Nightmare

I'm at work, trying diligently to juggle the aspects of my job description: assessment and evaluation, report writing, meetings, writing Individual Education Plans, returning phone calls from desperate parents, meeting with 80 students a week and trying to address their individual needs, consulting with parents and teachers, collecting behavioral data and graphing it, and bucket loads of paper work. All this while preparing for an audit and trying to renew my license. I become aware that I have no office and my principal gives me a student desk and says I can have a space in a third grade classroom. I choose a place in the back and try to get to work in spite of teacher instruction and 30 students talking to me. One of the legs on the desk collapses and so does my patience. I run out of the classroom and find the principal in the hall. I demand to have an office and he lets me scream at him while he walks down the hall but he gives me the stink eye. He then sees two plants and he asks me what is wrong with them, they don't look so good. I cease my diatribe and focus on the plants. He walks away. I continue my angry quest. I am more important than this! (Or not?) I go up to the room that was initially designated as my office, a spacious room with a view. There is another school psychologist that I know working there. There is no furniture. and she is shuffling some papers. She, unlike myself, is happy. I start my rant, using my "I Statements." The principal and the head of the District Appeals Committee show up and say I can have half of her office. (my office)

Interpretation: I have felt overwhelmed at work to the point of freaking out. Demands are becoming impossible because of an ever increasing focus on data driven intervention and law suit prevention. The necessary paper trails, and their required perfection, even though I understand the importance of them, are humanly impossible to create. Audits and evaluations loom over our heads. My other responsibilities have also become more demanding. More children are coming to school with more serious problems. They arrive at school with heartbreakingly impossible situations in their lives. Meanwhile the resources of the District to adequately address these additional needs, remain the same.

Some school districts have school psychologists to do assessments and evaluation, and counselors to do the counseling. This is sounding more attractive to me. Jordan District uses School Psychologists to fulfill both these roles.

In reality, I have the best, most supportive principal I have ever had, a brand new school with a lovely large office and a dream of a team with which to work. The rest of the dream, the nightmare part, is accurate. The day before Christmas break, my principal came to my office and asked how I was holding up. He told me that there was no wonder we were all overwhelmed. He had just made a list off the top of his head, of the students with severe disciplinary and psychological needs. There were twenty-nine and some of my caseload was not on his list. Before the day was done, we added two more. I hope that my nightmare pushed the reset button of my psyche and I am ready to go back and face my challenges with renewed energy and optimism.

I'll bet the plants died.

1980

When Michael and Noelle were teeny, the Equal Rights Amendment was an issue in the forefront. Its existence caused great alarm in the Mormon community and I was a victim of the scare tactics. Stories of women in foxholes were almarming, tand he feminists seemed like crazed demon-women, bra burnings were humiliating. To my way of thinking the feminists were not very feminine. Were these women really female? They were a different brand, that's for sure. It was a very polarizing, emotional issue. Not one woman I knew, including myself, supported the ERA and we were quite emotional about it, yes even crazed. There was a woman from Nampa named Helen Roelofs who wrote shocking, pro-ERA articles in the Idaho Statesman. I couldn't stand it. I wrote a Letter-to-the Editor in regards to one of her articles. It took me forever to compose and I thought it was a masterpiece. It was very emotional. You could hear the sobbing in the background by reading the letter. I was so proud when my opinion that a woman's place was at home raising children and supporting a husband was printed in the newspaper. A few days later to my surprise, Helen Roelofs called me. What a gracious, articulate woman she was. She thanked me for my response to her article and we chatted for awhile. I was confused. Helen Roelofs wasn't a crazed demon-woman. She was intelligent, mature and gentle. I went to the library and checked out a book, Having it All, by Helen Gourley Brown, a prominent businesswoman and feminist. I loved it, but now that I am older and wiser, I realize that women shouldn't have to have the impossible burden of thinking they can have it all. Why can't we just have what we want?

Spiritual Life History Part 1

I cried when I was confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The Baptism didn't effect me as much as the Confirmation. When someone is confirmed in our Church, many men form a circle around you and place a hand on your head and one of them gives you a blessing and confirms you a member of the Church. My Father gave me the blessing. This was such a powerful experience that after it was over I ran crying to my mother on the front row.

Max

Max is a third grade autistic student that I have known for three years. He is difficult. He doesn't want to participate in group activities, is devastated when he loses a game, and whines and complains the entire time. He spends most of the time with his head laid on the table, or his entire body under the table. Just a few days ago I told a colleague that I hadn't seen any progress with Max and was discouraged. This week I was making a video for the morning announcements. It was a skit modeling a social skill, and against my better judgement, I asked Max to be in it. He said he didn't want to. I said, "I don't care, you are student #4." So we practiced and the more he practiced the better he became. He was actually cooperating and following directions. When the camera girls came, he performed beautifully. I was amazed! Later I learned that he was so excited about doing the skit, he told everyone he saw! The cockles of my heart are warm.

Happy Game

I love being a school psychologist because I am a moody person and when I'm down, I follow my own advice and do mood elevators in my groups. Sometimes I do yoga stretches, deep breathing and meditative visualization. Last week I was a little down so when the cute little boys came for group, I suggested we play the Happy Game. We went around the table and told about things that make us happy. We did this for the entire time and those little guys thought of the most wonderful things. I did, too. When it was time for them to leave, a little autistic boy, not giving me eye contact said, "I like the Happy Game." It made me feel better, too.

It snowed today. It's cold, and windy. Last winter was dismal and lasted well into Spring. Winter seemed claustrophobic last year. We're probably not moving to Redwood City, California which was on the Top 5 Climates in the World, no less. So I'm trying to brainstorm ideas to make winter tolerable. Here goes:

1) Go outside anyway.
2) Eat winter foods
3) Light a fire
4) Enjoy winter clothing
5) Write
6) Meet up with friends
7) Have a summer hobby and.......a winter hobby.
8) Observe the weather, it's fascinating

The Pink Dress and the Snorting Contortionist

I snoop in thrift stores and cheapy stores and in these environments, creativity just oozes out of every pore. Take, for example, my pink dress. I found a long flouncy lace pink dress at the thrift store, and it took my breath away. I guess it spoke to my inner 60's flower child, but, ugly and outdated, I had to have it. First of all I cut off all those multicolored lace roses that served as buttons, because even with out the buttons, this dress is ridiculous. Then I took about five inches out of the sleeves, which made them more snug and and appropriate for this decade, if that is possible. Since then, whenever I shop, which is often, I have finding accessories to go with this dress in the back or front of my mind at all times. I have found some fabulous things. A Tommy Hilfiger denim vest that will lower the gook and raise the funky quotient of the dress. A muted pink and grey plaid cowboy shirt to wear under the vest. I found, get this, a pink sparkly animal print belt that looks absolutely stunning with the garb. Two scarves, and a grey sweatshirt for less formal occasions. I have been into the pink-dress-zone so deeply I forgot to notice that it didn't come with an under slip, so I shopped for something creative to wear underneath to make it modest. Actually you would have to be somewhat of a show off to wear this get-up, but not wearing anything under the dress would be crossing the line even for me. I settled on a long black slip. Sizzle. I'm having a more difficult time with shoes. If I were really brave I would wear high-topped Converses, but maybe I will just settle for some glitzy flip flops.

Once when Miriam had just come home from Spain, we went to the library together. We each went our way. I found a book about dogs and something funny made me want to laugh out loud. But, dang it, I was in the library so I tried to stifle it. That made it worse. It was so hilarious that my stifled laugh came out sounding a lot like a pig snorting. Which made me laugh and snort so hard, tears started streaming down my cheeks. Of course, I wanted to share all this hilarity with my daughter so I stood up and started walking toward her, snorting all the way. It was so funny that I had to cross my legs and bend over to keep from peeing my pants. Miriam said she heard the strangest loud noise in the library, and when she looked up to see what it was, to her alarm, it was her mother walking toward her, bent over, cross-legged and snorting like a pig with tears running down her face. She paused. She couldn't decide if there was something wrong with me and that she should get me to a hospital, or if I had completely gone off my rocker and she should get me to a hospital. She thought about calmly getting up and walking out of the library, not acknowledging any relationship with the snorting, contorted, crying woman. But, bless her heart, she accepted the humiliation of being my daughter to see if I was OK. I showed her the joke. "It's not funny, mom."

I think if I wore the pink dress in public, it would cause a similar reaction from my loved ones.

Mental Health Day

Every once in a while, maybe three times a year, I have to take a mental health day. Last night I went to bed at 9:00 and still couldn't get out of bed this morning. I couldn't face the oppositional defiant kids at school. I couldn't face the paperwork, and the responsibility of managing about 6 Behavior Plans, all while seeing about 60 students today and tomorrow. I couldn't face the fact that I had to go early to team meeting at one school during my other school's time, then run over to the other school. And yesterday I remembered I was the chair of the Anti-Bullying Committee at one of my schools. It was The Straw! I got out of bed, yes I did, got dressed.......and then crawled back in bed, fully clothed. I slept until 11:00.

So if I am going to take a mental health day I should do things that will make me feel more mentally healthy. I'll Brainstorm. Sleep. Exercise. Go outdoors. Meditate. Clean. Make bread. Why am I making list of things to do on mental health day?

I did go outside today to throw away some rotten tomatoes and heard some geese trumpeting their way South for the winter. I stood there until they came into sight, then watched about 100 beautiful birds flying in V-formation and cheering each other on as they flew into the South wind, a sure sign of a storm. The sound of geese isn't particularly pleasant, so then why is it so calming and healing to hear them honking at each other? It is one of the things I love about my home; it is in the path of migrating geese. They look and sound beautiful to me. And they make me want to fly south for the winter.

The Art of Massacring a Joke

There once was a guy named Artie. Artie needed money so desprately that he decided to rob a bank. He went to the first teller and demanded all her cash. "I don't have any" she said. He choked her and went to the next teller and demanded all his cash. "I don't have any" he said so he choked him and went to third one. "I don't have any," said the teller. He choked her and went to the last teller. "All I have is a dollar," he said. So Artie took the dollar and ran out of the bank. Newspaper headline that night: ARTIE CHOKES THREE FOR A DOLLAR!

Very clever, don't you think? I loved this joke so I wanted to tell it to my neighbor.

" There was this guy named Artie who went into the bank and asked the teller for all her cash. She said she didn't have any, so he conked her on the head and went to the next one." "Mom," little Miriam tugged on my sleeve, "You are telling it wrong!" "Miriam, don't interrupt!" "When he asked the next teller for the cash, he didn't have any either, so he conked him on the head and went to the next one." "Mom, that's not what Artie does!" "Miriam! Leave me alone! I'm telling the joke." "When Artie conks the last teller and leaves the bank, the newspaper printed the following headline: ARTIE CONKS THREE FOR A DOLLAR. Oops. I mean he choked all those tellers.

That was years ago. The other day I thought I would give it another try.

"A guy named Artie goes to the grocery store and buys three artichokes for a dollar." HHHHmmmmmmm. I'm getting worse.

For the First time in my Life, I have Time

I killed half the grass in the front yard with Roundup just because I didn't have anything to do. I have seen some yards in downtown SLC that have no grass, just native plants and it's unique and attractive. And I decided to make the square garden in the front a white only garden so I'm digging out all the yellow and purple. In the front I'm putting Russian Sage, Valerian, Agastache, Blanket flower, Pentsemon, Cone Flower, Salvia, and Aster. And daylily, of course. There is room for 14 plants. In the white garden I have white iris, white salvia, Joan Senior daylily, daisies, Snow on the Mountain, Blue Fescue, Peonie, and today I planted some white tulips. I also ordered 3 white plants from High Country Gardens. Listened to LDS Conference today. Cleaned kitchen during morning conference and bedroom/bathroom during afternoon conference. Talked to Noelle, who is also bored. Maybe I should join a bookclub, or do something active, or anything. Since I quit dance, I've had time on my hands. Oh, yes, I'll be babysitting Stella on Tuesdays, going to the movie on Thursday with Noelle. Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Cool Old Ladies

1) Know themselves really well and confidently create themselves and their environment with this as the basis.
2) Listen instead of judge, do not give advice or top everyone's stories
3) Care about what they wear and how they look
a. wear good support bras
b. have good posture
c. aren't too overweight
4) Are happy
5) Have lots of friends
6) Play
7) Have multiple interests
8) Read
9) Are reasonably up with technology
10) Are good natured
11) Take care of themselves
12) Have a different hairstyle than they did in high school
13) Have a nice resting face
14) Laugh
15) Are funny

Security Question Continued

We rented for five years when we moved to Sandy. It was a very cool house but added to my list of things I wanted in a house, such as a coat room. My kids would walk in the front door after school, drop book bags and coats right there and run to the bathroom and then go to their rooms. I wanted a coat room in the front of the house that was two steps from a bathroom and closer to their rooms than the front door.

For three years I drove around the valley looking for the perfect location. The criteria for perfect being, 1) affordable, 2)mountain views (we do live in Utah, you know) , 3)East sloping lot for walk-out basement so it would be light downstairs, and so the deck would be shaded in the afternoon for barbecues, 4) neighborhood and schools, not necessarily in that order. Three years after we moved to Utah I found it at 12069 Hidden Valley Club Drive. The Hidden Valley Country Club had sold lots only to members, so each house that was built looked unique, not a cookie cutter subdivision. I loved it. The house would face West and sloped to the East, so I would have my walk-out basement and shaded family barbecues on the deck. The Jensens, members of the Country Club, wanted $25,000 for the lot and I am ashamed to say I offered them 24,000. They smiled at each other and accepted. The house design odyssey and obsession began anew.

For the next year and a half, I drew and researched and thought and imagined, until I had the house I knew I could live in forever. We had been married 15 years and moved 10 times, but I knew I had a house for the long-term. I had somehow acquired my dream lot. Here are some of the thoughts I had regarding The Carey Home structure. George wanted it just to be a simple, square house, which would be economical to build. I studied where the foot traffic in the house would be and planned accordingly. I wanted big windows along the back of the house, for the gorgeous views that we were lucky enough to have, so kitchen, dining, living room and master bedroom were on the east of the house all with big windows. In the front were garage, den, stairs, closets, shower and tub, which don't require big windows. We wanted a 3-car garage this time, a walk-in pantry, huge kitchen and utility room, and master bathroom with walk-in closet. We added a den, a sauna, and I wanted a fireplace between living and dining rooms. With all these changes, our plan ended up being a few hundred square feet smaller than the Meridian house. After drawing the plans, which this time included heating and electrical plans, getting them approved by Sandy City and subcontracting the house myself, the final cost of the house was $97,000 plus $24,000 for the lot for a total of $119,000. We framed in for the fireplace, decks, sauna and large bathtub and added them later along with central air conditioning.

We had a row of five dormitory bedrooms along the east wall of the basement, a boys bathroom, a girls bathroom, a small library, a storage room and a family room. The family room dream never really happened, but recently some of our forward thinking has paid off. We plumbed the downstairs for an eventual kitchen, and our son and daughter-in-law came after graduation and made a beautiful three bedroom apartment and stayed there for two years. Now we have renters which brings in a little extra money. Eventually mom can live down there if she wants to.

We moved in just as school was starting in 1990. But not before the next door neighbor invited us over and asked if he could hire an architect to redraw our house. He said some very hurtful things like our house didn't belong in this subdivision, it belonged up in Oakley. He thought our simple house would bring down property values and he had gone to all the neighbors with 22 of them signing a petition to redesign our house. We declined and proceeded with our plans. Our house had met all criteria for the neighborhood covenants. However, I knew the house was plain and was deeply hurt. It eventually blew over and the neighbor moved to an upscale neighborhood a couple of years later.

Our home has been a work in progress. George has worked hard to put in the fireplace, bathtub, sauna, fences, landscaping. He has bought more property in the back so that our lot is now almost an acre, I think. Before his mission, Michael and George built two huge decks, one off the kitchen and one from the basement, which was a major undertaking. Michael came home from his mission and terraced our backyard and made a beautiful, huge stairway going down the hill.

I decorated the house from my heart. I like a more eclectic style than is ever in fashion. My kitchen cabinets are all white laminate, my floors are black and white checkered tile and marble and I don't have window coverings. I have had the same kitchen table that George's mother raised her family around, since we got married. George worked hard to strip the white paint off and refinish it. Now I have my grandmother's white kitchen cupboard that I am refinishing for my white kitchen. I have original art from June and my mom, and little wooden birds and animals that George's Dad made. I like oriental looking rugs and not a lot of knick-knacks or pictures.

Our big three-car garage was just kind of pasted on the front of the house making our house L-shaped. I would have had to make too many sacrifices to the floor plan to set it back into the house. This was one of Joel's points of contention. A few years later I had George make a fenced in courtyard with trellis extending from the front of the garage, which improved the looks of the house and made a hidden garden as a front entrance into the house. My garden is quite attractive. Janice, my friend loves my garden because she said it looks cared for, but natural and beautifully imperfect. I have between 60 and 70 varieties of daylilies that I have acquired throughout my garden. One year George had staked labels made for each of them that says their name, hybridizer and year, which adds to my enjoyment and the uniqueness of the garden. It has not been an easy garden. The soil is awful and so my strategy has been, if it stays alive, it was meant to be there. I have spent more money on dead plants than I care to add up.

This week we are getting our roof reshingled. Shingles blow off all the time and they tell me it wasn't shingled very well. But I almost hate to have them covered up. You see, George and the kids put the original shingles on, and I have a lasting image of my entire family working on the roof to finish our house. Everyone worked on the house. On the roof is a detail that I was somewhat stubborn about including in the house. Silly, but it is a cupola. I love cupolas. Mine is a country doctor with horse and carriage. It is a quaint and charming detail of the Carey Home.

Anyway, we love our home. We worked hard for it and it has worked hard for us. Lately there has been a new movement called the Not-So-Big-House movement. Sarah Susanka wrote a book with that title, about planning a house that fits your lifestyle and has just enough room for your needs. If feel that I intuitively followed this philosophy from the time this home was first conceived. I dreamed it, I planned it, I built it, I am paying for it, I raised my family in it, I decorated it, I change it frequently, I live hard in it. I love it. My bank has me answer some security questions to access my account. One of them is "What is your favorite vacation spot?" My answer is "Home."

Answer to Security Question, "What is your favorite vacation spot?"

In 1984, we bought a wonderful half acre lot in Meridian, Idaho. George bought me a huge pad of erasable graph paper and I went to town drawing and erasing, and crumbling and throwing away, and drawing and erasing my dream home. It had to be practical, fit our needs, be aesthetically pleasing, and fit into our budget. My favorite pastime for the entire year, was looking at pictures of houses in magazines, driving around looking at houses, reading about houses, and of course, designing the house. However my best information came from living in houses. We had lived in Idaho for 10 years at that time and had lived in 5 houses. I knew what I did and didn't like in those houses.

My 6 children received only the most basic of care while I was obsessed with this project. And by the time we started building, I was expecting our seventh. I got the plans approved by Meridian City, got bids from subcontractors and nagged them until the house was done. It was completed in 3 months and we moved in two weeks before our last child, Stephanie was born. I really loved that house but that year the bottom fell out of real estate and George was offered a job in Salt Lake so we sold the house and moved to Utah. Emotionally, I didn't think I could move out of the home I had created, so I just loaded up the kids and left George to do the packing, moving and cleaning.

The Joyance of Annoyance

1) Hearing other people's cell phone conversations
2) Babies crying incessantly in stores
3) Letting dogs eat off people plates
4) Door to door salesman and telephone salesman
5) People who talk too much, or take too many words or examples to say little, or take more than their share of time in a conversation

I arrived at work a little late and found my team huddled in S's office. Her daughter, K, was threatening suicide. S was terrified but surprisingly calm. Her son was parked outside the girl's apartment, monitoring. Soon, K left in the car, her boyfriend had given her the car keys and the debit card. She texted S and told her she was in the parking garage with exact whereabouts. S and I jumped in the car because she couldn't stand not knowing if K was safe. I didn't think it was safe to leave her alone in her state of mind and was ready to call the police, but K texted and said it would kill her if S called the police. We wondered if she was parked at the downtown mall parking garage so headed there, but the description of the location didn't fit the garage. K texts her mom and says her debit card doesn't work and she needs lots of money. Demands money. We drive to bank and S deposits $1000 but the transaction still doesn't go through and K is screaming at S to deposit all of her money! (S8000) What does a mom do when she's scared to death her daughter's life is in danger? We go to the airport and S pays for the ticket. We go to lunch. During lunch K calls and tells S she can't get reservations at the nice hotel where she will feel good at. S calls the hotel and makes the reservations. Only rooms left are super deluxe. Bye, bye savings account. S at least feels reasonably assured that her daughter is safe. I, on the other hand, just know that there is a very upset young lady alone in a hotel room in Portland tonight.

The Kitchen Sink Cookbook

Today I wanted to make Russian Black Bread with the Zojirushi bread maker George found for me at a garage sale for $5.00. These are the substitutions I made because I didn't have the ingredients:

1) Used coconut vinegar instead of apple cider vinegar
2) Used whole wheat flour, barley flour and all purpose flour instead of bread flour and rye flour.
3) Used raw cane sugar and molasses instead of brown sugar and dark corn syrup
4) Used Postum instead of instant coffee granules

Here are additional alterations I made to the recipe:

1) Left out Caraway Seed. Didn't have any.
2) Forgot to add butter after I put it in the microwave to melt
3) Last minute, added a very soggy banana with an expiration date from last week.

It has a weird underlying flavor since I'm not sure all the ingredients have compatible flavors, but the jury is still out on this one. George will be the final judge. If you would like the recipe, let me know. What's that? You don't?

Grandma's Cupboard

Today I cleaned out a part of Grandma's cupboard. There were surprises. A secret bread board, two pull out shelves, a flour bin. I even marveled at the old crumbs I wiped out because I knew they were my grandmother's crumbs.

It's not all fun and games

Alice and I cooked up a party for last night. Their children were visiting and we were celebrating summer birthdays. My daughter's birthday is today and she had requested peach cobbler and was excited to come, but she and her husband were having some contention and she had found out that someone had been using her debit card and she was saying things like "Why do I work so hard? Why don't I just use people's debit cards?" My daughter was at my house trying to cool off from her husband, but the air conditioner is out. Everyone was in a foul mood. Even me. My daughters decided not to go to the party and I was fine with it since I wasn't too excited about it myself. But I had to go through with it. I had spent the morning making takoyaki at a reunion and squeezing fresh limes for fresh limeade, and trying to peel cling peaches for the cobbler but ended up buying canned peaches, and making a fruit salad, all the while just throwing things around the kitchen, forgetting about the clean-as-you-go concept. But I went knowing it would be stressful and it was.

Connecting with TJ Maxx, Ross, Nordstrom Rack...

I just noticed something about myself. Every time I go into a store, I buy something or two or three or four somethings. I keep telling myself that I am just going in to look because stores are like museums. And when I walk inside the door of a store, I leave my stressful life outside. But I never end up just looking. What I look at calls to me, "You can't live without me. I would look so good with your 10 pair of black pants and 20 black jackets. If you leave me here you won't be able to sleep tonight." So yeah, I just noticed that. What now? Can any of my secret followers help me?

Disconnecting the Air Conditioning

I have decided to reduce my footprint and discontinue using the central air conditioner. Well, OK, it broke two days ago. It is the hottest part of the summer. Oddly enough the evening that it broke, I listened to a RadioWest podcast about air conditioning which sounded boring but wasn't. It actually convinced me to do an attitude flip flop. Instead of wallowing in self-pity and blaming George for not being here for this crisis, I decided to enjoy it. After all, it is summer, right? What did the pioneers do? (Utah joke)

It was a call in show and I wanted to call in with my ideas on heat management which were better than those who did call in. Then I remembered it was a previously aired program so I will share my ideas with all of my followers. (I know you are out there somewhere) (Not) 1) Drink ice water constantly. 2. Go shopping in the heat of the afternoon and 3. (You are going to love this) Take frequent showers...........with your clothes on. It is the ultimate in evaporative cooling. Important Tip: Wring yourself out before traipsing through your newly clean house.

p.s. I am sitting by an open window in my den and a cool breeze just blew in on me. It was wonderful. I never noticed breezes with central air.

Connecting with my Home

After a week of debilitating jet lag, I decided to unpack. This simple decision lead to a severe cleaning manic episode. I am doing my Spring cleaning in the summer. I am detailing my house. I washed windows, replaced the mildewed shower curtain, went through all my clothes and shoes, tore down old brittle sheers, and vacuumed UNDER furniture. If you are like me, you have never done that before. It took me two days to do my bedroom and master bathroom, but it didn't end there. Actually it got worse. I weeded and fixed my garden. I placed an ad to sell my piano, I replaced the bag in the vacuum, without George (!) Remind me to do that more often. My family and the health department will be pleased to find out that I hauled off the Carey Family butcher block cutting block thing. George loves that thing, but he's gone, right? He'll be so surprised. I moved and threw out furniture, I organized George's vanity top and got him an organizer. He will love this. Actually he hates me to touch his stuff. It always disappears after I touch it for some reason. My home cleans up pretty well, and I am having some very fond feelings for it. I have even considered quitting work so that I can spend more quality time with my neglected domicile. Tomorrow..... the pantry and fultility room. If you don't see me after a week, call the police.

Things I Did Not Connect with Today

All of Stella's French Fries,like I usually do

Stella's chicken nuggets like I usually do

Stella's ice cream, I wanted to

One bag of black licorice and one bag of red licorice because I ate them last night.

Connections: Stella

Haven't seen my 2 1/2 year old granddaughter, Stella, for a couple of weeks. Today I picked her up at 11:00 to get her to her dance class at 11:30. She was talking a lot to me on the way. She told me how she went boating. Dad and mom got in the water, but Halla and Jordan didn't. They didn't even go. The boat went too fast. She went right into dance class and I went to Home Depot. When I picked her up at dance, I just couldn't take her back. So we went to Wendy's where she went on the toilet so I told her I would buy her a frosty. She ate her chicken nuggets and fries, dipping them in her cup of ice cream and saying yum. Then she stirred and stirred her ice cream with a spoon saying she was making blueberry ice cream. I didn't know there was a huge picture of some blueberries behind me. Yhen she made strawberry ice cream. There was also a picture of a strawberry. Then she stirred and stirred and said she was making coffee, every once in awhile dipping in a nugget or a fry and eating it. By then it was melted and she drank it.

Still couldn't take her home. So we went to Sugar House Park, where she went down the slides about 20 times, played with some girls who spoke Swahili, and became terrified when I started to put her in the swing. Before she would go down the slide she would throw her water bottle down the slide and say "I'll get it, grandma!" Then down she would go, pick it up and say "Grandma, I got it!" There was a wide slide so Stella invited me to go down with her.......and I did! It was fun because Stella was so delighted.

 

Connections: Heather, My Sister's Daughter

Two days after returning from Washington, I boarded a plane for Singapore. Seven hours to Tokyo, two hour layover, eleven hours to Singapore. Total: Twenty hours, but gained twenty-four. My poor niece, Heather, had to pick us up from the airport at 1:00 in the morning.

It was a wonderful experience. Visiting with Heather for five straight days was delightful and she was more than the perfect hostess. We went to a Night Zoo, Museum of Ancient Chinese Civilization, got a sucking fish foot exfoliation, saw Lion King, the play, went to China Town and Little India briefly, a 4th of July barbecue with Heather's expatriate friends, shopped at a huge mall and ate ourselves sick. So much food and so little time. Her "help" is from Indonesia? Malaysia? and made very good curry dishes and we ate at food stalls and at a nice restaurant on the last night. Great food extravaganza!

The shopping is phenomenal. That and the cleanliness, safety and architecture put New York City to shame albeit, the plane ticket is three times as expensive. On the day before I went home, I struck out on my own. A nice river with eclectic foot bridges that are lit at night, bisects the city so I knew I wouldn't get too lost, although after walking a few miles, I broke down and got a map. My goal: Takoyaki at the Singapura Plaza. Yum. So why I took the umbrella out of my purse and didn't put on the sunblock that was in my purse, eludes me. One positive: My $24 Teva mush sandals. I have worn the same ones across Scandinavia and all over the Mediterranean and they didn't disappoint in Singapore.

I found the Plaza, ate the Takoyaki and eventually found the river and followed it back to the apartment all the while taking pictures of the amazing architecture. I don't consider a trip a success unless I explore to the point of getting just a little lost.

Heather got up at 3:00 a.m. to take me to the airport. I'll bet she's happy I've come and gone. When the plane touched down in SLC, I checked my phone messages and found that my friend Bonnie wanted me to go to Cedar City to the Shakespeare Festival for a couple of days. I couldn't say no, but am paying with triple jet lag.

Connections with the Past: Grandma's Cupboard

When I was about four years old I would often go to my grandma's log house to visit. I remember a few things, the cocker spaniel, the willow trees, my grandpa's auto shop, the green wringer washer, the garden, and grandma's stand-alone white kitchen cupboard. It had frosted glass cupboard doors, a pull out counter, and a pull-out flour bin with a sifter on the bottom. My niece, Kristin spoke for it and it sat in my mom's basement for years and I coveted it each time I saw it. Then Kristin decided she didn't want it and mom offered it to me. That was probably ten years ago. My nephew delivered it to my garage this week and I am cleaning the 60 year old dough off with green cleaner and a toothbrush. I really don't have a place for it but I will find one and enjoy it for 20 years. Then I will pass it down to someone else who loves it.

Connections: Prudy/DeAnn/Lora Jo

Before I finally decided to join Prudy and DeAnn on the pilgrimage to Dave's funeral, I decided not to because they had decided to just go to the viewing and then come back home. I thought that was outrageous to travel that far for a viewing so I reneged. Prudy called me and insisted I go, which flattered me, and I told her I would go if we stayed for the funeral. DeAnn's husband couldn't go if we did, but Prudy and her husband Gary, DeAnn and myself ended up being the final pilgrims. It was a pilgrimage. I hadn't really talked to DeAnn for years because of her stubborn political stance, and mine. I don't have too much respect for the extreme political right wing because my understanding is that they don't actually try to gather information from all sides of the issues and they never change their minds, in the name of religious principles. I don't trust people who never change their minds.

So I was skeptical and worried that it would be a frustrating 12 hour political debate. It wasn't. In fact we didn't talk politics until the last hour or so when we had exhausted every other topic. And then it was sane. And I loved DeAnn for it.

I picked up DeAnn at her home and we drove to Prudy's to spend the night. DeAnn and I, who had shared the same room in college, talked all the way to Prudy's and almost all night. Then the four of us talked all twelve hours to Royal City, Washington and made it there in time for the viewing, which was ghastly. Dave had had lap band surgery, gastric bypass and pancreatic cancer. What was in the casket was a mere crumb of what he was as a living person. But it was very interesting to meet all of Lora's children as adults and get to know them a bit.

We didn't think we would get a chance to talk to Lora much, but the next morning she actually abandon her whole family and went to breakfast with us. It was a four hour breakfast at McDonald's and it was the highlight of the experience. Maybe one of the highlights of my life.

Reconnecting

Forty-five years ago, my friends, Prudy and DeAnn and I drove together from Eastern Idaho to Oregon to our friend Lora's wedding reception. We were young, beautiful and and a little crazy, and we had so much fun together.

We had just met a couple of months before when we were assigned to be roommates at Ricks College. There were four of us at Ricks Hall: Prudy, whom I had met in beauty school during high school, DeAnn, from Burley who later introduced me to my husband, and Lora Jo from Nyssa, Oregon. We were all just dating like crazy, even Lora, who also had a boyfriend back home. Dave had attended Ricks before his mission and was a hotshot on the football team but didn't want to go back to school. He missed Lora a lot. She was beautiful, smart, vivacious, funny, really popular and was dating some of the big men on campus. To avoid losing her, Dave asked Lora to marry him just a few weeks after school started and they were married after the first semester.

We have kept contact ever since we were freshman. We wrote an old fashioned round robin letter. We would get an envelope with a letter from each of us in it, replace our own with an updated one and send it to the next friend. We have 26 children between us, two divorces, a whopping share of difficult children, financial struggles, You know, just life stuff, but we were all committed to keeping in touch with each other. I was the last one married, but even I got married before I graduated from college. That was the Mormon way back then. But remarkably so, we all graduated. First DeAnn and Prudy, before they had a lot of children, then myself, after my divorce, then Lora Jo who got a really late start but is now a school teacher in Washington. We have all done great things. DeAnn, a political conservative, home-schooled all her children and lived on next to nothing with a worse than nothing husband. Prudy, not her husband, owns a popular nursery in Rigby, Idaho, that she bought in shambles and turned around. We are all strong women and have taken our own paths but have remained friends. I have been the worst at keeping touch. My beliefs evolved more liberally than theirs and I feel like somewhat of an outsider but they have all continued to be incredibly kind and inclusive. I think it is quite an accomplishment that we are still involved in each other's lives.

A couple of weeks ago, DeAnn called and said Dave had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on the day after he retired as a ditchrider. Then a few days ago she called and said he died. Just went downhill fast and died. We are starting to die.

So Wednesday, DeAnn and I will be meeting Prudy at her house and we will drive together to Royal City, Washington to Dave's funeral. We are old, thick and wrinkled and our youthful craziness has been beat off by life. But we will have fun together.

Connections at Work: The Group Home Boys

There is a Group Home in the boundaries of Midas Creek Elementary, the school where I work. It is a holding home for boys who have been removed from their homes because their parents have lost their parental rights. You have to be a pretty bad parent to lose your rights. Many of them are hopeless victims of drugs and all of the ones I know of, are single parents. Sometimes the boys are placed in the group home because they, themselves, are ungovernable. Like Fad, a fifth grader. Fad lived in a refugee camp in Africa for years before he came to the U.S. to live with his grandparents. He doesn't know if his parents are alive or dead. He didn't know a word of English when he came over as a second grader. The Grandparents couldn't handle him, and he kept running away and staying with older gangish boys. So the State stepped in. One morning Fad came to school as usual and waited on the playground for the morning bell to ring to go in. A few students saw him. But he never made it in. We called the group home, but he didn't walk home. They didn't find him until the next morning when the mother of the friend he stayed with recognized his picture on TV. He had hitchhiked 30 miles to a town north of the school, where he had previously lived. Red flag.

The structure and rules in the group home are strict. The boys carry home point sheets and get rewards if they do well in school. Points at school equals points at home. All privileges are earned and they work up the level system.

All of those boys come to our school and it is a given that they have sad stories. Really sad stories and when they come to me they have repeated their sad stories a hundred times to various case workers, therapists, etc. They have had therapy up the yin yang and they could probably do therapy on me. Each one of them has a deep yearning to go home to their parent, no matter how terrible the conditions. All except Fad, who is at loose ends.

Don is a cute little guy. Dark hair and great big blue eyes. He is quite bright and highly medicated. He's still very impulsive and hyper. The district supplies an aide for Don because he's a runner and has sexual issues and cannot be left unsupervised. He witnessed his parents having sex then tried it on his sister. When I gave him and the other boys a soda, he was the only one who shook it up good before he let the geyser loose in my small office. Don has stories. Incredible unbelievable stories that he makes up to earn the approval of the other kids. The supervisor in the home says that his pretend play involves a graphic 'killing cats" commentary.

These latent boys have had very unstable lives. I never know them for a whole school year because, if they are really good and get enough points for a long enough time, they are rewarded by moving to a higher level home, where they will have all new people, new school, new everything. None of them seem to care much. I guess people with attachment disorders are numb.

Reconnecting With Daniel

What was I getting at Home Depot? I don't remember. But something memorable happened there yesterday. Again. I was in line waiting to purchase my forgettable items. At the next cashier I saw some people I knew. It was Daniel and his crazy mom. Conveniently I have forgotten their last name. It didn't surprise me that they were having some credit card trouble. When one didn't work, she would produce another one out of her wallet until one finally went through.

Let me preface this chance meeting with Daniel's story. He was a little chubby third grader at the elementary school where I worked about five years ago. He has an IQ of about 78 or 80, so was performing at that level in all areas. He was having a terrible time academically, socially, and had no coping skills. He felt stupid and unloved. And when he was frustrated, he got angry and when he got angry, he hurt people. Peers and teacher. He was an angry person! He was in my office more times than I can count crying and cooling down.

I can still hear him saying the affirmation that I teach all my kids:

I am somebody. In all the world there is no one else like me (only Daniel said something like "In all the world, I am like no other") I can do things. I can solve problems. I can change things. I am becoming the person I want to be. I am somebody.

Daniel had learning issues but he had the affirmation memorized.

He was one of the most depressed kids I have ever worked with. And for good reason. His parents were both dysfunctional, explosive, abusive, with Dad in and out of the home, with and without restraining orders. Big sisters had drug and truancy issues. One was severely retarded. Mom came into the school more than once stoned out of her mind. Daniel came to school about 10:00 every day because no one woke him up, gave him some Cheerios and sent him on his way. He was on his own.

His mother had these little dogs that she fawned over. One day she asked Daniel to give them a bath in the bathtub. Of course, they tried to escape, and while trying to contain them, one drowned. Mother was inconsolable. Daniel asked her, "Mom, do you wish it was me that drowned?" I called Family Services.

Daniel was every bully's victim. One day when he was in the sixth grade, he had an altercation with a student. He lived across the street from the school, so he walked home at lunch time, climbed up on the roof of his house and threatened to jump off. His sister called his mom and she came home and talked him down. He was hospitalized for a time after that.

So, yes, I saw them at Home Depot yesterday. I didn't say anything to them because I didn't want her to be embarrassed because of her credit card difficulties, so I just left. The parking lot was a parking lot, meaning it was gridlocked, but I knew if I drove up by the store I would have a chance to see them when they walked out. Sure enough, by the time I got up front, they were loading their compost into the car and I stopped to talk to them. Daniel came right over smiling. He was tall, handsome, self assured and well mannered. I asked how he was doing and he nodded and said he was "doing good." I told him I was so glad to see him and so glad he was happy. As they were getting into their car, his mom turned back and said, "He misses you." He probably never talks about me, but that was nice of her to say.

Connecting with Grandkids: Ali, Cole, Peanut, Elle and Cougar

We drove 20 hours or more
Made our gluteus maximus sore.
With each family a day
We stayed with them to play
Now we're ready to go back for more.

Connecting with Brant, William and Families

Last week-end we drove and drove and drove and drove to Arizona to see our two sons.
Then we drove and drove and drove and drove home. It was worth it. Why? Because the weather was incredible, but that's the minor reason. It was worth it because my daughter-in-law made me a cup of chai and chatted with me, and because she wanted me to see the model of the house they want to build. Because she let me take her daughter to the movie with me. Because the grandkids enjoyed the craft I brought them. Because they hung around me and wanted to be with me and I wanted to be with them. Because I braved the cold water in the pool, instantly got used to it, and the kids all wanted to play and race, and show off their swimming tricks. Because my oldest grand daughter played the piano for me. Because we all hung out together and enjoyed each other. I could tell.

The Power of Minor Connections

Today as I was coming out of the Maverick Station with a big, icey drink, I noticed a wreck of a car parked next to mine. Inside was an overweight, long grey pony-tailed woman in a huge white stained T-shirt. She got out of the car and spoke to me and to my surprise she was a man. He said "Your car is a really nice color." (My car is Honda Orange Revolution) I thanked him and we talked just for a few seconds. As I drove off, the weirdest warm feeling came over me. He had made a comment about something that I identified with. I bought that car because of the color. I had connected with a human being, or rather, he had connected with me in such a pleasant way. My opinion of this person changed after he spoke to me so pleasantly. I wish he knew how his connecting comment had made me feel. Lately I have been becoming more aware how connections with other members of the human race are so vital to our happiness. Connections with the people in our social circle, friends and family, AND connections with strangers. Tomorrow, I am going to make a nice comment to someone.

Connecting with Old Memories

My life has taken some unplanned twists and turns. Today is June 6th, 2011. If I were still married to my first husband, today would have been our 42nd wedding anniversary. June 6, 1969 was a terrible day. He was supposed to pick me up at my parent's house at 9:00 a.m. Instead, as I later heard from his mother, he sat in their driveway in his packed car for hours deciding whether to get married or just to take off for California where he had a summer job. Finally he picked me up at 1:00 p.m. and he drove me to the LDS Temple in Idaho Falls. When we got there, after fishing around in his pockets, he realized he had left the marriage license, his Temple recommend, and the ring at home. He sent his best man for the license. The Temple President called his Bishop and Stake President for reports of worthiness. We married without the ring, but not before his mother had the President call us into his office for a private meeting. He asked us if we loved each other. We said yes. He asked us if we were going to obey all of God's commandments. We said yes. "Then go get married!", he said. At the time I thought his mother didn't like me, but looking back, maybe she did. Preventing that marriage might have been the nicest thing she could have done for me, but, of course I never would have known. I need to write her a thank-you.

It was customary for the groom's parents to arrange a dinner after the wedding, but since our engagement was so erratic (off and on 13 times), they hadn't made any arrangements. Al and I went to Arctic Circle for a hamburger but it was closed. If I had been seeking for a sign that this marriage was not a good idea, it would have to have been a direct vision of God conking me on the head and saying, "You idiot, can't you see he doesn't love you? Give it up, already!" I was a needy, pathetic, desperate little girl. Anyway, after that inauspicious beginning, the marriage was all downhill after that.

Stella At Her First Recital

You might think that Stella's too young
But she goes to ballet just for fun.
So she goes and she dances
Does her leaps, twirls and prances,
Unaware the recital is done.

Baby Ballet

You might think that two years old is too young to go to ballet class. Stella has been going to ballet for the last few months and today was her recital. She fell asleep in the car on the way and was grouchy when she woke up. She cried and refused to put her costume on. Finally Stephanie just left her there crying and went to her seat. The MC got up and warned the parents to not be disappointed if their children were less than cooperative. We waited with baited breath to see if Stella would come, or not, on stage for the beginning promenade. And she did! She actually had her costume on and looked happy and compliant . She was doing leaps and twirls just like all the other little girls, then followed her class offstage. When it came time for her dance, she cooperated and did her little dance so cute, then followed her class offstage. The kicker was the finale. Each class came on, did their twirls then sat with their group on stage. Everyone except Stella. She struck a little pose when she sat down then leaped back up to dance with the next group. Then she sat down with that group. By the time they took their bows, she was on a roll. She just kept on dancing. She stole the show and the MC even said, "Isn't Stella cute?" Stella was stellar!

A Profusion of Confusion

Today in Church the teacher was talking about the Spirit and how we need to live worthy to keep the Spirit with us in order to receive personal revelation. This goes against my personal revelation experience. Twenty one years ago I thought about going to work. The Prophet of the LDS Church at that time was vocal about mother's staying at home to care for children. I had seven children to take care of, so, of course, I had some internal conflict about doing this. So I thought I would just snoop around a bit. I looked into some jobs......$5.00 an hour jobs. Not for me. I was never going to feel good about taking a $5.00 an hour job. So I sauntered down to BYU Salt Lake and found out that it would take me two years to get a teaching certificate, even though I already had a Bachelor's Degree. That was pretty depressing. On the way home I was driving past Jordan School District offices and impulsively turned into the parking lot. When I told the receptionist that I was considering being a teacher, voila! she took me to the office of the Assistant Superintendent! How did that happen? He talked to me for a few minutes and when he asked me what my undergrad was in, and I told him Psychology, he escorted me down to Fulvia Nicholsen's office. She is still the Program Specialist for Guidance Programs only now her last name is different. She talked to me for a long time and encouraged me to apply to the program even though I was 43 years old. "You're just a pup!" Now she calls me an old goat. When she said that as a School Psychologist I would start out on the top end of the pay scale instead of the bottom, as a teacher, and that it would take me the same amount of time to Certify, I was sold! When I walked out of her office, I told her I would be back in two years to apply for a job. Well, that was a bit over-confident since I hadn't even applied for Graduate School. But I had the strangest rush of energy as I walked out of the building. That energy stayed with me for three years. At that time I had a nervous breakdown.

My point is, that I was seeking direction on a path that was against what the Prophet was expounding. I feel like I received not only spiritual confirmation of my decision but enough spiritual support to carry me through the admission process, the two years of Graduate School, and an Internship. Go figure.

The Hanging Plant Hook

Today George and I were at Home Depot buying a pear tree. I saw a woman take a plant hook to the cashier to ask how much it cost. He said $7.00 and she took it back. I have a beautiful plant hook. I bought it for Williams Wedding Reception at Scott and Mim's house. I put it at the end of their driveway and hung flower baskets on it. I used it for a few years, then decided that my yard was too gooky and I decided to take it to the Thrift Store. But I kept forgetting.

I walked up to the woman at Home Depot and told her that I had a nice plant hook and that if she followed me home she could have it. She threw her arms around me and planted a kiss on my cheek. She followed us home and she loved the hanging plant hook. She said it was for her daughter's wedding in July. As she was loading it into her Jeep she said that after she used it for her daughter's wedding that she would give it to someone else for their wedding reception. It would be the Wedding Hanging Plant Hook. She hugged and kissed me four or five times. She even hugged George. And we didn't even exchange names.

Positive Psychology Podcasts

When you experience negative emotions, it takes at least three positive experiences to counteract the feeling. If one doesn't take charge of one's own happiness, it won't happen, especially if you are hard wired for misery. The podcast today said that journaling, even bad experiences, increases ability to cope. But my point today is that you can experience positive experiences many times by 1) writing it, 2) telling other people about it, and reading what you wrote.

Also today some scientist was talking about self-control. He postulated that any exercise in self-control increases self-control in other areas.

For Teacher Appreciation Week, one of the gifts I received in a cutesy little party bag, was a chocolate bar. I didn't eat it. It has been sitting in my cupboard for about a week now, a visual reminder that having self control IS an option. The school setting has multiple land mines in every direction, donuts, tootsie rolls, cookies, M & M's (I took the whole bucket to my office) I think I might make a collection of the things I choose not to eat.

Following Satan

Sunday in Church, the discussion was on the Priesthood. George raised his hand and commented on how he knew a woman who committed suicide because she didn't want her husband to lose his job as a Seminary Teacher and his ability to provide for the family. The woman next to me said "Well, I guess SHE was following Satan!"

It was my sister Janine. Janine's suicide was much more complicated than that. She had been severely depressed for two years and had even been diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder. But it is a fact that she felt trapped in her marriage and that her thinking was irrational. Was she following Satan? That comment hurt me to the bone, and I don't even believe in Satan. If anything, he was following her.

Saag Prologue

I put too much cayenne in the Saag. So I went to Costco and got a giant bag of Spinach. Not only did I add more spinach, but I also added the mustard greens that Noelle gave me, and some left over stringy asparagus, whirling it all up with my magic and fabulous Bamix immersion blender. Oh yeah, I also added some garbanzo beans,which gave it a grainy texture and went nicely with the stringy asparagus. And a pint of fat free sour cream. It looked ugly but it didn't taste like anything. So I carmelized some more onions and garlic and tossed them in. So, if you have been attentive, you may have noticed that this could be a runner up for the healthiest concoction on the planet, or maybe even the universe. Because I am so concerned with making these healthy soups, I do not have time to exercise.

The Mother Bear Syndrome

Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh! I observed a little boy in class. He had voluntarily isolated his desk from the rest of the students. He was upset when someone accidentally bumped his desk. He wouldn't go to Vehicle Day, which looked dang fun to me! He was upset by the sirens from the fire engine. He was very perfectionistic with his work. In short, he demonstrated a few Aspergers characteristics. His teacher thinks he's an Aspy, too. But I didn't want to do Autism testing without the parent's knowledge. So, I did what any self-respecting School Psychologist would do. I called the mom. "Mrs. So and So. While I was observing your son, I noticed that he did a few things that are typical of Aspergers Syndrome and I didn't want to do any testing without your permission." Silence. I knew by the silence that I had not taken a soft enough approach when I said the word "Asperger's", so I did the best I could at damage control and she seemed OK at the end of the conversation. But she didn't want testing. And she wasn't OK. Today she came in fuming mad and observed her son in class, steam coming out of all head orifices. The teacher did the best she could to comfort her and heal the wounds inflicted by the evil witch psychologist. I'm embarrassed and regret not being more empathic when I called her. I, of all people, know that when discussing a woman's child, you step lightly. Damn!

Counting Calories

Today I did not eat a 240 calorie Hershey bar, nor did I go to a baby shower at work where I peeked in and saw 1000's of calories glaring back at me in their luscious,chocolate costumes. I jumped back, slammed the door shut, with my back to the door, and breathed hard at such a narrow escape. Later, George and I went to an amazing quilt show (some of which were more amazing than the Mona Lisa)(Yes, REALLY!) and did not buy a $15 bag of sugared cashews. I will estimate this bag at about an additional 1000 calories. So if one pound equals 3000 calories, I only have 260 more calories to lose one pound. Using this sort of logic, I have gained exactly 10 pounds.

The More You Give 'Em, The Less They Appreciate It

Lori is an aide at Silver Crest where I work. She and her husband had one son and then couldn't have anymore children so they adopted a little girl at birth, Jenna. She has been nothing but trouble. When she was 14 she ran off with an older teen age boy to California to carry out a suicide pact. By a miracle, Lori drove down and retrieved her before it happened. They took her straight to a program for troubled girls where she stayed for a year. Jenna has been home six months now and Lori just found out that she called her old dysfunctional friends and they have been smoking pot at lunch time. She also had bolts screwed into her hip bones and they got infected. The other day Lori lost it and started screaming at her. Lori is the mildest person you can imagine, but she screamed everything she had been thinking for the last few years and more. The daughter just sat and looked her with no emotion. Lori hit bottom and said that she finally realized that nothing she did, was going to help Jenna. She came into my office crying yesterday and I was able to share some of my insights. But right now, Lori hates Jenna. It is painful to watch what Lori is going through.

Saag, Chapter One

I go to Indian restaurants and eat Saag and just love it! Even if it is ugly. Then I go home and make it following a recipe (I wonder if I have ever in my life actually followed a recipe with no deviations)and it is so ugly I can't eat it and no one else will either. Here I go again. I'm going into the kitchen to make Saag.

Gratitudinizing

I have been interested in positive psychology lately. Shawn Achor maintains that there are five simple things to do to improve one's happiness quotient, 1) Write three things you are grateful for every day, 2) Write and describe in detail one positive experience every day, 3) Meditation, 4) Do a random act of kindness, and 5) Exercise.

This is April 28, 2011. Today I am grateful for Shanone, who rode to Idaho with me to visit our mothers last weekend. We had such a wonderful time soaking at Lava Hot Springs, eating and talking. I am also grateful that she is on my team at work and that Sheila and Jessica, who are also on the team, are on the team. Also, I am glad that I am at two beautiful, new school, where I have very nice offices and bright surroundings.

Something good that happened today: Miss Obrey stopped me in the hall to give me a "hall referral" and I asked her to email me so I wouldn't forget. When I took her the Permission for Counselling, she said, "Thanks, you are awesome." Also when I told KP that we had a parent meeting set up for Monday for an at-risk student, he said, "Perfect." Made me feel good. I enjoy working for him.

Minutia

I had such a pleasant day today. When I got up I started writing a list of possible things to do. At the time of my first interruption, I had one thing on my list: Clean car. I accomplished this task at 4:30 p.m.

George bought an airplane today. An airplane with a history. A couple of months ago we read in the news that some guy had been killed when he wrecked his homemade airplane into someone's yard. Yes, that is the airplane George bought.

Go for the Gold!

No pun intended, but when I made the uneducated choice to go to Midas Creek Elementary, I struck gold. It is a beautiful, new school, with a wonderful, supportive principal (who told my supervisor that he couldn't say enough good things about me)(love that guy), and I have a big gorgeous office. But best off all, my team rocks! We are all from Idaho, three from the Blackfoot area and me. Sheila is the resource teacher and team leader. She is about my age, funny as hell, we even weigh the same! Best of all, she loves buying clothes! I can't believe my luck! We shop together and create outfits to show each other. The other day when we were lamenting our middle age middles, Sheila came up with the idea that whoever lost 8 pounds first could have something from the other's closet. We have been tormenting each other ever since, mentioning the most very expensive items in the other's wardrobe as possible rewards. This has had such a motivating effect on me. I have gained 3 pounds.