Take Your Child Out Of School Day

Don't get me wrong: I think taking your child to work to learn about what you do is a great educational tool. However, I think it's stupid as all get-out to have it during the school year.

No, it's not that I mind having only two classes of kids, and three additional planning periods. No, I don't mind making up some fluff lesson about careers and math for only 40% or so of my students.

But it is such a stupid waste having this during the school year. And, it totally marginalizes careers in education.

I mean, if you are of school age, and your parent is a teacher, there's no reason to go to work with him or her on this day, as YOU SPEND MOST EVERY WEEKDAY FROM MID-AUGUST TO LATE-MAY WATCHING A TEACHER WORK. So it's not as if we have to have it during the school year so the children of teacher can get an idea of what this whole teaching-thing is about. Also, trust me, teaching on this day is NOTHING like teaching on most any other day of the year.

So, I move that we either change the name of this day to "Take Your Child Out Of School Day" or move it to the summer, when schools are traditionally not in session. Teachers with kids can take them to their summer job, or to the classes they are obligated to take... or choose some other way to show their kids to be sure to pick a career that recognizes hard work with financial reward, not scorn, heartache, and high blood pressure.

I kid.

But seriously, when you have only so many days to teach kids WAY too many objectives, days like tomorrow are just a huge frustration.

However, I will be enjoying having several hours of plan time tomorrow.

Coming soon: The Great Orange Juice Fiasco (it's fun... I nearly wreck my car!)

Flat Tire from Hell

Okay, it wasn't from Hell, but you know what, everything is right now, which is the point I want to make.

My schedule right now is so wall-to-wall, I'm going crazy. Yes, there are a couple of things I could cut out, and I know this, but these are the keeping-me-sane things (chorus and dinner with friends and bowling). Plus, if I cut them out, it would free up more time to work, which would be nice financially, but I'd be dead in a week.

Anyway, this morning, on my way to work, I had a flat tire. There went my WHOLE DAY!

I walked to NKC Hospital when I realized the tire WOULD NOT COME OFF (see the report on Christmas Day 2005 for a similar experience on my part) and called the school from there. Of course, the secretary didn't appreciate me starting off with, "This is Mark. I'm at NKC Hospital."

But someone sent the resource officer after me, and I got to school mostly on time.

Then my planning time started with Bowman (I'm sure I've said elsewhere what a great guy Bowman is, but I'll say it again, just to make the point clear: Bowman is a great guy) and I going to my car and trying to ge the flat tire off the car.

That done, we returned to school, where anything I was going to get done got almost done. I have an application for this summer learning thing to get completed, this other application for some sort of financial assistance completed, and--oh yeah, TAXES to get completed. WHEN!?!

Anyway, all my plans for AFTER SCHOOL were shot, because I had to go get a new tire. Wal-Mart took way too long, and the guy didn't read the note about the door being tricky to open, and he actually made my trick door handle WORSE. But, whatever, no time to kvetch and moan to management, because now instead of running my errand, calling Lyndsey, sneaking in a 30 minute nap, and THEN going to rehearsal, I had to go to rehearsal and arrive late.

Anyway, that's why everything is from Hell these days--especially if it unexpectedly takes up any of my time.

Okay, I am going to watch something on TV for a while, maybe a show I've taped, and then I'm going to get my stuff out of the dryer.

Hope all is well in everyone's world.

Church, Rounds Two and Three

Not that I'm wanting to compare it to a boxing match or anything...

The second week, I sat with JEC's sister, Robyn. Early on iin the visit, before things got started, I noticed a sign over the door I normally did not use. It read: SERVANT'S ENTRANCE.

I gasped, and made some comment to Robyn about it, and she laughed... then explained that the sign was over the door you were walking OUT of... so... SERVANT'S ENTRANCE to the WORLD, you see...

And plus, duh me, there was one just like it over the door I'd gone out the week before.

Anyway, it set a lighter tone for the service, and I felt okay for the whole thing.

Last week I sat with John, JEC's dad, and things were fine again. There's something internal going on with me, and I don't know what it is exactly, but at least it's not leaving me an emotional wreck each week.

And I'm liking going, so keep going I shall, methinks.

And methinks I use "methinks" too much.

Dryer

So, why am I on the computer, posting these things instead of sleeping?

I'm glad I assumed you asked me that question...

My dryer has some sort of timer issue. It doesn't know to stop after such-and-such time of drying. So I have to stay awake to finish my laundry (yes, I know, you get wrinkles if you turn on the dryer and then go to bed, but what do I care about wrinkles?) and it's just one more thing that's KILLING ME!

Because I'm all tired and stuff.

And the stupid part is, I have another dryer down there. I just need to take the time to hook it up... but it is a smaller capacity dryer, and plus, I don't have time to hook it up, with all the staying-up-late I'm doing to do laundry now.

So it goes.

Concert

As promised: THE CONCERT!

The concert went pretty well, I think. Maybe someone who attended can post a comment. I'm not a huge Judy fan myself, but I liked a lot of the songs in the concert.

I had a speaking part, and didn't sing most of the concert. I did have a solo, and apparently I have some sort of Ethel Merman-like attribute to my singing.

Finding my costume was a bit of a chore, and I don't know that I was as happy with the end result as I could have been with a huge budget, but it was okay enough. I think I was spoiled by my costume for the holiday concert in December. If you've seen the pic of me in a purple suit, I think you'll know why!

It was odd not rehearsing with the rest of the chorus for most of the concert. I missed that. I'm looking forward to this next one.

Some day I want everyone to come to the same concert, so I win the "most people came to see you" prize. I think there's a gift certificate of some sort.

Okay, everyone but Jhoneric, who can't stand the "hand jive" aspect.

GROSS

Well, I'm sure JEC can explain it better than I can, but I think that comment was either: 1) an honest reaction to me sharing emotions, etc., which, if I were to do in person--as I seldom do--would seem sorta strange to me (and him, methinks) or 2) an attempt to sound like a middle school girl who just found out there are urinals in the boys room. I'm not sure which... and those are just theories.

By Popular Demand

I should be going to bed, but I want to write this down before I forget some of the things I remembered earlier tonight...

I don't work as hard as I should to hide it, but in general, I have this wonderful wellspring of anger that I can pull from any time I need it. I don't mean "wonderful" in the good way.

Anyway, I coast at angry, with plenty more where that came from. It's there when I need it.

So, over the past... I don't know... 10 months or so, my cup of anger has just runneth over. I mean, I had an abundance to begin with, and now I've got it in spades.

Also, Andy-the-sometimes-commenter had made a comment to me in person about not everyone in a pew necessarily knows what they believe, and that stuck with me.

So, with these two things in my mind (the anger and the pew-thing), I'd been thinking--since late December, actually--of going to a church service where Andy-the-sometimes-commenter was... um... preacherizing... or ministerizing... or whatever the verb is. The big reason was I wondered if being at a service and singing some songs with a bunch of strangers who--in theory, anyway--weren't angry hate-mongers might help me with this overabundance of anger. So I planned to go the first Sunday of the year this year.

Well, there was always SOMETHING... the fact that I work the full-time teaching job and the 17-to-26 hour pizza delivery job (and thus have very little ME time--something else to get angry about) being the most popular reason... although that didn't start until February. January 1st was an issue because... well, it was January 1st.

Anyway, after much putting-it-off-ed-ness, I managed to figure out how to avoid avoiding it: e-mail Andy and say I was thinking of going, and needed to know what people tend to wear to this particular service--which was very true, because I have no clue about such things.

Thus, having said I was planning it, I had the additional motivation to actually wake up, shower, get gussied up, and attend.

This all came to pass, and at 10:20-something I was walking in to the doors (I wasn't sure if it was the right door, but it looked like the best bet) of the Methodist Church in question.

I saw Robin (Jhoneric's sister), her daughter Miranda, Andy, and John (Jhoneric's dad), and I made sure all of them knew Jhoneric was not to know of this trip of mine down the path of going-to-church-ed-ness.

There was something... almost from the time I woke up, really, but intensified once I was actually in the church--there was this something. I'll try to vague that up for you. Or clarify it.

It wasn't like an adventure, and it wasn't like anticipation. I guess it was mostly like... I don't know. Wonder? I don't know. I just had this sense of "Wow, this is not entirely outside my range of experience, but I haven't experienced anything in this range for a long while." That will have to do, but I'm not capturing the feeling.

Anyway, I opt to sit with John, and I read the program--or whatever it's called--and make chit-chat with John.

Alberta (Jhoneric's mom) was the liturgist (and judging by the context, that translates to "person who reads stuff"), and she started the service by saying, "Welcome home."

Now, promise me you'll read on even if you think I'm a total bastard after this next paragraph.

Without even a millisecond's thought, my brain said, "Oh, jeez, "welcome home", whatever."

And I didn't think anything of that reaction. It made perfect sense. I'm a cynical person. I know this.

Then the pianist started playing some song, and that was the end of the ball game. I don't think my brother Eddie is right--I don't think songs make people cry, but I do think music has it's own special key to everyone's heart, and it has a way of getting to places words alone cannot reach.

Yeah, okay, stupid, perhaps. But I hope you get the idea of what I mean.

There I was, crying, but trying real hard not to be loud about it. First of all, I didn't know WHY I was crying, so I didn't want to draw attention to myself, in case someone should ask. Secondly, can you imagine being John, sitting next to me, and suddenly I'm a basket case?

Part of it was me realizing that what Alberta said was... well, I mean true, but I don't like that word for what I mean, so... I don't know what I mean.

It was like someone in some foreign land said, "Welcome home," and just as I'm thinking "whatever", they open the door and right there is everything I've ever loved--most of which I thought I'd lost. I guess I mean like something that feels like finally coming home where you least expected it. But again, I'm saying it wrong. It's great that I'm so good with words, eh?

Anyway, I'm leaking out my eyes, hoping John isn't noticing and wondering if I'm more insane than usual. And prayers are the worst, because I instinctively close my eyes out of childhood habit, and when I open them, all this backed-up tearage comes running down my face.

I wanted to run out... or walk out in a "oops, I left the oven on... be back in a jiff" sort of way, but John was on one side, and... I can't remember who was on the other side. But I couldn't just slip out without people maybe glancing at my face and thinking, "Ah, nervous breakdown. How nice."

I kept wondering if there was a park nearby. I just wanted to get outside and breathe and try to come to grips with whatever had come over me, and maybe do so in a park sitting where I could sorta... collect my thoughts.

And, in TV terms, what was going through my head was from Season 6, Episode 22 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, when Willow, who was evil at the time, suddenly got a burst of magic that allowed her to feel what everyone was feeling, and she says, "It's too much... it's too much."

Seriously, folks, this was in the first 10 minutes or so.

As you may have guessed, when it came time to sing, I was worthless. Less singing and more croaking.

Anyway, when it came time for the message/sermon/what-have-you, I was maintaining a bit better.

Here's what I have to say about that part: If it's par for the course, I'm thinking I'm going to like this church. I won't go into the details here, in case Andy should decide to publish his collected what-have-yous, but the points that stuck in my head are: 1) Love is all you need. 2) It's not your love to give, just allow it to be given through you.

I would love to repeat the whole thing, but I didn't memorize it, and I've already gone on way too long here.

By the time the whole thing was over, I was less emotional and more about figuring out what happened to me.

Oh, and I knew I had to tell Jhoneric as soon as I got home, because I knew I wanted to come back... so, the sooner I got that over with, the better.

I didn't discuss what happened with JEC, but I did want to discuss it with SOMEONE. I had no idea who or when. I had a concert to perform in that late afternoon (more on the concert soon, I promise), so I couldn't bring it up to Tricia at their place--since I wouldn't be there. I wanted to talk to Patrick about it, but he ended up not working on Monday night. I was going to talk to Lyndsey about it, but by the time I got around to it Tuesday night at their place, Damien had gotten home, and I didn't think I could tell the tale for the first time to an audience of two.

Also, I've so firmly established myself as anti-church to so many people, I didn't want to have to deal with that aspect of the conversation. I spent a good part of my alone-time this week trying to figure out what that was all about.

Tonight (or this morning, I guess) after work, I just decided to talk to Patrick about it. So now I can share it with anyone on the internet who happens to stumble across it.

I'm going tomorrow... er... today. I'm hoping I'm not overwhelmed again. I'm hoping it's not as full of surprises--the internal emotional kind, I mean.. Hope springs eternal. Hope Springs, Indiana.

Wish me luck.

Spring Break: The End is Nigh

Well, Spring Break is almost over. I did accomplish many things I wanted to accomplish. It's too bad the concert was this weekend (and thus tech week was this week), because I would have enjoyed going out of town. Of course, if I hadn't been doing tech week, I would have had my schedule at Papa John's to think about, so never mind.

But, the Christmas decorations are now in the basment (I took them down on January 7th, as always, but as life has been a bit too busy of late, I hadn't been moved to get the boxes down in the basement until this week).

I've gotten some good rest, I think and the last 9 weeks of school (or however many it is) don't look as daunting as they did before I got this rest.

I've had an emotional Sunday, and maybe I'll go into the details later. I am feeling better today than I have for a while, anyway.

Also, I need to post the Saga of Mom's Ashes at some point. It's a tale rife with intrigue and confusion... the confusion caused mostly by the alcoholic villain of the piece. (Can you guess his name?) But that will have to come later. I need to get a nap in before tonight's performance. Or maybe I need to make breakfast/lunch. Something needs to be done, at any rate.

Not to mention those papers I need to finish grading.

There's the Cat, with the Nine, and the Physic

One of my favorite Patsy expressions is "I'm busier than a cat with nine assholes that's been given a physic."

And I am.

I'm working a second job now, and rehearsing, and working on the upcoming bowling tournament. In short: overextended.

Anyway, I hope everything is okay. Vieta sent me a great e-mail that made me smile a while back, and this is my shout-out to her for doing that.

Stay well, everyone.

What Four?

I got this from one of the sites listed below...

Four jobs I've had in my life:
Playwright
Desktop Publisher
Documentary Researcher
Pizza Delivery Guy

Four Movies I could watch repeatedly (and have):
Galaxy Quest
The Fifth Element
Dogma
'night Mother

Four Places I have lived:
Center, MO
Liberty, MO
Santa Monica, CA
Omaha, NE

Four TV shows I love to watch:
Anything in the Buffy-verse (this is how I get Buffy & Angel to count as one show)
Firefly
Farscape
Lost

Four Places I have been on Vacation:
Gettysburg, PA
Hershey, PA
Branson, MO
Las Vegas, NV

Four Websites I visit daily:
http://www.thismodernworld.com
http://wildersontour.blogspot.com
http://entertherainbow.blogspot.com
http://noticethelackofblog.blogspot.com

Four Favorite Restaurant Foods:
Chicken Burrito with the HOT sauce from Chipotle
The Mediterranean Pizza from Minsky's
Chocolate Malt from Sonic
Asparagus from Cafe Trio

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:
California (Los Angeles area)
London
Germany
Living in a cabin in some secluded spot far away from everyone and everything (it's a mind clearing thing, not a "I hate everyone"thing)

Four People I'm tagging:
I'm not. Feel free to post your FOURS in the comment section.

Four Categories I'd Like to Add, and My Four Items for Each:
Four Songs that Change Your Mood Upon Hearing Them:
Happy Doesn't Have to Have an Ending, They Might Be Giants
Brighten the Corner Where You Are, The Wilders
Life in a Northern Town, Dream Academy
By Your Side, "Godspell" soundtrack
Four People You Wish You Could Meet (or Could Have Met, if they've passed):
Jim Henson
Uncle Bud
Joss Whedon
Carol Burnett
Four Books You Would Re-Read (or Have Re-Read):
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books and the Dirk Gently books by Douglas Adams
Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Good Omens by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
The Harry Potter books by J.K.Rowling
Four Goals:
Debt-Free before Death
Help meet Dane's needs
Lose a kerjillion pounds
Get my middle-school-level book finished and published

So, How Was the Service?

No, I didn't join "the service".

The service for my aunt Lois was on Saturday the 28th of January. I had to be back in town that evening for a gathering in honor of me (scheduled by me... so it wasn't like I was getting an award or anything), so unfortunately I had to leave before I could get lots of feedback on the service from family members, but I got enough to learn it was fairly unanimously negative.

Keeping in mind that I hated Mom's service, I guess this did serve the purpose of making me think maybe it wasn't so bad.

Instead of lunch afterwards, we had lunch beforehand in the church basement. My aunt's brother-in-law said a prayer, and it was filled with lots of "Jesus, our personal lord and savior"'s, so once I learned he was the officiant--or whatever--I braced myself for an unbearable time. But, my aunt Rachel was there, and I would put up a good show of accepting it and moving on.

There was a bit of a visitation at 1:00, although we got up there at 1:15 or so. My cousin David had put together a video of his mom with pictures and stuff, and that was showing.

This was the same church as where Mom's service was, by the way, but with a different officiant. A guest speaker, as it were, would be officiating this show.

The service started and this guy begins by talking about knowing Lois when she was in high school, and talking about double-dating with his brother. He went on to talk about her life.

I thought it was... well, at the time I thought it was questionable judgment--and I don't know what I think now--when he sorta glossed over my aunts first marriage (by "glossed over", I mean "never mentioned it"), even though the daughter and granddaughters and great-grand-children from said marriage were present. But still, he shared a lot about her life, and then asked for people for memories of Lois.

I thought, "Wow! This is exactly what we wanted for Mom's service! This is going to be a pretty good deal."

Then, after three or four people shared stories from the pews, he said something along the lines of (maybe even these exact words), "Well, that's enough of that."

He then proceeded to explain that he knew Lois had heard the gospel, and he hopes she accepted Jesus as her PL&S (I'm already tired of typing the full thing out), because that is the only way she could have gotten into heaven. Once you die, he explained, there's no changing it. We have no way of knowing, he kept explaining, where Lois is.

I don't know about you, but what I want to hear most at a memorial service is, "Maybe she's in HELL."

Well, my first thought was, "I'm standing up and leaving. I don't remember Lois EVER mentioning Jesus, unless she hurt herself, and then I don't think she was speaking theologically."

But my aunt Rachel was directly behind me, and I didn't want to make her angry, or upset. Also, I wasn't sure how Rusty/Say/Lynne, who was sitting next to me, would feel about me doing that. So I sat and listened.

He went on to inform us that we were all sinners and evil, etc., and that if we didn't know Jesus, we could do no good. If we didn't know Jesus, the only reason we would try to do good is so that other people would look at us and say, "Look how good they are!" This differs from doing good so that Jesus, God, Santa, and Francine the Lucky Fish would look down from up on high (or from undersea, in the case of Francine) and say (or gurgle), "Look how good they are" in some way, I presume... I'm just not sure what.

Also, I don't think that's the only reason non-doin'-it-for-Jesus types do good. In fact, I think there are entire nations of people who would agree with me on this point.

Anyway, he railed on for what seemed like hours. At times he begged and asked what he could do to get whoever among us was not saved to cross over to the dark side, or whatever. My cousin Linda, my cousin Bryce, and I all had the same thought, I learned afterwards: Well, if you shut the *#@&! up, it would be a great start.

I guess it was closer to twenty minutes or so later that he finally remembered why we were there, and once again reminded us that, while he hoped Lois was in heaven, the jury was still out on that, and if that doesn't make you afeard enough to love Jesus and vote Republican, I guess he doesn't know what will.

Eddie was probably happy with the service, however, because they only had two songs, both being organ pieces with no singing, and thus nobody felt the need to cry.

Apparently my aunt Rachel wasn't happy, and might have even got up to leave with me, had I opted to go that route. I didn't hear this from her, so I could be misinformed there.

I still don't know how Mike, David, and Toni felt about it. I'm fairly sure Toni wasn't thrilled, but I don't know. I kept thinking during the service that maybe they wanted this sort of service. I mean, it's within the realm of possibility that this part of the family that I grew up less than two miles from had this whole super-religious secret life that I never saw or heard about. Then again, it's also within the realm of possibility that everyone but me is a robot, and aliens are testing me for some reason. Possibility is funny that way. And either story seems just about as likely to me--meaning to imply more about what I'm fairly sure the Cottrell's are like and less about my sanity.

Anyway, I spent a little time discussing it with my cousins, siblings, and niece, and I said words in a church that I can't believe I said--in case you haven't sussed it out, I was a bit angry after that service--but then I had to take off for K.C., so that I'd make it to my gathering on time. Which I did.

So, does anyone have comments about this service? Anyone want to theorize why I now seem to have this free-floating anger in me that doesn't know what to lash out about? Discuss amongst yourselves. I'll just listen in.

Everybody's Doin' It, Doin' It, Doin' It: Readin' My Blog and Chewin' It, Chewin' It

I don't have time to post the whole rant about Lois' service. I will do that soon (after I update my web page for February, probably). But I've been wanting to say the title of this entry ever since Peggy posted her "also chewing" comment.

When I first read Andy's comment, I wondered if I should be offended, what with the spoon-fed and all, but then I figured it was just a reference to the fact that when I BLAH, I tend to BLAH tons of BLAH all over the place. Then I figured I think too much.

Anyway: no time, no time. I just felt it was a respectable enough amount of time since the event I was posting about in the last post to make the crazy reference my brain went to when two commenting people said they were chewing my words.

Wow, that last sentence was a HUGE BITE of words. OPEN WIDE!

Say "Hi" to Mom, Deana Mae, and Uncle Bud for Me

Like most people, I'm sure, I don't remember my haircut chronology--partially because we tend to get our hair cut sometime before long-term memory sets in.

I remember there being a barber shop in Center, and I remember going there at a very young age to get my hair cut. I don't remember my age at the time, so I'll have to say "five or younger".

If Aunt Lois was cutting my hair before then, and this was just a special case, I don't know. Someone in my family can probably clear that up for me, and no doubt will sometime before the upcoming weekend is over.

But for most of my childhood haircuts, it's Aunt Lois I remember. The Cottrell's (my mom's sister, her husband, and three kids) lived on a farm not far from where Tricia grew up. I vaguely remember making that connection as a child, and always being amazed that Tricia lived so close by, but I never saw her there (because, you see, 'close by' when you're on a farm can mean... well, not so close by).

It was like an adventure to go out to see Lois, Jim, and Mike & David (I don't have many memories of Toni living there, as she's older than my brother, Todd, who was graduated from high school when I was finishing up 6th grade). There were REAL, LIVE FARM ANIMALS, and also a pond, dogs, cats, and I seem to remember a time when there were pet rabbits... or rabbits, anyway. Maybe they were being grown for food. I don't remember the details on that.

Lois and Mom would talk, and they both would laugh a lot, and Lois would cut my hair... and the hair of any other kid mom had brought out for a haircut. While she was cutting my hair, I enjoyed making Lois laugh (probably because I enjoyed making anyone laugh).

I remember the house before and after they did some remodeling. I remember going out there for a Christmas or two.

When I was a kid, it seemed like they lived so far away. I remember once I turned sixteen, I drove by their house out in the country a couple of times, but it wasn't so far then. My world had gotten so much bigger. I'd lost more innocence, in a sense--the kind of innocence you lose when you find out for you entire life your world has been so much smaller than the actual world.

They had those cattle-rail-thingies that seemed so cool be going over when riding with mom in the car. They had a creek.

Several years ago, Leslie and I were in Center together for a visit. I went with her out to the farm to visit with Lois.

It was a horrible visit for me. When we got in the car, I told Leslie I couldn't go back there again. Lois had aged so much, it had seemed, and this image I had of her from when I was younger was just shattered. Oops, there goes some more innocence--when I thought I was too old to have any left. Time to learn the people from your youth--even people you love and hold dear to you as part of your childhood... maybe even ESPECIALLY those people--don't stay trapped in amber, waiting for you to return.

Lois and Mom shared a room at the nursing home up until last September, when Mom decided she had better places to be on some other plane of existence. I don't think they knew each other by then, but maybe their souls still did, to make up for what the mind wasn't able to do any more. Who knows?

Lois passed away this morning at 4:30. It wasn't a shock, as Leslie had called to tell me Lois' blood pressure had dropped a lot, and they didn't think it was going to be long.

I feel awful for Mike, David, Toni, Toni's girls, and grandkids. Having been there recently, I wouldn't want to be going through that for all the money on Earth. I'm wondering if there's anything I can say to them that would actually be helpful, or comforting. I'm trying to remember what--if anything--was said to me that gave me some sort of solace.

I also feel terrible for Aunt Rachel, the youngest of the five kids in the Hickerson family.

Deana Mae was oldest (she died of a heart attack, I think, in 1987 (again, I think)). It seems like her funeral was a million years ago, but I still remember so many weird details about it the service and the days before it.

Uncle Bud was the next oldest... although he died the youngest. He died at Iwo Jima when he was a very young man (I want to say 19, but he could have been 20). I'll always wonder what I missed by never knowing him, and what I missed by knowing my mom and my aunts after they experienced that loss at such a young age. Lately, I wish he was around for me to ask, "How do you feel about what you sacrificed so that we could live free, and how do you feel about the large number of people in this country who are willing to just hand over their civil liberties and freedoms because they think that's the patriotic thing to do?"

Mom died in early September, and now Lois is gone.

Having had my fun experience this summer, I know I do have this strong desire to live, but I still catch myself trying to convince myself I don't care one way or another. And if the series of emotions I went through that day holds true when it really is time for me to die, I feel pretty confident I'll reach a "Whatever... what power do I have over my fate if it's time to die" place.

I can say for sure that given the choice of being the first sibling to go or the last, I'd choose first. I'm not even sure I'd choose second. Me going is a piece of cake. A brother or sister going--even one that I can't stand right now--that's going to be a lot.

Yes, even one that I can't stand right now. That's what really sucks about death. It's so FINAL. There's no guarantee of anything after it, so for all you know, what you have left undone is left undone. Everything you've left unsaid remains unsaid. Your last words to them remain your last words to them, no takebacks.

So my death falls WAY below the death of most anyone else I know, mainly because I'm not going to have to be here for the aftermath of my own.

I hate the way time steals people. In a way, just like with Mom, I feel Lois was taken some time ago. When we'd visit the nursing home, I couldn't tell if Lois had any idea who I was.

There's this great picture of the five of them, and nobody can seem to find it. One of the sisters (Lois, I think) had one, and she had copies made for each sister... but nobody can find their copy. I want a copy so badly, and if I ever get one I'm going to scan it and put it here.

They're all five school-aged, and standing beside a house (according to Rachel, it's the house across the street from the house I grew up in). Deana Mae and Uncle Bud both look nearly-adultish, but they're all together; they're all young.

I think of how long it has been for them since they've all been together, and it sorta makes my heart ache.

And that's when I wish for an afterlife.

An Update in Haiku

Now the crows are gone.
Aunt Lois is winding down.
She may see Mom soon.

These Creepy Crows are Creeping Me Out!

Okay, I need a crowologist or whatever to explain to me why there are--seriously--hundreds of crows in the trees around my house.

Maybe there are crows in trees around everyone's house, and I haven't noticed.

Seriously, there are at least two hundred of them total in the tree behind my house and the trees in my neighbors yard, and I think they're are hundreds in a few other trees around here, too.

It's 10:30-ish and I can hear them cawing out there. It's crazy creepy. This has been going on for... well, days, at least... if not a couple of weeks.

I'm trying to remember this happening last year... or the year before... or any of the other years I've lived here, and I don't seem to remember the whole Crowapalooza thing.

And I'm no supernaturalist or whatever, but I've read enough creepy stories and seen enough creepy movies to be creeped out by CrowCon 2006. Like aren't crows supposed to escort souls or something? Because that's a LOT of dead folk. Either that, or it's gonna be my turn soon and they figure my soul is extra-heavy.

I think I'll try to get a picture of them during daylight hours tomorrow. If you have a... um... I don't know what crows come in, but I know I should... murder, isn't it? Am I making that up? "A murder of crows" sounds familiar. Anyway, if you have a murder (or whatever) of crows where you are, could you comment so I can feel less creeped out?

An Irresistible Force Meets a Nearly-Immovable Object

That headline is how I sum up my holiday season. For reasons that may seem obvious to some, and not-as-obvious as others, I approached this holiday season in a "I'm-not-sure-I-want-to-do-this" state of mind. So as the days rolled on, I was just being moved along much like the nearly-immovable object.

Yeah, part of it was being afraid the holiday season would be depressing, but also I've got all kinds of stupid stress from trying to resolve my Gordian knot of a life. If I tug at Spot A it just makes things worse at Spot B.

I'm sorta approaching my birthday with the same mentality, but I've opted for the party as a way of forcing my hand, and maybe enjoying myself. Of course, if you've met some of my friends, you know that's impossible.

That would be one of the curses of my life: friends who don't get along.

For the most part my friends are pretty get-along-able, but it seems like my whole life I've always had to have that one good friend who isn't as much about sharing me.

Shawn Couch used to hate anybody that I befriended. Not in a "I hate you" sort of way, but more of a tell-me-he-doesn't-like-them-when-they're-not-around sort of way.

I still have that, but with more drama.

Some day I'll have a birthday party and all my friends will make it (or, if they cannot make it, they'll at least not make it without drama and attention-getting tactics). But by then I'll be too old to enjoy it.

However, this event will be a fun event anyway. Since I have so many people from so many parts of my life coming together, it's going to be like a mixer.

Now, if only I can get Spot A fixed so I can get Job A and Job B, thus taking care of Debts A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I... you get the idea.

I don't feel like I'm about to end my 39th year on this planet. I'm too young to be this old!

Which Day of Christmas is it Today, Anyway?

I'm forever confused about the whole Twelve Days of Christmas thing. Do you count Christmas Day as the first Day of Christmas? One would think so. But then, why is Epiphany when it is? I'm all confused. Some day I'd like to start hosting a yearly Feast of the, but I'd like to a) have a nicer setup here at my house and b) know and understand when one should have a Feast of the, and where it falls in the whole Twelve Days thing.

But enough about that.

I got to the Omaha area on time, and to Logan, IA about 30 minutes late, but it turned out I had the time wrong for some reason that makes no sense (it's all about my stupid brain, mostly), and was actually about 210 minutes late. But at least I got Say a gift she wanted, and one of the three things I got Jordan wasn't something she already had.

I met Carrie's current beau, and was surprised to see Wade & Dane there, because I didn't know they were going to be there--although it is apparently entirely possible I received e-mails explaining they would be there, as I received e-mails saying we were eating at 4:00 at the latest.
Peggy was there, and seemed to be adapting to life in this part of the country, although some of her drawl came with her from whichever Virginia it was she'd been living in. This reminds me, I need to update a lot of people's info on my website. But I digress...

I slept on the floor in the spare bedroom (Dane got the bed), and I now know for sure that I am too old to be sleeping on the floor. I must invest in a good air-mattress (preferably one of those tall ones).

Jordan unwrapped her stuff from Santa the following morning, and our caravan of four vehicles was on the road by 8:00 or so. Wade and Dane took the lead, followed by me, then Leslie & Jordan, then Ruth. Apparently my speedometer is off, so after stopping at a nearby Kum & Go (where I realized I forgot to get Adam and Allison gifts), it was decided I would follow Leslie, keeping up with her.

Wade called several Wal-Marts to see if any were open and on our way to Center, but no such luck. So Adam and Allison received gifts from either a Stuckey's or an analog of Stuckey's. As it turned out, they were good choices, albeit not books, which I prefer to give.

Not far from Macon, Ruth passed us, and Leslie pulled up beside me to try to communicate (yes, I still have no cell phone) that she was stopping at Macon, but Ruth and Wade were not. I didn't know if that meant I was to stop or not, so I opted to keep going.

Luckily, Ruth decided to get behind me. Apparently visions of deadly car accidents danced in her head.

About five miles or so from Center, on Route A, I had a flat tire. Hooray!

I pulled over on a gravel road, and started to change it. Ruth waited with me, and Leslie & Jordan arrived about the time I was jacking up the car.

Leslie decided to drive on, but Jordan wanted to stay with us, as it wasn't going to be long (I just had to change a tire, after all).

Well, surprise of surprises, not all went smoothly. Apparently the tire was FROZEN TO THE... hub, or whatever.

Much wallerin' around under the car to kick at the tire (and risk getting crushed if the jack fell) and several minutes later Ruth drove Jordan and I the rest of the way to Center.

Wade gave me some liquid wrench and a big ol' hammer, and Ruth and I went back to finish the job.

When the tire came off, I got out from under the car, stood up, waving my arms (and the big hammer) in the air, and shouted, "It's a Christmas miracle!"

Anyway, blah blah blah Christmas and good times followed... well, a shower for me followed, then the Christmas and good times.

It's nice to be able to hang out with my family, and my inner child is freaking out that I just typed that.

Leslie, Dane, and I went to see that Narnia movie, then we took Dane to his doctor's appointment, where he was kind enough to hopefully help Dane's mystery swelling go away, but also kind enough to inform Dane (and I) that there might be bad things going on.

But I'm gonna hope for the less bad thing. You can, too.

Anyway, I came back on Wednesday, got some more shopping done, and went to see The Producers last night. Also, I had dinner at Cafe Trio, and I loved it. I especially loved their asparagus. I want to know how they prepared it.

Tonight I bowl. Tomorrow I go to a party (or some parties), and then on Sunday it is the traditional New Year's Day gathering at Patrick & Leighs.

Also, Tricia and I need to discuss my maybe birthday party. Or birthday maybe party, since there is no doubt I'm going to have a birthday... just maybe not a party.

Happy New Year, everyone, in case I don't get to post it before then!

Merry Christmas, Everybody!

I'm running late! Raise your hand if you're shocked!

Here's my 2005 Christmas Card (with letter): http://www.discoverynet.com/~mtriggs/covr2005.html

Everybody have a safe and happy holiday weekend!

Where has December gone?

It's the 22nd? When did that happen? I haven't had the type of December I like to have. I have only done the "veg out in front of the tree" thing about two times.

There was another snow day on the day after the aforementioned snow day, and I knew about it the night before, so I got some time in then.

Remember, people, this is my therapy.

Oh, and if you ever want to be shocked at who reads your blog, toss in some offhanded exaggeration about the number of people who read it! Turns out my 2nd grade teacher and my 7th grade science teacher are rumored to read this thing. Who knew?

I'm THIS (picture fingers very close together) far from having my ducks in a row for these two part-time jobs I'm wanting to get, and once those come through, I'll be well on my way to being debt- (and free-time-) free! Hooray for everything!

I'll probably get my online Christmas card... actually, it's a Holiday card, since I include New Year's in there (hate to burst anyone's bubble, but there's a perfectly reasonable... um... reason to use the "Holidays" thing... THERE ARE TWO HOLIDAYS ONE WEEK APART, AND ARE INCLUDED IN THE WHOLE "HOLIDAY SEASON" THING. Okay, rant over. Nothing ruins Christmas like non-Christian self-proclaimed Christians going around wishing you a Merry Christmas as if the act of wishing you a Merry Christmas was some sort of weapon or act of insurrection. See this entry on one of the blogs I read. And then read this comic.)

Anyway, back to the original thought: I'll probably get my online card and my Christmas letter finished and posted today. I'll link from here as well, in case I miss anyone with my mass e-mail (and apparently I will, since more people than just the 3 I was counting in my head seem to read this).

I'll put an update on here when I'm done. Check back frequently!

Snow Day!

Last night around 9:00, while I was on the phone with Tricia, I got the best message in the world: "Mr. Riggs, this is Mrs. Pamperl. We will not be having school tomorrow."

I still woke up at 5:30, but at least I got to go right back to sleep... which lasted until 8:00.

Now that I've killed a few hours, I think I'm going to finish decorating, clean my spare bedroom, clear the front walk for the postman, and grade the papers I brought home with me.

Because there's nothing like a Snow Day to help you relax!