Remember Murphy Brown?

I am on my husband's computer so I can't seem to add any images.


Remember on the show Murphy Brown, the contrator who was a permanent resident because he was always working on a project? Well, that's happened at our house, but here is the good news; our contrator/handyman is delightful and the remodeling although going very s-l-o-w-l-y is worth the wait. The floor is much better than I hoped for. The new doors look gorgeous. A shiny light and fan will brighten my office, and have decided that paint and wallpaper will look much better than the crappy stuff (which I loved at one time, but everyone else hated) has to go. This is all a bit tricky with teaching full time, and my day starts early. I'm at school before 7:00 am. Oh, well, I can sleep .... later.

It's been said that remodeling is as stressful as a divorce, but aside from the appliance death watch, death of an beloved pet ( oh, yes, another a/c unit has been leaking which caused ceiling damage and we could have bought a really high-end washer for it's repair) but who's counting? I think we have done very well and only mild irritation over furniture placement and removal (yea, - way too much firniture before) and major LIGging (see blog below) on my part, have keep kept us sane. After having watched many episodes of HGTV we should realize that everything costs more than estimated. Oh, well, who's counting. (I said that didn't I?)

When I get my own computer back I'll post pictures.

Every School Year is Different, so I LIG.

Every school year is unique because there are millions - literally - of combinations of factors that make so many things different. For example, brutal heat; 113 degrees the first day. One less sixth grade teacher, and larger classes. The entire sixth grade has a personality that is wildly different from last year's group. (Human, for one thing.) These kids are much less worldly. thank goodness.

Add to that being in the midst of major remodeling here at home which means that when I come home there isn't any real relaxation. Why is it that I don't feel the bone draining exhaustion that would normally swallow me up?

I'm glad you asked.

It is because I have finally learned to LIG. That is my new acronym for "Let It Go."

Of all the goals I have worked towards in the past four years LIGging has been one of the most satisfying because it has done the most to get stress under control.

As the Serenity prayer suggest you must let go of things you can't control. I had no idea how little I controlled. I had no idea that giving up that control would have the unknown bonus of giving me energy that was utterly wasted on things out of my control.

Ah, it's good to know I am still trainable.

All Dogs Go To Heaven

Bruno, our eighteen and half year old beagle, died this morning. Only last month he was out dancing in the backyard under the moon. No one told him he was old and deaf and blind and dancing was only for young dogs. It has been a year full of dog deaths. Bruno's sister Mollie died last October. They were both ancient dogs. We loved them, but it was time.

The toughest death was Josephine (JoJo) beagle, who had to be put to sleep on Christmas day. It was just like having someone shove their fist down your throat and then rip your heart out. Josephine was much younger. She had shown no signs of illness. She was sweet beyond sweet and full of love. Jo the peacemaker. My son held her in his arms, like a baby, as she died.

My dear, dear, friend Pat, died On Christmas day, too. The day after that Gail's mom died. The unexpected deaths are something you never get used to. Christmas will never be the same.

Our beagle girls; Freddie, JoJo's sister, and the little girl dogs, Roxanne and Mabel are all that is left of the pack. They are bewildered today. They don't know death, but they do know loss.

Our friend Austin said an amazing thing about dogs, "They stay puppies their whole lives, then they die and break your hearts." How true.

But I have always said our pets are only loaned to us.

I could get everything done if I didn't have to sleep.

We are remodeling, which means moving decades worth of stuff, but so much stuff was thrown out, too. Good riddance. Appliances have made a suicide pact. We bought a lovely new refrigerator. Hooray.

This week has been filled with before school meetings. School starts with the kids on Monday. Tonight we had "Meet and Greet" where the kids and parents come to meet the teacher. All but two of my students showed up. That's a record.

Lots of former students stopped by to say "Hello", which is something that can't be put in a paycheck. Everyone of them said they were still goal-setting. I couldn't be prouder of them.

I am woefully sleep-deprived, but as happy as I can remember. I busy. I'm tired. But I'm not stressed. I wish I could bank this lovely feeling. Oh, I know. I can blog about it.

Ach! Why are people still tanning?

In early 1970’s my husband, his parents and I had gone to dinner at a fashionable restaurant in Scottsdale. We had gone for a stroll after dinner to see some of the galleries. Walking in front of us was an unusual couple. The man, middle aged and ordinary looking. The woman? The most exotic person I had ever seen and dressed like someone straight out of Frederick's of Hollywood. She was very slender and wore what were called “toreador” pants with a matching bolero style jacket, but in a ghastly leopard print. She teetered along on the tallest black patent leather heels I had ever seen. Her hair was bleached and frazzled. Then she turned around and I almost gasped because she was so tanned and wrinkled she made the Marlboro man look pale. It was frightening!

In retrospect, the woman was probably a prostitute. (No, I don’t know that, and yes, that is judgment call.) But the lesson I learned was not to over tan (her profession didn’t occur to me until later), and that was back in the days when we didn’t know how harmful tanning was. I am sad to say that many women my age and younger, here in Arizona, haven’t learned that lesson. Wrinkles have never been fashionable.

Arizona and Florida have the highest rates of skin cancer in the United States. I slathered my kids in sunscreen. I still apply sunscreen everyday. People are now carrying umbrellas as sun protectors. Nearly everyone here knows someone who has had some form of skin cancer, and we have known young people who have died from it. It is an excruciating way to die.

That is why on our recent trip to the Midwest I was astounded to see so many people deeply tanned. We drove though many, many small towns on the back roads of Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois and Missouri and in every little town there were tanning salons, and evidently doing a booming, if not deadly, business.

Admittedly, a tan on a young healty looking person looks good as compared to pasty white skin, but the real thing is a ticking time-bomb.

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Crazy July weather in Arizona.

Temperature on July 3rd, 2007 is 109 IN THE SHADE!!

The weather service said it was about 115.

We consider that HOT.

Do you see this?

72 degrees on a rainy day.

We love this RARE cool down in July.

This only happens after a pouring rainstorm, which leaves everything cool and that spicy, intoxicating smell of the desert.

Comment on another Blog - On Lipsticks

My friend Neva of Let Me Be Blunt …, wrote recently about a friend’s compliment on how terrific she looked (which she does)and attributed it to her lipstick. Neva claims never to leave home without putting on lipstick. I belong to that club, too. It got me to thinking about that luscious stuff. Thanks, Neva! My daughter also blogged about the curative power of lipsticks and how purchasing one is a real spirit lifter. That is so true.

An Ode to Lipstick.

I read once that lipstick gives the face balance. That is true, but I think there is much more to lipstick than that. Lipstick is usually the first make up a girl is allowed to wear. A girl knows she looks pretty when she puts on lipstick. It is a powerful feeling. My six grade girls wear pink lip gloss. I don’t remember the color of my own first lipstick but I remember my sister’s. It was Revlon’s “Powder Pink” and it looked exactly like congealed Pepto-Bismol. It was gross. It looked gross on every girl who wore it. Fads cannot be explained by logic. Powder Pink will probably rise again and be as wildly popular as black nail polish.

In the 1960’s lipstick became so pale that it looked like one wasn’t wearing it at all. Lots of dark eye make up, and false eye lashes. Ah, the raccoon look. I knew one girl who actually wore foundation on her lips instead of lipstick. Not a good look.

My lips aren’t bad. Not big. Not too small. I am not unhappy with my lips. I never would consider the lip injections. Melanie Griffith’s lips now look like those old pictures of Lucille Ball (of “I Love Lucy”) who would paint outside the natural lines of her lips. That held a horrible fascination for me. Who would purposely go after that look? Does Antonio Banderas really want to kiss those lips? Yuck.

My sister has had lipstick issues from the beginning as her lips are small and thin. Actually, her lips are pretty but she has never felt comfortable with lipstick. She claims she eats it off as soon as she puts it on. A few years ago I bought her some lipstick that claimed to be “Industrial Strength”. Okay, they didn’t say that but that was the meaning. I picked out a color that I thought would be flattering, Bonnie insisted it was exactly the same color as angle worms. She was right. She gave the tube back to me but I never actually wore it because of the worm connotation.

Lipstick, unfortunately, likes my teeth. I always brush my teeth after lunch at school, powder my nose and put on fresh lipstick. There is always a student who kindly points out that I have lipstick on my teeth. By the end of the year neither the students nor I am embarrassed by this ritual. At least they tell me, unlike adults.

I have a special love for red lipstick; red that is on the verge of orange. Oh, that is my favorite. One can’t stock up on lipstick as it does go bad. That sounds like a country song, doesn’t it, “When Good Lipstick Goes Bad Then My Dog Runs Away”. I think that could be a hit.

Also, you have to cull lipsticks. Free lipsticks are never a good idea. They are rarely a good color. Also, lipsticks sometimes end up being a different color in the light of day than they are at the point of purchase. Case in point, any purple lipstick is potentially disastrous. Woman buy them because they see doctored pictures of models who look gorgeous and sexy in purple lipstick, but no real human has actually pulled that look off. It has never happened and never will, yet the stores are full of them. The landfill is their resting place. RIP.

Men, you do not understand woman’s relationship with lipstick and don’t even presume that you do. It is primal, and you should respect that.

My husband's luggage

This is EXACTLY the same kind and amount of luggage my husband uses on any trip we take. Of course my husband is much more handsome and very well dressed. However, he has a pathological disorder that makes him absolutely luggage phobic. He would take less if he possible could.

I, however, believe that a large piece of luggage and a carry on are fine. My husband is almost ill over the excess amount of luggage I take.

He has never been stranded in Europe without luggage as I have.

A Gratfying Day - the Blog was Published in the Newspaper

This past Friday two very good things happened. It was my daughter's 30th birthday. Although we could not be with our daughter, her GGF (good, good friend) and GGF's MH (mesmerizing husband) were. Do you wonder why I am the queen of acronyms?

The second thing was that I had an editorial printed in our local paper. The editorial was the blog the I wrote titled "An Elegant Solution for Education." (See below) The paper changed the headline to, "Education Would Improve With A Healthy Dose of Respect." They didn't change anything else, as sometimes happens. The best part was the response. I have received; over 20 emails, and a couple of calls. I am not counting the emails from friends to whom I emailed the article and they were forced to reply kindly. They did. The emails from strangers have been incredibly kind and supportive. Twenty emails might not sound like much but I was thrilled. (Last year I corresponded with a writer who appeared on a segment of Oprah and she said she had received six emails as a result of her appearance. Six for an appearance on Oprah!!)

In making the plunge to being a thorn-in-the-side of the district I realized that when people say "Somebody ought to ..." (and I am guilty of that) I was going to be that some body. Last fall I wrote an editorial that saved, at least temporarily, a good reading program. I am a tenured teacher so they can't fire me. Yes, yes, I realize tenure protects many incompetent teachers. The real question is, will this editorial do any good?

I believe it will. I am a great fan of Malcolm Galdwell's wonderful book The Tipping Point. It made me realize the power of grass roots efforts, and that the high mucky-mucks really need to pay attention to those of us in the trenches. Remember that in Ancient Sparta there were 25,00o citizens and 250,000 slaves. The citizens lived in constant fear of a slave rebellion. I know the school districts would not have to worry so much about rebellions (re: strikes) if teachers felt valued and respected. What a concept: treating employees with dignity. (This should be a given in ALL of life!)

I was so grateful for all the supportive emails I received. Only one was from a grumpy person, who although he could find nothing wrong with what I had to say he did blame all of the ills of education on the National Education Association, which he mistakenly called a union. I thanked him for his comments.

Thank you to my son-in-law, Brett. You got me started on blogging.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

Before, May 1977

She didn't like the first bath from Grandma, but now she loves soaking in the tub.

I always knew she would be beautiful. Just look below.

Age 1, 1978

Alexandra, age 2, 1979

Lily and Tom at Mom's 29th Birthday, 2006


Happy Birthday, Baby Girl.

You have brought us such joy.

We are so proud of all that you have accomplished, and the lives you have touched.

Thirty years ago we could not have imagined any of this, but we always knew you were destined to make the world a better place, and you have.

We love you.

119 degrees is just too hot, even if it's dry heat.

It could get up to 119 F. degrees tomorrow. (48.3 C) Even for those of us who have spent decades in Arizona, that is considered hot. I know, I know, you have heard us say, “But it’s a dr-r-r-r-ry heat.” It is, and the only way I can describe it is like the blast from an oven. It is almost impossible to compare it with heat that includes humidity.

Remember when you have all the humidity you have the literal weight of the moisture in the air. That’s part of what makes a person so lethargic when it’s 98 degrees and the humidity is 98%.

Our problem comes when we get our awful heat and the humidity of the monsoon season. Monsoon is a misnomer, but the Arizona natives have called the rainy summer season “monsoon” and it has stuck.

Our rainy season does not include gentle cooling rain. Instead great mountainous cumulous clouds billow up over the mountains and then the storms come crashing in with noise and flash and shuddering thunder. They are like heat blizzards with punishing winds and more often than not the spectacular lightning that sets off desert wild fires. If we get rain in the spring we get a lot of desert vegetation which dries out in the heat and then is fuel for summer fires.

But after the rain there is the gorgeous, spicy, intoxicating smell of the desert, and nothing else in the world smells better.

The Tortoise, the Hare, and the Treadmill

It’s been three weeks since I seriously started my “treadmilling”. Things are going slowly, but, as my friend pointed out at a recent breakfast, “You might lose more weight if you changed your eating habits.” This, after she watched in horror as I put sugar and cream in my coffee.

“You’re right,” I sniffed. “I know I would lose weight more quickly if I dieted but I also know it wouldn’t be permanent.” She scoffed. “If I diet and lose weight my body will figure it out, and get even.” She scoffed again. “If I exercise and don’t change the way I eat I’ll lose weight.” She was into major scoffing by now. “I already have.” The scoffing abruptly stopped. She was quiet.

“How long do you think this will take?” she wanted to know.

“Maybe, hmmm, a year.”

“A year?”

“Probably.”

“You’re kidding.”

No, I wasn’t. I heard a story of a man who owned a health club and didn’t understand why people had such a hard time losing weight. He went on his first diet and lost twenty-five pounds. It was easy. No big deal. (You know where this story is going.) He put the weight back on plus five pounds and started having trouble with his weight. After I heard that story I decided I would never diet again.

It’s said that you must walk about 40 miles to lose a pound. As of today I’ve walked just under 90 miles, and I things have definitely toned up and I know I’ve lost a little weight. The main thing is I have stuck with this and honestly enjoyed it. That was my original goal:to stick with it.

Believe me, if I can do this anyone can. How are you doing?

An Elegant Solution for Education

Everybody seems to know what is wrong with education, and every one of these experts can tell you, with absolute assurance that the problem with education is one of the following (in no particular order): rotten teachers, rotten kids, rotten parents, an over-sexed society, politics, entertainment, the media, and let’s not forget, junk food. The public is told that if only these things were changed children would start to learn. If only it were that simple.

“Ockham’s Razor”, named after a fourteenth century English friar, is credited with the stating that the simplest explanation is often the best. Here is one of the unquestioned beliefs, as applied to education, that if test scores go up then education is good. Sadly, a great many people, especially those in the political arena who have the power to control education, have sold American’s on this supposed “truth”. As an educator of thirty years, I can only say that this simple truth is horribly and egregiously wrong. Here is the truth folks, and dear Ockham, no doubt, would agree, when tests scores go up it simply means that students did well on tests. It does not mean that any learning took place, or (heaven forbid) that a student learned to love to learn, or became motivated to learn. There are lots of ways to do well on a test that have nothing to do with learning. I know I am not the only one to see this.

We can assume that children who come from stable homes, have two involved parents, plan on going to college, and have good teachers will probably do better in schools than students who have none of those things. However, that is not always the case as many, so-called advantaged kids fail. The explanations for the students who do well in spite of disadvantages are fascinating and wildly conflicting. No one really knows. They do make for good movies, however. (I remind my students that movies are to make money first and foremost, not to necessarily to enlighten.)

I recently talked with a woman who was retired from thirty years of teaching. She said something that took my breath away because it was so obvious, but I had never questioned it. She said she never for one day felt that the school district valued her as a teacher, and that had she treated her students with the contempt and indifference that she experienced she would have been fired. My mouth dropped. She was right. As one example, teachers are no longer allowed to have students exchange papers to grade them in class (I never did this because kids were too busy seeing what they got on their own papers) because it is traumatic when a student doesn’t do well on a test. Yet, there are schools that post in the teacher’s lounge, or other public places, how teacher’s classes perform on standardized tests. The teachers are to be shamed? Shame may work but it is a despicable way to supposedly motivate people.

I already know who will say, “Well, they should be shamed if their class didn’t do well.” I would say to them, is the doctor shamed if the patient doesn’t heal? No! People would say there are just too many factors that the doctor cannot control. And yet people honestly think that teachers do have that control? Exponentially a teacher is often working with thirty or more students at a time, and each student comes with his or her own backpack full of issues. I can tell you from personal experience having a student whose behavior is sociopathic makes it pretty darn hard to teach. Don’t you think that might affect test scores?

Recently Google was listed as one of the best places to work in the country. They are inundated everyday with thousands of applicants. Why? Google employees talk of the wonderful perks: gourmet food, health clubs, great pay, being able to bring pets to work, flexible hours and top notch health care. Those certainly would be incentives for most people. Yet so many Google employees said that being valued as employees was one of the greatest perks. Mmmmmm.

I would be willing to guess that students who feel valued and respected by their teachers enjoy school, and more than likely learn more from that type of teacher. Does that translate to better test scores? I don’t know, and that isn’t the point of education. The point of education is to learn how to learn. Ideally, it is to learn to love to learn and to take that learning and share it for the greater good of humankind.

Smart school districts, will value and respect their teachers. Even Ockham, I am sure would agree, that treating every school employee with respect would be obvious and (here’s the real surprise) it wouldn’t cost a thing.

Wimbleton Widow

“Ung – uuuumph- uuuuump!” Thwack!

“Argggggggrph!” Thunk!

“Ung – umph- omp!” Thwaa-ack!

“Argggggggrph -phoof!” Thunk!

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

“Ung – uuuumph- ump!” Thwack!

“Ohhhhhhhh!”

“Argggggggrph!” Thunk!

The sounds of Wimbleton will soon reverberate throughout our house.

My name is Liz and I’m a Wimbleton Widow.

Strawberry Maniac

I may OD on strawberries. They are so inexpensive, $1.50 a quart, that I have been eating strawberries in everything, and they are huge strawberries, too. Until the tell-tale red splotches appear on my skin I’m going for it.

I talked to my sister, who lives in Minnesota and she said she tries not to look at the prices when she buys them. There are some things in life you just have to splurge on and strawberries are one of them. I can’t believe I didn’t like them as a child.

By the way, the cantaloupes are wonderful, too. Oh! And the peaches are just perfect. I’m in heaven. The wonderful fruit makes the crushing Arizona summer heat worth it. Remember though; it’s a dry heat.

TREADMILL UPDATE

Okay, I don’t look anything like any of these women. I am the same height as Eva L., who, by the way, is 5’1” tall (or short) but CLAIMS to be 5’2”. I never looked like her, and never will. Sally Field is 5’1” in height and a little older than I am, and you have probably seen her hawking medicine for osteoporosis. I know she suffered from a multitude of eating disorders when she was younger, and chances are they have contributed to her present condition. However, now the woman looks great and I would be happy if my body looked like hers.

Valerie Bertonelli is in my height category, but I never got anywhere near as chubby as she, thank goodness. Cellulite does not discriminate and even former wives of former rock stars succumb. I guess being paid a gazillion dollars to go on TV to sell whatever diet program is motivation enough for her. I just think it makes losing weight all too complicated. (Is Kirsty Allie finished losing weight? Is she happy at that size? If she is, good for her, but who, for goodness sake, picks out her clothes? Not very figure flattering.)

However, I refuse to diet. I have found that if someone says I can’t have a particular goodie then it haunts my dreams. Also, I quit weighing myself over twenty years ago. I did not want to be tied to a number on a scale. I turn around on the scale at the doctor’s office. They are used to it by now.

I don’t diet because yes, one does lose weight when one diets except that your body gets used to less food and if you try to eat “normally” those pesky pounds, which have missed you so much, come right back usually on the butt. The diet industry wants to continue sucking money out of people when 95% of them put the weight back on, and then some. (Check the statistics yourself.) Even Valerie’s diet company admits to that when pressed.

So, how is walking on the treadmill going? Fantastically. Since I am not a television watcher I decided I would order the shows from NetFlix and watch them as I walked. I have a headphone set and I bought an extension cord from Radio Shack so that no one else is bothered by the many episodes of “Desperate Housewives” I view. I walk when I feel like it. This has been so easy. Yes, I look forward to the walking. I have a little calendar and, as of today, I am walking an average of 3.46 miles per day.

So, I know this way will take longer, but I’m okay with that. Honestly, at my age I want to be healthy and I’m letting my body decide what is a healthy size for me.

Here is my plan. I want to keep this up, and I believe I can. Let me know how you are doing. Pass it on.

A Story with a Sad, But Not Surprising Ending

This coming fall I will start my thirtieth year of teaching. Yes, yes, it’s corny but I really do love it. However, I spent way too many years feeling bad about students with I whom I couldn’t connect. Time, being the great clonk-on-the-head factor says that the more you try to connect with a student the more you drive them away. That was the case with Winston (not his real name). I found out that no one connected with him.

If you have ever read any of Barbara Robinson’s hilarious books about the Herdman’s, who were “the worst kids in the history of the world,” then you would know about Winston. He was, without a doubt, the worst kid I ever had; truly a child without a conscience. I have since learned that he is more than likely, a sociopath. I will, gentle readers, spare you the details of all the unbelievably awful things he did, but I was ready to quit teaching because of him. It is ironic that one of the other students in that same class went on to be her class valedictorian and had many offers of full college scholarships. She, on the other hand, probably will never know that she kept me from quitting.

That spring that Winston was in my 6th grade class I called his father to report one of the latest of his horrendous behaviors (and no, the administrator at that school prided herself on NEVER suspending a child no matter how bad the behavior or district guidelines). The father immediately turned vicious. I was taken back as I had never had that happen before. (My earlier complaining, as an example, of his taking Winston to R rated movies which he graphically shared with classmates was greeted with a don’t-be-so-uptight reaction from the dad.) This time the dad personally attacked me, then threatened me. I reminded him that it was against the law to threaten a teacher. He screamed at me, “I’m not threatening you but if you ever ….” and so on and so on. Then I did something that I’m not proud of. I said, “Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I definitely went to his level. Interestingly, Winston’s dad owned a collection agency. He probably thought he was talking to me normally. Geesh!

Two weeks ago I saw that Winston’s dad died. I have removed all identifying information. He was in his early 40’s. This is his obituary:



*****, passed away after a brave battle with colon cancer. ***** was born in ***** and he was raised in Arizona. He had a strong will and he lived his life on his own terms. He was the epitome of an entrepreneur-always dreaming up and developing new business opportunities and ventures. He was his father's son. Although he worked hard, ***** knew how to have fun too. He loved playing poker-Texas Hold 'Em in particular. Many a weekend he would invite friends over for a night of card-playing fun. Ask any of his friends and family and they would tell you how much he touched their lives and what a generous man he was. ***** is preceded in death by his father and sister, He is survived by his son, ********, mother and sisters. (We cannot go without mentioning his special Aunt, who gave of her time, her love and her support to *****and the rest of his family during this difficult journey. We will miss you **** boy.

I take no delight in his passing. His end was miserable. As I stated in an earlier blog about planning your own funeral I would also advise people to write their own obituaries, because I would not consider this one as praiseworthy.

I wonder what will happen to Winston now. I still have no idea what I could have done to help him, and now, even though his dad was a jerk, Winston has no father.

Breaking the Myth of Sarcasm; It's Not a Joke Anymore!

I realized that I needed to expand on my profile comment about giving up sarcasm, as I am sure you have noticed some sarcastic comments in my blogs. Let me explain.

Several years ago I developed a goal-setting program for my students. It was successful beyond anything I could have hoped for. It was an absolute magical year and I felt that I could teach forever. I have been teaching this particular program for three years and I am, in fact, even more enthused. The program has grown and I have even taught it to adults through some very prestigious organizations. It has truly changed many lives for the better.

When I first started the program there were glitches, of course. The problem was sarcasm. Sixth grader’s sarcasm is usually very clumsy. It is pretty much not even up to the level of slap-stick comedy. It is pathetic. One girl, Leeta, was a master of rapier-like sarcasm, never to me, however. Students are rarely rude to me (exception being Samuel, off meds, in the Diva/Victim/Bully blog below.) Leeta could rip the other kids to pieces and they never knew what hit them. Leeta was the black-belt of 6th grade sarcasm. I would find a glob of gelatinous goo on the floor, which had been a student at one time, and knew that Leeta struck again. That kind of sarcasm took practice.

I invited Leeta’s mother in for a conference. I asked her if Leeta and her brother were sarcastic with one another. “Ayeeee!” was her answer.

“I take that to mean ‘yes’?” Leeta and her brother were vicious to one another and the mother was desperate for help.

I came up with a plan and I have eliminated most sarcasm from my life. How? Why are people sarcastic? They say, and this is the biggest bunch of horse sh**t to ever come down the pike; “I was just joking.” No they weren’t. No, they aren’t. Don’t ever, ever, ever believe that again. It is a lie. I challenge you to challenge anyone who ever says that to you again.

Sarcasm has three components.
(1.) - to make the person being sarcastic feel superior.
(2.) – to make the person being sarcastic feel right.
(3.) – to enable the person being sarcastic to inflict pain.

Whenever anyone uses the “I was only joking” excuse we put it to the test. Are they trying to feel superior? Are they bullying to be right? Do they wish to hurt the other person? A yes to any one of these is not acceptable and the person is being sarcastic. Period.

Here’s the big question though, is it ever acceptable to be sarcastic? Yes! Absolutely! Egotistical overblown celebrities deserve sarcasm. Britney Spears was a great source of sarcasm for my class this year. She was a poster person for my class. They now know what sycophant’s are. They know now that money does not buy happiness or good sense or good taste (good haircut? Mother of the year? etc.) Britney Spears is a public figure, and yes, yes, yes, she is to be pitied, too. I don’t feel bad about being sarcastic toward her.

Here in Arizona we are always being sarcastic about the heat. Yes, 115 degrees is hot. How hot was it? You know the bit. When I lived in North Dakota we would be sarcastic about the cold. You can be sarcastic about political figures, too. That is part of being a celebrity.

But, as a teacher, sarcasm is never to be used against a student. I was guilty of that, and I am not proud. I can only pray for forgiveness for that. I can now expect others not to be sarcastic with me if they are trying to act superior, right or hurtful. That, by any other name is bullying, and that should never be accepted.

A Happy Boy

This past Thursday Gary and I went the Phoenix Art Museum to see the exhibit called “Curves of Steele” which was an exhibit of cars which were famous for being the best examples of streamlined automobiles from the 1930’s to 1990’s. The pictures above are not from the exhibit but rather there were two cars that were models similar to these.

As Gary looked at the Ferrari, restored to perfection, he whispered, “It’s like a piece of sculpture.” He drank it in.

Gary has an encyclopedic knowledge of these, and most of the cars in the exhibit. One elderly lady eavesdropped as he told me about the electric blue McClaren. It was wonderful to hear these stories from him. He was just beside himself, and awestruck to see these cars. I bought him the companion book as an early Father’s Day Present, and that made him a very happy boy.

It was a delightful time, and reminds me of why I have loved this man for 40 years.

BIG SECRET - Not for Fitness Purists

Do not forward this blog to any of your friends who are really into fitness and exercise because it will cause them to faint, or just explode with frustration at those of us who are not exercising correctly (which is a felony in some states, I understand.)

A number of years I ago I got up before sunrise and went walking. The weight almost magically came off. It was fun and I listened to a great many books on cd (shameless plug for Audible.com.) The problem was – big surprise - once school started up again I didn’t keep it up.

Next, when summer started I got a bottom of the line treadmill, and watched movies as I walked away. Those pesky pounds dropped off, school started and I didn’t keep up the walking. I was too tired. I didn’t want more work!

I teach with a number of women who are hardcore exercisers. They go to the gym faithfully. They are toned. Some, shame, shame, are even tan (which is NOT a cool thing to do here in our skin cancer state.) I want to hit them, but I haven’t the strength. I needed a different strategy. I needed something that worked.

Brilliant idea. How would you exercise if you could exercise the way you wanted to? What if you never heard, or never believed Jane Fonda’s “No pain. No gain.” Easy answer; it would be fun and no work. That’s how little kids exercise. That’s how I stayed skinny as a little kid.

Here is my plan, and you can do this too, as long as you promise to keep it secret. If word gets out it would ruin the “Health Club” economy. Oh, darn.

I renewed my Netflix membership and plan to watch the TV shows that I never have watched because I am too wiggly to sit and watch TV. (No, I can’t watch and do something that is even slightly left brianed, either. I can’t multi-task.) I am currently treading, literally, through “Desperate Housewives”, but here is my secret; I slowly walk a mile. Go do other stuff. Come back. Slowly walk another mile. Go do other stuff. Slowly walk another mile. Ect., ect.

Guess what? I am not sore. I am not exhausted. Yes, I know the purists will say that won’t do any good. I believe that’s a HUGE part of the exercise problem. I am sure there are a lot of people who have bought into the purists theories and believe that since they can’t exercise properly they won’t bother. What if that isn’t true? What’s the worst that can happen? I will be getting exercise and having fun and therefore I’ll keep it up. Is that so bad? Don’t know. I’ll keep you posted.