Ian and I went to the DMV today and got his learner's permit. I have so many mixed feelings about it...
Where did the time go? Wasn't it just last week he was 3# 9oz and struggling to breathe? Or yesterday that he broke his elbow playing touch football? All of a sudden, he's driving and graduating from high school.
Time flies when you don't know what you're doing.
Friday, December 29, 2017
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Washed Away
One of my family's legends is that my great-grandfather was a rooftop survivor of one of the great floods in Pennsylvania. I'm not sure of the year or the town (it depends on who is telling the story). I picked up this nook book through Barnes & Noble to start my flood history education.
I'm having trouble putting this book down. It is told chronologically and separated into sub-chapters by town. It details the lives of the people who both survived and succumbed to the great flood waters at that time. It is interesting, and more often than not, heartbreaking.
I cannot imagine the fear those people must have experienced seeing the waters rise within hours of surviving a tornado outbreak.
I found this map of the area affected by the tornadoes and floods in 1913:
 |
| Credit to: http://brisray.com/flood/flood1.htm |
(This website, http://brisray.com/, has a well-organized library of pictures/postcards of the flood areas at the time.)
I'm halfway through the book, and I recommend it.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Dining Experience
A couple months ago, Steven and I decided to go for Chinese takeout at my favorite little local eatery. We stood behind a couple completing their 'to go' order. After the couple left, the little old lady behind the counter was FURIOUS. "He never pay! Every time they come, he never pay! She pay all the time! He Deadbeat!"
Well, you had better believe Steven and I, in a silent joining of the minds, decided that was not the night for me to treat him to dinner. He had his wallet out before we even ordered. Fast forward to this evening...
Steven is working and Ian is hanging with his buddies tonight, so I was left to fend for myself for dinner. I decided that I haven't had Chinese takeout in a while, so I walked over to get my Chicken Chow Mein to go. The little old lady was behind the counter again. I gave my order, and she said, deadpan, "Okay. Give me all your money." I started laughing, and she said, "That good, right?" and I said, "Yes - for you!" She began laughing too, and I realized this was the first time in all these years I've been their customer that I've ever seen her so much as smile.
I was alone in the restaurant and sat at a table waiting. All of a sudden she yells, "Okay! Goodbye!" I laughed again and thanked her, and she launched into a chorus of "Bye Bye Love" as I grabbed my bag. I sang with her as I was leaving, and here it is, three hours later, and I'm still laughing.
I don't even know her name, but I love her!
Well, you had better believe Steven and I, in a silent joining of the minds, decided that was not the night for me to treat him to dinner. He had his wallet out before we even ordered. Fast forward to this evening...
Steven is working and Ian is hanging with his buddies tonight, so I was left to fend for myself for dinner. I decided that I haven't had Chinese takeout in a while, so I walked over to get my Chicken Chow Mein to go. The little old lady was behind the counter again. I gave my order, and she said, deadpan, "Okay. Give me all your money." I started laughing, and she said, "That good, right?" and I said, "Yes - for you!" She began laughing too, and I realized this was the first time in all these years I've been their customer that I've ever seen her so much as smile.
I was alone in the restaurant and sat at a table waiting. All of a sudden she yells, "Okay! Goodbye!" I laughed again and thanked her, and she launched into a chorus of "Bye Bye Love" as I grabbed my bag. I sang with her as I was leaving, and here it is, three hours later, and I'm still laughing.
I don't even know her name, but I love her!
Saturday, June 10, 2017
Dead Men's Dust
Excellent read! I do love murder and mayhem (in fiction, that is). This is Matt Hilton's debut novel. Although I thought the story started off slow, after the first chapter or so, I could not put this book down. The synopsis from Amazon says:
The electrifying debut of ex-military officer and all-around tough guy Joe Hunter, who is on the trail of his missing and estranged brother . . . and the madman who may have taken him.
Sunday, March 05, 2017
Michael
There are people in this world who are truly alone, who have no one to share their thoughts, feelings, and lives with. Years ago, I thought I was one of them. When I left my parents' religion on my 18th birthday and they asked me to leave their home, I felt I was unintelligent, unworthy, unwanted, and truly, desperately alone. As the years passed, my brother and I opened communication between us, and although we were not without our problems and baggage, I realized he was the one person in my chaotic existence I could count on.
I think the life event that changed my thinking about my feelings of self-worth was the death of my mother. When she passed, Michael stayed with Ian and me for a few days. After the service, we talked for hours, and I came to see that many of the things I was going through and had been though in my life, he had forged the path for many years previously. His knowledge and wisdom, shaped by time and experience, was ahead of me and there for the asking. Although I suspected I was not alone in my life experience, or really alone at all, that night I came to believe it.
Michael is there for me, even though he is 3,000 miles away. He's the first one I call, as he puts it, "when shit goes sideways." When the going gets tough, the tough call Michael.
I used to have a Chevy Cavalier. One day, it quit. Just quit. Ian was still young enough to be in a car seat, and I had no idea what was wrong with the car. I let it sit, and she started up again, only to completely again quit a few feet down the road. The gauges looked okay, she wasn't smoking, the tires were still round, and nothing was dripping, so I was clueless. An uneventful drive home from the daycare center usually took about 15 minutes, but that day, it took 2 hours. It never occurred to me to call for a tow or call a mechanic...I called Michael.
"Hmm. Let the car cool down for a couple hours. Get a rag, a flashlight, and a screwdriver, and call me back at 8:00 your time."
From Seattle, he walked me though fixing my car. I learned from him that an engine needs three things to work: fuel, oxygen, and air. A leaf had somehow gotten caught in a place that was cutting off air flow to the engine. He may say it's just basic science; I know he is Obiwan.
A straight-A student in school, it never occurred to me that I might fail a course. Cost and Managerial Accounting changed that. A single mom, working full-time, I was putting myself through college to get a degree. Granted, I was a little tired and a bit stressed, but I failed the final exam for CMO1 six times. SIX. Times. CMO1 was the only thing standing between me and my baccalaureate. I called Michael.
"Hmm. Send me everything. I'll get back to you."
When I'm thinking straight, unencumbered by emotion and exhaustion, I tend to think in math. It's a beautiful language, orderly, logical, and sometimes humorous. It makes sense to me. Try as I might, I could make no sense of CMO1.
I sent him everything. The first day crawled by. I reasoned with myself to settle down. Michael will fix it. He has a life. Give him time.
The second day crawled by. I continued reasoning with myself. Settle down. You sent him the entire 900 page e-textbook and all your papers and assignments. Everything is going to be okay. Sleep with the phone. He needs a minute to read everything. Reasoning was quickly approaching a fatal end at the hands of emotion.
The third day crawled by. By the end of that day, reasoning completely failed me. I was checking my email every three minutes. All I could think was oh, god, I've killed him. Any minute the phone is going to ring and Camille is going to tell me it's my fault he's dead. I couldn't stop crying.
Looking back, all I can say is ... sheesh. There's probably medication for that.
After an eternity (about 76 hours, real time, but who was counting?), the email came, and Michael's first line was, "Think of the profit margin as a tangent line on a circle." Everything clicked into place. Not only had he read everything I sent him, he translated it into my 'native language'. I passed the exam with flying colors the seventh time I took it.
Michael moved to Seattle in 2000, and countless times over the years I've called him. When I got my Masters Degree, and when my son started using drugs. When I got my job teaching 7th grade math, and as recently as last week when I got the news that my Aveo was at death's door. I've forgotten the time difference and called him at the crack of dawn. I've called him with good news and bad, when I'm so happy I have to tell him or my head will explode, and when tragedy strikes and I can't stop crying.
Sometimes I think that when he sees the 716 area code come up on his phone, he probably looks for a place to sit down and brace himself. But he is always the deep voice of reason when my limbic system threatens anarchy. As soon as I hear, "Hmm..." I know it's going to be okay. I'm not alone.
I never really have been.
I think the life event that changed my thinking about my feelings of self-worth was the death of my mother. When she passed, Michael stayed with Ian and me for a few days. After the service, we talked for hours, and I came to see that many of the things I was going through and had been though in my life, he had forged the path for many years previously. His knowledge and wisdom, shaped by time and experience, was ahead of me and there for the asking. Although I suspected I was not alone in my life experience, or really alone at all, that night I came to believe it.
Michael is there for me, even though he is 3,000 miles away. He's the first one I call, as he puts it, "when shit goes sideways." When the going gets tough, the tough call Michael.
I used to have a Chevy Cavalier. One day, it quit. Just quit. Ian was still young enough to be in a car seat, and I had no idea what was wrong with the car. I let it sit, and she started up again, only to completely again quit a few feet down the road. The gauges looked okay, she wasn't smoking, the tires were still round, and nothing was dripping, so I was clueless. An uneventful drive home from the daycare center usually took about 15 minutes, but that day, it took 2 hours. It never occurred to me to call for a tow or call a mechanic...I called Michael.
"Hmm. Let the car cool down for a couple hours. Get a rag, a flashlight, and a screwdriver, and call me back at 8:00 your time."
From Seattle, he walked me though fixing my car. I learned from him that an engine needs three things to work: fuel, oxygen, and air. A leaf had somehow gotten caught in a place that was cutting off air flow to the engine. He may say it's just basic science; I know he is Obiwan.
A straight-A student in school, it never occurred to me that I might fail a course. Cost and Managerial Accounting changed that. A single mom, working full-time, I was putting myself through college to get a degree. Granted, I was a little tired and a bit stressed, but I failed the final exam for CMO1 six times. SIX. Times. CMO1 was the only thing standing between me and my baccalaureate. I called Michael.
"Hmm. Send me everything. I'll get back to you."
When I'm thinking straight, unencumbered by emotion and exhaustion, I tend to think in math. It's a beautiful language, orderly, logical, and sometimes humorous. It makes sense to me. Try as I might, I could make no sense of CMO1.
I sent him everything. The first day crawled by. I reasoned with myself to settle down. Michael will fix it. He has a life. Give him time.
The second day crawled by. I continued reasoning with myself. Settle down. You sent him the entire 900 page e-textbook and all your papers and assignments. Everything is going to be okay. Sleep with the phone. He needs a minute to read everything. Reasoning was quickly approaching a fatal end at the hands of emotion.
The third day crawled by. By the end of that day, reasoning completely failed me. I was checking my email every three minutes. All I could think was oh, god, I've killed him. Any minute the phone is going to ring and Camille is going to tell me it's my fault he's dead. I couldn't stop crying.
Looking back, all I can say is ... sheesh. There's probably medication for that.
After an eternity (about 76 hours, real time, but who was counting?), the email came, and Michael's first line was, "Think of the profit margin as a tangent line on a circle." Everything clicked into place. Not only had he read everything I sent him, he translated it into my 'native language'. I passed the exam with flying colors the seventh time I took it.
Michael moved to Seattle in 2000, and countless times over the years I've called him. When I got my Masters Degree, and when my son started using drugs. When I got my job teaching 7th grade math, and as recently as last week when I got the news that my Aveo was at death's door. I've forgotten the time difference and called him at the crack of dawn. I've called him with good news and bad, when I'm so happy I have to tell him or my head will explode, and when tragedy strikes and I can't stop crying.
Sometimes I think that when he sees the 716 area code come up on his phone, he probably looks for a place to sit down and brace himself. But he is always the deep voice of reason when my limbic system threatens anarchy. As soon as I hear, "Hmm..." I know it's going to be okay. I'm not alone.
I never really have been.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
The Lord Giveth...the Lord Taketh Away
Talk about a day when I didn't know whether to laugh or cry...
Steven called me. His father passed away today, and he will be heading down to the Carolinas to be with family during this difficult time. I feel so bad for him. I know when my father passes, I'll be a mess. I'm going to miss him terribly while he travels.
I hung up the phone with him, and within one minute, my phone rang again. It was my nephew Andy. Carlie is pregnant! They are expecting their child around September 25th. I am so excited for them!
Life does have a way of throwing curve balls. I'll cry for Steven while I crochet for the baby.
Steven called me. His father passed away today, and he will be heading down to the Carolinas to be with family during this difficult time. I feel so bad for him. I know when my father passes, I'll be a mess. I'm going to miss him terribly while he travels.
I hung up the phone with him, and within one minute, my phone rang again. It was my nephew Andy. Carlie is pregnant! They are expecting their child around September 25th. I am so excited for them!
Life does have a way of throwing curve balls. I'll cry for Steven while I crochet for the baby.
Monday, January 30, 2017
Wednesday, January 04, 2017
Pleasure
One of my students has been in this country for less than six months, and as we all know, English is one of the hardest languages to learn. I help him all I can, and I'm glad that he feels comfortable with me to ask questions that are not necessarily related to math, but to science and ELA as well.
He came up to me after class to ask me what pleasure meant, only he didn't say "pleasure". He made it four syllables with his vowels all long. It sounded something like plee - a - su - ree. It took me a second, because I knew he was saying the word he was reading phonetically. "Oh! Pleasure!" I said, "It's something that you enjoy, makes you feel good, happy."
"Pleasure," he said, a couple of times, trying it out and thinking hard. "Miss?" He paused again, and I could see his wheels turning. And then he gave me a big smile. "Miss, I pleasure this class math."
My favorite student now, hands down.
He came up to me after class to ask me what pleasure meant, only he didn't say "pleasure". He made it four syllables with his vowels all long. It sounded something like plee - a - su - ree. It took me a second, because I knew he was saying the word he was reading phonetically. "Oh! Pleasure!" I said, "It's something that you enjoy, makes you feel good, happy."
"Pleasure," he said, a couple of times, trying it out and thinking hard. "Miss?" He paused again, and I could see his wheels turning. And then he gave me a big smile. "Miss, I pleasure this class math."
My favorite student now, hands down.
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