Well, I've proven that blogging is not my priority as it's been about two years since my last post. It's not even worth trying to recount a blow by blow account of that time. Suffice it to say, that I've simply been living life...just like you.
If you're reading this, chances are that I have known you many years. Therefore, I like you, we have a friendship that's valuable to me, and I'd choose for said friendship to continue. Since this is likely to remain an occasional blog and even partial responsibility for serious bodily harm is not consistent with my two decades of work in health care, I offer this tidbit of free advice: DEFINITELY DON'T TRY HOLDING YOUR BREATH BETWEEN POSTS.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Monday, March 15, 2010
Et tu, Brute?
Time…let’s talk about time for a bit. It only took two entries in my blog before a dear friend pointed out the difficulty in counting time. I said that January 2010 began a new decade and she wisely pointed out that the new decade officially begins in 2011. I can follow the mathematical proof that gets that conclusion but am really challenged by the idea that the ‘80’s began in 1981.
That’s only one of the whack things about time. Another utterly WHACK thing about time is the whole ‘spring forward/fall back’ thing. Even if you do understand why we do that, I don’t want you to explain it to me. All I know about it is that it’s a hassle. Case in point: some of the clocks in my house adjust for DST automatically, but others do not; I got a new alarm clock this summer; in order to be on time to work this past Sunday morning, I reset the timer on my coffee maker, and my new alarm clock.; when said alarm clock went off at the appointed hour, my husband checked his atomic, read absolutely accurate, clock and informed me that mine was off by an hour…yep, that’s right, I managed to lose not one, but two hours of sleep last Saturday. Well, I clearly do not qualify as a genius.
It’s the Ides of March…today. We count days the same way the Romans did, or at least similarly enough that many an adult can recall that this is the date, or at least reputed to be the date, of the famous attack at the forum that resulted in the death of Julius Caesar. Pretty amazing if you think about it.
Most kids I know spend months planning for their birthdays, but somewhere along the way those bouncing kids, who were once debating between Strawberry Shortcake or Barbie for party theme, become adults who, as often as not, sigh and say, “Yep, I’m another year older. Where did the time go?” When I was a teenager stressed out about grades and whether or not the boy I had a crush on would EVER notice that I existed, I used to say, “Stop the world. I want to get off.” I don’t know where else I thought I might go, but even then, I could tell that the passing of time was a significant contributing factor to my tension.
The older I get, the more convinced I am that time is the most valuable commodity there is. I mean, over my lifetime, I’ve discovered through a variety of circumstances that there’s always an option to obtain more money, another job, and, for that matter, new friends, after all, most of us meet new people every week. All of which really works the point back around to time…again.
Then last weekend, before my time change trauma, I got an e-mail message from a dear friend. We only get to talk about once a year, but she’s the kind of friend that would do anything for me, and she has sacrificed much on more than one occasion for my benefit. When we do make our annual phone call, we talk as if we’ve been seeing each other every day like we used to before our lives moved us to homes that are thousands of miles apart. We share the kind of friendship that will only exist with a handful of people in my lifetime. She included a link saying her family had ‘big stuff’ going on and asked for my prayers. Naturally, considering the source, I read on, clicked the link, signed in to read the information she was sharing and found myself weeping in shock to find that her sweet husband has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
WOW! Ummm…yeah…well, talk about ‘whack.’ That sort of news will prompt a major change of perspective. My reaction surprised me…but I seriously could not stop the tears. Thinking of the potential changes her family faced and trying to imagine a world without this man, who is truly kind, with a most delightful sense of humor and making such a positive contribution to his community and family just made me incredibly sad. So I did what every self respecting participant in popular culture does these days; I posted a status update to my facebook profile. Within minutes, literally, several other kind friends had contacted me offering kind words and prayers for this family facing cancer. It was incredibly humbling. The technology that makes instantaneous communication available is mind boggling…well to me anyway. My many tech savvy friends can actually explain how it works, but this week, I’m just grateful it does.
The next day, I managed to call my friend and listened to her explain all about what their path, thus far, has been like and that the outlook at this point is good with a surgery on the horizon. Of course, only TIME (there it is again, that word) will tell for sure how this journey will unfold for them…well, for all of us who are going along with them because we love them. But that’s prompted me to ponder the value of time further and look toward determining whether I’m truly making the best use of the time I have. Because one thing that occurred to me this week, after receiving this news, is that similar news may be coming to my house someday. That might sound selfish, but I don’t mean it that way at all. I mean that it’s taken knowing my friend is facing a potentially life threatening illness to examine my priorities. Since this is March 15th, I naturally went to Shakespeare for some inspiration and found this spoken by Caesar himself in act II of the play nearly universally studied by high school students.
"Cowards die many times before their deaths,The valiant never taste of death but once."
Knowing my friends as I do, I can safely say that cowardice is NOT an attribute either one of them will struggle to overcome as they journey through cancer treatment. Already, they demonstrate valor in their approach. Our bodies will wear out so that we must all die once; I resolve to be valiant in every moment of every single day so that I won’t have to experience the pain of partial death that can result from selling out to cowardly choices. I’m going to ask for patience from you on this; if we are talking and I say something that comes across as a bit too direct, please understand. It might be the best I can do in that moment and I’m learning that ‘that moment’ might be the last one we get to share especially if we have to keep changing the clocks.
That’s only one of the whack things about time. Another utterly WHACK thing about time is the whole ‘spring forward/fall back’ thing. Even if you do understand why we do that, I don’t want you to explain it to me. All I know about it is that it’s a hassle. Case in point: some of the clocks in my house adjust for DST automatically, but others do not; I got a new alarm clock this summer; in order to be on time to work this past Sunday morning, I reset the timer on my coffee maker, and my new alarm clock.; when said alarm clock went off at the appointed hour, my husband checked his atomic, read absolutely accurate, clock and informed me that mine was off by an hour…yep, that’s right, I managed to lose not one, but two hours of sleep last Saturday. Well, I clearly do not qualify as a genius.
It’s the Ides of March…today. We count days the same way the Romans did, or at least similarly enough that many an adult can recall that this is the date, or at least reputed to be the date, of the famous attack at the forum that resulted in the death of Julius Caesar. Pretty amazing if you think about it.
Most kids I know spend months planning for their birthdays, but somewhere along the way those bouncing kids, who were once debating between Strawberry Shortcake or Barbie for party theme, become adults who, as often as not, sigh and say, “Yep, I’m another year older. Where did the time go?” When I was a teenager stressed out about grades and whether or not the boy I had a crush on would EVER notice that I existed, I used to say, “Stop the world. I want to get off.” I don’t know where else I thought I might go, but even then, I could tell that the passing of time was a significant contributing factor to my tension.
The older I get, the more convinced I am that time is the most valuable commodity there is. I mean, over my lifetime, I’ve discovered through a variety of circumstances that there’s always an option to obtain more money, another job, and, for that matter, new friends, after all, most of us meet new people every week. All of which really works the point back around to time…again.
Then last weekend, before my time change trauma, I got an e-mail message from a dear friend. We only get to talk about once a year, but she’s the kind of friend that would do anything for me, and she has sacrificed much on more than one occasion for my benefit. When we do make our annual phone call, we talk as if we’ve been seeing each other every day like we used to before our lives moved us to homes that are thousands of miles apart. We share the kind of friendship that will only exist with a handful of people in my lifetime. She included a link saying her family had ‘big stuff’ going on and asked for my prayers. Naturally, considering the source, I read on, clicked the link, signed in to read the information she was sharing and found myself weeping in shock to find that her sweet husband has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
WOW! Ummm…yeah…well, talk about ‘whack.’ That sort of news will prompt a major change of perspective. My reaction surprised me…but I seriously could not stop the tears. Thinking of the potential changes her family faced and trying to imagine a world without this man, who is truly kind, with a most delightful sense of humor and making such a positive contribution to his community and family just made me incredibly sad. So I did what every self respecting participant in popular culture does these days; I posted a status update to my facebook profile. Within minutes, literally, several other kind friends had contacted me offering kind words and prayers for this family facing cancer. It was incredibly humbling. The technology that makes instantaneous communication available is mind boggling…well to me anyway. My many tech savvy friends can actually explain how it works, but this week, I’m just grateful it does.
The next day, I managed to call my friend and listened to her explain all about what their path, thus far, has been like and that the outlook at this point is good with a surgery on the horizon. Of course, only TIME (there it is again, that word) will tell for sure how this journey will unfold for them…well, for all of us who are going along with them because we love them. But that’s prompted me to ponder the value of time further and look toward determining whether I’m truly making the best use of the time I have. Because one thing that occurred to me this week, after receiving this news, is that similar news may be coming to my house someday. That might sound selfish, but I don’t mean it that way at all. I mean that it’s taken knowing my friend is facing a potentially life threatening illness to examine my priorities. Since this is March 15th, I naturally went to Shakespeare for some inspiration and found this spoken by Caesar himself in act II of the play nearly universally studied by high school students.
"Cowards die many times before their deaths,The valiant never taste of death but once."
Knowing my friends as I do, I can safely say that cowardice is NOT an attribute either one of them will struggle to overcome as they journey through cancer treatment. Already, they demonstrate valor in their approach. Our bodies will wear out so that we must all die once; I resolve to be valiant in every moment of every single day so that I won’t have to experience the pain of partial death that can result from selling out to cowardly choices. I’m going to ask for patience from you on this; if we are talking and I say something that comes across as a bit too direct, please understand. It might be the best I can do in that moment and I’m learning that ‘that moment’ might be the last one we get to share especially if we have to keep changing the clocks.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Find Yourself
I’ve got pretty eclectic taste in music. After all, logging more hours than I can count in the ballet studio means developing a certain appreciation for Chopin, Mozart, Tchaikovsky and even Stravinsky, though his music is far from a favorite. I’m no musician though and you really don’t want me singing anywhere near you. When I was in high school, I was in the marching band—well, the color guard, technically, but marching band music is still really special to me. I love the stuff so much that when a drum and bugle corps held practice at our local high school this summer, I packed dinner for my family and made them all go with me to listen and watch the group drill on the field. Once a band geek, always a band geek, apparently.
So, anyway, I like 80’s pop, some disco, contemporary Christian, traditional church hymns and country. Yes, I said COUNTRY! I have a particular fondness for Kenny Chesney, Phil Vassar and Brad Paisley. I’d venture to say that Brad Paisley is on the cutting edge of incredible wit. The man must have an absolutely wicked sense of humor, else how could he write songs like ‘Celebrity’ or ‘Ticks’ or ‘I’m Still a Guy’ or my personal favorite of late ‘Online.’ I mean any song that pokes fun at the potential pitfalls of the internet based social networking sites and includes an actual marching band is pretty cool in my book. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m pitifully addicted to facebook. It’s beyond amazing that there’s a forum for keeping up with friends who live all over the world so easily, and I’m judicious about what I post. If I put it on facebook, then I’m fine with the rest of the known world seeing it…what others post is beyond my control and accounts for the majority of the photos of me in shiny gold lamé, which a delightful friend of mine, who shared the colorguard experience with me, says should really be spelled without the accented ‘e,’ but I digress--what was I saying before I got distracted by the lamé?
Oh, right, Brad Paisley… I received a generous gift of three Brad Paisley CDs for Christmas, two that I requested and a bonus third that I didn’t even know existed, from my father-in-law and am enjoying them immensely. Then, out of the blue, though I don’t really believe in coincidence, a very dear, longtime friend, but not particularly a country music fan, that keeps in touch via facebook posted the link to Brad’s video for “Welcome to the Future.” That’s a super song too all about the changes in daily life over just the last 20 years or so, due to the technology available. It IS pretty amazing that the video games my peers played on huge consoles in arcades now operate easily on handheld devices. But he was brave enough to offer some social commentary about the civil rights movement as well…pure genius, to my way of thinking, because the progress is all related.
Along with the music, I decided to hunt around on the web to see what else I could find out about this talented and quick witted artist. First of all, his blog (this link will take you to my favorite entry http://bradpaisley.musiccitynetworks.com/?inc=59&blog_id=2741&page_id=14678 ) is hysterically funny and insightful at the same time. And then I remembered an interview of him I saw years ago that had a cameo with his parents talking about how he was overwhelmed to be considered an entertainer of sufficient talent that he was literally speechless on being invited to be a member of the Grand Ole Opry. Say it with me, “Awww…how nice.” Another time I heard him talking about how he met his wife. That’s a pretty sweet and romantic love story that’s still unfolding as they now have two children and appear to be completely devoted to each other. So then I went to my trusty iPod and found the Paisley playlist. It’s been wonderful to hear some songs that I’d not heard in a while like ‘He Didn’t Have to Be’ the very touching ballad about a stellar step father and “Letter to Me” which focuses on the advice he would give to his teenage self if it were possible to send a letter back in time. Hmmm…lots more than comedy going on in that brain, making his music even more impressive. Then “When We All Get to Heaven” plays. Beautiful guitar and familiar lyrics in that sweet, smooth voice reminds me of the eternity I’m striving for.
Then comes “Find Yourself” from the movie soundtrack for “Cars.” Ouch…that’s the last movie I saw in the theater with my dad. (Yeah, he died three years ago this Saturday. I don’t dwell on that, but I know the date by heart. The same way I know my husband’s birthday and our wedding anniversary.) My parents were in town for a visit shortly after “Cars” was released, and Dad always loved movies, so we all escaped the Memphis summer in the local movie theater with lots of popcorn and diet coke. It was a fun time. Now I can’t say that visits with my dad were fun as a rule, so that little sentence is pretty significant. There were plenty of times he and I did not get along and even other episodes where there was no love lost between us. But this was a good time, and we remember it fondly, especially when the kids are missing Papa. This song is a bit plaintive in its reflection on the price of progress, but reaches the conclusion that you can ‘find yourself’ in much better circumstances ultimately by being open to the road in front of you even if it seems to head in an unexpected or wrong direction. After the funeral, this song used to bring tears to my eyes every time I heard it, but now… that only happens to me sometimes when it plays.
After this little trip down memory lane, I go back to listening to my new CDs. What a relief the comedy is. I’m laughing, the kids are laughing, my husband is listening but not being particularly into music, he doesn’t start laughing until “The Cigar Song” plays.
BWWWWWWahahahahahahahahaha!!!
Track 12 comes on, keep in mind that this is a new CD and I’ve only glanced at the song titles, and almost immediately I’m dissolving into a puddle while my kids sing along with the mellow voice. He’s, well all of them are, singing a song I haven’t heard in many years, but it’s absolutely unmistakably a song my dad used to play. He liked the Carter family and played their music often. I never cared for their harmonizing style, and said so on more than one occasion directly to Dad which offended him but didn’t stop him from playing the song. Yet, here in my minivan with my family, I’ve been caught in a most bizarre time warp hearing both the Brad Paisley recording on my stereo and the Carter family version echoing in my head with my own kids accompanying “Keep On The Sunny Side.” Fortunately, the kids didn’t really notice my reaction and my husband was driving, leaving me free to cope without distraction. I did and manage to compose myself and push past the whole experience. Ironically, I like Brad’s, I say as if I’m somehow on a first name basis with this megastar, version, and not just kinda sorta either. The kids ask me to play that CD pretty often right now. Even though I really like the song, without fail, I cry at track 12…which may be okay; I’m not sure. I couldn’t really cry when my dad passed away, so maybe it’s catching up with me now. My friend says that’s how grief is; it just finds its way out. Of all the potential triggers, talk about random…one of my favorite singers has recorded a song I never liked that I received on, you guessed it, that third CD, the one I didn’t know existed.
To steal a line from Bill Cosby, “I didn’t come here to tell you all that.” Honestly, I had no idea all that was floating around in my head; I thought I was trying to get housework done between teaching math and grammar today. Oh well…sigh
If ever I get the chance to meet Brad Paisley, maybe I’ll tell him how his music has been part of the journey to find myself… in the meantime, my sister tells me she found white, flavorless Nerd’s candies in a box she got at the movie theater.
All together now, “That’s whack!!”
I mean, really, what would be the point of such a thing? Hmmmm…I have no idea, sorry. Though since I’m one of the 10 people in the Memphis metro area who has yet to see “The Blind Side” maybe I can check into the matter at my local movie theater. While I’m out, you can check into Brad Paisley’s music; be careful, though, even if you’re not a country music fan, you just might find yourself. I’m told that sometimes happens in the most unexpected ways…
So, anyway, I like 80’s pop, some disco, contemporary Christian, traditional church hymns and country. Yes, I said COUNTRY! I have a particular fondness for Kenny Chesney, Phil Vassar and Brad Paisley. I’d venture to say that Brad Paisley is on the cutting edge of incredible wit. The man must have an absolutely wicked sense of humor, else how could he write songs like ‘Celebrity’ or ‘Ticks’ or ‘I’m Still a Guy’ or my personal favorite of late ‘Online.’ I mean any song that pokes fun at the potential pitfalls of the internet based social networking sites and includes an actual marching band is pretty cool in my book. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m pitifully addicted to facebook. It’s beyond amazing that there’s a forum for keeping up with friends who live all over the world so easily, and I’m judicious about what I post. If I put it on facebook, then I’m fine with the rest of the known world seeing it…what others post is beyond my control and accounts for the majority of the photos of me in shiny gold lamé, which a delightful friend of mine, who shared the colorguard experience with me, says should really be spelled without the accented ‘e,’ but I digress--what was I saying before I got distracted by the lamé?
Oh, right, Brad Paisley… I received a generous gift of three Brad Paisley CDs for Christmas, two that I requested and a bonus third that I didn’t even know existed, from my father-in-law and am enjoying them immensely. Then, out of the blue, though I don’t really believe in coincidence, a very dear, longtime friend, but not particularly a country music fan, that keeps in touch via facebook posted the link to Brad’s video for “Welcome to the Future.” That’s a super song too all about the changes in daily life over just the last 20 years or so, due to the technology available. It IS pretty amazing that the video games my peers played on huge consoles in arcades now operate easily on handheld devices. But he was brave enough to offer some social commentary about the civil rights movement as well…pure genius, to my way of thinking, because the progress is all related.
Along with the music, I decided to hunt around on the web to see what else I could find out about this talented and quick witted artist. First of all, his blog (this link will take you to my favorite entry http://bradpaisley.musiccitynetworks.com/?inc=59&blog_id=2741&page_id=14678 ) is hysterically funny and insightful at the same time. And then I remembered an interview of him I saw years ago that had a cameo with his parents talking about how he was overwhelmed to be considered an entertainer of sufficient talent that he was literally speechless on being invited to be a member of the Grand Ole Opry. Say it with me, “Awww…how nice.” Another time I heard him talking about how he met his wife. That’s a pretty sweet and romantic love story that’s still unfolding as they now have two children and appear to be completely devoted to each other. So then I went to my trusty iPod and found the Paisley playlist. It’s been wonderful to hear some songs that I’d not heard in a while like ‘He Didn’t Have to Be’ the very touching ballad about a stellar step father and “Letter to Me” which focuses on the advice he would give to his teenage self if it were possible to send a letter back in time. Hmmm…lots more than comedy going on in that brain, making his music even more impressive. Then “When We All Get to Heaven” plays. Beautiful guitar and familiar lyrics in that sweet, smooth voice reminds me of the eternity I’m striving for.
Then comes “Find Yourself” from the movie soundtrack for “Cars.” Ouch…that’s the last movie I saw in the theater with my dad. (Yeah, he died three years ago this Saturday. I don’t dwell on that, but I know the date by heart. The same way I know my husband’s birthday and our wedding anniversary.) My parents were in town for a visit shortly after “Cars” was released, and Dad always loved movies, so we all escaped the Memphis summer in the local movie theater with lots of popcorn and diet coke. It was a fun time. Now I can’t say that visits with my dad were fun as a rule, so that little sentence is pretty significant. There were plenty of times he and I did not get along and even other episodes where there was no love lost between us. But this was a good time, and we remember it fondly, especially when the kids are missing Papa. This song is a bit plaintive in its reflection on the price of progress, but reaches the conclusion that you can ‘find yourself’ in much better circumstances ultimately by being open to the road in front of you even if it seems to head in an unexpected or wrong direction. After the funeral, this song used to bring tears to my eyes every time I heard it, but now… that only happens to me sometimes when it plays.
After this little trip down memory lane, I go back to listening to my new CDs. What a relief the comedy is. I’m laughing, the kids are laughing, my husband is listening but not being particularly into music, he doesn’t start laughing until “The Cigar Song” plays.
BWWWWWWahahahahahahahahaha!!!
Track 12 comes on, keep in mind that this is a new CD and I’ve only glanced at the song titles, and almost immediately I’m dissolving into a puddle while my kids sing along with the mellow voice. He’s, well all of them are, singing a song I haven’t heard in many years, but it’s absolutely unmistakably a song my dad used to play. He liked the Carter family and played their music often. I never cared for their harmonizing style, and said so on more than one occasion directly to Dad which offended him but didn’t stop him from playing the song. Yet, here in my minivan with my family, I’ve been caught in a most bizarre time warp hearing both the Brad Paisley recording on my stereo and the Carter family version echoing in my head with my own kids accompanying “Keep On The Sunny Side.” Fortunately, the kids didn’t really notice my reaction and my husband was driving, leaving me free to cope without distraction. I did and manage to compose myself and push past the whole experience. Ironically, I like Brad’s, I say as if I’m somehow on a first name basis with this megastar, version, and not just kinda sorta either. The kids ask me to play that CD pretty often right now. Even though I really like the song, without fail, I cry at track 12…which may be okay; I’m not sure. I couldn’t really cry when my dad passed away, so maybe it’s catching up with me now. My friend says that’s how grief is; it just finds its way out. Of all the potential triggers, talk about random…one of my favorite singers has recorded a song I never liked that I received on, you guessed it, that third CD, the one I didn’t know existed.
To steal a line from Bill Cosby, “I didn’t come here to tell you all that.” Honestly, I had no idea all that was floating around in my head; I thought I was trying to get housework done between teaching math and grammar today. Oh well…sigh
If ever I get the chance to meet Brad Paisley, maybe I’ll tell him how his music has been part of the journey to find myself… in the meantime, my sister tells me she found white, flavorless Nerd’s candies in a box she got at the movie theater.
All together now, “That’s whack!!”
I mean, really, what would be the point of such a thing? Hmmmm…I have no idea, sorry. Though since I’m one of the 10 people in the Memphis metro area who has yet to see “The Blind Side” maybe I can check into the matter at my local movie theater. While I’m out, you can check into Brad Paisley’s music; be careful, though, even if you’re not a country music fan, you just might find yourself. I’m told that sometimes happens in the most unexpected ways…
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
75? Really???
Well, here we go.
I was at Target the other day with my kids. We most always peruse the dollar bins at the front of the store and find great stuff: little containers for organizing around the house, party favors for upcoming birthdays, Diet Coke themed coasters/ball point pens and other cool items. Anyway, I noticed some craft supplies, specifically pompoms and googly eyes. Now for most kids, those are the makings for BIG FUN! So I investigate a bit further while the kids are checking out some other things. Then it hits me--the package of googly eyes says, are you ready for it...yep, you guessed it...in small print 'contains 75 pieces.' FOR REAL...I am not making this up!! So I decide to do a little math tutoring on the fly. (I told you I homeschool and this is one of the benefits, in my opinion.)
I say to the kids, "Hey, would these be good to have around for projects?"
They come peek into the bin and say, "Ummmmmmm, maybe."
Ha! I've got 'em hooked now. "Take a closer look at the googly eyes and tell me how many animals we could make from one package." It takes a minute, but then the smile spreads across my oldest's face as he realizes that the package contains an odd number of googly eyes. Absolutely priceless and better yet, FREE entertainment. So, this, naturally, well naturally in our family anyway, degenerates into a discussion about how we could make 75 Cyclops...Cyclopses?...Cyclopes? (Even after studying Greek and Latin in college, I cannot help them determine the plural form of Cyclops, but I can't help being pleased that they remember the story of the mythical creature with only one eye from our studies last year.)
This is the kind of stuff that just boggles my mind. Not that this is earth shattering, but, seriously, 75 googly eyes in a package? It just makes me wonder if the production cost is such that 100 googly eyes per pack would run the company out of business? And if that is, in fact, the case, did they do ANY market research? I'll admit I'm a sucker for the dollar bins, but I bet I'm not the only soul who would have paid $1 for a package of 50 googly eyes though that would have meant only 50 Cyclopes(yep, that's the plural form...I looked it up) creations....hmmmm, perhaps I should go back to Target...
I was at Target the other day with my kids. We most always peruse the dollar bins at the front of the store and find great stuff: little containers for organizing around the house, party favors for upcoming birthdays, Diet Coke themed coasters/ball point pens and other cool items. Anyway, I noticed some craft supplies, specifically pompoms and googly eyes. Now for most kids, those are the makings for BIG FUN! So I investigate a bit further while the kids are checking out some other things. Then it hits me--the package of googly eyes says, are you ready for it...yep, you guessed it...in small print 'contains 75 pieces.' FOR REAL...I am not making this up!! So I decide to do a little math tutoring on the fly. (I told you I homeschool and this is one of the benefits, in my opinion.)
I say to the kids, "Hey, would these be good to have around for projects?"
They come peek into the bin and say, "Ummmmmmm, maybe."
Ha! I've got 'em hooked now. "Take a closer look at the googly eyes and tell me how many animals we could make from one package." It takes a minute, but then the smile spreads across my oldest's face as he realizes that the package contains an odd number of googly eyes. Absolutely priceless and better yet, FREE entertainment. So, this, naturally, well naturally in our family anyway, degenerates into a discussion about how we could make 75 Cyclops...Cyclopses?...Cyclopes? (Even after studying Greek and Latin in college, I cannot help them determine the plural form of Cyclops, but I can't help being pleased that they remember the story of the mythical creature with only one eye from our studies last year.)
This is the kind of stuff that just boggles my mind. Not that this is earth shattering, but, seriously, 75 googly eyes in a package? It just makes me wonder if the production cost is such that 100 googly eyes per pack would run the company out of business? And if that is, in fact, the case, did they do ANY market research? I'll admit I'm a sucker for the dollar bins, but I bet I'm not the only soul who would have paid $1 for a package of 50 googly eyes though that would have meant only 50 Cyclopes(yep, that's the plural form...I looked it up) creations....hmmmm, perhaps I should go back to Target...
About Me
Just to be clear, it seems I should offer some explanation for the origins of my admittedly sarcastic and somewhat odd perspectives. If you have ever met me face to face, this will be old news, so feel free to move on to the next item on your personal agenda skipping this entry entirely. If we haven't met personally, knowing the following might be helpful in understanding my blog.
I'm a wife, mother and dog owner who is, in actuality, a cat person (more on this issue later). I should clarify that I'm a homeschooling mom which, in and of itself, means that I personally qualify for the epithet 'WHACK' according to some. All I have to say about homeschooling as part of this introduction is that it's what works for my family right now and that it's definitely not for everyone. I'd love to say that I'm a Christian, but really what I mean is that I'm trying to figure out how to be a Christian in my daily life with, in all honesty, mixed results--though I remain undeterred in my effort to become comfortable calling myself such. As I understand the program, it's meant to last a lifetime anyway, so maybe I'm making progress at a reasonable rate here.
I've spent my professional career working in the health care industry as a clinician, that is actually putting my hands on people who need care. (Inevitably, this subject will be a recurring topic here, because some of my work experience has driven me to conclude that the health care provision system is, well, in a word, WHACK.)
Naturally, I have hobbies too. I started scrapbooking in earnest when my first child was a baby though I had, who am I kidding---I still have, boxes of old photos and memorabilia from years ago. That stuff did come in handy at my 20th high school reunion but otherwise, generally, sits in a closet taking up space. I'm working on becoming a better photographer so as to have better material to work with when I scrapbook. Long way to go on that one. When I was a child, I took ballet classes. Lots and lots of ballet classes. Then I grew up; well, I got older anyway, and my schedule became filled with 'adult stuff,' so I quit dancing. Then, for my 37th birthday, I received a generous check and decided to investigate local adult ballet classes. Of course, there are details, but basically, I found only one school that would consider taking an adult ballet student, so I made my return to dance and have managed, over the past 3 years, to gain enough strength to dance in pointe shoes again and even perform, though, on this point I, again, may show an utter lack of relative wisdom. At 40, my days en pointe are waning quickly, but I still take classes. My exercise regimen now also includes a fair dose of pilates and cardio-kickboxing because I figured out, being somewhat alert to life myself, that I won't be able to dance ballet forever.
And last, but most importantly, the title of my blog may leave the impression that I'm somehow dissatisfied with my life. Nothing could be further from the truth. Life is an amazing miracle to me, and there is wonder even in the everyday things that tend to become routine or mundane.
Still, I continually find things that mystify me, and these will become the topics here. I welcome comments. After all, having established that I'm WHACK myself (after my intro, who could argue, right?), some things I just don't get. Maybe you can help me out by explaining...
I'm a wife, mother and dog owner who is, in actuality, a cat person (more on this issue later). I should clarify that I'm a homeschooling mom which, in and of itself, means that I personally qualify for the epithet 'WHACK' according to some. All I have to say about homeschooling as part of this introduction is that it's what works for my family right now and that it's definitely not for everyone. I'd love to say that I'm a Christian, but really what I mean is that I'm trying to figure out how to be a Christian in my daily life with, in all honesty, mixed results--though I remain undeterred in my effort to become comfortable calling myself such. As I understand the program, it's meant to last a lifetime anyway, so maybe I'm making progress at a reasonable rate here.
I've spent my professional career working in the health care industry as a clinician, that is actually putting my hands on people who need care. (Inevitably, this subject will be a recurring topic here, because some of my work experience has driven me to conclude that the health care provision system is, well, in a word, WHACK.)
Naturally, I have hobbies too. I started scrapbooking in earnest when my first child was a baby though I had, who am I kidding---I still have, boxes of old photos and memorabilia from years ago. That stuff did come in handy at my 20th high school reunion but otherwise, generally, sits in a closet taking up space. I'm working on becoming a better photographer so as to have better material to work with when I scrapbook. Long way to go on that one. When I was a child, I took ballet classes. Lots and lots of ballet classes. Then I grew up; well, I got older anyway, and my schedule became filled with 'adult stuff,' so I quit dancing. Then, for my 37th birthday, I received a generous check and decided to investigate local adult ballet classes. Of course, there are details, but basically, I found only one school that would consider taking an adult ballet student, so I made my return to dance and have managed, over the past 3 years, to gain enough strength to dance in pointe shoes again and even perform, though, on this point I, again, may show an utter lack of relative wisdom. At 40, my days en pointe are waning quickly, but I still take classes. My exercise regimen now also includes a fair dose of pilates and cardio-kickboxing because I figured out, being somewhat alert to life myself, that I won't be able to dance ballet forever.
And last, but most importantly, the title of my blog may leave the impression that I'm somehow dissatisfied with my life. Nothing could be further from the truth. Life is an amazing miracle to me, and there is wonder even in the everyday things that tend to become routine or mundane.
Still, I continually find things that mystify me, and these will become the topics here. I welcome comments. After all, having established that I'm WHACK myself (after my intro, who could argue, right?), some things I just don't get. Maybe you can help me out by explaining...
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
THAT'S WHACK
So, as you know, because you're totally alert to life, it's January--the beginning of a new year and a new decade. This makes for an incredibly exciting time, and, for me, at least, promotes a degree of reflection that has caused me to create this blog.
Now, nobody should assume that I really think anything I have to say is particularly noteworthy, but, like you, I can't help noticing things. And some of these things make perfect sense to me; however, other things defy reason, in my mind anyway.
Those will be the primary focus of this occasional blog shared to allow me to clear the inexplicable, those imponderables that might otherwise overshadow daily life and distract me unnecessarily, from my mind. I suppose I hold out hope that writing about these things will free me and provide some additonal coping strategies from the influence of what simply doesn't make sense to me in the world; in short, a response, when faced with a baffling experience, other than uttering "THAT'S WHACK!"
Now, nobody should assume that I really think anything I have to say is particularly noteworthy, but, like you, I can't help noticing things. And some of these things make perfect sense to me; however, other things defy reason, in my mind anyway.
Those will be the primary focus of this occasional blog shared to allow me to clear the inexplicable, those imponderables that might otherwise overshadow daily life and distract me unnecessarily, from my mind. I suppose I hold out hope that writing about these things will free me and provide some additonal coping strategies from the influence of what simply doesn't make sense to me in the world; in short, a response, when faced with a baffling experience, other than uttering "THAT'S WHACK!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)