Circumscribe

One of my students did a grammar assignment where he had to guess the meanings of words based on the roots of the words. The book gave him some roots to use but left some for him to guess by himself. Circumscribe was one of the latter--the book told him what "circum" meant but not "scribe." 

What he put down makes an awesome "Daffynition." 

CIRCUMSCRIBE: a writer who moves around. =D

2 Peter 1:2-3 Today's multiplication problem :) . . . or maybe it's a chemistry equation! :D

Why poetry from the Germanic tribes was mostly oral: their fingers were too cold to write anything down! ;)

So . . . it's probably a bit cliched to state that I'm testing out something new to me--blogging from my phone. But that's exacty what I'm doing ;)

Spring in Missouri =)

"in Just" by e e cummings seems to have a lot in common with sprintime in Missouri! This year seems especially "mudluscious" and "puddle-wonderful"!

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little lame baloonman


whistles far and wee


and eddyandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring


when the world is puddle-wonderful


the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing


from hop-scotch and jump-rope and


it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed


baloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

What I hate about night time

I 've become semi-nocturnal, I think. By the time night has fallen, my brain has woken up completely; and in the stillness night brings I can think and ponder. I love the quietness that comes with night--no place to go, nothing that I have to do anymore . . . except get ready for the next day. But even the getting ready seems a little easier now that night has come and everyone is asleep and I have fewer things to distract me.

Unfortunately, my mind and body have become too used to doing things at night. Going to bed at 9 or even 10 seems too early, so I stay up doing just a little more. 11 is the neutral time of night when my mind and body have agreed that it would be fine to go to sleep . . . if I wasn't already wrapped up in what I am currently doing (since I went ahead and started something at 9 or 10). By the time I have finally wrapped up everything and gotten ready for bed, it's approaching 12.

To throw a moneky wrench into the way things work, I am starting to get sleepy around 8 or 9 (which, of course, my mind and body have agreed is too early for bed). However, by 10 or 11, I am awake again and ready to think about things or get things done, and by the time I wind down or get sleepy again, it's . . . you guessed it: 12 (or 1 or 2!).

Counting sheep doesn't work.

Reading wakes me up (unless it's in the day time).

Writing wakes me up, too.

In fact, I can't think of anything that makes me sleepy at the "awake" time of night. Unless I have somewhere that I have to go to get home at that time of night. Then I fall into an awake kind of sleep--awake but unaware and semi-incoherent. I'm a mess right now =)

So, though I do love night time (it's a great time for a lot of things!), right now it's a battle for me. A strange sort of negotiation with myself.

;}

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!)