8-31-09
I know you think I am going to write about my real Lord and Savior in this space but I am not. I am going to write about the savior of my kindergarten class, Mr. Possum.
Last year was my first year teaching in an elementary school. I felt prepared because I had taught young children before in church. Also, I had an excellent resource as my sister is also an elementary music teacher. Little did I know the craziness that is kindergarten. My first days of teaching were horrible. I didn't have enough activities planned because their attention spans are about as long as a gnat's. Here I was in a class of 24 five year olds and about to become the victim of a major trampling or riot of noise when I remembered the possum.
A year prior to this, a friend had bestowed upon me a gift of a stuffed possum. It was a housewarming present. I didn't know that possums were a traditional new home present but I accepted the gift with joy nonetheless. I do love all animals and I knew that this possum would find his purpose in our lives sooner or later.
Back to my classroom and me about to be trampled when I remembered the possum. I named him the Awesome Possum and we called him Mr. Possum for short. On this particular day I grabbed the possum (whom many thought was actually a big rat) and said that Mr. Possum was looking for a student to sit with. He wanted someone who was sitting straight and tall and someone who was not talking. I have never seen a group of students snap to attention so quickly. Apparently everyone liked the possum and wanted to hold or touch him. It made getting them quiet very simple and also gave me an activity to fill up the rest of the class with. It was possum petting time. Thus Mr. Possum became my savior. Or maybe my hero? All the kids love to hold Mr. Possum and always try their very best to get him in their laps. They take very good care of him too. Earlier this year Mr. Possum's tail began to unravel at the seams. Everyone had to use great caution not to hurt his tail until he could get stitches. I told them he got into a fight with a raccoon. Mr. Possum sometimes gets a bad rap. I also blame him when I accidentally turn up the volume too high on the stereo or pick the wrong CD track. The kids think he is mischievous and I don't look quite so stupid.
I'd like to add another foresty friend to my classroom so if you see a cute squirrel or groundhog or even a badger around, let me know where to find him. Mr. Possum needs a pal.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 9th blog.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Innie or Outtie?
8-30-09
Michael got new tires for our truck on Friday. This is not an especially exciting fact except that the tires are "outties". This means that the raised writing on the side of the tire is written in white so that it is readable. I didn't think that it made a difference if your tires were innies or outties. But then my brother in law said that you only put the outtie tires on if you are pretentious and want people to know what kind of tires you buy. Are you kidding? Who cares what kind of tires you have on your car and why does it matter if you can see the brand or not? So then on our travels this weekend we started looking around to see if other vehicles were innies or outties. It turns out there are very few outties in our neck of the woods. Now we are completely self conscious that we are being pretentious drivers showing off our fancy outtie tires. I don't think it matters but it does give one pause.
I bet you thought I was going to talk about belly buttons but I'm not. Although I once thought that outtie belly buttons were none existent. I had never really seen one as a child. I was beginning to think they were an urban legend. Then I saw one. There it was, at the pool, all poking out at me. I, to this day, have never seen another. I think they are almost as common as outtie tires. Now I bet you will be looking for them too.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 8th blog.
Michael got new tires for our truck on Friday. This is not an especially exciting fact except that the tires are "outties". This means that the raised writing on the side of the tire is written in white so that it is readable. I didn't think that it made a difference if your tires were innies or outties. But then my brother in law said that you only put the outtie tires on if you are pretentious and want people to know what kind of tires you buy. Are you kidding? Who cares what kind of tires you have on your car and why does it matter if you can see the brand or not? So then on our travels this weekend we started looking around to see if other vehicles were innies or outties. It turns out there are very few outties in our neck of the woods. Now we are completely self conscious that we are being pretentious drivers showing off our fancy outtie tires. I don't think it matters but it does give one pause.
I bet you thought I was going to talk about belly buttons but I'm not. Although I once thought that outtie belly buttons were none existent. I had never really seen one as a child. I was beginning to think they were an urban legend. Then I saw one. There it was, at the pool, all poking out at me. I, to this day, have never seen another. I think they are almost as common as outtie tires. Now I bet you will be looking for them too.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 8th blog.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
What no one will say but we're all doing it.
8-29-09
At my house we are not allowed to use the "F" word. When I say "F" I am not referring to the vulgar word commonly used in cursing. I mean the four letter word used to describe what happens when gaseous explosions come from the rear of your body. It is not a word we use to describe our actions or sounds or smells. In fact we don't talk about any function that might happen in the toilet area. That porcelain god remains very quiet in my house. Everyone goes about their "business" in very discrete ways.
This being said I am about to reveal a very embarrassing fact about myself. I do it only to make your day a little funnier and to expose you all as hypocrites because you do it too. You know what I am talking about. I am talking about the F word. Some people are very blatant in their approach to the relief of their vapors. Just this afternoon my nephew did it to me (of course he is only 3 months old so who can blame him). Other people are very discrete. I am one of the "others". So one day I was at work and I was feeling a little pent up. There was no one in the room so I decided give my colon a little freedom. You know how when you were younger-or maybe even now pending your maturity- you used to have belching contests? I remember that sometimes I would drink a bunch of coke and think I had a really good one coming and nothing came out. The opposite was also true. Sometimes I would win the contest off a really big burp I wasn't even expecting. Well I was not expecting the sound that came from me on this particular day. I was at my desk typing at the computer trying to liberate the extra air in my digestive area when I hear a sound I have never heard come from my body. Have you ever held a balloon that you blew up very tight at the top and just let the air squeeze through a tiny little opening? It makes the cry of a screaming banshee. I made that very same cry the other day only it didn't come from my mouth. Oh now, don't you act all self-righteous. You do it too and you know it. You know that you do it out in public where you think no one else is standing but then someone walks up and sniffs and stares in your direction. You do it in the grocery isle while pondering home much fiber intake you should have in your cereal all the while wondering if it is the fiber causing the other problem in the first place. You do it and blame it on other people too. The shared bathroom at work is always where you say "it was like that when I went in." You have no right to judge me. I only did it the one time, that banshee episode. I was just told about all those other things that people do. Yeah, I was told (good thing you can't see my shifty eyes right now). I guess I should, I mean we all should start owning up to it. We all do it, right? I am just going to start carrying some air freshener in my purse and spray it when the wind changes direction and apologize to passerbys. That will at least relieve some of the guilt I feel about that time...no I can't tell you that story. You will just have to imagine it, because you know you do it too.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 7th blog.
At my house we are not allowed to use the "F" word. When I say "F" I am not referring to the vulgar word commonly used in cursing. I mean the four letter word used to describe what happens when gaseous explosions come from the rear of your body. It is not a word we use to describe our actions or sounds or smells. In fact we don't talk about any function that might happen in the toilet area. That porcelain god remains very quiet in my house. Everyone goes about their "business" in very discrete ways.
This being said I am about to reveal a very embarrassing fact about myself. I do it only to make your day a little funnier and to expose you all as hypocrites because you do it too. You know what I am talking about. I am talking about the F word. Some people are very blatant in their approach to the relief of their vapors. Just this afternoon my nephew did it to me (of course he is only 3 months old so who can blame him). Other people are very discrete. I am one of the "others". So one day I was at work and I was feeling a little pent up. There was no one in the room so I decided give my colon a little freedom. You know how when you were younger-or maybe even now pending your maturity- you used to have belching contests? I remember that sometimes I would drink a bunch of coke and think I had a really good one coming and nothing came out. The opposite was also true. Sometimes I would win the contest off a really big burp I wasn't even expecting. Well I was not expecting the sound that came from me on this particular day. I was at my desk typing at the computer trying to liberate the extra air in my digestive area when I hear a sound I have never heard come from my body. Have you ever held a balloon that you blew up very tight at the top and just let the air squeeze through a tiny little opening? It makes the cry of a screaming banshee. I made that very same cry the other day only it didn't come from my mouth. Oh now, don't you act all self-righteous. You do it too and you know it. You know that you do it out in public where you think no one else is standing but then someone walks up and sniffs and stares in your direction. You do it in the grocery isle while pondering home much fiber intake you should have in your cereal all the while wondering if it is the fiber causing the other problem in the first place. You do it and blame it on other people too. The shared bathroom at work is always where you say "it was like that when I went in." You have no right to judge me. I only did it the one time, that banshee episode. I was just told about all those other things that people do. Yeah, I was told (good thing you can't see my shifty eyes right now). I guess I should, I mean we all should start owning up to it. We all do it, right? I am just going to start carrying some air freshener in my purse and spray it when the wind changes direction and apologize to passerbys. That will at least relieve some of the guilt I feel about that time...no I can't tell you that story. You will just have to imagine it, because you know you do it too.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 7th blog.
Friday, August 28, 2009
What are your kids wearing?
8-28-09
I must say this up front: I am a childless woman. I think this makes me in the extreme minority, especially for my age. I'm thirty-one. I know you're shocked. With my witty humor and flawless looks, I'm sure you assumed I was in that young whipper-snapper extremely web-savvy age group. Alas, I am old and I am childless (at least for now...). Now, I am not upset about that fact. It is a decision I have consciously made. But I say this only because I am about to question some parents. I know I am delving into dangerous ground here but here I delve anyway.
What is up with parents that dress their daughters like hoochie mamas? Who looks at their little girl coming down the stairs with her bra straps hanging out underneath her skin tight t-shirt over her pre-pubescent gut and eyeliner on thicker than Ashlee Simpson-Wentz and says "hey, you look pretty today?" What parent in their right mind lets their developing daughter wear shirts cut so low you can see every beginning part of their anatomy? I am so tired of watching the 4th and 5th graders come up the stairs at my school wearing inappropriate clothing. Then I came to my husband's school only to see that inappropriate dress does not improve with age. I think I will become an advocate for school uniforms. At least then they all HAVE to dress a certain way at school. I know this doesn't solve the problem, but it will help my eyes.
I know that I have no right to speak on these matters as I am the childless one but gosh darn it someone has to say it.
I feel better now that I vented.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 6th blog.
I must say this up front: I am a childless woman. I think this makes me in the extreme minority, especially for my age. I'm thirty-one. I know you're shocked. With my witty humor and flawless looks, I'm sure you assumed I was in that young whipper-snapper extremely web-savvy age group. Alas, I am old and I am childless (at least for now...). Now, I am not upset about that fact. It is a decision I have consciously made. But I say this only because I am about to question some parents. I know I am delving into dangerous ground here but here I delve anyway.
What is up with parents that dress their daughters like hoochie mamas? Who looks at their little girl coming down the stairs with her bra straps hanging out underneath her skin tight t-shirt over her pre-pubescent gut and eyeliner on thicker than Ashlee Simpson-Wentz and says "hey, you look pretty today?" What parent in their right mind lets their developing daughter wear shirts cut so low you can see every beginning part of their anatomy? I am so tired of watching the 4th and 5th graders come up the stairs at my school wearing inappropriate clothing. Then I came to my husband's school only to see that inappropriate dress does not improve with age. I think I will become an advocate for school uniforms. At least then they all HAVE to dress a certain way at school. I know this doesn't solve the problem, but it will help my eyes.
I know that I have no right to speak on these matters as I am the childless one but gosh darn it someone has to say it.
I feel better now that I vented.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 6th blog.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Lucy Cat
8-27-09
I would like to take this opportunity to reiterate my love for cats. I had an ok day today. When I came home I was tired and facing a long list of to do's. I put my nose to the grind and accomplished a lot. After dinner, Michael and I were still down trodden over having to go back to the basement and work for another hour or two. Then Michael started laughing at the sight next to me on the couch. I turned and saw this (picture above). How can you look at this and not laugh? There is something uplifting about looking at a cat with their tongue hanging out. It gave me that extra boost I needed to make it through the day. Thanks Lucy, I needed that.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 5th blog.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Do you like your job?
8-26-09
As I was sitting through a very long faculty meeting today, I was trying to decide if I would ever want to become a classroom teacher. I know several music majors that went back to school and got other degrees to be grade level teachers. Would I ever want to do that? The answer came to me in a flash after having sat through an hour of instruction on shared and guided reading. NO! I often wondered if I was making the right decision when I went to college. I enjoyed and had success in several fields and it was hard making the choice to pursue music. But after 9 years out of college and several jobs later, I can safely say that I am glad I chose music. I am not saying this to belittle teachers at all. I feel like the best choice for me and me only was to teach music. I had a second grader ask me last week why I like music. It was such an innocent little question but it had a very profound answer that I am sure that little 8 year old couldn't comprehend. The basic answer that I told him was that it makes me feel good. The more complex answer is that it makes me feel good. But I can't put into words all that music does for me, the joy, the sorrow, the happiness that it expresses and also all that it does not express. Let's just say today I got confirmation from God that I was on the right path.
As I was sitting through a very long faculty meeting today, I was trying to decide if I would ever want to become a classroom teacher. I know several music majors that went back to school and got other degrees to be grade level teachers. Would I ever want to do that? The answer came to me in a flash after having sat through an hour of instruction on shared and guided reading. NO! I often wondered if I was making the right decision when I went to college. I enjoyed and had success in several fields and it was hard making the choice to pursue music. But after 9 years out of college and several jobs later, I can safely say that I am glad I chose music. I am not saying this to belittle teachers at all. I feel like the best choice for me and me only was to teach music. I had a second grader ask me last week why I like music. It was such an innocent little question but it had a very profound answer that I am sure that little 8 year old couldn't comprehend. The basic answer that I told him was that it makes me feel good. The more complex answer is that it makes me feel good. But I can't put into words all that music does for me, the joy, the sorrow, the happiness that it expresses and also all that it does not express. Let's just say today I got confirmation from God that I was on the right path.
On that note, I felt today that not everyone where I work is as happy with their choice as I am. I realize that there are obstacles that we face everyday and that teaching is a tough job but sometimes I wish that people wouldn't complain so much about it. There are people out there who I just can't even be around any more because of their negativity. I have had many jobs, more than I care to admit to. Some of those jobs were horrid (not enough money, nasty co-workers, terrible job duties, etc...) and you know what I did? I found a different job. I know that's a real radical idea but I chose to make my life a more pleasant place to be everyday. At some point I just start to feel very sorry for those people. At our church tonight a woman in the choir gave a very touching devotional. She was almost crying as she spoke about her personal relationship with God. It turns out that she lost her 13 year old son about a year ago and yet she was a happy person. As she was speaking you could actually she joy in her heart. That's the power of Jesus Christ. Maybe that's what's missing from these angry negative people where I work, maybe they need the power of Jesus Christ, maybe they need a church, maybe they need a friend, maybe they need to find a different job. Whatever the reason, they are not happy and I do feel sorry for them.
My life is so blessed right now. I have warm fuzzy cats that make me feel good when I come home. I have a beautiful house that we have not lost to foreclosure. I have two jobs that I love (there's more to me than being a teacher-I'll explain later). I have a husband who is my best friend. And most importantly, I have the peace that passes all understanding in my heart.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 4th blog.
PS. I found out that the spider who almost killed me was a wolf spider. They are the natural predators to the brown recluse. The wolf spider is not poisonous but the brown recluse is. Figures that the good one is the one that got stomped. I am buying spider spray tomorrow.
My life is so blessed right now. I have warm fuzzy cats that make me feel good when I come home. I have a beautiful house that we have not lost to foreclosure. I have two jobs that I love (there's more to me than being a teacher-I'll explain later). I have a husband who is my best friend. And most importantly, I have the peace that passes all understanding in my heart.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 4th blog.
PS. I found out that the spider who almost killed me was a wolf spider. They are the natural predators to the brown recluse. The wolf spider is not poisonous but the brown recluse is. Figures that the good one is the one that got stomped. I am buying spider spray tomorrow.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Spider that Almost Killed Me
8-25-09
Today I was attacked by the biggest spider known to man (pause for dramatic effect). Alright, I wasn't attacked and it wasn't the biggest spider known to man but it was really scary. Here's how it happened. I was innocently preparing for my classes tomorrow-I teach elementary general music. I opened my storage closet to retrieve some rhythm band instruments that I needed for class. I arranged the baskets with the instruments at the front of the room. I noticed that the basket holding the mallets was a little unruly and I began to arrange them in a more orderly fashion. Are you scared yet? I reached inside the basket and the largest spider I have ever seen poked it's giant hairy legs in my direction. The scream caught in my throat and came out only as a gasp. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a cup and trapped the baby tarantula under it. I grabbed a second cup and scooped it up. I was then holding the mascot of death in my hands. I was confused as to what to do next. I had two thoughts: 1) I could page the teachers and see who wanted a pet for their classroom 2) I needed to find someone who could identify the beast in my hands. I went with option number two. I decided that if there was a nest of these creatures hiding in my closet I should know whether or not they are poisonous. I took the cup o'spider to the front office at my school. The ladies at the front were not fans of the eight legged webbed killer either. After directing me to the only male teacher in the school, because he might be able to identify the spider, I continued down the hall. At this point the wild animal in my hands decided that he wanted to leap from the cup and attack me. I dropped the cup as fast as I possibly could and then the scream which I had so easily suppressed earlier rose to the surface like an exploding volcano. The next few seconds passed with such speed its hard to tell what happened first. Basically, the spider began to run away, I trapped it again, and another teacher came out of her room and stomped on it. And there ends my run in with the spider that almost killed me.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 3rd blog.
Today I was attacked by the biggest spider known to man (pause for dramatic effect). Alright, I wasn't attacked and it wasn't the biggest spider known to man but it was really scary. Here's how it happened. I was innocently preparing for my classes tomorrow-I teach elementary general music. I opened my storage closet to retrieve some rhythm band instruments that I needed for class. I arranged the baskets with the instruments at the front of the room. I noticed that the basket holding the mallets was a little unruly and I began to arrange them in a more orderly fashion. Are you scared yet? I reached inside the basket and the largest spider I have ever seen poked it's giant hairy legs in my direction. The scream caught in my throat and came out only as a gasp. Thinking quickly, I grabbed a cup and trapped the baby tarantula under it. I grabbed a second cup and scooped it up. I was then holding the mascot of death in my hands. I was confused as to what to do next. I had two thoughts: 1) I could page the teachers and see who wanted a pet for their classroom 2) I needed to find someone who could identify the beast in my hands. I went with option number two. I decided that if there was a nest of these creatures hiding in my closet I should know whether or not they are poisonous. I took the cup o'spider to the front office at my school. The ladies at the front were not fans of the eight legged webbed killer either. After directing me to the only male teacher in the school, because he might be able to identify the spider, I continued down the hall. At this point the wild animal in my hands decided that he wanted to leap from the cup and attack me. I dropped the cup as fast as I possibly could and then the scream which I had so easily suppressed earlier rose to the surface like an exploding volcano. The next few seconds passed with such speed its hard to tell what happened first. Basically, the spider began to run away, I trapped it again, and another teacher came out of her room and stomped on it. And there ends my run in with the spider that almost killed me.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 3rd blog.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Fodder
August 24th, 2009
I was reflecting on my very first blog last night. I was thinking of new topics to write about in the future when I realized I was pulling a Jim Qwilleran. One of my favorite series of books is "The Cat Who..." mysteries by Lillian Jackson Braun. Her main character is James Mackintosh Qwilleran. He is a writer for the Moose County Something by day and a crime fighter by night. He inexplicably finds himself surrounded by mystery and is able solve them with the aid of his super intelligent Siamese cat. I do have several cats in my house. Maybe that's why I was coming up with great and new ideas to write about. Qwill is always stumped when trying to find ideas for his column in the Something, The Qwill Pen. He uses many different people and books to help him come up with the thousand word essay he has to write two times a week. He calls it Fodder for the Qwill Pen. You would think that it would be easy but he inevitably relies on his cat, Koko to inspire him. So that's what I was doing last night. I was coming up with Fodder for the Music Barr with inspiration from my three bedside cats.
My cats are my family, aside from my loving husband. The oldest is Chloe. I found her in an ad and gave her to my husband as a present before we were married. She is a Daddy's girl and only begrudgingly lets me feed her and change her litter. She is impossibly prissy and likes to get her face scratched as much as possible. I am convinced that if there were a machine that scratched faces she would sit in front of it all day and wear it out. Then there are Clancy and Lucy. They are the "kittens". Even though they are 9 years old, we still think of them as the little ones. There are several reasons for that: 1) We got both of them (they are sisters) and another sister at the same times and it was a crazy bunch of kittens 2) they are very small and still look like kittens. Clancy is a fickle little girl. She doesn't meow the right way. She kind of squeaks. She loves to be petted but it hasn't always been that way. She HATES to be picked up and will wiggle like there is no tomorrow if you try it. Lucy is not the brightest cat we have (don't tell her I said that). She does silly things like leaving her tongue partially hanging out of her mouth and trying to jump up on something but not calculating the distance correctly and missing the mark. I love her though, she likes to sit on my head. Quite literally, it is a battle in the evening for who gets to actually lay on my pillow, me or Lucy. She usually invades and little by little, I'm on the other side of the bed. There are two other cats at our homestead that belong to my Brother in law (he lives here too). There is Ande, an impossibly loud and ancient Siamese and there is Flannel, a lovable tabby who lives outside and hunts all kinds of prey.
Cats are a great stress relief to me. No matter how bad your day was or how bad you feel about yourself, cats will always love you. They rub your ankles and your head and remind you of all that is right and good in the world. They bring you back to a point where you can evaluate whether or not to actually be angry at someone at work for something they said or at that person that cut you off as you were driving home. Cats are a gift from God. It's like he knew that I liked furry little creatures that I could pet and touch and created them just for me. God put these cats in my life to help me weed out all the bad and always keep a balanced perspective on the world. I'd like to take a second and thank God for all his glorious creations. Seriously, God, you did good.
That's all the Fodder I came up with last night. I'll think on it some more and be back to give you more revelations from the mind of Keren.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 2nd blog.
I was reflecting on my very first blog last night. I was thinking of new topics to write about in the future when I realized I was pulling a Jim Qwilleran. One of my favorite series of books is "The Cat Who..." mysteries by Lillian Jackson Braun. Her main character is James Mackintosh Qwilleran. He is a writer for the Moose County Something by day and a crime fighter by night. He inexplicably finds himself surrounded by mystery and is able solve them with the aid of his super intelligent Siamese cat. I do have several cats in my house. Maybe that's why I was coming up with great and new ideas to write about. Qwill is always stumped when trying to find ideas for his column in the Something, The Qwill Pen. He uses many different people and books to help him come up with the thousand word essay he has to write two times a week. He calls it Fodder for the Qwill Pen. You would think that it would be easy but he inevitably relies on his cat, Koko to inspire him. So that's what I was doing last night. I was coming up with Fodder for the Music Barr with inspiration from my three bedside cats.
My cats are my family, aside from my loving husband. The oldest is Chloe. I found her in an ad and gave her to my husband as a present before we were married. She is a Daddy's girl and only begrudgingly lets me feed her and change her litter. She is impossibly prissy and likes to get her face scratched as much as possible. I am convinced that if there were a machine that scratched faces she would sit in front of it all day and wear it out. Then there are Clancy and Lucy. They are the "kittens". Even though they are 9 years old, we still think of them as the little ones. There are several reasons for that: 1) We got both of them (they are sisters) and another sister at the same times and it was a crazy bunch of kittens 2) they are very small and still look like kittens. Clancy is a fickle little girl. She doesn't meow the right way. She kind of squeaks. She loves to be petted but it hasn't always been that way. She HATES to be picked up and will wiggle like there is no tomorrow if you try it. Lucy is not the brightest cat we have (don't tell her I said that). She does silly things like leaving her tongue partially hanging out of her mouth and trying to jump up on something but not calculating the distance correctly and missing the mark. I love her though, she likes to sit on my head. Quite literally, it is a battle in the evening for who gets to actually lay on my pillow, me or Lucy. She usually invades and little by little, I'm on the other side of the bed. There are two other cats at our homestead that belong to my Brother in law (he lives here too). There is Ande, an impossibly loud and ancient Siamese and there is Flannel, a lovable tabby who lives outside and hunts all kinds of prey.
Cats are a great stress relief to me. No matter how bad your day was or how bad you feel about yourself, cats will always love you. They rub your ankles and your head and remind you of all that is right and good in the world. They bring you back to a point where you can evaluate whether or not to actually be angry at someone at work for something they said or at that person that cut you off as you were driving home. Cats are a gift from God. It's like he knew that I liked furry little creatures that I could pet and touch and created them just for me. God put these cats in my life to help me weed out all the bad and always keep a balanced perspective on the world. I'd like to take a second and thank God for all his glorious creations. Seriously, God, you did good.
That's all the Fodder I came up with last night. I'll think on it some more and be back to give you more revelations from the mind of Keren.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my 2nd blog.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
New Blog
8-23-09
So this weekend I went to see a new movie called "Julie and Julia". It was a great movie about two individual people living their own little lives and one of them blogged about it. I thought I was very much like the Julie character who blogs. Therefore I started my own today. I have thoughts and feelings to share with the world. I am sure you are ready to hang on to my words as if your life depended on it. Ok, not really but I still thought it might my fun to get my views on life out into the blogosphere. So look out world, here come my views.
This evening I went to dinner with my husband and brother in law. We went to a local sports bar. Now, I knew that I wasn't going to be dining at the Chateau Elan or anything but I did assume that we weren't going to a Hooters type establishment. I apparently was wrong. That's what I get for assuming. My father used to say "You know what happens when you assume..." He never actually finished his thought to tell me what indeed did happen. I guess I was to assume the answer. Anyway, the waitresses this evening were in rare form. I have never seen so many tiny t-shirts on so many large breasted women. It was so distracting that I had to repeat questions to my brother in law several times before he could cognitively answer me back. My question to the world is this. Why the big boobs and tiny t's? Does it make the food taste better? Does it somehow distract you from the woes of the world? Are you a better person for having stared at that many boobs? Do you ladies need the stares to feel better about yourself?
I have no answers to these questions. I will say that my soup was a little runny and cold but I ate it anyway. And I will probably go back to that establishment regardless of the temperature of my soup. Mostly, I will go because they have giant television screens that play multiple college football games (GO DAWGS!!!). And I think my husband and brother in law will make me go back too. They will say it has something to do with how great the sweet tea is, but I will know the real answer.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my first blog.
So this weekend I went to see a new movie called "Julie and Julia". It was a great movie about two individual people living their own little lives and one of them blogged about it. I thought I was very much like the Julie character who blogs. Therefore I started my own today. I have thoughts and feelings to share with the world. I am sure you are ready to hang on to my words as if your life depended on it. Ok, not really but I still thought it might my fun to get my views on life out into the blogosphere. So look out world, here come my views.
This evening I went to dinner with my husband and brother in law. We went to a local sports bar. Now, I knew that I wasn't going to be dining at the Chateau Elan or anything but I did assume that we weren't going to a Hooters type establishment. I apparently was wrong. That's what I get for assuming. My father used to say "You know what happens when you assume..." He never actually finished his thought to tell me what indeed did happen. I guess I was to assume the answer. Anyway, the waitresses this evening were in rare form. I have never seen so many tiny t-shirts on so many large breasted women. It was so distracting that I had to repeat questions to my brother in law several times before he could cognitively answer me back. My question to the world is this. Why the big boobs and tiny t's? Does it make the food taste better? Does it somehow distract you from the woes of the world? Are you a better person for having stared at that many boobs? Do you ladies need the stares to feel better about yourself?
I have no answers to these questions. I will say that my soup was a little runny and cold but I ate it anyway. And I will probably go back to that establishment regardless of the temperature of my soup. Mostly, I will go because they have giant television screens that play multiple college football games (GO DAWGS!!!). And I think my husband and brother in law will make me go back too. They will say it has something to do with how great the sweet tea is, but I will know the real answer.
Have a blessed evening and thanks for reading my first blog.
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