Something I just have to get off my chest...
So Stuntman brings home some homework the other day - his first foray into the world of research. It seems that the class is studying the Texas Revolution, and each kid is supposed to research a different battle. He brought home a booklet designed for helping the kids take notes: it asks several broad questions, and he's supposed to use at least 3 sources to find answers and then list them. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Okay, here's one of the questions:
"How would you articulate or explain the emotional mindset of the battle's participants?"
Are you kidding me?!?
Now I'll admit that abstract concepts are still on Stuntman's list of "things I don't quite get yet", and maybe there are fourth graders out there that would understand this question, but is there anything inherently wrong with asking, "How do you think the battle's participants felt?" I mostly have no complaints with the teachers at this school; they exceed expectations in many respects, but they seem to have forgotten they are speaking to 10-year-olds on this assignment. Things like this just make me want to growl.
Okay, I've vented. On with the show.
3.05.2008
3.04.2008
we got snow, yes we do...
Today was North Texas' annual Day of Snow. For those of you who do not live in North Texas, the Day of Snow is the one day every year we seem to get a snowstorm. It blows in, dumps a couple of inches on us, blows away, and the snow is gone within a day or two. Some years there are 2 Days of Snow, but one is usually the average. Throughout winter, if there is even the slightest possibility of even a flake, all the local news stations' weather forecasters drop hints about it in teasers on TV, building us all up into a frenzy, until the anticipated day arrives, and it usually turns out to be another 50-degree day with "abundant sunshine".
But not today. The long-awaited storm blew in yesterday evening, snowed on us a good part of the night, and we awoke this morning to a good 2-3 inches covering everything (and a nice 5:52 A.M. phone call from the school district's automated info line, saying that school start times would be delayed for 2 hours). Everyone slept in, ate caramel rolls left over from Daddy's early morning seminary class and Pop-Tarts, then bundled up in coats and extra socks and piled outside. I took the camera out and got plenty of snow angels, snowball targets, snow taste tests and assorted white-blanketed items on digital film. Everyone's hands and feet seemed to reach their saturation point at the same time (one snow day a year is not enough to invest in snow boots or snow gloves for anyone), so after a good hike through all yards that did not yet have footprints in them, we all clamored back inside. Somehow we managed to find extra pairs of shoes and socks for everyone, got the boys off to school, and resumed our day - with the 2-hour delay.
True to its name, the Day of Snow did not take long to wear off - snow began melting as soon as the sun surpassed the rooftops, leaving white patches in the shade, lumpy plops falling from trees, and grassy, sagging snowmen in front yards. This did not, however, stop Miss Bee from picking up icy handfuls from every leftover patch we saw throughout the day and tasting each one. (I drew the line at samples from the sidewalk.) It is wistfully, gloriously over, and it is the perfect amount of snow for this Arizona-born girl: no shoveling, no yearly purchase to replace outgrown snow gear, and all gone in a day. That's about all I can handle.
2.28.2008
the catch
Something that will stick with me....
Today I made a phone call that I thought would "help" someone. A family in a neighboring ward, who lived a block away from us for a time and were one of the first families we met when we moved here, found out last year that their youngest son has an inoperable brain tumor. The past year has been full of ups and downs, sorrows and miracles, as this family has watched their little boy's condition both deteriorate and improve, both by great strides and by the narrowest of margins. The past few weeks have been especially hard, as it seemed that the end may have been near, only to have his symptoms decrease as he entered yet one more period of limbo, his family watching and waiting for whatever will happen next. Throughout this time, we (DH and I) struggle with the desire to help in some way, but are at a loss - we are no longer in the same ward, we don't have as close of contact with the family, none of our abilities seem to be in the realm of what would be useful to them, etc.
This boy's older sister is one of my piano students, and a very enjoyable one at that. I love her personality; it is as unique as her bright red hair is in a sea of blond- and brown-haired kids. She has been a no-show for her last few lessons - understandably, as her family life must adjust constantly to each change in her brother's condition. I decided to call her mother today to let her know that taking a break from piano for awhile would be fine, that she wouldn't have to worry (as if piano lessons were the utmost of her concerns right now) and that she could call whenever she wanted to start up again. In just this smallest of offerings, I thought this would be one way I could "help". I had my words all carefully chosen before I called, and dialed dutifully, only to be greeted with a harried "hello?" on the other end from my student's mother. My composure fell away as I stumbled out some words which I hoped conveyed what I was calling about in a compassionate way, something about "if you want to take a break for awhile, that's okay with me". What I heard next was a brisk, short compliance, obviously in response to ill timing of a phone call, but the part that stood out was the catch in her voice as she said, "Yes, that's fine. Bye." That catch is a sound I cannot get out of my head tonight and probably never will.
http://www.caringbridge.org//visit/peterbarr
Today I made a phone call that I thought would "help" someone. A family in a neighboring ward, who lived a block away from us for a time and were one of the first families we met when we moved here, found out last year that their youngest son has an inoperable brain tumor. The past year has been full of ups and downs, sorrows and miracles, as this family has watched their little boy's condition both deteriorate and improve, both by great strides and by the narrowest of margins. The past few weeks have been especially hard, as it seemed that the end may have been near, only to have his symptoms decrease as he entered yet one more period of limbo, his family watching and waiting for whatever will happen next. Throughout this time, we (DH and I) struggle with the desire to help in some way, but are at a loss - we are no longer in the same ward, we don't have as close of contact with the family, none of our abilities seem to be in the realm of what would be useful to them, etc.
This boy's older sister is one of my piano students, and a very enjoyable one at that. I love her personality; it is as unique as her bright red hair is in a sea of blond- and brown-haired kids. She has been a no-show for her last few lessons - understandably, as her family life must adjust constantly to each change in her brother's condition. I decided to call her mother today to let her know that taking a break from piano for awhile would be fine, that she wouldn't have to worry (as if piano lessons were the utmost of her concerns right now) and that she could call whenever she wanted to start up again. In just this smallest of offerings, I thought this would be one way I could "help". I had my words all carefully chosen before I called, and dialed dutifully, only to be greeted with a harried "hello?" on the other end from my student's mother. My composure fell away as I stumbled out some words which I hoped conveyed what I was calling about in a compassionate way, something about "if you want to take a break for awhile, that's okay with me". What I heard next was a brisk, short compliance, obviously in response to ill timing of a phone call, but the part that stood out was the catch in her voice as she said, "Yes, that's fine. Bye." That catch is a sound I cannot get out of my head tonight and probably never will.
http://www.caringbridge.org//visit/peterbarr
2.24.2008
mission accomplished!
I am writing this entry seated at the table instead of at my usual computer "work station" (standing at the kitchen counter). There is a good reason for this: my knees don't work anymore. Okay, that's in need of rephrasing - my knees work better today than they did yesterday, which was when they didn't work anymore. But the 13.1 miles are run! I successfully crossed the finish line 2 hours, 18 minutes and 57 seconds after I started. Hooray! It was tough - cold, lots of hills, sore knee - but totally worth it. There are a few sights my eyes have witnessed during my whole life that rank highly in my book. Here are some of them: my husband's face when we first kissed as a married couple, each of my kids' faces the first time I held them in my arms, several canyons, Arizona sunsets, snowy mountains and autumn-adorned trees, and the finish line at that race yesterday. DH had told me he wasn't going to be able to come to the race (it was an hour away from home), which I understood. But I secretly hoped he was planning to surprise me, though. Anyway, as I rounded the last corner and the finish line came into view, I was so happy I thought I would cry. And then, from the sidelines, came, "Go, honey! You can do it! Go, Mom! Go!" and I did cry. My line-crossing photo should look interesting.
But it's over! I would like to thank the following: DH and kids, for showing up in the cold; Lisa, my running buddy who stuck with me the entire race; the rest of my running buddies, for getting up early to run with me; the nameless volunteer who gave my family and me a ride to our parking garage after the race (and drove us around for 15 minutes so DH could remember which one he parked in); Jelly Belly Sport Beans, for giving me a much-needed boost at mile 8; and whatever factory made my bed mattress, because that is where I stayed for the rest of the day after I got home. So what is number 1329 out of 2378 total finishers going to do next? Go to bed. Good night.
But it's over! I would like to thank the following: DH and kids, for showing up in the cold; Lisa, my running buddy who stuck with me the entire race; the rest of my running buddies, for getting up early to run with me; the nameless volunteer who gave my family and me a ride to our parking garage after the race (and drove us around for 15 minutes so DH could remember which one he parked in); Jelly Belly Sport Beans, for giving me a much-needed boost at mile 8; and whatever factory made my bed mattress, because that is where I stayed for the rest of the day after I got home. So what is number 1329 out of 2378 total finishers going to do next? Go to bed. Good night.
2.22.2008
the countdown continues...
According to www.cowtownmarathon.org, there are 9 hours, 1 minute, and 48 seconds to go until the Cowtown Marathon/Half-Marathon! From our group there will be 3 of us doing the half and 2 of us doing the full. We are all going out tonight (minus Jenny, a marathoner) with our husbands to carb-load on pasta at Olive Garden, and then home to sleep so we can meet at farggin' 5 o'clock in the A.M to drive to Ft. Worth. Race start time is 7:30. Say a little prayer for us (and our poor legs) tomorrow! See you on the other side!
2.19.2008
chefs for a day
Stuntman got a kids' cookbook for Christmas and has tried a couple of recipes. Last night, he asked if he and Dad could make dinner. Dad and the boys cooked while Mom and Miss Bee went outside for a bike ride (twice around the block). They made beef stew, which is one of the recipes we've made before, and it is SO GOOD that I have to share it. It has to cook for a long time, but believe me, it makes the biggest difference. It cooks down quite a bit, too, so if you think you'll want seconds - and you will - you'll want to double or even triple it, depending on how big your family is. One batch of it gave each of us 1 serving and left us wanting more.
BEEF STEW
(serves 4)
1 T. flour
Salt and pepper
1 1/2 lbs. beef stew meat, cubed
2 small or 1 big onion, chopped (looks like a lot, but it's okay)
3 slices of bacon, chopped
2 T. vegetable oil (divided)
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 3/4 c. beef stock (we made it with Better Than Bouillon and water)
1 T. tomato paste (we've found ketchup works just fine)
1 clove garlic, minced or put through garlic press
2-3 strips of orange peel
1 large pinch Italian seasoning
2 T. parsley, chopped
Dredge beef cubes in flour, salt and pepper. Heat 1 T. of the oil in a large pot (3 qt. or larger) and cook the carrots and onions for a few minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon. Heat the remaining T. of oil in the pot, then add the beef and bacon, cooking until it is lightly browned all over. Return vegetables to the pot. Add tomato paste (or ketchup), garlic, herbs and orange peel and stir. Add the stock and stir again. Cover and cook on low heat for about 2 hours (yes, a long time to wait for such tasty stuff, but your patience will be rewarded) or until the meat is tender. Sprinkle with chopped parsley. Serve with baked or mashed potatoes and a salad or vegetable, and your tummies will thank you.
I think you might also be able to try this in the crock pot - just cook the veggies, brown the meat, then put them in a crock pot with the rest of the ingredients. I'll have to try it sometime. Let me know what you think!
BEEF STEW
(serves 4)
1 T. flour
Salt and pepper
1 1/2 lbs. beef stew meat, cubed
2 small or 1 big onion, chopped (looks like a lot, but it's okay)
3 slices of bacon, chopped
2 T. vegetable oil (divided)
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 3/4 c. beef stock (we made it with Better Than Bouillon and water)
1 T. tomato paste (we've found ketchup works just fine)
1 clove garlic, minced or put through garlic press
2-3 strips of orange peel
1 large pinch Italian seasoning
2 T. parsley, chopped
Dredge beef cubes in flour, salt and pepper. Heat 1 T. of the oil in a large pot (3 qt. or larger) and cook the carrots and onions for a few minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon. Heat the remaining T. of oil in the pot, then add the beef and bacon, cooking until it is lightly browned all over. Return vegetables to the pot. Add tomato paste (or ketchup), garlic, herbs and orange peel and stir. Add the stock and stir again. Cover and cook on low heat for about 2 hours (yes, a long time to wait for such tasty stuff, but your patience will be rewarded) or until the meat is tender. Sprinkle with chopped parsley. Serve with baked or mashed potatoes and a salad or vegetable, and your tummies will thank you.
I think you might also be able to try this in the crock pot - just cook the veggies, brown the meat, then put them in a crock pot with the rest of the ingredients. I'll have to try it sometime. Let me know what you think!
2.18.2008
countdown to cowtown
The Cowtown Half/Full Marathon is this Saturday, and this girl is running the half. This girl (I don't feel too old to use that word) hated P.E. K-12, put off her P.E. credit in high school until her senior year, never did sports or anything remotely athletic (unless you count marching band) in her life, and she is running a half marathon on Saturday. Sounds a bit dotty, doesn't it? Well, I'll know exactly how dotty when I scrape myself over the finish line in 5 days.
I started running with some friends back in April, purely for social reasons. One might say I'm doing this race for the same reasons, since I've acquired pains in places I've never felt pain before - I couldn't be doing it because I enjoy it, could I? Well...there is something to be said for being outside, hot or cold, sunny or foggy (no, we're not the kind that run in the rain), having some "mommy" time. It's a good feeling when you're out there and you pass another runner who gives you a "good morning" or a "hi" as you lope by, and even if you're only on mile 4 of an 8-mile run and you've just begun the ascent of that confounded hill you hit on your loop every dang Saturday, that little greeting can give you enough of a feeling of belonging to a group - the group that gets up early to run - to push through the rest of your run. Or at least the next half-mile, until another one "good-morning"s you.
So we'll see how it goes! Five days to go!
I started running with some friends back in April, purely for social reasons. One might say I'm doing this race for the same reasons, since I've acquired pains in places I've never felt pain before - I couldn't be doing it because I enjoy it, could I? Well...there is something to be said for being outside, hot or cold, sunny or foggy (no, we're not the kind that run in the rain), having some "mommy" time. It's a good feeling when you're out there and you pass another runner who gives you a "good morning" or a "hi" as you lope by, and even if you're only on mile 4 of an 8-mile run and you've just begun the ascent of that confounded hill you hit on your loop every dang Saturday, that little greeting can give you enough of a feeling of belonging to a group - the group that gets up early to run - to push through the rest of your run. Or at least the next half-mile, until another one "good-morning"s you.
So we'll see how it goes! Five days to go!
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