Monday, September 10, 2012
Hmmm . . .
Well, this blog is about a couple different things. I thought I had a topic that would be really great but . . . well let's just say, I decided against it.
Anyway, I have finally signed up for Pinterest. Beth tried to get me on it before the wedding, but it didn't work out. Now I think I might be a little addicted. Its really a great way to collect and "steal" ideas. I just started a day ago and I already have 6 boards. My boards are, gardening, food, school ideas, things I want and things I want to remember, and a special board for Holidays. I have found so many ideas for so many things I am a little overwhelmed. But I can't wait to see what is there tomorrow.
Today is National Suicide Prevention Day. I can't help but remember, every time I here that word, about my cousin. He killed himself many years ago. I wasn't as close to him as I could have been, as I should have been. I have no idea what he was going through that would make him think that was the only way. I wonder, if I had been around, would I have seen some sign? Was there some way to prevent this and our whole family just missed it?
I don't have the answers. But I know, if there is someone in your family that is dealing with bullies or always seems to be depressed, talk to that person. Let them know you care about them and that you are available to talk anytime. Don't let another day go by without telling them you love them.
I know that someone is reading, but I would love to know who you are. Please leave me a comment if you read this blog.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Nothing to say, except . . .
I didn't believe it. But the weatherman was right! We actually sat outside in the backyard today. It was nice. Still about 80 degrees or more, but there was a nice breeze. Even the cat enjoyed a bit of a romp in the yard today. It was truly a beautiful day. I'm hoping this is the turning point, but . . . this is just not likely to happen. I believe this is just a little tease.
But what I really need to say is this: It is the 9th of September. In two days we will see the anniversary of our Nation's Greatest tragedy. I am distressed that, 11 years later, I still worry about being downtown on this anniversary. I know that we have made tremendous strides toward eliminating the threat of further attacks. And I am thrilled that the one responsible, the person who gave the order, has been killed. But I have to admit I am still scared. Scared of the one small cell that has not been detected.
Fear is a dangerous thing. We all know that fear can paralyze a person and cause him to make bad decisions. Fear can drive a group of people to do incredibly cruel things. Fear can also cause a Nation to make poor decisions.
It was a bad decision to go to war with Iraq. There were no weapons of mass destruction. That was incorrect information. And rather than wait until correct information could be gathered, we rushed into a war. A war that we did not need to be involved in. This decision was based on Fear and on oil. Fear of Sudam Hussein kept us from focusing on the real enemies. And fear that we would not get that precious oil is what kept us in the war for years after we knew that we had been deceived. There is a plan in place. A plan that will have us done with the real enemies in 2014, but now there is a chance that we will not be done at all. A chance that poor, fear-based decision making will drag our nation into another ill-advised war.
Fear of the "Illegal Alien" has cause normally sane men to grab their guns to patrol a line in the dirt. I suppose, if that is what they want to do with their time, its ok . . . until they kill someone. But my question is this: How many of the hijackers swam the Red River? How many of them crossed from Mexico at all? I don't know the answer, but I'd be willing to bet it wasn't many of them. So, the guy swimming the river is just a guy looking for a better life. . . just like the members of your family who first came to this country. Just another immigrant who doesn't know the language, yet. Why are you scared of him? Is he really likely to take your job? Are you a migrant farm worker? Is your job really in jeopardy from the uneducated guy swimming a river? Are you scared of his children? Fear is a jealous monster.
We are, in just a few weeks, going to make another decision as a nation. We will be deciding who is going to lead our country. I can only hope that fear won't be the deciding factor. Fear is a destroyer. Don't be scared. Please make your decision based on facts, not on Fears -- Not on lies.
But what I really need to say is this: It is the 9th of September. In two days we will see the anniversary of our Nation's Greatest tragedy. I am distressed that, 11 years later, I still worry about being downtown on this anniversary. I know that we have made tremendous strides toward eliminating the threat of further attacks. And I am thrilled that the one responsible, the person who gave the order, has been killed. But I have to admit I am still scared. Scared of the one small cell that has not been detected.
Fear is a dangerous thing. We all know that fear can paralyze a person and cause him to make bad decisions. Fear can drive a group of people to do incredibly cruel things. Fear can also cause a Nation to make poor decisions.
It was a bad decision to go to war with Iraq. There were no weapons of mass destruction. That was incorrect information. And rather than wait until correct information could be gathered, we rushed into a war. A war that we did not need to be involved in. This decision was based on Fear and on oil. Fear of Sudam Hussein kept us from focusing on the real enemies. And fear that we would not get that precious oil is what kept us in the war for years after we knew that we had been deceived. There is a plan in place. A plan that will have us done with the real enemies in 2014, but now there is a chance that we will not be done at all. A chance that poor, fear-based decision making will drag our nation into another ill-advised war.
Fear of the "Illegal Alien" has cause normally sane men to grab their guns to patrol a line in the dirt. I suppose, if that is what they want to do with their time, its ok . . . until they kill someone. But my question is this: How many of the hijackers swam the Red River? How many of them crossed from Mexico at all? I don't know the answer, but I'd be willing to bet it wasn't many of them. So, the guy swimming the river is just a guy looking for a better life. . . just like the members of your family who first came to this country. Just another immigrant who doesn't know the language, yet. Why are you scared of him? Is he really likely to take your job? Are you a migrant farm worker? Is your job really in jeopardy from the uneducated guy swimming a river? Are you scared of his children? Fear is a jealous monster.
We are, in just a few weeks, going to make another decision as a nation. We will be deciding who is going to lead our country. I can only hope that fear won't be the deciding factor. Fear is a destroyer. Don't be scared. Please make your decision based on facts, not on Fears -- Not on lies.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Grandmas Shouldn't wear Bootypants!
I watched Anderson Cooper earlier this week. They repeated a show from January, I think. The topic was something about rude people. Well, We took a family trip to Kemah and I want to tell you, rudeness is alive and well.
I saw line cutters. A couple of kids tried to skip us in line at the Pharaoh's Fury ride. They said "But our friends are up there." I told them that wasn't going to work for me. Ian and I held our ground and they decided, after I gave them the "mean teacher" stare, that they could wait.
I saw people screaming at their kids. One lady, who had several kids, seemed to be following us around. I heard her scream at her youngest at least three times. Apparently the little one didn't want to keep getting out of her stroller to go on rides. And every time they stopped, (at the train, the tower, & the carousel) the little girl started crying. Instead of talking to her, or picking her up, or taking the child home for a nap, the woman screamed in her face. Which of course made the baby cry more. Some people really need some anger management and/or parenting classes.
How hard is it to tell your kids "No!"? There are signs posted all over the boardwalk that say "Don't feed the birds. They are on a strict diet." These signs are posted for the express purpose of keeping the birds from crapping on people. But this awesome group of people decided to feed the birds anyway. While standing right in front of one of the signs, they allowed their children to throw bread and fries at the birds. A huge group of birds surrounded the area where they were standing and over the bench where Doug and I were siting. Can you guess what happened next? Of course you can. Doug was wearing a hat and I wasn't . . . so who got crapped on? Yes, it was me. I had a few choice words for those parents, but thankfully, I kept them to myself.
And the most outrageous, was the granny in the skin tight booty jeans. Oh my goodness! I almost choked when I saw her the first time -- from behind. Her booty pooched out as if she had stuffed half a bowling ball in her pants on each side where her buttocks should be. I'm not saying she was overweight at all. But when I saw her again it was so difficult not to laugh out loud. She was standing next to another woman. They were dressed as twins, but there was obviously 20 years difference in their ages. Now, I have to admit, I am not at all in shape myself. And I'm sure there were skinny people there trying not to laugh out loud at the fat lady trying to ride the rides with the munchkin. But I do NOT stuff myself into tight clothes, and those pants were so tight if you poked her with a pin they would have exploded like a balloon. Normal butts are just not that shape. She looked like she was something out of a cartoon. Frankly, grannies are just not supposed to dress that way. And no, I did not tell her so, but somebody should have before she left the house.
My Blog . . . My Opinion!!
I saw line cutters. A couple of kids tried to skip us in line at the Pharaoh's Fury ride. They said "But our friends are up there." I told them that wasn't going to work for me. Ian and I held our ground and they decided, after I gave them the "mean teacher" stare, that they could wait.
I saw people screaming at their kids. One lady, who had several kids, seemed to be following us around. I heard her scream at her youngest at least three times. Apparently the little one didn't want to keep getting out of her stroller to go on rides. And every time they stopped, (at the train, the tower, & the carousel) the little girl started crying. Instead of talking to her, or picking her up, or taking the child home for a nap, the woman screamed in her face. Which of course made the baby cry more. Some people really need some anger management and/or parenting classes.
How hard is it to tell your kids "No!"? There are signs posted all over the boardwalk that say "Don't feed the birds. They are on a strict diet." These signs are posted for the express purpose of keeping the birds from crapping on people. But this awesome group of people decided to feed the birds anyway. While standing right in front of one of the signs, they allowed their children to throw bread and fries at the birds. A huge group of birds surrounded the area where they were standing and over the bench where Doug and I were siting. Can you guess what happened next? Of course you can. Doug was wearing a hat and I wasn't . . . so who got crapped on? Yes, it was me. I had a few choice words for those parents, but thankfully, I kept them to myself.
And the most outrageous, was the granny in the skin tight booty jeans. Oh my goodness! I almost choked when I saw her the first time -- from behind. Her booty pooched out as if she had stuffed half a bowling ball in her pants on each side where her buttocks should be. I'm not saying she was overweight at all. But when I saw her again it was so difficult not to laugh out loud. She was standing next to another woman. They were dressed as twins, but there was obviously 20 years difference in their ages. Now, I have to admit, I am not at all in shape myself. And I'm sure there were skinny people there trying not to laugh out loud at the fat lady trying to ride the rides with the munchkin. But I do NOT stuff myself into tight clothes, and those pants were so tight if you poked her with a pin they would have exploded like a balloon. Normal butts are just not that shape. She looked like she was something out of a cartoon. Frankly, grannies are just not supposed to dress that way. And no, I did not tell her so, but somebody should have before she left the house.
My Blog . . . My Opinion!!
Friday, September 7, 2012
Well Here I Go . . .
I need something to do. I'm tired of sitting at home waiting by the phone for a job to fall in my lap. I'm getting more and more depressed, day by day. And there is no cure for the situation except for going to work. The boredom is excruciating. I feel my brain cells committing suicide while I watch Maury, again and again, say "According to the DNA test 'so and so' you are not the father."
If one of my friends came to me with this problem, this boredom, I would tell them to get out and do something. I would take them out to lunch or to a movie. But all of my friends are working and they don't have time to take in a movie. They are getting to know their new students. Which only makes this so much more sad.
I wouldn't be bored at all if I had a classroom to go to each day. If I were getting to know my new students as all the other teachers I know are doing this month, I would be happy. If I were planning lessons, grading papers and calling parents I wouldn't have time to be bored out of my mind. If I had a job, I wouldn't be at home when Maury is on.
So I will write. I will write everyday. I will write about anything, everything, and nothing at all. If somebody reads it, great. If nobody reads it, even better.
I will write about the movie I'm watching: Julie & Julia. My inspiration. The reason I decided to start a blog. I've seen the movie before. I thought, at the time, that "I can do that. I can write a blog." But the truth is, at the time, I didn't have the time. I actually had a job. I have no idea when that woman found time to sleep.
That's all for now . . . .
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