Thoughts from the Land of the Missing
One of the reasons that I decided to become a teacher was that I desperately, deeply want Saturdays off. Especially in Spring. (insert picture of someone in paroxysms of laughter) There is something about the quality of light, or air, or spirit of the day or whatever that I love. Saturday mornings have an energy that encourages productivity and at the same time lets you be free and unencumbered by the myriad things you accomplish and need to accomplish. It is easier to clean and garden and scrub and pick up on Saturday than the west of the week. Especially in Spring. I love Saturdays, especially in Spring, but not when trapped in a windowless, airless building that forgets what sunshine even is. I want Saturdays off. Especially in Spring. Oh well, there is always July.
My housekeeper quit. She didn't just quit my house, although I have seen my house and wouldn't blame her. She is seeking employment as a CNA en route to an RN degree. I rejoice for her, but I feel like my legs have been swept out from under me. I know I'm not responsible enough to run a house; I don't do the things that need to be done to take care of one on a regular basis. I don't really know most of the things that need to happen.
The kittens are out of quarantine. LD and I played Simba with them and found the little incisions nicely healed. I was worried that they would be mad at being cooped up for so long and run away, but yesterday as I did some preliminary rearranging in the music room all the dogs and both the kittens were there hanging out with me. Reason #2 I don't want cats is because they don't stay home where they belong and where they are safe. Drives me crazy. They hang around here, at least so far.
It is time to get ready for church now, and it will be a struggle again today. I want very much to be at church and partake of the blessings and community of communion, but I want very much to stay home in my jeans with my dogs and maybe sleep off the headache. Or just be quiet and home. How old will I have to be to not have this teenage anger over the simple act of dressing up and going to church? It's really hard not to sit and cry about having to go. Why is that? I love church. I love the hymns, the rituals and the lessons, but I don't want to go. Maybe some time I will grow up.
The teaching has been going well lately, and in that one area of my life I am finding peace and satisfaction. My technology has allowed me to slow down a lot, and it making the students better. I am learning so much, mostly because there are a couple of students in each class who are giving feedback about what is working and what is not and how they feel it could be better. I am learning things about the use of color in lecture notes, which I am finally putting into electronic format. I have even developed a technique of opening a word processing program and typing things in live as we go along, going back and highlighting things as we build connections. There have even been requests that I print some of those up.
Nelly got into my church bag a couple of weeks ago in her constant search for food. She found the cinnamon lips I was using to keep myself awake, and scattered them all over the house. She lost my palm pilot, which I take to church to update the ward directory. The other thing she did I can't write or speak about yet. I am heartsick over it. She tries so hard to be a good dog, but since I don't keep all four legs of the chair on the ground she gets bored and thinks she can chew whatever she wants. She keeps bringing pages in beautiful handwriting that seem to be some kind of account book. She ate the first volume of my Robert Jordan set. I don't get the obsession with books. Actually I do. I have an obsession with books. I love to have them, arrange them, handle them. Another sacrifice to my poor excuse for a life.
I really have to go get dressed now, or we won't make it on time, which for Dad is at least twenty minutes early. He carries on the habits of living in the mission field. It's also the only way to get a space in the little church parking lot in our downtown church. Otherwise, one has to walk in from Stoker, not a hardship on such a day as this, but annoying when leaving I have to get the car and come around to pick up Dad. It's all good though. I have a Dad to pick up, and a car to pick him up in.
Okay. I put on my favorite new skirt (black with white embroidery), a dark maroon shirt and a beautiful white short jacket and got myself to church. It was well worth going to. Sat by my friend Sylvia during Sunday School. Paid my tithing. Picked good songs for Relief Society. Very good. Went to choir this morning, too.
Yesterday I got another of my much-needed lessons in humility. The Dance Concert this year is going to be a good one--Bonnie is doing a Broadway theme and bringing back several of the industrial-strength voices to sing while her girls dance. One of them is Holly Jo Samuelson, who has played Fantine on Broadway. As most of you know, I sang "I Dreamed a Dream" for a while and do it kind of okay. I slapped a headset mic on Holly Jo and sat back and soaked it up as she blew me out of the water. There are reasons she is on Broadway and I am not. Amazing. That would be worth the price of admission and sitting through a dance concert in and of itself, but she is also bringing in Brad Robbins (Enjolras, Dr. Cravin, the Beast); Megan Olsen (Carlotta), Mike Bierwolf (Jean Valjean) and several others. It's going to be amazing. I'm enjoying this more than any dance concert since the literature one.
Haven't been able to use the CPAP lately because of a snotty nose. Didn't think the thing was all that effective until now that I'm without it again. How did I ever function? Well, I didn't. And I don't now. Hope my nose gets over Spring soon. I'm getting tired of having apnea.
Made hamburger of my left hand yesterday. There is a brass floor pocket behind the first row of seats in the centre, with two electrical outlets and a clear-com port. I opened it up to set up for the long and tedious lighting sessions we will have to sit through, and in prying the lid up it finally sprang free and took some divots out of my fingers. Add that to the slices from screws I was breaking off last week and it is really hard to write with pen and paper. The owies are all where things set, or where the hand meets the paper. Grr. And I had to choose and write new music and copy it to give to the presidency. Adaptation!
The next three weeks will be stuck-in-the-auditorium. I just got back from singies. It's such a lovely time. I think I can face things now. Have a good week all.
My housekeeper quit. She didn't just quit my house, although I have seen my house and wouldn't blame her. She is seeking employment as a CNA en route to an RN degree. I rejoice for her, but I feel like my legs have been swept out from under me. I know I'm not responsible enough to run a house; I don't do the things that need to be done to take care of one on a regular basis. I don't really know most of the things that need to happen.
The kittens are out of quarantine. LD and I played Simba with them and found the little incisions nicely healed. I was worried that they would be mad at being cooped up for so long and run away, but yesterday as I did some preliminary rearranging in the music room all the dogs and both the kittens were there hanging out with me. Reason #2 I don't want cats is because they don't stay home where they belong and where they are safe. Drives me crazy. They hang around here, at least so far.
It is time to get ready for church now, and it will be a struggle again today. I want very much to be at church and partake of the blessings and community of communion, but I want very much to stay home in my jeans with my dogs and maybe sleep off the headache. Or just be quiet and home. How old will I have to be to not have this teenage anger over the simple act of dressing up and going to church? It's really hard not to sit and cry about having to go. Why is that? I love church. I love the hymns, the rituals and the lessons, but I don't want to go. Maybe some time I will grow up.
The teaching has been going well lately, and in that one area of my life I am finding peace and satisfaction. My technology has allowed me to slow down a lot, and it making the students better. I am learning so much, mostly because there are a couple of students in each class who are giving feedback about what is working and what is not and how they feel it could be better. I am learning things about the use of color in lecture notes, which I am finally putting into electronic format. I have even developed a technique of opening a word processing program and typing things in live as we go along, going back and highlighting things as we build connections. There have even been requests that I print some of those up.
Nelly got into my church bag a couple of weeks ago in her constant search for food. She found the cinnamon lips I was using to keep myself awake, and scattered them all over the house. She lost my palm pilot, which I take to church to update the ward directory. The other thing she did I can't write or speak about yet. I am heartsick over it. She tries so hard to be a good dog, but since I don't keep all four legs of the chair on the ground she gets bored and thinks she can chew whatever she wants. She keeps bringing pages in beautiful handwriting that seem to be some kind of account book. She ate the first volume of my Robert Jordan set. I don't get the obsession with books. Actually I do. I have an obsession with books. I love to have them, arrange them, handle them. Another sacrifice to my poor excuse for a life.
I really have to go get dressed now, or we won't make it on time, which for Dad is at least twenty minutes early. He carries on the habits of living in the mission field. It's also the only way to get a space in the little church parking lot in our downtown church. Otherwise, one has to walk in from Stoker, not a hardship on such a day as this, but annoying when leaving I have to get the car and come around to pick up Dad. It's all good though. I have a Dad to pick up, and a car to pick him up in.
Okay. I put on my favorite new skirt (black with white embroidery), a dark maroon shirt and a beautiful white short jacket and got myself to church. It was well worth going to. Sat by my friend Sylvia during Sunday School. Paid my tithing. Picked good songs for Relief Society. Very good. Went to choir this morning, too.
Yesterday I got another of my much-needed lessons in humility. The Dance Concert this year is going to be a good one--Bonnie is doing a Broadway theme and bringing back several of the industrial-strength voices to sing while her girls dance. One of them is Holly Jo Samuelson, who has played Fantine on Broadway. As most of you know, I sang "I Dreamed a Dream" for a while and do it kind of okay. I slapped a headset mic on Holly Jo and sat back and soaked it up as she blew me out of the water. There are reasons she is on Broadway and I am not. Amazing. That would be worth the price of admission and sitting through a dance concert in and of itself, but she is also bringing in Brad Robbins (Enjolras, Dr. Cravin, the Beast); Megan Olsen (Carlotta), Mike Bierwolf (Jean Valjean) and several others. It's going to be amazing. I'm enjoying this more than any dance concert since the literature one.
Haven't been able to use the CPAP lately because of a snotty nose. Didn't think the thing was all that effective until now that I'm without it again. How did I ever function? Well, I didn't. And I don't now. Hope my nose gets over Spring soon. I'm getting tired of having apnea.
Made hamburger of my left hand yesterday. There is a brass floor pocket behind the first row of seats in the centre, with two electrical outlets and a clear-com port. I opened it up to set up for the long and tedious lighting sessions we will have to sit through, and in prying the lid up it finally sprang free and took some divots out of my fingers. Add that to the slices from screws I was breaking off last week and it is really hard to write with pen and paper. The owies are all where things set, or where the hand meets the paper. Grr. And I had to choose and write new music and copy it to give to the presidency. Adaptation!
The next three weeks will be stuck-in-the-auditorium. I just got back from singies. It's such a lovely time. I think I can face things now. Have a good week all.