tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265323772024-03-13T09:26:52.171-05:00The Lemonade Stand<img src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/RdM-W6fC1-I/AAAAAAAAAMU/TViBeRqPQCA/s320/Lemonade_stand_1.jpg"><p>BECAUSE WHEN LIFE HANDS YOU LEMONS...Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.comBlogger263125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-30710446317526608952012-12-16T17:26:00.002-06:002012-12-16T17:26:14.014-06:00Sandy HookMy heart is broken.<br />
<br />
As I left the teacher's lounge late Friday morning, I had my Weight Watchers' microwave meal balanced precariously on a stack of papers from my mailbox. The plastic container was too hot for me to hold. The principal walked past me, her eyes clearly reddened from recent tears. I paused, wondering if I should ask if everything is okay, but didn't want to pry in case it was something personal. A few steps past me, she turned and asked me if I'd heard the news about the school shooting.<br />
<br />
Sherri filled me in with what she knew - a shooter had killed children and teachers at a school in Newtown, Connecticut. There were at least seventeen kids dead. An elementary school. The noise from the chatter of the teachers in the lounge faded as my stomach filled with grief.<br />
<br />
"I'm not going to tell the teachers right now," Sherri said. I nodded, numbly, and began to walk back to my office. When I got there, I logged onto a news site and watched the coverage, taking slow bites of the tasteless food. The only urge I had was to go and pick up my kids and hold them close.<br />
<br />
This one hits so close to home. I work at an elementary school. My children are almost school age. We have the same safety precautions at our school that Sandy Hook has. I just can't wrap my head around it.<br />
<br />
I seem to have become slightly obsessive about it. I've been reading news article after news article. I imagine what those last moments must have been like for those children. I imagine if I were a teacher there or if I were in the office when the shooter got in or if I were the parent of one of the children that died or if I just lived in the community or.... My mind reels at the ripple effect that this type of thing has.<br />
<br />
I have to go back to work tomorrow. As the counselor, I am the one who is supposed to know what to say and how to deal with these types of things. I'll be the one to talk to the kids who are scared or help the teachers know what to say... I guess that as we all are falling apart individually, we'll try to hold each other together and hopefully manage some type of normalcy.<br />
<br />
My head realizes that the chances of something like this occurring are more rare than the chance that I'll win the lottery. My heart says that even that remote chance is way too high.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-80812716136288363162011-03-10T13:35:00.003-06:002011-03-10T13:48:52.553-06:00This is only a test...Spring break - the sky is cloudy, the temp is below 40-degrees, and I can't keep up with the mess that the children continue to create as I do everything in my power to clean.<div><br /></div><div>It is days like today that I am reminded how grateful I am to be a working mother. I'm sorry if that sounds crass or unappreciative... But, not even a week into our two-week break, I'm about ready to beg to go back... </div><div><br /></div><div>Excuse me - I have to go put the almost-3-year-old back in bed for his nap.</div><div><br /></div><div>....Now where was I?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, yes... Patience. Or lack thereof. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love my children. More than life itself. But this ...</div><div><br /></div><div>Hang on - infant playing with fireplace poker.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cool. Soot all over her hands and shirt. Awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tell me again how I'm supposed to do dishes/laundry/make dinner with only a single hand or being interrupted every 36 seconds? I had great plans for everything I was going to do over break. So far, I think I've gone backward. And if the older one refuses to nap, how will I ever get anything crossed off the list?</div><div><br /></div><div>And whoever decided that 1:30 p.m. was a perfect time to set off the sirens for the state-wide tornado drill, thanks for that. Because Sparky was almost asleep, but... no longer.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-11289963152226161792010-04-18T12:29:00.002-05:002010-04-18T12:56:10.665-05:00Daddy and Dandelions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHfA0KI0I/AAAAAAAAAvc/Hk7ZzhKdl90/s1600/IMG_2704.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHfA0KI0I/AAAAAAAAAvc/Hk7ZzhKdl90/s320/IMG_2704.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461537571237143362" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHeqbbugI/AAAAAAAAAvU/NsXkBLc8-oM/s1600/IMG_2701.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHeqbbugI/AAAAAAAAAvU/NsXkBLc8-oM/s320/IMG_2701.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461537565227858434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHef0ZVJI/AAAAAAAAAvM/KcVnDrdWLQE/s1600/IMG_2691.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHef0ZVJI/AAAAAAAAAvM/KcVnDrdWLQE/s320/IMG_2691.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461537562379768978" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHdtWCIXI/AAAAAAAAAvE/Ycf2sn2n6M8/s1600/IMG_2689.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHdtWCIXI/AAAAAAAAAvE/Ycf2sn2n6M8/s320/IMG_2689.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461537548830646642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHdA_8GCI/AAAAAAAAAu8/i8p8fsZtb84/s1600/IMG_2671.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S8tHdA_8GCI/AAAAAAAAAu8/i8p8fsZtb84/s320/IMG_2671.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461537536926816290" /></a>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-84092470652087361212010-04-09T10:16:00.004-05:002010-04-09T10:40:53.937-05:00Thoughts on Pregnancy...As my second pregnancy comes to a close, I find myself taking notice of issues relating to the "miracle of life" and how nobody really tells you ahead of time what it is all about.<div><p style="text-align: right;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><br /></p></div><div>For example - </div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/S79KUaoJLhI/AAAAAAAAAu0/bDBSCoAcUIw/s200/pregnancy+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458162988001865234" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Did you know that catching a cold during the final weeks of your pregnancy can be like playing an ongoing game of Russian Roulette? Every cough or sneeze is a gamble, depending on when your last trip to the bathroom or how much water you've had to drink recently. (Allergy season can be just as bad!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Why must mothers sacrifice their bodies in order to have a baby? Everyone knows about how hard it can be to lose "the baby weight," but that is just the beginning! At least baby weight is something relatively controllable with diet and exercise after the baby is born. There are worse fates than baby weight! I was lucky - I survived my first pregnancy unscathed by stretch marks and counted myself lucky. This time, however, purply little spider veins are beginning to protrude on my lower right leg. Gross! Call me vain, but I'd prefer the stretch marks on my belly that nobody will ever see to a road map stretching over my legs that is visible if I wear capris!</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't care what people say - maternity clothes are not "fashionable" and pregnant women are not "cute." There is nothing like wearing a tent to make somebody bitter when some skinny bitch condescends with some type of comment like, "Oh - you look <i>sooo</i> adorable!" Yeah, well, if I weren't already out of breath from walking up that flight of stairs, I'd show you exactly how adorable pregnant women can be!</div><div><br /></div><div>But, you know, I have to say that even though this post doesn't sound like it, I love being pregnant. Yes, I miss my lounging on the patio with a margarita. And, yes, I look forward to being able to wear pants with a fly. But, it is cool to feel that little girl wriggling around inside of me and knowing that in a few short weeks, she'll be joining us and we'll get to know this wholly new little person!</div><div><br /></div><div>Besides - I hear that laser surgery can take care of those spider veins. And I'm doing Kegel's right now for the roulette issue!</div>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-69255273651930611772010-04-01T19:29:00.003-05:002010-04-01T20:29:04.929-05:00GoldI was a Girl Scout for longer than I generally care to admit. One of my favorite activities was building a fire and singing around the campfire on our camping trips. One song that most anyone who was ever a Girl Scout will remember goes something like this:<div><br /></div><div><i>Make new friends,</i></div><div><i>But keep the old.</i></div><div><i>One is silver,</i></div><div><i>And the other gold.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I had the opportunity recently to reconnect with two friends who were members of my Girl Scout troop through to the very end. Not only were we Girl Scouts together, but I would freely describe them as my two best friends from elementary school through high school. For many years, the three of us were inseparable.</div><div><br /></div><div>They endured my impulsive antics with a tempered patience, half waiting to see what would come next, half hoping that whatever it was would not cause too much trouble. Together, we discussed the boys in our class that we liked (with code names to ensure ultimate secrecy), and employed primitive three-way calling to conduct subterfuge operations when on the phone with aforementioned boys (aka - one person listening in on another line in another room).</div><div><br /></div><div>I was often overly sensitive and competitive as a kid and would get my feelings hurt over things that most kids my age wouldn't think about twice about. The fact that these two girls managed to stay friends with me for as long as they did says a lot about their character.</div><div><br /></div><div>Once we entered high school, we began to find separate paths. Differing lunch schedules and dissimilar schedules caused the logistics of our daily communication to wane. They both became involved in band; I began participating on the swim team, in theatre, and on the newspaper staff. As our interests expanded, so did our circle of friends. I remember experiencing a level of jealousy about the new friends who seemed to take up so much of their time; however, I can't claim that I kept my schedule available for them all the time, either.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ultimately, though, we remained friends. I would still refer to them as my best friends throughout the high school years.</div><div><br /></div><div>College was different, though. We all went different ways. I became involved in a relationship with a man who didn't have time for my friends; therefore, I didn't have time for them. The emails grew fewer and fewer.</div><div><br /></div><div>I once imagined that these two women would be in my wedding. By the time I finally got married, I hadn't spoken to either of them in almost ten years, other than the perfunctory conversations at each of the other's weddings.</div><div><br /></div><div>About a month ago, I got a note card from one of them. She invited the two of us to get together for lunch and even set a date and time. We met and had a nice time catching up with each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have to admit that I was kind of nervous about the meeting. I knew that we'd grown apart and had very separate lives over the past ten years. The person that I am now is very different from the person I was then. I was worried that we wouldn't have enough to talk about.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know that on one level, our conversation wasn't the same as what it used to be. I can't say that we fell right into talking about old times, as though no time had passed at all. But, at the same time, it was wonderful to see my old friends and catch up on what had been going on in their lives. And, we set another date to get together for lunch again. I hope that we can work to rebuild and rekindle our friendships, because these two women have known me longer than anyone, and I miss having them in my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is something to be said about cherishing old friends... I'm grateful to have a second chance to keep ahold of mine.</div>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-89106312041810802802009-11-24T17:26:00.003-06:002009-11-24T17:40:05.227-06:00Thankful...for Warmth...<br /><br />sitting by the fire.<br />a stranger's smile.<br />unsolicited help.<br />a cup of steaming tea.<br />wrapped in a fuzzy blanket.<br />my son's palm in mine.<br /><br />...for Change...<br /><br />being challenged.<br />always learning.<br />a new house.<br />adding to our family.<br /><br />...for Love...<br /><br />giving.<br />receiving.<br />friends.<br />family.<br />all.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-49173799565384027642009-11-22T13:49:00.003-06:002009-11-22T14:15:50.707-06:00I remember when I used to blog.<br /><br />Blogging brought my husband and me together. Our first interactions were some mildly inappropriate blog comments; we were linked through some mutual friends' blogs. Very few of those friends blog anymore... Dave and I barely do, either.<br /><br />Blogging also triggered the me to leave one job and begin another. At the time, this was painful and I must admit that there are still some hard feelings associated with the departure. However, it was ultimately a "net good" experience, given the people and experiences I've had since then due to the new environment.<br /><br />I used to crave the acknowledgement of being added to somebody's link list. It took so much more effort to be recognized as a blogger worthy of interest than it does to add somebody as a Facebook friend. I was also a comment-collector, feeling vindicated when I would reach a high number of comments on a single post. Or, I'd watch my Sitemeter climb and find new heights for daily number of hits, feeling valued.<br /><br />Inspiration slowed when the baby was born. The time needed to create a worthy blog entry was a ever-dwindling commodity. Facebook siphoned the motivation to take the time to compose a blog entry. Now, my only entries are when I have something that is weighing on my mind and I need a place to vent with relative anonymity and safety.<br /><br />I don't usually watch Oprah, but last week I did happen to catch the interview with Stephenie Meyer. Did you know that before "Twilight" she had never really written or been published? Inspiration struck her and she went for it, unsure that anything would ever culminate from her efforts.<br /><br />I find myself with ideas and stories and thoughts rattling through my mind on a daily basis. Occasionally, they keep me awake at night, screaming to be recognized, heard. I'll jot down a couple of notes in case I ever find the time to write about them.<br /><br />But, come on. I can't even find time to post a thought on this blog regularly. I am working full-time, caring for a toddler, expecting another baby this spring, and working on a second master's degree. Oh, yeah - and we're moving in a week. (I am taking a lunch break from packing at the moment.) How could I ever find time to do something as selfish as blogging with that type of schedule, let alone time to try to write something fictional?<br /><br />Writing has been a part of my life since before I could form the letters with my small hands; I used to dictate stories to my mother and illustrate them after she'd written out the words. In third grade, I created a class newspaper by hand and photocopied it at my dad's office. I've always been a verbal person and I process my thoughts through language, often preferring to write out my thoughts in a letter or email than try to explain them out loud.<br /><br />I guess the bottom line is that I miss blogging. I need to do it for myself. For release. For a form of meditation. For a way to connect, not only with other people in the cyberworld, but with myself. When things get crazy, instead of frantically scrolling through lazy Facebook postings, I should take the time to sit down and think about something "real" to write about. Not for comments or site hits... but for me.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-24944695240518825592009-09-03T16:35:00.003-05:002009-09-03T16:58:50.983-05:00Venting...Today was a frustrating day.<br /><br />(Disclaimer: This blog has ceased to become much more than a place for me to occasionally write a post about something that strikes me as worth pondering. No longer do I post to solicit admiration, provide entertainment, or collect comments. If you happen to be one of the few who still checks my blog, feel free to commiserate... Just fair warning that my "audience" when I am writing has slowly changed in the last year or so...)<br /><br />When I opened my work email box, the first thing that I saw was a short email from an administrator regarding President Obama's upcoming speech. Next week, President Obama is planning on making a short 2-minute speech to the nation's students on the topic of staying motivated and excelling in school. A nice gesture, right?<br /><br />Apparently not. The political opposition to Obama is so fierce, that our schools are receiving requests from parents to excuse their children from the two-minute cheerleading session from our nation's leader.<br /><br />Do they think that he is going to address the controversial topic of healthcare to the young minds of America? Are they worried that his charm might brainwash their children into believing that he is actually somebody that students could see as a role model? Maybe he's going to, in one hundred and twenty seconds, turn them in mini-Socialists!!! (*Gasp*)<br /><br />I'm sorry, but I don't understand. While there has never been any question which side of the aisle that my political ideals gravitate towards, I feel like I have an open mind. If President Bush had wanted to make a short speech to the nation's students, I would have welcomed the opportunity for my son to be exposed to the political leader of the free world. I would have encouraged him to think critically about what was said and to form his own opinions about it, whether they differed from mine or not.<br /><br />When something as trivial as this becomes a politically charged issue, it makes me feel sad about the state of our nation. I cherish the right to freedom of speech and I am glad that parents have the right to choose what their children are exposed to and what they are not. What saddens me is that people are so entrenched in their political ideals that they can't see the value in anything that has to do with the "opponent" and will dig their heels in if that is what the idealogues tell them that they should do.<br /><br />I wonder how this country has managed to become so divided. I worry that we will never be able to make progress in any way if both sides refuse to work together to set some common goals. And I wish that we could find some common ground. However, if when one side reaches out a hand and the other simply slaps it away, how is progress to be made?Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-1485646730884517202009-06-10T21:18:00.005-05:002009-06-10T21:28:24.394-05:00Let's Have Some Bubbly...Mom felt guilty after retrieving Sparky from Grambeana's house after the weeklong honeymoon to Jamaica. So, yesterday, I purchased a Bubble Machine for Sparky. We broke it out this morning, and had the time of our lives chasing after these small globes of soap floating across our driveway.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBrhPFbkFI/AAAAAAAAAus/euaroZ6NV9o/s1600-h/Bubble+08.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345890976417943634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBrhPFbkFI/AAAAAAAAAus/euaroZ6NV9o/s320/Bubble+08.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBrgsAmjSI/AAAAAAAAAuk/Ww_SYNs5wOE/s1600-h/Bubble+07.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345890967002451234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBrgsAmjSI/AAAAAAAAAuk/Ww_SYNs5wOE/s320/Bubble+07.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBrgQsz_bI/AAAAAAAAAuc/3lHbudNrNIQ/s1600-h/Bubble+06.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345890959671688626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBrgQsz_bI/AAAAAAAAAuc/3lHbudNrNIQ/s320/Bubble+06.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqdiDJFyI/AAAAAAAAAuU/T1PbahUDY_E/s1600-h/Bubble+05.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345889813277513506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqdiDJFyI/AAAAAAAAAuU/T1PbahUDY_E/s320/Bubble+05.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqdZFCTqI/AAAAAAAAAuM/xcnMtNsszAA/s1600-h/Bubble+04.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345889810869538466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqdZFCTqI/AAAAAAAAAuM/xcnMtNsszAA/s320/Bubble+04.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqdMQm8tI/AAAAAAAAAuE/NjMwqprBAcs/s1600-h/Bubble+03.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345889807428416210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqdMQm8tI/AAAAAAAAAuE/NjMwqprBAcs/s320/Bubble+03.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqcwcE0NI/AAAAAAAAAt8/gJt5jT4Tslw/s1600-h/Bubble+02.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345889799960318162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqcwcE0NI/AAAAAAAAAt8/gJt5jT4Tslw/s320/Bubble+02.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqcqTrbbI/AAAAAAAAAt0/uGtJy3ayzwk/s1600-h/Bubble+01.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345889798314487218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SjBqcqTrbbI/AAAAAAAAAt0/uGtJy3ayzwk/s320/Bubble+01.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div></div></div>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-10929966089010744222009-05-19T17:57:00.004-05:002009-05-19T18:10:49.514-05:00Visiting the GardensGrayson and I had the pleasure today of taking a trip to the Missouri Botanical Gardens with some of the other children and moms involved in our playgroup. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect day to make the trip. I really appreciated the time, knowing that I'll be going back to work sooner than expected; the school where I was hired (yesterday!) is on cycles and I'll be going back at the beginning of July. I've also been inspired to try to use our nice camera to capture some great photos of our little Sparkster... Here are some from our trip today.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337675134706059602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/ShM7QTqXCVI/AAAAAAAAAtU/v7Gq6mrv1fk/s320/BG+1+Gray+Roses.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337675148953460066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/ShM7RIvNHWI/AAAAAAAAAts/laqPCCHSEd8/s320/IMG_1652.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337675146119071858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/ShM7Q-LbyHI/AAAAAAAAAtk/Zq1aZL4iQHU/s320/IMG_1791.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337675141159190738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/ShM7Qrs6ANI/AAAAAAAAAtc/QWwZOd0l1nk/s320/IMG_1735.JPG" border="0" />Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-37023501688010138322009-05-18T11:30:00.004-05:002009-05-18T12:24:45.545-05:00GoodbyeLast night, we watched a show on the Discovery channel talking about those seventeen-year cicadas. The cicadas' evolutionary trait of "predatory satiation" allows for most of the cicadas to survive the advances of predators based on sheer numbers; there are always enough survivors to ensure procreation. After seventeen years of development as nymphs underground, the surviving adult cicadas only live several weeks... When they die, their bodies decompose and become a part of the soil, providing nutrients for the plants that will then sustain the nymphs who will live underground until the next seventeen-year cycle is complete.<br /><br />I couldn't avoid making the connection of this circle of life to our pup, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Regis</span>. Right now, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Regis</span> is laying on the floor near my feet as I type this. I can hear Dave getting his keys now in order to bring him to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">veterinarian</span>. This time, it isn't for the chemotherapy that was helping him battle the lymphoma that he was diagnosed with three months ago; that treatment quit working weeks ago. Today, we will say goodbye to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Regis</span>.<br /><br />We knew yesterday that it was time. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Regis</span>' lymph nodes were swollen so badly that it looked like he had golf balls stuck in his mouth and cheeks. He had two accidents, unable to make it overnight or let us know during the day that he had to go outside. His food bowl has remained at the same level over the past four days. Instead of bounding down the stairs, following us, he stood at the top, tentatively trying to make the first step, then backing up, knowing that the effort might be too much.<br /><br />But, knowing that it is time doesn't make it any easier.<br /><br />This morning, I had an interview. I tried to keep the entire thing out of my mind in order to stay focused. On the way home from the interview, I was torn between wanting to get home to see <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Regis</span> and spend time with him or driving around for as long as possible, knowing that when I got home, Dave was going to take him to the vet. I kept thinking... "In three hours, in two hours, in one hour..." I saw the blanket in the back seat of the car, used for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Regis</span> when we would go "bye-bye." What do we do with the blanket now? Or his leash? Or the goodies that we never had the chance to give him?<br /><br />When we first found out that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Regis</span> had lymphoma three months ago, we decided to have him cremated... We'll keep his ashes and when we move to our 'forever house,' we'll plant a tree and place his ashes beneath it. It seemed like the best way to tribute our friend. Allowing his ashes to become part of a living thing that would be a reminder in our daily lives of the best dog that anyone could ever wish to have.<br /><br />And I know that the hurt that we have now is only a tiny payoff for the immense love, fun, and comfort that we've shared with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Regis</span> over the past years.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/ShGVH0ojy_I/AAAAAAAAAtM/PRGzJ-IPXFM/s1600-h/IMG_1567%5B1%5D"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337210995031133170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/ShGVH0ojy_I/AAAAAAAAAtM/PRGzJ-IPXFM/s320/IMG_1567%5B1%5D" border="0" /></a>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-76575096092961604622009-05-05T17:34:00.003-05:002009-05-05T17:55:49.462-05:00Will Work for PaycheckSearching for a job is extremely humbling. In economic times like these, it is even more so.<br /><br />Over the past ten years, I've felt confident in my ability to always be able to find a job anywhere I would choose to move. There will always be kids and schools will always need teachers. I have a variety of certifications: Elementary, grades 1-6; Language Arts, grades 5-9; and Gifted Education, grades K-12. Taking a year off to stay home with my son seemed like no big deal when I resigned from my teaching position last May.<br /><br />Then, the economy tanked.<br /><br />This spring, I've been sent into a flurry of job applications and resumes. The uncertainty of the future has made Dave and me feel like it would be best for me to go back to work, just in case things get worse before they get better. I spend hours searching school district websites, looking for positions that aren't posted on the clearinghouse site. Every time the phone rings, I hope that it is a district calling to set up an interview. Mostly, I'm disappointed.<br /><br />About two weeks ago, all of a sudden, my application seemed to make it into the hands of some people who make decisions. Within a single day, I had three interviews set up. Confidence washed over me and I thought that maybe I would have a teaching contract before the wedding. <br /><br />I have a pretty good ability to assess how the interviews go once I leave. The phone interview went well, but was very brief, and I'm still waiting for follow-up. The interview for an elementary position was pretty tough; they asked a lot of very specific questions about teaching techniques that I haven't implemented because I haven't spent the last six years in the general education classroom. The third interview went extremely well; I quickly got a call for a second interview which I attended last week. With each passing hour, though, I knew that my chances of getting that job offer diminished. By the time the administrator called this afternoon to let me know that they'd chosen another candidate, I was completely unsurprised. Bummer.<br /><br />There are other opportunities out there and I'm confident that something will work out. I keep telling myself that it isn't so much about me not performing well in the interviews as much as being compared to the interviewees, who may have more experience or expertise in a specific area than I do. It seems that there are a lot of people in similar situations to mine; they've been out of the education field for a while and are now trying to get back into it because they've lost their other jobs or their family needs the additional income. School districts, on the other hand, aren't adding any positions and are filling any openings with people already in the district and cutting those additional jobs.<br /><br />I'm hopeful that things will work out, hopefully sooner rather than later. But the past three and a half months spent on this job search seem to be dragging on and on into eternity. And it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-69634437918966889892009-05-03T21:23:00.002-05:002009-05-03T21:35:42.998-05:00The Abandoned BlogDear Blog...<br /><br />I have to apologize for my neglectful nature over the past four months. Although, of course, this neglect didn't just occur overnight. Over the past year or more, I must feel that we've slowly grown more distant. You were needy, I felt too much pressure, and so I began to withdraw. I found other newer and flashier things to occupy my precious computer time... I know that it is a touchy subject, but Facebook and the ability to post in a single sentence seemed so much more efficient.<br /><br />Then, tonight, I felt a wave of nostalgia. The familiar picture at the top of the page brought a smile to my face. I scanned through post after post, laughing at some, becoming wistful after others, and loving the photos and stories that I was able to share through you. I realized that I missed taking the time to create a post to share with my friends and the opportunity to actually write about something, anything, whether mundane or life-changing.<br /><br />I must admit that you are often on my mind. Often, I have a quick thought - "Oh, that would make a great blog post!" But, by the time I have a chance to take a seat at my computer, I'm consumed with writing a paper for class or scoping the net for a new job. Not to add into the fact that little Sparky is no longer extremely keen on allowing Mommy to have computer time.<br /><br />But, no more excuses. While I can't promise to be here everyday, I'm going to take the time nurture you back to health. A regular post now and then, with an update about Sparky or some nuance that I have to share will be good. I like to memorialize events here... It was a nice time to look back through the older posts and remember the good times. I hope that we can continue where we left off.<br /><br />-VioletViolethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-27886981105819335992009-01-03T15:47:00.001-06:002009-01-03T15:48:37.501-06:00Guaranteed to make you smile!!!And I'm not just saying that because he's my son!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/votVI931FyM&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/votVI931FyM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-76775381113672714252008-12-19T20:35:00.003-06:002008-12-19T20:57:17.266-06:00GuiltOther than my rather unhealthy addiciton to <em>American Idol</em>, I try to stay away from reality television as a general rule. I watched the first season of <em>Survivor</em> (remember Richard Hatch?) and season two of <em>America's Next Top Model</em>. Other than that, though, I've stayed away.<br /><br />Until tonight.<br /><br />Dave's out enjoying a "Guys' Night Out." Sparky is sleeping soundly in his crib. I'm eating leftover tuna casserole, scrolling through the channel guide since nothing is on the DVR because all the shows are in reruns for the holidays. And, I come across this:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.nbc.com/Primetime/Mommas_Boys/"><em>Momma's Boys on NBC</em></a> *<br /><br />I watched the entire thing. And, I set it to record the entire series.<br /><br />Maybe it has to do with the fact that I just finished a class on Family Systems Theory and the dynamics of watching three young men try to find a romantic partner while their helicopter mothers monitor their every move is intriguing to me. (Enmeshment much? Thanks, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvador_Minuchin">Minuchin</a>.)<br /><br />Maybe it has to do with the one mother who overtly came out and said that she does not approve of any Black, Jewish, Muslim, or Asian girl for her son. Only a White, Catholic girl from an undivorced family will do. (And people like to say that racism no longer exists in our country!)<br /><br />Or maybe it's the guilty pleasure of wanting to watch the cat fights as 32 young women fight over 3 men.<br /><br />Don't tell anyone, okay?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*You'll never guess who is the <a href="http://i390.photobucket.com/albums/oo347/ekircher01/ryan-seacrest.jpg">exec producer</a>, though...</span>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-29487449703644908182008-12-18T19:33:00.004-06:002008-12-18T19:56:45.709-06:00Embracing my inner dork...As a new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span> junkie (thanks a lot, Paula), I've recently come into contact with a lot of people from my past. The experience has definitely caused some introspection.<br /><br />When I think back on high school or the potential high school reunion, I tend to cringe. There were a lot of people there that didn't "get me." And, for that matter, I didn't "get them," either. Society had taught me that I should be able discern what to wear, what music to like, what to say, and how to act in order to fit in with this particular crowd. But, I was always really too consumed with my own world to figure out what those things were and always seemed to be baffled by the fact that I couldn't quite put all the pieces together.<br /><br />At this point in my life, I'm secure enough to admit some things that, in my earlier years, I would have been mortified to share. Quirky things that some people may not expect, but I am no longer ashamed to put out there, because, well, they're just "me."<br /><br />For example - The magazines I subscribe to are: Psychology Today, Gifted Child Today, Cooking Light, The Journal of Counseling and Development, and Scrapbooks, Etc. (No gossip magazines or current events... Although, I used to get Entertainment Weekly and Time.) I get excited when I see them in my mailbox and love to relax in the bathtub, reading an article about current trends in counseling or scrapbooking techniques.<br /><br />One of my favorite genres of music is Broadway. Along those sides, I <em>love</em> musical theatre. There is something about the integration of music and plot that somehow transcends a simple play or movie. Plus, the thrill of a live performance sends chills down my spine.<br /><br />I <em>love</em> going to school. I like writing papers. I enjoy the challenge of studying for a test. I thrive on the stress of waiting for grades to be posted. After I finish my master's degree that I am working on now (my second, for the record), I hope to earn my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ph</span>.D. in Counseling Psychology.<br /><br />Interesting how once I write these things down, they really seem like no big deal. But, I'll be honest - these are things that I sometimes worry about sharing with people. Like, I'm not really as "cool" as I try to act. You'd think that ten years out of high school, I would no longer worry about what other people think of me... But, like everyone else (I hope), I do. I'm proud of the fact that I'm willing to put those things out there for all those people from my past, dorky or not.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-88936691365893158052008-11-30T09:13:00.003-06:002008-11-30T09:26:45.001-06:00Not even lying...As I went to post an ad on Craigslist this morning, here is a picture of my word verification:<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274472204421549378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/STKwhko3zUI/AAAAAAAAAr0/g6XrVTEjg28/s320/Caped+Polygamist.jpg" border="0" />It's a bird... It's a plane... No - It's the <em>Caped Polygamist</em>! Curious about special powers? Just use your imagination.... Haha... Does anyone else find this funny but me?<br /><br />**********<br /><br />We watched the Mizzou vs. Kansas game yesterday. What a heartbreaker. I always feel so bad for those kids - basically, because that's what they are: kids. They go out there and there is so much pressure on them. For the Mizzou team, within the first weeks of the season, the expectation was set for them to go undefeated. I just imagine what it must feel like for these young guys the day after a game they were "supposed" to win. Must be really hard on them.<br /><br />**********<br /><br />Christmas is showing around our house. We got both trees up over the weekend and hopefully will be able to keep Sparky out of them. So far, it hasn't been too bad.<br /><br />And - as an new precedent, Dave & I got up on "Black Friday" and went shopping. We figured since we are up before seven o'clock on a normal day anyway, it couldn't hurt to see if we could catch a few deals. We were successful in getting a few things bought and were home before ten a.m. Can't beat that!Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-21847321162961612272008-11-07T10:42:00.005-06:002008-11-07T10:56:20.564-06:00Your Political CompassWhat's this? Two posts in a single day? Yeah, that's right...<br /><br />In case anybody hadn't noticed, I have some pretty well-developed ideas about politics and society. <a href="http://strengthinstripes.blogspot.com/">The Comeback Kid</a> posted this on his blog and I thought it was pretty cool. It is called <a href="http://politicalcompass.org/test">The Political Compass</a>. It rates you based on your economic views and also your view of the role of government in society.<br /><br />Violet's political compass:<br />Economic Left/Right: -6.12<br />Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -5.54<br /><br />It then compares you to other historical political figures like George W. Bush, Pope Benedict XVI, and Hitler.<br /><br />Mine placed me in the same vicinity of <a href="http://hakitdois.files.wordpress.com/2006/10/ghandi-inembassady.jpg">this guy</a>.<br /><br />Check it out if you get the chance.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-85695894170450760772008-11-07T07:58:00.005-06:002008-11-07T08:47:34.982-06:00Wanna come over for dinner?Our chapter of <a href="http://www.csi-net.org/">Chi Sigma Iota</a> up at school is doing a holiday food drive, so yesterday I began rummaging through the pantry for things to donate. I won't go through all of the fun things I discovered during my search, but here's something I thought was worth sharing:<br /><br />One innocent box of Tuna Noodle Helper*...<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265925132806242402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SRRTAhq3wGI/AAAAAAAAAgw/UHcI93rZku0/s320/DSC03163.JPG" border="0" />Not just expired.... </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265925138235761346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SRRTA15XosI/AAAAAAAAAg4/m5YYQ9xYg08/s320/DSC03169.JPG" border="0" /><br />But, so old that even the Box Tops for Education are too old to salvage. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265925146359714786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SRRTBUKRU-I/AAAAAAAAAhA/UQzF6Pn67WI/s320/DSC03168.JPG" border="0" />Damn.<br /><br />To reframe this in a more positive light, I guess this just means that I am such a wonderful cook, I don't need to use tuna casserole from a box. Right???<br /><br />BTW - I did <em>not</em> donate the expired Tuna Noodle Helper to the food drive. That just wouldn't be right, would it?<br /><br />And, for those of you who only visit the site for news of Sparky, here's a little clip to keep you happy. </p><p align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx7I78xMkTEiKlVH8Kp4So5Iu06aDYJm3HDNXq3JDYqtTCBCHhKN696JyXwsJ3tITMmpo-qY0IiNxo' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p><em>*"I don't know why they call it Hamburger Helper... It does just fine by itself."</em><br />**What is my obsession with expired food? I guess I just find it funny... As evidenced <a href="http://violet789.blogspot.com/2006/10/whats-in-your-fridge.html">here</a>, and <a href="http://violet789.blogspot.com/2007/01/how-many-mustards-does-one-man-need.html">here</a>. Although, there may be more posts that I couldn't find right away. I can't quite be sure. </p>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-10428851478051332442008-10-31T18:23:00.002-05:002008-10-31T18:26:18.079-05:00Happy Halloween!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263463221632710802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SQuT6b3AOJI/AAAAAAAAAgg/wvotc7v6HiQ/s320/DSC03086.JPG" border="0" /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SQuT63qxuII/AAAAAAAAAgo/w9EYlTyQ8Yw/s1600-h/DSC03060.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263463229097621634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SQuT63qxuII/AAAAAAAAAgo/w9EYlTyQ8Yw/s320/DSC03060.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-46405698594596204942008-10-25T14:11:00.002-05:002008-10-25T14:14:36.316-05:00True.Watch this one first, to refresh your memory:<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/L38wthA4Ld0&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/L38wthA4Ld0&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />How things have <em>changed</em>!<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Qq8Uc5BFogE&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Qq8Uc5BFogE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-60242089894795362182008-10-19T17:05:00.003-05:002008-10-19T17:13:05.805-05:00Taking another look...Thank you, General Powell, for putting it all back into perspective. My favorite quote from the actual interview on the show was when he addressed the question people are asking about Obama and whether or not he is Muslim:<br /><br /><em>"I'm also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say. And it is permitted to be said such things as, "Well, you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim." Well, the correct answer is, he is not a Muslim, he's a Christian. He's always been a Christian. But the really right answer is, what if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer's no, that's not America. Is there something wrong with some seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she could be president? Yet, I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion, "He's a Muslim and he might be associated terrorists." This is not the way we should be doing it in America."</em><br /><em></em><br />This is a clip from a short interview he gave after finishing on "Meet the Press." It is only about two minutes long. Take a look:<br /><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nh_c5bbvmqc&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nh_c5bbvmqc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27266223/">Click here</a> for the entire transript of the "Meet the Press" interview.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-52554478259197253222008-10-11T23:08:00.002-05:002008-10-11T23:23:54.740-05:00Who am I kidding?We're up in Mystic, Connecticut right now... My cousin, Amy, is getting married tomorrow. While it rained both days that we were driving up here, the weather has been absolutely gorgeous while we have been in town. I actually should have brought some clothes better suited for warm weather; I thought it would be much cooler while we were here!<br /><br />My family is loving their first chance to meet Sparky. He's been slightly fussy lately, which is kind of unusual for him. Then, this morning, what should appear but a tiny little tooth poking through his bottom gum! I would be cranky, too! One day after his sixth-month birthday, Sparky sprouted his first little tooth...<br /><br />I had efficiently procrastinated doing some schoolwork before leaving town for a few reasons. Reason #1 was that I was so freaking busy getting everything ready for our trip that I simply didn't have time. Reason #2 was that I rationalized that I would have some down time on the road and here in the hotel between events to get some stuff done. Haha! Riiiiiiight....<br /><br />In addition to the test that I have to make up on Thursday and the client notes that I have to finish before my supervision on Thursday morning, I got a nice email from one of my professors reminding us of a paper that is due in class on Wednesday night. Son of a... While the paper won't take that much time to throw together and the notes aren't a huge time burden, I'm really stressing about finding time to study sufficiently for the test, especially considering how far behind on the reading I am in that class.<br /><br />Anyway, I guess I could be using this time to study or work on the paper or on my notes, but it is 12:15 a.m. Eastern time and I think it will just have to wait until we begin the drive home on Monday...<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256118196725801394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SPF7pt1O4bI/AAAAAAAAAgY/4LPVLat2ono/s320/homework.jpg" border="0" />Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-44622030081339540032008-10-03T20:52:00.002-05:002008-10-03T20:55:08.126-05:00Don't Vote<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-UaRXvRwhOk&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-UaRXvRwhOk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />The deadline for registration for the upcoming election is October 8 in the state of Missouri. I know that I have made my views pretty clear on this blog in recent months, but I strongly encourage everyone to vote, whether you agree with me or not. Preferably, if you agree with me, but you know... :o)<br /><br />BTW - The video has some funny parts, if you have a couple minutes. Sarah Silverman is pretty good.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26532377.post-10370411464970684912008-09-30T15:43:00.006-05:002008-09-30T16:02:16.279-05:00Now, if I could just get this thing out of reverse...Not-so-little Sparky is growing faster than I'd ever imagined possible. At 5 1/2 months, he is almost out of his 6-9 month size clothes. Here is a picture of the five bags of baby clothes I packed up to hand-down to his cousin, Ethan, who will be born in a few weeks. While five grocery bags of clothes might not look like a lot of clothing, you have to remember that baby clothes are little. This is probably the equivalent of 5 or 6 huge trash bags stuffed full of adult clothes.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251918846704515682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwvTRQNY72M/SOKQXX8AemI/AAAAAAAAAfs/o5t8qzWA3ZI/s320/DSC02605.JPG" border="0" /><br />We did choose a few things to keep: The first little onesies that Mike & Paula gave us when we found out we were pregnant, the sleeper he wore in the hospital, the Daddy's team baseball outfit he wore in his three-month photos and one or two others. It breaks my heart to give any of his clothes away... When I asked Dave if there was anything specific he wanted to keep, he said, "All of it." He's just growing up so fast!<br /><br />Part of growing up is becoming mobile. The Sparkster is now pushing up on his hands and knees and rocking back and forth. While this is not the best video of his skills, you get the picture. I asked a few moms that I know about how long their babies took to get from rocking to crawling. They said only a few weeks! It is possible that Sparky will be crawling by Halloween! Yikes! Slow down, baby!<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzgHHN9xazV5obID_vOPrKci6eA4IEfJSrakES6y2kxmlGVQLwGOyZrgVtlkMjmh4CRmpoIiuoubw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>On the topic of growing up too fast, I found the sweetest book today titled <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Let-Me-Hold-You-Longer/dp/1414300557">Let Me Hold You Longer</a></em> by Karen Kingsbury. Written in rhyme, it talks about how we sometimes focus on a child's "firsts" and miss the "lasts" - the last bottle we give a baby, the last time he falls asleep in your arms, the last hit in a Little League game. I teared up in the store while I was reading it and am tearing up again now. I love my little boy and want him to grow into an independent, intelligent, loyal young man... but, it is bittersweet, because I don't quite want my baby to grow up.Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06258853705075543782noreply@blogger.com6