Oh enlightened ones....hugs and kisses all around for the finest of birthdays. No candles okay.
(Stay tuned...A story about my beloved granny will come soon.)
Monday, February 12, 2007
dirty santa rakes in blog readers
I just have to let everyone know this because it's dang funny.
Maybe you've read my dirty, Dirty, DIRTY Santa blog about my family's Christmas game. Maybe you haven't, but this story is still great, so read on and go ahead and giggle when you feel it coming.
On my bravenet counter, I can see how people access my blog (you can too if you click on it at the bottom of the page.)
Let's say you forgot my address and went to Google and typed in Journey2Learn. It would show up on Bravenet as you accessed my blog through Google Search. Of course I can't see who it is...just what you search for.
So...the biggest hits on my blog from various search engines come from the keywords dirty santa. No lie.
YES!! People actually search for "dirty santa" and, fortunately, my blog is the second hit that comes up...seems there aren't too many "dirty santa" stories out there. What a massive let down for those searchers to read about gift exchanges and hot cocoa over the naughty details about Santa's day off or how Santa Does Seattle.
Seriously though, WHO SEARCHES FOR DIRTY SANTA????!!!!!! Maybe I need to have more "provocative" titles to get more tits...i mean hits. :)
End of story...hope you found it just as amusing as I did. I would tag my sister to comment...and Melanie...and I bet my dad would like to as well...but it seems the blogging world freaks them out when it comes to leaving anonymous comments. :)
Final thought....please, please snow tonight...enough for a snow day.
Maybe you've read my dirty, Dirty, DIRTY Santa blog about my family's Christmas game. Maybe you haven't, but this story is still great, so read on and go ahead and giggle when you feel it coming.
On my bravenet counter, I can see how people access my blog (you can too if you click on it at the bottom of the page.)
Let's say you forgot my address and went to Google and typed in Journey2Learn. It would show up on Bravenet as you accessed my blog through Google Search. Of course I can't see who it is...just what you search for.
So...the biggest hits on my blog from various search engines come from the keywords dirty santa. No lie.
YES!! People actually search for "dirty santa" and, fortunately, my blog is the second hit that comes up...seems there aren't too many "dirty santa" stories out there. What a massive let down for those searchers to read about gift exchanges and hot cocoa over the naughty details about Santa's day off or how Santa Does Seattle.
Seriously though, WHO SEARCHES FOR DIRTY SANTA????!!!!!! Maybe I need to have more "provocative" titles to get more tits...i mean hits. :)
End of story...hope you found it just as amusing as I did. I would tag my sister to comment...and Melanie...and I bet my dad would like to as well...but it seems the blogging world freaks them out when it comes to leaving anonymous comments. :)
Final thought....please, please snow tonight...enough for a snow day.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
get married at the court house...end of story!
Oh the joys of planning a wedding. The last 24 hours my sister and I have been up making 55 CD's on three different computers using seven (a, b, c, d, e, f, and g) playlists from itunes. And when things would go smoothly for a couple of hours, invariably a computer would freeze, a kitty would walk across the keyboard, or the cd-rom would go nuts. What a mess! For the love of life...why are computers so complicated?! And all this for wedding guests at the upcoming nuptials in Vegas. Hardly worth it! (But I have uploaded some great songs through the project.)
Sister's done all the research. She had songs in mind and spent the better part of last night placing them in just the right order. From Dean Martin to Eartha Kitt, from Frank Sinatra to Ella Fitzgerald, from Louis Armstrong to Rosie Thomas, from Hank Williams to the delightful little Norah Jones, we put 28 of some of the greatest 'i-love-my-honey" songs ever recorded. (Insert moment to vomit.) Johnny Walks the Line and then sings along with June to Jackson and 'Cause I Love You (which, for a love song, is one of the best ever in my book....seriously, what man would bring me honey from the beech tree in the meadow? Great lyrics, Johnny!) Tammy Wynette belts out Stand by Your Man (never would I put this on my own CD), and Nancy Wilson reminds us that You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To (and I don't think she was talking about her house pets.) Hank fiddles out Baby, We're Really in Love...wow! Hank Williams with a real love song! And, of course, Ms. Etta James closes the CD with At Last...and I'm sure Caron and Kory's life will definitely "be like a song." But I'm thinking it might be more like Loretta Lynn's Fist City.... :)
So...after hours behind the computer (I did manage to sneak off for a workout at the Y), and listening to phone conversations with the new mother-in-law, I'm 100% sure I will never plan a wedding again. (And hopefully not because I won't ever find that perfect companion, but because we will find ourselves in Vegas, or at the beach, or in Europe and just say, What the heck, let's get married....and in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout, we'll head to Jackson. Undoubtedly, this will make my family nuts, but it will keep my own insanity in check.
Disclosure: I'm all for my future mate planning, organizing, and paying for his dream wedding...I"ll just invite friends and show up for the nuptials if that's the way he wants it. :)
Sister's done all the research. She had songs in mind and spent the better part of last night placing them in just the right order. From Dean Martin to Eartha Kitt, from Frank Sinatra to Ella Fitzgerald, from Louis Armstrong to Rosie Thomas, from Hank Williams to the delightful little Norah Jones, we put 28 of some of the greatest 'i-love-my-honey" songs ever recorded. (Insert moment to vomit.) Johnny Walks the Line and then sings along with June to Jackson and 'Cause I Love You (which, for a love song, is one of the best ever in my book....seriously, what man would bring me honey from the beech tree in the meadow? Great lyrics, Johnny!) Tammy Wynette belts out Stand by Your Man (never would I put this on my own CD), and Nancy Wilson reminds us that You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To (and I don't think she was talking about her house pets.) Hank fiddles out Baby, We're Really in Love...wow! Hank Williams with a real love song! And, of course, Ms. Etta James closes the CD with At Last...and I'm sure Caron and Kory's life will definitely "be like a song." But I'm thinking it might be more like Loretta Lynn's Fist City.... :)
So...after hours behind the computer (I did manage to sneak off for a workout at the Y), and listening to phone conversations with the new mother-in-law, I'm 100% sure I will never plan a wedding again. (And hopefully not because I won't ever find that perfect companion, but because we will find ourselves in Vegas, or at the beach, or in Europe and just say, What the heck, let's get married....and in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout, we'll head to Jackson. Undoubtedly, this will make my family nuts, but it will keep my own insanity in check.
Disclosure: I'm all for my future mate planning, organizing, and paying for his dream wedding...I"ll just invite friends and show up for the nuptials if that's the way he wants it. :)
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
5 jag dollars and a gingerbread house
I had to be gone from work today. But don't think I didn't work. A teacher is never off the clock, although my sister did try to convince me of that today while we were enjoying a relaxing afternoon at Mojo Pie (where Kristen is the creme-de-la-creme of hair stylists.)
So away from work, all I could think about was work. What are the kids doing now? Are they working? Did I leave enough for the sub? Who's getting out of class and wandering the halls? Are they telling lies? Telling secrets? Are they putting frogs in my desks and snakes in my cabinets? My mind goes in a thousand directions.
There's one class I'm particularly worried about...and that's my film literacy class. Simply put, they are a bunch of goofballs. They love movies, politics, religion, music, and food. More importantly, they love talking about movies, politics, religion, music, and food. The last class period I was there they talked about Viva Tortilla, a new Mexican place, (..."with sonic-like qualities" Joe adds), waking up early, snow days, Hillary Clinton, tattoos, and fortunately, the film Rocky (which we just happened to be viewing for a theme study on the value of taking a chance.)
And then an odd thing happens. Throughout all of this conversation, Billy pulls a box from his duffel bag. With its child-like bubble letters and brightly colored exterior, I thought it was the game Candyland, like i used to play at the babysitters house. But no, it was a gingerbread house cake kit, complete with gum drops, peppermints, candy buttons, gingerbread cake walls, floor, and roof, and a rather large 'bag o' frosting.'
Colin, eyeing the gum drops, opens the bag and offers them around the room. Soon, the entire class has their own slice of the something from the gingerbread house kit, and finally, curiosity getting the best of me, I ask Billy, "Where did you get this?"
"I bought it," he responds matter-of-factly, "for five JAG dollars."
The class erupts.
JAG (Jobs for America's Graduates) is a national non-profit program within our school to offer alternative education. Our JAG instructor does all sorts of neat things with her students, and offering them opportunities throughout the semester to earn "JAG dollars" and spend them in the JAG store is one of them.
I had no idea one could buy a Gingerbread House Kit in the JAG store. In fact, I'm not sure I even know where to buy a Gingerbread House Kit in any store. But Billy, saving his JAG money, decided this would be the best investment for him on Tuesday, and I think my Film Literacy class certainly agreed.
Who knows what they brought today. I just hope the sub could handle it.
So away from work, all I could think about was work. What are the kids doing now? Are they working? Did I leave enough for the sub? Who's getting out of class and wandering the halls? Are they telling lies? Telling secrets? Are they putting frogs in my desks and snakes in my cabinets? My mind goes in a thousand directions.
There's one class I'm particularly worried about...and that's my film literacy class. Simply put, they are a bunch of goofballs. They love movies, politics, religion, music, and food. More importantly, they love talking about movies, politics, religion, music, and food. The last class period I was there they talked about Viva Tortilla, a new Mexican place, (..."with sonic-like qualities" Joe adds), waking up early, snow days, Hillary Clinton, tattoos, and fortunately, the film Rocky (which we just happened to be viewing for a theme study on the value of taking a chance.)
And then an odd thing happens. Throughout all of this conversation, Billy pulls a box from his duffel bag. With its child-like bubble letters and brightly colored exterior, I thought it was the game Candyland, like i used to play at the babysitters house. But no, it was a gingerbread house cake kit, complete with gum drops, peppermints, candy buttons, gingerbread cake walls, floor, and roof, and a rather large 'bag o' frosting.'
Colin, eyeing the gum drops, opens the bag and offers them around the room. Soon, the entire class has their own slice of the something from the gingerbread house kit, and finally, curiosity getting the best of me, I ask Billy, "Where did you get this?"
"I bought it," he responds matter-of-factly, "for five JAG dollars."
The class erupts.
JAG (Jobs for America's Graduates) is a national non-profit program within our school to offer alternative education. Our JAG instructor does all sorts of neat things with her students, and offering them opportunities throughout the semester to earn "JAG dollars" and spend them in the JAG store is one of them.
I had no idea one could buy a Gingerbread House Kit in the JAG store. In fact, I'm not sure I even know where to buy a Gingerbread House Kit in any store. But Billy, saving his JAG money, decided this would be the best investment for him on Tuesday, and I think my Film Literacy class certainly agreed.
Who knows what they brought today. I just hope the sub could handle it.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
suds in a bucket...and my finger's in the ringer!
When the crowd jumped to its feet at the Shrine Mosque a few nights ago for the third song in her set, I knew it must be a good one. Sara Evans started talking about growing up in New Franklin and doing the chores most Missouri farm girls had to do, and the crowd immediately knew she was leading up to her Suds in the Bucket song.
At first, I thought the song was going to be more about remembering childhood chores and sharing them with your brothers and sisters. But who wants to reminiscense about hanging the laundry and bringing in wood for the fire? Instead, this song is about the growth of a young woman, who, when it's time, leaves her chores behind and heads out when the jet stream blows through town (aka...prince charming in a white pick-up truck.)
But of course, I am a reminiscenser (if there is such a word--and I'm sure there isn't)...and when the song started, I began to think about my own version of suds in a bucket when I was a child growing up in Missouri.
When my parents built their first home in Gainesville, it came with all the bells and whistles, including new appliances in a 1975 shade of green I'm not sure exists today. But while they were loving their up-to-date fancy washer and dryer, I snuck around the corner and down the road to the neighbor's house and learned what an outhouse was and how to make fresh fruit fried pies.
Bonnie and Delbert were always good to let me bother and annoy their everyday life. And when I was around, they never let me get in the way of whatever they were doing.
Bonnie used to play a trick on me. She had an old ringer washer out the back door of the tattered screen porch and inside the run-down smoke house used for a shed. When she first showed me how it worked, she jumped and screamed yelling "my finger's in the ringer!" and I glued my eyes to the rotating ringers waiting for a flattened finger to shoot through with Delbert's underwear. I visualized its flatness to the likes of Wile E. Coyote's mishaps with falling ACME bricks, and I was sure we could pop her finger back into its proper position.
Sadly, her finger never made it through (I'm not sure how grotesque that actually is that I wanted to see her finger come through), but I was mesmerized by this piece of equipment and jealous of its existence at her house. And no matter how much my mom and dad loved their modern Maytags bought brand new from Sears, I wanted that ringer washer. Once she showed me how it worked, Bonnie would often let me send the laundry through the ringers and dump it in the basket to be hung out to dry (which of course, was not my favorite part of laundry day at the Luna's.) But I was willing to help do anything as long as I could work the ringer washer.
Unfortunately, less than a decade later, the ringer washer became a back porch planter when Bonnie and Delbert upgraded, bringing in a pre-fabricated doublewide with all its bells and whistles...and adding brand new appliances to their newly modern home. And although Bonnie couldn't play the "my finger's in the ringer" joke anymore, she found plenty of other amusing ways to scare, shock, and terrify me.
At first, I thought the song was going to be more about remembering childhood chores and sharing them with your brothers and sisters. But who wants to reminiscense about hanging the laundry and bringing in wood for the fire? Instead, this song is about the growth of a young woman, who, when it's time, leaves her chores behind and heads out when the jet stream blows through town (aka...prince charming in a white pick-up truck.)
But of course, I am a reminiscenser (if there is such a word--and I'm sure there isn't)...and when the song started, I began to think about my own version of suds in a bucket when I was a child growing up in Missouri.
When my parents built their first home in Gainesville, it came with all the bells and whistles, including new appliances in a 1975 shade of green I'm not sure exists today. But while they were loving their up-to-date fancy washer and dryer, I snuck around the corner and down the road to the neighbor's house and learned what an outhouse was and how to make fresh fruit fried pies.
Bonnie and Delbert were always good to let me bother and annoy their everyday life. And when I was around, they never let me get in the way of whatever they were doing.
Bonnie used to play a trick on me. She had an old ringer washer out the back door of the tattered screen porch and inside the run-down smoke house used for a shed. When she first showed me how it worked, she jumped and screamed yelling "my finger's in the ringer!" and I glued my eyes to the rotating ringers waiting for a flattened finger to shoot through with Delbert's underwear. I visualized its flatness to the likes of Wile E. Coyote's mishaps with falling ACME bricks, and I was sure we could pop her finger back into its proper position.
Sadly, her finger never made it through (I'm not sure how grotesque that actually is that I wanted to see her finger come through), but I was mesmerized by this piece of equipment and jealous of its existence at her house. And no matter how much my mom and dad loved their modern Maytags bought brand new from Sears, I wanted that ringer washer. Once she showed me how it worked, Bonnie would often let me send the laundry through the ringers and dump it in the basket to be hung out to dry (which of course, was not my favorite part of laundry day at the Luna's.) But I was willing to help do anything as long as I could work the ringer washer.
Unfortunately, less than a decade later, the ringer washer became a back porch planter when Bonnie and Delbert upgraded, bringing in a pre-fabricated doublewide with all its bells and whistles...and adding brand new appliances to their newly modern home. And although Bonnie couldn't play the "my finger's in the ringer" joke anymore, she found plenty of other amusing ways to scare, shock, and terrify me.
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