I Make Me Sick Sometimes.....

Way back in the dark ages, before we had blogs in which to spill our guts and bore the world, I went through periods in which I kept a journal. I kept a diary as a young girl, until I found out that it could be used against me.

In my adult life, every now and then I would go through a spell where I regretted not having kept a journal all my life, and I would start with great fervor and then run out of steam. If you had asked me how many journals I had filled completely, I would have said at most two, if you added them all up.

In my cleaning up/out these past two weeks, though, I came across no fewer than six journals. I picked them up and started reading some entries at random.

And then I went to throw up.

Not only because it brought back memories of a bitter, bitter time in my life, but because I expressed my bitterness in such a nauseating fashion. I remember some of my compulsions when I was writing in those journals. For one, I made myself fill a page every night. And I tried to find something positive every day, even if it was a struggle. So EVERY. SINGLE. PAGE. has a smiley face on it somewhere.

A smiley face.

I HATE smiley faces.

I have felt compelled to hold on to these journals, but for the life of me I can't figure out why. It's not like I'm going to leave them to Sweet Girl for posterity. She doesn't want to relive those days any more than I do. (On the other hand, they might serve to show her that I didn't MEAN to be a bad parent; I just didn't know what the hell I was doing.)

As soon as we crank up the wood stove this fall/winter, I'm going to burn those journals. I don't want anyone who knows me ever to read them, and I don't want to read them again myself. If I have to see another smiley face, I MAY throw up.

Oddly enough, though, I don't hate going back and rereading some of my blog entries. I was thinking about that fact today, trying to figure out why. I think it's because the intended audience differs between the two. When I wrote in a journal, I didn't expect that anyone else would ever read it. In most cases I HOPED no one would ever read what I wrote. It was just an opportunity for me to vent, to vomit my emotions, as it were.

But blogging is a different medium. I write FOR an audience, small though it may be, in addition to expressing my emotions/thoughts/philosophies/drivel. There are some topics I stay away from because former students and at least one middle school child have been known to read my blog. I would hate not to be able to look them in the face again. Note that I don't mind, however, throwing in occasional profanity and references to alcohol.

I have morals, they just don't always apply.

All in all, I much prefer blogging than journaling. I'm sure there will be some entries I would like to forget, and that's what the "Delete" key is for. Overall I hope that I won't reread my entire blog someday and stick my finger down my throat.

If you'll excuse me now, I have some journals to burn.

Changing Priorities.....

It's funny (not in a ha-ha way, more like in an ironic way) how random, seemingly unconnected things can work together to make me change how I look at my priorities.

A couple of weeks ago, I was disappointed that I couldn't order my new bicycle yet. I have saved up and stashed away cash for many months, and I decided to spend it on a new bicycle. A bicycle that costs about the same as my first new CAR cost back in 1978. The only thing that kept me from ordering the bicycle is that there are no more 2010's, and the 2011's haven't come out yet.

I was also determined that this time next year I would have season football tickets. That means a minimum of $2000 in donations, PLUS the cost of the tickets, and even then you aren't guaranteed to get the tickets. (They will grudgingly refund your donations in that case if you make a stink about it.) Three years ago the MINIMUM contribution to get first-time season tickets was $10,000. That's TEN THOUSAND dollars. But then the economy went south, the football team disappointed, and folks gave up their tickets. Two years ago the minimum was $4,500, last year it fell to $1,500. I decided I could sock away all the money I earn in my part-time virtual job, thus justifying the expense. At least in my own mind.

I don't know why I stubbornly cling to the idea that I need to have season tickets. I love the games, but they are almost all on television, and going to them in person isn't worth the hassle. Well, it hasn't been, but now we have an RV, so it could be a different story..... Still, I think the IDEA of having tickets is more appealing to me than actually going every week.

Then "we" got this harebrained innovative idea to turn our 3-bedroom house into a 2-bedroom house, and "we" instituted a new rule that we have to get rid of two things for every new thing we bring into the house. No fair counting all the junk we've already disposed of either.

And THEN I had a heart-stopping job scare last week, thinking I may be out of my teaching job in May, or possibly even December, and my priorities changed considerably.

That part-time money suddenly took on a larger significance. I even began to regret venting to one of my online bosses when I ran into her at the "Y" in our town last week. (What are the odds that we would have teachers and administrators all over the state, a couple who live out of state, and at least one who lives in a different COUNTRY, and I would have a membership at the same "Y" as one of the administrators?)

I knew it was serious when I threw away my Land's End catalog at school the other day without ordering a single thing.

I got my regular email from Amazon letting me know the 10 best deals in electronics this week. Gadgets are likely my greatest weakness. (Is that an oxymoron?) I deleted the email without reading it.

So I'm feeling all proud of myself for getting rid of a lot of unnecessary stuff and saving money (even if it's only in my head for right now).

The bicycle?

Yeah, I'm still planning to get that. I'll only be reasonable up to a point.

What a Difference a Decade Makes.....

In my last divorce, I lost custody of all my books.

I didn't mean to, and I wouldn't have left them voluntarily. But I moved out in quite a hurry, and I moved into a little bitty duplex. I didn't have room for the books, much less the bookcase they were shelved on.

My father made the bookcase for me, and it fit the house we lived in perfectly. It was probably 15 or 16 feet long and 8 feet high. And I had it crammed full of books. Arranged alphabetically by author's last name, of course.

After our sudden separation, when my ex was convinced he could win me back, he told me not to worry about the books. He said they weren't bothering anything and I could leave them there as long as I wanted. He really, really thought I would be coming back to them. I mean him.

On the day our divorce was final, however, he changed his tune. It may have been because he was embarrassed that he missed the hearing because he didn't show up on time. It may have been because that's the first time he realized I wasn't, indeed, coming back to him.

But he came by the duplex where I was living to tell me that I couldn't keep the life insurance policy I had on him, according to his lawyer. (I responded initially by saying she needed to stick to law and leave life insurance to those who knew how it worked. When he kept insisting, I finally told him if I didn't get one penny, it would be benefit enough if he just WOULD die. I'm still paying faithfully on that policy.) I knew he wanted to pick a fight, but I couldn't NOT mention my books again. I was terrified that he would burn them.

"Read your divorce agreement," he said. "Property has been divided."

I grieved over the loss of those books. Losing my books was much more devastating than the death of the marriage. For months I grieved. Even after Hubby and I married (which I'm guessing didn't help matters either), I plotted and schemed for ways to get those books back. I thought about appealing to the girl he took up with next. Ironically, she and I had been best friends in the sixth grade. (I told you it's a small town.) I even considered offering to buy the books. That already belonged to me. I was that desperate.

I won't go into all the details, but eventually he brought a couple boxes of books and gave them to Hubby and me when we saw him out somewhere. It wasn't nearly everything, of course, but they did include The Complete Works of Shakespeare, which my grandmother had given to me upon my high school graduation, and my wedding pictures. I didn't want the wedding pictures, but I figured Sweet Girl might want them some day.

Hubby and Katydid and Nurse Jane all assured me that one day I would get over the loss of my precious books. I thought they were crazy.

Over the years Hubby and I have been married, I have accumulated a new collection of books. Our house has two built-in bookcases approximately the same size as the bookcase I left behind, and there is no more room on the shelves.

Well, there wasn't until today.

Once I get started, I'm ruthless.

One of the neighborhood charities comes around about once a month. They specifically ask for clothing, blankets, small appliances, and books.

Books.

I spent today boxing up most of our books for donation, and I didn't feel a twinge of regret. Some of them are excellent books, but the likelihood that I'll ever read them again is almost nonexistent.

I kept a few books, including an academic volume which includes a chapter I wrote myself and always forget about including on my resume, a book of poetry that Hubby gave me for Valentine's Day one year and wrote a sweet message in the front of, and of course the Shakespeare.

What I can't understand is why I kept the cookbooks. Those should have been the first to go.

Busy Day......

We were up at 6:30 this morning to get started on the work that had to be done on the upstairs before other work can be done.

The bedroom suit that Hubby bought is so big that we had to move the air conditioner vents so they wouldn't be covered up. To do that we had to clean out the center of the room.

I found a taker for the L-shaped computer desk, and I told the woman she could pick it up on Monday. If I had known we would have it emptied out by 10:00 this morning, I would have told them to come today.

Once the duct work is finished, Hubby and his friend are going to paint. Then the new carpet will be put in, and only after all that is accomplished can we actually have the bedroom suit delivered. I'm relieved that Hubby has decided to hire a professional moving company to bring it; if I have to lift my end of one more heavy piece of furniture, I'm going to protest. Loudly.

Today wasn't ALL work, though. I was allowed to take time out to watch the football game (just try to stop me), read a little bit, play the Nintendo, and work on my quilt. I have started again on my cathedral window quilt, and I'd like to finish it this winter. That's quite a lofty goal, and whether or not I reach it may depend upon how much I also crochet. I find crocheting much more relaxing.

My reward for all this work is that sometime this weekend I fully intend to spend some time in the pool. It won't be long before that first leaf falls, and that's generally when Hubby covers it up. I wish every weekend could be a long weekend.

10,000 Reasons to Love Today......

• It's the beginning of a lovely long weekend.
• Our jobs are apparently safe because our new superintendent is apparently FULL. OF. IT.
• Renovations on our upstairs are proceeding. This time last week, that was NOT a good thing.
• I finally got to ride the Harley to school today.
• I made it through my blood donation this afternoon without passing out, in spite of the fact that I did not drink enough water today.
• I got completely caught up on my online grading today.
  
• Football season starts tomorrow. It actually started last night, but the team I care about plays for the first time tomorrow. At 12:21. What a stupid kick-off time.
• Baseball is still going on. That's one of the many reasons this is my favorite time of year.
  
• Temperatures are supposed to be slightly cooler this weekend, perhaps only in the 80's. We'll take it. That's another of the many reasons this is my favorite time of year.
• My mother-in-law, who spent last Saturday afternoon in the hospital with pneumonia (she talked them into letting her come home anyway), is feeling much better. In fact, when we went to dinner, she was gone in her car. That may not be such a good thing.
  
• I work with an awesome group of teachers. Mostly.
  
• Hubby is planning to stay home from the golf course tomorrow to assist with the renovations. Why did it take a hissy fit and an act of Congress last Saturday to get him to agree to the same thing? Oops, sorry, these are supposed to be positive things.
  
• Gus is feeling better. When we went to the park to walk yesterday afternoon, Hubby had to turn around and bring him home. Libby and I continued our walk. We think when Libby jumped out of the bed of the truck, she might have landed on little old Gusman and hurt his leg or his back.
  
• I'm not going to make you read all 10,000 reasons.
  

I'm Not a Quitter, I Just Change My Mind......

I have my blog pal Lilith to thank for this decision, and thus this blog post.

Once I registered to take the gymnastics judges' test on September 11th, I got busy studying. I made flash cards, I wrote down combinations and series and point deductions, I memorized (or tried to) additive values of elements and their order, I took practice test after practice test.

And I still didn't feel ready for the test.

I told myself I have to be AT LEAST as smart as some of the people judging, I have a doctorate, so I should be able to learn anything, and yet the whole issue of judging lost some of its appeal.

When I registered for the test, I figured that would sort of force my own hand about taking the test. But it was only $20, so it's not like it's the biggest sum I've ever wasted, so that wasn't a whole lot of pressure.

Then I started asking myself if I really wanted to judge if I DID pass the test.

Do I really want to give up every Saturday (or entire weekend) to judge Level 5-6 gymnastics?

Do I really want to see the exact same routines, hear the exact same music every single weekend?

Do I really want to get involved in the lives of tiny little gymnasts.....and their mamas?

Do I really want to drive 2 hours to take the test on a UGA football Saturday?

I realized that the natural goal, which should have been to start with Level 5-6 and progress up to Level 10 or even Elite, wasn't something I really wanted to pursue. Perhaps if I had started when I was 30, it might have made sense. However, studying for this test has taken something I absolutely LOVE and turned it into a chore. Even if I were really, really good and progressed up the ladder enough to judge NCAA gymnastics, I wouldn't be able to judge UGA because I'm an alumnus and a donor. Not an organ donor, a financial donor. And if I can't watch my beloved Gym Dogs, what the heck is the point?

So I have decided NOT to take the test, and it has taken a load off my mind. Sure I wasted a little money joining the national governing organization and taking the safety course and buying the compulsory manuals. But I didn't buy the stylish (?) navy blue blazer and slacks, and I didn't join the women judges' organization.

I feel much, much better having decided not to pursue this judging thing. I don't think I'll regret it, but if I do, there will be another opportunity to take the test.

If this all sounds like justification for not attempting something I might not be able to do, it may very well be.

But I'm going on 50 years old, and I'm way past doing things I don't want to do. So there.

Topsy Turvy Day.....

This was a perfectly normal day until about 5:15, when one of my co-workers called. According to our local paper (the real one, not the one with the entertaining police blotter), our program is moving. In December. Along with the alternative school program that is housed in the other part of our building.

To a location that cannot accommodate either program, let alone both of them. A location that has no parking, two classrooms, no gym for the alternative school to teach P.E., no computer access (at least to the degree our program requires). It probably won't pass fire codes.

What the hell is going on?

We think it spells doom for our program. We just don't know if the axe is going to fall in May at the end of the school year.

Or in December.

Holy crap.

I don't hate it so much for myself. If I have to retire early, I'll take a hit, but it won't be devastating. I won't be able to afford nearly as many toys and vacations probably won't be to Jamaica, but we won't go hungry or naked.

But what about my co-workers? What about the one whose husband wants to retire in a couple of years? What about the one who has just started on her Ph.D.? What about the one who not only is just starting his specialist program, but so is his wife?

What about our kids? Our students, who come to us because they don't feel they can survive in the traditional high school?

This all came out at the board meeting last night, and it hit the paper this afternoon.

Wonder why that's where we had to hear about it?