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.

Long Time, No Post...

Hey all,

I'm still here.  I'm exhausted...but I'm still here.  I underwent a major career shift this summer.  It may not seem that way to some but believe me...major shift.  Last year I was a teacher.  I taught Bible/Christian Worldview and Logic to junior high students.  Two subjects I am passionate about to students just slightly younger than the high school students I thoroughly enjoy.

This year I am a teacher.  I teach Bible and Science to 4th and 5th graders, Spelling and Handwriting to 4th graders and Math to 5th graders.  I am still passionate about Bible but Science?... and Math?...not so much. Spelling was my very worst subject in school and I don't even know how to write in cursive...  It's killing me.

The amount of classroom management, procedures, directions, and guidance I need to provide this year has tripled.  Last year I was able to take students who had basic knowledge and lead them deeper.  This year I have to teach the basic knowledge.  I don't know how to do that. 

I am spending 70 to 90 hours a week at work so far this year.  I am really tired and do not have a lot of time for things like....blogging, let alone things that keep me calm...like photography, reading, or road-tripping.  I will try to check in now and again.

On a final note:
4th and 5th grade certainly provide a plethera of blog fodder...if I could just find the time to share...

Moments from Mondays Gone by...

This morning, as I was reading through some of the blogs that I follow, I noticed that there were a couple of stories involving dogs.  That got me thinking about the dogs we had growing up so I have decided to share a "dog" memory.

Now, we had several dogs growing up and they were all unique...but there was one dog in particular...well, he was special...

His name was Zach.  Zaccheus, actually, because when Dad brought him home the only thing we had to tie him to was a Sycamore tree.  He was a black lab puppy that, before we knew it, turned into a black lab dog.  He was strong and full of energy...uprooting the young Sycamore tree, then tipping over the big swing set (the next thing he was tied to) and then separating the porch from the house...

But before I share this particular memory, I must preface it by saying:

I have a temper.

Some people hear me say that and are shocked.  "I've never even seen you get angry," they say.  That's because I am Christian ADULT who believes in practicing self-control.  But seriously, I have red hair...and I'm Irish...it's kind of a no-brainer.  However, I did not always practice self-control.  In fact, when I was young, I very rarely practiced self-control.

So anyway, I am coming home from school one day (I was about 12) and it was a bad day...maybe...at least I like to think I was already having an awful day because it makes my reaction seem a little less...insane...
Zach is all excited because now there are kids and kids means he will be let loose and he can play.  Even as it was happening, I knew that he didn't do it on purpose, but... he was soooo excited to see me and he's barking and jumping around and (when I got close enough) putting his paws on my chest and trying to lick my face...and he bit me.

It was just a nip, really.  But, evidently, it was enough, because...









I bit him back.





Yes.  I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and chomped.  Through the haze of my anger I hear my mother yell, "Janet Lorraine Roach! Get that dog out of your mouth!"  Or something to that effect.  Zach and I stood there looking at each other with petulant glares before each going to our separate rooms to sulk although my sulk lasted a lot longer than his did.  That is one of the best things about a dog...they don't hold grudges.  Still to this day, I wonder what the neighbors were thinking?...





Oh. And if YOU are wondering what I was thinking?...well...I wasn't.  Eventually, I learned to control my temper but I just have to chuckle sometimes, because, when I get angry, my first reaction is still wanting to "bite" something.  But I stick to gum these days.

Trying to Catch My Breath

I can't believe that it is February! Wait! I can't believe that February is more than half over! I certainly don't have any pictures to show for it.








I started the year off with an ear infection that prevented me from getting outside...







Then we were into mid-terms and semester report cards...







And then there was the car accident...







Yes, two weeks ago I was involved in a car accident. My car "Ursula Sinead Popodopolis" was a total loss. I didn't even get pictures of that... My shoulder is still bothering me some but that is the extent of my injuries...I'm thankful that I wasn't a total loss. Actually, I am thankful for a whole lot in this situation.

Had I been 6 inches farther down the road my door would have collapsed in on me.  After the lady ran into me I ricocheted off her vehicle through two lanes of traffic.  There was no one next to me or behind me so I didn't hit anyone on my way through the lanes and I didn't get hit by anyone else.  I hit my shoulder but I didn't hit my head.  I was driving a Toyota so my car was worth $1000.00 more than what I owed on it.  The lady that hit me was honest with her insurance company so there was no "fault" dispute.  Ten days after the accident I was in my new car.  To borrow one of my favorite quotes, "God is...God is...God is God, you know?!"




So, I have a new car and the upcoming weekend is supposed to be warm (mid-50s) and sunny so I am headed to the Outer Banks this weekend. Maiden Road Trip for Shamgar "Chuck" O'Malley...







I am hoping that by choosing a tough and manly name, people will be less likely to run into my car. So I have christened my new car Shamgar "Chuck" O'Malley. Shamgar...as in the guy who is only mentioned in one verse of the Bible, Judges 3:31, yet killed 600 Philistines in one day--with a pointy stick. Chuck...as in Norris. And O'Malley...representing my inner banshee and every Irish curse connected to my heritage.







Anyway...time to get on with the journey.

Um...Slow Down!

Ok.  Here it is mid-August and...well...nothing.  Usually my summers are filled with adventure and...you know...blog fodder.  However, this summer not so much.  First of all, I got sick on the last day of school and was sick for more than a month.  Then I spent a couple weeks doing some cleaning and organizing (I would love to do a total makeover of my living quarters before the end of September...).  Then I left for my brother and sister-in-laws (which is where I am as I write this) which has been wonderful...

I'm not going to say "but"...I'm not.

It did, however, dawn on me today that I only have a week left before I head home and then only two weeks before school starts.  I ONLY HAVE THREE WEEKS BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS!!!  I am not ready for school to start.  Not physically.  Not emotionally.  I. Am. Not. Ready.

Oh, boy.

Writing Is Like Tea...

E (the lady in whose basement I live) asked me today if I had ever written a book. When I told her "no" she said that surprised her. That I just seemed the kind of person who would write a book. Then I said, "Writing is like tea."


Here's what I mean. Tea. I have always wanted to be a tea-drinker...because it sounds cool and fancy and...sophisticated. "Can I get you something to drink?" "Yes, I'll have some tea." Sounds silly, I know...but there it is. Tea is ancient and ceremonial. It is mysterious. When you are served "tea", you not only receive a cup but a saucer as well and not just any cup and saucer but expensive, fragile ones that you can only hold properly if you stick your pinky finger in the air and that make dainty, tinkling sounds when you use them. "Tea" also comes with cookies, and scones and bite-sized sandwiches with no crust. Tea is not just something to drink, it is a whole separate culture...

And it is serious...

...and mature. As evidenced by generations of children--desiring to be "all grown-up"--dressing up and having "tea parties."



But here's the thing...having said all that...tea tastes terrible.

I keep trying it because they lure me in with those exotic names and spicy aromas...but everytime I think...BLAAEEHHCK! (or something close to that.)



I want to like tea...but I don't like tea.



Now writing. I have always wanted to be a writer...because it seems cool and intelligent and...sophisticated. "What do you like to do in your spare time?" "I write. Journal. Blog..." And again...I am fully aware of the oddity of this. But think of all the knowledge we have thanks to writers. Not just professional authors of books but young and old, educated and...not, intentional and incidental writers of diaries, journals, notes, letters, stories, memoirs, speeches, poems and songs. Writers are able to use words to convey concepts and ideas, feelings, pictures... They routinely reveal mysteries, increase options, heighten awareness, encourage growth, motivate actions and broaden imaginations.

And again...having said all that...I'm just not a good writer.

I keep trying it because they lure me in with fancy journals with gorgeous covers and hand-made paper or gilded pages (or with new templates for blogging...). Then I get half-way through and I think, "WHAT am I doing???" This frustrates me immensely because I am a really good storyteller...but writing the stories down is much harder.

I want to write...I'm just not very good at it.

BUT...I will keep trying.