Truly, I try to live my life as a peaceful spirit believing we never know what's going on in another's life so we really shouldn't judge. And for the most part I succeed with this mantra. Until recently....
Every now and then I see these crazy fads and think to myself, "Self, you need to get on the stick...we are about four great ideas too late from becoming a millionaire." Case in point, back in the teenage day when I was a babysitter and found myself suckered in gainfully employed the evening of the Easter Bunny's or the Tooth Fairy's planned arrival, if said hooligan tot would not conform cooperate at bedtime, I had a system ready to go. I would call a friend on the sly, have them call back and ask to speak with said hooligan tot where they would scare the crap out of them convey the importance of getting to bed on time because they could not come until all were asleep. Hey, what you call cruel I call character building, but lets not split hairs...
First of all, thank you to my Bestie for letting me borrow...oh, I don't know...like the MOST FUN THING EVER! Well, according to me, anyway. My daughters, on the other hand, claim to be scarred for life.
Lest anyone think this is one of those Bella-Edward-vampire-guy-with-the-killer-abs-that-turns-into-a-werewolf posts, let me set the record straight. I am pretty sure I am the only person in the free world who has not read one word of Twilight or anything remotely connected to it, so if you're looking for an Edward shout-out, all I'm gonna say is Monsieur Pattinson was Cedric in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire long before he sported fangs, so Harry Potter was, is, and forever shall be superior. But I digress...
All was quiet on the Western front. I was snuggled in tight, cuddled up and reveling in a great day complete with accomplishments aplenty. Dozing away in the bliss of tranquility, I was lulled into a false sense of security. It was then they came for me...
Okay, so here's the deal. Yesterday I shared with you my Faith Formation lesson on Discipline and Priority. And yes it was a great lesson, and yes we had some moments of sanity clarity. However, last night these monsters youngsters had me pulling my hair out.
After the first few weeks of Faith Formation witnessing my class behave like animals work to settle into a new class year, I thought we should start the next class discussing discipline and priorities.
There are some older women in my life I continuously learn a great deal from. Some are relatives, some are friends. Regardless of our relationship, they are a constant reminder of how we are called to be Christ for one another. At least this is what I tell myself during periods of wanting to beat my head excessively against the wall requiring a bit more patience than usual while simultaneously gleaning life lessons from all of them.
It has been one...of...those...days. One of those days when I should have worn my "I'm with stupid" shirt or better yet, just stayed in bed. These days don't come along very often in my world... Haley's Comet is more frequent than these downer days. But one thing is for sure...it's time for a good cry.
I am sitting here plugging away on the Quantitative Business Math homework, laying out the formulas and singing a little happy cheer every time a page-long problem equates correctly. Only 42 more to go...then I can start my Biology paper. Woo Hoo! It is about this time each hour night I pour a glass of wine and ask the rhetorical question: why on earth am I doing this?
A new year has begun for Faith Formation...or as many commonly refer to it...Sunday School. I have been a Catechist (read: Sunday School teacher) since I was 18 years old. As I am now 42, that equals about 100 years.
I have a terrible habit. See, I have a tendency to have the majority of a conversation in my head with the details pretty much worked out when I turn to someone and say, "Well, what do you think?" With a look betraying their suspicions of my impending loss of faculties, I realize I have done it again...expecting others to be mind readers.
So the Fall semester has begun and I am eye-balls deep into the homework flow again. One of my classes is a challenge; the other I find really interesting. This class is Biology, which is really saying something because...well...I'm an English major.
Hands down, my favorite fruit in the world is the raspberry. For such a little wonder, the sweet burst of flavor dancing on my tongue can compare to no other. I love to pillage the garden for these treasures, hot from the sun and so juicy they fall from the vine. The trick, or course, is avoiding all the thorns.
First of all, I have tremendous respect for all Moms...married moms, single moms, outside-of-the-home-working moms, stay-at-home-working moms...all of us have the most challenging and rewarding job in the world.
But I am pretty sure "they" hate outside-of-the-home working moms.
This weekend Upstate New York, along with much of the Eastern Seaboard, hosted a most ungracious visitor. Hurricane Irene announced she would be arriving by Saturday evening and could be extending her stay right into Monday. And I was in no mood to entertain.
I hate goodbyes...really I do. I hate saying goodbye to my children in the morning as we go our separate ways. I really hated saying goodbye to my brother the night before he moved away. Let's just "stoic" was not in my vocabulary that evening as I sobbed like a baby not knowing when I will see him again. But the really hard goodbye I have been struggling with for days has been to V.
It is pouring outside. I mean, absolutely torrential-lightening-illuminating-the-sky-accompanied-by-tremendous-drum-rolls-ending-in-crashing-cymbals-thunder-as-water-races-from-the-heavens-in-non-stop-sheets pouring. Hang on a moment...I think the weather channel is on the phone offering me a job...
Have you ever found yourself crashing into the same question regardless the direction you turn? Ironically, this has happened to me over the past week. What are you? What is the answer? Asked by an amazing book read devoured in 24 hours, from a conversation with a friend from high school, culminating with the homily in church this past Sunday, the same question was posed: are you in the "in" crowd or are you "out"?
Darn it...I did it again. I really did not mean to disappear for days on end. I know...I could have been laying in a ditch somewhere and no one would even know because I am so ungrateful I never even told anyone where I was. But I can't help it. I am drunk on summer.
What a week, what a week, what a week! Another busy emotional roller coaster whirling up and down mountains of blessings...sometimes hidden in the dips that make your stomach churn. Luckily...I know The Secret.
Well, once again it has been too many days since checking in to my world, but I have been on a mission. A genuine-Oscar-Goldman-the-world-is-hanging-in-the-balance-I'm-gonna-kick-some-bad-guy-heiney-mission.
So while I was perusing the New York Times today, I learned Sherwood Schwartz passed away. While I have known he was the brains behind "The Brady Bunch" (snort! Hee, hee! It strikes me as funny to say "brains" and "Brady Bunch" in the same sentence!) I had forgotten he also created and produced "Gilligan's Island." Understanding what a loss this is to the television-viewing world, I thought I would pay tribute to Mr. Schwartz in my own small way.
Upstate New York is in the midst of a beautiful hot summer. And as I have been awaiting this weather since about, oh, I don't know...January...I have been taking full advantage of it. Hence why I have been MIA since last week.
My dear friend, Bliss, tagged me in her recent challenge. Now it must be known...Bliss is one of my amazing friends from the blogging world who I find myself so in sync with I am pretty sure she, Adrienne, fojoy, Sara, and I could have been separated a birth. Of course, I have no concrete proof of this...just a good, strong hunch.
Recently I became quite concerned over statistics published regarding the education of our youth. Even more concerning than the statistics is the blame game. As I have real questions and earnestly want the thoughts of others (sans jumping on the mud-throwing bandwagon) I chose to go to the bookshelf to educate myself on what can be done. Naturally, I turned to Dr. Seuss.
Perhaps I was feeling a bit too ambitious. After a day with hardly any of the to-do list getting to-done, I thought I would take on a task that could be a bit enjoyable and show productive results. This was about the point I should have had my head examined and just went for a walk. Ugh...
At the risk of letting my English Literature geekiness shine through, let me just go on record to say as a New Yorker I am thrilled our government finally caught up to Chaucer's 14th century Canterbury Tales proclamation: Amor Vincit Omnia. Translated from Latin: Love Conquers All.