Okay God, what are you doing?

I just got home from church. While at church, I got some pretty raunchy news. You see, I've been waiting all summer to hear if and when my school is going to get a modular classroom for my sixth grade class. You read that right. It's July 27th, and I still don't have a classroom. To make matters worse, this is the second summer in a row that this has happened to me. Last summer I didn't get to move into my classroom until a week AFTER school started. For a week, my 24 6th graders had to cram into the tiny home ec room and had to sit crammed together in a stuffy, worn-out classroom. Then over Labor Day weekend (a week after school started) I came in and set up my classroom. If you're not a teacher you might not fully comprehend the ridiculosity of this situation. Anyways...back to the raunchy news. I had been praying my brains out that my classroom would be approved at tonight's township meeting. I was jittery with anticipation. Half-way through the church service I noticed our director of finance administration was back in the room. He was supposed to be at the township meeting. I though, "Oooo goody! I get to find out that my classroom was approved." I sat in suspense through the rest of the service. The ending prayers took FOREVER! Finally, our DFA spoke up and informed us that the township took us off of the docket. They won't approve us for at least another two weeks. Keep in mind we requested this back in February or March. I just wanted to cry in the middle of the service.

God has really been molding my heart and mind this summer about trusting him. I know he can do all things. I just don't know if he will choose to do all things. He might choose to let me suffer so I can learn a lesson. What if I don't want to learn a lesson? What if I already learned the lesson last summer? I thought I was really making progress. Now I've been slammed back to my old doubting. I love God. I want to serve him. I KNOW he has my best interests at heart. But right here, right now, it sure doesn't feel like it. I think I should probably go listen to some Laura Story and watch some Dog the Bounty Hunter. That'll make me feel better.

Rhine versus the Ants

Ever read the short story "Leiningen versus the Ants" by Carl Stephenson? If you haven't, read it here. Like most short stories, it's rather disturbing. I read it back in high school and have been slightly freaked out by ants ever since. I also watched a documentary on siafu ants found in third world countries. They sometimes eat people who are sleeping or are too sick to fight them off (if I remember correctly). You can check out the Wikipedia article here if you want to read more about them (because if you're like me you have to research every single new piece of information that you come across). This documentary perpetuated my minor fear of ants.

Anyways, I'm taking on the ants in my kitchen. They attack at least once every year. It usually happens in late summer and early fall. I've already had one infestation. I conquered them with grits and ant bait. On Saturday, I came back from a short camping trip to another infestation in my kitchen. This one was worse than the last one. They actually made it off of the counters and onto the floor. I think they generally are encouraged to come when there are excessive heat and excessive dirty dishes. 

Yes, I will admit I didn't wash my dishes before my overnight camp-out. My mom will now give me a short lecture after reading this. I just ran out of time. Fun is sometimes more important than cleanliness. Anyways, my kitchen was primed for an ant invasion. So after cleaning my kitchen thoroughly, I covered the countertops with a combination of grits and cayenne pepper. I also set up my ant baits. I'm not sure if they have any bait left in them. We'll see what happens. If there are still ants crawling around by tomorrow morning, I'm moving on to stage 2 of the annihilation plan. This stage involves maple syrup and more ant baits. I refuse to end up like Leiningen!

My Journey as a Reader

As an English major, conservative Baptist, and avid blog reader, I've come across several individuals who skipped the typical adolescent literature phase and went right on to classic novels. Whenever I come across these individuals, I feel like I somehow am inferior because I didn't start reading classic novels on my own until my junior year of high school. Even then I was forcing myself to because I knew I needed to get caught up if I was to succeed as an English teacher. I had a friend in college who started reading Dickens when she was 7 and Shakespeare when she was 12. I didn't read Dickens until my senior year of high school and still haven't finished A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens is just so wordy!). I read my first Shakespeare play my freshman year of high school when we read Romeo and Juliet for class. I HATED Shakespeare until my junior year of college when I took a Shakespeare class and learned to appreciate his work. 

Instead of reading classics as a child, I was busy devouring Nancy Drew, Boxcar Children, American Girl, Goosebumps, and Babysitter's Club. (Although the last two were either read at school or stashed under my pillow so my mom wouldn't know. I later confessed.) When my mom deemed I was old enough, she let me read the Christian romance novels that she finished. I soon became obsessed with Christian romance novels and wouldn't read any books that didn't have romance in them. A friend of mine encouraged me to eventually stop reading Christian romance novels, and I've only read 1 or 2 since my sophomore year of college. In college, I started reading only classics to make up for lost time. This was fun for about two years when I tired of trying to interpret my recreational literature. Then I took a class called Adolescent Literature. This class reminded me that I could still enjoy middle school level books because many of them are so well-written. I always used the excuse that I was previewing them for my future students. One of my former students still recommends adolescent novels to me and brings me copies of books he enjoyed reading. Since getting married, I've tried reading contemporary adult fiction. Most of the books I've come across in this genre are absolute trash. I've taken many of these books back to the library without finishing them. I've also finished some of them and felt extremely guilty afterwards. Now I read a mixture of adolescent, classic, and modern fiction. I also try to balance my fiction reading with good Christian non-fiction.

I'm slowly starting to realize that I don't need to evaluate my worth against the aforementioned child prodigies. I enjoyed my childhood to the fullest. I read books that interested me. I learned to love reading by reading books geared for my age group. I still love to read and still take time to read classics. I think my approach to reading helps me inspire my 6th graders to love reading as well. I can recommend books for them at their interest level. I can share my unbridled passion for reading with them in a way that they can understand and appreciate.

So what will I encourage my own children to read someday? Whatever they want to read (as long as the book is appropriate). I will challenge them to try new genres and authors, but I'm not going to stand in the way of them finding their passion for reading. I'm thankful my parents let me choose my own books. I'll do the same for my own kids.

Two Years of Wedded Bliss

Yesterday marked my 2nd wedding anniversary. In some ways it seems like 2 months, and in other ways it seems like 20 years. I know everyone says that, but everyone says that because it's true. My wedding day was absolutely perfect (minus the stress of trying to fit as much of my life's belongings into my car as possible). I really felt our wedding was a reflection of who we both were. It was elegant, yet simple. My dad didn't make me skimp on costs because I was his only daughter. I did happen to find my wedding dress for only $99 at David's Bridal. With alterations, it only cost about $200 total. That's incredible considering cheap dresses start at about $500.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Johansen Photography

Our anniversary yesterday was perfect. Ben found a new Mexican restaurant for us to try, which was unbelievably good. Then we went to see a movie afterwards. When we got home from the movie, the toilet started making weird gurgling noises. Then the water pressure slowed way down. Then, there was no water. Our landlord called and said the well pump broke. We were hoping it would be up and running this morning, but no such luck. My landlord's wife just stopped by and said that it might not get fixed until tomorrow. Oh joy. It's amazing how much you realize that you need water when you don't even have it. So, it should be an interesting few days to say the least!

Salsa Fresca

On Sunday I finally made fresh salsa for the first time. It was on my summer to-do list. I went to the local farm market (my husband said it can't be called a farmer's market since it was produce from only one farm) on Saturday to get some fresh tomatoes. Then, I found a recipe on Allrecipes.com. You can find the link here.

It worked out pretty well. I had never even heard of a jicama before and neither did the check-out boy at the grocery store. It's considered to be a root/tuber and can be used as either a vegetable or a fruit. My husband and I tried a raw piece. It reminded me of a grainy, unsweetened apple. It's not bad. I have to figure out what to do with the rest of it now.

The salsa tasted good the first day. I haven't tried it again since then because I had a queasy stomach yesterday from some bad Mexican food the night before. I might try it today to see if it flavored anymore. My husband LOVED it and says it's the best salsa he's ever tasted. He is a bit biased, though.

Nostalgia Before Nutrition

For some odd reason I've been nostalgic lately. It may have something to do with reading memoirs with one of my ESL students. I also end up telling lots of childhood stories to him because he's curious about our culture.

Anyways, I had a hankering for some boxed mac 'n cheese with cut up hotdogs in it. My husband and I both grew up with this "staple." It sure beats PB&J (which I despise).

Now I know there are all sorts of horrible things in boxed mac 'n cheese and hotdogs. But, I don't really care. The flavor is amazing. The saltiness of the hotdogs pairs perfectly with the mac 'n cheese. So, for  Sunday dinner today I made mac 'n cheese with hotdogs. I used my fine china because...well, I could. When you're an adult you can do eccentric things like that. It was a fantastic meal. We both loved it. I'll take nostalgia over nutrition any day.

Time Travel

Do you ever wish you could go back to a certain period of your life for just a little bit? I certainly do. I had a wonderful childhood. Yeah, my parents made mistakes. (Like forcing me to go to my neighbors' parties, or making me have thick, eyebrow-length bangs, or not forcing me to learn how to swim.) But they did some great things too.

We moved a few times when I was a child. One of my favorite homes was a big Victorian home built in 1905. It was pretty junky when we first moved in, but my dad spent thousands of hours remodeling it. Since I was the only girl, I never had to share a room. My bedroom was the very first room to be remodeled. (It pays to be a daddy's girl.) All of my toys were in that room. I could spend hour upon hour in that room playing with Barbies or Polly Pockets (the choking hazard kind) or reading Nancy Drew mysteries. It was right next to my parents' room, so I could make easy pilgrimages to their room after watching a movie that was a little too scary. My brothers always begged to play with me in my room. It drove me crazy. I was always content to play alone. I could be more imaginative that way.

We also had an expansive backyard at that house. My brothers and I decided we would dig an underground church one summer. We dug quite a large hole but couldn't really figure out how we were going to get the dirt back on top of us once we dug it deep enough. Needless to say we never finished it because we had to move the next summer. We also spent hours upon hours with our neighbor playing a game we called "Wonder Woman and Cat Woman." I was Wonder Woman, she was Cat Woman, my brother Kent was Batman, and my other brothers were Ninja Turtles. We would run around the yard essentially solving the same crime over and over again with a few variations here and there. We were so imaginative. I spent most of the time imagining the outfits I was wearing or imagining the boyfriend that I had. Kent would imagine himself ripping the "bad guy" from limb to limb in his typical war-hungry fashion. Our neighbor girl would always be running back home to get some toy. She would say, "Back in a flash!" and return 30 minutes to an hour later. We would sit on the front step patiently waiting the entire time. 

My brother Kent and me

Those were probably the best years of my childhood. I often conjure up images of that house when I'm reading a book about an old house and need a point of reference. I often find myself craving for the simplicity of life back then. Summers spent playing in the backyard all day long. Winters spent watching my dad carve snow sculptures in our front lawn. Afternoons spent pounding out my piano lessons desperate to get back outside. Evenings spent stomping up the stairs to scare away the "bad guys" after reading another Nancy Drew novel. Sometimes I just wish I could rewind my life and spend a few days as a little girl in that big old house. Sometimes I just wish I could recapture the feeling of no pressure, no responsibility. I hope one day my children can have a childhood like mine. Maybe I can live vicariously through them.