Bikeride Dilemma

right into the shed
stolen out of garage
biking with bry
right into parked car

Science Makes Some Hurl

I currently sit in Science Classes galore as I try to help others grasp the magnificence and amazement that confronts us daily. There are still moments of "ooooohhhh eewwww gross, disgustingly sick" thoughts and images.

But as I have matured, so has my learning process.  I feel completely blessed to have another go at learning the sciences...it was not always that way...

As a young girl, science scared me. In one experiment alone I can list the reasons why:
     1)  I was extremely shy so coming before the class terrified me.
     2) This was the first male teacher I had known at that point. Men were not the soft, compassionate, understanding, listening how can I help you solve this kind of educator. They were more "face the music, tough beans"  kind of teacher.
     3) I was thrown a book of matches and told to light the gas burner. I was still recovering from the fear of fire and the match that nearly burned down my home.

    4) I was not a great reader abnd all the strange words and definitions presented problems in comprehension and test taking. I was no longer asked to chart the weather, but to memorize the mesozoic era and periodic table of elements...failing was frightening especially because my best friends and sister were 4.0 students.

I survived Elementary Science. Seventh Grade was already terrifying because of the geeky awkwardness of a maturing body.

The Totem Pole of School moved me from top of the Elementary to the bottom of Junior High. Our safe cluster of kids from the neighborhood expanded to many Elementary Schools joined in Junior High.

Seventh Grade Science...I could not tell you a single concept learned. My memory of Seventh Grade Science is overshadowed by one event April Green (name hs been changed to protect the individual that sat behind me in class. We were nearing the end of the year. I had perfect attendance to date in all of my classes. I can still see the room, the teacher, and a few students in my mind. I was face forward trying to glean something from this dreaded subject. Without warning, I hear this strange noise. Within seconds, I felt a warm slap all over my back and heard the class vocalize "eeeewwwww gross." The look on their faces told me the intensity of the grossness and when their fingers pinched their noses...I had to glance to make sense of what had just taken place. Deep in my mind, I already knew. April Green had become sick. April Green hurled all her warm feelings of sickness on to my back. Students were dismissed to the hallway for breathing purposes. April and myself had throw up all over us and didn't quite know what to do. I do not remember particularly how we cleaned up so that Science could continue. I do know April went home.  I easily could have, but perfect attendence was sitting on my shoulder. My mother would have to bring me a change of clothes. Shiney patten leather jackets were in and mine was bright red. I could not have stood out more.

As I walked the halls, my mind quickly added one more reason to despise Science and it would not be the last...

Ms. Washer and Mr. Dryer

Dear Ms. Washer and Mr. Dryer,

You continue to test my confidence as a domestic goddess in the laundry room. Heaven knows, I am trying to do better. After each mistake, I am ready to toss in the towel (not the literal one and not in the wash--the one that yells loud and clear...I give up!) and turn you over to the man of the house. It is clear you favor him. Evidence you say? You want evidence? How far back shall I go?
         *Bleach rather than soap in the blue batch?
         *Rick's sweater vest?
         *Pink garments?
         *Volcanic soap speing out of the machine?
         *Blue garments with navy lace?
         *Rusted spots on favorite white clothing in obvious places?
It takes me a great deal of persuasion just to try to attempt one more load and yet try I do. Just last week as I was unloading the darks, I came across a thick, black, wooly, tight, unrecognizable material. I opened it up for a better view. It was nothing that could possibly belong to any member of my household. I started to wonder if one of Noah's bears had a V-Neck sweater. The moment my mind heard V-Neck, my eyes met up with the sweater tag. It was my favorite, softest, coziest, black cashmere sweater that my sister had given me.

You could have picked on anything...dark socks or towels, old jeans, but no...you went straight for the taking. No one could even believe it was ever mine or ever a women's sweater. Of course I blamed you for your hot temper. Who knew I had to check your TEMPERature guage with each batch of laundry.

Oh and I could go on. Here it is spring break, time away from employment to play catch up with the 80 plus loads of laundry and you, Mr. Dryer, give me the silent treatment...nice...now I have to hang the items to dry.

I guess it took this incident for me to realize that you actually have a soft side. The towels are stiff and scratchy which only serves as a reminder of how much I need you...Please come back.

(Moments later)

Rick found me and asked if I would help him unload the dryer. I do not know what or how it happened. The dryer was on the dolly and Rick at the head. The next thing I knew, I was stumbling back into the wall. The vibration knocked the photographs right off the mantle...and the dryer was rol fell into the wall and watched the dryer roll down the stairs and the pictures shake off the mantle. I was terrified...I thought my cursing at Mr. Dryer was going to result in a broken foot. Rick was frightened and shaking. He never gets scared, which made the accident even more terrifying. Let's call a truce my washer and dryer.

Domestic Goddess in the Making