tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76845266210825316572024-03-05T04:05:40.020-08:00Mostly Charmed LifeThe most basic thoughts of a most basic girlGiordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-33841959388362216362010-08-15T20:29:00.000-07:002010-08-15T20:54:22.952-07:00Snotty church services<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I'm mad at my pastor.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Not for the normal reasons like heresy, preaching politics or neglecting to fully recognize the adorableness that is my son.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">No, no. It's worse than that.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She made me cry in church. Which I hate to do.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It all started fine. This was her first Sunday back after maternity leave and I was just stoked to have her back. It's always a little sketchy when you have guest preachers. They don't know you; you don't know them. You don't know if they're going to say something off-color or talk for hours. But Beth is predictable. First, you know she's going to speak the word of the Lord without sugar-coating it. She's engaging and sometimes funny, but not in that stand-up club type way. And she never drones on and on. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She was talking about being prepared for Jesus, but not just in that "Jesus is coming tomorrow and he better find you on your knees" way. She talked about being ready to see Him and see Him work daily and about being prepared to be guided by His spirit. So at the end of the sermon, she showed a video. It begins with an elevenish old girl tell her name and saying that her daddy is in Iraq. Then it shows this same girl sitting in school with her very best I'm-paying-attention look on her face. Then you see confusion. Then unabashed joy as she jumps up from her seat and runs screaming into the arms of a bulking G.I. Joe type. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">And the tears started to flow.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But it doesn't end there. Oh, no. This video torture goes on for near five minutes with all kinds of unexpected reunions. Husbands, wives, moms, dads, kids. Everyone. Luckily I had Karen sitting behind me and she offered me a Kleenex. I would have been a hot mess otherwise.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">The point of the video as it relates to Beth's sermon, aside from making a whole congregation a blubbering mess, was to show that we don't know when our Father will show up. We just need to be ready.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But I saw something else too. There was one scene that particularly turned on the faucets. It was around Christmas and a little tiny girl is sitting on Santa's lap. She can't be more than two or three. I've already figured out the theme to the video and I think to myself, "She's not going to know him. She won't remember that he's her dad."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But then she turns. Her eyes get big and she whispers, "Daddy?" He scoops her up and you hear her mumble through the bear hug, "I missed you."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">She knew her dad. She really knew him. Even though she probably hadn't seen him in a long time. Which means that we'll know Him too. Even if we think we haven't seen Him in a long time. Even if we think we haven't see Him move in our lives and use us in a long time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It was beautiful. And messy and snotty and I still kind of want to smack Beth for showing it with no warning. I mean, really? No warning?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But, wow.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-54220950057842140932010-03-31T07:48:00.000-07:002010-03-31T07:56:25.803-07:00Food Choices<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Last weekend was Jack's 2nd birthday and my mom brought up some yummy frosted cookies my friend Glenna makes. They're sugar cookies in adorable shapes and all decorated in fun colors. So cute and so yummy. If you want to check them out you should look up www.cookiesbytasteofheaven.com. Commercial over.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">At dinner last night we were trying to get Jack to eat something decent but he had cookies on his mind and he knows where they are. He was repeatedly asking for one and we were suggesting other things he could eat before he had a cookie. Here's how the conversation went:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Me: Do you want some strawberries?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Jack: Cookie.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Me: Yogurt?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Jack: Cookie</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Me: How 'bout some peas?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Jack: BIG cookie!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">As if to say my suggestion of peas was so ridiculous that it warranted an even more substantial reply. Eventually, he got what he wanted.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-82766885287042847422010-03-13T19:02:00.000-08:002010-03-13T19:18:22.506-08:00New Obsession<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Many of you know that looking at houses with great design is something I love. In fact, I just like looking at houses in general. I can often be found looking at real estate websites just to see what's for sale. It's like snooping in other people's houses with permission. I love to see the layout, the decor, the view and to make fun of ugly carpet and curtains. Seriously, what are some people thinking?</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">So it's no surprise that I picked up a home design magazine that's based out of Seattle. I love houses and I love local things so this was perfect. To be quite honest, the magazine was less than thrilling, but there was an ad in the back for a local pre-fab company.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">Many of you (by this, I mean my mom) might think that pre-fabs are hokey and cheap and you'd be right some of the time. But the ones made by Stillwater Dwellings are beautiful. They're quite environmentally friendly, by that I mean the materials, appliances, heating and cooling methods, etc. They have a very modern look, so if this is your thing, you should definitely take a peek. Be warned, however. There are all sorts of floor plans to look at, as well as the option to choose different living sections, bedroom sections and connectors to create your own layout. Addicting. I'm already coveting a few floor plans. Luckily for Nate, we can't afford it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">The best part may be that there are three style options, which means that people with great taste and a knack for design have put together all the cosmetic stuff that looks good together to take all the guess work out of building a new house. I think it would be so overwhelming to figure out all the fixtures and flooring and tile and trim in and actually make it look cohesive. Of course, some people may hate this because they don't have much choice. I, personally, love it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;">So, if you've got some time, mosey on over to www.<a href="http://www.stillwaterdwellings.com">stillwaterdwellings.com</a>. It's just so lovely.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-25160875573533818942010-03-05T13:08:00.000-08:002010-03-05T13:13:46.352-08:00"Sick" Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I'm home today with Jack because he's sick and it just might be the best sick day there has ever been. Here's why:</span><div><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">It's sunny and over 50 degrees with hardly any wind. March doesn't get any better around here.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">He has pink eye, which means he's not feeling yucky at all. He's actually in a great mood. It's just that he's so contagious he can't go to daycare.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Today was a "no kid" day at school because we had reading and math meetings all day. This means I didn't have to write sub plans, nor did I have to wake up early in order to do so. Sub plans are the worst.</span></li></ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">I only have one more sick day left, thanks to my darling child. So I'm glad I could make this one count.</span></div></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-82408173772383022752009-12-30T12:28:00.000-08:002009-12-30T12:58:54.380-08:00Pro Cert Blues<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This school year, as is required by the wonderful state of Washington, I'm doing my Professional Certification. In a nutshell, it is a portfolio that all new teachers have to put together, guided by module questions, to prove that we are, in fact, capable of doing the job we've been doing for several years. And we have to pay for it. Awesome.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Sometimes I wonder how this came to be. Who on earth would ever think of such a requirement for new, underpaid teachers? The answer: <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bureaucrats</span>. Only <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bureaucrats</span> could come up with something this silly. In my head, it went a little something like this (cue fantasy music)....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bureaucrat</span> Schmuck #1: Hey, I've noticed that our state test scores are really low. What are we going to do about this?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Bureaucrat Schmuck #2: Well, we already have high state standards from which all our teachers teach and our universities have strict expectations.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Bureaucrat Schmuck #3: We could encourage parents to play a more active role in their children's education, or have them turn off the TV and video games, or fund all the programs we require.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #1: Nah. It's probably the teachers' fault. We should require more of them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S # 3: You mean more than the 60+ hours most of them put in every week, and their being available to parents and the obnoxiously low pay?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #2: Yeah, they should have to go to more school. You know, to prove that they actually learned what they learned in college. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #1: I like that idea. We could give them all kinds of requirements, little to no support, no timeline and of course, they should have to do it while still working a full-time job. And they should do all this in their first five years of teaching. Sounds great!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #3: Wow, it sounds really expensive. How are we going to pay for this?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #2: The individual teachers will pay for it, of course. We can't go wasting our money on teacher education.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #3: Hmmmm... young teachers don't make much money and many of them are still paying off student loans. Does that seem fair?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #1: Fair? What does that have to do with anything?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S: #3: Well, okay. But do you really think the teachers are the reason for low test scores? They seem to be putting in a lot of time and effort.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #2: Are you suggesting that the problem is with students and parents? HA! No Child Left Behind tells us that all kids can perform at grade level.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #1: Yeah, it's not as if lack of parent support, poor diet, language barriers, learning disabilities, unhealthy sleep habits, abuse or neglect have anything to do with test scores. Come on!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #3: I guess you're right. But if we're going to require all this work, these teachers will at least get some major college credits or an increase of pay, right. Just like getting a master's?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #2: Are you serious? No way! We're doing this for their own good. They'll thank us later for all the hours and money spent. It will make them <i>feel</i> like better teachers. And that's what's important.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">B S #1: Amen!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-34058919549590581322009-10-24T11:51:00.000-07:002009-10-24T12:19:21.040-07:00Tootin' My Own Horn<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I found out yesterday that I got a position I submitted for. Whew! Not that I had any competition, so really I got it by default.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, fantasy;">It's the English-speaking half of the 4th grade Dual Language. Our school has been growing our DL program each year by one grade and 4th grade come next. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">This couldn't have come at a better time. I've been beyond frustrated and overwhelmed with education lately. It seems like there are always meetings and trainings and paper work and parents to talk to and lessons to plan and implement. It's exhausting. And no matter how much I work, how many papers I bring home and how many hours I stay late or come early, it never ends. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">I had started to think that maybe teaching wasn't for me. Of course, I'm absolutely useless outside of the classroom. I have no skills whatsoever besides teaching other people's kids. Truly. So what would I even do?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">But with this new job, I'll essentially have two classes. I'll teach reading, two blocks of math and writing/literacy. All in English. My Spanish counterpart who has yet to be hired will teach reading, two blocks of science/social studies, and writing/literacy. We'll have one class in the morning and then will switch for the afternoon. What makes this so great for me is that I don't have as many lesson plans because I don't have to teach science and social studies (I hate teaching social studies!) and I get to teach math, which is my favorite. I know, weird.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">I also really love the whole idea behind Dual Language. Kids get to learn in their first language which research shows is better for all kids, they then transfer that knowledge to the language their learning, become more sensitive to other cultures and languages, and by the end of 6th grade are fully bilingual and biliterate. Of course, I think most kids are still stronger in English just because it's all around them. That means that our Spanish speaking kiddos don't have to give up their home language to be successful and can take pride in their culture and language. It also means that both English and Spanish speakers are more ready for the global economy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">All that to say, I think I'm more ready to stick with education for a while. And I'm stoked to teach 4th grade again. Third graders bug me.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-38640054537337023632009-08-31T20:53:00.000-07:002009-08-31T20:59:42.411-07:00Back in the saddle again<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We had our "Meet the Teacher" night tonight. Shockingly, well over half of my class showed up to get a glimpse of the lady who will be running their lives for the next 10 months. Last year, I think four kids showed up.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Most of the kids seem very sweet. They answered my nosy questions politely and then shyly hid behind their parents. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">I had one mom, however, who said this upon taking her leave, "I hope we won't have to see too much of each other this year." As in, "I know my kid is a brat and we'll be in contact for sure but I'm hoping that he's not too obnoxiously misbehaved that we have to hang out <i>all</i> the time." That's what she wanted to say.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-60522121625739610372009-08-24T14:19:00.000-07:002009-08-24T14:31:56.171-07:00For those of you who are really bored<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Three Things</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three names I go by:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. Giordi</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. Mrs. Yunge </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Geebs</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three jobs I've had:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. Teacher</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. State Park worker</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Babysitter</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three places I've lived:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. Prosser</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. Nampa</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Burlington</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three favorite drinks:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. Water (yep, I'm <i>that</i> boring)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. Mojitos</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Iced tea</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three television shows I watch:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. The Office</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. Jeopardy</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Ugly Betty</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three of my favorite foods:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. frozen chocolate chips</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. Stir-fry with lots of veggies</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. raspberries</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three of my favorite restaurants:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. Buenos Aires Grille</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. Burlington Cafe</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Arby's</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three things I couldn't live without:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. lotion</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. clean towels</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. cell phone</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three things I can't stand:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. using a dirty/wet hand towel</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. people/things sitting on my unmade bed</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. poor table manners</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three things I'm decent at:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. cooking</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. teaching</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. napping</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three things I'm looking forward to this weekend:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. my parents' visit</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. getting our back handrail up</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Beth preaching at church again</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Three things I'm addicted to:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">1. chocolate</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">2. my husband</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">3. Facebook (Ugghhh! I hate that I said that.)</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-62873660621122331482009-06-24T21:42:00.000-07:002009-06-24T22:14:40.806-07:00Really?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sometimes I want to be a stay-at-home mom.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">And then I have days like yesterday and I remember that I'm not tough enough.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">I brought Jack into the bathroom with me like I usually do to take a shower. I get the garbage out of reach, bring some toys in (although he prefers to play peek-a-boo with the shower curtain and play with tampons), and close the door to prevent escape. We were both doing our thing and I closed my eyes for the ten seconds it takes me to rinse out the conditioner and when I opened them, there is my darling boy standing in the tub with me. In his pajamas. Awesome. He stealthily climbed into my shower fully clothed and diapered. So I had to strip him down and finish my shower with him screaming at me to hold him, as he doesn't really like being in the shower. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">After I got both of us dried off and myself wrapped up in a robe that doesn't fit (more on that later), I took him to his room to get dressed. Upon completion, I started picking up stray objects only to turn around and see him standing on the rocking chair knowing that any second he'd fall and kill himself. So I get him down and continue my cleaning and when I turn around again, he's digging in the dirty diaper pail. Gross. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">After we get that all sorted out, I shut his bedroom door and took him into the living room to play with his toys while I attempted to put myself together. I came out after a few minutes and noticed he was eating something. A stray Cheerio or graham cracker, you ask? No, it was orange and rather stringy. That's when I realize that he's been chewing on our old orange chair that needs to be reupholstered desperately. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">Are you kidding me? All of this happened in a fifteen minute time span and I'm running around in a robe that keeps falling off my shoulders and won't stay tied. (There's an image you wanted in your head.) It was like having twins and a puppy at the same time. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">We eventually get out the door, because, as my mom advised I "just needed to get into to public. I'll be nicer to him in public." We went to the library for a little play group. It was our first time attending and I didn't know what to expect. There really wasn't much to it, just other moms and their little kids. Jack was the only boy. Consequently, he was the only kid who didn't sit nicely by his mama and play gently. Oh, no. He was the screeching kid running at full hilt who was throwing little plastic balls all over the place. That's my little gentleman. He actually wasn't being naughty, just energetic. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">But then he saw it. A stroller that wasn't his. A stroller he could easily climb. Did I mention he's a climber? Yeah, he climbs <i>everything</i>. So for a while, I let him climb the thing. He wasn't hurting anything, mostly just sitting in the seat. Then he decided to stand up. Not okay. So I pulled him off of it over and over again. Every time he squealed and ran right back to it. Then I tried facing it toward the wall and dropping the tray to make it more difficult to climb into it. No good. He just crawled right over that tray and screamed some more when I dragged him off of it. So charming.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">It was one of those times when you feel that all the other moms are wondering why I can't get control of my obnoxious child and why I let him act like such a brat. But that's the thing, he's not a brat. He gets lots of loving, firm and consistent discipline. He's almost always well-behaved. But if there is something to climb, dang it, he's going to climb it. End of story.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;">So, to all you stay-at-home moms, nice work. I really look up to you. And you deserve a break once in a while. And contrary to what you may be thinking, I really do love my little terror fiercely. He's great fun. He just drives me nuts sometimes.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-82482821355861821222009-06-14T21:25:00.000-07:002009-06-14T21:55:15.919-07:00The Post I've Been Avoiding<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I said in my last post that I'd explain my (very) prolonged absence from the blogging world. I wish I wouldn't have because then I wouldn't have to try to put to words all this stuff that's been swimming in my head and heart. And also Sarah Culver wouldn't be bugging me to post again. But I did say that so here it goes:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I gave up blogging for Lent. I know what you're thinking: Lent ended months ago. It's time to get back in the saddle. But the whole process didn't quite work the way I intended. I wanted to have this beautiful spiritual experience wherein my abstaining from blogging and all other social-network type things would give me the chance to really draw closer to God and become wrapped up in Him. It didn't work that way.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Don't get me wrong, I haven't rejected my faith and become some sort of demon-worshipping heathen who sacrifices small animals, but it just wasn't what I wanted. Of course, it's my fault. Instead of taking my normal blogging time to hang out with Jesus and really dive into the Word, I found other things to do. There were always laundry or dishes or Office episodes just calling my name. And those voices seemed to be louder than His. At least, I chose to listen to those voices more often.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I did try sometimes and I don't know about you, but I've never been a great pray-er. You know how there are some people who seem to just melt into prayer as if it's totally natural to them, as if it's what they were meant to do? I'm not one of them. I know I'm meant for constant communication with my God but sometimes my mind just drifts and eventually I'm planning the next week's math lessons or making a mental grocery list. So needless to say, I was pretty discouraged when Lent ended and wasn't looking forward to the prospect of explaining my absence from my blogging. But I also know that part of really sinking into communication with God is being honest. This is a start.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Nate and I recently took a class at church about Wesley's Three Simple Rules (how Nazarene <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">are</span> we?? I'm almost embarrassed!) This class really challenged me. The rules aren't simple at all: Do no harm, Do good, and Stay in love with God. If you really start thinking about them, it can get your head spinning. I mean, how do you never do any harm? What if it's unintentional? What if you think you're doing good and actually doing harm? What about corporate harm? Yikes!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So we finally got to the Stay in Love with God part and I have to admit, this didn't excite me as much initially. I tend to shy away from the really personal parts of Christianity. I love discussing how to be a Christian in community and what it truly means to show love to all, even non-Christians or those we don't agree with. I have a terrible tendency to get all wrapped up in the politics and socio-economic facets of it. Terrible. That's not what it's about, really.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">When we started talking about different acts of devotion like worship, prayer, communion, fellowship, etc I saw things differently, especially prayer. I realized that I don't have to do those long, drawn out, churchy prayers. I don't have to use a formula. I can just be and if I drift, God still loves me. I also learned a new way to keep myself in focus: I say over and over again "Lord have mercy; Christ have mercy" and instead of praying words for every situation, I pray mercy over all these situations through images. It's so simple and yet so transforming. Praying for mercy in all circumstances truly changes my motives. I'm praying for God's will and grace in all.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">This isn't to say that I've got the whole praying thing figured out. I'm still working on it and there are lots of times that I have to force myself to put everything else aside and just spend time with my Creator. 'Cause I need His mercy too.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-85778505454067815432009-04-26T19:11:00.000-07:002009-04-26T20:01:59.054-07:00New Faves<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I've been MIA. I'll 'splain later. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">But for now, I just have to let you all in on my newest obsession. For those of you who don't know this about me, I have a tendency to go through "phases." These phases can involve all kinds of things: foods I eat over and over again (Cheerios was a big one when I was pregnant. I've also eaten yogurt and fresh berries like it's going out of style), shoes, different types of clothes (cotton peasant skirts, anyone?), and websites. I get this obsessive side from my dad. My brother, Cade, has it in him too. I think it drives my mom nuts.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Well, these new obsession are websites. Oh, dear, I could spend all day on both. The first is Overstock.com. I know what some of you are thinking: "Umm...hello, Giordi? Welcome to 2005. Where have you been?" And the answer is: I don't know. I mean, I had heard about it but never meandered over. The other day there was an add for it while I was checking the news and since I had nothing better to do, I meandered. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Wow. All that wonderful furniture and bedding. All those shoes. I could literally spend hours just looking. I don't need to buy anything. I'm happy just to look and dream. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">The other I found in a home decor magazine. It's called sproost.com and the basic idea is that you take a short style quiz by looking at various rooms to determine what your aesthetic is. Brilliant! It's so fun, I've done it twice. So then when you're finished, it tells you what your style combination is (mine is Vintage Modern/Contemporary with a hint of Cottage Chic) and how you can decorate accordingly. They also give you some ideas of things to buy you might like, and let me tell you, they were spot-on with me. Of course, that doesn't mean you need to buy anything, and I certainly won't at those prices but it's fun to look anyway. And it's nice to have a direction to head when decorating. I always feel so scattered and this helps me focus a little.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So, if you've got a few minutes, you should head on over to these sites. Way fun. Total waste of time.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-291195864016923312009-02-02T06:34:00.000-08:002009-02-02T06:54:55.446-08:00Sicko<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Thursday wasn't a good day.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">It didn't start off so badly. It was pretty normal, actually. But around 1:00 I got a call at school from Jack's babysitter who told me that he had thrown up, seemed to have a fever, and just wasn't being himself. Great.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Luckily, I could get a sub in quickly and I picked him up by 1:30. He already had a weight check appointment later that day but I called the doctor's office to see if they could get him in any earlier and if he could see a real doctor. They were so helpful and they squeezed him in about an hour earlier than he would have been. So the two of us went home for a while to wait until it was time to go. Jack slept most of the time and the rest of the time he just lay on my shoulder. He really wasn't feeling well at all.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">About twenty minutes before our appointment, I got the boy all loaded up in the car, grabbed the purse and diaper bag and reached for my keys that are always in my purse. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Hmmm... no keys.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">They were in the house. The locked house. The locked house that has no spare hidden anywhere for such an occasion. It's a good thing I didn't lock the car earlier so at least we could sit in the car while we waited for the locksmith to come rescue us. As we were waiting, I called the doctor's office to let them know we'd be a little late. The locksmith people assured me that someone would be over within five to ten minutes and they didn't lie.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">The only problem was that in the short time we had to wait, Jack started fussing in his car seat so I picked him up to cuddle him for a while. That's when it came. All the food the child has ever eaten came spewing out of his mouth and onto both of us. It was smelly. It was slimy. It was completely disgusting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So here we are, sitting in the car, covered in baby vomit, locked out of our own house, and late for an appointment. The locksmith eventually gets here (hallelujah!) and promptly lets us in. I apologized for the smell and in all his nineteen-year-old superiority says, "Yeah, you've got something on your pants." Thanks, dude.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So we get in the house, change (Jack into his pajamas and me out of my dry-clean only work clothes. Bummer.) and hit the road. By this time, we're about 45 minutes late, which means we could have made the first appointment beautifully. They are still gracious enough to fit us in somewhere and we find out the Jack is gaining weight but that he's got some bug that we just have to wait out. We did make it home without incident, though.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I thought that this would just be a quick little thing, but he's still been acting sick. He threw up a few times yesterday and is still acting like he feels terrible this morning, which is why I'm home now. Poor kid. Hopefully we can take care of it. And hopefully we can do so without anymore major puking incidents. We'll see.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-42459716825754552832008-12-20T20:27:00.000-08:002008-12-21T10:17:47.667-08:00Snow day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQ1EKFHmo7i6yy39VScm0mdn78-XPXNx85DsAXO0e-gGKSvB7Vyi6ScWACFzN3vBY44hDb5-jmZ0BOauKJ2ACoEgvo3jdgwaXQp3oz-AE9W6iysu42WqXh3OcK1gi7PjsYr9us19BkZ0/s1600-h/100_0337.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQ1EKFHmo7i6yy39VScm0mdn78-XPXNx85DsAXO0e-gGKSvB7Vyi6ScWACFzN3vBY44hDb5-jmZ0BOauKJ2ACoEgvo3jdgwaXQp3oz-AE9W6iysu42WqXh3OcK1gi7PjsYr9us19BkZ0/s320/100_0337.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282099939049938322" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Jack is sitting in a sled his grandpa rigged up. He doesn't seem too excited about it.</span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bP-PQLFjgOVbVzLuhOV8ZL8pXaeX8gzg1XzHxw8iJ87SD2TUitDtz1soTTcCprhVZxtli3MV4rbfwumrnG3YDkHjJqP0iZQtx8ij4kTVRaw0soILPdRDkju9JkakMXGUBI_ghbYBlw4/s1600-h/snow+hike+026.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bP-PQLFjgOVbVzLuhOV8ZL8pXaeX8gzg1XzHxw8iJ87SD2TUitDtz1soTTcCprhVZxtli3MV4rbfwumrnG3YDkHjJqP0iZQtx8ij4kTVRaw0soILPdRDkju9JkakMXGUBI_ghbYBlw4/s320/snow+hike+026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282099940264409842" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The dogs attacked Nik and I as we were making snow angels.</span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5Rm14N3oXQx3R3WVUJFJulh7CBSJ7ghW2D2XV9yAW527ML_EW2u-4YWXhfiTBrnl7vUSd71LhWe44dRe9XsHH57kU_VyeGxtGOOVjxuwsxQQu0l1NusCbuQy1QPeXh9At9d210wX_xk/s1600-h/snow+hike+023-1.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div></span></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTuGZ64QpYW1IZcqDvC4TMoSjtpDfdYw1kDu-jx-HbRHePRnTo0cw1JzcPViR-3iwNqvvjJ58B8DfUCcG4tuxQqRpBPTpUZOhzqiUxMM_gepnPvCemO8dJDKxN2rn02-4jUaQAlZawck/s1600-h/snow+hike+021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTuGZ64QpYW1IZcqDvC4TMoSjtpDfdYw1kDu-jx-HbRHePRnTo0cw1JzcPViR-3iwNqvvjJ58B8DfUCcG4tuxQqRpBPTpUZOhzqiUxMM_gepnPvCemO8dJDKxN2rn02-4jUaQAlZawck/s320/snow+hike+021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282099930079197810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Notice Jack's white-trash boots. We didn't have anything else and I guess they worked just fine.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Just in case you were wondering, last week was the best week ever, educationally speaking. Because of the snow, we had a two-hour delay on Monday, a one-hour delay on Tuesday, and no school on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Does it get any better than that??</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Today, we finally got with the program and went outside to play in the snow. After running all over town, we met Nate's sister and brother-in-law, Nikolai and Brad, and their daughter, Cherith, at Beau and Beth's house. All of us, minus Beau due to some major issues at the church (I'll just tell you that the front doors were frozen shut and you can use your imagination with the rest), walked up to the golf course to do a little sledding.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We didn't actually sled much because the kiddos were cold and Beth had some work to do, but the walk was beautiful and well worth it. If the snow sticks around, I'd like to go back up next week too. It looks like I'll get the chance since we've got over a foot of snow on the ground and currently it's blowing about a million miles an hour and snowing like crazy. I feel like I live at the north pole.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Here are some pictures of our day.</span></div></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-37919181026086523462008-12-17T14:37:00.000-08:002008-12-17T14:42:03.428-08:00Oh, the weather outside is frightful...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">It's snowing like crazy out there today. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Which means both Nate and I got a snow day. Yea! I just love those. It's still snowing at our house, although it's raining in Mount Vernon. Weird. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">But the forecast is for more snow and freezing temperatures so that should make the roads nice and slick for tomorrow.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"> Maybe no school again?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Doesn't hurt my feelings. </span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-55467408284611759352008-12-07T20:17:00.000-08:002008-12-07T20:22:52.596-08:00Christmas Carols<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">We sang "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" today at church. Love that song. They lyrics are so worshipful and I just get lost in the gorgeous music and beautiful tradition. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Isn't it amazing the the Lord of creation chose to come to earth to save us from the muckiness that we've made? And that he chose to come as a baby in such a dumpy place? I mean really, a stable??</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Since I've had Jack it makes me think about all of these things with a fresh mind. How must have Mary felt? Can you imagine watching the Savior of the world learn to crawl? And putting him to sleep each night? It's so humbling. He chose to become helpless to help me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Wow. There really are no words. I hope you all have time to reflect on this incredible season. Joy to all!</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-25719379200557041932008-11-28T20:39:00.000-08:002008-11-28T20:53:30.201-08:00Thankful<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I've got so much to be thankful for. Really. Here are just a few:</span><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Husband: He's truly the best. He works hard everyday, comes home and loves on us, and even puts up with my weenie-whining. He's my rock and my BFF. (He'd hate it if he knew I said it like that!)</span><br /></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Baby boy: This kid brings me so much joy. He's so happy, and lovey. When Nate and I walk into the room, his face just lights up. It's nice to be so loved.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Home: I love our little dump. It's not perfect, but it's got personality and it's ours.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Family: If you don't know our families, you should. They're great.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Jobs: With so many people out of work these days, I'm more and more thankful that we have good jobs. And we even enjoy them!</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Third graders: They completely drive me crazy sometimes but I love them. One of them thanked me for "being the best teacher in the whole school" the other day. Can you say, "Aaaawwwww"?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Friends: I don't get to see most of them very often but they are some of my best blessings. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Sleeping baby: Did I mention he put himself to sleep tonight? Love that!</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Me-time: I actually had time to paint my toenails!</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Savior: None of the above would be possible without His grace and love. He gives me so much more than I deserve and loves me as no one else can.</span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and I hope you're looking forward to a blessing-filled Christmas. I know I am!</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-52506217576896707772008-11-23T21:03:00.000-08:002008-11-23T21:41:48.128-08:00Growing up<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Here are some recent pictures of the darling boy. I was telling my friend Beth today that he's becoming more and more fun. Not that I didn't like him before, but you know. He's learned how to give kisses and is very insistent when he wants to give them. Hmm...not going to take rejection well? He also has developed quite the sense of humor. He thinks Nate is hysterical. I just love this kid.</span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiI8lgg1uklx-7BrWKkJoCwmrDyhSMr7c0VAriWMZ8Ahv5e_AD1E6MadT-QNJQ2Cbg8M_MjA4m0YPg2Y-ShaNgJAIX9zbqg5qzgyu7SY7TLL79VAvyDJSQg8UOYg6P-uYVkNkX4datpCI/s1600-h/smiling+in+bath.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiI8lgg1uklx-7BrWKkJoCwmrDyhSMr7c0VAriWMZ8Ahv5e_AD1E6MadT-QNJQ2Cbg8M_MjA4m0YPg2Y-ShaNgJAIX9zbqg5qzgyu7SY7TLL79VAvyDJSQg8UOYg6P-uYVkNkX4datpCI/s320/smiling+in+bath.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272089012905173218" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">His first bath with toys. So fun!</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LZgFY_LRhdLCHsPR2Psa87eOb6-XykuwG123hg3EQaxH71YmgFjhJmNyFJUYrfmnsUlyb9BQfcXdsBhVp9MfTle_69k4q0my9qObQ22Br0Jaf-yJJJ_U_2FcJlLgrJP206vKM_0ySL4/s1600-h/faux-hawk+smile.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LZgFY_LRhdLCHsPR2Psa87eOb6-XykuwG123hg3EQaxH71YmgFjhJmNyFJUYrfmnsUlyb9BQfcXdsBhVp9MfTle_69k4q0my9qObQ22Br0Jaf-yJJJ_U_2FcJlLgrJP206vKM_0ySL4/s320/faux-hawk+smile.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272089009545338418" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">Rocking the faux-hawk.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjbzbEmvrxfVsQVQzWIiuu2betGhyphenhypheneIKFirdmOD8H0iVDtcM_w2Uk_wn9hW8Gsa7WSSn-_UjgDOfJX4-LML4tEzlSYsMV3mr-uwMFP7HVuW05SXt6H7Y6EsJ8YmAblqjtTT2Vq0P1ceU/s1600-h/bw+standing+serious.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjbzbEmvrxfVsQVQzWIiuu2betGhyphenhypheneIKFirdmOD8H0iVDtcM_w2Uk_wn9hW8Gsa7WSSn-_UjgDOfJX4-LML4tEzlSYsMV3mr-uwMFP7HVuW05SXt6H7Y6EsJ8YmAblqjtTT2Vq0P1ceU/s320/bw+standing+serious.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272089004151966162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">He's learned how to stand up in his crib. Luckily he still can't pull himself up very well.</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguix0k_AHAIPvPrDB4FcpHIrUEH8yK2-0ngoEzSiweE0Vj0od7Fhz7hYPxtB8OWeNB1tpSyu4MHaALkFwMRSKezSUHBMldG_qZ1HE4i-gqc0uO7HUV1sy2v3UnVjuoKgDy9BKsfiSMtUM/s1600-h/pumpkin+stare.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguix0k_AHAIPvPrDB4FcpHIrUEH8yK2-0ngoEzSiweE0Vj0od7Fhz7hYPxtB8OWeNB1tpSyu4MHaALkFwMRSKezSUHBMldG_qZ1HE4i-gqc0uO7HUV1sy2v3UnVjuoKgDy9BKsfiSMtUM/s320/pumpkin+stare.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272089007081555554" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;">At the pumpkin patch. He was so tired and wouldn't give us a good smile, but I just love this picture anyway.</span></div></div></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-66259631596611351102008-10-05T20:13:00.000-07:002008-10-05T20:24:00.947-07:00Be impressed<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I'll admit it; I'm kind of a dork. (and all God's people said "Amen!") I really like the show Jeopardy and would gladly watch it for hours. Unfortunately, it's only on for half an hour each night and that half an hour happens to be the same time Jack likes to go to bed. Since I'm a good mama I choose the kid over the silly trivia game show.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">But the other night, the little darling had gone to bed early and I got to watch it. Remember how I said I was a dork? Well, it gets worse here. Right before final Jeopardy (you know, the part with the song) they show the final Jeopardy category. For funsies my family likes to guess what the answer will be just based on the category; the question hasn't been shown yet. They showed the category and it was "Award Namesakes." I could really only think of a few off the top of my head: Nobel, Pulitzer, Caldecott, Newberry, etc. So I guessed Newberry and Nate guessed Pulitzer.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Y'know what? I was right! The question was something like "the author of such and such book published in 17-something or other, this award is given to the best children's book every year." I got it. I won. Be impressed</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-24223295978159682912008-10-04T19:47:00.000-07:002008-10-04T20:39:30.542-07:00Hiking Dangers<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I've been meaning to blog about this for a while, but things have been crazy. And I wanted to be able to give you the end of the story. So here it is: the family hiking drama.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">A few weeks ago Nate's dad, Rocky, went hiking on Three Fingers mountain with three of his friends. He'd been on this hike many, many times, as had his friend Larry. His two other friends, Gary and John had never been. They left on Friday morning, with plans to hike to the top on Saturday and return home on Sunday. That didn't happen.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">They did, indeed, leave on Friday and start hiking up to the top on Saturday. Three Fingers has several ice fields that you have to cross in order to get to the top. (Ice fields are exactly what they sound like: fields of ice and snow). Obviously, they are very slippery and you have be very careful crossing them. Just in case someone does slip, it's wise to carry an ice-pick type tool that you can stick into the ice to stop yourself from sliding down the ice field into the rocks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Now, this always seemed a little strange to me. If you're sliding down the side of the mountain, are you really going to be able to stop yourself safely with a pick? I had asked this question before and everyone always assured me that it works well. Hmmm...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So, on Saturday about noon, the four of them were hiking across an ice field and John started to slip. For some reason, Rocky started to catch him. Not a good idea. He ended up slipping himself and started sliding down the mountain toward the rocks. He tried to get his pick in the ice but couldn't. He slid down feet first about 200 feet and when he hit the rocks, he did a somersault and landed on his back between some rocks. Luckily, he had on an old-school backpack with the metal frame and that saved him from hitting as hard as he could have.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Needless to say, he couldn't hike out. He knew he injured his leg somehow. He thought it was his knee but it turns out it was a severe break right below his knee. His friends eventually got down to him. Gary and John were sent to get help at the ranger's station and Larry stayed with Rocky. Because Gary and John weren't as experienced and it was already late in the day, they didn't get off the mountain before dark. So they had to stop and sleep on the trail in the cold and wet. Rocky and Larry thought they'd be able to make it off the mountain before dark and so were very worried the next morning when no one came to rescue them. They thought something had happened to the other two. It turns out that they were fine and they made it to the ranger's station.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">For some reason, it took forever for the rescue team to get organized and get up on the mountain. They finally got up there Sunday afternoon and were considering a helicopter rescue. But of course since this is western Washington, it was cloudy and rainy so they couldn't do that. The other plan was to carry him off the mountain. They sent about 50 guys up there and they were going to carry him on a stretcher, taking turns. By the time they decided to do that, it was too late in the day so they were going to do it on Monday.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So, he'd already been stuck in the rocks since Saturday without being able to move. Luckily, he was dry due to a tent they'd set up and he had food and water. Monday turned out to be a better day weather-wise so they attempted another helicopter rescue. First, they had to haul him out of the rocks and up the mountain a ways to a place where the helicopter could land. When it dropped down, they had to quickly shove him on board and send him away on his own.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">They took him to the hospital in Everett where he was inspected and given a room. He had to have surgery to repair the break and he won't be able to put any weight on it for 12 weeks. That's three months! Anyone who knows him knows that his may be harder for him than landing on the rocks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">He's back home now recovering. He's pretty tired and I'm sure he'll be getting bored pretty quickly. But honestly, we're just lucky he's still here. He could have easily landed a different way and seriously, or fatally, hurt himself. We truly have a God who watches out for us and protects us.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">As for the rest of us, we're doing alright. Due to poor communication, we didn't get much information until he was off the mountain. Because of that, we thought that it was just a minor injury. Maybe a broken ankle that prevented him from walking. Wrong. I'm actually kind of glad we didn't know. I think it made it easier. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So if you think about it, shoot up a little prayer for Rocky. Pray his healing...and his sanity.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-88825095010572562182008-09-21T20:49:00.000-07:002008-09-21T21:47:57.207-07:00My Life As a Novel<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Introduction</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Be forewarned. I haven't posted in a re-heally long time. And lots has been going on in the (sometimes) interesting life of Giordi Yunge. Since this is the case, I've decided that instead of writing a bunch of little blogs, I'd write one big kahuna. I apologize in advance for the teacher/political talk and the general mundane-ness of my life. Enjoy anyway.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Chapter One: The Home Front</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">First things first: Jack has two teeth. And he rolls around as if his clothes are on fire. And we haven't even taught him the whole "stop, drop, and roll" thing. Must be a genius. He's also getting to be a lot more fun. Not that I didn't really like him before, he's just way fun now. He laughs and spits, and makes these funny little conversation noises as if he's got something important to say. I love it!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">With the economy slowing down, now is not a great time to be in the construction industry. Unfortunately, Nate is an electrician. Things are getting really slow around here and his company is starting to lay-off some people. I'm not too worried about Nate yet because he's a great employee and his bosses love him. But it's still a little scary. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Since everything is slowing down, they've decided to move Nate to Bellingham to work. Previously, he had been working down south, sometimes as far south as Bothell or as far east as Duvall. Which meant that he was late getting home some nights. Not fun. When Cheryl (Nate's mom) watches Jack on Mondays and Tuesdays, it's particularly hard for me because I don't get to see Jack from 6:00 in the morning until almost 6:00 at night. Torture! But now that they're moving him to Bellingham, Nate can't take Jack to his parents. We thought we'd have to send Jack to the babysitter five days a week but since Cheryl's so wonderful and she likes Jack so much, she agreed to come up to our house on Mondays and Tuesdays to watch him. This is a huge blessing. It means that Jack will get to be home more and I'll get to see him earlier on those days, Nate will get to be home earlier since Bellingham is closer to our house, we won't have to pay for as much gas because Nate will be driving the company vehicle again instead of his truck, and Cheryl still gets to spend time with him. Wonderful! God's pretty great, huh?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Chapter Two: Silly School Story</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I teach third grade this year. Have I told you that? It's way different than fourth grade (really, it is!) but I'll get to that later. Every year the third graders go on a field trip to the local newspaper and the grocery store. The second week of school. Oh, and it's a walking field trip. So yeah, we take about 60 eight-year-olds walking on city streets the second week of school. Are we crazy, you ask? Yep, pretty much</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So the basic field trip went pretty well. Kids were well-behaved and interested. It was a beautiful day. We didn't lose anyone. The problem came as we were walking back and were a little bit late. It was a warm day (not hot, mind you), many kids forgot water, and we were trying to hurry them along so that we made it back to school in time for lunch. And I had this conversation with one kid. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Or not-so-innocent. Whatever).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Me: Come on, Francisco! We need to hurry so we make it back in time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Francisco: It's so hot! I'm going to die!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Me doing a mental eye-roll: You're not going to die. We'll all make it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Francisco very adamantly: Yes I am! And when I do, it's going to be all your fault!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I wanted to say, "Y'know? I'm willing to risk it." But I didn't. I didn't even laugh in his face.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Chapter Three: School Crap (I thought about using another word, purely for the great alliteration, but I refrained)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">As I said before, I teach third grade this year. I've always taught fourth grade and I like it that way. At the end of last year, the powers that be decided that there were only going to be two fourth grade classes this year and since I'm the low one on the figurative totem pole, I had to move. One of our third grade teachers was taking a year leave so I decided I could do that for a year. The idea is that I'll loop with this same class next year back up to fourth grade.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I have a few friends who teach third grade and love it so I was getting excited about it. And then the little darlings walked in the door. They're so little. And they don't listen the first time. Or sit still. And as soon as I start talking, they raise their hands with a question. Don't they think that I might answer it if they just wait and listen? No, they don't. So I'm kind of having a hard time with the adjustment. It doesn't help that I'd rather be home with Jack. I never thought I'd be that mom. I always thought I'd want to work. I was wrong. I miss him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Anyway, a new first grade teacher was also hired which means that there are five first grade classes and they have about 15 or 16 kids. Glorious! It's so nice for them to have small classes. However, the fourth grade classes have over 30 kids each. Not so glorious. Anyone could have called that at the end of last year (and many did). So the fourth grade classes are at trigger, which basically means that they have more kids than they should and the teachers have to be compensated. Most teachers would just rather have a smaller class.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So to fix the fourth grade problem, the administration has decided to move the new first grade teacher to fourth grade three weeks into the school year. This means that her current first graders will be divided between two of the other first grade classes (the other two are dual language and can't take any more kids) and will have to learn a new teacher, classroom, routines and meet new friends. This is a big deal for first graders. They're only six years old, for heaven's sake! It also means that the new first grade teacher who has been preparing for first grade has to suddenly switch gears, learn fourth grade curriculum, and get to know new kids all after starting a new school just three weeks ago. Of course this also means that 10 kids from each of the fourth grade classes will be up-rooted and put in a new fourth grade class. So stupid.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"> And it gets worse. I shouldn't have had to move to third grade. I want to teach fourth grade. And now this poor girl who doesn't want to move to fourth grade has to. There'd be no point in moving me to fourth grade now because it would just disturb more kids. But I shouldn't have had to move in the first place.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Laurie, one of the fourth grade teachers, came up with an idea that I thought was great. She suggested just leaving the first grade alone and hiring a half-time fourth grade teacher for the afternoon. The new teacher could have taught science, social studies, and writing. We level school-wide for reading so we wouldn't need a new reading teacher and they could have just stayed in the original classes for math. I would have loved this job! It would be fourth grade and part time. I already know the curriculum and it might have been hard to find someone else who would be willing to work part time. But they said no. Budget issues or some stupid excuse. So now I'm stuck at third grade and the first and fourth grades are going to be turned upside down. Poor kids.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Epilogue</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So there it is, my friends. My life. If you stuck it out this far, you must be really interested in my life. Or really bored. Either way, thanks for reading.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-84264813377510147692008-09-04T20:20:00.000-07:002008-09-04T20:46:11.177-07:00Driving Lessons<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">We need a new car. I've been looking for one for a while now, much to Nate's chagrin. The other day I found one online that looked promising. And it was in town.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So we decided to go look at it. Nate was less than enthusiastic about it, but because he's such a great guy and loves me so much, he came along.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">We got there and talked to the dealer a little. It was new to the lot and hadn't even been cleaned yet. He showed it to us anyway. It was just what we've, I mean <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I've</span>, been looking for. Low miles, one owner, a wagon (I heart wagons!), and at a great price. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Only one problem: it's a stick shift.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I don't drive stick shifts.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Obviously, I was feeling less than enthusiastic about it after I found out about the unfortunate transmission. Nate was way excited. He loved the price and that it was so clean. I think he was expecting to pay a lot more for the kind of car we want. He was ready to buy the car on the spot. I was more reluctant. Didn't think this was how the day would go. Turns out this is one more way Nate is like my dad: bring him car shopping and he buys a car. Any one who knows my dad knows that he's notorious for getting a little "car crazy." He likes to buy cars. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Anyway, we decided to go home, look over our finances, pray about it, and decide later. Needless to say, I'm feeling much more nervous about the whole thing than Nate is. He can drive a stick.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So to make me feel better and to see if this is even a possibility for me, Nate and I had a driving lesson tonight. We had the neighbor girl come sit in our house while Jack slept and we went for a drive in Nate's truck.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Yep, I'm 26 years old, 10 years older than most people learning how to drive and there I was, practicing taking off and stopping in the old grocery store parking lot. To make it even worse, there was a dad with is teenage daughter in the same parking lot also having driving lessons. Awesome. I'm hoping I still look young enough that it looked like a 16 year old girl and her brother. Yeah, I'm probably hallucinating.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">We'll see if this car thing even happens any time soon. If so, you might want to stay off the roads in the greater Mount Vernon area, just in case I'm practicing.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-84582489870286709692008-08-27T14:05:00.000-07:002008-08-27T14:30:41.312-07:00Ambitious<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Yep, two in one day. These are some pictures from our session with Abbi. Love her!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3iCWl_Uc5EeJ4amtADU4EtADdv6tNDLVl595FEMhXIc9MeFldF6-qY_RJI_g6kwfx9LRHDcxg2Id-IEMVvYeBimJxnOZLMA16iCmrANDy5aXodR502nHWmXuyc4n3dHZHSrj6zDOQnY/s1600-h/bw+held+out+smile.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3iCWl_Uc5EeJ4amtADU4EtADdv6tNDLVl595FEMhXIc9MeFldF6-qY_RJI_g6kwfx9LRHDcxg2Id-IEMVvYeBimJxnOZLMA16iCmrANDy5aXodR502nHWmXuyc4n3dHZHSrj6zDOQnY/s320/bw+held+out+smile.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239311131969637602" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBvsDdjwSp_x_MRC0ERhxCFotzv3SSY4qUs5lUzl6U0S9e1HxXBxDhbnFrBOFfEv3xxEo-HTFP3i-Ca5KpFCmb-XHSlicqtoNKdIN2eZIR5QAv8OtYt0uJrI1uoNUvj_jWnn94hQQ15Y/s1600-h/bw+window+3.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjBvsDdjwSp_x_MRC0ERhxCFotzv3SSY4qUs5lUzl6U0S9e1HxXBxDhbnFrBOFfEv3xxEo-HTFP3i-Ca5KpFCmb-XHSlicqtoNKdIN2eZIR5QAv8OtYt0uJrI1uoNUvj_jWnn94hQQ15Y/s320/bw+window+3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239311136284298386" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT86bjTNrEfNhqscbCe8wbxnG_Vx04kGaBmG-7EjBLZVHxU9b4N7w8DnaxjpmbQVTQE4iUHjllSE-4PVVSeQiO8aRu53d8-3_2SltSdbXl58A0Rx7ssNBy292_Z1B6kTLC892U07kA1-Q/s1600-h/c+cradle+w:+giordi+2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT86bjTNrEfNhqscbCe8wbxnG_Vx04kGaBmG-7EjBLZVHxU9b4N7w8DnaxjpmbQVTQE4iUHjllSE-4PVVSeQiO8aRu53d8-3_2SltSdbXl58A0Rx7ssNBy292_Z1B6kTLC892U07kA1-Q/s320/c+cradle+w:+giordi+2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239311147711478242" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnzEwSMpNHUH4d_QvadWOO5xx-Ah1iEZ03rlaAFVdglaL3-06WhmkyGIGPPg3bAc5lWpYnFxNbEWGuWo-5QGGCCTy3W0XZx-JJaO9I2ar4ZcRM5oQ0HeI78NgjNtALqS6qccuv3N7r24/s1600-h/bw+cradle+w:+nate.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnzEwSMpNHUH4d_QvadWOO5xx-Ah1iEZ03rlaAFVdglaL3-06WhmkyGIGPPg3bAc5lWpYnFxNbEWGuWo-5QGGCCTy3W0XZx-JJaO9I2ar4ZcRM5oQ0HeI78NgjNtALqS6qccuv3N7r24/s320/bw+cradle+w:+nate.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239311150742163106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3F3jHnby63gZbSMgVftCjzFH2wUszQFlfhxnF_GkhgAk4o7XZeElW1x4NiaW8wvxEYU4sUbo4JqiRIdndFikzvLODiopC90M-A0uponUMTv0RMsNoEvBD6ehBNn_bfzq_bubIXm-ZcY/s1600-h/c+family+close+g+kiss.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3F3jHnby63gZbSMgVftCjzFH2wUszQFlfhxnF_GkhgAk4o7XZeElW1x4NiaW8wvxEYU4sUbo4JqiRIdndFikzvLODiopC90M-A0uponUMTv0RMsNoEvBD6ehBNn_bfzq_bubIXm-ZcY/s320/c+family+close+g+kiss.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239311155541858434" /></a>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-10914776575461942302008-08-27T13:51:00.000-07:002008-08-27T13:57:48.348-07:00Back to the grind<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">This week really hasn't been that bad. Of course, I've missed the little snot like crazy but I've been able to go see him at the babysitters every day during lunch. That helps.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">And today, I didn't have any meetings or anything so I thought it would be a good idea to bring the boy to school with me so I could get some things done. A co-worker was going to bring her daughter to play with him so I'd be free to work. Yeah, not so much. He wanted <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">me</span> to hold him. We didn't get much done, needless to say. Hopefully I'll be ready for the kids by next week. Yikes!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Oh, and by the way, we had our Back to School BBQ last night when the kids can come and meet their new teachers and such. I had four kids show up. Four! If that's any indication of how involved these families are going to be then help me, Lord!</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-21713338870537958442008-08-19T15:19:00.000-07:002008-08-19T15:27:49.597-07:00The time has come<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Yes, my friends. It's here. The back to school season. Which means that I'm going to have to leave my baby boy to go back to work.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">We're starting out slowly. I have a class tomorrow and my MIL is coming up to watch Jack. I get to come home at lunch to see him. Then next week I've got all sorts of meetings and classes and generally boring activities in which to partake. Jack's going to the babysitter's for most of those days. Luckily, I'll get to go see him for lunch since the babysitter's house is just up the street from my school. And then on Wednesday the 3rd, I have to really be a big girl. School starts and I have to leave him <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">all day long</span>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">I didn't think I'd have a hard time with it. I thought I'd be ready to go back to work. I was wrong.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">So to all you praying-types: if you wouldn't mind, could you pretty please shoot up a little prayer for us? Pray that we both make it through the days with minimal crying (especially on my part). Thanks. We both appreciate it.</span></div>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7684526621082531657.post-17806219810625193212008-08-14T11:56:00.000-07:002008-08-14T12:20:16.911-07:00Perfect<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">Last Saturday I did something I haven't done in months. I went shopping. By. My. Self. Wonderful! My MIL was kind enough to watch the darling boy while I went on my quest for the perfect black pants (light weight wool blend, wide leg, high waist, fitted through the hips) and some new black pumps. I found the pumps and the almost-perfect black pants...and (da da da DA!) the most gorgeous pair of yellow pumps. For $15!! Does it get any better??</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;">You may be asking yourself, "Yellow?? Why would she need yellow shoes??" The answer is: I don't. But I really like them and I plan on wearing them with everything. And I plan on cleaning out my shoe collection, so it's okay if I buy new ones. Right? </span></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXpeaGxgFvDWCYy4cPrUmd9FcP4ryBooOgqe6uYEHnRjqoAeQuLMkv50EdVZVYjbUQAeloxBmKTXF7fwjiHBrqQjPNBDM3-UeOZVWIhrBGZX0rBhtWZlZg2dQ8D_U1skC6atCtJkK2hk/s1600-h/100_0089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXpeaGxgFvDWCYy4cPrUmd9FcP4ryBooOgqe6uYEHnRjqoAeQuLMkv50EdVZVYjbUQAeloxBmKTXF7fwjiHBrqQjPNBDM3-UeOZVWIhrBGZX0rBhtWZlZg2dQ8D_U1skC6atCtJkK2hk/s320/100_0089.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234450891592545058" /></a>Giordihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00373290489780485191noreply@blogger.com4