Boomer Sooner
September 18,2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Stings
When I taught 6th grade for one year in Arizona, we had to go to the door and get our line of students in the morning when it was time for school to begin. One day I was leading my students to the classroom, and I put my hand on a little girl's shoulder. She was wearing her backpack which meant my hand was on her thick shoulder strap. I got stung. It was the oddest thing. There was no bee or wasp. The bee must have stung her in the strap, and it left the stinger for ME! It stung as if I had been stung by the actual bee. It was so weird and not fun. But I was a trooper, I could handle it.
During tryouts one year when I coached junior high soccer in Arizona, a little 7th grader was running and got stung by a bee on the tip top of her head. But she was a trooper and could handle it.
Last Friday, a man came to mark the underground lines in our backyard because they are going to move our gas meter. He got stung by a wasp in his eyebrow. He kept telling me that it would have been a trip to the ER if it had hit his eye. He said, "But, I'm a trooper. I can handle it." He got out some wasp killer and sprayed the nest. We've lived here for a couple of months, and we'd never seen a wasp.
During tryouts one year when I coached junior high soccer in Arizona, a little 7th grader was running and got stung by a bee on the tip top of her head. But she was a trooper and could handle it.
Last Friday, a man came to mark the underground lines in our backyard because they are going to move our gas meter. He got stung by a wasp in his eyebrow. He kept telling me that it would have been a trip to the ER if it had hit his eye. He said, "But, I'm a trooper. I can handle it." He got out some wasp killer and sprayed the nest. We've lived here for a couple of months, and we'd never seen a wasp.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Tidbits
#1) Take away his Heisman! It is fitting that he plays for the Saints. They are dirty players, and he is a creep. (I know, pretty strong statement, but it is the truth - I firmly believe that the Saints were out to hurt Brett Favre last year in the NFC Championship game. By the way, welcome back Favre. I am one person glad you are still playing.)
#2)Personally, I think it is funny that Matt Leinart was cut from the Cardinals. I love the Cardinals, but I've never liked him. Can you tell that I can't stand USC?
#3)I hope Bob is the winning brother this weekend.
#4) The animal control man visited our house again... the second time since Molly was born. The first time was for a cat stuck in the wooden fence. It writhed and screamed and tried to wound Aaron. The man came literally in the middle of the night (like 2 a.m.). The cat was alive but filled with more broken bones than I care to know. I'm pretty sure he didn't make it once he got to the animal hospital. This time I thought it was another kitty. Nope, an opossum. It died. The guy got it out without any gloves. Ick.
#5)I don't know how channel 9 can make the crazy decision to no longer broadcast Regis and Kelly. I've called the station to voice my sadness. Evidently I'm not the only one upset. I'm hoping another channel will carry it.
#2)Personally, I think it is funny that Matt Leinart was cut from the Cardinals. I love the Cardinals, but I've never liked him. Can you tell that I can't stand USC?
#3)I hope Bob is the winning brother this weekend.
#4) The animal control man visited our house again... the second time since Molly was born. The first time was for a cat stuck in the wooden fence. It writhed and screamed and tried to wound Aaron. The man came literally in the middle of the night (like 2 a.m.). The cat was alive but filled with more broken bones than I care to know. I'm pretty sure he didn't make it once he got to the animal hospital. This time I thought it was another kitty. Nope, an opossum. It died. The guy got it out without any gloves. Ick.
#5)I don't know how channel 9 can make the crazy decision to no longer broadcast Regis and Kelly. I've called the station to voice my sadness. Evidently I'm not the only one upset. I'm hoping another channel will carry it.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Commercials That I Currently Love
Target's back-to-school commercial.
Direct TV's Greenbay "Dirtbag" ad. Hilarious.
AT&T's Spelling Bee.
Direct TV's Greenbay "Dirtbag" ad. Hilarious.
AT&T's Spelling Bee.
It's been bothering me...
The sentence in my last post where I wrote, "It is a little bittersweet..."
It isn't. I didn't actually fib, but it is not bittersweet, it is relief & joy that I feel. Teaching 8th grade was fun. Now I'm glad I don't. Maybe I will again someday, but YAY! I'm home with my girl - it's dreamy.
It isn't. I didn't actually fib, but it is not bittersweet, it is relief & joy that I feel. Teaching 8th grade was fun. Now I'm glad I don't. Maybe I will again someday, but YAY! I'm home with my girl - it's dreamy.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
She loves September (and synonyms, too).
She is intuitive. Sensitive. Inspiring. And true.
She makes the greatest kind of difference.
She is a teacher. She leads with her voice.
She believes in the alphabet.
She cares about language.
Her strength is her listening.
The number line is where she stands.
She knows the rhythm of syllables.
She opens the imagination.
She discovers new ideas.
Visual displays make her smile (interactive projects and world maps, too).
Her commitment is her classroom.
(from a notepad I bought years ago in AZ)
It is a little bittersweet to turn the corner into my neighborhood at 2:40 p.m.
Vehicles line the street up one side and down the other waiting for the 6th, 7th, & 8th graders to come out of school. My school day used to end at 2:50, also, and I do have nostalgia for those days. Those days of reading my favorite junior high books, teaching the parts of speech, shaking my head with disbelief when students couldn't remember which to use: there, their, or they're, laughing at their crazy antics, and breaking through their I'm-tough-and-obnoxious-and-I-think-I'm-smarter-than-you attitudes. Teaching 8th grade was fun.
Now my only "student" brings tears of joy to my eyes on a daily basis with her sweet laugh, sparkly smile, and twinkling eyes. She can't speak real words, but she doesn't need to. I don't need to carry on a conversation to be able to communicate with her. It is delightful, special, and too amazing to put into words. I wish I could because let me tell you, I've tried. Pictures can't capture either. I've tried. I'm her mother, and I'm in love with her.
She is intuitive. Sensitive. Inspiring. And true.
She makes the greatest kind of difference.
She is a teacher. She leads with her voice.
She believes in the alphabet.
She cares about language.
Her strength is her listening.
The number line is where she stands.
She knows the rhythm of syllables.
She opens the imagination.
She discovers new ideas.
Visual displays make her smile (interactive projects and world maps, too).
Her commitment is her classroom.
(from a notepad I bought years ago in AZ)
It is a little bittersweet to turn the corner into my neighborhood at 2:40 p.m.
Vehicles line the street up one side and down the other waiting for the 6th, 7th, & 8th graders to come out of school. My school day used to end at 2:50, also, and I do have nostalgia for those days. Those days of reading my favorite junior high books, teaching the parts of speech, shaking my head with disbelief when students couldn't remember which to use: there, their, or they're, laughing at their crazy antics, and breaking through their I'm-tough-and-obnoxious-and-I-think-I'm-smarter-than-you attitudes. Teaching 8th grade was fun.
Now my only "student" brings tears of joy to my eyes on a daily basis with her sweet laugh, sparkly smile, and twinkling eyes. She can't speak real words, but she doesn't need to. I don't need to carry on a conversation to be able to communicate with her. It is delightful, special, and too amazing to put into words. I wish I could because let me tell you, I've tried. Pictures can't capture either. I've tried. I'm her mother, and I'm in love with her.
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