Dunbar, Nebraska

You Can Buy My CD!

2008-10-18T10:40:00.001-07:00

I have taken the leap! Go to my new blog to pre-order Emily Dunbar's debut CD. Pre-buying will help me generate the cash I need to make it happen. I even posted a (slightly cheesey) video of me playing Catch It When You can. Thanks for all of your kind responses to my survey question!

A Survey Question (if anyone still checks my blog)

2008-09-28T18:09:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I don't write very often. I hope you still stop by and check sometimes.

Here is a senario for you, followed by a survey question.

Let's say I wanted to go to Texas at the end of January and record an album with Tom Prasado Rao and Cary Cooper at their studio, the Wildwood Tofu Bar so I could have an actual, honest-to-goodness studio album. But let's say I did not have the capital to put forth for this. Would you be willing to buy this CD now, pre-pay, $15 + $5 shipping now for a finished product I could probably send you in June?

I'm trying to figure out if this might be something I could actually do. Please let me know. If you don't like to post comments, email me, or facebook me. It's a thing others have done and I'm wondering if it might work for me.

Thanks, friends. I really will try and write something soon!

Song School Installment Three: Josh Ritter (now LONGER)

2008-08-21T16:40:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter rather obsessively for the past few weeks. I knew he would be at Song School and the RMFF so I wanted to be prepared. I had various songs by him on various mixes from Nate, but I wanted to really give him a listen. This just got me more excited.

As I said previously, Josh missed the first day of Song School due to flight problems. The second day, Tuesday, I wasn't sure if he was there. There had been no announcement and no one had said "Hey! There's Josh Ritter!" So at 1:30 I went to the Mountain Lion Tent where his session was supposed to be. I was the only one there. I decided not to move--to sit in faith that Josh Ritter would appear. A guy named Ken appeared and we discussed the chances of this deal actually going down. Ken decided to take action (good man!) and go ask somebody. There I sat, alone in the Mountain Lion Tent, when in walked Josh Ritter. I wasn't actually sure it was Josh Ritter. But I said, "Hi, I'm Emily" and he said, "Hi, I'm Josh Ritter." So, yes, no question about it...Josh Ritter. And there we were alone in the Mountain Lion Tent.

But as soon as people could see that there were people (me and Josh Ritter) in the Mountain Lion tent they began to come. I was afraid it would be huge, but it was only fifteen or so people. Let me just say, that Josh Ritter looks like he's 15--maybe 20. He was very nervous. He said had never taught anything before and was quite unsure what to expect from us or what we expected from him. He said he had a bottle of whiskey in his bag should worse come to worst. But we were very easy and he was great.

He had seven or eight principles of songwriting to share. Two that have really stuck with are 1) never use cliches and 2) mulch your ideas. Cliches are the easy way out. We should strive to say things--convey our ideas--craft words so perfectly that we create the new cliches. As songwriters we should be writing so beautifully that people will borrow our wording.

The mulching is a little harder to explain. Josh said that he rewrites and edits...well...a lot. He said he works with an idea for as long as he can until he is certain it simply isn't going to work and then he mulches it. He visualizes chopping off the idea and letting it drop to the floor. Then, all his future ideas, all his potential ideas eat it. They cannibalize it. It becomes mulch or compost and feeds his future ideas. It's the conservation of energy--nothing is lost. Even though it may be frustrating to strike a thought you have put a lot of thought or energy into, it isn't lost. It feeds your future ideas. Parts of it may emerge later in another form.

We talked for a long time. It was very conversational, very participatory. Then someone (Sarah Sample, I think) suggested he sing a song for us and then tell us about his songwriting process. He played The Temptation of Adam, Kathleen and a new one called Folk Bloodbath. It was awesome. He closed his eyes and smiled and sang his heart out right there in the tent for the 15 of us. Ahhhhhh.....

___________________________________________________
Nate wanted more details, so I thought I'd tack some on.

Regarding The Temptation of Adam, Josh said that he had been mulling over the concept of this song for some time. He had the story. He specifically had the ending in mind--"I look at the great red button and I'm tempted"--and had to work backwards to fill in the story/events that precede it. He did a lot of research about missle silos. It sounds like he reads a lot. I think he was speaking specifically of this song when he talked about his rewriting and editing process. He will write the same song over from multiple points of view, with different rhyme schemes, in differet meters until he finds what works best. I can't say that I've ever been that committed to a song--to keep rewriting it?!

Another thing he talked about, which I loved, was debunking the myth of "the artist." A person doesn't have to be mentally ill, or medicated, or wacky to be an artist. Josh admonished us to be healthy, go for a run, get a good night's sleep and go buy groceries--"you'll write better." He also said that crediting being an artist or crediting "genius" for great songs does everyone a great disservice. It devalues the work of the songwriter. Songwriting is a craft, not an art--through discipline and work songwriters hammer together words into songs. To say that someone writes good songs because they are an artist implies that songs magically appear. It implies lack of effort. It implies ease. It also implies that you have to be a certain type of person (ie: unhealthy, medicated, wacky, up all night, messy, difficult, etc--you know the stereotype) to create good work. That was affirming to a fairly straight-laced gal like myself. It is also great to think that I can improve. It's not some gift and you take it or leave it. It's a craft and you learn it and practice it and improve it.

Regarding "Kathleen," Josh mentioned something about getting into a fight at a Dunkin' Donuts and somehow that tied in to the writing of the song. I never quite made the connection, but it was funny to imagine him getting in a fight at Dunkin' Donuts.

Clearly, I'm all out of good details.

Song School Second Installment: Melissa Ferrick

2008-08-21T11:09:00.001-07:00

I took a class with Paul Reisler called Directed Writing, which was great but sort of intense and structured. It was 2-1/2 hours three mornings in a row. Most classes just met once. Everyday there was a morning session, lunch and then two afternoon sessions and open mic in the evenings. After the first Reisler class I wanted something more loosey goosey. There was an afternoon session with Josh Ritter scheduled but his flights had been screwed up and he wasn't there yet. I saw "Creative Songwriting Group" with Melissa Ferrick. The schedule offered no descrition of what this entailed and that appealed to me.

I had heard Melissa Ferrick's name before but hadn't heard her music and hadn't seen her yet at Planet Bluegrass. So, I was walking into who-knows-what. I soon found that she is a gem. She is super skinny hipster with black hair and big black rimmed glasses. She spent most of the time sprawled out in the grass while the rest of us sat in chairs in a circle. Her tour manager Bubba was with her and he is a delightful and charming guy.

The class was nothing earth shattering. We did a brainstorm cluster on paper. We all started with the work rock and did a word web/diagram thing. After a few minutes, everyone had riffed on "rock" and had a page covered in words. Our next task was to take 15 minutes and freewrite, trying to connect words from opposite sides of the page. This was good fun. When came back and read aloud what we had written. Some of it nonsense. Some of it hilarious. Some of it genius and some of it intriguing and worth pursuing in further writing. The best thing was just Melissa's vibe. She is smart and funny and open. She'd point out what she thought were interesting phrases or ideas. The group was full of great people too. Everyone pitched in and discussed the writings of others. It was nice to do something immediate--talk about a process, jam through it, write and share. Invigorating. At the end, Melissa had us all commit to something off our page to write about it.

Then she played a few songs. And members in the class played songs and she offered suggestions and comments. It was a very fun, very relaxing hour or so. Just what the doctor ordered.

Melissa gave us her cell # and told us that if we did actually write a song to call her or find her so she could hear it. Or if we had questions or wanted help/input on anything, we should track her down--she was at Song School all week and didn't play the festival until Sunday, so she would be accessible. Very generous.

I had chosen to write a song based on a riff I got into about gold lamE. If I knew how to make an accent, that would be a lower case e with an accent--shiny metalic fabric. You know what I mean, right? The ideas bumbled around in my head. Over the course of the evening they started to take shape. In the morning I sat out with my coffee, my notebook and my guitar and wrote and wrote. I wrote and crossed out and wrote more. I went to class but gold lamE was rattling around in the background. I ate my lunch, scribbled in my notebook, and noodled on the guitar and by the time for the next class Gold LamE was mostly complete.

I knew Melissa was having class in the same tent as the day before, The Spider Tent near the main stage. So after my afternoon session--with Josh Ritter who finally showed up (more on JR in Installment Three)--I walked over to find her. I started to feel sheepish. Really? I'm really going to walk up and just play this song? But I had no reason to believe that Melissa was anything but geniune when she said to do so and my mantra for the week was "this is your one shot at this, so take it." So, I walked up and announced that I had a song to play. After some initial bumbling and trying to remember--my brain was filled with Josh Ritter songs--I played it.

Melissa and Bubba's reaction was beyond what I could have imagined. They loved it. They asked me to play it again. We talked about where the lyrics were a bit rough and threw around ideas for patching them up. Melissa said, basically, that she thought this song should be cut in Nashville...and did I know her good friend Lori McKenna? And when I got home my first order of buisness was to demo this song and email it to Melissa so she could pass it on to Lori and whoever else she thought might be able to help me.

Gulp.

Lori McKenna is a Boston songwriter. Faith Hill cut like five of her songs on her last album and Lori has been the opener for Faith's tour.

If the story ends here I can still die a happy woman. That sort of affirmation does not grow on trees, my friends, and the sentiment alone made my week. If actions follow and something...anything...whatever...happens as a result of this amazing moment in time, well it will be the icing.

The next day Bubba tracked me down with a new plan. He thought that waiting for me to demo the song might take a while (true...though I have recording equipment in my possesion I still haven't done it...maybe tomorrow) so he wanted to video tape me playing Gold LamE. That way he'd have it on him if opportunity arose. So on the last night of Song School I sat in the Wildflower Pavillion and Bubba Mack, Melissa Ferrick's tour manager extrodinaire, videoed me singing my new song.

Once I record it, I'll see if I can't find a way to post it here so you can all hear me channelling my inner Dolly Parton.

So, I love Melissa Ferrick. Not only because of her kindness to me, but because she is funny, a fantastic songwriter and an amazing performer. Her set rocked. Hooray for Melissa Ferrick.

First Installment

2008-08-19T07:31:00.000-07:00

I just got back last night from my week at Planet Bluegrass in Lyons, Colorado. I am still unpacking and processing but I wanted to post a couple of incredibly cool items to give you a hint, a smidge, a clue about just how amazing the four days of Song School and three days of the Folks Festival were.

Click here to read the article with which this photo of me and Josh Ritter (and some other people, but it's me and Josh Ritter who are important) was published. It's about The Song School and I am quoted. Thank you, Denver Post for making a public record of this!

And, this is one just makes me happy, click here to see my name mentioned in Melissa Ferrick's blog.

Aaaaaahhhh. Good stuff. More to come.

You Will Not Be Sorry

2008-06-21T07:19:00.000-07:00

Last night we watched "King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters." This is the best movie I have seen in a long, long time. You may know that Paul and I both are big fans of the mockumentary genre: "Wating for Guffman," "Spinal Tap," "Best in Show," etc. Imagine our delight to find a documentary--a straight documentary--that was every bit as funny and engaging as a Christopher Guest film. I laughed, I cried, I was on the edge of my seat--literally. I was.

Apparently the narrative feature film version of the documentary is now being written--I'm sure it will be fantastic and they will go nuts recreating the 80's hair and clothes and whatnot--but please, please see the original. No one can possibly play Billy Mitchell, Donkey Kong World Champion as villianously and hilariously as Billy Mitchell himself. No one could play underdog and all around good guy Steve Weibe better than Steve Weibe. If you just see the feature film you will think they made up the Video Game Score Keeper who practices transcendental meditation. Rent it. You will not be sorry.

The World Famous Dunbars

2008-06-18T15:32:00.000-07:00

The Dunbar clan tends to monopolize the front page of the Hastings Tribune. This is our third cover this year. What can I say? We go where the action is and the photographers gravitate toward cute kiddos. Ollie is not pictured (he was to theright of Paul), but Mo's friend Trev is beside him (Ollie took that in stride--he's a trooper). The pic will link to the article.

dinner time prayer

2008-06-11T16:52:00.000-07:00

Dear God,
Thank you for curry sauce with chick peas and rice.
Thank you for Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone.
Thank you for Lemony Snickett's Series of Unfortuneate Events.
Thank you for The Magic Treehouse and Captain Underpants.
Thank you that we get to go see "Kung Fu Panda."
And thank you for Jesus.
Amen.

beautiful day

2008-06-11T09:11:00.000-07:00

We woke up around 8:30 or 9. Paul was already out birding. The kids and I took our books and breakfast to the patio. When we had finished eating and reading (me: Middlemarch, Ollie: Magic Treehouse Christmas in Camelot, Moses: 100 Things You Should Know About Arms and Armor, Phoebe: Harry Potter & the Sorceror's Stone) we made a bouquet. I handed out clippers and sent them each off in search of various cuttings from the yard: Phoebe, bring me a white peony. Moses, I need seven daisies. Oliver, get four springs of mint. We put it in a beautfiul vase made for me by Angela for my birthday last year. Then, we planted some grass seed and watered the plants. Next, we took a walk.

Paul came home and we all ate lunch and drove to the Stuhr Museum in Grand Island. The kids had been there on field trips (one of which I chaperoned). Paul had never been, but he's officiating a wedding in the rose garden there in a couple of weeks. We got a map from the main building (where Ollie caused a traffic jam by reading aloud the sign that said "Sturh Museum Foundation." I wasn't really paying attention and it wouldn't have struck me if I had been, but all the docents freaked out that Ollie fluently read the sign. I forget sometimes that most five year olds don't do that) and headed to the 1898 railroad town.

It's a whole town set circa 1898 (I accidentally typed 1989--that would be kind of fu too, though). In each building there is a docent or "interpreter" in period dress who walks you around, explains and answers questions. We toured homes--the kids were fascinated by the stoves, the box grand piano and a dumb waiter. In one house the interpreter was so shy and akward that I felt like we had actually just walked into her house. At the next house a young woman walked out onto the porch to greet us and said to the kids "I'm so glad you are here! I need your help!" and she marched them to the backyard to take the laundry off the line. It was fantatstic. We went to the mill, the tin smith (the kids made a tin icicle), the post office, railway station, jail, etc. The kids wanted to know about everything and kept saying things that made my heart glad like, "Marilla Cuthbert has that in her kitchen!" or "Laura Ingalls probably used one of those."

Just before 5:00 we went to the early bird dinner at Red Lobster. I know, Red Lobster. But even in the big town of Grand Island our choices are Applebee's, Ruby Tuesday, Whiskey Creek, Perkins and Red Lobster. You know what? It was delicious. I had the grilled harbor platter (shrimp and lobster), Paul had a big ole plate of crab legs and the kids had popcorn shrimp. Our stuffed bellies suprisingly had ice-cream shaped holes in them (this is our standard joke when the kids CAN'T eat their vegetables because they are SO FULL, but then ask for desert) so we went to Cold Stone Creamery and headed home. Paul got pulled over on 281, but got off with a warning.

Monday was a good day.

Catch Up

2008-06-06T14:32:00.000-07:00

Tonight is our Vacation Bible School picnic. For the fifth or sixth year I have done VBS music. As my musicianship has improved so has the VBS music. Tonight we will be singing "Oh, How I Love Jesus" and "Softly and Tenderly" accompanied by the accordion (note the 3/4 time on those--perfect for the oooom-pah-pah), which most of the kids had never seen before, and "Alleluia to the Lamb" and "Big House" accompanied by the pink Daisy Rock electric guitar. Of course the acoustic would have been just fine, but the kids got really really jazzed about plugging in. After the picnic several other mom/helpers will go to Murphy's for our annual post-VBS beer. I love my church.

Paul bought a 23-pound turkey. The desire for a giant turkey must have just struck him while at the grocery store. I started defrosting it--it took forever--and realized I was running out of dinners at which to serve a giant turkey. Tonight is the picnic, tomorrow is Phoebe's birthday party and Sunday we'll be in Iowa. So, I got up early and put that bad boy in the oven. We had roast turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy for lunch today...June 6..for no good reason. It was great. While Paul was carving I drove to the gas station and bought big-gulpy giant Cokes to go with our giant turkey. Yum.

Phoebe's ninth birthday party is tomorrow. Six girls are coming over. We're roasting hotdogs over a fire in the back yard and having s'mores in lieue of cake. Did I put an extra "e" in lieue?

I'm missing a camp reunion right now. I'm trying to think about it. I could be in Monett chillin' at the Garretts' house and visiting the greatest man I've ever known, Heno Head, who is old and quite ill and requested we have a reunion so that he could see us all, his camp children, again. I just couldn't swing it. JVB even offered to meet me at the Iowa/Nebraska border and drive me down. :(

JVB lives astonishinly close to John & Hope, but almost everytime I go visit John and Hope JVB goes out of town. I think we'll get to see him this time on our way home, though. Hooray!

My parents brought us a Wii. There's loads of fake tennis and fake boxing etc going on around here. I'm sad to say, my initial Wii fitness age was 79. Say what?

My mother-in-law in Indiana called me at seven this morning. My mother in St. Louis called me at eight. Both had heard on the news, or heard from someone who heard on the news that Hastings was hit by tornados. Not true. Wednesday night the sirens went off at 1 am and we hauled the kids to the basement, but there was no rotation. Last Thursday there were loads of tornados throughout the state, but none in Hastings. Last night, there was nothing.

I'm taking a one-credit class by arrangement this summer. The chair of the English department, another English professor, my friend/co-worker J and I are reading George Eliot's Middlemarch. We get together on Wednesday nights at the chair's home and discuss. It's like my dream book group. I get college credit for this. Reading and talking and drinking ginger tea.

Speaking of ginger--vodka ginger lemonade--my new summer drink of choice. Mix one cup sugar, one cup water and 2 tsp ground ginger. Boil for a couple minutes until slightly syruppy. Let cool. Then pour syrup into a pitcher with 1/2 cup lemon juice, 1-1/4 cup vodka and a 750 ml bottle of sparkling water. Serve over ice. Say hello to summer.

Because of my nutty new life with a job and graduate school I didn't teach Sunday School at all this year until the past three weeks. Why is it so easy to forget how much I love something? What a ridiculous notion--to forget a thing like that. I love those kids. It was great to discuss spiritual matters and theology with teenagers and try and get them to really think and not just recite and try and break big ideas down into smaller pieces, not too small--not pat-answers--but manageable pieces. Good stuff.

children's tv programming ain't what it used to be

2008-06-01T19:08:00.001-07:00

Sesame Street 1972

The Soundtrack of my Life

2008-05-22T11:58:00.000-07:00

My friend Joe posted this little game on his facebook page and since today I am all about 1) music and 2) stealing ideas from other people's blogs, I thought I'd play.

So, here's how it works:1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc) 2. Put it on shuffle. 3. Press play. 4. For every question, type the song that's playing. 5. When you go to a new question, press the next button. 6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool. This is my life as a movie soundtrack...

Opening Credits: Ob La Di Ob La Da--The Beatles (beautiful start!)
First Day At School: Keep the Customer Satisfied -- Simon & Garfunkle
Falling In Love: Mah Na Mah Na -- The Muppets (strangely appropriate)
Breaking Up: Every Minute -- Sara Groves
1st date: Coleman Stove -- Jalan Crossland
Prom: School House Rocky, the theme from School House Rock
Life's OK: Box of Letters -- Emily Dunbar (a little wierd to hear myself, but it's my soundtrack, right?)
Driving: You Can Still Rock in America -- Night Ranger (perfect!)
Flashback: Overture from The Nightmare Before Christmas
Getting Back Together: Down to the River to Pray -- Allison Krauss
Wedding: Mad Mission -- Patty Griffin
Final Battle: Bitter End -- Dixie Chicks
Death Scene: Circle of Life from the Lion King (I kid you not!)
Funeral Song: In Thee is Gladness (instrumental) -- Jonathan Rundman (nice!)
End Credits: Stockton Gala Days (unplugged) -- 10,000 Maniacs

mix tape

2008-05-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

I saw this on The Champ's blog and had to make my own. It may not stay up there forever, but I'll leave it for a while. Happy listening.

More Bonehead Moments

2008-05-19T06:39:00.000-07:00

Last night we had two Netflix DVDs to choose from: "Across the Universe" and "No Country for Old Men." Paul said he was in the mood for "No Country..." This surprised me because we were starting late after an evening with friends in the backyard and I sort of felt like lighter fare. But no matter; I deferred; in went "No Country for Old Men."

It turns out Paul had, in his mind, confused "No Country for Old Men" with "The Bucket List." Why he would have imagined I'd ordered "The Bucket List" from Netflix is another issue, but imagine his surprise when Javier Bardem's character started strangling people with handcuffs and blowing their brains out with an air compressor. Nicholson and Freeman in the feel good movie of the year it is not.

Bonehead Moments with Emily Dunbar

2008-05-14T14:46:00.000-07:00

I just wrote a final paper compareing the use of tragic dramatic irony in Sophocles' Oedipus the King and the use of comic dramatic irony in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I went to take my final yesterday (one of three that day!) and came to a question that stumped me.

Name Oedipus' s mother and father.

Well, I had just written the paper--that should have been easy. I thought to myself "Laius is the father and the mother is....? Jocasta is his wife, but who is his mother?" I finally left it blank.

Uh, his wife IS his mother.

That's the whole flippin' point of the story: he kills his father and marries his mother.

I don't have a 4.0 for nothing, folks.

Third Grade Spelling Homework

2008-05-13T04:19:00.000-07:00

Phoebe was working on writing a sentence with each of her spelling words. She ran this one by me:

Being physically blind is very different from being spiritually blind.

I'm sure Mrs. Olson will love that.

Get This

2008-04-30T06:20:00.000-07:00

It's Academic Showcase Day at Hastings College. I'm presenting a paper--a literary anaylsis of Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club. I've never really presented a paper before so I'm a little nervous, but it's a good paper, I put together a decent power point to go with it; it will be fine. And becaue it is ASD there are no classes today. That's nice.

I just checked my email and there was a deal from Planet Bluegrass--which puts on the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival and The Song School (for which I got my grant). Get this:
1. Nanci Griffith is in the line up for the festival.
2. Josh Ritter is in the line up for the festival and will be an instructor at song school.
How freakin' cool is that?!

Fully Funded!

2008-03-26T14:04:00.000-07:00

Narrative

There are two things I have always dreamed of being: a rock star and an English teacher. They are not as dissimilar as they immediately seem. Both entail standing before a group of people, forging a connection, and sharing knowledge and ideas, be they academic, creative or emotional.
Six years ago I took my first steps toward my dream of rock stardom by buying a guitar and taking lessons. As a twenty-seven-year-old pastor's wife and stay-at-home-mom of three, the dream, not surprisingly, took on a new form from that of my youth. I quickly became aware that my joy didn't lie necessarily in performance or the hope of fame, but in creation. I began to study the craft of songwriting. I now perform regularly in Hastings and nearby communities and in 2006, I won a statewide songwriting contest. The process of turning a daydream into a reality has been exciting, empowering and inspiring.

This fall I started working toward my second dream of being a teacher. I am pursing my Masters of Arts in Teaching with an endorsement in secondary English. I work as a graduate assistant in the Learning Center where I edit student papers, give general study help, and teach Learning Labs to students in the Excel program for academically at-risk freshmen. Much of my work is focused on writing, be it informal instruction to drop-in students or formal lessons in the Lab.

An Imagine Grant can help me combine my two dreams by attending The Song School at Planet Bluegrass. For the past twelve years Planet Bluegrass in Lyons, Colorado has hosted an intensive four-day songwriting workshop. The Song School is self-described as an event “which brings songwriting and creativity together in a community based on shared love of music and support for each participant.” Each August, songwriters from around the country and the globe join together to explore the writing process and create, hone and share their songs. The Song School provides a nurturing environment in which participants can stretch and grow in their creative endeavors. The faculty is made up of internationally known songwriters, actors, music professionals, and songwriting peers.

Attending The Song School will help me in my personal artistic journey and give me the tools to help others. My confidence, sense of personal creative fulfillment and my art itself will be impacted from the instruction, support and mentoring I receive. Also, I will have the opportunity to observe how to construct an open, creative learning environment, observe how instructors nurture their students’ creativity, and discover techniques for “out of the box” writing instruction which can be directly applied to my classroom teaching. The Song School’s model of mentoring relationships, supportive critiques, and a framework for collaboration are all things I can reproduce in my classroom both now and in the future.

However, I do not want to wait until I have completed my course of study here at Hastings College to put what I learn at The Song School to use. In the fall of 2008, I would like to host a grant-funded songwriting workshop for local high school students. The workshop will be free and open to any interested Hastings-area young writer. Using current and forging new contacts with private and school-based music teachers, I will distribute informational flyers inviting young writers to participate. Ideally, the workshop will be on a Saturday in September or October on the Hastings College campus. We will meet 9 AM to 5 PM, students to bring a brown bag lunch, drinks and snacks provided. I will design a curriculum and activities based on what I learned at The Song School, modified for the time frame, age group and number of participants.
In this direct way, I can pass on what I have learned from The Song School.

Hopefully, attending the songwriting workshop will help young writers find joy in self-expression and fulfillment through music, which they can, in turn, pass on. In the long term, as a classroom English teacher, I can use these same techniques to inspire my students, and fuel their dreams--even a dream as unlikely as being an English teacher and a rock star.

Budget
The Song School tuition/camping fee: $450.00

Meals (three per day @ $10/ six days): $180.00

Mileage (423 miles one way x2 @ $.048/mile) $406.08

Fall Songwriting Workshop (publicity, materials, refreshments, etc.) $100.00

Total: $1,136.08

Good Friday

2008-03-21T19:31:00.000-07:00

Today, Good Friday, was sunny and clear. Tomorrow is supposed to be rainy and cold. Upon hearing the weather forecast Phoebe said, and I quote: "It's too bad tomorrow isn't Good Friday. The weather would really reflect the religious goings on."

More Vid Fun, This Time from The Onion

2008-03-20T18:12:00.001-07:00

In The Know: Is The Government Spying On Paranoid Schizophrenics Enough?

Just in Time for Holy Week

2008-03-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

This is one of those things that makes me think to myself "I probably shouldn't think this is so funny." But, after watching it 20 times on youtube and laughing myself silly, the honest thing to do is admit that I think it is REALLY REALLY funny and share it with you. Watch for this: "there's that. there's that."--that's the part that gets me.

Poems

2008-03-04T12:51:00.000-08:00

If you should happen
to turn your hair platinum
you'll never need to get
a helmet

* * * * * * * *
Said Fido to his owner Jack
"Let us try a different tack
I throw the stick, you bring it back."

* * * * * * * *
I saw a storm come rollin' in
upon a wagon wheel.
I saw a strom a'brewin'
seafood stew with eels.
I saw a storm a'ragin',
yelled with all he had.
And then the storm dropped great big tears.
How sad.

Because It's Fun

2008-02-12T21:04:00.000-08:00

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet, current car):

Sambo Odyssey
2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME (fave ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe):

Bunny Tracks Chucks
3. YOUR NATIVE AMERICAN NAME (favorite color, favorite animal):

Brown Greyhound
4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, city where you were born):

Elizabeth St. Louis
5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME (the first three letters of your last name, first two of your first name):

Dunem
6. SUPERHERO NAME (2nd favorite color, favorite drink):

Orange Snowflake
7. NASCAR NAME (the first names of your grandfathers):

Orville Harry
8. STRIPPER NAME ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy):

Shi Whachamacallit

(uh, not so much on this one)

Second Place: Downy Whachamacallit

(I'm not sure why it's gross but...gross!)
9. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (your fifth grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter):

Ogles Orlando
10. SPY NAME (your favorite season/holiday, flower):

Summer Gerbera
11. CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now):

Apple Socks
12. HIPPIE NAME (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree):

Muffin Willow

Thanks to Jill from whom I stole this list.

I Baracked The Vote @ The First Ever Nebraska Democratic Caucus

2008-02-11T18:23:00.000-08:00

The Nebraska Democratic Caucas was Saturday night and I still can't get over it. It was a fabulous experience. Hopi versed me on the Iowa Caucus, so I had an idea of what it would entail, but I wasn't prepared for just how exciting it would be.

I drove out to the Adams County Fairgrounds at 5:30. The place was already hopping. I read that they were hoping for 200-250 people. There were well over 100 when I arrived. I filled out a little blue half-sheet caucas registration form at the door. There were folks handing out stickers as we walked in and I took an Obama sticker from a city councilwoman. Until that point I was still feeling 85% Obama, 15% Clinton, but it was time to make the leap. Kathy smacked that Obama sticker on.

I took my little blue sheet around a partition to the registration tables that were arranged alphabetically. My academic advisor registered me (I knew probably 7 of the 10 volunteers at the tables), gave me a name tag with my precinct on it and directed me toward my precinct (3C) table. Each Adam's county precinct had its own round table, with folding chairs around it and posters & such for each candidate strewn about it.

I met my neighbors. There was no one yet at the table whom I knew, but since the precincts are geographical, they all live near me. We made introductions and chit chat as we watched the room fill up. It was just amazing. More and more people kept coming! I saw all my professors (two of whom it turned out are in my precinct, husband and wife, split on candidates) and everybody who I hoped would appear two hours later at the Listening Room Show--about 75% of our audience was there! I saw friends from school and a few from church. It was like a Who's Who of fun people in Hastings.

Those of you readers who live in Metropolitan areas probably can't imagine how crazy this was for us. Nebraska is such a red state that in the last presidential election I wondered if there was even a point to voting. Did my one Democratic vote count in the sea of Republicans? In the last presidential election I did not see a SINGLE tv ad for a candidate. Neither Kerry nor Bush wasted their money campaigning here when it was a given that Nebraska would go red. It made me feel sort of useless and isolated. This time Obama is running tv ads here. I got calls from both Obama and Clinton's campaigns--and I mean actual people on the phone, not recordings. They want MY vote. I count. God bless America.

And then to have over 500 people come to the fairgrounds to caucas....it was like a coming out party. No more closets for the Democrats! We all marveled and said "it's not just me! look at us all!" An announcement was made that they were running out of registration sheets and the place went nuts with applauding and cheering. An announcement was made that there was a red BMW in the parking lot with its lights on, followed by "I didn't think there were any Republicans here" and we all giggled and clapped.

At about 6:15 it was time to get down to business. Our temporary chairman said we needed to elect a permanent chairman (we picked him because he clearly knew what he was doing) and a secretary (easily done). We counted off to verify how many of us there were in precint 3C (there were 18). Then by show of hands we voted Clinton, Obama or Uncommitted. It came out 11 Clinton, 7 Obama, 0 Uncommitted. We arranged ourselves into groups.

In other precincts where there were uncommitted voters, each group selected a spokesman to speak on behalf of its candidate to try and persuade the uncommitted to join their side. I heard that in some precints, particularly the larger ones, this was done rather formally. We had a friendly discussion, except for one Clinton supporter who accused us of not thinking a woman could do the job (we booed) and then said "...and Obama's values are not what our country needs!!" at which point her own group told her that she was way off-base and was no longer representing their point of view. Then the rest of us went back to our friendly discussion: youth verses experience and electibility. We mostly all thought it was a shame to have to choose between the two. No one changed sides.

Meanwhile, our chairman had his caculator out to figure how many delegates we would send to the county caucas on June 2. There was a formula that decided the ratio of Clinton delegates to Obama delegates, but the delegates from each precint needed to be 50/50 male/female or as close to it as we could get. People volunteered. The secretary looked over the chairman's paperworked an signed off. And that was the Nebraska Democtratic Caucus in Adam's County.

I did an informal poll and my precinct was the only one I heard of that went to Clinton--totally anecdotal. The county and the state went Obama. Obama won by a lot in Lincoln and Omaha and by a much closer margin out in the third district (which includes Hastings and the western chunk of the state).

I read online and in the paper about what a mess there was in Omaha and Lincoln. The number of participants WAY exceeded expectation and things sort of fell apart. I was really very proud of how well ours went--even with twice the attendance hoped for. It also made me so glad to live in a smaller community. It felt like home to walk around and see so many people I know--and to know that the delegates are my classmates and neigbhors and professors--not just random people. The volunteers knew what they were doing, the chairpeople were well trained, even though it was the first time it was done, and everyone seemed pumped to be a part of the process. It was a big party. A big political party :)

Whoa.

2008-02-05T14:46:00.000-08:00

Out of the Blue (I'm a star like Debbie Gibson!)

2008-01-20T22:09:00.001-08:00

Acid Planet is a website where musicians can posts recordings of their songs. People log in, listen to music and write reviews of each other's work. There is some sort of chart system whereby people who get the most comments rise in the rankss. I joined in October of 2003 when I first figured out how to record on my pc. It was great fun, especially as a super newbie songwriter and performer, to hear comments from strangers on my music. Of course, the way the chart system is set up makes it sort of a mutual back-stratching society. I write a comment for you, you write a comment for me, we both rise in the charts. Frankly, I've never looked at the charts, but for a while I was sort of obsessed with Acid Planet. It was a way for my far away friends to hear what I was doing and for me to get some confidence boosts in the relative anonymity of cyberspace.

It's been two years since I've posted ANYTHING on Acid Planet. Maybe every six months I'll get an email that someone has reviewed a song and I think "OH! I forgot that was out there!" A couple days a go I got an email from Acid Planet saying congratulations, I had been included in an Acid Planet podcast. I thought hmf, whatever. And then I started getting review notice after review notice.

I just listened to the podcast. Okay, I listened until I heard myself (and thankfully, I'm the second song!). It was bizarro to hear the podcaster announce me like a dj and then play a song I posted two years ago and haven't even played since! And now, apparently people are listening to the podcast, then finding my Acid Planet page and listening to my music! Wierd! And a lot of it is old...and not so good!

If you want to hear the podcast click here. You can fast forward to about 5:50 to hear me. If you want to take a stroll down memory lane and listen to old Emily Dunbar "hits" (aka: mostly crappy home recordings but a few nice ones recorded by and with Jay Bayles--I recommend "did you not think of me") you can click here.

My New Hat

2008-01-17T18:28:00.000-08:00

From Interweave Crochet Winter 2007:

a rose by any other name still rocks the 80's synthpop

2008-01-11T13:12:00.000-08:00

In March The Listening Room is having its Artists in Residence concert featuring local songwriters including yours truly. Today I was working on a little bluegrass version of Bad Connection by Yaz that I'd like to play for the show. I love Yaz. Bad Connection. Don't Go. Only You. All fantastic British synth-pop gems which made a big impression on me in my youth. My sister had a copied cassette tape of Yaz's album Upstairs at Eric's. I listened to it over and over--I remember being in seventh or eigth grade when I first heard it, so 1987-88. I know 80s syth-pop doesn't seem to lend itself to bluegrass, but its gonna rock.

I don't know what my attraction to British synth-pop is, especially considering that I play acoustic guitar and now listen to mostly acoustic-based artists and bands. Those songs are just so catchy and I keep wanting to cover them. When I bought my accordion, the first song that I figured out how to play was Depeche Mode's song Just Can't Get Enough. Bad Connection and Just Can't Get Enough are two of my all time favorite songs.

I started wondering what happen to Yaz. I knew Yaz's singer was Alison Moyet because when the first Very Special Christmas album came out in 1987, she sang The Coventry Carol. I knew instantly who she was (though I didn't recognize her name on the cassette) because her voice is unmistakable. I heard nothing of Yaz until Only You made the finale of the BBC's The Office and showed up in Napolean Dynamite. I wanted to fill in the gaps so I went to Wikipedia.

Get this: Alison Moyet's partner in Yaz (know in Britain as Yazoo--who knew?!) was Vince Clarke. Vince Clarke started out in Depeche Mode. He WROTE Just Can't Get Enough (1981). Clarke quit Depeche Mode when they started getting big, formed Yaz and wrote Bad Connection, Only You, etc.! Yaz split in 1983. Clarke went on to start Erasure!

So, Vince Clarke is my new hero, my new 80's British synth-pop songwriting hero.

headlining ladies

2008-01-05T20:52:00.000-08:00

I liked Hillary in the debate tonight. I hate having to qualify that was thoughts about "electibility."
I can't believe Britney got sent to the funny farm and was then let out again.

living up to my potential

2007-12-19T09:52:00.001-08:00

With one semester under my belt, here in my seventeenth year of formal schooling, I have my first 4.0. I worked hard for it. I obsessed over it. And when my grades appeared on the Hastings College website I did a little nerd dance. I didn't obsess over the GPA itself, but over the individual A's. This is a new thing for me. I've always been sort of a slacker. I've always skated by with charm, humor and as little work as it would take to get me a 3.0. But a flip has been switched, my friends, and I love that 4.0.

In high school I knew I had to maintain the 3.0 for the sake of my parents (who would have preferred a 3.3 as that was the fabled cut-off GPA for the Tri Delts at Mizzou). But a 3.0 seemed right to me too--not stupid, not caring too much. I had no internal motivation to do any better and I carefully walked the line, balancing my C's in math and science with my A's in English and Spanish for a good solid B average. I had pom-pons and musicals to think about. I had boys to deal with with and spiritual crises. There was student council and zits and boobs out of proportion to the rest of my body. How could I really care about school?

In college I sort of floundered. It was hard to be away from home for the first time--figuring out how to do laundry, how to manage time, how to stay sane in a ridiculous sorority I never should have joined. I transferred after my freshman year and had to go through the adjustments all over again. I got by. I did fine. I just didn't really get it until, with two semesters left, I switched my major from Spanish to English and took almost nothing but literature courses until I graduated. My GPA shot up. I made a point to show up to class. I enjoyed writing papers. I got to know and like my professors. It was so great--and then it was over.

About a year ago, I was in a funk and had a hard time first identifying and then admitting what exactly it was I was feeling. Firstly, I was feeling unfocused. I spent my time doing a lot of worth-while and fulfilling things. I was raising my children, teaching Sunday School, leading book group, serving on the Library Board, working with the Listening Room and pursuing my hobby music career. All great things. But they were so scattered and varied and separate that they weren't building towards anything. That was becoming dissatisfying.

Secondly--this is the part that was hard to admit--I craved acknowledgement. Being a stay-at-home-Mom is the end-all, be-all of internal rewards. Of course it was rewarding! Of course Paul acknowledged my work and of course I could look at Phoebe, Mo & Ollie and see the fruits of my labor. Of course those things were true in a big-picture sense. But on a daily basis I could not measure and see if I was doing well. I got no paycheck that said "you're work is worth this much to our company and if you keep it up we'll give you more." And I know that all the volunteer work I have done is appreciated--I know I've made good contributions to organizations and enjoyed doing it and those who I served and served with think I've done a good job. But after eight years of stay-at-home/volunteering, I really needed a little external reward. I can only be so deep. I can only be so zen. I was ready to be complimented and petted and told that I'm great. I was ready for somebody to give me money! I was ready to have a clearly marked measuring stick and see how far up it I could reach.

So I am now grade-obsessed.

My hope is that this will fade. My goal, of course, is to learn, not just get good grades and I have learned a tremendous amount this semester. I really went in having no idea what the standards were or how my work would compare--I graduate from college twelve years ago! So I was anxious and eager to make sure I was up to snuff. It feels good to know that I am.

Dunbar vs. Martha Stewart Omnimedia

2007-12-15T09:10:00.000-08:00

It's on, Martha Stewart! You snagged my idea. You're goin' down.

Emily's T-Shirt Bag

Marth's T-Shirt Bag

Notice my post is is dated Aug. 5 and Martha's is dated Oct. 5.

jackpot

2007-12-04T14:07:00.000-08:00

In September I wrote my first-ever grant proposal on behalf of The Listening Room. Today I received a check for $5,000. O.MY.GOLLY.

wonders never cease

2007-12-01T09:44:00.000-08:00

It occasionally seems like this world has been entirely discovered. There is nothing new here. Every last inch of earth has been put under the microscope, poked, prodded, categorized and summed up on wikipedia and then...from the depths of the Pacific Ocean comes the Yeti Crab. I love this thing. I can hardly believe that it is real. I want one--because they so freaking cool--and because they prove that wonders never cease.

guilty, not guilty

2007-11-27T18:59:00.000-08:00

Today we found a man guilty of making terroristic threats and not guilty of third degree manslaughter. I got to be the presiding juror, which used to be, I think, the foreman. How cool is that?

After we had heard all the evidence and the closing statements, the judge read us our instructions. This took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes! They were very detailed instructions full of definitions of the law and what we could and could not consider during deliberation. We went into deliberation and were supposed to pick a presiding juror straightaway, but we didn't. We started discussing the case. Because for the whole two days we were unable to say anything at all about the trial to anyone, not even each other. So everyone just started gabbing. We needed to debrief. And laugh.

But then opinions began to take shape. And people were taking all kinds of things into consideration that were not specified in the instructions. This is how I came to be presiding juror; I was adamant that we stick to the rules. It didn't matter that this guy seemed like a jerk, or that guy was annoying. We had to stick to the evidence.

The events we were to consider took place on Aug 8. Apparently there was a similar incident on Aug 7 that was alluded to and discussed in part, though most testimony regarding it was stricken (struck?) from the record and we were told to disregard it. Of course we all wanted to know what happened that night. Of course it would have shed light on the events the next morning, but we were explicitly instructed not to take the night of Aug 7. into consideration. But that's what everyone wanted to talk about.

I kept referring back to our instruction booklet and reading the pertinent parts aloud (there were multiple copies, but not one for everybody). And then I went to the bathroom. And when I returned I was informed that I was the presiding juror.

We all decided pretty quickly that the defendant was guilty of terrorizing threats. The evidence was overwhelming. But assault? We went back and forth and back and forth. I was convinced one way and then completely changed my opinion. Round and round we went. Everyone was leaning toward guilty, but there was still doubt.

The definition of assault was to intentionally cause bodily harm OR threaten in a menacing manner. We sent a note to the judge asking for clarification of what "threatening in a menacing manner" meant. In the terrorizing threat charge, it did not matter if the victim actually felt scared or terrorized, only that the defendant intended for him to so feel. Our question was, in the assault charge, did it matter if the victim felt threatened?

Two guys have a fight. Evidence does not show that one or the other started it--it seems pretty mutual. The defendant runs inside and grabs a knife. When he comes back out the victim is getting on his bike and riding away. The defendant chases him down the street with the knife. In the victim's testimony, he does not mention the knife at all--he did not know the defendant (behind him while he was pedaling away) had a knife. Witnesses saw him with it. The defendant stated he had it. So was the victim just fleeing or was he fleeing because he was threatened in a menacing manner?

We wrote our question, knocked on the door, handed the note to the bailiff who took it to the judge. The judge read the note, conferred with the lawyers. We all convened back in the courtroom. She read us her reply. Gave us a written copy of it and we went back into deliberation. This took almost a half an hour.

The judge stated that to be threatened in a menacing manner meant to cause a rational person to be apprehensive of being harmed. After a little more discussion none of us felt that the state proved beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant intended to harm the victim or that he threatened him in a menacing manner, therefore we could not find him guilty of assault.

I had to fill out the form and sign it. I was the last to enter the court room. The judge asked me to stand and asked "Has the jury reached a decision?" I got to answer all her questions--yes we reached a decision, yes it was unanimous, etc. She read our decision and I verified that that was our decision. She asked the public defender if he wanted to poll the jury to ensure we were unanimous but he declined. And we were adjourned. The end.

The trail itself was fairly tedious and boring, but the deliberation process was fascinating. And that is probably more than you ever wanted to know about jury duty.

Tomorrow I go back to class and work. I have two ten page papers to write in the next week or so and three finals to prepare for. Yikes.

as much as I'm allowed to say

2007-11-26T20:47:00.000-08:00

Here is what, at the end of day one, I can tell you about jury duty:
The process was quite fascinating...until the trial actually started.
I'll be there from 9 to 5 tomorrow and possibly Wednesday morning.
CSI? Not so much. Keystone Cops? Much more like it.
As easy as it is to rag on serving, I feel pretty good about participating in democracy. I get very cynnical about patriotism at a time when I don't much care for my president, his administration or his war. I do, however, care for my country. So off I go in the morning to the district court to perform my civic duty.

and we're back

2007-11-23T20:50:00.000-08:00

1. I brined my Thanksgiving turkey. It started out poorly, but after a little trial and error I had the turkey in a bag, the bag in a five gallon bucket and the bucket in the refrigerator. I used a recipe from Martha Stewart (of course!) which included some very salty water, a bottle of wine, and various herbs and spices. Supposedly soaking it over night in the salt makes it juicy. Osmosis or something. Was it delicious? Yes. Was it better than previous un-brined turkeys? Hard to say.

2. Today Moses called Paul a "despicable miscreant." It was awesome.

3. It's snowing.

4. A couple of weeks ago in one of my classes we were discussing the Columbine High School shootings. My professor asked, "Where were you guys when that happened? At what stage of life were you then?" The general consensus: sixth grade. Yikes.

5. I have two 10-page papers yet to write this semester.

6. After receiving the same alarming email about five times regarding The Golden Compass and how it is the anti-Narnia and about "killing god" I really, really wanted it read it. So, I did. And I really, really liked it. It's very unsuspecting until the end, when it gets rather heretical--maybe sin is good. The church says sin is bad, but the church is bad, so why should we believe the church? Only, here's the thing--it's all happening in an alternate universe. The alternate universe is very much like our universe, but it is not our universe. The church has some similarities to our church, but it is not our church. And there is a quote from "the Bible" which is similar to our Bible...you get the picture. So, I understand the desire to be cautious. It would all be a little over my kids' heads at this point anyway. But, if they want to read it later (and they've seen previews and TOTALLY want to see the movie, but we have a solid rule about reading the book first) I might allow it, if we are reading it together and are able to discuss what it all means. I'm not so much for ruling a book out completely, but this book certainly would raise some deep theological questions in a thinking twelve-year-old reader, which could be good, could be bad. I'll probably take up the next book in the series over Christmas break.

7. Phoebe is reading Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban on her own. Constantly. It is so fun to see her hooked.

8. We are all listening to a book on CD called The Tale of Despereaux: Being the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup and a Spool of Thread. I LOVE it.

9. While we're on books, I really want a Kindle. Maybe. It was this quote from the Newsweek article by Steven Levy this week that really got me:

Microsoft's Bill Hill has a riff where he runs through the energy-wasting,
resource-draining process of how we make books now. We chop down trees,
transport them to plants, mash them into pulp, move the pulp to another
factory to press into sheets, ship the sheets to a plant to put dirty marks
on them,then cut the sheets and bind them and ship the thing around the
world. "Do you really believe that we'll be doing that in 50 years?" he asks.

10. I checked out a laptop from the library at Hastings College over Thanksgiving break. I think it's funny that I am able to do that. I sat at the Blue Moon and did research and wrote a paper. I still marvel at such technology: wireless, flash drives. It really changes the way school works. I bet all those punks who were in sixth grade in 1999 don't marvel at wireless and flash drives. They are too busy texting to marvel.

11. I went to McCook last week and played the opening set for a Tom Kimmel show at the Bieroc Cafe. I love going there. I hadn't seen most of the Bieroc crew since the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival. Good times.

12. As part of an assignment, I went to the HPS School Board meeting last Monday. It had all the usual board meeting blah blah blah which I'm very used to from being on the library board. However, it was a great night for future English teachers. The middle school english/language arts teachers were there in force and riled up becuase eigth grade reading has been taken out of the curriculum. As I understand it, there is currently specified reading instruction for all seventh graders and for some eigth graders. The proposed curriculum has eliminated it for all eigth graders, and these teachers want it, instead, for ALL eigth graders. My friend Deanna, seventh grade reading teacher, was first to speak (I had no idea this was going to be happening) and two other teachers followed. It was like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. They rocked. I want to be an English teacher!

This Friday

2007-10-21T06:21:00.000-07:00

The Listening Room Presents
SONiA & disappear fear
Friday, October 26 7:30 pm
Knights of Pythias, Hastings

Begun as a sister-act in Baltimore in the early 1990’s “disappear fear” quickly became a cult-favorite on college campuses and festival circuits. Now reconfigured with founding member and creative soul SONiA on vocals, keyboard and guitar and Laura Cerulli on percussion and drums, “disappear fear” continues to deliver their signature harmonies and folk-pop grooves with a message. Their latest album forays into world of world music with songs in four languages carrying the band’s ever-present themes of love, peace and equality. Emily Dunbar & Robin Harrell open the show.

Show starts at 7:30. Tickets are $12, table reservations are $10. Student tickets are $8. Soup & drinks available. Call Robin for info/reservations: 402/463-6248.

Upcoming Shows
Friday, November 9: Peter Mayer (poets Margaret Marsh & Brant Vodehnal open)
Friday, November 30: Tom Prasada-Rao & Cary Cooper (Andy Miller opens)

A Preview:

How do I act so well?

2007-10-05T04:59:00.001-07:00

A little clip for you today from the genius show Extras, in which Ricky Gervais (who created The Office) gets celebrites to play to worst versions of themselves. This clip is with Sir Ian McKellan. Andy (Gervais) is auditioning for a show McKellan (himself) is producing. Enjoy.

by the numbers

2007-09-30T09:52:00.000-07:00

number of miles I ran this week

102

score on my educational psychology test

number of papers I edited on Friday at work

number of individual tests I administered on Friday at work

36:31

my time in the 5k I ran on Saturday (slower than my previous time...which makes me think I heard it wrong and it was really 31:36)

episodes of Big Love we watched on dvd this week

number of grant proposals I wrote this week

number of research papers I am working on

surprise birthday gifts I received this week, more than a month after my birthday

(my boss bought me a Hastings College sweatshirt & Angela burned me a Sarah Sample cd and a live recording of Darrell Scott @ the RMFF and brought me flowers in a ceramic vase she made)

miles per hour the wind blew yesterday as we tried to eat a picnic lunch @ HC's homecoming

crawdads caught in the Platte River on Friday by Paul and the kids who had a day off from school

750

sack lunches we packed for The Open Table during Sunday School this morning

n/a

2007-09-06T16:12:00.000-07:00

Much to my surprise when I got the syllabus for my Literature of American Minorities class my professor pointed out the days she would be out of town--also knows as "the days Emily will teach class." I suppose this is what it means to be a grad student.

So today I taught class. We finished discussing Louise Erdrich's Love Medicine and began discussion of Sherman Alexi's This Is What It Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona. I also had to give a quiz. Writing the quiz was hard. I wanted to make sure they read but I didn't want to ask anything too obscure. Knowing I had to teach the text I read it a bazillion times and sort of lost touch with how much a first-time reader would comprehend and remember.

There were two problems with the quiz. Okay, wait--there was ONE problem with the quiz. Question nine was too vague. There were two problems with the ANSWERS to the quiz. The movie Smoke Signals is based on the story by Alexi. I asked what a character looked like because there was a very brief, specific description (broken teeth, ratty braids). People wrote things like "he wore lots of denim" (which made me laugh out loud) or "he was a nerd." I think they are describing the character's portrayal in the film. Boo.

The other problem was what these students did when they didn't know the answer. Some people made crazy stuff up in hopes that they just might hit the jackpot and get it right. But my favorite thing at least three people (in a class of 12) wrote as an answer to a quiz questions was "n/a" or "not applicable."

WHAT? "I don't know"? Maybe. Blank? fine. But "not applicable"?!

I have two responses.

1. Oh, so you think this question doesn't apply to you? Everyone else has to answer it but not you?

2. Is this an indictment of my quiz? You don't think the question applies to the text you just read?

In either case, I WILL DECIDE WHAT IS APPLICABLE HERE, FOLKS. GOT IT?

I was so amused.

School is going great. It's starting to get a little nutty. Work is picking up. I'm teaching one guy to type. I edit about 6 papers a day (that will definitely increase). I teach two sections of a Learning Lab twice a week. And today I taught my lit class.

Right now I am going to read my Educational Psychology text so that after the kids are in bed, Paul and I can watch Blades of Glory. See? I really am a college student.

First Days of School

2007-08-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

Last Tuesday the kids started school. Phoebe is in third grade, Moses is in first and Oliver started Kindergarten. This morning I started graduate school.

Gillian Welch, Ray LaMontagne & Darrell Scott

2007-08-16T06:33:00.000-07:00

These are a few of the artists I will be seeing at the Rocky Mountain Folk Festival for which I am leaving in 2 hours. Oh SNAP! I get to leave the fam at home, road trip with my pal Angela, camp in the mountains, drink New Belgian beer, dip my toes in a stream, strum my guitar and hear some fantastic music.

My excuse for not posting all week: facebook. Facebook is the best thing ever. I have to look at it 100 times a day. It makes myspace seem like child's play.

I'll post when/if I return.

37:44

2007-08-11T09:16:00.000-07:00

I ran the Kool-Aid Days 5k this morning. I was anxious once I got there because most everybody there looked like thin, fit, runners. Why this surprised me, I'm not sure. Luckily my friend Phil ran and his parents came to cheer him on so I had folks to hang with before it started. And they cheered me across the finish line.

There were two other women who ran at my pace. One was a bit ahead of me the whole time and the other would pass me and then I'd pass her and then she'd pass me. To my great surprise the woman who was a bit ahead of me won second place in our age bracket. That makes me a THIRD PLACE runner. Who knew?

I asked Phil how he ran (earlier I asked him if he wanted to hang back and run with me and he did his best not to laugh in my face). He said he started to dry heave near the end so he must have run hard.

Never mind that the guy who finished first was in the 50+ category and ran it in 15 something. Never mind that Phil finished in 17 something. Never mind that I still can't run the whole three miles. It was a very encouraging morning. I'm so glad I did it. I can't wait for the Duck Days run.

ridiculously bountiful

2007-08-10T19:43:00.000-07:00

Todd and Cody showed up last night at 9:30 with a trunk full of basil. A trunk full of basil. Cody tried to get me to take three garbage bags full. Three garbage bags full. I talked her down to one hefty bag.

She planted something like 40 linear yards of basil at her in-laws house. This was her second harvest of the summer. She just went after it with hedge trimmers, stuffed it into garbage bags, and then drove around town making deliveries to her lucky friends.

So today was pesto day. I harvested my garlic from the yard, stocked up on provisions at Allen's, busted out the Kitchen Aid mixer, and basically, made pesto all day long. The recipe I use calls for 2 cups of packed basil leaves. I made twenty batches. My freezer is full of pesto. We'll have pesto all year. I still have a collander full of basil leaves (but I'm long since out of olive oil, etc). And Cody will have another harvest before growing season is up.

So tonight it was pasta & pesto with a nice Gewurztraminer. Fantastic.

bummer

2007-08-08T05:03:00.001-07:00

I got up when the alarm went off at 6:15. I walked straight to the front door to see if it was raining. It was not. It clearly had rained, but it was not currently raining. So, I went down to the laundry and sorted the clothes in the drier so I could find my favorite running pants and Enell bra.

Let's pause a moment to talk about the Enell bra. I paid $70 and waited 6 months for its arrival. It was totally worth it. Is it ridiculous to say a bra changed my life? Prior to seeing it Oprah's Favorite Things I could to some degree honestly blame the lack of a good bra for my lack of physical fitness. Ladies, if uniboob-making unsupportive sports bras have got you down, I recommend the Enell...and back to the story...

I took my clothes upstairs, got dressed, and put my contacts in. Then I started gathering the stuff I need--which is all right by the front door--my watch with the timer (for run4/walk1), my new tiny mp3 player, my drivers license so the morgue can identify me when I've been run over, the key to my bike lock and my water bottle.

I looked out the window and saw that it was still pretty dark out. And I've become a safety nerd. I don't have lights for my bike but I do have a reflective penny (I LOVE that word--like you wore in grade school gym class to form a red team and a blue team) so I dug it out of the closet.

I'm not really a morbid person, but sometimes I think the death of myself or a loved on must be eminent. For a person of faith, I have superstitious tendencies. Or maybe it's a belief in statistics. I just think that since I've never been in a major car accident, odds are one's coming soon. If I looked it up, wouldn't the statistics show that I should have one at some point? And someone dies...what?...every minute?...every second?...so, why shouldn't I expect itto be someone in my family? Why not me? My life is SO great, the other shoe should be dropping any moment.

So I put on the nerdtastic reflective penny and I put my license in my pocket to make it easier on the authorities if the penny doesn't work. I put all the stuff in my bike basket and open the garage door AND IT'S RAINING.

This explains blogging at 7am.

I guess I'll make coffee and watch The Today Show. Bummer. I should be safe, though.

runner

2007-08-06T06:21:00.000-07:00

The past five years have been a series of stops and starts, a series of declarations about how fit I'm going to be, followed by a burst of physical activity, followed by ice cream and lathargy. I never seem to be able to get it together.

Last spring I started talking to runners I know about running. It just seems like the most bang for your buck exercise-wise. There's no gym (yuck). There's no equipment (okay, shoes). You just go out the door and run and get the best possible cardio workout and burn calories. I like that. And then there is my brother who used to be the king of the couch. He's doing 100 mile bike races and running 10 miles a day. He qualified for the Olympic Trials in Fencing for Pete's sake. If all these other people are running and getting in shape--and they aren't necessarily people who have ALWAYS done it--why can't I?

Running the 5k at the youth gathering was a good motiviator. I searched online for training schedules and found one at about.com that looked good. I started three weeks before my trip running 1 minute/walking 1 minute for 3 miles. Then it increased. I'm still only at run3/walk1, which is how I did the race in Orlando. Two days before the trip I tried run4/walk1 and for the frist time I cramped up, felt misreable and went home early. I'm about ready to try it again, maybe tomorrow.

There are two more 5ks in town before school starts. I'm running both. I just bought a $30 mp3 player that is teeny-tiny to strap on to my arm when I run, which made this morning much more fun. I loaded Run-Friendly songs onto it, so I heard Brass Monkey (Beastie Boys), Closer to Free (BoDeans), Knock, Breathe, Shine (Jacob's Trouble), Multiply (Jaimie Lidell), Let's Go (The Cars) and Alfie (Lily Allen), to name a few--nice!

I've heard horror stories from friends who shall remain nameless about some pitfalls of running--namely the need for pitstops--and having to relieve oneself on the go. Maybe that would be more of a problem if I run longer distances. But really I can't see myself pooping in someone's front yard under any circumstances, though it has made me paranoid and I go to the bathroom three times before I go out the door.

All I know is that I am enjoying running. When I'm not running I think about when I will run next. It has been worth it to me to go to bed early so that I can get up and run. During the day I think about staying hydrated so I'll be set for my next run.

When I crossed the finish line in Orlando, much to my surprise, in the big crowd, there cheering for me were Danny, Lindsay and Jon. Lindsay (who I've known to run 2 marathons) asked, "Are you a runner now?" I gave some sort of non-comittal answer like "for this, I am." But now that that race is over and I am still running...and even though this maybe just another start followed by a stop...if Lindsay asked me again I'd say "Yes."

Mr. T-shirt Bag

2007-08-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

I am entering my first craftster challenge -- making reusable shopping bags with an eco-friendly slogan or design. I reconned my Mr. T t-shirt. He says, "I pity the fool who uses plastic bags." It is shown holding a big can of oatmeal, a bag of onions and four sweet potatoes.

I wanted something that was roughly the size and shape of a plastic shopping bag, but I also wanted simple, fast & easy.

Here's how I did it: I cut off the sleeves and bottom and made the neck hole an inch wider all around.I turned it inside out, folded the bottom like so, pinned and sewed. I turned the shoulders into handles by tri-folding them like a business letter and sewing them crosswise four times at one-inch intervals to hold the fold and reinforce. When I turned it right side out, I top stitched the bottom seam to reinforce.This one is holding a melon and a gallon of milk.

...and we're back

2007-08-03T16:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a month since I've posted. Call it my summer break. I initially planned to post again after our trip to Colorado. The Hinton/Swinger/Dunbar Clan met in Breckenridge for a week of family fun. It was great to have the 8 cousins together and to see my siblings and parents.

We came back to Hastings for two weeks. The kids had swim lessons everyday. Robin and I finished booking the Listening Room fall season. I wrote all the artists bios for our brochure. I had umpteen planning meetings for my upcoming trip to the LCMS National Youth Gathering. Then we drove to Indiana to stay with Paul's folks and chill on Oliver Lake (for which our Ollie is named) for a couple days. Last Wednesday Paul and I drove home and left them there. We had two days at home together with no children. We went to $1 beer/burger/fry night at The Reno with friends. We bought a 2007 Honda Odessey. We saw Live Free or Die Hard. I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows (OH MY GOSH is it great). I did some laundry and packed up.

Friday night/Saturday morning at 1am I met two other adults and fourteen high school kids in the church parking lot and we drove to Omaha where we caught a flight ultimately leading to Orladndo, Florida. Every three years the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod puts on a national youth gathering. This was my second trip as an adult leader. 25,000 teenagers plus their leaders and a slew of volunteers met in Orlando's Orange County Convention Center to worship, hang out, go to concerts, hear fantastic speakers, have Bible study, jump on bungee trampolines, do service projects, and all kinds of amazing things.

The theme was CHOSEN and we learned all about how God does not love us because we have value, but we have value because God loves us. It was a message of undeniable grace--freeing grace--and the kids learned so much and had a ball (as did I). I also got to see Ben and Jon and Stefan and Bill and all kinds of crazy Lutherans I wish I saw more often. Sweet. I also ran the 5k for which I've been training. 12 kids said they'd run; the night before we were down to 6; when 5:30 Sunday morning rolled around it was just Kasey, Cammie and I. Cammie and I finished in 36 minutes and Kasey in 25.

Now I'm back for two weeks and then my pal Angela and I take off for the Rocky Mountain Folk Festival. Can you say Gillian Welch and David Rawlings? Ray LaMontange? Chris Isaak? And so many more equally brilliant smaller names. Awesome.

As for today, it is our 11th wedding anniversary and in celebration we are making sushi. Wish us luck.

I'll try to keep posting. I miss it. I miss hearing from you guys.

seacrest out

2007-07-01T04:56:00.000-07:00

I've written a lot of stupid things, but that title may take the cake.

For the past three weeks I've been a real jerk about returning emails and phone calls. My sincere apologies to all whom I owe one or the other. I think it's just summer lethargy setting in...or that annoying busy-ness and frantic-ness that is caused by...what?...going to the pool and the library? I think I need a little more structure in my life than summer is giving me and all sorts of things are falling through the cracks. Sorry. I WILL call you. I WILL email you. I WILL get around to posting again...in about a week.

the modern world

2007-06-29T15:21:00.000-07:00

I have my own cell phone now. With my own phone number. We have entered the modern world. We figured with me being out of the home next year and moving from class to class (not sitting in an office somewhere) it would be good for me to have a cell phone. But Paul wouldn't want to be without one. It's how we do long distance. And he goes slogging through marshes on birdwatching adventures. I want him to have the phone with him. So now we have two. Mine is pink. We played with them for an hour last night: taking pictues of each other; making vocal recording to use as ringtones (Paul's has his voice saying "PICK UP THE PHONE!" It's pretty funny); spending a half an hour trying to get Paul's phone OFF speaker phone; calling each other (free mobile to mobile minutes!). It was worth the hour I spent in the alltel store with three children, trying to convince them we didn't need a cell phone that looked like a car and revved its engine when you opened it.

The only problem is no one will take my phone calls on the new phone. I let Paul hve the old number and I got a new one. That was stupid. Paul can't remember his own name but he could tell you every phone number he ever had or every address. I could tell you what I wore on the first day of school my freshman year of high school and the name of every girl who lived on my dorm floor but I don't know what 7x9 is. I wasnt' thinking straight when I had the guy assign the new number to the pink ($9.99!) phone and the old one to the silver ($9.99!) phone.

Maybe I'm rambling. We got home from the pool and I made myself a rum and coke. It was stronger than I intended. Our father's day gift to Paul was a stocked bar. And I mean STOCKED. The kids didn't exactly understand what the gift was. I told them it would be like buying me eggs and flour and sugar. I could make almost anything with that--so it is with all these bottles--Papa can make any drink he wants.

And I'm out.

Blog Tag. I'm it.

2007-06-28T16:53:00.001-07:00

Apparently I've been tagged. "Tagged?" you say? Why, yes. Jill got tagged to answer a question on her blog and she tagged me so I guess I'm it. Apparently it's my job to answer the same said question. So, here goes:

Five Things I Dig About Jesus

1. He became a baby

At a party over the weekend we were discussing getting older and how we aren't as freaked out about being in our 30's as we supposed we would. In fact, I really like being 32 and wouldn't go back to 22 if you paid me. To be so unsure of myself and my future? To be in my first year of marriage and not my 11th? To see my whole life looming before me and thinking every decision would hurl me down a path I couldn't turn back from? Yikes.

And then there is the God of the Universe who chose to be born a baby. To go from Lord of all Creation to having a teen-aged mother birth you in a barn and change your diaper. To be dirty and hungry and sick. To be dependant on people for everything. We think of the cross as a sacrifice, but just being born was one as well.

2. He put up with the bonehead disciples

In the past few years I have come to view the disciples as lovable dopes. I know I have the luxury of a couple thousands of years of hindsight, perspective and collective knowledge and I'm still a complete moron when it comes to most spiritual matters, but those guys...man. The parables are tricky to even the cleverest of folks, but even the most black and white stuff, with Jesus sitting right there in front of them, they just didn't get it. How could they understand what they were in the middle of? I love those guys. I love that those were Christ's guys--the boneheads.

3. Jesus is for Losers

The poor, the weak, women, the unclean, lepers, tax collectors, children, prostitutes--Jesus didn't care who you were. Still doesn't. The last are first. The meek inherit the earth. Thank goodness.

4. He took the crazy stuff in stride and didn't care what people thought

I taught high school Sunday school a few weeks ago. I always try to get them to read scripture as if they have never heard it before. You would think this would not be hard, considering many of them haven never heard it before. But they think it's all the same old stuff. We were reading the story about Jesus reclineing at the table of a Pharisee when a prostitute came in wailing, crying all over Jesus' feet and wiping them with her hair. Say what? I just kept saying, "Isn't that crazy?!? A HOOKER is wiping her hair and tears on his feet in the middle of a dinner party!" And Jesus was just like, "Alright. See how happy she is to be forgiven? Simmer down you disapproving Pharisee."

5. Grace

Finally!

2007-06-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

Finally! Finally, finally, finally! After...let's see...about 14 years of eligibility, my name was finally pulled up for jury duty. I'm on notice for Sept 1-Feb 29. I could have opted out as I am now a full-time student, but how could I? This is democracy at work, folks.

Everyone keeps saying that I'm too eager and they'll never pick me. Come on! I'll be a great juror. My fingers are crossed.

PS. This blog passed the one year mark on June 15. Crazy.

Media

2007-06-14T07:56:00.000-07:00

Reading:
Joy Luck Club--Amy Tan (booke group)
Persuation--Jane Austen
Middle March--George Elliot (second try this year, still didn't finish but got further)
Deliver Us From Normal--Kate Klise (book group)
A Prayer For Owen Meany--John Irving (book group and my all time fave, maybe the eighth--and most profound--reading)
The Last Battle--C.S. Lewis (finished the series with the kids)
Holes--Louis Sachar (read aloud with kids--they are loving it)
Some North African Cookbooks for Dinner & Movie "Casablanca"

Movies:
Persuation
Room With a View
The Sandlot
Shaun of the Dead
28 Days Later
The American Girls: Molly (Phoebe got the dvd with the book set, but we wouldn't let her watch until she'd read all six. Molly Ringwald played Molly's mom. I cried in the end, of course)
The Piano
Half Nelson
The French Connection
Unforgiven
Night at the Museum
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

TV:
Entourage (on dvd)
Hell's Kitchen (gracious me--it was a moment of weakness, working on a sewing project with no one home...and I liked it)
Last Comic Standing (or rather I tried to tape the premier last night to no avail, but I like this show and will watch it next week)
Freaks & Geeks (on dvd while I walk on the treamill)

Music:
all Pierce Pettis tracks on shuffle
all Mark Erelli tracks on shuffle
The Police Greatist Hits
The Cars Greatest Hits

And you?

Bible School Rock Star

2007-06-11T16:38:00.001-07:00

Would someone make me a t-shirt with that on it?

I know many of you have listened to the songs I have up on myspace and are aware that my super stardom is eminent. But before I go global, I have had a taste of celebrity here at home with Vacation Bible School.

Every year, the week before VBS starts, I think "I'm not doing this next year!" I'm a procrastinator, so on Saturday I end up scrambling to get my songs a) selected b) arranged c) lyrics organized for power point projection d) chords written out for my fellow guitarist Phil e) copyright & licensing info for songs researched and confirmed. These things are not that fun.

I completely forget that on Monday morning at 9:10 75 pre-school through second graders will file into the sanctuary. I will get to stand up in front with my guitar, teach them some fun songs with great content that reinforces the lessons for the day/week, and we will sing sing sing. And then at 11:00 75 third through sixth graders will file in for more of the same.

And while Monday is rough, especially with the little guys, for whom learning is slow going (the inability to read is a hindrance in this department) by Wednesday we are rocking. They know the songs well enough to lay off the teaching part, but it's new enough that they aren't bored yet.

Then Friday night is the picnic. We head to Chautauqua Park for games and food and then the program. The program is usually the recitation of memory verses, a few words about the week and then the songs. This year our sound guy didn't show so the program was music-only. We didn't need a sound system. There were 175 kids plus their high school aged leaders on the risers before me. They listened to me when I gave them instructions. They sang loud and clear. They KNEW those songs.

We had power point all week--very helpful, but also like a crutch--so come Friday night I was unsure how well they knew their stuff. But they sang out lyrics like "we are pressed but not crushed, perplexed but don't despair, we are persecuted but not abandoned" as if they were singing the ABC's it was great.

It was great because I felt like I did a good job. It was great because everyone seemed to have a fun week. And it was great because I worked hard to pick songs with great content--and thanks to the work Holy Spirit, I succeed;they learned all the words and; they will remember them, I'm sure.

Now when I go to the water park or Walmart or the library I am mobbed by kids. And usually I don't know who these kids are because I saw them 100 at a time, but they know me. I'm a Bible School Rock Star.

And is it any coincidence that the Monday after Bible school I get a call do do a gig at a nursing home? I don't think so. Rock star.

work in progress

2007-06-07T16:45:00.000-07:00

Our first mix of two songs here.

oh, so funny

2007-06-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

The use of the word "things" pushes me over the edge everytime. Enjoy.

webkinz

2007-06-01T10:32:00.000-07:00

Last fall I attended the Nebraska Library Association annual convention at the Qwest Center in Omaha. I'm on the Hastings Public Library board of trustees and this is the second year in a row I've gone to the convention.

This year the keynote speaker was a guy from Dynix. Dynix provides the catalogue software our library uses. He was fascinating. His main point was to get the middle-aged librarians to embrace technology and understand the younger technosavvy generation.

He called the kiddos native-internet users. They have always had the internet. Like a native English speaker I was never taught to conjugate the verb "walk." I was immersed in English speaking culture and when I was able to speak I said, "I walk but he walks." That's how kids are with computers and the net. Nobody taught them (in a way they will ever remember) how to move a mouse and left click or right click. They've always done it.

I wish I had recorded the whole thing because I think about it a lot and would love to hear it again. The one thing that struck me as a parent was this: He said that it has been a trend for educational-minded parents to keep their kids away from video games, but at this point in history, parents who do that are actually doing a disservice to their children. Children will need internet/gaming skills to operate effectively in this world we are creating for them.

Hmmmm.

He's got a point there. I use the internet for everything. It is my main source of information, of correspondence, shopping, whathaveyou. And website are only going to have more and more graphics and game-like interfaces.

My mom sent each of my kids a Webkinz. They are stuffed animals--cute, normal stuffed animals. BUT they come with a secret code. You log onto the Webkins site, punch in your secret code and adopt your cyber pet--the online counterpoint to your stuffie. At first this sounded like WAAAAY more trouble than it would be worth to get the kids hooked into this.

Then I remembered the Dynix guy. And I thought of what the world will look like when these guys are in highschool. And I remembered the bank of computers at the library.

Last week we rode bikes to the library and they each adopted their pets (and found a cockatiel on the way home). It was laborious. It took a long time for each of them to sign up, establish a profile, come up with usernames and passwords--all for ME to remember. But we did it.

Last night I called the library and reserved a computer for each of them at 9:30. It's been raining all day, which made it perfect. Their computers were all in a row. After I got Phoebe logged on she didn't need any help--reading is a magical thing--she could figure it all out. I got Mo and Ollie logged on and pulled up a chair between them.

They spent an hour playing games to earn Webkinz Cash, which they'd use at the W Store to buy food, furniture, clothes, wallpaper, whatever for their Webkin. They gave their virtual pets baths, which was pretty cute. They did a mining game where if they found diamonds they had to decide if they wanted to keep the diamond or sell it for Webkinz cash.

The games were pretty silly--some Webkinz versions of Pong and Tetris. But I just kept thinking about how even if the games are un-educational, the computer-literacy gained is huge. Now Ollie knows that to close out of a screen or a dialogue box you hit the X or "okay." Moses knows that if you click on the rectangle with a little arrow you get a drop down menu then you click what you want to do. Phoebe knows if she gets to a screen she doesn't want she can always hit the "back" button. And they didn't even know they were learning anything. They've played games on the computer before, but this is the first web-based game exposure.

I questioned the money-focus of the games. It seemed a little iffy to me to have the point of everything be to earn cash and buy stuff. But it was all about choices. Am I going to buy wallpaper or food for my pet? Am I going to buy the $2000 bed that looks like a rocket or the $300 wood frame bed?

So, this will be one of our weekly summer activities. Webkinz. Who knew?

Summer

2007-05-29T17:00:00.000-07:00

1. School has been out since Thursday and we haven't killed each other yet.

2. The pool opened Saturday and we've been everyday dispite the fact that the temp has remained under 80 and closer to 60. I have yet to put on a swimsuit. I told the kids I could either read my book, fully clothed, at home or in the shade at the pool. They picked pool. They had a teeth chattering good time.

3. I just finished A Prayer For Owen Meany--my all time fave. I just started Austen's Persuation, which is no Pride & Prejudice but I'm getting into it.

4. I put the final touches on my song selection for VBS. This is the fourth year I've done music. This means teaching and leading songs for about 100 pre- through 2nd graders and then about 100 third through sixth graders. Here's the lineup:
And Can It Be--Charles Wesley hymn. I rewrote the melody to the first half of the verses (to make it accessible to small people and people [me] who find it hard to lead songs and play guitar at the same time--so not the same thing as performing).
Can't Nobody Do Me Like Jesus--only we're saying "love me like Jesus." I believe the vernacular has changed since the song's inception. I don't want to sing about Jesus doing me.
Let My Light Shine Bright -- camp song, call and response, hardy Yee-haw!
Go! -- from Scripture Rock, which is now out of print and was mediocre to start, except for this song. The text is basically the great commission. Nice.
The Word -- Sara Groves. She is about the only pop Christian music I can take these days. We're not singing the whole thing--just bits.

5. We've started the Dunbar Family Push Up Challenge. We all did push ups last night and recorded our starting ability. We'll check in every Monday night and whoever score increases the most by percentage will win something. The kids wanted candy, but we thought that defeated the purpose. I had a hard time explaining percentages--that it's not who does the most that wins. Very confusing.

6. I went to the Heavy Petting Zoo today. Okay, it was the Heavy Equipment Petting Zoo at the Library where the kids could climb on bulldozers, tractors, an ambulance, a firetruck, a semi, a hum-v, whathaveyou. Good fun.

7. Jon & Hope live in Iowa, which is for all practical purposes as lame as Nebraska, except that a caucus is looming there. So, they can go to the Pizza Palace and have Hillary Clinton kiss their new baby and sit down at their table for a few minutes. And Hopi can go to the local high school and sit with a kid on each knee and ask Barak Obama questions about immigration policy. We don't even get presidential campaign advertising here because neither side wants to waste money on a state that is without-a-doubt Republican (cough, gag, roll eyes, point finger to temple, etc).

8. It is time for the nightly after-dinner family walk.

9. Hope you are enjoying your summer so far!

first day, last day

2007-05-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

My, oh my, what can change in nine months! It is only fair to point out how cute Phoebe's hair is now, since I made a point of discussing it earlier. Very cute.

strange things are afoot at the circle k

2007-05-24T14:16:00.000-07:00

You know you're a loser when you find yourself quoting Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure.

Two Days, Two Extraordinary Events

Yesterday:

I had dinner, I kid you not, a the home of a prince. I will leave you hanging with that small amount of information, but I mean that description quite literally. We had delicious middle eastern food, that I LOVE and is usually hard to come by in my neck of the woods and -- as you can imagine -- very interesting and delightful conversation.

Today:

We were riding bikes home from the library and stopped for a moment outside the courthouse because Mo had a minor crash. There was a great ruckus from the tree overhead. Down flew a beautiful cockatiel. He landed on the sidewalk beside me and when I bent down and offered it, he flew up onto my finger. Obviously, this was someone's pet. Obviously, we should help it because this prettyboy was about to get a whoopin' from the starlings and grackles on the means streets of south central Nebraska. But there we were--on bikes. An Adams County employee came out and said she'd call the animal shelter and/or take it home--she has two cockatiels already. The bird hopped from my hand to hers and off they went into the courthouse.

Tomorrow: I'll keep you posted. I might be on a roll.

inch worm

2007-05-19T21:16:00.000-07:00

Susan posts video on her blog. The thought had never occurred to me that I could use my camera for video and post it. Technology is nuts.

If you've never met Mo, I should explain that he is neither hoarse nor sick. That's how he always sounds. That is how he sounded when he was 10 months old and said "mama" and "ball" for the first time.

Without further ado, here is a little moment from my day.

no way did that just happen

2007-05-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

Last night was my guitar recital. Guitar recitals are a lot of fun. We all sit in Robin's living room. Everyone steels their nerves with just enough alcohol to relax and still play. All Robin's students (and this recital is just adults) usually get a new song at every lesson, and many of us get the same songs...or newer students are playing songs that more advanced students have played in the past...however it works out, it works out that most of us know each other's songs. And most of us sing harmony--or at least sing along--on every song.

I played two really hard David Wilcox songs in open C tuning: Rusty Old American Dream and his arrangement of Same Old Song. Neither went off without a hitch, but it was fun. I also played a song I wrote in open C called Sarpy County. Or maybe it's called Thunderstorm Warning. Possibly, Thunderstorm Warning in Sarpy County, but that seems a bit long.

There was lots of Patty Griffin--Trapeze, Heavenly Day, Never Give Up. There was some Mindy Smith, Dar Williams, John Mayer, Townes VanZandt. Not those actual artists, but lovely covers of their songs. We joked and laughed, played and sang. That's what I call a good night. Throw in mojitos and frozen margaritas and well...fantastic.

After the formal (which is a very relative term) portion of the evening my friend Mary asked if I would play Boone's Farm Wine for her. I was sitting on the couch eating a cookie, like the one pictured above, and holding my guitar. I looked around for a place to put the cookie, but there was no coffee table and I didn't want to set it on the couch or floor. So, I did what any classy broad would do--I tucked it behind my ear like a pencil.

I played BFW, which is always a crowd pleaser, and those who were still around sang along. Then Barb asked me to play a song I wrote as an assignment, that I guess Robin told her about called Morbid Girl.

Morbid Girl is a song about my screwy philosophy that if I imagine terrible things they cannot happen. The chorus says, "I don't believe in psychic ability. I don't believe in ESP. I just believe the more I imagine the less it can happen to me." That's very logical. I am not psychic. I can't tell the future. So if I think "today Paul will die in a car crash", logically speaking, he can not die in a car crash. The verses are lists and lists of all the terrible things that might happen ("the asthma attack without an inhaler, the white-picket turned impaler").

I couldn't really remember the chords or the words to this song. I was fumbling through it --playing a little, talking through the parts that were sketchy in my memory. I looked down at my fingers while playing and--as if in slow motion--the cookie slipped out from behind my ear, fell end over end and landed, I kid you not, INSIDE my guitar. That giant cookie somehow got past my strings and into my sound hole.

There was a split second of stunned silence and then...well, I can't remember when I've laughed so hard. It took FOREVER to get it out. I didn't want to shake it into cookie crumbs--that can't be good for my under-saddle pickup! I held it above my head and Robin reached in as best she could and tried to fish it out. We finallyI shook it out onto the carpet, but there are still crumbs rattling around in there. At least it's not meat or dairy based.

If only I'd thought to include a line in my song about a Pepperidge Farm Piroutte falling into my guitar, it never would have happened.

thrill ride

2007-05-15T10:39:00.000-07:00

I used to be somewhat of a thrill seeker. I've never shied away from a roller coaster or ride. I've bungee jumped. I've rappelled. I've flung myself out of tall trees on high ropes courses. I've downhill skied. I've waterskied. All good fun.

Since becoming a parent, I've had no desire to thrill seek. Maybe it would have happened with age anyway, but having Phoebe eight years ago put an end to most unnecessary dangerous activity. When I was pregnant in England I was really paranoid about crossing the street. It had a lot to do with them driving on the left and me never being sure where the traffic was coming from, but also it had to do with the fact that this little fluttering life inside my belly was depending on ME to nourish, care for it, and walk it home safely. I obeyed the traffic lights ABSOLUTELY. Unless it said "walk" I was glued to the corner, though crowds of annoyed British commuters went around me, I stayed put.

I wouldn't say I'm paranoid. I certainly would NOT say I'm no fun. I just think about things more. I weigh the fun of a few minutes against the fact that three little people depend upon me. I no longer want to go sky diving, which had been a long term goal of mine. This summer at Universal Studios I'll ride the rides, but I probably won't go on the ferris wheel at the carnival in the K-Mart parking lot over Memorial Day weekend.

It's not just the fear of leaving my children motherless that makes me play it safe, it's the fact that the kiddos are watching. If I don't wear my bike helmet, they won't. If I don't wear my seatbelt, they won't. If I don't wear flip-flops so as not to burn my feet on the asphalt in the pool parking lot, they won't either. I'm not only a caretaker. I'm an example.

Yesterday afternoon I had a library board meeting. I set out on my bike at a few minutes after four. By the time I got to the library, fifteen minutes later, the sky was dark and scary. I called Paul and asked him to take the cell if he went anywhere because I'd probably call for a ride home. We all looked nervously out the window during our meeting. Several people offered me and my bike a ride home. I said I'd wait and see, because unless it was raining, I'd really like to ride.

The meeting ended and it was just starting to sprinkle. The sky looked awful. My colleagues thought I was nuts and trying too hard not to be a bother, but I got this question in my head: can I beat the storm home? Well, I had to find out.

There was distant lightning. I'm not stupid. If I thought I might get struck I would abandoned the bike ride. But was distant. The wind was strong and cold. I hoped on my bike and hauled ass. Every minute I could feel the air getting colder and the rain coming a little harder.

When I stopped at the light at Burlington and Ninth I could see drivers looking nervously at me. But I also could see a few joggers who hadn't made it home yet and a couple of bikes down various side streets. I wasn't the only one out. I was one mile from home.

I sped down the only hill in town (and by hill I mean long, five-block, very gradual slope--Nebraska is great for bike riding) grinning like a Cheshire cat. This was fun. At Ninth and Baltimore the sprinkle had turned to rain. Half mile to go. My pants were soaked. I wasn't cold, though, because I was pedaling so hard.

I thought to myself that this is the sort of thing Paul normally does and I normally find annoying. He gives himself a difficult but unnecessary challenge, that could end badly. If the tables were turned I would be rolling my eyes and saying, "For Pete's sake, just let me pick you up! You don't have to ride in the rain!" But so far I was doing okay. I was having a blast. I was beating the storm. I figured I would get home just in the nick of time.

In front of the Methodist Church (quarter mile from home) the rain took on a sleety quality. I began to wonder if I would have to seek shelter from hail on somebody's porch, but I pedaled on, still grinning, exhilarated by the race. I crossed Ninth and rode up my neighbor's driveway onto the sidewalk and in the process dislodged the basket on the front of my bike. So I had to stop. I was literally in my backyard and I had to stop. I tried to hook it back on, but I couldn't get it, so I held it wobbly in one hand and continued to ride as the rain came down harder.

I ditched the bike in the garage and ran inside. By the time I had said hello to everyone and changed my clothes there was furious lightning and thunder and the rain was blowing in horizontal sheets. I was wet and cold and tired but I had beat the storm--thank goodness. And I was very pleased with myself.

art

2007-05-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

I haven't been in to record for almost three weeks. I hit some sort of wall. I just got so bored of sitting in that little room by myself, pushing record and singing into the mic take after take. Ugh. What I got down is technically fine. There's a strong signal. It's clear. No one but me would notice the small mistakes in the final take. Todd says once we start mixing it will become a totally different animal--the mixing is where the magic happens. But to me it all seems flat. Once I realized (a few weeks ago) that I would not have a cd to sell at my Listening Room gig last Friday, I eased up. I gave myself a break, from which I have not returned.

Then Sunday night I played at the Blue Moon. Everybody did a little set. I was in the middle. Mostly people did solo or duet stuff. Jay sat in on drums for most. And mostly it was mellow folk music. Don't get me wrong, I love mellow folk music. Most of what I play is mellow folk music. But this last batch of songs I've written (and, really, many of the songs I've written) have a strong pop leaning. They are "up". So I was thrilled to have Jay there. And Jay called John up to play bass--even better.

We hadn't rehearsed any of this. I wasn't even sure what I was going to play. I started with a new one called "Catch it when you can." It rocked. Then Robin came up and we sang another peppy new song called "Boca 1979" to which the lyrics are actually incredibly creepy and sad. It rocked. We then pulled "Econolodge" out of the recesses of our memory. Guess what. It rocked. Robin sat down and I finished with "Box of Letters" which I'd always wanted to play with a band.

That was THE MOST FUN I had had with my music in...forever. I felt energized. I felt inspired. I thought, I want to write songs for a guitar, bass, drum combo! And most of my songs really lend themselves to that bar band alt-country feel. It was so great. I'm sure it didn't SOUND fantastic to our listeners because it was totally on the fly with me shouting at John off mic "here comes the bridge! it goes to C!" or "in the next verse, guitar and bass drop out but keep a beat going, Jay!"

It was an epiphany. I need to change horses in midstream here. I think I need to go record live at Jay's with Jay and John. I can't go back to that little room by myself. Jay has an analog recording set up. It's not as high tech as Todd's and has a less polished, radio-ready sound to it. But I think I will gladly trade that out for an inspired sound and for ENJOYING myself doing it.

I have these nagging inner voices, though. They say, "oh, so suddenly you're a temperamental artist? and you can't create your art unless it's under the right conditions? get over yourself." It is hard for me to admit to myself that I'm a musician. To say "I'm a songwriter" and not "I've written a few songs." I don't know why it is, but it is hard to say that music is art and art is not like math where the answer comes out the same every time. Just putting in the time and practice and pushing the right buttons on the digital recorder does ensure (insure?) that I will have a product I can be happy with at the end of the day (month, year, God help me). Art does require inspiration. It is completely personal. It is about self expression and if I want to produce art (yes, please) I need to create a situation where I fell inspired, comfortable, and..well..psyched. I have to deliberatley grant myself permission for this.

Why do I resist that? Why do I feel like it's silly?

I don't feel like I've wasted my time recording at Todd's. It's all about lessons learned, right? So, I am learning what works for me and what doesn't work for me. I wasn't going to have a cd for my May show, anyway...so, we'll start over at Jay's this summer and hopefully, by the time I start school in August I will have a sweet, rockin', album of songs with my bar band. Oooh, I get excited just thinking of that.

I do of course need to get a couple songs recorded to send into a festival contest I want to enter. I've entered before with no success...but this may be my year...you never know.

Friday

2007-05-04T11:04:00.000-07:00

1. Tonight I open for Storyhill at the Listening Room. I'm playing five new songs, including one I wrote this week. That might be a really stupid idea, but what can you do? Robin is singing harmony on one. I had hoped I could get Jay-The-Busdriver to play drums for me, but we couldn't get our schedules to match up, but that's okay because....

2. Sunday night I'm playing at the Blue Moon. The Listening Room is hosting The Thing in May. The Thing was started by Margaret because...what's happening on Sunday nights? Since, February, The Thing has been happing. From 7-9 there's music. It'll be me, Robin, Jay, Peter...I think Carla and a few others. So Jay and I can play together then.

3. Paul arrived safe and sound last night. He was pleased to report that on one tank of gas the Fit broke the 4o miles-per-gallon barrier. Take THAT global warming!4. Kids have been skateboarding on the church sidewalk/stairs, directly across from my front porch. This makes me very happy. I want to sit and watch but I'm afraid they'll think I'm staring with disapproval...and I can't think of a way to be welcoming without feeling like a total dork. Anyway, I love it.

5. I have a new nephew named Joseph William Dunbar. Congratulations, Jon & Hopi. Can't wait to meet him.

6. Have a lovely weekend.

two side to every story/practice makes perfect

2007-05-03T06:44:00.000-07:00

I was just in the principals office. I went on my own initiative. Last night we were at the playground and Moses smilingly said, "You know what happened at school today? Mrs L (the substitute) took my shirt off in front of the whole class!" I asked why she would do such a thing. "My shirt was on inside out and backwards." And off he ran.

Now, anyone who knows Moses or has seen him from one day to the next knows that something is always on inside out and or backwards: pants with the fly in back, shirts with the pocket logo on his shoulder bade, whathaveyou. Sometimes I point this out before he leaves for school and my comment is met with a shrug or an "I know." Sometimes teachers have told me that they pointed it out to Moses and got the same reaction. He just doesn't give a rip. Fine by me.

I thought taking a child's shirt off in class seemed a bit much, but Moses said it like it was a funny and exciting story so I said nothing. But I found myself thinking about it...thinking, "at least it was Moses and not some other kid." Which is totally unfair to Mo. He shouldn't get the lion's share of weird treatment because he's well-adjusted. And later I thought that a teacher would never do that to a girl in class. And how hard would it have been to say, "go to the bathroom and turn your shirt around"? And why, with 25 six year olds to teach did she care about the state of Mo's shirt? But these were all fleeting thoughts which disappeared instantly into a game of tag.

This morning at 7:05 the phone rang. For a split second I was 100% sure it was the Missouri Highway Patrol calling to tell me Paul was dead. But it was another kindergarten mom calling to make sure I had heard about the shirt-taking-off-incident. Now, this woman is a friend of mine. Her kids and my kids spend a lot of time together. There are load of things I love about her--however--she is a bit of a drama queen and gets really worked up about things that don't ruffle my feathers at all. She said her daughter felt so bad for Moses because all the kids laughed and his faced turned red. And it all just seemed "not right" to her.

I said Moses mention it in pasing: that he didn't seem upset; but, that it did seem strange to me. I thanked her for her concern, because, frankly, though I'd thought about it a little last night, I had totally forgotten about it.

But then I was in a quandary. It hadn't stuck out in my mind as worth pursuing. Was I going to be manipulated into creating drama where there is none by my friend? This is something I have to be deliberate about or I find myself sucked in. Or am I going to ignore a situation I should really look into in an over-zealous fit of anti-manipulation?

I asked Moses about it again. I asked how it felt when Mrs. L took his shirt off. he said it was kind of funny. I said if it was only kind of funny, what else was it? Embarrassing. Did it seem like an okay thing to do or a not-okay thing. With a thoughtful nod he said "not okay."

Then I wondered if my questions were leading (though I tried to be neutral) and he was saying what he thought I thought he should say. This is the very thing I complain about my friend doing, saying to her perfectly content and confident child, "Don't be afraid of that big dog, honey. Don't think that big dog is going to come over here and bite your face off. If you want to cry because your so scared of that big dog, it's okay..mommy will take care of you." And then, voila, the child is crying and terrified.

As you already know, I went to talk to the principal. I really like this principal. She's the daughter of a LCMS pastor in our circuit. When her dad was ill recently, Paul visited the family regularly and got to know her outside of the principals office. Inside the principals office she does a fantastic job. I couldn't be more pleased with her.

I had gone over in my head how to present the story. I just told her the straight story. "Moses is in Mrs.P's class. Yesterday he had his shirt on inside out and backwards and Mrs L stripped him bare chested and put it on right in front of the class." She immediately said, "Oh, my. That doesn't sound good. Was Mo upset about it?" I told her how he had told me and how he had answered when I asked him. We talked about it for a few minutes and she said she would talk to the classroom teacher and Mrs. L about it. "Or," she said as a women entered the outer office, "we could ask Mrs. L about it right now."

And there was Mrs. L and my very first fleeting instinct was to say "NO! I want to be passive aggressive and complain to you and YOU deal with it." But I said, "We may as well ask her, since she's right here. Then it will be clear that I'm not freaking out about and we'll know what the story is."

Here is the story: A classmate made a teasing comment about Mo's shirt being on wrong. Moses asked Mrs. L to fix his shirt. She thought about taking him out in the hall--but there were 24 other kids to supervise. So she said, "close your eyes, everybody!" And fixed Mo's shirt and Mo seemed pleased to have it fixed. And that was the end of it.

Well.

That sounded very plausible. And I could tell by her face and voice that she was slightly horrified, realizing how the story could have sounded to me, but wanting to sound unruffled and not-guilty. It was the same way I was balancing between making sure my kid was okay and not wanting to sound like a lunatic drama queen. She said she wouldn't have given Mo's shirt the time of day, but she heard what the other kid said, and Mo asked her to fix it, displeased with it being pointed out. I said he clearly wasn't traumatized by it, I just wanted to make sure it was all appropriate and above-board.

So, did I underreact? Should I have called for the resignation of Mrs L? Did I get sucked into the drama? Would I have followed through at all if my friend hadn't called? Did I overreact? I don't think so. A mama bear's gotta do what a mama bear's gotta do. Though I momentarily wanted to bail, I'm so glad I got to talk to Mrs L right there. It would have turned into a much bigger deal if it was a three-way conversation between the teachers and principals and then I was called back with the results. Instead, I asked the question. I got my answer. All is well.

And, like most things in life, I view it as practice. I have practiced what to do when something seems suspicious at school. I sharpened my tools for having a non-confrontation discussion with pricnipal and teacher about the treatment of my child. The lines of communication are open and that can only be a good thing. And maybe Moses will put his shirt on right...but, frankly, that would make me a little sad.

obsession

2007-05-02T09:38:00.001-07:00

Freaks and Geeks

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Have I mentioned that this is the best tv show ever made? I've been reluctant to post any video because any one clip might not be representative of the show as a whole. This clip, in fact, is silly. There is a lot of silliness in the show. But it is not only silliness. It is genius. (Please make special note of that tape recorder.)

My box set came in the mail yesterday and I managed to wait until the kids were in bed to watch the first two episodes. And I'm dying to watch more. And the special features. There's two commentaries for each episode--some with the actors and creators; some with the fans who pushed to get the dvd released, some with the actors' parents; one with a couple of the actors in character. Bizarre. I'm totally geeking out. Or should I say Freaking and Geeking out?

Hardcore May Day

2007-05-01T18:54:00.000-07:00

May Day in Nebraska is no joke. May Day in Nebraska is serious business. Our first year here it hadn't registered in my mind that it was the first of May. Why would it? And why, I wondered, did my doorbell keep ringing? And why were there goody-bags on my porch but no people?

To be honest, that first year, when we hardly knew anyone and Phoebe was almost three and Moses 18 months, the doorbell rang twice. I remember the Carrs and the Vonderfechts bringing us May Baskets. But this year...I wish I had my camera (but it's in St. Louis with Paul). It looks like Halloween.

After school as we were playing in the backyard four friends approached with May baskets. Of course we made the ring-and-run aspect of this difficult as we were in plain sight in the backyard. Twice folks walked up and handed us treats and two sets (one for each kid) were stealthily left on the porch. We spent the evening at the Steinauers house and when we returned our little porch was full--probably five May Baskets for each kid.

Most of the May Baskets were not baskets at all, but Styrofoam cups with pipe cleaner handles adorned with stickers and full of candy or trail mix. There were a couple sets of construction paper tulips that served as stapled-on wrapping for Blow Pops. About half of the May Baskets had a "To:" and "From:" on them and half were anonymous.

I love the anonymity. That seems like the whole point, doesn't it? I mean, why ring-and-run if the recipient is going to know who it is from anyway?

For our May Baskets we bought three grocery store fresh flower bouquets. Each kid got a bouquet, three mason jars and scissors to cut the stems and rearrange the big bouquet into three small bouquets. Florists they are not, but they had fun and who can resist shasta daisies and gerber daisies regardless of their arrangement?

We took two to the kids next door; one to Becky, who teaches Phoebe piano, leads the kids' choir at church and is subbing for their music teacher at school this month; three to the Vonderfecht kids; and three to the Steinauer kids. By the time we were done I had waters sloshed out of the jars and all over the floor of my van and a daughter who was a wreck.

Phoebe got totally freaked out by the sneaking up to the door. This happens every year. She just gets so worked up--the nervous anticipation kills her. It almost makes it no fun. What if they see her? What if she is sneaking and she is surprised? By the time we got to our last house she couldn't take it anymore. She said, and I quote word for word, "I want no part of this. I wish none of you would do this, but if you do it anyway....I want no part."

Paul said, "tell her to remember that on prom night."

But back to May Day. I have vague memories of weaving construction paper baskets or cones filled with daffodils at school when I was little. I know one time I took one of these to my next door neighbor, Mrs. Freber. But that was the extent of my May Day participation. I don't know why this tradition, that I always thought of as old-timey, like something Laura & Mary Ingalls or Anne Shirely would do, has kept hold here in Nebraska, but I find it very charming. And every year it's a surprise to me. I just don't remember what a big deal May Day is until suddenly my doorbell is ringing and there are treats on my porch.

Inspirational Songs

2007-04-25T10:39:00.000-07:00

Last night on American Idol the theme was "inspirational songs." The best thing about American Idol is picking out what songs I would sing (and--okay--what I would wear). Inspirational songs is tricky. I was sure the Beat-Box Guy would sing Man in the Mirror. I love that song. He didn't. He did a crappy Imagine. The Justine Timberlake Guy sand Clapton's Change the World and was good. The girls were all way better than the boys but I can't remember any of the songs. You'll Never Walk Alone, I think.

Anyhoo. What would I pick? Well, for true spiritual inspiration, I'd want to pick something from the solid old hymnody. But I don't think Crown Him With Many Crowns or Lift High the Cross would go over well with the judges. (We sang the latter last week during communion and I could hardly stay in my seat. Why would we sing that SITTING DOWN?!) Nor would something by Luther or Martin Franzman.

But here are the songs I thought of--probably none of which would go over on AI, which is just fine. Maybe if they have Singer-Songwriter Idol (SSI) these would be big hits. These are just a few that came to mind. I'll keep adding to this list if I think of more. I'd love to hear what you would sing.

Echoes --Dar Williams

The Only Way -- Mark Erelli

Hardtimes -- Stephen Foster

Seeds of Peace -- Mark Erelli

Let the River Run -- Carly Simon

(I have no idea what this song is about, but I've always loved it)

Do They Know it's Christmas? -- BandAid

(my brother had this album and the b-side had the version I linked to here with everyone speaking. we listened to it over and over and over. i haven't heard it in years and i could speak along with it "hello, this is sara from bananarama....")

God Believes in You -- Pierce Pettis

R.I.P.

2007-04-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

Below is a timeline of the events surrounded the untimely death of our dear Sparky. Thursday was an insane day to begin with and then--surprise--pet death. Ugh.

7:30 a.m

Phoebe feeds,waters and pets Sparky.

8:00 a.m.

I walk Phoebe and Mo to school. Ollie and I spend the morning running errands, playing, etc.

12:00 p.m.

Ollie and pick Mo and Zip up from school. Kindergartners have a half day due to Kindergarten Round-Up for next year's crop of kiddos (including Oliver).

12:15 p.m.

Mo, Zip and I take Ollie to school.

1:00 p.m.

Mo, Zip and I get Ollie from his classroom and walk him down the hall to Kindergarten Round up.

2:00 p.m.

Mo, Zip and I go to DQ for ice cream.

3:15 p.m.

We pick up Phoebe and Ollie from school.

4:20 p.m.

Mo goes out into the backyard to play and comes running in screaming "SPARKY IS DEAD!" Everyone goes tearing outside. Sparky is, indeed, dead inside her doghouse (if anyone is reading this without background info--Sparky is a duck. You can read more about the ducks here.) I like to think she didn't feel well and went to go lie down in bed. There is a dark yellow substance smeared on her and the hay in the doghouse--it's yolky. She hasn't laid an egg in a month or two--after laying one egg every day for over a year. We fear her death had something to do with egg production, but we're no poultry experts so it remains a mystery.

4:25 p.m.

I call Paul and he comes home.

4:30 p.m.

Zip's mom picks her. She is sad but fine, however, her mom later reports that she looses it once she gets in the van.

Paul and I start digging a hole in the garden.

4:35 p.m.

We tearfully lay Sparky to rest. Phoebe, Mo and I have a good cry. Moses refuses to put dirt on top of her. Between sobs he says, "It just seems so mean. If she were alive we'd never do anything like that to her!"

4:45 p.m.

Our friends, the Vondies, arrive to pick us up for a trip to Lincoln to hear David Sedaris read. We bought tickets a year ago. Such, such bad timing. How could we know? Jean also arrives, lucky lucky Aunt Jean, who gets to babysit the grieving, crying children. Phoebe gets in bed and cries herself to sleep. Jean wakes her up for dinner. They all draw pictures of Sparky and make lists of the things they love about her. Phoebe writes Sparky a letter.

We have a delightful time in Lincoln. Sedaris is hilarious and read only one essay I knew--and that was Jesus Shaves--so, how cool is that? We meet our friends who also went, but didn't sit with us at Starbucks. I call and check on the kids a couple times.

Friday 7:00 a.m.

I wake up Moses for school who sits bolt upright and says, "I'm supposed to feed Sparky this morning, but it doesn't matter!" I call our neighbors to let them know so they can tell Annie before she goes to Kindergarten and hears the sad news there. Everyone is sad. Everyone loved Sparky. We wondered if our neighbors would complain about ducks in the yard--but Sparky was a neighborhood hit.

7:50 a.m.

I go over to school without the kids and tell their teachers the news. All three of them kept saying how they were going to tell their teachers, but I thought I'd give a heads up.

4:00 p.m.

After school and snack we go out into the garden and lay a stone which reads "Our Beloved Pet" on Sparky's grave along with flowers and trinkets.

While Mo gives the most dramatic response to Sparky's death, it's Phoebe who feels it most deeply and misses her the most. She, more than anyone, cared for Sparky and enjoyed her company. Ollie is very practical, "I can't take her to school for farm week." "I don't have to shut the gate anymore." I don't think we'll get another duck. It was a lovely chapter in our life to have silly ducks for pets, but chapters end. Farewell, Sparky. Rest in peace.

bliss

2007-04-23T06:54:00.000-07:00

I just ordered this from Amazon with a gift card we got for Christmas. Thank you Aunt Ellen and Uncle Dave. If you are not familiar, please click on over to netflix or call your local video rental establishment/public library/whathaveyou and get your hands on the best tv show ever. Seriously. Every single episode made me 1)laugh hysterically 2)cry. When we got to the last episode I was completely beside myself 1)because it was so so great and 2)because it was the END and I hated to let these characters go.

the end of an era

2007-04-20T04:16:00.000-07:00

Sparky is dead.

internet access

2007-04-18T08:20:00.000-07:00

I am writing this post from Hastings Public Library. I am a Library Board member (Vice President, if you must know) and I use the library all the time but I've never been on the computers. Ollie is upstairs at story hour. I brought a book and a crochet project but I don't feel like doing either. And anyway, this is good practice.

Good practice for what, you ask? Here's the story. Paul and I share a cell phone. We have a land line at the house and one cell we use for long distance and for one of us to take with us whenever, though neither of us usually carry it around. If Paul's going birding, he'll take it. If I'm going to record at Todd & Cody's (they DON'T have a land line, so no one could reach me there) I'll take it.

I mentioned to Paul that when I start school next year we might want two cells. I will probably want to have one with me. Since I'll be on the go, from class to class, to work, probably to field work in a classroom somewhere it would be nice and smart to have the phone with me--if the kids' school calls (you know, head lice, rocks in the ears, whathaveyou). But it would be hard for Paul to NEVER have access to it--no long distance, no way to call for help should he get stuck down some muddy country road while birdwatching over lunch. Two phones might be nice. I refuse to say necessary--it would be nice and convenient.

So then our thoughts turned to how to pay for this added nicety and convenience. Give up cable? Oh, yeah. We don't have cable to give up. Give up the land line? I'm not ready to make that leap.

Having a common phone number is important to me because of it's impact on our family, and my marriage. I have friends with no land line and two separate cell numbers. When I want to call them I have to choose whom to call. In some cases, I am closer with , or have more business to discuss with the husband than the wife. No big deal. If I was calling a home phone either one of them would answer. If I had something to discuss with the husband and the wife answered I would get to talk to her first and then ask to speak with the husband. But with cell phones I end up only having contact with the husband and it could happen that the wife would never know that I had spoken to him. Again, in and of itself, it is no big deal.

Especially, as I am not now, nor do I plan ever to have an affair, this is no big deal. But I can see how easily it could become one. Technology increasingly provides avenues of privacy that we haven't ever really had before.

I remember talking to my friends or boyfriend on the phone in the living room with my whole family in there watching tv. Eventually we got a really, really long coiled handset cord that would stretch down the hall, not quite into my room--but at least I could sit at the end of the hall with my back against my closed bedroom door. Now all the high school kids in my Sunday School class have their own phone. They can talk to whomever they want, whenever they want about whatever they want and their parents have no way of controlling or monitoring or being in the know whatsoever.

Husbands and wives can have entirely private lives conducted over cell phones and the Internet without the other knowing. I have a yahoo account that's my "dummy account" for when I have to give an email address, so spam doesn't come to my regular account. It's how I log onto blogger and myspace and whatever. Paul may not know what that address even is. I could have a whole email centered life, if I wanted to, that he knew nothing about. That's creepy.

As it is we have a joint primary email account. I like this. I don't read his email. He doesn't read my email (do you? :) ). But when I get an email it's right there in the inbox for him to look at if he wanted. I have nothing to hide. It's like a little safety net, should we ever need accountability, there it is. If for some reason I felt insecure or threatened by...I don't know...a bunch of emails coming from some birdwatching lady in North Dakota...I could read them if I wanted. I think I'd find a boring (subjective term, I know) list of rare birds spotted this spring, but I could look if I wanted. And when my guy friends email me, Paul sees it in the inbox. I like that openness.

I have no reason to be suspicious. I'm not in the least. I have no reason to be worried. I am not in the least. And I never have been--because we have always had that sort of openness.

Another thing (in italics because I'm adding it later): answering the phone when it is not for you chit-chat is important. When my mom wants to talk to me, if she called my cell and not our family number, she would never talk to Paul. Same goes for any extended family. Paul's brothers wouldn't call ME, in most cases, unless it was for something specific, and that would be rarely. But when they do call for Paul and I answer I get to talk to them for a few minutes. That is important. That is how we stay a family and keep in touch.

So we will keep the land line.

Plus, our kids will want a phone to use. Phoebe has started calling friends and making plans. She and Moses LOVE to call time and temp. I feel like if we had only cell phones, they would be less likely to get to practice those small, basic, very first phone calls. Sure, they could dig my phone out of my purse...but the phone sitting on the counter is much more accessable. And they are learning how to ANSWER the phone when it rings. I sometimes forget that these are skills kids have to LEARN, but they do and they are important life skills. I would not pull the ringing cell phone out of my pocket and hand it to Mo to answer. Maybe people do. I can't picture it. I imagine a generation of kids growing up NOT using the phone (because there isn't one on the counter accessible to them) and then when they are twelve or something, suddenly, they have their OWN cell phone, which they can then use with no monitoring without having ever learned phone etiquette, or appropriateness, or...maybe this is all in my head...but these are the things I think about.

But something has to give if we are to afford two cell phones. Paul suggested ditching Internet access, which seemed TOTALLY ABSURD to me at first. No Internet. Wuh huh? Impossible. But if Paul is at work all day with a computer and I am at school all day in class or working in the learning center/computer lab--couldn't we get all our computing done during business hours? And if not, the church IS right across the street. Plus, if I couldn't get on the Internet to stare at Craftster and TMZ, think of all I could accomplish.

Of course, then we'd have to use our "dummy" email accounts as real accounts, thus getting rid of the open and shared email inbox of which I just spoke so highly. Or we could get a shared dummy account, but that almost seems like taking it to far....or not?

nerd-tastic!

2007-04-12T10:33:00.000-07:00

What could be better than a 50 cent, 1970's, 100% acrylic, JC Penney ski sweater? It's weird to need it in April but I'm pretty pleased with this find.

By the by, did you know there is no longer a "cent" symbol on my keyboard? I guess there never was one on my keyboard--it wouldn't have just dissappeared--so, I mean, on your keyboard? On any keyboard? Are we so over pennies now?

calling for back up

2007-04-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

Right now I am (obviously) sitting at the computer in my basement office. Moses is screaming himself silly upstairs on the top bunk. Everyone else is at mid-week classes at church.

It's been a long afternoon. Mo had a field trip today, which I think wore him out. He was upset at dinner because he didn't get the chair he wanted. Why not? Because he got mad a week ago and threw that chair down and knocked a screw out so the seat fell off. I haven't fixed it yet. He says the other chairs hurt his back. No one else seems to mind them, but he does, and threw a fit over it.

And then I wouldn't give him his dinner plate because he hadn't unpacked his lunchbox. On Tuesday morning when Easter break was over I went to pack his lunch and found the left overs from THURSDAY'S lunch. Gross. Initially the rule was you don't get snack after school until you've emptied the lunch box. But after school is such a chaotic rush that I always froget to enforce it--so now it's no dinner. He freaked out. He told me I was being mean. He said I didn't seem very sorry that he was crying. I told him I wasn't sorry I was sticking to my rules, but I was sorry he was so sad about it. Of course emptying his lunch box took about 30 seconds and then he got his dinner--but he cried for 20 minutes about it.

Then it was time to leave for church. Moses had a book in his hand and I asked him to put it down. He said he wanted to bring it. When I told him no he launched into another fit. I told him, "We don't take anything to class with us. It's one more thing to keeep track of AND your teacher already has your class all planned. You won't have time for that book." It's another sort of standard rule. You don't take stuff to class. You don't bring toys in the store. Not something crazy I just made up. He looked at me like I had personally insulted him.

The fit continued as we crossed the street. Oliver and Phoebe skipped off to class Moses skulked in the hallway. I said I wasn't leaving until he went into his class room. He skulked. I stood there. He skulked. I heard his class starting up. I tried to coax him in. I tried to make small talk to distract him. He skulked. I offered hugs and kisses. I cracked jokes. Skulked. I finally said, "you can go to class or go to bed." He skulked. I repeated myself. He skulked. I said , "you can choose or I will choose for you. which do you want to do?" Skulked. I said, "I'm counting to three. You choose by three or I will choose for you." I counted. He skulked. I calmly took him by the hand and marched him back across the street.

He's now in his bed screaming. Still. It's been twenty-five minutes. I'm starting to feel like an ogre. I'm doing the right thing here, right? (Now is the time where you affirm me. If you think I'm crazy, save it for another day. I am in need of affirmation here, people.)

He is risen indeed!

2007-04-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

We had a lovely Easter. After successfully getting through and hour and a half long tenebrae service with the kids on Good Friday, I was feeling a little cocky. I thought we'd try the Easter morning sunrise service. I dragged the kids out of bed at 6:10 am, they through some clothes off and we went across the street for the 6:30 service. Paul read the preface to Walt Wangerin's Ragman, which is a resurrection narritive, as his sermon. It rocked. We sang Easter hymns (but because the sunrise service is a small crowd, we only got through two communion hymns before communion was done--stopping just before I Know That My Redeemer Lives, darnit!) We said, "He is risen! He is risen, indeed!" We brought back out the alleluias with gusto. The service started in predawn darkness and by the benediction the joyous light of Easter was shining through the stained glass, spraying color on the walls. We had breakfast in the fellowship hall. The kids and I went home for an hour (during the 8:00 service) and watched cartoons and then back for Sunday School at 9:15 (it pays to live in the parsonage!). We came home, hung out, had lunch. When Paul got home (after the 11:00 service) we hunkered down for nap time. No one ever wants to take a nap, but since we were up at six I thought we'd try it. Phoebe slept like a champ. The boys did not which meant Paul and I didn't really either--it was a rest anyway.
At 3:30 I got up and put the ham in the oven. We decorated eggs. Paul made gin and tonics. Jean and Gus came over. While the kids cleaned up the basement the grown ups hid the eggs and then we had our hunt. I guess normal people do this on Easter morning but that's just impossible for us--we've always done it at about 5:00 Easter evening. We don't even bother with the Easter Bunny--how would that work? He snuck in during the hour between the time they decorated the eggs and hunted for them?
We had dinner (yum!). Took a family walk. Had dessert (yum! Thanks, Jean!).

We keep teasing Jean because last week when we started making Easter plans she said, "Easter isn't Easter without family!" You can imagine Paul's response. "Really? Really, Jean? There's no Easter without family? So what? Jesus stays in the grave? What about the widow and the orphan who HAVE no family? No resurrection for them?"

While I firmly believe nothing could keep Jesus in the grave, it IS nice to have family in town to celebrate with.

what AM i gonna do with all that junk?

2007-04-05T16:48:00.000-07:00

more nonsence.

this song is ridiculous. its ridiculousness is pefectly showcased here. i've always like alaniss morissette. enjoy.

unbelievable

2007-04-04T07:38:00.000-07:00

Last night somebody had a serious flatulence problem and handed her father this note while he was talking on the phone. I get the giggles everytime I think about it. I woke Paul up because I kept laughing in bed. What kind of grown ups are these kids going to be?

"Your going to be smelling egg saled for a wile."

jokes

2007-04-03T14:35:00.000-07:00

1) I got my official PPST scores in the mail yesterday. I scored higher in math than writing.

2) Lately, when the kids start fighting and it gets to the point where one might punch the other, I've taken to pumping my fist in the air and shouting, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" like all the idiots circling 'round in junior high used to. This has three results. 1) I crack myself up. 2) I make the kids mad at me instead of each other. 3) They stop fighting.

Palm Sunday was April 1st

2007-04-03T06:21:00.000-07:00

Last week we watched ET as a family. We thought about going to see The Last Mimzy, but Rotten Tomatoes gave it a 54% which didn't seem to warrant spending $25 admission (plus snacks) for the five of us to go. Instead we decided to go rent ET (97%).

I remembered going to see it in the theater with my family and our neighbors. We had a bunch of neighbors with kids the same age as my siblings (I was the youngest at home AND on the block) and we all did everything together--vacations, movies, whathaveyou. We all went to see ET. It was summer. Everyone liked it. Everyone cried. And I sobbed. I bawled. I remember being packed in the hot sticky Aspen station wagon with a load of older kids and crying my eyes out while they rolled theirs at me.

I looked at the production date on ET. It was 1982. I was a second grader, just like Phoebe, who, like her mother, cried like a baby on my lap when ET told Elliot to "be good" and boarded his space craft. It is still a fantastic movie. Go watch it.

Sunday morning we were eating breakfast before church. Paul was long gone to the office and the kids and I were sitting around the table just like every Sunday.

Phoebe: Hey, Mom. In ET when Michael's friends are making fun of Elliot and asking about his goblin and Elliot says he's a spaceman and they don't believe him...? Well, the one guy says, "What planet is he from? Uranus? Uranus? Get it? Uranus? Ur Anus? Get it?" And he laughs? Remember that? Well, I don't get it.

Emily: (taking a deep breath, stalling to think and keep from laughing) I will explain it to you, but you should know that it is kind of a naughty joke. (the children's eyes light up) Uranus is a planet in our solar system. There's Earth, Mars, Neptune.. (Phoebe starts singing a song which names all the planets, pronouncing Uranus with the accent on the first syllable, not the second)..exactly. So the kid asks if ET is from Uranus, which is a planet. But the word "anus" is the hole in your bottom...where poop comes out.

Children: (mouths and eyes as big as saucers, laughing) What?!?!

Emily: So he is making a joke--a pun--on the words anus and Uranus. It sounds like he is asking if he is from Uranus, which is okay and not funny, but what he's really saying is "is ET from your anus?" (confused faces, not quite getting it) "Is ET from your bottom?" (slightly amused, still not seeing what the big deal is) "Is ET from your butt hole?" (and they all fall apart, half horrified, half delighted).

Moses: (now running in circles waving his spoon above his head) Bad word! Mom said a bad word! You can't say that!

Emily: I know! Phoebe wanted me to explain the joke. I told you it was naughty. But can you see how that is funny? (They all nod, unsure if it is okay to admit seeing the humor). Yes it is funny, but naughty, and not a joke WE will make.

Oliver: If his Mom heard him say that he'd have to go to his room.

And I was left thinking, as I often do, "this is my life? really? it is MY job to explain these things? and I'm doing it with a straight face?" I felt like this was my April Fool--having to explicitly explain the Uranus/Your Anus joke.

I did play an April Fool of my own. We had had a talk about April Fools--about how we like NICE jokes. We like happy surprises, not anything that is going to make people mad or hurt feelings. "Because, kids, if you play a mean joke on your friends, what will your friends want to do?" In unison: "Play a mean joke on you!" Sometimes I feel like I'm the host of some demented children's show on PBS ("can you say 'anus' kids? repeat after me!").

I bought angel food cake and frosting. I added food coloring to the white frosting until it looked as close to American Singles as I could get it. I sliced the angel food thin, melted some butter in a frying pan, and whipped up some faux grilled cheese sandwiches. It was convincing. Of course it was convincing, I read about it in Martha Stewart Living. My sister-in-law, who dropped by after church only said, 'that cheese is weird color" but Paul stuck an elbow in her ribs.

Unfortunately, the frosting was dripping and Moses licked it off his fingers before I could orchestrate everyone taking a bite at the same time. They all examined their sandwiches and licked their fingers and Phoebe said, "April Fool?" Phoebe and Mo had a good laugh and couldn't believe it was cake and not bread--it looked just like bread! But Ollie never stopped to say anything. He was too busy cramming that cake/sandwich down his craw.

First Funeral

2007-03-31T19:28:00.001-07:00

This morning Moses and I went to the funeral of his classmates' mother. Thursday I went to my friend Dee's funeral. Today Moses and I went to this one. Neither Mo nor I knew this woman. The boys just started kindergarten in the fall and Miles' mom went into the hospital, I believe, in October. We didn't really have a chance to know her. I wasn't sure I even knew who the dad was until I saw him this morning. I have seen him around. We introduced ourselves. How odd to be there and not know the deceased or her husband--our only connection being these six year old boys.

Moses and Miles share a locker. He is cute as a button. Mo really likes him. When we heard his mom died Moses showed true empathy. We knew Miles and his family were on their way to Michigan where his mom's side of the family lives but Mo wished he would be at school the next day. "I just want to see Miles. I just want to talk to Miles."

So, the memorial "celebration" was this morning and all Miles' classmates were invited. A letter was sent from school saying this was purely optional but gave the details, saying it would be child-friendly, child-geared. Moses wanted to go. We wanted him to go. This is what you do, right? This is how you are a friend to your friends. You show up for this stuff.

So Teresa (mom) and Annie (kindergartener) who live next door picked us up in the driving rain/almost snow and then we picked up another mom and classmate and headed to the church. I felt akward asking the dad/husband what his first name was again--but we both knew we didn't know each other so I didn't see the point in struggling through the rest of the morning not knowing his name and he didn't know mine either so it was fine....I think it was fine....I hope it was anyway...maybe I came off like a jerk, but I don't think so.

The service was lovely. The congregational hymn was Jesus Loves Me which slayed me with its simplicity. There were scripture readings followed by a sketchy (but ultimately fine) sermon and then a solo by a maybe sixth grade boy with a gorgeous soprano voice. Then the dad/husband gave the "remembrance." I simply don't know how he did it. I don't know how he stood up there and spoke about his wife but it was amazing. It was beautiful. It was a beautifully written piece, beautifully presented. I wish I had known this woman.

Then there was a children's message where someone read that "Little Nut Brown Hare" book about "how much I love you." And while we sang the closing hymn (another simple but beautiful song by Natalie Sleeth) the kids all traced their hands and signed their names on a poster for Miles so he'd know who was there. After the hymn the kids lead us out of the sanctuary, out of the church picking up helium balloons on the way. We stood in the sleet in the parking lot where the pastor gave the benediction and we let the balloons go--some with messages tied to the strings.

Back inside there were coloring books about Moms for the kids and plates of cookies. Miles had told the kids at school they were going to have nachos after the funeral but he fessed up that he was only teasing--really there was chicken noodle soup and he warned us it was bad, with really big pieces of chicken. I stood around and talked to the other kindergarten moms and dads (there were about 8 families), the principal, counselor and two kindergarten teachers from school. I spoke to Miles' dad again before I left--what a neat guy--and what thought and care went into to planning this, much of it solely for his son.

And that was that--Mo's first funeral. He knew it was sad. He knew it was heavy. But he's six. He chased Miles around the parking lot. He said, "See ya Monday at school!" I hope he knows now not to dread these sorts of things. Of course no one likes going to funerals. But it's what you do. It's how you are a friend to your friends. You show up for the funeral and then you seamlessly say, "see you Monday at school!" and chase him around the parking lot.

Raspberry Beret in the Serengeti

2007-03-29T06:39:00.000-07:00

When we were in England we scheduled our lives around the sketch comedy show Big Train. It was apparently only on for the one year we were there. We didn't realize just how lucky we were.

Here is a little rainy Thursday morning humor from the BBC.

PS: Spellcheck told me how to spell "Serengeti" and it looks wrong to me...but what do I know?

don't worry--wait for it

2007-03-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

This terrible Thing happened. It was a life-ruining, dream-crushing Thing. It was horrible. I was sitting in the kitchen of a friend from church crying my eyes out. I was bawling uncontrolably and inconsolably (rightfully so) like I haven't done since I don't know when. When I thought about the Thing I felt ill. When I thought about what to do next--how to get over the Thing--all the options seemed more horrendus and painful and sickening then the Thing itself. I wanted to die. I was heavy and full of black dread.

I sobbed, "I'm usually a straight-forward head-on kind of person. I can usually face things, but I can't face this. I can't do it. All I can do is hope it will magically disappear. For the first time in my life I can honestly only see failure and doom. All I can do is wish this is all a dream and that I will wake up."

And then I did.

It was a dream.

I was so happy.

I snuggled back under my covers with the robins chirping outside the window and had another hour of blissful dream-free sleep.

so sick of cancer

2007-03-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning I have to go to my friend Dee's funeral. I can not believe Dee died. I could not believe it last week when I heard Dee was home on hospice with a few days left.

Screw you, cancer.

When I got the news that she was indeed dying and soon I felt ripped off. I told Paul that the only think I could think of was so cliche--"I thought I'd have more time." And Paul said that's how cliches become cliches--because they are true.

Dee and I were on the Library Board together. We were colleagues. We didn't really see each other outside of that realm. But I have a deep admiration and respect for her. I always really enjoyed being around her. I know she felt similarly toward me. I trusted her judgement. I could confide in her my personal opinions or misgivings or frustration regarding things board-related, a bit unusual in a politically-charged arena. I could trust her to correct me when I was wrong, shoot my ideas down when they were stupid, support me when she thought I was onto something and fight for me when she knew I was right. She played devil's advocate to ensure that we really thought things through. This sometimes slowed down progress but I was never sorry she made me think. We always volunteered each other to do things because neither of us wanted to do it but knew the other would do things in a way we approved of. "You should be board president." "No, YOU should be board president!"

A few times we went for coffee after meetings. Most meetings we stood around afterward and talked. I thought when I started back to school I'd get to see her there. I thought we could meet for lunch. I thought I'd get to know who she was outside of the Board. I thought I'd ask her advice and she'd give me encouragement. I thought I'd talk her into being board president. I thought there would be time.

And now there's not.

And Thursday I will go to her funeral.

And in a few months somebody else I know will die of cancer. Like my grandparents and aunts. Like Amy's mom. Like Dixie and Marion. Like so many people you guys know and love.

I am sick to death of cancer.

But I will pray and pray and keep praying that those who are fighting cancer will win. Like my dad did. Like my neighbor did. Like my mother-in-law did before and is right now. Like all the people I see at the Relay for Life wearing Survivor shirts and I think, "I had no idea!" did. Because it doesn't always end poorly. But why it ever has to start is beyond me.

spring sprung

2007-03-26T06:30:00.000-07:00

1. It is supposed to be 80ish today. Crocuses and tulips are opening up. Daylillies are pushing through.

2. I am starting week 2 of my new fitness regimen. I am alternating running and yoga daily. I do not feel the pounds melting away. I do not feel my pants getting looser. I trick myself into thinking "getting started is the hard part." And I feel smug and self-satisfied to just be out of the house in sweats and trainers. I run a block and then am amazed at all the negative thoughts that come into my mind. I want to stop running and go home. I want to stop running and go home and drink a Coke and eat a bag of M&M's. Getting started is not the hard part. I'm a good starter. I'm not so good with the follow through....which is why twice a year I say "and NOW I'm really going to get in shape and back to pre-baby weight!" and I never have and Oliver is almost FIVE. But I shall persevere. I can change my life, right?

3. I started recording yesterday! Whoop! I went over to Todd's after church and we sat in front of the recording console and he began explaining things to me and I thought, "Oh, crap." It seemed overwhelming. But then he went downstairs to wash beer bottles (he's brewing his own beer these days) and left me to it. I did great. I laid down guitar and vocal tracks for a song, then laid down two accordion tracks. The accordion tracks aren't keepers--I'll have to redo them--but I UNDERSTAND how to do that much. Now, once I have the tracks I need I'll have to figure out mixing, but that's a whole other ball of wax. Which is good. It IS a whole other ball of wax which I will deal with when the time comes.

He had the mics set up facing the corner. It had the same affect of singing in the shower, which sounded great. But I kept turning my whole body so I could see out the window. I finally rearranged the whole room so I could sing looking out the window. The sound bouncing off the glass does not have the same feel as it bouncing back off the wall, but I am much happier. Facing the corner I only had the vocal mic staring me in the face and saying "you better make this good!" But when I faced the window I could relax a little more, blur my sight a little and not focus on anything but see the green of the trees and cars moving down the street and sing a little more naturally.

I was there for about four hours yesterday and am going back as soon as Ollie goes to school. I have thought of little else since then. I'm chomping at the bit. Fun. Fun. Fun.

4. Oma and Opa have arrived to spread a little grandparent love around the house. Opa is playing "Guess Who?" with Ollie just outside my door. Paul made bacon and pancakes for breakfast. Tonight Jean & Gus will come over, I'm sure. Good stuff.

How I Spent My Spring Break by, Emily Dunbar

2007-03-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

Thursday 6:00 am
With the kids loaded snuggly into the back of the Fit, bellies full of dramamine we set off. We made it the 2+ hours to Nebraska City (the kids slept the whole time) for breakfast at McDonalds.

Thursday 3:30 pm
After a long drive with bickering children, one of whom tried to disembark while hurtling along at 77 mph and briefly reduced me to tears, we arrive at my mom and dad's house. Hooray! We hang out, watch cable, eat dinner, catch up, whathaveyou.

Friday 11:00 am
I head off to Music Folk and play baby Taylors and baby Martins for an hour. Delightful. I'm settled on the mahogany baby Taylor whenever I have an extra couple hundred dollars sitting around for another guitar. I really would like a small one for travel (I had to go guitar-less this trip) and for when the kids start to play (becasue they WILL play--we WILL have a family band).

Friday 12:30 pm
After getting my guitar jones taken care of, I drive downtown and proveI am NOT a country bumpkin. I meet the delightful Tim at Wasabi on Washington for some conversation and fantastic sushi--no restaurants like this in Hastings.

Friday 2:30 pm
I meet my parents and kids at the St. Louis Art Museum. The kids only last an hour, which is okay. We see the Egytian sarcophogi along with the African and Polynesian art--mostly masks and carvings which they are totally into--plus some unrelated suits of armor. Then we have our obligatory and delicious trip to Ted Drewes.

Friday 6:00 pm
Off to Doug & Sandy's for dinner. The kids have a ball. Phoebe spends the night for a little girl-time with her cousin Jordan. I fear the boys will be jealous and freak out. Even though they are all sharing a bedroom at my parents, they don't notice her absense until breakfast. The fact that my mom gave them their first Transformers has them distracted and blissfully occupied.

Saturday 11:00 am
Snows all day -- giant freak-of-nature flakes that have no choice but to melt on contact with the ground. I go to Target (ahhhh) then pick up Phoebe. We meet Mom, Dad & the boys at McDonalds for a late lunch and a little Playland excercise. We had planned to go to the park but then....snow.

Saturday 6:00 pm
Doug, Sandy, Jordan and Calvin come for dinner. Calvin keeps appearing upstairs with strange bleeding cuts. No one can explain. Monday night after cleaning up the basement I find a smashed coffee mug in the carpet. Apparently Ollie was throwing toys in the air and Calvin followed suit with the closest thing at hand--a porcelin coffee cup. I asked Ollie why he didn't tell me this when we were asking how Calvin cut himself. He forgot.

Sunday 11:00 am
Church. Lunch at PJ's.

Sunday 2:00 pm
Mom and I take the kids shopping for new Crocs and (why not?) Croc jewlery. Thanks, Mom. I drop them off and head to World Market, Old Navy, The Knowledge Store and Borders and only buy a cheap rug and a game called Bananagrams.

Sunday 6:30 pm
I drive over to Nate & Gina's new house for the grand tour. We have dinner at Dewey's Pizza in downtown Kirkwood, which is now strangely metroplitan, sophisticated, and full of restaurants. Nate & I each have a wild mushroom pie and Gina opts for pepperoni (which is given the misleading name X-pepperoni). Nate takes Gina home to finish a little school work and then comes over to see his godchild, Oliver. We play Bananagrams, Transformers and Nate times the children to see how long it takes them to run around the house.

Monday 10:30 am
Grandpa takes us to the St. Louis Zoo.

Monday 3:00 pm
Naptime for me.

Monday 4:30 pm
We drive to the Shrewsbury Metrolink Station and take the train down to Laclede's Landing to eat at the Old Spaghetti Factory. This makes me want to live in the city. I say this aloud and my parents say, yes, Kirkwood has a lot to offer. I say, "No, I mean in the CITY." Oh. Dinner is good and fun. We take the Metrolink back. Five minutes into the half-hour train ride Oliver has to pee--BAD. I keep him talking to distract him but he is squirming and pinching off (if you know what I mean) and near tears. I debate taking the souvenir Old Spagetti Factory plastic cups out of my purse for him to pee in. We make it to Shrewsbury--by now Mo is in a similar state--we run down the platform, down the stairs, half way down the parking lot where they drop trough and pee in the grass. We are one classy crew.

Tuesday 6:30 am
We pile back into the Fit. Stop at the St. Louis Bread Co (Panera Bread to some of you) for a Mocha for me and pumpkin Muffies all around. Then, we hit the highway.

Tuesday 3:30 pm
After a delightful day with nearly perfectly behaved children (much to my delight and all praise to God) we arrive home. Aaaaah. Home.

Things to note:
Every morning my parents made a Starbucks run. Every night I stayed up well past midnight watching Christina Aguilera: Behind the Music and Australia's Next Top Model. This is what happens when one who normally get five channels with questionable reception on their bunny ears enter a home with digital cable. The kids watched a Dirty Job's marathon on Sunday. I feel thoroughly vacationed. Also--Paul did the math when I got home. The Fit averaged ABOVE 30 mpg for the trip. One tank hit just above 37. I'm glad we packed in!

take THAT ppst

2007-03-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday it got up to 77 degrees. It was beautiful. I put ABBA Gold in the cd player, got in the Fit and drove to Kearney to take the PPST.

I did the 1:15 reading section in about 20 minutes.

Then came the dreaded math. It was tough. There were a couple graphs with an X axis and a Y axis and a sloping line with the question "Which of the following equations does this graph represent?" No clue. No inkling of how to do those problems. There were a couple like this:"A student says the following is true: x y parenthesis blah blah blah. Which of the following proves the student wrong." I don't even think the MATH was that hard, but having it framed that way was very confusing to me.

There were, I think, 44 questions and 1:15 to complete it. I could skip questions or mark them for review. I was down to the wire going back over my marked and unanswered questions with the time clock flashing. There was one question involving area and perimeter that I couldn't work out--but I didn't know why. I KNOW how to figure those things, but there seemed to be two correct answers. That was very frustrating. And when I ran out of time and the math portion shut down I really didn't know where I stood.

After a fifteen minute break I did the writing multiple choice section, then the essay. My essay was a rather uninspired standardized test essay, but decent none-the-less.

Then came the scores. Out of 190 possible, I needed 171 to pass the math. I got a 182! I could hardly believe it. I'm a pretty optimistic person. I think I have pretty realistic expectations for things. And still, I thought it was a real possibility that I would not pass the math. So, WOO HOO!

After the test I went to Target--a treat because we don't have one in town. Then I went to the music shop and played a baby Taylor guitar for a while. Next I hit the Thunderhead Brewery to return my empty growlers bottles and pick up two new growlers: Dubble and IPA. The Thunderhead makes fantastic beer, brewed right here in central Nebraska, to be taken home in glass gallon jugs. It's so great.

I cranked ABBA back up and drove home to find Paul grilling on the patio. We had burgers and BBQ potato chips. A little after eight Todd & Cody and Clay & Susie came over to celebrate. We opened the aforementioned growlers and sat in the backyard until it got chilly. Clay and Susie brought be a book. Todd & Cody brought me a bag of thrifted Scrabble tiles--the uses for which are endless.

I feel so relieved. This was my last hurtle to jump through for grad school--now I just have to wait for my (please) acceptance letter. I had been dangling the carrot of recording a cd in front of me and now I can. Thursday the kids and I drive off to St. Louis.

I'm a happy girl.

Save the drama for your Mama? No thank you. Save it for someone else.

2007-03-12T06:51:00.000-07:00

While I am tempted to cut to the chase, I must start this story at the beginning. I was in the backyard with the kids when a hawk flew low across the yard into our big pine tree. He was carrying a mammal of some sort in his talons. As many of you know, this sort of thing is cause for great excitement at our house. I told the kids to freeze and went in to get Paul.

We went in and watched from the window for a while, passing binoculars around and then headed slowly and quietly outside with binocs, scope, & camera. It was pretty cool. After a few minutes the kids wandered back to what they were doing. I decided to take a walk. Paul, of course, sat there for at least an hour watching the hawk devouring what turned out to be a ground squirrel. Here are some photos he took:

When I got back from my walk--I went about 2-1/2 miles (how long would that take?)--Paul, Phoebe & Ollie were all laying on their bellies right next to the tree watching the hawk from freakishly close. I walked up and asked where Moses was. Nobody knew.

I walked in the back door (with Paul a few steps behind me) and called his name. I came into the living room and there he stood all wide-eyed and panicky.

"Mom, I just called 911! I called 911! I couldn't find anybody so I called 911!"

I stared at him and saw no blood. I looked the room over and saw no fire or intruders. I thought something awful must have happened, he needed help, he couldn't find anybody and called 911. After brief questioning and observation we discover that the emergency WAS that he couldn't find us.

I grabbed the phone and called 911 myself.

"Hastings 911. Where is your emergency?"
"I don't actually have an emergency, but my son just called from ### Chestnut Ave."
"Yes, ma'am he did."
"He couldn't find us and panicked, but we are all here. We were in the back yard. Everything is okay. There is no emergency."
"Thank you ma'am. I'll let the authorities know."

At first, this all made good sense. Paul and the other kids had been laying on their bellies, quietly, under the pine tree for who-knows-how-long. You'd think Mo would know we wouldn't ever LEAVE him, but I could imagine looking the house and yard over and not seeing anybody and freaking out.

I'm not sure 911 would have been my first option, what with our very helpful and friendly neighbors outside....

But as it turns out, Phoebe and Ollie had been outside with Paul for about 5 minutes. The three kids had been playing in the front yard (where they wouldn't scare the hawk away). Phoebe and Ollie went into the back yard to see Paul. Moses went inside and had some crazy lapse of time and judgement and called 911.

Moses SAID he walked around the outside of the house looking. He SAID he called out Paul's name. It just doesn't add up. Standing in the kitchen talking about all this I could see EXACTLY where they were watching the hawk through the window. Our yard is not so big that they wouldn't have heard Mo even if he had been just walking and not yelling....and they were laying there quietly so as not to scare the hawk away so if Moses had yelled HE would have scared the hawk away and everyone would have been aware of the fact that he was out there looking for them.

I don't understand AT ALL why he was so freaked out. (You may have caught on by now that Moses is sometimes off in his own world.) I do, however, understand that his fear and panic were real. He wasn't being naughty--not calling 911 to see what happened, to get attention, or just get a rise out of everybody. He was REALLY scared. So, I suppose, he did the right thing...but c'mon...911?

After I got off the phone and we got some answers out of him he just bawled. He cried and cried, poor thing. When he settled down we talked about what to do if such a thing happened again (ie: actually look for your parents, not call 911 straight away). We commended him for knowing how to call 911, give them the information they needed, tell them what the emergency was--he really did a good job at that. We reassured him that we would never just leave without telling him. We waited for a police car to show up just to check on us--it never did.

And now I have to stifle the urge to make jokes about it. Every time there is any sort of problem--like Moses couldn't find his tennis shoes--I want to say, "You can't find your shoes?! We better call 911!!" But I have refrained...for now.

shout out

2007-03-08T16:26:00.000-08:00

So, my friend Todd Brown is making a move. He is a great singer/songwriter and all around good guy. He now has a cd to promote and tomorrow he gets to promote on Nebraska Public Radio's Friday Live.

We've been playing in the same circle (both literal and figurative) for a couple of years--both of us enjoying writing, playing locally, and dreaming of what we might do with our music. And the time has come for Todd to move on it and it's very exciting. I can't wait to see what happens.

Admittedly, I'm jealous, but I plan to ride his coattails. I'm actually using Todd's recording equipment to put a cd together as soon as I take the PPST (MONDAY!). So in my afteroons I'll be hitting the spare room at Todd and Cody's and recording.

Go to Todd's new myspace digs; listen to the songs he has up; then email him and say you want to buy his cd. It's good stuff.

TODAY the school nurse called regarding:

2007-03-07T09:26:00.000-08:00

Head Lice.

The fun never ends, folks. The fun never ends.

"watching"

2007-03-06T20:49:00.000-08:00

Right now we are watching Borat. I use the terms both "we" and "watching" loosely. I simply cannot take it. I cannot watch. I have to leave the room. I like sitting here in the office where I can hear it but don't have to watch. When I was sitting on the couch I was mostly hiding my face. He makes my shouldners tense up. He makes me nervous and uncomfortable...but he is so freaking funny.

And Sasha Baron Cohen is so handsome...and, thankfully, so NOT Borat.

New Song

2007-03-01T12:06:00.000-08:00

When I started this this morning it was just a silly idea I had but as I wrote it started to take on some acutal meaning. I'm still working out the melody--I had one, but realized I was absolutely ripping off Patty Griffin, so it's back to the melodic drawing board. Think: cowboy ballad in 3/4 time.

Sweetheart Deal
Emily Dunbar

3/1/07

Our parents had it rough in the wagons and tents
Poor and sore abused. One look, ten cents
Times were harder then and they did what they did
To survive and provide a better life for their kids

The travelin’ shows died and we scrambled scratched
To make a dime off our faces and the humps on our backs
We wanted the gold, but the pains to avoid
So someone pitched a story to the weekend tabloid

It was a sweetheart deal and everyone won
The Bat Boy, The Wolfman, The Cyclops Woman
The World’s Fattest Baby, the sweet Mermaid Girl
We smiled for the camera and hid from the world

We became their bread and butter. We worked out a plan
Each month one of us graced the checkout stand
The public gawked and gasped and we made out like thieves
Safe in our shelter from each taunt and tease

It was a sweetheart deal…

But times have changed again and the people don’t care
for the Boy with Fish Gills, The Girl with Spiders for Hair
They want pretty movie starlets with ugly tattoos
to have nervous breakdowns and they call it news

I used to find the old way perverse
Turn a freak into star and fill up his purse
But now they take the ones who start with it all
And pay a million dollars to watch them fall

We had a sweetheart deal and everyone won…

Now I work the drive through and nobody minds
that my fingers are webbed they say, “Hey, it takes all kinds”
But that stunning young thing who used to be on TV
They scratched her eyes out and shunned her till she felt like me

They scratched her eyes out and shunned her till she felt just like me

How did you spend your summer vacation?

2007-02-28T18:08:00.000-08:00

Here is what I sent to a former professor in response to his questions. I sent him an email asking him to write me a letter of recommendation for grad school, but he didn't remember me--it's been 10 years and I was a run-of-the-mill B student who didn't do much to distinguish myself. He asked about what has happened since Valpo and, in the end, wrote me an amazing letter.

Valpo was the just the jumping off point for my interest in literature. I floundered so much during college about what I wanted to do and be that I didn't settle on an English major until late in the game and then knocked all the required courses off pretty quickly and graduated a semester early. After graduation two high school friends (really it was Kelly and Emily--neither of whom I went to school with, but both are from St. Louis and I know them through Young Life--but that seemed like to much detail to get into) and I decided we wanted to a)keep reading and b) learn to cook. So we started a dinner and book discussion night once a month. I don't think any of us had any notion of what a "bookgroup" was supposed to be or that other people did it (this was before Oprah made it hip!). So we read Tess of the D'Ubervilles, A Prayer for Owen Meany, The Catcher in the Rye, Wuthering Heights and a self-made list of books we felt any well-read person should have read already. We had a ball. I think I was both so self- and grade-conscious at Valpo that I didn't derive much true pleasure or organic intellectual stimulation from literature (I have vowed to give my children the option of waiting a few years between high school and college--I think I would have benefitted greatly). So, sitting around in barefeet on a back porch drinking cheap wine, eating burnt food and discussing "what Holden Caulfield's deal is" was like a miracle to me.

When we first moved to Hastings, where my husband is a Lutheran pastor, people were all worked up about Harry Potter. Should they let their kidsread it? Will they all become witches? So, I lead a four-week book discussion on the first book in theseries. I figured it was best to have the parents actually READ the book, discuss the issues, and make an informed decision. I, by the way, am eagerly awaiting both the final book this summer and the day my kids are old enough to read the series. I wanted to do the same thing with the "Left Behind" series that people are so crazy about but I found the first book so awful (both in literary and theological terms) that I couldn't go throughwith it. I now lead a book group made of a diverse group of women from our church (ranging in age from 24 to 65) where we discuss "secular" books with spiritual themes. Many of these women are not avid readers, or normally stick to the Mary Higgins Clark-type novels. So, it has been a fun challenge to get them to see how rewarding it can be to work through adifficult novel and to appreciate the value and artistry in a novel even when you don't particularly enjoy the book as entertainment per se or, relate to the characters/plot on a personal level. I suppose that's what I want to do in the classroom as well.

My interests really haven't changed much since college. The biggest difference in my outlook. At 19 I only had eyes for results. The point of high school was getting into a good college. The point of going to college was to get a good job. The point of a good job was...what? Wealth and prestige? Somewhere along the line I began to see the intrinsic value in simply DOING. I began to see that results are an afterthought to the journey. That first book group was not preparing us for something, or gaining us anything external but it was so worthwhile. I will never be a rockstar, but I've been studying guitar for the past five years; writing songs; performing around the state; winning songwriting contests; and am recording my first cd this spring. And the performing, winning and recording are icing on the cake. Simply playing the guitar is a joy and something I will continue to do even when the other aspects die away. I've been crocheting for a year and knitting for about two weeks. Just this morning I ripped apart a sweater I've been working on for my daughter because it doesn't fit her. Of course this was frustrating, but I told myself when I started crocheting that I was going to learn the craft. My point is to learn the craft well and failing and ripping projects apart is part of that and it's okay. I've found the joy in just trying things out just for the sake of trying. They don't have to turn into a career. They don't have to be lifelong hobbies. I don't have to become an expert. It doesn't have to result in anything, but I am better for doing it. Every year we have "Meatless July" at our house. Why? To see if we can do it and it's fun to try new recipes and visit different sections of the grocery store. Last summer the kids and I biked everywhere (two off training wheels and one on a pedal-behind-contraption) to see how little we could use the car. We saw our town in a whole new way. We knew which streets had too many cars parked to ride safely in the street. We knew the easiest intersections to cross. We knew who had the prettiest flowers (the house where the whole terrace between the sidewalk and street was entirely filled with marigolds).

I'm very excited to start grad school. I'm eager to learn, be a part of a learning community, start down a new path. I have a graduate assistant job lined up in the learning center where I'll help undergrad students with their papers and provide accommodation services to students with learning disabilities--and I'm just as excited about that as my coursework. It's scary to think about juggling classes, job and home life but I know that it will be good for my children to see me working hard toward a goal.

too much drama for this mama

2007-02-27T13:41:00.000-08:00

Yesterday the school nurse called. Okay, it was Paul's day off and we were watching the last available episode of the Sopranos on dvd and let the machine get it. Then it rang again and this time we listened and it was someone from the church office saying, "...they tried your phone and cell phone and then called here so..." So. We got nervous and called the school to get this ridiculous news: Moses had rocks in his ear. For Pete's sake. The nurse (who we--and especially Mo--are on close terms with after his head got split open at school last year resulting in seventeen stitches and semi consciousness) was able to get one rock out, but another remained that she simply could not reach with the tools in the school nurses office. I called the doctors office. We went right after school where he extricated a surprisingly large pebble from Mo's ear.

After dinner the boys were running around in the living room while I was cleaning up the waffle residue from the kitchen when Ollie started screaming. It's amazing that, with kids running around screaming all the time in this house, it is totally obvious when something is really wrong. I heard Ollie's "I'm really hurt and freaking out scream." I ran in to find a gash above his right eye and blood streaming down his face compliments of the corner of the toybox. I went into supernatural mommy calm; scooped him up; took him into the kitchen; got a paper towel to hold on his cut; and in my supernatural mommy calm voice asked Phoebe to please get a ziplock bag full of ice and for Moses to please bring me the phone and dial this number. Paul was birdwatching, but just a few blocks from home when I got him on the cell. We hemmed and hawed about stitches. The gash wasn't very long, but it was deep. We called a nurse friend who said "don't worry about it." Which we were glad to hear because I really didn't want to pay for stitches and lydocane and ER fees.

Today I had to go back to the doctor with Phoebe whose asthma has just gone nuts. Of course it has gone nuts because I let her prescription run out. We get it through the mail from our insurance company, which is cheaper and give us larger quantities than Walgreens, but it doesn't refill automatically so I have to keep track and then it takes like a week for a prescription to be processed and shipped. In the meantime she's wheezing and coughing and miserable and I feel like a jerk because I'm in charge of the meds. And then I start to wonder if, when I'm working and going to school full-time, will I still be in charge of all these things. Actually, it's less of a question and more of a "Oh, crap. Next year I will be working/going to school full time and I will still be in charge of all these things I can't get done when I'm a full-time homemaker.

We're doomed.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

2007-02-24T07:29:00.000-08:00

1. We are in a blizzard warning. Like everybody else in town I need to get to the grocery store to stock up on milk and bread...but really, I have NO milk OR bread.

2. I should have a package arriving from Amazon today. I spent a Christmas gift certificate--thank you, Allison & Jeff!--and have the following goodies coming my way:

Patty Griffin: Children Running Through
Nora Jones: Not Too Late
Lily Allen: Alright, Still
Stitch 'n Bitch: The Knitter's Handbook by Debbie Stoller

3. (And here we depart from the Christmas theme--though this was like a gift to all who were there--ha) I sang karaoke last night at the bowling alley bar. Dolly Parton's "9 to 5."

4. I have secured my second letter of recommendation for grad school. I emailed another professor who, bless his heart, did not remember me. I tried to make him remember me, but he could not. BUT, he said, "Why don't you tell me about who you are now?" He asked me all sorts of questions about myself. It was fun to have a moment of self-reflection. I wrote back an email/essay and he said he would write the letter and asked if he could read my email/essay to his senior thesis class. I couldn't believe his generosity. He would have been 100% within his rights to say (and most other people would have said), "I have no idea who you are. Sorry. Good luck." I will post what I sent him later.

5. I have been doing two things everyday: math & yoga. The math sucks. It sends me back to grade school when, out of carelessness or some sort of undiagnosed learning disability, I often wrote the wrong answer down for no reason. I go back and check my work. It is correct. Clearly I know the material. But for some unknown reason I have written something entirely different on the answer sheet--C instead of B. I did part of a practice test yesterday and according to the answer key I got 6 out of 15 wrong. But, when I went back and looked at the pages on which I had worked the problems out--I only missed 3. WHY? WHY IS THAT? And the standardized test people will not care what is on my scratch paper. Grrrr.

The yoga is good. I went to my class on Wednesday, taught by my beautiful friend Jen who is the yoga master. We did some killer stuff--the plank with one leg up--the side plank. I decided that should be my Lenten discipline: some sort of exercise every day. I dread the workout before it begins, but I enjoy yoga so much once I'm doing it.

6. Britney Spears? The shock of the bald head has worn off and now I just think, "poor kid."

exquisite underpants

2007-02-22T09:47:00.000-08:00

Today at Walmart, while searching in vain for new rain boots for the kiddos, I saw the most exquisite underpants. I laughed hysterically with ironic glee. It was a pair of boxers that said,

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Why?! Why?! Why?! Why was "Love Story" such a big deal with it's unlikeable characters, it's totally self-conscious "this is a MODERN love story, see? See how MODERN all this is?" style and that godawful catchphrase?!?

And why, oh, why would someone print that on a pair of underpants?

And no, I didn't buy them.

strange connections

2007-02-16T09:14:00.000-08:00

There are two musical things Oliver is really into right now. I wanted to find him some new music to listen to that combined his loves. I think I did very well. He is stoked. He's the rockinest four-year-old I know, skipping all the ballads for "a cooler song." Here is the forumula I created.

Dr. Teeth & The Electric Mayhem

Harmonica

Spoiling the Sopranos

2007-02-15T17:52:00.000-08:00

Paul and I are currently watching the first half of the sixth and final season of The Sopranos on dvd. We've watched each season after its video release. For whatever reason their filming schedule has been nutty. They waited a couple years between the fifth and sixth season. Then they filmed half a season, which aired on HBO this fall. The second half of the sixth season and the end of the show will air this spring...I think. I don't really keep up. I just occasionally look and see if new discs are out.

So we've got the first disc in: Season 6: Part 1: Disc 1. As it's been a couple years since we've seen any of this we watch the little recap for each season. Then, with great excitement, we watch the first episode.

It all seemed strangely familliar to me. The opening scene shows Carmella and Adriana walking through the frame of a house being built. Paul was confused because the last we saw, Adriana got whacked. I said, "Yes, Aid's dead. Carm is just dreaming this. They are walking through the spec home she and her dad are building only he used subgrade wood and thinks he can bribe the building inspector, but the inspector he knows has retired so Carmella gets really mad...." Paul looks at me like he has never heard of any of this. I then realize that none of what I have just described has happened yet in the episode. So, I'm psychic now?

I make a couple more comments, spoiling the scenes which are about to take place. Finally I drive the nail in the coffin by saying, "Wait...wait...I thought Uncle Junior SHOT Tony! I thought he was all crazy with dementia and shot him and the last we saw Tony he's lying on the floor trying to call 911! Why wasn't that on the recap?!?"

And then Paul realized what was going on.

"YOU WATCHED THIS AT YOUR PARENT'S HOUSE!"

My parents have cable. I was visiting the week the first episode aired last fall. I watched it. I totally RUINED this GREAT episode he had been waiting two years to watch. I gave a way the killer ending about 10 minutes into the hour-long episode.

ooops.

I'm lucky I didn't get whacked.

Nothings Spells Friendship Like F-L-U

2007-02-13T10:22:00.000-08:00

Our weekend was a comedy of errors and I use "comedy" loosely...and perhaps I mean "bad juju" instead of "errors."

Thursday: Our beloved Friends Ben, Susan, Samuel and Jude come to visit and the washer breaks. Parishoner dies, meaning Paul will have to plan and do a funeral while our friends are here, on top of the already scheduled wedding.

Friday: Repair man "fixes" washer says it was "operator error", by which he means, "it was your fault, dummy." Oliver starts throwing up.

Saturday: I try to wash Oliver's bedding and whatnot, but the washer is not actually fixed. Leave message with repairman, but they won't call back until Monday, won't come out again until Tuesday even though I paid them $100 yesterday for a fix that didn't happen.

Sunday: Susan & I go to the laundry mat. Moses, Samuel and I start throwing up.

Monday: Paul sprains his ankle on the ice coming back from the funeral (on his day off, while friends are in town). Susan and Phoebe start throwing up. Ben goes to the laundry mat. Snow starts falling.

Tuesday: The morning flight out of Omaha is canceled. Ben feels nauseous. Our friends shakily drive off at noon hoping their evening flight will indeed fly out and they make a mental note never to visit the Dunbars again.

And I didn't even mention diarrhea.

Fit & Fits

2007-02-06T19:44:00.001-08:00

1. We get to pick up our Honda Fit tomorrow. They called yesterday afternoon and we did a happy dance. Catholic Social Services showed up to haul away the couch in our garage so we're busy readying its nest. Maybe it's a lair not a nest. It's a garage anyway.

2. Yesterday I went to pick the kids up from school. Everyone came out except Mo. This is a reoccurring problem. Literally, everyone had come out of the building. I left all my other charges and went after my lost little lamb. When he saw me walk into the room he about crumpled onto the floor. He was so sad. He knows that if I have to come in and get him that he doesn't get to have a snack after school. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I just will not stand out in the cold with three other kids and wait 10 minutes for him. He had his coat on. He was holding two sweat shirts, his snow pants, his library book, and his zipped up backpack filled to the brim with who-knows-what. He cried and cried. By the time we got out of the (long deserted) building he was in a full fit. Screaming and yelling and mad.

After snack they went across the street to roller skate/skate board in the church parking lot because it was nice out. But in a span of 10 minutes everyone had come back to the house twice. Now, it's not a busy street and they are all very good about crossing it -- one of the older kids always goes with Ollie. They really do a good job, but the running back and forth and back and forth is not okay with me. So I said the next time they crossed back to our side they stayed there. Phoebe got mad at Ollie and came back over--somehow thinking my rule would not apply to her -- and had a total freak out when she found out she was wrong. A knock down drag out "you're so unfair!" fit.

Ollie came in and...well...I don't even remember what it was. He didn't get his way somehow and chucked whatever toy he was holding at me (a glow in the dark rubber lizard, I think). I remained calm and asked him to go to his room. At first he yelled "No!" and then he started in with some sort of goofy slo-mo notwalk. I finally chased him in there and he banged around and yelled for about ten minutes.

By the time Paul got home I was ready to BAIL. Thankfully, it was time for my big soup supper gig and I bolted. And when I got home everyone was delightful. I had to take a deep breath and be happy they were happy instead of saying, "Does anyone remember how terrible you were a couple hours ago? Because I do and I want restitution."

And we did have a nice evening. We played a round of Pass the Pigs and read a chapter of Prince Caspian. Good times.