Sport of Champions... and rednecks

So today Riley and I GPS'ed a Frisbee Golf course at Will Rogers Park in good ol' OKC. Wow! A whole world has opened up to me that I never knew existed! I tried to pay close attention so that maybe someday I may be accepted into this amazing sport. Here are some things you will and will not need if you decide to take up frisbee golf:

Must Have:
-Beer- must be canned, the park doesn't allow bottled beer, so you are guaranteed to have something cheap and crappy (my apologies to those of you who enjoy a good Natural Light).
-Cigarettes- you can actually hold a frisbee in one hand while keeping your cig lit in the other.
-Tattoos- you may be hurling a small round piece of plastic through the air, but no one will make fun of you cuz you've got all those cool tats!
-A bag to carry your frisbees. A true frisbee golfer has multiple frisbees so you will need something to carry them in. If you are really ghetto you can just use a Walmart sack. If you are hard core you have a special carrying case complete with backpack-esque strap and multiple pockets for your beer (though if you run out of the beer never fear, there is a gas station across the street from hole 12 where you can restock before moving on to 13)
-A severe twang- 'nuf said

Not necessary:
-A shirt- you're out in the great outdoors! If you got it, flaunt it!
-Proper grammar- screw your sixth grade English teacher, double negatives just sound better!
-A trash receptacle- If you have trash, just leave it on the ground with the rest of the beer cans and plastic bags, who needs wildlife?

And just in case you are wondering what one wears while frisbee golfing, here are a few tips. Ladies, even though you are doing something active, there is no need for sweatpants or spandex tops. Just wear some jeans and whatever top you usually wear (tight, low-cut, and midriff are all okay, also feel free to wear anything that salutes Harley Davidson). Guys, anything goes. Just pull something out of the bottom of your hamper, no one will smell you, you are outside!

Now, I should probably make one of those statements about the views stated in this post do not necessarily reflect the stance of everyone at this site or our supporters... you get the picture. So if you are an avid frisbee golfer and are slightly offended by my color commentary of my experience, please realize that this may be specific to the area I was in, it may just have depended on who was off work that day, and the fact that most of the good folks out there were very friendly and could easily have kicked my butt at frisbee golf.

So if you find yourself with some time on your hands and the weather is nice but you don't have the cash to go real golfing, just grab yourself a frisbee and a Bud and try your hand at this exciting past time.

Ang

The Holidays...desert style.

I am not sure if I love the week after Christmas, or hate it with my whole heart. It's one part exciting because of the coming New Year with all of its possibilities for self-improvement, (not to mention the fact that New Years is the one holiday that greatly increases the chances of us poor single souls getting some lip action.) But it's also one part incredibly sad because Christmas lights and decorations come down, people go back to work and holiday spirit takes a nose dive. Either way, this week is unavoidable so instead of dwelling on my mixed feelings, I will relive holiday happenings here in Arizona.

The last week before school was surprisingly pretty fun! My kids were really well behaved compared to last year. Our Christmas party went off without a hitch including ice cream cone Christmas trees and hand painted ornaments for my kids (puff paint rocks my face). I didn't waste any time after school was over though. Bright and early Saturday morning myself and 5 other girls loaded up and headed to the happiest place on Earth for a girls getaway!

If there were ever a place to get you in the holiday spirit, it is Disneyland. We had an absolute blast and took many a cliche silly face picture to prove it. My highlight was getting the super cute guy working at the Monsters Inc. ride to take our picture. I almost went back to take a picture of him, but alas he had moved on to bigger and better things...perhaps the Jungle Cruise? Our day at the Magic Kingdom ended far too quickly but it as totally worth it and I hope it becomes a tradition. We came home just in time to do some last minute shopping for the parents and to gear up for Christmas.

Christmas day was divine. We woke up at about 9:30, sat and chatted around the digital Yule Log on TV complete with crackling noises to make it feel authentic, finally decided to open presents, and then hung around until an afternoon movie. I love my family dearly, but it was fantastic to just sit and do nothing all day! Some notable presents included: a heated blanket (for those freezing 60 degree cold fronts that come through AZ), a bunch of great movies, gift certificates, and a hotel style bathrobe that is so fantastic I'm pretty sure my parents snuck into the Hilton and stole it from Paris herself.

So here I am a few days before New Years blogging trying to avoid the looming report cards that are piled up on my desk. I am excited for 2009...who knows what fun blog-worthy things it might bring.

So...Adios 2008, and Bonjour 2009! (Didn't you hear? 2009 is the year I become tri-lingual.)

-Kare

Wii!!!

So the last few days have been spent discovering the joys of our new Wii. There are just so many possibilities!!! You can "work out" on the Wii fit (don't knock it 'til you try it), search for the Ark of the Covenant on LEGO Indiana Jones, get Wii-bow playing Wii tennis, snowboard with Shawn White, or just sitting around making various celibrities and friends into "mii's" (we already have my whole family, Jack Sparrow, Hannah Montana, Mr. T, Harry Potter, Snape, and our favorite, Michael Jackson). You have to be careful though, Wii-ing is not for the faint of heart. For example, if you create a profile on the Wii fit you have to be willing to proclaim your age and weight. And if you register as "overweight" your mii is given a rather protrusive gut. Then if your electronic trainer thinks your athletic performance is not up to snuff, you only get one (out of four) stars and are labeled things like "couch potato". I try not to take offense, but you really have to take your confidence pill before you begin.

But even though it is enjoyable to sit by yourself and waste your time pointing a white piece of plastic at your TV (or hurling it at your TV if you aren't careful, I would highly encourage the use of the wrist strap), it is way more fun to do it in a group. I have had many a belly laugh watching my family try to figure out the complex inner workings of the latest in gamer technology.

Here is dad snowboarding

Riley is showing us how he can mimic the picture on the game.

Of course if you are tired of staring at your TV, you can enjoy your Wii just by talking to your friends about it. You can tell your friends you "spent all afternoon playing with my Wii" and they can snicker quietly to themselves. Or you can enjoy your friends' reactions when you ask them if they would like to come play with your Wii. You may even find a good place to throw in a "That's what she said". And yes, we do still have the mind of a middle-schooler.

Oh, and here is a cute Christmas picture of Riley and I.

Ang

Christmas etc...

I know I have been a blogging bum lately so I will at least list some things that have gone on recently.

1. School is over. The last day of school before the break was surprisingly peaceful and relaxing. I gave each of my students a clipboard with their name on it. They were thrilled. Why is it that kids can have every elecronic gadget known to man and yet be tickled pink over a clipboard? I don't know. Anyway, the day was good. Tessa joined me during the afternoon and was asked for her autograph on many of the clipboards.
2. We are now the proud owners of a Nintendo Wii. Riley found one at Walmart and was ecstatic. We then came across a mom at school who had an extra Wii Fit that she sold us so now we are all set to go. We are also rather sore. The Wii controllers activate all kinds of previously unused muscles. For example, I did some lunges on the Wii Fit and now I have almost been reduced to a limp on my right leg. My quad is so sore I almost feel as if I have pulled something. Oh well. At least I am exercising. My parentals and sister came over to play on it the other night and now they have purchased one of their own.
3. Our heater is on the fritz. The last few weeks it has had a hard time keeping up with any sort of drop in temperature. Our last electric bill was double what is usually is due to our heater running constantly. Then about a week ago we started waking up to temperatures in the 50's (inside our house). This made it rather difficult to get up in the morning. During the day the temperature would gradually inch its way up to 67 but that was it. Then Tuesday evening I got home to find the temperature at a balmy 48 degrees. Not acceptable. No more denial, our heater is broken! We finally just turned off the "heater" since it was blowing out cold air, giving our borrowed space heaters a chance to catch up and our house is now almost in the seventies. Hooray!
4. I am tired of writing and I have a headache from watching the LEGO Indianna Jones on our new Wii game jump all over the place. Must go now.

Ang

You know it

Spelling bee

Just thought I would share my tear-jerker moment of the day. Every once in a while you have one of those moments that just makes you feel good about what you do, and this was one of those instances. Thursday we had our class spelling bee. The first and second place winners qualify for the fifth grade spelling bee in January. The third place winner is the runner-up. So we started our spelling bee and the first couple of rounds go well. I would also like to mention that I have an autistic child in my class this year. He gives me some extra challenges and makes me smile quite a bit. He is very high-funtioning but the other kids help him with things like staying on the correct page, understanding directions to our class work, knowing where I asked him to stand in line, etc. Well, this child survives the first few rounds of the spelling bee, which shocked me a little, and every time he got a word right the rest of the class cheered loudly for him and some even walked across the room to give him a high-five. About the fourth round I realized that he was close to being a finalist. He ended up one of the last three kids "alive" and I wasn't really sure what to think. Long story short: my autistic student placed second, qualifying for the fifth grade bee in January. My class went wild. They were cheering and high-fiving all over the place. They told him that he got to go to the fifth grade bee so he got up and started walking towards the door. They quickly explained that the spelling bee wasn't until January. I discovered later that the boy sitting next to him even wrote a note in his agenda for him telling his parents what had happened so they would understand. I almost cried. Maybe teaching is really worth the effort.

I love my job.

Okay, okay...I know I'm a bad blogger. Poor Ang has been holding this thing up on her own. Sorry friend, I'll try to do better.

But I did finally find something I felt was blog-worthy. This week we had to do a school-wide writing prompt. I found this jewel of a response and just had to share. This is why I love my job.


Tell about a time when you did something exciting:

Joey Age 10
An exciting time is when we found out that our dog Oreo was having puppies.
Did you know it takes 4 months for a dog to have puppies? I sure didn't. I thought dogs had puppies just like humans. I thought it took 9 months for a dog to have puppies. Well 3 months later Oreo started puking on everybody's bed and floor. A week later she kept falling down and couldn't get up. It happened to her every day.
One afternoon when we came home from school we heard a dog scream. We ran into my brothers room and there was Oreo, she was screaming her lungs off! She was having puppies. She was screaming because it was her first time having puppies. After she was done having puppies she ate the after birth. It was disgusting but she needed to eat it for her fiber.


Who knew that afterbirth was such a good source of fiber! :)

-Kare

Rock Star

For those of you who are connected to my bi-monthly twitter updates, you are aware that I got to go to a Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert last night. Totally amazing, I was (for the third time) blown away by the whole spectacle. What really entertained me was the style of all the performers. They were inhumanly talented as well as… well… cool! I made careful observations and here is what I have gathered for those of you who would like to be just like them someday.
If you want to be a rock star:
1. You must be beyond-fantastic in your field: instrumental or vocal. We are talking major virtuoso here.
2. You must have lusciously long hair that is styled in such a way that it will cascade down your shoulders and in front of your face at the slightest movement of your head, and then throw itself back into place with the easiest of head jerks. This goes for both men and women. (*WARNING! When trying this at home, be sure to stretch first so you don’t start your rock star career at the chiropractor).
3. Assume the rock stance: feet double shoulder width apart (slightly less if you are a girl), one forward and one in back so as to stabilize yourself since all the hair flicking and general rocking may throw you off-balance.
4. Begin to play, rocking back and forth to a slow rhythmic beat while effortlessly tossing your mane in a seductive kind of way.
5. Move around a lot. It’s a big stage, don’t be afraid to visit every part of it. Also be sure to visit your other musician friends on stage so you can rock together.
6. When rocking with another musician onstage, stand back to back and hold your instrument higher than normal while you play.
7. When standing near the edge of the crowd, point your finger, bow, or entire instrument at the crowd nearest you so as to achieve a higher level of noise and excitement.
8. For optimal cool points, you must be raised into the air or lowered from some high point somewhere in the show. Be sure to give yourself a solid rock stance to maintain balance, and don’t forget to keep flipping your hair around.
9. Wardrobe: Good rockers are well dressed. Men must wear a classic black suit complete with tails, and women must squeeze themselves into some sort of black stretch fabric. If you are concerned about unsightly curves, just pull your skirt up shorter or let that neckline plunge, no one will be looking anywhere else.
10. Finally, be prepared to endure extreme conditions: seizure-inducing strobe lights, tongues of fire, brain-rattling sound… a true rocker will take it all in stride.
-Ang

smurf muffins

Aw the joys of being a teacher. Not only do I get all major holidays(and some minor ones) off, I also get to spread my creative wings and make some really weird things. For example, my cousin, the geologist (yea rocks!), came into town for Thanksgiving and I jumped at the chance to slack off... I mean offer my students an engaging scholastic experience. I suggested to Cori that she should come talk to my class about something rocky, and she agreed (really I just don't think she had any better plans). That is how we came to be giggling hysterically in my parents' kitchen late Monday night while glopping color-enhanced muffin mix into over-full muffin pans, while Alli (other cousin) begged us to hurry so she could go to bed. Our goal was to make muffins that had different-colored layers inside so the kids could shove clear straws into them, pull them out, then use these "core samples" to guess what the inside of the muffins looked like. It worked pretty well except the kids kept getting berries in their samples. Hooray for fifth grade!

-Ang

Motivation

It is a Saturday morning and I awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed at about quarter til nine. I have a long list of things to do today and was excited to get going. Riley and I checked "getting the bugs out of the living room light fixture" off our list and we were rarin' to go. He set off on his adventures, and I headed to my parents' house to start our laundry (which we haven't done in two weeks). THat's as far as I have gotten. I got to chatting, then mom signed me up for twitter, then I discovered the holiday issue of Real Simple magazine, then dad went to pick up pizza. And now I am blogging. Maybe the afternoon will bring more results than my morning.

Ang

Unpacking...

The past 2 years have been some major transitional times for me. I mean the chop your hair off, dye it basically black, change your entire wardrobe and get a tattoo just so you can feel different than you did 3 months ago kind of transition. (Although I did opt out of the tattoo) Lately though, I’ve been reflecting on where I’ve come from and where I’m going and surprisingly enough, I’ve been incredibly happy! I’ve finally made it. I am the new woman I wanted to be and things are fabulous. Or so I thought... For the past couple of Sundays at church our Pastor has been mentioning over and over again the idea of ‘unpacking’ things. Unpacking those things you reeeeeaaaalllly don’t want to unpack. Revealing, analyzing, and examining those parts of yourself you’ve either denied actually exist or refuse to acknowledge even though they are staring you straight in the face.

Yesterday I was digging through my closet and I found a journal from about 4 years back. I made the major mistake of opening it up and reading it thinking, ‘Awesome! now I can see how far I’ve really come right?’ Wrong. I found nothing but page after page of the same thing I struggled with two years ago, and the same thing I am struggling with today. Am I destined to relive the same mistakes over and over again? Did I learn nothing since then? Will my ‘house’ ever be fully unpacked and put away neatly? It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was on my way to a dear friend’s house to get some hot chocolate and have some good girl time and I started crying like a fool on the drive over. When I finally got up the courage to spill my guts again to her, she was (as she always is) an incredible encouragement. She helped me realize a few things.

1) We all have issues! And we will always be unpacking and revealing those parts of ourselves we consider ugly, bruised, and broken to God so that He can make them beautiful, healed and restored.

2) I am fabulous and I deserve only the best. I should never settle for anything less than God’s intended plan and I should never sell myself short.
And finally...
3) The fact that I even recognize that I’ve still got issues to unpack, means there’s already one empty suitcase that has been cleaned out and is sitting to the side. Thank you Syd, you are a blessing. xoxo

So, where does that leave me? Scared, excited, nervous, confused, confidant….all of the above. I still don’t quite know what all of this is going to mean, but I am at least willing to look into it. Who knows, maybe unloading a few pieces of baggage will be good for me and perhaps I’ll find a cute pair of shoes I had forgotten I even had. :)

-Kare

Chai Latte

I am feeling very grown up right now. I am feeling a bit under the weather this weekend, and I woke up from my nap today to discover that my throat was hurting. Crap. So I took a shower and decided to find something hot to drink. I am currently lacking in the tea department, hate coffee, and didn't even have any hot chocolate to speak of. I did, however, have some chai latte mix. I thought that milk might be nicer than water, so I heated some milk, mixed in the chai mix, and am now happily sipping on something that has the smoothness of milk and the cinnamon of chai. I feel very sophisticated.

-Ang

Invincible

Alas, I am not invincible. My immune system has failed me. I finally got the antibacterial wipes out and had the kids wipe all the germs off their desks, but not until it was too late. Now my nose is running, my head hurts, and I have decided I dislike children.

-Ang

barking

My class barks! Seriously!!! They go outside, play for a while, come back in tired and out of breath, and a chorus of barking coughing follows. At times I find myself in the midst of a virtual cacophany of hacking, rumbling, and all varieties of lung-rattling activity. Do people still get whooping cough? 'Cuz that's what it sounds like. When I am teaching I have to talk really fast until someone strikes up the chorus and they all join in. It's like they hear one kid do it and then they think, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that tickle in my throat", and go at it. Am I going to die of some terrible airborne virus? Maybe I should wear a mask to school. I had a professor in college that wore a mask whenever she was outside. She was wierd. Anyhow... I hope they get better soon or pretty soon it will be like teaching in a kennel.

-Ang

October 31...the good girl's excuse to do things her mother usually wouldn't approve of.

Yes, it is officially November and the frightful day of October 31st has come and gone. Last year my Halloween consisted of stuffing the kids in my class full of candy, sending them on their merry way, then going home to an oh so exciting night of absolutely nothing. This year...not the case. Surprisingly enough this year was probably the most fun I have ever had on Halloween.

Following a fun-filled school day including pumpkin math and science centers, I proceeded to get ready for a sick dance party where a fabulous costume and my best dance moves were a must. I was a 60's gogo dancer. Now, I've never been one to go all out for a costume. But this year I happened to come upon a fantastic lime green dress and white knee-high platform boots. I lathered on the white eye-shadow, black eye liner, and frosted lip stick. I flipped out my hair, teased it to an ungodly height, and shellacked it with hairspray. With the help of my mother, I cut the calf length dress to a couple inches above the knee. It's not every day your own mother says, "No, I really think you need to go at least a couple inches shorter." Fantastic!

The dance party was insanely fun. There were all kinds of costumes including a human facebook page (with a wall everyone wrote on and everything!), an 80's rocker, Elvis, Dorothy, a smurf, Michael Phelps, a pregnant woman, ect. I knew I had done well with my costume when I walked in and heard, "Wait! What the freak? Is that Karen?!" Mission accomplished. We all danced the night way, doing dance moves that would have given my grandmother heart palpitations. But hey, it's Halloween so anything goes right? It's a pretty funny sight to see the youth pastor, his wife, the members of the worship band, and a several youth sponsors thrusting and dipping to censored versions of songs normally reserved for clubs on Mill Ave. But, it was all in good fun and the party went on until 2:00 AM so we must have been doing something right!

I would have to say the highlight of the night was when myself and three of my girlfriends secretly planned a dance to surprise everyone with. We added our song to the heavily guarded play list with James-Bond like stealth. When we knew our song was next we headed to the hallway until it was time to make our grand entrance. Then as Crank Dat by Soulja Boy started playing, a gogo dancer, an 80's rocker, a thug and a smurf made their way out to the dance floor and busted out the best performance of the super man dance you've ever seen. Cameras were flashing and people were clapping. It was amazing.

This Halloween I learned three things: I have fantastic friends, I love dance parties, and I look fabulous in gogo boots. :) Here are some pictures to give you an idea of how sweet it really was!

-Kare

Why gravity sucks (or pulls?)

Isaac Newton was right all along. Drop something, and it will be caught up by the earth's gravitational pull and plummet to the earth below. It is inevitable. So why do I think that I can ride off the side of a massive wooden teeter-totter on a bicycle and avoid the consequences induced by gravity? Twice!!! One word: pride. Kristy did it, so why can't I? I have been riding longer. I have done stuff like this before. Should be easy. Wrong. Lack of speed mixed with inability to ride in a straight line spells falling four to five feet onto the unforgiving Oklahoma ground. The first time wasn't too bad. Brief lack of wind, dirt on face, no biggy. I even hopped right back on and tried it again. I succeeded! I tried it again and succeeded again. Score: me-2, teeter-1. I win. However, after riding the cross-country trail and second time Rachel suggests we get video footage of the girls triumphantly conquering the double-teeter. Crap. Rachel does it- my turn. I pedal-pedal-pedal, ride up, wait for it to go down, lose speed, plummet to the ground... again. This time everyone is watching and the video camera is rolling. Convenient. Now anyone who wants to can watch me fall off a teeter totter while uttering a rather uncharacteristic choice word (which according to Andy rhymes with "shoot"). This time I have no oxygen left in my lungs and I lay on the ground grunting until my lungs can reinflate. My legs are bruised and battered, my shoulder is throbbing, my left forearm looks like someone threw a handful of glass shards at it, and my pride is no longer in the same zip code. Score: me-2, teeter- 2.

-Ang

Hippies and Hillbillies Part II

For those of you who were almost lulled into a comatose state by my last post, I will try to wrap it simply. Short and sweet. But just in case, maybe you should set aside a small chunk of time and maybe get some popcorn before you start.

So... in addition to the nylon suburbia and gun-shooting rednecks, there were also some campers on the other end of the spectrum. While looking for the end of a downhill bike trail we discovered a... commune?... of rather peaceful folk. There were probably ten or so of them sitting around the campfire... in the middle of the day. They had a small wall of fire wood, making it obvious that they may be there for a while. They were listening to some sort of chanting music and their faces were painted! Only one camper had full-face paint, the rest just had some beautification here and there. Nice people, but you had to ask yourself... is all that smoke coming from the campfire?

The last type of camper, the category we find ourselves in, is the green camper. When we moved into our campsite the first thing the boys did was pick up all the trash in the area. We had such a great time enjoying being outside. On Friday we started the day by exploring the cave. Now I have known for a while that I suffer from at least mild clostrophobia, but I have never tested my fear on any truly enclosed space. When we got to the entrance of the cave there were lots of people already there, standing around outside of the entrance. We turned on our headlamps and headed, not into a wide entrance to a cavern, but into a closet-door-sized hole in the wall. Apparently I had some misconceptions as to what caving would be like. There were not vast caverns, no stalagtites or mites, only a hallway-sized tomb that was packed full of families with small children. RUN!!!! I managed to contain my hyperventilation (though not my tears, yes, I am a wuss), and made it through about half the cave before Riley finally brought me to my senses and escorted me out. He took me out then requested permission to reenter the cave, so I then proceded to sit on the hill above the cave watching people go in and out for about forty-five minutes. I am proud to say, and a little envious, that they did not come out the entrance like everyone else, they had crawled all the way through and shimmied out the exit and came walking down the trail covered in mud, to the excitement of everyone sitting there. My day got better after lunch when we went on a hike and then settled in for the night. This was, of course, the hellish night of noise and booze, but we laugh about it now. I regained some of my studliness the next day when I road the rock-infested mountain bike trail.

All in all, a very satisfying trip. We had some laughs, got some exercise, and I even learned a little bit about myself. By the way, on our way out of the park we stopped to take a picture in front of the cave, and Riley handed me his headlamp and told me to just step in and see if I could conquer a little of my fear. I came out ten minutes later after going as far as I could inside the cave without having to crawl. There may be hope for me yet.

Hippies and Hillbillies

I am newly returned from my weekend sojourn and feel much better now that I am clean, though my legs are completely covered in chigger bites. For those of you who have never experienced a chigger, like perhaps you live in a desert, you have not felt an itch until you have had a colony of microscopic bugs devour your exposed skin (or sometimes your not-so-exposed skin). Our weekend was full of many memorable experiences, some of which I will try to share by describing different ways that people camp.

At one end of the spectrum you have those campers who really don't understand the point of camping. They have brought so much equipment and modern comforts with them that it takes their children a few hours to realize that they are not at home. These are the people who like to camp in the spots that are just a few feet from the people in the next site over. It's like someone created suburbia outdoors and used nylon instead of brick. They have brought the barbeque, the air mattresses, the kids' bikes; I even saw a few small trailers that were lined with shelves on the inside so that they could bring the entire contents of their pantry!!! Most of these people receive a roll of the eyes and a sigh that says "they just don't get it". However, some of these people can just be rude.

This leads me to the second group of campers. This group may not bring as many modern conveniences, but they make up for it with their thoughtlessness for the environment. Let me give you a few examples. We frequently drove past a friendly-looking suburban family who had set up camp right by the bathroom (talk about the smell of the great outdoors). They have the portable pantry/trailer and quite an elaborate site. We just shook our heads at them every time we passed until the last day, when we saw that someone had paintballed the side of the bathroom! Really?!? I know I am jumping to conclusions, but why would you give your kid a paintball gun while you are camping?!? The other example of this came our second night there. Let me backtrack a little. When we arrived at Devil's Den State Park in Arkansas on Thursday we were told that the campgrounds were booked to capacity for Friday and Saturday nights, so we could camp there Thursday, but we would have to relocate for Friday. They told us about a camping area just outside of the State Park boundry that we could try though they couldn't guarantee what kind of company we would find ourselves in there. So we thanked the nice ranger and headed to said campground: Cedar Flats (kind of like the Narrows in Gotham City?). The area was very conducive to camping and we found ourselves a spot that, after cleaning up quite a bit of trash, suited us quite nicely. Our neighbors seemed normal, except for the gunshots but I will get to that momentarily, and our first night was enjoyable. The second night was not so kind. A little after dark some new campers rolled in and settled a little farther into the woods. One group consisted of two father-son pairs who made a nice fire then turned in early. We liked them. Then the music started. At first it was kind of funny because it went from 80's rock to country to techno, but then it started to get old. We surmised that it must be someone's car stereo and we prayed that God's wrath would strike quickly and drain the car battery. We fantasized about our musical friends coming to ask for a jump the next day since they drained their battery the night before and laughing in their faces. As the night wore on and the bass only got louder, our amusement turned to wrath. How dare they ruin our camping trip! How will we sleep? Why come into nature if you are just going to bring the noise of home with you?!? You just enjoy sleeping on the ground? Riley decided to go ask them to turn it down and I joined, though I feared for our safety. What kind of people could they be? Dumb teenagers who came out here to drink? Someone violently drunk who will beat us senseless for asking that they end their party? Nope. A family with multiple children. We asked nicely (though the annoyed couple who came with us to storm the castle were slightly less polite) and they obliged, kind of. BUT THE NOISE DIDN'T STOP!!! I finally wussed out and decided that unconsciousness was preferrable to a tense situation and went to bed (typical). In the morning I discovered that Riley and Eric (we camped with him and his wife Kristy) had gone in search of the noise again and had discovered the offending sound was coming from a new campsite that was inhabited by some 16-year-old guys and their giggly girlfriends. Our boys puffed up their chests and sent the younglings scurrying for the volume control. End of problem.

The next category of camper is the Redneck/Hillbilly. When we moved into "The Flats" we found ourselves next to a large camp of... hunters? It was a large contingent of males who could easily have been there for days, weeks, months, years? (insert Friends themesong :). They had a rather sizeable community of tents and camping equipment and plenty of firearms, which they tested constantly. For those of you who know me, I hate loud noises, I just about pee my pants every time. The smaller guns weren't bad, but the shotgun was a little ridiculous. And they weren't even shooting AT anything!!! Seriously, bullets don't just grow on trees. Nothing like being awakened first thing in the morning to gunfire. The other redneck group pulled in the second day with three 4-wheelers, 2 dirt bikes, 1 beat-up truck on a trailer...and maybe a partrige in a pear tree. They then amused themselves by taking all of these vehicles out into the forrest. They almost ran us over as me rode our bikes peacefully down the dirt road. Who races down a dirt road on ATV's past people on BICYCLES?!? We thought we had seen the last of them when they packed up, but they returned after dark to set up camp and drink themselves silly. We listened to them talk about how drunk they were and play "I've never" until the wee hours of the morning (once the loud music finally went away). It was quite funny the next morning when we went by their campsite and saw the ground littered with bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade and Bud Lite with Lime. Is it even possible to get drunk from something with such a low alcohol content? What studs!

To be continued...

-Ang

Hi, my name is Karen and I'm a mother of 23.

So this past week has been parent-teacher conference week and I am on my last legs. Before actually having to do them, I never realized how incredibly exhausting they are! Having 23 conferences requires knowing tiny details about each child as if they were your only student. It requires quick thinking and wise word choice when there are some especially difficult parents. It requires coming up with creative compliments to soften the blow of a bad report card. (Your child is failing everything, but he/she certainly has wonderful handwriting....?) It takes all of that, TIMES 23!!

But really, it is emotionally and spiritually draining more than anything else. I've got kids who's parents are in jail, are workaholics, are alcoholics, have restraining orders, and who simply don't give a crap. I go home every night thinking about how I might have been the only positive influence in their lives that day, that week, that month, maybe even that year. (insert Friends theme song here) It makes me think twice about those words that I may have spoken too harshly, or that story that I didn't listen to because I thought there were more important things to do. A teacher's job is not just a job. It's a calling. Why God decided I would be a good fit for this calling is beyond me, but I know one thing....I've been blessed more than anyone can know by each of their precious faces and I wouldn't trade it for the world.


Enjoy your break Ang!!
-Kare

The Great Outdoors... Brrr

Man's oldest question: What is the meaning of life?
Man's second-oldest question: What to do with a 4-day weekend?
If you are my husband or any of his friends the answer is always right there in front of you: camping!!! I am about to embark on my second camping trip in a week and a half and I am... excited... but also bracing myself for the numbing cold. For some reason God saw fit to give me an internal body temperature of about 60 degrees, so I start pulling out the hoodies at a balmy 85. This week a cold front hit the Oklahoma area and when I came home from school yesterday our thermostat registered in at a whopping 59. Time to turn on the heat. Anyhow... we are headed out to the wild blue yonder for two and a half days of camping, hiking, biking, caving... maybe that Indiana Jones thing will work out after all. And yet the biggest worry in my mind is: what am I going to do when my hair gets oily? Seriously, 24 hours and my head is down for the count. And will there be bathrooms? I can squat with the best but not when you can feel the frost on the ground with your backside. Oh well, here's to adventure! We'll see how it goes. Have a good weekend Kare!

-Ang

The Pressure of the First Blog...

How to even begin...of course my lovely partner in crime here has to start off with a bang and be witty and clever her very first post. (Way to go Ang...) No pressure to match her well thought out connections and metaphors for the life and times of a teacher. Alas, I have no insightful metaphors at the moment, no humorous anecdotes. Just a tired brain at the end of a week of parent-teacher conferences. So, I guess thats it. At least I can say I lost my proverbial blogging virginity right? However, I gotta tell you...it's really wasn't as great as they all say.
But practice makes perfect yeah? :)

-Kare
ps. I need a sick Halloween costume for our 10/31 dance party. Any suggestions??

Double Life

Over the past two days I have found myself enjoying the newest Indiana Jones flick... twice.  It occurs to me that the famous Indiana Jones, the captain of adventure himself, has a lot in common with yours truly.  He is ("part time")... a teacher!!!  I regret to say that the similarities end there.  I don't understand any dead languages (though I'm conversational in at least one non-useful language), I would be terrible in a fist fight (I'm a "walk, talk, or rock" kind of gal), and if I was ever handed a whip I would never even touch it for fear it would make that loud cracking sound.  Maybe if I could just have his hat, that seems to be the source of his power.  I could wake up every weekday morning, go to school, teach kids the difference between a simple subject and a complete subject, try to entice them into learning about why Columbus sailed the ocean blue, assure them that walking in a quiet line is a life skill, and then on the weekends I just put on my khaki hat and the adventure begins.  But alas, I am just an ordinary teacher, no whip, no upper body strength, and alas, no khaki hat.  

-Ang