Weekend tales

This weekend was perfect. I don't use the word perfect very often because I don't think very many things are perfect, but this weekend could not have imaginatively been improved in any way, I call that perfect.

As Patrick mentioned in his blog, our rabbit was really almost dead. I didn't know how much I liked it, but after seeing it so sick I felt bad for it and decided that I really like it. We're going to give it a name now because it's suddenly more than the cheap pet store rabbit that if it dies oh well, we'll just get another one. We have had to feed it alphalpha pellets soaked in water blended with baby food vegtables and gatorade. It eats through a turkey baster. I have no idea when I became so animal friendly and sympathetic to little furry things, but I'm glad I'm doing my part to help it recover.
We found mountains on Saturday. This is a weird statement, but we didn't really know we were so close to the mountains. We were looking for a feed store (to get some alphalpha hay for dinner) and suddenly we were looking at the base of a mountain. I hope we can go camping sometime soon. Do any of you like to camp? It's one of my favorite things to do.
I bought the newly released version of Sense and Sensability by BBC. It's 3 hours long and much better than the over dramatized version that is much more popular. It's a similar likeness to the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice that was cheaply and improperly remade with Kiera Knightly as the heroine. Please, if you are going to watch Jane Austen, do her novels justice by watching the BBC versions. They seem to actually care about ethics instead of just money and cheap romatic flutters.
Yesterday Patrick and I went to California Adventure for the afternoon. I was a bench sitter. Yes, I sit while he rides. It's actually not so bad because everyone I see is happy. It is like a weird world where married and dating people are extremely affectionate and mothers with their daughters walk hand in hand looking ever so much alike. Adult children push their parents in wheel chairs while the grandchildren hold the little kids in their laps. People don't care that they have bright pink or black ears on their heads, and men wear hiking backpacks full of fishy crackers and juice packs. I used to go on the roller coasters with patrick, but last time I went I had to clench my teeth to prevent spewing (not fun). I did get to watch the muppets in 3D and I saw my first ever temper tantrum in which the child attempted growling at the top of her lungs to get her way. She tried screaming, yelling, crying, and after 20 minutes (seriously 20 minutes of constant screaming) she growled like a mad dog and pretended to lash out. I was, umm, perplexed. Where was such behavior modeled to a 4 year old? Television? Parents? Hopefully not pets!
We went into Disneyland on our way home in search of frozen minutemaid lemon cups, but we decided those didn't sound good after all and neither did any of the rides, so we went home.
I don't think I ever wrote about an awesome trick we learned about parking at Disneyland. We have a free pass for the Mickey and Friends parking structure (where the tram comes and goes). About two weeks ago Paul called me and said, "Hey, guess where I am." "Where?" "In line for Space Mountain. You and Patrick should come." So, we went to see Paul after Patrick got off of work. At the attendant booth Patrick had a heavy foot and revved the engine. "Are you trying to rush me?" The attendant gave us a suspicious look. "No sir, I'm just anxious to see my brother in law at Disneyland." "Well in that case, here's a free pass for a parking space as close as you can get!"
It was great. Here are some pics from that day.




I had a hard working day today. I worked from 6:30-7:30. PM-PM. 1 measly hour. But, I made a difference in one life for that hour (I love to make myself feel good with cliches).

An edit to the previous post:

My dad plays the piano and tried to teach me when I was about 6 or 7. My progress was SLOW. I was finally placed in real piano lessons when I was in 6th,7th, and 8th grade because my piano lesson with my dad would always end in tears and frustration and usually my stubbornness would flare and I would fold my arms, pout, and refuse to talk or play. Sometimes I exaggerated my confusion and would make stupid mistakes on purpose because I didn't want to learn.
I think learning to play the piano is so boring. I didn't want to learn to read music to play mary had a little lamb or hupty dumpty. I wanted to play stuff like that (below) to learn Mozart and Bethoven, music that sounded real and good, but I would look at a sheet of music and try a few lines (obviously if I couldn't even play Mary Had a Little Lamb then I could not even begin to think Mozart). My piano career ended when I refused to walk into my piano teacher's house in 8th grade and my parents finally allowed me to stop. I know how to read music and play now, but I still don't like it.
This little girl is lucky. She gets to play the music I always wanted to, but was never good enough to play. I don't think I'll ever be able to because I'm still stuck at show tunes and Disney theme songs.

I'm not sure who to be mad at...

My piano teacher

My parents

My own natural ability

I'd like to share our previous three dinners Sunday night, Monday night, and tonight.







It's just a glimpse into my kitchen since I know a lot of you read the Pioneer Woman blog. I like to cook new things that are fresh and light and not always balanced. I get my recipes from Williams-Sonoma and some from allrecipes.

I had my mom perm my hair last week

...and this is what it looked like today after I styled it.



I guess when God said let Noël have straight hair, the keratinized proteins obeyed (and I guess they continue to).

My rabbit has been so clingy lately. The nice thing about rodents (I thought) is that they don't usually like a lot of attention, but this rabbit is so confused. It jolts from its cage when I open it and stops straight at my feet, then paws up my leg to try to get me to pick it up. If I don't, it roosts by my feet. Weird little thing. I accidentally kicked it across the floor once (gently) because it hopped around following my feet while I was moving around the kitchen!




Finally, to share some of my conventionality of late, I was getting ready to give some clothes to Goodwill that I didn't wear anymore, but instead I altered them with my sewing machine for some summery beach shirts. I'm still working on more but I've only had one afternoon so far to work.

The too big red dress becomes an 80's-ish shirt that I think is cute


I don't have a before picture, but it was a big tunic. I sewed cap sleeves and pleated the front.



Thanks for reading!

Oh my goodness! I wish there was a word in our language to describe one thing after another, after another, after another, until all you can do is smile and eat ice cream (That is what I'm doing right now).
I just created a new word from Latin roots facmorneurgratous fac-mor-neur-grat-ous, to make crazy nerves joyful. There, I at least feel better being able to name what I'm experiencing!

I just came back from the dentist. My sickness in the past few years has caused the enamel to erode from my teeth and now I have two shallow cavities which, the dentist wanted $400.00 to fix! Please tell me why it costs that much to scrape a little decayed surface enamel and fill it with chemically "safe" plaster.
I shouldn't complain because my aunt works for a dentist in Fresno who has willingly agreed to do the work for free (thank you God for that blessing), but it seems so silly that two people with respectable jobs (at a school district and an aerospace company) would not receive any insurance benefits. My frustration continues...

I work for Laguna Beach Unified School District as a writing consultant. I also tutor privately. The aunt of a student that I tutor offered yesterday evening to forward my resume to her friend, the editor-in-chief of Riviera Magazine. Of course I was extremely excited to have an "in" to the publishing industry until I researched the magazine. Riviera Magazine is THE whose who of Orange County. The magazine publishes about the hottest clubs, nightlife, socialites, and chic fashion. Yes, please go ahead and laugh. If you know anything about me you would fall out of your chair thinking that I might consider editing for this publication. What in the world?!?!

I had visions of a cottage in Oregon overlooking a field or flower garden or a trickling brook where I could drink tea, write and edit manuscripts. I would make friends with simple people and live as a minimalist, giving away extra money. How is it that my opportunities are the exact opposite of this dream? I draw the line at reviewing night clubs and fashion models.

If that isn't enough, I haven't spent unnecessary money in the past several months. Food, rent, hygene, gas, savings, and cleaning products are our "splurges". We love our life, getting creative with outings, cooking masterpieces in our own kitchen, making a trip to Starbucks a novelty, and appreciating simplicity. There is not another thing I would buy if I had more money, but what gets me is that we live sacrificially for ourselves. Not to give money away, not to save for a home or an unknown something, but just to get by. That's sad when we really don't even have a reason to be here in the first place (except for a lease and Patrick's job which is not his life goal).

Beaches are beautiful. Living near the beach I conclude, is a status symbol. Long gone are the beach bungalo's and Moon Doggie surfers.
(Insert a deep breath).
I love the beach and I will cry the day we move from here (most likely), but at the moment I'm realizing that the life we're trying to live here is so radical it's like a salmon swimming up a 50 ft. waterfall.
*If however, you think that you would like to live here...Patrick and I can do it comfortably (meaning that we can buy as many groceries as we want and go out to eat once a week. Sorry, no new clothes or cars though) on his $45,000 salary. If you have a second income, it would be easy. I only say this because I've heard over and over that it's too expensive to live here and we realize that a family can live anywhere if you make the proper sacrifices.

Blogs are great for people who have cute kids (or a pet that they consider equally as important as a child), are pregnant, watch tv shows consistently, like to cook, and who travel. I don't belong in any of these categories and blogging has kind of fallen on my priority list.
Sometimes I have a good story or two from work, but I'd rather not write something in a sarcastic commentary and be miss-interpreted.
I would love to write my thoughts on things that matter like politics and education and philosophy and religion, but I think I'll start another blog for that, make it private, and invite only myself.
I have though, done some stupid things, and stupid things are always good to post on blogs because then people can laugh at you and they won't equate your actions with your character. (That sounds like a Dostoyevsky-esque thought. Any Crime and Punishment fans out there?)

1. I was making rice. Plain, white, simple, rice. I decided to rinse it as I learned in China, 3 times before you boil it. I put it in a strainer/collander to rinse and it seemed to have decreased in volume. I must have lost a few grains in the process, I thought...
It showed up an hour later when I tried to unclogg my sink and the entire sink shook, then the disposal switch shocked me. Water and rice poured out from under the sink and spewed EVERYWHERE!!! I learned a lesson that day, that rice grains are smaller than the holes in a strainer. [That last sentence is satire.]




2. I'm sitting with a heating pad on my back right now and I have no idea why! For some strange reason my back is tweaked and I can hardly move. At work I get bored sitting, so I prop my feet up on the PC box (I think it's actually called a desktop or tower). It makes a nice footstool while I twist and lean in to work at my desk. When that gets uncomfortable I draw both of my feet up and perch on the swivel chair craining my neck to see over my knees. The most comfortable position though, is one knee up, the other twisted in front of me on the "footstool" and one arm writing at my desk while I have my body and neck strained to look at the computer. Oh, right, tangent. I was mentioning my sore back. Does anyone else have sudden onset backaches?

3. I received my letter of rejection "Thank you for your interest, but we regret to inform you...." I'll continue the job search, but Apple was not encouraging at all! I'm still looking for corporate presidencies, apparently Steve Jobs hasn't resigned yet and they don't consider Hollister appropriate experience! Whatever! I even wore a black turtleneck when I submitted my application, in person, typed.

This could have been me


What is my point?

what is the definition of saga?

A Saga is traditionally an Icelandic or norse legend of adventure telling of a specific tale or family. In the more modern use it can refer to a long narration or prepetuous tale usually negative in connotation.
I guess then it would be appropriate to refer to my life as a saga, minus the emphasis on the negative, because while it is difficult I read today that "reality is like a fine wine. It doesn't appeal to children."
Is this true? Is reality to be savored only by those refined enough to drink slowly with a calm and enduring pallet? Who knows, but I do know some things starting with this:
I am a woman and a professional, and extremely capable of any full time management position that someone would have the sense to gve me (whew, there. I got it off of my back and out into the open, kind of like a declaration).
I HATE this job seeking process. Not because employers are rude, unfair, or they bruise my ego, but every time I put on my business suit, bring my purse/briefcase loaded with extra resumes, walk into an interview confidently and smiling and answer grilling questions with all the finess of one who has studied the craft of language, I hear one thing.
"You sound like you would be great for the position, but looking at your resume your experience doesn't align with your answers. Your longest job was for two years while you were in high school, and why did you apply to Hollister and then quit two weeks later?"
It is at this point that I realize A) I don't even want the stupid job, I just want a title that isn't peon, and I want a paycheck. B) I am going to have to defend the fact that I really really want this job and that despite my lack of resume support, they should hire me. Usually it registers in my mind tat I am convincing myself as much as them. They see right through it.
I begin, but how do I phrase this (politely):
"I understand that this is not typical of an interviewee and in fact I am possibly breaking every suggested interview 101 rule, but I am 21 years old. I was a high school senior 3 years ago right now working at the longest job that I have held. I had a 4.2 GPA and practically worked full time. I moved on to college to graduate in 2 years with my B.A. requiring that I take 18-25 units per semester/quarter and in the mean time I squeased in jobs to pay for my education, rent, and other expenses. During the summer of 2006 I had a school loan to pay back and 18 hours of summer school classes so flexibility in jobs was essential. I took the first thing that came, Hollister and quit because the company chooses employes that care more about themselves than the customer, but that shows nothing about my high regard for customer service and everything about my unreliability. Oh, and I had just turned 19. I have been married for a year and lived out of the country every time someone said to reach for the stars I took them literally. I have entirely too much drive, too much passion, and give 100% more than any normal person can understand, recognize, or make sense of. Perhaps this helps you understand the lack of support in my resume, but please don't ask me to give an example of teamwork in a work environment and snub your nose when I mention substitute teaching, or the grocery store because I was scrubbing fuzzy, goopy mold from floor drains in the freezer section voluntarily for something to keep me busy, and sitting with the kid that couldn't make sense of 15x5 until the light bulb went on while the actual teachers and store management sat comfortably awaiting pay day."

(suppose I wanted to send this just to see what would happen)
Dear landlord,
I would like to get a rabbit. They're quiet, gentle animals and make wonderful pets. I can promise that you will hardly even notice that they have been living here. I'm trying to decide on a breed. If you scroll down you will see that I have included pictures, perhaps you have a preference.
























These rabbits are seriously freaks of nature.

Today I walked into a grocery store to buy four things.
A produce dpeartment employee kept looking at me and laughing --one of those "I can't believe it" laughs.
When I arrived at the checkout with my celery, carrots, broccoli, and barley he was the checker. He laughed, " You know how to cook all by yourself?"
I was confused, "Yes."
"How old are you little girl?"
"21."
He looked stunned.

Last Monday I went to bed disheartened because I really really want to stop substitute teaching and either have a job or go to graduate school. On Tuesday I got called twice and was suddenly in the second stages of two job interviews and having to decide the direction of my life in the next few days. Why does this happen?
One job is at Biola, a christian college that I went to as a Freshman and the other is at Laguna Beach high school. For months since returning from China I've been trying to decided which direction my life is supposed to go and now I have only a few days to decide. I can either go to grad school and become a writing lab instructional aid with a very meager salary, no benefits, and high schoolers, or I can be the "Manager of Alumni Events and Volunteer Community" for Biola and save for grad school. I was struggling: full-time management position with benefits or further education and sharing my passion for writing with the most affluent students that I have ever encountered.
A very long story and process later I was delighted to receive the home phone numbers and personal emails of the hiring committee at Laguna Beach high school. I am to contact them (at my convenience) and let them know when I can work as a writing consultant for their honors and AP students. It was completely divine intervention because I can work with the students online, during a Saturday lab, night hours, etc. I get to choose when and through what medium I can work. I had such a passion for this job but the salary and benefits were a drawback. God worked those small details out and now I can happily go to my second interview at Biola on Wednesday and hope that working there full time is also a part of His plan.
Now --for the important feedback
I have been advised by some family members to buy a skirt suit set. I know that any print or online "interview attire for dummies" manual would agree with them. However, I do not think this is a good idea, but please read my reasons and let me know your opinion. I am always open minded.
The reason that I do not want to buy/wear a suit to my interview is mainly on the principal that I am not accurately represented in a suit. Noël is not fussy, stuffy, or in any way a business woman. I see myself as an individual and I prefer to reflect this from the outside just as much as from the inside. I am a female and suits were made for men. They are bulky, stiff, completely sensible, and lack imagination --not that men are this way, but it meets the needs of a man in a business environment. I prefer to be clean cut, classic, feminine, and elegant. The tailored Banana Republic dress shirt that combines a pure pale yellow and white stripe with grey wool slacks and heels is perfect. I believe that appearance is important and am not naive to the truth that a first encounter can never be re-created. However, the interview process is so much more than a first "encounter". I interview potential employers as much as they interview me and I prefer to engage in an investigation, conversation, and introduction. Authenticity is absolutely crucial and I could never put on an appearance that I did not believe in. A secondary matter is that a suit is an investment costing a minimum of $99.00. I hope that I will never need it and I don't buy things with the intention of wearing them once.
I could have silly, suborn notions and ideals that I need to let lie for the purpose of entering the "real world" but if clothes keep me from getting a job then I don't believe in God.

If I had Lucy's mind

Good Afternoon.
I am a little "high" if I can use that word non-offensively on mint m&m's (my jar is now only half full), edamame beans, and I Love Lucy...cleaning products too since I've been touching up on my housework.
My days off seem to be full of interesting combinations of food and activities. The reason is because I don't buy "heat up" food and if there aren't left overs I eat what I see for lunch and when I take a day off from teaching I glut myself on all of the things that I wish I could do when I'm at work. Let's see...I straightened my hair (not something I take the time to do at 5:30 every morning), I organized my whole little house again, watched I Love Lucy, looked at some patterns and made plans for sewing, watered my balcony garden, and opened all of my doors and windows to warm, freshen, and light the inside of my house.
As I worked I came to the conclusion that going to work is a lot more work than working at home. If I were confined to Lucy's era I would drive myself crazy and probably decide to have kids just to give me something to do. I find that I can keep my house very clean, organized, and un-cluttered with just about an hour a day and one really deep clean once a week. No wonder she and Ethel resorted to scheming to keep themselves busy. I wonder what most of you think. Would you prefer to be homemakers 24-7?
After watching the complete 9 seasons almost consecutively I realized that Lucy is classic because she thinks something and does it. Her actions and ideas are so often unchecked that when her house ends up full of chickens or she decides to steal John Wayne's footprints, somehow this isn't unexpected to a real fan of the show. I began wondering what it would take to be this way and what the consequences would be.
Today it would have meant wearing my 1920's dresses out in public and speaking with a British accent, I would have strewn all of Patrick's clean clothes about the house just to make him walk around looking for them. I probably would have dumped glitter in the flower beds since I was thinking it would make them look inhabited by fairies, and I would have expected Patrick to bring me home some flowers or throw a surprise party for me because he was a little late coming home from work. Now, would that make me a more interesting person or more rediculous? I think both. Maybe I'll work on a compromise and see what impulses I have tomorrow that I actually follow through with.

Can someone please be honest with me and tell me where they found him?

January

When I haven't posted for a while I feel anxiety toward my blog and I just feel like clearing everything. I get frustrated visiting blogs that I've seen over and over (I know bloglines would eliminate this happening, but I only check about four every few days.) When I am the one not updating I'm just reminded that I'm frustrating myself and that I don't really have anything to say so I avoid my page between posts. Does anyone else do this?
Anyway, I love January.
I was the kid that hated school. I spent about 1/8 of the start of every elementary school day in tears. January-May were the months that represent the non-crying school mornings. January meant that school was almost over --several school holidays, spring break, and then a bunch of year end activities and field trips.
January is like a clean slate, white, fresh, and a new beginning. I surprise myself that I don't take an interest in New Year's resolutions, but I guess every few days I make resolutions so when January comes it's just part of my "another day another resolution" philosophy.
November and December this year (well last year technically) were like a long hike up hill. So many things were in disarray and uncomfortable. I couldn't wait for January and by golly the past days have been wonderful. For the first Saturday Patrick and I weren't running out to capitalize on some pre or last minute holiday shopping or to take advantage of our new southern california neighborhood. Today we rode our bikes to the doughnut shop, made a grocery list, lingered over books this afternoon, went grocery shopping, made some chili, read books at Starbucks, and relaxed in the spa. Today we lived where we live instead of toured where we live.
Maybe it should just be January all year long.

Spreading sweet truth

If you like ice cream and free things you should sign up for the birthday club at Cold Stone and Baskin Robbins. They will send you coupons on your birthday for free ice cream. At Cold Stone you get a free medium size creation.
I just added Patrick to the birthday club because the nice thing is that he can never eat a whole one by himself :) I now get free ice cream twice a year.



P.S. Red Robbin sends you a coupon for a free hamburger

P.P.S You will need to give your email so they can send you the coupons but I can assure you that they don't send junk- only an email of coupons and specials about once a quarter.

"This wilderness area is characterized by certain inherent dangers. These dangers include mountain lions, rattlesnakes, poison oak, and rugged terrain."

Patrick and I decided to visit a local wilderness park today after church. Sure we'd read the reports. 3 deaths, a few injuries due to Mountain Lions...but certainly they weren't running rampant or the parks would close. Right?
As we drove up to the park, through the ranger station, and into the day parking area we saw multiple large yellow posters stating "You are entering a dangerous area." There were tactics listed for what to do in case you encountered a lion. Gulp. The last reported sighting was September 26, but as we began our ascent into the wilderness I began to wonder what they would classify as a "sighting." I didn't allow myself to ponder that question for too long because the trail became smaller, more vast, and more silent every foot we went.
I'm going to add a spoiler. We don't have a confrontation or even a sighting to report, but as we walked I gathered some pieces of scientific data to examine...I'm sure there were some lions in that great open space of wilderness.
Here are some droppings to look at. Anyone know what cougar droppings might look like? I think they are closer to the ones on the left. If we had lions expelling the size of dropping on the right I think we'd have horse-sized lions on our hands. Big problem!

A. B.

Next I have collected footprints. The fist I believe are from a horse. Well, of course they are, but since this is to be a complete analysis I am going to include them for consideration and observation.



At one point about 3 miles into the hike...the furthest point from anything, we saw the print below. I froze. The eerie silence and rustling dead sage brush made me tingle and freak out. For a couple of miles Patrick and I speculated on the footprint before deciding that the print would have come from an animal that had been de-clawed. Not likely in the wilderness, so we think it was the pattern on the bottom of a mountain biker's shoe.



Next we have a deer print.



Patrick stopped mid sentence. Dead still, dead silent, and grabbed my arm while staring straight ahead. My adrenaline shot up, but all he did was show me the print below. Finally we may have the cougar print. Do you think Cougar prints would be bigger though? What else has padded feet? A coyote?




It was quite the adventure. We sweat and panted, and surged with adrenaline. Look at the scenery that is the real Orange County- before all of the sprinkler systems and flower beds.






We visually depicted an upside down bell curve. Observe Patrick. Excited to begin, miserable-hot-and-sweaty, excited to almost be done. We accidentally hiked 5 miles in our church clothes.



Finally I would like to give attention to my trail climbing shoes. Because we came from church they were all that I had and they did an excellent job!

Christmas is full of traditions. Every year I have had the same stocking, the one my mom made when I was a baby. I have my own box of ornaments- a collection of 21. I am used to a real, scented pine tree, a warm fireplace, and the season is illuminated all around the house with my mom's special decorative touches.
This year I brought my box of ornaments home to my own undecorated, unseasonal, plain house. I waited a few weeks before realizing that tradition and seasonal touches don't just come, they are created. So...I bought a blow-up snow globe from Walmart that plays jingle bells and takes up my entire front balcony. No, I didn't. I bought mint M&M's first.
Patrick wanted us to practice an ancient Vincent tradition that has extremely specific guidelines, rules, and ordinances, a sacred recipe, and design. "Vincent Christmas Cookies." I realized that while I enjoy participating, I am not very good. I find it too tempting to want to make my cookies look good. The globbing and dousing with frosting and sprinkles is a much quicker approach so after an hour I had a meager failed batch while Patrick had an army of Vincent cookies to usher in the season.

This should show you the difference. His best cookie vs. my best cookie.



We also made stockings. What began as .99 store specials turned into original creations and a glitter fest.
Before:


After:


I think that's all we've done besides borrowing a tiny, fake tree from my parents. It's easy for me to give up my Christmas traditions this year because Southern California doesn't kindel the "spirit of Christmas" like foggy crip mornings with a light dusting of frost crystals or a light snow.
Maybe this year the essence of Christmas won't distract from the meaning.

Lucious escaped

I am absolutely certain that this occurs for less that 1% of students, teachers, and substitutes. Perhaps that means I'm lucky.
Lucious walked in, 3.5 ft is very small. In fact, I mistook him for being a lost 4-year-old. He had short curly hair characteristic of most little African American boys, long dark eyelashes, and pink lips pulled into a HUGE smile. I wondered why the teacher had warned me about him.
Lucious had two very close friends. Nico, and Eden. Nico sat a few seats away but had a matching behavior contract to Lucious. They considered themselves to be lucky...only they got to earn stickers throughout the day. Each hour and following every recess, they were rewarded tiny stickers for good and respectful attitudes and behavior. Eden however, sat right beside Lucious. She had purple tinted glasses with rhinestones that she insisted were for poor eyesight, a cheetah print headband also rhinestone studded that pushed back unruly brown hair and a giant, ribboned, hair scrunchie held the rest in place. She wore a baggy sweatshirt, long shorts, and Ugg boots. Her face was always innocent when questioned, but I know she and Lucious schemed.
The remainder of the students in class for the purpose of this story will just be lumped together although many vibrant personalities could be singled out. I will just say that the "class" had a hard time remembering that their teacher's absence did not make them the teachers. "We aren't s'uppost ta pull cards for that." "Evan is drawing a picture of me and the crossing it out." "Teacher, I can show you...you're doing it wrong." This annoys me more than anything.
As I jumped all around the room at math time responding to the ever elevating cry for "Mrs. Vincent," I repeatedly corrected "I don't get it," for "What don't you understand?" Throughout this time I noted that Lucious, one of the brighter kids in my class had finished and was socializing with the entire room one student at a time with more success than a campaigning presidential candidate. He was extracting signatures and as I was poked and tugged on, summonsed, and frustrated trying to explain math to uninterested students I didn't have time to figure out what was going on. I just repeatedly silenced the students with two fingers held high, and warned them that if they didn't keep to themselves everyone would be pulling a card (which is what happened).
Nico (Lucious' side-kick) had a horrible attitude about this and banged his chubby hand on the desk before throwing a wad of paper and grabbing a book from Teia, who started to cry. This began revolt number one. Lucious verbally objected and Nico followed, so did Eden. Then, the entire class of first graders began to whine. I didn't have any intention of yielding, their chirping voices made me threaten them with another card and most of them quieted. Lucious ran up to me and said, "I demand an explanation. I was being good. What was I doing wrong?! Am I still going to get a sticker for my behavior card?"
I hate impertenence. "No." I responded simply.
"But teacher..." he trailed off in a whine and big, little Nico growled at me.
No stickers for them, and it was finally the first recess of the day.
I made Lucious remain for a minute into recess because he had been eating in class after he was told not to and had scattered snack crackers everywhere. He let me know with a smile that I was mean. That was fine with me.

The events that occured next between recess and lunch I enjoyed, mostly because I laughed them off, but they become significant to later events.
Lucious needed to go to the bathroom as soon as they stepped in from recess. I told him no. When he insisted I let him go. (Going to the bathroom is a buddy system in Mrs. Ashley's classroom. Lucious wanted to take Nico.) I let them go. Eden walked up to me slowly.
"I have something very important to tell you Mrs.... Lucious just went to escape."
"What?"
"He was planning it this morning. Or he's going to look for a way to do it at lunch."
"Thanks Eden."
They returned just a short time later. Kids.
Silent reading was anything but silent with Lucious and Nico stirring up the class. I invited Lucious firmly to sit beside me in a "chair that had his name on it." (He actually looked for his name on, behind, and under the chair). As soon as he sat down he whined and then wanted to go get a different book. I ignored him. 2 minutes later he said, "Ummm, I think I'm feeling that I have to go to the bathroom."
I ignored this.
When I judged that he had spent sufficient time looking at the book I allowed him to get another one and gave him just 30 seconds. He dashed to get a new book and then I saw he was using the remainder of his time to talk with Nico.
"Lucious." He didn't respond.
"Lucious." He turned ever so slightly.
"Lucious!"
"Hang on a second! Gosh!" turning back and realizing what he had just said, he slinked over to me. He pulled a card.
Nico stood up. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Sit down Nico, you just went."
"But I have to go really bad." He held himself and started to jump around
"Sit," I pointed to his seat.
"But I'm going to wet my pants."
"Ok."
"I'm wetting them now."
Comment ignored. He sat down.
30 seconds later he waddled up. "I just wet them." His pants were dry.
"You lost your chance to sit back down. Come sit by me."
He forgot about his "accicent"and sat down. Then wiggled more. "I'm going to wet them."
"I thought you just did that. You're going to wet again?!"
He got steaming mad and his chubby face turned pink. "Agh! Lucious she is so mean."
This is the extent of my "mean-ness" before lunch.
The class lined up to go out for lunch and we were halfway down a hall, around the corner, and just in front of the cafeteria when someone announced that Lucious didn't have his shoes on.
"Lucious." He smiled.
"Go put your shoes on." We all had to wait.

I thought I had quite the story to share with Patrick at lunch time...little did I know.

I returned to the playground at 12:25. Hunter ran up to me. "Lucious is escaped and I told him there were security cameras but he still left and I think he's lost and now he's going to be in trouble."
"Where is Lucious?" I asked the class. Everyone was silent. One person said the principal's office. I figured the incident was settled.
The classroom door opened a few minutes later which would be the first of three times. The last time it was the principal. She quieted the class.
"Who knows where Lucious might be?" Everyone raised their hands.
Eden produced a map that he had drown that was labeled "Escape plan."
One girl started to cry. "He wanted us all to go too and we signed the plan but we were all scared."
All of my students had petitioned to "escape" school with Lucious at lunch. I wasn't sure this was looking so good for me, especially in front of the principal.
The next hour was filled with tall tales. One girl drew small pictures which she claimed Lucious had given her to say where he was going. The entire class errupted saying that he was at the pumpkin patch, "No, he told me he was going to the Christmas tree farm." "No, Lucious is going to get some ice cream." It was impossible to keep the fervor and excitement and the name "Lucious" from every small mouth.
Finally the principal came in. "We found Lucious, but he has been expelled. He was hiding across the street in an apartment complex underneath a car. He kept running to new hiding places as we tried to locate him. The police, several school employees, and people at the complex were looking for him." Many questions followed, a lot of tears for the kids who had agreed to escape with him. One boy burst into tears, "Am I going to be expelled too?"
School was over shortly after.
I guess I learned that if a 7 year old draws an escape map complete with dots and a big X, it may be worth inspecting.

Oh my, this is not what I had expected.

A friend, well, a girl that I met in China through a YWAM mission group entered this photo from China into a contest. She discovered recently that she is a finalist, and posted the photo on facebook. I clicked over for my viewing and something ran through me, a shudder, an emotion I guess- that left me feeling almost homesick, longing partially to stand right there again, to witness that very scene which in my mind doesn't seem very odd or strange at all, just Chinese, just happy.

I basically left China thinking "Good riddance!" to all of the trauma, pain, loneliness, and empty times that I experienced, but I never suspected that in time the good would far outweigh the bad and I would be lonely for my life there: Meals with Craig, Marianne, Inez, Becky, and Kathleen on our building roof, my bunny and the always pooping Chinchillas, the over-crowded 208 bus to the grocery store about 45 minutes away, and living side by side with my husband almost 24/7. It was such a special time and I know that it changed me for the better in more ways than I can count.

It makes me wonder if I will ever get to go back? My house has a bit more insulation now, matching paint/tile, furniture, homey touches, no cracks or dust dragons looming. I have a clean, new-ish car, my family is within a two hour drive or a cell phone call away. I understand everyone and just drive two miles for a capable doctor, pharmacist, or hospital. Yet, I don't think my new life indispensable, hopefully it is just a means to a simpler end. Maybe I will get to go back.
I would never have thought that this post would come.