So, I still can't talk about all the stuff that's been going on. It's weird though, it's like all my friends are just pulling together to make me feel great. Most don't know that I'm dealing with some doo doo; yet it's like the heavens or the Holy Ghost or the interconnectedness of us all has taken pity on me.
I get a call at the end of a long Friday as I'm pulling out of the school parking lot (yeah, my car has bluetooth, how cool is that? I actually talk to people through my car and its speakers); do I want to go out to dinner at the Tee-off? Saturday another call, do I want to go walk the dogs on the beach? Last week, a package arrived from England; a good friend there had packed up (and boy did he do some packing!) four bottles of Crabbie's Alcoholic Ginger Beer, and mailed them to me. From England, people! Somehow, they got through, and I'm rationing them. Totally a surprise and very cool.
I'm going to a wine festival next Saturday, and then an overnight at a spa with my two friends. They gave me the spa treatment for my birthday. So very very cool.
My students for the most part are very sweet; I can't complain about their behavior (well, not about most of them), and I so do enjoy working with the other folks in my department.
But you don't want to hear about this, do you? You want the dirt.
Not going to do it here. Can't. Damage-that-I-can't-undo if I did.
However, what I am noticing is balance. When ca-ca happens, so does the good stuff. For me, it's the friends. I'm not so down that I don't see how wonderful one part of my life is. No, there are some massive communication troubles (not on my part, I've never been known to be...how you say... tight-lipped about something that's bothering me), that are upsetting me right now, but at the same time, there are these little bright spots that keep me from wallowing. Oh, I have a good cry about once a day, as one does, but then I get on with it.
I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be secretive here. What I'm trying to say is that it's evening out. This poop that I'm dealing with? Not my doing. It landed in my lap, and now I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of it, but I've not lost sight of the big picture.
Most of the time, it's a good one.
{I just counted. The word "I" is repeated 26 times. Narcissistic much?}
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Angry woman
I can't post about anything right now. I'd come off as a raging female canine and don't want to do that. I'm angry about so many things; is that part of coming home? Where is the place I can rant without it being out there forever?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Early in the morning
I know it. I'm going to be one of those old people who go to bed at 7:30 at night and get up at three or four in the morning.
I'm already up at five. Five am! What is up with that? Not much to do then; what did early risers do before the Internet?
Ah well, here I am. Had a great weekend with some friends from my Pilgrim Pines camp days. Now, when anyone has bad things to say about Facebook, I tell them my story.
See, Pilgrim Pines is and was a very special place. I started going in the summer of 1975, when I was a junior camper. It was a church camp, but the United Church of Christ (not to be confused with the Church of Christ) has always been leading the way for social justice Christians. Those of you that lump all Christians into the hellfire and damnation and narrow-minded category, do a little research. Not all of us are neo-conservatives, nor do we think all others should think exactly as we do. Even in the 70's, we were at the forefront of acceptance. The idea is that God doesn't judge, and neither should we. I know, that goes against what many of you think of when you hear the word "Christian." I've even heard the term "Christianist" to describe the hateful, judgemental way of the neo-conservatives. That bugs me. Please don't lump me in with them.
Anyway, I digress. Social justice is what my church has been about. The church camp was no different, and it had a big influence on my life. I went on to work at the camp as a lifeguard, and made some deep friendships. Later, I went to Japan to teach at a Christian girl's school (Kobe Jogakuin), because of connections made at camp.
As I got older, I lost touch with most of my friends from those times. We all got on with our lives, marriages, children, and all that. I'd hear of someone now and then, but really, didn't know where most of us had ended up.
Enter Facebook. Someone started a page for "Pilgrim Pines from the 80's." My sister found it, and told me, and here we are today. There are over 225 members, and no, I don't remember all of them, but wow, it's been great catching up. I went to a reunion last year; a beach day, and it was great. Yes, we've all changed in the last 25 years, but wow, we ended up pretty spectacular people. So many of us have ended up in careers in which we help others. Teachers, social workers, speech therapists, volunteers. We give back. Some are involved in church life and others like me, not so much.
So, my sister decided it was time to go back to where it started. An overnight at Pilgrim Pines. Yucaipa, California is about 200 miles away from Santa Barbara. It's a drive. A long drive for a less-than-24-hour stay. But wait, there were folks who came from Redding and Oakland. One couple from Houston, Texas. That's how important this place is.
She set it all up through Facebook. We sent her money, we got the reservation, and once again, we were together in that special place.
Talking to people, I realized how many challenges have been in our lives since we were 18 or 20 years old. Cancer, death, divorce... difficult stuff. Things that are rare when you've just become an adult, but become (sadly) more commonplace as one hits the halfway point of his or her life.
Yet, there was a hope, an optimism that still seemed to be a part of my friends. I didn't feel from anyone a sense of giving up, or even of cynicism. No one seemed beaten down, even though there were tough times for some. There was a feeling that if I needed help, it would be there. Just because that's the way it was. Friends help friends. Even if we'd lost touch, the reason we liked each other all those years ago hadn't changed. It wasn't because we were all in the same place at the same time, or liked the same football team, or we had all grown up together; it was because basically, we were good people. How corny is that?
But it's the truth.
I'm already up at five. Five am! What is up with that? Not much to do then; what did early risers do before the Internet?
Ah well, here I am. Had a great weekend with some friends from my Pilgrim Pines camp days. Now, when anyone has bad things to say about Facebook, I tell them my story.
See, Pilgrim Pines is and was a very special place. I started going in the summer of 1975, when I was a junior camper. It was a church camp, but the United Church of Christ (not to be confused with the Church of Christ) has always been leading the way for social justice Christians. Those of you that lump all Christians into the hellfire and damnation and narrow-minded category, do a little research. Not all of us are neo-conservatives, nor do we think all others should think exactly as we do. Even in the 70's, we were at the forefront of acceptance. The idea is that God doesn't judge, and neither should we. I know, that goes against what many of you think of when you hear the word "Christian." I've even heard the term "Christianist" to describe the hateful, judgemental way of the neo-conservatives. That bugs me. Please don't lump me in with them.
Anyway, I digress. Social justice is what my church has been about. The church camp was no different, and it had a big influence on my life. I went on to work at the camp as a lifeguard, and made some deep friendships. Later, I went to Japan to teach at a Christian girl's school (Kobe Jogakuin), because of connections made at camp.
As I got older, I lost touch with most of my friends from those times. We all got on with our lives, marriages, children, and all that. I'd hear of someone now and then, but really, didn't know where most of us had ended up.
Enter Facebook. Someone started a page for "Pilgrim Pines from the 80's." My sister found it, and told me, and here we are today. There are over 225 members, and no, I don't remember all of them, but wow, it's been great catching up. I went to a reunion last year; a beach day, and it was great. Yes, we've all changed in the last 25 years, but wow, we ended up pretty spectacular people. So many of us have ended up in careers in which we help others. Teachers, social workers, speech therapists, volunteers. We give back. Some are involved in church life and others like me, not so much.
So, my sister decided it was time to go back to where it started. An overnight at Pilgrim Pines. Yucaipa, California is about 200 miles away from Santa Barbara. It's a drive. A long drive for a less-than-24-hour stay. But wait, there were folks who came from Redding and Oakland. One couple from Houston, Texas. That's how important this place is.
She set it all up through Facebook. We sent her money, we got the reservation, and once again, we were together in that special place.
Talking to people, I realized how many challenges have been in our lives since we were 18 or 20 years old. Cancer, death, divorce... difficult stuff. Things that are rare when you've just become an adult, but become (sadly) more commonplace as one hits the halfway point of his or her life.
Yet, there was a hope, an optimism that still seemed to be a part of my friends. I didn't feel from anyone a sense of giving up, or even of cynicism. No one seemed beaten down, even though there were tough times for some. There was a feeling that if I needed help, it would be there. Just because that's the way it was. Friends help friends. Even if we'd lost touch, the reason we liked each other all those years ago hadn't changed. It wasn't because we were all in the same place at the same time, or liked the same football team, or we had all grown up together; it was because basically, we were good people. How corny is that?
But it's the truth.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Day one down, 179 to go
It's going to be a good year, I can feel it, but dang, does it have to be the hottest day of the summer on the day we go back to school?
Did I ever tell you about how they fixed the heat problem in my classroom?
Several years ago we had an extended heat wave in May. I get sun on two sides of my classroom, and since it's cinderblock, when it heats up, it stays heated up.
I had seen that my room had been at 92-93 at eight in the morning two days in a row, getting hotter as the day wore on. It was impossible to teach anything to students who were almost comotose, and when I was ready to pass out myself. I asked if there was anything to do, perhaps get the fans that worked with the heater to work independently from it? You know, to at least move the hot air around?
Well, they sent a guy from the district office to come in and take care of it.
He removed the thermostat.
Yeah, we are problem solvers here. Can't see the temperature, then it must not be that hot. Right?
Anyway, I'm in the hot room in the house, because I have to write two example poems. Used to be a time I loved this stuff. Now I just want to sit in a cold bath. Or a cold pool. Or an air-conditioned car. Doesn't that sound good?
Okay, back to work.
Still haven't decided what to do about this blog.
Did I ever tell you about how they fixed the heat problem in my classroom?
Several years ago we had an extended heat wave in May. I get sun on two sides of my classroom, and since it's cinderblock, when it heats up, it stays heated up.
I had seen that my room had been at 92-93 at eight in the morning two days in a row, getting hotter as the day wore on. It was impossible to teach anything to students who were almost comotose, and when I was ready to pass out myself. I asked if there was anything to do, perhaps get the fans that worked with the heater to work independently from it? You know, to at least move the hot air around?
Well, they sent a guy from the district office to come in and take care of it.
He removed the thermostat.
Yeah, we are problem solvers here. Can't see the temperature, then it must not be that hot. Right?
Anyway, I'm in the hot room in the house, because I have to write two example poems. Used to be a time I loved this stuff. Now I just want to sit in a cold bath. Or a cold pool. Or an air-conditioned car. Doesn't that sound good?
Okay, back to work.
Still haven't decided what to do about this blog.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Perhaps it's time
So, the year is over. I'm no longer in the purple house, and wonder if I should retire this blog.
This is open to everyone, and there are things I'd like to say that perhaps everyone doesn't want to hear. This is not the place, even though man, I've got some rant inside me now. Major rantage.
But no, it's all positive, sunshine-y, happy day stuff here.
Not interesting, I know.
What to do? I'm waffling.
This is open to everyone, and there are things I'd like to say that perhaps everyone doesn't want to hear. This is not the place, even though man, I've got some rant inside me now. Major rantage.
But no, it's all positive, sunshine-y, happy day stuff here.
Not interesting, I know.
What to do? I'm waffling.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Boring Car Purchase Post
So, there are still bags all over the living room floor, and I've not even started to look at all the crap stuff I have in storage. That will happen after I get back from Vegas.
Buying the car was a big deal. I've never bought a car alone before, let alone a new car. I know, I'm a big girl now, but the last time I bought a car (with my sister's haggling help), I ended up in tears before the process was over. I was not looking forward to it.
However, it was rather painless, other than I was at the dealership from ten in the morning until about 5:30 at night. Yeah, it took some time. See, I'm the kind of person who likes to look up all the reviews on the car first, check out the blue book price, run the carfax on the Vin number so I know it's not been in a horrible accident or anything. That's what I did.
Thursday I went to three different car dealerships, but I wasn't finding anything I liked. The Toyota place didn't even have the Scion Xb that I thought I wanted. Not even to test drive. Not a good sales plan. They kept pushing the SUV type of car on me that I definitely don't want. At one point, even a used pt cruiser.
Now, I hope none of you have one of these, but that is one funny looking car. I hate them. I'm not actually too much into looks, but that one? Ew. It looks like something that the boys who drove the souped up El Dorados in high school would think was cool now that they are in their 40's. I can't even say why I think they're so ugly, but I do. And you know? All three dealerships had used ones for sale. And all three thought I might be interested.
Finally, I found a used Subaru wagon that seemed pretty much what I wanted. Low mileage, well-taken care of, one owner and all that. Manual drive, but no big deal, I've had one before, so I wasn't going to have to learn a new way of driving, right?
Went home, looked it up on the internet, checked the reviews and thought "Cool. I've found my car."
Came back Friday, and did the test drive.
Disappointment.
This was the most uncomfortable car to drive ever. I couldn't believe it. Every time I shifted into second or fourth gear, my elbow would hit the center arm rest (which was hard plastic). Bad. Okay, but that can be removed, right? Next, the steering wheel was at an almost 90 degree angle, and no, the "tilt control" didn't actually tilt it, just moved it up or down. I could tell I would not have happy wrists if I was driving more than five miles anywhere. Lastly, there was no where at all to rest my elbows. Even if the center arm rest was left in place, it was behind my arm (hence the elbow banging only when I shifted into the gears on the bottom of the stick shift). The window ledge was too high, and the arm rest on the door too low. Yech, yech, yech.
I had really wanted that car.
You know what? I'm boring myself. Let's cut to the end result.
I bought a black car. Made it very clear from the start I didn't want a black car. Nope, nope, nope. It gets too hot and shows the dirt. My landlady doesn't let us wash our cars in the driveway, so it won't be getting washed too often.
I wanted the bright blue or the chocolate brown or even the ice blue one.
None of which they had on the lot.
When $2000 was taken off the price, and the premium package thrown in for free (well, it was already on the model they had available), I decided that holding out and paying that much more for a color probably wasn't the most prudent thing. I accepted.
I own a black, Nissan Vesra Hatchback. I don't have a picture yet, but man, it's got bells and whistles. It's got an Ipod dock (hilarious for me, since as most of you know I won't support Ipod or Ipod products and their proprietary nature), a bluetooth set up (meaning that I can hook my phone up to my car. There's a microphone and everything), and all kinds of other tricks I've not figured out yet.
Payments start next month.
Guess there will be less shopping for shoes for the next five years.
I need to go lie down.
Buying the car was a big deal. I've never bought a car alone before, let alone a new car. I know, I'm a big girl now, but the last time I bought a car (with my sister's haggling help), I ended up in tears before the process was over. I was not looking forward to it.
However, it was rather painless, other than I was at the dealership from ten in the morning until about 5:30 at night. Yeah, it took some time. See, I'm the kind of person who likes to look up all the reviews on the car first, check out the blue book price, run the carfax on the Vin number so I know it's not been in a horrible accident or anything. That's what I did.
Thursday I went to three different car dealerships, but I wasn't finding anything I liked. The Toyota place didn't even have the Scion Xb that I thought I wanted. Not even to test drive. Not a good sales plan. They kept pushing the SUV type of car on me that I definitely don't want. At one point, even a used pt cruiser.
Now, I hope none of you have one of these, but that is one funny looking car. I hate them. I'm not actually too much into looks, but that one? Ew. It looks like something that the boys who drove the souped up El Dorados in high school would think was cool now that they are in their 40's. I can't even say why I think they're so ugly, but I do. And you know? All three dealerships had used ones for sale. And all three thought I might be interested.
Finally, I found a used Subaru wagon that seemed pretty much what I wanted. Low mileage, well-taken care of, one owner and all that. Manual drive, but no big deal, I've had one before, so I wasn't going to have to learn a new way of driving, right?
Went home, looked it up on the internet, checked the reviews and thought "Cool. I've found my car."
Came back Friday, and did the test drive.
Disappointment.
This was the most uncomfortable car to drive ever. I couldn't believe it. Every time I shifted into second or fourth gear, my elbow would hit the center arm rest (which was hard plastic). Bad. Okay, but that can be removed, right? Next, the steering wheel was at an almost 90 degree angle, and no, the "tilt control" didn't actually tilt it, just moved it up or down. I could tell I would not have happy wrists if I was driving more than five miles anywhere. Lastly, there was no where at all to rest my elbows. Even if the center arm rest was left in place, it was behind my arm (hence the elbow banging only when I shifted into the gears on the bottom of the stick shift). The window ledge was too high, and the arm rest on the door too low. Yech, yech, yech.
I had really wanted that car.
You know what? I'm boring myself. Let's cut to the end result.
I bought a black car. Made it very clear from the start I didn't want a black car. Nope, nope, nope. It gets too hot and shows the dirt. My landlady doesn't let us wash our cars in the driveway, so it won't be getting washed too often.
I wanted the bright blue or the chocolate brown or even the ice blue one.
None of which they had on the lot.
When $2000 was taken off the price, and the premium package thrown in for free (well, it was already on the model they had available), I decided that holding out and paying that much more for a color probably wasn't the most prudent thing. I accepted.
I own a black, Nissan Vesra Hatchback. I don't have a picture yet, but man, it's got bells and whistles. It's got an Ipod dock (hilarious for me, since as most of you know I won't support Ipod or Ipod products and their proprietary nature), a bluetooth set up (meaning that I can hook my phone up to my car. There's a microphone and everything), and all kinds of other tricks I've not figured out yet.
Payments start next month.
Guess there will be less shopping for shoes for the next five years.
I need to go lie down.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I'm home.
(count how many times I use the word "best")
Did this last year really happen?Luckily, G. picked me up at 7 in the morning to drive me to Heathrow and help me schlep my bags to the check-in counter. We did a bit of walking too; we went to terminal 3 when we were supposed to be at terminal 1. Oops. We had time for breakfast though, and I was really glad to have someone with me at the end (Thanks G. And no, it wasn't only the help with my luggage).
There are photos of me on Facebook with all my bags. It's weird that it's so much stuff, and yet I had to weed out all kinds of things to get it down to the six bags. Most people only had two or three bags. I don't know how they did it.
Got home at midnight after my brother and his wife picked me up at LAX. By the time I went to bed, I'd been up 27 hours, with only three hours of sleep the night before. Talk about jet lag.
I woke up Monday in my house, in my bed. Weird. No phone, no car, no computer. I was without a way to communicate, and that was double weird.
A friend came over with sunflowers; "I just couldn't wait!" and gave me one of the best hugs ever. It was a good start.
Mom drove me around all day, got my phone, picked up my computer, hooked up my internet and... PICKED UP CHARLIE. That was the best. God, I missed that little dog. He was cautious at first, and then jumped up on me like, "Where the heck have you been?" Auntie K. and Uncle T. took the best care of him while I was gone. Good people. The best. I don't know how to thank them properly. A gift certificate to a nice restaurant is what I'm thinking... but is it enough?
Yesterday I got the car rented (so I can drive around and look at cars to... eek... buy), went to lunch with sunflower friend, and shopped at Trader Joe's. I've been dreaming of the hand-tossed tortillas and the Gnocchi Gorgonzola for a year now. Got home, put the food in the fridge, hey, wait a minute. Why isn't the light on?
The electricity had been shut off. I'm home 36 hours and poof, no electricity. Guess the grace period has shortened. Call the company, and nope, won't be able to get it turned on until today. "Anywhere between 8 am and 5 pm" I was told. Great.
Bought a 20-pound bag of ice, put it in the fridge and hoped for the best.
Today, ran a bunch of errands, because well, with no power, there's no computer. And, lucky me, my sim card somehow got erased, and I've lost all the phone numbers of everyone who was in my address book, so I can't call anyone either. Argh.
Got home around 12:30, and there is the Edison truck. I get out and holler, "did everything go okay?"
No answer. I start walking toward the truck and it starts to leave. I wave my hands, "Wait! please wait!" and start running down the driveway after it...
As I watched from the end of my driveway, he drove away down the street. As expected, he checked the wrong meter, so I still had no electricity. Joy.
After two more calls, I finally got hooked up this evening. Of course, hanging around the house alone is not what I wanted to do this afternoon, but at least I have power.
I've not had time to think about what it's like to be home.
Ask me tomorrow.
Love,
Rebekah
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