Benjy has issues with the tooth fairy. The child kept his first tooth for days before he was willing to put it under his pillow. Even for money. Yes, I know! Mr. Krabs himself was practically kissing his coins goodbye! Benjy tends to hoard his teeth, you see. I'm not sure why. They're cute, but come on. Money buys more here in Connecticut than teeth. (Though not much, I tell you.)


Skip a few tooth stories and we arrive at the third tooth ago, the one sweet Camden knocked out last year. By accident, of course. And it was really, really loose. He could have blown it out, truth be told. Still, it made for a good story.

And the next one - knocked out by Camden using a headlock and a threat to shoot his baby brother if he didn't give him all his money. (Again, show me the money.) I have to concede, here, that this was an accident, too. And it was during a hardy game of shoot-em-up. Initiated by Camden, my violent child.


Finally, blessed heavenly days, Benjy legitimately lost a tooth all by himself and was all set to trade it for money since he's saving for a Bey Blade. But then he dropped it in the trash. Accidentally, you know. Camden was the first to try to save the day when he leaned his head into the garbage. Never have I been so proud. Then Curt began to sift through the rubble. Once he gave up, I tried to be the hero. But that tooth was nowhere to be found. Benjy cried until he himself had a go at sorting trash. By the time he was done, he needed to change his pajamas again. But still, no tooth.


The child was inconsolable. He declined dinner, ready to head to bed when Curt turned on a long-time favorite movie, Bedtime Stories. Swayed by Adam Sandler, Benjy decided he wasn't really that tired and settled down to cuddle up with me on the couch. And that was the best part of Benjy losing his tooth. Literally.


We snuggled till the movie's end, then photoboothed ourselves before bedtime. And once my baby was parked in his room, he penned this delight:


Yes, I am aware that it's in reverse. I can't make it go right. So use a mirror, people.
Can you see why I love this kid?

Do you do the one-word thing? Where you choose one word as your guide word to steer you through the next 525,600 minutes? I do. I don't remember where it started, but it became a big deal a few years ago in the scrapbooking blogs I used to read. Though I've lost my desire for creating big honkin' albums packed with memories that weigh more than my dog, I still like to choose a word to steer me through a new year. And this year's word came to me right around Christmas.

Gratitude.

It came to me as I was catching up on some blogs I had been following over the summer months. Blogs I'd lost as school closed in and my time slipped away. I rediscovered one I had particularly loved by a lady named Edie. She's a physician who gave it up to be a full-time homeschooling mom who happens to have an eye for making her house a beautiful home filled with love and joy and a deep reverence for God. She's parked here at Life In Grace.


On the Tuesday before Christmas, Edie's home burned to the ground. A complete loss. This home that I feel like I've visited because I've seen the pictures of where the girlies learn, her amazing kitchen and its chalkboard GIVE THANKS wall, the yummy chocolate orange cake, shots of the books she reads. Edie, her husband, children, and two dogs made it out safely. And while Edie has written a bit about the dichotomy of feeling both gratefulness and despair, she continually turns to God's love and mercy - his GRACE that saved her family.

"I cannot plumb the depths
of his love and mercy."

That kind of gratitude is so pure, and the way she writes about it - threaded through all her posts, whether in times of disaster or pure joy - is inspiring. So while I don't know Edie in person, I feel a depth of gratitude to God for using her in the blogging world to touch me and teach me a thing or two about what really matters in this life. Edie has allowed God to use her for a mighty purpose. "Little did I know then that God is in the business of shattering vessels, so that His treasure—-Christ—-can be poured out on others." She wrote that about how God led her to quit her job and be at home with her young girls.

Right now Edie's blogging friends are lifting her up in prayer all over the country. I want to join them. Incidentally, today is Edie's birthday. Happy birthday, Edie. I thank God for YOU. I pray peace to your family. I know you know that God is with you, holding you all in his hands right NOW.

Today I'm feeling a whole lot of gratitude. My sinus infection headache is G.O.N.E. GONE!
For those of you as curious as I am about medical issues, here is a picture of me when the headache was at its worst. I was a fright, I tell ya. I'd do this for Halloween, except it hurt too much.

Now that my antibiotics have had 96 hours to fight that infected pus-filled maxillary sinus cavity, however, I look more like this:

Here I am programming a pack of C4 to explode the waste basket where all my leftover tissues infect the rest of my trash.

I like the new me way better than the old me.
And that's something to feel grateful for.



You're not believing your eyes, are you?



There's a reason for that.



I don't have a bluetooth earpiece.



Or a pack of C4.







And, well, I don't have long hair either.

And I don't have enough time to put that many bangles on my wrists.





I'm guilty. I just lied to you, my faithful readers. That's Fiona from Burn Notice. But let me tell you, I felt so fine today that I COULD have looked like that if I had tried. (and if I had some extensive plastic surgery, a hair weave, some lessons in how to sit up straight, and some palm trees for the backdrop)

I just love my new blog template. It makes me think of the beach.

OK, the thought is over.
This is wintertime.

I had a dream about Daddy last night. It was such a warm, soft blanket kind of dream. Daddy was at his best, his strongest. No cancer, no rheumatoid arthritis, no weight loss or fatigue. It was the middle of the night, and he was slipping into his tan winter jacket before going to help out the men in Coeburn.

In true life, Dad HATED snow with every fiber of his being. And whenever the first flakes started to coat our mountain roads, he would launch into Town Manager Mode, hop in his town car (that's town with a lowercase t, mind you), and drive the 15 minutes down the road to be with the men. He'd stay at the public works department till the roads were plowed. He wasn't overseeing the men, though. He was helping, encouraging. Sometimes he'd take a turn at the snow plow. But always he just wanted to be there because it was the right thing to do.

Whenever I asked him why he was such a wet blanket about snow, he'd offer his soft-spoken, oft-said monologue about the men and how they would have to leave their families to go take care of the town, and that he thought that was just a terrible thing. So Daddy sacrificed his own family time to stand with his men in solidarity. Then he'd come home, usually exhausted and hungry, and he'd be back with us.

This was my real-life dad. I always accepted his work ethic and loved him. But I never realized how special his brand of caring was until one of Coeburn's men talked to me at the side of Dad's casket a year ago. He reminded me of those snow plow days, how Daddy always showed up no matter the time. He even told me that Dad sometimes brought along our Elkhound/Shepherd Candie for company. I hadn't remembered that. Candie the Snow Plow Dog, the man called her. I swear, there were tears glistening in the corners of this man's eyes when he told me that story. Never had I been more proud of the man I called Dad.

This is Dad with Benjy at my cousin's wedding in 2007.

For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning. - T.S. Eliot

2010

Benjy's favorites:
blue and green
pizza
Veggie Tales opening
Tom and Jerry
Sponge Bob and Knuffle Bunny
"Whenever me and Camden builded a big snow pile."
the ice cream truck's Sponge Bob on a stick
Lemonade

Curt's favorites:
green
buffalo wings
Carol of the Bells
Burn Notice
Backyard Homestead
driving MY truck at Hatteras beach
vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup
Diet Coke

Camden's favorites:
blue
Big Macs and fried chicken sandwiches
Sweet Home Alabama
Man Tracker
Wimpy Kid - Ugly Truth
Rushing downstairs on Christmas morning
ice cream
Diet Coke

My favorites:
yellow
fried baloney
You and Me - DMB
Burn Notice
Gone With the Wind
taking Camden and Benjy to Hatteras
Butterfingers
chocolate milk

We'll see what 2011 has for us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan on my Kindle for Droid. It came in real handy today when I was waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting ...
to learn that I had bronchitis and a sinus infection.

So I'm reading and realizing something. All the time I spend worrying about getting enough sleep, fretting over whether Camden will have clean pants for school, agonizing that I've not made a decent dinner with no preservatives since 1997, freaking out when Curt doesn't answer his cell phone and I'm at the doctor's without my debit card and no way to pay my co-pay (grrrrrrr). Well.
All that won't matter.

See, I wasn't placed here to worry. I wasn't born into this story on earth - which isn't even MY story, my starring role - for any reason except to love God. And Jesus tells me to do it with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my soul. I have no room for worry if I'm doing what Jesus asked me to do.

So, a new year dawns, and naturally I start to think of ways to make it better.
This year I'm going to focus on God. Not me.
I want to love God more.
Love things less.
I want to love him so much that people will notice God shining through me.
And when I screw up, forget, worry, and fret, then I will cling to his mercy and grace, pick myself up, and start anew.
I love you, God!


Phil 1: 9-11 ~ So this is my prayer: that your love will flourish and that you will not only love much but well. Learn to love appropriately. You need to use your head and test your feelings so that your love is sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush. Live a lover's life, circumspect and exemplary, a life Jesus will be proud of: bountiful in fruits from the soul, making Jesus Christ attractive to all, getting everyone involved in the glory and praise of God.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Time for BUCKEYES! And by buckeyes, I don't mean those nutty OSU people that I was proud to call my neighbors a few years back. (Still, they're nuts, I tell you!)

I mean buckeyes that you can eat. The kind that taste like Reese cups but better. I discovered this recipe last year and have been listening to Eaglescout beg for them since. In my steadfast devotion to Christmas, however, I refused to make them till now. I'm that good of a wife.


Here is a bag of buckeyes. I came home from school today and whipped up three batches of these. I don't know how many bags that made because I am not in any sort of mood to count them. I can tell you, though, that I am quite pooped after this endeavor.

Actually, these are an easy fix. Here's the recipe I found that I swear by. Even if it calls for margarine instead of butter. I guess there have to be some things margarine is good enough for.

Today was my turn to share in morning devotions at school. So lately I have been checking out my favorite online devotionals and blogs in search of a something of significance to share. Of course, there are a few requirements on my part to make it Say It Out Loud Worthy.

1) It needs to be shortish.
2) It needs to be a little light, but not irreverent.
3) It needs to have a tiny tad of humor built in. Because God created laughter, after all.

And so after searching far and wide, I found this post from Tracie Miles of the Proverbs 31 Ministries - I Know Him!



Immediately, I fell in love with the Elf clip, and I knew I had stumbled onto something. But, was it God-worthy? I read her blog entry that went with it, and totally felt it at the beginning, but then I lost the momentum when I got to her dream sequence. It was a great dream, yeah, but it wasn't my dream. It's hard to translate enthusiasm for another's dream when I have to make it sound real and poignant and worthy.

So I started searching for Bible passages about enthusiasm. There are a few, to be sure, but I didn't find anything that would completely say what I was trying to capture. Picture this - every time someone says "Santa" in the clip, say "Jesus". That's what I was going for.

In the end, I prayed at bedtime, asking God to give me something. When I woke up, I found on my printer the first part of Tracie's post, the part before the dream. The part where I was right there with her, longing for the enthusiasm of Elf/Buddy. Yes, I know I printed it out before I went to bed, but I also had printed out a whole bunch of other pages from a whole bunch of other blogs. But this morning, when I was walking out the door, this was the one that was on top of the stack. It was like God said, "Hey, use this, Wendi. It's worthy. It's short. It's light but reverent. And I like reverent. And it's funny. I like funny. That's why I make your hair look like it does when you wake up."

I practically skipped to devotions, laptop in hand, ready to share. I'm so glad I had the sense to pray about this last night. It's so hard to tell what I'd have shared had I left it up to me.

So I leave you with the thought for the day: Every time you hear the name SANTA on the Elf clip, think JESUS. If someone told you he was going to show up at 10 a.m. for pictures with children, would you just totally scream,

"JEEEEEESUUUUUUUUUUUUS, JEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I KNOOOOW HIM!!!!!!!
I KNOOOOOOOOW HIM!!!!!!!!!
YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We started December in 2nd grade without a tree. It's not that I had no trees at home, but that I'm a selfish woman and wanted to keep my trees to myself. Some things you just don't share. I mentioned to one mom that if she happened to have a spare tree, we sure could use one. Then I mentally smacked myself for expecting somebody else to spare their conifers when I wouldn't dream of parting with mine. But God is good, and he brings goodness even when we're naughty. The next day, this parent brought in a brand new four-footer for KEEPS! Imagine that! We wrapped it in lights and basked in its glow.

Then it sat, lit but unadorned. I couldn't imagine buying ornaments for our perfect tree when we were the craftiest class in Connecticut. So I turned to my best teacher friend - Miss Internet and found enough ideas to last a score of Christmases.

Here's what we've done so far:

Baby Jesus in a manger.

We simply hot-glued two popsicle sticks together, hot-glued raffia to that, then glued Baby Jesus (a wooden ice cream spoon) to the "hay". We topped him off with a piece of felt and drew on his face. Don't you love how Benjy gave him freckles? Well, he could have had freckles. Some children gave him a tooth. :)


This bulletin board was a blast to make! I found applications online to apply for Santa's head reindeer position should Rudolph retire. One girl wrote on hers that she has fast and had GPS. I think she may land this gig. Personally, I'd hire this cutie.


I just printed up pictures I had of the kids, cut them out, glued them to green paper, and then let them cut and glue their antlers on. Monday I'll bring in pom poms and they'll glue those on their noses. Some will be red, I'm sure. But Benjy says his will be blue.

Christmas crafting rocks. :) :) :)

I have always had a thing for mail – a fetish, if you will. I love mail. I love to smell it, rummage through the envelopes and slice them open with a paring knife, stack it up in neat little piles and sit back and ogle it. When I was a kid, I’d wait by the front steps for Mail Man Fred just praying I’d get a package of Dr. Seuss books. To this day, my heart beats a little faster whenever I check the mailbox. I’m not choosy; all kinds of mail does this to me – junk mail, magazines, letters and cards, and catalogs. Oh, yes, I do love those catalogs.

These days, especially around Christmas, catalogs come pouring into my mailbox. Beautiful ones like Anthropologie and Pottery Barn. Boring ones like Cabelas and Camping World. Fun ones from Lego and cheap ones from Oriental Trading. In spite of all this glossy, smelly print, though, there’s been a huge hole in the catalog section of my heart ever since Sears stopped sending their Wishbook to customers years and years ago.

As kids, my sister and I just knew Santa Claus got all of our toys from Sears. From the day the Wishbook was delivered till Christmas, we’d race home from school eager to circle and dog ear the pages and examine the toys we wanted – oh, needed! That catalog was our link to the greater beyond, as we had no toy stores in our tiny mountain town. In our minds, the Sears Wishbook WAS a toy store, and it was located directly at the North Pole.

My own children have no idea what it’s like to not see a toy till the Christmas catalog was delivered. They don’t know how to wait and wait, circle and bend pages, and wait some more. They see everything they want on TV, the commercials ingrained in their little heads so that they wake up singing their jingles. My boys recognize the toys as soon as they hit the shelves at Target. They even know Toys R Us and mall stores charge more for the same toy than Wal Mart does. They’re a lot savvier than I was when it comes to toy shopping.

It’s sad, though, that the toy magic that surrounded me as a child has vanished with the Wishbook. Do kids have any reason to wait by the mailbox these days? Do they know how to circle and dog-ear and surreptitiously leave an opened catalog on the kitchen counter? Is there still a division of Sears at the North Pole?

Regardless, the Christmas Wishbook is no more. That special magic of a long time ago will never arrive in a heavy catalog again. I’ll have to find another way to capture some magic and weave it into my postal dreams. Perhaps I’ll go home today and find an elf sitting in my mailbox.

It seems that I have nothing to say.
And yet, I want to say so much!

Things I love about weekends:

Sleeping in.
This morning, the electric went off at 8:01. I know that because the whir of the fan suddenly stopped. The room was silent, but for the birds, which aren't electric.

I rolled over and rested in the knowledge that morning was whenever I wanted it to be.

I got up three minutes later.

No Snack Time.
On school days, 9:00 a.m. is snack time. And let me tell you, the tummies of my 2nd graders tell them that snack time is guaranteed to happen at 9 a.m. SHARP.

Since I tend to wake up at snack time on the weekend, I don't even need a snack.
Just coffee.
Black, please.

No Lesson Plans.
I didn't refer to any state standards for learning today. Just God's.

Exercise.
I walked from Red Robin to Michael's.

I'm still awake at 11:40 p.m.
That never happens on a school night.

I would show you a picture of the wax glob that came out of Camden's left ear on Tuesday. But I didn't get a picture of that. Too bad for you.

What we now have is a left ear with an infection known as swimmer's ear. Yesterday, Camden was at 25%, though he claimed many times that he would rather be at flat zero.

Today he's at three quarters.

Tomorrow he plans to be at nine dimes.

As I type, he's tying knots using his new knot book. Right beside me, watching Royal Pains. At almost 11 p.m. It's so cool having a son who is a night owl like me.


Here are the boys being cordial.
Isn't it lovely?
Fabulous?
They are friendly, respectful, kind.
This is the golden rule, people.
I actually spend weeks teaching this!


Here you see Benjy digging.
Or trying to dig.
I think the thrill is in digging, not so much the hole.



My new favorite shot of Camden. Even with an earful of infection, he's still such a blessing.
Of course, this is his healthy ear.


And Camden making his Coke Zero ad.


Finally, the family of geese we saw as we left the point on Tuesday.
Look, it's Curt,
Camden,
Benjy,
and
me.

Just look at that blue sky, people!

It was like this all day long yesterday.

And there was even a little breeze to keep things exciting.


The waves were wild on the ocean side at the Point yesterday. Camden took some ferocious tumbles, but lived to watch the video I made of it.

Yeah, it was all worth the bumps and scrapes when he could relive his 6 seconds of glory on video.


Camden's favorite point of interest, besides the Atlantic ocean, is this torpedo-turned-shark yard art we pass between our beach cottage and everything else we visit.


My favorite siting so far, and has been every year, is this space ship house.

Can you believe that blue water?

Summer.

Ah, what a sweet, sweet word.



Well, if you're a teacher, that is.



Here is a list, in no particular order, of things I love about summer vacation.



1. Staying up till midnight. Then reading my Bible, followed by my latest novel till 1.



2. Waking up at 6 a.m. and rolling over and going back to sleep. Till 9.



3. Getting up at 9 and staying in my pajamas (pronounced pa-JAM-es) till whenever I dingdang feel like not wearing them.



4. Knowing that every day is Friday.



5. Oh, yeah, playing with the Wild Things! This includes, but is not limited to,

building Lego castles,
swimming in the redneck pool out back,
reading (yes, I make them read.),
frog-catching at the park,
making brownies,
making banana bread,
making pizzas,
eating,
going to the library,
snuggling.

6. Taking a nap with Emmalemmalimabean. (She's my dog, people.)



7. Going to the bathroom when the mood hits. Seriously, one of the few drawbacks of being a teacher is peeing on a schedule.



8. Checking Facebook whenever I want.



9. Planning the annual Hatteras Island vaca.



10. Shall I watch Fox News or Rachel Rae?

I am a recent reader of Vodkamom's blog. No, I don't drink vodka, but I do like the vodka mom's blog. She's a teacher and is quite hilarious in that teacherly way. I dare say, this lady does not wear seasonal sweaters and sensible shoes. Well, maybe comfy shoes.

Anywho, she likes The Queen's Meme blog, so I clicked on it and discovered a meme!!!!!!! Imagine that! A meme is, technically, a cultural unit (an idea or value or pattern of behavior) that is passed from one person to another by non-genetic means (as by imitation); memes are the cultural counterpart of genes.

In layman's terms, it's a fill-in-the-blank.

Welcome To The Queen's Meme #45
The What Would You Do? Meme

A mixed bag of miscellaneous scenarios

1. You start out on your road trip. You are 90 miles down the road with not a care in the world until you remember you forgot the most important ingredient needed for your vacation. What was it and would you turn around and go back to get it?

Ummmm, it was probably my hair dryer. And I would most definitely NOT waste 90 miles home and 90 miles back again - that's 180 miles wasted - when I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that there will be a Wal-Mart somewhere nearby and I can just buy one. I'm sure I could use an extra hair dryer anyway.

2. You are standing in the checkout line at the grocery store. A homeless man walks by and asks for food from your grocery cart. What would you do?

I'd give him some food. "If you have two coats, give one away," he said. "Do the same with your food." Luke 3:11

3. The mailman delivers the wrong mail. It is your neighbor's. You can't stand your neighbor. You realize that inside the small brown package there must be something very secretive, very intriguing and possibly incriminating. What do you do?

I'd give it to the neighbor. Keeping it is stealing. And that's just not right. Reap what you sow and all that jazz.

4. Photography Class 101. First exam. The slide show you are presenting is the wrong one. You accidentally left last weekend's party pics in the camera instead. The whole class is watching....

For starters, although I was not a perfect college kid, I was not THAT bad. I partied a bit. I got more than buzzed on a few occasions. My mom even forced me to go to church and then endure a drive through the valley on mornings after. Yeah, she was that mean. :) But I wasn't THAT bad. Still, if this happened, which according to meme rules, I am to pretend it did, I would probably fake illness, beg out of class, and finish the show next week. Then again, I'm a terrible liar. I'd most def confess that I have the wrong pictures, plead for a chance to sprint to my dorm and get the right ones, and return to finish the exam. The professor would have to appreciate my situation, no???

5. You find your boss's wife on Facebook. She is obviously carrying on with another man in blatant fashion and behind his back. What is the first thing that pops into your head when you see your boss the next day at work?

Well, obviously, I would remember the FB debacle. DUHHHHHHHHHHHHH. But I would N.E.V.E.R. say a peep. I'm the queen of decorum. And decorum requires shushness. It's not my business.

6. Your plane lands in the wrong vacation spot but you like this one better.

Does that mean I have to tell???? Technically, I guess I do. Considering how I need to get back home and all. This is a no-brainer. Enjoy the stay till I get where I belong.

7. You walk out of the doctor's office. The news after your yearly checkup is very very good but the news for the person you'd been sitting beside and chatting with in the waiting room is very very bad. You see them in the elevator on the way out and they are in tears. You.....

Yikes! I am horrible at knowing what to say. Frankly, I'd pray. God will give me the words. I cannot even predict what those would be. I just know He'd provide.

And there you have it. My first meme response in a waaaaaaaaay long time.
I think I'll play this game again!

Is anybody out there thinking, "GET RID OF NINA!"????? If you're watching HGTV's Design Star, then you probably are. Because Nina is, well, not so much my favorite girl on earth.

And there you go. In the time it took me to type the first paragraph, Nina is GONE. Say it with me, G.O.N.E.!!!!!!!

In other news, we're home from our inaugural camping trip in Viv (the camper). She did great, and we're so proud. Her abundance of Wendi-covered pillows came in handy, even if Eaglescout found them tossed all over the place by the time we parked at the camp site. I tell you, the way to camp is most def in a camper with air conditioning, a toilet, shower, and electricity. There is simply no other way.

OK, more later when I upload some pictures. See you on FB!

An open letter to my GPS:

Dear Tom Tom,

We had such a lovely drive to West Hartford today. You took us straight to our destination. We traded the clarinet for the trumpet and signed up for lessons. Because every new trumpet player needs lessons. More on this at a later date. When my ears have recovered.


I was so happy with your performance, your lead, your lovely way off the beaten path. My favorite part of you is the screen that says "avoid freeways". I no like freeways.









Your path through Bloomfield to the urban center of West Hartford was pristine, sweet, life in the country. Well, I didn't quite see this, but the houses we did see once sat on this land. Of that I am sure.

And then we arrived.

West Hartford is to me what New York City is to urbanites. It's a mecca of shops, restaurants, on-street parking, and fancy crosswalk signals with sound effects.

I was in a panic. Where do I park? What if I hit someone? Where are the house numbers on these dingdang stores? Oh, please don't let our destination be on the wrong side of the road.

Our destination was on the wrong side of the road. Nonetheless, Tom Tom, it's not your fault.



I was feeling absolutely giddy with our journey across the road and back. I even arrived at the parking meter within SECONDS of the expiration tag popping up. Talk about karma. The boys and I buckled in and set you for the drive back home.

"Avoid freeways."
(which loosely translates "avoid humanity")

Your Aussie self chirped to turn left, then turn right, then bear this way and then that. Go 200 yards, because we aren't willing to go metric till the rest of the country goes first.







I grew a little curious when you didn't turn me around, have me backtrack my path, turn toward the country.





I was perplexed when I saw this. And not a drop from the sky.






And passed these people crossing the street. How do they do that? Cross in broad daylight in their yoga pants?




I grew concerned when I passed this. I don't recall this in Bloomfield.
I know this to be the Hartford capital. This is most def not in Bloomfield.








And while you could have taken me by this lovely vista, you didn't.
Instead, you chose the path with the most bars on the windows, the most pedestrians walking in the MIDDLE OF THE DOGGONE ROAD, the most construction delays EVER.

I think I waved at 13 policemen on a single drive. They all waved back. Poor men. I guess very few drivers give them the time of day. It was 3:40. And 3:50. And 4:00. And 4:10. And 4:20.


There was only one thing left to do when we finally arrived at home.










While you didn't know the way to the other side of the galaxy, I certainly did.



So that's where I went. Sans you.

Summer is here! I'm sleeping till 9:00 - waking well into the morning with the sunlight streaming in through the windows. (I've gotta get those room darkening shades.) I wash my hair and get dressed at the time when my class is finishing lunch and getting ready to settle in for our chapter book read aloud. The kids and I are faced with the difficult choice of going to the park to catch frogs or swimming in our back yard redneck pool. Life is beyond good.

And yet I can't quit thinking about school. I surf the teacher boards and yahoo groups. I read the education blogs. I have stacks of dogeared books by the bed and the couch. In short, I'm a teacher without a class.

Here's what I'm pondering for my group of 2nd graders next year:

~ To theme or not to theme
~ If I go with a theme, will it be camping? beach? frogs? dogs? mystery? Can I even keep up with the madness once I start it?
~ Revamp reading workshop units after finishing Catching Readers Before They Fall.
~ Revamp writing workshop units after finishing Pyrotechnics on the Page.
~ Don't forget the online book study for Pyrotechnics, too.
~ Meet with the curriculum lady at school about setting up the word study program and training teachers on it.
~ Plan room arrangement and math/reading bulletin boards for next year.
~ Sort and level the newer books for the classroom library. Slap labels on them. Pick up some new $1.00 tubs at Dollar Tree for them.
~ Hunt for bean bag chairs at yard sales and thrift stores.
~ Pray for a document camera, computer projector of my very own, a new computer with a giant monitor, and/or a Smartboard.
~ Print and assemble beginning of the year calendar folders, offices, welcome letters, newsletter template, birthday badges, desk toppers, etc. (Etc. covers everything I think of between now and Aug. 24.)
~ Hit Staples Teacher Appreciation Days and shop Target's Back to School sales. Can't have too much paper, too many pencils, enough markers and glue and staples.
~ View Responsive Classroom videos.
~ Catch up on wrestling moves.

I know there's more. I just know it. And I'll probably think of it around 3:11 a.m. and get up to write it down. I sure hope not.

Sunday Haiku

I spent the morning reading over my old blog posts from waaaaaay back when Benjy was virtually speechless and Camden was a wee lad. I had forgotten about my habit of posting a Sunday haiku. So, without further ado, here's my reinstatement of the poetry form for today.

Painting is the best
Way to update your home's look,
But it hurts your neck.

That is all. Ta ta for now.

So this is our beach.
If we drove an hour south.

This is Benjy chasing a wave.

This is Camden getting warm.

This is what grabbed my attention.
What in the world does that say about me? :) :) :)