It’s Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas

I received another good dose of holiday spirit yesterday when a student presented me with a card.  Inside, she wrote:

I have been so lucky (and happy) to have you to confide in!  Seeing and talking to you always lifts my spirits.  It has been a blessing to have you in my life.  My words could not cover the amount of gratitude I have for all your help!  Thank you so much!  You’re like my school mommy!  You’re an amazing and encouraging woman!  I pray you get all you want and deserve!  Love, B

I cried when I read her words.  There’s a lot of crap going on at work (for one thing, I’m involved in a grievance against an administrator), but kids like B, along with my “merry band of misfits,” remind me of what’s important about my job – the students.

Speaking of students, here’s an update on Manny the Puppet Master.  He’s been busy working on his resumé and applying for jobs.  Please keep your fingers crossed for him.  He deserves a break.

Merry Christmas!

Song of the Day:  It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas;
Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.

Smells Like Christmas Spirit

A couple of weeks ago, I was in the library office with a few students, one of whom has seen (and caused) more than his fair share of trouble. On display on the shelves in the office are some of the librarian’s souvenirs from her trips, including a marionette from South America.   Manny has had no prior experience with string puppets, so we were all amazed and delighted when he picked it up, laid down a beat, and made the clown dance.

After watching his performance, I decided to get Manny his very own marionette.  I put it in a Christmas gift bag, and gave it to him this past Thursday.  I wish you could have seen his face when he saw me holding that bag out to him.  His expression was one of pure disbelief.  He kept saying, “No.  Really?  No. Really?  That’s a present for me?”   I was finally able to convince Manny that it was indeed for him.  Much to my surprise,  he had tears in his eyes as he accepted the gift.  When he looked inside and saw the marionette, a huge smile spread across his face.  He thanked me over and over, and gave me a big hug.

Manny is a “tough guy,” and I thought he might be embarrassed to walk around the halls with a puppet, so I suggested that he put it in his backpack. He said, “Are you kidding?? I want to show this off!!”

Manny’s priceless reaction to an unexpected gift really touched my heart and gave me a good dose of Christmas spirit.

Song of the Day:  The Spirit of Christmas by Ray Charles

“Sharing so much joy and cheer
What a wonderful feeling.”

To the Rhythm of the Boogie, the Beat

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Keep Your Hands and Your Words to Yourself

I just read an entry over at LA’s place, the content of which left me feeling pretty disturbed.  It triggered some deeply unpleasant memories about being sexually harassed.  My worst experience had more to do with words than it did with groping, but a lot of damage was done, nonetheless.

It began about a year after I started working at the high school.  The creep in question was an English teacher.  He knew that I was married, and was married, himself.   This man would sneak up behind me and whisper in my ear.  He always made comments about the way I walked, as well as what I was wearing and how I looked in it.  Things got so bad, I started to wear loose, shapeless clothing, and even went so far as to put on some extra pounds.   That wasn’t my conscious intention, but I have no doubt that the stress, combined with a fervent wish for Mr. Creepy to stop overtly lusting after me, had a lot to do with the weight gain.

The situation reached the boiling point and finally ended with me in tears, shouting at him to “Stop! Stop watching me so closely!  Stop looking at me like that!  Stop making those remarks! Just stop!”

After my outburst, I ran into the library office and sobbed my heart out.  The librarian I worked with at the time knew what was going on, and she was very supportive.  She did her best to comfort me, and suggested that I turn him in, but I was afraid to do that.  This was happening during the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas hearings, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being put through what Ms. Hill was going through.  I was already feeling much too vulnerable as it was.

Fortunately, Mr. Creepy did stop bothering me after my public outburst, but I didn’t feel comfortable and relaxed at work again until he retired.  Good riddance to bad rubbish.

I had an ugly reminder of those days a couple of weeks ago when another co-worker (someone I barely know), in response to my totally innocent remark about rubbing a magic lamp, replied that he had something else I could rub.  This was not the first inappropriate comment he made to me, but it was the last straw.  I felt sick to my stomach, and once again retreated to the sanctuary of the library office.  To complete the feeling of Déjà vu, it was once again a librarian who was a witness to my tears, and who tried to console me.

I am neither a delicate flower nor a prude.  Among friends, I am perfectly comfortable with dirty jokes and conversations about sex. But this kind of thing is something else entirely.

Psychologists and social workers report that severe/chronic sexual harassment can have the same psychological effects as rape or sexual assault.

Sexual harassment hurts.

Song of the Day: Keep Your Hands to Yourself by The Georgia Satellites

Bully For You, Chilly For Me

Over a year ago, someone left a comment here in reference to a book that was in the process of being created, with the theme “feelings.” The authors performed web searches using the keyword “feel.”  That search brought them to this entry, in which I stated: I just want to feel like a normal, healthy person.

The person who left the comment asked if I would allow them to publish the photo of me knitting on the beach (also from the above-mentioned entry).  I responded with a “yes,” and soon received an email advising me that there were thousands of applicants, and I would hear back if I made the final cut. I honestly didn’t think anything would come of it.

Several months later, I received notification that my photo had been selected to be included in the book, We Feel Fine: An Almanac of Human Emotion.   Even though I signed a release form, I still found it hard to believe that this was actually going to happen.

Another email arrived today, informing me that the book is due to be released on December 1st, and I will be receiving a complimentary copy. I also received an invitation to attend the launch party on December 5th, in New York City.

How cool is that?

Song of the Day:  Fame by David Bowie

Enough is Enough

A lot has happened since I last posted here.  Right before I went back to work in early September, my grandmother was admitted to the hospital.  She was there for quite some time, and it was touch and go for a while.  She ended up getting a pacemaker.  As you can imagine, that was a very stressful time.

Last month, I participated in our annual  “Dress Up As A Literary Character Day”  at work.  I went as Jacob Marley from A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens.  What a trip that was.

On Tuesday, the husband of a much loved co-worker died unexpectedly.  I went to the shiva house after work on Friday, and was dismayed to see how frail and fragile my co-worker looks.  She and her husband were married for 41 years, and they were incredibly devoted to each other.  My heart aches for her, as it does for my darling LA, her fiancée, and his family as they deal with the very recent loss of Mick’s grandmother.   Please keep them all in your thoughts and prayers.

A little over a week ago, my father had a total knee replacement.  At present, he is in a rehabilitation facility for physical therapy, which means that my 98 year-old grandmother is alone.  Michele, Mike and I have been running around like those proverbial chickens with their heads cut off.  I am beyond exhausted, and in extraordinary pain.  I don’t know how I’m going to walk to work every morning this week (Daniel is visiting his family in Canada)… The walk home isn’t too bad, but I am especially stiff and achy in the morning.  This is going to be very difficult for me.

Yesterday, Leigh had to go to a walk-in clinic because she thought she had a UTI. Turns out that she has an unusually high amount of protein in her urine, which the doctor said can be indicative of kidney disease.   He wants her to follow up with a urologist.

To top things off, Tuesday will mark the third anniversary of my brother’s death.

As I said on Facebook, my “downer” quota has been filled for the month.  No more, please.

Song of the Day:  Downer by Nirvana

My Eyelids Have Fallen and They Can’t Get Up

Hurray!  I finally made it to the seashore!  Leigh, her boyfriend, Eric, and I spent Tuesday night and most of Wednesday afternoon in Seaside Heights, NJ.  Wednesday morning, I went for a walk around 7:00 a.m. in search of coffee.  I found a deli about a block from our motel.  Speaking of the motel, which was only a few steps from the boardwalk, this was the view from my window.  Sweet.

Anyway, while I was waiting at the counter, a woman walked over to pay for her breakfast sandwich.  I looked up and was stunned and overjoyed to see that it was LA!   After much squealing and hugging, LA channeled Humphrey Bogart and said, “Of all the delis in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Heh!  We ended up spending the day together on the beach with our combined clans, and had an absolutely wonderful time.  I knew that LA was in Seaside Heights this week with Mick and Wolf, and did hope that we would be able to get together.  Before LA left for the Jersey shore, she made the comment that it would be funny if the first time we managed to see each other in so long would be when we were both 100 miles from home.  Well, that’s exactly what happened, but I never expected to bump into her at a deli first thing in the morning.  Talk about a serendipitous experience! When LA told Mick about our chance encounter, he remarked that he would have been more surprised if it had happened to any other people.  But, with the two of us, he’s come to expect wild and wonderful things.

One of those wonderful things happened when LA and I were standing at the edge of the water.  Mick came down and wrapped his arms around LA.  Seconds later, Wolf walked over and put his arms around me.  My heart melted into a puddle that mingled with the surf foam and was drawn out to sea by the receding waves.

I am reminded of the John Lennon song, “Beautiful Boy” every time I see Wolf.  He really is remarkable in a lot of ways, just like his mother.  Thanks for a perfectly delightful day, LA & Co!

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Today marks yet another birthday…  I am now FIFTY-FREAKING-FIVE YEARS OLD.  I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it is for me to believe that.  Lucky for me, it seems to be difficult for others to believe, as well.

During the last week of summer school, a student was talking to two of her friends about “cougars.”  She turned to me and asked if I was familiar with the term.  I replied, “Well, yes, I guess I am, considering that I’m married to a much younger man.”  They asked how old I am, and the look on their faces when I told them was priceless.  One exclaimed, “No you’re not!”  Another demanded that I produce my birth certificate.  The third further endeared herself to me by remarking that I look like I’m in my thirties.  Now I know that’s not true (see entry title), but it felt good to hear it, nonetheless.

Here’s this year’s birthday photo.   (My hair is a lot shorter than I’m accustomed to wearing it, but, believe it or not, this is three month’s growth after a particularly devastating haircut.)

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My blog (I still have a hard time using that word) had a birthday recently, too.  I started an online journal (that’s what we called it back then) on August 21, 2001.   On September 23, 2001, I posted this entry about my reasons for creating an online journal:

Anatomy of a Diarist

Since my initiation into the Online Journal Club, I’ve been giving the genre a fair amount of thought.  Non-journalers tend to perceive the phenomenon as a “Dear Diary” sort of thing.  For all I know, some journalers approach it that way themselves.  But, that’s not how I see it. I feel more like a reporter whose subject just happens to be (for the most part) my life.  Of course, I don’t “report” in a New York Times fashion.  I don’t have that kind of training, and I don’t take myself that seriously.  I try to inject a little humor into my entries, and maybe even the occasional stab at pathos.  To me, this process is more akin to journalism or writing essays than it is to keeping a diary.  While I will discuss personal matters, it is not necessarily my intention to bare my soul.  Some things are just too private.

My reasons for writing are varied.  For one thing, I find that I don’t express myself as well vocally, having a tendency to get tongue-tied.  I like to consider what I’m going to say before blurting it out, and verbal conversations don’t afford me enough time to do that.  Writing gives me the opportunity to make more in-depth observations.  Often, writing will lead me to a better understanding of myself, and even an occasional revelation.  (R-E-F-L-E-C-T, find out what it means to me!)

Before taking the online journal plunge, I indulged the frustrated writer lurking within on a fairly regular basis in the form of letter writing.  Email is a vehicle I use on a daily basis.  I also used to exchange lengthy “snail mail” missives (25 pages and upward) with a friend in Pennsylvania. (Hi, Karen!)  Our correspondences were written in installments, and mailed at intervals of approximately every six months.  We included lots of photos, and found this a very satisfying way to stay in touch.

My writing method varies.  Sometimes my mood is light and casual; at others, it is bruised and introspective.   My entries are typically full of whining, joking, and boasting (usually about my kids).  During my darker moments, I find that writing about my feelings (and what causes them) really can be therapeutic.  This catharsis doesn’t exactly purge me of all negativity, but it does help to lessen my load considerably.  Sharing my triumphs and/or failures with an audience through an online journal lightens my burden even more.  Also, I recently read that writing lowers stress-related chemicals in the body, which is another good reason to allow myself this indulgence!

In closing, I’d like to share something Daniel told me quite some time ago, in reference to Alexander Solzhenitsyn, author of A Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovitch, and the staggering Gulag Archipelago.

“When Solzhenitsyn was writing in secret in Russia, paper was such a luxury to him.  Where we in the West have the freedom to scrawl haphazardly across a seemingly endless supply of paper, Solzhenitsyn literally could not waste a square inch of paper.  Every blank space had to be filled with his brilliance before he dared move on to another piece lest he run out of pages, and not transmit his profound thoughts to a world in desperate need of them.”

How humbling. Certainly, the world is not in desperate need of MY thoughts, so I am especially appreciative of those taking the time to read this.

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Re-reading that entry makes me realize how much I used to depend on this form of release to manage stress.  It also makes me realize how much lighter my stress load is these days.  Oh sure, I still have chronic pain and financial burdens to deal with.  But there’s not nearly as much angst in my life as there was before.  After years of turbulence and heartache, I now have wonderful relationships with my daughters.   I am married to a kind, loving, supportive man who compliments me daily.  In short, I don’t have as much to get off my chest as I did in the past, which I suppose is why I don’t post here very often any more.

Still, it’s good to know that this place is here if I need it as a dumping ground, or even if I just want to drop in to say hello or show you some pictures.  Thanks for sticking around.  My world wouldn’t be the same without you.

Reading:  Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

Song of the Day:  Celebration by Kool and the Gang

It’s Not Easy Being Green

I had an appointment with Dr. Spine Specialist yesterday to review the results of my latest MRI.  I already knew that I have a herniated disc in my lumbar spine.  What I didn’t know is that I have three of them.  I also have quite a bit of arthritis, as well as a fair amount of scar tissue in the area of the discectomy that was performed back in 2004.  All of these things contribute to my lower back pain.

Dr. Spine Specialist mentioned surgery as an option, and warned me that it will be a more complicated procedure this time because it will involve spinal fusion.  Umm, no thanks.    Not unless I absolutely can’t bear the pain any longer.

Before I left his office, Dr. Spine Specialist gave me an autographed copy of his book.   Thanks, doc.  See you again in five months.

I can’t believe summer “vacation” is almost over.  I use the word “vacation” loosely because I didn’t do any vacationing this year.  What a bummer.  I did get to the beach on Monday, but it was just the Long Island Sound at Hammonasset State Park in Connecticut.  It was brutally hot, and, when I tried to go in the water to cool off, I had to turn back because the bottom was so rocky I was afraid I would lose my footing.  So, I sat there in the sweltering heat for four hours, and ended up with a sunburn, despite wearing a large straw hat and heavy applications of sunblock.   I’m really hoping to get to the ocean before I go back to work, but I’m not feeling very optimistic about that happening.

At least my daughter, Rebecca, got to go away on vacation.  She and her boyfriend just got back from a wonderfully adventurous trip to Mexico.

They snorkeled on the reef and in a cenote, saw the ruins of Tulum, and went zip lining and rappelling.

While I am truly happy for Becca, I also have to admit that I am green with envy.  Sigh.

Song of the Day:  It’s Not Easy Being Green by Kermit the Frog

Suspended Animation

This morning, it was brought to my attention (thanks, LA!) that my blog was not accessible.  When I went to check it out, I got this message:  “This blog has been archived or suspended for violation of our Terms of Service.”  Umm, okayyyy…

I emailed WordPress support to find out what was going on, and received this response:

“I am really sorry for that happening – I cannot see why yet but I can assure you it will not happen again.  The blog is back just as you left it and I very much apologize for the trouble we caused you.”

Geez, I wonder what that was all about…

In other news, I finally have a couple of ripe tomatoes.

Those beauties have been cut up, sprinkled with salt and garlic powder, drizzled with olive oil, and topped with sliced onions, as well as some basil, also from my garden.  I only wish I had some fresh mozzarella…

Even though the tomato plants are taking their sweet time producing ripe tomatoes, they have grown like gangbusters.  The tallest is the cherry tomato plant, which almost reaches one of the kitchen windows.

Sunflowers are something new for me.  Next year, I’d like to try my hand at growing the really big ones.

This morning glory is taking over one side of my porch.  The flowers are a gorgeous dark purple, but I never remember to go out with my camera until after the flowers have closed up.

This fern is noteworthy because it has doubled in size since I got it at the end of June.  It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to it when the time comes.  In the past, I’ve tried bringing ferns inside for the winter, but they’re too messy.  Too bad they couldn’t be put into suspended animation…

Song of the Day: Suspended Animation by Pestilence

Reading:  East of the Sun by Julia Gregson

God Shed His Grace on Thee

A few years ago, a co-worker/friend was involved in a terrible car accident.   The car in which she was a passenger was hit head on by a drunk driver.

Felicia suffered severe head injuries, and was in a coma for 8 months.  Against all odds, she came out of the coma, but she will never be the same.

Felicia has three children, ages 9, 13, and 16.  They are currently on America’s Got Talent.   This clip isn’t the best quality, but it is incredibly moving.  I’ve been sitting here watching and crying (along with Sharon Osborne) for half an hour.

God bless you and your family, Felicia.

In other news, Daniel will become a U.S. citizen today.  When he went for his citizenship test in NYC a few weeks ago, he told the examiner, “After marrying my wife, this will be the greatest honor of my life.”

Congratulations, Daniel!  (I’ve been calling him Mr. America.)

Song of the Day: America the Beautiful