Flasback

I want to share a story from my teaching archives: About 8 years ago I was teaching in a very old, very over-crowded school which was being remodeled one building at a time. When it came time for my classroom to be remodeled we were shuffled to a portable -- 1 teacher, 1 aid, 45 students, 3 hamsters, 1 trantula, 1 iguana and assorted other clutter -- including a gallon jar containing a goat brain in formaldehyde. One day a mother joined the mix. She knocked on my door as I was teaching math and asked to speak with me. I directed her to my desk and explained that I needed to finish the lesson first. She ignored my desk -- the towering paperstack was intimidating -- and perched on the edge of the pet table. I was attempting to explain the substitution of letters for numbers in an intro to algebra lesson and the kids were making the concept harder than it needed to be. They were looking for a distraction and they got one big time .... At the back of the room mom, perched on the table edge, had attracted the attention of Silk, the softest, sweetest most loveable hamster in the whole world. Silk was doing her hind leg "pick me up" song and dance routine in her cage and drew mom's attention. Mom, apparently near-sighted, leaned closer to the cage. At this Silk started clapping her little paws and really stepped up the wiggling. The mom let out an eeep! and propelled herself on down the table -- to Hairy's cage. Hairy was our trantula. He waved his tentacles at mom. She let out a shriek and made another hop backward. Iggy the iguana went into defense mode and hissed at mom because she frightened him. Mom screamed and backed rapidly away from the table. She tripped over a child and a chair in our over-crowded room and landed heavily on the bookcase. A glass jar toppled from the shelf; lightening fast mom caught it. Everyone inhaled at once. No one exhaled. The whole room was silent. The mother, staring at the glass container in her hands, realized it contained a brain and into this vast, unnatural stillness shouted a truly inappropriate word. She threw the jar into the air and bolted for the door, plowing children over in her haste to exit. One of my boys executed a spectacular dive and saved the jar. As he rested on the floor with the jug upon his chest, we all fell out laughing. When I finally caught my breath and we'd all calmed down, I redirected the children to their work, and sent the woman's son out to see if she was okay. He returned to the classroom with a huge grin on his face and said, "Mrs. C., my mama still wants to talk to you, but she says she ain't never comin' in here again. You'll have to go outside." You have to know we all fell out laughing again. I never could talk to that woman with a straight face. In fact, I just saw her in the grocery store. We came around the end of the isle from opposite directions, looked at each other and burst out laughing. She didn't recall my name, but she hasn't forgotten her trauma in my classroom. I am a teacher who truly knows how to make a lasting impression.

Day One

Ms. A's first #1 rule: Keep your blood on the inside. Ms. A's second #1 rule: Don't throw up on the teacher. Ms. A's third #1 rule: Don't step on the little kids. They stick to your shoes and you track them in on the carpet. If you can remember those three things we're going to get along together just fine. Student One (in an aside to another student): She can't have three number one rules. Student Two: She's the teacher, she can do anything she wants. Student One: It doesn't make sense. Student Two: I don't think it's supposed to. Student One: I think I'm going to like this class. Student Two: Yeah, she's cool for a grown up. Nineteen students, never have I had so few. I am certain it won't last. More will come; if not tomorrow, then after Labor Day.

Wordless Wednesday

It is Time

Tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. the first bell rings on a new school year. Each teacher will great his or her class for the first time. The tone for the year will be set within the first few hours. I peeked at my class roster today -- even though I was warned it was not set in stone. A line of people halfway down the block were still trying to register their kids for school today (despite the fact that the office has been open for registeration for the last 21 days). We will receive our offical rosters early tomorrow, and I know I should have waited until then to start fretting. Every year I am given one (at least) problem child. Every year I have suceeded in turning that problem child around academically. Well, it seems this year is to be no different -- except -- I've already had this child. He was in my reading class for an entire semester and he remains a complete mystery to me. He was very intelligent and always participated orally in class, but he would not work. He was content to sit in his chair and stare at a blank wall for hours. Because he was content immobile, restricting his priviledges did not motivate him. Praise did not motivate him. He just stared at me through dark expressionless eyes. Calling his parents only lead to a scene where his mother shrieked and he ignored her. The plan I will use --the plan I always use -- is unconditional positive regard. I also always use considerable prayer. If you are a praying person, pray for B, and pray for me. Thank you.

Post-It Notes

First note to self: Dear Self, if you want your eggs sunnyside up do not put them on to fry then begin reading the blogs of all your wonderful, witty and charming friends. Second note to self: Dear Self, the next time you want to test your smoke alarms, put eggs on to fry then go sit down and read the blogs of all your wonderful, witty and charming friends. To Do List: buy more eggs buy a new frying pan get brain serviced

Exhaustion

Ripped from today's headlines: The highly respected Las Vegas school teacher known to the blogging world as Quilldancer has once again been forced to concede that there are only 48 hours in one weekend. Of those 48 hours only two still remain. Quilldancer plans to spend them sleeping. As the Witness Team Chair, Quilldancer spent approximately 9 hours in church this weekend for Revival. She spent another 2 hours in church attending (most of) her last Lay Leadership class. She also spent 2 hours reading the textbook she forgot to take to her Lay Leadership class. Because she is a dedicated 5th grade teacher Quilldancer spent approximately 15 hours in her classroom this weekend creating bulletin board displays and hot glueing paper and fabric to her classroom walls (if she ever finishes maybe she will take a couple of pictures to share with you). Because she has far too much to do, Quilldancer has taken very little time to sleep, however she did enjoy a full 5 hours of rest from Midnight to 5:00 a.m. on Saturday and another luxurious six hours of repose Saturday night/Sunday morning. The remainder of Quilldancer's time was twittered away on general hygiene things, including a haircut; driving from place to place; eating; and -- in tiny measure -- commenting on the blogs of her treasured friends. The next time Quilldancer agrees to chair a committee and take a ministry class at the same time on the weekend before school starts she hopes one of her friends will twap her upside the head. Hard. This report was prepared for you by me, Quilldancer's zombie double. Though not as eloquent as the original Quilldancer, I believe I am much better looking.

This Is It, Folks

I'd like to come and cheer you up with a special song or ditty. I'd like to write a comic treatsie to show you I'm quite witty. I'd like to write a story that only QuillDancer could pen, Or I'd like to write a lovely poem and all your affections win. I'd like to do whatever it takes to keep you in this spot, But this nonsense poem, I'm sorry to say, is really all I've got. For those of you who've waited all night for this pathetic verse: Now aren't you sorry that you thought my silence was a curse?

Zzzzzzzzzzzz

I'd love to regale you with some zippy humor or a witty bit, but tonight the only thing I want to entertain is my pillow. Maybe I'll have something better for you in the morning. Night-night zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Tribute to a Dog

A dog named Doug met Ambrose Bierce ..within a book one day. The words they jumped right off the page ..and caused the dog to say, "Oh, the wonder of these words, ..they surely must be mine!" So the dog named Doug created a blog ..which simply is divine. A place where wisdom, wit and ridiculous ..all meet in one accord To thrust and parry, swashbuckle and flash ..swift as a dueling sword. People travel by 'net the world around ..to insult boast and mug; And when you ask them why they say, .."Ya gotta dig that dog named, Doug!" CLA

Assorted Silliness

Wal-Mart Weirdness: My senior neighbor does not have a car. Shortly after I moved in I realized that she walked once per week the half mile to Wal-Mart, bought her groceries, then wheeled them home in her little folding cart. Being a good neighbor I now drive her to and from the store once per week. Having me and my car at her disposal should have widened her shopping horizons, but she wishes to go only to the Super Wal-Mart. Period. So, that is where I took her tonight. I have a certain "look" about me. I don't exactly know what it is, but I know I have it because people come and ask me the strangest things. I was waiting for Joan as she compared packages of hamburger and this woman walked up to me (I was wearing shorts, a yellow t-shirt and flip-flops). She said, "Tomorrow is my son's birthday," and she pointed at a young man about 10. "He has asked for steak for his birthday and I have never purchased steak. What should I buy?" I directed her to the butcher. She responded, "Oh no. I don't want to bother him." I told her, "Ma'am, I don't work here." She said, "That's just rude. I'm reporting you to the manager!" Joan and I moved on to dairy goods. A lady in a motorized wheel chair rolled up to me. "Excuse me," she said. I respond to her while smiling brightly and anticipating being asked to hand something down from a shelf. Instead she says, "I've lost my tall husband. Have you seen him?" There are many things I want to respond to this query. None of them seem appropriate. Finally, valiantly restraining my grin, I say, "Ma'am, I have no idea what your husband looks like." She snaps back, "I just told you he's tall. What are you, stupid?" Apparently so. I keep acknowledging people in Wal-Mart when they speak to me. And a Bit of Sweet Brandi: My adorable nine year-old friend, Brandi (she's been in my Sunday School class since she was 4), came to school with me and worked very hard helping not just me, but several other teachers as well. In my classroom Brandi was using 409 and paper towels to clean a book case. I sat at a nearby table creating components for my bulletin board display. One small drop of overspray landed on my purple paper. I said to Brandi, "Will you look at this? You have ruined my paper." Brandi looks at my paper and raises her nine year-old eyebrows at me. "It will dry," she says. I respond, "What if it doesn't? What if it's ruined?" Shaking her head. "I'm telling you, it will dry." "I don't think it's going to dry, and I don't think you care about my pretty paper. I am going to just sit here and cry." "Okay," she says. "But you're just going to get the rest of it wet, too."

It's been nice ....

Dear friends, Family and Lurkers: I have a feeling you folks are going to be seeing a lot less of me for the next few days. I have the 9 hour chunk work takes out of my day, plus my other life committments, and the church revival coming up. I'll try to get by to visit everybody at least once a day. I don't know how fun or energetic my posts are going to be. Right now I am the walking wounded. I tried to grab a metal service cart as it tipped over today and I sliced my middle finger on my left hand pretty deep. Not deep enough to need stitches, but deep enough to bleed generously and cut a v-shaped flap in my finger, so you're lucky I am posting at all -- poor me! It is right in the top joint and typing kind of stings. And -- if I don't have time to post on all of my blogs -- I will definately post here. Hopfully by Monday my life rollercoaster will have straightened out (my room will be put together) and I'll be able to visit once in the morning and once at night. Maybe, if you're really lucky, I'll occassionally be able to squeeze in a lunch hour visit. Sincerely, Quilly

Wordless Wednesday

Pleading for Feeding

Groveling for Groceries Fluffy and Chrissy have no shame. As you can see they have brought their own fork to the awaited feast (and a bottle of new Vanilla Mint Listerine to help them freshen up after). Now they would like, please, for Mommy to quit taking their picture and fill their bowl.

We Are the Champions ....

I am the offical winner of the caption contest at Belle of the Brawl's place! "I know I only need five squares. I'm trying to decide which five!" ~ Quilldancer I most certainly did not win this on my own. I have to thank Donna, Jenn, Nessa, Betty, Lori, Cindy, Bill, my sister, Jackie, and Rob -- that I know of. All of them awesome friends. I probably have a few anonymous clickers to thank as well.

Vacation Ends

Even though I have been in setting up my classroom already, I offically returned to work today. We started the school year with a five hour meeting. The best part of the meeting was the time I spent before and after catching up with friends. Right now I am brain dead and cannot think of one single witty thing to say. How pathetic is that? Don't worry, I will bounce back soon. Nothing keeps me down for long -- not even the shackles called work. I cheered myself up with this:

You're Totally Sarcastic

You sarcastic? Never! You're as sweet as a baby bunny. Seriously, though, you have a sharp tongue - and you aren't afraid to use it. And if people are too wimpy to deal with your attitutde, then too bad. So sad.

How Sarcastic Are You?

It is bad when even computers know that if they give me lip I'll bounce it right back! [logs-off singing, I Will Survive ...]

Official Announcement

............Lori Linna .....Greatest Living Liar ..This certificate recognizes ..........Lori Linna .....for lies extraodinaire .........and awards her ..........First Place in QuillDancer's Liar's Contest ........Dr. John Linna Almost the Greatest Living Liar ..This certificate recognizes ........Dr. John Linna ...as an excellent prevaricator .........and awards him ..........Second Place in QuillDancer's Liar's Contest ............Donna K. .........Liar in Training ..This certificate recognizes ............Donna K. .......for passable lying ... .....and awards her ...........Third Place in QuillDancer's Liar's Contest QuillDancer's Honorable Mentions: My favorite lie came from Sarah, because it was apparent she has been reading my blog for awhile and she tailored her lie to fit right into my real life experiences. I also fancied these lies: Goldennib 1 -- for the surprise ending; although her second lie was also quite imaginative. I must admit, when I saw how close Lori and Dr. John were, I almost cast one more vote to tie them so Nessa could win third place. Old Fart -- because I am an Ian Flemming fan -- and because this lie is as close as I'm ever going to get to being a "Bond Girl." Tina's Lie -- because in the eight years I've known her, Tina's sense of the ridiculous has never stopped cracking me up. Ms. Liz -- because, although it wasn't our first meeting, her story contains a great amount of truth. Jenn 2 -- because she captured my personality to a T.

Paying Attention

Some days are diamonds, some days are stones. Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone. Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones. Some days are diamonds, some days are stones. John Denver

I bought a beuatiful Lexmark 3 in 1 laser printer. I was thrilled with the quality of my printed projects. I loved being able to easily scan items. I tried the fax out. It worked great. I will probably never use it again. My wonderful new machine created many magical projects, then the ink ran out. I went to buy new cartridges. I found them easily enough. I reached for the color cartridge and my gaze settled on the price tag. My entire body froze. My breath suspended in my throat. I know I was screaming but not a sound emerged from my body. I looked at the price tag for the black ink. It was slightly less daunting. I quickly calculated. If I sold one kidney, I could probably afford to purchase both cartridges. I picked up the cartridges and put them in my basket. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I felt my purse shudder. I couldn't stop to console it, I had groceries to return to their shelves. Here I have to explain that I ran to the store to buy cartridges because my machine quit printing in the middle of a big project which was due in just a couple of hours. I got home, changed the cartridges and resumed printing. All went well. Then about a week later, I needed to print another project. The black ink cartridge began acting up. I barely made it through the project in time to meet my deadline. Disgusted, I took the cartridge out, checked for damage and replaced it. I ordered the software program to clean the heads. Cleaning did not work. The black ink cartridge had developed a severe stutter. I contacted Lexmark customer service. They told me to change the cartridge and see if that would clear up the problem. They also suggested I send them the defective cartridge, and after examining it they would send me a replacement. Well, a couple of weeks passed and I hadn't bothered to get a new cartridge. Why would I want to spend another kidney on something that might not work? Finally yesterday, thinking of lesson plans, I decided I'd best get the machine in working order. I opened the storage drawer on my desk and reached for the instruction manual for the cartridge number. There, on top of the manual, rested the brand new black cartridge, still sealed in its box. I am happy to report that the machine is now operating at full capasity. The owner, however, is somewhat deficent.

Shell Shocked

Last night: Photobucket* has deleted my account and in doing so destroyed my beautiful blog. All the images that created it are gone. This morning: I'm baaaaack! My account is still locked, but my template seems to be working again -- I have an email in to Photobucket, hopefully this will be straightened out soon. If not, Pixie, who made my template assures me she can recreate it. Ilona, I love you for offering to host the images. I do have the most incredible friends! *My apologies to Flickr, an innocent bystander who got blamed for my plight even though PHOTOBUCKET was emblazoned across my site a gazillion times. Hysteria does things like that to me.

Liar's Contest Results

It isn't whether you win or lose. It is how you play the game. Winning isn't what makes people respect you. It may earn you some envy, or even some malice, but winning alone won't make people respect you. Genuine respect comes from how you handle yourself during the game. I am proud of my players. Even during the heat of the battle they held on to thier humor. As Betty (voting tirelessly for Lori) and Donna battled for first place, they exchanged comments on each other's blogs and got to know each other a bit. Last night just before the deadline Donna contacted me and conceeded. While she was busy with her job, her schooling, her kids, their schooling, her husband, his job and their home, Dr. John and Lori took an incredible lead. Donna said she was just too tired to try and catch up. As the other players -- long since left in the dust -- stopped racing for themselves, they did so with grace and humor. And please remember, as long as you visited each other's blogs and made some new friends, you're all winners! Here are the final states on The Liar's Contest: (I was not going to share this until tomorrow, but Dr. John is like a kid at Christmas. Although I'm sure he's waiting to see Lori's final score, not his own.) Jenn 1, 16 votes Goldennib 2, 37 votes Tina, 53 votes Bil Pud, 65 votes Ms. Liz, 82 votes Charlie, 86 votes Gary, 92 votes Donna 1, 144 votes Goldennib 1, 155 votes The Old Fart, 221 votes Bazza, 347 votes Sarah, 814 votes Jenn 1, 1606 votes Donna 2, 3521 votes Dr. John, 4202 votes Lori, 4203 votes To keep me honest I offer you THE FINAL POLL RESULTS. To receive your offical prizes, contact me through my email

Teacher Report Card

At the end of every school year I ask my students to write me a report card. I tell them to give me a letter grade, write one thing they liked about the class, one thing they learned that they will always remember, and one thing they think I need to improve. I never read those letters until the beginning of the next school year (to protect the students, least they should "sting"). I read the letters today. The majority of the students talked about my messy desk, either as something they would always remember, or something I needed to improve. So, next year I will work on creating an even bigger mess. (Well, they gave no suggestions on how to improve it so obviously I have free reign.) The several students also complained of being disciplined. One girl said, "I didn't like it when you caught me using a calculator on the math test and said that was cheating. I really didn't like it when you called my mom." One young lady said said, "I don't think it is fair that kids have to do thier homework at recess just because they don't do it at home." Several other students agreed. One cheeky gentleman suggested (with a smiley face) next year just give all your students A's and they'll really like you. Two of my brightest and best male students wrote rather interesting notes. Allow me to share them with you:

Ghetto Report Card A++ Super job! Dear Ms. A. Thank you for being my teacher this year. One of my favorite things about your class was you taught me how to be a fifth grader. You did not give me grades. I earned them. I also liked that you were my friend. You taught me a lot of stuff. One thing you taught me that I will never forget would be to pick the right friends. There was one little thing that bothered me. I think your future students would be happier if you stop yelling and don't embarass them for no reason, like when they're talking in class. It has been a great year. I will miss you terribly. You're the best. Sincerely, M.H.C.

Contrast that to:

Teacher Report Card A+ Dear Ms. A. Since you became my teacher I have had lots of fun, and I've learned a lot, too. You have done so many wonderful things this year. Something you do well is believe that each and every student can achieve a high goal. Another thing you do an outstanding job at is preparing us for sixth grade. You have taught me many things that I will remember all my life. One thing I will remember is to be patient and have confidence in people. Unfortunately, with the good things come the bad. In my opinion, I wouldn't want you to change, but I think some kids might take advantage of your kindness. I am not telling you to become mean. Just draw a line somewhere. Yours Truly, A.M.

A good many of my students talked about my storytelling ability, my strength in teaching them how to write well, and the fact that I occassionally write numbers backward on the board in math. My lowest grade was a B+ -- from calculator girl. Yes, Jenn, I love teaching.

Bulletin Board Blues

I am not tall. Even standing on a chair I am not tall. Therefore setting up and taking down my classroom can be a royal pain. Last year Mr. R. helped me. This year Mr. R is in Georgia helping someone else. Lucky someone else. Poor. short, me! So, I am standing on my tippy-toes hot glueing stars and stripes material (and a goodly portion of my left hand) on the cinder block wall above my whiteboard. Nearby is Brandi, a nine year-old who has consented to help me. Brandi is in the process of putting the classroom library on the bookcases. Her step one in this process is stringing all 5000 books across the floor so she can see which ones she wants to put where. So, once I get the wildly patriotic material glued to the wall, I begin to put the "antique map" motif border around it. About half way around the material I run out of border. Climbing from the table to the chair, the chair to the floor, getting the remaining border and climbing back up sounds like too much trouble to my lazy self. I say, "Brandi, there is more of this border in that red shopping bag. Would you bring it to me please?" Brandi obediently goes to the red shopping bag. "There is no more border like that," she tells me. I say, "Look again, Honey, I'm sure there were two rolls." Brandi pulls a couple of rolls of border from the bag. "This is what's in there. It doesn't match," she says. Great. I can't believe I was paying so little attention to my supplies! "Thank you," I answer. Then I reach up and begin tearing the border down. After removing two pieces I stop. I know there was more of that border. I get down, go to the table and look in the red shopping bag. The border is not there. I look in the yellow shopping bag sitting right next to the red shopping bag. The border is there. I make a sound of disgust, hold up the border and say, "I knew there was more!" Brandi says, "You didn't tell me to look in the yellow bag." Note to self: Take all supplies to work area at the same time. I've only been teaching 10 years. In ten more I'll get things right the first time.

The Return of Real Life

I am off to my first day of work since June 10th. Please feel sorry for me. As you await my return run over to Belle of the Brawl's place and vote for me in the picture captioning contest. Then pop over to Bits of me in Poetry and see my new poems. After that, continue on with the Liar's Contest -- though pretty much Lori, Donna 2, and Jenn 1 are the only ones in the race -- unless someone makes a major run from behind. There. If you do all that you'll have plenty to keep you busy, and I'll be back before you know I'm gone.

Oh My Gosh!

Every week Belle of the Brawl has a Tell Me Tuesday picture captioning contest. This week I have made it into the finals. I know your fingers are tired from all the clicking you've done here -- but run over there and vote for me anyway! I suppose that some of you may begrudge me this. You are likely thinking, "Why should I vote for her when she's already won so many cool prizes?" Okay. I know I won the awesome magnet made to look like the header of my own beloved blog in Dr. John's Blog Commenting Marathon; and I know I won the only money prize in Justin's Concept of Irony contest (in the tradition of true irony the second place winner is the only one who earned a prize of tangible value); but that does not mean that I don't deserve to win again -- and you my friends can help me. Go vote! Oh! And remember, don't even read the other entries. Mine's the best. Trust me. Hmmm, that reminds me of the Liar's Contest -- Betty, Lori's Mother-in-law, has been working her fingers to the bone to see that Lori wins. Donna is abusing herself and a couple of her friends to keep up. We'll just have to call this battle: The Duel of the Pastor's Wives. The two of them pretty much have 1st and 2nd place sewn up unless someone makes a surprise -- and heroic -- comeback. However, 3rd place is still up for grabs. Nessa, aka Goldennib, has brought it to my attention that certificates and band-aids are not enough compensation for all this clicking. She wants pain killers, too. I am sorry, Nessa. I am not licensed to dispense drugs through the mail -- or any other way for that matter.

Wordless Wednesday

Liar's Contest Still in Full Swing

Lies Here: Total Fabrications Vote on the right sidebar. Mozilla browsers, voting box at top right. IE browsers, voting box at far bottom right NO voting box? Click refresh.

Competition Escalates

Over 4000 votes were cast Tuesday. Lori and Donna have pulled far in the lead. Two contests still rage. One for first place, one between Sarah and Jenn for third. (But Jenn's not a third place kind of person so there may be a shake up coming). When Donna emailed me last night that she was giving up and letting Lori have the win, someone from England (love my sitemeter) picked up Donna's cause and kept those votes pouring in. That's probably due to the shamless plug Donna put up on two of her blogs with links to my blog and pleas for help. With this battle raging on I have to look again at the prizes -- certificates validating the greatest liars. Somehow that seems too little for so much clicking. I am thinking that each certificate should include a band aid for the clicking finger. I am sorry, you will have to provide your own wrist braces. I want to share with you this true story from my childhood on the consequences of over-zealous competition. It is on my Reflections of Childhood blog. Please click and read. And if you want me to toss in a vote for your name, leave a post.

Liars and Cut-throats!

Holy Moley! Would you look at those votes?! My head is spinning. The Liars contest is still in full swing and a few enterprising folk are campaigning madly for their votes. I am Switzerland. Completely neutral to all political arguements, but wholly open to currency of all kinds .... My vote can be purchased. Sarah got me to vote for her yesterday by enhancing her lie. Nessa just earned a vote by defending me on another blog. Donna and Lori both bought votes by commenting on my poetry blog. Stop by any of my other blogs and leave a post (see right sidebar at top), it'll earn you a vote. But, most of all -- have fun! Lies are here: Prevarications Poll is on the sidebar.

Potpourri

First off: I won a marathon! I have a certificate and a refrigerator magnet to prove it! On August 2nd, 2006, Dr. John had a blog commenting marathon and I commented on over 30 blogs. Not only that, I actually read the blogs and commented on the topics at hand. For my outstanding endurance and heroic effort Dr. John sent me a "genuine Marathon Certificate" and a refrigerator magnet of my blog header. They arrived in today's mail and I am quite tickled. Thank you Dr. John! (No, people, this does not explain why he is so far ahead in the polls. If you want to know how he's managed that, visit his blog and see how many folks are in his congregation.) Second bit of news: I have a new blog. It is called Bits of Me in Poetry. Today I lifted a picture from Rob over at Controlled Chaos, wrote a poem to go with and posted it on my new blog. Pop on over and read it. If you're in the Liar's Contest I'll even vote for you if you leave me a comment. (I'll cast only one vote even of you post 50 comments, sorry. Hmm, make that one vote for every day you post a comment there ....) Third bit of news: Sarah has proffered two lies. Her first lie is the one in the contest. Her second lie was when she "confessed" in the comments that she had to withdraw from the contest because her lie was actually truth. Ha! That one tickled me so much that I immediately cast a vote for her. Fourth bit of news: The contest has barely begun and already [to this second] 713 votes have been cast. Dr. John, his daughter-in-law, Lori, Bazza, and Donna are running neck-n-neck. Some of you have fallen behind, but don't worry. This is an endurance race and there are still five more days before the finish line comes into view.

The lies are here. The poll is in the right sidebar near the top. If it doesn't appear just click reload, it's there. Honest.

Time to Vote!

Time to vote for your favorite prevaricator. The "fabricated tales" of each author's first meeting with me are listed below. Read them all, then vote for your favorite. The poll will remain up through mid-night August 19th. The winners (1st, 2nd, & 3rd place) will be announced on or before Monday, August 21st at 8:00 a.m. Since it's a Liar's Contest we are all obviously short on integrity, so there is no limit to how many times you can vote -- or how often. There is nothing scientific or fair about this. Go out and campaign. Get your friends to come vote for you. Get strangers to come vote for you. The Greatest Liar will also most likely be the greatest hustler .... Let the games begin ....

Ahem. The poll is not in the comment section. It is on the right sidebar. You know, the place where my links usually are .... And if for some wierd reason it isn't there, just click reload and it will pop back up! Apparently it likes to play hide-n-seek.

13 Liars - 16 Prevarications

Dr. John's lie:

I first met Quill Dancer at McDonalds. She was standing on top a table dancing. This seemed such an odd thing to do that I had to ask her why she was doing this. She said " I'm quilldancer and I dance wherever I go". Well that sounded good though I thought just maybe she had had a bit too much to drink.That will get you up on the table all the time. It could have been that new McDonalds coffee. But she came down from the table and we had a nice talk. Now we are good friends. But I still won't drink that coffee.

Jenn's first lie:

It was at Devi's Corner...I was hungry and it was convenient (although like notorious for being the worst place in Bangsar for bag and phone snatchers), so I rocked up, ordered my roti canai and settled down with my book. And then I looked across and there you were, reading the identical book (The Secret Lives of Supposedly Asexual Bugs) and I thought, hey, what are the odds? So I caught your eye, we smiled at each other and then we started talking table to table (very rude I know, but this is Malaysia and you have to be loud to be heard especially in Devi's Corner) and then I discovered we shared a love of gridirons and again I thought, hey, what are the odds? So anyway, like any good blog addicts, we exchanged URLs and here were are. (OK Justin was somewhere in there too, but I can't remember where - and he did say something about separating us because we got so engrossed and left him out of the conversation)

Jenn's second lie:

What do you mean you don't remember coming to Malaysia? I said: "OK I grant you the smog and the rude drivers and the brusque shop assistants, but underneath it all, don't you think we are a very warm people?" And you rolled your eyes and said nothing. It was a very touching moment. (flicks a furtive tear)

Goldennib's first lie:

The last time I visited Las Vegas, I passed a hot dog stand where a showgirl stood holding a sign which said, "The end is near." Hair decorated with quills and wearing a tutu, she pirouetted in circles while singing, "What's New Pussycat." When she noticed I carried a basket brimming with Catnip, she fell in step beside me. She offered to trade her sign for the herbs. Being tired of carrying the catnip anyway, I gave it too her for free. She took me to see Andy Warhol on stage as a thank you. We drank tequila all night long and had tofu burgers for breakfast. As the sun set that morning, I asked her name. "Quilldancer," she said. "And what is the meaning of your sign?" "Wayne Newton's career is almost over and he wanted to give advanced warning, in case people wanted to see his final show."

Bil Pud's lie:

I think I met Quilldancer in the Jumbo Bar in Nakhon Ratchasima, Thailand in December 1996. She was queefing ping-pong balls with such aplomb and temerity that Rama IX himself was summoned for a Royal Command performance. I supplied the balls you see.

The Old Fart's lie:

Her name was Quilldancer, a Romantic, who had come to Corsica in search of Bandits. Rather like those women who venture into the desert to look for rattlesnakes. She found me in the mountains, hiding from the Lime Green Lollypop Girls at the time. I came to like this girl, we became blogging buddies and exchanged comments on each other's blogs. Twelve years later Quilldancer invites me to go for a ride in her Dodge Dart. She takes me to Las Vegas and promises me I will make a Million. She says I looked like Jerry Lewis but said I'd be nothing without Dean. She was correct.

Lori's lie:

I first met Quilldancer on New Year's Eve in Valley Forge, 1776. I was working on a painting of General George Washington crossing the Delaware. I was having trouble with the focal point of the piece when Quill suggested I paint him standing up in the boat rather than sitting down. "Perfect" I said and proceeded to finish the painting. To thank her for her brilliant suggestion, I offered to buy her a beer at the pub. She agreed and we got to talking about her writing. She showed me the latest copy of her work which was the "The Constitution". "Beautiful penmanship!" I exclaimed. I asked her why she did not sign it and she said because John Hancock took up too much room.

Sarah's lie:

I met Quilldancer in Idaho when she was 14. I pulled up to a gas station on my 125cc harley and found her looking sad . Her 125cc Yamaha was empty,as were her pockets. I tossed three quarters to the attendant and said "fill her up". She asked if I'd like to ride with her a bit. Just as we were about to leave the Hell's Angels pulled up and started laughing at us. Quilly said," we aren't going to let anyone treat us this way. She flew into action making Chuck Norris look like a wimp. The Hell's Angels promised to go to church every sunday from then on.

Donna's lie:

Do you remember the junior high Sunday school teacher when we were kids? No one liked her because she kept telling us we were all sinners (what 8th grader wants to hear that all the time) so you and I came up with a plan to get her to quit? I still can't believe you came up with the idea to make her think God was talking to her in the church. Looking back, I guess it was kind of dumb of us to think we could use the church sound system during the Sunday service and not have anyone but her hear it. We weren't known for our planning, were we?! Anyway, it really stunk having to do community service for the whole summer AND having her as a teacher again in 9th grade too! Well, except that we certainly became great friends after all that.

Tina's lie:

How could you ever forget our first meeting? It was at a concert to see the most excellent Hoffster himself, David Hasslehoff! Every one got into a panty flinging concert and your's flew farther, magnificent elastic on those grannies, but that little Malibu Barbie in the front row claimed her's did. Like a thong really has the weight to reach that distance. I stood up for your grannies, claiming I knew they went further than hers and the following fight got us thrown out before we ever saw our stud. But it got us talking and we worked together to wait for him after the show backstage. Good thing we both brought extra panties and we managed to get a couple good shots off before they stopped us. We've been talking ever since. Gotta love the Hoffster.

Charlie's lie:

We met in a bar in old Bombay. We met on the road to Mandalay. We met in a street in Kandahar. We met in a Cairo bazaar. Thus run the words of a song written by me for a musical commissioned by Andrew Lloyd Webber way back in 1993 when at the age of 28 I was regarded by some as a musical genius rivalling Rogers, Hammerstein and Schwarzenegger. Of course, Weber wasn't to know that our meeting, 6 months earlier, had inspired the lyrics. Why would he know? Why would anyone know? It's been our secret and I intend to keep it that way. That is, unless you wish to reveal exactly which one of those lines is the truth? Until then, my lips are sealed.

Donna's second lie:

Heck ya we went to high school together! Don't you remember our Senior prom? We finally got dates with the two hottest guys in school and even went in a limo. When we got there the gym looked amazing and we just knew this was going to be the best night of our lives. Little did we know the guys had been drinking since noon and were starting to act really strange. We weren't sure what to think when they told us they had 'special plans' for us later that night. Thank goodness you had a quarter and we called your mom to come and get us! I can't believe we had to hide in the girls bathroom for 20 minutes after we spent so much money on those dresses! Of course, we know now that looks don't necessarily mean manners, huh?

Bazza's lie:

Thanks for visiting, and your kind words, I suspect though that this is not the first time we have met. Back in 76/77 Dr Feelgood was playing on Canvey Island (or was it the Isle of Dogs?). You were seeing the drummer at the time and I was a roadie, you made some comment about my T-shirt being cool. During the gig, Lee the singer dedicated a song to you on behalf of the drummer. The song was called Baby Jane and I can still see the grin on your face when he said it. In fact I still see the grin on your face every time I play the song.

Goldennib's second lie:

I first met Quilldancer on a blue cheese collecting expedition on the moon. As this was a top-secret trip organized by the CIA, you can imagine my surprise when I saw a woman tripping the light fantastic across my private field. She took care not to trample my harvest, while she bounded around in pure delight. While we both were wearing space suits, I could tell that she was laughing and giggling and having a grand old time. She seemed to know something special and I wanted to know it, too. I racked my brain for a way to communicate with her. I know Sign Language but my hands were in mittens. The ink in my pen ran up instead of down on this gravity-less orb, plus I had no paper. Just when I ran out of ideas, she turned, showing me the message emblazoned on her back, "Kitties Rock."

Ms. Liz's lie:

When did I first meet you? I remember well. Charlie had just made his inappropriate escape from my classroom. He loved to play a game of "run and catch" as often as he could. I was in my watch and wait for the right moment mode when this lady in beautiful sandals came around the corner. "Need some help?" she asked. Not waiting for an snswer, she went to the other side of the child and together we lead him back into the classroom to an activity. We introduced ourselves and have been great friends ever since. (I in my loafers or tennies to play with little ones and you in your beautiful shoes.)

Gary's [off-topic] lie:

I was downtown parallel parking, and I somehow ended up in a parallel universe. It was really spooky. I was afraid I would never get back to reality. Until finally I decided to see what would happen if I put the car in reverse. Luckily that did the trick. But I'm definately not going downtown again any time soon.

Not Another One!

Please, stop by my latest blog: Bits of Me in Poetry And please don't ignore the others or they'll be jealous. Matthew 28:19 Reflections of Childhood Blog Surfer's Anonymous

Deadline Looms.

The Liars Contest ends at midnight tonight. So far 11 liars have chimed in with 13 lies. Stories will be posted Sunday evening, but if you want to peruse the competition early, click here. Voting will commence Monday before noon.

Seasonal Heart

Old Sol claims the sky by day, sweetening the fruit for the harvest moon; in your eyes I long to see a desire for my heart, Leaves begin to turn, soon the air grows crisp and chill, the sun grows aloof; but you gift me with no smile and hope withers in my breast. Snow blankets the ground, breath hangs upon frigid air and ice rules the day; like frost you chill my passions. I no longer seek your charms. Tender leaves unfurl, life reaches toward the sky and timid blossoms bloom; your interest in me only flares as my passion for you wanes. CLA The poem I have written is called a Renga. The three verse couplings are haiku and have a 5-7-5 syllabic pattern. The two connecting verses each have seven syllables. Together the four seperate haiku, linked by the 4 seven syllable verses (which together form their own poem) become one poem, complementing each other and adding greater depth and meaning the whole. Further contraints on the art form include the necessity of mentioning the moon in the third verse, flowers in the 19th verse, and love as part of the theme. This is my first attempt at creating a Renga. You may heap praise upon my head for doing so well. (If you have any other opinion please feel free to keep it to yourself!) I would like to thank Nea, proprietor of The Southern View. You write such beautiful prose that you prompted me to lift my quill again and make a few scribbles of my own. Folks, if you are into poetry, photography and gardens, you want to stop by Nea's place and soak up a little Southern charm. Maybe she'll enchant you into writing poetry, too.

Post Traumatic Stress

Occassionally my cats remind me that I was not the only one traumatized when my house was burglarized. In fact, I was relatively lucky. I was not home and I lost a few "things." Fluffy and Sidewalk (who is no longer with me) were home. I do not know what happened in my home. I left for church the first Sunday morning I lived here. 2.5 hours later I returned home to discover I had no DVD/VCR deck or [individual] VCR. The stereo was unpacked, but not stolen. Clean laundry was strewn about the living room. All the quarters in my change dish were missing, but the nickels, dimes and pennies remained; and an entire laundry basket full of high heels also disappeared. A friend had returned home with me. We searched the house. The back door was wide open. It hadn't been when we drove up to the house. This means as we entered the front door, the burglars exited the back. Almost that full day went by before I could coax Fluffy out from under the bed. Sidewalk remained cowering in the dusty dark until late Monday afternoon. Sidewalk never recovered. Her sunny nature turned slowly paranoid, then violent. I had to send her away because she constantly bit and scratched anything or anyone that moved. Between the robbery and Sidewalk's exodus to the kitty mental asylum, Chrissy was born (the child of Sidewalk and Fluffy). Sidewalk was a conscientious, and loving mommy -- but she trained her daughter to flee at the slightest odd sound. Currently the siding on my neighbor's house is being repaired while Fluffy and Chrissy cower beneath my bed. I do not need my possessions back, but we all truly mourn our loss of security. As a Christian I know I should not wish grief upon anyone, but during moments like this I secretly wish that my intruders someday face a similar violation.

Hallelujah It's Raining ....

liars. Hope you didn't think I was going to say "men." Believe me, if it were raining men at my house I wouldn't be telling anybody until after I'd vetted them all and chose the best of the lot for myself. Anyway -- I'm not here to talk about men. I'm here to talk about Liars. (Oh, hush ladies. That was totally uncalled for!) The Liars Contest is in full swing. So far five contenders have taken up my challenge. The contest will run until midnight, August 12th. Please remember all lies must be focused on our first meeting, and to be entered in the official voting they must be under 150 words in length. Our contending liars are: Dr. John -- his story made me laugh outloud. Jenn -- who offered two lies -- one a delicious tale of deli dining which, alas, is too long for the competition; and a delightfully sentimental tear jerker that was so heart felt I actually checked my passport to see if I had indeed forgotten a trip to Malaysia. Next Goldennib chimed in with a superb tale, unfortunately much too far over the word limit. However she is invited to try again. Bil Pud, formerly known as Dangling Bile or something like that, tells a story that explains why he's no longer dangling. And Bill, also known as Old Fart, submits a wordy tale in which he admits to plagerism as well as lying. Oh, and I mus'nt forget Nea, who -- upon attempting to enter the contest -- was forced to admit that the daunting ghost of her grandmother prevents her from formulating a lie. What a lovely lot of lying friends I have. Please, add your name to the list. Every Liar's story will be posted on August 14th, and voting will immediately commense. Curves -- Day 6 stretch in 3x around stretch out

Curves -- Day 5

Liar's Contest still in progress. So far I have no takers. I am trying to decide if this means all my friends are upstanding citizens unable to tell a lie -- or if it means I have no friends..... --stretch in --thrice around the outside --stretch out Today someone, in an attempt to be well meaning, insulted me. He overheard a conversation (we weren't trying to be private), interrupted and asked if I'd just said I was attending a gym. I confirmed. With great enthusiasm he said, "Good! I want to also tell you, you should not eat. Stop eating!" I stopped him -- actually not very politely. I assumed the talk-to-the-hand pose and told him that his instructions on how to manage my weight would be more apt to make me stop exercising. Why is it that people assume if you have extra weight you do not have feelings and they can say anything they please? Last Christmas season somebody actually said to me, "That's the biggest butt I"ve ever seen." I responded, "It's not near as startling as your manners." (I believe that squelched her theory that fat people are too dense to know they are being insulted.) And finally, an observation about exercising in general: I have noticed that when a half-dozen ladies start bebopping to "Pretty Woman," the oxygen gets sucked out of the room much faster than the ventilation system can pump it back in.

Wordless Wednesday

Liar's Contest

Tell me a fictional story about when we first met. It can be anything you want -- good or bad -- but it has to be fake. Your submission must be 150 words or less, or it will be disqualified. Entries must be received by Midnight, August 12th. On August 14th the memories of each liar will be posted here (along with a link to their home blog) and voting will commence. The polls will remain open through mid-night Friday, at which time all votes will be tallied. The first second and third place winners will be announced (again with links to their home blogs) on or before 8:00 a.m. (PST) August 21st. Prizes: 1st place: Celebrity Status as, "The Greatest Living Liar" 2nd place: Contender Status as, "Almost The Greatest Living Liar' 3rd place: Wannabe Status as: 'Liar in Training' All other participants earn proof positive that they are very poor lairs indeed. Now, let the games begin! I would like to thank Donnak for inspiring this contest.

4 Trauma Day

Some days you're the windshield; Some days you're the bug. 1st Trauma: This morning on my way to the gym I stopped at the new Big O Tire store on Craig Ave. The Lake Mead store I usually visit was out of my way, and a chain store is a chain store, right? Another woman and I approached the door together. Being obviously younger, I held the door and let her enter first. We walked to the counter together. The kid at the counter said, "Who owns the classic Caddy?" The lady said she did. He went into raptures over her car and processed the paperwork for her oil and lube. He did not so much as glance at me. She left the counter. I stepped forward just as the door opened. In walked a "briefcase." The kid behind the counter got all animated and started telling Briefcase everything that had been done to get the store ready for the division inspection. He talked about the shiny floor, the shiny windows, the shiny rim display .... Briefcase interrupted, "I believe you have a customer." The kid turned and looked at me as though I had materialized from thin air. He told me I'll have two new tires on my car in a half hour or less. About twenty minutes later I hear him telling Caddy Lady that he's really sorry, her car was going to take a bit longer than he'd anticipated. He said nothing to me. Very shortly there after Caddy Lady left. Twenty minutes later I went in search of my car. It was parked right outside the door. The guy at the counter says to me, "Oh yeah, your car's done." I paid him, took my car keys, walked out to my car and checked the trunk. No spare tire. I walked back in and requested my spare. As he put the spare in my trunk I said I was less than impressed with their service. He demanded, "Why, just because we forgot your tire?" I said, "That -- and my half hour wait that was an hour and five minutes without explaination or apology -- on top of the fifteen minutes it took for you to notice I was in your store in the first place." Does he apologize? No. He tells me that Caddy Lady is a very important customer and Briefcase is his boss' boss so they deserved special treatment. I said, "Well, since you've just religated me to non-important customer you won't mind if never return to your store." THEN he apologized. I should have stuck with the franchise where the service personnel think I am important even if I walk in wearing sweats and only drive an '03 Malibu. ------- 2nd Trauma (not mine): I get home from the gym, shower and am just about dressed when I hear knocking on my door. My neighbor lady often knocks on her way home from work, it is 2:45, the exact right time for it to be her -- so I open the door one-handed, still pulling on my jeans with the other ... only to shock the mailman speechless. Apparently he has never seen fushia panties before. Poor fellow. Anyway, my books from half.com have finally arrived -- 40 days after I purchased them. Nineteen days left before I return to work and now my novels arrive. ------ 3rd Trauma: On July 3rd I ordered a new cell phone and new service from (I thought) T-Mobile. Turns out the service was indeed T-Mobile, but the phone was not. In searching for T-Mobile I somehow ended up on an independant broker's site. Well, the independant broker never sent me my phone. I called them 3 times to no avail -- and no cell phone. So today I get a bill from T-Mobile for my activation fee and 1st month's service. My heart flipped over -- certain someone else was using my new cell phone, I called T-Mobile's customer service. They were wonderful. Apparently stuff like this happens all the time with brokers. She asked me if I wanted her to transfer me to their sales department so I could have them ship me a phone. I told her that if it was all the same to her, I'd like to go to my local T-Mobile store and talk to a rep with "skin." So the nice lady from customer service gave me the addy for the nearest T-Mobile store, I went there -- and walked out talking to a friend on my new phone! ----- 4th Trauma: As I left T-Mobile two woman stopped me in the parkinglot. They were wearing enough bling to blind me in the sun. One says, "My food stamps didn't come. We need food for our babies." I look around and see no babies. What I do see is two young women in their early 20's. Both well groomed and sharply dressed. Both wearing fancy painted acrylic nails and way too much glittery jewelry. I shook my head no and said, "I'm sorry, you dress better than I do," and I brushed by them. Behind me one woman said to the other, "I told you we were dressed too nice." ------ So, how was your day? Tomorrow I am staying home. Oh wait ... must get curvy. Curves: Day 4 stretch in 3x around the gym stretch out

Haiku

Skirts a-flair, daisies dancing in a green field, worshiping the sun.

CLA

Interrupted Joy

So, today I was looking over my finances and feeling very proud of myself. My frugal summer paid off. I had a bit of extra money to sock away in the savings account. I did a little dance around the kitchen and gave myself a couple "atta girls." Then tonight I walked out of the church Lay Leadership class and -- flat tire -- sidewall split wide open, a little desert dry rot. Yippee. You can't replace just one tire. You know that right? Two. Two minimum -- probably all four, because what are the chances only one of them is rotten? Never celebrate extra money.

Meme Tag

I have refrained from using the term "Old Fart" to describe my blogging buddy, Bill. I have refrained because I am a lady, and because Bill is younger than I -- and I am not old. However, since Bill has "blessed" me with this charming meme, I have developed a new appreciation for at least half of his chosen nickname.

(Just kidding Bill.)

I wish: - I was more... tidy. - I was more... affluent. - I was more... observant. - I was more... energetic. I hear ... the toaster oven timer ticking. I wonder ... why Bill thought I wanted to do this. I regret ... words spoken; words unspoken. I am ... original and unique. I dance ... much to the dismay of others. I sing ... much to the distress of my friends. I cry ... over sentimental things. I am not ... always confident. I make with my hands ... messes. I write ... not enough. I confuse ... everybody. I need ... Jesus. And finally: TAG! -- It's your turn, Rob and Tina.

Haiku

Stag of the forest bold in beauty, spirit, and curiosity.

CLA

Haiku

I entered a poetry contest yesterday and did not win -- but of course in the case of this contest what you really "win" is an invitation to buy the poetry book. The contest rules: write a haiku about the picture. A Haiku is a three verse poem with the first and last verses having only five syllables, and the middle verse having three (5-7-5).

Amber waves of grain call to your wandering heart, come home on the range.

CLA

My Fluffy Hero

Laundry day: I snatched the top sheet from my bed, rolled it into a ball and tossed it into the hallway. This is an automatic action. I do it every week. I live alone, so the tossing often comes before or as I turn my head and look into the hall. This morning the sheet left my hands seconds before I realized Fluffy was sitting just outside my bedroom door. He was not watching me. He was looking toward the living room. The sheet hit the wall on the oppoite side of the hallway and dropped to the floor millimeters from his nose. Fluffy did what only cats can do. He quadrupled in size while leaping into the air. Once in mid-air he turned around and fled for the bathroom. I don't believe his feet touched the floor until he got there. While chuckling, I tossed the bottom sheet into the hall as well. I heard a throaty and threatening Siamese, "rowwwrr." As I stripped the pillow cases from the pillows I moved so I could peek down the hallway. Fluffy was doing his impersonation of a stalking lion, the bundle of sheets his prey. Just as he leapt to murder the diabolical cotton bundle, I tossed the pillow cases. Fluffy landed on the sheets. The pillow cases landed on him. One pillow case contorted wildly, leapt into the air and fled toward the bathroom. Fluffy out-distanced his attacker just outside the bathroom door. When the pillow case dropped to the floor Fluffy turned and beat it mercilessly. As it lay dying he spun, executed a perfect lion-charge and leapt upon the sheet bundle. Such was his battle prowess that it died instantly. Fluffy looked up at me, released a satisfied, "arrruuuu," and invited me to praise his greatness. Of course I did. He is my Knight protector. Curves -- Day 3 --stretch in --twice around the outside --stretch out I'm chaffing. Help!

Justin Runs Rampant Raves Readers

COI Kahn Concept

Kahn's, Concept of Irony, contest causes considerable commotion. The calculatingly clever contest commences. Click COI to compete.

The Well-Balanced Child

Something in a comment at Q's place just set me to thinking. It had to do with being odd. Let's consider the evolution of me. I am my mother's youngest child, my father's middle child and the only child they produced together. This means that, in the various households I've lived in between birth and 18 years of age, I was the youngest child, the oldest child, the middle child, the step-child and the only child. I have all the syndromes. In light of that I submit that I am not odd, I am one of the few well-balanced people living today. It is the rest of you who are odd. Curves -- Day 2 --stretch in --twice around the outside --stretch out

Curves -- Day One

Not curvy yet .... Wait! That's not true. I have curves, some just go out where they should go in, others are more generous than designated on the original design specs. The first and hardest part of my workout was getting into my brand new athletic shoes. Either my arms have gotten shorter or my legs have grown longer. The second hardest part of my workout was the lady "training" me, her syrupy-sweet voice could be used for a sugar substitute. She kept asking -- "Are you sure you can do this?" -- which is less than motivating. If I didn't think I could do it the membership money would still be in my bank account. One thing about my workout did suprise me. I ran out of breath before I ran out of stamina. However, right now I am noticing a slight "heaviness" in my biceps, and a definate twinge in my lower back muscles. There is also a bit of stiffness in my neck, but I think that is nerves. I just finished giving the message at tonight's Prayer and Praise service. Afterwards as people were shaking my hand and complementing my sermon they kept saying, "Oh my gosh! You're freezing!" Actually, most of me was melting, only my hands were frozen. Preaching does that to me. For those of you concerned about my self-concept -- thank you, but my ego is pretty dang healthy. Infact, there are some people who might go so far as too say it is too healthy. My comment is this -- don't feed it after midnight and you have nothing to worry about. However, I will address your concerns. I am not trying to lose weight to attract a guy or gain greater respect. I am trying to save my right knee. I have grown fond of it over the years and want to have it with me in my old age. I would also like to do a few things that are presently difficult -- like see my feet; sit in a booth at a restaurant; walk through china shops without fear; play games with my students; breathe .... You know, little things that will improve the quality of my life.

Wordless Wednesday

Curves

Today I enrolled at Curves, a ladies only gym. Tomorrow morning at 9:00 I have my introductory session. After that if I am to lose weight they say I must show up for three 30 minute sessions per week. I plan to go five times per week -- every night after school. Between now and the first day of school I plan to go every morning. I have some stats on my weight and my body fat percentage but I don't know that I'm ready to share them yet. I will say that for my weight they were very surprised that my body fat percentage is as low as it is (don't mistake that to mean it is low). I also took full front and sideview pictures of myself today. I definately am not sharing them, but I will say this -- I should be ashamed to be seen with me.