Resolve

My resolution for 2011:

I resolve to make it through this coming year (babies, graduation, interstate move, new job and whatever else life sees fit to throw at us) with my sanity firmly intact.

That is all.

I may actually be setting the bar high, considering my current mental state (see picture).

Guilty

This is a story about how I got in trouble with the principal. No, not when I was in third grade . . . it was yesterday.

Every Tuesday I volunteer at the kid's elementary school. Yesterday I was in Seth's class, and the teacher had asked me to run one of the reading groups. We were reading the biography of George Washington Carver, which I found fascinating. We over ran our time by a few minutes, so the teacher instructed the group to meet the rest of the class in the computer lab when they were finished.

Upon completion of the assignment, I took my time collecting the books while the group scooted down the hallway to the lab. Apparently my school teaching chops are in a dormant state after these eight years, because it failed to occur to me that a group of nine year olds should not scoot down the hall unaccompanied. By the time I caught up with them at the lab, they were being lectured by the principal on the many virtues of walking down the hall in a civil manner. She ended the lecture with, "Which adult are you supposed to be with anyway?" Eight sets of eyes and eight little fingers pointed in exactly my direction.

My first instinct was to protest, to offer excuses of ignorance, to pretend like I didn't even know this particular group of children (which would have been difficult, considering one of them was Seth). In the end I went with mea culpa, and accepted her instruction on how to properly convey a group of nine year olds from point A to point B. It has been many moons since I felt like such a complete dimwit.

A Comedy Of Errors: Shakespeare in Real Life

Remember this? I was thinking of it as I readied the fam Sunday morning for the annual Ward Primary Program. At the time I thought that would be the most exciting Primary Program ever . . .

THE SCRIPT

The Setting: Sunday morning at our house.

The Cast: Mandy, Michael, the kids, a cello, Mazda 3 and Dora our Explorer.

Act 1:

Scene 1: The lights come up on Mandy in the bathroom styling her hair with a flat iron. The lights quickly black out as the flat iron goes supernova in a fireball of sparks. Mandy runs upstairs to flip the breaker switch, examine the black burn on the underside of her arm and to trim the singed hair ends off her head with a pair of children's scissors (she was in a rush, okay?) Her hair looks a little bit rock n' roll, but she doesn't have time to do anything about it.

Mandy: Hurry kids! We have to get to the church by 9:30 so we can get a decent seat. I want to be able to see both of you on the stand!

Kids move as slowly as they possibly can without inciting the wrath of their mother.

The phone rings.

Mandy: Hello? Hi Mikey. Did you work all night? Did you sleep at all? Sorry babe. Well, I'm glad you'll make it home in time to see the program . . . especially as you are playing the cello in the last musical number. Drive safe. Don't fall asleep. Love you too . . . bye.

Mandy sets her phone down on the desk. She never takes her cell to church because it drives her bonkers when phones ring in church.

Scene 2:

Michael and Mandy cross paths as she is herding children out the door toward the car. Michael has parked the Mazda behind Dora.

Mandy: Wait! You parked behind me!

Michael: It will only take me a few minutes to change out of these scrubs . . . just take my car, I'll take yours.

Alice: I wanna go with Daddy . . . . Please? Please? Please?

Mandy: Fine, go with dad. I'll see you in a few minutes.

Act 2:

Scene 1: Mandy settles Seth in his place up on the stand and secures a primo seat for viewing both his and Alice's angelic little faces as they sing.

Several people stop by her seat and ask where Michael is, and whether he'll make it in time for the program, which she assures them he will.

10:00 arrives and Mandy is becoming increasingly nervous. She hasn't seen hide nor hair of Michael, Alice or the cello. The meeting begins and Mandy spends most of the next ten minutes watching the door and praying that they will show up soon. At approximately 10:15 Mandy sits bolt upright in her seat with alarm.

Mandy: (whispering under her breath) I have the keys. I have both sets of keys!

Mandy leaves Thomas with some friends and bolts across the building to the church phone, and dials Michael. No Answer. Mandy leaves a message.

Mandy: Michael . . . I just realized I have the keys. I'll be home in a minute. I'm coming!

Mandy is picturing Michael carrying the cello down the hill in the rain with Alice who has a strong reputation for being the slowest walker in the family. She scopes out the lobby of the entrance her family always uses as she run/walks out of the building. No Michael, no Alice, no cello. Once out she moves into a full run, which probably looks especially graceful since she's wearing heels. (The author apologizes to anyone who had to witness that).

Scene 2: Mandy drives well over the speed limit the mile and a half home, all the while scanning the sidewalks for a wet Michael, Alice and cello. At home she finds Dora, but no Michael, no Alice, no cello. She grabs her cell phone, runs back to the car and starts dialing and driving. No Michael. No Michael. No Michael.

Finally he picks up.

Michael: Where are you?

Mandy: Where are you?

Michael: I'm at the church. Our neighbor brought us. I got your message just as we were walking in the other door . . . I tried to chase you down, but you were pulling out of the parking lot when I saw you. Hurry back, the program is starting.

Scene 3: Mandy only missed the first two songs. Alice made it up on the stand just in time. The program was lovely. No kissing the little blonde neighbor boy. Michael was tired, but the cello sounded great. After the meeting he recounts the pleasure of knocking on all the neighbor's doors looking for a ride while dressed in his suit on a Sunday morning. Now they really all think we are crazy Mormons. Mandy has a lot of guilt about the keys.

Later at church our friend/neighbor informs us that Michael had called her cell and she'd been trying to call him back with no luck. His phone hadn't logged any of Mandy's calls (but the one from the church) either.

. . .

The story ends with Mandy in the T-Mobile store begging the sales guy to figure out what is wrong with their phones. After a 40 minute wait he replaces both our SIM cards. On a way out the door he mentions "Yeah, and if that doesn't help, it's probably because there is a tower out in ____" (And do you know which neighborhood he mentions? Do you? Well I'll tell you . . . it was ours.)

(Curtain falls . . . The End)

Performance rights must be secured before live production.

Regression

Movie Reviews

This website thinks I'm still in high school. Come on. I have a degree. Just because I talk to kiddos all day does not mean that my brain has regressed that much.
I still have the prologue from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales memorized!
Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
(okay, you get the idea . . . .)

Maybe if I discuss in depth more esoteric subjects . . .
For instance, Quantum mechanics which is the study of mechanical systems whose dimensions are close to or below the atomic scale, such as molecules, atoms, electrons, protons and other subatomic particles. (Okay, I stole that from Wikipedia.)

Or maybe I should borrow from the article that Michael published last year for a medical journal about adjuvant therapy and giant cell tumors. I can't even remember the title of that article, it was so complex.

Or I could discuss how much I enjoy standing in the middle of a park holding a freshly picked dandelion bouquet, given to me by children who love me. Yeah, that's better.

I have entered some of your blogs into the reading level calculator, and some of you are geniuses. I'll forget about my own regression and just be glad I have the opportunity to bask in your greatness.

Okay, I have decided that the assignment of reading level is completely arbitrary. I entered in my extended family's blog address, and it is at a genius level. I KNOW that blog is not at a genius level. My brother played "Baby Name Survivor" on that blog, hoping to convince his wife to let him name their new baby daughter "Booster Gold."