I never realize how very vital internet access and my "friends" on here are to me until something like this happens. Cate (you can find her blog second from the top on that side bar over there) doesn't realize it yet, but she saved my hide this weekend.
I am a Sunday School teacher. Well... mostly I'm a Sunday School Helper. I work with two other adults in our 3-4 year old class. Mr. David, is the main teacher. He tells the story, and leads the kids in prayer before snack. Mrs. Pam usually does a craft with the kids. She's a mom of 6 grown children so she has a handle on herding them and settling disagreements. I mostly fix snack, play with the kids, help with the craft and take people potty. I'm the helper, usually. Occasionally though I become the craft lady. Mrs. Pam emailed me on Friday because she unexpectedly had to be out of town this weekend. So I had very little time to plan a craft that would rate up ther with the cool pasta necklaces she had been bringing to make and will bring next weekend. It didn't help that by the end of Friday I had forgotten about the email and only just remembered I needed something on Saturday night.
But this, thankfully, is where Cate comes in. Not long ago in Cate's blog she posted a link to a child friendly site Kiddley.com. There was craft on there Saturday that was just perfect for my class. And I must say they turned out great. There is just nothing like having 3 year olds prance out of class proudly displaying their hand-made "stained glass" suncatcher.
Oh the internet, how did I survive before it's invention?
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
The problem with blogging for me is that I can't think how to end my blog posts. I get them started and then I stop in the middle of them because I can't think of a good way to end them. It's a bit like writer's block (blogger's block?). I know people don't require you to elloquent ways of closing a blog post, but I feel like one should at least be coherent. And sometime when I start one they end up as endless rambling with no real point. And I am not happy with rambling. I want to write good..ahem... well.
The thing is unless I write about emotions and gushy stuff, I don't really have much to write about. I could tell you about work, but that's boring.
I could tell you about the amazing $1 squeeky fish from Target that has lasted longer than almost any stuffed dog toy we've every had. Beating out some $4 petstore bought ones by 3 to four days.
I could tell you about the annoying sales guy who was sitting with DH at our kitchen table when I came home from work today. But really all there is to say about that is that I didn't like his approach, we didn't particularly need his product, and he dropped names so when DH and I took a moment to "discuss it" what we really discussed was who was going to tell him "no" and show him to the door. But that's really about the only excitement there was today.
I could tell you about the funny real estate ad I worked on this morning. Well I found it funny anyway. It read "In well established neighborhood. Original owners still present." Do they come with the house? Are they buried in the back yard? See- well written language is important or else people get the wrong ideas about stuff. That's my point!
Well... no... that's my excuse. That's why I don't blog much. yep. It all comes down to an affection for the written word. The feeling that a blog post should have a beginning, middle and an end. I frustrate myself in that I don't type in full sentences. I don't talk in full sentences, I guess, therefore I don't write in them. But most of all I can't come up with ends for my posts. I start off good, dwindle in the middle and then nothin. No ends meeting. No ends justifying means. There just is no end to there being no ends for me. I search and I search but I just can't seem to come up with an end for some blog posts.
wait! what's that down there? Could it be?
I think it is...
Yes! It's the end!
The thing is unless I write about emotions and gushy stuff, I don't really have much to write about. I could tell you about work, but that's boring.
I could tell you about the amazing $1 squeeky fish from Target that has lasted longer than almost any stuffed dog toy we've every had. Beating out some $4 petstore bought ones by 3 to four days.
I could tell you about the annoying sales guy who was sitting with DH at our kitchen table when I came home from work today. But really all there is to say about that is that I didn't like his approach, we didn't particularly need his product, and he dropped names so when DH and I took a moment to "discuss it" what we really discussed was who was going to tell him "no" and show him to the door. But that's really about the only excitement there was today.
I could tell you about the funny real estate ad I worked on this morning. Well I found it funny anyway. It read "In well established neighborhood. Original owners still present." Do they come with the house? Are they buried in the back yard? See- well written language is important or else people get the wrong ideas about stuff. That's my point!
Well... no... that's my excuse. That's why I don't blog much. yep. It all comes down to an affection for the written word. The feeling that a blog post should have a beginning, middle and an end. I frustrate myself in that I don't type in full sentences. I don't talk in full sentences, I guess, therefore I don't write in them. But most of all I can't come up with ends for my posts. I start off good, dwindle in the middle and then nothin. No ends meeting. No ends justifying means. There just is no end to there being no ends for me. I search and I search but I just can't seem to come up with an end for some blog posts.
wait! what's that down there? Could it be?
I think it is...
Yes! It's the end!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
There are places I remember...
I remember hearing stories of when my sister was little and how after Christmas morning she would take all her gifts and rewrap them and put them back under the tree, unwilling to let the day end as it had to and return to everyday life. I always thought it was silly. But now with the reunion behind me I feel a bit the same. There was such a build up to it. Months of researching and looking for people, planning and arranging, chatting and communicating. And now, much like Christmas, the day has come with it's festivities and suprises and has passed as quickly as it came. You can't grasp days. You can't hold onto them. And much like Christmas, I'm relieved that it is over, because the stress has gone with it and I am utterly exhausted but yet at the same time I'm sad to see it go. It seems awfully quiet again.
Sunday night after we returned from the reunion and took much needed showers, ( it had been horribly hot) DH and I collapsed into our bed at my parents' house. Well my body collapsed... but my brain... my brain went 90 miles a minute for the rest of the night. Replaying and rewinding conversations and moments of the day, checking and rechecking that things had been done and packed, lamenting people who hadn't come who I had really wanted to see again, regretting things that I wanted to say but did not know how to put into words, wishing I had taken more photos. Feeling bad for a couple of friends who I wasn't able to accomodate their schedule well and they had to leave early to be at another event.. unfortunately they left before the group portrait. I'm going to try to photoshop them in using another picture I got of them there.. but I still feel like a schmuck for not thinking of taking it before they left. I don't think I slept well at all that night. I woke up exhausted and remain that way today.
We drove back yesterday. A long 5 1/2 hours back. DH and I agree that the trip home always seems so much longer than the trip there. We had good conversations though. We talked about the next big trip that we have planned, we talked about the future and where in between my family and his family we might could live. We chatted about the bathroom and Pedro's offer to help us fix it when next they come to visit. We chatted about the difference between Indiana corn fields and TN cornfields (he was raised a Hoosier). He watched/I listened to the movie "Robots" on his laptop. When we go home we unloaded and then went to pick up the dog from boarding and dinner from Wendy's. We spent the rest of the night trying to unpack. We still have a ways to go. How can going away for a long weekend cause such havoc on a house? I took several containers of cookies with me to work this morning. We are all munching away on reunion left overs. Tonight DH and I will have pork chops, the only thing I had in the house that goes well with left over cole slaw and biscuits.
I felt bad for Former. He had gotten food poisoning on the way down to the reunion from eating Subway. Food poisoning is never good to get, it is worse when you are riding a motorcycle. Did... I didn't think of it then, but that is probably why he looked so rough and worn down. He doesn't normally look so tired. I worried on the way down and the way back up about him on that stupid bike. I hate motorcycles. I've known too many people injured or killed on them. But I also know many who love them and who have never had any incidents... but still. It is not that I don't trust that he'd be careful on it, it's that I don't trust other people to see him. If people can run into the back of a big ol' Subaru that they "didn't notice was stopped" how much more could they miss a motorcycle. But I have to remind myself that he isn't mine to worry over any more. I just wish there was someone else in his life right now that I know would worry for me. I keep thinking I should set Former up with a girl I work with... but how do I go about doing that? "Hey, you wanna go out with a guy I dated about 7 years ago and am still close friends with?" ... yeah that would probably freak her out. I'm praying about it though. If God grants me an opportunity I will mention him to her, he has already agreed to let me set him up with someone if I ever come across any body... and swears he won't bear a grudge if it doesn't work out. And if God doesn't provide me an opportunity to set Former up with CoWorker, I hope He blesses Former with someone soon.
DH was a real trooper. Being the quiet, introverted man he is, he came to a reunion of many loud and extroverted people. But that wasn't the kicker. The kicker is that the reunion also contained 4 of my ex-boyfriends. 2 of which he already knew and gets along with pretty well and two he had never met. 3 of which played very significant roles in my life and lasted more than a week. May I just give kudos to my man for a moment. What a wonderful being he is to understand how much those relationships mean to me. To understand that I still love those guys but that they are no competition for him. He understands that they were gifts in my life that are a part of me and have made me the woman that I am. Or at least he seems to understand that. It is one thing for him to love me, but it is so much more to me that he can find it in his heart to also love those that I hold dear, even though he knows the ways that they hurt me or the mistakes I made with them. How many times has he bowed his head in prayer with me for a friend that he barely knows. God has truly blessed me with a wonderful and merciful man.
There is a Sara Teasdale poem that if you added in one extra love - would be the story of my life. It is actually called "Gifts"
It goes
I gave my first love laughter,
I gave my second tears,
I gave my third love silence
Thru all the years.
My first love gave me singing,
My second eyes to see,
But oh, it was my third love
Who gave my soul to me.
Now add in one more love amongst those and you'd have my history. I'd say I gave my first love laughter since we were really just kids when we "went out". I was in 7th and he was in 8th grade when we started "dating" and we "dated" until my 8th grade year. And he really did give me singing. In fact our first and really only date was to a "singing" at his church. He also was the first person to make me a mix tape. He was the first person I ever broke up with. He was getting too serious for me. I found out at the reunion that he though I left him for Former... I didn't start dating Former until 11th grade, I don't think I left him for anyone. But my memory isn't that good. Does anyone else find it concerning that I'm talking about "dating" starting in 7th or 8th grade? That means I started dating when I was 13. My godchild is 10. That worries me now.
I don't think I gave my second love tears. I think I gave him innocence. He was quite a bit older than I was. We started dating when I was 15. My mother was freaked by the age difference, but she and my dad came to the conclusion that it was better for them to allow it and be able to monitor things than to disallow it and end up with me sneaking around. A pretty wise move on their part looking back on it. As much as I respected them and tried to obeyed them... I was completely caught up in the adventure and romance and in my youthful ignorance I probably would have rebelled to keep it going. My second love was my first french kiss, my first realization that life continued after 10 pm, he made me feel brave and he was my first heartbreak. I'd have to add in a line that says, "I gave my second love innocense" and in the second stanza say "My second love gave me heart"
It was my third love that I gave tears too. This would be Former. I didn't give them to him in the beginning, but about our third year of dating my horomones went crazy and I dropped into depression. Then he got tears. I got straightened out with medication and then the stress of school and past issues attacked him and he fell to depression as well and he gave me tears. By the end of our 4th year together we gave each other plenty of tears. But he gave me so much more than that. He really did give me eyes to see. He introduced me to so much. His leaving forced me to face myself and stand on my own.
But oh, it was my fourth love that gave my soul to me. DH has given me plenty of silence. He is the quietest man I ever dated. He talks once you get to know him, but when you first meet him he is quiet. And if he is mad he puts forth a painful silence. . And if he doesn't know how to comfort you... he is quiet - but his actions say a lot. I was empty when he met me. Broken-hearted through and through. He was suppose to be a mindless fling to fill that empty space. But without a word he became so much more. He was there.
Of course it wasn't just my loves that gave me gifts. My other friends there could be counted as gifts too. They all gave me so much and don't realize it. I wouldn't have had a social life in high school without that group. I wouldn't have had the self-esteem or nerve that I have now. I wouldn't have faced the trials, or conquered my fears if I hadn't had them to hold me up. Each of them gave me something. Each opened my eyes in some way. And I can never repay them. And I couldn't figure out how to say that at the reunion. I feared being looked at like a crazy woman if I stood on the table and said "You all are such a gift to me. You- you there, Farmwife, you did this for me. And you, Did, you did this for me. And Art- Art to do you realize, and Rumplestilzkin do you know......." and so fourth.
They are my gifts. Part of me wants to wrap them back up and put them under the tree again. But the other half is ever so happy to just enjoy and let it all go, getting back into my normal routine and my normal life and we'll see what other gifts come my way.
BTW, Farmwife's Mom, I'll try to do better with the posting... but I warn you, I'm not terribly interesting.
Sunday night after we returned from the reunion and took much needed showers, ( it had been horribly hot) DH and I collapsed into our bed at my parents' house. Well my body collapsed... but my brain... my brain went 90 miles a minute for the rest of the night. Replaying and rewinding conversations and moments of the day, checking and rechecking that things had been done and packed, lamenting people who hadn't come who I had really wanted to see again, regretting things that I wanted to say but did not know how to put into words, wishing I had taken more photos. Feeling bad for a couple of friends who I wasn't able to accomodate their schedule well and they had to leave early to be at another event.. unfortunately they left before the group portrait. I'm going to try to photoshop them in using another picture I got of them there.. but I still feel like a schmuck for not thinking of taking it before they left. I don't think I slept well at all that night. I woke up exhausted and remain that way today.
We drove back yesterday. A long 5 1/2 hours back. DH and I agree that the trip home always seems so much longer than the trip there. We had good conversations though. We talked about the next big trip that we have planned, we talked about the future and where in between my family and his family we might could live. We chatted about the bathroom and Pedro's offer to help us fix it when next they come to visit. We chatted about the difference between Indiana corn fields and TN cornfields (he was raised a Hoosier). He watched/I listened to the movie "Robots" on his laptop. When we go home we unloaded and then went to pick up the dog from boarding and dinner from Wendy's. We spent the rest of the night trying to unpack. We still have a ways to go. How can going away for a long weekend cause such havoc on a house? I took several containers of cookies with me to work this morning. We are all munching away on reunion left overs. Tonight DH and I will have pork chops, the only thing I had in the house that goes well with left over cole slaw and biscuits.
I felt bad for Former. He had gotten food poisoning on the way down to the reunion from eating Subway. Food poisoning is never good to get, it is worse when you are riding a motorcycle. Did... I didn't think of it then, but that is probably why he looked so rough and worn down. He doesn't normally look so tired. I worried on the way down and the way back up about him on that stupid bike. I hate motorcycles. I've known too many people injured or killed on them. But I also know many who love them and who have never had any incidents... but still. It is not that I don't trust that he'd be careful on it, it's that I don't trust other people to see him. If people can run into the back of a big ol' Subaru that they "didn't notice was stopped" how much more could they miss a motorcycle. But I have to remind myself that he isn't mine to worry over any more. I just wish there was someone else in his life right now that I know would worry for me. I keep thinking I should set Former up with a girl I work with... but how do I go about doing that? "Hey, you wanna go out with a guy I dated about 7 years ago and am still close friends with?" ... yeah that would probably freak her out. I'm praying about it though. If God grants me an opportunity I will mention him to her, he has already agreed to let me set him up with someone if I ever come across any body... and swears he won't bear a grudge if it doesn't work out. And if God doesn't provide me an opportunity to set Former up with CoWorker, I hope He blesses Former with someone soon.
DH was a real trooper. Being the quiet, introverted man he is, he came to a reunion of many loud and extroverted people. But that wasn't the kicker. The kicker is that the reunion also contained 4 of my ex-boyfriends. 2 of which he already knew and gets along with pretty well and two he had never met. 3 of which played very significant roles in my life and lasted more than a week. May I just give kudos to my man for a moment. What a wonderful being he is to understand how much those relationships mean to me. To understand that I still love those guys but that they are no competition for him. He understands that they were gifts in my life that are a part of me and have made me the woman that I am. Or at least he seems to understand that. It is one thing for him to love me, but it is so much more to me that he can find it in his heart to also love those that I hold dear, even though he knows the ways that they hurt me or the mistakes I made with them. How many times has he bowed his head in prayer with me for a friend that he barely knows. God has truly blessed me with a wonderful and merciful man.
There is a Sara Teasdale poem that if you added in one extra love - would be the story of my life. It is actually called "Gifts"
It goes
I gave my first love laughter,
I gave my second tears,
I gave my third love silence
Thru all the years.
My first love gave me singing,
My second eyes to see,
But oh, it was my third love
Who gave my soul to me.
Now add in one more love amongst those and you'd have my history. I'd say I gave my first love laughter since we were really just kids when we "went out". I was in 7th and he was in 8th grade when we started "dating" and we "dated" until my 8th grade year. And he really did give me singing. In fact our first and really only date was to a "singing" at his church. He also was the first person to make me a mix tape. He was the first person I ever broke up with. He was getting too serious for me. I found out at the reunion that he though I left him for Former... I didn't start dating Former until 11th grade, I don't think I left him for anyone. But my memory isn't that good. Does anyone else find it concerning that I'm talking about "dating" starting in 7th or 8th grade? That means I started dating when I was 13. My godchild is 10. That worries me now.
I don't think I gave my second love tears. I think I gave him innocence. He was quite a bit older than I was. We started dating when I was 15. My mother was freaked by the age difference, but she and my dad came to the conclusion that it was better for them to allow it and be able to monitor things than to disallow it and end up with me sneaking around. A pretty wise move on their part looking back on it. As much as I respected them and tried to obeyed them... I was completely caught up in the adventure and romance and in my youthful ignorance I probably would have rebelled to keep it going. My second love was my first french kiss, my first realization that life continued after 10 pm, he made me feel brave and he was my first heartbreak. I'd have to add in a line that says, "I gave my second love innocense" and in the second stanza say "My second love gave me heart"
It was my third love that I gave tears too. This would be Former. I didn't give them to him in the beginning, but about our third year of dating my horomones went crazy and I dropped into depression. Then he got tears. I got straightened out with medication and then the stress of school and past issues attacked him and he fell to depression as well and he gave me tears. By the end of our 4th year together we gave each other plenty of tears. But he gave me so much more than that. He really did give me eyes to see. He introduced me to so much. His leaving forced me to face myself and stand on my own.
But oh, it was my fourth love that gave my soul to me. DH has given me plenty of silence. He is the quietest man I ever dated. He talks once you get to know him, but when you first meet him he is quiet. And if he is mad he puts forth a painful silence. . And if he doesn't know how to comfort you... he is quiet - but his actions say a lot. I was empty when he met me. Broken-hearted through and through. He was suppose to be a mindless fling to fill that empty space. But without a word he became so much more. He was there.
Of course it wasn't just my loves that gave me gifts. My other friends there could be counted as gifts too. They all gave me so much and don't realize it. I wouldn't have had a social life in high school without that group. I wouldn't have had the self-esteem or nerve that I have now. I wouldn't have faced the trials, or conquered my fears if I hadn't had them to hold me up. Each of them gave me something. Each opened my eyes in some way. And I can never repay them. And I couldn't figure out how to say that at the reunion. I feared being looked at like a crazy woman if I stood on the table and said "You all are such a gift to me. You- you there, Farmwife, you did this for me. And you, Did, you did this for me. And Art- Art to do you realize, and Rumplestilzkin do you know......." and so fourth.
They are my gifts. Part of me wants to wrap them back up and put them under the tree again. But the other half is ever so happy to just enjoy and let it all go, getting back into my normal routine and my normal life and we'll see what other gifts come my way.
BTW, Farmwife's Mom, I'll try to do better with the posting... but I warn you, I'm not terribly interesting.
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