2008 Newsletter: The Untold Stories

Welcome to those of you who are here as a result of the Christmas newsletter. 

 

It is a snowy night on the mountain. 

Gilda did fine until she got to our driveway;

it's the second time this winter

(and it's not even officially winter yet)

that Den had to retrieve her

from the bottom of the driveway.

The amount of time that passed

between Den's  leaving and returning

was a bit humiliating.

But I'm not here to write about the weather.

I'm here to answer newsletter questions:

Ben Affleck?  

Ben and Matt Damon were in Kenya earlier in the year,

where Ben met Aaron Adkins.

Aaron was one of Paul's groomsmen

who grew up in Kenya

and is currently working there.

Aaron and Ben spent a few hours hanging out,

and Aaron thought,

"Who can we call?"

Aaron decided on Paul, 

entered his Tanzanian number,

and handed the phone to Ben Affleck

only to have Paul choose not to pick up,

as there was something semi-interesting happening at the time.

Gilda?

Gilda is a 1990 Volvo wagon.

I first met her when she belonged to Aaron Adkins

(yup, same guy)

and She-Who-Cares-Nothing-About-Cars thought,

"That car is gorgeous!  It looks it's wearing a tuxedo and sneakers!"

The car is now is ours,

she and her quirks.

We named her Gilda 

after we pushed the clutch pedal to the floor

and it stayed

because,

as with one of Gilda Radner's characters,

"It's always something."

Currently the something is

a racing right-turn signal

and quirky wipers,

but has been brakes,

heater,

axle....

We love her.

Tossing snakes off the roof skills?

When we were re-roofing this summer,

at least two medium-large snakes

had climbed the ivy and were quite comfortable 

in the comb of the roof.

Den,

being the non-snake-phobic of the group,

tossed them off.

Iditarod?

We won't know if Den has made the final three

for the Teacher on the Trail

until late January.

If so, he'll travel to Alaska in late February.

Hope hope hope hope hope.

Knocked a hummingbird out of the air?

Den tossed a towel from upstairs onto the deck 

and when he picked it up later,

there was a hummingbird in it.

That same week,

the cat also knocked a hummingbird out of the air

but he used his paws.

Made the cat limp?

I shouldn't have indulged his request:

"I want to chase the balled-up paper! 

Please throw the paper!

Please please throw the paper!

Please please please please!

Throw it throw it throw it!" 

two days after he was declawed.

Three guilt-ridden months later he was back to walking normally.

Floating skills?

I can float in six inches of water.

Skills improve as the pounds go on.

Slid down waterfalls?

Yup.  In Malawi.

But be careful in slot canyons;

there may be flash floods.

New mouse-killing technique?

I knocked the mouse off the stone wall

and imprisoned him in a cottage cheese container.

Paul, not knowing I meant to release him,

rapidly shook the container.

Rapid death.

Any other questions???

Christmas blessings to all who read this.

Joy and peace,

Sue and Denny

A Thankful ABC

While cleaning out the costume closet last weekend,

I found my Pilgrim skirt.

"I'll wear that on Wednesday for Thanksgiving," I thought,

and put it in a good place.

This morning, 

unable to remember where that "good place" was,

I wore plan B,

my dad's leather Indian shirt 

complete with bones, teeth, antlers, 

hair (both horsehair and my mom's hair),

and lots and lots of fringe.

Today while kids walked under those fringed sleeves,

I asked what they were thankful for:

"Parents."

"My family."

"My mom."

All nice-but-bland answers

'til I got to one wild-haired boy...

"Banana cream pie!! We're having it tomorrow!"

In my classroom,

we worked on Thankful ABC lists.

B was for bologna,

G was for God,

and also for "Gesus" 

(makes sense if you think only of the letter name)

T was for "Teecher,"

X for X-box.

Den and I are working on our own list:

Antioxidants in dark chocolate

Bedtime reading

Chocolate milk

Desks, clean

Eggs, deviled (next on the job list)

Friends who pray

Grandbabies

Hot showers

Iditarod show on the Discovery Channel

Jobs finished

K

Lap cats

Moose Tracks ice cream

Nightly news (most of the time)

Owl sounds

Pilgrims (ten-greats-ago grandfather was Peter Browne, 

who actually not a Pilgrim,

 but was on the Mayflower)

Quilts (actually, down comforters)

Retirement is on the way!

Snowblowers

Trips just about anywhere

Uncle Jack conversations

Vacation days

Windows

X

Yancey books

Zappia's bread, warm, with butter

Happy Thanksgiving.

May this day find you truly thankful.

What is on your list this year?

100

My grandmother, Maud May Waugaman Rensel, 

was born in Sykesville, PA on November 17, 1908,

the fourth of six children.

I think of her often.

I think of her intricate, jungle-like gardens.

"Look, Susie, it looks like God used a purple paintbrush on a white iris."

She taught me that carrots are best eaten when standing in the garden,

a little dirt makes them taste even better.

Grandma made me costumes each year.

I won "most creative" in her gypsy costume in first grade.

She made a huge wardrobe for my Barbies;

only as an adult did I appreciate the tiny armholes and tinier buttons.

Grandma had great Christmas stuff,

and I could play with it anytime.

She'd make cutout cookies all year round.

(Poinsettias don't have to have red icing, you know.

And Kayro syrup makes icing extra shiny.)

Rainy summer afternoons,

we'd find our way to the attic

for the Christmas decorations 

that were stored near Uncle Jack's early taxidermy animals...

pasteboard houses, bottle brush trees, glass angel choirs.

She bought them in downtown Pittsburgh

when she rode the bus to her eye appointments.

She never drove.  Ever.

Grandma taught Sunday School

and Vacation Bible School.

Whenever I read Genesis 1

I picture her little planets for each day of creation.

"And it was good."

I remember her strong alto voice.

She had taken voice lessons in her youth...

great lung capacity, also good for burping.

No teenaged boy could outdo her.

She could rattle windows.

Sunday dinners were amazing.

Homemade rolls. 

Mashed potatoes and gravy.

Ham.

Homemade noodles with little pieces of celery.

Stuffed celery.

Candied sweet potatoes.

Corn from her garden.

Harvard beets.

Fried beets.

(I love beets.)

Raisin-filled cookies.

Apricot-filled cookies.

And pie! Cherry. Sour cherry.

With brown sugar streusel topping.

Maud was married the year Charles Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic.

She and Bernie eloped,

drove across the border to Salamanca, New York.

They survived the depression

with the help of a barber shop.

"Your hair grows even when you are poor."

She helped Grandpa Bernie build their camp.

Strong.

"Maud the Mule," she'd say.

She raised three boys 

with a sense of humor and great tolerance.

Who else would allow boys to bring rattlesnakes

into their backyard in town?

"Don't you dare lose any."

When Bernie died after a preventative Swine Flu shot,

Maud moved to Florida to live with her sister during the winters.

She who rarely travelled went to Europe,

to Oberammergau, Germany

to see the passion play.

She wrote us postcards,

and later, long letters

in her loopy handwriting.

They always included a joke or two. 

Always.

In her last years,

she lost her memories of most things,

but could belt out hymns to the very end.

Tonight, Paul, Katrina, and Anna came for supper.     

On the table were Maud's white china dishes, 

her figures of kids from around the world,

her tiny plastic Mother Goose statues

(more eye appointment finds).

Happy 100th birthday, Grandma.

I love you.

Susie

I don't know.... Alaska.

At the end of each first grade day, 

we learn another line in the song "The Fifty States That Rhyme."

We discuss what we might visit and do in each new state, 

then review what we've learned:

Did you know that you can search for diamonds in Arkansas?

That eating cheese curds makes a squeaking sound? 

Did you know 

that the stack of states from Louisiana to Minnesota 

looks like an elf?

That Montana looks like a man looking over a cliff? 

(Actually, I'm pretty sure the man is Richard Nixon.)

Did you know that parts of Alaska are dark even in the daytime?

We talk about Alaska a lot,

as it was my most recent vacation.  

Teacher prerogative.

Yesterday Joel asked me what the capital of Alaska is.

I replied, "Juneau."

Joel said, "No."

I said, "No?"

He looked puzzled. "No, I DON'T know...

 that's why I asked you."

True story.

S.

An Election Week Marriage

This week a friend got married again.

Her previous husband was taken by the war,

and though another serviceman had proposed,

she married a different man that she hadn't known long.

He seems wonderful in many ways--

calm, enthusiastic, smart, with many friends.

Some of his friends and their ideas make me uneasy,

and I wish she'd have known him a little better,

but she was financially unstable, 

and I think she was more than a little infatuated.

For better or worse,

I wish them the best,

and pray God will bless them both.

Let's Try This Again

When our computer had a glitch back in July,

I never suspected that it would be almost four months 

before we'd blog again.

In the interim,

school started, 

and first graders again greet me with enthusiastic stories:

"My house is full of peacock feathers!"

"I threw up last night and my dog ate it!" 

Alexa was looking at a horse book

and was horrified when Elijah said,

"I know that horse!  That's Black Booty!"

September 11th, we received the news that 

our daughter-in-law Katrina was being induced.

We planned for substitutes,

then were off to State College to meet

Anna Brion Shaffner.

We are now grandparents.

The small snuffling sounds 

and triple breaths

are reminders that life goes on.

On Tuesday, November 4th,

Den will turn fifty-five,

and millions of people will go to the polls to vote.

What about the animals?

Sheep want Obaaaaaaaaama,

goats prefer Ollama.

Horses like McMane, 

ducks like McRain,

puppies for Omama,

bigger dogs for McDane-- he's Great.

Then there's...

Dentists for McPain.

Tarzan and Boy for McJane.

Punctuation geeks for Ocomma.

Narcoleptics for Pajama.

Theater majors for Odrama.

Sugar producers for McCane.

The monkeys in the school courtyard

were enthusiastic about 

O'Cain and McBama.

I'm just ready for it to all be over.

Happy fifty-fifth birthday, Den.

I love you.

s.

How is she doing?

It's been a week since my mom, Aileen, entered an Alzheimers unit.
It's new and very clean,
has individual bedrooms,
a lounge,
a dining room,
a game room,
a crafts room,
a flower garden/yard area,
and friendly, competent workers.
Mom's room is right off the garden,
and has a visiting area in one corner
that allows for five guests at a time.
The room is bright
and filled with art,
books,
and photographs from home.

Starting a parent at an assisted living facility
is similar to starting a child in kindergarten.
You dress them in clean, attractive clothing,
take them on a Monday morning,
stay for a short time,
then leave.
You come back when you're told,
and have questions for those in charge:
How is she doing?
Is she getting along well with others?
Does she seem to fit in?

In Mom's case,
they say she's adjusting well.
She often thinks the others are former students,
and she falls somewhere in the middle ability-wise.
She has a lifelike baby doll there with her.
Some of the residents thought it was real,
and were amused that Mom had tricked them.
Some others think it is real
and beg to babysit.
A few think Mom is crazy for carrying around a fake baby,
ironic.

Memory loss comes in different ways.
If memory is like a beach,
some have theirs tidally eroded,
predictably,
little by little.
Mom's memory is a beach at low tide
in a war zone,
with craters in the sand.
She can seem totally normal,
then BOOM!
Where did that hole come from?
Holes used to consist of repeating stories,
restated questions,
forgetting to eat.
More recent holes have included hygiene issues,
which perhaps pushed her move somewhat.
The most recent hole was not knowing her letters:
A visit included a nurse-led group game of hangman.
This time, we're guessing a phrase.
Give me a letter. Ann?
B.
No B. Jo?
A... for Angel!
Mary?
B.
We've already had B. Pick another letter.
K.
Fred?
Silence.
Hurry up, will you?!?
Charley! Be nice! Fred doesn't want to play. Aileen?
My turn? What do you want me to do? Pick a letter? ...Man!
M? OK. Charlie?
B!
We've already had B. Pick another letter.
When they get to Lucille, she has some hard words figured out.
She's the top of the class.
Jo always responds with letters from "Angel" enthusiastically,
and makes others laugh.
She's the class clown.
Fred seems to be at the bottom this day.
Mom is the most talkative,
and doesn't seem too concerned that she doesn't know her letters.

We return to Mom's room,
where I've recently returned her things to their appropriate places.
She regularly puts her things in piles
on the bookshelf
or just outside her door:
shampoo,
toothpaste,
jewelry,
photos,
books,
scarves.
Is this packing for home,
or simply a continuation of the rearranging
that she did nightly at her house?
I guess it depends on your point of view;
the glass is either half empty or half full.
The mom I've seen in the past week
was clean,
animated,
more of the personality I knew years ago,
instead of often curled up on her couch
in damp, wrinkly clothing,
feeling sick.

The glass is half full.

Coldfwigs Warm

"Coldfwigs Warm"
This phrase was printed on snowman bellies
at a store in Smicksburg.
Not being able to figure out the meaning,
I asked other shoppers,
the checkout girls,
the guy who owned the store....
No great ideas
'til the owner asked his wife.
She said the shipment had come from Japan
and the boxes and packing slips were almost indecipherable--
spelling errors,
reversed letters,
spacing mistakes.
Knowing that, she speculated
thinking of "Cold hands, warm heart",
it should have been "Cold twigs, warm..."
and then the heart was missing.
Those little snowman bellies
have had me chuckling all week.

In the same store was a sign:
"We may find that the little things were really the big things after all."
With that in mind,
here is a partial list of other little things this week:
-tomato cheese pie
-a pocket of sunshine on a chilly day
-cat snuffles
-an exquisite spotted moth
-a milksnake stretched across afternoon bricks
-south-to-north lightning
-fireside conversations
-Singin' in the Rain
-a fresh cabbage
-two brand-new ten-cent baby carriers at Goodwill
(did you know that Katrina and Paul are expecting in early October?)
-a u-turn on Beaver Drive

In May I wrote of being unable to confirm a roadkilled badger--
add that to the list of little things in life that I'd change.
Since that time,
I reminded myself that sometimes things need immediate attention,
so yesterday
when I spotted a mostly intact unknown mammal on Beaver Drive,
I turned around,
parked,
carried the little fella by the tail to the car,
emptied a grocery bag for the carcass,
deposited the body,
tied the bag shut,
and brought him home.
Using the Fieldbook of Natural History
(perhaps the most useful present Den has ever gotten me),
I checked for small, round ears
and a white chinspot
amd confirmed that it was, indeed,
a mink.
Cool!

Now, what to do with a mink?
I showed Paul and Katrina,
showed Denny,
then decided to give it as a belated birthday gift to my friend Linda
who had encouraged my previous badger thoughts.
I made a card:
"Yesterday I went to Goodwill,
and found you a mink...
in the middle of Beaver Drive."
Today I dropped the gift and card at Linda's house.
She took it well.

Parting advice:
Appreciate the little things each day,
and beware of gifts in plastic bags.

S.

Crime Does Not....

I teach first grade.
In reading class,
I teach that there are
a number of ways to figure out what a word is;
two choices are
sounding it out (phonics)
and putting in what makes sense (context clues).
Most kids use a combination of approaches as needed.

I was leading two groups in reading Aliki's Feelings.
The page was about
the verbal consequences of flying a paper airplane in class.
The teacher's words were in capitals,
the boy's thoughts were in lower case letters*,
and a commenting bird's interpretation of feelings were in italics.
At the end of the page,
the bird's final comment is
"Crime does not pay,"
but each time the child read
"Crime does not play."

I guess the knowing the result of classroom misdemeanors
outweighed the phonics in this case.
Kids are so funny.

S.

*Did you know that lower case letters
were kept in the bottom drawer
at the Oxford print shop?
Thus "upper case" and "lower case."
I love trivia.

Mayday! Mayday!

The first day of May has been interesting.

I think I saw a badger on the way to school.
Do we have badgers around here?

The marsh marigolds and skunk cabbage
that I admired in the meadow yesterday
had been shrivelled by frost overnight.

I stopped to tell bridge construction workers
to watch for arrowheads.
My grandparents owned that property sixty-five years ago,
and found arrowheads while working in the garden.

During morning bus duty,
I asked a kindergartener to put his lunch money in his backpack.
He complied,
then made his hand into a gun and shot me.

Diane Brewer challenged me to make her laugh today,
so during the announcements,
I said, "Good morning Juniata. This is Mrs. Brewer...."
Her kids looked at her and said, "That's not you."
Bright kids, those.

We began the day with a fire drill,
and soon after, the rain began.
We had to deliver May baskets to our indoor friends
rather than visiting the neighborhood.
The comment again this year was
"This is like 'ding dong ditch!'"
Since we couldn't get outside for dandelions and crabapple blossoms,
we added Hershey kisses.
There's no great loss without some small gain....

At the end of the day,
my class left to go to their dismissal rooms
and I wanted to use the time to "hot synch" my palm pilot,
but I couldn't remember how.
Technology vs the fiftysomething brain,
not pretty.
When I went to ask Christina,
the hall was jammed with parents and siblings
picking up students in a new location
due to hoagie deliveries in the gym.
Organized chaos.
Half a minute later,
the fire alarm went off.
In that dismissal crowd, a mom had been
holding a two-year-old too close to the alarm box.
Who now is responsible
for the three hundred dollar false alarm fine?

I stopped at a Home Camp ditch
to dig some marsh marigolds for transplanting.
The four foot shovel handle almost disappeared into the muck,
amazing!
and pulling it out covered quite a bit of me with mud,
but the flowers are exquisite.

The weather was warm enough to
finally cut my mom's hair outside
to avoid a mess.
She squirmed like a preschooler.
Good thing she didn't pay for that haircut!

Finally home!
My throat hurts.

Trying to step over the invisible garage door sensor
while carrying hairclippers
and books
and groceries
and school bag
and flowers,
and stuff in general,
the handle on a basket snapped
and an antique milk bottle
that was bound for the historical society
shattered all over the driveway.

I swept it up
and sliced my finger.

Den arrived soon after
and volunteered to make supper.
Bless you, Denny.

Now, after bandaids
and pork chops
and Airborne
and soaking muddy clothes
and listening ears
and a backscratch
and Survivor
and the rest of the bag of espresso chocolate chip cookies,
I'm feeling much better.

May there be relatively few "Maydays!" in your May.

Sue

Malaria

Last Saturday afternoon was spent sigh grocery shopping.
When I returned home, Den said, "Paul called."
"Oh? What did he say?"
"He said that Katrina had a positive malaria test,
and they are travelling to a bigger hospital for treatment.
He wanted me to call him back,
but I didn't know how. *
I told him we'd call tomorrow at 11:00."

A Houghton student had malaria this semester.
He had two parasites/200, and was very sick for days.
Kat's count was fifteen parasites/200.

My mind went into overdrive;
Katrina is pregnant, due in early October.
I called the Blue Cross Information Line
and asked about malaria during pregnancy.
"...possibilities include death of the mother,
birth defects, premature birth, stillborn."
I called some friends who are gifted in prayer,
and put Kat's name on some local prayer chains.
The older I get, the more I realize
-- my control is mostly illusion.
-- prayer is often the only option.
-- there is great power in prayer.

The earth continued turning.
Daylight came over Asia, where Kat's family was praying,
over Africa, where Paul and Kat's friends were praying,
over America, where friends were praying.
The church was at work.

We left Sunday School a bit early to make that 11:00 call.
Paul told us that Kat's fever was gone,
and that she's feeling better all the time.
Later in the week,
he said that Kat has had two more malaria tests,
both negative.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!

Sue

* Similar to "I can't come back! I don't know how it works!" Name that movie.

Spring Thoughts of Grandma Maud

Today was a beautiful early spring day,
sunny,
approaching fifty degrees.
I thought of my grandma, Maud Rensel.
She was a superb gardener;
her table was usually topped
with an artistic display of flowers.

During the early spring,
if budding forsythia branches are placed in water
and put in a warm place,
they'll bloom early and put on a lovely yellow display.
As I went to one of our budding forsythia bushes
and clipped a number of wands,
I thought of Maud.
When I took her graceful lead crystal vase
directly from the hot dishwasher,
I thought of Maud
...and as filled the vase with water
and heard a telltale "ping" as it cracked,
a word came to mind,
and, again, I thought of Maud.

March Waiting

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Mike, I hope you're flattered....
Some March thoughts:

1. March is the second advent--
waiting for God to display his new creation once again.
So far, we've seen robins, geese, a moseying skunk,
and a roadkill bunny.
Now we're watching for snowdrops in bloom,
coltsfoot,
and porcupines, raccoons, and possum.

2. Denny and his class tuned in daily for Iditarod updates,
and mushed fantasy dog teams over playground snowbanks.
The weather channel guy says diphtheria;
the book I read gave the pronunciation as diphtheria.
Are both correct?

3. Cleaning bookshelves is never as easy as it seems.
There's always a pile
that doesn't fit with the new organizational scheme,
maps that siphon away time,
xeroxed pages of jokes and stories.
Throw away?
I toss most of them back on the shelf.

4. Some weeks are jammed.
Holy week also contained St Patrick's Day
(dress as a leprechaun and throw green and gold glitter on kids' heads),
the official first day of spring
(dress as Mother Nature and bonk kids with flowers while explaining the equinox),
and two days of parent-teacher conferences,
all in four days.

5. Why, all of a sudden,
am I getting weird blog comments from people I don't know?
I ticked a few boxes to try to stop them,
and now I'm unsure whether any comments can get through.
Pictures have also been more of a pain than usual.
It's frustrating to be only slightly computer literate.
And why does this computer keep barking at me?

6. I've sucked thousands of ladybugs from windows in the last few weeks.
I do prefer them to the gypsy moths they were imported to fight, but
where have they been hiding?
What have they been eating?
What percentage of them have escaped from the vacuum cleaner?
If I refuse to suck any more of them,
will there be any biological repercussions?

7. Den made maple syrup at one of the county historical sites.
It's been a good year for sap.

8. I have been a Survivor fan for the last few seasons,
but I'm disgusted at the people who are volunteering/pleading to leave.
I think Den would be a terrific contestant for Survivor,
but he's not interested.

9. Den took the snowblower off the John Deere on Friday,
as the forecast was for an inch or two.
We woke on Saturday to a foot of new snow.
We now can confirm that it does take longer to shovel by hand.

10. Easter memories include
travelling to Houghton
without keeping a close eye on the backseat--
we had to make an abrupt stop in Bradford
for Luke to unload a chocolate bunny,
the eggs no one finds til months later,
pickled eggs,
and the resurrection story in swahili.
I am grateful to be reminded of Jesus's resurrection victory
and his free gift of grace.
He is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

Spring is Here. Right.

I know spring officially begins at the spring equinox.

But, for a number of years now,

we have celebrated March 1st as the first day of spring.

There are a number of reasons for this:

• If summer vacation is traditionally June, July, and August, then it follows that spring is March, April, and May.
• The first of the month is a more concise system for us OCD types.
• I have difficulty remembering whether the equinox is March 20th, 21st, or 22nd.
• The week containing March 1st is often the week that robins and bluebirds return, shivering.
• October is literally the eighth month, implying that the year starts in March.

If the robins come back this week, they're crazy;

March 2008 entered as a major snowstorm.

Mother Nature is still wearing 10 inch boots.

S.

PS. The day after I posted this, Den heard a robin in Clearfield, and tonight one flew over the house while Den was in the hot tub. Crazy.

Six Word Memoirs

You know that place between sleeping and waking,
that place where J.M.Barrie says fairies exist?
That's where my squirrel is busiest.
Last year, he wrote a riddle for everyone in my building
in about 45 minutes.
This morning, he was fascinated
by the concept behind the book
Not Quite What I Was Planning
in which people have written six word memoirs
(look here and here).
Stephen Colbert's, for example, is
"Well, I thought it was funny."

The squirrel tried his hand
(or is it his paw?)
at the challenge:

Laughed loudly and often-- sorry, family!

I did my best-- perhaps not.

Den is my very best part.

Took the big jump-- great fun!

Boiled life into phrases and scribbles.

Grace is an amazing idea. Thanks.


Maybe I should go back to sleep....

S.

The Week After Groundhog Day

One week ago,
we were there when Punxsutawney Phil
predicted six more weeks of winter.
We then joined the thousands of people
trudging through early morning cornfields
in multiple layers of clothing.
It evoked a tiny thought of what a refugee might feel like.
God, bless refugees.
One week down, and it's been a mixed bag weatherwise.
Today alone we had near whiteout conditions, blue skies, sleet, and rain.

It's been a mixed bag week otherwise, too.
Groundhog cookies,
headaches,
a Chinese New Year feast,
appointments,
a one hundredth day celebration,
and "speaking the truth in love" to parents.
A few moments in first grade particularly stand out:

Moment #1:
"Mrs. Shaffner!
I brought in 100 jellybeans for the 100th day of school!
Do you want coffee or booger?"

Moment #2:
"Who can name some polite body parts?"
"Arm...leg...teeth...mouth...spine...uvula...."
"Uvula, Jack?!
Cool! Show us your uvula."
We spent an interesting minute looking down neighbors' throats.
An hour later,
Jack tells the lunch lady that someone was twisting his ankle.
Turns out he meant wrist.
How can he know uvula but not wrist?

Moment #3:
"Mrs. Shaffner! Do you want a worm jellybean?
They're these ones with the red spots."
"Do you like them, Darius?"
"Yup! Gonna try a real worm in the spring!"

This is the day that the Lord has made...
remember to rejoice and be glad in it.
And hang in there for five more weeks.

Thanks for the picture, Stam Babies!

S.

In Person

Punxsutawney Phil,
the world famous weather prognosticating groundhog,
visited my school recently.
Later, when composing my classroom newsletter,
I gave advice on attending Groundhog Day.
"If you want to see the groundhog in person,
you need to go early,
as you'll need to park in downtown Punxutawney
and take a bus to Gobbler's Knob."
I chuckled over seeing the groundhog "in person"
instead of "in groundhog."
Then I discovered I was unsure of what "in person" meant.
If I went to see James Taylor in person,
was he the person, or was I the person?
We both had to be at the same place at the same time....
I surveyed a few colleagues, with mixed results.
My googling was inconclusive as well.
I'm now expanding my survey to include you.
What do you think?

Kitchen Goddess? Not.

I think I have a pretty good vocabulary.
The Reader's Digest vocab tests aren't much of a challenge.
I can probably feed a small child on a visit to the free rice website.
I can hold my own in most games of Trivial Pursuit.
But my intellectual self-image took a major hit at the grocery store this morning.

Den and I were at the local upscale grocery store
so I could pick up some ginger root.
While he perused the seafood,
I ducked down the baking aisle to get dark molasses
and to escape the sticker shock I get at the seafood counter.
Across the aisle were pots and pans.
Doing a price comparison on an item I just sent to Tanzania,
I noticed an adjoining label said "saucepan."
Saucepan??
Pans are low. Pots are higher.
I teach that in first grade phonics.
But saucepans are high.
I never knew that.
I guess that explains why I've never been referred to as a kitchen goddess.

S.

A Winter Morning's Prayer

I recently read that people often have guilt
because their minds wander when they pray.
The author (Philip Yancey?) suggested that we
turn our stream of consciousness
into a prayer.
I've been trying it on my way to school.

Whoa! The driveway is slippery!
Keep Gilda away from that tree!
God, bless Aaron Adkins who sold us Gilda.
I think he's in Kenya now.
The election massacres are horrific.
Give the Kenyans peace.

Here's that curve
where I went into the snowbank twice last winter.
I would be sooooo embarrassed
to tell Denny and Dorretta
that it happened again.
Thank you for family and friends to share my shortcomings with.

Denny put the stonework in that ditch with his dad.
A local woman grew up
hiding from the communists
in a ditch during the Korean war.
Thank you for my life in America.

There's a lot of traffic on 322 today.
The top of the mountain must be pretty slippery.
I wonder if Shirley is in one of those vehicles.
God bless Shirley.

Put it in neutral to coast down the mountain--
I get braking on all four wheels
and save gas.
Give Paul and Katrina wisdom in their plans for next year.
If they have to drive more,
at $6/gallon,
gas will be a major consideration.

Stop at the Rockton post office for Mom's mail.
Help her to rejoice in this day. Me too.

I have now passed from the Susquehanna watershed
into the Allegany River watershed;
Rockton is on the eastern continental divide.
I remember visiting Colorado's divide,
when a tiny car drove up
and three guys unfolded out of it.
"This here's the continental divide.
That means half of the country is on this side,
and the other half's on that side."
Then they refolded and zoomed away.
Help my stupidity to not be too obvious.

The frost and light snow are on every tiny branch.
Luke used to call this a "magic day."
God, give Luke a big hug today.
Let him feel your breath.

There's the little cross where Marion Miles died.
God bless her grandchildren.

I'm passing the bus station.
Bus stations always make me sad.
May something good happen to that guy
when he gets to his destination.

There's Riverside's enormous flag.
I think that's the biggest flag I've ever seen.
Except maybe Fort McHenry in Baltimore.
God bless the people who serve in our military forces
and their families--
Jeremy
and Kasey
and Steph
and Luke
and the other Luke
and all Luke's friends--
and our Baltimore friends.

I'm almost to school.
God, put your hand on my family today.
Oh, and please heal that guy
that was in the accident in Tanzania.
Why is it that my thoughts are so often selfish?
What was that C.S. Lewis poem?
"... I am mercenary and self-seeking though and through...
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin.
I talk of love, A scholar's parrot may talk Greek.
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin...."
I probably didn't get that right.
Hold my mind together.
Me again.

Parking lot. Take the keys.
It's crunchy cold. I love it!
Yessss!
And amen.