I only have to drive to Stony Brook Univ. 2 nights a week, instead of 5, like last semester.
Ok. Now I feel properly appreciative, instead of whining. Thank you.
February Doldrums
I agree with Natasha from her "Thinking Out Loud" blog. This weather is making me fat!
I just cannot make myself go out walking or jogging when I can feel the flesh of my face freeze after 5 minutes. The last time I tried, I was covered up to the eyelids, breathing through my favorite, soft scarf. Well, my breath caused condensation inside my scarf, and this condensation quickly froze. I then had tiny ice beads scraping my face as I plodded along. I was afraid to go too fast, for fear of hitting a patch of ice and ending up on my butt, hurting something.
I am always cold, except when driving my car, which has had ample time to heat up. At home, I'm trying not to call the oil man too soon, so the thermostat's as low as I can stand it. I periodically jump around the house, warming up and burning a few calories. But my basic survival has been drinking lots and lots of hot beverages...and all I want to eat is comfort food...potatoes (baked boiled, mashed, I don't care as long as they're hot!), chocolate (especially in the form of warm chocolate chip cookies), warm grandmotherly things like nutbreads and pumpkin muffins...I'm fantacizing about this stuff!
Meanwhile, the scale is creeping up IN THE WRONG DIRECTION! Ugh. You'd think all this cold would be making me burn extra calories, but apparently not enough. And, in the evening, all I want to do is get under the covers and watch a movie. (I've been a regular at the library's video/DVD shelf.)
Now, repeat after me...
I am not a couch potato
I am not a couch potato.
Maybe I'll make a pot of chicken soup with lots of veggies. It's hot and comforting, and nutritious, but not fattening.
Brrr.
I just cannot make myself go out walking or jogging when I can feel the flesh of my face freeze after 5 minutes. The last time I tried, I was covered up to the eyelids, breathing through my favorite, soft scarf. Well, my breath caused condensation inside my scarf, and this condensation quickly froze. I then had tiny ice beads scraping my face as I plodded along. I was afraid to go too fast, for fear of hitting a patch of ice and ending up on my butt, hurting something.
I am always cold, except when driving my car, which has had ample time to heat up. At home, I'm trying not to call the oil man too soon, so the thermostat's as low as I can stand it. I periodically jump around the house, warming up and burning a few calories. But my basic survival has been drinking lots and lots of hot beverages...and all I want to eat is comfort food...potatoes (baked boiled, mashed, I don't care as long as they're hot!), chocolate (especially in the form of warm chocolate chip cookies), warm grandmotherly things like nutbreads and pumpkin muffins...I'm fantacizing about this stuff!
Meanwhile, the scale is creeping up IN THE WRONG DIRECTION! Ugh. You'd think all this cold would be making me burn extra calories, but apparently not enough. And, in the evening, all I want to do is get under the covers and watch a movie. (I've been a regular at the library's video/DVD shelf.)
Now, repeat after me...
I am not a couch potato
I am not a couch potato.
Maybe I'll make a pot of chicken soup with lots of veggies. It's hot and comforting, and nutritious, but not fattening.
Brrr.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Hello All,
A friend of mine sent this in an email, and I thought it good enough to post here. I tried copying and pasting it, as it had pretty pictures, but alas...I am technologically challenged and all I got was black and white print.
I grew up reading Erma Bombeck, and loved her. So, from Erma and me, to all of you in Blogland.
In honor of women's history month and in memory of Erma Bombeck who lost her fight with cancer.
IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck (written after she found out she was dying from cancer).
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband. I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that t he wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."
There would have been more "I love you's" More "I'm sorry's."
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it... live it and never give it back.
STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!
Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what
Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.
Let's think about what God HAS blessed us with, and what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally.
A friend of mine sent this in an email, and I thought it good enough to post here. I tried copying and pasting it, as it had pretty pictures, but alas...I am technologically challenged and all I got was black and white print.
I grew up reading Erma Bombeck, and loved her. So, from Erma and me, to all of you in Blogland.
In honor of women's history month and in memory of Erma Bombeck who lost her fight with cancer.
IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck (written after she found out she was dying from cancer).
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband. I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that t he wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."
There would have been more "I love you's" More "I'm sorry's."
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it... live it and never give it back.
STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!
Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what
Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.
Let's think about what God HAS blessed us with, and what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
The Beauty of Winter
The beach in winter has its own spectacular beauty, especially when it's been cold enough to freeze. I've been watching the bays from afar all week, waiting for the opportunity to go for a long walk, when the icy blasts of February died down. Today was perfect! DH, Little-Sir-3-Year-Old and I went to Indian Island and walked all along the beach border this afternoon.
There's something particularly lovely about the edges, where the foam is frozen, and the ice is in waves, like they've been flash-frozen. The air was still cold, but not brutally chillingly so, like it has been. The sun felt warm on us, as we happily tramped along, watching a flotilla of swans where the ice ended and the water smoothly flowed. The guys took turns throwing stones on the variations of ice...in some places, the stones were absorbed, as in snow...in others, they bounced and skidded over the surface. The air was fresh and clear and tasted deliciously cold, and we gloried in being outside again.
Who knows when the weather will permit our next excursion together like this? Our time to just be us, without a schedule to keep, is so fleeting and precious. Today was a special gift, and I plan to savor the memory of it.
There's something particularly lovely about the edges, where the foam is frozen, and the ice is in waves, like they've been flash-frozen. The air was still cold, but not brutally chillingly so, like it has been. The sun felt warm on us, as we happily tramped along, watching a flotilla of swans where the ice ended and the water smoothly flowed. The guys took turns throwing stones on the variations of ice...in some places, the stones were absorbed, as in snow...in others, they bounced and skidded over the surface. The air was fresh and clear and tasted deliciously cold, and we gloried in being outside again.
Who knows when the weather will permit our next excursion together like this? Our time to just be us, without a schedule to keep, is so fleeting and precious. Today was a special gift, and I plan to savor the memory of it.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
The Blue Butterfly
I just watched a lovely movie, poignant and worth the watch. I'm thinking about using it in a class someday...mulling over the lesson plan ideas. It's called The Blue Butterfly, with William Hurt, Pascale Bussieres and Marc Donato. Based on a true story, it's about a 10-year-old boy with a brain tumor, and his dying wish to see this blue butterfly in the rain forest. I give it the official thumbs up.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Poinsettias
Hey, does anyone know the deal with poinsettias? DH brought home some lovely ones before Christmas, and now one of them has about had it. I'd heard you could keep them in their dormant state, and they'd come back again...something about a brown paper bag??? I could Google it, I guesss, but...
Snow
Wow, yesterday's snow was a shocker. DH and I were in WalMart (yes, I know...supporting the huge conglomerate evil) buying a cool mist humidifier for Little-Sir-3-Year-Old, who's battling croup again...when DH says, "What is that? It can't be snow..."
Looking through their windows/doors, it looked like an intense fog had rolled in...on closer inspection it was a white-out of snow. We hadn't been in there very long, so it must have come and hit us quickly. DH was just about to leave for work, and I was nervous about him driving all the way to Southampton in that. But, just as we turned onto our street, it stopped and the sun was shining! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. It was like we were under a snow cloud one minute, and under a cloudless sky the next.
Will wonders never cease...
Looking through their windows/doors, it looked like an intense fog had rolled in...on closer inspection it was a white-out of snow. We hadn't been in there very long, so it must have come and hit us quickly. DH was just about to leave for work, and I was nervous about him driving all the way to Southampton in that. But, just as we turned onto our street, it stopped and the sun was shining! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. It was like we were under a snow cloud one minute, and under a cloudless sky the next.
Will wonders never cease...
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