Eat Crow

I remember a day in college when my self esteem was put into question. I was determined to fight the self defeating thoughts that could keep me in a dark depression. I knew I had been blessed, but I did not seem to possess the obvious talents that my sister and roommates did. I had not captured the eye of Mr. Right nor did I have a clear decision on my major.

I had one more class to complete before I could return to my apartment to ponder on my dilemma. I had been studying in the library. I was well aware of my surroundings. At the foot of the stairs, I could see that someone had plugged in the vacuum and would proceed to clean where some of the hotties would hang out. There was the campus God, Jeff Buehner.

I was wearing heels. My mind knew that now would be the time to make a decent impression on one particular gentleman. My thoughts were surveying the surroundings....vacuum cord, high heels, cute boy, possible trip on the cord..."This is easy just walk calmly and step over the cord gracefully." Just as I lifted my delicate foot, Mr. Vacuum pressed forward elevating the cord. My leg did not clear and grace did not eventuate.

I pulled myself together quickly. "It's okay. Maybe you can pretend you meant to do that??? Come on Bec...do not let it get you down...heck, you had the vacuum cord to do that."

French and Monsieur Slade was my next hurdle. Let's just say I was not a natural in Francais. It took a great deal of effort even for the basics. We were assigned to groups. Each group would organize a conversation to share with the class. In my group, I had one girl who was tearing up old checks and going through her purse. She clearly had no interest in contributing. The other was busy planning her wedding. I pretty much had to rely on my own skills. The frustration of the day began to take it's toll. I pretended politeness as I told the girls how our conversation would go down...and go down it did.

Desks were arranged in a circle with Monsieurr Slade at the head. These particular desks were the kind that had legs on the chair only. My group was the last to go. By now, classmates began to whisper. Monsieur Slade glanced our way and gave a nod. That was our signal to go. I produced my very best pretend French accent. I felt relieved to have this task behind me. Upon completion of our dialogue, Monsieur appeared to still be waiting. He asked if we were ready to proceed. The expression on my face spoke loud and clear..."Oh my gosh, we performed and no one heard a single word." Miss French Sassy pants was going to let them all know that they had missed out.  With a firmness, I leaned  forward in disgust. The words had barely left my mouth when I realized my desk was also in a forward motion. My hands were in my lap. There were no legs below the desk portion to balance my unsteadiness... There was nothing to brace my fall. One of the boys to the right could see that I was heading for disaster. All my papers spewed to the center of the circle just in time to catch everyone's attention. The gentleman reached for the back of my chair, in hopes of pulling me back to an upright position. Maybe it was the momentum of my _____attitude. Whatever the case, he had only enough strength to hold me suspended on the two front legs of the chair...nose one inch from the floor. I do not know how much time passed...it seemed like forever. I had a significant amount of time to hear the laughter of the class...ample amount of time to  feel the heat of my embarrassment and relive the awkwardness of previous events of the day and with time remaining to wonder how long before someone would pull me back to a normal position.

I have no recollection of anything after that moment until my walk home. I avoided the library for fear of future disasters. I kept my head down and avoided crowded walkways. The self talk in my head was now screaming. I began to question how I ever was accepted into college. I began to wonder if there was even a purpose for my being.

It was springtime. The air was full of life. Beautiful blossoms were on the trees. Birds were chirping incessantly. Yet my spirits refuse to acknowledge to breathe it in today. Instead, my focus had shifted to the crows who seemed to be following me home. It was a curious thing that these black crows would gather year after year by the number. I was intrigued by them. It seems as if they would find a new spot on campus until one day... they were just gone.

Today they were hovering in the trees by the ramp. It was a tad bit spooky as I had chosen to walk home alone. I had just entered the ramp leading down to Ben Dick Arms. Without further thought, I felt a big plop on my arm and then another. I had just been dumped on by the crows. That was enough to send me into a rampage. I verbalized..."Are you kidding me???...What else could go wrong?" "Plop" right ont the top of my head. In that moment, I learned to not ask what else could go wrong...because someone or something is just waiting to show you.

I fought tears when I entered my apartment. I was glad no one was home. I took to the bathroom to wipe off crow droppings when the phone rang. It was my dear sweet mother...a woman of class. I would reveal the details of my day in exchange for her pity and sympathy. I did not get it. Not form her. Not from the crows and not even from Monsieur Slade. She laughed and the smile in her voice put a glimpse of hope in my heart. My mother then said something to become profound in later years..."Maybe your purpose is to help others feel better about themselves." At the time, it was not funny. As life has unfolded and interesting things have happened, I have come to embrace my somewhat of a maybe potential purpose in life.

So that day, I ate CROW in hopes that one day I could bring laughter to another.

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

Poop Squad Real Life Math Application

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The Big Bang Theory

When I hear someone say "The Big Bang Theory," my mind goes to a couple of places...

1) The scientific one which I am not a fan of other than how it may have appeared to look according to google images...matter unorganized.

big bang theory n. A cosmological theory holding that the universe originated approximately 20 billion years ago from the violent explosion of a very small agglomeration of matter of extremely high density and temperature.

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009. Published byHoughton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

(from a religious point of view, it looks like unorganized matter which the creator may have used???)

2) Then there is the big bang theory television sitcom...BAZINGA which I am more than a fan of for a variety of reasons:

Leonard, Raj, Howard...

Sheldon and "Penny knock knock, Penny knock knock, Penny knock knock." I adore each character and the personalities they possess, but that is a whole different entry.

3) The big bang in which I am referring to was the one that made it's debut in the late eighties, early ninties atop some young woman's head. It was an artform that required tools...hot curling iron, hair comb and mass amounts of hairspray. It was so difficult for my type of hair (a quantity of soft, fine, stick straight hair. The perm did not help my big bang matter either other than it became the matter unorganized mentioned in the first big bang theory) that my big bang fell forward covering the upper half of my face. The big bang also became known as "West Valley" or "Valley Girl"look. It is my opinion that much of the damage to the ozone layer was due to achieving this desired look. Reflecting causes me to accept the belief that our minds can play tricks on us. How in the world did I ever envy this wall of bangs, and yet, envy I did. New styles come and new styles go. Thankfully this one went, but there were some that held onto these bangs like they were going out of style. (They were.)

(The above photos were pulled off google images. I needed a picture to help readers understand the humor in this story.)

I was a 6th grade educator at the time. Sixth grade is a particularly difficult time for most. The 6th grade human body is transforming the child to an adolescent. The emotional state wants to be independently grown up while still clinging to the little girl depending on parents to care for her. Cliques are formed. The opposite sex has somehow lost the cooties to the flirties. The appearance becomes top priority during the body's low priority development of acne, body hair, odor, voice change etc. Unfortunately, these changes are more visible in young women than in young men. I remember the completely undescribable awkwardness that I felt in my 6th-8th grade years!

One young woman approached me in tears. She was beside herself and I could not understand why, She was smart, adorable, well groomed, popular, always dressed fashionably and so I asked where those tears were coming from. Apparently, the other girls in her circle of friends had given her the boot because she had worn her hair the same way two days in a row. Some may question the reality of something that seems to be so trivial, but I lived this shame in the area of clothing I selected.

(Briefly, as Jr High and High School Students, my circle of friends scheduled the week to be Monday and Wednesday were "nice pants day." Tuesday and Thursday were "dress day." Friday was "levi's day." This was the rule that we fervently abided by. Once in a while there would be an extra curricular activity that would require a switch in apparel. The person would then let the others know of the change in the schedule. If per chance the word did not get around, it was grounds for the silent treatment from the one left out of the loop and utter terror for the others, "Oh crap...didn't you tell her?"
"I thouhgt you were going to tell her..." It was serious and usually meant conjuring up the lamest excuses as to why the one, was not in form.)

The pressures for girls was intense. Now take that and multiply it by 5,000 if you are the new girl, you are shy, and you have developed into a young woman before the rest of your peers.

I had been notified that a new family had moved into the school boundaries. The mother and two girls came to introduce themselves to me. One girl looked too small for the 6th grade and the other looked to be at least sixteen years old, so I let mom take the lead. The shallowness in me was looking at the one woman's perfectly mastered tall, straight up bangs. The profile view barely revealed one row of hair. I could see that this girl would rather be anywhere other than here. My heart felt compassion for her and I hoped that the upcoming experience in her new school would be a positive one. The 16 year old look alike was really 12 years old and I was the one that would be the master of creating a positive and safe environment for her. I found a seat for her. The class welcomed her and then we went about business. I hoped the new awkwardness would fade for all of us.

There were a few boys that endeared me with their wit and charm. One young boy was behind the new girl. We were having an intense math discussion and I was put out that he was not paying attention to me, so I called on him to answer the question. Maybe I could redirect his attention. "Can you tell me if this is the correct answer?" He shrugged his shoulder apathetically. That bothered me even more and so I took it upon myself to scold him for not having his eyes and attention on me. In a very serious and somber manner he replied, "I am sorry Miss Hart, but I can't see anything over (blah blah's) tall bangs."
A range of emotions spiraled through my body...devastation and complete embarrassment for our new student, shocked at his response, mystified at what my own response would be, stifled laughter at his truth.( I have had to move seats in a movie theatre before because of the overpermed hair of a patron that sat down in front of me.) As I continued to look at his facial expression, I felt laughter rushing up my throat, like lava spewing out of a volcano, like soap suds growing out of my washing machine. I turned towards the board and started erasing for fear I would not be able to fight the smile that prefaces the unbearable laughter.

Then with a firm tone, still facing the board, I said, "THEN MOVE!" I hoped with all my might that the sound of my voice and the words I spoke would change the grimace on my face. I waited for the awkward moment to pass. I held still until I had regained complete composure. I remained nose to the chalkboard (I think the awkward moment was now with Miss Hart--"what the heck is she doing?" kind of thing) until I felt safe to face my students and resume math which felt about an hour in humiliation's time frame. "Now class...let me show how to arrive at the correct answer..."

Once in a great while, I will come across a "big bang moment." With a smile on my face, I will think back to the wonderful moments and memories I had with these children. There are other moments when I look back on old photos and wonder what descriptive phrases went through the minds of others when they observed the hairdo I was sporting...

Volcanic Laundry

After Rick had washed, dried, folded, and ironed 10 plus loads of laundry, I thought I would contribute to the household duties. I had spent so much time trying to complete unfinished projects that the family laundry had risen beyond a normal load or basketful of laundry. (I felt overwhelming grateful and guilty at the same time.)

I placed the white items in our frontload washer. I made sure this batch was only white (referring to another post). I made doubly sure that I did not put anything in that mass of clothing that was bound to shrink (also referring to another post). I was absolutely sure to use laundry soap rather than bleach (once again, referring to another post). I measured the soap while the dialogue check list bombarded my thoughts..."hmmm there doesn't seem to be enough soap...oh well, it is a small enough load...I am sure it will be clean in the hot water and at the least, give the items a fragrant scent (you know, the one that you see on all the commercials)."

Then off to my other tasks: organizing the projects, scanning photos, filing bills and Noah's school work and yatta yatta yatta...I was rather pleased with my multi tasking.

Noah, passed by the laundry room exclaimed,

"Mom, why are there white bubbles coming out of the washer?"

In a questioning tone and completely bambazzled I replied, "What?"

He reapeated, "There are bubbles coming out of the washing machine."

Immediately, a Brady Bunch episode came into focus. Bobby Brady did not want to get in trouble for soiled clothing and so he attempted to do the laundry in order to hide the mishap. Unexperienced, Bobby put too much soap into the machine, when he returned to check on his clothing, it had been overtaken by lava monsters of soap. As I rounded the corner, I saw the bubbles spewing out of our machine like a science experiment gone bad.

I pulled down the washer door to see white rolling magma...I mean soap (and me)... just ready to explode. "Unbelievable!!! When will I get this right?" I stopped the washer, 

wiped up the bubbles on the floor and went to dinner wth my family. I had hoped that the foaming, froth would go away while I was gone.

Naturally, the one negative event caused the numerous positive events to suffer...I had to produce a total mind shift as I was determined not to let it ruin my evening. I laughed instead because I knew one day it would be funny.

I guess I will be doing more laundry...
This image and quote posted on facebook informed me, I still have a great deal more to learn.