Archive for September, 2011


They made me glow

Davy and I went to a double feature last night. We do this every now and then, with no shame or guilt. We had the best time last night because we saw two incredible movies. Go see them! I was inspired.




I think they might be the two best movies I will see all year. They were different, but both were hopeful and filled with rich emotions and characters who inspire.

I was glowing after the movies. It is sad I love movies that much. If you see them – Tell me if you like them or not.


my pasta might dry up

I am lit.

I mean I am lit from within.

A fire is brewing.

It has been for awhile.

I am simmering.

I have had some exchanges with others that have made me think more about education.

A reporter called to talk to me.

I missed him and we still haven’t connected.

I am thriving in my new job.

I have been scribbling some non-sensical thoughts about education here and there.

And some of them are starting to make me wonder more…

Can I do something more?

Am I passionate about students

and the state of education

simply to serve the students?

or is there something more I can do, or can start to think about?

I am simmering, not mad.

Like a pot of pasta, ready to feed a family

with truly filling ideas and questions

My mind is bubbling over right now.

It is exciting, and a little messy.

I don’t know long I can simmer for, because if I wait too long,

the water will dry up and my ideas will be left to harden.

Just pray for me.

Or think of me, if you aren’t inclined to pray.

and the people that lead me, and that I bump  into.

And where do I go with this?

That maybe I would have some clarity on what to do with this evaporating pot of hope.


notes to self

11 year olds can be exhausting

11 year olds have no filter

teaching private school is nice

parents are really interested in their children

the world is interesting

so glad I get to teach something current

teaching a new subject is like learning to ride a bike

it takes work and patience

I love my students

they might love me too much

my own kids are growing fast

press pause right now

we recorded their height on the door

they have already grown

Cherish them now

Skip the workout sometimes

just to snuggle at home

Read your Bible a little more

It is encouraging

Read about others too

It takes you a world away

Blogging is good

but living is better

Worry less

It will all take care of itself

Love others more

That is what matters

write more notes to self



I love these people

After finishing the last book I read, the Help, those characters are bouncing around in this head of mine. I am loving them dearly and admiring them and admonishing them. I loved those characters. Skeeter, Aibileen, and Minny.

I really got to thinking a bit after finishing this book. I thought about the books I’ve read and the people I’ve met. Somewhere, deep within me, I have a whole host of friends conceived simply from the minds of great writers. But these characters are so much more than characters to me. They become role models, friends, those I sympathize with, and those I hurt for.

These people who I now know, are in a way, a family to me. They live lives of heartbreak and conviction. They teach me to be brave. Or to be silent. Or to be generous. Or thoughtful.

They are dear to me. Is that crazy?

And I think of them often. When I am in a tough spot, or I need some insight, or I see something that reminds me of where they are from. They have taught me much.

I can’t always remember their names, but I always remember their faces and stories. I wish I knew all their names.

There was the pilot’s wife. Her story was one of the most heart-wrenching that I have read. (The Pilot’s Wife)

And there was the good squad, those people are crazy and wise at the same time. (Welcome to the Goon Squad)

There was the villagers in the Hudson Bay who engaged me by simply living their lives outside the bounds of modern society. (Conception)

There was the missionaries in Africa, whose lives were ripped apart by their faith, Africa, and family. Oh boy, do I think I want to talk to them today. (The Poisonwood Bible)

There was the husband of the suicide bomber, who I cried for because he was so betrayed.  (The Swallows of Kabul)

There was the physician who I think needs a friend, because she was so blinded by her guilt that she couldn’t see the writing on the wall. (Oxygen)

There was the young house maid in Israel, who lived her life with such dignity that she became an example of what Christ stood for the times of the early church (The Mark of the Lion Series)

There was a woman with dreams like me who swam across many oceans just because she could (Swimming to Antarctica)

There was the young man I want to have dinner with, the young man who tells the best stories I have heard, and who redeems all those around him with a love that could only come from deep within (The Tender Bar)

There was the young man whose hand I want to shake and thank and ask all sorts of questions about what it’s like to fight in a foreign land. (Lone Survivor)

There is the woman I think I might know, who I think I would laugh with and cry with because she is silly and obstinate just like me. And because she also knows the true meaning of home. (Just Don’t Call Me Ma’m)

There is the African refugee whose stories broke my heart, and whose eyes I want to shield from any more injustice. (Little Bee)

There is the woman who lived a childhood so wild and free that I wonder how she got where she is today. And I want to ask her what she misses most about those days of freedom. (The Glass Castle)

The woman on the farm is also someone I spend time with. I think of her often when I think of how I want to live. Simply. (The Dirty Life)

I think of the little girl who had nothing and took nothing when she was called to slavery in India. She needs a mother. She needs a friend. She needs an education. (Sold)

And then there is the woman who began her life with little, and through her physical beauty, became a woman of great reputation. She was loyal to her favorite person only to realize that she had never been further from that same loved one. Why she couldn’t just accept her loved one as she was? That is the question I ask her. (Snow Flower and the Secret Fan)

The woman who went to Belize to help her child is a woman that I can truly sympathize with. I think she’s crazy and brave and thoughtful. And I think she found something there. I think she found hope. She gives me hope. (The Possibility of Everything)

And the young girl and old man, searching for love together. Unlikely friends. They inspired with their honesty and innocence. (The History of Love)

And the young writer in a tough place, in a tough time, who really teaches me about writing and true journalism. (I Lost My Love in Baghdad)

The young girl in search of a mother love who found her home with an unlikely family, she is a girl that I want to know and play with. I want to run through the creek with her and have her ask me questions. I love that girl. She needs love. (The Secret Life of Bees)

And then there is me. I haven’t written a story, and I’m not in one.

But I have one. And I pray that it is a sliver of hope to someone out there.

I love stories. I love them so much that I realized I had to talk about them here.

Thanks for listening.



I am finally reading The Help. I resisted and resisted, but have finally started the book. And I am enjoying it. The reason for my resistance was that I heard some mixed press on the book itself. I knew it was readable and also that it appeals to many readers for numerous reasons. But, like the movie a few years back, The Blind Side, and the book, Same Kind of Different Than Me, I also knew that the book was treading upon a story possibly meant to be told by a different person. Is it fair to tell a story that is not really yours to tell? Or to paint the heroes, or the means of salvation, as a white woman or family?

I wasn’t sure before I started the book, if I felt that it was fair that Ms. Stockett tell the stories of the help in the pages of her novel. Especially after reading that she used the name and possibly story of her extended family’s maid without permission… but regardless, the story is told, and it is a huge success.

But I hadn’t even given thought about the types of white stereotypes the book perpetuates until I read this just the other day.

I am enjoying the book. It makes me a little nervous though. If this is the closest I can get to hearing the stories of black women growing up in the Jim Crow era South, is this really close?

I think I am nervous about the fact that this will be some people’s truth. As told by a white woman who had her own help growing up.

Is that really the person who should be telling this story?

Just a question…



Texas is starved for rain. The Earth is literally cracking open. Or as seen below, being consumed by flame. Bastrop is beloved by many for it’s State Park, and the beautiful forests that typify the area. Now, that area is gone, engulfed by flames. People are losing their livelihoods, even their lives. The drought, in my opinion, is becoming a natural disaster of epic proportions.

“It is the worst fire season in the history of Texas,” said Justice Jones, a spokesman for the forest service, “and Sunday was the worst fire day in the state’s history in regards to home losses.”


all’s fair in love and war

These people really hate each other. I feel that now, more than ever, our political leaders in Washington truly hate each other.

Have you heard the drama over President Obama’s jobs speech? I mean he hasn’t even given the speech if that gives you an idea of how deep seated the resentment is. Read more about it  here and here.

Oh my goodness though… this is going to be another interesting political year.

I am finding myself already drawn into this year’s campaign – on both sides.

I will be honest, I am not a Rick Perry fan. I am a fairly independently minded voter, but I feel strongly about this candidate.

To go into detail now is not possible, those posts may lay in waiting. But I have my reasons.

This satire below cracked me up. This is how it seems to be at times with some of these crazy right wingers. (And just so you know, I am not talking all  Republicans…)

For a little laugh, unless you are crazy right wing, read here.

Books that made an impact

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