Birds Beware

I see trees and sky over there!

Yesterday a bird hit one of our front windows.  He flew off landing in a low branch as I watched.  Many times they are not so lucky.
This bird I believe hit it again later in the day and survived yet another time, flying to the porch roof for a breather this time.  I hope he's related to a cat... so he'll have seven to go.

Last fall one hit our back sliding glass door and landed on the ground below it.  (We have a new house - only 12 years old - so the deck isn't on the back yet - hey, we have plenty of time to get that deck.)  He must have seen the windows in the front and thought he could fly through back to front.  He sat there for a couple of hours just looking around.  I called Chewonki, which is a place around here that does Nature Education classes and also takes in injured wild animals, to see what I should do.  They were closing for the night, so said to just watch him, maybe put him in a box lined with towels and put a cover on it with holes.  By the time it was getting to be evening, when I looked out he had flown away.  I was relieved.  A bird in a box on my front porch for the night would mean I wasn't sleeping.  What if a fox, weasel or coyote came by?

Looks like we could fly right through there!

Some mornings our Golden Retriever, Pippi, won't step on parts of the lawn.  She'll sniff a spot and then go around or hop over it like it's tainted.  I'm sure we have plenty of wildlife that passes through at night.  If I feel guilty about a bird hitting my windows, I can't imagine the guilt if I set him safely on my porch and had him, in actuality, set up to be a boxed lunch.

The twelve large windows in the prow reflect the tall trees and sky on the birds' side.  I'm sure birds think it would be great fun to fly between the wooden posts and out again.  They just can't see the danger there.

I had never given a thought to the dangers of the windows when we built the house.  I love my view from the prow. From my side I can see the trees and sky for real.  They only reflect the inside back to me at night.

In a snowstorm it feels like I'm in a reversed snowglobe...like someone is shaking the outside and I'm inside all safe and warm watching the snow fall all around me.

I'm so sorry, birds, for my part in this.  I should have put in smaller windows. I'll remember that if I put any more windows in a house.

I wish I didn't feel so bad about fooling them.  I don't know what to do about it though.
Maybe some little danger signs posted outside in bird language...little silhouettes of a cat on a yellow diamond shaped sign?  I couldn't draw glass.  They wouldn't see it.

Up, Down vs. Down, Up

Up, down, 

Mom grips, 

Runs,

Then lets go. 

Up, down, 

Weaving wheel 

Snake prints 

In gravel and grass. 

Up, down, 

Two pedals, 

Little bike, 

On the ground. 

Up, down,

Boy’s spirit, 

Knee Scuffed. 

Up, down, 

Little bike 

Put away 

For another day. 

Up, down, 

“I will 

do that 

when 

I know

how.” 

Up, down, 

Door slams. 

Up, down, 

Mom sighs. 

There’s no 

Explaining

That you 

Need to

Do it 

To learn

How.

There’s no 

Explaining 

Down, up.

That was a hard day.  How do you convince him that he can't just not do something until he knows how to do it?  Of course, now he's grown, having learned how to ride his bike shortly after that incident, and now rides a motorcycle!

Do You SmileBox?

This newsletter design generated with Smilebox

Do you use SmileBox?
Did you know it's free for teachers?
Did you know you can make a slideshow, an invitation, a scrapbook, a calendar, newsletters, recipe books/cards, etc.?
Did you know you can add music?
Did you know you can post your creations online at Facebook, Blogger, Twitter, WordPress and TypePad; email them; print them or burn them to CD/DVD?
Did you know it's a great way to post/publish student work?
Did I mention it was free for teachers?
Below, I've posted a sample newsletter design and a scrapbook design I made with student work last March. For St. Patrick's Day we drew and colored pictures using only crayons that had the word "green" on them somewhere. (It's not the one I originally published, as there are a couple of typos in it!) There are loads of options for backgrounds and embellishments. Enjoy playing!
This is not an advertisement...really! I just enjoy this program and thought you might too! There are just lots of possibilities for educators and students! I would love to make a class recipe book, a newsletter for parents and student published books to post on the school website. And for personal use, I made a very nice collection of photos with text in a musical slideshow/scrapbook that I emailed to my niece after her son's first birthday.


To get the teacher's subscription click on SmileBox.com
No. Really. This is NOT a paid advertisement. I am not getting royalties or chocolates. I just think someone out there would really like to try using this fun site and do some really fun, creative stuff with kids...or without them! Let me know what you do, if you have a go at it.

Guided Feet

Where will we go -
On the ground, in the air?
Where Mom and Dad lead me
My feet will be there.

They move and they flex
And pump up and down
But so far this movement
Can't get me to town.

My feet can't yet take me
Wherever I choose;
I always must travel
In threes or by twos.

But someday I'm sure
They'll take me someplace;
They'll help me climb trees
And run a fast race.

Though I'll stub my toe
And stumble sometimes,
These feet will be tough
Wherever they climb.

When these feet are able
To go on their own
They still will be guided
To go where they're shown.

They may veer off course
Get on the wrong track;

But only a little then

These feet will come back.

So I will take care
And go where I should;
I'll use them to go where
They’ll do the most good.

Through trials and storms
Always guided by Light;
Never walking alone
Whatever my plight!

But first I must stand

Before I can walk,

And after I move

I’ll learn how to talk.

I’ll use these gifts wisely
Bestowed at my birth.

I'll walk in the Way
As I travel this earth.

Dog and Cat

I have a dog and a cat.

No.

I have a dog.

There is also a cat at our house.

No.

I live at the cat’s house with my dog.

That’s what my cat told me I should say.

The dog is perpetually looking to me to see what’s up.

The cat will let me know what’s up.

The dog waits for a bowl of dog food each morning and night.

We take her out on a leash to do what she does on the lawn near the tree line.

We don’t have to pick it up.  We’re in the country.  No sidewalks.  No plastic bags necessary.

She likes finding sticks to chew up.  She’s a golden retriever who will walk around happily with a chew bone for three days before making a tooth print in it.  She has 6 stuffed toys that she’s had for over 2 years with nary a loose stitch or missing eye.  But give her a stick outdoors and she rips into it like she’s making toothpicks.

The cat owns me.

The cat opens all the cabinet doors in the kitchen when his bowl's empty.  There is no mistaking his meaning.  His food is not stored in the cabinets, so I'm not sure where he got the idea to do that, but I guess he knows ours is in there.  So if we still want ours, we'd better get him some of his own now.
The cat gets his food in a little bowl that is barricaded by three kitchen chairs so the dog won’t eat it (otherwise we go through the cabinet issue again).  The cat can have some any time he wants.
We have to round up chairs if we have guests.  If the dog paced herself, she could have dog food all day like the cat has cat food, and we could have chairs to sit in that weren’t all huddled around a cat’s bowl.  But it doesn’t work that way.  Like my brothers and my sister and I when we were kids - the boys would finish their food and eat all the extras before we could finish ours.  I have a weight problem now. They had a wait problem then.  Anyway, that’s not about the dog and cat.

The cat does his business in the litter box in the guest bathroom.  Although we are out in the woods, he is an indoor cat. Cars and trucks are safe from running over him, but hawks, owls, eagles, ferrets, foxes and coyotes are looking for cats for dinner.  So he stays inside and uses the litter box.  He tried to train me to let him use the bathroom sink and tub.  I would have been okay with the toilet, but no…He almost had me trained, until I filled the sink and tub with water so he wouldn’t be able to use those spots.  It was still a problem if we had guests though.  Then I came up with the perfect, perfect…I mean perfect solution.  Glade Air Fresheners!  The ones that sense when you go by… Well, they sense when a cat has jumped into the tub or sink and make a hissing noise and spray a beautiful smell into the air!  Cats hate it!  At least our cat hates it so far, and they've been there for months.  Clean sink and tub, fresh air in the bathroom!  I win this round.

Cats are funny creatures - not too bright, but just bright enough to challenge the brightest of humans.  So I’m expecting any day to come home to a cat party in the bathroom, with Glade Air Freshener batteries dropped in the toilet, kitty litter in the sink and the dog barricaded in the corner with her empty bowl.

Virtually Versatile

Thank you, Linda of TeacherDance!  I had never heard of this Versatile Blogger Award, but what fun!  I appreciate the recognition and thank you for your kind words. So these are the rules:

• Thank the person who nominated me and provide a link
  back to their blog.
• Share seven bits of information about myself
• Pass this award along to 15 other blogs that I have discovered.

Now for seven bits of information about myself...

7. I used to raise Arabian horses in Minnesota. We mostly lost money on that venture.

6. We live in a log home in the woods on an island in Maine, and have just bought a cottage (our retirement home) overlooking the ocean.

5. We lived in a motel for 11 months after our house fire.  It was nice to have fresh towels each day.

4. We spent the second year of our marriage living about 5 hours apart during the gas crisis in the 70's (while he finished school and I had my first job teaching).  We met in a motel on Friday nights midway between our two apartments.  We had to be careful to fill our gas tanks on Saturday afternoon, since gas stations were closed on Sundays then.

3. I've eaten horse meat. That was not pleasant for a horse-lover, but it was cheap meat in the 70's.

2. I used to dance en pointe and was on the local tv talent show "Youth Cavalcade".

1. I am saved, and that's the best thing.

Now for the passing on of the award....drum roll, please! BTW, TeacherDance awarded most the the blogs that I read, so I'm searching out ones that I've read in the past and liked, but may not have "followed" or remembered to bookmark!  They are quite a disparate group of blogs!

The challenge was to make a dress a day for a year, spending no more than a dollar a day.  Most of the creations are very inspiring at New Dress a Day.

Alphamom.com  has become an interesting read for me, being a new grandmother.  My daughter has read this for a while now.  Very frank, funny and helpful for new moms and dads.  Entertaining for others.

MrTeacher.com has some good ideas about teaching and technology.  I like writing, but I love technology.

Grace for Women is a blog recently discovered by me for Christian women.  She reviews some books she's read, and generally talks about life and the Bible. 

Door Sixteen is an interesting decorating blog.  It's got some day by day stuff on decorating an apartment with bright colors, art deco and just interesting stuff.  It isn't my taste, but I love seeing how others look at the world!

OneSunflower not only does the teaching blogging, but infuses the blog with the arts.  I love the photos and projects!

I really enjoy One Literacy Coach.  Such nice voice in all the writing.  And her husband probably doesn't know what a part he plays in her blog.

Sprice's Heart for Writing is a combination of "teacher" and "personal" writing that I enjoy checking in on.

A Dress a Day features vintage dress patterns, humorous writing, and ways to "edit" clothing.

The Newborn Baby has great articles to get a new mom through difficulties that can occur beginning to breastfeed your newborn.
In Search of Balance by Mrs. V has good slices of life that include glimpses into family life, school life and self.
William of Mass Destruction is a nice blog written by a family of cats, starring William.  Their mom has thumbs.

Prose Cents offers glimpses into the past and present as a writer.  I enjoy the easy flow. 
Ruth's Slices from the Sofa writes about her personal life in prose and poem.
Ruth is a writing coach and writer, and blogs about the experiences in Ruth Ayers Writes.

Okay, done.  That took me all day.  I have done nothing but read blogs. . . and drink coffee.

The Feeling of Bats

I should have left earlier.
Darkness creeps in.
It touches the nape of my neck
And brushes my heels
Spinning wildly on the pedals.
Shadows of darkness
I've heard can get caught in my hair
As it streams out behind me in ribbons
Luring the creatures in.
Head low.
Elbows bent.
Careening home
Under the shadows
That flit and follow.


Can you tell how I feel about bats? I remember this night so vividly as I rode my bike home from the neighbor's house when I was probably 10 years old. I could see the bats as they appeared to be following me in the dim light. I so wished I'd started for home earlier!
To this day I cannot stand bats. I know. They are good mosquito eaters. But mosquitoes like me more than anyone else. I'm like a buffet for mosquitoes and, consequently, for bats. I
will not change my mind about bats, so don't even go there!

Endings and Beginnings

Fall
Days are bright.
How did I miss the ending of summer?
I was watching the beginning of life.
Spring has begun for others
In bright days
Of fall.

Cool
Nights grow long.
How did I miss the ending of warmth?
I was watching the beginning of strength.
Growth has begun for others
As nights grow long
And cool.

Beginning
Time is precious.
How did I miss the last boat ride?
I was watching a ship come in.
Treasure has arrived for others
In this precious time
Of beginnings.

This is what I've been doing

I've been out of the loop for so long. The morning my grandson was born my life changed.  My daughter came home from the hospital with this beautiful baby boy who wouldn't breastfeed. He was finger fed in the hospital, and she was encouraged to use shields and feeding syringes to to feed him. Nothing had worked and yet they sent her home. They supplemented him with formula at the hospital regardless of the big sign that said "I'm a breastfed baby."  And they sent her home with formula. Lots of it.
In a few days my husband had to go back to Maine. But I stayed here to help wean the baby off the bottle and onto the breast. It was not an easy job! He would have none of it and screamed bloody murder when a breast approached.(Now that's a picture!)
My daughter went through the typical post partum blues stuff. I kept her encouraged, fed, watered and corralled so she could just concentrate on pumping milk and feeding her son. She was exhausted. Pumping for an hour, feeding for 40 minutes, eating something for 5 minutes, trying to nap for 15 min. and start the sole routine again. When we realized that she could pump both sides at the same time it cut the pumping time in half. When she realized she could eat while pumping we shaved another five minutes off. Now she had a choice of a longer attempt at sleeping OR she could shower!
After a bit, we found that it was not THAT vital that mom be the only one to bottle feed, freeing up more time, as she could pump while the baby was eating.
By continually offering the breast and drizzling milk there when it hadn't letdown yet, he slowly got used to the idea that this was not a bad thing and stopped screaming at it.  However, no matter how much he wanted to, he could not seem to latch on.  A lactation consultant in the hospital had mentioned that his frenulum was a bit tight. We hadn't given that much thought, as he seemed normal enough to us and they had said and done other things in the hospital that hadn't given us the most confidence in them.  Both pediatricians that had seen him said that he was fine. And since he was gaining weight and being very healthy all around, they sent us on our merry way.
However, after three weeks of intense round the clock work and a couple VERY painful attempts by baby at nursing, we called in another lactation consultant to see if she had any words of wisdom.  She could see that he was gaining weight at a wonderful rate and that he wanted to nurse. He just had no ability to latch on.
This consultant also stated that the frenulum seemed a bit tight and the roof of his mouth had a high arch. So two lactation consultants said his frenulum needed to be snipped and two pediatricians said no.
After doing some research we decided we had to give the frenotomy a try. We had nothing to lose at this point and maybe a lot to gain if it worked.  One of the pediatricians who had seen him in the hospital was the only one we could find that did frenotomies. So we made the appointment on Thursday for the frenotomy on Monday afternoon.
When we got there the office was not busy, but we had to wait 15 minutes to get into the exam room, where he had to get woken up and stripped to get weighed. That took about one minute and then we had a screaming baby for 10 minutes while we waited for the doctor to show up.
At that point he looked at his records and said that he'd already looked at him in the hospital, and he was fine. We told him how he wouldn't nurse, couldn't latch correctly and the pumping routine was difficult to keep up. That's why he was doing so well, because mom wasn't!
We also mentioned that two LC's had said his frenulum might be too tight, a mild form of being tongue tied (although they hadn't used that term and neither did we). He told us they all say that about any baby that isn't nursing. AND he said that some babies just don't nurse! I couldn't believe what I was hearing from him. He said it was not necessary in this case,  and he showed us with a crude drawing on the exam table paper what a real tongue tied tongue would look like. We had of course already seen pictures of severe cases before. We hadn't even used the word tongue tied. Nor had we come in in a panic that this poor baby was tongue tied.
We asked what the down side would be if he clipped it.
Well, there would be pain and blood and chance of infection and it wouldn't accomplish anything because if your tongue was already moving freely cutting the frenulum wouldn't make it more free. Why would you put your baby through all that?
So then he sat back and watched us, waiting for us to say ok and leave.  But we didn't. My daughter and I looked at each other not knowing what we could do if this was truly not going to work, and if he was truly not going to do it.
However in the back of our minds was still the understanding that doctors since the 1950's have not been schooled in this since the advent of bottles (since babies who cannot nurse can usually drink from a bottle), that midwives used to routinely clip all frenulums with their fingernail at birth, and that he had the possibility of an unusual combination of high palate and tight frenulum meaning his tongue was just slightly short of being able to touch the roof of his mouth for the sucking action.
And then the doctor sealed the deal.  "I don't know why you would want to do this when his tongue is almost normal."
"It's almost normal?" we both asked.
"Yes," he answered, like we should be relieved about that.
And we were. But for a different reason.
"Then let's do it" we both said again at the same time (we must be related).
Almost normal was what we'd thought and why we were going to do it. We needed normal, or nursing was never going to work. Maybe it still wouldn't. But we'd gone from nursing repulsion to nursing desire in him in three weeks. We couldn't not know if this was the piece that was missing.
We had the frenulum cut. Fortunately we'd both read enough about it to know what it would entail. It would be harder on the mom than the baby. My daughter turned her back and covered her ears. I had to hold his strong arms. The nurse held his head and mouth. And the doctor did his job. It took only a few seconds. Baby was crying because he was being held down quite tightly. But he didn't get more upset when it was being clipped. And was quite happy when he was back in mom's arms. We left the office. No pain. No blood. No infection that I can even imagine happening with such a minor procedure.
And guess what. We went home, and he nursed. His mom and I cried.

A Great Day to Be Born!

in the early

morning hours

a Boy

slipped into

this world

so early

that

 he barely

missed

any part

of the day.

It was a great day to be born!

Chocolate cows quietly grazed on

Morning dewed fragrant green fields, and

Steaming fog lifted from night cooled meadows and ponds,

While the sun glistened on feathery tassels of golden corn

And giant puffy white whipped cream clouds floated in

A blueberry sky.

It was a beautiful day to be born!

but in the room 

Little Eyes

only 

saw

shadowy

figures,

eyes

and 

smiles

and 

heard 

soft voices

and felt

caressing

hands

softly

stroking

his oh, so,

soft face.

 It was a lovely day to be born!

Outside, the wide world was beckoning

‘Please, come out and play!

There is a world of wonder awaiting you.'

It was a wonderful day to be born!

but the

world of wonder

will still 

be there

tomorrow.

right now

he is

OUR

World of Wonder!

It was a glorious day to be born!

Our Grandson

Meet the newest member of the family; our first grandchild, Felix! What a handsome dude!
He waited to arrive until after our 8 hour drive. We got there at 2 am and he arrived at 4:15 am, weighing in at 7 lb. 3 oz. and standing 20 inches tall... if he could stand.
You know there has to be a poem in here somewhere! Just wait until I get some sleep! I've been up all night.

Smiling On Life

I took this picture of my son and his grandmother at our niece's wedding on Saturday.

Son

Of mine

Once so small

Smiling on life

Caped superhero

Defender of the weak

A sentry, righter of wrongs

“How are you?” I’d ask. “Pretty fine.”
I listened in awe and watched with pride

As he grew into a fine gentleman

Devoted to family and friends

Loving, giving, caring for all

Secure in his convictions

Trustworthy and honest

Life smiles on him, too

Quiet and strong

I smile to

Think of

Him

Was It by Chance?

Terzanelle

The Terzanelle is a poetry type, which is a combination of the villanelle and the terza rima forms.  It is a 19-line poem consisting of five interlocking triplets/tercets plus a concluding quatrain in which the first and third lines of the first triplet appear as refrains.  The middle line of each triplet is repeated, reappearing as the last line of the succeeding triplet with the exception of the center-line of the next-to-the-last stanza which appears in the quatrain.  Each line of the poem should be the same metrical length.

Was It by Chance?

Was it by chance

You’d understand?

Was it by chance?

Just for today

Someone was here,

You’d understand.

How would you know

With foreign ears?

Someone was here

Offering love

Within our doors

With foreign ears

Extending hands

Beyond a voice

Within our doors,

A kindred voice.

Was it by chance

Your first day here?

Was it by chance?

A muslim woman came to our church yesterday.  She spoke very little English.  We have a small congregation.  Was it by chance that we had two other people visiting us also for the first time who could speak some Arabic?  What are the chances?

I'd Give It a Ten

I am one day late for the August 10 for 10: Authors I Just Can't Live Without listing, but thought I'd like to do it anyway.  I may not be teaching now, but I still love picture books, and so will grandchildren when they arrive!
So here's my list of books I love to read to kids.  Some are old, some are newer, and the last I actually haven't read yet, but I'm pretty sure it will be a favorite after watching David Wiesner's video about it on his site.
So because it is the 11th day of August, I've listed 11 of my favorites.  They are old favorites.  I wasn't going for newer, so don't be critical.  These books are still good!
Besides, I'm tired.  I've spent all day yesterday standing in fog and mist watching while I have someone else's septic tank get cleaned and then doing a house inspection.  We'd better get this house.  I have a lot of money tied up in it already that ultimately will benefit the sellers! 
Today I've spent a couple of hours on the phone and an hour doing a loan application...for the second time.  I've been talking with a variety of banks who would love to work with us, but not the property.  It doesn't have a bathroom, insulation or heat.  It doesn't qualify as a house or a seasonal home. 
After many, many calls, finally one banker referred me to another bank that does construction loans.  I started filling out their online form, as the newest banker told me to do, but silly me...I filled out the construction loan application which said that I didn't qualify for this type of loan.  Another call to the loan officer.  No, check mortgage loan even though it will be a construction loan.  And finally, success!  We are in.  The mortgage loan officer has the information she needs, and is very optomistic about this route.  More on this later.

Miss Smith's Incredible Story Book by Michael Garland
Elmer by David McKee
A Campfire for Cowboy Billy by Wendy Ulmer
Trouble with Trolls by Jan Brett
Little Rabbit's Loose Tooth by Lucy Bates
Stellaluna by Janell Cannon
The Art Lesson by Tomie De Paola
Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney
A Chair for my Mother by Vera Williams
Little Mouse's Painting by Diane Wolkstein
Art and Max by David Wiesner

Thistles by the Sea

Thistles by the Sea

Braving fog that's coming in

Thistles by the sea

Fog hovers o'er the sea and land

And settles in on me.

Surging in to shore

Comes a misty roll

It overtakes my being

And reaches to my soul.

Don your bright sou'wester

Breathe deep the salty air

As foggy day approaches

To dampen tousled hair.

Wafting through the mist

Sounds a distant horn

Moans within the cloud

All sailors to forewarn.

Tomorrow will dawn brighter

For thistles by the sea

Lifting prickled leaves and head

They'll host a cautious bee.

The sun will kiss the waves

The fog will lift at last

And sailors will go out to sea

Their nets again to cast.

And thistles by the sea

Live on forevermore

Through wind and wave and fog

They'll stand beside the shore.

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

My grandparents were "Thistles", as was I.  They came here by ferry from Newfoundland just after they had their first child.  My grandfather was a seal hunter, sent out at the age of 10 or 13 to work on a seal boat; a fisherman and a lobsterman.  The Thistles have always lived by the sea.  And that is what this poem is really about.
I took the picture of the thistles at the edge of the sea, near our (hopefully) new/old cottage...which we are in the process of buying.

Waiting for Someone

The house sits alone

Waiting for someone

Who will not come;

A sealed box.

Open it tenderly.

Step quietly

Inside this

Glimpse of

Someone's life:

Clothing missing touches,

Photographs with muted voices,

Chairs dusty and cold,

Books closed and stiff,

Walls with faded, flowered curls.

Each room holding memories

Of someone.

The house sits alone

Waiting for someone

To come

To warm its core

To rekindle life

And love.

We will be

That someone now.

The Circus Was in Town Sunday (and No One Told Me)

It seemed just another Sunday.
As we gathered in the back room though, we were missing five of our twelve choir members.  It was a bit unusual, but we'd manage.  We'd just have to reposition ourselves and sing louder!

We filed in to signal the start of the morning’s message service.  All appeared normal.  But as in a "what's wrong with this picture" page, the differences slowly became apparent.  A couple that was normally two rows from the back on the center aisle was sitting two pews from the front on the side aisle.  A mother and son who were usually in the back pew on the left, were one pew forward of their rightful seats.   It’s not like people own pews or anything, but it’s still somewhat disturbing when people are displaced.  You know that something is up with God.

We sang.  We finished.  Nothing else was different so far . . .

We filed down and slid into to our seats, and the message began.

“Now!” I guess God must have said.

A baby cried.  This baby is usually asleep all the time.

From behind me I heard the low voice of someone, talking to himself.  “Very strange,” I thought.

And then the others came in . . . first a woman juggling a doughnut, a milk, a purse and a can.  She came down the center aisle as the preacher spoke and sat in the very front pew.  Then two men, carrying tall, slurpy drinks with straws joined her.  Shortly after that another man, followed by a second woman came in with their jumbo drinks and settled in with the rest.  I tried not to watch them, but the activity of those five people caught my attention at various times throughout the message.  A slight attitude of irritation had grown within me at their seemingly blatant rudeness. They looked like they were ready to watch the circus, not worship or learn about God.

They ate and drank, and looked at each other and nodded.  At one point one man realized he didn’t have a Bible, so he got up and bobbed from pew to pew to find one.  Finally finding one, he quickly ducked back into his front row seat.  Soon his nose needed blowing, and the two women began rummaging around in their purses.  No tissues, I guess.  He got up and went up to the altar, passing the preacher on the way, to get a tissue from a box placed up on the altar’s edge. 

The doughnut and milk finished, a can was pulled out.   “Snap, swish, fizz” the pull top was yanked open. One could only pray that it was a power drink.

The man’s nose required another tissue.  Why hadn’t he gotten two while he was up there?

At some point in all this I found my heart changing.  I listened to a small Voice inside of me, reassuring me that all was right.  Drinks continued to be slurped, purses poked and whispers whispered.  People were trying their best not to be distracted.  We were actually on our very best behavior.  I began to grin.  I remember the feeling of contentment and happiness starting to well up, and I knew God was doing a great work.  Shame on me.  I watched with a new attitude.

As the girlfriend was vying for the attention of her boyfriend to show him something in her wallet, I noticed that his eyes and attention kept going to the preacher.  He was looking past her.  He was listening past her.  The man who had gotten up for tissues and a Bible was finding passages as they were read aloud.  He was still slurping his giant green drink, but he was also caught up in the words that were being spoken.

At the end of each service, people may come up to join the church, ask to be baptized, pray on their own, or ask for prayer.  You may also ask for someone to show you how to be sure you are going to Heaven.

At that altar call three people joined the church . . .

and two men from that group had their names written down in Heaven.

The talker in the back pew came out of his Lotus position and went home. 

The displaced will probably get their pews back next week.

But aren’t circuses great!

Unpalatable Palette?

This is my palette for my soon-to-be grandchild's quilt.
Are these not the most vibrant colors you have ever seen together in one place?

Generations had come to places such as this.  As a little girl I had wandered the aisles along with my grandmother and aunt.  I'd hid amid the draped hidden passages, under rainbow laden tables.  As a teen I had ventured in alone, clasping the scrap of paper bearing the numbers I would need.

Today I was alone; my favorite.  No rushing, no talking, just looking, thinking and considering all the possibilities.

Marching to the door, determined not to get distracted from my duty, I could already see those bolts of lighning creating patterns on the walls inside.  I could feel the electricity pulling me in.  I took a deep breath and entered into the realm of neverending possibilities.   I was in.  I was in the land of lollipops, dark forests, exotic flowers, flowing rivers of silks and satins, and gadgets galore.  Exotic washes of color vied for my attention and I was soon pulled in, hopelessly lost to the world. . . for about 2 hours.

I had the most glorious time as my eyes drank in the marvelous colors and patterns, and my hands slid over silky smoothness, or sank into cozy plushness.   The potential was overwhelming.  Like a sculptor eyes a piece of marble and sees the future figure within, so I eyed the fabric around me.  What was calling to me?  What could be waiting, lurking inside this color, texture and pattern?

Making myself focus, I set off to get my own cart of creativity and promise.  I loaded it up with bolts of bold, bright colors.  I was going to make a baby quilt for my first grandchild, and I wanted the colors to be eyecatching and vibrant.  No sleepy baby colors for me. . . or anyone.

I rolled my cart with 10 bolts of fabric up to the cutting table.  Only one person was there before me and only one item to cut. . .good.  I won't have to wait long.  As I was waiting though, I silently pitied any person behind me.  I was only one person, yes, but with 10 cuts of fabric.

As the woman at the cutting table took my bolts of fabric and started cutting and folding my stash, she asked about my project.  She raised her eyebrows and looked a bit skeptical about a baby quilt in these colors.  She didn't say, "Oooh, how pretty". . . or "Aw, isn't that sweet. . ."
"They're going to love it" never came up either.

Another customer soon came up and stood in back of me, just as my striped fabric was being cut.  "Wow, that'll make you dizzy!"  They both chuckled at that, and talked about not being able to sleep in a room with a quilt of these colors.  I got the general idea that they weren't supporting my baby quilt idea.

I, however, know my daughter.  She WILL love it.  Her hair is purple now.  The first thing she noticed today when were "Hanging out" in Google+ today, was that my shirt matched her hair.  I held the yellow fabric on the left up to the camera so she could see it, just to see if I was on the right track.  "Oooooh, I love it!"  Those were her exact words.  I'm not lying.  Yeah.  I knew it.

The fabric I showed her is the flannel backing.  It doesn't look like flannel, does it?  It is so, so soft.  And it didn't pill or ball up when I washed it.  I love its bright yellow and all the light green, orange, pink and blue wavy lines meandering through it.

I'm excited to get started.  I've washed, dried and ironed each piece.  I wonder what the fabric is saying to me today.  I wonder which pieces want to be next to each other.  I can hardly wait to look at it again and see what design it wants to be!

Humph, dizzy.  What do they know?

They haven't seen dizzy till they've seen this quilt finished.
I'll show them dizzy!

I'm Watching You, Turkeys!

 

O        I

shall

patiently

wait

for just the

right moment.

Thanksgiving

 will be early

this year for me

 y

   u

       m

     m

   y

e

  o

        w !

I knew there had to be something on our front lawn this morning.  

Oh, to be on the other side of the glass!

When Does It Stop?

I wrote this after reading Ann's Twists and Turns post yesterday It is coming....  I'd been having a nagging "ticking" in my brain lately, and wondered what it was! 

“Bood-guy. . .”

“Goob-die. . .”

I am not going back

Don’t turn around

Eyes straight ahead

But

I'm hearing it still

“Tick, tock”

Faintly

Nagging

“Good-bye!”

There, I said it.

When does

The ticking

Stop?

I am so used to hearing it, that I imagine that I'm hearing it now. This is my first year of retirement, and still the tick, tock is a faint sound in my mind. I wonder when it stops?

Learning for Dummies

This past week I have been messing about with a Google program called SketchUp.  I tried my usual technique of starting out not reading any directions to see how intuitive it was to learn.  It wasn’t.

I drew some lines and rectangles of HUGE proportions, and some tiny.  Who would know?  The one that looked right had a measurement of over 1000 feet long, too big for for a house.  I went to the Help menu in the program, but it didn’t seem to do the trick for me. I needed more help than that.

Then I downloaded the book SketchUp for Dummies.  I have never. . . I repeat. . . n-e-v-e-r  e-v-e-r wanted to buy a-n-y book that said it was for dummies.  But at this particular point in time I was feeling like I might be one, so I bought it.  I read a couple of chapters, and it got me started, but I still felt dumber than I thought I was.

Next I went to YouTube to watch some demonstrations, and that is where I finally started to understand what the author of the book was trying to say.  It really isn’t that difficult a program, just not as many familiar functions as other “new to me” programs have going for them. 

As I watched the demonstrations, I tried to replicate what they’d done.  Sometimes I’d go back to the book after the demonstration just to reread parts of it.  Then I’d try it again on my own.  Slowly I’ve found it easier to work with.  Yes, chairs will still have one leg that seems to shoot out or shorten suddenly, a bit like Alice in Wonderland when she was changing sizes unexpectedly.  But more and more as I watch, read and try I am improving, and not so many weird and unwonderful things happen as I create a building or table.

What I like about learning things like this is that I can identify so much more with anyone I’m trying to instruct.  Even though this program isn’t one that I’d be teaching in my classes, there is definitely a benefit to students when I learn new skills outside of the education territory. I am reminded when I teach something that there is more than one way to learn, that hands-on is very necessary, that after learning in one way you can introduce the other methods which might now make sense, and that small chunks of learning are good, but don’t leave the new learning for long before picking it up again.

For most learning, the problems come from the way it is presented and the student’s perception of themselves as learners.  I tried three times before finding the way that worked for me.  I’m no dummy.  I know I’m not.  Kids don’t always know that about themselves; they’re waiting to find out from us whether they are smart or dumb.   Unfortunately, when they don’t get something, they assume the worst. . . they’re dummies.

Lack of time, knowledge or materials may mean that we don’t try another method. . . well, we may speak more loudly, but that is not technically another method and is rarely effective with students of normal hearing.

I am continuing to learn SketchUp on my own, another lesson to pass on to our children: they can find the resources and learn things on their own forever.  They are not dummies.  They are not dummies unless we tell them they are.

My mother once said to me

when I was

getting upset with myself

and getting tired

but refusing to quit

“Are you afraid that someday

someone will find out that

you really

aren’t smart?”

“Yes,” I said,

“I feel that way, too,” she whispered,

and gave me a hug.

“You have nothing to be

afraid of.”

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

Happy birthday, Mom.

I miss your wisdom.

I hope I have enough stored up
to use when I need it.

I miss your outlook on life.

I hope I can always remember
to see the world through your eyes.