Part of me longs for the “good ole days.” The other part of me, the part that loves her migraine meds and air conditioning wants to smack that longing part in the face. However, there is something about the way things used to work that appealed to me. Old school courtship rituals, propriety (of which I have an utter lack) and learning skills by apprenticeship are all things that intrigue me.
Often, usually when I’m most fed up with my education and the book-learnin’ aspect of getting a doctorate, I feel the longing inside me for a simpler time. I’ve discussed this repeatedly with my supervisor at my office. I often wish that I could just observe her and soak up her knowledge like a sponge. The woman is a genius.
I feel the same about my practicum supervisor. I see how she works with children and how she draws them to her. She has them complete tasks, like a wizard of achievement testing, and I’m in awe. These people are in their element and they are good at what they do. I know why I need to be in school, but I’d much rather watch these people, full-time, and learn from them.
My education is important to me. When I’m not learning something, I grow moody (no comments from the peanut gallery) and I will start grabbing anything I can get my hands on to learn. If I’m out of school for too long, I start feeling worthless. I have things to work on in regards to how I relate my education to my feelings of self.
But I’d rather just watch and learn hands on. I think I’m just being pulled in too many directions this semester, and several of my classmates have expressed the same. Fall break can’t come soon enough.
No, my dogs aren’t druggies. I don’t give my dogs drugs. Get off my back animal activists, it’s just a title to draw you in and it worked, didn’t it?
What my title MEANT to say was that my dogs have impaired memory, but how many of you would have showed up for that particular party? Yeah, I thought so. Sometimes, it’s necessary for me to trick you to get you to show up. It’s like telling you I’m having a drinking party and then really having a dinner party with grandma. Sorry, it has to be done. I don’t want to sit at dinner alone.
Now, let me let you in on the goods. My dogs have no memory. Yours don’t either. You know they don’t. You can go to the bathroom and they think you’ve been gone for an hour and a half. Some of you may very well have been gone that long, but most of us haven’t and the dogs are thrilled! THANK GOODNESS YOU’VE RETURNED! I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE YOU AGAIN!
Times this happens to me:
When I get the mail.
When I go to the bathroom.
When I go upstairs.
When I get books from my car.
When I leave the room to make a phone call.
When I go outside to get the other dogs.
When I go to the gas station down the street and come back.
NO concept of time or memory that I was just there. In other words, they have some long-term memory (sit, stand, shake, hugs), but no short term.
This was made more clear to me last weekend. We had several men to our house. Every time the dogs would come into the room, they would bark at our friend, BS. Then they would promptly sniff him and decide “OH, I KNOW HIM” and jump on his lap and give him kisses and hugs.
Smokin’ the doobie. I’m just thankful they don’t have the munchies.
Today, I need a nap. Some days you are the Pot spider…hopefully none of you are the crack spider. I’m not implying that I do drugs or that any of you do, either. I’m just saying, enjoy the video.
When I was little, I used to sit on my front porch and watch the rain with my grandfather. No one ever told me that rain or thunderstorms were something to be feared. There was even a time I saw a small funnel, the very endings of what must have been something fearful, across the dirt road from my house. This isn’t to say that my family didn’t keep me safe.
I remember one time when my cousins and I were in my grandparents basement during a storm. Clearly, it had to be after Easter, as we had each dragged a bag of candy onto the bed downstairs and we were bartering candy to one another so that “no one would starve for the duration of the storm.” Melodramatic little beasts, weren’t we?
There is something about a good storm that appealed to my grandfather. I don’t think he could explain it, however, because I have inherited it and I can’t explain it, myself. Rain, thunder and lightening are peaceful to me. They soothe me.
It could be because they remind me of him. He’ll always be the father figure in my life and he’ll always be my hero. Maybe the rain reminded him of someone.
Maybe it just had the “cool” factor that it has for my son, AJ. He likes nothing more than to stand in the rain. He’ll curl up next to me and use his cajoling voice and ask me sweetly if he can wear his rain coat and boots and stand outside. I smile just as sweetly and tell him no. Most times.
But part of me, that part that is still the child on the porch, smiles sweetly back and, now and then says, “Get them on. You’ve got 10 minutes and if you see lightening, get back in here.”
Tonight, we were walking out of Target after a 3 day bender. For me, a 3 day bender means a 3 day migraine. I’d gone to the walk-in clinic last night and a magic Dr. gave me magic shots that make me sleep and make the bad migraine take a break. Or, not necessarily go away, but I feel them less, which is what happened in this case. I’d slept most of today and the edge was off of my migraine.
It was time to get out of the house and try to regain sanity after being sick most all of the week.
A.J. had scrounged up some pocket change. I have no idea where he found it, but my guess is that he raided couches and bathrooms and tables. He had almost $5. In little boy world, this is a fortune and can be spent on things that will drive your parents absolutely nuts.
He’d scored some Halloween window clings from the $1 bin and some matchbox cars. Of course, they had to be done in separate trips to a very patient cashier who counted out his change with him. She deserves an award.
As we walked out to the car, in the pouring rain, without umbrellas or coats (we laugh in the face of pneumonia), I heard him softly singing next to me: “I ammmm a happy boy, a happy boooooy, a happy BOY! I ammmm a happy boy, a happy booooy, a hap-eeee-BOY!”
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
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We are members of one great body. Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
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Part of me longs for the “good ole days.” The other part of me, the part that loves her migraine meds and air conditioning wants to smack that longing part in the face. However, there is something about the way things used to work that appealed to me. Old school courtship rituals, propriety (of which I have an utter lack) and learning skills by apprenticeship are all things that intrigue me. 
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
