More Stuff

At 4:30, I finished my PowerPoint for my presentation in my writing class tomorrow. Bellydancing class is at 6:00. I realized I might as well stay here, since bellydancing is right down the street and my house is 30 minutes away.

So I'm at school and I should be writing my memoir rough draft for tomorrow night, but I've been trying to get that done since last Wednesday and it's just not working out right now. So I guess I'll blog about all the fun we're having here.

The new semester has been an adventure. I have almost all new students in my reading and creative writing classes. The writing class I'm taking is proving to be very strenuous. I put about 15 hours of reading/writing per week, plus three hours of class time each week. But when I'm done, I have my reading endorsement. I've been working on it for two years, so it will be nice to have it over with.

I've been recruited to join the district's literacy committee, as well. I go to my first meeting on Wednesday after school. So there's another new thing I've added this year. When I get done with the writing class, I'll probably also be joining the group that reads and approves novels for the district.

Al has been doing well. We had quite a scare a couple of weeks ago. We got word that Al's Area Director had been laid off and Chili's was closing stores. Rumors and assumptions were flying everywhere from about 5:00 on a Tuesday night until about 10:00 Wednesday morning. I was trying to come to terms with the idea that I might be serving tables again to supplement income. In the end, they closed seven stores in the region, none of which were in Utah. Of course, that doesn't mean that there won't be more cuts, so we pretty much are keeping our fingers crossed and Al is trying to be an even better manager than he already is. That whole scare made us pretty appreciative of the money we've managed to save and for my job security. It made the whole "rainy day" scenario very real. I just feel horrible, though, for the managers and employees of the stores that were closed. The recession is hitting a little too close to home.

Even though my job is secure, we're looking at really cutting back on education budgets. One idea on the table is to make all high school teachers teach seven periods, whereas right now they teach six (3 on A-days, 3 on B-Days, with one prep period each day). I'm doing that schedule this year and am getting paid extra for productivity. Let me tell you, it's killer! I'm expecting a big fight with the union if this becomes a serious possibility. Even being paid extra, it's barely worth it. I'm stretched so thin and I know I'm not as effective of a teacher.

Being an aunt again is also a lot of fun. I haven't been able to spend much time with Blakelee, but the time I've had with her so far has been fabulous. Perhaps when she starts being more awake it'll be even better! Even Al has been trying to become more comfortable with her, since right now, he's really only comfortable with kids 8 and up. He's doing a good job!

Well, there's about a million things I should be doing now, so I'm going to go and get to them before I have to leave school for bellydancing class. If you'd like to see my brilliant PowerPoint on how I teach the voice writing trait, please let me know. I even downloaded a special theme for it...that's how fancy I'm getting!

This time next week, I'll be packing for Vegas!

The Country On My Mind

It's no secret that I'm a supporter of President Obama. Those who don't want to support him certainly have a right to their own opinions, but I'm amused by the people who think they can simply deny he is now our President. I grew out of the whole If-I-Don't-See-You-Then-You-Aren't-There mentality before Kindergarten.

I'm also tired of being told by the outspoken Nobamas that I should not voice my support, because by doing so I'm automatically naive and think he's omniscient (I'm not and I don't), and that by supporting the President, I'm unamerican and a socialist (again, I'm not and I'm not). I also find it ironic that most of these unamerican accusations come from people who think it's ok to deny homosexuals their "unalienable right to...the pursuit of happiness," but that's another issue for another day.

I'm not going to agree with everything Obama says or does. He was my choice for President because I agreed with him on more issues than McCain. Obama is a stout supporter of education issues and the need to reform a well-intentioned but poorly administrated program. McCain wanted to ignore a problem he didn't believe existed. Obama wants to change things that aren't working. McCain wanted to keep things pretty much the same. Obama wants to socialize medicine. I think that's something that should be explored in order to protect our "unalienable right to life...." And I don't see anything Obama is doing that will endanger our right to liberty. That being said, I didn't agree with him on 100% of the issues so naturally I'm not going to agree with everything he does. I don't think that makes me hypocritical or unsupportive. And for those of you who are going to jump on the "You said you're not a socialist but you support socialized medicine" argument, let me say that I am also in favor of public education...which could also be correctly labeled "socialist education." Yes, certain aspects of our society should be socialized, NOT society as a whole. "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness"--health and education are critical elements of those rights that we hold dear.

So for the record, here is where I currently stand:

Things that we should not be arguing about:

• A $500,000 salary cap on executives of companies that are being bailed out by government money: Apparently, all this talent is going to go somewhere where it can be paid millions of dollars and get Las Vegas getaways and free cars. Then the companies left "talentless" are going to tank...period. Well, if these top execs were so talented, then they wouldn't need the government and the "little people" to bail out the companies that they couldn't manage to run profitably. Let them leave. (Assuming they can find a job--what flourishing company is going to hire someone who helped drive a company under and then bailed when they were asked to show a little personal sacrifice?) But if by some miracle, they move on to a new multi-million dollar company to ruin, and these failing companies that are left behind manage to find someone who's willing to do the same job for a paltry half-million a year, we might actually be dealing with a person who isn't obsessed with his/her own personal greed. Once the company is back on track and has paid back the government money, then it becomes a private industry and can pay whatever it wants in salaries, which may just help to motivate these poor new execs during this difficult time of $500,000-per-year budgeting.


• The tax issues of Cabinet nominees: people lie. Obama is not omniscient. The truth came out, they're gone, and now there's room for more honest people in their places. The fact that Obama didn't make excuses or try to keep them on is proof that he is committed to the high standards he has set for himself and his people.


• The need for improved child health care. These kids whose parents can't afford health care didn't choose to be born. They'll suffer enough for their parent's stupidity in other ways and in other places; they should at least be healthy in the mean time.
  

Things we should be questioning:

• Using tobacco money to support the child health care improvements: This is going to hit the poor the hardest. Poverty studies show that when individuals and families live below the poverty line, they tend to value entertainment above other things. This means that when you walk into a poor area, you're going to see nice cars with thousands of dollars of enhancements and a great alarm system, gaming systems and expensive televisions in the living room, iPhones and Blackberries, great stereo systems, etc. Meanwhile, the kids are eating ramen noodles and wearing too-small clothes that were bought for them last year at the Salvation Army. Poverty is usually caused by the failure to manage money well. The majority of smokers are beneath the poverty level. Raising taxes on cigarettes is not going to reduce smoking--this entire plan is counting on smokers continuing to shell out more money for the same product. Smoking budget goes up, Joe Smoker compensates by taking it out of the food/clothing fund, kids suffer. I think smoking is disgusting, and I think we need to do more to stop it, but I'm opposed to anything that wants to raise the tax on smoking. It won't prevent/reduce smoking, and innocent dependents are the ones who are going to get the brunt of it.


• Delaying Digital TV: This shouldn't even be an issue. Get your free converter box from your cable company. Now you're fine. You've had months and months to do this. The people who waited this long are the same people who are going to wait until after the next deadline as well. More time isn't going to solve any of the potential problems, so let's get it over with and just rip off the band-aid. I don't even know why this should be something the President is worrying about.
  

Something we should appreciate:

• A President who is willing to go on the record and say "I screwed up." No excuses, no justification or rationalization, just a simple statement of human fault. "I screwed up." He could have rationalized his ingorance of his cabinet nominees' tax history, but he just admitted he was wrong. Bush screwed up all the time. Did he say it? No. He wouldn't even pronounce "nuclear" correctly, which only solidified his ideas that his way was the right way because he was the President. After all, if he suddenly started saying it right, people would notice and then everyone would know that he was wrong about something, which would completely undermine his authority. (At least that's how I think he saw it.) Then there was Clinton--"I didn't inhale." "I did not have sexual intercourse with that woman." Why he couldn't have just admitted that he did it and he was wrong is beyond me. The fact that he was clearly lying was the only reason people even cared and still remember about it. Meanwhile, Obama answered the pot question with "I inhaled--frequently--that was the point." He also admits to being an ex-smoker who uses Nicorette and still sometimes gives in to cravings. On both of these issues, the American public seems to be saying, "Thanks for being honest. Let's move on to things that are actually important." We're not wasting our time obsessing about how the President lied to us. So no, Obama is not a deity flying in on some winged mythical creature to save the day, and he is able to stand in front of a camera and admit that he's an actual fallible human being. I have to say that I like that.

Special Olympics

I really do have a lot to blog about. So many things have happened...a new neice, a new president, new hatchlings! But I've also been dealing with a new semester and a hectic schedule. I'm finishing my reading endorsement with a writing course at night, I've taken up a 6-week belly dancing class, and I'm still trying to make it to the gym every now and then. When I finally am at home, I just want to crash...you know? So I'm sorry about being lazy with the blogging. I will play catch-up this weekend while I watch tv online, but for now, here is the latest fun time...Fullers Field playing the Special Olympics opening ceremonies dance!

Check out Mom and Dad's dance lesson moves! Also, off to the right, you can see Danny dancing with one of the athletes. She was in heaven!

Here's a friend we made:

99 Red Balloons:

Even more balloons:

And the end of the song...Danny is dancing with his little friend again!

I didn't get it on video, but I put some pictures on FaceBook of when the band let some athletes take the instruments to perform Jordan's Jingle. It was so cute. They just loved being the center of attention!

A little bit of "Keep Swingin'"

"Take On Me"

More "Take On Me"

And the end of the song...with a big finish:

Signing autographs:

But in the end, the band rocked so hard that Little Jeremy lost his head in a tragic falling incident. Superglue, anyone?

The guys from Wasatch Sound were kind enough to reset the mike to give this athlete a chance to shine:

My Very Special Friend

I think I may have to make this a tradition. January 12 is a day when my thoughts are consumed by Josh, since today is the 8th anniversary of his death. I remember a lot about that day and the week following, but it all blurs together and time becomes more of a river than a nice, organized, segmented collection of frames. But I don't dwell on that time, I dwell on the crazy things he did and the good times...like how when I'd get dressed up and ask him how I looked, he'd say, "Yuck!"...how everything got dipped in ketchup...how he could crack all of his fingers and all of his toes...my amazement when he cracked an egg all by himself...trying futily to hit that stupid pinata...knowing when my family arrived at my basketball games because he was the best cheerer out there...how when we huddled up after said game, I'd feel him hugging me from behind, and then he'd walk with me while I went through the motions of the obligatory "good game, good game, good game" high fives...I could quite easily list the millions of these.


In honor of Josh, here is a short story I wrote this past year. It's based on real events, but a lot has been fictionalized. I'll tell you at the end what's what:



“You must be a retard, too!”

“Don’t you have any real friends?”

“Are you stupid like them?”

The disdain of fifth graders can be cruel, and this was no exception. I’d signed up for the Special Friends program because I thought it would be fun and I was genuinely interested in being involved. As a Special Friend, I spent a half an hour in the Special Education room three days a week. I also ate lunch with the class and teachers in their room on Wednesdays. In 1988, Mainstreaming, now known as “Inclusion,” was a fairly new idea. My elementary school, instead of putting special education students into regular education classrooms, did the opposite and brought regular education students into the special education classroom.

I had eagerly agreed to participate in the program when I registered, but this wasn’t turning out the way I’d expected. As an Army Brat I found myself, once again, the new kid in school, and aligning myself with the “retards” was nothing short of social suicide. In the newly forming world of elementary school social status, I was swiftly sliding to an inevitable future as the fifth grade pariah.

Things were great during those half-hour visits. I was amazed at Jared’s superhuman hearing and ability to recognize me by the sound of my footsteps and his internal clock that told him it was 10:30am. I loved that he learned to say my name after three visits, even though he could barely communicate verbally. Any bad day was wiped away by Sophia’s sweet disposition and everpresent smile. She always knew when I needed a hug. Tyrone could memorize anything after hearing it twice and I found that he was the perfect study-buddy. In spite of his being in Special Education, I credit him with helping me through fifth grade math.

And then there was Eddie. “Hey, buddy!” was his standard greeting, no matter who he was talking to or even if he knew them. If his target made eye contact, then “Shake hands!” was next. “Me, Eddie. Your name?” he’d ask while pumping his new friend’s hand in his tight grip. Once Eddie was introduced, there was a hug to seal the friendship and he moved on to meet the next person. In his mind, Eddie had a lot of friends in the school. But I saw that the social stigma of being “retarded,” in Eddie’s case, having Down Syndrome, loomed dangerously near, threatening to crush his spirit.

I was sure that the horrible behavior of the “regular” students would wear him down, and I dreaded the day that Eddie finally figured out that his “friends” were really just the unlucky kids who didn’t see him quickly enough and get away in time. Calls of “Run! It’s the hugging retard!” echoed down the hall as students fled in front of him, screaming, ignoring the teachers’ futile reminders to “Please walk, students!” and “Inside voices!” Students behind him cringed in doorways, in obvious fear that he would turn around and trap them, but eager to see who would be his latest victim.

Anyone slow enough to be a hugging-Eddie-casualty would be subjected to endless torment at lunch, often required to keep a one-empty-seat barrier between himself and all others at the table – at least until the next day when the hugging-Eddie-germs had miraculously disappeared.
For me, this was a daily reality. My peers knew when I had spent time in the Special Ed room and tormented me mercilessly. No one would sit directly next to me for fear of catching whatever invisible germs I might be carrying. Even my best friend, Heather, participated in my ostracization. She dutifully sat one chair away as she opened her brown bag lunch and carefully studied the landscape of her bread in order to avoid direct eye contact. Looking back, I’m sure it was self-preservation that led her to participate. Nevertheless, to my fifth grade self esteem, it was a powerful blow.

I was miserable, but I also worried for Eddie, sure that the truth would finally hit him. I knew that one day, very soon, I would walk into room 111 and find him inconsolable with the realization that he didn’t really have friends, just kids he hunted down in the hall.

“So why do you want to leave the program?” The counselor looked at me with an unreadable expression. I was expecting disappointment, shame, accusation. But it was a simple, matter-of-fact question.

I didn’t want to tell her about the lunchroom or about how I couldn’t deal with Eddie finding out that he was as more of an outcast than me. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I wanted my best friend to talk to me again instead of staring at her sandwich. I didn’t tell her that I went home sick every day, either because I’d been in room 111 or knew I’d have to go tomorrow. But more than anything, I was ashamed to admit who I was really letting down, the reason I looked for disappointment, shame, and accusation on her face.

Josh was two years old at the time. Born with Down Syndrome, he’d already been through two open-heart surgeries to repair a leaking mitral valve. My interest in being a Special Friend had everything to do with him. Faced with this question, “Why do you want to leave the program?” I realized that even though I had so many reasons to get out, I had an even bigger reason to stay.

If this is what Josh had to look forward to when he entered school, then I wanted to change it. I wanted him to have real friends. I wanted him to be accepted, not just in spite of his differences, but because of them. I wanted him to never have to face the meanness and spitefulness of the “normal” kids.

Sitting there facing the counselor, I knew that if I quit, then I became just like them and I might as well be running, screaming, down the hall from an Eddie hug. But I knew better. I wasn’t going to be that girl. I knew that continuing would be insignificant in the long run, as far as everyone in the school was concerned. Nothing would change. Heather would remain my weekend-friend. I would continue to eat alone and face the taunts of my classmates. But sticking with it was the only solution I could be happy with.

“I changed my mind,” I replied. “I think I’ll stay.”

So, I don't remember the room number. "Retard" was a word kids used. I still find it greatly offensive. I don't remember the names of the Special Education kids, but I do remember what they were like. My descriptions of them are true. Hugging-Eddie is the exception to the name-forgetting, but he wasn't Down Syndrome--I just wanted the connection to Josh for the story. I did get made fun of, but the seat thing didn't happen to me, but there was a certain group who would pretty much shun the people who'd been hugged by Eddie...me and the other Special Friends included. So the one-seat-barrier did exist, it just wasn't as widepread as I made it out to be.

I wasn't what you would call popular, so most people ignored me, anyway, but I did hear whispers quite often about how I did Special Friends (the real name of the program), and when a mean popular kid wanted to put me down, that was the ammunition. I did feel like quitting for a while, but I really did have the realization that I would be letting myself and Josh down by becoming like everyone else. I didn't, however, make this realization in such a dramatic way. It came to me slowly, the more I thought about it.

So I did take some license, but I like how this ended up. I hope you liked it too. I miss you, Joshie! (Photo pilfered from Jill's blog.)

Baby Beardie Update

Over the past three days, the final three eggs of the first clutch have hatched. In all, we had 16 hatchlings, 15 of which are healthy. We had one that had some problems getting out of the egg and survived only a couple of days.

Here's a good picture to show scale:

At the other end of the spectrum, here is a picture of my niece holding Moiraine, the full-grown Mama-Dragon:

And the same neice with one of the hatchlings:

Our fifteen survivors are all doing great! They are eating fruit, veggies, and softened dry pellets, as well as improving their cricket hunting skills. They're also displaying some classic bearded dragon social behavior: Stacking!

They also tend to fight over the peak warm spots on the branch. Eventually, they all get comfortable.

Yesterday, we had one working on coming out of his shell all day. (This isn't unusual. We'd see them pipping when we got up in the morning, but they wouldn't come out of their shells until after we'd gone to bed that night.) For this particular dragon, we'll call him/her "Fifteen," I went to the reptile room around midnight and saw this:

You can see the "umbilical cord" in this picture. It's where the nutrition from the egg yolk enters the dragon's stomach to be metabolized. After they're hatched, they have a small wound there for a few days.

This is where he ended up after getting out and running off. (Those are the eggs from the second clutch--we'll have as many as a dozen hatchlings from that clutch in roughly a month.) I think it's kind of cool that in these pictures, he is next to actual bearded dragon eggs so you can see how much he had to be curled up to fit inside.

I pulled Fifteen out of the incubator and put him in the tank with the others. True to form, I got a lot of baby-beardie-attitude. (I'm extremely proud of this picture, by the way. It's probably the best photo I've taken of anything, ever.)

But after several minutes of trying to scare me away (to see how convincing he was, please refer to the first pictures on this post), he realized that the human being wasn't all that harmful, and we shared a moment before he joined the rest of his siblings. I don't know which one he is now.

So that's our dragon news! Thanks for sharing this adventure with us!

Baby Dragons!

So here are our little Christmas dragons! They started hatching on December 22. You can see some of their heads poking out of the shells in these pictures.

They come out and have quite the attitude. This one had been out for about an hour when I started trying to take some photos with my hand in them for scale. This is how he responded:

The pictures are blurry, but they sure do make me laugh! He started chasing my camera around. Luckily, Al was in the room and I made him grab our other camera to get it on film. (The cat was telling me he needed to be fed.)

These are the pictures I got. Again, blurry but funny!

By the way, the little guy sleeping next to him is fine. He's just sleeping on the under-tank heater and soaking in all the warmth.

Eventually, they mellow out and do some cute things. In the next picture, the branch he's perched on is about as big as my pinky finger:

The food plate in the next two pictures is about four inches in diameter:

These little guys are so stinking cute. If they stayed this size, I'd want to keep them! As it is, we're looking for homes for them. In a pet store, $60 per dragon is reasonable--sometimes they're on sale for $50-$55. We're asking $40 for one or $70 for a pair. If anyone out there knows of anyone who's interested, put us in touch! We want these guys to be well cared for, so we're more than willing to answer any questions, offer advice, whatever.

Because I'm a bit of a purist...

So yesterday was the day...Mama Mia out on dvd! I found it interesting that I was pretty much the only one in my group of friends who went into the movie already knowing the words to the songs. I realize that ABBA was finishing up their career while I was busy discovering my hands and feet, but I still managed to find my way to ABBA Gold and then beyond.

I've made it a bit of a quest to introduce my ignorant friends to the real deal, because even though the Mama Mia soundtrack is a lot of fun, it's still just a bunch of covers, and there's a lot of ABBA still out there to be discovered. So enjoy some originals (and one you may not have heard before):

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

Honey, Honey (with some killer choreography!)

Knowing Me, Knowing You

Our Last Summer

Take a Chance on Me

And if you're still a sucker for covers, you just can't beat Erasure. There's a soft spot in my heart for these guys, since during high school, they were my first introduction to ABBA.

Lay All Your Love On Me

Take a Chance on Me