In times like these

I got up this Sunday morning, and was for some reason, confused about the time. Have you ever been disoriented about what time it is? I was thinking as I was taking my shower that Daylight Saving Time ended today at 2:00am, and that we failed to set the clocks back. Quickly I made several decisions based on this information: I could let my husband sleep in a little longer before waking him up-the poor man with his two jobs certainly could use it. I could spend the hour since I was already up, doing something productive. I wondered how many people would get to church early. I thought about calling my daughter-her husband had to be to work at 7:00am this morning. I thought about calling my son-he's working today. I signed on to the computer to confirm my inclination and yes, the time in the lower right hand corner said 6:30am. "I knew it!" I thought to myself.

But something gnawed in my brain. Was it really 6:30am? I was beginning to experience what psychologists call "cognitive dissonance". This phenomenon occurs when new information does not seem to match or jive with prior information you have stored in your gray cells and you begin to be vaguely aware that something is amiss somewhere in your thinking process. I decided to do a google search of "Daylight Saving Time 2008". Then I really had cognitive dissonance. DST doesn't end until NEXT Sunday at 2:00am. I have no idea why the time on my computer is an hour early-it must have to do with the IE program-perhaps it was already fixed to change the last Sunday in October. Now how to change the time on the computer is another issue. OOO-it only took this computer tech dinosaur three clicks to figure it out!

Speaking of cognitive dissonance, did you read about the woman from Japan who killed her virtual-reality husband's avatar and was arrested? She wasn't arrested for killing the avatar, she was arrested for trespassing with his password into the reality computer game they were participating in. An avatar is a persona you take on when you participate in online computer games. Apparently, there are several popular games you can play which are interactive with people around the world-you (or rather your avatars) can live together in communities, and my son in law was telling me last night that one of the most popular games is one which you can live in other worlds and universes. Anyhow, in this game, this woman's avatar was married to this man's avatar, and they were living together in this virtual reality computer game. Apparently, the man's avatar divorced the woman's avatar rather suddenly, leaving the avatar homeless. The REAL woman behind her avatar grew so enraged at how her computer persona was treated that she hacked into the game with the REAL man's password and had his avatar commit suicide.

When I was talking about this with my daughter over lunch, she blithely told me that back in the day when she was participating in this sort of thing, she allowed one of her avatars to go swimming in the pool and then took the ladder out to see if it would drown, which it did. There was a funeral service and cremation, and the urn was displayed prominently in the home that this avatar lived in.

Online gaming is the fastest growing industry in the world-bar none. There are millions of people worldwide who for hours a day, live in these imaginary kingdoms, worlds, and communities and create a life's existence which they have created to be more fulfilling than their REAL life is. I realize for some, it's entertainment, but I cannot imagine first of all, having the time to devote to it, and secondly, wasting the time it takes to devote to it. However, there is a certain advantage of living in a virtual reality world, and that is, I can be in control of what happens to me. I can dispense justice, take revenge, and get rid of those I'm angry with. Even the guy whose avatar was done away with can in about a minute, create a new one. In virtual reality worlds, the players can be "god", and I would hypothesize that this is why they are so popular. Comments?

I'm glad I can type a "subject" in here....

Many times, I feel as if I am an Edsel in a world of 2009 BMWs when it comes to computer technology. Just recently my son completed an upgrade on our desktop here in the front room. He was able to save all my favorites and icons but I had to re-install Yahoo Messenger. Of course, I now have the latest version of that, which, I hate, and, a new version of IE (I believe it's 7), which I also deplore. These new versions are supposed to make my life easier, but alas, they do not. One of the most glaring things is that when I compose an email from my Yahoo email address, the subject line is un-enterable. The field is there, but it's not open to put anything in it. I sent an email to Yahoo Help, and received, I assume, a computer generated reply to try several things, all of which will take more time and patience than I currently have at my disposal. If any of you reading this blog could think of anything to tell me to do, please let me know. It's not the end of the world, but it's a little thing that's making me crazy. I once had a superior return an email to me, chastizing me for not having a subject line in it. I still work for this superior and I think about that every time I send one out, particularly to her, although, I of course, I use my work email address so there's no problem. It's just that I THINK about it. Every time.

It's Sunday morning. After laying awake most of the night, I'm now up and thinking about activities ahead in this day. Church. Lunch. Choir practice. Women's group. Evening services. I hope for a nap, but that's not happening today. I see from "Sunday Morning" that Charles Osgood is broadcasting from the Phildelphia Zoo. Time to get coffee and go see what Charlie's got on his agenda. Have a good day, all.

Overheard Office Conversations

Receptionist: What are the new shirts made out of?
Clerk: They're 100% cotton.
Receptionist: Cotton? That's the stuff that grows on sheep, right?
Clerk: No, cotton comes from rabbits. That's why they're called cottontails.

*************

Regional Director: So our biggest problem last year was we tried to take over the whole world, and the whole world is a big place. We need to think small, concentrate on taking over individual countries first...like Wisconsin.

*************

Bookkeeper: What is Susan's last name?

Office Manager: Susan who?

**********

Co-worker: I don't really pay that much attention to politics. I mean, I don't even know the difference between a Republican and a Dominican.

***********

Tech: Okay, now right-click there.

Admin: Here?

Tech: No, right-click. Right there.

Admin: Okay...

Tech: No, get rid of that. Right-click. Right there. Right-click. Right-click...Which button are you clicking?

Admin: The left one.

*********

Office Manager: It's like apples and oranges: they are all the same.

***********

Office worker: The paper coming out of the printer is really hot! It's never been that hot before. Can we do something to cool it down?

Tech: Oh, I forgot! I put the summer paper in there! I'll switch to the winter paper! Give me 10 minutes.

***********

Sales Manager: You are really getting on my nerves today!

General Manager: Good, I can cross that off my list!

***********

Tech on phone: Okay, go ahead and type in your password...Yep, just type it in...In the password field...Just type it...With your keyboard...Should be right in front of you... Has letters on it...Great!

***********

Receptionist: Do you have any extra wireless cords?

***********

Originator: Two charts are just great. Very helpful. Two is a lot more than one.

VP: Yeah, it's like twice as much.

**********

HR #1: Why would anyone agree to take on more responsibility if we're not going to pay them more?

HR #2: We're giving them more projects to work on that will be more advanced than what they're working on right now. I think people look for a challenge and they will be willing to take on more responsibility if it promises to be rewarding. Besides, most of them are in their twenties and need to start somewhere. So you see, we really are paying them more...in experience.

HR #1: Who is ever going to fall for that?

**********

Worker #1: Do you have any time available to meet on Thursday?

Worker #2: It will be pretty tough; I have back to back meetings all day.

Worker #1: How about 11AM?

Worker #2: Okay, I have nothing scheduled at all between 9AM and 5PM.

**********

Co-worker: If I didn't have so much to do, I would get a lot more done.

***********

Employee on phone: Yeah, that's a little redundant.

Boss: You can say that again.

Attention Getters

Things which have caught my attention recently:

The weather. I cannot remember in recent history, such a temperate September and October. Daytime temps remain in the 70's and 80's, with cooler temperatures in the evenings, but we aren't even running the furnace much yet. I think I had it on a few mornings ago when I woke up to a house that was kind of chilly.

My youngest son. He's now a working man. He takes his lunch every day, using a vinyl lunch bag he wouldn't have been caught dead carrying a couple of years ago. Even when he worked at WSU and took his lunch, he ate mostly frozen dinners and took them in a plastic grocery bag. And made fun of people who TOOK lunch bags. But now, he's come over to the dark side and is stuffing a lunch bag with food every day. (However, I just now heard him in the kitchen muttering to himself..."I'm not in the mood for this lunch today".)

The book, "Laugh Your Way to a Better Marriage" by Mark Gungor. The title is cheesy, but the premise is interesting. I have not agreed with everything he's said but it's been entertaining. I wonder if he's been married for as long as I have. I understand that he's a pastor, and I try to imagine my pastor saying some of the things this guy says in his book. Hmmm. I don't think so. I recommend it for the entertainment factor, if nothing else.

The election and everything that goes with it. What is there to say, except, God help us all. But I have enjoyed Tina Fey's impersonation of Sarah Palin-she's a dead ringer for her and has the voice to boot. (Alaska IS near Russia, doncha know...)

Lower gas prices. Thanks be to God, I can fill up for a little more than 50.00 now. I don't know why the price of oil is falling so fast, and you can read a million opinions on it. One thing I do know, it's temporary. This economy is on a roller coaster ride and we just need to hang on the best we can.

Speaking of roller coasters, I rode one for the first time in many years last weekend at Silver Dollar City. It was called the "Powder Keg". It gave me a neck ache and heartburn. You know you're an old geezer when a roller coaster produces acid reflux which lasts for hours. Tums sorta helped. However, I did very much enjoy riding the "Lost River Rapids", with 2 brothers and a husband. We ended up so wet we wrang our socks out afterwards, but what a perfect two days we had at Silver Dollar City, weather-wise and just overall, a lot of fun.

That's all for now. Have a good weekend.

Don't have a heart attacked, I'm posting. It's not that there isn't anything going on, I think that it's because I just feel overwhelmed at what life is throwing at me these days. Some of it I can write about, some of it, I can't.

I'm in the throes of a cold/allergies and all that goes with it. The last two days I've worked half days and done only what I absolutely had to do, so there's a lot at the job that didn't get done. It will await me as I go back on Monday. When you don't feel well physically, you don't feel well mentally either, so it'll probably be a struggle.

The weather now is absolutely exceptional. Warm days, cool nights. Last Saturday I nearly wrecked myself doing yard work, but I so much enjoyed getting out.

A familiar refrain from a more contemporary song implanted itself in my brain today, and is helping me keep my sanity when things are not sane. It is this:

When I think I'm goin' under,

Part the waters, Lord.

When I feel the waves around me,

Calm the sea.

When I cry for help O hear me Lord

And hold out your hand,

Touch my life,

Still the raging storm in me.

by Annie Hawks & Robert Lowery

There is nothing we can hold on to in this life except our belief that God is. The Great I Am is. When others fail, when things fall apart, when people let us down, we come back to the foundation of our faith, that He is. No matter what you are going through, I hope your beliefs are anchored in the One who never changes, and who is always faithful to do what He says.

Here's proof

This lovely picture (don't I look excited!) is me holding the first fish I caught in many, many years when we were on vacation in Michigan this summer. It was slimy and sort of blech, with tiny teeth you had to avoid when you held it up by the mouth. I threw him back-I'm not a fish MURDERER, just a fish catcher.

Harry

Rev. Harry V. Moratto went to heaven a few days ago, and today is his memorial service. I wanted to write a little bit about this man and the complicated relationship he and I shared, especially the last 2 or 3 years.

But first, a word about Harry's wife, Marjorie. She left us a little more than 2 years ago, and the role she lived woven throughout almost 20 years of friendship was one of mentor, advisor, friend, coach, cheerleader, encourager, teacher-she was all these and more. She was truly one of the wisest people I've ever known. But one of her other roles, unseen, came to light after her death.

Although Harry gave his life in service-he was a pastor and his last place of service was chaplain at a local youth facility for 24 years- he was loudly heard in issues of church management. He was bold, confrontive, and freely gave his opinion on any matter to anyone who would listen. Many times, he did not agree with things said and done, and would let people know how he felt. In doing so, Harry often upset people. He was not the most tactful person.

While Marjorie was living, she was the soothing oil that balanced Harry's sharp-edged personality. He often would temper his comments if she were present, and she, the ever gracious wife would always understand him with grace. I looked at Harry as I would a father figure in my life, and I felt that he loved me as a daughter-while Marjorie was here to smooth ruffled feathers and add perspective to his blustery personality.

But when God called her home and it was just him, there was no soothing oil to heal the rough edges. Within a few weeks of her passing, he and I worked together on a project at church and became at cross-purposes, as they say. He was characteristically rough and straight-forward in his assessment of the situation. My feelings were hurt and I withdrew. Without her here to facilitate communication, Harry and I became estranged. We went to the same church, sat in the same sanctuary, met in the hallways with stiff hellos, and ignored each other. After many weeks, I confronted him one day after church and asked him to forgive me for whatever I did to make him upset. He didn't want to talk about it, and didn't.

From that point on, I let him go, I let everything go, I gave up. There was nothing more I could do to heal the gulf. And, I prayed about it-I got no further word from God about what else I could do to make things right. It was up to him to do so or not.

I decided that no matter what happened, our relationship would be healed. If he came forward to discuss things with me, we'd reconcile. If he went to heaven, we would reconcile there. No matter what, we would be okay.

I can play at his funeral today, knowing that things are okay between us. I have a great deal of respect for him and the work he did-but a few battle scars, too. I would imagine many people would describe knowing him in those words. But, all is well now.

The first day of school

Yesterday was the first day of school in the large, urban district I work for. I spent the day organizing my office, cleaning out files, etc. There won't be a lot to do with kids until we get rolling with child study team meeting next week. However, I did have an experience with a child I will recount here. I sent this in an email to a couple of siblings and as I was writing it I thought, that would make a good blog post! So here ya go.

Kenny's* First Day

So, I'm sitting here having my lunch (leftover pizza) and thinking about my day so far. I'm supposed to be here by 8:40, but I always come early. Today I got here at 8:00 or so, and as I walked down the hallway, I saw a young boy sitting forlornly on the bench outside my office door. I went to my office as I had some things in my hands, then came back to sit beside him and visit. Kenny is in the 3rd grade, new to this school. He looks like he's about 8. Kids are not supposed to be at school before 8:30 (if they are eating breakfast) and if they aren't eating breakfast, they aren't to be here before 8:45 (the bell rings at 8:50), thus the reason for my conversation with him. I wanted to know why he had come so early to school.

Kenny told me that his mom and dad leave for work at 2:00am, and that he has an older brother, 17, who's supposed to be taking care of him. The brother leaves for high school at around 7:15. This means Kenny is alone from then until time for him to walk to school. Did I mention he's 8 years old? So, on this, his first day, at a NEW school, he was here at least 45 minutes early. No parent to walk him to his class, to give him a goodbye hug, to tell him to have a good day, to reassure him that things would be just fine here at his new school. That responsibility fell to me. And so, the little boy with the longer, curly brown hair and freckles, and sad eyes became my friend today. I asked Kenny to help me bring in some things from the car, and I introduced him to our counselor, who visited with him about what route to walk to school, and when he should leave in the morning. I found his teacher and told her the story, and she came to meet him and reassure him that she would make it a great day for him. After I have the last bite of pizza, I'm going to find him in the lunchroom to see how things are going with him. I don't know anything about Kenny's parents, and I'm trying so very hard not be judgmental. But they missed a special time with their son today that I had the privilege of having. I wonder if they know that.

*Not his real name

Belt Tightening

In the next couple of weeks ahead, the spouse and I are going to be taking a look at our financial situation and examining once again, our buying habits. At least for us, this is never a pleasant process, so it's not something I'm looking forward to. Because I worked only part time several years while I went back to school, we amassed some credit card debt as well as school loans. Three years ago or so, he got a second job to help pay this debt down faster, and although we are doing okay, we do not seem to making progress. I think one of the reasons is that we haven't been budgeting as carefully as we should so we're spending close to what we make, and not applying everything we could to the debt we've accrued. Also, although we aren't big credit card users, we do once in awhile-when we think we have to. We haven't, as many financial advisors insist, cut them up or closed our accounts. And, I think there's a universal principal in force here, and that is, no matter what you make, whether it's 6K, 60K, or 600K, if you aren't careful, you will tend to live at or above your means.

To this end, I've been reading and listening to a number of experts on this issue-Dave Ramsey (both on the radio and online), Suzi Orman (on cable 53 and I picked up her latest book at a thrift store (ha!), and then lately, I've been reading a book by Mary Hunt called "Debt-Proof Your Marriage", and looking at her website, www.cheapskatemonthly.com. Managing a budget and living within your means is NOT rocket science, yet, all three of these people have considerable financial wealth bestowed on them by people like me, who want to learn how to handle money better. (Ironic, isn't it...)

So, we now are asking those tough questions that you must ask when you reassess your money situation-do we need a newspaper subscription at 16.00 a month? How about cable (we have the basic package, or maybe one tier up). Internet? Bottled water? Soda pop (even if it's diet)? Going out to eat with family on Friday nights? We're fortunate in that we drive old cars, and don't have a car payment or high insurance/taxes, but one of these days, one of those old cars is going to bite the dust. Then what?

Since there are people who make 600K struggling financially, as well as those who make much less, I don't know that it's a matter of how much money you have coming in-however, there are many families who are really experiencing some economic hardship these days, battling continual price increases of both gas and food. I visited with a woman yesterday who came in to our church to place an order for Angel Food. She said she has a good job (she works at Spirit Aerosystems), but supports 5 kids and a disabled husband, who is not able to work right now. She was grateful to be ordering a couple of units of food, which was going to be helpful for her and her family. We also had some Hawker Beechcraft strikers come in to order, and we welcome them, but that's another topic for another time.

Anyhow, time to go make breakfast on this Sunday morning. I'm grateful for the ability to work, for a job to go to tomorrow morning, for family, for old cars that run, for old houses that are liveable, and for life itself. May all of you reading this have a blessed week!

Porch Update

So, we just got back from Wisconsin, having gone to retrieve our youngest son and his belongings. He spent the summer with a farm family, trying to find work in Green Bay and getting to know better a young lady that someday may join our family. He was unsuccessful in his attempts to find a job, however, the relationship he went to pursue seems to be another story. But we're glad to have him back here, and are encouraging his efforts to find work and get his own place.

We got back yesterday afternoon, and so last night we took our 3 adult children out for dinner and just enjoyed being together. After dinner we came back here and played Bananagrams, plus, I got to introduce them to a game from my childhood, ta da! "Stadium Checkers"! As you might guess, they no longer manufacture this rather odd game of strategy - this one I bought from an EBAY seller was made in 1952. It consists of several concentric plastic rings, each one larger than the last-hence, it looks like a minature sports stadium. Each ring has several "pockets". Players put 5 marbles in the "nosebleed" section of the stadium and begin taking turns moving the rings and dropping the marbles into the pockets. The goal is to get all your marbles dropped in your correct tunnel in the very center of the rings, and to thwart your opponnets efforts by causing them to drop their marble into the wrong hole down at the bottom, and thus, starting over at the top of the stadium. My techno-savvy, 21st century offspring thought this game was extraordinarily fun. I couldn't believe it.

We then sat outside on the porch in the dark and waited with our daughter for her husband to pick her up as he was attending a function at Century II. The weather was perfect- a little breeze, and temps in the lower 70's - and the talking and laughter probably disturbed the next door neighbors, although we didn't intend to. What a great evening! I wouldn't take a million dollars for that time we spent together last night. Once again, the porch became a place which created a good memory for all of us.

The power of water

One of my more ambitious projects for the summer has been to get our screened-in porch more usable. When the kids were younger it became a repository for skates, muddy shoes, bikes, and various projects in progress. As they became teens, the porch was a place where many evening and late night talks occurred. There was just something about sitting in the dark that fostered communication, and all our kids had many "opportunities" to visit with mom or dad or both about life issues out on that porch. When our kids had friends over, they gathered on the porch. Several "rat boys" (my son-in-law is not among that group!) came calling on our daughter and visited her on the porch, and who can forget Joshua and his friend Nathan hanging around out there, talking about girls, jobs, money, and whatever else.

We've always had a grill out there and used it a lot. There are no mosquitos or moths as the old man did a good job of building screens for it. In the summer, it's shaded all the time except for first thing in the morning. I've stood out there and watched torrential rain, sleet, big fat snowflakes come down, and blizzards - unless the wind is blowing hard, it's a dry porch. For that reason, it was not only a good place for our inside cat to go and hang out out (she thought she was actually outside) but it sheltered strays (remember the gray cat that had kittens?) and was a great place for a furry wet dog who was afraid of thunder to hide out on.

The old man has never had a workshop to put his tools, so, the porch became his tool shed. In recent years, the clutter on the porch has just made me sort of crazy, SO, to that end, we bought a new shed with a workbench which was installed for the man in the backyard. He has most of his things moved out there at this point, and most of my garden stuff is out there.

Last night, he installed a swing in front, and as we sat there, I told him that we need to start thinking of the porch as another room to our house, and to that end, it needs cleaning and sprucing up pretty badly. So this morning, I hauled out the garden hose and turned the nozzle to "jet". I took all the plants off the porch and with the power of pressured water, did a little cleaning. Down came the cobwebs in the corner, off came the mud, dirt, and grime from the screened in window sills, as well as PAINT. Yes, when you clean, you discover other problems you didn't know you had. The paint peeled off the sills in droves, so that's a fall project waiting to happen. I jetted the welcome mat and around the front door. I squirted the windows in the front room that look out to the east side of the porch. I tried rinsing the screens but wasn't too successful. And, I set the plants out in the front and gave them all a nice soaking shower.

Water from a nozzle-it took me only a half an hour to clean filth that had accumlated for 20 years. There ya go.

Opinions please?

So how are you? I hope my readers are doing well and enjoying the summer. Some of my readers are also bloggers who have not seen "Blogger Dashboard" in a very long time and you know who you are. Get to work! Post something! Please?

I told my sister that I was going to leave Todd Bentley alone (just temporarily) and "rant" about something else, and actually, I have two things to mention today. First, I saw in the newspaper yesterday that the coach of the KU Jayhawks, Mark Mangino, received a little raise for the new season. How does $800,000 a year sound? That puts Mangino's salary at $2.3 million annually, and a contract extension to 2012. If he wins another championship, he earns another $225,000. I'm just as big a Jayhawk fan as you are, and was thrilled that they were victorious in the Orange Bowl, and I get that we should pay our coaches competively-I get all that. This reminds me of a recent conversation on a back patio regarding the "must win at all costs" value that colleges place on recruiting the best athletes and on the success of their athletic programs, while academic programs end up on the short end of the financial stick in terms of hiring the best professors, funding research programs, and encouraging students in more scholarly pursuits which may better society as a whole, i.e., cancer research. What do you think? Michael, I especially seek your input-as a rabid Jayhawk fan who probably feels Mangino is worth every copper penny he's paid. Help me, a middle-aged woman who is only a rabid fan of table and card games, understand this (!)

The second rant will wait another day, but it deals with the column recently written in the Eagle by columnist Brent Castillo. Here's a link for you out of towners:

http://www.kansas.com/opinion/castillo/story/465759.html

You may have to copy and paste-I don'tthink I've got the hyperlink thing going here.

Don't be deceived

It's been so cool here since Saturday maybe...that I've not had the AC on. I'm sure WestStar Energy hates this weather just like the gas company hates moderating weather in the winter time. I pulled weeds out of the front flower bed early this morning and since then have just kind of puttered around. I've got some things to do, I just don't have a lot of energy.

I have to go back to work REALLY soon, and my carefree days will come to an end. If I recall, last year, I was ready to get back to work. I came to a point where I sort of missed my colleagues and not only them, but the work that I've been trained to do. Most of the time, I enjoy my job. I'll be starting my 3rd year at the same two schools, and with every evaluation I do, my skills improve. I did not graduate knowing how to do the job. School doesn't teach you time management or setting priorities or discussing sensitive topics with expertise, or getting along with principals - that comes with actually working. The National Association of School Psychologists says it takes 5 years of experience to become a well-versed, competent practitioner and 5 more years to become an "expert". I believe it.

I read an interesting article yesterday from a little newspaper called "The Chronicle", published here in Wichita. The article was on a fast growing ministry in Lakeland Florida headed by a man named Todd Bentley. Apparently, this charismatic preacher began revival meetings on April 2, and intended only to be there for a week, but on July 9 finally wrapped things up. This man has some strange ideas which are rather controversial and which deserve a second or third glance. Some of his claims: he has been visited by many angels, he has seen Jesus in the flesh, he has visited the "third heaven" and seen the Apostle Paul's cabin, where, just in case you were wondering, Paul told him that he and Moses together wrote the book of Hebrews. Oh, and did I mention the angel "Emma", who visited him and sprinkled him with some sort of gold dust, indicating he would achieve financial success as well. Just 3 weeks after the visitation, he received the largest offering he had ever received to that point in his ministry, thousands of dollars (he declined to be specific).

His ministry also claims to be healing people. A local pastor from Hesston went to Florida and states he was healed, as well as several of his congregants - the pastor himself made two visits.

Google Todd Bentley and you will find info on Wikipedia about him, as well as the FreshFire website, and http://www.toddbentley.org/, which states that he is a false prophet (I guess those that put the website up decided to capture that domain using his name before he could, knowing that people will search there first.)

Come on, people. There will be many who come in Jesus' name, and who will dispense false teachings, telling people what they want to hear instead of the truth. Mr. Bentley is in the same ranks as Creflo Dollar, Joel Olsteen, Kenneth Copeland, Benny Hinn, and many others who teach questionable doctrine, but yet, who are laughing all the way to the bank with your money. Be wise as serpents! Know what you believe! Test everything you hear, even from your own church pulpit. Your church leaders should welcome the opportunities for people to scrutinize and examine what is said - and question it if necessary. Don't accept "warm-spit" doctrine.

Family

One of my siblings told me recently, "You get behind in writing in your blog, then you spend a whole paragraph apologizing." Well. Ok. No apologies coming!

The last couple of weeks I've been getting ready for a 3 day yard sale - it was actually at my daughter's house, but I contributed a lot of my "junque" to it. I didn't sell nearly as much as she did, but I got rid of some stuff. That's a lot of work. THEN, we left last Tuesday for a trip to Wisconsin to pick up my youngest son and to head to Michigan for our annual family get together at my oldest brother's place. We had a great time, and are back 8 days later, today. Tonight we got together with our kids who couldn't go and visited about our trip, and ended up playing several rounds of a new game I got-"Bananagrams".

There are six siblings in our family. We are all married, and we all have children. Three of my brothers have grandchildren, so our family is growing-it seems that every year or two, we welcome new additions, either by birth or by marriage. If I counted right, there are 44 of us in this large extended family - 30 came to the reunion this year. With this large of a group, there is much opportunity for visiting and sometimes,
interesting discussion ensues. It became rather apparent at this reunion during some of discussion time that between the six of us siblings who were all raised by the same parents in the same church, there appears to be some pretty diverse viewpoints on several key doctrinal issues.

The six "in-laws" that married into this family bring their own opinions and viewpoints as well, and, our children and grandchildren as they become adults certainly will decide for themselves what they believe. What they choose may be very different from the religious teaching they received from us as they were growing up.

I was a little taken aback by some of the beliefs one of my siblings shared during our visiting. I think that those participating in the discussion were able to do so without offense, but I would never ever want to allow these differences to pull us apart. That's what scares me about these kinds of discussions. It's a challenge to not respond from your emotions when the foundational beliefs you hold true are being questioned. I ended up feeling ill-prepared to defend those core truths my whole belief system rests upon, and that's not a comfortable feeling. But I think it's good for me to feel that way.

I continue to pray for all 43 of you in this family - Max, Sherri, Kyle, Kerry, Theresa, Caley, Regan, Dennis, Ruth, Sherrill, Gary, Greg, Wil, Reid, Debra, Mark, Luke, Haley, Chris, TK, Chandler, Tatum, Jay, Pat, Michael, Katie, Scott, Laura, Rachel, Gabriel, Bruce, Rebekah, Jason, Joshua, Daniel, Linda, Terry, John, Anna, Kevin, Deanna, Nicole, and Michele. You are important to me.

Sorry I've been remiss

So my sister says to me, "Are ya gonna blog sometime, or am I gonna have to quit going to your page to check it out?" She should talk, she blogs about once a month. So yes, I need to blog. I've been pretty busy, but all the same, it's time to get to writing.

I have been in a cleaning project, trying to get some things ready for my daughter's yard sale, and just going through stuff. I've thrown some things out (do we really need to keep receipts for car repairs on cars we haven't owned in 2 or 3 years?) and a few days ago, I coerced the Man into sitting at the desk and going through a large pile of keys-I found several sets in the desk drawers, and a few behind a partition in the top drawer-like a secret stash. And lo and behold, what should appear from behind the partition-a lost set of keys to a Ford van we owned several years ago. I remember looking everywhere for those keys, and now, 5 years later, I find them.

As part of this cleaning out, I've found several old cassette tapes and have been listening to them-one of my mother and my daughter when she was about 2, another one of New Year's wishes from I think 1982 when some of our family was gathered at my mother's sister's home, one titled the "Plank Family Singers", one of a conference call between us siblings in 1984, and one that my dad made in 1982 talking about his early years. I'm going to give them to my brother, who says he can digitize them and burn them cd-tapes are pretty fragile after 20 years. I don't know if my children will even be interested in listening to these, but I was fascinated to hear my dad's voice again, telling stories about riding a horse to school, about their first car in 1917, and of my mother and my aunt expressing their hopes for the new year in 1982.

Between these tapes and reading my brother's post about sounds he remembers at night from the home place, I'm feeling pretty nostalgic. Hearing those sounds and being comforted by them is what drives me to escape from the city-I hear owls and trains where I'm at, but it's all the other stuff that crowds in that I don't wanna hear (and see) which makes me crazy. Recently I've heard a loud car drive several times up and down the street, heard yelling between car windows as two cars passed by each other in front of my house, and saw (and heard) a man relieving himself in my neighbor's yard after too much to drink. There are days I can't stand it, and then, I make myself say, "I choose to be content where I am and with what I have, until such time that I am moved..." And that's the end of that story.

Independence

The first week of "vacation" has come and gone, and here it is, already Tuesday of the second week. The past couple of days my son and his serious relationshipee from Wisconsin, the lovely Dara, have been visiting, and we have enjoyed seeing them. On Sunday, our congregation also enjoyed hearing him play Handel's "Largo" on the organ, and an arrangement of "Sanctuary" on the piano for the offertory. They are on their way back to Dara's home, and probably some cooler temperatures than what it is here in Kansas.

I've done some yard work yesterday and today, but as usual, it was a frustrating experience. I did spray for weeds and plant some flowers, however, I did not complete 2 tasks I had in mind. The first was to start the tiller and plow up a little spot out here in front of the house for more flower planting. You would think that a grown woman, with relatively normal arm and hand strength, would be able to start a 2 cycle tiller. It's one of the little ones that you see elderly people pushing along in advertisements. Try as I might, however, I was not able to rip the cord with enough power to start the engine. I even read the directions regarding priming, and where to place my left hand, yadda yadda, but to no avail. Now the lawn mower, I do have problems starting it-it's a bigger engine and I have to yank really hard. It takes several tries, and I'm exhausted by the time it's running. But this tiller-I'm just disgusted that I can't start it. I stood out there and wondered what I would do if I had no spouse or son to call in order to help me get it going. It happens that Josh will be over tomorrow to mow, so I'm going to have him give me tiller lessons, but sheesh.

Secondly, the Man told me this morning before he went to work just where I could find a box of edging to finish a project I had started. I thought, well, if I can't till, I can work on that. Did I find the edging? No. Is it where he said it was? No. Is in anywhere on our property? No. I spent time looking for that, and again, failed in my quest. By now, it's 10:00 and getting warm out, so I guess I'm done outside for the day until evening.

I really hate being dependent on someone for something. I think to myself, the last thing I want to become, if something happens to the Man, is a woman who cannot mow, trim, start tillers, replace toilet seats, caulk, or change furnace filters. If I had to do it by myself, then I'd better know how to do it. It's nice to have someone to do it for you, if they don't mind, but there's something to be said about living independently and managing your own business if you are physically able to do so. My young friend Candace, a single person, bought a house a couple of years ago. She told me a few months ago that if she doesn't do the repairs, they don't get done, so she's learned to do a lot of that maintenance stuff all on her own. I admire her and that streak of independence. Although I loved my mother, I think she was semi-helpless when it came to taking care of stuff like that. If my dad would have passed on before her, she would not have been able to do a lot of that herself, but-then again, maybe she would have surprised me (and herself).

In my quest for independence, I'm going to sign up for tiller lessons from my son. Maybe along this line, I'll have him show me how to check the oil in my car (I have a vague idea) and put water in the radiator. I am woman, hear me......bleat like a sheep when things need done. Will that be my theme?

All Done In

It's about 7:30 in the evening, and I don't mind telling you, I am DONE. I'm hot, sweaty, and tired, and if I were to give you a litany of what I've accomplished, it probably won't seem like a lot. I picked up a couple of things at WalMart, took my mileage book downtown so the school district can pay me for the miles I put on my car last semester, and mailed a couple of letters. I went to the church to pick up the perishables I put in the church's fridge last night because our refrigerator was on the blink. (Thank you Jay, for coming by and helping us not only decipher what the problem was, but also, for helping Bruce fix it, thus, we avoided an expensive refrigerator man service call.) I cleaned out the furnace closet, and tried to use my carpet spotlifter machine to get mud out that was tracked in yesterday all over my freshly shampooed carpeting during the refrigerator crisis. I thoroughly cleaned both bathrooms. I cleaned the ceiling fan blades in the kitchen, and gathered up trash. I did 2 loads of laundry. I'm just flat tired, but it seems I should be able to do more than this without petering out.

Tomorrow morning, Bruce and I are going to see the new exhibit at Exploration Place - it's called, "Our Body-The Universe Within". It's a little controversial because the exhibit features real human cadavers which have been preserved through infusing them with liquid plastic. The cadavers are then posed and in some cases, sliced in order for visitors to get a unique glimpse into how our bodies function. It has been noted that visitors to this exhibit often exclaim wonderment at the creation of the human body, and are amazed at what an awesome "tent" (as the apostle Paul would say) we live in. I am looking forward to going, and will write of my impressions after our visit.

It's a breezy evening, cooler, but very humid. We didn't get any rain today, which is good, and I'm hoping the yard will be dry enough to mow. The neighbor has mowed hers so that's a good sign.

I think I'm ready for a shower. Tomorrow is sort of a "vacation day", not only are we going to the exhibit, I think we're going to see Prince Caspian. My daughter blessed her dad with some theater tickets for his birthday, so tomorrow might just be the day to use them. After that, we need to come home and do some yardwork-I've got some flowers and bushes to plant.

Here's to that good, tired, feeling you get when you've accomplished something-I'll sleep well tonight I'm sure.

Lost and Found

School is out, and officially, summer "vacation" has begun. We ended things at both schools on a frantic note, with many evaluations and meetings held in May. I am feeling relieved, and am ready to think about something else for awhile. I feel as if I have a lot to accomplish this summer and I'm certain the time will fly by fast.

So my big brother had to "rescue" me Friday evening. I'm sure he'll be blogging about it, so I'll beat him to the punch. His very nice home and backyard sit next to a walking trail which goes around Pawnee Prairie Park. My husband and son and I were out there Friday evening to help him move some furniture to his basement, and after the chore was done, I invited my spouse to come with me for a walk on the trail. Off we went, intending to go 10 or 15 minutes and then turn around and go back, getting in a nice 30 minute stroll. However, as we walked down the pleasant trail, instead of turning around, we elected to take a path to the left, thinking it would loop around in fairly short order and we would end up back at his yard. That was the first of several mistakes on this expedition. Pawnee Prairie is a densely packed tree and brush-laden park, and when evening falls, it gets dark along the path rather quickly. As time went on, we tried to follow confusing markers and several times stopped to decide where we should go as there seemed to be many paths, forks, and choices to make. My son was also with us, and has, unfortunately, not a lot of directional sense. On and on we went, trying to get our bearings as night fell. It was rather comical to me as I wondered how we were going to explain to someone that we were lost on the walking trails. I could envision helicopters with lights shining and police officers on horseback scouring the woods for these 3 dumb people who were unable to navigate around this large, forest-like park in the middle of the city. After an hour of walking, we finally came by an opening in the tall chain link fence surrounding the park- an opening at the beginning of a bike path. We immediately went out and landed on an intersection in a residential neighborhood, and had no idea where we were. My spouse, not a lifetime member of the Boy Scouts of America, thought we were somewhere near Tyler and the parking lot, turns out, we were close to Maize Road not anywhere near where he thought we were. We called Jay on our cell phone and he came and got us, several blocks from his home.

Today I googled Pawnee Prairie, and got the map the city puts out, and then I looked on Google at the satellite view. I can see how we got lost-it is a maze of major trails, minor paths, and forestation. It's also a BIG park-to walk around it completely would be 5 miles or more.

I was never panicked, but I did feel, at times as we were walking in the dark along a dirt path, trying not to trip over limbs and brush a little forsaken. Especially, when it was all over and I asked Jay, so, we've been gone longer than an hour-were you concerned about us? His answer was, "No, I thought you had come back and gotten in your car and left. I never missed you."

So there really are people in life who come and go, who leave familiar places and go somewhere else, or even who die, who are never missed by anyone. I think about what a lonesome life that must be-to be in this world and not be noticed, to not have a true friend, or family who would miss you if you weren't around. In the movie Shall We Dance, the character who protrays Richard Gere's wife says that is one of the purposes of marriage-to be a witness to what happens in someone's life-someone that you love and care for above all others. I'm thankful for that person in my life-my "not a Boy Scout" spouse, nevertheless, life without him would be unfathomable.

To teach or not to teach...

I have been very busy the last 2 weeks, and haven't had time to think about posting anything. It is difficult to explain to others what this time of year is like. My job has consumed my thoughts the last several weeks, and I am looking forward to some relief. After today, it'll be better. After Monday it will be a whole lot better. And after next Thursday, it will be glorious!

I need to do something to try to get back to normal, and after a few sleepless nights, maybe one of the things I can do is rest. I'm running on caffeine, baby, and it's not a good situation, but all I can do for right now.

I've heard from my now Wisconsin transplanted son that he's doing fine just fine and everything is peachy, so that's good news on the northern front. I haven't had time to miss him, but I imagine after school is out, I will really note his absence.

I met with the WSU prof who would be overseeing me as I teach that undergrad class this fall, IF I decide to do that. She gave me some materials and the textbook. I promised her I would look them over and give her a reply quickly. I just cannot make my mind up about what to do-even after meeting with her yesterday, I can't decide. The easy thing to do would be to say no, then I wouldn't have to think about it anymore. But there's something in me that always wants something more, something different, something else in life, and somehow, these opportunities manage to find me. But I have walked through open doors before and been elated and I've walked through open doors before and have had a ton of regrets. The thing with this is, if I hate it, it's only one semester, 15 weeks. If I like it, there may be other opportunities for me to do more. How do I know unless I try it? As one wise man said, "What could go wrong?"

So I think I'm leaning toward saying yes. If I bomb, I bomb. The worst that could happen would be I would never be asked to teach again, all the students would gripe about me on the evaluations at the end of the semester, and, I would fail to meet my own expectations. I think that last thing is the worst. I can overlook faults in others much easier than I can those same faults in myself. I have had teachers that have not met my expectations, and classes that I didn't like, and I've filled out evaluations that weren't complimentary of the teacher of the class. News flash: Those teachers are STILL teaching.

So, there you have it. If only I could tackle other problems in my life with this same tenacity and attitude...

So much to write about, so little time...

I wrote in earlier posts about a staff member I was having difficulty with-in terms of her wanting things a certain way and making decisions about the way I did my job that she had no right to make. I have stood up for myself the last couple of times that we have had to handle certain situations, so now she has taken to emailing me and questioning MY decisions. She cc's the principal and that's ok with me-I've got nothing to hide about anything I've ever done. I'm always polite and professional, but then I come home and get cranky with those I live with.

The person from the other school district who contacted me by email about a job offered a salary of 8K a year less than I will be making next year. I politely declined last night-see, I can be polite when I need to be. We'll see if there's a counteroffer or not. I would guess not.

On a different subject, I went out and cut some lilacs from the bush and brought them in the house last night. These lilacs are spring late bloomers, and, they are minature ones. These few are sure making the house scented. I noticed the peony plant is a lot bigger than it was last spring, and it has several buds on it. I would like to move it but am not sure when the best time is to do that. Somebody who knows about peonies needs to let me know that.

I've got a busy day today starting with a staff meeting at 8, an evaluation at 9:15, and another meeting at 3:00. Hopefully between times I will be testing testing testing kids. I shouldn't be this busy the last 3 weeks of school, but I am. I've already told the team that I'm NOT doing this next year - we're going to have to make some changes in how we schedule things. So, I'll be going. Have a great day, everyone.

Math and the simple brain

It's a very cool, breezy Saturday. I heard yesterday that Kansas had SNOW in the western part, around Goodland-good grief! It's the first of May! Thursday night we had a lot of rain, and a lot of hail. My brother said there were still hailstones in the yard of the place where he works when he went in Friday morning. And last night was flat cold. I wore a coat to work, had the car heater running, and turned on the furnace when I came home later in the evening. I will be SO GLAD for warm temperatures. When I leave this morning, I'm going to need my hoodie and again, the car heater. The sun's out, but it's windy AGAIN, and chilly.

So today I'm going down to the church this morning to practice the piano-Dan and I are doing "special" music tomorrow morning, and then I'm rehearsing with a soloist. She's singing an old standby, but she wants it in a different key. Whereas people like my son can quickly and efficiently transpose music with what appears to be minimal effort, I have to think about it, and write down chords.

Transposition is a mathematical function, and back in elementary and high school days, math was something that not only confused and bewildered me, but caused me a great deal of anxiety. It's hard to explain to a person who sort of automatically understands the concepts how it feels to not be able to "get it" right away. One's brain gets muddled and confused when one doesn't have that automaticity.

This was one of the reasons I became a school psychologist. I understand those kids who look at me blankly when I ask them to solve what appears to be a simple math problem. I was working with a 3rd grader yesterday who had difficulty, even after repeated instruction and practice with his teacher, understanding the concepts of fractions, whole and mixed numbers. The teacher was semi-exasperated when talking with me about it later. "He just doesn't get it!! I try and try and he doesn't get it!!" That's right, he doesn't. I remember struggling with fractions some. And, I remember my first piano teacher, Mrs. Brown, trying to explain to me the concept of quarter notes, half notes, and whole notes. Her examples involved trying to picture a whole apple, cutting it in half, how many pieces do you have, etc. I'm a visual learner. I needed her to bring me an apple and a knife, and show me. Then I needed to do it myself. Then I needed to draw it out, then, I might be able to understand. This third grade student I spoke of earlier needs a lot of visual input, which, this teacher does some-she draws pictures on the board etc. But he, like me, is a slow processer. I saw her yesterday, standing at the board, in front of the drawings, calling on him, and the agonizing 20 seconds or so it took him to think about the answer, while the other kids squirmed in their seats. I felt his anxiety, and his embarrassment when after all that time, he gave the wrong answer. I saw the other kids laugh to themselves.

And I saw me sitting there, 45 years ago. I knew exactly what he was feeling. I walked over to his desk later, put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. I didn't say a word, but I think he understood. I'll be working with him next week, and we'll do just fine together.

Potpourri

It has been days since I have written. One reason-I am working many hours in the week, trying to get it all done before the end of the year. Many evenings I have been at school until 7:00 or so, working on reports, and it will continue to be such until the last day.

Other things clamoring for attention and time are just waiting for me-and, at this point, waiting until school is out, I would imagine. To update you on recent happenings, although I am extremely busy at work, things are going well. I am enjoying my work at both schools. This week, I have been visiting schools with special programs-one, a self-contained program for MR (mentally retarded) students, and one a special day school for those children who have significant emotional disturbance. We are trying to determine placement for some of our special 5th graders who may need what these programs offer.

I attended a meeting at another elementary school and enjoyed meeting staff there. So far, this week, I've prepared for 5 staffings (I've gotten to hold 4 of them, we had a no show parent for 1) and tomorrow I have two more scheduled. Next week, I have "only" 3 scheduled.

And, to make life interesting, another school district has contacted me about possible employment. I was not seeking work in another district, but sometimes, these opportunities come up and we need to consider them. In this case, it may not be a hard decision for me to make. I'm not sure they can exceed my current salary, and, the district is located several miles away, resulting in a pretty significant commute. I'm still driving my old gas guzzling Ford Vic, so this may be a no-brainer.

I'm sitting up here in my office, listening to wonderful music coming out of my youngest son's room. After he leaves, it will be very quiet up here. His music will be something I will miss extraordinarily. He's still on track to move to Wisconsin here in a couple of weeks, and I'm feeling okay about it, but...there are times that I will feel his absence, I'm sure. He is planning on playing a concert at our church on May 10, and I get to play with him on 2 or 3 numbers.

I am so blessed to have good relationships with all of my kids. My daughter and I work together at church in the Angel Food Ministries program, and I recently enjoyed a day at the zoo with her. My middle kid stops in frequently (usually around dinner time...) and I like seeing him as often as I do. It's hard to think about one not being around, as close as we are, but, you know-everybody has to fly sometime and it's Daniel's time to do just that.

One step, then another.

I slept until 9:00 today. Normally, I do not do that. I rolled over, squinted one eye toward the clock (I am blind without glasses), and finally made out through blurry vision that it was 9:05. I couldn't believe it.

Anyway, while the coffee is brewing, I will ruminate (to meditate or muse; ponder). Next week I will be attending an autism conference Wednesday and Thursday, and Friday, we are out of school for "conference release day". That leaves Monday to be at one school and Tuesday to be at the other one. From next week on, I will have 3-4 staffings a week in order to get all the work done that is scheduled. It is a grueling last 5 weeks of school, and I will be putting in a lot of hours each week. I have been working on things at home on the weekends and that will continue.

I am reminded of a lesson brought in our women's Bible study at church-it's one step at a time. I intentionally have to think that way at work. If I looked at all that needed to be done between now and May 24th, I'd freak out. Each day, however, I make a priority list and focus on what needs to be done this day, and sometimes, this minute. If I take all the little steps in the correct order, I should be able to complete the assignments, given enough time. The problem comes in when other things not expected crowd in and plans for the day erupt. I really have no built in grace or leeway, which would allow a sick day, a car malfunction, or a family crisis. Not only that, but my priority list doesn't allow others any grace time either. If I have planned testing sessions with little Johnny next Monday, the ONE day I will be at that school and little Johnny is not there, then...well, then we punt. We reorganize everything and start over.

Speaking of first steps, my youngest is planning on moving out of state in a couple of weeks. He'll be going from his hometown, his family, and his roots to another community Yahoo says is 858 miles away. This is a big step for him and us. I will miss him big time, but he probably needs to do this. He says it's an opportunity he can't pass up, and so, what can we do except wave goodbye and hope for the best for him.

Take one step at a time. It's good advice.

Working with people is a challenge

We are in the downhill slide to the end of year, which means that there is more work to do at both schools than ever. Some teachers are upset that children they have referred for evaluations have not qualified for services, and other teachers are upset that we have accepted some for evaluation we will not get to this year, and they are on our list for next fall - I've got 8 so far at one school.

Then, the situation I wrote about on April 3 concerning the winner of the power struggle is not good, in that the woman who took matters into her own hands and did not follow the procedure I recommended has gotten us into hot water with the special day school we were working with. I had a visit with that psychologist yesterday, and she and I will be the ones to try to clean up the mess.

I thought about visiting with her, and if she were the kind of person to say, "I see what you mean, I'm sorry that happened...yadda", that would be one thing. But she will never ever say or do that. In the book "Working With You is Killing Me", the author says that one key to moving past something like this is to realize and accept that these people are always going to be this way, and no amount of discussion with them will change that. It's up to me to figure out how to deal with her, knowing what she's capable of. And then, something else occurred when I worked late Wednesday night, which I will not relate here, but it was a confirmation of the fact that those who seem trustworthy, may not always be.

In my last post, I related the story of an irresponsible dog owner, who was appealing a city council decision to put down his pit bull, Mr. Bonz. Mr. Bonz had bitten a young niece so severely on her face that she had to have many stitches and plastic surgery to fix her injury. Update: thankfully, the owner dropped his appeal, and Mr. Bonz was euthanized before the meeting took place.

As we go about our business in this topsy-turvy world we live in, let's reflect on a statement made by Senator Hillary Clinton, introducing her husband Bill Clinton at a rally for gun control legislation: "Part of growing up is learning how to control one's impulses."

Now, THERE'S an example of a guy that knows how to do that. The "maturity" he exhibited in his personal life while he was president of the United States impressed us all. Happy Friday!

Take responsibility

I opened up the newspaper today, and an interesting article caught my eye. Apparently, on Tuesday, the Wichita City Council will decide the fate of a pit bull named "Mr. Bonz", to test the city's new dangerous dog ordinance. Mr. Bonz bit his owner's 5 year old niece on the cheek back in February, requiring 26 stitches and plastic surgery. No one disputes that. However, the mitigating facts in the case are that there were no adults in the room when the attack happened, and, the little girl may have provoked the attack. After the bite occured, the dog was impounded. Animal control officers decided the dog should be euthanized because he had bitten his owner once before on the hand, and because the owner did not have Mr. Bonz licensed or vaccinated. The owner is, of course, appealing that decision, writing in a letter to the council that Mr. Bonz is "a loving, family dog", and that "He has never shown aggression to any human being young or old, to people he knows or strangers that he sees for the first time."

Several years ago, my husband walked in the front door of our house, carrying a small fluffy object in his hands. "Look what the kids found," he said as he handed me a ball of fur. I held out my hands and immediately fell in love with a 4-5 week old puppy, who had been abandoned in a nearby park. We named her Coco, and a subsequent visit to the vet confirmed that she was almost 100 percent red chow, complete with a totally black tongue and that thick fur that chows are known for.

Chows are also known for their sometimes aggressive, territorial behavior. However, we decided to keep her, and my three young children were thrilled. We began the vet visits, the shots, the licensing, the spaying, the dog food buying, and all that which goes along with pet care. As she grew, I would mention to my husband periodically, that at the first snap, growl, baring of teeth, or aggression to our children, and this dog would have to be put down. We continued to watch her carefully, and when my young nieces visited, we supervised them, never leaving them alone with Coco. Even after a year or more and she never ever showed any aggression, still we watched. Our kids grew, and the frequently visiting nieces grew. Coco grew, and became a full grown chow, with a wagging tail and playful disposition. We did, however, see her aggressive side. She became a terror to all the oppossums in the neighborhood. Woe to them if they came in our backyard. With one snap of her jaws, they were gone. And, because of this behavior, we continued to watch and supervise. Every year she had shots and a vet visit, and every time she was around small children, we were there.

Coco lived happily with us for 10 years, never, not one time, ever, showing any aggression to anyone. The man who owns Mr. Bonz spoke words about his dog that are not true, and not only is he not being truthful about his own dog's violent behavior, but he is not a responsible dog owner. He failed to meet even the rudimentary requirements of dog ownership by not obtaining a license and vaccinations for Mr. Bonz. However, these words do describe Coco, and I want to use them here: She was truly a loving, family dog. She never showed any aggression to any human being, young or old. She merely barked at strangers, and always made friends. Our mailman brought her treats every day and she enjoyed a scratch behind the ears as she stood up on the fence. She was a loving, faithful companion.

Looking ahead

Easter Sunday, twenty-eight years ago today, at 8:30pm, I gave birth to my first child, a daughter-with a smattering of brown hair, blue eyes, and a healthy set of lungs. My life forever changed with the advent of this little girl, who grew up to become a wonderful young woman. We had some rough times during her teen years and early twenties, but she has turned her life around and I am blessed to be her mom.

She has never had her birthday fall on Easter since the day she was born, and it won't be on Easter again until the year 2042. However, April 5 will be Easter Sunday 3 times before April 6, 2042, in 2015, 2026, and 2037-I don't quite understand how this works, but, oh well. Let's see, in 2042 she'll be 62. I'll be 88. I hope I'll be here to help her celebrate her birthday on that momentous occasion, but I also hope I'll be in good enough health to enjoy it. By the time I'm 88, I can't even imagine what things will be like. That's only in 34 years - and it'll go by fast.

Bad and good news

Leaving the train discussion, it's time to comment about other things. I told someone that this has been the worst work week I've had since school started in the fall. I am in a situation at one school where there's a power struggle, and the "winner" of the power struggle, which wasn't me, managed to go behind my back and set up two meetings to take control of a situation which was my responsibility to take care of.

This person managed to convince 3 people higher on the food chain than either her or I that she could handle the situation and that my input was neither needed, wanted, nor welcomed, and hence, two meetings were held without me and sort of behind my back, during which major decisions regarding a particular student were made. I wonder what is written in the blank beside my name on all of the paperwork where it says, "psychologist". Even as I type this, I can hardly believe that someone was devious enough to do this to not just another person, but to ME, a person who has gotten along with 99% percent of the people I've ever worked with my whole life.

So of course, my reaction is one which rock and rolls from being aghast, to being amused, to being angry, to being hurt. I need to figure out what to do, and to that end, a book I picked up on my recent train trip from a store in Michigan is being helpful. The book only cost me 3.00, it was on clearance, and because it looked like an interesting title, I bought it, never dreaming I would be reading it so soon. The title is, "Working With You Is Killing Me." I'm reading about strategies which can be used to deal with all manner of people that make you crazy in the workplace, and so far, it's been helpful. Right now, the strategy I'm learning about is how to "unhook" from the situation the controlling annoying person tries to put you in.

In other news, this weekend our church is having its annual "women's retreat", a yearly gathering of women, sort of like a big slumber party, but also with a spiritual emphasis. I've been helping to plan these now for 10 years and I always say, about this time, I'm not doing this again!, and then somehow, I always do it again. These retreats have been wonderful, and this one promises to be no exception.

My oldest turns 28 Sunday. She was born on Easter Sunday, April 6, 1980, and I'll have to blog about her next. She's something else!

Hints for taking the train

Pack just what you need and no more. Use a smaller rolling suitcase you could stow overhead if there's no room in the baggage compartment and take along one backpack you can take to your seat. Don't take a purse, put all your essentials in your backpack/shoulder bag. Put luggage tags on your suitcase and your shoulder bag. Plan for delays-Amtrak's on time record is dismal.

Bring a book to read or puzzle books. If you have room to bring a small blanket, do so-we were chilly on the train going out. Bring a neck pillow. Take along a bottle of water and some simple snacks. Bring hand sanitizer and use frequently!

Wear comfortable shoes and clothes you can be in for a day or more. Settle in and relax. Understand you aren't getting anywhere fast. If something is dreadfully wrong (i.e., a nauseating odor you can't stand) notify your car attendant, if you can find him or her, and they should try to make it right.

Many people (including us) used cell phones on the trip, but it gets noisy with everybody doing that. Enjoy the observation and lounge cars, but know that people who have sleeper berths have to hang out in these cars because they can't sit in the coach seats and it may be crowded.

If motion bothers you, take something for it before you get on the train. If you can stand going without a meal, do so because the food is expensive and not of very good quality. However, the dining car experience is something I guess everybody should try at least once.

The bathrooms on the train are functional, however, it is not a pleasant experience to use them. At one point I used the restroom for handicapped folks and it was better-more room and there wasn't a million and three people who had already gone before.

I do think that Amtrak's PR people have not done a good job of informing first time riders what it's like. They do say "No Baggage Service" but until you are standing there with a 50 pound suitcase to hoist up a narrow steep, winding train staircase, you don't really know what that means. It is a no frills, you take care of your own stuff kind of trip. It's pleasant enough, but don't expect a lot of customer service.

And, we did not submit any suitcases or bags through x-ray machines. You probably could carry a Howitzer on board without notice. So if lack of security aboard public transportation bothers you, don't take the train.

All in all, I think I would do it again now that I know what to expect. It's not a bad way to get somewhere, meet some people along the way, and see some sights.

The last leg of the trip

Leaving Chicago, I looked out the window at the industrial landscape. Because I'm from Kansas, I've never seen a salvage yard for watercraft, but lo and behold, close to Union Station in Chicago the train tracks run alongside a huge piece of property with a myriad of different kinds and sizes of boats, all in a sad state of disrepair. There's a lot of rundown two story houses, built within just a few feet of each other. I stared out the window, wondering how you would install siding or windows if you were working in a 3 or 4 foot space.

On the train, I read a book, visited with Rebekah, learned what a "Zune" was, and people watched. The attendant made an announcement that the train was full, thus they were taking reservations for the dining car for supper. She was going to start with the people who had sleeping berths, then work her way up the train from the last coach car forward. We were in the first coach car, so we didn't hold out much hope. An hour or two later, she appeared, and as she stopped by our seats, she said she had one reservation left, at 8:45 pm. We took it, wanting to give the train dining experience another try.

Soon, an announcement was made that they were behind schedule in serving people with reservations, and as the evening progressed, they got further and further behind. At about 6:00pm, I went to the snack car and got a bowl of cereal and some milk. We ate crackers and other things we had brought onboard with us and spent some time in the observation car, enjoying the scenery rolling by. At 9:45pm, fully one hour late, all those with 8:45 reservations were called. We were seated across from a couple who were from Niles, Michigan, and were on their way to Flagstaff AZ for a bowling tournament. Conversation was basically pleasant, although the man was very sarcastic and rude as he muttered under his breath at the wait staff. We had Black Angus burgers and salads, and a serving of Haagen Daz.

After our late supper, we strolled back to our seats and settled in for the remainder of our trip. It grew dark and quiet on the train, with people sleeping and visiting quietly. The couple seated in front of us and a gray haired woman across the aisle were from Newton, and chatted pleasantly. At the various stops, no announcements were made of what town we were in. The car attendants placed a ticket over your seat with your destination, then came to get you when you're supposed to be getting off. Suddenly, the train stopped. We were near Newton (I found out later that we were actually in the Walton area), and stopped dead on the tracks. Rebekah was anxious to get her things together, so we gathered up our stuff and went downstairs to where our suitcases were. Another woman and her granddaughter followed us down. There were 3 or 4 men standing in the baggage area, also waiting to get off in Newton. An Amtrak employee came down and waited for the signal to open the doors. And there we all stood. It was about 3:15am.

We waited for almost 45 minutes. An authoritative man, looking like he might be the conductor, came down and said we were waiting on the eastbound train to come through before we could roll into the station. A few more minutes went by and here came the eastbound, inches from us on the other track. Still we sat. Here came a freight train. Still we sat. Here came another freight train. THEN, we started rolling. Made it into the Newton station at 4:30 or so, and I was home by 5:00am, in my own bed. I'll never forget how good that felt!

Final comments tomorrow.

Train Trip Installment #3

We arrived exhausted, but very glad to be "home". The next 4 days sort of go by in a blur as I remember them, but we had all kinds of fun. We played games, visited, had a professional massage, went shopping, ate out, enjoyed Linda's cooking, had fun with the niece and nephew, heard a bagpiper on St Patty's day, relaxed, and rested. Too quickly the time went by and we found ourselves in the Jackson train station, waiting for the westbound to come by and whisk us off to Chicago.

However, in order to make things easier for us on the way back, my daughter UPS'd her small suitcase, packed with "bricks", back home. We both bought new shoulder bags, actually more like backpacks, which we wore in order to have both hands free to wrestle suitcases. We hopped on the train at Jackson, right on time, and found plenty of storage for big suitcases on the train-no upper level. In Chicago, 3 hours later around noon, we knew just where to go and what to do-immediately we found the gate that the Southwest Chief would depart from at 3:25 and since we were so early, we were able to find seats to sit close to the gate. We parked there and I knew just where to go in search of food, found lunch and brought it back, PLUS (I hate to admit this) I bought a Cinnabon as well that we shared.

I then had a firsthand view of the seemingly confusing way Amtrak boards trains. We were in a big room, with a moderately sized room in front of us. Through the doors to that room, were the doors to walk out of the station and get on the train. That room was empty, and we couldn't figure out why there was a guard posted there to keep people from going in. About 40 minutes before time to leave, the announcement was made for all those with disabilities, over 65, and with small children to please line up and have tickets and ID's ready. Those people then, were led to that room and waited there instead of with us at the "regular" gate. After they lined up and left my daughter hopped up and stood at the door, the first in line in our room to get on the train. We stood for 20 or 25 minutes, while a long line formed behind us.

Finally, after the first room boarded, we were able to board, and once again, we were semi-panicked about how we were going to manage everything up that awful staircase. No need to worry! (Why do we do that???) I got on board, and with my tunnel vision fully employed, headed toward the staircase. I heard this, "MOM! OVER HERE!" I turned, and realized I didn't even see the luggage compartment on the lower level, nearly empty. Quickly I loaded my suitcase and we headed for the staircase empty handed except for our backpacks. However, before I started up the stairs I looked to my left to see if there were people sitting on the lower level already, and whaddya know, there were no seats in that section. Amtrak had removed them, and turned that section into a small baggage car, so, even had we been the last ones in line, there would have been plenty of room for us to stow our suitcases in there without dragging them up to the upper level where we were sitting.

Last installment coming up!

Chicago Union Station

Union station in Chicago is intimidating to the first time visitor. The trains pull up and stop in an underground labryinth of rails and cement walkways. We alighted from the train and asked for directions, and set out walking. It felt like quite a long ways to go, but in reality, probably was 2 or 3 city blocks. We finally found the passenger entrance, and there we were, two of a throng of people. We waited in a line to use the restroom and developed a plan. Our breakfast guests had told us that for lunch, we could simply go upstairs at Union Station and find all manner of food, so, hauling our luggage, we followed the Food Court signs to escalators going up. Because several trains had disembarked passengers, the Food Court was packed with people. People everywhere, milling around, hawking merchandise, eating while on the run. The noise was deafening. We finally found a table and two chairs and I went in search of lunch, leaving Rebekah with the luggage.

Those of you who know me know that I have absolutely no directional sense whatsoever. If I don't pay particular attention to gate numbers, parking lot rows, or entrances, I can easily get turned around and become lost. Walking away from our table in that unfamiliar place, with a million and three people around, while keeping my bearings was quite a challenge-I had to mentally note exactly where I was going and what I was walking past. I found a little sandwich shop around the corner and ordered. On the way back, I missed a landmark and walked way past the corner she was in, but had the sense to turn around and retrace my steps. Thankfully, she was wearing a bright red overcoat, so I spotted her in the sea of faces.

We ate, and since our connecting train was leaving at 6:00, decided we needed to find our gate. We waited in line at the Amtrak Information desk, and a friendly woman told us we needed to get new tickets, as I had called and changed our destination from Ann Arbor to Jackson. We waited in another longer line to get replacement tickets, all the while, dragging our luggage along. Finally we were set to go to the waiting area, and by the time we got there, there was no place to sit. People were crammed wall to wall, and I realized that there were many trains departing from this particular gate-not only Amtrak trains, but Chicago communter metro trains. Trying to listen to garbled announcements over the loud speaker was exasperating, plus, we were already nervous about once again trying to haul our luggage aboard the train heading for Jackson.

Faith is the victory! I reminded Rebekah that God had provided two people to help us earlier in the day, and that we would make it just fine. My words were comforting, my stomach was in knots and my heart was pounding.

Finally, we heard the call for train # 354 to Jackson, and got toward the end of a very long line, inching our way forward. "Please have your tickets and picture ID ready." Exhausted and nervous, we headed out the gate and walked toward our waiting train. Here we go! Up, up, and up. Three normal sized steps and we're done. We looked around, amazed. This is not a Superliner, there's only one level of train here. And it's a newer model. There's a place right there to put our luggage.

Gratefully we find our seats. Suddenly our spirits lift, and we're on the way to Jackson. After a pleasant 4 hours, we're there, and Max meets us at the Jackson train station. We're right on time and he's right on time. He calls to us and we drag everything over to him. "Whaddya got in here, BRICKS?" he says as he lifts our luggage into the car. "Yes," we say, "BRICKS! We brought BRICKS to Michigan!"

Train Installment #2

After plopping down, we discovered a few pleasant things about coach seats. They do recline, further than you would expect. A footrest pops up, and when everyone is in this position, it looks like rows of recliners. There's also a bar to put your feet on attached to the seat in front of you. The windows are good sized for viewing. We settled in with the small pillows the attendant gave us and tried to sleep. In the cars, there is not a lot of engine noise, and it is quieter than an airplane.

I dozed intermittently. There were people who got off the train in Topeka and Lawrence, and as we reached Kansas City, as an announcement was made that we were stopping twice, once to pick up passengers and once for fuel.

Around 6:30, an announcement was made that breakfast would be served in the dining car by reservation only. My daughter walked all the way up to the dining car and put our name on the list, and we were called at 8:30. We began making our way up there. Walking on a train is an art form-there are times that tracks are smooth and it's fairly easy. But there are many times that the car rocks back and forth, and sways-you feel as if you are on a carnival ride at the state fair. We carefully navigated through 4 coach cars (we were in the one on the end), and an observation car, and finally reached the dining car, only to be told by the dining steward that he had seated someone else at our table because "you took too long to get here". My daughter explained that we were in the last car, and came as soon as we were called, but, alas, there was no seating for us. He told us to wait in the observation car and he would call us in "two minutes". Two minutes stretched into 5, 10, 15, and 20. I checked back in with him, by saying, "This is the longest two minutes I've ever had to wait", and he seated us at a table that had been cleaned off.

Other than the brusqueness of our wait staff, breakfast was a pleasant affair. Across from us was an older couple, making their way from Flagstaff AZ to Harrisburg PA, and they were good dining companions. The food was expensive and mediocre.

Back at our seats, more people were awake and talking. Looking out the window, I was fascinated by the five second peeks you get into other people's lives as the train rolled through small towns and farmland. Garden spots were plowed up. We saw a lot of above ground pools with the covers still on them. There were many treehouses and swingsets, BBQ grills and bicycles. I noticed Mobil gas stations with the flying horse logo, and busy downtowns, filled with donut shops, tire repair stores, hometown restaurants, and playgrounds. We passed by a field and I noticed a man standing in the field, looking the opposite direction, and not a car or another soul in sight.

Something else we noticed-the last car on the train developed a significant odor. I thought it smelled like a combination of diesel fuel and sewage, Rebekah thought it was pure raw sewage. The odor became stronger and stronger-and finally, when we saw our car attendant, we asked her about it! "You're right!" she agreed enthusiastically. "This car DOES smell!" She said it was worse in our car than in the rest of the train. She came back a few minutes later with some Febreeze and an air freshener, but the stench overpowered it quickly. It was nauseating. End of the story-she offered to move us to the car ahead, and we quickly took her up on her offer. Leaving the stinky, swaying, last car in the train, we were seated in another coach car, and immediately, our spirits improved. It was wonderful! We tipped her generously for helping us out.

The time went by quickly, and the landscape changed-we were nearing Chicago, and instead of yards, playgrounds, and farmland, we saw industrial smokestacks, office buildings, and substandard housing. The railyard at Chicago is enormous, and I thought of the guy who has to know where all the trains are all the time in order to direct traffic safely.

As we got in to Chicago, we realized that we were going to have to hoist our luggage DOWN all those steps, and a dread came over us. We steeled ourselves for the worst. As we pulled into the station, we put on our coats, gathered up our belongings and mentally prepared for what was ahead. We waited until most passengers had gone from our car, and retrieved our luggage. OOF! Down, OOF! Down a step and OOF! Painfully, we made our way down the steps. I was carrying Rebekah's shoulder bag, as well as my own shoulder bag and large suitcase, in order to give her two hands to drag her suitcases down the steps. As I made the first hairpin turn, I noticed a gentleman ahead of her offering to take her big suitcase, if she could take his small one. Gratefully, she gave exchanged bags. He helped her out, then helped me out. He was so gracious and we were so thankful!

Next: Chicago Union Station Adventures

To Michigan on the Southwest Chief Installment 1

We started our journey at the train station in Newton, Kansas, population-a little more than 17,000 on the 2000 census. I thought perhaps besides my daughter and I, there might be 3 or 4 others waiting to board either the east or the west bound SWC. That was my first misconception, because upon arriving, we found the station was packed with people. It was Saturday, the 15th, first day of spring break, and young people were anxious to get started on trips away from school.

So, it was sit, sit, sit, in a crowded lobby, at 2:30 in the morning, and wait for the train. I've never really been good at taking trips, but I really got sort of nervous. When you are middle-aged, you begin thinking of all those things you might have forgotten-do you have the TICKETS?? Your medications??? Do you have EVERYTHING??? And the train, well, I've never done this before. I'm not young, ya know. I'm not as wowed by impulsive, exciting, adventurous opportunities as I once was, I'm more terrified by them.

The train pulls up, and out we all herd, like sheep, onto the platform. I'm hauling a large (but within Amtrak rules) suitcase on wheels and a shoulder bag. My daughter is hauling a little larger and heavier suitcase on wheels, another smaller suitcase on wheels, and a shoulder bag. Did I mention that Amtrak has no baggage service at Newton?

No baggage service. Key words when you are planning a trip. This means, you are on your own in carrying all your stuff with you, on the train. This means that you must navigate yourself, and all your stuff onboard the train. Lest you have any doubt, let me rephrase. This means that you will have no HELP from Amtrak staff in getting your stuff on the train.

The SWC is a "Superliner". Almost every car has two levels. When you ride coach, and your train originates from Los Angeles and has stopped at many points west of you before it gets to Newton, and when it's the first day of spring break, and when every seat is sold out on this run, there are no lower level seats.

No baggage service. Upper level seating. Middle aged woman with large, heavy suitcase. Younger woman with two heavy suitcases. I hopped up on the step stool, dragging my suitcase. From there, I stepped on the first train step. Stepped up and up and up, 3 more times, my suitcase dragging beside me, listening to my daughter struggle behind me. Stopped on the lower level and gazed at the baggage compartment, filled to overflowing with suitcases stuffed in there, like sardines in a can. Looked at the Amtrak man wearing a hat. His expression was unchanging. He pointed to the steps leading to the upper level.

I turned and saw a narrow stair case, not more than (I got out a yardstick to estimate) 24 inches wide. After the first three steps, the staircase made a sharp turn to the right. The steps were at least a foot high. At that point, I very much wanted to turn around and go home. I could not imagine how we were going to do this, but some things you do because you have to, you have no choice. So onto the first step I went, dragging my suitcase behind me. Also behind me is my daughter, voicing her disbelief and about a hundred other people, waiting on me to ascend.

Up, up, up. Three big steps. Hairpin turn to the right. 4 even bigger steps. Another hairpin turn to the right. 4 more steps. Grunting, straining, and almost in tears, I pulled my suitcase any way I could get it to go up, behind me, beside me, whatever, however, I could get it UP the steps. At the top, a very nice young man stood in the aisle and waited to get to his seat. When he saw me struggling, he took two steps down, and helped me haul it up the rest of the way. An Amtrak employee at the top of the staircase directed me to put it at the end of the car with some other luggage. The middle-eastern looking young man then helped my panicked daughter navigate the last steps with her suitcases. He ended up in the seat in front of us, and I profusely thanked him for his help.

We plopped down in our seats in the last coach car, panting, sweating, and amazed that we made it. We looked at each other. Well! We were off to a fine start!

Train Trip

I'm back from spring break! My daughter and I took a trip via Amtrak to visit some relatives in Michigan. As I explained to a brother-when you take the train, it's not about getting there quickly.

We left early Saturday morning-about 3:30am. Caught the eastbound "Southwest Chief". Landed in Chicago 12 hours later about 3:15. At 6:00pm, we boarded the "Wolverine" and 4 hours later (5 if you count the time change) we disembarked in Jackson Michigan, and headed by car to my brother's home about 20 miles away. Five days later, coming home, it was the reverse-got on the Wolverine in Jackson at 9:00am, landed in Chicago at noon, caught the westbound Southwest Chief at 3:25, ended up in Newton around 4:30am and home by 5:00am.

Traveling by train is an interesting experience. My goal to write about this several times in the next few days, so I hope you check back for further commentary. I'm pretty tired this evening, and not thinking very clearly.

I wish I'd written that...

So I got a wedding invitation in the mail yesterday. A homemade one, but it didn't look too bad. Until I read it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Snuffleopagus request the Honor of your Presents at the Marriage of their Daughter, Philomenia..."

I am not kidding. I have the invitation saved, in case any of you would like to review it.

Here's an email that was sent out:

"Please pass on to your employees:
The engineering staff has discovered a blockage in the pipes to drain the building restrooms. This is causing the pipes in the 2nd floor restroom to back up and drain into the SunTrust Bank. If possible, please refrain from using the restrooms unless it is an emergency. I will send another email when the problem has been corrected. I apologize for the incontinence."

And finally, from a church bulletin:

"Don't let worry kill you off-let the church help!"

Have a good day.

Challenges

I looked back on this blog at January, February, and March 2007. And that's one reason I'm glad I have a blog. I was busy, busy, busy last year at this time. And feeling quite overwhelmed.

This year, I'm in a much better frame of mind. I don't have as many evaluations to do at either school. I know more about what I'm doing. I'm more comfortable with the process. I'm feeling a bit more organized. And best of all, I don't have the internship class to worry about, like I did all last year.

I do have a lot of things going on at both schools. One of the best things about my job is the chance I have to build relationships with kids. For example, there's a lost younger student I've been getting to know-I found out he would like to learn to play chess. Although I have an understanding of the game, I'd like to see an older boy, or perhaps a male teacher take this challenge on-and play chess with this little guy. That's going to be one of my goals this week.

More challenging events occuring the last couple of weeks include watching a couple of siblings taken into protective custody, waiting on a young student being evaluated for a possible tumor, two evaluations for possible mental retardation are in progress, and some observation and work with an emotionally disturbed preschooler continues. This job has a variety of responsibilities-and that's one thing I really enjoy. It certainly isn't the same old same old every day.

Next blog entry: Parents who are connected with their cell phones, but who don't have any words of greeting or encouragement for their children.

Dishwasher Wars

For all six of you people who read this blog, help me understand something. How can a grown man "with opposable thumbs" do the following?

We have a portable dishwasher in our kitchen. Not a built-in one, like 95% of the people in the United States, but a portable one. It's a good one-it heats the water up and does a pretty good job of cleaning the dishes. It even has a built in disposer, should you put really dirty dishes in there.

To operate the dishwasher, you roll it out from the corner to the sink, you hook up the water hose to the faucet, and you plug it in. Then you push buttons, and voila! You're done!

You're done until the dishwasher has completed its cycle. Then, you unhook the hose and drain it into the sink, you unplug the electrical cord, you snake both of those lines back into the dishwasher and you roll it back in the corner. Voila! You're done!

I run the dishwasher in the evenings at bedtime. When the Husband comes home from his second job, it's done with its cycle. Husband gets a snack in the kitchen, and dutifully unplugs the cord and unhooks the hose. Snakes them both into the dishwasher. Voila! He's done!

What? That's right folks, you read it here first. He does not, ever, roll the dishwasher back into the corner. He leaves it sitting there in the kitchen, not unlike Ray Barone, who left his suitcase on the stairs in that famous episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond".

I determined today, as the oatmeal was cooking, that if he was gonna unplug and unhook it, he could take 10 seconds to roll it back into place and I wasn't going to. Amen. So, it's sitting out there. If you come to over to my house to dinner, watch where you walk. It'll be right in front of you as you go into the kitchen.

If I only had a brain...

How's this for an advertising slogan for a sugar substitute: "Sweetness-the most important ingredient in life." This was on the new box of Splenda that I opened last week. Usually, I don't pay attention to these things, but I stood there and read it, and wondered if it was true. Who made this brash statement? Where is their research to back up this claim? Were there studies conducted? How do the authors of this statement know that it's true? And if it's not true, why is it on my box of Splenda? Did this statement actually convince someone to buy this particular sweetener? "Oh! Look honey! The Splenda people say that sweetness is the most important ingredient in life. We'd better get this rather than the Equal, or the Sweet 'N Low."

This is an opinion, period. However, it was stated as if it were fact. Now you know where I'm going with this. How many other things do we hear, or read, especially in these days of political contests, that are opinions, but presented as facts? And many of these things that are said or written have quite impressive research findings. In one of the first classes I ever took at WSU, the professor challenged us to read and listen to everything with a critical eye. One of our assignments was to find news stories which made statements such as, "Four out of five headache sufferers prefer Brand X", and to come up with plausible explanations or fallacies regarding the claims.

When political candidates debate, they all present "facts". A popular retort is, "That's what he/she says! Let me tell you the FACTS of the matter." And what I really have a hard time with, are those who, just because their candidate, or radio host, or CNN or FOX commentator SAID it, it has to be true! Same thing about "the oracle of all knowledge", the internet. "I read it on the Drudge Report! It's true!" I'm not necessarily saying it's not true. I'm saying, don't let people spoon-feed you pablum and tell you it's true. Try to find out for yourself. Our pastor said a couple of weeks ago, "I welcome your critical thoughts regarding anything I say in this pulpit. You check it out for yourself. You read, you research, you study. Know what you believe."

Of course, this is way too difficult for many people. The Joel Olsteens of the world will tell ya what you need to do in order to be happy, rich and prosperous. Go ahead. Follow along. Don't stop to think for yourself. He's the one getting richer and happier, not you. But don't let that deter you. It's much less work to just let someone else do the thinking for you.