Yep, I'm still on the ADD kick. Bear with me, because I rarely stick with one topic for more than two posts. If this is boring, try again tomorrow.
For a struggling Christian, prayer is an important part of this path for life. It is a path where every single day one has to choose to put God first. This is difficult with the "world" screaming in our ears at every turn, "Put yourself first." Hair ads, "You're worth it." Skin medications that promise a more youthful glow. Six inch heals -- please tell me what they are supposed to do? Ankle doctors must love them!! Vacation ads showing tanned, young people on the beach. Vitamins, supplements, apple cider vinegar, and it goes on and on.
Well, ADD and prayer don't go along so well together. With a hunter/gatherer brain, sitting still, being quiet, listening for God's voice, repeating prayers, and contemplating what I cannot see is really difficult. It usually results in failure, so I've thought, perhaps God wants me to go about praying in a different way. Thus I take the words of St. James very literally, "Pray always." As I go about the day, I try to keep God at the center of it. With my grandchildren, as I drive to and from places, as I listen to the day's news, as I read the prayer requests forwarded to a group of us from Julie Barkey -- I talk to God. If he has numbered the hair on our heads, if he knows when the sparrow falls, if he fought off every temptation the devil could throw at him, then my efforts are not in vain. Sometimes I say short prayers throughout the day.
If I have any sort of pain, I immediately offer it up. If someone I care about is hurting, I hurt too and I offer that up.
We have to work at trusting God. It is completely counter-intuitive to this world's thinking to trust in God. And yet we are in the world daily and we must wage this war. It brings to mind the St. Michael prayer, doesn't it?
I have had some very strange encounters in my life, touches from God. One day as I was leaving work at UA, it was just a sheet of ice on the sidewalk leading to the parking deck. I was wearing dress shoes and had no traction. A man was coming the other way towards me and he asked, "Are you going to be all right?" I answered, "I think so. I'll just go very slowly." And then he said something extraordinary, "I'll pray for you." Wow.
Another time I was walking down that same sidewalk towards Children's Hospital to see my granddaughter who was hospitalized there for her epilepsy. The sidewalk narrowed at one point to where only one person could pass. A woman wearing a cloth on her head was coming the other way, and I stepped to the side to allow her access. As she went by me, she said words to the effect that she would pray for me.
I'll keep trying to do traditional prayer. Julie Barkey gave me a CD of the rosary with no background music, no distractions, and it does help. I can usually concentrate on maybe three of the five decades in total. The Divine Mercy chaplet is also something that I can usually follow. What I'm saying here is that I've got to try harder!!!
When we pray, our words aren't just floating up in the air and disappearing. They are reaching the notice of God. They are never wasted.
Choose the Lord. Make Him first. All other things will follow.
Light of Christ
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
ADD
Let me tell you the saga of our family and ADD.
First, where did it come from? My best guess is my dad's side of the family, and that's because of some rather telling information that's been passed down about a few members. My mom's side of the family appears to be quite blameless, since no one had any particular problems in school or otherwise.
When I was in elementary school, I dreaded teacher conferences. My mom and sister would always give me the report that, "Karen daydreams." I knew that. I'd be sitting in class and minding my own business, when all of the sudden I'd look up and everyone was getting a book out of their desk and turning to a specific page. If I asked for help from someone, there was always the risk of getting in trouble. So I did the best I could to try and catch up. As time went by, I quit answering in class and simply tried to be invisible. The assessment I had of myself was something like this: dumber than a box of rocks. A lot of stress and effort went into keeping my stupidity a secret from my family, all of whom seemed to excel. When we were asked to choose teams at school, my heart literally dropped an inch or two, because I knew my name would be called last or second to last. The kids knew I was dumb as a box of rocks too. And I was apparently alone in this in my family.
That is, except for my older sister, but since I was born 15 years after she was, I didn't hear about all of the stories until years later. Like how she would spell her name, "NAOJ," in school -- a sure signal for dyslexia which I did not have. How she struggled in school and somehow by an almost miracle she made it through nurse's training and received the coveted RN.
College sure seemed far fetched for someone like me, but in a strange twist of events, the Dean of Girls at my high school met with my sister (my mother by this time was deceased). She told her that I had scored high on IQ tests and should go to college if at all possible. So I did indeed go. At first it was really tough. I didn't know how to study whatsoever. Finally, I came up with my own individual style of studying. I'd sit on the bed in my room and look at the lecture notes. I'd recreate the lecture that I'd heard in class, and go over and over it until I could recite the lecture by looking only at the top line of each page. My grades shot up; I graduated!!! Apparently, only 40% of those with ADD make it through college.
Then in another twist of fate, I ended up working at The University of Akron. I loved the academic atmosphere, and worked at that time in the Department of Accounting. My boys were older and one of them was trying to figure out algebra. Finally, I brought the problems into work one day and the department chair worked on them for a while and tried to show me how he got the answers. I remarked to no one in particular, "I think maybe I have some kind of brain dysfunction."
When my older son went to college, he also struggled. He liked playing volleyball just as much as studying, in fact much more, so he sometimes neglected the work he should have been doing. He was now 23 years old. I wondered if he would ever graduate.
My sweet, dear friend, Kathy Rhodes, had died some time before I picked up the Akron Beacon Journal one day and read a prominent article -- about adult ADD. I don't know why she came to mind, but to this day, I know that Kathy had something to do with me seeing that story. Because when I read it, the hair on my neck rose and I got the chills. It not only described me to a tee; it described my son to a tee. He had gotten by in school, but even his second grade teacher knew there was something not quite right.
I prayed for just the right time to mention what I had read to my son. The time came, and he was very open to the information. I found a doctor in Akron who treated adult ADD and my son went in for an examination. He went to Kent, Ohio for a special test that the doctor liked to give adults. Then we went in for the results. My own ADD was self-diagnosed, but my son's wasn't. He was clearly ADD; the tests showed it. But the doctor's wonderful explanation and summary were what stuck in my mind. He told my son, "You have a wonderful, fast brain. You should be getting all A's in school. I've given this test to a lot of people and you scored the second highest of anyone. I scored the highest and that's because I knew what was coming."
We all turned a corner that day. Now I knew the real reason for my struggles in school that I'd always blamed on my mother's illness and father's drinking. Now I knew the reason for my son's problems. Now we could do something about it.
Nope, it's not about medicine, at least not for us. It's about learning to use your brain so that you compensate for the difference. It's about embracing what an ADD brain can do. It's about accepting yourself as a person who happens to have ADD. It's about learning to organize. It's about knowing that there may be some things you can never really figure out.
One day a student came into my office at UA. It was summer, and she was trying to figure out a schedule problem. I guess she felt like talking and I felt like listening, since she described some of her problems in school. "I can make it through to about the 10th week and then it starts going downhill." Sounded kind of familiar to me and I hesitated -- should I suggest to a complete stranger that she might have ADD? I did talk to her about it. I felt like God really wanted me to. A year or so later, one of the professors from Accounting sought me out to tell me that she had graduated, and "it's because of you."
So if you know someone with ADD or suspect as much, don't be afraid to talk about it. Believe me -- knowing is so much better than not knowing.
And those twists of fate in my life -- their are no twists of fate. God, God, God. And thank you, God.
First, where did it come from? My best guess is my dad's side of the family, and that's because of some rather telling information that's been passed down about a few members. My mom's side of the family appears to be quite blameless, since no one had any particular problems in school or otherwise.
When I was in elementary school, I dreaded teacher conferences. My mom and sister would always give me the report that, "Karen daydreams." I knew that. I'd be sitting in class and minding my own business, when all of the sudden I'd look up and everyone was getting a book out of their desk and turning to a specific page. If I asked for help from someone, there was always the risk of getting in trouble. So I did the best I could to try and catch up. As time went by, I quit answering in class and simply tried to be invisible. The assessment I had of myself was something like this: dumber than a box of rocks. A lot of stress and effort went into keeping my stupidity a secret from my family, all of whom seemed to excel. When we were asked to choose teams at school, my heart literally dropped an inch or two, because I knew my name would be called last or second to last. The kids knew I was dumb as a box of rocks too. And I was apparently alone in this in my family.
That is, except for my older sister, but since I was born 15 years after she was, I didn't hear about all of the stories until years later. Like how she would spell her name, "NAOJ," in school -- a sure signal for dyslexia which I did not have. How she struggled in school and somehow by an almost miracle she made it through nurse's training and received the coveted RN.
College sure seemed far fetched for someone like me, but in a strange twist of events, the Dean of Girls at my high school met with my sister (my mother by this time was deceased). She told her that I had scored high on IQ tests and should go to college if at all possible. So I did indeed go. At first it was really tough. I didn't know how to study whatsoever. Finally, I came up with my own individual style of studying. I'd sit on the bed in my room and look at the lecture notes. I'd recreate the lecture that I'd heard in class, and go over and over it until I could recite the lecture by looking only at the top line of each page. My grades shot up; I graduated!!! Apparently, only 40% of those with ADD make it through college.
Then in another twist of fate, I ended up working at The University of Akron. I loved the academic atmosphere, and worked at that time in the Department of Accounting. My boys were older and one of them was trying to figure out algebra. Finally, I brought the problems into work one day and the department chair worked on them for a while and tried to show me how he got the answers. I remarked to no one in particular, "I think maybe I have some kind of brain dysfunction."
When my older son went to college, he also struggled. He liked playing volleyball just as much as studying, in fact much more, so he sometimes neglected the work he should have been doing. He was now 23 years old. I wondered if he would ever graduate.
My sweet, dear friend, Kathy Rhodes, had died some time before I picked up the Akron Beacon Journal one day and read a prominent article -- about adult ADD. I don't know why she came to mind, but to this day, I know that Kathy had something to do with me seeing that story. Because when I read it, the hair on my neck rose and I got the chills. It not only described me to a tee; it described my son to a tee. He had gotten by in school, but even his second grade teacher knew there was something not quite right.
I prayed for just the right time to mention what I had read to my son. The time came, and he was very open to the information. I found a doctor in Akron who treated adult ADD and my son went in for an examination. He went to Kent, Ohio for a special test that the doctor liked to give adults. Then we went in for the results. My own ADD was self-diagnosed, but my son's wasn't. He was clearly ADD; the tests showed it. But the doctor's wonderful explanation and summary were what stuck in my mind. He told my son, "You have a wonderful, fast brain. You should be getting all A's in school. I've given this test to a lot of people and you scored the second highest of anyone. I scored the highest and that's because I knew what was coming."
We all turned a corner that day. Now I knew the real reason for my struggles in school that I'd always blamed on my mother's illness and father's drinking. Now I knew the reason for my son's problems. Now we could do something about it.
Nope, it's not about medicine, at least not for us. It's about learning to use your brain so that you compensate for the difference. It's about embracing what an ADD brain can do. It's about accepting yourself as a person who happens to have ADD. It's about learning to organize. It's about knowing that there may be some things you can never really figure out.
One day a student came into my office at UA. It was summer, and she was trying to figure out a schedule problem. I guess she felt like talking and I felt like listening, since she described some of her problems in school. "I can make it through to about the 10th week and then it starts going downhill." Sounded kind of familiar to me and I hesitated -- should I suggest to a complete stranger that she might have ADD? I did talk to her about it. I felt like God really wanted me to. A year or so later, one of the professors from Accounting sought me out to tell me that she had graduated, and "it's because of you."
So if you know someone with ADD or suspect as much, don't be afraid to talk about it. Believe me -- knowing is so much better than not knowing.
And those twists of fate in my life -- their are no twists of fate. God, God, God. And thank you, God.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Second Episode of The Bible
The second episode of The Bible (History Channel) featured Samson, Saul, and David. David, the young Israelite, faces Goliath, the monstrous Philistine who has killed many and probably believes he is invincible.
When David, the sole Israelite to step forward, announces that he will fight Goliath, the crowd laughs and jeers believing that this will be like a human's foot squashing an ant. But David who was already anointed to be King and was in waiting, was not afraid. As a shepherd, David had to face the fierce wolves which would happily make off with the lambs if they could. He was not armed with a spear or protective coverings; he had a slingshot. Thus, he had practiced long and hard to achieve some expertise with this primitive tool.
Goliath, in fact, believing himself to be unbeatable, removes his helmet and exposes his bare head. David gets a rock out of his pocket, places it in the leather and pulls as hard as he can. When the rock hits Goliath squarely in the head, he goes down fast and hard. We would call it "blunt force trauma."
So who were the Philistines who seem to be such a thorn in the sides of the Israelites? I wanted to know too, so I looked it up. They were considered to be among the "sea people," and lived in an area of Canaan near a lake. They were first known to occupy that area more than 1000 years before Christ. Some believe that they came from Greece or the coast of Asia Minor. They adopted the Canaan language and ruled over five city states that included Gaza (which is the highly contested area that the Palestinians occupy near Jerusalem). They were, in fact, the most tenacious and deadly enemy of the Israelites.
Goliath boasts that if David beats him, the Phillistines will be the slaves of the Israelites. But when Goliath goes down, the Phillistines have no intention of being anyone's slaves and they fight.
I enjoyed this second of five episodes very much. It kept my attention, and made me curious to know more. After all, this is not mere history or stories. This is the Word of God.
You may have heard that Bill O'Reilly is working on a third book, Killing Jesus. They are in the research portion of the project at this time, and he mentioned the other day on his show that the killing of Caesar has important implications in the death of Jesus. The one thing that I always try to remember, though, is that Jesus wasn't put to death on the cross. He GAVE his life. It was his choice. And he gave his life for us while taking on the sins of the world. We cannot in our minds conceive of such a burden, such a pain, as what he endured.
I hope that even if you didn't start watching The Bible, you might give it a try tomorrow night.
Have a great weekend, and I'll be back with you on Tuesday.
When David, the sole Israelite to step forward, announces that he will fight Goliath, the crowd laughs and jeers believing that this will be like a human's foot squashing an ant. But David who was already anointed to be King and was in waiting, was not afraid. As a shepherd, David had to face the fierce wolves which would happily make off with the lambs if they could. He was not armed with a spear or protective coverings; he had a slingshot. Thus, he had practiced long and hard to achieve some expertise with this primitive tool.
Goliath, in fact, believing himself to be unbeatable, removes his helmet and exposes his bare head. David gets a rock out of his pocket, places it in the leather and pulls as hard as he can. When the rock hits Goliath squarely in the head, he goes down fast and hard. We would call it "blunt force trauma."
So who were the Philistines who seem to be such a thorn in the sides of the Israelites? I wanted to know too, so I looked it up. They were considered to be among the "sea people," and lived in an area of Canaan near a lake. They were first known to occupy that area more than 1000 years before Christ. Some believe that they came from Greece or the coast of Asia Minor. They adopted the Canaan language and ruled over five city states that included Gaza (which is the highly contested area that the Palestinians occupy near Jerusalem). They were, in fact, the most tenacious and deadly enemy of the Israelites.
Goliath boasts that if David beats him, the Phillistines will be the slaves of the Israelites. But when Goliath goes down, the Phillistines have no intention of being anyone's slaves and they fight.
I enjoyed this second of five episodes very much. It kept my attention, and made me curious to know more. After all, this is not mere history or stories. This is the Word of God.
You may have heard that Bill O'Reilly is working on a third book, Killing Jesus. They are in the research portion of the project at this time, and he mentioned the other day on his show that the killing of Caesar has important implications in the death of Jesus. The one thing that I always try to remember, though, is that Jesus wasn't put to death on the cross. He GAVE his life. It was his choice. And he gave his life for us while taking on the sins of the world. We cannot in our minds conceive of such a burden, such a pain, as what he endured.
I hope that even if you didn't start watching The Bible, you might give it a try tomorrow night.
Have a great weekend, and I'll be back with you on Tuesday.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
The Old College Dream
I am 66 years old, and last night I experienced yet another of what is termed the "college dream."
In this dream, I have been bragging to everyone that I'm about to graduate from college and that everything is all mapped out for me. Then I suddenly remember that I've been forgetting to go to class almost all semester. I don't know what to do. Should I drop the classes? What about graduating? Do I know any of the material? Can I catch up? And also, I can't find one of the books.
As the reality of the situation begins to sink in (in the dream), I realize that my hopes of graduation are all but dashed and that I must somehow find a job. So when I woke up this morning, that's what I was doing. Trying to figure out how to find a job.
As I shared this frustrating dream with my husband, he said he also remembered a dream. A strange man came to the house and I talked to him all day. He was very jealous. My son came over and said to my husband, "Well, Eric, this time you've really done it." Don't know what that was supposed to mean.
So here I am having a dream about career, job, success, and my husband is still worrying about the stuff that you would think as a 68 year old he had moved past. Wow. Men and women are really different, aren't they? That's what my boss always used to say. We approach virtually everything differently. The "Men Are From Mars; Women Are From Venus" kind of thing where you read your portion of the book that applies to women and then you read the part that applies to men. You agree with everything that Dr. Gray said about women, but the men's portion is weird and alien. It couldn't be right, could it? Turns out, it is.
Dreams of falling, crashing, and all of that usually go along with some sort of concern or crisis. Once I dreamed that I and a co-worker flew off the side of a cliff in a van, heading for certain death. It was quiet and peaceful as the van glided in the air, and I was eerily calm too. Until I woke up and my heart was pounding outside my chest!!
The "college dream" also usually comes when I'm doing something that takes me outside of my comfort zone. College is a great time of life, but it is also incredibly stressful. My 80-year-old sister has experienced the "college dream" many times in her life, and also one other one -- she is teaching first grade and it is now April, and she realizes that none of the kids can read.
We can learn something from our dreams. They don't have to be blown off as some transient electrical activity in the brain at night. They are part of God's plan, just like everything else that happens to us.
One native tribe cut off from all civilization has this tradition of gathering for breakfast in the morning. Then everyone shares their dreams from the night before, and the group speculates on the meaning of each dream. They have a virtually no mental health problems.
Dreams can be gifts. They can promote healing. They can be messages or warnings (like Joseph's messages in the Bible).
Sleep well, friends.
In this dream, I have been bragging to everyone that I'm about to graduate from college and that everything is all mapped out for me. Then I suddenly remember that I've been forgetting to go to class almost all semester. I don't know what to do. Should I drop the classes? What about graduating? Do I know any of the material? Can I catch up? And also, I can't find one of the books.
As the reality of the situation begins to sink in (in the dream), I realize that my hopes of graduation are all but dashed and that I must somehow find a job. So when I woke up this morning, that's what I was doing. Trying to figure out how to find a job.
As I shared this frustrating dream with my husband, he said he also remembered a dream. A strange man came to the house and I talked to him all day. He was very jealous. My son came over and said to my husband, "Well, Eric, this time you've really done it." Don't know what that was supposed to mean.
So here I am having a dream about career, job, success, and my husband is still worrying about the stuff that you would think as a 68 year old he had moved past. Wow. Men and women are really different, aren't they? That's what my boss always used to say. We approach virtually everything differently. The "Men Are From Mars; Women Are From Venus" kind of thing where you read your portion of the book that applies to women and then you read the part that applies to men. You agree with everything that Dr. Gray said about women, but the men's portion is weird and alien. It couldn't be right, could it? Turns out, it is.
Dreams of falling, crashing, and all of that usually go along with some sort of concern or crisis. Once I dreamed that I and a co-worker flew off the side of a cliff in a van, heading for certain death. It was quiet and peaceful as the van glided in the air, and I was eerily calm too. Until I woke up and my heart was pounding outside my chest!!
The "college dream" also usually comes when I'm doing something that takes me outside of my comfort zone. College is a great time of life, but it is also incredibly stressful. My 80-year-old sister has experienced the "college dream" many times in her life, and also one other one -- she is teaching first grade and it is now April, and she realizes that none of the kids can read.
We can learn something from our dreams. They don't have to be blown off as some transient electrical activity in the brain at night. They are part of God's plan, just like everything else that happens to us.
One native tribe cut off from all civilization has this tradition of gathering for breakfast in the morning. Then everyone shares their dreams from the night before, and the group speculates on the meaning of each dream. They have a virtually no mental health problems.
Dreams can be gifts. They can promote healing. They can be messages or warnings (like Joseph's messages in the Bible).
Sleep well, friends.
New Pope
Jorge Mario Bergoglio is now Pope Francis. There are a couple of interesting facts in this first sentence. Pope Francis is a Jesuit, an order founded by Ignatius of Loyola. And yet, he took the name of a holy man who founded the Franciscans, the Order of Clare and the Poor Clares.
Francis and his sister were from Assisi, a lovely area of Italy, and though extremely holy, Francis never did become a priest. As far as a local connection is concerned, the Poor Clares are the nuns who live at Sancta Clara on Market Avenue in Canton. The most famous Poor Clare is Mother Angelica, who did live at Sancta Clara and is from Canton.
Pope Francis appears to be very humble, and those who know him say that is so. He mingled with the people, rode the bus, and ashewed the trappings of being a Cardinal. His work was centered in Argentina, and he was born there, but the Italians are also celebrating because Pope Francis's father was Italian and emigrated to Argentina. He was a railroad worker.
As time goes by, we will learn much more about Pope Francis and how his time as Pope will affect the Catholic Church, to which 75 million Americans belong. A rather surprising fact, though, is that of the 75 million American Catholics, more than 12 million of them were not born in the United States.
Pope Francis asked for prayers. What an awesome responsibility he has.
Have a wonderful day! I'll post something tomorrow, but then I am off to Cleveland for a visit with my sister.
Francis and his sister were from Assisi, a lovely area of Italy, and though extremely holy, Francis never did become a priest. As far as a local connection is concerned, the Poor Clares are the nuns who live at Sancta Clara on Market Avenue in Canton. The most famous Poor Clare is Mother Angelica, who did live at Sancta Clara and is from Canton.
Pope Francis appears to be very humble, and those who know him say that is so. He mingled with the people, rode the bus, and ashewed the trappings of being a Cardinal. His work was centered in Argentina, and he was born there, but the Italians are also celebrating because Pope Francis's father was Italian and emigrated to Argentina. He was a railroad worker.
As time goes by, we will learn much more about Pope Francis and how his time as Pope will affect the Catholic Church, to which 75 million Americans belong. A rather surprising fact, though, is that of the 75 million American Catholics, more than 12 million of them were not born in the United States.
Pope Francis asked for prayers. What an awesome responsibility he has.
Have a wonderful day! I'll post something tomorrow, but then I am off to Cleveland for a visit with my sister.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Tom and Jerry
Have you seen the cartoons lately? Not very impressive, that's for sure. Umizoomies or something like that! They don't even resemble humans half the time.
My daughter-in-law told me yesterday that she really liked Scooby Doo when she was a kid. It's on one of the cartoon networks these days, but quite different. She said that the one blond kid and blond girl always did seem to like one another years ago, but it wasn't the focus of the show. NOW, there is all this stuff going on between the characters and it is the focus of the show. So who is supposed to be watching?
I switched to one cartoon yesterday and it was so graphic and scary for Drew that it went bye-bye. Back to something that makes sense. A little violent, yes, but kids have been watching Looney Toons forever and most of these now grownup "kids" turned out decently enough.
So we're back to Tom and Jerry. That's Drew's favorite of the Looney Toons, although he happily watches Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester and Tweety, or Bugs and Daffy just as well. The other day Bugs had a dilemma. He'd met a young lady at the tennis court and things moved just a little too fast, since without much warning in the cartoon, Bugs was in a tuxedo and his lady friend was in a bridal dress. Daffy didn't even know about it!! Well, at the last minute, the young lady admitted that she really didn't love Bugs at all, but rather the wedding planner (who happened to be a skunk). Got to love it.
However, I digress. During an earlier scene, Bugs carefully tries to break up with the lady friend when by all accounts she was stalking the unhappy rabbit, showing up everywhere. He kindly says the words to indicate he'd like to end things, and she goes absolutely nuts, crying and carrying on in amazing fashion. I actually laughed out loud, and so did Drew.
So TV viewers can have their Ommiezoomies or whatever it is. They can have their Scooby Doo. They can have their crazy alien space creatures blowing up the earth. We'll take Tom and Jerry every time. Drew said the other day, "Tom and Jerry aren't nice to the mouse." So I guess he thought the cat's name is Tom'nJerry. Pretty good, huh? I explained it. Grandmas have time for all that kind of stuff.
My daughter-in-law told me yesterday that she really liked Scooby Doo when she was a kid. It's on one of the cartoon networks these days, but quite different. She said that the one blond kid and blond girl always did seem to like one another years ago, but it wasn't the focus of the show. NOW, there is all this stuff going on between the characters and it is the focus of the show. So who is supposed to be watching?
I switched to one cartoon yesterday and it was so graphic and scary for Drew that it went bye-bye. Back to something that makes sense. A little violent, yes, but kids have been watching Looney Toons forever and most of these now grownup "kids" turned out decently enough.
So we're back to Tom and Jerry. That's Drew's favorite of the Looney Toons, although he happily watches Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester and Tweety, or Bugs and Daffy just as well. The other day Bugs had a dilemma. He'd met a young lady at the tennis court and things moved just a little too fast, since without much warning in the cartoon, Bugs was in a tuxedo and his lady friend was in a bridal dress. Daffy didn't even know about it!! Well, at the last minute, the young lady admitted that she really didn't love Bugs at all, but rather the wedding planner (who happened to be a skunk). Got to love it.
However, I digress. During an earlier scene, Bugs carefully tries to break up with the lady friend when by all accounts she was stalking the unhappy rabbit, showing up everywhere. He kindly says the words to indicate he'd like to end things, and she goes absolutely nuts, crying and carrying on in amazing fashion. I actually laughed out loud, and so did Drew.
So TV viewers can have their Ommiezoomies or whatever it is. They can have their Scooby Doo. They can have their crazy alien space creatures blowing up the earth. We'll take Tom and Jerry every time. Drew said the other day, "Tom and Jerry aren't nice to the mouse." So I guess he thought the cat's name is Tom'nJerry. Pretty good, huh? I explained it. Grandmas have time for all that kind of stuff.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Tapped Out
Did you ever just feel tapped out? Well, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to write the blog post at the end of a long and tiring Monday so all I'd have to do is hit "publish" in the morning. But I am really tapped out.
Long but rewarding day. Lousy night's sleep Sunday night. Struggling wtih the time change and allergies!!
Today was the day to pick up the candle order at my granddaughter's school. The boxes were too large to send home with the kids. So we went over to Warstler School in Plain Township right around 11:45 (we being me and my oldest son, Mark). We planned it that way so we could surprise Ella by having lunch with her. Warstler has a policy where parents and family are always welcome to come at lunch time. All the children enjoy the visitors.
When we arrived, Ella was sitting at her desk busily working on her iPad and was completely unaware of our presence. One of those precious moments when you get to see someone you love so very much in a situation you've never seen her in before. She had her legs crossed ladylike and her hands looked so grownup as she pressed this button and that. Then she saw us and her face lit up like one of those home security lights.
Her classmates wondered if we would eat with them and we said, "Sure." They clapped and cheered. Here are some of the hightlights of this really fun visit:
One boy asked if we were "Ella's family." He asked if I was a grandmother, and noted that the "Mom's mom" works with his class at school (Grandma Sue volunteers). They served bananas for lunch. One boy used the banana like a phone and put it to his ear. My son borrowed it and began having a conversation. The kids were mesmerized. "No, I haven't seen any monkeys. Sure, I'll let you know if I see any." We were welcomed warmly by these children in a school where so often there seem to be no strangers. It is heartening, truly.
Everyone seems to know Ella and appreciate her. She seems to know everyone too. The boy with the banana phone offered Ella a Tater Tot and she gladly enjoyed it. Her classmates seem to look out for her in a natural and loving way.
Now I truly know what is special about Special Education.
Many people have prayed for Ella since her diagnosis of epilepsy nearly eight and a half years ago. People we know and many we don't joined in. She continues to progress, her seizures are under good control, and she has a sweetness that to me is the result of all of those prayers.
And I'm still tapped out, but by the time this is posted tomorrow, it will be a new day. A new day to work as though I am working for the Lord.
Long but rewarding day. Lousy night's sleep Sunday night. Struggling wtih the time change and allergies!!
Today was the day to pick up the candle order at my granddaughter's school. The boxes were too large to send home with the kids. So we went over to Warstler School in Plain Township right around 11:45 (we being me and my oldest son, Mark). We planned it that way so we could surprise Ella by having lunch with her. Warstler has a policy where parents and family are always welcome to come at lunch time. All the children enjoy the visitors.
When we arrived, Ella was sitting at her desk busily working on her iPad and was completely unaware of our presence. One of those precious moments when you get to see someone you love so very much in a situation you've never seen her in before. She had her legs crossed ladylike and her hands looked so grownup as she pressed this button and that. Then she saw us and her face lit up like one of those home security lights.
Her classmates wondered if we would eat with them and we said, "Sure." They clapped and cheered. Here are some of the hightlights of this really fun visit:
One boy asked if we were "Ella's family." He asked if I was a grandmother, and noted that the "Mom's mom" works with his class at school (Grandma Sue volunteers). They served bananas for lunch. One boy used the banana like a phone and put it to his ear. My son borrowed it and began having a conversation. The kids were mesmerized. "No, I haven't seen any monkeys. Sure, I'll let you know if I see any." We were welcomed warmly by these children in a school where so often there seem to be no strangers. It is heartening, truly.
Everyone seems to know Ella and appreciate her. She seems to know everyone too. The boy with the banana phone offered Ella a Tater Tot and she gladly enjoyed it. Her classmates seem to look out for her in a natural and loving way.
Now I truly know what is special about Special Education.
Many people have prayed for Ella since her diagnosis of epilepsy nearly eight and a half years ago. People we know and many we don't joined in. She continues to progress, her seizures are under good control, and she has a sweetness that to me is the result of all of those prayers.
And I'm still tapped out, but by the time this is posted tomorrow, it will be a new day. A new day to work as though I am working for the Lord.
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