So it’s been over two weeks since I blogged.  Not a big surprise considering school started, but I did hope to blog more often this school year.  Maybe that will still happen.

School hasn’t been as exhausting as in the past.  I think that has more to do with the fact that I’m teaching 5th graders rather than Kindergartners.  5th grade is so much easier.  I feel like I’m actually getting to teach something rather than just babysit and discipline all day.

My teaching partner is new to the school.  He taught high school ag several years ago before going into finance.  He decided to return to his first love and took a job teaching math and science to 5th graders.  He feels like he is babysitting and disciplining children all day.  I guess it’s perspective.  For me the kids seem so much more mature and able to do things than what I was used to, and for him they are so much younger and less able than the students in his past.

While I haven’t been exhausted like before I have been busy.  So busy.  There seems to be a lot of stuff to do, but I don’t leave feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus on a daily basis.  That’s nice.

Maybe there will be more blog time now that I’m finally getting the hang of this whole teaching big kids thing.  Maybe.

I don’t understand the argument.  How someone can say that being gay is a choice.  I get what they are thinking, but I don’t think they’ve thought it through.  Using the word choice as a blanket term for the reason people are gay doesn’t make sense.

In high school I fell in love with my best friend.  She was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  We were inseparable.  We spent so much time together and were so close that my mother once asked me if I was gay.  I was appalled.  Shocked.  And denied that such a thing could be true.  I immediately chose a boy to date just to avoid that thought ever going through anyone’s head again.  But the thing was…it was stuck in my head.  Was I gay?  My friend and I continued to be close, but there was a boyfriend buffer there to help.

In college it was the same song, second verse.  Girl vs. Boy.  No way I’m gay.  Choose boy.

Later I met my future husband.  He was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  We became best friends, but secretly I wanted more.  I wanted to date him for over a year before he finally asked me out.  I was thrilled.  Overjoyed.  Ecstatic.  The first time he held my hand I was nervous.  And the first thought that entered my head was, “Wow…my friend is holding my hand.  A little weird, but I wanted this.”  And the first time he kissed me, “Oh my gosh, my friend just kissed me.”  I figured it was the transition from friendship to more that elicited those thoughts.  I got used to holding his hand and kissing him.  It was good.  Sweet.  We got married.  We had children.  We had a happy life.

Numerous times during our married life I came across women I was attracted to.  Usually I ran the other way when that happened.  I chose to ignore those feelings.  I chose my husband over all others.  Until one day I couldn’t.  I was with my best friend.  She was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  And I was faced with a choice.  She was standing in front of me asking me to kiss her.  Willing me to.  The battle of choices raged in my head.  I chose to give in to all those overwhelming feelings of desire.  And the most irrepressible feeling of finally washed over me.   I didn’t choose to feel that way.  It wasn’t weird or unnatural or gross.  I didn’t think about the fact that I was kissing my friend.  All I could think in those moments was was that one word…finally.  Finally I felt what everyone always talked about.  The part that I had somehow missed.

Later, after deciding to go our separate ways I wondered about it all.  I was still married.  He had forgiven me.  And he said I had a choice to make.  He was right.  My choice was to continue to stay married to him or to leave.  I fought myself over that choice for a long time.  I couldn’t imagine getting a divorce, but I also couldn’t imagine continuing to kiss him knowing what a finally kiss felt like.  I chose to leave.

So yes, there were choices.  I made them.  I chose to act on the feelings I felt, but I didn’t choose to feel them.  I chose to be with a woman, but I didn’t choose to be attracted to them.  I chose what came naturally to me instead of choosing to continue to force myself to try to feel something I never would.

I know I’ve already posted, but I had to link this here.

Awwwww…..

So cute!

My youngest child is turning 12 in a week.  Over the past year or so she’s been asking to redo her room.  Her dad bought her a few things, I’ve gotten her a few things, and she’s spent her own money on some stuff.  Even though it sounds life she’s been doing a lot of shopping her room still didn’t look redone.  She got a new comforter set in a snazzy zebra/pink leopard pattern, but her walls were bright yellow.  She found a lime green basket for her flip flops, but her walls were still yellow.  The cool lamp with the various shades of pink, the lime green boxes to hold her important stuff, and the feathery zebra throw pillow were all cute, too, but those walls were still yellow.  She also had an antique bed and a hand-me-down dresser that looked great with the blue and yellow room she inherited but not so great with the zebra, pink, and lime green room she envisioned.  Something needed to be done.

A couple of weeks ago she and her brothers went on a trip with their dad.  A two week long trip.  A trip that meant I had time to do something about those yellow walls.  I moved everything I could lift out of her room and recruited help from my dad.  We painted those yellow walls bright pink.  I stood back and looked at our work, and while it was a huge improvement it still didn’t seem like enough.  I decided that the furniture had to go as well.  My dad and brother came over and took the offending pieces away.  Much better, but OMG it was empty and I am not a decorator type.  I know what I like when I see it, but I can’t see a completed room in an empty one.  My oldest had stayed in town because of her job so she was now recruited to help.  We went to Ikea and bought a new dresser and side table.  I got online and purchased a twin mattress and frame.  Add curtains, knick knacks, and a whole lot of love and we finally finished yesterday about 2 hours before she was due home from her vacation. 
When she arrived she knew something was up.  In a moment of frustration on their trip she had been told there was a surprise waiting for her if she would get herself together.  We played it casual and talked about the trip for a few minutes before she noticed that her bedroom door was closed.  She looked over at me and hesitantly asked why her door was closed.  I said something about trying to keep the house cool so I closed doors.  She made her way to her door and screamed when she opened it.  She couldn’t believe how much we did.  She said that at one point when she was thinking about her surprise she wondered if I would do her room.  She said she figured it would be painted maybe.  She had no idea we would go all out.

This smile hasn’t left her face since.  So worth it!

(Sorry for the blurry pictures.  They were taken with my unsteady hand and my phone.  The kids took the actual camera with them on their trip, drained the battery and never recharged it.)

Once upon a time we lived with another family…well sort of.  We moved to their city to join them in business, and while we got our house in order they graciously invited us to stay with them.  We had 4 jet lagged kids and were overwhelmed with all the newness so we were probably not the best house guests.  We made our hosts’ lives miserable it seemed.  We tried hard to make sure we were quiet, and we made sure to express our appreciation for everything they were doing for us.  It didn’t seem to matter.  We were stressing them out.  We put a rush on our stuff, and finally, after 2 weeks, we were able to move into our own place.  I know they were glad to see us go.

We made a decision that day.  Because of the nature of our business we knew there would be other people coming to our city to live.  We knew that they would need to have a place to stay while they set up their own houses.  We decided that our house would be that place.  We were laid back and knew that we could handle the company.  We didn’t want our business partners to stress out nor did we want others to feel what we felt while staying with them.

That experience had an impact on me.  It challenged me.  And because of it I have a life goal.

I want to be refreshing.  I want to show kindness to others so that they walk away from any encounter with me feeling refreshed.  The goal is based on a bible verse, but I do think it is achievable no matter what you believe.  The verse is Philemon 1:7.  Here it is in several different translations.

New International Version  Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the Lord’s people.

New American Standard  For I have come to have much joy and comfort in your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, brother.

King James For we have great joy and consolation in thy love, because the hearts of the saints are refreshed by thee, brother.

New Living Translation Your love has given me much joy and comfort, my brother, for your kindness has often refreshed the hearts of God’s people.

My favorite is the version in blue.  For me it has been a life-changing experience.  Consciously treating others with respect and love.  It doesn’t matter if you are in line with me at the grocery store, my server at a restaurant, or a friend.  I will be kind.  I will show you love.  I will.  And if I fail to do that, which I will do at times, I will feel sorrow over the encounter, and I’ll hope that someone else made you feel good that day.

Goals like this are interesting.  I set out to make sure I am kind to others and that they walk away feeling refreshed, but I am the one who always feels better.

Four years ago I wrote a blog post about feeling nostalgic.  Here is a portion of that post.

Another memory came in the form of a smell. I got a free bottle of Avon bodywash at a picnic. The first time I used it I smelled my Mamaw Owen’s bathroom. I loved that bathroom. It had a pedestal sink and a claw foot tub. There was a chest of drawers that had no telling how many coats of paint on it in the corner. The bathroom door closed automatically so there was a little wooden stool that she used to prop the door open. The light had to be turned on by pulling a string hanging from the bulb in the center of the room. And there was Avon. The top of the dresser was covered with bottles and tubes of powders, lotions, and shampoos, and the top drawer held even more goodies. For a little girl it was like heaven!

My grandmother raised her children in that house.  It was part of the family.  After Alzheimer’s started to weave itself through my grandmother’s memory my dad and aunt decided it was time to for her to leave that house.  She was to live with my Aunt up north.  The house was cleaned out and sold.  I knew that much of her things went with her to my Aunt’s house, but I honestly had no idea what was done with most of it.

My grandmother died in 2008, and with her death came even more nostalgia over her house and the things I loved in it.  I was sad that I would never get to show my kids some of the things that reminded me of her.  I shared my memories with them, but I couldn’t share the experiences.

This summer during our trip up north we visited my aunt.  At one point during the stay I needed to enter a room that had been closed up.  Imagine my surprise to see this sitting in the corner.

It was the little stool that had propped my grandmother’s bathroom door open.  I had thought about that silly little stool many times over the years figuring it had been given away or something.  It wasn’t good for much more than propping a door because it was so small.  Every time I had ever tried to stand on it it would fall over.  I learned from my aunt that my grandfather had brought the stool home from work one day.  I can’t imagine what grown men used the stool for.  I guess I’ll never know.  What I do know is that some day I hope to get this stool.  It’s just one of those things I’ve always wanted.

And to put the tiny stool into perspective I took a picture of Will standing on it.  Will is 5’3″.  He looks like a giant compared to the stool!  (And then he stood on it for as long as he could to practice for Survivor, because he will be on that show one day.)

Speaking of things that make me uncomfortable here’s another one for you.

Heights.  I’m not scared of heights for myself as much as I am scared for others.  If my kids get near the hand railing of any raised surface my vajayjay shrivels up into an uncomfortable mass.  And yes I said vajayjay, and yes I really mean that.  That’s where it hurts.  Seriously.  In fact it doesn’t even have to be my kids.  It can be anyone’s kids.  Or even some adults.  Once I was flipping through the channels to see what was on, and I stopped on 19 Kids and Counting.  Don’t judge me.  The Duggers were enjoying an adventure exploring some beautiful place.  It was canyon like.  They stood near the edge, and I reacted.  There were so many of them and the kids just wandered around.  At no point was anyone in danger of going over the edge, but it still made me wince.  Then they crossed a narrow bridge, and I thought I would die.  I finally realized that I could turn the channel and not subject myself to the torture of it all.

My kids know this about me and enjoy watching me cringe and react to it all.  Niagara Falls just about killed me.  If they just stood there looking out that was fine.  If they did this I got weak in the knees.  Holding on to the railing and leaning their heads over…no I cannot handle it.  I can barely look at this picture.   At this point they started to pretend to be about to climb up on the railing just to wig me out.  One foot would come up off the ground, and I would freak.  At no point were they ever on the railing nor was the other foot off the ground.  It was just the idea of it all.

I know I have issues.

This morning I was talking with a friend on the phone.  She was giving me a play by play on a cooking show she was watching on TV.  Here’s how the conversation went.

Her:  He’s putting bacon fat in this pot.  What kind of pot is that?  I’ve never seen a pot like that in my life.  I want one.

Me:  I don’t know.  I am not watching TV.

Her:  Now he’s putting onion, celery, and garlic in the bacon grease.  That’s the Holy Trinity!  

Me:  The Holy Trinity?  Hahahaha.  

Her:  No seriously.  Don’t be laughing at the Holy Trinity.  That’s sacrilegious. 

Me:  Oh ok then.  I’m gonna go now.  I need a shower.

Her:  And now he’s putting fatback in the pan.  Do you hear that sizzling?  It smells so good!

Me:  No, I’m not watching TV.  Ok, going now…

Her:  Now he’s adding cabbage.  YUM! 

Me:  Bye

Her:  Bye

At this point I get in the shower.  I barely have time to get wet and my phone chimes.  Then it chimes again.  I wash my hair.  It chimes again.  After 5 chimes I finally step out of the shower to see who and what’s so important.

By text…

Her:  He’s putting ANDOUILLE SAUSAGE in the cabbage!!!  SCORE!

Her:  AAANNNNDDDDDD…He’s making brisket in a pressure cooker.  Oh mon Dieu!

Her:  W/ garlic, carrots, mushrooms, celery, baby turnips, red potatoes in beef broth.  Slap yo mama!!

Her:  Next up…Granpa’s cornbread in a cast iron skillet.

Her:  TURN ON CH 8…he’s plating!

Me: (trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard at “He’s plating!”) I’m in the shower!  I finally got out to find out what was so exciting that my phone was blowing up.  Now there’s a puddle of water on the floor.

Her:  Yeah, it’s making me puddle, too! 

Me:  I was just thinking the same thing!  Hahahahaha

Me:  You might need a cigarette after that climax!

Her:  Chil’ talk about good!

Her:  Fo’ sure!

Me:  All this food/sex talk is kinda turning me on.  Now I need a cold shower.

Her:  I need a pressure cooker.

Me:  You’re killing me. 

I am not a fan of suspense.  I am not a fan of the waiting and wondering and thrill of it.  I don’t want to watch movies that keep me hanging on until the last minute.  They make my stomach hurt.  I am fine watching a movie like that if I already know the outcome.  I can relax and enjoy the scenery, appreciate the dialog, and concentrate on the characters if I know what will happen.  Most people don’t get this.  If I’m watching a movie that has already been seen by someone with me I ask for the outcome before/while watching the movie.  Most of the time I am told that I have to just watch it to find out.  I would rather turn it off than actually watch it at that point.  I have a hard time understanding why people won’t just tell me what happens.  Why they think I have to wait and see for it to be enjoyable is beyond me.  I tell them it makes me uncomfortable and am still denied the outcome.  I have been known to be with friends who are watching a movie and when things get suspenseful I will move to a place where I cannot see the TV.  I would rather not watch it than feel that sick, uncomfortable feeling.  Why is this so hard to understand?  It isn’t ruining the movie for me.  It’s making it an enjoyable experience.  Many years ago I was watching Silence of the Lambs with my wasband.  He hadn’t seen the movie either.  When it got to parts that my stomach couldn’t take I stood in the hallway and asked for a play by play.  He knew me well enough to know that I would not be sitting back down on the couch and graciously told me what was happening.  I eventually returned to the couch but made numerous trips to the hall during the movie.  Because of my discomfort and the unwillingness of others to play along I rarely watch suspenseful movies.  I’m sure I’ve missed out on quite a few good films this way, but I can’t help it.  It’s just who I am.

I was thinking about my long absence from blogging today.  There were so many times that I was tempted to write here.  At night while I was falling asleep I would compose blog posts in my head.  Some life event would get me thinking and I always think better by writing things down.  I never actually sat down and wrote what went through my head though.  I’m not sure why.  Laziness maybe.  I still suffer from that laziness.  I don’t know how prolific a blogger I’ll be now that I’m back.  We’ll see I guess.

Speaking of laziness this is my last week of summer laziness before school stuff starts.  I will be in workshops for the next two weeks then back to school for inservice.  The kids don’t actually start until the 22 of August, but sadly I must return to a regular schedule August 1.  I am hesitantly excited about this school year.  My principal decided it was time that I graduated from Kindergarten so this coming school year I’ve been promoted to 5th grade.  Going from teaching the babies to the big kids will be a huge adjustment.  I will be teaching Language Arts and Social Studies to two different classes of 5th graders.  I will have papers to grade and projects to plan.  I love both subjects which is a huge plus, but I haven’t taught either of them in so long that I feel a tad lost as far as where to start.  Thankfully the teacher I am replacing is now our assistant principal/curriculum facilitator so she will be available to help if necessary.  I don’t doubt my ability to do a good job I just want to make sure to use the resources available to help me.

And now, because it is late…not because I’m lazy, I’m going to go to sleep.