Bob and I spent six years living in married student housing at Indiana University/Bloomington while he was working on his degree, with three little girls in tow, and thus we were surrounded by many cultures. My dad used to say we lived in a mini-UN. Our eldest had a map of the globe on her wall, and since our kids attended the university elementary school, we realized that she knew children from every continent save one (Antartica—does anyone actually live there? BRRRrrrr!)Continue reading “Not just the click of a button”
In the mass hysteria that is the superhero-universe phenom, here are a couple of guys that are somewhat overlooked:
Give it time. Hollywood will find a way.
The other kind of hornet is more real in my personal experience as a school nurse, however. One of the custodians in my school building was called to go kill a wasp or two flying around inside the building one the second day of school because there were a couple of kiddos registered as “allergic”. (SOOOooo glad the teachers read my notes to them—thank you and I love you!!)
I’m intrigued by the story of the people of Gibeon who, seeing destruction on the horizon in the form of the relentlessly advancing Israeli nation coming out of the desert, decide to don some thrift-store thread bares and make like they’ve come from afar. In so doing, Joshua, the Hebrew leader, thinks these are actually NOT people slated for destruction (per God’s instruction) but just neighboring folks, so he makes a binding oath to leave them alone.
After the gig is up, and Joshua realizes he’s been duped, (and that it’s too late to reneg…being God’s reputation and all), the Gibeonites become their servants, which means they are now under Israeli protection as well.Continue reading “How much more?”
I suppose Bob and I are at that age where we should be skimping on the sodium. I’ve cooked low fat for so many years, no problem that. But cooking low salt?? Man, that’s just plain HARD! I know, whine, whine. I guess we could just live on celery…
…until I found out that celery is a culprit for gout. Then there’s all the fuss about sugar.
My daughters try to tell us that flavor in food is actually not a bad thing. Now, c’mon, in our defense we do have flavor, but really there’s just nothing quite like salt. After all, there is one whole Continue reading “Pass the salt, please”
Somebody once said that hindsight is 20/20. I don’t think so. I think we can still be blind as a bat without some well-fitted spectacles in the form of serious contemplative wisdom. I don’t know much (at all) about physics—that’s my brother the Purdue engineer’s department. But I’ve heard there’s something out there called Chaos Theory. I like that term. I sometimes feel I’m the embodiment of it. No need to take classes on that one, just come read my autobiography, which I haven’t written yet since I’m still living it. As I’ve said before, my life seemingly doesn’t come in “seasons”; it prefers to come in “spasms”.
A good friend of mine told me about the local Red Cross blood drive that was happening here in town. I hadn’t donated blood in a L-O-N-G time, and since someone dear to me in my family had just had a transfusion, it was obviously still in my frontal lobe. That, plus I was on summer vacation, plus I have one of the rarest blood types (B negative), so no excuses. Drink some extra water, grab a protein bar, and I’m off.
There’s a family story about my mom back when we were kids. She had the rarest type of blood, AB negative. That’s always fun, since if you’re in a car wreck or some such awful thing, and you need a lifesaving transfusion, you might be in a world of hurt. Continue reading “Inventory”
I have a habit of biting off more than I can chew.
Now, that’s an analogy that needs no explanation; it’s just part of our vernacular, which probably means that there are a WHOLE BUNCH of us that do it. Frequently. Constantly chewing and rarely swallowing between bites.
Like signing up for a 50-mile two-day bike hike when I was in high school with no serious preparation, wishing in mid-stride I could fall off and ride the rest of the way in the S.A.G. (Support And Gear) vehicle. “SAG” is aptly named for another reason…Continue reading “I didn’t sign up for this…(sez who??)”
TO THIS DAY, I still have middle-schoolers walking around with their shoes untied! Kids! This is NOT a fashion statement, this is a HEALTH HAZARD! You trip, then I have to take care of you!
Remember teaching your little ones to tie their shoes? Some used the bunny ear technique. In my house, we used the old-fashioned loop/knot design. It all takes time and practice, but then, of course, my youngest ended up wearing flip-flops to high school in January, so why bother?
I really like dogs, man’s best friend and all. But there are a few I could do without, admittedly. Just a few. I’m not even talking about the yappy fur balls that are a perverse progeny of wolverine descent; they have a purpose in that they make some people happy. No, I’m simply referring to the dangerous ones out on the country roads that don’t like cyclists.
Granted, most big back-road hounds will just bark and run, and when I stop and give them treats (which I carry), we make friends with each other. I actually used to go out to see a Great Dane—fell in LOVE with her, and she tried to get in my lap, hilarious!
One winter day, as I was riding without Bob, I was accosted by a particular nasty that decided his property included the road. So I did what my husband had taught me, getting off my bike to put it between me and my enemy. As I began to back up, the dog followed, snarling and barking, indicating he had one thing on his mind—a piece of me. (Unfortunately, another big one had joined him on the other side of the street, so now I had tandem trouble.)Continue reading “Or you could just peddle faster…(ha!)”
This week I had my last “first” day of the kiddos returning to school. As if that isn’t enough to make a school nurse’s hair stand on end, add to it that I work at public middle school, where hormones run rampant and drama is just a part of life. Everything from “do you have any Super Glue for my broken [plastic, garishly painted, glamor] fingernail” to where-did-I-put-my-multi-page-child-abuse-form,…it tends to land in my office.