You know how people are always telling you how things are going to be, and then, when the time comes, what they told you is absolutely true? Here's my point. People always told me that you never feel you are getting older; that sometimes you feel your age, and other times it seems like you are still young. Well; here I am. 51 years old.
Today at lunch, Andy was holding a baby at the restaurant where we were eating with some friends, and I looked at him and he seemed 25 again, as when he held Dana just that way. How did we get here so fast?!? And now, the people that looked SO OLD as they reached their 50s when I was young look amazingly young and chipper!! I'm too old for some things and not old enough by a large margin for some others!! It's so confusing!!!
This time thing just wears me out!

I'm so glad God is not like me. I love hearing from Dana and Erin, and I hate time to go by when I don't get to talk to them and find out how their lives are going. They don't call everyday, or some days they call more than once, but I can't recall one time when they started off a conversation with a list of the things they need. Usually it's a funny happening during their day, or a general phone chat.

I was wondering about that at 1:30 this morning, when I was praying.
I've given up praying before bedtime, because I'm asleep before I know it and then, I'm ashamed. So, when I wake up in the night, I"ll call on the Father. Being the mom that I am, I usually start off with concerns and blessings I seek for the kids, and that's not what I should be doing. My God deserves so much more of my adoration and praise, and I hit him with "I need" and "I want."

Forgive me, Father God for not just calling to visit. Things are going pretty well here, and I thank You for all those blessings. You are such an awesome God, and I love how you wait so patiently for me.

I have always loved my students. Some more than others, and all for different reasons; but with rare exception, I have been able to find something loveable about them. When you spend 185+ days with a kid, you laugh alot, cry (usually not in front of them), hear the bad and good about home, and see them in daily interaction with the world around them. There are days you just wish they would go away and let you move on. When Dana and Erin were small, I'd tell them, "Your teachers' job is to teach you, not to be your friend." and I meant every word. Teachers are not friends. We are a myriad of other roles in their lives, but friend cannot be one of those roles. Now, more than ever, I see us as guardian, counselor, and comforter. Home is not what it was, and by the look in their eyes, you see what is missing. I feel it when they walk past me and either just run their hands along my shoulder or fall with full abandon onto my lap and arms. As I age, I find my role is less and less academic and more and more about really teaching them what they need for life; others before and after me can impart the "book learning," but I feel COMPELLED to invest my time and energy into making each and every one of them feel loved and valuable and full of an amazing future. 185 days doesn't seem long enough to impact a life in that way. It all makes the stuff of school business seem ridiculously trivial.

I want to spend money. Lots, and lots of money. I don't care if it's real or plastic, I want to drop a bundle.

We've been doing Dave Ramsey for about a year now, I think. It's helped us a lot, and we've made good progress, but we still have some debt to handle before we can yell, "Debt Free!!!" I've been obedient to his doctrine and have budgeted almost every penny, but I am ready to explode. I "need" to buy so many things, and I want more than I "need." I can barely see that little light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.

Patience, Amy. It'll be worth it when it happens.

I'm pretty sure God didn't set up His church with this in mind, but in 2006, this has to be my favorite part of the church....

On Sunday, we worshipped with Erin and Gregg at West Houston church of Christ in Houston. It was our second time, and we were looking forward to meeting more of their friends. They have an energetic worship leader, and a good minister, and so we were up for it. Just as we were being seated for worship, Dana grabs my arm and starts jumping up and down, "There's the Parkers!" she says and points across the way. Sure enough, Cecil and Cheryl Parker were going to their seats right across the aisle. We met and worshipped with the Parkers in Katy in the early 1980s, and then Dana became acquainted with them during her student teaching time at Cinco Ranch, where they are members now. They were there to visit with friends on Sunday, so they got to meet Erin and Gregg. It was wonderful to see these dear saints and catch up, even if for a minute. God is so good to give us these glimpses of Heaven, where we'll all be re-united forever in praise and glory!! It was the icing on the cake of a wonderful weekend with my dear ones.

On a serious note, please pray for me. There is a chance I may be reassigned to another teaching assignment in the next few weeks, one I"m not excited about at all. Pray a suitable candidate can be found and hired, so that I can stay where I am and continue the work I find so rewarding. I'd appreciate it very much.

Sweet dreams on this Monday night.

Today, we are going to my sister -in-law's home for "the gathering." There will be about 25 of us with all the family there, and it will be wonderful. Chris and Alan are a model of how to be good hosts and hostesses; just the right amount of food and drink; music, lots of laughter, and a lovely back yard to sit and visit in. The weather is "chamber of commerce" for the city of Houston, and I'm looking forward to it bigtime. My kids fed us a late and yummy breakfast, Andy walked the dog and Dana did laundry. Life in the fast lane...

Hope you are having a good day! :)

well, I'm here at Erin's . She's making lasagna and salad and bread for dinner - I am NOT going to want to cook when I get home after a week off!! Had a good night with Dana and a safe drive over to Houston. We saw the aunt and uncle for a bit at my inlaws, now it's time for Gregg and Dana to get here so the card games can commence !! Roark is glad to see us, and good times are here for all!! I love family times-

hope you enjoy your loved ones this weekend!! And, thanks Jenn!

Well, I got to San Marcos a little later than planned - today was off from the get-go.... imagine my face when the man on the radio informed me it was 7:20 - not the 6:20 I needed it to be. Well, anyway, I beat the tardy bell and left school with everything in place for the sub tomorrow.

Dana and I had a yummy dinner at a little place by the outlet mall; including Frickles - fried dill pickle spears. Wow - my mouth was a water sprinkler all day thinking about it. Now, tonight I sleep at her place and head for the city of Houston tomorrow to meet up with my dear Andrew. I can't wait to look into those eyes I love and kiss that sweet mouth!!

Sleep well -

Well, I'm supposed to be packing to go to San Marcos, and I can't get going. I've done the laundry, and mentally done the hard part - what to take with me, but it isn't doing it by itself. I need to gather things to take with me; mom's cake dish, a late birthday gift for one of my favorite Houstonians, Andy's forgotten socks, etc. It is not that big a deal; yet for some reason, I'm waiting. I'm way ready to see my Andy and the kids, but I'm also dreading the drive over by myself. I guess that's the key; I'm not liking being by myself. I'm ready for that t0 be over. I miss Andy....

Growing up, my family was lower middle class. Dad worked at Kelly AFB in San Antonio and mom was a housewife. We had one car, one t.v., and - literally - furniture from "the town dump." Mom made most of my clothes - she was very talented- and life was good. In fact, going to the dump was one of our great family adventures.

Somehow, my mom would know when the "good stuff" would be there, and we'd load up in the car and drive out. We made sure we had good shoes on, in case you stepped on something sharp. Then, we'd spread out and start looking. I think I remember being aware that I should be embarrassed to be walking among trash, but mom made it such an adventure that it was okay. Now remember, back then, people burned their household garbage, so most of this stuff was broken down, "useless" items no one wanted anymore. In the hands of my mom, though, it was rejuvenated. A coat of paint, some of dad's handwork with tools, and it had a new life. We've walk and look, and if we found something of interest, we'd call everyone over to see. I'm sure it was odd looking from someone else's perspective, but for us, it was an outdoor version of Family General!
Leave it to my mom and dad to put life back into someone else's junk.

I never took Dana and Erin to the dump... but there's always tomorrow!

Well, I'm about to venture out and pick up some things from the store. I had a peaceful night - finally turned off my bedside light about 1:20 am, and got up with my alarm about 7:30. Lazy day, trying to decide what I want to eat while my man is away. I may splurge and do Chinese one night, but not tonight. No school, the timing's off. Watched some movies and read the paper. I don't think I'd want this to be my daily routine, but it's good every once in a while. Tomorrow, it's back to school, and I"ll be back.

I miss Andrew - hurry, Friday!!

Andy and I have been married 30+ years... roughly 11,086 nights. Probably only 100 of those have I spent by myself while he was away, and most of those 100, I had the girls with me. My point ? I'm about to spend 4 consequetive nights alone in our home. What's the big deal, you may ask? I AM A COWARD!! I love the idea of not cooking and watching just what I want and falling out of bed to make it to work, but the sleeping alone part creeps me out!! So, if you don't mind, pray for my peace and security while I pass the nights away. I'm not good when I don't sleep, so that makes me even more anxious. I'll just give it a go, and let you know later how things work out.

Sweet dreams.

I eat lunch everyday with a couple of my co-workers. We dash in, grab the microwave to be first, and then we sit to enjoy our 30 min. lunch. The other day, we were talking about our habits at night, and how in a routine we all seem to be. One lady said, she and her husband, every Friday night, pop one bag of popcorn and drink -between them - one and a half Cokes. Not a coke a piece, one and a half. Another lady shared her and her husband's routine of getting their snacks together and watching the same movie over and over. I shared that Andy and I have "flake night" on Thursdays, where we fix our plates and sit on the couch to watch our favorite shows. No phone calls are allowed and we pretty much do it exactly the same each week. We all decided that these are pretty harmless, but do sound a little, well, mundane. I don't care. That Thursday night, I know Andy is mine alone, and even if not one sentence is shared, I know life is good. Here's to many Thursdays to come.

Been sitting here a while, wondering what to post. Usually, something pops into my head, but not today. I guess I'll just say "hello" and to have a nice, peaceful evening. That's it for today.

Chili's is almost ready to open it's doors here in Pleasanton. Wow - and I hear that Home Depot is coming soon as well. Now, I'm happy to have these nice, convenient places to go, it "saves the drive" into town and makes our little town more credible in the eyes of some people. But I find myself putting on the brakes - just how big do we want our little town to become? Will we be just be one chain after another soon - I mean, we already have HEB, Subway, and Bill Miller.
Good stuff, but at what price? Small towns are their own identities, and if we aren't careful, we'll just become another offshoot of the city. I guess you have to take the bad with the good. I guess time will tell -

Calendars are a big deal in our family. Every Christmas, almost, one is chosed with great care for each member of our family. None of these insurance or bank, run of the mill calendars for us! Andy usually had Star Trek; me, Far Side - you get the drift. Well, today is "turn the calendar day" for October. New birthdays appear, school holidays, other exciting events make themselves known. I love it.

Today's turning reminds me of my favorite season - Fall. I love everything about it - the smells, colors, new foods, the way the sun shines through the giant oaks on my way to school each morning, and so on. Holidays we wait for all year are closer, and with that comes family. There's just not a time better than Fall!

Do you have a favorite season?

There is a scripture that tells us to be prepared to give a reason for the hope that is in us. I'm pretty good at the "why I believe what I believe" aspect of that, but yesterday, I was put in a position that was different. I only hope I didn't mess things up....

A lady I work with is a member, should I say WAS a member, of my congregation. She admitted to me that she has not been very involved or has not studied as much as she should. She was concerned about something she'd heard at worship on Tuesday night, and wanted to know my stand on what she'd heard. She was really upset, and I knew I had to choose my words carefully but be truthful. We spent about 20 minutes, and I think I did okay. I pray I did- I want her to study more and learn from the truth what should be. I hope you'll pray for me that i might continue to have dialouge with her about this, and that she will make peace and return to our fellowship.

I get LOTS of forwards. Sometimes I send them on, sometimes not - like those "do it in 10 days or else you will DIE and the earth will implode!" ones. There have been several that contain all those little words of wisdom, and I usually read them through, just looking for new ones. Well, not so long ago, I cut this one out and hung it on my file cabinet at school: "There are worse things than a wrong number at 4:30 in the morning." Yesterday, I got one of those calls. It wasn't at 4:30 in the morning, but the message was just as scary.

Erin had been in a wreck in Houston, and Gregg was calling to give her Dad and me the news. His voice was one of calm terror - trying to ease the news and yet not scare the life out of me. She is okay, he said, and then proceeded to give me the details. Later, when Andy asked me a hundred questions, I could not recall detail one, but my girl is okay. Jerk in the red car that spun her around like a top kept going like a coward, but several nice people stopped to help.

Later in the evening, she felt like talking, so she called. I was really okay, until she told me about heading for the guardrail the seperated her from becoming a projectile out over the skies of Houston. I managed to swallow that big lump and keep talking to her, but the image shook me pretty good. She is okay. She is okay.

Thanks to all the nice folks who came to her rescue in the midst of craziness - I take back all the mean things I've said about Houston drivers!!

More and more, I enjoy sitting back and watching people around me interact. Tonight after church services were over, I was talking to my friend Jackie about something that was really weighing on her heart. I was listening to her, she had my full attention, except for the people behind her that I was watching. She asked me if she was bothering me, and I assured her that I was with her, but just checking something out. The two people I was looking at were as close as two people could be, face to face, arms around each other, bodies in full embrace. The beauty of this picture is that, only a few months ago, these two had gone through major trauma in their joined lives, and their relationship had appeared doomed. A long-term, intimate friendship, shattered beyond repair. Or so it seemed. I don't know who initiated the healing between them, or if they will come out of it anywhere near what they once were, but tonight, they were back and talking. Loving. Forgiving. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and renews my faith in the resilience of the human spirit to overcome the most broken of hearts. I believe it was truly something only a loving God could do. It made my night.

Really nothing burning to blog about tonight; kinda tired from the busy weekend and headed out in a minute for more dynamic preaching and dinner after with dear friends.

Come to think of it, how much of the world would consider going to church on a Monday something peaceful and uplifting? I'm glad I share this blog with those of like mind, who do understand that, no matter how tired I am, and how I'd love to stay home on my couch for "Deal or No Deal?", I will go anyway and be so glad that I did.

What does the world know about contentment, anyway?!?

I love you guys, out there in my blogland!!

Ode to Erin

Everyone ought to have an Erin in their family. Over the years, I've observed things in common with girls named Erin, and most of them fit mine. They are outspoken. They stand up for the underdog and don't care what people think of them for being friends with such. They question. They get what they want; usually by wearing down the opposition (i.e. parents!) They are loving and fiercely protective of those they love. They are not easily led, but are loyal to those they follow.

Dana was 2 yrs. and 8 months old when Erin was born. I think that is the perfect age, for they have been best sisters all their lives. Other than Gregg, Dana is the one person I don't think Erin could live without, which makes me so happy. Erin loves her father fiercely and has always wanted just to make him proud. And me? I think Erin thinks I'm kinda easy; she's always known how to persuade me, to make me laugh when I wanted to be SO mad at her I could scream (and did, a few times!) and can say "MOM!" in more than 100 ways - well, maybe not.

We tease Erin a lot, because she's given us so many wonderful memories to use at her expense, but the truth is, she is the perfect daughter. There is not one thing about her I would change for all the money in the world. There's not another mom in the world with a daughter like mine, and I thank God for her every moment of my life.

Happy Birthday, Erin Elaine LaMore Johnson September 24, 1982

I have several things on my mind today to blog about, but I think I'll do the one most specific to this day... the others will come later.

This afternoon, Andy and I attended an Eagle Scout ceremony for a young man we know through church. He told us that he has been working on his Eagle for 4 years; I can't control my eating for a month. What does that say about me!?

Anyway, back to Aaron. His scout leader told the group gathered today that only 1 in 200 scouts make it to Eagle; the highest rank on scouting. My dad was a scout master for the majority of my life, and he only had 4 or 5 that I can remember. He loved those boys and kept in touch with them all his life. In fact, one of them threw a water balloon and broke my car windshield and I wouldn't tell Dad who it was because I knew he would be so disappointed! One of the neat things is that most Presidents were Eagle Scouts, along with members of Congress and many high level business leaders.

So what does camping and wearing that goofy uniform have to do with being so successful? I have to believe it is more that the process, it is the care and influence of the adults in that boy's life that enable him to have the perception of himself that he can accomplish the difficult without quitting when it gets hard. They learn to dream and plan and depend on others to help them along the way.

I hope to learn in the future that Aaron has done great things with his life; he certainly has gotten off to a great start!!

Five years ago today, Margaret Young, my mom, died. I miss her humor and her ability to see the best in people, her desire for equality and justice for all people and her generosity of spirit. I hope her spirit is at peace.

One of the most frustrating things about mom-dom is having to sit back and watch your kid hurt. Whether it is to help them learn a lesson, or grow a little more independent or just survive one of life's lovely little tragedies, it is what I have hated the most about being a mom. When babies cry, you pick them up and give them a bottle or passie or blankie and most of what is hurting them is gone in two seconds. Then, they are able to put into words what is wrong, and you can talk them through the rough spots.
When they go to college or whatever life takes them to, you are suddenly separated by miles, and you hear their voice over the phone. The anguish and disappointment over the lines breaks your heart, but you KNOW they have to handle it. Although there is not a lot you can do, you'd do whatever if it would just make the pain go away. You know that life will be better and that the days ahead will get better as time passes, but they are dealing with the here and now. And it hurts. All you can do is love them through it. Man, it's hard.

Who says Texas doesn't have seasons: we had Fall today! I saw and felt it myself. First, Andy came and got me up to go to the back porch and feel the air. No mistaking that feel - Fall! You can stand and inhale all day long and never get tired of it after months and months of triple digit dry weather. Unfortunately, I had to get ready for school, so I went back in. But - later in the day, I was walking back to my building, and looked down and saw a beautiful red leaf, laying on the dirt for my pleasure! Now, it WAS a crepe myrtle, and they do turn when nothing else will, and it is a little early, but I don't care. For that moment, I was in Vermont or Maine, or where ever; where you actually need long sleeves and corduroy pants and mittens of all colors. It was great!! "Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!"

I really didn't know what I wanted to write about today until I checked my comments from the last entry... YIPPEE!!! Shanon's here! My dear friend that makes my heart smile just by reading her name was there in black and white for me to see!! WELCOME, dear one!

Shanon and I had our first daughters within 4 months of each other. We lived next door to each other and our husbands worked together in the prison unit down the road. We ate cheese dip and played games, and new each other's families. We were both teachers and involved in our respective churches, so life was just grand. After Dana was born, I was staying home the rest of the year with her, and everyday, Shanon would pull in her driveway and go put her stuff in her house. Then, she'd walk over and come see us. She'd take Dana in her arms and lay her across her growing belly and say, "Look baby, here's your friend Dana to play with you." Then, we'd visit while Dana just lay there. How do you top that?!?

Well, the years have passed, and we've both made lots of other friends, but for me, she's still among the very top in almost every way.

My heart is still smiling, just thinking about my friend. I hope you have some one like that in your life.

When my mother died and my sister and nephew left town, my sweet father-in-law asked us when we'd be moving back over toward Houston. Andy has 2 brothers and a sister and we are the only ones who've left the area. We see them a few times every year; mainly holidays and birthdays and now graduation kinds of times. I feel my nieces and nephews don't really know me, but that is how things are when you do live apart.

Anyway, after he asked us that, we talked about leaving and finding a new life closer by. Andy checked openings in his field and I hit the houses in the towns he brought home, and we talked about being closer to Erin and Gregg. Then, we came to a conclusion that my father-in-law just doesn't "get." Pleasanton IS home. So much of our lives are rooted here; our history, our church family - we are not ready to walk away from that into an uncertain place. Tonight that was shown to me again, when we went to the football game. Former students, co-workers, folks from church, etc. were all around us. Kids that we've watched grow up are now in band and cheerleading and playing on the team. We sit on the bleachers where we've sat for several teams, right at home with our crew. It was all so familiar, and felt so right.

I'm not saying we'll never leave - only God knows those kind of things, but for now, we'll stick with Pleasanton. Why? We've been very blessed and feel like no other house could be our home.

I am SO tired of reruns!! I am ready for the new season to begin, so that I can get back to my obsessions: Lost, 24 (but not until Jan. for that one!), Medium, CSI, and ER are full of old friends and unfinished business!! What in the world do these people do when they aren't making new shows for me to watch?!? I know, it comes across as a terribly mundane life, but after a long day of reality, I want escapism and fiction! They even saved 7th Heaven after the WB was going to kill it, so now I can keep up with Eric and Annie and their brood of pregnant kids. (By the way, how can all 3 sets of kids be having twins - that's even too far-fetched for me to conceive. Pardon the pun!!) Just a week or so to go, then it'll all start up again.

I know - get a life, Amy.

I really don't feel like being serious tonight - just got through watching Sybil and that will put a downer on any day. So, let's talk about dolls !

When I was little, my mom had a part-time job while Gary and I were in school. Her purpose was to get out of the house that she felt cloistered in, and she would do various little jobs around town. Every payday, she would cash her little check, load Gary and me into the car, and off we'd go to San Antonio. My mom knew one way in to Sears on Military Drive, and one way home. We never ventured off that road, and never went anywhere else, except to the bowling alley down the road. At Sears, I would get a new doll and a bag of malted milk balls from the candy counter. Gary would get candy and then we'd go bowling. I'd play with my doll while he and mom bowled.
Needless to say, after just a little while, I'd have quite a collection of dolls. Gary, being the great big brother that he was, did his best to destroy them, but I got them faster than he could plan their demise.

Now, I know I had favorite dolls, but to pick one would be very hard. I don't even consider Barbies in that group; they were a world of their own. But if I had to choose, I'd pick Tiny Tears. A lovely little baby face, made of hard plastic, but sweet to behold. You'd fill her "tummy" with water in her bottle, and then when you'd squeeze her, the tears would flow. Looking back, it was kind of odd to set your baby up to cry, but I'm sure there's nothing psychological in that - it was just fun. I played hours and hours with Tiny (she never had a real name that I can remember!) and have her to this day. She gave me lots of practice for holding Dana and Erin, and for that, I'm thankful!

Do you recall a favorite doll of your own?

Isn't it funny how you do something everyday and think nothing of it, and someone comes along and makes a BIG DEAL about how wonderful it is that you are doing that thing you do everyday?

One thing I've learned about teaching Special Ed kids is that they are just kids like any other. I'm not talking about the severe/profound kids; just the everyday kids with learning disabilities. I don't want to try to figure out how many I've taught over the years, but it's been a few dozen at least, and some have been more trying than others. However, they are "what I do" and to me there are others out there much more trying and frustrating than my kids. Well... today, my teacher with whom I do inclusion came up to me and said, "God bless you, God bless you for working with _____ like you do!" She was very flattering and kind, and I felt good but it's really not that hard. Perhaps I shouldn't tell that out loud; I may be "found out." But really, it's not a big thing. I just look at them as if they were my own, and treat them with the respect I would want my own daughters treated. The rest is plain old teaching. I feel blessed to do it everyday - really. The rewards are immeasureable.

Rain, rain, rain!! Finally, nice, measureable, sweet-smelling rain has come back to Pleasanton! The earth is drinking it up as quickly as it falls, and will take all the skies have to offer. Our cat is even enjoying being out in is, as it cools things off so nicely.

It's nice to have prayers answered, isn't it?? Thanks, Father for taking care of us this day.

Don't you love eyes?! Everything you need to know about a person and what they feel and think can be learned by one glimpse at their eyes. Yesterday, I had two amazing glimpses into a person's feelings.

One was a man I was speaking to about an event in our not so distant past. This is a calm and yet passionate man, who never fails to show compassion for others and still hold people responsible for their actions. As we talked, and I mentioned a specific event, immediately his eyes flamed with intensity and I knew I'd opened a can of worms I shouldn't have. My husband's eyes do that; they glow with fire when you've said something that sets his blood to boil. Stop while you can or be ready to hear the truth as he knows it.

The other instance yesterday was when I was working with a 4th grade teacher in her classroom. I was across from her with a group while she was testing a little boy I have in Resource. At just the right minute, we met eyes across the classroom, and her eyes were looking at me in amazement that this child could not read a letter, much less words and sentences. The look of horror that said, "What will I do with him!?" shot out of her eyes and was sad and humorous at the same time. Forget Vegas, Tracy - you have NO poker face!

Eyes - they sometime betray us and yet they give us so much that words fail to convey.

Today was library day for a couple of my dyslexia groups. We walked over and the boys knew exactly what type of book they were looking for, so it was an easy trip. Wish they always had an idea of what they wanted before we walked into the place....

Anyway. School nowdays is rush, rush, hurry, don't take time to talk, look, wonder, think, etc. 5 minutes here, 20 there, don't go off the treadmill for a minute or you'll throw the whole thing off. Well, not today.

On the way back from the library, we stopped. Right on the sidewalk, in the open for all to see. Why? There was a wonderfully entertaining squirrel hiding from us on the trunk of the tree beside the sidewalk, and my two little 9 year olds were transfixed. We took the time to watch, in silence and awe the movements of the squirrel, and then, as an added bonus, two little sparrows taking a bath in the sprinkler in the grass. When the animals moved on, so did we. Back to the room for the remaining minutes. Did we finish our work today? No. Are we behind and have to catch up - yes. Was it worth it- you bet. For a minute, school was fun today.

I'll bet I know what the boys talked about doing today, and it wasn't work.

Every marriage has its problems.

I don't like to go to bed by myself. I need more sleep than Andy does.
Thus, our problem. I should sleep from about 9:30 to 6:30, and he can run on only about 5 hours of sleep. So, if I try to match his pattern, I am grumpy and miserable and the little children at school have to put up with me. My eyes water and I yawn a lot - it's not pretty, people. I'm on the couch, waiting for him to come to bed, and I turn into the Bobblehead from Pleasanton. It's really not nice- it hurts when my head goes bashing into the back wooden trim of the sofa, or I drop what I'm holding, or I SNORE really loudly. All so we can go to bed at the same time.

If he gets up and comes to bed when I go, then his five hours of sleep runs out about 3:00 am and he is awake the rest of the night. Makes for a long day of keeping the criminal element in check.

But I want us to go to bed TOGETHER! It's really important to me, even after all these years.

I'm open to suggestions.

Teachers are such whiners - I admit it; I am one myself. One day, not so long ago, I was listening to some of us and it sounded like such a bunch of babies. I try not to do it anymore, but it happened the other day...

We've been in school all of 3 weeks; two with kids. Just had a nice, long break from the rigors of last year, and should be refreshed and eager to go with a new group. WRONG !! Everyone was so ready for this Labor Day holiday that you'd think we'd been working months on end with no time off! I mean, I don't like it when people insinuate that "June, July and August" are my reasons for being a teacher (see previous blog), but hey, I do like a long weekend just like the next guy.

So, Andy is home, and we are heading to SA for the most fun place homeowners can imagine - Home Depot!!

So... how long till the next day off ?!?! Enjoy today!

Breakfast with the LaMores...
I've been a LaMore for 30 years. Loved everyday of being a part of a great family, but I do have one issue. Breakfast.

To be a genetic LaMore means your eyes open before dawn and you are ready to be up and eating a full meal breakfast. Doesn't matter if you want to sleep in; breakfast is waiting until everyone is up and seated at the table together.

Now, I don't talk when I first wake up, and I"d rather wait a while until I have to eat, but that will not do. Andy gets me up about 2 hours after they have all been up, waiting to eat. I bumble out in my robe and washed face to see them, seated at the table. I know I have offset their routine, and I feel badly - really. But they are all happy and talkative and express to me how happy they are that I am up. I "smile" and jump in to join Andy on the final preparations for the morning meal. My brain is fuzz, but I attempt to make conversation and to clear my brain. I fell awkward and boring and lazy - it hasn't changed in 30 years, so why do I think today will be any different.
We eat breakfast, I wake up somewhere in the middle of the meal, and as soon as it is over, they leave. Gone. Another meal enjoyed
followed by hugs and kisses. Just when I am ready to talk!

Drive safely, mom and dad; I'll see you in Oct. I love you!

Last night, church was sweet. Every 5th Wed., we cancel our classes and gather into the auditorium for singing and prayer with a few scriptures thrown in.

At the beginning of the service, Ray - our minister - explained that he hoped we would concentrate on more prayer during this particular evening; several things of importance are facing our congregation, and he felt we needed more focus. So, several men came down to the front to lead us between songs. One by one, I watched the men I love leading us in a song or two and then another step forward to pray. Nothing ceremonial; scripted; scheduled. Just men, using their talents and gifts to approach the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

Afterward, it was like no one was in a hurry to leave. As I walked among different clusters of people, there was conversation and playful joking and just being with each other. I felt so lucky to be there, and yet I've had hundreds of those same Wed. nights. I don't know if I was different, or what , but it lifted my spirit to such calmness and peace. Hope I hold on to it for a while - it was the best.

At school today, we discussed the upcoming 5th anniversary of the attack on 9/11. We are a campus of 3rd and 4th graders, and we speculated that more often than not, few of our kids even remember it happening. So, how to honor the innocent killed and their loved ones without upsetting little children unnecessarily? For us adults, the images are burned into our minds forever, but 9 year olds? Well, we will have a moment of silence and briefly recall in carefully chosen words what that day has become to our nation. May God keep those children from having more days like that to remember in their lives.

I've followed my daughter's example by opening up my comments to anyone and not just other bloggers, so please - be nice! This is a new venture for me, and while I enjoy it, it is scary to know anyone can respond.
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Today at school, I sat across from Austin and discussed his latest bout with his diabetes. He's 10. Has been diabetic since he was about 4, so he
really knows no other way to live. Yesterday, his leg kept hurting and he went to the nurse. He checks his own blood, and it was high, so they called mom. Every now and then, he expresses some resentment that he is the only one in his family with this disease, and how it affects his life.
Ten year old boys shouldn't have to deal with things so somber and life-altering. But he does, and in spite of it is a pretty happy, well-adjusted little kid. I don't think I"ll be forgetting him any time soon.

Please, Lord. Keep me from whining.

"Trust and Obey,
For there's no other way
To be happy in Jesus,
Than to trust and obey."


Growing up in the church of Christ in the 60s and 70s, my dad led this song regularly during worship. If I close my eyes and remember, I can hear his voice to this day. He had no training in leading people in song, nor was his voice all that melodious. He led each song as if we were on fast forward, but his pitch was pretty on most of the time.
But singing was a part of my dad as much as working on his beloved cars in the shade of a tree. He whistled when he wasn't singing, and I miss the sound of his voice every day. Be he really isn't the reason for this blog.

Trust and obey. How very simple in concept. Just do it. Don't analyze or rationalize or pontificate. Just trust Him. In everything everyday. His will, not yours; his time, not mine. Trust. We skeptical people think there's always a motive or an excuse not to trust because someone at sometime hurt us or let us down, and so we put up the wall between us and Him. He loves us anyway and just says "Trust me, Amy. I'm in control."

And then, there's obey. Ugh. I want to, just not now. Later, Lord. I will obey Your commands for my life. If it fits into what I want and how I want it, I'll obey you, but only then.

If I could only understand how much easier and better my life would be, if I could just trust and obey. Maybe we need to sing that oldie more often.

My dear friend Jackie always makes me think. She challenges me on an almost daily basis, and I like that a lot. It's way too easy to think what you always think and feel what you always feel. One thing we talk about is time travel. We speculate about where we'd go, and why. I think I'd like to visit the eastern states during the American Revolution to feel what the birth of a new nation would feel like; to believe in something so strongly you'd die for it.

On a more light-hearted note, if YOU could travel in time and go back to one sweet, perfect day - would you? I know exactly when I'd go back to, and I wonder if when I got there, would it feel as perfect as I remember it? Probably not; it didn't feel perfect then, when I was living it the first time, but in my memory, looking back... it was just the most wonderful time. I guess that's the good thing about memories; we get to focus on the blessing of the moment and the less wonderful aspects fade from our recall.

Tonight, Andrew brought home Chinese for dinner; I'd come home "puny" and it was either him cook or stop and get something. Well, my husband is wonderful with helping around the house, but he HATES to cook. We have an empty nest deal: I cook, he cleans. Most days it works to both our advantages unless it's a day like today. He had chicken fried rice and I had sesame chicken. It was nice and hot; flavorful and just the right amount. Couldn't have asked for more. And no dishes to do, either!!

Hope you've had a great day!

I'm so glad I listened to Pat Autry. She is a dear sister in Christ from a town outside Houston where we once lived. When my girls were little bitty, Pat told me one day that she'd begun praying for their future mates when they (her children) were born. Hmmm, I thought, cool idea. Now, I haven't done it everyday for 20 years, but on most occasions, especially in the middle of the night, and mainly when the girls became "dating age", I tried to remember those faceless, nameless young men who would one day want to betrothe himself to one of my girls. I took it very seriously, because I DO believe God answers prayers, and this is a biggie.

Fast-forward a few years. Erin has begun dating, and we almost always really liked the guys, and sometimes I would wonder, "Is it you? Are you the one I prayed for all these years?" Well, we met him in the Spring of Erin's Freshman year at A&M. Gregg. We met him in January, and when we saw them together in April, I told Andy coming home from a visit that he was "him." I could tell. God had set him right down before us, and I was blown away. He could not be more what Erin needs for a truly happy life than if God literally asked me what I thought. He is godly, humble, kind, fun, desires her desires and wants nothing more than to make her life a joy. He came from a loving, God-fearing family that trained him to be a most wonderful man. He is ours as much as he is Erin's, and we love him with all our hearts. He is that prayer answered in full.

One answered; one to go. Thanks, Father.

Andy and I have started watching golf. What a joke that is; neither of us are even golfers in our dreams, but a while ago, I started paying attention to Tiger. I don't watch a whole day's worth; just when Tiger is playing and so Andy comes in and the next thing I know, he's watching, too! We even make comments like we know what's going on; here is what I know- Par, greens, fairway, birdies, eagles and bogeys. Leader board and bunkers, caddies and drivers, putters and irons.

I've even come to recognize a few of the other players; Phil Mickelson who reminds me of David Elks, John Daly, David Duval and Vijay Sing. I know when to gasp and I have been know to shout, "Go to the hole!" after Tiger putts, but that really is about all I know. I told Andy this weekend that I'd like to see Tiger tee off with no clothes on, just so I could see how beautiful his body is - athletically, not sexually. You know, the Emperor's New Clothes kind of stuff. He is one glorious example of God's creative powers. I'm not so sure he bought it; but he didn't laugh.

Now, the season is over until the Spring. Bring on the SPURS!!!

Andy was born old and grumpy. He lost his mother at 4 and had several surgeries as a little boy.When I met him, he never took off his shoes or untucked his shirt. He always looked like he was going somewhere unless he was cleaning something. Which he did a lot - clean stuff. His home in Houston was very "formal" with meals and manners, and I grew up in the total opposite; we never even sat at the table together to eat and NEVER wore shoes, much less in the house. Most pictures of me as a child show me in my panties and nothing else. Nothing was air-conditioned, so the fewer clothes the better. Anyway, back to Andy.

Next month, he turns 52. As we have built our history together, I have watched him relax about things and find more humor and enjoyment in the everyday things of life. I'm sure having the girls paid a big part in it, but I really think what has brought him to this more "laid back" aspect of his life is survival. Yes, he's had to adapt to live with me. He is Mr. Schedule; I am Mrs. Procrastinator. He is form and function and everything in its place; I am "Now where did I put that?" He is black and white; I'm gray. So, it was either adapt to living with me or die of an early ulcer and stroke. I'm really glad he did; he's turning into quite a cute little boy, gray hair and all.

I love him more and more each day.

Tonight, after dinner, my dear husband offered to serve us some yummy German Chocolate cake for desert. It was left over from a luncheon I attended on Monday, but it had been covered and he had had some yesterday. "Sure" I said, so off he went. Then next thing I hear is an unhappy growl and a loud plop in the trashcan. ANTS!! All over the cake. It's been so dry here that they are coming in the house to survive, and they hit the mother-lode. Our cake. German Chocolate.

If they'd only been still for a minute, we'd have never known they were there and been none the wiser. GRRRR !

"Do you remember me?!?" "Miss, do you remember my name?!?" One of the most wonderful aspects of teaching school is the thought that, for one year, I had the chance to make a student want me to remember them. At Meet the Teacher the other night, I was near a co-worker when one of her former students - who now has a child on our campus- came up and asked "the question." It was all over her face; that desire to know that the teacher could recall her name from the hundreds of children she's taught for over 30 years. Some you do; you never forget them for good reasons or bad, yet some slip by in the crowd and just never jell into our consciences. I see them at the drive-through or the movie or in HEB; little ones all grown up now wanting to re-establish that bond that we shared for a while a long time ago. Monday night, one "bad boys" from a couple of years ago quietly walked over and hugged me before anyone saw him. It made my night - I hope it did his, too.

Tonight was "meet the teacher" at my school campus. For many days now, we've been in inservice and faculty meetings, doing all the small things that have to be ready to begin a new year. Today was the day when we were supposed to be left to work in our classrooms, to be ready for parents and kids to come in and in some way prepare the children for the big day tomorrow. As a special ed teacher, I won't get my kids until the second day, and so I have an "extra" day to prepare. The trouble with that idea is that everone else wants you to do stuff with them because they are so pressed for time and know I have more time. So. .. it wasn't that bad, but I'm surely not ready.
Back to "Meet the Teacher." Did you know that there are so many supplies required to do 4th grade that they fill a Large backpack and one or two Wal-Mart bags?! Dad usually has to carry them in, and he looks strained doing it. Ridiculous. The kids are happy to be back, and one or two from the previous years sneak in to visit a former teacher. The parents are all excited to see each other as well; it's fun to watch all the visiting. All in all, not a bad couple of hours to ease the anxiety of a new year, be it kid or mom. I kinda miss having little ones to get ready, but I know that in my future, I'll have grandkids to buy goodies for, and the fun will return.
Wish me luck; the real excitement comes early tomorrow!!

Andy's watching "Robots"; I'm blogging. Another peaceful, Saturday morning in our home. Hope it continues that way!

Our hope is that all is well with you today also.

Another terror plot foiled today and lives saved. That's good to know, but I kind of miss the old Cold War of my youth. Back then, we'd meet at the gym and discuss what to do when the siren wailed in our little town. I'd climb under my little wooden school desk and wait for the all clear, and then I'd go back to the playground and go on about my business of being a kid. Like that desk was going to protect me! We'd talk about what foods to store, and how much, and what to do when your neighbors survived the blast but didn't have any cans of chicken noodle soup. Why hadn't they listened to the warnings!! Gladly, back then, I was just a little girl following directions because I was told too. I had no true idea of what THE BOMB would do to me or my loved ones. Unfortunately, now I know exactly what those enemies of America would do to my beloved country and those I love. Oh, to be naive again.

Do you share your name with lots of people? I did not know any other Amys until I was 14. I'll never forget the day; I ws at church camp, and they were calling mail call. I was sitting with my cabin,chatting along and not really listening. Suddenly, I hear "Amy ____." I jump up, all excited to get my mail, and there's another girl taking it from the man who called my name!! She claimed her name was AMY - how dare she?!? Now, I grew up in a small, south Texas town with lots of Debbies and Marys and Johns, but I was the ONLY Amy. Hmph... how could this have happened!? My mom had told me the story of how my name was supposed to be Amy Amelia, but my dad insisted on naming me after my mom, so I became Margaret Amy. But sharing with someone else the name that was so carefully chosen just for me really stuck with me. Now, at my campus alone, there are 5 of us Amys. Almost enough for a club or something. I guess I"ll adjust.
Have a good evening.

Giving things over to God is impossible for me sometimes. When it effects me or people at work or strangers, I'm pretty cool with saying, "I'm giving it up to God to handle." Then, I accept what God decides to do or not do, and I move on. I don't live with "what ifs" or "Why mes" or any of those things I hear other people say. Decision is made, move on. Move on.

However, when circumstances and people effect my husband or my children, I am not so easy to turn that over. I know God is in control, and will do just fine without me or my opinions, but I feel like I have to jump in and help Him.

The last 6 weeks have been some of the most helpless I've felt, and I kept thinking I would be so very happy when things fell into place. Now that they appear to be, though, I find there are still things to deal with, and closure may not be as quick a I'd like. On top of that, my husband has made a decision that breaks my heart, yet I have to support him and continue to keep our life peaceful and restful for him. Inside, I want to hurt people and show them the depth of their actions.

This mom and wife thing is really a hard job sometimes. I need to move on. Pray for me.

There is a commercial on tv right now that shows a couple leaving their family home after selling it. They talk about the memories they have; the history of the home. Last night, Andy and I were going through the small town in which I grew up, and I looked down the street toward my childhood home. There is a "For Sale" sign in the yard - so I made Andy turn and take me by there. It IS for sale - and my mom and dad would roll over in their graves to see the condition of it!! I want to buy it right now and fix it up to the lovely little home that gave my mom and dad (and me) such pride. Never was a penny mortgaged to live there; each room was paid for as it was built. It never looked "added onto" - but it grew as our family did. My brother was born in what eventually was the living room, and the second bath was the last thing to be added; when there were only my parents and younger sister left there. The garage had a dirt floor, when we spent hours playing "doodle bug" in and looking for buried cash when my father died.
I hope whoever buys it will take it and make their own memories; it would really mean a lot to me.

When I was in Elementary School - the 60's in case you are wondering - little girls wore dresses to school every day. No jeans or shorts or long pants, no matter the weather - dresses. (Now days, you see a girl in a dress MAYBE on picture or party days !) Anyway, most of July and August, my mom and I spent time down at Franklin's store in my hometown. The owner knew what type of fabrics my mom liked, and would always have in the newest bolts for us to choose from. We would pull bolt after bolt from the shelves, and stretch them out and hold them up and match button and ric-rac and all those lovely things to just the right pattern. We'd get home with a big pile, and then, I'd pick out which one I wanted her to make first. It was wonderful to watch all those individual items come together to make "the first day of school dress." Usually, it was a plaid of some sort, with short sleeves and a full skirt, topped off by a lovely white collar. I felt like a new doll all crisp and pretty in my dress. Little white socks and new shoes finished me up. It is one of my favorite things about the beginning of school each year - a new dress. So, since I don't sew, I am heading to town, in search of the first day of school outfit. Wish me luck!!

My mother had a lot of really good qualities. She was friendly, artistic, funny, a good writer, and a yummy cook. Her whole life was focused on raising my brother, sister and me to be happy and loving people.
The one thing about her, though, that I fight most, is lashing out at people using mean words. She had a streak about her that came out mostly when people would say or do something to or about us or our dad. And it came out at us when we failed to act the way she thought we should. As far as I can remember, I have only lashed out at my beautiful daughters one time, and I was wrong and I have asked for their forgiveness; even though they do sometimes remind me of it in a teasing sort of way. I did not like who I was during that little episode, and never want to speak to either of them that way again.

However, right now in my life is someone who is ripe for the lashing. I want to unleash every kind thought, every bad word, every mean and hateful thing I can say to this person to "put them in their place." I want to hit and punch and yell, and yet I know I won't do it. I know after receiving those words all my life that they never go away. They play like a scratched cd, over and over in your mind, and no matter how you try to repair the relationship, it is there. So, I will think those thoughts, and maybe even write them down, but I'll hit the delete key rather than send them, because I am not my mother. I will not give in to that most cruel side of her that lives within me years after her death. No matter what this person has done to me, and how much they deserve my anger, I am better than that. I will not give in.

Well - it's July 31st, and summer's done for me. Tomorrow, I begin 3 mornings of inservice to "comp" out days off in the school year. While I really dislike going, I forget the misery of it when those days off come along. Teaching does have it's perks....
I went down the school supply aisle today; I love the smell and sight of all those new colors, binders, and folders. Lunch boxes without peanut butter in the cracks and pencils with the eraser still on. Everyone is looking for that special something that they just have to have, and the anticipation of a new year fills the air.
But the best part of today happened at the vegetable section. I saw Joe. Joe was my student about 6 years ago, and I have his picture framed with a note he sent me after he moved on to another campus. I worked harder with Joe than any other student I've every had, and he left me still unable to read any better than when I got him. His eyes haunt me when I recall him stuggling to read, and wanting so badly to fall through the floor rather than sound out one more one-syllable word. But rather than resent me, he came to love me and me to love him. Now, he drives and has facial hair and today when our eyes met, he was still a 4th grader. He came over and we caught up on his summer and life, and then it was time to move on. He shyly looked up at me and whispered, "Can I have a hug?"
"Of course", I somehow said without choking on my words, and there in the middle of HEB, stood teacher and child in each other's arms. How I wish I had another chance to spend everyday with Joe in my class again - but in some way, I guess I do. He's the reason I continue to make the decision every day to go and try to touch the lives given me.
I hope he has a good year.

There is nothing more wonderful than having people tell you they love and appreciate your husband. Mine is a wonderful guy, and I've known it for a while, but today, after worship, a dear sister in Christ came up and told me how special he is to her and her family.
Now, my husband serves in a position of leadership at church, and it often puts him on the oposite side of popular, and the hours and long and touchy, but he does it because he has been asked to. He loves the people of our church family, but just like a regular family, you forget and take each other for granted. Right now that's happening a lot. So today, when our sister said that to me, I truly appreciated it. Someone noticed and let us know. Thanks, sister - it'll keep us going for a while. :)

Last night, Andy and I watched a documentary on the career of Walter Cronkite. We just sort of stumbled onto it, and stuck; as we watched, it was as if our whole lives were being replayed - even though we were young children through most of it, we recalled where we were and how we felt through all of the major events of the 60s, 70s, and even into the 80s. I recalled being afraid even down here in Texas, that the civil rights battles and Vietnam were going to take our country into another Civil War. I don't know how far off base those feelings truly were, but to my inexperienced mind, it was scary. TV was just coming into play as the news medium that it is now, and our daily lives were bombarded with images of war and police riots and political evils. It was a time for everyone to have strong opinions about issues and have a venue to share them with. And Uncle Waltie was right there, guiding us through it all with his calm voice and horned-rim glasses. Although I don't miss the violence of those days, I do miss the simplicity of
the time that still remained for most of us. I'm afraid that simplicity is gone forever.

"...June, July, and August." You know the beginning: "What are the best things about being a teacher?..." Well, August is pretty much out of the mix these days, with school starting for teachers literally the 1st. It's not solid days then, oh no - they fool you into thinking you still have two weeks off, but everyone who is a teacher or lives with one knows that when that calendar turns over, or even before, school has re-entered the thought processes and schedules.
Actually, the new beginning of a school year is one of my favorite things about my profession. Andy's job bleeds year into year, and so do most careers, but teaching is unique in that it has a definite beginning and a definite end. The bell rings in May, and that year - good or bad - is gone. Those kids you loved are passed on to someone new; as are the stinkers you wanted to push out the door! It may be the same classroom, the same staff nearby, the same job description, but it is new. I love that, because it keeps the year sane.
I don't have a favorite year; my years with Billie as my principal are among my happiest, but I do have a worst. And no matter how bad a year becomes, I doubt one will ever surpass that one. Thank God.
My paycheck came in the mail today with my "Back to School" information, so- here it comes. I guess I"m ready; I'd better be!

Okay - I am a Tiger Woods groupie. I know next to nothing about golf, except what I have learned from watching Tiger.I started watching out of curiousity about him - his life and amazing talent. Now, I have a new interest in Phil and Sergio and others who hang with Tiger. But my main interest is in him; he is a beautiful man to watch, and even when he shows his vulnerability he is worth giving up an afternoon for. I think I truly would turn to mush at the thought of meeting him; and I"m sure that's going to happen in my lifetime. So, I make my nest on the couch and act like I know what's going on - I guess he's my 50s crush. Could be worse, I guess!

One of the things we did in Colorado was to go to a Putt-Putt place in the evening. I was green inside and out with my bug, but wanted to capture every moment in my mind's eye; so I went and sat while my family golfed. Fun.
As I always do, I began to speculate as I watched them all having fun and being so very suave. I looked at them and saw them as if I weren't there at all; you know - gone. Away. Dearly departed and eternally at rest. It was very surreal. I imagined that they would go on just fine without me and continue to live life with some very happy days. On the one hand, it was very sad to imagine myself in that place, but on the other hand, it was oddly comforting to know that they would be okay - have each other to rely on.
Is that being 51 and menopausal, or tired and sick, or just weird?!

Archie Waldrum died this week. He was 93 years old, and had just finished a week at Camp Bandina; his session for more than 35 years. He told the group at closing ceremonies that they probably would not see him again; and was in a car accident going home with his beloved wife Delores. A lady at a Wal-Mart hit them - how could she have known what she did?
To us at Camp Bandina during Archie's session, he was a true hero of the faith. I see him in my mind's eye as old then, when my grandmother and hero finally talked my mom into letting me go to camp for the first time. For an amazing $28.00, I spent a week in Heaven - looking at the Hill country, singing songs which made my soul soar, and meeting other people of like mind and faith. Archie was always there, and sometimes in the 80s, they named the pavillion where we ate and worshipped after him. How many lives did he touch during all those years?
The last time I saw Archie, we were in Tulsa, Oklahoma at the Soul Winning Workshop. I tapped his shoulder and then - after he knew who I was, gathered him in my arms as if I saw him everyday. Although I never saw him again, just knowing he was still going to that hilltop every July kept things "right."
Now, he is gone - probably having a blast reaquainting himself with those gone before him, including my dear grandmother.
Hug her for me, please Archie. Tell her I'm coming - and I'm bringing my family with me!!

Over 2,600 miles. Our car is tired, as are we, but what a trip! 15 years ago, when we viewed Estes Park for the first time, I said we had the perfect trip. Well, this one wasn't perfect, but it was close. Salida, Colorado is a charming, back-in-time little place, and we could go live there easily; but that's not an option. We worshipped with about 20 little souls on Sunday night, and we were made to feel very welcome. Our hotel host was from Poland, which I find odd, yet appropriate. Both places we stayed afforded us the sound of babbling waters as we awoke in the mornings, and crisp mountain air to invigorate us. We spend quiet evenings in the cabin, mainly because I shared a nasty little bug with Dana and Gregg - let's just say it hampered our outings a little. But we shopped and ate, and stopped to stare at elk and moose, and came home with wonderful memories. Between the three digital cameras, I imagine we took hundreds of pictures to capture the days, and we'll be enjoying those for years to come.
Now, we're home, and life returns to it's routines. There's always NEXT summer!

Tomorrow morning, I will tell my house "good-bye."
It's a funny little habit I picked up from my mother - she always said good-by to the school on the last day of classes, and to our home whenever we left for a few days. And we were truly always glad it was there to greet us on our return.
So, tomorrow, when Andy and I head out on our vacation, I will wave and say "good-bye."
I'll tell you all about it in a few days. God bless.

Happy Birthday, America! With all your flaws, you are still one amazing idea - a concept borne out of oppression and dreams of a better life. Long may you live....
Do you have a favorite John Philip Sousa march? I'm sure you might know Stars and Stripes Forever, but one of my favorite ones is Washington Post. I wish I had known John Philip - his patriotism survives long after him. My brother and I used to march through the house to his music, and I can still name most of his marches within the first few notes. Not exactly Mensa quality stuff, but I'm proud. This holiday, when the fireworks are flying around you, think about what you are leaving as your legacy for future bloggers to ponder.

If I were a criminal, and knew I would not get caught, I'd be a counterfeiter. I'd spend my days just running off lots and lots of bills; big and little ones. I'd scrunch them up and rub stuff on them to make them look old and used, and then, I'd go for it. I'd travel the world over - except for Asia - then, I'd start giving it away to people and foundations - like camps for kids and homes for families. I'd be a good criminal. I'd give Dana and Erin and Gregg enough so as not to look suspicious, and then I'd put Andy on the shuttle for the ride of his life. When he got home, I'd send him to baseball training camp with the Houston Astros. For me, I'd build houses all over the place, one of every style -except contemporary - and then I'd spend time in them. I'd have to figure out how to do all this while looking like I'm still living on a teacher's salary - yeah, right!
Any ideas about how to get started?!?

God bless Andy. He pointed out to me that June has 30 days; no wonder I felt like it was going fast - I left off a day!! I tell you, when school is out, I do not know the date.

The other day, I told my daughter that nothing makes me madder than for someone to treat me like I am stupid. I know, obviously from the last post, I make mistakes, but don't assume that I am dumb by any nature. I hate stupid questions and to be told what I feel or think about something. Please; give me some credit. It really sounds like I'm ranting and raving about this, but at 51, I've decided to speak my mind. I've sat meekly by too long and not said what I thought or felt about a lot of things, and now - well - be prepared. I'll try to be nice and still be a lady, but no more biting my tongue about things that affect me or my family or my God.

There - I feel much better! Have a nice day....

In about 10 minutes, it will be July. Half of summer will be officially over, and I don't have just a whole lot to show for being out of school for a month. It took probably 3 of the weeks to reach the point where I would wake up feeling rested and like I'd slept enough. People who don't teach don't get how exhausting the end of school is -

Rain is predicted for the weekend. Really - again? We were teased last week with the same rumors, so I've quit listening. I'll believe it when I see it falling from the sky. Then, I may go stand in it.

There is nothing worse that knowing someone you love is going through pain and not being able to do anything about it. All you can do is love that person and hope that things work out quickly and as painlessly as possible. I guess that's why we need Heaven.

Today is a wonderful day! I'm going to pick up a friend in a bit, and we are going to spend the afternoon doing one of my very favorite things - looking at a house!! Anyone who knows me knows that I am obsessed (well, almost!) with houses. Big, little, old, new, you name it. When my peers were reading 17 and Teen Beat magazines, I was nose-deep into 1001 House Plans. I can walk on a slab and tell you the layout - I tell you, it's a gift! Anyway, I'm a happy woman; an afternoon with a good friend and new construction! I may even splurge and have a Coke!!

When we met, Andy was a lifeguard for the university pools. He was tanned, with shoulder-length curly hair, bleached lightly from the sun and pool chemicals. I confess, his beautiful hair was one of the things that attracted me to him; I had long, straight, mousy brown hair that hung straight, and while that was the fashion at the time, mine was not all that pretty.
When he went to work for the prison system, all that beautiful hair fell to the barber's floor - a safety precaution so I was told. I cried, but in time got used to it.
Over the years, the curls fell straight, and the thickness just fell. Little by little, the color changed darker, and then began to be interspersed with a little gray here and there.
These days, the length is about 1/4 of an inch all over, with the top mostly gone. When the sun shines on his head, it reflects off the gray, and it almost appears he has a halo.
It makes me smile.

If I have a fantasy, I think it would be to sing on a stage and have thousands and thousands of people hear me. I'm a great fan of Paul Simon, and when we saw him a few years ago, I thought he had to have one of the top 10 jobs in life - to move people to their feet and have them sing the songs along with you.
Not long after that, I was asked to sing with a couple of co-teachers on the intercom during morning announcements. We were in a small little room, just the 3 of us, and when the song began, and I heard them (both more experienced at singing before others), I froze. It was horrible. That is when my fantasy came into perspective. They haven't asked me to join them again... I'll stick to congregational singing, thank you.

Working on final plans for our trip - 3 weeks away! Usually, by now, everything is planned, reserved, paid for, packed, etc. For some reason, this one is not so hectic - perhaps because, for once, not every penny is having to be accounted for. Our first time to Estes Park was idyllic - almost a storybook vacation. The girls were wonderful, weather cooperated, and even though I thought I'd seen "mountains" in the Texas Hill country, the sight of the Rockies took my breath away. My personal favorite among God's wonders in nature. I hope to be that breathless again -

Andy's Father's Day was an odd day. Church as usual, then out to eat with a young couple we're getting to know. Told him that I've gone in with Dana on his gift - I didn't forget him - and that was fine with him. Wait till he gets it!! :) Anyway, after lunch, we ended up at the cemetary where my parents are buried. Dad has been gone an amazing 16 years, and Mom coming on 5 years.

What do you do at a cemetery? We just stood there a bit, reflecting on time passing and where we "want" to be buried when our time comes. Then, silence. Andy noted that no matter where a cemetery is, it is quiet. The nature of the beast, I guess - most people go there for comfort and peace. Anyway, we came on home and he talked to our daughters and his dad. All the bases covered - till next year. We are blessed to have our girls. I am blessed to have him as a parent in parenting.
Thanks, Andy, for 26 years in this partnership.

Between my being out of town for a couple of days and computer glitches, I've not posted in a few days. It was fun to get away for a couple of nights, and not having to cook or be responsible for anything but myself.
It's three weeks until our vacation to the mountains. I love mountains - they invigorate me and stir my soul like nothing else. Andy picked the mountains to celebrate our 30 years of marriage, and even though it's not the trip we originally planned, I'm truly looking forward to it. Being alone with Andy and having him relaxed will be the best. Being a grown-up with all it's responsibilities can wear you down, and he's really needing a break. Our married daughter and her sweet husband will be with us some of the time. Gravy for the roast, having them there.
See 'ya-

If I could, I'd take time and pull it all together where I could have all my best friends in one place, together, where I could feast on their wisdom and humor and spiritual knowledge. There'd be Cathy, Dianne, Shanon, Mary Beth,
Jackie,Roxanna and more that elude my mind right now. We'd laugh, sing, study, ponder and love each other, and though they don't know each other, I know they would get along, because they are all amazing women. They all come from different parts of my life, and have seen me at my best and worst, and yet they love me. And I love them.

My sister called last night. She lives far away, and I haven't spoken to her in over 2 years. I've tried email, and old addresses from time to time, but she's had a bit of a normadic lifestyle for many years, and so I wasn't surprised that I couldn't reach her.
She's been ill; her words were that she'd "flat-lined" a couple of times over the past year. She's married and sound good. We've both lost touch with our older brother in Florida as well, so it's not just us. We lost our mother, who was the glue holding our lives together, and so we'll all moved on. She (mom) would be sad; she taught us that family always comes first. It's just that we all three have different families.
I'm glad she called. I"ll keep her number off caller-i.d.

One of my pet peeves is parents who are creative with the spelling of their children's names. As a teacher, I often wonder if they are being "creative" or if they are just terrible spellers. One year, as I scanned the class lists of our school, I saw Ariel (Little Mermaid years) spelled at least a dozen different ways. Now surely all those parents weren't just being cute.

Names are personal. That may sound like a contradiction to the previous paragraph, but you should be able to read a name and know what it is, or upon hearing it spoken, not have to ask how to spell it. The reason I'm on this rant is that I sang at a funeral for a woman today whose name was pronounced "Delia", but was spelled as if the person filling out the birth certificate had a seizure while writing it. Her own son said he'd spent his life spelling it out for people.

When we named our girls, we went short and sweet. I'm hoping they keep that in mind someday, when they're naming my grandchildren!!

I love maps. Had a friend who had them hanging all over her house, and it was so fun just to walk from room to room and see them. Maps mean adventure, travel, dreams. They lead you to places never seen before and away from the mundane everyday life that we seek to escape.

I have a new atlas. I love looking at all the places I want to go and remind myself of places I've been. The former greatly outweighs the later, but I'm still young. In fact, Andy and I will be taking a trip in just about a month. Our younger daughter and her husband will be joining us about half-way through, and I'm looking forward to that. They take each day as a gift to be opened and enjoyed, and it's fun to be part of that enthusiasm. We've all had fun looking at the map.

June, July & August - HA! Let me correct this misnomer - there IS no August vacation for teachers anymore, and June is soon going to be gone. One of the perks of teaching is the summer break, but I have always resented the fact that people assumed that was why I am a teacher. Sure, I choose not to teach summer school; I have in the past, but found for my sanity I need not to. Teaching is a wonderful profession - I look back on 25 yrs. of touching children and making an imprint on their lives, but Sept. to May is enough. Actually, with the TAKS test now, by early March, the kids AND teachers are done. Brain-fried. Finished. Stick a fork in it. Our hours are so intense now with testing, counseling, mothering, guarding, and nursing that when the time comes for summer, I want nothing else to do, thank you. No days filled with "accomplishments" - just let my brain veg out and leave me alone. "What did you do today?" makes me want to scream. Nothing. My mind relaxed and I rested my weary self. I don't want to plan out my days and be on a schedule. Until about Aug. 1. Then, I'll be ready to go back and start all over again. New kids, new calendar, new challenges. That's what I love about teaching.
Now, what movie do I want to watch today?!? :)

My dear husband is in the kitchen finishing up the mashed potatoes. He doesn't know I hear him, but I do. We have a "deal" after 30 years of marriage - I cook dinner, he does the dishes. I really like it, except that now I need someone to do the cooking. This stage of my life - my 50s - plays with my mind and my hormones, and now I am tired of cooking and sweating, which both come with the stage. I'd like to eat out every night, but in a small town like ours, there's just not a lot of options. I hear we're getting a Chili's....

Houston - we survived a whirlwind trip over and back to celebrate my nephew's graduation from High School this past weekend. He is a good guy in a world of piercings, tatoos and saggy britches. Everyone who attended the bar-b-que would tell you that he is gracious, mannered and funny, not to mention a hard worker. I hope everyone knows someone like Kyle; it restores your faith in teenagers to spend time with him. He will have a wonderful life thanks to a family that kept him grounded and optimistic about his future. He's a lucky guy, and we are so glad he's "one of us." Love you, buddy.

I love my daughters. I know, every mom says that, but none with as much gratitude as me. My own mother loved me as much as she could, but I don't think she really wanted to. I was a girl, and she made it very clear that boys were the chosen children. When I came along, many years after my brother, she felt this love for me that all mothers do, but it just didn't make sense to her. I was "wrong", and it took all my life to convince herself that it was okay to love me as a girl. She did everything she could - sewed "cool" clothes, bought me dolls, made a playhouse, gave me lessons, etc. But I was still a girl, and when I didn't act like a boy, she never knew how to act in response. How sad for her. And me.
Then God blessed my life with not ONE daughter, but two. Marvelous little pink things who taught me through their innocence that it's not our sexual identity that makes us worthy but just the very fact that we ARE souls from God, sent down to bless lives and pass on that human emotion of love to others. And they taught me about mothers and daughters in the process. That is why I love my girls.
Thanks, my lovelies.

24! I finally got around to watching the season finale today, and my blood pressure is almost back to normal! The worst part was when the screen announced the next season begins January 2007!! Can I wait that long to find out what fate comes to Jack!! At least we know what happened to that nasty President Logan! Man -
I love that show!!