Birthdaze & Other Ramblings

I'm currently listening to the song from which this blog takes its name. Can I just tell you how much I love Sister Hazel? I LOVE Sister Hazel!!!! They could easily be on the soundtrack of my life. I identify with so many of their songs. They are so inspiring and uplifting. Although, there are several that had I heard them at the time in my life of which they remind me, I'd have committed suicide. OK, probably not . . . but they would not have contributed to the healing of my broken heart at the time. You know how it is, though, when love goes awry and there are those songs out there that mirror your situation so much and you just OD on them. It's not bad enough that someone has just run your soul through the shredder, you've got to FEEL that pain and wallow in every sad song you can find. Like Sir Elton says, "They say so much." I really love Sister Hazel.

I don't know if the site will date this post January 30th or 31st. I started it on the 30th, drew a blank and am resuming it today, January 31st. If it says January 31, 2007, I turned 32 today. I have to say that this is one of the best birthdays I've ever had. All things considered, that's something. My best friend is on the other side of the globe and a lot of people from birthday parties past are scattered across the country. I typically get really depressed on my birthday. I have a good time with my friends, but the party ends, I go home alone and am left with all the thoughts that sometimes plague people on their birthdays: getting older, is my life what I imagined it'd be, will I be alone forever, will I be doing this again next year . . . etc. Well, not this year. Today was a great day. It started off with a phone call from Sarah first thing this morning, which made my morning and set the tone for the whole day. When I arrived at work there was a little cake-shaped sign taped to the entrance that read, "Happy Birthday Ms. Robertson". There was another as I entered the hallway to my classroom (and another taped to the mirror in the Ladies Restroom). When I walked in to my classroom, this is what greeted me:



The whole room was decorated with streamers, balloons and confetti. It was AWESOME! I have the best assistants EVER!!! That lovely surprise was followed by fantastic E-Cards from Sarah and Melinda, phone calls from dear friends (Jenny!) and someone whose voice I recognized, but I'm still not quite sure who it was! If you're reading this, sorry!!!! I even got a call from the car salesman who sold me my Honda two years ago! Word up, Felix! (I don't remember him calling me last year.) We had a party in class, complete with coke and chocolate cake abundant with sprinkles. That's right, I fueled those kids up and then sent them straight home--muwahahahahahahaha! (Told you I was crazy)

Next, it was a night on the town with Amanda and Elizabeth. We had dinner at El Chico--the best tortilla soup anywhere! See?


Elizabeth's Taco Salad really looked like a giant taco!


Pass the salt, Amanda.


Dessert!!! Unfortunately, that's not real whipped cream.


The other unfortunate thing was our server. The poor guy was seriously lacking in enthusiasm for his work. We must have sat for 15 minutes before we got our chips and salsa and then another 5 before we got our water. Then he disappeared for what seemed like eternity. Other patrons found his service frustrating. One group of people at the table next to ours got up and left because he took so long to even come take their order. We actually started to feel bad for the guy. It gave us plenty of time to gab and be silly. There's always a lot of silly at my birthday celebrations. Finally, I opened my presents and then headed for home. I was so excited, though, because I was finally going to have something to post about. And ever since I got my digital camera, I've been snap-happy. I got 3 movies:


And this fantastic card from Faye (she signed John's name to it, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't involved in the selection process):

The inside reads: Aren't you glad we've outgrown wishing for a pony?
Man, I love Faye!

Yes, it was a fantastic day. I don't feel depressed, I'm not pondering my life--I'm just glad to be living it. I'm thankful to be so loved by the people in my life, no matter where they are. In all the years since I've been able to grasp the concept of prayer, I've thanked God for the blessings in my life. This was the first year, though, that I actually thanked Him for giving me life, for letting me be born. In spite of everything I have experienced that I wish could be different, in spite of any regret or painful recollection, I am thankful for my life and that I get to be the one living it. I think the gift I'll be giving myself this year, apart from the two tubes of lip gloss, the metallic writing pens, and the new Sister Hazel album, is to leave the plaguing thoughts to God this year and go to bed happy.

The View from the Top

If you've been following Sarah's blog, you know that she mentioned having difficulties keeping her computer charged. I hate that for her because you really need to be able to connect when you're so far away and pretty much on your own. However, I'm quite selfish and am not thrilled about it for myself. I talk to Sarah in some shape or form every day when she's here, and if I don't I know I can quite easily. Since she's been away, we've still managed to communicate everyday and some times even talk over Skype. The thought of not being able to do so is anxiety-producing for me, and I'm trying to fend off my initial instinct to succumb to that anxiety.

I was praying this morning about these things, and as I did something came to me. I work at a group home on the occasional weekend. My favorite time is bedtime. I love tucking the children in and saying prayers with them. I love hearing their little voices directed towards heaven as they are developing their own communication with the Father. I believe you can learn a lot about a person from listening to him/her pray. When it's my turn to pray, I use it as an opportunity for a number of things. First as a model for prayer, second as model for faith in God's unlimited power and omnipresence, and last as a way to communicate that I care about them no matter what happened between us during the day, albeit indirectly. It's the modeling faith in God's power and omnipresence that came to me as I was praying this morning. A lot of children in care are separated from their families and miss them desperately. I want to impart comfort to them, so this is what I typically say in prayer:

"Father, please be with Sonny and his family. Help him to know that You are watching over him and his family. That he doesn't need to worry about them because You are so big can see them both and are taking care of them all. They are safe in Your hands."

I realized I needed to be applying to God for the same comfort in my own situation. He is all-powerful and He is omnipresent. He can see me and He can see Sarah simultaneously. I know this and I must trust that He is watching over her and that we're going to be alright even if we can't communicate for a while. Realizing that comforts me. He will continue to hear our prayers for one another although we are unable encourage one another daily. Knowing that encourages me.

Writer's block, a Cookie Crisp shortage, & other ires of my existence

I've been having all sorts of epiphanies lately. They've been so staggering that just when I wrap my brain around one, another comes along and flattens me . . . like being struck by the epiphany Mack truck. I wish to expound on these thoughts with you, but my head is so overwhelmed that I can only sit and stare blankly at an even blanker screen or page. Not to worry, though, I'm slowly unraveling them. Rest assured (or be afraid), you'll be sharing in them soon. Needless to say, writer's block, or in this case suffering from mental constipation (you heard me), is the pits. WAH!

There is currently a Cookie Crisp shortage in Lubbock. Upon hearing the threat of heavy snow, some genius or moron went to the new Target and bought up every last box of Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp!!! ARRRGH!!! If you've never tried Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp, you are missing manna from heaven in your life. It is truly a divine cereal experience. It apparently is so rare, though, that I don't recommend you trying it because you won't be able to find it anymore once you're hooked. I've checked WalMart, I've visited a couple Uniteds. It is no where to be found, but by golly, there is plenty of Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp! I settled on ordinary Cookie Crisp because I was so determined to leave the store with a box of sugary cereal, but I'm incensed. There is no substitute. When you want what you want, it is all you want.

It wasn't very nice of Fox to air 4 hours of "24" over two nights and then expect us to subsist on a single episode a week, particularly after I've been OD'ing on the DVD's for the past 6 months. I watched it last night, completely engrossed by the new twists and connections I've made to previous storylines. (Fear not, Sarah, no spoilers here!) Then it was over. I have to wait a whole week to know what will befall Jack in the next hour of his saga. It's a cruel world. By the way, if anyone comments on "24" here and spoils it for Sarah, who is downloading the episodes as they become available, I will go Jack Bauer on you . . . pain, lots of pain!!!

The Dog Days of Winter

Being cooped up this weekend because of the weather, I have been able to spend some quality time with the dogs. Enjoy!

Sophie the Devoted


Addy the Faithful


Sophie the Destroyer


Casualties




Fun in the Snow


Tug-O-War

Be Prepared

Whenever I think of being prepared, two things come to mind: the Sweet Potato Queens and MacGyver. In her book, The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love, Jill Connor Brown devotes an entire chapter to being prepared. (It's a fun book with pearls of Southern wisdom, but I recommend it with caution. If you're easily offended, you probably won't enjoy it. Along with the good stuff and tasty recipes, there is plenty to find offensive. Consider yourself warned.) Then there's MacGyver, and we all know he is the most prepared man in the history of the world, needing only his trusty of Swiss Army knife and a roll of duct tape. After 7 seasons of creative preparedness, you'd think we'd have learned something. Either West Texas has forgotten or missed the message entirely.

If you've been following the weather at all, you know a major cold front has been approaching the South Plains promising sleet, ice, and the heaviest snow in 7 years. We've known about it around here for a few days, but have we been preparing for it? The city road crew might have been, but I'm not so sure about the citizens. In an area where the only thing you can count on is the inconstancy of the weather, you'd think preparedness would be second nature to the folks around here. The truth, though, seems to be that whenever there's the threat of severe winter weather, gas price increase, or Y2K people are stricken with a sudden bout of mania. There was not a generator to be found at the end of 1999 as people prepared for the end of the world. Last night, you could have gone to any grocery store in town and not found a scrap of meat or a single bottle of water; and that was if you could even have gotten into the parking lots. It's like the people of this area have never experienced a heavy snow . . . ever. Granted, it's always good to err on the side of caution, but how much meat do you need to get through a weekend? Do you really need to steal hot dog buns from someone else's shopping cart? I'll admit I picked up some extra water and batteries, and a few toys to occupy the dogs over the next couple of days. As a tribute to "Mac", the father of modern resourcefulness, I have my handy leatherman tool to cut down the trees in the backyard if I end up needing firewood, as I fashion a woodburning stove out of the dumpster in the alley. If things get really bad I can also use it to spear squirrels to sustain me and the dogs while we wait out the famine that apparently is inevitably going to happen. I can even make us lodgings out of the squirrel pelts when the house has been pillaged and burned by looters. There's nothing left in the stores, so you know they'll be hitting residences. I'm also a crack shot with the blowgun that I can make from the PVC pipe in the garage to fend off assailants. Bring it on.

I may be eating crow later when my electricity goes out and my pipes freeze. (You may not be hearing from for a couple of days, so if you live around here come and check on me!) The preparedness question is a legitimate one in my mind as I remember the Great Deluge of 1998 (or '99?). It rained so much that the playa lakes overflowed and a prominent golf course on the south side of town turned into a lake itself. Did anyone see that one coming? If MacGyver had been here, he would have dug another storm drain with his Swiss Army knife and built a damn using duct tape, a paper clip, and piece of chewing gum and saved the back 9th. It may sound far-fetched to you, but that's what I call "prepared".

The World Outside My Door

It's cold out there!!!!

And now it's time for Lisa's Favorite Fun Words!!!

Someone asked me the other day if I had any real passions. That was exactly the way he phrased it. Sounds insulting on the face of it, but I knew he meant "What things really capture your interest?" My response was "books, writing, and internet shopping" (I should be getting a commission from Amazon for my fervor and fierce loyalty). Being an English major, though, you pare it down and subtract the internet shopping and we're just left with words. I love words. I love the versatility of words. They can be evoke powerful emotions of joy, sorrow, anger, or peace. I also like the way certain words sound when I say them. So I present to you now my "Favorite Fun Word List" . . .

Ukulele, muffler, surreptitious, effervescent, jubilation, plethora, ingenue, tempestuous, iridescent, deluge, lugubrious, felicity, malfeasance, clutter, epiphany (no, I didn't forget that one!), salacious, serendipitous (Tim Rush included that word in a note to me once in AIM), carousel, decadent, cacophony, drizzle, buffer, lucid, clairvoyant, calliope, kaleidoscope, trepidation, fleece, poltroon, cahoots, bellicose, befuddled, exuberant, opulent, recalcitrance, perfunctory, penchant, pan-galactic-gargleblaster (I didn't say they were all dictionary words), exacerbate, antipathy, exegesis, paradigm, zephyr . . .

And this is the SHORT list! I know I have tons more written down somewhere, these were just off the top of my head. I hope these words make you look for your dictionary and make you a smarter person for reading them. Start using them daily in sentences and you too can confound people with your hyperintelligent eloquence.

An Epiphany: From the Mouth of Babes

I love the word “epiphany”. It’s on my “Favorite Fun Word” list. Webster has several definitions of epiphany, but I like this one best: an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking. I don’t always like getting epiphanies because they sometimes reveal to me that I’m not doing all I can to be the woman God wants me to be. I’m usually aware of that fact anyway, but it can be staggering when you feel as though God has just told you so.

When I began my career in education, I was a behavior coach with just one student. A 5 year-old boy I’ll call Sonny. What a job, huh? To be responsible for just one little kid, right? Wrong. He was beyond challenging. He threw tantrums like I had never seen a child throw. He screamed, swore, was destructive, and sometimes would carry on until he made himself physically sick. My job was to help him change his behavior. Now Sonny had some health problems that contributed to him throwing fits the way that he did, so I had my work cut out for me. Over time though, Sonny improved. His fits diminished, he could exert more control over himself, and was starting to learn things that his condition had prevented him from doing before. However, one of Sonny’s signature behaviors was the “standoff”. It was a maneuver he would resort to in an effort to control his surroundings a given moment. In a standoff he would be throwing a tantrum while running away. I learned that if I didn’t chase him, he’d come looking for me because he needed to be engaging with me in order to achieve his goal. As long as he could see me, he’d stay put while screaming his head off--”Come to me! Help me stop crying! Talk to me!” If I tried to move closer to him, he’d move away. So I had to get him to come to me instead. What I would do is speak to him calmly and say to him, “When you come to me I will help you.” Then I would wait. Eventually, he would come on his own, we’d process and move on.

He is now 8, and has come a long, long way from where he was before. But every once in a great while he resumes some of his former behaviors. A few months ago, we saw an encore of the standoff. I found myself with him out in the hall, waiting for him to come to me so I could help him. As I sat there waiting and watching him, I had an epiphany. I looked at Sonny and saw myself. Over the past several years, I have wrestled with different issues and have been terribly frustrated over my lot in life. I would ask God, “Why me? Why did you have to give me this affliction? Why don’t You just fix me?” I wanted God to help me, to heal me, and everytime God moved towards me, I moved away while crying and pleading for His help. I wanted it on my terms. What Sonny had to learn was that he needed to take some responsibility in the process of getting his needs met and that was by ending the standoff and submitting himself without force or intervention on my part. In that moment I realized I must do the same thing. God has been waiting patiently to heal me. I must take some responsibility in the healing process and submit myself to Him so that He can. The words of Isaiah 55:8 swept over me, “My ways are not your ways.” In all those pleading prayers, I hadn’t really wanted to do what was required of me to achieve restoration and renewal. I knew that it would be hard and painful and I wanted to skip to the the completion phase. The only way to truly heal, be restored, and find renewal is God’s way. While it is hard and hurts, as all true healing must, He sustains us and provides times of comfort.

It was a hard truth to acknowledge, suddenly there right in front of me. But as I held Sonny in my arms drying his tears and soothing him, I realized the end result would make all the painstaking work worth the effort--to be complete in the arms of my God.

The Red Pepper Conspiracy

In nearly every frozen entrée on the market today there is a universal ingredient.  It occurs almost as often as sodium and preservatives, most notably in “diet” food.  It is the red pepper (bell pepper, to be more precise).  You listen to any Lean Cuisine ad and amongst the list of decadent ingredients listed by the satisfied dieter is “roasted red peppers”.  Now, I have nothing personal against the red pepper, but how many meals must we include them in before we are completely sick of them? I was checking out their nutritional value on the World’s Healthiest Foods website and discovered they provide a plethora of benefits to the body, but does that justify their presence in every brand of lo-cal frozen entree, I purchase?  I think moms are behind it. I think there is a group of mothers from the 50’s and 60’s “Eat your vegetables or no desert” generation that heard about the health benefits of red peppers. So they set up farms in China, Turkey, Spain, Romania, Nigeria, and Mexico (where they’ve been banished since the end of the Cold War) and have been plying the food industry with favors to make sure the future generations eat their vegetables, whether they like it or not. They have seen the push in our society to find shortcuts to health and thought, “A-HA! We’ve got them!” And they mass produce. Kind of sweet, really, if you think about it . . . Sure, these companies are taking advantage of a market that is fighting to be healthy and therefore putting all known vitamin/fiber/anti-oxidant rich veg in their products. But am I getting my RDA of red pepper nutrients when its been parred down to the size of a microchip, processed and frozen? Seems a bit of a stretch to me. And what if I don’t happen like red peppers, fire roasted or otherwise? Giving me abundant choices in entrees that contain red peppers isn’t going to make me eat them. Because, in the immortal words of the incorrigible, flappable Edina Monsoon of the BBC’s Absolutely Fabulous, “I don’t want more choice, I just want nicer things!” . . . or in this case frozen entrees.

My Favorite Things

One of my all time favorite movies is "The Sound of Music". I know all the songs by heart and sometimes I catch myself singing or humming them in the most random moments. I love the song Maria sings to comfort the children during the storm, "My Favorite Things." She trills through a list of her favorite things: rain drops on roses, whiskers on kittens, brown paper packages tied up with strings, and my personal favorite schnitzel with noodle. (I LOVE schnitzel! If you've never had it, you must put it on your "to-do" list. Quite tasty!) I have some favorite things, things that make me smile, my heart race, my toes tingle . . . things that put butterflies in my stomach, a spring in my step, and any other cliche about giddiness that you can imagine.

Gerber daisies, 1000 thread count sheets (heaven on earth!), peanut butter, roadtrips, internet shopping--nothing like coming home to that brown package on the doorstep with the Amazon logo on it, Google, the word "ukelele", real butter, Glasgow City Centre, singing to the radio in the car--I like to sing all parts of the harmony simultaneously, proper British tea, movie trailers--I love it when there are so many that I forget what movie I came to see in the first place, Rosa's Beef Fajita Nachos, Pride and Prejudice, pistachios, toast, double-decker buses, traveling by train, New Mexico sunsets, thunderstorms, the Gospel of John, old fashioned hymns, acappella singing, the smell in floral shops, purses that can hold a book + all the other junk I put in it, singing "Under Pressure" at the top of my lungs (I AM Freddie Mercury), laughing so hard I can barely breathe and tears are streaming down my face . . .

I could probably go on all day. These are just a few of my favorite things. Some seem trite, but I count them all blessings from God (yes, I'm certain God loves me when I taste nachos--He made them just for me). What makes them even more significant to me is that I have gotten to share in most of these things with dear friends. Friends have to be my most favorite blessings. Especially because "Under Pressure" is a duet and requires another voice to get the most enjoyment out of it. So until David Bowie gets back, I'm going to have to sing his part, too, even though it's a terrible strain on the old vocal chords, particularly after hitting that ridiculous high note. (Trust me, I sound ridiculous while hitting it.) I am so thankful for my friends. They love me, laugh with me, cry with me, pray for me, reproach me, sing with me, and help me better understand the nature of God's unending love for me--something I don't always comprehend on either count. That's how I truly know God loves me, He made friends just for me . . . oh, and schnitzel with noodle.

Call me "Crazy"

You know, I always get the phrase, "It takes a really special person to do that" when I tell people what I do for a living (teach Special Ed and work with at-risk children). I usually come back with, "Or crazy." And even if I don't say it, I'm usually thinking it. Because I truly believe you have to be just a little bit nuts to do this job day after day. Some might argue and say, "Well, you really just need to be able to think outside the box." What better way to think outside that proverbial box than to be off your rocker? Seriously. I don't know how I do it everyday. It's exhausting and heart-wrenching, at times, and a person can only take so much of that on a daily basis. Yet I get up every single day and do it all over again and then I go for a super-sized helping of more on the weekends. That's just crazy.

However, in spite of the challenges over the years--the endless paperwork, the aching muscles from hour-long restraints, the scars from being mauled by angry children, the ache I still feel in my cheekbone when the weather gets cold from taking a small child to the face--I do love what I do. I love the kids. Because when they are not in escalated states of violent turbulence, when they're not capable of being certified weapons of mass destruction . . . they are precious! From the constant demands of a precocious redhead to "KISS ME!" to the mock frustration of my longest term student, "Aw, Mih-Leesuh! Aye, yie, yie!" to the interpretive stylings of the dancing sprite, they are most precious.

Today, as I was taking one student through the target sound of the letter 'N' and the proper mouth position for pronouncing it, there was a great moment. I asked him, "How do we make the target sound?" The answer we've been practicing all week is, "I press the tip of my tongue against the roof of my mouth and hum." What proceeded from his mouth instead was, "I put my tongue on my roof and hum." Let's ponder the mental image that conjures for a second . . . if you ever attempt such a thing, I'd really like a picture of it. I don't feel special because I can do what I do. I feel blessed. This work is a blessing. And I have to pray for the strength to do it everyday, which God continually supplies. Do I love it everyday? No. Do I wish I had the gumption to miss my exit one day and keep on driving? Often. But I keep going back. Because whatever it is that God has given me to do this job, I think He mixed in with it just a little bit of crazy.

The First Real Post . . . don't hold your breath

In case you were curious, the title of my blog comes from a favorite Sister Hazel song of mine--one of many. The chorus croons, "Oh, you should see the world inside my head!" I feel that way a lot, but a feeling that closely follows is "Thank God nobody can!"

My best friend left the country today. She is probably at some lofty cruising altitude over the Atlantic by now. Shakespeare wrote "parting is such sweet sorrow" and contextually speaking, I acknowledge its truth. However, in the greater genralization of things, what a CROCK!!! There is nothing sweet about the sorrow that comes with saying goodbye. I knew the moment had to come. I've known about it for months and I have known that it'll only be for a few months, but that doesn't make the parting sweet. It doesn't even make it easier. It just hurts. But in my history of goodbyes I have learned that while the sorrow of parting is neither sweet nor easy, it is not permanent. The tears subside, the heartache diminishes, and I have a choice. I can choose to be sad and cling to that pain or I can choose to embrace each day and the opportunities therein. I choose the latter.

Today was surreal and a bit hard, but not too hard for me to notice an enormous red pick-up truck on enormous tires. I'm talking huge with huge shocks to match. The bottom of the door must be about the height of my shoulder or even slightly above that, and I'm pretty tall. I just think, "Why?" Why would anyone need such a vehicle for everday living? We live on the plains, not in the bayou, for crying out loud. Who needs a vehicle that they have to repel from everytime they want to get out of the thing? I'm pretty sure I know to whom it belonged. As I shopped, I noticed some chaps hanging around the camoflauge/hunting section. I had to resist the temptation to tell them that all the camoflauge in Wal-Mart would not make their ridiculous auto an effective deer blind.

Wow . . .

. . . it's really dark in here!