The Score is Tied

After our second night in the old/new house, the battle between its two male occupants is tied.

Male Parental Unit:1 Adidas:1

See below for highlights from this week's match up.

"The Point Earning Move"

For details of the first match between these two slumber seeking boys, please see this blog's previous post. Stay tuned to see who wins the tie-breaking match. The winner will snooze away on his very own blow up air mattress. (Bed linens are not included in the prize package.)

First Night

We spent our first night in our “new” house this week. Well, it’s not really new, but it feels new. You may remember that back in the spring we began renovations on Weber’s house in Dallas. We had hoped to move before school started in August; for many reasons this did not happen. These are not necessarily bad reasons, they are just reasons. And for these same reasons, despite the fact that we spent the night in the house, the renovations are still not complete. That being said, progress is being made.

We have Saltillo tile floors in half the house. The other half is concrete slab awaiting hardwood flooring. We have some painted walls, some base boards, and some crown molding. Throughout the house are forty five can lights. The guys at Home Depot who had to climb to the very top shelf to get the four dozen light bulbs that we needed for these forty five lights love us. They love us because they had to work over the weekend instead of going to the Texas State Fair. Riding the lift to those tip-top shelves is almost like experiencing the Midway at the fair.

We have three new functional toilets. (This is a really good thing to have when considering overnight accommodations!) We have running water in one shower and one sink. And another perk – the hot water heaters are hooked up! We even have a towel warmer, which is great on cold winter mornings. Unfortunately it is still hot here so this luxury went unappreciated on our first night’s stay except as a plain old towel bar. The problem with this whole scenario – the shower, the sink and the towel warmer are each in a different bathroom. So, we had progressive bedtime and morning rituals. Brush your teeth in one bathroom. Move to the next to take a shower; then to the last to hang the damp towels. This all sounds a little convoluted, but it worked.

Did I mention that we have no kitchen? Let me rephrase that. We have a place for a kitchen; it just has nothing in it except a refrigerator. Well, that is not exactly true either. It does have an oven and dishwasher too; they just happen to be sitting in the middle of the floor still packaged and not connected to any power source. The kitchen walls do have pencil lines showing where the eventual cabinets, appliances and sink will go. But right now, the kitchen exists only in our very vivid imaginations. We did manage a cold breakfast of fruit and yogurt and a bedtime snack of popcorn (store-bought) and diet coke. Meal preparation beyond that level was impossible. As with the bathroom situation, this worked for the short term as well.

The only furniture in the house right now to speak of is a recliner and a straight back chair. Neither is conducive to a good night’s sleep. We have taken a few naps together in the recliner but this manner of sleep has about a thirty minute limit. Beyond that, the only things that go to sleep are arms and legs whose circulation has been cut off. We solved this dilemma by taking an air mattress with us. Oh, and we also had to take the dogs with us.

The dogs have been going with us on days when I have late night rehearsals. Our contractor, Paul, and the dogs have become big buddies. They all seem to enjoy each other’s company. How many people get a contractor and dog sitter all in one?

On the days when we have left the dogs at the house, we have been spreading a flannel sheet on the floor for them – the same flannel sheet that we now needed to put on the air mattress. Though we had taken the mattress for us to sleep on, we had neglected to take any dog beds. Not a problem; we could run to Target and get a dog bed. Did you know that dog beds at Target are $40! You can buy a brand new comforter or a twin air bed for less than a dog bed. We decided that the dogs could just sleep on the old towels that were already at the house.

We aired up the mattress and I put the sheets on it. We then began the pilgrimage from bathroom to bathroom and readied ourselves for bed. We returned to our bed to discover that the dog bed dilemma had been resolved. Adidas was curled up on his male parental unit’s side of the bed. He looked quite comfy and not the least bit upset with us for not spending $40 on a bed for him. I laughed. The above mentioned male parental unit was not so amused. In fact, he was so unamused that I didn’t have time to take a picture of our precious black lab all tucked in for the night. In an instant, Adidas was back on his pile of towels and we humans had claimed our spots on the air mattress. Harley managed to wiggle her way under the covers next to me. Why should this first night in the new house be any different from any other night?

Many would see this whole experience as “roughing it.” To me, it had the feeling of perfect simplicity. We had no television, internet or kitchen sink, but we had hot and cold running water, a warm place to sleep, a fridge with diet coke, and each other. What more do we really need? Truthfully? Not much.

The reason that we had this little slumber party is because we had several nights in a row of late meetings and rehearsal on top of our usual early morning departures for school. Staying this one night saved about a hundred miles and two and half to three hours of driving. This in itself was worth the trade of no internet or kitchen sink! It gave us a taste of what life will be like once we finally move.

I have to say, I am looking forward to that time. So are the dogs. After a good night’s rest, Adidas assumes the role of site foreman in an effort to keep things on track so that we can move as soon as possible.

The Last One Standing

Yesterday I walked into the office at school and our beloved administrative assistant was filling a bowl with this year’s first round of Halloween candy. Today as I passed by this same bowl, this is what I saw.
What is it about the last piece of any kind of food? I see similar images when I walk by the doughnut table at church on Sunday mornings. By the time the late service begins, one lonely doughnut sits on a platter that it once shared with four or five dozen friends. And sometimes, there sits only half of a doughnut. Someone really wanted that last one, but couldn't bear, for whatever reason, to take the whole last morsel of this sacred Sunday confection.

We have all been to parties where trays of hors d’oeuvres linger on the table waiting for someone to swallow their pride and eat the last one. Why is there this hesitation? Why won’t we just snatch that last bite with the same vigor that we do the first? Or the middle? Is something wrong with it? Is it the one that every other guest has had their fingers on? Is it the one that everyone but you saw as having a fly garnish only moments ago? Is it the one that someone carried around on their plate and then returned to the platter because they didn’t like it? Surely not. Or, maybe so.

Maybe this poor lonely piece of candy pictured above that has found its place as the jack-o-lantern’s nose is like that last kid who gets picked for the basketball team at recess. Nobody wants him on their team because he’s too slow, too short, doesn’t have the right shoes, or would really rather play hopscotch with the girls. Are any of these good reasons for exclusion?

Is this a case of “saving the best for last?” For instance, as the Christmas parade, passes by, anxious children wait while floats carrying paper mache snowmen and red and green clad elves roll by followed by marching bands playing renditions of those nostalgic tunes that we all recognize as heralding the holidays. Fire trucks cruise by. Horses prance past. Every now and then there is even an ambling elephant. But all most of these excited children really want to see is the last unit of the parade – Santa Claus. Nobody thinks of watching nearly the entire parade and then leaving before the final participant has made his appearance. In this case, the last is the best, at least in the eyes of all those children who are pretty sure that they have been nice all year long.

Last is a hard place to get a grip on. Sometimes being last is a good thing and at other times it is definitely not so good. And sometimes it is hard to know the difference – like in the case of having the last word.

And then we can wrestle with the idea that “the last shall be first.”

I think I will go have a piece of candy and ponder this one a little more.

Random Thoughts

Here is a list of random thoughts in need of context. Feel free to insert them into a place that works for you.

• I wrote it down. Therefore, it is written down.
• Those who are voted most likely to succeed may fail. The converse is also true.
• Sometimes a rainbow is just a rainbow.
• If it is good for you it might actually taste good too.
• Wisdom often comes in tattered packages.
• If I have it all then I have nothing to do.
• A grown-ass woman does not need to say vajayjay.
• If you're happy and you know it say "Amen."
• A symphony is written one note at a time.
• Bananas come in different shapes and some of them are not good.
• Now I know how the moon feels.
• Make sure that the writing on the wall is legible.
• Without fear there can be no war.
• There is nothing between the lines. Really.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Laughs

Sometimes you have to wonder whether people do these things on purpose or if they are unfortunate coincidences. Or, maybe I am the only one who sees anything funny in these pictures. Actually I know that is not the case because Offspring No. 1 sent me the second picture.

Questioning Questions

Questions are an integral part of my life both personal and professionally. Speaking on a personal level, the ability to inquire, to ponder, to cogitate has been the primary vehicle for growth and transformation throughout my life. I am not fond of asking “why?” For me intrigue lies in asking “what if?”

As a teacher, questions consume a good bit of my working hours – this may be in the form of students seeking answers to their burning questions or it may be me using questions to guide my students in making a discovery about a piece of music that we are analyzing in class. Then there are those dreaded test questions. I work very hard as a teacher not to ask test questions that require my students simply to regurgitate factual material. Let’s face it, in the digital age, facts rest literally at our fingertips 24/7. We just need to know how to access the pieces of information that we need. As an educator, my role is to model for students how to use these facts, how to learn, and how to think about and articulate intelligently what they have learned. As all of my students have seen, these skills are not always honed in the subject area of music theory or even music. I will embrace any opportunity to stretch the minds of those in my classes. Often this occurs on my infamous “question #10.”

“Question 10” on all of my tests is one of “those” questions - a question with no right or wrong answer, a question that demands that the students think, a questions that forces them to reveal something of themselves, a question that requires that they write a well-formed essay. I ultimately care much less about what they say than I do how they say it.

Last week was test week in all of my classes. “Question 10” on one class’s test was, “Often the question is much more important than the answer. What one question would you like to ask and why?” The class who was given this question is a first semester class; so unless an “upper classman” warned them about my fondness for these seemingly arbitrary questions, they came to class with only information like how many keys are on a piano and the half step – whole step pattern of a harmonic minor scale on their minds. I like to catch them off guard. I know that I have succeeded in so doing when I hear from the back of the class, “I hate questions like this.” I consider such statements as affirmation that my work here is done – at least for now.

As I was grading these tests this afternoon, I received the following email from a former student, a composer who is hoping to perform one of his own compositions on his voice recital. He is speaking here of a conversation with his voice teacher.

[She} asked me on Tuesday to describe the piece to her (when I only had those few measures completed) and I have to tell you I have to thank you for all those damned essay questions. Those exams (that I really whined about) really did prepare me.

I smiled. It is all worthwhile if you profoundly touch the mind of at least one.

Ironically, questions are also this week’s theme in a group that I belong to that right now is studying spiritual journaling. We are asked to consider:

What were your favorite questions when you were a child?
What would I be willing to give up to save the world?
What is the balance between taking action and following guidance?
What do I assume?
If you had your life to live over, what would you do differently? Anything?

I should probably be responding to some of these questions rather than writing a blog post questioning questions. But why?

Morning Prayer

I have kind of a love-hate relationship with morning. I love the way the sky looks as the new day’s first light appears. I love the smell of the dew-laden ground. I love to hear the revelries of the early rising songbirds. I love the moment when the earth bids good-bye to last night’s setting moon and good morning to today’s rising sun.

I hate the fact that morning comes so early!

Our alarm goes off at 5am. That is the official alarm clock, the one that plugs into the wall and knows what the exact time is at any moment. It knows exactly when we need to be waked up and it wakes us up – no earlier than expected and no later. We also have four other alarm clocks, with four feet each and that are not nearly as reliable. Though we attempt to set these “alarm clocks” not to go off before our desired rising time, many nights something causes them to summon us to wake up at unpredictable times. No matter how many times we attempt to push their snooze button, they continue to sound. On the mornings when they have sounded all night, I REALLY don’t like the morning. When the buzzer on the real and reliable alarm sounds, it often takes a round or two of hitting the snooze button before we can begin to face the day. It should be noted here that usually by this time, the four-legged alarm clocks have settled in “for the night.”

We are usually out of bed by 5:20. The dogs and cats have been fished from beneath the covers and the bed is made. By six, we are showered and dressed, the first cups of coffee have been made, and the four-legged alarm clocks have been fed. Last year, at this point in our morning routine, Weber and I would have had thirty minutes to sit down together, eat breakfast and even skim the headlines of the morning paper. Things have changed this school year.

Traffic in our area is terrible - even at 6:30 in the morning! In the past, we left the house at 6:30 to make the forty five mile commute to school with the goal of both of us being at school by 8:00. Last year that worked. This year is doesn’t. In the first week of school, Weber was late twice. It didn’t take long for us to realize that we were going to have to adjust our morning schedule somehow.

Please God, don’t make me have to get up any earlier!

My prayer was answered. We decided that we would get up at the same time, but would leave the house at 6 rather than 6:30.

Please God, don’t make me skip breakfast! It is my favorite meal. And, I am really grumpy if I don’t eat breakfast.

This prayer too was answered. Now we leave at 6am every morning with computers, book bags, lunch boxes, another bag with breakfast, and coffee cups in our clenched hands. Neither of us likes to eat in the car so we wait until we get to my school to actually eat; this is by 7:00 most mornings. There is no line for the microwave in the teacher’s lounge at this time so we prepare our breakfast and have thirty to forty minutes to sit calmly and enjoy each other’s company. Lately we have been eating outside under the trees – and under the squirrels who toss nuts from the trees. Most mornings we are on “our” bench before the sun officially rises. This is a beautiful way to start the day.

There is less traffic on the road with us when we leave at 6:00 making for a less stressful morning commute. So, we have started listening to Daily Morning Prayer via a free podcast. This Office of the Episcopal Church is read by the Reverend Dr. Chip Lee, an Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Maryland. This has become a meaningful way to begin our day as well as spend our commuting time. It also provides us the context for a few pertinent prayers o our own.

Dear God, please help all those on the road to drive patiently and safely.

Each day, the Morning Office begins with the words.
“Lord, open our lips and our mouths shall proclaim your praise.”

Offering these words with sincerity and truth is the perfect prayer to begin each new day.

There are still days when I wish that morning came a little later, but for the most part I am settling in happily to our new morning routine.