School Daze

It's been a really tough day today.
First hour, right after we said the pledge of allegiance and had the scripture and prayer for the day, we received word that our teacher who runs the route from the North, in a Suburban, had been hit head on by a small car that veered suddenly into her lane. They were probably both going about the speed limit, which was sixty-five miles an hour. The other driver was killed, the teacher was pinned in the car, two of the students who ride with her were ejected from the car and were stretched out in the ditch beside the road. We called the students into the chapel and told them what had happened. They divided into small groups and started praying. The teacher's husband--who teaches and coaches at the school--left for the scene; the superintendent and principal left also. We didn't know who the other driver was. Every student was imagining that it was his or her parent or sister. Things were really tense for the rest of the day. We got updates frequently over the intercom. The teacher and both boys were eventually medi-flighted to the trauma center in Oklahoma City. Almost immediately people began to arrive there, including some of our former students who live in the city. They kept texting the students here, and the phone kept ringing.
After school we had concession stands for the last home volleyball game of the season. Everybody was subdued and stood around catching up on the latest. I had four mothers to help and all the juniors, but we kept spilling things and forgetting why we had run downstairs to the kitchen. We were...pretty shaken up.
At this moment I don't know if anybody is out of surgery yet.
I'm sitting by the phone.
In a school like ours, only 88 students, and eleven teachers, we are all pretty close.
I've taught with this teacher for the last ten years; she's my friend; I taught her children; she taught mine.
Life is fragile.
Still, it could have been much worse. Two of the students who normally ride that route did not ride today; one was sick; one forgot her notebook and had to go back home. Lots of parents just came up to school and hugged their kids.
Yes, I called mine too.

One Last Cameo--with long blue lashes

Here's one last picture from last week--blue and white day. This is one of my amazing seniors. Honestly, those blue lashes had to be at least an inch long. I filmed her while everyone was quietly taking a test in the background and she batted the lashes for the camera...and hence...for the world at large.

Update on the Schnetka Saga

Now that my video camera is fixed, I've posted a picture of seven warm schnetka,
moments before their consumption by my hungry little car poolers. And here is the link to the recipe.

Cool Football Evenings Under the Stars

I'm not a huge football fan. Well ok, I'm not a football fan at all. There was a time, however, when my son played football. I attended most of his home games, and spent most of my time in the concession stand, peeking out every now and then to see the score, or sitting up on the hill that overlooks the football field, shivering under my school blanket and cringing every time someone got hit, straining to see the bottom of the pile and hoping that my son's white football number wasn't crushed into the mud. Somehow he survived all five years without an injury, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the game was over.

At least once or twice a year, however, I make the effort to attend a game. Last Friday, at homecoming, my daughter was asked to assist the pep band with playing drums. I stayed over at school and supervised a handful of junior-high boys as they played computer games in the library. At seven o'clock, we all headed out to the field.

The sun was just setting behind the big hill, as we walked through the gate and smelled the burgers grilling. The evening was cool, but not cold; the team we played was mercifully easy, and there were happy shouts of camaraderie everywhere. All the younger children ran about on the sidelines...involved in little games of their own making, mostly footballesque ones. Every now and then, whenever our team scored a touchdown, we were treated to the raucous blaring of a boastful, obnoxious-sounding semi-truck horn. (Thanks to the foresight of one of our equally strident fans)I walked around saying hi to people, and catching up on what their lives were like now. When Turtle arrived, at halftime, the game was really over already. We sat up on the hill by our grandchildren and our son-in-law. Zaya was enjoying the contents of a Pixi stick and Mim was just smiling in great glee.

Ah football.

September Days

I know I haven't posted for a while.
Here come the excuses:

I was being busy like crazy from five thirty in the morning until around six at night.
I started exercising again and walking on the treadmill.
I read a good book by Ted Dekker called Blink
I started a not so good book that looks better than it is because the cover has three "bullet" holes in it, and since I love detective books it screamed that it was intriguing. Anyway, I have to finish it and make an AR test for it now.
September days are almost perfect in this part of the world; I've actually gone walking--twice this week--with Turtle. We took pictures of the clock tower that's been cleaned and is sitting on the courthouse lawn ready for re-installation.
My video camera became corrupt and I spent a couple of weeks getting in touch with the right company to fix it. Finally I had to reformat it and lost pictures of Mim's third birthday.

There are all the excuses. Pick one you like. The truth is probably that I've gotten too lazy to write. I'll try to do better. Here's a video of pigeons flying around the corner of the town square. Maybe that will do for now.

The Further Adventures of ...Lilibeth

I'm sure you're all wondering how the benevolent despot idea panned out...sorry to have kept you in such suspense. The truth of the matter is that I changed my mind at the last minute and decided to be a gypsy. After searching through about a dozen boxes in the attic to find the costume boxes, and after giving up on finding that perfect gypsy hat that I know lies in one of them, I decided, rather hurriedly with my car-poolers only minutes away, to wear my son's Brazilian Jijitsu outfit--white pants and jacket--along with a T-shirt that says "secret government ninja" across the front. I also fixed a little necklace wallet that proclaimed me a member of the secret service. Grabbing a pair of wrap around sun glasses from the garage I ran out the door, four minutes late. Wouldn't you know it! I forgot the nun-chucks and the shiny spiky weapon thing that I don't know the name of but that would have certainly impressed my students and made them just a little more wary of giving me a hard time in class. Oh well. Hi-Yah!

Today was retro day--60's to 80's. I just put on a skirt, embroidered blouse, and red bonnet and said I was from the 80's--(1880's.) Tonight I had to drive to another town to attend a rules meeting for academic team coaches. Well. Of course I changed first. What do you think I am? A geek?

Anyway, here's a video of the eighth grade class all decked out, and one of my junior high girls' class-minus one who was absent. Aren't they adorable?

Temporary Cure for Chronic Old-Fashionivity

It's homecoming week at school--football homecoming no less, so all the students are bouncing off the lockers. There are streamers and hundreds of white Christmas lights dripping from the ceiling in the hall, so with the regular lights off, it's festive and mysterious at the same time. The theme verse is John 14:6--Jesus answered "I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." From that, the theme for homecoming took a couple of giant steps, without so much as a "Mother, may I," to cowboys and bikers riding into the sunset. All the class posters have the verse and a sunset. Most of them also have bikers and cowboys and football goal posts. Mine has a cross floating in space--planets all around, Saturn resplendent in gold and copper fabric paint. That's what you get when you keep bouncing ideas around and throwing little fences in the way. Any way, we should get something for creativity, at least.

Normally, I'm the most fuddy-duddy of the teachers. Everything I wear is a throw-back to the last decade...or a hand-me-down from someone who was once in style and probably still is, now that they've got rid of their old stuff. That's fine with me; I've always felt style was over rated.

However, it feels good, at least once a year, to be dressed just right. On Monday we were supposed to be bikers or cowboys. I wore a red bandana, dark shades, and a cowboy shirt--giving a nod to both genres. Today was backwards day. I curled my page boy hairstyle up--into a flip--wore my blouse and sweater backwards, and even wore a beret--backwards of course. The hardest part was wearing my shoes on the wrong feet, but it wasn't even that bad with crocs. I didn't try putting my pants on backwards--kind of afraid the zipper wouldn't stay up, and there is a limit to my dignity.

Tomorrow is career day. I think I'll be a benevolent despot. I have a golden scepter and a turban...just need a robe...hmmm. I'll let you know how it went. Do you think they will obey my every word? Stop! Desist bouncing off the lockers and batting the streamers as if you were a bunch of kittens... or I'll export thee to Siberia!

Sunrise through the Storm

I just want to let you know...all you who slept in this morning...that you missed a gorgeous sunrise. If you live in my part of the world, you awoke to a heavy, wet fog--a storm-cloud gray, smoky veil that hung in great swaths all around. It was warm, wet, and smothering. None-the-less we set out for school, with the u-joints squeaking a little and the wipers adding a whoosh every half mile or so. Our road appeared only shortly before we needed it, and the green pasture lands all around us crumbled to mists at the edges. Suddenly, right in front of our eyes, a door opened in this dark cavern sky wall, and the sun bounced in--big and orange and bulging, like an overripe persimmon, but it shone, and the rays of that soft shining showed us the proud, white castle of a grain elevator with the quiet town clustered meekly at its feet. A place of greatest pre-dawn calm...and all around a world of whirling dark storm. Like I said...You missed it.

I didn't have a camera, so I looked for a sunrise that came close to what we saw...well, I did find this one where the sun is the same and the doorway it looks through is the same. We had no intervening tree, however, just a straight road leading into the little town ahead, and myriads of clustering clouds.

Grandparents' Day at Preschool

As I walked through the door of the gymnasium, before I could fold my dripping, black umbrella, I was sideswiped by a little, red-headed bundle of momentum:

"I'm a railroad car," he announced loudly, "My name is John Henry."

While I was trying to sort that out, I felt another child hugging my legs. It was my grandson, Zaya, happy to see me in his world for once. He pronounced the umbrella cool, made me show him how to open it, and practically danced as he led me to a room full of old people..."Grandparents' day," he shouted, to no one in particular.

It's true. I attended a grandparents' event...as a grandparent. It felt extremely odd, and made me want to shuffle a little and wear round, gold-rimmed glasses. This can't be happening to me. It still feels strange to me that my parents are grandparents; that word only refers to old people...people like my parents' parents. Now there are the real grandparents. I'm still a kid, trying to sort out the world.

And yet...there I sat, being read to...cute little poems and stories about how wonderful I am. It seemed all wrong. I'm the one who usually writes all that stuff for grandparents' day. Now I have to listen to it while I sit primly at a cute table decorated with cut-out handprints, fall viney/leafy stuff, orange and yellow laffy taffys intermingled with new crayons and a few chocolate kisses. I sipped the orange juice...because I had already gulped down three cups of coffee this morning at school-- it sometimes takes that much to give me the upper hand in will power over my sophomores--and if I drank any more, my junior class would have to peel me off the ceiling sixth hour so we could grade their assignment. As I said, before I distracted myself in dependent clauses and punctuation, I sipped the orange juice and listened, and looked at all those old people around me. Three or four of the pre-schoolers had four grandparents there, and almost all of them had two, so there was a large audience. Fortunately, I made it through the speech, but it took a furtive snatching of a candy kiss to sustain me.

Next we went to see the preschool room. Zaya showed me, and his other grandparents where everything was. He showed me how bouncy his shoes were and how he kept a hula hoop up. Later, in the auditorium, he sat on a fuzzy, round mat.

"Look, Grandma," he yelled from his pink bubble, "I've got a girly color."

Then we heard songs and poems and a story. We colored an elephant and listened to Zaya read. He tried to write his name, but got sidetracked by an A that turned out like a balloon. It was too funny, so we amused ourselves with the colors on the crayons. They are written in English, Spanish, and French. He had fun with rojo-violeta and with vert. We were then asked to interview our own grandchild, asking them questions from a written sheet. My grandson knew I was his mom's mom, but he didn't know my real first name. He knew where I lived, but wasn't sure what I did for a living; he said I did cleaning.

Then we all went into another room and feasted on a fantastic lasagna meal. It was an odd interlude in the middle of my usual day, and I enjoyed it immensely, almost as much as a grandparent would have .

Oh well. Guess I better stop writing on and on about it and get some of that cleaning done.

Schnetka--the Recipe

Schnetka Recipe--This is a cinnamon, sugary, creamy, pie crusted, delicious pastry. It's best served warm along with a nice cup of tea or coffee.

4 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 cup Crisco
1cup water (as needed to make dough)

1 cup sugar
1Tbls.cinnamon
1/2 cup of brown sugar

1cup sugar
1 cup cream
1tsp vanilla


Mix together flour, 1 cup sugar, 1tsp salt, Crisco, and water and roll out on flat surface to make a 20 by 22 inch rectangle.
Spread with butter, sprinkle with 1 cup of sugar mixed with 2 T cinnamon. Sprinkle 1/3 cup of brown sugar over the top.
Cut into 4 by 41/2 " squares and roll each square.
Spray an 11 by 15 inch pan very heavily with baking spray or grease it well. (or use sprayed parchment)
Place schnetka on pan leaving small space between them. ( A jelly roll pan works great but a cookie sheet allows the gooey stuff to boil over and burst into flames in the bottom of your oven so make sure the pan is deep enough...even if you have to use a cake pan. Trust me on this one.)

Mix together 1 cup of cream, 1 cup of sugar, and 1 tsp of vanilla. Pour this mixture over the top of schnetka. Sprinkle with more sugary stuff. (use the bits that spilled while you were rolling.)

Bake at 365 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes (depending on type of pan. They need to be browned on top and done all the way through.)

Remove the schnetka from the pan immediately, turning them out on a plate or tray. Here's roughly what they look like. Sorry you can't taste them. 

Determination

Let me tell you a story about Turtle's grandmother. One day when she was 87 years old her daughter Gladys walked into the house and found her standing on the kitchen cabinet painting the ceiling.
"Mom," she scolded in concern, "Why are you up there? You know the doctor has told you over and over, no climbing!"
"I didn't climb," answered her mother, " I just took three little steps...stepped onto a stool, stepped onto a chair, and stepped onto the cabinet."
"Well, you are just stepping down. You know you might fall and end up in the hospital."
Gladys helped her down and made her promise that she wouldn't stand on anything off the ground in return for the assurance that she would get someone to come over that week and finish the ceiling. Things got a little slow for grandma that week, however, and when Gladys arrived with the promised help, they found the kitchen ceiling all finished.
"You promised you wouldn't climb," said Agnes.
"Oh I didn't. You needn't worry about me like that."
"So how did the ceiling get painted?"
"I just tied a paint brush onto the end of my broom."
Turtle comes from stubborn stock.


I was reminded of all this yesterday while painting eaves at the cabin. Little by little I'm getting the outside finished...but it makes me feel like I'm 87, well maybe not. Hey. I got three more little wall sections done and it's looking gorgeous, but I had to take some time out to mow so I didn't get it all cut in. Maybe next time.

New Energy Bursts from the Smoldering Ashes

Somewhere...

even in the midst of this crazy year, I've discovered new energy in teaching my Christian Studies IV class. That class always takes preparation, but after ten years of teaching it, I could ease up a little and rest on what I already know; not this year though. More than ever, I'm finding myself preparing hours for that class and excited about teaching it.

Why?

Well I believe I've self-analyzed it down to one thing: This summer, a month before school started, I received a letter from one of the students who was going to be in the class. She said: "I'm so looking forward to being in CS IV next year." On enrollment day, another couple of seniors came up to me and said the same thing: "We can't wait for your Bible Class."

You do see, don't you? How could I do less than my best?

I think that's what every teacher needs. Maybe other people too.
Hmm. I'll have to think about that one.
Hopefully, I'm not too old to learn a lesson.

Sunday Scribblings

Away Games--ah the bliss!

Well, how wonderful is this! I'm already home. It's light outside. I still have enough energy to do laundry.
"What!" you say? "How did it happen? No volleyball games? No concession stands?"
"Not for a whole week," I answer gleefully. It's called 'away games'. Mmmm.

Furthermore, I actually had time during the day today to use my planning time for working on lesson plans and grading. (a good thing since I'm a week behind on both...and it's only the second full week of school).

Turtle called and said he is going to pick up something rotisseried at Homeland. I said I would love that--whatever it is--although I hope it isn't iguana or octopi.

So laundry sounds pretty tame. I'm so stoked I'm even going to vacuum the den. Hooray.

P.S. You've heard the phrase: "Don't knock yourself out." You thought it was kind of preposterous right? You should see the lump on the side of my head. (In a week I've: slipped on a cube of ice on the concession stand floor and twisted my knee falling; slid in a puddle of water in the hall--our school roof leaks--and sailed all the way to the floor with my armload of books; and (the dumbest) whacked myself in the side of the head with the back door of the school suburban. Deft, adroit, graceful--that's me.)

Not Keeping Up

It has been a difficult week. Sorry for not blogging or commenting much. I counted my hours and found that I had put in 71. That's counting driving time to and from school with a van load of students, and working in the concession stand--cleaning, sorting, ordering the groceries, buying groceries we needed from night to night, and running the actual stand for the games, which last from about three-thirty until eight, depending on who wins and how close the games are, so after clean-up and inventory and deciding with the class moms what to serve the next night, I've arrived home after nine three nights this week. It's insane. Who thought up sports anyway? Who invented senior trip?

Well, it's not all terrible. The students have been real troopers. Out of the ten, two play volleyball, and two play football. They come work in the concession stand whenever they aren't in one or the other. They're attitudes are great, and they are a joy to work with. I've also been helped by four of the moms. They take turns bringing groceries and helping in the concession stand. Still. I'm there from open to close.

Monday we have another set of games. I've decided I'm going to open them, then go to my room and do lesson plans and grading until around six, when the varsity plays. That way, I'm there in my room if they need me, but I won't be left with so much of my class work to do over the weekend. Surely, I'll get the hang of this and be more on top of it next week. (She says with a sigh.)

Anyway, on the bright side. My classes look good. Twenty three seniors all very excited to learn philosophy and logic and worldviews; great juniors, in spite of the concession marathon; sophomores: a mix--some wise, some still a bit immature; 15 seventh and eighth grade boys. They already talked me into setting up a chess tournament for them. (The Bracket is on the wall, guys!). We are doing an over view of the Old Testament. I can tell already that it's going to be fun. You would not believe it if I told you how polite some of these little guys are. Sometimes I just want to hug them. Then I have a small, quiet class at the end of the day: eight precious seventh and eighth grade girls. (May they stay that way all year!) (Well, not eight--I'll give the class room to grow--but precious...and quiet...It really helps at the end of the day.)

We also had a funeral this week. That's five for this year...five of our good friends in the church.
I guess as you get older, this happens. On Sunday evening, after church, Turtle and I sat and talked to a couple of our good friends--a board member and his wife--for an hour and a half, just visiting. Somehow you need that when times are tough.

Next week we start our Wednesday night program at church and tonight Elijah and his good friend Jeremiah are beginning a new thing: A contemporary worship service. We will just go sing for an hour, maybe a short devotional. It should be refreshing to the spirit... maybe counteract my crazy week.

Observations of Olympic Jewelry

(Limericks...for Sunday Scribblings), whose prompt was Observations

and for

Mad Kane, the Limerick Junkie, whose prompt was jewelry.

I'm going to take that as Olympic necklaces (for obvious reasons)


Men's Gymnastics

They're doing remarkable things
On the horse, on the bars, on the rings
Their leads are commanding
They stick every landing
They've balanced their Yangs and their Yings






Shelly-Ann Fraser

The 100 is no piece of cake-a
You cannot afford a mistake-a
Just a cool running leap
for a clean medal sweep
It's Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica!

Michael Phelps

His perfect, elongated torso
has been featured as never before, so
When his swimming suit slips
Down toward his hips
The length of it seems even more so.

Hey, there were a lot of pictures that better illustrated the point, but I just didn't want to post them on my blog.

However, I'm not trying to detract from his incredible feat--eight gold medals. Way to go, Michael!

What are these thirteen things? I'll Tell You.

An Odd Thursday Thirteen...

And Here are the Answers I promised last Thursday:

Somehow odd-looking items accumulate in this family like dust accumulates in empty cabins...softly they settle on any available flat surface until this unsympathetic mom person finds a place for them. Since Turtle collects weird historical stuff, Elijah adds music oddities, and Claye fills crannies with art tools, we have an interesting hodgepodge. They all have to do with music, art or antiques.

1. Many of you guessed this one correctly. It's a cleaner for a clarinet.













2. You really needed to see how small this one
is. It is a water color container; The brushes
go in the outside and the inside actually holds
water. It really does not leak.













3. Nobody had a clue about this one. It is different kinds of wax used for casting jewelry.
The sheet wax is for little designs, and the strips
are for the rings and such.
Here are some pieces made of wax and three rings
already cast in silver.
Claye made them this summer in jewelry-casting class.












4. This is a Turkish coffee grinder. I'm sorry, but I inadvertently left off the handle so it really wasn't
fair for those of you guessing.













5. Yes. A capo for a guitar. Many of you knew this.













6. This is old music. Very old. Turtle says it is Greek, but the document is from the Middle Ages.
It's hard to see unless you enlarge it, and even
then it doesn't look like music to me, but I have
the word of the experts.













7. This is a brush, but not just any kind. It is a special "fan" brush for painting stuff like clouds.













8. And this is used to scrape around the clay pot while you are shaping it. It keeps the water from
saturating the base.













9. This is used to cut the clay pot off the bat after it has dried a little.













10. And this is a tiny, tiny printing press. It was used for stamping a label for a book, for instance.
It actually belonged to my husband's grandparents,
and I don't know how long it has been in the family.













11. These are antique ink wells. They used to sit on an ornate desk in a hotel lobby.















12. These are strange, until you see them in use:
See. They hold paint and are ever so handy when
attached to a palette.



























13. Ok. This is a one-of-a-kind creation by Claye. She needed a tall jar for storing those long brushes and a place to hang the Chinese brushes that have to hang upside down. Ok. It really wasn't fair either, but you'll have to admit, it's strange.



















One more thing. If you find that you were really good at this one, please go here and tell me what these two things are. I really have no clue this time.

What Was I Thinking?

I'll give you the good news first. I'm now the proud sponsor of the junior class. Well, that doesn't sound so bad, now, does it? How did I get this honor. Well, it was a volunteer thing. Right. I volunteered. Sounds crazy, I know, but you weren't there, sitting around that table, realizing that it's been five years since you sponsored one of the upper classes and it was now your turn, because everyone else could not do it because they were swamped with more responsibilities than you were.

Now the bad news: sponsorship is scary. For two years I will help this class raise money for their senior trip. I will buy groceries for and run concession stands at hours and hours of volleyball and basketball games, (which means I have to attend them, but won't get to watch them.) I will organize suppers and food booths and dunk tanks and I will plan for junior/senior fun day and for graduation. At the end of this time I will be rewarded by getting to go on a week long trip with a dozen seniors and some of their parents. This entire experience will bring me closer to these students and mean a good deal to them. That's all wonderful.

None-the-less, it is a daunting quest for me. I can't cook. I don't know how to order food. Even making the punch for a large event has baffled me. (At my daughter's wedding we ran out of punch and ended up with straight kool-aide...plus, I forgot to serve the gallons and gallons of ice-cream we had stored in the freezer. Surely I could have blended that with the kool-aide or something.) I have three concession stand volleyball games next week. Three! Whatever will I do? I think I'll move a little bed out to my classroom--oh wait, I'm driving a school van route this year and can't stay over. Hmmm. Life just might get exciting. I'm warning you. We will probably sell food previously unheard of in high school sports history. For the trip I'll probably recommend going to a nearby camp in the Ozarks or something. (Truth be told, I hate flying; boating makes me sick; bus trips nauseate me, and a real vacation for me would be for everyone else to leave me home alone and tell the world that I'm with them. Just don't tell the juniors. I'll fake it for two years.)

Two years from now, when I'm back from senior trip, I'll collapse. Until then I'll put one foot in front of another and pray for patience.

The Music Studio That Was Once a Parlor

Two A.M. They are still at it. Elijah and his good friend Marx. They have turned my parlor into a music studio and are recording the next big hits for the American listening market. Marx has a music set-up so precise that it corrects pitch slips and lowers the volume of the piano when it drowns out the voice. It's amazing. Even more amazing is the state of my room when I come creeping in at 6:00 A.M. to make my coffee and go for my walk. Yikes!

Shalom Aikido

Every night before it was time for VBS, I took care of all those who came early. We played "market music" down by the river. Anyway, Zaya is supposed to be a little Hebrew boy. He wanted "the white costume" and after I saw this clip I knew why. Here is the little Japanese video game fan doing a routine to Jewish music.

What is This?

The Art Santa came by Monday night with a pack full of treasures for Claye. It was Mary Lou. (I'll have to do an entire article about her some day) She had been given a couple of boxes of art stuff for cleaning out an old garage. There were paints, brushes, canvases, craft items and these two very intriguing little items. Does anybody out there know what they are? We're guessing either something for art or something for smoking pot.

The first one looks a little like a chess piece and it had felt glued on the bottom. The black stuff inside looks like ashes but it doesn't seem to have any smell. We don't know if the metal piece goes with the clay piece or not.














The second one is like a little strainer with a pot. However, it has a fixed, double bottom and when you tip it, it sounds like there is sand between the layers.

Gray Matters

I'm older. Each day I'm amazed
That I falter, I fade, and I'm dazed
Though I'm falling apart,
From my head to my heart
The real "me" is hardly fazed.

Inside I'm much younger than you
And my dreams are still lavishly huge
All the plans in my head
They're alive 'til I'm dead
And the thoughts that I think are still new.

This is a Limerick for Mad Kane's Humor Blog. The prompt was "Getting Older".

Bessie's Turn

I couldn't get this video to post with the others; maybe too much in one post, so here it is.

Claye and Two Cousins throwing Pots

We had a nice surprise on Saturday. My brother-in-law and his children had been camping with their church group in the area and decided to pay us a visit. Of course we just had to show them all the VBS stuff from our week, and Claye threw a pot for them. The oldest two--I'll dub them Bessie and Bert-- each tried a hand or two at making a pot and I took some video. The first one, Claye's, is actually quite long as she spent a little more time than usual, showing us different possibilities. Then we all had a taco dinner and polished off the day with cobbler and ice cream. Ah! Did I ever tell you how much I adore summer?
It's about over though. I start back to work Friday. Sniff Sniff.

Scary Words for Non-computer Nerds

Update! Do I Have To?

There are two terms that bring trepidation to my computing soul: power surge and new updates.

Our power isn't the most reliable here in the heart of Oklahoma; occasionally--most often during a high wind or winter ice storm--the electricity will fail. On rare occasions it will decide with its dying breath to seize my modem and drag it along to the grave for company. New modems aren't something I like to pick up with the groceries. They cost money and they may or may not work when you first install them. That's frustrating because you can't go online for the fix when the line is what's broken. Arrghh! However, when they do work, they work well. You see the three green lights all solidly on, and you experience the peace of a junkie waiting for the euphoria...well maybe that's carrying it a bit far, but you know what I mean.

The other problem isn't so simple: new updates. Now I realize that these should be met with wonder and glee: "Wow! What has Firefox come up with now? I can't wait to see!" "Oh, look at this: Google Earth has added a dimension; now we will be able to explore the seventh planet from the sun, if it is still a planet," but in my experience it's as risky as taking a random bottle from the medicine cabinet: "Oh wow, these little red pills look good for today, so round and harmless!" At least the manufacturers of those pills put all the "may cause" warnings: May cause violent stomach cramps and that other word that's hard to spell and harder to live through. The update people don't have those restrictions. And they are insistent: Everyone must be brought up to snuff. So I get tired of the messages popping up at the bottom of my screen: "You have 5 new updates ready to install". My hand hits the yes button before my mind is awake for the day...and I just lost the whole firefox option. It's gone. To gain internet access at all I have to go back to my former browser. Of course, that browser is miffed at me for having left it, so it won't remember all my passwords and proudly bring up my favorites. I lose "bloglines" and all my shortcuts and find myself having to access my blog through two other blogs...well you get the idea. But that's the least of my troubles; It seems my computer just took the opposite of the little red pills when it swallowed those updates. Lag lag lag. Arrghh! OK. Time for a system restore and a computer clean up operation. I'll have to be satisfied with googling earth in the old fashion way but my Firefox is smokin'.

VBS-Philippi

We had 74 children last night.

We are set up for 60.

So while it is a great success, I'm flustered.

I even forgot to tell them that Paul and Silas were missing and had to employ the drama team to announce the news in each room.

It's terribly much fun, but I'm exhausted.

Philippian VBS--or 13 Reasons Why I'm Not Blogging Right Now.

A Thursday Thirteen....well sort of one...


Our Vacation Bible School is well underway. We had far too many children last night for the facilities, but how can you turn away such eager and anxious little smiles. When this is all over, I'll probably write a long article about it, but for now, just a few pictures.