Honey From The Rock

Cranky dripping Monday, Sitting in the back and wishing I could sleep. Getting in their faces because they can't either. It's too much, all this dripping.  Better is a rooftop than a castle with a cranky woman;  Better anywhere than a classroom of discontents. Nothing is blessing; it's all pushing.  Labor and pain and pushing. The night endures forever and  Where the heck is the morning? Attitude. She got an attitude already, Says fifth period. And I smile, To prove them wrong And to warn them with a sassy smirk of attitude.  If I can hold out two, even three, hours; This too shall pass. But tomorrow is Tuesday  And I hate Tuesdays.

I dreamed last night that I was teaching, and it reminded me of my car dreams. In my car dreams, I always am driving really fast; really, really fast and it's beautiful until I see a red light. I know I need to stop, but I can't. The brakes don't work and my feet are reluctant to stop the full throttle of the humming engine. I end up using both feet to push in the brake pedal, as if my feet are the physical brake pads grinding the tires to a halt. I sometimes stop but often don't and fly through the intersection barely missing another careening car. My teaching dream last night felt like this. There was no control. My students were in their seats, except for one boy so I yelled at him, freaked out and knocked over a desk. I grabbed it with clumsy hands when I realized that I had been the one who knocked it over. The kids laughed and another student stood up and another and another, and the class disintegrated. I'm not sure what it reveals but I feel that it is sig

Today was a day of Bob Dylan and coffee. I sat on my bed a lot and did a variety of things, none of which were rushed. I spent a long time before noon reading and praying with the blinds open and a cup of coffee. After lunch, I worked, made brussel sprouts, and drank another cup of coffee. The difference between a snow day and a Saturday is that a day like this is a bonus. You don't have to get everything done, whatever you do is just extra. And the feeling of getting ahead is, well, heady. And the extra rest feels like a blessing from heaven (which it is). And between the coffee and Bob Dylan you have a little time to process life, catch up on the flying whirlwind of it all. For me, I had to process The Fight. It was, by no means, a good fight or a dramatic fight or an intense fight. But it was the first in my classroom, and it shook me up. It lasted probably only 30 seconds or a minute and it was more of a butt whipping than a fight really. B had the upper hand, meaning the poo

I forgot the Superbowl was tonight until the pastor this morning in church made a joke about it. oops. well I probably wasn't going to make plans anyway. Most of my friends go to church instead of Super Bowl parties and then just rush home to watch the game while shoving their faces full of nachos. And I'm not going to church tonight. Instead my windows are open, in JANUARY!, and I'm icing my foot. I always feel two things about physical injuries: 1) they are dumb and 2) I am dumb for letting them happen. The whole freakin thing is dumb. This injury is exceptionally dumb, no rhyme or reason to it; I jumped off the bed, landed funny, and bruised the top of my foot. The top; not the side or the ankle or the normal foot places you injure. I bruised the TOP. It might be fractured, but I kind of don't think so and I always go through a period of denial with my physical injuries (If I just pray over it and don't tell anyone, it'll go away. That spider bite is probab

Here's the thing. Snow days in middle Georgia can't top the snow days of Millersburg, Michigan as a child. Harsh reality. But the last three days have been really nice, not gonna lie, Internet, I've loved it. Snow days in northern Michigan were the closest thing to heaven in the winter. First thing, my dad would be rarin' to go (what is rarin'? anyone else have a grandpa who uses words you've never seen in a book?), and he'd hustle us out of bed and into layers of snow gear. (Whenever I smell wet wool, I think of those mornings.) Living in the middle of nowhere meant my family had the pick of whatever solitary hike we felt like. When we lived on Lake Nettie, we'd hike up into the steep hills over looking the east side of the lake. We'd drag along a sled and the steep hill leading down to the lake was perfect for sledding. It would usually be snowing and the huge flakes would drift down around us and no matter how much noise the three children a

soup is simmering and today was a snow day in Macon, Ga, meaning there wasn't any snow or ice here in the sunny south, it was just cold. But a lovely day with no complaints and counting blessings. Thank You LORD God of strength, for southern snow days of sunshine and cool air, for time in my quiet classroom to prepare for my loud crazy children coming tomorrow, for spicy chicken chili and green green avocados, for evenings of freedom because I've worked all day. Also, thinking of dying my hair red, just a nice soft tint. hmmm?