-pretty toes
-girl's day out
-good friends
-good news
-hot coffee
-a great series of books
-oreo ice cream
-new football games to watch
-hearing my niece's sweet, sweet voice for the first time
(Join the crowd! )
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thankful Mondays
(Join the crowd! )
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
"Cutter, Cutter, Peanut Butter"
The school term begins this week in Uganda. Which means that school fees are being paid en masse at banks across this land.
I have been paying fees for awhile now. Start early. That’s the secret.
Unfortunately, “early” is not an easy thing for me.
So, it was with firm resolve that I walked up the stairs of the bank last Thursday at 11AM.
Yep. Almost midday. The line was all the way to the door.
Resigned to my fate, I joined the queue.
A queue full of two faces: The Stare and The Gawk.
I have mastered The Stare. The trick is finding nothing to look at. No person. No one thing for a very long time. Just an indifferent sort of gaze.
Most of my fellow queue-ers were already well into The Stare mode when I entered. I broke their reverie with my arrival.
The long line, to a person, broke wholeheartedly into The Gawk. This is enabled by my very white face.
I pretend not to notice. But The Gawk actually seems to burn holes in my back.
I ignore The Gawk and with a deep breath I enable my own Stare hoping that the effort will somehow, magically make me blend in.
Everyone’s attention is drawn away from my pale skin by the first cutter.
She is smooth. She walks past all of us with her heavy bag and stack of papers. She, in mastery of The Confident Gait, takes her place well in front of me.
I am silently annoyed. But I say nothing. Everyone's attention was just drawn AWAY from me. I did not want to call that attention back. Several of my Queue-mates raise their eyebrows and snicker. It seems they are almost thankful for the break in the endless staring. Her misdeed is a sort of distraction. (telling) We all quickly settle back into The Stare.
Two more self serving individuals place themselves conveniently at the front part of the line.
I decide, that the next time I will speak up.
And in walks E. The sweetest older woman you’ve ever met. I have only had two opportunities to speak with her through the years, but she is deeply respected and valued in this community.
I felt my Stare morph into Gawk as sweet little E greeted her way to the front of the line.
I imagined myself calling sweet E out. And I shuddered a little bit.
With a sigh, I kept my mouth closed.
The woman with the crippled leg grabbed my attention next. She limped her way to the front of the line and no one complained. I momentarily felt proud of the compassion and patience we were all exhibiting on her behalf. Of course SHE can go to the front of the line.
She approached the teller. Finished her transaction and then left.
A few minutes later she was back. With another transaction.
And again.
And again.
Seems she had a bit of a hustle going on. ☺
Meanwhile, I barely moved for another half hour.
All of a sudden (I must have dozed), I was near the front of the line. There were two in front of me.
Only.
And then.
The Nun.
She jumped in front of the first gentlemen. He was caught off guard, lost The Stare and looked annoyed for a quarter of a second. Then was jolted back into reality by the fact that she was A Nun.
She sidled up to the teller and pulled out a huge stack of papers.
Gracious me.
I think she was paying school fees for the entire tribe.
More unfortunate than her stack of papers, was the teller she chose. In over an hour of waiting time, I had carefully observed the tellers. There were four at work. One was for business customers only. Three were for the rest of us. Two of the tellers I had begun to think of as MH1 and MH2 (“MH” stands for molasses hands). The teller at the first window would be our savior. He worked quickly, relatively speaking. And I loved him.
UNTIL…and in the third world there is ALWAYS something else…
Mr Bank Employee in is stylin’ tweed jacket comes to complain to the tellers about the line. After talking their ears off for several minutes, which only served to slow them down, (have mercy!) he came out to address the crowd.
He said something like, “This line is too long!”
Thank you. I will now refer to you as Einstein.
So Einstein begins to peruse everyone’s deposit slips. In some seemingly arbitrary way, he pulls people from the line BEHIND me and puts them in a direct line for teller #1. The savior. Which, in effect, made him lost to me forever.
Now, thanks to the brilliant categorizing of Einstein, I am stuck behind Pushy Nun and my entire day rests in Hands Made of Molasses.
At this point, I began to huff. I couldn’t help it.
It did no good.
Twenty five minutes later, I dragged my weary bones to the teller window and handed her my papers.
She languidly went through the motions. I held my breath lest she decide it was tea time and leave me standing there. But, with a million slamming slaps of her official stamps, she finally completed my transaction.
Painful. Long. And able to reduce my maturity level to that of a 1st grader.
“Cutter, cutter, peanut butter!”
Next time I’m going with that!
I have been paying fees for awhile now. Start early. That’s the secret.
Unfortunately, “early” is not an easy thing for me.
So, it was with firm resolve that I walked up the stairs of the bank last Thursday at 11AM.
Yep. Almost midday. The line was all the way to the door.
Resigned to my fate, I joined the queue.
A queue full of two faces: The Stare and The Gawk.
I have mastered The Stare. The trick is finding nothing to look at. No person. No one thing for a very long time. Just an indifferent sort of gaze.
Most of my fellow queue-ers were already well into The Stare mode when I entered. I broke their reverie with my arrival.
The long line, to a person, broke wholeheartedly into The Gawk. This is enabled by my very white face.
I pretend not to notice. But The Gawk actually seems to burn holes in my back.
I ignore The Gawk and with a deep breath I enable my own Stare hoping that the effort will somehow, magically make me blend in.
Everyone’s attention is drawn away from my pale skin by the first cutter.
She is smooth. She walks past all of us with her heavy bag and stack of papers. She, in mastery of The Confident Gait, takes her place well in front of me.
I am silently annoyed. But I say nothing. Everyone's attention was just drawn AWAY from me. I did not want to call that attention back. Several of my Queue-mates raise their eyebrows and snicker. It seems they are almost thankful for the break in the endless staring. Her misdeed is a sort of distraction. (telling) We all quickly settle back into The Stare.
Two more self serving individuals place themselves conveniently at the front part of the line.
I decide, that the next time I will speak up.
And in walks E. The sweetest older woman you’ve ever met. I have only had two opportunities to speak with her through the years, but she is deeply respected and valued in this community.
I felt my Stare morph into Gawk as sweet little E greeted her way to the front of the line.
I imagined myself calling sweet E out. And I shuddered a little bit.
With a sigh, I kept my mouth closed.
The woman with the crippled leg grabbed my attention next. She limped her way to the front of the line and no one complained. I momentarily felt proud of the compassion and patience we were all exhibiting on her behalf. Of course SHE can go to the front of the line.
She approached the teller. Finished her transaction and then left.
A few minutes later she was back. With another transaction.
And again.
And again.
Seems she had a bit of a hustle going on. ☺
Meanwhile, I barely moved for another half hour.
All of a sudden (I must have dozed), I was near the front of the line. There were two in front of me.
Only.
And then.
The Nun.
She jumped in front of the first gentlemen. He was caught off guard, lost The Stare and looked annoyed for a quarter of a second. Then was jolted back into reality by the fact that she was A Nun.
She sidled up to the teller and pulled out a huge stack of papers.
Gracious me.
I think she was paying school fees for the entire tribe.
More unfortunate than her stack of papers, was the teller she chose. In over an hour of waiting time, I had carefully observed the tellers. There were four at work. One was for business customers only. Three were for the rest of us. Two of the tellers I had begun to think of as MH1 and MH2 (“MH” stands for molasses hands). The teller at the first window would be our savior. He worked quickly, relatively speaking. And I loved him.
UNTIL…and in the third world there is ALWAYS something else…
Mr Bank Employee in is stylin’ tweed jacket comes to complain to the tellers about the line. After talking their ears off for several minutes, which only served to slow them down, (have mercy!) he came out to address the crowd.
He said something like, “This line is too long!”
Thank you. I will now refer to you as Einstein.
So Einstein begins to peruse everyone’s deposit slips. In some seemingly arbitrary way, he pulls people from the line BEHIND me and puts them in a direct line for teller #1. The savior. Which, in effect, made him lost to me forever.
Now, thanks to the brilliant categorizing of Einstein, I am stuck behind Pushy Nun and my entire day rests in Hands Made of Molasses.
At this point, I began to huff. I couldn’t help it.
It did no good.
Twenty five minutes later, I dragged my weary bones to the teller window and handed her my papers.
She languidly went through the motions. I held my breath lest she decide it was tea time and leave me standing there. But, with a million slamming slaps of her official stamps, she finally completed my transaction.
Painful. Long. And able to reduce my maturity level to that of a 1st grader.
“Cutter, cutter, peanut butter!”
Next time I’m going with that!
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Thankful for...
---a moment alone on the porch with a cup of tea and a cool breeze
---fajitas!
---American football
---long conversations with my husband
---chocolate frozen desserts
---my daughter cooking breakfast
---older siblings leading younger siblings through reading and math
---completed tasks
---new school books
---speaking Rutoro to children
Monday, August 17, 2009
Mojo Magic
I went to a wonderful high school some years ago.
20 years ago.
I know! I can’t believe that either. ☺
But nevertheless, the time, it passes.
As I perused FB photos from the reunion this last week, I remembered many things about high school. The memories are random and in no particular order. Which is pretty much life for me these days.
So. High school.
1. My graduating class had @650 graduates. I can’t remember the exact number.
2. At graduation I did not know either of the people sitting next to me. (I had to count down the row 10 people before I came to someone I knew.)
3. My sophomore year of school I never saw my best friend at school, ever. We had different lunches and class schedules and so had to meet up on the weekends.
4. I was in band and choir.
5. I loved band. They were like family during those years and some of my best memories are with those funny, funny folks.
6. Our band was really great!
7. It took 6 buses to transport our band and equipment to games and contests.
8. MA was always my seatmate on band bus trips. Unless she had a boyfriend.
9. I had a boyfriend every year of high school but rarely had a date on the weekends. Unless it was a holiday. (it’s like a riddle)
10. I did not go to prom and I’m still okay with that.
11. My dad heard about more of my friend’s parties than I did. (clarification: he was never invited. He just always heard about them.)
12. I was only offered drugs once. (I stared at the young man in shocked silence and he immediately shoved the goods back in his pocket and sulked in the back of our chemistry class. I never saw him in class again.)
13. I cannot stand KFC because of a very ill-fated meal on a cross country band trip at a Moose Lodge in Arizona. Yucky.
14. I loved football season.
15. I was a Pepette my senior year.
16. My track runner was Shane, my basketball player was ?, and my football player was Tag. (why can’t I remember my basketball player? Shawn Almond? Did he play basketball?)
17. I first got to know Tag in 8th grade. In junior high, the football players joined home economics class for laughs and Tag was placed in my cooking group. I cooked. He made jokes. We got an A.
18. An author followed our football team around all year and told our student body at a pep rally that he was going to write a book about Permian like the story “Hoosiers”.
19. He did write a book.
20. It is nothing like Hoosiers.
21. The book made me sad. The movie was weird to watch. The TV show is one of my favorites. Go figure.
22. The first time I took a computer class was my junior year.
23. We learned MSDOS code. We thought we were so advanced.
24. We often wrote words and messages on each other’s car windows with white shoe polish.
25. I remember the first time I heard the brass section play in a rehearsal at the band hall. It was impressive.
26. Mr Nail called me a slug once over his bullhorn.
27. I remember all the girls curling our bangs in the dressing room after early morning marching. And the smell of hairspray that permeated the air. Bangs were so important then. (Okay. Bangs are still important. We just don’t make them so big.)
28. The invention of the butane curling iron revolutionized life for the band girls.
29. The last time I ever marched, it was rainy and cold.
30. My dad always played Santa Claus at our half time show at Christmas.
31. Hawai 50!
32. I can still play part of the Mojo fight song on the flute. (powerful ☺)
33. Arlington High vs Permian was the best high school football game I have ever seen. Maybe that was ever played?
34. The Arlington High band got aggressive during our pre-game march around the track thing. The band. They marched into our band and hit us. Meanies. I thought we were really going to see Mr Nail’s head explode.
35. My friends gave me a surprise party for my 18th birthday.
36. I made a bet with my BFF that whoever married first had to buy dinner for the other at a very expensive restaurant when we turned 40. We got married within a month of each other. (after college, not in high school) I owe her dinner. Soon.
37. I loved sitting next to Karina in band. We were funny. (even if no one else appreciated the humor)
38. There was this one intersection of halls at Permian where you could barely move through between classes. You just sort of smooshed into an obscure sort of “lane” and inched your way in the direction of your next class. It was noisy and crowded and always made me nervous.
39. I think of that every time I drive in Kampala traffic.
40. I made first chair in the PHS band flute section exactly one time.
41. I never sat first chair because, well, Denise and Stephanie…but I told my dear friend Mary and she celebrated with me.
42. TACO VILLA!!!!
43. Before I got my car I rode to school in a white mustang with Jill. We were always running a wee bit late, so Jill had to drive fast. It broke her heart to do so because she was such a safe and conscientious driver. ☺
44. Open-campus meant we got to eat out for lunch. I thought this was so cool but it was also the most stressful time of day. Drive somewhere. Eat. Drive back. In 25 minutes.
45. Eating at Wendy’s always makes me think of Danny, Mary and a brown Honda.
46. I was president of the National Honor Society.
47. I was chaplain of band and choir.
48. I led a lot of prayers.
49. I had a Physics teacher named Mr. Hare who was completely bald. And he was a contortionist.
50. I started and ended every school day in the band hall. It was home away from home.
Our class became somewhat famous. We are the class from Friday Night Lights.
It was exciting to think of someone writing a book about our school. Until it was published. And then most folks were underwhelmed or irate. It is difficult to be scrutinized publicly.
I never played football. (shocker) But I was an active part of many other aspects of Permian High School. So, for me, the very public analysis of our football program, school and town never felt complete. Did Mr. Bissinger really do all his homework?
He never interviewed me.
Smile
Go MOJO! Keep supporting your kids.
I loved being a part of your tradition and memories!
20 years ago.
I know! I can’t believe that either. ☺
But nevertheless, the time, it passes.
As I perused FB photos from the reunion this last week, I remembered many things about high school. The memories are random and in no particular order. Which is pretty much life for me these days.
So. High school.
1. My graduating class had @650 graduates. I can’t remember the exact number.
2. At graduation I did not know either of the people sitting next to me. (I had to count down the row 10 people before I came to someone I knew.)
3. My sophomore year of school I never saw my best friend at school, ever. We had different lunches and class schedules and so had to meet up on the weekends.
4. I was in band and choir.
5. I loved band. They were like family during those years and some of my best memories are with those funny, funny folks.
6. Our band was really great!
7. It took 6 buses to transport our band and equipment to games and contests.
8. MA was always my seatmate on band bus trips. Unless she had a boyfriend.
9. I had a boyfriend every year of high school but rarely had a date on the weekends. Unless it was a holiday. (it’s like a riddle)
10. I did not go to prom and I’m still okay with that.
11. My dad heard about more of my friend’s parties than I did. (clarification: he was never invited. He just always heard about them.)
12. I was only offered drugs once. (I stared at the young man in shocked silence and he immediately shoved the goods back in his pocket and sulked in the back of our chemistry class. I never saw him in class again.)
13. I cannot stand KFC because of a very ill-fated meal on a cross country band trip at a Moose Lodge in Arizona. Yucky.
14. I loved football season.
15. I was a Pepette my senior year.
16. My track runner was Shane, my basketball player was ?, and my football player was Tag. (why can’t I remember my basketball player? Shawn Almond? Did he play basketball?)
17. I first got to know Tag in 8th grade. In junior high, the football players joined home economics class for laughs and Tag was placed in my cooking group. I cooked. He made jokes. We got an A.
18. An author followed our football team around all year and told our student body at a pep rally that he was going to write a book about Permian like the story “Hoosiers”.
19. He did write a book.
20. It is nothing like Hoosiers.
21. The book made me sad. The movie was weird to watch. The TV show is one of my favorites. Go figure.
22. The first time I took a computer class was my junior year.
23. We learned MSDOS code. We thought we were so advanced.
24. We often wrote words and messages on each other’s car windows with white shoe polish.
25. I remember the first time I heard the brass section play in a rehearsal at the band hall. It was impressive.
26. Mr Nail called me a slug once over his bullhorn.
27. I remember all the girls curling our bangs in the dressing room after early morning marching. And the smell of hairspray that permeated the air. Bangs were so important then. (Okay. Bangs are still important. We just don’t make them so big.)
28. The invention of the butane curling iron revolutionized life for the band girls.
29. The last time I ever marched, it was rainy and cold.
30. My dad always played Santa Claus at our half time show at Christmas.
31. Hawai 50!
32. I can still play part of the Mojo fight song on the flute. (powerful ☺)
33. Arlington High vs Permian was the best high school football game I have ever seen. Maybe that was ever played?
34. The Arlington High band got aggressive during our pre-game march around the track thing. The band. They marched into our band and hit us. Meanies. I thought we were really going to see Mr Nail’s head explode.
35. My friends gave me a surprise party for my 18th birthday.
36. I made a bet with my BFF that whoever married first had to buy dinner for the other at a very expensive restaurant when we turned 40. We got married within a month of each other. (after college, not in high school) I owe her dinner. Soon.
37. I loved sitting next to Karina in band. We were funny. (even if no one else appreciated the humor)
38. There was this one intersection of halls at Permian where you could barely move through between classes. You just sort of smooshed into an obscure sort of “lane” and inched your way in the direction of your next class. It was noisy and crowded and always made me nervous.
39. I think of that every time I drive in Kampala traffic.
40. I made first chair in the PHS band flute section exactly one time.
41. I never sat first chair because, well, Denise and Stephanie…but I told my dear friend Mary and she celebrated with me.
42. TACO VILLA!!!!
43. Before I got my car I rode to school in a white mustang with Jill. We were always running a wee bit late, so Jill had to drive fast. It broke her heart to do so because she was such a safe and conscientious driver. ☺
44. Open-campus meant we got to eat out for lunch. I thought this was so cool but it was also the most stressful time of day. Drive somewhere. Eat. Drive back. In 25 minutes.
45. Eating at Wendy’s always makes me think of Danny, Mary and a brown Honda.
46. I was president of the National Honor Society.
47. I was chaplain of band and choir.
48. I led a lot of prayers.
49. I had a Physics teacher named Mr. Hare who was completely bald. And he was a contortionist.
50. I started and ended every school day in the band hall. It was home away from home.
Our class became somewhat famous. We are the class from Friday Night Lights.
It was exciting to think of someone writing a book about our school. Until it was published. And then most folks were underwhelmed or irate. It is difficult to be scrutinized publicly.
I never played football. (shocker) But I was an active part of many other aspects of Permian High School. So, for me, the very public analysis of our football program, school and town never felt complete. Did Mr. Bissinger really do all his homework?
He never interviewed me.
Smile
Go MOJO! Keep supporting your kids.
I loved being a part of your tradition and memories!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
"MOM!!!!"
Remarkable things follow that familiar cry. Sometimes love. Sometimes tears.
And sometimes…
“He peed on my stomach and now I HAVE to take a bath.”
“We were playing the game where we hit our heads against each other’s knees…”
“There are nine rats in our closet.”
It’s never boring around here!
And sometimes…
“He peed on my stomach and now I HAVE to take a bath.”
“We were playing the game where we hit our heads against each other’s knees…”
“There are nine rats in our closet.”
It’s never boring around here!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
A Glimpse
Glimpse: a momentary or partial view
Silas stopped by the kitchen for his snack break. It had been a whole 5 minutes since his last request for chocolate. A request that scored a banana. He was back to try again.
He could not stand still. Arms tugging at his shirt and hands tapping the table and eyes darting around the room.
“Mom. Could I have something to eat….like chocolate?”
I pause to take in this sweet, sweet boy. Growing seemingly before my very eyes.
And I catch a glimpse of something odd around his waist.
“What is that around your waist?!”
Head ducking…
“A rubber band.”
“Why is it around your waist?”
“Well, these shorts are too big and keep falling off, so I put a rubber band around them to keep them up.”
Matter of fact. Eyes searching my face for an explanation of my concern.
“Please take that off. Rubber bands can cut off circulation and cause problems. Belts are for your waist. Rubber bands are for…something else. NOT any body part. Ever.”
“Yes mam.”
And then up over his head (!) comes the rubber band and still in tact, he hands it to me and runs off to play.
Tugging at his shorts and shouting to his brothers…
“She said no to the chocolate.”
Silas stopped by the kitchen for his snack break. It had been a whole 5 minutes since his last request for chocolate. A request that scored a banana. He was back to try again.
He could not stand still. Arms tugging at his shirt and hands tapping the table and eyes darting around the room.
“Mom. Could I have something to eat….like chocolate?”
I pause to take in this sweet, sweet boy. Growing seemingly before my very eyes.
And I catch a glimpse of something odd around his waist.
“What is that around your waist?!”
Head ducking…
“A rubber band.”
“Why is it around your waist?”
“Well, these shorts are too big and keep falling off, so I put a rubber band around them to keep them up.”
Matter of fact. Eyes searching my face for an explanation of my concern.
“Please take that off. Rubber bands can cut off circulation and cause problems. Belts are for your waist. Rubber bands are for…something else. NOT any body part. Ever.”
“Yes mam.”
And then up over his head (!) comes the rubber band and still in tact, he hands it to me and runs off to play.
Tugging at his shorts and shouting to his brothers…
“She said no to the chocolate.”
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
106. Silas and Jotham laughing over a silly joke.
107. Isaac reading a book.
108. Anticipation of fellowship.
109. Healing.
110. Enough Velveeta to make Queso.
111. Sharing Queso with friends!
112. Praying with brave women.
113. Comfy jeans.
114. Helpful kiddos.
115. A very hot cup of tea.
Thankful for all of these...
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