Monday, May 30, 2011

Love and so NOT a hoarder

Tonight, I posted my last grades for the 4th quarter.  


Grades overwhelm me.  Almost always. 


Dear Grades, Let's take a 3 month break, mkay?  


That reminds me of the beloved Friends plot where Ross & Rachel take "a break."  


Ross always yells, "We were on a BREAK!"  


Who else is with me?  


There is a large basket of clean laundry next to Scarelett's bed.  Part of a fitted sheet has toppled over INTO her bed so she is laying on the sheet...that's in her bed.  It reminds me of something you would see on the show "Hoarders."  It kind of makes me chuckle but in that "if you don't laugh, you'll cry" sort of way.  
She does not have her collar on because she got a bath.  Whenever her neck is naked, it always makes her look even more wild, I think.  


Tim came home from his game still wearing his softball uniform.  


Yowza.  


Who doesn't love a man in uniform?  


Love & for the love of Pete, would somebody clean this place up already? 
H. 

Friday, May 27, 2011

Blue Friday or Hashtag Overdose

Today, I woke up at 7:10am.  


I usually LEAVE the house around 6:45. 


Yowza.  


Today, Tim saw our neighbor's dog get hit and killed by a passing ambulance.  


And today, I found out some sad & terrible news about someone we love.  


I can't explain the grief and the ache that comes along with the realization that your life is holding true to All the Statistics. 


Ache. Ache. 


Today, I cried. 


And I spoke into Tim's chest and said, "I think I need Mexican food.  Lots and Lots of Mexican food." 


So, we ate at our favorite place and even ended up with our most beloved waiter (he calls me Senora).  


I drank obnoxious amounts of diet coke and bit as many tortilla chips into the shape of California as I could manage.  I felt a little bit better. 


But only a little.  I didn't even finish all my rice, and I always finish my rice. 


Like I said, ache. ache.  


ache.  


     After thinking about that poor dog this whole crummy day, I hugged and hugged on Scarlett until she finally looked at me like, "Lay off already, would ya' Ma?"  And I made her promise to stay out of the road (not that she is ever off leash in the front yard, anyway).  Noel, of course, wasn't having ANY of it so we just loved on each other from a distance.  It works for us, I think.  


For you, on this sticky, Blue Friday- I am posting one of my favorite text message exchanges EVER.  


Recently, Sweet Heather Marie and I had a conversation about Twitter/Facebook hashtags.  


She just didn't get it.  It just wouldn't click.  I jokingly feigned disgust (even though I just found out about them about 6 months ago from a girl in my COLLEGE AGE Sunday School Class, no less).  


I think sometimes I think I'm cooler than I actually am.  Sigh. 


Anyone else have this problem?  


It went a little something like this:  


(After venting loudly to her about a disagreement Tim & I had regarding a mutual friend's alma mater- which shall remain nameless-)


Me:  So, I was wrong [she] totally DID go to [that one] High School!  #eatinghumblepie


Heather:  I'm SORRY #suckswhenyourhusbandisright


Me:  Excellent delivery!  You nailed it!


Heather: Thank you! #iamsoawesome


Me: lol #hopeitsgenetic


Heather:  #gettingcarriedawaywiththis


Love and people posting Instant Message/Text convos. is usually my pet peeve, 
H. 


OR 


Love and I hope you were as amused as I was, 
H.  

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Arachnids, Al Qaeda and other stuff God loves

It started out as a joke, calling them by Old People names.  Something to build rapport and add a little pizzazz to our days.  


Walter...Stewart...Gertrude...


And then there was Olive.  


Tiny, pig-tail wearing Olive.  


Olive, who on this chilly spring morning surprised the heck out of me by befriending a neighborhood spider, of all things.  


In my experience, the grace period for a classroom insect is about 45 seconds.  After that, the mortality rate increases dramatically.  Too many tiny hands and heavy feet, all wanting to capture it and take the customary trip outside to let it loose- a glimpse of freedom for both the child and the newly rescued friend.  


On this day, I was extraordinarily impatient.  There is no swinging pendulum of excitement when a child finds an insect in the classroom.  Spider, cricket, (gasp) cockroach, it may as well be a full grown monkey- it's all the same to them.  


I had but on thought, "Let's.get.this.over.with."  


"Come on, Olive.  It's already dead."  


To which she replied, "No.  It's not."  


She was not rude or disrespectful.  


It was gentle.  Full of hope.  


You see.  Olive saw something I didn't.  


I just didn't know it at the time.  


"Well, then it's almost dead."  


My tone was short.  There were baskets of books everywhere from the chase that had ensued, and now 16 children waited in the background with math journals open and just a scoopful of focus to last us the rest of the day.  


We had, so to speak, bigger fish to fry.  


She poked and prodded a little bit more until this pile of hairy legs and limbs was resting at the bottom of her pencil cup.  Perfectly still.  


Yet, she handled it so delicately- at one point, when the poking and prodding seemed ineffective, she grasped it with her tiny fingers- with such courage for someone so small- as if it were a cricket or a roly poly or a ladybug- something deemed "harmless" by adult's standards.  


Strange as it may seem, it was the most beautiful thing I have seen in a long time.  


And it got me thinking about Osama.  I know he's been dead for weeks, but something about his death has just stayed with me.  I am not the only person I know to have felt this.  It's an odd feeling.  


The news at our house unfolded as one of those "yell-across-the house" conversations.  Tim in the guitar room and me in the kitchen- slicing strawberries and (probably) listening to records.  At 11 o'clock at night, no less (if that gives you any insight into our lifestyle right now).  


Sigh.  My memory fails me. 


But I do know the first words out of  my mouth were, "Ha! Ha-ha! Finally" like a child who has just witnessed a bully getting punched.  


Or something along those lines.  


And then, a twinge of guilt, of uneasiness- unrest?  That, I remember well. 


I'm not going to tell you that I don't feel satisfied- like justice was served.  I do.  I think what goes around comes around.  


Always. 


There is part of me that is grateful.  For karma and whatnot.  For closure. 


However, I cannot imagine the heartache of losing a son as God did when Osama died.  My son who had not only strayed, but also my son who brought evil and havoc and such misery into the lives of my other children.  


Surely, no one feels heartache the way God does.  


The older I get, the more I realize that we have absolutely no grasp on reality when it comes to how much we are unconditionally, infinitely, unendingly, bravely, hopefully, amazingly, unarguably




Loved. 






Sigh.  Such loss. 


With that being said, as hard as it is to fully understand sometimes, we are all children of God.  


Spiders and Terrorists included.  


Today, there was a spider in my bathroom.  Large. Brown.  Fast & Hairy.  The fastest thing on 8 legs this side of the Mississippi.  Or something like that.  


I couldn't help but think of Osama and Olive and The Spider.  *


So, for the first time in (ahem), 29 years, I saved a spider.  I did not run.  I did not avoid the bathroom.  I simply breathed deeply and listened to the voice of God.  


I channeled my Inner Olive. 


And then I did a little grossed-out-jumpy-dance when it was all said and done.  It's the thought that counts, I suppose. 


Thanks, Olive.  to you, I bestow 10 minutes of extra free time.  Use them in good spider-saving health.  


Love and I think Olive and The Spider sounds like an adorable Children's Book Title, 
H. 


Or 


Love and Olive gives great hugs, 
H.  


* Please make no mistake- I compared Osama to the spider to show that God loves creepy, crawly bad guys just as much as He loves second grade girls.  Not in an attempt to prove that they both should be set free/spared.  


Whew. I feel better. 


Love and so NOT a terrorist, 
H.  

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

It's raining cats and dogs

Eee Gads.  It is cold in my neck of the woods.  And rainy to boot.  Meh.  The truly sad part is- IT HAS BEEN LIKE THIS FOR WEEKS. 

 Here. This will make you feel better.



Love, 
H.  

Sunday, May 8, 2011

You and You and You belong to me

For my birthday, Heather gave me a card to end all cards.  It was amazing.  It made me cry.  Seriously.  How can you top that?  How, I ask. How!?!?


One of the lines read,


"And we know what only sisters can know-
 that sticking together works for almost anything life can throw at us. 
That we belong to each other in a way that we can never belong to anyone else..." 


And honestly, that line has been rolling around in my head all day ever since.  


So, I know that technically, this is supposed to be a post about Mothers, but in my heart, I know that line is true for so many of My Loves.


So, here's to Belonging to lots of different people in lots of different ways.  


I am loved in a way that overwhelms me.   In case you didn't know it, or don't feel it right now- 


You.Are.Too. 


With that being said, my mom is, hands down, the most selfless person I know.  
  
Stumbled upon these two photos tonight, the last of the two made me cry. I am the tiny one with no hair.  





Happy Mother's Day. 


Love and that was the first time we met, 
H.  





Monday, May 2, 2011

Drafts Part One

     Tonight, I was scrolling through some of my old blogger drafts, and I found a post about why I'm thankful for socks and also one entitled "There is not a zombie in your bathroom."  


Can you imagine?  These posts that never saw the light of day, or in this case, your screen? 


Unpublished.  


You're welcome.  


All joking aside, I've got a-thousand-and-six papers to grade.  


Up next, a post about what in the world I've been doing with all my no-time-for-blogging-time and a piece about The Special-est Day Ever. 


Oh yea, and we both had birthdays and went on a road trip.  And I planted a garden.  


I think you're all caught up.   


All that, and my husband discovered Rebecca Black's song, Friday.  In Chinese, no less.  I'm not going to put a link up because it's just too terrible.  


He keeps going, "Shing-shing-ay!" 


And it's raining here.  A lot.  Like,  things are under water that I have never seen underwater.  You know, roads and stuff. 


File this under: Things that should have stayed Drafts.*


If this were a piece of artwork, I would call it Dogs Plus Thunder Equals Sad Face
Love and random Asian lyrics in my head, 
H.  


*Or, I cannot believe I actually hit "Publish."