I sat down at a table today with four teens who are still learning English. Our goal was to learn the past tense of some irregular verbs, like drive/drove and eat/ate. Most of us who grew up in this country take for granted the fact that we know delightful grammar rules like this. This is often a struggle for these kids, and if you ever tried to learn a foreign language as an adult, you can sympathize. So like I said, I sat down at the table today and started off with, "Today, we're going to talk about verbs. What is a verb?" Fingers snapped in the air, accompanied by several "ums" and desperate appeals to the ceiling tiles. In their Spanish-mumbling, I heard the correct answer—in Spanish—so I asked them to teach me. It wasn't enough to just tell me "accion", they taught me an entire sentence: "Verbos es una palabra que espresa accion." I butchered it. They corrected me. One boy fought to keep his hands from molding my jaw into the proper

Sometimes all you need in life is to hear that someone else's face lit up at the mention of your name. It was a blissful moment today.

These moments today were so ridiculous that I cannot help but laugh at them. With the clerk at the feed store carrying my 33 pound bags of dog food: "I'm so sorry. There was no parking space up here when I got here, so I had to park all the way over there." "But there's a space right here." "Yes, but I thought it would be more fun for you to carry 60 pounds across the parking lot." I don't think he got it. **** With the clerk at Subway: "What bread do you want?" "I want a wrap." "We don't have wraps." "Um, is that just for today or for forever?" "We ran out today, and we don't have much bread. This is all we have." "Okay, so what kind of bread do you have?" "What kind do you want?" "Well, if that right there is all you have, then what difference does it make what I want?" "Oh, I guess that's true."

Here's a discussion I had today with some seventh-going-into-eighth graders getting ready to make strawberry shortcake. "When you get into your groups, assign a new role. You cannot be the same thing you were the last time. That means everyone needs a different job." "Miss, I was the reader last time, and they are making me be the reader again." "Well, you can't be the reader again. Mary, what is your job right now?" "I'm the mixer." "Okay, well Sarah was the reader last time. She cannot be the reader again." "But I'm the mixer." "Fine, but Sarah cannot be the reader again." "But I'm the mixer and Donna's the supply person. I was the supply person last time, and Donna was the mixer last time." "Okay, but Sarah was the reader last time, and she cannot be the reader again today." "I'm confused." "I don't care if you're confused or not. Go back and c

If you wrote your life's story, what pieces would you intentionally skip? I know you have them. I have several blank spaces, thank you. They are chunks of life that I'd often rather see slide away into the nether regions of the universe and out of memory. At least, I used to. I'm finding that I'm feeling more and more comfortable in my own skin of quirkiness and tragedy. After all, most of those blank spaces are filled with my embarrassing quirks or heart-wrenching tragedy. You see, I'd prefer that you not know my mother has a mental illness or that my heart was broken by the man who told me he loved me but wished I'd lose another 30 pounds or that I used to keep a set of children's encyclopedias in the bathroom for that special reading. Then there is the flip side. I realized today that I am a blank space. I think of all the people I've come in contact with in my life and the moments we've shared. In the long run, no matter how beautiful or life-cha

As I pulled into the McDonald's parking lot, my big, white SUV was suddenly face to face (or grill to grill) with a bigger, black truck. The driver of the truck immediately gave me the, "What do you think you're doing? Using a parking lot is like using an elevator: the person leaving goes first." look. I happen to agree with him. I always let people exit an elevator before I attempt to get on...unless the elevator has a giant sign that says, "DO NOT GET OFF THE ELEVATOR HERE" plastered to the door. It just so happens that McDonald's was kind enough to put a Do Not Enter sign just before the giant, yellow EXIT sign with an arrow directing you to circle the building. I was feeling rather helpful this morning (in a three year old kind of way), so I pointed at him, mouthed "You", pointed to the big yellow sign, pointed toward the building, and mouthed, "Exit." Then I drove by him while he stared at me open-mouthed. I hate it when the dire

Winnipeg, my Great Dane puppy, was outside yesterday running in the yard while I stood there growing more and more impatient with her. Puppies don't seem to understand that taking care of business isn't supposed to be a major activity. I think this dog needs to be on Ritalin because she apparently heard an ant drop a bread crumb in the neighbor's yard and stopped to debate if she needed to run over and offer her assistance. In the middle of said pondering, Winnie glanced over at me, slowly turned her head around as close as possible to her rear end, and started sniffing. She looked back over at me with that look...that "did you get a whiff of what just came out of there?" look. I assured her that I did not and was very happy that I did not because the look in that dog's eyes told me all I needed to know. Dog farts are most certainly dangerous forces that should be unleashed only on drivers who cut in line and people who don't flush public toilets.

There I was, sitting at a red light and inhaling the aroma of my Boston Market side item meal, when the silver Monte Carlo pulled up next to me. I always check out the cars that pull up to me at this light. He had the look in his eyes. He counted the cars in my lane (3) and the cars in his lane (2). He revved the engine a few times and shot me the, "Don't even think about it" look. He was a man on a mission—to be first at the point when the road goes from four lanes to two. This is a sore subject in my town. The merging point is like the Bermuda triangle for common sense driving. After all, the road has been like this for longer than the seven years I've been living here. It's not like it catches you by surprise. In fact, most people just stick to the left lane. Others see the left lane traffic and speed up along the right lane with their plans to cut in front of the polite drivers. That's what this guy was thinking. The light turned green, and we were off. T

I am really...really good at wasting time.

Last night, I shut down the computer and put away some work that I needed to do just because my body felt tired. I put a clay mask on my face, slathered on some organic lavender body lotion and painted my nails with my OPI Strawberry Margherita nail polish while watching some Seinfeld. It felt heavenly (and my nails look great). In my study on the life of Christ , I was impressed yesterday with just how much alone time Jesus spent. I've always known that he withdrew from the crowds and prayed, but I think it was more than that. Check out the other blog for more on that. I think the lesson here is to drop everything sometimes. It may require a surgical removal of the computer and television and telephone and all my mini-projects. I need this time, no matter how brief (last night's break was only 20 minutes) to renew myself.

My goals in life have little to do with the traditional American dream. You know the line from "Girl, Interrupted" when the principal says to Susanna that she has the distinction of being the only senior at the school not going on to college? That was me. It's difficult to have brains and social skills and try to justify why you have no desire to go to law school or at least get an MBA. It doesn't make sense in the minds of most Americans. All I've ever really wanted is a family and the ability to write. Ideally, I could earn a living from the writing because my fantasy involves writing in places such as Medieval cathedrals and Mexican beaches and sitting on top of the Appian Way. But the fantasy doesn't exactly match of the reality, and I'm drained by my life. I don't like having to search for inspiration. There's a piece of my soul that is suffocated by the stuff in my life. I mean literal stuff. Dresses I haven't worn in 10 years. Books I

Do you ever wonder what $390,000 can buy you? Apparently, it will get you a 10-year old 1300 square foot mobile home, detached 2 car garage, above ground pool, and a pole barn on 5 fenced acres. The neighborhood is a lovely patch of resurrected swamp land that will surely send you flocking to the beach in the summer just to get away from the mosquitoes. Do I sound jaded yet? Keep reading. I checked the tax records for this piece of property and discovered that the seller purchased the property recently for $78,000. It gets better. The just market value is $208,000. We all know this person got a deal when they bought this. Hooray for them! Do we ever learn? I'm all for capitalism and free trade, but when did free trade become synonymous with screwing other people? Don't get me wrong...go ahead and make as much money as you possibly can. But be fair. Be just. Be reasonable. (This is why I could never sell time shares or be a pharmaceutical rep.) It breaks my heart that we all see

Women pretty much fall into one of three categories: Dominating Women [...You are weak and untrustworthy. I am strong. Let me lead and things will go fine...], Desolate Women [...Her heart is shut down. She hides behind her prayers and her 'good works of service'...], or Arousing Women [...A strong and self-confident woman, she is also soft and inviting...]. (from "Captivating" by John & Stasi Eldredge) Who am I? Sometimes I'm not sure. For much of my life I've not been sure. I've covered the full spectrum and still haven't found a safe place to land. I can't help but wonder just where that safe place is. I've received too many mixed messages to figure it out. I'm intelligent...then someone felt stupid because I used a *big* word or rambled on about the cosmic theory of the Black Death. I'm beautiful...then someone pointed out the width of my nose and my crooked smile and my round heart-shaped face. I'm passionate...then someone

Here's a little bliss in my world today: I made bacon this morning. You won't find Giada raving about my culinary creation of white bread, American cheese, bacon, and butter. Move over Philadelphia cream cheese; this is heavenly. I took a lovely bath last night and shaved my legs, used a diffuser to dry my hair into soft curls, and put on a fun satin night gown. I'm still in it and have no plans to change at this point. (This is my tiara substitution.) I have several poems and stories working away in my head. I'm resting this morning in the knowledge that this is just the way I write them. When they are ready to be birthed, they will let me know. All the laundry in the house is completely done. That means washed, folded, and put away. I feel good this morning. Industrious. Beautiful. Extraordinary.

Here's my little confession for the week: I LOVE techno music. I could so live in Germany just for the music. I'm addicted to the way the music's pulse reverberates through my own veins. It's an abstract art form springing to life within my own body. It's also super-easy to dance to. All you have to do is stand there, close your eyes, and feel the pulse. Any left-footed white girl can find a groove. Really, it doesn't matter what you do. Everyone on the dance floor does their own thing. Cathartic dance is liberating. Last night, I was soaking up the strobe lights and floating disco stars on a revolving dance floor. It's been a while since I've danced to techno music, and I was really savoring the sweet release of the moment. It was life in one of it's purest forms right there. Lives collided with the humanities all at once. I love being willing to risk looking like a fool to enjoy my life, and I've always admired other people who can also do it.

"Please enter the number that corresponds to the third letter on your citation." 7 (The letter is Q.) "For 'P', press 1. For 'R', press 2. For 'S', press 3." The letter is Q. I'm sorry. I did not hear your response. Please enter the number that corresponds to the third letter on your citation. For 'P', press 1. For 'R', press 2. For 'S', press 3. The letter is Q. I'm sorry. I still did not hear your response. Please enter the number that corresponds to the third letter on your citation. For 'P', press 1. For 'R', press 2. For 'S', press 3. The letter is Q! "I'm sorry. I did not hear your response. You will not be charged for this call. Good-bye."

I found the xanax last night. :)

MY DE-STRESS LIST * de-stress...what is causing my stress * get rid of the clutter in house (index card for each room) * 10 min. each day working on clutter * do yoga or take bath at night for 20 min. *-------------------------------- * exercise 30 min. each day * xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx * 10 min. each day to go over list * 20 min. each day to do something around the house * figure out what the heck is going on this summer

A "need" is not an option, it is something you must have to function fully. It is differentiated from a "want" in that a want is optional. Someone may need to drill a hole in my head and attempt to stuff this concept inside. I got back a little while ago after spending 3 1/2 hours at the emergency room. Almost 3 weeks ago, I found myself getting incredibly exhausted during the day. It was so bad at one point that I actually almost fell asleep on a roller coaster. I'm not kidding. I chalked it up to the end of the school year chaos and thought it would be gone by now. Instead, in the last week, I've been sleeping close t0 16 hours a day and walking in a fog very much like the aura you get before a migraine. The urgent care doctor sent me immediately to the ER for stroke and MS tests. (For the record, one of these is one of my greatest fears.) I had a slew of blood tests, x-rays, and a cat scan done...all to the amusement of the triage nurse. After all of this