from the porches

historic day

As you probably know by now, this was a historic day for most of us watching the ignaugrational ceremonies.  And it is for me as well; however, on a more personal note. My historic day is connecting to the internet in a Holiday Inn and trying to type a sentence correctly using my laptop.

This sucks!  For example, I've spent 40 min. and have only gotten this far.  I have resorted to typing with two fingers because four years of typing classes doesn't work on this Dell.  I'll look up ever so often and will be on the first line...again.

I'll give you an example.  Here is my keyboarding skills from typing 101-104.

The drive here uwas wibderfyk. 

Then I look up at the screen and I'm on the wrong dagblasted keys.  Eiiiiii!

       

 This is mom's bed with mom beside it.  It is 38 degrees and frigid in Tallahassee so mom and I may not leave this hotel room for four days.

      

This is my bed.  Why won't my mouse work?

      

 We have a cute little refrigerator for mom's frappichinos (I'm not spellchecking that one).

      

 Our tiny little bathroom.

      

 This is my little desk which now houses my laptop without a working mouse.  Ughhhh!

      

And this is our lovely view from our window.

I have learned one thing on this trip so far:  I need to go to laptop school !

 Sinewgere up there U oyt a !

last minute list

Tomorrow afternoon I will be traveling to Tallahassee to a State FCAT Writing meeting.  I'm taking my mother with me for a mini-vacation; so the trip should be another memorable one.  I will have my camera with me and hope to find interesting things to photograph.

Today, the last day of a three day weekend, I worked mostly on Advent Glass Works paperwork.  It is not my favorite job, but one that must be done. 

The day progressed from a sunny cloudless day to this.

      

The weather has definitely affected my mood today. . . somber.

My list of things to do before I leave is not a hard list to follow; but on it are irritating chores like make a chart on how to feed the inside and outside animals, change the kitty litter, bag up the garbage, pick up the Acadia which has been in the shop getting serviced, make sure the mail is actually put in the drop box, get cash, etc.

I do intend to take my laptop so I can still feel part of life at home and with my family.

a frigid walk

Yesterday Truett and I took a walk around O'Leno State Park before heading to the grocery.  Brrr!  All my fingers on my right hand were totally white and numb.  And that's not all.  Stupid me left her jacket at home because we had beautiful blue skies and lots of sun. 

      

What I failed to figure out before heading for our ride, was the hour we would be finished with our chores.  I learned a big lesson.  Knowing the temperatures were dropping, I was just too oblivious and escatic about school being over and a three day weekend upon me.

O'Leno State Park buildings were built by the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) during Roosevelt's presidency to put the people back to work.  O'Leno is known for its suspension bridge.

From the 1500’s through the 1700’s, there was a natural bridge area that served as a crossroad between the Santa Fe River Sink and the River Rise. Still in existence today, this is a place where the river disappears, goes underground, and then comes out in the middle of nowhere several miles away. Its flow is expelled from the underground into the surface to continue its massive flow. This natural bridge was traveled by Spanish explorers, Indians and settlers alike.

       

  How about this sign?

      

Unfortunately, we do have a few foolish young men who would do just this.

      

The buildings at O'Leno are rustic and massive.

      

      

      

We go to O'leno for walks on the numerous trails that wind around the sink.

      

I will say it can be quite spooky meandering through the sloughs.

      

And with an active imagination like mine, I can conjure up all kinds of creatures that resemble snakes.

As we left O'Leno State Park we were surprised to see a line of travel trailers and motor homes that were waiting at the entrance.  It was hard for me to imagine camping out in this kind of frigid weather.

 

kit-kat

I am not speaking of the candy bar when I mention kit-kat.  I guess from now on I will be speaking of the mother feral cat. . . 

        

    

And her kitten, who by the way is looking pretty mean these days.  That doesn't look like that cute little kitten of six weeks ago.

      

                                  These guys are sneaky and quick.

      

They leap to the deck and start eating the Aussie's food before I have a chance to give them theirs.

      

And tonight when we drove in, I caught these two staying warm in the dog bed.  It's getting down to 22 degrees tonight so I can't blame them one bit.  Brrr!  I did find a smaller dog bed so I put it out under the heat lamps as well.  The news says to bring in your pets tonight because of the hard freeze, but I say "pooey on that."

These two cats have made our place their home for a while; so I've name the spotted kitten Kit and the grey mama Kat.

You know what this means once I've named them, don't you.

ord #92-6

      

Yesterday afternoon Truett and I took a drive to Rum Island, just a few miles away from our house.  Thanks to Columbia County ordinance #92-6 this spot has been cleaned up and is inviting to tourists and locals.

      

When I first got out of the car I commented to Truett,  "There sure are a lot of no's on that sign."

I'm not certain when our county decided to protect the springs on Rum Island, but I am thankful that they saw fit to do so.

      

For many many years the local folk and out-of-towners partied at Rum Island, leaving behind their garbage, trash and often times, clothing strewn on the grounds.  Unfortunately, even dirty diapers were just thrown and left for others to walk around. 

We did not go to Rum Island often because of the riff-raff that hung out there and because of the filth.  (Maybe the name of the island has influenced people's behavior.)

      

 Well, yesterday no one was at Rum Island except Truett and me and a father and his daughter.  Truett and I sat at a picnic table and listened to the sounds. . . or to nothing.

       

  We noticed far more cypress roots than usual.

      

They always remind me of covenants of secret wworshipers.

      

If you stare at them long enough they take on the appearance of bodies with faces. 

        

 When we moved to a different location we were directly across from the island. I stared across the river hoping to see a water bird, a heron, an egret.  I yearned for a living animal to photograph.  But I saw none.  So I patiently stood there and let the photograph come to me. 

      

That's one thing I've been realizing about photography...patience. Since there were no birds or animals, then there must be something else.  Then I began to see reflections that filled the camera lens.  It doesn't work though if you are in a hurry. 

      

But I did catch the tail feathers of a tiny bird before it flittered away. 

      

I also caught a quick picture of a squirrel as we were leaving.  The lighting wasn't right, but that was okay with me.  An animal is an animal.

I'm so proud of Columbia County for recognizing Rum Island as a special spot on this planet and taking steps to preserve its beauty.

     

 I showed this one yesterday...it's my favorite.

  

no mercy

We have finally reached the refining stage of writing for the fourth graders at Fort White Elementary School.  This is my favorite thing to do.  First of all, we ability-group the writers and share the wealth or poverty in writing ability among all six teachers for forty-five minutes a day. 

 Since the children usually write essays and narratives better for me than their homeroom teachers, (probably because I am the writing teacher),  I get the "high" writers in my group.  About twenty of these little bright minds.  Twenty kids who are competitive, excellent readers and have imagination.

Then my work begins, refining and honing their vocabulary, sentence fluency and ideas.  I LOVE THIS PART OF MY JOB!

Therefore, I work exceptionally hard for about six weeks, taking on an extra class each day.  Even when each class comes separately to me twice a week, I still have no mercy.  And the good part is, neither do the children.  

I will show a child's writing on the overhead projector and the class discusses the strengths and weaknesses of the paper.  Today I showed a paper to one class and one of my favorite students commented.  Here's part of that conversation:

"Yes, Bobby."

"Well, "I just want to know : WHERE ARE YOUR PERIODS?"  You have to know the child to appreciate his personality.   

Now those students that were not from his class were probably stunned.  I LOVED IT!

So at the end of the day I was exhausted.  I had taught thorough and hard with no mercy because the FCAT Writing test is February 10. By now they should know the format.  By now they should have pocketed some vivid verbs.  By now they should be confident in identifying a writing prompt and being able to write to it.  (They're not all there, but 98 % are). 

I'm closing with a photograph I took this afternoon when Truett suggested we take a ride.

      

Thank you, Truett.  I needed this.

the smasher

Today my mom and I went to get our yearly mammograms, better known by me as the smasher.  Before you read any further I must tell you I may mention words that may be offensive to you; so if you feel the need to censor me right now, then click on MSN games and play solitaire or Scrabble Blast.

      

                                                         Mom

We arrived at DIG (Diagnostic Imaging Center), went in, and began filling out the usual paperwork which is such a hassle.  As mom says,  "I fill this same paper out everywhere I go.  I don't see why I have to keep doing it."  And I agree.

Question #1:  When was your last menstrual period?

Mom's answer:  How should I know.

My answer:  After Susie Wright's.

I'm not going into all the questions because neither of us seemed like we remembered anything about our past, such as even when we had our last mammogram, so we made it up.  We looked at each other and asked,  "Last year?"

"Yeah, let's put that down."  Seriously, we are both very conscientious about taking care of ourselves; but at 4:00 in the afternoon, we both had a hard time with the simplest of questions.

My name was called first, and I must tell you that at DIG you walk through tiny little hallways that twist and turn, a maze, if you will; and finally you are put in a tiny cubicle with two doors. 

Truly, I am not afraid of a mammogram like I am of a shot in the gums at a dentist's office, but I do know I am about to have moments of severe discomfort.  SMASHING for lack of a better word.  My nurse made me feel real comfortable when she said, "Here.  Let me help you.  I know how to handle titties.  I've handled over a million since I've worked here." 

Now that's a reassuring thought and I say,  "Give that woman a gold medal."  The thing is, she only looked to be mid-thirties.  Can you imagine putting breasts on plates and smashing them eight hours a day.  Somehow I think by 4:00 in the afternoon they'd enjoy watching patients' faces contort under this torture. 

What the nurse doesn't tell you is to take a big...big...BIG deep breath before she squeezes the clampers shut.  So there I am chattering away like a nervous nilly when SMASH!  It takes my breath away and then the good nurse politely says, "Now hold your breath and don't move."

Hold my breath? I have no breath left.  In fact,  I thought I would flat pass out.  Four times!  And no woman in her right mind would dare to move.  That thing would take them clean off.  But I'll tell you, the front smash isn't nearly as hard as the side smash.  On the side smash I had to remind the good nurse that she was trying to lift stuff up that wasn't part of the breast. Eventually, all that ended.

Then I waited in the cubicle until a real doctor gave us the go-ahead.  I heard someone outside one door say,  "Mrs. George.  The doctor is here to give you your results."

"Okay,"  I answer.

"Mrs. George."

"Yes."

"Open the door for the doctor." 

Then I looked at both doors.  Oh my.  Which one did I come out of?  Which one has a million $ doctor behind it?  Finally, I figured it out and am fortunate to tell you that everything looked fine on my x-rays. 

In fact, mom and I both passed the test with flying colors and celebrated at Red Lobster.  One mammogram down and I'm sure many more to come.

where's a camera when you need it

About four days ago Truett and I were returning home from Gainesville.  About four miles out of town   we saw a bald eagle swoop over the road in front of us after carrion.  It was dusk and the lighting wasn't right so I didn't take a picture. 

Later a friend questioned me,  "Are you sure it was an eagle?"  Well, I looked at this person, smiled and said, "Definitely."  Then I had to listen to his comments about the bird possibly being an osprey.  I just ignored him because I know an eagle when I see one; plus, I saw PLENTY of them in Alaska, so I know what they look like.

Well, this morning around 9:20 I drove home from work during my plan time to grab a note I had forgotten.  As I headed out my driveway I saw a rather large low-flying bird over the powerlines heading toward my car.  Several crows were pestering it.  At first I thought it was a vulture.  I stopped the car and watched as an eagle landed in the tallest pine tree along our driveway.  I drove slowly toward the pine tree and paused the car directly underneath to make certain it was indeed an eagle.

It was!  So where was my camera when I needed it?  At home. . . in the house . . . on the table.  I definitely remember making a conscious decision this morning NOT to take a camera to school because I knew I would be busier than normal at work.  (I've  added a forty-five minute elaboration group to my day, which is usually a plan time for me).

I learned my lesson this morning; but I do wonder why an eagle is flying over our neighborhood and property.  I wondered why it wasn't soaring over the river.  Irregardless, I will be packing my camera every day just in case the eagle presents itself to me again.

Something else is on my table too.

      

Roger is sleeping like this more and more.  He's keeping his little nose warm.  How sweet. 

   

it's not easy being a twin

I've told you I'm writing a children's book It's Not Easy Being a Twin.    Now look at this picture.

      

Excerpt:

"No.  It's not easy being a twin. Especially when you don't know which is you when you look at a photograph.  Mama always says I'm the one on the left, and I have a question for her. "Why wasn't my hair combed pretty like hers?  Why does my hair always look like a rat's nest, mama?  Maybe that's her with the rat's nest hair."

telling life stories

This morning I was searching the Typepad main page to see what was new.  I clicked on a few blog sites just to see what other people are writing about and began reading. 

I have found a couple of blogs that I've bookmarked and enjoy reading from time to time; but then I started thinking that these strangers lead far more interesting lives than I do. Then I think maybe I should just quit telling my daily life stories.  Most of mine seem bland compared to the interesting lives other people live.

Some people write about causes they're supporting, tragedies they're overcoming or trips to exotic countries.  And what do I write about?  Things I see at the river or alongside the highways.  I do need to get a life.

Speaking of the river, Truett and I drove to the Santa Fe River yesterday after a full day of errands in Gainesville.  As soon as we placed our bags of groceries on the kitchen counter I told Truett I needed to take photographs.  It was a craving of sorts. So we put the ice cream in the freezer and left everything else just sitting there on the counter and headed to the river which is two miles down the road. 

      

Truett knew of an abandoned Florida Cracker house that he wanted to photograph, so we went to it first.

      

After that we headed back to the Santa Fe.  It was 75 degrees and people were out and about, enjoying the warm weather.

      

Some were fishing from boats.

      

Some were fishing from the banks of the Santa Fe river.

      

Some people were enjoying watching the ducks.  Ducks?  I can't say I've ever seen ducks at the river.  Egrets and herons, yes; but not ducks.  Surprise..surprise!

      

So I watched the ducks and their behavior. 

      

I looked on down the river bank and saw an inviting looking deck.

      

Then I just took photographs of the bridge.

      

So I guess telling my life story is nothing more than me watching other people live their lives and looking for animals to photograph.