Honey From The Rock

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