In the Fog

Early morning, hazy light
Every day, he walks the dog.
Sees me watching, gives a nod.
Knows how much we both
enjoy the fog.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Well--Known Proverbs... Well, it Depends on Who's Saying Them.

Whenever we study Proverbs, I give my seventh and eighth graders common proverbs to complete. If they don't know the proverb, they try to guess at the answers. Then we discuss them. This gives me lots of fun, and helps them learn at the same time. Here are some samples of their answers. Some of them show a lot of good thinking, even if it changes the original idea. (If you can't remember the original proverb, look at the bottom of the page.)

1. You can't make a silk purse....

...without a worm

2. A little learning...

...goes a long way

...a lot of earning

(I think both of these are overly optimistic about the
job market.)

3. Don't cross the bridge

...until they build it (smart)

...until the trolls are gone (smarter)

...until you know what lies beyond it (smartest)

4. It takes one...

to make a difference
(He should be a motivational speaker, I think)

5. Don't throw the baby...

if you can't catch it. (Very scary...)

6. Don't make a mountain...

if you can't climb it. (Sounds like a good plan)

7. Don't cut off your nose...

if you want to breathe (Technically....well, we didn't go there.)

8. Don't count your chickens...

until you kill the fox. (Now this one really makes sense.)

9. Two's Company; Three's ...

... a gaggle, ( but that's geese... so would it be a giggle of girls?)
... a crunch,
... a party,
... business (I like this one)

10. A Bird in the hand is ...

....a lovely feeling. (someone is a bird lover...or a fried chicken eater)


The Real Answers
1. out of a sow's ear 2. is a dangerous thing 3. until you come to it 4. to know one 5. out with the bathwater 6. out of a molehill 7. to spite your face 8. until they hatch 9. three's a crowd 10. is worth two in the bush

Death of a Computer

I came home to find a dead computer, and all my frantic attempts at resuscitation were in vain. Nobody admitted to seeing the actual demise of the PC, so it must have quietly expired while I was at work and Turtle and Claye were gallivanting around the countryside.

Not that there hadn't been signs, mind you. For two weeks now, something has been nibbling away at the computer innards. We first noticed it when Turtle exploded: "Hey! Where's Free Cell? It's not on here! Of all the stupid..." And though we tried to calm him, it only resulted in muttered threats of how we'd like it if someone deleted Puzzle Pirates, or worse yet--Facebook!
Nobody was deleting anything...and yet the fact remained. Not only Free Cell, but Spider Solitaire and all the standard games that stock the basic set-up were gone.

The next noticeable glitch came three days later: I did a print screen and tried to save it in paint. No Paint. Where was paint? How can there be a windows without paint? And yet...it was gone...spilled messily throughout the modem, no doubt, and dumped osmotically into that vast chasm called the "void of lost foreverness" where it joined, very probably, a malicious hoard of run-away homework assignments and painstakingly filled out income tax forms.

This was a ravenous bug indeed.

So today, when I walked into the house and saw a black screen instead of my computer generated screen-saver aquarium fish, I panicked. However, after only a moment in this hysterical state, I regained control and promptly began CPR--computer procedures for resuscitation. I restarted the system five or six times, plugged and unplugged all the cords, struck all the magic F keys, and hurled insults at the stubborn monitor, but one cold truth remained written indelibly on the screen after every feeble attempt at re-bootation: the virus had finally swallowed a vital organ--something nameless and only referred to as number 32. tum-tum-tum.

Well, it looked like I'd stumbled onto a hopeless situation, but I wasn't giving up yet...I had a shock disc--a re-installation CD--ha ha! I pulled out the paddles and said: "Stand Back!"

No biggie. It only took three hours to reformat and reload.

So here I am on my new computer; the sound isn't working yet, but I have e-mail, facebook, and picture it again. Interestingly enough I also have all those little games that come with the computer--Turtle will be happy to find free cell...and...I didn't lose any documents or pictures; they were all safe on my external hard drive. (As you can tell, this has happened before with more tragic results.) Life is grand in computer land.

A Book Young Children Will Love

Here's a book that children absolutely love. It's all about manners. Yes, that wasn't a typo. Manners. It's called, "Do I Have to Say Hello?


Years ago, my own children received it as a gift from their own "Aunt Delia". They enjoyed it. I packed it away, and now the grand kids have discovered it. The format consists mainly of multiple choice questions dealing with correct behavior and polite responses in various situations. The wrong answers are so inappropriate that everyone cracks up, but the lesson is taken, nonetheless. As an added bonus, the drawings are ludicrous and particularly amusing to elementary children.
I recommend that every adult read it aloud to a child. They both might learn something and it's great to laugh together.

Storms, Shadows, and Sunshine

Yesterday afternoon it rained...poured is more like it...Standing on my porch, I felt like I had been trapped behind a waterfall in a secret, dark cavern. It was wonderful. When the light broke through and the drips diminished, everything was colored a dull yellow gold. I stepped outside to see this rainbow stretching across the heavens. If you look closely, you will see another arc behind it...a shadow, if you will of the rainbow.

Am I All Grown Up?

So the Sunday Scribblings topic today is "Adult". When are you an adult?

Well, that's a relevant topic for me. I just sent my son off to his first, full-time job, teaching music to elementary children, and when he comes home he regales us with tales of his tactics. (This week he serenaded his students with O Sole Mio on the accordion) My second daughter is doing interviews for work and considering possibilities far removed from here, making pottery or working in a museum, and my oldest is enjoying a little quiet at home, working on that novel, now that the grandkids are in morning pre-school and kindergarten. Yes. They are all quite grown up.

Yet, as they were visiting today, laughing and lounging around the house, enjoying the children and the general bustle of life, even playing Mancala, it didn't seem like I was sitting in a room full of stodgy, old adults. We were all just kids. Occasionally though we had to grow up: Carina tending little ones; me, cooking, washing, picking up after; Turtle putting finishing touches on his sermon, and on the edges of the front lawn; Elijah and his visiting girlfriend cleaning out the car for a trip to the fair, where he has a music gig; and Claye sorting clothes and cataloging paints. Now that they are all gone for a few hours I should really be acting more mature. There are dishes on the counter; the floor needs mopping, and the carpet could stand a vacuuming, but I'm blogging--because being an adult can be tedious.

Oh I know it means freedom--making all the decisions for yourself: what time to go to sleep or get up; what groceries to buy at the store, and which of those to eat and which to let rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator; what kind of clothes to wear; what kind of people to befriend; which church to attend. It's heady and thrilling. But that's not all.

Being an adult means doing things that need doing--before someone asks you to do them. It means taking the blame for your own mistakes instead of blaming everyone around or every circumstance. It means looking at the consequences and plodding along--working, working, even when it's not fun. That's not something you just grow into. It's more like a mantle that gets thrown onto your shoulders. Sometimes you wear it like a royal robe; sometimes you spread it on the floor, get down on your knees and play Mancala with the grand children.

So I wonder sometimes...am I all grown up yet?

Little Boys Need Their Dads

I don't really have to say much about this one, do I?
Do you have a son? Why don't you go talk to him?

Wordless Wednesday

Somebody is Four Years Old

Happy Birthday, Mimsy Lou!
I should have made you a princess cake to go with your new purple phone, but here's the cold, hard, facts: Grandma is not much of a cook. You were lucky to get a chocolate cake that looked like a plowed prairie rather than a dank swamp or a bulging mountain range. Thanks for being delighted anyway. Someday you'll turn persnickety about what you want and just how you want it to look. Right now I'm enjoying the innocence.

Love you, Dear.

Grandma Lilibeth

Back to School Picnic

I know, I know, that's supposed to be "end of school" but we actually have two of these at our school. The Student Council plans these things as a time when the students can be together and talk. This first one is good for meeting new friends and re-connecting and actually seeing all the old friends you only communicated with on facebook and through texting all summer long. The last one is for saying goodbye for the summer.




Yesterday, the high was ninety five degrees, but there was plenty of shade and some breeze to boot. The park had assured our STUCO that they were open from 10:00 until 8:00 every day until Labor Day. Everybody was ready to play on the water slide, go miniature golfing, ride the paddle boats and other rides, drive go carts, and just do cool activities all day. Unfortunately, the amusement employees had decided to take the morning off since their numbers had dwindled over the last two days. They didn't show up until 1:00. (And then it was only the water slide) Since we were scheduled to leave at 1:30, that left precious little time for getting cool before the hot bus ride home. About half of the kids jumped in there anyway. (Mostly the younger ones who were riding the old yellow bus). I dangled my feet in the water...if that counts. My face was red and puffy from the sun and the heat, and I'm sure I looked like I'd spent all day on a desert island without an umbrella or coconut palm.

Still, I didn't hear much complaining. The students participated in a scavenger hunt, then walked around in little groups or sat and talked in the shade. They were self-controlled, not blaming Moses for leading them to the wilderness. I was proud of them.

A Foreign Exchange

Flora visited us at school today, all the way from Hong Kong...and that's amazing.

She looks beautiful, ten years older and all so very grown-up. I remember when she lived with us that year. Counting our ninth-grader, our tenth-grader, and our foster child senior, Turtle and I had four teen-agers in a little house with one bathroom. Life was hectic and hassled, but, looking back, I'm glad I lived it that way. A foreign exchange student brings something to your family that you can't really duplicate by chatting online. They live with you and really share your life, be it crowded or lonely. They learn your idioms and idiosyncrasies--and thus make you more aware of them. They are brave souls in a strange world. . . so very different and so very alike and both are equally surprising.

One night Flora made Chinese food. We ate it at nine-thirty, due to things just taking longer in America, but it tasted wonderful. She loved school, especially math. Every evening, she did calculus homework at the kitchen table while I cooked supper. I'd like to say I helped her, but that would be a total lie. I didn't understand the numbers anymore than I understood the Cantonese she spoke on the phone late at night to her family. Elijah played bratty "little brother". One day we found "Flora is a wiener" poems posted all over the house. Of course, it became a running gag. The girls were into wild fingernail polish and talking about boys; he was into nunchucks and football and playing the piano as if it were the opposing team being pummeled up and down the line of scrimmage. We banned television until weekends, cut off the internet so they would sleep at night, and never had a moment of quiet in the house. They played games, gossiped, and argued over deep philosophical issues. I heard a door slam occasionally, but I also heard a lot of laughter.

Flora, you were good for us.
Now you've brought a friend to school...all the way from Hong Kong. Does he play mah jong? do calculus? like poetry? Will we love him like we learned to love you? I think so.

Warning: Cute Videos of Grandchildren

What I wonder is: How's his kindergarten teacher going to handle him this year?

Here's a conversation between Zaya, who is five, and Mim, who will turn four this month.

The Last Lazy Days of Summer

Art and Carina are taking two days of real vacation at the lake. I'm keeping the kiddos. They are industrious and leave little time for computer blogging...right now, however, Mim is watching a veggie tale movie and Zaya is playing on the wii--Super Paper Mario.

Yesterday, we set up the shark pool.....It was great for exercise, most of which consisted of running back and forth to turn the water hose/sprinkler up or down. Here, Zaya is holding his hand over the sprinkler part, getting ready to release the spray all over Mim.

After that, they rested on the warm porch chair. Zaya was all worn out from pretending to be a sea sponge and eating marine snow and from being a sea slug, which "doesn't leave a slime trail like other slugs." He was also--very briefly--a dung beetle, rolling its ball of dung ahead of him while he crawled on the grass. Not long after this I found him asleep in his sleeping bag in the guest room. He was probably pretending to be a mole.














Mim doesn't nap. She spent this time turning my living room into a block city and putting stickers into a Victorian Dollhouse Book. Of course this had to be a joint effort, as the stickers were amazingly detailed. I detached the stickers while she looked at the model picture and told me which room they fit. Turtle even got involved in this while I was busy. He was able to finish the attic stickers. Then it was on to drawing on the light board and getting out the little china for a tea party. I looked at the floor and told Mim she was a little messer. She told me I was a messer too, so we got into an argument over who was the biggest messer. It's still going on this morning.

Zaya slept on until Clay and I had to wake him for our exercise at the gym. I thought both children would get bored quickly there, but they entered into the program with glee, exercising on every machine that was small enough for them, jumping on the mini trampoline, and rejoicing in the fact that they were really "getting in shape."

It rained in the afternoon. Zaya stood and watched it from the window. He assured me that the rain was coming from nimbostratus clouds. I asked him how he knew and he told me that the rain was misty and there wasn't any lightening or thunder so I shouldn't worry.

They were both up this morning at seven, because I had put them to bed at 8:30. (They didn't exactly go to sleep at 8:30, but I'm not saying how long it took because Carina just might read this.) Zaya told me he saw a crack of light coming in his window so he was able to use his sense of sight to know it was morning. Mim used her sense of hearing; grandpa's obnoxiously loud cell phone alarm works anywhere in the house.

Anyway, we made cinnamon rolls for breakfast. I tried eggs first, but they only ate the white...with a little salt. Cinnamon rolls are more fun anyway. I cautioned Zaya to stay away from the hot stove, and he told me: "if I were Lava Spikit the heat wouldn't hurt me. I would just harness its energy and use it for power." I told him that he was not lava Spikit right now so he should still move away from the stove. He did; they are both very obedient.


When the cinnamon rolls came out of the oven, Zaya remarked: "Wow! they sure have changed a lot." Mim immediately instructed him that it was "irreversable change" and he would not be able to change them back. "I know," he said, and popped one into his mouth.

Well, Mim is bored with the video now and Zaya's batteries have run out so this calls for me to finish in a hurry. After this, I may need a vacation at the lake myself.

Where's Waldo?

We took a trip for a church conference and spent four days in Kansas City.
Every day, at least once, we traveled across the Missouri River or across Stateline street and spent some time in Missouri, but at night, we stayed at a hotel in Kansas. The first part of the convention was for pastors and their families.



It was good...inspiring and well planned, classes in the morning and free afternoons, so that the pastors could use part of the convention for a family vacation. My only complaint is that I over-ate...the food was too good and they fed us too frequently. My lack of self-control, however, can't be blamed on the convention.

Here are some pictures of interesting places we visited. The most fascinating was the riverboat Arabia, excavated and brought up from the Missouri in 1988. It was crammed with supplies for households up river--dishes, clothes, tools, buttons, beads, perfumes. They have a web site that shows much more than I did.

One day we accompanied a group to a wild ride/theme park. We didn't do the wild rides--my stomach likes to stay attached and upright, thank you--but we got in a good walk, had our cartoon picture made, and rode the river ride on a pleasant, cool day.









The second part of the convention was broader and geared for the entire church...well, really geared for the younger set of the entire church. We discussed church plants and trends, some of which are depressing...and I did so much want to be encouraged. Oh well. We visited the center of town, where two young couples are involved in founding a church among the yuppies who are moving back to the inner city and reclaiming it. There are 20,000 people in their field, and very few churches. That district of the city is called Waldo, so the theme of the convention was: "Where's Waldo"?

So Where Did all This Stuff Come From?

Do elementary school teachers ever throw anything away? My guess is "no".

Today I went with Elijah to see his new classroom. He wanted to set up an instrument area for all kinds of instruments to show his elementary music students, so we took a trunk full of them. We also took a chess board and a box full of music books. We thought we'd whiz in there, settle the instruments and books into the closets, meet a few people, eat lunch, and come back home. Well we thought...

The room was spacious and fairly new. It had one window with a great view out over the empty prairie. It also had a file cabinet, a wall of new, short cabinets, a built-in coat closet, dilapidated metal closet, five tables, 16 chairs, a piano, with a crooked leg and two little white statues on top (Beethoven and Haydn, I think) a teacher's desk and three old, brown, broken-down desk chairs on wheels. Every shelf of every closet...every drawer of the file cabinet...the tops of the closets and cabinets--they were all full.

There was bulletin board stuff, music and more music, construction paper, poster board, old tapes, cd's, dvd's, and even records. The biggest headache, though, occupied the only real closet in the room...you know, the lockable one where the teacher is supposed to hang his coat and store his lunch? It was popping out and running over with costumes for musicals--pirate stuff, stacked sets of hats--all kinds, swords, glitter wands and feather masks, Groucho Marx glasses, pilgrim outfits, angel wings, nutcrackers, wigs, boots, and jester bells. We didn't know where to begin, because there was no place for any of the stuff he had brought.

Before we despaired completely, however, another teacher came to his rescue and showed us a storage room where the teachers keep all their leftover junk. We moved a few labeled boxes in there and grabbed more furniture. (She said anything that didn't have a name and 'keep your hands off sign' on it was free to whatever teacher saw it first.) No, we didn't find anything so grand as a book case, but we found a sturdy upright cabinet with doors and a partially empty file cabinet. We moved all the costume stuff into the old upright metal cabinet and were able to find room for Elijah's stuff in the real closet. We relocated the books and teaching supplies he thought he would use--and there were many of those--into the new cabinet. We sorted stuff into the drawers of the empty file cabinet--games, baskets, tapes, cds, mementos of choir contests and programs. Then we carried some of the tables and the three dilapidated chairs back to the store room. He brought a black computer chair from his apartment; it looks much more manly.

Elijah has great ideas about teaching and setting up a stage area for the instruments. I think it's going to be a good room after all...if someone will just help him make some bulletin boards...

We Sang Far Too Late Into the Night

I'm a morning person.
Usually, I'm awake at 5:30 and have to make myself stay in bed until six. . . even in the summer.
Well, lately, I've been getting to bed later and later. Does that make me sleep longer?
Unfortunately, it doesn't. It could be that the early morning coffee calls to me. I don't know. Morning people are like that. They just wake up.

My oldest sister and her husband are here visiting from North Carolina. That's too far away. We only see them about every three years, so of course we have to visit non-stop while they are here. The kids and grandkids were over yesterday evening for the arrival of these far-flung relatives, and Zaya and Mim had a great time playing with the "weasel" their great aunt and great uncle had brought for them. They even posed for pictures. Then we went for a short evening stroll, and last night, my sister brought out some beautiful songs she had written so Elijah could help her with the computer transcription.

We sang...far too late into the night.

Still...I'm up.

Sooner or later I'm going to have to take a nap.

CLEP Tests

A lot of college students don't know about CLEP tests, or they are highly suspicious of them and fear that they will fail, or that they won't count, or many such things.
Well, here's my advice: Take all the CLEP tests you can take. If the school allows 30 hours...take 30 hours.

Yes, they cost money. But they only cost one fourth the money it would take you to actually take the class.

Yes, they take a few hours of study; But taking the class--the homework, the notes, the tests--that takes a lot longer.

No, you don't get a grade for them. It's just pass/fail. But if you pass by the skin of your teeth, who will know it? You don't have to take the class. You still get the credit. It's great.

There is a large book, put out by the CLEP test people, which has reviews for all the tests. My advice is that you take the sample test, grade it, and see how you do. If you pass easily, you will pass the real test. If you are close, I recommend subscribing to this website. InstantCert.
This site has an easy system of flashcard study that fully prepares you for tests in almost every one of the subjects.

It costs 20 dollars a month, so don't subscribe until you are ready to study, and be sure you unsubscribe after you pass all the tests you had time for. I've been subscribing every summer for the last five years so Elijah could study for the CLEP tests he needed to take that semester. Today...tada! Elijah passed his last one...a calculus test. He now has 173 hours on his transcript; 33 of those are CLEP. He never had to take a test twice. It ended up costing around 650 dollars for the tests. The equivalent in tuition for classes would have cost $4,110 plus all the textbooks. Besides, it may have taken another semester of school to meet all those requirements.

In a week, when summer session is over, Elijah will be able to pick up his diploma, apply for his teaching certificate, and begin his new job--teaching 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders vocal music.
Ah. His parents sigh.

Road Trip

So we went to Texas to see my parents and a couple of my siblings as well. I took my daughter along and her two joyful offspring. We made quite a day of it.

On the way there, I took a picture of this little farm shed beside the road. I've long admired it, but had not taken the time to ask for its autograph. This time, I took the exit from the interstate that would allow me to park on the feeder road right beside it. You have to admit it is an intriguing way to paint a house.


That afternoon, we visited the park downtown. Mim and Zaya call it Castle Park...and they insist upon seeing it every time we travel in that direction. I'm sure you can tell why. All it needs are weapons, cloth flags flapping, and the smell of large sides of beef roasting in the open courtyard...well maybe a jester or two.



And of course we had to go see the garden. "Great Grandpa/Grandpa/Dad" showed us row upon row of melons, turnips, okra, corn, radishes, lettuce, and a very alien-looking plant called col-rabi. We tasted it later and decided that the texture was like a raw turnip, but the taste was milder...more like a jicama. With a little lime juice it was tasty. We drove around the pasture and looked at two new, black, baby calves.



Back at home that evening, Mim used a large sycamore leaf to make a "gravel taco" in our driveway. She offered it to me for supper, but I was still too stuffed from eating all the wonderful food at Mom's house.

It was a good day...a great day.

Summer's Almost Over

So before that day arrives--the day when you have to get back into the routine and pick up the heavy textbooks...or lesson plan books (which can be heavy too)...I suggest you go to the lake. Pick a day when not too many people are around...and that's easy to do now that a lot of summer is over. Find a little lake. Sit and look at the water. Splash. Row a boat. Watch the ducks. Fish.



Or, you can do like I did and take a few pictures before sauntering back to the welcome air-conditioning of the cabin.

Perseverance

Now what is that?
Over there by the hand-painted handicapped sign?
It's a weed, I think, growing in a crack.
How dare it?
How could it?
The last two weeks have been 'death to all plants'.
Grass is giving up the fight and browning in great waves.
Plants I coddle and cool with sprinklers are pouting--wilting in surrender.
Yet this little weed is growing in an asphalt crack.
On the parking lot.
All day.
In the sun.
So. . . well. . .
I carried him a cup of water.
Don't tell.

Why Moms Worry

Our mortal children--especially when they gain their independence and begin to look with pity on their aging, fearful, superstitious parents--like Icarus, fly much too near the sun. The agony lies in seeing where they are flying, begging them to stop and think, and being humored with affectionate banter but no changing of direction.

This was brought home to me very vividly this week when my cousin went through what no parent should ever have to face...waiting up until 1:30 for a daughter who had gone out with some friends, promising to be home early; getting an unresponsive phone; finally calling the trauma center and being told accident victims were there; finding their daughter badly wounded, bleeding, in pain...but at least alive; and then learning what had happened.

She hadn't known the driver before that night. From the back seat of the vehicle she begged him to slow down, but he sped to 75 miles an hour on an isolated dirt road, then hit an embankment. The police report shows that the car was airborne for 60 feet then turned end over end six times before it came to rest. The driver was injured badly. She was conscious but in a lot of pain. Fortunately, the third rider was ejected and uninjured. He called 911, but it took the authorities a long time to find the accident site. They finally were able to trace the cell phone call. The injured young lady, Ren, tried to call home, but her phone died. As she was being transported by helicopter, and in the trauma center, she asked people to get in touch with her parents and her twin sister, who would be worried. Nobody did. They had to come find her--on a table, broken and bleeding.

So there they all sit in the trauma unit. Broken jaw, missing teeth, injured face, torn spleen, broken vertebra, broken ribs, swollen body, lots of pain. Dad can't fix it this time. Mom can't smile and kiss it away. And all the loving in the world can't bring back that innocent little "aw, don't worry, Mom, I'll be ok" attitude she walked out of the house with.

The hardest lessons are those that cost.
That's why moms worry.

13 Itching Solutions for Poison Ivy

I've been conducting an experiment over the last two weeks...well, out of sheer frustration and necessity.

Let's just suppose that you are itching...badly...with poison ivy around your neck like some great, glowing, growing Egyptian collar, and let's suppose that you were also wearing it like greaves on your shins and like bangles and polka-dots up your arms. In that case, the itching would drive you to this same experiment. Here's what I found:

1. Scratching. This relieves the itching for a few minutes, but makes ugly scars all over your body and causes infections to begin in the middle of the rash areas. (not recommended)

2. Cortisone cream (prescribed by the doctor for the initial outbreak on the shin) This works for about five minutes. Then everything starts itching again, only worse. (A lovely little side effect of this cream is that it thickens the skin it sooths, so I now have a scar-thick buffer on my right shin...the better for playing soccer, I guess.)

3. Ice packs (prescribed by the doctor for the ivy necklace) This works as long as you are keeping it cold and holding it on the neck...i.e. in bed. It looks rather silly to wear to social events...like weddings.

4. Adhesive tape (suggested by the receptionist at the doctor's office.) I didn't try it because I would have looked like a chicken or a mummy, depending on how the tape was anchored. Besides, I was afraid that infection under the tape would not be a good thing.

5. Baby powder. This helps for a few minutes. I keep it by my bed for during the night agony. It has the added advantage of smelling good and not being greasy.

6. Sea salt mixed with baby oil. This stings badly, but that feels better than the itch. It works for a few hours and dries out the initial blisters but doesn't heal anything.

7. Dermoplast in a spray bottle. I applied this at the zoo and the science museum. All that day, it kept my neck from itching as long as I sprayed it on every couple of hours. However all the funny looks I got in the restroom as I kept anointing myself required a lot of explanations, and the blouse I was wearing is probably ruined from the greasy spray. When I got home, my neck was not only itching like crazy, but it looked like it had suffered a second degree burn. I tried it again, and it didn't help. Maybe it only helped because I was having my mind distracted by the great outing with my Grandchildren.

8. Benadryl gel. This helps until it evaporates.

9. Benadryl tablet. This helps because it knocks you out and you sleep all day and all night. (not recommended for anyone who has anything to do.) Unfortunately, you still wake up between hour-long snoozes...and the itching is still there!

10. Zanfel--this is an expensive over-the counter cream. It stopped the itching for about six hours. I've reapplied it twice, and, according to all I've read, may have to keep it up for several days because mine was a systemic reaction. Next time I get poison ivy, I plan to try this first and not have to spend the money for doctor visits.

11. Prednisone shot and pills. This doesn't relieve any itching for at least a day, but it does help over-all. Eventually, it soothes the reaction. However, it has the nasty side-effect of making you gain weight...great--new fat for the poison ivy to spread to!

12. Aloe and oatmeal poultice--this one was recommended to me but I haven't actually tried it. (mainly because I'm doing better now, but if I revert to the acute stage, you can bet I'm going to go buy some)

13. Baby oil--this doesn't work for the poison ivy itch, but it sure helps the dry skin itch that comes with the healing process.

And with all that said...I think it's time for another shower and treatment with Zanfel. I'm about to start clawing.

Oklahoma Science Museum

Well, it was quite a wonderful day for the kids, and even pleasant for Carina and I.
We were determined to visit the zoo for a little while, at least, because we had free tickets from donating blood and you just can't let something like that pass, can you? So we met my sister, brother-in-law, and niece for a pleasant little stroll in the aquarium and around by the meerkats and young lions. We were able to tolerate the heat, with the help of the zoo sprinklers, until an early lunch. Then we parted ways and headed with the grandchildren over to the science museum, where they could have stayed until midnight.

The Science Museum is a child's dream world, with so much for young explorers to do. They almost immediately get into the spirit of adventure: building chutes; cutting paper cups and seeing which ones fly to the top; yelling into echo tubes and close to a sound-sensitive light-up tree; exploring giant teeth, tide pools, mirror mazes and earthquake platforms; building with blocks; and playing with magnetic sand. A large toy train exhibit runs continually, and nearby sits a real, beautifully restored Pullman train car. Of course there are all kinds of scientific experiments--some easy to explain to a five year old, others not so easy. The grandkids ran from one area to another--stopping shadows, setting off hot air balloon replicas, sending toys up rope pulley buckets in a giant tree house. We could hardly keep up with them. Finally, at three, we headed for home.
The were asleep before we had traveled the five minutes to McDonalds.
As we neared home the temperature rose higher and higher...reaching 112 degrees by the time we arrived...not really a day for playing out of doors. Look at these faces though. See.
It was worth the trip.