Kids

If you have a chance to teach or work with kids in any way, take it.

I used to think that I didn't like kids at all. I thought I couldn't connect with them in any way, and that they're loud and they smell, etc.... Well, yeah, they are loud, and they can smell -- but I know a lot of grown-ups like that too. But I digress.

I've been teaching Sunday School at my church for the past three years now. The first year I taught the 2nd & 3rd graders, then I moved up with them and taught them as 3rd & 4th graders the next year. But then this year I had to let go and move back down to teach a new herd of 2nd & 3rd graders.

Letting go isn't easy. And that crop of kids I taught for two years were very prompt in telling me that they didn't like the fact I wasn't teaching them this fall.

Here is a conversation that took place by the cookies and punch table after service a few Sunday mornings ago. Rebecca is now a 4th grader, and she is a doll. Heck, all of them are hard to resist.

Rebecca (with hands on hips, head cocked to the side): Hey, why aren't you teaching us?
Me: I'm back to teaching the 2nd and 3rd graders this year.
R: You didn't tell us you weren't going to be teaching us.
Me: I thought I did....
R: No, you didn't.
Me: Well, I thought I did, I'm sorry.
R: You should be, you should have told us.
Me: You really wanted me to teach you again this year? You want me three years in a row? I'm pretty tough, and I think you'd get tired of me.
R: No, we wouldn't.

I was being interrogated by an 9 year old wearing a Sponge Bob t-shirt. She eventually uncornered me, but I still get the look from her here and there at church.

Ugh, they are hard to let go. Now they're all getting tall, and they're even smarter than they were before -- this is the class that once threw out the word "antidisestablishmentarianism" for an acrostic and also knew that "Genesis" means "creation." They also asked if God has grandparents. Try walking away from that.

So I still chat with them, but I'm back with a new group of 2nd & 3rd graders. There aren't as many as them, and they aren't as quick with the big words or knowledge of what certain words mean, but they can still make me smile and laugh.

This past week we were talking about Abraham and Sarah having to move away from their home. We sang Father Abraham, then it was down to the drawing time. There's me -- and I'm not that tall at 5'6" and change -- sitting on this tiny chair with them at the tiny table as we all talk about what we would take along with us if we had to make a big move.

"Food!"
"Water!"
"A first-aid kit" (no, that wasn't me)
"A helicopter!"

Not so sure about that one, but James really wanted to draw that on his "Big Move" drawing, so I let him. I helped him write "U-Haul" on the side of it so it made a little more sense with our lesson.

Then one of them said, "What about clothes?" And they all busted up. Then ensued a 10 minute laugh-fest for the four 7 and 8 year olds as they thought about having to move naked.

Okay, I was laughing too.

Peter said, "Hey, James, you have to take clothes along with you in your U-Haul helicopter because what if you crashed and then on the news we heard a story like 'A boy was found naked inside a crashed helicopter today, he forgot his clothes.'"

James added clothes to the U-Haul helicopter and then gave the picture to me. That picture is now on my fridge.

I have no idea

So I get into work this morning and check my blog. On Friday I could go to either
http://www.notserious.blogspot.com or http://notserious.blogspot.com and my website would come up.

Now it's Monday, and when I go to http://www.notserious.blogspot.com, some random picture is up that's certainly not anything I ever put up. Yet http://notserious.blogspot.com is still my website. I have no idea why it's like that. I'm waiting for a reply from the Blogger support folks.

I know I don't pay for my blog site, but come on, if I'm going to sign up for a domain name and give them space for more advertising, then I feel like my domain name shouldn't be all narrowed down like that. Seems odd to me.

We'll see.

Last night I woke up several times because my knees ached really badly.

This morning it rained.

Hi. I'm 25 years old.

Dreams

As a weather enthusiast, I suppose it shouldn't surprise me too much that I dream about tornadoes fairly frequently. One of my dream jobs is to be a storm chaser, and I've just always been fascinated by dem der tornaders.

So anyway, I often look up what it means to dream of tornadoes because I forget every time. Here's what it means according to Dream Moods:

----------------------
Tornados
To see a tornado in your dream, suggests that you are experiencing some extreme emotional outbursts and temper tantrums. Is there a situation or relationship in your life that may be potentially destructive?

To dream that you are in a tornado, signifies that you are feeling overwhelmed and out of control. You will be met with a series of disappointments for the next week or so. Your plans will be filled with complications.

To see several tornadoes in your dream, represent people around you who are prone to violent outbursts and shifting mood swings. It may also symbolize a volatile situation or relationship.
------------------------------

Hmmm. Usually when I dream about tornadoes they never actually hit me, they just swirl around me. And the dream usually involves me hiding in a house. I also usually dream of more than one tornado.

Last night was like that. There was a storm warning out and I ran to the basement of this house. I remember seeing a whole bunch of big swirling tornadoes coming closer. I was trying to keep these two kids downstairs and my cat Spunky, but they all kept trying to run away from me. Interpret that.

ps - Did you know you could take storm chasing vacations? They're expensive, but man, that would be so cool!

Sunday night is the musical talent show at my church. I'm going to be in it, but not to sing. If I were to sing, you can count on people running from the auditorium while covering their bleeding ears.

No, what I will be doing is a first for me. I can play the sax, I can play the piano, but I am learning a new instrument so that I may accompany my wifey and our friend Miles during the song "Rocky Top" by John Denver.

I am learning how to play the spoons.

And it's not sounding too bad, actually.

I don't think I'll branch out to the jaw harp anytime soon, though.

I'll learn you good

I have a good friend who is currently experiencing what it's like to teach freshmen in college. She's teaching one of those "First Year Experience" - type courses and needs help.

She sent out an email asking for the following:

"WANTED: Ideas on how to get college students interested in learning easy material and take it seriously. All ideas welcome. Any ideas that work will be greatly rewarded. This teacher is very sad but optimistic!"

My immediate reaction was "tasers and pepper spray!" - but I decided to also think more and give her some supportive and creative ideas.

The only one I could think up was making kids experience things they're not used to. I always enjoyed projects and classes that made me step out of my comfort zone to learn -- then you not only learn more about yourself, but also about whatever different situation you've been placed into.

So you could require that the students take part all semester in some project -- whether it be regularly serving at a soup kitchen or helping out with Habitat for Humanity, etc... -- something that they've not ever done before. Then make them write regular journal entries about their opinions and views on how they're changing and what they're experiencing.

Or you could even make the students do these projects together -- then they can also learn teamwork and build up a cameraderie with each other. Build some good friendships and also some good views on helping others.

That was all I could think of right off, but if any of you lovely readers out there have any other good ideas, throw them into the comment section and I'll pass them on to my prof. friend.

Ohio

Ah, home. You know, actually, I'm trying to change my lingo there. I'm trying to get myself to say "I'm going back to visit my parents" instead of "I'm going home for a visit" when I return to Ohio for a visit. Boston is becoming a home for me, it's where I'm really the most comfortable now.

But that in no way means I don't enjoy going back to Ohio for a visit. I love to visit because it means time with the family, peace and quiet away from a big city, trees, grass, flowers, lots of cats, and eating a lot of excellent food.

I had a great time during my visit this past weekend. Mom made me a belated chocolate birthday cake (which was excellent, as usual), along with lots of other good food. We went to look at farm equipment at this big farm science review at an Ohio State University Campus. I got to go shopping, play miniature golf (I actually won for once!), see some movies, go to my old church, watch cable TV.

I even got to see my pal Jil from college for the first time in years. We sat eating ice cream and drinking a fru-fru slushie drink at Friendly's. Oh yeah, only the high class for me and my friends. ;) Jil even let me drive her new car. Hell, she even let other members of my family drive her new car. Jil is very trusting. Heehee. We'll see if she finds what I left in the tiny trunk. Heehee.

And then the flight home was dumb. I hate Detroit (there are no direct flights from Boston to Dayton). Have I mentioned that? I don't think so. Detroit sucks. I almost always get stuck there because of Northwest Airlines. I had been through there several times recently with no trouble, so I knew last night was going to be good.

First off, my plane out of Dayton left late, so we got into Detroit late. And of couse, the gate where we land is 80 miles from the gate where I need to go. I had to run past 78 gates (no kidding there) to get to my flight on time. And when I show up at the gate sweaty and panting, I find out it's been delayed for over two hours. The new schedule had us leaving at the exact time I was supposed to be getting into Boston. Wonderful. My favorite part was not only the running, but also the part where all the TV screens along the way showed my flight out of Detroit as leaving on time.

By the time I get into Boston, grab my luggage, take the subway, and get back into my apartment, it's midnight. Ah, Detroit.

Oh, here's something that's never happened to me while on a plane before. If you've ever flown into Boston before, you've noticed that you fly almost right over the big downtown area, then out over the bay, and then you turn around and flight back toward the airport and land almost on the water. So it's already a somewhat nerve-wracking feeling when the landing gears are 3 feet from the water until the landing strip suddenly appears and the plane touches down immediately. Last night we were about to touch down on the runway when suddenly the engines revved up and we took off again.

It was a bit freaky, we didn't know what was happening for a second. Then the pilot came on and said we'd gotten stuck in some of the turbulent wind from the plane that landed right before us, so he decided right then to take another turn around the city to come in for another landing. I normally don't mind flying at all, but that scared me just a bit.

And now it's nice to be home.

Last night was my wife's (Amy) Ordination Interview. She's currently on the road to be ordained as a minister in the United Church of Christ, Congregationalist. Anywho, the ordination interview is the last big taco before one can officially start looking for a job as a pastor. Amy finished up her Masters of Divinity in June, wrote her final ordination paper, went through the final approval last night, and they gave her the thumbs up to go look for a job.

This is huge. She's been working for this for years, now. Yes, she's only 26 -- but she's known that she wants to be a pastor since she was very young. And it's not an easy overnight process. It's amazing to see how many people have helped her along the way in this process so far. She's had to have all these letters of recommendation, she worked as a student minister for a year, and she had to bring people to all of these various meetings - last night included - to speak on her behalf.

She thinks some 100 people have helped her with the process so far, but I would wager to say it was even more than that! Some have obviously helped more than others, but so many people are involved in moving her through all the steps it takes to get that "Rev." in front of your name and a congregation to say yes, we want you to be our pastor. Now she can't officially have that "Rev." yet, she has to find a church first -- an ordainable position.

I'm so freakin' proud of her. Last night was the first one of these major meetings I got to attend. It wouldn't have made sense for me to go to the others, but since last night was the big taco, she asked permission to have me there. The committee was fine with that, just as long as I was there to listen and watch. I'm not allowed to speak on Amy's behalf. Well, I could, but that would be strange, you know?

So, this Committee on Ministry is the group of folks that Amy has these big meetings with. There are about 20 of them, and everyone sits in a huge circle. I guess it's similar to defending one's thesis, as Amy was questioned about her final ordination paper. The committee isn't there to tear someone apart, but rather make sure they have their beliefs well-grounded and that they're articulate enough to handle the tough questions. And they asked some tough questions last night. Tough to me, anyway.

I know Amy very well, obviously, but it was still amazing to watch her answer these huge theological questions before this big group of smart, important ministry folks. They all had such nice things to say about her as well, saying that she had grown so much and that she's a dynamic young person who will be an excellent pastor. It was really nice to see all the smiling and nodding, and to hear all those kind words.

Did I mention that I'm really proud? She just leaves me in awe when she talks about religion, especially handling the committee last night. I'm really impressed. She rocks.

And now starts the job hunt. Who knows where that will take us? I'll be ready as the pastor's wife, ready to start up sewing circles and make brownies and wear frumpy pastel dresses and big hats. Sweet.

Stupid trees

I will again voice how much I hate not having a garage and therefore having to park on the street. If it's not some idiot backing their car into mine, it's some stupid tree sneezing its nasty tree snot sap ALL OVER it.

I spent all day Saturday and Sunday scrubbing the hood of my car with every type of sap remover/wax/horrible chemical I could get my hands on. And I can get most of the sap off, but now there are spots where the sap was. My dad said to try polishing compound. That of course was the one polishing wax remover thingy I had not bought off the AutoZone car care shelf.

The guy at the dealership said I could even use gasoline or kerosene to get the stuff off the car. That is true. Dad still laughed when I told him. "Yeah, it works, but if you use that measure you'll not want to smoke around the car." It's true, I imagine charred me might be harder to get off the hood than tree sap.

I used my friend Allan for his driveway on Saturday so I could wash the car. He saw me cursing the sap and said, "Wow, you actually really care about your car, don't you?" I do. I admit it. It's something else that was passed down from my dad: Car obsession. Yeah, sure, it's a 95 Saturn SC2, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't treat it like a human and baby it. I recently got the Chilton repair manual out of the library for that year and model of Saturn just so I could learn more about it's insides.

I know every sound it makes, how it handles, and where every scratch is. The scratches kill me. I don't understand why some people find it necessary to key cars. I lived in a rougher neighborhood recently and came out one morning to find a lovely scratch right on my driver's side door. And it wasn't some little nick in the paint - this was one of those "Let's take a stroll down the car door and then go WHHHHEEEEEEEE with the key at the end" scratches.

When I stopped by the Saturn dealership Saturday to ask their advice on the sap (and they had great advice -- I have never had a problem with them, they're always so helpful and friendly), the guy who was chatting with us noticed the scratches on my door. He goes, "Oh, I can help you get those out too." He brought out this other stuff, which I now know is rubbing compound (I bought some too), and really took the shock out of the scratches. You can still see them, but they're not nearly as horrible. I almost hugged him.

And I think he saw the gratitude in my eyes because we did that nod to each other. He too was a car obsessionist.

Now to just get the rest of that sap off there!

I was just perusing the Planet Out website when I came across a story about how some "family values" coalitions are trying to urge protests against gay TV. I came across this doosey of a quote from Julie Millam of the Montana Family Coalition, it's about her opinion of that new TV show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy":

"To me, that's not a reality show about gay people," Millam told the Billings Gazette. "A really good reality show for gay people would be five gay men dying of AIDS."

Wow, I went between total shock and total laughter on that one. Truly shocking. Then Julie throws this one out:

"We don't want to see (gay content) on every single TV show," she said. "I'm hearing from people left and right, that every time they turn on the TV it's something to do with gay people. It's not reality."

Yeah, 'cause you know, we gay folks only exist in some parallel realm, we're not actually all over the planet, or anything freaky like that.

Agh.

9/11

Well, it's a day to remember and to think. I'm a regular reader of Fark, and I thought I would share something. Today on their website they posted the forum from September 11, 2001. It's pretty amazing being able to follow what people were saying and how they were reacting minute by minute on that day. So if you get a chance, read it. It's long and some parts are hard to get through, but at least read a section or two of it.

And here's my obligatory "Where were you when...?" story.

I was at home. At that point in my life, I was a freelance reporter for the news website Disaster News Network. That sounds like a morbid site, but it's not. They cover faith-based response to disasters (from hurricanes to school shootings, etc...).

At 9am I get a call from my mom. I had just gotten up and was eating breakfast, I hadn't turned the TV or radio or anything on yet. Mom says, "Can you believe what's happening?"

I, of course, was confused. "What are you talking about?"

She told me to turn on the TV. Two seconds later I get a beep from my call-waiting, and it's my editor. She says, "We've got some work to do, start writing."

Then I watched the second plane fly into the tower.

So I spent the whole day online, on the phone, with the TV on. I spent most of the next month like that -- just writing away.

Then in October, the website sent me to NYC to do some onsite coverage. I got to see Ground Zero, and talk to and meet some amazing people, hear some stories I still find hard to believe, and so much more.

I went back again in January of '02 for more coverage.

And that's that.

Make sure you get some time to reflect today.

Aretha Franklin is just the coolest. So is James Brown -- except for that whole wife-beating thing. But I love music that makes you wanna get up and dance around right where you are. I often bring music like this to work, both to listen to while in transit and while at work.

And that's what brings me to another addition on my Christmas List.

Heather's Christmas List
1. Selective Vincent Price Laugh Ability
2. Random Where-I-Am Dance Routines

One time I was listening to an oldies station at work and the song "Downtown" came on. I immediately wanted to start singing it out loud and have the whole office join in. Then we would all suddenly move into a choreographed dance routine using our desks and chairs and there'd be twirling and such. And then I thought, man, wouldn't it be cool if that could just do that whenever you wanted?

You're sitting on the bus listening to Aretha Franklin's "Chain of Fools" on your Walkman, and then it's being broadcast over the bus' speakers and everyone starts swaying back in forth in time and tapping their toes.

You're enjoying a nice meal at a restaurant when James Brown's "Sex Machine" comes on. Boogie down, toss a waiter through the air, eat your riblets to the beat.

I know Drew Carey did some similar things in his show. I'd like to do it too.

There are good and bad parts to getting older. I'm not saying I'm old -- I'm saying that I'm aging, so please don't jump on me about "You're only 25! That's not old! I'm 434 and all my limbs fell off and you don't see me complaining!" I actually don't know anyone who reads this site that would say that, but let's get it out of the way.

What I'm talking about is how the body changes. I've written before about how I have some joints that sound like cement mixers when I crouch, but now I'd like to move on to my internal organs.

When I was a kid, I could eat anything. I wasn't allergic to anything. Yet during the past few years, the "List of Foods I Can't Eat Without Going Through Some Trouble" has gotten longer. Two of the most recent additions make me weep bitterly when standing in the kitchen, staring at them longingly.

Ice cream is one of the new additions. I've been trying to switch brands to see if this helps, but it's not going very well. I don't know if I'm becoming lactose intolerant or what, but I find this twist of fate a cruel one.

The other food-smack-in-the-face involves chocolate. There are now some types of chocolate I can't eat without feeling like my stomach is going to jump out, like in Aliens or something. Fortunately, this does not happen with all types of chocolate. Yet.

This is all trivial, I know. There are much worse ailments or predicaments in life that I could be going through. This is just another silly thing I have to be aware of when it comes to stocking the fridge and not feeling like death after dinner.

I hope I can live to the ripe old age of 434 and be there to see all my limbs fall off. I'll celebrate it with a bowl of ice cream and Trader Joe's chocolate chips.

The label printer at work makes me swear like a sailor. It's reminiscent of the movie "Office Space," if you've seen that. And if you have not seen that, then you must.

Anyway, the usual conversation between me the printer goes as follows:

Printer: bzzzz, whirr, *jam*
Me: Why, you stupid piece of (&$*&$! Come on!
I press the feed button.

Printer: bzzz, whirrrrrrr, bzzz, *jam*
Me: What in the f---? Godsonofastupid*(&%$&*&%!
Feed button is pressed again.

Printer: Whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr *jam*
Me: FOR THE LOVE OF *(&%*&%@@@, WHY DO YOU HATE ME?!?! **$75@#@!!
Feed button is slammed several times

Printer: Bzzz, whrrrr, nnnnnnnnn *jam*
Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Feed button is held down with the force of a steamroller

Me: TAKE IT, YOU PIECE OF *$&%^!! YEAH! TAKE IT!! (*%78@(#)$^!
Printer: Bzzzzzzzz *label prints perfectly*

Me: HA! THAT'S RIGHT, *%&#*($! I WIN!!! YOU STUPID (*%&!
My finger smears the label.

Me: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

You get the picture, I think.

You know, after listening to Michael Jackon's "Thriller" just now, I think Vincent Price has one of the coolest laughs ever. I wish I could laugh like that. Not all the time, 'cause that'd be freaky if you're just laughing with friends at a movie and everyone turns around to see where the evil person is -- but to be able to laugh like that selectively, that'd be cool.

Heather's Christmas List
1. Selective Vincent Price Laugh Ability

There, that's #1 on the ol' list this year. Something tells me the list is going to get more interesting as the months go by.

Weekends go too quickly

Ain't that the truth? Here I was all smiley and happy on my birthday last Friday and then WHAM - it's Tuesday morning.

No one at work knew it was my birthday on Friday. I blame that on the GM. I know he was aware of it because I had taken the previous Monday off as my BIRTHDAY DAY OFF, which my company lets us do. I told him I wanted to take that day off rather then my actual birthday off on Friday and he said okay. I even saw my birthday written down on his desk calendar. But nope, not a word. Oh well.

Friday night was a blast. I got about 14 of my buds together and we all went out for dinner and drinks. My friend Brad the pastry chef made me this amazing chocolate cake. I know the manager at the restaurant we went to and he bought me a drink. It was just a fantastic time. My friend Courtney got me this hilarious book from 1968 called "How to Be A Minister's Wife...And Love it!" It is hysterical, and now I have some insight on what being a pastor's wife will be like...if it was 1968 and I was married to a guy. Now, where's my knitting....?

Then Amy and I woke up slightly hung-over Saturday morning. But who cares, we were off to Portland, Maine. Portland is a really pretty town, but I have to say I was expecting a bit more out of the downtown "Old Port" area everyone was telling me about.

There were some neat stores and this really amazing huge Coast Guard sailing ship, but that was about it. We even rode this little Maine narrow-gauge railroad around the town for a history tour. That was cool.

Sunday was very cool because I saw my first moose ever. I have friends who live up in Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire and they saw that they're always seeing moose in their yards, but of course this never happens when I come visit. So Amy and I did the next best thing by going to the Maine Wildlife Park, which is like a zoo but without all the exotic animals. This park takes care of injured animals and those that were raised by humans and now can't live in the wild. They have all kinds of great animals there that you do see around your homes, but you've maybe never been all that close to them. There were foxes and porcupines and a mink and black bears and deer and skunks -- and then there was the moose.

I knew moose were large, but man, this is a creature I would not want to run into on a nice hike in the woods. The female was the one that was closest to the fence and she was really neat to watch. Unforunately the huge bull moose was way in the back of the pen sitting down, so I didn't get to see him very well. But even from that far away, you could still tell that he was HUGE. And the antlers, sheesh! So now moose are #2 on my list of favorite animals, right behind ducks.

Sunday was also the big one year wedding anniversary, so Amy and I had to eat that nasty piece of frozen cake that we'd kept in the freezer since the big day last year. Amy was excited and quite the enforcer about this custom. I looked at the cake, all covered in freezer burn, and wondered why just the keeping of the frozen chunk for a year wasn't good enough. But, we thawed it out and ate it. It wasn't horrible, but I just kept thinking about what my uncle told us during the wedding last year when we talked about keeping the cake for the one-year custom:

"You're going to wish you'd just eaten it all the first time around."

It's funny 'cause it's true.

Anyway, after the moose and the frozen cake, it was time for a nice anniversary dinner. We gorged ourselves on seafood at this great little restaurant south of Freeport (home of 50 kajillion outlet stores, with 49 kajillion of them being various LL Bean outlets) called the Muddy Rudder. It had a great view of this neat wetlands with birds and boats and things.

Monday morning had us headed out to the local lighthouses in the area, which were beautiful. If you ever get a chance to visit Maine, you should go. People are friendly and laid back, and they nice New England accents.

Also on Monday we watched the local minor league baseball team, the Portland Sea Dogs, beat up on another team. We even got there early enough to take part in the free give-away, which was a Johnny Damon bobblehead doll. It's awesome. Johnny Damon is a Red Sox outfielder, in case you didn't know. His hair is getting too long, and while he is cute and a great player, I think he looks like a mon-chi-chi. Did you ever have one of those dolls while growing up? They look a little like monkeys? You make your own call.

Overall, the weekend getaway was nice. And once again, it's back to work.