Panamanian Mola

Step Back in Time

Today my seventh hour class--all seventh and eighth grade girls--went for a walk. Well, it was just that kind of day. They were supposed to have a verse test over Psalm 91, but they all had finished it a week early, and I couldn't let them get ahead of the other classes, could I?

Anyway we meandered, and skipped, and floated, and walked backwards through our little town, not regarding the traffic--what little there was of it. On main street, the antique store with its old pickup parked in front, made it seem like we were walking into the past. A warm south wind refreshed us, blowing our hair straight back from our faces; it was heavy with rain whispers and billowing gusts. We soaked it in. After about six blocks, we came to the nursing home and retirement village where half the town is employed. Slipping through the back door to the kitchen pantry, we were treated to ice cream in a cup, thanks to a kindly parent.

On the way back to school, the girls asked if I would kidnap them and bring them home to live with me. "Nope," I answered, "You would all be fighting over the wii, not to mention the guest bed and the computer" Although, if the truth be told, I do have enough couches and blow up mattresses for them all. Instead, I promised to treat them to a cola party. They really did deserve special treatment, because today, when I finished grading their quarter test, I was excited to see that they had ALL had made A's. That's a rare feat for this particular test, which, I assure you, was not an easy one.

Girls, I'm proud of you

Spring Heat Wave

It's 87 degrees out there today. Here are a couple of pictures I took of a little tree that grows by our garage door--bravely blooming in spite of the confusion about the weather.
























Then, of course, I had to play around with the pictures on my picture program and add some of the artistic talent that I don't have in real life.

Old Stuff

Imagine my shock last Saturday when Elijah came into the house in a state of euphoria, carrying what had to be the most common, unimpressive, "no-frills" record player I've ever seen--in fact it looked just one step plainer than the player we used for our Shakespeare records in English class aeons ago--when casette tapes were cutting-edge, high-tech inventions, and eight track players installed in a guy's van made him indisputably "cool".

He proceeded to upload his treasure onto the kitchen bar and extract an armload of old dusty records from a ragged and exhausted paper bag. They were mostly classical selections, but there were some popular fifties tunes as well. We were in for a treat--wow--the thing plays music!

Hmmm. I remembered hours of listening to the Exodus soundtrack, Montovani, Hall of the Mountain King, and even to our own family record--one my sisters and I had recorded in what, I'm sure, was an absurdly inadequate time session one evening years and years ago. It was a strange, nostalgic feeling, like a breeze blowing through the house. Still, this wonderful item didn't strike me as a "great find". How could something like that possibly be an antique? It's recent history to me...so I went off by myself and read a book.

Lost and Found

I hide
Behind the flowery couch
Not because of the quiet dark
But because I'm hoping you find me
And we can rejoice
Together