A very lame class on abuse prevention

Tonight I took my teenager to a Catholic Abuse Prevention class. I had thought that this would be great-- a chance for the Catholic church to prevent some of the abuses that have occurred in the past, that have blotted her history. It was lame. The teens talked about relatiooooonshiiiips and premarital sex and waiting. It was the same lame and stupid crap that my generation heard as kids and while we parents were required to sit through it, I got the impression that the kids were speaking for us. Statistically, how many of these kids will go to the altar as virgins? How many in that room were gay? I am not worried about priests or clergy making moves in this parish because we have a lot of safeguards, but if they do and if they succeed, I will blame it on the education.

They spoke of the acronym for LIFE (Love, Infatuation, Friendship, Exploitation.) We talked in our groups about what this meant. In mixed groups of parents and youth, we were asked to write down what we thought of these four definitions. Then the moderator of the session wanted them to be read to our groups and for us to guess who said it. I told her that I didn't think this was a great idea for her to spring this after we had written these down, so she quickly told us that if someone didn't like this, to just read them. Of course when the group chose their faves to share, the woman queried, "Who said that?" Knowing who said what did not matter to what she was teaching and I have no idea why she asked. My quote was read as the best from our group, as I said that infatuation is like salad dressing. . . a little goes a long way, but it is never the main course of the meal.

They spoke of waiting for sex until marriage, but they didn't talk about the hormonal effects of sex on the body and why this might be a good thing. While I do not know if it is true,  I was told in a Crises Pregnancy volunteer class that sex produces happy hormones that make you feel attached to the person you are with, and that in a healthy relationship where there is love, it really builds your relationship up with your partner/spouse. I get that way. (I have had reason to think of it lately, bad experiences from my past, and indeed, good experiences, also, and the casual encounters, where my boyfriends didn't want to be called my boyfriends, who panicked at me calling the Sacred Act, "making love," I had to detach myself from them. One of my friends recently shared with me that if her husband is looking at his iPhone instead of paying attention to her when she is talking about her day, she feels like she did with her casual encounters when he makes moves on her later.)

I can handle that they didn't talk about abuse by clergy in the class, but they didn't talk about abuse by other people. I think that gay teens need to be warned about abuse happening just as much in their relationships and how to spot it-- and places to find out how to get out of the situations. (Of course gay youth don't exist in the Catholic church and if they squeeze their eyes shut tight enough, they can pray away the gay!) They also didn't really talk about abuse in interpersonal relationships.

The girls were wistful about what love is. It's so simple to them at this age. It was basically the crap about "True love waits!" The message of the evening was, "If it is infatuation, don't! If it is love, wait!" How simple! They didn't talk about how to get from point A (being single) to point J (being married.) Oh-- I am assigning letters to my variables. They touched very lightly on hormones which, while they are well and good, they did not over ride them. If I was 16 and making out with my boyfriend, I would not be thinking of the bookish hag that taught the class.

I think it is noble to wait until marriage to have sex-- you avoid a lot of problems, many that are too personal for me to go into here as I'd offer up my personal experiences. The issue, however, is not to wait, but how to wait. If you choose to not have sex before marriage, I think that dating is like saying that you don't want to drink, but you are going to go to a wine tasting. Don't put yourself into temptation's way! Why can't the Catholic church figure this out? They need a young adult group (not youth) director who provides outings for the singles to meet and go out just to have fun. Bowling, white water rafting, these things are all great ways to meet other singles in the group and to go out. One of my friends is an Orthodox Jew and her kids will not date and will instead be introduced to possible matches and they will not be left alone by choice, until they get married. I wanted to stand up and scream in that class, "Listen! Your bodies are made to want to have sex! Decide now what you want to do with this choice! If you don't want to have sex before you marry, going off to a party college is a bad, bad, bad idea! Involve your parents! Don't go out with your friends who like to date so they can troll!" I knitted and reserved my comments for Cloud when we got in the car. She said, "You should be teaching this class, Mom." I told her that I am the old lady who knits and covers her hair and who sits in the corner. She said that that is only believable until I start talking, and then I could be wearing a gorilla suit and no one would notice. That was sweet.

They did say that "friends with benefits" is a form of exploitation, which I thought was great. Adults need to be told this, too. Sadly, the woman giving the talk is not someone who I could see as ever having had to avoid a situation such as this. If she was pure when she married, I doubt that it was by choice. It is complicated to have kids take this advice from someone who does not seem to have ever had a life to enjoy, who was ever young and vibrant like they are.

Of course, choosing a life partner is something that one cannot cover in two hours, but this course was about abuse prevention, and I thought it did a bad job of covering abuse prevention.

The class should have been taught in a gender specific fashion. I sat in the back and watched the girls look back at the boys before they spoke, and the boys didn't talk much at all.

Overall, I felt cheated of my time. The people who put the class on felt good because they made parents and teens come together to talk. They didn't talk about anything that I wasn't discussing with my kids when they were younger.

Guns and pansies

I do not agree with my husband's church. It's something going on post what they call the "Old" Testament, but that is beside the point. I was trying to get in with the women and to do their craft group with them and to teach-- I want that camaraderie in my life. I didn't get far. Earlier in the week, I went to the craft group and that went really well. I like probably all of the women. It was MLK Day and many of our husbands had our children so only a few kids were at the church with their moms. There were just enough that they were a manageable number and they were all good-- even the ones who misbehaved were good!

Today I went to a teacher training. I got my teenager out of school early so she could be in the training and I was looking forward to a fun afternoon of learning and mother-daughter time with people who I want to like.

The other ladies are wonderful people, but we have a slight disagreement on guns. When I grew up, I was taught to respect guns. A toy gun was still a representation of a tool. You didn't aim it at anyone, but you could aim it at things. The things had to have no one behind them. A lamp was OK, unless someone was on the other side or next to it. A wall was not OK because you had no idea of who, if anyone, was on the other side. (It was OK to throw darts if someone was on the other side because darts, real or fake, couldn't go through the wall. Duh!)

So at the training today, the leader was talking in her breathy voice about how to teach lessons when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of kids with fake semi-automatics and pretend guns circling the parish hall. (Fake semi's are plastic models that look like semi-automatics. Pretend guns look like sticks, pieces of toast, or PVC pipe.) They bothered me. Then the little brats came inside. I mumbled that they looked like a band of terrorists and a few of the moms giggled, "Boys will be boys!" Well, these kids were mixed and the boys included boys and girls and they were running. One of the moms didn't like the running and told them to run outside.

A little later, one of the daughters of a high ranking man of cloth said something snooty to Cloud when she told her to take the giant PVC pipe out. That was when I decided that I needed to go home and that I'd not be teaching there and I pretended to check my messages and made an abrupt getaway with Cloud and Starshine, who'd been pretty quiet and had played really nicely with another little girl.

As I was leaving, a small band of kids were running inside and one of them pointed his fake semi-automatic at me. I told him to point it at the ground and he sneered at me and pointed it at my head and yelled, "BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!" I pretended to ignore him and looked at him again when I was 20' away and he was smiling with his fake gun pointed at me. I realized that with such disrespect that I personally can't go back there and do much of anything.

I texted my husband and he said that boys would be boys and blew it all off and said I was over reacting. Somehow, I am not supposed to gather from this that he doesn't value me! Whatever-- but I was greatly annoyed. My husband is a member of the church board and I really wish (for the sake of me being able to do more than have dinner with him) that he had at least faked concern, "I can see how you would find that scary since you were raised to respect guns. I'll bring it up at the next church board meeting that we ask all parents to have their children leave their fake guns at home." (He said that if we were together that he'd have talked to the brat's father, but I seriously doubt that he would have done anything. I don't go there and I am not really a part of the group. If he thinks that I was over reacting in what I told him, he wouldn't have done anything. He claims that he has taken guns from kids, but I just don't believe it!)

Anyway, as quickly as I got involved, I decided to leave, as has Cloud and she won't teach there, either. It is sad because I would like to be a part of a religious learning group, but I do not belong there. I don't have an issue with people having guns and using them properly.

Several months ago, I FaceBook'd a quote that had to do with the Korean War and taking away guns and one of the mothers from that church got upset thinking that I wanted to take away her guns. I thought that bickering at my FB page was overreacting and a bit invassive, and since she had helped me a great deal in an emergency, I was wont to slam her about anything. I couldn't possibly bring up my concerns without being publically slammed by her and her friends with basically how my husband feels.

The summer is slipping away. . .

My life is about to tumble into chaos. What am I doing to myself? I have writers cramp from signing up six kids for school. You would think that the The Luddite School District would have us able to sign up online, but that is not the case. The Luddite School District has us doing everything on paper. I asked if they had string and cans set up at the middle school or if they were up to rotary dials yet and they were not impressed with my sense of humour.

I took Cloud in (8th grade) to sign up and one of the narcs was razzing her, “I see a young lady who wants classes in fashion?” Cloud said, “I can learn that on my own. What I want are some good math and science classes.”

He laughed and said he could get her some hard teachers and she blinked at him and said, “I just want someone who can teach science and math.”

Guy is going in to 6th grade. He’s quite happy about it. He has wanted to be an FBI agent but finally realized that with his speech impairments and reading problems that it won’t happen, so he is shifting gears toward being a mechanic or a carpenter. I told him that this is great, that he can build his own home and live happily. “Chicks dig a man who can fix a bathroom door!” He blushed! He is so cute.

I am getting Basil, Dmitri and Mudd into a language immersion school up the road from me. With Mudd in kindergarten and Calamity Jane at a different school that I am on the board at, I'll have four sets of times to get kids to school. I think we’ll be going to bed at 21:00. I don’t know when I will write for pay. The language immersion will be hard at first. The boys did not learn any of their language over the summer, and they are expected to be reading books that kids in a particular country read at their ages. It’s OK that they didn’t—none of the other kids were doing much, either. They will be doing study groups and working their asses off this year. In a way it is good that I don’t have a lot of money because all they will have time for is school anyway. It will be a challenge. Families have to put in time at the school, four hours each month. Cloud has been putting in the Crumpet hours there—she enjoys going in and helping with the work crews of parents and older siblings, even though she is too old to attend.

Starshine is hilarious. I love the age of 4. I loved the age of 4 with all my kids. (She'll will be 4 next month.) The other day after church I decided to go on a walk instead of going straight home after coffee hour. (Actually, Mudd and I had gone for a walk during church—The Lake beckoned next door! Mr. Crumpet glared at us after a long absence and we tried to sneak n’ slosh back in, both of us with wet shoes! Oops!) As we walked around the back roads in the area, we found the Alaskan equivalent of wild raspberries, watermelon berries, red currants. . . Starshine kept saying, “Look! Nature’s gifts!” Yes, she gets it from me. Then of course she is clingy-- they go through a few phases of clinging as they go from babyhood to 5 years (my mom says “babyhood to 30 years.”) At several points, I got too far away from her and she said, “Mother! You get over here this minute! I have a hand that is free and that needs to be held!” One hand was on her hip, the other hand and pointed index finger were making my wrist gesture of, “Get over here now!”

We were playing Go Fish last night and she is learning her numbers. She knows them, sorta. She has little cards with fish on them and on one, there is a zero. I asked her what number was there and she said, “Four.” We had been saying each number and counting the fish and I said, “Starshine! There are no fish in here! Where do you see four fish?” She explained to me that they were hiding and that she had a very silly story about the mommy fish wanting to make them eat dinner but how they wanted to play hide and seek outside for “just a half hour more!”

Oh-- with church. I don't go often. In the summer, my personal time alone to clean, write, paint, muse alone, is non existent so my husband takes the kids to church. I go more often in the winter, but I still need my down time. I went to make sure that I saw our priest before he leaves in two weeks for more school. I told him why i don't go. He got on me, "Oh, you mustn't take for granted the blood and body of Christ!" (Communion.) I don't even feel a connection to my church, I don't feel like I belong, and he said that? With seven kids still st home, he thinks that I take church for granted? Does he know how little time I have alone?!! So annoying. I felt more cut off from this church than ever when he said that. Mental note to self: claim that I am on my menstrual cycle all the time so I don't go, then he'll do the guy thing, "Oh! Mmmm. We miss ya." Some women don't go while on their cycles.

Basil was very funny last week. I tried a new tactic on getting the kids to clean their rooms and pick up after themselves. Some Ph.D. from Quebec said that parents need to make doing a job it’s own reward and to instill in the kids how good we feel when doing something like picking up clutter. I asked him to take care of the kitchen while I did something else and, following male role model's ways, he told a younger child to do it. I got upset with him and told him to do it. He didn’t as he got preoccupied with the laptop. I went in ten minutes later and he said, “Why should I deprive you of the satisfaction and good feeling this brings you?” He was cracking up then and apologized and did it!

Things I shouldn't do when my man is away. . .

I took the kids to church tonight and my husband is on a business trip. I am having a glass of pinot noir right now. Wine is not on the fast-- but I need a glass. The kids were being scamps! My 11 year old son was trying to melt and bend candles UP IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, my littlest ones were swatting at each other and being silly, using me as a barrier to hide behind. We would bow and cross ourselves and my 6 year old, who is TALL, up to my mid upper arm (I am 5'7") was bowing as was I and she stood up before I did and I got a bloody nose. Starshine was doing standing bow (yoga move) and then trying to country western dance as I'd grab her hand and she'd do a little turn under it. Mudd kept doing a Michael Jackson grab and saying that he had to use the bathroom but didn't need to actually urinate-- he was stringing toilet paper in there. Basil (10) kept going outside to look around as he obsesses over the volcano. Dmitri (9) was bopping around to some internal music (he does not have special needs.) The service was long and we left early.

The bright spot was the priests' daughter who came to me and held my waist. She is 5 and a little angel. I could have stood all night with her.

Evening with the Ladies' Relief Society

I do not think that I can keep up with myself. On Tuesday evening my friend Jennipher called and invited me to a Mormon Relief Society meeting where we would have dinner. I’d never been to one and decided to go, with my religious husband telling me to go,”but you are going as her friend as a reporter! You are not getting converted!”

OK, so I am not converted, but it was fascinating. We went and she introduced me to women who make jams and jellies and homemade marshmallows. (She didn’t know that I wanted to learn to make them, even though I am not keen on marshmallows.) The lesson was that they wanted to emphasize the three levels of Mormon Heaven so when a “sister” was speaking to the group, the lights went out and we were told that our time had run out and that our final reward was at hand. (This was funny—when we stood, we all looked at each other with the same expression, “Do I take my purse?” We took our purses. Not only can you take it with you, you are expected to!)

We were to walk through the dim-lit halls until we got to a small (and therefore crowded) room. This was terrestrial where unrepentant murderers, rapists, and people who refused to accept the Heavenly Father went. I am not making fun of this, OK? It wasn’t Hell, but it was dark and dreary and we were told that we’d sleep out the first 1,000 years there and then be judged. There would be no families. It was dark and bland. We were given our reward: Ritz Crackers with spray cheese.


The second room was a bit bigger. We were told that we’d not have families there but that we would be single and just kind of live, with Christ coming to see us, but not interested in hanging around. This is called tellestial. We had a spicy canned vegetable soup that made me wondering if I could go back for the crackers, but I thought better of saying this! (Jenn joked that she was ready to go back for seconds on the crackers and I agreed!)


The third was dinner on the celestial level. It wasn’t Villa Nova, but it was still nice. Chicken Cordon Bleu with vegetables, salad and five kinds of pie. In spite of it being Lent, Orthodox are expected to accept hospitality so I enjoyed this. I personally don’t eat pork but you know. . . I enjoyed it. I seldom sit down for dinner.


Several of the husbands were there serving and I called Jenn’s husband my personal purveyor of temptation as he kept bringing me cherry and chocolate pie and asking if I was sure I didn’t want a slice of each! When they gave the talk, I didn’t say anything but I was a bit agog realizing that they believe that “we” shall become like gods and have families at this level. This being said, I did not loose respect for my friends because no matter what they believe, they have a strong value in service. Few if any in that room were doing good things to become gods. Those ladies seemed to have a genuine desire to serve, but Jennipher assured me that they all had their own issues outside that place, just as any group of individuals do in any church. I think they would be as they were anyway even if all that was promised to them was Terrestial Heaven.


I found out that Mormons don’t have crosses in their churches because the cross symbolizes death and Christ dying, where they like to focus on Christ living. I told them about my priest and said, “I think he has crosses embroidered on his underwear, but I’m too polite to ask!” (They laughed.) Orthodox go a little nutty with the crosses all over the place. Mormons see them as a focal point that they don’t want.


Some missionaries wanted to sow the ground for converting me and I was like, “Please do not try to convert me or get me to come to services. I am happily Russian Orthodox, but teach me how to can and freeze things properly and I won’t be a burden to you in difficult times!” Then i asked them about their travels to my state. They thankfully took the cue, realizing that I was serious, and they were very interesting guys. Handsome and dashing! I enjoyed hearing about their families and what they have been through. They really come out of these 2 year stints armed and ready for living. I was very impressed with them.


One thing—I asked if there was much knowledge as a whole in the LDS to learn Hebrew and Greek, the original languages that the mainstream Bible was written in, and there wasn’t. There were probably some who learned, but why when Joe Smith had the golden plates written in Egyptian hieroglyphs? Did they learn Egyptian? No—the plates had been lost before JS could show them. I don’t get that part.
As much as I have in common with them, I can never get over what we don’t have in common and the bit about Joseph Smith. The Bible lends itself to science—all those laws in the Torah are all proving themselves and JS didn’t pass the test with the Egyptian writing later. Outside their sanctuary and class rooms they have pictures up of various stories which was fascinating—that trip across the country to get to Utah was impressive. I have read stories on that trip and other women on the trail being impressed with how much the Mormon women got done and wouldn’t work on Sundays. I told them about the icons in my church.

The missionaries asked about Orthodoxy and I said that I couldn’t know where to begin, but that ~I~ would probably get irritable when we discussed which church was first, and that since I was on their turf, I’d just be happy with whatever they said. I could tell that they liked me as a person and would have loved to have had me join them in the celestial level-- and that was sweet. Still, I think a lot of stuff with Joe Smith is messed up. I have heard it from Mormons and I just don't get how educated people can agree with it, but then when I say that I believe that icons are a window for saints to look in on us, they might find me also whacked. You don't beleive in your faith-- you have faith in your beliefs.

Jenn was not upset with me for saying that—she said that when you have two churches who feel that they are documented as being right, you may as well put aside your differences and focus on your friendship. Apples and oranges—both are different, but sweet, and I hope that neither one will get us to Hell.


The Relief Society really believes in caring for one’s neighbor and doing good things and supporting each other. I hope that I can keep meeting with them and work with them. There is a lady there who does beeless beekeeping—she makes honey from flowers. I made this when I was 9 with my mom and one of her friends. I was really excited when she asked for my number and invited me over to do this once we get some clovers growing.


On those missionaries—they were breathtakingly handsome! I always used to invite them in when I was a teenager and I’d chat them up and bake cookies, "Lutherans are really good homemakers, too!" and my brother liked entertaining the Jehovah’s Witness girls who came by with their mothers!

Writing for a Living, the Lost City of Atlantis and Church

Last week was a rough week. Spring Break in the house of Crumpet is like being caged with wild monkeys. That should be, "sick, wild monkeys." The flu made it's way through after the coughing and I was not having a great time. The kids who I homeschool were asking how soon the others would be going back. No one was having much fun, but I took out some remnant newspaper and rolled it across the floor and brought out some paint. First the kids were painting pictures, then Mudd painted his hand, and soon they were painting their feet and walking over the paper. I used tape to keep it on the floor and they had a great time.

I got out some of my gardening books and the kids each chose what they want to grow in their 4' X 4' boxes, which seems to change because they all have different tastes.

On Thursday night was the end of a long day for me. Basil is too darned smart, and he and Cloud were going at it. My husband came home late and I was ready to throw myself from the rope that I was hanging from and he gave me $20 to go to the book store to have some coffee and write.

I chatted up a few people who all told me that I need to write romance novels. What gives? Do I look like a romance writer? Do I act like one? Isn’t that like telling someone, “You really need to model for Poor Richard’s Almanac!”? Or asking me, “Have you considered being a factory worker instead of going to college?” Romance novels are not literature.

A lady who I was chatting up said that when the economy sours that country music fans increase which leads us to one universal truth: country music listeners bring down the economy. (They also read more escapism.) What do people want to read? Happiness. They want peace and joy and happiness. I have decided to dedicate my life or at least the time being to writing complete fabrication fiction, or in other words, marital bliss. (I am bracing for my husband to throw a pillow at me! LOL) I am thinking of writing about people whose husbands are in current conflicts (military) and staying together through thick and thin, sticking together like glue, resisting temptation-- sometimes willingly, other times having good friends pulling them from the brink while they are kicking and screaming . . . that sort of thing. My ex husband was military and I have quite a few friends who married it.

On Saturday I took the kids to a local bookstore for a reading hour with Kellie Davis-- the lady gets into reading and had a lot of fun. My kids were trying to attack her, having no problem asking her why she covers her hair, asking her where she was from, etc. She has nerves of steel and kept a rapport going with all of the kids and she had about 20 kids and moms there, not including mine.

My kids enjoyed this reader, but also went to some stations where there were crafts being done.

There was also a demonstration for a fiber arts guild going on. My kids were not into this, but the parents were. Ms. Davis seems like the ADHD sort and when she was done reading, caught a drop spindle that was tossed to her and started trying to spin. She is a better reader than spinner, but was game for just about anything and promised the guild members that she would be back for their meeting to spin. All of us tried, but my husband caught her on camera.

Today Dmitri embarrassed me in a cute way. He is 10 and loves to read about Atlantis. He asked our priest about it and if he believed in it. Our priest asked him a few questions about why he thought it was real and the priest said, "There are so many stories about it that it must be rooted in some truth, so yes, I think that it may be real!"

Dmitri said, "Will you please ask God and get back to me? I want to know where it is."

He is cute, to say the least.

There is a young man the same age as Cloud at our church, whose parents are high up in the clergy and very nice people. For a long time, Cloud has been asked by members of the church (adults) if she likes their son. She does-- he is handsome and seems very nice, but he hasn't noticed her and she has already thought about the problems associated with dating someone there, especially someone who is high profile and she told me that if he did notice her that she would not want to go out with him until they were in college where the church that we attend wouldn't be likely to know about it. I told her that she is very wise because, while the poeple in church are VERY nice, everyone would talk about them. She asked me why she has been asked by adults because she can't believe they might care about the romantic interests of two teenagers. I told her that churches are in the business of hatches, matches and dispatches and that is their job to hook you up and ready for you to be knocked up! She seems ready to handle it with humor which I appreciate.

I woke up to April!

I never understood why anyone discussed the weather at length but when it's as bizarre as ours, I think it needs to be discussed. It's been like this since I moved to Anchorage in 1980-- but every year I am shocked. Our weather is cold for a bit, then freezing our tails off cold for a bit longer, then it warms up and rains, then snows, then nosedives into cold weather again. It's just not fun. We have green grass sprouting right now, mud puddles in the yard, and it's no fun. You can't send the kids out to play in it because it's not snow boot weather-- snow boots get caked with mud, but rubber boots are too slick. (I'm not discussing, I'm complaining!)

My brain is shorting out on me. Forgive my sentence fragments. I'm doing school work with Calamity Jane singing and trying to play Honkey Tonk Angels on her guitar (she's not good yet) and Mudd banging on a drum and singing Twinkle Twinkle. Calamity is funny because she knows nothing small. No Home on the Range for this kid, she goes for imitating Dolly Parton and k.d. lang and the finest. . . oddly this is what her mother listens to! Starshine likes to clap to the music, and she actually keeps time pretty well. Mudd? He deliberately gets out of sync. He's funny, too.

Peaches is gone. She can't handle high school. She signed herself out the other day-- she is 18 and can do this. She has all the credits that she needs to graduate. My husband wants her to stick around, but she is being obnoxious and texting me at midnight saying that she won't be home. I don't know what she has here now. She wanted to take me out for coffee, but I am afraid I will say something hurtful. After she accused me of only wanting her around for her dad's money, I don't know what boundaries she has or what consideration she feels up to showing. Don't get mad-- just love them. I dealt with worse on internships.

Now we are in the next phase of parenting. Cloud is going into her high school soon, and Guy is entering middle school. The next 5 years will be about getting the younger set up and ready to launch as well as getting the tiny babies into reading and being active. We have an insane sporting season coming up and I am tying up my classes.

I am at a loss on what to do sans child support, but my husband says we'll make it. I can't work-- they get sick and need someone home with them. Child support is an issue, but it wasn't why I wanted my daughter home. She says she wants to make her own mistakes-- on that one, you just back off. "Ok, make'm."

At my Facebook, I have encountered the kids who lived on my street who I grew up with. They were my brother's friends, but they'd come home and I'd already be there and I'd be baking cookies or brownies. They are very, very successful and I felt silly telling them about what I am up to, but they razzed me and are more interested in my work with a volunteer radio station. They remember me stuttering and getting into speech and debate.

I was apparently in indirect Cupid for a marriage! It was funny as my parents were selling their house and at this point I was 21 or so and back home post divorce. A very articulate woman called and asked about the house and we connected over the phone—I really liked her and she liked me, too. Right before she came over, a smarmy guy called and asked if we’d be willing to sell to “Japs.” I was ticked because of his term and asked if he was trying to get me into legal trouble because it was illegal to discriminate, then I started talking really fast at him, using my words like stones and hopefully maimed him for a week! He was calling from some place in Vegas and was just smarmy. She showed up right after that and I was still FUMING. I told her why. She happened to be Black and I was like, “You are human! If the money is green, you qualify.”

She kissed my cheek and said, “This is the house I want to buy. Bring me the papers.” I told her that she had to see the flaws by law and besides, my dad would kill me if I let her sign without knowing so she followed me around and signed a promise to buy right there. She was looking at the paperwork while I canceled other appointments for that afternoon.

I called a friend who said, “Her husband is White. She’s faced discrimination.” I told my friend she was full of it (she was White and married to a Black man and EVERYTHING was a racial issue to her) and she said, “You were set up by the phone call—she wanted to see if you were friendly and you passed the test with an A+.”

Sure enough, that night she signed the actual papers and said, “I want you to see my family!” and showed us a photograph. I started laughing and told her what my friend had said. Well, she had faced discrimination. My ‘hood was all white, upper class, and they are upper class—but neighbors would make some snide remarks to my father later. Well, their daughter married my brother's best friend who lived next door! She is beautiful-- and this guy is so laid back and nice.

One of the other friends who contacted me was into economics and now teaches. His brother is a lawyer, another friend lives nearby and instead of balking when I teased him that I'd dump my kids at his place, he said he'd coach them! These are people who I used to ride bikes with late into the night and watch them play basketball (my eye-hand coordination is nonexistent due to my vision) and they played sports with my baby brother. The brothers gave me a clock for my first wedding. The clock is long gone but I have replaced it and it is still "the clock that ___ and ___ gave me." I have thought of them all often in the past 15 years, but that clock made me think of those two in particular a lot.

The other day I received a note from a prof whose class I'd highlighted in my paper. She'd prayed for 10 students-- she got 18 signed up for her class, thanks to my help. She is a really wonderful person and she is very gifted-- I'm very happy that so many took the class!

I went with my church to the prison this past week. I'd been thinking of one of our ladies from Kairos and a lady knew her and let me know that she is in The Hole-- solitary confinement. They are put into a room alone with just a Bible.How the Hell does anyone read a Bible? Without understanding it is impossible and just words. She deserves to be there, but how they do the solitary confinement doesn't help the person out. Who decides how long they be there? They don't have any set guidelines as far as anyone knows-- it creates a psychological mess for the person.

I feel like a catalyst-- I don't know how long I will stay with my church group. Too many of us makes us too eager to talk to offenders. At the same time, if I am on a rotation I can't commit because I have other things to do. Still, I get with things, connect situations like getting my church into the prison, and then seem to need to move on.

Raining and Pouring

Last week I was in near tears because my team of writers was getting nothing to me. Of course I had other things to do and saw it as a blessing but I thought I'd also get cut as editor. Three hours ago I had 10 articles in my mail box. :) I am a busy lady!

My husband came home at 2AM today. It was good to see him but he left 75 weather and returned to 6" of snow. Instead of spending the day relaxing, we ran cars places and had things to do. I am not complaining; we had the money for it. He wasn't as thrilled with out bedroom. I did so much work and he said it was a nice start. I'm not mad, btu I was a little sad.

Church irritated me yesterday. Look, I don't get into Jesus in the Protestant way, OK? Yesterday my Orthodox liturgy was all about the parable of the seed that either blows away, takes root, or doesn't bear fruit. It went into going off about hell awaiting the sinner who doesn't accept Jesus. I have a problem with it. With how hard life is and all the troubles people have, expecting them to accept Jesus when presented with it,then all the hassle of dealing with people once you are in a church, I don't think that a loving god is like that. I don't mean to live a hedonistic life and not try to live a life filled with caring, but when you doubt your faith and just love one another, care for your neighbor-- why isn't this enough? (I am not interested in a religious discussion here with Evangelicals. I can't agree with what was spoken about.) This seemed to be a more Evangelical leaning sermon.My experience with Orthodoxy has always been that we didn't concern ourselves with Heaven or Hell but on what we are doing in the present moment and pleasing our creator. My particular branch of Orthodoxy was born of a Charismatic church 30 years ago so it has it's roots there, and our priest comes from that tradition.

Art Class, Editing

The effort it takes for me to go to art class is amazing. I love drawing almost more than I love anything else. I go in and it is almost meditative. Except for one person. She is always saying something "sassy"-- but she's not funny. She makes cutting remarks to me and she irritates the hell out of me.

Yesterday in class, my teacher asked me to discuss my latest drawing. I said, "I need to take a thirty seconds to share a story about this." The teacher was being stupid and tried to be funny by yawning at me and looking at her watch. I told her that I needed to share my story so she wouldn't cut me off. The classmate turned to me as I tried to focus and said, "She is teasing you." I ignored her and moved away from her.

The classmate is always making some remark though. She doesn't seem to get on anyone else's nerves as far as I can tell, but I doubt that anyone can tell how much she annoys me. When she makes her remarks to me she subtly pushes her chest out which is a sign of aggression. She is always saying things to sound "smart" and seems to like to stand near me during critiques. When I told a friend about this, he asked if I am doing well in the class and if she has kids. Yes on both-- he said, "There is your problem. She's singling you out. She's grating on you and she knows it. You are good, you have kids, she is seeing you as someone to work."

As I listened to her talk while we were doing our class assignment (that is so fucking annoying while people talk from across the room to each other about something inane) I realized her sense of entitlement. Our lone guy was telling her how he was with his brother at some restaurant and got a free meal because they didn't cook his burger. As he told his story, I thought, "She is going to say that she gets things for free."

As it turned out, she said, "I get things free all the time. I'm sensitive and they have to make things special for me." I wanted to say that surely she doesn't accept food free from restaurants where they make their living preparing food for people, but I don't like to talk to her so I said nothing. As she conversed, everything was, "I get that too!" "That happens to me, too!" Only it supposedly happened more often and worse to her, whatever was being spoken about.

I suppose that there will always be people that I do not like. I kept thinking of my ex's wife during a court battle that lasted for three years and how I never let on that she was getting to me.

For my assignment-- I had to do perspective. I drew my church for the assignment. I don’t go to church very often. The night before last I wanted to quit my art classes and slide through, not really putting any more effort into the classes—they cost money and time and I am short on both. My husband said that Art is necessary, that it allows us to express ourselves and to relate to our environment and that other people can relate to this. He had me get that picture and I was amazed by what he read from it. I sketched him prostrating to the Theotokos (the Mother of God) while Boom-Boom lit a candle to St. Basil, and a mother who looks a lot like me with several children around her and hanging off of her and she was standing near a side wall with six icons looking on. He pointed out to me that the man was engaged in honoring Mary, that Boom-Boom was meditating to St. Basil and the mother figure was dazed and not really there, but the saints seemed to be looking at her. He said it spoke volumes on my mental state about church, not to mention how pretty the church is. I need to learn to draw with light but this may turn into something fantastic that I will enter in an art show later this year.

I may be up for editing my college newspaper next year. That was exciting news. I have two stories coming out in the next edition. I spoke to a "real life reporter" who comes in from the local paper to run ideas with us and I told him about my other class in writing that is driving me batshiat crazy. I told him that I wanted to swear off adjectives and he told me to not use adjectives but to use quotes from people and let those color my articles.

The newspaper adviser got his Ph.D. in technical writing and has advised me to go into it. It pays well so I may take a class in that.