Wow, it's Wednesday night and definitely bed time. I've forgotten the amount of energy it takes to work with little ones on a daily basis. My library is looking better, but still not complete yet. I have a couple of book orders that haven't arrived yet and there are a few other things that still have to be finished in the library, but what a place it is. I can't say it enough. The windows are phenomenal. There is something almost magical about them, the outside is inside. The grass on my side of the building is still germinating, but I look forward to my rows of trees and green, fragrant grass.
On another note, I was swept up in the enthusiasm of the Democratic Convention tonight. Two great speeches were given, one by President Bill Clinton, the other by VP nominee, Joe Biden, who was born in my hometown.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
First Day of School
"Tomorrow is another day," as Scarlet O'Hara once told us. It's also another start of school for me. There have been lots of first days of school in my life, first as a student, then as a teacher, then as a mom with two children, then as a librarian and tomorrow will be the first day of kindergarten for my grandson, Dylan. I am excited that he and I will be going to school together every day.
I am thrilled to be starting another year as a librarian, my 13th, in a brand new building. We still have books coming in, and computers that are not 100% operational, but things are moving along smoothly and I look forward to having kids in the library before too long.
I am thrilled to be starting another year as a librarian, my 13th, in a brand new building. We still have books coming in, and computers that are not 100% operational, but things are moving along smoothly and I look forward to having kids in the library before too long.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
New and beautiful
I returned to work officially on August 13. It wasn't exactly what I expected as contractors were still working on electric for the computers in the library, so there was not much I could do in there. I did get help moving some shelves so the layout is looking the way I want it too. The room is breathtaking. The library is not particularly large, but feels expansive because of the high ceilings and wonderful windows. For the first three days, the room was cluttered with my boxes and the tools and materials of several electrical contractors. I am happy to say that they finally finished up on Friday afternoon. The floors will be cleaned and waxed this weekend so it will be ready for the children in just a week.
Eric came up on Friday and moved a lot of my boxes and helped me empty them. I have very little storage space so I'll have to be judicious about what I keep and what I don't keep. I will definitely need a place to store my seasonal decorations.
The next week will be busy as I hustle to get books and materials in their place. I can't wait to see the kids and their reaction to this beautiful new building.
My books arrived on Friday and the boxes were placed inside the library so the floors in the hallway would be clear. Can't wait to open them and start shelving the new books.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Russia vs Georgia
I am curious as to how our president can remain in China at games which should have been held elsewhere, while Russia seeks to annihilate a former nation of the soviet block because of their interest in relationships with western nations. No question that the timing on Russia's part was impeccable. The start of the Olympics have captured the eyes of the world, with many world leaders in attendance.
The last six months of W's presidency--which so far have been less than stellar--pretty much like the other 7 and a half years and an American economy at the brink of recession brought on by an elongated and unecessary war in Iraq have our nation distracted. Can we not see that we must do something here. Georgia is a nation that seeks to be democratic and aligned with other democratic nations, but it seems unlikely that we will do much as a nation to help the situation. We were quick to jump into Iraq, a country that seems to have little desire to be a democratic nation, prodded by false allegations and inexcusable mistakes by the people who are supposed to be good at gathering intelligence.
It is time for change in Washington. I only hope it doesn't come too late.
The last six months of W's presidency--which so far have been less than stellar--pretty much like the other 7 and a half years and an American economy at the brink of recession brought on by an elongated and unecessary war in Iraq have our nation distracted. Can we not see that we must do something here. Georgia is a nation that seeks to be democratic and aligned with other democratic nations, but it seems unlikely that we will do much as a nation to help the situation. We were quick to jump into Iraq, a country that seems to have little desire to be a democratic nation, prodded by false allegations and inexcusable mistakes by the people who are supposed to be good at gathering intelligence.
It is time for change in Washington. I only hope it doesn't come too late.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Early Rising
It's about 7 AM on a Sunday morning. I've been up for about an hour. Nothing really too new for me, I've always been an early riser. I do admit to learning to sleep in a little on weekends as I grow older, but since surgery 6-7 hours is about all I can spend in the bed. I am not a back sleeper, and it's still a little hard for me to sleep on my side.
I've always been convinced that early morning is the best time of the day. Around here it is quiet. My step-son, Ian is an early riser too, but his goal is always to find out who is awake and who will fill him with cereal. Ian is about to turn 24, but with the mental age of about a three year old. His needs are basic and he really lives by his biological clock. When it gets dark, he sleeps and when the sun rises, he is up too. Give him a bowl of cheerios or rice chex and he is content.
Sunday morning is always my time to catch up on the news, explore the Internet, looking for genealogical connections or interesting blogs that discuss my two favorite things, genealogy or library service for kids. It is also a great time for writing. This is why I love blogs. This past year, I used them with fourth and fifth grade students--and they loved them. Given the opportunity to write "publicly" kids shine. They eat up the comments from other students and often interact with each other's writing. It's a great way to extend Writer's Notebook. One of last year's students actually writes a serial novel in her blog! Now there's an idea, Gayle, if you never get published you could just put your novel right here on the pages of your blog.
One of the interesting things I learned this morning on the Internet is that we DON'T really swallow spiders in our sleep. I can't tell you how relieved I am to learn that fact. Spiders scare me! I am happy to know that I scare them too and wandering near nostrils or a mouth where carbon dioxide is escaping is not one of their favorite things to do! Yeah!! Maybe that will help me sleep later tomorrow.
I've always been convinced that early morning is the best time of the day. Around here it is quiet. My step-son, Ian is an early riser too, but his goal is always to find out who is awake and who will fill him with cereal. Ian is about to turn 24, but with the mental age of about a three year old. His needs are basic and he really lives by his biological clock. When it gets dark, he sleeps and when the sun rises, he is up too. Give him a bowl of cheerios or rice chex and he is content.
Sunday morning is always my time to catch up on the news, explore the Internet, looking for genealogical connections or interesting blogs that discuss my two favorite things, genealogy or library service for kids. It is also a great time for writing. This is why I love blogs. This past year, I used them with fourth and fifth grade students--and they loved them. Given the opportunity to write "publicly" kids shine. They eat up the comments from other students and often interact with each other's writing. It's a great way to extend Writer's Notebook. One of last year's students actually writes a serial novel in her blog! Now there's an idea, Gayle, if you never get published you could just put your novel right here on the pages of your blog.
One of the interesting things I learned this morning on the Internet is that we DON'T really swallow spiders in our sleep. I can't tell you how relieved I am to learn that fact. Spiders scare me! I am happy to know that I scare them too and wandering near nostrils or a mouth where carbon dioxide is escaping is not one of their favorite things to do! Yeah!! Maybe that will help me sleep later tomorrow.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Shopping at NorthPark
I hadn't really been out of the house in two weeks, unless you count the visit to Plano Presby to get the staples out. I was tired of being housebound, so we sent Ian to grandma's house and went to the mall. I love Northpark. I mean, who wouldn't love a mall with Neiman's, Nordstrom, Macy's, Dillards, Coldwater Creek--and of course Build a Bear. I think my husband, Eric, likes that store even more than Dylan and I do. When I was in the hospital Eric went there and had a black lab made, put it in nurse's scrubs and christened her Lizzie, one of my nicknames. I usually end up taking my build-a-bear babies to school for my library. I have a bear named Mo, who during hockey season sports a Stars uniform. He appeared on Tiger News Network this past year, when the Stars were in the playoffs. The students just loved him.
Back to Northpark! I splurged on makeup at Nordstrom. Afterall, I go back to school in a week--gotta look good. Of course, I also visited Bath and Body works and stopped by Coldwater Creek. Saw a great shirt there, that I have to have, but I am stilling thinking about color. The white one is nice, but I love the blue one--which one shall it be? If you are familiar with Northpark you know that Coldwater Creek is right next door to the Apple store--Eric's favorite place at the mall. We didn't go in today, though. The lines are still long for the Apple phone--my goodness--what's the big deal? It's a phone, people. Eric said they are making 800,000 a week and still can't keep up with the demand. We didn't even try to go in--some of those line waiters looked hostile.
Next weekend I am going to the mall with Leigh and Dylan in tow. It's tax free weekend and Dylan starts kindergarten at La Villita on August 25. Since it is a uniform school Dylan needs to stock up on red, blue, white and green polos and khaki pants.
Back to Northpark! I splurged on makeup at Nordstrom. Afterall, I go back to school in a week--gotta look good. Of course, I also visited Bath and Body works and stopped by Coldwater Creek. Saw a great shirt there, that I have to have, but I am stilling thinking about color. The white one is nice, but I love the blue one--which one shall it be? If you are familiar with Northpark you know that Coldwater Creek is right next door to the Apple store--Eric's favorite place at the mall. We didn't go in today, though. The lines are still long for the Apple phone--my goodness--what's the big deal? It's a phone, people. Eric said they are making 800,000 a week and still can't keep up with the demand. We didn't even try to go in--some of those line waiters looked hostile.
Next weekend I am going to the mall with Leigh and Dylan in tow. It's tax free weekend and Dylan starts kindergarten at La Villita on August 25. Since it is a uniform school Dylan needs to stock up on red, blue, white and green polos and khaki pants.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Confessions of a Mad Writer
Writing is comforting like a soft pillow with just the right concaves, like an old stuffed animal that you carried through childhood, like a Hallmark card from a dear friend. Writing is thought provoking like a sound bite from the evening news, like a campaign slogan, like a comment from a colleague. Writing is obsessive, like too many potato chips, like my need to have my bed look just right when I make it, like my constant search for another ancestor to help me define more clearly who I am.
Writing is a disease.
Recently I’ve been writing morning, noon and night. While this is probably due to my participation in the National Writing Project Summer Institute, I am tentatively hoping the frequent writing continues long after the institute. I say tentatively because I am beginning to experience some of the symptoms of mad writer’s disease. Let me share those symptoms with you, in case you think you may be suffering from the same malady.
First, you think about writing all the time. This symptom manifests itself in many ways. You are driving down the highway with a definite destination in mind. Suddenly you get an idea for a story in your head and before you know it you are ten miles past your exit and hoping you can think of a great excuse for being late. A second manifestation of this symptom is ignoring your spouse. You can hear a faint din similar to the low hum of a neighbor’s lawn mower; nothing that’s particularly bothersome but certainly nothing you have to pay close attention to either. That is until you pre-writing thoughts are shattered by your husband firing your name in rapid succession like gunfire at the shooting range. “Gayle, Gayle, Gayle—are you listening to me?”
Let’s not forget the failure to separate the darks from the whites because you are pondering how to apply the rule of three to your writing. The first time your husband has to wear pink briefs you are sure to be reminded of you illness. I’ve already gotten out of my bed in the middle of the night, and out of the shower, soapy and dripping, to write something down. I spent a large part of a recent interview formulating, in my head, a persuasive piece based on a single phrase uttered by the interviewer.
The second symptom is the shameless use of your friends and family as the subjects for pieces of writing. My son has already informed me that if I put his slut story in print he’ll find a way to get even. I don’t know why it bothers him so much. I am sure every seven year old boy has confused those rolly, polly little bugs for sluts. I hope the mere mention of it here doesn’t drive him to revenge. My grandson has been the subject of many of my past stories—but thank goodness, he’s too young to protest. For her fortieth birthday last October I presented my good friend, Amy, with what I thought was the perfect gift—a tribute piece to our friendship. Thankfully, she agreed, cried all over her present, and then gave me a huge hug. Today, it was thoughts of a Konni story—she’s a librarian friend who just accepted a new position. Formulating the writing in my head took me right past my exit.
Carrying your writing notebook everywhere is the third symptom. You whip it out like a tourist brandishes his camera—snapping shots at moments, unexpected and sacred, catching everyone off guard. The checker at the grocery store asked me the other day why I was taking notes. Perhaps she was insecure in her job. More than a few people turned heads when I whipped out my phone and snapped photos of the turtles in the concrete pond at North Park mall. The photos were immediately followed by the appearance of my notebook so I could free write about turtles.
Lots of lovely little turtles, turtles in water, turtles out of water, turtles in a pile, turtles under the sun lamp—sun lamp?—note to self, research why turtles need sunlamps—are they bronzing their shells? There sure are a lot of turtles in that very small pond. Maybe I should write an anonymous letter to the SPCA.
All this free writing is reminding me of a college friend who always had a smile on her face, a kind word for everyone, and a song in her heart. Unfortunately the song that most frequently came to her lips was Climb Every Mountain from the Sound of Music. She’d sing it in the student union. She’d sing it on the way to class. She’d sing it at frat parties. It didn’t take long before all the members of my boyfriend’s fraternity referred to her as Climb Every. Will “free writer” replace “Shorty” as my nickname—not freedom writer, grant writer or published writer—just free writer?
That brings me to my last symptom—revision aversion. You’ve done some pre-writing activities, come up with a great topic, taken out your notebook and free wrote until your wrist was numb. You took the best lines and put them into a piece you think is great—but is it? You revised, used brush strokes, applied the rule of three, and sprinkled it with lively action verbs. Just when you think you have a final copy, your kindly response group has suggested you might want to move a few things around, add some words, take some away, and the whole process begins again.
I have the disease—and I don’t want to get well.
Writing is a disease.
Recently I’ve been writing morning, noon and night. While this is probably due to my participation in the National Writing Project Summer Institute, I am tentatively hoping the frequent writing continues long after the institute. I say tentatively because I am beginning to experience some of the symptoms of mad writer’s disease. Let me share those symptoms with you, in case you think you may be suffering from the same malady.
First, you think about writing all the time. This symptom manifests itself in many ways. You are driving down the highway with a definite destination in mind. Suddenly you get an idea for a story in your head and before you know it you are ten miles past your exit and hoping you can think of a great excuse for being late. A second manifestation of this symptom is ignoring your spouse. You can hear a faint din similar to the low hum of a neighbor’s lawn mower; nothing that’s particularly bothersome but certainly nothing you have to pay close attention to either. That is until you pre-writing thoughts are shattered by your husband firing your name in rapid succession like gunfire at the shooting range. “Gayle, Gayle, Gayle—are you listening to me?”
Let’s not forget the failure to separate the darks from the whites because you are pondering how to apply the rule of three to your writing. The first time your husband has to wear pink briefs you are sure to be reminded of you illness. I’ve already gotten out of my bed in the middle of the night, and out of the shower, soapy and dripping, to write something down. I spent a large part of a recent interview formulating, in my head, a persuasive piece based on a single phrase uttered by the interviewer.
The second symptom is the shameless use of your friends and family as the subjects for pieces of writing. My son has already informed me that if I put his slut story in print he’ll find a way to get even. I don’t know why it bothers him so much. I am sure every seven year old boy has confused those rolly, polly little bugs for sluts. I hope the mere mention of it here doesn’t drive him to revenge. My grandson has been the subject of many of my past stories—but thank goodness, he’s too young to protest. For her fortieth birthday last October I presented my good friend, Amy, with what I thought was the perfect gift—a tribute piece to our friendship. Thankfully, she agreed, cried all over her present, and then gave me a huge hug. Today, it was thoughts of a Konni story—she’s a librarian friend who just accepted a new position. Formulating the writing in my head took me right past my exit.
Carrying your writing notebook everywhere is the third symptom. You whip it out like a tourist brandishes his camera—snapping shots at moments, unexpected and sacred, catching everyone off guard. The checker at the grocery store asked me the other day why I was taking notes. Perhaps she was insecure in her job. More than a few people turned heads when I whipped out my phone and snapped photos of the turtles in the concrete pond at North Park mall. The photos were immediately followed by the appearance of my notebook so I could free write about turtles.
Lots of lovely little turtles, turtles in water, turtles out of water, turtles in a pile, turtles under the sun lamp—sun lamp?—note to self, research why turtles need sunlamps—are they bronzing their shells? There sure are a lot of turtles in that very small pond. Maybe I should write an anonymous letter to the SPCA.
All this free writing is reminding me of a college friend who always had a smile on her face, a kind word for everyone, and a song in her heart. Unfortunately the song that most frequently came to her lips was Climb Every Mountain from the Sound of Music. She’d sing it in the student union. She’d sing it on the way to class. She’d sing it at frat parties. It didn’t take long before all the members of my boyfriend’s fraternity referred to her as Climb Every. Will “free writer” replace “Shorty” as my nickname—not freedom writer, grant writer or published writer—just free writer?
That brings me to my last symptom—revision aversion. You’ve done some pre-writing activities, come up with a great topic, taken out your notebook and free wrote until your wrist was numb. You took the best lines and put them into a piece you think is great—but is it? You revised, used brush strokes, applied the rule of three, and sprinkled it with lively action verbs. Just when you think you have a final copy, your kindly response group has suggested you might want to move a few things around, add some words, take some away, and the whole process begins again.
I have the disease—and I don’t want to get well.
It's a New Day
Yesterday all physical remnants of my recent surgery were removed. Wow! What a relief! I am still very tender, but physically, I haven't felt better in years. It will be a real joy to return to school in a week, minus that hernia and feeling at least ten years younger. For those of you who haven't heard, I am changing schools again. After four fantastic years at Freeman, I am off to open another new school library at La Villita Elementary. I can not wait! The building is positively beautiful and the library is a central focal point with it's raised natural wood ceilings and window walls.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Open Hernia Surgery
I had an incisional hernia repair last Monday. After two days in the hospital I was released on Wednesday afternoon and returned home with staples and a wound drain. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and hopefully both will come out. All in all, the experience was not too bad. I don't remember one thing from the OR. Those pre-op drugs are good!!
I had an IV and catheter in until midday on Tuesday when both came out. I haven't been taking anything but a strong NAISAID for pain and am taking a strong antibiotic to prevent infection. I don't like being sick or restricted but am trying really hard to stick close to a comfy chair and my bed. I am wearing a band which the doctor recommends using for at least 4-6 weeks. I won't argue. It is nice to be waited on!!
I had an IV and catheter in until midday on Tuesday when both came out. I haven't been taking anything but a strong NAISAID for pain and am taking a strong antibiotic to prevent infection. I don't like being sick or restricted but am trying really hard to stick close to a comfy chair and my bed. I am wearing a band which the doctor recommends using for at least 4-6 weeks. I won't argue. It is nice to be waited on!!
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