One Word at a Time

Tonight, we went to a surprise "Congraduation" party for my brother's best friend.  He just graduated and has begun his work as a P.A. Because of the type of work he does, the party was themed around medicine.  There was "Pin the Bandage on the Boo-Boo", a table of games (including Operation), the desserts were Death by Chocolate, Pills (Mike and Ikes) . . . you get the idea.  Can you tell his wife is an early elementary teacher? We don't often get to see him, and haven't seen much of him at all since he began school.  In her toast, his wife said that it had been the hardest part of their relationship (they've only been married a few years).  They had to spend a lot of time apart, because of rotations and where he was placed. It was so great to see him relaxed, to see them together and smiling, and to know that he is excited about the road ahead. I am battling a ridiculous chest cold, so it was tough to be in the party spirit.  I...

When you meet with a class for the first time, you can immediately tell who the players are.  Where they choose to sit, how they act, how the teacher and aides interact with them - all of this gives you some insight into the children.   You'll always have the "front-rowers" sitting tall, hanging on your every word, almost reaching out to touch you as you walk by.  Then you have your hiders, in the middle rows, cautiously watching everyone around them to make sure they're doing the right thing, never really making eye contact.  And then your "back-rowers", the ones who actually put physical distance between themselves and the instruction, almost needing that extra space in which to exist. I always pay close attention to the "back-rowers" the most.  They're who I have to reach.  Those "front-rowers" - they'll hear everything I want them to say and some things I wish they didn't.  But those "back-rowers" - ...

I can feel the blood running through my veins . . . My senses are heightened, but dulled at the same time . . . My hands tremble atop my keyboard . . . Thoughts, images, ideas - they're running laps in my mind . . . I speak loudly when I mean to speak normally . . . I'm sweating as though I've run a marathon . . . As I raced around the school (there was no leisurely walking), I tried to keep up with the thoughts running through my mind.  I realized I couldn't slow down.  I jotted approximately twelve ideas in my writer's notebook in a matter of minutes.  My leg never stopped bouncing.  My voice was loud.  It was not pretty. During the day, I felt amazing.  I felt like I was making an impact, making a difference, saying what I wanted to say.  It was clarity, it was sharpness, it was a lot of what I feel like I miss every day.  It made me feel superhuman.  But it was false.  I...

Habit. Muscle memory. Routine. Exhaustion. There are lots of names for why I took a left at the light instead of a right.   For the last year and a half, I took a left to go home.  Recently, I discovered a route that will get me home a full five minutes earlier.  (That's five more minutes to exercise. And do the laundry. Or, realistically, sit in a chair in a silent house with my eyes closed.) I get a reward for taking a right.  It isn't challenging - if anything, there are fewer stops, fewer hills, faster speeds.  I've done it enough times that it isn't new anymore.  So why did I turn left today? Change is hard, people. Even silly changes like taking a different route home. They require determination, focus, reinforcement - and also flexibility and a sense of humor. Lord knows before the year is through, I'll take a left a few more times.  If I do, I'll enjoy the view of neighborhoods and school buses, remind myself of the ben...

Planning is fun, if you like juggling a million balls in the air while a dog nips at your ankles. I met with a small group of women on Saturday to plan my future sister-in-law's wedding shower.  Originally planned for mid June, we decided to bump the date up to the end of April.  There's the dog, nipping at my heels. I offered to do invitations.  I love thinking about theme and color and wording and images and clarity and everything that goes with that.  Throw the first ball up in the air. Then we got talking about centerpieces.  We are doing a cooking theme, as she LOVES to be in the kitchen, tinkering with recipes.  I made the mistake of Googling "kitchen themed bridal showers."  Throw three more balls in the air as we decide what centerpieces, favors, etc. match the theme, but add the bridal party in with me to share the load (and maybe keep the dog occupied). Food was decided that day, because with a bunch of women coming, a ch...