Welcome! Spread out your towel and bask in the glory of our Stress Pool.
The sun is shining (sometimes - here in Pittsburgh, not as often as one might like), days are getting warmer, birds are chirping, and the students are squirming in their seats, anxious for the school year to be over. Another month yet, kiddos, and then we'll all be free! Even here at the Stress Pool, life is moving along at quite a clip, albeit uneventful, and we're all grateful for that.
It's been awhile since the last posting. Big Brother and DiDi have been having fun with the new little one - and he's a cutie. Can't wait for summer so I can see more of him - and them, of course! Morticia and The Doctor are planning a wedding for next May. Looking forward to finalizing some of those details with her this summer, too. Always exciting, right? A fairy garden theme is what she wants. It will be at the National Aviary, and will be quite wonderful, I'm sure. Ms. Business is zipping right along toward her future goals. She finished her Associates degree in Business, and is almost half-way through the Dental Hygiene program at Pitt. Moink is still recovering from the concussion he got three years ago - but there are some small improvements. Through it all, he's not lost his sense of humor, and has some really good ideas for stories. Everyone should have the opportunity to follow their dreams - or at least, try!
DH is planning for his (2nd) retirement. We've decided to go south, but not permanently. We'll get an apartment not far from the beach, and we'll come and go as we'd like. He's getting ready, but this is another story for another time.
Then, there's Mima. She's had a rough winter in Senior Prison. She'd barely get over one illness when another would strike. I thought for sure we were going to lose her a few weeks ago, and even went so far as to call Big Brother and Morticia.
I had seen her on a Sunday afternoon. Her hands were cold as ice, and she was shivering. She didn't seem like herself. Monday morning I called them. "You haven't been to see Mima for awhile. I don't think she's going to last much longer." I couldn't get it out without crying. They assured me they would visit.
I stopped to see her that Thursday night before choir practice. She looked a little better than she had on Sunday, and I told her that. She nodded, as if in agreement. "Morticia came to see me on Monday, and came back again yesterday morning."
"Oh yeah," I casually said.
"Big Brother came on Tuesday."
"Huh. That was nice."
She gave me the hairy eyeball. "What did you do, call and tell them I was dying?"
My mouth flapped open and shut. "What? I wouldn't do that! I reminded them they haven't seen you for a long time. Guess it worked." What Mima doesn't know won't hurt her. While she can't get out of bed, I still have a little fear - you know the kind, brought on by the power God infused in all mothers, and it never goes away.
But, that Sunday, the day I realized her time here on earth might soon end, she asked me to brush her hair. I went back in time to when I was little, and she would brush out my long hair after a bath. It took everything within me not to burst into tears as I lovingly tried to work out the tangles and braid her thin locks into Princess Leia side buns. Her hair isn't quite that long, but you get the idea. I did it again for her last week. I suck at hair. Hairstylists have told me that, and the braided buns sort of droop. But, it's a simple act of love I can give back to this woman who gave so much of herself to us for so long. I would have brushed it again this past Sunday, but instead watched her sleep for most of our visit. Her mind and her tongue are both still sharp as a whip, but she's fading -sleeping more, and eating less.
At one point, she looked at me and said, "He's waving to you." Her voice is low, and it's hard to hear what she's saying.
"Who's waving, mom?"
She chuckled, closed her eyes. "He's waving."
"Well, I can't see him, so I don't have to wave back."
I don't know who 'he' was, but I sure hope he's a friend - or maybe Eggbert. I would like to think he'd come and help lead her home. I kissed her, told her I'd be back one night this week, and left.
I barely made it to the car before sobbing. Sure, I know, she's 84 - but no matter how prepared you are, you're never ready. So, we continue to perform simple acts of love, acts that let the other person know your life never would have been the same without them. A lesson for all of us, I think - to do things for those we love on a daily basis, no matter how small the act.
Thanks for visiting. Come on back, I'll make sure the water is just the right temperature, and there will be plenty of ice for our beverages of choice! But, please don't ask me to do anything with your hair. Really. You have no idea.
Monday, May 6, 2019
Saturday, January 26, 2019
Telling Stories
Greetings! Stories - we love them, and we all have them, and who doesn't love retelling a story to a new audience? With five children and over twenty years of teaching in my back pocket, I've got loads, but one of my favorites actually involves DH.
Sitting at lunch with my colleagues the other day, a thread was woven that lent itself well to this particular story (which also has back story - please forgive me!) DH has always had hearing issues, but now that he's a card carrying member of Medicare, it stands to reason that the issue has gotten a little worse. One cold, dark Wednesday morning (5:30 a.m. seldom sees sunlight here), as we made the bed together, I sleepily said, "Well, another day closer to Saturday." He chuckled and agreed.
When we sat to eat dinner that night, he said, "Everyone at work got a laugh at what you said this morning."
I put down my fork. "What did I say that was so funny?"
"Another day closer to seventy!"
"While that is true, that isn't what I said. I said it's another day closer to Saturday!"
When I finished the story, one of my esteemed colleagues (who I will refer to as Mr. Science) said, "You make the bed together every day?"
I nodded. "Every day for almost thirty-five years, unless one of us is still in it, obviously."
His comment caused me to reflect a bit on that. My own parents divorced after thirty-eight years of marriage (talk about two people who never should have gotten married in the first place!) DH and I are fortunate. We've have had a lot of laughs through the years, as well as times of hardship, heartache, and tears. No, it hasn't been completely blissful, as no relationship ever is, but we've weathered through. Planning meals (back to the monthly menu - I haven't forgotten, sometime I will share that with you!), shopping, and yes, making the bed together - key word being 'together'. We enjoy many of the same things - like watching movies with subtitles, and romantic comedies, or curling up with a blanket on a cold winter evening with a good book, and sharing phrases that strike a chord that we feel the other would enjoy. Keeping open the lines of communication, or not nit-picking when the other has been truly annoying.
So, come on down to the pool - bring your favorite book, or your significant other, or just a nice warm blanket. After all, as we all know, we're all another day closer to seventy!
Sitting at lunch with my colleagues the other day, a thread was woven that lent itself well to this particular story (which also has back story - please forgive me!) DH has always had hearing issues, but now that he's a card carrying member of Medicare, it stands to reason that the issue has gotten a little worse. One cold, dark Wednesday morning (5:30 a.m. seldom sees sunlight here), as we made the bed together, I sleepily said, "Well, another day closer to Saturday." He chuckled and agreed.
When we sat to eat dinner that night, he said, "Everyone at work got a laugh at what you said this morning."
I put down my fork. "What did I say that was so funny?"
"Another day closer to seventy!"
"While that is true, that isn't what I said. I said it's another day closer to Saturday!"
When I finished the story, one of my esteemed colleagues (who I will refer to as Mr. Science) said, "You make the bed together every day?"
I nodded. "Every day for almost thirty-five years, unless one of us is still in it, obviously."
His comment caused me to reflect a bit on that. My own parents divorced after thirty-eight years of marriage (talk about two people who never should have gotten married in the first place!) DH and I are fortunate. We've have had a lot of laughs through the years, as well as times of hardship, heartache, and tears. No, it hasn't been completely blissful, as no relationship ever is, but we've weathered through. Planning meals (back to the monthly menu - I haven't forgotten, sometime I will share that with you!), shopping, and yes, making the bed together - key word being 'together'. We enjoy many of the same things - like watching movies with subtitles, and romantic comedies, or curling up with a blanket on a cold winter evening with a good book, and sharing phrases that strike a chord that we feel the other would enjoy. Keeping open the lines of communication, or not nit-picking when the other has been truly annoying.
So, come on down to the pool - bring your favorite book, or your significant other, or just a nice warm blanket. After all, as we all know, we're all another day closer to seventy!
Saturday, January 12, 2019
Zombies Have Been Sighted
Be afraid. Very afraid, for I've seen zombies hovering outside my classroom windows.
I would like to say it's because the zombie apocalypse has finally arrived (in which case, in answer to Moink's question "What would you do if there was a zombie apocalypse?" I will be the first to go), but fortunately, that isn't the case. It's really because my head is going to explode and zombies seem to sense these things.
Why is my head going to explode? Artist's Statements. I thought that in asking my fifth and sixth grade students things like, "Tell me three things you learned", "What are two things you like about your project?", and "What is one thing you would do differently?", then I would be getting them to - wait for the catch phrase - write across the curriculum. In theory, what a great idea! In practice -oy!
Let's start with "What would you do differently?" I tell them the answer "Nothing" is not acceptable. Every artist would do something differently the next time. I still get a lot of "Nothing - I like it just the way it is." Sigh.
Then there is "What two things do you like about your project?" This is always interesting, but because they get to talk about this extension of themselves, I get great answers.
"Three things I learned." For each class, I projected the sheet onto the screen and went through how to answer the questions. For each lesson, there are skills and techniques - it is art, so that's a no-brainer (at least, in my mind!) Sometimes we look at something historically or culturally relevant, so there's that. Sometimes we look at an artist or two who were famous for that style of art. So many things to choose from! I even pointed out that on this same sheet are listed the concepts, techniques, styles, and artists studied. So easy, right? Not so much.
Let's take the latest project from fifth grade - weaving. We made "Mug Rugs". A sane person would call them coasters, but let's be creative - they look like mini rugs, complete with fringe. And you can put your mug on it. Simple basket weave, which is over and under. They had to choose a particular color family - we used our color wheels to do discover what some of the different color families are, like primary and secondary. We talked about complimentary colors, and how to find them on the color wheel. We talked about monochromatic color schemes.We talked about using tints - like pink for red. I listed all of these on the white board and asked them to choose which one they thought they'd like to use. Come up with a pattern, and established that patterns repeat. Let's look at possible patterns! Write it down so you remember. Well.
Weaving with kids can be fun. For many, this is the only time they'll do something like this, but it's hard to get them to understand this is not crocheting or knitting. As a teacher, I quickly find out who has learned to tie their shoes and who has not.(Yes, fifth graders still don't know how to tie their shoes!) I teach them to start the weaving with an "anchor" row that will hold things together. (If you don't anchor the boat, it will sail away!) Getting them to start from the inside of the cardboard loom rather than from the edge is hard, so I demonstrate and make the analogy that "The loom is our house. Everyone is leaving the house - mom, dad, grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters and even the cat...except the dog." At this point, I have woven through from somewhere in the center of the loom to the edge, with half a row and only the tail end of the yarn left in the center, indicating this is the dog. Everyone giggles and they seem to get this visual. Then, we commence. Some take to it like a fish out of water, some take six classes or so before it finally clicks. It's a fine motor skill. It's amazing how many kids just don't get the chance to develop those skills anymore.
Taking it off the loom when finished is another trick. You have to cut the string and tie double knots. "I don't know how to tie double knots." There is then the establishing if the child is right handed or left handed, and then I'm teaching them how to tie a knot. (Please keep in mind that I teach four hundred plus fifth graders a year!)
You might be thinking that we've already gotten to the point of my head exploding - not so! It doesn't happen until I'm reading what they've learned. Remember, it's supposed to be a reflection of what we learned in class, not personal epiphanies. There were many concepts, skills and techniques taught and learned, at least one hopes.
"Art is fun." Nice, but what did you learn?
"There are lots of tools in weaving." Awesome. What are they?
"I learned to weave." Okay...what about it?
"I learned what a pattern is." I think you should have already known that.
"I learned about color families." What did you learn about color families?
"I learned to tie knots." Yes - something specific! And useful!
"I learned to leave the dog at home."
This is about where the ticking time bomb that lives inside my brain began to speed up. Yes, I laughed - who wouldn't? But oh, I looked out the window and saw them gathering. Those zombies know a meal is about to be served, and they don't care if they have to scoop it off the walls.
A new semester is fast approaching, and a whole new bunch of fifth and sixth graders will cross the threshold of the art room. I think there has to be a better way to find out what they've learned, and leave writing across the curriculum to another humanities teacher, one who might be younger, whose brain hasn't yet begun to leak out of his or her cranium.
I won't make you weave when you come to visit at the pool, or write about your experiences, but I might ask you to join me in a favorite beverage and just share those mind-blowing experiences of our lives. Come back soon before the zombie invasion actually occurs!
I would like to say it's because the zombie apocalypse has finally arrived (in which case, in answer to Moink's question "What would you do if there was a zombie apocalypse?" I will be the first to go), but fortunately, that isn't the case. It's really because my head is going to explode and zombies seem to sense these things.
Why is my head going to explode? Artist's Statements. I thought that in asking my fifth and sixth grade students things like, "Tell me three things you learned", "What are two things you like about your project?", and "What is one thing you would do differently?", then I would be getting them to - wait for the catch phrase - write across the curriculum. In theory, what a great idea! In practice -oy!
Let's start with "What would you do differently?" I tell them the answer "Nothing" is not acceptable. Every artist would do something differently the next time. I still get a lot of "Nothing - I like it just the way it is." Sigh.
Then there is "What two things do you like about your project?" This is always interesting, but because they get to talk about this extension of themselves, I get great answers.
"Three things I learned." For each class, I projected the sheet onto the screen and went through how to answer the questions. For each lesson, there are skills and techniques - it is art, so that's a no-brainer (at least, in my mind!) Sometimes we look at something historically or culturally relevant, so there's that. Sometimes we look at an artist or two who were famous for that style of art. So many things to choose from! I even pointed out that on this same sheet are listed the concepts, techniques, styles, and artists studied. So easy, right? Not so much.
Let's take the latest project from fifth grade - weaving. We made "Mug Rugs". A sane person would call them coasters, but let's be creative - they look like mini rugs, complete with fringe. And you can put your mug on it. Simple basket weave, which is over and under. They had to choose a particular color family - we used our color wheels to do discover what some of the different color families are, like primary and secondary. We talked about complimentary colors, and how to find them on the color wheel. We talked about monochromatic color schemes.We talked about using tints - like pink for red. I listed all of these on the white board and asked them to choose which one they thought they'd like to use. Come up with a pattern, and established that patterns repeat. Let's look at possible patterns! Write it down so you remember. Well.
Weaving with kids can be fun. For many, this is the only time they'll do something like this, but it's hard to get them to understand this is not crocheting or knitting. As a teacher, I quickly find out who has learned to tie their shoes and who has not.(Yes, fifth graders still don't know how to tie their shoes!) I teach them to start the weaving with an "anchor" row that will hold things together. (If you don't anchor the boat, it will sail away!) Getting them to start from the inside of the cardboard loom rather than from the edge is hard, so I demonstrate and make the analogy that "The loom is our house. Everyone is leaving the house - mom, dad, grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters and even the cat...except the dog." At this point, I have woven through from somewhere in the center of the loom to the edge, with half a row and only the tail end of the yarn left in the center, indicating this is the dog. Everyone giggles and they seem to get this visual. Then, we commence. Some take to it like a fish out of water, some take six classes or so before it finally clicks. It's a fine motor skill. It's amazing how many kids just don't get the chance to develop those skills anymore.
Taking it off the loom when finished is another trick. You have to cut the string and tie double knots. "I don't know how to tie double knots." There is then the establishing if the child is right handed or left handed, and then I'm teaching them how to tie a knot. (Please keep in mind that I teach four hundred plus fifth graders a year!)
You might be thinking that we've already gotten to the point of my head exploding - not so! It doesn't happen until I'm reading what they've learned. Remember, it's supposed to be a reflection of what we learned in class, not personal epiphanies. There were many concepts, skills and techniques taught and learned, at least one hopes.
"Art is fun." Nice, but what did you learn?
"There are lots of tools in weaving." Awesome. What are they?
"I learned to weave." Okay...what about it?
"I learned what a pattern is." I think you should have already known that.
"I learned about color families." What did you learn about color families?
"I learned to tie knots." Yes - something specific! And useful!
"I learned to leave the dog at home."
This is about where the ticking time bomb that lives inside my brain began to speed up. Yes, I laughed - who wouldn't? But oh, I looked out the window and saw them gathering. Those zombies know a meal is about to be served, and they don't care if they have to scoop it off the walls.
A new semester is fast approaching, and a whole new bunch of fifth and sixth graders will cross the threshold of the art room. I think there has to be a better way to find out what they've learned, and leave writing across the curriculum to another humanities teacher, one who might be younger, whose brain hasn't yet begun to leak out of his or her cranium.
I won't make you weave when you come to visit at the pool, or write about your experiences, but I might ask you to join me in a favorite beverage and just share those mind-blowing experiences of our lives. Come back soon before the zombie invasion actually occurs!
Monday, December 17, 2018
Holiday Lights at the Pool
Greetings!
First, I bring glad tidings of great joy - Big Brother and Didi recently gave birth to a healthy baby boy! Little Pumpkin weighed in at 8 pounds, 8 ounces, and measured 21 and a half inches. We are tickled pink to be grandparents, and look forward to watching him grow. Congratulations to the happy little family!
Well, Christmas is upon us, and in true Stress Pool style, we've decorated in the usual fashion. DH brought the tree up from the garage/attic (we don't have an attic, and since the cars are too tall for the garage - well, there you go!), which sat in the living room for a week and a few days. Then, last week we put the tree together. It's a nice, new one from Balsam Hill - we got it on sale this past summer at 50% off. Pre-lit, it made a huge difference in the amount of time setting it up (and a lot less cursing!) than in years past! So, if you drove past the house, you'd see it in the window. Not decorated, but at least it was put together! Then, one holly topiary made it up. The other goes in the entry way - along with a garland with the Christmas Mice. (They are gold in color, and illustrate "The Night Before Christmas". Then, a few other things made their way in. We still haven't found the tree skirt or stockings, but there is time. But, with only a week before Christmas, I decided it was time to at least get ornaments on the tree.
After I slept through the evening news and most of Jeopardy!, I rolled up my sleeves and dug into the box of ornaments we brought up yesterday. We decided on the Santas. Yes, there are the 'meaningful' ornaments - the ones with the kids names, and some they made, and some that were given as gifts, and they're wonderful memories. But Christmas is still hard, and it can be a bit much at times. Somewhere along the line I lost the last 10 years. It isn't that I don't like Christmas, I do - but there is still a gaping hole in my heart that will probably never fill in. It is mostly covered over with a filmy layer of silk, and I've learned to put a smile on my face - even the occasional laugh. But Christmas music often makes me cry...enough maudlin. Down to business. (Wipe the eyes, continue with life.)
The box is marked 'Santas' in DH's handwriting. At one point I must have added 'Angels', 'Eskimos', 'Penguins', and 'Wendel August Forge' ornaments. The new tree is a little smaller than the old one, so I had to be choosy. There were the ceramic angels DH made in ceramics class - one dozen, cream and gold. I always chuckle getting them out of the box, because they're hollow at the bottom, and sometimes the packing peanuts get stuck inside. Yeah, I know it's a bit juvenile, but you gotta get the laughs where you can! There is a clear, acrylic angel with Eggbert's name, given to us by the funeral home the year he died. There is a Befana (which DH said was hard to come by - they were popular that year!) Santa Lucia, and many other gift-givers from around the world, including a few of Saint Nicholas. There is a Miss Piggy angel given to me by my Aunt Peg somewhere around 1980, and an angel my friend, Sister Donna, brought from Peru. Angels made from shells. There is even a buck-naked elf made out of old nylon stockings, given to me by a student my first year of teaching (back in the old days, when we had to wash the floors and stoke the fire in the stove!) Eskimos are the Hallmark 'Frosty Friends' series - we missed a few years, but there are still a lot of them, as well as the penguins, which I believe were mostly bought for Moink. I don't remember where all the Santas came from, part of the lost years, but we've picked some up on vacations to Virginia, and possibly when we went to Tennessee. All in all, a lot of nice collection of ornaments.
My favorite one, though, is the kneeling Santa. It's small, and shows Santa kneeling before the Christ child in the manger, hat off, humbled, for without Jesus, there would be no Santa, and that is a plain and simple fact. I seem to recall that Big Brother and Didi aren't going to 'do the Santa thing' with their kids. I can't wait until Little Pumpkin is older, because I hope his parents don't mind him becoming a Santa for others - something I so enjoy doing! Helping others in need is such a necessary thing, and we have so much, we are so fortunate - we need to share that with others.
So, I sit and sip a bit of pumpkin spice Bailey's, look at the lights on the tree, and remember Christmases past. Times when children decorated as high as they could reach, clamoring over who would put up which ornament. Remembering times when at last, the house was quiet, and DH and I could share a moment in the silence, admiring the gleaming lights in the comfort of each other's company. I wonder what your favorite ornament is, and why it holds a special meaning in your heart?
I'd like to take this opportunity to wish all of you and yours a Happy Christmas. My wish is for you to enjoy the magic of this joyous season. Don't stress (easy for me to say, right?!) because there's no reason to - if it gets done, it gets done. If the tree was still in the box in the middle of the living room, I might have been tempted to string lights around it and call it a day! Just enjoy the time you have with each other - after all, time is short. Children grow up too fast. People fade from our lives, either because they move on to other things, or just plain move on.
And, please come back to visit at the pool, where the water is usually warm, and where friends are always welcome. Merry Christmas!
First, I bring glad tidings of great joy - Big Brother and Didi recently gave birth to a healthy baby boy! Little Pumpkin weighed in at 8 pounds, 8 ounces, and measured 21 and a half inches. We are tickled pink to be grandparents, and look forward to watching him grow. Congratulations to the happy little family!
Well, Christmas is upon us, and in true Stress Pool style, we've decorated in the usual fashion. DH brought the tree up from the garage/attic (we don't have an attic, and since the cars are too tall for the garage - well, there you go!), which sat in the living room for a week and a few days. Then, last week we put the tree together. It's a nice, new one from Balsam Hill - we got it on sale this past summer at 50% off. Pre-lit, it made a huge difference in the amount of time setting it up (and a lot less cursing!) than in years past! So, if you drove past the house, you'd see it in the window. Not decorated, but at least it was put together! Then, one holly topiary made it up. The other goes in the entry way - along with a garland with the Christmas Mice. (They are gold in color, and illustrate "The Night Before Christmas". Then, a few other things made their way in. We still haven't found the tree skirt or stockings, but there is time. But, with only a week before Christmas, I decided it was time to at least get ornaments on the tree.
After I slept through the evening news and most of Jeopardy!, I rolled up my sleeves and dug into the box of ornaments we brought up yesterday. We decided on the Santas. Yes, there are the 'meaningful' ornaments - the ones with the kids names, and some they made, and some that were given as gifts, and they're wonderful memories. But Christmas is still hard, and it can be a bit much at times. Somewhere along the line I lost the last 10 years. It isn't that I don't like Christmas, I do - but there is still a gaping hole in my heart that will probably never fill in. It is mostly covered over with a filmy layer of silk, and I've learned to put a smile on my face - even the occasional laugh. But Christmas music often makes me cry...enough maudlin. Down to business. (Wipe the eyes, continue with life.)
The box is marked 'Santas' in DH's handwriting. At one point I must have added 'Angels', 'Eskimos', 'Penguins', and 'Wendel August Forge' ornaments. The new tree is a little smaller than the old one, so I had to be choosy. There were the ceramic angels DH made in ceramics class - one dozen, cream and gold. I always chuckle getting them out of the box, because they're hollow at the bottom, and sometimes the packing peanuts get stuck inside. Yeah, I know it's a bit juvenile, but you gotta get the laughs where you can! There is a clear, acrylic angel with Eggbert's name, given to us by the funeral home the year he died. There is a Befana (which DH said was hard to come by - they were popular that year!) Santa Lucia, and many other gift-givers from around the world, including a few of Saint Nicholas. There is a Miss Piggy angel given to me by my Aunt Peg somewhere around 1980, and an angel my friend, Sister Donna, brought from Peru. Angels made from shells. There is even a buck-naked elf made out of old nylon stockings, given to me by a student my first year of teaching (back in the old days, when we had to wash the floors and stoke the fire in the stove!) Eskimos are the Hallmark 'Frosty Friends' series - we missed a few years, but there are still a lot of them, as well as the penguins, which I believe were mostly bought for Moink. I don't remember where all the Santas came from, part of the lost years, but we've picked some up on vacations to Virginia, and possibly when we went to Tennessee. All in all, a lot of nice collection of ornaments.
My favorite one, though, is the kneeling Santa. It's small, and shows Santa kneeling before the Christ child in the manger, hat off, humbled, for without Jesus, there would be no Santa, and that is a plain and simple fact. I seem to recall that Big Brother and Didi aren't going to 'do the Santa thing' with their kids. I can't wait until Little Pumpkin is older, because I hope his parents don't mind him becoming a Santa for others - something I so enjoy doing! Helping others in need is such a necessary thing, and we have so much, we are so fortunate - we need to share that with others.
So, I sit and sip a bit of pumpkin spice Bailey's, look at the lights on the tree, and remember Christmases past. Times when children decorated as high as they could reach, clamoring over who would put up which ornament. Remembering times when at last, the house was quiet, and DH and I could share a moment in the silence, admiring the gleaming lights in the comfort of each other's company. I wonder what your favorite ornament is, and why it holds a special meaning in your heart?
I'd like to take this opportunity to wish all of you and yours a Happy Christmas. My wish is for you to enjoy the magic of this joyous season. Don't stress (easy for me to say, right?!) because there's no reason to - if it gets done, it gets done. If the tree was still in the box in the middle of the living room, I might have been tempted to string lights around it and call it a day! Just enjoy the time you have with each other - after all, time is short. Children grow up too fast. People fade from our lives, either because they move on to other things, or just plain move on.
And, please come back to visit at the pool, where the water is usually warm, and where friends are always welcome. Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 10, 2018
A Mima Moment
Welcome to the Stress Pool, where everyday is sunny and the water temperature is just right!
I haven't mentioned Mima in quite awhile, mostly because she's in Senior Prison, and truthfully, not much happens there. Well, that's not really true. Apparently, a lot goes on there, and I, for one, am glad to miss most of it! Whenever anyone asks me how she's doing, my standard answer is, "She's full of piss and vinegar."
Mima had a knee replaced two years ago - almost three now. It went badly. She was inhabited by a deep wound infection that ate - yes, ate - the plastic, the tissue, the bone, and the titanium. We were fortunate that she lived. After months of IV drugs and numerous visits to doctors, all was well enough that she could have had it done again, or leave it alone. The orthopedist asked what she'd like to do. She looked at me. I looked at him. "If she was your grandmother, what would you suggest?"
Dr. Eye Candy (yeah, he's all that) patted her hand and said, "If you were my nana, I would tell you to leave it alone." He felt that it was just opening it all to another infection, and secretly, I agreed. So, we went back to Senior Prison, and Mima went to physical therapy.
But, when you're in your early eighties, sometimes you want sympathy more than anything else. "You'll be so proud of me. I stood up for two minutes today."
"That's great, mom, but you've got to work a little harder than that."
Eventually, insurance took her off the physical therapy. If you're not making progress, you don't get to keep going.
"But, I was standing."
"Yes, but you weren't walking."
"I can't. I don't have the strength. How can they expect me to do that if they don't help me get my strength up?"
"Sigh."
She is now eighty-four, and though she cannot walk (or stand), she wields power from that bed. Aides fear her. Nurses question their career paths. Directors steer clear. And, Dietary - well, let's keep that for another day! She never leaves the room, doesn't let them keep the door open, yet she knows pretty much everything that goes on. She can tell me the names of residents who scooch by on their wheel chairs. and the scrapes they get into. She can tell me about the family who visits their person down the hall. It's amazing the information she's able to get. Seriously, if the FBI ever wanted to investigate the place, she's their best bet for a plant.
As I left one evening, I mentioned to the nurse on duty that I heard of the passing of one of the residents, a lovely woman who had once been mom's room mate. "Oh, yeah, she died the other night." Then, she stopped. "Wait, how did you know?"
"Mom told me."
This sweet little woman slapped her hand to her head. "How does she know all this? She never leaves that room, but she knows everything that goes on here!"
Of course, I take my share of abuse. Every Sunday I make my way there, and the visit goes pretty much the same way each time. "Did you bring me clean pajamas?"
"Yes. I just put them in your drawer."
"Did you bring me coffee creamer? And biscuits?"
"Yes. I'm marking dates on them now." I tear off paper tape from the roll and write her name and dates on everything, then go in search of someone to put them in the refrigerator.
Back in the room. "Did you water my plants?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see you."
"I watered the plants."
Once all the business is taken care of, we can sit and talk. I usually stay a couple hours, tell her crazy things that happen at school or at home. She offers opinions, and then tells me things the aides tell her. "Don't repeat those things."
"Why?"
I frown at her. "That's gossip. Don't repeat stuff. Behave yourself."
"Hmmph."
Yup. That's my mom. It's got to be hard on her, and it's no wonder she's not accepted her station with grace. Or, maybe she has, but it just doesn't seem that way.
Whenever I get there, she's either playing on her tablet (Christmas gift last year), or listening to books on tape. Sometimes she crochets granny square afghans, but with macular degeneration, that's getting harder for her to do, too. It takes a great amount of courage to accept what she's endured. She's suffered her fair amount of hardships. She misses seeing the family during events, and in general. She often laments the kids don't come around, and I have to remind her that I don't see the older ones much, either, but I see them more than she does. In the end, it's difficult watching someone you love deteriorate and you can't do anything about it. DH's mom had Altzheimer's, but her body was fine. It seems you either get to keep one or the other. I don't know which I'd rather - some days it already feels as if my mind has gone. I swear I meet new people every day, starting with the nice people who walk around my house!
So, in this season of Advent, as we approach the bright days of Christmas, maybe take a few minutes and visit someone who might be lonely, or do something nice for an elder in your life. We all have our own little Stress Pools, even if they're only as big as wading pools. And, if you'd like, weigh in with how good it felt to brighten someone's day.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pajamas to fold. Thanks for dipping your toe in the Pool, and come back soon - I'm trying to get better at posting!
I haven't mentioned Mima in quite awhile, mostly because she's in Senior Prison, and truthfully, not much happens there. Well, that's not really true. Apparently, a lot goes on there, and I, for one, am glad to miss most of it! Whenever anyone asks me how she's doing, my standard answer is, "She's full of piss and vinegar."
Mima had a knee replaced two years ago - almost three now. It went badly. She was inhabited by a deep wound infection that ate - yes, ate - the plastic, the tissue, the bone, and the titanium. We were fortunate that she lived. After months of IV drugs and numerous visits to doctors, all was well enough that she could have had it done again, or leave it alone. The orthopedist asked what she'd like to do. She looked at me. I looked at him. "If she was your grandmother, what would you suggest?"
Dr. Eye Candy (yeah, he's all that) patted her hand and said, "If you were my nana, I would tell you to leave it alone." He felt that it was just opening it all to another infection, and secretly, I agreed. So, we went back to Senior Prison, and Mima went to physical therapy.
But, when you're in your early eighties, sometimes you want sympathy more than anything else. "You'll be so proud of me. I stood up for two minutes today."
"That's great, mom, but you've got to work a little harder than that."
Eventually, insurance took her off the physical therapy. If you're not making progress, you don't get to keep going.
"But, I was standing."
"Yes, but you weren't walking."
"I can't. I don't have the strength. How can they expect me to do that if they don't help me get my strength up?"
"Sigh."
She is now eighty-four, and though she cannot walk (or stand), she wields power from that bed. Aides fear her. Nurses question their career paths. Directors steer clear. And, Dietary - well, let's keep that for another day! She never leaves the room, doesn't let them keep the door open, yet she knows pretty much everything that goes on. She can tell me the names of residents who scooch by on their wheel chairs. and the scrapes they get into. She can tell me about the family who visits their person down the hall. It's amazing the information she's able to get. Seriously, if the FBI ever wanted to investigate the place, she's their best bet for a plant.
As I left one evening, I mentioned to the nurse on duty that I heard of the passing of one of the residents, a lovely woman who had once been mom's room mate. "Oh, yeah, she died the other night." Then, she stopped. "Wait, how did you know?"
"Mom told me."
This sweet little woman slapped her hand to her head. "How does she know all this? She never leaves that room, but she knows everything that goes on here!"
Of course, I take my share of abuse. Every Sunday I make my way there, and the visit goes pretty much the same way each time. "Did you bring me clean pajamas?"
"Yes. I just put them in your drawer."
"Did you bring me coffee creamer? And biscuits?"
"Yes. I'm marking dates on them now." I tear off paper tape from the roll and write her name and dates on everything, then go in search of someone to put them in the refrigerator.
Back in the room. "Did you water my plants?"
"Yes."
"I didn't see you."
"I watered the plants."
Once all the business is taken care of, we can sit and talk. I usually stay a couple hours, tell her crazy things that happen at school or at home. She offers opinions, and then tells me things the aides tell her. "Don't repeat those things."
"Why?"
I frown at her. "That's gossip. Don't repeat stuff. Behave yourself."
"Hmmph."
Yup. That's my mom. It's got to be hard on her, and it's no wonder she's not accepted her station with grace. Or, maybe she has, but it just doesn't seem that way.
Whenever I get there, she's either playing on her tablet (Christmas gift last year), or listening to books on tape. Sometimes she crochets granny square afghans, but with macular degeneration, that's getting harder for her to do, too. It takes a great amount of courage to accept what she's endured. She's suffered her fair amount of hardships. She misses seeing the family during events, and in general. She often laments the kids don't come around, and I have to remind her that I don't see the older ones much, either, but I see them more than she does. In the end, it's difficult watching someone you love deteriorate and you can't do anything about it. DH's mom had Altzheimer's, but her body was fine. It seems you either get to keep one or the other. I don't know which I'd rather - some days it already feels as if my mind has gone. I swear I meet new people every day, starting with the nice people who walk around my house!
So, in this season of Advent, as we approach the bright days of Christmas, maybe take a few minutes and visit someone who might be lonely, or do something nice for an elder in your life. We all have our own little Stress Pools, even if they're only as big as wading pools. And, if you'd like, weigh in with how good it felt to brighten someone's day.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some pajamas to fold. Thanks for dipping your toe in the Pool, and come back soon - I'm trying to get better at posting!
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
A State of Mind
The home front isn't the only pool I manage. There is also the school pool, where I spend the majority of my waking hours during the year. And, the motto for this school year is, "I shall not be miserable today."
That sounds utterly ridiculous, awful - and maybe even a little negative. It isn't meant to be, in fact, it's quite the opposite. The past couple of years have been hard, but I realize it was I who made it that way. Approximately 175 children cross my path on a daily basis, all who ask, "What do I do next?", "What are we doing? I was in the Bahamas." Or, my favorite, "Like this?" It can drive one absolutely bonkers.
I repeat myself, at minimum, one hundred times. I repeat myself, at minimum...wait, I think I already said that! I write the directions on the board, and include them in the rubrics they put into their portfolio envelopes, just to conveniently lose them. I would no sooner get a stack of artwork assessed when another stack grew behind my back as I passed back the first stack. I sort of began feeling like a lab rat in an endless maze. By the time the third show came around where I was to send artwork to the High School art teacher, I couldn't keep track of name tags, artwork, supplies...total nightmare. I would come home exhausted, cranky, and downright miserable.
Not this year.
There are still several years to go before retirement can occur, and I woke up one morning this past summer determined to change my attitude. It was necessary for survival. "I shall not be miserable today."
Even when someone cuts through an entire ball of yarn trying to cut one piece.
Even when they don't follow the directions, no matter how many times I've explained it.
Even when I have to cover someone else's class because of the substitute shortage. (My apologies to colleagues who teach math - you don't even want me to talk to them about math! I don't math - I art.)
Even when someone 'borrows' my supplies and doesn't return them - especially the ones I've supplied myself!
Even when it's cold, and I'm tired, and want nothing more to be in my slippers and sweats.
It's all a state of mind. One of my dear colleagues also has a motto this year. It's " F@%$# it."
Also a state of mind, and not necessarily negative. Survival, people, it's all about survival.
"He who retires with sanity intact, wins."
And now, it's December. Christmas music rings in the air, and they're still eating Halloween candy - or have started on the candy canes. There is nothing like talking to a room full of nearly teens in December and May - it equals about the same result. Blank stares, or they look at me as if I've got three heads with tentacles sprouting from my shoulders. You would think that would garner interest - nope.
"I shall not be miserable today."
In this season of Advent, may we all find that inner peace that takes away the miserableness that is sometimes thrown in our way, and turn it into something joyous.
Thanks for stopping by the Stress Pool, where things are always interesting!
That sounds utterly ridiculous, awful - and maybe even a little negative. It isn't meant to be, in fact, it's quite the opposite. The past couple of years have been hard, but I realize it was I who made it that way. Approximately 175 children cross my path on a daily basis, all who ask, "What do I do next?", "What are we doing? I was in the Bahamas." Or, my favorite, "Like this?" It can drive one absolutely bonkers.
I repeat myself, at minimum, one hundred times. I repeat myself, at minimum...wait, I think I already said that! I write the directions on the board, and include them in the rubrics they put into their portfolio envelopes, just to conveniently lose them. I would no sooner get a stack of artwork assessed when another stack grew behind my back as I passed back the first stack. I sort of began feeling like a lab rat in an endless maze. By the time the third show came around where I was to send artwork to the High School art teacher, I couldn't keep track of name tags, artwork, supplies...total nightmare. I would come home exhausted, cranky, and downright miserable.
Not this year.
There are still several years to go before retirement can occur, and I woke up one morning this past summer determined to change my attitude. It was necessary for survival. "I shall not be miserable today."
Even when someone cuts through an entire ball of yarn trying to cut one piece.
Even when they don't follow the directions, no matter how many times I've explained it.
Even when I have to cover someone else's class because of the substitute shortage. (My apologies to colleagues who teach math - you don't even want me to talk to them about math! I don't math - I art.)
Even when someone 'borrows' my supplies and doesn't return them - especially the ones I've supplied myself!
Even when it's cold, and I'm tired, and want nothing more to be in my slippers and sweats.
It's all a state of mind. One of my dear colleagues also has a motto this year. It's " F@%$# it."
Also a state of mind, and not necessarily negative. Survival, people, it's all about survival.
"He who retires with sanity intact, wins."
And now, it's December. Christmas music rings in the air, and they're still eating Halloween candy - or have started on the candy canes. There is nothing like talking to a room full of nearly teens in December and May - it equals about the same result. Blank stares, or they look at me as if I've got three heads with tentacles sprouting from my shoulders. You would think that would garner interest - nope.
"I shall not be miserable today."
In this season of Advent, may we all find that inner peace that takes away the miserableness that is sometimes thrown in our way, and turn it into something joyous.
Thanks for stopping by the Stress Pool, where things are always interesting!
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Taking Stock of the Concession Stand at the Pool
Greetings, friends!
It's a rainy day at the pool - literally, it's raining outside. Perfect time to come inside and assess the day-to-day workings, starting with the concession stand, AKA the Kitchen.
For those who know me well, they will tell you I don't do too badly as the chief cook and bottle washer, probably from all the practice through the years! DH doesn't complain much, except the poor man has been subjected to all sorts of experimental meals this summer. We have a LOAD of recipes that have been collected through the last 34 years, many of which have lovely pictures, but have never been taste-tested in our kitchen. Some of the experiments were real hits; some not so much, and those were appropriately filed in the waste bin. However, there is still a stack to go through. (Picture me hunched over, wringing my hands, laughing maniacally)
Turning the kitchen into an evil doctor's laboratory aside, we have dinners under control. I know I've mentioned in the past that we make a Monthly Menu for dinner. My friend Donna thinks I should publish that and an accompanying shopping list. Maybe someday. The trick is to look at the season (mostly winter or summer), and adjust accordingly. It's hard to make a dish using butternut squash if it isn't in season! Salads are more fun in the summer, while soup makes it onto the menu at least once a week in the winter. Then, add in chicken one night, beef another, and the occasional pork dish. Vegetarian? Sorry - I raised a bunch of carnivores. If I omitted meat, the word mutiny comes to mind.
My downfall is lunch and, yes, breakfast.
Breakfast is actually my favorite meal - I could eat eggs, sausage, and bacon every day, (throw some fresh fruit in there during the summer), but health issues tell me I shouldn't do that on a daily basis. So does the scale. (My least favorite device in the house).
Recently, my aforementioned friend Donna and I went out for a bite, and we covered a wide gamut of topics, one being meals and the need to eat healthier. (Yes, all the world's problems have now been solved. You're welcome.) That's when she mentioned something that made me go, "huh." She LOVES oatmeal. I do not. In fact, cereal is my least favorite food, but I understand the importance of it in one's diet. The only trouble is that I require a fair amount of sugar to make it remotely palatable, enough so that it would make Doctor Barry frown very hard. Then, Donna told me about Refrigerator Oatmeal.
"What's that?" you ask? Well, I looked it up this morning and found a few recipes for experimentation. (again, maniacal laughter rings through the house) I mean, who couldn't resist something called 'Blueberry Cheesecake', or 'Apple, Inc.', and don't forget 'Chocolate Banana Bonkers' and 'Peachy Blinder'. Instead of sugar, use fruit, and yogurt, and maybe a teaspoon of maple syrup! Brilliant! And, the best part? You make it the night before in a mason jar, stick it in the fridge, and voila! You have breakfast! You can take it on the go - maybe heat it in the microwave when you get to work on days you're running a little late. In the meantime, you've got a healthy breakfast that might not taste so bad. Here's the link I found for recipe ideas. https://hurrythefoodup.com/how-to-make-overnight-oats-in-a-jar
Some of the recipes suggested chia seeds - no. Sorry, but there are just some things I can't fathom, like something one would rub on a terracotta figure, add water, and watch grass grow on Shreck's head. Yeah....no. I ordered a few mason jars from our favorite online ordering spot - everything from A to Z, you know. (Sorry, DH, but I didn't want to hog up all the jars we already own!). You can make enough of these oatmeal concoctions to last a few days, so I can still have eggs once in a while. Just not every day. I can live with that.
Lunches - well, we're working on that, too. DH bought a bunch of containers so that we can make up meals over the weekend, pack them in these containers, and lunches are healthy and ready to go. Sounds like a lot of work, but if we're doing this together, then no big deal, right? It might at least be diverting for awhile!
So, if you're in the neighborhood, stop by the Pool - and please, don't be put off by the woman with crazy hair, covered in flour, running around the kitchen and laughing like she's lost her last marble. I'll always hold onto a few for my friends! Maybe there will even be a piece of pie and a hot cup of coffee to share.
It's a rainy day at the pool - literally, it's raining outside. Perfect time to come inside and assess the day-to-day workings, starting with the concession stand, AKA the Kitchen.
For those who know me well, they will tell you I don't do too badly as the chief cook and bottle washer, probably from all the practice through the years! DH doesn't complain much, except the poor man has been subjected to all sorts of experimental meals this summer. We have a LOAD of recipes that have been collected through the last 34 years, many of which have lovely pictures, but have never been taste-tested in our kitchen. Some of the experiments were real hits; some not so much, and those were appropriately filed in the waste bin. However, there is still a stack to go through. (Picture me hunched over, wringing my hands, laughing maniacally)
Turning the kitchen into an evil doctor's laboratory aside, we have dinners under control. I know I've mentioned in the past that we make a Monthly Menu for dinner. My friend Donna thinks I should publish that and an accompanying shopping list. Maybe someday. The trick is to look at the season (mostly winter or summer), and adjust accordingly. It's hard to make a dish using butternut squash if it isn't in season! Salads are more fun in the summer, while soup makes it onto the menu at least once a week in the winter. Then, add in chicken one night, beef another, and the occasional pork dish. Vegetarian? Sorry - I raised a bunch of carnivores. If I omitted meat, the word mutiny comes to mind.
My downfall is lunch and, yes, breakfast.
Breakfast is actually my favorite meal - I could eat eggs, sausage, and bacon every day, (throw some fresh fruit in there during the summer), but health issues tell me I shouldn't do that on a daily basis. So does the scale. (My least favorite device in the house).
Recently, my aforementioned friend Donna and I went out for a bite, and we covered a wide gamut of topics, one being meals and the need to eat healthier. (Yes, all the world's problems have now been solved. You're welcome.) That's when she mentioned something that made me go, "huh." She LOVES oatmeal. I do not. In fact, cereal is my least favorite food, but I understand the importance of it in one's diet. The only trouble is that I require a fair amount of sugar to make it remotely palatable, enough so that it would make Doctor Barry frown very hard. Then, Donna told me about Refrigerator Oatmeal.
"What's that?" you ask? Well, I looked it up this morning and found a few recipes for experimentation. (again, maniacal laughter rings through the house) I mean, who couldn't resist something called 'Blueberry Cheesecake', or 'Apple, Inc.', and don't forget 'Chocolate Banana Bonkers' and 'Peachy Blinder'. Instead of sugar, use fruit, and yogurt, and maybe a teaspoon of maple syrup! Brilliant! And, the best part? You make it the night before in a mason jar, stick it in the fridge, and voila! You have breakfast! You can take it on the go - maybe heat it in the microwave when you get to work on days you're running a little late. In the meantime, you've got a healthy breakfast that might not taste so bad. Here's the link I found for recipe ideas. https://hurrythefoodup.com/how-to-make-overnight-oats-in-a-jar
Some of the recipes suggested chia seeds - no. Sorry, but there are just some things I can't fathom, like something one would rub on a terracotta figure, add water, and watch grass grow on Shreck's head. Yeah....no. I ordered a few mason jars from our favorite online ordering spot - everything from A to Z, you know. (Sorry, DH, but I didn't want to hog up all the jars we already own!). You can make enough of these oatmeal concoctions to last a few days, so I can still have eggs once in a while. Just not every day. I can live with that.
Lunches - well, we're working on that, too. DH bought a bunch of containers so that we can make up meals over the weekend, pack them in these containers, and lunches are healthy and ready to go. Sounds like a lot of work, but if we're doing this together, then no big deal, right? It might at least be diverting for awhile!
So, if you're in the neighborhood, stop by the Pool - and please, don't be put off by the woman with crazy hair, covered in flour, running around the kitchen and laughing like she's lost her last marble. I'll always hold onto a few for my friends! Maybe there will even be a piece of pie and a hot cup of coffee to share.
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