So, I've discovered that I should add some pics to my site, which I did. Reminds me that I need to get a new batch on my computer in the office and print some out so I can finish my grandma's birthday present (sigh)
At any rate, I've also discovered with the new beta version, I can add labels. This post boasts the label blogging, which if you click on, will bring up all my previous posts on blogging, cool, eh?
And, my friend Randy has convinced me through his own enthusiasm to attempt to write 50,000 words of a novel -- during the month of November.
I talked to my mom about it last night. She and my family members will serve as characters so to speak. People will likely think I've embellished these stories I plan to weave together in some yet-to-be-determined fashion.
For those who know me well, you will get a kick out of my working title, "Boxed In." Makes me laugh as I type this. Perhaps I'll even put that in the foreword. Is that how you spell that, incidentially?
Anyone interested in joining us on the journey should check out http://www.nanowrimo.org/index.php.
There's a site all about National Novel Writers Month, referred to as NaNoWriMo. Very alien-speak like.
Maybe I'll upload some of my excerpts to my blog, using the label "novel."
Friday, October 27, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
Ear tubes and faith
"Jared, look over here. Look at Pooh! Good!" The woman waves wildly to
capture the baby's attention through the window and repeats the test on
the other side.
Jared's mother sits holding him in her lap amazed that there a way to test the
hearing of a 1-year-old boy who doesn't talk much. Jared laughs
energetically as he sees the clown light on on the right side of the
sound booth.
"Well, he has a 30 percent hearing loss," the woman says after completing the test.
Really, his mom had known on the drive over to the office that ear tubes were
pretty much a given. Her mind racing, she forced herself to think of
her good friend, Anna.
Anna knew before she did that Jared was a likely candidate for tubes, and now she was grateful to have been somewhat prepared. Anna's reassurance echoed in her mind as she asked what the next step was.
Oblivious, Jared walked around happily looking for stuff he could get his chubby little hands into. His blue eyes danced with mischief as he darted out of the room.
Wishing yet again that she had demanded her husband accompany her, she dashed
after Jared, who was already peaking into one of the exam rooms.
Sensing her proximity, he squealed and took off running again.
Her own mom had cried when she told her about the tubes, but she had not.
Focusing inward, she realized that God would take care of her baby. A
resident worrier, she often worries about things she could attempt to
control, like how to disciple her two boys or how to encourage Jared to
stop hitting his older brother, Jacob.
Medical things were simply out-of-her hands. She often found herself spacing out the specifics of medical things. She trusted that God would provide capable doctors
for her family, and he always had. It seemed easy to have faith in God
when it came to her family members, so she again wondered why she
insisted on fighting Him at every turn when he was dealing directly
with her.
capture the baby's attention through the window and repeats the test on
the other side.
Jared's mother sits holding him in her lap amazed that there a way to test the
hearing of a 1-year-old boy who doesn't talk much. Jared laughs
energetically as he sees the clown light on on the right side of the
sound booth.
"Well, he has a 30 percent hearing loss," the woman says after completing the test.
Really, his mom had known on the drive over to the office that ear tubes were
pretty much a given. Her mind racing, she forced herself to think of
her good friend, Anna.
Anna knew before she did that Jared was a likely candidate for tubes, and now she was grateful to have been somewhat prepared. Anna's reassurance echoed in her mind as she asked what the next step was.
Oblivious, Jared walked around happily looking for stuff he could get his chubby little hands into. His blue eyes danced with mischief as he darted out of the room.
Wishing yet again that she had demanded her husband accompany her, she dashed
after Jared, who was already peaking into one of the exam rooms.
Sensing her proximity, he squealed and took off running again.
Her own mom had cried when she told her about the tubes, but she had not.
Focusing inward, she realized that God would take care of her baby. A
resident worrier, she often worries about things she could attempt to
control, like how to disciple her two boys or how to encourage Jared to
stop hitting his older brother, Jacob.
Medical things were simply out-of-her hands. She often found herself spacing out the specifics of medical things. She trusted that God would provide capable doctors
for her family, and he always had. It seemed easy to have faith in God
when it came to her family members, so she again wondered why she
insisted on fighting Him at every turn when he was dealing directly
with her.
Monday, October 16, 2006
It's 1 a.m.
OK, I'm officially addicted to blogging. I started out by grading all of my feature writing blogs. Kudos to Trista, Kammie and Crystal, the only three who are completely caught up.
After I made a fun chart to track who had read whose blog and read the new posts, I decided to add a few posts to my own. But, it's 1 a.m. Geez! I have two boys who will be up at the crack of dawn. What a bad decision.
Oh, well. I don't regret it one bit. I love blogging!
And, I think I've blogged the required amount of posts myself, so I know it can be accomplished :)
After I made a fun chart to track who had read whose blog and read the new posts, I decided to add a few posts to my own. But, it's 1 a.m. Geez! I have two boys who will be up at the crack of dawn. What a bad decision.
Oh, well. I don't regret it one bit. I love blogging!
And, I think I've blogged the required amount of posts myself, so I know it can be accomplished :)
Sisters
I'm the oldest of four girls, now women. As the oldest, I have managed to mother and smother all of my sisters at one point or another. I've loaned quite a few dollars that never seemed to make their way back to me.
My sisters and I are as different as night and day, which is probably one reason I tend to feel like the resident outsider. I've been referred to as the resident "dream crusher" when I've tried to help one of them reach a goal by taking a more efficient path. (Don't confuse this with trying to run their lives - ha. ha.)
I'm used to being on the outside in my family. The real break happened when I was in college. I did put some distance between my family and myself. I was selfish and only wanted to focus on me. Then I became a more relevant Christian, and I felt the divide grow even wider.
I have always hated being the one on the outside in my family. My mom reads this blog, and she might even be mad at me at the end. But, she was a mom who worked really hard while I was growing up. I was a good helper for her in many ways, and to some, especially my sisters, it would seem that I might be the favorite. And, now I'm the mother of her only two grandsons, whom she completely adores. She will gain a granddaughter sometime next year when my sister gets married, but I've generally had a good relationship with my mom.
I was not a great big sister, however. I was mean to my sisters on a regular, if not daily, basis. They were a burden to me. I had to watch them a lot, and instead of using that time for fun and bonding, I was cold and distant.
As a Christian, I believe we are forgiven, but we must always deal with the consequences of our actions. My consequence is two sisters who seem so far away, physically and figuratively, seem to have little interest in having a real relationship with me.
Sure, we play nice, talk on the phone every now and again and e-mail, but I want more. They both live in Michigan, and I am such a homebody in general. I want to understand them more, but I always tend to view things wrong when it comes to family.
I'm rather passionate about my faith, and this has caused me numerous set-backs in our relationships. Mostly it's my own fault because I seem to lack any sense of tact when it comes to my family.
I'm not sure I really even know anything about middle child number three. She makes it clear that family are really not welcome in her life details.
I was 13 when my youngest sister was born, and I do feel there is more hope overall in this relationshp because it's really just forming as she heads into adulthood. She'll be 21 in July.
I really want the four of us to take a fun, "girls only" trip to Vegas to celebrate the baby's birthday. Maybe this is just the chance to make true amends and develop a friendship for life.
Don't get me wrong. I love my sisters very much, but I want to know they really love me back. Is that so wrong?
My sisters and I are as different as night and day, which is probably one reason I tend to feel like the resident outsider. I've been referred to as the resident "dream crusher" when I've tried to help one of them reach a goal by taking a more efficient path. (Don't confuse this with trying to run their lives - ha. ha.)
I'm used to being on the outside in my family. The real break happened when I was in college. I did put some distance between my family and myself. I was selfish and only wanted to focus on me. Then I became a more relevant Christian, and I felt the divide grow even wider.
I have always hated being the one on the outside in my family. My mom reads this blog, and she might even be mad at me at the end. But, she was a mom who worked really hard while I was growing up. I was a good helper for her in many ways, and to some, especially my sisters, it would seem that I might be the favorite. And, now I'm the mother of her only two grandsons, whom she completely adores. She will gain a granddaughter sometime next year when my sister gets married, but I've generally had a good relationship with my mom.
I was not a great big sister, however. I was mean to my sisters on a regular, if not daily, basis. They were a burden to me. I had to watch them a lot, and instead of using that time for fun and bonding, I was cold and distant.
As a Christian, I believe we are forgiven, but we must always deal with the consequences of our actions. My consequence is two sisters who seem so far away, physically and figuratively, seem to have little interest in having a real relationship with me.
Sure, we play nice, talk on the phone every now and again and e-mail, but I want more. They both live in Michigan, and I am such a homebody in general. I want to understand them more, but I always tend to view things wrong when it comes to family.
I'm rather passionate about my faith, and this has caused me numerous set-backs in our relationships. Mostly it's my own fault because I seem to lack any sense of tact when it comes to my family.
I'm not sure I really even know anything about middle child number three. She makes it clear that family are really not welcome in her life details.
I was 13 when my youngest sister was born, and I do feel there is more hope overall in this relationshp because it's really just forming as she heads into adulthood. She'll be 21 in July.
I really want the four of us to take a fun, "girls only" trip to Vegas to celebrate the baby's birthday. Maybe this is just the chance to make true amends and develop a friendship for life.
Don't get me wrong. I love my sisters very much, but I want to know they really love me back. Is that so wrong?
Praise
I teach writing, but I'm still a reporter. Might be an actual reporter if the hours were better.
Anyway, I got an e-mail from an editor at the local paper saying that she liked my story and my lede. I obsessed a great deal over both, by the way. And, I am very proud to receive this compliment for my work. I'm still worried that others might not like it, but that's more or less my personality.
I was always very envious of my oldest, younger sister because so many things seemed to come natually to her.
I played the flute in band, and at one time sat first chair. But, I practiced my butt off for that and stopped when the boys got more interesting. She picks up any instrument and without a care is creating music.
I love to write. I've always loved to write. And, as I teach my students year after year, I always wonder if I've got what it takes to make it at what I'm teaching. Again, writing is something that comes quite easily to my sister. She's a great poet, and her writing comes from her soul.
I have had the amazing opportunity to interview some truly amazing people in my day. I even got to hug Maya Angelou when I was the editor of my college newspaper. Yeah! I hugged the woman.
I'm passionate about a lot of people and things, so when I write a story, especially one I've pitched, I'm tied to it. It's fate rests in my hands for the most part. Sure, an editor is going to come along and add the polish, but an editor can only take a story so far.
Anyway, I got an e-mail from an editor at the local paper saying that she liked my story and my lede. I obsessed a great deal over both, by the way. And, I am very proud to receive this compliment for my work. I'm still worried that others might not like it, but that's more or less my personality.
I was always very envious of my oldest, younger sister because so many things seemed to come natually to her.
I played the flute in band, and at one time sat first chair. But, I practiced my butt off for that and stopped when the boys got more interesting. She picks up any instrument and without a care is creating music.
I love to write. I've always loved to write. And, as I teach my students year after year, I always wonder if I've got what it takes to make it at what I'm teaching. Again, writing is something that comes quite easily to my sister. She's a great poet, and her writing comes from her soul.
I have had the amazing opportunity to interview some truly amazing people in my day. I even got to hug Maya Angelou when I was the editor of my college newspaper. Yeah! I hugged the woman.
I'm passionate about a lot of people and things, so when I write a story, especially one I've pitched, I'm tied to it. It's fate rests in my hands for the most part. Sure, an editor is going to come along and add the polish, but an editor can only take a story so far.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Weakest link
My latest theory is a spinoff of an old one. A family is only as strong as its weakest link.
This week has been a nightmare of sorts. My poor husband has spent the last several days coughing and hacking with enough passion to shake the very foundation of our little house. Cough medicine, which is to be taken only every four hours, takes a good 30 minutes to kick in and wears off 30 minutes before the next dose is due.
Brings me back to the days of nursing my oldest son. There was a "sleep window" in-between feedings, of course, but you had to be quick about getting right to sleeping. And, at the moment true contement would invade the would-be sleeper, the baby was hungry again.
My sweetie has voluteered to take the sofa, but a sick man deserves his own bed. I could take the sofa myself, but I fear that would only make him feel worse that he already does.
So, I am currently running on very little sleep, and I've been lugging my backpack around all week. It's full of stuff I need to grade desperately, but I have lacked time, energy and ability to focus.
Today I woke up to the sound of my yougest son doing his best to imitate his poor daddy. Oh, no. Here we go again.
This week has been a nightmare of sorts. My poor husband has spent the last several days coughing and hacking with enough passion to shake the very foundation of our little house. Cough medicine, which is to be taken only every four hours, takes a good 30 minutes to kick in and wears off 30 minutes before the next dose is due.
Brings me back to the days of nursing my oldest son. There was a "sleep window" in-between feedings, of course, but you had to be quick about getting right to sleeping. And, at the moment true contement would invade the would-be sleeper, the baby was hungry again.
My sweetie has voluteered to take the sofa, but a sick man deserves his own bed. I could take the sofa myself, but I fear that would only make him feel worse that he already does.
So, I am currently running on very little sleep, and I've been lugging my backpack around all week. It's full of stuff I need to grade desperately, but I have lacked time, energy and ability to focus.
Today I woke up to the sound of my yougest son doing his best to imitate his poor daddy. Oh, no. Here we go again.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Grading
I teach writing. Actually, I coach young writers. Well, maybe I just make them write their butts off.
Anyway you break it down, my classes require a lot of grading. I like grading when these things happen.
1) My students have followed directions.
2) Their work indicates that they care a trifle about the assignment
3) It's quality writing.
4) It does not take me more time to grade than the time the student put into the assignment.
I do not love grading when these things happen.
1) It's late.
2) It's sloppy.
3) It's full of stupid errors.
4) There's too much of it (I am a hard-core believer in practice makes better!)
5) I've basically read the same paper for the last two hours. (Be creative and original, please!)
Anyway you break it down, my classes require a lot of grading. I like grading when these things happen.
1) My students have followed directions.
2) Their work indicates that they care a trifle about the assignment
3) It's quality writing.
4) It does not take me more time to grade than the time the student put into the assignment.
I do not love grading when these things happen.
1) It's late.
2) It's sloppy.
3) It's full of stupid errors.
4) There's too much of it (I am a hard-core believer in practice makes better!)
5) I've basically read the same paper for the last two hours. (Be creative and original, please!)
Monday, October 02, 2006
Discipline, take one
Brick walls speak to me. Most likely because I've walked into them time and time again. I'm not sure why I have to learn everything the hard way, but I'm stumped to recall an easy life lesson.
I hate being disciplined for any reason, and I hate the fact that I lack a lot of discipline in many key areas of my life. This summer, God really decided to confront this quality in me. I have had a crazy year, staring with work in January, and I was looking forward to summer.
The previous summer is a blur as baby Jared came home with us in May of 2005. With his infancy mostly behind us, I was looking forward to having a little more control over my life. Yeah, I'm a control freak, too. Discipline and control are too closely related for my comfort. I think it takes a lot of discipline in my life for me to give up the control I seem to desire at every turn.
The need for control fights with my heart's desire to wak more closely with God.
I need God in my life. I have learned this lesson one brick wall at a time. When I get stressed, however, I tend to flee (lack of discipline). When problems come my way, I search MY brain for ways to fix them (need to control).
So, what happens when a family member becomes diagnosed with cancer or another one risks losing custody of her son? Well, all bets are off. (In addition to that sentence containing a question, which I rail against in my writing classes, it also contains a cliché. Oh, well. I love being able to make and break the rules).
God gave me a purpose in life, and it takes a lot of discipline to discover what it is. Daily Bible readings have helped me focus my attention to God's word; a weekly Bible study in our home takes me through the 40 Days of Purpose campaign; and God is not just using these tools to convict me. I hear calls to get more sleep, eat better, exercise more, spend quality time with my kids and husband and then there's always saving the world. Even maintaining frienships takes discipline. It's all around us, and I am beginning to fear there is no escape.
Only there is: Get with the program, Regina. (I'd say stop whining, but I find whining to be one of my favorite pasttimes. It's not that I think I'm not blessed because I am incredibly so, but I still like to whine.
I hate being disciplined for any reason, and I hate the fact that I lack a lot of discipline in many key areas of my life. This summer, God really decided to confront this quality in me. I have had a crazy year, staring with work in January, and I was looking forward to summer.
The previous summer is a blur as baby Jared came home with us in May of 2005. With his infancy mostly behind us, I was looking forward to having a little more control over my life. Yeah, I'm a control freak, too. Discipline and control are too closely related for my comfort. I think it takes a lot of discipline in my life for me to give up the control I seem to desire at every turn.
The need for control fights with my heart's desire to wak more closely with God.
I need God in my life. I have learned this lesson one brick wall at a time. When I get stressed, however, I tend to flee (lack of discipline). When problems come my way, I search MY brain for ways to fix them (need to control).
So, what happens when a family member becomes diagnosed with cancer or another one risks losing custody of her son? Well, all bets are off. (In addition to that sentence containing a question, which I rail against in my writing classes, it also contains a cliché. Oh, well. I love being able to make and break the rules).
God gave me a purpose in life, and it takes a lot of discipline to discover what it is. Daily Bible readings have helped me focus my attention to God's word; a weekly Bible study in our home takes me through the 40 Days of Purpose campaign; and God is not just using these tools to convict me. I hear calls to get more sleep, eat better, exercise more, spend quality time with my kids and husband and then there's always saving the world. Even maintaining frienships takes discipline. It's all around us, and I am beginning to fear there is no escape.
Only there is: Get with the program, Regina. (I'd say stop whining, but I find whining to be one of my favorite pasttimes. It's not that I think I'm not blessed because I am incredibly so, but I still like to whine.
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