We did it AND we rocked it!

more than kisses, letters mingle souls. For, thus friends absent speak. - John Donne in a letter "To Sir Henry Wotton"

I can't believe it is already November 30th and the end to NaBloPoMo! More than writing practice, to me blogging has been a catalyst through which I've been able to connect and reconnect with all of you. In my opinion, that's what life is all about. Also, everyday I get to know what's going on in your lives and I LOVE that familial transaction. It's home to me. So let's blog often (without the stress of having to) and keep these lines connected.

'And I draw a line
To your heart today
To your heart from mine
A line to keep us safe'

-PJ Harvey "One Line"

Not a bit worried

So, tomorrow I'm F_L_Y_I_N_G to Denver for an IB conference. The week-end will be really fun, I think, especially since I get to hang out with my favorite friend Fougs. Here's the thing: I HATE to fly! You know this, but I can't say it enough. What's the etiquette on drinking before noon? in front of your boss? on a school trip? To make matters worse, Denver just had a huge truck load of snow dumped on it, which is OK except that that exact weather system is supposed to bring sleet to my area around the time we are supposed to fly out tomorrow. Yay. Dangerous flight conditions. Super. Winter weather warning. Not stressed at all. Clearly.

On top of all of this, right now we are under a tornado watch, I have to pack, and make sure all is right for the sub tomorrow. So, I should probably go do those things... but which one first?

They keep getting better and better!

Cover design by Parker J.

The new LitMag is being printed as I type!!! The printer brought the proof to school today and it looks B-U-tiful! We only had a few minor adjustments. Overall I am extremely proud of my staff this year. They really work well together and our publication couldn't be more professional. I can't wait to see they do next semester for the spring extravaganza!! Congratulations you Litmagger Scalawags! Temp U will rock! And for the rest of you: Buy your fall 2006 edition of In The Margins ASAP! Here's a sneak peek...

Spread design by Amira A.


Spread design by Sean D.

Spread design by Catie L.

Spread design by Hannah H.

Spread design by Kathryn F.

Spread design by Hannah H.

Spread design by Catie L.

Potable Politic

Terry Blair is one of my favorite people on the planet. The second I met him I knew that we were creatures cut from the same cloth. He calls me "daughter" and he is one of the most kind, compassionate men I have ever met. He is a brilliant teacher and mentor, literally; he shines! The following are in a delicious quote journal filled with marvelous poetry, philosophy, quips, and aphorisms that Terry spent years compiling and then generously handed to me for no other reason than he wanted me to share it with him. His efforts have become the foundation for my own. Thank you Terry! I love you!


I'm feeling a bit political today, especially with all the goings on in the world. Here are some ingredients for those of you who like to mix politics and poetry (shaken, not stirred):

Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.
John Adams

Democracy is a device that ensures that we shall be governed no better than we deserve.
George Bernard Shaw

The death of democracy is not likely to be an assassination from ambush. It will be a slow extinction from apathy, indifference, and undernourishment.
Robert Hutchins

Many forms of Government have been tried, and will be tried in this world of sin and woe. No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all wise. Indeed, it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.
Winston Churchill

The best government is a benevolent tyranny tempered by an occasional assassination.
Voltaire

I predict future happiness for Americans if they can prevent the government from wasting the labors of the people under the pretense of taking care of them.
Thomas Jefferson

Once upon a time in Mexico...my version:

When I was in college and apparently invincible, Rich, our good friends Russell and Amanda, and I left the cozy comfort of the home-made house/chicken coop/migrant farmer shack in Wolfforth (another post,another day) with our sights set on Mexico City.

We drove 10 hours to Nuevo Laredo, parked the car, and crossed the border, toting backpacks, a very small amount of cash, and high hopes. We walked directly to the Laredo bus station where we bought 4 round trip tickets on the next bus to Mexico City. Four hours later, we began our 12 hour journey on a bus that's only amenity was the mounted TV screens for movies - 12 hours of Bruce Lee action films dubbed in French and subtitled in Spanish. Since the bathroom was um...not OK, we were happy when we stopped half-way to Mexico city but soon learned that the "rest stop" consisted of a toilet-less stall (more of a drain) and no tp. Note: a cultural difference - when at a rest stop on a 12 hour bus trip to Mexico, it is recommended that during the one rest stop you run ahead of the others to be first to the "toilet" before you get shoved out of the way. I learned this the hard way and had the bruises that proved it...
Anyway, once we got to Mexico City, we found a great hotel near The Zócalo and settled in. The rest is a blur of activities and thoughts. Here is what I remember:

*The pageantry, colors (including the red and green confetti falling from the roofs around the square when el presidente was returning to his office), and arm to arm street vendors in The Zócalo

* Drinking Corona at every meal, even with pastries at breakfast because the only alternative was hot Pepsi, which was too expensive, and water, which we learned was decidedly NOT purificado! (That is how you know who your friends are - if you can be "Mexico sick" while sharing space in a cubicle of a room and they still talk to you.)

* Visiting the Museo Nacional de Antropología and realizing that I would never be able to understand the word "ancient"

* Being completely afraid of, intimidated by, and in awe of the murals by Diego Rivera.

* Climbing the Pyramid of the Moon at Teotihuacan and realizing at the top that I was so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of the world, but also knowing that that was OK and comforting even

*Drinking coconut milk in Puebla outside of the most beautiful church I've ever seen

* Being completely humbled by the pilgrims crawling across the gravel on bleeding hands and knees to get to the Shroud of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and being confused when I got to the entrance of the church and found a moving sidewalk that swiftly conveyed the pilgrims by the holy relic and that ended at a gift shop where you could purchase bottles of holy water in the shape of the Blessed Virgin (twist -top head is all I'm saying)

* Being disgusted and a little intrigued (since it was my first experience in a situation like this) by the second hotel we accidentally happened upon outside of the city; this accommodation was obviously meant for secret, dubious liaisons: a garage in which one could hide his/her car; a sliding door within the door so that food could be passed from the staff to the occupant(s) without them ever having to be seen (or probably having to dress); the "hot tub" (dear god!, but the pictures of us in this over sized bathtub are funny); the bed with built in tissue dispensers; the TV...um you can guess what stations came in clearly... We can say that we all learned something new from this experience...and we will never mention it again...

* Loving the street tacos - some mystery barbacoa in a corn tortilla with cheese (sin cebollas y sin cilantro por favor!), but having the not quite rights after eating them for two weeks straight.

and more!
The last night we were in Mexico City, we were all completely exhausted and spiritually drained. All we wanted was one last night of rest before we got back on a 12 hour bus ride, followed by a 10 hour car trip back to college. Unfortunately, when we finally got settled in for the night, the disco across the street started thumping. I thought that at least the bass was rhythmic and I could probably sleep through it... until an hour later some construction started - we're talking jackhammers and table saws. Note 2: a cultural difference - construction happens at night in Mexico City because the streets are too crowded during the day. To add additional insult, an hour later a band of mariachis showed up outside of the disco (probably hoping to get a few pesos from the tourists at the club). No joke. This actually happened. Needless to say, the ride home was not a very pleasant one.

Mostly, after backpacking to Mexico City, I learned that even in the hard times, the experience of traveling and learnng is well worth it! Europe is a bit more forgiving...

Exit Post

When I knew that I would be participating in NaBloPoMo, I decided to poll my students- the blogging, texting, technologically adept experts- on what I should blog about. After the laughter subsided and they realized that I was serious, some of them offered lists or topics should I run out of things to say. This is one of those times. Actually like friend Michelle, I feel like I have a slight case of SARS, a touch of the bird flu, a smidge of West Nile, and possibly a little Ebola of the mucus membranes. I don't really mean to make fun, but I am actually sitting upright for the first time in three days and, other than the mountain of snot rags, a very, very sore abdomen (from incessant hacking), and the fact that I'm sort of snoring even though I'm awake; other than these, I'm feeling much better which means I get to be my normal self, sarcasm and all.
So this is my cheap, wimpy, "the exit is this way" post.

Here are 20 blogging topics from the brightest teens in the nation (I brag because they're mine and I get to):

1. Politics= poly (meaning many) + tics (meaning bloodsucking parasitic creatures)
2. Why U2 is the best band ever! (this student received extra credit, especially since he was sincere... Surely he wasn't prompted by the five U2 posters hanging on my classroom wall...)
3. Why Buddhism is (only slightly) crazy
4. Lawn gnomes (for 'em or again' 'em)
5. What the wombat war cry sounds like
6. Immigration in Texas
7. Racism: why it won't die!!!
8. What it's like to watch a person drink a gallon of milk in under an hour and what happens to him.
9. Awkward sex chats with dad
10. Trying to catch Sasquatch
11. Driving until you find some place to go.
12. How David Letterman is not dead (after eating Floam, lip gloss, Crisco, etc.)
13. Why criminals have more rights than the people they commit crimes against
14. Why driver's license pictures always turn out badly
15. Where pumpkins end up after Halloween
16. Murphy's Law
17. Why fire ants will take over the world
18. Creative alternatives to fossil fuels
19. The 50th anniversary of the alien landing at Roswell (I actually did attend this "event")
20. The over politicised topic of gay marriage and the fact that there are more important things to worry about

They're pretty cool, aren't they!

My family is decidedly pro-small town. You wouldn't know it by talking to me as I put on a pretty big front about being a city girl who enjoys the humanities, wine, and all things culture. (You can hardly catch my accent.) I mean, I do enjoy those things, but my roots stem from another place too. My mom and dad both grew up in the flat-lands of Texas. When I say flat, I mean that you can see twenty miles in all directions and if you stand on a tuna can, you can see thirty more miles. There are maybe three trees and a canyon in the panhandle of Texas. Tiny lakes sneak up on folks and are there, it seems, to add some thirst relief to the otherwise dusty landscape. The small towns surrounding the "hub" which is Lubbock are places where kids have to be on the basketball team, the cheerleading squad, and of course in 4H all at the same time because otherwise the teams wouldn't exist for lack of team attendance.

Mom describes her hometown like this: "The people get their entertainment from the land. They do things that other people wouldn't consider"fun." They hunt deer, quail, rattle snakes, and they fish. It's a place where your entertainment fund includes shot gun shells, bait, and beer money. These days, unless your a big-time farmer, it's hard to remain there." Like all small towns, Mom's is fading away. She realizes that it was a great place to grow up, but that that type of lifestyle is dwindling and people have to move to the cities in order to make it.

This is sad, especially since "they do grow good people there. It is a place where you learn to care for and support others and they care for and support you. You know everybody; you know their troubles and heart aches. As a result people care for each other and look-out for one another," says Mom. It's true and it makes me a little apprehensive about losing that sort of shepherding to the big city. We just have to be more intentional about loving one another and participating in each others lives: Bring over condolence caseroles and soup for the sick, attend the area sporting events and cheer for your friends' kids, participate in school functions and fund raisers, etc.

Don wranglin' a rattle snake

Me learning a lesson (probably on how to use my knuckles when throwin' a punch) from Just Don.



My Big Dutch! I absolutely ADORED this man. He was/is my hero. He lived through the Dust Bowl, he cooked outside like a real cowboy (dug a hole in the ground, filled it with coals (a sort of dutch oven) and made sourdough rolls, cobbler, etc. and he was ALWAYS on my side. Perhaps it was because I was the only granddaughter...



Mom and Don before the rattle snake days... I'm sorry I missed this picture before Don died. I would've given him hell about wearing high heels and carryin' a purse! What a city slicker!

Mimi (flat-land diva), Don, and My Big Dutch (fixin' a Seagram's VO and coke) at the lake

Happy Thanksgiving

I don't know these guys but I like them, and they remind me of Guffman for some reason.
I'll have to try the pie and jack!(?)
Happy Thanksgiving! I am sincerely thankful for you everyday and love you!


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How I ended up like this

10 reasons why my mother is the coolest person in the world:

1. She loves people unconditionally and models such an amazing example of tolerance and temperance for me and the Putz. She has always helped us see that we need to put ourselves in other people's shoes. Of course there is sometimes the "Oh good gravy!" outburst (who says that?) when she is flustered, but she would rather feed people in a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving and visit people who are lonely or sad than participate in any of the other pomp and circumstance that life sometimes blinds us with. Please don't misunderstand; Mom is the first to lead an impromptu baton twirling march around the backyard (sorry about your ankle), but she knows what is most important.

2. She keeps a Ginger drawer at her house and fills it with articles from magazines, newspaper clippings, clothing and shoe catalogues, and other "treasures" that remind her of me or that she knows will be relevant to me. I look forward to pilfering through the Ginger drawer at each visit.

3. She has "Elvis church" on Sunday mornings. As soon as she wakes up, the Elvis gospel CD is on and Mom sings loudly enough that God AND the neighbors can hear it, and she has such a beautiful voice that no one minds. In fact it's contagious!

4. Music has always been a major part of our household, whether it was a holiday (we were usually startled out of our beds with blaring Sousa marches on the morning of the 4th of July, at Christmas time it was usually Jingle Bell Rock, and I've already mentioned Sundays), or just because. Each morning she would wake us with "You Are My Sunshine" and would respond to our cranky morning sour faces (since we woke up to that damn sunshine song) with "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile." At the time, we felt that she was sick and twisted and singing just to torture us, but now I miss it. Every time I see her, she wants to introduce us to a new song she just heard. Hey Mom, remember when we were at Texas Roadhouse and you were telling us about "I Hope You'll Dance" and the song played three times back to back - probably because a management type really liked the song - but we pretended it was a personal message to Putz, Wratch and me? I loved that! Also since I was a budding musician (I was in every music class CHS offered), she tolerated a lot of music practice from me and my friends. Her favorite (and she still mentions this) is when my friend Neal would come over and play "Hey Jude" on the piano. So from Willie Nelson to Chopin, from show tunes to "Save a Horse and Ride a Cowboy," and from to AC/DC to "Do Lord," my mom influences (and sometimes berates us) through music.

5. She has a purse dog, but doesn't groom it like a typical purse dog. The dog's name is Sugar (short for Sugar Plum Fairy) and runs the household, but we love her. There is still much debate over whether she actually trained Sugar to sit on our heads or whether she simply encourages Sugar with her strict and bold discipline of "oh Sugar, no. It's bad manners to sit on people's heads. Rich and Ginger are our friends. Yeah. Come here to me. Who-zha-bebe?"

6. My mom thinks that ruby slippers, feathery fringe, and sparklers can save the world.

7. Mom welcomes all of my friends into her house, even the seriously silly ones.

One of my favorite trips was the one where Fougs and I went on a road trip to visit. Right before we left town, we went to the dollar store and bought fuzzy pink boas and glittering tiaras in Mom's honor and in order to get into the perfect mind set for the visit (which is completely ironic since Fougs and I are more the tree climbing, tomboy, we will verbally kick your ass but only if the other is there for back-up, philosopher types). We wore them the entire 5 1/2 hours it took to get to Lubbock and Mom loved it! She keeps the tiara on her kitchen cabinet. By the way, this was the first time Fougs went to visit Mom. Thanks for being a good sport, Fougs, and a total goofball to match my goofballery, and thanks Mom for welcoming us and for the homemade hot chocolate!

8. Mom makes a damn good margarita.

9. She is hilarious in movies. Mom generally interacts with the film, loudly. She claps during the redemption scenes; she yells "That can't happen!" during the unbelievable or ridiculous parts; she gasps loudly and puts her arm across the person next to her, stranger or no, (like a human seat belt) when something startling happens; and she cries at both the happy and sad moments. (A classic example from when I was a kid is when she cried during The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movie because the Footclan (little boys) didn't have mothers to take care of them.) Going to the movies with Mom is quite the experience! (and thanks for always wearing long skirts to the movies so that when Putz or I got cold, you could spread the skirt over us like a blanket)

10. She thinks I can do anything, but she still lets me sit in her lap.

This short list does not do Mom justice, because she is so much more! I didn't even mention the Lady Raiders, The Nutcracker, Harley engines, the fireplace table, the fact that she worries I might be arrested someday (I'll leave you all guessing at that one), that her alias (just in case she needs one) is Monique, or pot roast!

I love you Mom! I'll see you soon!

Basketballs and Guinea Pigs

There are 5 or 6 little neighborhood boys (one might be a girl) who are constantly playing outside together. Everywhere they go, they carry a ball of some sort; today it was a basketball.
Anyway, they don't know my name but they know that I'm Mr. Haag's wife, and they know Mr. Haag because their big brothers were in his class last year, they think. They are nice enough to wave at me if they see me outside and they are happy to sell me cookie dough for their school fundraiser (and I'm happy to buy, though I've never actually received any cookie dough). It's a reciprocal relationship.

Today the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, there stood the lot of them, bouncing and bouncing and bouncing the basketball. They stood there for a second looking confusedly at me, like they didn't remember that they were the ones who initiated the contact. The one wearing the blue shirt pulls something out from behind his back and holds it up to me as he says, "Hey, do you want this?"
That something is squirming.
Because I've been teaching for 9 years and because I taught 7th graders for 5 of them, I didn't jump back or squeal or do anything girlie, but it did take me a second to recognize that the boy in the blue shirt was holding a guinea pig.
Me: Is that a guinea pig?
Boy in Blue: Uh. I think so.
(Boy in Blue passes the flailing, terrified rodent to me around the bouncing basketball. I take it and hold it close, petting its back because I feel sad for it.(Ok. So I am girlie))
Me: Is it yours?
All of the boys: yes!
Boy in Blue: But I don't want it anymore. Do you want it?
Me: Why don't you want it?
Boy Who Needs a Haircut: My dad and I really want it, but my mom said no.
Red Headed Freckled Boy: See, I told you it was a bad idea to go door to door to give it away!
Me: But look how sweet he is. Are you sure you don't want him?
Boy in Blue: Yes.
Me: How long have you had him?
All: (Say different numbers at the same time.)
Red Headed Freckled Boy: No. You've had him for 2 days.
Me: Does he have a name?
Boy in Blue: No.
Me: You didn't name him? Do you have a cage for him?
All: Yes.
Boy Who Might be a Girl: But you dug that cage out of the trash.
(All nod)
(Basketball continues bouncing and boys blink at me)
Me: I don't think I can keep him because I have two kitties who might eat him.
Red Headed Freckled Boy: Oh yeah!
Boy Who Might be a Girl: I have two dogs!
(All nod)
Me: I'll tell you what. Let's wait until Mr. Haag gets home and we'll see what he says, but I'm pretty sure he'll say no because of the cats (Rich is a good scapegoat). Look how calm your guinea pig is.
Boy Who Needs a Haircut: (to the Boy in Blue) He never acts like that when you hold him.
Me: All you have to do is make sure to hold him real close and hold his feet so that he knows you won't drop him. Also, don't make any loud noises because that makes him nervous.
(Basketball stops bouncing. Boy in Blue smirks and looks at his friends who are wide-eyed. I pass the guinea pig back to him. Boy in Blue is already heading towards the next house. Basketball resumes bouncing.)
Red Headed Freckled Boy calls after him: Hey! You forgot to say thank you.
All boys turn and yell: Thank you!
I close the door.

My thoughts:
1. Those kids are hysterical!
2. I wonder if their parents know they are giving away the family pet, or even worse, a little sister's pet.
3. I need to wash my hands

Already the boys have forgotten about the guinea pig. They are currently riding bikes, playing with a remote control car and yes, bouncing that basketball. I hope the guinea pig made it home.