Nocturne

It's late . . . but that's nothing new. I get home from work late: late at night, later than I planned, etc. I come in the door knowing that Grandma is already sleeping and chuckling to myself over her last suggestion before I left for work (an "unexpected shift"; yes, the quotation marks belong around both words)--she told me that I should just change into my pj's so that I could just fall into bed when I got back home. Was she ever right! About how late I'd get home, that is. I'm still glad that I chose not to wear the pj's to work tonight.

She says she doesn't hear anything much after her door is shut. And I do know how this house muffles things, but I wonder how much she really can hear. Am I waking her up by opening the pantry door (the closest door to her bedroom)? It clicks so loudly in the stillness of the house as it opens and shuts. I'm craving something starchy. Chips and salsa fit the bill. I stealthily open the pantry door. Click of the handle. I grab the bag of chips. Crinkle. Crinkle. I shut the door. CLICK. At least the refrigerator door is quieter as I get out the salsa, but there's still the small thud+suction sound the door makes (would that sound be called "thuction"?). A cuboard opening for the bowl to put my snack in. thung! Clickch! Another cupboard opening for a pitcher to put some milk into. thung! Clickch! Refrigerator door again. thuction? Jar lids being opened, sounds of pouring--ahhh! much quieter. Now to open the bag of chips. There is nothing stealthy about a bag of chips. There is not chip bag material known to man that allows for stealth. I'm convinced there was one once: I think that it was banished after complaints from parents who couldn't tell that their kids were sneaking unlawful snacks before dinner. They lobbied for chip bags to be made out of crinchy material rather than quiet and supple material. Now as for the reason that said chip bags cannot keep chips from getting stale as well as Ziploc bags can? That's another story. But these chips are stale. I knew they would be. But they're starchy. And Great-Uncle Carl's salsa can cover staleness quite handily! Besides . . . stale chips are quieter =) But the chips bag was not: crinch. crinch-crinch. crinkle-crinkle-crinkle. Cronch. strunch. Scronch-Scronch-Scronch. crinch-crinch-crinch. crinch. I poured out the rest into Ziploc for the sake of getting rid of the bag. So now I'm keeping stale chips fresh? Yeah, something like that.

What is it about night that makes all sounds clearer? As though the sounds are distilled and separated and displayed one-by-one in a shop window? I've always found that aspect of night fascinating. And amusing tonight. Especially when I re-open the door to put away the rest of the chips.

Did I say rest? I think it's time to get some rest myself =)

Funny

1. When I searched for a poem today that I had published in an earlier blog but couldn't go to at the moment on my own blog, one of the first sites that came up with the poem was my own blog!!! So wierd =) and cool.

2. I had my taxes done professionally this year. I had a coupon but thought that it was only for easy tax situations (mine is not "easy"--two states to file in, plus filing for my own business does not qualify as "easy"). So I hoped that it would at least get me a percentage off of my charges. It did--the whole coupon applied for me! I paid just what the coupon said!!! and only that =)

3. The weather decided it wanted to be nice today. I drove part of the way home with my window down listening to the frogs croaking along the River.

4. Grandma locked me out of the house. She thought I was home when she got home from church because my car was in the drive, so she locked the deadbolt when she got in. Then she saw my note telling her that I was at a house down the street. But she forgot to unlock the deadbolt. I couldn't figure out what was wrong when my key in the door failed to turn the handle. She had to come rescue me. =)

Tired

It hits you in between the eyes in the middle of the day. Or it suddenly throws your mouth wide open before you can stop the urge to show the people around you a glimpse of the Grand Canyon for free. It makes you do dumb things like leaving the ends off of your words or forgetting what you came into the room to do in the first place.

It's called "being tired."

And it usually hits you when you can't stop. If your bed were handy, you could fall right into it and go to sleep, but it's not and you can't.

Silly thing is that it makes going to bed at night harder. Here I sit, knowing I ought to be in bed. But my body is moving slowly, and my brain keeps losing its train of thought. Bother! And then I start checking e-mails and catching up with friends and forget that I was supposed to be checking my bank account online! Bother!

I couldn't help but laugh when, as I re-read a C. S. Lewis book recently (The Silver Chair), I saw myself in one of the main characters:

"It is a very funny thing that the sleepier you are, the longer you take about getting to bed; especially if you are lucky enough to have a fire in your room. Jill felt she couldn't even start undressing unless she sat down in front of the fire for a bit first. And once she had sat down, she didn't want to get up again. She had already said to herself about five times, 'I must go to bed,' when she was startled by a tap on the window."

So, here I sit in a cold basement, finding things to do before going to bed. I'd REALLY be in trouble if I were "lucky enough to have a fire" in my room! Actually, with all the papers lying around waiting to be dealt with, I wouldn't dare light it!

I think it's time to go to bed =)

I found this poem the other day when I was going through literature class with one of my students. I makes me smile . . . a lot. Especially since we used to have a cat =) By the way, what's the dictionary abbreviation for the title of this poem? ;-)

"Catalogue"

by Rosalie Moore

Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
Cats, when they sleep, slump;
When they wake, pull in-
And where the plump's been
There's skin.

Cats walk thin.
Cats wait in a lump,
Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin-
They have technique.
Oh, cats don't creak.
They sneak.

Cats sleep fat.
They spread comfort beneath them
Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place
And then sat.
You walk around one
As if he were City Hall
After that.

If male,
A cat is apt to sing upon a major scale:
This concert is for everybody, this
Is wholesale.
For a baton, he wields a tail.
(He is also found,
When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)

A cat condenses.
He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences.
Cats fit
In any box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one,
He could arch over it.

When everyone else is just ready to go out,
The cat is just ready to come in,
He's not where he's been.
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.

copied from http://www.bookcrossing.com/forum/6/2102786

Goose Wing River (or being geographically challenged)

One of my students is doing a project on the Cornelia Meigs book SWIFT RIVERS (I highly recommend it to those who have not read it. Yes, it is a children's book. No, it's not for children only--though having a healthy inner child might help you enjoy it more).

The author gives pretty specific information about the setting--including the President at the time and locations on the river that can still be found on maps of the Mississippi today. All but the Goose Wing River. We have been unable to find it on maps anywhere. I've even looked it up on several websites that have maps of the area. Nothing matches the other geographical clues.

Now, I realize (both of us know, actually) that we can still complete the project very beautifully without knowing the location of the river. But I am curious--intrigued. Meigs's books are so detailed and realistic that I can't help feeling that there MUST be a place out there called the Goose Wing River. It's almost a disappointment to think that perhaps she just made the place up as she did the characters. Perhaps it no longer exists. Perhaps it was swallowed up by metropolitan Minneapolis. Perhaps is it too small to be recognized as a nameable river anymore. Perhaps it dried up long ago. Perhaps I'll be keeping my ears open for any news of such a place for the rest of my life. =)

Here's to the little intriguing details that inexplicably pique our interests! May yours bring you as much fun as ours has!

craziness

so.
One of my bosses resigned.
I'm sad she's gone, but I totally understand why she left.
I understand even better than I did before she left: I'm "filling in" for her.
Until they get someone else.
Soon?
There's so much to do!
And I'm enjoying all I'm learning, but I'm not enjoying all the time I don't have to do other things . . . like living and working and getting things done . . . and sleeping.
Ok, scratch that last one: I don't really sleep anyway. =) (just kidding)
so.
that's my life at the moment.
pretty simple.

Cramped

At least I'm not typing blind this time around =)

My cousin worked on my grandma's computer at Thanksgiving, and from Thanksgiving to Christmas, I enjoyed the freedom of actually being able to use the internet and being able to access my sites that I typically access. It felt a little like being able to stretch after being cramped for a while. Well, a couple days ago, the computer, in the middle of something I was doing, decided it wanted to hibernate or revert to its original state of things. So it did. It's back to its former cramped position. A few things are different from last time. I'll have to learn the new rules.

At least I'm not typing blind this time around.

12 Christmas "Cookies"--a half-baked idea

Every year at Christmas when I was a kid, Mom and Dad or Grandpa and Grandma would get my family an advent calendar. Starting on the first of December, we would open one box or door each day, revealing either a piece of the Christmas story or a piece of candy. Since moving out of the house, I no longer take part with them in this Christmas tradition, but the wonder of it still fascinates me.

This year, I wanted to send everyone an advent calendar of sorts. Of course, December 1st is long gone. And I don't have any candy to send--at least, not very easily and not to everyone. So I came up with this half-baked idea: twelve sets of thoughts about Christmas that have occur to me this year. I will post them on Facebook and also on my blog Joyous Thirst. I would love to read your comments on them in either spot (or via e-mail!).

These notes truly will be "half-baked," merely the beginnings of thoughts about Christmas, but things that have blessed me and will hopefully bless you. Mix them with your own thoughts about Christmas, and giving them a decent baking. And may they be as refreshing and fun as Christmas candy or Christmas cookies . . . minus the fat content.

Merry Christmas everyone. May you be more aware of God's love for you this Christmas than you were last Christmas. I love you all!

Live long and prosper!
~Joy =)

Don't Forget the . . . ice scraper?

What a night! Last night was a late night at work for me--partly my fault, though. I needed to finish preparing the lessons for Sylvan's Friday students, so that meant staying late after all the other students and teachers went home. Only this time, my boss Michelle stayed, too, because she had some work to do . . . and for one other reason: she wanted to see her nephew on TV. He was on the new show Don't Forget the Lyrics, and she knew that if she left for home, she'd not get there in time to see him. So she turned on the TV in the conference room and did her work on the computer in there, promising to call me when he came on. He was the last contestant of the night. And by the time he was on, my work was nearly done. He did pretty well, too--working the crowd even if he didn't quite know all the lyrics. Michelle and I were working and laughing and cheering him on and exclaiming on the amazingness of the fact that he was on the show. We were so loud! There was still 15 minutes left of the show by the time my work was done, so I clocked out and stayed for the finale, finding some little things to do around the office. On commercials, Michelle was calling her family to share the moment with them. I enjoy my work at Sylvan, but things are rarely this exciting. He walked away with $50,000! Someone that someone I know knows walked away with $50,000! Wow!

But that was only the beginning of the night. After the show, I grabbed my stuff to go, and I saw that a lady whose son I tutor (not associated with Sylvan) had called me during work to leave me a message about getting me a check for the week's tutoring work. Expecting to meet her somewhere near her house, I called her back . . . to find out that she had been waiting in a nearby parking lot for me to get off of work. She had been waiting there for about 40 minutes! I hadn't seen the car because she hadn't attempted to drive up the icy parking lot (it had been sleeting since the late afternoon and our lot wasn't cleared at all). She and I agreed to meet at the gas station down the hill.

I went out to see about starting my car and getting it warmed up so I could go. I also wanted to check on Michelle, who had started her car to get it warming up, to find out how much longer she was going to be staying there. I found her rummaging around for her ice scraper which had mysteriously disappeared (probably borrowed and not returned earlier in the year). Fortunately, I had mine in my car. I sent her back inside to finish up and close up while I attacked her car with the scraper. "Attacked" is the only word that fits that moment's activity: the ice was pretty thick and hard. And I began to fear I would put a hole through her back window (her car is a convertible)! But at last her car was mostly done. And by then the ice on mine was a bit softer.

All the while I was scraping the ice off of my car--it was going far too slowly!--I kept thinking of the parent waiting for me and wondering where I was down at the gas station. I decided not to try to tackle the seemingly impenatrable ice sheet covering the passenger-side windows. I figured I'd be able to see through them well enough to last me the drive down the hill, and I climbed in my car to leave. Sure enough, backing up was ok. But pulling out was a different matter: I couldn't see out the window! Not even lights! How would I know if someone were coming? "I wonder what would happen if I rolled the window down," I thought with a mixture of curiosity, desperation, and laughter at my predicament. I figured I'd give it a try. The window rolled slowly down. The ice sheet stayed in place. I began to laugh out loud. There was a small hole in the ice--small enough to let me see that the coast was clear, so I pulled out. All the way down the hill, with a windshield still gritty from snow (the wipers were still too frozen to use)and a pane of ice for one window, I prayed aloud, laughing and praying and hoping there was nothing valuable in my path because I probably wouldn't see it till afterwards!

I have never been so grateful for a stoplight in my life. By rolling down my driver-side window, I was able to see the line for the turn lane, and I slowly pulled into it as my light turned from yellow to red. I was glad to just sit there and enjoy the red light and the fact that I didn't have to go yet. It gave me time to ponder the turn I needed to make to get to the gas station--strategy was going to have to make up for my inability to see very well. It also gave me time to ponder the pane of ice in my window and to wonder if i could push it out onto the street. I grabbed the long handle of my ice scraper and used it to push against the ice sheet. The good news was that I could move the ice and could push it out of the window. The bad news was that half of it fell into my car rather than out of it. But my window was freed, the light turned green, and I made it to the gas station. Still laughing at my predicament.

After meeting with the lady who had so patiently waited for me for an hour, I attacked the rest of the ice on my car, determined to drive no further until I knew that I'd be able to see out of my windows--all of them, not just the driver's side window. And then I drove home "laughing all the way"--to borrow the lyrics to a familiar song!

Nights like that don't happen very often, that's for sure! They're definitely worth enjoying =)

a gift . . . or three . . . or more =)

I've received a gift tonight. It wasn't there when I last checked my online life to see if it was still alive and to see how alive it actually was. But it's there now. And it's one of those gifts with several little pieces that are to be opened one at a time. Things are working as they should be working tonight online: I can actually see what I am typing when I post a comment to someone's blogger account; I can enter a post directly into my own blogger account (this one has not been sent from my e-mail!); and I can even see who's on and open for chatting tonight--not that anyone is, but . . . it's still a novelty to be able to sign in to chat on this computer. And Blogger "autosaves" for me.

When Grandma said she'd have my cousin work on the computer when he came, I hoped that perhaps his tinkering would result in one change in particular in my online capabilities. And when I got back home to MO, I checked to see what difference his work had made. Nothing. But tonight! Wow! More than I really dared to imagine! I had gotten used to the little quirks, such as typing blind.

I don't know how long these gifts will last. Maybe they will be like someone's excellent fudge or pan of brownies and be gone in a day or two. But oh! how grateful I am for them tonight!

Prose and poetry

Funny. I've never thought myself a poet, but poetry-ish stuff seems easier to write these days than prose! It's as though life is coming to me in bite-sized pieces rather than whole. Or like it's so deep that only poetry will do to capture the many layers in its mountain. Strange. And it's even funnier that none of it's truly poetic. Still, it's kinda fun to write poetry of sorts. I'll just pretend I'm e. e. cummings and call it poetry anyway. And then no one will read it because it's too hard to decipher. And then I will REALLY feel like a poet should =)

Brain Dead

Last day at home. I hate last days at home. Coming home is so much fun, but then I have to leave again. After such a short amount of time. It seems to get harder and harder.
And then there's so much to do before leaving again! And I was going to accomplish so much. But before that I was going to blog--finally, after having waited so long to post, I was going to post again. And then I got to chatting, and then I got to working, and now I'm brain dead. And there's still shopping to do and packing and picking people up at the airport and . . . and . . . yeah. So here's the feeble attempt at posting. The "I'm still here but not all here" post. The one that promises more . . . someday.
Someday =)

"Post," she said.

So, I'm posting. But this isn't one of those uplifting posts, so don't
get your hopes up. This is one of those "annoyed with . . . " posts.

I'm annoyed with my body: it's getting sick . . . or worse!
I'm annoyed with all that I have to do and can't get done.
I'm annoyed with everything that keeps standing in the way of getting
it done (like getting sick).
I'm annoyed with feeling like I'd like to dissolve into tears.
I'm annoyed with not being able to dissolve into tears.
I'm annoyed with Facebook for no longer letting me do the few things I
could do on it while using my computer.
I'm annoyed with the fact that I'm annoyed.
I'm annoyed with my getting to bed much later than I planned on.
I'm annoyed with myself for writing dumb e-messages and actually sending them.
I'm annoyed with . . . . . . .

Life!

But as I'm writing about being annoyed, a little piece of me begins to
laugh at me for taking myself too seriously, and I begin to grin about
life and the predicaments I find myself in. And another part of me is
curious to see what in the world God is going to do through them. And
life somehow doesn't seem quite so dismal. And the grouchy part of me
is annoyed by this, too. =)

Celebrating

I celebrated a little today. I felt like going out for ice cream or
throwing a party (well, a small one, a very small one but a party
nonetheless). A student of mine finished a major project today! A
research paper, in fact, and one that has caused endless amounts of
frustration, plentiful moments of consternation, and a plethora of new
learning opportunities (for both of us!). Talk about exciting! I was
thrilled.

But now it's mine for the moment. And I'm the teacher. So this means I
have to grade it.

And now that it's finished, the work load fills in its vacant slot as
efficiently as a new Coke slides into place for the bottle I've
removed from the refrigerated compartment at a gas station--it's
automatic! Such a big project, yet seemingly no dent!

But I'm still thrilled. I'm still excited. I'm still proud of him for
digging in and getting it done. And there's still something to show
for all those hours of work--sweat and tears if not blood =)

Yay!

*the air fills with confetti and streamers* (who cares about the mess
that has to be cleaned up!)

random happy moment of the day

Yay! the telephone headset Grandma found for the land line works!!!
Mom could hear me just fine tonight when I called her =) I love being
able to talk on the phone without having to hold a telephone in my
hand. I think I'm getting spoiled.

potpourri of shtuff

"potpourri" is sometimes used of a mixture of little pieces of
unrelated information. I have usually been annoyed by this usage of
the word, yet here I am using it myself. I couldn't think of a better
word for this odd assorment of unrelated thoughts. [Now, if I can just
keep from connecting them all together . . .]

Today was a slow-starting day. And now it's a slow-ending day. There's
something about nighttime that makes me want to stay up and enjoy the
solitude of it. And there's something about morning that makes me feel
rushed and unready to face the world--sometimes, not always. And good
or bad, Mondays tend to feel that way a little more than other days of
the week.

I finished a book last night: Banner in the Sky by James Ramsey
Ullman. I haven't read it since I was a kid, and reading it thing time
through made me wonder (till closer to the end of the story) whether
my judgment had been misguided in liking the book when I was younger.
But my reading was rewarded at the end as the author brought it all
full circle--oh! so good! And I cried at one part, the part I cried at
when I was younger. About 3 chapters from the end I had a brain-wave:
I always think of responses to the story and thoughts that the story
brings up, but I never write them down--I forget them; so why not get
a notebook for jotting down thoughts as I read? I had tried that when
I was in high school and was overwhelmed by it, but now I can do it.
So I started it last night, and I ended up with 3 pages of thoughts (8
1/2 x 11-size pages, to be exact). It was fun!

I'm cell-less tonight. I was 10 minutes down the road from the house
where I spend the first half of my work-day and was stuck in traffic
when I realized my phone was still plugged into the wall at the place
I had just left. So much for calling my other job to let them know I'd
be a little late!

Living with Grandma is sometimes like having a slumber party: we get
to talking late sometimes. It's fun to have these times to spend with
her. We are alike in some ways and so very very different in others.
It's nice to know I take after her in some ways and fun to find the
ways I am more like other members of my family.

Oswald Chambers makes me laugh: he is so straightforward about
relationships with God! His philosophy is that if you can't trust God,
at least be honest about it! At least that was the idea that jumped
out at me from today's reading. Good advice, too, I think. I think
I'll try it. But even that thought makes me grin because I know what
will happen if I do.

Facebook has taken over my inbox. Most of the e-mails I receive are
now from Facebook alerting me of new things that have happened in that
magical realm while I was away doing other stuff in the real world.
Funny how stuff that happens on Facebook is real, too, though.
*scratches head*

I've fallen far behind again. A friend of mine is writing a book and
posting it online on a blog. For a week or so I was caught up. Then I
was ahead for another week or so because he hadn't written anymore.
Suddenly, he's writing again, and I haven't had time to read it! Now,
in just a few short days, I am once again behind. *sighs*

Ok. Hopefully that was disconnected enough to be potpourri without
being annoying =) I am falling asleep. I need to go to bed . . .
soon.

Bartering

Looking through the treasures of the day:
What to offer?
What will be of value?
The weather report's a staple--bread and butter, at least;
Complaints about health--
my health
her health
his health
their health
our health--
Rarely preferred
Always allowed
Sometimes latched onto: a bargain.
We'll take these to-go;
Too little to talk for hours.
An anecdote's ok
Sometimes worth a smile,
Less frequently a belly-laugh.
Dare I bring out a real
treasure lest my gold
prove me a fool
in our eyes?
Silent we stand evaluating
Exhausted in our bartering.

the joys of Facebook (or not of Facebook as the case may be)

I love the status bar on Facebook. It's my favorite feature. I enjoy
trying to think up ways to fit what's going on in my life into the
prompt "Joy is . . . " It's a challenge sometimes. More than that, I
love seeing what my friends are up to. How else would I know that
former teachers of mine are biking, attending concerts, and going to
the dentist? How else would I know that former classmates of mine are
driving across North America or visiting the Rockies?

But there's so much going on. Sometimes my status could change every
minute and still not be up to date! Here are the things that don't
show up on Facebook:

Joy is drenched from watching a high school football game in the rain.

Joy is laughing her head off at having to try drying off with napkins
instead of towels.

Joy is wishing her sister were here to share the adventure.

Joy is having no luck actually catching her friend at a time when her
friend can talk.

Joy is thanking God for Dr. Raske and his gentle, true words.

Joy is wondering whether God's listening at the moment.

Joy is getting a speeding ticket.

Joy is wondering how ends are going to meet.

Joy is amazed that the ends are defying reason and meeting anyway.

Joy is a basket case.

Joy is thanking God for Mari's way of putting things into words. and
thanking God for using those words show that He truly is
listening--and answering.

Joy is laughing at the grocery story ads: on one side of the page is
all the junk food; on the other side is the weight-loss section.

Joy is wondering why most of the text on the Blogger website is
showing up in Japanese (and yes, I recognize the difference between
Chinese and Japanese--usually).

Joy is listening to music from The Wilds.

Joy is writing in her journal.

Joy is restarting her computer for the nth time.

Joy is hearing some of her friends commenting already, "you should get
a Twitter account!" Right =) With all of this going on, do I really
have time for one? =)

In which I learn to read Chinese . . . or not

In posting from the computer I normally use, Blogger does not actually allow me to see what I am typing: I spend my time typing blind. While that occupation has its usefulness (such as stimulating my under-used brain cells to perform new feats of computation), actually SEEING what I am typing is definitely preferable. So here I sit at a computer that will allow me to see what I am typing.

This computer has other issues with Blogger: all of the Blogger text (such as the labels for the buttons to post, edit, manage settings, comment, publish . . . ) shows up in Chinese.

It's a good thing I know the general positions of the buttons I need to use.
It's a good thing Blogger also communicated through colors as well as through words.
It's a good thing I can type blind on most days.

No, I haven't really learned how to read Chinese.

End-of-the-day thoughts

I'm irked. Why? Well, that's a good question. Maybe because my
computer froze up on me. Maybe because I have to get up and go to work
tomorrow. Maybe because there are people I'd like to talk to but can't
get in touch with them. But basically it's because living up to my
name is very hard. My parents named me "Joy" and my Heavenly Father
named me after His Son. But I look inside and don't see the joyfulness
that ought to be there in my responses to things. Instead I see a
worrier and someone who focuses on the hard things until they become
blown out of proportion. I look inside and I don't see the
faithfulness of Christ: I see someone who wants to give up, someone
who is ready to say "I can't do it! Don't talk to me, don't touch me,
just leave me alone! I'm done trying" and stomp off to her room. And
I'm disappointed in myself. I'm disappointed because I am not living
up to the hopes I have for the person I want to be. I'm disappointed
because I'm not drawing my strength from the Source of all joy and
faithfulness. But sometimes it's easier to run away than to run to
that Source because what if I've let Him down and what if my soul is
too cracked to hold the water He gives me to quench my thirst? What if
I can't find Him? What if He doesn't have anything for me tonight?
What if He asks me to do something I don't want to or can't do?

As I write this, a little hopeful voice (absurdly hopeful at times)
begins to whisper to me that I know these "what-ifs" aren't really
true. And I dare to lift my thoughts to glance at Him to see if He
will accept me as I am tonight. I begin to look at Him to see if He
will let me rest against His shoulder and pour out my troubles to Him
(troubles that overwhelm me because they disappoint and sicken me).
And I begin to calm down inside and remember that He is everything I'm
not, and that He somehow isn't irked with me for not being all that He
is yet.

Actually, I remember with a lop-sided grin, today was a pretty good
day once I got it going. I didn't get everything done that probably
should have gotten done, but it was still a good day. A couple
students accomplished a whole lot of stuff--stuff I really didn't have
anything much to do with, but they got it done and did it well! They
accomplished more than they thought they could, and I was so very
excited about it! And I was able to pick up donuts today for our
school "store" which is working out pretty well so far. That was fun.
And they had football-shaped ones. That was fun, too.

So was the late afternoon/early evening when I went to a high school
football game that one of the students I tutor at Sylvan was supposed
to play in. I hadn't gotten very much info from him--nor very clear,
for that matter, I began to realize. I had thought I knew what school
it was that he played for and where it was, but a conversation with a
co-worker made me doubt even that! A friend helped me locate the
school on a map, and I headed there hoping I was going to the right
place. Finding it was fun--not even any u-turns this time (thought
those can be fun, too). And there was a football game going on. I
parked and grabbed my purse, suddenly realizing that I was doing
something I would normally consider slightly crazy--going to watch a
game I know little about at a place where I know none of the people.
Did I really have the nerve to walk up to the stands and find a place
to sit amongst all those strangers? And then I was doing it, revelling
in the novelty of it and suddenly bold (not brassy, just bold).
And--even better--in spite of my late arrival, I hadn't missed as much
as I had thought I would: the game was still in the 3rd quarter, and
my side was winning. They didn't win in the end, though they almost
did. But watching was fun anyway. I think I like football after
all--as long as I know someone who is playing or has an interest in
it.

The end of the game was marked by rainfall--starting with sparse drops
that began to accelerate. My umbrella had been left in the car, and I
wasn't about to go get it. "Besides," I thought, "how many chances
will I have to watch a football game in the rain on a warm day? This
is great!!!" I held my hand over my eyes to shield my glasses, but by
the end of the game (overtime, in fact) I was starting to be drenched.
As I headed back towards my car (parked in the farthest lot away!),
the rainfall became a deluge, soaking the top of my hair and dripping
into my eyes. I could feel my eyes stinging from the running mascara,
but I couldn't help laughing at the lovely craziness of the whole
experience. I tumbled into my car laughing my head off, thoroughly
exhilarated, and dripping wet. No towel? Dry off with napkins courtesy
of Wendy's. Laughing, laughing, laughing, and loving the fact that all
of this was happening.

Yeah, today was a good day.

It's nearly 12. That's early for me to go to bed, but I need to start
getting to bed earlier. Tonight is a good night to start. But I have a
few things to do first . . .