In Memorium

Today I went to a funeral service for an old high school teacher, Mr. Fout.

Honestly, I was disappointed with the service. It felt to me like a political scheme on behalf of Mr. Fout's church to proselytize to the 1500 people there to mourn. The funeral was directed at his family and church, neglecting half the crowd who turned up: students and colleagues.

Now, it isn't that I have a problem with the funeral being directed to his family and church because there's no doubt in my mind (especially not after the service today) that those two entities were huge in Mr. Fout's life. I just think that since he had been an educator for 25 years and because the funeral was open to the public and because the public showed up in huge numbers and because the service was held at the high school gym that there should have been some recognition of the people who filled that part of his life. You know, rather than four prayers, including one where people were supposed to give their lives to Jesus and ask Jesus to come into their hearts so they too could go to Heaven, and two pauses for poorly dubbed church music. I was genuinely surprised there was no communion.

And so, because there was little opportunity for people to express their heartfelt appreciation for Mr. Fout, here is mine.

Dear Mr. Fout,

Thank you for being fun and engaging and supportive for three tough years of my life. I always knew your classroom was a place I could go when I needed help, ideas or a laugh. Most of all, thank you for being the best male role model in my daily life for so long, giving me love in your teacherly way, because whether you knew it or not, I wasn't getting that at home.

Just before I entered the large auditorium to receive my high school diploma I saw you helping organize students, straightening tassels and giving everyone high fives and slaps on the back. I went up and hugged you, crying. I was upset because at that moment I realized I was really moving on. I was upset because I thought I would never see you again. You told me that I would see you again - you promised. You said that with my drive and aptitude and intelligence I would do something great and that our great paths would be sure to cross again.

Well, I saw you again today. It wasn't in the context I had hoped for, but it did give me hope. I hope that I can have an impact on people the way you did - that they will remember me with the same fondness we remembered you with today.

Thank you again for trusting me, for humoring me and for telling me to go ahead with all my plans that probably sounded at first a little nutty. You’re right – I plan to do something great. I plan to be as inspirational and helpful as you were for me and to never give up on my own dreams and never give up on a student’s either.

Welcome Home Lucy!

Lucy contracted Parvo - a nasty puppy virus that has serious potential to kill - and has been staying at the vet's for the last two nights with an IV in her arm to give her fluids. But today she gets to come home again! The clinic has taken great care of her so she's doing well and her strength is back. We've missed her around here!

I've decided I never want to raise another puppy.

Lucy is still working on potty training, leash training, gathering enough courage to run down the stairs, and learning not to chew Mom's favorite dress shoes. Meanwhile, we haven't had to go through any of this in a year and a half because Radley is that much older and has it all down pat. I didn't realize how wonderful it was that we had a dog in our house who knew where things were kept, how to get himself put outside, what to do when there's a problem, and how to behave when we have company over.

Having Lucy around has made me realize that when we finally decide we're ready to have kids, we're having them close together. I do not want to get one kid trained to not pee on the carpet and not chew my shoes just to turn around and start it all over again years later.

Women's Fitness Celebration

Yesterday, Kathy and I did the Women's Fitness Celebration - a 5k around downtown Boise that raises money for local non-profit groups. This year the 5k became the largest 5k in the nation with more than 14,000 women and girls participating.

The energy was incredible and the whole event was just fun. Kathy and I are already planning to do another 5k next month. We ended up running the whole thing, even though neither of us thought we would. I think it has psyched K up for his half marathon in November too. Who knows - maybe I'm becomming a runner!

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Her name is Lucy.

Yesterday I took her to the pet supply shop to pick her up a toy that is just hers. While there, a little girl - no more than five years old - sat on the floor and started playing with and petting my new pup.

"Good gir, Lucy," the girl said. "I love you, Lucy. Your fur is sooooo soft, Lucy."

Hearing my pup being referred to by a name was odd, since she didn't yet have one.

"We haven't given her a name yet," I told the little girl with red hair. "Are you calling her Lucy because you think she looks like a Lucy?"

From her cross-legged position on the cement floor of Zamzow's, the girl looked up at me with wide eyes and nodded. In a tone that indicated that I should have known better, she said, "That's her name."

When I relayed the story to K, he said, "Well, if that's her name then I guess that's what we should call her. Welcome to the family, Lucy!"

Thank you, stranger child, for naming our new puppy.

Radley's little sister.

K and I went to the Hyde Park Street Fair today - just an annual neighborhood event where businesses and vendors set up in the park and hippies peddle their wares. The Human Society was there with a 12-week old border collie pup who we fell in love with. We've been talking a little about getting Radley a playmate - especially now that we're both away from home more often during the day - but never did anything fairly serious about it. But when we met her, we thought maybe she was the one. We came home and picked up Radley so he could meet her and took him back to the park. They seemed to get along all right and there was no outward hostility - plus, she seemed to remember me and K when we returned.

So...Long story short, we brought her home with us today.



She's had a long day, so she's in the front room sleeping on the carpet.



I think she may also be resting from Radley picking on her so much already.



She was trying to cuddle Radley in the car on the way home, almost leaning over to him and sleeping on his shoulder. He just looked at me as if to say, "Mom, please make her stop. She's touching me!" So far she seems to be fitting in well. I'm sure she and Radley have a lot of figuring out to do, but they'll make it.

Obviously, we don't yet have a name for her. We've kicked around a few ideas, but nothing that has really jumped out at us yet. We figure that the perfect name will just come to us like an epiphany while meandering through the forest. Or something like that.

Just call me Doc.

Sandra told me about a marathon in Boise and so I told K about it. K is up to the challenge. He's going to start off with running a half marathon this first time to see how he likes it and then will perhaps work his way toward a full marathon. The first event is the City of Trees Marathon and Half Marathon on November 5. To make sure K is prepared for the event, I have taken on the role of his personal trainer. I created a training schedule based on research I have conducted on line through a multitude of marathon training websites that should increase his stamina and endurance enough in the following eight weeks for him to sustain a decent time during the event. We have no goals just yet since yesterday was technically the first day of training, but will evolve them soon. This is exciting for both of us: he likes to push his body and I like to stretch my brain. We both get something out of marathon training! I'll be working out with him and running with him, of course, but I'm undecided about attempting the race. I may sit this one out as the cheerleader and try the next one. I'm much more comfortable with that process rather than just jumping in.

Since I've taken on the Yoda role in this process, K has made a joke of calling me Doc, from the old Nintendo boxing video game Punch Out.



I think there's a direct resemblance, don't you?

I had to dry my clothes in the dryer today.

The fires around Boise are so bad right now that I haven't seen the sky in a week - maybe longer. For the last couple nights, the moon appeared in the sky as a bright orange ball and last night during sunset the sun peeked through the haze for a brief ten minutes, fuschia and not at all painful to stare into because of the thick layer of burnt trees in the air. Everything now reeks of campfires, only without the added bonus of toasted marshmallows and chocolate. For probably two weeks now there has been a mandatory no-burn regulation instituted in the area and last week they started advising against small children or the elderly being outside or anyone who has asthma. The Boise school district cancelled all outdoor sports practices all week.

All this also means that I could not use the gentle breeze and waning summer sun to dry my clothes today, lest they should all emit a burnt-tree odor as well.

Where is my blue Boise sky? Where is my comforting mountain-inspired air? Come back freshness! Return to me clarity! Wash over me with your opennes and let me inhale your cleanliness!

25

K took me to Portland for the weekend; he surprised me with the trip for my birthday. On Friday evening we hung out with his parents and went to the best Mexican restaurant in the universe. Saturday was his family's annual men's golf tournament, so he participated in that and ended up in a tie for third - which is great considering he's only golfed four times since we met. Sunday morning he woke me up a little before five and drove me out to the middle of nowhere. It was worth it. We went on a hot air balloon ride over the area.



We were up in the air for about an hour. After that his parents met us for a tour of eight wineries in the Wilamette valley.



Then he and I went to an old historic hotel for the night. First we took a nap but when we woke up we toured the hotel learning about its history chronicled in the art pieces that cover the place. Monday was his parents' annual Labor Day BBQ so we hung out with the family and visited. And then we're back this morning. It was a very full weekend, but it was tremendous fun. Thanks to everyone who remembered me on my 25th birthday with phone calls and text messages - Bethany (always the first one), Tera, Rheanon, Mom et al., and Patri. Special thanks to K's family for the celebration and to Kathy for remembering me all the way from her Chicago vacation. But the biggest thanks ever goes to K, the amazing planner of surprises.

How does language shape us?

My class blog is up and running, if anyone wants to check it out: How does language shape us?. My students this semester are far more on top of posting comments than my students were last semester. So far they're even more on top of it than I am. I think this group this semester is going to keep me on my toes.

Thanks

Thanks to my wonderful, amazing and loving husband, I had the best surprise birthday party of my whole life last night - a luau theme with tons of friends and my crazy family. My brothers and my neice shot everyone with marshmallow guns (I just finished cleaning the remaining marshmallow residue off my hardwood floors) and the boys wrestled with all Kelly's fraternity brothers. Denisha stole drinks from people when they weren't paying attention, but my mom said she didn't appear to have a hangover this morning. I found out that a great number of people have been hiding party plans from me and lying to me for a couple weeks. I like that they would go to those lengths for me; it makes me feel loved. Thanks also to Vince who worked for me last night. Evidently he knew why he was working for me, but never let on either.

Check-up

So sorry about the humongoid size of all those photos. I don't like the way blogger loads photos (because it in fact doesn't load them at all) so I did it another way that evidently posts the pictures in astronomical proportions.

Monday was the first day of school. I guess I'll like my classes all right. It almost seems at this point that the classes are just there as filler, reinforcing things we've already learned in other classes. Being in a cohort-type atmoshpere, even though it isn't an actual cohort, is really cool because I have many of the same people in many of my classes. Sandra, my super cool office mate and friend, is in all my classes (or is hoping to be if that tricky linguistics course works out right), which I love because that gives me an excuse to spend more time with her and therefore make us better friends. It's very different from the classes that I teach; in the grad courses when someone isn't there, there's at least two other people in the class who know why that person isn't there and what that person is up to and whether or not the teacher can expect to see that person in the future. In the beginning writing classes that I teach, no one knows anyone else and they all give me the impression that they couldn't care less about it.

Teaching is going well. My 102 class seems well-integrated into the school atmosphere already. My 101 class, however, has no idea how to behave in the college setting; they're still very high school-ish about things. I'm just looking at it as good training for my future as a high school or middle school teacher.

My spirits are up lately about being able to find a job next year. A few days ago I searched some of the district sites for this area. Many of them list no job openings, which I expected since school starts next week, but a couple of them still have the job postings on there from last year. The good news is that in the Meridian disctrict they hired six or seven (I can't remember now) English teachers and I know through the grapevine that the Boise district hired around that many also. And for all the high school listings, they state that they would prefer to hire someone who has experience working with at-risk kids. I have more experience working with at-risk kids through the shelter than anyone I know. I think I don't have as much to worry about as I once thought I did.

And on a final note, I have no idea where my comments section went. It disappeared when I posted those monstrously-sized photos. Maybe they'll turn up again soon.

One more final note...Thanks to K, who bought me a wildflower bouquet yesterday for my first day teaching.

Not since I was sixteen...

Yesterday, K and I went shopping for one pair of jeans each so that we have a nice new pair - me for school and him for work.

Well, I chose a random pair from the clearance rack at Banana that looked like nice jeans and weren't faded or pretorn, since those are the only kinds I can wear in a public school. I was skeptical, but K told me to just try them because at some point soon I will be able to wear eights again and I may as well see what they're like. Besides, he thought they would fit. Upset and prepared for a massive disappointment, I dragged them into the fitting room with me. But, to my amazement, they slipped on with no problem! They didn't gape in the back and they hugged without suffocating!

I haven't worn a size eight since I was sixteen. Lately, though, we've become so heavily involved with bettering our health and bettering our bodies that, like I said, we've trimmed and toned all over. We don't eat a lot of sugar, we never just sit and watch television, we work out every day, we use our bikes for transportation whenever humanly possible, we limit our drinking, we lift weights and we encourage each other daily to practice healthy lifestyle behaviors. It has been fabulous and it is just getting better.

This isn't so much about getting skinny as it is being healthy - so I don't want to hear from anyone that I didn't need to lose weight in the first place. True, I was and still am right about at a healthy weight. The problem that got me started paying attention was that my body fat percentage was a little too high, I didn't watch my sugar and fat intake like I should, and I was inconsistent about working out and lifting weights.

I look at my parents and I see two fat people, even though neither one of them is particularly over weight - especially my mother. I look at my whole family and I see a bunch of people who are incredibly out of shape and I know that as they age, their bodies will get sicker and less able to perform normal tasks. I don't want this for myself. I am still young enough that I can change my entire life by starting with my current lifestyle. I can make sure that I am healthy and prepared and I can get my body into a condition where it feels good all the time, not sluggish or out of sync with reality. I can tone up and lose unnecessary body fat that just gets in the way when I try on jeans and overall makes me feel down about myself. I can train myself to run faster and longer. I can build myself up to be able to lift my own suitcase into the overhead compartment on the airplane without heaving and without assistance. And I can still not understand all those people who tell me they can't live without soda pop, Easter candy and hamburger helper.

Plus, in a few years I would like to start having children and I know that being pregnant takes a definite toll on a woman's body. The weight of the baby and the physical strain on every aspect of a woman's health makes it difficult for many women to make it through pregnancy (and delivery) without too much pain, increasing irritability in both mother and father. Plus, as I get older before getting pregnant, it will be harder to lose the baby fat and regain my pre-pregnant figure. I refuse to be that woman who carries baby weight for the rest of her life, along with the flabby skin and stretch marks that won't ever go away. I refuse to give up on myself and instead donate every part of my personal humanity to my newborn child. What good is that baby's life if its mother is no longer a person, but instead a parasitic host?

I can think of no better way to be healthy and in shape later and for the rest of my life than to be healthy and in shape now. So here's to my all those people who say that it's too hard to "stick to a diet" whily they have a silver spoonful of triple ripple fudge sickle ice cream in their drooling mouths. You're all motivation to me.

T minus one measley week

Ahhhhh! School officially starts in a week from yesterday and I start teaching in a week from today. And I have no syllabus for my 102 class! That's my goal for this evening, but so many other things would be cooler to do...and I have no idea how I want to frame the class still! But I NEED to get it done! And blogging about it isn't getting me any closer to finished...

Diplomacy

Last weekend at our bed and breakfast we received quite the earfull from the proprietor about her gay neighbors.

Evidently, the two men moved in next door a year ago. They claim that she built on the property line and she claims that they have spread rumors about her around town and have stolen some of her irrigation water. To seal the deal, the two men built a pig pen on her side of their property, right behind the bathroom windows of two rooms in her bed and breakfast.

Saturday morning at breakfast when Sharon was relaying this story to me and Kelly in addition to a couple from Colorado, she explained that they were "like this" because they are gay - which means they're "just weird." Evidently, the fact that they're gay means - in her world - that everything is off in their world, that every abnormality in their lives is explainable by their sexual orientation. Hardly the time or place for a lecture or debate on acceptance, tolerance and bigotry (and not wanting to offend Kelly by being outspoken, as has happened in the past), I turned back around in my seat and finished my breakfast in silence, unable to acknowledge Sharon after that except to thank her for the meal. The other gentleman did the same. Kelly and the other woman did a nice job of continuing the conversation, which had grown tangibly awkward among those of us at the table, even though Sharon didn't seem to notice. I was intensely impressed (an perhaps a little envious) with the woman's ability to ask diplomatic questions and respond with nonapproving, yet nonjudgemental replies. The meal ended abruptly when Kelly "suddenly" realized that it was time for us to go to meet our river guides.

Before we left on Sunday, Kelly wrote Sharon a note of thanks for her hospitality that weekend and left a post script that said: Good luck with the situation with your neighbors. Take it easy on their lifestyle. We all need a little understanding now and then. I hope sincerely that Sharon reads this and thinks to herself "You know, maybe this is right. And you know what else? Maybe I need a little more understanding and maybe I'd like to be a little better understood." I doubt it, but I do hope that our attempt at diplomacy reaches her somewhere where she houses some openness and free thought.

Hooray for Tera and Salmon!

Hooray for Tera! She brought her crochet hooks to work today so that I could borrow one to finish my blanket that I started seven years ago because I lost the one hook that I have. I was going to continue my granny square until it was a good size for a bed, but I'm stopping at the end of my current skein instead. It's about the size of a baby blanket. Since I expect that some day down the road I will have a baby, it will be appropriate to have a blanket on hand. Besides, I've had an unfinished blanket sitting around doing nothing for seven years; I may as well keep a finished blanket for a few more years.

Hooray for Salmon! Kelly and I leave tomorrow for Salmon in eastern Idaho for a weekend at a bed and breakfast and a raft trip down the Salmon River. It will be so great to have a little break and see a new part of the state.

Six seconds of my life

The woman next to me has an answer - the answer.

Excitedly, she raises her arm and her high-pitched, Fran Drescher voice rings out: "Well, this is our brain expert right here. Go ahead, tell him what you told me." Her left hand made contact with my right shoulder in an effort of encouragement and her head nodded wildly, lightly curled hair bobbing in tandem against her forehead. Yes, I told her a little about basic brain structures. Yes, I revealed to her that I majored in psychology. Yes, I told her that I once held a research assistantship with the Idaho Neurological Institute. But this was during our peer time, during our group discussion time. This wasn't during the time that I was trying to show off or stand out. This wasn't information I intended to share with thirty other adults - thirty strangers - with whom I just wanted more than anything to belong, to fit in. I just wanted to be one of them - to be like them - not to be a wild individual capable of standing up to the teacher.

But the teacher, in response to the words "expert" and "go ahead" without a raised hand, but instead with a loud and excited voice, walked three steps in the direction of our table, eyebrows raised, nose pointed at my nose. He said nothing. He merely looked. He looked at me. He expected me to speak. He expected me to share wisdom with the rest of the class, perhaps wisdom he did not already contain or wisdom that would provide him with new information or a new perspective.

As the blood rushed to my head, warming my core and flushing my cheeks it brought a rush of thought to the forefront of my mind. None of it an answer. Nothing brilliant. All of it excuses for why I should not talk.

I don't know what she's talking about. I'm no expert. I was only a psychology major. My natural emphasis was in English - that's why I am here! My assistantship was only for a summer. And I never actually saw any brains. I was stuck in a lab the whole time reading old charts and stuffy medical books. I don't want to speak out. I don't want to speak up. I don't want to show off my knowledge. I just want to fit in, to be part of the crowd today. This is inappropriate. I don't even know what she is talking about. Wait, I can't say that. I can't give him an excuse. Look at him, his eyebrows are raised. He's waiting for something from me. Is he waiting for me to say something stupid? Is he waiting for me to correct him? Is he trying to check my arrogance? My creativity? My experience? My legitimacy? I have to say something. Say it like a student. Include her in the answer. If I include her in the answer, it isn't all about me and I stand out less.

I straightened up slightly in my chair, sweating in my tank top in the ice cold room, and opened my mouth to deliver what I hoped would sound like an eloquntly prepared response.

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BSWP

I recently took a class that was far more like summer camp than a class. Sandra, who mentioned it in a comment below, was my only saving grace in this endeavor. It was three weeks of people crying, talking about their miracle children (who were just normal kids with nothing special to boast), musing about their miracle spouses (who were just normal spouses with nothing special to boast), making "Where are the tissues?" jokes, turning EVERYTHING into some sort of sexual innuendo, and extolling the rejuvenating, inspirational qualities of the class. It was wretched. On the final day of class, it took them two full hours to say good bye to each other. Everyone needed thanked, and hugged and then someone had to take a picture and then someone else had something touching to say and then the box of tissues needed to be found and another "Where are the tissues?" joke erupted among the masses. For so much time during this class, I was acutely aware of the minutes of my life I was wasting - the minutes that I would never, never see again. There was some learning - about three hours a day after the first three days - but even that was touch and go. I took the class because a professor I trust told me that I would absolutely love it and that it would be instrumental in my teaching career. I took it because he somehow had me fooled into thinking it was free - something I learned was contrary to the truth 90% of the way through the class. But alas, it is over and I will never have those three weeks or that $700 again. And if someone sees this "internship credit" on my transcript or resume when I apply for teaching positions, what will I say to them? I will tell them it was inspirational, one of the most influential classes of my college career that has truly shaped the way I instruct a classroom.

I can understand why people like morphine.

Saturday I came down with the worst case of the stomach flu known to man. Since then, my days have been filled with sleeping, Kelly catering to my every need, sleeping, and trying to choke down a 200-per-day calorie diet. Add to that abdominal pains and the gross effects of the stomach flu and you have a fairly accurate idea of my misery lately. Sunday night Kelly and I went to the hospital because I was getting worse and was in such agony with pain and the inability to maintain even the smallest amount of water. They gave me morphine...atop other things that helped. It took away the pain and placed me in a happy, hazy place where I slept in utter content. There were no worries. All I knew was that Kelly was next to me and I was comfortable for the first time in two days. It was bliss.

So the next time you get down on that old woman who lives three houses away because she can't live without her next morphine fix, just understand that she's in a far, far better place than you could ever offer her for that length of time and smile knowing that she's happy and sleepy and has too little energy or care to fret over you.