Things I learned tonight at a high school volleyball game

Tonight I learned some stuff, and being the teacher that I am, I decided to share them with you all. You may already know these things or you may not care, but it’s my blog and I can do it if I want to. Tonight I went to Lake Region High School to watch a volleyball game. In the past few years, I have been to several high school volleyball games and watched young ladies from my church play. I’ve watched Sami Carver and Hannah Smith play. Tonight I went to see my friend Laura’s daughter Kali play. Laura and I have been friends for about 100 years, (Okay, maybe just like 20 or something) but we haven’t seen each other in person in YEARS. We used to work in AWANA together and as hard as this may be to believe, of the two of us, I was the warm, fuzzy one! Laura is probably the toughest person I know. She would kick butt on Survivor and she could seriously win if she were ever a contestant on Fear Factor. So, we rediscovered each other on Facebook. (I LOVE that!) Her daughter Kali is a freshman on the varsity volleyball team at Lakeland High School, and Laura helps coach the team. I wanted to go to the Auburndale/Lakeland game, but it was the night of Open House at my school. So tonight, I went to Lake Region to watch them play. In the process, I learned some things so here we go!
1. I didn’t think that my friend Laura could sit so calmly and watch a game, especially a game her daughter is playing in. She keeps statistics and sits right there in her chair and makes notes on paper. She never jumped up and yelled, never screamed at any officials and never appeared to even get very upset. I didn’t know she could do that! I have seen her almost rabid at AWANA Olympic practice! I was completely surprised.
2. Volleyball has changed a WHOLE lot since we played in PE. At every game I’ve been to, I’m just amazed. This ain’t my PE volleyball anymore. No three lines of three players, no more gently wafting the ball over the net. These girls are like machines. I was a little nervous.
3. I’m amazed at how much a kid can make you think so much about two other people. Looking at Kali, I couldn’t tell you specifically if she looks like her mom or her dad, but she made me think of both of them. I look a LOT like my dad – I have his round face, his chin and I’m built more like him. I have my mom’s squinty little eyes. I can’t tell you specifically how Kali looks like Laura or Jimbo, but I can see BOTH of them in her. She makes me think of both of them. One time, during the game, though, she did something and she was her mother made over. At that moment, she was 1000% Laura!
4. I don’t know who decided that volleyball players should wear bottoms that look like boy leg bathing suit bottoms . . . and I’m not sure it’s a good idea. There is probably some reason why those spandex bottoms help them move faster or something, but I don’t know any statistics. I’m shocked at how unflattering those things are, even on high school girls who are in fabulous shape. I also can’t imagine how irritating they must be, because between every part of the game, the poor things have to pull them out of their nether regions. Can’t be comfortable at all!!!
5. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have students from the home school watch the lines to determine when a ball is out or not. . . And that’s all I’m going to say about that. You can probably imagine why.
6. Almost last, but not least, my friend Laura’s daughter is a scary good volleyball player. It should be obvious to everyone that what I know about volleyball could fit in a thimble and there would be room left over, but I can even tell she’s REALLY good. I’ve gotta tell you, she hit some balls that were like bullets. If I were told I had to choose between being chased by a dog and letting Kali hit a volleyball at me, I’d take the dog. I was watching the game and I flinched sometimes, even though the ball was WAY away from and going the opposite direction
7. I’m so glad that God puts certain people in our lives. I’m so thankful that I’ve found my friend Laura again. I can’t even tell you why we’re friends; we don’t have much in common at all!! She is a tough, tough athlete – I’m a big wussy pants. She can handle anything that comes her way, with attitude, while I just want to curl up on the corner and cry! When we first met, she was married and I was single. She’s married now, and I’m still single. She’s a mom, I’m not. But somehow, in spite of all that, we ended up friends – and I’m so glad that we are.

The stupidest thing I’ve done (today!)

I hurt myself quite often. It’s never on purpose, but I hurt myself frequently. When I was about six, I decided to shave my legs. I grabbed a razor and dragged it up my leg, leaving a scar that I still have today. One year at my school’s Christmas play, I had this massive scab on the front of my shin. Imagine a pretty red dress for Christmas, nice little white lacy socks, with this ginormous red, bloody scab in between. I was trying to walk on some concrete pavers and fell off. My mother used to tell me “It’s just a clumsy stage; you’ll grow out of it.” The year I turned 27, she quit telling me that.
So yesterday, my nephew Josh had a job interview and, being the great aunt that I try to be, I was ironing his shirt for him. I picked up the can of spray starch by the lid. You can probably figure out what happened next. Gravity is still in effect, so the heavy can of spray starch fell out of the lid and landed right on top of my left foot, where my toes attach to rest of my foot. I hopped around moaning for a while and then ironed the shirt and went on to church. Things like this happen to me all the time, so it’s really no big deal.
This is where the stupidity comes in. Tonight I’m in the shower. ****** Caution – this next sentence may be TMI, so you may want to skip it. I have this pair of shoes that are really, really, comfortable, but they make my feet . . . how can I say this delicately . . . a tad odoriferous. Whenever I wear them, I can’t take them off until I’m ready to take a shower. ******************** Okay, you can read again now. I’m in the shower, scrubbing my feet. I notice this dirty spot on top of my foot and I’m scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. Then, I realize it hurts and the dirt is NOT going away. Then, it hits me! DUH!!! It’s a bruise! I’m trying to scrub off a bruise!! What kind of dummy am I??? I start laughing; water goes up my nose. . . Good times, good times!!!

My Bubba-cat

So, I have this cat named Bubba. Sometimes I call him Bubba-cat; sometimes I call him Bubbalicious and sometimes just Bub. I got him in May of 1996, when he was just about six weeks old. He was so tiny; he couldn't jump up onto my bed. I had to pick him up and put him on the bed. He has grown into quite the monster cat. He's very long, if he stands on his hind legs, he can read pas the doorknob on my front door. When he lays flat on top of me, he reaches from my shoulders, almost to my knees.

Bubba thinks he is an alarm clock. If I don't wake up, he wakes me up. Either he jumps on my stomach, or he climbs up on my chest of drawers and hits the blinds on the window so they crash into the window. He does it over and over until I either get up or swing a pillow at him. He also has a horrible habit. He chews on plastic. Plastic bags, trash bag handles, whatever. One day I picked up a plastic folder to take to school and it had little teeth marks all over the end of it. The really weird thing is, he chews on them with his back teeth, not his front teeth. It's very strange to watch him.

He also thinks he's a watch cat. When my Mom died, I had to run an errand, and my friend Laquita was coming to my house. My nephews were downstairs so I left my door unlocked, because Quita was almost here and we'd be back soon. When she tried to come in my house, Bubba started hissing at her and almost wouldn't let her in. During Spring Break this year, my sister came to get some of her stuff from my house. My dad and my nephew and I were cleaning out the garage. Everything was fine as long as I was here, even though I was downstairs and she was upstairs. But, the minute we got in my car to run to Lowe's, Bubba went after her. He hid under stuff and jumped out at her, he hissed at her, and finally, she put a laundry basket over him to get away. When we got home, I noticed a plastic spoon on the window outside my front door. She had to use the spoon to get out of the house.

Bubba can hear me open a can no matter where he is in the house. If I open any sort of can, he comes bounding into the kitchen, meowing for his dinner. It doesn't matter if I'm opening a can of soup or whatever, he thinks it's cat food. He loves cheese, especially the cheese they put on nachos at Taco Bell. He likes queso and loves the chicken from a Wendy's chicken sandwich.

My nephew and niece are both terrified of him. He attacks their feet, hides behind stuff, and jumps out at them. I think he's playing but they both think he's trying to hurt them. I would swear he laughs whenever they are scared of him. When I went to London, my dad and his wife "cat-sat" for me. Bubba took a road trip to his Grandpa's house. He did not enjoy the three-hour drive and whined pitifully from Auburndale to Wauchula. When he realized he wasn't getting out of the carrier, he just went to sleep. He spent his first several days at my dad's house hiding under the bed. Every time they tried to check on him, he would swipe at them. He doesn't have any front claws, so he can't really hurt you, but he still tries. Daddy finally got a flyswatter after him. Whenever he misbehaved, Daddy would swat him with the flyswatter. He finally got so comfortable, he would swat back at the flyswatter. He's definitely a strong willed child. Daddy kept asking me if he could give Bubba a bath. I told him he was welcome to, but I wouldn't advise it!!!

When I was in the 6^th grade, my teacher missed some days of school because she had to have her pet put to sleep. I can't remember whether it was a dog or a cat, (I'm thinking a dog, but I'm not sure.) I remember thinking that was the silliest thing I'd ever heard, missing work because her pet was sick. Now, I understand. Bubba is very much like my child. I worry when he's sick and I spank him when he misbehaves. I had no idea when I got him that this one little cat would become such a huge part of my life. Crazy as it sounds; I love my Bubba-cat.

 

My Daddy is the best daddy

 
 
 
 

My Daddy is the best Daddy

I have the best Daddy in the whole world. I know that everybody thinks that, but I really do. I've always thought that my Dad did a great thing, in that if you ask any of the three of us (my sisters and I) who is our Dad's favorite, we would all say "I am!" I really do think I'm his favorite though, because I'm his baby! I've been a bit of a disappointment to him lately, because of my job situation. My dad has an amazing faith, and he truly, truly believes that God works everything out in His own time and in His own way. I believe it too, but my faith has been a little shaky lately. This whole job thing has been rough on me and my head and my heart are often on two different wavelengths. I believe in my head that God will work everything out in His way and His own time, but every time I get one of those incredibly impersonal, computer generated emails from Human Resources that says "You were not selected for an interview" it hurts. I'm trying really hard to NOT take this personally, but it's hard, since it is ME that they can't even be bothered to interview. I know that none of these principals knows anything about me (and can't even apparently be bothered to take 20 seconds to respond to an email, but we'll save that for another post! J) but still. . . I haven't handled this rejection really well, and have been a little bitter.

So today, I go back to work, beginning my 17^th year teaching Geography. (No, I'm not using the Master's degree that I worked my rear end off for 2 ½ years. No, I'm not using the media specialist certification that's been added to my teaching certificate for over a year. – Thanks for asking! L) It was not a bad day, at all. We actually ended up with nearly an entire day to work in our rooms, which doesn't always happen. Josh came and moved furniture for me, I already have a bulletin board up, my desks arranged and stuff put away. But STILL, I'm not doing what I really want to do. I know I should just be grateful I have a job, I know, I know, I know. But today when I get home from school, I checked the mail, which I usually don't do. In my mailbox is an envelope from my daddy. It doesn't have his name on it, but I know his return address and I recognize his chicken scratch handwriting. The envelope got a little wet because it was raining but not too bad. I open it up and inside is a book, a new book. You need to understand that my dad NEVER buys new books. He is the junk/book store KING. He never pays full price for a book. He'll pay a dollar, maybe two for a hardback book, but that's it. I've spent many more hours in the "Rereader" the Goodwill's bookstore than I have Barnes and Nobles or Books a Million. So when I get a new book from my daddy, that's quite a thing.

The book is called "1,003 Great Things About Teachers." It's is just full of funny, funny things. I was reading while I was drinking and almost spit water across the room. There is a section called "Words that Teachers AREN'T embarrassed to say." My favorites are tentacle and Virginia. It is really funny. There was no card, no letter, nothing, jus the book in the envelope. But I know what he means. He could have sent a card, he's gotten very mushy about cards lately, but he knew that sending me a BOOK would be the best way. I really am lucky. Could anybody have a better dad??

Contentment . . . or lack thereof

I just used my online Bible search tool and found the word "content" 10 times in less than five seconds. Uh-oh. (BTW, I mean content as in satisfied, not what is inside something!) Most people who have ever been in church on any sort of regular basis have probably heard this verse from Philippians: "Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content:" That verse is causing me much stress lately, because I am NOT content. Dictionary.com defines content as "satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else." That's a toughie!! To not want any more or anything else. I dream about winning the lottery – does that mean I'm not content? I think sometimes my discontent doesn't come from wanting MORE, as it does from wanting something else. Then my faith and my feelings clash. I believe firmly and 100% that God loves us and wants the best for us. I believe that God knows and sees the whole picture, while I am only looking at a part. I believe that in His time, He works out things for the good for me. I KNOW all that. I just don't feel it always. So, because I'm stubborn and hardheaded, I try to help Him out. I give Him advice about what's best for me. And I become more and more discontent with my life. There will always be people with "MORE" than I have. I understand that. I get it. When you choose the educational system for a career, that's one of the "givens" the comes with the job. I can live with that. I do still dream of winning the lottery – Oh, the things I can think about what I could do with that money!!! I just want to be content with where I am right now. It's easy to start making a list of all the things I don't like and wish I could change. Top of the list – a new job! I did all I could to change that all summer – and every door just keeps closing. Next on the list – a different house – but I don't even know where to begin to change that!

A few months ago, someone told me I should learn the "Serenity Prayer." Yes, the same prayer that people in AA use. You've probably heard it, it goes like this:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I'm working on recognizing that I can't change other people (much to my dismay!) and that I can't change the decisions other people make. And, again, much to my dismay, there are MANY things I cannot change. I guess the only thing I can do is prayer for the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to wait.

 

    

If wishes were horses. . . .

So, I want a new house. I guess I should say, another house – it doesn't have to be "NEW." I want a "new to me" house. I have been thinking a lot about what I want in this new house. Realize, gentle reader, that the chances of me getting a new house are pretty slim at this point, because I would have to sell my house first and I can't imagine anybody wants to buy my house. When we bought our house, there were some things that I didn't think about or didn't know to look for, so I hope I've learned some things since then. Someone told me that now, while I'm not really looking for a house, I should make a list of the things I want in my next house while I'm not emotionally involved in looking for a new one. Here are some things I want in a "new to me" house.

1. NO STAIRS!! I have lived upstairs since 1996. While living upstairs has given me terrific calf muscles, I'm tired of taking everything that goes in to my house up and down the stairs. I wouldn't mind a house that had a bedroom upstairs, but I DO NOT want to have to take everything up and down the stairs.

2. Kitchen counter space. Our house is old and used to be a single dwelling that now has been split up into two, so I think that my kitchen probably used to be a bedroom. There is NO counter space in my kitchen, except a space big enough for my dish drainer. I WANT counter space.

3. Laundry space!! My washer is down stairs, in our detached garage. That means every time I do laundry, I have to go downstairs, to the creepy garage. That means no just "throwing in a load." It's always a production. I'm sick of it. I want to be able to put in laundry load while I'm still wearing my pajamas, and in the rain without getting drenched and worrying about falling down (or up!) the stairs.

There you have it. My most important list of what I WANT whenever I get a new house. When I look at the list, it really doesn't seem to wish for, does it??? Meantime, I just keep wishing. . .