We are really moving to the Midwest.
My stomach gets that empty-achy feeling when I think of all I must do between now and then. Mostly I pray and procrastinate. I hope that praying will soon help me stop procrastinating.
Sometimes it is easier if I focus on a part of the process that is a little less awful, like the part about finding a new house.
We never did quite get our "dream" house. That's OK. We have 20 acres of lovely land in the country, on which we never built, but that's OK too. I like the house I have; I like it a lot. The only thing it's missing is a broom closet, and truth be told, I don't think broom closets exist in Central New York.
I like my house so much, that I started looking for a similar house in the Midwest. I was searching online, looking at this and that, when it dawned on me... my kids are not coming with me. In fact, the older three will probably never live at home again. Jonno is going to college this fall. David is going to medical school. Not a one of them will live in my new house with me.
The thought makes me more sad than ever as I try to face packing up and moving out of this house that I like, this house that has served us so well for the past 18 years.
In the meantime, what in the world kind of house do you get when you are moving with an empty nest, but you have four tremendous, incredible, wonderful kids and you want them always, always to know that they can come home for a visit, and there will be room for them. Even if (oh, please, please let it happen) they all come at the same time, there will be room for them. Even if they get married and have families and all come at the same time, I'd like to be able to do it, although I pray to God that at least one of them will settle near me and share the hosting of this type of family reunion.
I'm thinking my first choice of house, if I could actually design it and have it exist, would be something like this:
It would be either a split-entry or a ranch with three bedroom and two bathrooms upstairs, and a walk-out basement with two more bedrooms and another bathroom. Shawn and I could live on the main floor and each use a spare bedroom for our "offices" when nobody was visiting.
The main floor would have a large, open area with connected kitchen, dining-room and living-room. The kitchen would be full of lovely stained oak, cherry or maple cabinets; I'm not fussy as long as they are not too dark or too light. An island with a breakfast bar would overlook the rest of the space, and Shawn and I would always eat there when were were alone. A fireplace, either red brick or gray stone trimmed in oak, would be the focal point of the living-room, but there would also be a beautiful, large window looking out to the front yard. Bookshelves projecting on either side of the window would give it an alcove sort of feeling. The floor would be hardwood, the ceiling would be vaulted, and the counter-tops would be a warm, brownish quartz. It would be big enough to host a large family dinner or a small group Bible study, but small enough that we wouldn't feel lost when we were home by ourselves.
Additional dream features: a wooden cathedral ceiling, like a church, crowned by a ridiculous crystal chandelier over the dining-room table. Also, I'd love French doors from the dining-room to a cozy sun-room/enclosed porch where I could read my Bible in an overstuffed floral chair of particularly bad taste.
I like my bathrooms fairly basic. The best bathrooms, in my humble opinion, have one piece fiberglass tub-shower units with no grout (easy to clean), and beautiful ceramic tile floors. I like black and white tiles, the little, old-fashioned octagonal ones. I also saw a sparkly white quartz counter-top once, and I thought it would be very nice in a bathroom.
Please, I do not want a whirlpool tub and separate glass shower in my master bathroom. I do not enjoy cleaning glass shower doors. Shower curtains are the bomb; you throw them into the washer until they are shot, and then you replace them (for a whole lot less than it costs to replace a moldy glass shower door).
I also hate the design where the toilet is off in its own little prison cell, relegated to a place of dishonor in a posh "salle-de-bain." One generally goes into the bathroom to use the toilet, and I hate for it to be hard to find. I also have a thing about wanting a toilet to be adjacent to a sink. Sometimes you just need that set up, and when you need it, you really need it, and that's all I'm going to say, but I'm serious. My ideal master bathroom would have an antechamber with a sink, mirror and linen closet. This enables one to use a non-steamed up mirror while someone else is showering. A pocket door would lead from this area to the regular bathroom, which would be small enough to get nice and warm quickly when in use, and contain a sink, toilet, standard tub/shower and window for ventilation.
The downstairs (sunny, bright walk-out basement) would have two bedrooms, a standard bathroom, and a large great room with potential for installing a small kitchen in case we ever needed to put somebody up in an apartment down there. I'd love it to have heated cement floors, stained a funky marbled brown, and a fireplace or woodstove. It would have sliders leading out to a stamp-crete patio surrounded by rose bushes. There would also be a storage/utility room on the non-windowed side of the house on the bedroom end.
A 2.5 -3 car garage with plenty of space to store the deck furniture in the winter would finish it off. Some brick on the exterior would be fantastic. Also, plenty of closets, including a broom closet. That's my dream house. It seems to me that everyone should want such a house, and it seems strange that it is so hard to find.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Coming back...
Guess what?
I'm retiring.
I taught for one full semester. On Friday I will be done teaching, and on Monday I will be all done grading and tying up loose ends.
I have three more days, and the weatherman says it's supposed to snow tomorrow, which would make it two more days if we get a snow day.
Shawn got a job in Illinois. After living in New York for 25 years, it is going to seem really weird to learn a new state, new spelling of the state, new rules and laws. I wonder if you have to get your car inspected every year in Illinois?
We will be leaving our kids behind. Well, not exactly, but Shannon will be on the east coast, the farthest of any of them. Jon is going to college! He only applied to one college, but by the grace of God they took him. It's Lulu's college, so that might simplify driving issues. They'll be 8 hours away instead of 5, but I keep telling myself, "It's less than double. It's less than double." We don't know yet where DJ will go to medical school; he has one acceptance that he likes a lot, and he will hear from a couple other schools in March. Then he will decide.
I can't figure out what kind of house you look for at this stage of life. I was looking at houses with floor-plans similar to the house we have now (2 story colonial types). Then I realized that I would probably be very lonely rattling around in a big house like that without any of my kids. Ugh. But we still want to have plenty of room so they always feel welcome to visit.
I feel a little bit like throwing up.
Teaching was interesting. Parts of it were good, and parts were not. I like kids (most kids, most days), and I like teaching in the classroom. I despise grading.
I also despise school bathrooms, even school bathrooms that are only for the staff. When your body is not quite right, and when that is actually one of the reasons you are retiring, you rejoice at the thought of being at home in the comfort of your own bathroom, no longer struggling with facilities that seem to have been imported from inner-city Moscow.
I'm retiring.
I taught for one full semester. On Friday I will be done teaching, and on Monday I will be all done grading and tying up loose ends.
I have three more days, and the weatherman says it's supposed to snow tomorrow, which would make it two more days if we get a snow day.
Shawn got a job in Illinois. After living in New York for 25 years, it is going to seem really weird to learn a new state, new spelling of the state, new rules and laws. I wonder if you have to get your car inspected every year in Illinois?
We will be leaving our kids behind. Well, not exactly, but Shannon will be on the east coast, the farthest of any of them. Jon is going to college! He only applied to one college, but by the grace of God they took him. It's Lulu's college, so that might simplify driving issues. They'll be 8 hours away instead of 5, but I keep telling myself, "It's less than double. It's less than double." We don't know yet where DJ will go to medical school; he has one acceptance that he likes a lot, and he will hear from a couple other schools in March. Then he will decide.
I can't figure out what kind of house you look for at this stage of life. I was looking at houses with floor-plans similar to the house we have now (2 story colonial types). Then I realized that I would probably be very lonely rattling around in a big house like that without any of my kids. Ugh. But we still want to have plenty of room so they always feel welcome to visit.
I feel a little bit like throwing up.
Teaching was interesting. Parts of it were good, and parts were not. I like kids (most kids, most days), and I like teaching in the classroom. I despise grading.
I also despise school bathrooms, even school bathrooms that are only for the staff. When your body is not quite right, and when that is actually one of the reasons you are retiring, you rejoice at the thought of being at home in the comfort of your own bathroom, no longer struggling with facilities that seem to have been imported from inner-city Moscow.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Merry Christmas!
Now that I don't blog anymore, obviously I rarely come here.
I may start blogging again at some point...
But even though that has not yet happened, I wanted to get something down.
A recipe.
It's been rather hectic lately, and by "rather" I mean "tremendously." A traditional Christmas celebration very nearly did not happen at our house this year. I still feel a bit sick to my stomach at the amount of receiving (as opposed to giving) that I did during 12-2012. Perhaps I will buy and mail some late gifts over break. If I do, it will be at the expense of lesson planning. Sigh.
Thank the Lord for kids who can bake cookies, decorate trees and play carols on the piano.
My heart is also filled with thanks because Shannon came home and had her wisdom teeth removed on 12-21... and it went smoothly and she is recovering very well.
Probably I don't need to spell it out, but I was not at my peak regarding holiday plans, holiday shopping or holiday meals. When Christmas Eve rolled around, I realized that I had some cryovac-packed chicken breasts in the refrigerator and an old bag of chopped spinach in the freezer.
Does it happen to you the way it happens to me? I can plan, strategize and work my fingers to the bone preparing a nice meal for company and have everything turn out ho-hum at best. But when I have no plan, no recipe, no company coming, possibly not even any ingredients, this is when my culinary masterpieces occur. This is what happened Christmas Eve.
The result was delicious. I sat at the table and shared a chicken and rice casserole with my family, savoring each bite and thinking what a shame that I did not exactly know what I had done to bring it to pass.
It was good enough that, even though I don't remember what I did, I wanted to try to get something down in case I want to try it again some day. So here goes:
(1) Cook 1.5 cups of rice and set aside
(saute the 1.5 cups of rice in a couple Tbsp. of butter until warm, add 1/2 tsp. kosher salt and 3 cups of water, bring to a boil, cover tightly, let sit 20 minutes or until ready to use)
(2) Cut up 4 good-sized, raw chicken breasts into bite sized pieces. Cook in a large pot in a little bit of olive oil. Add: granulated garlic, minced onion, kosher salt, crushed red pepper and cumin. I did not measure. I tend to be generous with seasonings. Cook the chicken and seasonings together until the chicken is no longer pink and the flavors have permeated into the chicken.
(3) Sprinkle 1/4 cup flour over the chicken and cook and stir until it is evenly coated and the flour seems to be lightly browned.
(4) Add 2 cups chicken broth. Stir well as you add it. Stir and cook over medium heat until it bubbles and begins to thicken.
(5) Add 2 cups whole milk. Stir constantly and continue to cook over medium heat until this also thickens and bubbles.
(6) Add about 1 cup of grated sharp cheddar cheese (I did not measure). Stir in until melted.
(7) Add about 1 cup of salsa (again... I did not measure). Stir in. Turn off heat.
(8) Cook a bag of frozen spinach (16 oz.? 12 oz.?). Drain and snip with scissors into small pieces.
(9) Add the spinach and the rice to the chicken and sauce. Stir well. Pour into a large, buttered casserole dish.
(10) Top with additional grated sharp cheddar cheese. Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes (this is assuming that the parts were still quite warm when you combined them). When the cheese is melted and slightly starting to brown, and the casserole bubbles around the edges, it is ready to eat.
I may start blogging again at some point...
But even though that has not yet happened, I wanted to get something down.
A recipe.
It's been rather hectic lately, and by "rather" I mean "tremendously." A traditional Christmas celebration very nearly did not happen at our house this year. I still feel a bit sick to my stomach at the amount of receiving (as opposed to giving) that I did during 12-2012. Perhaps I will buy and mail some late gifts over break. If I do, it will be at the expense of lesson planning. Sigh.
Thank the Lord for kids who can bake cookies, decorate trees and play carols on the piano.
My heart is also filled with thanks because Shannon came home and had her wisdom teeth removed on 12-21... and it went smoothly and she is recovering very well.
Probably I don't need to spell it out, but I was not at my peak regarding holiday plans, holiday shopping or holiday meals. When Christmas Eve rolled around, I realized that I had some cryovac-packed chicken breasts in the refrigerator and an old bag of chopped spinach in the freezer.
Does it happen to you the way it happens to me? I can plan, strategize and work my fingers to the bone preparing a nice meal for company and have everything turn out ho-hum at best. But when I have no plan, no recipe, no company coming, possibly not even any ingredients, this is when my culinary masterpieces occur. This is what happened Christmas Eve.
The result was delicious. I sat at the table and shared a chicken and rice casserole with my family, savoring each bite and thinking what a shame that I did not exactly know what I had done to bring it to pass.
It was good enough that, even though I don't remember what I did, I wanted to try to get something down in case I want to try it again some day. So here goes:
Crazy Christmas Eve Chicken and Rice Casserole
Ingredients:
long grain white rice
butter
water
kosher salt
raw chicken breast (boneless, skinless)
granulated garlic
minced onion
crushed red pepper
cumin
flour
chicken broth
whole milk
grated sharp cheddar cheese
salsa
frozen spinach
(saute the 1.5 cups of rice in a couple Tbsp. of butter until warm, add 1/2 tsp. kosher salt and 3 cups of water, bring to a boil, cover tightly, let sit 20 minutes or until ready to use)
(2) Cut up 4 good-sized, raw chicken breasts into bite sized pieces. Cook in a large pot in a little bit of olive oil. Add: granulated garlic, minced onion, kosher salt, crushed red pepper and cumin. I did not measure. I tend to be generous with seasonings. Cook the chicken and seasonings together until the chicken is no longer pink and the flavors have permeated into the chicken.
(3) Sprinkle 1/4 cup flour over the chicken and cook and stir until it is evenly coated and the flour seems to be lightly browned.
(4) Add 2 cups chicken broth. Stir well as you add it. Stir and cook over medium heat until it bubbles and begins to thicken.
(5) Add 2 cups whole milk. Stir constantly and continue to cook over medium heat until this also thickens and bubbles.
(6) Add about 1 cup of grated sharp cheddar cheese (I did not measure). Stir in until melted.
(7) Add about 1 cup of salsa (again... I did not measure). Stir in. Turn off heat.
(8) Cook a bag of frozen spinach (16 oz.? 12 oz.?). Drain and snip with scissors into small pieces.
(9) Add the spinach and the rice to the chicken and sauce. Stir well. Pour into a large, buttered casserole dish.
(10) Top with additional grated sharp cheddar cheese. Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes (this is assuming that the parts were still quite warm when you combined them). When the cheese is melted and slightly starting to brown, and the casserole bubbles around the edges, it is ready to eat.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Sometimes life asks a lot of you
It's Friday and another week of school has come and gone, like the waves on the beach, only maybe not quite. I hope I am teaching somebody something. Originally, the thought of having to prepare for four different classes scared me senseless, but after a couple of weeks, I find that one of my biggest challenges is keeping a consistent pace between my two classes that are supposed to be the same.
Now I have two full, beautiful days wherein I will not have to handle chalk or breathe chalk dust. For these two days, I can sleep in, which now means until 7:30.
My sister has breast cancer. That is what I alluded to earlier, a few posts ago.
Her prognosis is good. They caught it early, and she had three surgeries to remove all the cancerous tissue until there were what they call "clear margins." Not being a doctor, I imagine "clear margins" to be areas of tissue around the cancer sight where there is no cancer. I think of MLA margins, the kind I try to teach my students to use for their papers, one inch at the top, the bottom and down each side. Empty space, free from text. Clear tissue free from cancer cells.
My students might appreciate the parallel between text and cancer cells.
Meanwhile, my sister is losing her hair.
She never really liked her hair, and she was able to buy a smashingly cute wig. Even so, there is something about running the comb through your hair and feeling, watching the hair come off in the comb. Clusters of it detaching from your person, lying prone and dead on the counter like some sort of amputation, It isn't pain, like a a stubbed toe or a pin prick or a bee sting. It's just sickening, a sensation that takes your breath away like a fist in your gut, but less sudden.
So many drugs. Poisons. The stuff organic chemists make a career of developing. It is so weird to think that my daughter is developing these medicines, and my sister is having her body pumped full of them.
A professor of Shannon's once said, "It takes a poison to kill a cancer cell. If you could heal cancer with vitamins, there'd have been a cure long ago." So they research and design and create medicines... medicines with cloaks that allow them to travel right up to a cancer cell and recognize it before they "uncloak" and attack.
I want to be with my sister. We are a very unhuggy family, which is sad, but it is the way it is. So I probably would not hold her, and we would not cry together. Instead, I would tell her how nice her new wig looks, and we would run errands together, and I'd find ways to help her rest when she was tired. I'd make dinner and do the laundry because that is what I do. I'd chat with her while we walked the dog. I'd drive her to her appointments and make lame jokes while the drugs were running into her port.
I don't know if I could actually say the words "I love you." But I would do my level best to live it out. Because I do love her.
It's so hard to be so far away.
Now I have two full, beautiful days wherein I will not have to handle chalk or breathe chalk dust. For these two days, I can sleep in, which now means until 7:30.
My sister has breast cancer. That is what I alluded to earlier, a few posts ago.
Her prognosis is good. They caught it early, and she had three surgeries to remove all the cancerous tissue until there were what they call "clear margins." Not being a doctor, I imagine "clear margins" to be areas of tissue around the cancer sight where there is no cancer. I think of MLA margins, the kind I try to teach my students to use for their papers, one inch at the top, the bottom and down each side. Empty space, free from text. Clear tissue free from cancer cells.
My students might appreciate the parallel between text and cancer cells.
Meanwhile, my sister is losing her hair.
She never really liked her hair, and she was able to buy a smashingly cute wig. Even so, there is something about running the comb through your hair and feeling, watching the hair come off in the comb. Clusters of it detaching from your person, lying prone and dead on the counter like some sort of amputation, It isn't pain, like a a stubbed toe or a pin prick or a bee sting. It's just sickening, a sensation that takes your breath away like a fist in your gut, but less sudden.
So many drugs. Poisons. The stuff organic chemists make a career of developing. It is so weird to think that my daughter is developing these medicines, and my sister is having her body pumped full of them.
A professor of Shannon's once said, "It takes a poison to kill a cancer cell. If you could heal cancer with vitamins, there'd have been a cure long ago." So they research and design and create medicines... medicines with cloaks that allow them to travel right up to a cancer cell and recognize it before they "uncloak" and attack.
I want to be with my sister. We are a very unhuggy family, which is sad, but it is the way it is. So I probably would not hold her, and we would not cry together. Instead, I would tell her how nice her new wig looks, and we would run errands together, and I'd find ways to help her rest when she was tired. I'd make dinner and do the laundry because that is what I do. I'd chat with her while we walked the dog. I'd drive her to her appointments and make lame jokes while the drugs were running into her port.
I don't know if I could actually say the words "I love you." But I would do my level best to live it out. Because I do love her.
It's so hard to be so far away.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
School has started
Today was my second day of school with kids in the classroom. It was Jonathan's third (as a kid in a classroom).
I like teaching. I feel pretty good at school, pretty natural, pretty in-my-element considering we haven't even cracked a textbook yet. I did hand most the textbooks out, though. I wasn't planning to until tomorrow, but I got ahead of my plan, and it felt good. I'm still trying to get to know the kids and learn how to take attendance.
At the end of the day, I sat over my lesson planner and tried to gather my thoughts. It is Thursday, a marching band day. On Tuesday, Jon's first day of school, I didn't even have students yet, but I didn't get home until after he had gone to marching band practice. Today I called him at about 3:30.
Yes, he was going to a sectional, early. He would be gone before 4:30. I still had lessons to plan. By the time I finished and drove the thirty minutes home, there would be no way I would see him.
My throat caught as I tried to stay upbeat on the phone. "Are you finding good, nutritious stuff to eat before you go? I miss you, Buddy." A tear rolled down my cheek and I grabbed a tissue out of the box on my desk, a box donated for extra credit which I need to figure out how to enter into the computer grading system. I am keeping meticulous paper records.
I held my breath and tried not to let him know his dumb mom was falling apart.
"Yeah," he told me, "and I'm going to the gym with Dave after practice."
"Well, stop by at home and say hi to me," I somehow squeaked out with a modicum of composure.
Hanging up, I gave the tissue a real workout, holding my breath, hoping not to make a sound. There were people in the hall, and my door was propped open for air.
Good grief. He is 17 years old. How do moms do this with their little babies?
Maybe it's because they aren't on the last year before the child leaves for (possibly) ever.
I like teaching. I feel pretty good at school, pretty natural, pretty in-my-element considering we haven't even cracked a textbook yet. I did hand most the textbooks out, though. I wasn't planning to until tomorrow, but I got ahead of my plan, and it felt good. I'm still trying to get to know the kids and learn how to take attendance.
At the end of the day, I sat over my lesson planner and tried to gather my thoughts. It is Thursday, a marching band day. On Tuesday, Jon's first day of school, I didn't even have students yet, but I didn't get home until after he had gone to marching band practice. Today I called him at about 3:30.
Yes, he was going to a sectional, early. He would be gone before 4:30. I still had lessons to plan. By the time I finished and drove the thirty minutes home, there would be no way I would see him.
My throat caught as I tried to stay upbeat on the phone. "Are you finding good, nutritious stuff to eat before you go? I miss you, Buddy." A tear rolled down my cheek and I grabbed a tissue out of the box on my desk, a box donated for extra credit which I need to figure out how to enter into the computer grading system. I am keeping meticulous paper records.
I held my breath and tried not to let him know his dumb mom was falling apart.
"Yeah," he told me, "and I'm going to the gym with Dave after practice."
"Well, stop by at home and say hi to me," I somehow squeaked out with a modicum of composure.
Hanging up, I gave the tissue a real workout, holding my breath, hoping not to make a sound. There were people in the hall, and my door was propped open for air.
Good grief. He is 17 years old. How do moms do this with their little babies?
Maybe it's because they aren't on the last year before the child leaves for (possibly) ever.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Anniversary Trip -- Day 5
OK. I know I have to stop blogging, but it seems abrupt to stop in the middle of our Zion Park trip. I know this is probably not interesting to anybody besides us, but I am on a mission to finish what I started. Or perhaps I am procrastinating.
Anyway, Day 5 dawned bright and early, because we had scheduled a Canyon Adventure. Our guide, Zach, picked us up promptly at 7 a.m. Yes, we were on vacation.
I will, for the most part, let the pictures speak for themselves.
Here, Zach is getting the ropes ready to go. He was very careful, and I trusted him. He and Shawn were dressed the same, which can get confusing in the pictures. Shawn is the one in a protective hat. Zach did not wear a protective hat.
Here I had to jump. It was probably the hardest part of the whole adventure. I was fine as long as I could use leg strength, but when shoulder strength was required, my bum shoulders messed me up. We had to fill out a health questionnaire before we started, but it only asked about things like high blood pressure and diabetes, not faulty rotator cuffs. So I just didn't say anything and tried to be a good sport. At this point, after I jumped, I did experience a bit of blinding pain, which I silently sucked up. Afterwards, when nobody was looking, I lifted the arnica out of Shawn's fanny pack and spread a bunch around my collar bones.
I have to be honest, the farther down I went, the more anxious I became about how difficult the climb back up would be at the end. But the trail at the opposite end of the canyon wasn't bad at all! I cruised up that path, hand over hand.
We are so tough! I tell you, I was very proud of myself at the end of this adventure!
Later, I was floating in the pool at the lodge when Shawn told me he thought he'd lost his credit card. While I cruised around in an inner-tube, he retraced our steps from the day (we'd gone into the park after our canyon climb), and he actually got the card back because somebody had turned it in to the ranger station.
It makes you feel so good to have a day like that, sort of builds your faith in humanity, or in Utah Mormons, or something. Maybe this is a sign from God to me that I should vote for Mitt Romney.
Anyway, Day 5 dawned bright and early, because we had scheduled a Canyon Adventure. Our guide, Zach, picked us up promptly at 7 a.m. Yes, we were on vacation.
I will, for the most part, let the pictures speak for themselves.
This is where the canyon opened into the ground.
Yepper. That silhouette is ME.
Later, I was floating in the pool at the lodge when Shawn told me he thought he'd lost his credit card. While I cruised around in an inner-tube, he retraced our steps from the day (we'd gone into the park after our canyon climb), and he actually got the card back because somebody had turned it in to the ranger station.
It makes you feel so good to have a day like that, sort of builds your faith in humanity, or in Utah Mormons, or something. Maybe this is a sign from God to me that I should vote for Mitt Romney.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Hope to be in contact later...
I will write again some day.
Maybe.
In the meantime, we've encountered a serious family illness that I do not yet have permission to discuss. No, it is not AIDS... don't worry.
Little Schubert had a tumor removed and biopsied, but yesterday we found out that it's benign, so that's good.
I got a job teaching English at the local private Christian school. This may signal the end of my blogging days. My kids tell me that teachers can't have blogs. At least, not this type of blog. Teachers can have teacher blogs and post assignments and all that jazz. Teachers can't core dump their deep feelings on-line, though. Yes, it makes sense.
Jonathan has pneumonia. (He is not the one with the illness I'm calling serious. He has a Z-pack that he will finish on Saturday.)
Shawn is in the process of moving Laura back to college, and I needed to stay home to prepare for other things.
And that's just the big stuff. Well, most of the big stuff.
So, there is a lot to do, and a lot to pray about.
If you are up for praying, please pray particularly for Jonathan on Friday and Saturday. Also, please pray for my sick family member who will undergo a third surgery on 8-17-12.
Thank you.
Maybe.
In the meantime, we've encountered a serious family illness that I do not yet have permission to discuss. No, it is not AIDS... don't worry.
Little Schubert had a tumor removed and biopsied, but yesterday we found out that it's benign, so that's good.
I got a job teaching English at the local private Christian school. This may signal the end of my blogging days. My kids tell me that teachers can't have blogs. At least, not this type of blog. Teachers can have teacher blogs and post assignments and all that jazz. Teachers can't core dump their deep feelings on-line, though. Yes, it makes sense.
Jonathan has pneumonia. (He is not the one with the illness I'm calling serious. He has a Z-pack that he will finish on Saturday.)
Shawn is in the process of moving Laura back to college, and I needed to stay home to prepare for other things.
And that's just the big stuff. Well, most of the big stuff.
So, there is a lot to do, and a lot to pray about.
If you are up for praying, please pray particularly for Jonathan on Friday and Saturday. Also, please pray for my sick family member who will undergo a third surgery on 8-17-12.
Thank you.
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