Saturday, November 10, 2007
Keeping the Faith
My religion column, Keeping the Faith, ran in today's Patriot Ledger. Complete with a photo of Papelbon (in the print version)!
Friday, November 9, 2007
Good news
A few bright spots to share:
- We have, at long last, reached a final agreement with the school district about Brian's full-day programming. We had agreed as a team that Brian needed double-session preschool (morning and afternoon) two days a week, but there was no programming in place to occupy his time and let him eat lunch between sessions (11:00 - 12:00.) Beginning on Wednesday, he will join children who have full-day programming for that one hour. His day won't have a big interruption (I had been picking him up and taking him back an hour later) and it will give him more opportunity to practice taking the initiative in conversation and play during the recess portion of that time. And a nice plus is that my day won't be broken up any more, either.
- Report cards and progress reports came home on Wednesday, and we had Abby's parent-teacher conference yesterday. Both Abby and Brian are making good progress toward their goals. I was especially pleased with the progress reports in that they were specific, saying what the kids were doing well (and by what percentage) and what they needed to work on, and how those areas would be addressed. The areas needing improvement were no surprise, and the teachers and therapists have good plans in place to work on them.
- Timmy continues to make progress in his big boy undies. I had started a posting yesterday to brag, but then he had a big, messy accident later in the day, so I'm glad I didn't post it! But that was the first biggie since Saturday, and other than that, he's been dry all day for a couple of days running. He's also been dry at night and naptime -- an added bonus. I even took him to the Y yesterday and he did just great. We'll try it again today.
- I got another freelance assignment for the Ledger. My Ali's Place story never ran in print (although it was in the online version) and my religion feature seems to be lost in the ether, but they must like my work because they gave me more.
- My "November" piece ran in Wednesday's issue of the Tinytown Gazette. I'm not sure if the link will work because I can't seem to see the pdf on my computer. But I hear it's on page 4, titled "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."
I should mention that the only reason we reached the settlement regarding Brian's lunchtime is that Earl put so much work into it -- taking the appropriate steps to make sure the issue didn't languish; working with the SPED director (and the district's attorney); keeping the pressure on and never giving up. The kids are very lucky to have such a knowledgeable and persistent advocate. And I'm very lucky that he's willing to do that so I don't have to. I find it emotionally draining, not to mention all the time it eats up. So we're done wrangling over IEPs, until the spring. Hooray!
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Light Dawns on Marblehead
Remember that post a few days ago, where I wrote that the little envelope at the bottom of each post is for making comments? WRONG! That's for emailing the link to someone else. I now believe I have the comments feature up and running correctly. Thanks for your patience.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Egged on
My house has been shelled regularly over the last month. No, I'm not writing from Iraq. I'm at my usual post in my cozy little Cape, which has been the victim of ovoid bombing three times in as many weeks.
The first missiles found their targets in broad daylight on a Saturday. I returned from a gig and found the slimy yellow entrails half frozen to my glass front door. Oh, well, I thought as I broke out the Windex and the scrubby sponges. At least they didn't get any other window.
The car was the next victim. All Saints' Day dawned brightly with sunbeams reflecting off eggshells in the driveway. And they got the car again last night.
What to make of this? We don't have enemies in town that I'm aware of. Oh, sure, we've gone head-to-head with some school officials over our kids' special education services, but I'm hard-pressed to imagine any administrator gettin' eggy with us in the dead of night. And it's true that I've given the teenager across the street a few penetrating looks when he's blasted his music at decibel levels that would give Ozzy a headache, but I hate to think he'd be so cowardly as to take it out on my humble abode.
We spoke with a friendly police officer, who promised extra patrol cars for the area. My inner vigilante ponders a stakeout, perched in my front-yard magnolia tree, flashlight and lasso at the ready. But what if it's a drive-by? What I really need is a remote-control tire shredder, like those nasty toothy devices used to discourage rental car drivers from taking a car back out once it's been returned. Maybe I could get a permit from the DPW to install one of those things in the street. Then I could conduct surveillance from the comfort of my living room. Any suspicious slow-downs after a certain hour, and bam! The egg-launching operation will be terminated.
Arnold Schwarzenegger-type fantasies aside, the saving factor is the weather. Pretty soon the nighttime cold should discourage pranksters, whether they've been targeting us specifically or we've just been lucky. Then eggs will be restored to their rightful place in the refrigerator, rather than scrambled among the leaves -- and cars -- in the driveway.
The first missiles found their targets in broad daylight on a Saturday. I returned from a gig and found the slimy yellow entrails half frozen to my glass front door. Oh, well, I thought as I broke out the Windex and the scrubby sponges. At least they didn't get any other window.
The car was the next victim. All Saints' Day dawned brightly with sunbeams reflecting off eggshells in the driveway. And they got the car again last night.
What to make of this? We don't have enemies in town that I'm aware of. Oh, sure, we've gone head-to-head with some school officials over our kids' special education services, but I'm hard-pressed to imagine any administrator gettin' eggy with us in the dead of night. And it's true that I've given the teenager across the street a few penetrating looks when he's blasted his music at decibel levels that would give Ozzy a headache, but I hate to think he'd be so cowardly as to take it out on my humble abode.
We spoke with a friendly police officer, who promised extra patrol cars for the area. My inner vigilante ponders a stakeout, perched in my front-yard magnolia tree, flashlight and lasso at the ready. But what if it's a drive-by? What I really need is a remote-control tire shredder, like those nasty toothy devices used to discourage rental car drivers from taking a car back out once it's been returned. Maybe I could get a permit from the DPW to install one of those things in the street. Then I could conduct surveillance from the comfort of my living room. Any suspicious slow-downs after a certain hour, and bam! The egg-launching operation will be terminated.
Arnold Schwarzenegger-type fantasies aside, the saving factor is the weather. Pretty soon the nighttime cold should discourage pranksters, whether they've been targeting us specifically or we've just been lucky. Then eggs will be restored to their rightful place in the refrigerator, rather than scrambled among the leaves -- and cars -- in the driveway.
Monday, November 5, 2007
A milestone
Today is weigh-in day, and I've lost 10 pounds. 10.4, actually. I'm very proud of myself. Eight more to go. I'm finally out of the "emergency zone" -- that weight where I'm very uncomfortable with myself, rather than just a little annoyed now and then.
Of course, based on my new weight, the little fiends at Weight Watchers are taking away more calories. But I guess they know what they're doing, and I'm not starving to death, so I can do it.
Of course, based on my new weight, the little fiends at Weight Watchers are taking away more calories. But I guess they know what they're doing, and I'm not starving to death, so I can do it.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
(Early) morning offering
Bah, humbug. So much for the extra hour of sleep. The boys had been sleeping until about 7:00, so I figured I had until 6:00 this morning. Not so. It's 5:30 and they're singing "The Wheels on the Bus" to each other in the dark.
But here's what I really wanted to write: last week I went to a mini-retreat for people involved in the various ministries at my church. During a small-group discussion, when I mentioned I am not very good at being aware of God throughout my day, an acquaintance mentioned that she usually says the morning offering. I'd never heard of it -- how could I be Catholic for going on 17 years now, and be learning this for the first time? Anyway, I have been beginning my day with this simple prayer, and it definitely has brought a small, positive change in my awareness. There's something about getting in touch spiritually, and offering the entire day to God, that helps me keep things in perspective (most of the time.)
The boys must be taking an intermission. All is quiet.
And now a word from our sponsor (me):
I've been keeping this blog for nearly a month now, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. I want you to know I welcome your comments -- that's what the little envelope at the bottom of each page is for. If there's something you'd like to talk about (or disagree with), send me a comment.
Also, please feel free to forward my blog link to anyone you think might be interested in reading it. I'm not putting anything out there that I don't intend for public consumption.
Intermission must be over; I hear the alphabet song. Off to start their days. Enjoy yours!
But here's what I really wanted to write: last week I went to a mini-retreat for people involved in the various ministries at my church. During a small-group discussion, when I mentioned I am not very good at being aware of God throughout my day, an acquaintance mentioned that she usually says the morning offering. I'd never heard of it -- how could I be Catholic for going on 17 years now, and be learning this for the first time? Anyway, I have been beginning my day with this simple prayer, and it definitely has brought a small, positive change in my awareness. There's something about getting in touch spiritually, and offering the entire day to God, that helps me keep things in perspective (most of the time.)
The boys must be taking an intermission. All is quiet.
And now a word from our sponsor (me):
I've been keeping this blog for nearly a month now, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. I want you to know I welcome your comments -- that's what the little envelope at the bottom of each page is for. If there's something you'd like to talk about (or disagree with), send me a comment.
Also, please feel free to forward my blog link to anyone you think might be interested in reading it. I'm not putting anything out there that I don't intend for public consumption.
Intermission must be over; I hear the alphabet song. Off to start their days. Enjoy yours!
Friday, November 2, 2007
November
Here's a column I've submitted to The Tinytown Gazette, but I wanted to share it early:
November, November. It’s not balmy like August or glittery like December. Bare trees stand under often-gray skies, and the flowers have all gone by. It’s not the prettiest month, but I love November for a cornucopia of reasons.
It begins with my favorite church feasts: All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. I love thinking of all the good people who have gone before us and who surely are in Heaven. In particular, I remember my dear grandmother, whom I love and miss so much. I think of my uncle Howard, who died far too young (at 37) from cancer. I think of my aunt Charlene, who joined her husband a few years later. And I still remember Brian Campbell, a middle-school friend who carried around a heart problem that killed him after we had gone our separate ways in high school. I hope his little heart has been filled with joy for the twenty-something years he’s been gone.
November also brings school conferences, when I get to talk to my kids’ teachers for more than a hurried greeting on the playground. This is a new pleasure, with Abby in first grade and Brian in preschool. Even if the news isn’t all glowing, I like hearing from the people who spend the most time with my children, outside of our family. As the kids get older and more independent, conferences with their teachers give me a window on their developing lives.
The November air is crisp and chilly. No chance of sweating between the house and the car now. The leaves crackle underfoot and the sun is still warm. And when the rain comes down sideways, soaking every inch not wrapped in a raincoat, the fireside is perfect for drying out.
Of course, November’s defining holiday is Thanksgiving. That Thursday has become my favorite holiday in adulthood, replacing Christmas, which is more busy than fun. Part of the reason is that Thanksgiving always meant a four-day weekend when I was a corporate worker bee. But now that I make my own work schedule and typically host the dinner, it’s really all about the food.
For someone who likes to cook, Thanksgiving is the Super Bowl and the Fourth of July rolled into one. There’s the busy-ness of planning and preparation, trying to find the right balance of traditional favorites and horizon-expanders. There’s the shopping – done early to avoid the crowds – and delegation to guests who are eager to contribute (since I don’t make pies, it’s up to my mother-in-law. Otherwise we’ll eat Oreos for dessert.)
Then it’s game day. My master schedule is taped to the cabinet doors, and the oven is cranked. I’m happily chopping and stirring and basting all day. I usually forget to iron the tablecloth, but once it’s covered with platters and plates, no one will see the wrinkles, anyway.
Finally, the bird has rested and it’s dinnertime. Amid the culinary fireworks, there’s usually a dud, but by that time I can let it go. The wine is poured, the turkey carved, and we’re thankful for each others’ company.
After dinner, I don’t look at the reams of sale flyers that come with the newspaper. I’m a master online shopper, and already have a growing stash of gifts squirreled away. So I can enjoy the day without getting lost in anticipation of that other holiday in December.
So pour me another glass of wine, and leave the dishes, for now. Don’t mention a word about Christmas shopping. Let’s just be thankful for the people, both here and in the hereafter, that gather together with us in November.
November, November. It’s not balmy like August or glittery like December. Bare trees stand under often-gray skies, and the flowers have all gone by. It’s not the prettiest month, but I love November for a cornucopia of reasons.
It begins with my favorite church feasts: All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. I love thinking of all the good people who have gone before us and who surely are in Heaven. In particular, I remember my dear grandmother, whom I love and miss so much. I think of my uncle Howard, who died far too young (at 37) from cancer. I think of my aunt Charlene, who joined her husband a few years later. And I still remember Brian Campbell, a middle-school friend who carried around a heart problem that killed him after we had gone our separate ways in high school. I hope his little heart has been filled with joy for the twenty-something years he’s been gone.
November also brings school conferences, when I get to talk to my kids’ teachers for more than a hurried greeting on the playground. This is a new pleasure, with Abby in first grade and Brian in preschool. Even if the news isn’t all glowing, I like hearing from the people who spend the most time with my children, outside of our family. As the kids get older and more independent, conferences with their teachers give me a window on their developing lives.
The November air is crisp and chilly. No chance of sweating between the house and the car now. The leaves crackle underfoot and the sun is still warm. And when the rain comes down sideways, soaking every inch not wrapped in a raincoat, the fireside is perfect for drying out.
Of course, November’s defining holiday is Thanksgiving. That Thursday has become my favorite holiday in adulthood, replacing Christmas, which is more busy than fun. Part of the reason is that Thanksgiving always meant a four-day weekend when I was a corporate worker bee. But now that I make my own work schedule and typically host the dinner, it’s really all about the food.
For someone who likes to cook, Thanksgiving is the Super Bowl and the Fourth of July rolled into one. There’s the busy-ness of planning and preparation, trying to find the right balance of traditional favorites and horizon-expanders. There’s the shopping – done early to avoid the crowds – and delegation to guests who are eager to contribute (since I don’t make pies, it’s up to my mother-in-law. Otherwise we’ll eat Oreos for dessert.)
Then it’s game day. My master schedule is taped to the cabinet doors, and the oven is cranked. I’m happily chopping and stirring and basting all day. I usually forget to iron the tablecloth, but once it’s covered with platters and plates, no one will see the wrinkles, anyway.
Finally, the bird has rested and it’s dinnertime. Amid the culinary fireworks, there’s usually a dud, but by that time I can let it go. The wine is poured, the turkey carved, and we’re thankful for each others’ company.
After dinner, I don’t look at the reams of sale flyers that come with the newspaper. I’m a master online shopper, and already have a growing stash of gifts squirreled away. So I can enjoy the day without getting lost in anticipation of that other holiday in December.
So pour me another glass of wine, and leave the dishes, for now. Don’t mention a word about Christmas shopping. Let’s just be thankful for the people, both here and in the hereafter, that gather together with us in November.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
