Santa Letter

The picture says it all - have a Merry Christmas everyone!

Love, Marci, Dave, Sophie, Lucy and John

He lifted me up...

Quite a few years ago, when I was nine months pregnant with Lucy, Dave achieved all-star status as a husband... and all because of Leg Lifts by Origins. Throughout the entire pregnancy I had a bad case of restless legs and the only thing that seemed to help was a liberal amount of Leg Lifts rubbed onto my calves. This was all fine and dandy until I got to 36 weeks and found myself rapidly running out of the magic potion. As I was already 1 cm dilated I thought things would be fine and just vowed to use a little less cream each time. Then came 37 weeks, 38 weeks, 39 weeks... and 40 weeks. No baby in sight, hardly any cream left, and no Origins store within five hours of us. I was way too cheap to buy a whole new tube and pay shipping and handling when I didn't think I'd need it after the pregnancy was over, so I just kept suffering. But after one particularly intense leg rubbing experience, I was in tears - there was no relief from the small amount of cream and I was overdue. That night, while I restlessly slept, Dave went online and ordered Leg Lifts - and had it overnight expressed to our house. So, for the next ten days until Lucy finally made her appearance, I used up tons of cream and thanked Dave each and every time.

Wrinkly Carrots

Just when I have begun to have confidence in myself as a cook, things go wrong. Years ago Theresa provided me with a fail-proof recipe that tastes wonderful. It’s basically a 4-5 pound roaster chicken stuffed with 8-10 garlic cloves and a wedged lemon and baked for a few hours. With an hour left of cooking time, I add cut up potatoes and carrots and while the chicken is cooling enough to cut, I make gravy out of the drippings. It’s one of those meals that’s perfect for impressing friends and relatives… but not so Wednesday night. We wanted to eat by 5 pm so we could spend the rest of the evening attending Las Noches de las Luminarias at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix.

In preparation, I preheated the oven and stuffed the chicken by 2:15 and then went off to read a book. At 3:30 I put the vegetables in a different roasting pan and went back to my reading. At about 4:45 Bev alerted me that all was not well… that the chicken, in fact, was quite raw. It was then we all (by now it was quite the family affair) figured out it should have been cooked at 325 degrees rather than the 250 that I had set the oven. We turned up the heat, cooked the potatoes and carrots and the microwave, and waited to eat until 6. So much for an easy-to-prepare, delicious dinner.

Throughout dinner Bev exclaimed over and over again how wonderful the meal was, Sophie said her carrots tasted wrinkly, and I wanted to sink in my seat. Next time I think I’ll follow the recipe.

Sad News

This morning I recieved word that the father of my friend Alice passed away. He'd had such a long hard struggle and fought so very hard - from his brave and stubborn struggle and Alice's stories I wish I would have known him before a drunk driver took away so much of his life. In some ways, when a close friend or relative struggles with every breath or every step, it's easier to cope with their loss. But this just seems so unjust - in September, 2005 he was hit by a drunk driver as he came home from finishing things up at work. The driver escaped without harm and fled the accident while Boots struggled to live. That struggle went on while he was transferred to Craig Hospital in Denver which specializes in helping people with traumatic injuries. As he worked through weaning from a ventilator and all kinds of other therapy many people prayed and prayed for him. Finally, about 15 months after his accident, he was flown back home and everyone was full of joy. Within days he was back at ICU and life support was withdrawn last night. He worked so hard for such a very long time and we all just wanted him to get better. Let's celebrate his life and all the joy it brought and please, remember Alice and the rest of his family in your thoughts and prayers.

Introducing the GKids Travel Blog

Before we left for our two-week vacation I spoke with both Sophie and Lucy's teachers and we thought a journal chronicling their adventures would be a wonderful homework assignment. They've always been (Sophie a bit more than Lucy) interested in my blog so I brought up a blog idea to Sophie and Lucy and they thought it would be great to have their very own blog. In Sophie's entries, I've helped her upload the pictures but she's been the main photographer. She's also done most of the typing by herself. We're all set up in James and Bev's office so I get her going and then go drink some more coffee and chat with the grownups as she composes. When she's tired out, she dictates to me and I do the typing. With Lucy she dictates everything to me and reads over my shoulder. Sometimes she gets to talking so fast I have a hard time keeping up. John is eager to get going so we'll make sure to include some if his thoughts too. So, if you're wondering what we're up to, through the eyes of the children, here goes... check it out with the sidebar link or go directly to it at gkidstravel.blogstpot.com

Over the hills and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go...

“Through the door and down the stairs, by the pool and across the parking lot, over the rocks and down the sidewalk, to Grandmother’s house we go”

When we visit Grandma Bev and Grandpa James in Arizona we stay at the “guest” condo a few blocks away from their house. Two years ago when we last visited at Christmastime we made up the above verse to the popular tune. Sophie and Lucy immediately memorized it and it helped give them landmarks to find their way. They still sing it whenever we head to Grandma and Grandpa’s and last year they taught it to John. Yesterday morning it was wonderful to hear him say, “Let’s do the Grandma thing!” and hear a chorus of “Through the door and down the stairs, by the pool…”

Christmas in Arizona

After 30 hours of straight through driving, we made it to Arizona by 10:30 Saturday night. I’m proud to say I accomplished 1/10 of the driving and 9/10 of the supervision. The kids did a fantastic job thanks to a lot of drawing paper, a new Playmobil Santa and his sleigh, and movies. Barnyard, a recommendation from Sophie’s 3rd grade teacher, was most definitely the biggest movie hit. The treats from Bridget and JR (Thank you, thank you, thank you!) helped provide a sugar high when the driving got to be too much. Grandpa James and Grandma Bev helped finish polishing them off and now we’re all looking for the recipe for the brownie cupcakes with the cream filling (hint, hint). We’re enjoying our time here – watching the Santa bikers, swimming, hottubbing, and drinking mighty strong coffee. We hope this finds you taking some time for yourself too.

Ballerinas

Who would have thought that a husband and wife team with four left feet could create some dancers? Not I! I gave jazz a try in highschool and was self conscious for every single minute, not to mention that I was totally off beat with all the other dancers. To this day I still cringe when I hear "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown." Dave, as well, is no dancing machine.

Sophie, Lucy and John love dancing - whether it's just around the living room floor to Shrek's CD or with their dance classes. Last night they both performed in the North Dakota Ballet Company's Holiday Show When You Believe. The smiles on their faces throughout each dance routine were unforgettable. Although we've had an extremely busy week with dance classes and show rehearsals, it all seems worth it.

So, if you're in town tonight, head to the Empire Theater at 7:30 pm to watch dancers from three to the mid-twenties dance their hearts out. You'll be glad you did.

Building Aggravation or “Careful, I’m in a Foul Mood as I write this.”

What is it with some men that they think they are the world’s greatest gift to all of the rest of us peons. I’ve put up with two electricians for three days and, even though they seem to have done great work, I know I’ll never have them back. In fact, I complained to my general contractor about their attitude. Disclaimer: My general contractor and most everyone else he hired have been wonderful. Not so for the electricians; one man in particular “checked” me out each and every time he walked by – this wasn’t even a subtle eye appraisal, rather it was a full-blown head to toe and head to toe once again. The first time I had just gotten dressed and wondered if I’d forgotten to put my shirt on. The second time I thought, “Man, this guy must be hard up if he’s checking me out.” And for every time since then, I’ve made sure to look him right in the eye so that when he gets to my face, which I’m not sure if he actually ever will, he sees that I know exactly what he’s up to.

The second guy is a charmer – acts all polite but you just have the feeling that the second you walk away he’s up to no good. He’s the one I complained to this morning when they kept flipping breakers without telling me. I politely said, “You know, you really should let me know before you flip any breakers – I’m going to be working on the computer so just let me know and I’ll save what I’m working on.” About three hours later, as I was writing a blog entry about knitting, one of the electricians headed down the stairs. I quickly copied my work, went to open Word to paste in the entry and save it but before I could even get Word open, the electrician flipped the breaker. One cuss word later, he was up the stairs where I greeted him in a not-so-polite manner. He was apologetic, but come on … all I asked for was a two-minute notice of when the breaker would be flipped. It really shouldn’t be so hard.

Another thing that bugged me is that there doesn’t seem to be any common courtesy on their part. This morning I got groceries after dropping the kids off. I carried in six bags from the car at one time right as the “check me out” guy came out the backdoor for his cigarette break. He said “Hi,” again not looking me in the eye and continued to walk past me. Uh , ok, let me just get the doors all by myself as you sit and enjoy your cigarette. It’s not like I was asking him to bring in the groceries and then put them away… I pretty much had my hands full and could have used a little help with the door, that’s all.

OK, now that I’m done complaining, maybe I can get back to the knitting entry and try to recreate it. Trust me – it’ll be more enjoyable to read than this one!

Today I am 40

Today I am 40 – but in the sense of Sandra Cisnero’s wonderful essay "Eleven" (Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories). I am not just forty but rather a combination of all the ages that have added to this. There’s the three year old in me who, when I’m wheezy or sick, wants to be held and comforted. Sometimes I feel like the eleven year old who raced back and forth across the infield of the track, cheering on all the runners – hooting and hollering for my sisters and every other runner. At times, I am still like the thirteen year old who tries to put on the “I don’t care what anybody thinks” attitude to the world outside but on the inside wants approval. I can still be the eighteen year old “know it all” who thinks life is just waiting to be handed to me and the nineteen year old who realizes, upon the sudden death of a friend, that life isn’t something to be taken for granted. Some days I’m like the self-centered twenty nine year old who would get frustrated when the day got too busy and at the end of it still didn’t have time to go running. Other days I’m like the thirty five year old mother of three children four and under who is so darn happy to have just taken a shower while all three kids napped. Some days I have the confidence of the twenty year old who saw her future husband playing volleyball and on the way home told a friend, “I think Dave G… should date me.” Then there’s times when I recall the sobs of a thirty four year old – the sobs that almost could be mistaken for laughter if the listener didn’t know better – and I remember the sense of loss and the building back of love and am so thankful that today I am 40. I’m three and I’m five and I’m fifteen. I’m twenty and twenty seven and thirty two. I’m thirty five and thirty six and thirty nine. I’m all of these, but today I am 40.

Breadmaking

I've been trying my hand at homemade bread - with varying degrees of success. For a while I was sure it was my Sunbeam mixer and believed that if I only had a brand new KitchenAid Professional Mixer things would be on the rise... especially my bread. After weeks of trying to justify spending between $200 and $300 on a new mixer when the 15 year old Sunbeam works just fine for every other baking need, I got over my impulse and set to work on figuring out just how to make good bread. Turns out the Sunbeam directions have a few recipes and when I tried them out they were delicious. At least I thought so. Not so with our five year old. John, upon trying a piece of beautifully browned, just-from-the-oven piece of bread, said, "I don't really like it; it's just too... homemade." Poor guy - having to eat homemade bread.

First Snow

We woke up to an inch of snow covering the leaves, plants, and sidewalks yesterday. John and Lucy were delighted and ran from window to window trying to see what everything looked like in the early morning sun. Sophie, on the other hand, was disappointed and grumpy. (I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact she didn't fall asleep until after 9:30 the previous night - HA!) All she could do throughout our entire morning routine was talk about how Halloween was ruined because now they'd have to wear boots and coats and nobody would really be able see their costumes. I reassured her time and time again that it would melt, that I didn't think the snow was here to stay but she insisted on staying grumpy - at least until I picked up the kids from school and she ran up to me and said, "You were right - the snow did melt!" All I could say at that point was, "Thank you Mother Nature, thank you, thank you."

Where did the young enthusiast go? The one who took her time strolling to the car, picking up snow in her mittened hands and putting it to her mouth? The girl who couldn't wait to drop off her sister at art class so the two of us could grab our skis and hit the cross country trails? Has my cynicism wore off on her - so that she too dreads the passing of fall and the diminishing of daylight? It isn't that I don't like winter - it is, in fact, one of my favorite times. Cross country skiing, sipping hot chocolate by the fire, and looking for rabbit tracks in the freshly fallen snow are all things the kids and I enjoy about winter. I guess it's time to remind ourselves that even though the end of autumn is approaching, winter really isn't all that bad.

And with that thought - here are some pictures of one young enthusiast, John. After dropping the girls off at school he immediately put on his snowpants and headed outside for some snowfun. It's wonderful how different the same swingset can be with just a little bit of slippery snow on it...

Fall at Turtle River State Park

No, I'm not talking about one of us taking a fall during our outing at Turtle River State Park. Rather, I'm talking about the autumn beauty that can be found there. In the middle of a hectic weekend which had Dave entertaining his out-of-town cousins and friends, me putting the final touches on a presentation that took place in Devils Lake on Monday, and various other weekend activities, the whole family managed to sneak out to Turtle River for a few hours on Saturday. It was wonderful - we chatted with a woman and her three young children fishing away and were just as delighted as her three year old daughter when she managed to catch a fish all by herself. We saw the guests arriving for an outdoor wedding that couldn't have asked for a more beautiful setting. And the five of us enjoyed a hike that seemed to go without a hitch... no bumps, bruises or crying. The kids are definitely growing up and it's great.

The Organizer

Yesterday, as Sophie was practicing her Grade 3 spelling words, she pointed to the word "organizer" and said she thinks of me every time she spells it. I'll take that as a compliment.

Mom Friends

Theresa and her kids have been a part of our lives ever since I was 9 months pregnant with Lucy and she was 7 months pregnant with Louis - we've been together for almost seven years through those pregnancies, subsequent miscarriages, two more pregnancies (John and Carmyn), life changes, house changes, toilet training, training wheels and no training wheels. She's like a second mom to our kids - one who as Sophie says, "She's different from you, she's more like 'outdoorsy'. I want to be a mom like her." If Theresa wasn't such a good friend, I might have taken offense to that. Instead, I think it's great. She's the mom who has the slack line in her backyard vs. a swingset, had a climbing wall in her old basement and now has a full-size one along with an ice climbing wall at the farm. She's the one who can teach Sophie the thrills of outdoor adventures while I sit on the sidelines cheering them both on. Aren't friends wonderful?!?!

Dog Dreams

Since spending a week in mid-August with the Buboltz clan and their yellow lab Sam, our kids have been hounding us for a dog. (Yes, the silly pun was indeed intended.) For about 24 hours I seriously considered it - putting out of my mind that both John and I are allergic to dogs and the fact that Dave has vehemently told me over and over again that he will have no part of the whole dog thing.

Still, from Sunday morning until Monday morning I persisted in my thinking - especially after we told Sophie that dogowners have to clean up after their dogs and she could practice by picking up the deposits a neighborhood dog left on our front lawn. She did it willingly and quite enthusiastically. Then came the dog-like behavior - the walking John around with a leash, the barking language, and the canine eating behavior. Although they've behaved as dogs (and occassionally cats) for quite a few years, it hit home that Sunday evening when all three kids filled up bowls with water and food, hunched down on all fours and began lapping up their dinner right from the kitchen floor. More barking came later, as bath and bedtime rolled around.

Thankfully 6 AM pilates came bright and early the next day. As I stumbled out of bed, pulled on some clothes, brushed my teeth and barely made it to pilates on time I realized one thing - if we had a dog I would have gotten up 20 minutes earlier, taken the dog for a morning walk, picked up any droppings, fed it and then taken care of myself.

There went the dog dreams - sorry kids.

Timber!

During each windstorm over the past year and a half I've worried about the tree in the backyard toppling down on top of us. Three strategically placed cables have held the entire tree together for the past ten or so years and with them in place the tree even withstood hurricane strength winds. Yet, with blue sky showing through the main trunk we weren't hopeful it could withstand North Dakota winds many more times.

So, after a full day's work, the worry is gone and there's no more tree - just a lot of wood that we'll (OK, maybe just Dave) be splitting, stacking and burning.

A Week's Transformation in House Renovation

In exactly one week, the kitchen has been transformed - and I'm loving it. Dave, on the other hand, seems to still be mourning the loss of his beloved counter. I hold out hope for him because of Sophie. She's the girl who, one week ago, kept marching through the kitchen stating, "No more construction, no more construction!" But her tune slowly changed, first when she went with her grandmother to see and purchase the nook (note to siblings - no it wasn't Mom's credit card) and then as she helped me do the painting. In fact, her tune has changed so much that when I talked to her on the phone this evening (she's with her grandparents taking part in a children's musical this week) the first question she asked was "How's it look?" followed by, "I can't wait to see it!"

The bad news is we've got another house project looming - and this one was not at all anticipated. I was just getting to the point of being pretty confident in my ability to complete projects on my own (including demolition, refinishing floors, paneling, sawing, caulking, and, of course, painting) but this one's way too big for me. Anyone know of some good bathroom remodelers?

How to Properly Eat Watermelon

Another Home Project...

Before Dave left on his trip, I warned him that the counter in the kitchen would be gone upon his return. He didn't believe me and was somewhat shocked last night when he called and Dad answered the phone. In response to Dave asking, "What are you up to?" Dad answered, "Well, we're just taking off that old kitchen counter." It took a few minutes (and Lucy and Sophie telling him it was indeed happening) for him to actually believe us and then, bless his heart, he just laughed.


I know where I get this impatience of mine - and sense of adventure when it comes to redecorating. It was quite evident from the moment Mom showed up yesterday afternoon with a picture of a breakfast nook table and bench to when Dad first took a knife to the mopboard of the counter to see if there was linoleum underneath it. That's when the action started. As soon as we figured out that there was in fact linoleum and the floor wouldn't need to be redone if we tore out the counter, we were off. As Dad started tugging on the countertop, Mom and I frantically cleared the counter and removed everything from the cupboards underneath. Then, as the demolition heated up, Mom and Sophie went to the furniture store to order the bench.


So, at this point, we have a cardtable in the kitchen where the counter used to be. Good riddance.

Lessons Learned from Grit Magazine

My first job, other than household chores such as cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming the stairs, was a newspaper route. Not one for a daily early morning daily commitment, I elected to deliver a weekly newspaper rather than a daily edition. I'm not sure how I came about this particular newspaper route, but Grit was the one for me. Each week I picked up a bundle of Grit magazines from the post office and set off on my bike to deliver them to my ever-loyal customers. Some weeks I was totally ambitious and got the papers delivered on the same day I received them; other weeks they sat in my closet for a day or two until my fourth grade lifestyle settled down enough to allow for delivery.

One time, however, the few days spread into weeks and the stack in my closet grew higher and higher. The procrastination started out legitimately enough as I missed the first week due to an asthma-related hospital stay. The next week the magazines came and I added them to the pile thinking I'd take care of them later. The following week they were added to the ever-ominous pile and the pile was then pushed back a little farther into the dark shadows of the closet. This continued on for a while - until Mom discovered it. I think I've blocked out the ensuing scene, but I'm sure you can probably imagine it. Recently, Mom told me, "I don't think I've ever been as mad at any of you kids as I was at that time."

Afterwards, Mom gave me the worst punishment possible - to go to each of my customers, apologize and ask them if they were still interested in purchasing old copies of the magazine. I was so embarrassed and humbled by this - my pride was shattered. Even more so when, out of pity for me, some people actually paid for the old news. For the ones that people didn't buy, I ended up buying myself.

Soon after that, I gave away my route but the lesson has stayed with me. I often find myself putting things off for (at first) a legitimate reason but then finding it hard to get back to. A perfect example of this is grading student papers; I have every intention of getting them graded and handed back within a week. But things like student advising, faculty meetings, sick kids, etc... happen and the grading gets put by the wayside - not in a dark closet, but by the wayside nonetheless, until the night before the self-imposed deadline. Thanks to my Grit lesson, I stay up most of the night and finish the job - because it's the right thing to do.

Even though I'm done with my paper route and student grading, I'm sure I'll find more things to procrastinate on - but I realize the lesson will stay with me and the job will eventually get done. Thanks for that lesson Mom.

Retirement

After having turned in my summer grades five minutes ago, I'm now officially retired. I'm exhausted. But I'm also
* happy
* excited
* off balance as I wander the house thinking, what should I be working on now?
* caught up on laundry
* thrilled to have actual fruits and vegetables in the refrigerator (vs. the canned kind)
* working on becoming a real cook - the kind that makes gorgonzola sauce to have with the tenderloin purchased from the specialty meat market
* reading four different books at one time
* a little short on attention span (hence the four books at one time)
* finding time to sit and read more than 3 books at a time to the kids
* videotaping the kids as they sing and act out "Pirates are we..."

All in all, "retirement" feels right to me - oh so very right.

Pilates (or as Jill said to call it - Marci the Magnificent)

Sometime this summer it is my one year anniversary of doing pilates. As is appropriate for all kinds of anniversaries, I thought a reflection seemed most appropriate. When I first started, I learned (and was quizzed on!) all kinds of new terms and analogies - core, reformers, trapeze table, etc... Now most of those terms seem like second nature - when Jill, my awesome pilates instructor, tells me to go to the reformer and do "coordination" I usually, even at 6 AM, know exactly what to do. When she says, "How's your core?" - I immediately tighten it up. The pic below is of that particular exercise and I do believe my core could have used a bit of tightening. :)

Overall, I'm much stronger but the pilates exercises certainly don't become easier because Jill has this thing with springs. When she notices that something looks a little bit easier and I'm not sweating as much, she tightens or loosens the springs and my body suddenly switches to "work" mode. In the mountain climbing exercise below the springs are fairly loose so my "core" has to work that much harder to keep me up in the air.

The barrel is another example of how adaptable everything is. In the past, I've used a hand pull thingie (I obviously can't think of its name) on my left hand to help my body do the work. If this particular picture could talk, you'd hear some groaning and a few "Oh my gosh!" utterings.

I'm loving pilates - the physical strength and stamina I'm building, and the mental well being I feel are all so wonderful. There certainly aren't many things that can get me out of bed at 5:45 AM two mornings a week, but pilates and my pilates company certainly can!

Book Club

I love people, I love food, and I love books - so what's not to love about bookclub?! The answer is nothing - and last night proved that once again. A group of four of us met on a restaurant terrace and enjoyed good food and drink as we talked about the book and numerous other topics. Shelley Harwayne, one of my favorite "professional" authors once said something like, "A good book is one you have to put down so you can think about it and discuss it." I like that quote because it captures the essence of literature and the purpose of book club. Although last night's book was not one that made us ponder life's bigger questions, it did provide us with newfound knowledge and awe of the orchestrators of Chicago's World Fair of 1893. People are larger than books - I know that is so not profound, but it's true. I truly enjoy the company of the other book club members and just sitting back and hearing them talk. They, not the books themselves, help make our bookclub successful.

For a full update of the meeting and other books we've read, you can go to the newly created blog, rrvwpbookclub.blogspot.com Enjoy!

Carpet Pulling

I think I went a little overboard on July 3 - and I think we'll be paying for it for a few weeks. On that day, as typical of most lately, I woke up to an extremely stuffy nose, itchy eyes, and dull headache. You'd think my allergies would be better right now - this is usually one time of the summer when I'm "sneeze free" but that certainly hasn't been the case. In my mind, it must have been the carpet in the bedroom. Before we moved into the house, we made quite a duststorm when we took the 2+ layers of wallpaper off the wall and had the walls skimcoated and then painted. I sneezed through that project. We then had the drapes professionally cleaned, we had the carpet professionally cleaned and moved in. But still I sneezed. The next step was to get new curtains entirely - a lightweight version that is easy to throw in the washer. Still I sneezed. We then looked to Davey-baby, but even when he was in the UK, I sneezed. :)

Obviously then, the next step was the carpet. Upon the verbalization of this idea, I was greeted with a resounding "NO!" by Dave. So, I did it myself, mostly. (He did help me get the bed over the carpet lump, drag it to the deck and throw it down to the patio. He also went and got the trailer so we could dump the padding, and then he did that job. And finally, he helped roll up the carpet itself and take it over to neighbor Bob's house for use in his basement.) We now have a bedroom floor with tufts of horsehair padding still stuck to it. The floor itself is in pretty good shape, but it could use a sanding and poly job...but I'm not sure I have the energy for that one, especially considering the family room is still full of boxes.

So here we are, sleeping in the attic amidst the chaos of the kids' toys, ignoring the "elephant" down the hall, and, unfortunately, still sneezing.

Independence Day, 2006

In chronological order, a photo recap of our busy day...

304B, Education Building - Now Empty; Family Room - Full

Well, it's done. I spent all day Monday and a bit of yesterday cleaning out my university office. Honestly, there wasn't a moment, or even a second, of sadness on my part. Others came in to check on my progress and a few tears were shed, but none from me. I am so at peace, so happy about my decision that all I feel is excitement.

Until I look at the boxes in the family room - and then go to my second floor office and see how full it already is with books that I brought home in May. Where in the world am I going to put all this stuff?!?! There'll be some serious recycling done in the next few weeks - I've decided to go through all the binders from the last 12 years and get rid of most of it. I mean really, if I haven't looked at my notes from Foundations of Educational Thought in the last two years, do I really think I'll look at them in the future? Do I really need to keep a paper I wrote on Mathematical Language in a Primary Classroom? Do I need to keep my class notes, plans and handouts from when I taught Intermediate Reading Language Arts? I seriously doubt it. So - all my notes, all the papers I ever wrote during my doctoral studies, all the binders filled with classes I taught and assignment guidelines, and even all my dissertation data will be recycled in the next week or so. (The '97 flood took care of all my highschool, undergraduate, and masters papers, as well as all my elementary teaching stuff.)

When I decide to go back to university teaching, things will have changed. All my precious state-of-the-art transparencies will be seen as archaic and out-of-date and I'll spend time recreating new ones anyway. There'll be new studies to read, new research to be gathered, and new students to teach. And, at that point, I'll be excited about teaching once again.

So - if anyone gets a huge kick out of going through old papers, notes, etc..., come join the fun. You'll find me on the back patio with a cup of coffee, loads of binders, a recycling bin and a garbage can close by.

High Tea

One of my favorite memories from a trip to Ireland is the High Tea served in our hotel lobby. Each afternoon I gathered with two or three women and enjoyed tea and scones with jam. I'm not sure if it was the "proper way" to have tea each afternoon or if it was a production done especially for tourists, but we loved it. There's something almost luxerious about sipping tea and gently dabbing jam on a scone while a pianist plays lovely background music. (By the way, "lovely" is a word I picked up from a wonderful Dubliner.)

I felt the same way when we visited Scotland and had dinner at the home of a college friend and his Scottish wife. After a wonderful meal was had and their daughter was rocked to sleep, Rhona put the kettle on and we had tea. Their obvious ritual of it was striking - taking time to let the day's worries slide away as they prepared and drank their tea, all the while talking with one another and enjoying the peacefulness of the evening. Perhaps that's something all of us could use a bit more of in our busy lives.

So, in honor of Dave being in the UK - the kids and I had tea Sunday afternoon. Sophie and I prepared the scones and we all gathered on the patio at 3:30. For their credit, they all tried the tea, but not a one finished their cup. I probably would have finished the pot off by myself if Linda, our next-door-neighbor, hadn't stopped by. So - there you go - the tea helped me take an hour or more on Sunday and just relax on the patio with a neighbor... can't ask for more than that.