This Might Be Inappropriate

In the school that I work at, tests for student’s to pick up from teachers are left in the office. We have a system to organize them – they’re all in an accordion file folder divided alphabetically with tall, lettered tabs.

An older teacher, a rabbi, had misfiled a test, and I wanted to let him know so as to avoid confusion in the future.

So, I informed him that he, and I quote myself, ”had placed a test for someone with an ‘F’ last name in the ‘G’ spot.”

Blink, blink….

I quickly moved on……but I was giggling and squirming in my seat all day.

Was that totally inappropriate?  What kind of hits am I going to get on my blog over the weekend?!

As for the illness and moving that I mentioned in the last post, illness is gone, praise the Lord!  And there’s still a big question mark regarding our move, but we have two more weeks before we have to be out of our current place.  Again, praise the Lord!

The H & H Household

Pass the Buckleys, please.

We’re down for the count.  Both Hubby and I are ill.  I feel yucky, like I was squeezed out of a Play-Doh shaper.  That’s quite the word-picture, isn’t it?

All of this comes at a most inconvenient time.  We’re moving.  Our home needs to be packed up and moved out within a week.  Wow.  Overwhelming.

I think the combination of a pressing deadline, Kleenex fumes, and lack of sleep make for an incoherent concoction.  I have many thoughts swirling around, but none of them make too much sense right now.

Right now, if my brain dumped everything into Wordle, “sleep” would be the biggest word off of which everything else was hanging.

A Gang-Claimed Waterfall

It’s been raining here a lot lately.  So, on my way home from work, I snapped a picture that I though would be a great addition to my “That’s so LA” collection.  Because it’s so LA!

Well, it is.  And it isn’t.

It really isn’t so LA, because 1) we’re in a valley in a desert.  Umbrellas don’t get the workout they deserve down here, so the rushing water doesn’t generally conjure up thoughts of palm trees and arid climes.  2) The beauty of the picture portrays a nature-y, natural setting.  According to my observation, nothing is terribly natural down here.

We have a lot of these…

(Heh, heh.  Clever, right?)

Which I suppose leads us easily to the argument of why the picture to come is so LA.  Because even when this poor, smog-oppressed city does try to flaunt it’s natural beauty, there is graffiti.  On the rock.  Which was along the windy road of a mountain.  Completely marring what could have been a sweet little oasis of beauty and calm.

Seriously?!

My Own Ugly-Beautiful

Perhaps because there was a legitimate reason for the disarray, I was able to bring the camera to my one un-squinted eye and capture the chaos (and even chaos that didn’t have an excuse)…  Inspired by the occasionally-read Holy Experience blog, I wanted to look at the ugly around our house and, as Ann says “[examine] the weave, the texture, the shadows” noticing “it too is beautiful.”

It turned out to be a really fun project.  And I started to wonder if I didn’t want more than a point-and-shoot after all.

(Hubby?……..  I changed my mind.  I can do sewing and photography, right?  Insert sheepish smile with big, innocent puppy eyes.)

Our “pantry” for all to see, in all its visually-busy glory overlooking the living room…

blessings from our Father, that – even in our financial “student-status” straights – our pantry has overflow

Christmas decorations, still waiting on the sidelines to be put on the tree, even yet…

on the tree or off, Swedish decorations – sacrificially bought by Hubby – remind me of home…and husand’s love

Wrinkled sheets, straight out of the linen closet (which were perhaps not folded immediately after being dried)…

how inviting – smells fresh and feels rumpled AND crisp

Stacks of books, covering every available surface in our living room…

a row of bookshelves that went to grace another home!

~

These “ugly” scenes from around my house have their own shimmer of beauty.  It took a closer look to find it.  But I liked looking for it.

Anyone else?  Where have you seen lovely in the unlovely?

Love in Small Expressions

Doesn’t this pod look positively crunchable?!

image from C r u s a d e r

While walking to church yesterday, these pods were scattered all over the sidewalk.  Mmm, I loved smooshing every. single. one. under the heel of my boot.  Thankfully, we had arrived  a tad early, so we had the minute and a half to spare for my dawdling.

After teaching Sunday school, on our way back to our car, Hubby stopped abruptly.  He indicated towards the ground.  Separated from the rest of the bunch, a lone pod was pristine in its deliciously spiky crispness.

He had paused, purposefully, to point out and let me have the joy of crunching that one pod under foot.  A small gesture, but thoroughly endearing.  Swoon…

Jumping In

Well, wasn’t that a lovely little holiday sabbatical?!  All the holiday posts–on everyone else’s blog–were so sweet and festive.  One of these years, I’ll stay on the bucking bronco of blogging holiday festivities.  In the meantime, I experienced mental anguish, wondering in what fashion I’d return to my dear blog.  Since I’ve had my share of blog-breaks, I’ve had my share of come-backs.  (If you click over to the Suspense Story of one of my returns to the Blogdom, don’t miss the Epilogue in the comments!  The comments are the best part of the whole thing…)  However, this time, a friend suggested to just ignore the static and jump in.

So, without acknowledging my prolonged absence, I’ll just start up blogging again!

And, go!

……….(blink, blink)…………

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, GO!

………………..

Go now!

…

NOW!

…What was I going to say again?  (You don’t know, ‘cuz I haven’t told you yet, right?)

Um, I’m back.  Maybe?  Possibly?  Potentially?  I instill so much hope in my readers reader (hi Mom!  Mom?  Do you still read this?).

Questionable Temperature

It’s mid-November.  The mornings here are feeling quite a bit like fall should feel.  Though, by late afternoon, it’s maybe a little too warm for November.

I couldn’t help but agree with my Google Widget that it’s what temperature this late in the year?!

In all seriousness, I don’t know what prompted this question mark.  If I’m disconnected from the internet or if there’s no readout, there’s typically just two dashes.  I thought it was kind of funny…

I know, quality posts around here lately!

Embracing the Feminist Ideal…

Well, I came home from getting some gas for the car and my darling wife was making something in the kitchen, cooking up a storm.  She was dividing up a bag of flour into ice cream tubs and putting supper together all at once, and when I came in she held up one of her bare feet in the air, pointing it in my direction…

In confusion, I said “Uh, what’s going on Sweetie?”

She proudly announced that she was “barefoot and in the kitchen”, and that was “one down and one to go!”

I laughed and laughed and laughed when she called herself “such a feminist” that I had to blog it.

Gender nondescript persons alive!  It’s the 21st century: Finally, women can be liberated to love being feminine and not be expected to have to learn a blue collar trade and financially provide for their family.  Maybe one day, my oppressed brothers and I will be able to throw off the shackles of this Estrotalitarianist culture, burn our jock straps, buy things on a basis other than “cuteness”, talk without “expressing ourselves” and not have to worry about being sued for trying to raise our kids with a shred of discipline…

The tides are turning, and maybe one day, we’ll see change…

Frightfully,

Anonymous.

That’s so (not) LA!

Well, you see, Nestle…  That’s not exactly how it works down here.  And I don’t anticipate your billboard turning the tide on this one.

Fear

Last night, as I sleepily ventured from my bed for–well, what do you get out of bed for in the middle of the night?–eyes half-open, I stepped into the hallway.  My eyes flew open as I tried to process the information before me.  A bright strobe light flashed white onto the ceiling and walls.  No siren beeping or ringing though…

I called for my sleeping husband as my feet were firmly planted in place.  He rushed to my side, still mostly asleep, as I clutched my hand to my chest.  I sniffed at the air, willing myself to detect the oderless carbon monoxide that was setting off our hall alarm and that was slowly killing us in our sleep.

What if I hadn’t woken up?  Would I have felt the deadly affects of CO?  …What are the deadly affects of CO?

In the time I pondered these, Hubby sought out the source of the bright, silent strobe alarm.  As he brought a box down from the top of our open shelves, he calmly identified the cause of alarm.

It was a novelty, light-up hair clip that I had received at a bar mitzvah last year.  I had clipped it to the edge of the box because 1) I’m a packrat, 2) it was a souvenir of my first bar mitzvah, and 3) you never know when you’ll need a swatch of hair that lights up.  Like, all the time!

So in the end, we were no closer to death than what each breath brings us daily.