Always with the tone of surprise

Beat me over the head with symbolism, why dontcha

unomesowell — Thu, 09 Jun 2016 23:24:09 GMT

Last night I dreamt in terrifying, full color realism that made me fully believe it was reality. I walked into a larger room and I saw Josh's parents standing together, whispering, sort of holding each other tightly and looking a little distraught. I followed their line of sight and saw Sydney Li sitting on the couch with a toy in her hands. She was holding a baby doll the same way she holds a real baby, on her knees facing her, with her hands underneath its head, stroking the temples. Josh was standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, looking kind of funny like they were posing for a very serious family portrait. Vi-Vi was standing facing them and talking to them but she was talking quietly, almost to herself. She didn't seem angry or sad or happy or anything, just standing there. I came over and I sat down next to Sydney Li and asked what's going on. Vi-Vi started talking and I wasn't listening like I should have. I wasn't giving her my full attention, my full focus. She was speaking calmly and quietly and she was making very intense eye contact that was making me uncomfortable. I didn't want to hear her. My eyes kept darting around the room, back-and-forth from Sydney Li and Josh to Josh's parents and I kept hearing things from their conversations. Sydney and Josh were being very quiet but I noticed that Sydney Li was being very still. She wasn't moving at all except for her thumb which she kept rubbing over the forehead and temples of the doll in her hands. And Vi-Vi wasn't moving at all. She was standing there almost limp, just looking at me and talking in a very quiet monotone. But I could hear little things from Josh's parents...things like "a granddaughter" "what are we going to do" "how can we have a granddaughter" "what are we going to do" and Josh just sat there with his hands on Sydney Li shoulder. I felt fuzzy and confused and scared and I didn't want to hear what she had to say but I knew I had to focus, this was important, she needed me. I caught the end of it and she said "I just woke up and she was there"... "I don't understand"... "I don't know what to do" ... "I don't know how this happened" ... "I don't what will happen to me now" and I figured it out in bright flashes. Flashes of her bedroom, all while she was talk and I suddenly knew the whole story all at once. I realize she was in shock because she just graduated from high school, she's 18 years old, she didn't know she was pregnant until she woke up and the baby was already here. I remembered how she had said her stomach hurt and she had gone to bed early. She was saying woke up in a bed covered with blood and after birth. And I looked over at Sydney Li, what she was holding. I realized it was a very tiny baby girl covered in blood and mucus and so brand-new and still attached to an umbilical cord. And Sydney Li wasn't acting like she was holding a baby, she wasn't acting like she was holding something gross and disgusting. But the baby wasn't crying or making any noise and Josh wasn't doing anything and none of this made any sense and I finally just sort of caught it like oh my god what just happened here. So I reached over and I gently lifted the baby off Sydney Li's lap and she sort of turned her body to me like she was going to stop me from taking the baby but when she saw that I was holding the baby carefully and I was going to be careful she continue turning until she was facing Josh and she sort of put her head on his stomach and he rubbed her back. Vi-Vi was still talking slowly and monotone and her arms were limp at her side and she was not there. She was in shock. I realize she was in pyjamas but she was dirty and messed up. She had had a terrible shock. I had help this baby girl in my arms and my baby girl. I rubbed some of the gunk off of her face because it was drying and she looked at me and she was so tiny. She wasn't at all ready. She was so tiny. And then I looked at my baby girl and she was so tiny and so not ready and this was so huge and how could this have happened? I didn't even know she had sex... I never realize she was pregnant ... and I realized I was both really excited and really terrified. I was always the one to say I didn't want my girls to have babies because I couldn't tolerate them going through all that pregnancy entails and childbirth is unbearable ... to watch my girls go through ... that but she went through it silently, like a champion, like she always does everything she wants, she once or twice complained about cramps, had probably had a little diarrhoea but ... she hadn't experience the fun of pregnancy. She missed out on all the excitement and the surrealness and the love. she'd been all alone in her room, asleep when the big moment came, and almost missed it. I know she had this huge responsibility and no idea what to do about it because she didn't plan it and it came at her suddenly and now it's here and she's unprepared and no one is ready for this. And I woke up and I was laying in my bed and Vi-Vi and Sydney Li were in my room and they were already talking to me and I said "wait where's the baby" and they looked at me like I've lost my mind. They just kept doing what they were doing, they were getting ready for something, and I said "that was a dream, Vi-Vi didn't have a baby" and they both kind of laughed a little and they said "no but it's moving day" "come on you got to get up, we got to get Vi-Vi to college" and then I woke up again. I was in my bed and it was dark and it was quiet and everyone was asleep in their bunkbeds and it was OK. But I'm still upset because my daughter really is going to college and it is scary and it is exciting and she isn't prepared for it and she's always had huge responsibilities but missed out on some of the fun of childhood and I'm not ready for her to go to college and I'm not ready for her to move on into some adult life without me when she didn't get to experience the fun and she is really, really tiny...

A Calculated Risk

unomesowell — Mon, 03 Aug 2015 02:14:27 GMT

I announced on Facebook I was starting my new job tomorrow. Tbh I was looking for good luck to sooth my first day jitters. But I refrained from stating what my new job is. I'm not embarrassed by what I'm doing but the first couple of people I told gave me sympathy. I get the impulse but geeze that's not at all soothing!lol it made me feel defensive and I tried to justify it by saying yes it is outside my comfort zone but I have to do what's best for my kids. But that's not it, not really. I'm here on LJ to talk it out and see if I can explain the unexpected turn I've taken and why I actually am more excited than if I had gone in the direction you expected.

Let's get this out of the way first. Yes, I got my degree in education, yes I substitute taught for a few years and then spent 3 years teaching autistic and special needs adults vocational skills. Yes I keep a file open on my phone to write up lesson plans *for fun* which I am told is rarely fun for most teachers. This new job is not teaching. And That's Ok.
My new job is for a life insurance company that provides for unions exclusively. They found my resume on line, a headhunter called me to interview, I took the state licensing exam and I passed it. On My Own. While working 70hrs a week. I sent my daughter to Boston and San Franscisco when she was going to receive awards and explore Ivy League colleges. I did that. Just me. I make so little money I hold my breath when I pay the bills but I saved and sent her out. Me.
When I was offered this job my first step was to bring it before the kids and discuss the risks. We are a team. I couldn't do this without them and they know I do everything for them.
True, I work on commission. That's a huge risk. I might end up working a lot of hours. Well guess what? I get hit at my current job. That's a risk. I work tons of hours and I still just get by. If I can work the same hours but actually benefit directly from my own efforts? Tell me that isn't better!
So the next reaction to that is a dialing back of sympathy and the addition of pride... But not the good kind! Oh you are such a good mom, giving up your dream to make money to give your kids a better life. Ok yeah sure the money is definitely a part of it but I'm no martyr. I'm in this to win it. My kids are my dream. My Only Dream. If you know me you have heard me say for YEARS that I don't care if they are doctors lawyers or grocery store naggers as long as they are happy. I love my job. Honest. It's physical and ever changing and full of stories both entertaining and terrifying. But I've been told to my face that this does not make me a teacher. I've felt under appreciated and sorely under paid.
This new job? That outside of my comfort zone line I mentioned? Guess what. It's joy. It's happiness at an adventure. It's confidence I can do it and pride in providing a service to nurses, teachers, firemen all the union workers and their families. Damn skippy that's outside my comfort zone! I don't know what to do with confidence! I'm actually scared of making real money! Turns out my dream is not to be a teacher. My dream is to be happy! To make my kids happy and feel proud of them and they of me! I'm not sad for me and neither should you be. I am closer to achieving my dream than I have ever been before.
As of tomorrow I am a Union Life Insurance Advocate. "We bring minor miracles to terrible tragedy." It's crazy to say out loud but here it goes: I can do this. I can do it really well. I have never been afraid of hard work. I'm only afraid of working hard with nothing to show for it.
Be happy for me! Adventure awaits!

Cheer for all the kids because everyone has a struggle

unomesowell — Tue, 19 May 2015 14:25:45 GMT

I am so happy the 8th grade class broke the rules and stood to cheer for the boy with Down syndrome and the girl in a helmet. They made some special kids feel very important today. But knowing there is acceptance in the world makes my sons struggle that much more obvious to me. Autism is secretive and dark and it doesn't put on benign public smile. So yes I was a lone voice in a silent auditorium cheering for my boy. He graduated from 8th grade. I know it's not a big deal and parents complain about celebrating every stupid thing but autism is progressive. We didn't know if he'd make it this far. We don't know how far he will go from here. But today... He made it. I'm loud and I'm proud and I will cheer for a baby who doesn't like loud noises or big crowds because there isn't ever going to be a standing ovation for his fight and he'd hate it if there was. But be embarrassed on behalf of all teen boys everywhere. He's not entirely sure why he's supposed to be embarrassed but he knows everyone else is lol

Missing moment for Hunger Games WRITTEN BY MY DAUGHTER!!!

unomesowell — Thu, 19 Dec 2013 02:35:04 GMT

What About My Sister?

I’m panicking. I stand as still as possible and hope with everything I have that neither of us will be noticed and we can survive another year. Her name is in there 20 times. She thinks that I am worried for myself, because my name is in the Reaping this year, but I’m not. I know my chances. I knew the day I turned twelve. I begged her to let me put my name in more! She wouldn’t listen! I don’t know what I’d do without her.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

I freeze. My blood freezes in my veins. My heart stops. My breathing stops. What am I going to do without Katniss? If I don’t take a step forward then I will pass out. If I do take a step forward I'm doomed.

“PRIM!”

Katniss calls my name and I know I’m going to cry. Stop talking. Don’t call my name. I know I can do this, just don’t remind that I am not alone in this world. I take a few tentative steps forward. My legs feel like lead and I can feel a thousand pairs of eyes staring at me. Burning holes into my back. A thousand sighs of relief kept inside because they were not chosen. Nowhere in the mix do I hear my mother. I have no idea where she is. I don’t even know if she is registering what is happening. Katniss is struggling with the Peace Keepers who try to keep her back. I don’t want her to come near me because then I know I will lose it.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

No. No! That's not supposed to happen! A thousand gruesome images cross my mind of Hunger Games, years past. She escaped! All those times that her name was in the Reaping and she escaped. Why is she throwing herself back into the mix?

The announcer, Effie Trinket, looks agast. So far as I know, no one has ever volunteered in District 12. Someone around me is crying and screaming. I can’t figure out who it is until Katniss pushes wet fingers across my face. I’m crying. I can’t deal with this. She is all I have left in the world. She tells me to go to Mother but I don’t want to. Mother can’t keep Katniss safe.

Katniss is pushed towards the stage and she walks forward. She looks determined. Her jaw is clenched and I know this wouldn’t be happening to her if it wasn’t for me. This is all my fault. I am too weak to protect myself so Katniss has to throw her life in front of mine. Doesn’t she know we won’t survive without her?

My mind doesn’t even register the boy tribute. I don’t register the same pain that his family is going through. My mind goes numb. I work on numbing my emotions.

If Katniss is going to win... no, survive the Hunger Games, then the other tributes can no longer be people to me. They are merely objects in the way of my sister.

Peace Keepers approach me and say that my Mother and I are allowed to say goodbye to “the tribute”.

“Katniss,” I blurt out.

“What?” He says. He looks at me for second like no one has ever done that before.

“Her name is Katniss and she is coming back.” My voice quivers at the end but my message was sent. One of the Peace Keeper’s face softens. Recognition flashes in his eyes.

“I know,” he says, “she always shot the eye.” He must been one of the Peace Keepers that my sister sold her illegal game to. My throat tightens and my eyes well with tears but I refuse to cry in front of him.

We walk briskly, but all I want to do run. I want to run past the last place I might ever see my sister. I want to run past the place where the Peace Keepers are dragging me. I want to run past it all and forget. I don’t want anyone to see because then they will know it's my fault, too. They will all know...

My feet shuffle into something. I look down. We have reached the staircase to the building. My final goodbyes with my sister. My legs weigh me down as I walk. The air thickens around me. It’s getting harder to breathe. I’m suffocating. I burst through the doors and there she is. I run to her before she can move.

*insert book lines here*

I don’t hear what she says to mother. I know though. Katniss is afraid, not of the capital and the games, but that mother will leave me again. That mother will be gone and I will have no one. I want to cry louder and hold on. I don’t want to ever let her go. She has to win. No matter what.

On my way out with my mother, I see Gale walk into the building escorted by two Peace Keepers. They have a tight grip on his arms like he might run. He would. He would run if he thought it would protect anyone. I help my mother shuffle home. She has already begun to retreat but there is something in her eyes that says she is trying not to. I will have to talk to Gale tomorrow.

***

Every morning I wake up shivering. The nightmares plague my sleep. Katniss calling my name. Katniss sleeping and getting ambushed while she sleeps. I sit up. I don’t sleep in my bed anymore, I sleep in front of the television. In the richer districts, the broadcasts are 24 hours. In District 12, the television flickers on when the fighting starts. It’s just another way the capital controls us. Nothing has happened for a couple of hours now. I should eat something while I have the chance.

Lady hasn’t been milked in a couple of days. I haven’t had the motivation to do much. It’s been three days since Katniss first entered the Arena. I was relieved when she managed to escape the cornucopia, but her trek through the Arena makes her less the focus of the Capital cameras. I wish I could tell her everything. I wish I could tell her about the other tributes that would move in her direction. I wish I could tell her not to trust Peeta.

I hate Peeta. The boy tribute from my district has made it harder and harder for Katniss to win. First, he claims he loves her, but then he joins the careers and he keeps leading them closer to her. I wish the careers would kill him so he would be out of the way. Katniss doesn’t even know that he is using her.

Gale knocks on the door. With Katniss, Gale was always relaxed and could be himself. Recently he has become withdrawn. Rory says that Gale has been trading more of the game that he hunts in the black markets and with Greasy Sae. Rory is just like his brother. He tries so hard to remain cold and unattached to things, but you can see that he cares.

“Here.” Gale tosses a bag of rabbit in my direction and it lands on the table. He knows that Katniss had always prepared any meat in the past, and that I don’t know how to properly clean anything or prepare it. The rabbit is skinned and cleaned.

He turns to leave again, but I stop him just before he steps over the threshold.

“Wait...” There’s not really a good way to say this, but I need him to know. “Please, I’m worried about her too... but... You’re going to get yourself caught!”

Gale takes a deep breath before he turns again. His face is a mask. I can’t read him. “You sound like her.” He’s referring to Madge. “She was down by the Fence again trying to stop me.” The way he says it you know he feels threatened. “You don’t understand. If I don’t give what I have to sponsor her, she won’t make it...” His voice trails off like he just realized who he was talking to. He exhales loudly and waves. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walks out the door before I can say anything else.

I go to my mother. She hasn’t left her bed since the Reaping day. She refuses to watch the games despite my constant warnings that she will get it trouble.

“Gale brought rabbit,” I whisper. She rolls over. Her eyes are glassy and the bags underneath tell me she hasn’t slept, despite laying in her bed. She sees the television begin to glow behind me and averts her eyes. I spin around quickly to see what’s happening. The girl from 8 has started a fire and the camera pans out to show the audience that the careers are nearby and hunting her. I feel bad but Katniss is nowhere in the vicinity so I turn back to mother. She has rolled back over and refuses to look at me. Nothing I say will convince her at this point. I no longer have an appetite either.

I return to my position in front of the glowing screen, my only connection to Katniss anymore. My eyes blur with tears. Gale is beyond reason. The Hawthorne’s are going to starve. My mother is killing herself slowly. I am all alone in District 12, but what about my sister?

Possible review post for Booking.com

unomesowell — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 14:24:47 GMT

I guess you could say the motel we got was less than advertised.

Review: As advertised, the first thing you see as you enter the motel is a sumptuous black leather couch, big screen tv, mini fridge, coffee pot and microwave. You failed to mention that these, along with a large and varied display of condoms, lubes and hot-pockets, were behind bullet proof glass. Ah. Managers quarters. The outside of the establishment has been carefully tailored to mimic early '70's trailer park; each small plot of dust and rocks sporting is own unique chicken wire fence or garden gnome.

All of this clues us in to what to expect in our actual room. There are two lamps attached to the walls and two high school era fluorescent tubes hung from the ceiling. One of each is missing a bulb. Every light, phone cord and electrical appliance is given an extension cord so they may be plugged into outlets in the ceiling, creating a visual "modern rainforest" of browns and oranges. . Apparently, this was easier than making the wall extensions work? You obviously saw no need for other decorations. There are no blinds on the window and we discovered that the curtains were too small, both length and width wise, allowing a large L of sunshine to wake us at dawn. This was fine as there was no alarm clock provided.

Every sheet, pillowcase, blanket and towel had at least one visible cigarette burn in it. This is unusual in a nonsmoking room. The closet has no door, no shelf, no bar and no hangers. The closet is quite literally a hole in the wall. The bathroom, however, is large with a thick exterior door, sound proof walls, large faux marble tiles (except for the floor tiles which were rescued from the YMCA a few decades ago) and a five foot by seven foot mirror. There is also a large storm drain in the center of the room, perfect for more nefarious reasons than my current family vacation.

In short, the facility was not what I had in mind for my daughter and I. However, the bed was large and comfortable, the hourly rates quite reasonable and the buy two get one free hot pocket and condom offer not to be missed. I will definitely pass this on to my "Daddy" and the rest of the girls on the corner.

Sincerely,

Candy Zippers

Room 7

Moral outrage, anyone?

unomesowell — Thu, 30 Aug 2012 19:37:08 GMT

Moral outrage, anyone?

   Let me preface this by saying I am not going to sue anyone nor am I going to stake a civil rights claim or call in the NAACP or anything else. However, we "privileged white people" rarely get to display righteous indignation so I thought I would share something with you. I am looking to rent a two bedroom apartment for me and my three children. (There are no three bedroom apartments within the school district borders and I couldn't afford it if they did. Not that there is any justification or excuse for what just happened, simply so you know all the facts.) So, I called a place that said they would not have a two bedroom available until October but that a one bedroom would be open until the end of the week if I just wanted to get a feel for the place, take the tour. So I showed up and had a little conversation with a woman, mid fifties, white, soon to be proven conservative. When asked, I said I needed the two bedroom for myself and my three children. She balked and said there was a city ordinance against it and she would not be able to rent a two bedroom to a single mother with three kids.

I called city hall.

   They said there is no ordinance. They said the apartments are zoned individually based on square footage and they did not care who slept where or what the ages of the people were as long as it did not exceed the maximum capacity for residency. The woman even laughed and said it wouldnt matter if we put cots in the kitchen and kept the bedrooms for our arcade games.

I called the apartment back.

   I explained to the woman who answered what had happened that day and what city hall had said. Then I asked "Do you have any apartments available that are zoned for four people regardless of relationship?" Instead of answering she transferred me to the woman I had met with that day. I again explained what city hall had said. She asked me -point blank- what the ages and sexes of the children were and who would be sleeping in which rooms. I said two girls in one room, my son and I in the other. She said she did not think that would be an acceptable situation. I asked very straightforward and clearly "Are you objecting to me sleeping in the same room as my son?" She said yes. I asked if that was the apartment complex policy or her personal opinion. She said it was simply not right for that to happen. She said if they were renting through section 8 the government would frown upon it as well although she was quick to "reassure" me that they do not rent to section 8. I said, "I don't feel that my sleeping arrangements should regulate whether you rent to me or not, but for the sake of argument, my son is autistic." That's as far as I got before she said that if he was special needs then presumably he would need assistance through the night and proximity would be important and of course I could come see the apartment and made an appointment immediately.

So there you go. Plain and simple this was prejudicial, right? Someone's antiquated ideas of separate sexes ( or should I assume the worst and question if she thought I could be a sexual predator?) kept me out of housing because I couldn't possibly move in there after all that could I? I would love to hear some opinions on this...

Ok, I fell. Stop looking at me.

unomesowell — Sat, 04 Aug 2012 15:02:41 GMT

So yesterday I fell. Not like tripped over anything or got pushed, no, I fell off the sidewalk. There were witnesses and I was sure I was more embarrassed than hurt. When the shock wore off I realized hurt is actually very prominent. My right knee got a good grazing and is swollen but it should heal pretty quickly. My left leg is hamburger. not really, it actually a nice case of road rash which I do not appreciate in the slightest because my left knee has been making a sad grinding noise for at least a week so this is not helpful. anyway I had to clean out the gravel and that made me nearly pass out but it is clean now and I don't see anything worthy of stitches. My middle girl assures me it doesn't look like it will not be too cosmetic when it heals which is nice. She worries about those thing, I don't. I did look up road rash and I may have something called a tattoo but we will face that when it gets here. Anyway it hurts like hell but my embarrassment is still high. My baby sisters baby shower is tomorrow and I will have to wear shorts since my knee is still pretty leaky so everyone is gonna ask and I have to say I fell off a sidewalk. that is unless I come up with a better answer.

Suggestions on how to answer 'What happened to your leg?'

Christa. : I heard they were putting motorcycle racing in the 2016 Olympics. They aren't.
Me: I cut myself shaving.
Thomas. : I got into a bar fight.

Got anything better?

Spoilerific-ish

unomesowell — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 17:24:12 GMT

Spoilerific-ish

So we finally watched The Woman in Black with Daniel Radcliffe. Vang hates all things Harry Potter so normally I wouldn't even watch something staring an actor with him, knowing full well he was going to mock. But since the kids were already calling it Harry Potter gets Haunted by the Grey Lady I figured what the hell. And honestly, I am the worlds biggest chicken and even with only a PG13 rating I probably couldn't handle it without daylight, humor and a room full of people.

Ok so here are the comments I wrote down while they watched it. Please understand this in no way disrespectful. We were scared out of our freaking minds for most of the film.

So the cycle went like this:
*Mock mock mock*
*full body involvement in plot*
*SCREAM*
*mood breaking humor*

So our mocking... Two girls, nearly 13 & 15, plus me and an old asian guy.

"On the train to Hogwarts again? I thought he graduated!"
"Yer a lawyer, Harry."
"Oh my god monkey heads." > "It is the highest honor to have your head on the wall."
"Don't go through the veil, Harry!" >"But I hear voices!"
"Even in the wizarding world, Harry, hearing voices isn't good."
"He can't understand you, Crow. He only talks to snakes."
"Alohamora!"
"He won't give up. Harry Potter never gives up."
"Somebody give him a stick! ABRACADABRA! ABRACADABRA! OH MY GOD ABRACADABRA! *SCREAMS*
*frantic whispering* alohamora alohamora alohamora oh my god oh my god Revilio! REVILIO! *SCREAMS*
"I'm not the only one thinking 'enemies of the heir beware', right?"
*deeply respectful tones* "Lumos."
"He can't die. He's the boy who lived."
"He's died before."
"At a train station, too."

Loved it, terrified of it, will not be able to watch it again, or stop talking about how good it is. Must. Read. Book.

Long Term Pencil Theft Deterrent System

unomesowell — Wed, 25 Jul 2012 00:46:02 GMT

Watch out cause I'm about to get genius in here!

Ok, so you know how teachers are constantly losing pencils? They get creative - trade me your shoe for my pencil - they get cutesy - my pens are taped to giant flowers you can't accidentally walk away with - but in the end the pencils still disappear. So here's my plot...

http://www.orientaltrading.com/mega-personalized-pencil-assortment-a2-47_362-12-1.fltr?Ntt=personalize+pencils

This link says I can have 72 pencils for $18 and I can personalize them for free. They even show a picture that say "Mrs. Teacher's Favorite Pencil" as if that level of guilt will encourage the children to return the pencils they borrow. I think we need to kick that guilt up a notch.

MY PENCILS will say "Shame On You Pencil Thief".

Don't roll your eyes at me. I know that doesn't sound like much in the guilt department. I am certainly aware that it's not enough to make the pencil thief return my pencil! The genius is in the long term torture. Observe...

My pencil when stolen: Shame On You Pencil Thief
The Thief: *shamelessly uses pencil, only gives writing a minor glance until time to sharpen*
My Pencil: *loses "Thief" to pencil sharpener* becomes a "Shame On You Pencil"
Thief: *uses the "Shame on You Pencil" a bit more furtively waiting to sharpen again*
Pencil: *loses "Pencil" to sharpener*
Thief: * posses a pencil that proclaims "Shame On You* *becomes anxious to sharpen again*
Pencil: * loses "You" and encourages disdainfully encourages the user to simply "Shame On"*
Thief: *can sense the frustration and judgement of the pencil but feels one more sharpening will bring the pencil down to size*
Pencil: * becomes The Pencil of "Shame"* tut tut tut
Thief: * has learned a valuable lesson*

Feel free to steal this and pass it on. You know you want to.

Hogwarts Spell Stations

unomesowell — Wed, 11 Jul 2012 18:20:08 GMT

This is my third and final Eleventh Harry Potter Birthday Party. *sniff* I had a high standard to live up to. I feel like I need aspecial little elixer to make it all work but barring that I would love your opinions. Thanks!

Thomas's Eleventh Birthday with Hogwarts Spell Stations

Headmaster:

Mama

Students:

Zack, Matt, Caydan, Thomas

Head Girls/Prefects:

Vi-Vi (Zack), Sydney Li (Thomas), Camille (Cayden), Kate (Matt)

1. Sort into houses, explain I award house points but observing Prefects may comment on opposing teams who seem to have earned rewards/disciplines

2. Wingardium Leviosa (Flying lessons): Two balloons are taped to two straws which are strung between two chairs, respectively. When inflated the balloons display hand drawn broom riders! The balloons are inflated and released simultaneously so that the straws will wiz down the string. The rider to get to the end first, or travel the farthest as the case may be, is the winner. We have four houses so the two winners will face off for race champion!

3. Bombarda (Quid ditch Practice): This is a golf ball toss game in which two golf balls are attached to the end of a short piece of rope. The balls are thrown at a square hoop so that the balls either travel pass or wrap around the hoop. The top hoop is worth more points than the bottom loop. The house with the most points wins.

4. Immobulous/Petrificus Totalus (Freeze tag): One house is it and they are in charge of tagging other houses. They must yell one of the two spells to freeze the player in place. Another house can unfreeze you. If all houses are frozen the last person tagged becomes it. The house which remains unfrozen the longest wins.

5. Wingardium Leviosa (DA Lessons): We have taken four pool noodles in the house colors and duct taped them into a square hoop toss. This is hung from the porch to give height. Death Eater Masks have been hung inside each hoop for target practice. Houses must toss a football through the hoop while calling out the spell. Bonus points for getting it through your own house color.

6. Accio (DA Lessons): Like egg toss, two houses face each other and toss a water balloon back and forth between them making the gap increasingly bigger with each toss. To signal you are ready to catch the balloon you must yell Accio Water balloon! The houses that get the farthest away before exploding win. The two winning houses face off for champion.

7. Bombarda (Death Eater Skirmishes): Water balloons are hidden Easter egg style throughout back yard, waiting to be found and used against other houses. The driest house wins.

At this point the boys are tired and need a break so we eat dinner, outside since they are all wet now. During the meal I quiz them for bonus House points, simple trivia and spells used during the party so you don’t have to be a devoted fan to win some points!

8. Stupefy/avada cadavra (Final Battle): We have a very nice set of Laser Tag so the boys face off in the Final Battle around our front and back yard while prepare the birthday cake and House Awards.

9. Announce and Award house points, lowest to highest like Dumbledore. Then the boys play Harry Potter video games and eat cake until 8pm.

10. The sleep over portion begins at 8pm and last until 10 am the next morning. This gives us only enough time to play the entire Harry Potter Movie Marathon if someone promises to man the DVD continuously. If this person should fall asleep on duty, chaos.

Extras:

Lumos: glow sticks in the shape of Horcruxes (Diary, Ring, Necklace, Cup, Crown, and Snake) have been hidden in the sleeping bags

House cups: small plastic trophies full of house color gushers

Dinner: green Hawaiian punch, soft pretzels, nacho bar- chips, cheese, ground meat (there is not theme here, just his favorite foods *shrugs*)

Cake/ice cream: individual cauldron cakes - spiral hoho's cut into 1/2 in thick slices line a bowl and then the bowl is filled with ice cream and frozen solid again. Before serving the cake is removed from the bowls so it stands alone with the swirl pattern on display. Then it is topped with green or blue cotton candy and sprinkled with pop rocks.

Snacks: trail mix potion- gummy worms, cheese puffs, Reeses, skittles, pretzels (gross, right?)

Breakfast: Quaffle waffles (actually they are smores pancakes but doesn’t that sound cuter?)

Talking to ones self

unomesowell — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 12:25:56 GMT

Me: I have to remember these three things...
Me: uh oh. You said that aloud. I'm doing it again.
Me: doing what?
Me: talking to myself...?
Me: oh. You're right that's not good.
Me: Every word you mutter brings you closer to your Mudder...
Me: Oh! That's good! I like that!
Me: I thought so!

Day 2 Professional Development

unomesowell — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 00:51:31 GMT

These conferences are wonderful but they are two days back to back from 8am to 5 pm and that is A LOT of being lectured to.

Today there were only two lectures of value to me. One was called Sex and the Autistic: Yes we need to talk about it. She said this was a tricky subject for everyone and we would need to loosen up first so she had what she called an "Ellen Moment" in which she played Justin Timberlake's "I'm Brining Sexy Back" and we were all supposed to dance. Please keep in mind this was 300 mothers, grandmothers, classroom teachers and therapists. It was INSANE. I know we dont club much people but this is not really on TV...

I read her book called "When can I touch myself?" and it was lovely and endearing and I wanted to buy it on the spot.

I cant say I learned anything drastically new from her but it did reassure me that I am handling our issues correctly. My first goal is to make sure he doesn't do something that puts him in danger and my second goal is to make sure he doesn't feel shame for the most normal reaction he has ever had in his life.

The last speaker of the day was a man with Asperger who has written four books and published one called "Finding Kansas". He told alot of stories and spoke a mile a minute plus he repeatedly gasped and clapped his hands but it was wonderful to see a boy who had been through what we go through seem happy and accomplished. He had real hope to offer. He named his book Finding Kansas because he loves putting together the USA puzzle and Kansas was always hes "sensory candy" because of its squared off edges. He used that to explain all kinds of aspects about the Aspergers from the inside and refered to all of their obsessions as their Kansas. He even told this great story about how even at 29 he cant stand when food touches, and every thanksgiving his aunt heaps her plate with a big blob of touching food and then taug=nts him with it asking if he wants to share the plate with her, too much for one person and all that. She bought a door mat thats says "We're not in Kansas anymore" LOL He told countless stories about boring teachers and relatives to tears with his Kansas talk and how they love him enough to put up with it.

At the end I raised my hand and told them about Thomas. I said he is making progress towards having friendsa but its delicate and I worry about having a themed biurthday. "Would it be considered abusive to subject typical kids to his idea of the perfect party? Four hours of Kansas talk?" It got a huge laugh and severeal people came up and talked to me afterwards. One mom cried about how amazing it is when you finally know they have a friend and we hugged and I gave her a tissue.

I really am glad I went. Feel free to buy me that book Santa Claus.

Professional development

unomesowell — Wed, 06 Jun 2012 02:06:58 GMT

I went to Day 1 of the St. Louis Autism Conference. I went for two reasons: Professional development, special needs in the classroom, and my son Thomas, diagnosed asbergers over a year ago. If neither of those make you want to read this, than read it to find out why men might use a sock for toilet paper.

Let me say there were some very good speakers and some very poor ones so I won't go in order nor give equal credit but only mention the most notable bits...

There were three breaks and before each one they gave out awards to notable individuals in the field. Two senators, for reforming laws and forcing them to remove the word retarded from legal legislature. A doctor for publishing new information on genetics that may someday lead somewhere... He was a key note speaker and no matter how enthusiastic he was about his subject he was astoundingly boring and talked to us like we were geneticists and had some clue what he was talking about. But one award went to a group of three 11 year olds and it made me cry.

This little girl tried to make friend with a new boy in class but he wouldn't look at her. She told her mom and her mom gave her a book about Autism spectrum. She understood and tried new ways to be his friend. It was better until people started teasing him and calling her his girlfriend. So she said she would get a second boy to be their friend too because no one made fun of Hermione for having two boys as friends. When their friendship as a trio worked out she decided everyone should try harder. So the three of them developed a 9 month curriculum they got implemented in their school called The Road to Embrace Autism with Care and Heart. REACH. You should have seen how the boys looked to her for direction. They were amazing. It was worth it just for that.I cried though because they were the same age as my son and my son has no friends. Not one. Where was his Hermione?

I learned that the number one killer of people on the autism scale, of any age, race or gender, is drowning. They wander away and are attracted to water whether they can swim or not.My Thomas believes with all his heart that he is an amazing swimmer. We took him to Johnson's Shut Ins and we lost him when he wandered away for almost an hour.

It ended with a panel of siblings of autistic children discussing how it feels to love someone different. It was reassuring for me but mostly it reinforced my belief that children should not be handed microphones. It went something like "Autism is like a heart monitor with ups and downs but if you flip it over the downs are ups! Well then the ups would be downs too wouldn't they? Ok autism is like a mountain and you could co queer it or you could say no I see that mountain but it's too hard so I will stay here in the valley and raise two cows and a sheep and I will love my sheep and be happy. But what if one day you want to climb that mountain? So you put up the sheep and start climbing. You have to watch out for bears and stuff but that's ok. You find a cave and take a nap and maybe there is an avalanche so you are stuck in your cave and you think I wish I had stayed in my valley with my two sheep and my dog. Wait was it a dog? Did I say dog or cow? I think I said cow, right? God I lost my train of thought. The train is derailed and there is a pile up. People are honking their horns cause they need to get to work and" you get the picture.

My favorite part was a man who makes his living talking to emergency response teams, firemen, police men, stuff like that. He said if a pediatrician can't diagnose autism in 10 seconds then we can't expect a cop to but they have to be able to tell the difference between a drug user and a wandering naked autistic man. Especially when that man screams at siren, stands way to close and try's to touch your gun without permission. So the part that got to me the most, and the only reasons someone might scan this post, went like this.

It's best if you picture a large balding man with a beer gut and pit stains. Nice, but rather pathetic.

"Women, I have never actually been in a women's public restroom so let me make sure I have the facts straight. Is it true that women are allowed to speak with others, even stragers, within the confines of a public restroom?" *laughter* "Something like 'Hey girl, that blouse is cute? Where did you get it, Honey?'" *laughter* "Ok good. And if you should be using the facilities..." At this point he dragged over a chair and sort of perched uncomfortably over it. "Am I to understand you do not actually sit,but instead hover over said toilet?" *laughter* "If you were hovering and using the facilities and you discovered to your dismay that there was no paper available to you, you would feel comfortable making a request of the complete stranger in the stall besides you?" *laughter* "That if this request were made of you, you would swath your hand in toilet paper and thrust it under the stall barrier to help the person out?" *demonstrates while hovering* *laughter and agreements*

So he sits down and explains that this is a major problem. See 4 in 5 autistic are male while 90+% of caregivers (mothers, special educators, therapists) are women. We tend to teach by example and also very formally. We teach our rule based Autistic sons that if they meet someone new they can walk up, put out their hand for shaking and say "Hello! My name is Tom! Whats your name?" We teach them what we know and cannot be expected to teach them what we don't know, right?

"So back to this restroom. If I were forced into a sitting situation in a public restroom, first there would be no hover. I need to sit, I sit." *laughter as he sits in the chair again* "The average man, should he discover there is no paper, would rather USE HIS SOCK rather than ask the man in the next stall of assistance." *laughter* In fact, if the man in the stall next to me were to ask such a favor, I, as an educator, would immediuately assume he were in some way mentally impaired." *laughter* I would in no way respond to such an insane request." *laughter* "In fact, I would finish my buisness quickly, remove the entire roll from the spool, walk to the door and toss the entire rool in the general direction of his stall before racing to my car as fast as poissible beofre any one noticed I had done anything in response to the request!" *laughter*

"Imagine this restroom for a minute. Side of the highway, rest stop, late night. A man is standing just outside the restroom door, maybe he's smoking. And another man approaches him, puts his hand out and say "Hello! My name is Tom! Whats your name?" One of three things is going to happen. Either the first man is going to assume the second man is making a pass and punch him in the face, thereby reasserting his manhood because he assumes the second man is a prostitute and that you assumed he was gay so the second man is getting a beating. Or the first man may assume the second man is a prostitute making a pass at him and call the police, thereby reasserting his manhood and the first man is now an offender. Or the first man may assume the second man is a prostitute and takes him up on the supposed pass and the second man becomes a victim of abuse because he is ill equipped to stop what is happening." *stopped being funny*

Beaten, Abused or Offender. I dont think I will ever forget that.

I really am glad I went. I learned a lot. I cant wait until tomorrow.

Reminders

unomesowell — Thu, 03 May 2012 13:09:37 GMT

I am a good person.
I work hard at the day to day and harder at my future endeavors.
I have no doubts that I am meant to teach.
If I keep pursuing opportunities eventually I will find where I belong.
I will be patient with myself and my children.
There are people on my side.
I am not alone.
Someday, I will shine.

karmic endeavors

unomesowell — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 00:00:30 GMT

Warning: If you have a high respect for me that includes the belief that I am sweet, considerate and would never hurt a fly then I suggest you move on and don't read this, move on, hold that ideal me safe in your mind.

If you wanna laugh maniacally at the karmic fall of a man who did me wrong, well then promenade with me!

Brief Recap: I am a 30+ mother of three who went back to school to get my teaching degree. I am that perfect mixture of "too old to fall for your shit" and young enough to believe my enthusiasm will help make a difference in your life. (Don't worry. I hate me a little too.)

My school does two semester of internship, one semester watching assisting in the classroom and the second actually teaching in that same class. I was put in a well known district where I loved every minute of everyday and couldn't wait to jump in. the few days we had a sub I got to actually teach and was thrilled with my results. the teacher wasn't much of a sharer... wouldn't let me in on the lesson plans that were coming up or hand over copies of materials but I figured who cares? when I teach I will use my own ingenuity and wherewithal and teach this class my way. I had summer break between my two semesters and in that time he divorced his wife and found a hatred for all things female. I brought home notebooks full of his written criticism, daily lectures about how selfish I am and how I only care about myself and, my favorite, his advice to get out of the business now because I am not and never will be a teacher. I had myself removed, was placed in a rough school where I had an amazing guide to help me break my teeth and truly believe I learned what it means to be a teacher.

Cut to today.

About a month ago I was in a mall where the free sample girl was one of my students from that time. I run into these kids a lot and surprisingly they always recognize me and smile. Trying to be polite I ended the conversation with, If you see Mr. Church tell him I said Hi!" while secretly thinking and stab him in the eye for me. She said, Oh, you didn't hear? he got fired. it was a huge scandal!" she got busy and I couldn't remember her name so I could dig for dirt but I was secretly hoping she knew what she was talking about.

Today I went to a teacher job fair. HE WAS THERE.

Insert Unkind Pointing and Laughing.

Poorly shaved, cheaply suited, looking just as desperate as the rest of us because at some point in any interview he was going to have to explain how he got fired and why.

I don't know the details and I may never find out. But. But. I have to remember all the people he told he could do anything he wanted because he was tenured. I have to remember the girls he judged harshly, his utter disdain for effort and perceived failure in everyone but himself. I have to believe that that Karma sank her big bitchy teeth into his pedantic douchy little ass and taught him a teacher is a teacher at all times, not just to those you like, the pretty faces, the popular crowd, the ones who have earned your knowledge.

AWESOMSAUCE

unomesowell — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 21:13:53 GMT

My girl had an assignment to write a love song but she is so smart and sophisticated she said no middle schooler knows a thing about love so she wrote a parody about a middle schooler in love! Sing along to the music video. I swear you will be impressed!

Dumb Love
(to tune of “We Are Young” by Fun)
By Vi-Vi

Hold on just a second now
I have to get your story straight
You tell me you’re in love with him
But you only passed the 7th grade

My mother she is waiting for me
Just inside the car
You tell me your boyfriend he’s gonna
Be a famous football star and

You know he was a nerd two months ago
You say you’re trying to forget
But between the eyes and beiber hair
The jealous girls and their cold stares
Your friend says she really doesn’t want him back

But if by the time the bell rings
And the word has got around
Your name will be known

Tonight----
You are dumb
So you set Facebook on fire
It burned brighter
Than your quotational love

Tonight----
You are dumb
So you set Facebook on fire
It burned brighter
Than your quotational love

I know that he’s not
The only boyfriend you’ve got
I guess I, I just thought
That you were somewhat smart
You’ll never take it back
You’re so over that
Is that really how you want to be known?

Tonight----
You are dumb
So you set Facebook on fire
It burned brighter
Than your quotational love

Tonight----
You are dumb
So you set Facebook on fire
It burned brighter
Than your quotational love

Texting (hahahaha)
Statuses on Facebook (hahahaha)
Updating on Twitter (hahahaha)
Web chatting on ooVoo (hahahaha)

Texting (hahahaha)
Statuses on Facebook (hahahaha)
Updating on Twitter (hahahaha)
Web chatting on ooVoo (hahahaha)

Your mom is on your side
Don’t look so stunned
I told you so you should have known
Life is not Twilight
I blame Stephanie Meyer
I told you so you should have known

Tonight----
You are dumb
So you set Facebook on fire
It burned brighter
Than your quotational love

Tonight----
You are dumb
So you set Facebook on fire
It burned brighter
Than your quotational love

So when this happens again
And you want to fall in love
Don’t put it on Facebook
Next time

TRIVIA QUIDDITCH! BRILLIANT!

unomesowell — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 19:21:26 GMT

Lesson Plan: Trivia Quidditch
A game of both Skill and Luck!
Objective: To have fun studying for a big test regardless of test topic
All ages, grade levels and subject matter!

       In my head you will need to set up the rules for the game the day before playing so you have an entire class period to play. If the subject matter is very challenging I might give them a study guide a few days before and draw the questions directly from this material. That is up to the teacher in charge. Regardless, this technique takes the children’s born and raised love for all things Harry Potter and helps them study for a big test. (In my head I have them playing this to study for Angela’s Ashes… Weird, right? No! I figure the subject matter was so heavy and sad they need some fun way to study to help them recall info without getting teary eyed.)

Supplies needed:
• Study material questions (no less than 20)
• I very challenging question with many answers (ex. Name each character in the story, list all the vocabulary words, recite the theorems on this test)
• Sorting Hat (or bucket or bag but something to hold slips of paper)
• Enough slips of paper for each member of the class
• 1 box of disposable straws
• 1 box of Qtips
• 1 tripod
• 1 needlepoint hoop any size (smaller = harder)
• 1 tennis ball with wings drawn upon it in magic marker
• Study Guide for the students (optional)
• Video Clip of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in which Oliver Wood introduces the game of Quidditch (optional)
• Class decorations ie. Streamers, house crests (optional)
• Teacher Costuming ie. ref shirt and whistle, HP robes (optional)

Classroom Set Up/Prep:
1. Before the day of the game prepare a list of questions regarding the subject matter.
     a. No less than 20.
     b. Make them challenging and do not limit yourself. You could use everything from true false answers to short essay answers. The point is that they have to study a bit to play to win.
     c. If you have provided a study guide draw from there but make sure you collect them before the students begin playing!

2. The day before the game explain the rules. This is the basics with all of the fun theme sucked out of it:
     a. Each student will be on a team.
    b. All of the teams will be provided with the same question and they will write their answer on a piece of paper.
     c. The teacher will walk around and look at the answers and mark them correct or incorrect.
    d. From the front select one team to read out the correct answer.
    e. Each team with a correct answer will send one representative to the front of the class. (You may want to say each team member gets a turn; that is a choice teacher needs to make.)
    f. Each team representative will sit in a provided chair and make one attempt to get a Qtip through a hoop.
    g. Each team that makes it through the hoop will receive ten points.
    h. When the last question has been asked the points will be tallied. The two teams with the highest points will enter the final round. The final round will be announced at that time.

3. Before class, on the day of the game, you must do some prep work in your classroom.
    a. Place a “Sorting Hat” by the front door. Inside the hat are enough slips of paper for each of your students to be “sorted” into their “houses”. Ex. 24 students = 24 pieces of paper = 6 Slytherin, 6 Gryffindor, 6 Hufflepuff, 6 Ravenclaw. As each student enters the class they will reach into the hat and select a slip of paper.
    b. Write Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw on the board in columns. After the students are sorted they must write their name in the column so we know who is on which team. I like this extra bit of organization and camaraderie. Competition = Motivation in this game!
    c. Separate the desks in the room into four pods with enough room for each team. Try to leave space enough that they won’t be overheard discussing their answers. Indicate in some way which “House” belongs to each team. I like streamers in house colors, perhaps a House Crest. I would probably have laminated house crests to use at another time anyway!
    d. One each desk provide one straw for each team member, and 20 Qtips. I think it would be a nice touch to color the tips of the Qtips to match the house colors.
    e. In the empty space, either in the center of the room or in the very front just as long as everyone has a clear view, place four stand-alone chairs.
    f. A few feet away from the chair, you will have to test this yourself to figure out the proper distance, place a tripod with a needlepoint frame attached to it. This should look like four chairs facing a hollow lollipop, or in our case Quidditch Hoop.
    g. Last but not least, you teacher, need to get in the spirit of the game. Do you have HP robes? A referees shirt? At least a big whistle? Find some way to be the best Madam Hooch you can be because this is gonna be fun!
    h. Optional: I would like you to have the clip from Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone queued up to the point where Oliver Wood is introducing Harry Potter to the game of Quidditch. This is not essential as the kids are probably more familiar with it this than you are but what a great lead in to the game!

4. Stand by the door and allow each student to draw from the hat. They will sort themselves on the board and into pods. As referee you will explain the rules, call out the questions and judge the answers. This is no different than any other study game. HOWEVER, this has a Quidditch theme and it is up to you to bring the fun.

Let The Games Begin:
Stage 1: Beaters – Each station/pod/team is really The House Quidditch Team battling for the Quidditch Cup. At this stage they are all Beaters. It is their job to hit the Bludgers, the hard ball questions, to protect their team. If they get the questions right the Beater has hit the bludger away from the Chasers.

Stage 2: Chasers – If the team gets a question correct they may select one teammate to play House Chaser. There can be up to 4 Chasers competing at this point, if all four teams got the answer correct. The Chasers job is to get the Quaffle through the Hoop. The Chasers must bring one straw and one Qtip, or Quaffle, with them and sit upon the chairs facing the Hoop. Placing the Quaffle inside the straw, each Chaser will get one chance to blow the Quaffle through the straw and into the Hoop. If they are successful it is a GOAL! And ten points to the House! (In this version there are no physical Keepers, but if someone misses it could be said that a Keeper blocked the ball.) They return to their Houses and the questions/bludgers continue.

Stage 3: When all of the questions have been asked and answered it is time to tally the points. The two Houses with the highest points, regardless of the distance between, are in the final round of the Quidditch Cup. All Beaters and Chasers from your House are now upgraded to Seekers. Remove the four chairs and Hoop from the center of the room. Have all members of both Houses stand in a circle facing each other. Announce that you are about to release the Golden Snitch worth 120 point! There will be one question asked. If the ball is thrown to you, you must answer the question within three seconds or admit you have fallen from your broom and leave the game.

      • As referee the question should be simple enough to understand but challenging to answer in its entirety. For example, as an English Teacher, if I was reviewing for Angela’s Ashe’s I may say “Name all the characters in the story.” Or “list all the events in chronological order.” I would need to have a very thorough checklist in my hand but one that I could check through quickly enough because they will be tossing the Snitch hard and fast. If it was a Biology test, I may say name all the phylum. Math recite the theorems. History, name all 50 states. A checklist of answers in my hand helps me keep up with the speed of the game and a simple one word answer is best so the kids can answer and toss as quickly as possible so as to catch someone else off guard.

End Game: When there is only one team left standing, one player or the whole team, the game is over and the team is said to have caught the Golden Snitch! Here’s the grabber though. The Snitch is worth 120 points. If Gryffindor had 50 points and Slytherin had 170 points before the Snitch was caught, Slytherin would be in the lead. If Slytherin catches the Snitch they have won by a landslide. If Gryffindor catches the Snitch they have tied the game. But if Gryffindor has 60 points and Slytherin has 170 points, but Gryffindor catches the Snitch, Gryffindor has won by 10 points!

The Prize: Maybe you are the kind of teacher who likes a prize for a job well done… a real “house cup” can be purchased at the Dollar Store. Kids always appreciate candy. In my class, though. I tell them the real prize is the same as in any game or sport worth playing: “The intrinsic value of knowing you are better than everyone else.” Huzzah!

Lesson plan, Ethics class? Assumption vs. Inference

unomesowell — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 13:56:18 GMT

Let's make an ASS out of U and ME!
The difference between assumptions and inferences...

This should happen on a very early day in the first semester. You dont want them to have time to get to know each other to well or discuss their personal beliefs to any extent if at all possible.

Make a list of several extremely controversial questions. Choose one that is traditionally neutral and if all possible a localized issue, like the colleges mascot, or something similar. Preferably an issue that is unrelated to gender, religion or political officiation but that has only two options - you do not want to chose something like abortion because while they may be against abortion they have exceptions for rape and incest. Those are great topics for later but right now you want a simple for or against answer.

Have the entire class stand up.
Ask the question, give one statement for each side of the debate, and give them a moment to silently come to their come to their own opinion.
Instruct them to choose a side of the room to stand on - I am for this wall! I am against this wall!

This next step depends on how long you want this to last. I imagine doing this with the entire class however it would be fine to take one volunteer from each side of the room. No matter what know this will require plenty of time for assumption.

Everyone else can sit down and one person will stand before the class. Tell the class only the persons name and what side of the debate they chose.

Now ask a series of questions to which no one will respond. With the information before you - name, one controversial decision, appearance and all it tells us - where do you think this person will land on each issue?

This could be done on a check sheet... A handout with a list of questions that you would label for each person asked and then a check list of for or against. You could have them circle the ones they got correct so we could revisit later when more people have gone.

This could be done visually. Each person could have two colored pieces of construction paper. After the question is asked you could have the students raise one color for this side of the issue and this color for the opposing side. Then the teacher could do a head count for how many assumed for and against.

Of course you could always do a hand raising, how many assume for? Count and write number on the board. How many assume against? Write number on the board.

Most importantly you want a visual representation of who the class assumed this person was going to be.

--If you want a quick game you do one for each side of the class and discuss where you were right where you and what made you come to that assumption.

Then look at the sides of issues you now really know the side of and ask yourself... If I had known then what I know now could I have inferred this information? How many more would I have gotten right?

-- if a full class can be committed to this try to do as many classmates as possible. After you have run through several make a change to the game. No have each person state their name, which side of the issue they fell on AND one statement either why they fall on the side they do OR one piece of personal information. See if knowing one fact about the person increases the information you can infer and helps you make more correct assumptions, because you really can't know everything about one person just by knowing one fact but the more you know they closer you get to knowledge.

If this is an Ethics class then all questions should be set aside for further discussion later. Also keep an eye on the class. Americans are very territorial about where they sit. Once they have a chair they rarely move without real provocations. However, knowing more about each persons belief systems could be enough for some students to suddenly find new seating or clump together with more like minded students. It would be a keen observation to bring up at the end of the semester.

I might even suggest a daily class picture is in order just to prove your point!

VI-VI WON DISTRICT ORATORY CONTEST

unomesowell — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 15:30:26 GMT

Baby Girl had to write a speech no shorter than 4 min and no longer than 5 min (they took off points for every second in the wrong direction!) and it had to be about a set topic, How I use Optimism to Overcome Obstacles. Now we knew she could talk about losing her Grandfather or how she skipped two math levels when she moved here but we also knew every other contestant was going to be rolling out their sob stories and it would be the contestant who needed the most tissues to get through their speech who won. (We were not far off. We heard everything from dead gineau pigs to lost grandfathers and everything in between. We also heard every dictionaries definiton of what optimism is, the water glass trick and the lemonade stands. One boy bashed all three and he was our biggest competitor with a line like "If life brought me a glass of water I wouldn't say "hmm is this half full or half empty?" I would say "Hey, I ordered a Dr. Pepper! I want to see the manager!") But in the end she focused all of her attention on one judge who seemed to have a quick smile and made her absolutely ROLL she was laughing so hard. Whose more optimistic, the tissue honking sad sack or the side clutching short stack? Short Stack FTW!

How My Optimism Helps Me Overcome Obstacles

Aka It’s a Small World After All

I have always been looked down on. Teachers do it, my parents do it, friends, and it’s even getting to be that my sister and brother are starting to have to look down on me. This is because I am shorter than almost everyone I know. At a whopping 4’-11” and a quarter I am someone who has to look up, whether I want to or not, at almost everyone (pause) because it would be really awkward if I were looking straight into their belly button! (pause for LOL)

The top 10 reasons why being short will always be awesome and not a lifelong obstacle!

You get to have wonderful friends who think it is hilarious to block all traffic so that they can announce that you need to get to class or your locker. (pause) Like your own personal Crossing Guards! (pause for LOL)
Being short, it is easier for me to dodge the random flying objects commonly seen in the middle school hallways. (Hand gestures!) You know arms… pencils… wads of paper… Even sometimes a binder or two. (whoosh motion) (pause for lol)

But I won’t always be in school. The real world has its own hard to reach places.

In the grocery store I often have to hop or ask strangers for help reaching things on the top shelf. Sometimes they’ll see me reaching for something and without saying a word will reach up and just hand it to me. This allows me to quote movies and books. For instance, from the movie A Street Car Named Desire, (best impression!) “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers”. (pause for LOL)
I get along very well with random children in malls and stores. I love to make faces at them when their parent’s backs are turned. And, since I am not as tall as an adult, they have no problem assuming I am friend and laughing with me. (pause) And the parents are just left wondering… (make “who me?” face) (pause for LOL)
I get to make amazing ninja jumps. (pause for LOL) In my house I have to climb on the counter tops to reach something in the higher cabinets. I of course only jump after I have carefully set down whatever I was looking for. (pause) I have never had any trouble reaching the bottom cabinets though. (pause for LOL)
I can stealthily sneak under other people’s umbrellas when it is raining without them noticing. I just scooch in from behind them and stand there, no longer getting wet. They usually don’t notice ... (pause for LOL)
I will always able to dress to in style as well. Everybody knows that Hello Kitty and Cookie Monster t-shirts will never go out of style. Since I will never get any taller I will be able to wear these for a while. (pause for LOL)
I am small and so are my feet! (pause for LOL) So I get to buy children’s shoes for the rest of my life. I will always get away with Dora the Explorer flip flops at the pool.
I can be a really loud and excitable person. I often get away with squealing and jumping when I am super excited and that is because I am short so people let me. (pause) Like a puppy. (pause) Or a 6^th grader! (pause for 6^th grade indignation and LOL)
I don’t often have problems with hitting my head on low hanging objects. When I first moved into my house there was this chandelier that everyone had to be wary of except me. I never noticed because I always just passed right under it. (pause) Although rearview mirrors were a problem for a little while. (pause) Also, doorknobs. (pause for LOL) My mom said that my sister, two years younger than I am, was able to reach the doorknob before I was. Now I can proudly stand before you and announce that reaching doorknobs is no longer a problem! (pause for spontaneous cheering and LOL!)

There are so many advantages to being my height that I can’t even mention them all in a four minute speech. (pause) Like how it’s a short fall from where I am now to the ground. (pause for LOL) Or how I can wear really tall shoes all the time and people just think it’s my normal height. (pause for LOL) I think that the height I am is perfect for me. I love it. It’s not an obstacle. I am 4’ 11” and ¼ and proud of it!

Lol

unomesowell — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 01:42:03 GMT

Did you see gorgeous naked David Beckham in the Superbowl ad?

Why, yes, that was my name tattooed on his back...

He and I are like *this*...

Perhaps that is why I kept my maiden name... Hmmm...

Speech at Dad's Funeral

unomesowell — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 16:32:34 GMT

Tuesday January 17, 2012

Funeral of my father, Frank R...

My name is Jessica Alice R... and I am Frank’s oldest daughter. The way you see your parents as a children is far different from how you meet them as adults. I spent the last nine months getting to know my father as a person and introducing myself as well. It has been one of the most difficult things I have ever done, and also one of the most worthwhile.

I always knew my Dad loved food. Many a police officer has described Dad’s reviews of local restaurants near the mall, or complained about the weight they put on during the holiday rush when he would order food for an army. I learned he was also passionate about cooking. He assigned me a task to master the perfect hollandaise sauce, even if I should discover that I don’t even like hollandaise sauce. Epic was the oregano vs. fennel debate when we made meatballs together. He won. Fennel IS the perfect spice for baked meatballs. Towards the end when he was no longer eating he still watched endless cooking shows always asking me with a challenge in his voice, “Have you ever eaten that? Would you try it if you could?”

I always knew my Dad was a flirt but I didn’t know he took it for granted. He had quite a following of nurses and volunteers at the Cancer Center. They are amazing people doing amazing work so it always surprised me how they would go out of their way to say hi, set aside a little treat for him, talk about the most recent football game or presidential candidate. What I learned is that he was a football player in high school. Back then he had a following of cheerleaders would often borrow his car to go get food while he was at practice. I was thinking wow weren’t you a stud! He was remembering how they never gave him gas money.

I always knew he was an amazing grandfather, or as he is known around my house, Robocop. I didn’t realize how seriously he took the job. Many a treatment day was spent with me recounting the latest fashion exploits and scholastic accomplishments of my daughters, Vi-Vi and Sydney Li. Always with him asking “why?” Why do they like that band, that singer? Why did she choose that instrument? Why does she work so hard at her art when other pursuits come so easily? You may not know but my Dad watched every single episode of Hannah Montana and Wizards of Waverly Place just so he would have something in common with his girls. And yet he didn’t tell us when Miley Cyrus came to the Galleria! “Crowd control,” he said. I contend he would have told us if Selena Gomez had showed up. He always said she was “such a nice girl.”

I always knew he thought he knew everything. I learned that on the rare occasion he didn’t he would throw himself into learning everything there was to know on the subject. When I told my Dad we had finally gotten confirmation that my son Thomas had asbergers and we would start getting help from the school, he was more scared for his grandson’s future than for his own. But when he had read all there was to be read on the subject he came to ME to teach ME what it meant. He assured me Thomas was going to be ok and that he could tell he would grow into a good man. Of course, I knew that already but it sure was nice to hear.

I knew my Dad had high expectations and if you didn’t meet them, you were “broken”. I learned he also had high hopes. My dream is to be a high school English teacher. I graduated in December but I put my job search on hold when he was diagnosed in April. He told me I didn’t need to search. I belonged at Clayton and that was the only place I should apply. I protested saying how competitive the market is right now and how I should accept whatever I was offered and work my way up to Clayton someday. He was adamant. “You deserve Clayton,” he said. “Let me see what I can do.” Dad, you are a police officer. Obviously a highly admired and respected police officer, but as good as you are I don’t think your reach extends that far.” He said, “My brother Gary isn’t the only one who knows a guy.”

I always knew he was suspicious and it was hard to earn his trust. When I introduced Vang, 16 years ago, I didn’t know Dad had already run a background check on him and all his known associates. Apparently, this is standard procedure for all prospective son in laws. But once you are one of his, Dad will defend you to the end. He took Vang, Peter and Brian into the family and told them just like his birth children, they too are broken.

I always knew he was brave. He has been a police officer since before I was born. I never could understand what kind of bad guy would have the guts to stand up to a man who looked this intimidating in uniform. But I learned he was fearless. From the day the doctor said cancer we knew we were on the clock. At no time was remission or recovery on the table. But as far as my Dad was concerned, he was as likely to quit fighting, as he was to retire from the force. (He was never going to retire. That just wasn’t gonna happen.) He tried multiple forms of chemo, each time requesting the most aggressive treatments available. When the cancer continued to spread, he took radiation and when that wasn’t enough, he signed up for experimental treatment. He did not stop to rest until there was not one more step to take, and even then, he only stood still for a moment to check the list and make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

Fought hard? Check.

Set a good example for my girls? Check.

Advice for raising the grandkids? Check.

Left the mall in good hands? Check.

Made the ultimate Bacon Explosion? Check.

As a future English teacher, I feel obligated to include a classic poem before I step down. This one occurred to me often while we sat in the Cancer Center, eating Lorna Doones and spotting Humming Birds…

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

As fitting as that is to me, I would like to end this with a pledge I wrote for my Dad, and fighters like him facing that long journey through cancer. As committed as he is to God and Country, I hope he will like it.

My Pledge to Fight

(I place my hand not over my heart but over the spot where Dad had a Powerport, where the medicine that equally made him sick and delivered him from illness, was located.)

I pledge allegiance to my Port through which I get my Chemo,

and to the decision which I have made,

to fight,

very hard,

every day

until the cancer is defeated.

Thank you.

Oh, the irony of meat

unomesowell — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 04:07:19 GMT

I am at my Dad's tonight, helping prepare his dish for tomorrows Annual Cook Off. Usually there is a theme - seafood, chili, italian - but this year its an attempt to get my Dad to eat something so it is a mixed bag. Everyone wants to be the one who inspired Dad to eat something regardless of winnning the contest.

So Dad decides he will make Bacon Explosion. If you don't know what that is then you obviously have never heard of YouTube. How sad for you! But Dad isn't feeling well so he laid on the couch and coached me through the making...

Three pounds of thick cut bacon, raw, woven into a mat.
Spread with 3lbs of sweet italian sausage, also raw.
Layer that with 3lbs of ground sirloin, raw.
Season with Lowery's seasoning salt.
Roll into a big ass tube of meat.
Display proudly!

It was at this point my story became a Livejournal post. I wrapped it in aluminum foil so we could cook it tomorrow morning when it occurred to me this was a familiar shape and size... and I don't mean the phallic ness of a giant meat tube, get your mind out of the gutter. No I mean the length and weight was very familiar to me. I quick meaured it and then I did this....

Me: *Craddling the large meat in my arms and humming softly*
Sister: What are you doing?
Me: !0lbs 2 oz, 21 inches long? Its baby Thomas!
Me and Sister: *laugh asses off while Dad looks upon us as if we have lost our minds*

FYI Dad does something a bit unusual but if you have seen a bacon explosion made you have seen a grease fire so this is a cool trick. He lines the pan with dry cornbread stuffing! It collects all the grease and oil and crisps into this amazingly bad for you crouton sort of stuff. Yum!

I will bake that tomorrow at 375 until a meat thermometer says the beef is cooked, roughly one hour. We are going to serve ours slightly untraditionally, if an internet sensation can be called traditional... We are going to serve it in slices over thick noodles with a sweet basil tomato sauce.

But the funny part was my dinner/ son wrapped in aluminum foil and smelling of bacon.
Happy New Year Everyone!

Halloween Lesson Plan age 12-Adult

unomesowell — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 01:48:24 GMT

This lesson plan started out as a sight gag for a Bachelorette party, thus proving that inspiration can come from anywhere!

Now introducing Mister and Missus … Creating Halloween Costumes with Literacy!

Halloween Activity, English Class, Grades 6-Adult

Supplies needed:
wide flat ribbon cut into 2 yards (1 per student, light colors work best)
Dark permanent markers (washable works but it smears easily)
The finished product will look like the sashes worn by Miss America Contestants!

Objective:
You may try to ignore the holiday and continue with your preset lesson plans but the students minds are elsewhere. Why not take their natural enthusiasm and use it to your advantage! This activity is fun, cheap and creative. It encourages outside the box thinking while putting literacy skills into a real life opportunity.

Plan:
Precut the ribbon and have the markers ready to go so all you have to do is explain the assignment and let them go. Explain how some words naturally lend themselves to puns that sound like names so today we are going to make Halloween costumes for ourselves. Instruct them to brainstorm a list of words that start with the sound miss or mister that could be made into a title. Example: Miss Terious (mysterious) Woman, Mr. E. (mystery)Man. Tell them this is a contest to be the most creative so not to share their answers with anyone. When they have a list, choose the very best answer. Write the correct spelling for the word and the new creative spelling they are willing to use on a sash and bring it up for approval. Check their choice for school appropriateness, understanding and to make sure no one has used it already. (It’s more fun if there are no doubles.) There is bound to be a student or two who cannot come up with a name that has not already been taken. After sufficient time has passed or they have made a concerted effort and just keep rolling doubles, let the class throw out some of their second choices until you get to one that has not been taken yet. The spirit of competition is always great but not to the point where someone gets left out. Have each student walk the catwalk in their completed sash announcing their name selection and take a picture of them posing at the end. You can put this together into a slide show for future airing. I also like to compile one master slide show of the first time a name is used from year to year. It is amazing how creative students can be! Sashes are to be worn from class and if they want to can be worn right into the holiday evening.

Alterations:
I like to make them be creative, individually and in a class period. However, there are ways to make this easier for younger classes. The name could be a homework assignment. They could work in pairs or groups, (Mr and Mrs. pairs are especially fun because their sashes match.) You could brainstorm as a class on the board and have each child come up and claim a name they want to use. You could make a list of names on the board and have them come up with the correct spelling or explain why it is funny. In the end it is fun and creative and the finished product is something to be proud of! FYI, boys names can be more tricky so you may need to broaden the playing field…

Possible answers:
Girls:
Miss Zoo (Mizzou)
Miss Terry (Mystery)
Miss Appropriation
Miss Take
Miss Managed Affairs
Miss Bea Having
Miss Leading
Miss Pronounced
Miss Sogynist (mysoginist)
Miss You So Much
Miss Treated
Miss Understanding
Miss Taken Identity
Miss Placed My Keys
Miss Nomer (misnomer)
Miss T. Fyed (mystified)
Miss Che Vious (mischevious)
Miss Anthrope (misanthrope)
Miss Dee Meanor
Miss Ion Impossible
Miss ed My Chance

Boys:
Mr. E Guest
Mr. E. Shopper
Master Piece Theater
Master Mind
Master Piece
Master Card
Master of Mystery
Sir K’Da Solay (Cirque du Soleil)
Sir Cuss (circus)
Sir Cull K (Circle K)
Sir Cut City (circuit city)
Sir Cumstances Beyond My Control
Sir Tanly (certanly)
Sir Cumstancial evidence
Sir Cumfrence

unomesowell — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 12:01:11 GMT

I dreamed I had my picture taken with Daniel Radcliff, at his request, while he interviewed me with a hair brush covered in his tube sock. I dream in high def.

I dreamed Erica Lee Romeo was getting married again (don't worry, it was still Brian) but I missed the photo session (I was being chased by a demonic Oreo magnet) so I didn't get to see Rupert Grint. Erica was consoling me/ bragging about all the pictures she had taken when Daniel Radcliff walked over. He felt bad for me and said/bragged he had had his picture taken with Rupert thousands of time. Unconsoled as I was he asked Erica if she had any film left and she said enough for two pictures. (why I couldn't dream digital was invented the world may never know.) So Erica set up the camera while Daniel tried out different poses and finally decided an action shot was required. He grabbed a round curling hair brush, ripped off his own soccer length white tube sock and shoved the brush inside. Pleased with the effect he sat down, crossed his legs and leaned over his knee towards me as if we were having an intense interview and the photos were shot.

I woke up this morning making a mental note to put the pics on facebook.

Writing Prompt 1

unomesowell — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 21:34:34 GMT

Ok well no one participated which is not a shocker but here is my story anyway. Maybe you will read it anyway?

Reminder:

Writing Prompt: I will give you The Scenario, you provide The Story. Format, depth and length are all up to you. Please include a title so we can refer to your work easily. Leave your work in comments if it fits or leave your name in comments so we know whose wall to come read. I’ll give you 48 hours, then I will post my own story as well.

The Scenario:
Early on a Saturday morning a woman, early thirties, rumpled, disheveled, and barefoot, walks down the sidewalk of a nicer subdivision. Her pace is steady and determined. Who is she? Who are you? What is she thinking? What do you think about her? How did she get here and where is she going?

“The neighbors must think you have lost your mind.”

“What else could they think?” she exclaimed. “We’ve only lived here a few months and I am already the homeless woman who walks around town half dressed mumbling to herself.” They both broke down laughing at that. It was good to laugh about it. Telling the story to Sandy made it seem less like an ordeal and more like a hilarious failing to add to the list of Moments When I Wasn’t The Best Mother.

Jessie took the break in the conversation to grab a couple more Diet Cokes and put out a plate of chocolate chip cookies. When they had both helped themselves to a tasty morsel, Jessie began to feel like she could relax for the first time that day.

“Start from the beginning”, Sandy said. “WHY were you wandering the streets at 6am looking like a homeless person?”

“Well, you know how Vi-Vi has been training for a 5k?”
Jessie was so proud of her little girl. Little girl? She just turned 14! Always beautiful, always smart, Vi-Vi had had success in every aspect of her life but one. She wasn’t what you would call athletic. She had played on teams, t-ball, basketball, swimming, but it didn’t come easy to her like school did. She had to push harder, and then learn to be happy with less than first place ribbons. Jessie knew Vi-Vi wanted to be the best at everything and was so excited to see her struggle and strive. How she admired her beautiful girl growing into womanhood. It was the rest of the world Jessie didn’t trust.

Sandy, nodded her head.

“Well, Vang got promised he would join her this morning at 5am for a jog before work. Of course, 6am finds Vang still in bed. “
Sandy gave a look that said she was familiar with Vang and this is less than surprising to her. They both laughed again.

“Vi-Vi comes into our room and says she has waited long enough and she’s going now with or without him.” Jessie couldn’t help doing a slight impression of Vi-Vi being stern with her father, hands on hips, tone just ever so slightly belligerent.

“Of course, Vang feigns sleep and Vi-Vi stomps down the stairs and out the door. I poke him and tell him to get his butt up and go walk with her.”

“Better him than me!” laughs Sandy, “6am is for the birds!” and Jessie nods in agreement. Jessie knew her out of shape genes were responsible for Vi-Vi’s lack of athleticism, of this there was no doubt, but that morning she had wished feverently that she had been the one t o throw on jeans and join her daughter. That sucked the laughter right out of her as she began again in a more somber tone.

Jessie had watched him throw on pants and heard the front door open and close. She knew he would have to hustle to catch up because Vi-Vi would probably let whatever anger she could muster fuel her speed. Good, she thought. Let Vang apologize for once. She’d hit the radio and turned it down low, drifting quickly back to sleep. What felt like only minutes later, the front door opened again and Vang flew up the stairs. His sudden entrance startled Jessie awake but his words went straight to her heart.

“I walked the entire subdivision. I can’t find her.”

Vi-Vi had gone online and figured out that walking from her front door to the end of the large, affluent subdivision and back was just over a mile and a half. Walking this twice was over three miles, or just at five kilometers. She had begged and bargained to be allowed to walk this route daily. They were new here and their old neighborhood had not been the kind where you went for a casual walk without a buddy. Thing were different here. It seemed like there were people walking up these tree lined streets with dogs and water bottles, iPod and stop watches all day every day. Jessie couldn’t resist her earnest pleas but they had made a deal. ‘I’ll let you go,’ Jessie had told her daughter ‘as long as you promise to tell me when you are leaving and check in with me before you make the turn into the second lap.’ Vi-Vi knew she was not to leave the subdivision. She wouldn’t break this rule.

“Are you sure you walked the whole way?” Jessie asked Vang, as he threw on some socks and nicer shoes. He grabbed his keys and without another word went back downstairs. She followed him rattling off questions. “You went to the left, right? Going to the right is a dead end. She walks the long way.” Jessie threw on the jeans and t-shirt from yesterday and followed him outside. He opened the car door to get in but turned popped his head back out to say, “Did you want to come?”

Jessie thought about it for a second. They had been going through a rough patch. She thought he was controlling and didn’t stop to think about other people’s feelings or opinions. “Bringing home a paycheck doesn’t mean you own us!” she had yelled more than once. He thought she wasn’t trying hard enough, was sad she hadn’t found a job since graduating in December, and was taking out her frustrations on him. “I work hard six days a week. I want to enjoy myself” was his refrain. If she went, they might have a little time together but they might spend it sniping at each other. If she stayed here and waited for Vi-Vi they wouldn’t have to pick up where they left off, but he might take it as a rebuff.

Still, Vi-Vi couldn’t be far. He probably wouldn’t make it a block before
he spotted her. Jessie could imagine how embarrassed she would act, having Daddy follow her in the car, pacing her, asking through the window how far she walked, if she was tired yet, why she was walking so slow.

“I’ll sit out here and wait for Vi-Vi.” She sat on the tiny patch of concrete that served as a porch, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t choose this moment to take out the dogs. She hadn’t showered or brushed her teeth yet and she just realized her shirt had a small hole in it. What a great addition I am to the neighborhood, she thought to herself.

Twenty minutes passed. Twenty minutes to brush ants off her bare feet. Twenty minutes to pick the nail polish off her already chipped fingernails and hastily run her fingers through her un-brushed hair. She jumped up from the concrete and meandered down the driveway. I’m not scared, she thought. I will just be able to see her coming better if I walk past Don’s house. Passing Don’s house she thought well, I could see to the end of the block if I just walked past the small hill. At the corner she thought, I am not a crazy person. It’s not like I am going for a barefoot walk or something. I’ll just mosey in the right direction and catch a ride home with Vang when we cross paths.

She kept this internal monologue going to prevent her from thinking the real thoughts that had suddenly crept into her head. Earlier this week a teenager had been grabbed behind the high school. A middle-aged white man in white shorts had tried to drag her into a bathroom but she had fought him off and run for help. The schools official statement to the parents had been that this was “not connected with any official afterschool activities”. Was that supposed to be comforting? You covering your ass while I am realizing that moving hadn’t removed the worries? Jessie worried constantly that her children would be taken from her. Sickness, divorce, kidnapping, home invasion, Jessie worried about it all. She secretly believed that the prettiest children were taken first and her children were stunning so they were at more risk. Jessie could remember being approached on more than one occasion as a child, walking alone down empty roads, by single men offering rides. And I was no looker, Jessie thought. If they would even take me, they would pay good money for one of my babies. They had moved, officially, for the better schools. Off the books, Jessie wanted the kids to grow up in a place where they could knock on a door and ask the kids to come out and play. Jessie wanted them to ride bikes, and play Four Square in the street. She wanted them to grow up gently and leave all the worry to the grownups. Well, here she was worrying again.

“Overreacting,” she whispered under her breath. “OVER reacting.” Of course she was overreacting. Calm rational thought does not have her walking halfway through the neighborhood in rumpled clothing and bare feet when her husband is probably right over this hill. In a car, no less! They probably passed a garage sale and stopped for a look. Jessie passed several minutes imagining walking up to the garage sale looking like this, embarrassed by her appearance, abashed by her momentary panic over nothing. Imagined Vi-Vi laughing and saying no way they just got here, they are still looking and making her mom sweat it out a few minutes longer. Imagined Vang Siding with Vi-Vi and maybe even locking the car doors so she couldn’t hide from the neighbors overly curious eyes. Or would Vang be aggravated? Would he bustle them out, unhappy with her appearance and obvious fear when he had the situation under control? It was so hard to tell with him these days. He used to be so laid back, so quick to laugh. Such a good Daddy. Now he was short tempered and looking for the escape route. They used to go to garage sales together every Wednesday and Saturday morning. Now he leaves for work early and stops at garage sales along the way by himself. Jessie knew it was money issues. They had never fought over money before they moved into this better house, this neighborhood they couldn’t afford, didn’t fit into.
Had I seen a sign for garage sales? Jessie started to wonder. She really shouldn’t have made it this far without seeing them. Should I have stopped one of the neighbors and asked if they had seen my family? Oh, that would have looked good. They way I look? The way I am acting? They would politely walk away and call the police! Wonder what they will think when I don’t come back this way! This subdivision is a dead end!

“They’ll probably think ‘Oh good. Someone else called the men in white jackets!’” Oh god! I just said that out loud and I think that neighbor was looking at me funny! She ducked her head and strived to maintain a steady but determined pace. Rounding the bend, however, Jessie was brought up short. Just ahead was the end of the road. The last cul-de-sac in the subdivision. How could I have missed them? They wouldn’t have driven right past me without noticing me! I am quite a sight by now! The sun had risen higher in the morning sky and Jessie’s formerly unwashed un-brushed hair was now also mildly damp with sweat and starting to clump a bit. Quickening her pace Jessie approached the island, thinking there must be a matching bench on the other side and they are just sitting talking, resting. More of a walk than they had bargained for. But as she circled the manicured island, she noted that there were no cars parked along the rim. Vang had taken his car. He wouldn’t just park in some random driveway, would he? Jessie thought about resting herself, just for a minute, but dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. Jessie knew she could count on one hand how many cars had passed her and none of them had been Vangs.

“Wait,” Sandy interrupts. You walked the whole mile and a half, BARE FOOT? You feet must be cut to ribbons!”

“Blisters, mostly. It’s not like I was leaving big bloody foot prints,” she says with a forced laugh, while surreptitiously tucking her sore feet under her and away from view. She continued in the same false, light tone.

“I just need to see Vi-Vi! Overreacting! Again! Always making everything such a big deal! Probably drove past me on purpose! Who would want to admit they were with the crazy person talking to herself on the side of the road!” Jessie exclaimed exaggeratedly.

“I really was too! I was talking to myself the whole way home!” she told Sandy with a laugh. Technically, it wasn’t funny to Jessie. Yet. Someday I will tell this story and we will all be laughing, she thinks. Injecting humor into the story now, getting Sandy to laugh at her own stupidity, helped lighten the weight she still felt.

Jessie took a bracing sip of her soda and, dropping her voice to add drama to the story, continued. “So, I round the last block towards home and the hill is blocking my view. I pick up this mantra “Oh there’s the car! Oh! There’s the car!” She says it to Sandy in a bippy sing songy voice like it was a funny rehearsal of delight. At the time, it was a silent prayer to the Gods that her baby was safe at home with her family and her husband had been with her the whole time. Let me be worried for nothing. Let her be fine. Oh! There’s the car. Obviously, I always worry for nothing.
“I came up the small hill and past Don’s house so I could see the driveway.“ Without realizing it, she had dropped the lighthearted tone and a hint of the real pain had leached into her words.

“I saw the driveway and saw Vang’s car wasn’t there. Then I realized I had left without meaning to. I had only meant to walk a minute up the road and who knows how long I’ve been gone now? I had not meant to leave so I had not locked the door behind me. “

“Oh God,” Sandy said in a whisper.

“I just started running. I flung myself at the door and was pushing it with my shoulder trying to get it to open for at least a few seconds before I realized it is locked.”

“Oh good! You just forgot!”

Slowly Jessie shakes her head and says, “I didn’t forget I locked it. I really didn’t lock it.”

Taking a deep breath Jessie plunges quickly through the end of the story.

“I know I didn’t lock that door. I didn’t even have the keys on me. Instead of being reassured, I am now in full blown panic mode! So, I run over to the garage and punch in the numbers, duck under the still rising door and race across the garage. I throw myself in house screaming for Vi-Vi, Sydney Li, Thomas, anybody! I run down stairs and all the rooms are empty. Vi-Vi’s bed is rumpled and there is no one in the closet. I race back up the stairs and around through the library and the karaoke room still calling, close to tears and out of breath. “

“You had to be dying!”

Ignoring that comment because it was too close to the truth Jessie says, “Then finally. Finally! I hear a voice from upstairs call down “Up here!” I race half way up the stairs before I see Vi-Vi and burst into tears.” Jessie starts laughing and realizes she is actually crying now, too. She’s in pajamas again. In fact, Thomas had been sitting at the computer at the top of the stairs the whole time. He had been so into his game he didn’t hear me calling! Vi-Vi starts in on some story about a garage sale and I am crying and sweating and a snotty mess and she doesn’t seem to notice until I have my arms around her and I am crying. Just crying.”

Jessie stops to grab a paper towel and laughs as if she is silly for crying now but it had been so scary and that fear doesn’t seemed to have really faded yet.

Sandy reached out and put her hand on one of Jessie’s, sympathetic, understanding.

“What did Vi-Vi say? Where had she been?”

“Well, she realized I was upset and she says ‘Where were you? We were worried!’ I heard the TV going and I say ‘What, worried on the commercial breaks of Good Luck Charlie?’”

Jessie shook her head and chuckled a little.

“I’m so mean. It’s not her fault I was scared to death! So, I ask her what happened and she says they came home and I wasn’t there so Daddy went to work and she showered and changed her clothes. I had to make her go back and tell the whole story ‘cause that just didn’t make any sense, right?”

“Right! What the fuck? He went to work? How did they miss you? Where were they?!?” Sandy seems so indignant on Jessie’s behalf that Jessie just had to calm down and let out a real laugh.

“First of all Vang had not walked the whole subdivision before he went for the car. He only went as far as the bus stop. Then, it turns out Vi-Vi had been within spitting distance of our house when Vang drove up so he put her in the car and took her to a garage sale. They bought cups in the shape of ice cream cones. Then he dropped her off at the house.” She shrugged, much in the way he had explained it on the phone later that morning. Like it was no big deal, no reason to worry. Is it his fault that she had overreacted?
Shouldn’t he have known how worried she was? Would it have been so hard to just back up a few houses and let me know “Hey, I got Vi-Vi we are going to a garage sale”? He knew I was sitting on the porch. He knew I wasn’t home when he came back from the garage sale! Why didn’t he come looking for me then?

Jessie was pulled from her thoughts at that moment, when Vi-Vi came into the kitchen.

“Mama, can I have a Capri Sun?”

“Sure, Baby. Help yourself.”

“Hey, Girl. I heard you had quite an adventure this morning!” Sandy said.

Vi-Vi looked puzzled for a moment.

“This morning? What happened this morning?”

Sandy and Jessie locked eyes and burst into cathartic laughter. Vi-Vi left the room with that look on her face that says Oh no. The grownups have lost their minds again. Jessie thought to herself, maybe she was never lost. Maybe I am the one who was lost.

As you can see, I am not much of a writer but I love storytelling and wish to improve my skills and stretch those muscles whenever possible. Believe it or not, this was how I spent my Sunday morning. I was the homeless woman walking down the street barefoot muttering to myself trying to contain the growing panic. If you had seen me, what would you be thinking? My friend Sandy Olive has not actually heard me tell this story but this is how I imagine that would go. I originally started telling the story to my twinny poo but I realized there is a lot going on in my head when I tell stories and some of the carefully phrased words and implied connotations change when you are speaking to a friend versus a family member. Hopefully neither of them mind their inclusion or exclusion from the tale. Surprisingly, it really did help to tell my imaginary friend my story and maybe I will think it was funny someday. Comments are love!