tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17835999605874801802024-03-05T23:54:40.224-05:00"Ing"The blog of doing, reading, cooking, growing, watching, creating, thinking, being, and many, many more "ings".alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-28620537963312081602013-08-24T21:12:00.001-04:002013-08-24T22:04:02.364-04:00being surprised by joy, and a job! <p dir=ltr>Life has been crazy. Crazier than it's ever been or that I could have ever imagined it could be. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I found a job! I am working for the <a href="http://icanschools.org/default.aspx">ICAN</a> Schools network at Akron Preparatory School teaching th<u>e</u> fourth grade. All subjects! Ah!</p>
<p dir=ltr>We are a start up school in the network. Brand new. Lots of brand new teachers. This has meant long hours, weird circumstances, and lots of the wonderful (but stressful) chaos that comes with all new beginnings. I can't even begin to tell you.</p>
<p dir=ltr>I have never, (never, never, never) been so exhausted and overwhelmed in my life. </p>
<p dir=ltr>But I have also never (never, never, never) been overthrown by the amount of joy, surprise and delight I'm experiencing.  I drive to work (an hour commute!) and sometimes literally laugh out loud at the surprise that this is really my life. I'm doing it.The thing I set out to do. But never in the way I expected. Me? A sometimes soft spoken, T-county girl, teaching in inner city Akron? How can that be? It can't be possible that this is right?</p>
<p dir=ltr>This was never in the plan. Its been the the most difficult, but the most wonderful thing I've ever done. I'm humbled and overjoyed by the grace of it all. I get to be a part of something good, and new, and beautiful. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I work with families who somehow trust me and my co-workers. They look at us with all the hope and trust in the world. It terrifies, motivates, surprises, and delights my heart. All of those things, at once. Its almost too much joy for one person.  How can I be so exhausted and so happy all at once?</p>
<p dir=ltr>So, somewhere, in all of this chaos and exhaustion, I'm trying to hold onto this. This precious delight. This knowing that I'm a part of something. Something that is rare and good and difficult. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I hope I don't let go of this ability to let life surprise me. It is wild, and I go forward with all the white knuckled terror of someone new at this, but with hope. With the knowing that this is it. These are those rare and wonderful moments in life that we wait for. This is my moment that matters.</p>
<p dir=ltr><i>You can have the other words-chance, luck, coincidence, serendipity. I'll take grace. I don't know what it is exactly, but I'll take it.— Mary Oliver</i></p>
alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-36985956863967211272013-08-06T11:43:00.003-04:002013-08-06T15:06:51.157-04:00 10 things I've learned from running and job huntingThis summer has mostly been filled with these two things: job hunting, and running. I've learned a great deal from both. <br />
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Here are some of the lessons (some harder learned than others) that I've come away with.<br />
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1. <b>Just get up and get going.</b> There will be a lot of days when you don't feel like it, but I promise, if you just peel yourself out of bed, get dressed, and start moving, the rest will come.<br />
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2. <b>Some days you will feel like you are absolutely crushing it. </b>Your mile time will be better than ever, or you will have more leads than you know what to do with. Live in this moment. It might not last forever, but its a good feeling.<br />
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3. <b>Some days you will feel like it is absolutely crushing you. </b> These days are the worst. When putting one foot in front of the other seems impossible, and you want cry and scream and give up. Its okay to do the first two things on the list (in the privacy of your own home, preferably), not the third.<br />
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4. <b>Laugh at yourself. </b>This is important. Some days you may fall flat on your face. Its better just to laugh. If that doesn't work and you have to cry, that's okay too. Do it.<br />
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5. <b>Some days you will get hurt or even just very tired, take the time you need to rest and let it heal. </b>This is so much easier said than done, at least for me. Running on an injury only makes it worse and only requires more time on the bench. This one takes discipline, learn it.<br />
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6. <b>Don't forget to enjoy the view from right where you are.</b>You may only pass this way once. Look around, there are some really great things you might be missing while on your journey forward. While you're climbing the hill, take in the view from the top before you charge on to the next. Take a deep breath. Look around.<br />
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7. <b>Enjoy the success of others. </b>Some people might be faster than you or farther along than you.<b> </b>This is a hard pill to swallow, but in the end its not just better for them, but for you. Life is much more pleasant when you are happy for people rather than mad. <i>Much</i>.more.pleasant.<br />
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8. <b>Not everyone will understand you. Deal with it. </b>There will be times when you are thought crazy, or weird, or whatever else, the list could go on. You may be running in the rain, or the heat, and people won't get it. But the truth is, you're out there. And that's something.<br />
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9. <b>You'll get there eventually. </b>This is my least favorite. It requires patience, of which I've learned I have very little, but it's true. You really will get there eventually.<br />
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10. <b>Don't give up. </b>This will be tempting. And you may even claim to yourself on some days that you are in fact giving up, but don't. Keep on keeping on. Even on a slow day, you're still moving forward. Remember why you started int he first place. That helps.<br />
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That's it. They are simple, and maybe a little lame, but they are getting me through. Happy Tuesday! Keep on keeping on!alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-89043824926568383962013-07-02T11:57:00.002-04:002013-07-02T12:01:06.403-04:00something you can do when your soul (or mine) just can't take one.more.thing.Last week was the worst. Really, the worst. It was a four-job rejections-in-one-week-some-for-reasons-beyond-my-control-and-some-for-the-worst-reason-of-all-that-is-I-fell-flat-on-my-face-because-I-was-too-afraid-and-blew-an-opportunity-sky-high kind of week. It was one of those week when just when I felt I really couldn't take one more thing before I crumbled and fell into a pile of tears or despair or worse, apathy--one more thing seemed to keep happening. I was tired, heavy, and shell-shocked by it all. Maybe I took it all a bit too personally, but I've discovered that that is the way of things for me. Things affect me.<br />
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So what does one do? I didn't know, and really nobody does in that moment. How do you put back the pieces of your own confidence and find a way to move forward? I didn't know. I didn't even want to know (I think this is okay sometimes). So, I read. I just picked up a book and let everything just sit heavy on my shoulders as I read. Quietly passing time in pages rather than minutes.<br />
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This sound like a small thing. It wasn't. I remembered the healing power of fiction, of stories, to restore our soul and to slowly bring life back and to move it forward in some unspoken way.<br />
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I read the <i>Life of Pi</i>. I had started it ages ago. A student wanted to read it, and even though I wasn't finished, I could tell how badly he wanted to read it, and just gave it to him. I never saw that copy of it again. I have since seen him around, I think he loved it as much as I did. That is a bond worth all the lost books in the world. He and I shared that story.<br />
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I am glad that life made me wait until now to finish it though. It was the exact book that I needed to read at this exact moment in my life. It talked about fear, and losing, and winning, and hope, and grief, and holding on, and fighting for things with your very soul, and then being forced to let them go. Oh, I cannot tell you what it meant it to me. The writing was beautiful. The story moved slowly and that's just what I needed as well--a slow moving, soul searching story. The kind that turns you inside out.<br />
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Good fiction works itself out hard and beautiful in the painstaking details, and often before we even know it, we are changed. It helps us to be unafraid, it helps us to lie low, and to listen, and to wait--goodness is always on the horizon. In it we can find courage, or rest, or joy, or cathartic pain. It will bring us what we need at that moment.<br />
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So when your soul cannot take even one more thing, or when you are afraid and cannot take one more step, maybe just start by turning one more page. In it you will find hope, you will find motion, and a slow steady momentum. And when you are finally ready to lift your head from the pages and face reality again, you may find that your spirit has been strengthened to hold on, or let go, or fight, or give up, or whatever it is you needed the strength to do.<br />
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So even though nothing in the world seems to have worked out in a way I would have guessed or wanted, I am least reminded of the salvation that can be found in a good piece of fiction. Sometimes we fight our fears quietly, and in the pages of book and not out in world. Sometimes it is the power of stories that see us through.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><i>“I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It begins in your mind, always ... so you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.”</i> </span><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/811.Yann_Martel" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Yann Martel</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1392700" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Life of Pi</a></span></i><br />
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<i><br /></i>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-39125514977738262652013-06-22T11:59:00.003-04:002013-06-27T07:35:00.587-04:00bringing the boat in at night...<p dir="ltr">You start out gliding through glass.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Quiet, just you, under a wide, full moon, rising over the dark waters. Dimly lighting the way.</p>
<p dir="ltr">There are lights, others, like you, drifting with some purpose in mind.<br>
Sometimes you can't tell how far or close they really are. </p>
<p dir="ltr">The trick is to not try to see too far ahead. To see what's right there.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Stay centered, and bring her safely in.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It takes a special kind of vigilance,</p>
<p dir="ltr">keeping your eye on the shore lights but still right on ahead,</p>
<p dir="ltr">watching for stray buoys, or logs, settled in the silent night waters.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Then the shore lights near a little,<br>
Specks on the horizon, growing bolder, hailing you to a safe place.</p>
<p dir="ltr">But it will still take longer than you thought. </p>
<p dir="ltr">You'll start to wonder in the black if you really saw what you thought. If that is the shore you wanted? <br>
Or was it a ways back? If you are really moving towards dry ground. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Stable and solid.<br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">But you must see it through. You must trust what you knew of this place in the brilliant light of day. </p>
<p dir="ltr">When sky and shore and water were all so distinct. </p>
<p dir="ltr">You must move inch by inch through the depths. For eventually the shore will near and you will find yourself tied sturdily off on a dock. </p><p dir="ltr">You're feet firmly on the ground.<br><br></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwgEU42ReFwmXvw2dXNLTrmQ1B3Q9yoohzh-0zL8n_ZEicyu6lL_E5pSicxQzyPim_1npMWBS-lVusiHskv7P98gkZ2aMhyphenhyphenpgSlpsFe9ZoQ8D5940Tz5n88lMKel3Mc6zEpbdVJ1o6XXz/s1600/20130621_212627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOwgEU42ReFwmXvw2dXNLTrmQ1B3Q9yoohzh-0zL8n_ZEicyu6lL_E5pSicxQzyPim_1npMWBS-lVusiHskv7P98gkZ2aMhyphenhyphenpgSlpsFe9ZoQ8D5940Tz5n88lMKel3Mc6zEpbdVJ1o6XXz/s640/20130621_212627.jpg"> </a> </div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-51434357800330323112013-06-07T16:12:00.001-04:002013-06-26T07:48:02.112-04:00findING a job, but mostly finding something else even betterLately life has been this combination of opportunity and disappointment. Sometimes it looks something like hope and other days it smacks of despair. Transitions have always been tough for me. There are days they feel adventurous, like something lovely on the horizon about peek its head over the hills, all light and goodness. Then there are days when its all so terrifying, and I curl my toes and dig my heels firmly into a steady soil, resistant to change. Resistant to the unknown.<br />
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Oh, the unknown. And that is just it. Life is hazy right now. I don't know what life will look like in the next few months, or the next year, or the next five. And really, who knows any of that about life to begin with?<br />
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For me, all this comes in the form of starting a career. Which, never did I expect it to be this way. I never thought it would matter so much. But it has to me. And in this whole process I learn. I learn to move forward and to be confident. I learn to take it on the chin when life seems unfair. I learn to keep spinning my wheels, because I won't know right away where they are going. I learn that I can be ugly and jealous and petty. But that I can overcome it and learn to be happy, so very happy for others. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Sometimes</span>.<br />
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And of course I learn grace. This has been the most wonderful. That in these waves of hope and despair. Storms of my own emotions or disappointment. I can rest. I am learning the most delicious thing about grace and it's that there is always enough for me. It never ever ever runs out. Ever! Did you hear me? While that is just about enough to surge joy right through anyone, it gets better. Since grace never runs out for me, there is always enough for giving. I am finding that by receiving grace upon grace upon endless, endless grace. I can give it fearlessly. I can give it with abandon, knowing that the stores will never run dry. The dam has already broken and it runs wild. We are all already swept away in it. That even when life <i>feels </i>graceless, when <i>I</i> feel graceless and run ragged and raw by the blows of life, there is still more than enough. It was never really my own grace to give anyway. Which is what makes it so great for giving away.<br />
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All of this to say, after posts like <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2010/09/filtering.html">this</a> or <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2012/06/filtering-and-figuring-it-out-part-2.html">this</a> grace finally caught up with me. Which I guess isn't really right, it was always there, its just a matter of remembering it.<br />
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<br />alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-90042401566942096312013-03-06T13:46:00.002-05:002013-03-06T14:16:11.862-05:00the story of shearing dayUp at 5:30 to pile on layers and layers of mismatched winter-wear. Long johns, jeans, sweater upon sweater, hats and scarves. A little while later she arrives and I hop into the car. Bleary-eyed, but quietly wild with anticipation, we hit a drive-through for some coffee and a quick a breakfast sandwich. After all, who has time to make breakfast on a big day like this?<br />
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A freeway and a few curving country roads later we arrive and step out into the cold. The farm is on a hill so the bitter chill of winter weather (still? it's March) swirls around us along with a few stray sparkling flakes. Magic. My heart jumps with excitement as we near the barn. I can hear the sheep bleating, not as gentle as some would think. They are hungry (no food before shearing), they are scared (why are we up and moving already?) and they don't seem to mind speaking their mind. Blurting out call after call.<br />
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It's funny how I love these sort of days but how unaccustomed to them I really am. I clumsily climb over the pen, limb over tangled limb, and introduce myself to Du-Roy, a white Shetland ram. I look at him and my friend unsure of what to do next. She explains to me what "rooing" is. Rooing?<br />
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It is the process of gently pulling away the previous years coat and exposing the new years' coat. The wool is thick, and soft, and greasy with lanolin. (Lanolin is an oil that sheep secrete, and before you cringe in disgust, go read the ingredients on your creams and lotions. Its probably listed.)<br />
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We wait on shearers and get to know the flock. A moving sea of sheep slowly become recognizable faces. There are two brand new lambs to cuddle and make over. Soft and brown. A week old, but already bouncing, skipping, all energy and wool. Their new faces show none of the fear that is written on faces of the others. Red, the English Shepherd keeps his close watch on mom and babies, his eyes shift as we pass the lambs from person to person.<br />
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The shearers finally arrive and the real work begins. There are two quiet young men, tall and lanky, that do the actual shearing. All day their faces shift from the focused scowl of a worker, to the softened smiles of a caretaker. The rest of us are bagging fleeces, sweeping the shearing the stations, handing off the shots and medications for each sheep, and wrangling sheep back into pens.<br />
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Its amazing the differences in sheep personalities. We start with rams, their fleeces so big, you could just roll up in them and sleep warm for days. Rams, for the most part, fought very little. Then the ewes. Some were quiet and calm. They looked uncomfortable, but just seemed to lay back as the wool fell to floor, soft like a cloud. Others though, struggled and bleated and kicked and rolled. It was a wild fight, and sometimes I wonder, who is really winning?<br />
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When it came time for returning sheep to pens, I have things to learn. Some seem to know right where to go. Then there are others. With these, there is plenty of panicking, running, and grabbing, and that's just me. Some sheep bolt past the gate, while others run the opposite direction. A real chase down. Mimosa, a small ewe, standing about a foot and a half off the ground, has me on the ground in a matter of a few seconds. She darts into her pen and we both slowly stand, look at each other, and wonder what just happened. Equally traumatized. With time I am better. Realizing sheep need direction more than force. They need a calming hand, rather than a powerful one. The shearers seem to know this. One of them scoops up the smaller ewes in his arms and carries them gently to the pen himself.<br />
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When the sheep are all shorn and the wool all bagged. The sheep enjoy their new lightness, unfazed by the cold. They scratch and shake, and dance their own noisy freedom dance. They rub against each other, reacquainting themselves with what they mistake to be new pen-mates. (Really, they don't recognize each other now.)<br />
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The llamas are next.<br />
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Octavias (above) and Lucky. Both of which have been aware all day that some part of this would eventually involve them. And they don't seem to like it. The llamas stand and spit, and wobble this way and that, but in the end, they are shorn to, and return to their pens.<br />
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The wool is carried into the garage heaping armload after heaping armload. Bag by bag. Some other day it must be cleaned and carded.<br />
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We say our goodbyes and head home, cold, tired, and smelling of hay and lanolin. But we are happy.<br />
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I arrive home and peel off the many layers in exchange for warm pajamas.<br />
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I am asleep, warm on the couch, in a matter of minutes.<br />
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<br />alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-209364928239287952013-02-06T21:47:00.001-05:002013-02-06T21:56:40.255-05:00learning jazz<div><p dir=ltr><br>
I start out <br>
       clumsy</p>
<p dir=ltr>on the keys<br>
I cLunK andIclutter<br>
on the beat up baby grand in the front room from 1926.<br>
It just doesn't sound right,<br>
doesn't sound the way it should,<br>
Whatever "it" is. </p>
<p dir=ltr>Then with time, <br>
it gets better.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Smoother<br>
Kinder <br>
Calmer</p>
<p dir=ltr>lt runstogethersogoodsoripeandreadytobepickedjuicyandhotandsweetandcool.</p>
<p dir=ltr>And <br>
    Then<br>
         It</p>
<p dir=ltr>Swings </p>
<p dir=ltr>Just like it should<br>
                              Unpredictable</p>
<p dir=ltr>but expected all the same.</p>
<p dir=ltr>It starts to sound like red lipstick, and smooth Scotch, and sweat and smoke that hangs over our heads in some dim seedy club at 2am like our problems hovering over us, <br>
out of sight <br>
out of mind, and pressing down on us thick and heavy all the same. Like us.</p>
<p dir=ltr>With a foggy sigh.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Its there somewhere, it just takes time to find it.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4EoqGlLeb9PjsvzLpAy-mip-Fdr1z9layMbg1_9BjAKwdV4XiICKv5vtnBM0HLEHuhnAYO1-2YBcvcX_6brdC4oGiNbSKnbZwoz3f3YK4MFE0PSaEDyYXilfgqAykS6bQD6e4_fZzqiw/' /></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-37209257050832017072013-02-04T14:28:00.000-05:002013-02-04T14:53:08.495-05:00waiting, snowing, reading, smiling, givingWell, the new year has started off slowly for me. Yes, I realize it's February and I'm talking about New Years. I graduated in December (finally!!!) and have since been waiting on my license to process. Ohio, land of the slow. It's February and I'm still not working. Sigh, its a waiting game, and in a way, winter seems the perfect time to wait.<br />
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I know I've talked about winter and waiting before, or at least winter and resting. I have to be honest, it is about this time of year and when I start to almost physically ache for spring. The snow still falls, and the bitter winds still blow, and we have nothing to do, but wait, and hope.<br />
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With all of my waiting, I have been doing my usual wintertime activities, just in greater abundance. I've been reading like crazy.<br />
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I've started the Harry Potter series. I'm currently on book three <i>The Prisoner of Azkaban</i>. <i> </i> I was reluctant to read these. I had already watched all the movies and wondered if I would be able to keep interest in them. I was wrong. They are fantastic, in the truest sense of the word. I open each new book, sometimes butterflies in my stomach to see how she is going to describe the magical plots I already know.</div>
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<i>A Wrinkle in Time: The Graphic Novel </i>, yes, you read correctly, its a graphic novel now. I've never been a reader (viewer?) of graphic novels so this was a new endeavor for me. I loved it! I've already read the first three regular novels in the Wrinkle series, and I adore them all. This was a whole new experience. I read (looked at?) each page slowly, and just took it all in. The dialogue, the artwork, the use of space--it was a new and visually interesting experience. I included this image of the first page, rather than the cover, so you can get the idea. I may venture out into some more graphic novels. Although, Meg is one of my favorite characters of all time and I don't know if anything else could quite match up.</div>
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Its funny that so much of my reading has been stories I know and love in new formats (for me).</div>
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I have also just started Mother Teresa's <i>In the Heart of the World</i>. I grew up very baptist, so studying a catholic, as wonderful as she was, was not looked upon highly. Recently, I have run across quotes by her here and there that have made there way into my heart and mind. I checked this out of the library, its a series of thoughts, prayers, and stories by Mother Teresa. So far its beautiful. I am touched by her giving spirit and it has changed the way I pray already. </div>
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I mentioned that I graduated in December, my graduation date was December 14, 2012 to be exact. I suppose for many of us, that date has become a dark day due to the events at Sandy Hook. I wanted to write about them, I wanted to write about graduation, but I couldn't. Those events overwhelmed me in a way I couldn't and didn't want to describe and at times they still do. I didn't know how to celebrate in the face of grief. I was shocked by the events in Connecticut, I was shocked by the public's quick and all too political reactions. I don't think for a minute that we shouldn't look at and develop new policies, it's just that those events, those families, those teachers, those students, were so quickly exploited for political agendas of the right and the left. It all just tore my heart up. It made me question my career choice, it made me question if the world could be a good place. The world seemed darker. Hope seemed ripped out of our hands. </div>
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Slowly, I began to "recover". I realized that the solution, isn't in politics, its in kindness. This had been called naive by so many, but I just can't get passed the notion that if we really looked, really <i>looked</i> at the people around us, the world would be different.</div>
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All this to say, the words of Mother Teresa have served as a healing agent for me. I needed to remember that people can be kind, that <i>I</i> can be kind, and that it matters. It really matters. I cannot change the whole world, but I can help the person, the people around me. I can give, I can love, I can smile, I can cry, I can forgive, I can pray. Those things matter. They are not weak things. They are not naive things. They are the strongest of things. They are our hope. The hope that nobody can rip from our hands.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"We never know how much just a simple smile will do." Mother Teresa</span></blockquote>
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<br />alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-47238895769660908082013-01-03T00:28:00.001-05:002013-01-03T00:28:15.484-05:00findING your way...<div><p dir=ltr>This is your adventure.</p>
<p dir=ltr>It is not what you thought it’d be.</p>
<p dir=ltr>It is not always as exciting as you’d once imagined,<br>
at least not on the surface.</p>
<p dir=ltr>It is darker and scarier than you could have dreamed.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Some of the days seem long, and tiring, and you don’t always feel like<br>
the hero you’d always thought of,<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>Strong, valiant, and brave.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Other days seem difficult and impossible, the kind they never told you about.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The kind filled with back breaking work, or even the slow strange tears of failure.</p>
<p dir=ltr>There is sweat, the kind that causes you to stop for just a moment and wipe your brow, before you just keep plodding on.<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>It’s not at all like they said.</p>
<p dir=ltr>It doesn’t feel like an adventure.<br><br></p>
<p dir=ltr>-</p>
<p dir=ltr>But it may be one still, an adventure that is,<br>
and it’s yours.</p>
<p dir=ltr>-</p>
<p dir=ltr>There, beneath what seems so dim and cold.<br>
Or, so ordinary and normal, not the stuff of some great story.<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>It’s there.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The quiet slow kind of adventure,<br>
the kind that makes you who you’ve always wanted to be.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Someday it may come, quicker than you dreamed, or slower,<br>
that is not for me to say,<br>
nor you,</p>
<p dir=ltr>Someday, You will find yourself again on some marvelous mountain top.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Standing on two strong legs,<br>
And that will be your adventure too.<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>You will have conquered, and fought, and rejoiced, and sang.<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>But this, this dark and ordinary day,<br>
this one moment,<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>this, dear friend,<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>This is your adventure.<br></p>
<p dir=ltr>Live it well.</p>
</div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-57270266638567951702012-12-06T21:52:00.003-05:002012-12-06T22:14:35.741-05:00books and thINGs i like latelyLast week was my first full week of not student teaching (my last week was the week of Thanksgiving). I have to be honest, I was rather despondent and ridiculous last week. I missed it. By "it", I guess I mean "them"--students. I knew I would miss it, I just never knew how much. I didn't really get much done, except for an inordinate amount of moping. It was a sad thing to behold.<br />
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However, this week, I have been able to begin enjoying my time off before the 1st of the year when I will begin subbing. Isn't it <strike>terrifying</strike> exciting??? I have finally begun to read, knit, decorate, and clean...all things I love (maybe not the cleaning, but it was necessary...trust me.) I have been reading though... a lot...I love it.</div>
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First of all, I read <i>The Shack. </i>It has been a very long time since I have read an overtly Christian book. I was reluctant to read this. A couple of students had recommended it to me and I had tried to make a point of reading anything (<i>anything...</i>I started a biography on Jerry Kramer...I didn't make it) that a student is excited about reading. So, with a sigh, I borrowed a copy from someone and sat down to read...<br />
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I was shocked. I expected to hate it. I expected it to be cliche, and corny, and disgustingly predictable. It was really none of those things. It was refreshing, and rich, and descriptive. William Young helped me look at the trinity and presence of God with a new perspective that changed me. A way that was able to rid itself of all the theological trappings that dried it out for me so long ago. It was beautiful and it made me remember after posts like <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2012/06/filtering-and-figuring-it-out-part-2.html">this </a>and <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2010/09/filtering.html">this</a>, that God is good. He is always, completely and entirely good and worth knowing. I had to read this book in digestible chunks, as it is the type of book that held a mirror up to my soul. My own doubtful and fearful soul. I loved this book.<br />
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I also read a young adult novel <i>Stargirl </i>by Jerry Spinelli. I was surprised by this as well. It started out a little bit slow, but once I got into it, it became worthy of a book hangover--staying up so late to finish a book that the next day is a little "rough" to get through. It's a book about conformity, and love, and finding yourself in a world that wants to make you anything but. I had never really read Spinelli before, and I grew to love his style in this book as well. </div>
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I loved <a href="http://www.peopleiwanttopunchinthethroat.com/2011/12/over-achieving-elf-on-shelf-mommies.html?m=1">this</a>. Elf on the shelf was something which when I first heard about it years ago, seemed like a good idea. Then with the onset of Pinterest, it has become a monster. A truly terrifying, and unruly, Christmastime monster. Moms everywhere are going to great lengths to make this doll seem "alive" and mischievous in their homes with sinks full of marshmallows, and even shaving bald spots on dad's head. This post pointed out some of this ridiculousness and made me laugh and laugh and laugh.</div>
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<a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/12/05/barbara-kingsolver-how-i-write.html">This</a>. It's an interview with Barbara Kingsolver. She is the author of one of my all time favorite books, <i>The Bean Trees. </i>She also wrote <i>Animal Vegetable Miracle</i> and <i>The Poisonwood Bible</i> (which was on my list to read, then the dog ate my copy of it). I love (love love love!) learning about authors. I especially love when I connect so much with them. That's how I felt with this, like she is an older version of me or maybe I'm younger version of her (not that I'm saying I'm even half the writer she is). She even raises sheep, spins, and knits. Yep, we'd be BFF's if we really knew each other.</div>
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Finally, today I found out that you can get a masters degree in storytelling...yep, you heard me, storytelling!!! I had stopped by the school I student taught at to tutor (I do this on Thursday's now. It's to ward off my pathetic despondency). Today, I was invited to sit in on my old Language Arts class because they had a storyteller. She was wonderful and she made even those rough, tough football players sit on the edge of their seats and laugh out loud right along with her. It was beautiful. She also told me that although she doesn't have one, you can get a <a href="http://www.etsu.edu/coe/stories/">masters in storytelling.</a> Babe, you're totally okay with moving to Tennessee so I can do this and get a degree that I'm positive will make us <i>lots </i>of money...right?.....right?<br />
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So there you have it, my life after student teaching (and before subbing)....</div>
alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-91049950192885343272012-10-27T22:18:00.000-04:002012-10-27T22:21:48.134-04:00findING a placeToday is one of those days for me. <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2011/11/it-has-been-long-time.html">A dark day</a>.<br />
<br />
It is one of those days for no particular reason at all, and for every reason in the world.<br />
<br />
It has been a gray, rainy, lonely, ragged, tired, heavy, tried-to-pull-myself-up-but couldn't, kind of day.<br />
<br />
It is days like this that I must write. Sometimes without really having anything to actually say, but I must say <i>something.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I need someway to move forward. Something concrete to look at. <i>Words.</i> Maybe they aren't really concrete. But they are the <i>something </i>that I need right now.<br />
<br />
Words are the something that I need to write or read or hear or speak.<br />
<br />
I am an emotional person. I've finally, after many years, embraced this about myself. All of the joy, anger, grief, quietness, anxiety, "blah-ness", empathy, and any other emotion you could possibly think of need some place to go, and today they go here.<br />
<br />
They become words.<br />
<br />
People need words. It is our words that inspire and move and change us. Words can break us into a thousand bits. The absence of words can do the same. And sometimes that's just it I've noticed. The absence of words can break us to bits. The absence of words can destroy us.<br />
<br />
I often wonder why I blog or why does anybody else for that matter, and that's just it. I do it for words. Mine and others.<br />
<br />
We need each other. We need words. And although, I will always, <i>always, </i> value the real life words, of a real life person--flesh and bone and heart and beauty--sitting across from you with the weight of the world or the joy and wonder of it within them, so much more. Somehow, I think we, or at least I, need this. This space. This very odd, public space to give and receive the wonder of words.<br />
<br />
So, as I make it through this dark day, that is here for no reason in particular and for every reason in the world, I at least have the quietness, and steadiness of words to see me through.<br />
<br />
Thank you for being a part of it.alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-80939466862365586892012-10-20T09:16:00.001-04:002012-10-20T09:16:20.974-04:00movING on...<div><p dir=ltr>It is this time of year,<br>
that the tall and golden sun flowers bow their great heads, to mourn the end of summer.</p>
<p dir=ltr>quietly and carefully the garden has been turned under in a kind of closing ceremony, <br>
like the fresh and sacred ground of a tomb.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Preparing the soft and giving earth to wait out another winter.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The sweat and wonder of summer has long since left, and we wait.</p>
<p dir=ltr>We wait in the fiery, golden, light of autumn, set against it's lengthened shadows, </p>
<p dir=ltr>deep and mysterious.</p>
<p dir=ltr>We wait in its damp morning fog</p>
<p dir=ltr>Or its gray drizzling mornings.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Our hearts grow in heaviness and awe at the sight of the first frost, cold and unforgiving <br>
and lovely.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The geese call out, harsh and metallic, a warning <br>
and a wanting. </p>
<p dir=ltr>Different days are coming.</p>
<p dir=ltr>It is this time of year, that we celebrate and grieve. We let go, and hold on, and we wait, and remember, the days that are to come.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-5z7FEULkMirye3dIU_JdkIBbIvJgcBnyGFabVEs5fnKGk7JnZum8ydZzksr_fee94H984NlAReJIcX0feBz4MjMsr3d7mxH02uA8tm64z4pXxq3h3XBUmOw_AKV2LbhH9rARSSVcfvM/' /></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-43796326252505442472012-09-18T06:30:00.001-04:002012-09-18T17:31:29.771-04:00Student teachING so far.....<div><p>So far I am learning reality. I am learning that all the grand things I dreamed of in my class room are a thousand times harder to achieve than I ever dreamed.</p>
<p>I am learning to trust myself. It is easy when you are new (and when you aren't really on the payroll) to second guess yourself. To think that there must be someone else who knows better. Maybe some days they do. Maybe some days they don't. The only way to know is to move forward. I got into this business because I believe I have something to give, and I do.</p>
<p>I am learning to trust my students. They are smart and wonderful and creative when I get out of the way and let them be.</p>
<p>I am learning to not be afraid of my students. 14 year olds, especially in great numbers, are the most formidable group I have yet to cross paths with. And just as creative and smart and wonderful as they can be, they will, to their own demise, try not to be some days. It is my job to accept nothing, absolutely nothing, but their best. </p>
<p>I am learning to let it go. Some days don't go as planned. It doesn't feel okay, but it is. Some plans that I thought would be wonderful--aren't. This is okay to.</p>
<p>I am learning to still, like always, hold on to my idealism with all of my soul. The world will always want to strip us of this. I can't let it. I can't let it take idealism from me or the 110 faces I see everyday for just 50 minutes. I must hold on for dear life...because that's what it is.</p>
<p>I feel I'm doing much more learning than teaching these days. I hope that this is always always so.</p>
</div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-14862135253995354152012-08-21T15:43:00.001-04:002012-08-21T15:43:13.546-04:00 havING too much of a good thing...???<div><p>This is how life feels right now. Like maybe everything is too good, too wonderful, too strong, and vibrant and alive. The worrying side of me wants to wonder when the bottom will drop out, but surprisingly and wonderfully, that side of me is not winning.</p>
<p>Life is not perfect right now, not even at all but its good. So so good. (Did I mention life is good?)...</p>
<p>I am coming off of a wonderful summer filled with spinning (I bought a wheel!....more on that later), baking, growing tomatoes and what seems like a million other green and lovely summer things, spending time with my wonderful grandma, sweet red wine, fires in the back yard....Just goodness all over.</p>
<p>This week I started my student teaching, well unofficially. My official Kent assigned day is September 4th, but I have a fabulous cooperating teacher who has welcomed me into her room. I've spent the last few days at staff meetings, getting the room ready etc. I've been so impressed with how positive the staff there has been. Its been a refreshing and terrific change in comparison to some schools I've been in through out my experiences. Tomorrow the kids show up, and the real (but good, so so good....like everything else) work begins. I can't wait. I am surprisingly unnervous (yep, I made that word up) and I'm completely excited.</p>
<p>I've started running again, and for the first time in 5 yeas (5!) it doesn't hurt my back. There is lots of walking and panting involved, but lots of smiles too. </p>
<p>So life for now, seems like its too much of a good thing, but its not too much and I love it.  Smiles all around and happy Tuesday everyone!</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUzrL2MiE3lPXJycs-Sn6bwfAS5F90Eiw6doeRs0XvBHT8PebpyrjgQj6C4zxtkoVYe4Mk17d3Z1r88-muizckZ2hEw9rUrf_YZo8wp1hzzhKR4TZOKG6NEyP5mXyvQuql1Ta32oxNHeX/' /></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-2223802509665723302012-08-01T00:54:00.001-04:002012-08-01T05:54:13.076-04:00savING grace<div><p>When I needed it most...we went to a good friend's wedding out of town. We laughed, and danced, and celebrated with them. It was a thousand degrees out and we drove 13 hours to get there, but I couldn't have cared less. My heart was so full of joy for them and for all the wonderful people there celebrating with them, that I cried like a total idiot during the toast, because I tried to hold it all in during the ceremony. Nobody cries like that during toasts. Especially ones they aren't even giving. But to be honest, I love that being with people can make my heart feel so <i>so</i> big, it just has to spill over in wonderful, lovely, seemingly endless, tears of shear joy.</p>
<p>When I needed it most, we found friends that we can stay up with and watch a fire dance in the night while our laughter danced right along with it.  Even on week nights, when we should all be in bed like responsible adults. Discovering that we have so much more in common than we thought. "Oh, you stay up at night every now again wondering if you're becoming a serial killer or some other terrible illogical thing but just don't know it yet? Me too!! It must be totally normal".... Even if its just one other person, its nice to find someone whose you're exact kind of crazy.</p>
<p>When I needed it most, we found friends that listened. And rather than give more empty advice, we all just prayed. I say "just", like its no big deal, but really, nothing (absolutely nothing) could have been more freeing. </p>
<p>When I needed it most, good friends, the life long kind, came to visit. Coming from all corners of the globe to laugh and laugh and laugh (okay and maybe eat). To stay up late, talking about life and laughing more. And getting up and drinking coffee (and eating) and talking and laughing still more until we think we could burst (from the laughing that is....er...)</p>
<p>When I needed it most, all the little things in life, that really aren't so little, came crashing down around us in one beautiful mess. Life has seemed so good, I just can't believe this life is really mine. And all when I needed it most.</p>
<p>"Every good and perfect gives comes from above..." James</p>
</div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-69644908870184343752012-07-28T01:16:00.001-04:002012-07-28T08:13:38.739-04:00lettING go...<div><p><br>
You start out knitting for yourself.</p>
<p>From the needles comes a scarf,<br>
a hat<br>
someday a sweater.</p>
<p>From your own hands , and the clacking of metal on metal comes warmth to get you through a thousand winters.</p>
<p>It's independence , self sufficiency.<br>
You can stand alone.</p>
<p>Then you discover it.<br>
The joy of knitting for another.</p>
<p>With skill and time <br>
comes a gift.<br>
Something to ease grief, or welcome one into the world,<br>
Something that celebrates or mourns or both.<br>
Something to soften and warm and brighten, <br>
in those long winter months ahead.</p>
<p>Each stitch, a prayer. <br>
The wool moving through your fingers like beads of the rosary. </p>
<p>Holy and sacred. Giving life and goodness.</p>
<p>You started out alone,</p>
<p>and you needed to. Learning to stand on you're own is all a part of it.</p>
<p>But the next part, is watching something you created, something you labored over, something you touched and admired<br>
move from your hands,<br>
into those of another.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0iCvsBHtHQpA8cYhEn_iuyUegzMkASpck4sCdxqFWrC4k3n1_h3n-tO55f-_saK7e8V110eAQrNC96BlfnP-e3eEy88PIZJbPwtphZ6M15e4gHcyw8SHJe6g-5sN_I6_VS7nQhbKhzsS/' /></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-43853834545021284052012-07-13T11:05:00.000-04:002012-07-13T11:05:23.950-04:00becomING one of "those" people....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Over the past few months, I've become one of "those" people. You know, the coffee snobs, one of those people who requires extra time and equipment just for a cup of coffee.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Careful, it's a slippery slope. It could happen to you.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It started with an inordinate amount of mugs I had collected over the years....</span></div>
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Then, I became a brand snob. My coffee requirements had surpassed anything that Foldger's or Maxwell House could provide...</div>
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Then, my sister got me a french press for my birthday (note, the unused coffee pot in the background)....</div>
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Then, I got syrups. Yes syrups...it's pathetic...</div>
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Next came the milk frother...because unfrothed milk certainly won't due....</div>
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As you can see, it's developed into quite the process and quite the mess. I find myself getting up a whole ten minutes earlier (a major accomplishment for me) just for a cup of coffee.</div>
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It's all pretty out of hand....but totally worth it. :)</div>
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Happy Friday everyone! I hope that you are enjoying whatever your guilty pleasure is today as well!</div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-47883723318698458292012-06-25T12:10:00.001-04:002012-06-25T12:15:12.667-04:00celebratING a simple lifeI wasn't going to garden this year.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"> "I have too much going on."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">But in the busyness of this summer. I needed something.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I needed at least one, small, summer, miracle.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">One that gives all summer long, and even gives into early fall,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">and with a little sweat and diligence, gives all winter,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">through cans of salsa, and sauce.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I wanted something to remind me of the beauty of giving.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">How if something has roots, and is cared for,</span></div>
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it will grow, tall and lovely, with leaves and fruit,</div>
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in the warm summer sun.</div>
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I needed <i>something</i>, just one thing this summer,</div>
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to carry me through.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">--Bilbo Baggins</span></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-8048384623580793772012-06-13T11:35:00.001-04:002012-06-13T15:45:06.740-04:00filtering and figuring it out (part 2)For those of you who have been reading since the beginning of this whole thing, you may remember <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2010/09/filtering.html">this </a>post. This is kind of a part two, a whole 2 years (or is it 3 even?) later.<br />
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I've been thinking a lot lately and trying to figure a lot of things out lately. Maybe this is even a repeat of the post from a few years ago. I will say though, that I am very much less afraid to be honest with people about where I am than I was when I wrote years ago.<br />
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I still am at a very funny (although it's probably not funny at all) place with my Christianity. Even typing that word <i>Christianity </i>causes me to take a deep breath and a step back. I'm still at a loss sometimes of what to think, maybe even more than when I wrote my original post.<br />
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I'm about to sound whiny. There, I warned you.<br />
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When Dave and I first got married, we changed churches for an abundance of reasons, and it was exactly what we needed at that time. We have been at our new church for almost three years now and we feel very much...alone. We started by going on Sundays, it was refreshing to be somewhere bigger, somewhere new. We were in a small group and then we led one. All said and done though, it is still of little consequence if we are actually physically there (I say physically because our church offers their services online as well, which is a whole other topic for me, probably not nearly as important).<br />
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Dave helped out with the acting and comedy ministry at our church. Still, nobody talks to us, or calls except for one couple and to be honest if that one friendship is why we have been there, I'm okay with that on some level. I also know though, that point of church isn't just to sit through a sermon. At least that's not what I want from it. <br />
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I know that three years ago I would have told someone saying these very same things to me that "Well, you just need to make an effort, call someone, join a small group, join a ministry....etc." or "Well, remember, it's not about you anyway, just find someone that <i>you </i>can reach out to." That all sounds pretty empty to me now and I'm sorry to anyone that I ever said that to. What I should have said was, "Hey, do you want to go grab a coffee or come over to dinner etc???" I feel like we have done those things (joined ministries, made an effort, blah blah blah) and still we are figuring it all out alone, and I hate it. I know that Christianity was meant to be lived together, but I have no idea how to accomplish that.<br />
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Along with that, new questions in my own mind have come up about Christianity, perhaps because of the alone-ness we are experiencing. (???) Things like how did politics and Christianity get all jumbled up into one big tangled mess? Being an election year I find myself hiding Facebook statuses and rolling my eyes as Christians tell me who to vote for and why and I find it all...tiring? Maybe? (Honestly, I shouldn't just blame Christians for this, everyone does this, but sometimes Christians can do this with a particular zeal).<br />
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My own politics have changed over the past year, a lot, and in ways that have surprised me.Why? Mostly from being in classrooms with kids that have next to nothing. I don't know that I can look a student in the eye and say "Yeah, I voted for you not have health care." I just can't. I hate that Christianity is often connected with being Republican. And to be honest, I'm not really either. I am not democrat or republican and maybe that's a cop out, or maybe its being balanced, or maybe its both or neither. I don't want to be either. That's another post for another day. I guess I'm saying, why all the hateful politics connected to Christianity sometimes? (I say sometimes, because I also recognize that not every Christian or every church has hateful politics).<br />
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All this to say though, I am trying so desperately to make the connections. Every. single. thing. that I know of Christ is loving and good and yes, even holy (but I think our idea of what that is has gotten skewed over the years). I can't line it up though with the current breed of Christianity and I don't know where to go next. I can't even tell you exactly what I would like to see in a church. I can't , and I don't know what that means. I do know that somewhere in it all I still believe that Christianity wasn't meant to be lived alone, but I don't know how to fix that. I don't have a next move.<br />
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This all sounds way more bitter and disillusioned and even much more vague than I intended. Wow. Sorry. You don't need to worry, you aren't going to find me out on a ledge somewhere, and surprisingly despite all these nagging questions I have, I am not on the verge of a panic attack (any of those who have known me for years know how great of an accomplishment that is for me) :). Also, this wasn't intended to bash Christianity. I still believe it, and understand it be something that can be life-giving and beautiful, but the last few years I have come face to face with it's ugly side over and over and I am still trying to make sense of it all.<br />
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I do know that these questions are important to me, and I do know that I still haven't given up on the whole thing, I even know that it will be okay and Dave and I will someday (hopefully) find a place that we can be and feel less alone.I also know that that was a run-on. This is just where we are for now. Hopefully, when I write part 3 of this (I have no idea if or when that will happen), maybe some things will be figured out. To be honest though, I'm glad I've asked these questions, I think when we don't ask, we don't grow, in Christianity or with anything really. So, that's that. For now.alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-79147547474293487512012-05-18T17:54:00.001-04:002012-05-18T17:54:37.981-04:00doING this and thatSo, summer has been way busier than anticipated, but this doesn't mean its bad.<br />
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First of all, I'm in love. Seriously. I'm not even kidding. I'm in love with my crock pot. I pretty much cook everything all the time in it. If I had more than one crock pot, I would probably be cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner in them, along with all of my snacks and maybe even beverages. This happened because I found <a href="http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/2007/12/alphabetical-listing-of-recipes.html">this </a>website. This lady used her crock pot everyday for an entire year. This could easily become me. I also feel it's important to tell you how much of a victory this is for me. Shortly after Dave and I got married (that almost 3 years ago...yep, I said 3 years!) I had two EPIC failures with the crock pot and it was banished to my pantry for two more years, until recently. Now I'm making, meals, beverages (Gingerbread Latte's? Yes freaking please!), and I'm thinking I'm going to move into desserts soon. It's basically the best thing ever. Go to that website, its the best thing ever. Here it is again, just in case:</div>
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<a href="http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/2007/12/alphabetical-listing-of-recipes.html">http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/2007/12/alphabetical-listing-of-recipes.html</a>
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Second, I'm so (so so so so so so so so) excited about student teaching this fall. So excited. I met with my first cooperating teacher (I will have two, one for language arts and one for social studies). I met the lady I will be teaching social studies with this fall and it went so incredibly well. She was so happy when I came into her room. She gave me a tour of her school--and she sent me home with this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGSh_OyJcwD2NDmcDATUn9AUCERU-KE1RQJkocXY0wl3Yz0wVDJyvP13Q4TZvsGtCv6ZuzTj7PqnJW5EaKg4OjZdXBkhWyZFNtJD-mb1ngfSsoDuH5Ysc_9MZZgbM8pBJ3iLiOK6Qk7j_/s1600/stack+of+stuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNGSh_OyJcwD2NDmcDATUn9AUCERU-KE1RQJkocXY0wl3Yz0wVDJyvP13Q4TZvsGtCv6ZuzTj7PqnJW5EaKg4OjZdXBkhWyZFNtJD-mb1ngfSsoDuH5Ysc_9MZZgbM8pBJ3iLiOK6Qk7j_/s320/stack+of+stuff.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Ok, So it's not the best picture in the world, but that's basically a giant stack of lessons plans, curriculum etc. for me to go through to start planning!! I am both overwhelmed and excited by this. It's US History, mostly exploration, which is exciting (how many times can I say a form of the word "exctied" in this post?). Seriously, I can't even wait. I'm both terrified and excited for this fall and really, it can't come quick enough for me. I might be more excited about it than Christmas, which for anyone who has read this blog in the past, you know how big of a deal that is.</div>
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I'm still doing various nerdy wool activities like this:</div>
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I dyed this alpaca wool. It looks gross and matted here because it was gross and matted here. I still have to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carding">card</a> it. If you aren't motivated enough to click on the link, in short, carding is a process by which the wool is made "smooth" again so that it is ready to be spun into yarn.</div>
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Finally, I have other lame and less exciting things going on this summer. I have two summer classes (that right, not one, but <i>two</i>)<i>. </i>One is going on now everyday for 3 weeks (the homework for which I am procrastinating right now) and the other is next month for the whole entire month. I don't really love it at all. Also, I have to take two Praxis II tests this summer, one for social studies and one for language arts. Yuck. That's all I can really say about that.</div>
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In the mean time though, I'm going to continue my wild affair with my crock pot, as well as being excited about student teaching, as well as processing, spinning and knitting wool. </div>
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So that's pretty much the summer....</div>
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How many times <i>did </i>I say excited???</div>
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<br /></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-62487159623652380122012-05-14T17:07:00.000-04:002012-05-14T17:13:40.809-04:00rockING it in MarylandSo, as some of you know, last weekend it was once again time for the <a href="http://www.sheepandwool.org/">Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival</a>. Just like last year, it was awesome. Maybe better, now that I've been there once and had more "focused" approach.<br />
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Some of my favorite moments:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUYRnvcQ9rxYee57gBjgojnvHc9eeBPTpcx-GlM7CdT5Y2ApSBsVVhl92dG1E9_uNw9d4H6prGyAHeESpTHv-eYXmBVivaL2NuPQnbYqzbj6RJH5bEx6yD_uGpZF3aqz6etDNSqS801DQP/s1600/she.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUYRnvcQ9rxYee57gBjgojnvHc9eeBPTpcx-GlM7CdT5Y2ApSBsVVhl92dG1E9_uNw9d4H6prGyAHeESpTHv-eYXmBVivaL2NuPQnbYqzbj6RJH5bEx6yD_uGpZF3aqz6etDNSqS801DQP/s320/she.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Dave's cousin took this picture claiming it was me "picking up men" at the sheep and wool festival, and I have to agree that it looks incriminating...<i>however</i>, what was really happening, was that he was explaining to me about some of the fleeces as well as telling me about his flock of sheep (and I mean that literally). <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2011/05/geeking-out-in-maryland.html">Last year</a>, I had a long conversation with another old man. This is becoming a part of the tradition. Old people are awesome.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUgX7dKZ6x1ryh2PLBmm_he_bFQ-6rw0P-xrQSkLq5wK88TL_2biAm6OT00BMW11FBLIVOEnep_zo1jRIXuXcFTETCbthOYYPw0dQjbTNBvQL09pPRnBd_WJAw1bNgSzlVJMDL0w6xEitg/s1600/dog+show.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUgX7dKZ6x1ryh2PLBmm_he_bFQ-6rw0P-xrQSkLq5wK88TL_2biAm6OT00BMW11FBLIVOEnep_zo1jRIXuXcFTETCbthOYYPw0dQjbTNBvQL09pPRnBd_WJAw1bNgSzlVJMDL0w6xEitg/s320/dog+show.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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This is a picture from the sheep dog demonstration. I didn't take the time to sit through this last year, but I'm so glad I did this year. It was absolutely amazing to see what the dogs were capable of and how much they loved it. It made me want sheep and dogs (maybe I'll buy them next year at Maryland....Right Dave??? Right?)</div>
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This (not this exact one) was my big purchase this year. A drop spindle! I'm spinning now. I would have loved to buy a wheel, but that's like a $300-$500 investment so.... I'm saving for next year. In the mean time, I'm spinning using a primitive, but very cool method. I love it. I love the history. Women in ancient Greece (and a ton of other places) used drop spindles to spin fiber to make clothing and other items, while watching sheep. After <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-favorite-ings-of-summer-so-far.html">reading about some of the history of fiber</a>, I love it even more.</div>
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Along with the festival, we spent a day in DC. I was total nerd the whole time as demonstrated below:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_VEMWSSTeB6KJYBh2Si5vaSMo2h8dzq0DyfgKlfhJHzwR3I3p7cXDKlXKc1DaCDiPnmupRrpgCHY5z7BMptdlZcszdVPe8q8vL1CP4FGrptzn1tvWGH9MxWoLqetHWVFFAZCdNWP5GlA/s1600/whitehouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_VEMWSSTeB6KJYBh2Si5vaSMo2h8dzq0DyfgKlfhJHzwR3I3p7cXDKlXKc1DaCDiPnmupRrpgCHY5z7BMptdlZcszdVPe8q8vL1CP4FGrptzn1tvWGH9MxWoLqetHWVFFAZCdNWP5GlA/s320/whitehouse.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Me, as a squinty-eyed, smiling tourist in front of the White House. I fit right in with all the eighth graders. Obama wasn't home, I was secretly hoping he would be there, invite me in, <i>and </i>we would talk about education and basically become good friends, <i>and </i>he would totally invite me back to talk to congress about education <i>and </i>I would basically change the whole world.....a girl can dream can't she?</div>
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Instead, I just became more of a cheesy tourist and got my picture in a fake Oval Office in the gift shop. I hate how excited I look in this picture...I was taking this way too seriously. I was the only non-child or non visitor from another country in line for these pictures...yes, that's plural, I have set of 5 pictures of me looking "presidential". It's ridiculous.</div>
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So, that was Maryland. I totally feel like a narcissist posting all these pictures of myself, which is why I don't normally do this. That's probably why its better to wait until you have kids to have a blog, at least I could post pictures of them doing stuff, instead of nerdy pictures of myself.*</div>
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Also, it's worth mentioning, while riding in the car we had a book of White House trivia. Through out the course of our Q and A session, I discovered Lou Hoover was the most kick ass first lady ever. You should look her up. I'm pretty sure the Depression would have ended way sooner had she been running the country instead of dumb old Herb. Seriously, look her up.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Mother, this in no way means I am planning on having children at this time...</span></div>
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<br />alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-1870582781061002082012-04-20T13:24:00.004-04:002012-05-14T17:15:28.084-04:00listenING<br />
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It’s funny, how baseball's always been a man’s game.</div>
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It fits so well into a woman’s schedule.</div>
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It come's in with spring.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p>The small radio on top of the fridge,</div>
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belts out the game all afternoon,</div>
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between ads, and static.</div>
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A pop-fly during the
dishes,</div>
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a 6-4-3 double when the towels are folded.</div>
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You stop for lunch, and the crowd roars over a four-bagger,
putting <st1:city w:st="on">Cleveland</st1:city>
in the lead.</div>
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It’s April, clothes waving on the line, as history is made,
the longest opener ever.</div>
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16 Innings.</div>
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Night games are the most exciting, at the end of some scorching
summer day</div>
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and you sit,</div>
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The porch swing, powered by the gentle movement of your legs,</div>
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fighting off the day’s fatigue, as Detroit takes the
Central Division.</div>
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It’s funny, this man’s game, </div>
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<st1:place w:st="on">America</st1:place>’s
pastime. </div>
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but it’s us who listen, and hear it. </div>
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It's rhythm, in sync with our own. </div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image Credit: Google Image</span></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-31784052990430727032012-04-18T15:45:00.000-04:002012-04-18T15:51:07.073-04:00readING rundownThree books, two I've finished, one I've almost finished. The first two, I have to tell you, were recommended to me by a couple 7th graders. For a teaching lit class I'm in we had literature pen pals from a Cleveland school district. I was so surprised by how much I loved the books. We should take recommendations from 12 years olds more often.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQ5MAYdsqY1hhO07bc1s1NAxX2XMCC27pb0iIRScg0UbWi6K8imIdbljT94Kp0biSSd0GGURafb3mQuWT4m9BZjC9ACTxeNAp95s-AeVajEzexTxnofawgAXo6oAVGZs4Y6PO-CGZ7Qpd/s1600/unwind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQ5MAYdsqY1hhO07bc1s1NAxX2XMCC27pb0iIRScg0UbWi6K8imIdbljT94Kp0biSSd0GGURafb3mQuWT4m9BZjC9ACTxeNAp95s-AeVajEzexTxnofawgAXo6oAVGZs4Y6PO-CGZ7Qpd/s1600/unwind.jpg" /></a></div>
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Unwind, by Neal Shusterman. This book was suspenseful and I finished it quickly. It's perfect for a middle school classroom (okay, okay, and for adults....if you liked the Hunger Games, you will like this...I promise). It deals with 3 "misfits" scheduled to be "unwound". I feel I would give too much away if I told you what "unwinding" is...but trust me...its not good. I also would love to use it in Social Studies as it deals with personal freedoms and even the sanctity of life. Pretty jammed packed for a book for middle schoolers.</div>
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This book creeped. me. out. I am not normally a ghost story reader, but this was the book one of my pen pals picked out so I read it. It was surprisingly great! It was a fast read and I was actually touched by its ending. I was amazed at the simple way the author communicates the grieving process and the idea of letting go.</div>
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I've been tyring to read more young adult lit anyway. I love being able to recommend books to students, and honestly the best way I've found to be able to do that, is to read more.</div>
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This last book I started reading for a project I'm doing on the effects and uses of technology in the classroom. (Sorry everything I think, read, write, and talk about these days is teaching...its sorta my world right now). This book confirmed a lot of my thoughts on technology and changed some of them. While I think sometimes her views are a little extreme, it definitely made me think about making sure technology is in its proper place in my own life, and even my classroom. I'm almost finished with this and can't wait to hear her thoughts. To me, the book is a little longer than I think was necessary, but at the same time she makes some excellent points. It's worth the length.</div>
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I have a few books I'm reading now and that are in my reading queue... :) I've finally started The Book Whisperer that I mentioned in my last <a href="http://hardingali.blogspot.com/2012/02/reading-rundown.html">reading rundown</a>. It's <i>wonderful </i>so far! I can't even tell you how much her writing about reading resonates with me. Its beautiful and makes me so excited to teach.</div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-53682603340852620852012-04-13T11:39:00.001-04:002012-04-20T15:00:28.780-04:00Easter mornING<br />
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So, I may have failed at this poem everyday thing (that was sort of inevitable). The good news is, it has accomplished the goal of reviving creativity. It has made me think about poetry and writing, which is what I really wanted anyway. </div>
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This year, due to scheduling mostly, we didn't go to our regular church for Easter. We went to a sunrise service that was held on the Moravian settlement of <a href="http://www.ohiosfirstvillage.com/">Schoenbrunn Village</a> . This was my first sunrise service ever. It was so surprisingly beautiful to me. It was the simplicity and quietness of it all that was so moving to me. Normally, I love what our own church does but, being outside, with no lighting or bands, or shows was a refreshing change of pace for me. I honestly don't know what I think of this...it's still a work in progress.</div>
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This year it came without billboards, without signs.</div>
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It came without announcement, much like it really would have back then, I guess.</div>
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When it came, we gathered,</div>
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at dawn,</div>
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ragtagged.</div>
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Dressed not in the normal frill fit for the day,</div>
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but still in the drab and heaviness of winter,</div>
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to ward off what remained of it’s chill</div>
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on that early spring morning.</div>
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Thankful for scarves and old mittens,</div>
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boots, and wool coats meant for hunting, or farming.</div>
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The mismatched lot of us, huddled to say together,</div>
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“This we believe, this we truly believe,”</div>
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Under an ancient oak,<br />
as old as the ground we stood on, as time-worn as our words.</div>
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“This we believe, this we truly believe”.</div>
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Quiet, we stood, </div>
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and listened, as The Story was read to the music of our own breath, </div>
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in </div>
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and out. </div>
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“This we believe, this we truly believe.”</div>
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It’s words rang out clean and clear and confident, </div>
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standing still</div>
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but stirring our souls until we joined the song together,</div>
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“This we believe, this we truly believe.”</div>
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Moving from the silent sacred to our own resurrected joy, as we sang the old hymns, chanting together.</div>
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“This we believe. This we truly believe!”</div>
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Like it once was,</div>
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centuries ago, as they sang these same words, on this same solemn ground,</div>
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huddled in their own wool coats, to celebrate their own winter’s end, their own new Life, </div>
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and This,</div>
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“This we believe. This we truly believe.”</div>
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It came this year, quiet and rising. </div>
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Without programs, without sound systems, without lighting or rehearsal.</div>
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Without any real warning.</div>
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It came this year, full of subtle but expectant hope.</div>
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This we believe, this we truly believe.</div>
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<br /></div>alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12248552493046910595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783599960587480180.post-37016199777781125852012-04-03T11:04:00.000-04:002012-04-03T11:14:58.458-04:00revivING creativityApril is <a href="http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/41">National Poetry Month</a>. For me, it could also very accurately be named national (or just Harding household) procrastination month. I have several final projects I should be working on, emails to type regarding end of the school year events, and my Praxis II I could be studying for...yet, here I am. This happens every year at this time. There is just something about April that makes me run from school work like it's a serial killer. (Although, let's be honest, it sort of is one, in a slow torturous sort of way...)<br />
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In the spirit of procrastination and hopefully more so, poetry, I have decided to try and write or at least post a poem everyday. This is honestly more for myself then it is for anyone else (you may now bow out gracefully if you hate poetry). I love to write and don't make time for it, and I feel I am giving my procrastination a positive outlet, making it into more of an "alternate productivity" than procrastination. Right??? It can be anything, a freestyle, sonnet, even a haiku. Just something. This could blow up in my face. This could really just be a month of awful poetry. </div>
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I know that I probably won't post everyday. I say post instead of write because I'm not sure if forcing myself to write a poem everyday is conducive to good poetry or not. That really is a question more than a statement. So, on some days, I may just find a poem by a favorite poet and post it here. All in all, I'm hoping for this to be a revival of creativity for me.</div>
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procrastination,</div>
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one test, a paper to write,</div>
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so I'll clean the house.</div>
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p.s.---This isn't starting out well. I just stared for forty minutes. Wrote a whole poem about morning I'd been thinking about lately anyway, hated it, tried to post poem by a favorite poet but it didn't seem to "fit". So, I gave up and wrote that dumb haiku. I'm trying too hard.</div>
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