tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-112535042024-02-28T10:38:15.900-06:00Epiphany Mama"Once in a while you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right"susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-72337589032240005852010-06-28T10:53:00.005-05:002010-06-28T10:59:13.826-05:00The new gardenThese are my baby plants! Yes, I know the garden looks dry. I watered it after I took the pictures. :) This is a little cucumber plant.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsNk2ij327E1OOUhMlosDffo4vWzKNN3tIJ2iI76pmY8WABs1iJDAe5DVnT5g9KdTffh43trRw6bbOq4s4jdHNoQPnEQrvMyGYVqw5gnK9L3WiWYjq8OUJ4F_1ZFdOCNgJECR3w/s1600/garden102.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsNk2ij327E1OOUhMlosDffo4vWzKNN3tIJ2iI76pmY8WABs1iJDAe5DVnT5g9KdTffh43trRw6bbOq4s4jdHNoQPnEQrvMyGYVqw5gnK9L3WiWYjq8OUJ4F_1ZFdOCNgJECR3w/s320/garden102.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487853386773069042" border="0" /></a><br />Here are some squash plants. They are either acorn squash or zucchini. My marker blew away when it stormed this weekend.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YE-EYaDF_iZLBh6sUZO_Nhdzq6z0CA_GIBM_vE9z_Rcy8_ObzFKE1ASWsqolxE1jqKyxkbF2tGcflEA5PL9k7F8GoDKktJ1J-B5CZFSefCjiLFcWQiRgUwBrb-SuZRuzNau9qQ/s1600/garden103.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YE-EYaDF_iZLBh6sUZO_Nhdzq6z0CA_GIBM_vE9z_Rcy8_ObzFKE1ASWsqolxE1jqKyxkbF2tGcflEA5PL9k7F8GoDKktJ1J-B5CZFSefCjiLFcWQiRgUwBrb-SuZRuzNau9qQ/s320/garden103.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487853678111053634" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These are definitely little zucchini plants. They are getting big fast!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW7dmu8hrxus8lAD_qlBo8P0Qeyz-V8Lc3xWZ4oDQhfv5tApQO1ZZw6va3FqLSPJ8jlSfGEzV3wGMKrRie_4q__YNRSDxCejPSMCQXNBwYs0KTO5iGMwVzRAtjXWQU8PX0YX5iw/s1600/garden104.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW7dmu8hrxus8lAD_qlBo8P0Qeyz-V8Lc3xWZ4oDQhfv5tApQO1ZZw6va3FqLSPJ8jlSfGEzV3wGMKrRie_4q__YNRSDxCejPSMCQXNBwYs0KTO5iGMwVzRAtjXWQU8PX0YX5iw/s320/garden104.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487853806184757522" border="0" /></a>susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-42753979656792616712010-06-28T10:51:00.002-05:002010-06-28T10:53:06.888-05:00Quincy Graduated Preschool!!Look how big he is!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf96X7WJ_yjvfM5pIbjUfIx_pxATBZj-FsCweHY1qKWr2L2r_v4bP7sK27lgEOYFBRG89SckhlMA5uBLa25T8kndOpZSiF5b6VSCBwBj-H__F9TkSg1DNAxKYINr2XN6lodbp-5Q/s1600/qgraduation.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf96X7WJ_yjvfM5pIbjUfIx_pxATBZj-FsCweHY1qKWr2L2r_v4bP7sK27lgEOYFBRG89SckhlMA5uBLa25T8kndOpZSiF5b6VSCBwBj-H__F9TkSg1DNAxKYINr2XN6lodbp-5Q/s320/qgraduation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487852985825336578" border="0" /></a>susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-32082916147429729162010-03-07T23:42:00.002-06:002010-03-07T23:56:38.090-06:00*sigh*After watching two hours of sappy television, I am reminded that relationships are hard. They take work. They don't just miraculously maintain themselves and stay all happy and emotionally healthy. I don't expect sunshine and rainbows and roses all the time. That's not realistic. Perky and smiley once in a while would suffice. It gets old being the only perky one in a relationship.<br /><br />Also, I have a slight self-destructive streak. I tend to destroy things when they get good. I also have a history of dating people of questionable psychological well-being. Okay, I lived with a psychopath for the better part of a year. It was not a good year.<br /><br />With all of that, I wonder how anyone is ever certain that the person you love will be around in 30 years. Or even that the person you love is the person you should love. The person who is best for you and are you the best person for them? I mean, how do you know? All through school, I was taught to show my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">evidence</span> and support my position with facts, but how do you do that with a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">marriage</span>?<br /><br />Why is the grass always greener??? Where is this all coming from?? Am I supposed to spend my life questioning my relationship? or should I just have faith that all is well and not worry so much?susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-78869151617722791872010-03-04T11:46:00.002-06:002010-03-04T11:59:16.086-06:00HiatusI took a long hiatus from writing here. Working as much as I was doing combined with holiday stress and illness to exhaust me.<br /><br />I've been writing....just not here. I write a lot of lists. :) Grocery lists. Things to do lists. Lists of school systems that are hiring and aren't thousands of miles away from here. I found a few of those by the way and will hopefully be getting some interviews this spring.<br /><br />I make lists of all the weird things Quincy does. He's started singing songs he hears in the car. He goes crazy when I don't let him pick his own breakfast. He hates to have a toy taken away. Turning off the radio in the car will make him immediately stop whatever annoying this he's doing (last night it was playing with the window). Getting in the tub makes him want to take a bath. See, he's an interesting little boy. He sings Plain White T's, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Outkast</span>, and Presidents of the United States of America. He asks me to turn on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Relient</span> K in the car.<br /><br />He asks me every other day to take him to big boy school (kindergarten). He keeps telling me that he plans to learn things all of his life. At five, he has hopes and dreams. He has fantasies about what kind of career he will have (policeman), what kind of cars he will own, where he will live, who he will marry, and how many children he will have. He can articulate these future plans clearly. At five.<br /><br />I can't tell you my future plans clearly and I am way past five. What do I want to be when I grow up? Where do I want to be? Good questions. I have only vague answers.<br /><br />I took a recess from writing, but not one from thinking.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-81989594286240223772009-12-24T19:28:00.002-06:002009-12-24T19:34:34.661-06:00Merry ChristmasWe've been busy around here all month trying to get ready for the holidays. Quincy found the time to do this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcodzcF5zwPi7lSjYuyWQLiAsQHZz9w-djmtIbw2g02Z1lWJyUYOOCixy_k_z-maFt_r716gc4AUXX7GbxBc84WXWIHaZ5CrFJU5QxFVVriopTkTPGjYYecg2Yw895ZqGArjh-Pg/s1600-h/xmasquincy.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcodzcF5zwPi7lSjYuyWQLiAsQHZz9w-djmtIbw2g02Z1lWJyUYOOCixy_k_z-maFt_r716gc4AUXX7GbxBc84WXWIHaZ5CrFJU5QxFVVriopTkTPGjYYecg2Yw895ZqGArjh-Pg/s320/xmasquincy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418980151906612018" border="0" /></a>susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-26889854285600189632009-12-02T21:51:00.002-06:002009-12-02T22:08:35.131-06:00Currently, There are No Jobs.That's what the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Subfinder</span> system says. It's the thing I go through to get sub jobs so I can have money to pay my student loan payment. More often than not, I hear that sentence above.<br /><br />As a sub, I am required to work 5 days a month to remain active and able to sign up for jobs. My goal is to work 10 days. That's only 2.5 days a week and you would think it'd be easy to do, but no. Last month, I worked 5.5 days and that was hard to do. I had to go to a school I never go to because it's the most urban of the schools around here. They have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">lockdowns</span> there regularly due to gang activity and fights. Nothing happened when I was there, but still, it was a stressful day.<br /><br />Speaking of stress, I am constantly worried about making my student loan payments. I never know if there will be sub jobs from one day to the next. My student loan payments each month are figured based on a loan consolidation that I did a while back. My husband has discovered a new way to consolidate through my loan provider so I am filling out the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">paperwork</span> for that if I do stay home tomorrow. It's based on income and I would basically be paying $200 a month. That equals out to about 4 days of subbing a month and much less worry.<br /><br />One problem with subbing is that I already work 35-40 hours at my full-time job so, even though I know I need to work about 3 days a week, I don't want to. I just got home from work about 9 p.m. tonight and that's about average. About once a week, I work later one night. That makes me really not want to get up at 6 a.m. to go to a school.<br /><br />This is also the last year that Quincy will be home during the day. Next year, he'll be at Kindergarten. *sigh* My baby! in school! every day! I have set a goal to find a job during school hours only by the time he starts next August. Considering how many times I have sent out my resume recently, I am hoping that is doable. There seem to be a lot of jobs around here, but there are also tons of applicants for every position. I try to apply <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">for</span> the ones that say minimal applicants.<br /><br />Well, it's time to go check <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Subfinder</span> again.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-20416860393821769502009-11-08T21:06:00.003-06:002009-11-08T21:16:03.500-06:00Biting My NailsI am pretty much shaking with anxiety tonight. Two things are making me that way.<br /><br />One--Quincy threw-up late last night, but has been fine since. It was pretty traumatic for me to get woken up out of a deep sleep <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">by</span> the mess I had to clean up. I'm sure it was hard on him, too. He stayed up for 2 hours, watched <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">TV</span>, and then went right back to sleep. Too good to be true, right? I thought so, too. Then, he played all day and was full of energy. Now, he's asleep. He fell asleep around 8:15, just like last night. I'm hoping we don't have a repeat.<br /><br />Two--I am subbing tomorrow. Normally, that wouldn't make me nervous. Sometimes I am little apprehensive if it's a subject I've never subbed for before, but that's about the only time I get like that. I was a little worried about Friday when I subbed for a Driver's Ed teacher. Turned out, I had no reason to worry. It was a fun day. Tomorrow, though, I am subbing for a Boy's Wellness teacher. Now, that just means gym, but still, I have no idea what I'll be doing, but I bet I won't be showing a movie all day. I'm not even sure I'll be in a class room!<br /><br />I'm going to try to relax because I have to get up really early tomorrow. I'll probably post about how the day went later this week.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-79202510056470527162009-10-20T22:35:00.002-05:002009-10-20T22:48:18.751-05:00Plain and Simple NeglectThe last few weeks flew by. First, there was Fall Break, when I planned on getting lots of stuff done, but did nothing. Then, there was last week, which was a repeat of Fall Break. So far, I've managed to get the grocery shopping done this week, but that's about all. In my defense, I came down with some mystery illness last Friday morning and still don't feel totally like myself.<br /><br />Anyway, that's why I haven't written anything. Well, that, and I spend too much time on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span>.<br /><br />I am going through some kind of what-if phase. Like what if I'd done this instead of that when I was 25 and so on. It is pointless, because I always arrive at the conclusion that, yes, life would be different, but I wouldn't have Quincy. I might have other children, but none would be him.<br /><br />Then, there's the what if <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">something</span> happened and it was just me and Quincy tomorrow. Would I be able to support us with my current jobs? (No. We would have to move.) Where? Who would keep him while I worked? I get all tense thinking that way. I should stop.<br /><br />Maybe this is some sort of midlife crisis kind of thing or maybe it's just my own neurosis coming through. I don't know.<br /><br />I do know that a topic of argument <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">around</span> here has been how much my husband has to work to pay bills and how much he hates that. If I made more money, I wouldn't have to listen to it every month. That's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">probably</span> a huge <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">source</span> of these scenarios that my mind creates.<br /><br />I spent far too much time daydreaming about change and far too little making any.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-13897879904882485662009-09-27T21:20:00.005-05:002009-09-28T21:06:30.563-05:00TidbitsI don't have any really unified thoughts that would make a good long post so this will be a bulleted one.<br /><br /><ul><li>These last few weeks have been fairly uneventful as far as subbing goes. I've subbed for the same teacher several times so his kids are used to me and I know their names. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nothing</span> really exciting there.</li></ul><ul><li>Tuesday night, there was a job at the high school that is closest to my house so I signed up for it as soon as I saw it. I must not have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">looked</span> too closely because I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">went</span> there Wednesday morning thinking it was just a job for that day. When I got there, there was a note on the desk thanking me for subbing for the next three days! I called home and had my husband check and, yes, it was for three days. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ooops</span>. I am still tired from that.</li></ul><ul><li>Speaking of my husband, we are stuck in the discussion about whether to try for another baby. I finally decided that I'd like to, but he thinks that another baby would "ruin his life." So if I were to get pregnant, he would hate me. It's a circular fight and one that I hope we resolve soon.</li></ul><ul><li>Quincy went on his first trip out of town with my husband but without me this weekend. He went to Oak Ridge, TN to visit his grandmother and great-grandparents. I think he had a good time. When he was ready to come home on Saturday afternoon, he <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">went</span> out and got in the car without saying bye. He must have thought that it was time to go.</li></ul><ul><li>While he was in Oak Ridge, he got up very early, like 6 a.m. early. This morning, he woke up around 6:45. I am hoping this doesn't happen again tomorrow.</li></ul><ul><li>I am currently obsessed with The Gourds. I have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">listened</span> to their version of "Gin and Juice" at least three times today. It's a bluegrass version done with some mandolin. I love it!<br /></li></ul>susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-51659579820917567782009-09-16T14:10:00.013-05:002009-09-18T22:31:47.123-05:00In MemoriamI've been reading Tennyson and various other poets thinking about the recent death of my old friend Kris <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bristow</span> and the death two years ago of Craig <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Duvelius</span>. Kris died from a sudden illness and Craig from an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">accidental</span> overdose. I was reading <span style="font-style: italic;">Howl </span>earlier and was struck by the first few lines of one of my favorite poems of all time.<br /><br />Excerpt from <span style="font-style: italic;">Howl </span>by Allen Ginsberg:<br /><br /><p><i>For Carl Solomon</i></p> <pre>I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,<br />starving hysterical naked,<br />dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking<br />for an angry fix,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">angelheaded</span> hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly<br />connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,<br />who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking<br />in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating<br />across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,<br />who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw<br />Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,<br />who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes<br />hallucinating <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Arkan</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sas</span> and Blake-light tragedy among the<br />scholars of war,<br />who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing<br />obscene odes on the windows of the skull,<br />......<br />incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in<br />the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating<br />all the mo<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tionless</span> world of Time between,<br />Peyote <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">solidities</span> of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns,<br />wine drunk<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">enness</span> over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><br />teahead</span> joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and<br />tree vibrations in the roaring winter <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">dusks</span> of Brooklyn, ashcan<br />rantings and kind king light of mind,<br />......<br />who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar<br />to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Bellevue</span> to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,<br />a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping<br />down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills of Empire<br />State out of the moon,<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">yacketayakking</span> screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories<br />and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails<br />and wars,<br />whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and<br />nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the<br />pavement,<br />who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of<br />ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,<br /><br />_______________________________________________________________________________<br /><br />As you know, the poem itself is very long. Certain lines just strike me today.<br />Like these:<br /><br />who drove <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">crosscountry</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">seventytwo</span> hours to find out if I had a<br />vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,<br />who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to<br />Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><br />loned</span> in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, &<br />now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,<br />who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each<br />other's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">salva</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">tion</span> and light and breasts, until the soul<br />illuminated its hair for a second,<br /><br />________________________________________________________________________________<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Obviously</span>, the Denver lines are about Neal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Cassady</span>. He's one of my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">favorites</span> also.<br /><br /><br /></pre>susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-51340772346119352722009-09-04T21:50:00.002-05:002009-09-04T22:03:39.655-05:00This Week's AdventureI substitute taught two and a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">half</span> days this week, which is so far my record this year. Sometimes there aren't any jobs. Sometimes I have lots of stuff to do and can't get to any schools. There are ALWAYS tons of jobs on the days when I have a million things to do. Why is that?<br /><br />Monday was an awesome sub day. I had Sophomores in an English class at a school that is only about 20 minutes from here. The kids were pretty good and the teacher had two inclusion classes so I had help some of the day. The only thing that I didn't like was that it was one of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">those</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">days</span> where the teacher had left me a movie to start each class on. That means that all five classes watched the first 50 or so minutes of the same movie all day long. I rented the movie tonight so I can see something beyond the first half.<br /><br />On Tuesday, I subbed at the school I used to teach at. I always expect that to be a negative experience, but it hasn't been so far. People I wasn't even friends with when I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">taught</span> there are nice to me. It's kind of weird. Anyway, this was a Sophomore English class, too and she also had two inclusion classes. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">difference</span> was that she only had three English classes and the other two were Yearbook. The Yearbook classes are pretty much self-sufficient so that was fun.<br /><br />On Wednesday, I subbed at the middle school directly behind our house. I had to be there at 7:05 a.m. because the teacher had bus duty. It was a five minute commute maybe. I loved that! I subbed for a Chorus/Music class. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">only</span> had two classes really and, while they were harder to deal with than the high school students, it was still a good day. These were 8<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">th</span> grade classes <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">mostly</span> and they just did not want to get quiet. The half class that I had were 7<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">th</span> graders and they were great kids. I usually like 7<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">th</span> grade better than 8<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">th</span> so it didn't <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">surprise</span> me any.<br /><br />That was my week minus the dental experience. I hope next week is just as good!susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-77608875443330410302009-09-02T18:06:00.002-05:002009-09-02T18:17:10.278-05:00The Dangers of Google DentistryI went to the dentist a couple of weeks ago and, while he was poking around in my mouth, he found a cavity in the side of a tooth that wasn't even showing up on x-ray. It was under a filling. "Lovely," I thought.<br /><br />I got home and I started thinking about how if it didn't show on the x-ray, then there was no way to know how big it was without just going ahead and filling it, right? I didn't really think anymore about it at that point.<br /><br />Fast-forward to last Friday when my tooth began to hurt off and on. I asked my dad, who has had four root canals, what it feels like if you need one. He said that it would hurt a lot. It was kind of a dull ache and it seemed to only hurt at the end of my day. I took some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tylenol</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">thought</span> that would take care of it. I had an appointment to get it filled on September 8 after all.<br /><br />Well, it hurt all weekend. It hurt all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Monday</span> while I subbed for a Sophomore <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">English</span> class. It hurt Tuesday when I subbed for another Sophomore English class. I called the dentist's office Tuesday afternoon and asked if they could squeeze me in, soon. Then, I went home and googled "root canal" and "root canal symptoms." What I saw scared me because I had some of the symptoms.<br /><br />I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">went</span> into the dentist's today well informed and scared to death. He gave me two shots of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">novocaine</span> and started drilling. He drilled off and on for over <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">twenty</span> minutes. I thought that drilling the old filling off would take a while and I was right. After those twenty-plus minutes of starting and stopping, he pronounced it a run-of-the-mill cavity and not even that big of a filling.<br /><br />I should maybe not google these things. I scared myself a lot. At least, I didn't look at the pictures though!susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-24506063501594266472009-08-25T18:24:00.002-05:002009-08-25T18:40:48.896-05:00CrazinessThese last few weeks have been just full of crazy stuff going on.<br /><br />On the job front, I need to go test for the Department of Human Services position sometime soon. It's a full -time position and the test is fairly simple. It's even on computer! It's just a matter of finding the time to drive to Nashville and do it. In the meantime, I am back to substitute teaching, which I thought would be enough to keep me busy. It's not. I am l<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ucky</span> to get two days a week, but school did just start. I am still at Domino's thirty hours a week. It makes getting up for school awesome. Really.<br /><br />My fifth anniversary is coming up on Saturday. Some kind person in my husband's band booked a show for that night so I'm going to that. Quincy is spending the night with my parents, but I won't really get to spend any more time with my hubby because of the show. I guarantee he'll be home around 4 a.m. and I have to open at Domino's Sunday morning.<br /><br />Other than that. an old friend of mine died Saturday, August 15<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span>. It was completely unexpected. I used to see him all the time on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Facebook</span> chat list and Yahoo chat list and it's sad not to. I was never able to spend much time with him because all of his get-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">togethers</span> took place while I was working. I'm always working. The funeral was perfect for him. It was the first funeral I have been to for someone I wasn't related to.<br /><br />That's about all that's going on right now. Just busy, busy, busy!susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-22681214414805568892009-08-10T12:04:00.015-05:002009-08-10T12:29:24.454-05:00The Rest of the Garden!Okay, I posted pics of what came out of my garden for today. Here's some pics of the garden and what's still in it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfaXVbpFondh_HT9HZm1l1xT_y1LyNeNpXD1Knhwiv4M3UHmkJ4nG5jajQS7rYXIf1ph-uwUGlYJ56Ug5_Xg7ZjNeQ2adBSdqbe-y126eI1HhzBhOUhh4dPbIjaU_FMgTYz6DLg/s1600-h/garden+001.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfaXVbpFondh_HT9HZm1l1xT_y1LyNeNpXD1Knhwiv4M3UHmkJ4nG5jajQS7rYXIf1ph-uwUGlYJ56Ug5_Xg7ZjNeQ2adBSdqbe-y126eI1HhzBhOUhh4dPbIjaU_FMgTYz6DLg/s320/garden+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368382454934905186" border="0" /></a><br />These are the cucumber plants and some of cucumbers still in the garden.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmJmaKWSSYBxXCPb_hVuW5DvStvuZAHHGcsQnk83fLeOZiarTSC-1WXYZDnhxfjIJ8BzGGy2VKiikOhoAk3uSmLb9u3XFzCkkbLHy0lfJ3lRPb_H-7BGqvqVf1nc_c911deeooA/s1600-h/garden+002.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmJmaKWSSYBxXCPb_hVuW5DvStvuZAHHGcsQnk83fLeOZiarTSC-1WXYZDnhxfjIJ8BzGGy2VKiikOhoAk3uSmLb9u3XFzCkkbLHy0lfJ3lRPb_H-7BGqvqVf1nc_c911deeooA/s320/garden+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368382837707085234" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here's the bigger view of the cucumbers. They have really spread out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6tBolve9SUusKwXpPJqhYd6hwvpxyzPb5PAhqhb2zdW99TJg1MRdokVL2qTmwvjAlleMPJTeA4g0PF1-ScBc3plJUNKmNfeMxdIzKIGILjOv4v3kOl5gNHnX41t2PW4IKPmLiA/s1600-h/garden+003.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6tBolve9SUusKwXpPJqhYd6hwvpxyzPb5PAhqhb2zdW99TJg1MRdokVL2qTmwvjAlleMPJTeA4g0PF1-ScBc3plJUNKmNfeMxdIzKIGILjOv4v3kOl5gNHnX41t2PW4IKPmLiA/s320/garden+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368383203830718738" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These are the zucchini plants. They have gotten pretty tall and are starting to crowd the tomatoes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmpfbACBHApiBrFoJPl-vbP2WtDUUZfv-Y8oepgrFBwWg0HhU6z79t-K1pbCFbxpKgBr_rtJjLM4p8U8bvgb1EjsgpyZkFI2WUPKa4T0UDsCgXGr63PqoptjOhbNSzmKXUwSMsg/s1600-h/garden+004.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmpfbACBHApiBrFoJPl-vbP2WtDUUZfv-Y8oepgrFBwWg0HhU6z79t-K1pbCFbxpKgBr_rtJjLM4p8U8bvgb1EjsgpyZkFI2WUPKa4T0UDsCgXGr63PqoptjOhbNSzmKXUwSMsg/s320/garden+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368383661550736450" border="0" /></a><br />Here's one of the zucchinis growing. There are a few more beginning to grow, but none of them are big yet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_TdZsfKwGjK6FIstXupGUW1G49lFDqVayMsT2dYF_bd2vgT2cQITvRXtkBx20CT_0CyyCy_huLowbfRFnWkc884OHQce-4U_Acr6JJrOXDjw1u4J8khLkvBL_ckj4hKVF7-EIQ/s1600-h/garden+005.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_TdZsfKwGjK6FIstXupGUW1G49lFDqVayMsT2dYF_bd2vgT2cQITvRXtkBx20CT_0CyyCy_huLowbfRFnWkc884OHQce-4U_Acr6JJrOXDjw1u4J8khLkvBL_ckj4hKVF7-EIQ/s320/garden+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368384133598031714" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These are the tomatoes and some of the pepper plants. You can see them, but there are about ten tomatoes of various size growing. They are still all green at this point.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJZcht3w7NzS87gf5zg26ncdLbbUS20B6lbC1gcatQqzF1gMoVE2fJEdqV4gTqssWIxOPMyVA4pkD56StUljjv4xO5SpD6wzLTbJ6sTY52sTGB8VqcpLnP5HsRIZOZvZ_eR9P3A/s1600-h/garden+006.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqJZcht3w7NzS87gf5zg26ncdLbbUS20B6lbC1gcatQqzF1gMoVE2fJEdqV4gTqssWIxOPMyVA4pkD56StUljjv4xO5SpD6wzLTbJ6sTY52sTGB8VqcpLnP5HsRIZOZvZ_eR9P3A/s320/garden+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368384644418297378" border="0" /></a><br />This is one of my green pepper plants and the mini green pepper that is growing. There are a few others on the second plant.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqJpLOpw6c_l5FfLE4k5YdNJuElI-n7-d8MdHNuXLi0KV1WLjM_apHjC7oK0w8F5ZCNjsfgLGt30aWCQdJLRboKvr3nkPFc_qdAF9JkWJbw4sJ5hWT88IyAS1cQ0i427nRELiAg/s1600-h/garden+007.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqJpLOpw6c_l5FfLE4k5YdNJuElI-n7-d8MdHNuXLi0KV1WLjM_apHjC7oK0w8F5ZCNjsfgLGt30aWCQdJLRboKvr3nkPFc_qdAF9JkWJbw4sJ5hWT88IyAS1cQ0i427nRELiAg/s320/garden+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368385035598509618" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Pardon my hand in this picture. This is the tabasco pepper plant. It has an amazing amount of peppers on it. I don't know what we're going to do with all of them.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHI-6k4Gic31yTVwo41Q1BImrhclAA76ppiQ5HpEFkn6YKqkn1Jddh9d1rQuOuaG6hKengmy_Dd8gtRSzoloI54rsHuNzrKJURXHCBX6mmUDSD0E_Jqirbu-_ChvktdmQJJcwRTw/s1600-h/garden+008.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHI-6k4Gic31yTVwo41Q1BImrhclAA76ppiQ5HpEFkn6YKqkn1Jddh9d1rQuOuaG6hKengmy_Dd8gtRSzoloI54rsHuNzrKJURXHCBX6mmUDSD0E_Jqirbu-_ChvktdmQJJcwRTw/s320/garden+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368386202842157762" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This is the really big cayenne pepper plant. It was the first one planted and is much bigger than the other two.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBWr-RIf4BlXcyo4WC5dBZyt722lHJqLr-aVzYUmv71uOfCJaQbZ8EVSZFqXvNLiqrBkydZy2QddXLjz0pVB0NQgzfvqIIDtxHTJLS5VuhfAfvuPYRC3p-OOT3h5VXNuCoqntVA/s1600-h/garden+009.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBWr-RIf4BlXcyo4WC5dBZyt722lHJqLr-aVzYUmv71uOfCJaQbZ8EVSZFqXvNLiqrBkydZy2QddXLjz0pVB0NQgzfvqIIDtxHTJLS5VuhfAfvuPYRC3p-OOT3h5VXNuCoqntVA/s320/garden+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368387000699450594" border="0" /></a><br /><br />These are small banana peppers that are growing on the biggest plant. I have no idea why it's bigger than the other eight plants. They all have some tiny banana peppers on them. I don't know what we'll do with all these either. Pickle them?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcEYaxzjGvYMLBgp5ZWHpooYz2lbiY8d4mz2kqzShaeq3mwZAFH2plAMUNDYZrXEObnwTxiqUDD8JgqW8KM_G-MApysd-i7HCRsHi8LL-B2XESdUFVofjbf6TZnHdM-bhd0dQKw/s1600-h/garden+010.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcEYaxzjGvYMLBgp5ZWHpooYz2lbiY8d4mz2kqzShaeq3mwZAFH2plAMUNDYZrXEObnwTxiqUDD8JgqW8KM_G-MApysd-i7HCRsHi8LL-B2XESdUFVofjbf6TZnHdM-bhd0dQKw/s320/garden+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368387666754686258" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Last picture! One of the nine jalapeno plants and some of the peppers. There are about 15 more growing.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-4633092617729954412009-08-10T11:59:00.003-05:002009-08-10T12:04:09.902-05:00Today's HarvestHere's everything picked from the garden today:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFYsoKJG2L2RrUd8gocYEkho1G1dRa07WqZQMBXacT4ZRCM31E9ssfxXs4jFNtbKoZKMf6gHOEyyLLJIzcQw8NvNDrPJRgQ3HuLQeyJvJVHqzc-fnwmr6wcO7fhbddrdtQYAn7A/s1600-h/garden+011.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFYsoKJG2L2RrUd8gocYEkho1G1dRa07WqZQMBXacT4ZRCM31E9ssfxXs4jFNtbKoZKMf6gHOEyyLLJIzcQw8NvNDrPJRgQ3HuLQeyJvJVHqzc-fnwmr6wcO7fhbddrdtQYAn7A/s320/garden+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368381071066676194" border="0" /></a><br />Cayenne peppers. jalapeno peppers, and tabasco peppers<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-L6NpIvM6Ia5EAGeeTS9PtsazgRaL95FJ7RwJ592Eo9v-yQYGjm1k9FPqxEPJ9d2ljB0ZltZm1vewrD_ZOVixSGn0NgFe0Yi1Y69qc-i6mGmWB-B62Uh1Gy3ILWcpqnpLCmtZg/s1600-h/garden+012.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-L6NpIvM6Ia5EAGeeTS9PtsazgRaL95FJ7RwJ592Eo9v-yQYGjm1k9FPqxEPJ9d2ljB0ZltZm1vewrD_ZOVixSGn0NgFe0Yi1Y69qc-i6mGmWB-B62Uh1Gy3ILWcpqnpLCmtZg/s320/garden+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368381176017623874" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Also, one cucumber. There's about four more that will be ready to pick tomorrow.<br /><br />Two good-sized zucchinis, too.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-63007692665451211722009-08-04T09:23:00.003-05:002009-08-04T22:22:38.280-05:00That Month went Fast!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZX6wo9Lkya-O87vusYLiCn5ru23UEXpmjYa-vy2BYDCmqDUsJsOsESp9Ot4a5t8kA84T11H76JVzXVCrD4gJ5C6ouL0VP7pDxeaeFFGrFDZw4jcIBgA1txd4ZIbXvZg1w-VZNg/s1600-h/edistoisland_jpg.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZX6wo9Lkya-O87vusYLiCn5ru23UEXpmjYa-vy2BYDCmqDUsJsOsESp9Ot4a5t8kA84T11H76JVzXVCrD4gJ5C6ouL0VP7pDxeaeFFGrFDZw4jcIBgA1txd4ZIbXvZg1w-VZNg/s320/edistoisland_jpg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366114198599313106" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On July 24, Quincy and I left for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Edisto</span> Island, SC. That's it in the picture above.<br /><br />The week before we left was a flurry of preparation--shopping, packing, running around like crazy getting stuff done. We got all packed and left on time though. I got poked and smacked and, sometimes, punched on the way <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">down</span> there.<br /><br />It was vacation, but I spent lots of time on the phone with my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">husband</span> checking to make sure my garden got watered and the dog got walked. I was worried!<br /><br />I have lots of pictures to bore y'all with. Quincy at the beach. Quincy in the pool. Fort Sumter. An alligator at the Charleston Aquarium. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Yay</span>! Stuff to look forward to.<br /><br />In the meantime, I rode in the middle of the backseat of my parents' truck all the way back. The drive took 12 hours and my right shoulder/neck may never be the same. As soon as I don't hurt anymore, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">there'll</span> be a long <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Edisto</span> post. Also, a garden post.<br /><br />Oh, and I am now on the job list for interviews for one job with the State of Tennessee and going to test to get on the eligible list for another soon. So all is well on the job front!susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-63472664277989782872009-07-14T23:12:00.002-05:002009-07-14T23:20:39.831-05:00I've been wronged!We let Quincy play out in the backyard often. Today, he wanted out to work on his garden. He planted grass in it yesterday and thought it needed something done to it.<br /><br />Anyway, he decided that they grass needed trimmed so he borrowed my scissors that were out there and went to work.<br /><br />Meanwhile, in the house, I was eating my lunch while my husband <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">washed</span> the dishes in the kitchen and watched Quincy out the window. He looked away for a moment, only a moment. I heard him say, "Oh, no!" That got my attention.<br /><br />He opened the back door really quick and yelled at Quincy, "Why did you do that?" In the meantime, I ran to the door to see what disaster had happened.<br /><br />I have had one cherry <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tomato</span> plant in my garden this summer. This past week, it got eight little green tomatoes on it. I've been pretty excited about having eight tomatoes at once.<br /><br />Quincy cut it down with the scissors. His reason? "I don't think I like tomato plants"<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">There'll</span> be pictures tomorrow.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-7079725274639142382009-07-11T23:35:00.002-05:002009-07-14T23:20:32.445-05:00What does this say about me?I realized the other day that it's a good thing I'm married because I have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">questionable</span> taste in men. I mean, I find myself attracted to guys who would be good fling material, but not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">relationship</span> material.<br /><br />I got lucky with my husband. I mean, sure, he annoys me sometimes and we have the same fight over and over, but he has redeeming qualities. He is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">amazingly</span> responsible with money and with things like life insurance. He cleans the house because I am often completely exhausted when I am home. He does the dishes because, well, I don't.<br /><br />Would another guy do that? Maybe.<br /><br />Would guys I think are attractive (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ie</span>. good for a roll in the hay)? <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Probably</span> not.<br /><br />I wonder sometimes if I am good <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">relationship</span> material. I mean, I'm almost always in a good mood. I usually have a smile for anyone. I like to push to get the necessary tasks done so I have free time to sit on my ass. This would be why I make lists. That way, things get done. The whole sitting on my ass a lot thing does not make me a great catch though. It does mean that I probably know what is happening on my favorite TV show at any given time. Oh, and I read a lot of books. A lot. Really.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-91671145099278280562009-07-01T09:20:00.008-05:002009-07-05T21:25:55.262-05:00The Gardening Bug Bit Quincy!Or maybe he just really, really likes mud! When he was almost a year old, if he got mud on his hands he would stare at it and then cry until we washed him off. Now, he loves to make mud. He loves to play in it.<br /><br />He says that he's gardening. What do you think? It looks like playing to me!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3H842UcxH6K1BNhd5ONEAhst9deImQWqwHpUrFO-hf_AlsfQpNT7GIdT_t0NctJKpY2eTI2nl052VStI8XDn2j9Afzp-KLsrpHC9MwiNAa-E381F5kNM43rbnZa43TtydA7mfNw/s1600-h/q2+005.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3H842UcxH6K1BNhd5ONEAhst9deImQWqwHpUrFO-hf_AlsfQpNT7GIdT_t0NctJKpY2eTI2nl052VStI8XDn2j9Afzp-KLsrpHC9MwiNAa-E381F5kNM43rbnZa43TtydA7mfNw/s320/q2+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353497621400720722" border="0" /></a><br />Notice the mud puddle below him in this one and the pic below this. He made that with the hose.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gdWhGTarSwrREMx3OP-bColJL0x9u3jh8PFUZhUBZpBsTtkTb_xYaJdClaAapa88pDARXargQn-RBLZ2MIlzrIBgyHQuD_TH4Rqas9nu-5AGExckdk00RNlMVTc-XNwsFon30g/s1600-h/q2+006.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gdWhGTarSwrREMx3OP-bColJL0x9u3jh8PFUZhUBZpBsTtkTb_xYaJdClaAapa88pDARXargQn-RBLZ2MIlzrIBgyHQuD_TH4Rqas9nu-5AGExckdk00RNlMVTc-XNwsFon30g/s320/q2+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353497850640968786" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfjXwLHK6lhT4KrVqxaN2jV3nnGlrk-PRYq7othIX-4tdyTYaGhKeer4oZjpby3BE5uH5kuEtkMpuPXJbPX4mkCg8yBczG9S1PwHVfgFov_bWAaLW_rnEP2flJN3X0yKzfR4hhg/s1600-h/q2+007.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfjXwLHK6lhT4KrVqxaN2jV3nnGlrk-PRYq7othIX-4tdyTYaGhKeer4oZjpby3BE5uH5kuEtkMpuPXJbPX4mkCg8yBczG9S1PwHVfgFov_bWAaLW_rnEP2flJN3X0yKzfR4hhg/s320/q2+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353498064138529506" border="0" /></a><br />He also got a little wet while messing with the hose.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8UeiQ7-1M7vX17Z-iRQEVcq7PTZa7JaaRiNtpsz_HC1TNPGdDW5JzaAWYnJBCoWfCVQ1gL4Sgjinqwi2HIJokrzLJ7mBGaWAw1RePjD4vH75HQyT6-as4vee6XqC3XuXDpwISQ/s1600-h/q2+008.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO8UeiQ7-1M7vX17Z-iRQEVcq7PTZa7JaaRiNtpsz_HC1TNPGdDW5JzaAWYnJBCoWfCVQ1gL4Sgjinqwi2HIJokrzLJ7mBGaWAw1RePjD4vH75HQyT6-as4vee6XqC3XuXDpwISQ/s320/q2+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353498267457741074" border="0" /></a><br />He's checking out his feet here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0__EoJGlDHk-YS6f391zAScC1YpOe4J7Psg7V9vb1jEk3406NdwTy64y9mstq_pXmGkYvEn3myGkKR3acxvC-QdTJqPWbhbzs78Ags5uJI3siW5X1gBPG_rBqaBxJIsQF69lmg/s1600-h/q2+017.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0__EoJGlDHk-YS6f391zAScC1YpOe4J7Psg7V9vb1jEk3406NdwTy64y9mstq_pXmGkYvEn3myGkKR3acxvC-QdTJqPWbhbzs78Ags5uJI3siW5X1gBPG_rBqaBxJIsQF69lmg/s320/q2+017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353498455863034722" border="0" /></a><br />This is after playing in the mud the next day. Doesn't he look proud?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAX3BYPUSJg9TLiyyd4PZXplrlR7NAj0rqeHOae1K3JMb8u4gPLUpWkRs7XuZ9ix8YdX2Sx4imrWSYnRyV15EnAzZyG9vxAxDvJBgpAbtYHlqR6-QpmvRQvU4h3oUZIYO-6bQ_XA/s1600-h/q2+018.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAX3BYPUSJg9TLiyyd4PZXplrlR7NAj0rqeHOae1K3JMb8u4gPLUpWkRs7XuZ9ix8YdX2Sx4imrWSYnRyV15EnAzZyG9vxAxDvJBgpAbtYHlqR6-QpmvRQvU4h3oUZIYO-6bQ_XA/s320/q2+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353498668012653714" border="0" /></a><br />And his feet again! He took a much-needed shower after this!susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-7439167231458251952009-06-22T22:11:00.002-05:002009-06-22T22:19:43.067-05:00I am an angry 4 year old boy!That's an apt description of my child.<br /><br />He's mad because we won't buy him this toy or that toy. He's mad because I won't stop at McDonald's at 9 o'clock at night. He's mad because <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Wubbzy</span> isn't on all the time, or we made him leave the playground or sit down and eat lunch or told him to stop spitting. Whatever we have done, he's angry.<br /><br />He spent the last week in Florida with my parents. They frequently heard, "I'm mad," and ,"I'm angry." He <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">had</span> to be carried out of a toy store because they took him in just to look. Last night, my mom would not let him have a steak knife at the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">restaurant</span> they were at and he pitched a fit. He told me that he understood that the knife could hurt him but that "Grandma was supposed to share her knifes."<br /><br />When he gets mad, he spits. Unless he's angry because we're trying to leave the playground, then he runs away. Once caught, he yells, screams, and kicks his feet. It's awesome.<br /><br />My sister thinks he needs to go to some sort of anger management/behavioral class. My friends with 4 year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">olds</span> tell me that this is mostly in the realm of normal behavior. Is it? Any suggestions?susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-30515799143665021872009-06-19T23:05:00.004-05:002009-06-19T23:15:55.935-05:00Life at the momentMy husband and I are nearing the 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> anniversary. I'm happy. I guess. Is a happy marriage one that you're content in? I'm content and comfortable. And annoyed.<br /><br />I get tired of being home alone all the time with no one to talk to but my 4 year old. I am tired of never spending any time with my husband. Scratch that, we spend time together, but we're both asleep.<br /><br />Is marriage, at this point, supposed to feel kind of like having a roommate? One who kisses you in passing every once in a while?<br /><br />Maybe I read too many romance novels and have seen "Twilight" too many times. I want my relationship to be similar to Edward and Bella's. To be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">someone's</span> "own personal brand of heroin." Is that even possible after this many years together?<br /><br />Quincy has been in Florida all week and we really only got to spend one day together. Well, we spent Sunday together, but I had fever and was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pukey</span> and nauseous. I'm not counting that. Our one day together, we had two arguments. I thought one of them would never end. Quincy gets back tomorrow and I am looking forward to that.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-24268646176405446682009-06-10T21:15:00.002-05:002009-07-14T23:20:49.545-05:00I'm so glad I'm on the other side of this now..Last week was by far the most stressful week that I have had in a while. Hubby has been talking about moving for <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">months</span> now and waiting for our lease to end. It finally ended and he gave them notice that we were moving. I was not really asked for my opinion on it. We spent four frantic days looking at house after house. Each one we looked at was worse than the last or more expensive or further out of town. Truthfully, my husband found something wrong with every house we looked at. Some were in bad neighborhoods. Some were under high-tension power lines. Some were near cell phone towers. We found two that we really liked. The ads said nothing about pets so we asked. Neither one allowed pets. They had left that out of both ads. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Bleh</span>.<br /><br />By last Wednesday, I had experienced a panic attack followed by tears pretty much every night. I was certain that we were going to end up living in my parents' back yard because we had no place else to go. I knew that we <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">couldn't</span> stay here because he'd already given notice. I NEEDED to know where we were moving RIGHT THAT VERY SECOND every night. I had to pack. I had to call the water department, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">electric</span> department, the phone <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">company</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Books</span> from Birth, Insurance, the cable company, and the student loan people. These things take time. Time we did not have. So by Thursday, I was determined we would find something that very day. We didn't. Not even close. It was time to pay rent for our last month. We drove to our rental office where I told our son that he'd better enjoy his sucker from there because he'd never get another. I waited in the car with him <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">because</span> I just knew I'd cry if I went in. My husband <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">was</span> in there forever. He came back out with our lease renewal paper. He had talked to the manager and renewed our lease for another year! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Yay</span>!<br /><br />It took me several days to feel like myself again. I resumed by search for a day job this weekend, but I didn't update my resume until today so I probably passed up a few that were available. Here's hoping someone calls me for an interview because I have to pay those student loan people somehow.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-82752121932359232912009-05-28T20:46:00.006-05:002009-05-30T00:39:35.131-05:00Deceptive PhotographyToday, we took a trip to the park. Quincy had fun on the slide!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqw4IkFNoRhpe3ciu6mg7QTNhQ_SCjxTiWy50qdnibWPkUUfA8tm6SCSsEAD-4v_ot5dXVA6XCIhTi4Pa14PKiYVKKCcm2Q2edZB5wsqkOXEHbCBaep5jiNZk-517h2GUO76gqA/s1600-h/q+008.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqw4IkFNoRhpe3ciu6mg7QTNhQ_SCjxTiWy50qdnibWPkUUfA8tm6SCSsEAD-4v_ot5dXVA6XCIhTi4Pa14PKiYVKKCcm2Q2edZB5wsqkOXEHbCBaep5jiNZk-517h2GUO76gqA/s320/q+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341056627514875762" border="0" /></a><br /><br />He even had fun posing for pictures!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ogjSzRQebL427Dc7_t0dCHvVkG6zzgbRheJWUqmZ02YtIuZ-ZE9NZwCpLCGeDC9KuTttv1yvYxZFW-OAcP-jhyphenhyphenrIIKLwd23G6O_wn5IInjDejJPlcjFEFruL-PyNPYfISXdm_A/s1600-h/q+019.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ogjSzRQebL427Dc7_t0dCHvVkG6zzgbRheJWUqmZ02YtIuZ-ZE9NZwCpLCGeDC9KuTttv1yvYxZFW-OAcP-jhyphenhyphenrIIKLwd23G6O_wn5IInjDejJPlcjFEFruL-PyNPYfISXdm_A/s320/q+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341056772698526386" border="0" /></a><br /><br />He thought it was great to peer out at me from the holes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcpnUoTXexKpNXWO1ODv2KpTKZAX5GlpHC24aUiaxZiG_YiPCGDIIzD-CbYNk7HWG7IGOVvnZ_4ej-G4ZnBIi_MVsjSRWkVCkrZCD0O6O4UKj7Y7YGCeT9L1pzS8w7NfKemvhog/s1600-h/q+020.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcpnUoTXexKpNXWO1ODv2KpTKZAX5GlpHC24aUiaxZiG_YiPCGDIIzD-CbYNk7HWG7IGOVvnZ_4ej-G4ZnBIi_MVsjSRWkVCkrZCD0O6O4UKj7Y7YGCeT9L1pzS8w7NfKemvhog/s320/q+020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341056950467469618" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And, again, the slides were awesome!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBi4I2z6dxPKvVRuI4UMaTaeZCzKyKLqTJmZrWfszHSaM_of90qC78X9FJAL21tW7gEHhnBS8Kj-g0ypzRzxcnls5OgNyjMb8WziF6L1_2wVH60dFy3wJgB-E0QIVmnnSjKQBIpQ/s1600-h/q+023.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBi4I2z6dxPKvVRuI4UMaTaeZCzKyKLqTJmZrWfszHSaM_of90qC78X9FJAL21tW7gEHhnBS8Kj-g0ypzRzxcnls5OgNyjMb8WziF6L1_2wVH60dFy3wJgB-E0QIVmnnSjKQBIpQ/s320/q+023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341057070862936242" border="0" /></a><br /><br />What was not fun was leaving. When I said that it was time to leave, Quincy ran the other way. There's lots of unreachable places at the playground. I could see the benefits of a leash for a 4 year old. I finally cornered him, picked him up, and carried him to the car screaming. Other <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">toddlers</span> were leaving and not screaming. Not mine though. Mine screamed all 20 minutes of the ride home. We're not going back to the park anytime soon.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-37583698636076024682009-05-26T00:45:00.003-05:002009-05-30T00:39:44.945-05:00*sigh* I wishA side effect of the over-analyzing/over-thinking thing is that it eats up large amounts of my time. I tend to do it when I'm alone, which is much of the time (pretty much always at night until 4 a.m. or so). Since I have no one to talk to, there's nobody to keep me from thinking myself into a funk.<br /><br />I HATE thoughts going round and round in my head. It makes it really hard to lie down and go to sleep. I should have done more today, then I would have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">something</span> to be tired from and be sleeping now instead of rambling incoherently.<br /><br />I wish I had a husband who was home at this hour, who got up with the sun and spent <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mornings</span> with me. One who did not sleep half the day and stay up half the night. That schedule is great for single people, but not so much for a marriage. I knew he was a late night owl when I married him, but I hoped it would shift a little. Yes, I know, people don't often change in any important way. It's unrealistic to expect that someone will. Still, I wish.<br /><br />While I am at it, I wish he wrote me poetry or songs. I wish he made me laugh more often. There's something great about a person who can make people laugh. I wish he remembered birthdays and bought cards. Also, Mother's Day. *sigh* I wish he were around to make me smile more.<br /><br />Yes, I'm being unrealistic. I know he'll never change. Still, I wish.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11253504.post-61262816047348527392009-05-22T22:14:00.002-05:002009-05-30T00:39:57.437-05:00What I LearnedI almost have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ph</span>.D. in English. I am really only lacking my dissertation. I love books. Put me in a room surrounded by books and I am in heaven. Put me in a room with old books and I am in awe. Maybe I should have picked up a Library Science degree, huh?<br /><br />One thing I learned in grad school was to pick literature apart. Not just books, also poetry. I can explicate a poem (which is really just a close reading) to the point of writing a good ten page paper on it. I actually wrote a thirty page paper once on three poems by the Cavalier poets. I don't remember which poems or which poets at this point.<br /><br />My point is that I know how to analyze. That's pretty much what I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">learned</span>. I analyze things to death sometimes. I also <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">overthink</span> situations. I've been known to still be trying to figure out what someone meant by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">something</span> they said hours later. I guess there's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">good</span> and bad things about <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">being</span> over-analytical. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">spend</span> a lot of time in my own head, usually going in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">circles</span>, but not always. That's not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">necessarily</span> good. I am also good at stepping back from situations and getting some perspective on them. I guess that's good.<br /><br />I spent much of my childhood with my nose buried in a book learning from other people's experiences. Sometimes that's the best way to learn.susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13996858717887203810noreply@blogger.com0