I Don't Do New Year's Resolutions...

I don't do New Year's resolutions...  That is not to say that I don't have goals and ambitions or things that I would like to accomplish during the course of a year.  I just don't usually contemplate them at the beginning of the year. I'm more apt to set goals around my birthday...

However, I just happened to view my own blogs and realized that this last year was kind of miserly in terms of posts.  I know that there were several times this last year that I said the phrase, "I gotta blog about this..." and yet those stories are not here. That makes me sad.

There is so much that has happened in my life since May that has been influenced by the distress of my job.  And my job took over my life.  Literally.  I started working 10-15 hours a day.  I stopped blogging. I stopped taking pictures. I stopped travelling. I stopped eating right. I stopped laughing.  And that has got to stop.

I'm not quite sure how to accomplish the taking back of my life.  Maybe the first step is in acknowledging that I am not ok with this.  So...I have taken that first step.  I'll let you know when I figure out what the second step is.

Getting Old...

Most of the time I can avoid the realization.  I have a job that allows me to play catch and four-square, sing silly songs, lead messy science experiments and sleep-in late in the summer.  On my own time I play computer games and go on adventures with my camera and exporations with my car.  Mostly, I don't have time to think about getting old...

But sometimes the realization smacks me in the face.

I have been getting headaches lately, that are directly connected to the times that I am reading, grading or planning lessons.  So, yesterday, I had my first ever eye-exam.  I need glasses.  Not just any glasses. Bifocals.  (Nothing says, "old" like bifocals...unless it's trifocals.) I need support reading and I have an astigmatism.

Now you might be thinking, "Nobody has to know you have bifocals...just get the no-line lenses."  But the doctor tells me that the no-line lenses cause waviness in your peripheral vision.  Since I am not willing to sacrifice any of my peripheral vision...in my photography or my teaching (75% of all inappropriate behavior in the classroom takes place in my peripheral vision.)...I find myself not only having to admit to myself that I am getting old but I also have to announce it to the world.

So, I will be out with all of the crazy people who enjoy shopping during the holidays, trying to find a pair of frames that will just say "old"...not "old nerd". 

By the way, this will take place on Black Friday.  Yeah.  I don't know what I'm thinking either.  If nothing else, it will give me something to blog about.

I'm Part Leprechaun...

I know it is not a Monday but I am sharing a memory in honor of St. Patrick's Day. 

The students that are currently in my sixth grade class are the same students that were in kindergarten the year I was Mrs. Jackson's (kindergarten) assistant.  It was a difficult year for me.  Mostly because I have a difficult time teaching foundational knowledge that needs to be learned by rote.  Playing and interacting with them was great but teaching them "short vowel sounds" and "counting to one hundred"...not my thing.

On St. Patrick's Day I decided to pull their leg a little...ok...a lot.  While Mrs. Jackson took them upstairs to visit the bake sale, I stayed behind to set the stage.  First, I locked the door, opened the emergency exit window and knocked over a few chairs.  Then I took $5.00 in pennies and scattered them all over the room and put a blue marble in each student's pencil box.  Finally, I stood at the door, listening for their return.  When I heard them outside the door, I started yelling, "Stop! No! What do you think you are doing? I'm not letting you go! You're mine now! etc."  Mrs. Jackson tries to come in and finds the door locked and starts pounding on the door yelling, "Ms. Janet?  What's going on?  Are you ok?" (She's was always ready to play along with my schemes...plus she had plenty of her own!)

I finally come and open the door and I stand there, disheveled and gasping for air.  I had never seen that class so quiet or their eyes so huge.  They didn't say anything.  Mrs. Jackson asks me what happened and I gasp out, "There...(gasp)...was a...(gasp)...Leprechaun...(gasp)"

The kids came into the room...sort of (they pretty much stayed by the door at first) and I told them what happened.  "I was going with you to the bake sale but I heard a noise in the classroom so I went back and there he was...just standing there...a Leprechaun.  I knew that if I could catch him he would have to give me his gold so I locked the door and chased him around the room.  He kept tripping over the chairs so I was able to grab him as he was trying to go out the emergency window.  But then he got loose.  He got away but I tore a hole in his money bag and his gold spilled all over the room!"

The kids still haven't said a word.

"You can keep whatever you can find..."  They still don't say anything but they do start scrambing around collecting pennies.

Finally, one boy asks, "What was he doing here?"

"I don't know," I said, "but I saw him messing with some pencil boxes."

They all make a run for their pencil boxes and discover little blue balls of glass.  "He left us this."

I gasp loudly and then, in my best "hushed-whisper-of-awe" voice I say, "Do....you....know...what...that...is??  That is an Imagination Ball!  The legends say that as long as you have an Imagination Ball you will have an ammmmmaaaaazzzzzing imagination!"

Soft "oohs" and "aahs" from the kids.


Now, I probably should have stopped here.  But no.  One of the kids says, "How do you know about the Imagination Ball?"

"I'm part Leprechaun.  Because my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was a Leprechaun."

"No, he wasn't."

"Yes, he was.  His name was Littleberry Roach...and if that's not a Leprechaun name, I don't know what is."

"You mean your great-grandpa was green?!"

"Real Leprechauns aren't green...that's just in the movies.  Real Leprechauns look just like everybody else...they just have special skills."

"Do you have special skills?"

"Yes.  I can tell good stories and I can make people laugh."

GASP "It's true you guys!! She tells good stories!"

It Started with Some Mistletoe...

This is really an installment of Memories from Mondays Gone by...on a Wednesday.

About a decade ago...when I was still in Washington State, my youngest brother and I were the only ones still living at home. (Actually, I was living at home AGAIN. You know, they talk about the boomerang generation...adult kids that move back in with mom and dad...I'm more of a yo-yo.)  Anyway.  We had not had  a decorated Christmas in a couple of years and for some reason, Tim and I decided that we would be funny and hang a single sprig of mistletoe in the living room. 

So, we dig out the Christmas decorations and a step-ladder and attach the mistletoe to the light fixture in our living room.  Then we step back to admire our handiwork.  That's when our attention focussed on the step-ladder.  Evidently, we both had the same silly idea at the same time because we just smiled at each other and proceeded to decorate our metal "Christmas tree."

When Mom and Dad got home, they were greeted by a gleaming silver "tree" complete with garland and bows.

And I don't think they ever noticed the mistletoe.

Memories of Mondays Gone By...Thanksgiving Edition

I love Thanksgiving.  I love the food...the turkey, the stuffing, the sweet potatoes, the pumpkin pie.  I don't like the cranberry jelly but other than that... I even like the green beans.  I remember a Thanksgiving when I was about three, my mother asked me how many green beans I wanted. I answered "6."  That's a big number to a 3-year old.  My 5-year old cousin David overheard my answer and got all excited and proclaimed that he would take 6 green beans as well.  I also remember several Thanksgiving poker games where we used the vegetable tray instead of chips..."I'll see your radish and raise you an olive."

I love the football...Grandpa was very big on team loyalty.  My cousin Brent was the only one who ever dared to oppose him.  He was a die-hard Raiders fan in a Seahawk family.  I remember my mother cheering during the game.  Whenever her team was doing poorly she would yell, "Dang!"  Whenever her team was doing well she would yell, "Hot Dang!"

And I love the friends and family.  I love the hugs, the laughter, the memories (or exaggerated stories), and all the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make a family...yours.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  And I am very grateful indeed.