Word

Dear Woman on the Library Steps,

2010-08-02T15:28:00.002-05:00

I see you are sitting under that "No Smoking" sign. What are you up to? Oh...smoking? I guess the Legislators did not mean you when they passed the smoking ban, especially since you are sitting in the doorway of a building where many young children pass in and out. Carry on.

Help! I'm Stuck in a Nut Shell!

2010-07-28T10:11:00.005-05:00

WOW! It has been a long time since I have posted anything. As I look back at my most "recent" post, I began to think about the various projects I have intended to start and have not followed through. Here is a brief list:

Things I Find in Books blog posts-I still have a pile of random things I have found. It is sitting on my downstairs desk. These range from receipts to Presidential Trading Cards to old photographs.

Toastmasters Scrapbook- Several members of my club have been kind enough to gather things together for me, but they sit piled...near my downstairs desk. I even have the cardstock and album.

Wedding Scrapbook - We recently celebrated our 5th anniversary...no scrapbook yet. This is especially sad because my aunt actually put the album together, and all I need to do is put the photos in.

Begin writing a book- I have notes jotted for several book ideas, but nothing has come to fruition.

Running- I technically never started running, though I did research the concept. I looked up various training programs to help motivate me, but I never got so far as lacing up my running shoes.

Learning to play guitar- I owned a guitar for 14 years. I sort of knew a couple of songs at one point. Now those have escaped me. I realized I will never become a guitar player unless the ability comes to me magically in my sleep. It could happen. Yeah...and monkeys might fly out of my butt.

Here are a few projects that I am considering for the very near future:

Simplifying- I actually have begun to go through my kitchen to identify things I do not actually use. I have posted some on Craig's list and taken others to a local consignment shop. Another small success is that I have cleared out all my unread and unnecessary e-mails as well as unsubscribing to things I don't actually read.

Toasmasters Humorous Speech Contest-I have done this for the past couple of year, and I hope to continue for my third. This time around I will focus on the amusing points of dog ownership.

What about successful ventures? Here are a couple:

Wedding Afghan-I finally completed an afghan for my friends who were married almost four years ago.

Toastmasters-I served as an officer for two years, but am currently off the hook for official leadership responsibilities. I participated in two speech contests last year and earned Competent Leader and Advanced Communicator Bronze levels.

Teaching- I finished my 7th year as an English teacher, and the school wants me back next year. :) I even managed to mentor two student teachers who went on to find gainful employment.
Married- We passed the fifth year mark. That has to count for something.
Television- I have finally begun watching many television programs on my "Must Watch" list: The Flight of the Conchords, Little Britain, Arrested Development and Strangers with Candy to name a few. I also have Fawlty Towers, Weeds, and a few other choice nuggets on Netflix instant queue.

So...these are a few of the things I have been up to, or not up to. Maybe I will post something again in the near future. But I won't make any promises I can't keep.

Stuff I Find In Books

2009-08-18T16:07:00.003-05:00

Being someone that spends a great deal of time thumbing through books, I find many interesting things betwixt the pages. In the upcoming weeks, I will post pictures of the things I find in some of these books since I cannot think of clever things to write. My only regret is that I did not start collecting these items I soon as I found them-especially the presidential trading card I found in a used children's book for sale at the library.

I look forward to a new school year, when my students will use a vast array of whatever they can find to mark pages in books. There will be a bevy of makeshift bookmarks for me to discover.

To wrap up, I would like to share a few amusing quotes about bookmarks:

'I just got out of the hospital. I was in a speed-reading accident. I hit a bookmark.' Steven Wright

'Why pay a dollar for a bookmark? Why not use the dollar for a bookmark?' Steven Spielberg

'That won't work very well in Canada, where the dollars are coins!' Posted by AwsomeAud bookcrossing.com

Hello Again

2009-07-09T08:15:00.002-05:00

I am not sure that anyone really gives a rat's patooty about where I have been, but I have been a busy lady. Here is what I have been up to:

Finishing year 6 as a high school teacher, which included two new classes for me
In my backyard...doing some yardwork
Sewing and crocheting gifts for birthdays and babies
Writing and presenting speeches for Toastmasters, for which I am the recently installed second in command (I can feel the power surging through me!)
Creating the next great American novel...in my imagination
Watching The Office (British and American) and 30 Rock on DVD
Hanging out with my dog
Eating sugar free popsicles
Teaching Summer School, which includes a great deal of reading and planning
Having nightmares about eating meat-not even kidding
volunteering at the library-The Ground Floor
Reading Kyle K's stem cell blog
grading a vast array of assignments and essays
fearing my 30th birthday in September (though I swore it would be no big deal)
Grocery shopping
Rereading the entire Harry Potter series before I see the 6th movie
Wishing I had more time to drive back home to visit my family
Spending more money than I should
Celebrating my 4th wedding anniversary

And that is the past several months in a nutshell.

Invasion of the Bunny Snatchers

2009-04-26T09:06:00.003-05:00

I love rabbits. Because of this adoration, it is not surprising that I am ecstatic when learning about a nest of baby rabbits existing in my yard. However, the manner in which I learned about these babies is less than desirable.

Over Spring Break, I enjoyed spending a great deal of time outside with my dog, Izzy. She is very well behaved most of the time, so I allowed her to roam freely about the yard while I cleaned out flower beds. After an hour an a half, Izzy apparently became bored with lying around in the sunshine, so she began to follow smells and ended up in the flower bed at the top of the yard. I realized that she was shoving her nose into what appeared to be a hole, so I was curious to learn what she found to be so fascinating. As I walked to where she was, Izzy pulled out of the hole with a baby bunny dangling from her mouth. It was less than a week old with no hair and closed eyes. It was just a little squirmy thing, mostly pink with a few darker spots where brown hair would shortly grow in. I yelled, "Izzy, no!" and took the bunny from her mouth. It appeared to be unharmed, so I put it back in the nest. Before I could pull Izzy away, she pulled the bunny out of the nest a second time! Again, the baby wasn't hurt, so I returned it to its home as I tugged on Izzy's collar. Needless to say, Izzy was taken into the house for the remainder of the afternoon, as well as for all other yardwork sessions.

Contrary to popular belief, mother rabbits do not abandon their babies the same way birds do after their babies have been touched. As someone who once bred and raised rabbits, I am privy to the fact that rabbits are not as sensitive about their babies smelling like other things. In fact, by the time the mother rabbit returned to the nest that evening, the baby smelled enough like its siblings that the mother did not care that it had gone on a short adventure in a dog's mouth.

For a couple of days, Izzy was stuck on her leash while we went into the backyard to avoid another bunny related catastrophe. I stayed far from the nest, as well, knowing that the last thing those babies needed was a nosy neighbor. When Izzy was allowed off the leash again, I kept a very close eye on her to make sure she did not wander near the nest.

Things were fine in the bunny department for about a week...until one day when my husband beat me home. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw that Scott and Izzy were outside. Izzy was on the leash, but Scott unhooked her when I walked into the yard. She ran toward me, and I thought I was going to be lavished with puppy love. Nope. Izzy took that opportunity to run back to the seemingly forgotten bunny nest and pull a baby out. This time, the baby was wide-eyed and full of fur. I yelled for her to drop the baby as she began to walk toward Scott, apparently thinking she was doing something cool for him. She caught on to my worry and dropped the bunny, which scooted to hide underneath a plant. Izzy bolted, and I picked up the bunny, which seemed to be okay. I once again returned the baby to its nest, hoping that the bunny would continue to be okay. Of course, Izzy was kept on the leash for the next few ventures outside.

The next day, when I came home during lunch, I checked on the nest to make sure all the babies were alive and kicking. The nest was empty. This was a bittersweet discovery for me. I was disappointed that there were no cute baby bunnies for me to look at, but at least I knew they were all able to move.

That evening, my husband was concerned for the baby bunnies because they were scattered throughout the yard. He was determined to catch the babies and return them safely to their nests. I was unsure that this was wise, but I really wanted to hold one of the babies again, so I went for it. I did catch one baby and put it in its nest, only to have it run away as soon as I let go. Bummer. It bolted for the neighbors yard and ran underneath the barn. I am not sure what happened to it from there, for we have seen neither hide no hare of it. (Pun intended.) The remainder of the babies found some hiding spots withing close proximity of one another, and I tried to sneak of peek of them whenever I could. Alas, I have not been lucky enough to see one.

Then, the tragedy struck. When I returned home on evening, my husband said, "We had a bad night. I am not going to tell you what happened, but let's just say Izzy will need to stay on her leash when she goes outside." I immediately knew what I had happened, and I nearly cried. Izzy had managed to catch one of the babies. Though she most likely intended no harm, she is like Lenny from Of Mice and Men; she does not know her own strength. When she snatched the rabbit in her mouth, it crunched between her teeth. She did not want to give her prize to my husband, so when he reached for the bunny, she crunched it one more time and ran.

Eventually, the bunny was dropped and properly disposed of. I have not seen the other babies roaming about the yard. Unfortunately, there are two feral cats in our neighborhood, so Izzy is not the only critter smacking her jaws at the thought of fresh meat.

Rabbits, let this be a warning to you. As much as I would love to have you nest in my yard, you need to beware of the dog.

25 Things About Me

2009-03-08T19:01:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I have been meaning to do this for quite some time. This has been passed along through FaceBook, and it has taken me a month or so to get around to it.

Here goes:

1. I have absolutely no will power when it comes to chocolate, although I wish I had enough control to eat only chocolate that has been approved as not using slave labor in its production.
2. I have been thinking about becoming vegetarian for a while, and I finally took the plunge last summer. Although I fell of the wagon, I have been working hard at being vegetarian for a month.
3. I am not a member of PETA.
4. I often have dreams that involve my teeth falling out or on the brink of falling out.
5. I hope to someday publish a book. Probably a fantasy novel.
6. I am obsessed with my dog, Izzy.
7. I make sure I read for pleasure every night before going to sleep.
8. I played donkey basketball today, and it was awesome.
9. I love Star Wars.
10. I sometimes feel guilty when I show movies in my classes.
11. Today I bought Izzy her own pillow.
12. If I could, I would sleep 10 or more hours a day.
13. Someday I hope to compete in the finals of the Toastmasters International Speech Contest.
14. One of my goals is to stop drinking bottled water.
15. I hate when people talk on their cell phones while driving.
16. I am a terrible housekeeper.
17. I refuse to buy more than a few items at a time at Wal Mart. I once stood in line 45 minutes waiting to checkout.
18. I am having a difficult time coming up with 25 interesting things to write about myself.
19. I want to help people, but I am never really sure whether I am making a difference.
20. I sobbed several times while reading the last Harry Potter book.
21. Sometimes I eat mac and cheese for breakfast.
22. I failed my first driver's test.
23. I like bananas, but I don't like things that are banana flavored.
24. I refuse to watch the end of Gone With the Wind because I know it will make me sad.
25. I love YouTube.

Materialism

2008-12-28T12:13:00.003-06:00

For lack of anything better to write about, here is a list of the stuff I got for Christmas:

Craft Related Items

Charmed Knits: Projects for every Harry Potter Fan
Amigurumi World: Seriously Cute Crochet
money for yarn

Kitchen Related Items:

an apron and matching potholders (Believe it or not, apron was actually on my list)
cookie scoop

Personal Care:

a turban hair drying thing
shower and bath stuff
more shower and bath stuff
scented soap

Clothing

fuzzy socks
lambies slippers

Food and Beverage

hot cocoa mix with peppermint schnapps
120 bags of flavored green tea
chocolates

Miscellaneous

a humiliating photo from 1994...I had some major hair issues back then
a photo album for pictures of Izzy
DVDs that my husband bought for the two of us

And the grand finale:

A new Nikon Coolpix camera...Sweeeeeet!

My previous camera was causing me grief, but this new baby is a dream come true. On Christmas Eve I had given my husband a hard time about buying DVDs that he wanted and claiming they were Christmas gifts for both of us. Then, Christmas morning, he whips out the camera and I feel like a jackass.

I also had my first experience making Chex mix, which went so well that I am going to do it for New Years, even if it is just me sitting around playing Wii games and drinking green tea.

Probably the best part of my visit back home was seeing my niece and nephew. There will be some photos of them coming soon.

The scary moments both involved Izzy. Her head started shaking back and forth for no apparent reason, though she was completely responsive and still demanded that we rub her belly. Eventually she recovered, but we need to get her checked out.

On Christmas day we went to my aunt's house, leaving Izzy in the care of my in-laws. At a time when just my father-in-law was home, Izzy managed to eat a plate of cookies off the dining room table. My mother-in-law called us, we told her to call the 24 hour vet clinic, and the crisis was averted. She found out how to induce vomiting in Izzy, and she has been absolutely fine ever since. However, I am paranoid that my dog has developed a sweet tooth and I will have to fight her for my candy.

Coming soon...my goals for 2009.

I am getting old...

2008-12-15T10:41:00.002-06:00

Here is what I did this weekend:

Friday night: Wal-Mart for groceries and my advisory's adopt-a-kid, followed by sitting around, watching TV, and crocheting. I may have gone on the treadmill while watching Desperate Housewives on DVD, but I honestly cannot remember.

Saturday: Took some stuff to the dump; bought kitty litter, hay, and rabbit food at Farm and Fleet; bought garbage bags at Family Dollar; ate some leftovers; chipped ice off the driveway while listening to a biography of Teddy Roosevelt on Mp3; supervised the basketball game

Sunday: laundry; made a cake; went to the library; recorded my financial transactions from the last two months; made muffins; made lasagna; treadmill and desperate housewives.

Wow...booooo

Long Time No See

2008-11-24T20:22:00.002-06:00

My life seems to be running a mile a minute, and I have not been taking the time I promised myself I would in order to write to this blog. But, here are just a few updates for anyone who gives a rip.

I have slipped a few times as a vegetarian. I feel some guilt over it, but I just remind myself that I will do better tomorrow. Taking it one day at a time. I need to work on overcoming my cravings, and that will come with time. I slipped a few times when I quit smoking, but I have been cigarette free for years now. I am a work in progress .

Izzy is amazing! I cannot believe how lucky I am to have such a loving, well-behaved dog in my life. I love coming home every day and seeing her sleeping on my side of the bed, only to jump up eagerly as soon as I open the door. No one has ever been so completely happy to see me, and I am grateful.

My school year is going well. I have only had a couple of student problems, but I think I have always been fortunate when it comes to the students I have in my classes. One student was being disruptive overall, and I think another feels that he has been mistreated by me, or at least not defended in the manner which he would have liked when he was not in class. I am not perfect. I am a work in progress.

Lately, I have been coming to terms with some of the issues that have been subtly plaguing me. One of these has really been about 14 years in the making, but I am hoping to make Mom proud. She was a good woman, and I hope people feel the same way about me. I try to not hold grudges...I hope anyone who has felt wronged by me will find the grace to do the same.

The students who hang out in my classroom before and after school are fantastic. They make me feel as though I have something special to offer...in addition to turning on Saved by the Bell each morning before classes begin. I hope that I am making a difference and positive impact on some of these lives. I do what I can, though I am a work in progress.

This is beginning to sound like a cheesy poem, so I will take my leave. I have bunnies and pet and a puppy to snuggle.

Peace out.

Welcome Home, Izzy

2008-11-03T06:03:00.004-06:00

Meet Izzy. I first saw her image through the Rock County Humane Society web page, and I emailed it to Scott. We have both been yearning for a dog for quite some time, and I had a feeling that Izzy might be the one we had been waiting for. Scott met her on a Saturday afternoon while I was losing a speaking contest. I met her the next day and fell in love. We put an adoption hold on her and awaited the acquiescence of the kennel manager.

After school last Monday, I went straight to the Humane Society where I learned we had gotten the permission to adopt Izzy. I immediately called Scott, and bought a celebratory pizza from Papa Murphy's. (Normally, we get our pizza from Little Caesar's, so this was a special treat.) After dinner, I pestered Scott until we went on a doggie shopping spree. Although I wanted to buy oodles of things, we ended up with a doggie bed, two blankets (one for the couch and one for the car), dog food, a squeaky toy, food and water bowls, dog biscuits, and a leash and collar.

When we arrived at the kennel Tuesday afternoon, I filled out the paper work while Scott went to tell Izzy the good news. He returned to tell me that she was excited to be coming home with us. When the Society volunteer went to retrieve Izzy for us, we waited in anticipation, readying our collar and leash. Once Izzy was brought to our waiting arms, she hit the floor, rolled on her back, and demanded a belly rub.

The rest, as they say, is history. Izzy is an amazing dog, and I cannot believe how lucky we are that she is part of our family. I have never seen Scott look so happy with something that is not electronic, so I know he is also pleased with out decision to adopt.

Welcome home, Izzy. You are now a member of our family, and we look forward to many happy years together.

The Agony of Defeat

2008-11-02T10:08:00.002-06:00

Last Saturday I had my vocal chords handed to me at the Division Speaking Contest. I made the jumbo mistake of changing my speech. I thought that it would be a good idea to remove the story about finding poop in the toilet to eliminate the ick factor. I totally should have stuck with the ick factor because it was way funnier than what I ended up with. My original speech would have had more of a shot.

At some point, I will write out my speech and post it. I wrote bits and pieces in order to remember random jokes that I wanted to inject, but I never wrote it out in its entirety. This ended up being a great advantage to me when speaking, but I want to make sure that I do not lose that little gem.

On a brighter note, I got a dog. Her name is Izzy, and she is awesome! (Keep in mind, I usually sing the word "awesome" when describing my dog.) We put our official hold on her on Sunday, the day after my humiliation. Izzy is most definitely a better prize than a silly trophy, and she has basically taken over our lives. When I asked my husband whether he would miss me or Izzy more when leaving for a recent business trip, he responded, "Do you really want to know the answer?" Burn!

I must accomplish something today. I have big plans. Go to Sam's Club. Maybe renew my membership but definitely eat free samples. Then, I think I will hang out at Starbuck's for a while, grading papers there until the library opens. Or maybe I will just hide out and grade papers in a sample tent at Gander Mountain. That would be awesome. I should give that a shot. It will feel like a working vacation rather than just working my Sunday away.

Off to another adventure!

I Done Won Me a Trophy

2008-10-08T21:02:00.004-05:00

On Saturday, October 4th, I competed in a Humorous Speech Contest, and I won a trophy. Yay! I will be competing at the next level of competition on October 25th in Madison. I will not post my speech at this point because I do not want the competition spying on my secret material. Actually, it is because I am working on major revisions that will help me to dominate and intimidate the competition. Grrrr....Here are some fun photos. I look like a goon, as usual, but at least I did not get a zit.
Here are all of the competitors. As you can see, I am the only female, and I won first place...coincidence? Or Affirmative Action? Who cares. I'll take it!

The Contest Master is posing with me. He is actually my club president. I had to shake his hand three times, and I realized I have no hand strength. I actually have a bruise on my hand from where his thumb landed. Toastmaster Death Grip.

At this point in the morning, I was being interviewed by the Contest Master who asked me a question to the effect of "What do you do as a teacher?" My response was essentially the story related in "I Love my Job." Also, if you look closely, you can see that my eyes are red. Apparently, I was warming up my lazer beams.

I Love My Job

2008-10-04T12:05:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I asked the custodian to bring a random giant box into my classroom. (I was making a nice little fake desk for my third period student aide...it's a long story.) I realized what a brilliant opportunity I had before me.

Partway through 6th period, I decided I would try to scare the bejeezus out of my 7th period sophomores. I crouched underneath the box while one of my seniors stood guard. If anyone asked where I was, she would assure them that I would be there before the bell rang. Meanwhile, I was starting to get sore and cramped up. Apparently, I am not physically in shape enough for crouching in a box for 5 minutes. I need to do some yoga.

Once the bell had rung and the students were asking where I was, I knocked on the box. They all turned toward the back of the room at this strangely large box that served no particular purpose. (At least, I assumed they turned around...I just heard them muttering, "What the heck was that?" to one another.) After the appropriate seconds of pause, I started to shake the box. More confused sounds (and perhaps a bit of profanity) escaped the mouths of my students, and I began shouting "Get me out of here!" while pretending to struggle with this giant box. Some of the kids started laughing, others were genuinely concerned for my safety and came to my assistance.

When I finally emerged from the cardboard cocoon, I saw 26 astonished faces looking at me, and my two aides that hour started to laugh hysterically. Then all the students started laughing. I was laughing the hardest of all, yelling "I can't believe you didn't think to look for me in the box!"

That just goes to show the difference between seniors and sophomores. My seniors actually knew that I would pull a stunt like that. When I tried to hide to surprise 6th period, they started knocking on the box and putting books on top of it.

I love being a teacher! Seriously, in what other job could you hide under box one moment and then do grammar the next? Priceless.

Fight Fire with Pepsi

2008-09-07T09:21:00.001-05:00

“The fire is the main comfort of the camp, whether in summer or winter, and is about as ample at one season as at another. It is as well for cheerfulness as for warmth and dryness.” These words were spoken by Henry David Thoreau, most famous for living a simple life on Walden Pond. Thoreau spent his time growing his own food, living in a secluded cabin, and philosophizing about materialism. As someone who lived with a fire as one of his few amenities, he certainly would understand the comfort of a fire.

The ancient Greeks tell the story of the Titan Prometheus, who loved humans so much that he chose to give the humans the gift of fire. This act was forbidden, as Zeus felt that fire was a gift fit only for the gods. Zeus also knew that fire would cause war and destruction. Prometheus had only considered the positive attributes of fire, including warmth and food. He did not realize the problems that would be caused with his gift of fire, not the least of which was his punishment: to be chained to a rock while an eagle came each day to freshly tear out the Titan’s liver.

Both Prometheus and Zeus were wise in their own ways. Throughout the history of man, we have seen the destruction caused by fire, whether in the aftermath of a natural disaster such as a hurricane, or through electrical problems in a family’s home. However, by giving fire to man, Prometheus began a tradition that continues strongly into modern times: gathering around a fire to gain warmth and fellowship. Though Thoreau was very careful to not burn his cabin down as may have been forewarned, and appreciated, by Zeus, the philosopher truly appreciated the comforts intended by Prometheus.

Personally, I cannot imagine a camping trip without the joy of a campfire for my family or friends to gather around as we make s’mores, roast hot dogs, or just enjoy each other’s company. As a child, camping was a tradition, and my family went on several trips to camp at parks throughout Wisconsin each summer. In general, I have a blanket memory of sitting near the fire as bedtime drew near. I would yawn and curl up in my chair, insisting to my parents that I was not really tired yet. I loved to bask in the warmth of the fire, and I loved the smell that the smoke left in my hair, a reminder of the fire’s glow that wafted to my nose as I fell asleep, snuggled in my sleeping bag.

Through the smoky haze of vague childhood memories, I do vividly recall one specific incident involving the campfire, or rather the smoldering remains of the fire. Each morning my parents would bring the ashes from the night before back to life in order to prepare breakfast. Once the morning meal was over, we would be sure that the fire returned to ashes before going about the rest of our day.

On this particular morning, my brother David and I were wearing our bathing suits, in anticipation of going swimming in the nearby pond. David and I were anxious to get going, but Dad wanted to take care of some pest control before we headed to the old swimmin’ hole.
My dad told David and me to go back behind the tent. He was going to spray Deep Woods Off around our campsite in an attempt to create a bee free site for our return from a vigorous swimming session. I listened to my dad’s instructions and relocated myself behind the tent. I even went so far as to make myself small, turning myself into a little ball, just in case. I really did not want to breathe in mass quantities of deet. I closed my eyes and waited for the all clear signal, but it didn’t come, and neither did David. I had just begun wondering where David was when I heard a shout of deep distress, “AAAAAAH!”

I immediately froze. I had no idea who or what that scream had come from. After a moment of numbness, I put the yelling together with my missing brother and began to think of what terrible things might have happened. Had David gotten some of the bug spray in his eyes? Or maybe the bees knew that we were trying to eradicate them from our little corner of the woods and swarmed in on my brother, carrying him away in triumphant retribution. This idea started me on thoughts about being an only child, but I soon came to the realization that my brother probably still had his feet on the ground-probably.

I shook these thoughts from my head and decided to investigate. I peeked around the back of the tent, slowly and quietly inching my way back into the campsite. As I approached the scene, I saw my mom looking at David’s backside while my dad shouted, “Why did you throw Pepsi on him?”

My mom frantically responded, “I didn’t have any water!”

Mom was peeling David’s melted swim trunks from him when I shrieked, “What happened?!”
My dad explained that my brother had fallen into the smoldering camp fire ring. Apparently, instead of going back behind the tent, he had just gone back. And he backed his butt right into the not-yet-cool ashes. My mom had panicked as he jumped up and threw her glass full of Pepsi to put him out, since the water was out of reach.

Although David was incredibly embarrassed, his injury was not serious. It was nothing that a little of ice, some ointment, and a bandage could not repair. And he did need to sit on a pillow for a couple of days. All in all, his bathing suit suffered more than David did, though I was very angry I didn’t get to go swimming just because my little brother was stupid enough to fall into the fire.

Mom suffered her share of humiliation, as well. Dad found it so funny that Mom had dumped Pepsi on David that Dad told Jerry, the man who ran the camp store. Since we camped at this park frequently, Dad knew Jerry would get a kick out of the story. In fact, Jerry laughed so hard that Mom refused to go into the store for the remainder of our weekend trip. Unfortunately, Jerry remembered the story for years after and reminded Mom of her unorthodox methods of fire fighting each summer we returned. He would point out the new Pepsi display, or suggest a refreshing glass of Pepsi from the soda fountain.

Camping is an important part of my childhood memories, and the campfire was at the center not only of our daily camp activities, but also at the center of my camp memories. After all, what is a camping trip without a fire, and what is a fire without some type of burn-related injury. And although David does not have his liver repeatedly torn from his body, he did feel his own punishment for Prometheus’s gift, and I am sure that Zeus, and Jerry, and maybe even Thoreau, are still getting a good laugh out of it.

Vegetarian Victories

2008-08-14T09:45:00.002-05:00

Last weekend I went camping, which in my childhood was a relatively meatfilled experience consisting of burgers, bacon, and copious amounts of Oscar Mayer sandwich meats. However, as an adult, I am happy to have more discretion regarding what I eat in the wilderness. Plus, Scott put me in charge of our meals while we were there.

My only complaint is that my Boca Burger stuck to the pan. Scott did not want to assume we would be cooking over fire, so we used our Coleman gas stove. My Boca Burger did not like the pan, or rather it like the pan so much it did not want to leave. I scraped off the vast majority of it and enjoyed as I normally do: with cheese, pickles, ketchup, and mustard.

One cool development in my life as a vegetarian is that I have started craving veggie burgers and chik'n patties. I realized how far I have come alond when I was sitting at the library yesterday thinking about how good it would be to get home and tear into a Boca Burger with cheese, kethcup, mayo, lettuce, and pickles...my own little whopper. (For copyrighting purposes, I will call it a Whooper.)

I have been without meat for about two months, and it has become surprisingly easy for me. Scott has had a little more difficulty with my veggie lifestyle; he tried to feed me bacon while we were camping. :) I had to remind him that I do not eat meat, but it was all good after that. He is also not a fan of the cost of Boca Burgers, but I am okay with it. It costs less for me to buy four Boca Burgers than four beef burgers, and I don't have to worry about the Bocas shrinking when I cook them.

Life and Death in my Backyard

2008-07-26T19:36:00.003-05:00

My backyard is full of life in a daily basis. When we first moved to Janesville, I was sad that we would moving into a house where we would not see the plethora of wildlife as we did in the woods behind our Edgerton house. While living in Edgerton, I saw a vast array of birds, raccoons, woodchucks, squirrels, chipmunks, bunnies, garden snakes, and even deer on a couple of occasions. Though I was excited to live on the river in a house that had a long backyard with elaborate flower gardens, I was disappointed with the lack of knowledge regarding what type of wildlife I would see in comparison to the Edgerton backyard. However, I have been pleasantly surprised about what creatures I have seen inhabiting my backyard. In the three years that Scott and I have lived here, I have seen woodchucks, raccoons, squirrels, chipmunks, bunnies,and a vast array of birds as I did in Edgerton. Although there are no deer traipsing through my yard I have enjoyed seeing a variety of fish swimming near, and for several weeks, in my backyard.

When I peer about the back kitchen window, I am able to appreciate the beauty of nature. There are daisies and coneflowers blooming, as well as a few free-after-rebate rose bushes from Menards. Occasionally, a carp leaps through the air, having been startled by something more treacherous in the water. Scott and I are able to carry our canoe down to the river whenever the mood strikes us in order to enjoy the scenic Rock River and catch and release some of the fish. I am not interested in eating the fish we catch, and in fact, this was one of the reasons leading to my vegetarian transformation. I could not bear to eat something that has looked me in the eye.

Scott is adorable when it comes to the wildlife in our yard. For the past few weeks, he has been leaving sunflower seeds out for the chipmunk that frequents our yard, and the chipmunk will make eye contact with my through the kitchen window if there are no seeds waiting for him. I absolutely love watching the chipmunk stuff his face with seeds, even though he is already relatively fat.

However, Scott and I are less tolerant of one of the woodchucks living in our yard. Recently, he has begun to eat some of our flowers. It was amusing when he was eating our neighbor's flowers, but it is disappointing now that he is eating the flowers in our yard. Scott has been trying very hard to catch the menacing woodchuck in a live trap, but the little critter has been far too sly to become entangled in our wire prison.

Unfortunately, when I went outside to prepare for the lawn manicure, I noticed a squirrel caught in our trap. I was unsure of how to release him from his entrapment, and Scott was out of town camping with his buddies. I panicked. I certainly did not want this beautiful creature to be stuck in the trap, so I attempted to reach Scott through his friends' cell phones, since Scott forgot his own phone at work. After making a few calls and leaving a message, I returned to the squirrel and eventually figured out how to release him. When I had left him on my way into the house, he was jumping up, down, and all around the cage. But when I returned, he was laying on his side, making very little motion.

This horrified me. At first I thought he was messing with me, but then I realized this was no joke. Squirrels may like to cause car accidents in insurance commercials, but they do not mess around with live traps. I finally figured out how to open the trap, remembering from when I had to let out a baby woodchuck while we were living in Edgerton. (Ironically, at that point we had been trying to catch squirrels. Go figure.) However, this opening of the door did not bring about a rush of life as I had hope. In fact, I had to basically dump the ailing creature out onto the ground, though I did so with great care. Since I was wearing leather gloves for protection against squirrel insanity, I attempted to revive my patient by petting him and gently prodding him with my index finger.

It hit me that he may need some food and water and to get out of the sun. I found a shoe box underneath my desk and lay and old towel in it. I carefully lifted the squirrel onto the towel and place the shoebox in the shade of a large tree. I tore off a few pieces of bread and placed a capful of water next to him. He did not seem interested, so I poured a bit on his face, hoping this would prove inspiring. No such luck.

I was not sure what else I could do, so I left him under that tree to either heal or expire. I began wondering what I should do if he is hurt. Do I bring him in the house and find a quiet place for him to recover? Is that actually safe? Do I call some sort of animal services place? I pondered these questions as I filled the lawnmower with gas.

Turns out that none of my questions were necessary, because when I checked the squirrel a few minutes later, he had gone to the other side. I actually teared up and apologized to the body for not being able to help. My guess is that he had a heart attack after jumping around like a crazy head. However, my new problem was what to do with a dead squirrel. I couldn't bury him, because some stray neighborhood animal would dig him up. I couldn't toss him in a garbage can; the trash doesn't get picked up for several more days.

Finally, it occurred to me as I finished dumping the last bag full of cut grass into the back of the truck. I was going to the dump anyway, so I may as well take the poor little squirrel with me. It was slightly better than tossing him into the river. I carefully folded the squirrel in the towel and placed the bundle into a plastic shopping bag. He got to ride shotgun in my hearse.

At the dump, I did not ask where to put dead bodies, because I thought that might cause some issues with the guy at the gate, so I just improvised. Once I had swept the grass clippings from the bed, I pulled out the plastic coffin and walked to the dumpster. Before throwing the package into the metal maw, I said a few words: "I hope your life, though short, was rich. I am sorry for your death, and I am sorry you will not be buried with more dignity."

I was actually shaken by this experience. It made me sad that I watched a squirrel die. It brought back a menagerie of images of rabbits, dogs, guinea pigs, and hamsters I had seen die throughout the years. Why were their deaths so much more important than the deaths of wild animals roaming through my yard? Why were their lives more cherished than other animals?

Perhaps it is for the best that this squirrel died. My main hope is that he did not suffer much. And though I am sad for his death, and I am relieved that I did not need to nurse an ailing squirrel. I do not think he would have gotten along very well with the rabbits.

Marital Bliss

2008-07-25T08:18:00.002-05:00

On Saturday afternoon I was working on getting some laundry done. The dryer started squealing as soon as I hit the "start" button, and Scott suggested that it was feeling overloaded. I insisted that it was fine, but he insisted that I take out a couple of the towels. I did so, complaining, "What am I supposed to do with these wet towels?"

His response was, "I don't know. Shove them up your butt."

"There is no way that these towels will get dry if I shove them up my butt! In fact, they will get dirty and I will need to wash them again." As I said this, I was spreading the two wet towels over the empty laundry basket to wait for a less full load.

Scott just laughed, and said, "This is why our marriage works. We don't take things too seriously."

Scott was very proud of this story and shared it with his co-workers, who often ask how anyone would marry him. Apparently, our marriage is successful because we both enjoy jokes about shoving things up our butts.

Only in Dreams

2008-07-25T08:13:00.002-05:00

Last night I had a dream that my brother and his son, my 6-year-old nephew Joey, went to an Aerosmith concert. For some reason, the band was playing a relatively small venue, and David and Joey had seats near the front. For some reason, I was watching this whole scene from above, as though I was an embodied spirit. Partway through the concert, Joey slid from his seat and climbed onto his dad's lap, whispering in rapture, "Catsuits are awesome!"

If Freud were to analyze this dream, he would probably say something perverted. My personal analysis is that I need to change Guitar Hero character away from Izzy and stop eating cookies before bed.

I have started having nightmares about school beginning. I guess nightmare isn't really the correct word, but they are not necessarily positive. The most recent dream involved my wearing jeans and an oversized sweatshirt to school, only to realize that it was the first day for the students. I panicked a bit in the dream, then calmed myself down by saying, "It's okay. I have a reputation for professionalism, so it does not matter what I wear when I first meet the students. Besides, I am wearing dress shoes." Apparently, I was going for the Flashdance 80's look with my ensemble in that dream.

Christmas Angel

2008-07-16T07:01:00.002-05:00

It was my mother's idea, this tradition of
marching through the tree farm's drifting mounds of snow
for the Christmas tree, like a pioneer family,
my parents, brother and I.
Usually, we were as excited as she,
but this winter was filled with an unavoidable somber note.
Mom still had her blond curls that season-
the chemotherapy still months away,
and she was radiant in her favourite winter coat,
patched together lovingly like a quilt with pieces from the jackets
that my brother and I had outgrown in previous years.
And on this day, her blue eyes sparkled as she dance, a sugar plum faerie
kicking at the snow with her boots, and lobbing snowballs at our heads,
daring us to retaliate.
Christmas was my mother's time to shine,
and when she first spotted the perfect white pine,
she squealed with youthful glee,
and my father pulled out the ax that he had been dragging behind him,
hacked at the tree until it toppled over into a patch of snowy footprints.
"Timber!" called my mother, doing her best Paul Bunyan.
Once the tree had fallen, we carried it to the family van.
We were all feasting on the pine needles as they invaded our faces
and bombarded our noses with their pungent fragrance.
It was a struggle to squeeze that might tree into the back of the vehicle,
but we enjoyed every passing moment of our clumsiness.
laughing, the first of our last laughter,
reveling in our last Christmas together.

Anticipation

2008-07-15T16:14:00.002-05:00

A piece of microfiction from back in the day.

He sat looking at her blank face, trying desperately to read the salt water welling up in the bottoms of her eyes. All he saw was shock, and he regretted the words that had come from his mouth only mere moments before. They had been together for over two years, and he had never seen her without a response. After a few moments of not blinking, she finally turned her head to look at him in disbelief. He shook his head in apology and rested his head in his hands, not knowing what to say or do to make her feel better. A small tear slipped from her eye, and she appeared as though she wanted to jump from the bench, run away, and never speak to him again. And he knew she had a right to. He had known months ago that he should have done this, and waiting for so long had made this all the more difficult. He looked up at her, and wiped away the tear before it could drop from her face. She look afraid of him as he drew near, and he almost pulled his hand back. But he felt that he needed to touch her, that perhaps his touch would somehow bring her comfort, despite the fact that he was the one to make her cry. He was waiting with quiet desperation for her to say something, anything, for she had yet to reply with words since he had said his piece. She kept opening and closing her mouth, as though trying to take back her words before they even left her tongue. He retort finally came when she looked him straight in the eye, took a deep breath, and blurted out, "Yes, I'll marry you."

Bad Kitty!

2008-07-15T16:06:00.005-05:00

This is a random word poem I wrote in college. I kinda like it.

I spied the familiar sight of the cat sitting at the bathroom door,
As though she wanted to blow-dry her hair as well.
She stared at me with more intensity
Than any person I had ever met,
Seeming as though she was trying to penetrate my thoughts
As I have often tried to understand hers.
Our relationship has been very simple since the day we met:
She prances about the house with her secret motives,
I feed her and clean the litter box,
And we are both satisfied.
Occasionally,
She sacrifices her seclusion to snuggle up on my lap as I read,
and purrs musically into my blanket.
When I stroke her sleep back, her spine curves in appreciation,
Presenting the opportune moment for a precious photograph.
But her mood will alter instantly, and she will reverse herself,
Showing me only her tail as she leaps gracefully from my sight,
Until I hear the crackling sound of her tiny claws
Scratching on the wall.
She knows that she musn't do such a destructive thing,
So I must punish her, although it hurts me to slap her paws
and tell her that she is a bad kitty.
She runs to seclusion, and every time that it happens
I fear that we have lost our special bond.
But the next morning, she is at the bathroom door,
Staring as I blow-dry my hair.

King Me

2008-07-04T09:42:00.006-05:00

Recently, I received a crown, though I not the kind on top of my head. The kind in my head. Several weeks ago I had a cleaning and checkup, the first in far too long. (I have not been following the "every six months" recommendation very stringently.) I initially made the appointment because I feared a cavity. I was wrong about that, but in a not-so-good way.

As a young child, I did not have much concern for my oral hygiene. The first time I went to a dentist, in 4th grade, I had approximately 8 cavities. Yowzah! After the x-rays and consultation, I returned for a pleasant drilling and filling experience. (However, the only reason it was pleasant was because I was gassed off my rocker. They are lucky I did not know show tunes at that age, because I probably would have broken into a Liza Minnelli routine due to the intoxication level I was feeling.) One of the teeth that was filled was right behind my left canine. And that sucker was FILLED! In fact, there was more filling than tooth. Obviously, I valued my time too much as a young child to be bother spending more than 30 seconds brushing my teeth.

As time went by, I had 13 teeth pulled, a couple more cavities, and four years of braces. It should have been two years, but I refused to wear my headgear at night. Whenever I did install the contraption, I somehow managed to remove the entire apparatus in my sleep, and I would awake to find it strewn on the floor next to the bed. As an adult, I went through a couple of different dentists due to changes in my location, and took a feared cavity for me to search out a DMD in Janesville three years after I had moved there.

It turns out that I did not have a cavity...I had a fracture. In my ignorance of dentistry, I had no idea that this was even an option. The dentist informed me that I would need a crown. No, not a pretty, pretty princess a crown. A grown up, my tooth is broken crown. Yowzah! The prince-a mere $864. I swear to God, I nearly peed myself. However, it turns out that between my insurance and my husband's, the cost was covered. I would have urinated in the dentist chair for nothing had I not had such impressive bladder control in desperate situations.

Thursday was the fateful day. I had been told I had gas as an option, so I was fully prepared to shout a resounding YES! when asked if I would like it. My husband took a vacation day to get some work done around the house, so he offered to drive me. He had several crowns earlier in his life, so he was warning me about what was to come. After we had gotten in the car and were about to motor off, he sent me back into the house to take some advil. Wise man.

Scott told me about how the dentist would grind down my tooth in order to make room for the crown. I began envisioning my tooth being turned into a sharp little point, which led me to imagine what I would look like with all of my teeth ground down to sharp little points. Visions of Christopher Walken as the Headless Horsemen in Sleepy Hollow danced through my head.

I arrived only moments before my scheduled appointment, and Scott walked me into the office. I felt like a child being accompanied by her parent. When he saw that I was all checked in, he departed for his own previously determined missions for the next 90 minutes. I sat down and barely had time to read about fat kids in an old issue of Time magazine before my name was called by a girl younger than me who would lead me to the back and get things started. (It seems that each time I go to the dentist, there is someone younger working on my teeth. I worry that the next hygienist will be twelve.)

I think that Amy, who was working with Dr. Miller that day, was relatively new to the job because she had a little book that she referred to often. (It appears that she was trying to hide it from my line of sight, but I have amazing peripheral vision, which most likely comes from teaching and needing eyes on all sides of your head. ) Amy reminded me of the work that was going to be done to my skull and asked if I wanted gas. Duh. She pulled a crazy contraption over my nose which would pump oxygen, then nitrous, into my system. However, from the angle I could see the apparatus, it looked like a plastic pig nose attached to pieces of old school vacuum tubing. It made me feel as though I were part of "Pigs in Spaaaaaaaaace!"

As soon as Dr. Miller ambled in, he asked how I was doing while I nonchalantly flipped on the nitrous switch. He advised me to take in a few deep breaths, and as my chair was positioned back, I began to feel the sweet, sweet tumble into semi consciousness. The posters on the ceiling seemed to move above me. The cat started to paw at the nose of the horse as it nuzzled on the fence. Garfield, holding weights and wearing a leotard, began doing aerobics. The firefighters raising the flag at Ground Zero were actually moving the flag.

Dr. Miller droned on about what he was doing each step of the way, and I mumbled "Uh huh" to everything he said as my eyes wandered the new world around me. The song "Here Comes the Rain Again" began streaming from the speaker in the wall, and the Eurythmics had never sounded so delicious.

I was instructed to close my eyes in order to avoid having filling dust invade my retina, so I heard muffled buzzing and sucking sounds coming from my mouth for the next several minutes. There was also the unpleasant odor of burning bone as minute slices of my tooth were sheared from my gums. This was probably the most anxious part for me...the scent of my own bone as my tooth was separated from the remainder of my mouth. If I had been more cognizant, my brain most likely would have formed horrifying questions and images about other people who had experienced the scent of bone and other parts of the human form.

After the drilling session, Dr. Miller wandered away to work on another patient, and Amy was left to take impressions. This was not something new to me, as I had braces put on when I was 21. I was familiar with the goo that was placed between my teeth as my tongue tried desperately to feel and taste what was happening to its upstairs neighbors. There were two impressions that involved a tray being shoved into my mouth, and then I was rinsed off.

I am pretty good with dental impressions because I had them done several times when visiting the orthodontist. The first time was when I was a junior in high school. I had taken all the steps necessary to get my braces put on, including the impressions, but I had to cancel the appointment for the bracing because my dad's appendix burst. I know that sounds lame, but I did not drive yet, so I had no way to get to my appointment without my dad taking me there. (I did not get certified to drive until October of my junior year...I was afraid to learn to drive with my dad. We all have pretty bad tempers.)

I then went through the entire process again at age 21 when I got braces for real real. At this point, I truly had very little business getting braces because I had no money, was going to college, and had no insurance. I have pretty much the most amazing grandparents ever, who saw my need for oral hygiene and loaned me the money. (When Scott and I tried to repay them in full, they refused to accept our money. We'll get them someday.)

Since the last time I experienced the joy of impressions, there has apparently been a new development. Amy brought out a little gun instrument and proceeded to squeeze goo between my teeth. I bit down for 60 seconds, and she pulled out a blue gob of solid goo that had the shape of my teeth and bite. Impressive. Dental technology moves quickly. At least more quickly than I do in actually experiencing dental technology.

Amy stepped away to get started on the temporary crown, so I had a chance to check out what my shaved down tooth felt like. I wriggled my tongue up to the position where I expected to feel a sharp point, but all I felt was a little tooth nub. I kept poking at it in disappointed. This was not what I had imagined. But Amy returned soon after to try on my temporary crown.

At the end of the appointment, I found that the process took about 20 minutes earlier than I had expected. In some ways, I was disappointed because I would have to wait for Scott to return from his errands. The woman at the desk asked if I wanted to call my husband to let him know I was done. I let her know that he would arrive eventually, but really, I do not know my husband's cell phone number by memory. Honestly though, I did not mind waiting because I wanted to finish reading the Time article about the fat kids.

When Scott arrived, he snuck in on me. I had been trying to watch for him out the window, but he walked in before I noticed him. He was surprised to see me already in the waiting room, and I tried to explain that things finished early. However, the words did not come out that way. I sounded like Sylvester from the Loony Tunes cartoons. I spent the rest of the night drinking through a straw because the left side of my mouth was still numb, and I could not figure out where the cup was. Luckily, a straw is much less space to work with.

This experience was a wake up call about the way I treat my mouth. I think many people tend to take their teeth for granted, forgetting that these are fragile bones that do a great deal of work and need to be treated with care. The sugar and Diet Mt. Dew that had previously been such a large part of my daily caloric intake. Scott constantly reminds me how terrible the carbolic acid in diet soda is for my teeth, but I have been sneaking them in every once in a while, when I felt I needed a little boost. I think it is time to truly give that up, along with the meat.

Excuse me...I need to go brush my teeth.

Adventures in Vegetarian Land

2008-06-29T09:02:00.006-05:00

I am going down a new road in my life, and it is a pretty big deal. As someone who allowed her students to grill brats during third hour and is known to devour greasy pink cheeseburgers, it is rather shocking for people when I tell them I am going vegetarian.

I am working on my "vegetarian manifesto" and will post that later. But for now, I will list some of the challenges I know I will face in the upcoming weeks as well as some of the triumphs in my first four days of being meat free.

First for the challenges. The difficulty that I will face on a daily basis is that I am married to an omnivore. I respect that he is not choosing to follow the same path as me, but seeing as how I do the grocery shopping and cooking, there will be some contact with meat. My husband is not interested in trying new foods, and I am not going to attempt to sway him. I know better than that. I simply need to be creative with my food preparation. Recently, I made stir fry. I made the vegetables as I normally do, but I cooked the chicken separately and had it in a bowl on the side. This way Scott could have meat in his stir fry, and I could go completely veg.

Another issue will be family gatherings. My mom's side is a farming family, and it seems that they put meat into everything. Bacon is lurking in the salads, ham in the roll ups, and chicken on the bbq. As long as no one analyzes what I put on my plate, I should be okay. But I know that I can only hide my life change for so long. I will need to know what to tell them. Especially considering I have relatives who wear shirts that say: "PETA: People Eating Tasty Animals." I guess I will not know how to deal with those awkward situations until I am in them.

A third worry I have is dinner parties or eating at my in-laws' house. I think my husband will tell my mother-in-law with an exasperated sigh that I am not eating meat, so I may be able to avoid that confrontation. However, what happens when I am sitting at someone else's table, and I pass up their meaty entree. I do not wish to appear rude and ungrateful for their meal preparation. However, I do not want to give up my meatless position simply to be hospitable. This is something that I will continue to ponder.

However, I have experienced a few victories. I passed on meat that I normally would have engorged myself on at three graduation parties on Saturday. Yes, I even passed on cocktail weenies in barbecue sauce, a former favorite. I told several students who watched me devour brats that I am no longer eating meat. At first I was embarrassed, but I realized that I really have no reason to be. If I am going to be embarrassed of anything, it should be my wardrobe, but I don't let that bother me. Neither will I let being a vegetarian.

Not eating meat actually helped me from noshing on Saturday. There are so many things that I would have normally shoved down my gullet in a gluttonous frenzy, but I was able to say, "No thanks" and enjoy nibbling on some cheese and veggies. I was proud of myself, and I felt slightly less guilty about eating a piece of cake at each grad party. (Don't worry...they were small.)

Bite Me

2008-06-24T18:28:00.001-05:00

The words "bite me" seem to be written on my forehead in a language that can be read only by dogs. In the twenty-seven years that I have been alive, I have been bitten by dogs on seven separate occasion. Apparently, there is something about me that seems irresistable to canines.

I do not recall the exact age of my first dog bite, but I was certainly somewhere between being potty trained and being third grade. Our family had two dogs at this point. The first was an Irish Water Spaniel named Barney. This giant brown creature had the hardest tail known to man. Whenever he wagged, people were sure to run. If my brother or I complained that Barney had wacked us, we were told, "Barney was here first, so if we are getting rid of anyone, it is you kids."

Barney was a mellow dog who was great with people. He put up with us jumping on him and every other form of torture a child can place on a dog. On the other hand was the beagle my brother and I wanted to call Diamond because of the white diamond shape on his head. Obviously, we were very clever at a young age. One thing that I remember about Diamond is how we would sunbathe on top of our picnic table. Since he was a little more high strung, he was confined to as far as his rope would allow him to run, and the picnic table was his favorite place to lay. However, the incident that I recall most vividly was not a time when Diamond was enjoying the sun. It was an evening after my dad had come home from work. He had recently built a fire pit in the back yard, and I was easily amused by chasing Diamond around that fire pit. However, what started as my chasing Diamond soon turned into Diamond chasing me. I know he had no malicious intent, but when he managed to catch up with me, he took a nice grab with his teeth at my right ass cheek. I know that he did not mean to humiliate me, but the whole time my father was spreading antibacterial ointment in my wound, he continued to laugh at my misfortune. Looking back, I can see why he would find such an occurance amusing.

The next dog bite came a few years later while I was visiting my grandparents' farm. This dog was named Spot, and I thought we were good friends. I bent down to give my pal Spot a hug, and she jumped up to bite me on the cheek. I tried to pretend that nothing happened, but apparently the puncture wounds on my face gave Spot away. I was forced to walk around with vaseline slathered on my face to aid in the healing of this particular wound. To make matters worse, I was attending some sort of major Girl Scout gathering with my petroleum jelly covered face. The Scout leader I was with kept treating me as though I had some sort of terminal illness, constantly bending over me to make sure I was feeling okay.

At the age of twelve, a family friend pulled her car into our driveway to quickly pick something up from our house. She got out of the car to talk with my dad, and my attention was attracted by a cute little dog panting out the driver's side window. I greeted the dog and attempted to pet her. This dog did not appreciate my intrusion into her space and proceeded to bite my finger. As with Spot, I pretended that nothing happened and went about my business, away from the car and its dog. After the woman had pulled out of the driveway, my father said, "Did the dog bite you?" I denied the occurrence. He went on to say, "You should never try to pet a dog that is in a car. They are very protective of their owners cars." Thanks for the warning.

We had procured a Gordon Setter from a AKC certified dog breeder when I was in 4th grade. When my family went to pick out our dog, I grew attached to the runt of the litter, who was appropriately called Tiny. That little pup came right up to me, and I fell in love. However, our relationship was not to be, for my parents decided that we would bring home Jack, who was more up to the standards for the breed, just in case we wanted to show him for 4-H. I had no problems with Jack although he was little wound up at times. After a few years of happiness between us, I sat on the same couch as the sleeping Jack. I did not think this would be a problem, as I had done this on many occasions without incident. Nonetheless, this day was different. Apparently I got a little too close and startled Jack, who proceeded to bite my left ear. Blood gushed, and I held a cold, wet washcloth to my ear as my mother lectured me about not bothering sleeping dogs. Again, thanks for that warning.

On the evening of October 30 in my 14th year, I was sitting on the couch, spending some quality time with Jack. He had pet him and talked to him, and everything seem perfectly happy. Then, without warning, Jack pounced on me, biting my face. I never saw my mother move so quickly. She pulled Jack off me and threw him across the room. I was screaming, "Oh my God! Am I bleeding?! Do I need stitches?!" I was horrified at the thought of stitches, but my parents mumbled that I might need a few. My mom gave me a wet washcloth as my dad led me out to the car for a journey to the emergency room. I do not remember much about the car ride other than leaning back in the seat and lamenting that my favorite jeans had blood dripped on them.

At the hospital, the nurse warned me not to look at myself in the mirror when I went into the bathroom. Fearful of what I might see reflected back at me, I followed her instructions. The next thing I remember is laying on a bed in the emergency room and hearing the nurse tell me that the best plastic surgeon in the Fox Valley was coming to help me get better. I overhead the nurse telling my father that it was important to have a plastic surgeon because she knew how important it is for teenage girls to look good. My concern was just getting my face put back together.

When I finally awoke from my plastic surgery, the doctor informed me that I should try going to school the next day so that I would not feel shy about being around my peers. I did go to school, forgetting that it was Halloween. I was congratulated many times on my superior Halloween costume, and several people did not believe that I had been attacked by a dog. The worst part is that I had choir first period, so one hundred people could stand and stare at me rather than focusing on the music in front of them. I barely made it through first period. Both of my eyes had started to swell shut, so my parents came to rescue me from my misery.

I managed to steer clear of dogs' mouths for several years. However, it was only a matter of time before Fate would growl on me again. This time, I was bitten by another dog in the family, a Border Collie named Louis who belonged to my cousin Matt. It was the day of Matt's confirmation, so I my future husband, Scott, and I were attending the open house to help him celebrate. I was standing with my cousin, joking around with him, when Matt grabbed my arm and started to swing me around. Louis was under the impression that I was attacking Matt. The dog started to bark as I begged Matt to stop swinging me. Eventually, Matt did let go, but not until after Louis had taken a chunk out of the back of my right thigh. As I had done on previous occasions, I played the bite down as though nothing was wrong. A few minutes later, Scott noticed blood seeping through my tan capris. Scott had a few choice words for the dog before leading me into the house to help me clean my pants.

About two years after that, I was helping my aunt carry leftovers from a baby shower into her house. I had made one trip into the house with a large bowl of pasta salad, and the only thing I had to worry about was my own clumsiness. On my second trip, I felt a bite on the back of my left thigh; Louis had struck again. I did not even realize he was in the house, but now I was yelling at him for being a bad dog. Since this second bite, there is no denying that Louis and I are not friends. My aunt and cousin are kind enough to keep the dog tied up while I am around.

Despite my negative experiences, my family has had dogs since Jack. I also hope that Scott and I will one day have a dog of our own. I hoping for a pug, but Scott wants something a little bigger. To this, I say, "No Gordon Setters, and no Border Collies. I cannot take being a doggie treat any more."

MyFace

2008-06-22T20:39:00.001-05:00

As a teacher, I find that MySpace is a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because it allows me to get in touch with friends that I have not seen in a long time, such as people I graduated from high school with. It also allows me to stay in touch with students who have ventured off to college and need the occasional editing assistance from their former English teacher. On the other hand, there are current students who think it is cool that their teacher has a MySpace account, and they want to be my friend on MySpace. I am very careful to keep everything on my MySpace very G-rated, so I generally accept friend requests from students. This is where the curse has a tendency to come in. But more about that later.

We have all heard the horror stories associate with MySpace, Facebook, and other online social communities. Some young people have found themselves prey to sexual predators. Teenagers have found themselves suicidal, or dead from suicide, as a result of insults posted on these sites. However, everything written on MySpace should be taken with a grain of salt, as I shall soon illustrate.

Recently, I was perusing my account after having not visited for several days. There is a function on the site called “Bulletins” where members can post information for all of their friends to read. On this particular day, there was a bulletin from Big Joe, one the students who had requested my online friendship. The title of the bulletin read “End of Year Shit.”I will admit that I was intrigued, as this promised to be a revealing survey about Big Joe’s attitude toward school and perhaps his teachers. I should have heeded that title as a warning, but I clicked on the link and began reading the survey.

The survey started off innocently enough. There was one umbrella question that asked what people you talked most to during each class. When I read his list for 4th period English, I could concur with what he had written. I had to ask him to stop talking to one of these people on daily basis in class.

Then came the most interesting questions. Who annoyed you most during 3rd period? This question was not of interest to me because I do not know anything about Big Joe’s 3rd period class. Next, which period was the most boring? English. This was a bit disappointing because I pride myself on putting on a pretty good show in class. And we were in the middle of our mythology unit which is the general favorite of the freshmen. I frowned a bit, shook my head, and moved on to the next question: Where are you most likely to fall asleep or not pay attention? English. Not a surprise. Although I will admit Big Joe was good at paying attention to things other than what he was supposed to be doing, mainly paying attention to the twelve people he had listed in a previous question. I also acknowledge that not all people love English class, and I have come to terms with this alien idea.

Moving on, which class did you get the most homework? At first I cringed at the incorrect grammar, then I noted he at least acknowledged receiving more homework in Spanish than English. Not that Big Joe has ever allowed English homework to cramp his style or take up any of his free time. I can count the number of assignments Big Joe has completed without even taking off my shoes.

Which class was his favorite? Drawing 2. That’s cool. He does do a lot of drawing, and I am glad Craig High School has such an artistic outlet available for the students who move through our halls.

When asked if he liked lunch hour, Big Joe responded with a resounding “hell yeah.” I’ll give him that one. I rather enjoy lunch hour myself. That is when the students who enjoy my company come to eat lunch in my classroom.

The next question asked if Big Joe enjoyed going to school, and he replied, “yeah, I guess” without capitalizing the i. This did not surprise me because Big Joe is a very social creature and regularly interacts with a wide range of people throughout the day.

Then came the clincher: Which teacher do you dislike most? I did not expect the name I saw, and I almost could not fathom that it was true. My name, actually spelled correctly. Hilbelink. H I L B E L I N K. This young man dislikes me so much that he knows how to spell my name when he trash talks me on MySpace. Wow! I was flabbergasted. I thought back to all the times I had asked him to be quiet, sit down, no not on the desk, no in his own seat, get away from the door, stop throwing things, stop calling people that, and watch his word choice. Okay. I will acknowledge that our relationship has sometimes been rocky. However, there are many days when Big Joe is the first person in my room after 3rd period telling me about some traumatic thing that has happened to someone else in class. Every time he sees me in the hallway, he yells my name and waves vigorously.

I could not let this bashing on the Internet go unpunished! Once I picked my jaw up from my lap, I pressed the “Reply to Sender” button and tried to determine the best way to capture my feelings. I finally decided on what would be the most appropriate words. I would not call him names or ask him why he dislikes me so much. No, I know enough about negative attention seekers to understand this would simply make his day. Instead, I carefully typed: Remember, teachers read bulletins, too. I followed that statement with a semi colon and right parenthetical mark, which is text talk for a winking smiley face. I decided this would show him that I read what he wrote, but would confront him about it.

I went about my Internet life for a few more moments before returned to my MySpace page. I was surprised to see “1 new message” highlighted, and I was even more surprised to see that Big Joe had already responded: “and I care, why? Lol”. LOL of course meaning, Laugh out loud. And I was laughing alright, but not from amusement. I was making that sarcastic, “Ha ha” laugh you make when something is not really funny.

I refrained from responding. I decided to leave him guessing about my next move. I was not going to let this bother me any longer. I had a full Sunday night of Television viewing ahead of me, and I was not going to let this kid get in the way of my enjoying all new episodes The Simpsons, King of the Hill, Family Guy, and American Dad.

Each morning before school there is a group of regulars who show up in my classroom. As those students started trickling in, I began reciting the story of my misadventure on MySpace. Some of the students laughed (I think they were laughing at my over dramatic storytelling rather than my situation-at least that is the explanation I am going with in order to protect my fragile ego). Other students began asking questions to determine exactly who this “Big Joe” is and asked me if I wanted them to give him a hard time. Of course, I do not want to advocate violence or confrontation, but I felt warm and fuzzy that so many students were offended on my behalf. I asked them to leave the poor child alone, but I swear I have seen some of these young people giving Big Joe the evil eye in the hallways.

Third hour is my first class of the day, and I have prep during 1st and 2nd periods. I was busy running around the school, grading papers, and making copies, so I did not have much time to think about my cyberbashing. However, once third period came around, I told the class of juniors and seniors about Big Joe and his small words. This is a small class, but they are extremely loyal to me. I have known most of these students for several years from other classes, through their friends, or activities such as drama and forensics. These young ladies and gentlemen also began asking me questions in order to determine who the culprit is. A few of them said, “I know that kid. He’s a real jerk. Do you want me to beat him up?” Again, I was honored at their loyalty and desire to avenge my reputation. A couple more said, “You are my favorite teacher! How can anyone dislike you?” I settled everyone down, and we began our discussion of how Indian culture is represented in the novel Nectar in a Sieve by Kamala Markandaya.

After third hour comes fourth hour. This is quite a contrast in my overall schedule because I teach juniors and seniors followed by freshmen. Very different attitudes and maturity levels. It just so happens that Big Joe is the first person to walk into my classroom. I had busied myself with getting papers ready for class. When I turned around, there he was, joking around with one of his buddies. I wished them a good morning and began returning graded papers to students as they continued to trickle in. He asked if he could help me out by passing back some papers. I smiled on the inside, wondering if this was his response to my lack of my response the previous day. He grabbed a stack of papers and began calling names.

Later in the class, I was reading The Adventures of Ulysses. We decided to do the luke warmly popular popcorn reading. In this strategy, one student begins reading. When that student has decided to stop reading, he or she will say “popcorn” indicating that his or her turn is over. The student then speaks the name of another student in class. That selected student is the next reader until saying “Popcorn!” and choosing the following reader. However, if the selected reader is not paying attention and does not where he or she is supposed to begin his or her turn, then he or she is required to stand during his or her turn. I asked if there were any volunteers to begin the day’s reading, and who do you think shot his hand right into the air? None other than Big Joe himself.

As students continued through their turns of reading and shouting popcorn (In addition to yelling, “You need to stand up! You don’t know where we are!), there was some quite murmurs spreading throughout the class as non-reading students strayed their attention away from the reader. I would look up from my book to scan for the offenders. At this point, Big Joe would scold, “C’mon guys. Be mature.” I replied by simply raising my left eyebrow in Joe’s direction. I smiled on the inside.

I guess one good outcome of this is although one young man felt the need to trash talk me on the Internet, 100 other students are willing to defend me and stroke my ego.

Procrastination-A Speech for Toastmasters

2008-06-17T21:50:00.001-05:00

Toastmaster, Fellow Members, and Welcome Guests,

This evening I would like to talk you about procrastination. However, I put off writing this speech for so long that I did not get around to actually determining what to tell you about procrastination.

Okay...I am just kidding. I only procrastinated until Saturday, and that was only because I wanted to put off grading some essays written by my Senior Composition class.

As you may already know, procrastination is one of the easiest ways to not finish your work. One definition of procrastination states that this is an act putting off doing something, usually out of a habit of carelessness or laziness. Ouch. I prefer the notion that procrastination is simply putting something off.

After a few moments of pondering the concept of procrastination, I came up with several questions. First, where did procrastination come from? Second, what are the most common causes of procrastination? Third, why is procrastination really such a problem? And of course, how can a person end his or her own tendency to procrastinate. Without further ado, or further putting off, I will answer each of the questions.

First of all, is procrastination a recent phenomenon rooted in modern society's reliance on convenience? Or is this something that has been happening since the beginning of time? Did T-Rexes put off going hunting because they would prefer playing Halo 3 on X-Box, or is that just teenagers and lonely thirty year old gamers of today?

After much research (which included a visit to Wikipedia, the mother of all procrastination enablers), I learned that the word procrastination is actually rooted in Latin. The original form of the word "procrastinationomen", meaning "a putting of" is the noun form. The verb form, meaning "put off til tomorrow" comes from procrastinare. The roots of these words can be broken down further school. Pro means "forward", and crastinus means "belonging to tomorrow". Hence, a modern definition of procrastination could be putting off something until tomorrow.

Now that we know where the word procrastination comes from, what are the actual causes of procrastination? According to the University of Illinois Counseling Centers, there are primarily 7 reasons that people commonly give for putting their work off until the last minute, and I will present the three I find most interesting.

One explanation for procrastination is perfectionism. If a person fears not being able to complete a task perfectly, the person may choose to not complete the task at all. It is sometimes too easy for people to forget that perfection is impossible.

Also, procrastination may come from evaluation anxiety, which is often closely linked to the perfectionism issue. Many people fear that they will be poorly evaluated on a project and would much rather not complete the project at all than complete it and have it criticized. This is actually relatively common with students that I come across who seem to be slackers. They do not want to complete an assignment for fear that they will earn a failing grade. The students would much rather receive a zero for not turning it in than taking the risk of failure.

An additional reason that people put off completing work is lack of clear guidelines and expectations. For example, if a student is told to write a five page essay but is not given any information about what exactly is expected, it is very difficult for the student to get started. Therefore, it is even more difficult for the student to actually finish the project in a timely manner. In many such cases, a student may find it easier to just not complete the paper rather than ask for help.

Now that I have told you some causes of procrastination, you may be wondering: Is procrastination really such a big deal? Why should it matter if a person continues to put off the completion of a task. I found it surprising to learn that procrastination is not just a time management issue; it can also lead to other problems such as feelings of guilt, inadequacy, fear, depression, and self-doubt. This is especially common among college students or people who are recently hired at a new job who are not always sure about how to approach the work that is expected of them.

Procrastinators, Do not fear! There are thousands of websites and books dedicated to promoting the overthrow of procrastination. Though there are so many resources, they all say pretty much the same thing, which is what I am going to tell you now.

First of all, procrastinators need to learn more effective time management skills. One way to do this is to create a list of priorities. Determine which tasks need to be completed first based on deadlines and overall importance.

Once the task is set, a person needs to make sure that all necessary tools are within reach in order to avoid excuses for leaving the work area. When someone continues to create reasons for leaving the work area, that person is continuing to put off the work that needs to be done and is wasting precious time. If you are sitting down to read Grapes of Wrath before Oprah discusses it on her show, make sure you have the book, your CliffsNotes, pencils and paper handy. I would also recommend a cup of coffee or strong tea. This way, you will have no excuse to get up and further avoid your reading assignment.

If you are a procrastinator, you need to work on setting up your priorities. If the task before you seems unclear, do not be ashamed or afraid to ask for clarification. Rather than finding you incompetent, your supervisor, teacher, or manager will appreciate that you took the time to fully understand what is expected of you. Going back to that page essay, the student should not be afraid to walk up to the teacher and bounce a few ideas off him or her. If the student is heading down the wrong path, the teacher can help steer the student to the correct one.

When facing a difficult task, do not feel that you are inferior. No one expects perfection. Teachers, managers, and supervisors ask you to complete tasks because they think you are up to it. They do not ask you because they expect perfection from you. You are just as capable as any one else, so do not concern yourself with possible failure. Think of the things that only you can add to the project. Use your talents, skills, and personal creativity to make the final product something unique that only you can do.

Overcoming procrastination is difficult, but will make you much more successful than continuing with this habit of failure. Now that you know the history of the word, reasons people procrastinate, how it can cause failure, and how to overcome it, you can avoid saying "I meant to, but..." rather than avoiding the work you need to do.

Flood Update

2008-06-16T18:21:00.001-05:00

While there has been no new crap washing up on the shore, there have been a few nice additions to the yard. Eight to be precise. With the river flooding over the seawall, there is easy passage between the river and the yard. Happily, it is baby duck season, and a family of eight peepers swam into the yard for the first time yesterday. I find few things more adorable than baby ducks, and last year we had little duckies regularly skimming to our seawall to collect scraps of bread. (We later found out that bread is actually very unhealthy for ducks. It causes them to be malnourished and aggressive. That explains all the smackdowns we saw throughout the summer. It was sad, yet funny, to watch the ducks and geese duke it out for crumbs. Although the more I think about it, the more I think of a scene in Night where Germans are throwing crusts of bread into a cattle car containing dozens of starving Jews. One man killed his father in the struggle to get bread. I am freaking sick!)

In addition to the peepers, there has also been a baby bunny frequenting our yard. One thing I love more than baby ducks is baby bunnies! (Anyone who knew me in my younger days knows that my garage and basement were full of rabbits. Some people were lucky enough to have my old rabbit trophies bestowed upon them for very special reasons...they were in the hallway when my 1st period class decided to distribute the relics to passers by.) The darling little baby bunny has been nibbling on the grass in my yard, and my heart melts each time I see it. It is hard to believe that my fat rabbit was once that size. I love her dearly, but she OBESE.

It is sad to see the waters continue to rise, but I am currently amused because my neighbor, who has even more water in his yard, has landscapers working in his yard. What terrible timing. And what terrible entertainment. I need to stop laughing at the misfortunes of others, but I cannot help but chuckle at the irony.

Things I Have Seen Float Down the River or In My Yard

2008-06-15T14:45:00.001-05:00

logs
tire
Mt. Dew Bottles
liquor bottles
bigger logs
tennis ball
more liquor bottles
small child (just kidding)
carp (in my yard)
ducks (in my yard)
peepers (in my yard) aka baby ducks

This is not as a result of the flood, but last week a softball washed up near our yard.

Happy Carp, Sad Homeowners

2008-06-15T08:58:00.000-05:00

My backyard has become a recreation area for carp. As I look out the window, I see carp jumping through the air and surfacing, showing their ugly mouths in the place where I used to be able to see the concrete bench. With the recent torrential rains, our backyard seems to have become another section of the Rock River. The carp have been swimming around in the yard for two days, and yesterday I saw ducks enjoying our new pond. In some ways it is rather amusing, but in other ways, I realize there will be work involved once the river recedes back within its boundaries. Scott has informed me that the ducks and carp are tearing up the grass underneath the pool, which is very disheartening. I have grown emotionally attached to that grass over the years. We have shared many hours as I styled it with my lawnmower. It is like watching an old friend drowned and then be devoured by dirty drifter scavengers.

But, I will just drink my tea, watch the rain come down, and get over it. I am not that overly sentimental.

Comfort Zone

2008-06-11T19:51:00.000-05:00

There was a regular group of students that congregated in my classroom before school. I generally arrive between 6:30 and 6:45, so my room is an open and welcoming space for the early birds while they wait for their other teachers to arrive for homework help or for the tutoring program to begin. Others come in because their parents drop them off early for a variety of reason, and an open door in the hallway is more inviting than sitting in the cavernous cafeteria.

Blair was one of my most loyal regulars. If he arrived before me, I would see him sitting in front of his locker, surrounded by his piles of books, papers, and supplies. He would look up at me and say, "Hey lady" before returning his attention to his math homework. If I unlocked my door and ran to make copies, Blair would be sitting in one of the desks in my classroom when I returned.

One morning, Blair and I were listening to Queen on my little CD player as we had been doing for many days while he completed his math and I completed some grading. Blair momentarily paused in his calculations to say, "This is like my sanctuary," and then returned to the problems in front of him. That statement was one of the most moving compliments I had received. I had only had my own classroom since the beginning of that school year, and I had hoped to make it an open and comfortable place for students. The fact that students clustered in my room until the 7:55 warning bell did serve as a testament to my success, but Blair's words really helped to drive the point home.

I was reveling in a deep sense of self-satisfaction when I felt someone come up behind me. This was not unusual, as students often amused themselves by trying to peek over my shoulder or startle me while I am working at the computer. I spun my chair around when I heard Gretchen's voice whimper, "Mrs. Hilbelink." Gretchen was another regular who often came in to work on her drawing projects. I turned to face her, decked out in summer clothing in anticipation of the hot temperatures throughout the school. "I forgot to shave my armpits."

I guess you could say that this was my second verbal affirmation that my classroom had indeed become a comfort zone for many.

Teacher Odyssey

2008-06-02T19:13:00.000-05:00

An odyssey is defined as an extended voyage or journey. Perhaps the most famous Odyssey is the story of Odysseus described in Homer’s epic poem “The Odyssey.” Odysseus was drafted to fight in the Trojan War soon after the birth of his son Telemachus. Odysseus said goodbye to his wife Penelope and told her that if he did not return, she should one day remarry. He proceeded to leave for the war, which lasted 10 years. He was a great hero during the war, and the Greeks loved him for it. However, Odysseus forgot to say thank you to some of the important gods and goddesses, and they held a grudge against him. This grudge lasted 10 years, and it prevented Odysseus from returning home Ithaca until after Odysseus had come across countless trials and tribulations.

Teaching is in many ways like this epic tale. Teachers must fight a never ending battle with students who do not want to give up their rebellious streaks. Just when it seems the students have turned a new leaf, more challenges arise to get in the way of overall success. One of my greatest struggles has been to teach mythology and The Odyssey without having major mishaps or strange occurrences. This is more difficult than it sounds.

My odyssey as a teacher began at Winneconne High School, where I student taught in five sophomore English classes. Five hours of the exact same material. First period usually was a little rocky, but by 7th period, I had my lessons down pat. My cooperating teacher had asked me to create a transition lesson plan that would take the students from the Ancient Greece of Homer’s The Odyssey to the Ancient Rome of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. I began this transitional period by discussing Greek mythology. I asked the students what they already knew about Greek mythology from their study of The Odyssey, and I continued the lessons by discussing mythological characters and stories related to the epic, such as the tale of how the six headed beast Scylla was once a beautiful young sea nymph. At the end of a string of several stories in 7th hour, one of the students asked if I am Greek since I know so many Greek stories. I was feeling pretty pleased that one of the students seemed to appreciate my knowledge of ancient Greek culture, but I confessed that I am actually Dutch. I told the class, “The only cool story we have is about the little boy who stuck is finger in the dike.”

As the words left my mouth, I realized the impact they would have. Being that this was a teenage audience, their immature minds would immediately picture something very different than I intended. Their image would include the slang dyke for lesbian rather than dike for a type of dam. I tried to rectify the situation by exclaiming that a dike is type of dam, which led the students further into hysterics as they realized it sounded like I was swearing. I could not remain angry at the students for their laughter, and I soon also began to laugh at my less than careful word choice around of group of 15 and 16 year olds.

After the completion of class, my cooperating teacher confessed that she had once made a major faux paux while teaching Huckleberry Finn. I will leave that one to your imagination.

As a first year teacher at Craig High School, I was once again confronted with mythology and The Odyssey. The hero of this epic is named Odysseus, and he has been away from home for nearly 20 years fighting the Trojan War and trying to find his way home through a variety of obstacles set forth by Poseidon, god of the sea. Before leaving, he told his wife, Penelope, that she should remarry when their son Telemachus had a beard growing on his face. There are a hundred suitors trying for her hand, and she sets forth a daunting task to choose her new husband. Whichever man could string Odysseus’s great bow and shoot an arrow through twelve axe holes would be Penelope’s husband and King of Ithaca. Now, the story actually said shoot an arrow through twelve “axe rings”, but I was so involved in bringing the story to life that I used my own wording and stated “axe holes.” I ran the two words together, which made it sound as though I was using a profane compound word. The most amusing part of this is that I had taught this lesson four times before someone in the class actually began to snicker. It was the chuckling of one of my most mature students that caused me to realize what my words sounded like. When the realization dawned on me, I said, “Real mature, Kyle.” Then I burst into laughter. Needless to say, I have been very careful to choose my words wisely when teaching this portion of the story.

Most recently, I ended my current school year with the mythology and Odyssey unit. To celebrate our completion of studying the epic, the students held “A Feast Fit for the Gods” by sharing their most favorite foods with their classmates as they viewed the NBC version of The Odyssey.

The students were occupied with their food, so I slipped out to use the restroom around the corner from my classroom. I have heard of studies that claim the first stall in the restroom is always the cleanest, so I tend to navigate myself in that direction for it was probably a false sense of security. As I pushed open the door, I noticed that the previous toileter had left her mark in that stall. I try to be a good citizen and flush down deposits that are left behind, so I leaned in to press the lever. There was no budging this particular dropping, so I moved on to take care of my business next door.

Apparently my shock and awe was clear on my face, because as I slipped back into my room, the students noticed that something seemed to have shaken me. They asked what had happened, and all I could tell them was, “I just saw the biggest turd I have ever seen in the bathroom.” They were not sure how to respond to this remark. I am pretty sure that most students thought I was playing a joke on them. They gave me inquisitive looks, and I used my hands to try miming what I had seen. “I almost thought that it came from an animal, but who would go through all that trouble.” The students giggled in that “Mrs. Hilbelink is crazy” sort of way.

However, I moved to the telephone to do my civic duty of reporting heavy pollution to the authorities. I dialed the number for the front office, and the phone was answered by Arleen.

“Hi,” I said, not really sure how to proceed in an adult like manner. “Um…this is Nicole Hilbelink. I was wondering if you could call the custodians to the bathroom near my room. There is a giant…turd…lodged in the toilet of the first stall. I swear to God it is not mine.”

She paused while she ruminated on what I had just said. Then she began to ask questions to make sure she understood.

“Yes,” I assured her. “There is a humongous piece of poop in the bathroom. It is not mine. I tried to get rid of it, but it would not go down when I flushed. I didn’t do it.”

Arleen laughed at my insistence and said she would call the custodians to take care of it.

About 20 minutes later, one of the young ladies in my class asked if she could use the restroom. I assumed that the problem would have been taken care of, so I gave her permission to take the hall pass and use the bathroom. She returned a few moments later to tell me that she could not get into the bathroom near my room. It was closed off and the custodians were trying to lift something out of the first toilet. She looked a little surprised by what she had seen.

“See!” I exclaimed. “I told you!”

When I looked up at the television, I saw that the Odyssey movie was at the point where Penelope was introducing the challenging of shooting Odysseus’ bow through twelve axe rings.
As the years progress, I learn from my mistakes as a teacher. I become a more effective educator, and I learn to deal with difficult situations. Odysseus tackled the Sirens, a sorceress, the god of the sea, and the Land of the Dead. Just as he had his tasks laid out before him, I have had mine. However, I am sure that Odysseus would agree that no amount of training and experience can prepare you for the first time you find a giant turd in the toilet.

Resolutions

2008-01-07T21:17:00.000-06:00

I told myself I was going to start writing every day. Not working out so far. I was also going to stop drinking soda. Not working out so far.

Here are my New New Year's Resolutions:

I am going to start smoking again.

I will become an alcoholic.

I will gain about 50 pounds.

I will stop any excess activity.

I will eat more junk food.

I will stop bathing on a regular basis.

Okay...so none of these things are really going to happen. But I do find myself somewhat amusing when there is nothing else to amuse me.

I actually have been writing every day. I am carrying around a little note book to jot my thoughts into. Now I just need to start thinking. My brain is currently filled with Global Warming, Abortion, Animal Experimentation, and more Global Warming. Wow, Global Warming truly is a hot issue. And I totally meant that lame pun. Suck on that!

Rashtastic

2007-09-30T14:13:00.000-05:00

I have a rash. I have not suffered from a rash since I was a wee tot, so I am a little bitter right now. Apparently this is something that needed to get worse before it gets better.

It all started on Friday. When I awoke and looked into the mirror, I noticed a blotchy red section on the left side of my face. I did not worry too much...I assumed the spot would go away after I had been awake for a while. My face left my mind for several hours.

Then, during fourth hour, I happened to put my hand up to my face. There were raised bumps and not my usually creamy complexion (exaggeration). I ran to a mirror after class ended to see that the spot on my face had nott aken care of itself. I proceeded to call my husband to ask what he thought. He responded, "Are you sure you aren't just having a breakout?" Excuse me? I think I had acne long enough that I know what a breakout looks and feels like.

I asked my advisory if they had any ideas. It was determined that I had a heat rash. I could live with that. I had been extraordinarily warm and sweaty during the night, so it seemed like a reasonable explanation to me.

Once school got out, I busied myself with preparations for the friends who would arrive in a few hours time. I guess that my rash was not too noticeable, because none of my compadres mentioned it. (And they are not the kind to not mention something just to be polite. They would have said something.) I went to sleep on my other side in order not to irritate the rash, hoping that I had appeased the rash gods and it would vanish by morning.

Of course, the rash was still there the following morning. And since I have not self control, I attempted to relieve the itching sensation by rubbing my face with towels and other fabric. I also attempted to spread every type of topical ointment all over my face in order to assuage my sking, but no luck. I continued to suffer through lawn mowing, dumping the clippings, and a run to Wal Mart.

In the afternoon, I spent a few hours at the library. Since I have been to lazy to spend much time online these days, this was the first chance I had to diagnose myself at Web MD and determine what I could do to get rid of the pestulance on my face. Nothing. There is nothing I can do. Babies most commonly get heat rash, and apparently they bear it better than I do.

I put ice up to my face throughout the evening to help reduce the heat come from my cheek, and I hoped that another night would help reduce the presence of the rash. However, when I woke up this morning, my left eye was swelled half shut, and the western hemisphere of my face was puffy. My was across the room from me and said, "If it makes you feel any better, I can see all your pores. They are huge!" Yeah, thanks Scott.

So here I sit, at the library again, feeling sorrowful about the itchiness that I can do nothing about. Well, I can whine about it, which I am doing, but I do not think that will heal me. At least not on the outside.

I hope the swelling goes down before school tomorrow. I do not want to face 130+ high schoolers with my unsightly face. If I do not get better, I can always come up with a story about how I got this way...but what? I got nothing.

Iguanadon

2007-08-09T08:15:00.000-05:00

I was walking home from the library listening to Vonnegut's Hocus Pocus on my ancient Walkman. I was concentrating on the narrator because this was the beginning of the book, and I didn't want to miss any important details. Ahead of me, at the intersection of Racine and Main, I noticed two boys. They were maybe 11, 12, or 13 years old. I am terrible at guessing ages. All I know is they were too young to be my students. Once I registered that I didn't know these tweenage boys, I returned all of my focus to Vonnegut and his apparent fascination with Eugene Debbs.

"Hi!" I heard one of the boys say, not thinking that he could be speaking to me. I threw him a weak smile, acknowledging his existence and right to be at the same intersection as me. Then he said, "Greetings," and I realized that he was indeed speaking to me. I politely said, "Hello" in return, assuming that would be the end of the exchange, since I was obviously much older than him and listening to headphones.

"Look at that iguana," I thought I heard him say. I wasn't quite sure because it sounded like a rather random statement, and I wasn't really paying that much attention.

"Check out that iguana," he repeated. Okay, I guess I had heard him correctly. I looked toward him in puzzlement, and he pointed to his friend, who was standing on my other side.

I wasn't really sure what to make of all this, and I wasn't sure if this kid was for real or not. I decided to take a chance, and I looked over to my left. Sure enough, there was the other kid with an iguana on his arm.

I returned my attention to the boy who had initially spoken to me. He was now watching me expectantly.

"That's a....um...pretty big iguana," I said feebly to him, not really sure what he wanted from me.

The hand under the traffic light turned white, beckoning me to cross. I didn't look back at that iguana, and we went our separate ways.

Aspiring

2007-08-09T08:02:00.001-05:00

I would like to become a poet,
but how does one go about doing this?
Does one simply put pen to paper,
hoping the result will be beautiful?
Or does one ponder before scrawling words
that one hopes will be delightful and meaningful?
All I know is,
I have a notebook that I paid too much for
and a pen that was a gift from the bank,
and I am trying to create a work of art
waiting to create a masterpiece.

Out of Town Guests

2007-08-09T07:55:00.000-05:00

When my husband is out of town on business,
I have no trouble filling his side of the bed.
There are many visitors while he is away.
Some stay one night,
some stay many.
Often there are several guests at one time.

Kurt Vonnegut always visits,
followed by Jack Kerouac.
Once, Banana Yoshimoto stopped by,
and Billy Collins entertained me with his poetry.
Amy Tan is a regular,
as is Jane Austen.
And I musn't forget my close friend Ann Rice
accompanied by an assortment of vampires and witches.

I entertain them by interpreting their words with my voice,
chugging from a Dasani bottle
that has been filled from my tap.
Sometimes we have a drink together,
But usually we just enjoy each other's company.

When my husband returns,
There is no evidence of my lurid literary affairs.
My guests return to their rightful places,
and the Dasani bottle is tossed in the recycling bin.

Apples to Apples

2007-08-08T08:05:00.000-05:00

Apples
Today my summer school class was watching Eragon because we were studying the book this summer. I sat at a table with one of the students, and she immediately starting talking about things that had nothing to do with the movie.

"Have you ever had apples and peanut butter?" said she.

I responded, "Yes, I have."

"Isn't it delicious?"

Awkward silence.

She continued, "Last night my mom made me dessert. It was an apple that had the core taken out so there was no seeds. Then she poured 7 Up in it and sprinkled it with cinnamon, and she put it in the microwave for three minutes, and it was delicious."

She was adorable! It is moments like this that make me feel that I am incompetent as an educator, but at least I know what to make for dessert.

Technical Difficulties

2007-08-08T07:59:00.000-05:00

One day I was returning what I thought was a video about Nigerian folk art that I had been showing my Novel Study class. Actually, I sent my student aid to return the video and some other items to the library. Later that day I was cleaning my desk and came across the video that I thought I had returned. Apparently I had given must student an empty case to return.
During my third period prep the following day, I made my way to the library to return the video, explaining that I had apparetnly returned an empty case. This library aid and I had a good laught at my expense (since this was not the first time I had done such a thing), and I went along my merry way.

While I was in my planning room for lunch that same day, the library aid came in holding a VHS cassette. When I saw her, I panicked inside, fearing that something was wrong with the tape. She saw me, smiled, and said, "There was already a movie in the case, just not the right one." I felt silly about my mistake, but not as silly as when I saw the title on the video: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It was a video left over from a forensics team rummage sale. One of my classes asked to watch the video while they played games during a free day, and it sat on my desk until that fateful day.

***********

An unspoken teacher rule is "always preview a movie before showing it to a class." I will admit that I am guilty of breaking this rule on several occasions, and I had no problems as a result...at least not until January 3rd, 2007.

My Novel Study calss had been reading novels dealing with colonialism of areas such as rural India and tribal Nigeria. Neither of the novels that we studied had been turned into readily available films, so I decided to show Hawaii, based on a James A. Michener novel of the same name. I had read the description of the both the novel and film and decided that it was appropriate for our purposes. The video case held two cassettes, so I opened the lefthand side and took out the first cassette, popping it into the VCR without much further thought.

The film started with some music, which was not uncommon with longer films that I had viewed in my previous experience. We waited while the music played out, and eventually the story began. There did not seem to be any exposition or introduction of main characters, so we were rather confused by what we were seeing. Luckily, I had read some portions of the book, so I was able to give some explanation as to what was happening and who some of the characters might me.

During the second day of our viewing, some of the main characters seemed to be dying, and the climax appeared to be approaching. Confusion continued as the major actor proclaimed that he would work toward the christianization of the islanders even after the death of his wife. He walked away from the camera, and the end credits started rolling. One of the students asked if the movie was really supposed to be two tapes like I said. After a couple of moments, we all realized what had happened. I had not looked at the cassette I had taken out of the case; we had watched the second half of the film. This explained why we were all so confused with what was happening in the film.

We all had a good laugh about my ignorance of the film, and I put in the first half for us to watch. The students seemed to be more interested since they were able to learn about the main characters and figure out what was happening. And, of course, after finishing the first video, the students tried to convince me that they needed to see the second half of the movie again. Nice try. It would have given them entire week without a reading assignment.