one quick pic please?

It's a question we all love to ponder. What if.... on one glorious Wednesday or Saturday night... say around nine oclock or so..... I became a gazillionare? What if I actually won the Powerball?  Oh what fun it is to think about the possibilities......more fun than winning? I wouldn't know, but I doubt it.

So, what would I do with 176 Million dollars -0r half that after taxes?(Damn Uncle Sam - only 88Million dollars?? I guess I'd survive). What would I do...... let's imagine....

1. I'd pay off every single bill I have..... mortgage, school loan, etc.....

2. I'd pay off every single bill my parent's have.

3.I'd pay off every single bill my in laws have.

4. I'd take five million of it and put in an acct with a great interest rate (might be hard to find right now) so that my kids will have that no matter what.

5. I'd take my mom to Italy.... she's always wanted to go. A good month should do. No plans. Just plane tickets and a map.

6.  I'd take my sister on a trip to Disney - her idea of heaven. We'd stay for a few weeks and have character breakfasts each morning. We'd do anything she wanted to do.

7. I'd buy my brother the fastest old school camaro I could find. I would write him in Iraq and tell him I have a big surpise, but I'd keep the secret until he came home next year.

8. I'd buy my parent's a house that was big enough to have my sister and my nana live with them.

9. I'd pay for 24 hour one on one staff for my sister.

10. I'd would give all my close friends enough money so they never have to think of money again.

11. I would donate a chunk to the public school system where I work so a new high school could finally be built.

12. I would quit my job. 

13. I would urge my husband to do the same.

14. I would stay in our little two bedroom house and travel the world. Who needs a mansion when you are only two people and  dog?

15. I would donate a chunk to Crossroads - a local homeless group - to build or finance a new shelter.

16. I would sit back and relax.

17. I would take life one day at a time.

18. I would be more generous than I could ever imagine - hopefully.

19. On a weekly basis, I would go to a public spot and watch for people being randomly kind to others. Then, I would walk up and give those people some cash. That might be it.  Oh, wait.

20. I'd have at least six kids.... at least.... if money is not an object... nothing beats a big family. My husband might take some convincing, but I bet he'd come around.  Maybe we will need a bigger house...

I'm sure it wouldn't be this easy.... but man, I'd love the challenge. 

Wouldn't you?

sick day

This happens to me every year. No matter how many vitamin C tablets I take or how many times I wash my hands, I get sick.  Just one of the many joys of being a teacher.

However, I must admit..... despite the fact that I have a fever, the chills, and have gone thru a role of toilet paper blowing my nose.... I do, in some strange way, like being sick.  Guilt free days in bed are few and far between. Being genuinely sick allows me to rest because I really need it.  I do not do this enough. I don't think any adult really does.

So, this morning after I wrestled with the idea of missing a day of work - "what will the kids do without me?  Will this mess up my whole master schedule? What about those kids that were coming for edits today?" - I finally checked my OCD and remembered that I am not a brain surgeon. If the papers wait one more day to be corrected, nobody will die. If we don't read A General History of Virginia until Thursday, the world will not end.  If I take a sick day within the first month of school, that doesn't mean I'm not professional.

Fortunately, my life is not that serious. 

And you know what, I actually feel better. Yeah.... resting actually works. Imagine that? Still a little feverish and stuffed up.... but I'll live. Thanks to several tropical Popsicles, five cans of ginger ale, and a husband who takes very good care of me.... much to my students' chagrin, I will be back at work tomorrow.  

I guess I'm just really grateful to be able to recuperate when I'm sick.  When I was a student and sick, I would lay on the couch, watch Little House on the Prairie, and doze in and out of sleep with no guilt for not being a part of the world outside.  Getting the occasional work related illness allows me to do this as an adult. And while I don't want to be sick again anytime soon, I'm glad that I had this day of rest... this "sick day".  We should all take these kinds of days when we need them.. Am I sick because I like being sick? Maybe...... but I will return to work physically and mentally rested.

are they serious?

Do republicans really think women are that stupid?  I know this is kind of old news, but I just can't help myself.

After watching Sarah Palin's interview with Charlie Gibson, I am sure of it. She is a pick to satisfy the extreme right, and she is an attempt to win over women voters.  I'm hoping that everyone else that saw the interview realized how practiced yet vacuous her comments and replies were.

Her gender has nothing to do with it. She is not the best person for the vice presidency or - heaven help us - the presidency.  Inexperienced, vapid, and scarily ready to do what anyone in the McCain campaign tells her to do.

Pass the word. Vote for candidates that protect all of our civil liberties ( not just the ones that benefit them - like the second amendment because she likes to kill animals). Vote for candidates that can set aside their personal theological views and make good decisions for a diverse demographic.  Vote for candidates that have the guts to be idealistic after eight years of illogical and criminal leadership. Vote for hope. Vote for a return to the democratic process. Vote for real change. Vote for Obama and Biden.

Just another day

The guy across the street is mowing his lawn. My elderly neighbor is yelling for his cat - who happens to be named Kitty - to come in the house.  Having just returned from an exhausting day at work, I sit down and stare out the window.

It is really difficult to believe that seven years ago today I was, the world was, in complete shock.  It was my second year teaching, and I was working with my freshmen class in the library.  In a moment of downtime, I jumped on a computer to check the morning news.  Half awake and half paying attention to the students working next to me, I saw a scroll that mentioned a plane flying into the WTC.  My first reaction was not strong. In fact, thinking about it now, I was calm. Surely this must have been a two or three person recreational flight.  In the time it took me to log off the computer and walk to the other side of the library, the truth became clear.

I need not explain the rest.  Everyone remembers where they were or what they were doing when the news became real. Though the entire day seems to be in slow motion, there are two details that stand out in my mind.  Driving home from work, I was listening to AM radio which I never do.  At all the stop lights, I looked around for some confirmation from others that this was actually happening.  Since then, whenever I listen to talk radio a small part of me weeps inside.  The second detail I recall is lying in bed that night and listening for any noise from the sky at all. A plane flying above was a sound that usually disappeared in the hustle and bustle of other worldly noises. Not on that night. Not ever again.

My brother left for Iraq last week. He joined the Navy Reserves a few years ago.  Though I thought that I knew fear after September 11, 2001 -- I now understand on another level.  This is now much more personal than it ever was.  

And yet, I don't feel anger.  I don't want revenge. What I feel is the need for peace. Peace within and Peace without.

I love my brother and support his wishes, and I am proud of him for defending our country. Gratitude and appreciation are words that just do not do my emotions justice.  

So, while I sit at home looking out my window, and my neighbor mows his lawn, I will listen to the everyday noises that have become normal again.  Thankful for the everyday graces that I am allowed to experience, I remember those that died seven years ago today. Hopeful for a future that includes peace and respect, I think of my brother.  Exhausted from a long day, I am grateful to be alive.

My sister....

My sister was eighteen months when she finally came home.  Her first seventeen months were spent in an orphanage.  Fetal alcohol syndrome, cerebal palsy, and mental retardation are just a few of the labels that have been placed upon her since birth.  However, when she finally came home on that day in 1982, the only name that mattered was Kim.

I remember the car ride from the adoption agency with strange clarity.  This new being was seated in the center of the back seat. Her car seat elevated her above my eye level, and I remember thinking -at five years old - that there was something strange about the fact that she was "higher up".  I just stared at her. She was not yet verbal - the doctors weren't sure she would be. She had a funny looking white cast on her leg - part of the effort to correct her feet from turning inward almost ninety degrees.  Her hair was dirty blond and curly, and she just sat there. She just looked forward with a hint of a smile on her face.

My mom turned around periodically to glance at her, as if to make sure she was real.  About half way home, my mom questioned, "so, what should we name her?"  My dad muttered something inaudible to me in my back seat position, and my mom shook her head in disagreement.  Then I said it. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but the voice came out of my mouth. "Her name is and should be Kim. That is all she has. We don't have a right to take that from her."

I recall my mother's astonishment at my answer, but what I remember more vividly is my dad's eyes in the rearview mirror. A seriously serious man, I knew that he approved of my comment. So, Kim it was. Kim it is. 

If the doctor's could see her now they may not believe she is the same "Kim".  She has surpassed everyone's expectations and continues to do so. She swims. She runs. She talks. She laughs. She jokes..... She does everything that they said she probably wouldn't.  

I try to see her at least once a week. I try. It doesn't always happen - sometimes my fault- sometimes her's.  This small coffer in my chest is reserved for the guilt I feel when I don't spend enough time with her.  

So when I'm lucky enough to have two full days with her like I just did..... I realize how lucky I am to have her. We went away for night with my mom - girls escape. Nothing too exciting - just a hotel, pool, dinner, gambling. But Kim's energy and joie de vive is contagious.  From the moment we pick her up until the moment we drop her off, she is content and grateful. She is overjoyed by the smallest gesture. 

It scares me to even write it, but I know she won't be around forever. Maybe that is why I have always appreciated her so much. Talk about perspective. I think I have problems, and then I see the way she lives her life - not thinking about it - just living it. With joy and love. It's that simple.

She'll never read this because she can't read. And if I read it to her, she would lose interest because I am way too verbose for her taste.  But I need to say it anyway. If even one person reads this...... well... I just need to write it. I need to send it out to the universe. It will be more real.

Kimmy, I love you.  You give my life meaning and balance. You provide a perspective that is genuine and unique. And though you will never experience life in a "normal" way, your existence is extraordinary.  And though those who don't know you may see you as disabled, I will always - just like the first day on the car ride home - consider you "higher up" than me.  You are certainly the closest to anything divine that I know.

So, here goes nothing.  I've wanted to get back to writing for so long. I just was never really sure how to go about it.  Write a book? Too ambitious? A collection of short stories? Maybe. A screen play? Maybe in retirement. What to do now?

When I wasn't even thinking about it the answer arrived. My friend was showing me her good friend's blog.  Of course.  How simple.  So, here goes nothing.

I can't really say that my perspective is original. I am a married thirtysomething. I have a house, a dog, two cars. My career is fulfilling. Friends are incredible. Family is.... well family.  My life from the outside must seem pretty ordinary.  But somewhere deep down inside I still have this feeling that I have something to say. For some reason, despite my ultra common exterior, my interior is screaming to be heard. My heart and my head tell me that I won't be complete until my words are out.  It doesn't really matter if one person or a million people read them. The fact that they are out in some fashion is more cathartic than words can express.  The excitement I feel from pounding my fingertips on the unforgiving keyboard is unmatched.  

So, though it is 8:30..... and I am usually getting ready for bed.... instead I am attempting to complete my first post.

And there it is. Not quite as good as it could be but a start nonetheless. Not quite a masterpiece but a piece of what I want to say.  Just a record of my perspective. Just a rant of my thoughts. Just a view from my corner of the world.